The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1876-08-05
A TERRIBLE REVENGE.

A TERRIBLE REVENGE.
Two men sat together in a room in one
of the finest residences on a fashionable
New York street one Summer night. One
of them was well preserved gentleman of
perhaps fifty-ive years, and from his air
and dress, it was easy to tell that he was
used to moving in the higher circles of
society.
The other was of nearly the same age,
a sort of dry atmosphere clinging to him.
like that indescribable influence which al
ways seems to surround book from a
| library, that told he was a man whose years
had been spent among bills and ledgers.
| The careless observer would have told
you that his life had settled down into such
a routine that he had no ambition beyond
the careful keeping of his books, that his
ideas were confined to bill and invoice, and
casting up long columns of figures.
But the careful reader of mems faces
would have told you that there was a pecu-
liar look of oaiing for something in his
face. He was biding his time
John Warfield, merchant prince and host
poured out two glasses of wine from. the
glittering decanter on the table, and mo-
| toned John Warne, clerk and vsitor-by
express and urgent invitation-to drink
with him. And they drank silently.
Then there was a long and painful pause
John Warfield was pale with whatever
thoughts were at work in his bosom. Very
pale. He was restless, and paced to and
fro for many minutes, while John Warne
waited patiently for whatever was to be
said.
Suddenly the merchant stopped before
the clerk.
"You have sworn, by your hope of
heaven, by all you consider binding upon
your soul, to never reveal one word of the
conversation that takes place between us
| tonight -
Yes, answered Warne; 81 have sworn"
"There is no use in beating round the
bush," cried Warfeld, his hands working
nervously, and his face growing paler, as
if he were drawing nearer to something
trightful. 81 am on the brink of tinan-
cial ruin, Warne-you know that
Yes, | know it," answered Warne.
"Thcre is only one way out of it," said
Wartield, .hastly white now.
He was very near the hideous thing that
frightened his thoughts.
"And that way?''
"Is DEATH" answered the merchant
hoarsely.
"1ou don't mean to take your own life!"
cried the clerk, startled for moment out
of his usual composure.
"0f course not" answered Warfeld.
"You know that my brother left large
fortune to his only child. She stands be-
| tween me and that fortune to-day. If she
were dead, | should come into possession
of it Immediately. You begin to under
stand, think?'
81 think ! do" answered the clerk, a
trfle pale 1" 1t is her death that you refer
top
Exactly Warne. If she were to die, l
am saved. She must be got ont of the
way. You must do it for me. For years
| have kept your secret. No one in the
world save you and l. know who forged
those drafts twenty five years ago. No
one but you and | will know how Catha-
rine Oran goes out of the world | will
give you ten thousand dollars when the
deed is done. Is it bargain?"
els it murderr' cried Warne, pale as
death. 81 can't do it. Get some one
else.''
81 can trust no one else,'' said War
field, desperately. edo you want to spend
the remainder of your life in a prison cell !?
You shall, so help me God, if you refuse
to help me now. If go to ruin, you shall
60 to the punishment have shielded you
from. There is no risk to run. She is at
school with my daughter-at private in
stitution on the sea shore, fifty miles out of
town. You can 60 down there and get her
out of the way easily enough, without be-
ing detected. l have heard you say, time
and again, that you believed in no here
after What is there so dreadful in doing
this, then? 1t is merely sending her to
her grave sooner than she would otherwise
go. She will be better off dead than liv-
ing"
"She is there with your daughter, you
say? ?"
Warne's voice sounded strange to him
self and far away. His face had lost some
of it's old apathy.
Yes; it is a Wild lonely place. You
will know her by her resemblance to my
daughter. Is it a bargain ~
at is bargain" answered John Warne,
hoarsely, rising from his seat. His eyes
were full Of strange fire; the time he had
waited for five and twenty years was near
at hand at last.
"The wine seems to have got into
your head" laughed Warfield, nervously
"Will you have another glass, Warne? 90
Ono more, thank you," answered the
old clerk. &C 1t isn't wine that has got
into my head, Wartield; it is something
that has been there long time. 1t has
reused itself to- night. Is there any thing
more to be said between us?''
"No," answered Warfield "You I'M
derstand my wishes; be careful, Warne,
and sure ?"
Good-night!' and the clerk bowed him
self out.
"Revenge is sweet, they say" he whis
pered, in the street. shall find if it be
so. Oh, John Warfield, have waited fol
something-1 hardly knew what-for years
never dreamed of such grand opportun
ity as this.'
A wild, wet day. The waves Screamed
in mad glee against the cruel rocks, anG
the sky was like pail. The gulls circlet
in the chill gray atmosphere, crying harshly
and discordantly.
II wonder if she will comer'