The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1893-07-13


many years for what had been, after all, but
an accident-though terrible one, that he
did not deny-that as the good Bishop re-
seated himself deep sigh of relief had
gone up from each one OF his many Listeners,
aud when the jury finally dismissed the case
with the verdict manslsughter committed
in self-defense" there had been great and
general rejoicing
"Where is he? Why have you come
without him?" was Margsret's only COM
ment on the narration, and Harry-who
had thought only of bringing us the news as
quickly as possible-rushed downstairs, and
springing into cab directed the man to
make all possible speed to the prison.
The ensuing hour was certainly the long
est one / ever spent. Mother stood at one
widow and / at the other, while Margaret
walked ,estlessly about the room, stopping
at each approaching football, only to con-
tinue her way with a strained, white look
upon her face a moment later.
1t was l who finally exclaimed: "Ah, here
he is at last!" but my tongue seemed to
cleave to the roof of my mouth as / spoke,
for no one followed my brother out of the
carriage, and he entered the hotel alone.
There was no necessity for Margaret 10
speak as he came into the room her eyes
contained all the inquiry needed; and as he
silently handed her a small, sealed envelope,
/ wondered it were possible for anyone to
look so pale.
She had been so brave-so brave-all
through these days; but as she caught sight
of the few lines the letter contained her
wonderful self-control gave way, and falling,
rather than seating herself on the sofa near
by, she buried her face in the cushions and
broke into passionate food of tears.
For he had gone-gone wholly out of her
life so ran the note, which, as it had
dropped upon the floor, / caught up and
glanced hastily overland though he knew
she would, in her sweet, self-sacrificing way,
ask to come to him, it could never be, now
that his disgrace was known. And if he
had lacked courage to tell her of this BEFORE
it had been because of the knowledge that
she would never again be able to look at
him without thinking of the secret that lay
so heavily upon his soul. Nor must she
try to find him, as from that very hour even
his name itself was lost. And then fol-
lowed some few, brief words of farewell,
which, even now, only to think upon, make
my eyelids tingle from the rush OF fast-gath-
eriDg tears.
A year from that time found us on our
way to the East, for Margaret's health had
broken so rapidly, as she found one attempt
after another to discover Philippe's where
abouts end only in failure-hs lawyer him.
self assuring us he could give us no possible
clew-that the physician had declared a
milder climate and the distraction of travel
absolutely necessary. She had dreaded
leaving Paris, where she considered the
chances of success more certain, and had
only consented to do SO when assured by
Harry and Clement Harrington that during
her absence no stone should be left unturned
that could aid her in her search.
One of the two last named-and it was
not my brother-had made a very wry face
at the idea of our leaving just as mother had
finally consented to our-but, there again
am wandering off to my own affairs, which,
as / said before, have nothing whatever to
do with my story.
1t was Margaret herself who suggested
our going to the Holy Land, and though the
mater shook her head sadly rs she noted the
sudden flush and restless sparkling of the
eyes with which the request was accom-
panied, we went all the same.
We had been there but short time before,
to mothers amazement-I had nearly said
horror-my cousin evinced feverish desire
to visit the Gesolate habitatiOn where dwell
the lepers. Did some instinct tell her that
the brave man of whom we heard such fre-
quent mention as of one having come out
TO devote his life TO relieving the sufferings
of these poor creatures-might be, must be
Philippe? All, that 1 cannot tell! But
there it was she found him; or, rather, there
it was that, as we had stopped, along with
the Sister of Mercy who accompanied us
for Margaret, though living in our Protest
ant home, had been brought up in her moth
er's faith-to offer some assistance to one of
those poor sufferers, he found her, and his
sharp, startled cry of Marguerite!" first
told her Of his presence.
Very grave and pale he looked, and SO
changed that had it not been for his voice l
should never have recognized him.
Even then he essayed to evade US, but she
had come too far to admit of that; and
there, in that poor cave, she wound her two
sbapeiy arms about his neck, and entreated
so earnestly and tenderly to be allowed to
share his work, that he-ah! well, what
could he do but yield?
SEQUEL.
All travellers who, during the past 20
years, have visited the Holy Land, are IA
uiIiar with the good work that has been