The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1905-12-27

SSPS
Lovingly and tenderly he put his arm
about my waist, and together we as
cended the stairs to the nursery.
1t seemed like the first happy days of
our marriage, and I ingoluutarity ez-
claimed:
ROBERT, will this happiness last?"
"Heayen grant it; darling wife" said
he, as he kissed me fondly, and then
bent down to turn back the light COW
erlet Of little Maud's cradle.
The room was in semi-darkness, and,
as I turned up the gas, Robert gave a
wild and lightning-like glance around
the room and into nurses lap, then he
turned as pale as a ghost.
"Baby is not here"
None can tell the bitterness Of that
hoIr but those who have lost a beloved
child iii the came way. The coffin, and
the shyoud and the putting away of
the little form beneath the sod is moth.
ing eSmhared with it. Rose, we knew,
had apdueted odr child, but where had
sic gomez AHnWstrue were: her words,
fI take yout happiness with me"
The nurse had been drugged, and
when she recovered her consciousness
she grieved sorely for her lost charge.
1t is useless to tell of\the months
and years spent I'm seekingNa clew to
the whereabouts ofRose Burton, of the
money expended and the food Of tears
shed to- the memory Of our first blue
eyed darling. Seven years passed, and
the year of the Worlds Fair in Chicago
'dawned. Robert and myself, in the
month of June of that year, took a
trip to the metropolis of the West,
staying three days. On u arrival we
registered our anne at the Sherman
House. The second day Of our stay
a note was sent up to our room written
in a weak, trembling female hand. 1t
ran thus:
Dear Cousin Clara-I saw the notice
of your arrival in the paper. Come to
me yourself. Don't let Robert come
this time. I think I am dying.
"ROSE BURTON"
On the wings of love, pity and ex-
pectation, I fairly flew to the place
designated.
I found Rose in q poor, little room.
apparently dying of consumption. She
was sitting in IN armchair when L en-
tered, and extended both her hands to-
ward HE, while the tears course1 down
her cheeks. My heart beat so that it
was with trembling T asked the ALTO
me-important question:
Where is my child%
"What do you mean, Clara?"
"Where is the baby you stole from
U.s." I cried, ":the night you left our
house, seven years ago"
"As I hope for mercy, Clara, I am
innocent of such a crime as that. I
have wronged you, deeply wronged
you; for Z loved your husband even
before you married him-loved him and
tried not to quench the unhallowed
hame-but I never took your child"
Truth shone in her dying eyes, and 7
believed her; but my heart had now a
new sorrow. Where, oh, where was
my poor, golden-haired Maud, the child
that had ever held the first place in
my soul next to Robert, albeit other
little olive branches clustered around
our table?
Poor Rose was convuised with cough
ing, and, after the fit was over, she took
my hand, burying her head deep in
the pillow at the back of her chair,
for she had a story to tell.
81 have been thinking" she said, in
her hollow voice, what I saw from my
chamber window: the day I left your
house. + think I can give you a clews
to your child"
As she said this some sound attracted
her attention, and she glanced toward
a side door, a look of terror coming
into her eyes.
At this moment a beautiful littA
girl rushed into the room, and, going
up to the poor, dying woman, threF
her arms around her neck, eXclaimins:
II could nott stay in the bedroom,
mamma, as you told me, for I heard
you cough so terribly I thought YOU
must want your medicine, and"
I knew my child in a moment. The
face was a perfect counterpart Of Rob-
ert's.
I drew the little form up to me in
an agony of delight. The 'scalding
tears that had been penned up so long
welled forth I forgave Rose, every
thing in that supreme moment She
had sinned, terribly sinned, but so had
the. thief on the cross, and had he not
been found worthy Of parable?
This last shock soon brought poor
Rose to her end. Before she died she
confessed to being accessory to the
abduction, or, rather, the PRIZE mover,
assisted by a low fellow in the neigh
borhood.
THE reason for my last falsehood,"
she said, in a weak voice, was that I
loved the child so I could not bear to
think she would ever knoSg what a
wicked woman she had called mother,
for 1 taught her to call meathat. I
should have sent her to an aunt Of
mine in North Dakota before q died,
but God saw fit to bring everything
out in the clear light of His uutff&
Rose died truly r~epentant. RobTt
and 1 took home our first born, and the
rejoicing in our household was only
equalled by that Of the Shepherd whot
found the lamb that had strayed from
the ninety and New York
NITnoI1y