Year: 1877

ward Till he reached The bank, he paused
at the top OF the steep descent, and, sup
porting himself by a tree as he leaned for
ward, he said in tone that, unconsciously
TO himself, was low and hushed. "Jane,
are you there2" Unconscously to himself,
also, the idea that was growing more SOL
emnly distinct before his mind gave a gem
tleness TO his voice which, if her ear had
caught, would it not have brought her
back from the gate of death2 As he listen
ell intently, the rush Of the river swollen
by the rains was all that he heard. II need
ed all the courage of that resolute man TO
descend the bank, trying TO distinguish the
forms of objects amid the darkness, aud at
last to stand upon the log that was put
there for convenience in dipping up the
water. The stream was higher, the cur
rent stronger than he expected, and swept
close up to the log with bitter force. lie
turned the light on either side. He raised
it above his head to cast its rays far out up
on the stream-as If there could be any use
in that If fanything had happened there
only a moment before, no trace OF 1t re-
mained. 1t happened in the utter lonei-
ness and darkness and vanished into the
night.


He needed no evidence in sight or sound.
Only in this way could her absence be ex-
plained. While waiting for his return she
had noticed that wafer would be needed,
aud as she was accustomed, went for il her
self 1t came TO him, now, that of late she
had never asked him to do this for her,
and he had never once offered. His bosom
heaved-wretched as be was, there was
something of manhood's best in him still
as he thought Of her in her ieebleness GO
ing out into the dark, for he had taken the
lantern with him. Still. perhaps, some
what light-headed, she had bent over the
stream, aud the first grasp Of the pail by
the current had drawn her in. Once off her
feet, the curve of the bank would project
her into the full force of the river, which
would bear her far down before any thing
could arrest her course till life was extinct.


So it proved to be. The next day her re.
mains were found amid some driflwood on
the opposite side of the river, and long
way down, her hand still clutching the pail.
Her countenance, scarce more paid than
before, had placid expression it had not
worn for years.


How William Dempton met his neigh
bors, and went through the scenes that fol.
lowed the death of his wife, need not be
told. Though, as have said, not surly, he
was repellant in manner, so that as few
words were exchanged as circumstances
permitted. Whether or not the idea cross
ed his mind that he was the object of sus-
piciou, it made no perceptible difference in
his conduct. He stated the facts as they
had occurred, 10 immediate connection
with the accident, and len item TO make
their impression, apparently careless of the
result


Yet he felt what had happened as his
sturdy frame might have felt blow dealt
him by some powerful hand. Not over
thrown, nor even staggered, he was intense
ly conscious that IL was a blow, aud hard
one.


The reader will have gathered from the
conversation detailed above the principal
facts with which we are concerned. His
wife had truly read his heart, and it was
this disclosure of the keen discernmeut of
the woman who, Notwithstanding her oc-
cssional expostulations, had gone along in
The main so quietly by his side, that pro-
voked his unusual outburst of passion.
The emotion it expressed still stirred his
inmost soul. He well knew that her meek
ness was not weakness; that she was reso-
Lutte TO do whatever she thought was her
duty, and that her conduct toward him had
been governed by this principle. Though
not prepared 10 learn, as he did, from her
own lips, how soon she had detected the
purpose whi ch be kept in the back ground
OF his own mind, he had counted on her
knowledge of his character as one means
by which he would keep her silent he had
never supposed that he could bend her 10
participate in his plans. On this account
he had exaggerated his natural sternness
of manner, and though never abusive or
violent, had affected a roughness of speech.
She would take refuge in silence rather
than keep up contention. Perhaps, just
glancing at the future, he counted on her
sense of a wife's duty as a shield when it
might be needed. Thus he had explained
TO himself their manner of living for the
three or four years past, and his own OBJ
ject in keeping it up.


The blow, then, which was given him by
her death, following so suddenly on their
last Interview, was received by him main
ly in his conscience. Though utterly with
out religious principle, he had religious
ideas that were as unquestioned by him as
the sunlight. If he had wanted to do any
thing the sun must not shine on he would
not attempt 10 deny the sunshine, but
would simply wait for the night. So in
matters of conscience. God and another
world and day of judgment were undis-
puted facts. But he acted as il there were
a moral nighttime; not for him TO hide in
that would have implied activity in get
ting out of the way of objects keenly dis
cerned and felt-but TO wait for and be pas
sively enveloped by it. Then he would do
what he pleased, unseen-a state of mind
by no means singular, for 1t explains many
a mans conduct.


At the point where he now stood, how
ever, a ray of light darted through the
gloom OF William Dempton's mind.


Irall that while his wife had believed
that his plans were lending toward the COM
mission of deadly crime, what held her
back from speaking out as she had done
that last day? There had been many an
opportunity as good. He had encouraged
her idea that he might mediate personal
violence against herself; it helped him TO
govern her more easily. But when be saw
that she had not been trembling merely at
this Imagination of her own, but was over
powered by her apprehension of the very
truth that never till now had seemed so
vast an object to his own mind, he sought
for an explanation. That he did not shrink
from doing so was characteristic of the
man. There were certain objects that were