Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1877-03-30


Even in the mans vulgar face shone a
sudden gleam of pity. But he was
ashamed of II. &C. 1t is usually the case
with patients in this disorder. / see no
reason to hope why you will escape,
Mrs Danford."
"I thought SOL thought So" sharply
"Well, there is nothing to be done about
II. Will you write me general pre-
scription-to alleviate pain, you said?"
"You do not wish me to attend you
regularly, then?'-with surprised
glance.
4" / may be removed out of your reach" j"
she said, evasively.
When he had written the prescription
and torn the leaf from his book, she
handed him his fee, waited until he had
left the house, and then went in to her
baby.
When old Sally came in presently she
heard Nelly laughing and talking for an
hour or more, and wondered that her
mother made no sound in reply. Late
in the afternoon a telegram came from
Danford: viii be detained at office
until ten p m. Shall keep Charley until
/ go out"
Lizzy read it, and laid it down. "That
is BETTER" she said "If l saw them
again l could not 60" For she had
quite made up her mind now what she
should do. Her husband, her children,
should not see her horrible end
The house, the children's clothes, were
in perfect order But she went from
place to place with Nelly in her arms.
1t was singular that 1t was only of their
practical loss when she was gone that she
thought. "Sally can cook; but who will
keep the house, or make their clothes in
the spring? Charley will have nobody
to tell his stories about school to when
he comes home. And Richard" But
she forced that back.
She sat down and rocked the child,
looking by turns at its little feet, its
hands, pushing back its hair. She
thought of her at every age-a school
| girl-grown.up.
Z" She will have no mother-no mother" I"
She had been devout, prayerful wom-
an, but she could not pray now.
| She made herself up a bundle of
clothes, fastened it in a shawlstrap, and
laid letter she had written on her hus-
bands pillow. The evening had fallen
cold and drizzling She gave Nelly her
supper undressed and rocked her to
sleep; then she laid her in her crib. Only
| yesterday she had been busy making
cover for the crib and Charley's bed. 1t
was all over now. She would never do
anything for them again-never again.
1t was time now. She put on her hat
and cloak, took up her bundle. There
was blotted exercise which Charley had
left half finished that morning; she took
that with her, and the stocking which
Nelly had just worn, still warm, the
creases in it which the little foot had
made. Then she went to her husbands
old chair, where he had sat every even
| ing for years, and knelt down by it.
Sally, in the kitchen, thought she heard
a call: Richard! Richard!' but all was
| still.
AS Lizzy knelt there she did not pray.
She meant to bid good,by to her hus-
band, but she could not. Would he ever
forget her? Would he marry again?
Those were her thoughts. There had
been certain Annie Ward, years ago,
of whom Danford had made a friend.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet and walked
straight to the glass. I" hope he will
be happy. He ought to marry, for the
children's sake" she said over and over.
But he will not remember me as loath-
some. Annie Wards face does not COM
pare with mine now"
This new sharp pang gave her sudden
strength. She stayed alone with her child
for few moments, and then passed
hastily out, stopping at the kitchen door.
The old black woman was busy over the
| fire, singing a hymn.
"Goin' to de depot, Miss Betty? Got
on yoh ps?"-coming to the door.
Elizabeth put her hand on the skinny
fingers. "Take care of the children for
me, Sally"
Sartin. Yoh's not goin' fur?" with
vague alarm.
But Elizabeth made no answer, and
disappeared in the darkness.
The letter which Danford found on his
return contained these words:
have an incurable disease. / have but
| little while to live, and will not stay to be-
come an object of disgust and loathing to
| you and the children. Do not try to find me.
| You never can do it, My measures are too
well taken. You shall know when l am
| dead.
There was not word of affection or
of farewell. She could not trust herself
to that.
In these practical days, whatever a
mans agony, he acts promptly and prac-
tically. In day Danford's friends had
set all the machinery of advertising,
telcgraphing, detective agencies at work;
but to no effect. They searched distant
places tirst-the scenes of those old ex-
cursions of which she had talked so
much, the homes of her school-mates,
the county in Kentucky from which she
came.
She would not go out of sight of me
and the children" poor Danford insist
ed; but nobody needed him. DR.. Prey,
for reasons of his own, never made him
self known in the matter, and Elizabeth
had not limited her disorder to the old
family physician. I" He would tell Rich
ard, she said. Simply because she had
taken no measures of precaution, she
had left no clew whatever.
Month after month passed. Danford
was at work again at his desk. When
work was over he walked the streets un-
til late at night. 1t seemed to him that
every moment he would meet her or hear
that she was dead. The horrible cruelty
of her conduct to himself never occurred
to him; it was only of her, dying alone,
perhaps in want, that he thought. The
police reported to HIM, from time to
time, their superhuman efforts. But we
all know to what these efforts usually
amount in cases of disappearance.
Mrs. Danford knew the city was her
best hiding place. Nowhere could
human being sink as securely out of
SlFRn SFR thhtiadlERphiRR,s hiRRs %@E0RotQR9As RlAf6b6S
of inhabitants. There was little
that was distinctive about Lizzie.
A thin, oldish looking woman, who wore
a cap and spectacles, lodged in a room
over a bakers shop in Kensington, and
earned a dollar or two week by slop-
work. She brushed against policemen
every day. Sometimes at night, wrapped
in cloak, she carried basket filled
with shoe-laces and pins to the depot,
and sat in a dark corner until the pas
sengers to Germantown had gone out.
H.. Il E.NN