The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-01-24

golden color like th7 finest spun SILK. The
checks glOwed and the eyes sparkled with
health. Ths wet lips glittered, and beyond
them shOne two or three tiniest beginnings
Of teeth. The babY's eyes we're large and
brCwn-there was a look OF Ellice in them
the man thought, with the first touch of
Tenderness which had sssailed him for this
many day.
Il shall have 70 carry the brat on, / sup>
poss" he muttered 20 himself; "it's an in
fernal nuisance, but l suppose 1t can't be
helped
His face belied his words, though 10 did
not come easy TO him 70 look kindly. He
was ashamed Of himself for feeling kindly,
as men who have been very long nccus-
toned TO putting all gentleness out Of their
thoughts are apt TO be. He felt bound to
rebuke himself for a sentiment 50 unaccus-
toned.
go the kid he said, therefore, what
am to do with a squslling brat not twelve
months oldfn
The baby accepted the auathema with
new gurgle of delight, and held closer on
10 the mans index finger. Hetheridge
kuelt in a state OF total embarrassment.
The unexpected batteries Of a duchess
could scarcely have disturbed him more.
But circumstances forced his band, and be
felt bound to make some answering ad-
vances.
He chucked the soft chin with the fore
finger Of the hand he had at liberty, and
made feeble attempt to initiate some
meaningless sound OF endearmeut such as he
had heard nurses address to an infant
charge The child laughed once more, but
at that instant the thought of the dead man
lying so close behind him came upon him
with as swift a terror as if sudden hand
had been raised against his life. He rose
abruptly to his feet, and ran out into the
open air. and once more the sunlit solitude
was horrible to him.
The child, startled by his sudden move
ment, walled again. but FIVE minutes went
by before he could find courage to re-enter
the hut.
The day wore on a little, and the heat be-
came tTihe less intense. Hetheridge re-
harDessed the horse, and before setting out
researched the hut TO find provision for the
child. In corner Of the room on the floor
and under the shadowo of a homemade table
he found a basin OF goats milk, from which
he replenished the child's bottle. He found
also hammer and few tacks, and by the
aid OF these. with piece of drapery torn
from the child's cot, he rugged up sort OF
awning between the splash board of the
buggy and the seat, and beneath its shelter
he besto we'd the infant He had already
driven hundred yards from the lonely
shanty, when an impulse which he did not
trouble TO define impelled him to retrace his
way and close the shutter he had thrown
aside and the door, thus leaving the dead
man to darkness and silence which seemed
in some vague way proper and becoming to
him.
When little after shutdown, with only
light enough to feel his way, he reached his
next halting place, he told the story of his
discovery, and two OF the station hands
were instructed to ride over with mattock
and spade, with orders for the decent inter-
ment of the body. Hetheridge learned no
more Of the dead man than this: His name
was Martin. He and his wife had dared the
wilderness together. A child had been born
to them in the great solitude they had
chosen as their abiding place. The mother
had died nine months later, and thu man
from that hours had toiled on alone until
death at the hand of some skulking black
fellow had laid him low.
The squatter, whose guest Hetheridge was
that night, had a wife. buxom
amiable soul, whose heart went out to the
orphaned child as soon as she had heard its
story.
There's room in the house for more than
one" she said, indicating a sturdy little sun
Drowned fellow Of her own, land in year
or two they'd be companions"
she's mine," said Hetheridge, almost
fiercely, "rve neither kith nor kin, nor
child. Pm not liKely TO marry, and Pm
worth a quarter of million, maybe more
I'll make myself answerable for the child.n
He went on next morning, and in a day or
two found himself within touch of civilza-
ton. In week he reached home with
young person of unexceptionable antece-
dents engaged as caretaker for the orphan
waif. Hetheridge's respectable housekeeper,
a woman who confessed to middle age, and
who might honestly have confessed to some-
thing more, buo6ed at the intrusion of this
unknown feminine quantity, and resented
the presence of the baby.
Hetheridge, who by this time had re-
turned 20 his usual stern gloom of manner,
pointed TO the door,
THAT'S the way out" he said, land you
can take 1t, Mrs. Brown, or do my bidding.
Either course is open to you, and whichever
you may take it'll be matter of the most
perfect Indifference TO me-"
81 was bred,n began the lady, ain the
Preesbeeteeriau church,
II don't care, returned Hetheridge, zone
hang where you were bred. You can do
my bidding or you can leave my house. You
can take your money out Of that and bring
me the change"
He slammed little handful of hastily
counted bank notes upon the table, and
hourished a hand of mastership above them.
Pm no saying"
You're not wanted to say anything
responded her master, you can stay or go
just as you please, only make up your mind
about it without loss of time.n
"Ye'll forgive me. perhaps" demanded the
cautious dame, "for asking whose the child
isln
"The childs mine, her employer snapped
at her with show of temper unusual to
him.
"Aweel," said the housekeeper, 'in that
CASE She slid the notes across the table
towards her employer.
And what might be the pretty little
creatures namer
Hetheridge gIared at her for a moment
without respo Sc.
Tho name9" said the houskeeper. well
be wanting a name to call her by"
"Her Names" said Hetheridge. passing
a hand across his forehead, as if to smooth
away some troubled fancy. "Her name?
Didn't tell you that? Her name is Ellice!n
ITO DISCONTINUED
LEMON ELIXIR.