Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1918-10-11

al Know That She Was My Mother"
"What is the first thing you remen-
ber?"
81 see a woman lying in bed in a
strange room. Her face is whittier than
any face / have known; man sits be-
side her, with his head in his hand,
and, though death has no meaning for
me, am afraid, for know that she
was my mother
'Was this in Cuba, EleanorY
II don't know, but think SO, Uncle
Mark, because 1 remember running to
the window and seeing a great palm
tree outside, with spreading branches.
And there are other cities, and we
seem to go from place to place, always
watching for somebody, and yet, as it
we're, hiding from people. / know we
avoid people, but it is an instinct only
that tells me so.
"And again I am with my father in
the jungle. l don't know how we got
there, but / see the trees all around
me, and am afraid We walk on and
on, and sometimes he carries me, and
we sleep under the trees and are
drenched with rain. I am so tired and
thirsty. But we go on and on, and
when we stop we find little hut, and
I am afraid no longer"
"And thenY' asked Mark in agita-
ton.
II remember nothing. / suppose the
bullet that killed my father must have
struck him while he was in the hut,
! but 1 have no picture in my mind at
ALL"
Mark mumbled something to con-
! ceal his agitation. "And do you re-
member me coming and picking you
up?" he asked.
She shook her head regretfully. 81
don't remember anything else," she
answered. Nothing until that dinner
in the majors house."
She linked her arm through his and
| looked at him earnestly. ''Uncle
Mark, it makes me unhappy some
times to think that I have no memory,
no clear memory of my parents. I am
sure that some day all this mystery
will be cleared up. Don't you hope
SOP?
eyes," answered Mark, miserably.
He had always wondered what the
| child would be like Towards half
yearly letters had always assumed too
much for granted. Mark had practi-
cally relinquished Eleanor to the Ma
jor, and he had never learned anything
about her that he had really wanted to
know. He had not imagined the pre-
cocious, high-strung, idealistic girl
whom he now saw. He knew that the
disclosure of her fathers dishonor, If
ever 1t came about, would shock her
into a revulsion of feeling that would
be fatal to the true development Of
/ her character.
He had often wished that he had not
pressed that idea of the regimental
mascot upon the major. 1t had been
born in a mind attuned to the victory
of that bloody day; in normal mo-
ments he would never have enter
tanned it. Yet Major Howard had
been more impressed than he had adj
mitted to Mark. The idea had
spread through the minds of the other
officers. There was never q GuaS1 din
ner but Eleanor was Solemnly toasted,
though she was not permitted to be
present, and somehow the child had
| become symbol in the minds of these
plain men in business and professional
life who spent two weeks in camp
each year.
| After the war Mark had gone to the
regulars; but he was still in touch
with the officers of the Seventieth, and
he knew that, if ever war came, he
could obtain an appointment to it.
II am sure that my father will prove
to have been q brave soldier" said
Eleanor, clasping her hands eagerly.
think that there must have been
great mystery about him."
"Why?" demanded Mark, startled.
ssBecause of the man who watches
for me-
| "Watches for you? It is magma
4 ton, Eleanor"
She shook her head. "Ive seen him
three or four times" answered the
girl. .'He waits at places that we pass
when we go out together. And he
watches me then, though he never at
1 tempts to speak to me-"
'sAnd you've told Miss Harper?"
mo, Uncle. Mark. She would think
I was hysterical," answered the girl.
shrewdly.
Mark could see that, but he was
certain that it was hy5teria, that the
! idea had come to the child as the re-