Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1893-05-08
CHAPTER XVII.


John! Why should l have been
singled out to perpetuate it? Why
should the hard task of doing Amelia
justice not have been left in other
hands? feel as if 1 had erected fresh
and stronger barriers between the
houses of White Cliffs and Glenburnie-
But could not help it. 1t had to be
done"
mo, you could not help it. 1t had to
be done"
He echoed her words gravely. He
had just little while before come from
the courthouse, where he had waited to
hear the verdict in the Norcross case.
They had been sitting in somber silence
a long minute.
think that but for me they might at
las have come together! No one ever
would have suspected"
Poor Ida! and poor Dennis! They
have waited so long!"
John, there is u reproach in your
voice!" She left her seat, and, coming
behind him, she put her arms around
his neck and laid her soft cheek upon
the crown of his head. There were
tears in her eyes, but if he felt them
dropping among his closc-clipped locks
he made no sign, other than putting up
one hand to lay it caressingly on hers
as they lay interlocl1ed about his brown
throat She was very dear to him
this recovered wife.
Not for you, wife," he said, sooth-
ingly. "You could not help it, 1t had
he done"
She would not let me rest. Wher-
ever l went, whatever l was doing, ]
could see her pleading eyes, ! could hear
her reproaching me for not caring. Oh,
John, it was awful, awful! All my life
| long | have been caring for her, pro-
tecting her, putting her happiness be-
fore mine. And, John, it was because
of her that l said no to you that first
time loved you then. But said, |
| cannot ask him to care for us both. and
| | cannot leave her to buffet the world
alone. Poor Nellie! she was always so
| giddy. 1t was because of her that |
said no the second tine-though it al
| most broke my heart, John, to say it.
| But she was away from mo then, and.
| although she was married to him, Sib-
ley Fairbanks, she used to write me
such reckless wild letters and tell me
that she was coming back to me. She
kept rnc in fear. / thought, If disgrace
awaited me, you should not be involved
in it. Then, when she disappeared,
John, and sent me her child to care for,
in a foolish moment I determined to
marry you, and take Amelia's child up
among the Fairbanks, thinking they
might see and grow to love it, and
through it all the child might come tC
be we'll with Amelia and her husband
1t was not right, John. It was wrong
I-oh, SO wrong-to you'll"
eve will not ever allude to the past
You have suffered sufficiently. my dar
ling"
81 have! have! Oh, John, have!''
She was distinctly sobbing now. HI
drew her to him.
'You have forgiven me so much, John
But this last is too much"
Dear, it is horrible from beginning
to end, but, with a clew to the identit.
of your sisters slayer put into you
hands, what less could you do than fol
low it to its solution? You would no
only have been a traitor to your sister
but you would have been compoundinl
, felony, If you had not done just wha
you did do"
"Oh, thank you for putting it tina
way! God bless you, John, for think
ing of such sweet, comforting wordsi
, She lay quiet IN his arms, her we
,, cheek pressed against his shoulder, he
breath coming audibly In long, sobbin
catches every few seconds. He ben
: his head to bring his lips close to he
ear: