The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1884-05-09
M
THE STORY OF A SIN.

OR

TO be- sure, she rarely read one, her
hourly companionship with her hus.
band giving her neither inclination nor
need to do so. lie told her all that was
worth hearing, and passed over the
being pressed hard as to the immortality
of ByrOn's writings, said that they were
not so immoral as the newspapers.
AS Mr.. Eyre approached Lowell, one
or two signs of Impotence escaped him;
but no one who saw him alight would
have dreamed that there went man
whose every hope OF earthly happiness
hung on the issues Of the next half
hour.
"You have the reprieve, sir?" the
station master ventured to say when he
had recovered from his amazement.
mot l." said Mr.. Eyre, looking at
the man as though he would read his
very soul.
''But Lord Lowell" said the man,
trembling at his own .audacity.
"Oh! he's coming" said Mr.. Eyre
carelessly. "You may expect him by
the last train;' and he went his way on
foot.
Its all over with her." said the man,
as he went back TO the station; and in
less than half an hour every soul in
Lowell and Marmiton alike knew that
all hope for the condemned woman was
past.
Mr.. Eyre wslked across the fields
with his usual firm step, and ohserv ed
one or two instances of neglect that
would insure sharp rebuke to ten
ant on the morrow. He noted, too, the
old thorn beneath which Madcap loved
to sit, and the hedge in which, at GER
tot Of ha a
to search for moss-cupS. At every step
of the way. indeed, he was reminded OF
his wife, and yet he had no definite
thought of her as he went. / suppose
the man led out to be hanged, does not
think of the gallows that rear them
selves before him against the pale morn.
ing sky; his intense consciousness OF
them goes deeper than mere sight or
thought; and il WAS with no di5ci=et inn
preston of Madcap in his mind that
Mr.. Eyre crossed his own threshold;
and through the open door went in
search OF her. 1t seemed natural to him
that the house should be still and quiet
as grave. lie did not even seek for
her in the lower rooms, but went up
stairs, knowing that he would find her
there; and only when he found himself
in her chamber, and looking at some
thing white stretched on the distant
bed, acknowledged to himself that aw-
full fear that had haunted his journey.
He looked at it awhile in the dim mis-
leading light, then forced himself to
come nearer; and seeing what it was,
put fold or it to his lips, then crossed
the room to his own that lay beyond.
Through the open doorway he saw
her as she knelt close to the window
pane-her curly head looked dark
against it, as the young curves OF her
shape seemed white as an angels, while
her voice had the sweetness of one, as
with eyes fixed on the pages she whis-
pered aloud the concluding line of his
last letter: Good night! good night
don't fear but that this and every night
| stand beside you; and when you fall
asleep, be sure that think you dream
of me.'
"Only good night" she said aloud, as
she folded the letter; II thought it had
been 'Good-by' yesterday"
She knew then, and it had broken
neither her heart nor her love;-he had
not understood her, and for the first
time it occurred to Mr.. Eyre whether
his passion for her were not out of some
proportion To its object; and yet it had
never entered into his calculations TO
give all, where less might have content
ed.
Suddenly she looked up and saw him
standing III the doOrway-Sllent, dark,
even terrible i'll the gloom--and for u
moment, IN that great grief OF won
der that almost touched fear, she had
not power 10 move, then ran TO him,
and as hts arms c.osed about her, real
lied wlaG lier l,fe must have been with
out HIM.