The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1890-03-12

"Who is Berthal" the physician at last
asked the weeping, gray haired mother
who had come from distant city to care
for her only son. "We must find her.
have done all l can for his body, but
only her coming can relieve his mind"
And, he added, softly, 'she must come
SOON"
"If only knew" the mother an
swered, chow l would fly to her It is
breaking my heart to face those eager,
longing eyes; but l do not know.
Among my boys papers are several notes
signed Bertha, but no other name is
given, and all are dated Home Oh,
doctor, it is hard TO know a woman holds
my beautiful boys life in her hands, and
l cannot even plead with her for itp
And with passionate gesture she turned
away.
At the office, things went on as usual.
Weaver noticed Franks desk remained
vacant, but said to himself, when the
clerks spoke of his illness:
"Men don't die of broken hearts, and
he will recover, cured of his fancy"
He could not, however, bring himself
to destroy the stolen letter, but when
alone, constantly took it from his pocket
and glanced at it.
One day, while doing so, Mr.. Wade
suddenly entered the room. Hastily slip
ping it under a pile of bills, Weaver
looked up.
''Mr. Weaver, his employer said, 'let
me come to your desk. want to glance
over Franks papers. am afraid the
poor boy himself will never do that again.
Sad, isn't itl" And Mr.. Wards kindly
voice grew husky.
''Is it so bad as that, sir2" Weaver
murmured, while a deadly faintness
seized him.
$50 bad as that, fear, Mr.. Wade an
swered, mechanically taking up pile of
papers and running over them. Suddenly
he exclaimed:
whats this2-a letter written by
Frank himself, and never sent2"
The pity that a moment ago had filled
Weaver suddenly vanished, and fierce
desire TO escape detection had taken its
place.
"Why, yes" he said; 'I remember
Frank intended to invite Miss Wiley to
the opera for Thursday, but changed his
mind, and 1 suppose did not send the
letter. However, l am going down to
inquire after him at noon, and if you
will give me the letter, I'll leave it with
his mother"
"Yes, yes" assented Mr.. Wade,
''that's good idea"
But he still held it in his hand, while
Weaver could hardly retain his desire to
snatch it away.
"If get the cursed thing in my own
hand once, #" he thought, ''it will never be
seen again.
just then Jimmy entered. Catching
sight of the letter in Mr.. Wade's hand,
he exclaimed:
"Why, Mr.. Weaver, you didn't mail
that letter that day"
Weaver turned pale.
'.You don't know what you're talking
about, " he said, as Mr.. Wade glanced up
inquiringly.
"Yes, do" Jimmy persisted; "that's
the letter Mr.. Hepburn gave me to mail
the day before he got sick. Do you re-
member his saying that little cross was
secret society sign?"
"Why didn't you mail it, Jimmy2"
Mr.. Wade interrupted, sternly.
''Why, sir, on my way to the office,
Mr.. Weaver took it from me, and said
he'd mail it himself"
Jimmy had taken the letter from Mr..
Wade's hand, and turning it over, eX-
claimed;
''It's opened now!"
There was no need to question Weaver;
the look of bitter hatred he turned on
Jimmy told his guilt more eloquently
than any words.
"Mr. Weaver, am sorry for this, "
Mr.. Wade said, simply, and left the
room.
His heart was very tender toward the
poor boy he had seen that morning toss
ing restlessly from side to side, aud still
trying to murmur Bertha"
''The name is the same" he COM
mented. 'I'll take her the note and ex-
plain its delay. There may be con
nection between this and his brain-fever.
God grant there is"
Hurriedly calling a cab, he drove to
the address on the envelope, and was
soon greeted by young lady who re-
sponded to his inquiry for "Miss Bertha
Wiley"
She was very beautiful girl, but |
there was none of the gay brightness one
would look for in a creature so young. |
She had an air OF WEAKNESS like that |
which comes from long nights of sleep
and there was a suspicion of |
tears in her voice as she greeted her Wis
itor
"Is this your letter." he asked, abrupt
ly.
She looked at him rather haughtily an
instant, then her whole air changed to.
one of intense eagerness as she caught
sight of the address. eyes" she
breathed, and in a moment had taken
the note and devoured its contents.
"Where did you get it," she asked,
looking up, the pretty color that tinged
her cheeks as she read dying out, and her
little air of hauteur returning, though
her eyes still danced, and there was a
glad ring in her sweet voice.
Ignoring her question, Mr.. Wade said,
sharply;
500 you know its writer is dying2"
"Dyingl Frank-oh, my darlingm