Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1884-11-30

hattering little ietters. cnronicnns lEo uSty
adventures OF Aerself and the child--ot
their harmless. innocent, happy life. which
eheered and helped me through the long
weary DAYS, for | was weary. The heat
nearly killed me; hadn't soul to speak
70, and but for those fond. foolish, dearly
urized letters OF hers believe should have
knocked MP Some time on The Governor
passed through our station on his way from
The hills. and Of course we all turned out in
our bess 20 receive him. He was an old
friend Of my fathers and greeted me very
warmly. though, as | could not help fancy
ing, anxioasiy.
Where's your wife, Frank
AT the hills. sir; couldn't keep her
and the child down here through the heat
why didn't you go up with them
theuT
Il remained silent didn't care to con-
ICES that money had stood in my way, for he
knew nv means as well as did
Are you hard up. lad2 Shouldn't be,
nf course; but Young men viii be young
men, and | suppose you thought every wish
Of your pretty wifes mnSt come true' noS'
lad you look seedY enough for anything.
Take q months leave, and be Oh to the
hills and look after the wife and the child.
III be banker.
Touched by his kindness, I explained to
him that had money now, but could not
leave nv work. undertaken TO refill my
empty purse. He still insisted on my go
inc 70 the hills, aud by his determination
oyercame every obstacle, and soon was en-
route.
Nov can see the cause Of his anxiety.
Then | referred it simply to my health.
which was honestly in as bad a way as 1t
looked, and thought be packed me of for
that reason. The journey did me good l
was in wild spirits; | was going TO see my
wife and the child, and / had Clares last
letter put into my hands as | started, tuli OF
loving regrets over my absence, and OF
bright antieipa,ions of our meeting on her
return from the hills. had sent word OF
nv change ofplans. and amused myself on
nv iourney with thinking over her pleasure
Al nv coming, and With reading over her
letters. and, fod that IVES, kissed over
and over again the likeness which rested IN
locket next me- heart. God help me! II
hangs there yet Look; there's the face
that beguiled ne. DO you wonder so much
now at my infatuarion?
So saying he drew q loCket from his
breast, and, opening it, showed me the poE-
trait Of young girl Perfectly beautiful 1t
certainly was not. but could fancy tha
dainty face. With its dark eyes dancing with
iun. its pale, ruby lips, and bright expires
sion. set in a frame Of golden brown hair
might be thousand-fold more bewitching
than statuesque perfection. ! said as much.
Yes" he went on; there she is. poor lit
tie witch, Thank God May has not one
feature Of hers, should hate the child /
think, if she had. Well, pushed on rap
idly, ard reached my destination next even
rug. Nobody met me that | knew on the
rad but one man, and he seemed aghast a.
,eting me. 4 Few minutes brought me to
The home bad so carefully prepared for
nv darling. II Was to the full as dainty a.
| Hnd wished 1t to be-eyen in my haste !
noticed that but all was still. aud dissP
continent came over me as 1t flashed
across me that my letter announcing N :
coming had miscarried, aud that Clare WAS
away. At this moment a childs cry struck
me, and hoping to get some information
from the avsh, followed the sound. In a
bedroom, alone, lay child-miue, with no,
soul in the house with it, caught it 10
nv arms, aud tried to still its cries aud it,
tears while looking Esinly for the nurse. A
light step on the vcrands made me turn. and
there stood the wife oS an old friend Val
Temples wife, in short.
20 Major Gwynne! Are you here?
Captain DashwOod-the man | had met OIL
the road-told me Of your arrival, and !
hurried over TO warn to stop YOU
II suppose my face scared her, for she
stopped. Ny wife! Where is Clare? Is
anything wrong?
she caught the child from my arms-it
was quiet now-aUd lail it on the bed
then turned, and with gentle force pushed
me into a seat.
The story WAS soon told. Ny wife had
| fed that day with one whom till tina. hour
| had trusted as a brother Alarmed by
! cly unexpected coming. and knowing how
/ short a stay would suffice to enlghteG me
aS to the kind of 'grass-widowhOod' she had
! led (alas for those letters, she had fled
! leaving her child to its fate and me, who
would have risked body and soul for her, tc
nv misery.
Well, itsno use making long story o.
il Twenty.four hours up there taught M
| how well meant had been the old chief
kindness. broke up the establishment
The pretty Arabs had carried their runaway
mistress and her lover the FIRST 'stage!-anC
gave the child to the kindly care OF Val
| Temples good little wife, who took her hons
| 10 England With her own, and gave her ovel
20 my dear old mothers charge, where sh'
has been ever since. left the service, auc
the life have lived since then-Heayeu
help me.-you know pretty well. o
| Clare never saw more, She aud her com
| panion lett India. traced them to Italy
but there lost sight Of them A few 5ear,
| since heard casually that he had turned
| up in England alone; had married. settled
down, and diedin tho odor of responsibility
| but Of Clare's fate no, word
There, that's my story, and the explsna
ricn Of why left tho service | so dearl,
/ lived. which | have often heard you ani
Others wonder over. What, are YOU going
Well. good night dear old fellow; dom
think the worse Of me for this dreary yarn
You've done me good, though I'll have 8
siifish time beforeits much use in my turn
ing in. worse luck"
Ash passed into the street one Of thost
figures only too common in all large town
was crouching in the porch A policeman
coming by babe her move on" aud as th'
poor creature fitted further into the dark
ness, | recognized her "a the woman VIII
had echoed Gwynne's words sostrangely al
the carriage door. Somehow the face
seemed familiar to me in an uncsnny
strange way; but il was not till next day
realized that it Was faded, famine-stricken
version OF the tsce in Gwynn's lockeL
| On fare.
L. Ill