The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-01-03
In Misfortune.


been in a palace, but she had hard work
TO I'LL those two mouths and her own also
There pas no one else TO do it,
The lady at the great house bought her
fax and paid well for it. But, after al,
Bettina had but two hands, and two it-
tie brown hands can not do all the
worlds work. 1 used to say TO myself
that the time should come when Bet
tina should not work at all. Bettina and
l had been betrothed two years. We were
betrothed still, and no nearer marriage.
though I 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 I could not be content. Others were
as poor as we married and left their ma
tive land together to seek better for
tunes elsewhere. Bettina would gladly
have shared my fate, whatever it might
have been, but the old grandparents
bound her to her cottage and her birth
place.
As for me, felt that if I would ever
win Bettina 1 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:
GO. Go, Bernard. and I will pray for
you. 1t is all a girl can do"
I had no fear that Bettina would forget
me. 1 knew that the rich young farmer
who so often rode many miles TO see her
longed for her love, and woed her with
all the art he had, but Bettina loved me.
ard love is adamantine
We crossed the sea in safety. / stood
at last in a strange land and among
strange people, but 1 found them not I'M
kind. 1 found work at once. l spent
little. Week by week the little heap in
my moleskin pouch grew greater. 1 was
gloriously happy. I wrote joyful letters
to Bettina. She answered me as hope
fully.
A years passed by-twelve long months
One more year and she would come 10
me. 1 should press my lips to hers-au
would be forgotten but our meeting. and
while I lived the old people should share
our happiness.
With such thoughts as these in my
mind 1 entered the great factory where
I worked one day. l said to myself, as
threw off my jacket:
cat noontime 1 will write to Bettina."
I remember thinking this. I remember
crossing the long room. I 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 l found myself lying in
the dark, with my own hand, cold and
clammy, lying in a great, warm, solft
hand that held it tenderly.
"Where am I?' l said, and my voice
sounded low and hoarse in my own ears
"Who is this?"
sit is the DOCTOR said voice. BE
calm, my friend"
"Is it night?" l asked.
at 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, SIS 1t night?'
"It is night" ne said, soemnly.
But only for me- said. 81 know t.
1 am smitten blind"
''Try to be calm, my friend" he whis-
pered "It is hard-but try to bear it,"
All was gone-all my hope of life, and
even all that I had won in the last year.
Some wretch had stolen the little mole
skin pouch from my bosom. l was d
beggar, and blind. 1 prayed to die. but
1 lived, and at last / grew strong again
One day, as 1 sat by the hospital win
dow. 1 formed a resolution. 1 said TO
myself: I can at least be brave enough
to spare Bettina something. / know taht
if she knew the truth she would grieVe
bitterly and remain true to me. / know
that if I were sent home, as the doctor
says I might be- she would be constant
fOrever-she would even marry me and
try 10 mo he no. hofp
ones. That shall never be. l will send
her word that / am dead, and then, when
she has grieval awhile, youth will tri-
umph; she will marry the young farmer
who loves her so truly, and IS good as
well as rich.
The good doctor shall write me a let.
ter, and so as he passed 1 called 10 him
and told him all.
ct will be best for her" I said "Jt
will set her free. She will grieve bitter
ly, know, but the other lover viii one
day blot out my memory. Tell her 1
died with her name on my lips-I do. As
I die heart and soul. here before you,
I have but one thought. II is Bettina"
She loves me even as 1 love her." I
said.
Il will write he said stay come to
my little office with me. We shall be
quiet, and let me think. A woman can
tell the story better than I. especially as
it is touching and not quite true. l have
a nurse here now who can break the
news tenderly. l believe. if any one can"
He took my hand in his and led me
10 the room he called his office. Then he
left me a moment, and when he returned
l heard the rustic of a womans garments
following him.
This is the nurse who will write the
letter" he said.
Il thank her." said I. BE gentle, mad
am; my Bettina has a gentle heart"
What snail I writer" she asked, al
most in a whisper.
Write that am dead" said. Write
that I loved her 20 the last. Write thar
babe you tell her when her grief passed
to wed another and be happy"
The pen moved over the paper. Soon
she said:
4 have written. Shall I read it TO
you?''
yes. II you Will, madam"
Die unhappy girl! Your Bernard has
persisted. What is life to you any longer
He IS dead. Had he lived. blind or MAIN
ed, or helpless in any way, there would
be hope for YOU. You could fly 70 him:
you could comfort him; you could toll for
him: you could be his sunlight. Alas,
no such joy awaits you. He is gone. lie
down and die. This : all that you can
do He is dead"
why do you write thus?" 1 cried. Who
are you? How did you come By that
voice. Speak"
Then ! felt two little hands steal about
my neck and wet cheek touch mine,
and a whisper came:
Bernard. Il Is 7 Did you not guess
Did you rot know your own Bettin1?
The good doctor" she said. the first day
OF your illness found a letter you had
r.-,--- - ~. Al .cr-t 4 u-fn uorri II