The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1878-11-07
TERMS. $500 PER YEAR.
poor Janet: lie viii forgive me-

~ll- irla lilf luI1.- a q cuilu uiEui
have done. longing for that good old
breast that used u De her shelter
Far on; II tow the homestead stood
and its doors We're locked and its win
dOwS barred against hrr. \ strange
servant came al her SUMMONS She
had anticipated that and written q
few lines begging that her father
would see her. They were returned
u her. and on IL was written:
Il have no longer daughter She
is dead 10 me.
Janet Oliver went back 10 the city
boarding house, and that night babe
was born tO her a wailing thing that
struggled f0T life, and won il al last
and Janet. holding il against her
breast. felt that a fragment of her
Charles life Law there. and chung I,
il as 4 drowning man will cling 10
the flintest floating thing. But for
those little hands, those strange innO-
cent ewes, that precious nothing. hold
ing the embryo soul, Charlie Oliver
wife would have left 90 Of lie and
ii0ated away upon the sea dfgdeath
that night Her baby kept ner alive.
And now her watch, her rings and
her little jeweled keepsakes began 10
90: by and by her cOstlier clothes. the
white furs she had wrapped herself IL
when she elOped that night with Char
lie. One by one, everything went save
some cotton dresses. her hood, and 4
large shawl.
. At last came the climax. She stood
with her babe before the iandlady, who
said firmly, though not Unkindly.
Mrs. Oliver. am sOrry for you; but
: you have a father and he must keep
/ you, ] can't
Janet took her child and went out
/ into the midwinrer afternoon. She
had no hopes Of her fathers pity, but
she said:
We can die, my child and |. within
sight OF the old house; and, perhaps,
he may forgive me when h. sees me
dead"
( Then another hope entered her soul,
she would wrap the child up carefully,
| the little one might live, and he would
have mercy on that for its innocence.
Poor girl, she had no money for a
stage fare; she plOdded on through the
| cold streets and out upon the weary
road for hours; and il grew darker and
darker; eight WAS rIIng from the city
clocks, nine, ten, and only then, by the
clear, frosty moonlight, she saw the
roof of her fathers homestead, with
the elms about if as they had been
when she fed from il with Charlie
Oliver.
She had matureG her plans, and
dragged her weary steps up the porch,
whose deep windows opened to
the floor. There she would lie
down, and in the morning they would
find her dead. All! poor child. L
hardly dare tell what she had done, it
was wicked; but she was very miser-
able. At the bottom of her pocket lay
a bottle which was labeled "lauda-
num-
At last she stool before those win
dOws, and one of them was Open-wide
at half past ten on night in mid
winter.
~Oh, my home" she walled softly,
oh my father. | will go in. | will
lie in my bed. / will die there and my
babe will live, and all good angels help
her to he better child to father than |
have been"
So she crept in on tip-tOe, Umfastened
her shoes, and leaving them without
that she might make no noise.
She gained her little room. BY the
moonlight she saw that il was Just as
she had left it, and must have been
carefully kept from change The
sleeping babe was laid upon the pillow,
and then she thought of her garments
in the bureau drawers. Were they
there yet: 1t would he more Seemly
to die in clean. fresh white robes than
in those travel stained clothes which
she wore. so she peeped in and found
the white raiment. She put it on, and
then knelt down to pray-tO pray with
a vial of poison in her white hand, and
with a mad suicide in her heart.
As she knelt she faced the floor, and
her eye glancing thither, she saw
light flashing up and down the wall,
and heard foOtstep. Could it be her
father? She crept to the door and
looked. Along the passage came the
man servant. bearing a light, coming
very steathily, with strange look on
his face-the strange man servant who
had turned her from the door, by her
fRther's orders, months before, AND
whose wicked face had haunted her
ever since. But where was he going,
and what was he going to do:
She watched him with her heart sud-
ollllEAA III Alo sJItAAAAAF7T hAAAA tnafh
him enter her fathers chamber.
Then she made haste to follow him
as fast as her trembling limbs could
carry her. Not too soon. She saw, as
she glidPd in, an open safe, a rifled
chest, papers and gold upon the floor,
and the servant bending over her
struggling father.
She uttered a shrek and Sprang for
In affnr-rH-arflG tho vii
liam said he fancied her q spirit, and
the sight of her benumbed his arm.
He started, half arose, and with this
opportunity the strong and vigorous
old mal. recovered himself and turn
ing on him, had him down in an in
Stant.
The father knew his child-knew
that she had saved him, but this was
no time to think of that. He only
said
"Raise the window, Janet and call
John, the cOachman."
Janet Obeyed. In a few moments
that wiry rascal on the floor had no
chance of escape-he was bound hand
and foot, and lay there whining.
Janet was soon in her fathers arms.
She led him to the bed where her baby
lay and told him all. He had known
nothing of her woe, not even of the
baby's birth. To his mind she had
been joyful in her young love, migrate
ful to him. God had left the door
open. indeed, though the instrument
had been a murderOuS servants hand,
who fearful of the watchful care of
John, had thought to steal away nOis-
elessly through il Janet had entered
her old home to save her fathers life.
and creep into his heart once more.
The Bonnie LGSSie and 4 host of
honest sailors were never seen again,
for the sea opened its arms and folded
them to its breast forever. But little
island in the ocean had room for Gne
brave foot, and, with so much TO live
for, Charlie Oliver battled with the
waves. and with thirst and hunger, and
deathlike solitude, and watched, pray
ed and waited, feeding on roots, ber-
ries and strange fruits, until at last
sails greeted his eyes, a vessel hOyes in
sight, and the voice of living men
greeted him once more.
Charlie came home TO Janet, and, |
long before, forgiven by her father in
his fancied death, he was not refused
forgiveness when living.
So the old love dreams were realized.
the shadows banished, and AS much of
joy as can come to earthly beings came
to those who lived together in the old
homestead among the elmS. To her
children, aye, and 10 he grandchildren,
perhaps, by this time, Janet Oliver has
told the story of the omen window on
the porch.