The herald., 1894-01-01
TOO LATE! TOO LATE !
"Too latel Too late !"

wv A'~tt L0t Aat1
1t was q woman who uttered these
despairing words. A woman no longer
young. nor fair, nor hopeful. A woman
whose face bore sad marks OF work and
worry, OF persevering endeavor for pa.
tience and calm after the shsttering :!
early, buoyant hopes. Her hands, too,
bespoke years Of toll, for their joints
were large, the akin thick and seemed
altogether heavy. rngainly we're they.
I The woman'n gaze was divided altern-
ately between the came clodhopper
hands and pile Of gold which lay in a
glittering heap on stand at her side.
One would have thought smile would
have lightened that thin, dark counten-
Rnce aB her eye fell on the lovely heap !;
for not only WAS the shining pile pleas
ant In itself to look upon, but what food
for the imagination did it present! BY
easy exchange it could bring to her the
long-coveted piano, the cosy home,
leisure, the ompanionship Of her peers
Yet, instead Of smile, there gathered
an unusual sterrness in the faded blue
eyes, cloaer tension about the firm
mouth.
All, what delight could have been
hers had that gold heap been rendered
her 20 years ago-when her father died,
leaving an invalid wits and herself PEN
nilese; yes, worse than penniless,
heavily encumbered with debt. She
was at that time an ambitious girl, with
beautiful hands, whose proper element
seemed the ivory keys OF an elegant
piano. She would be be great pianist !;
would faithfully interpret the souls OF
great matters who had flung them back
to the world in music that was half
divine. By go doing she, too, would DO
an uplifting force in the world. And, il
time, might she not hops, like them, to
coin her soul in strains that breathed of
other spheree?
Such had been her dream, her hopo.
The woman's heart ached as it all came
back to her, and q sullen tear slowly
formed in the faded eyes and wearily
felt its way adown the wrinkled, hollow
check. Since 20 years aback what long
days Of coarsest toll had been hers
How had cruel fate robbed her OF her
birthright and Knocked her from day to
day, month by month, year by year,
until at last she said, II will dream no
uOkO, AOASStOhtA S00kd0 lkD0L AA0
are irrevoeably wed the fine, the ex-
centinnal. La mot for me. who nnat make
bread and comforts for another. It is
for those who have friends and money
who can spend long years in careful
preparation; who can afford to WOO and
await the attention of a careless public;
who can bide their time. Not for me %
As she arose to put away the golden
heap again she murmured, "Too,
late, too late !"
Perhaps it was week later that this
same woman might be seen taking a
Sunday afternoon walk in the suburbs
of certain city. She had been visiting
her mothers graye-thst dear mother
who had passed away but week ago.
1t was refreshing to recall her last
words as she walked along. They were
these: "Oh. my daughter. trust in God
Surely He will prove 40 faithful . sup
port to you in time of trial as you, my
dear, have been to mel" Strange,
that her mother should have
died but few days before the coming
of the golden heap, thus robbing her OF
the very last desire for money other
than her own toll could procure. s'This
is g strange world" she muttered, half
aloud. IAN uneuessable conundrum."
But, harkl Whose song was that?
The woman hastened her eteps in the
direction Of sweet sounds which the
breeze waited to her ear. Presently she
had reached decayed, wretched habi-
tation, fit tenant only for rats and snch
like vermin. Unwashed faces and
frowsy locks peered from battered doors
and broken windows. She shrank from
going very close to such quarters, but
she must find from whom came that
sweet, weird refrain; to whom belonged
that rare, princely gift-a singing throat.
group of dirty children gathered as
,he approached the main entrance of the
Some ours began to yelp and
TWO or three boys to hoot, while the girls
and giggled.
"Who was that singing" she asked
If the biggest girl.
Dunno"
sits Pet" volunteered red-headed
BOY.
''No 'jections," said the lad, leading
he way and followed by the entire |
,roup. Evidently the children were az
curious to see the singing girl a. the
yoman.
Up two flights OF stairs the clsttsring
boys and girls went--the woman follow
ng at q safe distRnce-and soon all were |
n the presence Of q timid, dark-eyed
,irl OF 13 or thereabouts. She was not |
inging now, and glanced at the motley |
.roup with q frightened air. Her
lothes were old and worn, though her
ace was clean and her hair neatly,
omb bed. The woman walked up to her,
md tenderly kissing her on the brow,
aid kindly:
Wont you sing us one little song?"
The girl hesitsted moment. then be-
an plaintive melody.
"Where is your father, my little one 2''
dead, ma,am."
sand your mothers"
''DeRd, too."
Have you any frienda-brothe1s and
isters?"
mo, ma'am."
A dirty-lookiug woman now peered
nto the room, Agd seeing the stranger.
ame forward. When asked about the |
title singing girl, she could tell but lit
le,other thIn that the giri's mother was
n actress ~ho had come to the house a
hort time ago and suddenly died.
"Whalt is to become of the little grill"