The Nevada County picayune., 1907-09-26
THE BUREAU DRAWER
 By Wilmot Waring

plucking restleSsly at the patchwork counterpane which she had pieced to- gether herself in the days of her busy housewifery, and a strange, almost mystical silence seemed to have set tied over the New England farm-the silence of death.
 Martha was dying. The big, bust ling woman had come to the end of her days work, and she was aware of it-just as her youngest daughter was, pretty, delicate Almira Earle, who sat by her mothers bedside flaming the dying woman with big palm-leaf fan, for the heat of the heavy August after noon was excessive.
 "Almira, I'm dying-ain't I?"
 Martha Earle broke the dull silence of the past hour, and raised herself heavily on her pillows; but her voice was no longer hard and autocratic, and she seemed to speak from dis tance
 "Mother-my dear, dear mother!"
 That was all that Almira could an- swer, but her tears betrayed her. "Almora, don't cry It's all right" Martha smiled faintly. Listen, honey, there's something yer have got to do for me when I'm dead-something ia ther and none of the others are to know about. I guess I can trust yer?'
 Surely, mother" the girl replied, softly; then she bent over the other woman, and propped Martha up in her soft, warm arms.
 When the breath is out of my body" Martha continued, take the little key that yerll find in my purse, an open the drawer I allers keep locked in my bureau, the small top drawer"-she gave a low, anxious sigh "Yerll mind which drawer-the small top. one"
 "Yes, mother" the girl answered obediently. "The drawer that alters kept locked" she added. "Inside"-Martha' voice dropped to | a low whisper-"yer'l find packet of letters, an few sprigs of lavender a handful of withered rose-petals Yer'll burn the letters in the kitchen l fire - burn them to ash, Almira - | trust yer not to read so much as a word of them. But the dried rose petals an the lavender-put them in my coffin, ghosts of dead flowers, Al mira-all that's left of lost summer Her voice died into silence. What does it mean" whispered 1 the girl. Mother dear, I'll give yer my oath that I'll do what yer ask, an not read one word of yer letters-but
 who wrote them?"
 That's no matter" replied Martha. Some one who loved me, honey, be- fore ever your father did. young man who went to New York to make a fortune for me, an who came back
 too late, for l guess l couldn't wait | for Gillian for ever. Besides, there
 was yer father an his fine farm, an
 my folk all pressing me to marry" Didn't yer love father?" Almira
 spoke in sharp. strained tones.
 Her mother kept sullen silence for few moments, then she said,
 with sudden burst of newborn
 strength:
 "I made him good wife. l guess
 no one can say hev' not been a good wife or a good mother. l hev' worked
 fer yer father-baked an brewed- | scrubbed an sewn. l hev' borne him
 sons and daughters, an in my way l
 hev' loved him"
 Not as yer loved the other Al
 mira lowered her voice. "Oh, mother, mother" she went on, 1 understand
 Il know-I, alone of all yer children" | Like enow," the dying woman an-
 swered Her voice had softened T
 hev' often thought" she went on dreamily, that yer had queer look
 of him. honey. Yer smile as he used
 ter smile. Almira, an yer eyes are the same deep blue. But there
 there" she sighed impatiently, its
 all finished an ended, for l put Gillian | out of my mind and out of my heart
 after yer father had given me my we'd ding-ring. But l kept his letters l kept them in a locked drawer. Seem
 ed as if I hadn't the heart to burn
 them. nor the withered flowers that | Gillian had plucked me-roses warm
 an red when he gave them to me
 sweet smelling an fresh.
 A clock on the mantelpiece struck
 the hour of five. Outside, across the | fields. came the faint lowing of cattle; | the golden day was wearing to it's close.
 Put me down again on my pillow" commanded Martha.
 A rigid sternness came over the face. She was bracing herself to face the Valley of Great Silence and the | stream which is cold as ice. 'Ill fetch father" murmured Almira softly. Then she bent and kissed Martha Earle with rare passion. Oh mother mother" she whispered, ''an | never guessed"
 Martha Earle took no notice of her | daughters speech. She had done with all earthly matters, her concern with | this worlds affairs was over.  | Ii was late-close on mdnight-be-