The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-11-10
CHAPTER XVII
RUTH POWLETT CORFESSES.

81 was IuSb W oCO JOAs NIL
Armstrong, if you can spare minute"
az can spare an hour-I can spare the
,vbole morning, Mr. Powlett. have ceased
.o be a working bee, and my time is at your
disposal"
aWeI. thought would just step over
and speak to you," Hiram began, in a slow.
,,rvzlad sort of way. "You know what 1
was telling you the other day about my
girl!" ,on,hor v0ru r.,,n
"You don't know. Mr.. Armstrong,
whether she has said anything to your
daughter"
If Mary said that they were talking to-
Cether. and something was said about Miss
Tarne's murder; that your daughter turned
verv pale. and that she thought she was 60
ing to faint"
aTbat,s it: that's it, Hiram said, stroking
his chin thoughtfullv, "that murder is at
the bottom of it. Hesba thinks it must be
that any talk about it brings the scene back
4, her but it does not seem to me that that
accounts for it all, and would give a lot to
know what is on the girls mind. She came
in Yesterday afternoon as white as a sheet,
and tainted right off at the door, /
SHOULDN'T think SO much of that, because
she has often tainted since her illness, but
that wasn't all. When her mother got her
round she went upstairs to her room, and
didn't come down again. There is not
much in that, you would say. After girl
mad tainted she likes to lie quiet bit; but
she didn't lie quiet. We could hear her
walking up and down the room for hours,
and Hesba stole up several times to her door
and said she was sobb;ng enough to break
her heart. She is going about the house
again this morning, but that white and still
ii is cruel to look at her. So thought after
breakfast that would put on my hat and
come and have talk with you, seeing that
YOU we're good enough TO be interested in
her. You will say it's a wrong thing for a
father to come and talk about his daughter
to man he hasn't known more than two
months. | feel that myself, but there is no
one in the village l should like to open my
mind to about Ruth, and seeing that you
are father of girl about the same age, and
that feel you are a true sort of man, I
come to you. 1t isn't as if thought that
my Ruth could have done anything wrong.
If did, would cut my tongue out before
l would speak word. But l know my
Ruth. She has always been good girl
not one of your light sort, but earnest and
steady. Whatever is wrong, it's not wrong
with her. l believe she has got some
secret or other that is just wearing her out,
and if if we can't get to the bottom of it l
don't believe Ruth will see Christmas" and
Hiram Powlett wiped his eyes violently.
Believe me, l will do my best to find it
out if there is such secret, Mr.. Powlett. L
feel sure from what 1 have seen of your
daughter that if a wrong had been done of
any kind it is not by her. l agree with you
that she has a secret and that that secret is
wearing her out. l may say that my
daughter is Of the same opinion. l believe
that there is struggle going on in her mind
on the subject, and that if she is to have
peace, and as you say, health, she must IN
burden her mind. However, Mr.. Powlett
my advice in the matter is, leave her alone.
Do not press her in any way. think that
what you said to me before is likely to be
verified, and that if she unburdens herself
it will be to Mary; and you may be sure
whatever is the nature of the secret my
daughter will keep it inviolate unless it is
Ruth's own wish that it should be told to
othersn
"Thankee, Mr.. Armstrong, thankee
kindly; feel more hopeful now. I have
been worrying and fretting over this for
months. till can scarce look after my work,
and catch myself going on drawing at my
pipe when it's gone out and got cold. But 1
think it's coming on, think that crying last
night meant something one way or the
other. Well, we shall see; we shall see. |
shall be off back again to my work now; I
feel all the better for having had this talk
with you. Hesba's good woman and she
is fond of the child; but she Is what she
calls practical-she looks at things hard and
straight and sensible, and naturally she
don't quite enter into my feelings about
Ruth, though she is fond of her too. Well,
good morning, Mr.. Armstrong; you have
done me good, and do hope that it will turn
out as you say, and that we shall get to know
what is Ruths trouble"
An hour later, Mary Armstrong went
down to the mill to inquire after Ruth She
found her quiet and pale.
II am glad you have come in, Miss Arm
strong, Hesba said, "our Ruth wants cheer
Ing up bit. She had a faint yesterday
when she got back from your place, and she
is never tit for anything after that except
Just to sit in her chair and look in the fire. I
tell her she would be better if she would
rouse herself"
But one cannot always rouse oneself,
Mrs. Powlett," Mary said; land l am sure
Ruth does not look equal to talking now
However, she shall sit still, and l will tell
ner story. | have never told you yet that
l was once carried off by the Kaffirs, and
mat worse than death would have fallen
me, and that l should have been afterward
tortured and killed, if 1 had not been res
cued by brave man."
"Lawk- a-mussy, Miss Armstrong, why
you make my flesh creep at the thought of
such thing. And you say it all happened
70 you! Why, now, to look at you, should
nave thought you would hardly have known
mnat trouble meant, you always seem SO
bright and happy; that's what Ruth has
SAID, again and again."
You shall judge for yourself, Mrs. Pow
iett, II you can find the time to sit down and
Lsten as well as RUTH
~, can find time for that" Hesba said,
though it isn't often as / sits down till the
yea Is cleared away and Hiram lights his
nrst pipe afterward."
;. Mary sat down facing the fire, with Ruth
"a an armchair on one side of her. and
aurs, Fow!ett stiff and upright on a hard
eet1ie on the other. Then she began to tell
t sue STORY, first saying few words to let
ner hearers know of the fate of women
VINO 1ell into the hands of the Kaffirs. Then
Sne began with the story of her journey
uown from King Williamstown, the sudden
eItack BY natives, and how after seeing her
. .1r fall she was carried off. Then she
Iclu, what she had never told before, of the
mucous tortures of the other two women.
part Oh which she was compelled too wit
LOSS, ana how she was told that she was to
20 preserved as present to Macomo. Then
que Inscribed the dreary journey. II had
eenly one hope" she said, land it was SO
. .alnU that 1t could not be called a hope: but
ssuere was one man in the colony who some
now felt sure would, if he knew of NV
SSahser, Try to rescue me. He had once be-
y