The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-09-01

BY MARY ANGELA DICKENS.


{ ing. and had met her death al the hands
probably of tramp As completely, how
I ever. as though he had never existed had
f all sign or token Of the man either before
or after the deed. disappeared from the
+ face of the earth.
During that FIRST terrible twelve month
4 which had made an old man Of Alan Du-
rant, the one cry OF his heart day and
night had been for vengeance. He had
y left no stone unturned hehad strained ev-
cry nerve. be had spent hls money like
+ water. and IL had all been in vain. He
could discover nothing. He had taken up
his quarters in London that he might be
B constantly az hand 10 sift and follow up
win desperate "reminiscences any and eV-
cry clue The police might find for him, and
when az last every resource was exhaust
ed. and he was told by the authorities at
Scotland Yard that there was nothing
more to be done lat present" he was like
man whose llfe was over.
Such machinery as could still be kept in
motion he had arranged for. and then he
had gone abroad with such faint hope in
his heart as only death itself could finally
destroy
Three years had passed since then, and
NE was sad, self-contained man with the
same hope deep and quiet in his heart,
when ne fell In with his uncle and cousin
at Florence. and for the first time since
his sisters death, wOmanly sympathy
came into his life. Brenda Forsyth had
been engaged for nearly four years to
man know to Durant only by name-Ed-
mund Sartorys-and between herself and
her cousin had grown up the friendly init
macy OF cOusinhOOd at its best and simp-
lest II, as the weeks they spent in Italy
passed, there stirred in Alan Durant
consciousness that If his gentle womanly
cousin had been free ne might have loved
/ her. he was too strong and sensible a man
7 he La hf-
tween them.
He had been travelling with the For
syths for nearly two months when the ar
rangements were made by which Mr.. For
syth rented the Red House Of him: and
shortly afterward his uncle and cousin
returned TO England ,ney had been es-
! tablished in the country for about
month. when Alan happened to be in Lon
don on business. had again come across
Mr.. Forsyth by an accident. and had. TO
his own SUNRISE, accepted that CHEEKY
and rather 'obtuse old gentleman's invi-
tation to stay a little time I'm his old home
He was in and weary and worn out, and
he wanted to rest. He would go home, he
| told himself, and think of his little lost
sister in her happy childhood. and Bren-
das gentle companiOnship would soothe
him.
Brenda Forsyth looked more than her
five and twenty years as she stood under
the trees now, watching her cousin. She
was a TAN girl. and her face with its
frame Of waving brown hair was very
sweet and sensible. She had been her IA
TIERS right hand and companion ever
since she was 10; not a spoit child to
him, but such a reliable friend as he had
needed since her mothers death. Her
large, brown eyes, so fun of pity now,
looked out from under her white fore
head and level brows with a frank kindly
glance, and the firm lips were always ready
10 curve into a smile There was no
smile about them now however. nothing
but the deepest sympathy and sorrow
and she waited by him until at last Alan
Durant lifted white, 'haggard face and
said with "A faint, sad smile, Il beg your
pardon. Brenda"
Don't" she said, softly. laying her hand
on his arm. There was another moment $
| pause, and then she added i'm a more or
binary tone. shall we 20 in now?" turn
/ ing as he assented and walking with him
down the path toward the house.
Mr. Forsyth was waiting for his daugh-
ter ana his afternoon tea when they
reached the cool pretty drawing
| a room which Brenda never entered with
out thought of the girl who had gone
out from it to come back no more. He was
a tall goo-tempered looking man of over
five and sixty, whose kindness had al
ways been considerable stroger than his
intellect.
"sit down. sit down, my boy" he said
heartily, quite unconscious of the incon-
gruity between this epithet and the white
haired man he addressed. Brenda will
give us some tea. You look as though you
wanted some tea, or some country air,
or something, and that's the fact. Heard
from Edmund. to-day. Brenda?
mo, father, not to-day
Brenda was pouring out tea, and she
/ answered quite composedly, with no anX-
/ iety and little regret in her voice 1t was
/ four years now since she had said
/ yes" when Edmund Sartorys, the son
/ friends had asked her to be
his wife after months eager
courtship. She had thought herself very
much in love with him; her father had for
warded it openly. saying finally, when his
consent was asked, that he would rather
/ give his daughter and his money to his
/ old friends son than TO any other man
and stipulated only that there should b,
mo hurry" about the marriage. Their,
] had been mo hurry" and things haC
drifted on and on until the engagement
I had apparently come to b,
looked on, even by the tive
parties Immediately concerned, as a stand
ing arrangement. in which no change was
likely to be made for an indefinite period
Il
daughter gave him and turned again L
Alan.
You've not met Edmund, l think. have
you, my boy? Brenda, show him the
photograph you've gCN over there"
Brenda rose with a smile at Alan, and
| crossing the room brought from little
table cabinet photograph frame.
Her cousin rose TO receive ii from hel
and turning SO that a better light might
fan upon the picture, he looked at il
attentively. To him il was the face OF
a man who had had the good luck tC
forestan him in Brenda Forsyth's heart
Good looking fellow, isn't hep said
Mr.. Forsyth, as Brenda returned to heI
seat.
Very" responded Alan Durant, quiet
ly. and then he crossed the room and re-
placed the frame on the table.
And what have you two been doing
with yourself this afternoon" continued
Mr.. Fors! n. contentedly. Been in the
garden, ehE Very pleasant it is in the gar
den, Ell? Very pleasant it is in the gar
den these hot days. That's an odd thing
about the statue there, Alan, by-tho-bye
l never heard Of such a case before"
He turned his head he spoke ant
looked out of the window near which
Alan stood. In the foreground was the
delightful old garden. bright and sweet