Year: 1873

1


Squire, whom she had crossed ehel


tuqlly in a plan Of marriage, cause


her to pack her few Valuables abou
! herself take up her child and 4,
from him into the dark cold nighl
with the snow lying thickly on thI
ground. She had gone on snd on
In a condition Of half dream, will
only sense enough to cover her boz
from the cold; she felt how the chill
air was benumbing her, how the
snow clogged her footsteps, and q
last knew nothing more till she found
herself at the forester's house. From
the wrath Of the deceiver to the
wrath of the deceived.


Beatrice threw herself on the 10cr
in an agony Of grief. As she lay
thus, the servant Anna came n.


MADAM" she said, 'your child is
not well. Will you come to himp


In an instant all her senses re-
turned, and she followed to the ad-
joining room. The boy lay in his
little bed, his face red with fever,
moaning as though In pain, and
when he saw his mother, it was but
very weak smile that played round
face.


"My child, my childT cried Bea-
trice, falling on her knees beside the
cot; "you must not be III, now, not
just now, We cannot stay here, We
must go. Do you think it is serious
Anna"


"I'm afraid he's sickening for
some child's illness ma'am," was the
reply, "at any rate you cannot move
as he is; you must wait and see what
it turns to-"


@But can stay in this house no
longer" she cried; 81 must, I must
CO."


"The Herr Forester would never
turn you out while he could offer
you roof. You do not know him
madam; you do not know how good
he is. 1 viii go to him and tell him
the child is ii, and be viii, I am
sure, press you to remain" and be-
fore Beatrice could prevent her, the
girl was gone.


While Beatrice was fighting with
herself, holding her child in her arms
meanwhile, the door opened and q
hrm step passed along the floor.
She did not need to raise her head.
Sue knew who stood there.


Beatrice" be sald, and his voice
was softer than it had been that
morning, Beatrice, you must stay
here; you must not imperl your
child's life. I shall not come into
your way more than before; had you
not sought me, you would never
have known under whose roof you
had been all this while; nor should
have known" be went on, his voice
failing him somewhat, "Rhom I had
sheltered"


For sOme seconds there was a 81
lenee in the room, then: aHaye
you any belongins," he suddenly
asked, "whO Will be anxious at your
long absence2 I will send q mes.
senger if you will tell me where and
to whom"


1t had cost him much to ask this
question.


'None."


He felt strangely relieved By the
answer; why, he did not know. aAre
you q WidowF'


81 was never g wife"


He said no more, but stood Sor
some time silently before her. His
usually frm-set mouth worked omi-
nously and some tempest was brew.
ing in his inner man; but he beat il
down, and said, after some time OF
silence: ''See that the child wants
no comforts. The doctor will, I
hope, be here tomorrow; it is dim-
cult to get one to come, We are 90
far out Of the world. IWish the boy
a good recovery. FAREWELL" he
turned to leave the room.


"PaulP she cried; sPaulP' and
she stretched out her hands implor-
ingly after him. She understood
that he meant this to be a farewell
forever; be did not visa to see her
again; and yet she felt through It all
that he loved her still. She could
not bear to see him depart thus.


"Hushr he said, turning round,
with his hand upon the lock
Of the door; "you will excite your
child" With that he opened it and
vanished.


A fearful time followed thisl The
child lay for weeks Ill with scarlet
fever, combating between life and
death. Beatrice never left his bed.
side; neither she nor the doctor
dared venture q hope for his recoT-
cry.


As for Panl, he went about his
daily work steadily and sternly Is
usual but there was q greater
thoughtfulness about his mouth, and
a deeper sadness about his eye, and
his people dared approach him less
than ever. For inWardly q fierce
battle was raging. He loved Beat
rice still, blindly, deVotedlY; the
sight Of her had reused him from
his life in death. He had learned
that she was free, could still be his,
and yet he hesitated. All would be
forgive and forget but could be for
get with the child daily under his
eyes? Perhaps he would die in this

fevei; and that was his one hope and
wild desire that the child might die.
He inquired constantly after It's vel
fare, and if be heard is gas worse,
a fierce pleasure WOald shoot through
bis heart.


At length, one day, when he was
returning from his work, he met
Beatrice in the little wood behind
the house. Her face had become
thin and drawn down with care, her
eyes were sunk and red with weep.
ing, her whole aspect piteous. The
nurse had sent her into the air, de-
claring that if she did not 60 out
she, too, would be i'll, and then what
would become of the boy2 She
moved along the walks like q sad
spirit, and when she saw the tall
figure approaching from the oppo-
site side, she started and turned
paler.


@HOw is the boyP' asked Paul,
coming up to her.