The morning call., 1890-06-10
OUT OF THE DEEPS.
iCoNTINUED.l

EE = NIItUETW NTUW y
| EsyR fever which was consuming her lfe. the
| cyAEC longing ana aching TO see hlm grew worse
| and worse. She did not know where lie was, was DSr t
! what lie did and the feeling that She shOulu De
nearer hearing OF him In London MADE neT crave
| 10 return there sooner than had been intended,
| so The beginning of October found her and her
| mother once more In town. Helen had grown
| worse during the autumn m0nthSi Inc traitor
| cOlOrs which might have been taken for Dean,
| ty's ensign" but which were 10 tiuth Inc heralu
| OF "deAIl's pale lag, hlu, even rom nel
| mother. part OF the change. But sue was
| far thinner, more restless and more irIita-
| BILE than was her WON'T ana olteh, though
not always she realized h0w short her span VI
| life was growing. she had looked death SO
| steadily in the face now that IL seemed the
| dreadful countenance grew gentler; the old mad
| fear had left her, though II returned al times,
| but still Paul BeaOun's face filled her dreams py
night her thoughts by day. To die aud he Tor
| goiienl The pain Of the thought was as Keen as
| ever; all her life had be his though ne ala mol
| know il, ana lie would never think oil heI-she
| was nothing 10 him! She told herself she did
| not now wish TO be first with him. but sho wanted
10 be in his lie, not tO fade utterly INTO Inc past:
| So an idea came 10 her, iepulsed al nrsl, YET
| returning ever and again, each time more
| sti ougY, and dwelling longer with her as au
| tumu crept on TO winter, and she grew weaker
He could never guess te run i ,ia f.t tim umons"'
| She was lying on the sofa one ehill November
| day-fOr the last few days one oil those strange
| reylvals OF vitality, which all know OF IN cases
like hers, had made poor Mrs. Fawcett hope
| against hope that her darling was really better,
| given back TO her perhaps, from the grave. ana
a
| entered The room with a large bowl of violets,
which she placed a table near the girl's Side
"Are they not lovely, Helen?n she asked. ,,
| Helen reused herself Yes" she SAID
"a Mother, darling do you know think il is bad
| for us both seeing so few people? l shall never
get well unes, think l am So ana l. n,ts, ieei SO
Mrs. Fawcelt looked both surprised ana
! alarmed.
al want to begin TO really show l am getting
| we'll" said Helen. YOU know l am, and SO
wish you would ask one or two people to dinner
| on my birthday, next week"
| " Helen dear don't think OF ii. You are not
| strong enough for anything OF the sort"
:" am strong enough for tnat," said Helen' "a
| strange resolve in her voice - do want IL,
| mamma ana you must let me have my own
way IhaVe been good and obedenG so long"
she went to her mother and took her head be
! tween her thin, slender hands, and kissed her IN
a caressing, playful manner 10 hide the real
earnestness that possessed her' :, W., ,.,o,,,
do, Madre," size tmplored, You know IL
| do not feel well enough / need not come down.
| But shall, you are curing me so last"
II VIII ask DE- James began MIS- MIS- FaTcett .HIco
Helen MADE lace @ snrs he SnS osd .Iu ie yon
might bu! want my own way. Indeed will
| be careful"
Whom would you like asked?"
Helen named three or four people, then paused
| for moment, as rejecting.
ave want a young man." she said. "Let me
have the address book, mamma. We VIII have
| the first come 10. A No, theIe is no "A.
except young Arbuthnot, and he IS away with his
| people. 'B.' Yes, mere Is MI bealOuu.'
II don't know if he is In town." said Mrs.
| FawcetI, but she wrote tie note.
| Mr. Bealoun was iu town and accepted.
| The ftful fire which had ncketed up IN Helen's
| diving iamD OF life for the previous week burned
| brightly enough to deceive most OF Mrs. Faw-
| cetrs guests on the evening OF the small dinner
| party which TO tine hostess seemed Ike ghOstly
| memory OF suen paitles In The past Excite
ment, nervousness aud The fever of her disease
gave Helen that night yivIdness she had never
| Lad In health. Paul Beatoun was struck when
| be saw her by the strange beauty OF her eyes
| the brightness OF her face and lalk. He took
her down 10 dinner and they seemed TO DRIFT
back into memories OF different times when they
had met A new sympathy sprang up between
them-a personal nearness Helen had never felt
before.
Later on in the evening they were talking OF
an artist Just Gead, young sculptor of promise.
