The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1885-05-08


name to be thus dis.,..lcl Alas he
had already permitted the police to
examine the different handwriting of
the clerks, and mine had been selected
as the imitation of has own. And they
were still i'll the ballding, ready to
pounce upon him who had forged the
bill.
Robert was pale now. He had not
calculated upon my firmness; he had
depended on my fight. He implored
me now to secret myself but | was
obstinate. When my voice was raised,
he entreated me to lower it, and pointed
to the other room. In my desperation
flew to the door, opened it, and,
strong in my innocence, l said, Il am
here to answer to my good name. My
brother wishes me to 60 away, but why
should II ] am innocent, aud will bide
the result
How is this, Mr.. Bernardo" asked
one of them. Did you seek to deprive
the law of its just prays You who
were so eager just nowl'
Robert wiped his eyes. l do believe
the men gave him credit for brotherly
affection and sympathy. But he had
shown it too late. | was taken away
Immediately and put in confinement.
And Olive would hear of my trouble
from strangers And how OH how
would she bear it? So near our great
happiness and now!
There was no hope 1t was useless
pentant as he must have been, could
not save me now. The bill was too
faithful transcript OF my writing. No
other clerk wrote i'll imitation of Roberts
hand; and my counsels suggestion that
Mr.. Bernard might have written it him
self was considered too monstrous to
have a moments sway with the court
My poor Olive! alas, she had no
one but myself to care for her But
there was deeper grief even than this.
The blow was struck by the hand of
my 6lOtter?---for l could not but doubt
that Robert had done this He hoped
and believed that the witness of his
guilt would pass unsuspected; but in
case it should not, the responsibility
must not in any case fall upon him.
l was in prison five years. Three
of these Olive visited me often. The
fourth, she was wearing away to another
land; and, before its close, she died.
What cared / then to live? L would
not have raised my hand for a release
from prison. Another year went on, L
never heard from Robert, not even
when my Olive died. 1t would injure
his responsibility to show any sympathy
with forger.
Well, the day OF release came | was
Indifferent to its approach. | even
fingered after I WAS told that 1 was free
to go. At length l walked out once
more into world which had taught me
such bitter lessons ! hurried out of
town, and sought my old home the
home which had been shrined in my
heart as a picture for five long dreary
years. l threw myself upon my Olives
grave. knew where to find it, for she
had selected the spot years before.
Even this scene did not melt my
heart. was hard and cold still. Olive
sweet life had been sacrificed; and mine
oh, what bitter, bitter Offering had
been made of mine to him who had
made it SO dark
With this thought came one of deep
fierce revenge. What right had he
were he twice my brother to throw this
shadow and darkness over me? Had
my mother known how he would repay
my devotion to her wishes, would she
have counselled me to keep back his
dark Deeds and sacrifice myself and my
family to him?
l do not know how | reached the
suburban town where Robert had always
resided since he left my mothers roof
He was bachelor, living alone, except
for an aged woman who took care of his
household matters. To this day never
knew what streets / passed through to
his dwelling but l know that was
filled with a fierce ungoverned revenge.
l found myself in the dusk of the
evening opposite his house. A dim
light burned in one room where the
window was slightly raised. 1 deter
mined to go in, and charge him with
the forgery and 1 had some uniformed
idea about denounoing him to the life
he had cursed me with so long Or
worse still-the dreadful thought of
killing him on the spot.
Let me here acknowledge all my guilt
did think of this. How madly | strobe
across the street and entered the house
l went directly to his room. Gu a
couch, pale, haggard, and emaciated,
lay the wreck of my brother, once a
noble-looking handsome man. He was
praying when 1 pushed open the door,
but his voice was weak and low still 1
caught enough to know that he was
asking forgiveness for the injury he
had done to me. Over his couch hung
my mothers picture. A sad, sweet look
such Us had haunted me five years in
prison pervaded the face and Roberts
had softened down from its proud, hard
expression into resemblance of hers.
That look arrested my up-lifted hand
which l had raised to strike him, so wild
and terrible were the feelings | held
towards one who had thus poisoned my
whole life. But when / saw that look,
so like my dying mothers, | felt sure
that he was dying too. 1t. softened,
disarmed me.
A moment after he discovered me. I
cannot describe his CRY it was like
nothing earthly. As he reached out
his thin, emaciated arms towards me
all my anger melted. / saw, not the
villain who had thus wrought the evil of
my life, but the wretch who was wearing
out his own in sorrow for the past. All
my mothers teachings occurred to me
rs if spoken by her living lips.
All that he had dono had been for the
hope of winning Olive Stoughton's love.
He did not givo up The hope until he
heard of her death, aud knew that she
died Of griet ior me. Oh, the shame,
the agony, which his confession en-
bodied Sickness had shown all his