The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1897-08-18
CHAPTER XII-Continueh.


Brian's instructions to wrap
herself warmly, she departed on her
errand Of mercy.
Through the peaceful quiet of tho
Sabbath morning she made her way
over the we'll kept road, until she
reached the rectory, an unpretent1ous
little house, sitting back in an equally
garden.
A narrow, beaten pathway led to tho
modest entrance, and on either side OF
it were tiny borders Of dead flowers,
around whose lifeless stems the brown
leaves clung cOnyulsivcly.
Margaret's ring was answered by O
tired looking maid servant, who led the
way into the poorly furnished little
parlor. While she questioned tho girl
as to her mistress condition Margaret's
eyes travelled wistfully about the room,
whose chcory LONELINESS not even the
notwithstanding influence of poverty,
could entirely dispel. Yet there was
something vaguely pathetic in the worn
chairs, the faded, almost threadbare,
carpet; the few inexpensive ornaments,
and the numerous makeshlfts; little
pretensions to comfort and luxury,
which dcft fingers had fashioned into
pretty deceptive devices, all presenting
the long and patient labor, thoughtful
love, and tender self-denial, SO often
wrought into the possessions OF the
poor.
Up stairs in the front room she found
the brave little woman who had SEEM
ed 50 we'll only few days before,
stretched on q bed of weakness, the
busy brain no longer worrying over the
wants of growing family, the tireless
feet resting at last. Near the bed sat
Mr.. Ivcns, the rector of the most I'M
popular church in s.. He was a. man
of many talents and attainments, but
unfortunately for himself he lacked the
self-confdenco necessary to meet and
overcome the difficulties OF life.
Margaret knew and understood ma
ture so similar to her fathers. She
discovered the wealth Of learning and
nobility of soul hidden under an over
mastering diffidence, and she admired
the qualities which others could not see
Now as she saw him, bowed by the
shadow of a coming great sorrow, n DID
ing the nerveless hand that had smooth
ed so many difficulties for him, yet
whose cheerful aid could never more be
his, she felt her heart filled with q COM
passion no words could express.
He was so engrossed with his griof
that he scarcely noticed her as she
quietly glided to his place beside the
bed, but Mrs. Ivens had heard the al
most no:scless footsteps and opened
her eyes YEARLY.
AN, it is you, Margaret" she sale
with momentary flush Of pleasure OF
her pale face.
Margaret nodded cheerily, and lait
her hand, with soothing tenderness
on tho hot, throbbing head. Does i
ache much?" she asked.
mo, Margaret, only little. Will
you tell Mary to get the children read,
for school? should be up to do it my
self, but I am very tired.
Il don't believe you ever admitted a
much before" was Margarcts rathe
unsteady answer, The children
won't 90 to school to-day. 1t is Sun
day"
Sunday, and lying here! James
why didn't you tell me? We had S
much to do to-day"
Her eyes sought her husbands, bu
he was looking rather wistfully at MAJ
garet.
| Margaret read the unspoken languaS
| of that glance, and she found it yer
difficult to answer cheerfully.
ave are going to let you be lazy Il
| day, Ellen, so that formidable amour
| of work must wait for another Sunda,
I intend to assert my authority, and,
begin, I'll sit here while Mr.. Ivens ea1
some breakfast. Mary told mo to Sen
him down"
The gentleman took this hint, and, {
obedient as child, left the room. t
knew that Ellen was safe and happy
Margarets hands, and already he fe
better for her cheerful, helpful pre-
ence.
Half way down tho stairs he was m
by preternaturally grave child OF
years, whose wistful eyes gazed sad
into his. Evidently she had been wal
ing for him, for without word 81
stole quietly to his side and allowed h
hand to glide with reassuring sympatl
into his.
In this silent way they reached t
dining room, where Mary had breakfa
on the table, and three tots aged, /
spectively, six, four, and Two seated
their high chairs, waiting for papa.
Little wonder that Margaret's mi
should be filled with painful though
of these babies, as she sat
| IL -. L,lctIn hot hnr ~
J became so misty when Ellen express
such gratitude for her attentions.
If you only knew how glad it max
me tc do even little for you, sho sa
with struggle to speak calmly. Y
} see, it is so seldom I can be useful, Il
l am particularly proud now. II l b
} been poor, believe l should have TAX
, up nursing as profession
Yes, but you need not do it nc
Margaret. You don't know what it
to be poor. 1t is hard for him and
children.
The voice was full Of pain.
a have known" Margaret answer
Il have known the pain and cruelty
it. The scales of life are so uneven.
have no more right to comfort and II
ury than you have, and yet 3,
did not come here to talk on such Dc
J, full subjects; want to see you bri
and cheerful. !"
1T is hard to be bright and cheer
Margaret. Lying here with nothing
do, so many thoughts come to me.
afraid have given up so often whe
should have helped and encoura
James, Now it & 30 near Christ;
"a 20 ,,aunin Ia Ia tshila I ava /,