Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1908-07-31

up by him in mistake for his own.
80 Austin is going to marry Heriot's
sisterP' were the first words that caught
his eye as, without glancing at the hand
writing, he opened it to read again what
Nan had said about her brother "Its
good to know that the Heriots bear no
malice. | should be sorry to think I'd
spoiled old Austin's life as we'll as my
own" Then on the opposite page the
name stood out clearly again. 81 wish
Herlot or Marvyn or some of the fell
lows would write to me-or even the
governor. It's more than / deserve.
know; but even black sheep have feel
ings, and regular good old rowing
from one or the other of them would be
preferable to this long unbroken silence.
Even Austin never mentions it. Some
times | wonder whether it's possible that
they don't know. But | don't see how
you have made things right for Heriot
without telling the whole story, and you
must have done that long ago"
What did it mean? Austin wondered.
vaguely at first, attaching but little i'm
portanee to the rather disconnected sem
fences until the frequent repetition of
Herlot's name forced itself upon MS no.
tlee Then by degrees a strange look
crept over his faee-there was horror in
1T, and sternness, and kind of shrinking
rePulsion-and as the minutes went by
he still sat there, his eyes fixed on those
lines with strained intentness, reading
them again and again, and striving now
TO read between them as well.
Presently he heard a soft football on
tie stairs, the rustic of woman's gar
ments, some one crossing the hall. He
raised his head and listened, but the
footsteps passed on in the direction of
the library. Some minutes he waited.
on the alert for the hghtest sound. but
he did not hear them repass, and at last
he rose from his chair and, with the
letter still in his hand, went out of the
room and towards the one they had all
quilted only three-quarters of an hour
before.
Only faint stream of light from a.
small hand lamp that had been set down
on the center table came through the
open doorway, but it showed him what
he had expected to see-his mother, in
her dressing gown, moving aside the pa
pers and magazines that were scattered,
and glancing about her with feverish
eagerness, as though in search of some
thing she had mislaid
Austin, have you seen" She had
heard him across the hall and came to
the door, but, turning for a moment to
speak to him, the question she had been
about to put died away on her lips, and
into her eyes came such a look as Aus.
tin Lynthwaite had never seen in his
mothers eyes before
You are looking for Guys letter ?"
l. \
in his own ears so cold and unrecogniz-
able. This is It. I picked it up in mis-
take and took it into the other room
thinking it was Mans"
You've not read it 2" she asked sharp
iy. Then she added, with forced light
ness, Austin, you should mott was
mine-Guy's letter to his mother"
What has Guy to say-even to his
rnother-that the rest of his family may
not hear? Yes, | have read it-not be-
ginning at the first line and reading on,
deliberately to the end, if that is what
you mean, but the portions that first
caugEt my eye-a few sentences on the
inside pages"
He was holding the letter towards
her, and she took it from him, her eyes
meeting his with strained fxity and
dread
"Then-you know-you understand"
Il only know what that letter vaguely
tells me-that there is some secret you
and Guy are sharing in which the rest
of us have no part. | understand moth
ing yet. But l want to understand /
want you to tell me plainly what those
sentences mean, SO that, if ! suspect, I
may even yet find my suspicious to be
without cause"
what right have you," she said. keep
ing up the struggle for silence TO the
last. ''to be suspicious of me, your
motherf3"
Il should have no right if / had not
read that letter. Having read it
Mother, mother, what does it meant"
She did not speak, but stood with her
eyes gazing fixedly into his, her face and
lips white and rigid Her very silence
gave him his answer, and, sinking down
by the table, he bowed his head on his
arms with "a bitter cry.
mot that" he said. "Mother-my 4
but that! Don't tell |
me that you've let Heriot suffer all these |
months for Guys sin--that through us
an innocent man has been punished for |
crime committed by one of ourselves |
that you knew the truth and have been |
shielding Cay all this time!"
II did KNOW have been shielding |
Guy. Not from the first. All, not that, |
Austin! Not until the trial was over /
and Lance Heri0t had received his SEN |
tence. 1t was the night you went back |
to town that he told me; the night
don't you remember when we were 1
speaking of his going TO India. Your
father was dining out that night, and /
Guy and sat together here to talk the
matter over tried to dissuade him;
/ didn't want him to go, as you know.
He told meas he had told you already /
that he was in debt, that he had got
into a wild set, that he hated the work
in Deavin's Office.
Il offered to speak to his father for
him-ask him to pay his debts and give
him a fresh start And then at LAST
pushing the hair back from her fore
head with agitated ingers--"he told me
his real reasons for wanting to leave
England. He told me-that--the horri-
BILE thing I've never been able TO get out
Z !. sxxa4- /