o
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 BY 
 
 R CAMERON HALL. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 PUBLISHER, 
 
 LONDON. NEW YORK.
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 
 by 
 F. TENNYSON NEEL.Y, 
 
 in 
 United States 
 
 and 
 Great Britain. 
 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PLACE AND SOME OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 IN moments of reverie a picture is often pre- 
 sented to my mind, so vividly and clearly, that I 
 seem to be again standing in rapt contemplation 
 of a scene once familiar and still dear to memory. 
 The cultivated fields, on either sloping side of 
 the valley, waving with grain and glistening 
 with corn-blades, the village on a plain in the 
 center, and the wood-crested hilltops, all har- 
 moniously blend to complete the vision. The 
 thrifty dwellers in this quiet spot had not 
 thought to improve on the beauties of nature, 
 but such was the result. 
 
 The effects of their labors constituted half the 
 charm. Along the southern side ran a small 
 stream, which, when the snows melted in spring, 
 rose above its banks and spread out to an alarm- 
 ing extent, while, in midsummer, as one of the 
 old residents expressed it, the fish were "put to 
 it" for a swimming place. Tradition has it that 
 at one time these hills inclosed a lake which was 
 drawn off and the land drained for cultivation. 
 
 2136166
 
 4 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Only a few years have passed since I left this 
 place, yet, when I think of all that happened 
 there, and of the people I knew, it seems like a 
 dream or a creation of fancy. 
 
 Looking from the point of vantage I have often 
 taken on the hillside, down over the village with 
 its maple-shaded streets, neat little cottages hav- 
 ing flowers in front and kitchen gardens in the 
 rear, and the white church with its square tower 
 inclosing the bell whose clarion tongue has pro- 
 claimed the joining of happy hearts and whose 
 solemn knell has told of the breaking of many 
 another, one would not think a terrible tragedy 
 could occur amid such peaceful surroundings. 
 Yet there did, and such an one as cast a pall of 
 horror over the community, requiring months to 
 dispel. This location is in one of the eastern 
 counties of New York State, and, for personal 
 reasons, I prefer to abbreviate its name which 
 will come a little later. The grocery or general 
 merchandise store, where anything from a paper 
 of pins to a mowing-machine could be bought, 
 was the place of congregation for the male gos- 
 sips of the neighborhood. Everybody knew 
 everybody else for miles around, so no partiality 
 was shown at the nightly gatherings. In winter 
 they sat around the big stove, and in summer 
 out on the porch. About two hundred yards up 
 the street in an easterly direction, was a copious 
 spring from which a little brook was always run- 
 ning. Right where the brook passed under the 
 platform in front of the store it made a little 
 pool, which had been the receptacle for many a 
 basket of eggs or pound of tea dropped from
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 5 
 
 careless hands while being passed from or into a 
 farm wagon. The spring was walled up and 
 roofed over, for the neighboring housewives con- 
 sidered it of great value. Pure, cold, and aways 
 overflowing, it was a blessing indeed. 
 
 A little above it, on the same side of the street, 
 stood a large white house with shutters of bright 
 green. It was of a semi-colonial style, having 
 large chimney places at either end, and a col- 
 umned porch in front. A gravel walk led from 
 the gate around to the ell kitchen, which spa- 
 cious room was the most used of them all. The 
 eccentric owner kept it always well painted and 
 in good repair, so that, had it not been for its 
 air of age, it would have seemed but just com- 
 pleted. The appearance of importance about 
 this place was heightened by the close proximity 
 of more humble dwellings. Although of suffi- 
 cient size for a large family it was occupied by 
 only three people Henry Mason, his daughter 
 Clara, and a middle-aged woman, Miss Hester 
 "Wilkins, who had been nurse to the little tot of 
 three when they came to the village. At the 
 time of which I am writing Clara was a beautiful 
 girl of twenty. She was about five feet six in 
 height, with a perfectly molded figure, dark hair 
 and eyes, regular features and a complexion 
 rivaling the bloom on a sun-ripened peach. 
 Possessed of such peerless attractions it is easy 
 to understand that she was the acknowledged 
 belle of the village. Mr. Mason was about sixty 
 years of age and apparently good for twenty 
 more. His hair and beard were nearly white, 
 but his eye was bright and his step elastic. Ex-
 
 6 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 cept for an occasional trip to Albany, his time 
 was spent in his garden, or the seclusion of an 
 upper room in the house. He allowed no one to 
 enter this room and much comment was caused 
 by this singularity on his part. 
 
 Clara and Miss Wilkins were unable to under- 
 stand why he should exclude even them, yet they 
 made no remark, thinking it one of his peculiar 
 whims. When he purchased the property and 
 took possession years before he had brought with 
 him three or four large chests which he placed 
 in this room. They were supposed to contain 
 books, but some thought, at the time, that they 
 held things of greater value. However, their 
 conjectures went for naught, and all that he ever 
 said about himself was, that he had "dug out a 
 little gold in California, enough to keep the pot 
 boiling with the help of the garden." As is 
 usual in places of this kind there were a few who 
 concerned themselves much about other people's 
 business, apparently having none of their own. 
 Consequently they left no stone unturned to find 
 out all about Henry Mason, but they only had 
 their trouble for their pains. When Clara was 
 sent away to school they thought his wealth 
 must be fabulous. I believe these people meant 
 no harm, yet the disease called "morbid curios- 
 ity" gave them no rest. I do not wish to be 
 misunderstood, for I should be greatly pained to 
 know I had o'ffended any of the many friends I 
 have in this village. Even two or three persons 
 of a mischief-making nature can cause much dis- 
 turbance in a small place, and sometimes people 
 unconsciously assist them by thoughtlessly re-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 7 
 
 peating what they have heard them say. This 
 is \vhat I wish to deplore. Forget what has 
 been said that is detrimental, and tell as much 
 as you can and as much as you know in a per- 
 son's favor. 
 
 One of the most persistent seekers after sensa- 
 tion was an old fellow named Bosh Warton. 
 This seems a peculiar name, but it fitted him ex- 
 actly. The forepart of it may have originally 
 been something else but he was always called 
 "Bosh." Instead of having his woody ard in 
 the rear of his house he had it in front, so that 
 no bit of news would be missed, for he spent 
 most of his time there with ear and eye on the 
 alert for a passer-by. His garden was usually 
 full of weeds, and while his wife had plenty of 
 wood to put under the pot there were very few 
 vegetables to put in it. One night about twelve 
 o'clock four or five roystering young fellows 
 pounded on his door shouting at the top of their 
 voices. "Hello! Bosh, get up quick!" 
 
 Awakened by such a clamor he was nearly 
 frightened out of his senses. Poking his head 
 out of the window he asked, in a voice trembling 
 with fear, "What is the matter? Is the house 
 afire? Is anybody killed?" 
 
 "No," answered they very calmly, now that he 
 was excited, "we were going past and thought 
 we'd let you know." 
 
 He swore he would "hev th' law on 'em fer 
 destarbin' th' peace," but oould never find out 
 who they were. 
 
 Among the many admirers of Clara Mason was 
 handsome young "Will Benson. He was fair,
 
 8 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 nearly six feet in height, with broad shoulders, 
 muscular limbs, regular features of the kind that 
 indicates power of will and strength of purpose, 
 smoothly shaven face and clear, fearless blue eyes. 
 His sunny disposition made him warm friends 
 wherever he went. Though but twenty-three he 
 looked much older and possessed judgment and 
 discretion far beyond his years. He was study- 
 ing law under disadvantageous circumstances, 
 yet, with a determination to succeed, was making 
 satisfactory progress. Being the adopted son of 
 a poor farmer he had early arrived at the conclu- 
 sion that success in his case could only be ob- 
 tained by hard work and hard study. From the 
 proceeds of his work on the farm in summer and 
 autumn, he managed to meet his expenses in 
 winter while studying law in Albany. It is said 
 that everything comes to him who works and 
 waits; but alas! what obstacles must often be 
 overcome and what difficulties battled! As soon 
 as admitted to the bar he intended to begin 
 
 practice in the town of M about five miles 
 
 from the village of H the scene of my story. 
 
 This town possessed several advantages, one of 
 the most important being a railroad station. 
 Probably the residents were justified in saying, 
 
 when taking the stage up to H , they were 
 
 "going out into the country," but such remarks 
 were not pleasing to people of the Tillage and 
 thej r usually found means to retaliate. Will and 
 Clara had been lovers from childhood. Coasting 
 down the long hill roads in winter she was al- 
 ways on Will's sled, and each time when the par- 
 ties broke up he would draw her home. At
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 9 
 
 school if she had a knotty problem to solve, it 
 was always Will who helped her out. In the 
 summer he built her playhouses, brought her 
 candy and fought many a battle with other boys 
 who tried to do the same. In fact I recollect a 
 certain black eye I once received myself from 
 that source through over-confidence in my own 
 prowess. No attention was paid to this boy-and- 
 girl attachment by Mr. Mason, but after Clara 
 returned from boarding-school and it was re- 
 newed with vigor he sternly objected.
 
 10 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTEK H. 
 
 A DISAGREEMENT ON A DELICATE SUBJECT. 
 
 ONE morning at the breakfast table, after Miss 
 Wilkins had left the room, Clara noticed that 
 her father seemed to have something on his 
 mind. Several times he appeared about to speak 
 yet hesitated as though not knowing how to be- 
 gin. She quietly sipped her coffee and waited, 
 feeling sure from what she had said before that 
 it was in regard to Will. At last he burst out 
 abruptly: "Clara, I want you to have no more to 
 do with Will Benson. I have heard that you 
 and he are engaged and if this is true you must 
 break it off at once." 
 
 She had been expecting a command of this 
 kind, so, without answering his indirect ques- 
 tion, she asked in an antagonistic tone : 
 
 "What have you against Will?" 
 
 "I have nothing against him, but I have other 
 plans for you. I am comparatively poor and I 
 want you to marry some man of means so that 
 I shall know you will be comfortable after I drop 
 away. If you marry a poor man your lot will be 
 a hard one. It took about all I had to educate 
 you and I think you ought to consider your duty 
 to me." 
 
 "I do father/' answered Clara, "and I am
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 11 
 
 anxious to please you in every way. But \vould 
 you ask me to marry a man whom I did not 
 love?" 
 
 "Pooh! Love! Could you live on that? The 
 person I have in mind could give you all a 
 woman might wish for horses, carriages, fine 
 clothes, servants, society, travel, and all that 
 wealth can buy." 
 
 "That is an alluring prospect indeed," said 
 Clara with a smile. "Who is this Croesus?" 
 
 Mr. Mason frowned angrily at the flippant 
 manner in which she treated his long-considered 
 and deeply studied plan. 
 
 "Clara," said he, "I am talking to j'ou seri- 
 ously now, and I hope you will indulge in no 
 more sarcasm. You know very well I am study- 
 ing your best interests and I expect obedience 
 on your part." 
 
 An expression came into Clara's face which 
 proved that she could be as uncompromising as 
 her father. Without waiting for her to speak he 
 proceeded: "I have never told you why I came 
 to this secluded spot to pass my life and bring 
 up my daughter ostracized from the society of 
 intellectual people. Some day I may; but suffice 
 it to say now, that I had some trouble of a seri- 
 ous nature which, coupled with the death of your 
 mother, determined me to leave New York City 
 where the greater part of my life was spent. 
 That yarn about California satisfies the curiosity 
 of these rustics; but if they knew the real facts 
 they would despise me, no doubt. You see they 
 consider actions and not results. It was neces- 
 sary for me to tell you this much before going
 
 12 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 any further in the subject of importance just 
 now. While in New York I gave a friend a lift 
 which was the means of his laying the founda- 
 tion of a fortune. He has always been grateful 
 to me, and when I got into trouble he helped me 
 out and rendered such assistance as no one else 
 would have done. He is still a bachelor at fifty, 
 and the last time I saw him he asked about you, 
 and said he would like to see you. Said he, 'If 
 I could find a woman to suit me I would marry. 
 But those whom I have seen seem so made up for 
 the occasion, that I am almost despaired of ever 
 finding one that is real. I talked with him of 
 you, and he was very much interested. I am 
 satisfied that once he saw you, his heart would 
 be lost." 
 
 A storm of indignation raged in Clara's breast, 
 while her father was speaking, which threatened 
 to burst every instant. Was this her father 
 whom she had loved the greater because of the 
 loss of her other parent? Was this the man 
 whom of all men she had considered the soul of 
 honor, confessing without a blush that he had 
 ran away from possibly a crime, and in the 
 same breath asking her to marry the man that 
 had saved him from the consequences, and this 
 man nearly as old as himself? Her brain reeled, 
 and only by clutching the table did she save her- 
 self from falling to the floor. With a supreme 
 effort she controlled herself sufficiently to speak. 
 
 "Father, are you in your right mind, or have 
 you lost your senses entirely ? Do you expect 
 me to believe you in earnest? What have you 
 done? And to whom are you under such obliga-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 13 
 
 tions that you must needs bargain away your 
 daughter in payment as you propose?" 
 
 "There! There! You are exciting yourself 
 too much, "said he. ""We will say no more 
 about it now, there is plenty of time to think it 
 over." He had expected opposition to his 
 scheme but was unprepared for such questions as 
 these, and thinking he might have been too 
 abrupt and hasty, he decided to drop the subject 
 for a time. So, rising from his chair, he went 
 out into the street toward the post office, leaving 
 his daughter weeping bitterly. Miss Wilkins 
 came in to clear away the breakfast things, and 
 found the girl in tears with head lying on her 
 hands oblivious to everything butcher own grief. 
 "Why, what is the matter, dear?" said she, plac- 
 ing a hand on Clara's shoulder. "Why are you 
 in such a state? You were always so light- 
 hearted, it must be something very serious to 
 affect you so. What has your father said to 
 you? Tell me all Clara, you know you can trust 
 me with anything. If you were my own daugh- 
 ter I don't think I could love you more." 
 
 "My dear old nurse, " said Clara, straighten- 
 ing up with a grateful look, "I hope I am de- 
 serving of your affection. You have always 
 seemed like a mother to me. You know I was 
 only two years old when my mother died, and I 
 have no recollection of her. Tell me what 
 occurred during the year between my mother's 
 death and our arrival here." 
 
 With an eager gaze Clara scanned her face 
 awaiting an answer. 
 
 "I wish I could, Clara," said Miss Wilkins,
 
 14 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 wondering what had induced the question. "All 
 that I know is, that your father had trouble of 
 some kind about financial matters, I think, and 
 all at once without previous warning, discharged 
 the servants and packed off here in the greatest 
 of haste. You father used to keep a large house, 
 and there were grand dinners and wealthy guests. 
 He entertained in a lavish manner, and the peo- 
 ple who came appeared to feel highly honored. 
 I knew nothing of his business, except that he 
 had an office in Wall Street. "Why he came here 
 I can't understand. He made me promise to say 
 nothing to you after you grew up and I shouldn't 
 'if I didn't think he had been saying something 
 about it himself. Still, there is nothing of any 
 account I could say. He must have thought I 
 knew." 
 
 She stood musing a moment, absently stirring 
 a spoon in an empty cup. Then, as though her 
 thoughts had returned to the present, she said : 
 "You haven't told me why you felt so badly." 
 
 Anxious for sympathy, and hoping to receive 
 some encouraging suggestion, Clara began : 
 "Father said that a friend of his had helped him 
 out of trouble, and he wants me to marry this 
 man, who is nearly as old as himself. I am 
 afraid he has done some great wrong, and this 
 person has a hold on him that he can't shake off. 
 I would do anything to help father that I could 
 except this, for he has always been good to me ; 
 but you must know, if no one else does, that I 
 love Will Benson. He has told me often that 
 the hope of some day having a home of his own 
 with me as his wife has spurred him on to great-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 15 
 
 est exertion. I could never think of marrying 
 any other man, no matter how rich he might be. 
 I have been so happy thinking nothing could 
 come between Will and I. We have hoped to 
 get married as soon as he becomes a full-fledged 
 lawyer. What shall I do if father insists on my 
 obedience of his unnatural commands? He must 
 know I love Will, and he acts as though he had 
 no regard for my feelings whatever." 
 
 Miss Wilkins knitted her brows in thought, 
 while Clara waited impatiently for an answer. 
 "I'll tell you, Clara," said she after a little, 
 "what I think is best to do. Say nothing more 
 about it to your father until he mentions the 
 subject again. I feel sure he will wait some time, 
 after seeing how you were affected, and when he 
 does speak of it, we may be better able to tell 
 what to do. When Will comes home, which will 
 be in a couple of months, you can explain the 
 matter to him, and then we can make some 
 arrangements to prevent anything so terrible 
 happening. Don't worry any more about it. I 
 am sure it will come out all right in the end." 
 
 Clara embraced her dear old friend and wept 
 softly again; though the tears were a silent 
 shower of relief at the comforting words.
 
 16 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTEB HE. 
 
 THE DONATION PARTY. 
 
 ONE of the most formidable rivals of "Will Ben- 
 son, as he thought, was Walter Hart. Any girl 
 whose mirror speaks to her in flattering tones is 
 sure to possess a certain amount of coquettish- 
 ness, and Clara "was no exception to the rule. 
 
 "While she loved Will, it delighted her to tease 
 him occasionally, by graciously accepting Wal- 
 ter's only too-willing attentions. As Walter was 
 a fine-appearing young fellow and the son of a 
 well-to-do farmer, naturally Will was jealous. 
 Walter knew that he was not the favored suitor, 
 and yet he never gave up hopes. He lost no 
 opportunity to show his regard for Clara, for he 
 thought if it did himself no good, it would at 
 least anger Will. So you see "there was no love 
 lost between them. " An open rupture occurred 
 just before Will began studying law. 
 
 They were both at a barn "raising," and the 
 first "bent" had been put in place. As some of 
 my readers may not understand this I will make 
 a little explanation before going further : 
 
 In places where large trees were plentiful, it 
 was the custom, and I suppose is now, to use 
 hewn timbers for the framework of large build- 
 ings. Logs were drawn to the place of erection,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 17 
 
 squared with a "broad-ax, ' ' cut the proper lengths 
 and made into sills, posts, beams, plates and so 
 forth. Two corner posts "with intermediate ones 
 were mortised to a cross beam, and this was 
 raised upright at one end of the prospective 
 structure. The posts were pinned in the tenons 
 cut in the sill, and stayed by scantlings nailed 
 to them and to the foundation timbers. This 
 made the first bent, and the number of these 
 depended upon the size of the building. After 
 all the bents were up the long side plates were 
 put in place and the hardest work was done. As 
 the timbers were always large and heavy, a num- 
 ber of men with pike-poles were required to raise 
 them. Now to proceed. The first bent was up, 
 and in swinging his pike-pole to assist at the 
 next one, Will accidentally struck Walter a sharp 
 blow across the back. 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" cried Walter, 
 whose ill-feeling toward Will had been inflamed 
 by frequent potations of hard-cider, which, I am 
 sorry to say, was too often considered a neces- 
 sary element in accomplishing the work. 
 
 "It was unintentional Walter, I hope I didn't 
 hurt you?" 
 
 "You lie! You did it on purpose and you'll 
 have to fight." 
 
 "Don't be foolish, "said Will, "it was an acci- 
 dent and there is nothing to fight about." 
 
 Not caring to have any trouble he turned to 
 move away, when Walter sprang in front of him, 
 and struck him a stinging blow on the side of 
 his face with the palm of his hand. 
 
 "Now will you fight?" said Walter.
 
 13 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 This was more than human nature could stand. 
 And almost before he had finished the sentence 
 Will retaliated with his fist and brought Walter 
 to his knees. Eecovering himself instantly he 
 sprang at Will like a tiger. They grappled each 
 other and strained and swayed back and forth, 
 each striving to gain the mastery. They were 
 pretty evenly matched as to strength; but Will 
 was much the cooler. After about two minutes 
 of bending and twisting, Will suddenly changed 
 his hold, throwing his adversary to the ground 
 with a thud. As he fell Will caught him by 
 each wrist, threw his whole weight on his chest, 
 and held him pinned to the earth. 
 
 "Let me up," shouted W T alter. 
 
 "Not until you have promised to behave your- 
 self," answered Will firmly. 
 
 "Never. I will get up in spite of you," said 
 Walter, and straining every muscle to its utmost 
 tension he tried to release himself, but without 
 avail. Coming to the conclusion that discretion 
 was the better part of valor, especially when 
 valor was at a discount, he promised to be quiet. 
 He got upon his feet and without a word left for 
 home, and for several days "carried his eye in a 
 sling." 
 
 The conversation between Clara and her father, 
 which had caused her so much distress of mind, 
 occurred in the month of January. A week had 
 passed and nothing more had been said by Mr. 
 Mason in regard to that, to her, unpleasant sub- 
 ject, and she was once more in her usual good 
 spirits, having been so much encouraged by 
 Miss Wilkins. It was the time of winter festivi-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 19 
 
 ties and the young people were about the only 
 ones who thoroughly enjoyed them, their elders 
 preferring to stay at home and toast their shins by 
 a warm fire. The preachers or "dominies" were 
 paid so little money that, without extra assist- 
 ance, they would have had very short rations 
 during the winter months. So, to make up the 
 shortage "donation parties" were given for their 
 benefit. Anything that could be eaten, worn, or 
 used as fuel was acceptable. There was to be a 
 
 party of this kind in M and Walter Hart had 
 
 invited Clara to go. She had told him she 
 "would think it over." Two or three days after- 
 ward she asked Miss Wilkins what to do in re- 
 gard to it. "Why go, " was the answer. "What 
 is the use of your moping at home. You will 
 have a nice time there, for you know so many of 
 
 the young people in M , and I believe a lot 
 
 are going from here." 
 
 "I should like to go, " said Clara, "but you 
 know Will doesn't like Walter, and I am afraid 
 he might be angry. Still, Walter has such a 
 nice horse and cutter, and the sleighing is so 
 good I declare T shall go anyhow. Will is not 
 here to take me and I don't care whether he is 
 angry or not." 
 
 So it was settled. But if Clara could have 
 known what would result from her decision, how 
 much pain and annoyance she might have saved 
 herself. The next day Walter called for her 
 answer, which was in the affirmative, and of 
 course highly pleasing to him. When the even- 
 ing of the party arrived, Walter drove up in 
 front of the house, with a fine spirited horse, and
 
 20 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 a cutter with sides that shone like polished mir- 
 rors. Clara knew she would be envied by all the 
 girls there, yet a pang shot through her heart as 
 she thought of Will. If he could see her now, 
 would he think she cared less for show than 
 worth? She was afraid not. Yet he would 
 never doubt her faithfulness, and she could ex- 
 plain it satisfactorily afterward. The rythmic 
 jingle of the bells, and the swift gliding motion 
 soon produced an exhilaration that caused 
 her to forget her misgivings. They had started 
 before dark, and the sky was overcast and heavy. 
 Of that dull leaden color which generally por- 
 tends a storm of considerable magnitude. Clara 
 did not notice it until after quite a distance had 
 been passed, when, on looking up, she exclaimed : 
 "Why, Walter. Look at the sky! We are going 
 to have a heavy snowstorm. Don't you think 
 we had better turn back?" 
 
 "Oh, no," answered he nonchalantly, "it 
 won't amount to much." 
 
 Walter had noticed the ominous signs, but 
 being determined to go and take Clara, he had 
 called for her long before the proper time. He 
 drove at such speed that they arrived at the par- 
 sonage away ahead of any one else. The minis- 
 ter's wife, Mrs. Wood, came out as they drew up 
 at the gate, and her greeting was very cordial, 
 for she had known Clara long before her mar- 
 riage to the young graduate of "Starkey, " who 
 was occupying his first charge. Taking Clara 
 into the warm sitting room, she said : 
 
 "I am glad you came early; we can have a 
 chance to visit a little before the others come."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 21 
 
 Walter carried in the packages they had brought 
 and also gave Mrs. Wood a five-dollar bill, for 
 which she thanked him very profusely. 
 
 He went to put his horse in the hotel stable 
 
 (one of the advantages of M ), congratulating 
 
 himself meanwhile upon his success. The five 
 dollars, he thought, would so influence the min- 
 ister's wife that she would be sure to help his 
 cause with Clara, and he was not wrong. She 
 tried her best, though without the desired re- 
 sults. "I will win her yet," said he to himself, 
 "but I must be careful. She has queer notions 
 of propriety. What could that poor devil, Will, 
 give her? 'A bed of straw, a crust of bread, and 
 a man.' ' Being in such good humor with him- 
 self, he was on the verge of going in to the bar 
 and drinking to the success of his plans, when the 
 matter of breath occurred to him. "No, " said 
 he, "it would never do, she would smell it. Be- 
 side if I took one I should want more. I must 
 be on my good behavior, so I had better not." 
 
 "I think j'ou are the luckiest girl in the world 
 Clara," said Mrs. Wood after Walter had gone 
 out of the room, leaving her turning over the 
 note in her hands, "he is so generous and such 
 a handsome fellow. He must have lots of money 
 too," said she, reflectively folding the bill and 
 placing it in an empty sugar-bowl in the china 
 closet. 
 
 Clara paled slightly as she thought of the pos- 
 sible misunderstandings and complications that 
 might arise, and said: "I wish you wouldn't 
 talk that way he's nothing to me, but one 
 would infer, on hearing you, that we are en- 
 gaged."
 
 22 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "I am sure I meant no barm, dear," said Mrs. 
 Wood, "and I am surprised at the way you take 
 it. Many a girl would be glad to have your 
 chance; and I don't think you could do better." 
 
 "You married Mr. Wood because you loved 
 him didn't you, Sarah?" asked Clara in a half- 
 offended tone. 
 
 "Of course," was the answer. 
 
 "That will be my reason, for without it I shall 
 never marry at all." 
 
 As she said this Clara thought of her father. 
 What if W 7 ill were angry with her, and her father 
 insisted on carrying out his plans? Surely it 
 would not do to anger Will now. Why had she 
 not thought of this before starting? A severe 
 headache would have been a sufficient excuse for 
 not going, but it was too late to think of that 
 now. "Do you love any one, Clara? You know 
 we used to be quite confidential, but you seem 
 different somehow now. Have you had any 
 trouble?" 
 
 "You ask too many questions," said Clara 
 with a faint smile of annoyance. "If I ever do 
 get married I shall surely invite you." 
 
 Mrs. Wood looked at her with a puzzled ex- 
 pression. Was this the vivacious, fun-loving 
 Clara Mason she had known? Something was 
 wrong certainly; but as Clara deigned to make 
 no explanation, she kissed her affectionately and 
 said: "Forgive me if I have vexed you with my 
 silliness. I hear some one coming so I shall have 
 to go. Try to get rid of the dumps and have a 
 good time." 
 
 The guests began to arrive, and Clara was soon
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 23 
 
 in the midst of a lot of friends all glad to see 
 her, and all talking at once as onb' girls can do. 
 (I should have modified that expression for I 
 think they ne^er quite lose the habit.) She was 
 the center of attraction, and before long had be- 
 come as merry as the merriest. Many of the 
 girls envied not only her beauty, but the posses- 
 sion of such a handsome escort, who had eyes for 
 no one else. Everything went nicely and all 
 seemed to enjoy themselves. The contributions 
 were large, and as a consequence the "dominie" 
 and his wife were beaming with happiness. 
 
 A humorous incident occurred before Walter 
 returned from "putting out his horse," and the 
 person most interested was probably the only 
 one whose enjoyment was marred. Hezekiah 
 Jones, one of the stanchest pillars of the 
 church, brought a barrel of potatoes in his 
 sleigh, and Mr. Wood helped him to carry it in. 
 The only way to get it into the cellar was 
 through a trapdoor in the floor of the kitchen. 
 The flight of stairs was nearly perpendicular. 
 "Kiar" went down a couple of steps and Mr. 
 Wood balanced the barrel on the edge of the 
 opening. Somebody or something slipped, and 
 down went Hezekiah, with potatoes, dirt, and 
 barrel on top. After some struggling, and sad 
 to relate swearing, he extricated himself. 
 
 "Are you hurt, Brother Jones?" asked the 
 reverend. 
 
 "No, dominie I ain't," answered "Kiar" climb- 
 ing out of the obscurity, "but that consarned 
 thing made me mad." 
 
 "I am afraid, brother, you allowed yourself to 
 use some very unchristian language."
 
 24 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Well, dominie," said Jones, shaking and 
 brushing himself vigorously while he looked 
 "sheepish," "ef yeou got a bushel o' clay loom 
 doawn th' back o' yeour neck, an' s'pilt yeour 
 Sunday clothes, t' say nothin' o' ruinin' th' only 
 b'iled shirt yeouhed,! guess yeou'd swear tew." 
 
 "We must ever keep our armor on, for the 
 devil is always on the \vatch, " said Mr. Wood, 
 scarcely repressing a smile.
 
 A COUNTRY TRACED V. 25 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SNOW-BOUND. 
 
 CLARA noticed that but few from H were at 
 
 the donation party, still she thought little of it 
 until late in the evening on finding they had 
 gone. Mrs. Wood had purposely left her alone 
 with Walter in the little parlor, having taken the 
 few remaining persons to another room, and now 
 that the evening's excitement was over she be- 
 gan to think of going home. Rising from the 
 table, where she had sat glancing through a book 
 of poems, Clara went to the door, opened it and 
 looked out. It was snowing heavily, and the 
 wind in gusts and whirls was howling with fury, 
 while the dense blackness cut short her vision at 
 the line of light streaming from the room. 
 
 "Ohl what an awful night!" she exclaimed, 
 closing the door just in time to save the light 
 from being extinguished and herself covered 
 with snow, as an extra strong blast struck the 
 building. Turning to Walter who was smiling 
 and evidently pleased at the situation, she asked 
 in an anxious voice. 
 
 "What shall we do?" 
 
 "It would never do to attempt going home to- 
 night," answered he in an unconcerned manner. 
 "The dugway is dangerous enough at any time,
 
 26 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 but now it would be almost certain death to try 
 to pass it in this blinding snowstorm." 
 
 The place which he mentioned was a piece of 
 road dug around the brow of a mountain about 
 halfway between the two villages. 
 
 It was narrow, and two vehicles going in op- 
 posite directions could not pass except in one 
 place near the middle, and not even there if 
 there happened to be much snow or ice. 
 
 Over the side was nearly a hundred feet of al- 
 most sheer precipice down to the stream at the 
 mountain's foot. The most foolhardy person 
 would not attempt to cione this treacherous way 
 on such a night. Clara bad not thought of the 
 dugway, and as he spoke of it she turned pale 
 and shuddered. The next instant her eyes 
 emitted an angry flash that boded ill for Walter's 
 cherished hopes. 
 
 "Walter Hart," she cried fiercely, "you knew 
 there was going to be a severe storm, and why 
 didn't you turn back when I called your attention 
 to the sky ? Oh ! What will those gossips of 
 
 H say about me if I have to stay here all 
 
 night?" 
 
