The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-02-06

hagam cnce more lo show some coasecnr tive consciousnass of tho shAdowinass d her life, and Co revolt against the 'tAings it compelled her to be and to do. Then she recognized my presence. and-thoagA she did not speak to me-looked at mo often with mingled humiliation and re- proach {; as if ashamed that should SC the things she was forced to do, and yet indignant that should have left her with no choice but to do them
 1t was long before she attempted to speak to me again, or to take that place of leader and advocate which had been hers before. She vas too proud to appeal for herself. And at first too mis- erable to appeal for others. Meanwhile it was my fate to watch, from hour to hour, so many creatures go helplessly on the way marked out by the caprice of e mans fancy to inevitable sorrow.
 could not interfere, could not in6u- ence-l was entirely outside but week s ~atchiag made me feel like Dante in his journey through the Inferno D; or worse than that, like brute who Is beguiling helpless creatures into torture for some purpose of hts own.
 rad forgotten my own future; l had forgotten Alison struggled only with the one thought that these victims were Wilirid Gale s, and not mine :; that had no right to interfere and put an end to their sorrows. This was the argument with which lulled my conscience, or fought against my temptation on-whichever way you like to put it.
 Alter many days of the struggle felt quite broken down all power of resist Ance seemed to have gone from me; l must yield, or once more like a coward find safety in flight.
 "lt is enough" felt inclined to cry the brightness of life is gone forever il 1 must buy it at the price ot this know ledge. will have DO more of it." And then knew that for the first time since my return my old guide waited for me, patiently, quietly: and that, how ever much might desire to refuse must get up and follow her.
 She led me out to the lake, and there, as we stood beside the shining water, bright with gleamipg moonlight, be- came aware of a presence near us. It was the girl whom had first seen the night before 1 fled from Alderth waite.
 She had her baby in her arms, and she bent over it, speaking to it softly.
 Little baby,' she said, in her child like voice, he will not come back to us any more and my mother is dead, and my father will never forgive. If left you to grow up as did, would you leave me for some one who did not care much, as left my mother, and should have 10 die alone2 Little baby, it Is better to die now-now before your heart Is bro ken as mine is; before you break some one else s, as did. It is not worth while living 1t is better to die. The trouble IS so long. and the happiness, so short She spoke pleadingly, as if the child could understand and might reproach her for what she meant to do, rocking Il gently all the while iu her arms am hungry, baby, and very ill. When you wake you will cry because have so httlE food to give you. It is better never to wake, never to feel any more"
 She stopped with shuddez, and looked round as If frightened, and saw then how thin she was, and how wan her cheeks
 It is dreadful to do it myself" she said in low voice :" # some one would only do It for me and never know, as can do It for baby. Oh, if he would not give me the means to live, he might have given me death instead but must seek that for myself, even that"
 1 Sac seemed to be relcoting in her pur- pose, and looked back along the path by which she had come; but the child stirred in her arms and uttered a faint moan, more pitifal to hear than any cry She ,eut over it with passionate kisses, and said {" 1 will do it, baby, for your sake 1 will not be afraid"
 She laid 1t down then, vezy gently and carefully, in beat moosod to the beach. With her wasted fingers she undid the fastening and put tAe oars into their places; then slswiy and painfully, she began to ro~ into tho dscpx waiaz. SAs passed once amoag the watcr lilies and looked at her baby, as if she tsought q laying htm down among their rooss but she remembered the uncertainty of hes own resolssi0n and wess further away tron tho shsee In the ssn, desp wa,sr near tho cessnx ol the lake she stood up, letting tho oars fall away out of hex reach. She took the baby up and TO mained for moment, dark. straiRh. figure In the moonlight; the boat had drtned utSle, the oars were black lines some feet away. Then she held out the child suddenly at arms lcngh, uttezing a strange. despairiDg cry, which was no appeal for heap bot rather protest aAd last declaration of pain to tho indiffer- ent universe. The cry rang down the lake, and the fells cast |, back It was followed by splash. She had opened her arms and let the child fall into the water.
 A strange thing followed. She had evidently meant to spring in after her baby, but now her courage failed her, and she covered down shuddering in the boat. Then she leaned over and tried to reach the oars, but they were too far away afteT that she burst into 6t of bitter sobbing, ard covered her face with her hands, longing perhaps for courage to 6nish what she had begun.
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