The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1869-11-22
B EST
"TRUqu srRANeER rHAN FICTION.

atrcct, overlooking MISSION Bay, STANDS q pala-
The interior of this house is even more beauti-
full than its exterior, every apartment being in
its way gem of magniflcence and refinement.
The library especially realizes the most per-
feet ideal of an elegant and cultured home.
And yet, ut the moment we look in upon him
---one August afternoon, as he occupied his
library-the proprietor of all this wealth APP
peared of all men the most miserable.
He was Mr.. Morton Preble, for many years o
leading banker of San Francisco.
1t was in vain that the broad bay-window at
the south end of the room had been opened,
giving ingrcss to the sunshine and the fragrance
of rare fowers-in vain that the walls were
lined with richly carved bookcases and paint
ings-in vain that soft couches and luxurious
chairs had been gathered around him.
He was wretched.
EIe lay on o sofa, in the depths of the great
bay-window, the wreck of q once powerful man.
His figure was thin and gaunt; his face white as
marble; his eyes having an expression of woful
apprehension, of narrowing anxiety, of dread
fuI expectancy
1t was evident at a glance that no merely ply
steal ailment had made him what he was.
BY what whitening secret by what destroying
afiliction, had he been thus agonized thus
haunted thus hunted ?-he so noble and good
he so wealthy and distinguished
AS he moved restessly upon his luxurious
cushions the pretty clock on the mantelpiece
struck five, every stroke seeming to fall like
hammer upon the heart of the nervous in
valid. He aroused himself, struggling feebly to
sitting posture.
"oh, viii this fatal day never, never pass ?"
he murmured: 'nor bring us relief"
Noticing with n nervous start that he was
alone, he touched bell upon the table before
him, and called
''IIelen, Helen! where are you?"
Before the echoes of his voice had died out
step was heard and his wife entered his pre-
sence.
~ 81 left you only for q moment, Norton" she
said advancing to the bankers side. 60. on were
doing, think. / wished to send for the doc
tori"
She was beautiful woman, of some six and
thirty years graceful, with broad white brows
and loving eyes, in which the brightness and
sweetness of sunshiny nature were still percep
tible, under grief and anxiety no less poignant
than that eyinced by her husband
"The DOCTOR" he echoed, half-reproachfully.
''Yes, dear!" she said, in a calm and cheerful
voice, as she drew chair to the side of the sofa
and sat down, stroking the corrugated forehead
of the invalid with magnetic touch. "He will
be here Immediately. Your last nervous crisis
alarmed me. You may become seriously i'll !"
Mr.. Preblc bestowed an affectionate look upon
his wife, but said despondingly:-
"The doctor! He cannot minister to mind
diseased! Oh, if these long hours would only
pass If only knew what the day has yet in
"Look up, Morton!" enjoned Mrs. Preble
with reverently trustful glance upward through
the open window at the blue sky, and as if look
ing 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 a low, sobbing sigh.
II cannot look up, Helen" he answered, with
a passionate tremor in his voice-"only down,
down at the grave that is opening before me"
Mrs. Preble continued to stroke his forehead
softly, while she lifted her pale face to the sun
light streaming into the apartment.
'L0Ok up, Morton-always look up !" she
again enjoined upon the invalid. During all
these fourteen years of agony, have not once
doubted either the goodness or the justice of
Heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they
shall be comfortcd.' believe that we shall yet
rejoice more keenly than we have mourned, and
that we shall come to glorious day of joy be-
yond all this long night of sorrow!"
The face of the invalid lighted up with an
answering glow, and he murmured-
''Glorious faith My wife, you are indeed q
lessed comforter Perhaps after all, you are
ght !"
A knock resounded on a side-door at this
ncture and the next moment Dr. Hutton, the
niy physician, for whom Mrs. Preble had
ut, entered the room.
He was an old man, portly in figure, with
lite hair and beard, but with fresh and ruddy
lplexion, pair of shrewd blue eyes, and
an exuberant boyishness of manner that sal
upon him. He had kind heart and clear
He approached the sofa, after greeting
husband and wife, and lifted the thin rest
and of the invalid, feeling his pulse.
lite high fever he said, after brief
'Worrying again, eh, Mr.. Preble ? You
airing yourself out. Medicine will do you
Il SO long as your mind is in its present
W. i must give you an opiate-"
doctor, interposed the banker. 81
not-sleep to-day! / need to be
now for | cannot tell at any mo
he next may bring forth. l an
the elimination of all my years o.
the crowning agony of the whole
N now All, what was that?"
h up wildly and then, rs the soun(
sturbed him was not repeated, III
hgain on his cushions, pallid ant
or looked at Mrs. Preble with al
estioning glance.
anniversary" she replied to his un
luiry--''the anniversary of our loss.
!" said the doctor. Il remember"
IS another of those terrible days,
banker, in hollow whisper. Isl
Ptor and ] will tell you the Who'll
an think of nothing else to-day, an
wild with apprehension and anxiety
own.
r. Hutton drew up a chair and seated him
his face expressing the double solicitude {
< lend and physician.
You knew us fourteen years ago, doctor,
MIR. Preble. 1--WE lived then where we d
in cottage on the site of this great mar
There were but the three of us--lIelen an
hnd our three year old Jessie. And it wa
urteen years ago to-day that our little Jess
49, rs stolen from us.
remeplber it, said the doctor softly. 'Ye
Eht she not have been lost, Mr.. Preble? Sh
out to play in the garden, if l remembC
Ry and was never seen by you again. Sh
have strayed away
1--we thought for whole year, doctor, il
ted the banker. ''We never dreamed thi
u been stolen. We searched eVerywhel
&and offered immense rewards for her n
employed detectives, but all to n
When our little Jessie ran down til
b that flower garden" and he pointe
'front.' of the house, 'as if the earth la
and swallowed her up, we never saw he