The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-04-06

boy, and I've give him one o. your rings to
bring me news now and then. | think he'd
do more for you If we tried. Don't YOU
give up SO easy; who knowsl you may be a
fine lady yet, and riding in your carriage
every daym
But Jess face had grown sad.
TITS no use, Granny" she said, 81 don't
love me- And if he had loved me- he
would have found me before now. He's had
plenty of time. He hasn't been i'll all these
long, dreary months-it's no good telling
me that
"But it would be good for baby if YOU
were rich, my dear" argued Mrs. Flint, with
extraordinary mildness.
'Not if l was miserable" Jess answered,
with a touch of her old spirit; and then, in
lower tone: II should be very miserable
if had to live with George and he didn't
love me. couldn't bear it. Pm far hap
pier now. as am, with nobody but baby. l
don't care for anybody else"
'But if you could be rich with baby, and
without George, my dear? If you could
take baby into the country and show her
the pretty trees, and get nice things for
her, and never have to do any work-what
thenf'
''Ah, that would be just like heaven r
said jess, with deep sigh Of longing. "But
| shall never be able to do all that"
You may If you like" said the old wo-
man, in a whisper
What, Grannyl"
"lf tell you something, Jess, will you
promise me not to go for to bear malice and
put me in prison or get Stephen to send me
TO the workhouses For allus meant we'll
by you. Jess, though / may have hit bit
hard now and then; but it was not my
meaning to do SO, aud L know you're
good girl to your Granny. So promise me,
my dear, as you won't do me no HARM and
then I'll tell you great big secret, and
you will be rich lady one Of these days,
maybe"
''I'll never do anything to harm you,
Granny"
ION yer oath and word Of honor!'
YES
Say it" urged Granny, feverishly. ''Say,
on my word and honor I'll not hurt YOU nor
punish you if you've done me any wrong, so
help me Godp
jess repeated the formula rather lau-
guldly. She had no falth IN the import.
ance of Granny's revelations. But Granny
looked excited, her eyes began TO CLEAN, and
she raised herself little on one elbow as she
you're gentlemans daughter, Jess
You're real lady born"
"A real lady born" replied jess. "But
rm-Pm-your granddaughter, Grannyp
well, so you may be, and yet gentle
mans daughter" said Mrs Flint, triumph
antly. You're a lady born on your
fathers side, and he was capting in the
army"
1.-THE Salvationsn asked jess.
mo, you little fool. There weren't no
Salvations in them days. l tell you he was
a captain i'll the army, the real British
army, and maybe general after that, il
he'd lived long enough, but he died while
you were babe in armsl Yes, that was
your father, and a very fine gentleman he
was. can tell you. You're like him your
self in some ways"
"But-out-n
face; there was a question in her ewes
which she did not dare to put. Mrs. Flint
answered it unconsciously in her next SEN
telca.
II saw 'em married with my own ewes 10
Saint Pankridge's church, did. My daugh-
ter Mary-a beauty she was too and Capt.
Gerald Armstrong. That was your fathers
name. my dear, and you've no call to be
ashamed of ii"
30, Granny, tell me all about it," said
jess. eagerly.
There amt 50 much to tell, said
Granny, rather Grossly land if it weren't
for this blessed lamb, I'd not bother my
head about it. But It's shame to keep her
out of her rights, the precious, ami when
you're rich and a fine lady, Jess, YOU can
Snap your fingers at Mr.. Eastwood and
Stephen, too, ana bring up your own little
girl 10 your own way"
"Was my father rich, them" said jess.
"Welf, not when l knew him. But mis-
father was, and oil his family. Mary was
not fine enough for the likes O. them; they
wouldn't hive nought to say to her. And
for fear of offending his father, the capting
wouldn't say nought about her to him"
Just like me and George escaped from
Jess lips.
SAY, SO l thoughr. These things often
runs in families" said Mrs. Flint in a salts
fed tone why, l myself had off 4rs by
the dozen when was gal, from gentlemen
as good as your George Eastwood. or Capt.
Armstrong either. Rut | always 'eld my
'ead Ugh, and wouldn't listen to Them. And
glad am as done it, for neither you nor
Mary's come to good through listening to
fue gentlemen"
''Nhat became of my mother?' asked the
girl, breathlessly.
after they was married." Mrs. Flint
went on narratively (Which l saw with my
own eyes at st. Pankridge church, and
there can't therefore, be any mistake about
it), Mr.. Armstrong took Mary away to the
country, and there she wrote Inc that they
had sweet little cottage, all overgrowin'
with roses, which | should think very UNI
ealthy myself, and apt to breed fevers and
earwigs. However, she seemed really to
like it. And you was born there, JESS at
little village near Savenoaks in Kent. /
don't rightly mind the name, but there was
a river in it, and if you went down you
could easy fad out. Your fathers people
lived in the north, and that was why he
went aad lived in the south. Then a war
began, away IN Indy or somewhere, and he
went out to it and got killed there. And
when Mary heard the news, she took to her
bed and never got up again. She died in a
week, and there | was left with you on
my lands, and not sixpeace to bring you up
with"
"You were very good to be bothered with
me. Granny said Jess, gently.
II was nigh sendin' you to the work
house, replied Granny. in a truculent
manner. s'and | almost wish / had. But
Thought your fathers folks 'ud take you in.
So | tranped away wi you to Yorkshire,
where they lived, and then asked to see
the old gent, which he was Mr.. Gerald's
father and some sort of a lawyer, believe.
Well. I saw him, and he wouldn't listen to
me. He said was trying to extort money
on false pretenses, and that bis son was not
married and that il didn't get out OF the
house. he'd lock me up in prison for SIX
months as a tramp and vagabond. And
be could ha' done 1t, for be was great gen.