The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1881-08-02

could IL be her husband of whom she
seemed In such abject terror My blood
boiled l felt ready to defend her against
dozen husbands; but how2
1t was midnight now; we could not
be far from London; the guard might
be popping his head in at any moment.
Jumped to a sudden conclusion.
"Were you going to any friend in
London ?"
1 know nobody in London"
"The poor little thing is either mad
or husband is BRUTE" was my mental
exclamation.
"Then you must come home with me
to my wife she will see after you"
An upward glance of wild, agonized
suppllcaiion:
"She won't betray me, or2take baby
from me 7" And once more the wee
dead thing was lifted up into the arms
that seemed almost too frail to hold it,
and hidden away beneath the long
mourning cape.
l took her home. Mary received her
with broad look of amaze that made me
smile, but that found no expression in
words. When, taking her aside, told
her all / knew, she wrung her hands in
sheer sympathizing pity
Murdered her own baby-her first
born! Oh, how sad, how dreadful ~
And involuntarily she glanced toward
tI,n door hot l,;I
safely Graded and asleep Then she went
back to our strange guest, who sat hud-
died up in my big easy chair, the dead
baby still at her bosom.
81 must get her to bed," said Mary,
with quick, determined nod; and she
really did contrive to do so by soft, ten
der, cooling words, and solemn assur-
ance of safety to herself and baby, whom
she kissed and cried over, and consider
ed as she might some living object of So
licitude, much to the little mothers
comfort.
" And you won't betray me; and he
won't come and take her from me, or
hurt us with his angry look Oh, dear,
how nice it is to lie down / am so
tired, and baby is cold; but think 1
can sleep now a little and-forget."
She was half asleepa already the heavy
lids had dropped together, the small,
pale face had dropped downward upon
the little downy head that lay against
her bosom.
"Her husband must be sent for" /
said resolutely, when we found ourselves
once more alone; and l glanced at an
envelope / had taken from the strangers
pocket:
''MRs. TREMAYNE,
- GTdnttey Lodge,
. Grantley."
Mary stared at me aghast.
" Her husband, who hates her, and
would have killed her baby! Oh, John,
you would not be so cruel She seems
so frightened OF him, poor little thing
You may be sure he is some horrid,
wicked tyrant. And if she really killed
her baby-oh, dear, how sad it is !
Whatever will become of her!''
"But, my dear child, if she has
husband or friends we must festore her
to them. Why, she is little more
than child It's very strange, very,
and sad but the mystery must be clear
ed, and the baby buried"
Mary still pronounced me cruel and
unfeeling beyond anything she could
have conceived.
g. n
man, who will murder her as soon as he
gets her into his hands. You know,
John, that husbands are always murder
ing their wives.''
" Nliddle.aged wives, dear, or elderly,
whose lives are heavily insured. 1 shall
telegraph at once"
"Then her death will be at your door,
slr-mind that y and too indignant to
waste upon me more words, away went
Mary to take a last peep at our own
sleeping babes, at the dead baby about
which there was so much mystery, and
the poor young mother whom She had
doomed to a violent death.
She still bending over her, and
had called me up to the bedside to notice
the extraordinary length of the lashes,
and the beauty of the face in repose,
when we were startled by knock at
the front door.
(" It's the husband know it is. Oh,
John, don't betray her; don't give her
up; you wouldn't be SO cruel"
Nonsense, child watch by her till l