The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1868-05-07

NO. az.
There the prisoner sat alone in hi,
gloomy cell, countingthc slow moments
Of the last evening before his trial
as she counted the dreary seconds since
his arrest. Three weeks of imprison.
ment and suffering had changed Char.
'le very much, for Charlie had suffered
not only the humiliation and horror of
MS trial. and the anticipation of his al.
most inevitable doom, but also from the
anguish OF believing that Flora was in.
different to his fate. As he had told
her ne would die rather than bctrav
her; but as day after day had passed
Without one line from her Of gratitude
or sympathy, his heart had grown
heavy with despair that made death
seem after all, but lesser evil than q
life without hope. He loved Flora with
all the energy of a passionate and faith.
ful nature, he had acknowledged this
himself before be parted with her, and
now ne was ready to give up every
thing for her, even life itself; but she
must be cold, cruel, heartless coquette,
that she could thus desert him in hi,
misery. Sometimes lie had tried to
think this, but then the remembrance
OF the tone OF her voice as she badc
him goodbye, the earnest look of her
eyes as they met his, would thrill him
With conviction of her truthfulness
and love-a Wild hope that she, too,
had responded to his love. Then he
would think, as he recalled the noble
beauty Of her countenance, and remem-
bered all that he knew Of her lovely
character, th&t this woman was worth
dying for, and he would feel almost.
with exultation,, that when she realized
that he had died to save her fair name
from the possibility Of suspicion, she
would know bow much he had loved
her, and perhaps weep over his untime-
ly fate.
1t never occurred to him that Flora
might not hear of trial which he
knew had made a great sensatio,
among all his acquaintance, and be
could not account for her silence upon
any supposltion but her Indifference -
and yet she had been very kind to him,
and he could not understand how it
was possible for her, with all her nobil-
ity OF nature, thus to desert even a
friend in the hour of need. No! He
would not believe her capable of any,
thing that was not lovely and right, he
would be faithful to his belief in her
to the last moment of his life, and when
that inevitable end came, an end which
he had tried to teach himself to con-
template with unfaltering courage, his
last thought should be of her. She
might be Indifferent to him; she mi sht
think it her duty to herself and little
daus hter to permit this sacrifice for the
sake OF her fame, but he would love
her to the very last, and die as he had
promised her, to prove his devotion.
And yet that idea of death was not
attractive to this handsome and healthy
young man, the silence and darkness of
tho grave, and that, too, a dishonored
grave, were utterably horrible; and the
contemplation of that awful death at
the hangman's hands, would curdle his
blood with dread he could not con-
troll. He might be brave as Douglas
and chivaIrous as Sydney; but to prove
his devotion in this way by enduring a
a felon's tate, required surely greater
degree Of moral and physical courage
than any deed related in the romances
of old. And yet this young man, who
a few weeks ago had seemed in nowisc
different to every other handsome and
well-drcssed society man, was capable of
a heroism at which even the brave
heart of a Bayard might have recoiled
in terror. Life, and name and fame,
which are more than life. he was about
to sacrifice to save a woman's honor,
and prove the depth aud sincerity of
love that was perhaps after all uure-
Quilted.
1t must not be supposed that in all
these weeks Charlie had been wholly
without the consolation of friends but
most Of those who intended to comfort
him, only tormented him with their in
cessant entreatics to him to exculpate
himself: Indeed the temptation to be-
tray Flora and save himself was perpet-
ual. His father, who had been with
him from the first, was firmly convinced
Of his sons innocelce, and who had
tried prayers, commands. threats, and
entreat'es to induce him to tell him
how he had spent that fatal night. 1t
was all in vain. Charlie suffered hor-
ribly by persistlng in his refusal to
obey his fathers wishes, but under all
he remained silent. He was kind, re-
spcctfal, tender, in view of his fathers
evident suffering, but he was obdurate
on that one point, his refusal to give
any clue to the proving of an alibi.-
After one Of these interviews, when he
had senmo6 dnooodl~ ohs,;roto ,nd h;e