"Do you know that staluette by him mother
has in her boudolI2" Helen asked Mr.. Beatoun.
mo; l should like to see 1t. Would you show
II me?"
use the transparent ruse, far less avail herself OF
its success for fear both OF his percelying H. aud
of other people doing so; she was Careless OF all
this tonight or rather she had neTyed herself TO
gain one object at all costs. She lose, saying 10
her mother, Il am going TO show Mr.. BeatOun
the Fate" and went into tile boudolr followed by
II wish lie had had tim4 to work at the large
statue" she saidi cit would have been very
fine"
at The flgure, only the small rough model Tor lhc
! statue that would never now live in marble.
''He told us 1t was only study" she said.
! "He wanted TO do group from mat chorus ln
Love between Fate and Death-yes," he said
musingly he looked at tile girl by him. and
some strange sadness IN her eyes struck him
like the sudden touch OF cold wind. A dreamy
melody that was being played IN the drawing,
rOom came softened 10 their ears; the only light
| iu the room was crimson glass lamp that sh ed
| a hectic glow over Helms lace and her dress Oi
misty white Paul BeatouD looking AT her, per
ceived with certain shock, how very slight she
hand which rested dark
| claret velvet table.
"Mr. Beatoun," she said, suddenly and sim.
| ply woDdor II you would understand wish
have"
Some note of pathos IN the sweet voice, some
unconscious appeal In the eyes, toucned the
young man 10 a vague new feeling. TRY me-
he said earnestly, leaning toward her. There
was that in his look which some time earlier
would have seemed 10 her as the vision OF
possible heaven and even now it struck quIcs
eladness through her, though there was M
longer any hope
"You have been, but you are better now, arr
!" am dyingv And then she told him all how
| little lie remained to her.
He looked at her with strange sorrow anG
establishment. !" Ii can't be true" lie said.
is too horrible"
No" she said. al don't think fear 1t now.'
Then there was 4 long silence.
al l could help you!" he said at last, in
chOked voice. " How can you be SO brave?"
81 am not brave" she answered. 6 wa
frightened at first-ob, you don't knowi" anC
she gave a long shvrring sigh at the memory OF
her dark hours. " But somehow now The dIeat
seems TO have died; pray II may not come
back. There is Que thing"
"What?'
cry In her voice. 'Ail The people have known
the life that has been so pleasant, it will all gt
on when | ain dead, and no one will ever thinl
Of me again. | want TO be remembered not only
by my friends who bnew me, but by people lik'
you, whose lives have only just touched mine
but helped 10 make IL bright"
hall
culver In his tOnei ths man who had not oDct
remembered her from the day they had bidder
gOod-by iu Bond street Till three or four day!
ago, when lie had received Mrs FawceIrs note
, | asking him 10 dlnuer.
yes" she SAID. "you win, but wish you aut
| other people"-she felt ashamed In her soul o
that ialsehood, knowing she only cared for hi
thought OF her-"to just think OF me now all
tn n, and so want to give you something,
book or skelch, which has been mine, that vii
: | remind you sometimes for moment"
She looked at his face with a sudden terro
lest her words should have told any hint OF he
secret to him. Oh how she loved him Til
full sense OF all her love seemed 10 crowd on he
, | at that moment with shame lest he should rea(
1t. She wished she had never asked him this
"If you will !' he said. al shall value it-yol
do moi know how dearly. But | should not neet
II TO remfm6er you; you cannot think that"
THANK you" she answered. She gave hin
her hand with qnic Impulse she regretted ILL
moment alter; lie put II 10 his lips, hot tea
fell on 1t, which Helen started 10 feel.
"He did care little" she thought as she la
her tired head oil its pillow that night, land Ii
| Will not quite forget me-always."
Helen was asleep when MIR. beatonn called tw
days later, and She did not see him again thu oug
the dark December days. Ii she had known til
truth, she would have learned lie l0nged to CONT
but did not, for fear she should think lie misiI
terpreted her request. lie wondered once, IL
deed, IL this girl, whom he had always liked, bu
who had never I'LL The other night made hi
pulses beat more quickly, had given him an
= thought OF her heart The very frankness OF he
: wish proved her Innocent aud worthy OF far bel
7 ter love than his; had he uuwlttingly done he
the wrong OF teaching her 10 care for him? Fl
was not worth the love Of this girl, he thought bu
he knew that women give their love geneious
as the dew, without thinking If that which |
y rests ON he ht Tor such treasure. IL she had Il
had been q fool; an impulse seized him to see
: her aud ask her II even now It were TOO late an
then he told himself that il would be an insult [
!, her confidence In him, 10 let this be the end,
read her wish thus. But, IL she had cared fC
: him, why was her feeling for him only to caus
her pain? III Helen had met him in anOthe
: world, where spirits can read each others eyes
he would have known that her love had bean III
dearest treasure OF her life, and that she won,
have answered with DonaeO when MiriaI
asked him what lie had gained worth his 10: