THE TIMES, NEW BLOOMEIEM), PA.. JULY 30, 1878. this wiiy, now that.but all the time with ft secret encouragement. But now, as suddenly as a flash light up the sky and disappears, every shadow of a hope had left his heart. Willi Boynton had been the Inmate of Mr. Mayuard'g home eliu;e hU tenth year, and he was now twenty-five. He was born In South Carollna,b.Ut his father dying, he was sent to Mr. Maynard, a relative, and one who had loved the dead man dearly. Though pnrtly e,nl" eated in the North, he did not lose the fiery nature that had been born In him. He had, however, for the sake of hi chlldlove,orushed hln wild lmpulses,and and subdued his Imperious nature. He possessed a small fortune that en abled him to realize his ambition to be a successful lawyer.and when anxiety and the loss of hope made it incumbent on Jiim, to travel. Ills father was a Col. Boynton, a man greatly esteemed for his wealth and social position, in South Carolina, and he was extremely proud of his lineage, though both father and mother were dend, and he had held no eonespondenee with the other members of the family. Mr. Maynard, for the sake of his friend, had always treated liim as a son, and, Immersed as he was in business, did not see the change that had gradually come over his house hold. Willis Boynton did not meet. Florence again until the next morning at the .breakfast-table. Then she saw what one brief night of agony can accomplish. The face of her lover was as white as death, and bore the stamp of Immeasur able sorrow. Hut he had wrestled with liis angulHh and partly conquered It. His greeting was subdued and manly, but he never once, if he could help it, looked toward Florence. In vain she strove to load his couutenauce he gave her . no opportunity. For several evenings he abseuted him self ; and whenever he met Florencc,hls manner was cool, though kind. Yet he seemed strangely pro-occupied, and more than once Florence caught his glance resting upon her face with an expression she did not like ; but, as he seemed to have given her up at last, she waited patiently. Meantime the stranger, who was to have stayed but a few days, yet lingered. 'Sometimes Florence met him, and the meeting always made her happier. At length he ventured to call, and spent an evening at Mr. Maynard's. The old gentleman was delighted with his mod esty and acquirements. Like the rector, lie pronounced him at once the most agreeable man he had met, and looked at Florence scarchingly as he said so. She could not conceal the sparkle of her eye, or the quick blush that lightened up her whole face, and whatever her father might have thought, he kept it to him self. For many evenings the stranger came, and at last, having taken board at the hotel, he seemed likely to settle for the winter. Now Florence had full oppor tunity to pity and sympathize with Wil lis Boynton. With the whole strength of her heart, Us slumbering emotions at length fairly and thoroughly roused, she loved Gilbert Allington. It was strange, she 'acknowledged to herself it was per haps unmaldenly, but it was also un avoidable. She could not help it. If he had never spoken to her one word of affection, she would still have loved right on if he had left her forever, his image would still have been forever up permost in her heart of hearts. One evening when Gilbert was pres. ent Willis came in. He looked haggard and unhappy, as he always did of late. He did not try to master his passion by noble resolve, or manly patience. The sentiment he cherished was fast chang ing to revenge. If he could not wed Florence, no one else should, If it laid in his power. Florence was singing as he entered. Unconsciously her joyous tones took on a sadness, the atmosphere seemed clouded It would not ring as before with the sweet vibrations of her voice. Willis cast a scowling glance that was not observed toward the twain. Gilbert bent liked one privileged over the musi cian, carefully turned the pages, and seemed entirely absorbed in the voice of the singer and his too pleasant occupa tion. It was the place, the delightful duty that had been his, Willis thought, bitterly, and in his deep-set eyes gleam the fires of vengeful disappointment. Under his arm he held a book, which he placed carelessly upon the centre-table. It was unique in binding, very different from the many richly covered volumes that lay scattered round, a pale, mottled cloth, much worn and somewhat defaced. When the two turned from the piano, Willis had seated himself. Ills features assumed a