Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-08-09

''Thcrc, don't tax on So" she said kindly.
There may be excuses for you. Old people
oughtnt to judge the young too severely"
TELL me all she said, every word" gasped
CarrutherS, He had forced the woman to
give him this bitter cup, and he meant to
drain it to the dregs
'Oh, poor dearl she told me nll Told me
how she had been forced to make her secret
known by my husbands claiming the child
My heart bled for her. She told me how no
one knew about the baby; how she should
have TO let all he revealed unless | helped
her. She tol III, how she had longed for
her child, and somehow, don't know
how, managed to get 1t to live with her or
near her o., it's such pretty boy! Such
pretty boy, sir"
Where can | find herr" asked Carruthers.
Not that he now hoped to learn.
Where. l suppose somewhere near the
child, down at BlacktOwn. You know the
righ won't you, silr
Yes" said Frank. II will do what is
right. Thank You. Good morning.
He left the room and departed by the way
he had come. Mrs. Rawlings returned to
her interesting occupations. She knew the
name n,.ther of her visitor nor of the lady
whom she had seen at Blacktown but to this
day, when she recalls the look of what she
believed to bc remorse on the young mans
face, she is happy in the thought that it may
- a few heartfelt and appropriate words,
though only spoken by a humble woman
like herself, helped on the great fight Of good
against evil, righted a wrong, and made
sister woman happier. May such mistake
occur to many of us. 1t causes consolation.
A worthy soul, Mrs. Rawlings. Never
theless we will now bid her adieu, and hope
that the business in Gray street continues TO
flourish.
Bu Frank Carruthers! Poor Frank whose
researches had led him into such straits.
Who had learned the terrible half truth
which by parolox is often greater than the
whole. Carruthers walked and walied-out
of Gray r radon and on-without heed
ing whittier Such grief as he felt to-day
was a new experience in a mans lie. When
some three months ago Beatrice tod him
she could not love him, the shock as we
know was great, but in spite of it Beatrice
was still the Beatrice of his dreams Then
there was hope; there is always hope
in such cases. But new monet Not vestige!
He laughed bitterly as he thought of the
hours he had spent endeavoring to find the
cause of what he had called Beatrice COM
plaint-of her general apathy and indifYer-
ence to the world at large. Now he had got
at the very germ Of the disease No wonder
she was cold and reserved with such secret
to carry-such q dread overhanging her
Poor girl! Poor grill
He coull see how the boys coming to
Hazlewood House had been arranged
Through Mrs. Miller, OF course And by his
new light he was able to explain a discrep-
ancy which had always troubled him On
ha irbt ,ha, ,h.,1 a.
the nurse had told him that Beatrice had
saved her years ago from starvation, where
as, Horace had told him, that until she came
to the house, she was stranger to them all
He had not thought it worth while to pursue
the inquiry.
She, this strangely hammered woman, had
made him promise to wait Wait for whatt
There was nothing 70 wait for Even IL he,
as he scornfuly told himself he could, should
forget his manhood and be willing to take
Beatrice as his wife even now, he knew that
barrier, never to be climbed, would be
raised by her. He did not wrong her in this
he knew that for all that had befallen she
was mourning in mental sackcloth and
ashes. He had no blame to give her. no
stone to cast
She hal not tried to win his love. She had
not accepted that love when offered. Too
well hs knew why. Yet he knew also that
she loved him--loved him but would never
be his. The thought drove him half mad.
No friond Of Carruthars' would have known
him, as, with heavy brows and bent head,
he walked through those quiet streets Of
suburban London.
But why the fight No new dread no
new danger could have threatened her Did
she after all fly because he was coming to
HAL II. l. g.
resolution must give way, and with ono
breath she must avow her love, and with the
next tell her lover that love could not he be-
tween themt No. A word from her would
have stayed his coming. She had even as
good as asked him to come. She was not
flying from him.
Then the thought Of that man who was
seeking her came TO his mind. He sbuddered
and bit his lip; he knew not why. But his
first thought was To trace this unknown man
and hear why he wanted Beatrice.
His mood changed. He would not seek
him. He had no more to learn After what
he had this morning heard all inquiries, all
information, could but tend to make him
more miserable. There was nothing now
left for him in the world but sheer hard
work. Work, work, work, tho greatest
blessing ever given TO man.
So he walkei on and on, almost crying In
his anguish almost raving in his utter help
lessness to mend matters. But all the while,
do " hat he 1ould 70 tear his idol out of her
shrine, thinking Of her as the calm, fair,
stately girl he had known and loved, the one
Of all the world against whom slander should
raise no voice.
Before his aimless walk was ended his
mood had grown soft and pitying. Anger
fHIe1 A