Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1907-05-16

ly represented as my lover. l feel
that YOU are not alone in this belief; l
feel that another shares it,"
"Yes," l said. thinking cf Samuel
Fleetwood, "my belief is shared by
another"
"Win you tell me who that other is?'
"No; l DO not think have the right"
"At least, SIR" she pleaded mourn
fully, "you will tell me whether it is a
man or woman who trad.ces me!'
l did not wish her to believe that it
was my wife or Eunice, and therefore
replied, ~ will tell you so much, and
no more, it was man."
"Will you see this man again, sir?'
II shall see him, almost to a certain
ty, tomorrow"
"Tell him, then, sir, from me, that
| the person he suspects is my lover,
and whom you saw me embracing this
| afternoon, Is my brother
"Your brother! 1t is simple, nat
ural explanation; but what reason was
| there for secrecy, for concealment!'
IL was fearful of giving you grounds
| to suppose that | had deceived you,
sir did deceive you, but it was an
unconscious. an innocent deceit. When
| said l was an orphan, without rela-
! tive in the world. Indeed. indeed, sir,
l believed that to be the unhappy
truth, MY parents were dead, and the
only brother I had was killed on the
ramDarts when the Germans besieged
Paris. He was but lad at the time,
and when they told me he was dead l
had no reason to doubt them. But in-
stead of having been killed he was
only wounded and taken prisoner, and
| when he was released he went to
! America, intending to make his for
| tune there and return and throw 1t i'll
| my lap. He wrote to me. but did not
receive his letters. In America lie was
unfortunate. Trustful by nature, he
was robbed and deceived, and, without
4 penny in his pocket, he made his way
to England, little dreaming that l was
i'm this country HIS sad wandcrlngs
/ NiTtttfN wv Ittt, 'lohSht mum "N''
here, where | had the Happiness OF
! finding a home and sympathizinG
| friends. We met by accident; my as
tonishmcnt was great; it was rs it he
had risen from his grave. What was ]
| TO do? | had solemnly assured your
good wife ard daughter that | was ut
terly, entirely friendlcss. and through
them You believed this to be so. If |
now informed you to the contrary |
might be proclaiming my own death
| warrant. You might have said, Mad
cmoiscllc ROsalic has practiccd treach.
| cry toward us; she presented herself
| to us in false light, and therefore
| she is unworthy of our confidence; She
shall be dismissed l was so narrowed
| by the fear Of losing this happy home,
in which, after all my troubles, / had
| found peace and rest that I had not
| the courage to undeceive you; but
| after what you have witnessed. sir,
| this afternoon | could no longer re-
main silent My honor, my good name,
| was at stake. and it must be vindi-
| cated-for what else have l left to
nerve and support me in the trials !
nav vet have to endure? | could not
| wait until tomorrow. About to seek
, my couch, I saw you from my bed
| room window, and. blessing the chance,
| hurried down to make my confession.
Forgive me, sir; forgive me! and as
sure me that I have regaincd my
place in your esteem. Tell me you do
not despise me-"
"If your story is true" I said, and
would have proceeded had she not in
terrupted me.
"If, sir, if! Is it possible that you
can doubt me still? l swear, upon
my knees, that 1 have spoken truly"
You are to be pitied," said, mot
despised." saw no reason to doubt
her further. Two angels, my wife
and daughter, had full faith in her;
why should not L? In what she had re-
lated there was not flaw, there was
nothing contrary to reason or opposed
to the ordinary course of human mo-
tves.
"Say that you pardon me, Sir" she
pleaded, land give me your hand as
token of forgiveness" l gave her
my hand, and she murmured, II am
happy. am happyw
The window of my wife's bedroom
was thrown up. and, by the aid of the
light within the chamber | saw the
figure of my wife, clad in white, look
ing out upon the grounds. had been
absent longer than she had expected,
and she was anxious about me.
'Richardw she softly called; her voice
was low and sweet, and fell distinctly
upon my ears.
"Hushv" whispered Mile. Roshlic,
crouching behind me. 'Do not speak
do not move! She must not sec me-"
1t was perhaps foolish on my part to
obey her, but was dimy conscious
that an injurious construction might be
placed upon the circumstance of Mile.
Rosalie and being together ut that
time of night; therefore l held my
tongue. For space of nearly min
ute my wife stood at the window, and
for that space neither Mile. Rosalic
nor moved or spoke, she standing be-
hind me, and clasping me, as if for pro-
lection. Then the window was gently
closed and the blind let down.
Il am safer whispered Mile. Rosalic,
kissing my hand humbly and CRATE
fully. "You will not betray me-you
will keep my secretT"
ut should be told,' l said, ito my
wife and daughter"
LET me tell it TO them," she said;
"let me choose the time! In two or