Omaha daily bee., 1885-09-09
FAMILY AFFAIR.
BY HUGH CONWAY,
Author of SCALED Back and ozark Days
CHAPTER xxx CONTINUED.

safe.n
She sighed her relief. There was an
awkward pause. Frank was the first tc
break it.
beatrice" he said, III have come a long
way to see you. ] have much to say-you
may ha c much to say to me. Can we go tc
som place where we can talkT'
eyes, we can go to my home" Beatrice
called her boy, and Frank, glad of anything
TO break the awk%wardness of the moment,
greeted the little fellow and made friends
with him to such purpose that he insisted
upon Mr.. Carruthers holding his chubby
hand and walking with him.
"What a pity to cut hat bright hairin
said Frank to Beatrice.
''It was more than pity-it was cruel, but
it was cruel necessity" she said sadly.
Beatrice led the way to the house in which
| she lived. She walked with her head bent,
and as one in deep thought. She could not
make up her mind whether to be glad or
sorry at Franks coming. She saw, how
ever, that it put an end to her present mode
| Of life. That 1T meant confession, revealing
| Of everything. That it meant return TO
| England and to such friends as would still
be her friends. That if it meant shame and
sorrow, it also meant safety and immunity
from persecution. She began to regret that
she had yielded to Sarah's wish to go to Eng
land and see Hervey. But that was not Of
much consequence. She felt sure that as
soon as Carruthers learned her history her
affairs would pass into hands more compe-
tent to deal with them than the hands of two
weak women. So on the whole her feelings
were those of relief.
And yet for some, for one reason, Frank
was the last person she would have chosen
to whom to reveal her secrets. She shrank
from having to show the man she loved that
her life for years had been one of deceit.
| Now that the deceit had to be confessed to
him, it seemed to lose all the innocent ma
ture which she had hitherto f~lattered herself
it possessed. In short, if such a thing can
be imagined, Beatrice felt, as Carruthers
once felt her to be, as an idol would feel
when just upon the point of being hurled
down from its pedestal.
Carruthers, who had his own thoughts to
| trouble him, and to whom it seemed that
any conventional remarks would at the pres
| emit juncture be mockery, respected her
meditations, so that, save for the lisping
prattle of the boy, silence reigned until
| Beatrice found herself in her room with
| Frank sitting near her. 1t struck her as so
| strange that he of all others should be here,
that even now she wondered if she was
uIctillihS. eAO uillS LIZ " %, LculIuS W
| read reproach in them.
elbow are they all at homer she asked.
'How are my %uncles, and dear old Halle
wood?' Her eyes filled with tears. Her
emotioo did not escape Carruthers.
"They are all well,'' he said. 81 heard
from Herbert q few days ago. He sent me
your letter."
evil they ever forgive mer' said Bea.
trice. "Wil they ever speak to me againp'
81 hope sou said Frank gravely. ''They
were, of course, much vexed and upset.'
Beatrice glanced aS him nervously. Even
| he had but held out a hope IF forgiveness
and he loved her. She wished he had not
| come to Munich.
"Do they know my reason for leaving
| Englandg' she asked, timidly.
mo. They have hazarded many guesses,
but not one has been near the truth"
She started at his answer. The TRUTH
| Did he know the truths If so, how had he
learned its
"Do you know why l left?' she asked.
A look of pain settled on Carruthers' face.
eyes" he said, softly. 'Chance has
given me your story. But to me-only to
me-"
"Do you know all--Rn that I AVE done,
all that I have suffered2"
He rose. There was strange agitation in
his manner and voice.
"AIl!" he exclaimed. "Beatricel Bea-
trice! how can I find words to tell you what
I know2 Beatrice, did 1 not just now hear
that child call you motherT'
Eyes, he is my son." she said, calmly.
GAIL" continued Carruthers, excitedly.
'Need I know ala Need / be racked by
| hearing the one 1 love tell me ala Need l
pain her by forcing her to hear mel Have
1 not heard enoughi Why should l seek to
know moreF'
"Let me tell you my story, Frank" she
said, b~eseechingly.
"NoI" He spoke in that imperious tone
which she had once before, in a slighter de-
| gree, noticed. 'Nol Listen to me. Bea-
trice, believe me, 1 nave longed to find you.
l have sighed for this moment. If L have
surprised your secrets it was not for my
W ends. Beatrice, when chance showed
me where you were | came to you with but
one object. This morning-even when, at
last, / saw you, / had but one thought. 1t
was to come to you, to say l have sought
you because you are in distress, because
you want help. Such help as L can give is
yours. Without question, without the hope
Of reward, it isyours."
Again she strove to interrupt him. He
checked her.
"Listenl L have more, much more, to
say. L have seen you again." his voice
changed to one of supreme tenderness, II
have held your hands. / nave looked into
your face-the same sweet face of my
dreams. Beatrice, all is changed with me-"
he knelt beside her and took her hands. 'If
once l wished to know all, now | say, tell
me nothing. What is the past to me9 Hide
it away, forget 1t, scorn it. Our life begins
to-day. / love you. Send down and tell
me you will be my wife"
She forcibly drew her hands from his, COW
cred her eyes and sobbed.
"You love me-" he vent on, ~passionately.
SIS it for my sake you will not do this thing2
Look at me-read in my eyes h my heart
desires-know that you have the power of
making or marring a mans life. Beatricel
My love, my only love, answer mel"
Once more he tried to take her hands. She
tore them away with a cry of anguish, and
her fearful eyes rested ON his troubled, up
turned face.
"Frank," she said, ''you are killing me.
Spare me and let me speak,"
lie waited in anxious silence until her
sobs died away n sustained speech was a
possibility.
''Frank, Frank" she said. "You have
been misled. You have heard but hslf the
truth. You love me, yet dare to think that
If what you have heard is true / would be
your wife. l ann blame you for believ-
ing. / have no right to blame. My actions
have helped that belief. Yet in believing it,
you, Frank, nave given me the sharpast