The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-07-13
THE GREAT Mill STREET MYSTERY.
-ADELINE SERGEANT
Ere.
lALL RIGHTS RESERVED1


upon him a face which was calm, although
sorrowful and pale.
Il know what you would say, dear
George. You are very goOd-very kind
81 know how little use words are he
said in rather chOked voice.
Nay, they are of much use" she an
swered, gravely and gently. ut is good TO
know that one has the sympathy of ones
friends; have felt it so through all this time
of sorrow. One is not corlfoI ted, but the
pain is-sOmetimes-ass uaged."
They stood silt.lt for a minute or two;
she with her face turned toward the
church, he again looking on the ground.
ut Is nearly SIX months ago now she
said, her eyes filling with tears as she spoke
II have had-tIme, | suppose, to get used
to the void, the emptiness in the house. But
feel it always still cannot forget"
ut is useless, at any rate, to offer YOU
any platltudeS of consolation, Diana [
offer you love and sympatby-it is all l can
do"
She held out her hand to him with pass
ing smile.
Thank you, George. And now tell me
about yourself. Where have you been?"
THAT matters very little" he answered,
almost impatiently. From wandering up
and down the earth, and firing of every
corner of it in turn"
You must come home now and settle
down. The place wants you-and Meenie
ought to have a home.n
II hoped that you would keep her with
you"
81 will keep her as long as you like, but
she ought to learn to know her father, and
look on your house as her home. You will
one day regret that you have not let her see
more of you"
George moved restlessly.
God knows that | want to do my duty
to her" he said; 'but-what can man do?
Am TO engage servants and governesses
and companions for hers 1t is a mothers
place to do all that. Can you no longer help
me, Diana?"
ut would be great grief to me to give
her up" she said.
Why should you ever give her up!" he
asked, abruptly.
She changed color and seemed startled by
the tone of the question.
Il do not understand" she said. 81 can
not undertake to keep her always from her
father"
mo, TO-" be interrupted, rather hoarsely,
that is not what l meant. But l had no
right to speak. If you could be a mother
to her-even without becoming anything
nearer and dearer to me-
He broke off suddenly. But now she I'M
derstood. and a great wave of color passed
across her face
Y,
reproachfully, 'do you remember where
we are standingp
YES" he said, with more heat than be-
fore, I'VE are standing near my wife's
grave-close to the church where your hus-
band and your little son are lying-and vet
do not feel that any of my words are out
of place. We are both very much alone in
the world; we have no one to consult but
ourselves-and Meenie, whose interests
could not be better served than by what l
desire-and | venture to say that none of
those whom we have loved would feel that
we were wronging or forgetting them if we
joined our lives together"
Diana was silent, but she looked thought
full and not angry. George drew an unfa-
vorable augury from her silence.
II know" he said, bitterly, that it is
unpardonable presumption for me to have
spoken as did. l take back my words.
Why should l ask you for anything?-I,
with my wasted life, my furnished reputa-
ton, to offer you in return! 1t was uDrea-
sonable in me, and withdraw the word"
Diana did not look at him as she replied:
George" she said. Twill you tell me
plainly and truly what you meang"
II mean nothing. dare mean nothing"
but tell me what you meant a few min
utes ago. What did you wish me to do?'
He paused in some surprise.
What / wish is not much to this DUR
pose. l had bold thought, Diana, that
now you were left alone, it might be a salts
faction to you to know that there was some
one who priced and loved you above every
other human creature. | thought that you
might even stoop SO far as to join your lot
to mine-but know that | was mad when
l dreamt so wild dream-I know that
dare not hope"
what do you want?" she asked, in low
tone. Suppose you could have what you
wished, what would you ask for for?"
81 should ask for your love, Diana"
"Was it not all given away long ugoT'
81 gave the love of my yonth to jess" he
answered, steadily, "but the love of my
manhood Is yours. Think no more of what
l have said, Diana. / know that it can
never be. Don't let me distress you. 1t
would be a grief indeed to me if by these
few rash words had forfeited your friend
ship"
you have not done that" she said,
little TREMENDOUSLY.
Thank you. You were always kind
And now may go in peace. l came from
will go back again. could not rest until
you knew. Goodbye"
You are not-goirgW
Indeed am. Why should stay?m
Because" she said, more firmly, "you
have not had my answer yet"
"Oh, that Is a foregOne conclusion"
''If you think SOL had better leave the
matter where it stands"
He looked at her in surprise There was
a look IN her face which he could not mis-
teke. He took one quick step nearer to
her, and then she lifted her hand and spoke
again.
'Weit, George, l have word to say.
Why should we act like two children, when
so much is at stake! Your happine5s-and
mine"
Yours, DianaT'
Eyes, mine, George, if dare confess the
truth. You could not have made me hap
pier than yon have done just now. We
have both known what it is to love and to
suffer, and we are both lonely and desoate.
Why should we not draw together and
try to bring little light tinto each others
livesw
could you do that, DianaW he asked,
wistfully, taking her hand in his. You
have the advantage of knowing my faults
and my weaknesses better than anybody
else. Can you forgive them and bear with
mep'
II think understand you better than
any one else does, she said, looking at him
with the full, dark gaze which be loved to
meet. But that means that | understand
the nobler side of you as well as the
weaker. And if it were only for Meenies
sake"
"Ah! don't say that" he urged, tenderly.
Of int~ hot fo,-