Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-09-01

whom you loved, was a creatur
capable OF a crime which none bu
the devil himself could have perpe
trated. Dear William! dearest
blest child! | soon shall see you ii
heaven, where we shall be happy
AMI that consoles me, going as I an
to suffer ignominy and DEATH"
"Oh, Justine! forgive me for one
moment distrusting you. Why did
you confess But do not morn
my dear girl; / will everywhere
proclaim your innocence, and force
belief. Yet you must die; you, my
| playfellow, my companion, my
more than sister. | never can sur.
vive so horrible misfortune.
"Dear, sweet Elizabeth, do not
weep. You ought to raise me with
thoughts OF a better life, and elevate
me from the petty cares of this
world of injustice and strife. DoyOu
not. excellent friend, drive me to
despair" :"
II will try to comfort you; but
this, l fear, is an evil too deep and
poignant to admit of consolation,
for there is no hope. Yet Heaven
bless thee, my dearest Justine, with
resignation, and confidence eleva-
ted beyond this world. Oh, how l
hate its shows and mockerIes! when
one creature, is murdered, another
is immediately deprived of life in a
slow, tOrturing manner; then the
executiuners, their hands yet reek
ing with the blood of innocence,
believe that they have done a great
deed. They call this retribmio'a.
Hateful name! When that word
is pronounced, / know greater and
more horrid punishments are going
to be inflicted than the gloomiest
tyrant has ever invented to satiate
his utmost revenge. Yet this is not
consolation for you, my Justine,
unless, indeed, that you may glory
in escaping from SO miserable d den.
Alas! / would | were in peace
with my aunt and my lovely Will
liam, escaped from world which
hateful to me, and the visages OF
men which ! abhor." gA
Justine smiled languidly. f'Fhis,
dear lady, is despair, and not resig-
nation. / must not learn the lesson
that you would teach me. Talk OF
something else, something that will
bring peace, and not increase OF
misery" - .....
During the conversation l had
retired to a corner of the prison
room, where / could conceal the
horrid anguish that possessed me!
Despair! who dare talk Of that?
The poor victim, who ON the NOR
row was to pass the dreary bOunda-
ry between life and death, felt not,
as did, such deepand bitteragony.
| gnashed my teeth, and ground
them together, utteringa a groan that
came from my inmost soul. Justine
started. When she saw who it was
she approached me, and said, "Dear
sir, you are very kind to visit me
you, hope, do not believe that l
am guilty."
/ could not answer. mo, JUS
tine," said Elizabeth; "he is more
convinced of your innocence than
was for even when he heard that
you had confessed, he did not credit
it."
81 truly thank him. In these
last moments / feel the sincerest
gratitude toward those who think
Of me with Kindness. How sweet
is the affection of others to such Il
wretch as | am! 1t relieves more
than half my misfortune and feel
as if | could die in peace, now that
my Innocence is acknowledged by
you, dear lady, and your cousin,"
Thus the poor sufferer tried to
comfort Others and herself. She
indeed gained the resignation she
desired. But l, the true murderer,
felt the never-dying worm alive in
my bosom, which allowed of no
hope or consolation. Elizabeth also
wept, and was unhappy but hers
also was the misery of innocence,
which, like cloud that passes over
the fair moon, for awhile hides, but
cannot tarnish its brightness. An
guish and despair had penetrated
into the core of my heart; l bore a
hell within me, which nothing
could extinguish. We stayed sew
eral hours with Justine, and it was
with great difficulty that Elizabeth
could tear herself away. :" wlsh,'
cried she, that | were to 'iie with
you; l cannot live in this world OF
~
Justine assumed an air of cheer |
fulness, while she with difficulty |
repressed the bitter tears. She en- |
braced Elizabeth, and said in Il
voice of half-suppressed emotion,
Farewell, sweet lady, dearest |
my beloved and only |
friend may Heaven in its bounty
bless and preserve you; may this
be the last misfortune that you will
ever suffer. Live, and be happy,
and make others So"
AS we returned, Elizabeth said,
'You know not, dear Victor, how
much ] am relieved, now that
rust in the innocence of this un-
'ortunate girl. / never could again
nave known peace, If had been
deceived in my reliance on her.
For the moment that did believe
ler guilty, felt an anguish that
could not have long sustained. Now
ny heart is lightened. The inno-
.ent suffers, but she whom thought
imiabIe and good has not betrayed
he trust repOsed in her, and | am
conSOled. ......... .......
Amiable cousin such were your
houghts, mild and gentle as your
,wn dear eyes and voice. But IL
vas wretch, and none ever con-
,eived of the misery that then en-
lured.
CHAPTER V.
Nothing is more painful to the
human mind, than, after the feel
ngs have been worked up by
luick succession of events, the dead
,almness of inaction and certainty
which follows, and deprives the
oul both of hone and fear. Justine
lied; she rested and / was left
live. The blood flowed freely in
ny veins, but weight OF despair
Ind remorse pressed on my heart,
yhIch nothing could remove. Sleep
led from my eyes, / wandered like
IN evil spirit, for ] had committed
leeds of mischief beyond descrlp-