The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1879-06-12
again and again during the next three

again and. again during the next three
busy days.
The Mermaid was to sail at daybreak
on the third of April. Just as the clock
struck nine, ON the evening of the
second, Mrs. Allingham was startled
from her sad and solitary thoughts by
the strike of the doorbell. =.
In a moment, Captain Arnold entered
the drawing-room. He had left his hat
in the hall, but he carried package in
his hand. ,.z...s
Perhaps + am better late than
neVer," ~ he obser,ed, composedly,
"since I promised you to come, Mrs.
Allingham. We leave in the morning,
and expect to have no sleep until after
we set sail. Yes; very busy" for she
had spoken mechanically, though the
formal use of her married name had
sent the warm blood eeldly back to her
heart. He asked for Rose.
"I am very sorry, but she is asleep.
I will wake her ---zzs' "a llI,,s.i 4stsss,if1
." No, no, I have but a brief FIVE
minutes. Give her. this toy. And tell
my namesake to write TO mel, you will
get my address at any time from my
banker. We will get acquainted by
correspondence since it must be SOL
He had already risen again. :
I am pressed for time; good. bye
Perhaps your health will improve, Mrs.
Allingham; I sincerely hope 50. Tell
little Rose / was sorry not to see her.
Farewell" 48 S7i,55-5
Take care of yourself" ~
And now. he shook hands with her.
It was for the last time. i's
When Mark Arnold's footsteps had
long died away, Madeleine Allingham
opened the package he had left. 9go.
ga dollp' she exclaimed . with q
slight impression of amaze.
She held the costly French toy up in
the light. She had expected to find a
vase OF book. ~
al did not tell him her age" she
added, thoughtfully. ~
For Rose Arnold Allinghan, though
childlike in. nature, and petite in. stature,
was in her fifteenth year. .s
4 nIi \ st7.. n
Childlike IN nature because, SIM
plicity itself, the girl inherited nothing
of her motherTneither beauty nor
faults. With her brown eyes and rings
Of pale gold Hair, she had much fairness
and sweetness without being pretty.
She had been educated, so far at home,
and had, as I have said, much simplicity
of character. She loved books, flowers,
pets, and her mother, who was, to her,
all good. f,,s. u ,..
The latter said to her. the next morn
ing:
"Rose, very old friend came here
last night"
{" Who, mother2' ~ -.
I" The gentleman for whom you are
named-Mr. Arnold" s.gn,m 4
And with an earnestness which the
child felt, she went on to describe Mark
Arnold in an exaltation of feeling which
surpassed anything she had ever felt
before. 1t made deep impression on
the young girls pure heart. ll{1t}
i am SO glad | was named for him,
mamma. would like to write and tell
him So"
You may, Rose," glad of the child Is
impulse, for the innocent letter she
knew would reveal the sweet heart, and
Arnold could not fail to appreciate.
A very child's letter il was-spon-
taneous, guileless and warm. 1t came
to Mark Arnold in a dark and lonely
hour, and from the moment he read il
he took his namesake into his heart.
Henceforth he was no longer lonely
My namesake." She stood to him fol
all else he lacked. Every choice sight
or rare object was twice observed to en-.
able him to describe it definitely in q
letter to Rose. Treasures and curiosi
ties sayed-purchases made.
And Rose responded eagerly-grate
fully. The child had a talent for letter.
writing, and her impuIsive, uncon
sidered words builded better for hel
than she knew. 80 y.
Her picture went to him. 1t was
very much like the face he had imag
ined. A broad and beautiful brow
pale curls, sweet eyes, Though Rose
had now attained her fifteenth year, ths
photograph seemed to represent a chile
of twelve.
1t pleased Arnold that she nowise re
| sembled her mother. Toward Madeleine
Preston-as he inyoluntarily called hel
his feelings were onlyof GOODNESS ani
pain, as we recall course of cruel suf
fering.
He had idealized her in her marvelou
beauty; she had basely deceived hin
and sold herself for gold. He had Ions
ceased to love her. He did not hat,
her-that was all. 'fy ga
And now Mrs. -Allingham was rapid,
dying. In the year and a half sine
Captain Arnold's departure her.diseas
had been making great progress. Eve,
Rose, though familiar with the dali,
sight of her mothers face, saw it at last
Mamma, how thin and white 70,
arel" stroking her emaciated chez
with her soft, dimpied hand.
| "My darling, l am very sick. And
4 feel shall never be BETTER
| 1t was the first moment that tn
truth had even approached Rose. Th
sad woman felt the small arms tighte
4 as the young head was hidden agains
her breast; and, when a storm Of viii
tears followed, she could not speak fc
unreconciled sorrow. ii sasi
Letter, after letter now came frol
Mark Arnold. One bore a fine foreig
photograph of himself; another an e,
quisite cutting in ivory; but the
ELECTED no response from Rese, save
tiny note, which drifted, with delay
over the seas, and at last reached h
hand: ,.... ....., a.,
My mamma is very, very ill.
can write to no one. Ny heart is breal
ing"
That was all land the strong man
, cheek grew pale with pity.
But there came day when Madeleir
AlIingham was ill no more. The wo1
body Fwas at rest. Her last words
Rose had been:
" Rose, you are child no longe
, You are woman. Be good woman
| and, with bitter sigh for her own pas
Madeleine Allingham died.
| There had been few last brief, nece
: sary talks between mother and daughte
Rose was nearly sixteen. She had bee
, | Ior oI