Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-02-08
CHAPTER III.
THE WAGES OF SIN"


were strangely and ine1tricably mingled.
CHAPTER III.
THE WAGES OF SIN"
MorningI No books; no idle, lisaess
hours for me to-day. Plenty to do, plenty
to think about; all sorts OF arrangements to
make. Farewell to my moody, sullen life.
Farewell to my aimless, selfish existence.
Henceforwsrd l should have something
worth living for-worth dying for, II needs
be! Philippa was coming To me to-day;
coming In grief, 1t is true; coming As . SIS
ter comes to brother. All! after all the
weary, weary waiting, shall see her to-day
Tomorrow. every day!
Although Philippa would grace my poor
cottage for one night only, had athOusand
preparations to make for her comfort. For
tunately had a spare room, and, moreover,
furnished one. Not that l should have
troubled. when went into my secluslon,
about such superfluity as q guest-chamber;
but As it happened had bought the house
and the furniture complete; SO could offer
my welcome guest fair accommodation for
the night.
summoned my stolid man. told him
that my sister was coming on . visit to me;
that she would sleep here tonight, but that
most likely We should 20 away tomorrow.
He could stay and look after the house un-
til returned or sent him instructions what
to do with it. William manifested no sur
prise. Had told him to make preparations
for the coming of my wife and five children,
he would have considered 1t all part of the
days work, and would have done his best to
meet my requirements.
He set to work in his imperturbable,
methodical, but handy way to get Philippa's
room in trim. As soon as this was done,
and the neglected chamber made cosy and
warm-l0oking, l told him to borrow horse
and cart somewhere, and fetch the luggage
from Mrs. Wilson's. He was to mention
no names; simply to say that he had come
for the luggage, and to ask if the lady had
any message to send.
William was away about two hours; then
he made his appearance with some boxes. l
was delighted to see these tangible signs
that Philippa meant to keep her promise.
Till that moment had been troubled by
something like the doubt that after all she
might, upon calm reflection, rescind the
resolution formed In her excitement. Now
her coming seemed to be . certainty.
Nevertheless, William brought no mes
sage; SO there was nothing for me to do but
wait patiently until she chose to cross my
threshold.
Although my pleasing lsbors Of love were
ended, was not left idle. There was AL
other task to be done to-day. set my teeth
and sat down, thinking quietly as to the way
In which 1t might be best performed. To-
20 tn far
that black-hearted scoundrel known as Sir
Mervyn Ferrandl
l consulted the time table. His letter
named no particular hour: but l saw that il
he carried out his expressed intention Of be-
ing here tonight, there was but one train
by which he could come; there was but one
way from Roding to the house at which
Philppa had been staying. He meant to
walk, his letter said; this might be in order
to escape observation. The train was due
at ROding at seven O'Clock. The weather
was cold; man would naturally walk fast
Mrs Wilson's house must be four miles
from the station. Let me start from there
Just before the train arrives, and 1 should
probably meet him about half way on his
Journey. 1t would be dark, but should
know him. I should know him among
thousand. There on the open lonely road
Sir Mervyn Ferrand, coming gayly, and in
his worldly cynicism certain Of cajOlinY,
buying of, or in some other way silencing
the woman who had in an evil day trusted
to his honor and love, would meet not her,
but the man who from the tr i sworn
that wrong to Philippa s. be more
than . wrong TO himself! He would meet
this man and be called to account.
ldesigned no murderous attack. But 1t
was my intention to stop the man on his
path; to confront him and tell him that his
villainy was known TO me; that Philippa
had Ned to me for aid; that she WAS now in
my custody; and that l, who stood in the
position Of her BROTHER demanded the So
called satisfaction which, by the old-fash-
ioned code of honor, was due from the man
who had ruthlessly betrayed a woman. Well
1 knew that it was probable he would laugh
at me-tell me that the days OF dueling were
over, and refuse 10 grant my request. Then
| meant 10 see If insults could warm his
noble blood; il my hand on his cheek could
bring about the result which l desired. II
this failed, would follow him abroad, cane
him and spit upon him in public places.
Truly, as said, had now plenty to live
for!
The hours went by, yet Philippa came
not. 1 grew restless and uneasy As the dusk
began to make the road. lp which l gazed
almost continually, dim and indistinct.
When the short winters day was over, and
the long dark night had fairly begun, my
restlessness turned into fear. walked out Of
my house and paced my garden to and fro.
blamed myself for having yielded so light
ly to Philippa's wish-her command rather
that should on no account fetch her.
But then, whenever did l resist wish,
much less a command, of hers? Oh, that i
had been firm this oncel
The snow-storm Of the previous evening
had not lasted lOng-not long enough TO
thoroughly whiten the world. The day had
been fine and frosty, but l knew that the
wind had changed since the sun went down.
1t was warmer, change which / felt sure
presaged heavy downfall Of snow or rain.
There was moon, a titful moon; for clouds
were flying across it, dark clouds, which
guessed would soon gather Conference and
volume, and veil entirely that bright face,
which now only showed itself at irregular
intervals.
The minutes were passing away. 1 grew
nervous and excited. Why does she not
come? My hope had been to see my poor
girl safely housed before Istarted to execute
my other task. Why does she not come?
Time, precious time, Is slipping by! In the |
hope Of meeting her, walked for some dis |
tance up the road. ''Why does she delay?''
groaned. Even now should be on my |
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