The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-03-02
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corners. A dark figure rose up and came
across the room.
| jess made movement as if to fly, but
/ she was too late.
ITS me, JESS" said a voice that she
| knew very well. "Its only me. You
needn't be frightened. I shan't do you any
| harm"
He passed behind her and softly shut the
door.
"You, StephenI" said jess, in a be-
wildered tone. "But what are you doing
here?n
Waiting for you" he answered.
For mel For me! But you could not
tell that l should ever comet"
II knew that you would come, Jess. 1
knew that some day, in shame and sorrow,
| you would drag yourself back to your old
home, and that you would fad it empty"
| 81 have not come in shame or sorrow at
ALL" said Jess, Indignantly. II am hap
pier than ever was in all my life bs-
| fore"
''But the wages Of sin is DEATH" said
Stephen sOlemnly.
"fhat's got nothing to do with me-" said
/ jess simply. 81 don't understand Bibls
texts and your Salvation ways, Stephen.
All I've come for is to bring Granny some
things. Here's tea and baccy, and bottle
of brandy and warm awL On, Pve got
heaps Of things in my bag"
AID who paid for them, JESSE"
"Why. of course did, said the girl, with
an exultant little laugh. 'I'm quite rich
now, compared with what l used to be,
Steve. l have everything 1 want"
IF r time. The wages ofsin, repeated
Stephen in a solemn voice. sis always death.
In the long run, if not at once"
Stephen, how you frighten me-" said
jess. "You always did wnen you talked in
taat way. Why are you herep
"Waiting r you, Jes. 1 told you I
knew you'd come. Every evening l spend
an hour or two in this room, praying for you
on my Bonded knees, and willing and wish
ing mat you should come to me. 1 kne
should bring you at last. You are here,
AMI l made you come"
~ wish had stayed away said Jess,
shrinking back. "To think that you were
praying about me, and wanting me, and
never knewl thought it was all my own
fancy to come here to-nig t"
mo, it wasn't that. You've come as an
answer to prayer. You've come because l
willed you to coma. I've had permission to
spend a little time here every evening for
month, until I'd prayed and willed you back
again. The months up Tonight. But I've
| got my prayer granted"
The mans monotonous, harsh voice
grated on Jess nerves. The flash in his
dark eyes, just visible in the gloom, terri
fed her. She looked round for some way
of escape.
where's Daddy Trotterp she asked,
fearfully.
dead. There was nobody to look after
him when you ran away, and he died, they
say, of starvation. His death lies, maybe,
at your doorp
Jess covered as though he had struck her
with his hand.
d-where's-GrannyP' she muir
INJURED below her breath.
"Granny's safe enough. She's with me.
Ne and Dick and Alice Drew, we look
after her. It was wonder she didn't die,
too.n
"Has she been illr' said Jess. her heart
sinking within her.
''She was took bad with rheumatics early
in the winter and couldn't move a limb.
She and Daddy Trotter used to lie here,
they say, and swear and curse at each other,
cause neither of 'en could help the other.
Black Sal u ed to come in every morning
aud do up the place bit. But whe1 Daddy
died, she was kept away for a day or two,
and when she came back he was living there
| dead"-Stephen pointed with his ng lean
arm to one corner of the room-'and shs
was over there"-pointing to anot erin
| a fiji. 1t was a wonder she wasn't dead.
Yes, that's what come Of your going off
with gentleman, Jess; that's what folly
and vice and wickedness led to. The wages
| of sin is death. You killed old Daddy
| Trotter by your neglect; and you went
nigh to kill your Granny. That's what
you've done"
'Pve motive not,n cried Jess, bursting
| into to Irs 81 never meant them to be
hurt-Granny nearly killed me before ran
| away"
''She brought you up from a baby. and
you ought to have seen to her," slid
Stephen the infexible. IF Black Sal
| hadn't ha' come in and called me. she
would ha' died, too. 1t was me as saved
her, Jess / took her to my rooms jls5
round the corner in Baldwin's court, and
tended ner as if she was my own mother.
| I've got her there now. | said she
shouldn't go to a workhouse as long as
was alive"
"You are very good, Steve" said Jess,
sobbing. 20, indeed, l will be better now.
| l will see that she aiI't a trouble to you.
how do vol manage TO do your work and
look after her. too! It's too bad Of me to
| let YOU do it.
II amt in full work as l should like to
be-" said Stephen, after a pause, and
with a sort of groan. II can't
do the Salvation work. as hoped. They
say I'm half-hearted. Pm doing my joiner
work and cabinetmaking still help the
| Army in the evenings. when I've time. But
when I've done all / want 70 do in the
world-cared bit for old Mother Flint.
and saved you, you lost lamb, from the
wrath to come, why then, PIl go humbly
and dedicate my whole life to the service OF
the Army. Tn skulking now; l know
am. And If I'm drummed out Of the Army
OF the Lord. it'll be your fault, jess. and no
ones elseP
His voice grew low and fierce in its pas
sionate intensity. jess hardly gathered the
meaning Of his words; she was wiping
away her tears, and wondering in whatway
she could best assist her grandmother. At
last she said. timidlv:
fYou'll take me to see her, won't you,
StsphenP
"Ah. that wilIF' he answered. with a
ring OF strange triumph in his hoarse voice.
.,T1 take you waefe you can repair the
wrong that you have dole and repsnt OF the
sln vei,'ye committed I'll show yol the
49,. n viii be- bard for your flet % tread.
buf viii carry you over the ryuzn places.
a. tbei Good sbep3erd carrisd the tender
ismbs. Come VIA me, jess, ard ! viii
So was 4 hstle aNed By the Scripturai
,4,vfasu u lis vil-1s. AMI s3s turned silently
"a ~ door. which BE- hgBZ opea vito q
sae.sse ~ uBeoatr0iie1 enCt1OD, w1ic9 80
enlo9kar ml1ht hsge aeene4 fissaffi-1L
eco - asld ''GD forts, a1G ! - fol
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