The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1897-01-08
CHAPTER XVII.


There was trouble that evening in the
Hall household also. Early in the after
noon, while Addie was out, telegram
arrived for her, and Mrs. Hall, opening
it, had the good news to communicate
to her daughter, upon her return, that
John was coming home. The business
that took him away had been happily
concluded, and he would reach New
York on the morrow, the dispatch hav.
ing been sent while he was en- route.
The girls position, in view of that
intelligence, suddenly became decidedly
embarrassing. While she felt that she
"never, no, never, could forgive John"
she could not bring herself to reveal to
her mother the fortuitous discovery Of
his shameful immortality and utter un
trustworthiness which she had made.
She would give him up; would Danish
him forever, and never hear another
word from his false lips. That, OF
course, was settled, but her pride for
bade her confessing that the man she
had loved so we'll and Of whom she had
been so proud was unworthy of her
love. But, by strange perversity of
humor seemingly, the old lady appeared
to be more favorably disposed toward
John than she had ever been before.
"I'm real glad he is coming back. :
she said, ''for find that have sort oi
got into habit of trusting that your
man and liking to sen him around Of
course, he will receive your note IT,.
minute he gets home, and we may los.
to see him up here as soon as he c.,
come, tomorrow evening anyway"
Addie did not want to tell that s.
had torn that note into little bits are
scattered them to the winds within a
block of Johns lodging, yet she cou
not bear that her mother should cheris,
hopes which she knew were destined :
grievous disappointment. So she tri
to temporize while cogitating how e.
meet the difficulties Of the situation
81 don't think he could do any GOO.
if he were here, mamma" she SAD
coldly.
Mrs. Hall deliberately put on h,r
spectacles and stared at her, as if she
found it difficult to believe the report tf
her ears alone.
"Since when have you had that idea
about John?" she demanded.
"Well, what could he do, mamma?'
responded the girl evasively. ''The let
ter affords no clew. The man either will
respond to your advertisement or h,
will not. If he does, no John Latham
will be needed to hunt him up. If ~
does not, and chooses to continue hiding
himself, no John Latham can find him
"I'm not so sure about that. And.
moreover, I'm free to admit that il
would be some comfort to me as well
as to you to see John and talk to him. -
cit wouldn't be any comfort to me
don't want ever to see him again.
wish / never had"
"Why, Adele Miranda Hall! VIVA,
on earth are you saying?'
'Well just don't. So there. And
don't care bit. p"
And, doubtless as conclusive evidence
that she did not care, she burst into
tears. The old lady, meditatively rub
bling the side Of her nose with long
forefinger, pondered and gave time for
the outburst to subside. Then she said
gently and with little trembling in
her voice:
"You are all that the Lord has seen
III I'd lcdVc 10 I1t, Auult, duu ~ IdhSS
me little afraid sometimes to think
that maybe 1 love you better than
should; that I'm prouder of my noble,
pure souled, beautiful girl than 1 ought
to be, and that, without meaning it, /
may be putting the creature before the
Creator in my affections and calling
down an awful Christening Judgment
upon myself. If 1 have sinned, it is
through my sin that my punishment
will come to me, and may God grant
me strength to bow to his will. But do
not make me suffer in suspense my
child. Tell me tho reason for your sud-
den change Of feeling toward John La
than. What has he done? Why do you
say that you never want to see him
again."
"Oh, mammal sobbed the girl, lay
ing her fearful face upon her mothers
shoulder, II hoped would not have to
tell you, but 1 believed him so good,
and-and-I was wrong'
The old woman's face grew very pale,
her lips quivered and the tears filled her
eyes. She could not speak. but one arm