The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-04-30

Ny Dearest Mama-You will be glad to
learn that arrived here safely, and am now
writing to you from the little room which
must be my home for so many long months.
My journey passed without incident, except
that / lost my tickets and my trunk checks.
However IL happened l can't imagine for l
had carefully placed them in my pocket. But
l was brave. and not one bit confused. | paid
my fare TO the conductor and then gave the
porter $40 and he arranged to have M trunks
left at the station. Wasn't that cheap! I'm
sure papa will say I'm famous little bust
ness woman. Mr. Butler is most kind to me,
and 50 Is the bishop, who is the dearest man.
Mrs Butler Is nice, but such dOwdy. do so
love Isabel and Clara. We are like three sis
ters and it seems as if 1 had always known
them 1 cling to Clara, she is so sensible,
while Isabel despite her dashing style, leans
on me. The dressing bell has just rung. 50 no
more dearest mother With loads of love to
you ana papa, am your ahectlonate daugh-
ter. Aida.
p. S.-They have such robes and such jew
els! But then your Aida is not ashamed of
the comparison. Isabel admits that my mar
Quise is a trife larger than hers, and as for
the rubies, she thinks they are loves, as in
deed they are A.
The weeks rolled by, and each brought
more glowing account from Aida of the
sweetness and sweetness to use her
enthusiastic phrase-of her new friends
and Of the grateful monotony of her new
life. Then came the cyclone of change
which caused old Peter Bullion to growl,
and gave his good wife topic of sympa
thetlc conversation for the next half
dozen years. 1t was contained, like many
another blast, in letter of which the
following is copy:
My Dearest Parents-How thankful we
should be that your distracted Aida is sufti-
GENTLY alive TO thus address you. Now don't
be alarmed. am well. | am calm. The dear
bishop says l am bearing up wonderfully; but
what night! How can I describe it? Where
shall L begin: They are gone, the marQuiSe,
the rubieS, all my dear, dear Jewels and had
II not been for the heroiSm of my devoted
isabel your child might now be a cold, gray
corpse! was sleeping, oh so soundly, when
there was the most awful scream. / sat up,
and at length dared to open my eyes. The
gas was lighted. strong draught blew in
from the window by the fire escape, but not so
strong as to kill the SiCkening fumes of
chlorofOrm. There was Isabel in the middle
OF the floor crying with all her might: Stop
him, catch him. A man O. a man" And
there was Clara sitting on her bed looking at
ner sister with the StrangeSt expression At
the sound of that dreadful name l hid my
head under the pillows and knew
no more until the people came to our
rescue Then. after camphOr and burned feath-
ers and aromatic ammonia, I learned that we
three had been robbed, that my precious
Isabel had caught the thief in the very act,
and that he had fed before her undaunted
mien. Wash she Just perfectly splendid?
And she has always seemed so timorous. too.
But the dear bishop says that ''Timidity Is
the proof OF coral-I mean moral-courage."
l must now close, for nv hand trembles so
that all my heavy strokes are blots But l
am all right. With much love- Aida
/. S.-CIafa is so cold and inSensible. I
think she must be jealous of her sisters
laurels. How wrong l am disappointed in
her.
Clara's strange insensibility only in
creased with time. 1t remained constant
after the detectives had come and gone
and the newspapers had agitated and ig-
nored, and the sensation had spread and
dwindled 1t was as if the burglar had
borne away with the other gems that
cheerfulness which had been her attri-
butte She became moody and melancholy
Her pillow was often wet with tears and
when she slept she sighed. Once only
did Isabel refer to this change. and that
was when they were alone the day after
the catastrophe
perhaps you will honor me with YOUR
confidence sufficiently to tell me under
what grief you are wasting away?n she
had asked mockingly.
Il will tell you" Clara had replied,
gazing at her sister with great eyes of
dread. II am nearly crazed with fear and
modification and shame. l saw you,
Isabel Germaine!'
After this Isabel would shrug her
shoulders and murmur ''tantrums" when
Aida spoke of Clara S apathy, and grad
ually throughout the school the impress
sion grew that the girl was sullen and i'll
natured, so much so that the bishop was
moved to remark to the master that he
feared the younger Miss Germaine was
sowing the seeds of future unhappiness,
and to deliver pointed" Wednesday even
ing TALK on the insidiousness of envy.
But Isabel gained in popularity from
the very contrast with both teachers and
pupils. She was so unaffected sonaturaI,
and bore her hOnOrs so unConsciously
Therefore there was general rejoicing
when she received a dispatch to Join her
father in the metropolis, for they all
thought she was well deserving of an out
ing.
She went; the period of her stay termi-
mated, yet she did not return and the
master sent inquiries which were not
answered, and the girls whispered to-
gether of kidnapping and such like hor-
rors. Then Clara received a letter. not
through the ordinary course of the exam
med mails, but handed her slyly by a
servant, with dubious wink. She read
1t and wOndered she read it again and
again and wondered the more. What
could it mean? What new evil did il
conceal and whatfreveal2 Poor child
She was so lonely, so frightened She
had SiSler, indeed, but would a sister
write like this? For thus it read:
When you hear about papa, your moral
hero as hear you must, you will be all
broken up AS for me, I've known it for
some time and | find an Unholy pride and
joy in the connection. But you are a
poor, good little dear. Therefore, if the
priest and Levite come TO your aid. stick
by them and never think of me- But if
they pass by on the other side, come at
to this Samaritan at the Arcade
Prentonville, where she will be for the
next month, and she will bind YOUR
wounds. have money-you know how
and l can get more. ] also have beauty
and youth What more should one ask of
Hfe} 'Vive la bagatelle, say II
Clara could only bow her humble head
and wait. Her sister was thief and an
adventures! Her father was involved
in mysterious trouble, which she realized
must be disgraceful! Her father, her
moral hero as Isabel sneeringly wrote.
yet how true ii was! She had seen but
little of him, for they had been kept at
one school and another since infancy, but
this little had possessed potency which
familiarity might have weakened. 1t had
taken his graces, and the man had MANY
and from them cOnstrlcteda demipod Of
goodness. As if smiles and gentle words
and kindly deeds may not inclose a black
and fiinty heart! What could she do but
wait and trust, if not in her kindred
then in these people of pious fame and
works who surrounded her They would
not miSiudpe her nor Olaoa fbe cine sc