Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1920-10-23
Chapter XXVIT


go away" continued Miss Hal
i deman, II told Betty he had
gone. He had not yet done So
but was SO fearful of the effect his
absence might nave on my sister
that I insisted on telling her before
it seemed best. Betty lay perfect
ly still for several minutes. Then
she looked up at me, a strange ex-
preston In her pansy eyes.
Will is in love with you, isn't
he, Jean?" she said.
81 was awfully startled. For a
minute I thought she had regained
her senses and had just used the
wrong name.
Eyes, it's Ben. honey I said. You
remember Ben, don't you?' But at
that she shook her head impatiently
and my heart sank under a new load
of dread.
NO, it, is my husband I am talk
ing about she said. But he does not
love me any more. He loves you,
I know it from the way he looks
hands,
Try as I would, I could not seem
to reach her with another word.
That night Ben came to say good
by to me and I told him what Betty
had said. 1 knew exactly what I was
doing and what effect it would have
that Ben would detect the weaken
ing on my part and that l would no
was my evil hour-and [ disregard
ed everything-even my sister.
was frantically in love with Ben.
All that, feeling that I have been
choking back so long came to head
that night. knew what would hap
pen and wanted 1t to be 50, no mat
ter who else suffered.
Ben flatly, refused to go, as I
knew he would. I shall stay right
here and marry you. We will have
Betty think I have gone, but will
not, go until you go with me- ne
said. His self-contro1 had deserted
him, too, and I was unable to put
aside his pleadings.
It grew late. 1 had already put
little frankie to bed and settled
Betty for the night. She had seemed
which. 1 slept in Betty's room, for
| could not get night nurse.
| had to economic where I could.
We'll, it was past time for Ben to
go ana I tried to make him say
awakened to the folly of my &C
tions by that time, but it was too
| late. Ben swore that he would not
| leave the house until I had promised
| to become his wife at the earliest
possible moment.
| 1C1L L was OII IIlG verge OIL max
ing the promise-his lips were on
mine as he urged it-and yet knew
that to do so would break that other
| promise which I had made to my
| mother on the day she died. No
matter how the matter turned out,
event. if in the end it should prove
| for Betty's best interests, I knew
| was now on the point of thrust
| ing her aside for the man loved.
And so, in utter desperation, I
finally suggested my last recourse:
| it. After my mothers death I had
lost all faith in God and that sort
of thing. But that night I was so
desperate that l was ready to beg
help anywhere at all. Ben had the
broad simplicity of faith which such
men seem to have, when they believe
at all, and what I suggested did not
| appear to surprise him. So; in a
stammering whisper 1 asked God to
us strong enough to do it.
when / was about to lift my
head Ben placed his hand on it and
| held me down gently. Then, he, too,
prayed. God, if it can possibly come
| to pass, let Jean be my wife, he
said. Make her love me as I love
her and let her live to hold my child
| in her arms-let her feel its little
fingers on her neck-,.its lips at her
choked, and he could not say more.
Neither could I. When I finally
looked up his eyes were fixed on
| mine, and he held out his arms.
They closed around me.
THAT appeal seemed to have
changed everything. 1 knew. I had