Evening journal., 1892-01-04
SARAH GEAKES PRAYER.


clients that if girl bury her faithless
lovers coat be Will come back to her
knew the superstition fingered along
the country side and was sworn to find
1t. But, like a shy and rare flower. il
eluded search. The laborers and their
wives smoothed all intelligence out Of
their faces As soon as began 20 hint 1T it.
But such is the way Of them. They were
my good friends, bat had no mind TO help
me ia this Nobody who has not lived
long with them can divine the number Of
small ineommunicahle mysteries and racial
secrets ehambered ia their inner hearts
and guarded by their hospitable faces.
| These alone the Celt withholds from the
Saxon and when he dies they are buried
with him.
a chance word or two Of my old nurse,
/ by chance caught tn some Granny Of a
child's memory and recovered after many
/ days, told me that the charm was still
| practiced by the woman folk, or had been
prauticed not long before her death Sol
began to hunt for il, and almost as soon
to believe the search hopeless. The new
/ generation Of girls, with their smart
frocks, in fashion not more than six
months behind London, their board school
notions andtAeir consuming ambition to
"lOok like q laayn-were these likely 10
cherish a local custom a. primitive as the
/ long stone circles on the tors abovef But
they were Cornish, and Of that race it is
unwise TO judge rashly. For years l had
never a clew, and then, by Sheba farm, ia
a forsaken angle Of the coast, surprised the
secret
Sbeba farm stands high above Ruan
sands, over which its windows flame at
sunset And / sat In the farm kitchen
drinking cider and eating potato cake,
while the farmers wife. Mrs. Bolverson,
obligingly attended to my coat, which had
just been soaked BY a thunder shower 1t
was August, and already the sun beat out
again, fierce and strong. The brightdrops
that gemmed the tamarisk bushes above
the wall Of the town place were already
fading under its heat, and I beard the
voices Of the harvestera up the lane "a they
returned 70 the oat field, whence the storm
had routed them. A bright parallelogram
stretched from the window across the
white kitchen table and reached the dim
hollow Of the open fireplace Mrs. Bolyer-
son drew the towel horse, on which my
coat was stretched between it and the
wood fire. which las she heidi the sunshine
would put out
TITS uncommonly kind OF you, Mrs Boil
yerson,n said |. as she turned one sleeve 81
the coat toward the heat. ITO be sure. il
the women in these parts would speak out,
some Of them have done more than that
for the men with an old cont
She dropped the sleeve, faced around and
eyed me.
"What do you know Of that?n she asked
slowly and as II her chest frightened over
the words She was a woman Of fifty and
more, 81 fine figure but a worn face. Her
chief surviving beauty was a pile OF light
golden hair, still lustrous as q girls. But
her blue eyes-though now they narrowed
on me snspiciously-mus have looked out
magnifcently in their day.
~ fancy" said l. meeting them frankly
enough, THAT what you know and ! don't
on that matter would make good deal
She laughed harshly, almost savagely.
you'd better ask Sarah Geake, across
the eoombe. She buried a mans clothes
one time--it might be worth your while 70
ask her what came o. it,"
IL You can imagine the glimmer OF moon
light running up the blade Of a rapier, You
may know the chill flame Of spite and de-
spite that dickered Ia her eyes then as she
spoke.
; II take my oath" whispered to myself,
! "Ill act on the invitation
The woman stood straight upright with
her hands clasped behind her, before the
deal table. She gaged under lowered
hrows, straight out Of the window, and
following that gaze, / saw across the
coombe a mean mud hut. with a mud wall
around il, that looked upon Sheba farm
with the obtrusive humility Of poor rela.
Z ton.
Does she--does Sarah Geoke live down
Z yonderY"
What IS that to youy she inquired
tiercely, and then was silent for moment.
Z and added, with another short laugh, NJ
reckon ia like the question put to Ter;
but doubt you've got the pluck
You shall see,' said l; and taking my
: coat on the towel horse slipped IL on.
: She did not turn-did not even move her
head when | thanked her for the shelter
i and walked cut Of the house.
Z could feel those steel blue eyes working
7. like gimlets into my back a. strobe dowT
the hill and passed the wooden plank that
lay across the stream at It's foot A clint
Of less than minute brought me to III,
green gate in The wall OF Sarah Geake',
4 garden patch; and here took look back
70 ward and upward at Sheba The sun Ia,
4 warm on its white walls, and the Who'll,
Z building shone against the burned hillside
y " was too far away for me TO spy Mrs
bolyerson's blue print gown within th
kitchen window, but knew that she stoo,
there yet.
p The sound Of a footstep made me turn
o, A woman was coming around the CORNER
% the cottage with bundle OF mint ID he
It hand.
p She looked at me, shook OF bee tia
had Numbered against her apron an
looked at me again--a brown woman. lea
and strongly made, with iet black ewes q
- deep and glistening In an ugly face
You want TO know your wayfp Sd
asked.
mo. Icame 70 see you, il your name
cal Sarah Geake."
"a Sarah Ann Geake is my name. What ;.
Of wants"
ls. I took sudden resolution to tell Ii
he exact truth.
OF Mrs Geake, the fact is I am curior
1871 about an old charm that was practiced
he these parts, as / know. till recently. III
DR.. charm is this: When woman guesses h,
lu- lover to be faithless to her she buries a su
Fas Of his old clothes to fetch him back to he
Of Mrs. Bolyerson, up at Sheba yonder''---
Of The old woman had opened her monl
as las know now to curse me. But as Mr.