The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1888-04-27

Lady 3 random lay on the couch, en-
crossed in a novel clear bright iire
was burning in the crate the warm air
was perlumed with the odor OF flowers
lie raised his haggard face as he read.
Great Heaven, what was he to do ? He
had almost forgotten the very existence
OF the child. She had faded from his
memory. His passionate love for her
beautiful mother was as keen as ever
as iull Of life as it had been on the first
day he met her; but the child he had
disiked; the child had cost her mother
her life Why had Assunta given her
that sweet, sad name OF ''Veronica"?
What was he 10 do with her when she
came lie looked at his handsome wife,
with her high-bred face and digniied
manner. he looked at his lovely young
daughter, and then bowed his head in
despair.
4 thought had pierced his soul. Dur-
ing all these years he had forgotten the
chill she had passed, rs it were out
OF his life; Assunta had taken her, and
Noltt'A Att u Alt4. nc lltt.A lA-AtA'NtA AAi0
help, She would have nothing from him.
She would take 10 omoncy, nor anything
else from him. She had told him that
he must wash his hands OF the child,
an hc hal done So If ever hc thought
about her, he concluded that she would
be brought up in entire ignorance Of
England and of him, that she would
marry some Venetian; but Of late he
had thought but little Of her, and dur
ing the past three or lour years she had
faded from lI;s mind.
So the letter was a terrible blow TO
him. lie asked himself what he should
do. for it had suddenly occurred to him
that Veronica was his eldest daughter,
and that shc-not the goldcn-haired girl
singing with the clear voice OF bird
was tle heircss Of Queens Chace, and
the thought pierced his soul like asl4arp
sword What should he do?
Ills FIRST impulse was to tell his story
then second thoughts came-he would
not OF al people living his wife was,
perhaps, the most unsympathetic; he
could not take the treasured love-story
from his heart and hold IL mp to public
gaze; lie could not have uttered the
name OF Giu.ia, nor have told how she
died, wlcn the sun was settin-, with
hcr head on his breast. 1t would have
been easier for him to tear the living,
beating heart from his breast than to
DO t.iis.
lie could imagine his wife's cold,
proud, han lsome eyes dilating in un-
mitigatel wonder; he could hear the
cold, grave voice saying, "What ro-
nance! Why have you hidden it all
these years." lie could anticipate the
sneers, the comments about the great
statesman's loye-story. All, If it had
but been possible for him to die with
her!
So he sat there musing, with As
sunta's letter in his hand. lie found
aiterward that ne had missed one para
graph, in which she told him that she
had prepared Veronica to live for the
future with her English guardian.
Sir Jasper Brandon suffered keenly.
He was an English gentleman, with
English notions OF right ana wrong. de
hated all injustice, all concealment, all
deceit, all fraud, all wrong-doing, all
dishonesty; yet he did not, on receipt
OF Assunlas letter, tell his wife and
daughter the truth. He said to himself
that he would come to no decision, that
he would wait and see what Veronica
was like.
you look peTpleXed and thoughtful,
papa" said Katherine Brandon. LET
me help you. Women's wits. they say,
are quicker and leener than mems"
at is a libel" he replied, trying TO
speak lightly. 81 may well look per-
picked, katherine am dismayed."
Lady Brandon closed her book and
looked at him.
To be Continued