Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1907-10-04
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CHAPTER XxyII.


CHAPTER XXXII.
M A1NTREE was driven home be-
"a fore dusk, for his pocketbook
was bloated with moist bank
notes, besides which Lady
Starkfe positively refused to have him
about the hotel that evening. 1t was
against the rules for bridegrooms as
laid down by her ladyship, who dined
very solemnly with her niece alone
and got to bed at a reasonable hour for
tile first time that week. Claire thel,
had their sitting room to herself, and
she drew out the oiled silk packet
which had fallen into her hands that
afternoon. 1t was thin and oblong,
like the letter 1t plainly contained. I'm
der the lamp Claire's name and the
address of her old home We're still
leglble beneath the silk. though they
no longer stood out as when the skin
was wet. And on the reverse side was
written very small, "For PHYS sake,
forward this.''
When? After his death? Fate had
forwarded 1t before. Should she read
OF destroy or return this letter to Its
writer-to the criminal who had con-
fessed to her his crime? Some min
utes after Claire Harding asked her.
self this question she turned up the
lamp and cut the oiled silk open with
a pair of scissors. She now saw that
the letter had been written some time:
yet it was with strange thrill, a won
derment beginning at the heart, that
she read the heading within. 1t was
Newgate and the date May 20, 1887,
the blacklist day of all her life, the eve
of that on which they would have
hanged him.
Agitated as she was, however, by
these dreadful memories and touched
by the mere fact Of his having written
to her on that awful Monday, 1t was
the first sentence of his letter that ran
into her heart like molten lead. He
called himself an innocent man! From
the brink of the grave came that lie,
TINT blasphemy, which lie had lived to
confess to her with his crime! She
read on mechanically, and all at once
her pain ceased. She was lost and
absorbed in tho plain, straightforward,
circumstantial story into which he
plunged without preliminary. He told
her everything from the moment they
parted at the garden gate. Nothing
was left out, nothing cxtenuated, moth
Ing enlarged or even commented upon
by the writer. Her heart was beating
wildly long before she reached the end
Of this plain statement. She had for.
gotten all about his confession, THIS
rang true; this rang true.
eSweetheart," he went on-"for 1
must call you so once more-I cannot
tell you how feel for vary from
hour to hour. Now and then l feel the
murderer they say am, now and then
an abject coward (~ithout the pluck
to show IT., now and then a sort Of
Christian martyr. But with Gods
help l hope to finish up man. Do
not grieye for the ugly way Of it.
There's no disgrace In that, since It's a
mistake, and If there is God never
fear but he will make it up to me one
day. Oh, but 1t is sweet to talk to you
again! used to tell you everything,
ind so must until the end.
"The turkeys are looking through
my grating now. They are telling each
other what l am at and coming Dnck
and back again to have peep. My
Christianity isn't proof against that
say nothing, but I could do the thing
am going to die forced help me-
may do 1t yet! You see how l change.
There is only one thing in which can
never change-my grateful love and
reverence for the great girl soul that
forgave me and would have given me
another chance if this had not hap
pened. Sweetheart, my love fer you
has grown in prison: it has been my
only comfort in this vile place, and it
will go with me where so tomorrow
lit will stay with my poor soul
through all eternity. Only do not
grieye for me, Claire, for never was
worthy Of your sweet love. would
not leave this behind for you, would
not have you reminded of me for a
single day, but for one selfish thing.
Sweetheart, 1t is to make you believe
In me. You have not done SO yet
Why should you? Nobody knows what
you know and have so nobly hidden,
but, for all said to you, am limo
cent. He was alive when left him.
did give him the receipt, and we
shook hands at the end. That Is Gods
truth. tell 1t you with the last words
my hand will ever write. / meant to
write to the kind fanatic who paid for
my defense and Is working still (they
tell mel for reprieye, but now can
not. II you could find him out and
thank him for me, should be CRATE
full, but my last words in this life
must be to you. God bless you, dear,
and give you somebody much better
than ever could have been. Only do
know that never did this thing, and
when you realize that think no more
Of me, my dear love, bait pray tomor-
row for the soul of your unworthy
boy
Els signature followed. bet:er ,*.it-
ten than the rest. a touching effort to
Finish up man." All the last pages
were blurred With the condemned
mans tears, and now after seventeen
months her tears We're raining, raining.
on the same paper, OH the same words,
that bore the blots of his.
This postscript remained:
"Reprieyed at the last moment!
shall not send this now, but hope
that 1t may reach YOU when I am