The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-08-09

that there must be written the truth that his
hands had slain her brother, the brother OF
the woman he loved! He grew pale, care
worn. restless. and thr, ads of silver streaked
the brown of his hair.
In England they were united and then he
plunged into missionary work in the slums
of London. Abbie joined his labors gladly
They lived frugally. So frugally, in fact, as
to be almost near absolute suffering from
poverty Every dollar was spent on the
needy; no disease prevented them from min
stering over a stricken one; the wicked were
reproved gently, and urged to give up theil
ways; no words of condemnation ever passed
their lips. The poor adored them the wick
ed respected; but were they happy? Abbie
might have been-she loved him so devoted
lv-if it had not been that she feared for heI
husbands brain. Surely he wa mad! She
heard him pray, heard him cry out in agony
punishment, but. Of, spare me for awhile
here! Blood for bic. /, know, but not YET
not yetr' Still, she did not connect his
words with her relatives-no suspicion OF
foul play entered her mind.
Years passed away-years fraught with
labor. The talked-of war between the Colo
MES and England was approaching an abso-
lutte certainty, and then Arthur Farnham
believed he heard the divine call for him to
haste across the water. They sailed back to
Boston. He joined the colonists; he fought
and he prayed, and Abbie devoted her time
to the care of the wounded and suffering.
At last one day she sent for her husband
quickly. There had been battle, and guam
titles of our poor boys were dead or dying.
Abbie met him at the door.
''Oh, Arthur" she said, gravely, 81 have
found my brother among the wounded. He
will die-come pray with himp'
Her brother! Arthur Farnham staggered
forward; one glance ON the bed was sufficient
and then, with a low cry-"Not guilty
fell forward an unconscious burden.
Poor Abbie was alarmed.
Ralph opened his eyes he knew her. 'For-
give me, sister," he whispered feebly. She
took his hand and kissed his damp forehead.
''Father?' she whispered, interrogatively
SIS Dead" he answered. 'We left the
house after-after- you-fed He-was-
killed-a-month- his voice failed.
''Oh, repent, Ralphl while there is yet
time" Abbie cried, seeing death SO neal
him. ooh, God forgive my brotherH'
All was over.
Then Abbie went to her husband. She
found him on his knees.
"God has, indeed, been merciful," he
calculated humbly, and then he told her the
sad story of his hasty blow, and how, for all
these long years he had believed himself a
murderer.
After the war was over and peace at last
proclaimed, they went back to see Abbie S
old home. The house had passed into the
hands of strangers. st. John had been afraid
that Abbie would betray them, especially
after Ralph recovered from the blow which
the young minister had dealt him, sufficient
ly to tell how he was searching for her; and
as he already had wealth enough he deter
mined not to follow his nefarious career
longer, but destroyed all the implements and
every trace of his old profession.
1t was long years before the counterfeit
er's room was discovered, and then a door
was cut through into the main cellar amid
much wonderment why it had been built so
thick and secure.
Arthur Farnham and his wife lived many
long years after their burden was removed
from their shoulders, and now fill honored
graves not hundred miles from here.