The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-08-30

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came afterwards was told me after some
/ days by BERTHE Neville. The tiger had
Z killed my husband. as he lay stunned ani
. bleeding beneath him after that first ter
I r-ble spring. Capt Neville's bullet had
T missed him altogether. but a second shot
. had taken effect. The beast left his vic
. tim and sprang towards the house. when a
/ bullet from the planter stretched him
] lfeiess almost az our feet
T Il was very in after that terrible night.
I For on the top OF the shock caused me by
my husbands dreadful end. came news OF
I Gladys which almost broke my heart
/ Two days after BObs death I was on my
way up 10 the hills 10 go to henry sister.
/ While I waited at a roadside hut for the
/ horses to be changed. the downward mail
I arrived loringing-Helen.
I There could be OnlysOne explanation OF
I her coming alone. A glance at her sad
I face told me all. God gave me strength
I TO listen calmly 10 the details Of my dar-
I lings end. She had been seized with chol-
era two hours before that first message
/ had reached me. From the first there was
I little hope. And all the time my little
/ Gladys had wanted me-only me. In her
/ terrible agony she cried out for me. and
I she died with my name on her pure lips"
JOan's face was convulsed with agony,
and again ! begged her TO leave the rest
Of the story. But she went on after a
little
Helen took me home with her, Beat
| rice. The news of my husbands death
| had travelled far and wide But no mes
sages of coincidence were sent 10 me.
1 What my life with him had been was only
too well known, and even his terrible end
called forth no sympathy. As for me, I
could think of nothing but Gladys. II the
thought Of my husband ever came into
my brain IL was only accompanied by bit
! terness. He had prevented my going to
her when she needed me. 1t was his fault
alone that my darling had TO die without
me. I could not forgive him. Beatrice.
/ They say one always forgives the dead,
hut I could not forgive him. I cannot for
give him now, when years have passed
and the grass has grown over my little
ones resting-place.
Il stayed with Helen for some time after
my husbands death. l WIS too III for a
long time to be moved anywhere and, be-
sides, had to be in the place while affairs
were settled. Then / arranged to come
home 70 England. First of all went up
to see the little grave that held all l had
loved so tenderly. I saw the little white
| GROSS erected TO her memory and 1 planted
white flowers with my own hands to watch
over my darling.
Then I returned to Helen. Everyone
seemed sorry that / was going away.
They all came to bid me farewell, and
hoped that some future day would see me
in India again.
ALMOST the last 10 come was Berthe
Neville. Since my husbands death l had
| hardly ever seen him. Helen told me that
| when l was so I'll he had come every day
with panied, anxious eyes, to ask how 1
| Jared. But when l got better he came no
more, and always made excuses to Helen
when she asked him to come. Sometimes
] thought I should go away without ever
seeing him again.
Il suppose 1 ought not to have cared,
but l did, Beatrice. l longed to see him.
| even II it were for the last time. l loved
| that man, but never knew then that he
loved me. At last, two days before 1 was
TO leave, he came. Helen was out sor her
evening drive and her husband away at
his work. l was sitting alone in the cool.
/ shady drawing-room. l heard a footstep
in the verandah. I thought it was Rob-
/ ert Barnard. Suddenly a tall figure stood
beside me- and BERTHE Neville held out his
hand in greeting.
Don't move Mrs Farquhar.' he said
| 1 am sorry / startled you, but l was
passing by and l thought l would like to
| see you again and bid you farewell They
tell me you leave us the day after to-
| morrow
Il thought his voice sounded strange in
| my ears-but put it down to my own
nervousness. I told him l was going, and
we talked together for Vi few minutes.
! Then he rose to go. l held out my hand
! TO him, heard in a far-off kind of a way
! his words of farewell, but my own voice
| made no sound. l could not trust myself
to speak. to thank him for all his gener-
Gus kindness to me in the past and ecao
| his wish that we should meet again.
"A mist of tears blinded me- and at
sight of that his voice trembled and his
strong frame shook. He took both my
hands in his own and came nearer to me.
Are you sorry to say goodbye, Joan?
he said. For Gods sake don't play with
me. never meant to speak to you like
| this. 1t is unmanly and dishonorable
know. But I love you so. II you only
knew how dearly. God help me, what
can l say to you to prevent your looking
| upon me as the brute that l am?
Il don't remember much what I said
! to him, Beatrice. but I know that when
| Helen came back we two went together
| to her. and told her story which hale
the world would condemn, but the other
half, the kinder, gentler. more human
half, would not.
"All the next day we were together. We
talked of the future. We meant to keep
our secret hidden away for a whole year,
and then l promised to come back to In
dia, to become his wife.
1T was better that no change in nv
| plans Should be made. The opinion of the
| world must be consulted, and it seemed
almost wrong to be thinking of such a
future, when my husband had only been
/ in his grave three months But do YOU
think so. l do not think the sternest
| mOralist could think So
/ i Travelled down TO Calcutta with Ber-
tie and Helen. 1 bade her my good kind
friend farewell. with a heart too full for
words. 1 asked her to take care of nv
little Gladys grave The thought Of
leaving her lying up in those far-off hills
alone made my heart ache afresh
And then I babe farewell to that other.
! cannot speak of our parting, Beatrice.
4 Even now. after years, 1 sometimes hear
his voice, see his great brave eyes look
| ing into my own tear-dimmed ones tell
ing me TO be brave and true to him al
ways. l saw him leave the vessel, watch
ed him as he stood beside Helen on the
tender that bore them back to the shore
waited until the great ship began to move.
and until l could no longer distinguish my
two friends amongst the crowd of others.
and then ] went to my cabin.
Il knelt by my berth. 1 prayed to God
in heaven to keep my dear one safe. and
bring us together again. After all the
years of Indebtedness l thought he would
/ listen to me And the ram e1,1 1,ra pca % 49,.