Lewiston teller. [volume] (Lewiston, North Idaho) 1878-1900, 1891-11-05

Every word of that accursed paragraph
seemed like blow falling upon my head
For some minutes sat as one stunned.
felt my teeth chattering. knew that my
check was blanched. Philippa's fanciiui
dread had come to pass? Another-an lh'
nocent man-was bearing the blame OF iief
own mad act! Dszed, stupid, scarcely apie
to comprehend what must be the full enect
Of what had Just read, l sat motlonless'
with my eyes fixed upon that fatal sheet.
The sound Of my mothers pleasant voice
calling to Philippa at last awoke me rom
my stupor. They we're coming. l couid
not face them. l doubled up the newspa-
per, thrust it into my pocket, and rushed
out into the street. As yet had not dared
to imagine what this intelligence might
mean to us. must have long hours OF soil
tude, in order to decide what course should
be adopted to face this, the last, the worst
peril.
Iplssed swiftly through the iron gate.
went up the narrow street at a pace which
must have made all who saw me think me
mad. Whittier did 60? Iscarcely remem-
Der. think It must have been to one OF
the public gardens but in that hour all sense
of locality left Inc. went insttnctively In
search of solitude. found, know not how
or where, some shady deserted spot. There,
in the anguish of my heart, amid the wreck
of my sand-founded happiness, threw my
self OH the ground, and dug my finger-nails
into the dry soil.
At first thought was going or had gone
mad. The thoughts which rushed through
my mind were disjoined, and wanted coher-
ence. An innocent man accused of the
RI, h, frio1 hn <vrn
twentieth! and now 1t is the sixteenth
Fresh evidence forthcoming! The fools
the utter fools! This the boosted detective
skill! To arrest on suspicion, to bring to
trial a man who must be ignorant OF every
thing connected with the murder! What
can be done? Oh, my wife! my poor darling
wifei
Then, believe, cried like child. 1t
seemed to me that all was lost. There was
but one thing to be done-One course to be
taken. My darling must give herself up to
justice, and by her confession free this luck
less wretch who now stands in peril Of his
life. She must bear the shame of the trial,
and trust to human justice and the mercy
which she had a right to expect. Oh, it was
pitful, pitiful! For long while no alter
native course suggested itself to me.
Human justice! What is justice? See
how it can err. 1t can arrest, try, and-oh,
horrible thought !-perhaps condemn to
death an innocent man! How then would
it fare with Philippa? Who, now that mar.
riage has sealed my lips, was there to prove
her madness when she slew that man?
ragged at the thought. 1t seemed to me that
we were hard and fast in the tolls. might,
it is true, call William, my servant, to swear
that her manner was strange and wild upon
that night. might call the nurses to prove
that when first they saw her she was recov
erng from an attack of mania. But would
they be credited? Would not clever law
ger soon convince twelve ordinary men that
it was not her madness which prompted the
crime. but the crime which produced the
madness? We were indeed meshed and
bound; hemmed in on every side; helpless
and, it seemed, hopeless.
TO BE CONTINUED.