The Red Cloud chief., 1876-06-22

a woman's share Of tact.
I had not known her long before !
could talk tO her Of the sad story that
she knew already, and tell her about the
day when | looked back and saw the lit
tie figure in the window. holding up my
child for me Ia see.
Well. YOU have guessed already, sup
pose, at the end of the beginning. /
never loved Harriet Stanhope-neyer.
But it came Ia Inc, slowly at first. and
very reluctantly. and then with great
shock. that this woman cared for me.
And I began 10 think Of the possibility
Of her taking-in mems eyes. at least.
and to outward seeming-Edna's empty
place.
She WAS lonely. as | was, with no near
relatives. no home. and a sOrrowful out
look before her. ! never could bear the
sight of a solitary and uncared for
WOMAN, and the wOInan touched all Inv
pity and sympathy. l gave her that
and my friendship most freely and sim
cerely. and that was all. But | began
To think that ven without love life
might be sweetened a little, and SO |
said to myself that | would marry her.
! did not resolve hastily. l knew her
two years before ! had thought Of it at
all, and then it was long before the idea
took a definite shape. | was travelling
in the West, and one Of the letters
reaching me at Il large town in Ohio.
decided the last doubt that Was in my
mind. | read it twice and then walked
the floor all night, and lived my life
over i'm memory, and reached far into
the future to plan out what it would be
what it must be if God preserved it
and sat down to write to Harriet.
1t was only natural that l should
dream that night of Edna. She came
to me at dawn and stood by the bedside
with the child-my son who bore my
name and was SO like me. And she
told me that she had never died at all.
but had been waiting for me all these
years, and God had kept her young. and
the baby was a baby yet. only he would
call me father" and the word was ring
ing in my ears when | awOke.
l thought of her while dressing. and
| went down stairs at last, the letter in
my breast pocket, directed to Harriet,
and vas dreaming Of a wOman older
and fairer than she, when into my
dreams stole a voice, and the sound of
my Owl name.
is everything ready, Shirley, DEAR"
/ looked up. There were two people
at the little round table nearest mine
Il lady. quietly dressed, as if for travel
ing, in black, without a touch of color,
and a tall, straight, broad-shouldered
stripping, with a young face and eyes
like hers. / knew they were mother
and son before he answered her.
"All ready. The train starts in an
hour. You've got nothing at all to do,
Madame Mere, but to sit and read a
novel, or look out of the window till |
call you"
And then they laughed together. She
had a girlish face, and yet it was a
sOrrOwful one, too. Her eyes were
brown. l looked into them, and all my
yOuth-time looked back again; and l
saw the old house, in the old street in
New Orleans, and the face in the
window, and heard the baby's hands
patting on the panes. Only two brown
eyes and a sweet voice. and a mans
name spoken softly to call up all that
witchery?
She arose from the table almost that
minute.
81 don't want the Strawberries, Shir-
ley. I'm going up to my room, and. if
you want to read a novel. you must run
out and get me One I've packed every
thing, and l want some light reading
for the cars"
Her dress was sweeping my chair as
she spoke, and stirred my senses-fast
asleep for so lOng-came a soft, violet
scent. 1 was going mad, l believe. AS
if no woman but Edna LecOmpte had
ever used that faint, subtitle perfume.
l started up and strobe out of the
dining room, following those two, and
saw the mother so up the staircase-a
slight, daintily moving figure, with a
touch of girlish grace in it still, while
the son passed On before me to the Of
fee of the hotel. He went and leaned
owe the desk and spoke to the clerk i'm
his CHEEKY, fresh voice; and 1 stood near
him, turning the leaves of the hotel
register.
Mrs. Shirley Lecompte."
shirley LecOmpte, New York City"
l turned and put my two hands on
his shoulders. l could have taken him
to my heart and kissed the child-likeness
Of his face, but l did not say one word
for a minute, while he flashed his brown
eyes upon me with a half angry little
frOwn.
"Are you Shirley Lecompte's son?
Where-where is your father?"
MY father is dead. That was his
name" looking straight into my face.
and then 1 dropped my hands.
Il was your fathers friend, my boy.
I-can see his looks in you. And your
mother. Will you take me to your
mother, Shirley"
Well. l have forgiven him-the man
who stole the sweetness out of life for |