The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1901-08-09

which she would never see.
Has Henry Gomez" she asked OF her
father, and In the tones Of her voice there
was an unusual gentleness, for just as
she was dying Rose was learning to live.
For a time she had seemed 80 indiffer-
ent and obstinate that Mrs. Rowland had
almost despaired. But night after night,
when her daughter thought she slept, she
prayed for the young girl, that she might
not die until she had first learned the
way Of eternal life. And, as II in an
swer to her prayers, Rose gradually be-
gan to listen, and as she listened, she
wept, wondering, though, why her grand
mother thought her so much more wicked
than anyone else.
On her return from the city Jenny had
told her as gently as possible Of Henrys
conduit toward Ella, and OF her fears
that he was becoming more disspated
than ever. For time Rose lay perfect
ly still, and Jenny. thinking she was
asleep. was about to leave the room,
when her sister called her back, and bid
ding her sit down by her side, said "Tell
me, Jenny, do you think Henry has any
love for me!"
He, would be an unnatural brother II
he had not" answered Jenny, her own
heart yearning more tenderly toward her
sister, whose gentle manner she could
not understand
"Then," resumed Rose. "if he loves
me. he will be sorry when ! am dead,
and perhaps II may save him from ruin"
The tears dropped slowly from her long
eyelashes, while Jenny, laying her round,
rosy cheek against the thin, pale face
near her, sobbed out. you must not die
dear Rose. You must not die, and
leave u.s."
From that time the failure was visible
and rapid, aud though letters went fire.
quently to Henry, telling him of his sis
ter's danger, he still fingered by the side
Of the brilliant beauty, while east morn
ing Rose asked, "Will he come to-day"
and each night she wept that he was not
there.
Calmly and without a murmur she had
heard the story of their ruin from their
father, who could not let her die with
out undeceiving her. Before that time
she had asked to be taken back to Mount
Auburn, designating the spot where she
would be buried, but now she insisted up
ON being laid by the running brood at the
foot of her grandmother's garden, and
near a green, messy bank where the
spring blossoms were earliest found, and
where the flowers of autumn fingered
longest The music of the falling water,
she said, would soothe her as she slept
and its cool moisture keep the grass green
and fresh upon her early grave.
One day, when Mrs. Lincoln was sit
ting by her daughter and, as she fire.
quently did, uttering invectives against
Mount Holyoke, etc, Rose said, Don't
talk so, mother. Mount Holyoke Semi
nary had nothing to do with Fastening
my death. have done it myself by my
own carelessness;" and then she confess
ed how many times she had deceived her
mother, and thoughtlessly exposed her
health, even when her lungs and side
were throbbing with pain. 81 know you
will forgive me" said she, 'for most Sc
verely have been punished"
Then, as she heard Jenny's voice in the
room below, she added, There is one
other thing which | would say to you.
Ere | die, you must promise that Jenny
shall marry William Bender He is poor,
| know, and so are we, but he has a no.
Bile heart, and now, for my sake, mother,
take back the bitter words you once
spoke to Jenny, and say that she may
wed him. She will soon be your only
daughter, and why should you destroy
her happiness. Promise me, mother,
promise that she shall marry him."
Mrs. Lincoln, though poor, was proud
and naughty still, and the struggle in her
bosom was long and severe, but love for
her dying child conquered at last.
"And mother" continued Rose, "may
he not be sent for now? | cannot be here
long, and once more | would see him and
tell him that | gladly claim him as a
brother"
A brother! How heavily those words
smote upon the heart Of the sick grit
Henry was yet away, and though in Jen-
ny's letter Rose herself had once feebly
traced the words, Come, brother-dO
come he still fingered, as if bound by
a spell he could not break. And so days
went by, and night succeeded night, until
the bright May morning dawned, the last
Rose could ever see. Slowly up the
eastern horizon came the warm spring
sun, and as its red beams danced for a
time upon the wall of Roses chamber,
she gazed wistfully upon it, murmuring,
1T is the last-the last that will ever rise
for me-"
William Bender was there. He had
come the night before, bringing word that
Henry would follow the next day. There
was a gay party to which he had prom
ised to attend Miss Herndon, and he
deemed that sufficient reason why he
should neglect his dying sister.
''If Henry does not come" said Rose.
tell him it was NO last request that he
turn away from the wine cup, and say
that the bitterest pang l felt in dying
was fear that my only brother should
fill a drunkard's grave. He cannot look
upon me dead, and feel angry that | wish
ed him to reform. Aud as he stands over
my coffin, tell him to promise never again
to touch the deadly poison"
Here she became too much exhausted
tq say more, and soon after fell into a
quiet sleep. When sheoawoke her father
was sitting across the room, with his
head resting upon the window sill, while
her own was pillowed upon the strang
arm of George Moreland, who bent ten
derly over her, and soothed her as he
would a child. Quickly her fading cheek
glowed, and her eye sparkled with some
thing of its olden light but George
George was all she had strength to say,
and when Mary, who had accompanied
him, approached her she only knew that
she was recognized by the pressure of the
little blue-veined hand, which soon drop
ped heavily upon the counterpane, while
the eyelids closed languidly, and with
the words, HE will not eome,' she again
slept, but this time twas the long, deep |
sleep from which she would never awak-
en-.
Slowly the shades of night fell around |
the cottage. Softly the kind-hearted |
neighbors passed up and down the mar
row staircase, ministering first to the |
dead, aud then turning aside to weep as
they looked upon the bowed man, who |
with his haad ,n0n fho =. in 1ovp ell SfiIi !