Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1903-07-22

locked my dOorl sitting liStlesS. far
into the morning
CHAPTER VI.
No one can imagine how dreadful.
~ 1 felt at the turn that matters
had taken. If this girl was really
the little Amaranthe of my young
ladyhood, and 1 could not doubt that
she was, it seemed terrible thing
to have found her associated with
strange men who could come into
her windows at night But. after all,
was / certain that any strange man
had come into the window at night?,
thought of asking Mr.. Beldon to
help me, and set him as watch upon
her. The fact of the existence of
that plug which Elder Wynne had
cut in some way out of the floor
of my upper back did not escape my
mind. That, of course, was to keep
a watch upon Mr.. Beldon, but 1
thought that Elder Wynne, or Bob
Jennings, rather, had overreached
himself
l made up my mind that when I
went downstairs in the morning I
would speak very plainly to my
boarder. I waited until nine o'clock,
and then / went across the hall and
stood at the door of the lower-front
chamber. L waited a moment, hest.
tated, bent my head and listened.
L thought 1 heard some movement
within, and gave a gentle tap at the
panel. There was no answer. 1
tapped again. Still silence!
I turned the knob gently, and
thought, as / did so, "What if. she
has gone away as she threatened?"
Ny heart gave a great throb at this,
for [ could not bear the idea of hav-
ing her leave me. There was some
thing about her which drew me to-
wards her, and was she not, after all,
little Amaranthe? No matter what
she had done, or seemed to have
done, she was still little Amaranthe,
the daughter of Eugene Darlington,
my old friend, and the niece of the
dear ladies at the Hall.
l pushed open the door. The room
was dark, the blinds closed, the green
shades drawn closely. There was
sickening odor in the room, at which
my heart sank way, way down.
What if she were dead? What if my
attitude towards her had been too Sc
we're? What if she, poor, lonely, un-
protected creature, had taken her
life, here, under my roof, where, in
stead of suspicion and injustice, she
should of all places have found Sc
clusio1, confidence and the kindest
of care? We send missionaries to
the heathen; shall. we not minister
to our own?
CROPPED my way cautiously in,
and now, with the streak of light
from the open door, began to see
more clearly. 1 looked, fearful of
looking, towards the bed. No, she
had not left me. Her slight body
was there. Was her spirit there
also? She was pale and still;
white cloth lay across her eyes and
brow. My dress made a slight
rustling sound. How glad I was to-
hear her voice say, weak though it
waS:-
what is it?''
The odors in the room were nau-
raised the sash, and let some of Gods
mild summer breeze and shining sun
into the room. She cried out at this
and clasped her hands over her eyes.
ooh! OH" she said. 81 cannot
bear it," / wondered what it was
she could not bear, whether the sun
shine or her thoughts.
What is it?'' 1 cried. "What have
you taken? What is this dreadful
odor? Are you i'll? Amaranthe! lit
tie Amaranthe! are you ill?" She
YEARLY dragged the cloth from her
forehead, and opened her eyes stu
pidly.
What was it, she muttered, 'that
they gave me-those-those-men?
1t made me stupid, sleepy. The room
is full of it. Ah!''-she snuffed at the
fresh, sweet air-'how good!"