The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-04-13

told me-but that will take long time to
tell, so | won't begin Just now, for we
shall have plenty of time, shall we notl if
am really-really your wife, Georgein
my darling, how could you make any
mistake about itln
st wasn't in a church." said jess,
dreamily, land l was not quite sure
whether it was the same thing. And
could not ask-becauss l had promised not.
And when you never came"
MY sweetest, don't reproach mel
could not come. was i'll for many weeks.
l thought you had deserted me, and it
nearly killed ME to think it. You are sure
you love me, Jessp
She had the child upon the floor again,
and her arms we're free; she put them
round bis neck and kissed him; and he was
satisfied.
Il must punish this man Stephen Eyre,n
he said, presently. II must find a way of
making him repent the wicked cruelty he
has shown to you. He shall suffer for It'll
swear he shall.n
Leave him alone. George, dear" she
urged. 'If we are happy. we can afford to
let him alone. He will not hurt us again. I"
''If You love me is it possible that you
can make excuses for him, Jess~ said her
husband, with touch of sternness in his
tone. "No, lie must be punished, and we
must punish him."
81 am afraid jess said, almost in a
whisper
Afraid, my wife-of whats"
II am afraid that he will try to hurt you.
l am afraid of him. He is very hard and
cruel in some ways, although he's such re-
ligious man. He will try to pay you back
if you make him suffer-I know that and
jess shivered as if she could not bear to re-
member what had happened in the past.
hall -
you now," said George, in a low voice.
"And we must forget the past and try to
live more closely together, to love each
other more-oh, my darling what injustice
have been doing you! But now let us
think what we are to do next. You must
come away from this wretched place, l
must get you to a warm, comfortable
house. you and the child-my own little
girl whom I have not seen properly yet.
Come, darling, shall we gog'
She smiled at him-the sweet, happy
smile that he remembered so well in days
gone by. THEN aD anxious look came over
her face. For the wind had risen and was
bowling in the chimneys and round the
empty rooms, and when they looked out,
they saw that the snow was coming down
i'll great fakes that made the air look thick
and white. 1t was a terrible storm, and
one long remembered IN the metropolis.
Anu fIdlulJ IL se04Deu uldu TO venture OUT
into such tempest at IL o'clock at night
They were in Whitechapel; in all proba-
bility no cab could be obtained until they
had tramped long and weary way.
jess would not have minded for herself,
but she looked at her child and hesitated to
brave the storm.
80, George, l daren't take her out" she
said, piteou,ly. But you must not stay.
I'll stop here, and you can go home aad
come for me in the morning."
And leave you alone. No, that will
| never do. Ii you stay | stay too"
jess protested, but in vain. Eastwood
| was resolved not to leave her now No, he
would stay with her all through the long
cold night in the dreary, deserted house,
and even in that abode Of desolation he felt
a glow of happiness, such as ne had not
known for many long day. All his
doubts of jess were swept away in a full
tide of love and happiness; and the future
unrolled itself before him in every rainbow
| hue.
| They made a sort Of encampment for
| themselves in one of the rooms on the
| second floor, and in spite OF Jess remon-
strances, George tore down the rotten wood
of doors and cupboards to make fire in
the rusty graGe. With his coat aud ulster
be wrapped up Jess and the child as warmly
| as possible, and then for some time they sat
| by the glowing blaze, murmuring soft
words, and planning the happiness that was
TO come. Lulled by her caresses, and
soothed by the warmth, George at last
| dropped off to sleep, and Jess, after little
struggle to keep awake, followed his exam
pie.
She was awakened by strange means and
| incoherent words. Both came from
George, who seemed, however, to be wide
awake. She spoke to him but received no
answer; she called him, by name, but he did
not seem TO hear. The insidious ailment
| that had undermined his strength SO long
| had again attacked him with violence; and
George Eastwood lay delirious with fever
in the deserted house in Mill street, while
the terrible snow-storm ragged in the streets
| of London town.