|Chapter Title||A LETTER DELAYED TOO LONG.|
|Newspaper Title||The Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 - 1950)|
|Trove Title||A Terrible Wrong|
A TERRIBLE WRONG.
Bt Mrs. Haeriet Lewis. Author of- The Double Life.' j,tml Darlin'notVs Crime' §-c.
CHAPTER VI. A LKTTKii ni:r,AYKn mo r.oxc:
The cal) window was oponinl, ami at thai; nioniont a girl's laco, half hidden by a voil, was thrust, out. 'Are you]\lr. Itedhum r1' aslcod the girl's xoko, wliicli seemed to him the sweetest he had ever heard. ' Yes, miss !' answered the farmer,
drawing 'nearer. ' Then you must be my relation. How near I do not know. I am Dolores Red bum,' The farmer, 'repeated the name in hewil dormant, while anathematising . himself, for -not having sent- his letter snonrrr To ]\lrs. Wntkyn. '? T hope yon arc not offended with me for coming unnslced,' said the soft voice, so, full of music. ' But
'-' 'TMk;. VVatkyn sails to-morrow from Liverpool for Canada. And I have no where to go, so she sent mo to you, until her friends can procure me a situation as governess. Have I done wrong in coming ?' Her face was still half veiled, but her voice went to John Redburn's
heart. ?' Yon can stay,' he said, grnffly. ' You had better get out and ride home with me.' He opened the door and the girl sprang lightly out. The cabman was dismissed. Doloi'es drew her veil closely, and citing to the farmer's
' Bo you know,' she said, ' 1 never . saw one of my relatives before in my life, that I can remember ? It is so good to iincl someone of my own name and blood. What relation are you to me, Mr. Redburn ?' ' I cannot explain it now,' said the farmer1, confusedly. ' But you may call me Uncle John, if you like.' The next instant lie regretted this concession, but it was too late to re tract it. He led the young lady to his waggon, explained to the astonish ed Joe that this was Miss Dolores Redbnrn, a distant relative, who was going1 out. to the farm upon a visit.
and installed her upon the spring board beside himself. ? The horse was then started in the direction of home. 'What will mother say ?' thought the farmer, as ho neared his home, a cold persjiirat inn springing out upon his face. ' 1 eoiild't . lie^J bringing the girl. How could I get rid of her ? I did not really see her face. ' I. wonder ifshe loots lil:o poor, lost Queenie. However she looks, mother 'will hate her, and Mary will make her life a burden. Poor young thing, she's come to a hard place. There's a. fatality, in her coming — a fatality that I sup pose we could no moi'e escape than we can escape death. But what, will, come of it ? Something terrible, 1 know.'