smile of cordiality, they lfttle knew what smouldering fires it hid. For sometime the conversation was quiet and common-place. Florence watched anxiously, sure from his man ner that he was uneasy and excited. At length the toplcB discussed began to cover a wider range. Willis spoke of travel. Almost Imperceptible they wore led to talk of Australia, A soon, how ever, as that theme was touched the face of Gilbert underwent an entire change. Willis' eyes covered him continually he noticed the evident shrinking, 'lie un easy movement, and a smile of triumph lurked around his lips. All this was read by Florence-. " "You have traveled much, I sup posef said Willis, quietly. " For three years," returned the other, speaking as with an effort. " Have you ever been in Australia?" Willis' tones, look and attitude, were a study. He sat leaning forward a little, his lips parted, his eyes fastened upon Gilbert, and his fingers working un easily. Gilbert Allington started one Instant and his blanched Up was quivering, his cheek devoid of all color, his eyes un steady in their glance, and the whole expression that of a man exceedingly terrified. It was, however, only for a moment. Shivering once, lie came out of the strange, trance-like manner, caught at his self-possession us they say drowning men catch at straws, and held it fast. With the utmost calmness.cven while the astonished gli.nce of Florence was fastened upon him, he answered tho insinuating question. " I have been In Australia ; a glorious country it Is, too." "Did you reside thero long!1" queried Willis, trembling. " Have you any particular reason for wishing to know J"' asked the stranger, his voice changing to a sternness that was almost awful. . " I have," returned Willis. "Then perhaps you will have tho kindness to wave the subject for to night, and meet me at some other place for the transaction of this important business." Willis sank back in Ills chair, breath less. This answer had daunted hlm,had blunted the edge of his cool, revengeful audacity. He turned his eyes fiercely upon the stranger, as he said : " I will meet you to-morrow," and ris ing stormlly, he left tho room. " This man seems to conduct himself strangely," said Gilbert, with a smile, turning to Florence. , She merely answered : "I don't understand it." " I do," was the quick reply. " He Is evidently trying to pick a quarrel with me, for some Insane purpose." " You will not meet him In anger, Mr. Allington I" " Who, IV I have no wish to meet hlin at nil, Miss Florence. I think I understand tho secret of Ids animosity. We must overlook much that seems out of place in those who fancy themselves injured. Yet Heaven knows I would not injure any man ! I have suffered too deeply myself." 'You must remember that he is Southern-born, and of a warmer tem per,by nature.than we of a colder clime,' she said, faintly, trying to excuse his abruptness, though in truth there was no reason why she should, save that love made her pity him, although he was not its object. Besides, she felt the tenderness of the glances that were be stowed upon her, and this appeal to her womanly sympathies made her anxious to soften the errors of one who hod been very kind to her from her earliest rec ollections. For some time nothing more was said. At last Gilbert arose, hastily, almost nervously. He stood by the table, quite close to where she was seated. He gazed down upon her with one of his rare smiles, and seemed about to speak. The strange book that Willis had brought in lay directly under the light of the chandelier. Carelessly he lifted it in his hands, and as carelessly opened it another moment the book was on the floor, he stoop lng with a white face to pick It up again. " Unpardonable carelessness," he said, restoring its disordered pages, and plac ing it in its old position, Florence could not forbear seeing that again some storm of passion or regret was sweeping over his soul, for his hand shook as he put it hack, and his chest heaved. The smile did not return that night, and left alone, Florence, halting between love and a haunting fear, which like a presentiment saddened her, re flected bitterly upon the events of the evening. Something akin to hate sprang up in her bosom toward Boynton, who seemed determined to let no opportuni ty escape him in which he might thwart or distress her. Thinking Hover, she, too, lifted the book, and listlessly open ed it. What made her heart throbheav ily, the blood surge across her cheek and forehead, and her eight grow dim ? It was a