The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-01-02
ark line Of the water front.

away-never the same bouncing gal tha
used to 'liven up the old house like {
sunbeam. Twas that tux all the go ou
O. her. And I had to get to work anc
blame her for sulkin' when her heart WI!
breakin'."
He took the pipe from his mouth and
absently showed it in his pocket.
'It might a been all right" he went
on. "It might "a been all right eff
hadn't carried on as did till house and
shop and everything went to smash
But I had to keep a-goiu' while the
money lasted, and now-now," he
repeated with solemn inclination of the
head, ''it's gone"
He swung about to resume his lone.
some walk. but the glimmer in the cabin
brought him to standstill.
"She's there" he said, and there was
sorrow and remorse in his voice. "She's
there nussin' his baby and thinkin' of its
father; maybe cryin' her eyes out about
him. And she a-dyin' by inches"
The rumble of wagon came from the
land side, and the sound of horn away
off in the streets sent down to the silent
going on ashore. The man started as he
heard it.
"She won't be without her supper, u
he said" Not while this here toys lyin
around"
He groped moment in his pocket
and drew out ring-a plain gold cir
clet, evidently the symbol of consum'
mated union.
81 had to sneak it away unbeknownst
to her." he muttercd, turning the shin
ing trinket around in his fingers. 'l'm
afraid she'd take on deal if she knowed
it, for she hangs on to any keepsake OF
his for bare life. But what's the use"
And the ring and hand that held it went
down into the pocket again. "What's
the use O. bein' senteemental and snick-
erin over sich things when q square
meal can be got for it, and p'raps-
p'raps drop t. drive away the chill"
He glanced, half frightened, half
apologetically, at the little window as he
spoke, slipped carefully by on tiptoe as
though fearful of being confronted by
the occupant of the cabin. reached the
side, looked back again and then stepped
out upon the pier and SUNK away.
1t was only moments space afler
when there sounded among the low.
harsh whispers of the river something
that seemed deep in the darkness. but
not of it-something suggestive of heat
and light and home. and not of this
black food and these great marine phan-
toms standing so solemn in the gloom.
1t was the cry of child. Low and
weak, suppressed as soon as uttered,
it still had strange shrillness in the ST.
lent p ace, and of all the sad voices of
tide and timbers, it seemed by far the
saddest. 1t came from the cabin of an
old canal boat, came only for an instan.
and died away in what fancy involunta-
rily pictured q mothers kisses and ca
reSses.
Old Tom heard it half way up to the
wharf. He heard it and arrested his
cautious footsteps and brought his face
about in twinkling to the tiny-lightcd
space in the cabin that barely reached
his eye where he stood. The cry was
not repeated. But he stood there for
over n minute with his whole soul, it
seemed, intent upon that d m glimmer-
ing pane. His hand mechanically crop
ing in his pocket, touched the ring aud
it seemed 10 startle him. He took out
the little trinket and looked at it care
fully, as though making sure that it was
really there. and brushed it with q
rough, greasy sleeve. Then, without a
glance at the street on which he had
been walking, he passed back along the
pier, crossed TO the boat again and
walked stra ght up to the cabin and en-
tered.
A ships lantern hanging from the roof
showed a rough table, couple of boxes,
a tarpaulin, some ends of rope, and on a
loosened and slanting berth an infant
with woman kneeling beside it. 1t
was a pleasing face she turned up to the
old man rs he came in-peasng, and it
had been very prctty-but there was a
sad gauntness about it now and the
dark, tender eyes looked out from blue:sh
hollows.
"Where have you been, father?' she
asked. "Baby has been restless again.
Pm afraid that the child is growing
worse" This with look Of infinite
solcitude at the tiny creature beside
her. "And it's so hard to see the poor
dear suffering and be able to do moth.
ing. Why. father, what is the matter"
She might we'll ask. The poor man
was standing, with his head sunk upon
his breast, and great tears were rolling
down his faded checks. His eyes were
fixed upon the little cabin window, but
it was clear that his mind was far away.
He started as she spoke, and when he
answered it was in voice broken with
sobs.
"libbic," he said, "my poor gal, I've
been bad father TO you, rcg'Iar bad
'un, ain'tI2 I've ruined the little home
you oughter be in, and brought you and
your child to this. I know that amt
the wust, neither. driv him away that
would be support and comfort t'you,
and left that leetel creetur ithout a
father. I've done all that, and I was a.
goin to do more, God forgive me, this
yery night, only for hearin' your baby
erwin. I meant it for the best, did, but
knowed that it would a hurt your feel
in's wuss than anything else. There,
I.ibbic; take it. 1t was very nigh a-goin
as everything else has"
He held out the little gold ringto hel
and turned his head away. In an instant
the woman was on her feet. Her long,
thin hand clutched the bauble and hot
flush showed itself on her pallid, sunken
cheek.
"Father," she cried, "would you dareF
In her indignation she was speechless
for moment, but then she brake. down
and the tears came.