 "Never mind what they say," said he, and 
 then went on in a passionate tone. "Clara, let 
 me shield you from all the storms and troubles 
 of life. I love you, darling, sincerely and truly, 
 and if you will be my wife, no exertion will be 
 too great for me in trying to make you happy. 
 I confess I did think it would be a hard storm, 
 but I could not lose such an opportunity as I 
 knew would be presented if we came. We are 
 at the minister's house, why not let him marry
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 27 
 
 us to-night and then it will make no difference 
 what the gossips may say?" 
 
 Clara stood mute with indignation and aston- 
 ishment, while he rattled on in this impudent 
 and audacious manner. 
 
 "You have allowed your conceit and assurance 
 to carry you very far indeed," said she, scarlet 
 with anger, when he stopped out of breath. "If 
 I had thought you possessed so little sense of 
 honor as you have shown, I am sure I should 
 never have come with you. Leave me at once 
 and never trouble me with your presence again." 
 
 Chagrined and crestfallen, Walter saw that his 
 last chance was gone, and he determined to do 
 all he could to interfere with the success of his 
 rival. 
 
 "Well, Clara," said he, "if this is your 
 decision, I will go. But you may have reason to 
 remember my disappointment. " With this veiled 
 threat he left the room and the house, without 
 another word to ans'body. When Mrs. Wood 
 came in, she found Clara lying on the sofa 
 sobbing. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter?" she asked, kneel- 
 ing down beside the weeping girl, "where is 
 Walter? What is wrong between you?" 
 
 Eaising herself to a sitting posture Clara ex- 
 claimed: "Walter Hatt is a brute to treat me as 
 he has done! Have you noticed how it is storm- 
 ing outside? I spoke to him about the appear- 
 ance of the weather when we started and he said 
 it would amount to nothing. He drove his 
 horse as faat as he could to get here before the 
 storm began, for fear I would insist on turning
 
 28 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 back. He knows how people will talk about my 
 staying here all night, and that is not all. A 
 few minutes ago he proposed to me and said Mr. 
 Wood could marry us to-night. As though I 
 would do such a thing even if I did care for him ! 
 Engaged and married almost in the same instant! 
 Did you ever hear of such presumption before? 
 I can't understand what possessed me to come 
 with him." 
 
 "It \vas very wrong of him, to be sure," said 
 Mrs. Wood, "but Walter is heels over head in 
 love with [you, and I suppose he thought a des- 
 perate attempt to win was better than none at 
 all. What did you say to the poor fellow?" 
 
 "Poor fellow indeed!" exclaimed Clara, flush- 
 ing hotly that Mrs. Wood should sympathize 
 with him. "I am astonished at you, Sarah! 
 How can you ask what I said to him?" 
 
 "Oh! I see it now," said Mrs. Wood with a 
 look of intelligence. "Will Benson's the fortu- 
 nate man who has won your heart. It's strange 
 I didn't think of him before. He is a very de- 
 serving young man, but he is poor. You don't 
 know what it is to be the wife of a struggling 
 professional man. We women are strange crea- 
 tures. We love a man almost without knowing 
 why, and often think how much better off we 
 could have been had we married some one else." 
 
 This sweet little woman was only talking. No 
 one could have persuaded her that her husband 
 was not the very best and the most clever man 
 in the world. She seemed to have a prejudice 
 in favor of Walter, and knowing this, Clara gave 
 no heed to these remarks, which many would
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 29 
 
 have considered unbecoming in a minister's 
 wife. 
 
 "Think no more about it now, dear. It's get- 
 ting late and you'd better retire. I'll put you 
 in my spare bed upstairs. There is no stove in 
 the room, but I have plenty of thick quilts." 
 This was said in the usual motherly way of 
 young married women when addressing their 
 single sisters. 
 
 Clara was quite refreshed the next morning. 
 She had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head 
 touched the pillow. Notwithstanding her dis- 
 turbance of mind, tired nature had asserted 
 itself. 
 
 The storm had passed, and the sky was "as 
 clear as a bell." The snow was drifted and 
 piled high against houses, barns, and fences, 
 and when Clara plucked up enough courage to 
 get out of the warm bed and dress herself; she 
 saw, through the window, the villagers shoveling 
 away at a lively rate, some of them head-deep in 
 the mass of glistening whiteness. 
 
 Nature presents an entrancing appearance on 
 a clear, cold morning after a heavy snowfall, 
 when the sun's rays sparkle on the countless 
 millions of flakes, aggregated into a vast mantle 
 of divine purity. The mind and thoughts of 
 this lovely girl were not less unsullied than the 
 scene at which she gazed with mingled admira- 
 tion and apprehension. What trouble for her 
 might there yet be in store, of which this inno- 
 cent-looking snow would be the cause? Fear of 
 scandal had never caused her anxiety before and 
 only the possibility of Will's anger, at the time
 
 3() A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 when she might be sorely in need of his help, 
 produced it now. And, too, her strength of 
 mind and will had not reached the development 
 which circumstances soon afterward brought 
 
 about. Those from H who were at the 
 
 donation party had not taken the dugway road 
 on returning home, but had crossed the stream 
 below, and followed the old one, which went 
 into disuse at the time the shorter route was 
 completed. Starting early they had escaped the 
 storm's greatest severitj', and Walter might have 
 done this too, but it did not accord with his 
 plans. After leaving Clara he went to the hotel, 
 engaged a room, and proceeded to fill himself 
 with intoxicants at the bar. When too drunk to 
 stand he was bundled up to his room and put in 
 bed. Thus for the time being he drowned his 
 disappointment and vexation. The next morning 
 about ten o'clock he awoke with a head that felt 
 "as big as a bushel basket." Sick, angry, and 
 displeased with himself, Walter saw that while 
 strong drink relieves the troubled mind as long 
 as the stupefy ing effect remains, it only increases 
 the difficulty by adding physical discomfort 
 when the brain has regained its normal condi- 
 tion. Having arrived at this conclusion he 
 wisely determined to drink no more. 
 
 John Short, the mail carrier, lived in H , 
 
 from whence he went in the morning to M , 
 
 returning in the afternoon. He was a model of 
 faithfulness, for nothing prevented him from 
 making his daily trip. 
 
 Did an axle break or a wheel give out, he 
 would unhitch his horses, sling the mailbag over
 
 A COtJNTRY TRAGEDY. 31 
 
 one, mount the other and push ahead. No 
 storms were too severe for him to start, and no 
 snowbanks too deep for him to penetrate. He 
 always carried a shovel in winter and would dig 
 his way through if it took all day. By carrying 
 passengers, doing errands and making purchases 
 for the wayside dwellers, he turned a neat penny, 
 and, as a matter of course his facilities for ob- 
 taining the news were unequaled by any one in 
 the community. He was the constant envy of 
 Bosh Warton, who, when he thought he was the 
 first to impart some delectable bit of scandal, 
 would be met with the remark: 
 
 "Oh ! I've heard that before. John Short told 
 me last night." 
 
 Gossiping is nearly always lain to the women, 
 but in this place, as I know from unpleasant ex- 
 perience, they were obliged to take the rear; 
 Did a farmer leave the store in the evening, his 
 condition and prospects were discussed to a final 
 conclusion, and the last to leave was the last 
 talked about, until not two men remained to 
 keep it up. These were the regular loungers, 
 who could talk money and property in the off- 
 hand way of men accustomed to handling little 
 of either, and those of the neighborhood having 
 more of both than themselves were most often 
 the victims of their spleen. 
 
 This was very much to the annoyance of the 
 storekeeper (Mr. Young), but some of them were 
 occasional customers, and it would not have been 
 good policy to offend their, of course, sensitive 
 feelings, by protesting against it, though he 
 sometimes did, in a guarded way.
 
 32 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 On the morning in question, as usual, every- 
 one turned out to break roads. The snow had 
 drifted between the road fences, in many places 
 level with the tops, and was blown almost clear 
 again from some of the fields, making it often 
 easier to go "across lots" than to shovel open 
 the proper way. With a great deal of labor on 
 his own part and much assistance from the will- 
 ing helpers along the route, Short managed to 
 
 get through to M about one o'clock. Going 
 
 down "Main Street" toward the post office, he 
 passed Walter who had started for home. 
 
 "Hello, Walt," he shouted, " where 's yer 
 gal?" 
 
 "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no 
 lies," hurled back Walter, striking his horse 
 savagely with the whip. 
 
 "Great snakes an' June-bugs!" exclaimed 
 Short turning to look after the flying cutter, 
 "what in th' name o' granny-grunt ails th* boy? 
 Sumthin's wrong that's sartin sure." 
 
 Here was a chance to get a dainty morsel and 
 he was first on the spot. After scouring about 
 town for some time, in an insidious but unsuc- 
 cessful quest of information which might satisfy 
 his newly-awakened curiosity, Short got the re- 
 turn mail, and drove over to the hotel after his 
 usual frost antidote, and to look for passengers. 
 He found Clara Mason waiting in the parlor, 
 and on seeing him she came out and climbed 
 into the sleigh. 
 
 After they started, Short began to ply her 
 with questions, as she had expected, and which 
 she intended to ignore as much as possible. It's
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 33 
 
 a difficult matter to evade the interrogations of a 
 professional newsmonger be he "running on his 
 own hook" or connected with a paper. "I won- 
 der what's th' matter with Walt?" asked Short. 
 "I passed him comin' down an' he was es mad 
 es a settin' hen about sumthin 'er other. I spoke 
 to him an' he snapped me up an' went tearin' up 
 th' street alickin' his hoss like Satan. He kinder 
 looked t' me es if he'd b'en drinkin'. Didn't 
 yeou come daown with him last night?" 
 
 "Yes, "answered Clara scarcely able to conceal 
 her vexation. "It stormed so that we couldn't 
 go back and I stayed with Mrs. Wood." 
 
 "Haow is it yeou didn't go back with Walt, 
 t'day?" asked Short, looking at her quizzically. 
 "Because I preferred to go with you," was the 
 unsatisfactory answer. 
 
 "Gosh! I must a' got mighty good-lookin' all 
 of a suddent!" exclaimed the irrepressible stage- 
 driver while Clara frowned. "Didn't have no 
 kind o' fuss did y'u?" 
 
 "Mr. Short," said Clara, now thoroughly 
 angered, "I didn't know that you had been ap- 
 pointed my father confessor." 
 
 "Land sakes," said he, "I don't know what 
 yeou're drivin' at." 
 
 "Never mind what; but I don't care to be 
 catechised any further. I shall answer no more 
 of your impertinent questions." 
 
 He subsided into silence after this, and his 
 mental conclusions were. "All-fired techy ain't 
 she?" "Kain't make no head ner tail to her." 
 "Dern putty gal though an' no mistake." "No 
 wonder th' fellers is all arter her."
 
 34 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Nothing more was said by either of them, and 
 after handing out the mail to the postmaster 
 
 on arriving in H , Short took Clara to her 
 
 home. Miss Wilkins greeted her with a kiss 
 and said: "Wasn't it a terrible storm! I was 
 worried for fear you would start last night and I 
 have been watching for you since noon. I knew 
 you couldn't get through sooner." 
 
 "Yes, it was a severe storm," said Clara, re- 
 moving her wraps, "and "Walter Hart knew it 
 was coming too. I wanted him to turn back, 
 but he only drove the faster, for he had an object 
 in view which he failed to accomplish." Clara 
 then told her all that had transpired, and ended 
 by saying : 
 
 "I am so sorry I went. John Short asked me 
 a lot of questions, and I know he will spread 
 some kind of a story that will make disagreeable 
 talk. If I knew Will wouldn't be angry, I 
 should care very little about it; but I am afraid 
 he will. If I had gone with any one except Wal- 
 ter, there would be less danger of his being 
 offended." 
 
 "You must write to him at once," said Miss 
 Wilkins, "and explain it all, but don't tell him 
 that Walter proposed to you, for there is no 
 need of adding fuel to the flame. Make sure 
 that Will hears from you before he does from 
 any one else." This was the proper thing to do 
 to be sure, yet the perversity of fate, or circum- 
 stance, or something interfered, as it very often 
 does, and caused two hearts to ache for many a 
 day.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "WHY DID HE NOT WRITES?" 
 
 HALF a dozen men were in the store, on the 
 evening after the occurrences recorded in the last 
 chapter, perched on stools and boxes as close to 
 the stove as they could get, for it was a cold 
 night. The proprietor had tried to break up 
 their sedentary habit by removing everything 
 seatable except the counters on either side, but 
 they had taken to these with the greatest of sang 
 froid, so he thought, it better to furnish them 
 seats again, where they would be less likely to 
 break a showcase or spoil a piece of calico. A 
 discussion had been going on for some time, as 
 to whether or no the president's last message 
 was an able document, when the door opened 
 and Bosh "YYarton and John Short came in. 
 They were engaged in a loud conversation, in fact 
 so loud that the others stopped to listen. 
 
 "I tell y'u what John," said Bosh, "I b'lieve 
 they're married. Pete Smith told me, thet Bill 
 Hen Wilson told him, that Walt said they was, 
 so naow yeou've got hit jest .es cheap es I hev. " 
 
 "Waal then w'y didn't they cum hum 
 t'gether?" asked Short. "W'en I driv daown 
 t' th tavern she wus awaitin' fer me there. I 
 passed Walt on th' way daown, an' he was mad-
 
 36 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 der'n hops. Arter we hed started I ask her 
 sumthin' abaout Walt an' she got uppish in a 
 wink. She said sumthin' abaout her father con- 
 fessin', er confess' t' her father sumthin' er other 
 like thet; I c'u'dn't make nothin' aout on't. " 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" exclaimed Bosh, "thet 
 does look quare don't it? What d'yeou 'spose 
 she's goin' t' confess?" 
 
 "I don't know nothin' 'baout it I tell y' u," 
 answered Short, "an' yeou don't want t'go 
 araound sayin' I sed so an' so fer I haint told 
 you nothin'." 
 
 "W'y yaas yeou hev, " said Bosh. One of the 
 others then broke in with the remark : 
 
 "Ef they hain't married b'gosh they ort t' be. 
 She's allus b'en so all fired prim I guess this'll 
 fetch her daown a peg. These birds thet flies 
 high allus lights low." 
 
 "There's sumthin' funny 'baout Hen Mason," 
 says Bosh, "he 'pears t' feel a darn sight big- 
 ger'n anybody else 'raond here, an' I s'pose it's 
 'cause he's got raonej'. Fer my part I think I'm 
 jest es good es enny other man an" I won't let 
 nobody put on airs 'raound me." 
 
 "A man wouldn't 'maount t' much ef he wasn't 
 better 'n yeou," said Pete Smith who was sitting 
 behind the stove where Bosh had not noticed 
 him. "Yeou kin lie f aster 'n a hoss kin trot. I 
 never told yeou nothin' of th' kind that yeou jest 
 sed." 
 
 "Hello, Pete! cried Bosh with a start. "By 
 gum! Say, I'll haf t' ax yer pardon fer thet, 
 'cause naow I recommember it wus somebody 
 else told me; but who in darnation I kaint
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 37 
 
 think. I don't bl'ieve it naow though, since 
 Short sez it ain't so." 
 
 "Sez what ain't so?" asked the last named 
 worthy, turning from the stove, where he had 
 stood warming his hands. 
 
 " Wy thet the're married. An' yeou ensiny- 
 uated thet it looked kinder curis o' them not 
 comin' hum t'gether arter stayin' all night tew 
 th' tavern, an' thet she was goiu' t' confess t' her 
 father." 
 
 "Yeou 'tarnal old liar!" cried Short, red and 
 threatening, "fer two cents I'd swat yeour jaw 
 clean off." 
 
 Bosh slid along the counter toward a corner, 
 while Short followed, apparently about to anni- 
 hilate him. 
 
 "Hold on there boys," interposed Mr. Young, 
 "I guess you've gone far enough." 
 
 "Yaas," said Pete Smith sarcastically, "they 
 might kill each other." 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," 
 went on Mr. Young addressing Bosh and Short, 
 "trying to start a scandal about a young girl 
 who has always borne a good character. The 
 whole amount of it is they stayed late at the 
 party and were afraid to start home in the storm. 
 Clara stopped all night at the dominie's and 
 Walter at the hotel." 
 
 Then looking at his watch he resumed : "It's 
 getting late and I'll have to close up." 
 
 Bosh put the stove between himself and Short, 
 which position he kept until his blustering 
 antagonist had gone, when he filed out with the 
 others who were gibing him for his lack of cour-
 
 38 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 age. Such idle talk as this is sure to do harm, 
 for people will say, although nothing they have 
 heard may be true, that "where there's smoke 
 there must be fire." . 
 
 Insinuations are often almost as injurious as 
 direct accusations for, like the Scotch verdict, 
 "not proven," they leave an unfavorable doubt, 
 and even the truth is sometimes so perverted as 
 to appear directly the contrary of the actual fact. 
 This was once conclusively proven to my entire 
 satisfaction, or rather, I should say, to my dis- 
 satisfaction. 
 
 I was at one time teaching in an old town, 
 situated among most picturesque and romantic 
 surroundings, and one afternoon a young lady of 
 my acquaintance strolled with me to an ancient, 
 grave-sunken cemetery, on a hilltop overlooking 
 the village, "where the rude forefathers of the 
 hairnet sleep." After scraping away the moss 
 from the time-worn headstones, we amused our- 
 selves by deciphering the nearly obliterated 
 inscriptions and epitaphs. This, to us, interest- 
 ing occupation, soon brought to mind that most 
 beautiful of poems, Gray's "Elegy," the most of 
 which we managed to recall. Thus two hours 
 or more were pleasantly spent, and just as the 
 sun was dropping behind the distant purple 
 hills, we sat down on the grassy slope to admire 
 its lingering splendor. The valley lay in somber 
 shadow making the houses fields, and streams 
 appear dim and indistinct, while yet the last 
 brightness illumined the western sky. As the 
 thin fleece of clouds broke up and vanished, the 
 gold and crimson gradually faded to an exquisite
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 30 
 
 opal, which in turn gave way to the star-studded 
 azure of twilight. 
 
 The changing of the tints was so even, so 
 smooth, and so almost imperceptible, that the 
 effects produced were beyou'd the most sanguin- 
 ary dreams of artistic skill. 
 
 Nature lays her colors on, 
 
 With lavish hand and true. 
 No brush can paint with equal skill, 
 
 As nature's hand can do. 
 
 Our only thoughts were those inspired by the 
 time, the place, and the scene, and, to be sure, 
 of the purest most exalted nature. As darkness 
 fell we walked back to town. Some evil-minded 
 person saw us and although he said nothing un- 
 true, the inference was unmistakable. I could 
 never trace the story to its source. This one 
 had heard it from that one, that one had heard 
 it from the other one, and so on ad inftnitum. 
 To resume the thread of our story. Clara wrote 
 to Will, telling him all except the proposal of 
 Walter, as Miss Wilkins had counseled. She 
 addressed the letter carefully and mailed it with 
 a sigh of relief. Nothing more could be done, 
 and knowing Will so well, she felt no anxiety as 
 to what might be said by others. A week, a 
 month passed and she heard nothing from him. 
 Why did he not write? Was he angry? If he 
 had heard anything from other sources and be- 
 lieved it, instead of the truth, which he ought to 
 know she would tell, then let him! She would 
 write him no more about it. Another month 
 went by and no letter came from Will. Oh those
 
 40 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 long, dreary days! They seemed to drag with 
 the weariness of despair. The weather was an 
 almost complete succession of storms, and Clara 
 was obliged to stay indoors, which gave her no 
 opportunity to get away from her sorrow. No 
 matter how badly one may feel a brisk walk in 
 the open air is sure to afford a certain amount of 
 relief. The weather seemed conspiring to in- 
 crease her grief. She grew more wan and silent 
 as the days went on and Miss Wilkins often 
 found her in tears. "Why don't you write 
 again?" she asked Clara. 
 
 "If he has heard anything and hasn't received 
 my letter, why doesn't he ask an explanation?" 
 was the interrogative answer. "He has proba- 
 bly found some one whom he prefers to me." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," said Miss "Wilkins. 
 There is some mistake or misunderstanding, and 
 when he comes home soon, he'll be sure to come 
 and see you, and then you can set everything 
 right. Why you're worrying yourself to death, 
 and you must stop it. " This gave Clara very 
 little consolation, for she was imbued with the 
 idea that some other girl had won his affections 
 away from her. 
 
 Will Benson was left an orphan at the age of 
 five, and, as stated before, was adopted by a 
 farmer, living near the village, who, though 
 poor, had done the best for him his limited means 
 would allow. Will had always been quiet and 
 studious, caring more for books than sports, yet 
 at the same time having a fondness for farm 
 work which had given him his fine physique. 
 During the spring, summer, and autumn months
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 41 
 
 after he grew large enough he worked for his 
 adopted father and different ones around the 
 place. He was allowed to keep all his earnings, 
 so that, flhen he decided to study law, there was 
 a sufficient sum to give him a good start. 
 
 Spring had returned in earnest, and the man- 
 tle of green was evenly spread before Will ap- 
 peared again in H . He had studied harder 
 
 and stayed longer this season than was his wont. 
 Something, too, beside his studies had kept 
 him away. A ghastly doubt, from which he 
 could not get clear, made him dread to face what 
 might be a terrible reality. 
 
 When I recall those days it seems that I can 
 see again the bursting buds, the starting grass, 
 and all the indications of the resurrection of 
 nature. Some of us, who are wearing our lives 
 away surrounded by brick and stone walls, 
 racket and din, look back and sigh for those 
 scenes in vain. 
 
 Now we know it is spring only when the 
 dealers in early Southern green-goods come 
 hawking their wares about, and some one tells us 
 the leaves are out in the park, or, we may see an 
 occasional half-starved tree, with its roots her- 
 metically sealed in the earth by the relentless 
 paving stones, partially covered with scattered 
 foliage. What a weary life it is for those chil- 
 dren of the tenements, who see and know only 
 the pinch of poverty and cold in winter, and 
 whose only playgrounds in summer are the roofs 
 and streets, covered and filled with vice and dirt. 
 
 Clara heard that Will was home, but she had 
 not seen him. Should she smother her pride
 
 42 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 and go to him ? Never. Why should she ? If 
 he had no confidence he had no love. And 
 then, there might be another girl. She was but 
 the shadow of her former self. Her rounded 
 figure had grown thin and her cheeks usually so 
 rosy were now devoid of color. Such is the 
 effect of the mind on the physical system. Peace 
 of mind goes hand in hand with health. 
 
 Mr. Mason had said but very little to Clara. 
 He had made no attempt to plant his garden, 
 but spent most of the time in his room or at the 
 post office waiting for the mail. He was more 
 silent and morose than ever. Clara had not 
 noticed this for she was too much engrossed with 
 her own trouble. Miss Wilkins persuaded her 
 to take long walks, when the weather was fine, 
 thinking she might be benefited, but there 
 seemed to be no improvement. Hers was the 
 kind of melancholy that sometimes proves fatal, 
 and for which there is but one remedy.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ANONYMOUS LETTEB. 
 
 ONE afternoon Clara climbed the hill road 
 south of the village, and sat down at the side of 
 it in the shade of a large tree. This was a fav- 
 orite trysting place, and the rough board bench 
 against the ample trunk had been worn smooth 
 by continual use. Names and initials in couplets, 
 with hearts and arrows galore, were cut in the 
 smooth bark of the old beech that had listened 
 to lovers' tales for years. This was the very 
 worst place she could have gone, for all the ten- 
 der associations connected with this spot were 
 brought to mind and helped to increase her 
 misery, still, it was well that she came. With a 
 listless eye she looked out at the scene, staring 
 hard yet seeing nothing. The day was bright, 
 men were at work in the fields, the birds were 
 singing and under different circumstances she 
 would have been pleased and interested, but now 
 she saw as one in a dream. For fully ten min- 
 utes Clara sat, scarcely moving, gazing into 
 vacancy, when a step sounded near and starting 
 from her reverie she sprang up. Will Benson 
 was standing before her. Both were taken by 
 surprise, he having been as much preoccupied 
 by unpleasant thoughts as she, and the tree had
 
 44 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 concealed her from view as he came down the 
 hill. 
 
 "Will!" 
 
 "Clara!" 
 
 They exclaimed at the same instant. 
 
 "You frightened me," she said, trying to ap- 
 pear indifferent. 
 
 "Did I?" asked he coldly, "I am sorry." 
 
 Then turning to go away "don't allow me to 
 disturb your meditations. I didn't know you 
 were here." 
 
 He took a few steps and, as she saw that he 
 was going, Clara summoned courage to call : 
 
 "Will!" 
 
 He came slowly back not daring to look at her 
 for fear of losing his self-control. 
 
 "Didn't you get my letter?" she asked, her 
 voice disclosing the tears her pride was holding 
 in check. This he did not or would not notice, 
 although far from self-possessed himself, so his 
 answer seemed to her harsh and unfeeling. 
 
 "I received a letter, but not from you." 
 
 So, her fears in regard to "another girl" 
 were groundless, for the whole trouble had been 
 caused by a mischievous letter her own having 
 doubtless gone astray. This thought eased her 
 mind very much, but she was not prepared for 
 what followed. 
 
 "What did the letter say?" she asked. 
 
 Still avoiding her eyes he put his hand in the 
 inner pocket of his coat drew forth an envelope 
 and held it out. With a trembling hand she 
 took it and removing the sheet of note paper un- 
 folded it and read :
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 45 
 
 "MB. WM. BENSON: Tour lovely, virtuous Clara 
 went to a party in M with "Walter Hart, 
 and after it was over they stayed the rest of the 
 night at the hotel. 
 
 "Yours warningly, 
 
 "ON PIT." 
 
 As the damnable import of this scandalous 
 note of one sentence with it's puzzling signature 
 dawned upon her, she fell unconscious to the 
 ground. Her already weakened nerves were un- 
 able to stand this latest strain, and the climax 
 had come. 
 
 "My God!" cried Will, "what have I done? 
 Have I killed mj r darling?" 
 
 Laying her carefully on the soft grass he ran 
 to where a little rivulet trickled musically down 
 beside the road, filled his hat with water and 
 dashed it in her face. Then loosening her dress 
 at the throat he chafed her hands, talking wildly 
 and self-reproachfully as he noticed her death- 
 like pallor. The love for her which had grown 
 and matured with his growth, now fully asserted 
 itself, and all doubts of her constancy and faith- 
 fulness disappeared. The thought that she 
 might never come back to life drove him frantic. 
 Why had he paid any attention to that Satan- 
 inspired communication, which showed, by the 
 two words at the bottom, that the writer was 
 afraid to let it stand as a stated fact? And last 
 of all why had he shown it to her? 
 
 A faint color came into her cheeks, he could 
 feel a renewal of the pulse-beats, and, taking her 
 in his arms, he kissed her lips passionately again
 
 46 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 and again in hia joy. Her eyes opened, the 
 color deepened to a blush, and with a sigh that 
 told of a great weight lifted, she merely whis- 
 pered "Oh, Will!" 
 
 A moment she rested her head on his shoulder, 
 then disengaging herself went to the bench and 
 sat down while he leaned against the arm of it 
 holding her hand. Up among the rustling leaves 
 the old tree murmured its approval. "Will you 
 ever forgive me, Clara, for treating you so?" he 
 asked earnestly, and noticing that she seemed 
 still grieved at his distrust he went on: "I 
 didn't believe that letter, but I expected an ex- 
 planation from you, when I found you had gone 
 with Walter Hart." 
 
 "I wrote you the very next day," said Clara, 
 "explaining it all, and I can't see why you 
 didn't get it. Walter asked me to go with him 
 to the donation party, and I was so anxious to 
 see Mrs. Wood and the girls down there that I 
 couldn't resist the temptation. I was sorry 
 after we started for I knew you didn't like Wal- 
 ter, but it was too late then. It snowed so hard 
 we couldn't come back that night and I stayed 
 with Sarah while Walter went to the hotel. I 
 was angry with him for I thought he must have 
 known it would storm, so I came back the next 
 day with John Short." 
 
 "Never mind dear," said Will; "it's all right 
 now. How you must have worried! You are as 
 thin and pale as a ghost. I shall never forgive 
 myself for doubting your love." 
 
 Once more they were happy, but for how long? 
 
 This life is a succession of joys and sorrows in
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 4? 
 
 which the latter I think more often predominate. 
 Because you may be poor is no reason for you 
 to think yourself less happy than those whose 
 wealth you envy. The richest robes conceal 
 sorrows as easily as rags expose them. Will and 
 Clara walked down to the village. He stopped 
 at the store and she went on home after promis- 
 ing to meet him again the next day at the same 
 place. She intended then to tell him of her 
 father's desire to place her in a "comfortable" 
 matrimonial situation, but before the time ap- 
 pointed for their next meeting arrived events 
 had occurred making it unnecessary for her to 
 impart the information. 
 
 Three or four of the usual sitters, "too strong 
 for hard work," were on the platform and they 
 paused in their conversation and whittling long 
 enough to greet Will cordially as he passed in. 
 
 "Hello, Will!" said Mr. Young, "what can I 
 do for you?" 
 
 "A letter was mailed here some time ago, ad- 
 dressed to me in Albany, and I didn't receive it. 
 Do you suppose it could have been mislaid here 
 in any way?" 
 
 "No, sir,"answered Mr. Young very stiffly, "I 
 am very careful, and nobody handles the mail but 
 me." 
 
 "Will you allow me to look?" asked Will. 
 
 "Certainly," was the answer in an indignant 
 tone. "I have been postmaster here for five 
 years, and this is the first time my efficiency has 
 been questioned." 
 
 "I don't doubt your efficiency and I don't 
 wish to offend you, but sometimes accidents and
 
 48 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 mistakes will occur when we think we are the 
 most careful. " As he said this Will walked be- 
 hind the counter and looked in the drop-box. It 
 was just as he had conjectured. A crack existed 
 between the bottom piece and the front side. 
 On the floor underneath was a lot of old scraps 
 of paper and sorting them over Will found the 
 letter. "When Clara dropped it in the box, it 
 had struck against the side in such a way as to 
 go through the crack, and the annual cleaning 
 had not been done, so it might have lain there 
 much longer without being discovered. To say 
 that Mr. Young was astonished would be put- 
 ting it mildly. 
 
 "How on earth could it have dropped down 
 there?" asked he. 
 
 "Come here," said Will, "and I'll show you." 
 
 When he saw the place through which the let- 
 ter had slipped, Mr. Young could hardly believe, 
 that he could have taken letters out of that box 
 so many times without noticing it. 
 
 "How did you happen to think of this?" 
 
 "I read of something similar, and thought it 
 might be so in this case," answered Will. 
 
 "I hope you haven't been caused any trouble 
 or inconvenience?" said Mr. Young. 
 
 "Yes, I have," returned Will, "but it doesn't 
 matter now." 
 
