Union County courier. [volume] (Elk Point, Union County, D.T. [S.D.]) 187?-1913, 1897-05-06

poor Miles wan, Sn0fpeneQ features as ne
lies in deep sleep Of exhaustion. after
the terrible attack Of hcmorrhage which
the fierce excitement of the night before
had brought on him.
"Im done for this time, Clarke" he
says, with feeble smile, addressing the
doctor; you'll never pull me through
again, old fellow"
II can't say anything decisive yet for
a few days, old fellow" the doctor an
swers gently. "You might pull through
this time, Miles, but you've gone down
hill since last summer, old man, there's
no denying"
The doctor goes out then, and Muriel
comes in noiselessly, spirit-like, with her
slender, dark-robed figure, her white face
and great wistful eyes, and sits down by
the bedside, and lays her soft, warm
cheek to her brothers cold, clammy
brow.
A sob from those pale lips answers her.
Heaven be merciful to me, a sinner!'
poor Miles O'Hara says, with heartfelt
fervor. "Oh, Murrie! wish Eric was
here! Eric is good man. heard him
pray once for dying soldier. Aye! pray
better than ever heard parson pray!
WlCu NC WIN uClC INV. x1C . COuiu& Ill
week-coming back-isn't he? That
was the bargain, wasn't it? My head
IL so confused, send for him, he said"
and then the weakened brain loses hold
of the tangled thread of thought alto
gether.
And Muriel, kneeling down by the bed
side to pray for the soul of her dying
brother, thinks wildly, in an agony of
lonely longing. how her cruel words, her
false words, have banished Miles faith
full friend, insulted him, driven him away
forever, and left both Miles and her alone
and friendless in this, their extremity.
Two weary days so by, and then there
comes a letter of a few courteous lines,
written from Eric to Miles, referring to
Muriel merely as his late hostess, and tell
ing of his arrival in London, where he
purposes to stay for few days, he says.
She reads the letter to Miles, who does
not seem to notice anything odd in it's
style or tenor. and she creeps away out of
the room, trembling with nervous uncer-
tainty and suspense. Late that same
evening, however, as Muriel sits by his
pillow as usual, Miles says, sorrowfully:
'We miss Eric, don't we, Muriely'
"Yes," Muriel answers, family; "you
miss him, l suppose, Miles, dear. very
much"
Another and another day passes away
Eve days now. and the end Of the week is
here. Miles is going-going, visibly with
each sun rising and setting. At last, on
the eighth day after Eric has gone. as the
afternoon is closing in with still. gray.
hazy atmosphere sunless and lifeless,
Miles speaks suddenly, addressing his sis
ter:
"IIave you written to Eric, Muriel?"
Written to Eric?" she falters. mo,
not yet"
Miles stirs restlessly and signs.
Il can't think how it is you don't care
for him. Muriel." he says, YEARLY. HE
is man any woman might be proud Of"
Muriel answers never a word. II don't
want to do any violence to your feelings,
Muriel," he says gently and despondingly:
"bt, at all events, must see Eric before
l die. must try and write to him, if you
won't"
He does not notice Muriel slipping out
of the room a few minutes after, but he
does notice her on her return some ten
minutes later, for a crimson spot burns
holly on each pale cheek and her eyes gilt
ter like jewels.
''Miles, darlingv' she whispers in an
odd. uneven voice, coming at the back
of the sofa and STOPPING over to curl his
soft hair around her finger, make your
mind easy; Eric will be here tomorrow
or next day, perhaps"
CHAPTER XIII.
Major Llewellyn was on the point of
leaving London when Muriers letter
reaches him. So eager is he to return to
Ireland that he finds the forty miles an
hour slow, and considers there are an
unusual number of minutes to each pass
ing hour, and finds it impossible to sleep
comfortably in the corner of the railway
carriage as usual, and PAGES the deck of
the steamer restlessly until 1t comes to
kingstown pier. In the afternoon he is
in Baltimore. He has telegraphed from
Euston the message. Il am coming by
night EXPRESS" but has hardly expected
to find the Currughdene groom, Kirwin,
and poor Miles dog cart and bay mare
waiting for him. Once more. for about
the tenth time, he reads that hastily pen
ned letter:
Dear Major Llewellyn: Will you
come Ddck 10 US! l Aul IN great trouble.
for Miles is ill-dangerously i'll through
the breaking of blood vessel eight days
since. l fear he is dying. unless heaven
be merciful to spare him little longer to
me, and he wants to see you again. He
il longing for you, and feel sure that if
possible you will not fail me: even if l
displeased you, you will forgive me now,
and come to me, in my sorrow for Miles
sake, If not for mine. Yours very truly,
"MURIEL O'HARA."
And as he reads over anew the piteous
little letter, the dove of promise seems to
nestle warmly in his heart, and the SER
pent of doubt glides away. An hour later,
in the chill, bitterly cold winter evening,
the firwoods black in the fading daylight,
and the lake stretch of stormy, slate
eoiored water. he reaches the doors of
Curraghdene and she is standing before
him, looking up in his face with wordless
anguish of timid pleading and nervous
anxiety.
"Major Llewellyn," she whispers faint
". wondering in her girlish dread If he
is too much offended or surprised Mt her
audaciOus, imperative summons to speak