The Progress. (Shreveport, La.) 1892-1900, 1892-09-10

little gap DetWccH tlic NooAo hou"N 49,
old Mr.. Simons' place, where she could
catch distant glimpse of the hills with
the yellow foliage shining against the
blue like golden pillows frinSed with
flame. The pale glimIncr of the fad
ing willows, the white stems OF youne
birches seen through thinning wells OF
leaves, seemed like new and delightful
picture. Today there were no troops OF
school children passing by with theiI
dinner baskets and books, but great
company of cmigrating birds settled
down in her front yard, preened thci1
feathers and consulted together with
noisy talk on the wall, and ut last rose
and flew away with great whlr oil
wings The smallest incident made her
happy.
1t was easier to love her neighbors
when her head ached less and the hllns
of weakness. spotted with black, ceased
to dance before her eyes. She held up
the little rose colored garment she was
making in her thin. pale fingers, and felt
an unusual sense of comfort and warmth
steal over her as she listened to the sof.
swapping of the logs on the old brass
andirons. The large empty house seemed
warmer and cozier now TINT she knew
Sister Martha was speeding homeward
on the train. In country phrase Mrs.
Whitcumb was mo company" for her
sister-in-law. They could not find com
mon meeting ground, and to have her in
the house, even though unseen, brought
with it sense of oppression.
Meantime the captain sat Just where
his visitor had left him, when she closed
the front door and he heard her foot
steps retreating down the walk. He felt
utterly weak and unmanned; the water
stood in great drops on his forehead AZ
he lived over the scene and saw what
was III his heart when he was tempted
to clutch the womans throat. He had
knocked down a mutinous sailor once on
shipboard with Delaying pin, and no
remembered having had the same sensa-
tons then, before the fellow began to
show signs Of life. But there were other
things to think of, terrible as that muir
derous impulse looked to him, and deep
as was tho precipice over whose brink
he had taken flying glimpse.
The confession Of that woman came
back to him bit by bit out of the turmoil
of his sensations. He saw how poor
Viaie had been trickcd by Martha Whit
cumb and Ter own mother. who was
rabid to seize upon any ruinor to his
hurt, however black. But Vinie had
loved him all the time. Her soul, inno-
cent and white, had taken no STAIN
Even if she believed he had wrouged
her she had forgiven him. She had
faded and withered and suffered in
silence through the years, but had kept
a glimmer of trust in him alive in her
gentle heart. She had sat by her win
dow to watch him as he passed with
averted head. She had listened for his
footsteps ard lived on the signs of his
cxistence--the smoke going up from his
chimney, the light in his window, had
known when he came and when he
went, had trained her ear to catch all
reports of him in the wind.
He felt his strength quite broken as
he sat there with his dark head in his
hands, and the tears began slowly to
trickle through his brown fingers. The
impress of the mothers hard. unjust
words seemed all washed away by those
drops wrung from the soul of a stalwart
man, to whom an outward show of emo
ton was kind of agony. George Dligh
had shed no tears when his mother died
or when be buried his last sister and
was left alone. But now he was crying
like child. These were the drops OF
awe and pity that are said to purge and
purify the heart.
he never knew how long he thus sat-
The sunlight faded out of the room and
travelled westward. His Maltese cat
jumped upon the table, stepping softly
among the neglected dishes. The par
rot, in weak, cracked voice, kept scold
ing and fussing about on his perch.
"Hullo. George" he would cry, don't
he fool" lie had lived long time on
shipboard. and the sailors had taught
him the use of bad language. and some
times he varied his advice to George by
the introduction of ''swear" word.
But the captain did not hear him. He
was reviewing all his past. He seemed