 Mr. Young began to see. This letter was 
 from Clara Mason, and from what he had heard 
 he could easily understand why it was so impor- 
 tant. Postmasters in these small places know a 
 lot more about the correspondence of the resi- 
 dents than they imagine. They (the postmas-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 49 
 
 ters) get to know the chirography of everybody 
 in town, and can often guess pretty closely to 
 what the letters they handle contain. 
 
 "I am very sorry, indeed," said Mr. Young. 
 
 "Oh! that's all right," said "Will carelessly, 
 then taking the envelope of the anonymous let- 
 ter, which he had shown Clara, from his pocket 
 he asked : 
 
 "Do you know that writing?" 
 
 Looking at it closely Mr. Young answered. 
 "Yes. That was written by Henry Mason." 
 
 Snatching the envelope unceremoniously from 
 Mr. Young's hand, Will turned quickly on his 
 heel and left the store. 
 
 "What in the world ails the boy?" said Mr. 
 Young as he too went out and stared wonder- 
 ingly after Will, who went up the street and 
 into the gate of the Mason place. 
 
 The idlers in front of the store had heard 
 nothing that was said, but when Mr. Young 
 came out and looked so hard to see where Will 
 was going, they asked : 
 
 "What's wrong?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," answered he, going 
 back very much perplexed. 
 
 When Clara took the envelope from Will's 
 hand, as mentioned before, she was so excited, 
 and so anxious to learn its contents, that she 
 failed to notice the superscription. That, and 
 the friendly (?) communication inside were 
 apparently not written by the same hand, or if 
 they were, the former was evidently natural and 
 the latter disguised. If Clara had noticed the 
 address, she would have been struck by the re-
 
 50 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 semblance of the writing to that of her father; 
 but possibly not, in the state of her mind at 
 the time. Had she noticed it, it would have 
 made no difference, for she could never have be- 
 lieved her father guilty of such a thing although 
 knowing his desire to keep her and Will apart 
 and yet he was the very person who had done it. 
 
 He knew the attachment between them was 
 strong but thinking that by using this oppor- 
 tunity to poison the mind of "Will against her he 
 could break it off and "no one be the wiser. " 
 With the letter he had taken great pains but in 
 writing the address he forgot his caution. It is 
 hard to believe that any father could do this, 
 still there are men so bound and tied to the 
 almighty dollar that they will sacrifice anything 
 for it except life. 
 
 This is the way he reasoned it out: whether 
 Will believed the story or not, there would cer- 
 tainly be an estrangement, and then he could 
 use his powers of persuasion to advantage with- 
 out antagonizing Clara, for she would be angry 
 and willing to marry any one for spite. 
 
 How foolish it was of him i,o reason in such 
 an unreasonable way! He should have known 
 his daughter better. And yet the most sane 
 man in the world will sometimes lay plans and 
 build up hopes which fail at the first step 
 toward their accomplishment, and only as he 
 stands among the ruins of his castles can he see 
 the impracticability of his scheming. The like 
 of this has happened to me, but I don't claim to 
 be the person referred to. 
 
 Henry Mason loved his daughter in a way
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 51 
 
 hardly equal to his passion for money and 
 thought she ought to look upon wealth as he 
 saw it the great desideratum of life. 
 
 "When he saw how Clara was being affected his 
 conscience "smote him sore" and as the days 
 went by, and she grew worn and pale, its power 
 increased. He was often on the verge of making 
 a clean breast of it, but each time his courage 
 failed. Between disappointment and remorse, 
 he was made positively miserable. What he had 
 told Clara in regard to his money was not true. 
 It had not been depleted so much by the cost of 
 her schooling, but by stock speculations in Wall 
 Street, made through the man he wished her to 
 marry. He communicated with this person 
 through the mails, and met him at long intervals 
 in Albany. Why he kept away from New York, 
 and why his friend never came out to the village, 
 will appear in due time.
 
 52 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "HE MUST BE ASLEEP IN HIS CHAIR. " 
 
 As Will Benson -went past the cottage of Bosh 
 Warton, after leaving the store in such haste, 
 he saw its inquisitive owner leaning against the 
 fence. 
 
 "Where naow, Will?" asked Bosh, wondering 
 what could be "in the wind" now, as he noted 
 Will's rapid pace and troubled expression. 
 
 .Paying no attention to this salutation, Will 
 hastened on. Watching until he had gone into 
 the Mason place Bosh turned and entered his 
 own house. This latter named domicile was 
 small, old, and weatherbeaten, but his wife kept 
 it always clean and neat inside. She was mak- 
 ing over an old gown for the second time, and, 
 bending over it with a careworn look on her 
 face, appeared the picture of discouragement. 
 
 "Say 'Liza Ann," said Bosh excitedly, "I jest 
 seen Will Benson goin' in Mason's, an' he was 
 rippin' mad 'baout sumthin', an' he never paid 
 no notice t' me 'tall w'en I spoke tew him. Thet 
 Mason gal's makin' a fool o' him, but he's got his 
 dander up naow." 
 
 Throwing down her work with an impatient 
 gesture, "Liza Ann" exclaimed:
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 53 
 
 "Bosh Warton, yew're th' most tryin'est man 
 I ever did see! I'm jest dead wore aout with 
 y'u. Yew're dewin' nothin' but pryin' 'raound 
 'baout yewr neighbor's business all th' time. 
 Here I'm slavin' an' workin' ev'ry minit an' 
 what does et 'maount tew? Th' harder I work, 
 th' less yew dew. Yew hain't planted th' gar- 
 den yit an' ev'rybody else hes, th' chickens is 
 half of 'em dead with th' pip, yew hain't made 
 no 'rangements fer parsterfer th' caow, th' pig's 
 squealin' all th' time fer sumthin' t' eat, an' I'm 
 jest nigh 'baout worrited t' death with yewr 
 carry in 's on." 
 
 Bosh sat with a hand on either knee looking 
 shamefacedly down at the hit-and-miss stripes 
 in the bright rag carpet while his wife was de- 
 livering this truthful tirade, and as she stopped 
 for breath, he retorted : 
 
 "Wa-al, ef yew're goin' tew hetchel me like 
 this, I'll git aout, by darn I will; I'll go over t' 
 Lonzo's an' I won't come back ag'in fer a week 
 nuther. " 
 
 "Huh! No danger o' that. Yew'd be afeared 
 sumthin'd happen 'thaout yewr knowin' et, an' 
 I guess 'Lonzo w'u'dn't be very glad t' see y'u 
 fer he's got a hard nuff row t' hoe with his seven 
 children 'thaout yewr hangin' on him fer a week. 
 Et's a wonder t' me a man like yew c'u'd hev a 
 son es smart es him. He must take after me, fer 
 he hain't no more like yew than a caow is like a 
 sheep." 
 
 Bosh felt the truth of her assertions, but as 
 many others do, he thought "the truth is best 
 not always spoken." He sat cogitating a few
 
 54 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 minutes, making no attempt to "talk back," for 
 he knew she could "worst" him on every side, 
 when, as though having formed a sudden resolu- 
 tion, he jumped up and exclaimed: "I guess 
 I'll go aout an' plant some pertaters." 
 
 As he left the room "'Liza Ann" said, speak- 
 ing to the door just closed, "a good rakin' daown 
 is what he needs wonct in awhile, but he don't 
 git it of 'en nuff. " 
 
 Running up the steps and across the portico, 
 Will Benson lifted the brass knocker on Henry 
 Mason's door and brought it down with a re- 
 sounding thump. After waiting a little for a 
 response and receiving none, he repeated the 
 operation, but no sound came from within and 
 no one appeared. Going around to the rear of 
 the house he found the kitchen door open but 
 the room was empty. He sat down in the door- 
 way and waited fully ten minutes, when, con- 
 cluding they had all gone out for a long stay, he 
 went through the garden, which Miss Wilkins 
 and Clara had planted, vaulted the fence and 
 "cut across lots" in the direction of his home, it 
 being the nearer way. 
 
 Bosh Warton saw him leaving, and wondered 
 what had been said or done at Mason's. Will's 
 mind was in a quandary. Henry Mason's writ- 
 ing on an envelope that contained a letter stig- 
 matizing the character of his daughter? Impos- 
 sible. The postmaster must have made a mistake, 
 and yet he seemed very positive. Comparing 
 the address with the letter and looking closely 
 Will could see, a similarity in the turn of some 
 of the letters, the same even pressure of the pen,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 55 
 
 and the same pale bluish-black ink. No doubt 
 'twas all done by one person, but whom ? 
 
 "I have been in too much of a hurry," 
 thought Will. "It would not do to show this to 
 Mr. Mason, it might cause useless trouble and 
 he's down on me anyhow, so I had better wait 
 and see Mr. Young again. I'll keep on though 
 until I find the one who did it and if he isn't 
 sorry before I'm done with him, 'twill be no 
 fault of mine." 
 
 When Clara came in after leaving Will that 
 afternoon, Miss Wilkins noticed at once what a 
 difference there was in her appearance. Her 
 face was flushed, her eyes had lost their dullness 
 and her natural animation had returned. Easily 
 divining the cause Miss Wilkins said: 
 
 "You have seen Will." 
 
 "Yes," answered Clara, "I have seen him and 
 all is understood. He didn't get my letter but 
 another one from some person who was afraid to 
 sign it." 
 
 "What did it say?" 
 
 Clara hesitated and when she answered her 
 face was aflame. 
 
 "It said that I went with Walter Hart to 
 
 M , and after the party stayed with him all 
 
 night at the hotel. Did you ever hear such a 
 dreadful, scandalous, falsehood before!" 
 
 Miss Wilkins lifted her hands in unfeigned 
 surprise as well she might. 
 
 "My conscience!" she exclaimed. "Who in 
 the name of meanness could have hatched up 
 such stuff about you?" 
 
 "I can't imagine; but Will says he'll find out
 
 56 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 if it takes a lifetime, and I almost hope he don't 
 for he's very angry. Of course it was an easy 
 thing to contradict the hotel keeper or Mrs. 
 Wood could have done that but when Will 
 learned from a more reliable source that I really 
 had gone to the party with Walter, he was dis- 
 pleased, and not hearing from me naturally be- 
 came angry." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you to write again?" said Miss 
 Wilkins. "You ought to take my advice more 
 than you do Clara," this reprovingly. 
 
 Clara had a way of using her own judgment, 
 which Miss Wilkins called stubbornness. 
 
 "Oh, well!" answered Clara, "it's all right 
 now," and thinking of how it was made "all 
 right," she colored again and dropped her eyes. 
 
 Miss Wilkins understood. 
 
 "If father only liked Will, and wasn't so 
 anxious to marry me off for money," said Clara, 
 "I should be happy; but it seems there is al- 
 ways something to prevent us from being really 
 happy for any length of time. We are only so 
 when we forget all except the cause of it at the 
 moment. Start to think, and the reaction 
 begins." 
 
 Miss Wilkins sighed and looked vacantly 
 through the window. She knew how true those 
 words were. She had once been happj'. She 
 too had once known the ecstasy of love, and the 
 pleasure of feeling that there was one in whose 
 eyes she was the only girl in the world. But 
 alas! That happiness had been ruthlessly 
 snatched from her almost at the first realization 
 of it. Her lover was killed in a railroad acci-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 57 
 
 dent, and since that da3 r life had been a desert, 
 broken by an occasional oasis when she forgot. 
 All the love of her affectionate nature she now 
 bestowed upon the girl, who as a child had been 
 her charge, and who seemed as though her own. 
 
 ""Where is father?" asked Clara. 
 
 "Up in his room where he spends so much of 
 his time lately, "answered MissWilkins. "He's 
 acting more strangely than ever, and appears 
 worried and anxious all the while as though 
 something weighed heavily on his mind." 
 
 "Poor father," said Clara. "I have felt so 
 badly myself that I haven't noticed the differ- 
 ence in him. I must have a talk with him and 
 find out what's the cause of it, and if there is 
 anything I can do except giving up Will I 
 shall do it. Whatever he may have done, or 
 whatever hold that man may have on him, I 
 think there must be some way to fix it up." 
 
 "Yes, Clara, that's a good girl, as you always 
 are, try and see what you can do lor him. It's 
 still early, let's go up to Mrs. Ward's. She 
 promised me some geraniums that she slipped 
 last fall, and you have wanted to get that cake 
 recipe for a long time, so we can do both errands 
 at one trip. We will get back before dark, and 
 after tea you can have a talk with your father. 
 I am glad you and Will have made up, for you 
 don't look like the same girl." 
 
 Thus talking, they made their preparations 
 and started, being scarcely more than out of 
 sight when Will arrived with his hammering on 
 the door. Fifteen minutes of leisurely walking 
 would bring them to the Ward farmhouse, so
 
 58 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 they loitered along enjoying the beautiful day. 
 They passed the church, in the shade of the 
 large maples whose foliage possessed that bright 
 green of the newly opened leaf, and the school- 
 house, from the open window of which came the 
 musical hum of the children at their lessons, or 
 the sharp voice of the teacher in tones of com- 
 mand or reproof. In a tree nearby a robin was 
 singing happily as he looked down among the 
 leaves at his quiet little mate on her nest. His 
 shrill notes attracted Clara's notice, and, too, 
 at the foot of the tree she saw a pile of stones, 
 probably the very ones Will had used in making 
 her playhouses long before. Was this a good 
 omen? She thought so, and looking back at the 
 church, imagined herself standing before the 
 altar with Will, and the venerable minister with 
 sober mien pronouncing the marriage service. 
 Aloud she said to Miss Wilkins: 
 
 "While away at school I was always longing 
 for vacation time to get home again. I love this 
 quiet place, and I think father could be more 
 contented here if he would mingle more with the 
 people. He calls them illiterate and unintellec- 
 tual, but I am sure that is only because he 
 chooses to see it in that way. There are many 
 here who are fully equal to him in education, 
 although lacking much of the polish, no doubt, 
 to which he was formerly accustomed." 
 
 "Early impressions and prejudices are the 
 most lasting," said Miss Wilkins. "A boy, or 
 girl growing up in the city sees caricatures of 
 the countryman and jokes ridiculing his igno- 
 rance, and knowing nothing to the contrary, be-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAfiEDY. 59 
 
 lieves these things to be true of him regardless of 
 location or condition. Polish as it is called, and 
 the manners of polite society, are acquired 
 only by intercourse with the outside world that 
 is, speaking of people in small places like this 
 but purity, goodness, and sincerity are more de- 
 sirable, and are found right here. There is 
 usually too much tribute paid to manners and 
 appearances, and too little to actual worth. 
 Many a rascal is feted and lionized because of 
 his distingue air and Chesterfieldian grace. 
 Intellect is inborn, and is found in all sorts of 
 unexpected places. Education and travel can 
 expand and amplify, but not make it. At some 
 of the social functions given by your father while 
 in the city, there were often people who, though 
 possessed of every advantage for knowing better, 
 seemed never capable of talking anything but 
 the sheerest nonsense. So it's quite evident that 
 your father must be prejudiced, when he says 
 the people here are 'unintellectual. ' Some are, 
 but he puts them all in the same category." 
 
 "Would you care to live in the city again?" 
 asked Clara. 
 
 "I don't think so," was the answer, "unless I 
 could be in some quiet part of it, for after living 
 here so long I should not be able to stand much 
 noise and bustle." 
 
 They were so well entertained by Mrs. Ward 
 that it was long after dark and late for early 
 retiring people like them when they returned 
 home. The house cat was lying in the kitchen 
 door, and everything was apparently as they had 
 left it. After lighting the lamps, Clara looked
 
 60 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 around for her father, but without seeing him. 
 Going up to the door of his sanctum she found 
 it locked. This was nothing unusual, and notic- 
 ing no light through the keyhole, she concluded 
 he must have dropped asleep. Thinking he 
 could rest as well in his reclining chair as in 
 bed, she stayed her hand in the act of knocking, 
 and went down again to the kitchen where Miss 
 Wilkins sat awaiting the result of her search. 
 
 "Did you find him?" asked Miss Wilkins. 
 
 "No," answered Clara, "the door of his room 
 is locked and there is no light, so I think he 
 must be asleep in his chair. It's too bad we 
 didn't get back earlier. He's accustomed to 
 having his tea at six o'clock and here it is after 
 nine. I hope he won't be angry." 
 
 "If he'd wanted it he'd have gotten it him- 
 self," said Miss Wilkins, "without waiting for 
 us. I think we had better not disturb him for 
 he hasn't rested well lately, and the sleep will do 
 him good." 
 
 After a short time they retired and both slept 
 soundly until morning, in fact rather later than 
 customary, because of the walking they had 
 done the previous day.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 THE CONSTABLE, THE SQTIIBE, AND WHAT THEY FOUND. 
 
 MR. MASON was always an early riser and would 
 often have breakfast under way when Clara and 
 Miss Wilkins came down, but this morning he 
 was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 A dismal foreboding took possession of Clara's 
 heart. He was eccentric and had been acting 
 strangely of late, but this was so very extraor- 
 dinary that she felt sure something must be 
 wrong with him. 
 
 She and Miss Wilkins went to the door of his 
 room, hammered loudly and listened. Not a 
 sound came from the interior and all was as 
 silent as the grave. When asleep he breathed 
 heavily. Clara had not thought of this the night 
 before, so, as it occurred to her now, she placed 
 her ear at the keyhole and listened intently. 
 Nothing could be heard except a slight rustle as 
 of a piece of paper stirred by the morning breeze, 
 and looking through she saw that the lower sash 
 of the window opposite had been raised. This 
 in itself was not significant for the weather was 
 warm but the blinds too being open made it 
 seem so, as he always closed them at night. A 
 moment they stood motionless, looking at each 
 other with, fear-dilated eyes, while the awful
 
 62 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 stillness seemed to oppress the brain and labor 
 the breath, then Clara spoke in a suppressed 
 voice filled with terror. 
 
 "Do you think anything has happened?" 
 
 "With a vain effort to conceal her own dread, 
 Miss Wilkins answered : 
 
 "I hope not, but we must get some one to open 
 that door." 
 
 Almost bursting with a desire to scream, each 
 with a common impulse rushed half-falling down 
 the stairs and out into the street toward the 
 house of the village constable. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning, and nature was 
 in one of her sweetest moods. The sun was 
 shining well up in the heavens, the air was 
 laden with the perfumes of spring, the feathered 
 choristers were at their merriest tunes, and all 
 the loveliness of the season was embodied in 
 that scene. They took no notice of this bright- 
 ness and beauty, but ran on with increasing 
 speed as their anxiety grew. 
 
 Jim Peterson, the constable, was quietly dis- 
 cussing his morning meal, when the door burst 
 suddenly open and two people went sprawling 
 on the floor. Taken by surprise, and not know- 
 ing for the instant who they were, or what caused 
 the "rumpus," he sprang to his feet, drew his 
 trusty, or rather rusty, revolver from his hip 
 pocket and stood ready for the fray. This 
 weapon he carried by virtue of office and often 
 boasted tapping the rear of his trousers signifi- 
 cantly "Any man that refuses to go with me 
 when I want him, had better look out." 
 
 Clara and Miss Wilkins had stumbled over the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 63 
 
 doorsill, or each other's feet, and this accounted 
 for their unceremonious entry. On regaining 
 feet and breath, they told Jim excitedly the 
 object of their informal call. With a look of 
 disappointment he returned the instrument of 
 death to the place where it had been so long in 
 desuetude, and asked them, "to say it over ag'in 
 one at a time and say it slow." 
 
 "Hum! Hum!" said the constable, when heat 
 last understood them, "we must have witnesses. " 
 
 "Why what do you think has happened?" 
 asked Clara, more frightened than ever. 
 
 "I don't" know answered he; "but everything 
 must be done according to law. In my book of 
 rules, chapter five, article sixteen, it says as fol- 
 lows to wit: 'in breaking open, or entering into, 
 houses or rooms, in which suicide or murd " 
 
 "Stop! stop! for heaven's sake, " cried Clara, 
 on the verge of nervous prostration, "do some- 
 thing and be quick about it, for I shall die if I 
 don't find out soon what has happened to father 
 or where he is. ' ' 
 
 "We-ell,"said Jim reflectively "I'll have to git 
 the squire anyhow." 
 
 He left them standing at the gate and walked 
 away at a rapid pace. The "squire" was a short, 
 stout man, beyond the middle turn of life and 
 very much averse to doing anything requiring 
 haste. He often expressed his belief in the 
 efficacy of "maintaining the majesty and dignity 
 of the law at all times," and surely the rate at 
 which the constable was hurrying him now 
 could not agree with his ideas, for he was puffing 
 and blowing while trying to make his ambling
 
 64 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 gait equal to the constable's stride. As a con- 
 sequence of all this he was most irritable and 
 crusty. 
 
 "Why couldn't you have done this your- 
 self without calling on me to help?"asked he 
 between gasps and snorts, mopping his bald 
 head and almost equally innocent face with a 
 large handkerchief. 
 
 "Well, squire," said Jim by way of answer, 
 "you know everything must be done according 
 to law, and it says in my book of rules, that in 
 breaking open houses or rooms in which suicide 
 or murd " 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed the squire, who 
 had come to a full stop and was breathing more 
 easily. "Who said suicide or murder had been 
 committed? This is only the foolishness of 
 nervous women. I suppose Hen Mason has 
 gone off somewhere without telling them, and 
 they have worked themselves into a conniption 
 because they don't know where he is. I don't 
 care much about hunting him up, for I'll only 
 get laughed at for my pains, and he'll hold his 
 nose higher than ever. And another thing I 
 want to say to you: You have no more consid- 
 eration for the dignity of the law than a cow. 
 What kind of a figure do you think I cut racing 
 through the street in this way?" 
 
 "A very comical one," the constable might 
 have said had he dared ; but what he did say 
 was: "I'm sorry, squire, but you know we must 
 let the people see that no culprit is allowed to 
 escape if we can ketch him." 
 
 "What the devil has this got to do with a cul-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 65 
 
 prit?" cried the squire angrily, as he looked at 
 Jim with contempt for the latter 's ignorance, 
 while Jim, big, broad-shouldered and strong, 
 thought how humiliating it was to "knuckle 
 down to such a mean little runt." 
 
 "Two women want a door broken open," the 
 squire went on, "and the whole community must 
 be aroused to do it." 
 
 The community was being aroused surely 
 enough. Seeing these two officials acting so 
 strangely naturally made the villagers curious to 
 know what was wrong, and they began to gather 
 about. 
 
 The squire and Jim, with Clara and Miss "Wil- 
 kins, entered the gate of the Mason place, while 
 the crowd followed behind. Clara told the 
 squire that she had noticed the window being 
 open, and they went around to the rear of the 
 house. The window could be reached from the 
 roof of the kitchen extension, so, procuring a 
 ladder, the constable climbed up, and drawing 
 himself by the sill to a sufficient height, looked 
 in. Not a person moved hardly breathed 
 while all eyes were fixed on the constable, hang- 
 ing to the window sill as though held by some 
 irresistible power. That thy expected some- 
 thing out of the ordinary was made plain by the 
 expressions on their upturned faces. A few 
 seconds of suspense and the constable fell back 
 with a cry of horror. 
 
 "What did you see?" asked Clara, trembling 
 with apprehension and dreading the answer. 
 
 "Your father is lying dead on the floor with hit 
 throat cut from ear to earl"
 
 66 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Before he had finished the sentence Clara fell 
 prostrate upon the ground. Kind hands lifted 
 and carried the poor girl into the kitchen, and 
 Miss "Wilkins began the task of bringing her 
 back to consciousness. Miss Wilkins herself 
 was very much unnerved, yet, having seen 
 trouble before, she was more capable of standing 
 it now. It seemed cruel of Jim to speak so un- 
 guardedly when he might have known the effect 
 it would have on Clara; but his own fright had 
 rendered him unconscious of the awful import of 
 his words. At first everyone seemed stricken 
 dumb by the dread intelligence, but soon they 
 were all talking in excited though subdued tones. 
 Children, frightened at the pale, scared faces of 
 those around them, clung crying, unnoticed, to 
 their mothers' dresses, and none among the 
 crowd remained unmoved. 
 
 There need be no wonder that these people 
 were so affected. Nothing like this had ever 
 happened before in that peaceful neighborhood, 
 and very little had ever occurred to disturb the 
 "even tenor" of their ways. The death of a 
 well-known and respected member of the com- 
 munity would cast a shadow of sadness over 
 them for a time, though seldom ruffling 
 their equanimity, it being only in the regular 
 order of things, but the present instance was 
 entirely different. A neighbor not a very 
 sociable one to be sure had died by the hand of 
 violence, and the manner of it, and the mystery 
 of it, made the difference. The squire and the 
 constable with several other men, went into the 
 house and broke open the door. It was a horri-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 67 
 
 ble sigbt indeed that met their gaze. The body 
 of Mr. Mason was lying face upward on the floor, 
 in a pool of blood which had congealed, showing 
 that the deed must have been done quite a long 
 time before. The wide staring eyes were fixed 
 in an expression of unutterable terror, as though 
 death had come the instant he realized his awful 
 fate. The assassin's weapon must have been a 
 long sharp knife, which he had evidently used 
 with a quick powerful stroke, for even the point 
 of Mr. Mason's long beard had been severed, and 
 some cf the hairs were still sticking to the edge 
 of the gaping wound. 
 
 Everything in the room was in a state of con- 
 fusion. The large desk had been broken into, 
 the small safe in a corner near the window was 
 standing open and empty, two of the chests 
 which had excited so much curiosity were open, 
 and books and clothing were scattered around. 
 This clothing was nearly all the apparel of a 
 woman, and in quality apparently the finest, 
 having belonged no doubt to the wardrobe of 
 Clara's mother. Exquisite dinner, ball, and 
 reception dresses, were lying as though thrown 
 right and left by the murderer-thief in search- 
 ing for something of lesser bulk and greater 
 value. Near the body and soaked with blood, 
 was one in particular of fine white satin his 
 wife's wedding-dress! 
 
 At the wanton fiendishness of the deed, 
 strong men trembled with dismay. The squire 
 ordered everybody out that nothing might be 
 disturbed, and that he and Jim might make a 
 thorough examination of the room, to find if
 
 68 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 possible a clew to the murderer. All went ex- 
 cept Bosh Warton, who was hauling over the 
 contents of one of the chests. 
 
 "What are you doing?" asked the squire in a 
 sharp tone. 
 
 "I on'y want t' see what's inhere," answered 
 Bosh, as he dove deeper among the things that 
 Henry Mason had held sacred to the eye and 
 touch of none but himself. 
 
 "Come, get out," said the squire impatiently. 
 
 "Jest wait a minute; I'm 'most tew th' 
 bottom." 
 
 "Jim!" exclaimed the now angry squire with 
 an imperative wave of the hand, "throw that 
 curious old fool out of the room!" 
 
 Grabbing the rightly-named c. o. f. by the 
 collar, Jim carried out the order with alacrity. 
 As he was being hustled through the door Bosh 
 shouted : 
 
 " Yeou my be glad t' call on me yit, fer I know 
 th' man what done th' murder, an' b'gosh I 
 won't tell 3*'u 'f you treat me this way." 
 
 Closing the door behind him, they began the 
 work of tracing the criminal, as should always 
 be done in such cases, by starting at the place 
 where the deed was committed, and their success 
 was far greater than they had expected. In fact 
 both were astonished that the perpetrator of 
 such a dastardly act, could have been so careless 
 of his own safety. 
 
 A number of papers, which had been taken 
 from the desk, were strewn about, all of little 
 importance and attracting only a passing notice, 
 except one squarely folded bit of note paper,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 69 
 
 having the word "Clara," in large letters, 
 written diagonally across it. The constable 
 found this, and opening it out, read as follows. 
 
 "My DEAR CHILD: How can I tell you what a 
 cowardly knave is your father? I cannot look 
 in those innocent eyes, so like your mother's, 
 and make this confession. I wrote an anonymous 
 note to Will, which has kept him away from you, 
 making you unhappy and myself miserable. I 
 knew you loved Will, but I thought if a breach 
 were made between you, your love would wear 
 away, and I could hope for an agreement to my 
 plans. The man of whom I spoke to you, has no 
 claim on me except that of friendship, for noth- 
 ing he could do would overbalance the service I 
 rendered him. I thought to make provision for 
 your future comfort by marrying you to a man 
 of wealth, but I see you love as did your mother, 
 for life. Will you, can you, forgive my base- 
 ness? The thought that I could have done this 
 injury to my own motherless girl drives me mad 
 with remorse, and for shame I fear to speak. 
 As soon as I can raise sufficient courage, I shall 
 hand you this note, hoping that you will not 
 despise your erring though repentant 
 
 "FATHER." 
 
 While Jim stood puzzling his brains in the 
 effort to understand this (to him) strange sound- 
 ing epistle, the squire was examining some- 
 thing be had found near the window. It was a 
 large linen handkerchief partially covered with
 
 70 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 blood, and bearing a monogram in one corner of 
 the two letters, W and B! 
 
 "These," said the squire, holding up the letter 
 (after he had read it) and the handkerchief, 
 while he looked at Jim with an air of superior 
 wisdom, "these are two important links in the 
 chain of evidence that I shall forge, which will 
 surely bind the person plainly indicated until he 
 has reached the gallows." 
 
 In trying to conceal his anger Jim looked 
 merely red and foolish ; but when next alone 
 the air was rent and torn by the dynamic force 
 of his curses. He knew that whatever honors 
 were to be had would be captured by the squire, 
 with his glib tongue and self-assertion, after 
 having been almost literally dragged into the 
 case, yet, being only a "constable" he must 
 needs gnash his teeth unobserved. The squire 
 placed the "two important links" of evidence 
 carefully in his pocket, and made a few entries 
 in a memorandum, after which they went out 
 for help in caring for the body. A number of 
 men were standing by the gate, with Bosh War- 
 ton in their midst, and all apparently very much 
 "worked up." 
 
 "Yaas, " said one,"'t must be Will Benson, an' 
 I think th' laws' tew dern slow. We'd better 
 take this matter int' our own hands." 
 
 "Gentlemen and fellow-citizens," said the 
 squire, rising to his full height (not much of a 
 rise by the way), "do not be rash. The law is 
 supreme and all-powerful in this land of equal- 
 ity, and its majesty and dignity must be main- 
 tained." Bounding off the sentence with a
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 71 
 
 Fourth-of-July-orator flourish of the hand, he 
 went on. 
 
 "Every offender against it, whether rich or 
 poor, is punished sooner or later." (?) "He 
 may evade it for a time, but the Nemesis of jus- 
 tice will dog his footsteps, until he is finally 
 driven cowering to cover, from whence there is 
 no escape!" This was a grand burst of eloqu- 
 ence he thought, and the pneumatic-pump of 
 pride swelled out his girth a trifle more. 
 
