The Cotton Factory Times. — 1893-10-06 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER XXIX. WIIAT PAT'S WIVE HEARD.  While the house of Banks was in mourning for his fate, and even as Belton was being sentenced to death, the woman for whose life lie had sacrificed his own was dying in the Moorbill Workhouse, near Spindleton ; after baying given birth to a stillborn baby. She was being tended by one of the union muses, assistfd by one of the inmates, a woman of about thirty-five years of age. The nurse went out of the room for some purpose or other, saying that she would be back in a few minutes.  The woman looked at the dying wretch on the bed. "Poor orator." she said, and her words betrayed her nationality, "poor crater; its nearly all over with her now, an it's a blesain that the babby is dead. Au I don't think she's long herself for this world, aither. It's a sad place to die in, is a workhouse, God knows; but it's a better place to the in than to live in. The blessin of the Holy Virgin rest on this poor dyin' crater here, au give peace to her Bowl!"  After the murder of the knobtitick the wit., of Barry Belton had roamed about the district for a week in a state of passive insanity. Than, one day, she attempted to drown herself in a factory lodge, but was seen by a workman, and rescued; whereupon the polioe took her before the maOstrates, and she was committed temporarily to the lunatic ward of the workhouse. Here she made an endeavour to out her throat with a knife she had stolen during meal time, and had to be carefully watched. In this condition the was pet to bed, and her baby was been dead; and the doctor mid there was no hope Lee the mother, and that she would not live till morning. Fur a long while she had lain perfectly unconscious, lint sense mine back as life ebbed away, end when the nurse went out she opened her eyes, and asked feebly, " Where am I?"  " Rest aisy," answered the Irishwoman, "you're all right, though you're not in the best of sickrooms, hut—God be good to us !—we can't have all wa want in this world. Rest aisy, girl, an go to sleep." "To sleep," echoed Mrs. Balloon, "Pm going to sleep for ever." " Shure an don't say that; you'll get better, with God's help, an be all right in the morniu, when the sun rime an the birds sing." "The suu will never rise for me, nor the birds ever sing again," said the patient. " Ah," as • sudden thought oarne to her, "where's the baby?"  " 'Tis werl off," replied the Trish woman, "for the good Jeeui has takee it; don't grieve, darlin; better off so."  " It is," said Mrs. Belton, "I am glad that it is dead."  Then she relapsed into silence, and was evidently thinking, trying to recall something. "Ali I" she cried, all at cube, starting rip violently, "I remember now I Where is he—where ie no— where is he—my husband?" " bliure an I don't know that," said the Irish woman, kindly, "but wherever he is he onglit to feel ashamed of himself for leavin yon in a strait like this."  " Leaving me !" exclaimed the dying woman. "'Twee I who left him I And I am dying. God forgive me! What has become of him. Ah--let me remember—let me remember. Oh, God! let me remember I"  She passed her hand over her forehead, and then almost shouted aloud, "I have it now I have it. I killed the man and left him standing over the dead body! And he will be hanged for it--but it was I who did it; it was I who killed him 1" (To be continued.)