Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-06

W Ctill dl Udll Nel Oil tiO way II W us
my intenti, to take with me large sum in
gold. Notes of any kind could be traced,
but the bright sovereigns would tell no tale
changed my check, AMI while doing SO
asked if there We're any letters for me. Sew
eral persons addrt ssed letters to me at my
bankers The spruce cashier sent to inquire,
and, with my bag of gold, passed under the
brass wire railing letter with woman's
handwriting on the envelope. l thrust it
into my pocket, to read at my leisure.
We travelled by the tidal train for Paris,
via Folkestone and Boulogne. 1t was not
the pleasantest weather in the world for a
Journey: but l wrapped my charges up
warmly, and did all I could to mitigate the
hardships of the voyage, undertaken osten-
sibly for the sake of my health. My mother
who was by now an experienced and
soned traveller, settled herself down to l.
tourney, although she little guessed HOW
short the rest l meant to give her until we
reached our destination. She laughingly
protested against the cruelty of dragging an
old woman like herself away from England
lust as she had returned to it; but there was
tina in her voice and manner which told ma
she would for my sake make a far greater
sacrifice of comfort than this.
thought Philippa's spirits, like mine, rose
as we leIU Lon ION Deul1lu us. one Sl1llleu az
my sallies and feeble attempts at making
merry, which, now chat We were fairly on
our road to safety, We're not quite 50 forced
as they had been during the last few days.
She listened with interest to the pictures
drew-imaginary ones, of course-of the
beauties of the south; and was glad to be-
lieve that the thought of visiting what
might almost be called her native land was
nx,11 LII
me be able to show her that life could still
promise a pleasant future, and the moody
memories of the past months might be ban
ished forever.
am sure that no one who could have seen
us that morning would have dreamed that
out of that party of three, consisting of a
comfortable, pleasant-looking English ma
iron, a strangely beautiful girl, and myself,
tho were flying from the hands of justice.
Our appearance was certainly such as to
disarm all suspicion.
"But where are we going?' asked my
mother. 81 object to go wandering about
without knowing where our pilgrimage is to
end"
1--WE are going to Paris first, then to Spain
to wherever we can find the warmth and
sunshine which is necessary to my existence.
If we can't find them in Spain, we will cross
over to Africa, ami, if need III go down to
the Equator
Then you young people will have to go
alone. [ draw the line of my good nature
at Europe"
l glanced at Phiiippa. Her long curved
lashes hid her eyes, but teltale blush was
on her cheek. | knew that the day was not
so very distant when she would answer my
appeal as I wished. l knew that, could |
but.sweep away the recor of that one night,
all might yet be well with her. Oh, that
she may never recall what l alone knewi
As We were nearing FolkestJnn l remem-
bered the letter which had been given me at
the bank. l drew it from my breast, in
tending to read it; but the sight Of the
Roding postmark on the outside made me
change my intention. | remembered Mrs
Wilson's half promise to send me some COM
munication. I longed and yet dr rdei to
break the seal l felt it would be better for
me to read that letter alone Whatever
might be the tenor of its contents. l was sure
it had some bearing on Pnilippa's relations
with Sir Mervyn Ferrand.
We were soon on board the steamer and
under way. Although the Arctic rigors of
the last three weeks had departed the air on
the sea was too keen to make the channel
passage an enjoyable one. l persuaded my
mother AMI Philippa tie take refuge in the
saloon, and then I ound quiet spot WHERE
was able to read my letter without fear o
interruption or of betrayins, myself by the
emotion its contents might cause 1t was
well did so, for the first words blanche1
my che elk. The letter began abruptly, so:
81 know or guess all. l know why ST,
Mervyn Ferrani did not reach my house
hot i0bt 7 l-po 1,a ho,,
strange excited state. know why she lief;
nv house before you came to seek her. l
know how be met with the death he de-
served.
"Ah! she is drawer than l am. She has
done what years ago I swore I would do;
and yet had not the COURAGE. l was base
enough TO forego revenge for the sake OF the
beggarly maintenance he offered me-for
the sake, perhaps, of my children. l sank
low enough to become his tooi-to do as lie
babe me, even to taking under my roof the
woman who thought herself his wife. Yes
she has been Drawer than l. But her wron rs
were greater than mine; for / had but my
self to blame for being in such a degraded
position that he could throw mo aside like
an old glove. He never married me.
Fear nothing for your sister, if she
your sister. Tell her my lips are sealed to
the death; and for the sake of her brave act
tell her this:
''Sir Mervyn Ferranl's first wife died on
the 18th of June. 1856, three months b fore
the day on which he married your sister.
She died at Liverpool, at No. 5 Silver street.
She was buried in the cemetery, un Ter the
name of Lucy Ferrand She has friends
alive. 1t will be easy to prove that she was
the woman whom he married Her maiden
name was King. He hated her They
parted. He gave her sum of money on
condition that she never called herself his
wife. He lost sight of her; l never dill.
For years I hoped she would die, and that
he would marry NO. She died too late for
the hope to be realized. I told him Of her
death: but l changed the date l would not
tell him where she died Part of his object
in coming to Roding that night was to en-
deavor to wiring the information from me-
He would never have had it. No othe!
woman should have been his wife SO long a.
could sop it.
"Now that he is dead, you can tell vour
srave sister that she m V, il she likes, lax
the name. title, and what wealth she can
cl~im. Fear nothing from me; l will lie
silent as death"