The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1885-06-11


to xou; never could with those fingers"
"Then to whom:' l asked.
"We did not allot it to any one, il re.
member rightly. L brought it forward a:
an example," But thought he seemed
embarrassed as he spoke.
''Then what is there in mine that you
would not tell:" 1 demanded. ''Surely
may know"
! He paused.
'There was the absence of something
feared to find, and the presence of some
thing | hoped for, yet hardly dared hops
for, and the finding of which now fear.'
| / shuddered as he took my hand in hi:
and gazed very earnestly into my face.
could not meet those grave, almost sad
penetrating eyes. Then he sighed and
| turned away.
Its all rubbish, your palmistry,"
cried, as nervous tears started to my eyes
Il looked about my hand in a book, and
| found nothing to fear"
"You are probably right" he rejoined
"You do well not to be superstitious."
Ernest was very busy at this time, and
| did not get away from the city so fire.
/ quently as formerly. 1t was spring now
/ and with its beautiful promise of joyful
summer, felt cheered, for did l not i'm
agine that my happiness was approaching
with it:
DR.. Browne came and went; we were
| good friends, we spoke when we met. but
carefully avoided the subject of hands.
used to wish he would not look at me so in
tently; it almost frightened me; and yet
the better 1 knew him, the less there
seemed in him to fear. His kindness and
gentleness had gained him the hearts of
all his patients, and there was something
about him that seemed to impress one with
| the certainty of his great sincerity and
| trusUwOrthineSs.
| 1t was May: Ernest and l were to be
| married towards the end of June. l had
been receiving daily letters from him all
the winter and now two days had passed
and heard nothing. l was anxious, yet
would not allow myself to be so; he was
specially busy that was all; and there was
another delivery at eleven O'Clock. | sat
| in the drawing room, looking along the
| road, till l saw the postman appear. He
was walking on the opposite side till he ap-
preached our house, when saw him cross
and make straight for our gate. His hand
was raised to open it, l was jumping up to
run to the door, when man dashed along
the street and prevented him, few words
were exchanged-and the postman passed
on. The man was DR.. Browne.
was petrified.
"Wretch,n - muttered between my teeth,
"who now has proved himself the owner
of the false handw
paced the room in fever of indecis-
ion, then began to review the state of
things and decide upon plan of action. A
maid disturbed me thus occupied; my
father had sent for me in his study. went
down. He was walking about the room, an
unusual thing with him, and l could see he
was agitated.
"Well, Trixy," he began, with an as
sumed smile, 81 have something to say to
you. l was just thinking you have not
seen Aunt Judith lately; 1 hear she is not
well; now what do you say to paying her
a visit of a week or two:'
"Papa,"I cried, "what do you mean?
am so busy preparing. You forget IL is to
come off in five weeks"
He walked away towards the other side
of the room. "No, child, he continued,
with forced laugh. "You can not imag-
inc l have forgotten that; but you see. it is
just on that account that want you to go !;
married women are not free to go visiting.
Come, my dear, sewing will progress all
the better with good Aunt Judith to help.
Be prepared to start at three O'Clock, and
will drive you to the junction. Don't
bother about the house; you'd better not
go QUIT think perhaps it may rain," he
feebly added. "Now then, off with you. :"
He kissed me and l knew that there was
nothing left but to obey. L have very good
ears, and l am certain that l heard nv
father speaking to the servant as | went up
the stairs; he was telling her to admit no
one till | was gone.
Aunt Judith was my mothers sister, and
lived in bijou residence at Denmark Hill.
She always has been and still is my ideal
of an old lady. She received me warmly
and | thought almost unnecessarily kindly,
fussing about me good deal and looking at
me most sadly. The evening was chilly;
we sat together in the pretty drawing
room with its wealth of knick -knacks and
l felt as though L must do something to
occupy myself.
asked. 81 haven't seen it to-day"
"Never mind the paper" said Aunt
Judith, looking anxious; sit is upstairs.
Take Harper's; you don't see it at Stoke
bourne"
mo, Aunt Judith" exclaimed. "Why
am | not to see the paper, and why have |
been hustled off here in this unceremonious
manner? What does it all mean? There
is something that is being kept from me-"
For it suddenly flashed upon me that for
some reason or other the postman had not
been allowed to leave the paper as usual
by the eleven O'Clock delivery.
Aunt Judith came and put her arms
round me.
"Mv dear" she whispered, 81 hoped to
wait till tomorrow. Your father sent you
here because he had no courage: it ALWAYS
was Johns way" she added.
L soon learnt all about it. Ernest had
disappeared and there were considerable
discrepancies discovered between the cash
in hand and the cash that should be ac-
counted for. The books had been tamDered
with to no small extent, and the fraud had
been going on for some time. Hints were
dropped about fast companiOns and too
much billiard playing.
Aunt Judith CLOSED over these crimes to
the best of her ability, still cluging to the
hope that there might be some mistake, and
| stayed on and stayed on with her, going
a 10 in
thankful to my father for sending me
away; could not have borne to have seen
the home faces around me in nv sorrow
The summer passed-a dreary summer to
me. Aunt Judith took me to Folkestone
for month. and while we were there we
heard that Ernest was reported to have
been seen in America. He had run away
and there was no longer any hope of his
rigstiag himself in England.
81 September l returned to Stokebourne.
Ny father met me at the station, and that
evening DIR. Browne came to see me. He
was very kind aud gentle, and smiled when
l thanked him for having prevented nv
first learning the bare facts from the news
paper.
'sThat was an act of common charity.
Miss Fox, and so many months ago as to
be almost forgotten"
"Not by me-" replied.
We saw good deal of him
that autumn and winter, and l heard
from Miss Sedgewick wonderful ac-
counts of his endeavors to find
Ernest, and if possible save him from
further disaster. 1t was comforting to
have him in the study in the evenings.
got into the way of joining him and my
father there, and listening to their talk,
which was always enjoyable. l liked to
feel myself in the presence of such strong,
noble nature.
He came one night and nv father was
out. He entered the drawing-room where
L was seated.
"Do you know have been in Stokebourne
q vear1o ha asked