The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-09-09


too sharp and too deep for curses. From
the depth OF my torn heart / pitied
them.
Well, twenty years rolled on, and l
had got TO be forty years old, feeling
aud looking more like sixty-fve, bent
and stiff and gray-haired. One day in
my wandcrings / came on travelling
party Of miners, bound to the gold re-
gions. joined them, frontier fashion,
and was soon seated at their fire, ex-
changing news with the Indians and
those from the States. CHANGED 10
mention my name.
We've got namesake Of yours in
camp" said one fellow.
Have you? 1t isn't a common
name" ! replied carelessly.
mo, and there's where it's odd
said he. beside, you somehow re-
mind me of HIM, though you're much
older than he can be. BY the way, there
he comes"
Misunderstanding, knew not what,
seemed to shoot through me. ] rose
and recognized Robert, my brother. My
heart gave one bound. / forgot my
wrongs, saw only my dear other self,
the beloved companion Of my boyhood's
days. ] sprang forward eagerly.
Robert, dear old boy, is it you?"
He looked at me incredulously.
Ralph, it can't be your
ut IS ! cried; and-wclf, ] don't
know as am ashamed OF til embrace
ed him like a schoolgirl and wept.
And 50 did he, poor fellow, though
he could hardly believe the wrecked old
man was his brother But what struck
me even then as strange was that he
did not shrink from me, nor act as
though he had injured me-
Robert said. when we were
alone and calmer, 1--WE forgiven YOU
long ago. We won't speak Of the past
Let me be happy in the bliss Of seeing
you once more. ! will never come round
to trouble you brother"
Forgive me?" he said inquiringly,
81 don't understand. You'll never
trouble me and we won't speak Of the
past? Why didn't you write tous? Your
poor wife"
"Do not speak of her, Robert" | in
terrupted in sudden agony. II can bear
anything ese-spare me that"
"But, Ralph. there's something very
strange here Why didn't YOU let US
hear from you? VII, can't speak of
her? Since you are not dead, as we sup
posed, why did you desert her;n
desert henry wife! My Godm
and fairly laughed.
a horrible laugh, | dare say, for Rob-
ert turned pale. could see he thought
was mad. IreSolvcd to control myself
and, since we must have it out, TO talk
it over So after a turn or two, | came
back and stood by him.
"Now, Robert. if there's any mistake
here, let US understand it at once. |
left you, twenty years ago, in charge of
my wife"
you did, and-T
"And YOU" | interrupted, took the
best care Of her-and did not hear from
me; and she grew tired of waiting and
loving shadow, and you grew to love
her"
"Holdr' he shouted, his eyes blazing.
"Who told You that?'
went on, not needing Lm:-
And she grew faint and tired; she
saw your love and returned it.
Robert seized my arm as though he
would murder me.
Hush, till | have DONE" l said.
"WAen YOU received the money | sent,
YOU were too far gone to 90 back. She
got divorce, you married her, and left
the city"
And you have believed this thing
for twenty years?' he said calmly,
though it was the calmness of smoth-
cred volcano.
II have"
you have for twenty-one years be-
lieved that both your wife and YOUR
brother were UNANIMOUSLY false to your"
Il have
Then hear me, Ralph, while | swear
solemnly that the whole story is an in
famous falsehood! That your wife is
as true to you to-day as she was the day
you left her.
What do YOU mean, Robert?"
cried frantically, overwhelmed by the
earneStness of his manner and words.
What / say, Ralph, Oh, there has
been a great mistake! Hear my story,
After you left us, | struggled on with
the business, though not succeeding
very well. .Susy dropped at first, but
soon grew cheerful, and, after while,
began to plan for your return
These words brought the dear little
creature so plain before my eyes that |
sank to the ground and covered my
face.
'As weeks and months and years
passed on" he went on slowly, "her
cheeks grew so thin and pale, and a
hungry look came into hcreyes, | saw
she was pining, and wrote letter TO
you. but no word could we hear. There
came to me in a little letter, directed to
both of us, a draft of five thousand dol
lars. with not a word TO tell how or
from whom it came. OF course we
knew it came from YOU, but whether
Gift or legacy, who could tellp We in
stituted new inquiries, Nothing that
love could suggest was left undone. At
last we were forced to conclude that
YOU were dead. BY my advice the
money was invested in small farm
some distance from San Francisco, and
Susy went to live on it, while | started
out on sort Of wandering, vagabond