Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-03-02

int Slti 1T utI slue, ulONEu no more DA
this little episode than If a buzzing f1y
had been gently brushed from her smooth
/ forehead.
Mr.. Beltham received her note in til {
( street as he was returning from his dinner
to his rooms. AT all times he had been q
/ little afraid of Elaine. In proportion as
I he was calculating, selfish and cOwardly
he knew her to be cool, reckless, sarcastic
and perfectly fearless. Thinking, poor
young girl, that at best her days of life
were short. feeling that her death would
represent neither loss nor sorrow to any
one, she seemed to enjoy, at least entire
immunity from anxiety about herself or
the consequences of any of her actions.
She had lived in more tranquility OF
mind than usually falls to the lot of one sc
exposed as she had been to constant fiat.
terry and temptation. She had never
/ known or even fancied she knew the senti.
I ment called love. Men she had found
universally selfish and careless, and look
! ing at them as a class, she had not sus-
/ pected that of this unlOvely genus there
was a particular species large of heart
/ noble of aims, Gods best handiwork,
/ honest gentlemen. With these she had
had no dealings, and she believed no such
! possible; so, without at all being sensible
of the fact, this desOlate girl, walking the
world unsheltered and helpless, was, by
nature cuTlOusly fastidi0us, turning from
/ anything like sentiment with a sense OF
| being superior to such ill-cOncealed self
ishness. On her European tour one man
infatuated with her grace and sweetness
had offered her his hand. He promised
her all she so sOrely needed-hOme, name,
protection, love; but she was the last wO.
/ man in the world to accept them.
According to her own peculiar creed, a
creed evolved out of her own conscious
| ness, and acted on in a sort of blind crop
ing after better things, it was cOwardly,
! selfish and mean TO become the wife of this
| sound-hearted and amiable gentleman.
| and, looking at him with more respect
| than she mad yet felt for any human crea-
! ture she told him that his offer was be-
yOnd her deserts and firmly and grateful
| ly declined it. Sometimes, since she had
| been i'll, it had cOmforted her a little to
know that iii all the wide world there had
| been one hand held out for her help, and
| she thought that if she were n prayerful
| person it would be for his happiness that
she would pray. There was not parti-
Gle of romance in all this, She had not
loved him and sacrificed her passion on
the altar of generosity. She had not felt
a moments sentiment about him. She
had only given up many substantial COM
forts at the suggestion of bare honesty.
1t is safe to say, however, that if Elaine
| We're had given her whole heart to this
stranger under the same circumstances,
she would have withheld her hand.
There was certain largeness of soul
/ about this woman which made some
forms of mental degradation impossible
for her, and yet such lack Of respect for
what is called the worlds approval, and
| such ScOrn for its social Ostracism as to
permit her feet TO fall when danger threat
ened.
AS we said before, Albert Beltham knew
her we'll. Her character, as well as her
! beauty had curious fascination for HIM.
! He wondered at and could not under
stand it; and she had eXeTted no little in
] fluence over him for many months. Of
| ten he wished that he had never seen her,
and as often his next wish carried him
again into her presence. He had always
| a feeling that under her GOODNESS lay an
| immense tragic force which awaited only
/ the occasion to prove capable of any eX-
| IRENE. So, loving her sometimes as sim
! cerely as perfectly selfish man could
! love, he was always afraid of her. This
! last cool note of hers was startling but
/ eminently characteristic. 1t gave him no
! little anxiety, and ended by sending him to
! her door. She was entirely alone, and to
! his knock replied with careless "COme
| imp not thinking of him in the least at
! the moment.
| she had been for a week improving
rapidly, and the effect of long illness
was, by no means, unpeasantly appar-
| ent either in her face or figure.
| Then, as one prime article Of Elaine's
| creed was always to be as bec0mingly
dressed as possible, she looked very well
and very pretty this morning, with the
| quiet satisfaction of a happy GONZALES
cence beaming in her bright eyes. At the
sight of him a swift wave Of anger and
temper had swept over her, but she mas
lint
little as she said:
Il cannot imagine why you are here,
Mr.. Beltham."
He had not expected reprOaches; that
was not her style; but her smile puzzled
and alarmed him.
elaine" he said, show could you write
me such note? / received it in the
s street and md TsR so checked could hardly
She smiled once again pleasantly
enough.
u cannot imagine why you are here,
Mr.. Beltham," she repeated.
Il have come because feared you were
i'll, for one reason; but, more especially,
! because l cannot stay away, because, for
some reason or other, / cannot live without
you; then, you know, you had promised to
do me a kindness, and l came to inquire
about that"
Elaine got up and went back into her
room moment, then returned and stand
ing by the table said:
~ promised and l never break my
promise. Here is the letter to DR.. Fearne
written last fall. To-day, the 10th of
February, it is out of date and cannot be
sent. l have been too i'll all winter to
write again. | am better now and will
send a letter by this afternoons mail. So
much for business; now please attend to
what have to say. Elaine We're died, as
far as you are concerned, months ago.
| With Ellen Weston you have nothing to
| do. You and she are entire strangers. See
that you don'l forget that"
"But, Elaine, had so many things to
say to you"
"Here is your bat, Mr.. Beltham; take
it and 90 down stairs; y2u know | am not
going to permit you to stay here.|
If ever a little woman looked strong
and resOlute this one does, as she stands
cool. unruffled, and in a sort dignified with
the justice of her position. Perhaps she
is not a lady; perhaps she is no better
than "ODe of the wicked;" but, as she
| draws her slight figure up to its fullest
height and points to the door, she shows
not trace of anger or resentment. The
man before her looks little and mean,
groveling and contemplate. Not a word
had been said OF his long and cruel neg
lect, not a reminder of his thousand VOWS
Of eternal love and cOnstancy. Not a
tear had distressed his nerves, not a re-
proach threatened his peace. She was
pretty and gentle, but as cool and resO-
lutte as if this were a matter of life and
! death and he knew it.
Perhaps in their long acquaintance he
had never loved her so well as now !;
never valued her so highly. 1t seemed
so much harder to give her up than he
had supposed possible; but he knew, as
well as and better than if she had en-
forced her decree with protestatiOns and
oaths, that her decision was final. They
must part, and over the line she had
drawn between them he dared not step.
''Then," he said, with more of honest
feeling than he was accustomed to in
duIge in, ''if must go, Elaine, must go
even if it breaks my heart. Goodbye
Good-byer'
Goodbye, Mr.. Belthamv' she answer
ed, cheerfully, if not kindly; and he was
gone.
TO BE CONTINUED.
"
nE