The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1888-11-15

| MRS. TRAINOR RUSHED IN AND FELL ON THE
| BODY OF HER HUSBAND"
stood, as it were, transfixed at the sight OF
! the dead. The men who had brought down
the body at last found words to tell their dis.
NAL story
| They were at work on the upper floor,
when thep heard a noise in one of the adjoin-
! ing rooms; as the apartment had been for
some time unoccupied, they were naturally
surprised. After while all sounds ceased,
and still no one came out to descend the
stairs. Appalled, by the silence, they broke
open the door, and discovered Trainor hang
ing by the neck from coat-hook: a chair,
overturned, had served as the scaffold from
which he had stepped into eternity. They
took him down. but life was already gone. A
paper lay on his hat, with these words hasti,
| ~ pencilled on it:
"On my desk is a letter that explains
all. Pm off Goodbye.
"JoHN TRAINoR"
Mr.. Major, hearing this, instantly went
into his office, and reappeared reading note
addressed to him. Mr.. Norcross, meanwhile.
was striving to raise the wretched woman tc
her feet and to lead her to the carriage. Mr..
Irillion no longer whisked his defiant eve.
brow, but stood downcast, silent, and con.
| science-stricken.
"Listen moment" said Mr.. Major. "Here
is letter from our rash friend, and as it
concerns you, gentlemen, will read It, Bu,
first, my dear Madam, let me help you into
the carriage"
The PROSTATE woman made no answer.
save by slow rolling of her body-her sobs
continuing without cessation. The letter was
read:
"MR. MAJoR,-To make payment fol-
shares bought by Mr. Trillion, | borrowed
ten thousand dollars from your house yester
day Mr.. Trillion has failed, and does not
protect me- He escapes, and am left in the
trap L charge him to pay my wife the
not s he owes me- AS he hopes to be saved
let him consider that debt of honor
"But my death lay at Norcross' door,
He has followed me with steady bay, like q
bloodhound. His claim is now settled for
ever as told him. don't ask God to for
give him-I don't, and God won't. Let him
live, the cold-blooded wretch that he is; one
world or another would make no difference:
for, to a devil like him, there is no heaven,
no earth, no nothing but hell.
|. "My poor wife! See to her, if you have
any pity for JOHN TRAINoR.n
"Look," said Mr.. Major, holding the letter
under the stony eyes of Norcross, "see where
the tears blistered the paper!"
All the while, Mrs. Trainor kept up an in.
artlculate moaning, though the sound grew
fainter from exhaustion.
"Let us stop this" said Trillion, seeing the
gathering crowd of passers-by. "Better be
at home"
Pointing to the still PROSTATE woman. he.
with Mr.. Major. gently raised her up and
placed her in carriage She did not speak.
but murmured pleadingly, while her face
wore look of agonized longing, and her out
stretched hands clutched nervously.
"Poor thing!" said Mr. Major, his voice be.
ginning to tremble-"she shall have her dead
husband, if it is any comfort to her."
"That's right" said Trillion, "carry him of
before half-a-dozen coroner buzzards come tc
fight over him."
The body was laid in the carriage. the
head she had SO often caressed resting in her
lap, while her tears bathed the unconscious
face, and her groans became heart-rending.
Still holding the carriage door, Mr.. Major
turned to Norcross, saying:
Il don't know what you have done, but his
blood is on your soul. l would rather be
like him there, than you, on your feet. Tril.
lion, don't mind the $4,000; but was it Just
the manly thing to leave man that trusted
you in this way to be sacrifceds Why didn't
you come down this morning?'
He stepped into the carriage, and away il
rolled with its load Of sorrow.
Mr.. Norcross found the chances of his com.
panion and the bystanders quite uncomforta.
BILE, and he SUNK silently away. Failure and
disgrace he had met; but this was position
for which he had not the nerve Flight was
the only alternative for Norcross AS long
as he remained in New York every face
seemed to wear a look of condemnation That
very day he left the city in disguise. Desti-
tute, friendless, and broken-spirited, he wan
dered from city to city, vagabond upor
the face of the earth. In New Orleans he
was SO far reduced that he was obliged to carr
a miserable support in an oyster-saloon neal
the levee. One night, fight began between
some drunken boatmen; and Norcross, though
in no way concerned in the affair, received
chance bullet in his forehead, and fell dead
without word