Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-09-06
It did not take him many minutes

to reach them.
"Mary," he said, in an angry voice,
"you come home with me at once, or
I'll"
"John, if you threaten me, I'll never
come with you again"
"You can please yourself, Mary
Boyd; it's not John Taggart, though he
is your promised husband, that will
ask you twice." Hssi
And with furious look at Philip,
which Philip answered by a provoking
little laugh, John went back to the we'd
ding guests.
But all his gayety was gone: he
would neither dance nor sing, and long
before the festivities were over, he
left. AS he went home he glanced to-
wards the sands. Philip and Mary
were together. Philip held her hand,
ond stopped his fair, proud head to lis
ten. to what she was saying. John
glanced but moment at this bitter
sight, then, with a muttered threat, not
pleasant to hear, he took the other way
Unfortunately, several people heard
the words, and they were afterwards
recalled to his condemnation.
A party of Rock-Cod fishers came in
one morning, bringing with them Phil
Ups private row boat, which they had
found floating a couple of miles out of
harbor. His line and a couple of
hooks were in the boat, and the oars
were found not far away, but there was
no trace of the young man. People
began to inquire next where John had
been during the flow of that mornings
tide, and when it was proved that he
had been seen leaving the harbor very
early that morning, many looked on
him with faces Of dreadful meaning.
Still, none liked to be premature.
Mr.. Saville was always swayed by the
caprice of the moment, and it was sug-
gested that he had perhaps met fish
ing smack, and gone with the crew to
enjoy some deep sea fishing. Every
boat that came into the little ports adj
jacent was eagerly inquired Of; no one,
however, had seen anything of the
missing man. Day by day the sus-
picion of foul play grew more definite.
When ten days had elapsed, and no
letters or tidings came, the proper au-
thorites took charge of Philips person
al effects, and John Taggert was arrest
ed on suspicion, but there being no
positive evidence to confirm the vague
suspicious regarding him, he was re-
luctantly acquitted.
But now began the worst Of his pun
ishment. The severity OF the old laws
of Man had made the peasantry look
upon crime as something altogether
dreadful; murder was thing nearly
unknown, and beyond the pale of ex-
cuse or pardon; its very suspicion was
frighitul thing. John Taggert found
himself in pretty much the same con-
dition as the communicated man in
the Dark Ages.
He could get no work; if he had not
had money saved, he must have
starved or left Castletown. About
Christmas time, he met on the sea-
shore the rector of the church he had
once SO regularly attended. He would
have passed him with a dark, averted
face, but the good man would not let
him; he put out his hand, and looked
John steadily and kindly in the face.
"Iohn," he said, do you think am
going to eat my Christmas dinner with
your dark, stubborn face haunting me?
Why have you not come to see me in
your trouble?"
"Your servants, sir, would have said
[ left a bloody step at the door-stone
would you have let me stand upon
your hearth? ?"
"Did you ever try me, John? Turn
now with me and come to my study,
for I have something to say to you"
Then the good man led him on to
tell all the petty insults whose tremen-
dous cumulative power were fast turn
ing him into fierce, bitter hater of
his kind; and the poor fellow found
comfort even in this unburdening of
his grief, as well as in the unspcken
sympathy that glistened in his listen
er's eyes. At last, when the heavy
heart had unburdened all its agony, the
rector said: as
John, why don't you go away fro m
CastletoWn?
"No, sir" he answered, passionately;
"I have done nothing to run away for;
if there is any justice in Heaven, it
will clear me in sight of my neighbors
and kinfolk. lean wait, but want to
be here on the spot when God is ready
to hear my cause"
care you suffering for money or
necess aries ?"
"Not much, sir; since your rever.
ence has been so kind to me, will
trust you with my one secret. Mary
Boyd brings me many a bowl of bread
and milk to the old Druid stones. Our
people don't venture there after night,
but Mary loves me, and love is not
afeared Of ghosts
" am glad to hear this, John. Then
Mary, as well as I, believes you to be
innocent ?"
For moment John could not speak
then with full eyes he answered:
i "For them words. sir, God bless you
If you and Mary believe me innocent,
I am not quite hopeless. Mary has
never doubted me; she sought me oui
at once in my trouble and loneliness.
should have gone mad or died the las,
few weeks but for her."
eff I should give you work and q
little cottage, would Mary marry you
and thus enable you to live down in
your home, these suspicions?"
i Eyes, sir, she would leave all her