The record-union., 1893-02-23

SLY was tIdNeilHs, sue Wdlkeu uulll
nearly morning, and fell fainting at
Burke's door. She had always been
under the iron rule of her father, who
hated her because she had cost him her
mothers life. He might have learned TO
hate the mother had she lived, but dying
early she became a saint. The child gave
promise from the first of unusual beauty,
a promise that every coming year full
illled, so he regarded her as a chattel
which he absolutely owned, and should
sell sell when the bidding waxed high.
w hen she was sixteen he found he had
not oyerrated the bidding, judging from
a.moneyed standpoint; but his daugh-
ter's flight put an end to the sale. He
was an ac.or by profession, of only
medium merit; his wife had been good
one, and his daughter he intended should
be one also, did the matrimonial market
prove unsuccessful.
Since the day it failed she had looked
upon the same valley, the same mount
aims; she was at times for a short while
out of Burke's sight, but rarely out of his
hearing. 1t was SO altogether different
from anything she had known before
that the monotony became unbearable.
The restlessness may have been inherent
IN her nature, but it was especially
tostered by her education and habits Of
life. From whatever cause, she was
almost mad with discomfort and desire
for change, and the manner in which
Burke treated this disquietude was the
most ineXplicable of all.
he never argued with it; he rarely
sought to explain it away. lie accepted
1t as something TO be looked for and en-
dured; he never proposed change as a
cure, or aSSented 10 her desire ior it, but
seemed terrified if she suggested taking
Babe for ever so short journey. At the
very moment he was saying: "It amt the
l. - IL. Il
on me. She can't help it. It's a judg
ment on me.'
Meanwhile, the child, tired of trying
without success to shake the blooms
from the prune trees as his father had
done, came and pulled at his mothers
gown, commanding her aid with much
mperiousncss.
tated at the interruptation OF her reVerje,
and unconsciously relapsing into slang,
as she did upon rare occasions, she added
pettishly: do 90 and lose yourselfv
lie trotted away and she turned her
glance to the mountains; they always OF
late beckoned her; they seemed TO be
calling, Come awayp
But the child's absence was of short
duration; he came flying back, and
climbed upon her knee.
babe tan't 'ose hese'f," he declared
seriously. 81 go bywind de tees, but
Babe dab all 'e time!''
Il wish l had your philosophy, little
son." she said, giving him the kiss he
came for. Il suppose it is only myself
alter all that l am trying to escape.
Come, let us lay the table for SUPERB
She was very gay that evening, and in
consequence Babe and Burke were wildly
happy. But next morning when Burke
rose and peeped within her room she had
gone; Babe was sleeping there alone.
Upon her pillow was this written mes
sage:
Burke, Pm going. Forgive mel am
afraid if l remain l shall go mad. leave
Babe that you may be sure of my return.
l shall come back when [ am cured, and
while absent never forget that am
Burke's Wife"
He was dazed and went about mutter-
ing: "She couldn't help it, she couldn't
stay yer; Pm to blame; it's judgmunt
on me-"
When Babe woke he was much aston
ished. He knew by his fathers behavior
that something was wrong, and with in
dered about the house, searching silently
at first. but at last set up wall.
babe wants Wiie!' sobbed he.
'S'pose you don' snapped Burke, and
amazement dried Babes tears. Good
Lord! don't l want her too? Don't /
want her hundred times as bad as YOU
do? A hundred times as bad as you know
how to want her?''
Babe had nothing to say. His vocabu-
larry was limited; the situation was be-
yond him. And then Burke. repeutinp
of having spoken harshly to anv living
being so small, took the child in his
arms, and sobbed over him, and told him
that Wife had gone away, but she would
come back when she was well, if they
were good.
And Babe promised to be good.
From that moment they were insep
cradle. Burke worked among the trees,
the shrubs, the vegetables the flowers.
from dawn to sunset, Babe gravely look
ing on, and furtively watching the mount
aims as he had seen his mother watch.
feeling they had something to do with her
flight, and would be connected with her
return. All the imperiousness of his
babyhood had vanished; he was humble
and patient, affecting a sort of cheerful
ness he did not fully feel, for his fathers
sake. But as months passed away.
though he did not forget, he watched less
confidently the mountains, sometimes
fearing that his father and he would have
to be everything to each other after all.
Burke aged visiOly; but as his step grew
slower, his face sadder, his hair Whittier,
more and more affectionate, protecting
and comforting grew Babe.
When at last the neighbors discovered
the prolonged absence of Burke's wife.
they began, as they had opportunity, to
question Babe, and he answered. 'She's
sick, and she's gone away. When she's
well she'll come back yer," for Babe
lisped in childish numbers no more. his
speech taking color from his fathers.
The neighborS Speculated concerning If.
but Burke's manner did>not invite oiIes-
tioning, and Babes version was accented
with comments.
1t was nearly year from the time of
her going when Burke took step most
mysterious to Babe. He wrote a letter
with evident fear and trembling; his ex-
element grew more obvious as the days
passed, after it was gone. He brought
the answer home without reading it; he
eyed it as if it were his death warrant.
but at last, with ghastly face and trem-
bling fingers, he broke the seal and read
it twice. Babe saw a relieved look over
spread his features, then an expression
OF surprise, and he passed one hand over
the back of his neck. The letter fell from
the left hand to the floor, and after SEEM
ing to totter for moment Burke fell too.
without word or cry.
Desolate Babe did not in the least un-
derstand the situation; he was frightened.
He was afraid of the unnatural LOOKING
figure upon the floor; but he knew some
thing must be done. He brought pil-
low and tried to put it under his fathers
head; he brought water and begged him
to drink, and falling in both endeavors he
sat down and wept. But finding things
did not mend themselves he considered
awhile, and taking his hat he went to the
doorway and looked out. He did not
know what TO do; he must bring some
one who did know. AS he gave last
look toward his fathers PROSTATE form
he saw the letter, turned back TO secrete
it before he went away, and then set out
for the only help within his knowledge,
a neighbor who lived two miles distant,
across the valley.
4 ]. !. d l.