The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1913-11-08

"Ao enouSuI indyDe OuCic EpuralM
had mellowed. 80 I went to him, be.
cause ! thought couldn't get alone
without love-" She shook her head
with pathetic little smile. 'But !
could! Uncle Ephraim didn't mellow
he dried up. He blamed me for beine
born--I think, myself, 1t was a mis-.
take. He turned me out. but was
so tough just couldn't be winter,
killed. After that went back to the
show and stocked up in experience
mention 1t to point out that a mild
job like being your private secretary
wouldn't strain q muscle"
Gregory's voice cut across hers. my
secretary must be In sympathy with
my work. TO exercise such talents as
/ have. is my religion, and I need q
helper whose eyes are fixed upon the
higher life. This is final, and the sub.
ject must never be reopened. And
1t very painful"
Fran's discovery that he had not
heard her plea, crimsoned her face.
She Jumped from the armchair,
breathing rapidly. "Then," she cried,
II you won't have me, get another.
The one you have must co."
She shall do nothing Of the sort"
he coldly responded.
"Yes." Fran retorted violently, 81
tell you she must go!"
He struck the table with his palm.
"Never!"
shall I use my last resource %
Fran's eyes cleaned ominously.
The hand upon the table became q
fist. That was his only reply.
II would entreat you," said Fran,
faltering. "and with tears-but what
good would 1t do? None. There's no
use for one woman to weep IL another
woman is smiling. Dismiss your sec
retary."
He leaned toward her from over the
table. and spoke in q low, level tone:
II am going to appeal to your better
nature. Think Of the girls of the
street who need rescue, and the wom-
en- Of the cities who are dying from
neglect and vice. II you hinder my
work, let the souls of these outcasts
be upon your soul! You can ruin me,
but not without running my good
works. don't ask you to keep silent
on my account-.what am l but an In.
strument in the hands Of Providence? =?
but for the sake of the homeless
thousands. have atoned for my past,
but the world, always ready to cruelty
the divine, would rejoice to roir. the
Anger OF scorn at me, as II I sre still
the fool OF twenty years ago."
"bot your secretary"
"She 's a vital factor In my work.
1t would be impossible to replace her"
Fran made step toward him-"My
mother was replaced"
He started up. "You shall not speak
OF that. She lived her life, and /
demand the right to live mine. I tell
you. the past Is ended"
But ! am here" returned Fran.
Y have not ended. Cant you look
into my face and see my mother liv-
ing? She paid for her secret mar.
riage, wandering over the face of the
earth with her baby, trying to find
you. don't deny that you've paid for
all-yes, even for your desertion and
your living hidden life In this town.
Maybe you've suffered enough. But
that isn't the question. Look at me.
am here. i have come as truly out
OF your past az out of the past of my
darling. uncomplaining-what did you
call her?--'friend.' And being here I
ask. What will you do with mer All
! want is-just q little love-"
The long loneliness Of her life found
expression In the eager voice, In the
yearning eyes. As he stared at her
half-stupefed. he imagined she was
holding out her arms to him In plead.
Ing.
Fran thought his covered face a to-
ken OF weakening. You must have
loved my mother once. Ia IL ell so
dead and forgotten that there Is none
left for your child?"
But she was seeking to play upon
strings that had long since ceased to
vibrate. He could not bring back,
even In retrospect. the emotions in
spired by Josephine Derry. Those