The evening times., 1899-12-23
ired brown head dropped out of her hands


and BOotles was gone.
As she looked at the thin little body, 81
wasted with fretting and heartbreak, an,
remembered how she had betrayed hi
faithful affection, letting him sink out o
life unheeded, uncared for. with never
kind word, and her last act of which h,
was conscious blow, the bitter waters o
remorse closed above her head. With ev
erything blOtted out but her sin and III
consequences, she wept anguished tear
over the piteous little victim OF prosperity
and the stahlemen standing around. amaz
ed and sympathetic, knew that this was NJ
maudlin grief. but deeply sOrrowing wo
man in an agony of penitence.
She could remember her other frient
Iow, and her treatment of him-the dis
loyalty she has contemplated stood out
scarlet sin against the pain of loss. They
were the Only ones who had loved hel
faithfully through many years, and she hat
betrayed them both, the one to death ant
the other! Supposing God had pun.
ished her by taking the man, TOO, so leav-
ing her no place for repentance. He had
not written for two months and 1t might
easily be so. The fear and terror master ed
her completely; she could not look at such
an apprehension without turning giddy as
though the solid earth rocked under her
feet. There was only one way of escape
only one voice in the whole world which
could comfort her then, and, turning tC
the helper, who. in his rough way, h id
been kind TO Bottles, she begged him to
get the dogeart ready, and drive her to tie
station.
Il must catch the up train, / must,'
And the man, plying the suffering OF
her face. which had changed II SO utterly
in few moments, did her bidding word
lessly. But the anger of Uncle Marsh and
his contemptuous indignation at her folly,
was by no means wordless. nor could she
answer him anything, for he would not
have understood, being worldly wise only.
Moreover, TO her, standing at last face Ia
face with the tremendous issues OF life, he
and his like were merely shadows; she saw
nothing clearly but her remorse and the
chance OF atonement. which was as eity
of refuge against unquenched fire.
Without one look back she pressed on 10
ii, grudging every precious moment The
man drove fast, but fear hurried before her.
II he, too, should be dead That was the
dread growing stronger as the lights OF
London fiared against dark sky. If his
place was vacant where should she go TO
die Of grisf and repentance?
And 10 think ! have been going to
church all these months with my heart
growing harder than a stone! God be mer-
ciful to me a sinner"
She was too confused with suspense and
fear TO remember clearly afterward how
she got into the dull, cheap street, but once
there she walked slowly. dreading unspeak-
ably TO see no light in his window. II was
there, however, and sheer thankfulness
made her pause and cling giddily to the
railings
The landlady opening the door cautiously
for it was getting late-remembered her,
and allowed her 10 go upstairs unannounc-
ed. The room door was already a 'trine
open, so Lucy had only TO push it noise
lessly a few more inches to see John Sin
clair sitting alone by the fire For Won
der he was doing nothing, and looking
quite unlike a man who had been recently
promoted 10 greater prosperity. The old
patient courage was still there, having deep
each days toll was gone. He
sat lisilessly in weariness OF spirit and
the prematurely grey head began to droop
a little-nearer the earth. Upon the shah
by mantelpcece-so carefully dusted-stood
Lucy's photograph, and in front of it, as
though a shrine. was placed tiny glass
Of violets. They were fresh and fragrant,
and it broke her heart TO see that, like
Bootles, his love outliyed her own faith
Iessness.
She had made as she thought no sound
yet he turned suddenly and saw her, and
the great joy Transforming his face shanled
her for she knew herself not worthy of his
love. Ii was a wholesome humbling for
the woman who had grievously erred, but
bitter. She tried to stammer
OF this before John took her to
mis- heart. but he would not listen. II was
enough that she had returned to him OF
ler own free Withholding mattered after
hat. yet his very first question. as he plac
ID her tenderly in his own armchair. had
to the little friend who had al
,nly thing lacking.
Where is Bottles, my darling?"
And Lucy, remembering the thin little
,ody so wasted with fretting burst into
passion OF grief which startled him.
''Bootles is dead, He died today, | neg
ected him shamefully-but he loved me
through it ALL"
And thus John Sinclair understood
,veryihng: he knew why she had been
ilent through months, leaving him COM
ortless. but he also knew why she had
ONE back-that love and repentance had
rawn her to his side to leave him no more. |
I was easy 10 forgive, seeing the pain of
uch sharp lesson on her suffering face |
terribly sharp lesson yet so sorely need |
d.
Don't grieve so, my dear one, In life be |
owed US dearly, and his death has, think |
-brought-us-together
His own voice was not steady then, and |
or time neither spoke. yet thanksgiving |
vas in the air. |
When he had quieted her into calmness |
e showed her the ferns of which she had |
poken when they parted
See. Lucy. the delicate one is now the |
trongest of them ALL |
They are far from rich and Lucy has |
ot one silk gown. but the grace of God is |
n their house, and children's feet move |
lthely about il.
The writer likes to think that the di- |
inc justice and mercy which allows moth
ng good TO be wasted or lost permits a |
aithful little shadow to steal sometimes
lto the warmth of that hearth. where he !
remembered so lovingly still, to rejoice
S OF old in their joy.-From Good Words.
VAN BEERS FAIRY PALACE.