The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1894-03-08
THAT FATAL WEEK.
How Mr.. Copeland Removed the
Barrier to Amy's Happiness.

L
alone would uphold me, if | did not
have any memory to depend upon, but
the fact remains-Amy was born on
September 7, and Roland on the 14th of
the same month and year, which gives
Amy weeks advantage in point of
age"
II should call it adecided advantage,
my dear, if it stands in the way of the
poor child's happiness" observed Mr..
Copeland.
mo happiness could come of il be-
lieve me. The advantage should al
ways be on the husbands side, since
women grow old more rapidly than men.
1t is not fair to Amy, and l could never
consent to such thing"
'Buu, MY uear hi1rlct,' urged Mr..
Copeland, what possible difference
could it make-this paltry week? Had
1t been seven years, now, instead of
seven days, 1 might understand. As it
is, no one would believe it. l don't my
self. l really think there must be
some mistake"
Mistaken she echoed "oh! no, my
dear remember"
Il remem ber' - that was the key
note of the family life. When Mrs.
Copeland remembered the others meek
ly bowed in submission. From long ex-
perience they had learned to rely upon
her memory as implicitly as upon the
steady old clock at the foot of the
stairs.
There the matter might have rested,
for the night, at least, and poor Amy's
hopes might have hung by the slen-
derest of threads had it not been for
a temptation which often assails and
conquers the best of women-a desire
for the last word
YES" said Mrs. Copeland, yielding
to this weakness, there is certainly a
weeks difference. Twill show you the
record of Amy's birth tomorrow, in
your writing, in the Bible"
II don't dispute it," repeated Mr..
Copeland in drowsy tones; but as the
final word fell from Mrs. Copeland's lips
evil entered his heart, and he lay
awake anXiously thinking and plan
ming, until his wife's regular breath
ing assured him that she was sound
asleep.
Then, in the midst of brooding ST.
lence which seemed to cast spell
upon the household, he arose cautious
ly, softly CROPPED about for his dressing
gown and slippers, and dropped box
of matches into one of his capacious
pockets
His destination was the library,
where, upon the top shelf of book
case. re.,socsed the family Bible. 1t was
the work of a moment to light the gas,
bring the volume down and spread it
open upon the table, after which Mr.
Copeland stood lost in reasonable med
itatiOn.
"Confound it! She is right againr'
There, in his handwriting, was the
following entry:
Amy, eldest daughter of William G.
and Harriet Copeland, born September
z, 1870"
He opened his desk and took from
one of the shelves a small vial bit
of blotting paper and fountain pen.
The first contained some chemical prep
aration, and, carefully drawing the
stopper, he let fall single drop of the
liquid upon the date.
Like magic it disappeared, and dry
ing the cleared place with the blotting
paper Mr.. Copeland viewed this part of
his undertaking with great satisfac-
ton. All inconvenient conscience
pangs were now obliterated, and he
was only intent on perfecting his task.
This brought the fountain pen into ac-
tive service. A light stroke, and the
deed was done.
The anxious lines disappeared from
his genial face, smile played round
the corners of his mouth and twinkled
in his eyes as he replaced the Bible,
concealed the weapons of his enter
prise and tiptoed upstairs. But at the
first landing a shock awaited him, for
there stood his daughter Amy, also en-
veloped in a wrapper, her little bare
feet thrust into slippers, her pretty
over the banisters and peered anxious
ly into the dimly lighted hall.
Father" she exclaimed in a sur
prised whisper, what are you doing at
this time of night?"
Mr.. Copeland started guilty like a
schoolboy caught in mischief.
81 might ask that question ofyou, my
dear" he returned, parrying her attack.
81 was hunting for book"
and l for robbers. am sure some
one turned the handle of my door
awhile ago. l was frightened"
"Silly child" said Mr.. Copeland, mo
one was stirring but myself Now go
to bed and preserve your roses, else
your mother will wake up and scold us
both"
But, seriously" said Amy, 81 wanted
to ask your advice. What am l to do?
! can never marry Roland against
mothers wishes, that is clear enough,
but how to overcome the obstacle | am
at loss to conjecture. At the same
time l owe certain duty to Roland,
who loves me-"
ITO be sure, to be sure" assented Mr..
Copeland, studying the tips of his slip
pers in seeming abstraction. Roland is
fine fellow, my dear, if itwere not for
the disparity in age"
''Ah! that ugly, provoking, obstinate
week. flinging out each adjective with
gesture of despair, land Roland would
take it from me gladly if he could. Do
look so very ancient, so very much his
senior? Is age so plainly written on