The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-08-16


ready TO grant anything rather than to let YOU
know my trouble, rather than that you should
feel ashamed of your wifes son. He is mine.
you know, my very own, my flesh and blood. No
dlshonor can touch him that does rot cast its
shadow upon me- | could not bring myself to
confess how he had fallen. If l had told you
anything must have told you all. 1 preferred
to keep my secret, and, in this one matter, to be
a hypocrite.
Poor Clare poor misguided Clare. Ash /
should have failed you, love. Why would have
stood by you and helped you if you had been the
mother of halfa-doZen scampish sons"
''Ah, you are so good! But wanted to spare
you all trouble and worry"
And 80 worried yourself ont of health and
spirits All wrong, Clare" said Sir Allan,
gently.
II tried. under these conditions, to do my duty
TO my wretched boy; tried to be his adviser and
and guide to put him in an honorable way of
| hfe gave him the means Of living as gentle
man; the leisure to cultivate the profession of
| his choice | refused no request he made me. |
lent willing ear to his promises of amendment.
| All IN vain. He was a drunkarG and gambler
| his vices were ingraned in nina hideous
hereditary talnt-the leprOsy of sin. When he
| stood before me that night, threadbare, down at
the heel, haggard, degraded knew that he had
| fallen to the lowest depth of moral and phys
| lcai ruin His shaking hands and restless man
ner told me too plainly that he was sufferer
| from his fathers old disease, the brandy
| drinkers fatal fever. He had so suffered
| before. as | knew He had hardly emerged
| from boyhood when he was first attacked
| by that horrible complaint. l knew all this but
| did not know that he could be mad enough or
| wicked enough to attempt murder. He told me
| of his courtship of Grace-admitted that he had
passed himself off as a Frenchman, was daring
| enough to talk about claiming the fultillment of
| her promise directly she came of age He asked
| me for large sum of money, which / refused;
| and, while / absent from the room. he
| opened the Japanese cabinet where you had put
| the notes.-the must have seen you from the bal
| cony-aud was IN the act of making off with
| them when you entered"
| II understand" muttered Sir Allan. ut was
the money then that made him desperate. HAD
| forgotten all about that money"
Other people did not forget. Miss Darnel
brought detective from London, and he put
whole story together"
Dora brought detective here, and without
| my permission" exclaimed Sir Allan. 'She
brought the police into the house while | was
| lying unconscious here! That rather wide
! stretch of her authority as my sister"
I'VE were all so anxious about you, dearest"
| murmured Grace. Il daresay it was Aunt
Doras anxiety which made her send for the de-
| tective."
81 don't think the whole of Scotland Yard
| could have done very much towards saving my
| life, Grace. 1t would have been more sisterly of
your aunt to have postponed her inquiries till L
was able to sanction them"
She could not have guessed that the thief
was my son and Graces suitor," said Lady Oar
mel. Happily for the man from Scotland
Yard was begued by a false scent, and my
wretched son is still at liberty. God only
knows where he is, and what we may next hear
of him"
Nothing bad, hope, mother" said Grace,
| 'for the Colonel has undertaken to look after
him, and as had very CHEEKY letter from the
dear old man this morning, have no doubt he
has managed everything admirably Would you
mind his coming here now, fathers | am dying
| to hear what he has done
Eyes, Grace, you can send for him now"
Az, lo1-
and Allan Darne and his wife were alone for
| little while. Alone, and side by side, full of
trust in each other, just as they had been before
the crime which for a little while had wrapped
| their lives in black cloud
'Ah, Glare, what besotted idiot-what
ruffian have been to you, said Sir Allan, lifting
his wifes hands to his lips what snail l do
to atone for my brutality"
Get we'll and strong as fast as ever you can.
dearest, and let start upon that delicious
journey to the italian lakes And-yes-there
is one other favor l would like to ask you"
There is nothing you can ask, love, which I
will not grant
Il think Allan. when we come back to Darnel
it would be better for your sister to find home
elsewhere do not believe that she and | can
ever be quite happy and at ease under the
roof, for have an idea that she detests me-"
And upon my honor, Clare L believe you
are right. My sister was very good sister
as long there rival to dispute or share
her influence; but she is fond of power, she was
proud of her position as mistress of Menlo Park,
and she has never honestly forgiven me for
marrying again. | believe that. in q lady-hke
way. she has contrived to prejudice good many
| of my old friends against my wife. She
shall find another home Clare. You and l will
| have nothing but sunshine in our domestic
| lives Yo don't mind, Grace, do you? Grace is
| devoted to you
And 1 am devoted to Grace. shall be very
sorry when we are obliged to part with her Oh,
| Allan, while we are still alone tell me that you
can forgive the trouble / have brought upon
you through my unhappy son-poor Grace's en-
tanglement-that terrible wound which has
mperiled this dear life. If you had never
known me these things might not have hap
pened."
IF had known you l should have
missed knowing true happiness. We must take
the with the sweet. the thorns with the
roses, dear love. Life is made so. AS for Grace.
she is fine impusive creature, created to get
into mischief of some kind in the flush of youth
and folly. like a roe caught IN a thicket And
she might have met your scampish son in the
Louvre all the same had never met you
Hardly, Allan for it your money that
gave him the means of living in Paris
| Here comes the Colonel" said Sir Allan
| Grace came gaiiy into the sick room, bring
| ing her Indian warrior, whose fine benevolent
| cOuntenance Deamed with kindly feeling.
My dear Allan, this is a change for the bet
| ter. Lady Darnel, | congratulate you" he said
| as he sank into the chair which Grace wheeled
| forward to the hearth Il was very sorroy to
| lcdNo bdIHel WulG you were III SuC0 a CPlI1Cdl
state; but had some particular business in
! town"
You can speak before father and mother;
they know everything about Monsieur de Ca
| mlac.
| II am very glad of that, Grace. First and
foremost, then, there are your letters said the
Colonel, handing her sealed packet. You can
| count them by and by, and see if they are all
| right. And there is letter from the young man
| whose name is no more Camillac than it is
| Stukely"
| 'Grace knows his real name now" said Clare.
| 'The deuce she does" cried the Colonel Its
| more than do. for believe the fellow has half
a dozen aliases. However Grace knew the man
| as Camillac, and as Camiac he writes to her.
| renouncing all claim upon her. acknowledging
| that he was altogether unworthy of her girlish
| confidence, and that be obtained her promise