The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-08-24

!. T + = -
wnIcil Il romantic paragraph had been
written, was turned down, occasional
~, at long intervals, to be opened and
reread.
| Her marriage to young Gabriel Van
Cortlandt, a scion of family as aris-
tocratic as her own and with wealth
that even exceeded her fathers, had
been one Of the gay fetes of gay sea-
son in the metropolis The honeymoon
being over. they had settled down to a
home life in which the entertainment
of the best people was the most con-
spicuous feature. Thousands envied
the beautiful bride her possession of
her handsome husband and her lux
urious home. Yet once again wealth
failed to procure what her soul most
sought. The years passed, and no
offspring blessed their union.
Disappointed in the first instance,
she determined that in this second she
should not be entirely unsatisfed So
plans were made and details arranged,
in which respect at least her money
aided her, and when at length the ar
rival of the infant was announced
none doubted that a genuine Van Cort-
landt had been born into the world
none but that honest old matron at
the maternity hospital and that other
woman, the patron of the institution,
who had indeed suggested the scheme
/ to the young couple and had lent them
her aid.
! AT the appointed time closed car
riage had been driven to the hospital,
from which emerged two yelled wo-
men who hurried into the building and
were conducted into private room
where they were Joined by the matron
In few moments three tiny little
bundles We're brought in. One contain
ed boy baby
| mo. nor said Mrs. Van Cortlandt
II want girl. The boy will be able
to make his own way in the world
when he grows to manhood 1 wish
| to save one of these little helpless ba-
bies of my own sex"
/ Then the matron showed two others,
both girls. One was large and round
J and rosy. with eyes wide open and
| staring at those about as though in
| quiring why she had been awakened,
for very wide awake she was The
! other was tiny and pale and asleep. one
arm hidden beneath her wrappings,
the other limp and lying in view, the
fingers now stretched wide apart, now
! closing again into little fist that was
anything but weapon with which to
fight the world. This nervous twitch-
ing of the hand was all that showed
! thas she had been disturbed by remoy-
al from her crib.
! Mrs. Van Cortlandt leaned over and
looked at the children, glancing anx-
iously from one to the other.
(which should she select?". ques.
] ton of vast Importance to these two
little ones.
She gently grasped the twitching
hand of the sleeping child, and imme-
! diately its nervous movement ceased,
and it lay at rest. Her heart was
touched as she thought that the con
tact with her own flesh had impaired
peace to the sleeping babe. Then her
eye fell upon the little finger, and her
heart beat. faster. 1t was curiously
curved. She remembered one other
whose fingers were thus fashioned;
A deep crimson flushed her cheek as
she thought that this slight deformity
in the child would keep fresh within
her memory that one bright dream OF
her life, and, hastily dropping her veil
as she arose, she said simply:
4 II select this one"
A Shortly after this her husband had
gone to the war, and she was alone
with her new found treasure, which
grew into her heart till it became, as
it We're, part of her being. Yet, tc
her great surprise, the longer the child
lived and the older it grew the more
faded and indistinct became the mem
Dry which she had thought that the
sight of the curved finger would keep
green. In her love for the young CIR
and her pride in the child's budding
beauty her own hearts longings were
satisfied.
/ 1t puzzled her to think why she
should have revived these memories to
the table, musing over the unsolvet
problem.
"why does it all come back to m,
tonight?"
l Is there any subtle truth in telepa
thy? Did she unknowingly feel tn,
!. impress of the surcharged thoughts
which another mind was sending il
her direction at this moment?
And Perdita, too. was silent, thought
full. But she lived only in the present
The past was beaten track owe
which she need not dwell, the future ,
, dim vista into which the young neve
look except with gaze of hope and ,
, feeling of security.
''All will be well" say the young VIII,
look into the mirror of the future.
But the present and the immediate
morrow-of these Perdita though
much, thought deeply, and was trou
. bled. What ought she to do? Wha
, would she do? Two questions wer
these which might have single an
swer or which might be treated quit
, differently.
"What shall do?" she asked hersel