Omaha daily bee., 1899-03-05

WIN u DIlCh~HOOItu COIJdBt anu a uuobduu
of failing wits. But no one, to my knowl-
edge, has ever heard a complaint from her
lips, and the dignity of her afflicted wife,
hood has far transcribed the haughtiness
of those days when she had but to smile to
have all the youth Of Portchester at her
feet"
II suppose 1t was the loss of so many
children that reconciled her to a quiet life.
A woman cannot close the eyes of six chill
dren, one after the other, without some
modification taking place in her character"
Eyes, she and Philemon have been I'M
fortunate; but she was a splendid looking
girl, boys. l never see such grand-looking
women now"
In a little one-storied cottage on the hill
side a woman was nursing a baby and talk
ing at the same time of Agatha Webb.
, Il shall never forget the night my first
baby fell sick" she faltered. II was just
out of bed myself, and having no nearer
neighbors then than now, l was all alone
on the hillside, Alec being away at sea.
l was too young to know much about sick
ness, but something told me that l must
have help before morning or my baby
would die. Though l could just walk across
the floor, l threw a shawl around me, took
my baby in my arms and opened the door.
A binding gust of rain blew in. A terrible
storm was raging and l had not noticed it.
l was so taken up with the child.
Il could not face that gale. Indeed, was
so weak | fell on my knees as it struck me
and became dripping wet before l could drag
myself inside. The baby began to moan
and everything was turning dark before me,
when l heard a strong, sweet voice cry out
in the roadway:
is there room in this house for me till
the storm has blown by? l cannot see my
way down the hillside
with a bursting heart I looked up. A
woman was standing in the doorway. with
the look of an angel in her eyes. 1 did not
know her, but her face was one to bring
comfort to the saddest heart. Holding up
my baby, l cried:
my baby is dying; I tried to go for the
doctor, but my knees bent under me. Help
me, as you are a mother-I-
II must have fallen again, for the next
thing l remember l was lying by the hearth,
looking up into her face which was bending
over me-. She was white as the rag l had
tied about my baby's throat, and by the
way her breast heaved she was either very
much frightened or very sorry.
al wish you had the help of any one else,'
said she. Babies perish in my arms and
wither at my breast. 1 cannot touch it,
much as 1 yearn to. But let me see its
Lace, perhaps l can tell you what Is thd
matter with it.
Il showed her the baby's face, and she
bent over it, trembling very much, almost
as much, indeed, as myself.
1t is very sick she said, but II you
will use the remedies l advise l think you
can save IT. and she told me what to do and
helped me all she could, but she did not lay
a finger on the little darling, though from
the way she watched 1t l saw that her heart
was set on his. getting better. And he did;
in an hour he was sleeping peacefully, and
the terrible weight was gone from my
heart and from hers. When the storm
stopped and she could leave the house she
gave me a kiss, but the look she gave him
meant more than kisses. God must have
forgotten her goodness to me that night
when he let her die so pitiable a DEATH
AIT the minister's house they were COM
menting upon the look of serenity observable
in her dead face.
81 have known her for thirty years" her
pastor declared, "and never before have I
seen her wear a look Of real peace. 1t is
wonderful, considering the circumstances
Do you think she was SO weary of her life's
long struggle that she hailed any release
from it, even that of violence?"
A young man, a lawyer visiting them from
New York, was the only one to answer.
81 never saw the woman you are talking
about" said he. "and know nothing of the
circumstances of her death beyond what you
have told me. But from the very incongruity
between her expression and the violen,
nature of her death, l argue that there are
depths to his crime which have not yet
been sounded"
murder, followed by theft. To be sure we
do not yet know the criminal, but money was
the motive; that is clear enough"
Are you ready to wager that that Is all
htere is to it?"
This was a startling proposition to the
minister.
You forget my CLOTH" said he.
Tho young man smiled. THAT is true.
Pardon me. l was only anxious to show
how strong my conviction was against any
such easy explanation of a crime marked by
such contradictory features
Two children on the Portchester road were
exchanging boyish condolences.
do you know what / think about it?"
asked one.
Nav! How should II"
wall, l think old Mrs. Webb got the
likes of what she sent. Don't you know
she had six children once, and that she
killed every one of them?"
KILLED EN-, she?"
Yes, ! heard her tell granny once all
about it. She said there was a blight on
her house. / don't know what that is; but
l guess it's something big and heavy, and
that 1t fell on every one of her children az
fast as they came, and killed EN-"
Then I'm glad | bent her child"
Very different we're the recollections inter
changed between two middle-aged Port
chester women.
she was drinking tea at my house when
her sister Sairey came running In with the
news that the baby she had left at home
wasn't quite right. That was her first
child, you know.
Yes, yes, for l was with her when that
baby came" broke in the other, and such
JOY as she showed when they told her it
was alive and well | never saw. / do not
know why she didn't expect it to be alive,
but she didn't. and her happiness was just
wonderful to see.'
well. she didn't enjoy 1t long. The poor
little fellow died young. But l was telling
you of the night when she first heard he
was ailing. Philemon had been telling a
good story. and we were all laughing, when
sairey came in. / can see Agatha now.
She always had the most brilliant eyes in
the country, but that day they were superbly
dazzling. They changed. though, at the
sight of Sairey's face, and she jumped to
meet her just as II she knew what Sairey
was going to say before ever a word left
her Inns MY hahyf' n can har bar yat /