The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-09-03
on this, the last night of my stay. Clare,

| on TINS, the last nlgnt OF my stay, Clalo'
too. was away. When had communi-
Gated to her my resolve to leave by the
1880 train on the morrow she had
kissed me as though she were losing
me forever, and her white wan face and
pitiful blue eyes touched me so deeply
that | had taken her in my arms and
| kissed away her tears, promising to re-
turn long before the day fixed for our
wedding.
80, Gerald" she sobbed, Il could
not give you up, dear, now" and again
l wondered could she have guessed my
secret Still pale and trembling with
agitation she had gone to her room;
and at dinner her maid informed us
that Miss Clare had given ord ers not to
be disturbed, and Hilarie, being inquired
for, was found to have gone out some
hours previously and not yet returned.
Still, conversation was lively at the din
ner-table, when we were suddenly
startled by hurried trampling of feet
and confusion of voices, broken sud
denly by the unceremonious entrance OF
Mark Thompson, undergraduates at the
Hail. who, breathless with excitement
informed us that there was summit
wrong up at Alton Woods; man MUIR
dered, sur, and Miss Hilarie sha be wi
him and sent me on for help" was
already at the door, my one thought of
Hilarie. Mr. Beresford and the mem
servants following, when Clare, white
and shivering, met me as though she
would go with me; she looked so terri
! bly, ill that l begged her to return to
her room, but she shook her head, say
ing, Il must 60. Hilarie must not be
there Alone" and so Clare and / were
the first to reach the entrance of the
wood, the first to see Hilarie, with her
face buried in her hands, kneeing be-
side the murdered man sobbing bitter
ly. Clare turned shuddering away but
[ sprang forward, crying, ''Hilarie!
Hilarie!'
o the agony of the white streaming
face, lifted to my own, as she tottered
did you come hereP' and with low
sobbing cry, she reeled and fell insensi-
BILE into my arms. "Hilarie speak to
mech, Hilarie, my love, my darlingp'
l cried, pressing her franticslly to my
heart, and all my love for Hilarie was
revealed in those few passionate words
to Clare
Even then ! was conscious of the
pitiful dumb despair on the poor pale
face as she abruptly turned and left me
alone with my unconscious burden.
/ pray Heaven l may never know
again the terrible agony that followed
close upon that fatal night. / wonder
l did not go mad when they accused
Hilarie, my beautiful Hilarie, of the foul
crime of murder. had been mercifully
spared the sight of her arrest,
but they told me she had uttered no
word, only white and still had let them
lead her away to felon's cell.
The murdered man had been stabbed
to the heart with some weapon which
had not yet been discovered, and hidden
in his clenched right hand was found
part of torn certificate of marriage SOL
emnized two years before between
" George Morton Dean" and Hilarie
-" The rest had been torn away,
so that only that Christian name re-
manned with what appeared to be the
upper part of capital G, the initial
| letter of the surname Graeme.
| In the opinion of the police this was
sufficient to fasten the crime upon poor
Hilarie, and ii was generally believed
that In her wild, unrestrained youth she
had been led into mesalliance with
the murdered man, whose appearance
was decidedly plebian, and his coming
to Beech Hall to claim his wife had
aroused her dormant passion, and that
in her dread OF exposure she had first
tried to obtain possession of the proof
of her marriage, and stained her soul
with murder.
In the doctors opinion the crime had
been committed during the afternoon
of the day upon which the body was
discovered. Like a flash of fire there
came to me the remembrance of that
meeting with Hilarie and her hasty
concealment of the scrap of paper. l
remembered her guilty flush, her con-
fused replies, and, Heaven forgive me,
for one brief moment trembled lest she
should be guilty of the horrible crime
imputed to her. l drove the mad
thought from me as unworthy my man
hood and my love, and redoubled my
unceasing efforts to establish her inno-
cence. Hilarie from the first had re-
fused to see me. had written implor-
ing her to speak, if only one word that
might prove her innocent, but she
! wrote:
81 can say nothing. 1 pray only that
you may be happy with Clare" And
the terrible dark days followed swiftly
one upon the other, each adding to the
subtle web of evidence they were weav-
ing around my darling, until sometimes
l fancied it must be some horrible
dream from which l must surely soon
awake. Yet there was Mrs. Beresford' s
bitter wailing for the disgrace upon her
house, and Clare's terrible pallor and
mute, sorrowful despair gave me an
additional pang that had brought
double trouble upon her.
There remained but one day now be-
fore that ON which Hilarie was to ap-
pear in felon's dock, and on the morn
.ing of that day Clare came to me with
the old wistful tenderness of manner,
and pressing her cold white cheek to
mine, so that could not see her face,
she said in a slow, sad voice, "Gerald,
if Hilarie dies what will you do?'
'Hilarie must not dier' l exclaimed
passionately. Embedding my words,
Clare continual. g.. t.... .t...