The Press., 1898-12-01

| of the firm had re-i |. Ie IoUKed toward the closed desk again, so 1 knew what must be i'll the dispatch. The pookkeep- er was watching over his shoulder, and by and by he plucked up courage to ask a Imid question of his employer The antwer made him look very grave. Whatever the news may have been he communicated it to the light haired ycuth and the square shouldered fellow I in. the latter edge of the luncheon hour before the chief had returned. They took it very hard, and the younger of 1 them stood by the window afterward when he should have been at work. and he looked the picture of grief. Yet the girl was on hand at the usual horr the next morning and was the re- eipient of cordial greetings, though she had to ask the bookkeeper for his. In the afternoon, when she stood by the open window for a few minutes, l thought she looked quite ill, and, worse than that, she seemed apprehensive. The blight of melancholy was on her. fancied her as one of those unfeEtunates who in youth are told that there will l be no maturity, that the seeds of death are planted and must grow.
 | Three days later she was absent again. Then I saw her on three success siye days, leaving out of account an in tervening Sunday. Again she failed to appear, but only for 8 day. and the re- mainder of the week she was in her ac- customed place.
 f Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday passed with no glimpse of her. In the later afternoon of that last day a man who could be known for doctor half a mile away made long call upon the head of the firm. They conversed very seriously for a few minutes, and then drifted to general themes and laughed and puffed their cigars as if nothing were wrong. That fixed my estimate of the gray haired young man at a very low point in the scale.
 1 There was no sign of her during the week. On Monday saw unusual sights in the office across the way. First the old bookkeeper came in, and while he had the office to himself he sat in her chair, and saw him shed tears. Then the young man with the corn colored hair appeared, and upon my word l was afraid to see him stand by the open window, with such 8 look upon his face, lest he should cast himself down to the bottom of the gulf. T | A little later the three clerks, the gray haired man and an eideg1y person whom took to be the second member o$ahe firm just arrived from abroad for I had heard a rumor that one of them had been in Europe nearly 8 year assembled in conference on a plane of | Io1r7oIifu hif.h nr11 1ooro row could have justified. After awhile two clerks brought in some large paste board boxes, which contained flowers, for though they were opened in part of the office that my view did not well command got glimpse of white blos- soms and green leaves
 l I think those men were all sincere, but not one of them-not even the old bookkeeper-felta grief that matched mine. Nothing just like that has ever come into my life. Perhaps I should have found nothing sympathetic or at tractive in that woman if had met her face to face, but when that meeting on this side of the grave had become i'm. possible pictured her in speech and in heart and soul as all that her sweet face had promised.
 I ionged to share with those who had known her the privilege of expressing my sorrow at her early death-indeed resolved to do so, even at the risk o1 committing an impropriety. Therefore, when I saw the pasteboard boxes dis patched in the custody of the messenger boys, I hastened to intercept them OF the street. It was easy enough to read the address upon the boxes, but there was no name-only a street and number in Brooklyn.
 That was sufficient, however. l has tened to a florists and gave orders fol such tokens as seemed to inappropriate
 And so that was the end The sight of her at the window day after day; ( feeling of cheer from her bright pres ence near me, and, then the sorrow fol the loss of one whose very name l diC not know. I missed her heartily il those succeeding weeks.
 Even so late as September I had by no means forgotten her or the incident connected with that of strange ana fanciful sorrow. It wasi6n the fifth day l of that month when man of familial aspect, yet certainly not an acquaint ance, walked into my office. He came slowly up to me and laid two card upon my desk. One was my own, ant the other bore the inscription. "Johr M. Douglas, M. D."
 The name was not familiar, but tn, man himself had certainly seen. An to be sure! He was the doctor who hat come to the office across the way, whel the end was drawing near.
 "That's my card, and the other on' is yours, isn't it?'' said he.
 nodded.
 You sent it with some flowers t. S11 De Vaux street, Brooklyn. on Jun 2S, didn't you?''
 "Yes." I replied. "they were fo her. ''
 And 1 glanced across the way.