The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-05-21

| jury, in the face of God and man. here
declare that Mrs. Webb in my presence
and before my eyes, gave to herself the
blow which has robbed us all of a mos
valuable life. She was not murdered
| 1t was a solemn assertion, but it
! failed to convince the crowd before him.
! AS by one impulse men and women
! broke into tumult. Mr.. Sutherland was
| forgotten and cries of ..Neveri She was
too good. It's all calumny, A wretched
| liei" broke in unrestrained excitement
| from every part of the large room. In
| vain the coroner smote with his gavel;
| in vain the local police endeavored TO
restore order, the tide was up and over
swept everything for an instant till
silence was suddenly restored by the
sight of Amabel smoothing out the
/ folds of her crisp white frock with an
incredulous, almost insulting smile that
at once fixed attention again on Freder-
! lex. He seized the occasion and spoke
up in tone of great resolve.
Il have made an assertion" said he,
before God and before this jury. To
make it seem a credible one l shall
have to tell my story from the begin
| ming. Am l allowed to do so, MI.
Coroner"
You are" was the firm response.
Then gentlemen" continued Fred
erick, still without looking at Amabel.
whose smile had acquired mockery
that drew the eyes of the jury toward
her more than once during the follow
ing recital, you know that Mrs. Webb
has left me the greater portion of the
money of which she died possessed
have never before acknowledged to any
one. not even to the good man who
| awaits this jury's verdict on the other
side of that door. that she had reasons
for this, good reasons, reasons which
up to the very evening of her death |
was myself ignorant of, as L was ig-
norant of her intentions in my regard
or that | was the special object of
her attention, or that we We're under
any mutual obligations in any way.
Why. then, should have thought of
going to her in the great strait in
which 1 found myself on that day. l
can hardly say. l knew she had money
in her house: this / had unhappily been
made acquainted with in an accidental
way, and i knew she was of kindly dis
position and quite capable of doing a
very unselfish act. Still, this would not
seem to be reason enough for me to
intrude upon her late at night with
plea for a large loan of money had l
not been in desperate condition of
mind. which made any attempt seem
reasonable that promised relief from
the uncomfortable burden of a pressing
and disreputable debt. was obliged to
have money, great deal of money.
anu 10 nave DIT once. anu While
/ know this will not serve to tighten the
suspicion 1 have brought upon myself
by my late admissions, it is the only
explanation / can give you for leaving
the ball at my fathers house and
hurrying down secretly and alone in
to town to the little cottage where, as
1 had been told early in the even
ing, a small entertainment. Miss
Page. who will, l am sure, pardon the
introduction of her name into this
narrative, has taken pains to declare
to you that in the expedition she her
self made into town that evening, she
followed some persons steps down hill.
This is very likely true, and those
steps were probably NINE for after
leaving the house by the garden door.
came directly down the main road 10
the corner of the lane running past
Mrs Webb's cottage. Having already
seen from the hillside the light burn
ing in her upper windows, l felt co.
couraged to proceed, and so FASTENED
ON till / came to the gate on High |
street. Here / had a moment of hest |
tation, and thoughts bitter enough for
me to recall them at this moment came |
into my mind, making that instant |
perhaps, the very worst in my life; but |
they passed, thank God. and with |
nothing more desperate in mind than a |
sullen intention of having my own way |
y.
the front door and stepped in.
Il had expected to find a jovial group |
of friends in her little ground parlor |
or at least hear the sound of merry |
voices and laughter in the rooms above:
but no sounds of any sort awaited me:
indeed the house seemed strangely !
silent for one so fully lighted and.
astonished at this, 1 pushed the door
ajar at my left and looked in. An I'M
expected and pitiful sight awaited me.
Seated at a table set with abundance
of untasted food. 1 saw the master of
the house with his head sunk forward
on his arms asleep. The expected
guests had failed to arrive, and he
tired out with waiting, had fallen into a
doze at the board. qtA
This was a condition of things for
which | was not prepared. Mrs. Webb,
whom I wished to see, was probably
upstairs, and while 1 might summon
her by a sturdy rap on the door, be-
side which l stood, I had so little de-
sire to wake her husband. of whose
mental condition L was well aware, that |
| could not BRINE myself to make any |
loud noise within his hearing. Yet 1 /
had not the courage to retreat. All my |
hope of relief from the many difficult |
ties that menaced me lay in the gen.
crosby of this great hearted woman, |
and if out of pusillanimity, l let this |
nothing but shame and disaster await |
ed me. Yet how could / hope to lure !
her downstairs without noise. / could |
not, and so yielding to the impulse of |
the moment, without any realization, l |
here swear, of the effect which my
unexpected presence would have on
the noble woman overhead, I slipped up
the narrow staircase, and catching at |
that moment, the sound of her voice |
calling. out to Batsy. l stepped up 10 I
door / saw standing open before me |
and confronted her before she could |
move from the table before which she |
was sitting counting over a large roll |
of money.
My look land it was doubtless not a
common look, for the sight of a mass |
of money at that moment. when money
was everything to me, roNsed every
lurking demon in my breasD seemed |
10 appall, if it did not brighten her for |
she rose. and meeting my eye with a |
gaze in which shock and some strange |
and pignant agony totally incompre-
hensible to me We're strangely blended, |
she cried out:
mo, no, Frederick, You don't know |
what you are doing. If you want my |
money, take it; if you want my life, 1 |
will give it to you with my own hand. |
Don't stain yours-don't''-
I did not understand her. / did not |
know until | thought it over afterward |
that my hand was thrust convulsively |
into my breast in a way which. taken |
with my wild mien, made me leek as if ,
had come to murder her for the |
money over which she was lowering. l |
was blind, deaf 20 everything but that |
r,1 L.