The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-12-17


he wanted, the filthy money which was
the end OF all
oh, mem. cried Gilchrist. again
1 weeping, ''diuna say that now. Even if
| il were true. which the Lord forbid g,
dinna say il now"
! But her mistress was not TO be con
trolled. The stream Of recollection of
! pent-up feeling, the brOoding Of a life
( time, set free by this sudden discovery of
her story. which was like the breaking
down Of dyke TO a river, rushed forth
| like that river in food. i have thought
many time, she cried-''when my heart
was sick of the silence, when ! still trem-
| bled that he would come, and wished that
| he would come for all that knew. like
fool woman that / was, as all women are
| that maybe his not coming was a sign
of grace, that he had maybe forgotten,
maybe been untrue, but that il was not
/ at least the money, the money and moth
ing more. To know that / had that ac-
| cursed siller and not to come for il was
sign of grace. | was kind of glad. But
il was not that" she cried, pacing TO and
| fro like a wild cFeature-''jt was not that
He would have come, oh. and explained
everything. made everything clear and
| told me to my face it was for my sake, if
| it had not been that death stepped in and
disappointed him, as he had disappointed
| me"
Miss Bethune ended with harsh laugh.
and after a moment seated herself again
| in her chair. The tempest of personal
| feeling had carried her away, quenching
| even the other and yet stronger sentiment,
| which for so many years had been the
| passion of her life. She had been sud
| denly, strangely driven back 70 a period
which even now, in her sober middle age,
| IL was kind of madness to think Of-the
| years which she had lived through in
f,,1 Ill o., L.
| yet no mother, cut of from everything
but the monotonous, prolonged, unending
formula of girlhOod out of date, the life
| without individuality, without meaning
and without hope, of large-minded and
active woman, kept to the role of a child,
in house where there was not even af
| lection to sweeten it.
The recollection of those terrible, end
| less, changeless days, running into
| years as undistinguishable, the
falsehood of every circumstance and
/ appearance, the secret existence
| of love and sacrifice, of dread and
| disenchantment, of strained hope and
| failing illusion, and final and awful de-
| spair, of which Gilchrist alone knew any
thing-Gilchrist, the faithful servant, the
| sole companion Of he heart-came back
upon her with all that horrible sense of
the intolerable which such martyrdom
| brings She had borne it in its day-how
had she borne it! Was it possible that a
woman could go through that and live2
Her heart torn from her bosom, her baby
torn from her side, and no one, no one but
| Gilchrist, to keep a little life alive in her
| heart. And it had lasted for years
many, many, many years-all the years
| of her life, except those first twenty which
tell for so little In that rush of passion
she did not know how time passed,
whether il was five minutes or an hour
that she sat under the inspection of the
old lawyer, whom this puzzle of human
ity filled with sort of professional inter
est, and who did not think it necessary to
withdraw, or had any feeling of intrusion
upon the sufferer. IL was not really a
long time, though it might have been a
year, when she reused herself and took
hold of her forces, and the dread pano-
rama rolled away.
Gradually the familiar things around
her came back. She remem bered herself
no despairing girl, no soul in bondage, but
a sober woman, disenchanted in many
ways, but never yet cured of those hopes
and that faith which hold the ardent
spirit of life. Her countenance changed
with her thoughts, her eyes ceased to be
distracted and visionary, her color came
back. She turned to the old gentleman
with look which for the first
time disturbed and bewildered thai
Ola anu HdIutuGu spectator Vi iilt
vicissitudes of life. Her eyes filled
with a curious liquid light, an expires
sion wistful, fattering, entreating. She
| looked at him as child look:
who has a favour to ask, her head
a little on one side, her lips quiverinl
, with smile. There came into the law
: yer's mind, he could not tell how. a
! ridiculous sense of being a superior being
! a kind of god able to confer untold ad
vantages and favours. What did the
} woman want of him! What-it did no
matter what she wanted-could he dc
for her? Nothing that he was aware
! and a sense of the danger of being cajoleC
} came into his mind but along with that
which was ridiculous, though he coult
! not help it., a sense of being really
2 superior being, able to grant favours, anC
benignant, as he had never quite know
} himself to be.
MIR Templar,' she said, 'now all i
} over there is not another word to say, anC
now the bOy-my boy
| ''Ihe boy?" he repeated, with sur
prised air
My child that was taken from me a,
soon as he was born, my little helples
BARN that never knew his mother-m,
: son, my son Give me a right to him
and there can be no more doubt about it
that nobody may say it is not mine. -
} The old lawyer was more confused thar
Z words cOuld say. Inc very sense she hat
managed to convey TO his mind of being
superior being, full of graces and gifts t,
, confer, made his downfall the NOR
ludicrous to himself. He seem to tumbl
down from an altitude quite visionary
yet very real. as if by some neglect or i'll
viii of his own. He felt himself hu
inflated, culprit before her. My dea
: lady, - he said, you are going too fas
: and too far for me. | did not even know
l there was any Stop! | think | begil
to remember"
2 Yes" she said, breathless,-"ye -
Z looking at him with supplicating eyes.
Now it comes back to me-" he said
2 "I-I-am afraid l give it no Importance
7 There was baby-yes, little thing
few weeks, or a few months old-tha
died "
She sprang up again once more TO hel
, feet, menacing, terrible. She was big
ger, stronger, far more full of life, thai
e he was She lowered over to him, he
! face full of tragic passion. 1t is no
| true-it is not true!n she cried
2 My dear lady, how can / know? VIVA
can do? ! can but tell you the iustruc
tions given to me; it had slipped out o
? my mind, it seemed of little importanc,
in comparison. A baby that was too del
icate to bear the separation from its
mother, ] remember it all now. / am yer,
sorry, very sorry, if | have conveyed any
false hopes to your mind. The baby dice
2 not long after it was taken away"
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