That Little Girl of Miss Eliza's Part 19

So Miss Eliza lost Beth after all. I think not. We can never really lose those we love and those who love us. They are always ours.

She slipped away, leaving the mother and daughter together. She could not face the people in the drawing-room. She slipped into the open corridor, where the palms hid her from view and the lights were low.

Here she stood leaning against the heavy columns which supported the ceiling.

"She was glad-so glad for Beth," she told herself. She repeated it mechanically as though she would force herself to believe that she really was glad.

"I'm glad-for Beth. I'm glad for Beth that she has a real mother." It was her lips only which said it. How could she go back to the lonely house? How could she sit down to her meals alone? How could she live without her little girl?

She tried bravely to keep back the tears, but they gathered in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She choked back a sob. She could not reenter the room and face the people. She would go home alone. Alone-she could not do that. She would hang to that pillar all night rather than that.

She could not, she would not go home alone.

"You are troubled, Adee." It was Dr. Hillis who addressed her. She controlled herself and said with what brightness she could, "Not troubled; lonely. Beth has found her mother. I am glad. That is, I am trying hard to be glad; but I cannot help the thought that I will be alone."

"For that matter, so will I. Strange thing about this being alone. Just about the time one gets used to it, one finds that he simply cannot stand another day of it. I have been alone all my life, but I never realized it until the day I was ill and Beth came down to see me."

He paused. There was nothing at all that Adee could say to this. Silence was the only thing. Eliza felt that he was looking at her, keenly, but she did not raise her eyes.

"You will not be lonely long. You know what I read in the coals. Fall weather is fine for going about abroad; going where you want to and not leaving until you are ready. What do you think, Adee? Could you let me take Beth's place? Will you let the dream in the coals come true?"

"I'll not let you take Beth's place," she spoke slowly. "You must take your own place." She held out her hand. "But I can't possibly be ready very early in the fall."

So it ended like a fairy story. Nay, for it was far better than a fairy tale. All stories of human life are.

Beth, or Ermann, as her name really was, divided her time between Eliza and her own mother. It would have been a hard matter to decide which she loved most.

The prophecy concerning Adee which Dr. Hillis had read in the embers at the old Oliver Place came true. He and Adee were married and went abroad, where he was received with ovations because of the fine scientific work he had done. Adee was feted and feasted and entertained in palaces. Beth was not with her, of course. Strange to relate, Adee was not lonely. Sometimes her husband would tease her about her "tramp"

friends. They would laugh heartily over the matter. All the best things of life had come to Adee because she had sacrificed her ease and denied herself to take care of a helpless little child. She might have sent Beth to a foundling asylum. How narrow, little and petty her life would have always been, had she done this.

Mrs. Laurens had suffered; but good came through it after all. After losing trace of her own little child she had devoted her money and time to making happy other motherless children. Through her own suffering, she herself was strengthened and developed, and hundreds of children were made comfortable.

Beth, or Ermann, finished a college course and then offered her services to the Fresh Air Society. She takes charge of babies who are motherless, or whose mothers are not responsible. She realizes what her life might have been if Adee had sent her away, and tries to give the little ones in her care the same love and tenderness that she knew.

So wonderful good came from suffering, because those who suffered were strong, and fulfilled their duty n.o.bly.

So ends the tale of Beth, or Ermann, just as you choose to think of her.

But in her own thoughts, she thinks of herself as "That little girl of Miss Liza's," and so the old residents of the valley speak of her.