 "I have found some very important clews, 
 and before the sun sets I shall have the person 
 at whom they point with accusing finger under 
 arrest. I think you can testify as to my effi- 
 ciency. Not a henroost, or smokehouse, has 
 been robbed, and the rascal gone unpunished. 
 The man you suspect may be innocent. But if 
 he is guilty, you may rest assured that I shall 
 leave nothing undone to bring about his convic- 
 tion." 
 
 This harangue had the desired effect. 
 
 Such was their respect for the law and the 
 "squire," that all thought of summary treatment 
 for the person whom Bosh Warton had positively 
 accused soon left their minds. After another 
 vigorous mopping of his face and bald head, the 
 squire requested two of the men to assist the 
 constable in "laying out" the body, having pre- 
 viously cautioned Jim to say nothing of what 
 they had found. He also instructed the consta- 
 ble to come to his "office" as soon as he could. 
 
 Now to return to Clara: Under the gentle 
 ministrations of Miss Wilkins, she soon sat up 
 and asked :
 
 72 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Where is father? Oh ! I remember he is dead ! 
 It is too dreadful to be true! Can't I see him 
 now?" 
 
 "No, dear," said Miss Wilkins soothingly, 
 "your nerves are yet too weak. You must try 
 to steel yourself and bear it. It is awful I know, 
 but we must accept the inevitable. I understand 
 how you feel and fully sympathize with you." 
 
 "Oh! My poor father," cried Clara in an 
 agony of grief, "murdered in cold blood! "What 
 shall I do! I cannot believe it; there must be 
 some mistake! Let me go to him!" This last 
 utterance was almost a scream, and holding her 
 back, Miss Wilkins said : 
 
 "Stop Clara! You'll surely make yourself 
 sick if you don't try to control your feelings." 
 
 Miss Wilkins had kept the kitchen quiet by 
 locking the door, and all the running in and out 
 was through the front way, so Clara knew noth- 
 ing of what was being said or done. As she lay 
 on the big homemade couch Miss Wilkins 
 bathed her forehead, talking softly the while, 
 and before long Clara became calm and some- 
 what resigned to her loss, realizing the im- 
 potence of human grief. She tried to console 
 herself with the thought that "Wilkins" and 
 Will were still left, but all the paternal kind- 
 nesses of years past were brought up by memory, 
 making the battle harder. Poor girl! Her 
 trouble was coming thick and fast with the end 
 yet far away. 
 
 The fatal room the scene of the tragedy was 
 closed and securely fastened, the body having 
 been placed, according to custom, in the parlor
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 73 
 
 below ready for the undertaker from M . 
 
 The remains had been so carefully arranged, 
 that no indications of violence were visible, and, 
 when Clara was composed enough to see them, 
 it seemed as though her father lay quietly 
 sleeping. 
 
 The many expressions of condolence and sym- 
 pathy which Clara received from people living 
 near, as well as their kindly offers of assistance 
 and assistance actually rendered, touched her 
 heart and filled her with gratitude. At such a 
 time as this are good neighbors appreciated to 
 the fullest extent. They smooth the pillow of 
 sickness and do all in their power to pave the 
 way to health ; they soothe and comfort the 
 broken heart of bereavement, making the sun to 
 shine again where all was dark before. Petty 
 differences may cause dissensions, yet in time of 
 trouble everything is forgotten but that a neigh- 
 bor needs a helping hand. Such good deeds 
 as these can cover a multitude of shortcomings, 
 and go more to prove the possession of a Chris- 
 tian spirit than the longest prayers ever uttered.
 
 74 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 INCARCERATED "ACCORDING TO LAW." 
 
 WHEN Jim Peterson, the constable, reached 
 the squire's "office," that administrator of justice 
 was awaiting him with a warrant for the arrest 
 of William Benson. 
 
 "Now," said the squire, "this is a matter of 
 the greatest importance. If this man is arrested 
 and convicted, it will be a great feather in our 
 caps. Quite likely you will have some difficulty 
 in finding him, but be careful to make no blun- 
 der, for you know our reputations are at stake." 
 
 "A devil of a lot he cares about anybody's 
 reputation except his own, " thought Jim as he 
 pocketed the paper and went out. Some of the 
 crowd were yet standing about in the street 
 watching his movements, so, to mislead them he 
 went first to his own house, got his handcuffs, 
 and then stole off by the back way. A pair of 
 handcuffs is practically an unknown quantity in 
 the enforcement of law in these small places, the 
 method of procedure being often something 
 like this: The constable finds his man working 
 in the field. 
 
 "Hello, Bill! "says he. 
 
 "Hello yourself!" answers the intended pris- 
 oner, looking up and stopping work.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 75 
 
 "Corn looks mighty good Bill." 
 
 "Wa-al not es good es it might. Ort t' be all 
 tosselled aout afore this. Weather's too blamed 
 dry." 
 
 "Did y'u git much of a stand o' rye on that 
 lot b'hind th' woods?" 
 
 "Putty fair. It frost-heaved a good deal last 
 winter, but it come aout all right this spring." 
 
 "Sa-ay, Bill, I've come over after y'u." 
 
 "Y'u don't tell me so!" 
 
 "Yes, th' squire wants y'u. I got a paper 
 here guess it's sumthin' 'baout that feller yeou 
 walloped the other day. They say he's gettin' 
 long poorly." 
 
 "Well, I swan! Th' squire ain't in no hurry 
 is he?" 
 
 "No, I guess not." 
 
 "Wa-al then yeou go up tew th' house, an' 
 tell th' old woman t' draw yeou a pitcher o' 
 cider, out o' that bar'l I fixed up last fall with 
 mustard seed. It slips daown like ile. I'll be 
 up es soon es I finish aout this row." 
 
 "Gosh Bill ! That's me exactly. I hain't ben 
 so cider-dry afore in a dog's age." 
 
 The constable goes up, and after awhile 
 "Bill" follows. They drink cider, talk politics, 
 and drink more cider. The constable helps do 
 the "chores," they eat a little snack, and, in the 
 course of human events, the prisoner is finally 
 arraigned before the justice of the peace. 
 
 Jim was not a constable of that kind. He be- 
 lieved in the paraphernalia of the law as well as 
 in the regularity and promptness of its execu- 
 tion, so he had his weapon and his gyves.
 
 76 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 His heart beat wildly at thought of the mis- 
 sion he was undertaking. On the trail of a cold- 
 blooded murderer! And yet, was he? He had 
 known "Will Benson since the latter was a mere 
 child, and nothing before had ever been said 
 against this young man, whose conduct was al- 
 ways the most exemplary; but now, circum- 
 stances seemed to point at him as having 
 committed the worst crime on the calendar. 
 There must be some awful mistake! However, 
 duty and the "book of rules" must be followed. 
 After about twenty minutes' sharp walking, he 
 came in sight of Will's home. Mrs. Wilbur, 
 Will's foster mother, was out hanging some 
 bright tin milk pans on the picket fence in front 
 of the house. She was a hearty, pleasant-faced 
 matron of forty-five, who, before losing her girl- 
 ish slimness, must have been very attractive. 
 Having no children of her own, she almost idol- 
 ized Will, and the wonder is he was not spoiled, 
 for nothing he wanted had been denied him, if 
 she could devise a means of getting it. He 
 loved her as much as if she had really been his 
 own mother, in fact he hardly remembered that 
 she was not. 
 
 Looking up she saw the constable coming, 
 and with a pan poised in the air, stood wonder- 
 ing what he could want. 
 
 "Where's Will?" asked Jim, assuming a calm- 
 ness he was far from feeling. 
 
 "He's working over in the back lot with 
 father. What do you want of him?" 
 
 "Oh, I only want to see him," answered the 
 constable, as he strode quickly away to avoid her 
 searching look.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 77 
 
 Mrs. Wilbur's instinct told her that something 
 was wrong, notwithstanding Jim's air of uncon- 
 cern. She saw it in his face at the first glance. 
 He had tried to prevent his thoughts from affect- 
 ing his features, but, unless a man's countenance 
 is ossified, it will reflect his feelings enough for 
 a woman of intelligence to understand. Another 
 man can be deceived, but not a woman. This is 
 a distinctive faculty of the weaker sex, and what 
 psj'chologist can explain it? Sometimes they 
 don't see because they will it so, and are misled 
 in consequence. 
 
 "It can't be anything much," thought Mrs. 
 Wilbur, going on with her work, and yet she 
 was worried. 
 
 When Jim drew near the field and saw the two 
 men leaning on their hoe-handles looking in his 
 direction as though waiting for him to ap- 
 proach, it seemed strange, if the suspicions were 
 true that Will had not fled, or did not fly now, 
 at sight of the constable. 
 
 Will was in the best of spirits that morning 
 when he and Mr. Wilbur started forth across the 
 dew-covered fields just as the sun was coming in 
 sight. Whistling softly, and absently clipping 
 daisy heads with the blade of his hoe, he walked 
 along, while his thoughts were busy. Now he 
 knew that Clara was true ; that she cared noth- 
 ing for Walter Hart, and, although sorry for 
 having caused her pain, he could not help being 
 pleased at the depth of love he had discovered. 
 He did not know to what a test her love would 
 soon be put. 
 
 Mr. Wilbur owned a pet dog, not of the kind
 
 78 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 carried about in arms, all eyes, nose, blanket, 
 and ribbon, but an intelligent and useful canine 
 of proper size. Shep was of respectable Scotch 
 blood on one side, and no one knew what on the 
 other, so his appearance was nondescript, yet 
 this unregistered strain made no difference in 
 his conduct, except in one particular. He would 
 follow a passing wagon, man, or animal, barking 
 and making a great fuss, thus showing the in- 
 herited mongrel proclivities for which he was 
 not to blame. In the morning he wonld go to 
 the field with his master, returning, when the 
 sun got high and hot to lie on the veranda in 
 the shade until dinner time, when Mrs. Wilbur 
 would come to the door and say: "Shep, din- 
 ner's ready." Away he'd run to the field again, 
 barking loudly to apprise the hungry men of the 
 fact that their noonday meal was waiting. This 
 dog afterward fell into disgrace, and became of 
 no use to the man who had reared him but that 
 comes later. On the morning of which I am 
 trying to write, Shep made a divergence from 
 his regular path soon after beginning the return 
 trip. A squirrel running along a stake-and- 
 rider fence caught his eye, and off he went in 
 hot pursuit. The nimble little rodent jumped 
 to an overhanging limb of a tree, and disap- 
 peared so quickly that Shep was completely 
 "stumped." As he stood looking up at the 
 tree, a man sprang over the fence almost on top 
 of him. "With a howl of fright the dog ran a 
 short distance and turned to look back. The 
 man was nearly across the field and tearing along 
 like mad. This was too much of a temptation for
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 79 
 
 Shep, so with a preliminary growl he gave 
 chase, tonguing loudly the while. 
 
 "What's Shep barking about?" asked Will, 
 looking in the direction of the sound. 
 
 "He's got a woodchuck in the wall likely," 
 answered Mr. Wilbur, rounding off a cornhill 
 and starting on another. 
 
 "No, he's chasing somebody," said Will, "and 
 the fellow's coming this waj*. " 
 
 Clearing the last fence with Shep at his heels, 
 the exhausted man came up to where they stood. 
 Mr. Wilbur gave the dog a kick that sent him 
 ki-yi-ing toward home, while Will, recognizing 
 in the newcomer a former schoolmate, asked : 
 
 "What's the matter, Ed? He wouldn't bite 
 you." 
 
 "I I wasn 't a fraid of the the dog, ' ' 
 panted Ed. 
 
 "Well, what were you running so for? Con- 
 stable after you?" 
 
 "He's after you and for heaven's sake 
 run and hide." 
 
 "After me?" asked Will. "What can he want 
 of me?" 
 
 Ed's breathing had now become regular 
 enough for him to speak clearly and continu- 
 ously, and his answer intended to explain 
 quickly and hurry Will's departure to safety 
 fell like a thunderclap on the ears of the two 
 men awaiting it. 
 
 "Henry Mason's throat was cut last night and you 
 are suspected of having done it!" Both were 
 staggered as by a blow, and for a moment
 
 80 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 rendered speechless. Will was the first to 
 recover. 
 
 "Are you in earnest?" he asked. "Is Henry 
 Mason dead?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Ed hurriedly, "I am in 
 earnest. He's as dead as a doornail. The con- 
 stable is after you with a warrant, and you'd 
 better skip before you're caught." 
 
 This friend of Will's had been watching the 
 movements of the squire and constable very 
 closely. When he saw the latter leave the 
 "office" he came to a correct conclusion, and 
 started on the run to give warning. 
 
 "Why should they suspect me?" again asked 
 Will. 
 
 "Don't stand asking questions!" almost 
 shouted Ed while he emphasized the "don't" 
 with a stamp of his foot in the soft ground. 
 
 "I have done nothing, and know nothing 
 about it," said Will, calm and determined 
 though pale, "so there is no reason why I should 
 run." 
 
 Will insisted that Ed should tell them all he 
 knew about it, and, half-angrily, he complied. 
 Before he had finished Mr. Wilbur cried ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 "There he is, just rising that knoll this side 
 of the orchard!" 
 
 With a snort of disgust, and a remark that 
 sounded like "infernal fool," Ed leaped the 
 fence again and stalked off the way he came. 
 
 "You'd better go, Will," said Mr. Wilbur 
 coaxingly; "think how mother will feel, with you 
 in jail accused of murder!"
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 81 
 
 "Why, father, you are talking nonsense," re- 
 turned Will. "There is some little mistake, 
 that's all." 
 
 As previously stated, the constable noticed 
 how uncriminal-like were Will's actions, and 
 he felt meaner than ever before. But duty 
 must be performed, so, entering the field 
 through the bars, he stepped up to Will and 
 said: 
 
 "I have a warrant for your arrest." 
 
 "What's the charge?" asked Will. 
 
 Unfolding the paper he held in his hand the 
 constable read it and then said: "I'm sorry, but 
 I'll have to put these on you," producing the 
 handcuffs. 
 
 "What!" cried Will, "do you think I am so 
 desperate?" 
 
 "Can't help it; everything must be done 
 according to law," said Jim, snapping on the 
 iron circlets, while Will ground his teeth with 
 rage at this seeming indignity. 
 
 It was outrageous ! Why should he be treated 
 like a criminal of the very worst type? His 
 blood was boiling with resentment, but he kept 
 his tongue. 
 
 "Tell mother not to worry," said he to Mr. 
 Wilbur, who stood as though deprived of speech 
 and movement, "for I'll be back soon." 
 
 The constable led him away, taking a short 
 cut that kept them out of sight of the house, 
 and not until they were lost to view was Mr. 
 Wilbur able to stir, when he sat down by the 
 bars to ponder how he should break the news to 
 "mother."
 
 82 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 When the constable and his prisoner reached 
 the squire's "office" that worthy was very much 
 surprised. He had thought, and quite naturally, 
 that the perpetrator of such a deed would be 
 sure to seek at once the safest hiding-place pos- 
 sible. But, contrary to his expectations, every- 
 thing seemed to be working just as he wished it, 
 and that he was highly pleased could plainly be 
 seen. 
 
 "Well, young man," said the squire, rubbing 
 his hands and smiling with bland satisfaction as 
 he noticed how well the careful constable had 
 secured his prisoner, "I am very sorry to see 
 you in this predicament; but the law makes fav- 
 orites of none." (?$) "What have you to say as 
 to the murder of Henry Mason?" His august 
 pompousness was now glaring at Will over his 
 glasses. 
 
 "Nothing, to be sure," answered Will quietly. 
 "What should I have to say?" 
 
 "Nothing eh! That's strange, for a man that 
 knows as much about it as you." 
 
 "Be careful," said Will, scarcely able to con- 
 trol himself, "I happen to know something of 
 law myself, and it would be wise in you to re- 
 member it." 
 
 "What! Do you presume to advise me?" 
 cried the squire. "You'll know considerably 
 more about law before you're done. Where did 
 you go yesterday afternoon when you left the 
 post office?" 
 
 It came to Will like a flash. He had been 
 seen going into the place, and Henry Mason was 
 found dead the next morning! So this was the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 83 
 
 basis for the charge? With a half-smile of con- 
 tempt, he looked at the squire, wondering that a 
 man of so much pretension would display such 
 childish inanition. 
 
 The squire noticed the look, and as "Will 
 started to speak he interrupted angrilj": "That 
 will do sir! You need not incriminate yourself. 
 I commit you to the county jail, to await the 
 action of the grand jury, and I ought to fine you 
 for contempt of court. Constable, do your 
 duty!" 
 
 His high mightiness arose with a great show 
 of dignity as he finished speaking, and motioned 
 toward the door. 
 
 The jail was at the county seat ten miles from 
 H , and before sunset Will was duly incar- 
 cerated "according to law." 
 
 Will was satisfied that the slight excuse for 
 evidence which they had would be insufficient 
 to indict him, yet he felt the disgrace of accusa- 
 tion keenly. 
 
 Squire Blowhard had come to H some 
 
 years before this time from Albany to occupy a 
 piece of property left him by a deceased relative, 
 and through his assumed knowledge of the law 
 and the excessive exercise of a pliant tongue, he 
 had been made justice of the peace. He was 
 one of those fortunate mortals whose living 
 seems to come without effort, or with but very 
 little. He had never done much, except attend 
 court sessions while in Albany, and now, being 
 really a "magistrate" himself, was abundantly 
 able to fulfill the duties of that office, which 
 usually went uo further than making an impres-
 
 84 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 sion. Said Bosh Warton, who -was one of hia 
 admirers, "On some p'ints o' law the squire kin 
 beat old Blackstun all holler." 
 
 This statement, of course, was of as little 
 weight as any other made by the same man. 
 Notwithstanding his boasted legal erudition, the 
 squire had forgotten the first and most import- 
 ant thing to be done in case of a death by 
 violence to notify the coroner. As soon as it 
 occurred to him, he made haste to attend to it, 
 knowing that he would be severely reprimanded 
 for his negligence. The coroner, a man of quiet 
 humor, derived much satisfaction from the 
 squire's humiliation before a jury of his fellow 
 townsmen, still, as the room had not been dis- 
 turbed, the affidavits of the squire and constable 
 were considered sufficient. 
 
 It was not long after the constable had driven 
 away with Will when the tide of public opinion 
 turned in his favor. All that the villagers knew 
 which seemed to appear as evidence against him 
 was the fact of his having gone to see Henry 
 Mason, apparently in anger, and as Bosh War- 
 ton expressed it, "sneakin* aout th' back way 
 an' runnin' 'cross lots. " On giving the matter 
 sober thought, they saw it would be hardly 
 reasonable to believe that a man so well known 
 would commit such a terrible crime in broad 
 daylight and make no attempt to hide or escape. 
 And, too, the accused bore an unblemished repu- 
 tation, which had made him respected and liked 
 in the community, as an example of what a 
 young man can be if he will. With these things 
 in mind, they could not think Will a cold-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 85 
 
 blooded murderer. The murder had been done 
 to make robbery possible, and in time it would 
 come out ; but as to Will, many of them thought 
 his accusation and arrest on such flimsy cause 
 an outrage and an insult. 
 
 Poor Clara! It seemed that all the sunshine 
 had gone out of her life, leaving naught but 
 black despair. Her only parent killed in a hor- 
 rible manner and her lover accused of the crime! 
 She did not believe him guilty, and she felt that 
 something would soon occur to solve the mys- 
 tery ; but the dread picture of Will swinging at 
 the gallows was ever before her imaginative 
 nervous eyes.
 
 86 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FUNERAL A QUESTION OF PROPRIETY A FINAN- 
 CIAL MATTER SETTLED AND AN ACCIDENT TO A 
 
 MAN AND A CALF. 
 
 THE funeral of Henry Mason was very largely 
 attended. Funerals usually are, in the country, 
 under ordinary circumstances, but this was an 
 occasion calculated to arouse the whole sur- 
 rounding population for miles. Such a crowd 
 
 had never been seen in H before. They 
 
 came from all points of the compass, and in all 
 manner of conveyances. No matter how they 
 got there, so that they saw the remains of the 
 murdered man. One old lady, who had "routed 
 out" her husband long before daylight, after 
 much grumbling and possibly swearing on his 
 part there was some fifteen miles to be driven 
 said she had never enjoyed a funeral so much, 
 and that he looked "as nateral as life. " Some 
 thought she could hardly be able to judge 
 never having seen the deceased before yet, as 
 her fu-ne-re-al experience had extended through 
 a long period of years, they concluded her 
 knowledge as to how nearly alive a corpse 
 ought to appear beyond question. 
 
 The size of the church was not in correct pro- 
 portion to that of the assemblage, so, while the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 87 
 
 obsequies were going on within, a large number 
 stood about under the trees in front, sat on the 
 steps at the door, the "horse block" at the left 
 of it, and on the fences running along either 
 side. While waiting for their last look at Henry 
 Mason, the all-prevailing topics of conversation 
 were his tragic death, and the possibility of the 
 guilt or innocence of the person accused. No- 
 body knew that Henry Mason possessed so many 
 virtues until they heard his funeral sermon. 
 He had been reserved at times almost haughty 
 uncommunicative, and on familiar terms with 
 none. When brought in direct contact with his 
 neighbors he had been, to say the most, only as 
 friendly as politeness required, and always creat- 
 ing wonder that he should be among them and 
 not one of them. He would not grant or receive 
 favors, and altogether deserved the name of 
 being "queer," which appellation his neighbors 
 had often given him. He may have had the 
 qualities for which the charitably minded 
 "dominie" gave him credit, but never having 
 shown them, the listeners, who thought they 
 knew, sat and marveled. Still, the minister 
 was a man of great perception, and well he 
 ought to know. Said he in closing: "And now, 
 dear friends, let us all try to follow the narrow 
 path" (so very narrow) "along which our 
 lamented neighbor has so faithfully trod. Filled 
 with a spirit of humility, he was quiet and un- 
 obtrusive, he worried not his townsmen with his 
 own affairs, and never unduly pried into theirs; 
 he never forgot his duty in helping along the 
 cause of right at home" (regular contributions
 
 88 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 which most speculators give for luck), "and he 
 always gave for foreign missions, to spread it 
 abroad." (Special contributions for the same 
 purpose.) "And now I say again, dear friends, 
 let us all emulate his brilliant example. " The 
 good man was only human, and why should he 
 not appreciate temporal as well as spiritual as- 
 sistance to "the cause?" How long could "the 
 cause" exist on stereotyped prayers? The old 
 lady aforementined remarked enthusiastically 
 that she "never heerd a more techin' sarmon. " 
 
 The day following the funeral was a dismal 
 one indeed. The lowering clouds had been 
 pouring down an incessant, steady rain since 
 morning, and as Clara sat disconsolately looking 
 out through the kitchen window that afternoon, 
 she thought the weather in exact keeping with 
 her feelings. "Who has not felt the chilling 
 dampness of such a day, creeping into the 
 heart, depressing the brain, and making the 
 brightest prospects look unpromising? Think 
 then how much this sorrow-stricken girl must 
 have been affected. This was the fourth day 
 from the one on which she learned of her father's 
 death and "Will's arrest, and all that time a dull- 
 ness, a half-stupor, had seemed to control her 
 faculties. Now, the murmuring roof, the drip- 
 ping trees, the darkened sky, and the unceasing 
 rain, always falling, down, down, crushed her 
 already broken spirit more to earth. Miss "Wil- 
 kins had tried to interest her in different ways, 
 had tried to divert her thoughts, but all to no 
 purpose. "While Miss "Wilkins was deploring 
 the weather, and wondering how long before a
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 89 
 
 reaction would take place in Clara's mind, it 
 came. Rousing herself with an effort, Clara 
 turned from the window and said: "Poor Will! 
 If I don't go and see him soon he'll think I too 
 believe him guilty. If he knows I have faith in 
 him he'll not care what the world says, for his 
 innocence, no doubt, will soon be established." 
 
 "I hope so, dear," said Miss Wilkins with a 
 faint tinge of doubt in her tone that did not 
 escape Clara. 
 
 "What!" cried the latter, "do you think he, 
 of all men, could be guilty of such a cowardly, 
 cold-blooded deed?" 
 
 "No! no! Clara dear, you are becoming ex- 
 cited again. He is innocent, to be sure, but I 
 think it would be much better for you not to see 
 him for awhile, because you know how people 
 will talk. I don't like to say this to you, Clara, 
 for I know how you feel. Yet at the same time 
 some attention must be paid to public opinion. 
 This is about what the gossips will say : 'Did 
 you ever see the like of it! Her father's no 
 more than under the sod when she goes running 
 off after the man that killed him!' ' 
 
 "I tell you he didn't kill father," cried Clara 
 angrily," and I don't see how you can talk so." 
 
 "Well, Clara, the opinion of the people will 
 depend, to a great extent, on the action of the 
 grand jury, and anyhow, if yow go to see him 
 before something is found cut that will improve 
 his situation, there surely will be much talk not 
 complimentary to you. " Noticing Clara's looks, 
 she went en. "Don't get angry for I say this 
 only for your own good."
 
 90 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "I understand you perfectly," said Clara, not 
 one whit mollified by Miss Wilkins' expression 
 of single interest. "You wish to say, that if 
 other people think he is guilty, I must think so 
 too. And I must wait for them to declare him 
 innocent before I dare to see him." 
 
 "No, you can think as you like, and you can 
 write to him. I only say, it would be better 
 not to see him until something turns in his 
 favor." 
 
 "Do you suppose I care what a few idle mis- 
 chief-makers may think or say?" asked Clara 
 with disdain. "No! I shall go and see him as 
 soon as I can get there, and if he is convicted 
 and sentenced to be hung, I shall stand by his 
 side at the gallows proclaiming his innocence!" 
 
 Miss Wilkins gasped in astonishment at this 
 wild talk, and thought Clara must be mad. 
 
 "The people here know that your father did 
 not favor Will's suit, "said she,"and if you do as 
 you say they will think you were implicated. 
 Listen to reason, and don't let your affection for 
 Will make you do anything rash." 
 
 Clara was about to make an angry retort, when 
 the thought that Miss Wilkins could not see the 
 matter in the same light as herself checked it 
 on her lips. "I am going at once to Mrs. Wil- 
 bur," said she instead, "and find out when they 
 are going to see Will. I can go with them I 
 know." 
 
 "I hope you will have no occasion to regret 
 it," said Miss Wilkins with a severely reproach- 
 ful look, "but I am very much afraid you will. 
 I think you are not considering the duty 
 owe to your dead father,"
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 91 
 
 Without making a rejoinder, Clara put on her 
 things and started to do as she had said. Miss 
 Wilkins sighed heavily as Clara went out, al- 
 though making no attempt to detain her. She 
 knew there was no need of saying more to this 
 willful girl, but she had done her duty in trying 
 to swerve Clara from her insane course, and so 
 she could only sigh for the result. Clara knew 
 that she could encourage Will if unable to help 
 him in any other way, and her love told her it 
 would be right to do so, regardless of what 
 might be said. Having now made a determina- 
 tion, nothing could shake it. It was not from 
 pJeasure that she set at naught the counsel of an 
 older head, but because of firm convictions which 
 she had the courage to follow. A desire to as- 
 sist the man she loved had taken full possession 
 of Clara, and nerved her to overcome the lethargy 
 of grief, and to brave the piercing shafts of pub- 
 lic opinion. Miss Wilkins was so "flustered," 
 that all thought of the weather left her mind 
 until probably five minutes after Clara had gone, 
 when, happening to glance out she exclaimed : 
 
 "Goodness me! To think that she would go 
 such a distance in this rain! I know she'll be 
 down sick from it. I never saw such a crazy 
 acting girl in my life." 
 
 When Clara turned off from the village street 
 the road was a mass of mud, and the sod at 
 either side like a sponge. With her arctics, 
 rubber cloak, and umbrella, she splashed along, 
 hardly noticing the elements. People looked out 
 of their houses, as Clara passed, and wondered 
 where she could be going in that storm. Those
 
 92 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 who live where cars and carriages are always 
 within reach or calling distance, have but a 
 vague idea of what such a walk is like. When 
 Clara arrived at the farmhouse she was com- 
 pletely exhausted. A mile and a half tramp 
 with the mud half-ankle deep would tire even 
 a strong man. Mrs. Wilbur saw her coming 
 and met her at the door. Clara sank into a 
 chair, and it was some little time before she 
 was able to answer the astonished questioning 
 of Will's adopted mother. 
 
 "What made you come out in this drenching 
 rain?" asked Mrs. Wilbur. "Didyou get wet?" 
 
 "I couldn't wait any longer," answered Clara, 
 "and I was so well wrapped up that I am per- 
 fectly dry. I am only tired from walking so far 
 in the mud. After I rest a miaute I'll be all 
 right." 
 
 "Poor girl," said Mrs. Wilbur, "I suppose 
 you were anxious to hear from Will. You don't 
 think he's guilty?" 
 
 "No, no," answered Clara, "I would as soon 
 think myself guilty." 
 
 "Will said you wouldn't. Mr. Wilbur and I 
 went to see him the day he was arrested, in fact, 
 we started right away, for I couldn't have slept 
 that night if we hadn't. He says they can't hold 
 him after the grand jury sits, for the evidence 
 against him amounts to nothing, so there is no 
 use to worry. I was never so astonished and 
 frightened in my life. It was hard for me to 
 realize that our Will was suspected of murder 
 and locked up, when I know he would not injure 
 his worst enemy. " 
 
 "I am very glad he thinks I believe him inno-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 93 
 
 cent," said Clara. "When are you going to see 
 him again?" 
 
 "We shall go to-morrow, if it clears up, for it 
 will be too wet for Mr. Wilbur to work in the 
 field, and no time will be lost. I suppose you 
 are going with us?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Clara, "that is why I cams. 
 I wanted to ask if I could go along when you 
 went again." 
 
 "Of course you can, and Will will be so glad 
 to see you. You are looking very pale and worn, 
 Clara, and I'm afraid you've overdone yourself 
 walking so far in such terrible weather. Mr. 
 Wilbur's out at the barn. I'll tell him to hitch 
 up the horses and take you back when you are 
 ready to start. There is no hurry though ; you 
 will stay until after tea?" 
 
 "No," answered Clara, "I must get right back, 
 for Wilkins is alone and she'll get the blues in 
 that big house if I stay away very long." 
 
