The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1903-02-28
eyes, underneath us, in the cellar.
II sounds like a rumblinp"

|
up from the floor and began to
scream nervously. perhaps we're
going to have an earthquake. We
had one out in" She ran to the
cellar door, making great deal of
noise as she went, and flung it wide.
rs there anyone there?" she called.
| Come and listen for yourself, Mrs.
yourself The rumbling had ceased.
81 certainly heard noise,'' said L.
'Well, you ought to know your
own cellar. You will make me
afraid to sleep if you say such
things
LET us go down and see,'' | sug-
gested.
She hesitated, and then said:
| "Well, if You wish, but it's very
draughty. O-o-o-h! I'm shivering
already"
Now, 1 had the beginning of cold,
caught suddenly, 1 feared, in the old
church, and for that reason l hest
tated also to go down into that
| gloomy vault. 1 did, however, push
myself a little way down, and then,
as if / had seen them for the first
time, ''Why! what is this?" said L,
and 1 reached out my hand and took
from the wall the suit of mems
clothes.
At this my boarder seated herself
upon the top step, put her hands
over her face, and burst into tears.
They're Jim's," she said. 'They're
Jim's."
Don't, my dear. don't. Do not
agitate yourself so terribly
She shook all over her spare form.
Her voice came muffled from between
her fingers. There was no doubt
about her grief being serious. ut
seems as if l were suspected and
bounded every step l take. I'm sure
have only good intentions. | have
no wish to do anything wrong, but,
dear Mrs. Brathwaite. just remem-
Der that [ have had no mother. You
know what that means to girl-no
mother! Poor jim! 1t might not
have happened if she had not died
and left us. Jim's clothes are all
that l have left of him, and l kept
them. l could not bear to give them
away. 1 have heard of women being
blamed for not giving away their
baby's clothes, after they died, to
poor people. l feel as if Jim had
been my baby, my dead baby. jim!
dear, dear Jim!" Her tears were
very honest tears.
1 came to the top step and gath
cred the girl in my arms. There!
don't cry" said 1. Don't cry"
stop, dear lady, said she, brush
ing away her tears hurriedly, Il
must hang up poor Jim's clothes
again. l didn't think you'd mind. I
hung them there to keep them free
from MOTHS" l wanted to take her
in my arms and say Little Amar-
anthe, little Amaranthe." She looked
so thin and helpless and woe
begone. She hung the clothes upon
their nail with many a sigh and
heave of the breast. Her sor-
row was so real that my heart ached
for her. l went back into the room,
and in moment she joined me.
How good you are to me,'' she said.
My own eyes were trimming as I
put my hands on her shoulders and
looked into hers. and 1 said it:
Little Amaranthe! little Amaran-
the!"
What do you mean?" said she sud-
denly, the color flushing her cheeks.
She stared at me like one seeing an
apparition.
"Ah, little Amaranthe, you don't
remember me. You don't remember
Wildly, who used to teach you when
you were little tot"
She put her hand to her head.
Say that again. said she.
"Wibby, Wibby, who used to teach
YOU"
Let me think" said she. LET me
think. | seem to see-oh! was it a
great white house? Was there a ri
otously lovely garden? Did we do
lessons out under a tree? Was there
great dog, and a COW that L used
to fondle? Were there two ladies
there. and little one, who always
came with the books"
Yes, yes" whispered I, as nv
tears streamed fast. ut was like
that. What you say is proof enough
for me. l am sophronia Willoughby
who used to teach you, my dearest
little girl"
80 you are Wibby?" said She. SIS
it wonder that l did not know YOU?
How you have changed?"
YES" said 1, with sigh. 81 have
indeed changed. How could 1 help
it in 16 years? Do you remember
your aunts?
eyes," said she. 'srhey were my
aunts, were they not, those two
ladies'? Then there was mother and
an uncle. Was his name
David" said 1. Don't you re-
member your Uncle David, David
Darlington?"
"Was it David?" she asked. "Was
it my Uncle David? / knew that my
name was Darlington. 1t was the
name we had in Madras After
father died l had to do something.
Father died very poor