Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 111: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TREASURE OF THE. HEART _ my dear, you grow radiant. Just to look at your eyes, and to know that such eyes may shine in such a world, is a solace to the heart. I’ve been preaching the beauty of holiness, my dear, all my life; now you're beginning to teach an old man the holiness of beauty.” For, in truth, something of the child’s look had passed into Amy’s; something deep, and sure, and full of knowledge and of peace; something, too, of its elusive and innocent mischief had touched her grave mouth into a fine, quick smile. Once, when the child had followed her into her own room, which was its chosen playground, half in jest Amy took out a set of small dishes which had been hers. With a gesture of de- light, the little one clapped its hands soundlessly. After that she learned how to play with her visitor. Seated on the floor, she opened her old picture books, turning them, page by page; placed dolls close to the small foot; or, obeying an unspoken command, rocked them in the cradles. And then, in soft whispers, she talked: “Savourneen Dheelish! Come, come, always, always come! Ah, I love you so much, Treasure-of-the-heart! Do you know I’ve gotten to feel as if [ were your mother? Feel? Why, I know | am! Baby, you understand, don’t you? You do?” Amy laughed, a soft and happy laugh. “Of course you do, Beautifulest!” There was never a murmur of reply, never a touch of the small fingers; but there was that in the intent and listen- ing look which assured her that the child understood; and, divining that Love had brought it, she prayed that Love might keep it. And Love, indeed, kept it, for more than a year. Then the Savourneen Dheelish came but seldom. Always pale, it grew paler still, and smileless; always it looked at her, dumb, and as if in piteous entreaty. The small feet were too tired to dance beside her, the languid, lovely head drooped like a fad- ing flower. 3 And she could do nothing. She could not even take her baby in her arms and 101 mother it. She grew wan and thin, suffering that terrible, age-old anguish which mothers, since the first mother, must endure. During one of those weeks of ab- sence, in a vain effort to comfort her- self, she had painted the child’s por- trait in her pretty, clever water colors. But this presentment of its frail beauty tormented as well as comforted her ; for perhaps her own loneliness and long- ing had crept into the work, to give the baby face a poignant wistfulness. Twice more her baby came; each time more frail, fading, spiritlike. Then followed a time of absolute blankness. Mysteriously, inexplicably, as it had come, the Savourneen Dheelish had gone. She who was bereft of it was as one who wanders in a gray and grievous world. Rumors of Gordon and his wife had, from time to time, crept back to the quiet home they had left. Stories of his gigantic undertakings, which terrified the simple minds of his old friends. From Gordon himself Amy had not, for long, long months, heard anything. The daily papers kept the whole world advised of his whereabouts, however. Presently, other darker rumors crept into the papers; finally, open news of a divorce. And then the flaring headlines chron- icled his downfall. Gordon had over- reached even himself. The pinnacle of gold on which he stood—always a treacherous and_ slippery foothold— melted as if by magic. Outwitted and outgeneraled by older and more cun- ning wolves than himself, once down, the pack proceeded to devour him. He wrote home: I have been ordered to lie quiet for a space or go to the bowwows. And I find I am really tired and need rest. You've seen the papers, so you'll know I’m coming alone, for my little girl died, right in the thick of things. Perhaps it’s better so. Tell auntie to have my little old room ready for me. It’s good to have a quiet place to lie down, and think things over, till you’re strong enough to get up and do ’em. And I'll be more than glad to see you again, Amy. They looked at each other curiously, CONMUC HOOK (E@