Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-03-08


choeric. | told him called on him because
was mach Interested i'll the case of the
convict William Evans. Mr.. Crisp, that was
his name, frowned and fdgeted about with
some papers which We're in front of him.
Il would rather not talk about the case,'
he said sharply. Nothing for many years
has so much annoyed me-"
''Why? Your client only met with his
deserts"
"True-true But | am lawyer, sir OuI
province is not to think so much Of deserts
as of what we can do for client. II is hard
to try and serve fool
mo doubt; but scarcely understand your
meaning
Meaning, could have saved that man.
There was no evidence to speak of against
him. What did it amount to? A pistol of
peculiar make found in a field half mile
away from the scene of the murder; one
man who could swear that the pistol was
my clients property-a pawnbroker, to
whom he wanted TO sell ii. Positively, sir,
that was the whole case for the Crown.
Never SO diSguSted in my life-neverr
The eXcitlble little mans looks showed
that his disgust was not assumed.
So the pistol which had thoughtlessly
hurled away had, after all, furnished the
clew and brought the criminal to justice.
Although was now quite satisfied that the
right person was to suffer for the dark
crime, resolved to get all the additional
information could.
But why did he plead guilty?" / asked.
Because he was fool" raped out MIR.
Crisp. 1T was like committing suicide. l
a hui 10 tba IA .h,tf
l confess l was annoyed at seeing my case
all knocked to pieces by his obstinacy.
went to him; if you We're in court you no
doubt saw me. begged him TO withdra W
his plea. | told him l could save him. Yet
the fool insisted
Dia pentence or remOrSe urge him?"
Il don't know. lie could have had more
time for penitence and remorse If he had
let me save him from the gailows. No; he
says, It's no g0od-not a bit of good. You
don't know all l know. There's some one
in court who knows all about it-saw it all
done. She's come to hang me- have no
idea what he meant"
| started. l knew what the man meant.
He, in common with every one else in that
court, had turned and looked at Philippa as
she rose from her seat and addressed the
judge. 1t was the sight of Philippa that had
taken away the wretch's last hope Of escape.
Il wash my hands of the fellow, of course" +"
continued Mr.. CrIsp;'"but did take the
trouble to inqfire if any witnesses for the
prosecution had been allowed to enter the
court. l am assured they were ali kept in
waiting outside.'
sat for some moments in deep thought.
The sol citor looked at me, as if he fancied
had already taken up as much of his vaiu-
able time as he could spare.
rs there any way of gaining access to the
condemned man?' l said. Gould you, for
instance, get an order to see him?'
No doubt could; but 1 have no object
in seeing him."
Il will give you an object" 1 said. Il
want you to see that man, and if possible,
get written, or at least die. .ated, confession
from him-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.
had taken rather fancy to the brisk
spoken, sharp little man. He seemed to me
trustw orthy; so that, after consideration, l
determined to confiie to him my reasons
for making this request. Under the assur-
ance of professional secrecy, l told him
briefly so much as thought fit Of Philippas
and my own connection with the events of
that night. He listened with an interest
which augured well for the reception which
awaits the somber tale l now give to the
world. His curiosity seemed excited, and
he promised TO see the convict, and, if possi-
bic. learn all wanted to know. left my
address, and bade him good-day.
/ did not care to linger at Tewnham; so
walked down to the railway-station, intend
ing to return to town by the next train. As
waited on the platform down-train came
in. A sudden impulse seized me. The day
was still young. l had time to spare. l
crossed the bridge, entered the train, and in
quarter of an hour was at Roding. Invent
there because | was impelied BY desire to
once more visit the actual scene OF the be-
ginning Of all these troubles.
Walked that road which Sir Mervyn Fer
rand had walked that dark night. But oh,
how changed everything was! Yetnot more
changed than our own lives. Itwas a glori-
Gus afternoon in September. The rain Of
the preceding day had left the earth moist
aid fresh. The fields, on either side Of the
road, were cleaning with that bright pure
emerald which they wear after the ruthless
scythe has swept away the ripe grass and
the marguerites and other flowers which
grow among it; or else they We're filled from
hedge to hedge with golden sea of waving
corn, or sheaves waiting to be garnered; for
the harvest that year was not early. The
wild roses were long over, but fragrant
honeysGckle and other wild flowers still
made gay the hedgerows and banks. The
birds had awakened from their August ST.
lence, and We're singing once more. The
great sleepy cows lay under the shade of the
trees. The large mows of new hay stood
side by side with their dingy-loOking, but
more valuable elder brothers. The whole
land seemed wrapped in happy autumnal
repose. The scene was calm, peaceful, and
thoroughly typical of England. So beauti-
full it was so full l now felt of love for my
native land, that had these pages been then
written, l should upon my return home,
have erased all my glowing description of
vile.
4 breath Of soft but fresh air came blow
ing from the faraway downs. l drew in
deep draught; l threw back my shoulders
and stood erect. l laughed aloud in my
great happiness as comical picture, fami
ar to my childhood, of Christian losing his
burden, rose before my mind, and seemed
% be the exact thing wanted to illustrate my
)wn case. Yes the burden l had borne had
fallen from my back foreveri
All! here is the spot-the very spot where
Sir Mervyn fell. 1t was here just under that
'!uSter of ragged-robins, must have placed
lis corpse, little thinking that the kind white
NOW would hide it, and save my love and
ne. Oh, how l prayed in those days that
he bitter weather might last; that its iron
rip would hold the world fast until Philip
,a's health and strength returned! 1t did
70, and saved us!
where are the SHOWS that fell last year%'
All! should | not rather sing, Where is the |
,rief of yesterday?' Gone like the snow. |
)ther snow may fall, other grief may come,
'ut last years snow and yesterdays grief !
re gone forever!
Nevertheless, that spot was too suggestive |
# horrible "reminiscences for me to linger |
ong over it! l turned away, and in my
reat happiness could whisper to myself |
hat fOrgave the dead man for the i'll he |