The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1898-01-15

know What possessed me to sacrifice NY
self to smallpox. Perhaps merely only to
crafty my own vanity. Now, to-day, when
it is all over, l rush to write to you and to
make an idiot of myself. When l hava
posted this 1 shall get into a rage and wish
l hadn't. But write to me! Oh, do write:
write folly-anything; you can't think the
charity it woul be-"
Poor little woman" he said, musing-
ly. "She's got lots of pluck in her! I'll
write and tell her she'd better get mar
ried."
Life and death went in and out of the
hospital, and the workers came and
went. The house physician left it in his
turn, and 10 months after he was sta
toned at Alden, where, perhaps, he had
less work han he desired. One after
noon the English mail brought him
a letter from Ruth. The writing on the
envelope set him thinking-sadly, may
be-of the old busy life in London, and
of the possibilities in her character for
which, at this distance of time and
space, he imagined he must have loved
her. He laughed at himself presently,
and opened the letter:
You said once I was always fond of do
ing something sensational: then you ad-
vised me TO study Mrs. Beeton.' have
studied it; for / have often done what you
told me. But l don't think / shall live long
to dispense the good things l may learn
from that world-famed cookery book. You
know there is an old proverb: "Toujours
perdriX? Well, it is this with me. "Tou-
jours parson.' He has driven me to take
more of your advice seriously-and I am
going to be married. Sometimes l thing !
must be mad to contemplate domestic bliss
with religion! 1 would gladly give any,
~thing-three years of my life-to really
enjoy things now while 1 am young and
could be gay. It's awfully hard to be just
a nurse and to have to worry and wear my.
self to death, and get thin and old and
cross and savage, while l see other women
with everything they want and all the fun
of life. Dear me! what nonsense l am
writing! Tear it up, but write to me. Oh,
do write to me once morei l am SO miser-
able, weary and lonely, and tired, dread
fully tired, of mechanically doing my duty"
Poor little Ruth! Jolly little Ruth"
he murmured, as he settled once more
comfortably into his lounging chair.
He rolled up and lit another cigarette,
and pondered for a few moments over
his attraction to this m There
had been others Well, it is usually
with this kind of excuse that men re-
member their hirtations; and, OF
course, hold themselves blameless. Per
haps there may have been a vague re-
gret in the doctors mind. Alden is not
a place where old fiirtations or platonic
friendships can be buried without re-
greet. 1t is a place where the memory
of either grows tender, and recollection
glances back through them on England
and home, on green fields and young
LEAKAGE quivering in the spring sun.
light; while the seeing eye is turned
ever on mass upon mass of lava and
brown rock. As he looked out the dreaI
mountain that rises almost sheer from
the placid sea was glorified by the Grim
son fire of sunset, and, though its clear
outline was cut grandly against the
rich light, it had become hateful to him
With this thought on his mind he ended
his r~everie, and went on opening his
mail letters. There CHANGED to be some
Christmas cards among them, full OF
good wishes and sentiment. One OF
these had a pathetic little verse that
suited his humor, so presently he put
it in an envelope and sent it off to Ruth
with the outgoing mail. This was mo-
fair, for he knew that at the time she
received it she would be married, and
this, so far as he was concerned, closed
the correspondence.
Once more she wrote, a little more so
berly perhaps:
Than you so much for that card you
sent! After all, l am only Nurse Ruth ir
your thoughts, and you are in mine-well,
1t is hard to say what you are. have made
up my mind never to write again, because
il does me no good to be thinking of you.
This is the beginning of the new year, and
| am full of resolution to try to do better
in it than | have ever done in any other
year Not long ago l was more than hall
in | re with you. and l was awfully miser-
able on New Years day because 1 had just
found out what a mistake it was to be in
love with the moon and to cry in vain for
it. really believe l am growing Sentl-
mental. Cornish men and Cornish man.
ners are affecting me strangely, but can't
bear to think over old days at the hospital,
and | can't bear thinking of the future, be-
cause l hate thinking of being an old wom-
an with dropsy, or cancer, or some horrid
disease. l was married three weeks ago.
1t is deadly dull in the village. l can't be-
gin all at once to c~riticise and find pleasure
in the sins of the poor, as the squire's wife
does. At times | long to be back in the old
surgical ward, or for the excitement of a
big operation, where, with all the hurry
and rush, things had to be done, and done
well. AT times l long to be tired as | used
to be at the end of day duty, when there
had hardly been a moment in winch we
nurses could take our meals. AT times l
wonder how l could have left it. That was
lifeI And this-is a home!"
Black and White.
Are Diamonds Becoming:
cer-oin lecturer who poses as the |