Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1893-07-22
HIS OWN CHILD.
RETOLD FROM 1.-THE LAST SENTENCE, -
MAXwELL GRAY's LATEST NOVEL.

Judge Marlowc seemed to pale Il lit
tie when the case was called, but he
soon recovered himself, so the counsel
thought, and became completely alb
sorbed in the evidence that was being
given.
The case was that of a girl of TWEEN
ty, with soft gray eyes like the judges
own, and Il Countcnance that seemed
sincere and frank. But she was OF
trial for her life. The grand jury had
indicted her for infanticide. The evil
dence was exceedingly strong and moth
ing in rebuttal was offered. The story
was briefly this:
Cccile had been picked up from no.
body knew where, at the age of eleven.
1t seemed that she had been in a cir
Gus, but she had run away. Her his
tory before that was a blank. But now
an old couple had taken pity on her, in
her almost starving and quite deSpcr-
ate condition, md had given her a
home with themselves, where she had
been fairly faithful servant for some
years. -Four years later changes had
occurred, the death of the old gentle
man who had been to her father had
thrown his wife and Cecile on the
world without money or support, and
Cecile was found place as governess
in noble family, that of the Frank
Inns, where she had remained for three
years.
Now and then she had asked to go
to the old village where she had lived
so long to visit a friend, and permits
sion had readily been granted, though
1t was not known at the great house
that she had Il child there. One day
she went on this periodical visit as
usual, returning two days later. But
1t was afterwards discovered that she
had gone to her child, taken it from
the good woman who nursed it and
was seen making her way with it to-
wards thick wood, in which was a
shallow pond. She stopped as she
reached the edge of the copSe and sat
down on Il log to rest, and it was in
this position that Il passing woodcuttcr
saw her for Il moment. Two hours
later he saw her return without the
enid IN her arms, apparently weeping.
She Immediately went back to her
duties as governeSS, but in two days
she was arrested for the murder of her
child. The body of a child had been
found i'll the pond in that wood. On
the shore We're found marks of feet
rosary which We're known to have be-
longed to the unhappy girl She had
been seen going into that wood with
her child. she was seen returning with
out 1t. The body of Il child had been
found, and this crucitiX and rosary, the
sign OF the mothers presence at the
pond. What evidence could be more
conclusive? What escape was possi-
Die! And the worst of the case was
that the girl, though her evidence
could not be received in court, would
not even to her counsel make an eX-
planahon of her conduct, though she
stoutly denied having caused the death
OF ner child, and said the body found
must nave been the body of another
But where her own child was she re-
fused to say, or why she had taken il
to that wood.
Judge MarloWe was a man of fine
and delicately turned comtenance. with
large, peculiar eyes of gray, which were
1llled with soft, some said timid light.
In the present case it was clear that
he sympathized with the prisoner from
tle hrst, and the poor girls counsel,
seeing that he had the Judge on his
side, could not but hope that he might
secure her acquittal in some way.
though he hardly knew how, the eyi-
dence was so damning.
II.
Twenty years had now passed since
certain episode in the life of Judge
Marlowe that had been concealed from
all. even from his wife. When a Young
man of twenty he had gone to Brittany
to spend summers vacation. wearied
out with the work he had given him
SELF up to in preparation for his legal
cXamination-and, if truth must be
tod, a little love-Sick for girl who
had snubbed him. There for some
months he lived quietly, protesting to
be poor, struggling artist There he
had been loved by a peasant girl. who.
IN her devotion to him. had nurSed him
through fever. For his sake she had
sent away the rough fellow who had
heretofore been her suitor. Her kind
ness during the long hours of his fever
ish dellrlum had been the means of
bringing him back to life He remem-
bered his aristocratic home, the disap-
proval OF his parents, his own personal
regret in the future, but gratitude got
the better of him and he married the
poor girl, and child, a girl baby, was
born to them.
Then he had sent his child wife avay
10 De educated as became her rank, for
he was at heart kind and good and
meant to be just to her and to give
her his own home. He himself re-
turned after this long absence to his
father and mother, where he found
Cynthia.
If Cecil Marlowe had seen CYNTHIA
before he went to the Brittany coast
ne would not have married poor Renee
cynthia had heard much of him, for
he was the idol of the household, his
mothers pet and hope, and she had Il
1ar-aWay respect for him before she
had even seen him. Then when he
came he was tall and graceful, with
such fine eyes, like his mothers. such
an intelligent bearing and attitude to-
wards everybody and everything. such
tender way of speaking and acting
1t was indeed not strange that she
loved him. Yet he was cold, it seemed
to her; he was sad, and his thoughts
wandered now and then, and she won
dercd if he loved some other girl. 1t
all piqued her terribly, and she enticed
him on, determined not to be played
with herself without playing back. He
had meant to tell her of his wife. He
should do 1t some day, but the day
never came. He wished he was free,
he wished he could blot out that sim
pie country ceremony under the trees,
down there by the Brittany coast. He
loved Cynthia; she was such a woman
as his soul craved, she alone could be
to him a wife in very deed.
But he was bound to another! The