The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1869-12-15
GcoNCLUEED.1

q two edged silver handled clasp
knife, and laid it upon the table.
Have either of you ever seen that
before2p he asked.
The Colonel gave an inGrticulate
cry. My breath stopped, for | knew
il was the knife with which Major
Southly was killed.
DO L need to say any more?'I
asked Guthrie.
There was a silence Of several mo-
ments. The Colonel sat with his
hands clenched npon the arms of his
chair, and his livid face bent towards
the floor.
How much do you knoW2" he
asked, at length, ia q stifled voice.
know that you killed Major
Southly in quarrel near the summer
house, last August, and that you
threw his body into. a gully net far
from the spot. 1 know that Mrs.
Douglas, here, was a witness to the
deed, as she was in the summer house
at the time it was committed"
L could not bear to witness the un-
utterable agony Of Colonel Walton's
face. It was evident that he had
dWelt enough upon. the circumstances
to instantly fully realize the Situation.
My heart bled within me at the next
sound of his broken voice.
What do you intend to do?"
"On conditions, nothing!
Mr.. Guthrie was standing upon the
hearth-rug, his white hands locked
behind him, looking down az US,
calmly and keenly.
what do you waBtY' asked the
Colonel, ia a broken tone.
1.-The hand of your daughter"
There was another silence. -,
. 90 If Miss Walton becomes my wife, "
Mr.. Guthrie went on, " shall never
use my knowledge of your guilt to
your harm. Major Southly shall rest
where / buried him. But, other
wise, shall make the matter public
Itwas then that the Colonel looked
up and gaZed at me.
,"I inferred the body with my own
hands upon the night Of the MURDER
said Guthrie, quietly.
II saw that the Colonel looked at me
with little hopo. He felt and knew
that | was his friend.
M It il true that was-but, Just then.
the sweet face Of my darling, full Of
its sacred happiness, rose up between
US, and felt flame of Indignation,
that she should be sacrificed to save
her selfish father, sweep across my
brow. AS he looked at me his eyes
diIaIed with q asthorrOr and despair.
lie rose, tried to speak, threw up his
arms, and fell in fit at our feet.
We brought him to without raising
the house, though with much difficulty.
At length be lay upon tho couch,
sensible and miserable, overwhelmed
with physical aud mental suffering.
At last he asked for Lindsey. u
"She has retired" l said.
"Send her down here to sit with
me. The rest Of you leave me" no
said.
went up and woke Lindsey, who
lay dreaming in the sweetest peace.
She started up alarmed. aal ae1s
Your father has been quite i'll, /
said. BE IS better now, but he
wants you to come and sit with him. /"
why. my father was never sick
befo-el" she said, hurrying to dress.
"A Il Watched her 90 down. Her hair,
in all its confused curls. chung about
her throat. She mad forgotten the
cord of her wrapper, and it swept its
whole white length around her. 1t
was fastened hurriedly at the throat
with little coral pin, and upon her
checks still fingered the flush Of
healthy sleep. In the hall she met
Guthrie, who regarded her steadily,
but she took no notice of him, and
went on to her father. When the door
closed after her, sat down upon the
stair and weptin an utter abandon o1
despair. ~
Ihave no doubt that Guthrie quietly
went to rest in the chamber assigned
him. He could afford to sleep; his
interests were safe. He had perfected
his part with deliberation which ad
mitted of nothing but success. d
course eLindsey would not let hel
father 60 to the gallows,
When L rose, the next morning,
did not venture to disturb them in the
library. l went about my tasks, feel
ing their insignifcance, and so weigh
ed upon that whom / heard the serv
ants laughing in the kitchen stepped
to the door and looked at them II
wonder. Tip asked timidly If were
ill. l told her no, though my very
soul was sick within me- / remember
now that they all regarded me with
pity, and l heard a whisper that " the
old lady was breaking up"
It was past nine O'Clock when
ventured to send Tip to the library tC
see if tho Colonel would take some
] breakfast. She came back saying that
he was asleep.
L went up and softly opened thu
door. Lindsey was not there, anC
the Colonel lay upon the couch
before the fire, In a light slumber
There was an oppressive stiffness Ii
the room, and D, how terribly wal
randi the Colonel lookedt He haC
a look Of deep sickness and age upoI
him, and for the first time, i notices
streaks OF white among his hair ant
beard.
came out without waking him
and went up and knocked at Lindsey
door. Mr.. Guthrie had breakfasteo
iiH and sat upon the piazza, smoking.
Lindsey's door was locked, but shl
81 came and let me In. Evidently sh'
3 had not slept any. She was very pale
her eyes were heavy, there were blu
shadows under them.
oh a'A Is my father wanting anything?'
she asked.
sss | said no. l could not speak again
81 ! made myself busy spreading up tn
bed while she stood llstlessly brushing
up her hair.
~ She lay down the brush, finally, ant
sank into seat, as if her stTengt
had suddenly failed her.
Aunt Nanny" she said. whe
Ben calls to day, tell him l canno
see him. Tell him can never Sc
him again. | am going to marry MI
Guthrie.