The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1904-05-12
cHApTrn xxvIr

--
CHAPTER XVII.
Reuben Culwick was in the loyal city
early the next dsy. The cathedral bells
we're ringing when he was searching IN
Mltcheson's place for Edward Peterson.
The man who had leaped from the top
window Of the button factory and broken
both his legs was not difIlcult 10 find
the inhabitants Of Mitcheson's place
knew all about him, who he was and
where he was, and the country police had
been watching for his convalescence for
weeks past, In order 70 conduct him 10
safe quarters. Edward Peterson was
too III to be removed at present--indeed,
OF late days the police had not been vigi-
liant, turn for the worse having taken
place In the sick mans condition, and II
being tolerably certain that he was drift
Ing from the laws Of his country In un-
due haste.
Reuben understood the position before
he hnd reached the house---a policeman
on duty In the street gave him the full
est particulars. 1t was the back room
OF the first floor to which he had been
directed, and where he knocked softly
for admittance. Some one crossed the
room lightly, opened the door, and looked
hard at him, with the color fickering
family on her cheeks. II was Mary Hol-
land, pale and thin, who faced him on
the landing place.
"You have found me at last, then?"
she inquired.
They did not shake hands--the shadow
of the past mistrust was still between
them, and there was no getting from Il
IN the first moments Of their meeting.
You know that We have been search.
ing for you--advertising for your said
Reuben.
Eyes; but ! did not care to answer
yet" she replied.
"You are attending upon Edward Pc
tcrsonY'
MY husband--yes."
"Ycur husbandl' repeated Reuben
slowly.
"fIe Il wholly friendless now--ho Is
terribly alone--and at the last have
found the courage to do my duty" he
said.
"Then the little girl-Tots--"
Us mine. II was bis promise that |
should have the child back--it was the
revelation that she lIved--that kent me
silent when my suspicious might have
given clew to the truths which per.
picked you. To have betrayed him nj
that bitter hour was to kill my little rirl.
lie awore lt--and | knew how desperate
! man he was, years ago." she added,
adly. when he first came to Sedge
Hill ! wrote, warning you Of danger
tut not knowing what the danger was
which threatened Sarah Eastbell."
II see," murmured Reuben Culwlck.
II was woman In the tolls, and knew
lot what to do" she continued "When
'arah had disappeared, be said she
hould return In safety to sedge Hill If
would keep my peace--and was fore.
d to trust him. Ah, sIrl do not blame
ne too harshly--it was my childs life.
ny chlld'a happiness against Sarh East.
ellis, and acted like a mother, In the
ne hope Of clasplng her to my heart.
could not have brought your cousin
ack had owned that man for my bus. |
and--I was In the dark with you--and |
~ little Bessie lived"
"And you love this man7"
She answered; "He killed my love
ears ago. do my duty In calm Ap- |
thy, that Is all. Years ago he was nv |
ero. He was honest then, and was |
cry young" she said. I'VE were mar,
led secretly. When he grew tired Of
he, when he went wrong, he abandoned |
ie without remorae, and took my child |
nth him, In a spirit Of revenge that
early broke my heart. My marriage and |
hat chlld's birth were not known to the |
Torld | found at Worcester--although
our mother always doubted me. tried
ard TO live apart from the past, when
believed my little girl was dead, but
all came back last autumn. This" |
he added, almost bitterly, 'is a strange
line for explanation.
Il have not come for explanatlon--I |
ave no right to demand it." said Reu-
en-: ''but let me ask II my father knew
( your marriage to Edward PetersonT p |
II dared not tell him. | was very pooF
i was alone In the world, without a
riend. aud he had confidence In me, and |
ked me for my dead fathers sake.
Would he have wished you to marry me
ad he dreamed Of thisr she added
ith an impressive gesture toward tn, /
Dor OF the sick ruom.
why did be wish this marriage p
Id. Reuben.
"He told me on the day he died that
had ruined my father--deceiyed him
some way of business and got rich
! his disgrace" she said. Heaven
lows II this were true, or the wander
gs Of a demented mind. II Is beyond
If guessing at, and belongs not to our
'esent lives"
Mary Holland It was true" said
euben, solemnly; % bring a proof Of
In his ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
impossible"
He has left yoR all his mosey."
There was a wild scream--an awfpl
u from the room which Mary Hol.
nd, or, rather. Mary Peterson, had
lifted, and Mary ran back into the
amber, followed by Reuben In his
ste to be Of assistance to the alright.
woman.
II was only cry Of delight Captain
sterson had heard all the news.
lis II all true3" he gasped forth, turn.
g to Reuben as II to a friend on whom,
this crisis Of his life, he might rely.
"All the money ls left to Mary Hol.
nd," answered Reuben.
How Is it-how Is 1t tthat-that-thls
a bep he inquired. catching at Reu- I
ms hand and elasping It With his treni- /
Ing fingers; you see how excited
a, but | can bear good news. Good ,
ws will save me yet, please heaven"
There has been discovered another
u, signed BY my father the day before
death. In II my father bequeaths !
whole Of his property to hIa faithful !
end and housekeeper. Mary Holland"
That's my wife," said Peterson.
-