Year: 1879




He went to Greenbrier. He found
the decent, tidy little brick house where
the Eatons lived. He was shown into
dark little parlor


1t was impossible not TO see that Tilly
was extremely agitated when she came
down to him. The hand she gave TO
John was like ice, and trembled at his
touch. He almost seated her, still hold
ing her hand, aud she looking up at him
with the old wistful look in her eyes.
John was touched. He always had liked
Tlly. And, poor little soul, how thin
she Eas Was it possible that she had
only exchanged one kind Of bondage for
anotherP


She went out to the front door with
him when he left, and he saw then in the
daylight how pale she had grown. The
little wild rose had lost its bloom. He
asked her to take O drive with him for
the sake of old times. You look as
though you needed the fresh air..


yes, 1 do not get out often; mother is
scaling.


On the evening Of his last day in
Greenbrier he made up his mind that he
would ask her to marry him. He had
very little doubt OF her answer, poor
foolish child; for his own part he fancied
he was in love with her. At all events,
he ought TO be in love with some one by
this time. lilly was almost the only
girl he had ever known well.


But fate interfered with his intention.
Mrs. Eaton was SO i'll that Tilly could
not be spared from her side for moro
than FIVE minutes. She ran down just
TO say goodbye. John resolved that he
would write instead. He told lilly he
would write. And take care Of your
self, he added. She did not cry this
time. Persons who take an extreme
view Of human maladieS would perhaps
have said that she looked simply bro
ken hearted.


When John did write il was different
sort of letter from the one he had plan.
ned. On his return to camp he was
confronted by crisis in his life. A gay
party from Washington came down to
dance and firt in the tented field in lieu
of the conventional ballroom. OF its
number was Maud Gale, who, ii exper-
ience goes for anything, should have
been an adept in both dancing and fiirt-
ing. A society girl par crcegIence, but
tho first ~ the type who had crossed
John Isonard's psth. She had cultivat-
ed fascination to the full extent OF her
powers, and John fell an easy victim TO
her practiced wiIes. He was bewitched.
What if her hair we're blondined, and
her skin were whitened and Redeemed,
and her eyebrows darkened? John was
as innocent as babe about these mat
ters. To him Maud was radiant in all
the fresh beauty Of young womanhood.
TillyP She faded IN his thought by con-
trast into such q mere dull little girl.
Still bewitched, he became engaged to
Maud.


He was still madly infatuated, how
ever, when his regiment was ordered in
TO battle-a battle which ended in victory
for his side, but which left him in
condition however between life and
death. He was desperately wounded;
and-poor fellow!--and when they first
told him that the amputation Of his right
arm was unavoidable, it seemed to him
that he would rather die outright. A
crippled maimedl He thought Of Maud
and her strong, bright beauty with q
sickening sensation of unftness.


Helay at deaths door for weeks. Part
of the time he was too i'll to recognize
any one. Only the tenderest nursing,
the most assiduous care, saved him.
And when he finally opened his eyes to
consciousness, upon what assiduous and
tender nurse do you suppose they restedP


II was incredible. Upon whom but
gentle, care-worn, gazelle-eyed little
TillyI How on earth began John,
then dropped off to sleep again.


Tt had been almost year now since
he had seen this dewy woodland rose.
He had only written her one letter menn-
while, but that letter had been her
hearts sustenance ever since. She had
laid it away among certain other men,
cries OF hers--memories which retained
their sweetness like withered sprigs Of
lavender. AS the months sped by she
made up her mind that she would never
see John again--that he had forgotten
her. This was her presentiment. But
she did not blame John because he had
not proved all that she had once hoped
he would; that had been her mistake,
but mistake which had been also her
one Joy and romance. She called him
her good angel. In the dear Hebrew
phrase, he had come to her-as in truth
every good friend comes to ug--as an
angel of God.


During this weary while her mother
died. lilly found herself without q tie
in lie. She might come and go as she
pleased. There was distinct desire III
her loving heart to do the one work for
an unemployed woman just then. But
it was some little time before she gath
cred courage to carry out her wish to
become hospital nurse. The alarming
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