The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-03-30
Cbe rove Chat neper Dies
"The
Marsh" n
AL Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER I.

n. CHAPTER I. |
busting, busy, ever-moving London!
with its stir and it's hum, it's crowds
and its perpetual hurry and with It's
heavy November pail Of black, chok-
Ing fog spreading out gigantic gr1my
fingers over miles and miles Of drab
and dirty houses.
It stunned poor Beatrice Froyle. It
made her reel and blink, coming upon
her 80 suddenly after sea voyage
from the Bermudas, where life flowed
more TRANQUILITY. and where the whole
atmosphere was different.
and form, 80 timid and shrinking of
manner, that but for the black widows
dress and bonnet she wore she might
have passed for a. lass of eighteen,
instead Of a woman Of twenty-five,
who had already known deepest sor-
COW.
For even grief carves no ugly lines
IN face as young as hers; and the
slight sharpening of the outline which
her cheeks had undergone had but
given her features an added delicacy,
while in place of the light-hearted
sparkle Of careless girlhood, her large
brown eyes had a yelled and softened
expression far more touching, far
more lovely.
She came out of the Hotel Sails
bury, leading by the hand a tiny,
fragile-looking girl Of about two years
enhanced the curious anavstrikins eff
feet of her lint-White hair and very
light blue eyes, and Of her fair baby
complexion. There was something SO
distinguished in the appearance both
Of mother and child, that the omni-
bus in which they took their places
and started westward seemed an in
appropriately humble conveyance.
One would have expected them to step
into well appointed brougham or
into smart Victoria, rather than into
the democratic vehicle where subur-
ban aristocrats and city clerks take
their seats beside the laborer and the
laundress.
The little one was quiet and rather
sleepy, and her mother cuddled her
Ing tenderness that had something al
most Of tragedy In it, as If some cloud,
some danger hung over her darling.
And as she looked down at the sleepy
face of the child. the tears came sud-
denly to her own eyes, and 1T was only
by a strong effort that she kept them
back and retained the statuesque
: |composure which was the mask with
(which she covered the sore heart
within.
n Before the omnibus reached
lKnightsbridge the child was fast
asleep, and the mother tried to get
out without waking her. But this
proving an impossibility, she kissed
the mite as the blue eyes opened, and
|said: Come, Ermyn, we've got to get
out here. Wake up, my pussy, wake
up!'
"a BY this time the fog and the twi-
Hight had descended upon London to-
And it was by the glimmer Of the
Istreet lamps that mother and child
made their way to one OF the highly
Respectable, dingy little back streets
IN this neighborhood, where pride and
poverty, both Of select and exclusive
Iorder, combine the advantages of q
Esgood" neighborhood with the disad-
lvantages Of narrow passages, .pokey
rooms and almost perpetual darkness
LIT was at one of the dingiest OF
these superior dwellings that Beatrice
lFsroyle knocked and rang, and was
and statrcases to of the smallest
If and gloomiest of drawing-rooms
where an air Of faded greatness, Of
ghostly elegance and forgotten dis.
tneton seemed to steep the early Vic
ask curtains, the heavy gilt clock and
towering candelabra, and the wool
work shields which hung from the
Ifnantelpiece on each side Of the fire.
less CRATE. H..
line 1nlQu16-dSSu uld1QS0IVduL WIZ
showed the visitors up, lit the gas an6
I5eft them; and the child, frightened
\ 10y the gloom of the room, chung t.
her mother and showed signs Of whim.
tpering.
S"Don't cry, darling, mammie's with
YOU Whispered the young mother as
she caressed the little mite and sooth
B ed her gently; there's nothing to- CRY
about. You're going to see a new
Iauntie, poor papa's auntie, and yours
S. loo; and she'll be very kind. I'm sure
4 * There was, Notwithstanding those
Measuring words, a trernor in Mrs
tF'royle's voice which rather belied hel
words. She felt by no means so sure
Indeed. she pretended, that her late
hisband's aunt would receive then
Nell. And. In fact, this meeting will
1.-The first of her dead husbands rela,
xtens. awfao ON she had never seen, fllef
the young widow with perturbation.
~ q few moments the door opened
ind little dry, middle-aged, prin
lady very plainly dressed, and will
the fingers of her left hand twisted
Rightly in the coils Of long chair
which she wore round her neck, en-
lfered the room. Beatrice Froyle rose
with the child still cltnging to he
:skirts, and began in a rather CULVER
Ing voice, while her hostess looked a
her without speaking:
81 Miss Froyle ?'' (The elder lad,
bowed. her s 3. head tt1. slightly "You go go
Her hostess made q stiff little init
NATION that she was to take an arm
1chair which she pointed out, In TIL
si<ht Light and then sitting dow
y y