The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-10-26
Continued from Page Sd
WHILE THE FEVER BURNED.


ly amid the pillows of the old-fashion-
ed four-poster bed that occupied most
of the space, and indeed was almost
the sole article of furniture, save a
mahogany glass-case from which
peeped forth a few china cups and
saucers and plates of different pat
terms.
The glass-case was the widows
pride 1t was an heirloom in the
family; real Spanish mahogany, black
with age, and it was Mrs. McManus's
delight to polish it daily, until you
could see yourself in it; just as her
mother had done before her, and her
mothers mother. In fact the history
of the glass-case was lost in time, so
ancient was it. What tales it could
have told if it only had speech! How
many people had drank tea out of the
china cups, people that were now far
away, some in distant lands, some ~
ing in Gods acre; all scattered except
few who, like Widow McManus, still
chung to their humble homes in the
little village at the foot of Sieve
Donard. How well it remembered the
day when Widow McManus was born,
sixty years before-why, it just
seemed like yesterday-and the tiny
babe had grown from childhood to
womanhood, and from hence to mid
die age, and from middle age, alas
to old age. No change on the old
cabinet save little added blackness,
but oh! the change on the human
cabinet-the cracks and seams were
innumerable; scarcely trace of the
freshness of youth, only the spiritual
beauty of the dark eyes remained,
that told of a well-spent life, and
constant communion with higher
sphere. The eyes of the old tell a
tale that cannot be gainsaid. The
young can hide the thoughts of youth,
but as the years advance each addi-
tional thought imprints itself indelib-
ly, for good or evil; then, when old
age creeps on, angelic is the face where
the good predominates. The features
may be plain, harsh, almost forbid
ding, but the highest form of beauty
is there-the beauty of the spirit.
Human grossness bows down before
it, instinctively recognising that it is
of Heaven heavenly.
"How are you feeling today, Mrs.
McManus? Why, we'll soon be hav-
ing you up, you are looking so we'll. .
Mrs. McManus gazed at her with
unseeing eyes. Winnie" she spoke
rapidly, "get me my cloak and bon
net I promised to bring the childer
some sweets. Ye might make me a
mouthful of tay My head feels so
quare; yer mother will be here
soon"
"Aunt, you are not well enough to
rise," cried poor Winnie in alarm.
Get me my cloak reiterated the
old woman fiercely. "Its my we'd
ding day Seumas will be waiting in
the church. Look! tits lovely morn
ing! Do you hear the birds singing
and the strame running down the
mountain side is like sunlight woven
by the fairies. Och, but it is good to
look at it. Seumas will come down
that path an he'll gather me the purti-
est bunch of violets from the moss
under the hedge. Blue as your eyes,
Maureen. She sang the words in an
odd cracked voice that quavered
through the stiffness of the quiet
room with weird effect. Och, but my
Seumas is strong and straight-limbed.
A pennyworth of sweets, did We say,
alanna! Dear-a-dear, but the childer
love the sugar. There is one for yer
SELF" and she stretched out an i'm
aginary sweet into empty space. g.
Mrs. Fogarty, do you think she
is worse?" whispered Winnie fear
fully.
"Not at all, child; don't worry yer
self; it's the faver in her head. Shure
my mother, God rest her, was TUX
much the same way after she heard
the news Jennie was drowned, and
she lived to be over ninety. Hush
aroon; try to Sleep" And Mrs. Fogar.
ty held the fevered, restless hands OF
the sick woman. The magnetism OF
her cold, firm clasp seemed to soothe
the sufferer. By degrees her move.
ments became less violent, the heavy
lids dropped over the tired eyes al
irregular intervals, then, gradually
prefaced by vacant stare, sank OF
the worn white cheeks furrowed by
streams of thought, and lay at rest.
Thank God!" said Mrs. Fogarty
piously, "she will do now. Sleep is
the best medicine; it's better than
all the doctors in the world Run and
take mouthful of air; I'll watch hel
until she wakes. You are as white as
sheet.
With the speed of a lopwing Win
ME took advantage of Mrs. Fogarty's
kindness to fulfill her project for hel
aunt's succor With feverish haste
she donned her red cloak, putting the
hood over her curly head, vertiable
RED Riding hood;" and not daring tc
give herself time to think, she spec
up the mountain-side towards the
castle; yet the awful thought would
obtrude itself: What if her mission
: should fail? Her aunt would die, she
felt thoroughly convinced of that, ant
the child's brave heart sank like LEAD
and the tears blinded her blue eyes
whilst a strangling sensation seized
her throat that made her feel yer.
helpless. She sat down on falle1
oak to recover herself. Around he
| was a world of heather, overhead /:
cloudIess sky, and the birds singing
loudly. A robin perched himself bold
ly beside her as if comparing the rela
tive merits of the red hood and tn
soft feathers of his own little coat