The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-03-30
IALL RIGHTS RESERIEDJ

! in search of tie one face which lie swore to
himself that lie did not want to see. And
as he walked, he came, almost without see
/ ing where he went. into the outskirts of q
little crowd; and. waking from his ab5trac-
ton, be was pushed and hustled and jostled
into the very midst Of it, where, wedged in
by fat woman with basket on one side,
and cOStermolger on the other, while
several youths with pipes In their mouths
ami some miserable looking factory girls
hemmed him III 50 that be could not stir, he
resigned himself TO listen to what was going
on and was more than u little di-gusted to
find that the crowd had gathered round a
cart from which a street-preacher was
holding forth il strident tones
Atfirst Eastwood paid no attention to the
man. He occupied himself in giancing aU
the faces around him, and wondering
vaguely what we're the histories of these
men aud women at his side. He wondered
little also to find himself in such surround
ings. 1t was between o'clock and O'clock
and he had not dined. He begin to remem-
Der tire existence of his club. And then,
suddenly, something in the preachers tone
struck him as familiar, and he turned with
start to look at the man who was harang-
uiDg the little crowd. A neighboring gas
lamp flung yellow glow upon the speakers
sailow face and coal-black hair: it lighted
up his dark eyes with an almost sinister
radiance. George stared aud gave some
thing like gasp. The preacher was his
old enemy, Stephen Eyre.
The hypocrite!" he exclaimed so fiercely
that the men and women on either side
turned round TO look at him. and he was
roughly admonished to ''hold his jaw" He
kept silence, not because of this admonition,
but because certain physical sensations
warned him to strive for calmIess. The
beating in his head and at his heart, the dir
illness, the confusion of thought from which
at times he suffered, came over him with
such sudden violence as to alarm him. Be-
fore all things, he must keep his head clear
He believed that this man, Eyre, had taken
away his jess, and perhaps knew her hiding
place at the present moment He must
wait, edge himself through the
crowd, and track the man to his
home Goodness and cunning might pre-
vail. where force and ferocity had failed.
He ground his teeth to hear the man
whom he hated pour forth well-known
platitues concerning death and hell AMI sin.
1t seemed 20 him PROCLAMATION that Stephen
Eyre should dare to touch upon these sub
jects. And vet, if he had been less preju-
diced, he might have distinguished note
of profound sincerity in poor Stephens out
pourings. There was a touch of fire aud
passion which raised his preaching far
above the average of street sermons. His
theology might be gloomy, his practice OF
religion faulty, but he was thoroughly in
earnest, and believed every word that he
said. If he preached to the people that they
were gong to he'll, he did not scruple to ex-
press his heartfelt fear that he was going
there with them. He had no gospel of joy
to offer but he could warn them, with
terrible fervor. OF the wrath to come.
Eastwood heard only the peroration of
his address, and did not discover any of its
|
nearer and nearer to tn cart, but he took
care to remain in the shadow, for he did not
want Stephen to see him just yet. Sud
denly he stopped, spell-bound. The very
name he had Ionged TO hear had fallen IN
solicited from Stephens lips.
Some Of you knew Jess Armstrong; he
said. "She left here under a sort of cloud,
about two years ago. We found her and
did our best to save her soul. We call her
Happy jess now. She's here to speak for
herself, and toll you what the difference is
between then and now. Come, Jess-Happy
Jess-come, and show the people no ~ happy
you are now you've got saved.n
He turned and bent down, as if speaking
to some other occupant of the cart. Hold
ing his breath painfully, and pressing on
ward-unminGful of the people whom he
elbowed on his right hand and on his left,
| George Eastwoods eyes were fixed on q
| dark, muffied up figure, which ne had Just
| distinguished at Stephens side. Was it
/ possible that jess was there! 1t was a wo-
| mans form.
/ Stephen helped the woman to rise: il
| seemed to George that he almost dragged
/ her to her feet and set her in the front 0.
the cart. Her form dropped as if it would
| have fallen, but Eyre seized and upheld
her with one arm. while with his left ha nd
| he pushed back a dark hood which had
hitherto screened her face. The crowd held
| its breath. George uttered a low, nall
stuffed cry. Yes, it was Jess who stood
there, white as death, thin, hollow-eved
with an aureole of short golden locks
which CLEANED in the lamplight like the
nimbus af saint. Her face was wonder
| fully changed lt was TRANSPORTED by {
look of exaltation, of mystical rapture anC
devotion; but there was never a face &
which the word ''happy" was less appiica
| BILE. "Happy Jess!" This woman, with th,
wild, white, passionate face could never b.
happy again.
TO George Eastwood's utter surprise anC
dismay, she began to speak, feebly anC
hoarsely at first, but more distinctly after
ward. Her words seemed to him rather like
the rawlings of one in delirous dream: bu
he concluded that they had been put inte
her mouth by stephen Eyre. In this. how
ever, he was mistaken; what Jess said wa
prompted only by her own art-torn anC
bleeding still with the memory of her sor-
rows
40, brothers and sisters, she began, "yol
used TO know me when lived in Mil street
and you know what poor, miserable girl
was, always ready to give up my work anC
fly of to enjoy myself when could, with
out thinkin' of my Granny as brought M
up an did everythir yer me. Ana yet
wasn't Apply. :; ~ sit an cry yer,
often. And then, .rat rs aud sisters,
forgot myself an my dooty IA my God
and | went away-as many of you know
with one who said as he'd make me his wifi
"A fine gentleman"
She stopped confusedlv; there was littl
Kissing and n cry of shame" Stebhe
bent down TO her and whispered in her ear
she smiled bravely at him-a bright, wea
smile-aad then went on:
Daddy Trotty died through me gonr
away. | murdered him, as sure n ever
; man was murdered. ! let him starve. c
Pm one o the vilest o. the vile: there ain
no name too bad for me. However bad an
Of you are, there amt any OF YOU wors
than me. lived wicked life--a life OF sil
and shame--aud yet I'm saved, ard Ii
'eppy-'eppy all the day, because my sin
, are washed away. o. won't YOU come
brothers aud sisters. and he made appy lil
poor. wicked. mi cradle jess rs was, tina,
now blessed, appy, Apply Jess-a s.ngia' Il
the daY|
aud. rs II carried away b. her excess
81, she broke 10 ia into some exu.tat
hymn Of praise, IN which stephen ile