Sacramento daily record-union., 1889-08-31
A GOOD MANS DILEMMA.

10 as Archdeacon Yale OF Sudbury, II
Gloucestershire, who had taken breakfas
at the Atheneum, walked down the steps
eastward-bound. He was man Of fresl
complexion and good presence; of toler
able means and some reputation as th'
author of curiously morbid book, "Timor
Defended" As he walked briskly alons
an unopened letter which peeped from hi
pocket seemed-and rightly-to indicate {
man free from anxieties; a man almost
without care.
But before he left the dignifed stiffness
of Pail Mall, he found leisure to read this
81 inclose," wrote his wife, "a letter which
came for you this morning. trust
Cyprian, that you are not fretting about
the visitation question, and get your meal,
fairly well cooked" The Archdeacor
paused at this point and smiled family al
some pleasant reminiscence. "Give my
love to dear Jack. Oh-h'm-I do moi
recognize your correspondents handwrit
ing"
"Nor do !" said the Archdeacon aloud
and he opened the inclosure with curiosity
that had in it no fear of trouble. After
glancing at the signature, however, he
turned into side street and read the let
ter through. He sighed. "Oh dear, dear p'
he muttered. "What can | do? | must
go! There is no room for refusal. And
yet-oh dear after all these years. No.
IA Sidmouth street, Grays Inn Road ?
What placer
1t was shabby third-rate lodging house
place, as perhaps he knew. But he called
cab and had himself driven thither with
out delay. AT the corner of the street he
dismissed the cab, and looked about him
furtively. For man who had left his
club so free from care, and whose wife at
Sudbury and son at Lincoln's Inn were
well, he wore an oddly anxious face. 1t
could not be-for he was an Archdeacon-
that he was about to do anything of which
he was ashamed. OF course not. Bishops
and others of that class may be open to
temptations, or have pages of their lives
folded down which they would not wish
turned. But an Archdeacon? Oh, no.
Yet when he was distant house or so
from No. IA he started guiltily at very
ordinary occurrence-nothing more than
the arrival of hanson cab at the door.
True, young woman descended from it,
and let herself into the house with latch
key. But young women and latch-keys
are common in London, as common as-as
dirt. 1t could hardly be that which dark
ened his face as he rang the bell
In the hall, where a dun was sitting.
there was little to remove any prejudice he
may have conceived little, too, in the
dingy staircase, numbered with plates and
stale food or in the frst-hoor rooms from
which someone peeped and another whis-
pered, and both giggled or in that second
foor room, at once smart and shabby, and
remarkable for many photographs of one
young girl, where he was hidden to wait
little or nothing. But when he had pished
and pshawed at the tenth photograph. he
was called into an inner room, where a
strange silence prevailed. Involuntarily
he stepped softly. "It was kind of you to
come" some one said-some one who was
lying in great chair brought very near to
the open window that the speaker might
breathe more easily-"very kind. And
you have come so quickly, too"
81 have been in London some davs," he
answered gently, the fastidious expression
gone from his face. "Your daughters let
ter followed me from the country and
reached me only an hour ago. 1t has been
no trouble to me to come. am only panied
at finding you so ILL.,
"Ahp she answered. Doubtless her
thoughts were busy; while his flew back
nearly thirty years to a summer evening.
when he had walked with her under the
trees in Chelsea Gardens and heard her
pour into his ear-she was young actress
then in the first blush of success-all her
hopes and ambitions There was nothing
in the memory of which he had need to be
ashamed In those days he had been read
ing for orders, and, having lodgings in
respectable street, came by chance to know
two of his neighbors-her mother and her
self. The two were living a quiet, domes-
tic life, which surprised and impressed
him. The girls talent and the contrast
between her notoriety and her simple ways
had certain charm for him. For some
months the neophyte and the actress were
as brother and sister But there the feel
ing stopped and when his appointment to
a country curacy closed this pretty episode
in his life, the exchange of n few letters
had but added grace to its ending.
Now old feelings rose to swell his pity
as he traced the girls features in the
woman's face. You have a daughter.
he said.
ayes. It's for her sake have troubled
you," was the answer "She is a good
girl-oh, so good But she has no one in
the world except me, and l am leaving her.
Poor Grissel?'
"She is on the STAGE he inquired
gravely.
Yes; and she has succeeded young, as
gether You remember the life my mother
and | led? l think it has been the same
with us again"
She smiled ever so little. He remem-
bered something Of the quiet pathos of
that life.
"Your husband is dead ?" he asked.
"Dead No; | wish he werew she an
swered bitterly, the smile passing from her
face on the instant. Ny girl had better
by far be alone than with her father. All,
you do not know When he went to
America years ago, with another woman,
1 thanked God for it. Dead? Oh, no
There is no chance that he is deadp
Mr. Yale was shocked. You have not
got a divorce?" he said.
"No. Until last year, when GriSsel
made good engagement, we were very
poor Then | fell i'll, and there were ex-
penses We had to come here Now that
her name is known he will come back and
find her out She plays as Kittie Latouche,
but the profession know who She is, and
and what can | do? Oh, Mr. Yale! tell
me what | can do for her"
Her anxiety unnerved him. Her ter
Tor Of the future, not her own, but her
child's, wrung his heart He had pre-
sentiment whittier she was leading him,
and he tried to murmur some common
place of encourag cement.
'You may yet recover" he urged. "At
any rate, there will be time to talk of this