The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-02-21

siSh WHY SCLIlI, DaU you VIII DtlltSe
that whatever l may do it will be best
for vou.n
Eyes, Philip, she answered, touching
her lips to his hand, Il know l can
leave all in your keeping"
CHAPTER XIX.
THE TRIAL OF ARNOLD MURRAY.
There was an immense excitement
over the trial of Arnold Murray for the
murder of Walter st. John, not SO much,
indeed, because the murdered man had
been so closely connected with the fam
GUS Merdteur, that had but a secondary
place in the public mind, but because
this trial would of necessity include the
clearing up of that mystery which hung
over the Meratemr's private life, and
must have the effect either of restoring
or for eve blasting his wife's fair
name.
So that when the trial came on, there
was not standing room to be found in
the court, and a dense crowd spread be-
yond the doors, eager to catch a word
OF news passed from those within.
The bench was filled with members,
professions, but with those belonging
to the ''polite world" conspicuous
among whom were Lord and Lady
Chestnut.
But it was not On these that the pub
lie eye rested increasingly, but on the
chief actors in this strange drama-on
tue erect form and un%revealing face of
Phllp st. John, yet more on the slender
glrlish wife who had waded through a
sea of suffering, whose reputation hung
IN the balance, and whose Wcndrous
pathetic beauty touched the hearts of
the feast impressionable there, though
Nat Poynter anne in for q share of the
criticisms.
There was a stir as Arnold Murray
took his place in the dock, leaning
heavily against the rails, and looking
neither to the right or left.
Philips eyes rested on him a moment
cold, clear, like hard steel.
There was neither flash of passion,
nor CLEAN of pity, in that glance, and
then he turned to answer some remark
made to him.
AS for Erica, she never moved nor
gave sign that she knew the prisoner
had entered; her eyes were dropping,
hidden by the long lashes, and she
never raised them once.
Perhaps she feared for her OWL power
If she suffered her eyes to dwell on Ar
mold Murray in that felon's dock.
There was a breathless silence during
the formal question and low-uttered
Not guilty"o OF The prisoner, during the
opening speech of the attorney-general,
and while the landlord of the Crown at
hington and two others were examined
to establish the identity of the prisoner
with the Stephen Martin who had
stayed at that hotel: but there was IL
visible stir when Nat POINTER was
called. He recounted all the story of
that night in the most simple and
straightforward manner, and was not
cited q laugh by his mode of speaking
of Erica-always "Miss Erica-least,
ways Mrs. st. john" and occasionally
Missy"
Those who had been observing the
prisoner during the last ten minutes of
Poynter's examination, and of these
was Philip st. John, had seen him lift
himself from his leaning posture and
look round for the first time with just a
fleetlng glance, growing more steady as
he seemed to gather courage; then that
his eyes went straight to where Erica
stood, a statue carved in whitest mar
BILE, with that look of rigidly-enforced
endurance on the young, fair face that,
after his fashion, he loved.
lie knew that it was not her fault
that lie was, here, and that something
good which is left lying at The bottom
of all but the utterly hardened was
moved for her.
All this crowd of gaping sightseers
were gloating over the prospect of her
evidence, were waiting impatiently for
her to be called, that they might note
now she looked, and when her voice
faltered, and when her color came or
went, and q sudden gush Of .remorse
came over the miserable iiiart who had
1t might be that this new impulse was
not born only of remorse and pity for
her-there is much that breaks down
fierce feeling in the fact of a shattered
physique.
He had no hope of winning; he was
not quite base enough to set up a de-
fenco that should blast his Cousins
honor;- and then. she had suffered 80
much for him, that he might as well do
what he could for her. And he had a
savage delight in disappointing that
eager crowd. They should not feed
their morbid curiosity on the torture of
his cousin.
And not giving himself time for any
more. he whispered to his counsel, who
was Observed to start slightly, aud then,
just as the counsel for the prosecution
was Saying, ri must. how call" and
expectation was at its height. he rose
up, and addressed the judge.
Arnold glanced round with a half
contemptuous smile. and then put one
elenched the handrail with the other,
bick how and cold when the moment
was come.
But, hush! what is his counsel saying.
Every ear is bent to listen; and Philip
leans a little forward and draws in his
breath, and swift his glance goes to
Erica-moved at last, but only a little
%outwardly; her hands are locked, and
her eyes are lifted, looking straight at
the prisoner.
His counsel is asking that the case
may be stopped, for that his client
wishes to plead guilty to the manslaugh-
ter of Walter st. John, and to make full
confession Of his guilt, and begs his
lordship to hear him, as the name and
honor Of others are bound up in what
he has to say.
There is an instant's absolute hush.
Every eye is turned to the prisoner-the
central figure in this scene-once voice
CAlcs ouG lIOll Ule DdCks JoIdNO! anu
is hushed down by the usher; then
there is a murmur, a fresh attitude of
anticipation, and again deathly silence,
while the judge confers a moment with
counsel and then speaks. And as he
does so Philip comes round quietly to
Erica's side and stands there. He is
anxious, terribly anxious for her; for
he thinks Of the 'tafterwards,o when
the strain shall have passed.
And then Arnold lifts his head, and
a mist comes before his eyes. He
knows they are all waiting for him to
speak; listening for the words; won
derlng how he will put them; whether
he is breaking down at the last. His
lips are parched and dry, and when he
tries to speak no sound issues from
them.
aWater-water!n he whispers.
Anfa wave ot'pity goes through the