The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1916-03-18
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some corner on the floor, wrapped him
In blankets, dosed him with quinine,
tempted him with poor, weak brotha
and nursed him, unprotesting, through
the night.
McDougal had followed Alan into
strange lands and strange places and
seen him in many q deep hole, and
through it all Alan had been the same
"a purring dynamo at work. He had
been the same until this trip into the
Brazilian wilderness, and here q
change had come over him. There were
times when he talked and what he said
was, mo more trips for me. McDougal.
I'm consulting engineer from this
on" McDougal had heard more than
one man talk like that under fever and
he frowned, trying to remember one Of
them that had ever come back.
Alan was Injured to river fever. he
had fought it often, and when he saw
the fetid pools Of stagnant water in
the dried-up watercourse he knew he
would have to fight 1t again. Some.
how, some night a mosquito waa
bound to get at him, and the fever
would begin. He doubled his proven.
tive dose Of quinine, but he could not
double his spirits for the battle. he
came to the field with a gnawing at
those sources Of health. q calm mind
and sure sleep. Sleep did not come
as Of old after the days work. In.
c%no6 ho %oocod onA <x,a.<o1 -, III.
narrow cot and finally would turn on
the electric torch to read two letters
over and over again.
One he read with a curl of the HIP.
1t was from a pretty woman that had
duttered into his life and out. He had
forgotten her and now she had come
back to buzz words IN bis buzzing ears.
She said, 1T costs a woman to learn
that happiness is not really tangible.
Between being fortunate and happy q
gulf is fixed. was fortunate-just
not miserable-and stood on the brink
Of the gulf. Happiness brushed me
with it's wings. reached out to
catch 1t and the gulf took me. How
long will it be before climb back
to the height that seemed not 30 very
high when possessed It? I don't
know do not hate you-only
myself. You have known many wom-
en-, but you have not known me. That
is the bitter part. You do not know
what gave you. One thing I ask you
and the words as I write are blurred
with tears like my eyes-lf ever q
foolish woman, honest and true as I
was. offers you the same sacrifice, do
not take it. have suffered for all the
women you will meet"
"Fool," said Alan to himself, STOOL.
not to see that l turned her wish
washy weakness into strength and
loosed dumb tongue"
And then he drew out the other let
ter and the curl in his lip Strengthened
out to line Of sweetness and the
light in his eyes turned to fiery, blind
alteration. The letter had been sent
to him. sealed. BY ]. T. who had &C
companied It with a note. The letter
began. ITO my boy at Thirty" and
signed. with undying lore, your
friend and Mother In life he could
not remember his mother. but be saw
her now in three pages Of laboring
words traced by dying hand. In her
self. dying at thirty, she had seen her
boy revealed. She had had no
strength-no time-left for slow ap-
proaches. With the first words Of her
letter Rhe laid n rnol:ng hand on his
burning soul. She spoke the all-seeing
wisdom Of death. She held him close
to her heart and fed him with her life's
blood. All that she had been, all that
she had learned. all that she foresaw ;,
was crowded into those three pages.
They were brittle with age, the ink
yellow and faded in words that no
eyes but his and hers had ever seen.