list of Australian convicts for years back. What was the meaning of that ominous question which Willis had asked, the ominous book which he had brought that dreadful unquiet man she loved? Eagerly she perused It, looking with a sickening dread at the long array of O's and A 'a, and at last drawing a breath of relief when she saw . that the one name that had power to touch her heart-strings was not there. With a sigh of wearlnoss she placed the book down and tried to throw off the gloomy forebodings that oppressed her, but they would not go away. Darker and more threatening they closed around her soul, till she wished In her anguish that she had never met this man, whose lightest smite was so inestimable precious to her. That night she slept but little, and when she did, her sleep was filled with dis tressing visions. It was well that she could not see the other victim of the Southerner's malice. He sat in his room, without motion. The clock struck out all the hours, until It struck the one that proclaimed mid night. Then ho lifted Ids face. In the dim light It was ghastly. " And I was to ask her to-night and this fiend has come between me and happiness," he whispered hoarsely. " I thought I knew his nice, and I tried In vain to remember where I had seen him. Oh, It Is cruel, cruel I" He arose, changed his thick coat for a dressing-gown, drew on a pair of list slippers, and flung himself moodily in the chair again. " I sec," he murmured, " I am In this man's power, and God help me If he has no mercy and Gold help him, too." Slowly the hours passed by, but he did not seek his couch. Toward morning, he paced tho floor, back and forth ; then, as daylight began to steal into the room he drew toward him a box ot papers (they seemed to be letters) and began to examine them, thrusting some aside, and pluclng others In a small heap. The sun shining In, still found him thus oc cupied. Scarcely tasting his breakfast.he placed the packet In his pocket, as tho day deepened, and going out wended his way to the house of the rec tor. There he was closted for two hours. When he eamo out, the rector came with 1dm, his face scarcely cheerful, but very filendly. As the two parted, the former placed his hand upon Gilbert's shoulder, saying, in a low tone: "Trust in God. I think it will all come out right." "I hope so," said the young man, drearily. When he returned to tho hotcl,he was somewhat surprised to recelvo Willis Boynton's card. That gentleman was in the parlor. He met him with cool civility. "I can hardly fail to understand the object of your coming," he said. " Will you walk up Into my room ?" "Certainly." Willis looked like a man prepared to do a deed of villainy. They entered the pleasant private par lor together. "Now, sir?" said Gilbert, In calm, clear toneB. "I am not afraid of you." " It was not my purpose, I assure you, to create fear; on the contrary, I wish to save one who is dear to me from unnecessary mortification from what, believe me, in one so sensitive, would cause death, perhaps," " Go on.sir. What are yourcharges V" " I met you in Australia, three years ago." "Yes." " Do you remember me V" "I do now. Well?" " You were there a convict." " Go on," said Gilbert calmly. " Good Heaven 1 could I soy more ?" " Yes, much more, Mr. Boynton. Go on." " You were convicted of forgery when a very young man a clerk in a bank ing house in Manchester, England. You see, I know all about it." "Is that all?" " No,lt Is not enough. What has that to do with your present visit V" . "This, that I will not see Florence Maynard sacrificed." " What is she to you ?" " Your coolness is audacious. She is my my sister that is, I regard her in that light." "You love her." " Sir I" cried Willis, turning red. " I say, you love her." " Very well ; and what If I do?" " You are a rejected lover, and wish to wreak your vengeance thus upon her and upon me." " You are Impertinent." "Iam right" , " Great Heaven ! do you think I would see any woman I respected wed ded to a convict?" ' Gilbert grew pale. He arose, walked a few steps, then came near Willis with a resolute fuce. " I wish you to answer me one ques tion," he said. " What Is it? " " Did you ever hear me spoken of by any one?" " I Of course I did. Your course was extraordinary," " How extraordinary ?" " You were considered a bookworm ; and you were, too, n , sort of preacher and a teacher." ' t i "Yes." - ' .: ,'', 'j "That was all." V - " What! was that all that you heard of me ?'