The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1893-12-09
XVII.

While Hyaclnth Nane suffered III pT1S-
on, a long agony began for Alan Brans-
ton. He was as sure of her innocence
as he was Of the truth Of heaven. but
he was quite powerless, he could do
nothing: and the time was drawing
near when the last and most terrible
act Of the tragedy was to take place.
He left no stone unturned: but what
could he do? He went to Dene Hall,
and sifted all the evidence over and
over again. 1t was of no use; nothing
spent whole days in trying to obtain
a farewell interview with her, but he
could not obtain it.
There were times when his misery
almost maddened him, when he blamed
himself wildly for his folly, when he
cried out that his w weakness had
cut short two fair lives, when lie would
have given his hearts blood to have
undone what he had done.
One morning, two days before the
day for the execution, there came to
him a note, written in a quaint, tremb-
ling hand, headed from Mary Street,
Leicester Square, and signed Andrea
FieSchi'-a note from a dying man,
who begged of him to go without loss
of time and see him ON a matter of life
and death.
Alan was there before three hours
had passed, and, on inquiring, was told
that the Italian gentleman who was &C.
cupyipg the drawing rooms, was sup
posed to be dying; he had met with
an accident some months before, the
landlady said, and had never been we'll
afterward.
"Go to him." cried Alan, eagerly, land
tell him that the gentleman to whom
he wrote-Alan Branston. of Elms-
thorpe Grange-is waiting to see him.
In a few minutes he stood by the
bedside Of the dying mana handsome
man, and evidently a patrician-who
looked into his face with dim, wistful
eyes,.
You are Alan BraEston" he interro-
gated; and the answer was a quick,
almost impatient, YES"
you loved and wished to marry Hya-
cinth Vane, nov in prison for the-the
murder of Gertrude Fraser?"
YES" said Alan; and the dim eyes
looked more. keenly at him.
You have suffered" remarked the
stranger. II see lines on your face,
white threads in your hair. 1 have seen
signs of anguish and woe that have
AO 1851 uANu Ao SCSSdl1Ols i
should not tell you my secret now,
but that I know I am going to die,
and the telling of it cannot hurt me,
while it may save her. Send for a
magistrate and what other witnesses
you desire; l will tell you my story
once, and all may hear it,"
. II =
Alan Branston, Mr.. Barton, n of
| thu Eoopoct T nnHon m or;s+ro+ roc, AVID
Alton Chevril, one of the barristers who
had done his best in defending Hya-
cinth, were all assembled in the dying
mans room. He looked at them with
steady eyes and a calm face; he hest
tated one-haf minute, while Alan's
heart beat so strongly with excitement
and suspense that it seemed to him
every n must hear it.
Il am perhaps quixotic in what /
am doing" said Count Fieschi; ''but
my doctors say that T shall die be-
fore forty-eight hours are over my
head, and / may as well save that
young girls life, If I can. I have done
many bad actions, and a few good
ones. l have cheated the law and
the scaffold. I may tell you that
murdered Lady Fraser-let7me add also
that, it ever a woman on earth justly
deserved her fate, she did; that, il
the time and the opportunity came
again, I would repeat the deed. Nc
weak, sickly thought of repentance has
urged me to confess all this. 1 am dy
Ing. and that young girl may live"
| Mr.. Barton caught Alan Branston
as his tall. strong figure swayed to and
fro; the wonderful strength that hal
upheld him SO long gave way nov
that there was a glimmer of hone
Count Fieschi smiled a slow, satirica
smile.
Give him some brandy" he said. .
know what it is. / once loved a woman
like that, and she deceived me. lie
him listen to. me; tell him time i
short"
Time Is short whispered Mr. Bar
ton in Alan's ear; "every moment i
worth gold, and we have SO much t
de-
The words were magical in their Ell
feet; Alan stood up again, and again til
count smiled.
II understand 1T" he said. II love,
a woman just 10 much as that once
Who teaches women? Not heaven,
u am sure-there 4 no art 50 cruel bu