Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1872-06-07

beautiful teeth oval lace" but L fell
all the time without thus minutely ex
amining each feature, her face was in
delibly impressed on my mind; / wa;
not likely soon to forget either the face
or the girl.
Being very anxious for news of my
sister, directly our meal was finished
paid my bill-the girl would not hear
of my paying her share-and ordered
the waiter to call hanson.
"Please, cab for me at the same
time," said she.
"Now," thought, " she will be oblig
ed to give an address, and shall know
where she is going"
Placing her IN the cab and shutting
the door, l said, "where shall tell the
driver to take your"
A suddenly frightened look, q blush
and catching of the breath, a moments
hesitation, and then " Templebar,n was
the order given. l marveled, but gave
the direction, took off my hat, and the
cab drove off. "Very mysterious" l
thought. However, there was no time
for indulging in vain speculation, home
l must hasten. Ny sister found very
i'll, though all danger was over; but
what with the necessary attention to her
and great press of business, of my
own, ceased to think further of my
strange travelling companion.
Four days after, however, my eye was
suddenly arrested by the following ad-
vertisement in the Sensation" column
OF the Times "Left her home, on the
evening of the 1st of December, a young
lady. Middle height, and delicate look
ing; brown eyes and eyebrows, oval
face. Dressed, when last seen, in a
maroon rep dress, trimmed with velvet
and fringe. Is supposed to have with
her handbag, with initials in gold on
it, of B. B. Amy person giving infor-
nation as to her whereabouts, or any
information whatever, shall be hand
somely rewarded. Apply to L. B., post
Office, Stopham."
l rubbed my eyes. Did see clearly
Was dreaming? No; there was the
exact description of my travelling COM
panion-date and description coincided.
Then there was some mystery connected
with the girl, after all. thought so.
Five minutes reflection, and | was
writing to al. B." giving a full account
of my journey to town. The letter
dispatched, l waited with what patience
| could for the next move in the play.
Just as l had finished dinner the next
evening, and was feeling somewhat
lonely, not having my sister to talk to,
as had ever been the case since we were
left orphans together years ago, the
servant entered, saying a gentleman
was in the library who desired to see
me, if possible, instantly, on very i'm
portant business. The card sent in
bore the name of "Col. Byng."
"Now for the solution of the mys-
terry " I thought, as, quickly following
the servant, I found myself in the
presence of a oall, military-looking
man, who came forward to meet me in
great agitation, and, as ] offered my
hand, broke out with "Tell me where
to find my daughter, for Gods sake |"
Quickly related the circumstances
of our journey; and as | ended the
story the poor father dropped his head
on his breast, murmuring, "All my
fault, nay fault. / was too harsh with
the poor child; I know it now, too late.
And yet believed | was acting for the
best. Sir Turning to me-" thank
you for easing my mind so far. You
say you are lawyer. pray you unite
your efforts with mine; help me to find
my child"
We sat late into the night, arranging
plans for the following day. l prevailed
upon Col. Byng to take up his quarters
at my house, that he mig ght be on the
spot to compare notes. Beside, the
poor man was in such distracted state
it was not fit for him to be in hotel
alone.
Though every available means of the
detective force, advertisements, etc.,
were used, our search proved fruitless.
The unhappy father at last, worn out
with anxiety. trouble and self-upbraid-
ings, had to return to his hope, his af-
fairs there requiring his presence. His
parting words to me were Leave no
Stone unturned; spare no expense !;
find Beatrice. feel my actions have
murdered my child"
Left to myself, 1 redoubled my efforts,
but was baffled at every turn. l trem-
blingly asked myself, "Couldit be true
was she no more? That face, so sweet,
so pure-that face which now felt was
my fate-was l never to see again ?"
The thought was maddening. "Leave
no stone unturned," no, there could
never again be rest for me until l had
found her.
Things came to climax for me that
evening. How vividly I remember each
particular
The long, long drawing-room, dimly
lit by the lamp placed on small table
by the fire, near which sat my step
mother, toying with some bright colored
woods, and talking merrily to the dis
agreeable, cynical Hooking man at the
opposite side of the hearth; while l, at
a distant table, pretended to be read
ing, though all the while my fathers
parting words kept repeating themselves
over and over again in my mind, and
dancing before me on the page in vain
| tried to read.
"You must accept Mr.. Lomax be-
fore my return at the end of the
week, Beatrice. There must and shall
be no further delay, else you will re-
main no longer in nay house"
Those were the fatal words. the words
that would give me no rest. looked
at Mr.. Lomax. Accept him? be his
wife? belong to him2 the wife of a man
three times my age? a man of morose,
gloomy temper, whom | instinctively
feared as well as hated whose touch !
shuddered at; whose glance seemed to
blight me? Because he was rich and !
poor, was l, therefore, to sacrifice my
young life? Never, come what might
"Mr. Lorhax wishes you to sing
Beatrice came from the distance, my
stepmother's silverY, insincere voice