The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1908-11-25
50 they rode out into the suburbs

or the great city. the mans gaze fixed
wonderingly on the old familiar
sights that now looked so strange to
him. He had been in Jail but nine
months and yet the change seemed
like that of century span.
He speculated II the world would
ever again look to him as it did be-
fore that night-that night when the
gale drove the clouds in great black
| masses across the night and the
hawk cried shrilly; that night when
the moon leaped suddenly into
blaze of spectral light. showing the
house-the trader who had come to
sleeping room above the carriage
buy corn-the up-turned face that
night when a stiffened groan WAS an.
swered back by sharp cry of the
hawk calling across the void.
He shuddered as these disconcert-
ed pictures framed themselves before
his gaze. The remark of his lawyer
flashed across his mind.
II never had any doubt of the re-
suit"
He wondered why. Truly it was
wonderful thing-this Justice. He
felt the warm clasp of the lawyers
hand and glanced furtively at his
own. Was there anything on it? He
became sensible of feeling of an
tipathy toward the man who had set
him free. There was something in
the hearty, open, honest frankness
n 10 Low hot fal III
He turned his gaze upon his wife.
who met it with serene smile, her
lips half parted.
81 trusted you all the time" she
whispered.
There it was again. She, too. She
grated on him as did the lawyer. He
wished that she didn't have so much
trust in him-all of this confidence
touched a cord in his nature that
cried out in mocking protest. II 1t
hadn't set all his nerves tingling, he
would have been tempted to laugh
uproariously.
Then suddenly his mood changed.
What was the use of all this? He
was free, acquitted by jury of his
peers. That was fact. He had
stood his trial-hadn't it been fair
and impartial? And here he was.
yes, it was reality-riding back to
his home, the stain of murder wiped
from his scutcheon, privileged once
more to hold his head high.
These thoughts rushed through
Montresson's brain, and with a great
effort he sought to cast his burden
aside. A sort of smile spread over
his face. He gathered his wife in
his arms and kissed her.
"Thank God! Thank God!" she
murmured.
They were nearing the house now.
From the door the little ones came
rushing to meet the carriage. Be-
fore he knew it he was out and they
were capering about him-their
kisses burning into his flesh, their
merry laughter driving his tortured
soul to desperation.
bad man shut darling papa in
nasty prison." lisped the youngest.
He looked down on her with an
expression of great longing, and then
turned as the little six-year-old
scrambled to his knee.
Papa, tell your little daughter
you wouldn't kill man, would you?"
His head fell forward on his breast,
and great tears coursed down his
cheeks. The mother hastily gathered
up her brood and dragged them from
the room.
And then he rose up, and with
mighty strides went out by the side
door and proceeded directly to the
carriage house. Entering, he silently
closed and barred the door, and then
mounted the stairs to the room above.
He paused on the threshold and
his eyes became riveted on the bed.
"I was mad, mad" he murmured
fiercely. But now am sane. Here
he fell, struck down by me. And
here l." he strobe over to
dresser, and opening the bottom
drawer fumbled about for a minute.
The muscles of his face frightened.
"Pitiful, pitiful law" he mur-
INJURED. Blind, aimless justice. You
remove the scar from brow by
driving it into the SOUL"
With feverish jerk he drew a re-
volver from the drawer, examined the
chamber to see that the cartridges
were there.
He laid the muzzle of the revolver
against his temple and pulled the
trigger. Cultivator.