Crying for the Light Volume Iii Part 5

'Only twice. When I saw him outside your theater and tried to speak to him. But he pushed me into the street, and then I met with my accident.

He's a hard un and a bad un.'

'And when again?'

'Not very long ago; when they had the election at Sloville. I was there and he too, but he would not look at me. Oh, he was harder than ever!'

'Speak not of him now-he's dead.'

'Dead! Oh, dear!' said the woman. 'Do you mean to say he's really dead?'

'Yes,' said the actress, 'he died only a few days since.'

'And I am dying-oh, dear! What a wicked woman I've been! What mischief I've done!'

'What do you mean?'

'Why, I meant to restore the boy.'

'It is too late-the boy has no father now. Is this truth you tell me?

It is a strange story.'

'The truth, so help me G.o.d.'

Then she sank back utterly overcome. At length she said:

'I've not long to live, have I?'

'I fear not.'

'You'll see me buried decent?'

'Yes, I will.'

'And you'll be kind to the boy and see that he has his rights?'

'If I can.'

'That makes me feel better.'

'I am glad of that.'

'You are kind.'

'How can I be otherwise? You're but a woman, and I am no more.'

'They're all kind here,' said the woman, sobbing.

'It is because they love G.o.d.'

'Ah, so the parson says. Sir Watkin used to tell me the parson told lies.'

'And you believed him?'

'Yes-I don't now.'

'G.o.d is our Father, and He loves us all.'

'What, me?'

'Yes, you.'

'What, me, with all my wickedness?'

'Yes, you and I, with all our guilt and sin. His heart pants with tenderness for all. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that he should turn to Him and live. He sent Jesus Christ, His Son, to save us.'

'Do you believe that?'

'Yes, with all my heart. I should be wretched indeed if I did not.

Daily my prayer is, "G.o.d be merciful to me, a sinner.'"

'Ah, I like to hear you talk. I've not heerd such talk since I was a gal, and then I did not believe it. But it does me good now.'

'Yes, but I must not talk any longer, or you will be excited and get worse. Try and have a little sleep, and I will go home and pray for you.'

'Thanks, miss,' said the woman gratefully; 'you'll come and see me to-morrow?'

'Yes, I will,' said Rose, as she turned to go home.

But that to-morrow never came. At midnight the summons came, and all that was left of 'our Sally' was a silent form of clay.

Some of us go out of the world one way and some another.

Happy they who can exclaim, with Cicero, 'O preclarum diem,' or with Paul, 'I know in whom I have believed;' or with Job, 'Though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see G.o.d.'

Unhappy those who with dim eye, as it restlessly sweeps the horizon of the future, can see no beacon to a haven of light, no pole-star pointing to a land of eternal rest-

'No G.o.d, no heaven, no earth in the void world- The wide, gray, lawless, deep, unpeopled world.'

Rose rushed home as rapidly as the cab she hired could carry her.

Wentworth was in.

'What am I to do?' she said, as she told him the whole story.

'Better send for the boy,' he said.

'Oh no, not yet. He is comfortable where he is, learning to be a sailor.

He's fond of the sea, and it will be a pity to take him from it.'