Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 36 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

— Seat ST - up Jessie; ‘and yet, he says he has proofs that I am his child.” ) “Tf he has proofs, which I am much in- clined to doubt, let him produce them,” an swered Henry. ““ You shall see whether I can not make my claim good. If you feel inclined to lis- ten to my story, I will narrate it to you,” replied Murker. ** Proceed.” | ‘« Fifteen years ago, I fell,in love. with a Jady whose parents were wealthy, and, as I was poor, they looked upon my suit as an unfavorable one; but, the lady loved me, so that I cared little about gaining their con- sent. We met clandestinely for over a year, and our love for each othor was honest, true and pure, I begged of her parents to bestow their child upon me, but they were deaf to all my entreaties. Finding that it evas useless for us to sue further, we eloped and were married. We lived happily for a couple of years, and had a child born to us —Jessie here; but, I took to drink, and, though Iam almost ashamed _ to say it, I treated my wife illy. One night, I came home to find my wife had fled from_me, taking the child with her. From that day until last year, I lost all trace of them, .but this letter comes from the ‘parents of my late wife; I will read you.a few lines of it.” He took from his pocket a large letter, and read a portion of it. .. It was addressed to the old woman in whose charge Jessie had been left, and told that the child’s mo- ther was dead: that. before her death, her parents had repented of tlieir harshness, and, wishing to atone for it as they best could, desired to make Jessie their heiress,’ and that if her father were living he would be received as their son. It was all a mystery. to Henry, and he regarded it with incredulity. “This does not go to prope that Jessie is your child,” Henry said. “Just look at the letter, aud. see the hus. band’s name written out—Archibald Mur- ker—and I believe that is my name. : “Tt is, doubtless, all a Bey” replied Henry. ‘Forgery or no forgery), I shall take Jes. sie away with me, and no one ‘has “a right, | to stay me from my purpose. To-morrow, I will bring legal measures, which cannot be resisted.” Jessie élung to day in despair Murker left the tent, BSA tee elated with the misery he was causing two honest and hopeful hearts. LHD The exhibition over, Henry, as was his wont, accompanied Jessie to her hosel. ‘Henry, do you believe this'man’ 8 story?” asked Jessie of her companion. . ‘No, Ido not. He has ‘proved himself equal to committing & murder, and such al man would not hesitate to” utter ‘lie, or forge a letter,” answered Henry. “ And yet, I fear ‘him, “Henty,’ ~ Oh! b0 much. He may be able to daughter,” sobbed the gilt. “ 2 “Don't weep, Jessie. “Suppose Murker’s story is true, would you fh t be happier to live a life of ease rather than"be' ‘one who is at the mercy and caprice | of a changeable public?” | filled with birds of a rapacious nature. He ‘the fast decaying body éf'a man. j ed {oO 100k at it more closely, and found, in an entirely different man—as if he had lefi “himself, while the other bore a resemblance rove I am his | ‘amply am I ‘repaid. ‘vision’ of 'a ‘pale woman, with’ a pleading : 3 orphan.” —— > TD SS Se ao ae 2 et ee ee a Se. Eee ee Se ee ‘*No, Henry. I have something to tell you, but you must not breathe it to a single soul. Iam going to run away.” ‘Run away?” ** Yes, to escape from this man. I am going to-night, when all is still and quiet. I never—never can live with him.” ‘* Where would you go?” “To the woods, the swamps. I have heard of hunted runaway slaves secreting themselves there, and why not I? Any fate is better than to be given into his keeping.” ‘* You would perish in the swamps, You must give over this wild idea, and endeavor to cheer up. Affairs may not turn out so badly as you anticipate,” ‘*T dare not wait, Henry. TI have deter- mined upon leaving this place, and to-night; for I feel that now is my only chance of es- cape. To-morrow I will be in his hands.” “Then I shall go with you.” You will?” “Yes, Jessie, I will. You will need a protector, and though I am young, yet I will try to be as good a friend as I can. Will you not let me?” “Oh! so cheerfully. ‘But, I can not take you away from a life that you are fond of. What claim haye I upon you, that you should make this great