Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1885-03-15

"Do l look miserable? No. Rose" ne
| told her, as he strOked her cheek, ''she is
come upon a better mission than that.
| She is To build US new hospital, you
know"
! "But if she tears down all yOur build
ings in the process" Iamented the girl,
| with unconscious repetition Of his meta
| phOr.
hr. Keator experienced a shrinking
| selEaccusal, but he said, summOning a
! smile again with effort:
1--WE shall have to put an extra prop or
| two under the walls-that is all. We
| shall get along, think. l shall be more
4 tempted, yes. But wish to be tempted,
/ you know"
| ''HOw can | ever doubt you.'' murmur-
| ed Rose, as they went into the library to-
/ gether. ut is not really a doubt. All
| my knowledge of you teaches me so much
| better!'
| Mr.. Keator seated himself rather weari-
| ", and she sank beside him on her accus-
| toned hassOck.
/ "Rememb Der, that it is always my love
/ that forms it," she went on. sometimes
/ it must seem strange to you, john"
! do you think never doubt MYSELF"
/ Gan, that is your great weakness-yOur
mOdesty. There's nothing you mightn'tdo
/ if you believed more in yourself"
| The minister sighed.
] -
/ might not do if L believed more truly IN
the saving force Of my hi gher self-the
! self that was in Christ"
| They sat silent for some moments-she
on her footstool. he in his chair. Sudden
/ ly Rose clasped her hands before her.
| "Pm not afraid of her now" she said,
musingly.
Mr.. Keator said nothing. He was med
! itating anXiously.
Rose went to call on Constance and
Mrs. EchOls the following day. The fune-
raj cerements had been lifted from the
furniture, and the ladies had spent the
morning in finding a servant. In the dis
cussIOn of that privileged class, which
among women makes such d fortunate
stop-gap topic as men find in politics, the
three found ready road 10 good acquain-
lance. Rose told of her own trials with
1 Benicia in her vivaciOus fashion. Her
voice had at all times the rich English
tone, and in talking with those whom she
knew only slightly the invariable gentle
ness OF manner which accentuated her
charming liVeliness was emphasized. AS
she sat in her MOrayian costume upon the
sofa talking gayly, she reminded Con-
stance Of French painting she had once
seen. 1t represented a frOlicsOme peas
ant girl who had dressed herself as a nun
and was secretly exhibiting her prO1ane
masquerade to sympathetic group.
Not that the cap and kerchief and gown
of gray seemed discOrdant on the fair
figure before her; on the contrary, there
was both mysterious prOpriety in her
| dress and a justifying naturalness in
such manner as an accompaniment of it.
Constance did not understand it. She
recalled he old feeling about herself; that
her costume and her bearing refuted each
other. Yet Rose, who certainly had not
what the superficial observer would have
way to have succeeded in making her
dress and her manner very good friends.
Constance wanted to tell her that she
was fortunate. She was mpelled to this
wish the more by a feeling which had
come upon her at the moment OF her re-
turn TO idea. She experienced the SEN
sati0n she remembered upon TeVisiting a
school OF her childhood. 1t was first a
longing for the peace and ignorance of
past days, accompanied by strong feel
ing that she was UNNECESSARILY better
without them. Then she began to feel the
desire of her position to warn and en-
| courage. She felt almost as if she should
enjoy responding to the customary re-
quest IT, address the school" But she
restrained her inclination to congratulate
Rose, aud c0ntenJed herself with a kind
OF mdrveiin2 e5 jOyment OF the cOmbna-
ton of admirable qualities she offered.
Rose had not at all come to EXHIBIT her
self, ana she might have been mOdestly
troubled by COnst8nce's speCulatiOns if
she had been made acquainted with them.
Sle had called chiefly because she be
lieved that Mr.. EeatOr wished it, and also,
it must be owned, from an impulse Of Gu
riOSiiy TO know the girl who bad brought
sucn havoc to her brothers quiet life.
hose, being woman. was nothing If
not partisan, aEd ali her charity had not
awaited to bring hpr into a favorable mood
49, = A.. L..
| thinking Constance to blame in refusing
ner love to her brother, and in making the
happiness which might, nevertheless,
nave come to both Of them impossible by
her deafness to the warning that would
have prevented the rehuke ia the church.
! 1t was, therefore, with a species of re-
sentiul curiosity that she came to take a
| look al Constance. She meant merely to
take look and depart; but COnstance's
warm, pleased greeting, her frank readi-
ness to lik, her for her brOther's sake, her
ailurlng manner won upon her. She
could not resist the amiable thirst to be
| liked, which COnstance's face expressed
at the moment, and expressed so rarely.
Rose found herself fiattered out of her
umbrage, and at length found herself re-
pentantly endeavor,ng to do away with
the impression she innocently fancied her
first reserve might have created. They
talked of many matters, all of which
seemed to have some subtle relation TO
| Mr.. KeatOr; for Rose had the sense of his
centrality in the revolution of things
which we find so pretty in a young wife.
At last they came TO speak directly OF
tins subject of her elOquence and Rose
tried without the malice which must
| have tinged the effort few moments be-
fore, but very gently, to give her hearers
a sense OF his nobility. She could not resist
the glad feeling OF grahication which
celebration OF her brothers. virtues. 1t
overthrow and put tC shame all her Sc
cret theories, but in her pleasure she did
not mind that. She SAID with Daivete that
she could not imagine any one falling to
love him. Constance assented quickly,
and added that other men were like the
mediocre paintings touching which there
might be a thousand differences, but that
Mr.. KeatOr was like masters work
ABOUT which no one could hesitate. Then
at length Rose understood and came with
paug tor which she found no excuse to |
the entire comprehension that she had re- |
fused TO gain from her brothers. modes /
ty. Shb admired him-that was tad |
mired him distantly as she would work /
of art; her liking for him was for the |
easure which he gave her, not for the |
pleasure which she might give him, That |
was The essence of love and Rose per- !
ceiVed with a clearness against which |
there was nothing to urge, that there was |
not particle of that sentiment for him /
in her breast. Her brother had been per- |
fectly right; she esteemed him too much |
to love him. 1t seemed to her that she /
ought to be glad OF THE, and at least she |
relieved Constance of all TeprOach. This |
young lady TO whom she had come without |
amiability understood him; of that she |
was confident. And what could be more |
satisfyingG 1t was perhaps because she |
had chung until the moment with persist /
euce of romance to the hope that in spite |
of seeming obstacles all might yet work /
together fer their happiness with each |
other, that she experienced a twinge of |
reluctance in letting go her hold of the |
possibility. But she went home with a |
lighter heart than she had carried to the /
Old house, and she took an early Oppor- /
tunity to make certain admissions to her |
brother.
The human face, which is called ex- |
pressive, rather specifically registers the /
deeper feelings of any permanence. No |
one knew; even Rose, with all /
her sympathies stretched toward his |
trouble. dId not guess the rending pain /
that tortured every moment of Mr.. Kea- /
tors waking hours after COnstance's (
coming and haunted his dreams. He did /