The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-08-11

made of fruits after some Oriental rec
ipes which he possessed; he found sweet
flowers dripping with dew in the woods,
and he sang, as never heard any one
sing before, those Scottish ballads that
are lovelier than any other music ever
written, to my mind; and it ended in
my loving them
So when i was well enough to go away
/ took Madge's hand in mine and said.
How shall ever thank You for your
tender care of me?"
And she answered, Agnes Grey, the
only gratitude ask is belief in us. The
people down there" (and she pointed
with her brown hand toward the town.
call us the children of a murderer. We
are the children of martyr instead.
never saw my father, but we both know
that he is innocent. And Gideon remem-
bers his kindness, his tenderness. his gen.
tleness and his honor. 4k
Your uncle Mathew-forgivem me, but
it is the truth-was a wild, bad fellow.
He quarreled with my father, not father
with him, and the debt was paid. Mother
saw it done, and heard him boast that
the money should take him beyond the
reach of irksome laws and chattering
tongues. And for the bloody handker-
chief, he had cut his hand, and unbound
and washed it, and tied it up afresh in
mothers very sight that day. Don't dare
to doubt it; don't be SO cruel as to doubt
it, Agnes Grey"
Then she brought me the picture that
they kept as sacred relic, and verses
written by his hand and tender love let
ters yellow with age, and as looked at
the face-so sweet, SO good, so like that
of the Gideon Lee l knew felt sure
that those who stood before me, though
they were the children of the man who
was hung were not the offspring of q
murderer And afterward Gideon also
spoke.
1T is hard to bear" he said; .ehard to
know that we must bear it all our lives;
but if you only see the truth-if only,
without proof, you will understand that
we know no murder was ever done by
our dear fathers hand--we, who have
his pictured face upon the wall, the let
ters written to our mother, the words
our mother wrote begging us to read
them often when she was dead, and
never doubt the man who on his knees
in the condemned cell, calling on God to
witness his last words, had sworn to the
wife who would have loved him even
had he in some hasty moment dealt a
fatal blow, that he knew nothing of
Mathew Grey's death and even doubted
that he was dead at all-if you can believe
with us and not with those who were
his murderers, l, at least. shall have a
lighter heart"
And / put my hand into his, and gave
the other to Madge, and said honestly,
Il do believe as you do, and always
will
And so I went away; but took their
faces with me, their pleasant ways, their
voices As for Gideon's face, it haunted
me. There was about him charm that
no one else ever had. They were all
quaint, all charming in their way, but
he most of all.
A pretty scandal there was through
the town when began to go down to
the farmhouse to see my friends
knew it, and fought it bravely.
Gideon Lee never killed any one," l
vowed aloud to those who chided me,
Il will not ban his children for the fault
of Others"
But there in the town were those who
had been at the trial, and eleven of the
jurymen and witnesses; and under a
stone in the graveyard were the bones
that had been sworn to as Uncle
Mathews, and in a bleak, lonely spot
near the prison the coffin of the man who
was hung; and how dared 1, baby al
most at the time, to judge for myself.
knew they were right enough, but
never faltered. was as sure as Madge
was that her father never killed Uncle
Mathew.
They would not come to my home
Indeed, grandfather would have had the
door closed in their faces, but nothing
could keep me from them And it was
dangerous work for me, too, as began
to know before long, to sit so much by
Gideon Lees side, to hear his dear voice
so often, to feel my heart thrilling with
a loving pity for him for which had no
words. He was my wounded and des-
pissed knight, this dear Gideon Lee, be.
| fore I had known him three months, and
would have given my life for him.
But he said no words of love to me nor
to him. Just friends we were, and moth
ing more, outwardly. That was enough
for the town-enough for grandfather.
| was called unnatural. found my
dearest friends grown cold Even. the
Clergyman asked me if ''it would moi
harm me to hold companionship with
such people,"
And said: They are the best people
have ever known. And even had their
father done the deed for which he died,
they would be no worse for it. AS it is
he was murdered, and you are all cruel
to these poor children of his-cruel and
unchristian.
So he left me angrily, and SO many q
friend left me, and all my comfort was
to sit between Madge and Gideon in the
| quiet evenings and talk to them.
In the summer time we used to liohi