Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1880-12-10

rected the articles to be charged to NJ
father, easy, as if such transaction wer
frequent and common.
The family was assembled at the suppe
table when got home.
''Dld you have much trouble in match
ing the trimming, dear, inquired my me
| Their.
+! sLess than I expected 1 rejoined
carelessly.
| My father made no comment upon m,
hardness. He was rious and taciturn
eating as if thoughts were far away
worried about business!'' I said to my
self. He had searching eye, an autLori
tative manner, that would have tried my
heroism to the utmost had he chosen tc
catechize me. trembled anon at the
thought, 'What if he had seen me at the
station ?''
Providence, fancied, continued to ia
vOr my righteous cause. I carried my books
up to my room, ''for a long evening" stu.
dy.'' when the meal was over. But at ten
O'Clock 1 was leaning from the open win.
dow, the gas-li hit lowered, that l might
see the more plainly the through night ex.
press, as it flashed across the end of our
street. The row Of lighted panes had new
er seemed so long before, or cleaned SO
dazzliugly,as when 1 tried to fancy, behind
which of the yellow squares crouched the
fugitive, the cowl drawn over the white
face, the figure shaking with the fright.
chill that had seized her when she talked
Of her imprisonment. 1t was raining. a
cold drizzle with which my hair was soak.
ed before left my lookout. The night
was ominously still when the rumble OF
the loaded cars died away to the westward.
A long storm was upon u.s.. In no direc-
ton were silence and darkness more in
tense than in the Eliot house and grounds
when stole from bed at midnight to take
a last survey of the quarter from which
dan ger might come.
I hardened, delightedly, to the roll and
rush Of the rain upon the roof and in the
cutters. It was musical accompaniment
to my dreams of the sequel of my adven-
ture; of Reuben's recovery, his gratitude to
me; his reconciliation with his father; the
eclat the story would gain for me in our
quiet town-perhaps elsewhere. It might
even get into the papers A spice of per-
secution from Mr.. Elliot. of harshness
from my parents, would intensity it into
'Noble Self-Devotion of a Y Dung Grip
The glow of excitement had faded some
what by morning. My first waking thought
was, 1.-The poor mother IS safely housed by
this time with her son." My second, 81
must tell mamma all as soon as papa goes
down town. Breakfast was almost over
when queer fancy siezed me.
What story had Mr.. Eliot palmed off
upon my father and our neighbors of his
wife's illness How had he, skillful vii
lain as he was, contrived to dupe those
who loved her? To tell the truth, my Sc
cret was becoming too weighty for me;
my sense OF personal Importance too sweet
to be enjoyed much longer. All these mo-
tives had part in the birth Of the awkward
query:
Mamma, when did you see Mrs Eliot
last 20
"a month ago, my edear. She is very
nervous, unit to see her most intimate
friends My mother sighed in saying it.
II wonder" pursued 1, idiotically-
bravely, I thought then-''if they have
told her of Reuben's illness 20
My father looked at me suddenly and
keenly, then at my mother, and the re-
CARDS Of both returned to me. grew fe-
verish. 1t was one thing to contestant
other to be detected. What did they sus-
pect?
"Who told you that he was ill, Helena"
asked my father quietly.
He could not have framed simpler ques-
ton, nor one harder to answer.
Il met somebody on the street yesterday
who mentioned it. sir,' articulated, my
tongue becoming dry and thick.
''Who was it 2"
One moment of terrible silence followed
the three words. l could hear the crack
ling of the seed in the canary bird's bill as
he ate his breakfast, the ''tick tick
tick !" of the cooling urn. Six pairs of
eyes, curious, surprised, imperative, bored
into my guilty soul. Then my mouth
opened of itself, and voice that was not
mine uttered a lie,-
81 do not recollect.'
''Do not recollect!" repeated my father,
sternly.
The door opened as I was sliding into
freezing crevasse.
''Mr. Eliot wishes to see you, sir,'' said
a servant.
''Recollect by the time come back,
Helen.;' commanded my father, IN leaving
the room.
The cracking and ticking were drowned
by the slow thuds of my heart.
elbow it rains ~ remarked my sister
Mile, kindly malapropos.
"Freezes as it falls,'' seconded Richard,
eagerly. II say, mother, have you seen
the sign on the door of the new Methodist
Church-'Slips and sittings to be had?'
A fellow can have both.gratis on his way
to school today
They all laughed feebly. The tempest
shook and whipped the north windows.
The door opened again.
''Helen - 1t was my father who called
and beckoned me into the next room.
Mr.. Eliot was walking up and down the
floor, pale as ghost, troubled as the March
weather. My father did not offer me a
seat, nor take one himself.
who told you yesterday that Ruben
Eliot was sick 20
I was silent.
''speak !" be ordered,
7 could not.
Mr.. Eliot took my hand. In the depth