The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-05-11

can't go down to the country tonight said
jess, duly.
'No dear, not tonight, but tomorrow
morning. And shall have to pack my
things in Buck street. Come round with me
and help me. Then we can gon
| And jess. docile as a child, yielded tc
Aices suggestion. and left the dreary
house in Mill street that very afternoon.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
"I-MYsELF."
| Mr.. Field, the banker, returned to Mil
street that evening, and was much sur.
prlsed to find 1.-THE young woman" gone. He
was seriously disturbed by the discovery Y.
He had intended to question her closely con
corning the marriage ceremony "hich East.
wood informed him had been gone through,
he had an idea that he might prove it tc
| have been informal enough to make a sepa-
ration possible. Or if this were not to be
| done, he thought that ''the young woman's
| subsequent conduct might form the basis
| of divorce case. George Eastwood's treat
ment Of her could only be explained, he
| thought, by some theory of her unfaithful-
| ness; and he meant to cross-examine her
thoroughly, and then to consult lawyer.
But all his plans were upset when he found
that Jess was gone.
Nobody knew where she was likely to be
found. Her departure had been little no
tlced, and Alice Drew had not been seen
with her. Then Mr.. Fields grave, dry
manner did not seem to invite the confidence
of jewellers in Mill street. So that he
learned far less concerning Jess than man
of finer tact ana greater penetration would
have had chance of learning.
"She is certainly bad lot," he said to
himself, as he left the street behind him.
well, she knows where TO come or what to
do, if she is In distress. / will come again
tomorrow and set some one to watch for
her. But upon my word, if she chooses to
disappear, / don't think any body would OBJ
jecsi must consult Eastwood about the
child. / suppose he wants to have it prop
erly brought up. A woman of that stamp
is not fit to have the care of a little girln
He came again next day, and set a clerk
of his own to look out for jess, but neither
he nor his clerk was successful. Then he
wondered whether he had better tell George
of her disappearance. Better, perhaps, to
wait few days until he was stronger. Mr..
Field felt little uncomfortable as to the
result of his communication.
But George, in q 1T of inexplicable rest
lessness, was no sooner strong enough to
walk across the room, tha2 he determined
to go abroad at once. He went off at a mo-
ment's notice, with trusty m.a-servant;
and when he reached his old quarters in
Italy, he wrote letters to Mr.. belmont and
his uncle, assuring them of his welfare, and
giving plausible reasons for not having
written earlier--reasons which it never &C.
CURED to his relations to question. Georges
movements had long been conducted on per-
fectly independent lines, he had firmly re-
fused to be bound down even to the life that
his uncle thought SO desirable for him. and
when he wrote that a very sudden infiam-
matory attack had determined him to leave
England In January, and that he had not
been well enough or energetic enough to
write since his arrival in Italy, Col. East
wood growled and even swore a little, but
believed him. He vowed that he would
have an explanation, however, when George
came home; but as a matter of fact he and
his nephew never met again. Col
Eastwood was taken suddenly ill. and
died before George could be summoned !:
and the young man wrote that his health
would not permit him 20 return home AT
present. All Col. Eastwocd,s possessions
were left to him, and he was, Jheref re. a
rich man, and could afford to loiter little
on the continent The house at WEXFORD
was shut up, and Mrs. belmont came to
London to keep house for Frank. And then
George wandered away to some out-of-the-
world region of the Black Forest, where he
cut himself off from letters, papers, and
news of every kind, for many months: SO
that when at last he awcke from his passive
state, it seemed to him that the very face of
the earth was changed.
DR.. Price heard from Alice of her i'll
success in learning the details of Jess story.
and was little vexed by it. However. he
did not give up hope. 81 shall get at the
truth of that story YETI he said, nodding
his head obstinately. DR.. Price was man
who liked his own way, and generally got
it, by fair means or foul. He saw that Jess
was in a nervous and exhausted state, not
fit to be questioned at present. and, there
fore, he let the matter rest; but ouly, as he
told himself, for time. He gave Alice
Drew substantial assistance in leaving Lon
don, and promised to pay her visit as soon
as she was settled and he had free day.
Alice smiled little at the promise, for she
thought it very improbable that he would
ever have that free day" which he had
been signing after for many months; but
she did not fathom the depths of DIR. Prices
reasons for visiting her. Therefore she was
all the more surprised when one fine Sunday
morning she saw the doctors broad, short
figure at the door of the house in which she
lived, and heard him inqtiring for Miss
Drew and Mrs. Wood.
The cottage in which Jess and her friend
had found home was low, whitewashed
structure, with matched roof and small
diamond-paned windows. Before it
stretched garden, gay with spring flowers,
and a great sweetbriar bush that stood
beside the door filled the air with its per-
fume. Here, on the white steps before the
door, Jess sat with her little girl. The
scent of the sweetbriar leaves, of the wall
flowers and violets, was welcome to her
nostrils, and she seemed eager to breathe
the fresh country air as much as possible.
Indeed, Alice found it difficult to withdraw
her from her seat upon the doorstep. even
when the weather was wet and cold. To
one who had been brought up amongst
bricks and mortar and the sights and sounds
OF Whitechapel slum, the moist smell Of
the clean earth. the patter of soft. sweet
rain amongst the boughs, the twittering Of