La Junta tribune., 1899-05-20
:; "lIlled down to Newbern las,

swer; KILLED down to Newbern fast
year.
You knew him. them" cried.
startled. being unaware. you see. till he
| SPOKE lat had utte red my thought
aloud.
"Yahi yah!" burst out Jem, ".ckon
I did. marster: used to long to him.
me an all my folks"
You! Paul Dumsrcie's slave! Ana
Helen's now?"
mo. sir. Miss Helen never would
| own wedem. Tell us to go North. and
when she cum stick to her close. you
bet. But 'spect l own myself. now"
replied Jem with another laugh and
mixture Of negro patois and Yankee
slang in his speech.
You do. of course. Jem." for his last
remark was half question:; there are
no slaves here. But was Captain Du-
marcie In the army?"
| Yes, sir. Long OF the Cotfeder-
ates. When he killed, Miss Helen
come North to get his body. aid, oh.
how she weep when she fnd hr been
buried many days! She nebber go
back any more. She been here ebber
since. and Jem with her."
"Ahw / said. But l am very
thirsty. VIII you bring me drink.
Jem?" would not question a servant.
but had received information enough
to think about for one day.
| Helen was a widow, then. How
lonely she was. and what hard. hard
life after the years of luxury she had
enjoyed in her southern home!
| A few days afterward. when I was
nearly well enough to be discharged,
Helen spoke to me OF herself. She told
me OF the dreadful parting that was
final. OF her journey northward when
tidings Of her husbands death came.
and finding only the grave where his
mutilated remains were laid days be-
fore.
MY little Phillip died but a month
| before she said. 'and l had no longer
any tie to bind me. My dream of love
and home was past. Stern. sorrowful
realities presented themselves Intel
ligent nurses were wanted, and I re-
solved to take my place among them.
Ny life Is dedicated to the work"
But. Helen. you need not sacrifice
your life You are looking pale and
worn. When my mother comes to take
me home, go with us. You know how
welcome you will be-
| II thank you, Charley" she an
swered. as II something in my words
had recalled our youth. calling me by
the old. familiar name. "but my work
is here; l cannot leave 1t. After the
war is over. perhaps. II live till
then"
| Her tone was very sad. but she
looked up as she paused. and a touch
ing smile. full Of resignation and hope.
dawned over the marble pallor of her
face. She rose up and went away.
| When my mother came she added
her entreaties to mine. and even some
thing OF the authority which her age
and long friendship justified. But
Helen. with warm thanks. put her
aside, as she had done me. Her work
was there. she said: she could not
leave 1t. And SO we left her to her
| patient rounds and mournful duties.
went home q crippled man. No
more Of outward striving life for me.
NO dreams and successes. no ambitions
to be realized. The future seemed a
drear blank fell into a morbid state
thoughts introverted self prominent.
bitter. uncharitable. unreasoning. l
supposed l was grateful to Helen. but
often found myself wishing she had
let me die. And. as could not yet
hold q pen in my left hand. made
that an excuse for not writing to her.
when either Of my sisters would gladly
have written for me. and often did
write ON their own account. and
thanked her over and over again for
preserving to them the brother. who
had been too sullen and bearish to
deserve such kindness ever since his
return. Helen answered brieny-her
time was 30 occupied-but she said
little about herself.
: 1t came upon us all with . great
shock, then, when. about two months
after my return home. the papers
brought US tidings OF her death.
Faithful to the end. she had never
left her post. even to die. When she
could NO longer resist her weakness
and disease she lay down in the great,
bare room. and upon the very cot
had laid ON to die. There poor. faith
full Jem watched her, with all q wom
ans tenderness, to the last, and kind.
n Ik1S