The San Francisco call., 1904-12-11

Yes" he answered. "Get her to bed
as soon as you can. Goodnight"
Mrs Mumple was feeling Sibylla's
face. her hands. her ankles. She began
TO unbutton the wet boots hastily.
What have you done TO herr" she
asked in motherly Indignation. Poor
lamb
She pulled off the boots and felt the
damp stockings with low eXclamations
Of horror She was in her element.
fussing over somebody she loved. She
got rough towel and knelt down to
strip of the stockings.
4 can leave her TO you now" said
Grantley, and ne walked out of the
room. closing the door behind him.
IN the stiffness of the house he heard
the little peevish cry again; the COM
plaint in ii was more intense, as
though the child missed old Mrs. Mum
PES care ard feared to be alone.
CTartiey went along the passage and
into the nursery. A night light burned
by the cot. The door of the adjoining
room stood open a few inches, but all
was sdark and quiet IN there. When
Grantley came near the child saw him
and stretched out his little arms to
him in q gesture which seemed TO COM
bine welcome and entreaty. Grantley
shook his head, smiling whinsically.
i wo-der what the little beggar
wants, I'm devilish little use" he nlur-
INJURED. But he lifted little Frank from
the cot, wrapped him in blanket and
carried him to the fireside. II wonder
if ] ought to feed him" he thought.
What's the nurse up to? Oh ! suppose
she's left him 10 old AIumples. Why
didn't she feed him?"
Then st struck him that perhaps
Frank had been fed too much and he
shook his head gravelv over such
4r.~-
lamenting still-mOre gently, but in a
remarkably persevering way. He must
want something" Grantley concluded;
and his eyes fell on a cup which stood
just within the fender. He stopped
down and stuck his finger into it and
found it half full of a warm, thick,
semi-liquid stuff.
Got it," he said in lively triumph,
picking up the cup and holding it to
Franks lips. The child sucked it up.
We'll, he likes it, anyhow; that's
something. / hope it won't kill him."
unused Grantley. as he gently drew the
cup away from the tenacious little in-
gers.
Frank stuck one of the fingers in
his mouth, stopped crying and in an
instant, seemingly, was sound asleep.
Grantley got him into a position that
he guessed would be comfortable and
lay back in the chair, nursing him on
his knees.
In half an hour Mrs. Mumple came in
and found them both sound asleep In
front OF the fire. She darted to them,
and shook Grantley by the shoulder
he opened his eyes with start
My gracious. you might have
dropped him!"
Not a bit of it. Look how he's hold
ing oni" He showed a little hand
clenched tightly round his forefnger.
He could hang like that. believer"
Hang, indeed" muttered Mrs. Mum
pie resentfully. Give him to me, Mr..
Imason."
Oh. 10y all meansl But, by Jove, he
doesn't want to go, you know"
He did not want to go, apparently,
and Grantley was quite triumphant
about It, Mrs. Mumple was merely
cross and grumbled all the time till she
got the little fingers unlaced and
Frank safe in his cot again. Its a
mercy he didn't fail into the fire." she
kept repeating. with a lively and ag-
gressive thankfulness for escape from
d danger excessively remote. But she
made Grantley ashamed of not having
thought of it. At last she spoke of
Sibylla.
She's warm and comfortable and
sleeping now. poor lamb" she said.
It's time we all were," said Grant
ley, making for the door
You won't disturb her, Mr.. Iamson?"
He turned round to her, smiling.
No. he said.
Mrs. Mumple moved her fat shoulders
in helpless shrug. She had made out
nothing about the matter; she was
clear only that Sibylla had somehow
been disgracefully ill-used and that
Frank might very well have fallen into
the fire. OF these two things she was
uRalterably convinced. But she spoke
OF one OF them only; the other was de-
clared in her hostile eyes.
Against his will-perhaps against his
promise-Grantley was drawn to his
wife's bedside. He trod very softly.
The only light In the room came from
the bright fiickering flames of the fire.
They lit up her face and her throat
where he had torn her nightgowu apart.
He felt the white neck very lightly
with his hand. 1t was warm-healthiiv
warm, not feverish. She had taken no
hurt either from storms within or from
storms without She slept deeply now;
she would awake all well on the NOR
row. She would be herself again on
the morrow. He thanked heaven for
that, and then recollected what II
meant. Herself was not the woman
who murmured "Grantleyi" and
dreamed of the gold and the fairy ride.
Herself was the woman who could not
ANe VIII MIN, VINO ndQ 1OrSaken the
child, who had gone to Walter Blake.
To that self she would awake to-mor-
row. Then was 1T not better that she
should never awake? Ought he not TO
be praying heaven for that-praying
that the death which had passed by
him and his son should, in it's mercy
taken her now?
Aye, that was the easiest way-and
from his heart and soul Grantley de-
spised the conclusion. His face set as
it had when he faced her in the dingy
inn and tore her from her lovers ready
arms. His courage rose unbroken from
the ruins of his pride. He would fight
for her and for himself. But how?
There must be a way.
Suddenly she raised herself in the
bed. In an instant he had drawn back
behind the curtains. She neither saw
him nor heard. For a moment she sup
ported herself on her hand, with the
other fiinging back her hair over her
shoulders. Then, with one Of her splen-
did 1.-the easy movements, she was out
of bed and had darted quickly across
TO the door.
Grantl9y watched her, holding his
breath, in a strange terror lest she
should discover him, fearful that in