Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1859-08-20
MARIAN DEANS STORY.

TcoNfINUEp.I 4-t .[filfg4
The church bell rang just then, and the two
men, to my great relief, left the room. Thai
conversation had no meaning for me, but wa,
simply disgusting and horrible; 50 much 40.
that could hardly bear to take my old seat il
the church, when they two were standing be.
fore the pulpit. Their faces were q fittI,
Redeemed, but they were both perfectly Goo
and gentlemanly. glee class had brer
furmed, and, ct fathers request, L had ioined
i;. Mr. Bates was to 20 around that night
and try their voices separately, 90 that hs
might class and seat them rs he liked I "a,
far back from the front, and dreaded his an.
prosch, not 50 much because L was sfra;a Z,
sing alone, but because loathed him.
noticed, as he came up the aisle, thai be wa,
about Philip height and size, and hated him
for 1t. He came at last and leaned over the
pew door, so thatI felt his hot breath on my
cheek. .-e--.--E EE..srtz.z-oJi a = =
Now, Marian, bird, - said he, holding the
bow on the strings of his violin, ready to ac-
company me. 1 was startled by his familisri-
ty, and glanced sc0rnfully up at him, and at
the white hand which held the bow. The
middle finger Of his right hand, to the second
joint, was gone! 1t flashed upon me. did not
sing. sprang to my feet, and seized his arm,
while my voice rang shrilly through the house.
-'Robber murderer your hand, your hand ~
His face whitened, but he shook me Of, as
cOolly as he would spider that had dropped
ON his sleeve, and, with a grasp that WAS I'm
reality like iron, but seemed gentle as a
uOman's, thrust me back into my seat I strug-
gled hercely, and shrieked out my charges
against him, and my sorrow for Philip, for nv
feelings had been too long bent up and hidden
to stop for any thing now. Some of the timid
ones fed, and the curious gathered about me.
They almost sufocated me- -a...f y :
''She IS mad. poor thing" said Mr. Bates. az
leaned back IN the pew, gasping for breath
i was not mad; saw Mr.. tongreve's pale
frightened face in the back ground, and cried
"ut 70 Nun, tnat, II ne was man, he would tell
the truth, and not let the law do double ynur-
der. Mr.. Congreye covered down out of sight.
and Mr.. Bates said his friend was so tender
hearted ne was not q TO live in this hard world
and he had better 90 right of TO his hotel. "a
his cooiness baffied me, and turned eyery.
thing that was in my favor against me. He was
80 full Of pity and forgiveness for me. his nc
euser, that they looked upon him as almost
demigcd. VI he had let me alone-if thew had
not crowded about me so, should have grown
calm, but ne kept near me, and talked to me,
and about me, until il seemed that should go
mad IN reality When they brought a sleigh
to the door to take me home, he got in too, and
with ms most deyilish cunning kept me in a
perfect fever Of terror and hate all the way
1t way easy enough then TO cheat father Desn
with hls story, for he had never seon, his quiet
ittle Marian in such a mood before
Ihey ADDED so much to my behavior in the
church, and Mr.. Bates was so respectable. and
90 melancholy about il, that every one took. At
ior granted was crazy; and the children in
streets called me ''crsIy Marian" I was not
crazy, though L may have seemed So for I
always talked of what was uppermost in NV
mind, IN the vain hope that some one would
believe me; and people said twas all for love.
and twas pity / should set my heart on such
a hardened villain as Philip Southey'' 1t was
for love, but it was also for justice, and what L
would have done for any innocent soul, suffer
ing wrongfully
Philips trial was put off until the early fall.
The trial was a mOckery; L say it in the face
Of the world Friendless without money or
influence, he was kept in the jail Of his native
village within sight and hearing of the places
where his childhood was spent, was kept to
pine, and to weary himself out with hopeless
wishes, while his enemies were getting stronger
proof against him. The truth as bad enough
and may GOd forgive those who lied about him
lie had, on the MI ght of the robbery travelled
over that same rosd-and although father
swore that he had called at bis house at half
past nine, that was nothing in his favor, as
Mr.. Barnard could not tell what time in the
evening he was robbed, and the horse Philip
rode was very swift one. His case was hope
less; he was tried and found guilty In con-
slderatlOn OF his youth, his previous good char
acter, and his repentance, he was only sem
ten.ed to ten years imprisonment, with hard
labor. Only ten of his best years, and his
whole life made miserable by the shame and
degradation of the prison. Father said it was
urjust-and some of them hinted that he had
helped secrete the money, which had never
been found. ... p 7--ra.F
In one week, Philip was to be removed to
the prison. knew it was of no use TO appeal
10 father, or any one else, for the privilege of
seeing him; so late in the evening 1 stole up to
my INff Ia . L..
from their many wrapping, my mothers gold
beads. This was the one gold link that bound
me TO that mother whom could not remember.
i waited until father and mother Dean were
asleep, and then stole out, along the lonesome
street, to the village. hurried past the lighted
stores and ofhces-the windows, where / could
see such dear giimpses of home-and past the
church, which hated because had there
mrs: seen Darlington Bates. Past all these to
the great dismal Jail, I found the jsilor. and
put my precious beads in his hands don't
know what said to him. but he threw them
back, rs though they had been a serpent and
had bitten him, and took me along the cold
Stone corridors, to the room where / found
Philip. l thought had come to comfort him,
but he was Drawer than l. All his wrongs
could not break his noble spirit, nor bow ii
down, 50 long as he could feel that he was in
nocent. He had fretted at first, for my sake,
and because il was unjust; but he was resigned
l4pN II was almost tne resignation OF despair,
but would not disturb his calmness by telling
him what heard in the hotel. would not
add one drop to the bitterness of his cup, nor 10
the bitter thoughts he must have in his lonely
life. L told hun believed him innocent
i knOwit" he said. calmly, II have known
II all along, and it has helped me to look my
acc Irssrs in the face II is better to be wrongei
than to do wrong, and ten years are not much,
Marianh 80 Ell ~
There in that prison room, promised. that.
at the end, Of ten yesrs, if q Od spared both our
lives, | would be his wife-thatf 1 would love
and remember him through all those Ten year;
aad at the end, We would begin life together,
aney. .rrI = -
The j1iiOr came for me, and he bade me
good hye," eheerfulIy; but when looked
back in The doorway, he had covered his face
with his Inansoled hands. 1 fear his spirit was
not 80 calm aS bis words 1873 .....
Five years Of the ten had nearly passed away,
snd was working at farmers many miles
IRON my old home. Father and mother we're
both dead, and was alone in the world We
hSd almost starved on the little farm; and
when Il was sold and the debts were paid, there
was Jast nothing coming to me. did not care,
ior was young and strong, and had something
70 work Tor. laid up ali my little earnings,
n m