The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-11-23
CHAPTER XIX.

THE REPTILE TURNS To si4N5'
When Flora Cleveland returned to New
York and her home she there experienced
the painful Impressions Of the past, and
the somber preoccupation Of the future;
but she brought there with her, alth ough
in fragile form, most powerful con-
solation-her frst-born child.
Assailed by griet, and even menaced oy
new emotions, she was obliged to re-
nounced the nursing OF her Ii tie one;
but nevertheless she never left him. for
she was jealous even OF his nurse. She
at least wished to be loved by him.
She loved him with IN infinite passion.
She loved him because he was her own
son and of her blood.
He was the price OF her misfortune-of
her pain.
She loved him because he was her only
hope of human happiness hereafter.
She loved him because he was as beau
tiful as the day. And it was true ne was
go: for he resembled his father-and she
loved him also on that account.
She tried to concentrate her heart and
all her thoughts ON this dear creature, an d
at first she thought she had succeeded.
She was surprised at herself. sther own
tranouillity, when she saw Cora Elliston;
for her lively imagination had exhausted,
in advance, all the sadness which her new
existence could contain.
But when sheshad lost the kind Of tor
Dor into which excessive suffering had
plunged her-when her maternal sensa-
tions were little quieted by custom
her woman's heart recovered itself In the
mothers
She could not prevent herself from re-
newing her passionate interest IN her
graceful though terrible husband.
Mrs. Leland did not return to the city
with her daughter, but remaindd in Rox-
bury. with her husband.
Flora wrote her quite often, however,
and told her everything that was taking
place. For this wise young woman, ma
tured by misfortune, observed every
thing, saw everything, and exaggerated
nothing.
She touched, in her letters, on the
most delicate points in the household,
and even on her husbands secret
thoughts, with accurate justice.
Eugene, as yet, was not at all converted,
nor near being so; but it would be belly
ing human nature to attribute to his
heart, or at Of any other human being,
q supernatural impassibility.
Il the dark and implacable theories
which Eugene Cleveland had lately made
tho law of his existence could triumph
absolutely, this would be true.
The 'tri ls he had passed through did
not reform him. they only staggered him.
He did not pursue his path with the
same frmness; he strayed fro bis pro-
He pitied one of his victims, and, as
one wrong always entails another, after
pitying his wife, he came near loving his
These two weaknesses had glided into
his petrifed soul, as into marble fouuit,
and there took root-two imperceptlble
roots, however.
The child scarcely occupied him more
than few moments every dly.
He thought OF him, however, and
would retrrn home little earlier than
usual each day than WAS his habit, se-
creetly attracted by the smi'e of that
fresh face. .
The moth was r. aim something more.
Her sufferings, her youthful heroism, had
touched him. She bacame in his eyes
somebody.
He discovered many merits in her. He
perceived she was remarkably we'll in
formed for woman. She understood
half word, knew great deal, and
guessed at the remainder.
She had, in fine, that blending grace
and solidity which gives to the conversa-
tion Of woman Of cultured mind an in
comparable charm.
She was lovable creature, and it can
be understood that she might have many
attractions, even for her husband.
Yet, though he had not for one instant
the idea Of sacrificing to her the passion
that ruled his life, it is certain, however,
that his wife pleased him as a charming
friend, which she truly was.
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