Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1902-10-30

err where / could do it,"
II don't believe I'll let you," and
he-shadow of the little frown he had
already learned to know crossed her
face. I've heard that men who write
books are more for them than any
thing else, and it would make me per-
fectly wretched to have your heart
in a stupid book"
Helen did not come for the we'd
ding; but after they were settled
in their home, yielding to Roberts
repeated letters, she went on for a
visit. Lillian received her with a
sweet freshness, so subtle as to be
felt rather than observed, and took
her to her room. 1T is not yet
quite as / hope to have it," she said
with an accent of apology; "but as
you were only going to stay so lit
tie while, 1 was sure you would not
mind And then she went on to
speak with pretty concern of Helen's
journey and her fatigue; surely
there was no claw here TO iniict a
mountaineering but the softest vel
| vet.
. Robert had built such hopes on
the results of this visit; but some
way, it he began to talk to Helen
of the days when they two were
alone in the world together, Lillian
was apt to develop a headache that
shut her up in her room; and if Helen
petted him in her old loving way,
Lillian would show her displeasure
by Furnishing him with a cold if not
sulky silence, that made the house,
hold atmosphere anything but cheer
ing.
Helen's visit was but short, and at
its end it is hard to say which of the
trio was the most relieved. Robert
he was standing beside Helen on
the PLATFORM waiting for the train
you know how gladly I would be a
sister to Lillian if she needed me, if
she would let me-"
"Yes, l know" he answered, with a
feeling that was half chagrin and half
p~erplexity; but Lillian is so jealous
Iy fond of me now; but she will get
over that by and bye" And as the
train rolled away he promised him
self that at least he would show
his affection by the frequency of his
letters.
What" remarked Lillian, with a
sudden sharpness of tone, as she
picked up a letter by his plate one
morning, another letter from Hell
en-? If you answer all she writes,
| shouldn't think you would have
time for much else,' and Robert
wrote to Helen that she had better
in future direct to his office-post-
men were sometimes a little careless.
But Helen understood. She was
ten years older than Robert; she
had given the best of her own young
years to this orphan brother; she
had put aside the love of her life
that she might, by her teaching, help
him to the education he desired.
And now, someway, she was a little
tired; her work seemed done, she
longed for a quiet corner, she felt
hungry for the nearness of this, her
n earth tie; but Roberts happi-
ness was more than her own, and she
took up her work patiently again.
In time another guest came into
the home "I'm sorry" Lillian said
weakly as Robert bent over her and
the other, the tiny head, that it
isn't a boy. They say that sometimes
men love a daughter better than
their wife; it would break my heart
if you should love the baby best.
Promise me that you never will?"
what a foolish Lillian" he an
swered; "of course l never will"
When it came to naming the baby
he had his way. There never can
be but n Lillian to me, so Helen
it shall be-" and he wrote "Aunt Hell
en-" wonderful stories of the beauty
and brightness of Baby Nellie.
After a little he began to catch a
note, a something, between the
lines in Helen's letters that vaguely
troubled him, and one day there
came a letter in a hand so changed
he hardly knew it; she was sick,
would he come to her?
Lillian was in her. room with a
cold and slight fever when he car
ried the letter to her. "Surely you
are not going and leave me here
sick" she exclaimed. "How can you
be so cruel? If Helen we're very
badly off she could not have written
herself. Well, if you will go, only
wait till morning; half a day won't
make any difference to her"
Robert hesitated, he felt impelled
to go at once; but if he crossed
Lillian, it might make her so much
worse that he could not go at all.
In the morning, as he was stepping
on the train, a telegram was handed
him-"Helen is dying"
"You are too late"-he felt the
rebuking accent in the nurses tone
land she was so anxious to see you.'
Lillian wrote him a letter full of
love and sympathy; she said to every
one, Dear Helen, how sad it is"
AT the same time down in her heart
there was a little feeling that she
never put into words or even con
crete thought-now he is wholly
mine.
But not entirely hers; there was
the little Helen. And as the child
grew beyond the years when she
could be conveniently put to sleep
or sent to the nursery, loving, low
able, always ready to spring into her
fathers arms, the baneful root in
Lillian's heart took a fresh start.
Every caress he gave to Nellie she
felt herself defrauded of, every fond
word a robbing of her right; to