Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-20
DARK DAYS
BY HUI OH CON w AY.

Author of "Called Back"

lOV'ooo'otoCW u INV VOoO otto'c'
But the man-the man VINO In lew Gays
time is to be tried for anothers act? Well,
what of him? The fool will doubtless be ac-
quilted. Fool! Yes, it is the ii hf term for
one who can bring himself under suspicion.
But if justice runs on the wrong Track until
the end-if that man diesa
What then? What is this miserable life,
what are a hundred lives, when weighed
against Philippa's happiness? What is CON
science? What is right and wrong? What
is the phantom which men call honora
What, after all, is crimes Be silent, and
forget. You are asked to do no more. You
have riches. youth. health and strong will
The fairest woman on the earth adores you.
Why hesitate! Why let one Doors life
weigh in the scale?
Argue the matter in another way. Arc
not thousands of men slain every year by the
whim of monarch or statesmans The
thought of their deaths troubles not those
who send them forth to fight. Men kill each
other for revenge for money, for point OF
honor, and the killer lives on like other men
live! Trust this man to the Wanted array
OF justice. He is innocent, and will come
from the ordeal unscathed. Il found guilty,
let him die. He will not be the first limo
cent man who has died, nor will he be the
last to die. 1t but one livel He is nothing
to you; think of him no more. Come what
may, you will always have your sunny home
and the woman you love. Her chlldr n will
grow up around you. Why hesitate?
ife's happiness is to be won by simply seal
ing your lips. Its cost is but, surprising
Justice blunders, to bear the burden of one
mans death A paltry rricn!
This was the temptation WI which
wrestled during those long Dours. Again
and again was on the point OF yielding.
Once or twice l rose to my feet with the
paper, and letting things take their own
course. Once Or twice | even forced my
steps some distance in the direction OF home,
but each time l turned, went back to the
sheltered spot, threw myself again on the
ground, and fought the ba tie anew.
No, l could not do this thing. ! was a
gentleman and man Of honor. Paltry as
the price was when compared with what it
might buy, could not pay it. Although
my whole soul was merged in Philippa's well
fare, could not, even for her sake, suffer
an innocent man to be done unjustly to
death. The crime was too black, too base,
too contemplate! l felt sure that, with the
mans blood morally on my head, the SUI
premest joys which life could give would
not lull my conscience to rest. knew 1t
would not be long be- ore remorse and shame
drove me to commit suicide.
Let the preachers say that sin is easy; that
wrong is more alluring than right. There
may lie some sins w ich are easily COM
mitted, but I dare to say that there are
others which the average man, educated by
bLe cOQG OIL HOnOr, ana ufottlluS SHAME anu
cowardice, fin Is it far easier to avoid than
to bring himself to commit. No, every sin
is not easy!
But all the same my struggle was mortal
one. At times | fancy-it may he but fancy
that even now my mind bears some traces
of that conflict; a conflict in which my vic
tory meant ruin to my nearest and dearest
Was not right when said that my tempta-
ton was an all but unpar lleled one! Yet in
reasserting this let me humbly disclaim all
credit for not having yielded. strove to
yield, but could not.
1t was only when Ihad conquered and put
the temptation from me that I was able to
see how utterly useless such crime as that
urged upon me would have been. Doubtless
Philippe. sooner or later, would have learned
that Sir Mervyn. Ferrand's supposed muir
derer had paid the penalty OF the crime.
How would it have Jared with us then
then, when reparation placed out of the
question? Knowing as l did every thought
of my wifes, every turn of her impulsive,
sensitive nature, was fain to tell myself
that such news would be simply her death
blow.
But what was to be done! Finding that
could not compass the treachery which
dared to mediate, | cast about or another
loophole Of escape. What if were to return
to England and accuse myself of the crime!
To insure Philippa's safety I would right
willingly give away my own life. 1t showed
the state to which my mind was reduced
when l say that considered this scheme in
all it's bearings, and for a while thought it
furnished a solution to my difficulties!
wonder if my brain was wandering?
laughed in bitter merriment as the alb
surdity of my new plan forced itself upon
me. had forgotten Philippa, and what the
| effect of such sacrifice would be upon her
I had forgotten that she loved me, even as 1
loved her; that my dying for her sake-for
| the sake of saving her from the consequences
| of hat nipbf-w1T11 make
piation, if any were due from her, the most
| fearful which human or diabolical ingenuity
could devise
No! Neither by SHINING against my fellow
man nor by a voluntary sacrifice of my own
| life could | save her. After all my pro-
tracted mental struggles, all my lonely hours
| of anguish and wild scheming, was forced
| to return to the point trcm which started
| Philippa must surrender herself, and Tree
| this innocent man. There was, indeed, no
| alternative!
And day gone, or all but gone! The
| trial on the Goth! To reach England-to
reach Tewnham in time to stop that trial,
we must travel day and night. Day and
| night across sunny or starlit Spaln-across
| pleasant France-we must speed on, until
we reached our own native land, now lying
| in all the rich calm of the early autumn. [
must lead my wife; my love. to her doom!
/ rose from the ground. felt weary, and
| as if had been cudgeled Ill every limb
dragged myself slowly back to my home
''S6e must be told; she must be told. But
how to tell hery l muttered as went along
NV appearance must have been wretched,
for ] received the impression that several
grave looking sevillanos turned and looked
after me as passed by. Even as cowardly
felon who drags himself slowly to the scat
fold l dragged myself 70 the gate 81 my
pleasant home, and on lettering feet passed
into that fragrant space in which the hap
piest hours of nv life had been spent.
As l entered, the remembrance of some
tale which once had read flashed through
my mind-a tale Of the ferocity of bygone
age. 1t was of a prisoner who was forced
by his captors to strike a dagger into the
heart of the woman he loved. I know nos
where the tale is to be found or where I
read it,
But 1t seemed to me that mine was
parallel case.
Pity mel