Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-05-26

heavy upon his brow, and the finger-marks
of care were plain across his fine forehead.
Sisters or brothers he had never known,
mother and father were long since dead.
He was alone in the world, alone amidst
the inuumerable who were proud to call
him friend or acquaintance; alone, with no
confidant nc single soul to receive the words
that relieved the pent-up yearnings and
emotions Of his heart, save Bessie, his low
ing, true, ever-patient Bessie, his alone, to
whom he was god.
To her only did he porr out his most
secret thoughts, bis widest imaginings !;
fortunes of the inquisition, he knew, could
not wiring from her one word of betrayal Of
bis trusts.
From a Swallowed nook long she watched
him, then stole silently and, resting at his
feet, laid her beautiful head upon his knee
and raised her beautiful eyes to read in his
own the secrets of his soul.
With ightness of an angels touch his
great, brown hand fell upon her put-brown
hair, lovingly it fingered among the soft,
Short curls, his brow cleared, his gaze be-
came soft, tender, as it rested upon her, and
sigh of relief told how thankfullyshe rec
ognized the bond of love between them,
how willingly he resigned himself to its
power.
Long they thus remained, silent, yet in full
communion. But Thurlow was q creature Of
moods, of strange, sudden, wild impulses.
At times he seemed unable to resist the
terrible outbursts Of passion that swayed
him, soul and body; the slightest seeming
~ the most insignificant action of those un-
der his control-and he considered all who
acknowledged him as master to be under
his supreme authority-the most trivial
movement OF one Of these would render
him frantic and terrible. In his wrath he
would visit his anger on the innocent, IN
suspecting victim with the beartless cruelty
OF Nero.
No calm followed these storms, for waves
of unchecked, soul-searching remorse would
toss the unhappy raan upon the sea Of self
accusation and restless penitence, while the
''priGe that would not down. part Of his
uncurbed nature rendered il almost impos-
eible for him to make the least exhibition
of sorrow for tbs Ills he had SO ruthlessly
inflicted.
"The heart knoweth its own bitterness"
and no human creature ever dreamed Of
the agony this man endured when his pas
sion had spent its force
But to the lovely and loving Bessie he
was tenderness itself, not invariably, alas
still, her geptleness, her obedience, her
beauty shielded her from many Of the
storms that beat upon the heads of others.
1t would be hard to tell, pulling even to
conjecture, what demon Of Ill found its way
into The atmosphere of peaceful quiet that
surrounded these two rs they sat together
in the twilight.
Spite OF the good angel that seemed to
hover over them, the demon forced its
way.
What 1t was, Thurlow could never recall
TO his dying day. Some slight movement
on her part that disturbed the tenor of his
thought, perhaps; if might have been only
turn of her head or a wandering glance
of her eyes that conveyed to him the
idea that her heart longed for another
resting place. Let it be what il might, the
spark was struck, the train was fred, and,
like fash, his anger was ablaze.
He sprang to his feet, his eyes flashed
with rage, his lips trembled with passion.
One word, only one word, he uttered,
deep, stern, unanswerable "Gol' and with
rigid, upright figure he stood, his arm ex-
tended and his hand pointing out into the
swift-gathering darkness.
Cop
And she, Bessie, the gentle, uncomplain-
ing, ever-obedient Bessie, hardly yet re-
covered from the shock his sudden uprise
had given her, with slow, lingering steps,