The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1875-10-29


and we were silent for awhile and the
room grew dark in the twilight.
"Shirley," she said, softly, at last,
"would you let my father help you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Mamma asked me a month ago if
you would leave New Orleans and take
a position in my uncle's house in New
York. never told you, because-she
wanted me to come home then, Shirley,
and let you go alone, and | couldn't"
eco home!" | gathered her closer
the baby in her arms, too. "Child,
has it come to that?"
"No," she whispered softly. at
never will. I'll 90 with you there, or
anywhere else on earth, Shirley"
ais it too late to take the offer
now?" asked, starting up. "Why do
you ask if I'll let him help me, Edna?
Better that than taking his aims, God
knows, and I've done that so long.
Child, I'd almost beg at the street cor
ners for you, if that was ALI"
evil you go and see papa?" she
cried, lighting up all over her wasted
little face. 81 don't know about it,
only that mamma said there might be
an opening for you, and it would be
much better than your old place, and
papa would use his influence for you.
VIII vp, rn Cb;,1,,0'S
eyes, | Will" | said, STOPPING down
to kiss her.
Something was dragging me back all
the while-holding me fast to the bed
side, within touch of her little hot hand
and hearing of my baby's Slecpy-soft
breath-but | did not heed it. | wa
desperate, and her eyes drove me out
into the world, to struggle with it, and
win for her sake-and | went.
SO the end of it was that letters went
back and forth, and in two weeks from
the day that | was discharged from my
clerkship, was engaged by the New
York house, of which Mr.. Nerdcry's
brother was head, at a salary that would
keep Edna safe all the winter far enough
out of the reach of want or the need Of
aims. Only-it was Il desperate mans
resources, You know-she must be in
New Orleans while | was in New York.
a winter at the North, they said,
would kill her, and | must not dream of
taking her away until she was thorough
" we'll again.
This was the way it happened. They
We're so glad to take her back; they had
'~'fOrgiven' her SO entirely and wanted
her so, and that they We're 50 fond of
little Shirley, | ought to have been will
ling and glad to leave them both in
such tender care. | was neither; but |
knew it wa my duty to give her up and
| did it. kissed her good-by ut the
last and dragged myself away from her
arms, that tried to hold me back even
then, and the last glimpse | had of wife
OF child was a little, slender figure at
IN open window, half buried in white,
soft wrappings, holding up a baby, who
laughed and sprang in her arms, and
whose little hand she tried to wave to
me.
Then came the lonely winter at the
NOrth-the silent starvation of my heart
through nights and days, the longing
Impotence, hope. 1t only lasted a little
while. | knew should have her in the
spring, in a home of our own that | had
planned already.
1t was in March when her letters.
which had come faithfully all winter on
their stated days, failed suddenly. A
week went by without a message from
New Orleans; and when it came at last
it was written in another hand.
1t was Il long letter, but | never read
it through. | only read three lines.
That told me that she was dead, that
my baby was buried in her arms. The
yellow fever had broken out in the city
and my two were %amongthe first to 90:
her parents had left New Orleans, and
before their letter reached me would
have sailed for England.
never saw the little, white wrapped
figure and the laughing baby any more.
L never saw either of their parents
again.
1t was better for us all, Mr.. Verdery
had said, that the intercourse should
cease with Edna's and the child's death:
and God knows | felt so, too.
So lived on in New York alone, and
rose in the firm, travelled, and made
money; and wandered from city to city