The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1880-07-10

what could he hove done2 ran down
swiftly and unlocked the door. But as |
did 80, too men, wearing official badges,
stopped upon the porch, and one of them
laid his hand on TOMS shoulder and said /.
Il arrest you, SIR
For what 2 cried.
tFor MURDER
Tho floor seemed sliding from beneath
my feet, but, caught at the door to steady
myself and looked at Tom. at that instant
the officer uncovered his lantern, and, oh,
God there was blood on my husbands
hands,
All tho rest Is blank. When came to
myself again, was in my room, aud kind
compassionate faces were around me.
asked for Tom He was in prison, await
ing his trial. There had been quarrel at
tho tavern; and Tom had struck his an
tagon1st. The man wasn't dead, though
they thought he was at tirst-but he was
badly hurt about the head. But if he re-
covcred-woll, it would not go so hard
with Tom.
I arose and went to the prison; but they
would not admit me. No one to was
to- see my husband till after tho trial
Another day crept by, night, and when
morning came, went down to the door and
ton which always accompanies severe
Affections, and looked out. The sun was
| rising grandly and brightly over the black
stone Jail. THE frost hung thick and spark
ling over everything, even on the scrap of
folded paper that lay at my feet. ! stopped
and picked 1t up idly, as we catch at a
straw or twig sometimes, without any
motive or power of volition. The super
scription caught my eye; it was my own
name, and my husbands handwriting l
tore tt open and read:
DEAR LUCY-l have broken out Of iail
and am going-wcll, no matter where. I
didn't strike Hastings with an intention to
kill him. was intoxicated, and it was
more his fault than mine; but he may die,
and thcn--at any rate, it is for you, Lucy,
for me to go. l never was worthy Of your
love. Now you can go back to your father
and forget me and be happy. You will
find the bonds for that money I have
in the bank in the desk; it is enough to
make you and the child comfortable. For
give and forget me, Lucy. God bless you
you and the baby. Tom.
This was the end This was the reward
that my cross word had purchased for ME
Truly, truly, the wages of sin are death.
We shall no. need one pany O: co POI al
punishment, Que spark of real tre, To per-
feet our torment if we are lost Conscience
Is ll-sufiicient-rcmorsc, that worm that
| never dies. 1t is not for me to talk about
what suffered in the days that followed
that morning! Words could not express it,
save to one who had passed through the
same furnace of atliiction. But l lived.
for sorrow and death rarely walk in each
others steps, ind nursed my baby, and
n Iynrlr hon 10 had 10 -
not 20 back to my father. / remained at
TOMS ome, and kept his things all about
me, even his cap hanging on the wall.
Forget him2 Does love ever forget?
Hastings did not die. He recovered and
made public statement. He was more in
fault than Tom was. Then he put notice
in all the papers, telling Tom to come back;
but he did not come.
The winter passed away with long long
| nights of bitter rcmorsc, and tender recol-
lections of the dear husband whose strong
arms had once been my stay and support !;
the spring came--lhe summer-anothcr
winter; three years went by-crept by.
My child, Toms little baby, grew to be
fairy little thing, with blue eyes and
golden hair and tongue that never wearicd
of its childish prattling. All day long she
| sat Oh the doorstep, where the evening
sunbeams santcd in lisping 70 her doll and
listening, while l told her of the father
who would come back to us souue day.
For surely he would come. Most surely
Gods mercy would vouchsafc some COM
pensation, some pardon for such repentance
as my soul had poured forth.
The third spring was peculiar; somehow
the far-off sky seemed to drop down in
nearer, blu folds; the sun wore softer
radiance; the trees, the grass, the flowers,
diviner, tenderer beauty. rose every
morning and looked out of my little window
at tho kindling glorics of the NOR, within a
feeling of strange, tremulous expectation.
l seemed to feel the shadow of some great
event that winged rs light above mc---onc
prayer of my heart seemed about to be
answered.
One eveping-oh, that evening! A May
sky, soft and blue, hung over green
blossoming earth; the turtle dove cooed in
the distant wood and the robin twittercd to
her young brood amid the milky bloom of
the orchard Gods love shone in the gol-
den brightness of the westward going sun.
My child, little Eflle, sat on the doorstep
talking to her doll and watching the birds.
All at once she clapped her dimplcd hands
and bounded to her fee.
NANNY She cried glccfully, 'pappy
comin'--pappy comm; Ellie go meet i
The words stirred my heart to its utmost
depths; and dropping my work followed
her out of the door. A man was coming
up tho garden path--hs garments tattered,
his step slow and uncertain. A bcggar, no
doubt. called Effle to come back, but
she ran on needless of my command.
Toms little spaniel that had petted and
taken care of for his sake, dartcd from his
kennel with peculiar cry such as I never
heard from it before.
What did it all mcan2 My heart
throbbed and my knees trcmblcd. Little
Eflic ran on, holding out both dimplcd
hands, her golden curls blown all about
her rosy face. "How-dc-do, pappy9 Use
your Efle," she lispcd, as she reached the
mans feet.
He stopped and raised her in his arms
and then glanced. on .mo. And such a
glancc-such a facet Pale, haggard, worn