 People wondered again, as they saw Mr. Wil- 
 bur driving Clara home, and then they began to 
 conjecture and suggest reasons why she had gone 
 out in rain and mud which would have made 
 Miss Wilkins feel justified in the advice she had 
 offered to Clara. Many women, situated as they 
 were, would have been afraid to stay in a house 
 where murder had been committed, but it was 
 their home, and where else could they go ? They 
 were nervous for a few nights, and slept little, 
 until after a time when their fears wore away. 
 Miss Wilkins, with some neighborly assistance, 
 had cleaned the fatal room, removing all signs of 
 the awful deed, and placing everything as it was
 
 94 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 before except the blood-stained chair and carpet, 
 which articles of furniture she threw out in the 
 yard and burned. This was done as soon as the 
 coroner went away, and while Clara's attention 
 was being occupied by some of the women that 
 she might not see the evidences of her father's 
 tragic death. Miss "Wilkins thought there must 
 have been some valuable jewelry taken, for she 
 knew Clara's mother used often to wear it, and 
 if Mr. Mason would keep his wife's clothing, he 
 surely would her jewels. The reason he had 
 shown Clara none of these things was probably 
 because of a fear that she might want to wear 
 them, and thus excite more public curiosity than 
 was alreadj' rife. I am sorry to disappoint those 
 who may think that the room should have been 
 haunted, but, as an honest chronicler, I must be 
 truthful; no uncanny sounds were heard, and no 
 ghostly visitant seen. Miss "Wilkins knew Clara, 
 and Clara knew Miss Wilkins, so the little differ- 
 ence of opinion they had expressed did not alter 
 their bearing toward each other when Clara re- 
 turned from her call at the Wilbur farm that un- 
 pleasant afternoon. Clara was greatly relieved 
 in mind by her conversation with Mrs. Wilbur, 
 and now she felt and acted more like her natural 
 self. In filling the lamps just before dusk, 
 Clara drained the last drop of oil from the can, 
 and, as more must soon be bought, the Banquo's 
 ghost of human existence the question of money 
 came up. When Clara was small Miss Wilkins 
 had kept a girl to do the housework, and while 
 Clara was away at school she had employed one, 
 more for company than work, dispensing with
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 96 
 
 her services on Clara's return. The matter of 
 household expenditures Mr. Mason had always 
 left to Miss Wilkins, furnishing the money re- 
 quired as she needed it. Having none of this 
 responsibility the condition of their finances had 
 not occurred to Clara until brought to mind by 
 the circumstance of the empty oil-can. 
 
 "Was there any money found in father's 
 room?" she asked Miss Wilkins. 
 
 "Not a cent," was the quiet answer. 
 
 "Has father given you any money lately?" 
 again asked Clara, becoming more anxious. 
 
 "Not since about a month ago," in the same 
 unmoved tone, "and it's all used up." 
 
 "What!" cried Clara, aghast, "are we indeed 
 penniless? This is terrible. The undertaker's 
 bill will soon be coming in and nothing to pay it 
 with, and nothing to keep us from needing his 
 services ourselves." 
 
 Then noticing the calm smile on Miss Wilkins' 
 face, she exclaimed: "For goodness' sake! You 
 sit there and smile as though you were worth a 
 million!" 
 
 "No, I am not worth a million, but I have a 
 little, "said Miss Wilkins while Clara stood won- 
 dering how she could be so indifferent to such a 
 serious matter. 
 
 "You have a little," cried Clara. "Enough I 
 presume to buy a pound of tea, a bag of flour, 
 and a piece of salt pork? Well, that is better 
 than none at all." Then with less sarcasm she 
 resumed: "Maybe I can get a school to teach 
 somewhere; but then, you would be here alone, 
 and I could never sit quietly, pointing at the
 
 96 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 letters with a lead pencil, while a little red 
 headed freckle-faced boy was shouting at the top 
 of his voice: 'A-ah, B-ah, C-ah,' so I don't know 
 what to do," and she sat down looking very 
 grave, while Miss Wilkins laughed heartily. 
 
 "Don't give yourself any more anxietj-, Clara, 
 for I have sufficient to keep us very nicely, with 
 the help of the garden and chickens, for a long 
 time. I'll attend to the undertaker's bill, and 
 all the bills for awhile." 
 
 "Oh! Isn't that lovely" exclaimed Clara, her 
 face lighting up as she half-arose from the chair; 
 then settling back with a sober expression again, 
 she said : "No, it would not be right. You must 
 not do it." 
 
 "But I shall," said Miss Wilkins emphatically 
 "and I can be as stubborn as you. You shall 
 do nothing more than you have been doing un- 
 less how would you like to have a cow?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Clara delightedly, "one of 
 those mild-eyed Jerseys that give such rich milk. 
 I could sell some butter and help along in that 
 way, too." 
 
 Mr. Mason had never used the barn on the 
 place, except for chickens, and Miss Wilkins 
 often wished for a cow, but always refrained 
 from mentioning it on account of his peculiar 
 disposition. His desires for rural pursuits had 
 been very limited. 
 
 "You dear, good Wilkins, " continued Clara as 
 she went over and kissed her affectionately, "I 
 am not deserving of such kindness, but I shall 
 do all in my power to repay it." 
 
 During her years of service Miss Wilkins had
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 97 
 
 saved quite a neat sum of money, and kept i 
 carefully hidden away. No one knew how much 
 except herself, and the thought of this "reserve 
 fund" made her feel very comfortable. If more 
 of such providence were practiced there would 
 be less need of relying on Providence for assist- 
 ance, and less want and privation would be 
 called "bad luck," or "the will of God." Be- 
 fore retiring that night Clara told Miss Wilkins 
 of the purposed journey on the morrow, but the 
 latter made no comment and Clara was pleased. 
 It was still cloudy the next morning, but the 
 rain had ceased, and the wind was veering 
 around westward, so the Wilburs called early for 
 Clara, who stood at the gate ready as they drove 
 up. The sun soon broke through the clouds 
 and gave everything a cheerful aspect. The 
 drops sparkled with its rays on leaves, grass, and 
 growing grain, the pine crove below the village 
 gave out an odor of pleasing pungency, wild 
 flowering shrubs along the roadway hedges lent 
 sweet perfume, the robins, orioles, bobolinks and 
 the shrill-voiced bluejay, had found their lost 
 notes, and all of nature's life joined to woo at- 
 tention, but in vain. The thoughts and conver- 
 sation of these three people ran only in one 
 direction ; the solitary prisoner and the injustice 
 of his confinement. Crossing a small stream by 
 the little bridge that spanned it, they ascended a 
 short hill, and came on to the dugway described 
 in a previous chapter. Near the further end of 
 this narrow roadwaj', and coming toward them, 
 was a man on horseback leading a calf with a 
 rope. This is a difficult thing to do anywhere,
 
 98 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 but in such a place it becomes the height of fool- 
 ishness. Clara was the first to see him, and 
 catching Mr. Wilbur by the sleeve, she pointed 
 ahead with an exclamation of fright. They were 
 at the widest part of the road, so Mr. Wilbur 
 stopped his horses as much at one side as possi- 
 ble, that the erratic animal and its evidently 
 erratic owner might get past. The calf was run- 
 ning back and forth, and from side to side, while 
 the horseman, intent on trying to control it, 
 failed to notice the spectators. Just as Mr. 
 Wilbur made up his mind to give assistance, the 
 calf slipped on the outer edge of the road and 
 fell over the precipice. At this instant the horse 
 stumbled, being confused by the repeated jerk- 
 ings on the bridle rein, and threw his rider over 
 his head down after the unlucky calf.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MAN BUT NOT THE CALF AN AFFECTIONATE 
 
 MEETING AN UNEXPECTED LETTER. 
 
 THE two women screamed as they saw the ca- 
 tastrophe with which the last chapter closed, and 
 Mr. Wilbur, springing down from the wagon, 
 ran to where the accident occurred and looked 
 over. Clara had recognized the unfortunate man 
 as Walter Hart. She and her companion sat, 
 with bated breath, watching Mr. Wilbur, as he 
 stood with fixed gaze apparently staring down, 
 as they supposed, at the mangled remains among 
 the jagged pieces of rock below. Chance or 
 Providence had interfered in Walter's behalf, 
 and he was saved from a horrible death in a 
 simple, and yet a miraculous manner. Had he 
 and the calf fallen a little more to either side, 
 half of my story could not have been told with- 
 out the aid of imagination. To prevent the rope 
 from slipping, Walter bad taken a couple of turns 
 of it around his hand in the form of a half-hitch, 
 and when he fell it held firmly. A tree growing 
 out from the side of the cliff had caught the rope, 
 Walter going on one side and the calf on the 
 other. The calf's neck was broken, but Walter, 
 having caught at some bushes, thereby breaking 
 the force of his fall, was not seriously injured.
 
 100 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 His face and hands were bleeding from slight 
 cuts, and his arm felt almost as though it had 
 parted company with the shoulder, but the 
 clump of bushes had prevented broken bones and 
 enabled him to grasp the rope with his left hand 
 in time to ease the strain upon his captive limb. 
 The calf's weight held him suspended in the 
 air about ten feet below the base of the tree, 
 which curved outward, having its roots firmly 
 fastened in the strata of the rock. 
 
 "Are you badly hurt?" asked Mr. Wilbur. 
 
 "Not very much," said Walter faintly, al- 
 though his appearance indicated the contrary. 
 
 "Keep cool," shouted Mr. Wilbur, "and I'll 
 soon have you up. Can you reach the side with 
 your feet?" 
 
 "No," answered Walter, "I am too far out." 
 
 Eunning back to the wagon, Mr. Wilbur said 
 to his wife, "get out Lucy, quick, and help me. " 
 They had heard him talking to W T alter and knew 
 the latter must have escaped death in some way, 
 so without asking questions both women 
 scrambled to the ground. 
 
 "Take the reins off the horses," cried Mr. 
 Wilbur as he ran behind the wagon and took out 
 a pair of strong rawhide halters. Loosening 
 the whiffletrees from the wagon tongue, he tied 
 the reins double, to the large crosspiece, knotted 
 the halters on the end of them, and then led the 
 horses as near as possible to the tree, which was 
 not far below the roadway. Holding himself by 
 the bushes with one hand, he carefully reached 
 down with the other, and after some difficulty, 
 owing to his awkward position, made a
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 101 
 
 strong fastening to the rope where it passed 
 around the tree. "Now, my boy, look out," 
 called Mr. Wilbur, "we are going to pull you 
 up, and you must have a care for the sharp points 
 of rock. " Walter announced his readiness, and 
 Mr. Wilbur told his wife to start the horses 
 slowly, while he stood at the edge to help the 
 injured man over it. They soon had him lying 
 exhausted on a little spot of grass nearby, and 
 the fright and reaction rendered him speechless, 
 almost unconscious. After a few minutes Wal- 
 ter was able to mount his horse again, with Mr. 
 Wilbur's assistance, and he expressed the most 
 earnest, sincere thanks, to which the timely res- 
 cuer answered that "anybody would have done as 
 much." Walter was deeply moved. Holding 
 Mr. Wilbur's hand his face spoke even more 
 gratitude than the words he uttered. As he rode 
 
 slowly away toward H , feeling very lame and 
 
 sore, Walter's thoughts were busy. Caring little 
 for the wishes of others, he had always sought his 
 own pleasure, but now, saved from an untimely 
 death as it seemed for a purpose, he determined 
 to atone for his past selfishness by devoting more 
 energy in future to the comfort and happiness of 
 those around him. He had noticed Clara's looks 
 of concern and would have liked to apologize for 
 his previous conduct, yet this could await a 
 more favorable opportunity. He had rejoiced at 
 Will's arrest, thinking there might be some 
 chance for himself with Clara, but now Walter 
 decided to help his successful rival if it were 
 possible to do so. It did not seem to him that 
 Will could be guilty of the crime of which he
 
 102 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 was accused, and, while turning the matter over 
 in his' mind, Walter thought of a circumstance 
 that might lead to an important clew in discover- 
 ing the real criminal. The wagon with its three 
 occupants was soon speeding on again, and the 
 occurrence, so startling though with no fatal 
 termination, just witnessed, furnished a new 
 topic of conversation. Mr. Wilbur kept his 
 horses going at a lively pace, and the women's 
 tongues went quite as fast. Their journey lay 
 
 through M and along a small river which had 
 
 no doubt in past ages been much wider and by 
 repeated overflowings given the valley a deep, 
 rich alluvial soil that made it in after years to 
 teem with vegetable life and agricultural activity. 
 
 This broad level expanse, between high hills 
 and occasional cliffs, was dotted, throughout its 
 entire length, by well-kept farmsteads, each 
 giving every evidence of the rural wealth the 
 locality possessed, with M bespired and em- 
 bowered, near the upper end, and away to the 
 north, where the branch railroad tapping this 
 region joined a greater artery of trade, the 
 county seat. Our friends at last reached their 
 destination, and at sight of the jail Clara's 
 heart sank and her face paled. This low, gloomy- 
 looking structure of rough stone with its heavy 
 door and small barred windows held her lover a 
 captive. 
 
 "What a shame! What a disgrace!" So she 
 thought as the dark, dank interior made her 
 shiver with dread. "This is law! This is jus- 
 tice! The criminal go free and unfettered, while 
 the innocent are pounced upon and borne to a
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 103 
 
 place of durance, where they are kept until the 
 law proves them not guilty by finding in the 
 end that there was really no cause for sus- 
 picion!" The reader knows there was ample 
 cause for suspicion, but Clara was happily ig- 
 norant of it, and "where ignorance is bliss 'tis 
 folly to be wise." 
 
 Mrs. Wilbur said that Clara should enter the 
 cell first, and they would soon follow. Will was 
 sitting on the edge of his low couch, wondering 
 what Clara thought of him and whether she 
 would come to see him, when the cell door swung 
 open, and the subject of his thoughts stood be- 
 fore him. Springing to his feet with a glad cry 
 of surprise, he clasped the lovely, unresisting 
 girl to his heart, thrilling with joy at this new 
 evidence of unbending, unalterable love. "I 
 knew you would come, dear," said he, stroking 
 her raven tresses as they rested against his bent 
 blond head, while she as yet was too full for 
 speech. "You do not think I'm guilty?" 
 
 "How can you ask it?" said she, at last gain- 
 ing her voice, and one soft hand pressed affec- 
 tionately against his cheek. He caught it in 
 his own and held its palm to his lips. 
 
 "Suppose they indict me?" he asked again. 
 
 "That would make no difference," she an- 
 swered fervently, with a trusting glance of her 
 dark eyes up into the blue ones so close above. 
 
 "But at any rate, Clara, you are braving public 
 opinion by visiting a man arrested for the mur- 
 der of your own father!" 
 
 "Public nonsense!'' she cried pettishly, trying 
 in vain to free herself, "do you think I am like
 
 104 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 a weathervane, whirling about with every change 
 in the wind?" 
 
 "No! no! darling," answered Will hastily, 
 "but you know what will be said, and I shouldn't 
 like to feel myself the cause of it." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Clara almost in tears, "if you 
 don't want me to come, I shall surely stay away. " 
 
 "My dear, dear girl!" cried Will, kissing her 
 sweet lips again and again, as he held her fast, 
 "I longed so to see you, but I could not be selfish 
 enough to wish you to come under the circum- 
 stances, and yet I felt sure you would." 
 
 "If you are glad I came," said Clara, "then 
 say no more about it. I am tired of so much 
 harping on that one string. Miss Wilkins is 
 forev "here an interruption occurred, and Clara 
 was glad afterward that she had not been allowed 
 to finish the sentence. She quickly disengaged 
 herself from Will's embrace, blushing furiously, 
 and Mrs. W T ilbur thought it a pleasant thing to 
 see, for Clara had been so pale before. Although 
 always beautiful, the deep color, and the added 
 brilliancy of her eyes, made a wondrous im- 
 provement. Will greeted his foster parents 
 affectionately, and one to see it would not think 
 he was not a son in fact as well as feeling. Mr. 
 Wilbur brought in a large basket filled with good 
 things to eat. 
 
 "Mother thought they wouldn't feed you very 
 well," said he, "so I think you will have cakes 
 and pies enough now to bring on a severe attack 
 of dyspepsia." 
 
 "Well, you needn't say anything, " retorted 
 "mother," "you like knick-knacks just as much
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 105 
 
 as anybody else does." Turning to Clara, she re- 
 sumed, "I knew he could get only coarse food, 
 and I thought a piece of pie or cake would help 
 him to tolerate it." 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Will, with a fond glance 
 first at her and then into the basket, "you are 
 right. I am very glad to have something from 
 home. I shall be better able to appreciate it 
 now than ever." 
 
 The jailer, a careful conscientious man, had at 
 first demurred, but after satisfying himself that 
 the basket contained no means to an avenue of 
 escape, he had allowed it to be taken in. 
 
 "Is there anything you wish me to do?" asked 
 Mr. Wilbur. 
 
 "No," answered Will, "there is nothing to 
 be done. The grand jury sits in a few days, 
 and then I shall be free, for I am confident that 
 they can't indict me." 
 
 Mr. Wilbur related the accident to Walter 
 Hart, and the rescue, saying at the finish : "I 
 think that narrow escape from death will make a 
 complete change in him. I noticed it at once. 
 He was always a sort of devil-may-care boy, 
 with no regard or respect for any one, but some- 
 how it seems to me he's going to be different." 
 
 "I hope so," said Will. "Walter is not 
 bad at heart, but he has always had his own way 
 and plenty of money to spend, and that's what 
 spoiled him." 
 
 After a few minutes the jailer came in to re- 
 mind them that the time was up, and as they 
 bade Will good-by, Mr. Wilbur said : 
 
 "Keep up your courage, my boy."
 
 106 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Oh, yes," returned Will, laughing, "this is 
 only a little experience in the acquirement of a 
 knowledge of law." 
 
 If he had known the amount of "experience" 
 yet before him there, he might not have laughed. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur and Clara were in very 
 good spirits as they started homeward. The 
 cheerful way in which Will looked at the matter, 
 and their confidence in his "summing up" of the 
 case, made them cheerful also, for wasn't he 
 
 almost a lawyer? They stopped in M to make 
 
 a few purchases, and not again until the post 
 office in H was reached. Here everyone 
 stopped to inquire for mail, whether expecting 
 any or not, and the arrival of the stage was 
 always a signal for the waiting delegation outside 
 to enter and watch their respective red-numbered 
 glass-fronted "boxes" while the postmaster 
 with hurried care, plunked letters, weekly 
 papers, advertising circulars, and divers small 
 parcels, Uncle Sam's flotsam and jetsam, each 
 into its proper place, after which, applicants at 
 the "delivery window" were received with due 
 solemnity. Bosh Warton's "important" letter, 
 that never came, was a standing joke among 
 those who, though receiving no more, said less 
 about it. Bosh was sitting on a box near the 
 door when Mr. Wilbur drove up to the platform, 
 and as the latter alighted, he remarked : 
 
 "Be'n over tew th' jail I guess. Th' boy must 
 a be'n glad t' see y'u all," emphasizing the 
 "all," and looking hard at Clara. "Must be 
 kinder lunsum thar, shet in so by hisself. " Mr. 
 Wilbur was on the point of making an angry 
 reply, but thinking better of it, he passed the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 107 
 
 old mischief-maker without a word. Bosh had 
 seen them pass his house in the morning, and 
 ere this he had set other pivoted tongues to 
 wagging, so that in various places hands were 
 raised and eyes rolled in mock horror at Clara's 
 presence in the wagon. A letter addressed to 
 Henry Mason had been lying in his box for two 
 or three days, and there was also a small package 
 for him that had arrived by the last mail. These 
 Mr. Wilbur brought out to Clara. She made no 
 attempt to examine them before reaching home, 
 but by that time her curiosity was so much ex- 
 cited that she stopped in the center of the kit- 
 chen, barely answering Miss Wilkins, who re- 
 marked her early return, and tore open the let- 
 ter. As she did so the little parcel previously 
 tucked under her arm fell to the floor. Instead 
 of picking it up at once, she removed the double 
 sheet of closely written note paper from its en- 
 velope and began to read the contents. Mean- 
 while Miss Wilkins placed some bread dough in 
 the stove oven, and then proceeded to gather up 
 a lot of paper lying about near Clara in a litter 
 on the floor. Earlier in the day Miss Wilkins 
 had been sorting over some old dress patterns 
 and cutting out new ones in place of those that 
 were worn, and had neglected to clear away the 
 refuse until now. After collecting it all, she 
 pressed it down into the fire with a stovelid, 
 and a subdued roar followed as the paper ignited. 
 The epistle Clara was perusing ran as follows : 
 
 "My DEAR HENBY: You know how often I have 
 expressed my sorrow and regret that the invest-
 
 108 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 ments I have made for you have been so disas- 
 trous, and you know that in every instance, I 
 have thought I was using the best possible judg- 
 ment. Stocks have been so uncertain and un- 
 stable lately, even those I could have sworn would 
 go up going down, that I am almost sick of the 
 game. I am quite comfortable as you know, 
 and am thinking seriously of leaving the Street 
 for good. When I learn something more definite 
 on the subject to which you refer in your last 
 letter, I shall take a run up to see that little girl 
 of yours, providing, of course, it is as we hope. 
 I fear she wouldn't care for an old fogy like me, 
 but I feel young, if I arn not so in fact, and with 
 a young wife might yet become quite youthful. 
 I made a little on that Union Pacific I bought 
 for you seme time ago, but was obliged to chip 
 in some of my own money to hold it for a favor- 
 able turn. At first it went down a few points, 
 giving me a fright, but, feeling sure it would be 
 bulled high again I held on until this happened, 
 and sold just at the top notch and just in the 
 nick of time, for it slumped as quickly as it had 
 jumped. I tell you this buying on margin is 
 shaky business. The amount netted is five 
 thousand dollars, which in the form of bills of 
 various denominations I have carefully wrapped 
 and tied ready for mailing to you. It is a risky 
 way to send it I know, but as the wrapper bears 
 a Nassau Street stationer's stamp I think it will 
 go through all right. If you were not so fool- 
 ishly afraid of people up there finding out your 
 business I could send a check or remit the 
 money by express. I am sorry you are still
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 109 
 
 several thousands behind, but hoping for more 
 good luck and less frequent fluctuations the 
 wrong way, we can only try to watch the closer. 
 As ever I am sincerely your friend and obedient 
 servant, WENTWOBTH PROCTOB. ' ' 
 
 Clara's astonishment was complete. So this 
 was the way her father had lost his money. 
 "Still several thousands behind. " What was it 
 that prevented this man from taking "a run 
 up?" This was the man of whom her father 
 had spoken, and who had been losing his friend's 
 money, barring the last bit of luck, to the last 
 dollar by injudicious speculations. She was red 
 with indignation at the way he referred to her, 
 and at thought of her paternal parent's perfidy, 
 still the author of her being was dead and his 
 shortcomings should be forgotten. Handing 
 the letter to Miss Wilkins, who was wondering 
 at her agitation, Clara cried with an angry snap 
 to the words, "Read that! and tell me what you 
 think of it." Adjusting her glasses, Miss Wil- 
 kins went carefully through it and seemed but 
 very little surprised. She had suspected all 
 along that Henry Mason was doing something of 
 the sort. The baneful fever rife in the atmos- 
 phere of Wall Street had so infected his veins 
 that nothing but poverty or death could end it 
 and this last had happened. It looks easy. Buy 
 a stock that is low, when it is sure to rise if it 
 moves at all; a rumor comes from Washington; 
 something happens in some other part of the 
 world; your stock jumps, and you sell out several 
 thousands to the good. Jf such is the result of
 
 110 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 your first venture, you are a gone man, for you 
 will go back to win more and wind up with 
 nothing. Many a man has been lured to finan- 
 cial death by this mirage of sudden wealth, and 
 added his whitening bones to the ever-increasing 
 pile. The poor blind sheep, who go there to be 
 shorn, seem unconscious of the fact until their 
 fleece is gone, and if it grows out again they 
 will even return for another shearing. 
 
 On finishing the letter, Miss Wilkins looked 
 up and asked : 
 
 "Did the money come?" 
 
 "Why, yes. That is, I suppose so," and as 
 she spoke, Clara took a step backward, looking 
 down at the floor. "A small parcel came and 
 I dropped it while opening the letter." 
 
 Miss Wilkins turned suddenly white and 
 almost fell into a chair, exclaiming with dismay. 
 "I must have taken it up with that paper and 
 put it in the stove!" 
 
 She looked helplessly at Clara and the latter 
 returned the look with nearly as blank an ex- 
 pression. Clara had never possessed much money 
 of her own, had never realb' known it's value, 
 and, of course, was the first to recover. 
 
 "We-ell,"said she slowly, "it can't be helped 
 now." 
 
 "But just think of it, " exclaimed Miss Wilkins 
 again, "five thousand dollars literally gone up in 
 smoke!" She appeared most woebegone in- 
 deed. "Isn't it dreadful! Such a lot of money! 
 If I hadn't been in such a hurry to find out 
 what was in that letter you had, I might have 
 noticed it. I'll get my money and give it to you
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. Ill 
 
 now. It isn't much compared to that, but it's 
 all I have." 
 
 "Stop!" cried Clara, restraining her as she 
 attempted to rise, "don't be foolish. If I had 
 picked up the parcel right away this could not 
 have happened. You keep your money and we'll 
 do just as we have planned. I don't think that 
 five thousand dollars was honest money anyway, 
 for I've heard it said that the business done in 
 Wall Street was no better than gambling." 
 
 "We had nothing to do with it ourselves." 
 
 "No," answered Clara, "except to burn it up, 
 and I am more to blame than you. Let the sub- 
 ject drop and think no more about it. For my 
 part, I don't care. And I guess we can manage 
 to get along all right without it." 
 
 "No doubt we can. But you know money 
 doesn't grow on every bush." 
 
 "It's well that it doesn't," retorted Clara, 
 "for then it would be of no more value than the 
 leaves are now. What's the good of crying over 
 spilled milk or, rather, burned money?" 
 
 Miss Wilkins' only answer was silence, which 
 she broke after awhile by asking : 
 
 "Don't you think we should write to Mr. 
 Proctor and tell him of your father's death?" 
 
 "You can do so if you like," answered Clara, 
 with an angry flash of her eyes, "but I am sure 
 I shall not. The mean, conceited old thing! 
 With a young wife he could be quite youthful! 
 He's probably one of those wine-drinking club- 
 men, who, they say, are sick half the time with 
 the gout. A young wife indeed!" Clara stood 
 tapping her foot vehemently on the floor, as
 
 112 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 though to make her words more forcible, while 
 one hand rested on the table. Going to the 
 stove she removed a lid, threw the letter into the 
 fire, and then went to change her dress for a 
 more comfortable yei scarcely less becoming 
 calico wrapper. Miss Wilkins arose, looked in 
 the oven at the bread, and put on the kettle for 
 tea. We must go back a bit. On the day pre- 
 ceding this, while Clara was away at the Wil- 
 burs, and when the rain was pouring its hard- 
 est, Miss W T ilkins heard a mournful whining at 
 the door. She opened it, and there crouching 
 on the threshold, was a poor half-drowned puppy 
 a few weeks old. His black shaggy coat was 
 matted and dripping, his naturally bushy tail 
 was now almost a nonentity, and a more pitiful 
 object could hardly be imagined as he stopped 
 shivering for an instant and looked wistfully up 
 at Miss Wilkins, whose kindly face reassured him 
 at once. She took the little canine waif, that 
 some heartless person had no doubt dropped in 
 the street, dried and warmed him before the fire, 
 gave him a good meal, and made him a nice bed 
 in a box in the woodshed near a door that 
 opened into this necessary adjunct of a country 
 house. 
 
 Maltese Tom, the cat, walked about the while 
 viewing these proceedings with jealous disap- 
 proval. Doggie was quite recovered the next 
 day. When Clara returned that afternoon he 
 was playing mischievously about the kitchen 
 floor, and "thereby hangs a tale" but that 
 comes later. 
 
 When one has retired for the night the still-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 113 
 
 ness and darkness set thoughts to galloping 
 through an active or troubled brain, until hours 
 are sometimes spent in wooing sleep. Clara lay 
 long awake that night. Her life, previous to the 
 last five or six months, had been comparatively 
 uneventful, and it seemed that she had lived 
 years in this short space of time. She had lost 
 a father, just now a fortune the loss of five 
 thousand dollars is not a matter to be forgotten 
 the next moment and she might lose her sweet- 
 heart. Would happiness ever come to her again ? 
 How often lately she had asked herself this ques- 
 tion. She thought of the robin and its mate, 
 and of the hopes that were kindled in her breast 
 by the incident. What if Will were sentenced 
 to hang or to imprisonment for life? She won- 
 dered how she could ever live out her allotted 
 days, gradually becoming old and withered, with 
 no strong arm on which to lean, no manly voice 
 to comfort, and no childish prattle to warm her 
 motherly heart. But there was W T ilkins, she was 
 patient, uttering no word of complaint at her lot 
 that made her life so incomplete, and submitting 
 to fate without a murmur. "Pshaw! How fool- 
 ish I am to make mountains out of molehills! 
 Will is not even indicted, and he says they'll not 
 be able to do so." Thus Clara's thoughts ran, 
 but exhausted nature at last held sway and she 
 slept. 
 
 Half our trouble comes from making moun- 
 tains of molehills, and we know it, yet always 
 stick to the habit.
 
 114 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 WILL AND WALTER MEET THE STORE IS ROBBED 
 
 JOHN SHORT GETS A DUCKING. 
 
 THE old threadbare phrase, "time will tell," is 
 a bit of nonsense, and the person using it is no 
 prophet. Some people use it though instead of 
 saying, "when the time comes you will see that 
 I knew whereof I spoke." Squire Blowhard 
 gave it this construction, to which he added a 
 look of mysterious wisdom, and listeners shook 
 their heads in doubt as to Will Benson's early 
 release, while still believing him innocent of 
 crime. The grand jury met and Will was in- 
 dicted, to the consternation of himself and his 
 friends. Will thought there must be more 
 important evidence than what he knew. But 
 what had he done, or where had he been except 
 about ten minutes at the house, not in it, on the 
 day previous to the discovery of the murder 
 that enough suspicion could be created for a jury 
 of sane men to find an indictment? If he knew 
 what fateful circumstances might be pointing at 
 him he could analyze them and judge of their 
 weight. No! There ivas nothing more! There 
 could be nothing more! He had been seen on 
 the premises that day, and this flimsy thread 
 they had magnified into a rope which would be
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 115 
 
 a spider's web at the trial. This conclusion 
 seemed hardly satisfactory. How could they 
 have made a case on such slight grounds? There 
 was something strange, something mysterious 
 about it, and he shuddered at the thought of 
 possibilities. While thus painfully and fruit- 
 lessly cogitating the subject of so much vital im- 
 portance to him, the cell door opened and in 
 walked Walter Hart, with hand extended. Ris- 
 ing and grasping the hand as frankly as it was 
 proffered, Will exclaimed : 
 
 "Why, hello, Walter! I am glad to see you." 
 
 "Thank you," returned Walter, flushing with 
 pleasure, "I was afraid you might still have some 
 ill-feeling toward me. I have given you good 
 reason, and I came to ask your pardon." 
 
 "Don't speak of it, Walter," said Will, offer- 
 ing him his only chair, "there is no reason why 
 we should not be the best of friends, and I need 
 all I can get." 
 
 "Count me as one of the stanchest of them," 
 said Walter earnestly, "and if there's anything 
 I can do to help you, speak up." 
 
