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.