Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1857-08-29

anu murder III he is proved innocent
ne will return to you. BE calm, / pray
yon.'
| Unclasping her arms from the neck ol
her husband, Agnes boldly confronted the
officer, her blue eyes growing black with
the agony of feeling.
Beware, sir, how you breathe such foul
suspicious of my husband! Beware Of
linking his name with crime! None but
the blacklist hearted could for moment
wish 10 harm him; none but
Hold, hold, madam! you wrong me.
do not say that your husband is guilty;
that remains TO be proved. 1t will be bet
ter for you to remain quiet, and not op-
pose your husbands going with me. If
he is innocent, nothing can harm him!'
Speak not to me of Henry ChanciI's
going to felon's cell. If you take him
from this house, it will not be until after
you have taken my life. Back, sir!--
back!'
Help! help!' cried the officer. And in
moment three men came to his aid. A
pair of strong arms were thrown around
the form of Agnes ChanciI, as she sank
swooning to the floor, moaning, Henry!
Henry!'
For a moment Henry Chancil stood
before his bride, a look Of unutterable ag-
ony sweeping over his features, He made
a movement TO take her in his arms, and
then he held up his menacled hands to
the light, as if to decide whether he might
not free himself for one little moment.
Useless! useless!' he murmured, dropping
his head upon his breast. God in heav>
en- pity me! Agnes! Agnes!' and pressing
his lips to the cold forehead Of his bride,
he went with rapid strides across the hall
and out into the night, guarded by the
stern officers.
Q, the long, weary days and sleepIess
nights that followed to poor, poor Agnes!
days of wretchedness and dispair, when
she wandered about The cottage with the
name of her husband upon her lips. A.
times she grew wild with joy when think
ing of his release and return, and she
would dance like a happy child through
the house and garden; aud then all the
blackness Of the fate of a condemned
criminal, awaiting his execution. would
rush upon her, and she would sink down
powerless, at the very thought.
At last a messenger brought her the
news that her husband had been condemn
ed to death.
i will go to him, then, said Agnes, a
sudden pallor playing over her face. Il
will die with him: Though all others for
sake him, Agnes Chancil will remain true
as Heaven
Your husband is not living, madam
said the man, slowly, and in hesitating
tone of voice. 'On hearing his verdict
from the lips of the judge, he vowed pas
sionateIy, that he would never die upon
the scaffold.'
Thank God for his braveryI' exclaim-
ed Agnes, bowing her white face upon
her hands.
He took his own life, madams and if
innocent before, he went into the presence
of God with black stain upon his soul,
said the stranger, solemnly.
The almost maddened wife slowly rails
ed her head from her hands, at these words,
and as the man ceased speaking, she went
to his side, and said, in a tone of irony
and hate:
Lay not the sin, sir, of suicide at the
door of his soul, but rather to those judges
who stand like foul stains upon the great
page ofright. Do you know, sir, that
curse them? Will you tell them that with
all the might my being, from my in
most soul l curse them? that my whole
life shall be spent in prayers for their
misery, their eternal miseryl Tell them
sir, that | will take my own life, that my
spirit may go nearer to God with its petiS |
ton of misery and despair. Go, sir;
have done!'
That night Agnes Chancil was missing
from her home. A long search was made |
for her through the neighboring woods,
and boats were sent up and down the ri
yer, till all hope of finding her died out
within the hearts of those who searched. |
At last, one of the servants, while draws
ing water from the well, found piece of
ribbon attached to the bucket, which Ag- |
nes had worn about her neck on the day
on which the news Of her husbands death |
was brought to her. After long and
weary trial. the body of the poor creature
was drawn up from the depths of the dark
cold waters. Her blue eyes were open
wide, and cold, bleak stare sat upon her
features, and still about her mouth sat
that fixed look of hate which had settled /
there while she was speaking to the un-
known courier.
Ever since that time, the cottage and
well have been horror to the people of
the village. The father Of the poor, de-