Litchfield enquirer., 1875-02-11

Albany, and this man, millionaire by his own representation, was heaping favors upon them, and conrted her for his wife. Why? By the divine guidance of a heart that had won and given love, Ernestine knew that Ralph Guernsey, spite of his protestations, did not love her. His res- pectfully despairing words, bis well feigned humility in her presence did not deceive her. He had. brought her father to Alba nv to separate her from Walter. he wooed her consistently. yet he did not love her. No reasoning, no logic, no long experience of the wiles of the world could have taught Ernestine this truth she grasped blindly by loves instinct.
 The winter was one long torment to her. In new city there were no pupils, and she was keenly aware that they were living upon the bounty of her discarded lover. True, there was 8 show of business, pa pers were sent to be copied, full of tech nicahties of law and business, and her ia ther talked loudly of the great schemes ir which he was to take part. Yet the girl saw more clearly. True, the business talk was all bewilderment, but it was plain to her afectionate eyes that her father was daily falling more and more under the in- huence of his new friend.
 In all his poverty and despair, Herman Grantley had never sought comfort in strong drink, but as the winter deepened, more than once he came home intoxicated Ralph Guernsey excused him. He was overcome by the cold, and a little liquor made him irresponsible, or, he met with 8 success and must celebrate it, and Ernes- tine quivered under the show of sympathy that was added insult.
 She grew to hate the dark, handsome face, the smooth voice of the man who was her fathers employer, and who was making him his tool for some purpose she could only blindly fear. She would spend hours vainly groping for the motive for all this plausible show of affectionatt interest, and weep herself blind in the sick dread of future misery.
 The blow came in the spring Her ia ther had been absent for hours, upon some errand of Mir. Guernsey's, when that gen tleman came unannounced into the little | sitting room.
 It was pale shadow of the blooming girl he had courted in the summer-house who rose to greet him, but he was pitiless in his purpose. Gently, tenderly he re newed his suit, telling the old story o earnest love, and pleading most humbly for favor. And gently but very firmly ht was once again rejected.
 You do not love me" Ernestine said very sadly, ''and I cannot be your wife Why do you pursue me, against my heart | and your own ?"
 Because I love you! am no boy to prate of my love in every interview; but @ man who gives his heart for life. Ernestine, do love yo1." But he pleaded in vain, til reused to keen anger by the girls steady refusal, he left her with threat "Lov ing or unloving, you shall be mine Y 4 cold horror seized her as she sat il stunned misery, trying to realize hi: threat. Could he force her to marry him How? Where was the pressure to come from that was to make her blind victim to his power? It was long since she haC heard from Walter. Had her father in tercepted her letters Sometimes she hai | suspected it, and shudderingly dismissed the unflial thought She felt SO crushed so lonely and helpless sitting there, tha 1t was relief to hear her fathers step ! though she knew her red, swollen eye would waken his reproaches. She wa. unaware of the time that had passed since Ralph Guernsey had left her, and started as the clock struck the dinner hour. Bu all thought of trivial things, all conscious ness of her own trouble faded from hel mind when she saw her fathers face. It was faded, worn face, deeply seam ed, the white hair scanty, the blue eye: watery and uncertain, but never had il l worn the expression that greeted her star tied eyes as he sank down beside her. Ernestine," he said, in shudderine whisper. lifting the rigid. corps-like masl of his ofd, gentle face to her, "you mus marry Ralph Guernsey tomorrow. H' will not wait any longer
 "I cannot marry him, father, tomorrow or ever"
 'You must child, you must. Come nearer, Ernestine, he can put me in pris on. if you do not"
 Impossible '" the girl erred, proudly ''only criminals go to prison"
 ''But am a criminal l don't know when I did it. but forged check, and drew the money. remember finding tho cbeck in my pocket-book, and taking it tc the bank to get the money but do no know when I signed Ralph Guernsey name to 1t. He has it. Anybody can set I wrote 1t. saw it when he showed it tc me; but he will let me have it back when you marry him. Ernestine, am afraid to go to prison. Ernestine, never crossed you in my life; you will not lei them drag me to prison ?''
 ''No." she whispered, with white, quiv- ering lips. ''If can save you, you shall not go. Is there no other way? Father. she cried. Sis there no other way ?" But the feeble mind had succumbed to terror. The thought of crime commit. ted under the influence of liquor, prompt ed by the fiendish power that had attain ed mastery over mind and body; the dread of punishment, and the strange un. dercurrent of Responsibility, were toe great for the brain already tottering. Ii he had committed this heinous crime iu utter inconsistencies, who could tell how many more such proofs were in existence, ready to spring up in his path? The weak imbecllity brought on by his grief and disappointment was becoming an acute insanity under this pressure of fear and vague remorse. He clung to Ernestine, imploring her to save him, trembling, fearful, and like child in pitiable weak. ness. And the girl comforted him by soothing promises, trying vainly to see some light in the thick darkness around her.
 She was sure her father had never con- sciously committed this crime with which he charged himself. and she dimiy guess ed he had done the deed in moment oi lntoxication. prompted by his evil genius. But his fear was not greater than her own. How were they to resist Ralph Guernsey? Poor, ,frlendless, strangers in the city, how could they accuse 8 man of h1s standing with such vile conspiracy, and obtain any credence. What motive could they assign for such deed {?
 No, there was no way of saving her fa- ther, save by sacrificing herself. With a vague idea of flight, Ernestine opened her fathers pocket-book. Inside was triAe over ninety dollars. and she hid it in hel bosom, with hope that morning would show some means of escape. Without re. membering to eat, she coaxed her father to rest, and long after midnight saw him in deep sleep, and crept to her own room. She was sadly weary. The terri. ble mental agitation of the past few hourl following the strain of the long winter, had tried her sorely, and she fairly sobbed herself to sleep. 5
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