Omaha daily bee., 1899-06-11
CHAPTER XXXV.

But alas! all tides have their ebb as we'll
as flow, and before Mr.. Sutherland and Fred
erick were welf out of the main street the
latter became aware that notwithstanding
the respect with which his explanations had
been received by the jury there were many
Of his fellow townsmen who were ready to
show dissatisfaction at his being allowed to
return in freedom to that home where he
had still every prospect of being called
the young master. Doubt, that seed OF
ramifying growth, had been planted in
more than one breast, and while 1t failed
as yet to break out into any open mani
festation, there were evidences enough in
the very restraint visible In such groups OF
people as they passed, that suspicion had
not been suppressed or his innocence es-
tablished by the over favorable verdict Of
the coroner's jury.
To MIR. Sutherland, suffering now from
the reaction following all great efforts,
much, If not all. of this quiet but Gig
nifcant display of public feeling passed
unnoticed. But to Frederick, alive to the
least look, the least sign that his story had
not been accepted unquestioned, this pas
sage through the own was the occasion Of
the most poignant suffering.
For not only did these marks OF public
suspicion bespeak possible arraignment in
Lit luluIcJ u thiou6u tuch ~ peSdliS "
dent that even IL he escaped open condem-
nation in the courts he could never hope
for complete reinstatement before the
world, nor, what was to him a still deeper
source of despair, anticipate a day when
Agnes love and domestic happiness should
make amends to him for the grief and errors
of his more than wayward youth. He could
never marry so pure a being while the
shadow of crime separated him from the
mass of human beings. Her belief in his
innocence and the exact truth OF his story
(and he was confident she did believe him)
could make no difference in this conclusion.
While he was regarded openly or in dark
corners, or beside the humblest freside, as
a possible criminal, neither Mr.. Sutherland
nor her father, nor his own heart even,
would allow him to offer her anything but a
friends gratitude, or win from her anything
but a neighbours sympathy, yet in bidding
goodby to larger hopes and more OPP
Fortunate desires he parted with the better
part OF his heart, and the only solace re-
manning in this world for the boundless
griefs and tragic experiences of his still
young life. He had learned TO love through
suffering, only to realize that the very
nature of his suffering forbade him to in
dulge In love.
And this seemed, even in this hour of
public justification, a final judgment. He
had told his story and been for the moment
believed, but what was there in his life,
what was there in the facts as witnessed
by others, what was there in his mothers
letters and tho revelation of their secret
relationship TO corroborate his assertions
or to prove that her hand, and not his, had
held the weapon when the life-blood gushed
from her devoted breast? Nothing, moth
ing; only his word to stand against all
human probabilities and natural inference;
only his word and the generous nature OF
the great-hearted woman who had thus
persisted! Though a dozen OF his fellow
citizens had by their verdict professed their
belief In his word and given him the benefit
of a doubt involving his life as we'll as his
honor, he, as well as they, knew that neither
the police nor the general public were given
to sentimentality, and that the question or
his guilt still lay open and must remain
so till his dying day, for from the nature
OF things no proof OF the truth was probable.
Batsy being dead, only God and his own
heart could know that the facts of that
awful half hour were as he had told them.
Had God in his justice removed in this
striking way his only witness as a punish
ment for his sins and his MAJ indulgence
in acts so little short OF crime as to par
take OF it's guilt and merit its obloquy?
He was asking himself this question as
he bent 10 fasten the gate. His father had
passed In, the carriage had driven of and
the road was almost solitary, but not quite,
AS he leaned his arm over the gate and
turned 10 take a final glance down the hill
side he saw, with what feeling no one will
ever know. the light figure of Agnes ad-
vancing on the arm OF her father.
He would have drawn back, but a better
impulse interviewed and he stood his ground.
Mr.. Halliday, who walked very close TO
Agnes, cast her an admonitory glance which
Frederick was not slow in interpreting, then
stopped reluctantly. perhaps, because he saw