Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 May 1892 — HEARTS OF GOLD THE HEIRESS OF MAPLE LEAF FARM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HEARTS OF GOLD THE HEIRESS OF MAPLE LEAF FARM

CHAPTER 111. A STARTLING ACCUSATION. “Something’s wrong!” Paul Dalton uttered the words more than once upon, the day that preceded the meeting of two precious rogues at the Ridgeton tavern. ' The field hands repeated them as they east askance glances at their master. Farmer John was ‘‘out o’ sorts,” “in the dumps,” with a temper “exceedingly coirtrarlwise,” and a face that lowered like a rain-fringed cloud. All that day he barely spoke to Ruth; he treated Dalton with gruff incivility; and woe betide the laborer whom he caught shirking his duty. “Wheat’s gone down.” "No; he’s been caught on a bad horsetrade.”

“Mebbe it’s Dalton. He’s getting rather spoony on the girl, and you know Farmer John has set his heart on a match with Ralph Prescott.” These and like gossipy explanations floated on the air—all very far from the [true solution to the mystery of Farmer John’s bad temper, however. Meantime, with Ralph Prescott nursing and developing his spite, and Farmer John storing up wrath for a near explosion, there were two happy, unconscious souls that saw only gold in the dazzling sunshine, and fancied the songs of the birds the sweetest music, in harmony with hearts vibrating to new and delightful emotions. They loved, these two, Ruth - and Paul; they had loved long and purely, but in unexpressed fervor. Now, with the revelation of the white violets, their eyes spoke; a tell-tale flush, an ardent glance, a murmured term of endearment brought them to the threshold of life’s sweetest, holiest experience. If a memory of a false position and a mysterious past shadowed the lover’s heart momentarily he drove it away. If a thought of the stern will of the erratio grandsire, of her stubborn father, with eyes blinded to the deficiencies of Ralph Prescott, came to Ruth’s mind she blotted it out with a realization of the great bliss that had come into her life to overshadow it all. So these two golden hearts, with unseen barriers already placed between them, glided on to the bitter fate that man’s subtlety and the workings of a stern, merciless destiny were weaving for them. “I’ll not speak,” muttered Farmer John as he entered the house for supper, "I’ll not make a mistake and accuse an innocent man. I’ll wait once more. I should miss a penny the way I have fixed things, and I’ll watch again. The next thief who visits my room gets caught.” He was silent and unsocial all the evening meal. Had he been less absorbed in his grim suspicious thoughts of those present, however, he would have noted the lurking figure of Ralph Prescott as he stole Into the house and then stole out of it again. The meal over, with a quick glance at Ruth, Paul Dalton left the room. The far lifer supposed he had gone to his own apartment and sat down to read the weekly newspaper. At his task—for it was such that evening, with fiis mind tom with conflicting doubts —Farmer John moved restlessly, lay down the paper, took it up again, pondered, dozed and finally fell into a nap.

He was aroused about nine o’clock by the entrance of Paul Dalton, apparently from up stairs. A minute later Euth appeared, her cheeks flushed, her eyes vaguely questioning the keen glance her father fastened upon her. About to ask her if she had been to visit a girl friend on the next farm, John Elliott -was interrupted by the entrance of two farm hands. They had decided to leave his employ with the morning, and, according to agreement had come for their pay. “Better stay in a comfortable home for the winter, boys,” spqke Elliott, always considerate to his help. No, the men were obdurate. They had quite a little store of savings, and their ambition was to try the attractions in the way of money-making of the great, magnetic city. “All right. What do I owe you?” queried the farmer, “He’ll tell, he’s got it all down in black and white,” returned one of the men, with a nod to Paul, whose figures never made a mistake in their admiring conviotion. Paul got down the books and stated the amount. Farmer John took out his keys, and, lamp in hand, proceeded to his room up-stairs. Those below heard a startled cry a minute later. Then the angry tramp of a hurried man’s feet, and John Elliott re-entered the room. His face was white with passion, his eyes were terrible. Absorbed with some overwhelming emotion, he seemed on the verge Of choking. In one hand, he. bore the lamp, in the other, a roll of bank-notes. Placing the lamp on the table, trembling like a leaf, A pent-up volcano of rage, he counted out several of the bills, and extended them to the wondering Paul Dalton. “There’s your month’s pay,” he said, In a tone that grated on Buth’s alarmed ears until she shuddered. “Take it, pack your traps and go!” “Mr. Elliott!” cried Dalton, in dumfounded bewilderment, “what does this mean?” “Go!” snapped the farmer, savagely. **Be wise, young man, don’t tempt me to speak! You know why. I’ve found you out. Go, while you may, before I forget that you were once honest, once a help to me. Go!” “Father, are you mad?” cried Euth, advancing to Elliott’s side. “This ain’t your place to speak,” interrupted the farmer sternly, putting her away with his hand. “Paul Walton, I have no time to waste on you. You’ve heard me —go!” “Not until I know what this extraordinary accusation means,” responded Walton firmly, and flushing with indignation. “What does it mean!” fairly roared Elliott, losing all control of himself. “You will have the truth, will you? You Won’t leave matters as they are? What

BYGENEVIEVE ULMER.

does it mean? Dare you ask me, ingrate, hypocrite?” Ruth Elliott turned frightfully pale, but an indignant flush appeared on either cheek. “Father!” she cried reproachfully. “Do not forget that Mr. Walton is a gentleman.” “A gentleman!” biased out Farmer Elliott. “No, I call him —a thief! ”

CHAPTER IV. DENOUNCED. The scene that ensued to the wild declaration of Farmer John was a startling tableau. Somewhere back In Paul Walton’s life there had been a time when that proud spirit of his would have sprang to arms in a flash, at the touch of the goad of injustice. His flashing eyes, his quiokenlng breath showed it now, as with clenched hands he strode forward, as If to lay the author of the daring accusation at his feet. Then, with superb control, and remembering that his accuser was the father of the woman he loved, the young man folded his arms calmly and said, In clear, steady tones: “Mr. Elliott, you will regret those unjust words. You are laboring under some honest mistake. lam no thief.” John Elliott tided to crush the speaker with a single look of utter incredulity and contempt. Then, firm in the conviction that audacious hypocrisy deserved its fate, with merciless roughness he told his story. He had missed various sums of money for a month past, first a trifle, then quite a large amount.

