Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-08-14

y
She rang for Ford; and the next hour or SO
was spent in arranging for the journey.
Then Ford brought up luncheon tray.
'T heard Sir James himself, nv lady, give
orders to Duncan that had to bring tray,
and Duncan is packing luncheon basket
by Sir James orders, too; do try to eat
something, for you had no breakfast
Miriam made no answer, for she could not
speak. "He thinks of me STILL" she was
thinking; 'he-hc was always good"
But she did not see him again until she
was on the point of leaving the house, where
she had gone such short time ago as bride.
| She thought he was not going to appear at
| all, but she was mistaken, for just as she
was crossing the hall, followed by Ford
the luggage having been already placed on
the carriage-Sir James came out of the
dining room, grave and pale, and offered
his arm to her to lead her to the carriage
He did not speak, and Miriam under
| stood the motive for this slight courtesy.
He did not wish the servants to know of
| their estrangement, and as he handed her
| into the carriage, Miriam said, tremulously,
| 81 will WRITE James"
He made no reply, but closed the carriage
door and directed the coachman to drive on.
Then, suddenly, as it he had remembered
| something, he put roll of notes in her
hand.
"You will want money on your Journey"
he said.
mo, have plenty" answered Miriam,
hastily; but he took no notice of this, and
merely once more directed the coachman to
drive on, and the notes were LETT in Miriam's
listless hand She bent forward to look at
him again as the carriage drove away, and
saw him standing bareheaded, watching it,
before he turned to go into his desolated
home.
The Journey from the Highlands to I've
ford Hall was long and weary one, and
with delays and cross trains it was past II
O'Clock on the following day before Miriam,
worn and weary, arrived there. She was
received at the door by her iather, Colonel
Clyde, who took her in his arms and kissed
her as he handed her out of the carriage,
which was with him very unusual mark
of affection.
"Joan?" said Miriam, eagerly, looking
up into his face.
Colonel Clyde sadly shook his head.
81 am afraid she is leaving us, he said.
'The doctors give us little hope"
''Oh, father! how dreadful exclaimed
Miriam, clinging to her fathers arm for
support He led her into the house, where
General Conray was sitting with his bowed
grew head, and grief-lined face.
He rose to receive Miriam, and then said
in low tone:
"she is most anxious to see you; she has
asked for you more than once"
twill 60 to her," answered Miriam,
with faltering tongue.
'Rest little, and compose yourself first,
my DEAR" said Colonel Clyde, kindly.
Miriam sat down and tried to recover
herself for a few minutes, and then Colonel
Clyde went up to tell her mother of her
arrival.
"She will break it to Joan, he said; and
when he returned he told Miriam Joan
wished to see her at once.
So, pale and trembling in every limb,
Miriam went up to her dying sisters room.
Her mother came to the door to receive her,
and silently kissed her and led her in.
s'Here is Miriam, Joan, my DEAR" said
the bed, on which Joan Conray lay, feebly
breathing her last hours away.
She was terribly changed, and her beauty
blighted and shrunk like dying flowers.
But she knew Miriam at once, and tried to
lift her wasted hand in greeting.
"Joan, dear Joan," said Miriam, bending
over her and kissing her fondly.
81 am glad you have come, said Joan. in
a low whisper, 81 have something to say to
you, Miriam, before die.
"Ohl dear Joan!'
"Mother, will YOU leave us?" continued |
Joan, speaking little louder, 81 wish to be
alone with Miriam"
Certainly. my dear, replied Mrs. Clyde, |
'but you know you must not agitate your |
SELF"
But Joan took no heed of this advice. |
She was restless for her mother to go, and |
Mrs Clyde went. Then Miriam took |
Joan's hand in hers
81 will stay by you, dear, but would |
Iii ;.l-
gently.
81 have no time to waste" answered |
Joan. "Miriam, I am dying, and before I |
die, wish my husband to know the |
truth"
: "Oh! Joan!
she knows it already, I am certain, !
though how he learnt it I cannot tell, but I |
have seen it written on his face"
Miriam was silent, she knew only too |
well that it was Joan's own lips that had |
revealed her. secret, in her delirious
rawlings.
81 cannot die in peace until have told |
him." went on Joan, II want him to forgive |
me-to say he forgives me-and Robert"
"But, dear Joan. think OF the conse-
quences of this, think Of"
''You mean Ferrars, Roberts murderer?
Do you know where he is now?"
mo. 1 do not
81 do not care what happens to him."
continued Joan, excitedlv. ''But I will |
not think of him; what 1 think of,
what I have thought of day and
night as lay here, is to atone, as far as |
san; is to confess everything. used to
hope my husband would never know, but
now feel that he does know. But would
not say anything till you came, Miriam,
you screened me then, and I am thankful at
east that no iniurv has come to Won from |
this''
Miriam suppressed restless sigh.
''Sir James is with you. of course?" asked
Joan, presently, after a few moments
silence
mo, he could not come
'Not come? Miriam, surely you are
happy with him? Surely you have not al
lowed anything to come between you and
his love?"
'sDear Joan, it is all right" said Miriam,
81 would tell him the truth; after am
gone tell him the truth, for there is no
blame due to you"
Dear Joan, do not talh of these things"
"But 1 must, and want you to 90 now
TO my husband and prepare him for my last
words. Tell him we all deceived him, and
that betrayed him."
ooh! Joan, how can do this? I did not
mean to tell you, but since your illness,
General Conray came to me in Scotland;
came to see me to try to learn the truth.
In your fever, you had talked of Robert
Conray, and you had led him to suspect
denied everything; I cannot 60
20 to him now."
''Then it was my own lips betrayed me-"
said Joan, with strange solemnity, ''God
made me speak the truth, though We tried