The Robesonian. [volume] (Lumberton, N.C.) 1870-current, 1897-07-28

~ et'oo41tely Sult tilat you
would inherit his large fortune.
tie had willed it to you; but he
thought it would be still surcr, if
you were his wife. A nobler soul
never lived than Paul Lindsey"
Noble, indeed! She went down
at once into the valley of humili-
alton. SO he married her out of
PITY! And, instead of being the
holress, independent, and secure
from all possible want, she was
absolutely dependent, and had
been tor years, upon the bounty of
the man, whom she had so hast
lily wed. But her thoughts were
all confused, and running together
she could hardly hear the law
yer's last words, her head reeled,
and she felt so dizzy. In fact,
the first symptoms of that terrible
fever were upon her, that Paul
had almost died with. But she
thought, dreamily, how sorry
Mrs. Lindsey would be for her.
And she was sure, too, of Gerald's
sympathy; the heroes of all the
romances he had read to her, were
faithful unto death, and the more
the heroines had lost, the deeper
grew their love.
So, that night, when Mrs. Lind
sey came into her room, with a
cup of tea, and slice of toast,
for she had sent down word, that
she was too i'll to go down into
the dining-room, she told her all :;
how, instead of being all heiress,
she was a poor girl, was absolute
ly penniless, and had been for
years.
Mrs. Lindsey was perfectly
overwhelmed with astonishment
and dismay. She said but little
but her deeds spoke.
The next morning Ethel was
worse. There had been several ca.
ses of smallpox in the neighbor-
hood, and the doctor who was first
called III, a young village practi-
tloner, with ne 0verstock of brains,
or education, pronounced it case
of smallpox. He did not tell Eth.
ell SO, but told Mrs. Lindsey .and
lGerald. And the consequence
was, that within an lour of the
time he communicated the knowl
edge to them, they were on theil
way to the station. They, eacl
of them, left a letter for Ethel
which she read at once.
| Mrs. Lindsey said, she coule
not think of remaining longer, t.
| be a burden upon her, as she ha(
no means to support even herself
| but she. could always love her
she would always seem to her lik,
a beloved daughter; but duty
seemed to demand, that she shoult
depart at once, etc.
i Gerald's letter was more poeti
and flowery. He cursed his evi
star more bitterly than ever. H
: denounced his fate - he wa
wretched, despairing; but his bu
, siness called him back again t.
, the East at once; he must go. H
ended by avowing, that the sta
of his fate was setting in blacknes
and gloom. But he knew the GOO
angels would be with her-he kne,
l they would watch over the lot @
one SO innocent and good.
} They, neither of them, men
, toned her illness. That was to
awkward a subject for them t
converse upon gracefully, SO the
: ignored it.
: Poor Ethel! She had falle
] upon evil days, indeed. Her ol
Y nurse stayed with her, and wa
s faithful and true, and waited upo
/ her, devotedly. But, as the day
+ went on, and she lay, burning Il
e with fever, and raving with delll
n ium, she thought, in the interYa:
e of consciousness, that she som,
:. times felt, upon her burning for,
:, head, q softer hand than GOO
: aunt Chloe's, q lower, tendert
d voice-the tenderest, and mo!
b loving voice in the whole worlt
h soothing her, calling her D,
d names.
But, when consciousness T.
It turned, no one was in the roo
l. but aunt Chloe, and her daught.
t Fanny, the chambermaid. Aul
e Chloe was speaking, i'll a low ton
t "To think that Mrs. Lindse
d and her son, after pretendin'
y think so much of Miss Ethel ,
: they did, should run off and lea,
her, because they thought it W,
d smallpox; SO afraid of losin' the
s precious lives, just as if it wou-
:, be loss-precious little loss
a would be to anybody. New