. And his piercing eyes seemed to read the very secrets of Willis , Unyntoii'i cowardly soul. J ' "Of course." " Do you dare say that with dellbera tlon, Mr. Boynton ?" " What do you mean ?" " This : that It was told you by every, body and you remember it too that I was an innocent man, Not one of the colonists, not one even the most hard ened among those felons, many of them transported for life but believed In my entire Innocence. You know I was al ways pointed out ; that my story was always told; that I had a bitter enemy, against whom I was powerless In Eng land. Willis Boynton, look at me! In your Inmost soul, you do not believe that I am guilty of the crime charged against me." . " I know that you were transported," said Willis, a red light gleaming In his eyes. "And you know, such was the lean ing toward mercy In England, though I could get no proof, that my punishment was almost commuted ; that ten of the fourteen years were cut olf. Yes, you know you know all this. Now why do you persecute me?" " Because you have not yet been proven Innocent." " But I shall be, so sure as there Is a (iod In heaven. 1 am biding my time, that will one day come." Boynton laughed insultingly. ' In the meantime," he said, sneer Ingly, " with this cloud upon your repu tatlon,you would take that lnuocentand confiding girl to the altar, and make her the wlfo of a convict." " No !" thundered Gilbert. " You In terpret my motives too readily by your own sinister thoughts. I should have done no such thing. Whatever I am, I nm not a coward. Suffice It that I should have been honorable." " Honorable !" he sneered J " honora ble, indeed!" Gilbert controlled himself. Ho had very nearly laid hands upon him; but insanely, wickedly as Willis was acting, he remembered that he loved Florence, and It saved him. " Yes," he said calmly, " I love her too well to cloud her life even by a sus picion. I believe she loves me, and would be willing to wait the Issue of the evidence pending in my behalf." The eyes of Willis Boynton blazed again ; all the evil passions of his nature were roused. He too believed that Flor ence loved this man, who in weeks had won what ho had tolled for years with a patience and assiduity and self-denial that had been admirable In a loftier na ture. ., " I swear Florence Maynard shall not be your wife!" he cried, fiercely. "She shall not bend her pure head to the caresses of a felon. I will brand you, sir. You are a law-breaker : you have worn the chain tho badge of penal servitude and outrageous crime. That is enough to make your name a by word!" Gilbert Allington shivered from head to foot. His eyes were wild, his hands clenched involuntarily. He came to ward Willis, and even he was dismayed. " Don't lay your hands on me!" he said, hoarsely. " I won't submit to it." Gilbert regarded him for a moment. His face changed, his hands fell, his eye lost its fire. " I never struck a man yet," he said, in a strange, earnest whisper. " I never will while God gives me reason, much less you ,for whom I feel a sovereign con tempt. You are unworthy to be touched by me. Go spit your foul venom, if you will ! go ruin me. There's a God above. I believe in him, I serve him. You are powerless before .him, and you cannot barm me ultimately. Your curses will fall upon your own head. You too per haps will some time feel that lofty pride bent low ; you too may shed the bitter tears of regret, and still be innocent. I do not hope this. I only say, as you would hope for mercy, have mercy." " I do not need your advice, nor your good wishes," said Willis, hoarsely. " Go your own way ; I shall go mine. If you do not leave the village, on your head be the consequences. I have warn ed you." And thus they parted. It was nearing twilight. All day poor Florence had been haunted by uneasy thoughts.' Now, seeing a Well-known form coming up the street, she seated herself, almost faint with apprehension. Gilbert was very grave when he en tered, but there was something so beauti ful illuminating his face. Was it hope ? was it Joy ? ' " Florence," ; he said, " can we be aloneafew moments?" " Certainly." ' She was re-assured by his manner. " ! " Florence, I have a story to tell you. A certain boy, an English boy of six. teen, Incurred the undying hate of a man, because yeors before, his mother 'had refused him her hand In marriage. He laid a plan which worked the boy's ruin at least It seemed so. .The boy was transported for the crime of forgery, when he was as Innocent as you are. The plan succeeded but too well. The heart of a gentle English woman was broken; she