St. Landry clarion. (Opelousas, La.) 1890-1921, 1897-07-31
ment, and then, bursting into tears, she

"You see, sir, she is not widow, after
thinking herself one for four years!
He, Mr.. Raynor, sir, for she's never hid
her name lis bad man, man who
nearly killed her with his drinking and
gambling and bad company. He spent
all the money her father left her, ho
crippled her boy with blow of his
drunken fists, and then he left her poor
and sick, and the boy all crushed. She
worked day and night forthe child, lit
tie Harold, and he grew to nine years
old, but always crooked and puny. Then
Mr.. Raynor found lis out, and he would
Haye taken the child, he would, the
fend, because she loved it. So we stole
Harold away in the night and sent him
to Germany with friend I'm telling
my story all wrong, sir. We heard Mr..
Raynor was dead-heard it from his
own brother, too, who believed it, AND
Miss Edna--Mrs. Raynor, l mean :
thought herself free, when she let l4r.
well, doctor, he wds true man; gentle,
kind and loving, and SO good to Harold.
She thought she was widow, and her
heart was sore, so sore you can never
guess, for she was one to take trouble
hard-and what harm, if they loved
each other? They would have been mar
ried if Mr.. Raynor had not come back,
pleased as Punch to find he could make
little more misery for his wife"
'But he is not living now?"
"Yes, he is, sir; the more's the pity!
Mr.. Duchesne is in Germany with Har-
old, and my poor dear is working her
precious life away to pay for the baths
for the boy, and to keep Mr.. Raynor
away. She pays him SO much a month
to leave her in peace"
'It is sad story" I said. +And was
too hasty in thinking 1 might help Mrs.
Raynor if knew it. We have no medi-
cines, Susan, for such misery as this"
But yet [ was glad to have heard the
story. l sent books to the cottage, and
/ went over frequently, trying to win
the heavyhearted woman away from
her own troubled thoughts, and amazed
at her rare patience and courage. I
had done but little in my efforts to re-
store her health, when Susan came
hastily to summon me one heavy Au-
gust day.
Come, please" she urged. Hes
there, hurt!"
"Who?" / asked. ].
"Mr. Raynor! He came cursing and
swearing because his money was not
sent last month, and this morning he
went over to Crawford and got drunk.
He was coming home again, when he
stumbled somehow and fell under hay
cart. He's badly hurt. 1 think the
wheels went over his breast. I suppose,
bad as he is, we'll have to nurse him."
AID bad as he was, tyrant, tormentor
and traitor, the new patient thus
throwa upon my hands was nursed as
tenderlg as if he had been both loving
and beloved. Out of her heavy despond-
ency, throwing self aside, Mrs. Raynor
developed her charitable, forgiying
nature in the weeks of illness that fol-
lowed her husbands injuries, fatal from
the first. believe she would have kept
him in life If by any self-sacrifce it had
been possible, but she could only make
smoother the passage to the grave.
I had thought her own tenure of life
but frail but In her devotion she grew
stronger She gained sleep by actual
physical exhaustion, and calmness by
the consciousness of duty performed.
Susan, by my advice, provided food that
was nourishing in small quantities, and
as the injured man passed toward the
portals of eternity, we kept his wife
from throwing her own life away by
our united efforts.
I would like, for humanity's sake, to
write that the reprobate reformed, or
even showed common gratitude for the
care layished upon him, but he died as
he had lived, sinking into stupor for
days before the end came, and never.
Susan assured me, bestowing one word
of thanks upon his gentle, tender nurse.
Tt was small funeral cortege that
left Fern Cottage to take the remains
of John Raynor to his New York home,
1 insisted upon escorting the widow,
and left her with an aunt, who was sym
rathizing and kind but evidently spoke
from her heart when she said to me:
THANK the Lord, he is dead this
timel''
/ scarcely expected Fern Cottage tc
be occupied soon again, but Mrs. Ray
nor returned in a few weeks, working
again busily, for her boy, she told me,
content to bear some further separa-
tion, as he was gaining greatly by the
German treatment. But the desolate
yearning was gone from the large, dark
eyes, and health came back slowly in
the winter months, when MY advice
was followed, and Susan guarded my
patient against overwork. The piano
ceased to wall and sob, and the slender
fingers found tasks in weaving g1adder
strains.
A year passed, and one evening, just
before the Christmas time, opened
the cottage door. Upon my startled
ears fell the sounds of song. Never had
/ heard Mrs. Raynor's rich, melodious
voice in song before, and paused, as
tonished, as Susan whispered:
Her boy is coming home for Christ
mas. Mr.. Duehesne is bringing him,
and we expect them any day. And
Harold is perfectly cured"
t did not go in. Such ioyas that I felt
should have no witness.
They came, these eagerly expected
travellers, just before the Christmas
bells rang out their joyful peals. The
slender, handsome boy had his mothers
face, and was evidently cured and on
the way to noble manhood.