Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1886-02-11
The COLONEL'S SECRET.

little more than two years ago, when
the Jesse James gang and other organized
bands of train robbers and desperadoes were
being wiped out pretty rapidly throughout
Missouri, l was still, notwithstanding years
of conscientious study and ambitious
dreams, nothing more than locally popu-
lar stock-actor in st. Louis, with little
prospect of sudden, high-vaulting adj
vancement in the profession.
However, both Mabel and were in fine
spirits. At last she could fulfill her VOW of
residing once more under the long-deso-
lated roof-hee of her family homestead
before marrying, and was soon to be the
fortunate possessor of her hand, as had
long been of her heart.
Mabel was not an actress, though her
father, Colonel Dearborn, had made his
fortune as theatrical manager, and her
earliest associations had been allied with
the realities and traditions of the stage.
Our marriage engagement had been a
peculiar one.
Five years previously, Colonel Dearborn's
elegant country seat, occupying COM
manding but isolated position on the Iron
Mountain Railroad, had, during the family's
temporary absence, been attacked, sacked
and dishgured by mounted robbers, pre-
sumably of the James band. The despera-
does for the time being had full swing, and
the communities thereabout were wholly
TeErOr1zGeu.
Exasperated at the failure of the author
tiles to suppress the outlaws and protect
law-abiding citizens, the old Colonel had
but once revisited Glenwood, as the place
was called, and then taken up his residence
in st. Louis, there to remain until more
settled times.
He was accompanied by Mabel, his
motherless child, then lovely girl of six
teen, and by his sister, q maiden lady of
uncertain age, who had also been an actress
of prominence in the old days of Ben De-
bars New Orleans and st. Louis manage
ment Mabels mother had died in bring
ing her into the world and this lady, Miss
Winslow, had nobly and conscientiously
filed the maternal place.
Colonel Dearborn had known me from
my childhood, both my father and mother
having filled professional positions under
his management. He now welcomed me
as a visitor to his city home. l was soon
ON terms of intimacy with the transplanted
household. The latter was further in
creased about this time by the arrival of
the Colonel's nephew, Clifford Wharton, n
young, strolling actor of about my own
age, but of cloudy and presumably disrep-
utable antecedents, from somewhere along
the Arkansas border.
But the old managers cherished hope of
at last ending his days in the peace and Sc
clusion of his beloved Glenwood was cut
short by an interference as seldom pro-
vided for as it is vaguely feared. Sudden
death by an apoplectic stroke carried him
off just as the moral atmosphere of the
robber-infested interior was clearing up,
and he was beginning to think of return
ing to his estate.
ed to his death h-bed, but reached il, accom-
panied by his physician, barely in time to
receive his last sigh. We found only his
daughter present, Miss Winslow being alb
sent on brief visit. Mabel was terribly
agtated, and had evidently received some
important communication from her father
before the fatal stroke had deprived him of
speech. The dying man managed to shake
his head hopelessly, as the physician APP
preached, though upon perceiving me his
face lighted up.
BY great effort, he seized his daughters
hand and mine, and joined them together
across his body.
"All leave is hers, and she is yours"
he gasped. "You are executor-you will
see to eyerything!" Then, turning his glaz-
but impressively, "Remember!" after which
he breathed his last.
Ny own sense Of bereavement was great,
for had come to regard Colonel Dearborn
as my best friend. But this sense was re-
lieyed by what had just taken place, for,
though l had not concealed my growing
passion for his daughter, / had not yet
ventured to ask him for her hand. But this
closing act of his life had mt once dissi-
pated my doubts, and as l was already sure
of Mabels heart, led me to believe that
she would become my wife after the uusal
period of mourning should have elapsed.
As | led her, weeping, from the cham
Der of death, saw her cousin, Clifford
Wharton, cross the passage from the vicin-
ity of another door leading out of the
same room. This gave me an impression
that he might have been an unperceived
witness of the interview between the old
manager and his daughter before my ar
rival with DIR. l.. However, / thought
little of this at the time, for, though did
not like Wharton, and knew that his uncle
had never fully trusted him, had no rea-
son to doubt his sincerity. Nevertheless,
as he went by us in the passage and down
the staircase, without Mabel having noticed
him, he started from his attitude, which
had signifed both grief and terror, and
threw me glance of such malevolence and
triumph that / was both puzzled and
placed on my guard, for it was not un-
known to me that he had strenuously
essayed TO make love 10 his cousin before
her preference for me had been so plainly
indicated as to leave him without a shadow
of hope in that direction.
j left Mabel mt the door of her chamber
in charge of Miss Winslow, who had Just
got back home to learn the sad intelligence.
After sending away the frightened SER
wants, who had assembled on the staircase
landing, and saying something to soothe
their fears, / was returning TO the death
chamber, when l met DIR. L. coming
out of it, with something troubled and
stern in his face.
81 don't understand Colonel Dearborn's
DEATH" said he, taking me into recess.
at seems that Mabel found him lying
speechless on his bed, grasping cup that
had held composing draught, which he
had kept in readiness TO take upon feeling
the dangerous symptoms against which he
had been frequently warned. He had Just
drunk off the contents, aud was yet past
help when you and we're summoned. This
is what do not understand"
"Pray explain, said /, anxiously.
"Jhe stroke he received was not necessa-
rily fatal in ITSELF" said DIR. L.. "The
comDosinQ drauQht must have relieved IL