The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1902-02-22

er's ear that made them both smile in
anticipation of a happy event to occur
IN the early spring. As that time drew
| near both mothers-Mrs Baxter Dara
and Mrs. Dalrymple-felt anxious, ana
| the former started south with a fore
| boding which she strove in vain to ov-
At st. Louis she was intercepted by
a telegram which realized her fears, for
in its cruel terseness it read:
Saville died last night at o'clock
With a trembling soul she continued
her journey and reached her sOn-in-
laws home at an early morning hour.
A black footman opened the door and
| uShered her into the reception room.
! She told him who she was and asked
| to see his master.
Mr.. Dalrymple is Frustrated with
grief, madam, but 1 will send the nurse
at once" he said courteously and with
| drew, to return shortly with a tall,
massive looking woman whose rich
brown skin and southern accent were
| contrast to the ebony features of the
footman, although he was her own son.
| Her great black eyes were soft with
| compassion and she took the weary
travellers arm and said:
on honey, you is all worn out.
Come right up stairs now. Use done
got yo' room all nice an warm fo' YOU"
Tell ne about-ny daughters. did
| the baby live?" entreated Mrs. Dare,
in an agonized voice.
The others face went to an ashen
| gray.
| - yes, INT all rlSnI-DuC never you
min about anything now. Yo' jes' come
| along and res an you will feel bettah
bime by"
1t was a spacious. well appointed
room. luxuriously furnished. to which
the nurse conducted her, and she soon
had off her wraps and was reclining ON
| cough near the fire. Weary and worn
with grief and sleepleSSneSS, she scarce
~ touched the breakfast the pleasant
looking maid so deity served and i'm
patiently greeted the nurses entrance
| by saying: Come and tell me all about
my darling girls death See, I am
| quite strong now, and must hear all
| the details"
To her surprise the poor soul broke
| into a silent fit of weeping. and sobbed
| under her breath in most heartrend-
| ing way. and shook her head, saying al
most in a whisper:
20 missis. 1 cayn't tell you. I always
| said the black and white oughter keep
! apart. o the pore lamb, her life went
| out like the flame from candle, an he
| was so well, too, but I done mistrusted
| she overheard through the door bein'
| left ajar, she must heard some one
! say somethin about the pore little
baby"
| And here the brown woman wept
| afresh. Mrs. Baxter Dare half rose
| from her cushions with paling face.
| But what could she have overheard?
| What's the matter with the baby-is it
| crippled, deformed in any way?" she
gaSped miSerably and sank back again.
mo, no, missis; it's a strong, healthy
! little fellow, only-on1y the doctor he
| thought she had better not see it till she
| got stronger, an jes after them gals
passed her door a-talkin' about it L
came in an she was lookin' wild an l
cayn't never furgit them big blue eyes
| an hair a-shinin' all over her piller,
| an she cried out to ne: % Milly, is
| my baby and then she done stop,
| fur she see her answer in my face, an
| she turned to the wall and died with
out sound. o missis, the black blood
| did iti''
Mrs. Baxter Dare rose to her feet
| with a stony gaze in her eyes. Where
| is that child? / want to see it at once"
| The other looked at her, and. placing
! her hands on her shoulder, gently forced
| her to sit down. wait here. I'll fetcn
| it," she whispered. and left, to return
| dainty fiannels and laces. The grand
| mother rose and stepped forward and
| az Milly threw back the coverings and
| she saw a tiny, jet black face sur
| a low moan and sank senseless at the
| nurses feet.
| Saville Dare had, been beautiful in
| life, but as her still form lay in funeral
/ robes, upon it's pitiless bier, it seemed
| to shed a radiance cold and clear as the
| naked truth that CLEANS from a noun
| tain peak. Eternal SHOWS send chill
| to tire warmly beating human heart,
| but they in their isolated purity are not
| more cutting than the lesson we learn
| through mistaken sentiment AT the
| feet of his bride kne1t the distracted
| husband. and he had no eyes or mem
| DRY for that other one who sat gazing
| on the features of her martyred child,
| and who held a burden in her arms
| which slept peacefully. unconscious
| of woe or sorrow, untroubled and at
| rest although benea tn its tiny head d
| heart broke in wordless grief