The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1899-03-11

his fathers arms. What does mamma
mean? Where are you gonC?"
ITO America to shoot bears" returns
Baltimore with an embarrassed laugh.
How near to tears it is.
Real live bears?'
Yes"
Take me-" says the child, e1citcdly.
And leave mamma"
"Oh, she'll come, too" says BERTHE, con-
fidently. She'll come where | go"
Where he would go-the child! But would
she go where the father went? Baltimore 8
brow darkened.
Il am afraid it is ont Of the question, F"
he says, putting BERTHE back again upon
the carpet. where the fox-terrier is bark
ing furiously and jumping up and down
in frenzied fashion as if desirous of de-
vouring the child's legs. The bears
might eat you. When you are big and
strong"
You will come back for ps?" CRIES
Bertie. eagerly.
Perhaps"
He will not" breaks in Lady Balti-
more, violently. He will come back TO
more. When he goes you will never see
him again. He has said SO. He is going
forever" These last terrible words seem
to have sunk into her soul. She cannot
cease from repeating them.
Let the boy alone" says Baltimore,
angrily.
The child is looking from one parent TO
the other. He seems puzzled. expcctant,
but scarcely unhappy. Childhood can
grasp n great deal, but not all. The more
unhappy the childhood, the more it can
understand of the sudden and larger ways
of life. But children dclicately brought
up and clothed in love from their cradle
find it hard to realize that an end TO their
happiness can ever come.
Tell me. papa" says he Mt last, in a
vague. sweet little way.
What is there TO tell?' replies his faith
cr, with a most meager laugh, except
that | saw Beecher bringing in some fresh
oranges half an hour ago. Perhaps he
hasn't eaten them all yet. If you were to
ask him for one"
'I'll find him." cries BERTHE, brightly,
forgetting everything but the present mo-
ment. Come, Trixy, come" to his dog;
you shall have some. too"
You see, there won't he much trouble
with him" says Baltimore. when the boy
has run out of the room in pursuit of or
anges. 1T will take him 4 day perhaps
and after that he will be quite your own
If you won't sign these papers to-day YOU
will perhaps tomorrow. ! had better 20
and tell Hansard that you would like TO
have a little time to look them over"
He walks quickly down the room, opens
the door and closes it after him.
He has not, however, gone three yards
down the corridor when the door is again
opened, and Lady Batimorc's voice calls
after him:
"Baltimore" Her tone is sharp. highly
agonized-the tone of one strung to the
highest pitch of despair. 1t startIes him
He turns to look at her. She is standing
framed in by the doorway and one hand
is graSping the woodwork with hold so
firm that the knuckles are showing white
With the other hand she bcckons him to
approach her He obcys her He is even
so frightened ut the strange. gray look in
her face that he draws her bodily into the
room again. shutting the door with a pres
sure Of the hand he can best spare.
What is itT' says he, looking down Mt
her
She has managed to so far overcome the
faintness that has been threatening her n :
to shake him off and stand free. leaning
against chair behind her.
Don't go" says she, hoarscly.
1t is impossible TO misunderstood her
meaning 1t has nothing whatever to do
with his interview with the lawyer wait
ing so patiently down below, but with
that final wandering of his into regions
unknown. She is az white as death.
How is this. Isabel" asks he. He is
as white as she is now. DO You know
what you are saying? This is a moment
of excitement: You do not comprehend
what yOur words mean
Stay! Stay for his sake
rs that all:" says he. his eyes search
ing hers.
For mine. then"
The words seem to scorch her. She GOV
crs her face with her hands and stands
before him. stricken dumb. miserable
confessed.
For yours
He goes closer to her. and ventures to
take her hand. 1t is cold-cold as death.
His is burning.
You have given n reason for my stay,
ing. indeed" says he. But what is the
meaning of it,
This" cries she. throwing mp her head.
and showing him her shamcd and grief
stricken facc. Il am a coward. In spite
of everything | would not have you go
so far.'
Il see. understand" he signs. heavily.
and yet that story was n foul lie, 1t is
all that stands between us, Isabel. Is 1t
not so? But you will not believe"
Ill l.
neither Of them stirs. They seem wrap
ped in thought-in silencc-he still holding
her hand.
"If it was lie says she Mt last break
ing the quiet around them by an effort.
would you 90 far forgive my distrust OF
you as to be holding my hand like this:"
Yes What is there I would not for
give you?' says he. And it was n lc.'
Cyril" cries She in great agitation,
take care. 1t is a last moment, DO you
dare to tell me that still?'
You doubt" says nc. with stern
glance. so be it. you shall see the letter
she wrote me on her bed of death, Though
how will that satisfy you? For you can
always crafty your desire for suspicion
by regarding il as n forgery. The woman
herself Is dead. 80, Of course, there is no
one to contradict | will bring you the
letter." moving toward the door. When
he does bring it-when she had road II
and satisfied herself Of the loyalty 81 long
doubted, where ne Hsks himself. will they
two he then? Further apart than ever:
He has forgiven n great deal-much more
than fhis-and yet. strange human nature"
he knows if he once leaves the room and
her presence now. he will never return
again. The letter she will see-but him
never,
The door is open. lie has almost cross
ed the threshold. Once again her voice
recalls him. once again he looks back. She
is holding out her arms to him.
Cyril. Cyril she cried. Il believe
you
She stacge.s toward him. MerrifalIy
:he fountain of her tears breaks ioosc. she
fngs herself into his willing arms AMI
sobs ont whole world Of grief upon hi,