Ednas Sacrifice and Other Stories | Page 2

as this, eighteen years ago, dear child, my fate was
decided. The daughter of my mother's dearest friend had been with us
about a year. Dearly we all loved the gentle child, for scarcely more
than child she was--only sixteen. My mother had taken her from the
cold, lifeless form of her mother into her own warm, loving heart, and
she became to me as a sister. So fair and frail she was! We all watched
her with the tenderest care, guarding her from all that could chill her
sensitive nature or wound the already saddened heart. Lilly was her
name. Oh, what a delicate white lily she was when we first brought her
to our home; but after a while she was won from her sorrow, and grew
into a maiden of great beauty. Still, with child-like, winning ways.
"Great wells of love were in her blue eyes--violet hue he called them.
Often I wondered if any one's gaze would linger on my dark eyes when
hers were near? Her pale golden hair was pushed off her broad
forehead and fell in heavy waves far down below her graceful
shoulders and over her black dress. Small delicately-formed features, a
complexion so fair and clear that it seemed transparent. In her blue eyes
there was always such a sad, wistful look; this, and the gentle smile that
ever hovered about her lips, gave an expression of mingled sweetness

and sorrow that was very touching. You may imagine now how
beautiful she was.
"Her mother had passed from earth during the absence of Lilly's father.
Across the ocean the sorrowful tidings were born to him. He was a
naval officer. Lilly was counting the days ere she should see him. The
good news had come, that soon he would be with her. At last the day
arrived, but oh! what a terrible sorrow it brought. When her heart was
almost bursting with joy, expecting every moment to be clasped in
those dear arms--a telegraphic despatch was handed in. Eagerly she
caught it, tore it open, read--and fell lifeless to the floor.
"Oh! the fearful, crushing words. We read, not of his coming to Lilly,
but of his going to her, his wife, in heaven. Yes, truly an orphan the
poor girl was then.
"In vain proved all efforts to restore her to consciousness. Several times,
when she had before fainted, mother was the only physician needed.
But that night she shook her head and said:
"'We must have a doctor, and quickly.'
"It was a terrible night. Our doctor was very remote. Your father
suggested another, near by.
"Dr.----, well, never mind his name. Your father said he had lately
known him, and liked him much.
"Through the storm he came, and by his skilful treatment Lilly was
soon restored to consciousness, but not to health. A low nervous fever
set in, and many days we watched with fearful hearts. Ah! during those
days I learned to look too eagerly for the doctor's coming. Indeed, he
made his way into the hearts of all in our home. After the dreaded crisis
had passed, and we knew that Lilly would be spared to us, the doctor
told mother he should have to prescribe for me. I had grown pale, from
confinement in the sick-room, and he must take me for a drive, that the
fresh air should bring the roses back to my cheeks. Willingly mother
consented. After that I often went. When Lilly was able to come
down-stairs, this greatest pleasure of my life then was divided with her.
One afternoon I stood on the porch with her, waiting while the doctor
arranged something about the harness.
"'Oh! how I wish it was my time to go!' she whispered.
"'Well, darling, it shall be your time. I can go to-morrow. Run, get your
hat and wraps,' I said, really glad to give any additional pleasure to this

child of many sorrows.
"'No, no, that would not be fair. And, Edna, don't you know that
_to-morrow_ I would be so sorry if I went to-day? I do not mean to be
selfish, but, oh, indeed I cannot help it! I am wishing every time to go.
Not that I care for a ride--' She hesitated, flushed, and whispered: 'I like
to be with my doctor. Don't you, Edna? Oh! I wish he was my father, or
brother, or cousin--just to be with us all the time, you know.'
"Just then the doctor came for me, and I had to leave her. As we drove
off I looked back and kissed my hand to her, saying:
"'Dear little thing! I wish she was going with us.'
"'I do not,' the doctor surprised me by saying.
"I raised my eyes inquiringly to his. In those beautiful,