The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-11-26

/ SledIn OF eyes WlQGQeQ DV dSUOnlS nmenJ.
1T does not matter" cried Miss
Bethune. Il know this. that the mar
riage was in secret, and the boy was born
| IN secret, and while she was i'll and weak
! there came the news of some one coming
/ that could leave her penniless. and for
the sake of the money, the wretched
money, this man took up the child in his
arms ont OF her very bed and carried it
/ away
The sick woman clutched the arm of
/ the other, who sat by her side, tragic nd
| passionate, the words coming from her
! lips like sobs. "Oh, my poor lady" she
said, If that is your story But it was
not that My husband, Mr.. Bristowe,
| knew. He knew all about Gordon from
the beginning. 1t was no secret to him.
! he did not take the child away till the
mother had gone, till he had tried every
way to find her, even to bring her back.
| he was merciful man. I knew him. too.
! y, poor woman, poor woman, my heart
! breaks for that other you knew. She is
! ike me, she is worse than me, but the one
| you know was not Harry's mother-O, no,
| no-Harry's mother! If she is living it
! is-it is-in misery, and worse than mis-
cry"
He said" uttered hoarse voice,
| breathless, out of the dimness which no
! body could have recognized for Miss Be
! thune's, that you said there was no such
! woman"
Il did-to comfort him, to make him
| believe that it was not true"
by lie! And such a liza shameful
! lie, when you knew so different! And how
! should any one believe now word you
! say3"
''Oh, don't let her say such things to
| me, Miller, Miller!n cried the patient,
with the cry of sick child.
Madam, " said the maid, "she's very
! bad, as you see, and you're making her
| everp minute worse. You can see it your
| self. It's my duty to ask you TO go away
Miss Bethune rose from the side of the
| bed like ghost, tall and stern, and tower
! ing over the agitated, weeping woman,
| who lay back on the white pillows, hold
! ing out supplicating hands and painting for
! breath. She stood for moment looking
as if she would have taken her by the
| throat. Then she gave herself a little
shake. and turned away
Once more the invalid clutched at her
dress and drew her back. oh" she
cried, have mercy upon me. Don't 90
away-don't go away. l will bear any
thing. Say what you like, but bring me
| Dora-Yring me DOra-before I die"
why should 1 bring YOU Dora! Me to
whom nobody brings What is it to me if
| you live or if you die?'
"Oh, bring me DOra-bring me Dora -
the poor woman walled, holding fast by
her visitors dress. She flung herself
| half out of the bed, drawing towards her
with all her little force the unwilling, re-
| sisting figure. "Oh, for the sake of all
| you wish for yourself, bring me Dora
| DOra-before l die"
What have you left ME to wish for?"
cried the other woman, and she drew her
skirts out of the patients grasp.
No more different being from that
which fapad N, hot bvr+
passages and staircases of the great ho-
tel could have been than she who now re-
| passed through them, looking neither to
| the right nor to the left-a woman like a
straight line of motion and energy. as
strong and stiff as iron, with expression
banished from her face, and elasticity
from her figure. She went back by the
same streets she had come by, making her
way straight through the crowd, which
| seemed to yield before the strength of
| passion and pain that was in her.
There was singing in her ears, and a
| buzzing in her head, and her heart was in
her breast as if it had been turned to
stone. Oh, she was not at her first
shock of disappointment and despair. She
! had experienced it BEFORE but never, she
| thought, in such a terrible sort as now
She had so wrapped herself in this dream,
which had been suggested to her by
| nothing but her own heart, what she
| thought her instinct, sudden fash of
| divination, the voice of nature. She had
| felt sure of it the first glimpse she had of
him. before he had even told her his
name. She had been sure that this time
| 1t was the voice of nature, that intui-
| ton of mother could not be deceived
So olikenesses seemed to meet in
! Harry GordOn's face, so many circum-
stances to combine in establishing the
| likelihood, at least, that this was he
! South America, the very ideal place for
an adventurer and the strange fact that
| he had mother living whom he did not
| know. a mother living, These words
were a thrill Of passion. of opposition. of
| unmOved and immovable conviction, rush
| ing through all her veins. A mother living,
| Who could that be but shel What would
! such man Care-a man who had aban-
! doned his wife at the moment of a
! WOman's greatest weakness. and taken
! her child from her when she was helpless
! to resist him-fOr the ruin of her reputa-
! ton, after having fixed upon her, among
! those who knew her not, the character of
! a protiigate9 He who had done the first
why should he hesitate to say the last?
! The one thing cost him trouble, the other
/ none. ltwas easier to believe that than
| to give up what she concluded with GER
tainty was her last hope.
GllchrlSt, who had seen her coming
! rushed down stairs TO open the door for
! her. But Gilchrist at this moment was
! an enemy, the last person in the world in
! whom her mistress would confide: Gill
! christ who had never believed in it, had
! refused to see the likeness, or to cncour-
! age any delusiOn. She was blind to the
woman's imploring looks, her breathless
| ION, mem" which was more than any
| question, and brushed past her with the
same iron rigidity of pose which had
| taken all sOftneSs from her natural angu-
| larity. She walked straight into her
! bedroom, where she took of her bonnet
| before the glass without awaiting Gil
| christ's administrations, nay. putting
! them aside with a quick, inpatient gest-
| ure. Then she went to her sitting room,
and drew her chair into her favorito 20
sltion near the window, and took up the
| paper and began to read it with every APP
| pearance of intense interest.
She had read it through every word. as
! is the practice of lonely ladies, before she
went out, and she was profoundly CON
! sciOus now of Gilchrist following her
| about, lowering behind her, and more
| anxious than words can say. Miss Beth
une was an hour or more occupied about
that newspaper, of which she did not see
a single word, and then she rose suddenly
! TO her feet
~ cannot do i'll cannot do it," she
| cried. The woman has no claim on me-
I Loaf tN L