Bonners Ferry herald. [volume] (Bonners Ferry, Idaho) 1904-current, 1917-07-31


II never said that" Craven observed
thoughtfully. II did say that, If it
was your wish and for your happiness,
gave my consent gladly. 1t wouldn't
be like me, would it, to wish unhappi-
ness to my own flesh and blood?"
"No-it wasn't like you: that's why
I didn't understand. lit seemed as
If you'd turned against me-"
'Liddy-dear
"Oh, know l was wrong; but what
could I think? You wouldn't write.
But l knew if l could see and talk to
you, 1 could make you understand. SO
l pawned some things-some of your
presents-and got enough money for
my passage. And now"
Her voice was breaking. Craven
passed an arm round her and drew her
close to him. "There, my dear girl,
therei''
"And now-Tm in your wayl"
Lydia !" He had lost none of his
old-time trick of quieting her with
show of righteous indignation. you've
no right to talk like that to your old
daddyi"
"What am I to think? I surprise
you making love-you are angry with
me"
"Not angry, dearie, but so surprised
was hardly myself. Do be quiet now
for a time, and let me do the talking
Listen, and learn never to judge a
man hastily. Has it never struck you
how little you really know about our
family history?"
"How often have asked you"
"Ah, but that was long ago, when
you were-ah-too young to under
stand. 1 never meant to keep you per-
manently in the dark. In the first
place, you've always believed yourself
the child Of American parents"
"But surely" the girl expostulated.
Mrs. Grummle told me-"
"What she believed, too, no doubt.
The truth is, your mother was an Amer
lean; but I'm British to the marrow of
me. Craven's a good English name,
you know. Not that it matters. / cut
away from my people forever when
they tried to prevent my marrying the
woman 1 loved, an American girl
who'd taken to the stage and somehow
drifted to London. Well, we defied
the family, and 1t disowned me, and /
went on the stage with my wife. When
you were born-yes, in Mrs. Grum-
niles, Bloomsbury-our combined pay
didn't run to anything much. Most
Of the time one of us was out Of a
Job. Still, we were happy enough till
we went to America"
He was silent for several minutes,
apparently lost In memories.
Lydia, fearing to interrupt waited
In mute fascination. Something of
this history she had guessed; much
she might have guessed from words,
hints, clues, carelessly sown In the
past; but little or nothing had she ever
known definitely.
you weren't strong child, and we
feared the effect on you of the Atlantic
voyage. Besides, our engagement was
to last eight weeks only. So we left
you in Mrs. Grummle's care. Five
weeks after we reached New York
your mother came down with typhoid.
A month later she died; and when
had paid funeral expenses 1 was pen
niless in a strange land, our company
had gone back home, and my chance
of ever seeing England again was to
earn enough money for my return pas
sage. / wrote Mrs. Grummle to look
out for you, and But this isn't a
hard-luck story. Ultimately left the
stage for employment more attractive
and better paid; but it meant perma-
nent residence in America. However
nothing called me back 10 England,
since you were in good hands. think
we may say that for Mrs. Grummle."
"She was always kind" Lydia af-
firmed gently.
"When could afford a trip back to
England, / found you in the best of
condition, and it seemed hardly right