Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1889-10-11

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not enough, as if that were not excess of
sorrow, the cruelty Of fate had brought
the murderer to that house, had put his
hateful life IN her hands, had planned all
with such hideous cunning that she, the
bereaved daughter, had succored and
saved the man whom she should have
hated and destroyed
1t was horrible, most horrible!
She beheld the dying face uplifted in
the starlight, the feeble hands clinging
around the murderer; she heard the last
sad words, the piteOus message, given in
the voice she knew so we'll
And the murderer lay there-there on
her fathers bed, brought there by her
compassion, saved twice from a miserable
death by her ministering care.
She tOttered to the bedside again and
gaZed upon him, her hands clinched, her
face like marble. Her whole soul sickened
to behold him She Ionged to drag him
from that shelter and cast him forth into
the chilling snow.
Meantime the German had begun to
breathe more painfully. Half opening
and shutting his eyes, and moving his
head restlessly from side to side, he
seemed struggling with some sharp inter
nal pain. His right hand, lying upon the
cOVerlet, opened and shut cOnvulsively.
He murmured family, as if talking to him
self.
It was well for him that he was uncon-
scious, that he could not see the look still
frozen on the girls face-a look of concen-
trated cruelty and passion, horror and
pain!
Was he dying? Blanche asked herself.
Yes-GOd was good after all-he must be
dying.
Then his life was in her hands after
all. She had but to stand still, not
lifting a finger, and still avenge her
father. What she had done already she
had done in blindness; but it was not too
late to justify herself, to redeem the wick
edness Of having sheltered and succored
him!
She could hear the wind crying without.
Scarcely conscious of what she did, she
rose to her feet, and with cOnvulsive
hands threw open the window. The cold
blast rushed into the room, large fakes
of snow fOated in and glimmered in the
dim light
Clutching the window-siII, she leaned
out into the night
And the snow fell thickIy upon her
head, while the wind lOosened her golden
hair. Still with that stupefed, despair
ing look, she gazed out into the darkness.
A feeble cry, like a call for help, came
from the sick-room.
She started, but kept her place.
In a few moments the cry was rep Gated,
/ but still she did not stir.
/ She strained her eyes up at the dark
! heaven. Her father was there, some
! where beyond those troubled clouds. All!
/ that she might 60 TO him-that he could
/ beclkon to her out of the shadows of the
/ grave and call her to his side.
The cry came again.
! She turned from the open window and
staggered rather than walked back to the
! sick-chamber, pausing at the door like a
| ghost and gazing in.
The man had changed his position, and
with both his arms thrust up above his
! head was lying back without the pillow
| which had fallen to the floor. His mouth
was half-Open, his eyes looking straight
/ at Blanche.
She saw that he had partially recovered
consciousness, and recognized her. Was
it fancy, or did he call to her in a faint,
| low voice, entreatingly?
She stood like stone; then, taken by a
sudden thought, and fixing her eyes on
/ his, she raised the medallion, which still
lay in her hand. and kissed it.
He watched her, and seemed to under
stand; but the next moment his eyes
/ turned away in pain, and a cOnVulsiOn ran
| through his body. How lurid, how death
like his face appeared in the faint glim-
mer of the night-light!
The small timepiece in the adjoining
room struck one.
Nearly an hour had passed since she had
last administered the anodyne. Already
her vengeance had begun. He was sink
ing, and she had not put out hand.
All at once, as if by a heavenly inspira-
ton, she seemed to hear the voice of hel
father speaking to the ear that is in the
soul The voice was low and gentle, JUS
as it had always been, but it sounded like
warning. She knew the Chevalier'
deeply humane nature; she knew that he
of all creatures would have been the las
to approve an act of vengeance.
/ A., 81 OF # ~
murder-none the less murder because
the victim was a miserable sinner, guilty
of unnatural bloodshed. If she stood
by, with the power to save the life tina
was fast going, she was as responsible FOL
the loss of that life as if she had useC
knife or poison to destroy it. She would
have to answer for a sin before the Grea
Judge of quick and dead.
Then she thought of her God. She re-
membered the divine precept of her rs
igiOn, Love thy neighbOr as myself.
Alas! it was a mOckery. How could slit
> love the slayer Of her father? But Low
was one thing, and obedience to the com
\ mand of the Almighty was another.
The clock licked out the moments
J while she watched the agonized struggle
of the sinking man. In few minutes
,, would be too late-perhaps, indeed,
was too late already.
Tortured between hate and duty
Blanche now underwent the great trial 0
2 her life God in His mercy gave he
strength, and at last she conquered, Com
: what might, she felt that she could No
{ let the man perish without making an at
tempt to save him.
Father, forgive mel" she moaned, pite
ously, while now for the first time tn
. tears began to trickle down her cheeks
: Forgive me! I cannot let him die!"
. Moving quickly to the mantelpieee, sh
took the vial, and with a trembling han
measured out the fe-giving drops; theI
holding out the glass, she approached tn
bed And now, once again, the horrc
came upon her to think she must apprOac
s. so near and even touch the being sh
Q lOathed so much.