The Penn's Grove record., 1884-08-30

N1 nboNAb va W. " ~
She was living in Southsea, joining in
all the fashionable amusements of the
place. The worst came at last-she
forged my uncle's name. My father
returned home, to find me, a poor little
neglected child oftwo years, living with
my nurse, who supported me as well as
she could out of her own scanty earn
ings, and his wife in Milbank Prison,
a convict for life She died there a
few years ago., 1 saw to-day the letter
from the chaplain who had attended
her, referring to it all, aud to her dis
graceful end. And now you know
all"
She had hurried in broken sentences
through her narration, but, in her con-
scientious desire to conceal nothing had
given each painful fact without any at
tempt at excuse or prevarication. When
she ceased speaking, she still stood as
she had done all the while, her head a
little more erect than usual, her hands
cl 4sped. and her eyes fixed upon his
countenance, as if she could read his
very soul. She saw the start Of horror,
the involuntary movement of reyulsiOn,
as she proceeded with her story, and al
ready she read her fate. The future Sir
Reginald Townley might condescend to
marry Captain Gascoyne's beautiful
child, but not the daughter of a convict.
motherl The tale would surely leak
out at some time, and the disgrace
would fall, if not upon his own head
and Ada's, yet to a certainty upon their
children Her rare and bewitching
loneliness, which had first Won his
fancy and led him to propose for her in
opposition to the wishes and ambition
of his family, even this seemed to fade
away and grow less beneath his stern
and Mortified gaze.
AS he continued silent, with averted
face, she summoned all her little remain
ing strength, poor girl-and it was so
little !
"Mr. Towniey," she said-and her
voice, with a ring of pathos in it, had
never sounded more sweetly--''it was
but Just and right that you should hear
all | have told you. You need now, |
| see, no further answer to your letter
and | am willing'-hOwhe her voice trem-
bled, though she continued bravely i
that we should both forget that that
letter was ever written. And now will
you please take me to my father Z"
She grew so deadly white that he
thought she was going to faint, and
would have flung his arm round her to
support her. But she saw what his in
tention was, and, without a word more,
proudly turned and walked back stead
lily along the path they had come.
But, all unknown to Reginald and
Miss GascOyne, there had been an I'M
seer and unsupported listener to their
conversation. On the other side of the
thick double row of e trees that lined.
the broad walk, and the fragrant foliage
of which descended to the very ground,
there was another wide avenue, directly
overhanging the river and leading down
to the waters edge, with seats at inter
walls along it to make the retr~9t still
m0pnaLJlacGlYe. On one OF these easy
benches the great man of the day-the
Earl Of Ravenscliffe-had i'll lazy soil
tude been loungiDg away half the hours
of the fete expressly given in his honor.
He was a college-friend of Reginald's,
and it was his first visit to Town.ey
Hall. =
Here, after his own fashion, he vas
enjoying the summer afternoon,
stretched at full length i'll indolent con-
tentment upon the rustic bench, and
taking in with a true artists pleasure
the view of the river flowing smoothly
at his feet and the magnificent chain of
mountains rising proudly beyond, when
Ada's tender, sweet, pathetic, thrilling
voice first fell upon his ear. His i'm.
pulse "a to rise and go away but
there was some fascination in the clear
sweet tones-so musical and so sad
which chained him to the spot. He
could not distinguish the speakers
through the leafY screen but Townley
he recognized at once, and Ada's words
betrayed herself. He had never seen
her !; but Reginald had been eloquent
In his description of her only the night
before, as the two men sat together in
the smoking-room, And now her true,
fearless way of relating her mother 8
history, notwithstanding the evident
pain it cost her, awoke all the chivalrous
homage of his nature.
"What an ass the fellow is !" he eX-
claimed, almost aloud, as he heard them
walk away and a slight opening in the
trees revealed for a moment Ada's tall
graceful form. "What a mean dishon-
orable coward l And, by Jove, the girl
is the Quickest and most truthful ever
met Most women would uever have
told what skeleton lay in the cupboard.
And he has Tilted her, the scoundrel,
just because she was honest and con-
fessed It'll Why, if the woman | had
made up my mind to marry came to me
and showed such a love Of truth and
honor, | should feel only ten times
more proud to make her my wife But
| am glad for her sake that it's all over
between them. Tcwnley was never
worthy Of her. l felt that IN hearing
the first word she spoke"
A quarter of an hour later Ada was
standing by her father, longing for the
time to come when she might return
home without causing any remark by
her too early departure, but meantime
making IN effort to display at least some
languid interest in the tennis game in
which she had resisted all invitations to
JOIN, when old Sir John Townley APP
nrn a0had har uith a Strannlr