Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1913-12-19
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end OF The sOLILOQUY
BY IDA N. MUNSoN.

BY IDA NJ. MUNSON.
The hours of the short winters day
we're drawing to close The tall, old
fashioned clock in the dark front hall
of the Crawford mansion had already
struck five, and out of doors the early
twilight was ushering in cold, dreary
night. The wind blew the snow in all
directions and whistled down chin
neys with a mournful cadence.
By the open fireplace in her sitting
room sat Mary Crawford. No matter
how imposing the exterior of the Craw-
ford mansion, SO called because its ap-
pearance was superior to that of the
surrounding houses in the town, no
matter how large and grand all the
other rooms in the house might be,
there was one cozy apartment on the
second floor, just over the conserva-
tory, where the sunlight seemed to lin
ger longest and where, even though
the rest of the house might be cold
and cheerless, there was always the
temperature of a soft Indian summer.
Even now, when the darkness was fast
approaching, OA0 OO0I0 dI1uOot 500 "
read by the faint light that came in
through the western window and the
cheerful fire threw such a radiance
over everything in the room.
The little woman by the fire stirred
uneasily and opened her eyes. She
could hardly have been asleep, for
there was tear on her cheek and she
raised one hand to press her forehead
as though it ached
On the small stand near by lay vel
vet case and, drawing the table toward
her, she opened the article, disclosing
neat pair of kid gloves and several
handkerchiefs.
"Barbara's gift" she said softly
"She remembered that this is my
birthday. She always remembers ev
erything that she thinks will please
me, dear girl"
For a while the woman moved her
hand back and forth over the top OF
the velvet cover with a caressing
touch.
Il am old, Barbara" she said to her
self, as if talking to the girl, 81 am
thirty-nine years old today. You are
young. and above all things, l want
you to be happy. 1t does not matter
about me, dear, and although you have
been the same as my own little daugh
ter for ten happy years, happy just be
cause 1 had you, l will let you go and
leave me now. Yes, Barbara, will be
brave and not make you unhappy. You
shall never know how my heart aches
when you go. l will bear it all in sill
ence because of my promise"
Suddenly she arose and, stepping te
the door softly locked it, then knelt
before a cabinet in the room contain
ing several drawers. From a chair
around her neck she drew a key anC
inserted it in the lock of one of the
drawers. Her face was very pale and
her hand trembled so that she clutchet
the side of the cabinet as if for sup
port. After opening it she took out
the only thing it contained; sheet o.
yellow letter paper. The writing was
almost obscured in some places where
tears had fallen on it. Clasping il
tightly with both hands she reseatee
herself in the armchair and read:
) London, England, Nov. 25, 1898.
my dear friend:
Being falsely accused of a crime
for which have received a sentence
of life imprisonment, l write to ask o
you great favor. / know not why
my thoughts turn to you in my trouble
maybe because you once cared fol
me-nevertheless, for the sake of the
only on left me in this world to love
and for the sake of her mother, who il
now in heaven, ask you to keep MI
little daughter, Barbara, and try tt
make her happy. She and our faith
full servant, Judy, will come to yol
with this letter, and if you cannot kee,
my daughter send message directed
to Castle Court, London, at once, 9th
erwlse l shall trust that she is safs
with you
Money will be sent you regularl,
from my banker, and it is my desir,
that Barbara know nothing of my i'm
prisonment and that her life be al
sunshine if possible.
Now may God reward you and bles.
you both until that great day when al
wrongs shall be forever righted.
GILBERT ARNOLD"
Here were written the foIlowin,
words in a feminine hand:
Il, Mary Crawford, promise to do al
in my power to make Barbara Arnol,
happy, and do this for your own dea
sake, Gilbert"
Gently the woman pressed her lip
to the paper where Gilbert Arnold ha,
signed his name and then leaned bacl
in her chair with tired sigh.
She remembered the day he wen
away never to return, because of
| misunderstanding thats she in he
| blind foolishness would not let him Sc
right.
Barbara and Judy had brought tn
| message. How well she remembers
| that day when the sunshine of littl
girls presence had filled the grea
house! From that time her life ha
been one long thought of the child
happiness. His little daughter that b
had sent her!
She was glad he had found a goo
Journalistic Frenehmen.
| mr. Jean RjcheDin demands that th