The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1922-08-11
ASHES OF ROSES
BY MARGARET SWEENEY

g. 1922. by Mcclure Newspaper syndicate.
For almost an hour Judith Hamil-
ton had been sitting in her chair, her
lean fingers locked behind her head,
staring out at the swaying branches of
giant cedar upon the lawn. She had
been striving to concentrate her
thoughts, but something, some dis
quieting thing in the gathering dusk or
some vibration in the weird whine of
the March wind, had prevented her.
Behind her immobile face thought pic
lures flashed and faded-pictures that
passed the censorship of her minds
eye, and pictures that. failed to pass
and left her surging with resentment.
Soft footsteps sounded overhead,
then the squeak of a wheeled chair
1olting over a threshold, and she knew
that Miss Raymond, her foster moth
ers nurse, had begun to fix" her pa
tient for the night.
Every night it is the same" she re-
Elected, the same things will happen
ut the same time. In another hour
she will send Miss Raymond to sum-
mon me to her bedside and then she
will complain about the weather and
the food and Miss Raymond, and or
der me about as if l were still little
child
Judith Hamilton arose and switched
on the light. She glanced swiftly, ex-
pectantly, around the book-lined room,
and then, drawing the shades, she re-
sumed her seat and the fascinating
pictures again marshalled themselves
out of the mysterious stiffness of the
past and crowded back the thoughts
that struggled within her; and always
in the foreground of these pictures,
the center and soul of them, the face
and figure of John Hamilton stood out,
and the old love-light was in his blue
gray eyes and the old smile was upon
his brave young face.
Like shuttle to and fro passed the
pictures of what aid been: A lonely,
loveless childhood; then love and
laughter and roses. Then quiet we'd
ding and almost two years of sweet
content and happiness, and then-sud-
denly, for John Hamilton a night that
had no morning.
Tonight the past had cast its spell
about her, and the majestic mystery of
life and love and death burdened her
thoughts as she sat staring at quaint
rose jar upon her library table, In it
the petals of the first roses that John
Hamilton had sent had found resting
place, and all the roses that had fol-
lowed had been buried in the depths
of the old rose jar.
Lovingly she lifted the rose jar and
bowed her head above it, inhaling the
fragrance that fingered in it, and then
among the withered petals her half
closed eyes caught the CLEAN of some
thing white, and with fumbling fin
gers she drew 1t to the light. 1t was
sheet of writing paper covered with
her husbands handwriting. 1t was
dated March Il, 1919, just three days
before the night that had no morning.
She unfolded it and read:
"March u, 1919.
judith Dear-I have known for
some time that / am walking on quick
sand. Somehow, Judith, it is hard for
me to realize this, and l continue to
hope for the best, but, dearest, / am
preparing for the worst, and so today
have set my house in order as best
/ may. And now that that is done 1
find it hard, indeed, impossible, TO
bring sorrow to your heart by telling
YOU of this shadow that may come be-
tween us.
"We hear much today, Judith, from
men of learning about the world be-
yond. and some of them tell us that
the departed are in close touch with
their loved ones here. like to think
that is true, it makes the inevitable
seem to me little less terrible. and
so. dearest, if disembodied spirit or
mind have power (and it may have)
to return, then shall return to you
one year from tonight. And you shall
find this note in the old rose jar on the
evening of March 10, 1920, and you
shall know, dearest heart, that l am
near you, guiding and loving you.
MAY God bless you and give you
Strength 10 lace HE anu dlI Ils AioiS
with a brave heart.
Externally yours, JOHN.
In the quiet, rose-scented library Ju.
dith Hamilton, a-thrill with wonder
and love, crushed the precious letter
to her lips and bowed her head upon
her hands. After little while Miss
Raymond, her foster mothers nurse,
knocked lightly upon the library door.
and Judith Hamilton, her face alight
with love, followed her to the room
above.