Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-06-25

trlCk THAT Wd5 JuSt
emily sauciness) of teginn.l
whenever her eyes met hfs3
however, had not Of late
very frequent, for during her last
days at home. when he had sought..hsr
out SO that he might be thrilled .and
inspired by the radiant sweetness that
seemed to sh ne from her presence,
from all she did or said, from her every
movement. from even the fun that she
had been In the habit OF making OF him
and his dog-like love for her. she had
really declined to treat him seriously,
and she had once (he remembered the
words vividly enough nowD said to him
In her laughing way, Jacob, there's
no use you hanging about as though
I'd take any notice Of you! You're not
the kind OF man I'm after for . hus-
band! You're not my style Of man In
the least. Jacob; no, no, ILL only be sat.
isfied wi sweetheart that's man all
up and down"-the inference being, OF
course, that Jacob was not that kind Of
a man, as. indeed, he was not exactly.
But what change now! She was like
some goodly flower tina: In the morning
had been fair to look upon, and before
the night fell had been bruised and
broken and laid low by pitiless storm,
or as one who had cem pressed LIES
sorrow into few short hours.
Jacob" she said, still kneel!ng by
the cradle, still staring in that fixed In
sane way at the dark-yellow window
blind. "Jaceb, 1 must tell you what
I've done. Oh. Jacob, it was dead
when l looked ct 1t; didn't kill it,
didn't take its life, Jacob. Oh, / was
out o. my mind did 1t when Iwas
out o. my mind; I'd never have done 1t
ese!"
She was silent again. II the table
had not been solid and strong, SO that
Jacob could lean against 1t, he would
haue sunk on his knees on the floor.
"Where's mother, Jacob?"
He did not reply; he could not; he
remembered that he had told her.
81 can see the child where l put 1t In
the hole in the wall. Oh, Jacob, I've
heard it crying ever since l left it there,
and somebody's been following me
through the fields. couldn't see him;
but heard him calling to me to go back
to the child. But l couldn't go back;
something made me run faster and
faster from the place. did it because
lost my place; they wouldn't let me
keep the child there. | didn't know
what to do with 1t, Jacob, for mother
sent me word that l was never to
darken her door again, an L didn't
know where TO turn for shelter, for I'd
no friends In Corborough as / could
90 to till found another place. jacob!
know I'm bad; l feel as Gods wrath
has fallen on me. But they drove me
out o. my mind at the station; many O.
them as was there, comm In by the
same train, knew me and knew what
had happened. Oh, Jacob, l saw
EN- pointin' at me an whisperin', as
though / was lower than the lowest; an
Mrs. Crale, when | was tryin' to get
away, cried, wi laugh over my shout
der, We'll, Maggy, an how's the baby"
| had the child in my arms, an she
tried to see it's face, but | wouldn't
let her. Oh, everybody In the station
must have heard that she was mockin'
me. Everything was swlmmln
afore my eyes; and II Susan Long hadn't
given me mouthful o. water I'd never
ha' been able to get out o. the waiting
room, where I ran TO hide myself. Then
| started to walk home; for l thought,
If mother does turn me- away from her
door, then me an the child I'll die by
the roadside. But l hadn't the heart TO
go through the village, so went up by
Pitbank and Longscar and round by the
WhInny Banks. But lost my way; l
didn't know where was; it was gettin'
dark, an when l looked at the child,
when | was crossin' the wood bridge at
the Whinny Banks IL was cold, cold as
ice; it's eyes shut like as II
it was sleepih', Jacob. | pressed
it to my breast and spoke to it, but
1t never opened its eyes, never
moved; l thought 1t must be dead.
Then. as / sat WI 1t in my arms on q
bank beside the hedge, something said
to me, Couldn't L go home wi'out the
child? II it was dead couldn't put 1t
somewhere where 1t could never be
found, SEEM as 1t was dead, and say to
mother as I'd put it out to nurse; then
mother might reent an take me In II
was alone, an I'd begin q new life and
repent all my life what I'd done. an
pray for the child, for IT'S never been
baptized, jacob So, as l walked along
WI it, everything being so lonely, l
came to wall; the wall /
Dow was found when he died
sudden from his heart; an I went be-
hind the wall, an found hole an laid
the child in there, an ran away; an
ever since I've heard it crying, though
1t was quiet when put it In the hole.
1t was dead, jacob; I'm sure 1t was
dead. and not sleepin' only, jacob! She
had sobbed out this confession convul-
sively. She was silent for while; then
she burst out again: "Oh, Jacob,
hope as God III not put my sins on the
child! / hope He'll remember as I'm to
blame for its not being taken to bap-
tism, an that the angels will take IL TO
heaven for the sake o. the Savior as said
that about little children"
She got up suddenly from her knees;
a strange sef-possessisn had come TO
her all at once. jacobs manner terri
fed her. She thought he had been
stricken with paralysis. There was q
terrible contortion, too. in his face. He
was like man in his death agony. The
attack did not, however, last many Sec
onds, and then Jacob, steadying him.
self against the table, stood up before
Maggie as straight and man-like as 1t
was possible for him TO stand, his In
tention evidently being TO give her the
impression that there was nothing the
matter with him; he even smiled upon
her. Not till many years had passed
was that smile obliterated from Nag