Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1900-02-18


| be no mental reservations Nothing Is
| to be held back from me.
II have no mental reservations to
SO free from deceit that Fielding in
voluntarily extended his hand.
my dear boy, talk to me as you
would to brother. believe in you. "
The defiant brightness of Teddy's
eyes was Quenched by q sudden mist
| that rose in them. He dashed his hand
across them and then told the story OF
Jane Grey.
Jane Grey's mother was maid to my
! mother when she was a young lady,
and they seem to have been very fond
Of each other. for when my father died
and mother and were lea with moth
ing to live on this maid, who had mar
ried small shopkeeper and moved to
q little town not far from Seabright,
came to see mother and persuaded her
to move over to her home, promising
to get up school for her, which she
did.
Both women were widows at the
time. Mrs. Grey's husband died three
or four years before father. She had
one child-a girl. This girl was just
about my age, and we lived together as
brother and sister-more like brothers,
am afraid, for ] led poor little Jane
into all sorts of risky plays, and was
indirectly responsible for her lameness,
having allowed her to climb tree in
pursuit of me. She fell from it and
broke a leg.
.'That fact always seemed to give
her claim on me, and not seldom,
since she has grown up and felt the
deprivation of her leg more keenly,
she has tainted me with making her
what she was.
'You will remember" he stopped to
question his lawyer, that is one of the
speeches reported by Mrs. Waterman
against me-"
Eyes, yes; go on"
when Jane and were about eleven
years old my mother died and Mrs.
Grey was the only friend I had left in
the world. She was as good woman
as ever lived, and by getting me to do
all the chores about the place tried to
make me feel that I was not a burden
to her.
About year after mothers death
something happened which she had
tried very hard to prevent before she
died. Mrs. Gray snarried second time,
a sailor, who had rather handsome
face and glib tongue, but was per-
fectly worthless He knew that her
| first husband had left her little mon
ey, and then trouble began. He drank,
and Jane and l got the benefit of his
drunken brutality. The only time we
were happy was when his vessel put
| to sea.
"By the time he was fairly out of
the harbor had made up my mind he
should not find me there when he got
back. I told his wife as much, and in
a weeks time 1 had gone back to Sea-
bright to look for work
"The first job / got hold of was wash
ing brushes, mixing paints and clean
ing palettes for a Boston artist who
had come up to Seabright for his
health and the marine views.
Poor fellow, he died up there before
the summer was out. The last thing
he did was to tell our minister to give
me everything he left after his funeral
expenses were paid. He had no rela-
tives.
THAT man-dear old Mr.. Bixby-
gave me my bent for life and my start.
The minister handed me SIS when all
expenses were paid.
HE had talked a good deal to me-
Bixby, l mean-about New York and
Boston in the six weeks we had been
together, and my ambition was fired
to make my own way in one or the
other place.
Jane cried dreadfully when the day
came for me to leave, and her mother
made me promise to let her know all
about myself as soon as I got here,
which l did.
Il had been scrambling along here
one way arli another for year or two
when one night Jane and her mother
Mrs Sloan then, walked in on me at
my boarding house.
Mrs. Sloan looked about done up.
She had run away from her drunken
sailor, leaving no word behind. She
said he would kill Jane yet if she did
not get out of his reach.
"Then she proposed we should look
for fiat, and should board with her.
It suited me admirably, as l was the
loneliest young vagabond in this big
city. She had about $1,000 all told,
and this she put into bank by my
advice, for James benefit should any
thing happen to her.
Something did happen to her lie
rio r,yer fUo wears agn She died and