A SISTER'S SACRIFICE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3359, 14 January 1879, Page 4

A SISTER'S SACRIFICE.

(By "May.") (Concluded.) Lucy with a dust-brush in hand, was making a feint of dusting the many pretty articles of vertu which, decorated tho room. How the canary sang ! what a mockory it all acuwed ! I stood for a moment on the threshold— ah, look well ! God knows whon you will ace all bo content again. Years aftorward tha chirping of a canary fell on my In-art like a death inell, bringing with it a aliening realisation of that dreadful day. I caujjlit a glimpse of my own face in tho glass hi [ entered; always palo, to-day I was ashy. " Mv mle, are you not well?" waa my yr..-eUng. Diuuing Ijor to the sofa with the tiny, fluttering hand clasped in mino, I told her all all, as gontlv as I could. Slowly, a3 l pruvtvied the happy light died out of jfto.c lov-ty eyea ; and, when I had fiuulied, ,

the face that looked into mine was pallid and rigid. . ■. . _ ■ "My darling," I cried, " don't look so ; all will yet be well. You and I will go away for a unie ; Howard will forget tliis infatuation, and all will be right." Still she never moved, her eyes seemed set, her lips moved nervously. Suddenly her form relaxed, and with a stifled moan, she fell fainting into my arms. Had I killed her? No, for presently her eyes opened wonderingly; then, realising all, she burst into a torrent of tears. Nature's soothing balm, I thought, and made no effort to conbolo her. " Yes, Minnie," she sobbed, finally, "we will go away. As heaven hears me, I never dreamed this. Oh, my darling sister, how 1 havo wronged you." But we did not go away. Night came, and brought with it a strange, unnatural Hush to our darling's cheek ; and the next morning found her tossing wildly from side to side in her bed, with anxious watchers bending over her. Day dragged slowly after day, and she lay hovering between life and death, now lyingjso still that we felt the tiny wrist in alarm for fear life had already left its fragile casket; then, tossing in wild delirium, calling in frenzied tones the name of Howard Clinton, and motioning me to be silent and to keep her secret. And Edith, calm nnd immovable, stood by the couch. Little by little, as the incoherent words fell from Lucy's lips, the rich colour left her cheeks. Alas ! the blow I had seen pending for so long had finally fallen, bringing with it a realization too deep and too terrible for human sympathy. And Howard, what of him ? With face almost as pallid as the one lying on the pillow, he wandered aimlessly from room to room with anxiety amounting almost to despair in its intensity written in every feature. Oh, how the hours, the days dragged, and how small wa3 the satisfaction we anxious nurses gleaned from the old family physician ! "On the crisis all depends," he told us. One night Edith and I were seated quietly before the fire. The room was lighted onl by its glare, which seemed to throw an almost superhuman light around us. We were not speaking, for Lucy slept, and on this awakening we knew everything depended. Suddenly Edith nervously grasped my arm. " Minnie, did you not hear her move ?" I listened attentively, and finally detected, or fancied I did, a sort of low, gasping sigh. "Qo to her, Minnie, O God, I cannot ! " and this girl, who, with Sjmrtan-likc firmness, hud watched days and sleepless nights, now in this supreme moment became helpless and trembled like an aspen-leaf. Softly I bent over the bed ; her breath seemed to flutter rather than come naturally through the slightly-parted lips, and while I watched her eyes opened slowly and were raised wonderingly to mine. I almost staggered under the sudden burst of joy. For the first time in many long weeks the eyes that met mine were perfectly clear, the wild glare of fever had burned itself out. I lifted the tiny, wasted hand that lay on the coverlet ; jes, thnnk God, it was covered with a cool healthy perspiration. " She will live," I whispered almost involuntarily. Faint as were my words, the crouching figure waited in suspense by the fireside near thorn. In a moment, with tottering stop, Edith was by my side. In the excess of her joy she would have cast herself over the prostrate figure. " Calm yourself," I pleaded, holding her firmly with my arm. As I spoko, Lucy's eye 3 sought both our faces, and, like the faint rustling of forest leaves swayed by the gentle summer breeze, trembled the one word, " Howard " from her lips. It was breathed so softly, so tenderly, that it seemed to issue from the very depths of hor poor suffering little heart. I felt the shudder that passed through Edith's frame, as with an involuntary start she seemed to recoil from the still form before her. Then her noble nature conquered ; and, bending low, Bhe whispered soothingly — "Little sister, you shall see Howard tomorrow." Early tho next morning, before the servants wore astir, I betook myself out to enjoy an hour in tho garden before I should be required in tho sick-room. It was one of those exquisite mornings of early spring when budding nature and the sweet air made us thank God wo were born. I lmd not gone far when I saw two figures coming toward me, and was not long in distinguishing Howard and Edith. I retraced my steps when they called me to wait for them. What had passed between them I never knew — it was far too sacred for othors to know. They were both deathly pale, but beneath Howard's pallid exterior I perceived that his anxious expression had, in a measure, given place to one calmer and more contented. From the moment when Howard first ontered Lucy's room, when the love light in his eyes shed a new radiance into her own, Lucy began to improve so rapidly that, before many weeks had passed, she was led out on the shady porch, and would lie for hours drinding in the balmy air. Very beautiful she looked thon ; her illness seemed to have etherealised her, to have added to her already spirituello countenance, an expression pertaining more to heaven than to earth. I watched her one morning as she lay thus, clad in a filmy lace robo that became her so well. Edith had been reading to her while I was engaged in doing some sewing. Suddenly Lucy leaned forwurd, and, taking tho book from her sister's hand, she slipped her own little trembling palm into it. Then raising her limpid blue eyes swimming with tears, while her pale lips trembled painfully, she half sobbed — "Sister, I must speak to you; I can bear this no longer." I rose to go, but she detained me with a slight gesture. " Stay, Minnie, you who love us so dearly must know all. Omy sister!" and before Edith could prevent her, the slender figure had slid quietly from the couch and was half kneeling at her feet, in an agony of sorrow and remorse. " Lucy, my darling, you will injure yourself :" and, lifting her into her strong arms, Edith spoke to her calmly, dispassionately. No outward trembling was visible ; the mobile mouth never even faltered as she told her how Howard loved her, and how willingly, how thankfully she gave him to her. " My darling," sobbed the girl, " I cannot, will not accept this sacrifice. Oh, forgive me! I will go away, and you will be happy." " Listen, Lucy," Edith's grasp became almost convulsive ; " this is to me no sacrifice. You have saved me. You have helped us to discover now what we should have learned later when it would have been too late." Slowly Lucy's golden head sank on that noble heart, her breathing became more regular, and after a little while Edith, glaucing towards me with a half patient, half weary smile, signified the troubled little heart had sobbed itsejf to sleep. Some few months later it was a small but contented little party that assembled around the old chancel, and there was not a dry eye in the little church, when the fair bride, refcurdlcfM of form, regardless of the dainty luco so easily crushed, threw herself once more into tho loving arms of the calm-look-ing woman at her side. And when the groom bent low and whispered "my sister," that fame calm, stately figure raised a loving face and responded fervently, " Howard, my dear brother."