Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1894-07-15

man than a sane person. IL mean 10
hang your son with it,.
Mr.. Vane staggered, his kindly oiu
face petrified with horror.
Every penny l mean to devote TO
that purpose, IL necessary" proceeoeu
Captain Willmott. 1.-THE blood OF my
murdered son cries aloud for vengeance:
A life for a life-that is the Scrlpturai
rendering. tits just. l mean TO Mag
your son, and you shall provide Inc
money"
"Oh, Willmott!" said the old man.
ieeby. :.
"On, you may SWIVEL, sir. That won't
stop me. Would you have murderer
20 free9 He shall hang, say; he snail
hang. And you shall be the instruments
OF justice. Then 1 shall be satlsneo-
as we'll satisfied as can be now that my
son is killed"
But my son did not kill him." said
Mr.. Vane. He withdrew his hand from
the gatepost and stood erect. my
heart is grieved for you, my poor ola
friend. 1 know that your trouble Is
hard to bear; but don't-oh, don't-let
1t make you unjust to others. My son
IS as innocent as you are.
al won't hear you," rosred Captain
Willmott. "Ihave done with you
Let the money be sent 10 my house.
Do you hear?" And he turned ana
strobe away.
Mr.. Vans, passing his hand to aud FRO
across his forehead, stood looking after
that tall, military figure rapidly disap.
pearing in the dusk. He seemed hall
inclined 10 go on in pursuit, but rust
ling among the shrubs behind made
him turn sharply, and between couple
Of laures he saw the white, scared race
Of bis son.
"You, Gsorge!" exclaimed the startled
father.
The lad came forward slowly.
IL could not help overhearing," he
said awkwardIy. II was in there, and
every word reached me-he spoke so
loudly-and 1 am so sorry for you
father"
Tears started into the old mans eyes,
and he had to struggle with his voice
before he could speak.
He did not know what he was say
ing, George" said be, taking the lads
hand. HE has lost his son, and Is
grieved and angry. Think how
should feel il were to lose you, my
boy. We must make allowance Tor
him. II was all unmeaning talk, OF
coursa-the wild talk Of desolate man.
He has frightened you, has he?"
at is the money" said George, with
a sort OF sob. "You spoke OF selling
the house-of selling Cushla6eg. That
would be dreadful. You and mother
could not bear TO leave the old place.
IL would break your hearts. And 1t
will be- all my fault-and l can do moth
ing"
"Come, George, that is nonsense"
said his father gently. You have had
no hand in it. told you Captain Will
mott did not know what be was say
ing"
but II I hadn't been in passion
that day be would never have said the
things he says now. He wouldn't have
come storming here. He wouldn't have
wanted the money. On, yes, 1t is all
my doing"
al daresay We shall manage to get the
money in some other way"
"Can you, fatheE?" But the light
that had flashed into his eyes died out
again when he looked into his fathers
face, aud he added dismally: You
only say that for M sake. You don't
really know Of any other way, do you?'
"Weu," said Mr.. Vane, looking
around as II in search of something,
"perhsps in the morning, when poor
Captain Willmott RECEIVERS his senses, he
won't want the money so soon."
George, with a shiver. But he can't
hang an innocent person, can he,
father? That has never happened, has
it?"
The look OF distress on the old mans
face was pltiable to see. He entirely
forgot his own trouble in his anxiety 20
reassure his son, and to some extent he
was successful, George declaring that
in reality he felt no uneasiness about
himself He was innocent, he said,
therefore no harm could come to him.
But in spite OF these brave words, it was
plain that the lad had not got rid OF his
haunting dread, aud he chung closely 30
his fathers side as they walked back to
the house together.
What was | to do now? What could
| / i
ance, but my remorse did not alleviate
the sufferings OF those whom l had In
iured. II had even left my money to
Rachel as had intended, that would
have been some relief. II only could
give expression TO my repentance. II |
could confeSSl IL was all "lf." was
helpless.
While still fingered, uncertain 10
which direction TO go, the unwieldy
figure Of Alistair Grove came in sight.
With regard to him my feelings had
gone no fungamental change. II any
| thing l hated him more than | had
done during my life time; certainly, l
feared him more l hated him because
be loved, or pretended TO love,
Rachel; feared him because
he was rich, selfish, and utterly
upscrupulous. Perhaps my repentance
was not so complete as fancied, for as
I watched him SLOUGH along In his
! slovsnly way, with a complacent smile
| on his fat smooth face, l felt that II
would have been better IL | had killed
him instead Of Henry WilImott. The
true lover l had slain in my passion;
tina false lover | had left alive TO be
! perpetual source OF torment TO Rachel.
Once more the scene In the moonIit
cornheld ross up before me, but the
man whom struck down with Georges
stick was he whom now saw approach
ing. Did he feel the blow? He GER
tainlv looked around uneasily, and
ouickeued his pace, making q dash In
| through the gate.
Mr.. Vane and Grove were slowly as
cending the steps. George cslled out,
| and hurried after them.
What a ridiculous ass that fellow
Greer made of himself to-day" said he
| in his tactless way, grinning all the
while. at was really lsughable. Why,
| ma would hays thought"