The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-05-31

day Guthrie left us.
Others beside myself saw that Colonel
Walton was changed man. He was pal
lid and haggard. Sometimes he would
shut himself up in his room for days; and
then he would be in a constant haste and
furry with business, coming home at night
ready to drop. He talked of selling the es-
tate; several gentleman came out from the
city to look at it.
This distressed Lindsey very much, for
she was fond of Larch Lanes. But l thought
knew how hateful the place must be to
the man, with that still gully lying behind
the trees. No words can tell how l pitied
him.
Nearly two months went by. Ben and
Lindsey wanted to be married. Lindsey
purposed to ask her father again for his
consent. They had made so many plans
those two happy young things
She saw her father so seldom that she
was obliged to seek chance of meeting
him-so she set upon an evening and wait
ed for the boat to come in. 1t was chilly
fall night, and fire was kindled in the Ii
brary CRATE.
She wandered around there, now sitting
for moment in the easy chair before the
CRATE, now looking out of the window, now
going to the door to listen for carriage
wheels. She was little nervous and ap-
prehensive of disappointment, for her faith
er was more difficult to approach than ever
of late.
Suddenly there were voices in the hall,
and the colonel entered with Mr.. Guthrie
The latter saluted Lindsey with profound
courtesy At the first opportunity she
asked her father if she could speak with
him for moment.
" ou want to ask about that wedding, I
suppose" he answered, carelessly. "You
may be married any time you please-say
the twentieth of December"
Lindsey came out radiant, but in little
natural tremulousness.
{" am afraid Mr.. Guthrie heard what nv
father said," said she, "for saw him
smile. What cold-looking, handsome
man he is %
The colonel rang for wine. AS usual, he
had supped in town. Lindsey was in my
room, talking over her plans for the we'd
ding, when the library bell rang again, and
Tip came up to say the colonel wanted me.
"Surely they don't want supper! IT'S
ten O'clock" said I.
went down. The colonel sat at the ta-
BILE; it was Mr.. Guthrie who saluted me
and bade me be seated. He himself BROUGHT
me chair and then locked the door.
"This will secure us from interruption, I"
he said, in his smooth, cold voice. 81
shall detain you but a few moments, Mrs.
Douglas"
glanced at the colonel. He was look
ing steadfastly at Guthrie, who, after mo-
ment drew from his breast two-edged sill
ver-handled clasp-knife, and laid it upon the
table.
"Have either of you ever seen that be-
fore| He asked.
The colonel gave an inarticulate cry. NV
breath stopped, for knew it was the knife
with which Major Southly was killed.
"Do need to say any more ?" asked
Guthrie.
There was silence of several moments
The colonel sat with his hands clenched
upon the arms of his chair, and his livid
face bent towards the floor
SHOW much do you know9" he asked at
length, in sti1ed voice.
81 know that you killed Major Southly
IN quarrel near the summer-house, last
August and that you threw his body into
a gully not far from the spot. know that
Mrs. Douglas, here was witness to the deed,
as she was in the summer-house at the time
it was committed'''
l could not bear to witness the unuttera-
BILE agony of Colonel Walton's face. 1t was
evident that he had dwelt enough upon the
circumstances to instantly fully realize the