The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1889-12-21

Bethie threw open the blinds, letting in a
flood of silvery moonlight, and sat down by
the easement.
Outside in the soft light lay the broad
fields Of the homestead, wind-swept and
gray in the slumbrous night.
Somehow, always when the moonbeams
slanted through the great boughs Of the
chestnut and the wind murmured as it did
tonight, she could see white face uplifted
to hers in appeal, and could hear an an
guished voice calling out of the buried
branches to her: Don't send me away,
Bethel don'tl don'tr'
And the sweet words of forgiveness
which should have been said were not ut
tered. No; her soul was dumb and her
tongue silent, and Chester Kimball slipped
away in the dusks, and out of her life for
ever.
Her lip quivered and a hot tear fell on
her hand. o, these days of bitter COM
Function and useless regretl
"Behold, your house IS left unto you DESC
late"
Yes, that was the way i had been with
her. Since that awful night that sepa-
rated their lives the black tide of trouble
had set toward her path with terrible ven.
geance.
The angel of death had knocked at the
Grange three times, and father, mother
and sister had gone at the summons out
across the dark river. And now, indeed,
her house was left unto her desolate!
Then menacing silhouette crossed the
moonlight and shut out the present. Once
again she seemed to hear that strange
noise in the library at dead of night. Once
more she went down and found, not a
burly burglar, but Chester Kimball, rum.
maging among her fathers papers. Again
she clutched his arm with cry of horror.
OF the scene that followed. God Of mercy
and compassion, why were hearts made
with such a capacity for suffering SO!
Dropping a roll of bank notes Chester
had turned upon her fiercely; the next in
slant he sank back to the wall, hiding his
white face in his hands.
Dumb as the dead after that first cry,
Bethie restored the money to its place and
arranged the papers properly. WAS it an
awful DREAM" she kept saying to herself,
"'or was it reality?"
Then he had chung to her, piteously beg
.ging her mot to think him thief" "My
great love for you, Bethie, tempted me this
once; you know you said that you would
never share my lot as long as had nothing
more than Willowbrook cottage? o, Bethie =,
He staggered back as he ended, but she
only said: ''You should not have done this
thing" with white lips, never noticing his
agoniZed face. ut is high time you were
going, Chester Kimball," and she glanced
toward the open window through which he
had made his entrance.
He shuddered and held out his hand.
E'Forgive me, won't you, Bethiea" he
pleaded; "you have always had home and
loved ones, and have never felt loveless and
alone as 1 have. 1t was thoughts Of you
that led me to this dishonesty. Won't you
forgive me, Bethel"
But Miss Stevens did not speak; her
tongue seemed cleaving to the roof Of her
mouth.
"Well, never mind" he said; 81 don't de-
serve it, and might have known, too, that
Bethe Stevens would not forgive-a thief"
Another moment and he was gone. She
closed the window and crept back to bed
stunned, and conscious only of terrible
pain in her heart and that great gulf had
opened its black depths between her lovers
pathway and her own.
But the other night was just such night
as this, when the last plea for forgiveness
was dashed to the ground.
"Don't send me away, Betbie; for Gods
sake, 6en't!" But she had only motioned
him away and-he obeyed; that was the
end. He never came again, and in few
days after left the neighborhood.
The chasm had widened in awful chaos, and
Willowbrook cottage was desolate and 60
ing to ruin.
Had she crucified charity and dealt with
out wisdom? o, three years of compunctlonl
But why did she feel so strangely to-
MI -, 4bo