Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-07-29
TO-DAY s INSTALLMENT.

,&ousht, she had her hours Of bravery
and her hours Of grlef-strlcken cowardice
This morning had seemed one Of the
latter. This morning she had broken down
BADLY Ednh had written 10 her-the
FIRST news she had Of her since the death
Of little Phil. letter written IN mo-
rnent Of Madness letter accusing her
self Of preposterous things Poor, broken
hearted Edith. who for the second time
had fed from her husbands house, fed in
self preservation. as Mrs Mariowe. the
housekeeper. had limited to Betty when
the girl had gone up to Princes Gate the
day after the chlds death
What was the awful curse under which
they lay. Edith and herself the girl won
dered for moment, duly The tragedy
Of ner lover condemned, innocent man as
he was. TO die for another's sin had
dwarfed all her grief only this morning
she had been vouchsafed glimpse into
that awful world Of pain and fear IN
which Faith harrington had lived during
those long weeks
And now the end OF everything had
come Tony knew the truth. Tony had
repudiated her-cast awful insults at her
IN the presence Of her dead child and the
doctors
"A madman. Miss Betty-that's what
the master ia in these DAYS" Mrs. Mar
lowe had whispered. telling Betty the
story. and Betty, as she had read Edith
ineoherent letter that bore a London post
mark. but gave no clew TO her where
sbouts had thought that madness was
not very far from his distracted wife
az was / who betrayed your lover TO
the police, B9tty-to save myself II Is
on my head that his blood Will be. For.
awe me- Betty, II ever you can was
mad with fear
Betty had broken down badly over that
letter-badly Now she seemed past srief
as she stood by the window words re-
ueating themselves meaninglesslN and
maddeningly. as detached phrases WIN
in such moments the haunting words OF
Keats ghostly ballad. tho the
sedge is withered from tho lake and no
birds sing.
Desolate and dreary to q degree his
outlook on the ruined garden. tho scat
tering yeliowed leaves, the dashed roses
that would yet Hnger tin the frosts came.
the leaden stretch OF the river Desolate
and haunting the words Of the poet re
heated themselves In her brain And
this IS why | soiourn here alone -
tho the sedge is witbered from the lake
and no birds sing Nor ever would for
her. Betty told herself For her there
would be no return OF the time Of the
singing hirds-no sprngtime OF hope
would bloom afresh for her-but always
In her heart would be the time of VIM
ter-black desolate winter
The drawing room door opened and a
maid came into the room
At the sound of her entrance Betty
turned hastily from the window and took
up a book, pretending to read while the
servant moved deity about the room with
the noiseless movements Of the highly
trained, drawing the long curtains and
shutting out the sight OF the weeping
skies. lighting the candles in the silver
sconce on the pencied walls. There was
no electric light in the Croft drawing
room-the long room paneled in dark wood
which dated back TO those days when
II had been farm house set about by
riverside meadows. inaccessible in times
OF food dating back to day when
houses were built by men with love and
care. and beautihed by them that they
might leave a goody heritage FOR their
children. not run up at cut throat risks
by some Jerry builder Spectator.
"sir George has come home miss" The
maid said as she set ont the tea table.
He asked me to say That he would be
down directly
When the servant left the room Betty
took her seat 10y the tea table but she
made no effort to pour herself ont tea,
though she knew her fathers coming
might be long delayed She leaned back
in her chair looking az the fire that
was very grateful on this afternoon of
chill October The light of wax candles
and the blaze of The eaplng fire shed
soft radiance across The room investing
with added charm the rare old furni-
ture the soft tones Of faded rosebud
chintz the low tea table with its gilt
iering burden of china and silver drawn
near the fire and The graceful hstless
figure of 'he girl who sat beside IT,
But Betty Lumsden. sitting there saw
nothing OF beauty on charm. the eyes Of
her imagination were hxed on a prison
cell where a man and his watchers wait
ed for death her own body was cold with
the actual physical cold that was chilling
the blood of the man she loved in his
desolate prison Her ears were deaf TO
the soft hiss and crachle OF the logs en-
the hearth another sound echoed there.
drowning an others--thc Creak OF the car
penters saw. the thud OF the hammer the
stealthy. subdued noises of the men who
built a scatfold
What what Not begun tea yet"
SIR George hustled into the room. bang
ing the door behind him bringing with
him as he usually did, an atmosphere
Of discord and unrest lie started for
ward toward the table by the FIRE and
al once broke into a torrent of abuse
Betty chastened.
Pom MY word the hot cakes not even
set within sight Of the FIRE Is that Your
fault or that girls She's next door to a
foo-snd you're not much better. What's
the meaning OF it2 What's the meaning
II -RnnnA &nunyg