Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1881-06-18
by will<ic Collins.
AUTHOR Or

L uOn hnOW Wlluu shouiu hu'O "AiN'
what / should have done, if my dear
old dog had not helped me out OF it.
He, too, ran up to me with the loving
jealousy of his race, and tried to lick
my hands still fast in Stella's hold. His
paws were Un her shoulder; he at.
tempted to push himself between us. l
think / successfully assumed tran.
quillity which I was far from really
feeling.
"Come, come" I said, "you mustn't
make Traveller jealous"
She let me raise her. All, if she
could have kissed me but that was not
to be done; she kissed the dogs head,
and then she spoke to me. 1 shall mol
set down what she said in these pages.
While 1 live there is no fear of my for.
getting those words.
ISled her back to her chair. The let.
ter addressed to me by the rector ol
Belhaven still lay on the table unread.
1t was of some Importance to Stellas
complete enlightenment as containing
evidence that the confession was genu'
inc. But hesitated for her sake tc
speak Of it just yet.
"Now you know that you have 0
friend to help and advise you," be-
gan.
"No," she interposed; "more than
friend, say brother"
I said it. You had something tc
ask of me-" l resumed, "and you never
put the question"
She understood me.
"Imeant to tell you," she said, "that
| had written letter of refusal to Mr..
Romayne's lawyers. 1 have left Ten
Acres never to return, and | refuse to
accept a farthing of Mr.. Romayne's
money. My mother-though she knows
we have enough to live on-tells me /
have acted with inexcusable pride and
folly. l wanted to ask if you blame
me, Bernard, as she does?"
1 dare say 1 was inexcusably proud
and foolish, too, 1t was the first time
she had called me by my Christian
name since the happy bygone time,
never to come again. Under whatever
influence I acted 1 respected and adj
mired her for that refusal, and 1 owned
it in so many words. This little en-
couragement seemed to relieve her.
She was so much calmer that l ventured
to speak of the rector's letter.
She wouldn't hear of it. "Oh, Ber-
nard, have I not learnt to trust you yet?
Put away these papers. There is only
one thing I want to know. Who gave
them to you? The rector?"
"No."
"How did they reach you?"
"Through Father Benwell."
She started to her feet like a woman
electrified.
81 knew ii" she cried. "It is the
priest who has wrecked my married life,
and he got his information from those
letters befoie he put them into your
hands," She dropped into her chair
again. "That was the first and fore
most of the questions wanted to put
to you," she said. 81 am answered. /
ask no more"
She was surely wrong about Father
Benwell? 1 tried to show her why.
told her that my reverend FREUD
had put the letters into my hand with
the seal which protected them unbro-
ken. She laughed disdainfully. Did l
know him SO little as to doubt for mo-
ment that he could break seal and re-
place it again? This view was entirely
new to me; was startled, but not con.
yinced. I never desert my friends
even when they are friends Of no very
long standing-and I still tried to de.
fend Father Benwell. The only result
was to make her alter her intention Of
asking me no more questions. 1 limo.
Gently reused in her new curiosity
She was eager to know how l had first
become acquainted with the priest, and
how he had contrived to possess himselJ
of information which was intended fol
my reading only.
There was but one way Of answering
her.
1t was far from easy to man like
myself, unaccustomed to state circum.
stances in their proper order, but I had
no other choice than to reply by telling
the long story of the theft and discovery
Of the rector's papers. So fur as Father
Benwell was concerned the narrative
only confirmed her suspicious. For
the rest, the circumstances which most
interested her were the circumstances
associated with the French boy.
Anything connected with that poor
creature" she said, "has o dreadful
interest for me now"