The Birmingham age-herald., 1909-08-15


 come a mother, Charlotte fled through the darkness to the city. In her extremity of woe she determined to appeal to La Rue and finally found the brilliantly lighted mansion where Mrs. Crayton was enter taining a select party. She had written lettel of pitiful appeal and this she sent up by servant. Charlotte was drenched with the raiu which had begun to fall. Her spirit and her hopes were gone. her life itself it seemed to her was hanging upon the necessity of food and shelter. .
 ''whatl exclaimed La Rue. ''I do not know her; am much engaged in works of charity, but I cannot relieve every begger than comes to my door Drive her away, John. But stay, tell her to come some other time. really do delight in works of charity, but one must have some time to ones self" John went down with , the message to poor Charlotte. Not know me- the poor girl exclaimed, mot know me7" Johns heart was touched at the distressed state of Charlotte. He was a funkey, but he was man. Come with me-" he said. He took Charlotte to the hut upon the outskirts of the city where he lived with his wife and many children. The next morning Charlotte was a mother
 Mrs. Beauchamp had returned to New York and had visited the cottage that very night. Charlotte was not there. Two days after, as the good lady was cidentally came across Charlotte Tn her arms and surrounded by the lux uries which Mrs. Beauchamp afforded her. Charlotte died. Her offspring, . girl whom she begged might be named Lucy, after her mother, survived. Mrs. Beauchamp took upon herself the ex- penses of Charlotte's sickness and of her burial. She also told the mother that she would see that Lucy was car- ried back to England.
 Montraville had returned from his expedition. He was strolling up Broad way when he saw a funeral procession enter the graveyard of Trinity church. Who is dead7" he asked. Poor Char lotte Temple" some bystander an- swered. "the woman whom Montraville seduced." Her fate was by that time the common talk of the town. Wildly rushing in, Montraville knelt by the side of the open grave and wept in transport of remorse. eLooking up he saw the sinister face of Belcour. But another man of more calm and dfgnihed visage was there also-the chief mourner at the funeral. It was Nil. Temple. He had received the letter which had been forwarded by Mrs. Beauchamp and had at once hastened to America. But he had come too late. Charlotte was in the throes of death. She had only time to say, Father, for give" before her spirit went into the unknown country from which there is no returning.
 Who are you,' said Temple, who intrudes upon the obsequies of my un- fortunate child?" T." exclaimed the in- truder, "am Montraville. He tore his shirt and cried: Strike me, strike ts the heart, the blow will be just one Sternly Temple turned from him and the bystanders took the half frantic man to his home. But as he was torn away he caught sight of Belcour. The villainy of years which Belcour had practiced rushed upon him in an in. stant a
 People told him. for there were gossips in New York even in those days, of the part Belcour had played. Montraville challenged his tempter and killed him; his sword point entered that false heart.
 MT. Temple took Charlottes daughter back to the vine-covered cottage in Eng QC lotte's parents delighted themselves in giving to her all the love and affection which they had formerly bestowed upon their own child.
 Montraville had long and dangerous fit of illness, but partly by the natural strength of his own constitution and part ly by the loving and assiduous care of Julia, who now knew and forgave all, he lived But ever after he was subject to fits of melancholia-the weight of poor Charlotte's fate was never quite removed from him.
 Ten years after the distressing scene of the burial of Charlotte Temple in Trinity churchyard Mr. Temple was walking along one of the London streets with his granddaughter on his arm It was even- ing, and on the steps of a church they saw poor. shivering wretch whose rags scarcely sufficed to cover her. She was begging for a few pennies. ssOh, MT. Tem- ple.' exclaimed the beggar when she saw who the man was who dropped the coin into her outstretched hand, do you not know me? I am the cause of all your woes; l am La Rue" She had been cast off by her husband after many flag rant escapades. She had sunk lower and lower, and now. youth, health and beauty gone, she craved the charity she had re- fused to Charlotte. Sternly MT. Temple looked at her. But his heart was touched. and for the short remnant Of her life La Rue was taken care of by his charity.
 Next weeks one-Page Classic will bs 'The Man Without Country" by Ed ward Everett Hale. 8I
 The First Bird He Shot.
 From Tit-Bfts.