Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1907-12-21
PROLOGUE.

A gray-haired man with SOrr0wful
heart was sitting In his Office reading
a packet of old letters, and now and
then he glanced sadly at faded photo
graph. As he caught the sound Of ap-
preaching footsteps, he hid them in his
desk, and looking up, beheld the figure
Of his confidential clerk standing IN the
doorway.
'Come in, Wilson," he called out, and,
after running quickly through the pa
pers the clerk passed to him, said /:
'sThat'l do, Wilson; and now read over
that agreement to go to Lewis, Jones
& Co. tonight. These other things can
wait until the morning"
He leaned back YEARLY in his chair
and prepared to give as much Of his
mind as was necessary to the recital,
letting the remainder wander, with his
heart, among the. old love-letters hidden
with the photograph away in his desk.
THE STORY.
On a bright May morning a dozen
years ago, Robert Whitehouse rose
from the dead and walked out into the
sunshine A girl Of twenty-five sum-
mers, arrayed in deep mourning, came
timidly forward and sought his hand.
Neither spoke. And as they stood,
with hearts too full for words, the
striking resemblance between the pair
was instantly noticeable; resemblance
penetrating even the haggard express
sion caused by much inward suffering
aye. suffering even in death-on the
face OF the man. For to be dead Is not
necessarily to DO in the grave; there
are places where the worms eat the
heart instead Of the body. And prison
Is one such place.
Robert and, Rosie Whitehouse were
twin brother and sister. Until five
years before nothing had happened to
cluod the sunshine of their young lives
IA sunshine IN which they had romped
ana baslzed together to their hearts
content. And then cloud Of sorrow,
the herald OF tragedy, had suddenly OBJ
secured It, leaving the earth dark and
cold and deSolate. For without warn
ing the brother had been exposed to
the worlds pitiless gaze as a thief, and
then as quickly forgotten in the merci-
ful gloom Of the prison cell.
Forgotten yes, by the thoughtless
crowd, but not forgotten by the two
who loved him. And when the moth
er's broken heart had ceased to beat,
Rosie still remembered, cherishing visit
fully the memory Of the long, sunny
DAYS which had so abruptly faded into
night, and looking bravely into the flu
ture.
And that future was dimly illumined
by certain letters Of fire which her dy-
ing mother had written on Rosie's
heart.
Fired, our engagement must be brok-
en- of. 1t must be from to-day" The
words seemed wrung from the girl
against her will.
"And yet you say you love me"
Love you? ALL Yes. But I have
nc right to bind you to promise when
I may never be able TO fulfill mine.
AS long as Bob needs me- That is
what I promised mother; and he needs
me now more than ever, and may do as
long as 1 live"
The man looked desperate, and he
felt how vain 1t would be to struggle
against what seemed an memorable
fate
1rRut coOpOt Won IOOly after him and
be my wife, tOOI"
''No, Fred, because we have decided
to leave England Bob is determined to
90 out to Western America and take
ND a claim, and how could go with
him IL 1 were your wife7 1t is very
hard, but 1t is easier than seeing him
laid In n drunkard's grave. And that
Is what staying here means. But on
the prairie he Will be safe from tempta-
ton, and he thinks he can become
strong enough to control himself"
The man realized with a pang how
useless 1t would be to argue the mat
ter; Rosie seemed determined, and he
had long known the hopelessness Of her
brothers case while he stayed in Eng
land. For, in spite Of the sisters care
and devotion, Robert Whitehouse had
since his release, slowly given way to
the deadly craving-drink. His early
disgrace and its tragic result had com
pletely broken his weak spirit No one
was more conscious OF his weakness
than himself, and no one had struggled