Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1897-03-01

1t as it lies upon the table before him,
it will suffice"
Then [ bent over and read; and as
L read the letters swan before my
eyes, and thrill of utter terror seized
my limbs, for there, in my own hand
writing, was shameful confession of
sin and degradation. My own hand
writing? No! thousand times, no |!
l knew that it was not, that my fingers
had never penned those damning
words. But who could detect the diff
ference? Who would nail the foul
forgery? No one, no one! For the
moment I felt crushed and wholly
lost.
As I stood hiding my face in my
hands, feeling that in another moment
| must sink to the floor, there was II
light, quick step behind me, the rus
tie of skirts, soft touch:on my arm.
81 do not-I cannot think wrong OF
you, Reginald" murmured q voice
that thrilled every nerve in my frame.
Father, let me look at that paper"
Mr.. Day would have objected; Jer.
ONE Taylor, with white face, at
tempted to snatch the paper from her
grasp, but she was too quick for him,
and taking the written sheet to the
window she stood studying it long and
attentively.
l watched her breathlessly. 1t
seemed to me that life, love, honor,
the whole future, lay 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 toward lis 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 cold, con-
! temptuous glance upon his 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 l heard you
| tell my father that this paper is cou.
fession of dishonesty, written Eby Mr..
Reginald Trescott, five years ago, and
confded to your hands. Am Iright?"
Naylor bowed silently. His dry
lips would not give egress to the
words.
"Well, then, Jerome Naylor, you
liedr'
Her voice rang out with the clear
ness of bell. For an instant there
was dead silence in the room; then
Mr. Day made gesture of protest.
"My daughter" he began, but she
checked him.
''Let me speak. father" she said
81 know you wish to do justice be
tween these two. This man." she
pointed at Naylor, sis false hear ted,
unworthy of your confidence, a liar
and n forger. This man," touching
me- upon the arm. sis innocent, hon.
orable and incapable of falsehood l
will prove it." Looking Naylor, who
seemed scarcely able to stand, straight
in the face, she continued in the same
bell-like tones. "Here is confession
which purports to have been written
in May, 1881, but it is on paper that
was not made until 1871 Will Mr..
Naylor please to explain?"
"What do you mean?" cried Mr..
Day, in amazement.
"Look, father!" said Enid, holding
the sheet up before the light. "Do
you see that water-mark? 'Amoskeag
Mile, 1887"
Mr.. Day gave but n glance, then
turned darkly frowning face upon
Naylor.
Scan you explain this?" he asked.
Once, twice, jerome Naylor essayed
to speak, but could not. Then, at
length, u hoarse murmur escaped his
lips:
81 loved her, and knew she loved
him!"
That was all. Staggering like a man
stricken blind, pitifuliy cropping to.
ward the door, he left the room and
the house.
tie never returned to his desk at the
bank, and in due course L became
cashier in his place. l hold the water
mark beyond price, both because it
saved me from ruin and disgrace, and
because it aided me to win the sweet.
est and noblest wife that ever fell to
the lot of undeserving man.