The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1882-11-08

Dut L mean what L have SAID.
"Hilda, till | met you it seems to
me that | really never lived you
must show me some pity"
He threw himself on his knees
before her, caught her hands and
kissed them.
Vain, vain" she cried. 1T is
done, and it cannot be undone."
DO you really mean what you
say?H he asked, his voice trembling.
The man was in earnest at last.
Yes, she answered, sadly and un-
waveringly. Il mean it most abso-
lute.y."
Then | must abide by your de-
cision, he said, rising, certain pride
in his voice ''Good by, then"
He had gone as far as the door
when she called him back.
Don't be too angry with me-
said she, laying her hands in his;
kiss me-"
He did Kiss her long and verv
passionately: then be left the room,
left the village, and reached London
by late train, bringing a real grief
in his sham grief's stead. Resolved
on doing something desperate, he
cast himself at the feet of the beau
tiful Miss Sanfordj to his surprise
she did not appreciate her happi-
ness,
II never believed all the fine
things you said" she remarked. II
knew you to- be a hirt; but you
amused me, aud for that | am CRATE
full
He went away considerably hum
bled The real grief, unlike the
sham one, was totally useless. 1t
inspired no poem; it stimulated to
no pleasant flirta;ions; it lay at Mr..
Clarkson's heart, a great, heavy, un-
removable weight. Like a wound
ed animal, he Stunned his fellows.
He thought grimly to himself, as he
roamed about the London streets,
uow grown to him so dreary, that at
last he knew what the real thing
was. In tho course of a month OF
SO there came TO him a desire in some
way to do something that might at
last enlighten the gloom that wrapt
him round.
I've spoilt my own life" he mus
ed, still it might turn to some good
account for others; | have money,
and great sympathy with the peo-
pie, and they need both. To spend
INV life helping them is what Hilda
would approve of if she knew it,
and that is what | will do"
The very next day he carried out
his good resolution; for he was per-
fectly in earnest. Still the man was
so IN the habit of posing that he
could not help at first surveying him
self with a little melancholy salts
faction as the peoples helper, given
to them by great sorrow. When
he got really in his work, however,
he ceased this sort OF exhibition
upon the stage of life with himself
as spectator. Things seemed to him
too serious TO incline him to strike
an attitude before them. For the
first time ne forgot himself, in view
of other peoples calamities. Truly
his labors were not light; and he
felt no disposition to toy with his
work as once he had toyed with
love. Daily he risked his life, some
times ffoin interfering to protect
some woman from the drunken vi
olence Of her master, sometimes
through long night watches beside a
wretch il. of some frightful contag-
ious disorder. He held not his own
life dear unto him, and perhaps it
was for that reason that he came
alive out of every peril. Often, be-
fore the world was well awake, he
would return home from night
passed beside the dying, only to
snatch a little sleep and go forth
again to his self-imposed tasks. He
saw sights and heard sounds before
which less determined spirit would
have quailed, but his strong purpose
upheld him. Among his many
friends at the East End was g FAM
liz Of the name of White. Mrs,
White was a widow. She let cheap
lodgings. Her eldest child Sara add
ed to her small income by playing
humble parts at East Eud theatres.
She was good girl, this Sara, with
laughing b u eyes, pretty shaped,
sensitive face and large quantity
of fair hair,
Mrs. White would exclaim:
Its not, sir, because some folks
never look where they are going and
drag their skirts through every pud-
die they can, that Others can't walk
in clean places
Clarkson became very fond of
Sara-1ot at all in a sentimental
way; he had quite done with that.
He regarded her more as father
might regard pet child. She be-
lieved him, TOO; and that was nice.
Often, on fRe summer days, would
he come and take her off to Rich
mond or Kew. or somewhere where
she could gather wild flowers, in the
season of them. To see her pleas
ure alvavs plea-ed him
Mrs. White herself was not at all
an i'll meaning woman. She was
shockingly untidy, however, in her
appearance, and she had temper of
her own. One gray October Sunday
afternoon Mr.. Clarkson found him
self, after two months absence on
his summer holiday, again near
Mrs. Whites house. 1t was a de-
pressing day and its most depressed
hour-between 3 and + o'clock As
he walked down the dingy streets,
with the dirty houses On either side
Of him-houses that had a look OF
grim content about them, as if they
had now grown proud of their dirt,
and would not, if they could, be diff
ferent-I say, as he walked along,
smoking a very good cigar, be heard
the melancholy cry of "water-eresses,
fine water-cressesl"
In front of him, with short clay
pipe in his mouth, man was fore
Ing reluctant donkey drawing ?
barrow, the contents Of which the
driver roared out. from time to time,