Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1909-03-17

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dered. Her house of cards fell. She
had been mistaken! She leaned her
head back against the cushion and
closed her eyes.
Presently she felt cold glass touch
her lips. "Here is some water" the
bishops voice said. You are better,
are you not? Poor child! You have
been through terrible strain.
would give the world to help you If 1 |
could.'
He left her, and she sat duly trying
to think. The regular jar of the trucks
had set itself to atrhythm-no hope no
hope, no hope! She knew now that |
there was none. When the bishop re-
entered she did not turn her head. He
sat: beside her awhile, and she was
aware again of his voice, speaking
soothingly. At moments thereafter he
was there, at others she knew that she
was alone, but was unconscious of the
fight of time. She knew only that the
day was fading. On the chilly whirl-
ing landscape she saw only crowded
room, jury box, Il judges bench and
Hugh before it, listening to the SEN
tence that would take him from her
forever. The bright sunlight was mer-
cilessly, satanically cruel and God
sneering monster turning crank.
Into her conscious view grew distant
snowy ranges, hills unrolling at their
feet, struggling town, a staring white
courthouse and grim low building
beside it. She rose stumblingly, the
train quivering to the brakes, as the,
bishop entered.
'This is Smoky Mountain" she said
with numb lips. "That Is the building
where he is being tried. 1 am going
| there now"
The bishop opened the door and gave
her his hand to the platform. The
train was to stop but ten minutes. he
| stood Il moment watching her as she
crossed to the street; then, with the
sadness deep in his heart, entered the
station to send Il telegram.
Hugh's haggard face peered after
them through rift in n window cur
tain. What could she have suspected?
Not the truth! And only that could be-
tray him. Presently the bishop would
return, the train would start again, and
this spot of terror would be behind
him. What had he to do with Harry
Sanderson?
He bethought himself suddenly of
the door. If some one should come in
upon him! With Il qualm of fear he
stood up. staggered't to 1t and turned the
key In the lock. There was not the
wonted buzz about the station. The
place was silent save for the throb Of
the halted engine, and the shadow OF
the train on the frosty platform quiv-
cred like criminal. A block away
he saw the courthouse. Knots of peo-
pie were standing about its door wait
ing for what? A fit of trembling seiz-
ed him.
All his years Hugh had been moral
coward. Life to him had been sweet
for the grosser, material pleasures ii
held. He had cared for nobody, had
held nothing sacred. He had now only
to keep silence, let Harry Sanderson
pay the penalty, and he need dread nc
more. Hugh Stires, TO the persuasion
Of the law, would be dead. AS soon as
might be he could disappear, as the
rector of st. James had disappeared be
fore. He might change his name and
live at ease in some quarter of the
world, his alarm laid forever.
But worse thing would haunt him
to scare his sleep-he would be doubly
blood guilty!
In the awful moment While he chung
to the iron bars of the collapsing rose
window, with the flames clutching at
him, Hugh had looked into hell and
shivered before the Judgment, 1.-THE
wages Of sin Is DEATH" In that fiery
ordeal the cheapness and swagger, tue
ostentation and self esteem, had burn
ed away, and his soul had stood
naked rs a winter wood. Dying had
not then been the austere terror What
came after? That had appalled, him.
Yet Harry Sanderson was not afraid
of the hereafter. He chose death calm
| ly, knowing that lie, Hugh, was unfit
to die.
| Suppose he told the truth now and
saved Harry. He had never done a
brave deed for the sake of truth or
| righteousness or for the love of any
human being, but he could do one now.
For the one red counter that had been
a symbol OF day of evil living he
could render a deed that would make
| requital for those unpaid days He
would not have played the towards
part. 1t would repair the wrong he
had done Jessica. He would have
made expiration. Forgiveness and pity,
not reproaches and shame, would fol-
low him, and it would balance perhaps
the one dreadful count that stood
against him. He thought of the scat
fold and shivered, vet there was
more terrible thought: 1t is fearful
| thing to fall into the hands of the liv-
| ing God!
| He made his way again to the door
and unlocked it. 1t was only to cross
that space, to speak, and then the
grim brick building and the penalty.
With a hoarse cry he slammed the
door and frantically locked it. The
edge of the searching pain was upon
him again. He stumbled back to the
couch and fell across it face down,
dragging the cushions in frantic haste
over his head to shut out the sick
throbbing Of the steam that seemed
shuddering at the fate his covering
soul dared not face.
The groups outside the courthouse
made way deferentially for Jessica,
but she was unconscious of it. Some
one asked Il question on the steps, and
she heard the answer, 1.-The state has
just finished, and the judge is charg-
ing"
The narrow hall was filled, and,
though all who saw gave her instant
place, the space beyond the inner door
was crowded beyond the possibility Of