The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1897-06-26

lie next morning Margaret received
note from the rectory asking her to
come to Mrs. Ivens, who was very sick.
Waiting only fer hasty breakfast, and
obeying Brians instructions 10 wrap
herself warmly, she departed on her
errand of mercy.
Through the peaceful quiet of the
Sabbath morning she made her way
over the well kept road, until she
reached the rectory, an unpretentious
little house, sitting back in an equally
unpretentious garden.
A narrow, beaten pathway led TO the
modest entrance, and on either side OF
it were tiny borders of dead flowers,
around whose lifeless stems the brown
leaves chung convu!sively.
Margarets ring was answered by q
tired-looking maid servant, who led the
way into the poorly furnished little
parlor. While she questioned the girl
as to her mistress condition Margaret S
eyes travelled wistfully about the room,
whose CHEEKY LONELINESS not even the
notwithstanding influence of poverty,
could entirely dispel. Yet there was
something vaguely pathetic in the worn
chairs, the faded, almost threadbare,
carpet; the few inexpensive ornaments,
and the numerous makeshifts; little
pretensions to comfort and luxury
which deft fingers had fashioned into
pretty deceptive devices, all presenting
the long and patient labor, thoughtful
love, and tender self-denial, so often
wrought into the possessions OF the
poor.
Up stairs in the front room she found
the brave little woman who had SEEM
ed. 50 well only few days before,
ah hnA Of hn
busy brain no longer worrying over the
wants of growing family, the tireless
feet resting at last Near the bed sat
MIR. lvenS, the rector of the most I'M
popular church in S.. He was man
OF many talents and attainmeuts, but
unfortunately for himself he lacked the
self-confidence- necessary to meet and
overcome the difficulties of life.
Margaret knew and understood a ma
ture SO similar 10 her fathers. She
discovered the wealth of learning and
nobility of soul hidden under an over
mastering dif1idence, and she admired
the qualities which others could not see
Now as she saw him, bowed by the
shadow Of a coming great sorrow, hold
ing the nerveless hand that had smooth
ed SO many difficulties for him, yet
whose cheerful aid could never more be
his, she felt her heart filled with a CON-
passion no words could express.
He was so engrossed with his grief
that he scarcely noticed her as she
quietly glided to his place beside the
bed, but Mrs. Ivens had heard the al
most no-seless footsteps and opened
her eyes weariiy.
AN, it is you, Margaret" she said
with momentary flush OF pleasure on
her pale face.
Margaret nodded cheerily. and laid
her hand, with a soothing tenderness,
on the hot, throbbing head. Does it
ache much?" she asked.
No, Margaret, only a little. viii
you tell Mary TO get the children ready
for school? should be up to do it my
self, but am very tired.
Il don't believe you ever admitted as
much before, was MargaretS rather
unsteady answer, THE children
won't go TO school to-day. 1t is Sun
day."
Sunday, and l lying herel James,
why didn't you tell me? We had SO
much to do to-day"
/ Her eyes sought her husbands. but
he was looking rather wistfully at Mar
garet
! Margaret read the unspoken language |
of that glance. and she found it very |
difficult to answer cheerfully.
j I'VE are going to let you be lazy to-
day, Ellen, so that formidable amount |
OF work must wait for another Sunday. |
/ intend to assert my authority. and, 10
begin, I'll sit here while Mr.. Ivens eats
some breakfast. Mary told to send
him down.
The gentleman took this hint, and, as
obedient as child, left the room. He
knew that Ellen was safe and happy In
iMargaret's hands, and already he felt
better for her cheerful, helpful pres
ence.
Halfway down the stairs he was met
by preternaturally grave child of 3
years, whose wistfui eyes gazed sadly
into his. Evidently she had been watt
ing for him, for without word she
stole quietly to his side and allowed her
hand to glide with reassuring sympathy
into his.
In this silent way they reached the
dining room, where Mary had breakfast
on the table, and three tots aged, re-
spectively, six, four, and two seated in
their high-chairs, waiting for papa.
Little wonder that Margaret's mind
should be filled with painful thoughts
of these babies, as she sat by
their mothers bedside, or that her eyes
became so misty when Ellen expressed
such gratitude for her attentions.
If you only knew how glad it makes
me tc do even little for you, she said,
with struggle to speak calmly. You
see, it is so seldom / can be useful, that
I am particularly proud now. If | had
been poor, believe should have taken
up nursing as a profession.
Yes, but you need not do it now,
Margaret You don't know what it is
to be poor. 1t Is hard for him and the
children.
The voice was full of pain.
Il have known, Marg aret answered.
Il have known the pain and cruelty OF
It. The scales of life are SO uneven.
have no more right to comfort and lux
ury than you have, and yet But
did not come here to talk on such dole-
Tul subjects; / want to see you bright
and cheerful.
1T is hard to be bright and cheerful,
Margaret. Lying here with nothing to
10. SO many thoughts come to me. Tn
afraid have given up so often when l
should have helped and encouraged
James. Now it + so near Christmas
md SO much to 10. while am here )