Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-09-22
THE CALIFORNIANS,
BY JULES VERNE.

By JULES NERNEs
 Copyright 1891 by the Authors Alliance.
 AS tnls word again fell from 0o1 frey's lips, Molly lost all control over herself. Her bosom heaved convulsive- as her breath came and went in sob like catches. She turned, and throw ing both her arms around the sailor lads neck, drew his head with wild and impassioned outburst of feeling close and tight against her bosom. For few seconds there was a deep and painful silence, broken only by the sound of Molly's breathing, then with little joyful cries mingled with ill-suppressed sobs, that mothers heart emptied out its long pent up grief in a shower of kisses and ca- resses, which Godfrey was neither loath nor slow to return. Zach looked on with wide-opened eyes and parted lips, seemingly paralyzed by what was being enacted before him.
 "Oh, the poor woman! the poor rVom- amp he groaned. "What will become of her!''
 Suddenly Molly, with an almost su- perhuman effort, drew herself to- gether and succeeded in checking this outburst of feeling. Then with her arm wound affectionately around God frey's neck, she led him to the door, kissed him, and said:
 "Go, my dear child, go. need to be be alone. I'll see you again soon very soon."
 The lad turned, and fixing his large dark eyes inquiringly upon the beapti- ful face halted for an instant, then passed out of sight. Zach made a move ment as if to follow Godfrey, but Molly, who was still prey to the widest emo- tion, made sudden gesture which caused him to close the door again.
 Don't go, Zach"
 "Madam, madam" urged French, ''calm yourself, for Heavens sake; your health will suffer; you'll not be in a condition to superintend the vast details of the expedition which you are to set on foot upon your arrival in Adelaide. implore you be calm, be strong" Zach, Zach," she burst out, paying no heed to the mans words. Zach, this child was raised in the Walter home. He was born in San Diego; he is fourteen or fifteen years of age; in features he bears a strong resemblance to John. He has that same open, manly bearing, that strong love of the ocean. He must be a sailors son, Zach. Oh, Zach, he is Johns son-he is mine The world thinks that the dark waters of the bay of San Diego swallowed up that dear little baby, but no, oh, no, no, he | was not drowned. God knows he was not; some one rescued him-some low ing hands reached out for him as he went floating along on the bosom of those dark waters; they didn't know whose child he was-how could they? They didn't know what mother was stretching out her pleading hands to Heaven, but I was there all the time, my poor mind darkened and clouded with not faint glimmer of hope to save me from insanity. Oh, Zach, my friend, my dear friend, tell you this is my child-this is my little Walter, my son. God has had mercy on me at last. He has given him back to me-" l Molly's voice died away. She could not utter another word. Her transports choked her, pressed the very life out of her. She could only hold out her hands toward the honest seaman, her stanch and loyal friend, as if imploring him to speak, to agree with her, to admit that it must be so, that the proof was over whelming.
 Zach stood for a moment in perfect silence, his lips closed. His eyes took on hard and unsympathetic look, his whole face and being underwent a sud- den and complete change. He stood there like man resolved to be honest at all hazards, to speak the truth, nc matter how it might stab a mothers tender heart. He had listened in silence to all she had to say. Possibly he should not have done so, possibly he should have stopped Molly at the outset. little cruelty at first might hay, prevented all this. However, it was toC late to speculate now as to what h, should have done. What he should d, now was the question, and like a mal who never shrinks backward when dut, bids him go ahead, he spoke out firmly plainly, almost cruelty:
 Mrs. Allaire, you are deceiving your self. I cannot, must not permit yo, to believe what is not so. This resem
 blance between this sailor lad and Capt - John is an accidental one, such as oftel
 happens in life. Your little Walt
 dead-yes, dead! He perished in tn
 narbor that dreadful day. I saw hir
 go down forever! Godfrey is not you . son."
 "You say Walter is dead?" cried Mrs
 A1laire, starting forward with a wild
 defiant look in her eyes. "How do yo
 know it? Who can say it of his ow /. knowledge?"
 'I, madam"
 "You?"
 "Yes, madam. Listenl Eight day
 after that terrible accident the body ( = an infant was washed up on the beac
 at Point Loma. I-I-found it an
 hastened to inform MT. Hollister. H
 recognized little Walt, whom he cause
 to be secretly buried in the cemetery (
 San Diego. We were the only mourn 10 CTS, the only ones to strew flowers upo
 that little grave"
 "Walt, my little Walt, buried in tl ' cemetery" sobbed Molly, piteousl
 "and none ever told me of it."
 "No madam" said Zach solemnl