The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1913-03-01

1
canny silence in the room which he
did not dare disturb. Something had
gone wrong with the lights, too, for
all had gone out except tiny globe
in one corner, which burned with a
strange sputtering sound that seemed
to keep time with the beating of his
heart. And all this sacrifice was vain,
for he was selling his soul-selling his
right to PREPARATION for five hundred
dollars. He must stop the operation
and make a new bargain. He found
his voice at last and shouted, but the
light was roaring like a dynamo and
the sound drowned his cries. He
wrenched his arm away and
How are you feeling?" asked the
nurse
He opened his eyes. He was back
In his bed and the daylight was
streaming in through the open window
near his head. He looked at her, as
tonished, uncertain.
"You tainted" she explained. "Peo-
pie generally do. But you'll be all
right in q little while It's only ten
minutes since they brought you back !"
"Rut the operation?
"Perfectly successful"
"I didn't-do anything? Didn't /
shout or strugg1e?'
Hartridge was silent for awhile.
Nurse he said presently, "do you
do you think she would see me be-
fore she goes?,'
"Why?" asked the nurse bluntly.
That's never allowed, Mr.. Hartridge.
She wasn't allowed to see you on the
table-they threw blanket over you.
II you'll think little you'll under.
stand that that's the only thing pos.
sible''
"But if she wanted To-" he falt.
cred.
well. OF course, in that case sup
pose she could. But why do you want
to see her?'' -
Because" said Hartridge slowly,
II want to thank her for doing some
thing that she never dreamed Of
She looks on me, no doubt, as you all
do-as convenience, as poor man
who has sold something which he pos
sessed for money. There can be NO
thought of obligations on either side,
of course. Bit I'm not going to take
the money. I'm a jail-bird. I've just
come out Of the penitentiary where
served O years sentence for forgery.
She has given me back my se1f-re-
spect. I feel that I've done some
good in the world at last can't very
well explain it, but I want to thank
her Won't you tell her at least?"
The nurse was looking at him very
strangely. Eyes, I'll tell her. he
heard her say, and he resigned him.
self to the feeling of intense weari-
ness that was creeping over him.
Two days passed. Hartridge made
no further reference to the fulfilment
of his request. He did tell DR.. Briggs
that he would not accept the money
There's a gentleman coming to see
you this morning" the nurse an
nounced triunphantly that day.
"a gentleman" repeated Hartridga
with a puzzled frown. SCI don't know
anyone. 1t must be mistake. What
ie his manner"
But the nurse would not tell Hart.
however, the ward doors were thrown
open to the stream of visitors who
came to see the patients. Hartrfdge,
who had been DOING, heard his name
spoken and looked up. A man with
very well remembered features was
standing by his bed.
"Mr Hartridge-my dear fellow"
he began, somewhat nervous1y.
'Mr. Cumming" gasped the man in
the bed and bowed his head miser.
ably.
The bank president sat down be.
side him and placed one hand on his
shoulder.
II want to tell you," he said, shat
DR.. Briggs has spoken with me about
you and made clear some things that
| did not understand last year. II
had realized your circumstances !
might have been less harsh in exact.
ing justice. None Of us can afford to
exact that to the uttermost. They
tell me you have refused compensas
ton for your brave. sacrifice. Hart
ridge we are starting a branch bank
at Clifton. want you to go there as
assistant cashier. Nobody will know
of your past That is all atoned for.
You will go with our complete conf.
dence-and at a salary adequate to
support yourself and your wife com.
fortably'
.My wife?" said Hartridge bitterly.
Perhaps you don't know that
Here's somebody come to see you
and thank you for your-for her life"
said the nurse, coming up softly. Hart.
ridge glanced up. A woman came
swiftly toward his bed and sank down
beside him. She flung her arms round
his neck and drew down his head to
her breast and her tears, falling on
him, washed his soul clean at last
from all its bitter memories.
Copyright. 1915 by w. G. Chapman.4