The morning news., 1891-12-02
THE WRATH OF A SIN.
,cor,o,ost 1s9i. by the United Pres,, !,

,avar for moment De5n suspected OF the
murder and Merton's son, a youth OF pure
mind and clean habits, had been adjudged
ouilsy aud hanged on circumstantiaI evil
6snoe. True a rumor had besn whispered
about that was seen with Henry Merton
an the evening Of the night he died, but &c
was easy for me to prove the folly Of suoh
sHory. In the witness box had testified
that Merton's son had quarreled with his
father; that his step-mother, then in poor
bealth in Europe. had been the cause of the
ruptures, and that had overheard the son
threatening the father on the very day pre-
cadiu1 the murder. Even now | can see
the hopeless eyes that young Merton turned
upon me while l unblushIngly implicated
him. Then be bad said hesitatingly TO his
counsel:
"WilI the witness take oath that what he
has said Is trueF
And with one hand resting on the holy
book, and the other raised to heaven, / had
sworn before God that the damnable lies
that I had uttered were the sacred truth. 1
went to the execution, too; prayed with the
Door boy and comforted him in his last mo-
nents. And, after all was over, his
step-mouher, whom i had never met.
being still In Europe. 1 saw to it
that the remains were properly
inferred, and all the thousand and one de-
tails involved, promptly and rightly ar
ranged. Merton's will, when read, was
found to appoint me sole executor TO ad-
minister his estate, and provide for the
welfare of his sick widow and her infanu
daughter. The estate was q considerable
one, and my income as executor 80 large
that l closed out my other business interests
at once, and devoted myself 10 my new
care, selling my modest cottage in
the suburbs and taking up my abode In
the now deserted house of nv former
partner. selected for my sleeping apart
ment the finest room in the building-the
one Merton had occupied and the one in
which l had murdered him. Sometimes,
waking in the night, would half imagine
that heard again the stihed cry, the COM
vulsive gasp and the dying moan that he
had uttered whea l choked him to death
because he had refused to loan me the
matter OF $1,000 to pay of gambling
Eeht OF mine which sorelg pressed me- And
then / would shake of the black memory
as II it were but passing fancy, and dream
on in the luxury Of the present. One spring
day, when three years had melowed the
shadows of the past and lightened the
burden Of my soul with sweet forgetfulness.
letter came from Mrs. Merton saying that
har health had improved insomuch
that she and her child had secured
kASoo6O w 4NO" AOA1a Auu 4 A4Ahub e4DoCL
their arrival Within a few days after re-
ceipt Of the letbcr. l Immediately made all
necessary preparations for their reception
and, having 6scertaiDed by what steamer
they were to come, met them myself at the
wharf Mrs. Merton. whose photographs
/ had seen, proved far more beauti-
full than l had anticipated, and
her clear complexion. fapltiess figure.
deep blue eyes and soft golden hair were
reflected more exactly In her little daughter
than In all her pictured hkenesses.
escorted Mrs. Merton to the house and she
again occupied the room which had been
hers before her European sojourn, and after
a week had passed, l explained to her, as
seemed to me proper, that the mistress of
the house having returned. l would with
draw aud leave her in undisturbed posses.
sion Of the place. In answer to my re-
marks, however. the lady eyed me calmly
and coldly for full minute and said:
II would prefer that you remain here
Mr.. Morley; it may be more expedient that
you should.n
"But, AIRS. Merton-Jn protested.
''It Is my wish, she Interrupted, emphat.
icelly. "Do you respect its'
bowed and left tho room. Her cool,
determined manner had in it that which
made my soul finch. and for moment fear
took hold upon me and muttered: "Can she
knowg"
But why should fears 1 put away the
haunting terror and, complying with the
widows command, continued to call her
home mine also. was bachelor, middle
aged, wealthy; she woman of many and
peculiar graces From the very first day
We met 1t seemed that her beauty was
weaving net about me. snare to drag
me to my doom, and rather had l been
pulled through thousand cruel torments
than resist for an instant the spell of her
subtle charms. Within month after our
first meeting we were betrothed, but were
not to be married for several more months,
and this, as Mrs. Merton said, was expe-
dent
About this time the little daughter of my
former partner, now girl of years,
returned from visiting some relatives to
whose house she had gone Immediately after
her arrival from Europe. The child was
we'll and happy, but what change had
taken place since 1 first saw herr Then l
had remarked as her principal characters
tic her wonderful resemblance to her
mother. Now, however. all this was gone,
and in its place, months
time had developed In the girls face
singular Likeness 20 her dead
father. The strange phenomenon seemed
TO douoly endear the child to her mother,
and at the same time It filed me with
oltterness of hatred which l had never
huOWn Defore. L became conscious or o
yearning desire to kill the little one, aud
hnelly the sight of her face grew so distaste-
fnl to me that / loathed the very mention
OF her name, and dreaded continually that
my feeling should break beyond control
and should-oh. the horror of my own
thoughts Then gradually my alb
horrence Of the child changed to
an abJect fear, q terror l hardly
dared admit to myself. And. what
was worse, the little one took passionate
fancy to me, delighted TO be near me, to
tax with me, and indulge in a hundred
loving tendernesses which wrung my soul
as no hell-iend could have done, and sunk all
my better emotions in an agony of loathsome
despair. Her mother, / Thought, en-
outraged the child's attentions, and, indeed,
while this seemed only natural, there was
enat In the mothers encouragement,
as In the child's. devotion, which
forced itself upon me as the echo
OF my crime. the wrath of my
sln A week passed and day by day. from
orooeing on the thing, in terror and re-
morse, came to the belief that my mind
was weakening, my reason giving way, un-
uer such strain as mortars conscience never
knew before. and, Godgrant it, may never
snow again. One morning as | fingered
over breakfast rather later than usual,
ten into one Of the blackest moods that had
vone !. upon me at any time. What induced
~ 40 not know-perhaps q little undue
revelry the night before, may be promo
nlIion OF what wes to come, but it
matters not. From pondering on
tne darkness and tho shadow