The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1876-04-21
THE WAGES OF SIN.
An Affecting Family HistOry with N
Suitable IIOrnI.

Suitable Moral.
A few days ago the Cleveland Leader
!, s.lve in a special telegram from Samdus-
ky the substance of an account given by
man who had found in Ceylon, Mr..
Harlow Case, collector of the port of
Sandusky in 1850, who defaulted and
run away with the wife of his deputy.
The paper completes the story, giving
the full narrative of the traveller, who
found the guilty pair living in affiuent
style in CeylOn. He visited their house,
and, after a fine dinner, the following
took place:
Sir" said he, in tones which shall
never forget, "ifI have sinned, God in
heaven knows that | have suffered and
if in F.'s bereavement he has cursed me,
that curse is fearfully fulfilled. Poor
Mary is dying-has been dying for
months, and l have known it. 1t has
been for me to see the failing step-tke
dimming eye; it is for me now to see the
terrible struggles of her nearly wOrnOut
frame; it is for me to listen to her Ian
| guage of remoTse that sometimes almost
drives me mad. Yes, mad, mad ~ he
said, in frenzy, rising and crossing the
floor with long, hasty strides. Then
burying his face in his hands, he ex-
| CIdlIlcu. 100 ldlG. 100 ldl6 . L HdNtIC
Pented !' There was long pause, and
he continued, calmly: "N No human
means can now restore my poor cOmpan-
ion. Her moral sensibilities become
| more and more acute as she fails in
strength, 50 that she reproaches herself
constantly" A weary, mournful sigh
broke from his lips as if bis heart would
break. "Oh, if he knewP he exclaimed
again, "if he knew how bitter penalty
she is paying for the outrage she had
committed upon him, he would pity her
and, il it could be, forgive. VIII you
see her, sir?
shrunk from the very thought.
She has asked for you, sir; do not
deny her request. Hearing that you
came from America, she entreated me
to bring you to her. / promised that L
would"
Il will go, then |
Up the cool, wide, matted stairs he
led me, into a chamber oriental in its
furnishing and chaste in its magnificence. |
There, half-reclining in a wide easy |
chair, a costly shawl of lace cast over her |
attenuated shoulders, the rich dressing !
gown clinging and followed to the raw
ages sickness had made, sat one whose |
great beauty and once gentle gifts made !
the light and loveliness of the sacred |
home. The eyes only retained their |
luster: they were woefully sunken. The /
blazing fire, kindled at the vitals, burned |
upon her sharpened cheeks-buIned |
more fiercely, more hotly, as she looked |
upon my face. | could think no more of
anger; could only say to myself: Il" Oh,
how sorry am for You! " She knew,
probably, by her husbands manner, that
l was aware of their circumstances.
The first question was: Are you 60
ing back to America, sir ?"
The hollow voice startled me. ]
seemed to see an open sepulcher. / told
her that it was not my intention to re-
turn at present. "Oh, then, who VIII
take nv little child back to her father?"
she cried, the tears falling. am dy-
ing, and she must go back to him. 1t is
the only reparation l can make-and
little enough-for the bitter wrong |
have done them. | hoped, sir, you
might see him. she added, a moment
after, checking her sobs 81 hoped you
might tell him that his image is before
me from morning till night, as i know
he must have looked when the first shock
came. Oh, sir, tell him my story
Warn, oh, warn everybody. Tell him /
have suffered through the long, long
hours these many years-ah! God only
knows how deeply" "Mary, you must
control your feelings" said my host,
gently. /" Let me talk while | may"
was the answer. " Let me say that since
the day / left home | have not known a
single hour of happiness. 1t was always
to come-always just ahead-and here is
what has come-the grave is opening, and
l must 90 to judgment. Oh, how bit
terly have 1 paid for my sin. Forgive
me, oh, my God, forgive!"
1t was a solemn hour-that which /
spent by that dying penitent. Prayer !
she listened to she did not seem to joins
or if she did, she gave no outward sign.
RemOrse had worn away all her beauty,
even more than illness. She looked to {
the future with despairing kind of :
hope and feeble faith. Reader, the mis-
guided woman of Ceylon lies beneath
the stately branches of the palm tree.
Her sweet child nel er met her father in '
ner native land She sleeps under the
troubled waters of the great wild sea. {
Where the betrayer wanders | cannot
tell, but wherever it is there is no peace !
ror him. How often rings that hollow :
voice in my ear: Tell him my story. {
Warn, oh, warn everybody"