The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1877-09-27

DfOtners, sne said, after moment,
"and they were all my lovers, and II
loved the eldest. He was my lover, as I
said; but sometimes I have doubted if
he loved me as he loved those brothers
of his, half dozen years their senior
He had been father and mother to them,
and he compassed heaven and earth for
their wishes. All, well, well, SO noble
being never lived before. Greater love
hath no man hath no man" She
paused a moment again, her voice trem-
bling. Chow strange" she resumed,
presently, that [ should be telling this
so calmly! Oh, it aUas storm-it aoos
a storm '' and her old hands clasped and
unclasped nervously. "What dark
| and dreadful time of horror, and now so
tranquil But viii tell you. You al
ways do seem so like what my own children
might have been-al but Mr. Stephen,
I mean," she said, with quick laugh
that restored her to herself. "One day
we were in boat together, alone upon
the little river. Now I remember it all
the green boughs meeting overhead,
the green shadows underneath, the sun
light sitting through, and his face, his
| proud, pale, passionate face, as he said
some simple words that let me know, not
that he loved me, not that he wished
| to know if I loved him-as if that
had been always understood that
he expected me soon to be his wife. I
loved him-oh, how loved him I' said
the old lady, clasping and unclasping
her hands again. But some evil spirit
seized me. I was a coquette; I an
swered him lightly. How did you
know said, but that I was already
pighted to Ralph?' We had hung
close to the shore, beneath the great
boughs, and, looking up as [ spoke,
saw Mark, the second brother, sitting in
the boughs-oh, so strange his face
looked then I beckoned him mischiev-
ously, and in a moment he had parted
all the leaves and sprays, and was threat
ening to spring and swamp the little
boat if we did not let him in. That
night, at the home of the three brothers,
there was fearful contest-I the cause.
All this soft, sweet summer night who
could believe it =? and could I have ever
have believed should sit here calmly
and tell of it to those who were not
born? They had grappled; Ralph was
killed; his eldest brother was found
rcd-handed. When Mark came home
from his ramble, the officers were carry
ing that brother to prison. He never
opened his lips concerning it from that
day." said Mrs. Dalrymple, with a sob
in her voice. "He employed no law
yer, although the court appointed one;
he refused to plead guilty or not guilty.
I will rry. He was sentenced to
| death his sentence was committed to
imprisonment for life. AS for me, l
would not believe it I never believed
it -
"Never ?" said Mr.. Stephen, hoarsely
"Never. I sent Mark to procure me
admission to the prison; he came back
saying it was refused I wrote Mark
brought me back the letter unopened.
His brother, he said, would have no fur
ther communication with us. At length,
| as if worn out with my importantly,
Mark exacted of me pledge of secrecy.
There was no need There was no
need He told me that with his own
eyes he had seen the blow struck, and
had gotten away that he might not be
used as evidence. But L did not believe
it then. 1 gathered all my ready morey;
I went to the prison and gave it to the
keeper, in my ignorance thinking it
necessary. 1t was the day of the SEN
tence. I was taken to the cell and left
He stood up hurriedly to meet me. So
changed so changed White as death,
but his great eyes burning he held
out his arms to me. I waited one mo-
ment-one fatal moment. Tell me
first 1 cried-'oh just say yourself
that you are innocent His arms fell.
You, too 7 he said, and he folded his
arms upon his breast, and stood there,
| his head fallen, surveying me from un-
der his eyebrows. You, toop Oh, [
don't know what there was in the words,
but fell upon the floor, fainting dead
away, and never saw him again. Moth
ing made any difference to me then.
Mark was very tender to me in those
days. T felt as if he ought
to hate the sight of mo. It
1 T lpG
him. Inever loved him but he was
nearer than any one else. I should
never have married him but for mes
sages of something little short of hatred
that he brought me from the prison.
Why do tell you all this, my dears ?''
she said, suddenly stopping. s'And Mr..
Stephen too? Only, perhaps. because
you are part of my lite now-you and
he-and this life is as real to me now as
that That7 No, that is dream; as
the dying do not weep, SO the old do not
suffer III reliving the past. 1t is no
longer my story; there is no sacred Sc
crecy about it; it is the story of that
young girl of whom I spoke to you.
Well-tc go on. Perhaps it was because
he knew I did not love him; perhaps he
wearied of me; perhaps to see me only
recalled to him his crime We've were
not happy together. We lived a long
life of wretchedness. Yet, being his
wife, tried-yes, hied-never to fail
IL my duty. Ibore with him. nursed
him faithfully IL those final years of