Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-02-07
Bessie came the next day she noticed
81 u


frie1 dis.
"I should have lost it, I dare say, if
it hadn't been for you, Miss Bessie,
Fred said, the last Day she came. I" I'm
a miserable wretch, heaven knows but
| shan't ever forget this" touching her
arm.
:. am so glad [ could help you" she
said, gently,
"Well, you're the first one, he said,
little bitterly.
As [ said, this was ten years before.
and, though the years had brought many
changes, the ameIiorating influences
had been few III the life of Fred Wild
burn. The drunken father and invalid
mother had both died, leaving Fred
quite alone III the miserable, tumble
down old house where be lived. He had
not improved with the years; on the
contrary he had grown more reckless
and disorderly continually, until people
said he was utterly and totally depraved,
without one good impulse in his heart
There had one thing happened during
| these ten years which L nave omitted to
mention. Bessie Brandon had married
Henry Upton; but no one In Maidstone
ever knew Of the terrible night which
Fred Wildburn passed when he heard
OF it.
Nobody ever should know what q mis-
cradle fool he had been, he said liezcely.
He need not have feared-his secret
was safe-for no one ever was wild
enough to suspect him of feeling or SEN
timent, particularly where the petted
daughter of Squire Brandon was COZ
cerned. ....
Henry Upton was an h0nored and
highly respected citizen. He was intel
| hgent, educated and wealthy, and if he
looked down from his sublime height of
virtue and attainment little contempt
uously upon poor, miserable Fred Wild
burn, 1t was certainly no more than his
neighbors did. And if, try any posi-
bility, there had been any little tcickery
or uufanness in the settlement of the
legacy ne could easily excuse himself
upon the plea that it would be a curse
to Wildburn If he had it, leading him
into deeper debauchery, whereas he
could use it wisely and for the benefit of
morality aud religion. The fact that
WildbuTn did not see it In that light was
only another proof of his innate deprav-
ity, people said piously.
from Maidstone by the main road, but
scarcely three by cut across the coun-
try. 1t was little more than Bride
through with his light drag. He started
with 1t one wild, chilly December
morning, promising his wife to return
early If It came on to snow, IS it prom
ised to. 1t was piercing cold, and the
wind blew IN fierce, fitful gusts all the
forenoon. Just after noon it began
snowing-not, as usual, in fine light par
ticles, but with q wild compositions
force that carried all before it. Long
before night the streets were biockaded,
and the wind roared and shrieked up
and down them like mailman.
Bessie Upton paced the floor Of her
pretty sItting-room, more excited and
nervous than she had ever been In her
life before. She had, naturally, quiet,
cool temperament.
elf only he didn't start, " she said,
anxiously; if he saw the ferceness OF
the storm in time to stop at the mills,
instead Of attempting to brave it. y !
The night came down early, but the
mill owner came not, and his wife,
though still anxious, had settled down
to the belief that he would not come
till morning. Suddenly q loud neigh,
falling between the pauses of the tenn
pest, struck her ear.
"Henry has come nowl" she ex-
claimed, and. catching up lamp, she
hurried TO the side door connecting with
the stable.
Only q painting, terrified horse, the
broken harness dangling from his foamy
sides, met her appalled, vision. For a
moment she sank, dizzy and faint, in
chair. She was alone-her one servant,
having gone away for the day, had been
prevented from returning by the storm.
FRED Wild burn was sitting over
smoulderlng fire, inwardly cursing the
storm that kept him in. It was not a
pleasant home-there was that ex-
cUge for him. The walls were dingy
with smoke, the floor was bare and
dirty, the chairs and tables were broken
and dilapidated, and had that terrible,
dreary look that one sees sometimes In
the novels OF the extreme poor.
How the wind blows This is the
third time
He paused suddenly, for, framed in
the door, tee wind and snow whirling
A1do1F opOu1 hC1 cI1S11 uShLCJ SIOOu D6s-
sic Upton.
" Great heavens, Bessie p he eiacu-
lated, and then stood gazing at her in
dumb amazement, while she closed the
door and came and stood before him.
Frederick, she said, in sweet, firm
voice. Henry is out somewhere in this
storm. The horse has come home alone.
Ii he came the forest road he could
never find his way home, and he could
not live till morning in this storm. There
is nobody dare ask but you to go to
him. 1t is great deal to ask, 1 know,
but think | know your heart better
than any one else does, and shall trust to
your courage and bravery In this dread
full emergency.
A fierce spasm of pain crossed his
face. Then he turned away without
speaking and took down his hat and
coat, and they walked together to the
door. He paused on the doorstep, look
| inc WiStfullv down of hnr