Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1917-08-05

tear welled up in my own eye when
turned back to my duty.
Was that why I felt the hand OF
Providence upon me. when in my halt
before the one clock to which any su-
perstitious interest was attached-the
great one at the foot of the stairs
saw that it had stopped at the one min
ute of all minutes in our wretched
the minute in which Frank Postle-
thwaite had gasped his last under the
pressure of his wife's hand! l knew 1t
the exact minute, l mean-because
Providence meant that l should know
1t. There had been clock on the man
telpiece of the hotel room where he and
his brother had died and I had seen her
glance steal toward II at the instant
she withdrew her palm from her hus-
bands lips. The stare OF that dial and
the position of its hands had lived still
in my mind as | believed 1t did in hers
-Four minutes past . How came
our timepiece here to stop at that exact
moment on day when duty was max
ing its last demand upon me to remember
Franks unhappy child? There was no
one to answer: hut as I locked and
looked. ! felt the impulse of the mo-
ment strengthen into purpose to leave
those hands undisturbed in their silent
accusation. she might see. and. moved
by the coincidence, tremble at her
treatment of Helena
Put If this hanpened-if she saw and
trembled-she gave no sign. The works
were started up by some other hand.
and the incident passed. But it
left me with an idea. That clock
that one instant Of time. She was
forced at length to notice it. and re-
member an occasion when she stood
stock still with her eyes on those
hands, and failed to find the banister
with her hand. though she CROPPED for
N
But no command came from her to
remove the worn-out timepiece. and
soon its tricks. and every lesser thing,
were forgotten in the crushing calam-
ity which befell us in the sickness and
death OF little Richard.
'Oh. those days and nights, And oh,
the face of the mother when the doc
tors told her that the case was hope
less, l asked myself then which of all
the emotions l saw pictured trere bit
the deepest. and made the most lasting
impression on her guilty heart? Was
it remorse? If so. she showed no change
in her attitude toTard Helena. uni So
It was an added bitterness. The sweet
looks and gentle ways of Franks young
daughter could not win against hate
sharpened by disappointment. Useless
for me to hope for It. AS l realized
this, / grew desperate and resorted
again to the old trick of STOPPING the
clock at the fatal hour. This time her
guilty heart responded. She ackno"'l-
edged the stab and let all her miseries
appear. But how? In a way to wiring
my heart almost to madness. ard not
benefit the child at all. She had her
first stroke that night. had made her
a helpless invalid.
THAT was eight years ago. and since
then what? Stagnation. She lived with
her memories. and ! with mine. Helena
only had right to hope. and hope
perhaps she did. till-is that the great
clock talking? Listen. They all talk.
but | heed only the one. What does it
say? Tell. Tell. Tell, Does it think l
will be silent now when I come to my
own guilt? That I will seek to hide
my weakness when I could not hide
her sin?
II pitied my dear madam more than
1 pitied Helena. 1t was that which
affected me and drew me into crime
against my will. Besides, 1 did not
know-not at frst-what was in the