The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1884-11-13
A FATHERS CRIME.

shadows were darkeDlng the room
where he lay. but darker still fell the
attendant shadows of death.
Beside the couch knelt a girl of rare
loveliness of face and form, with feat
ures classically regular, with wavy jet
black hair coiled loosely round her
stately little head, few dainty tend
rils curling low on her pure white brow
"a girl whose lips We're curved and
| crimson, whose eyes Were like soft deep
wells Of light and whose form matched
| her face in its classical perfection.
At the lower end of the bed stood q
| young mana handsome man, with
| clear-cut regular features, and sunny
| chestnut hair clustering over his brow,
| and eyes that could darken with anger,
| deepen with mirth, or sadden with SYM
| pathy, as need might be.
Deep, true, earnest sorrow rested on
his face at this moment, as his eyes
looked thoughtfuliy down on the man
! who lay dying. His sorrow, however,
could not equal the intense grief of the
! beautiful face SO near the pillow press
ed by the dying man.
1t spoke well for Dalton Wthers that
/ grief and sorrow drew tears at his
!
| were neither kith nor kin to him-noth-
| ing, as far as the ties of blood count,
| but everything in love affection; for one
was his step-daughter, Beryl Edmonds,
| dear to him as a child of his own, while
Guy Courteney was his son by adop-
| ton.
Beryl was not only his step-daughter,
but she was the child of the first and
! dearest love OF his life, from whom fate
t had parted him in his youth.
On this same throw of fate hangs the
| thread of our story, for had it not been
for that love and loss, Beryl Edmonds
would not be kneeling at his side.
His first love, sweet Edith Barton.
! had been parted from him by false
story, told by most treacherous friend,
whom he had trusted and loved as a
! brother.
Edith was naturally of an easily-led
disposition, and believing the story told
her, married the teller in a sudden pas
sion of pain. Then Dalton, maddened
| by Edith's marriage, offered his hand
! and fortune to another, which were ac-
cepted.
Then Edith awoke to the knowledge
of what she had done-awoke to the
knowledge that Edison Marvin, the man
| she had married, the man who had won
| her by lies and fraud, was a rascal I'M
worthy Of any woman's respect or
love.
She and Dalton had grown up to-
| gether, with an old man who was I'M
! Gle to both, at least, uncle by marriage
to Dalton, though they themselves were
not related, and Edith had always
been looked upon as his heiress, being
his sisters child, while Dalton was on
| ly the child OF his wife's sister.
Angry at her marriage, however, for
it was his one wish to see her Dalton
| Withers's wife, he changed his will and
! left all he possessed to Dalton, but ifhe
died without heirs it was to revert to
Edth's child.
But, as we have said before, Dalton
wed as well, and a fragile baby-girl was
born to him at the very time girl was
/ born to his false friend. Edison Marvin.
DaltoG's wife died shortly after the
birth of her baby, and by an accident
III one Of the mills of which he was
owner his own life was almost despair
| ed of at the same time; in fact, the doe
tors had given him up.
|
! had-they were numerous indeed
want of love for his scornful young
wife, who had never loved him, and
now despised him for the part he had
| played, and for the baby-girl she had
borne him, was not among them, for he
adored her, and worshipped little Beryl,
and for her sake, and the wealth that
| should be her's-well, what would he
! not do
One day CONSERVATION reigned in
Dalton Withers's home, for little Leslie,
his petted child, had disappeared-his
| golden-haired treasure was gone.
| High up and low down he searched
| for her. but she was not found not
found, till, alas! when four long weary
weeks had gone, and then a little corpse
| hoated in on the silent river, the face
! past recognition, but wearing the dain
| tv garments, now water-stained and
ruined, of little Leslie Withers.
Edith's child, his child, little Beryl,
was Dalton's hciress now.
Shortly after, in the very prime of
his life, death came to Edison Marvin.
and when he was two Years in his grave
the lovers of old were married, for
Dalton had recovered from the acci-
! dent Then, when she was the wife of
| him she had loved all her life she
learned a secret of her first husbands $
| life that blanched her face with its
knowledge.
A letter he had left her to read if ev-
er she wed again. 1t seemed he felt, if
! ever she did, her choice would be the
| lover of her girlhOod, and he was pre-
pared to strike her a blow from the
! grave.
! What the blow was, she never told,
| but many bright soyereignS, counted
| and uncounted, she spent in the search
for some one--a weary, fruitless search,
alas!
All. DEATH how rich your harvest!
! Years are nothing wien counted by You,
! and one year before the opening of our
| story, Edith had died, and now her hus-
band was following her.
Her last words had been to Beryl,
who thought hcr raving. They were:
Find her-fnd nalton's child. She
| -she-her name now-ls-is-Car-
Car
That was her last word, an unfnish-
| ed one. but one Beryl understood later.
To 90 back now to the beginning OF
our story and the bedside OF the dying
man.
Raising up slightly. he took Beryl' 5
hand, and then Guy drew near.
You love each other he said.
God bless you.'
That was his last word, his last act
in life. One moment later his soul had
| passed TO its God. as the shades of
| night fell down The last scene of his
life had been one of kindness, as all
deeds of his life had been. He died a
neighbor unto all men.
Summer passed and winter came. and
| Beryl's engagement had not been made