The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1890-02-07
XXI.---NEW SERIES.
was slain was there, secreted in the


You went down into the cellar. Your
feet stood above his buried remains!
But you knew it not.
On the night of that dreadful storm,
last August, Mason Belmont came TO
that house for shelter. 1 admitted
him, and knew him.
| was ordered to go to my room.
There was that in my fathers demeanor
that saw, that the visitor did not see.
1t troubled me. Never had seen him
look so woliish.
l came back to the stairs, and listen
ed. | heard him Gercely rcproaching
your father for his misiortunes.
l went to bed, but could not sleep.
The atmosphere of the whole house
seemed charged with violence and
crime.
l rose in the night, and partially
dressed myself.
o, God forgive my wretcilcd, mis-
guided father! l learned Of his awful
crime.
Spare me the painful recital of all
that 1 saw and heard in those hideous
hours!
At the peril of my own life (for |
knew that the murderer would have
Struck mo dead had he detected mel, 1
saw him burying the corpse of his VIC
tim; l saw him sccreting the money.
And he never, to tho moment of his
death, suspected that 1 knew aught
of it.
Discovery was threatened, when he
learned that Edgar Van Wyck had
guided Mason Belmont to the house.
Whether Edgar at any time suspected
the crime, do not know; but his si-
lence as to the presence of your father
in that house on that night was bought
by the promise of my hand.
What was to do? To live with the
dreadful knowledge that 1 had was
hard enough; was L also to SEQ my
father go to the hangmanP
That might have been the penalty of
refusal OF Edgar.
Shall speak of the daily aud night
ly horror of dwelling beneath that
roof since that August night? You
! may conjecture it; l cannot tell it.
Save for the tragic fate Of the I'M
happy being who perished in the de-
struction of the house, cannot regret
that it has been swept out OF existence
i To me it wo I'D ever be place of
! horrors.
Now you know all. You know the
life l have lately lived, the crushing
burdens | have borne. You know why
have avoided you, why / fly from you
now.
Need say more? Would you wish
for more?
Well, let me go on. You are large
of soul; you are generous far beyond
the power Of most men.
Will you still 'hrge me? DO you re
mind me- that SM Nth s Ahais sn soksa ha!
quences, ,uBi,eediiment? Beeddii lent should offer no
Kandall Belmont, stop and think!
You come Of 9 proud and wealthy
ancestry In the city where you live,
you are, or will be, known OF all men.
You belong to it's business, to its So
ciety; high honors must be waiting for
You in coming years.
Your wife must be one that you are
not ashamed of; whoever she be, her
history will be examined, questions
will be asked and answered about her.
And If | could occupy that place,
think how the question, "Who WAS
she?" must he answered by the hor-
riblc but truthful words, "She is the
daughter of the man who murdered
his father for money, and buried him
in the cellar
Because the story mast become
! known. Once | thought that 1 would
| keep it forever hidden in my breast.
But you sec why am compelled to tell
you; and now, Others must know it.
give them cfrstan 5urefaRf eRa1pa ~ yoal aaa
home; the whole shocking story will
DE known thoro.
Or, if not, how would it be with
yourself? Would you | Ike to be face
to face, for life, with the woman whose
father murdered yours? Could you
endure that?
No! There is no escape from the
conviction that. whoever else may be
joined together, we two must be for
ever sundcred.
Farewell, then, forever! You have
tried to make me happy, but it cannot
be. May God reward you rs you de.
serve. / love you too we'll to make
YOU WI tchcd. JESSICA.