Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1881-12-20

| IOr week out, Int eFiutuCo dc y GU uciuS
| far from conclusive, bail for his appearance
was taken. This bail was offered by his
brother, a respectable tradesman, well
known in his neighborhood, and to whom
Crawford had sent on his arrest.
So Crawford was at large again, much to
| Christie's dismay who took off her Sum-
day clothes, on her return home, with a
heavy heart, hoping, rather than trusting,
that they should not all be murdered in
their beds before the week was out. 1t
must be confessed Margaret herself was
not entirely free from fears of Crawford 8
vengeance his eyes had looked so ma
liciously and vindictively at her and at her
husband, as they gave their evidence.
But his absence in the household gave
Margaret enough to do to prevent her
dwelling on foolish fears. His being away
made a terrible blank in their daily com.
fort which neither Margaret nor Christie
exert themselves as they would could fill
up !; and it was the more necessary that all
should go on smoothly, as Doctor Browns
nerves had received such shock at
the discovery of the guilt of his fa-
vorite trusted servant, that Margaret
was led at times to apprehend serious
illness. He would pace about the room at
night, when he thought she was asleep,
moaning to himself-and in the morning
would require the utmost persuasion to in
duce him to go out and see his patients.
He was worse than ever, after consulting
the lawyer whom he had employed to con-
duct the prosecution. There was, as Mar
garet was brought unwilhnglY to perceive,
some mystery in the case for he eagerly
took his letters from the post, going to the
door as soon as he heard the knock, and
concealng their directions from her. As
the week passed away, his nervous misery
still increased.
One evening-the candles were not
| lighted-he was sitting over the fire in a
listless attitude, resting his head on his
hand, and that supported on his knee
Margaret determined TO try an experiment,
to see if she could not probe and find out
the nature of the sore that he hid with such
constant care She took a stool and sat
down at his feet, taking his hand in hers.
Listen, dearest james, to an old story
l once heard. 1t may interest You. There
were two orphans, boy and girl in their
hearts, though they were young man
and young woman in years. They were
not brother and sister, and by and-by
they fell in love-just in the same fond
silly way you and / did, you remember.
Well, the girl was amongst her own people,
but the boy was far away from his
if indeed he had any alive. But the girl
loved him so dearly for himself, that some
times she thought she was glad that he
had no one to care for him but Just her
alone. Her friends did not like him as she
did for perhaps they were wise, grave,
cold people, and she, [ daresay, was very
foolish. And they did not like her marry
ing the boy, which was just stupidity in
them, for they had not word to say
against him. But about a week before
the marriage day was fixed, they thought
they had found out something-my darling
love, don't take away your hand-don't
| tremble SO, only Just listen. Her aunt
came to her and SAID Child, you must
give up your lover his father was tempted
and sinned, and if he is now alive he is
transported convict. The marriage cannot
take place. But the girl stood up and
said If he has known this great sorrow
and shame, he needs my love all the more.
| | will not leave him, nor forsake him, but
love him all the better. And | charge
you, aunt, as you hope to receive bless
ing for doing as you would be done by,
| IndI you btil nO OAO ICdliJ tilHh
that girl awed her aunt, in some
strange way, into secrecy. But when
she was left alone, she cried long and
sadly, to think what shadow rested on
the heart she loved so dearly, and she
meant to strive to tighten the life, and to
conceal for ever that she had heard OF the
| burden but now she thinks-O, my hus-
band how you must have suffered" as
L L bo, H.,
cried terrible mans tears.
sGod be thanked i" he said at length.
s'You know all, and you do not shrink
from me. o, what miserable, deceitful
coward l have been Suffered Yes
suffered enough to drive me mad and if |
had but been brave, | might have been
spared all this long twelve months of
agony. But it is right should have been
punished. And you knew it even before
we were married, when you might have
drawn back.
ssI could not; you would not have
broken off your engagement with me,
would you, under the like circumstances,
if our cases had been reversed ?"
81 do not know. Perhaps | might, for
l am not so brave, so good, SO strong as
you, my Margaret. How could be
Let me tell you more: We wandered
about, my mother and l, thankful that our
name was such common one, but shrink
| ing from every allusion-in a way which
no one can understand who has not been
conscious of an inward sore. Living in
an assize town was torture; CON-
mercial one was nearly as bad My father
was the son of dignitied clergymas, we'll
known to his brethren cathedral town
was to be avoided, because there the cir.
cumstance of the Dean of Saint Botolph's
son having been transported, was sure to
be known. / had to be educated there
fore we had to live in a town for my
mother could not bear to part from me, and
| was sent to day school. We were very
poor for our station-no we had no sta.
ton we were the wife and child of con-
Wet, for my poor mothers early habits, |
should have said But when | was about
fourteen, my father died In his exile, leav-
ing, as convicts did in those days, large
fortune. 1t all came to US, My mother
shut herself up, and cried and prayed for
whole day. Then she called me in, aud
took me into her counsel. We solemnly
pledged ourselves to give the money to
some charity, as soon as | was legally OF
age. Till then the interest was laid by,
every penny of it though sometimes we
were in sore distress for money, my educa-
ton cost so much. But how could we tell
in what way the money had been accumu-
lated p Here he dropped his voice.
Soon after | was one-and- twenty the
papers rang with admiration Of the un-
known munifcent donor of certain sums.
l loathed their praises. / shrank from all
recollection of my father. remembered
him dimly, but always as angry and vio-
lent with my mother, My-poor gentle
mother Margaret, she loved my father
and for her sake l have tried, since her
death, to feel kindly towards his memory.
Soon after my mothers death came to
know you, my jewel, my treasure !"
After while he began again. But,
0 Margaret even now you do not know
the worst. After my mothers death /
found bundle of law papers-of news
naner reDorts about nv fathers trial