Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-04-06

cOmpanionship than are the lost. Oh! it
is so grateful, so pleasant to be loved bv
such an one, a fair, young girl, who knows
tie sinful world, where my home has
been, as little almost as do the angels!
And have dared take all she offered
love, kisses, confidence! To all my other
sins / have added deceit. |, who have
had no small pride in my reckless hon
estyi And this Is not all; one other
wrong Outweighs all these. | cannot say
it. L cannot say it! 1t has come late to
me, this sin, to become the capstone of
that monument of wrOng-dOing which |
call my hfe-I, Elaine We're of the
Theatre Northumberland the streets.
have lifted my eyes TO Mr.. Fearne, not to
thank him for showing me one true-heart-
ed and noble gentleman, but to love him
MN who, know, is soon to be the hus-
band of Charlie, pretty Charlie Barrett
Well, God be thankedl that sin will be
soon shut into the grave with me, and
neither man nor woman may scOrn me for
it.
But the other wrong lies on my soul
Ike lead this day. Am afraid to speak!
afraid to act? l, who can look on death
even and not be dismayed. Aye! even |!
shrink with a great shrinking from what
/ must do. Poor Charlie! it is she who
makes it hard for me to speak. If she
had come with cool looks and polite
words of formal welcome; if she had held
her dainty skirts away lest they should
touch my sOiled garments; If, from the
pure heights of her grace and virtue, she
had looked down even pityingly on my low
estate. that curious, reckless pride. which
has made my life at least endurable,
would have come to my help and | could
laugh back at the queenly patronage
which wounded me not whit.
But to come, as she came, with a world
of love and trust and tenderness in her
grand eyes, to take me to her heart on the
word of that good old man, to forget her
birth. her wealth, her home. her ease. her
comforts. and promise me so much of hope
and happiness 1t is this; it is this that
ties my hands, that seal my lips, that,
for the first time in my poor, worthless
life, makes me atraid-afraid of what?
Not Of being cast out; l don't care for
that. Not of deserving scOrn; / can bear
that-but afraid of hurting her, of wound
ing her, of disappointing her. / fancy al
ready / can see it all. The look, first of
incredulOus wonder and establishment. at
last giving way to horror and disgust.
But this cross, terrible as it is, l VOW this
night to take up before many days. Let
me see. 1t is now almost May. The sum-
mer months which bring so many delights
to others viii bring to me the end-the
welcome end-the end of care and fear
and anxiety and bitterness-the end of
pain, of WEAKNESS and regret-the end of
this curious, tangled, veXing problem,
which is called life! So what matters it,
a few days, few months of isolation, of
hOmeIessness, of suffering? Into these
short hours let me infuse as much of
right as / can to cOunterbalance the long
record Of wrong. Yes, l will not longer
hide my sin! l will not proclaim it on
the hOusetops, but meekly, humbly,
quietly, as did one of old. will lay my
hand upon my heart, and, not daring so
much as to look up. will say: Have
mercy upon me, a sinnerp"
And Elaine We're, Gained and steadied
by her heroic resolve, went down to listen
to Mrs. Fearne's kindly talk in the pretty
manse parlOr.