The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-11-10

hutn nad gwen q little gasp as Mary
Armstrong began, then she sat rigid and
immovable.
1T was Capt. Mervyn," she said. at last,
in a low whisper.
Yes, Ruth. Sergt Blunt was Capt.
Mervyn; he had changed his name, and
gone out there to hide himself, but even
there had already been recognized; and, as
he said-for l pleaded hard, Ruth, to be
allowed to share his exile-go where he
would, bury himself in what out-of-the-
way corner he might, sooner or later some
one would know him, aud this story would
rise up against him, and, much as he loved
me-the more, perhaps, because he loved me
50 much, he would never suffer me TO be
pointed at as the wife of amurderer."
You shall not be-" Ruth said, more
firmly than she had before spoken. "You
shall not be, Mary. can clear him, and |
will.n
1t was Mary Armstrong; turn to break
down now the goal had been reached.
Ronald Mervyn would be cleared; and she
therew her arms round Ruth and burst
into passion of tears. 1t was some time
before the girls were sufficiently composed
to renew the conversation.
First, of all, must tell you, Mary
Ruth began, that you may not think me
more wicked that am. that would never
have let Capt. Mervyn suffer the penalty
Of another's crime. Against the wish, al
most in the face of the orders of the doc
tor, l remained in court sll through the
trial, holding in my hand the proof of Capt.
Mervyn's innocence, aud had the verdict
been guilty was ready to rush forward
and prove that he was innocent. do not
think that all that you suffered when you
were in the hands of the Kaffirs was worse
than suffered then. l saw before me the
uproar in court; the eyes that would be all
liked upon me; the way that the judge and
the counsel would blame me for having
so long kept silence; the reproach that l
should meet with when re-
turned home; the shame of my
dear old father; the way in which
every soul in the village would turn against
me; but l would have dared it all rather
than that one man should suffer for the sin
of another. And now, having told you
this first, so that you should not think too
hardly of me, l will tell you ALL"
Then Ruth told her of her girllsh love for
George Forester; how she had chung to
him through evil report, and in spite of the
wishes of her father and mother. but how
at last the incident of the affray with the
gamekeepers had opened her eyes to the fact
that he was altogether reckless and wild,
that she could never trust her happiness to
him. She told how Margaret Carne had
spoken to her about 1t, and how she had
promised that she would give him up; then
she told OF that meeting on the road on the
way to church; his passionate anger against
herself; the threats he had uttered against
Miss Carne for her interference, and the way
IN which he had assaulted her.
or firmly believe" Ruth said, che would
have murdered me had he not heard people
coming along the road.n
Then she told how she found the open
knife stained with blood at Margaret
Carne's bedside, and how she had hidden it.
II did not do it because l loved him still,
Mary" she said. "My love seemed to have
been killed. / had given him up before,
and the attack that he made upon me had
shown me clearly how violent he was. and
what an escape had had but had loved
him as boy, and it was the remembrance
of my girlish love, and not any love then
had, that sealed my lips; but even this
would not have silenced me, l Think had it
not been for the sake of his father. The old
man had always been very, very kind to
me, and the disgrace of his son being found
guilty of this crime would have killed him.
can say, honestly. that it was this that
chiefly made me determined to shield him.
As to Capt Mervyn, was, as told you,
determined that though 1 would keep silent
if he were acquitted, would save him if he
were found guilty. never thought for q
moment that acquittal would not clear him.
1t seemed to me that the trouble that had
fallen on him was thoroughly deserved for
che way in which he had spoken to Miss
Carne; but thought when he was acquitted
he would take his place in his regiment
again, and be none the worse for what had
happened. 1t was only when found that
he had left the regiment, and when Mrs.
Mervyn and her daughter shut up the house
and went to live far away, that began to
trouble much. Then when two or three
months later the news came that Mrs. Mer-
vyn was very ill, I fretted more and more.
1 saw now how wicked had been, though
l would never quite own it even to myself.
1 would have told then, but l did not know
who TO tell to, or what good it could do if
told. Mr.. Forester was dead now, and the
truth could not hurt him. George For
roster had gone away and would never come
back. You know they found a verdict of
willful murder against him for killing the
keeper. Somehow it seemed too late either
to do good or harm. Everyone had gone
Why should l say anything and bring grief
and trouble on my father and mother, and
make the whole valley despise me? 1t has
been dreadful" she said, wanly. You
cannot tell how dreadful. Ever since you
came here and tried to make friend of me,
l have been fighting battle with myself
It was not right that you should like melt
was not right that anyone should like me-
and l felt at last that l must tell you; you
first and then everyone. NOW after what
you have told me 1t will not be SO hard. or
course / shall suffer and my father will
suffer; but it will do good and make you
and Capt. Mervyn happy for the truth to be
known, and SO | shall be able to brave It all
much better than l should otherwise have
done. Who shall go to firstan
81 cannot tell you, Ruth. l must speak
to my father and he will think it over, and
perhaps he will write and ask Ronald how
he would like it done. There Is no great
hurry, for he cannot come home anyhow
till the war is finished, and it may last for
months yet"
"Well, am ready to go anywhere and TO
tell everyone whom you like" Ruth said.
"Do not look SO pitiful, Mary. am sure 1
shall be much happier whatever happens,
even if they put me in prison, now that
1 have made up my mind to do what is
right"
E'There is no fear of that, think, Ruth.
They never asked you whether you had
found anything. and though you certainly
hid the truth, you did not absolutely give
false evidence"
'It was ell wrong and wicked.n Ruth
said, "and it will be quite right if they pun
ish me but that would be nothing after
what l have suffered lately. / should feel
happier in prison with this weight off my
mind. But can you forgive me, Mary?
Can you forgive me causing such misery
to Capt. Mervyn and such unhappiness to
your
"You need not be afraid about that