Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1897-05-06

iooheu dH INVITATION TO the vacant chair
| opposite, and he seated himself in it with
out more ado.
is she asleep?' he asked presently.
Yes, said in a whisper, for it was
not often the child had rest.
II wanted to talk to you," he said
| in subdued voice. 'Can you lay her
on the bed for while?"
Wondering a little at the unwonted
gravity Of his face and voice, l took the
child over to the bed and gently laid her
| there and covered her with shawls.
II hardly know how to tell you," he
said at last, as l sat awaiting the COM
munication: ''but have had a serious loss
lately-a money loss. l cannot say any
| one is to blame. 1t was an Investment"
"Yes? | said interrogatively.
An unfortunate investment" he went
on, looking gloomily at the fire. I'll
| never understood much about money mat
tiers. | trusted to my lawyer, a sharp,
clever fellow, so thought. Well, he was
sharp enough to feather his own nest. He
has decamped, and my affairs are in an
awful state, SO Ferrers says
'Ferrers!' I echoed in surprise. ''Do
you mean Sir Ralph?"
''Of course do He has been in Lon
don looking into things for me, but it's
not much USE IL shall have to go my
self. IT," frightening suddenly, 81 could
find publisher for my book, that would
be a help up the hill, but you see the
| subject"
rs not exactly popular, perhaps"
suggested.
He looked at me sharply.
'1t is great work. he said coidly.
NJ
ness; ''but it is the great works, is it not,
that are so difficult to publish? The little,
insignificant ones go off easily enough
Eyes, that is so,' he agreed. 'Well,
Joan, what [ specially wanted to say is
this. The doctor tells me that the child
ought to spend this winter out of Eng
land-Nice, Mentone, some of those
places. If it had not been for this-ths
most unfortunate affair, [ should have
sent you both away at once. AS it is,
really have not the means. The boys are
great expense. In fact as it is, Alfred
will have to leave college, and it is ques-
ton of three or four hundred pounds to
send you and the child and nurse away
for six or eight months. At present. and
indeed for the next quarter l can't lay
my hands upon fifty"
I felt a sudden tightening at my throat
I looked up, scared and anxious.
''Is she-is she in danger?' l asked,
breathlessly.
The question of the money passed me
by; only thought of Darby.
''Danger?" he said, vaguely. ''Well
don't know if there is danger. She is a
fragile little thing. But we must hope
for the best. That is ALL
'All?" l said and rose and stood be-
fore him, trembling in every limb. "No,
it is not all. Do you know what she is to
me? More than my life-my mothers
last charge. There is nothing-nothing
would not do for her. If it is to save her
life-the money must be found
''Then," he said, rising, too, and facing
me with that new, troubled look in his
eyes, Il must trust to you to find i'll
cannot"
There came little cry from the bed
low, faint, exceeding weak. l was by my
child's side in a moment; her head was
resting on my heart.
'Ie can't sleep, Jo,'' she said, piteously,
sand mes so tired. Tell me story"
And so, with eyes that slow tears
scorched with pain, and voice that trem-
bed in unsteady modulations, put my
grief and terror on one side, and told her
one of those fairy legends that she loved.
! 1t was Andersen's story of ''The Little
Mermaid"
"Why, Jo," she said, wonderingly, as
she touched my face when the story drew
to it's end, "you are crying! Is you so very
sorry for her?''
eyes, darling l said, struggling
against my weakness. care not you?
Think of all the cruel pain she bore, and
how she loved the Prince, and then it was
all for nothing. He married the Prin-
cess"
"But he did not know" said Darby,
thoughtfully. "Why did she not tell him
how she loved him, and all about the
fss' tail?"
| Because" said, "no woman must tell
a man she loves him until he asks her.
There came faint sigh at those words
| from some one standing behind me, and
suddenly I looked up and saw Sir Ralph
Ferrers He had entered so noiselessly
we had not heard him. l sprang to my
feet. l felt so glad to see that kind, ia
miliar face once more.
"When did you come back?" cried, de-
lightedly. "Have you been standing there
long? / never heard you."
mot very long," he answered, holding
] my hands in his warm, strong clasp. "Just
long enough to hear the little mermaid's
tragic end. Now, little one, what does
this mean? Didn't you promise me you
were going to get better?"
! Darby nestled closely to him, her face
radiant.
81 is better" she said, emphatically.
'Would my little girl like to go where
there is no cold and damp, only blue sky,
and beautiful flowers, and warm, bright
sunshine all the day." he asked, gently.
ooh, yes" cried Darby, eagerly. docs
you mean heaven?"
''No, nov' he calculated, sharply. mo,
no, child! If it is heaven, it is an earthly
one But you would get well and strong
theresa the doctors say; and we must
see about taking you"
"Why did you tell herr" broke in, bit
terly. ''You know it is impossible!'
II know nothing of the sort" he said,
cheerfully. I'VE shall summon the fairy
godmother-eh, Darby and she will bring
chariots and horses, and all the rest of it,
and whirl you off before you've time to
think of it,
''And Jo?' questioned the child eagerly.
| ssJyill To noma-and Won ?"