The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-12-08

What is the good of nving-what's the good
of anything. in fact? Good heavens, L
never thought l could love a slip of a girl
like this. To think that she won't even try
to love me-"
"Thank heaven for that" thought Sir
Jasper.
1t had been a terrible accident, and al
together a very sad affair, indeed. Sir
Jasper was very badly hurt-so badly, in
fact, that the doctors gave little hope of
his recovery. The gay crowd of visitors
had all left Shallowdene in a great hurry,
for it was changed into a house of sickness
now. 1t was strange that, arter having
braved so many dangers and lived through
such exciting scenes, Sir Jasper should
come by almost his death in such a very
simple way. He had been riding through
the woods with loose rein, and his horse
had stumbled in a rabbit-hole and thrown
him. His head had come in contact with
a sharp stone, which had stunned him, and
he had been dragged by his frightened
horse for many yards, with his foot en-
tangled in the reins, until some laborers
had found him and carried him home TO
the frightened household, and the doctors,
who were hastily summoned, said it was a
very bad affair indeed, and, even though the
patient might not die, it could only be a
case of partial recovery.
Lady Conyers promptly donned a de-
lightfully big apron, and quite the most
becoming thing in caps, and nursed him.
For the time being, she was quite attentive
and good-natured, but the doctors were
rorx- ct,DiJ Jr;o5 49, old Snac+orIad oraa-
lures, and the great house at Shallowdene
was very ~slow-there was simply no one
to admire her; and then the deadly monot-
ony and depression of a sickroom was bad
for the complexion; and so, in a surpris-
ingly short time, her ladyship returned to
town.
1t was very trying to Joyce 10 want to
share the duties of the sickroom with the
two entirely competent hospital nurses
they were quite enough for the most exact
ing of invalids, and what could Joyce know
about nursing? Surely, nothing at all
only just so much as any sweet-natured,
tender-hearted woman knows how TO nurse
the man she loves with all the womanly
goodness of her heart.
Joyce, during those weeks Of sickness,
was very pale and very still.
Joyce, who had been so gay and happy
and laughing and mischievous, had turned
into a sad-faced, wistful-eyed woman now,
with always that great aching pain of
hopelessness at her heart that would go
on through all the long years of life that
lay stretching before her.
But Sir Jasper did not die; he made, in
stead, quite a surprising recovery, only nc
power on earth could save him from re-
naming a hopeless cripple all his life.
When he regained consciousness he would
lie very still. always where he could see
Joyce's sweet face as she moved about the
room in her quiet, gentle way.
The touch of her hand would send a
thousand mad thoughts rushing through
his brain.
One day. when he had woke up from a
long and dreamless sleep-surely, he
thought, that must have been a kiss he felt
on his forehead.
Joyce was sitting by the bedside with a
tinge of carmine on her cheeks, which were
always so pale now.
"Ah, Joyce, l never believed in angels
before. but 1 do now. though. for ever since
1 have been i'll 1 have had one sitting by
my bed. Tell me, have l been saying some
very wild things lately? 1 am sure I am
quite san enough now. though, TO be
talked to-"
Joyce interrupted him.
Il have a letter here for you from Ma
bel. 1t came this morning. Do you think
you are we'll enough now to read it your
self?''
Lady Conyers had been quite correct and
regular in her correspondence since Sir
Jasper had been sufficiently recovered 10
understand; she had even gone so far as
TO make her letters quite long and enter
tanning with all the piquant little bits of
scandal about town.
But Sir Jasper did not seem anxious to
open his wife's communication. Instead
made an angry gesture OF impotence