Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-24

generous and kind. The prime misfortune
of her life had been that at eighteen years
of age, she had found herself pretty, ami
able, friendless and desperately poor.
Then circumstance, that unspiritual
God" had helped along the coming
evil, ''Whose touch turns hope to dust"
On! man! sheltered with the license the
world gives thy happier seXl OH wO-
man! sheltered with the triple steel of
home and love and friends! Judge her
nOtl Let her alonel Heaven is above
all yet-there sits a Judge that nothing
can corruptW Leave her, and others no
worse, to Him! For these-eYen for these.
He will have pityl
Mr. Beltham had been cross and even
angry; and really was SO still; but he
knew better than to demonstrate it now.
one glance had shown him that his
friend was not in the mood to take it, and
he knew her well. She would not be viO-
lent; she was never violent; but she could
be sarcastic, and he feared-cOWard as he
was, be feared her sharp retOrts. Willing
to cOncillate her, he improvised kindly
smile, and said:
"Well. Elaine, are you not coming in to
see me? You have kept me waiting a good
while"
mo. l am nOtv
Didn't you write me to cOme-that you
wanted to see meD
Yes"
"WelI?"
Il will come in when You rise and offer
me a chair; not sooner"
He sprang up and handed her a chair as
if she had been Duchess. She took it
with a sort Of careless grace.
''Wha did you want especially to-day,
ElaineI"
Il wanted to tell you that 1 am going
away from here aud from YOU"
"WhereP' he asked, quickly, eagerly.
Il don't know" she answered, YEARLY.
Il am going somewhere, where there are
no city streets, no tall houses, no noises,
no policemen, no beggars, no grand car
riages, no theatres, no gaslights, no gaz-
ing crowd, no clapping hands, no crime,
no sin, no Albert Betthdmi'
Are you so tired of life, ElaineY'
mo; SO tired Of y0uw
His face flushed little, but he recover
Ell quickly.
You are not well, child. You need a
change"
Il am perfectly well; but willhave the
changer
And you are willing to leave me for
ever! me who have been so kind al
ways?D
Not only willing, but so gladi 1 don't
expect to live long; | belong to a short
lived family; my father died at thirty
eight, my mother at TWENTY-FIVE. Every
=
shall be in mine in a few more years. l
am tired and worn out with life aud l am
only twenty-siX. But, before | die, |
want to live a little while away from all
this-far out in the country somewhere;
where tall trees grow and wild flowers,
where the birds sing, and men and women
are not all selfish and cruel"
you fancy this because it represents
an entire change; but you could not live
one month without excitement. A woman
/ who has been ten years on the stage can
not content herself with birds and flow
! ers. "
I Il will try it, nevertheless"
You may, my dear Elaine, but not
yet; | want YOU to do me one little act OF
kindness before we part. 1t isn't much.
/ Remember, when we first met, you were
/ overwhelmed with debts and trouble. l
/ paid them all and gave you home. Don't
l deserve something at your hands?"
Yes; l Will do anything to repay your
/ kindness in paying my debts, not because
l am grateful, but because daily and
/ hourly you remind me of it until the
/ thought has become intOlerable."
She drew herself up with a proud little
/ gesture, and looked at the man before her
/ with unmistakable disgust in her eyes.
All! Elaine" ne said, you are cruel.
/ / cannot yet think you hate me. Tell me
why. Am l so plain Y'-glancing into
the mirror oppOsite-"sO very plain and
unattractiVe!'
''Ohl no." she said; Il never hate peO-
/ pie for being plain and unattractive. They
/ are never responsible for that; it IS only
/ because you are vain and selfish and
mean"
Don't be rude, Elaine. didn't come
/ here to quarrel with you. 1 came on par
I ticular business. ! want you to do me a
1 kindness which, if faithfully done, shall
! cancel all obligation from you to me, and
/ which will be only easy and pleasant in
/ the doing"
Il am ready to help you, Albert, but
/ you know | don't take your word for any
/ thing. Take a pen and sign what l
/ viii write, and Will do all you ask"
/ every we'll"
! She wrote something rapidly and hand
( ed the paper to him. He read aloud:
/ Il do swear that l will never mention
! again to Elaine We're, or any other person
! living, that l have once paid her debts,
! and will frsm this date never speak
/ to or meet her, except as a perfect
stranger"
NWhyl Elaine" he exclaimed, as he
/ finished reading, ''the first l will do, l
will never mention the debts; but the
last, surely you did no! mean thatY
Il see you have no favor to ask as you
/ decline my terms,'' she said, with no lit
/ tie scOrn.
He sat for a while thinking. He knew
her too we'll to fancy she could be turned
from her purpose. After little while he
( said:
i will sign it all, Elaine; but it seems
! very, very hard"
She placed the pen and ink before him
and he wrote his name, not without re-
! gTetful look at her, however, and then she
I folded the scrap of paper and put 1t into
+ the pocket Of her dress.
/ Now tor your business she said.
He looked at her little dOubting1y.
/ She was only a small, frail woman, and
/ he knew he would make her angry. He
7 knew also that she had grown to hate him,
and he was half afraid.
You know / have been away for near
4 " two weeks. Well, the night before /
+ left l came here to say goodbye" You
We're not at home, and, as l was tired, l
concluded to sit here and rest a while.
/ AS / sat idly looking around espied your
writing desk, and
And being a gentleman you opened it
and read my letters?"
She was sitting with her arms folded,
/ her head erect, and her bright eyes flash
/ ing. He did not look at her, but down at
/ the carpet, his hands nerYouslY twisting
/ his watch chain.
/ Il couldn't think you would care to
/ have any concealments from me" he con-
1 tinued, still without looking up, "and l
/ did read a few. You know l have always
/ felt interested to know your history-and
and | knew YOU would pardon the
act for the sake of the interest l feel in
/ you"
go on"
81 found, what I suspected of course
/ long ago, that your name is not Elaine
We're, but"
you needn't continue, Mr.. Albert Bel
than. You have done the one thing you
should not have dared to do. You have
found out the one little secret have kept
from the hard world in which live. My
father was gentleman and clergyman;
my mother lady. l have hOnored their
memory so far that | have not been
called by their name. l cannot conceive
what motive even you, a man who does
not turn to the right or the left except for
some selfish ends, could have in wanting
to know what you have learned. To what
use will you put it? That is the next
question"
He was well accustomed to her frank
expression of opinion, but he had an I'M
ruly temper of his own, which, to do him
justice, he usually restrained. Now,
however, he felt less sure of himself He
sat absolutely quiet for a minute; then,
very gently, he replied:
Il did not think, Elaine, when 1 read
those letters of using the information l