The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1907-07-26

the truth was, she never had been
strong.
Not strong! This was what he said
that night; but the next day there
floated to Noel Lowther a darkened
cloud. She was i'll, dangerously. The
long night hours had brought forth
this much, that there was no vague
anxiety, but a terrible agonizing fear,
In the hearts of those who watched
about the pillow where the sweet face
rested in unresponsive silence.
Among the many who raised he NUT.
fed knocker at the rector's house
that day, came the methodical figure
Of the curate, who made his few,
stiff inquiries, in his usual constrain-
Cd manner. He had learned that q
member of the family was unwell,
and sc had stopped on his way home
to inquire as to their progress. This
was all. But his mediocre face was
pale in it's sallow way, and when the
servant replied to his question, it be-
came paler still. The invalid was not
better, indeed, was vel worse; and
then the woman who gave the answer
stood for a moment, looking in I'M
certain wonder at the odd change which
had come over the caller.
Il am-very sorry-to hear this"
he faltered hoarsely. at last. Il did
not imagine there was any danger.
l. She is so young. Perhaps there
will be a change for the better to.
night. l hope so. l will call again
in the morning." And then he turned
hurriedly away.
Through the slowly dragging hours
Of that sad winter night a light burned
steadily in one window Of the rectory.
and inside the room its brightness
fell upon a shining, tumbled mass of
pretty hair, forming a halo about an
innocent face upon the pillow; and
the watchers who moved noiselessly
to and fro, turned back to this pillow
always, whatever might have been
the task they left to perform; and
their wearied eyes bore a fresh shadow
Of anxious fear. In this fear and
grief not one of them dreamed that
there might be neal them other watch.
ers than themselves. And yet II one
Of them had raised the curtain for q
moment and glanced down into the
cold darkness of the street below, she
a watcher, of whose despairing dread
they knew nothing, but who watched
with them nevertheless. They might
have een this figure any night
Of the many that the light fell
in subdued, prophetic dimness up
on the pillow, and they might have
seen it any morning of the many that
Noel Lowther called to make his meth
odically worded, constrained inquiries;
but their hearts were so bound within
the four walls of the dim room, that
not one of them had even the slight
est shadow of a thought of its near
ness, eve when the end came to
them, and he shared it with them.
There was a knot of Grape on the
door the next morning, when the
staid, respectable figure stood there,
and the servant who replied to his
summons met his glance with eyes
heavy with weeping.
1T is useless to ASK" he said, in
the strange breathless way the wom-
an had noticed before. "She is"
And he stopped, and pointed with a
mute gesture at the Grape upon the
door.
Dead" was the l~ow-spoken answer.
"Yes, sir; last night"
He passed into the house without
another word. He had a right there
now. They would expect him. Dead!
Yes, he had known that hours ago:
and yet he had not taught himself
to believe 1t anything but a torturing
dream.
He stood in the mysterious dimness
before the marble presence at last.
The closed blinds shut out all light,
it seemed, and the soft gloom was
deaths shadow. There vas only one
thing liz the room to this man, the
slender, black casket, wherein rested
in Deaths setting of ebony. The
pure cheek rested against the soft
~ rising pillow of satin; the bright
hair flowed softly yer it; fair flowers
lay in the fairer hands. He had no
right to weep. He had been so far
apart from her life, and he was so
far apart from her innocent, dead
body. He stood at the casket's side
and looked down in utter silence OF
agony. He had never hoped to wake
her to a realization Of his man.
love; but life's despair was not the
despair of death, the dumb pang OF
looking down upon her sweet dead
face. There was only for him this 81.
lence, and this last look. He passed
out Of the door and into the fast
d%arkening street. The dull room wait.
ed for him beyond, the dingy walls,
and the old torture Of the leaden
groove Of labor. And to this he went,
with his memory of the fair dead face,
in its setting Of gold: with the mem.
DRY of the words the sweet young
voice had uttered, and the echoes had
caught up, and carried into the vault.