The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1868-06-26

E girl is pending upon it, and an
t loath to think that such beautiful
. and innocent exterior can hide 81
, base heart, and, in fact, / will no
believe this until there is proof, pos
} tive, against her.
Il feel all this, Walter, as sensibly
as you do, but what can / do? If il
were right for me to do so, would
, let it all rest here; but the ring
Charles presented me on our wedding
might, and he would think / was
strangely Indifferent to take no meas
ures to regain it
True, Ellen, and now think OF it,
would it not be best TO call the girls
! at once and enquire into the matter I
will step into the back parlor and
remain silent listener to what pass
es between YOU
Annie and Eveline, in obedience
to Mrs. Bensoas summons, soon en-
tered the room, and Mrs. BeLson, in
= voice trembling with emotion,
said
Girls, am about to speak to you
on subject highly painful to me,
and l regret the urgent necessity
that forces me to this step; still du-
ty to myself, as well as you, compels
me to do this
Mrs. Benson said Eveline, after
she had concluded her story,.'I can
not wonder that the disappearance of
your ring seems mysterious to you,
but, rather than to be in the least i'm ;
plicated in 30 disgraceful an affair. I
will allow you to search every arti-
Gle that belongs to me, and presume
Miss Selwyn will consent to do the
same rather than to have this dark
suspicion resting upon u.s.
Annie had stood silent and almost
motionless,. with her face blanched
to an ashy paleness; but now that
she was called upon to speak. she
said in a strangely cold, calm voice:
Certainly, Mrs. Benson, il it be
your wish you are at liberty to look
over the few articles contained in my
box > and rising, she led the way to
her chamber, scarce conscious of
what she was doing. Mrs. Benson
and EveIine followed. Mrs. Benson
half wishing that she-had remained
silent; but she strove to nerve herself
for the unpleasant task with the
thought that duty demanded it, at
however great a sacrifice of feeling.
The last article but one had been
taken from Annie's bandbox, and
Mrs. Benson breathed more freely,
for she was about convinced of her
innocence but as she lifted the re-
naming one, from Its fold fell a small
silk purse, and unclasping it with
hand, she drew from it a
small package, and tearing it from
the wrapper, before her spa-kled her
own diamond ring.
Annie uttered one wild shrek, as
her eye rested upon it. and she would
have fallen to the floor had it not
been for the timely assistance of Ev-
cline. 1t was some time before the
unhappy girl was restored to con-
sciousness and when she revived,
the first words that escaped her Ii
all pale and quivering with the in
tensity of her auguish--were:
% my poor, poor mother how
will she bear this fear that it will
kill her but God knows my inno-
cence, and this thought shall console
me-
Poor canting hypocrite? muttered
Eveline, while malignant smile
lighted her dark eyes, 'her piety has
come too late to save her
We will not stay to relate the con-
that passed between Mrs
Benson and Annie; but simply say
that ere the afternoon had closed,
Annie had received her dues, and
with trembling step, and well
nigh breaking heart, was threading
her way through the crowded streets
to her mothers humble dwelling.
why, Annie, child, what has
brought you home to-nightT ex-
claimed Mrs. Selwyn, as she entered
their small apartment; we were not
looking for you. But how you look,
and I'm quite sure have been weeping.
Do tell me, dear, what is it troubles
your
%, mother, mother y cried Annie, Ii
as she threw her arms around her
neck, and nestled her throbbing head
upon her bosom, ! must tell you all,
OF my heart will surely break. Only L
to think of it, have brought ruin
and disgrace upon you--upon Us all
Mrs. Benson had lost a diamond
ring, and she found it in my purse /
how it came there ! cannot tell hut {
though there is no possible way for
me to prove-my innocence, yet there
ls. One who knows it. o, how un-
grateful she thinks me, thus to repay
her many kindnesses and how she
wept when she pressed my hand just
before left and her voice quivered
as she said: annie, l pity you from
nv heart, 1 do. Don't blame her,
mother, she cannot help thinking me
guilty; and yet, 1 would far rather
have died. / wish / could die now,
mother, o. really ! dob
'"W When Annie had concluded her
recital, the mother and
daughter blended their tears in 81
lence; for o, it is such q luxury to
weep! such q luxury to the aching,
over charged heart! At length Mrs. !
Selwyn said:
Annie, my child, this is to us
dark inscrutable providence; but |
there may yet be light behind the
cloud. Let us not lose our CONT
dence in God, for has he not prom.
ised never to forsake those who trust
in him In this trying hour, human
consolation can avail US nothing.
Let us, my child, seek strength and
comfort from above.
The sable curtain of night has fall
en- around the earth, and the busy
hum of the passers by had ceased.
flushed were the strains of mirth
and sounds of revelry; but in that
lonely apartment of woe and sorrow
might have been seen at that late hour,
the heart stricken mother and daugh
ter, low upon their bended knees, CON-
muning with that Being who never
slumbers nor sleeps. Could Annie's
sccusers but haye seen that aged
mother, and viewed the holy light
that irradiated her face as she pray,
ed for those who had brought this
great and terrible trouble upon them;