Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1890-01-02

OdlOO VI lhC. NY popd 10 uCdu duu-.
Here the little fellow broke down and
commenced TO sob wildly.
"There, there! Don't cry! Tell me
your name and give me the paper. l
will take it to Mr.. Evermond." said
Susie.
my name is Willie Evermond, and
oh, dear, have lost the paper. What
shall dos" cried the child.
Susie put her jeweled hand to her
pale brow. There was rush of feel
ing within too powerful to resist and
for a moment she was speechless.
When she found voice to speak the
tones were far off and hollow. She
asked:
"What was your fathers name?'
"Will, mother always called him.
He died four weeks ago. We have not
been in this country but five weeks"
was the reply.
at must be Wills child" murmured
Susie, as she observed the resemblance
of the little face to one whose every
lineament was imprinted upon her
heart. "Five years since he went away.
This child is about four. Poor Will
must have married soon after reaching
a foreign shore" she soliloquized.
Then taking the child by the hand
she led him into the presence of Mr..
Evermond and told his simply story.
"Mr. Evermond was pale with anger.
"Take the brat awayy' he cried. at
is but the artfully contrived story of
some greedy wretch who thinks to
make money out of my troubles Why,
Susie! only last week a little girl
came to me with a pitiful story, claim
ing to be the child of my daughter
Nellie, who, she said, was dead. l
thought the child looked altogether too
much like some person L had seen, to
belong to my family, so l told her to
lead me to her home, and would do
my duty by her. She hesitatel, but I
insisted, and she led the way TO filthy
street, and in one of the crowded tene-
ment houses, found the mother of the
little girl, and who do you think it was
Our old nurse, Mary Ann Galloway,
who lived with us when Nellie went
away, and knew all the particulars of
the affair. Just as likely as any way,
this boy was sent by the same person.
/ shall not give him any money; show
him outw
Susie led the child from the room,
and bidding him wait for her in the
hall, quickly put on a warm shawl, and
furs, and taking hat from the ward
robe, she left the house in company
with him. Up one street and down
another, until it seemed that they
would never stop. Susie followed this
shivering child. She felt that she was
going to find Wills wife, and her gen.
erous heart formed many plans for the
relief of the suffering woman upon this
way. At last they paused before a
ricketty-looking building, and the little
boy said:
"Ill take hold of your hand, and when
say go CAREFUL you must mind
where you step, for the stairs in some
Of 'em is broke. know where every
broken step comes"
She followed him into a filthy entry,
and up dark, winding staircase, then
into small, bare room. The woman
whom he called "mother" was yet
alive, although it was evident that her
hours were numbered. She made a
feeble effort to turn her head toward
the new corners, but in vain. Susie
bent over her.
The dying woman opened her eyes
and whispered:
"Susie! oh, Susie! l did not expect
you would come after had so disgraced
you; but did want father to take care
of Willie. You are too good, dear
Susie"
The dying woman reached out her
hands with one convulsive movement.
Willie pillowed his head upon her
breast, and the weary life went out
Nellie Evermond was dead.
Among her few papers were found
brief history of her life. The william
who had lured her from her home had
never deserted her, and at her entreaty
had taken her to her native land to die.
His death occurred soon after their ar
rival, and little Willie, who bore his
mothers name was all that was left Of
her six children.
Mr. Evermond caused the body Of his
misguided daughter to be buried in a
costly casket, and it rests now beneath
the quiet shades of Greenwood.
AS Susie entered the house after her
visit to the wretched home of Nellie
Evermond, aforementioned voice
greeted her, and well-knOwn form
FASTENED to meet her. Will Evermond
had returned.
In far-off Italy he met the man whose
guilt had been fastened upon himself,
and from his dying lips he heard the
confession. He fastened to have it
put in writing and properly witnessed,
- a A. - 4.