The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1906-07-26

In brief chapter heads she recount
ed her story, too, and that of half a
dozen others whose names appeared
in the book. He kept turning over
the leaves and calling them out.
What a host of them!" he COM
mented. Surely you don't act as
banker for them all?"
"Ah, no. I could not have afforded,
unhappily. Some are dead; some are
doing so well as not to need further
help; some I have lost sight Of"
He closed the book and handed it
to her. For while he was strangely
silent. His cigar went out and
dropped from his fingers on to the
deck.
And Mrs. Forshaw?" he asked, at
last. Mrs. Albert Forshaw-who was
she?"
"A pitiful case, Gilbert, most pitt
full. Her husband had deserted her,
and she had been trying to exist on
fifty cents week. Think of it, MIL
lionaire, fifty cents week! A wo-
man of some gentility at some time.
too, 1 fancy
"sne belongs to those who are
dead, suppose?"
Indeed, no; I hope not. 1t was
only two months ago that knew OF
her"
His eyes sought the woman by his
side. She was intent upon her needle
work, beautiful, young, radiant, hap
py-a woman as good as gold!"-
how much better than his gold?
What must l do for her sake"
he thought.
New York is great, rambling
place. but to Gilbert Rhode Jeans it
was Sitting. At times he contem-
plated a sudden flight, on the pre-
tense of urgent business. She was
so happy among the whirl of visits
and receptions, and he could not leave
her side. No; he must wait and meet
the blow. He felt it was inevitable;
but. fascinated, he could not retreat.
He listened to his wife's chat as
she sat in her boudoir, always think
ing what a shock it would be when
the blow came.
And one day it came-though it
was not exactly the kind of blow ne
had expected.
There was a prelude to its delivery.
It happened in his Wife's Doudolr,
when Mrs. Albert Forshaw, now a
successful dressmaker, came to visit
her old patroness.
She fell on ner knees and kissed
her hand. big earnest tears in her
eyes.
Her benefactress raised her gently.
Could this be the wreck Of woman
she had seen lying in the garret!
Il read about your marriage. How
I hope you will always be happy"
"Ah,'I am happy; I shall always be
happy. l have the dearest husband
in the world"
She laughed gayly in the fullness
of her Joy, then checked herself re-
membering the tragedy of the others
life.
Forgive me for parading my hap
mess. Your fate was so different.
Have you ever heard anything of-of
him?".
NO; nothing" Her eyes cleaned.
"But if,I did! All, I have dreamed
such revenges!"
She turned aside, hatred, fierce
and relentless, imprinted on her face.
And as she turned, there was Albert
Forshaw, her husband, looking
straight at her. It was his portrait
on the mantel shelf, and it bore the
autograph, Gilbert Rhode Jeans"
So the great millionaire was Albert
Forshaw, a scamp, and a bigamlst.
What a revenge was here!
But-yes, there was a but. There
was the woman as we'll as the man
the woman who stood near to her,
the woman, through whom she was
alive today, through whom she was
we'll nourished and warmly clothed.
through whom she lived no longer IN
a filthy street.
That scene in the garret! She saw
it all again, and heard that gentle
voice saying, How easily might tate
have ordained that you should be IN
nv place and I in yours; then you
would have helped me, wouldn't you"
There are moments in life wnen
we seem to go through ages OF tor
ment. Here was this woman, goaded
one way by the cry of revenge, urged
the other by the soft voice OF graft
tude.
It was the next morning that the
blow fell upon him-not the sna'te''
ing blow he had anticipated nut =
blow that left wound that would noS
heal.
It came in long letter. "Your goid
is dross," she concluded; but SEE
is gold, true gold, and shall not oe
furnished. Though have broken my
cot, n Re reyenged, I shall take Il