The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1886-11-04

shOy lhdhO AtC ~ W YEA WltQ CQ6ul-
well, I'm free to say 1 enjoyed it. I
had a queer fancy-sometimes, that
Mary had lived to marry me. that
Michael was her son and that the baby
they were expecting would be her
grandchild. That summer Michaelwas
on the boat most of the time, for we we're
short of hands. and he got a woman to
stay with Kathleen. Friday evening he
was to leave us at his home. Thursday
night he vas on watch, and 1 talked
with him on deck till past ten, then I
turned in l went on deck at twelve
again. and he wasn't there. Well, we
found him next morning in five foot of
water, just as peaceful as if he was
asleep. He had a big bruise on his head.
and the doctor said he must have been
careless about a bridge, struck it.. and,
half stunned, was Knocked into the
water.
"Ihad to go and tell Kathleen, expect
ing him home to stay. She didn't take
on much, but the poor little child was
born that night-without a father and
almost without a mother, too, for she
never could take to it, try her best. I've
tried to think it u many a time, and
all l a make of it is that she would 90
to Michael if she didn't feel she must
look after the child, and she almost
hates it for keeping them apart. AS
soon as she could move l sold the cabin
Tor Ler and brought them here to live
and since that baby was three weeks old
she's never spent a night off the 'Jen-
ME and SUSIE l never let Kathleen
work except for the child, and such little
odd things as muse her. You see how
tidy she keeps Hedeyetta, and just that
way she has always done her square
duty by the child-except the poor baby
doesn't know the feel of a mothers
love-"
"You have never let her miss it, cap
tain" the young man says, laying his
slender brown fingers on the hard,
knotty hand resting on the table; every
few children have such love and ten
derness as you give the little maid
there are not many in the world like
you. l am very glad 1 have you for a
friend. What supports themP"
Captain jenkins sallow skin turns
salmon color, he moves uneasily in his
chair, Withdrawing his fingers from the
caressing touch he would return if he
knew how Often and often he will thrill
with pleasure at the memory of it-of
the cordial tones that said more than
words. At present they make him in
tensely uncomfortable. ''Well." he
says, II sold the house for Them"
''Captain!" (The salmon deepens.)
'sWell," he says, with desperation,
1--WE a bit saved up and"
"Look here, captain, I'm a rich man,
a very rich one-1 haven't a chick or a
child belonging to me-little Hedeyetta
is almost as fond of me as I am of her.
l am going to put some money in your
bank for her, subject to your order, and
I want you to promise m besides that
if ever the little lassie needs a home or
a friend you will let me know"
"That won't be while l live" the
captain answered sturdily. '.but 1 like
you, Mr.. Viele, and if any thing should
ever be likely to happen to me, I'll take
you at your woodland you'll keep it,
too. if l know. any thing of men," he
adds maud, bly,, rising and walking
away. Left to himself Viele proceeds
to gathering up his sketches, his mind
travelling back, as always when touched
or softened, to his one Withheld happi-
ness, n unfulfilled hope. His mind
turns back three years, and he stands
once more in the ante-r- ON of the Salon
at Paris. He is but one of many in the
room, but not many wear his decora-
ton of honor-the few who share his
distinction are surrounded by admiring
and congratulating friends-he listens
to the babble of voices as he stands
alone. Suddenly a sweet young voice
falls upon his cal.
MAY l congratulate you upon your
success?-I am sotglad it was appreci-
ated.n
He looks down into a face sweet and
fresh as the voice, into grave, soft brown
eyes.
Thanks, you like my picturep" s.Ah,
more than lke-it is so very, very beau
tiful!" "Semany!" a horror-stricken
instant the crowd surges, and he turns
people he has been pushed against. As
he does SO he hears:
'Semany, how could you! you didn't
know him, what were you saying?"
s'Only congratulating that poor stran-
ger artist, the only one who hasn't a
friend to speak to him.
"Poor! Why that's Egbert Viele-
the rich young American-he knows
every body-he's a bowling swell and
all the girls are just crazy about him;
oh, Semany, you! of all girls!'
Egbert's hand is violently seized by a
stout compatriot, and yet in the midst
of a storm of words he manages to see
a distressed young face, crimsoned with
modification, to hear the sweet choked
voice say: 81 did not know, L never
would have" Then her companions
s'Oh, well, never mind, funny as it is, I
believe You, but nobody else would"
Fresh voices assail him, and when he
a look again, the face is gone-gone
For three years he has sought it far and
wide, has quietly pestered his friends
for information of-what? a tair girl
face? But so many girl faces are fair
the sweetest voice in the world? to his
ears, perhaps-.Semanyp" his one real
clue, but, remembering the shrinking
distress in the young face, he can not
use it. And dreaming now, he is vio-
lently aroused to hear that s.I1ere is Al
bany, and Oh, Mr.. BERTHE, please come
back" Almost by force he loosens at
last the clinging arms and lovingly
parts from his baby friend. Hedeyetta.
Eyes, 1t Is a most beautiful and salts
factory charity. When they talk of the
Cathedral, or even the school, l say
Yes, that's all very well, but the Bish-
OPP will live forever in the hearts of men,
not as the builder of the one, or the
originator of the other, but as the
founder of the children's hospital"
The speaker is a handsome, positive
looking woman, engaged in showing
Albany to a couple of strangers. Her
immediate companion is a quiet, digni-
fed woman in mourning garb, which
one a easily see is for life. Of the
two girls behind. one is sufficiently like
the speaker Qess the positive air) to be
recognized as her daughter, the other
is a fair, slender girl, with soft, dreamy
brown eyes. They have been all owe