The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1878-03-02

cafFiasei anu anticipating with JOY, thu
moment that was to unite her to a HUSBAND
she adored. Her son was now fifteen
years old; noble boy of whom the famiI,
might well be proud. They arrived a
dusk and were astonished at finding M
one to receive them. There were no light,
in various parts of the house, but all wa,
silent. The servants who accompanied
them were forced to find back entrance
and admitted their lady through door
of which they found key.
Trembling lest her husband were IN
Lady Fenwick assembled the stairs that lee
to his room, followed by her son. She
tried to open the door, It was locked
but in moment Sir John appeared. TIL,
affectionate wife sprang to his arms, for
getting her strange reception in the JOY o
seeing him. He thrust her from him
with word whose bitter reproach stune
her to the SOUL Was her husband intox
icated or insane? In her heart she be.
lieved that one of these calamities had
come to her happy home-for happy il
had been, Notwithstanding the treatment
she had received from the sisters. Sc
long as her husbands affection never wa.
vered, she could bear all things calmly.
But what web of evil she saw had
been woven around her, when he sternly
told her that she and her son must leave
Fe1wick Hall immediately-thau only one
night more could they remain under rooI
they so dishonored. In vain she pleaded
her innocence; he was inexorable, without
giving her the poor compensation of let.
ting her know who were her accusers.
Heart broken, the poor banished wife
wandered from the place where she had
spent so many happy hours. She and her
son lived in poverty and seclusion, for q
year or two in England; but hearing that
one of her fathers relatives was settled in
America, she sent her son to him. Her
parents were dead-all indeed, save the
sister, Alice, and she was far away
happier bride than Lady Fenwick; poor,
but content. She knew that her mortal
hours were nearly over; and she felt that
she could not die unless she knew that
her son was protected. He little dreamed
how near she was to the end of her pill
grimage, and he tried to cheer her with
bright hopes of the future, when he would
return and carry her back to a pleasant
home in the Western world. Alas she
fingered but to read his first fond letter /:
and then, strangers hands closed the eyes
of the beautiful and unfortunate Lady
Fenwick.
John Fenwick had found his relative,
who was a Texan Farmer. He was re-
ceived kindly, and placed in lawyer 8
Office; his education rendering him a de-
sirable student to the somewhat illiterate
pettifogger, who was the only exponent of
the law within a circuit of ten miles.
Growing sick of situation so little suited
to him he took the opportunity that offer
ed him, Of taking the cditorship of west
ern newspaper.
Il is not to be supposed that John Fen
wick rested quietly under the remem-
brance of his mothers wrongs and his own.
To the British Consul at Chicago he con-
fded the story; story full of absorbing
interest, for the heir of Fenwick Hall was
missing, and the inheritance was now with
out master.
Lonely and unhappy had been the life
led by the master Of Fenwick, since the
departure Of his wife and son. Unknown
to the sisters, he had endeavored to find
their refuge; for often and often, his heart
had refused to believe in the guilt he had
SO rashly taken upon trust. Often when
the two evil women were holding high
court in his domains, queening it over all,
the thought came to him that perhaps
the story was an invention of their own,
for selfish purposes. As well he could
credit this as that his wife should have
been false to him. Often he walked from
troubled dreams, resolving to go to the end
of the world, if need be, to find his injured
victims-but some word from those who
closely watched his moods, and knew when
he had been meditating such step, would
embitter the whole current of his thoughts
anew.
Miss Bertha Fenwick died suddenly,
and "made no sign" She had been the
master-spirit in this iniquitous plot. Had
it not been for her, Euphemia would have
done rightly and atoned for her wicked
ness by confession. Now she was free,
but she dreaded to encounter his just rage
So year after year went by until, at last,
she gathered courage to make the develop
ment
1t vas too late. Already the lamp of
life quivered in the socket with Sir John.
Already the golden bowl was breaking.
When Euphemia crawled feebly to his
bedside, and, on her trembling knees, fall
tered out her confession; perhaps it was
fortunate for her that the dull ear could
but family comprehend the truth.
"Who talks of Carrie and her child 2"
he asked petulantly. ~ am going now
to fetch them home. Order the carriage,
quick p And with these words, he gave
up the life that had been thus poisoned at
the very root. Euphemia clasped the pale
hands to her heart, aud shrieked for one
word of forgiveness from the lips that would
utter it never again.
The desolate old woman went back to
her apartment, but not to die. She was
destined to wear on a feeble, sickly life,
but joyfully to meet the reward of peni-
tence.. Months passed away, and then, on
one of England's brightest, sunniest morn
ings when the merry bells were announc-
ing the return of the youthful Prince of
Wales, John Fenwick quietly took his
station at the Hall, amid the glad smiles
and tears of the rejoicing tenantry, who
remembered his childhood and his moth
er's goodness, and had sympathized most
truly with their wrong.
The British Consul had made known to
the young prince the story of John Fen
wick-had introduced him to his royal
highness; and the feet that went to Eng
land with the prince bore the new baronet
1t was worth all the trouble of the royal
visitor to our shores to have this one great
wrong SO speedily and effectually righted
4 burning chimney, when the SCOT has
been lighted by a fire in the fireplace, can
be extinguished by shutting all the door
in the room so as to prevent any current
of air up the chimney, then, BY throwing
a few handfuls of common fine salt upon
the FIRE in the CRATE or on the hearth, tho
fire in the chimney viii be immediately
extinguished. The philosophy of this i:
that in process of burning the salt muriatiC