The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1897-03-13

hope lay in appealing to him, III pleading |
with him for his own life, in conjuring |
him by the love which held them togeth- |
er, not to do this terrible wrong. What |
should he say? David was not easy OF
speech. His very thoughts were blunt,
Il-assorted and confused. Deep in his
soul he felt that his brother was about
to make a mistake-one Of the most awful
of which life contained a possibility. This
feeling was independent of religion or of
superstition; 1t was part Of David's very
existence. But how was he to speak of
this to Allan, who seemed to understand
everything SO much better than he?
And now it suddenly occurred to him
| that he really did not know his brother.
Evidently his designs OF self-destruction
had been in Allan's thoughts for many
weeks, and yet he, nearest to him of all
| beings on earth, had never been allowed
| to suspect It. This was why Allan had
| been so calm and had accepted his mis-
/ fortune so lightly Tortures of sorrow
/ there must have been, unspeakable
agonies Of ruined hope, all endured in
| secrecy and silence. 1t seemed to David
! that he himself. and not Allan, must have
| lacked the power of sight.
But what was to be done now?
The pencil was still moving slowly over
the paper. David rose from the bed, and
resuming his place behind the blind man
read on:
This concerns you and me and no one
else; is it not so, brother? The world is
far away from US; we are alone together
Now, what has existence for me?
| When first learned was to be always
blind and cripple there came with the
knowledge an impulse for death. But /
put 1t away and said: No, let me think
of this more fully. The calamity seems
| now to sweep over all of life. Perhaps
when I am more calm 1 shall find that
much remains untouched So / waited
and thought, and in the end l found one
} | thing the happiness of being with you.
] That is real and lasting, and for time
asked myself If 1t were not enough But
I remembered that my existence, wretch
ed and useless as 1t was, meant more OF
labor and hardship for you and
/ | thought, too, of what sorrow you must
feel for me, and the pleasure of being
/ | with you turned to bitterness. There
! | was nthing left.
: "But you--you love me and you have
a right to my life. 1t is for your sake tina
1 have spent these long weeks in silent
= | solitary debate, after every other dOub
was cleared away. At one time had al
y | most decided to beg my life of you, as
u might any other favor, but dared not
j., Yet 1 am begging 1t now-after l hav
u taken 1t.
Dear brother, 1 know that you ar
q | unselhsh. l believe that for my SAX
you would give up the greatest happines
o which life affords-as l would for you
1 | Can you not, then, allow me the ltttl
t that 1 take when 1 deprive myself an,
: you of my existence2 If, now, the con
e ditions were reversed-if 1 were the on
e to be. strong and WELL while you wer
l. crippled and blind-I try to think of it Il
l. that way, in order that l may under
1 stand it better and judge more fairly
should, of course, feel an intense sor
row"
, What was me matter? The pencil wa
= moving slower and slower. At last
:; stopped. David looked up at his brother
u face and saw 1t working with stron
II emotion. Then after moment the pen
ell went on:
= "-,..stL you should suffer so, and
re would be an unspeakable happiness t
ID help, to work for you-you would be dear
l. er to me than, a thousand times, If
he "Oh, what am I saying! exclaime
is the blind man aloud. The pencil droppe
from his fingers and he threw htmse
,e back in his chair. Il could not let MI
4 60" he cried; ut would be cruel in hh
IN to leave me. But What will he-ol
,e Davy!"
~ ~ He leaned upon the table with his fac
resting in his open hands, while DaVi
= stood watching almost breathless in tn
~ struggle to keep silent. At last Ala
st caught up the sheets of paper on whic
Z. he had been writing and tore them
II fragments.
st TT is over" said David. He restore
the bottle to It's place and crept past h
t. brother out of the room. Presently A
s. Ian heard the street dorr noisily open an
Sc shut and David's tread sounded upon tt
ar stairs.
is That night as the brothers were abol
or to retire, Allan said
Nv David, there is something that wal
to promise you. have already promise
Of myself, but want to assure you Of
N also"
10 yes" said David; what is it?''
~ 81 think l had better not tell you VIII
~ it is. You would be distressed-yC
~ ! would be distressed, perhaps. But
a. promise you"
AT VERY WE'LL" said David; 'let it rema
III a secret, then. But 1 accept the promise
Vi Spare Moments.