Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1869-12-14

Defrauded of my birthright, not even
such love as is given to the dead IS
mine. You have made me to be as II
| had never been. +"
Utterly exhausted, Mrs. Randolph
lay back upon her pillow, white as the
dead face that had haunted her. Do
not suppose that this long narration
had been made without any breaks
or pauses; or that l have listened
with never a sign of sympathy. L
have given her words as nearly as
possible, but without the interludes.
After little rest, thinking | was
about to leave her. she extended her
hand to detain me.
"Not yet, DOCTOR" she said. "Do
not 60 yet. | have more to say; there
may not be another opportunity" .
| assured her that would wait her
pleasure, and after a while she went
on:
al believe, from my soul believe
| could not have borne my life better
if | had loved my husband less. l
did not dream what it would be to
keep such a secret all my life long;
to feel always, even in our tenderest
moments. that there was something in
my heart that l must keep hidden
from his sight. 1t has been terrible,
terrible! Then there has been the
constant dread of discovery-the
sword of Damocles hanging by hair.
81 thought that when other children
should be born to US, and | should see
his own babies in his arms, the spell
would be broken. But you know
how it was, Wallace and Ethel were
as nothing to him compared with
Clyde. Was it a part of my punish
ment that the child l had imposed up
on him should be dearer to him than
ours-his and mine ?"
"And then they died. If | could
but throw myself at his feet and tell
him all Doctor, doctor r she cried,
turning her white face toward me,
what shall | do? | cannot bear this
torture"
OH it was piteous the imploring
eyes; the eager, thrilling voice; the
outstretched wasted hands. Was l
right or wrong? 1t was hard ques-
ton to decide. But this is what |
said to her:
"' Silence is golden dear child
You took this burden upon yourself.
You have borne it bravely thus far,
God will help you to bear it to the
end"
" | may not tell him, then? Is this
what you think? Speak to me in
Gods stead, my friend, and | will do
your bidding"
I" / think" | said. speaking slowly
and steadily, for | was weighing my
words, ,"that you have no right to make
Dudley Randolph suffer for your fault.
Confession will not undo the past
1t will not restore the wasted years.
You gave Clyde to him as his own son.
He has received him as such, loved
him as such. Death has taken away
his other children. Do not yon take
Clyde. You have no right to do it. !"
Tears were stealing from under
her closed lashes.
But think, she whispered, "he
will know it sometime-up yonder !!
and then how could | bear to meet
his questioning upbraiding glance ?"
" He will know all then" | said !;
p" the early error, the temptation, the
agony, the weary burden you have
borne so long. Dudley Randolph will
be merciful-and so will God"
She smiled family.
go, now,' she said, "for | must
rest. But come again tomorrow"
| paused while in the next room to
give some directions to her maid, and
then went out into the dusky twilight.
Hand in hand over the brow of the
hill where the sunset gold still linger-
ed, came Mr.. Randolph and Clyde !;
and, deeply pondering this strange
history that had been revealed to me
that day, | made my way homeward.
The next morning l was at the
Elms again. Mrs. Randolph received
me with smile.
"God has given me absolution, she
said. "He has sent me token
through Dudley's lips, that / may be
at peace the remainder of my days.
Last night We were sitting here in
silence my husband and when
suddenly he turned and took me in
his arms.
g" You have been such loving,
tender wife, he said. God bless
you, Isabel, for all you have been to
me, for all you have given me. But
next to your love your most precious
gift to me has been-Clyde. For him
thank God and his mother every day
OF my llfe-
"God and his motherl A sweet
peace sank down upon my soul.
was at rest. Now we will never speak
of this again. We will bury this Sc
cret deep, and roll stone to the door
of the sepulchre.
Mrs. Randolph fingered with us for
many quiet, happy restful months
The buried secret troubled her no
more. When she died the gates of
heaven were opened to US who nursed
her, as we caught faint glimpses of the
glories there.
Dudley Randolph and his son
Clyde are alive yet.
But as for me | have no desire ever
again to play the part of a father con-
fessor.