Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-04-01


 all again with a newspaper and 8 stout twine string which he took from his pocket; then they went away together, the officer carrying the bundle and the child trotting contentedly in the lee of | him. They seemed to be old acQuaint- | ances.
 Nothing else happened along to amuse him, so MT. Cumberland let the velvet folds fall back in their place and came over to th fire. He had been suffering with he y cold, and found confne. ment to the house in the last degree irk- some. His wife was too much engrossed with her book to be willing to lay it aside for his entertainment, and he spurned her suggestion of the evening paper, so there was nothing for it but to sulk over a cigar and audibly curse the weather.
 A sharp ring at the doorbe1, tardily answered by servant, and then foot steps approached the parlor door. Hus- band and wife looked up with interest with expectation. Was it visitor? No; only the servant with a telegram, which he handed MT. Cumberland and then withdrew.
 Cecil turned the thin envelope in his hand inquisitively. He was fond of hay ing everything pass through his own hands-of knowing all the ins and outs, the minutie of daily happenings.
 "What is it?" questioned Ethel indo- lently.
 "A dispatch for you. Shall I open it?''
 'If you like. hate dispatches. They always suggest unpleasant possibilities. 
 about that rubbishing dinner of hers."
 Cecil tore open the envelope and read the few words it contained with a length ening visage; then he let his hand fall and stared blankly across at his wife.
 "It's from that fellowi and it's about the child" he said uneasily.
 "What fellowP What child? Not minel Give it to me quickly, Cecil. How slow you are!'' And she snatched the telegram from his unresisting hand. Hastily she scanned the words, her breath coming in gasps, her fingers trembling so that she could scarcely hold the paper. "The child is dying. Come at oncep That was all, and the message was signed Nesbit Thorne. Short, curt, peremptory, as our words are apt to be in moments of intense emotion; 8 bald fact roughly stated.
 For a moment Ethel Cumberland sat stunned, with pallid face and shaking hands, from which the message slipped and futtered to the carpet. Then she sprang to her feet in wild excitement, an instinct aroused in her breast which even animals know when their young are in danger.
 "Cecilw she cried sharply, "don't you hear? My child! My baby is dying! Why do you stand there staring at me? must go-you must take me to him now, this instant, or it will be too late. Don't you understand? My darling-my boy is dyingl" and she burst into a pas sion of grief, wringing her hands and wailing. ''Go! send for 8 carriage. There's not a moment to lose. Oh, my baby!-my babyi"
 "You can't go out in this storm. It's sleeting heavily, and I've been i'll. I can't let you go all that distance with only maid, and how am to turn out in such weather?" objected MT. Cumber- ] land. who, when he was opposed to a ] thing, was an adept in piling up obsta- cles. "I tell you it's impossible, Ethel. It's madness on such a night as this"
 
 Ethel, whose feelings, if evanescent, were intense. "I will go, Cecill don't want you, I'll go by myself. Nothing shall stop me. If it stormed fire and blood I should go all the same. I'll l walk-I'l crawl there before will stay l here and let my boy die without me. He | is my baby-my own child, tell you, Cecil!-if he isn't yours"
 l Of this fact Cecil Cumberland needed ! no reminder. It was thorn that pricked and stung even his dull nature-for the child's father lived. To jealous tenn. perament it is galling to be reminded of predecessor in a wife's affections, even when the grave has closed over him; if the man still lives it is intolerable.
 He was not brute, and he knew that he must yield to his wife's pressure-that he had no choice but to yield; but he stood for a moment irresolute, staring at her with lowering brows, 8 hearty curse on living father and dying child slowly formulating in his breast.
 As he turned to leave the room to give the necessary orders 8 carriage drove rapidly to the door and stopped, and there was a vigorous pull at the bell Thorne had provided against all possible delay. Then the question arose of whC should accompany her, and they found that there was not single available wo man in the house. It was impossible tC let her go alone, and Cumberland, witt the curses rising from his heart to hil lips, was forced, in very manhood, to gC with her himself.
 In Brooklyn Mrs. Creswen met then herself at the door, and appeared sur prised-as well she might-to see MT Cumberland. She motioned Ethel to ward the staircase, and then with { formal inclination of the head usheret her more unwelcome guest into small parlor, where there was 8. fire and 1 lamp burning. Here she left him alone Her house was in the suburbs, and ther, was nowhere else for him to go at tha hour of the night and in that terribl, storm.
 The room was warm and cheerful.