The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-11-18
The StOokbroker at Dinglewoo8.
CHAPTER Iv-TContinued. I

memberlng all the wicked stories PEG
pie tell of mercantile dishonesty, O.
false bankruptcies, and downright
robberies, and the culprits who es
cape and live in wealth and cofnfor
abroad. This was how it was to bt
ia the case Of Harry Gresham. Hi.
wife had her settlement. and would
go to him, and they would be rich and
we'll of. though he had as good al
stolen his neighbor's property and
squandered it away. OF course did
not know all the particulars then
aud l had got to be fond of these
ynuBg people. L knew very web that
Harry was not wicked, and that his
little wife was both innocent and
good. When one reads such stories
IN the papers, one says, /" Wretches T.
and thinks no more of it. But these
two were not Wretches. and | was
fond of them, and it made me
sick at heart l went up stairs, and
shut myself Into my own room, not
being able to see visitors or to hear all
the comment that, without doubt,
was going on. But it did not mend
matters when | saw from my window
Mrs Gresham driving past. lying
back la her carriage, sweeping along
swift as two superb horses could carry
her, with her little old husband In
the corner by her side, and d smile
on her face, ready TO wave her hand
is gracious recognition of any one
she knew. She was like queen COM
ing among US, rather than the mother
Of a man who had fled in darkness
and shame. | never despised poor
hrs Stoke or tho Ight less of her for
Everard's downfall, but felt scorn
and disgust rise in my heart when
these people passed my door; though
Mrs. Gresham, too, was her sons
champion la her own worldly way.
Some hours later Ada sent me few
anxious pleading words, begging me
to 60 to her. l found her in the
avenue, concealing herself among the
trees; though it was a warm Summer
day she was cold aud sbiveriDg. do
not know any word that can express
her pallor. 1t was not the wilderness
of death, but of agonized and miser-
able life, palpitating in every nerve
and strainlng every faculty. s.
Hushl T. she said. Don't go to
the house--I can't bear it'll am
watching for him-here!
Is he coming back?" l cried, in
terror.
II do not know; I can't tell where
he is, or where he is goingp cried
poor Ada, grasping my arm; but if
he should come back he would be
taken. The house is watched. Did
you not see that old man sitting under
the hedge? There are people every,
where about watching for my Harry
and they tell me | am to stay quiet
and take.no notice. [ think will
die-I wish | could die!"
"No, my darling!" | said, crying
over her. Tell me what it is. Did
they bring you no comfort? he will
not come back to be taken. There is
no fear. Did they not tell you what
it means?
''They told me-" cried Ada, with
a violet color flushing over her face,
that [ was to keep my money to my
self, and not to pay back that-that-
what he has takenl 1t is true, he
has taken some money that was not
his, aud lost it; but he means to pay
il back again, Mrs. Mulgrave. We
were so rich; he knew be could pay
it all back And now he has lost
everything and can't pay it. And
they will put him in prison. Oh. /
wish he had died wish We had all
died" cried Ada, rather than this
rather than to feel what | do to- day I"
My dear" [ cried, don't say so /:
we cannot die when we please. 1t Is
4 terrible misfortune; but when he
did not mean it"
Great tears rushed to Ada's eyes.
" He did not mean that" she said !;
" but | think he meant to keep my
money and live on it. o, what shall
I do2 They say | will be wicked If |
give it up. will work for him with
all my heart. But l cannot go on
living like this, and keep what is not
mine. 1t your husband had done it,
Mrs. Mulgrave-don't be angry with
me-would not you have sold the cot
-tage and given up everything? And
what am | to do?
You must come in and rest" /
said. Never mind what they said
to you. You must do what is right
Ada, and Gerald will stand by you
He will know how to do it. Come in
now and rest"
" Al, Geraldp' cried the poo
child. and then she leant on my
shoulder and cried. The momen
she heard even the name of one mar
whom she could trust her strength
broke down. " Gerald will know how
to do itr' she said, family, as | lee
her in, and tried to smile ut me. L
was a CLEAN of comfort in the dark
ness, | cannot describe the perioI
of terrible suspense that followed.
stayed with her, making no pretenc
of going back to my own house
though when the story came to be II
the newspapers all my friends wrote
letters to me, and disapproved of N.
conduct. l did not care; one know
cpe's own duties better than one
friends do. The day after the bal
hosts OF cards, and civil messages
aud kind inquiries had poure
up1n Ada; but after that they total ].
sfoDped. Not a carriage nor vlsito
came near the house for the tire
last DAYS. The world fell away frou
Us, and left the poor young creatur
to bear her burden alone. L
the midst of all this real suffer
ing there was one little lnclden
winch affected my temper more thai
all the rest. Old Thomas Lee. an oil
man from the village, who used t
carry little wares about in a basket
and made his living by it, had takel
his place under the hedge close to tn
gates Of Dinglewood, and sat Their
watching all day long. OF course, h
was paid to do it, and he was yer
poor. But | don't think the none
he earned so has done him much gooC
have never given penny or a pen
nv's worth to old Lee since that time
Many a sixDence poor Harry had toss
ed al him as he passed in his Yanke
wagon every morning to the station
| had no patience with the wretche
,II -sDv Ra had the assuranca