The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1890-01-24

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 moodily by the window, after
! supper, repulsing every attention of his
daughter, impatlently waiting for the
silent hours ofthe night, that he might
execute his purpose.
The hours passed slowly. Near ten
o'clock, Jessica took o candle to so to
her lonely room.
She hesitated, with her hand upon
the latch.
Did some premonition of the events
that uight hideous in her memory then
assall her? Do coming events thus cast
their shadows before2
Goodnight, father" she said.
Goodnight"
Five minutes later he looked up, and
saw her still standing there.
~ hat I'vn want m grip ha rrowled.
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 t. 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 1T
all over.
1t required an hour to do it; but it
was all save twenty five thousand dol
lars. He stuffed it back into the little
compartment, and relocked it.
| l0H
man down into the cellar, to look
around, and be sure that nothing ap-
peared thore that might betrsy him?
No man can know; not even the tor.
mented criminal himself could, have
told.
Iags az Y rs would lid tssms eolS az Then .as
secre'. He peered into every pook and
! corner of the cellar. He he q the can.
die down to the bare ground, and tc
the stones, as if he expected to see the
dead hand of Mason Belmont thrust
out.
He gave himself up to the deliriun Il,
that the scene and the hour wrought in
his BRAN.
at is mine, 1 say.-mine; rightfully
mine!" inc shriekel. The dead walls
of the cellar gave back the echoes.
He was my enemy; he ruined me
when he might have saved me. l had
my revenge; his treasure became mine.
It's only fraction o his wealth; wish
it was more. But had my revenge
and the money is ali mino!"
His hands gestured to suit the words,
and the candlest elk fell from his grasp.
With an oa'h he snatched it up sc
quickly that the flame was not extin-
qulshed. Then he hurried up to his
--,----<s,-shroufuR nrnsefr, dressed
as he was, upon his bed, soon fell
asleep.
10 those who are inclined to be su-
perstltious, it might almost seem as il
the hand of the murdered man had
been stretched forth from his unknown
grave in that cellar, to overwhelm his
assassin with terrible revenge.
Unperceived by Tom Bryson, the
flame of the overturned candle had
touched a single dry shaving. 1t crept
slowly thence, by several scraps of pa.
per and dry refuse, to heap of brok en-
boards. There was no draft to fan it
but feeding steadily upon the com,
bustib!e contents of the cellar, il
reached the ioists and the flooring
above. 1t seized upon the stairs, and
at last swept into the hall, consuming
the door like paper. A window was
shattered with the heat; the wind from
without blew and famed the fire; il
roared at last all through the lowe,
rooms, and tue heat and smoke as
cended to the upPer storys .s
Fhe Old 4<11s tinae and my stery