The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1876-10-05

trial IN store Tor nor. AT laSbl OTuefed
the servants to pack up. our belongings,
and f hurried away with my bride to
one of the suburbs of London, where
she might have the most skillful physi-
clans to attend her. Twill spare you
the record of the long weeks during
which | had no other care in life than
to watch over, wait upon, and care for
the frail form of a woman whose heart
had long since passed out of my keep
ing, il had ever possessed it. For what
I fnistook for disease was nothing more
than the longing of the Zingari blood
for the freedom of its native forests.
Like bird in cage, I was killing her
by my very care for her. / can not tell
you how well loved her; still less
could I give you an idea of the rapture
of thanksgiving that possessed my soul
on the nig ght that they put her baby in
my arms, and told me her life was
safe. Yet mindful of my duties as a
host, quickly surrendered the
infantile wonder, and fastened
to accompany the weary physician to
the door of our house. I fingered a
moment, watching him as he passed
the gate, when suddenly there darted
from among the trees the same figure
that had grown so familiar in the Scot
tish Highlands. The moonlight fell on
the handsome face, and showed the
same anxious expression my own had
worn during the past weeks. The man
seized the doctor by the arm, apparent
ly asked some eager question, to which.
he received an affirmative answer, and
then disappeared
ST never saw him but once more.
A month. .later-I had nursed my darling
back to when, coming back
from a short journey to London, / saw
a carriage driving rapidly away from
my gate. There were only two occu-
pants-my wife and her gypsy lover.
Instinctively rushed toward them and
seized the horses by the bride. Then
a sudden flash, followed by report,
and the bullet intended for my heart
buried itself in my lungs.
81 can not tell you what followed.
All know is that when saw my child
| again it was over three months old.
After that went mad. They tell me
that I wandered about from place to
place all over Europe, while people
wondered at the silent man, ever in
motion, and always accompanied by a
nurse and an infant child. At last q
circumstance reused me. The news
came that the executors of my fathers
| will had contrived to lose my fortune,
and I was poor. Then we came to New
York-my little Zillah, whom named
after my mother, and I. Here we have
lived, Dalton here have dragged out
the miserable existence of an invalid ;
here have brought up my child from
infancy to womanhood, until she has
become to me something Of what her
mother might have been; here we have
been together through better, through
worse, and much of it has been worse.
Now you propose to take her from me,
knowing that she is all have in the
world-that whatever she may be to
you, can not live without her. It is
an awkward thing to wind all ones
heart about q woman, be she wife OF
child. I have done it, and mine is a
claim no man should dispute. Will
you withdraw your demand, Daltonf
Methinks there'is parallel to it in the
story of David and Uriah."
/ "Did you ever hear Of the mother
again, Hastings?''
/ ..Only that she died. The habits o1
i her people, where marriage bonds are
4 quickly shaken loose when love fails,
made it seem no crime to leave me; bu,
when the wild desire to be free was
gratifed, they say she pined and died
But You have not answered my question
viii you leave me my childp''
evil You let her decide?"
4 In the silence that followed, Zillaf
stood in the doorway. Slender anc
beautiful, with. the longing of love il
the soft dark eyes, and the stern rigol
of determination around her mouth
|. the clear voice answered, 81 have de
J cided.''
i ITO become Dalton s wife P" queriei
the bitter voice of the invalid.
/ A single word, sharp with pain, GU
the air." Never!n
"Yet you love me-. Zillahpp pleaded
the lover.
4 This time the girl spoke with les
, effort. No, I do not. !" T. .t b.
Il Angry and sullen, Dalton went hi
way. Yet she did love him, and botl
he and Hastings knewrit. .szss
Now the glories Of self-sacri6ce ar
. not for the weak. When the hrmal
: heart becomes the scene of aIfierc
i struggle, the body that contains it mus
5 needs be strongnl Zillah's passionat
t prayer for strength to endure her tria
I was answered by increasing weakness
E and once more Hastings watched We
e man he loved better than his life fadin
E before bis eyes. Prom afar off he So,
o the end approaching, and KNEW that b