The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-04-26


cousin. Robert Horribly.
The man was dead. There was no doubt
of that. The movement that John had
seen had been the last death struggle. He
was dead, and there was no mystery about
| the cause of death. 1t had not come from
| his fall. There was a terrible wound upon
| his head; and beside him lay the weapon
a heavy stick, that had done the deed
John stopped and picked up the stick
| looking al IL with wide-opened incredulouS
| eyes. For the stick was his own; he had
/ missed it that morning from his little
/ house, and had come to the conclusion
/ that George had taken it away. And IL
was George who had done the MURDER
| done it with John Bars stick, as If he
| had meant to afffx suspicion upon John
| Barr.
John was incapable of movement for a
| little while. The shock was too great
| And before he had collected his wits, as
| fate would have it, he was seen from the
| opposite side of the cutting, with his vic
| tim-as it was afterwards expressed-ly-
| ing at his feet. In an hour he had been
| arrested by the village constable, on sus-
| picion of having caused Robert Hornby's
| death.
III.
| He was brought up at the inquest, in
| custody, and cross-examined by the local
| magnates with some severity. They were
| the more severe because he refused to
| commit himself by giving the information
1 which, in a somewhat irregular manner
| they demanded. The consequence was
/ that, after a prolonged consultation be-
| tween themselves, the jury brought in a
1 verdict of "Wilful murder" and John Barr
| was ultimately committed for trial.
I George Wescott had not appeared in court
| and John had not been able to contrive a
| word with him, which he had longed for.
| He wanted to say to him Don't you
! fear, George. I'll take it on myself, II so
/ be that Edith loves you. She may be hap-
Py with you yet if bear the blame; and
But George did not give him an oppor-
| tunity of saying this
| He waited patiently while some conclud-
| ing formalities were being transacted
| when a woman's cry fell sharply upon his
ear. Was it not Edith's voice? Before ne
| knew what was happening, before any
| body in the crowded little room was able TO
| interfere, Edith Horribly had thrust her
| self between the spectators and made her
way to Johns very side.
| John! John!' she cried i've only Just
| heard. l thought 1t was nonsense till
| Just now. How can they say that you did
| any harm to father? How dare they?'
Who is this woman" asked the cor
| oner, sternly. He was a stranger to the
| district or he would scarcely have asked
| that question.
Daughter of the murdered man." was
whispered in his ear and looking toward
the intruder. he was so much startled by
the tragic beauty of her passionate, pale
moval.
John turned to her with an involuntary
movement of gratitude and pleasure, then
stepped back and hung his head.
/ JOuIs Know you never nurL MIN. on,
John, the best man in the world. Please,
| gentlemen, you don't know John Barr or
you would never think that he could hurt
| a fly. He is the gentlest mildest, best
tempered fellow in the world, and ali the
neighbors will bear me out in that"
| My good young woman"
| "Oh, please, sir, let me speak for himr p
said Edith, clasping her hands. II know
| him better than anyone else. and have
the right to speak for him, because
| She stopped suddenly, and flush stole
| into her white cheeks
"Because-yes; because-what?" said
1 the coroner, curiously.
| because love him." said the girl, lock-
| ing her hands together, and looking up
proudly. Yes, with all my heart and
| soul, John. 1 never cared for any one
| but you, and l will speak for you with
my latest breath"
John gasped; he almost reeled Had his
sacrifice then been all in vain? 1t seemed
| so indeed; for If Edith did not love George
| Westcott there was no need for him 10
have screened the murderer But it was
| too late now; besides, George had been
his friend, and there was, now at least,
| mo other way"
! Go home Edith" he said. hoarselv.
Don't you waste a thought upon me,
! dear, in your great pity. God bless you
for speaking as you have done. But you
''Can nothing be done?" she cried. look
| ing round piteously. And then her face
| changed to an awful Wilderness, and her
eyes dilated as she darted finger in
| the direction of one corner of the room.
| George Westeottw she cried. II left YOU
in the plantation that very evening. Have
| you no evidence to give?'
This is very Irregular" said the coro-
ner, recovering himself. But he did not
refuse to look and listen when George
| Westcott, haggard and disheveled, was
hustled and pushed forward by the crowd,
| until he stood at John Bars side.
The coroner asked him question, but
| after gazing wildly about him for a
minute or two, Westcott burst into a
strange fit Of laughter, which sounded
almost demoniacal in the ears of those
$50 Edith loved you after ALP he said.
| "Well, then, I might as well tell the
! truth for what have / to live for? La
I killed Robert Horribly. Now put me in
John Bars place, for he is innocent as
the babe unborn"
A shudder ran through the room Edith
! dropped fainting at John Bars side.
She was lifted and carried into the fresh
air, and George Westcott spoke again
'Hornby told me to leave his house. ]
said 1 would be revenged on him, and SO
| was. / said / would make him sorry
for his words. And so / did-so I did.
| When he lay dying with his dreadful eyes
| fixed upon me told him-I reminded him.
| Oh, yes; made him understand. And it
was John Bars stick ] killed him with
! so that people should think it was not my
doing. But since Edith loves him-loves
| him-loves him
The wild strained voice died away in
| half-articulate murmurings.
| Suddenly his eyes turned up, his color
| changed to a CHASTITY livid hue the foam
rose and Settled on his ashen lips as ne
/ sank to the ground in all the horrors
of an epileptie fit. The assembly broke
up hurriedly. but George was retained in
/ custody, and John Barr went free.
There was only a formal trial. for West
4 colt never recovered his senses. He was
condemned to be imprisoned during her
majesty's pleasure" and Is now confined
! in an asylum, where his madness is pro-
nounced TO be Of the most hopeless kind.
He viii live and die, the doctors say, in
| curably insane.
What made you keep silence. John?'
/ Edith asked, at q later date, with some
/ reproach I'm her voice.
MY dear. ] thought you loved him"
| And II ] had"
why, then you could have married him
/ safely enough, II bore the blame"
Married my fathers murderer" said
I Edith. her lips quiVerinH.
"What the eye does not see the heart
/ does not ariege over" said John, IN his
] atolid. sensible way
II should have known BY instinct, I
@sot Il you loved him. dear"