The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1897-04-14

by his naughty and uncompliant bear
ing. He gave his name as Hugh
Wentworth, but freely admitted that
the latter half was assumed. He ask
ed leave to plead his own case, and
when the court refused and appointed
lawyer johnson, a big, pompous man
with great reputation in criminal
cases, to conduct the defense, and the
latter in private advised the prisoner
TO confess the whole matter TO him
that he might make out better case,
Wentworth turned upon the lawyer
with great fury, saying he had no need
of the services of rascal to prove his
| innocence.
One afternoon as Clara was return
ing home from the high school with a
girl friend, the latter asked her to go
up into the courtroom with her and
see the great trial, and Clara, after
some hesitatation, consented. They
found a large crowd of spectators,
among whom Were many girls and
women, and so going little back and
to one side, they sat down TO listen.
The prisoner himself was on the wit
ness stand and rs Clara looked at his
pale, impressive face and listened to
his deep voice, now low and musical
and now raised in indignation, she
soon forgot the smoky room and the
host of vulgar people an d became quite
absorbed in his story.
His defense was strange and well
nigh incredible. He said that on the
evening of the robbery he was walking
slowly down Main street on his way to
his lodgings. AS he thus sauntered
along, he heard the shot i'm the bank,
and turning to see what it meant,
man with a revolver came around the
corner and ran into him, almost knock
ing him down. He caught the weap-
| on from the fellows hand and tried to
hold the man himself, but the latter
escaped; and running on down the
street disappeared up an alley, while
he, after pursuing him short distance
was knocked down by some one be-
hind him and knew nothing more un-
til, on regainiDg consciousness, he
found himself in the custody of the
sheriff. When asked to explain his
presence in Vallombrosa, he said that
his father was a man of wealth, living
in one of the eastern states, and that
having private reasons for leaving his
home, he had come out west, where,
never having learned any trade or pro-
fession, he was obliged to earn his liv-
ing by manual labor. At the time of
the arrest he was working for green
house man. The truth of this last
statement was presently verified by
the testimony of several witnesses, all
of whom said that, rs far as they knew
he was honest, sober and industrious,
though somewhat "offishn as one of
them expressed it.
The court now adjourned, aud Clara
went home with whirl OF strange
thoughts in her girlish mind. The
next day the ease went to the jury,
who returned in an hour with ver-
diet of guilty.
On the evening Of the day Went
worth was convicted, Clara sat alone
in the sitting room, her mother and
brother being away on a visit, and her
father having gone down town on some
business. On table i'm the centre of
room burned large Rochester lamp,
with a red paper shade. The walls
were hung with engravings and anna
teurish looking oil colors, there was a
bookcase filled with brightly covered
books, a sofa, large armchair, and in
the window wire rack filled with
house plants. A door at the back led
to the main hall of the Jail, where the
prisoners were allowed TO assemble in
the daytime and where at night, after
they were locked up in their separate
cells, the deputy usually loafed away
the evening with his pipe and news
paper. AS Clara sat by the lamp read
ing this door opened and the deputy
appeared in his hat and overcoat.
"When your father comes back The
said, ''tell him have gone TO Bowers
to see about that land deal"
"All right" replied Clara, and the
deputy disappeared.
Clara was now the only free person
in the whole building, and she felt
rather queer. She closed her book and
fell to thinking of the murder trial,
which seemed to exercise a fascinating
influence over her mind. The sudden,
unprepared-for death of the bank tell
er, arising from no fault or neglect of
his own; the pursuit and the fierce
beating of a man to the earth; the
dread and suspense of the trial, and
the final downfall of the prisoners last
hopes,-all these things forced them
selves upon Clara's mind with a sort of
hazy awfulness and awakened a dim
sense of the tragedy of existence and
the eternal conflict between good and
evil.
This lofty mood could not last long
in so young a mind, and soon melted
into one of simple pity and sympathy,
when she thought of the condemned
man as he now lay alone in his little
cell, with none i'm the whole wide
world to do him a kindness or
look on him with friendly eyes. She
did not consider the question of his
guilt or innocence, but rather dwelt on
his trouble and suffering, and as she
did so tears came into her eyes. Then
there arose in her breast a strong wo-
manly impulse to do something, any
thing to relieve him. Dared she speak
to him?
Clara had never been into the Jail
without her father, and she knew the
inmates were sometimes very noisy
and rude. She stepped to the door,
opened it and listened; there was no
sound. Then with timid, fearful foot
steps, she advanced into the hall or
corridor of the Jail. The air was OPP
pressive with dead tobacco smoke and
the exhalations of unclean men; over
head the gas jets burned low and dim.
Clara knew the number of the cell in
which Wentworth was confined-she
had heard her father mention it. As