The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-05-29
ow FIRST PUBLISHED
CHAPTER XXVu-CoNr1Nurp.

absent from her under such circumstances
before, aud she had, Of course, no guess as
TO the nature of the business which took him
from her side She wondered in vain what
could have taken him to Richmond, and
what could have made him aware of Heth-
eridge's Illness The dreadful thought even
assailed her that George might have been so
angry at Hetheridge's bargain with her
that be might have assaulted and danger
ously injured him, and that the illness Of
which the telegram gave intelligence might
be the result of her boys violence. She
feared this in spite of the knowledge that
George was by nature a most good-tempered
and amiable fellow, but she had seen him
enraged at mesnness, treachery and cruelty,
as his father had often bsen before him, and
guessed an overwhelming passion, if
aroused, TO revenge or defend anything he
loved.
Enice received the newe of Hetheridge's
illness with no overwhelming grief or
anxiety. 1t had been one Of the problems
of life with her which she was never tired OF
propounding to herself-Why did she not
love her fathers Her indifference to him
had made her feel criminal q thousand
times There is no such enemy to peace Of
conscience as a good and sensitive girl at a
certain period Of her life. She sets herself
in everything standard Of perfection, and
hourly trying herself in a self-appointed
court Of judicature, brings in q verdict Of
guilty over crimes at which a male child Of
would chucxe. What affection she had
for her supposed father was purely Of the
dutiful sort. 1t had no JUNCTION in it. There
was nothing natural or spontaneous in her
thoughts of him. No little gushes of affec-
ton at the prospect Of meeting him. No
fear of being parted No delight in his
presence, or in his cold and most infrequent
letters. The absence Of these things which
lacked in her was of course attributable to
her own wicked and unfilial GOODNESS, and
yet she knew that she was not cold to other
people. Like Mrs. Brownings Kate, she
"loved all things, men and flies" Birds and
animals and children were her special
friends. She had warm heart even for the
Rev. Jordan Farrell, whose conventional
brain, precise demeanor, and thin nature
enlisted little affection Ia the world at large.
She had friendly feeling for almost every
body she encountered, and only her father
stood outside the pale of her affections.
This was intolerably wicked, thing TO be
prayed over, and wept over, but, after
many years OF patient doctoring, obviously
past cure.
She cried at her own want of feeling,
but save for accusing conscience the thought
of her fathers danger gave her but little
pain. She would have gone to any stranger
in the like distress and would have smoothed
his pillow with an equal care.
Mrs. Redwood decided TO accompany her
upon her journey and so two self-aocusing
consclences Travelled together, for do what
ste would, the widow could not resist a
secret joy at the probability of her escape
from match, the bore thought Of which
had been so painful to her.
Long before their arrival at Richmond
the eminent London physician had seen the
patient. He, like his humb bier colleague,
had declined to pronounce en- absolute YER
dict on the case, but admitted it to be dan
gerously critical. When Ellice met him on
his second visit there were tears OF self-ac>
cusation in her eyes, and here again was
material for an oversens. i've conscience to
work upon. She was cOldly indifferent
while her father lay dying, and the great
London doctor would ina zine that she was
as tenderly interested as any natural and
dutiful daughter would be.
DO you still think my fathers illness
DANCE. ousF she asked.
"lt would he unwise,n the eminent phy-
siciau responded. lit would even be cruel
not to tel you the case is serious. 1t is not
hopeless, bat l can give you no more cheer
iag news than that. Recovery is possible
We must hope for the best. / am not in
expectation If any immediate change, but
the momentary indications are more favor
able: Il little more favorable than those Of
yes erday.n
Ia brief, the man lay between life aud
death for weeks; the balance wavering
family now this way, now that. At length
a airs began 10 take more decided course.
Little 10y little be revived and gathered
stre1gl b, and at last Re was SO far recov-
cred as to be pushed about in a wheeled
cAair on sunny DAYS. 1t was evident, how
ever that the prime of bis life was passed
Tor good ard for all, and that no return to
anything approaches to his pristine actv-
ity was possible. HIS mind was as much
effected as his body. He could no more
grasp mental conclusion than be could
walk.
During the whole period of his partial re-
covesy E.lice had Ii, ed in practical soli-
tuds, her only conpanionship an aching
heart. George had gore away from Rich
moId without seeing her. He wrote to her
no" and again. tut hiI letters were hard
matter OF fact, and cold. they held not one
word of love, and oil those little touches Of
affectionste uadnage with viii n the cor
respondence Of lovers is familiar were ban
ishhed from his reluctant aid seanty pages
Whom she reproached him with these facts.
and told MIN In one lmpGssioned letter that
she lad never SO felt the need of his love as
now, the poor LAD wept not tears OF anguish
over her words in his own room, but wrote
an answer cold as charity.
Whilst Eulce, in his imagination, trem-
bled for her fathers life, he felt he must
needs delsy the blow which should cut
asunder forever the tie that bound their
hearts. He could not prevail on himself to
leave England at this time, and with some
difficulty, and at the risk of losing the en-
Ragement he had entered. he had deferred
the acceptance of it for three months.
The news of the sick mans mendinr
reached him when his time was nearly nm
and on his receipt of it he announcei to
Mrs. Redwood his intention to start at once
for the continent.
You will go to Richmond and see
Ellice, hrstP the mother asked.
He looked up at her with mournful eyes
which seemed governed In his head. and
gave mere negative sigh.
George" his mother besought him
what has happened to youi What has
changed yous You never kept any of your
pleasures o. troubles from me till lately.
but now sop tell me nothing. l see you
pins stid pine away. Yvu groau il your
s:eep a. night, and hear you walk about
your room for hours. You eat nothing.
You care about nothing. Eltice is breaking
her heart for you. What is the matter.
darling! Tell me. Surely your mother has
right to know"
You'll think speak in foolish riddles.