The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1908-10-07

no more sign of waking than the
half opening of his. eyes that saw
not, the perfect inward vision of the
soul having for the time being re-
placed the uncertain feeble outlook
of the body.
The regular beat of the machinery
would affect her mind, shaping itself
into rhythmic measure which pres
emily took words to itself and be-
came a silent song-"When the day
breaks" it said; when the day
breaks, and the shadows flee" but
nothing else.
Over and over again her mind in
voluntarily repeated it, at first find
ing rest and relaxation in the me-
chanical formula, and then being
wearied by it because it was mechanl-
cal, then banishing it for an instant
by an effort of will, but glad to have
it back again when it returned of its
own accord, replacing painful
thoughts with a monotony which was
soothing once more in comparison.
and then benumbing, the cause of
more moments of blissful uncon-
seriousness.
when the day breaks and the
shadows flee away; when the day
breaks, and the shadows fee"
It was with her still, and seemed
to rouse her, as the train glided into
the London terminus at 2 o'clock IN
the morning, and they found them
selves at their journeys end at last.
But a few minutes suficed after
that for Lord Wartlebury to see her
and her luggage safely into a cab.
God bless you, my dear child"
the old gentleman said, as he shook
hands with her; land may you.f find
matters much better than you have
dared to hope when you arrive. There
is a card with my address. I shall
be anxious to hear from you, and
shall wait in London until I find that
I can be of no more use"
Then all of a sudden she was over
come by his great goodness. She
could not speak to thank him, but
she did q better thing. She Srasped
his withered hand in both of hers and
kissed it fervently, and the deed was
more eloquent than any word.
AS the cab drove off, Lord Wartle-
bury stood in the damp, chill morn
ing air, an indistinct figure in the
murky fog-bedimmed gaslight, look
ing after it, and sighed.
And he sighed, not because he was
weary, but because, with all his
wealth and greatness, he did not find
it possible to do a good deed every
day and reap the reward of it.
AS she ratified away in the cab,
Gertrude Somers found herself enter
ing upon a new phase of emotion. So
far she had felt keenly, but she had
scarcely thought at all, or anticipated
anything that might yet happen, or
speculated about what had occurred
already, except to the extent neces-
sary to form the few practical meas
ures she had adopted, and to carry
them out. Now, however, her mind
suddenly awoke.
She began to think and wonder,
and particularly to notice every OBJ
iect she saw, as if any II OF them
might unexpectedly prove of use to
her by furthering her search.
She had never seen the streets OIL
London at such an hour before, and
now she was struck by the strange
ness of their appearance, even the
most familiar having lost character
and identity by reason OF the I'M
wonted solitude and silence which
reigned supreme.
Here and there she passed a police
man, here and there a mall ana
woman standing close together IN
drunken, degraded intimacy: once
the light from a cab lamp hashed
for a moment on the figure OF a
young girl, covering in the deep shad-
ow of a doorway, in the attitude OF
q GREATNESS, hunted creature wait
ing it's doom in helpless terror. Ger
trude saw the face distinctly; 1t
haunted her afterward for many a
day. and even at the time, with such
q weight of anxious doubt and dread
depressing her, she was forced TO
acknowledge that what she felt her.
self was nothing as to the misery,
that she saw.
10 be Continued.