Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 264: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BY FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCE. through the door into the little corridor which led to the side entrance of the bank, and they could hear him pacing up and down the narrow way; they could have heard him, but they did not, for now their eyes sought each other. Ashton’s were filled with misery un- speakable, and Hope’s with trust that was infinite. “Hope! Hope!” he faltered. “ Must I lose you, my life, my darling? Oh, God, it is horrible—horrible ! ” She sprang to his side and, before he could avoid her, threw her arms around his neck. ‘“‘No—no—no!” she cried. “It is not true! I know it is not true! You are shielding some one else! 1 know that you did not take the money! Say that you did not! Iwill believe! I will believe you, Jack! Say that you did not! I will believe! ” He gently disengaged her arms from his neck and forced her away from him. “T can say nothing, Hope, nothing!’ he replied, so sadly that tears started to her eyes ; but she controlled herself, and the next instant drew her form up haughtily, while with a tinge of cold- ness in her voice she asked: “You will not deny it, even to me? When I have said that if you will say that it is not true, I will believe, you will not deny its truth, even to me?” “ No, Hope, I cannot—I cannot deny it, even to you.” She backed slowly away from him then, towards the door through which she had entered the room. Neither of them saw that the banker had reén- tered the room and was watching the scene with burning eyes, clenched hands, and white, drawn face that had grown older, years older, during the moment or two that he had been ab- sent from the room. “You will not deny it even to me?” she whispered shrilly, with horror in her face and in her eyes. ‘ My God! It is true, then. You are a thief! You!” She would have fallen had not her 255 father grasped her arm and held her upright. “Come away, Hope!” he said, hoarsely, and he led her through the short corridor, out at the door, and almost lifted her into the carriage. ‘“ Home, Albert; take her home,” he said. “I will hire a cab when I am ready to come.” Then he closed the carriage door and stood for a moment watching it as it drove away, and when it had turned the corner and was lost to view, he straightened up, and with resolute tread, reéntered the bank. John Ashton had not moved since they left him. He still stood beyond the table, waiting, for what, he did not know. He had forgotten the theft— the money—he only remembered that he had lost Hope—lost her forever. During a full minute the banker steadily regarded his companion, and at last he broke the silence. “So,” he said, coldly, and his voice, though low toned, cut the air like a cleaver, for there was a latent fierceness in it that is impossible to describe. ‘ You are a thief, John Ashton? You have stabbed me in the back—betrayed my confidence—broken my heart. My God, Jack, is it true? Are you a thief, or did Hope guess aright, and are you shielding somebody else? Answer me, damn you, answer me!” “ You have heard my confession, sir; there is nothing more to say.” Henry Hollister was silent. Nobody but God and himself knew what he suf- fered in that moment. Once before in his life, he had gone through a scene like unto this one. His heart had broken then, and now it was breaking anew; but he was a strong, resolute man—an iron man—and he knew that he could fight out the battle with him- self, and conquer. Presently he dropped his eyes, and they rested upon the burned letter upon ° the table. Instantly he darted towards it. “What is that?” he exclaimed. ¢ ? 39 What have you been | destroys IE. ee @OmR