Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1868-10-02
Devoted to the Interests of the People.

d
seized his unresisting hand, and, clasping
it closely in both her own, looked eagerly
into the bronzed face, where surprise and
ioy and love, and the smouldering fires of
half forgotten anger and distrust, seemed
struggling for supremacy.
He would have signed to the young peo-
pie to leave them alone; but she led him
still unresisting into her little sitting-room
at the rear of the shop, then, softly closing
the door, she released his hand, and, still
looking into his face, said.
"Not one kiss for your wife, Robert,
after SO long-so longw and the low
voice choked, and the clasped fingers grew
white under each others pressure.
"How is it possible, Mary"
She laid her finger on his lips.
"Hush !" she said. / can guess all
you would say" Hastily throwing open
q writing desk, she took from it an old,
yellow, folded paper, and giving it to him,
continued, "Read that, before you judge
me-"
The writing was irregular and scrawl-
ing, as if done by one in great haste or
with shattered nerves. Mr. Barnes read
the few lines three or four times through,
before he seemed to take in their full sig
nifcance. They ran:
New YORK, August 7th, 1S4S.
MY DEAR WIFE: Come to me at once. Harry
is very ILL., and, worn out with care and Watching,
my own health is giving way. Isend this by pri-
vate hand, to Mr.. Jeremy, who will arrange for
your departure, and possibly may accompany you
part of the way. ROBERT
There was brief silence. Then he laid
the faded letter softly down, and whisper
ing, with bated breath, 81 see it ALL see it
all" held towards her his trembling hands.
A smile like the memory of childhood's
sunny mornings flushed through her lin
gering tears, and the weary burden of
twenty years seemed to be lifted from her
life like the mists of the night, as the
strong arms closed around her again, and
she heard the familiar voice, speaking
rather to his own heart than to her,
"How can ever atone for these twenty
years of wrong?"
Oblivious of the young people waiting
and wondering in the next room-obliv-
ious of all the world but themselves, they
looked in each others eyes, and talked fit
fully for more than an hour; but the re-
ply to his first question disclosed all we
care to know.
"Who gave you that letter?'
"Mr Jeremy. 1 did not know what to
do. 1t seemed so unlike you to send to
him, and not to me direct, that felt in
clined to doubt. But you were not
quite well when you left home, and Mr..
Jeremy was your most trusted friend
So trusted, you remember, Robert, that
you laughed at me, as both vain and fool
ish, when / had told you, some months
before, that he seemed to be seeking op-
portunity and encouragement for culpable
advances, and in very shame tried to per
suade myself that you must be right. And
then, the thought that you and Harry might
be dying, among strangers, thousand
miles from me, wrung my heart; and, fol-
you on the same day he gave me the letter.
it was the second day out before he threw
off the mask. At first / affected not to
understand him, and tried to laugh; but
that only encouraged him. Then 1 re-
pulsed him, and threatened to appeal to-
the Captain of the steamer for protection.
But he taunted me with my helpless and
equivocal position; and finally, in his
anger and chagrin, he threw off all dis
guise, and told me that the letter he had
given me was written by himself, and
that he had spared no pains to commit me
irrevocably to his fortunes, and with dev
ilish malignity, he even showed me copy,
true one as / found afterwards, of an
article which he had sent to the press, and
which he assured me had then been circu-
lated throughout the city. / was crushed,
but not conquered. l did appeal to the
Captain, who placed me on the first west
ward bound steamer we met, and within
five days after I started away, was at
home again. But it was home no longer
saw Mr. Gage, and he told me of all you
had done, but was slow to believe what
had to tell We have tried repeatedly to
learn your whereabouts; but beyond the
cold courtesy of the bank-officers at St.
Louis we could never penetrate. You
guarded your secret we'll
"With the little money you left with
me, added to what Mr.. Gage generously
advanced me, 1 opened this little shop.
God prospered me abundantly; and here
[ have remained ever since. In my in
most heart kneao you would come back
again some time; and l have never closed
my eyes in sleep without praying God to
spare me to see that day. And now that
day has come. Oh, husband-dear hus
band the past is buried out of sight, and
we are young again r.
"Is Mr.. Gage still living?"
"No; he died two years ago; but his
sons have succeeded to his business Sew
eral years ago the lots where we lived
were covered by huge business houses,
built by Mr.. Gage. The rents paid for
them long ago, and, since then, neither
father nor sons would take dollar of
their proceeds, but have regularly depos-
tied them in a savings bank, to the credit
of little Harry" as they always would
call him. OF course, would not touch
them without your consent. Twelve
wears ago my cousin Helen died, and left
me her fve-year-old girl. You saw her in
the front room"
"Where is Jeremy?"
"Dead ten years ago. Mrs. Gage has
letter written by him, few days be-
fore his death, to her husband. I have
never seen it, but they have told me
that these facts are there stated, amid
much penitent protestation, substantially
as have lust told them to you. God for
give me but it was bewildering work,
sometimes, to think of him with anything
but malediction."
There was long pause, broken only by
the scarce audible sobs that marked the
ebb of the storm of emotion which had
so lately swept through that quiet house.
One by one the street-lamps threw their
struggling beams into the settling dark
ness. and the roar of the day subsidized
gradually into the citys multitudinous
avoices of the night" Then she rose
softly, and said,
Let MS call in the children; and when
we have satisfied their wonder, you shall
tell me all your history through these many
years"
in all Chicago's quarter of million