Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1888-11-15
A FAMILY AFFAIR.
BY HUGH CONWAY.

CtAI Eli AAAlll (CONTINUED).
London at last. Sarah Miller stepped
from the train, and once more stood on
the platform which she had quilted rather
more than three days before. 1t was now
past three o'clock in the morning. Width
en- should she turn? She sood hesitHting
and bewildered.
There was one thing more which she
had settled to do. What was it? Oh,
those wheels those wheels, will they new
er stop? She pressed her fingers to her
temples, and strove to recall what resolu-
ton had slipped from her mind.
All, now she remembered what ii was.
Her money, she must get rid of that She
had no further neel of money now that
she had reached the final goal. In her
pocket Were both German and English
coins. She collected them and creeping
stealthily to the box which stands await
ing contributions for some. doubtless,
very deserving charity, she dropped III
every coin that was upon her person.
This done, she believed there was nothing
left which could in any way show who
she was or whence she came.
She passed out under tho archway, a
solitary, darkrobed figure with a head
bent as in grief. She passed from the
ghas.ly white glare of electric lamps into
me way up the Strand. then, without
any definite aim. turned to the right an d
by and by found herself on the embanE-
ment.
Still S e wandered On until she reached
Waterloo bridge. She went half way
across then stoppei short and gaZed
over the parapet INTO the river. But no
thought of sef-deStruction had entered
into her head, although the red !. ght was
still before her eyes, the wild rush still
sounding in her ears, and those fearful
iron wheels in her brain circing more
rapidly than ever No the river had for
her but the attraction which a smooth
calm peaceful stream has for all who are
in deep distress. SO she looked and looked;
even craned over the parapet to perrin o
its sOmber, placid depths.
At that moment binding light flashed
upon her eyes and hand grasped her
shoulder VOW none of that nonsense, "
said a sharp voice-ihe voice of police
man who had seen her dark form against
the stonework of the bridge. The woman
turned her face to his, and the anguish
written upon it persuaded the constable
that he had arrived Just In the nick of
time.
"River air s bad at night for such as
you, he said in kind voice. "Now you
go straight home like good woman. Ill
see you safe of the bridge. You can go
from which end you like, but If you stay
here any longer well, must run you in. I"
She cl sped her hands. 81 am mad!"
she cried in piteous, imploring tones.
Cant you see | am mad? Take me and
put me where mad people are sent to-"
Strange as a confession Of insanity
seemed. the puzzled policeman was bound
to take her at her word, the more so be-
cause she would not or could not give any
account of herself, or name any place of
residence. So she was led away, docile
captive, and spent the rest of the night,
o. rather morning under detention.
Mad or not she believed her work was
now done; belle ed that she would be he
slowed where her mistre woul never
find her, never hear of her. Mad or not
her one concentrated aim was to keep the
secret Of the way in which Maurice Her.
vey died. If mad, the poor wretch's cum
ming had all but supplied the place Of
reason.
All but, for as usual it had forgotten
one important thing. Unles Beatrice
was informed of her husband s
death, unless that death were
proved beyond doubt, Sarah Mil
ler's crime would be useless and her sac
rifce futile.