The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1896-06-24
CHAPTER XIII.

The case is hopeless he said, ID
answer to the question she was trying
to frame. Il am so sorry for you:
Rather be sorry for them. she re-
joined, trying to shut out the sympa-
thetic face, which made it more difficult
for her to be calm. Who will tell him!
Do you suppose he can ever be recon-
ciled to her loss"
Il don't know" intcrposed Brian, for
want Of a better answer. I suppose
We mus. all be reconciled to whatever
comes 10 Us.
All. don't. 1t is cruel to talk Of
being reconciled. I'd never be recon-
ciled. Never"
With these abrupt words, she started
to move away, but her tears blinded her,
and she would have fallen had not
Brian, quick to detect her weakness,
caught her in his arms.
This will not do, Margaret, he said,
with some authority. Il think you had
better so home with me. You will make
yourself ILL.,"
What nonsense, Brian! Ill from
watching few hours with sick
friend: wouldn't be fit to live if that
were the case. This is not physical
weakness"
Aren't there others to do for Mrs.
Ivens?" he asked, with some warmth.
Why should it all fall on your shoul-
ders:"
All fall on my shoulders? Oh, Brian,
how YOU do exasperate me! OF course
thero are others. Plenty Of them.
Everybody loves her, but for some rea-
N she likes to have me with her. And
with her intend to stay"
Then stay you may" he answered,
meeting her defiant eye. i sha'n't
carry you away by bodily force, though
I don't think you should have your own
way in every case. I have one request
to make. Perhaps you will condescend
to respect it. Don't kill yourself.
Il am not one Of the killing kind" re-
Joined Margaret, going upstairs. Good
by for the present. You may call to-
morrow, if you will.
Brian did call tomorrow, and this
second visit only confirmed the opinion
expressed in his first. Mrs. Ivens was
dying-from no special disease, but from
q gradual giving away OF the vital
forces. A life Of care and Anxiety, vex-
ations and privations, and wearying
struggles to make both ends meet, had
told at last on the delicate constitution.
Many who fall by the wayside are not
less brave than those who reach the
martyrs stake, and, II the truest heroes
are those who bear life's burdens un-
complainingly, Mrs. 1vens might Justly
wear the crown of heroism.
Margaret was faithful to her trust.
Others came and went, but she remained
by the sick bed. Brian exhausted his
eatreaties in vain, and even Christmas
Eve could not tempt her to leave her
friend.
You tell me her hours are numbered.
Let me stay until the end. 1t cannot be
very long now.
And Brian said no more.
Mrs. Ivens' hours were, indeed, num-
bered. The fame of life burnt fainter
and fainter. and when the night Of
Christmas Eve passed into the dawn Of
Christmas Day, the angels OF life and
death crossed in their pathway, and the
tired soul found the land Of perpetual
rest-the joys Of an eternal morning.
The incidents of those closing moments
were indelibly photographed on Mar
garet's mind.
She had to be brave and strong for
the sake Of those so sadly bert aved.
Mary had sobbed and the rector had
bowed his head in anguished grief, but
she had shed no tear. She had brought
the solemn, awe-struck children to their
mothers side; she had seen the kiss OF
infinite tenderness pressed upon each
sad little face; her heart had echoed
E!sies cry of anguish when for the last
time that little head was pillowed on a
dying mothers breast; yet her eyes had
been hard and dry, though the painful
tightening at her throat had made her
promise to be friend to these mother
less little ones, so hard to speak. And
even now the tears would not come,
though she hal thought and thought
until her mind was weary.
The sunshine lay all about her, the
bright, glad sunshine OF Christmas; on
the floor, where the carpet looked so
faded and worn; on the very spot that
Ellen's fingers had mended SO often and
so patiently in their old busy days; on the
old chintZ sofa, where she was lying
now-so carelessly, so thoughtlessly-
while the heart whose tender, unSel1ish
love had made this house home, in all
that gives that word it's highest, hollest
meaning, was forever stilled in its last
sleep, and the tired, patient hands lay
folded in the calm lest to be broken
never again.
4 sound in the hall! She started UP
to listen. The long period OF watching
had made her nervous and sensitive,
and the house had been so still. Even
the baby voices were awed to silence.
The heavy footsteps Jared sharply on
her ears. They were not Mary's and
DOT the rectoro. They were Brian's.
He entered the little room where she
was trying to rest, and with his sympa-
thy reflected on his face, came to her
side
MARY has told me-" he said, quietly,
I am so sorry. suppose l may take
you home now. 1t is Christmas, you
know, and i"
Christmas" she echoed, in a far.
away voice. Are you sure, Brian?
Christmas always brings happiness, 1
thought. and there is no happiness here.
I am ready to 90 home, though. I be-
heve have been waiting for YOU. am
so tired, so very tired. I don't 1eel that
can ever be rested again.
Brian looked his concern. Such weak
ness was unusual in Margaret.
Il ain afraid you have done wrong
he said, with some reproach. You
should have taken my advice, Margaret;
but suppose it is too lat to scold now.
You need rest. That is evident.
Margaret scarcely heard him. She
rose rather unsteadily and started 10
leave the room, but with sudden remem-
brance she turned back with the words: