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

John God resisteth the proud and giveth
grace to the humble, l who speak to you
should know that"
There was curious proud humility in
his words that gave something almost Of
fensive to their tone He said no more.
Jack Remington, with strange sinking of
the heart, stod for a moment or two at the
foot of the great carved bed. looking ar
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. Rimington as to the
meaning Of his uncle's strange words but
she had never appeared so unapproachable
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 a
season she had spent as a 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.
A Strange Vision.
After dinner, when she went to her
>
capes He felt like a 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 9 o'clock, it was twilight
stll-a shimmering. gray light, star pow
dered, hung over the river that reflected
it like a winding ribbon of glass From
the ascending woods on the bank beyond
there came at 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 a misery that he
turned from the contemplation of the
river with sort of shrinking horror,
AS he turned he saw the futter of a
white dress along the footpath at some
distance ahead Of him. Perhaps it was
the association of ideas; he had so often
seen the flutter of Betty's dress among
the trees at this very spot and followed
it as signal. But he seemed now to
know beyond doubt that this moving fig
ure was Betty. She walked swiftly and
yet uncertainty pauslng now and again
hesitatingIy, as though she sought for
something by the water, for some thing or
some place.
For q moment Rimington's heart stilled
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, kneef
by the shelving bank of the river, and
plunge her hands and something they held
into the gray water.
For couple of seconds Rimington stood
nfi mot fro Daft cha
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
illness-a bewildered look like that of a
child who has strayed into new, mex
plicable world.
What was She doing? Just for a mo-
ment he wondered if he had happened
on some action of self-revelation, and
even as he wondered the girl rose up from
her half-crouching position. and he saw
the thing she held. Only dripping hand
Izerchief with which she feverishly rubbed
as she did so 1t was a thing too bitter
to be borne in silence. that cry. 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 ef him-not with
the love-light he had learned lately how
to surprise in her eyes, but a 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 a cloud
what are you doing out here at this
time you bad boy?" she demanded. ITS
ever so late isn't it? l say" she paused
and looked at him with the minicry OF
childishness that, if it had not been so
tesque You won't tell Edith you met
me here. win you? She's grown so tire
some lately-dreadfully mollycoddling.
A Suspicion.
1t was all so unreal that for moment
a suspicion that the girl was playing a
part gripped Rimington. It was gone in
a moment, leaving behind a sting of
shame that he could ever have enter
tanned it.
NO, | won't split on a pal But what
are you up to-" he said eoaxingly. Then.
as she shook her head with a frightened
look, he added. carelessly: IT'S awfuy
jolly cut here in this light. isn't it? The
river is like a. mirror. say, guess what
you were doing, Betty Looking at your
self in the water like that silly individual
who fell in love with his own reflection
what's his Nance"
He paused on the question Betty gave
a child's frank laugh,
Fell in love with his reflection what
a frightful IDIOT ! wasn't doing any
thing 50 silly-you viii never guess what
was doing Her voice sank and she
crept nearer to him. Washing my
hands; they're so horribly stained, and l
cant get them clean. however hard
try. I CAN'T l. can't" The childish pet
ulance in her voice deepehed to a note OF
tragedy. She looked down at her hands
and began again that feverish rubbing
with the sodden handkerchief she held
Rimngton slipped his arm around her