The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1891-03-08


Another incident at this time also told
Miss Drummond, but too plainly, how the
wound still ranked sorely IN Helen's heart.
OnChris mas eve huge packet arrived from
Brackenford containing presents for all the
inhabitants of Ardleigh House, warm
dresses and pretty gifts, and among these
was a jewel-case directed in Lady Ennis
mors's handwriting for Helen.
But Helen did not open it.
MAY then, Hslsa" said Miss Drum
mond, and she lifted the case and touched
the spring. inside was a very handsome
gold necklace, with diamond locket at
tached, but as Miss Drummond was admir-
ing it, Helen locked at it irdifferenIly, and
shortly aftsrward left the room, leaving the
case lying neglected on the table.
This was very significant to Miss Drum
mond, but half an hour later she carried
the necklace in its morocco case up to
You forgotisyour necklace, my DEAR
she said, laying it down on the dressing
table.
mo Aunt Margaret, did not forget it
but cannot take it, so will you kindly re-
turn it to Lady Ennismore," answered
Helen, quietly.
"But, Helen, that would seem so ungra-
cious.n
81 cannot take it." repeated Helen; and
oOhlSAulnk W bOAo UhuueT
Miss Drummond it was useless to argue
with her, so she carried the necklace away,
but she did not send it back to the donor
whom she knew would be greatly hurt if
she thought her gift were refused.
"What ri ght has she to send me presents
when she has spoilt my lifep reflected
Helen, bitterly, when her aunt had left.
And her spirit grew so dark within her that
it seemed impossible to her to go on leading
her present life.
II shall go mad if stay on here day after
day, always the samel" she said aloud, in
the bitterness Of her heart. 81 must work;
l must have something TO occupy my miad
or 1t will break down, and the tragedy will
be complete"
And this idea grew upon her. and as the
chill, dreary January days crspt on, one
dull afternoon, ju.t when darkness was
creeping down ever the grey hills, and when
aunt and niece we're sitting almost in silence
by the Pickering freight, Helen suddenly
broke her long silence on the one absorbing
thought in her mind.
Aunt Margaret, want to tell you some
thing" she said.
Eyes, nv dear"
~ have thought of IL a long while" con-
tinued Helen, excitedlY, "but can't go on
something 10 do; something that will stop
me thinking and thinking until am nearly
madn
You mean you wish to leave Ardleieh.
HeleD| asked Margaret Drummond gently.
Yes, for l can't stay-l hate TO stay"
II have sometimes thought Of this, too
thought that a change would be good for
you"
Il mean to make my own living. Won
know; aud go into the world and work.
Many girls do"
'But there is no occasion for this, my
dear; you are amply provided for"
u cannot touch that moneyn cried
Helen, pGssio nately, starting to her feet.
and beginning TO pace the room. 81 will
earn my own bread-the other is too Bit
ter"
Margaret Drummond, still sitting by the
fire, sighed deeply.
ut has been one long bitterness -" she said
in low tone; "but l hoped that you might
be spared it, Helen. prayed Lady Ennis
more to spare you burden tco heavy for
your youug life"
"And she would mott should rather that
she had struck me dead, Aunt Margaret,
than told me what she did,"
Her reasons we're very strong, Helen"
Don't let us speak Of 1t; but what want
to speak of is about my going away. Do you
think could teach singing, Aunt Margaret.
or be gOverness2"
"Oh, dear child. don't talk of such a
thing!"
"But | must; | cannot bear this life really
any longer. | am sorry to part with you,
dear Aunt Margaret; but must GO"
You will not part with me, Helen
where you wish TO 60 | will 60"
mo, will not accept such sacrifice as
that; you shall not give up your comfort
able home to follow my struggles. But it's
the struggles | want, aunt-something TO
deaden the -"
'My dear child" said Miss Drummond,
pltifully, rising, and putting her hand on
Helen's arm; 81 fear you have suffered very,
very muchF'
Helen made no answer for a moment or
two, but Margaret Drumnond felt her form
quiveriug beneath her touch.
II want TO change my name,n said Helen
presently, in broken voice; II want no one
to know where l arm gone-but you, Aunt
Margaret"
''You would not really leave me, Heleag'
Il cannot say"
"But we will 20 together, dear. Helen,
when you were born, took you to my arms,
and promised you shelter there-do not
leave me until die?"
IF you knew all you would not ask me
to stay. l am afraid Of myself here"
Hush, hush, dear child, do not excite
yourself. promise you we shall go where
ever you wish"
You are always very good to me, Aunt
Margaret" said Helen, penitently, and she
kissed Miss Drummond's cheek, and the two
stood Handicapped for few minutes in
silence, each thinking Of the bitter sorrow
of their lives.
Then presently Elizabeth brought in the
lighted lamp, and for while the subject
was dropped, only, however, to be rene wed
later in the evening By Helen. And she
would not consent to Miss Drummond's pro-
posal that they should leave Ardleigh alto
gether.
That would mean taking Elizabeth, you
know, aunt, and thus everything would seem
almost the same. What | want ia to go
among strangers; to go alone to fight my
own way in the world"
You do not know what it is, Helen"
said Miss Drummond, sorrowfully
And her heart felt very sore within her as
she spoke. That this child Of her love whom
she had reared SO tenderly, should wish TO
leave her, seemed a heavy blow to her
bruised spirit. But she underst )od the
CALLED pride, the restless misery that die
tated Helen's words. She wished to leave all
her surroundings, to seek forgetfulness in
other scenes, and among unfamiliar faces.
At least do nothing rash, my DEAR she
said, presently.
''And-and, Aunt Margaret, don't want
Lady Ennismore TO know where | go, or
what I ain doing.n
'But, Helen"
You must promise me thisP said Helen,
eagerly.
aHaIsn. I cannot nromise--Iadv Ennia.