Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1885-02-15

! he had used or liked things that he had
/ bought for her-all were vocal with his
! presence. This presence was Oftenest
/ her joy, but 3 times her torment. She
| hal not constantly the sense of it. 1t
| came and went; and sometimes she wished
! that she might either always feel that he
was with her or reach the awful under
standing Of his absence. But she could
not bring herself % a belief in the posi-
0ility Of the latter, even when the void
came upon her most grieVOusly. She had
lost her mother while little more than q
: child. Her memory told her Of nothing
like her present feeling; she had had the
Z child's unconscious hardness, its blessed
! insensiOilitYS and now she sometimes
thought she had the child's iucomprehen-
sion. Her cry as she hung above her dead
father had been sit cannot be! Oh. do
not understand" And now she muir
INJURED constantly 81 do not understand.1
A wagon. ratified down the long street;
as the sound passed a boy went by whis-
Ting. How can they 2" was her thought.
Chow dare they ~ The world was de-
populated yet things went on as usual.
Her first intelligent feeling as she came
out OF the uureasOning maze which fol-
1 lowed ner bereavement had been that
! horror OF the usual, the shock of seeing
/ the worlds people about the worlds ordi-
nary business. When they brought her a
newspaper she had half wondered that it
was still published, and immediately
scOFned the faulty with characteristic
energy. Nevertheless, such thoughts
| came upon her from time to time irresist-
IDLY, and she was glad at the moment OF
! the rescue which she saw coming toward
/ her in the form of Mr.. Keator.
/ His cTutcb sounded sharply on the
| gravel as he limped down the walk. He
/ looked more than usually thin and frail
/ as he leaned against the post at the arbOr
I entrance his face with tho cuoiIo II bfob
he kept for her half toward the mellow
light.
"Have you thought that 1 neglected
| yOuw he asked as she took his hand and
| motiOned him to a seat. opposite on the
| bench which ran around the 2rbor.
Constance closed her book and, setting
it upright on her knee, clasped both hands
upon it. No, l hadn't thought that"
she answered.
''It may have seemed strange l haven't
| come, but-but thought l knew YOU"
you were right"
~ thought you would bear it best alone;
/ one must be very near-even a minister
to give real help" His voice grew husky.
! Il feared was not near enough" he said
! so gently that she scarcely heard.
"Don't think 1 didn't understand your
! delicacy. 1 am always prOstrating my
| self before it,"
! "You make me say that it was not alto
/ gether that. | was troubled. had not
! confidence to meet you"
! Constance took up some knitting which
| lay beside her and putting "a Kempis"
aside studied it attentiyely.
| Il can't say how glad L am that you
| have found it,"
"What?' asked he absently.
coincidence to see me again. / depend
u pom your visits, you know. l should not
know what to do If you abandoned me-"
! she told him seriously.
! He took heart from her mood. "What
can say? You are very good"
| Gam IL BY contrast, perhaps" A fly
made her shake her head impauently. Il
have always been 50 far from that to you"
Il am sure you have never meant"
| "TO be unkInd? No. L suppose not.
| But it comes to the same thing.
| Ii had meant it l ought to be able to find
| some justification for it, but to intend the
! best and always,-Ah | have not treated
you we'll MIR. Keatorl' She bent her head
and knitted inGustriOusly.
| at has been my fault;" he said eager
| ". How could you when"
She was finding trouble with dropped
stitch. 1t was full minute before she
! said with a brave tremOr in hr voice,
! "Befort- my father died, Mr.. Keator-he
| spoke of you. He said be wished" she
! paused TO conquer her tears. "Mr. March
! Is gone. Do you remember my saying
! Mr.. Heater" declared she incOheTently,
| 81 absolve you from your pPJmiseP She
! took up her needles hastily.
He looked at her for a moment in stupid
! Joy and wonder. Then he drew himself
! upon his crutch and went over as swiftly
as ne might 10 where she sat bIushing
! holly. He took her band INTERESTINGLY TO
his lips and kissed it. AS ne let 1t slowly
fall he sought her eye, but she would not
! look up.
An, l had not confidence for this!''
! The fond hope in his pale face fascinated
! her as she met his eye. For a moment
| she was ImpOtent to set him rIgbs.
ION, Mr.. KeatOr; l am afraid do not
mean as much rs you Think
He retredted step on his crutch.
''What is 1t that you meant" he asked,
sOemnlY.
DON'T make it a questions it is hard
enough as it ssh down please and
will try TO tell you" she said gently. He
found his way in maze to his former
seat. For moment he bent his always
kindly gaze upon her. II was richly eX-
pTessIve-too expressive tor Constance,
VINO turned away from it quickly.
'COnsJance," said he at length slowly,
eve must end this; l have been panied
and harassed by it-Jhdt is nothing. But
tor your sake-I will not 90 on troubling
you about it, 81 feel your generosity,
your torbearance; have always felt them.
/ nope l begin TO repay them by saying
that l am inclined to obey my lather's
wish" She expected him t. rise, to
make some positive demonstration. He
merely strOYe to keep the fearful JOY out
of his eyes and asked Der calmly, lis it
more than obedience? Do you wish itp
81 have said that my inclination went
with it, she answered, reasonably.
He got up now and came over to her.
Dearest, let us understand each other
this time. Do you love meW
''Dun'tl' she begged.
A groan escaped him. Il might have
knoWn!"
She rose suddenly and stood beside him.
son give me tImel | don't know. II
must examine myself. You may say PVe
had time; no, not really. l have always
shrunk from considering it; now l will
try to think" She paused and after a
moment her hand stole to his shoulder.
sMr. Keator, you know that l admire and
respect YOU" she said with kind OF
gentle pleading in her voice that was new
to him. 81 feel your NOBILITY, your good
ness, your unselfshness. No one could
fail to see them. But suppose should
feel them more than any one else," she
said with whimsical sadness. 81 should
be willing TO suffer all for my love OF
them"
"Ah, COnstancep
"Mr. Keator, take me as l am; surely if
do not feel toward you as l ought l
should learn to-"
He yeaTned toward her,
but sternly forbade himself. He was
evidently suffering bitterly. "Why do 1
not?7 he cried. He turned haggardly to-
ward her with an irresistible impulse.
she kept him from ser with a gesture
while she pursued her thought. Father
would have had it so, ''she murmured. mir
KeatOr," she said, hesitatingly, ''let us
leave it with a higher wisdom. You have u
custom-yOu marry by lot, do you nOt?'
sit would have to be SO in any eyentv
said he, leaping glOOmily forward with her
thought.
Would itl then so much the better.
You believe that Heaven orders the re-
suit, do you nOty' appealed she with the
soft dignity which was not commonly
opposed. But she turned away with vivid
blush as he confronted her at last.
"Oh, Constance, how can l say itf 1t
can't be, my girl, it can't be; sit down
and let me tell YOU" His tace was
drawn in agony.
1--WE can never marry" She turned a
wondering face to his. "What l said to
you the other day, the day your poor
father died, was madness. knew it and
was not able TO check the sin. For the
moment it ruled me; could not get away
from it. Constance, you have immense