The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1882-01-12

|
ened from my painful revery by my lit
tie onmpaniou's exclaiminR:
Here we arc
paid the driver, and we got out and
mounted three flights OF stairs in q shnb-
oy Lodging. house. He opened O door.
ana there, lying on stretcher, With q
hard mattress, was the wreck of the
brilliant beauty had not seen for ten
years, and who, but fox the child. I
should never have recognized. Not 80
with her, however; as the door opened
and her child entered she held out her
hand, saying in low, breathless voice ::
Eddy dear, where have you been p"
Then she raised her eyes, and, seeing me
standing in the doorway, she turned
deathly pale, and, throwing up her
hands, said, wildl y ooh, God, she
has come, she has come Alice, Alice,
forgive me I am dying nowl"
Forgive herP Yes, with the grim
shadow OF death hanging over her I
could not do otherwise. / went to the
bedside and took her hand.
II am glad to have found you,
Elolse all Is forgiven"
could say no moro the poor, thin
face, feverish eyes and shrunken form
made my heart ache. She raised her
self up, and, clutching my hand, said /:
Listen, Alice, am dying. I must
Heaven; he has left me. You are re-
venged, and my little girl has gone. and
he pointing to the boy" the image
OF his father, will soon be alone, all
alone My father and mother and sister
are all dead, and his father--I dc not
| know If he is living OF dead, but he
should not have my innocent boy to
ruin. Oh, Alice, you look inc same as
ever; will you take care of my boy ?"
For aninstantI reooiled take Edwin
Anderson's child to my house to live
with my children 1t seemed impos-
sible ; but those large, wistful eyes were
fixed on me must answer.
"I will find home for him, Eloise."
"You will not take him yourself,
| Alice?" And she raised herself up, and
excitement lent strength to her voice.
"Alice, heard of your marriage to q
good man. Have you children? ?"
90 have little girl years old and
baby"
"Then for Gods sake take my bow
and make him good; let him be your
| child, and, when he gets old enough to
understand, give him that DESK" point
ing to one ON table at her side. "I
have written out my history as a warn
ing to him, and all my papers of any
value are there have nothing left of
my fathers property; he has sold it all
and squandered the money. I believe
he went to Europe and is living some.
where in Italy with another of his dupes {:
my boy is portionless. Will you, oh,
Alice, will You forgive all and take
him ?"
"I WILL"
l could say no more, and, the excite
ment being over, she fell back exhausted.
summoned assistance from one of the
other rooms, and begged them to 90 for
the nearest physician but it was too
late he came but to say that she was
going fast, and ere night she died with
her head on my shoulder.
i had sent note to my husband ex-
planning my absence, and he was there
with n carriage to take home myself and
our new child. He knew all. I had
told MIN the sore secret of my heart
before married him. AS Eloise had
said, he was q good man, and when I
told him her wish about her boy he
| said quietly:
"The child is ours now"
There was quiet funeral, and Eioise
Anderson was laid beside her lost little
| girl.
And this is the story of our two lives.
Years before, Eloise Grayson and I,
Alice Browne, were together at Madame
C.'s boarding-schoo for young ladies.
Her father was called wealthy, and she
and q sister several years her senior
were all that were left of large family.
Eloise wac very beautiful, and, when at
| oh hnl olr ,I,,DNr af
us and bow in our daily walks.
After we left school I made her visit
of few days and invited her to come
and see me in our quiet country home
when she liked. She had, however, too
gay a life and too many admirers to care
to accept my invitation then. Mean
while settled down at home and helped
my mother sew and learned to keep
house, and also learned something else
to love with all my heart handsome,
dashing young man who had come to
our quiet village to stay for q few days,
weeks. Edwin Anderson almost lived
at my fathers house, and, at last, with
my fathers full consent, we were en-
gagged.
OF course in the fullness of my Joy
wrote to all my friends, and Eloise
among the others. Not long after, she
wrote to say she was coming to make me
that long.promised visit. Well, she
came, and at her very first meeting with
Edwin she completely monopollzed his
attention; she came to my room that
night and declared herself charmed with
hiln-"a perfe,t Adonis." She envied
me, called me o sly puss for catching
such handsome man in that out of the
way place: then kissed me goodnight
and left mo with strange chill at my
heart. do not know how it was, but
she was always with us; we never
seemed to be alone, and she engrossed
him completely; sometimes che would
| lauyh and sav 80 carelessly: