Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1898-04-28

often at the wistful gaze which fol-
lowed her every movement around the
room. But when few short weeks had
passed all knew the end was near. One
evening, just as the sun was sinking to
rest, and Marjorie and her uncle, with
a strange foreboding at their hearts,
watched by the sufferer, the sick wom-
an, motioning Marjorie nearer, whis-
pered: 1.-THE letter-in my pocket
thought it best-forgive-"
The girl supposed her wandering.
and, STOPPING, she kissed the lips already
cold, and when she raised her head the
eyes had closed, the spirit fed. Then,
when the funeral was over and the
house restored to it's quiet, she took
her place beside her uncle, it seemed
as though all the glory had died out
of her life, and left only gray shadow
of it's former brightness.
Two years passed, and Marjorie won
dered at the strange calm which seemed
almost paralyzing her life, when sud
denly her energy was reused to action
n lCfCl ndd OAOhth Ottah s44>@%
very midst. Men, women and children
fled before it, and there were few to
care for the thousands already stricken.
With sense of almost gratitude, Mar.
jorie took her place by the bedsides OF
the sick and dying. All expostulation
was in vain, and night and day she
worked as though unconscious of ia
tigue. One evening, in passing through
a temporary ward, she caught sight OF
a man whose face, bronzed and bearded
yet carried with it a forgotten memory
A moment she knelt by John Harding s
side. In his delirium he seemed to rec
ognize her.
There was no light, Marjorie, in the
window. 1t was all dark-no answer to
my letter. So l went away. TWAS best
so-best, best" and the fever burned
hotter and fiercer, and his voice sank
or rose in incoherent words.
"A hopeless case, Miss Marjorie" and
the old physicians voice, still giving heI
the name of her youth, reused her from
her reyerie. He worked like a Trojan
among the sufferers, poor fellow, until
he was stricken down himself; and now
he will never work again." and with a
shake of the head the old man passed
on.
John, John, live for my sake; if only
once may tell you it was my fault-all
all mine," and with burst of sobs, the
fair young head was pillowed by his
side.
When she had gone back for few
hours rest to the farm, the words of his
delirium returned to her. and with them
those of her aunt
She had said: Forgive" With a
strange prescience she flew up into the
unused room, opened the lavender
scented closet, and one by one examined
the pockets of the dresses she herself
had hung there and left untouched
At last in one her search was rewarded
Paper cracked under her touch, and
drawing forth an envelope yellow will
age, she saw, in the handwriting sh:
knew so well, her maiden name.
The evening found her still sitting
with wide-open eyes, yet seeing moth
ing, and the letter on her lap.
Forgive me. Marjorie. You know. dear
/ did not mean 1t. / will trust you, dar-
ling. and you. with your gentle ways. must
teach me patience. Write me just one
little word OF love in answer; or. IL you
can't do that, put a light in the east win
dow for me. l will see II. and shall know
you have forgiven me, little as deserve H.
Yours till death. JOHN HARDING.
Till death-till DEATH" the white
lips moaaed, and so they found her
only idly muttering those words. with
the fever burning and ravaging her ten.
der flesh. IL was a fierce struggle, ano
when it left her wan and wasted, she
thought of the dreary future ahead
with a wild wish at her heart that she
had not been spared. But one morning
sitting in her own room by her opel
desk, the old letter spread out before
her, a familiar tread sounded on the
gravel path. and. looking up, she fell
back fainting, for she thought she had
seen John Harding's ghost. But it was
no ghost, but living flesh and blood re.
ality which bent so tenderly over her
and waited till the blood came back to
the wasted cheek. and saw the glad
night of recognition leap into the open
ing eyes.
Then Marjorie knew that God was
good, and, with a great cry of thanks
giving that her wicked prayer for death
had gone UNPUBLISHED, she chung to his
breast, and, clasping her close 10 his
beating heart. John Harding felt the
past was wiped out, and that at last,
after long years, he held his wife.-N. y.
Ledger.