died the first year her sou was awny. Tho boy was recommended to mercy because there was strong sym pathy In his favor. His punishment was only for a short term of years. In the colony lie had many friends, among them one old, childless man, who had been there twenty-five years. The man died, leaving a large fortune to him. Thus, you see, God In part frustrated the plans of his enemy. That boy tits be fore you a man, who lias been unjustly dealt by." . ... ... Florence started, uttered a low cry, and covered her fuce with her hands. " To-day I received a visit from your friend Willis Boynton. I will not tell you how he treated me what bitter, cruel words he used. He swore I should never marry you, for I told him, as I have longed to tell you,that I love you." Florence did not shrink from him as he took her hand. "After he had gone, there came a stnmgo guest to me, and sat down by my side. It was Despair." Florence shivered a little. "She did not stay long, however, for presently Faith crept In, and In her presence I grew a man again. I brought some old letters to show you that were sent to me from England, but In the us ual mall to-day" (and now his face grew triumphant) " there came a most Im portant letter. Florence, my enemy is dead; he had confessed alK Iam clear not only In the sight or Heaven, but that of my country." "Oh, I am so glad!" cried Florence, springing to her feet, her whole fuce beaming. " It's a forgery!" cried a hollow voice. Gilbert sprang to his feet ; Florence uttered a cry of terror. " So you have been listening?" said Gilbert, In tones of contempt. " Do you think I would be so Insano as to con template even a deed like that, which I could by no possible means prove? No; I would rather cut off this right hand." "I tell you I will brand you," cried Willis, like one frantic. "You have been a convict; never forget that." When Mr. Maynard returned, he was made acquainted with tho full partlcu lars. He called Willis into his study, and reasoned with him. He might as well have talked to a maniac. The man raved forward and back, and was so bit ter in his hostility to Gilbert that his guardian was fearful some harm might be done. .-'... i , r i , " Tell me, will you let your child mar ry an Australian convict? cried Willis, furiously. ' ' " I shall say nothing about it. I have not yet made up my mind; but if my child loved the poorest man on earth, and he was honest, she should marry him. This Allington has been wrong ed, but I do not see but tbatall Is straight now. Such cases excite sympathy, not prejudice. I am sorry you cannot afford to be generous." " I will tell every man, woman, and child in this town what brand he bears upon him!" said Willis, resolutely, de fiantly. ; Mr. Maynard was silent. He saw that this rash thing would be done. There was but one way to avoid it. " Willis," he said, "listen to me. I have your life's secret also In my hands. If you harm my child, you are at my mercy." , . The man glared at hlrn. " I would have spared you if I had seen any mercy In you ; but you must be punished. Willis Boynton, your mother was a slave. I have your free papers, made out when you were six years old, up-stalrs. Now shall I be silent ? or will you run the risk of my resentment ?" - For one moment the room swam round ; the next, Boynton fell to the ground heavily. Weeks of dangerous illness made another man of him. He rose from his bed humbled and chastened and at Gilbert's wedding he gave Flor ence a brother's kiss. Charity for the Fallen. Never say anything damaging to the good name of a woman, it matters not how poor she may be or what her place In society. They have a hard enough time at best, and God help the man w ho would give them a kick down the bill. We are all too free with their names we talk too much about them on our street corner clubs and in public places to be heard of men. We do very wrong. The least little hint that there is some thing wrong, that " she ain't all right," whether spoken in jest or in earnest, is taken up, and like the rolling stone gathers moss as it goes from corner to corner, and at last comes home to the persecuted creature with crushing weight. She has done nothing but keep quiet w hile her idle persecutors have pursued her, and now she is kicked from door to door and has fallen so low that none will do her reverence. Give a dog a bod name and you had as well kill him ; talk about a good woman In street corner clubs and across bar-room counters, and you had as well set her down at once as a social wreck.