Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1892-12-08

WHICH,, IOnS ago. SIZE Hdu, perhaps,
fondly hoped to be rich.
with what fear and trembling does
she mount step by step; how cautiously,
when she has reached the topmOSt rung,
does she raise her head to look in. But
what is thIsl [ will tell you what she
sees. Though. faithful TO her noble
policy to the last. she will not speak in
her own defense, say that she sees"
(Here the prisoner started up in wild
excitement, and cried out, paSSiOnately
Il saw nothing-he can't know
never told him a wordI'1
She sees" resumed her counsel. who
had admirably maintained his force
during the interruption, mo happy
rival, but a woman in whose breast is
at that moment being plunged the knife
OF the assassin; and fOrgetful of danger
to herself, she forces her way through
the window to clutch the knife from
his hand, but he StabS at her violently:
then, when she has WreSted it from
him, he escapes, and she is left alone
with the proof of murder in her hand.
LAS she gaZes at the bleeding, mcon-
sciOuS victim, sudden sense of her
own awful danger assails her; she does
not pause to summon help, but hiding
the knife in her pocket, she forces her
self through the aperture of the Win
dow, leaving behind her the scrap of
torn clothing to which SO much import
ance has been attached.
Half craZed by the shock that the
gardeners unsupported presence at the
foot OF the ladder communicates to her:
appalled, by the hideous knowledge that
she carries III her breast: IN panic of
utterly unreaSOning tear, she rusheS
a u -nTlo Il he Il
ever before her-all that night and part
of the next day; penniIess. starving.
bounded from every house as a COM
mon vagrant. till on the second day
common sense returned to her.
She thought of her darling. and of
how lonely and wretched he must be
with none to sOOthe him in his loss.
and only hirelingS to guard him from
mischief; and painfully dragged herself
back to the Red Hall, only to find that
her idOliZed little lad lay at the point of
death, waited upon by Lord LOvel, who
had fOndly loved him.
81 have loved him best! she cried;
give him to me!' And at day reak the
child died in her arms, stretching out
his hands to her, and thinking she was
his mother. AS she sat, stony and
numbed. with the dead child across her
knees, Mr.. Eyre entered with the Off
GERS of the law, and babe them seize her
for the murder OF his wife.
when they dragged her away she
made no resistance; it was only her
body that they toOk-her heart remain
ed behind with the older image OF her
drowned child; nor even in that deSper-
ate moment, when face to face with her
accuser, did she upbraid or denounce
him. and in jail she would not answer
single question as to what passed on
the night OF the murder; his own in
structionS, as counsel for her defense.
being derived from other lips, since she
would not open her own to defend her
self"
"a curious expression, almost amount
ing to a grimace, was observed to fit
across Mr.. Eyre S features at this speech:
but Frank looked down, feeling as
though he had betrayed his friend)
And now | have to ask you it it is
probable that the accused, if guilty..
would have uttered cry to rouse the
whole household. and so bring it to
seize her red-handed? Or, having
escaped by hairs breadth, have boldly
returned two days later to the very scene
Of the murder, knowing that her flight
had attracted public attention?
That flight, the most damning proof
of all against her, was simply the effect
of panSc-the unreasOning, headlOng
panic, that will impel even strong
man TO run away from the sight of q
shocking deed-a panic from which.
once recovered, she made her way back
to the very spot that she would have
stunned, like the plague, had she been
guilty woman!
Il say that she did not commit the
murder; that the whole tenor of her life
and character-merciful and humane
f0rbidS the thought; but that her policy
throughout has been TO shield the real
murderer, one who is even here present
ID man who, in moment of mad jeal-
OuSy. against his friend, slew the woman
he loved, and then StrOYe to cast the
guilt on the woman who loved him. I
say, gentlemen of the jury, that l de-
mand the acquittal of this woman. on
the ground that the charge against her
IS not proved; and in her place, and in
the interests of justice, to place at the
bar the real murderer, who had mo-
tive fJr the crime that the prisoner had
not"
(Ihe Judge frowned; the jury, unused
to romance reading, CAPPED; the oppos-
ing counsel smiled; through the court a
rustic, as of a light wind among au-
tumn leaves, ran, and none looked at
the prisoner, who was struggling for
breath. and gazing at her advocate as if
she could have slain him, but at Mr..
Eyre, who was calm with the strength
in which there is no effort. the wild in
SlnuatlOn seeming to recOn on the
speaker, like wave dashed backward
from granite cliff. The next moment
HeSter'S champion had regained his
courage, and pressed onward before
there was time TO receive the reprimand
he eXpected.)
tit had been said that there was
motive for the crime, and this motive
bad been declared to be jealousy; and
Jhis was true enough. The murder had
0een committed through that ignoble
passion, but not by the prisoner.
1T would be necessary to remind the
jury of those facts that had long been
public talk-the ruptured engagement
Of the deceased lady with Lord Lovel,
her intimacy with him on his return,
her well-knOwn elopement with him
from the White House, and Mr.. Eyre'S
pursuit of the runaway couple, over
taking them before they had gone any
further than LOvel. He had, at the
time, affected to treat the matter as a
joke, and had bid Lord Lowell to his
house as usual; but it was observed by
many that great change was percep-
tible in him from that time, and he
even neglected those magisterial duties
that he had formerly fulfilled so ably,
to all appearance disliking to meet his
equals. Mr.. Eyre was very proud
man-or>a who made laws. was not
governed by them-ana IL was only
natural to suppose that, as time went
on, and he found his young wife less