Evening star., 1915-04-04

ing to think that you and his father and your
children would hate him as an nterloper |
thought, when he was left alone he would
be forced to tell. But it seems he has not
told
Elizabeth made no reply; but a great
wave OF pity for the boy in his loneliness,
his simplicity, his pride, overwhelmed her.
Mrs. Gray continued in the same quiet
voice:
There is one thing | wish clearly under
stood. Kenneth's lameness does not Come
from neglect on my part, or poverty. was
well Oft, and made up my mind to have the
boy cured if it took everything had in the
world | had the best specialists in London,
and afterward in New York, for him, and
they. all told me the same thing,-he was in
durable from the beginning. 1t was only
when | was in the grip Of poverty that l
could make up my mind to surrender the
boy-for his sake-for his sake!"
AT this Mrs. Gray's stoical self-command
gave way. She covered her face with her
hands. Elizabeth, moved with pity, laid
her hand on her shoulder. The touch of
another womans hand seemed to melt Mrs.
Gray, and she burst into the tears so natural
to women under stress and storm.
"You women who are mothers she cried
brokenly and sobbing, "think that you alone
know the passion of motherhood-for tell
you it is a passion! But we, the childless
women, we are the ones who commit crimes
tor the sake of children. Do you know that
your husband could send me to prison for
what have done? And do you know that
going away and giving up that boy for his
own good nearly cost me my mind? The
thought that l should never see him again
my God! my God! have pity upon mel"
RUT why should you not see him again9"
cried Elizabeth, herself weeping, and
pitying her only as one woman can pity
another. "Why should such an idea come
into your mind? My husband is just man,
and one of the kindest on earth!"
Mrs. Gray caught Elizabeth's arm, and
the two, weeping and crying together felt
kinship. 1t was Mrs. Gray who first spoke
of what the advent of the boy, so close and
yet SO remote, might mean to Elizabeth.
II don't know how you feel about the
boy she said at means strange child in
your flock, who yet is not stranger 1t
means the love of your husband for his first
born,-I tell you, the frstborn is always the
best loved!-and in that love you have no
share. 1t means new chord in what was
before perfect harmony"
do you think, asked Elizabeth proudly,
and drawing herself up. "that am so weak,
so worthless, that can't meet the situation
as should2 Do you suppose that any child,
any or all of my own children, could come
between my husband and me2 No! A thou
sand times no! We-my husband and L
love our children as much as any parents
could; we have made cheerfully the sacri-
fees that all good parents make. But my
husband is first with me, and am first
with my husband always-always frst!'
Elizabeth's eyes were dry and bright and
proud she even smiled in her triumphant
love.
at is not all women who can feel that"
answered Mrs. Gray, NOR all men who are
worthy of it. am going now. know you
will be good to the boy
She turned and went out of the room so
quickly that Elizabeth had no time to ask
her whittier and how she was going.
ELIZABETH went to the open window,
- and saw Mrs. Gray steal out of the house
as noiselessly as she had entered. But at
the same moment Mowbray and his visitor
appeared at the house door, and saw Mrs.
Gray walking away. The lawyer, walking
rapidly, overlook her. and caught her by the
arm; then Mowbray came up. There was
short conversation among them in quiet
tones. Then Mrs. Gray and the lawyer
walked away together toward the railroad
station; while Mowbray returned to the
house. When he entered Eizabeth's room
she had slipped into white silk dressing