Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-05-08

got sick-to-tell-her- so she would carry it out sure, but-you'll- tell-her-won't youP"
 "Yes," said the policeman, a little tremulously.
 Then the sick man stared hard at the face above him again, as if nursing his confused senses, and went on brokenly and h;eathing hard: 'I-ain't -got-far to go; I-guess- e's-gone; but can't go without tellin' some one; m-and-me-done- he-dene- the-killin', but L-mGde-the-ptan" Then he stopped, and with wild eyes tried to get up, but fell back and strug- gled for breath. John Earling strained forward with beads of sweat upon his brow, and the policeman, sitting on the pallets edge with lantern in one hand and with his other big purple paw grasping the sick mans arm, | gasped out: ''Snags and sandbars, but this is riley!" and stared nervously at | the wild, withered face before him. It was some moments ere the sick mans eyes again gathered any intel ligent light, and then their power of sight seemed much as if it were re- | versed and saw within rather than without then suddenly he cried, wildly:
 "I loUed hts wife ELIZABETH" then lay painting and glaring, "and I hated htn,! Oh! I-loved-her,-but 1 -she-never-kn it; I-was-in- sane-then,-m be was-always- insane;-and I loved her; I thought may be if he was-dead-l-could-get 1 her; but-it-killed-her-too!' and the withered head rolled to and fro upon the hard thin pillow and moaned.
 "I- was-a-long time,-1-don't- know-how done it now,-a getting Prine-into-it; he was young and kept my accounts then,-he-changed -his-name e-to-Fowler- he went West to keep track-of-the- child; he - done the - killin' - and took the money, and-I-kept the deed \ to the place; but-when-She died ! and-was-buried- d-in-the-ground I never stepped on it afterwards without fear; -me-and-pursued me always - everywhere - every where-night and day-summer and winter always everywhere - every where; then Fowler wrote me to
 Brazil was-it- Brazil? I-don't i-know-now,-he wrote me the hild-had-died-may be it did
 and may be he lied to
 keep me from comin' back and givin'
 the land to-the-child- and-tellin' , I-but-I- couldn't come back,-I
 never quit goin' and goin' and trying
 to-get-away-from-her! But after while got poor-then--old- sick then well-then sick again-sick al-
 ways-alwsys-then I set out to walk
 here-I guess from Mexico,
 wanted - to- tell her-my niece
 Uhy. and bring her the will. have a
 sistsr-I used to have-named Bower
 1 think-who lives out where they took
 the child-somewhere out Vest
 don't-know-where-now-I ought
 "a went there and seen if Fowler lied I-but-I-couldn't- was afraid to;
 I've always been afraid-always-al-
 ways,-I left the land to my niece
 Celeste-Celeste Bright's her name,
 think-because heard she was an or.
 phan-and-I-thought-may be-her t-heart- would-be soft from her
 and-she would be-sure t-to- do-good with the land,-
 the land. -where-the-
 land-is? It-it"-then he got trem.
 blingly upon his elbow again and peered slowly around the cell, the
 frightened policeman starting back
 from the awful face and feverous
 breath.
 Again and again the vague, glassy
 eyes went slowly around the room
 stopping a moment each ti1no as they
 crossed the strained white face of tho
 young man leaning toward them. "1t- ain 't-it-aln't-herew whispered tho
 he ghastly lips, ve-been-dreamin
 again; ht-I-had-come-
 back-but-b butts Mexico! this mus
 be the little black room at GonZelack'' in the mountains-where-Tve-beeI I-sick so long-there' his face foatin in the shadows, and over-there-is- hers-and there's his again! He neve -quite-so-still-as that before ! It's so hot here in Mexico-Oh! wisl I could get out on the mountain-sid and sit by a spring under the trees
 and-drink water - -a-bis -leaf-again! Oh! I'm-so-dry! m, . -tongue-ls-all - covered - with ] dust! suffered-so- sui fered-so! Won't-Gonzelack-ever- come-with-tbe - water?' and tn ghastly figure began to writhe am ! struggle to get up. The big policeman shook like leaf and tried to hold hin down, but the clammy fingers clutehe' his, the staring eyes were in his face l and with a yell of terror the pictur
 
 loose, leaped through the door an was gone.
 John Earling, to whom the hour, tn fmoment, the language, the scene. wer vivid as lightning, binding him a times, leaped up and caught the wilt 8 figure and pressed it slowly back upol the pillow. For a moment he held tn e sick man there, gazing into the deler 1 ous face, and even in his dark agony r feeling the mans pulse huttering feebl against the inside of his hands wher
 he grasped the thin, hot wrists. Ther lay the man beneath him who ha = caused his fathers death, who ha }! loved his mother and had opened tn = grave to her, and who, O God! was C 2 the same blood as that which mad ;; music in the veins of her who ha e Icrowned his spirit with Iife's choices n tflower! He had not heard the name
 yet if It had been pealed into the eel
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