The Opelousas courier., 1905-09-16
and bravery in this dreadful emer-

gency."
A fierce spasm Of pain crossed his
.ace. Then he turned away without
speaking, aud took down his hat and
coat, and they walked together to the
door. He paused on the doorstep, look
ing wistfuliy down at her.
"How can you get home? he said.
at is dreadful, | know, Frederick
nobody but she ever called him any
thing but Fred-"but 1 think I can get
along" the wind nearly taking her
from her feet as she spoke.
"1f | might accompany YOU" he said,
1lesitati1tg, and adding, "if you are not
| afraid of being contaminated"
For answer; she put her hands in his,
confidingly.
While she lived, Bessie Upton never
| forgot the close, nervous clasp with
| which he held her hands; but he took
her carefully and tenderly to her door,
and then TURNED away into the storm
| and darkness.
One, two, three hours-and, oh, such
long, intcrminable ages as they
seemed!
perhaps l have sent him to his
death, too" she moaned, sadly. ooh,
If l could only know and see just where
| they are!'
If she could, she would have seen
d slight; determined figure; battling
with the strength of d giant against
the winds that disputed his progress
step by step. Falling sometimes over
| PROSTATE trees, anon borne down by
sudden drifts of STOW, yet struggling
| on with undated zeal, till he M at
last to a still, white figure lying across
| the path, %entangled and held down by
the debris of broken wheels and tree
limbsi
Two hours later, when poor Bessie
had 1iearly given them both UP for
dead, Fred Wildburn staggered into
| the room, and laid her husband at her
feet.
81 have fulfilled the trust" he said,
family. and sank down beside Upton,
who was slowly rousing from the ter
rible chill and torpor- that had over
powered him:
"Oh, Henry! he has tainted! And
sect"
She grew suddenly white as she
pointed to q small stream of blood
that stained his shirt bosom, caused
by d sudden hemorrhage from the
lungs:
1t was morning before they could get
a physician there. Wildburn had laid
in an unconscious state all night; but
the flow of blood had ceased, and they
thought it only the torpor of exhaus-
ton.
poor Fredv Henry Upton saiu,
"there was some good in him, after all.
I owe my life to his bravery, and I
shah't forget 1t Iii a hurry: / have been
thinking, Bessie, that | will take him
into the mill, and see if I can't make
something Of him yet. I intend to re-
ward him handsomely for this"
The doctor came at last; but his
grave face told the story before he
dptted his lips.
"There is no chance for him to re-
cover" he said.
A little after moor the dying nan
opened his eyes, and looked about him.
Fred" Mfr. Upton said. feelingly,
"1've not treated you as I should have
done III times past, and l didn't de-
serve this at your hands. I want you
to forgive me, n11d---'
'sBessie-where is Bessiew he in
%terrupted; faintiS,
hftete, dear Frederick, here"
And she took his hands id hers; and
bent over him till he felt d warm tear
splash on his face:
ooh, Bessie! it's a. miserable life, l
know. but. it's I'LL t have to give; and
1 would give it a hundred times over
to save you from sorrow" he said,
with a smile that glorifed his coarse
face: at was my good right arm-the
arm sou saved for me. you know, dear.
| told you / should never forget, and
/ never did! Nobody but you ever
trusted to the good there was in me
little enough there was, l know" he
said, dreamily, his voice growing sud
denly weak.
Bessie was crying softly. He opened
his eyes, and gave n long, eager look
in her face, and in that wistful gaze
Bessie Upton read the secret no one
else ever knew Or guessed.-NeW York
Weekly.