 "I appreciate your offer fully, Walter, but I 
 don't know as there is much you can do. In 
 fact, I am not sure that I know anything. I am 
 completely puzzled." Walter had taken the 
 chair, and as he looked at Will standing before 
 him, with hands clasped behind his back, feet 
 wide apart, and a troubled expression on his fine 
 clear-cut features, he thought it strange that such 
 an unmistakably honorable young fellow should 
 be even suspected of guilt. He forgot that the 
 law ignores all outward appearances.
 
 116 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "I can't understand it," Will resumed, taking 
 a turn (necessarily a short one) about the room, 
 and stopping again in the same place, "that 
 grand jury did the most idiotic thing I ever 
 heard of. I'll tell you what you can do for me, 
 Walter; wire to Mr. Spencer, the lawyer in 
 Albany, with whom I was studying. He will 
 take my case, I am sure, and will know what's 
 to be done. " Taking a pencil and piece of paper 
 from his pocket, Will wrote a few words and 
 handed the paper to Walter, who promised to 
 attend to it at once. 
 
 "I shall do a little prying around myself," 
 said Walter. "Something occurred about three 
 or four days before the murder that has set me 
 to thinking. I may not learn anything to help 
 your case much, but there's nothing like trying. " 
 Walter related his narrow escape, speaking very 
 warmly of Mr. Wilbur, and at parting he shook 
 Will's hand again in a way that said as plainly as 
 words, "I am with you until death." 
 
 A buspicious moisture was in the eyes of both, 
 and neither spoke, yet each understood. Both 
 felt that this newly pledged friendship would be 
 lasting, and so it afterward proved. Will had 
 not expected to see so complete a change in his 
 former arrogant, conceited rival. The look of 
 insolent self-esteem, had given place to one of 
 serious earnestness and respectful interest. Even 
 Walter's slight dark mustache seemed to curl less 
 scornfully. 
 
 As Will looked through the grated window of 
 his cell, he thought, "What a happy condition 
 is freedom 1" Would that bird on the tree out-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 117 
 
 side sing as sweetly if caged like me? In imag- 
 ination he saw the fallen crest, the drooping 
 wing, and the mournful eye. The song would be 
 hushed, but, make a way of escape, and the eyes 
 would brighten, the wings rise, and away it 
 would soar to its own wild haunts with a burst 
 of melody. The sunshine had never seemed so 
 bright or nature so attractive as now, when seen 
 with the eyes of a captive. Many of us are in a 
 certain sense captives. We have the freedom of 
 the outer air at times, but strain our eyes as we 
 may, there are no green smiling fields, cool 
 pleasant woods, or smoothly flowing willow-bor- 
 dered streams to be seen except in memory's 
 distance, far behind. 
 
 A moment before Will was buoyed up by hope; 
 now he was again despondent. It is ever thus 
 with the kaleidoscopic mind of man. Always 
 changing, and never for long the same. The 
 long summer days dragged slowly by. Will was 
 allowed his law books, and what was of equal or 
 greater importance to him in that enforced lone- 
 liness his violin. It was by no means a Stradi- 
 varius, but its accents were soft and sweet when 
 it sang of love, mellow and sad when his spirits 
 were ebbing low, and loud and sprightly when 
 hope was running high. To find out who are 
 your friends, get into trouble. Will found that 
 many whom he had hardly considered as such 
 were among the first to visit him with disinter- 
 ested sympathy, while some, whose acclamations 
 of friendship had been the loudest, kept severely 
 awaj r . Clara went to see him as often as did the 
 W T ilburs, and each time felt more convinced of
 
 118 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 the correctness of her course in ignoring all 
 rules of conduct but those dictated by her own 
 conscience. This requires great moral courage, 
 which, in her case, was born of love and a natu- 
 rally willful spirit. Many sarcastic remarks were 
 made in her hearing by young women envious 
 of her beauty, but she gave no heed except to 
 set her teeth the harder. 
 
 "Is there another girl who would do the same 
 under like circumstances?" Will asked himself, 
 and answered, "No! not one!" 
 
 Clara was worried and anxious, notwithstand- 
 ing Will's assurances of confidence in the abil- 
 ity of Lawyer Spencer. "Why," said Will, "he 
 can brush away all that's against me with a 
 sweep of his hand." 
 
 Miss Wilkins told Clara of somethings she nad 
 heard that verified her former predictions, and 
 tried once more to induce Clara to refrain from 
 visiting Will. The result was a stormy scene, 
 and Miss Wilkins declared she would wash her 
 hands of the whole affair. Clara could make her- 
 self the talk of the neighborhood if she chose 
 as she already had done and she (Miss Wilkins) 
 would interfere no more. After this Clara be- 
 came despondent and morose, and Miss Wilkins 
 ended by trying to comfort the poor girl, whose 
 colorless face and lusterless eyes proved that 
 nothing could alter her feelings toward Will. 
 If he were convicted, how would it affect Clara? 
 Miss Wilkins trembled at the thought. Such is 
 the love of a woman of that temperament that 
 she is swayed and controlled by it alone. All 
 reasoning, all logical conclusions, and all deduc-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 119 
 
 tions give way to it, and better so. The world 
 is better for it, no matter what learned philoso- 
 phers may say to the contrary. 
 
 The letter from Wentworth Proctor Clara had 
 destroyed, but, fortunately, she remembered his 
 address, which had been printed at the top. 
 Miss Wilkins wrote to the New York banker, and 
 gave the letter to a neighbor-boy to be mailed. 
 Before reaching the post office, this thoughtless 
 lad met some playfellows and all went to the 
 millpond for a swim. When he thought of his 
 errand again it could not be performed ; the let- 
 ter was lost. 
 
 A number of petty thefts had been committed 
 since Will's arrest. A few chickens had been 
 taken here and there, and an occasional farm- 
 house cellar broken into. One Saturday night a 
 man living near the church went with his family 
 to visit a relative a mile or so out of the village, 
 and on returning*the next morning found that 
 a thief had been there in their absence. Some 
 articles of value were missing, beside a baking 
 of bread and various other eatables. 
 
 These occurrences, following so closely on the 
 heels of the original sensation that created by 
 the murder of Henry Mason kept excitement 
 alive. Squire Blowhard blustered about, sent 
 the constable on several wild-goose chases, and 
 still the depredator remained at large. Doors 
 and windows were doubly secured, and a num- 
 ber of the villagers watched their hen-roosts 
 for a time at night armed with shotguns. After 
 awhile, when things were settled down again to 
 a partially normal state, it was reported one
 
 120 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 morning that the post office and general store 
 had been robbed. Some cash that was in the 
 drawer, some cigars and tobacco, a ham, a lot of 
 soda crackers, about half a cheese, a salted cod- 
 fish, and a few other things had been appropri- 
 ated, altogether having undoubtedly made a 
 heavy back-load. The kleptomaniac in his 
 hurry had unwound and used the greater part 
 of a bolt of calico in making up the bundle, 
 when plenty of stronger material lay ready at 
 hand. Evidently he had no correspondents, for 
 the postage stamps were all intact. The clerk, 
 who occupied the room above, had slept 
 peacefully in the meantime with a big Colt's 
 revolver under his pillow. 
 
 Again the community was aroused, but nothing 
 came of it. All were anxious for the safety of 
 their goods and chattels, yet the slick rascal so 
 covered his tracks and concealed his whereabouts 
 that they were at a loss how to act or what to 
 do. How long was this sort of thing to be kept 
 up? Now more than ever people were con- 
 vinced of Will Benson's innocence. The ques- 
 tion troubling their minds was, "Who will be 
 the next victim of this unknown thief and (as 
 many believed) murderer?" 
 
 Not long after the robbery of the store, half a 
 dozen men were sitting on the platform in front 
 of it one evening discussing for the fiftieth 
 time the subjects of general interest the mur- 
 der and the thefts. 
 
 "Wa-al," said John Short, the stage-driver, 
 "I guess Squire Blowhard has made a mistake 
 this time, fer it's dead sartin t' my mind thet
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 121 
 
 th' man what's be'n robbin' 'raound here's th' 
 one thet killed Hen Mason. They's some folks 
 not fur away," he went on, "thet thinks they 
 knows a hull lot, but I'll bet b'gosh afore they 
 git done they won't know nothin'.'"' 
 
 Slapping hi, knee, he looked hard at Bosh 
 Warton, who had just come out of the store, 
 where he had been to exchange a basket of eggs 
 for some tea and sugar, "an' th' rest in snuff fer 
 th' old woman." 
 
 "Who be yeou lookin' at?" asked Bosh, with 
 an attempt at sternness and dignity. 
 
 "Yeou got yer spec's on; kaint y'u see?" 
 
 "Did yeou mean me?" snorted Bosh. 
 
 "Ya-as, I raeant yeou, gol darn y'u," said 
 Short emphatically, as he glared at the old man 
 with fine contempt. 
 
 "Don't yeou swear at me," cried Bosh, put- 
 ting down his basket and assuming a threatening 
 attitude, " 'cause I won't hev it." 
 
 "Huh! Yeou kaint skeer nobody," sneered 
 Short, "I don't keer what yeou'll hev er won't 
 hev; but I'm goin' t' tell y'u this much; yer a 
 mean, sneakin', meddlin' old cuss. An' yer 
 agoin' t' court t' swear Will Benson's life away, 
 ef y'u kin." 
 
 Bosh grew lived with rage doubled his fists, 
 and swung his arms, but made no attempt to 
 strike, for his valor was, like that of "Bob 
 Acres," of the oozing quality. Snatching up his 
 basket, he shouted as he started away: "By th' 
 Old Harry! I'll see th' squire, an' find aout ef a 
 peaceable man kaint go into this store 'thout bein' 
 insulted in this upstreperous way!"
 
 122 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Hang yer humbly old picter, " returned 
 Short, amid the laughter of the others, "I don't 
 keer no more fer th' squire ner I dew fer yeou." 
 
 It was well along toward twilight, and, 
 although the day had been hot, the air was now 
 becoming delightfully cool. Some boys were 
 playing ball in the street near the store, with 
 much noise and great fun. Short was perched 
 on a small box tilted back against a post of the 
 piazza at the edge of the platform where it ran 
 out over the little brook and pool mentioned in 
 the first chapter, and in dangerous proximity to 
 the ball players. One of the boys struck the 
 ball a blow with his bat that sent it whizzing 
 close to Short's head, causing him to dodge, and, 
 losing his equilibrium, he fell into the pool, with 
 a splash of mud and water. Proceeding on its 
 destructive way, like a shot from a besieging 
 cannon, the ball crashed through the store win- 
 dow, knocked a row of bottles of patent medicine 
 from a shelf, hit Mr. Young in the eye, and 
 dropped to the floor. Three of the bottles in 
 falling struck some flatirons on a shelf lower 
 down, broke, and their contents ran into a bar- 
 rel of granulated sugar. 
 
 The flatirons were out of place, and so was 
 the cover of the sugar barrel. The clerk in this 
 store was a very thoughtless, absent-minded 
 youth, and, but for his scrupulous honesty, could 
 not have retained his position. He was a 
 great lover of Dickens, and one day while pon- 
 dering over the peculiarities of Uriah Heep, he 
 filled a molasses jug with kerosene, and nearly 
 lost to Mr. Young one of his best customers. I
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 123 
 
 am drifting away from the story. Mr. Young 
 was usually very circumspect in his language, 
 but this time he wrenched his reputation 
 severely, and broke the fourth commandment. 
 Hushing into the street bareheaded and coat- 
 less, he looked up and down, with a murderous 
 fire in his eyes. Could he have "laid, hands" on 
 those boys at that moment something serious 
 would have happened. They had very wisely 
 retired. In fact, vanished as quickly and com- 
 pletely as the mist before the morning sun. 
 Our friend Short was greeted with uproarious 
 laughter as he crawled out of the mixture of 
 mud and water that clung to every part of his 
 clothing. He was a sorry sight indeed. Just 
 before falling he had been thinking very hard, 
 and was about to make an observation when the 
 accident occurred. For fear of forgetting it and 
 losing an opportunity to gain credit as a man of 
 sagacity and insight, he said: "Boys, I've got 
 an idee." 
 
 "Yes," said Pete Smith, "I s'pose y'u hev. 
 Did y'u ever have one afore?" 
 
 "Yeou think yergosh blame smart don't y'u?" 
 retorted Short angrily. "I ain't jokin' now." 
 
 "No, I s'pose not," said the irrepressible 
 Smith, with a serio-comic expression of sym- 
 pathy; " 'taint no joke t' fall intew a puddle like 
 that; but I'm glad y'u got an idee at last. I 
 s'pose et seems kinder strange tew y'u." 
 
 "Ef I didn't know more'nyeou, Pete Smith, I 
 wouldn't say nothin' t' nobody." 
 
 "I s'pose yeou got an idee thet y'u sot up tew 
 slantindickler on that box."
 
 124 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Short was "mad nuff t' bite a ten-penny nail." 
 Yet Ms drenched condition, together with the 
 growing coolness of the air, made him anxious to 
 get home, so paying no further attention to 
 Smith, he proceeded to impart the information 
 that had set him to thinking. "Abaout three er 
 four days afore Hen Mason was killed a tramp- 
 ish-lookin' feller ses t' me, jest es I was goin' 
 raound th' turn, below th' dugway comin' up 
 
 from M , 'Say, old feller,' ses he, 'give us a 
 
 lift, won't y'u?' 'Got enny money?' ses I. 
 'Darned a bit,' ses he. 'Well,' ses I, 'then 
 walk.' He was es mad es thunder an' looked es 
 ef he'd like t' chew me. Hewus a blamed ugly- 
 lookin' cuss, an' I sed t' myself es I driven, ses 
 I, 'I'd hate t' meet him alone on a dark night, 
 less I had a bulldog er a shotgun.' 
 
 "What does all that palaver 'maount tew?" 
 interrupted Smith. 
 
 "Maount tew?" snapped Short, "yeou big 
 lunkhead, ef y'u'll keep yer maouth shet a minit 
 I'll tell y'u." 
 
 This created a laugh at the expense of Smith, 
 which pleased that worthy not at all, though he 
 was ever ready to ridicule others. 
 
 "Y'u see," resumed Short, "I've be'n a 
 thinkin' 'baout that there ever sence Will Ben- 
 son wus locked up. An' I'll bet a tew-cent 
 piece thet that feller's th' one what done th' 
 murder an' thievin'." 
 
 "Did you notice which way he went after you 
 left him?" asked Walter Hart, who had arrived 
 as Short began speaking of the"trampish-lookin' 
 feller."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 125 
 
 "He crossed over th' crick an' follered th' old 
 road." 
 
 The belief was expressed that the man whom 
 Short had seen was "quite likely" the guilty 
 person, yet after Short and Walter walked away 
 Smith made this uncomplimentary remark : 
 
 "Yeou kaint tell nothin' 'baout that Short; 
 mebbe he's manifactered that story aout o' hull 
 cloth, jest t' make us think he knows so much. 
 I've ketched him in lies afore now, an' I shud- 
 dent wonder a bit. I don't mind a man lyin' a 
 leetle on a hoss-trade, but when th' ain't no 
 money in it, it's darn small bizniss. " 
 
 With a self-satisfied air Smith left the group 
 and went around to the shed for his team. The 
 others stayed but little longer, and the store 
 was deserted by all except Mr. Young and the 
 clerk, who were trying to "sort out" the medi- 
 cated sugar, while the unlucky lad listened to a 
 severe lecture on carelessness. 
 
 From the description of the probable tramp 
 that Walter got through conversation with the 
 stage-driver after leaving the store he came to 
 the conclusion that this was the man he had seen 
 himself on the same day while coming over the 
 hill south of the village. When Walter saw him 
 it was late in the afternoon. He had just come 
 out of the woods into the road, and stood looking 
 intently down as though trying to locate some 
 particular house. He had not heard Walter's 
 approach, and at the latter's "Good-evening," 
 started, turned, and walked quickly awaj-, appar- 
 ently anxious to avoid notice. Walter had 
 thought no more of the circumstance until it came
 
 126 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 to his mind on the occasion of his visit at the 
 jail, and this was what he referred to in talking 
 with Will, as the reader may remember. On 
 hearing Walter's story, Lawyer Spencer had 
 engaged a detective, whose efforts so far were 
 unfruitful, and who scouted the idea that the 
 murderer would remain to steal in the very 
 neighborhood where his greater crime had been 
 committed.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 127 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 GREAT EXCITEMENT AT THE CHUBCH AND WHAT CAUSED IT. 
 
 SOME of the pleasantest memories of my early 
 days cluster around the church in this little 
 village. It was the weekly gathering place of 
 not only the nearby residents, but the surround- 
 ing farmer folks as well. Up the valley from 
 below, down the valley from above, and over the 
 hills to the north and south they came, garbed, 
 by the way, not as homely as may be supposed. 
 The younger women kept in touch with style 
 through metropolitan fashion papers, and deft 
 fingers with good taste did the rest. Though, 
 too, the dress of some were quaint, yet always 
 the best they could afford. It was a goodly con- 
 gregation that assembled there; stalwart sun- 
 tanned youths, comely maidens, healthy, happy 
 children, whose playground was "all creation," 
 the quiet middle-aged, and the old patriarchs of 
 the flock. There were two of these aged 
 "nature's noblemen" whom I particularly call 
 to mind. Experience is the father of practical 
 knowledge, which comes only with the lapse of 
 time, and, had not their advice gone "in one ear 
 and out the other," I might have profited 
 thereby. The village had been slow of growth, 
 but they had seen its site covered with a shim-
 
 128 A COUNTRY TRAGEr>V. 
 
 mering placid sheet of water, where hunters 
 stopped to fish, and where the frightened deer 
 sought safety from the pursuing hound. They 
 had both been moderately successful from a 
 monetary point of view, which, with a naturally 
 cheerful disposition, made each a pleasant con- 
 versationalist. I could sit for hours and listen 
 to their anecdotes and reminiscences of the days 
 when, according to them, times were better, 
 youths were stronger, and maidens handsomer. 
 We hear this now, our children will hear it, and 
 so on to the end of humanity; the same ancient 
 story of "The good old times that are past." 
 What does it mean? Simply that we are all in- 
 fluenced by the action of memory surrounded by 
 the halo of years. 
 
 The minister to this devout band of worship- 
 ers not all worshipers, to be sure, though 
 appearing devout was a man whose presence 
 would command respect and reverence. He was 
 past middle-age, and his dignified yet kind and 
 pleasant face, winning manner, and exemplary 
 life, made him an ideal Christian leader. One of 
 the most punctual and strict in attendance at the 
 morning service was Bosh War ton. His wife 
 used to accompany him until he fell into the 
 habit of going to sleep and snoring, when she 
 determined to stay at home, being unable to 
 stand the subdued tittering of the younger mem- 
 bers of the congregation. If she went, it would 
 be necessary to keep up a continuous punching 
 of him in the ribs, attracting attention which, to 
 her sensitive irritable nature, was "gall and 
 wormwood." There seemed to be a soothing
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 129 
 
 influence in the minister's voice that quickly 
 induced drowsiness in Bosh, ending in sounds 
 like the distant bellowings of a mad bull. The 
 strain on the minister's nerves was dreadful. 
 He would request a brother to awaken the 
 sleeper, while the most telling passages in his 
 carefully prepared sermon went for naught. He 
 had thought to make some sort of a protest, but 
 finally decided that this must be one of his 
 crosses and he ought to bear it with patience. 
 
 On going home, Bosh would mildly reprove 
 his wife for her "neglect of Christian duty," 
 emphasizing it with a sanctimonious sigh, to 
 which she would reply with a sriort of indigna- 
 tion: "Huh! It must dew yeou a lot o'good, 
 when y'u snore through th' hull sermon!" 
 
 Then he'd turn away saying to himself: "She's 
 a gone case sure." 
 
 No sweeter, pleasanter thoughts come to me 
 than those of the sunny summer days, when sit- 
 ting in a pew near an open window through 
 which nature's sweet incense came wafted from 
 the flowers and from the blossoming clover in a 
 nearby field, I listened reverently to the vener- 
 able pastor's teachings. A holy calm seemed to 
 pervade all nature on those quiet Sabbath days. 
 The only sounds to break the stillness of the out- 
 side world were the hum of insects, the bleating 
 of a sheep on the distant hillside, or the far away 
 tinkle of a cowbell. My love of nature was too 
 great to be long distracted by spiritual matters, 
 and I often found myself dreamily enjoying the 
 beauties without instead of imbibing the instruc- 
 tions of the preacher within. He who loves
 
 130 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 nature, loves God. For one is inconsistent -with- 
 out the other. Man can build wonders of archi- 
 tecture, paint almost speaking scenes, carve mar- 
 ble nearly into life, and yet cannot animate the 
 germ from "which his sustenance must be 
 evolved. The same Power that brought him 
 from the dust puts life into the seed. 
 
 On such a day as I have just described, a short 
 time after the incident at the store in which the 
 stage-driver cut such a comical figure, a larger 
 gathering than usual filled the church to its 
 utmost capacity. The pews were all occupied 
 and also long benches place in the aisles, beside 
 many were standing. It had been announced 
 the Sunday prior that a noted evangelist and 
 singer was to be there, hence the crowd. City 
 churches are nearly empty as a general thing at 
 this season of the year, for obvious reasons. 
 Those who can afford to are away in the country, 
 and those who are obliged to toil for six days in 
 places more or less hot and unpleasant, are glad 
 of the opportunity brought by the seventh to 
 get awaj r from the heat and bad smells for a few 
 hours to the invigorating breezes of the seashore, 
 or to the pure air of the suburbs. The country 
 dweller is always with nature, so on Sunday he 
 seeks not only spiritual comfort at the church, 
 but also the social enjoyment found in meeting 
 his neighbors and friends. I hope my wander- 
 ings may be excused, for one thought brings on 
 another and if a man has an "idee, " to express 
 it is only human nature. The stranger in the 
 pulpit possessed a full, round, eloquent voice, 
 which, with his forceful sincerity, held the as-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 131 
 
 semblage, as it were, under a spell of eager at- 
 tention. He had reached a point at which he 
 was about to render one of his most effective 
 sacred selections, and all were on tiptoe of ex- 
 pectation to hear his voice in song. There was a 
 perfect hush. Not a foot moved nor a garment 
 rustled. As the psalmster opened his mouth to 
 utter the first notes a dog began barking in the 
 rear of the church, and apparently right at the 
 foundation-wall. The singer waited for the 
 barking to cease; but instead, it grew sharper 
 and more angry in tone. A minute passed, and 
 everyone was impatiently wishing all sorts of 
 things to happen to that dog, when, with a loud 
 startling report, a pistol shot rang out directly 
 underneath the pulpit. This was followed by 
 another, and still another. The barking ended 
 in a yelp and a whine of pain. A man's voice 
 was heard crying at its highest pitch, "Murder! 
 murder! I'm killed! I'm killed!" and then 
 came a sound as of somebody tearing away the 
 stones. To say that pandemonium reigned 
 supreme in that crowded church would be put- 
 ting it mildly. Men shouted, women screamed, 
 and children cried. All tried to get out at once, 
 and, as a consequence, fell and climbed over each 
 other in a confused mass. Some of the women 
 and children were hurt, and some fainted. 
 Those near the windows tumbled through them 
 to the ground, and many after gaining an egress 
 ran for home in terror, never stopping until safe 
 behind their own doors. Walter Hart, Mr. 
 Young, Pete Smith, and a number of others, got 
 to the rear of the church as quickly as possible
 
 132 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 to make an investigation. "Walter was there 
 first, and in time to see two men running across 
 the fields in different directions. One of them 
 was Zeb White, a village lounger, and the other 
 Walter believed to be the man that had com- 
 mitted the crime which had so shocked and hor- 
 rified this peaceful community! It is not easy 
 to recognize a person running at a distance, 
 especially if you have seen him but once before, 
 yet Walter felt sure that this was Short's 
 "trampish-lookin' feller," and the man he had 
 met himself. Making known his convictions, 
 Walter started in pursuit of the fugitive, while a 
 goodly number hastened away for weapons with 
 which to capture the criminal. The danger of 
 pursuing an armed desperado alone and weapon- 
 less did not occur to Walter. His only thought 
 was, "Here is a chance to help Will and I must 
 not let it slip. " With the speed of a deer he 
 ran, vaulting fences and clearing ditches, but 
 before reaching the belt of low trees and bushes 
 that bordered the stream he stopped, realizing 
 how foolhardy it would be to go further. 
 Nothing could be gained, and he might be shot 
 through his own impetuous folly. Hot, angry, 
 and disappointed Walter leaned against a fence 
 to await reinforcements. His object had been to 
 keep the man in sight, or at least to ascertain 
 whether he went up the stream or down it. 
 Now, there was little use of trying to find him, 
 for the pebbly bottom would leave no tracks in 
 the water, and while the searchers were going 
 one way he could be fast escaping the other, in 
 fact, would be safe before help arrived. In a
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 133 
 
 few minutes the crowd hove in sight, and in 
 spite of his vexation at thought of how easily the 
 rascal had escaped, Walter laughed heartily at 
 their ludicrous appearance. Mr. Young was in 
 the lead with the Colt's revolver that had caused 
 his clerk such secure and profound slumber in 
 one hand, and an old rusty relic of a "hoss- 
 pistol" in the other. Pete Smith had a double- 
 barreled shotgun, one of the barrels of which 
 was useless, it having been ruined by injudicious 
 loading and "Fourth o' July" enthusiasm. 
 Bosh Warton, too, had managed to reach the 
 van, and his old flint-lock musket looked murder- 
 ous indeed. This antiquated arm was highly 
 prized by its owner as an heirloom. According 
 to Bosh, many a redskin had "bit the dust" at 
 sound of it in the hands of his paternal great 
 grandfather. Now, its discharge was a thunder- 
 clap and its recoil an earthquake. 
 
 "Y'u ain't quite sure of it's goin' off," said 
 Bosh, "but fer killin', it's th' best gun in th' 
 hull caounty. " 
 
 "Ya-as, I s'pose so," remarked Pete Smith, 
 "sorter kills at both ends." 
 
 Bosh afterward had occasion to believe this 
 but that comes later. 
 
 John Short had brought a heavy sledge-ham- 
 mer from the blacksmith shop, some had pitch- 
 forks, there were two or three crowbars, and one 
 old chap came swinging a big two-inch carpen- 
 ter's chisel. Forming in line of battle, this in- 
 vincible host charged on the ambush of the 
 enemy with a valorous shout. For fully an hour 
 they "bushwhacked" up and down both sides of
 
 134 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 the stream, accomplishing nothing. Then in 
 knots aud groups "all hands" returned to the 
 church, while every tongue was busy. There 
 had been no dearth of subjects for conversation 
 in a long time. Such strange happenings in a 
 quiet place are calculated to take precedence to 
 religion, politics, the crops, and the weather 
 when two or more men meet. Zeb White, the 
 fellow Walter had seen running for his life after 
 shouting that he was killed, was a shiftless lout 
 who never worked if by any excuse he could 
 avoid it. His chief occupation was "digging 
 out" woodchucks. This he did not consider 
 work, probably because it was nothing useful. 
 He would dig and sweat, while his faithful dog 
 stood ready by, eager to catch the burrower when 
 it was unearthed. But if one of the farmers 
 needed a man in planting time, haying or har- 
 vesting, Zeb was sure to have rheumatism, a 
 lame back, or some ailment which rendered him 
 unable to lend a hand. His wife did such work 
 as she could get in the village, took care of the 
 little garden, the pig and the chickens, and thus 
 "kept th' haouse a goin'." Zeb, in the mean- 
 time, loafed about with his dog as a constant 
 companion. A short time after Will Benson's 
 arrest this dog was so badly bitten by a sharp- 
 toothed groundhog that he had to be killed. 
 This was a terrible blow for Zeb. For several 
 days he was disconsolate, until happening to 
 think of Shep, Mr. Wilbur's dog, he decided to 
 try him. Acting on the idea at once, he easily 
 enticed Shep to follow him, and from that day 
 the hitherto useful canine was good for nothing
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 135 
 
 to his owner. When wanted to churn or bring 
 the cows he was not to be found, and after a 
 little never came home at all unless Mr. Wilbur 
 went for him, which grew very tiresome. 
 
 Mr. Wilbur accused Zeb of trying to keep 
 him, but the latter protested that he could not 
 drive the dog away. Whipping and chaining 
 did no good, and Mr. Wilbur finally gave up in 
 disgust. Zeb patted the dog on the head, and 
 both were happy. 
 
 On this Sunday morning Zeb sat on the fence 
 behind the church, as he often did, listening to 
 the services which could be plainly heard 
 through the open windows. The fence, capped 
 by flat boards, ended at the horse shed where it 
 made a convenient seat with a rest for the back. 
 Shep was lying on the ground nearby, appar- 
 ently asleep. Of a sudden he sprang up, and 
 running to the rear foundation wall of the 
 church, began to sniff and growl, tearing at the 
 stones, some of which were loose, with his paws. 
 Turning to look at his master, he barked vocifer- 
 ously for the stones to be removed. 
 
 "Doggone that good fer nothin' dog, " said 
 Zeb angrily, "I'd like t' hear that feller sing. 
 Come here, yeou Shep, an' lay down!" But 
 Shep, true to his instinct, stuck to the scent. 
 Sliding lazily down from his perch, Zeb went to 
 the dog's assistance, grumbling: "I s'pose it's 
 th' dominie's old tomcat." In afterward giving 
 an account of what followed, Zeb said: "I pulled 
 a couple o' th' stun away, an' Shep jumped in, 
 barkin' like thunder. He'd no inore'n got 
 through th' bole, when some kind of a gun,
 
 136 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 shot off thet roared like a cannon. Shep yelped 
 an' fell over. I wus tew skeert t' move, a' th' 
 next secunt th' gun roared agin', an' I thought 
 I wus killed fer sure. Th' bullet jest scraped th' 
 skin on my left side, but I thought b'gosh I wus 
 shot through th' heart. Th' feller shot agin, 
 but it never teched me. Didn't I leg it though? 
 By gum! I'm so broke up that I shan't be able 
 t' dew any work fer a week!" 
 
 The body of poor Shep was found lying within 
 the wall, where, through misguided conduct, he 
 had come to an untimely death. All ye self- 
 respecting men and dogs hereby take warning! 
 Adhere not to the company of the idle, for will- 
 ful idleness is an abomination. Verily it doth 
 corrupt, and at last bringeth sorrow to the heart. 
 A better hiding-place could not have been found, 
 for who would have thought that a criminal was 
 concealed beneath the house of God? A base- 
 ment Sunday-school room occupied more than 
 half the space, but there was ample left for the 
 purpose to which it had been put. The floor of 
 the church over the spot where the man had 
 been, was well up from the ground, and he had 
 made the place quite habitable. Enough air cir- 
 culated through to keep it dry and cool. All 
 that could be found there were some blankets 
 and old clothing, which had evidently done serv- 
 ice as a couch or bed. If this man were the 
 thief, what had he done with his plunder? The 
 place appeared as though it had been used for 
 some length of time; but why were there no 
 signs of eating and drinking? Could he have 
 had anything to do with the murder of Henry
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 137 
 
 Mason? If he were captured, would Will Ben- 
 son's case be materially assisted? These ques- 
 tions puzzled our friends, and various opinions 
 were expressed, to the satisfaction of none. 
 
