Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1896-03-25

been tempered by her pitying love
and her prayers for heavens forgive
ness.
The daughter of thiefl Oh, why
had she met Jack? Why had she al
lowed herself to care for him! Why
had she let herself feel glad wnen she
knew that he loved her? Why had
she greatly desired that he should tell
her that he had gwen his heart to her,
and demanded her own in return?
How many sadly confused questions
did she put to herself as she sat there
in the miserable silence her mother
and her father farther from her than
they had ever been before, while she
7ainly tried to accuse her heart and
her daughterly affection OF trans,
crossing, even though Jack called
through the silence, that, but for her
fathers crime, she might have claimed
woman's perfect happiness on earth.
Her mother and her father az.
parently failed to realize how much
she was going through; it was only
her lack Of response to their love that
touched them. Her alteration OF a
man who might have been her husband
was merely foolishness of hers, and
not to be placed in the same category
with her duty as daughter-the
daughter OF thief That miserable
word, that disgraceful word would
come uppermost to her. But for Jack
would thus have been SO? The daugh-
ter of thief!
There came tap on the door, and
it sounled on her ear like thunder.
Her mother went to the door and
opened it.
''Mark," she said to her husband,
'sit is cook; she wishes to speak to me
about dinner. We are going to have
all tho things you used to-all the
things you like. OF course, the SER
wants know nothing, dear; you have
been West, you know. The servants
have only been with us since We moved
here. Would you like to come down
stairs, or will you stay here in the
library?"
.sI will stay here" he said, in his
hushed way. "here."
"very well," returned his wife. 81
sha'n't be gone long. See, here is all
the old furniture, ell your books, just
as you used to like them, and the
pictures. She leaned over and kissed
him before she went out and closed
the door behind her.
Annie was aloLe with her father.
She heard him moving carefully
around, taking up book, only to lay
it down again. He went up and looked
at his wife's picture haIlging between
two tall bookcases, then at that of his
.wife's father. Before tlus last picture
he fingered, making no sound, but
looking, looking at the lace of the old
bank president who had fallen dead
the day his trusted cashier and his only
daughters husband had gone to serve
a sentence in prison. Annie could not
see him, but she knew all that her
father did. Her back was toward him
as she leaned over her sewing, and her
heart beat fast when he turned from
the picture at last and swiftly crossed
the carpet.
When his hand was laid upon her
arm she almost shrieked aloud.
"Annie!" said her fathers voice. 1t
was firm voice now, no quaver Of
doubt in it. and 1t forced her like o
command she dared not disobey.
She rose from her seat and faced
him.
Despite the physical changes in him
she saw before her his old self
strong, not unbrave, not disloyal, not
a criminal.
''You have given up your lover, he
went on. rapidly. "You have given
him up because of me. Pay attention
to me. I will tell you what I had
hoped never to tell a living soul on
earth. And I must speak before your
mother comes back, for she must
never know. But you must know,
and the man who had asked
you to be his wife and whom you re-
fused on account of me. will go to
him and I will tell HIM as I tell you,
that I have wrecked no life, that I
have not wrecked my daughters hap
piness. Do you hear me? I have not
interfered with your right to be happy
with the man you love. have been
adjudged criminal, I have served a
criminals sentence. But 1 am an in
nocent man, and," he turned and
pointed to the picture of his wife's
father, "that man knew it. I sacri-
fed, not your mother, not you, but
my own standing in society and the
minds of men for the sake of my wife's
father and his invalid wife,"
She gasped, she understood him,
and she trembled from head to foot.
s1 would never have told you," he
went on, 'only that you gave
up your life's happiness because
of my disgrace. Your forfeited
love for me would never have brought
this confession, for what did was
done to save On old man and an old
woman who had been as q mother to
me. If nature could not make your
love surmount my shame, that love is
of little account. Your mothers
fathers sin made me a prisoner; it
was he who took the mpney, and I the
blame. I have proofs Of all this, and
i am glad I never destroyed them, for
/ must show those proofs to the daugh.
ter whose lack of love makes my word
of no account"
"Father !"
There was a quality il her cry that
told him more than may words; she
sprang to his arms, ner heart held
closely to his-he was innocent; he
vas innocentl and though her life's
greater love might be over and done,
the man who had asked her to marry
him had not loved the daughter Of
thiefi
There was some one in the room,
though neither of them needed till the
L.