Someone was in the habit of feloniously entering his room and rifling the cabinet in which he kept his money. At six o’clock that evening he had visited his room, assured himself of the exaot contents of the cabinet, and had looked it securely. Since then, no one had gone into the upper portion of the house except the accused. At this statement, Dalton’s lips moved as If to speak. Then with a start and a glance at Ruth, he allowed it to go unoontradicted. When he went up stairs to obtain the money for the men, Farmer John peroeived to his amazement, as he opened the cabinet, that two packages of banknote, representing nearly four hundred dollars, were missing. He had entertained grave suspicions of his superintendent before. Impulse drove him to enter his room. A disarranged pillow on the bed directed a searoh. Beneath it he had found—one of the packages, the one now in his hand. More than that, on the floor of the room he had picked up a key. It fitted to the cabinet. Paul Dalton was an accomplished thief. “You entered my room to-night,” was the unwavering accusation; “you stole the money.” “He is innocent!" A wild, convincing cry, expanding with the certainty of proof, sentient with the trustfulness of a loving woman’s heart, the words rang forth from Ruth Elliott’s lips. She knew! Oh! with happy, fervent delight she realized the frail rook of certainty upon which her prejudiced father had erected a stupendous fabrio of suspicion. “Girl!” scowled Elliott angrily, “I told you once that this is no concern of yours.” “No, it is mine alone,” interrupted Walton quickly. “Ruth,” he whispered tumultuously, “silence! To reveal the truth, in his present mood, would invoke his deepest anger.” With a moan Ruth Elliott sank to a chair, her face colorless, her heart fluttering like an imprisoned bird. Paul Walton had spoken truly. He was innocent; she knew it He had not been near his room that evening. A loving tryst at the moonlit glade had filled' in those two precious hours, and her lips were sealed, because he had bade her be silent. . But he was innocent. Oh, the joy of it! Standing there, accused, mute for her sake, her heart went out to him in strengthened love. “You can give up the other package of money or not, as you ohoose,” spoke Farmer John. “I shall not have you arrested on account of your past services, but you must leave this house tonight; you must go at once.” “Innocent or guilty?" murmured Walton.

“Innocent? Does the key show it? Does hidden plunder show it?” “I never saw key or money before. Some one placed them in my room, some enemy ” “Bah!" scornfully interrupted Elliott, “you have heard my decision —go!” “He shall not go.” Trembling all over, yet with resolute face, Euth stole to the side of her accused lover. She caught his hand in her own. Love, unmistakable, unhidden from all the world, spoke in her words, manner, and attitude. “Are you crazy?” exclaimed herfather, staring vaguely at her glowing face. “Girl!” in a terrible tone of suspicion, “what does this mean?” “It means that I know him to be innooent—that, in one word; I can prove it. He did not steal your money because he was not in the house to-night—he was was not in the house to-night ” “Euth—Euth, silence! Do you not see that this will anger him ” “ I will speak! He was not in the house, because he met me at the stile. He met me there because our troth is plighted, and I love him against all the world, against all your cruel unjust accusations." She flung herself into his arms as she spoke, and then, woman-like, her strength, resolution, and defiance vanished, and she burst into tears. Into the amazed face of John Elliott blazed a furious rage. With a cry more like a roar than anything else, he tore Euth from the clasp of her lover. Boaring like a madman, he confronted Paul Dalton, menacing him, anathematizing him, ready to crush him with uplifted hands. “Thief! Miscreant! Hypocrite!” he fairly choked out. “Oh! I could forgive a thief of money, but this —you serpent, with your smooth, wily ways, to steal my girl’s heart—go, I warn you, or I will do you harm!” The two astounded laborers, well knowing Farmer John’s ungovernable temper, pressed Dalton toward the door. With a last look at the crushed and weeping Euth, the accused turned upon her father.

"John Elliott,” he spoke firmly, almost sadly, “some day you will regret your unjust accusation—the truth concerning tbai will come to light soon. As to Ruth, a heart of stone could not help loving her. You drive me from your door, ruined in reputation and happiness. I will never darken its threshold again until I can stand before all men, by your own words proven innocent of the hideous charge you bring against me.” “That will never be. Don’t be in a hurry, Mr. Paul Dalton. I have something to say to you.” The Impressive tableau was rudely disturbed by the jeering, bantering words. The door had opened, and, his face flushed with drink and excitement, his malevolent eyes glowing with the certainty of a mean and crushing revenge, Ralph Prescott entered the room. “What’s this?” thundered Farmer John, his brows knit frowningly. “I’ve heard your talk from the outside,” explained Prescott, glibly. "I’ve heard this highly indignant gentleman’s high-flown talk, too. He’s innocent, is he? Then he’s changed from what he once was. Time to find him out, Mr. Elliott—time to get him out ol the house where he’s lurked, a hypocrite, a serpent, so long." “What do you mean?” demanded Farmer John, dubiously. “I mean,” replied Prescott, his face aflame with concentrated delight and malignity, “that Paul Dalton is worsa than a thief! ” “Worse than a thief!” repeated Elliott, excitedly. “Yes, I charge him —and I dare him to deny it—with being an ex-oonviotl" |TO BE CONTINUED. I