The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1905-06-07


lTd R,I painted walls and doors
2l l@lu and windows open to the
pne-cLid mountain side, man sat
at a small deal table reading over a
pile Of cherished letters. They were
written by a woman; dated from a
house on Beacon street. Boston, and
they dealt with books, with music, and
with art To the reader who was
hard pressed in the battle Of life, they
seemed to let him into a great treasure.
house, while he longed for the more
CONSTRUCTED walls of a home: the sim
pier beauties Of a flreSide. All. they
were so intellectual. these letters. and
try as he would, he could read nothing
between their linesl As he turned over
the pages, a tiny child of three years
old, with large rent in her pinafore,
ran in from time to time from the open
air. At sight Of her, the cry in the
heart Of the man for the woman was
stronger than ever Both Of them
needed herman and child. they
needed her so much.
At length he took his pen and began
to write to her. All her letters ad-
dressed him as Dear Mr.. Geraldson"; ;
his letters to this date had been in
variably superscribed to "Dear Miss
Vining." But now he broke through
the wells Of reserve. He wrote to her
rs the dearest woman on earth, calling
her his love. He threw aside all the
topics with which they had dallied so
long, and wrote simply of himself-of
his own hopes and fears. He told her
how for years he had been wanting to
ask her to come out to him; how his
poverty had forbidden his doing so:
and how, in spite of all his efforts, he
had remained poor and struggling,
without anything TO give her. Two
months ago he had believed hat at last
his chance had come. He had gone
up into the Trinity Mountains to take
up an offer of partnership in promis-
ing prospect" he had received from
a friend. But on the long stage jour
ney from Rcdding through the heat
and dust, he had fallen In with an un-
fortunate Engllshman, very sick with
typhoid. who had implored him to
stand by him and see him on his legs
again. Circumstances had been such
that it had been impossible in COM
mon humanity not to stay with this
man and his little mite of a motherless
girl. So he had nursed and tended him,
and had experienced the satisfaction of
pulling him through the worst dan
ger But the poor fellow, who was
terribly impatient, had attempted TO
get out of bed in spite of every warn
ing, and had died suddenly one day
from the passage of a clot of blood to
the heart, when his nurse and little
daughter had left him for a breath of
fresh air.
"And So" went on the letter, 81
found myself with the child on my
hands. haven't the heart to do any
thing but keep her. For though ap-
parently she has no relatives or
friends, she's a splendid little piece of
stuff, and it would be a crime to send
her to any institution And the sequel
of this is, my dear dear friend, that
the venture which was to bring me
fortune, to give me the right to ask
you for yourself has come to naught
By the time / had fixed everything up,
my friend, unable to wait for me, had
taken in another partner on the deal.
/ went prospecting near Weaverville,
but luck was against me. Then both
the little grille and myself fell sick
with malaria, and so | came home to
my pine trees again"
Here GeraldsOn's pen fell from his
hand. for the fever had him in lts grip,
and he was shaking miserably. Later
on he managed TO put the letter into
an envelope addressed only with her
name. for after all, he thought, he
should never send 1t, and he left it
on his table, thinking that when he
had strength again, he would go on
writing, just for the sake Of the conso-
lation It was merely TO pretend that he
could tell her everything. But the let
ter was never finished. He grew rap
idly weaker, till one morning he found
himself so sick that he could scarcely
drag himself to the couch on the ver-
anda to sean the landscape for the help
that never came. For Lone Pine
Ranch was isolated as only mountain
ranches can be, and no one might set
foot on II for weeks together. Now
as he lay helpless, unable to move.
lost sometimes in suffocating black
ness, the child brought him water In
the tiny cup-drops that tantalized
rather than quenched his thirst-and
he wondered what would become OF
her, and in his last coherent moments
told her TO run out along the trail and
call with all her might. That was the
last thing he could do Soon after he
ceased to move, and did not hear the
desolate wall that resounded through
the empty house.
But Geraldson was not to lose him.
self forever In the dark water of un-
consciousness. once more he felt him
self alive, and on the verge OF sleep
lay With leaden eyelids, unwilling tc
awake, till memory Of little Margery
whom he had last seen weeping in 6
corner Of the room, forced him to opeI
his eyes. To his surprise his bee
clothing covered him very neatly. Th'
sheet was folded under his chin in {
strange, comforting, new way, so tina
sense OF peace and security fell OF
him, and he lay very still, sure fOl
some unaccountable reason that Mar
gerry was all right Waking was won
deEfully pleasant. In the dim light Of
the darkened room a slender white