Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-03-30

Pretending altogether to misunderstood
her, he said quietly:
"What In the world are you talking
about, child? OF course you are going
away. but do you fancy l shall let you 60
alone? l shall 90 to nurse you; and so
will mother"
''Oh! my poor Albert! nv poor boy -
she said, clasping her two hands to-
gether, whilst tears filled her tender
/ eyes. "Tou don't know, and it is so hard
to tell you. l am not going away to re-
turn. l am going to heaven, yes, going to
heaven to wait there for YOU"
"Annie! Anniev' he cried. as if struck
with sudden pain, show can you talk SO?
how can you be so childish? do you want
to break my HEARTH
mo, darling; but l want to prepare
you. Don't you remember l used to sing
a little song when l was a child called the
May Queen?"
Il think do.'
'sWelI, the young girl in the poem
was dying, and she heard IN the wild
March morning the angels call her soul.
just so last night l heard them call me.
You had gone down in the porch to walk.
| could hear distinctly your footsteps up
and down, up and down; but | heard no
other sound. not voice, not even the rus
tie of a bird wing. 1t was quite dark in
the room, but / could see the stars out
] sue luIOuRU tuC lIttSs L WAS uOJ Ill pam
nor uncomfortable in any way. l only
felt rested and quiet. Just at this time
a strain, just one, of sweet music came as
to the May Queen
"Right through the window bars
Then seemed to 90 right up to heaven
And die among the stars
and, though no voice spoke to me, /
seemed to know that it was call for my
soul. Oh! l had so lOnged to live, so
longed to get well and stay with you! but
all my regrets went off with the stran
music, and now l don't mind; l am not
at all afraid, only, only, dear Albert, dear
/ husband, want you to love the good God
/ so that we may meet again; won't you
/ promise me? won't you promise me? Say
| you will, please, say you will, my dar-
/ ling.'
! Perhaps even a villain may have some
/ thing like a ul-sOmething cramped,
/ dwarfed and starved, but something that,
I beneath its thick crust of wOrldliness,
/ selfshness and SIN, might return a feeble
response to touching appeal from sim
/ less heart in which he had been so long
enshrined. Albert Beltham felt a little,
a very little, remOrse at his wlfe's gem
4 tie, child-like words, and taking her poor
i tile helpless hand into both his own he
said as tenderly as he could;
81 am afraid am not a good man, my
sweet Annie"
III you are not, she SdlU, Win
animation, "theTe is no one good. You,
who are so gentle, so kind, so careful of
me. When l go to heaven | shall see my
own mother, perhaps, and tell her how
/ tenderly you and your mother have cared
for her orphaned child. Don't 90 away,
Albert; stay and hold my hand. l want
to sleep again, and it is so sweet to sleep
with you close by me-"
$50 to sleep, darling, and / will stay"
"a a child closed
eyes, still smiling tOndly at her husband
And hel The little touch of feeling had
( long since left his heart. 1t died almost
at its birth, and already had given place
to schemes and plans and purposes, all
dependent on the quick and certain death,
not of foes allied against his peace, but OF
| this pure-hearted woman, in whose inno-
/ cent heart he had been lifelong king.
Base as his Judean prototype of old his
kiss had been the token of treachery-the
signal Of death.
The next day Mr.. Fearne has arranged
to leave the city for two days. Charlie
concludes to spend these with her dear
teacher. Since her approaching mar
riage had become so well known. she had
been a little chary of showing herself at
all hours in the pleasant study at her
/ aunt's. Loving EscOtte with her whole
soul, she still felt his presence there an
! embarrassment, especially as his father,
in the fullness Of his satisfaction, could
not fOrbear very constant illusions to the
new ties which little tried the young
/ girl. SO it CHANGED that this morning she
aWoke with decided sense of gratifica-
ton. EscOtte vas away and she might
spend one or two long, bright spring days
at her uncle's. Asking permission of
grandmamma was not now quite such a
formidable undertaking as it had been
hitherto. Not that the executive lady
was less conscious of her own Importance
in the household or cared to abate one
jot Of her authority with the pretty girl,
but Mrs. Beltham was in trouble. An
/ nie's condition lay like a dead weight on
her heart and thoughts, and it was not in
her nature to entertain more than one en-
/ crossing interest at one time. CO1se-
quently she had said to Charities re-
| quest:
Eyes, dear, l think it is we'll for you to
get out little. You need a change. Do
give my kind regards to your aunt, and,
Charlie, be sure and come home tomorrow
afternoon"
One thing the girl must do before leav-
ing. This was to see her sick young
mother. She had gotten to feel heartsick
at the very thought Of Annie. To see her
so hOpelessly i'll, to see her wasting away,
and yet, to carry a horrible suspicion of
| evil doing at her heart, which she could
by no means avert or prove, all this made
it trial even to 60 into the sick room.
But she could not leave without knowing
just how she feared. and, with dull pam
! at her heart, she knocked at her mothers
door. Annie was up and dressed, looking
better a good deal than she had done the
night before; looked pleased and happy,
too, for her idOliZed husband was sitting
by her side.
''Come in, Charlie" she said, in her
sweet, gentle way, 'come and kiss me;
h,ssfr Ill
day"
81 am well, mamma" she said, ''and
you? ! think you must be better. There!
l will kiss YOU twice, one for good morn
| ing and one because you look so much
more comfortable"
'Yes, l think am more comfortable. 1
ought to be, am so well nursed. Are
you going OUT"
yes, to spend a day or two with aun-
tie.
"And to see Mr.. Fearne, Charlie?"
"Oh! no; he has gone away for few
days."
Il will tell you whom you will see,
Charlie,' said Mr.. Beltham, who had not
yet spoken. "You will see Mrs. Fearne's
new prOtege."
'Miss WestOnY
eyes"
"When did she come? knew she was
expected"
son Tuesday, / think. You will be
sure to like her. She is very bright and
/ pretty"
''DO you know her, Albert?" asks his
wife.
"Oh! no; but called at DR.. Fearne's
/ yesterday, you remember, and when |
went in found Mr.. Fearne and Miss Wes-
| ton IN the parlOr."
''What is she like, Albert?" again ques-
/ tions his wife.
''She is quite small-an inch shorter
than Charlie-with a pair of lovely eyes
/ and pretty dark hair. She looked grace
/ full, too, but then / only saw her a few
minutes, as she left the room almost i'm.
mediately."
swell, l shall see her myself'' said
/ Charlie, pleasantly. NOW, dear, sweet,
! little mamma, hate to leave you even for
| day, but it is a comfort To see you look
better. You must just rest and get better
! all the while, and if you miss me or need
me in the very least, you know how glad
/ ly will come back if you will send for
me. Don't try to read. Your book made
/ your head ache yesterday. l will read
/ for you when come back. Now, kiss me
| three times and say goOd-byeW
''GOOd-byel my darling; don't worry
about me; just be- happy and come back
when you can"