Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1897-01-25
DARK DAYS
BY HUGH CONWAY.
CHAPTER NII.-(Continued.)
TEMPTED TO DISHONOR.

man. The thought of their death trou-
bleS not those who send them forth TO
fight Men kill each other for revenge.
for money. for i point of honor, and
tho killer lives on as other men live!
Trust this man TO the vaunted array
of Justice. He is innocent, and Will
come from the ordeal unscathed. If
found guilty. let him die. lie will not
be the first innocent man who has died,
nor will he be the last to die. 1t is but
one life! He is nothing to you; think
of him no more. Come what may, you
will always have your sunny home and
the woman you love. Her children will
grow mp around you. Why hesi1ateT A
lifC'S happiness is to be won by simply
sealing your lips Its cost is but, sup
posing justice blunders, to bear the bur
den Of one mans death. A paltly price.
This was the temptation with which l
Wrestlcd during those long hours. Again
and again / was on the point of yield
ing. Once or twice ! rose to my feet
with the fixed determination of destroy
ing that paper. and letting things take
their own course, Once or twice | even
forced my steps some distance in the
direction of home, but each time | turned,
went back to the sheltered spot, threw
myself again on the ground, and fought
the battle anew.
No, l could not do this thing. / was
Il gentleman and man Of honor. Pal
try as the price was when compared
with what it might buy, / could not pay
it. Although my whole soul was
merged in PhilipDa's welfare, [ could
not, even for her sake, suffer an inno
cent man to be done unjustly to death.
The crime was too black, too base, too
contemplate. / felt sure that. with the
mans blood morally on my head, the
supremest joys which life could give
would not hull my conscience to rest.
knew it would not be long before re-
morse and shame drove me to commit
suicide.
Let the preachers say that sin is easy;
that wrong is more alluring than right
There may be some sins which are
easily committed, but ] dare to say that
there are others which the aver
age man, educated by the code of honor,
and dreading shame and cOwardice, finds
it far easier to avoid than to bring him
self TO commit. No, every sin is not
easy!
But all the same my struggle was a
mortal che. At times | fancy-it may
be but edncy-that even now my mind
bears some traces of that conflict con-
fiict i'll which my victory meant ruin to
my nearest and dearest. Was [ not
right when | said that my temptation
was an all but unparalleled one? Yet
in reasserting this, let me humbly dis
claim all credit for not having yielded.
! strOve TO yield, but could not
1t was only when / had conquered, and
put the temptation from me, that | was
able to see how utterly useless such a
crime as that urged upon me would have
been Doubtless Philippa sooner or
later would have learned that Sir Mer-
vyn Ferrand's supposed murderer had
paid the penalty of the crime. How
would it have Jared with us then-then.
when reparation was placed out of queS-
ton? knowing as | did every thought
of my WlfeS, every turn Of her inn
pulsive, sensitive nature, l was fain to
tell myself that such news would be
simply her deathblow.
But what was TO be done? Finding
that | could not compass the treachery
which I dared to mediate, / cast about
for another loophole of escape. What if
/ were to return to England, and accuse
myself of the crime2 To insure Philip
pas safety / would right willingly give
away my own life 1t showed the state
to which my mind was reduced when
say that l considered this scheme in all
of its bearings, and for awhile thought
it furnished q solution to my difficulties!
l wonder if my brain was wandering?
l laughed IN bitter merriment as the
upon me. | had forgotten Phlllppa, and
what the effect Of such a sacrifice would
be upon her. | had forgotten that
she loved me. even as | loved her; that
my dying for her sake-for the sake of
saving her from the consequences of
patton. if any were due from her, the
most fearful which human or diaboiical
ingenuity could advise.
No! Neither by SHINING against my
fellowman nor by voluntary sacrifice
of my own life could / save her. After
all my protracted mental struggles, all
my lonely hours of anguish and
wild scheming, was forced
10 return to the point from
which l started. Philippa must sur
Il IL nT1f
man. There was, indeed, no alterna-
tive!
And day gone, or all but gone! The
trial on the 10Th! To reach England
to reach Tewnham in time TO stop the
trial, we must travel day and night.
Day and night. across sunny or starllt
Spain-acrosS pleasant France-we must
speed on. until we reached our own ma
tive land, now lying in all the rich calm
of the early autumn. L must lead my
wife, my love. to her doom.
| rose from the ground. felt weary,
and as if | had been cudgeled in every
limb. | dragged myself slowly back to my
home "She must be- told; she must be
told. But how to tell herr" | muttered,
as l went along. My appearance must
have been wretched: for | received the
impression that several grave-looklng
Sevillanos turned and looked after me
as / passed by. Even as Il cowarly felon
W no OEdSS uIlllStlI SlOnIE W IhC
/ dragged myself to the gate of our
pleasant home, and on tottering feet
passed into that fragrant space in which
the hapniest hours of my life had been
spent.
AS l entered, the remembrance of some
tale which once | had read flashed
through my mind-a tale Of the ferocity
of a by-gone age. 1t was of prisoner
who was forced by his caDtors TO strike
a dagger into the heart Of the woman he
loved. | know not where the tale is to
he found or whenI read it.
But II seemed to me that mine was
parallel case.
Pity me,
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LAST HOPE.
They were sitting in the courtyard, my
mother and my wife. They looked the
embodiment of serene happiness. Their
large fans-the use of the fan came like
an inspiration to Philippe, my mother
acquired it after much practice-were