Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-27
" Bot whv did he plead guilty" I asked.

'Because he avas q .fool,' raped out Mr..
Crisp
because he was fool, " raped out Mr..
Crisp. cit was like committing suicide.
don't care a button for the man himself; but
| confess was annoyed at seeing my case
all knocked to pieces by his obstinacy. l
went to him; if you were in court you no
doubt saw me- l begged him to withdraw
his plea. l told him l could save him Yet
the fool insisted
'Did penitence or remorse urge him?'
81 don't know. He could have had more
time for penitancs and remorse if he had
let me save him from the gallows. No; he
says, It's no good--not a bit of good. You
dent know all know There's some one in .
court who knows all about it-saw it all
done. She's come to hang me- have no
id, a what he meant"
Istarted. l knew what the man meant.
He, in common with every one else in that
court, had turned and looked at Philippe as
she rose from her seat and addressed the
judge. 1t was the sight of Philippa that
had taken away the wretchs last hope of
escape.
81 wash my hands of the fellow, of
course" continued Mr.. Crisp; "but l did
take the trouble to inquire if any witnesses
for the prosecution had been allowed to enter
the court. am assured they We're all kept
in waiting outside"
[ sat for some moments in deep thought.
The solicitor looked at me as if he fancied l
had already taken up much of his valu-
able time as he could spare.
SIS there any way of gaining access to the
condemned man?' [ said. could you, for
instance, get an order to see him?"
''No doubt could; but have no object in .
seeing him."
Il will give you an object" I said Il
want you to see that man, and if possible
set written, OF at least dictated, confession
from hinl-not Of the bald fact that he is .
guilty, but of all particulars connected with
the murder"
Mr.. Crisp looked surprised, and expressed
his opinion that it was all but impossible to
obtain what l wanted.
l had taken rather fancy to the brisk
spoken, sharp little man. He seemed to me
trustworthy; 50 that, after consideration. l
determined to confide to him my reasons
for making this request. Under the assur-
ance of professional secrecy, 1 told him!
briefly so much as I thought fit of PhiIippa;s
and my own connection with the events Of
that night. He listened with al interes
which augured we'll for the reception which
awaits the sombro tale l now give to the
world. His curiosity seemed excited, and
he promised to see the convict, and if posi-
BILE learn all l wanted to know. I left my
address and babe him good day.
| did not care to linger at 1.ewnham; so l
walked down to the railway station, intend
ing to return to town by the next train. AS
1 waited on the platform a down train
came in. A sudden impulse seized me- The
day was still young. I had time to spare
l crossed the bridge, entered. the train, and
in quarter of an hour WIS at Rolling. l
went there because l was impelled by de-
sire to once more visit tie actual scene of
the beginning of all these troubles.
/ walked that road which Sir Mervyn
Ferrand had walk ed that dark night. But
oh, how changed every thing was! Yet not
more changed than our owia lives! It was a
glorious afternoon in September. The rain
of the preceding day had left the earth
moist and fresh. The fields, on either side
of the read, We're cleaning with that bright
pure emerald which they wear after the
ruthless scythe has swepS away the ripe
grass and the marguerites and other flowers
which grew among it; else they were
filed from hedge to hedge with a golden
sea of waving corn, or sheayes waiting
to be garnered; for the harvest that
year was not early. The wild roses were
long over, but fragrant honeysuckle and
other wild flowers still made gay the hedge
rows and banks. The birds had awakened
from their August silence and were singing
once more. The great sleepy COWS lay under
the shade of the trees. Tho large mows of
new hay stood side by side with their dngy-
looking but more valuable elder brothers.
The whole land seemed wrapped in happy
autumnal repose. The scene was calm, peace
full and thoroughly typical of England. So
hos mt m fu1l oil Of 1o,,
my native land that had those pages been
then written should upon my return home
have erased all my glowing description of
Seville.
A breath of soft but fresh air came blow.
ing from the faraway downs I drew in a
deep draught threw back my shoulders
and stood erect. laughed aloud in my great
happiness as comical picture, familiar to
my childhood, of Christian losing his bur-
den, rose before my mind, and seemed to be
the exact thing wanted to illustrate my own
case Yes, the burden had borne had fallen
from my back forever!
All! here is the spot-the very spot where
Sir Mervyn fell. It was here, Just under
that cluster of ragged robbins, 1 must have
have placed his corpse, little thinking that
the kind white snow would hide it and save
my love and me- Oh, how prayed in those
days that the bitter weather might last; that
its iron grip would hold the world fast until
Philippa's health and strength returnedi 1t
lid So and saved usl
Where are the SHOWS that fell last yearp
An! s-.ould | not rather sing, '1W bore is thy
grief of yesterdav?n Gone like the snow.
Other snow may fall ether grief may come,
hut last years snow and yesterdays grief
are gon4 forever!
Nevertheless that spot was too suggestive
Of horrible remin SCIENCES for me to inger
long ov + it, I turned away, and in my
great happiness could whisper to myself
that l forgave the dead man for the ill he
had wrought Nav his bones rest in