The Advocate and news., 1898-11-16
Constant In Misfortune.

In Bettina's cottage, where she sat and
spun, while her childish old grandpar-
ents nodded in their chairs beside the
fireplace, all was as clean as 1t could
have been in a palace, but she had hard
work to fill those two old mouths and
her own also There was no one else
to do 1t.
The lady at the great house bought her
fax and paid her well for it. But, after
all, Bettina had but two hands, and two
little brown hands cannot do all the
worlds work. / used to say to myself
that the time should come when Bettina
should not work at all. Bettlna and l
had been betrothed two years. We were
betrothed still and no nearer marriage,
though l had striven with all my
strength.
wait patiently" Bettina said to me
sometimes. What does it matter? We
love each other; we trust each other; let
us be content"
But could not be content. Others
who were as poor as we married and left
their native land to seek better fortunes
elsewhere. Bettina would gladly have
shared my fate, whatever it might have
UCCA, Uub JlO Olu 81 dnu BOuAh
her to her cottage and her birthplace
AS for me, felt that II | would ever
win Bettina l must leave Savoy and go
to America, where so many Of our coun-
try people had already gone, and whence
they wrote letters that made our hearts
beat with hope for the future. told
Bettina so, and though she wept, she
said:
CO. go, Bernard, and I will pray for
you. It Is all girl can do"
l had no fear that Bettina would for
get me- l knew that the rich young
farmer who so often rode many miles to
see her longed for her love, and wooed
her with all the art he had, but Bet
tina loved me, and love is adamantine.
We crossed the sea In safety. stood
at last in a strange land and among
strange people, but l found them not
unkind 1 found work at once. spent
little Week by week the little heap in
my moleskin pouch grew greater. was
gloriously happy. wrote joyful letters
to Bettina. She answered me as hope
fully.
A year passed-twelve long months.
One more year and she would come to
me. l should press my lips to hers
all would be forgotten but our meeting,
and while lived the old people should
share our happiness.
With such thoughts as these In my
mind l entered the great factory where
work, one day. l said to myself, as l
threw off my Jacket
"At noon-time will write to Bettina. "
remember thinking this. remember
crossing the long room. / remember a
sudden flash and crash, and the oaths Of
men, and a girls mad scream. After
that nothing more, until a sense Of pain
awakened me and found myself lying
in the dark, with my own hand, cold
and clammy, lying in a great, warm,
soft hand that held it very tenderly.
Where am II" l said, and my voice
sounded low and hOarse in my own ears.
"Who is this?"
'It is the DOCTOR" said a voice. "Be
calm, my friend"
"ls it night?" I asked.
'It is night" said the voice.
why do you not light lamp"
He made no answer.
What has happened?"
ut was an explosion" he said after a
pause. "You were hurt. There were
many killed outright"
Doctor" said, "is it night?"
"It is night" he said, solemnly.
But only for me-" said. ''I know it.
l am smitten blind"
'Try to be calm, my friend" he whis-
pered. 1T is hard, but try to bear it."
All was gone-all my hope Of life, and
even all that had won in the past year
Some wretch had stolen the little mole
skin pouch from my bosom. was a beg
gar and blind. 1 prayed to die, but
lived, and at last grew strong again.
One day, as sat by the hospital win
dow, formed resolution. I said to
myself: can at least be brave enough
to spare Bettina something. | know that