Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1869-11-20
THE BROKEN HOME.
+" TRUTH STRANGER THAN FIcTIoN.n

feet 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 ap-
pearedof all men the most miserable.
He was Mr.. Morton Preble, fer many years 4
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 ingress to the sunshine and the fra
GRANGE of rare fowers-in vain that the walls
were lined with richly carved bookcases and
paintings-in vain that soft couches and luxu-
rious chairs had been gathered around him.
lie was wretched.
He Law on a sofa, in the depths of the great
bay-windOw. the wreck Of a 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
1t was evident at a glance that no merely
physical ailnent had made him what he was.
BY what witherisg secret, by what destroying
affiiction had he been thus agonized? thus
haunted? thus hrrrted? he so noble and good! he
50 wealthy and distinguished!
As he moved restlessly upon his luxurious
cushions the pretty clock upon the mantel-piece
struck five, every stroke seeming to fall like a
hammer upon the heart Of the nervous invalid.
He aroused hisnself, struggling feebly to a sit
'.Oh, will this fatal day never, never pass?''
he murmured; % nor bring us relief?''
Noticing with a nervous start that he was
alone, he touched bell upon table before
him, and called
Helen, Helen! where are you?''
Before the echoes of his voice had died out q
step was heard, and his wife entered his pres
ence.
Il left you only for moment, Norton" she
said, advancing to the bankers side. "YOu
were doing, think. wished to send for the
dOctOr!"
She was a beautiful woman, Of some six and
thirty years, graceful, with broad white brows,
and loving eyes, in which the brightness and
ceptible, under grief and anxiety no less poig-
nant than that evinced by her husband.
The doctor!" he echoed, half reproach-
fully.
"Yes, dear, !" she said, in calm and cheerful
voice, she drew a chair to the side OF the
sofa, and sat down, strOking the corrugated
forehead Of the invalid with 2 magnetic touch.
seriously ILL"
MIR. PTeble bestowed an affectionate look upon
his wife, but said despondently:
"The dOctOr!" He cannot minister to a
mind diseascdv Oh, if these long hours would
only pass! If only knew what the day has yet
"Look up, Mortonr' enjoined Mrs. Preble,
with a reverently trustful glance upward
through the open window at the blue sky, and
as if looking beyond the azure clouds therein.
- Let us appeal from the injustice and wicked
ness OF earth to the goodness and mercy of
Heaven
The bank er gave low, sobbing sigh.
81 cdRHOt look up, Helen" he answered, with
n passionate tremor i'm 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.
Look up, MOrt0n-always look up" she
again enjoined upon the invalid. During all
doubted either the goodness or the justice Of
Heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they
shall be comforted.' 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 an
-. ~n.I<xx I.x.w
"GlOrious faith! My wife, you are indeed a
blessed comforter! Perhaps, after all, you are
right!'
A knock resounded on a side door at this
juncture, and the next moment Dr. Hutton, the
family physician, for whom Mrs. Preble had
.sent, entered the room.
He was an old man, portly in figure, with white
hair and beard, but with fresh and ruddy com
plexiOn, pair of shrewd blue eyes, and with an
exuberant bOyishness OF manner that sat well
upon him. He had kind heart and a clear
head He approached the sofa, after greeting
the husband and wife, and lifted the thin rest
less hand Of the 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 as your mind is in its present
condition. i must give you an opiate-"
Not now, doctor" interPOsed the banker BAN. r,
be broad awake now, for 1 cannot tell at any
moment what the next may bring forth. l am
looking for the elimination Of all my years of
Perhaps even now All, what was that?"
He started up wildly, and then, as the sound
that had disturbed him was not repeated, he
sank back again on his cushions, pallid and
The doctor looked at Mrs. Preble with an
anxious, questioning glance.
50 II is the anniversary she replied to his un-
a. All, yes, said the doctor. 80 / remember"
Yes, it's another OF those terrible days."
cried the banker, in hollow whisper. :. Sit
nj 4 xufI fan q fl.a l,fSla.
story. 1 can think of nothing else to-day, and
am almost wild with apprehension and anxiety.
Sit down."
= DIR. Hutton drew up a chair and seated him
sell, his face expressing the double soicitude Of
a friend and physician.
lyon knew us fourteen years ago, DOCTOR"
now, in q cottage on the site Of this great man.
sion. There was but the three Of us-Helen and
L, and our three-year old Jessie. And it was
fourteen years ago to-day that our little Jessie
al remember it, said the doctor softly. aye
might she not have been lost, Mr.. Preble? She
went out to play in the garden, if l remember
rightly, and was never seen by you again. She
might have strayed away"
$50 we thought for whole year, doctor, y in
terrupted the banker. ave never dreamed that
she had been stolen. We searched everywhere
for her, and offered immense rewards for her re-
covery. 1 employed detectives, but all to no
purpose. When our little Jessie ran down the
steps into that flower garden" and he pointed
10 the 'front.' OF the mouse, I" as II the earth had
opened and swallowed her up, we never saw her
again"
.'She must have found the gate open, and
wandered out" suggested DR.. Hutton. ''She
might have strolled down to the waters and
been drowned"
The banker fixed his burning eyes upon the
face, and whispered:
said we never saw the poor child again. /
did not say We had not heard of her. She was
lost on the 9Th of August, 1854. For a year we
thought her dead. But ON the anniversary Of
our loss We received . written message concern
ing her.
Z" A mere scrawl-a single line In hand evil
IDENTIFY disguised" said the banker. " Here it
is"
He produced a dingy scrap of paper from a
of the physician, who read as follows:
August ., 1850. Jessie, Ia, Ia! yessis."
DR.. Hutton looked, with q puzzled air, from
over, to the countenance Of the banker.
81 can make nothing Of this" he declared.
50 Ii II merely date, with the name OF your lost
daughter. IL tells me nothing"
Nor did il us, nj hrst, !" said Mr.. Preble.
81 Then that name and that date, with the demon
laugh connecting them, set US to thinking. A
whole year we agonized over the dreadful prob
lem, and then we received another message,
" hich you shall see."
He thrust q second slip of paper, identical in
shape and appearance with the first, before the
gaze Of DIR. Hutton, who read IL aloud:
August 9, 1855. Your Jessie still tres."
The physician started, a. IL electrified.
This Somethfru 1cfnffa-snn,efhiuo