The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1899-02-07
HERS IN MISFORTUNE

nodded in their chairs beside the fireplace
all was as clean as it could have been in
palace, but she had hard work to fill those
two old mouths and her own also. There
was no one else to do it.
The lady at the great house bought her
flax and paid we'll for it. But, after al,
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.
Bettina and had been betrothed two years.
We were betrothed still, and no nearer mar
riage, though l had striven with all my
strength.
"Wat patiently" Bettina said to me
sometimes. sWhat does it matter? We
love each other; we trust each other; let us !
be content"
AS for me, / felt that if l would ever win
Bettina / must leave Savoy and go to Amer
lea, where SO many of our country people
had already gone, and whence they wrote
letters that made our hearts beat with hope
for the future Itold Bettina so, and though
she wept, she said:
go Go, Bernard, and / will pray for
you. 1t is all a girl can do"
I had no fear that Bettina would forget
me. 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 Bettina loved me, and love is
adamantine.
We crossed the sea in safety. stood
at last in a strange land and among strange
people, but found them not unkind. Il
found work at once. / spent little. Week
by week the little heap in my moleskin
pouch grew greater. Twas gloriously happy.
l wrote joyful letters to Bettina. She an
swered me as hopefully.
A year passed by-l2 long months. One
more year and she would come to me. /
should press my lips to hers-all would
be forgotten but our meeting, and while |
lived the old people should share our happi-
ness.
With such thoughts as these in my mind
l entered the great factory where work
one day. l said to myself, as threw off
my jacket:
AT noontime will write to Bettina."
I remember thinking this. l remember
crossing the long room. remember a sud-
den flash and crash, and the oaths of men,
and girls mad scream. After that moth
ing more, until a sense of pain awakened
me and found myself lying in the dark,
with my own hand, cold and clammy, lying
in great, warm, soft hand that held it
tenderly.
.sWhere am II" I said, and my voice
sounded low and hoarse in my own ears
s'Who is this?"
''lt is the DOCTOR" said voice. BE calm,
my friend
"Is it night?" asked.
sit is night" said the voice.
"Why do you not light lamp?"
He made no answer.
"What has happened?"
cit was an explosion" he said after az
pause. you were hurt. There were many
killed outright"
Doctor" said, SIS it night?"
sIt is night" he said solemnly.
But only for me-" said. Il know it.
am smitten blind"
CRY 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 last year.
Some wretch had stolen the little moleskin
pouch from my bosom. was beggar and
blind. | prayed to die, but I lived, and at
last grew strong again.
One day, as | sat by the hospital window,
| formed a resolution. / said to myself:
l can at least be brave enough to spare
Bettina something. know that if she knew
the truth she would grieve bitterly and re-
j
sent home, as the doctor says might be,
she would be constant forever-she would
even marry me and try to feed me as she
does her helpless ones. That shall never be.
l will send her word that am dead, and
then, when she has grieved awhile, youth
will triumph; she will marry the young
farmer who loves her so truly, and is good
as well as rich.
|. The goood doctor shall write me a letter,
and SO as he passed called to him and
told him all.
ut will be best for her." said cit will
set her free. She will grieve bitterly,
know, but the other lover will one day blot
out my memory. Tell her l died with her
name on my lps-I do. AS die, heart and
soul, here before you, l have but one
thought. 1t is Bettina."
She loves me even as love her." said.
II 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 /, especially as it is touch
ing and not quite true. ] have nurse here
now who can break the news tenderly, be-
| lieve, if anyone can"
(, He took my hand in his and led me to the
room he called his Office. Then he left me
moment, and when he returned heard the
AuoSIS "a WoiLioA . SdIluc1lIS IOllOWlQ& QIUs
'This is the nurse who will write the let
ter" he said.
Il thank her," said I. "Be gentle, madam;
my Bettina has gentle heart"
What shall write?" she asked. almost
in whisper.
Write that 1 am dead" 1 said. "writ.
that loved her to the last Write that I
babe you tell her when her grief had passed
| to wed another and be happy"
The pen moved over the paper. Soon sH|
said:
Il have written. Shall read it to yous"
Eyes. if 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 MANNED
or helpless in any way. there would be hope
for you. You could fly to 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 is all that you can do. He is dead"
Why do you write thus ?"I cried. "Who
are you? How did you come by that voice.