sacrifice?” “The very best of claims, namely, the duty one d@ar friend always owes to an- other. Do you think for a moment that I would quietly remain here and know that you were roaming the world without friend or protector?” replied Henry, his fine face all aglow. And so they made their plans together. It was decided that the escape should be made at midnight. Every thing was got in readiness for the departure. | Murker was gloating over his success, and little thought that his bird would be flown ere he had a chance to catch if, . “His dream was a strange one that, night. He dreamed he was a man many years younger, and that he was passing through | after arranging the few things they deemed a lone and dismal forest. ‘Whistling to keep his courage up, for it was a lonely path he was taking, suddenly he thought the air was wag astonished at the sight, yet he was still ‘more go When he found, lying at his feet, He stoop- the ‘pockets of the coat, letters, notes, nit a small roll of bills. of. He thought to turn’ them ‘to account some day, |. It was a cruel. deéd to rob the dead ag he was doing.’ When he emerged froin that wood it seemed as thougli he was his former self’ in the dread past. ‘He also secured a small locket, in which were placed two Miniatures: one was the’ counterpart of to the girl, Jessie- Murker murmured in his sleep, ‘‘ After long years of waiting, how ‘It is worth all these. years of wandering to be so rewarded in the end.” ‘Then there’ came’ before him a face and: piteous voice, crying, - Wrong not’ - Phe-scene changed) and mails in These he took possession ‘not bear to have you accompany mé. ‘is the * only “hits which ‘does not seem Beadle’s HalfDime Library. the woods again, fleeing for life, to escape the clutches of a grim skeleton, who was in pursuit of him. On and on they fled, the pursuer and pursued, and just as the skele- ton was about to place its long hands upon Murker’s neck, the latter awoke with a loud screair., and covered with a profuse perspira- tion. “What a fool I was to be frightened by a dream,” he exclaimed. He did not dare to close his eyes again that night, but got up and lit a lamp, read- ing, writing, and plotting mischief against an innocent child. And for what? The idol, gold, for which many a human being has bartered his soul. CHAPTER VII. THE DEPARTURE. Tne Boy Clown slept but little that night. He was too intent over his plans, which were not of a very definite nature. He thought Jessie extremely unwise in what she was intending; but he knew the nature of the girl, and felt assured that, as she had made up her mind to escape, it would take a great amount of arguing to turn her from her purpose. ‘Tt ig a great sacrifice T shall undergo,” he said, ‘‘ for I do love this wandering life; and the laughter and applause of the audi- ence are to me very attractive. It is my duty to go with Jessie. I feel it to bea wrong step for both of us; yet I will not let her go alone. ‘What good will come of it? likely we will starve in the woods. We may wander on until we come to some farm-house, where work can be obtained. Right or wrong, I feel that it is my duty to be a protector to Jessie. May God direct us aright, and may good in the end come from where bad is in the beginning.” The clock struck twelve, and, as the last stroke vibrated on the niglit, Henry heard a light tap on the door, and a gentle voice ex- claim, ‘‘ Henry, are you ready?” The “poy” answered the summons, and necessary for their flight they took their departure. It was a lovely night. Beauty was to be seen everywhere. The lofty trées, with their beautiful covering of green, the moon, shining in all its brilliancy, made the scene one of enchanting loveliness. Henry and Jessie forgot for a moment their troubles as. they stopped to admire it. They were veritable: babes in the woods. They seemed ‘to imagine that their trials were almost at an end, when, beginning. ‘“Why are you so silent, Henry?” asked Jessie. ‘““T did not mean to be; but I do not con- sider the step we are titel to be the tight one,” answered her companion. “T feel it to be right, Henry. But I can That indeed, they were only just right.” « Are you afraid’ to trust yourself to my cates? oftie¥ “No, Henry; I know you to be'a good “and faithfdl friend. ’' You hdve''no cause to fly, as fiave. You are losing nearly every thing by thus espousing my cause.” Eomichboo Sj