Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1868-01-18

] stepped out of the room to des' eend
be stairs and meet him, wherI the
ound of a strangers voice speaking
With him stopped me.
1--WE will come In here for an hour
,r so. You can remain safely that
ength of time." heard Arthur say in
.epIy to something.
Had my suspicious not been aroused
before, these words would have meant
nothing to me. Aa it was, / felt that
now was my time for strength. They
went through the parlor door, not TAX
lag the precautiOn to close it'll to
tai darkness in my room leading Arth-
mr. to think was asleep; aud these are
the very words / heard my husband
say: 49,.
eve must get off five hundred of
those fifty cent stamps tomorrow
Dick will take them to Baltimore, and
/ defy any one to tell them from gen
uine ones. The last plate was lucky
hit. +"
/ slid back into my room, and sank
down cold and faint. How / had long
ed to possess this secret, and now 1t
was mine / felt as if being smother
ed with its weight upon nay heart. My
Arthur, low-lived criminal, robber,
a man that must look upon every hon
est face as a pursuing foe could
not, could not bear it. .-.....
Little May started uneasy In her
sleep. / remembered then with sud-
den shock of pain thst / was moth
er as well as wife. Did | not owe
something TO my child I? / sprsng up,
and, lighting the gas. till the room was
flooded with light, started for my hus-
bands presence.
/ would meet and face him, and
more, disown him if needs be, to save
nv darIing's future. a
Upon the first landing / faltered -
After all 1 could not look into his eyes
and condemn him as 1 would have con.
demned another.
Turning as swiftly as / had come,
fastened back, closed the door softly,
and bringing a carpet-bag from the
closet, began, with trembling fingers,
to take out my baby's clothes and fold
and pack them.
/ could not have shed a tear to save
my life, though L thought my heart
would break.
When tue valise was half filed
heard the click of the inner gate, and
directly after, Arthur's feet upon the
stairs.
He opened the door carefully, fear
ing to disturb me, and came In.
did not look up, but went on stead
lily with my packing, rolling up the lit
tie embroidered dresses that l had beer
so happy in handling before, while he
stood IN speechless amazement by the
door.
At last he found his voice.
"What are you doing, Bretna ? What
does this mean ?"
1 turned my white face towards him
for an answer.
"Are you dying ?" he said, springing
forward quickly and lifting me from
the floor.
'sNo, put me down" Ny voice
sounded strange and unnatural, even
to myself.
He lowered his hands in fash.
81 am going away, Arthur" said
sadly. "Our little child loves you now,
she must never know that you are
neither worthy of her love nor my re-
spect."
His face blanched in an instant, as ii
had blanched when he and Richard
Earl met long before.
''Then you know the truth at last p
he groaned, rather than spoke, and
leaning against the door covered his
face.
MY heart relented in an instant.
went up to him and laid my hand
upon his arm.
'Arthur, dear Arthur, forgive me il
was harsh. shall love you always,
and would stay with you even nov, ii
had no child ike our little May. You
see can not; but am not the one to
blame you; 1 do not"
His hands dropped.
'I wish You would, Bretna; / can not
bear this. / did not mean to kill you. .
He sat me down upon the sofa, aud,
turning ont the contents of the valise,
took suit of his own from the ward.
robe, put them in instead, and before
knew what he meant, he said, 81 will
be worthy of you yet, my wife and
child" and kissing us both passion
ately, hurried down the stairs and out
into the night.
Not until heard the door close be-
hind him, and his feet echoing upon
the pavement, did / believe that he
had gone, really gone and left us.
The dawn was coming and yet how
dark it wasl how the wind swept around
the house and moaned through the
trees What wretched morning to
rise upon MS both
I had no friends to go to, so con
tinued to live in the same way as be-
fore, only there was a terrible WEIGHT
upon my heart now, and no Arthur 10
turn to for comfort.
My few city acquaintance understood
that my husband had gone abroad; but
/ was careful not to speak of his return.
Little good his coming would bring,
since, ii he came, we must go.
When my child was older, and per-
haps had home of her own, / would
90 TO Arthur's side and share his life.
Until then it was useless to cheat my
heart with any hopes.
We had been a year alone when the
old minister who baptised me, and who
had known mother from her youth,
came to visit us.
When put my hand into his, and
looked into his face, felt that he
knew all my troubles and meant to help
me.
In truth Arthur had sent him.
HE wished me to say to yoa, my
child" he said trembhngly, while L
hung upon his every word as if it were
a sentence of life or death, that from
the night in which You discovered his
crimes he has lived an honest life and
tried to make what reparation be could
for the past. He hopes you will be
linr,a this Of him and ha Iaraua Won "a