Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-06-21

grace to the humble | who speak to you
should know that
There was a curious proud humility in
his words that gave something almost Of
fensive to their tone He said no more.
Jack Remington, with a strange sinking of
the heart. stod for moment or two at the
foot of the great carved bed. looking at
the shrunken face that lay yellow against
the snow of the pillow.
what do you mean, uncle he asked
at last
But David Rimington's eyes did not UNI
close. He appeared TO have fallen asleep.
Jack would have liked to have put
some question to Mrs Remington as to the
meaning of his uncle's strange words but
she had never appeared so unapproacha BILE
for the most part. during the dinner that
was served with a solemn state in the
beautiful paneled dining room whose win
dows looked on to the garden and the
stretch Of the river. she was silent Her
few words were entirely of the past-of
season she had spent as girl in vienna
of the gay light wickedness of the city,
that even now had left its glamor of fas-
cinated horror over her mind
Strange Vision.
After dinner when she went to her
husband S, room, Remington made his es-
cape. He felt like prisoner released as
he sauntered through the dewy garden
and out on to the path by the river
The night was very quiet. Although
it was nearly 8 o'clock, 1t was twilight
still-a shimmering, gray light, star-pow
dered, hung over the river that reflected
1t like a winding ribbon of glass From
the ascending woods on the bank beyond
there came al intervals the faint cheep-
cheep of a night bird. and, save for that
sound, the world seemed given UP to him
self alone He stood still. looking down
at the slow moving water, held fast in
the grip of so gray q misery that he
turned from. the contemplation of the
river with a sort of shrinking horror
AS he turned he saw the Hutter Of
white dress along the tootpath at some
distance ahead of him. Perhaps it was
the association Of Ideas; he had so often
seen the futter Of Bettys dress among
the trees at this very spot and followed
II as signal. But he seemed now to
know beyond doubt that this moving fig
ure was Betty. She walked swiftly and
yet uncertainty, pausine now and again
hestatlngly, as though she sought for
something by the water, for some thing or
soma place.
Ut a moment Huntington nedFt StllleQ.
What did she seek? His mind was quick
to leap to the first morbid suggestion
He dreaded some rash act contemplated
and, hurrying, gained on her. AS he
reached her he saw her stoop down. kneel
by the shelving bank of the river. and
plunge her hands and something they held
into the gray water.
For couple of seconds Remington stood
motionless watching Betty as she
crouched there by the edge of the water
The girl was absorbed in herself and her
action; it was obvious that she did not so
much as thing of an observer. He could
see her in profile very distinctly, although
the gray light and the shifting shadows
gave a certain unreality, look of mys-
terry. to the slim, white clad figure; he
could see the expression of her face the
new look that had come to her with this
llness-a bewdered look like that of
child who has strayed into a new, mex
picable world
What was she doing? Just for a mo-
ment he wondered if he had happened
on some action of f-revelation, and
even as he wondered the girl rose up from
her half-crouching position, and he saw
the thing she held. Only a dripping hand
kerchief with which she feverishly rubbed
her hands, uttering a little moaning cry
as she did so, 1t was thing too bitter
to be borne in silence, thatcry He made
a step forward.
Betty" he said.
She started at the sound of his voice
and turned quickly. He saw that her
face lit up at the sight of hm-not with
the love-hght he had learned lately how
to surprise in her eyes. but naive, child
ish pleasure.
why jack" she cried Then, as
though she remembered her dripping
hands and some secret connected with
the sodden handkerchief they held, fur
tive look crept over her face like cloud.
What are you doing out here at this
time, you bad boy" she demanded It's
ever so late, isn't it? l say!" she paused
and looked at him with the mimicry of
chdishness that, if it had not been so
infinitely pathetic, would have been gro
tesque You won't tell Edith you met
me here, will you? She's grown tire
some ately-dreadfully mollycoddling.
A Suspicion.
1t was all so unreal that for a moment
a suspicion that the girl was playing a
part gripped Rimington 1t was gone in
a moment, leaving behind a sting of
shame that he could ever have enter
tanned it,
NO, l won't split on a pal. But what
are yoN up tor he said coaxingly. Then,
as she shook her head with frightened
look, he added, careessly: Its awfully
jolly out here in this light, isn't it? The
river is like a mirror. | say, | guess what
YOU were doing Betty Looking al your
self in the water, like that silly Individual
who fell in love with his own reflection
what's his name"
He paused on the question Betty gave
a childs frank laugh
Fell in love with his reflection what
a frightfu idiot! | wasn't doing any
thing so silly-you will never guess what
was doing" Her voice sank and she
crept nearer to him. Washing my
hands; they're so horribly stained and |
cant get them clean however hard |
try. | can't! / can't" The childish pet
ulanee in her voice deepened to a note of
tragedy She looked down at her hands