The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1905-06-15
BROKE INTO A PASSION OF soBs.

everything about her as he noticed how
ill she looked and how much worse was
her cold She did not ask him to walk
with her, did not ask him anything con-
corning himself. And he had developed a
love for work-had she not told him he
ought to love work?-and he wished she
knew 1t. But he could not tell her unless
she were interested in the fact
That day he went with ''the gang" His
mother had gone out, and there was moth
ing for him to do In the way of taking
care of her.
He did not see her that week Sunday
he thought he would go and make Up with
1.-The gang" but, drawn by a force to
which he could not then have given a
name, he went to the mission. Miss Cal
derson was not there The gentleman told
Bart that she was ill., but that he might
go into another class. Bart turned on his
heel. He went at once to Miss Calder
sons.
She was lying back In her chair Bart
could have cried out, she looked so dreary,
so lonely, so wasted She had a doctor.
she said, but the sickness had been coming
on for long time, and it ran in her fam
ily her mother having died Of it. But she
grew cheerful now that Bart had come,
and he sat there her cheerfulness COM
municating itself to him When it was
time for him to go she said a strange
thing
"Barty." she said you have made a
better woman of me-poor, lonely boy,
You have softened my heart with your
belief in ne, and-that is all Come
Thursday evening"
He had never been so happy in all his
life before. He could have kissed his
mother II she would have let him
Thursday evening he went to Miss Cal
uGTS0n in iv y r
company. The woman from whom she
rented her room was with her now but
went away for awhile. Then the little.
pale teacher turned eagerly to Bart
quick she said. THAT box under the
table. There are some dead flowers in it
my friends roses, those the man gave
her. Burn them for me"
Bart took the box and obeyed her Only.
he kept one faded little bud in his folded
hand.
She had turned her eyes to the stove;
the faint cracking scintillation made by
the burning flowers lighted them up. She
was CHASTITY. THANK you" she said when
the dried blossoms We're all gone and
closed her eyes 81 should like to help
you little, Barty. What shall do?"
Read about Simson." he answered in a
rush. He wanted to see in her face that
look which had first attracted him to her,
feeble frame, that look of passionate feel
ing, and to see that look called forth by
something she should do for him.
She held the book in her wasted hands
and in a muff!ed voice read a part of the
old story, but the old look did not come
into her face.
She closed the book
Thank you, Barty," she said at is
you who have helped, as usual You
ha Aot
white rose told me how foolish | was to
hold on to an old seEtiment, and. reading
tonight of Samson, l find 1 have forgiven
man and woman whom 1 had thought
did me great wrong. You are a strong,
good fellow Bart, my Samson. Goodby,
dear frlend-not good nightr'
OF course he did not understand her
He had her hand in his: there was some
thing to say to her, something man may
say to one woman in the world, but he did
not know what it was. He wrenched him
self away from her. His fingers on the
knob of the door, she called him back
BE an industrious boy, a good man, a
Samson without his weakness" she said
kiss me-" She held her brow to his lips
Touching her thus, he almost knew what
he had to say to her, but she turned her
face from him, and, awed, he crept from
the room.
be told Sunday morning at the mission
but he was told it, and he went away
No one kneV where he hid till late in the
afternoon. Then, with soft, white rose in
his hand, he went to Miss Caldersons
They let him into the room where she
lay, one small, cold hand folded over the
other. Upon these hands so folded, as
she had told him her friends mothers
dead hands had had white roses on them,
he laid the pallid flower he had brought
looking down upon the still face that told
to no earthly eye the story of the heart
as still. And then he went away, his eyes
buried in the sleeve of his coat, cropping
with his free hand for the side of the
staircase.
Every Sunday when he has the money to
spare a boy buys a white rose and goes
and lays ii upon a mound unmarked save
by the dead flower he has placed there
on a former occasion. Against his heart
at the time is a crisping bud which was
saved at the time Bart O'Donnell burned
the dead flowers of Miss Caldersons
friend, But this is not Bart O'Donnell;
without act of legislature he has become
Bart Simson, and so he is known Did
1ot Miss Calderson want it so? He has
changed his life and his name for the lit
tie, pale teacher. Some day he may know
that he loved her