The Indianapolis journal., 1892-11-06

There might surely be an exception maoe
here.
lie is o strange, unsociaole creature"
says one of the Mrs Candours of the neigh
borhood. Il am the last person In the
world TO speak i'll of another, but at times
really do think that Mr.. De Ia Poer IS IN
escaped convict. Dear Mr.. Dsrradale Is SO
confidinG. so unsuspicious. SO broad, and
WIDE" she says. sighlng-the adlectives, OF
course. referring 10 the good rectOr's mind.
not TO his personal appearance. :,
An escaped convict There scarcely could
be more ridiculous theory. Phlllipps
thinks, deciding that this lady mas prob
ably been chief builder of the wall of
mystery. But whatsoever may be said OF
Mr.. De la Poer in other respects. no one
eau find fault with his treatment OF his
boy or question his affection. The sad.
grave face lights up at sight of BERTHE, and
is transtigured. He seems content with
this companionship. and seeks no other.
Often they are seen wandering away to-
gether to the woods or the commons. BERTHE
carried shoulder high, laughing and tri-
umphant.
A breath OF excitement passes through
Waterfalls; Lord Wizard Is coming home.
and the chimneys CT the great house are
beginning TO send up smoke signals. Peo-
pie wonder if he will Zen tertain." if he will
bring down q shooting party, and the
tradesfolk rub expectant hands, for his
lordship maintains his establishment on q
liberal scale and there is no cheeseparing
in his household.
"What has become of my little sweet
hearth wonders PhillIppa one memo rable
day when two or three days have slipped
away without bringing BERTHE to the rec-
tory. Perhaps Mr.. De la Poer tanks he is
being spoiled among u.s."
She has Just come in from q walk and
meet her uncle at the gate to be struck by
his unusual gravity.
This is sad news" he says. Poor little
De la Poer is down with the diphtheria."
"Ob. uncle. But how did it roach himf"
'Why, the boy Colson has it badly ard
that stupid mother of his allowed Berthe to
across from his father to ask for Jim-miss-
ing HIM, suppose-and she must needs take
the child into the very room. / told her
what thought of her. NO wonder the
sickness is spreading"
us BERTHE very illr she falters.
IL fear so. l shall 90 back later on.
though assure you, feel very helpless in
this case. hope the child may be spared"
And the rectors kind eyes rest on his own
darlings, healthful, happy and numerous,
and grow dim as he thinks of the tiny.
pain blanched face he had just seen. What
If the one sun beam on a dark and lonely
way be quenched. What Will follow such
less! Yet. what is Christianity worth
If We cannot submit. without question,
to supreme wisdom and omniscient
guidance He has several duty calls 10 pay
several sick-beds to visit. before he can 90
to the cottage whero the De la Peers live.
to it he sees the well-known figure dilating
through the twilight more and more, until
they are face to face. Ihe question falls
eagerly from his lips: How is Bertlef Is
he betterf"
"Yes. He il better"
Something in the tone. and no less in the
manner. strikes strangely to the clergy
mans senses, and hot flush of anxiety
rises to lis temples. De la Poer looks at
i him with lightless, languid eyes
tsSinco n Al led half an h0ur nj Co ~ ha aava
in cold. steady tones. perhaps l should
say that he is we'll"
Mr.. Darradale chokes. He has no words
of comfort ready-being overpowered by
his own grief for the child who has
laughed his way into every heart. The
man suddenly turns aside. bowIng his head
upon his arm.
"Oh. my God, my dear little boyw he
down oil his selt-restraint and lonR-studied
control 1t is, however. only for a moment;
then ne stands erect, his teeth set hard on
his lips. and IN reply TO the recJor's ques-
tion if be can do any thing. says. mo, there
is nothing to be done"-not ungratefully,
but with a treading down of his own emo
tions which may be habitual, and which
conveys the impression that to him life
means only endurance.
The rector goes home. using his handker-
chief q great DEAL and tells them there
what has happened; the children listen in
awe, though unable quite To realize the
meaning of death; but Phillippa breaks
down altogether for sake of her little
sweetheart.
And can't we do any thing for Mr.. De Ia
Poeri asks Mrs. Darradale. 1T Is so sad
that he should be left alone"
II fancy he prefers it," says the rector.
He was right.
After the quiet funeral the rector detains
the only mourner. who has stood silent and
self possessed during the mournful service
"a vein standing out in his forehead alone
betrsying by what an S effort he preserves
his shoulder.
II do not like to think of you alone, and
unconsciously encouraging sorrow by soil =
tude," he says. Il should be glad if you
would walk over to my house before Ion O:
you will meet only myself and my wife,
promise"
Thank you," returns De la Poer. I'm
deed, have much to thank you for. but /
am unable to do so yet A great deal-per-
haps. indeed. all-the happiness of Bertie's
lfe.here was due to the kindness of you
and yours. But believe me that at present
am best alone"
Still. the rector feels that the "at present"
10 concession, and implies that at some
future time De 10 Poer may yield.
Phillippa chokes when. for the first time,
she sees the tiny grave. The sad. still au-
tumn air IL heavy with scent of fading
flowers. There is everywhere that hush,
only one step removed from perfect silence
Wnen Tue Iaueu leaI lall6 wlJnouJ 6OunQ
and the long grass stirs with scarcely q
rustic. The church is open, and she hears
the organ throbbing. Her eyes fill. When
to her the death of this little one has been
80 much, what is it to the man left DESC
late? How can she grasp the fullness of
bis pain, comprehend the depth OF his sor-
row, the vain hardening for the lisping lit
tie voice, the patterng feet. the useless
longing for the innocent companiOnshiD
and love?
When she raises her head, she sees Do Ia
Poer standing before her. He looks more
cadaverOus than ever. more attenuated.
but she sees him only for u moment before
tears blind her. She has thought that (
they met she would speak to him consoling-
ly; and after all she can only cry.
Il am SO sorry for you" at len 9Th she said.
and can say no more: but the words eX-
press that pure compassion which surely is
true womanhood.
Thank you," he says, with dry lips;
''you were always good to him, and be
loved you. i find some comfort the
knowledge that lie had won SO much atfec-
ton; it means that his little life was hap
py.'
lie stops and looks silently at the flowers
she has laid on the grave; and, much
moved, thanks her by q gesture.
As she goes home pony phaeton is driv-
en- past by handsome. happy Lord Willard;
who is instructing his son and heir in the
mysteries of the reins. The girl feels an
odd reaeprmepr of his good forfpua of h,s