The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1879-06-05

8 Salvatore and Myrrah loved
eaeh pther was no secret from them
selves Still Salvatore had not the
courage to declare his affection to the
father. The father eventually declared
it to him.
One evening, after casting up very
long and profitable account, the mer-
chant closed the ledger, and exclaimed
Nov, Salvatore, I have new account
to commence with YOU"
Salvatore colored He hoped, yet
dreaded, what was to come.
An account with me, sir?" he STAN
mered, standing with one hand on the
table, and looking the jeweler in the
face respectfully.
Yes; an account of Lowell"
"LoUe, sir!"
Yes! | am not blind, Salvatore!
l see that you love Myrrah, and she
loves you. [ have long perceived it.
1t adds to the tranquility of my de-
Ginning years. You will, feel assured,
make her good and faithful husband.
She shall be yours. I give her-the
dearest treasure of my old heart giue
he'' to yoat, with my whole fortune,
when it may please Heaven to call me
to my long, last account"
The old man paused; tears fell fast
from his eyes, which he wiped slowly
away, seemingly awaiting Salvadore's
reply.
But Salvatore did not answer instant
ly; he was so much agitated as to be
compelled to lean on the table for sup
port; for, although he was now six
years older than when he first entered
Mr.. Altenbury's service, and had seen
much more of the world, both in Brus-
sells and in Italy, his feelings and his
conscience were still the same, espe-
cially on one point-i1ategrity; his de-
parture from it in single instance
had been dreadful, although most
salutary, lesson, and he resolved never
again, by word or deed, to violate it's
most sacred laws. He could not listen
to that old mans almost parental &C
cents, and impose on him the belief that
he had always been so honorable and
upright as he implicitly believed, or &C
eept the hand Of his guileless daughter,
much as he adored her, for blameless
honesty, which he had so shamefully
violated neither would he accept in his
own mind any excuse of necessity, even
starvation Or death, as warrant for
wrong-doing. Looking, therefore, the
jeweler, with some difidence, in the
face, he said, in disconsolate tone,
Sir, I'm afraid, if you knew all, you
would instantly withdraw from me your
whole esteem, and consider my duplici-
ty had rendered me wholly unworthy of
your daughters hand"
The merchant started, and gazed at
him in perfect surprise. "What is it,"
he inquired, family, shat you have to
tell me against yourself?"
II did steal that diamond cross!" ex-
claimed Salvatore, with spasmodic
effort.
"Are you in your senses, Salvad ore?
exclaimed the merchant.
"Yes, sir, perfectly; and my sole mo-
tive for bringing back the casket was
from the sting of guilty conscience.
[ have often wished to impart the terri
BILE secret to you, when you so fire.
quently complimented me on my rigid
honesty; but I never had the moral
courage. AS full atonement, when the
loss of your daughters hand will, in all
probability, be the cause of my early
death, I reveal all to you now. Your
goodness overwhelms me; / would
sooner die than deceive you any longer,
Or enter into your family with a lie in
my heart. You are no longer mistaken
in me; you know the worst; Myrrah
also must know it. She may reject me;
you may spurn me; [ may not long
survive-I feel that impossible I
have done all that the memory of my
mother-all that God, commands, and,
It [ die, dare now hope that He, at
least, will pardon and receive me, miser-
able penitent that I am. Yes, He will
pardon mel"
"And SO will I!' said the ieweler,
smiling, and extending his arms to en-
brace Salvatore. eff there needed any
other feeling than my present gratitude
for your six years service, or the affec-
ton with which, almost as son, you
have inspired me, this manly acknowl-
edgment-this straightforward confess
sion-would have supplied it. But you
! oAO uOe iu1UO buO ICIOu you LudSS9luG
yourself. I, on my part, have a secret
to disclose; those very jewels dia-
mond cross which you thought you
stole, were your mother's!"
"My mother's?"
Eyes; she borrowed money on it of
me, to complete your education, which,
not long before her death, she paid off.
still enjoining me to hold the jewels in
trust, till [ heard of your approaching
marriage, or of being married. Then
10 present them to you as a present
from your departed mother to the bride.
There they are!''
At the same time he unlocked a
drawer and handed the casket to Saliva
dore, who stood like one in a dream,
lost and bewildered.
"Is it all true?" at length he in
quired, somewhat vacantly.
Gall true" responded the merchant,