New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1889-08-25


I remember running thus, without pause or
thought, and 1t seems to me, in looking Dack
that my flight lasted for many years but have
no clear recollection how and when il ended
stopped and held in strong strong arms from which
struggled Valnly 10 escape; and then OF seeing
people about me, and being in a room again-a
room with horrid barred window. / hated
those bars; thought was going 10 be murdered
again, and that they would cut of all way Oh
escape; and often and often l tried to tear them
down.. shook all over, too and tried to mae
constantly expected to see my enemies come IN:
and ! never could be sure of trusting anybody,
for people who at first looked quite different to
those | dreaded TO see seemed to change and be
come like them suddenly; and would not look
at speak to any one if / could help it, feeling
that my murderers had found me out, ana
came in various DISCUSSES, pretending TO be my
friends, till they should find another opportunity
of killing me. But after a long time my enemies
did not come so often, and the people about me
remained themselves, and their faces did not
change into those dreadful ones | shrapk from
And there was one face | gradually grew TO IKE
and look for: it belonged to woman, and she
came every day, and stayed with me long time,
and smiled at me and sOOthed me. | would not
look at her at first, but bit by bit ceased TO he
afraid of her: and one day, when she was sitting
by me, all of sudden l thought of Katchen:
had not Thought of her for such a long time
never since. had left that awful house and fed
through the streets | had forgotten all about
her: had not remembered that there was such "a
coming suddenly was like great flash Of light,
and it was more than | could bear. | began TO
cry and think cried for a very long time, with
great sobs and a great pain at my heart. But
the pain, bit by bit, was eased; and it was as IL
thick clouds OF darkness flOated away the tears
fell down; and by-and-by a great peaceful hap
pness awOBe within me: for gradually, as the
light shOne in upon my mind, | felt that the race
which, in spite of its sweetness had been strange
TO no longer strange, but only sweet: L
knew that the eyes, patient and watchfuI, were
Il. Nl..fT ho1 Ion cd 70 Innly
into; and the last tears that she'd were tears OF
Joy and gratitude as / laid my own poor ugly,
care-m marked face against tile face Of Katohen.
I need not tell all the story of how Katchen
had found me. / need not tell of her surprise
when she had no answer to her letter telling me
that she was engaged TO an English relation OF
our Cousins how surprise had become alarm, and
alarm had changed 10 grief and terror how her
lover had persuaded her at once to become his
wife, so that she might the more easily come with
him to England and look for me till she found
me- how, after patient and unceasing search, she
had traced me and how, day by day, she had
persevered in her efforts to bring back the light
into my darkness. Nor need | tell how she
6rou ght me to my present happy home, nor of the
kindness of her English husband. nor of the love
and care that surrounds My story is done:
nothing terrible happens to me now; and if |
were to tell Of my present life, 1t would sound
only dull and commonplace
l live in this big London, where there is so
much that is bad and so much that is good: so
much misery and crime and death so much life
and love and self-sacriiice. Your London is very
big far bigger than any of our German towns,
and like it TO be big: for its size enables me TO
live in peace I can drive and walk with Katchen
and her children and | can visit friends and see
much that is interesting in your great city and
all this can | do without strengthening those
memories which l strive to kill. And could not
do it if the town were not so big that it is like
several towns, if the different parts of it were
not all so distinct and so arGe-oh no, l could
not do it: for even now, after all these years,
after all the love and care and happiness that has
been showered upon me, there is part of London
into which, nay even near to which, l dare not
90 -(G. COlmore. in Time.