The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-05-29
CHAPTER XVIII

/ ApaNLuh L6L.
CHAPTER XVIII.
So now George was away in distant
/ Liege, leaving his mother behind him with
the news which would make barren waste
Of the fair garden of his sweetheart's life.
Elhce was waiting in a hardly endurable
anxiety and fear, and Mrs. Red wood with a
too simple and transparent cunning, was
evadiDg the agonized entreaties the girls
letters brought her. Hetheridge was still
mending slowly and was by this time able
! to totJer across room with the aid of a
pair Of walking sticks. He had grown a
great colorless beard and mustache during
his confinement. His eyes, which were
easily panied by broad light. were protected
by a pair OF goggles. With his paralytic
walk, his quaverlng hands, his bent back
the sticks that supported him, and the heavy
| growth OF hair about his face, the false
! Andre Dom, the murderer of George Red
wood seemed to have sprang to life again
after being banished from the world for
seventeen years.
But there was no one there to recognize
him and he abode his time.
Ellice, in her extremity, had threatened
that il Mrs. Redwood did not answer her
! inquiries within week she would leave her
| father to his nurse and make a journey to
| Wellsted to demand an explanation face to
| face.
"If am so un worthy, she wrote, with a
natural and excusable pride, las Georges
silence would seem to mean l am, In his
| opinion. am willing to give him back his
freedom. If he has grown to love some one
else he need never be afraid that l shall
aftiict him by making any claim upon him.
But there is a dreadful mystery somewhere,
and must and will have 1t cleared in one
way or another. II George has been mis-
taken i'll his feelings l must school myself to
correct my own, and l feel l have the
strength Of mind to do it,"
On the day on which the widow received
this letter, and whilst her eyelids were still
red with crying over it, she encountered
Mons Dom in the main street Of the town
and invited him to a conference. Her
feminine instinct would have taught her a
more roundabout approach, but as she be-
gan to speak to him her voice failed her,
aud she narrowly escaped betrayal into a
burst Of crying.
at is about George, Mons. DOM she
admission that you could tell us what is di-
viding him from US. o, Mons Dom, if you
remember your own mother, don't disguise
it from men
In her agitation she raised her veil and
| her lmploring eyes we're very hard for a
tender-hearted man like Mons. Dom to en-
counter
MADAME" he turned, 81 beg you to COM
pose yourself. The street-forgive me-Is
no place for the discussion of this NATTER
Come to my house, Mons. DOM she be-
sought him.
Instantly, dear lady" Dom responded,
INSTANTLY"
She walked trembling beside him and
said nothing more until they were safe in
her own parlor. Then with clasped hands
she leaned tow ard him, a moving figure for
any man susceptible to pity. Years of suf-
fering had purified and spirituallzed face
which had always been good and tender,
and had left it beautifully eloquent of pain
and patience. The traces OF grief more
recent made it purely pathetic, and the good
little Dom yearned pitifully over her and
knew that he was powerless to give help or
comfort.
you have known my boy for years, " she
began. 81 have always thought you loved
him. Everybody says you have good
heart, Mons Dom. There is some dreadful
secret killing him, forcing him away from
me, aud parting him from Ellice, from Miss
Hetheridge. You knew that they were
going 10 be married You know what his
secret is, Nous. Dom. Tell me, for PHYS
sake! How can we fight against it If we
don't know what it is!n
Madame" Dom answered, easily moved,
Il regret that you put yourself TO so much
pain. For myself do not speak for 1 have
hard old shell and do not matter much to
anybody, but you ask what cannot do. l
am helpless. dear lady"
You can help me, Mons. Dom ,"she urged.
II have it on Georges own admission that
you know his secret"
IF l withdraw from this interview, dear
madam, believe me it is that / may spare
you pain. l can tell you nothing"
But you KNOW" she cried. fawning on
him. "You know"
ba
81 know, and your son knows. 1t is bad
enough as it is. You see what the knowl-
edge has done for him. His life is wrecked
and broker. You do not guess what you
ask. You have suffered much in your time
terribly know. But if | dared to tell
you what you wished to know, if l were
| brute and beast enough to tell you. You
would find the knowledge as hard to besr as
anything you have endured. Thank God,
madame, that you are spared that knowl-
edgen
But Georgel What has he done that be
| should suffer so7"
| George has done what any man in his
! place would have been compelled to do. He
suffers, but he is not to blame."
But why should marriage be impossible
| between him and Ellice. What has she
| doneP
Nothing, madame. She is as good as an
angel but there is no help for it."
! Mons. Dom, in fine, though he mopped
his eyes aud blew his nose in undisguised
emotion, was quite obdurate, and would not
! yield jot to her entreaties. The sense of
| mystery, added to the pain OF separation,
and to see all hope and happiness slipping
away without being able to guess why or
wherefore was bitter in the extreme. She
wrote that day to George final appeal and
enclosed Ellices letter. Four day 5 later his
| answer reached her:
my DEAREST MOTHER-There is no use
in beating about the bush. What you ask
10 impossible. It is no fault of Ellice's and
1t Is no fault Of mine, but we are parted for
ever. II l could tell you why, you would
see bow true it is. Since dare not tell you
anything, you must believe me without evil
oenoe. Ellice suggests in her letter to you
that may have unworthy thoughts about
her, or that somebody else may have come
In between her and me, and supplanted her
In my affection. l never loved her so much
as do now. l shall never think of another
glrl, and / know that my love will last my
lifetime. II l could ever be quite sure that
| she had forgotten me and was happy, think
| 1t would help to make me more contented
! And now must beg Of YOU never again to
| return TO this subject. l have written my
| last wore about II, and nobody will ever
knoW wnat IL cost me TO say good.by."
This looked uncompromising enough, but
Its very hnality aroused combat OF sense
| In the mothers mind. 1t brought TO her,
in fact. something very like the courage Of