The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-11-21
r II E C ALL
Little Elizabeth was puzzled.

anu 1TdCtuESU SkullS, llClU0uJdI 10 q
family and its cares, spreading them
across the lap of that mother of com.
passions, her ''mummie," things
righted themselves, sometimes mirac.
| uleusiy:
At any rate they received attention
But now!
Twice already she had displayed cir.
cumstantial evidence Of a horrible
accident streaming with sawdust, in,
volvi1g complete loss Of one eye, to-
gether with inealculable internal in
juries, pointing out the urgency of
first aid. And mother had said
E"Yes, darling merely, and brushed
away the dreadful stream.
Eyes, darling" was all very well,
but what did it amount to in face
Of facts? Once, when she should have
been staunching the wounds, mother
had taken Elizabeth's face in her
hands and stared into her eyes
! tGreat, soft Spanish-looking eyes had
Elizabeth, not like her mothers, which
were blue.) Then she had bestowed
/
apparent reason.
Mummie was behaving very oddly
tonight.
Accumulation of grief-and saw.
| dust, the strange aloofness of the
| mother of sorrows, the unaccountable
postponement of the days natural
ending-the iron of these things en-
tering into her soul preyed upon Eliza.
beth. The delicious rosebud mouth
quivered. Tears filled the velvet eyes.
Whereupon swift remorse overlook
the neglected. parent as she gathered
the baby into her arms. tsa
what? So very sleepy, precious
Can't keep lovely eyes open a mo,
ment longer? Whatever is mummie
thinking about?
Just what Elizabeth was wondering!
Grief, however, lost its ultimate bit.
terness in the arms of refuge and in
sleep it's mercifnl oblivion, even of a
family and it's cares, -. ).
1t was a. picture pathetic in its in
noeent beauty. thes mother looked
down upon as she fingered by the cot.
Long curving lashes lay on biscuit
coloured cheeks. flushed in healthy
slumber, dark brown silky hair curled
about the baby's round forehead. One
plump arm tightly pressed the wound
ed lamb of the flock, still wearing
its uncomfortable one.eyed smile of
CLASSY brightness.
The onlooker smiled. ~involuntarily.
It was so funny and so beautiful.
Then a veritable storm of remorsefuI
memory shook Elizabeth's mother.
If Elizabeth should one day do. as
she had done? II Elizabeth should
grow up and -. :? No, no,
no! 1t was a thousand times unthink-
able. .l
But it had not been unthinkable,
or undoable, in her own case. She
had done what she prayed God to
keep for ever. Elizabeth from doing
:. She had deserted the
heart that loved. her; deserted and
betrayed the parent, who trusted her.
What right had she to expect to keep
unbroken the love Of this passionate
ly-loved child2 az $50. se-s,~
Downstairs, the .stuffy little sitting
room to which she returned was dark
and silent. AS she stood by the open
window, she could almost her the sill
ence. At long intervals, the hoarse
baying of some chained farm-dog
struck into the. silence a note of gall
ing captivity, a note only toe familiar
to the experience of Elizabeth Norton.
In the patch of garden in front of
the cottage, red roses glowed in the
dimness, spots of colour and sweet
ness inseparably woven into the fabric
of the June twilight. So the roses
had shone, dinly and deeply, in that
other garden, that other night. /.
Presently, the miserable bayings
ceased. The whole world seemed held
in an unbreakaBle silence Lights
began TO twinkle out, one by one, in
the village windows, little lamps of
home and happiness, or, perchance,
marking the places from which hope
and happiness had long departed. Be
yond the village, not many miles away,
lay Millsnere, her girlhood's happy
home. The roses would be in full
bloom in the rose garden. The breath
of the cottage roses reached her where
she stood, unbearably sweet, poig-
nantly reminiscent. -.
Suddenly, bending her head, she ap-
peared TO listen intently.
ooh, Philip!"
She returned as the door opened,
and almost ran towards the man who
entered, holding out her hands, :. !.
H.
"What is it, Philip? + heard
.e. someone call.
Philip Norton Iaughed-not plea
sanity.
81 neEen called, my sweet Betty.
But had /. known beforehand the
particularly cheerful reception which
awaited me-. / might have thought it
wise precaution. I've walked TWEEN
ty miles or so and am hungry.
Where's supper 2,
His wife passed her hand across
her eyes, brushing away a vision.
She gagged to a. nicely her
husband's mental condition. He was
very slightly intoxicated, Just sufi-
GENTLY to be yiciunsly. and. cruelty,
iiEtemperea. -
How could I know you were com
ing back tonight, Philip? You never
H&&SSs A-Al