The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1888-06-02
heaven, help me-strengthen me to
bear this heavy crossl"
And peace briefly came in sleep.
CHAPTER Xxx.


her, the true nature of his feelings
when this surprising news came to him.
1t put him In a perfect ECSTASY of de-
light. He would not trust himself in
the presence of any living person to
show it. He went out into the woods
and there laughed, capered, and actual
ly shouted with glee. Little by little
the mans nature had been wholly
changed. Little by little his love for
his child-the only thing that had re-
manned from his better days, to human
ize him had yielded to his powerful
lust for wealth, and his absorbing anx-
iety to retain in safety the great fruits
of his terrible crime. To seal the
mouth of one who might have been
swift witness against him, he had been
willing, nay, anxious, to sacrifice his
daughters happiness by hateful and
unequal match. And now that young
Van WICK was suddenly removed by
death, the release of ,Jessica was the
last thing that he thought of as cause
fC~ congratulation.
The thought that filled his soul with
Joy was that, save Jessica, the only per-
son who could give information that
would trace the murder and robbery of
Mason Belmont to him was silent In
death. The dreadful secret was kept
by himself and by the grave alone; he
was absolutely safe.
For few days the thought kept his
brain in such whirl that he was able
to form no plans for the future. Time
was when his first question would have
been: What can / do for Jessica p
how can I best benefit herr" But now
his verv soul had become calloused by
his misfortunes, by his crimes, and by
the acquisition of his ill-gotten fortune.
The questions that now haunted his
thoughts by day and his dreams by
night were: How can | enjoy all this
money in safety? Where can [ go with
it? How far must l go before its use
will cease to excite suspicion?" He
went out into the woods, but he did not
labor. Hour after hour he sat idly
upon the trunk of fallen tree, trying
to answer these questions; night after
night did he return home undecided.
AS he became absorbed in these
thoughts he grew harsher and sterner
in his treatment of the only being who
still chung to him, and day by day was
the burden of that patient soul in
creased.
What some one has styled the i11-
sanity OF guilt must have seized him.
He became suddenly fearful lest the
murdered mans money had slipped
from his grasp. More than eight
months had passed since, in the early
hours of that dreadful day, he had
locked it up in the little closet. Never
since then had he placed key in that
lock. Sometimes he had sat before it
alone at night, looking at the closed
and locked receptacle with kind of
rapture; but he had never opened nor
examined it.
But he had been away at least some
hours of each day since. Jessica passed
much of her time in her room, up
stairs. Suppose that some prowler
had discovered the prize, and robbed
the robber?
These torturing fears became at last
intolersble. On the night of the third
day after the separate visits of his
daughter and Randall Belmont to Mrs.
Van Wyck, he determined to have an
end of them. He would satisfy him
self by ocular inspection that the treas
ure was safe.
He sat modify by the window, after
supper, repulsing every attention of his
daughter, impatiently waiting for the
silent hours of the night, that he might
execute his purpose.
The hours passed slowly. Near ten
o'clock, Jessica took a candle to go to
her lonely room.
She hesitated, with her hand upon
the latch.
Did some premonition of the events
that night hideous in her memory then
assall her? Do coming events thus cast
their shadows before?
Goodnight, father" she said.
Goodnight.
Five minutes later he looked up, and
saw her still standing there.
What dye want girl?" he growled.
Wont you kiss me, father?"
"Jess-don't be a fooll"
The door closed between them. New
er were their mortal eyes to see each
other again.
Bryson waited till the hands of the
clock pointed to midnight. Long since
he had ceased to wind the striker; it's
sound in the night had smitten his
soul as with the voice of thunder.
Then he unlocked the closet door,
pulled out the money, and counted it
all over.
1t required an hour to do it; but it
was all save-twenty-fve thousand dol
lars. He stuffed it back into the little
compartment, and relocked it.
What restless fend then led the
man down into the cellar, to look
around, and be sure that nothing APP
peared there that might betray him?
No man can know; not even the tor
mented criminal himself could have
told.
He went below and stamped on the
flags as if he would bid them hold their
secret He peered into every nook and
die down to the bare ground, and to
the stones, as if he expected to see the
dead hand of Mason Belmont thrust
out
He gave himself up to the delirium
that the scene and the hour wrought in
his brain.
1T is mine, / say-mine; rightfully
minel" he shrieked. The dead walls
of the cellar gave back the echoes
He was my enemy; he ruined me
when he might have saved me. I had
my revenge; his treasure became mine.
Its only fraction of his wealth I wish
1t was more. But l had my revenge
and the money is all minel"
His hands gestured to suit the words,
and the candlestick fell from his grasp.
With an oath he snatched it up so
quickly that the flame was not extin-
pushed. Then he hurried up to his
room, and, throwing himself, dressed
as he was, upon his bed, soon fell
asleep.
To those who are inclined to be su-
perstitious, it might almost seem as if
the band of the murdered man had
been stretched forth from his unknown
grave III that cellar, to overwhelm his
assassin with terrible revenge.
unperceived by Tom Bryson, the
flame of the overturned candle had
tOuphpi q sin or @ dry @ ov,Do Il ox.-.4