The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1885-03-11
DAYS
HUGH GO Y,
Author Of /" Called Back"
CHAPTER 1v.-AT ALL COST, SLEEP

1uS uduO VII uIo p1StSl, hhO" WV
the man was dead. Before l turned
the lantern on his white face l knew
who the man was. Sir Mervyn Fer
rand had paid for his sin with his life
1t needed little professional skill to
determine the cause of his death. n
bullet fired, it seemed to me, at close
quarters had passed absolutely through
the heart. He must have fallen
without a moan Killed. l knew, by
the hand of the woman he had wronged.
A sneering smile yet fingered on his
set features. ] could even imagine the
words which had accompanied it, when
swift and sudden, without n mo-
ment's grace for repentance or confes-
sion. death had been melted out to him.
At one moment he stood erect and full
of life, knocking, it may be, her VINO
had trusted him. at the next, before
the sentence he was speaking was com
pleted, he layed ~lifeleSs at her feet,
with the snow-flakes beginning to
form his winding-sheet!
Oh, it was vengeance. swift. deadly
vengeance! But why, oh why had she
wreaked it? Philippa, my peerless
Philippa, a murdereSs! Oh, it was too
fearful, too horrible. Unjust be dream
ing. All of my own thoughts of revenge
left me. It was for the time pity,
sheer pity, I felt for the man, cut Off
in the prime of his life. While knew
he was alive l coul& look forward to
and picture the minute when we
should stand coolly seeking to kill one
another; but now that he was dead, l
hated him no longer. All. death is a
sacred thing. Dead! Sir Mervyn
Ferrand dead, and slain by Philippa!
1t could not be true! 1t should not
be truel Yet I shuddered as l remem-
bered the passion she had thrown into
those words, Basil, did you ever hate
a man" l gave a low cry Of anguish
as I remembered how l had hurled
from me the pistol she had let fall
the very weapon which had done the
dreadful deed.
Killed by Philippa! Not in asudden
burst of uncomfortable passion, but
with deliberate intent. She must have
gone armed to meet him. She must
have shot him through
the heart; must have seen him fall.
Then, only then, the horrible deed
which she had wrought must have
been fully realized! Then she had
turned and fled from the spot in a
frenzy. Oh, my poor girl! my poor
girl!
Utterly %bewildered by my anguish,
I rose from my knees and stood for a
while beside the corpse. 1t was in
that moment I learned how much l
really loved the woman who had done
this thing. Over all my grief and
horror this love rose paramount. At
all cost I must ave her, save her
from the hands of justice; save her
from the fierce elements which her ten
der frame was even at this moment BRAY.
ing. And as 1 recalled how she had
sought me yesterday with the tale Of
her wrong-how she had wildly fled
from me, a few minutes ago, madly,
bIindly into the night; as I thought of
the injuries she had suffered, and
which has led her to shed this mans
blood; as I contrasted her in her pres
ent position with what she was when
first l knew her and loved her, the
pity began to fade from my heart;
my thoughts toward the lifeless form
at my feet grew stern and sombre, and
found myself beginning, by the old
code of an eye for an eye, to justify,
although 7 regretted P%hilippa's fear
full act. Right or wrong, she was the
woman I loved; and l swore l would
save her from the consequences Of
her crime, even-heaven help me-
if the accusation, when made, must
fall upon my shoulders.
Yet it was not the beginning of
any scheme to evade justice which
induced me to raise the dead body
and bear it TO the side of the road.
wnere 1 placed it under the low bank
on whch the hedge grew. 1t was
the reverence which one pays to
death made me do this. 1 could not
; leave the poor wretch lying in the
very middle of the highway, for the
first passer-by to stumble against.
Tomorrow he would, of course, he
found. Tomorrow the hue and cry
would be out! Tomorrow Philippa,
my Philippe, would-Oh, heavens,
never, never, never!
So I laid what was left of Sir
Mervyn Ferrand reverentially by the
side of the lonely road. l even tried
to close his CLASSY eyes, and 1 COW
cred his face with his own handker-
chief. Then, with heart holding fear
and anguish enough for a lifetime,
I turned and went in search of the
poor, unhappy girl.
Where should 1 seek her? Who
knew what her remorse may have
urged her to do? Who knew whittier
her horror may have driven her? 1t
needs but to fird Philippe ~lifeless on
the road to complete the heaviest tale
of grief which can be eXacted from
one man in one short night! 1 clench,
ed my teeth and rushed on,
Ihad the road all to myself. No one
was abroad in such weather. Indeed
rev persons were seen at night in any
weather in this lonely part Of the
country. made straight for my own
house. The dismal thought came tc
me, that. unless Philippa kept to the
road she was lost TO me forever. II
she strayed to the right or to the left
how on such a night could 1 possibly
find her? My own hope was that she
would 60 straight to my cottage; sc
thither + made the best of my way. l,
she had not arrived, I'must get what
assistance I could, and seek for her il
the fields to the right and left of the
road. 1t was a dreaay comfort to re-
member that all the ponds and space:
of water were frozen six inches thick
hesitated a moment when l reach
ed her late residence. Should in
quire if she had returned thither
No; when morning revealed the ghast
~ event Of the night, my having done
so would awake suspicion, Let ms
first 60 home.
Home at last! In a moment I shall
know the worst. l opened the slide
of my lantern, which was still alight,
and threw the rays on the path which
led to my door. My heart gave a great
bound of thankfulnesS. There on the
SNOW, not yet oDilterated W more
recent flakes. were the Prints of a
small foot. Philippa, S I prayed but
scarcely dared to hope she might, had
some straight to my house.
Ny man opened the door for me. 1t
was well l had seen those footprints,
as my knowledge of Philippa's arrival
enabled me to assume anatural air
"My sister has Gomez 1 asked.
ayes, sir, about a quarter Of an houl
ago."
1--WE missed each other on the road
What a night!' I said, throwing off my
snow-covered coat.
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"In the sitting-room, sir" Then
lowering his voice, William added