Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-10-12

a chance to clear himself.
az Estrange met his daughter with a
grim smile, which, had she been as
clear sighted as usual, might have en-
lightened her as to the writer or insti-
gator of the letter. III / were writing
this story, Karl, / should probably keep
this as a mystery to be unfolded at the
very last, although most any reader of
common intelligence eonld easily g',ess
that l. Estrange was the only enemy |
that John Holland had IN the world, |
and it was easy for him to devise ways |
aud means to iDjure him. A rich man |
like L'Estrange would find no difficulty |
In finding one who would write any
calumny he might dictate. Aud so the
base deed was done, and more than one
heart was made wretched.
ssThe steamer arrived In two weeks
more, and with it came John. He
flung himself into the first carriage he
could find, impatient TO be at home
once more. The time which, In reality
was so brief, seemed almost endless to
him. He had pictured to himself Ma
ria watching for him at the window, or
RAINING down stairs to meet him; but,
to his surprise, no such pleasant recep.
ton awaited him. He entered the
house and made his way to the little
room where his wife and mother had
always sat in the morning. Maria was
not there, and his mother met him with
an air of singular restraint, that alarm
ed and confounded him.
care you not glad to see me, moth
er ?" he asked. "Why do you look at
me so strangely, aud where is Marie 4?
must go to her this instant.
"He ran mp stairs. For the life OF
her, Mrs. Holland could not arouse
courage enough TO stay his steps. He
went TO Marie's chamber. All the girls
we're there rhe toilet, the bureau,
even the bed, we're strewn with them.
You can family imagine how the poor
fellow must have felt. He came down
again to his mother. Something had
Notwithstanding dreadful, he was
sure.
" is she dead, mother p he asked
his poor, pale, quivering lips attesting
to the true love he bore her.
+" No, John, Marie is living and well
for aught / know, but she is not here.
"Her tongue refused to tell him the
tale; bat after Marie had gone, she had
found the diabolical letter that had
caused all the misery, lying twisted
upon the floor, and she now produced
it for Johns perusual.
/" And she believes this, mother p
he asked, as a spasm of intense pain
crossed his face.
81 think she does, John. She has
gone to her father"
"a Mlth III - L. /.
believe this Infamous lie. And, .,
how could Marie ? Well, / must go to
her, wherever she is. It will be un-
pleasant to see Mr.. and Mrs. LES
TRANCE, but l shall go and claim my
wife
Eyes, John, go. believe it is your
duty to see her and prevail on her to
come home. Believe the letter. You
know / do not; but do not blame Marie
too harshly. IL was a terrible blow to
her young and trusting heart
"'But nothing could ever have sh ak
en- my confidence in her, motherr'
said John, mournfnlly, as he turned
away from the door.
"L'Estrange never did things by
halves. His willy cunning had assisted
TO fix the fact of Johns guilt deeplv in
the mind of Marie; and he persuaded
her that a meeting between them would
be fruitless and even wrong. She per-
mitted her father to say that she could
not meet him under any circumstances
whatever; and John, well-nigh distract
ed with grief and a vague feeling OF re-
venge toward some one, he knew not
whom, went home TO his desolate cham
Der and passed the night in an agony
that may not be described.
''After that time, he made numerous
Intellectual attempts to see her, but in
vain. Once, on going to the house of
L Estrange, he found it empty and |
card at the window, signifying that it
was to be sold. He despaired now of |
any future reconciliation. He went
home, packed away every thing that
could remind him of his lost happiness, /
and changed his sleeping-room to dis |
tant part of the house.
Meanwhile, L'Estrauge had remov.
ed to Canada. He was kind enough to /
Marie, but she grew every day more
and more wretched.r One day her faith /
er was brought home dead. He had |
been stricken down by carriage and /
trampled beneath the feet of the horses.
Alter his death, Marie looked over his
papers and, In doing so, she found the |
original draft of that terrible letter.
Heaven only knows what the poor girls
feelings were. when she saw that il was
in her fathers own handl All her In.
Justice to her husband rushed upon her
mind, and she wrote him hurried let
ter, explaining how she had been de-
ceived and imploring his forgiveness.
Her closing words were, If you can
forgive me, write me at once. Let me
by your wife once more-your peniteDt,
wife. If you do not an
swer, shall know that you will not re-
ceive me to your heart. But o John!
think of what / have suffered and par
don your wretchec Marie.
-ss'Six months afterwards. this very
letter made its appearance at the dead
letter office. / remember that, con-
tIary to my usual custom, / read it
through / was struck with the sad,
almost hopeless strain of entreaty
which it breathed.
s'Six monthsl and that letter, the
very embodiment of that woman's soul,
bad never reached the hand for which
it was intended. What signs had been
sent after It'll What prayers and sup
plications had arisen to the great white
chrome, that 1t might touch the heart
Of John Hollandl
Happily was going to New York
the very next day, and, although near
" all my time would be occupied with
official bushes, j should find moment
to deliver that letter into John Hol-
lands own hand.