The Warwickshire Herald. — 1895-01-24 (Birmingham, West Midlands, England)

TUE WARWICKSHIRE HERALD, THURSDAY. JANUARY 24.  " Tes, yes I I know r she whispered, "and I don't think 1 want to eonie. It would be ) ) dreadful to see and hear • man con ieinned to die--and if he is innocent! Besides— she lifted her eyes to his then—"your vii would be enough! " A stroll; c;iciicl .1. went through the man, he put his hod ovtir her eycs, as if he could not bear their look. He would have turnAl away, but she clung to his hand.  "Grahame," she said, half wonderingly, "you let this trial weigh on you too muoh; you don't know how worried you look!"  "Yea, yos!P he muttered; be tried to smile. "I stGOl to have got unnerved over it," be added. "Sir Edwin Clare told ma the other day that I put my bout too much; into these things."  °Yes. you do, Grahame, dug; but I love you the better for it," Jesuits said, laying her velvet ohe la to his hand, " only I can't bear to see you so worried!"  And he tried to make light of it, without succeeding in deceiving her. You may deceive anyone more easily than the woman who loves you, onus she perceives there is something wrong. Bat Jesuits knew how to her goal in Mono.; so she let her possess soothe her, and seemed to be satisfied with his explanation, though she was mot.  The day of the trial was a misty November day, with a soft drizzle falling; but no weather would have kept the crowds from the Old Bailey Court and it. precincts on such an occasion as this, combining as it did several element* of interest not often met in murder trials. For as a rule the "romance" of murder can only be called so from the Police News point of view. The assassin is generally a vulgar ruffian; the motives and surroundings sordid. But here the accused was a gentleman—a man of birth and property; the victim, a lady; the motive, a lover's jealousy. A decided mystery also hung about the woman. What or who she was had never been actually ascertained; and altogether the ease was of abnormal interest —last, but not least, being the array of legal talent engag4d. It would be worth while to be in court if only to see and hear Sir Edwin Clare and "handsome Falconer" cross swords. The contest would be a splendid one; in eloquence the latter was safe to carry the day; but then, said the lawyers, he had a bad case. There were flaws in the evidence, maybe, which he was certain to make the most of; but the positives far outweighed the negatives, and, unluckily, Falconer had no positive evidence on his side.  When Falconer was bidding adieu to his wife on that memorable morning, he held her to him as if he could never let her go—as if this were a last patting —so that she clung to him in a kind of fear, for it seemed as if he bad a presentiment in his heart that they would not meet again. But when she whispered something of this fear, he pulled himself together, with an effort, and said he was foolish; he had frightened her; there was no cause; and then he folded her closer yet to him, and kissed her again and again, in a sort of agony, tearing himself away at last almost abruptly, and going out without a word, or looking back, as if he oould not trust his strength, but must, if he looked back, return to her. His face, when he threw himself into the cab at the door, was pale with the grey pallor of mortal pain, and more than once his hand was pressed over his heart—its laboured throbs seemed to choke hiss.  (To be continued.)