Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1889-12-04
For the SPECTATOR.
THOSE BROWN EYES.
BY EMMA HOWARD WIGHT. !


Selwyn Drummond drew his -bordered
overcoat closer about him as he came out
of the Club into the biting cold Of the
December night.
"Ugh," he murmured, Zone begins to
feel the cold when ones years border on
sixty"
A ragged newsboy pushed forward from
the bottom of the Club steps. =
''Please, sir, buy paper"
eyes, give me the World" replied
Drummond. He plunged his hand into his
pocket, paid for the paper, strobe on, and
was about to enter his carriage, when the
footman stopped him.
''If you please, SIR" he said, quickly,
"when you paid that boy you drew out
bank-note which he picked up and is
making off WITH
An angry exclamation left Drummond's
lips; turning quickly he hastened after the
boy, and laid his hand, heavily, on his
shoulder.
''No, you young scamp" he said, stern.
ly, "where is that money you picked up?"
A great gasp left the boys lips, and he
stared up into Drummond's face with two
great brown eyes, wild and dilated with
terror. Then he, silently, extended one
thin, trembling hand, crushed up in which
coolly.
$50, my youthful thief. Well, I'll turn
you over to policeman"
A look of mortal fear and agony settled
over the boys face. He flung himself down
on his knees at Drummond's feet
ooh. no. no, sir, don't do that" he
cried, fplease listen to me. Its the first
time l ever stoled; indeed, indeed, it is.
and it was for mother. She's very sick
and there's no fire at home nor nothing to
eat. only thought of her when / took
thu money, but if you send me to Jail she
may die there all alone. Oh, please, sir,
lot me CO."
Drummond looked down, unmoved, on
the white, wan, anguished face.
eyes" he sid, ''it's always a story of
that kind. have no doubt you are an old
hand both at thieving and the pathetic
business also and week or so in Jail wont
do you any harm. Here officer" to an ap-
preaching policeman, ''this young scamp,
l caught in an attempt to steal. l deliver
him into your hands,"
The boy, suddenly, sprung up and made
dash away, but the officer was too quick
for him and caught him. The boy then
struggled with desperate intensity to break
away, but in vain, and Drummond turned
away, with a cool laugh, as the officer Sc
cured him. Drummond then entered his
carriage and gave the order, 'home."
Home to that stately, lonely house. Why
do it's loneliness and emptiness strike its
master 30 forcibly tonight as he sits in his
luxurious library? Lonely and silent with
all its grandeur. And, yet, once a merry,
girlish voice echoed through its stately
rooms and lofty corridors. Once that door
used to be pushed open by a dainty, little
hand, graceful figure steal to his side,
soft arms wind themselves about his neck.
Bah! whence come these thoughts? He
had forgotten be ever had daughter, for
she had disobeyed him, taken another and
unwise love, made her choice, and, in his
wrath and pain, he had banished and cursed
her. But, ah he had dearly loved her.
How fair and sweet she had been; how like
her dead motherl How he had loved to
hear her sweet, low voice murmur,
"father, dear father"'
How white she had been that day when
he cursed her; how wild and anguished her
brown eyes. Those brown eyes, those
brown eyesl All, now he understands
why she SO haunts him to night. The eyes
of that thieving newsboy were so like hers,
SO like hers! What had he said? 81 did it
for mother, she is very sick, and there is
no fire nor anything to eat. If you send
me to Jail she may die there all alone."-
Pshaw, what foolish thoughts are these9
he is really getting morbid, and all because
he fancies that boys eyes looked like hers
the day he cursed her. The boy was only
one of the city's young reprobates, and
well deserved his punishment. Yet, he
might have spoken truly; for the sake of
those brown eyes he wishes he had not been
so hard. For his heart has been softening
all these years, and tonight wild longing
possesses him to find his daughter, to take
her back to his heart and home again. He
will begin the very next day to search for
her. Money can do much; it may not be
very long before be will hold her again in
his arms, and hear her sweet voice murmur,
''father, dear father" He .forgets the
thirteen long years that have passed, and
pictures her still as fair, young girl, With
the light Of happiness in her brown eyes
But that boy? Well, for his own salts
faction he will fad out whether he spoke
the truth.
He rang the bell and when the footman
appeared, gave him certain instructions,
the result of which was that in something
over an hour the footman ushered in the
ragged newsboy. Drummond paused in
his restless walk, and stood regarding him,
for a few moments, in silence. How
strangely out of place he looked in his
rags in that luxurious room. His head, a
brown curly head, dropped upon his breast,
10 the hopeless apathy of despair; his face
bore traces of long and bitter weeping
Drummond went nearer to him.
s'You remember the story you told me
about sick mother? Well, am going to
give you chance to prove the truth of it.
You can go to this mother of yours and l
will 60 with you."
The boy flung up his head; into his
brown eyes leaped a look of increduious
rapture; his breath came in one great
painting gasp.
81 can go,to ny mother,' he repeated,
in dazed voice; then he made one bound
to the door, opened it and darted out
Drummond followed, catching up his over
coat and hat from the hall-rack. He
sigued for the butler to open the door, and
The boy rlshed out into the night. With
difficulty Drummond followed in bis flying
footsteps. The night was still bitterly
cold, the moon shining brightly. Soon
they had lef6 the streets of the rich and
penetrated into the dark and gloomy ones
Of Re poor. Then IN little while Drum
fl,a hon he,