The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1902-08-07
Bound for Halifax.
BY NJ. CoRBET-SEYMoUR.


her face had no fear in it, no longing
to grasp at life as it slipped away from
her. She was AZ years of age, and
she had known very little happiness.
Nor had that little come anywhere near
the realization of her childish dreams.
On tae whole, when she knew that ner
time was nearly UP, she felt glad
The only regret was that she could DO
no more to help others, and that some
few might miss her as friend-untll
they found one in her place.
The end was very near, when re-
markablc thing happened. A slow.
fumbling foctstep ascending the stairs
was followed by the appearance OF
stranger in the doorway who, in
hoarse tone, and glancing at the nurse
in charge, said,-
81 want Mrs. Edward Harding"
His hair was long and as white as
snow: so was his beard. His eyes
were big and hollow and they had a
harshness which made the nurse
shrink back when they fixed her with
stare. 81 want Mrs. Edward Hard
ing" said the unknown, for the second
time; but without moving step for
ward from the door, which a startled
maid servant had thrown upon for
him.
"She Is here" responded the nurse.
The old man turned to the bed, and
his voice began to quaver as he spoke.
Mrs. Edward" he said, and his
hand shook as he laid it on the coun-
terpane, ''it's me-the man you saved
from lot of misery! Me, Charles
Brown, that swore he'd come back to
prove he was grateful. Oh, you poor
thing!" he added with low sob, as
light was given him to understand
that this was a dying woman, have
. come just too late for you to know
me? To be glad I've kept my word?
Can't you speak to me? Can't you
give me just look out of those eyes
that never turned away when l was
in the very worst of my trouble?"
But not a word cane; not even
glimmer of recognition fitted across
that still, calm face. Then the white
haired man sank down on MS knees
by the bed.
She's dead. or next thing to it," he
moaned, "and I'm too late! It's just
my wretched luck. And I've come SO
far and knew she'd be glad, and now
nothing matters" He tore open
packet he had carried in bis hand and
little bundle of bank notes fell Jlt
upon the counterpart. Il was so
pleased to bring them back" murmured
the man, ''to show her kept my word!
And now l don't care for anything"
With which remark he quietly
tainted, there, where he knelt, on the
floor.
The brothers of the dying woman
he recovered consciousness. But he.
told them nothing, answered nothing
that they asked, and with a dazed look
upon his face gathered the bank notes
together and replaced them in mis-
breast pocket. Then, with a glance at
the lifeless form of the woman who in
some unreveaIed trouble had proba-
bly, befriended him, he went away.
He was seen at the funeral, walking
behind the mourners. Then he finally
disappeared, and the little incident
was soon forgotten by the very few
who had known anything about it.
L was one of those few; the why and
because of that fact has nothing to do
with the present story.
A week or two later took the train
from London to Liverpool, and on
looking round the compartment at my
fellow travellers, recognized the old
man with white hair and beard. who
spoke of himself as Charles Brown"
when Mrs. Edward Harding was dy-
ing.
His eyes were fixed upon the window
by which he had taken his seat, but l
am certain that he saw nothing-un-
less, indeed. he had some mental vi
sion Of his own past OF his future.
After a while We two had the car
riage to ourselves, except for one ell
derly lady whose capacity for sleeping
soundly through railway journey was
nothing less than astounding. I took
a vacant place nearer to him, and for
the sake of getting into conversation,
asked where he was bound for.
Bound for Halifax" answered the
old man, quietly, and then added, for
Canada, you know"
"a fine country, and full Of possi-
bilities,' / said. Il have sometimes
thought I should like to emigrate."
| do not think he was listening: he
had fixed his eyes again upon the out
side world as soon as he had answered
me. After an interval l made another
attempt, asking if ne had ever before
crossed the Atlantic.
"Yes-five years ago." he said. And
came back few weeks since to find
7he only true friend I ever possessed
But I came tco late"
Another silence and then as If
moved by some strong and irresistible
impulse, the strange old man made me
acquainted with his life story.
= Told briefly, it was this: He had
been a small farmer, like his father
before him. in one of the southern
counties of England. For years all
went fairly we'll; he married, had chill
dren. and vas contented with his lot.
Suddenly, and from no explainable
cause, run of misfortune set in for
Charles Brown. Crops failed, times
were bad, his wife and the two chill
dren died within week of each other
by an infectious fever, and at the years
end ne found himself heavily in debt
and on the road to ruin.
Then, like many another unhappy
creature, he tried the consolation Of
drink, which. as a matter of course, led
him from bad to worse. Finally he re-
solved that to make away with his life
was all that remained to be done.
NJ oh h. I,,> n Il,