The Opelousas courier., 1905-09-16

tss!!.sias!i
but I shah't ever forget this touching
his arm.
Il am SO glad / could help you," she
said; gently.
well, you're the first one" he said.
a little bitterly.
AS said, this was ten years before,
and, though the years had brought
many changes, the ameliorating in1u-
ences had been Jew in the life Of Fred
,Wildbtirih The drunken father and
Invalid mother had both died, leaving
Fred quite alone in the miserable,
shabby old house where lie lived. He
had not improved with the years; on
the contrary, he had grown more fecis
less ana disordefly, until people said
he was utterly and totally depraved;
without one good Impulse in his heart.
One thing had happened during these
ten years. Bessie Brandon had mar.
ried Henry Upton; but 10 one ever
knew of tue terrible night which Fred
Wildburn passed when he heard of II.
Nobody W should know what q
miserable fool he had BEEN" he said.
fiercely.
He need not have feared his sscrrssll
was safe-for no one ever was wild
enough to suspect him of feeling or
sentiment, particularly where the
petted %daughte: of Squire Brandon was
concerned.
Henry Upton was an honored and
highly respected citizen. Tie wab i'll:
telligent, educated and wealthy. and
IL he looked down from his sublime
height Of T1,rrue and attainment a little
sontemptuously upon poor, miserable
Fred Wildburn, 1t was certainly no
more than his neighbors did. And If,
By any possibility. there had been my
little triekery or unfalrness lii the set.
tlef1ent Of that legacy, he could easily
excuse himself Upon the plea that 1t
wau'd only be a curse to Wiidburii if
he had it, leading him into ieel,er d.
hatchery. whereas he could use it
wisely, and for the benefit of morality
and religion. The fac. that Wildburn
did not see Il Iii just that light was
only another proof of his innate de-
pravity, people said, piously:
Upton had il mill Some four miles
from MILESTONE, by the main road, but
scarcely. three by a cut across country.
1t was little more than d bride path,
though Upton sometimes drove Though
with his light drag. He started with it
one wild, chilly December morning,
promising his wife to return early If
i. came OH to snow, a. ii promised to.
1t was piercingly cold, and the wind
blew ih fierce, ftful gusts all tie fore
noon. Just after noon it began snow
ing not rs Install, in fine, light parti-
cles, but with a wild, tempeBtuous
force that carried nil before 1t. Long
before night the Streets were block
aded, and The wind roared and shrieked
up and down them like d niadmaf.
Bessie Upfoh paced the floor of her
PETTY sitting room, more excited and
nervous thar she had ever been in her
life before: She had, naturally, d cool,
quiet temperament.
atf only lie had not started,'i she said,
~anxiously; sif he saw the fierceness of
the storm lii Season ID stop at tie mill.
instead Of attempting to brave it!''
The hight came down early; but the
mill owner came not, and his wife,
though still anxious, had settled down
to the belief that he would not come
till morning.
Suddenly a loud neigh, falling be-
tween the pauses of the tempest, struck
her ear.
"fIenry has come nowr' she ex-
claimed: and. catching up d lamp, she
hurried to the side door.
Only n painting, terrified horse, the
broken harness dangling from his
foamy sides, met her appalled, vision.
For a moment she sank, dizzy and
faint, III a chair. She was alone; her
one servant, having gone away for the
day, had been prevented from return
ing BY the storm.
= .
Fred Wildburn vas sitting over a
smoldering fire. inwardly cursing the
storm that kept him in. 1t was not d
pleasant home-there was that excuse
for him. The walls were dingy. with
smoke, the floor was bare and dirty,
the chairs and tables were broken and
dilapidated.
"How the wind blows! This is the
third time"
He paused suddenly, for, framed in
the door, the wind and snow whirling
madly about her slight figure, stood
Bessie Upton.
.Great Heaven, Bcssie!" he e~jaculat-
ed. and then stood gazing at her in
amazement, while she closed
the door, and came and stood before
him.
Frederick" she said, in her sweet,
firm voice, Henry is out somewhere
in this storm. The horse has come
home alone. lie he came the forest
road, he can never find his way home,
and he could not live till morning in
this storm. There is nobody I dare ask
but you to go to him. 1t is a great deal
to ash, / know; but | think / know
your heart betterthan anyone else
does and I shall trust to pour courage