Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1874-08-06


to stagger home. But, at dawn. some
farmer, early on the road, found Charles
Dorset lying dead, shot through the
back of the head in a most horri BILE
manner.
He had not an enemy upon earth as
far as was known. No one guessed that
he had been a sutton of Rose Unwin, or
that she had favored him.
Suspicion could not rest upon Warren
Lawrence-upon any one.
1t was decided that some one bent on
plumber had attacked the young man on
his way home. There had been tramps
in the woods that day-unknown fellows
of unpleasant looks. The crime was
laid to their charge, and search was
made for any trace of them in vain.
Those to whom Charles Dorset was
dear bore their grief as best they could.
His betrothed suffered in silence.
Only one man knew her grief-the man
who had caused 1t.
Weeks passed-months glided by.
The sod grew green above the MUIR
dered mans grave, and his murderer
was wooing the woman who had loved
him with all the power that in him lay
She was changed and saddened, but
she was woman still and young. BY
degrees she yielded to his entreaties,
aud at last promised to be his wife.
Before Charles came she had liked him
better than any one else. She liked
| him still. She could love no one, she
said. Her one love was past; but she
could be good wife and true, and be
proud of this great, blooming, beauti-
! full animal who was so fond of her.
| But, when she had pledged herself,
she was more sorrowful than before. A
love like this was but a mockery of
that sweet feeling she had once expert
enced and she sobbed herself asleep
that night, thinking of Charles Dor.
set.
1t was but natural that she should
dream of him.
She thought he came to her bedside,
and knelt down there that he took her
hand, and held it in his own and,
though she knew he was no living man,
but spirit, that she had no fear of
him.
have come to warn you," he
said. do you remember how it
stormed that night-the night died {?
Do you remember the last flash of
lightning ?"
Then every particular of the storm
seemed to return to her memory.
SEQ look at the oak" he said" the
old oak at the head of the long road.
Look at that before you marry Warren
Lawrence"
Then he was gone. She started,
do 10 cold fror,l,lin0
stricken, but all was calm. The stars
shone in through the small window
panes. There was not sound to be
heard.
"Only a dream" she said, "and
troubled minds give birth to dreams"
And she prayed, and strove to sleep
again. With sleep, the dream returned !;
and thrice before the day-dawn the
self-same words were whispered in her
ear
Before you marry Warren Law
renee, look at the oak tree at the head
of the long road"
Look at the oak tree Within sight
of it her lover had been shot dead. The
there some proof by which the muir
Dc tItCtQ llllRtllDS dDOul
that tree =? Was the dream merely the
folly of disturbed slumber or was it
warning not TO be sighted In any
case, she would have been more than
woman could she have refrained from
obeying the mandate which had been
uttered for, though natural good sense
taught her that only in dream-lan had
she met her lost lover, still the impress
sion that his lips had uttered the words
which she had heard was too strong to
be cast aside.
In the bright dawn of the early June
day which followed this dream filled
night, Rose Unwin took her way to the
spot indicated by the vision. Ever since
that fatal night ten months before she
had avoided this road. Now, for the
first time, she trod it. Slowly, and
with an aching heart, she passed the
pretty, scattered cottages and came to
the head of the long road. On one side
arose green hill, on the other bit of
beautiful woodland at its head, like a
gigantic sentinel, lowered the mighty
oak tree under which Warren Lawrence
had cast himself down after seeing Rose
in the arms of Charles Dorset, in the
shelter of which he had taken aim at
the unhappy man.
Green and fresh as ever stood this
oak on one side. The other was dead
and scared. The horrible flash of
lightning had splintered it and cut away
q ,,ng, smooth slab on one side of the
trunk.
The night that had left its mark on
her heart had also left its mark on this
great tree. 1t stood q monument of
that awful hour, when, with his love-
kiss fresh upon her lips, Charles Dor
set breathed his lasi, the victim of mad
jealousy. "But why am / sent here?"
asked Rose of herself. What can
gain by this sight. who have
never forgotten-who will never for
get!"
As she spoke she approached the tree
and placed her hand upon it. Her eyes
rested on the side of the tree overwhich
the lightning had passed. 1t was be-
ref of bark and comparatively fiat
ann smooth Had some one heen