The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1872-02-15
sthst nightv Daisy's voice tremblea

!, 81 she asked the question.
Not word. And / didn't more
than half realize what I was doing
until it was all over; and then such a
chill of terror crept over me, that in
spite of all Wallace could say, / fed.
That it would look suspicious and get
us into trouble knew, but how was
to face my employer with such a
weight of guilt on my soul? Ny looks
would have betrayed everything.
And he-your accomplice-did he
act from impulse too? Wasn't it all
planned before?'
Roberts face darkened. Of course
it was. Jim Wallace is a villain; I
was his tool. His money paid for the
liquor I drank He pocketed the
booty, 1 ran the risk
'You were caught, he escaped-how
was it?'
'Treacherv. He betrayed me at the
last moment to save himself. o Daisy,
Daisy! had listened to your warn
ing 1 would not be here now. Not
only have disgraced myself but you
as WE'LL
Daisy seemed lost in thought. Can
nothing be done?' she cried at last,
ldespairingiy." Oh, that could save
|
Impossible; am guilty. But /
can not, will not be branded as a
felon,' and his eyes glittered strangely
80 Robert! you don't mean'-and
Daisy searched his face, her own
white and terror-stricken- you don't
mean that-that-God help mel it
isn't possible
He said nothing. Sobbing and
trembling, she chung to his breast.
She begged and entreated, she wept
and prayed and finally wrung forth
the reluctant promise that, whatever
happened, he would meet it like a
man, and not cowardly attempt to get
rid of his life and his troubles togeth-
er.
Then, looking at her watch she
found it was time to go. How hard
it was to leave him alone in his desc
late cell She tried to smile and seem
cheerful, but it was vain attempt,
and there was something pathetic in
her whispered "Good-byw
Robert saw it all. "Dear little Dai-
sy !" said he, tenderly, you have done
me good. There wouldn't be so much
wickedness in the world if there were
more like you. Have no fear that /
shall do anything rash. fl am tempt
ed, I have but to think of your pray
ers. and they will save me-"
Hugh was very angry when he
learned what Daisy had done.
"You defy me, then ?" questioned
he. "You will not give up your
brother, who has disgraced us all ?"
II cannot, I dare not"
"But you must. He has sinned let
him pay the penalty"
80 Hugh, dear Hugh, be merciful!
If I forsake him now, he will be lost,
lost forever" There was agonizing
entreaty in her voice and look.
"He is lost" was the cold and stern
response. ellis good name is gone;
his soul is dyed with guilt"
"But even to him is the promise of
salvation held out, if he will but re-
pent."
"Ah, Daisy! his nature is thor
oughly bad one. There is no hope"
"How can you be SO cruel ?" cried
she, Indignantly, her cheek flashing,
her eyes full of tears. "Listen!', and
in trem ulous, agitated voice she told
him all that had transpired in her in
terview with Robert; of his emotion,
and selt-abasement, and gratitude for
her sympathy.
Hugh listened in silence. Only
once he muttered under his breath,
'Hypocrite hypocrite He was not
touched by the story; he could not
believe there was any good left in
Robert He was thief, according
to his own confession. That sufficed
for his condemnation, socially, moral
ly, and eternally.
"Have you nothing to say?" and
Daisy clasped her hands imploringly.
"Oh, don't. don't look so hard and pit
tilessl Think of our common hu-
man nature; we are none of US free
from error. The day may come when |
you, too. will need help and comfort"
s'These entreaties are useless. My
resolution is fixed, unalterable."
There was an icy, metallic ring to his |
voice. 81 would have spared you if |
1 could, would have saved the honor
of the family. But Robert by his own
act, has severed the ties of kindred, |
has covered us all with shame and dis
grace. And what can he expect now
from those whom he has so deeply |
wronged, from those to whom. though |
innocent, the stigma of his guilt at
taches? 1 cannot think of it, cannot |
speak of it calmly. He q0as your
brother he is so no more. Hereafter,
let him be to US as one dead"
Daisy shuddered as he spoke; her
face was white, her eyes full of hor-
ror. "Do you mean it 2" she whisper
ed. Gam | never, never to see him
any more ?"
Her grief moved him at last. 'ETrust
me, Daisy" he said, softly. "It is
best. You are my wife. 1 cannot
have your purity contaminated by
such associations"
She answered not word slowly
she tettered from the room. Hus-
band or brother-which was it to be
Dare she disobey the one to succor
the other? Both love and duty seem
ed to be drawing her each way. To
her husband she owed obedience to
her brother sympathy in his direst
hour of direst need. What was she
to do? How was she to reconcile
these conflicting claims? She could
not decide; her heart was torn with
agony. Whichever way she turned,
she saw only wretchedness.
But she went to the prison no more,
until the day before the trial. Then
she broke away from the fetters that
held her, and resolved to see and COM
fort Robert, whatever the cost. Let
ters from him had reached her, full of
lObOh csho !
wrung her tender heart. And she
had left them unanswered. But at
last she could not resist the love, and
pity, and compassion that impelled
her forward to this last interview.
She went alone and secretly. What
passed between the two neither ever
divulged, but Daisy's prayers were at
length answered, and Robert was tru
ly repentant. He was no longer Bit
ter and rebellious, but confessed him
self willing to expiate his crime in
whatever way the law required. And
if God should spare his life until his
imprisonment were ended, he resolv-
ed to devote it to q better purpose
than heretofore.
Daisy was comforted. A weight
seemed lifted from her heart, and she
returned home, glad that she had |
gone, but trembling for the result. |