The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-11-26


the erect form and unrevealing face of
Philip st. John, yet more on the slender
grlish wife who had waded through
sea of suffering, whose reputation hung
in the balance, and whose wondrous
pathetic beauty touched the hearts Of
the least impressionable there, though
Nat POINTER came in for share of the
criticisms.
There was stir rs Arnold Murray
took his place in the dock, leaning
heavily against the rails, and looking
neither to the right or left
Philips eyes rested on him moment
cold, clear, like hard steel.
There was neither flash of passion,
nor CLEAN of pity, in that glance, and
then he turned to answer some remark
made TO him.
AS for Erica, she never moved nor
gave sign that she knew the prisoner
had entered, her eyes were dropping,
hidden by the long lashes, and she
never raised them once.
Perhaps she feared for her own power
if she suffered her eyes to dwell on Ar
mold Murray in that Gelon's dock.
There was a breathless silence during
the formal question and low-uttered
Not guilty Of the prisoner, during the
opening speech Of the encouragement,
and while The landlord Of the Crown at
Rington and two others were examined
to establish the identity of the prisoner
with the Stephen Martin who had
STAYED at that hotel; but there was a
visible stir when Nat POINTER was
called. He recounted all the story OF
that night III the most simple and
straightforward manner, and was not
cross-eXamined; now and then he .eX-
cited laugh by his mode of speaking
of Erica always Miss Broadcast.
ways Mrs. st, John" and occasionally
--" Missy
Those who had been observing the
prisoner during the last ten minutes Of
Poynter's examination, and Of these
| was Philip st, John, had seen him lift
| himself from his leaning posture and
! look round for the first time with just
| feeting glance, growing more steady as
| lie seemed to gather courage; then that
his eyes went straight to where Erica
| stood. a statue carved in WhitcSt mar
bic. with that look of rigidly-enforced
endurance on the young, fair face that,
| after his fashion, he loved,
He knew that it was not her fault
I Aitl Nv NdN 4IIifs anu tlliA N'IlltlIllllB
| good which Is left living at the bottom
of all but the utterly hardened was
moved for her,
All this crowd of gaping Sightseers
were gloating over the prospect OF her
| evidence, were waiting impatlently for
| her TO he called, that they might note
| how she looked, and when her voice
| faltered, and when her color came or
went, and sudden guSh of remorSe
came over the miserable man who had
been the curse of the girl all her life
1t might be that this new impulse was
| not born only of remorSe and pity for
her-there is much that breaks down
| fierce feeling in the fact of a shattered
| physique,
lie had no hope Of winning; he was
| not quite base enough to set up a de-
fence that should blast his cousin y
honor; and then, she had suffered so
| much for him, that he might as well do
what he could for her And he had a
savage delight in disappointing that
| eager crowd. They should not feed
their morbid curiosity on the torture Of
| his cousin.
And not giving himself time for any
more. he whispered to his counsel, who
was observed to start slightly, and then,
| lust as the counsel for the prosecution
was SAYING, II must now call and
expectation was at its height he rose
up, and addressed the judge.
Arnold glanced round with half
contemptuous smile, and then put one
! hand 10 his forehead second and
| clenched the handrail with the other,
/ sick now and cold when the moment
! was come.
But. hush, what is his counsel saying
! Every ear Is bent to listen; and Philip
! leans little forward and draws in hts
breath. and swift his glance goes to
Erica--moved at last, but only little
outwardly; her hands are locked, and
her eyes are lifted, looking straight at
the prisoner
His counsel is asking that the case
may be stopped, for that his client
wishes to plead guilty to the manslaugh-
ter of Walter st. John, and to make full
confession OF his guilt, and begs his
lordship to hear him, as the name and
honor Of others are bound up in what
he has TO say.
There is an instants absolute hush.
Every eye is turned to the prisoner-the
central figure in this scene-once voice
cries ont from the back, Bravo and
is hushed down by the usher; then
there is murmur, fresh attitude of
anticipation, and again deathly silence,
while the Judge confers moment with
counsel and then speaks, And as he
does SO Philip comes round quietly to
Erica's side and stands there. He is
anxious, terribly anxious for her; for
he thinks of the "afterwards,' when
the strain shall have passed.
And then Arnold Lifts his head, and
a mist comes before his eyes. lie
knows they are all waiting for him to
speak; listening for the words; Won
dering how he will put them; whether
he is breaking down at the last His
lips are parched and dry, and when he
tries to speak no sound issues from
them.
Water -water!n he whispers.
And wave of pity goes through the
crowd, and the women bend forward
with tears in their eyes. How they
watch him as he drinks the water the
gaoler gives him. And for the first
time Erica'S self-suppresson wavers a
second. She lifts her hands to her
brow and presses them there, and then
they drop once more, and she is rigid,
| for \ rnoll ia gnpakinp, tullipo IA al