The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1885-08-21
THE WIFE'S SACRIFICE.
A Story of the Transvaal.

ummer assizes for Griqualand West,
the languid interest which had hither-
to been taken in the proceedings sud
denly developed into something nearly
akin to excitement. Thejury hadjust
returned q verdict of culpable homi-
eide against a dozen out of some fifty
Shangaans who stood huddled tOgeth-
er, helpless and frightened, in the dock,
charged with participating in a fatal
tribal ARRAY at the LoneSta Diamond
Mining Company's compound; the
Judge hadduly sentenced thegaping UNI
fortunates, and the jailers were endeav-
'oring to sort them out from amongst
their unConv1cted but probablyno less
guilty comrades, when the Crown Pros
%ecutor, a fresh-cOlored young English
man, with no small idea of his own
Importance, turned in his seat at the
barrister's table, and whispered to the
official who sat behind him to put for
ward Dirk Sylvester. The official rose
and repeated the name aloud; a hum
of expectancy ran through the little
crow3 OF spectators, and passed on to
the loungers outside, who eagerly
crowded into the corrugated iron tenn
pie of justice; gentlemen of the long
robe and members of the press hurried
over from the Yellow Bar just oppo-
site and the stalwart Zulu, attired in
canvas, marked with a broad black
arrow, paused in his monotonous
jerking OF thepunkah cord in order to
catch a glympse of "Baas' Sylvester,
as he stepped into the dock.
The prisoner was a tall, handsome
colonial, with dark cleaning eyes,
black beard, and a skin thepaleness of
which had been riPened into swarthi-
ness by the fierce African sun. Hewas
erect and fearless; he threw a glance OF
defiancea at j senemies; he nodded with
q smile to his friends, and then, as the
door of apriyate entrance TO the body
OF the court opened, and a figure
draped in purest white, with bright
golden hair ripping in rich p~rofusion
I'VE the shapely shoulders, glided in
softly and quietly like q sunbeamfrom
the free world outside, he leant over
the rail which interposed between him
and liberty, and hoarsely whispered
her name-the dearest name on earth
to him.
1t was Sylvester's wife. She re-
sponded quickly with a look more elo-
quen- than words; and then the
prisoner drew himself up TO his full
height, folded his arms and listened in
tently as the clerk of the court-an old
friend with whom he had spent MANI
q registering evening in his bachelor
days-droned through the indictment.
q In q clear voice replied to the
charge OF willful murder, Not guilty. !,
Tho Crown Prosecutor, ia slow and
measured tones, began to sketch the
history Of the crime; the Judge lounced
back IN ms easy chair and l~eisureIy
sought for the cleanpages in his record
book; the counsel for thedefense push.
cd back his wig from his perspirinp
brow, and huntedIout areferelce in an
almost forgotten worSS3n the Roman
Dutch law, the spectators hushed their
murmuring: the punkah swaved pesr,-
larry to and fro overhead, and Syl-.
westerns wife, sitting there ii tsve well
Of the sitting court, with her sweet
blue eyes riveted on the prisoner, ana
her luxuriant locks rising and falling
with the artificial breeze, looked to me
even more beautiful than two years
ago, when she nightly ravished the
hearts Of susceptible digcers in the
make-shift theatre in the Dufoitspan
road.
In those memorable bygonedayssh she
was Mad6moiselle Marie la Cour, and
the star OF q travelling theatrical COM
pany, which, like most other "combi-
nations OF TALENT visiting the Dia-
mond Fields, never, as q whole. pot
any further. The proprietor made so
much money in a short season that he
aef5 70 assume the Iesseeship OF q biz
Australian house, and Marie's father
iook over the management Of the sheen
TINS herssfftt IF their shepherd. How
div1nely she danced and sang: how she
Drought the tears into the eyes of
great rough fellows, or made them
snake the raiters with their sonorous
iHugnter; how she duttered the hearts