Bedford inquirer. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, 1869-11-26
9aisfeltanRpna.
THE BROKEN HOME.


HE DhOhEN HUME.
TRUTH 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 gem Of magnifcencs and
refinement
The library especially realizes the most
perfect ideal of an elegant aud cultured
home
And yet, at the moment we look in upon
bim-one August afternoon, as he occupied
his library-the proprietor of all this wealth
appeared of all men the most miserable.
He was Mr. Morton Preble, for many
years leading banker of San Francisco.
It 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 fragrance of rare fowers-in vain that
the walls were lined with richly carved
book cases 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 guant; his face white as marble
his eyes having an expression of wo-
ful apprehension, of narrowing ankle
ty, of dreadful expectancy.
1t was evident at a glance that no
merely physical ailment had made him
what he was.
BY what whitening secret, by what
destroying affiiction, had he been thus
agonized? thus haunted ? thus hunted?
he so noble and good! he so wealthy
and distinguished
AS he moved restlessly upon his lux
urious cushions the pretty clock on the
mantel-piece struck FIVE, every stroke
seeming TO fall like a hammer upon
the heart of the nervous invalid. He
aroused himself, struggling feebly to
sitting posture.
"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
upon table before him, and called
'Helen, Helen where are you?"
| Before the echoes of his voice had
died out 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 ewasa beautiful woman ofscme six
and thirty years, graceful, with broad
white brows, and loving eyes, in which
the brightness and sweetness of a sun
shiny nature were still perceptible, un-
der a grief and anxiety no less poig-
nant than that evinced by her hus-
band.
''The doctor!' he echoed, half re-
proachfully.
"YeS, dear, F" she said, in calm and
cheerful voice, as she drew a chair to
the side of the sofa, and sat down, stro-
king the corrugated forehead of the in
valid with a magnetic touch. "He
will be here Immediately. Your last
Ders,a%a DeSSaig ST seaTaisjs algEmed me. You NAV
Mr.. Preble bestowed an affectionate
look upon his wife, but said despond-
emily:
"The doctor! He cannot minister
to mind diseased! !; Oh, if these long
hours would only pass If I only
knew what the day has yet in store for
u.s."
''Look up, Morton!" enjoined Mrs.
Preble with a reverently trustful glance
upward through the open window at
the blue sky, and as il looking beyond
the azure clouds therein. "Let us ap-
peal from the injustice and wickedness
of earth to the goodness and mercy of
Heaven~
The banker gave a low, sobbing
sigh.
"I cannot look up, Helen" /" he ans
wered, with a passionate tremor IN his
voice-"only down, down at the grave
that is opening before mep
| Mrs. Preble continued to stroke his
forehead softly, while she lifted her
pale face to the sunlight streaming in
to the apartment.
Look up, Morton-always look up !!
she again enjoined upon the invalid
"During all these fourteen years of az
ony, l have not once doubted either
the goodness or the justice of Heaven
Blessed are they that mourn for the.
shall be comforted.' 1 believe that W,
shall yet rejoice more keenly than w
have mourned, and that we shall com
to a glorious day ofjoy beyond all thi
long night Of sorrow !"