Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1859-02-02

did you ever know gentleman there by
the name OIL. f. F.-W
81 knew him, sir, said sternly, looking
the man steadily in the face, "and / knew him
also a ruined, heart-broken man."
With an ejaculation of anguish he put his
handkerchief to his eyes. 1t would have
seemed hypocritical but the suffering on his
face was unmistakable
Perhaps you have suspected then'-he be-
gan in quivering voice.
Not calmly, but with the words of an accu-
ser, told him what had SEEM and thought
and felt.
"Sir," said he, in tones which never shall
forget, eff have sinned, God in Heaven
knows l have suffered and if in F. bereave-
ment he has cursed me, that curseis fearfully
fulfilled Poor Mary is dying-has been dy-
ing for months and I have known it. 1t has
been for me to see the failing step-the dim
ming eye; it is for me, now, to see the terrible
struggles of her nearly WORKOUT frame it is
for me to listen to her language of remorse,
that sometimes almost drives me mad Yes,
mad-mad-mad," he said in frenzy, rising
and crossing the floor with long, hasty strides,
then burying his face in his hands, he excaim-
ed "Too late-too late-I have repented."
There was long pause, and he continued more
calmly, "No human means can now restore my
poor companion. Her moral sensibilities be-
come more and more acute as she fails in
strength, so that she reproaches herself con-
stantly."
A weary mournful sigh broke from his lips,
as if his heart would break.
90 if he knew" he exclaimed again. off he
knew how bitter a penalty she is paying for the
outrage she has committed upon him-he
would pity her-and it could be, forgive"
"Will you see her, sir 2"
l shrank from the very thought.
"Sha has kad for Won sir do NOT daov hnr
request Hearing that you came from Amer
lea, she entreated me to bring you to her /
promised that | would"
81 will go, then"
Up the cool, wide, matted stairs, he led me-
into chamber, oriental in its beautiful fur
nlshing, its chaste magnificence.
There, halfreclining in a wide, easy chair
acostly shawl of lace thrown over her attenua-
ted shoulders, the rich dressing-gown, clinging
and followed to the ravages sickness had made
sat one whose great beauty and once gentle
gifts had made the light and loneliness of a sa-
cred home.
Butnowl o pity pity
The eyes only retained their lustre they
were wofully sunken. The blazing fire, kin
died at the vitals, burned upon her sharpened
cheeks, burned more fiercely, more hotly, as
she looked upon my face. 1 could think no
more of anger-I could only say to myself:
"Ohl how sorry l am for you'll"
She knew, probably, by her husbands man.
ner, that was aware Of their circumstances.
Her first question was
care you going back to America, sir 2"
The hollow voice startled me. l seemed to
see an open sepulchre.
told her that it was not my intention to re-
turn at present.
ooh! then who will take my little child
back to her father 2" she cried, the tears fall
H. i IL IL -.
him! 1t is the only reparation | can make
and little enough, oh little enough, for the bit
ter wrong have done them"
81 hoped, sir, you might see him" she adj
ded a moment after checking her sobs 81
hoped you might tell him that his image is be-
fore me from morning till night as 1 knew he
must have looked when the first shock came
Oh, sir-tell him my story-warn, Oh warn
everybody. Tell him l have suffered through
the long hours, these many weary years ah,
God only knewe how deeply.
MARY, you must control your feelings"
said my host gently.
"Let me talk while l may" was the answer
"Let me say that since the day left my home
| have not seen a single hour Of happiness. 1t
was always to come-always just ahead-and
here is what has comet the grave is opening,
and / must go to judgment o, how bitterly
have l paid for my sin. Forgive me-O my
God forgive"
1t was solemn hour, that which 1 spent by
that dying penitent. Prayer she listened to-
she did not seem to joiner, if she did, she
gave no outward sign. Remorse had worn
away all her beauty, even more than illness.
She looked to the future with adesparing kind
ofhope and but feeble faith
Reader, the misguided woman of Ceylon lies
beneath the stately branches of the palm-tree.
Her sweet child never met her father in her
native land. She sleeps under the troubled
waters of the great wide sea. Where the be-
trayer wanders / cannot tell, but wherever it
is, there is no peace for him. How often rings
that hollow voice in my ear: "Tell him my
story Warn, O warn everybody p