Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1908-06-26
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The Sacrifice
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
PROLOGUE.

PROLOGUE.
A gray-haired man with a sorrowful
heart was sitting in his Office reading
. packet of old letters, and now and
then he glanced sadly at faded photo
graph. As he caught the sound of up
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 f:
''That'll 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 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 a 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 be 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 Whltehouse were
twin brother and sister. Until five
years before nothing had happened to
cluod the sunshine Of their young lives
"a sunshine in which they had romped
and basked together to their hearts
content. And then a cloud of sorrow,
the herald of tragedy, had suddenly OBJ
scured it, leaving the earth dark and
cold and desolate. For without warn
ing the brother had been exposed to
the worlds pitlless gaze as a thief, and
then as quickly forgotten in the mercl-.
full 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, cherlshing visit
fully the memory of the long, sunny
days which had so abruptly faded into
night, and looking bravely into the fu-
ture.
And that future was dlmly lllumlned
by certain letters of fire which her dy-
ing mother had written on Rosie's
heart.
Erred, our engagement must be brok-
en- off. 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
no right to bind you to a promise when
may never be able to fulfill mine.
AS long as Bob needs me- That is
what l promised mother; and he needs
me now more than ever, and may do as
long as live"
The man looked desperate, and he
felt how vain 1t would be to struggle
against what seemed an lnexorable
fate.
"But cannot you look after him and
be my wife, tooT'
mo, Fred, because we have decided
to leave England. Bob is determined to
go out to Western America and take
up claim, and how could 1 go with
him If were your wife7 1t is very
hard, but 1t is easier than seeing him
laid In a 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 Whltehouse had,
since his release, slowly given way to
the deadly cravlng-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
with such blind desperation against IT.
Nearly two years had passed. Their
prospects were bright at first, and Rosie
had sent glowing letters to Fred at
home. Under her watchful care Bob
had kept very steady, and she began to
dream again Of a sweet little home
away In old England. Then she fell III
with raging fever, and Bob, left with
out her care, had slowly given way to
the old temptation. Thus the new life,
starting with such promise, was now
worse than the obi. Rosle's brave lit
tie neart was almost breaking, and only
tht eagerly awaited letters from her
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