Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1892-12-09

not have done so, possibly he should
have stopped Molly at the outset 4
little cruelty at first might have
prevented all this. However, it was too
late TO speculate now as to what he
should have done. What he should do
now was the question, and like q man
who never shrinl1s backward when duty
bids him go ahead, he spoke out firmly.
plainly, almost cruelty:
Mrs Allaire, you are deceiving your
self cannot, must not permit you
to believe what is not so. This resem-
blance between this sailor lad and Capt.
John is an accidental one such as often
happens in life. Your little Walt is
dead-yes, dead, He perished in the
narbor that dreadful day. | saw him
go down foreverl Godfrey is not your
SON."
You say Walter is dead?r cried Mrs
Allaire, starting forward with wild,
defiant look in her eyes. How do you
know it? Who can say it of his own
knowledge"
Il, madam
"You?'
''Yes, madam. Listenl Eight days
after that terrible accident the body of
an infant was washed up on the beach
at Point Iona. I-I-found it and
fastened to inform Mr.. Hollister. He
recognized little Walt, whom he caused
to be secretly buried in the cemetery of
San Diego. We were the only mourn
ers, the only ones to strew flowers upon
that little grave"
Walt, my little Walt, buried in the
cemetery" sobbed Molly, piteously,
"and none ever told me of it."
NO, madam" said Zach. solemnly,
''for the time being You were out of
your mind. When, four years after, you
recovered your reason, we dared not.
Mr.. Hollister dared not tell you of it;
he was afraid to tear open your
wounded heart, and DIR. Bromley agreed
with him that it might be dangerous,
that once you had knelt by that little
grave you would hover over it day by
day, and your mind would gradually
give way, until settled and incurable
melancholy had fastened itself upon
you. We did what we thought was the
best, dear lady. God help you. but be
strong, make up your mind that your
child is dead; that this sailor lad has
only the right which hundreds of other
children have to call you mother"
Molly sank with long, deep, pitiful
groan upon the sofa She hid her face
in her hands-she seemed to be praying.
Zach dashed tear off his rough check,
and stood waiting for her to speak.
With a suddenness that startled him,
Molly sprang up.
''Whati Can it be-" she moaned, that
you, that Andrew Hollister were hard,
were cruel enough to lay that little
loved body away in the cold, damp
earth without taking from it any bit of
ribbon, any shred of his dress, and OF
his tiny shoes-to hand to me some day
when / should be well and strong
again?"
"Yes, dear lady, 1 did even better
than that" exclaimed Zach, almost joy
fully, '1 cut from his little head a clus-
ter of his sillen curls."
"And you have them, Zach?" almost
shrieked Molly, springing forward.
Eyes, yes, madam, here, on my heart,
where I've carried them many a long
year"
Zach unbuttoned his jacket and drew
forth large envelope of strong paper,
soiled and blackened by it's long and
rough passage on this honest breast,
and, placing it in Molly's hand, turned
and hurried out of the stateroom.
When the door closed, Molly threw her
self on her knees in front of the sofa
with this priceless packet clasped
against her bosom. Her hand seized
the stout twine, when a mysterious
prompting caused her to hesitate. She
bowed her head until it rested full upon
the packet and there she remained, mo-
tionless, for nearly an hour in deep and
comforting prayer. When she arose.
the tears had dried. She walked stead
lily across the stateroom, opened one OF
the trunks and hid the package deep in
the bottom.
"No," she said in a calm and resolute
voice, 81 will not open it now. Let me
dream for awhile, anyway, that have
found my boy againl'