The morning news., 1892-03-27
: ow FIRST PUBLIsHED.l
CHAPTER xvL-CoxrrNUED.

In the course Of their rambles with the child
she and Sam had marked a six-roomed cot
tage. standing in the midst of an inviting
and wsll-orderei little plot of ground, and
decided between them that it would be a
rather agreeable thing TO have the perils OF
housekeeping and live there. Inquiries
proved that the cottage might be had on a
seven years lease at a moderate rental. The
place was taken and furnished and the pair
settled down with e very small servant girl
as the sole complement OF the household.
Sam found congenial employment in the
garden, where he pruned and raked and
hoed and planted and weeded with con-
slant ardor, whilst Matilda and the small
maid between them kept the house pain
fully neat and polished.
They had been housekeeping for half
year or thereabouts when they decided on a
question of great moment to this history.
81 have kept my lips closed, SAM" said
Tilda, "up till now; but the little thing will
be growing up to an understanding age, and
want to know whether it would be right to
tell her who she really is or to keep dark
about It'll"
Sam revolved the matter in his mind in
silence, slowly putting at his pipe mean
while.
"Well, my dear" he asked at last, "what
mo. SAM urged Matilda, 81 want to
know what you think"
"Well, you see, Matilda" Sam responded,
s'it's like this: l never quite know what l
do think until l know what you think.
Which," he added idly, ''isrhyme as we'll as
reason"
"Wen, then, SAM" said Matilda, az
think it best to say nothing at all. She's
Bob Martins little girl in point of fact. as
I've heard you say thousand times. Now
her father had mo- got anything to leave
her, had heF
swered.
Nor" pursued Matilda, "his fathers
kith and king
His old folks" :" Sam responded. "is dead
this ten years. His sister married a ships
mate and has gone the Lord knows where
There's nobody to claim the kid and nobody
to take care of her except me. I'm her
natural guardian"
"She's likely 60 be q great deal better of
without you," said Mrs Potter, decisively,
sand it's too late to meddle with her now
I'm speaking for the child's good, Sam. It's
getting to be good deal over three years
since first had TO do with her, and itstands
name of her own, or at least she's got a
name she's known by. Mr.. Hetheridge left
her all his money once. and he's likely to do
as much again. for don't suppose he'll ever
marry She's being taken thorough good
care Of, and l think we'd better make up
our minds once for all to keep a quiet
tongue about it. She'll grow up to be a
lady where she is being took excellent good
care Of, else urge il upon you, l never
would, Sam, and that you may put your
Bible word tor
Every well, Matilda" Sam returned.
"That being your opinion It's smine likewise.
j shan't say anything"
The phenomena of mental disease are
often obscure and strange. The lost figure
after which Potter's memory strayed in
fruitless endeavor had been in his thoughts
q hundred times, and he had never recog-
nized il. In q rambling and half intelligi-
bic way he had told his tale to Redwood,
and at that time he had known quite clearly
who It was that had dealt him that almost
fatal blow in Hetheridge's house in Mel
bourne. Now, the memory Of that terrible
episode seemed altogether erased from bis
mind. The pictures Of it had faded into
nothingness. Even the mention of Hether-
idges name, brought no hint to his intelli
gence. In his talks about the child with
his wife, he often heard the name aud often
used it. His mind seemed clear in respect to
all his dealings with Hetheridge, except
one. To revive the memory of that night
he needed a remembrance of another sort,
and in due time it came.
Mrs Redwood and her boy had long since
settled in Wellsted under the august shelter
of Mrs. Weybridge's wing The widow had
taken, under her patroness advice, hand
some little house, not far from Wey bridge
Hall.
Her story had followed her, of course, but
il awoke and could awake no sentiment but
one of pity, and she was never molested by
hint of it. She was still young and pretty
and was obviously well to do, whilst the
countenance of Mrs. Weybridge gave her a
better social position than eyer she could
have aspired to in the neighborhood of Up
nor. and there were not a few gentlemen of
early middle age in that part of the coun-
try who were inclined to think that she
might make an agreeable life companion.
She was altogether unconscious of these
fancies, and would have looked on the mere
suggestion of a second marriage as some
thing very like a blasphemy. Hetheridge
visited her now and then at considerable in
tervals, but never imperiled his cause by a
hint OF the hope that prompted him. He
had waited years for revenge, and he could
wait as long, and az least as patiently for
love. He found life a weary business aud
subdued himself to it with fatigued resig-
nation. He began to see-he bad
long ago begun to see that from the most
purely selfish point of view the murder of
George Redwood was a blunder. 1t had
taken all the salt aud spice out of the dish
Of life and had left the mess havorless. His
desire for Ellice Redwood, though it was
still bis strongest sentiment, was a poor
thing in comparison with what it had been
while his detestation of her living husband
lent it life and force. He suffered, too,
from the compaRionship Of horrors whose
presence it was difficult to endure. That
inspiration Of nervous hate which had 80
long supported him was only possible to a
man on whom the nerves could take great
and terrible revenge. Conscience, or what
Is popularity known as conscience, left him
upassailed, but his outraged nerves called
into being whole battalions of invisible enc
mics to his peace He had gone back to
business, and was up to the eyes in affairs of
great importance. Over and over again he
courted times when it seemed that a week
might make or break him; and these expe-
riences, with the mental strain they brought.
afforded him the only Trustworthy bulwarI
be bad against the phantom host. The very
good fortune which followed all his business
enterprises terrified whilst il enriched him.
No man could long be as lucky as himself
with impunity. S0me stroke Of misfortune
would surely fall upon him and atone for
everything.
The constant gambling Of bis business
life, the wine he drank 90 drown his fears
the ceaseless torment Of bis DeTvou,
tTemors, combined 10 wear him down unti
ha eaaraad alrf