The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1902-04-11

and the fair hair was in Saxon
abundance.
And on this handsome young face
was the almost sacred beauty of the
faces which death has touched.
She drew the curtains, shaded the
light of the lamps, prepared the med
icines, and then, a prayer book in her
hand, settled herself for the nights
watching.
He had opened his eyes and their
gaze followed her.
The harmony of the woman's move
ments was like music for the eyes.
Such repose and quiet emanated from
her that it seemed to him at times
as if her presence held the melody in
check. The long months during
which she had nursed him had been
his best. He had had many nurses
in the course of his life, but none
had left traces in his memory. Miss
Mary was devotion itself. She be-
longed to that lay association of Eng
lish nurses which recruits itself from
the best families of the country. Per-
conner because she was a compatriot
and spoke his language. She did not
nurse him as a servant, anxious only
to merit her salary, but as sister of
the great family above, who had
come to care for her suffering broth
er and smooth his way to the Fa-
theirs house.
He did not speak to her as hire
ling, but as lady who had done him
the honor of softening by her care
the horrors Of this illness, and of
tightening his bitter solitude with
her presence.
He closed his eyes, lulled by the
deep moaning of the sea and the
wailing of the mistral in the pines.
Sister Mary read these words from
the book in her hands:
"When thy brother shall be poor
and shall hold out trembling hands
to thee, thou shalt help him, even the
stranger, that he may live"
Toward the middle of the night the
sick man awoke with a start and gave
way to long paroxysm of coughing.
The nurse supported the poor, help
less form, shaken by the hoarse
cough from the lungs, which seemed
to bark at death. He fell back, van
quished, gasping a little.
She would have rung, but with a
gesture of authority and despair he
held her arm. What was the good?
He did not wish a witness of his
agony.
His fingers CROPPED on the coverlid
with piteous effort, as if seeking
to grasp the intangible.
She took the piteous hands in hers.
The sick man opened his eyes with
quick comprehension, and great
tears, his last, rolled down his
cheeks.
"Sister Mary, is it not horrible to
die thus, without one who loves me-
all alone?"
Like an echo, the nurse heard the
doctors advice: Soften his last
hours in charity"
Then she said:
"Am I not here?"
"You, oh, you. Yes, you have
nursed me well, you are kind, you
make it seem homelike to me, but I
know that you would give the same
care to the poorest of your patients,
and that you would show the same
compassion tonight to a dying beg
gar. Is it not SOP"
He spoke truly. She would have an
swered eyes," but the dying eyes
were fixed on hers with a wonderful
expression of apprehension, vacilla-
ting between joy and doubt. She felt
that the truth would be cruelty, the
falsehood a consolation, and that in
the desolation of this hour the ideal
lay in one word: tenderness.
Was not her religion a religion of
sacrifice?
She said very simply: NO." like a
woman's confession.
A light flashed over his face; it
was as if window had been opened
toward the sun; then weakness from
excess of joy laid him back on his
pillow; but he took the girls hand
anu cdItlcu IL W HIS ups, LuuIIuuIllS.
"Thank you, thank you, Mary"
When the valet came the next
morning, he found his master sitting
up, impatient to rise.
They drew the curtains and the
bright sun of the Riviera, which he
had seen die so tragically the evening
before, rose again for him.
He dressed himself with care,
breakfasted with convalescent's ap-
petite, and when the doctor entered,
he said to him:
ooh, am much better"
The doctor was silent. He knew
the happy exaggeration of consump-
tives, which is the revenge for the
crisis and desolations which give
them foretaste of funerals. He
permitted him to go out for a drive
in the sun. The young nurse blushed
to see the look of hope with which
Douglas Lindsay received the permits
sion.
1t seemed to her that a great re-
sponsibility rested on her shoulders.
She wished to speak to him as usual,
hut he