Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-04-27
NEARLY A TRAGEDY.


home"
1t was careless speech enough, and So
phie Wiltbank's voice was Indifferent in
tone, but her eyes, large dark eyes, full of
expression, scanned her companions face
closely.
She knew well that this one last errand
was the only aim and object of that drive.
though they had visited many different
stores and purchased quantities of goods.
She hoped Grace would ask her where
they were going, help her to draw down a
blow upon her cousins heart, that she
must give, and which she would yet have
given her own life almost to avert. But
Grace was day-dreaming, apparently, look
ing out upon the village streets as the car
rage drove toward the suburbs So Sophie
tried again.
Are you very tired ?' she asked.
No, indeed ! / was thinking Of Ern-
est"
Here was an opening with vengeance.
"Of Mr.. Copeland. He will be back
soon ?"
do not know. His brother is diving.
Who can tell how soon Or how late he
may come? Father heard in the city that
Mr.. Gerard Copeland is very rich. Per-
haps Ernest may have business to arrange
for him. For" with shy, pretty blush.
you know Mr.. Ernest Copeland is not
very rich"
So | have heard, Oracle" and Sophie's
voice trembles, " do you love him very
much p
Why, of course 1 do" the blue eyes
now very wide open. /" Are we not to be
married in September ~
Buff anything should prevent
What can happen 1t is August
now"
Then the carriage stopped
In moment, john Miss Sophie said
and John stood aside. But Sophie, LAYING
one little gloved hand upon Grace's, said
earnestly:
your"
Yes, know it, Why, Sophie, what
ails you?"
You know | would rather hurt myself
than hurt you"
| believe you would What is it ?"
She was trembling then, and all the
face, for Sophies eyes were misty, her lips
quivering.
Come and see," Sophie said. "And
on, darling, forgive me that ] must show
you.ns
She sprang out of the carriage and Grace
followed her. Two pretty maidens they
were, the daughter and the niece of the
great mill owner, Joseph Wiltbank. Grace
was his only child, Sophie, the orphaned,
penniless child of his brother
Grace's lover lived In the great city.
where the cousins often spent some of the
winter months with their aunt in fash
lonable clearinghouse. In one of the in
formal social gatherings to which they
were invited, Grace had met Ernest.
And Sophie, heart-whole, loving Grace
as yet above any one else on earth thought
OF IT all as she led the way across tiny
garden to mean little cottage, where a
woman stood in the doorway, holding some
sewing IN her hand. Two boys, of 8 and
., were playing in the garden.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Copeland" So
phie said very quietly, but watching Grace
herself as she heard the name rs the
sewing done?"
Well, no, Miss, not all of it. l have
tNO sulIlS uOnS.
| promised to bring my cousin to see
II she ifoi any work you could do"
Walk in" Mrs. Copeland said.
And Grace, following Sophie, entered
the little parlor. A cry rose to her lips,
but she said hastily:
| sprained my foot p and sat down Just
as Sophie prepared to catch her if she fell.
She could still see over the mantel piece
crayon head of Ernest Copeland
She saw that Sophie meant to draw the
womans attention from herself
I" think you told me you were not a
widow" Sophie said.
No, Miss. My husband deserted me.
was poor girl without education, and
he was a gentleman. But | believed in
his love and we were very happy till last
winter. Then he changed, and one day
he gave me some money to keep for him,
quite sum, and went away. lie never
came back, but he wrote TO me never to
expect to see him again. The money
lasted till now, but it is gone. | hoped /
could get work at the mill, and it's cheaper
living in the country; so / came here.
But Pm not strong enough for the mill
work, and it does not bring enough to pay
for some one to watch the children: so |
put out that sign" pointing to a board on
which was painted the legend: