Project Gutenberg's At the Mercy of Tiberius, by August Evans Wilson

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: At the Mercy of Tiberius

Author: August Evans Wilson

Posting Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #4209]
Release Date: July, 2003
First Posted: December 11, 2001

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS ***

Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines.

AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

A NOVEL

By

AUGUSTA EVANS WILSON

Author of "A Speckled Bird," "Infelice," "Vashti," "Beulah," "St.
Elmo," etc.

Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oftenest in what least we dread;
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
--COWPER.

IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, WHO HAS ENTERED INTO REST.

JTABLE 10 35 1

AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS

CHAPTER I.

"You are obstinate and ungrateful. You would rather see me suffer and
die, than bend your stubborn pride in the effort to obtain relief for
me. You will not try to save me."

The thin, hysterically unsteady voice ended in a sob, and the frail
wasted form of the speaker leaned forward, as if the issue of life or
death hung upon an answer.

The tower clock of a neighboring church began to strike the hour of
noon, and not until the echo of the last stroke had died away, was
there a reply to the appeal.

"Mother, try to be just to me. My pride is for you, not for myself. I
shrink from seeing my mother crawl to the feet of a man, who has
disowned and spurned her; I cannot consent that she should humbly beg
for rights, so unnaturally withheld. Every instinct of my nature
revolts from the step you require of me, and I feel as if you held a
hot iron in your hand, waiting to brand me."

"Your proud sensitiveness runs in a strange groove, and it seems you
would prefer to see me a pauper in a Hospital, rather than go to your
grandfather and ask for help. Beryl, time presses, and if I die for
want of aid, you will be responsible; when it is too late, you will
reproach yourself. If I only knew where and