The Memphis appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1886-1890, 1889-06-16

with" be said hoarsely, without looking
up. I've talked too much about it; Il
comes too nigh to me-" and he swallowed
painfully, as II the vision his memory
brought sutocated him. 81 kent say
nothin' iurder, only that the child was
saved an has always been sad like, an
I've been broken down man ever since, A"
and he got up and looked trembingly out
with something like sob shaking his
Elchard had said nothing as the story
progressed and the alternate surpes of an
ger and pity in his bosom had followed
each other with no sign upon the surface
save " tightening and trembling OF the fin
gers, clouds flying across the face and q
darkening and melting of the cye.
And when IL ended he still remained 81.
ient, but with tears slipping from under
the lashes OF his closed eyes. What could
be said2 What else given such folly and
suffering but tears? 1t was OF a piece with
other large examples OF abuse in the
worlds life. One with the hurting to-
gether OF countries in slaughter by design
ing tyrants; one with the enslaying OF
races by sleek opulence and greed; one
win combinations on the food for nations,
that a lew might live fatty at the expense
OF general hardship one with the stake, the
cnaln, almost the aesassin's knife, this
black abuse OF contdence--and yet, alas!
what else was there for II but tears? The
deceived, the foully injured, still chung to
the deceivor, still revered the destroyer,
still knelt to the idols that drowned them!
Aye, what could be said?
And what for tho nfIacto All 10 ,vaa nm,
with the trust of ignorance in all ages; one
with blind faith, one with the reliance on
a system in the stead OF reason and simple
righteousness. But what for the cause?
Alas, there was no penalty, no law with
which to blast il. Nothing but to leave il
TO the One In whose name II was perpe-
trated and TO the long verdict OF time; and
Paul Elchard, lying there, ground his teeth
in silence.
Then nearly two weeks fell away slug.
gisllly. Trcan kept about her work and
well under the shadow OF her heavy sad.
ness, coming not often into the room where
Elchard lay, and saying little upon such
entrances. The injured man, not knowing
OF the swinging over her OF this latter
cloud, laid, aud naturally. her enduring
somberness to the grief and horrors that
hung about her birth. His heart moved
toward her with tho thought. Day by
day she was melting into him, and he
could not put her back. She seemed like
twilight to his nature sad, soft and
beautifully sweet spreading slowly
throughout his being. II did not give him
joy, thrilling his soul upward into ecs.
tacy, like the Coming of love to many, but
pervaded him all day long like ten
der music, sorrowiul, haunting, but bring
ing holy pleasure. When he lifted his
eyes TO hers, the spirit Of this was in them,
and hers would flicker down and seem 10
swim in light MS she turned away. Once
he heard her break INTO song when out
among the flowers that was so mellow and
sweet II thrilled him othe heart; then tell
away 80 plaiutiyely his eyes were believed
and dim with pity. But she did not sing
again, as day after day he lay watching the
sunshine sleeping in soft flakes about the
threshold, or trembling into little heaps OF
untinckling coin rs the vine leaves stirred.
she kept herself apart. yet were they none
the less together.
Her father remained much among his
tiny fields, turning on the clear irrigating
water and fecbly hoe!ng the sandy loan
about his vegetables. He still brought the
sick man his dainty meals religiously, but
seemed depressed and talked but little.
DIR. Dubcttc came frequently, talked much
and turned his hard small eyes about, but
Trean remained 10 them invisible. Once
Orson Beam came too, inquired Of the sick
man his health, delivered a message from
the mines and went his way. Then news
came in by a neighbor that on the NOR
row, n Saturday, President Young would
visit the settlement, aud expectation rose
ON tiptoe.