Jefferson jimplecute. [volume] (Jefferson, Tex.) 18??-189?, 1889-07-10
,ERsoN, TEXAS, WEDNESDAY, JULY 10, 1889.

ment she dared to close her hot
and weary eyes, she saw through
the darkness light, a fierce light,
red like blood, and drawing nearer
and nearer.
But in spite of all this she was
able to take her seat in the train,
able to exult that she had found
the strength to bear her so far; able
to pray that her strength might
last until she once more stood in
London. Then, all would be safe.
No matter what became of her
then. The work was finished, what
did the future of the tool matter
The train left Munich, and as it
steamed out of the fine station,
the woman yelled her face with
her black shawl. In spite of her
conviction that she had bnt exc
cuted pre-ordained task, she dared
not look upon the spot where she
had knelt on the previous night.
Miles and miles passed before she
removed the sombre covering from
her white worn face. AS the train
hurried on the wheels within her
brain whirled faster and faster, the
rushing sound grew stronger, and
the fierce red light shone redder,
iercer and nearer.
Save for such inquiries as the
exigency of the journey forced her
to make, and such speech as was
necessary to procure the food and
drink which nature absolutely de-
handed, the woman spoke no word
during that long journey back.
Except that now and again she
pressed them to her brow, in
vain endeavor to stop the wheels
which whirled in her brain, her
thin hands were forever clasped
beneath her dark shawl. She sat
and stared into vacancy. How
could she close her eyes, when do
ing so at once brought the red
light before them F.?
For all she knew that journey
might have lasted months or years.
Periods of time meant nothing to
her now Eternity, not Time, lay
before her.
The long journey by land, the
shorter Journey by Sea, passed like
protracted yet incoherent dream.
All she knew OF cared to know
was that she was speeding on to
London. AT last the sound of
English voices, the sight of Eng
fish faces, told her she had reached
the last stage of the journey.
Then she reused herself and made
her final preparations
She searched her pocket, and
tore into small bits every piece of
paper it contained, so that no writ
ten word could be left to give clue
to her identity. Last Of all she
drew from an evelope a photo
graph of Beatrice. She gized at
it long and passionately, and then
with deep sigh tore it across and
across, and threw the pieces to the
winds. She dared not even keep
this poor relic of her darling.
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.
Whittier should she turn. She
stood hesitating and bewildered.
There was one thing more which
she had settled to do. What was
it. Oh those wheels, those wheels,
will they never stop! She pressed
her fingers to her temples, and
strove to recall what resolution
had slipped from her mind.
All, now she remembered what
it was. Her money, she must get
rid of that. She had no further
need of money now that she had
reached the final goal. In her
pocket were both German and
English coins. She collected them
and creeping slealthily to the box
which stands awaiting contribu-
tons for some, doubtless, very de-
serving charity, she dropped in
every coin that was upon her per-
son. This done, she believed there
was nothing left which could in
any way show who she w:s or
whence she came.
She passed out under the arch
way, solitary, dark-robed figure
with head bent as in grief. She
passed from the CHASTITY white
glare of electric lamps into the all
but deserted Strand. She walked
some way up the Strand, then,
without any definite aim turned to
the right and by and by found her.
self on the embanllment.
Still she wandered on until she
reached Waterloo Bridge. She
went halfway across it, then stop
ped short and gazed over the para
pet into the river. But no thought
Of self-destruction had entered into
her head, although the led light
was still before her eyes, the wild
rush still sounding in her ears, and
those fearful iron wheels in her
brain circling more rapidly than
ever. No, the river had but for
her 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 peer into its
sombre, placed depths.
AT that moment binding light
flashed upon her eyes and a hand
grasped her shoulder. ''Now none
of that nonsense" said sharp
voice-the voice of u policeman
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 per-
shaded the constable that he had