Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-10-12


about this when 1 write to you next"
While lying there, Ronald thought over
and over again about the evidence that had
been collected against George Forester,
and whether it should be published, as Mary
had proposed. 1t would, doubtless, be ac-
cepted by the world as proof of Forrester's 8
guilt and Of his own innocence, and even
the fact that the man, when dying. had de-
MED it, would weigh for very little with the
public, for men proved indisputably to be
guilty often 60 to the scaffold asserting
their innocence to the last But would it
be right to throw this crime upon the dead
man when he was sure that he was innocent?
For Ronald did not doubt for moment the
truth of the denial. Had he right, even
for the sake of Mary's happiness and his own,
to charge the memory Of the dead man with
the burden of this foul crime? Ronald
felt that it could not be. The temptation
was strong, but he fought long against it.
And at last his mind was made up.
'No," he said at last, II will not do it.
George Forester was no doubt q bad man,
but he was not so bad as this. 1t would be
worse to charge his memory with it than to
accuse him If he were alive. In the one
case he might clear himself; in the other he
cannot. cannot clear my name by fouling
that of the dead man."
And SO Ronald at last sat down to write a
long letter to Mary Armstrong, telling her
the whole circumstances; the joy with which
he received her news; his conversation with
George Forester, which seemed wholly to
confirm her views; the pang of agony he had
felt when he saw the man whom he believed
could alone clear him in the hands of the
Kafirs, and mis- desperate charge to rescue
him; and then he gave the words of the con-
fession, and expressed his absolute belief
that the diving man had spoken the truth,
and that he was really innocent of Margaret
Carne's murder.
He then discussed the question of still
publishing Ruth Powlett's statement, giving
first the cause of George Forrester's enmity
against Margaret Carne, and the threat that
he had uttered, and then the discovery ofthe
knife
81 fear that YOU will be ashamed of me,
Mary, when tell you that for a time al
most yielded to the temptation of clearing
myself at his expense. But you must make
allowance for the strength of the temptation;
on the one side was the thought of my
honor restored, and of YOU won; on the other
the thought that now George Forester was
dead, this could not harm him. But, of
course, I finally put the temptation aside;
honor purchased at the expense of dead
mans reputation would be dishonor indeed.
Now can face disgrace, because 1 know 1
am innocent. 1 could not face honor when
1 knew that 1 had done a dishonorable
action; and know that 1 should utterly for
felt your love and esteem did do so. I can
look you straight in the face now; 1 could
never look you straight in the
face then. Do not grieve too
much over the disappointment. We are
l. ~, + IL, a.
you. 1 had no hope then that YOU would
ever succeed in clearing me, and have no
hope now. have not got up nv strength
again yet, and 1 am therefore perhaps Just
at present little more disposed to repine
over the disappointment than thought 1
should be; but this will wear off when I get
in the saddle again. There will, 1 think, be
no more fghting-at any rate with the
Sandilli Kaffirs-Ior we hear this morning
that they have sent in to beg for peace, and I
am certain we shall be glad enough to grant
it, for we have not much to boast about in
the campaign. OF course they will have to
pay a very heavy fine in cattle, and will
have to move across to the other side of the
Kei. Equally of course there will be
trouble with them again after a time, when
the memory of their losses has somewhat
abated. fancy portion of the force will
march against the Basutos, whose attitude
has lately been very hostile; but now that
the Gaikas have given in, and we are free
to use our whole force against them, it is
scarcely probable that they will venture to
try conclusions with us. If they settle
down peaceably shall probably apply for
my discharge, and perhaps go in for iarm-
ing or carry out my first idea of joining a
party of traders going up the country, and
getting some shooting among the big game.
Il know that disappointed as you will be
with the news contained in this letter, it
will be pleasure to you to tell the girl
you have made your friend that after all the
man she once loved is innocent of this terri
BILE crime. She must have suffered horribly
while she was hiding what she thought was
the most important part of the evidence;
now she will see that she has really done no
harm; and as you seem to be really fond OF
her, it will, 1 am sure, be a great pleasure
to you to be able to restore her peace of
mind in both these respects. l should think
now that you and your father will not re-
main any longer at Carnesford, where
neither o. you have any fitting society of
any sort, but will go and settle somewhere
in your proper position. 1 would much
rather that you did, for now that it seems
absolutely certain that nothing further is to
you wasting your lives at Carnesford.
"You said in your last letter that the dis
covery you had made had brought you four
years nearer to happiness, but have never
said a word to admit that 1 should change
my mind at the end of the five years that
your father spoke of. Still, don't know,
Mary. think my position is stronger by a
great deal than it was six months ago. I
told my captain who 1 was, and all the
other officers now know. Most of them
came up and spoke very kindly to me be-
fore 1 started on my way down here, and 1
am sure that when I leave the corps they
will give me a testimonial, saying that they
are convinced from my behavior while in
the corps that could not have been guilty
of this crime. 1 own that I mysel: am less
sensitive on the subject than 1 was One
has no time to be morbid while leading such
a life as 1 have been for the last nine
months. Perhaps-but 1 will not say
anv more now. But / think some
how that at the end of the five years 1 shall
leave the decision In your hands. 1t has
taken me two or three days to write this let
ter. for 1 am not strong enough to stick to it
for more than half an hour at a time. but as
the post goes out this afternoon must close
it now. We have been expecting a mail
from England for some days. It is consid-
erably overdue, and need not say how 1
am longing for another letter from you. I
hear the regiment will be back from the
front tonight; even the horses want few
days rest before starting on this long march
to Basutoland., shall be very glad to see
them back again. OF course, the invalids
here, like myself, are somewhat pulled
down by their wounds, and disguised at
being kept here. The weather is frIghtfully
hot, and even in our shirt sleeves we shall
be hardly able to enjoy Christmas day."
The Cape Rifles arrived at King Will
iamstown an hour after the post had left,