Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1879-10-23

brow, who was the shadow of dark
suspicion, haunted her dream.
She had never guessed that the
vision of radiant loneliness that had
appeared once or twice in her faith.
er's dusky Office, in iaunty hat and
velvet, was indelibly engraved on
the memory Of Byron Forsythe, high
spirited, well born rs she, and that
he cursed the poverty that forbade
him to try to win the prize he COW
eted. Mr.. Morton's inquiries for him
proved fruitless, and the world
wagged on.
The crowds on the thronged side.
walks stopped and held their breath;
teams and turnouts tried to clear the
way az a runaway horse came gal
looping down fremont street, champ
ing his bits and foaming. The driv.
er, who was slightly intoxicated, had
completely lost control of him. There
was no one brave enough to attempt
the rescue, and the carriage was in
momentary danger of being over
turned when some one leaped from
the crowd, and caught at the bride
of the excited animal and chung to
him with desperate grip. He was
dragged along short distance, get
ting terribly bruised, and then others
came to the rescue, and he was taken
up insensible from the feet OF he
horse that stood painting and steam
ing, but conquered. The occupants
OF the carriage were lady and gen.
tlemsD, whose white faces showed
the terrible fright they had exper-
fenced.
Bring him here said the lady's
sweet and silvery voice, as they hes
itated what 20 do with the man. we
are almost home
sMy God !. exclaimed Mr.. Morton
for it was he and Veronica-as they
placed MIN on the soft cushions. st
is Byron Forsyth
For the terrified lovely face of
Veronica Morton, beside her father
in the open carriage, had caught the
eye OF Byron Forsyth, and in an in
slant he had flung himself between
her and terrible danger.
80, said Veronica, with little cry
of terror as she recognized the facs.
Have we killed him p
Byron Forsyth was unconscious
that the little gloved hand, which he
would have counted happiness to
touch, was resting gently upon the
rich masses of dark brown hair that
clustered above his fair open brow.
The best medical aid was sum.
moned, and he was soon restored to
consciousness. No prince could have
been tended more carefully than he,
lying in darkened chamber, whose
rich, soft carpet muffled every sound
He had skillful nurse, but Veronica
herself often soothed his restfulness.
In spite of careful nursing, brain
fever ensued. His wild rawlings of
unjust suspicion and hopeless love,
chilled the hearts of his listeners.
Veronica prayed that he might live
to know his innocence had been
proved, and her father, who had Just
come up from the borders of death,
longed for reason to return, that he
might atone to the sensitive soul for
the injustice. The boon was granted.
One afternoon he opened his eyes to
see Veronica's lovely face bending
over him, not radinta and animated
as he had seen it, but suffused with
tender sympathy.
You herep Where am Ip 1t
was your father who sus pected me Of
he said weakly.
'Can you forgive me, my boy =? |
was hasty, | proved you innocent
long ago. Will you give me your
hand?' said Mr.. Morton, who stood
there.
You almost gave your life for
ours, said Veronica, IN a faltering
tone, reaching out her hand also,
which he carried reverently to his
lips.
Byron Forsythe, the junior part.
ner IN the firm of Morton & Co., and
the happy husband of Veronica, is a
firm believer in the doctrine that
"Misfortunes are blessings in dis
ovisaO