Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1890-01-16

90 tnem Juhtce5 We leave tnem 70 bo I'M
agined.
Ralph Courtenay was conveyed to the
county jail at Chelmsford, whence, in q
few days, he was taken before magistrate
to be examined. Here he was repre-
sented by counsel; but so strong q case
was made out against him that he was
committed to Jail to await his trial at the
Essex Assizes, to be held at Chelmsford
the first of November.
Prosperity makes friends; adversely
tries them" Most strikingly did Captain
| Courtenay, standing now under an in
dictment for murder, have cause to verify
in his own experience this proverb.
The newspapers of that day-the -ga-
] zettes, as they were called-were few and
I scanty of news. But Captain Courtenay's
case was briefly herald BY them, far and
wide. The imperfect outline Of the af-
! fair given in them was usually summed
up with an unfayorable opinion as to the
accused. It was asserted that the officers
Of his regiment were not outspoken in the
avowal of his innocence.
And this was certainly true. Popular
among his set while fortune and pros
perity favored him, our hero was made to
feel with the utmost keenness the sting
Of ingratitude and weak friendship, now
that he most needed friends. A few of
the subalterns, who loved him for his
sterling worth, and steadily refused to
believe in the dreadful charge against
him, stood stanchly by him, visited him
in Jail, and gave him aid and comfort.
But the great majority of his brother
officers refused to see him, and stood
coldly aloof in this time, when mere SYM
pathy was golden.
A demnition awkward affair."" lisped
the Honorable Algernon Desmond, a
Lieutenant of the same regiment. "Cour-
tenay is q good fellow; but they may
hang him, you know; and how awkward
it would be to know a fellow that was
hung! And then, you know, if he is
hung, it will make another vacancy for
one of us subs. o, yes; bad easel"
The gazettes also stated that the excel
lent matrimonial prospects Of the accused
were summarily ended by this accusa-
ton, that his prospective father-in-law,
Sir RI Pc, had commanded that
the engagement be broken off, which
would doubtless be done.
1t was not done. And this record,
which tells of mans endurance and suf-
fering, must speak also of woman's fidel-
ity, and show how Blanche Pembroke
clung to the man she loved, though home
and friends-aye, and at last, as it
seemed, the whole world-rose up against
him.
The first of November was fast ap-
preaching; it was now the middle of
October. Blanche, pale and thin, but
bearing up heroically against her crush
ing sorrow, was one afternoon summoned
by her father to the library. She found
him there, and Isabel, cold and scornful.
My child, began the baronet, with q
kindness in his voice which he no doubt
felt, 1T has become necessary for us to
talk plainly to you about this distressing
affair of Captain Courtenay. Ihad hoped
that you would have seen, long ere this,
the propriety of sundering all relations
with him. But I have learned" and a
glance at Isabel showed the source Of his
information, that you are regularly ex-
changing letters with that mana man
under accusation of murder, in Chelms-
ford jail, and shortly to be tried for his
life. Is this true?"
Her eyes were downcast; she was coll
lecting strength for her trial, now before
her. But she bowed assent.
rs it indeed soP" exclaimed the baro-
net, sternly. Il command you to cease
| this disgraceful correspondence at once.
/ order you to stop all communication
with that man, instantly. Will you obey
me2"
She raised her eyes, and looked from
| sneering sister to passionate father.
He is my betrothed," she said. "He
has done nothing wrong. He could not
commit crime! I will cleave to him. .
Il believe him guilty, on what I have
heard, said Sir Roger, succeeding for the
moment in smothering his temper.
Whether he is or not, has nothing to do
with the treatment that you must give
him. / do not choose that the atfianced
| of my daughter shall be locked up in the
| public Jail, charged with crime. Just
that is disgra e whirh cannot tolerate.
/ command you to give him up"
Father, cannot!"
He looked at her: he almost quailed
before the indomitable spirit that famed
in her eyes.
| Isabel came behind him and placed a
hand on his shoulder.
1t grieves me to see you so rebellious,
| my child, continued the baronet @But
| you give me no choice. Our ancient
name shall not be sullied in this way,
with my consent. Give him up, or you
must leave this roof"
| Had the brave girl, in her own mind,
| put this terrible alternative before her
self weeks before? Had she deliberately
made her choice, schooling herself for
this cruel scene? So it must have been,
| else her decision could not have been
| made upon the instant.
Farewell, then, father!" she said. Il
shall think of you only with kindness.
Isabel, may Heaven pardon you for your
hard heart. Some day you will both re.
gret this hour"
She turned to leave the room.
/ "Stopl" cried the father, with agita.
tion. Where do you go2"
| To Chelmsford--to him."
| And there she went The stage took
her and her trunk to the county seat
that afternoon. At the turn of the road
she cast last look back upon the villa,
| the place of her birth, the beautiful home
| of her childhood and maidenhood. Tears
| filed her eyes at the thought, / shall
never look upon it again"
| All, sweet heroine! patient, courageous
one-you little knew the vast possibilities
| of the futurel
CHAPTER xL
i AT THE MOUTH OF THE PIT.
With distant relative Of her mother al
/ Chelmsford, benevolent Quakeress who
/ had lived almost alone for years, DOING
a - 4.