The record-union., 1892-02-27
Janet he hurriedly leaves the room and

Janet he hurriedly leaves the room and
his untouched breakfast.
Sir Roger reaches his study and again
reads the brief note, which runs thus:
Sir Roger: I am leaving you forever. I
never loved you, Roger. l was crazy with
misery when l married you, having heard
that the man to whom my heart was given
had proved untrue. The story was utterly
false. II is Dick l go with him. If l live
without him l will go mad. Forgive me if
you can; If not, curse me. For all your KIND
ness TO me thank you. Farewell forever.
Sir Roger sinks upon his knees. Great
sobs come thick and fast. Thick and fast
the tears roll down his cheeks. How
blind l was. God pity the poor girl.
Poor Betsy!" And then Sir Roger repeats
a prayer-a simple little prayer that he
learned at his dead mothers knee. And
as he prays, in fancy he feels that dear
mothers hand wandering III loving
touch upon his boyish head again. and
pressed in silent blessing amid the sunny
curls which have now changed to silver.
Long and fervently Sir Roger prays for
this lost wife, who has been the first TO
throw the shadow of shame upon his name
and honor. Slowly he arises from his
knees. The noble face has grown
strangely old i'll the past half hour, and a
eyes.
II will set her free" he says aloud,
land then, he must, he shall marry her."
Five months have passed. A young
woman sits sewing within the long, wide,
open window of a bungalow. It is ex-
cessively warm, and her thick, red
hair, streaked slightly with silver, is
pushed III a tangled mass from off
her broad, wide forehead. She is seated
in a low chair rocking herself back and
forth, her busy fingers meanwhile en-
Dloyed with some fine, white needle
work. The breeze commences to arise,
stirring the beautiful red hair upon her
brow and rustling the full, loose folds of
her cool, white gown, ripping the deli
cate lace around her throat and breast.
She is softly singing, with an occasional
glance toward the clock. Presently
Dick Heath enters the room. He places
his arms around her, kissing her lips
again and again. Seating himself upon
the footstool at her feet, he lifts q tiny
garment from the floor which her nimble
fingers have just completed. With ten
der smile he takes her hands and presses
them to his lips, whilst a soft, pink flush
creepS across her cheek and brow. She
leans over and rests her head upon his
shoulder.
'How happy I am" she murmurs. He
presses her gently against his breast.
They sit thus, whispering loving words
to one another. A turbaned attendant en-
tiers, bearing tray ladened with luscious
fruits and ICED drinks, then silently with
draws.
A quick, heavy footstep echoes from
the outside and the swaying curtains are
pushed aside, startling the lovers from
their close embrace.
Lady Betsy turns frightened glance
n MD fniV
springs to her feet as her eyes encounter
those of her husbands.
Dick hurriedly arises, clasping her
tightly with one arm as they stand facing
one another. Dick holds her tight-al-
most cruelty tight-so that the pistol in
his pocket hurts her.
Perhaps, after ALL Sir Roger was only
human, and the sight of his wife in an
other mans arms maddened him. With
an angry movement toward his hip
pocket he steps forward. But Lady Betsy
springs in front of her lover like tigress
defending its young. With frantic eff
fort she wrenches the pistol from Dicks
pocket and points it in her shaking
hands toward the intruder. Dick rushes
in front, and, almost frantic with terror,
she pulls the trigger.
Like log some one falls with groan.
With dread worse than death she waits
for the smoke to disperse.
Oh, mother of sorrowSi What is that
she sees? Her husband standing pale
but unhurt, and Dick lying lifeIess
mass at her feet, the crimson life blood
flowing from his bosom in a thin, mar
row stream. With q despairing cry of
agony she dashes the pistol to the floor
and sinks upon her knees by his side
Raising his head and clasplng il frantically
to her breast, she pressed sobbing kisses
upon his lifeless lips and brow. The
CHASTITY stream stains the white gown
and hands. Her eyes blaze with the
furious light Of insanity. She springs to
her feet, curSing in frightful words the
man standing dumbfounded with amazed
sorrow before her.
kill me-" she screams, tearing the
gown from her fair, white bosom "kill
me; | cannot live"
She drops upon her knees in front of
him, with arms stretched wide apart
Kill me, Sir Roger, here where his
head has so often rested. In mercy kill
me, beg, implore; cannot live with
out him, the love of my heart, of my life"
A mighty flood of pity overspreads Sir
Rogers being. He Stoops and raises the
wretched creature III his arms, but ere he
can place her in a chair she has again
slipped upon the floor. beseeching him
with miserable supplications to end her
life.
nation is necessary. Lady Betsy's wild
rawlings tell all. For weeks she lay hover
ing between life and death, then, when
her health gradually returns, the past is
blank, utterly blotted from her mind.
Sir Roger remains in India. and to him
she clings with childish fondness. And
then, few months later, when her
nameless child was born, her reason
with all its horrors returns. With
mournful eyes fixed in unntterable
misery upon the face Of the child which
must reap the full benefit of her shame
and wrong-doing, Sir Roger enters the
darkened chamber and gazes pityingly
upon her suffering face.
He takes her clammy hand: Betsy is
there any wish you would express ~
An eager light darts for a moment to
her eyes, but is instantly followed by
blank despair as she realizes the impos-
sibility of what she would crave. SADLY
she shakes her head as her eyes rest with
yearning look of helpless, hopeless
misery upon the babe by her side, and
her white lips part in moan of despair
ing anguish.
Dear, this is not the time fer re-
proaches, but rather that of forgiveness.
Any request you would make to me shall
be granted ii 1t is in human power to do
SO.
Again her eyes growing dim with death
turn toward the child. Sir Roger lays his
hand gently upon the infants head.
SIS it this, Betsy? If so, let your mind
be at rest" He stoops and takes the baby
in his arms, and then does Sir Roger re-
giSter this VOW, which has never been
equaled in the records of time.
Your child shall be as my own SON.
1 swear it before my Maker that as / deal
by him so shall he do by me ALSO"
He ceases and presses his lips rever-
emily upon the small forehead of the
sleeping child, and, as he does so, surely
that Being sitting in judgment most high,
in pleased approval recorded this deed in
a bright mark of everlasting glory.
With cry of joy Lady Betsy half raises