The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1881-04-08

and then she came forward with faint
cry, but he put out his arm TO keep her
back.
"Pray remein where you are, he said;
1--WE can talk perfectly well at this dis
tance."
lie gazed at her for moment, as she
stood dumb before him, in her superb din
ner dress, with the diamonds that his
mother had worn shining on her neck and
arms,and her lovely face, pale and quiv-
ering now, above them.
81 wish for an answer to my question,
he said again. And we will not leave
this room until have had one
The diamonds upheaved and fell; then
she spoke,not excitedly, but clearly, slow.
ly and distinctly:
''The time has come, then. Edgar, when
| must tell you that which l fear you will
reproach me for not having told you be
fore our marriage" she began. 81 know
it was very wrong of me, now, but did
not think so seriously OF it then; and il
has always been secret between my
mother and myself. l don't think even
Minnie knows all the truth. 1t is about
my father; he was a partner q. in George
ChesterHeld's bank, and, shortly after
was born, he lost large sum of money
in speculations. He used to gamble
too but, alas my mother, who loved
HIM only too well, never knew it until i
| was all too late. He was often out hal
the night, but he told her that it was hi,
business which kept him, and she,in hel
| innocence, believed what he said. On,
day-I seem to have faint recollection o
it-he was arrested on charge of robbinc
George Chesterfeld's bank of G15,OO0
He was found guilty, transported, an,
died in the penal servitude." y,
Again there was a brief silence, whicl
was broken soon by a wild and bite
cry from Ida.
"Oh, Edgar know was never fit t,
be your wife-I, the daughter of con
Wet" she burst forth. "But I loved yot
so well, and feared that / should los
you if you knew what | was. And still
more unworthy am lnow to BE- the moth
er of your child. Oh, Edgar, my hus
band, tell me, tell me that you can ney
er love me any m):e, and | will go ava,
as quiet as possible-away with m,
mother"
She sank down upon the floor in th
agony of her great grief, aud ran he
jeweled fingers through the loosenin!
tresses of her hair. The next momen
and she was lifted tenderly upon he
feet, and gathered to her husband
breast.
SIS this all my poor foolish, little Ida7
he sad, soothingly, and kissed her b'
dewed brow. "To think that the faul
of another could ever lessen my love fo
you. Your father is dead heaven res
his soul-and the skeleton of his Grim
shall never raise up between me and IN
wife. This, then, has caused your fea
of George Chesterfield, My darling no,
much uneasiness you mi ght have spare
yourself if you had only told me all th
before y
"And you won't love me any the les
Edgar ?" she asked, timidly seeking h
face.
"Any the less?" he repeated with
smile. 'More if that can be possibl
for it has convinced me to the uttermo
Of what a precious wife have got. n
darling, set your mind at rest on th'
score at once and for all. And yol
fathers crime shall remain buried wit
him. We won't let that be skelet(
in our cupboard, Ida, will we? What
you say, dear?"
But Lady Westbrooke had nothir
to say-she was sobbing out her j
and thankfullness on her dear husband
breast