Urbana union. [volume] (Urbana, Ohio) 1862-1872, 1871-04-19

buJ SiOou W3lcnn9 the crawling ligh
on The bay, with a-strange interest in :
thing 81 triliiug, when he was rudeIy
lOstled; the next instant he held GeOrg,
Lawrence by the throat, and, by an ef
fort Of his powerful strength, bore hin
to his knees.
The boat was coming nearer: the row
rr having hailed his expected pasSen
ger, rested ON his oars 4 second, ther
hailed again; but there was no answer
The two men We're on the verge of the
pier, against which the black tide rip.
pied hUngTily.
Luke ConnuF had said To others and {,
himself hundred times that night thai
he would find the man. He had found
him-fOund him, TOO, in a lonely, seclud.
ed spot, where no help could come, i
he but did his work quickly. He wa,
not surprised, not moved i'm amy way
that the man had been delivered, as hl
thought, into his hands. II was Fate ol
Providence, as his death would be-al
Fate
As quickly and mdisturJed as he
would have spoken to his friend i'm that
earlier, happier time, he spoke to his
enemy now.
This coward'- Disguise he said,
means fight; and that tells me YOU
y L,
expected me. If you have Il PRAYER tu
say, say it now, and quickly; for | mean
10 kill you
George Lawrence heard the splash OF
the oars in the coming boat; moments
time gained or loud cry for help might
save him yet, he thought He strug-
gled upward, and tried TO cry out; but
the hand clutching at his throat was a.
firm aS a band of steel, pressing the life
out Of him.
Luke Connor'S hand went quickly to
his breast, and when it came out again
all the devil that possessed the man
ciutched at the Spanish knife, and nerv-
ed him against any cOmpunctiOn or falt-
ering in his purpose. The dip of the
oars i'm the approaching boat sounded
fatally near, when the covering wretch
ut his feet sprang up and struggled with
him for his life There was only n short,
duh cry, as Conner plunged his knife
home: then he sWayed his victim to and
fro for a moment, and, eNerting his great
strength, flung him hcadlonw into the ris-
ing tide, that spiaShcd and licked the
spectral pier. An hour later, when il
ebbed, il would have grown tired of beat
ing something against themuddy piles,
and would hurry another burthen, be
side the California steamer, out to sea.
Then the young man whose work
was done, but whose youth had slipped
for ever away from him within an hour
or two, quietly looked at the bloody
knife i'm his hand-fung it into the tide
stood ilTesUlute for a moment. debat-
ING within himself whether he should
90 then and surrender himself to Justice,
or wait until morning From where he
stood he could hear the slow, labored
'heavc-hO' of the sailors on the steamer,
rs they weighed anchor; the approach
ing boast, ne thought, could put him
aboard, and escape would be certain and
easy. Captains of outgoing vessels were
not disposed to be too suspicious of the
character Of their passengers or To in
quire too closely into their motives for
leaving the States, no matter how or
when they came on board; for California
had not yet ceased TO be q sort of
( free commonwealth where adventures,
thieves, and worse, went abroad in the
open day, nquestiOmed and unmolest-
ed
But he had no intention of flight He
had, from the first moment of his re-
solve, calmly weighed all the cOnse-
qUences of its fulfilment; and he was
now quite ready to meet them. It mat
tered nothing to him that one Of them
was the chance of an ignOminiOus
death, or lingering imprisonment; neith-
er had any terToTs for him now. This
sister was at rest, and she was the last
Of his kin; so there could be no one else
to be hurt or tainted by his crime or it's
punishment. But he would wait until
morning 10 give himself up to the law,
he said; then, it might do with him
what it would. He had a fancy that he
. NFguiI like n hack fn his old
and say goodbye 10 them, before going
TO prison or death. 1t was pleasant old
street, he thought Nowhere else in
Boston was the air so sweet and strong,
blowing into him from the bay, over the
city gardens. From his window he
could look across the Common, and
fancy that nowhere else was the grass so
green, nor the view down the serpen-
fine walk so fine; and the trees, way
ing i'm the morning winds, were old
friends, whose every leaf and bOugh he
seemed to know. Even the plash of the
fountains had something loving and
friendly in it. 1t was all pleasant and
friendly there; and the fancy of the mo-
ment before now became an eager de-
sire to 90 back and see it all in the sweet
hush and light Of another morning. He
started back making his way slowly
among the rubbish Of the long wharf,
stepping deep in muddy pools, or slip
ping in the soft clay, hearing no longer
the pIash of oars, nOT roar of wind nor
beat of rain, nor rush of tide, nor remem-
bering for moment the something it
was beating against the piles or bearing
out to sea; but, as he went Oh through
the deserted streets, he grew conscious
that he walked unsteadily, and that, de-
spite the chilling winds and rain, he was
burning with fever, and that his head
panied him. He put his hand up to his
face, and, coming then under a lamp,
found his fingers dropping blood.
4 am glad he struck back he said,
. quietly, and went on.
To he Continued.