The Republican., 1890-09-26

of spectacles. For an ignorant country
girl, she seemed singularly quick and
smart in the performance of her house
hold duties, In week Mrs. Whitney
had voted me treasure. In a month
mad sized up every member of the
household, and come to the conclusion
that Samuel Whitney was one of the
greatest villains the world had seen in
long while.
II had discovered that my uncle was
completely in the power of Mr.. Whit.
ney and his wife. They alone attended
to his wants and gave him his medi.
cine. Not another living soul, except
the doctor, was permitted TO approach
him. Once to my great Indignation l
heard my mothers name mentioned by
the sick man. He had evidently been
frequently in the habit of asking for
his sister.
"'Why does not Mary come and see
me?' he was asking.
81 have written to them several
times, replied Whitney.
The liar! Almost | had a mind to
tear aside my disguise, rush in, declare
myself and comfort him.
And have spoiled every thing. My
uncle had never seen me. While
Whitney would have been fluttered at
first, he would have soon recovered
himself, and | should have been igno-
miniously thrown out of the house.
"'Take some more of this medicine,
| heard Whitney saying.
"'No, no! No more of that. Medicine
won't save me. don't like that stuff,
Samuel. l think it does me more harm
than good
"A new light broke in upon my brain.
had heard of such things, but dis
missed the idea as too utterly improba,
BILE. Whitney could never be re-enact-
ing in the nineteenth century the crime
peculiar to the age which produced the
Borgias-he could not be slowly killing
this man by poison.
But though | dismissed it the idea
returned to me with tenfold force that
night as l lay in my narrow cot. AL
though it was long past midnight, !
could not sleep. 1t was very close, sui
try night. | arose and opened the door
of my room to have more air.
LAS | did so | caught the sound OF
voices.
"'What was that?' 1t was Mrs. Whit
ney who was speaking.
Nothing, replied her husband.
"'But l heard noise
lit is nothing, l tell you; rats OF
something like that. Go to sleep
The Whitneys were lying in bed,
awake, and their door was open. Beyond
it was the room of the sick man. An il.
resistible desire to hear further prompt.
ed me to steal softly from the room into
the passage way. My foot caught in
the mat. | could hear Mr.. Whitney
raise himself up in bed.
who's that" he called out.
"My heart stood still for moment.
It's Emma, sir! replied.
"'What are you doing out in the pas.
sage this time of night?' he asked sus.
piciously.
"'Why, l amt in the passage re-
piled. 1T was hot and l just got up e
open the door,
"'Well, go back into your ROOM said
Mrs. Whitney, and don't let me catch
you out of it till morning
But | would not go back. Some thing
could not define recalled my suspicious
of previous evening | felt intuitlvely
that they meditated some evil against
my uncle.
What are you standing there for:
Why don't you go back into your room
again? called out Mr.. Whitney.
1T was trying moment. l knew
that if | once shut the door | could not
reopen it without making some noise,
which might lead to suspicious, which
suspicious might lead to an investga.
tion of my trunk and effects which
would be only sorely discomforting.
Yet as it was | ran an awful risk !
stood here my natural self; no rouge,
no wig, no spectacles, just as l had risen
from my bed. Every dictate of pru-
denco told me to go back; yet an inner
consciousness whispered: Go forward!
care you going to stand there all
night?' came the now exasperated voice
of Mr.. Whitney.
"'No, I'm not I snapped out; but
it's hard a poor servant gal can't get a
breath of fresh air. And l banged the
door to with much unnecessary violence,
as if had got out of temper.
"uad retreated into my room?
mo. / had resolved to brave every
thing. In that brief moment of time
there had come vision to me of my
poor helpless uncle in the power o
these wretches. l had banged tina door
to, but had left myself outside stand
ing in the passage, with beating hear
and limbs which trembled, for l knew
that the flash of a light might reveal me
at any moment and l had learned by
this time the desperate character o.
these people, the Whitneys. Beyond &
doubt of it they were slowly poisoning
the man whose wealth they coveted.
1T had been impossible to get to the
sick chamber; it was too we'll guarded
for that; but l had had to wash some
medicine glasses, and had drained into
little vial the contents of one not en-
tirely swallowed. A local druggist
whom l took into my confidence had
told me it was undoubtedly arsenic.