The Dillon tribune. [volume] (Dillon, Mont.) 1881-1941, 1885-09-05

W,1 "o.nMS 10 ner now. Eternity M,
Time, lay before her. no'
me long Journey by land, the sborte,
!oulney oy sea. passed like protracted VT
i.r ouereno cream. All she knew or cared t.
know was that she was speedinr ~,
London. At last the sound of rna,:ss
voices, the sight Of English faces. to1d i hs.
that she had reached the last stara ~ To- To-
Journey. Then she reused herself and ,,,.S.
her final preparations. 1 ''''''s
Sne searched her pocket, and tora int.
small oits every piece Of paper it contained
SO that no written word could he laft =,
gave ciew to her identity. Last OF oil sh>
1re" from an envelope a photograph ~
beatr1ce. She gazed at it long and nassio,,
ately, and then, with a deep si1b tora :;
across and across, and threw the pieces =
the winds. She dared not even heen III.
poor relic of her darling. ''H
London at last! Sarah Miller stan,.d
from the train, and once more stood on En-.
plaStorm which she had Quilted rather more
tnan three days before. 1t was now nast
O'CLOCK IN the morning. Whittier should
sne turn' she stood hesitating and Devil
There was one thing more which sb. had
sectleo 70 10. What was lit Oh. thos.
S wneels, those wheels viii they never stop
oue Pfesseu ner myers to her temples, and
sCrove 70 recall what resolution had slinne.l
from her mind '1't'p7S
Alb, now she remembered what Il -.
Her money, she must get rid Of that. an
nao no further need Of money, now that shs
nao reached the final goal. In her pocket
wero ootn German and English coins. Shs
couecteo them, and creeping stealthilv to
sne oox which stands awaiting contributions
t0r some, doubtless, very deserving charity.
she dropped in every coin that was unon he,
person. This done, she believed there waa
mounting left which could in any way show
who she was or whence she came.
one passed out under the archway. q soil.
eary, dark robed figure with head bsnt a,
IN grief. She passed from the gastlv white
glare or electric lamps into the all but de.
serted STRAND. She walked some wav mr.
the Strand, then, without any definite aim.
burned to the right and by and by found
herself on the embankment.
sui she wandered on until she reached
Waterloo bridge. She went half way across
it, then stopped short and gazed over the
parapet into the river. But no Thought of
self-destruction had entered into her he.d
although the red light was still before her
eyes, the wild rush still sounding in her ears.
and those fearful iron wheels in her brain
circling more rapidly than ever. No. the
river had but for her the attraction which a
smooth, calm, peaceful stream has for ali
who are in deep distress. So she looked and
looked; even craned over the parapet to neer
into its somber, placid depths.
At that moment binding light flashed
upon her eyes ami hand grasped her
shoulder. ''Now none of that nonsense.0
said sharp voice-the voics OF a policemen
who hal seen her dark form AGAINST the
stonework Of the bridge. The woman turned
her face to his, and the anguish written upon
1t persuaded the constable that he had arrived
just in the nick of time.
River airs bad at night for such as you"
he said in kinder voice. ''Now you 70
straight home like good woman. I'll SEQ you
SAFE OF the bridge. You can 20 from which
end you like, but ii you stay here any loneer.
we'll, must run you in"
She claspsd her hands. II am madY' she
cried In piteous, izaploring tones. Cant you
see am mads Take me and put me where
mad people are sent to"
Strange as confession Of insanity seemed.
the puzzled policeman was bound to take her
at her word, the more so because she woulc
not or could not give any account OF herself.
pr name any place Of residence. So she was
led away docile captive, and spent the
rest OF the night, or rather morning, under
detention.
Mad or not, she believed her work was
now done; believed that she would be be.
slowed whore bel. mistress would never find
her, never hear of her. Mad or not, her ono
aim was to keep the secret of
Tho way in which Maurice Hervey died. II
mad, thu poor wretch's cunning had all but
supplied the place Of reason.
All but, for as usual it had forgotten one
important thing. Unless Beatrice was in
Iormed of her husbands death, unless that
1eath were proved beyond a doubt, Sarah
4iller's crime would b useless aud her sac-
ridcc futile