Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1869-11-26
A BROKEN HOME.
UTruth Stranger than Fiction"

A BROKEN HOME.
UTruth Stranger than Fiction"
In San Francisco, on the north side OF
Folsom street, overlooking Mission Bay,
stands palatial residence.
The interior of this house is even more
beautiful than its exterior, every apartment
being in its way a gem OF magnifcence
and refinement.
The library especially realizes the most
perfect ideal of an elegant and cultured
home.
And yet, at the moment we look in upon
him-one August afternoon, as he occupied
his library-the proprietor of all this
wealth appeared of all men the most miser-
able.
He was Mr.. Morton Preble, for many
years leading banker of San Francisco.
1t was in vain that the broad bav-window
at the south end of The room had been
opened, giving egress to the sunshine and
the fragrance OF rare fowers-in vain that
the walls were lined with richly carved
bookcases and paintings-in vain that
soft couches and luxurious chairs had been
gathered around him.
He was wretched.
He lay on sofa, in the depths of the
great bay-window, the wreck of once
powerful man. His figure was thin and
gaunt his face white as marble his eyes
having an expression of woful apprehen.
sion, of narrowing anxiety, of dreadful ex.
pectancy.
1t was evident at glance that no mere.
" physical almeut had made him what he
was.
By what wihering secret, by what de-
stroying afflic,ion, had he been thus agon
lied? thus haunted? thus hunted? he Sc
noble and good! he so wealthy and distin
guished!
= AS he moved restlessly upon his luxurious
cushions, the pretty clock on the mantel
piece struck five, every stroke seeming t
fall like a hammer upon the heart Cf the
nervous invalid. He aroused himself
struggling feebly to sitting posture.
"Oh, will this fatal day never, never
pass?' he murmured "nor bring us re
lief?"
Noticing with a nervous start that he wa'
alone, he touched bell upon table before
him, and called:
"Helen, Helen! where are your
Before the echoes of his voice had dice
out a step was heard, and his wife entered
his presence.
II left you only for moment, Morton,
she said, advancing to the bankers side
You we're doing, | think. ! wished t
send for the doctor!
She was a beautiful woman, of some 81!
and thirty years, graceful, with broad white
brows and loving eyes, in which the bright
ness and sweetness of a sunshiny nature
we're still perceptible, under grief anc
anxiety no less poignant than that evince'
by her husband.
"The doctor!" he echoed, half rcproach
fully.
"Yes, dear" she said, in calm ant
cheerful voice, as she drew a chair to thu
side of the sofa, and sat down, stroking thu
corrugated forehead of the invalid with :
magnetic touch "IIe will be here imme
diately. Your last nervous crisis alarmed
me. You may become seriously ill!'
Mr.. Preble bestowed ali atfectionate lool
upon his wife, but said despondently:
"The doctor! He cannot minister to I
mind diseased! Oh. if these long hour
would only pass! If only knew what thu
day has in store for us!'
'"Look up, Morton!' enjoined Mrs
Preble, with reverently trusttul glance up
ward through the open window at the blue
sky, and as if looking beyond the azure
clouds therein. "Let us appeal from thu
=. 81 ii. x,f orfh IN
goodness and mercy of HeavenT
The banker gave low, sobbing sigh.
IL cannot look up, Hele,,' he answered
with passionate tremor in his voice
"only down, down at the grave that is open
ing before me!'
Mrs. Preble continued to stroke his fore
head softly, while she lifted his pale fac'
to the sunlight streaming into the apart
ment.
Look up, Morton-always look up!
she again enjoined upon the invalid. "Du
ring all these fourteen years of agony,
have not once doubted either the goodnes
or Justice of Heaven. Blessed are the,
that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
believe that We shall yet rejoice NOR
keenly than we have mourned, and that w
shall come to glorious day of Joy beyont
all this long night Of sorrowl'
The face of the invalid lighted up will
an answering glow, and he murmured:
"Glorious faith! My wife, you are in
deed blessed comforter! Perhaps, afte
all, you are right!'
A knock resounded at side-door at thi
juncture, and the next moment DIR. Hutton
the family physician, tor whom Mrs
PreEle had sent, entered the room.
He was an old man, portly in figure, will
white hair and beard, but with fresh an
ruddv complexion, a pair Of shrewd blu'
eyes, and with an exuberant boyishness o
manner that sat well upon him. He had
kind heart and clear head. Heapproach
ed the sofa after greeting the husband and
wife, and lifted the thin restless hand of thu
invalid, feeling his pulse.
"Quite high fever" he said, after
brief pause. "Worrying again, eh, Mr.
Preble? You are wearing yourself out
Medicine will do you no good so long a
your mind is in its present condition.
must give you an op'ate- :"
"Not now, dcctor,' interposed the bank
or. al cannot-must not-sleep to-day
| need to be broad awake now, for | canno
tell at any moment what the next ma,
bring forth. l am looking for the culmina
ton Of all my years of anguish-for th'
crowning agony of the whole. Perhaps
even now All, what was that?'
He started up wildly, and then, as the
sound that disturbed him was not repeated
he sank back again on his cushions, pallit
and painting.
The doctor looked a. Mrs. Preble with al
anxious, questioning glance.
at is the anniversary" she replied t