The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1897-02-13

mended something or other and went
away. But he did more. For this med
lcal magical person had daughter, one
OF those who spend their lives in good
WORKS. And she, moved deeply by the
sadness OF the thing, came to nurse the
giri, and instead of reading to the pa
tlents in the hospitals, sat all day long
with Ruth while her sister was at work,
and talked to her and prayed over her
continually with the sunshine of sym-
pathy and friendship. She also sent in
piano and played to the sick girl. In
the evening Naomi came home. and
| when the librarian could get away, he.
too, came and read or talked of grave
things, thoughts concerning men and
women and the conduct OF life and the
teaching which is read aloud in the
churches without ceasing, and remains
as much neglected as ever. So they
talked her poor wearied brain into rest.
But ever and anon the dying girls ewes
would wander troubled round the room.
and she would go back to her prison
cell, and she would call again for her
baby and dandle the pretty child before
his father-the father so handsome and
so good.
One evening, when she felt little
stronger than usual, she told her sister
about her marriage.
Harry wouldn't marry me openly and
take me to his own people, she said.
because he was dependent on his
father. But he wouldn't give me up,
and one day he told me that he had
everything ready and would marry me
secretly in a registrars office. But |
was to tell nobody-not even you, dear;
and promised. He took me in cab. / |
don't know where. One of his friends, |
Mr. Middlemist, who was clerk in his |
fathers office, came with US. We got |
out OF the cab at the office, and went |
within. So that his father should not |
find out, he signed false name. He
took his mothers name, and signed him
self Henry Hendricksen.'
And you remember the place, dear?"
NO, do not know where it was, be-
cause never thought of looking. After
wards he told me that 1t was a sham
registry, but | know now that it was
not because people who have sham
)ihces do not put up brass plates and
print the name of the Office in the pill
ars OF the door. Besides, we had to
wait while another couple were married.
am his wife, dear, as much as the law
IAN make me-"
When Naomi told this to the librarian.
he said that now they knew the particu-
ars nothing would be easier than TO
ind out where the marriage took place.
because a register is kept, and can be
And he took certain steps
Unknown to the two sisters.
After this they talked no more about
he past. AS the bodily frame grew
7eaker her mind became more restful. [
,uring the day she seemed to forget the I
asst. She listened, her hollow eyes {
boxing far away, while her nurse-the
hysician's daugeter-played to her; on
le wings OF the music she was borne
way to the land of holy thought. Whom I
ne talked it was of the future-now SO /
ear-when her child should be re- i
-ored 10 her. The past, as she truly
I'D her sister, had left upon her soul L
D touch of shame-not the least touch. +
hat it had killed her was nothing, be- b
tuse life had nothing left for her. Only v
the night she would awake and
reich out her hands, feeling for the n
alls of her cell, and moan and weep in il
linking of the child, born in the prison Il
Id dead in the prison. Then Naomi q
ould weep with her and soothe her. n
It'll the dying girl, in her turn. soothed ii
I'd consoled the girl who had to live. (,
One evening, towards the end of
Dril, when there was soft breath of v
rly spring, Ruth began TO talk of the
/ days, when the swifts flew about the b
wer of the cathedral, and the leaves ri
gan TO come out upon the trees; and
g spoke of the sweet service on the fl
nday morning, and of the quiet shop, 81
til its shelves OF books, round which fla
Q canons of the cathedral would slowly
Tx, reading the titles; and OF the al
an, who always came to shake hands b.
tn her father, and patted her cheek pt
the old life-so long ago, so long
0. She talked about this all the M
aning; it seemed as If she could think "a
nothing else When she laid her G.
nd upon the pillow she murmured, o.
aomi, dear, there is nothing worth re- m
but the old days-and you, r,
lr, and you-unless it is my baby. H
he is waiting for me. / can see his an
tty face; he holds out his pretty tn
ids. Then, with no more words, oh
eyes closed and she fell asleep. Ma
watched her; she was breathing hu