Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1905-12-30
he Missing Necklace
LOriginal.l

luS dcIISuI1u1tJ through IeF UEdiD ana
thinking especially of the first man
who has ever been attentive to her. \
warmth comes to her check on recall
ing the compliment he whispered in
her ear as tAey were sailing in a waltz.
Suddenly she puts her hand to hel
throat and gasps:
sob, mammar'
For heavens sake, Bessie, what is
it,"
My necklace! It's gone!''
She had gone to the ball with a cir
clet of pearls Of great value clasped
about her neck and returned without
them. In vain she sought to recall
where she might have dropped them.
Could any thief possibly have stolen up
behind her and unclasped them? All
efforts to account for the loss were
failures. Detectives were put on the
case, but not the slightest cleW did
they ever find. After months of hunt
ting, without success, the jewels were
given up as lost.
Twenty-Five years have passed. Bes-
sic Kingman, now a woman past mid
die age, but unmarried, is sitting in
her boudoir after breakfast scanning
the morning paper. There is a whistle
without, a ring at the doorbell and the
postman leaves the mail A maid
hands her mistress a small package
which, the wrapper being removed,
proves to be a pasteboard box Lift
fY1o fI1O n
man meets the establishment of her
life. ThereA nesting in bed of pink
cotton, is the necklace lost a quarter
of century before.
Curiosity, one of the strongest of our
instincts, prompts her first act. TAX
ing up the wrapper, she studies the
handwriting of the address, She can
see no resemblance to any penmanship
she has ever seen before. One thing,
and one thing only, arrests her atten-
ton. Frank Burril, the young man
who had been devoted to her the night
of the ball at which she had lost her
necklace, had written her several notes,
which she had kept carefully locked in
her writing desk. He had a peculiar
way of making the letter F. This let
ter in the address resembled those in
her notes, but there was not enough
in this to serve as a clew.
Another five years have passed
Elizabeth Kingman is a woman with
more gray than black in her hair and
when she reads uses glasses. She still
I04 y
in her desk, and perhaps once a year
takes them out and reads them over
He has been married for nearly thirty
years, and she has never seen him
since his marriage
One morning on taking up a paper
and glancing at the death notices she
saw an announcement of the death of
his wife. 1t was a few months after
this that she received a visit from her
first and only lover. He was just pass
ing the prime of life for man. Miss
Kingman saw in him traces of that
manly beauty-his engaging smile was
all there-which had so moved her
heart when it was young. Burrill came
often, and the two became fast friends.
and return Of her necklace. Mr.. Bur-
rill StrOve to maintain a serene counte-
nance under her searching gaze, but
could not. Miss Kingman assumed
that he had been tempted in those dan
gerous days of youth and had repented.
She forgave him without telling him
of her forgiveness.
In another year wedding bells rang
for the pair whose hearts had been
united years before. Each possessed
a secret that was kept well guarded
from the other. Except this they were
as one The wife hid her knowledge, or,
rather, belief of which she had no
doubt, that her husband had fallen be-
fore temptation, had repented and
been forgiven. The husband guarded
his own secret which he of living be-
ings alone knew. Their days were Sc
rene except for an occasional cloud
that passed momentarily over their
sun in this one matter of withheld
confidence.
Again the scene changes. An old wo-
man of seventy, who has just buried
her husband, is breaking up her home.
The desk that has long held his papers
must be gone over and all that is no
longer of use destroyed. The old wo-
man spends a morning at this work.
One paper she reads before knowing of
its confidential nature. 1t is this:
My Dear Husband-I have lost your
love under this suspicion ever since you
discovered the necklace. I am i'll and
worn out with anxiety and remorse. Aft
er may years keeping this horrid secret,
L am at last resolved, now that my days
are numbered, to make a confession of
sin committed in my youth. On the night
Of the ball, when you were so attentive to
Miss Kingman as you took her to dance,
her necklace became unclasped and fell
at my feet Mad with jealousy, l placed
the skirt of my dress over it and when
unobserved picked it up. My wish to re-
turn it to her came too late. 1 dared not
admit that l had kept it so long. When
you return 1 wish you to take it and con-
tyive to send it to her without betraying