Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1881-06-09

ness as be would never ask again fo
forgiveness, or seek his fathers face
He just put his arm about his pale
trembling young wife and turned away
off into the darkness.
II tried to follow, but the master
wouldn't have it.
"'Let them gol' says he. I'll nev
er see them morer
Poor man, he never did! He re,
pented after, when, before the yea,
was out. they was both dead; and be
tried hard to trace their little child
l think her people kept the baby away
for p de, for he could never find it, y
Did you never know more about
her?' | ask. "Who was she?
IA Miss Hartley. from Farmcroft
in Yorkshire"
"Farmcroltl" l exclaim. my peo
pie come from there; and Hartley was
my aunt maiden name. But it is SC
common in that part
Every like" says the old woman
regarding my face with attention.
"still it would be strange, now, if Won
was II cousin Of soma sort. never
saw the poor young lady but that once
but you did mind me Of her strangely
as you stood at the door that first nigh,
you came.
Mrs. Norris does not leave me TIL
| am in bed and have given her my
promise to sleep like good child
| have every intention Of keeElAg
my word; but at first no articles VIII
win oblivion. | have had healachp
all day. The night is hot | am fever
ish and excit d by the news have
received of Frank, an excitement
which Ms. Norrls's tale has tempora
rlly diverted, but not dispelted o.
the contrary, my Inauguration has heen
reused, and, as after weary tossing
drowslness at last steals over me, tn
Frank Of her story and nv husband
get mixed up togetheri in feyerlsh hal
waking dreams.
The picture down stairs comes back
to nv mind. "Like Frank after some
bad illness" 1t must be Iik hun now
then His father was cruel to hlm -
Mr. Eyretos that is would he be good
to Frank when he comes home? " II
he come? 1t IS week since he was
wounded If be We're alive he would
write
Then comes uneasy slumher an
with It come horrible relme-tran K
iyjng dead, And kept aw3V trom IL,
last sight of hun by Mr. Eyr4ton; Frank
alive, but wounded and in pain, try
ing to crawl to me, while some iHvisi,
BILE barrier keeps us apart; Frank I'M
prisoned by his uncle in the desolate
room below-no-not Frank the
pale faced image Of my husband. The
door is locked; Mr. Eyreton never en-
ters it. Frank does rot come to mel
I awake terrified and bewildered
Dreams and reality are so entangled
in my confused brain that | cannot
separate them. Vainly | strive to
reason away my vague fears If Frank
were in the room below | must have
seen him the last time vas dow
there. 1t was only thai dreadful! pjct-
ure. Well, | will 90 and see
Half ashamed OF this foolish impulse
which nevertheless | am constrained in
some strange fashion to obey. | rise
and throw on some clothes. As | am
about to leave the room | remelnb''
the child. Some evil may happen tc
him while | am gone, suggests an ex-
cited brain. He may awake fright
ened, says struggling reason. Snatch
ing up 4 thick shawl wrap it round
him and take him in my arms. The
little fellow wakes and | hush bin
wondering cry. Satisfied that he is
with me, he obeys my injunction to be
silent and nestles down in my arms.
The moonlight makes the corridor
as light as day. Cautiously | pass
along it and descend the wide low.
stepped staircase, nave forgotten tc
bring a light, but it is not needed
We traverse the hall and pause before
the door of the old drAwing-room. The
handle is stiff, and slight difficulty
in turning it rouses me from my STATE
Of semi. som nam bulism.
For one moment the utter folly o
my errand overwhelms me. Wha'