News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1908-01-22

The child. Eunice, Is not ours For tn
sake OF the moneyed reward which W
knew would undoubtedly be offered 70
her recovery by her wealthy father W
stole her away from her home Her moth
err died at her birth, and /. being traine
nurse, was employed by the father L
come into the house and take entir
charge of the baby. When she was yea
old / secretly married her fathers secre
tary whose learning and brilliant talent
attracted me almost to the point of hyp
nothing me, and together we Matched TIN
scheme of stealing the child as a means
of extracting money from the father. Blu
an unforeseen event thwarted our wei
laid plan. On the very night of our fligh
with the child her father was killed in 8
railroad accident. Somehow the story go
out that he had his child with him, anC
the mutilated body of a year-old girl was
actually found in the wreck and identi
fled as Eunice by some of the servants OF
| the household In this turn of affairs his
| entire large fortune went to the half sis
| ter of Eunice's father, a single woman OF
| about thirty who lived alone in Wash
| ington.
| We wrote to her and told her what we
| had done and offered to give up the child
! for a certain sum, but whether she didn't
| believe us or whether 1t served her pur-
| pose better not to have the child recov-
| GTeu 40 not hUOM. w nave never Idu
| any answer to our repeated eommunica-
lions to her. 1t is now four months since
we came away with the child, and we
| have accomplished nothing.
We are living here incognto on this
out of the way PENNSYLVANIA farm.
1t is my wish to take E,unice to her
aunt The lady has seen the child several
times in her visits of a few days each to
her brothers home in New York. and OF
course she would remember me as her
Caretaker. She always seemed very fond
of Eunice. who is her namesake l do
not believe she would deliberately do her
the wrong of keeping her out of her in
heritance. If do not soon take Eunice
to her the child will have changed past
recognition. | cannot longer endure the
burden of the crime | have committed.
must make amends. But my husband will
not let me expose US both to the risk of
punishment and he still hopes to make
profit out of the child. He says he will
murder me before he will let me confess
our crime. ] never would have done this
wrong of myself. l have been led into it
through my insane passion for this da-
bolically clever and constituencies man.
Tonight must decide my fate. l shall
either depart for Washington with the
child or else l shall die either by my own
hand or that of my husband. leave this
confession which i trust will escape my
husbands eye and fall into the hands OF
honest people.
! shall now write here every fact which
may serve to restore Eunice to her rights.
The sum of $4,000 which l took from my
employers desk the night i fled will be
found pinned to the child's clothing. to be
used In paying the expenses which may
be involved in restoring her to her aunt
or, in case of failure to prove her iden-
tity, to support her until she is able to
take care of herself.
-Four thousand dOllars" unused
Kinross, his face pale with the ex-
element of the story. THE yearly
interest Of that sum would have more
than paid the girls board in this mea
ger household. AMI they have made
a slave of her, not even allowing her
to go to the public school"'
He felt ghoulish glee in the thought
of confronting old Morningstar with
his discovery.
He read on:
The father of the child was the late S.
s. Wolcott, Esq, of the New York city
bar. His half sister is Miss Eunice VOL
colt of - avenue Washington.
Miss Wolcott can identify the child by
the two tiny moles ON her neck just under |
her left ear. for j once heard her say |
when she had the baby on her lap that |
Mr.. Wolcott had two moles in exactly the |
same spot.
The little necklace and locket which will |
be found on the child were given her by |
Miss Wolcott and contain her photograph |
and the child's.
l solemnly affirm that what I have here |
written is true.
BEATRICE DANIELS.
A date twenty years back was affix-
I'd to the paper.
Kinross' heart thumped in his breast,
and he sat transfixed as the hand |
which held the paper fell to his knees.
Eunice was the niece of Miss Eunice
Nolcott, whom he had known all his
ife. They had lived neighbors in the
.ott! Incredible. The foster child of
he Morningstars Wolcott, than
whom a prouder race had never de-
'eloped out of that boat load of immi-
rants that the Mayflower had dump
d on Plymouth Rock! Eunice was
n heiress if her identity could be
'rOved, and Miss WolcOtt would own
Ter. He suddenly saw. with clearness,
he plight of Miss WOlcOtt in this dis
overy of her niece, and cold fear
rept over him that there might be
ONE difficulty in restoring to Eunice
er inheritance. 1t would have been
ifficult enough If it had been attempt
d at the time this confession was
made. But after all these years? He
lad been a youth of eighteen when
Hiss Wolcott had come into her for
une, and he remembered well how 1t
lad changed her mode of living from
style of modest dignity to luxuri-
us elegance How, after all these
ears of lavishness, could she go back
0 a simple habit of life? And then
he hurt to her pride of race (Which in
he absence of anything more substan-
ial to be proud of she had nOurished
nd brooded upon almost morbidly) to
ave to own klnship with a girl reared
u such a sordid environment as that
4 this farm, with less knowledge of
he world than any servant of her
He had tireSome
memory of Miss Wolcott's motherly
warnings to himself in his callow
'outh against dragging in the mire"
lis fine old family name by his lam
ntable lack of that "excluSiyeneSS" |