Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-04-30
CHAPTER Xix.

He was safe behind the thick stone
wall-the still book-kecper-and the
thousand hands that burned to rend his
flesh and soul apart were powerless.
But he reeled about with his fingers
pressed hard upon the veins of his thin
neck. and gasped for breath, until the
crowd had melted away toward the
river; then he sat down with his blood
shot eyes upon the floor and was dumb.
What he had suffered, what black
plague had eaten his heart raw to the
touch of passion, how villianously
mixed were the ingredients of his nat
ure, or what mingled fire and darkness
had swept over him with torture and
delusion, or yet how far in the eyes of
God-weIghing his guilt against the
unseen forces that begot it-he was
blamable, can never be wholly known
this side of Heaven.
Joel was shocked beyond language,
and refused to believe in his guilt, as
did Mrs. Whitney, and indeed half of
Openstone. But out by the river the
inquest went on, and the prisoner was
held for examination; there again,
when examined before a justice, he
was held for trial at the regular term
of court.
All day long, without thought of
food or rest, John EARRING watched
and guided, trying to satisfy himself in
the sight of Heaven if this man were
guilty or no. 1t was the first time in
his life that he had taken steps to
fasten crime upon a fellowman, and
then, and ever after, he could not and
would not proceed without the finest
scrutiny of the entire field, lest in
prosecution or defense he might COM
NIT a wrong scarcely inferior to the
| first
That night the town babbled with
dark words and prophcsyings of the
| prisoners ultimate escape. Joel pro-
| vided bail for his unfortunate employee,
but the cringing, miserable man would
not submit his life to the street, and
guards were placed about the Jail.
Out where the town met the prairie
to the north the old lawyers house
stood under the signing trees with a
darkness deeper than the night infold-
ing it. In the dim parlor where Maun
had often moved so airily she now lay
| still with bloodless face and draped in
white. Mrs. Bower, Celeste, and other
women with plying hearts, had ar
rayed her so, and Celeste had wept
above her, putting white flowers in her
wax-like, helpless hands and DARK, damp
hair that she might seem beautiful ia
him who, she thought, had loved the
murdered maiden. should he come.
Late at night, after long consulta.
ton with Judge Bower and the State S
Attorney, John Earring came YEARLY
and with an unspeakably dark heart in
ut the old lawyers door. Mrs. Bower
received him and led him in where the
still sleeper lay. and Celeste. who had
been sitting by her, at sound of his
footsteps went into the adjoining room
where other watchers sat and closed
the door. For long time he stood by
the dead girl, gazing, plying. al
most wondering, at her awful white
ness, her utter silence. her bottomles:
sleep. That which had charmed hin
was not there, the life that gave
her beauteous motion had beer
checked and turned aside into a regior
where his eyes could never follow. Il
it possible to love a single human at
tribute alone and yet not draw its pos
SCISSOR wholly into the hearth Perhap.
it was so with him, but he did no
think of it. He was plying her, anC
mingling his pity with an angry sor
row that was speechless before the awful
, irreparable wrong that had been done
TO her. There she lay, stained, anC
cut off in the fine bloom of innocen
girlhood; torn out of the world
wrenched away from home ant
father, spoiled. of her name, breath
sight, life, and all that had ever beer
or might be dear and sweet to con
seriousness, for whatp Through whom
30 she did not knowi She had nj
mother, and they never told her
they never told ker!" he moaneC
and started from the room
not seeming to know that Mrs. Bower
was there. She followed him softl,
. out upon the porch and laid her hant
I upon his arm. ''Her father wanted II
see you if you came" she said. y
He turned upon her with angry
tear-suffnsed ewes and looked at her