The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1894-12-14
[CoNTINUED.1
CHAPTER vi.

her husband; that he had never loved
her; that she was only an instrument
for unworthy retaliation. So soon as
she could speak after her accident she
told them that they must not write to
him and tell him of it. She also made
them promise that they would give him
no news of her at all, save that she was
we'll They could not refuse to promise
They felt she had the right to demand
much more than that. They had begun
to care for her for herself, and when
the months went by and one day there
was "a hush about her room and anxiety
and then relief in the faces of all, they
came to care for her still more for the
sake Of her child.
AS the weeks passed the fair haired
child grew more and more like his IA
ther, but if Lali thought of her husband
they never knew by anything she said,
for she would not speak of him. She
also made them promise that they would
not write to him of the child's birth.
Richard, with his sense of justice and
knowing how much the woman had
been wronged, said that in all this she
had done quite right; that Frank, if he
had done his duty after marrying her,
should have come with her. And be-
cause they all felt that Richard had
been her best friend as well as their own
they called the child after him. This
also was Lali's wish. Coincident with
her motherhood there came to Lali a
new purpose. She had not lived with
the AGmours without absorbing some of
their fine social sense and dignity. This,
added to the native instinct of pride in
her, gave her new ambition AS hour by
hour the child grew dear to her, so hour
by hour her husband grew away from
her She schooled herself against him.
At times she thought she hated him.
She felt she could never forgive him, but
she would prove to him that it was she
who had made the mistake of her life iii
marrying him; that she had been
Wronged, not he, and that his sin
would face him with reproach and pun
ishment one day. Richards prophecy
was likely to come true. She would de-
feat very perfectly indeed Franks in
tentions After the child was born, so
soon as she was able, she renewed her
studies with Richard and Mrs. Armour
She read every morning for hours; she
rode; she practiced all those graceful
arts of the toilet belonging to the social
convention; she showed an unexpected
faculty for singing and practiced it
faithfully, and she begged Mrs. Ar
mour and Marion to correct her at every
point where correction seemed neces-
sary. When the child was two years old,
they all went to London, something
against Lali's personal feelings, but
quite in accord with what she felt her
duty.
Richard was left behind at Greyhope.
For the first time in IS months he was
alone with his old quiet duties and rec
reations. During that time he had not
neglected his pensioners-his poor, sick,
halt and blind-but deeper, larger in
terest had come into his life in the per-
son Of Lali. During all that time she
had seldom been out of his sight, never
out Of his influence and tutelage. His
days had been full, his every hour had
been given keen responsible interest.
AS if by tacit consent, every incident or
development of Lali's life was influ-
enced by his judgment and decision. He
had been more to her than General Ar
mour, Mrs. Armour or Marion. Schooled
as he was in all the ways of the world,
he had at the same time mind as SEN
sitive as a woman's, an Understandable
gentleness, persuasive temperament.
Since, years before, he had withdrawn
from the social world and become re-
cluse many of his finer qualities had
had once loved the world and the gay
life of London, but some untoward
event, coupled with radical love of
retirement, had sent him into years Of
isolation at Greyhope
His tutelar relations with Lali had
reopened many an old spring OF sensa-
ton and experience. Her shy depend
ency, her innocent inquisitiveness, had
searched out his remotest sympathies.
In teaching her he had himself been re-
taught. Before she came he had been
satisfied with the quiet usefulness and
studious ease of his life, but in her
presence something of his old youthful
ness came back, some reflection of the
ardent hopes of his young manhood He
did not notice the change in himself.
He only knew that his life was very
full. He read later at nights, he rose
earlier in the morning, but unconscious
ly to himself he was undergoing
change. The more mans sympathies
and emotions are active the less is he
the philosopher. 1t is only when one
has withdrawn from the more personal
influence of the emotions that ones phi
losophy may be trusted.
One may be interested in mankind
and still be philosophical-may be, as
it were, the priest and confessor to all
corners. But let one be touched in some
vital corner in ones nature, and the
high faultless impartiality is gone In
proportion as Richards interest in Lali
had grown, the universal quality of his
sympathy had declined. Man is only
man. Not that his benefactions as lord
bountiful in the parish had grown per-
functory, but the calm detail of his in
terest was not so definite. He was the
same, yet not the same.
He was not aware of any difference
in himself He did not know that he
looked younger by 10 years. Such is the
effect of mere personal sympathy upon
a mans look and bearing When, there
fore, one bright May morning the fam
lily at Greyhope, himself excluded, was
ready to start for London, he had no