The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1897-08-06
LOVES SHELTtRING MAY. ;
BY MATTY C. NASH.
NHARY WINSLOW hurried little as
IvI she climbed into the ten-thirty

IvI she climbed into the ten-thirty
accommodation train from New Ro-
chelle to New York. The axcommo-
dation trains were always crowded; ;
and she wanted very much To get a seat
ON the side OF the car from which she
could catch a glimpse of her house,
where her babies were. She had al
most missed the train lingering over
good-by kisses and baby love-making.
She was doing very bold thing. For
the first time iii the four years of her
married life, she was undertaking some
thing without consulting her husband
about II. But il was for his sake-to
save him from terrible anxiety; and to
do that she would dare anything
The tears stood in her eyes at the
thought of his shoulders, already
stopped under their burden of care and
his face SO crossed with lines that told
as plainly as did the scantIly covered
crown from which the curly, boyish
crop of brown hair had slipped how
hard had been, and was, his tight up the
stream of fortune.
And his shabby coat and fray ed linen,
David rarely got any new clothes, and
when he did he went to a cheap tailor
who did not nit him very well. lie was
a little man. Mary used to think If he
had been few inches taller ne would
have cared more for dress. But she
was wrong about that. David was very
modest and not wonderfully clever;
hut he knew il would have to be a coat
as beautiful as Joseph's to make him
more respected at his Office OF more
loved at home. All beyond those two
places was nothing to him.
But Mary loVed him. She more than
loved him. She put him on a pedestal
and crow ned him with glory and hon
or. She broke the alabaster box of her
whole beings alteration at his feet;
and she would have died for him gladly.
Mary was Large, fair woman, " no,
richly and fashionably dressed, would
have looked like "A duchess. As il was
IN her simple, homemade gowns and
Iaodest bonnet, she only looked like
very beautiful mother, which is more
than some duchesses do.
y conventional looking young curate
and "a handsome, large-featured man of
5d- with a deep mourning band on ms
hat. sat ia the seat directly in front of
Mary. The elder man had his little
daughter. dressed i'll mourning, on his
knee, and he and the curate laughed
and chatted with the little girl To
amuse her.
There Is a newly made widower,"
thought Mary; "and he doesn't seem to
mind much l wonder if David would
(she had almost said ''wiIi''1 care So
little
Suddenly the older man turned 10 the
curate, and Mary saw his face drawn
IN an agony of grief.
Did you ever bury anyone you loved
desperately" he asked.
The curate answered with appropri-
ate courtesy: No, | have been very
fortunate i have always thought, how
ever, that the only wise way To face
such grief would be philosophicaIly.
knowing it was Gods will that il
should come to all
You have never buried anyone YOU
loved desperately. When YOU come To
10 that you will not be thinking oi phi
losophy," said the other.
And then they spoke of other things
Mary pulled down her vail To hide her
wet checks.
Poor David, lie will mind: he will
not forget right away" she thought
half-hOur later, Mary stood in a
clean, bare little room high up on the
top floor of a quiet boarding house on
a side street \ young doctor with
wide-awake, intelligent face was talk
ing to her.
Yes, Mrs. Robinson" he said. grave
Iy.. the operation is imperative; il is
the only way to save your life If il
SlInes,-hs nx-ilI
strong woman; if il fails, You'll be
spared the pain of a lingering death. for
you'll not survive the operation mere
than IA half hour at the must put the
'ase plainly To you. You must know
all the circumstances, all the risks. that
you may decide wisely"
Il have decided she answered,
steadily.
Very well, l will have the nurses
here in little while, aad the other doc
tors will meet me here at quarter be-
lore two L have spoken to them about
ii. ! was only waiting for final word
from you TO complete all the arrange
ments"
He bade Mary Good morning" and
left her alone.
especially about little things. Spiders.
worms aud snakes, even very small
ones, made her almost faint; and she
was afraid to travel alone, or To sleep in
a room by herself. But her pulse was
very steady now. 1t seemed - her to
say: David, David, David" as it beat
She walked over to the window and
looked down at the people coming and
going in the street. 1t seemed to her
that she had entirely lost her personal
ity- She had-really become this Mrs.
Robinson she had told the doctor and
the boarding house keeper she was.
She was of vital Importance To nobody
about her. To the doctor and nurses she
was a cast" and there were many
cases" like her in the city. The hos
pitals were full of people who were
going to die soon, were dying even now.
As she thought of il the black pail of
death seemed to settle over her and all
she saw. and smother her.
My husband-my husband" she
gasped; can 1 bear il without you?''
Presently she sat down at little
table, and wrote letter to him. She
put his full address with careful clear
ness on the envelope. Then she wrote
a note TO the doctor, inclosing her
nusba and's letter in it
She had nerert bought of dying alone
In the neetII-- thoughts she mad had OF
death, David had always been there to
hold her hand. But now she was liable.
even likely, to die alone. Poor Mary,
Alone" meant to her without David"
Mrs. Robinson" said DIR. Ellis, when
the assistant surgeons and nurses had
come, Il feel il due to myself to ask