Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1892-02-12

come again on Thursday
He had given me warm hand-shake, and
had got halfway down the stairs, when |
called him back
IF you are calling at the cottage" | said,
don't tell them anything Of this. Don't let
them knox that Annie is here, or that you
have seen her. 1t Will be better to keep the
secret yet"
If he could not induce Inc TO take money,
John Rudd determined to render assistance
| in some other way. About half an hour aft
er he had left, doctor arrived to see Annie;
then came several bottles of wine, and some
| fruit; and / had strong reason TO suspect that
the landlady had not been quite so averse to
| accepting his money as / had been. At any
| rate, she was untiTing in her attention to
Annie, who rapidly recovered.
When John Rudd came on the Thursday,
he found her sitting up in bed, able to recog-
nize him and talk to him, but still too weak
TO walk into the adjoining room. Nothing
was said about going away that day; but |
judged that she would be able to make the
attempt on the following Monday, the day
Of the carriers return.
On the Sunday morning, therefore, when
she had left her bedroom, and sat in the arm
chair by the sitting-rOOm fire, took her poor
thin hand in mine, and said:
"Annie, my dear, do you feel strong enough
to take a journey?'
For a e.. ment she turned her frightened
eyes on NINE.
"a journey, Hugh?7 she asked, family.
| saw her cheeks grow very white, but /
knew that what | had to say must be said;
50 ] went bravely Oh.
'J0hn Rudd will be here tomorrow" l
said, land | want to take you home"
1t wa. pitiful to see her face. ooh, Hugh!
/ can't cop she cried. Il can't face father,
| it would kill me. You go, and leave me
! Try to forget you have seen me; and they
| will never know"
| | saw it was hard task | had before me,
| but tackled it as bravely as | could.
annie" | said, the time has come when
you must tell me the whole truth. When we
met in London, you said you were a married
| woman. Was thai true or false"'
She Shvered, and turned away her face.
Don't ask me, Hugh! dOn'tw
| But persisted, and at last she replied:
| when | told you, | thought it was true.
He said | was his wife. We went before
sort of lawyer together in Plymouth, and
| though ] prayed sore to be wed In church,
| he said it was the same thing. AfterWard,
when we qualreled, he told me that the man
was in mis- pay, and that it was no marriage
| at ALL That was why | left him, and went
| into the streets to Starve."
Now, answer me,'' cried, "who is the
| man who deceived you? If he is living, he
! shall make amends"
| ''TOO late, too late! she cried.
"What!' | exclaimed, startled by her tone,
| and thinking of the murdered man. 'lS he
| dead?"
mo, Hugh; he is livingw
| His name? Tell me his nameI'
| "Hugh, dear [ cannOt-at least not yet
| But trusted him, and he deceived me. He
| made me swear to keep his secret for time,
| saying that if folk knew of our marriage it
would be his ruin. At last when [ could
| bear suspense no longer, he told me the
! truth. With the aid OF him that's dead, he
| had deceived Inc our marriage was all a
pretense! On, God help me! What shall L
| do? What shall | dO"'
My head whired; had a sore struggle to
collect my furious thoughts. At last mas
tered myself, and cried:
you must come home with me. You must
tell the truth to those that love you. If
not"
| She clung to me, looking up into my angry
| face.
Hugh you won't ask me! Promise me
thatr'
did not answer her, | could not trust my
self to answer. | was thinking of all the
evil that had already happened, of the dead
man, of the hand which, in moment of
madness, had laid him low. [ was thinking,
too, of Madeline.
Al last | turned to my cousin.
You must leave it all to me-" | said.
Now go and lie down; will call you early
i'll the morning"
1t was a wretched night for both of us. !
walked about the sitting-room hour after
| hour, and listened to Annle's sttled sobs and
| means from the adjoining chamber. In the
| morning | called her according to promise.
| She looked deathly pale, but tOlerably com
| posed, and when John Rudd knocked we
| were both ready to 60. When we got TO the
| wagon, we found that there was a nice bed
| made up for Annie, and near to it was q
! basket full of things for her to eat
| | shall never forget that journey; to me 1t
! seemed nterminaJle, but to poor Annie 1t
ended over quickly, fear At starting, she
| took her place inside the wagon, upon the
| bed which John Rudd had made up for her,
! and there she stayed until the end. As we
| drew nearer and nearer to st. GurlOtt's her
| agitation increased terribly; and when at last
| John pulled up within hundred yards OF
the cottages gate, she began to cry pttltully,
| and beg to be taken away. | SOOthed her as
we'll as | could, and saving left her in the
| van, | walked on to the cottage to prepare
| the way for her reception. | entered the
gate, went softly up to the cottage, and look
| Ell in at the kitchen window. 1t was quite
! dark outside; but inside the kitchen lights
| were burning, and fire was blazing on the
| hearth. Before the fire, seated in his arm
| chair, was my uncle. His face looked whittier
| than ever, his hair was like snow; on his
| knees he held the big family Bible, which he
| was reading, tracing the lines with the fore
| finger of his right hand. | looked around
| the kitchen for another hgure-that OF my
aunt She was not there. fastened back
| to the wagon, lifted out Annie, more dead
I than alive, poor child; and half-led, halT-car-
! ried her to the kitchen door.
! Go in, Annie" | whispered, your father
| is therem Then [ opened the door, and.
| leaving her on the threshold, returned to my
| post of observation at the window to see
what took place.
| For moment Annie Swerved and half
/ turned, as if about to fly, then she laid her
hand upon the door and Sobbed Father
| l saw my uncle start neryouSy and drop
the book upon his knee; then he rose, and,
! with piercing cry of JOY, held forth his
! arms.
| What followed l don't know. | rushed to
| the kitchen door and when | reached it
saw poor Annie lying half-fainting upon her
| fathers breast.
CHAPTER XIV.
/ FATHER AND CHILD.
| 1t was sight to bring tears to the eyes of