 The detective mentioned before was known as 
 such by nobody except Walter Hart and his 
 father. He was supposed to be a "hand" on 
 their farm. He remarked to Walter as they 
 walked home that day : "There's no use looking 
 for that man now. He'd be clear of the country 
 before anything more could be done. And, any- 
 how, if he were arrested, it wouldn't help Will, 
 for nothing in connection with the case could be 
 proven against him. He's no doubt a vagrant 
 and a thief; but without evidence of some sort 
 he couldn't be held for the murder. I am only 
 wasting time here, and I think I'll quit." 
 
 True enough. He was wasting time. As a 
 sleuth he had missed his calling, and Lawyer 
 Spencer must have been poorly informed as to 
 his ability. 
 
 You ask: "Where were the representatives of 
 'the majesty and dignity of the law,' while all 
 this disturbance was going on?" The consta- 
 ble had gone on Saturday night, with four or 
 five congenial spirits all possessed of more or 
 less spirits not furnished by nature to a lake a 
 few miles east of the village on a fishing excur- 
 sion to last over Sunday. His wife was a pious 
 woman, and she had scored him severely for thus 
 desecrating the Sabbath, but her protests and 
 scoldings were always of no avail. Squire Blow- 
 hard sat in his accustomed pew that morning, 
 with hands serenely folded on the apex of his
 
 138 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 corporosity, and with an expression of counte- 
 nance full of heavenly peace. The look became 
 more intensified as he dropped a crisp bill into 
 the contribution basket which was being passed 
 through the crowd with much difficulty and great 
 profit. This action on the part of the squire was 
 a great surprise to the minister. "Whenever the 
 need of money for church work was mentioned to 
 the squire he would heave a sigh and complain 
 of hard times. His seldom failing presence at 
 Sunday morning service made little difference 
 to the collections. Though fond of popularity, 
 the close-fisted squire wanted to buy it as cheaply 
 as possible, yet, this being an especial occasion, 
 he thought the opportunity to display generosity 
 too good to be lost. What the dominie thought 
 was five dollars afterward proved to be only two. 
 But still, there was good reason for thankfulness 
 that such a donation had come from an unex- 
 pected quarter. 
 
 When the shooting occurred the squire was 
 if possible more panic-stricken than any one 
 else. He pushed, elbowed, and crowded his way 
 along with brutish disregard of whom he might 
 injure, and with no thought except for the safety 
 of his own piggish carcass. But Nemesis was 
 close at his heels! One of Will Benson's 
 friends, a happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care young 
 fellow named George Wilson, who was no re- 
 specter of persons in general, and the squire in 
 particular, saw the latter's unmanly behavior. 
 With some difficulty George worked through the 
 crowd until he reached a position directly be- 
 hind the squire. The latter had donned his
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 139 
 
 "beaver," and this George drove down over his 
 eyes with a quick blow on top of it. Then, after 
 thumping; him in the back, punching his ribs, 
 tripping him up, and walking over him, George 
 escaped unnoticed in the rabble, while the squire 
 howled lustily. Thus, you see, justice was done, 
 a justice was "done, " and the "dignity of the 
 law" completely "squelched."
 
 140 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SOME EMOTION A LITTLE WRANGLING A BEAR HUNT. 
 
 ABOUT six o'clock in the evening on the day 
 following the excitement at the church, Walter 
 Hart was neariug the store when he saw Clara 
 Mason coming out of it. Quickening his pace 
 he soon overtook her as she walked leisurely up 
 the street. "Good-evening, Clara," said he, 
 reddening at her start of half surprise. Being 
 preoccupied in thought she had not heard his 
 approach. 
 
 "Why, how do you do, Walter?" she ex- 
 claimed, "I am glad to see you." 
 
 In country places where all are acquaintances 
 formality is thrown to the winds. The titles of 
 Mr., Miss., and Mrs., are seldom used, except in 
 addressing elderly people. 
 
 There was something Walter wished to say to 
 Clara, and he scarcely knew how to begin. He 
 had studied his lesson well; but now at the 
 supreme moment his mind was a blank. Clara 
 knew instinctively of what he intended to speak 
 Will having told her of Walter's visits and, 
 noticing his uneasiness and hesitation, she gave 
 him an opportunity, as women often do, by 
 saying : 
 
 "Will told me you had been to see him and 
 were trying to help him. I am very glad you
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 141 
 
 and he are friends." This broke the ice and put 
 him a little more at ease. 
 
 "I hardly expected such a reception after 
 treating you so shabbily," said Walter. "I have 
 wanted to apologize for a long time, but haven't 
 had the courage to face you." Having started, 
 he determined to finish what he had to say as 
 quickly as possible and leave her presence, for 
 each second as he walked beside her he grew 
 more madly in love with this beautiful girl. He, 
 too, had loved Clara from childhood with a 
 fierce, wild passion, and, being accustomed to 
 having his own way in nearly everything else, he 
 thought he must in this, even up to the time he 
 had made the attempt to win her and failed. 
 Before that she had coquettishly smiled on him, 
 and snubbed him, alternately raising his hopes 
 and dashing them to the ground. Now the fact 
 of knowing that hope was dead seemed to make 
 his passion the harder to control. 
 
 "I hope you will pardon my conduct last 
 winter," he went on, with forced calmness, "I 
 know that I was the cause of all the unpleasant 
 gossip that followed the donation party, and I 
 am sorry, indeed." 
 
 "That is long past, Walter," said Clara, "and 
 I have had so much trouble since that I had 
 almost forgotten it. I forgive you freely, I am 
 sure, and I blame the storm more than I do you. 
 Some of the people here are always looking for 
 something to talk about, and I have learned not 
 to mind their chatter." She could not help 
 noticing the difference in Walter. He had lost
 
 142 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 his former air of self-assertion, and his \vhole 
 manner seemed changed. 
 
 "Do you think you can do anything for Will?" 
 asked Clara. Walter's face paled at this ques- 
 tion, and a shadow of pain flitted across it that 
 was plain to her. 
 
 "lam not sure that I can, but I shall try," 
 answered he, in a voice slightly trembling, yet 
 apparently sincere. They had reached the gate 
 by this time, and as Walter leaned against a 
 post he looked to use a paradox a picture of 
 helpless strength, so great was his agitation. 
 Clara was perfectly well aware of the cause of it, 
 and though true to Will, she pitied Walter. Ex- 
 tending her hand, she said in tones that, too, 
 were not without a tremor: 
 
 "I am proud to have you for a friend, but be- 
 yond that my feelings cannot be changed. I 
 speak thus frankly because I understand your 
 emotion. Think of me only in friendship, and I 
 earnestly hope you may find one to make you 
 happy whose worth will be equal to your own." 
 This he afterward did but that comes later. 
 He held her hand an instant, and then turning 
 with tear-filled eyes, strode down the street, too 
 much overcome to speak. "Poor Walter!" ex- 
 claimed Clara, as she watched his excited steps. 
 "He's not the same fellow. If I had never 
 known Will" here she stopped and bit her lip. 
 Pity they say is akin to love. And when a beau- 
 tiful girl is loved by a handsome youth, while 
 she loves another, there is a spark of something 
 more than mere pity for the unfortunate suitor 
 within her breast. What is it? An old bache-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 143 
 
 lor, speaking from experience once said: "It's 
 only admiration for his good taste." After a 
 man has made such an exhibition of bis feelings, 
 when they have not been reciprocated, he usually 
 calls himself a fool. The woman thinks differ- 
 ently. To her last day there is a tender spot in 
 her heart for him, and in after years she will 
 extol his good qualities, to the supreme disgust 
 of her husband. "Vanity of vanities: all is 
 vanity!" "Selah." 
 
 Walter had endeavored to keep his mind occu- 
 pied to the exclusion of his disappointment and 
 had succeeded fairly well. But now the battle 
 must be fought all over again, and there was no 
 wonder. As she appeared that evening in a 
 dress of fine white lawn, plainly made though 
 perfect fitting, belted at the waist and open at 
 the throat, where it was edged with lace against 
 the soft warm skin, with hair closelj- coiled at 
 the back of her shapely uncovered head, with 
 those .dark lustrous eyes and that face of (then) 
 pale classic beauty the sight of her would have 
 stirred to life the heart of an anchorite. 
 
 The distance back to the store was so short 
 that, at the pace Walter was going, he was unable 
 to regain complete mastery of himself before 
 reaching it, and as he went in the inevitable 
 idlers gave him a searching look and winked 
 knowingly at each other. 
 
 Bosh Warton, who was munching a "red 
 herrin' " he had surreptitously taken from a box 
 near the door, spoke up after Walter was out of 
 hearing: "I tell yeou," in a forcible stage whis-
 
 144 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 per, "th's sumthin' atween Walt an' that Mason 
 gal, more'n folks knows uv!" 
 
 "I don't b'lieve it," said John Short. "I did 
 think last winter th' wus sumthin' wrong, but I 
 know better now. Walt's a mighty nice feller, 
 an' th' ain't a better ner puttier gal in th' hull 
 caounty than Clara." 
 
 "I expect ef yeou wus a young feller," said 
 Bosh sarcastically, "yeou'd be kinder shinin' 
 'raound arfter her yerself. " 
 
 "Sartin!" answered Short. "An' I tell y'u 
 what, I wus a great feller fer th' gals, too. 
 W'y, I uster go aout ridin' with a different one 
 'most ev'ry Sunday. Corn huskin's an' apple 
 bees, wus jest my pie. W'y tarnation take it, I 
 c'udn't git away from 'em! All th' other fellers 
 hed t' take a back seat w'en I come 'raound." 
 
 The listeners were in high glee, for they knew 
 there was sure to be fun whenever these two old 
 chaps were together. They would get angry 
 and apparently ready to fly at each other's 
 throats, but the next time they met, their greet- 
 ings would be as cordial as though nothing had 
 happened to ruffle their friendship. 
 
 "Ain't yeou kinder blowin'?" asked Bosh, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Naw,I ain't blowin' !" answered Short testily. 
 "I'm tellin' th' truth. Wen I worked over on 
 th' Larrabee place th' wus a gal workin' in th' 
 haouse named Sally Sweetzer, an' she wus es 
 han'sum es a picter. She thought th' wus 
 nobody like me an" 
 
 "Hoi' on thar, Short," interrupted Bosh, 
 "yeou may make these other fellers b'lieve them
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 145 
 
 lies, but I know all about it. Ol' man Larrabee 
 bed t'kick yeou off'n th' place 'cause Sally com- 
 plained o' yeour botherin' her so. An' she tol* 
 rue es haow she thought yeou wus th' humbliest 
 cuss she ever seen." Bosh was seldom very 
 witty, so the laugh raised at this "sally" tickled 
 him immensely. But he who is slow of risibil- 
 ity enjoys it most. The irascible stage-driver 
 was now boiling over with wrath. Springing up 
 from the platform, he went over to Bosh, and 
 shaking his fist in the latter's face, shouted in a 
 tone intended to terrorize his opponent: "Fer 
 tew cents I'd wallop yeour ol' hide till y'u cudn't 
 lay daown fer a week! Yer th' laziest, lyinest, 
 good-fer-nothin'est ol' humbug in th' hull place! 
 An' ef et hadn't b'en fer Lize Ann Whitbeck thet 
 yeou married, y 'u 'd a starved t' death long ago ! ' ' 
 
 Bosh, who had risen when Short came at him, 
 began backing away, until, before he was aware 
 of it, he had reached the edge of the platform, 
 and with a loud cry fell into the pool. As he 
 was crawling out, Pete Smith drove up and with 
 one of his "dry smiles," remarked to Short: 
 
 "Wa-al, I s'pose yeou tew boys'll be good 
 friends naow, y'u'veboth b'en baptized." 
 
 Mr. Young, Walter, and the clerk, hearing the 
 loud laughter, came out, and taking in the situ- 
 ation at a glance, joined in it heartily them- 
 selves. Bosh was "madder" than he had ever 
 been before. "I'll hev' th' law on yeou, John 
 Short! Gol hanged efldon't!" roared he, pulling 
 off his boots and pouring out the water. 
 
 "What fer?" asked Short, with a sneer, 
 kuockin' me off en th' platform."
 
 146 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "I didn't knock yeou offen th' platform! 
 Yeou fell off yerself. An' et sarves yeou right fer 
 lyin' so." 
 
 "I say yeou did!" exclaimed Bosh, then turn- 
 ing to leave, "I'm goin' t' see th' squire t'onct 
 an' transfer a charge agin' yeou fer salt an' 
 batter! See ef I don't!" 
 
 "Go an' be darned t' y'u! I don't ker; I kin 
 prove I never teched y'u." 
 
 Short's defiant retort was lost to Bosh, for the 
 latter was now on his way home grinding his 
 teeth in harmless rage. 
 
 "Say, boys what d'y'u say tew a b'ar hunt?" 
 asked Smith, on rejoining the group, after tying 
 his team under the shed behind the store. 
 
 "B'ar hunt?" asked Short, in turn, looking 
 at Smith in astonishment, "w'y th' haint b'en 
 no b'ars raound here in nigh ontew twenty 
 years!" 
 
 "Th' is naow though," said Smith quietly. 
 
 "What makes y'u think so?" asked Short, 
 with an incredulous sraile. 
 
 " 'Cause I seen it, y'u old fool! I s'pose y'n 
 think I ort t' brought it along t' prove I want 
 lyin'?" 
 
 "Th's plenty o' fools thet haint very old yit, 
 an' never will be, fer th' killer '11 git 'em tew 
 soon. I guess yeou must a had a leetle tew 
 much o' that hard cider o' yourn, w'en y'u 
 thought y'u seen a b'ar." Short arose and 
 marched gleefully away while the laughter yet 
 prevented Smith from making a reply. 
 
 "Ya-as," said Smith, after the merriment had 
 subsided, "jest afore dusk last night, a b'ar kim
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 147 
 
 aout o' th' woods int' my sheep-lot up on tb' 
 sidehill, an' killed one o'my best yews. He was 
 a big black feller, an' I c'u'd see him plain es 
 day. I went arfter m' gun, but he wus gone afore 
 I got back." 
 
 After a great deal of discussion, it was finally 
 decided that they would meet at the store the 
 following evening at six o'clock, and start from 
 there. It would not do to allow a prowling bear 
 to kill valuable sheep with impunity. Some did 
 not believe that Smith had seen a bear, but still 
 it was possible. One might have strayed from 
 its haunts in the Catskills, and if such were the 
 case it must be shot. Walter Hart was one of 
 the most incredulous, yet knowing there would 
 be fun, bear or no bear, which would help to 
 distract his mind from his unrequited passion, 
 he decided to join the party. The bear story 
 had been thoroughly noised about, and there 
 were at least twenty-five men and boys accom- 
 panied by dogs of various breeds and no breeds 
 at all, at the store at the appointed time. 
 Everybody was talking, the dogs were barking 
 and fighting, and everyone seemed to think that 
 the way to hunt bear was to make as much noise 
 as possible. 
 
 This was the state of affairs when Walter 
 arrived, and he saw that some arrangements 
 must be made before starting, if they 
 would stand a ghost of a show of seeing the 
 shadow of the bear. Mounting a barrel that 
 stood on the platform, he shouted : 
 
 "Hear ye! Hear ye! Mighty hunters of the 
 wild denizens of the forest!" At the sound of
 
 148 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 his voice all gathered around to learn what he 
 might have to say, -when he began : 
 
 "Before we start on this expedition we must 
 form some plans of quiet concerted action. The 
 remains of the deceased Southdown have been 
 left where that lamented member of the flock was 
 killed by the ruthless marauder, bruin, and my 
 proposition is this: The carcass is at the junc- 
 ture of the two stone walls which converge up 
 the hillside, and by arranging ourselves behind 
 these we can concentrate our fire on the enemy, 
 just as he comes from the woods. All of these 
 dogs must be dispensed with and disposed of 
 in some manner, for they would be not only use- 
 less, but extremely detrimental to our sucess. " 
 
 "Hurrah for Captain Hart!" cried some one, 
 and three cheers were given with a will. "He's 
 got tew much book-larnin' fer a farmer. Hurrah 
 fer Hart th' pettifogger!" Walter blushed 
 modestly, and laughed with the rest. After 
 some demurring the dogs were shut up in the 
 blacksmith shop across from the store, the smith 
 being one of the prospective hunters, and after 
 the party had gone Mr. Young was treated to a 
 most agonizing chorus of howls and barks, run- 
 ning through several gamuts of sharps and flats, 
 basses and trebles, by the disappointed canines. 
 Everj'body had a gun of some sort, and Bosh 
 Warton, of course, was in the crowd, armed with 
 his ancient flint-lock. All of the guns had been 
 loaded heavily, in fact, loaded for "b'ar. " 
 When they reached Pete Smith's house he joined 
 them, and in five minutes more they were at the 
 foot of the hill.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 149 
 
 The "sheep-lot" was almost in the form of a 
 triangle. At the woods on top of the hill a 
 short strip of wall cut off the point of what 
 would have been a triangle had the side walls 
 converged a little further. The peculiar shape 
 of this field was due to the presence of some 
 large rocks and the general conformation of the 
 ground. Walter divided the party about 
 equally, and instructed them to follow the walls 
 on the outside until he shouted "Halt!" Then 
 to drop down and train their weapons on the 
 body of the sheep, and not to fire -until he gave 
 the word. When they had gone the proper dis- 
 tance and were settling down, an old veteran of 
 the late war remarked : "This makes me think o' 
 war-times." 
 
 " 'Cause yeou allus got b'hind a stun-wall, I 
 s'pose, " said Pete Smith. 
 
 "No, sir," cried the "vet," indignantly, "I 
 was in seventeea pitched battles an " 
 
 "Stop that loud talking," said Walter. After 
 this all lay quietly waiting as most of them 
 thought for nothing. The sun had set, and 
 twilight was slowly deepening into darkness, 
 when a rustling was heard in the bushes at the 
 edge of the wood. All got in readiness for 
 action. A half-minute passed, while each, with 
 nerves strained and heart beating, kept his eyes 
 glued to the spot where the sheep lay. Sud- 
 denly a large dark animal bounded over the wall 
 with surprising agility for a bear! It stopped 
 at the carcass, and, on the instant, the command 
 rang out: "Fire!" The hillside was illumi- 
 nated by the flames which belched forth from
 
 150 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 those two rows of guns, and there was such a 
 roar as had never been heard in that valley 
 before ! It reverberated from the opposite side, 
 and people in the village looked at each other 
 aghast! Were giants blasting the hills apart, 
 or was this the crack of doom? After number- 
 less prophecies and disappointments ( ?), had the 
 trump of Gabriel sounded at last? 
 
 F-very gun had "kicked," and there were lame 
 shoulders and sore cheek-bones galore. 
 
 Ye Gods of War! What havoc that volley 
 would have created in the ranks of an advancing 
 foe! Buckshot, bullets, slugs, et cetera. They 
 saw their victim lying motionless, and knowing 
 he must have been killed, made no examination, 
 being more intent on nursing their own aches. 
 Some one was heard groaning as though in 
 severe pain. It was poor old Bosh. He lay at 
 full length on the ground apparently helpless. 
 There was a cut on his head from which the 
 blood was running down the back of his neck. 
 The recoil of his gun had been so great as to 
 hurl him backward quite a distance down the 
 hill, where his almost bare cranium had come 
 in contact with a sharp stone. 
 
 "Boys," said he faintly, "I guess my last 
 hour hes come. Take me home so'st I kin see 
 Liza Ann agin afore I die." 
 
 "I knew that gun'd be the death o' yeou yit," 
 said Smith, with heartless indifference, "I told 
 yeou it'd kill at both ends." Nudging Walter 
 in the ribs, he repeated Bosh's former boast: 
 " 'Fer killin', that's th' best gun in the hull 
 caounty. ' "
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 151 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, taking the cue, "he does 
 look bad, don't he?" 
 
 "Hurry up, boys," said Smith again, "he's 
 sinkin' fast." 
 
 If Bosh had not been sure of dying before, he 
 felt so now after hearing these doleful remarks, 
 and \vas correspondingly frightened. Two of 
 them picked him up, one by the feet and the 
 other with hands under his arms. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Hold on," he cried, "I guess my 
 shoulder's broke." They put him down again, 
 and rigging a litter of sticks and brush, marched 
 away with the wounded, leaving the dead on the 
 field. The others followed laughingly behind, 
 for they knew he was more "skeert" than hurt. 
 
 As the cavalcade tramped through the village 
 street a sensation was created indeed. The 
 moon had risen round and full, and people who 
 had been frightened out of their houses by the 
 thunderous report could plainly see that some- 
 thing serious had happened. By the time they 
 arrived at Bosh's domicile, the company had 
 grown to a crowd. " 'Liza Ann" came to the 
 door, white and frightened, having seen them 
 through the window. 
 
 "What on airth lies that man gone an' done 
 naow?" asked she, looking at Bosh lying so pale 
 and deathlike on the improvised stretcher. 
 "Hev you killed yerself ?" she asked again. 
 
 "I'm 'most gone," said Bosh, in a weak voice, 
 "but thank th' Lord I never staid hum from 
 church." He closed his eyes with a sigh, as 
 though awaiting the summons in peace. Some 
 one had gone for the doctor, and that eminent
 
 152 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 manipulator of saw and scalpel appeared on the 
 scene in time to hear Bosh's parting reflection on 
 his wife's dereliction of duty. 
 
 "Very bad! Very bad!" said he, winking at 
 Smith. 
 
 "Lucky I brought my instruments. I shall 
 have to set a plate in there. If he'd had any 
 brains they'd have all run out." 
 
 "Hold on, doc," cried Bosh, on his feet in an 
 instant, "I'm feelin' better a'ready." 
 
 The roar of laughter that followed this sudden 
 resurrection shook the little house from sill to 
 rafter. Those who claimed to know said that 
 the lecture Bosh received that night from 'Liza 
 Ann was a never-to-be-forgotten occurrence in his 
 career. 
 
 The next morning Pete Smith went up to the 
 "sheep-lot" and found there a big Newfound- 
 land dog minus a tail!
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SQUIRE BLOWHAED HAS A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE. 
 
 THE sport attending the bear hunt was highly 
 beneficial to Walter. The fun and excitement 
 kept his willful thoughts from brooding upon 
 what his common sense told him was reasonable 
 and only to be expected. Clara preferred Will, 
 and there was nothing strange about it. So why 
 should he go pining around for her? This was 
 logic, but logic and lovesickness are always at 
 odds. Logic may win a nominal Victory, but 
 divergence of mind wins the real one. As he 
 left the crowd that night, the ludicrousness of 
 the whole affair appealed more strongly to his 
 sense of humor as he thought over the incidents 
 of the evening, and he laughed softly at their 
 recurrence while walking slowly homeward. 
 
 The stream running through this valley 
 hugged the foot of the hill on the southern side, 
 until well along toward the lower end, when it 
 struck boldly out into the bright green meadows 
 of its own making. Then, as though losing 
 courage, it bended and gradually, reluctantly, 
 sought the hill again, filled a dam, turned a 
 wheel, and lost itself in a rocky glen, searching 
 for lower levels. Just below the bend a road 
 crossed the stream, and here was a stanch bridge
 
 154 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 of heavy timbers and thick planks. It needed to 
 be stanch to hold against the fierce spring 
 floods that broke through the bend above, 
 covered the roadway and meadows with rushing 
 water, and sometimes carried away the planking. 
 On a hot summer's day, when a little sunburned, 
 barefooted lad, I would often lean over the rail- 
 ing, watching the little fishes and the slow, 
 silent slipping of the inviting coolness below, 
 until almost overcome by an intense impulse to 
 plunge in. Once I leaned too far and this thing 
 happened. But, fortunately, help was near, and 
 the world of letters was saved an irreparable 
 loss. I must stop this drifting, or, like Noah's 
 Ark, I may land on a mountain top. 
 
 Walter had reached the bridge, when happen- 
 ing to turn he saw five young men coming 
 behind. One of them made a motion with his 
 hand and shouted: "Say, Walt! Hold on." 
 The speaker was George Wilson, whom the 
 reader will remember as having given Squire 
 Blowhard such a righteous chastisement in the 
 church on the previous Sunday. "There's some- 
 thing we want to ask you," said George, after 
 they had all disposed themselves about Walter, 
 who was standing at ease against the railing. 
 
 "Well, go ahead," returned Walter, "I'm lis- 
 tening. " 
 
 "I'll tell you what we've made up our minds 
 to do. Will Benson's lying in jail accused of a 
 crime that nobodj r believes he committed, and 
 we're a-going to get him out. We propose 
 going on horseback to the jail and making the 
 jailer give him up, and we want you to lead us."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 155 
 
 Walter straightened up and stared at George 
 in amazement, almost doubting his sanity. 
 
 "What!" cried he, "raid the jail; interfere 
 with the law? They do such things in the South 
 and West, but nobody ever heard of its being 
 done here! We'd surelj" get into trouble." 
 
 "The law be blamed!" answered George. 
 "We'll wear masks and no one will know us. 
 'Most everybody thinks that the man who hid 
 under the church is the guilty party, and I say 
 it's a shame for an innocent man to be locked up 
 and maybe imprisoned for life!" 
 
 "I think it would be a dangerous piece of 
 business," said Walter musingly. Now that 
 these firm friends of Will's had asked his assist- 
 ance, he was tempted to yield. He knew it 
 would be wrong in the eyes of the law, and there 
 was the risk of discovery ; but if he refused they 
 would call him a coward. And, too, it might 
 appear that he did not want to help Will. Love 
 of adventure was an influential component of his 
 nature, and this, with that semicircle of expect- 
 ant faces, overcame his scruples. "I'll go," 
 said he. 
 
 "Bully for j r ou!" exclaimed all in chorus. 
 
 "Now that you have promised to go," Qeorge 
 resumed, "there's something more we intend to 
 do. We're going to give the squire a stirring 
 up, too. He thinks he's done a mighty fine job 
 by jugging Will, and we're going to try and 
 convince him of his mistake." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" asked Walter, 
 more astonished than before, and almost regret- 
 ting his promise. "Well, you see," answered
 
 156 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 George, "he \vent to Albany yesterday, and is 
 comiv^ back to-morrow night. This he told 
 father. Father met him going down on his old 
 nag. I suppose he left it in the hotel stable and 
 
 will ride it up. The train gets in 3VI about 
 
 half-past ten, and we'll have a chance to give 
 him a very pleasant surprise party. When we're 
 clone with him we'll go on to the jail and liber- 
 ate Will." A lot of persuasion was necessary to 
 get Walter's consent to the full programme, but 
 it was at last accomplished. After making ar- 
 rangements as to the meeting-place, etc., and 
 pledging each other to the most profound 
 secrecy, these half-dozen conspirators parted for 
 the night. What would their staid, pious 
 Methodist fathers have thought had they known 
 of the young rogues' plans? 
 
 For the sake of description, imagine that I am 
 standing on the dugway, where we have both 
 been before. It is drawing toward the hour of 
 midnight. The brilliant summer moon is riding 
 high, in brave defiance of an occasional fleece of 
 cloud that tries in vain to hide its face. Out and 
 a\vaj r , 
 
 O'er field and wood, hollow and stream, the effiulgcnt light 
 
 is spread. 
 And the calmness of peace, the quiet of rest, reigns as o'er 
 
 the dead. 
 
 Above, the uneven seams of slaty rock slowly 
 recede, giving scanty life to now and then a bush 
 or stunted tree, until lost in the blackness of 
 denser growth at the summit of the mountain. 
 To the right and left extends the road ; a path of
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 157 
 
 dust, nearly white. Now the ear becomes sensi- 
 ble to the low murmuring of night insects, and 
 down by the stream a solitary whip-poor-will 
 begins his doleful injunction with a startling 
 accent almost human. There are other sounds. 
 Near the upper end of the dugway, where it 
 widens out a little, is a clump of trees and under- 
 brush, making a dark shadow on the road. 
 Here a restless horse is stamping his foot, and 
 we can hear the rider's impatient "whoa!" 
 From the opj osite direction come faintly up the 
 slow, heavy footfalls of another horse. Now he's 
 crossing the bridge. The sounds are coming 
 quicker and sharper; he's ascending the hill and 
 will soon be in sight. First a man's head ap- 
 pears, and then the steed's, hanging low, with 
 bridle rein swinging loose about the ears. 
 Horse and rider both look half-asleep as they 
 move nearer along the dugway. Ah! It is 
 Squire Blowhard. With hands firmly clasping 
 the pommel of the saddle, and legs standing out 
 at the sides, he rides on, bobbing his head fit to 
 shake it loose. Nothing is heard from the clump 
 of trees, and, all unconscious of danger, the 
 squire bobs away in time with the plunk-plunk- 
 pluuk of his horse's feet. He has reached the 
 shadow, and now from a half-dozen throats in 
 deep-toned chorus comes the thunderous shout: 
 "Halt!" With an involuntary cry of alarm the 
 squire starts up, and the sight that meets his 
 gaze sends a chill to the marrow of his bones! 
 Six masked horsemen are blocking the way, and 
 six big revolvers appear anxious to empty their 
 contents into his devoted hide! Fear has tied
 
 158 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 his tongue. His round face, before so ruddy, 
 now rivals the paleness of the moon that is look- 
 ing on with calm indifference. The horsemen 
 close around him, and one, evidently the leader, 
 in a solemn, impressive voice says: "Squire 
 Blowhard, we are here in the interest of the 
 people of H , to mete out to you the punish- 
 ment you so richly deserve for maladministra- 
 tion of the law. Law is but the expression of 
 the will of the people. Through their suffer- 
 ance, incompetent men are sometimes allowed to 
 assume its 'majesty and dignity/ and when such 
 exceed their authority, or permit criminals to go 
 unapprehended, the people who are absolute 
 seek their own redress. What have you to say ?" 
 The cowardly squire begins to stammer while 
 his teeth chatter and his limbs shake: "I I 
 I " "He trembles in fear of a just retribu- 
 tion," says the stern inquisitor, "and his guilty 
 tongue can frame no excuse." Turning to his 
 grim followers he asks: "What shall be the 
 penalty?" The answer comes from all at once: 
 "To be hung by the thumbs over the cliff." 
 Three of them dismount; one produces a rope 
 and the other two drag the squire screaming and 
 struggling from his horse, and half carry him to 
 the edge of the dugway. They have no inten- 
 tion of carrying out their sentence, but merely 
 wish to see how much he can be frightened. On 
 reaching the precipice they find in their hands 
 a limp, lifeless form! Have they killed him? 
 Now it is their turn to be frightened. All dis- 
 mount and crowd around, and but for those 
 masks a circle of blanched faces could be saen.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 159 
 
 They take him back to a spot of grass just with- 
 out the shadow and lay him down. "We have 
 carried our fun too far," says the leader. "What 
 shall we do now?" 
 
