The Chesterfield advertiser. [volume] (Chesterfield C.H., S.C.) 1884-1978, 1915-11-11

dition, where. disinembered souls col.
lect, awaiting their summons either
to heaven or toto some of many 9TH
er possible destinations. Tom.
Then, as / stood there, I seemed
to realize that Jim was with me. He
was very much astonished at finding
me there.
Why, Polly he said, don't you
know that you are not to pass over
for nearly year more|
Il was SO terrified 1 did not know
what to do or how to answer him.
Eyes, Polly he said, your time on
earth will be up year from next
week Unless
And here his voice became so
vague and indistinct that 1 could un-
derstand nothing. When 1 heard him
again, he was telling me how he died.
wanted you ever since l knew
you, Polly. dear he said. And am
going to have you for my very own,
through ali eternity
THAT will never happen, Jim,' 1
answered.
"'Oh, yes, 1t WILL he said, and,
more than that, you will be glad. Re
member, year from next week."
Tom Raymond frowned impatiently.
OF course, it may have been some
sort Of inner perception that Jim was
dying" he answered. II have no
doubt such things are possible. But
in dreams they become blurred and
distorted, and one must never rely
on such nonsense. Lose you in a
years time, indeed! I'd like to see
myself"
He kissed away the tears that were
falling freely. But after he had gone
Polly remained for a long time think
ing Of the boy who had died in such
lonely fashion upon the mountains.
III.
The house was strangely silent.
Upstairs there was no sound at all; ;
downstairs only that Of the man who
tramped slowly backward and for
ward in his library.
Mercifully he had forgotten his
wife's prediction. He was conscious
only of that agony of soul that comes
when ones dearest is wrestling with
death.
The doctor came into the room, and
Tom Raymond spun round and faced
him.
Tell me the truth" he cried. us
there any hope?"
yes said the doctor, frankly.
There is hope. But 1t is very faint
one. You must be prepared for the
worst, MIR. Raymond, and 1 cannot
delude you with any false anticipa-
tions. Your wife is dangerously ILL.,.
She is at present sleeping. 1t all de-
pends on the first rest"
And the child?"
"A splendid girl. She is doing fine
ly. / have seldom seen a child so
healthy at birth"
Tom Raymond groaned. At that
moment he felt utterly Indifferent to
his child. If only Polly lived! She
must live, for his sake
The doctor took pity on the hag-
gard man.
Il don't think there is any reason
why you should not sit by her bed
side, If you go up very softly" he
said.
Raymond ascended the stairs and
entered his wifes room on tiptoe. The
nurse rose from the bedside and laid
her finger on her lips. Raymond
crept to the chair which she had va
Gated and sat down.
Polly was sleeping, but it was more
correct to say that she was uncon-
scious. She was barely alive, and
her breast hardly stirred under her
light breathing. Her face was ashen,
her lips as pale as her checks.
Sometimes her husband was afraid
that she had ceased to breathe The
hours went by. He still sat at her
side. Midnight sounded. He did not
move. With all his power he was will
ing that Polly should live. And SO
the night passed, and gradually the
light of dawn began to penetrate the
room.
Suddenly the nurse started and
stepped to the sick woman's side.
Her trained ear had detected the lit
tie sound Of awakening. Next mo-
ment Polly was conscious, and her
eyes were fixed on Toms.
Il am going to get well, Tom, DEAR"
And Tom could read that in the
tinge Of color that had come back to
her checks.
The nurse, obedient to the sick
woman's unvoiced wish, stepped to
the cradle and brought out the baby.
Isn't she q dear, Toni" murmured
Polly. And she has the dearest little
birth-mark. Show him her shoulder,
nurse"
There was a faint stain, extending
from the base OF the neck an inch or
two in the direction of the right shoul.
der.
,nyo