The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1897-08-27

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worked day and night for the child, lit
tie Harold. and he grew to nine years
old. but always crooked and puny. Then
Mr.. Raynor found MS out, and he would
have taken the child. he would. the
fiend, because she loved it. SO we stole
Harold away in the night and sent him
TO Germany with a 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, mean
thought herself free, when she let Mr..
Duchesne come to see her. and-ah.
well. doctor. he was a 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.. Baynor had not come back,
pleased as Punch TO find he could make
a 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 month
IN leave her in upace"
1T is a sad story" said. And was
too hasty in thinking 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. 1 sent books to IN cottage, and
l went over frequently, trying to win
the heavy-hearted woman away from
her own troubled thoughts, and amazed
at her rare patience and courage. |
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?" l asked.
'Alr. 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. l think the
wheels went over his breast. suppose,
bad as he is, we'll have to nurse him. "
And bad as he was, tyrant, tormentor
and traitor, the new patient thus
thrown upon my hands was nursed as
tenderly as if he had been both loving
and beloved. Out of her heavy despond-
ency, throwing self aside, Mrs. Raynor
developed her charitable, forgiving
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-sacrifice it had
been possible. but she could only make
smoother the passage to the grave.
| 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
is the injured man passed toward the
portals of eternity, we kept his wife
] from throwing her own life away by
our united efforts.
would like, for humanity's sake, tc
| write that the reprobate reformed, OF
even showed common gratitude for the
care lavished upon him. but he died as
he had lived, sinking into stupor fol
days before the end came, and never
Susan assured me, bestowing one wore
of thanks upon his gentle, tender nurse
1t was a small funeral cortege that
left Fern Cottage to take the remains
Of John Raynor to his New York home
insisted upon escorting the widow
and left her with an aunt, who was sym
pathizing and kind. but evidently spoke
from her heart when she said to me:
THANK the Lord, he is dead thi!
time!"
l scarcely expected Fern Cottage t.
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
ton. as he was gaining greatly by tn
German treatment. But the desolat,
yearning was gone from the large, darl
eyes. and health came back slowly il
the winter months. when my advice
was followed, and Susan guarded my
patient against overwork. The piano
ceased to wall and sob, and the slende,
fingers found tasks in weaving gladde
strains.
A year passed, and one evening, jus
before the Christmas time. opened
the cottage door. Upon my startled
ears fell the sounds of song. Never hac
I heard Mrs. Raynor's rich, melodiou'
voice in song before, and l paused, as
tonished, as Susan whispered:
Her boy is coming home for Christ
mas. Mr.. Duchesne is bringing him
and we expect them any day. Anc
Harold is perfectly cured"
I did not go in. Such joy as that 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
And of his companion can only say
that | have no truer or more valued
friend than Frank Duchosre. who
comes every summer with his beautiful
wife and pretty children 70 spend the