The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1897-02-23

"NN0S WoAAuS SOOU uS
from my own slender MEANS"
Noble fellowI" murmured Mr.. Day,
grasping his cashiers hand warmly,
while I remained mute, choking with
rage, incapable Of uttering a word in
my own defence.
But in view of these latter develop
ments," went on the cashier, II feel
that 1 should do wrong to withhold the
truth any longer"
Surely SurelyT' calculated Mr..
Day, gazing at me sadly, But I would
never have believed it of you, Tres
colt Never"
May I see that paper purporting to
be my confessionH" I asked, finding
my voice at last.
do not let it pass out of your
hand, Mr.. Day." interposed Naylor,
hastily.
II do not desire to touch it." I said.
III Mr.. Day will allow me to look at it
as it lies upon the table before him, it
will suffice.
Then I bent over and read; and as I
read the letters swan before my eyes,
and q thrill of utter terror seized my
limbs, for there, in my own hand
writing, was a shameful confession of
sin and degradation. My own hand
writings MOI a thousand times mol I
knew that it was not, that my fingers
| had V0nvoR nnnnn6 fhooo 6nYonSnn
words. But who could detect the diff
erenceV Who would nail the foul
forgery9 No one, no onel For the
moment 1 felt crushed and wholly lost.
AS 1 stood hiding my face in my
hands, feeling that in another moment
I must sink to the floor, there was a
light, quick step behind me, the rust
ling Of skirts, q soft touch on my arm.
II do not-I cannot think wrong Of
you, Reginald, murmured a voice that
thrilled every nerve in my frame.
Father, let me look at that paper"
Mr.. Day would have objected; Je
rome Naylor, with a white face, at
tempted to snatch the paper from her
grasp, but she was to quick for him,
and taking the written sheet to the
window she stood studying it long and
attentively.
l watched her breathlessly. It
seemed to me that life, love, honor,
the whole future, ley in the next
words she should utter; and Naylor,
with his drawn, CHASTITY face, and the
old man, with his sorrowful, benig-
nant aspect, watched her too.
Presently she came towards us again,
and the look she cast upon me was one
of mingled love, pride and triumph.
She went to her fathers side, opposite
the cashier, and bending a cold, con
temptuous glance upon Lis white face,
said, In slow, even tones:
Mr.. Naylor, 1 have been an unseen
auditor of this interview-an caves
dropper, if you like-and 1 heard you
tell my father that this paper is a con
fession Of dishonesty, written by Mr.
| Reginald Trescott, five years ago, and
con6ded to your hands. Am I right"
Naylor bowed silently. His dry lips
would not give egress to the words.
"Well, then, Jerome NaylOr, you
lied"
Her voice rang out with the clear
ness of q bell. For an instant there
ives dead silence in the room; then MI.
Day made a gesture of protest.
My daughter" he began, but she
checked him.
Let me speak, father" she said. Il
know you wish to DO Justice between
these two. This man." she pointed at
Naylor, 'isfaIse hearted, unworthy Of
your confidence, a liar and a forger.
This man" touching me upon the arm,
''is innocent, honorable and incapa
bic of falsehood. I will prove it,"
Looking Naylor, who seemed scarcely
able to stand, straight in the face, she
| continued, in the same belIlike tones:
Here is a confession, which purports
to have been written in May, 1884. but
it is on paper that was not made until
1882 Will Mr.. Naylor please to ex-
plaln9"
What do you means" cried MI.
Day. in amazement.
Look, father!" said Enid, holding
the sheet up before the light. do you
see that water marks 'Amoskeag
Mills, 1887"
MI. Day gave but a glance, then
turned a darkly frowning face upon
Naylor.
Can you explain this9" he asked.
Once twice, Jerome Naylor essayed
/ 70 sneak hut could not Then at