Ednas Sacrifice and Other Stories | Page 4

I should lose him, I would
not wish to live. I could not live. He loves me a little, does he not,
Edna?'
"I could not reply. Just then there was a terrible struggle going on in my
heart. That must be ended, the victory won ere I could speak. She
waited for my answer and then said, eagerly:
"'Oh, speak, _do!_ What are you thinking about?'
"Pressing back the sigh--back and far down into the poor heart--I gave
her the sweet, and kept the bitter part, when I could answer.
"'Yes, dear, I do think he loves you a little now, and will, by-and-by,
love you dearly. God grant he may!'
"'Oh, you darling Edna! You have made me so happy!' she cried,
kissing me; and still caressing me she fell asleep.
"Next morning I enclosed the ring, with only these words:
"'Forgive if I cause you sorrow, and believe me your true friend. I
return the ring that I am not free to accept.'
"I intended that my reply should mislead him, when I wrote that I was
not free, and thus to crush any hope that might linger in his heart.
While at breakfast that morning, we received a telegram that grandma
was extremely ill, and wanted me. Thus, fate seemed to forward my
plans. I had thought to go away for a while, I told mother all. How her
dear heart ached for me! Yet she dared not say aught against my
decision. She took charge of the note for the doctor, and by noon I was
on my journey. Two years passed ere I returned home. Mother wrote
me but little news of either Lilly or her doctor after the first letter,
telling that my note was a severe shock and great disappointment.
Three or four months elapsed before grandma was strong enough for

me to leave her. An opportunity at that time presented for my going to
Europe. I wanted such an entire change, and gladly accepted.
Frequently came letters from Lilly. For many months they were filled
with doubts and anxiety; but after a while came happier and shorter
ones. Ah, she had only time to be with him, and to think in his absence
of his coming again.
"When I was beginning to tire of all the wonders and grandeur of the
old world, and nothing would still the longing for home, the tidings
came they were married, Lilly and her doctor, and gone to his Western
home to take charge of the patients of his uncle, who had retired from
practice. Then I hastened back, and ever since, dear girls, I have been
contented, finding much happiness in trying to contribute to that of
those so dear. Now, little Edna, you have my only love-story, its
beginning and ending."
"But, aunty, do tell me his name," I said. "Indeed, it is not merely idle
curiosity. I just feel as if I must know it--that it is for something very
important. Now you need not smile. I'm very earnest, and I shall not
sleep until I know. I really felt a presentiment that if I knew his name it
might in some way effect the conclusion of the story."
"Well, my child, I may as well tell you. Dr. Graham it was--Percy
Graham," Aunt Edna answered, low.
"Ah! did I not tell you? It was not curiosity. Listen, aunty mine. While
you were away last winter, papa received a paper from St. Louis; he
handed it to me, pointing to an announcement. But I will run get it. He
told me to show it to you, and I forgot. I did not dream of all this."
From my scrap-book I brought the slip, and Aunt Edna read:
"DIED.--Suddenly, of heart disease, on the morning of the 15th, Lilly,
wife of Doctor Percy Graham, in the 34th year of her age."
Aunt Edna remained holding the paper, without speaking, for some
minutes; then, handing it back to me, she said, softly, as if talking to
her friend:
"Dear Lilly! Thank heaven, I gave to you the best I had to give, and
caused you nought but happiness. God is merciful! Had he been taken,
and you left, how could we have comforted you?" And then, turning to
me, she said: "Nearly a year it is since Lilly went to heaven. 'Tis
strange I have not heard of this."
"'Tis strange from him you have not heard," I thought; "and stranger

still 'twill be if he comes not when the year is over. For surely he must
know that you are free--" But I kept my thoughts, and soon after kissed
aunty good-night.
One month passed, and the year was out. And somebody was in our
parlor, making arrangements to carry away Aunt Edna. I knew