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Show TOM JENKINS. 187 everlasting mystery of love. I linger here-for I have what the poet calls 'Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass.' " He said that was the first time he had ever told the secret of his life. I think it advisable to never tell such secrets to man or woman. One might as well put them in a book. There are times when conversation is irksome, and feeling that we had reached that point, I was starting away, when a poor, hollow-eyed woman, with her rags fluttering in the breeze, approached with irresolute step, and extended a long, bony hand in mute appeal for help. He said to her if she would wait there a "minute he would soon return with something for her. I lingered to talk with the woman, and gave her my mite. He was quickly back, and slipped a package into her hand. The beggar was profuse in thanks and blessings, and eagerly opened the bundle. It contained simply a pair of gold cuff buttons. What use she could make of them I could not divine, for she had neither cuffs nor collar. I hurried away for fear my face would betray my thoughts. The man, in the bigness of his heart, wanted to assist her, but if the acts of men make angels weep, they certainly sometimes make them smile. CHAPTER XLII. TOM JENKINS. The day was sunny and breezy, and our party started off for a ramble over the mountains. Mr. De B , as usual, accompanied Hal. and me. From their subdued conversation I thought three was a crowd, and dropped |
