Clearfield Republican. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1851-1937, 1869-11-24
THE BROKEN HOME.
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION


In San Francisco, on the north side
of Folsom street, overlooking Mission
Bay, stands a palatial residence.
The interior of this house is even
more beautiful than its exterior, every
apartment being in its way a gem OF
magniicence 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-tbo propric.
tor of all this wealth appeared of all
men the most miserable.
He was Mr.. Morton Preblc, for
many years leading banker in San
| Francisco.
1t was in vain that the broad bay
window at tho south end of the room
had been opened, giving ingress to the
sunshine and fragrance of rare flowers
in vain that the walls were lined
with richly carved bookcases and
paintings-in vain that soft couchcs
aad luxrinnt chairs had been gathered
around him.
lie was wre.ched.
He lay on sofa, in tho depths of
the great bay-window, the wreck of a
once powerful man. His figure was
thin and gaunt; his face was white as
marble bis eyes having an expression
of wonderful apprehension, Of barrow
ing anxiety, Of dreadful expectancy.
1t was evident at glance that no
merely physical ailment had made him
what be was.
By what withering secret, by what
destroying aflliction, had he hcen thus
agonizcd Z thus haunted thus hunted 2
he so noble and good he so wealthy
and distinguished
As he moved rcstlcssly upon his
luxurious cushions, the pretty clock
on tho mantel-piecc struck five, every
stroke seemed to fall like a hammer
upon the heart Of the nervous invalid.
lie aroused himself, struggling fecbly
to a sitting posture.
ooh, will this fatal day never,
never pass p he murmured; NOR
81 5i.iSi; iiis- sss rflisfill1o-
Noticing with q nervous Start tn@r
he was alone, he touched n bell upon a
table before him, and called;
"IIelen, Helen where are you?
Before the echoes of his voice had
died out a step was heard, and his
wife entered his presence.
81 left you only for moment, Nor.
ton," she said, advancing to the bank
er's side. "You were doing, | think
! wished TO send for the doctor~
She was a beautiful woman, ofsome
six and thirty years, graceful, with
broad white brows, and loving eyes,
IN which the brightness and sweeincs
of a sunshiny nature were still per.
ceplible, under a grief and anxiety no
less poignant than that evinccd by her
husband.
"The doctor" be echoed, half re.
proachhlly.
ayes, dear" she said, in a calm and
cheerful voice, MS she drew chair TO
the side of the sofa, aud sat down.
stroking the corrugated forehead ofthe
invalid with magnetic touch. Gle
will be here Immediately. Your last
nervous crisis alarmed me. You may
become seriously illw
Mr.. Problc bestowed an affcctionale
look upon his wife, but said despond-
entity:
"Tae DOCTOR lie cannot minister
10 q mind diseased ? Oh, If these
long hours would only pass IfIonly
knew what the day has yet in store
for us y
"Look up, Morton y enioined Mrs.
Prehle, with n Ieverenlly trusliul
glance upward through the open win.
dow at the blue sky, and as if looking
beyond the azure clouds therein -
"Let us appeal from the injustice and
wickedness of earth TO the goodness
and mercy of Heaven -
The banker gave low sobbing sigh.
81 cannot look up, Helen" he an.
swcred, with y passionate tremor in
his voice "only down, down at the
grave that is opening before me p
Mrs Problo continued to stroke his
forehead softly, while she lifted her
pale face to the sunlight streaming
into the apartment.
'I.ook up, Morton--always look
up| she again enioined upon tho in