 There is no answer. All seem speechless and 
 helpless. Something must be done, and yet no 
 one seems able to say what. The soft night wind 
 slightly freshens, and the treetops sing a Jow 
 requiem that sends a shiver through every frame! 
 What will be the outcome of this? Before their 
 eyes in fearful fancy passes a vision of six 
 hitherto respectable young men being tried for 
 murder! Their mothers are weeping, and their 
 fathers with sorrowful mien are listening to the 
 austere judge charging the jury. The leader is 
 the first to move. "After all," he thinks, "the 
 squire may not be dead." Bending over, he 
 places his hand inside the vest of the prostrate 
 man. The heart is beating! Color begins to 
 appear in the face and the arms move. 
 
 He gives a glad shout that is echoed "by the 
 others, and the spell is broken. To horse and 
 away ! Down the road in a cloud of dust they 
 vanish from sight, galloping on toward M . 
 
 When the squire has fully recovered conscious- 
 ness he rises on one arm, and looks about in 
 wonderment. How came he here? What has 
 happened? Up and down the moonlit dugway 
 there is nothing is sight that will explain the 
 situation. But what is that a few feet away? 
 Ah! the rope. His mind begins to clear. He 
 remembers. The masked horsemen, the revol- 
 vers, the attempt on his life (as he thinks), all 
 comes back to him with a vividness that renews
 
 160 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 his terror. Getting on his feet, he starts bound- 
 ing off up the road, knowing that his nag if not 
 stolen will be somewhere along in the direction 
 of home. The faster he runs the more lively 
 grows his imagination; until he feels sure that 
 six mad steeds snorting fire are thundering at 
 his heels, and six bloodthirsty bandits are point- 
 ing as many small cannon, with murderous in- 
 tent, straight at his head! 
 
 When almost ready to drop from exhaustion 
 he espies his "mount" quietly cropping herbage 
 by the roadside. This sensible old equine always 
 took everything as a matter of course, and never 
 allowed himself to become agitated. As soon as 
 relieved of his tiresome burden he had gone 
 right on, with never a care for his master's fate. 
 
 Horses are as selfish as their owners. Work- 
 ing his cranky craft alongside a stump, as a 
 sailor would say, the squire, with much straining 
 and heaving, hoisted his bulky cargo aboard. 
 Grasping the reins with his left hand, he beat 
 the side of the poor beast with a stick in his 
 right. The result was a miserable apology for a 
 trot that set the squire to bouncing up and down 
 in a very unpleasant manner. We will leave 
 him to "work his passage," and follow the for- 
 tunes of the adventurous raiders in the next 
 chapter.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE REMAINDER 
 OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 ABOUT a mile below the dugway our bold 
 night riders' who had so completely frightened 
 the squire and themselves, drew up for a consul- 
 tation. The question was: whether to carry out 
 the remainder of their plans or not. Their ardor 
 was somewhat dampened by what had already 
 occurred, and two or three of the more timid 
 suggested that they relinquish the idea of re- 
 leasing Will and go home. "Well," said the 
 leader, Walter Hart, "we'd better not back down 
 now after coming this far; though I think we 
 made a mistake in not waiting for a dark night. 
 Still, I can see no reason why we shouldn't go 
 ahead and help a friend and former schoolmate, 
 for everything is in our favor except the moon- 
 light. Nothing like this has ever been done 
 here before, and we'll have it all our own way. 
 If the jailer is as easily scared as the squire it 
 will be a soft job." 
 
 "Amen!" said George Wilson. 
 
 "If any of you are afraid to go on," resumed 
 Walter, "now is the time to say so." 
 
 An inference of cowardice was too much. The 
 dissenters at once expressed their willingness to
 
 162 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 proceed, and with renewed resolution the party 
 set off again. Their spirits rose as they went 
 along. This was a novel experience for these 
 young fellows, unaccustomed as they were to 
 anything of a very exciting nature, and they 
 were beginning to enjoy it. But it was neces- 
 sary for them to curb their exhilaration to obvi- 
 ate the possibility of being heard by any who 
 might yet be "burning the midnight oil." 
 
 Horseback riding under proper conditions is 
 a fine enjoyment, especially to vigorous young 
 manhood. The nerves tingle, the blood circu- 
 lates rapidly, the senses become acute, and the 
 pleasure is increased by sympathy between rider 
 and steed. 
 
 Before reaching M they turned into a road 
 
 that was more roundabout though safer, and in 
 a short time came in sight of that place. A 
 beautiful scene was spread out before them. 
 The sleeping town, the river, with smoothes and 
 riffles, stretching away down the valley into 
 obscurity, the broad level expanse between the 
 hills and "Vroman's Nose" rising in obstinate 
 abruptness on the further side, all bathed in 
 mellow light and clothed with romance, at once 
 aroused their admiration. But the night was 
 going. There were five miles yet to be tra- 
 versed, and they must hurry on. In passing 
 farmhouses, they rode on the greensward at the 
 roadside to muffle their horses hoof beats. What 
 a boon to them would have been the noiseless 
 "bikes" of the present day! The latter part of 
 the journey was the more difficult. As they 
 drew near the county seat the houses were closer
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 163 
 
 together, and one of the principal streets of the 
 town had to be passed through. Here they used 
 the utmost caution, keeping in the shadow of the 
 big trees that lined either side, and walking 
 their horses in the gutter where the earth was 
 soft and moist from the repeated operations of a 
 sprinkling cart on the previous day. The jail at 
 last was reached, and riding in front of the 
 keeper's apartments, which were in the same 
 building, all dismounted. 
 
 It has just occurred to me that before going 
 any further I should acquaint the reader with 
 the manner in which Will's friends intended to 
 dispose of him after obtaining his freedom. Had 
 their ill-advised though well-meant efforts not 
 miscarried this would be superfluous. 
 
 The following may at first seem to have no 
 relation to my account of strange happenings; 
 but the connection will be seen a little later. 
 
 In the early annals of this locality, it is said 
 that a famous Indian fighter a stalwart Irish- 
 man named Timothy Murphy used so often to 
 outwit his red enemies when hard pressed, that 
 they at last believed him to be under the especial 
 protection of the Great Spirit. The settlers in 
 their attempts to subdue the savage aborigines, 
 received great assistance and wise counsel from 
 this crafty Hibernian. Although there have 
 been many stories told of his heroism and cun- 
 ning, none are pertinent except the "Legend of 
 Vrooman's Nose." 
 
 This mountain, about two miles southwest of 
 
 M , is not extremely difficult of ascent on the 
 
 westerly side ; but toward the valley it presents
 
 164 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 a jaggedly perpendicular face, to a dizzy height 
 above the roadway at its base. 
 
 Now the tale. One day, in his peregrinations 
 about the country, Murphy saw a thin, scarcely 
 perceptible column of smoke arising from a thick 
 growth of trees in a little ravine through which 
 flowed a small stream. His suspicious were at 
 once aroused. Cautiously working nearer from 
 tree to tree, he eventually saw what confirmed 
 his first opinion a band of war-painted savages! 
 It was just at sunset, and they were starting a 
 fire preparatory to camping there for the night. 
 Retracing his steps as carefully as he had come, 
 he reached a hilltop and sat down. How was it 
 possible to bring about the dissolution of those 
 nineteen doughty warriors? "Every mother's 
 son of 'em," says he, "must be wiped out." 
 
 He looked into the blood-red western sky for 
 an inspiration and found it. In a short time 
 he had planned a ruse de geurre, and set off with 
 rapid strides to put it in operation. Light was 
 beginning to dawn the next morning before all 
 the preparations were completed. A consider- 
 able company of men that Murphy had col- 
 lected secreted themselves near the Indians' 
 retreat. 
 
 Then, as though by accident, the fearless 
 Timothy stalked into the camp of the enem3 r . 
 Taken by surprise they at first stared, while 
 Tim, appearing to see his mistake, leaped away 
 up the hill. With wild shouts the whole band 
 put after him, and the white men rising from 
 their covert, quickly but stealthily followed the 
 reds. Murphy, strong and swift of limb, easily
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 165 
 
 kept a safe distance ahead of his pursuers, who, 
 seeing their long-dreaded foe alone and unarmed, 
 determined upon his capture. He led them a 
 long chase, ending at the top of Vrooman's Nose, 
 where his escape seemed utterly impossible. An 
 instant he stood in plain view on the very sum- 
 mit and then, as the almost victorious braves 
 climbed the last stretch he disappeared ! Rush- 
 ing forward to the edge of the precipice, the 
 Indians looked over, thinking their courageous 
 enemy had killed himself rather than suffer tor- 
 ture at the stake. While they were still gazing 
 down, a volley of rifle-shots from behind tumbled 
 nine of them off the rock, and a second volley 
 followed by a short, sharp struggle finished the 
 remaining ten! 
 
 But what of Murphy? Had he vanished into 
 thin air? On the contrary, he had vanished 
 into the rock; and yet in a perfectly natural 
 way! A point of it jutted out, and over this he 
 had hung a long rope with both ends dangling 
 loose. Seizing the rope double, he had slidden 
 down to a narrow ledge some twenty feet below, 
 pulled the rope after him, and gone back out of 
 sight into a small cavern ! 
 
 That is the tradition. And if I do say it, I 
 believe my version to be as nearly true as any. 
 
 The idea of forcibly freeing Will Benson had 
 originated with George Wilson. Instead of fol- 
 lowing legal lines in his desire to assist Will, 
 his thought had been how to get him out of jail 
 and what to do with him afterward. It was a 
 long time before he hit upon a feasible plan, and 
 not until the above old folk-tale came to mind.
 
 1G6 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 He had heard it once when a small boy, and 
 never since. He believed that no one had ever 
 tried to prove the existence of a cave near the 
 top of Vrooman's Nose. Surely, if an attempt to 
 find it had been made the result would have be- 
 come public. 
 
 Like many another story of this country's 
 early history, the whole thing was called "an 
 imaginative fabrication." 
 
 "If there is a cave, that's the place to put Will 
 until something turns in his favor or the thing 
 quiets down, when we can get him out of the 
 country." George said this to a companion 
 one of the afterward formed company of six 
 while they were climbing the mountain with the 
 intention of learning the truth. They found a 
 projection of rock, and what seemed a long dis- 
 tance down was a ledge looking hardly wide 
 enough for a foothold. This was a perilous un- 
 dertaking, but George was equal to it, and soon 
 found himself on the ledge that was really wider 
 than it had appeared from above. An arm's 
 length from where he stood was a narrow up- 
 right fissure, and within the cave! A despair- 
 ing convulsion of the internal giant, being slowly 
 bound into submission, had forced up this moun- 
 tain through the strata when the world was 
 young, and the igneous formation cooling and 
 shrinking had made the hollow near the summit, 
 with an aperture to the open air. By turning 
 sidewise George could squeeze through, and, 
 finding the interior of sufficient size for the pur- 
 pose intended, was satisfied. How far his dis- 
 covery went toward substantiating the truth of
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY.] 167 
 
 the tradition did not concern him, and neither 
 does it us. Yet, there must have been some 
 shadow of fact in the story, for the cleft running 
 in at a slant and then straight to the cave, could 
 only be seen by one exploring in the same man- 
 ner as did George, and probably the Indian 
 fighter so long before. 
 
 Let us return to our adventurous friends whom 
 we last saw dismounted in the shadow of the jail. 
 
 Two of them held the horses, while "Walter, 
 followed by the other three, went up to the door 
 and hammered loudly upon it with the butt-end 
 of his revolver. The jailer, half-asleep, sat 
 awaiting the return of the deputy sheriff who 
 
 had gone to M for a prisoner, and the sharp 
 
 knocking brought him to his feet in a jiffy. 
 Kunning to the door he opened it, exclaiming: 
 
 "Well! I'm mighty glad you've come at last. 
 I ain't fond of settin' up all night!" 
 
 "Waiting for us, were you? And you're glad 
 we've come? Now that's kind, I'm sure." 
 
 This in a deep gruff voice that accorded well 
 with the speaker's fierce appearance. 
 
 "Mercy on us!" cried the jailer, rubbing his 
 eyes to make sure they were not deceiving him, 
 "what does this mean?" 
 
 Another look was enough, and he fell back in 
 dismay. 
 
 "Speak above a whisper," Walter hissed into 
 his ear, "and off goes your head." 
 
 Four ugly weapons held uncomfortably close 
 to the person addressed gave effective weight to 
 the above threat. 
 
 "You come with me, George," said Walter;
 
 168 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Phil keep the madam quiet" (meaning the 
 jailer's wife), "and Ben, look alive on the out- 
 side." 
 
 The "madam" \vas sound asleep, and luckily 
 so ; for a battery of Gatling guns would not have 
 been able to stop her tongue. A woman will 
 scream when frightened though death be the 
 penalty. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Jailer," Walter commanded with 
 satirical emphasis, "since you're so glad we've 
 come, just show us around a bit. Take us to 
 Will Benson's cell and bring your key. Be 
 lively, for we're in a hurry!" 
 
 The jailer began to protest. "That will do," 
 said Walter, pressing the cold muzzle of his re- 
 volver against the former's cheek. This man 
 had been keeper here for some years, and 
 nothing detrimental to his reputation had oc- 
 curred before, so, even at the risk of his life, he 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Do you want to make your wife a widow?" 
 asked Walter impatiently. At last, after un- 
 necessarily sorting over a bunch of keys to gain 
 time, the reluctant jailer found the right one. 
 Then, tired of so much delay, Walter rushed him 
 down the corridor in a way more precipitate than 
 dignified. Taking the key himself, Walter 
 turned the jailer over to the tender care of 
 George and entered the cell. 
 
 The turnkej r was ordinarily a man of "spunk," 
 and now that apparently he was not to be 
 harmed, his courage partially returned. 
 
 "You fellers is havin' yer own way," said he, 
 "but jest wait awhile. I'll have th' hull caboodle 
 of y'u locked in here."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 169 
 
 "That turns me pale," returned Wilson, forc- 
 ing him closer against the wall with a prod of 
 his "gun" in the helpless jailer's stomach. 
 "How will you do it?" 
 
 "Th' sheriff's comin' with a gang o' men," 
 adding to himself, "Gosh, I wish he was." 
 
 "Put your hands up higher," said George, 
 with another prod, "and stand on your toes" 
 (prod); "there, that's it; now we'll wait for the 
 sheriff." 
 
 While George was thus making it pleasant for 
 his charge, Walter had aroused the sleeping 
 occupant of the cell. "Come, Will, get up," 
 said he, giving the former a shake, "friends are 
 here to take you away. Half-dazed on being so 
 roughly awakened from a sound slumber, Will 
 sprang from the cot and looked around in won- 
 dering surprise. The moonlight coming through 
 the cell window made everything distinguish- 
 able. Before him stood an armed man with face 
 concealed, though evidently a friend as he had 
 said, for the door was standing wide open. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Will. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Walter, disguising 
 his voice. "We are friends and have made 
 a way for you to escape. Come at once; there's 
 no time to lose!" 
 
 The answer was not what he expected, yet he 
 should have known it would be no different. 
 
 "I appreciate your efforts in my behalf," said 
 Will, "but they are misdirected. I am innocent 
 of crime, and because a stupid grand jury in- 
 dicted me, it does not follow that I will be con- 
 victed. Anyhow, I prefer to stand on my honor
 
 170 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 and respect the profession I have adopted. So 
 you see it is impossible for me to accept your 
 services. Though," grasping "Walter's hand, 
 "I thank you and your associates just as sin- 
 cerely." 
 
 Not wishing to reveal his identity even 
 to "Will, Walter said no more. He went out, 
 closed and locked the door, and returned the key 
 to the jailer who was as much astonished at this 
 strange action as was George Wilson. 
 
 "What did you do that for?" asked the latter, 
 in an angry tone. Before Walter could explain, 
 the one called Ben ran iri with the cry : 
 
 "The sheriff and a posse!" 
 
 In almost as short a time as it takes to tell it, 
 the whole six were on horse and tearing down 
 the driveway to the street gate. The sheriff and 
 his party in full gallop were coming from the 
 opposite direction to that which our friends 
 wished to take, and close at hand. With a cheer 
 and a volley fired into the air behind them, the 
 jail-breakers were off and the race was on. 
 
 "Halt and surrender in the name of the law!" 
 shouted the sheriff. 
 
 "Go to thunder," was returned. The pur- 
 suers outnumbered the pursued two to one, and 
 were well mounted. But the party ahead rode 
 tough, mettlesome beasts and had a little the ad- 
 vantage in distance ; so it bade fair to be a lively 
 chase. 
 
 Again the sheriff commanded a surren- 
 der, and wasted his breath. His blood was up. 
 "Give it to 'em!" he cried. A few shots were 
 fired and the bullets whizzed harmlessly above 
 the boys ahead who lay close to their horse's
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 171 
 
 necks. The shouting, shooting, and thumping 
 of hoofs, roused people from their beds ; but all 
 kept within doors and peeped out in wonder, not 
 unmixed with fear, as the two bodies of horse- 
 men in quick succession went flying past. The 
 six were forced to go more slowly up a sharp 
 knoll, and then the twelve behind lashed their 
 steeds, gaining rapidly. 
 
 "Stop!" yelled the sheriff. "You're my 
 prisoners." 
 
 "Oh! go soak your head, old leather-pate!" 
 answered George Wilson, at the top of the ridge. 
 
 The sheriff ground his teeth. "Give it to 'em 
 ag'in!" he bellowed. "Cripple their horses!" 
 
 This time the balls buried themselves in the 
 ground, and the fugitives rode down the other 
 side with shouts of derision. 
 
 About three miles had been covered, and those 
 in the service of the law were not so young as 
 the ones fleeing from it, and not so used to rid- 
 ing. Beating his horse like a madman, the zeal- 
 ous minion forged ahead of his men, urging 
 them to follow faster, and began to draw nearer 
 his "prisoners." 
 
 "Sell those nags for crdw-bait," called back 
 George over his shoulder. At this juncture the 
 sheriff's horse struck a loose stone with a fore- 
 foot, stumbled, and threw its rider headlong 
 into the ditch. Glad of an excuse to stop, the 
 whole party drew up to learn the extent of their 
 leader's injuries. He was not much hurt; but 
 they went no further and the masked horsemen 
 were soon lost to sight. 
 
 George Wilson had been the prime mover and
 
 173 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 chief spirit in this affair. The turn things had 
 taken exasperated him, when it was plain that 
 their plans (rather his plans) could have been 
 carried out to the letter but for Walter Hart's 
 "flunking" at the last moment. Why had he 
 done so? "I was a fool," thought George, "for 
 taking him into it in the first place." 
 
 He said nothing to Walter until a spot was 
 
 reached, just below H , where they intended 
 
 to disband. Then, with suppressed anger he 
 demanded an explanation before them all. Wal- 
 ter related the brief conversation between Will 
 and he. The others were satisfied. George was 
 not, however, and in his heat he called Walter a 
 coward, and Will an ingrate. Walter tried to 
 expostulate with him, but there was no use; 
 George would have none of it, and rode away in 
 high choler. After so much trouble and pains, 
 to have a friend refuse your assistance with 
 thanks is enough to sour and disgust the most 
 even-tempered. The early summer dawn was 
 dimming the stars when the last one arrived 
 home, and although not all the members of their 
 several families remained ignorant of their 
 escapade, the secret was well kept. How did 
 the sheriff learn that they were at the jail ? Let 
 us see. 
 
 It will be remembered that the jailer was ex- 
 pecting the deputy. This last-named function- 
 ary had found there was some mistake and no 
 prisoner. So, he drank and played cards at the 
 hotel with a few convivial companions until mid- 
 night, before thinking of the jailer waitiog up 
 for his return from 31 . The byroad re- 
 ferred to in the fore part of this chapter follows
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 173 
 
 the trend of the hillside, which makes it a 
 crooked and circuitous route that accommodates 
 few beside those who live along it. At a place 
 
 probably two miles from M it curves around 
 
 -a projecting point of the hill, comes close to the 
 main highway, and recedes again. 
 
 Driving slowly on the "turnpike," the deputy 
 sheriff was trying to strike a balance between 
 his gains and losses for the evening, when, 
 chancing to look up, he saw our acquaintances, 
 the six horsemen, at the spot indicated above! 
 He could see them plainly in the open, while, 
 being in shadow himself they could not have 
 seen him even had they turned to look. As it 
 was, they were going in the same direction as he 
 upon the other road. One of them did look back 
 as the party rounded the curve, and in the 
 bright moonlight he could distinctly see a black 
 mask on the man's face! 
 
 Who were they and what was their mission? 
 He was not long iu arriving at a correct conclu- 
 sion. These were some of Will Benson's friends 
 bent on breaking the jail! He would frustrate 
 their plans or know the reason why ! He struck 
 his horse a sharp blow with the whip, and that 
 never-gorged animal, being so cruelly aroused 
 from a deep meditation on the possibility of 
 more oats, gave a lunge that jerked the deputy 
 and the seat of his ramshackle buggy back into 
 the dust. He was more shaken than hurt, how- 
 ever, and soon regained his former position in 
 the wagon. Then, like many another unreason- 
 ing person, lie revenged himself upon the hap- 
 less beast by beating it most unmercifully. This
 
 174 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 had the effect, nevertheless, of bringing him to 
 his destination away ahead of those he intended 
 to intercept. Without stopping at the jail he 
 drove right on and notified the sheriff, who was 
 so long in getting a posse together that, as we 
 have seen, they were too late. 
 
 The jailer had a brave tale to tell of how he 
 held six armed men at bay until the sheriff's 
 arrival frightened them off. So, instead of being 
 censured, he was made a hero. 
 
 The squire lay in bed all the next day, pros- 
 trated by the fright he had received. His story 
 caused much consternation among those who 
 knew no different, and great merriment among 
 those who did. He had been attacked on the 
 dugway by masked men, beaten and robbed, and 
 left for dead ! 
 
 It seemed to the staid, quiet-loving old plod- 
 ders of the neighborhood of H that the 
 
 reign of terror and excitement was never to 
 cease. On rising in the morning they never 
 knew what new sensation to expect, nor what 
 startling tales they were to hear. 
 
 And this state of things in a place where the 
 rising and setting of the sun was wont to meas- 
 ure the days; all equally peaceful and unevent- 
 ful ! The crimes that had kept people on the 
 qui vive of apprehension were supposed by most 
 of them to have been committed by one person. 
 But now it transpires that there is an organized 
 band of masked and mounted men who have the 
 temerity to waylay and rob even an "adminis- 
 trator" of the law! "What might happen next? 
 Who could feel safe while they were at large ?
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 175 
 
 Would it be necessary to institute a vigilance 
 committee for the public safety, in a hitherto 
 law-abiding community of the Empire State? 
 
 Reader, imagine yourself a resident of such a 
 place under like conditions, and you will easily 
 nee that their speculations were not unreasonable.
 
 176 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTEK XVH. 
 
 ANOTHER MYSTERIOUS THING HAPPENS. 
 
 AT the meeting-place of sages and philosophers 
 the store we find again the usual gathering, 
 disposed about in attitudes more or less com- 
 fortable. Walter Hart was among the number, 
 and he was very much amused at the conjectures 
 and comments on the occurrences narrated in the 
 last two chapters. 
 
 "Squire Blowhard says he was paounded an' 
 robbed," observed John Short, "but I'll be 
 danged ef I b'lieve a word on't. He wus skeert 
 mighty bad though, an' it's a darn good thing. 
 It sarves him right." 
 
 "It does, hey?" asked Bosh Warton. 
 
 "Ya-as, it does. These folks thet thinks 
 they're so tarnal smart, an' kin lord it over every- 
 body, ginnerally git their jest disserts." 
 
 "I shuddent wonder by th' way yeou talk," 
 said Bosh, "ef yeou wasn't one o' them there 
 masked fellers yerself. " 
 
 "No, I wasn't," returned Short, "but ef 
 yeou'd b'en there I'd liked to a-had a hand in. 
 I'd a-chucked yeour old carcass off'n th' dugway 
 an' sed : there goes nothin' an' nobody keers." 
 
 This nettled Bosh extremely, while Short was
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 17? 
 
 pleased at his own wit, and the laughter it 
 aroused. 
 
 "A man thet talks like yeou, " said Bosh, 
 "ain't fit t' be loose. An' I'm agoin' t' see 'baout 
 it tew." 
 
 "What d'yeou mean?" 
 
 "I mean jest what I say. Yeou needn't think 
 yeou kin go 'raound threatenin' t' throw me 
 off'n th' dugway with imputiny, b'gosh!" 
 
 "Phew! Let 'em come easy!" exclaimed 
 Short, winking at Pete Smith, "I haint got my 
 dickshinnery here y'u know." 
 
 "Wa-al, yeou kin laff it off; but I'll have a 
 haypsus corpsus sarved on yeou t'keepth' peace! 
 B'sides that, yeou're upholdin' highwaymen thet 
 waylay a respectable offisser o' th' law an' try 
 t'git a murderer aout o' jail!" 
 
 Bosh's voice always had a half-whining petulant 
 tone that seldom failed to aggravate the irritable 
 stage-driver, and now at this last assertion, 
 Short, who was one of the most outspoken of 
 "Will Benson's friends, became almost uncon- 
 trollably angry. 
 
 "Who's a murderer?" he shouted, actually 
 rubbing his fist against his perennial opponent's 
 nose. "Yeou petrified ol' ejeeot; tell me who? 
 Yeou dassent! Ef yeou wus a young single 
 unmarried man with no family, I'd knock th' 
 daylights aout o' y'u!" 
 
 "Hoi' on, John," remonstrated Smith, seizing 
 Short's arm, "yeou tew boys is putty well 
 matched, an' ef yeou git t' fightin' th'll be 
 blood shed." 
 
 Taking advantage of this interference, Bosh
 
 178 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 slid away as he habitually did after creating a 
 disturbance. 
 
 "Wy kaint yeou fellers argyfy without gittin' 
 into a row? : ' asked Smith, in a reproving tone, 
 with a slight smile of sarcasm. 
 
 " 'Cause that ol' cuss is so impident an' on- 
 reasonable," answered Short. "He don't seem 
 t' have no more sense than a stuck pig!" 
 
 Having given to his own mind a satisfac- 
 tory explanation, Short sat down on the platform 
 again, drew a knee up between his clasped hands, 
 and gazed meditatively at the toe of his boot. 
 
 "I s'posel'll haf t' tell yeou 'baouta man yeou 
 remind me of," said Smith. 
 
 Short looked at him with a dubious expression, 
 but made no remark, and Smith went on: "I 
 s'pose yeou've heern tell o' ol' Lem Tinker over 
 on Scotch Patent Hill? Wa-al, he wus th' most 
 cantankerous catamount I ever sot eyes on. 
 That is, araound them es cuddent help them- 
 selves; but t' ennybod}* else he wus es rueek es 
 a lamb. A poor orphant boy with no father an' 
 mother wus workin' fer him one time he had 
 no fences on his farm 'ceptin' boys he took fer 
 their board an' this boy mindin' th' caows fell 
 asleep, an' they got int' his oats an' trompled 
 'em all daown. Lem wus that mad he fairly tore 
 his hair, an' laid aout t' nigh 'baout kill that boy. 
 B'fore startin' in, though, Lem looked him over, 
 an' kinder kunsidered. He wus a putt.v wiry 
 slip of a lad, an' might give Lem quite a tussle. 
 So th' ol' coward ses t' him ses he: 'Yeou dod- 
 gasted lazy lout, ef yeou wus a leetle older, an' 
 had some one t' take keer on y'u arter I got
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 179 
 
 through with y 'u, I'd wallop yeou tew a haff inch 
 o' yer life!' I s'pose yeou see th' p'int?" 
 
 "Oh! go t'thunder with yer ' s'posinf ' 
 snapped Short, in an agony of wrath, as he 
 posted off, followed by the jeering laughter of 
 the crowd. 
 
 Such characters as these may be found in all 
 small places, and their quaint peculiar humor is 
 more amusing to a stranger than to those who 
 see them every day. The three participants in 
 the foregoing dialogue are fair samples of what 
 many people, laying claims to superior enlighten- 
 ment and erudition, really or pretendedly, believe 
 all rural inhabitants to be. The word "farmer" 
 is made a synonym of ignorance and stupidity, 
 for which no doubt the tiller of the soil is 
 greatly to blame; but this is wrong nevertheless. 
 Not all those possessed of intelligence who fol- 
 lowed agriculture have been driven out of it by 
 it's so-called "decadence," or have left it be- 
 cause they "knew too much." On the other 
 hand, a "decadence" in other lines of business 
 has driven a number of intelligent men into it as 
 a means of making a sure living. And, too, to 
 be a farmer in the finest sense at the present day, 
 a man must be intelligent as well as to a certain 
 deg-ree educated. The uncouth, ungrammatical 
 speech of many of them, seems very funny, and 
 yet not one that derides is absolutely correct in 
 his own language. 
 
 Verily the hardest thing to remember (except 
 debts or a wife's letter to be mailed) is the mote 
 in the eye that sees a beam in another. 
 
 The time for Will Benson's trial was drawing
 
 180 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 painfully near. I say painfully, for it was so to 
 Clara. She was anxious to know the best or the 
 worst, yet feared it might be the latter. She 
 had hoped it would come sooner and end her sus- 
 pense. As the time dragged along, her anticipa- 
 tions of his final release had grown less. With 
 little or no knowledge of any legal methods of 
 procedure, the slow workings of the law made 
 its terrors seem to her the more greatly magni- 
 fied. If there had been no preconceived intent 
 to convict Will, why could he not have been 
 tried at once? Almost everybody in the neigh- 
 borhood thought he was innocent, so there surely 
 must be a conspiracy against him. Thus Clara 
 reasoned as a woman will ignoring all routine 
 of courts and juries. 
 
 As she stood at the gate on the evening in 
 question, her reflections were by no means of a 
 coleur de rose. Had Walter gone directly home 
 he would have taken the road that began oppo- 
 site the store, crossed the stream a little further 
 on and went over the South Hill. Instead, he 
 went up the street, intending to engage the ser- 
 vices of a German day laborer who lived about a 
 mile east of the village, and then make a short 
 cut along the hillside, thus saving a considerable 
 time and distance. He was still smiling at the 
 "three-cornered jawin' match" he had just 
 heard, when, on seeing Clara, his face sobered 
 instantly. Ordinarily it would seem strange 
 that the sight of a pretty girl should change a 
 smile to a look of pain on the countenance of a 
 susceptible young man; but in this instance it 
 does not, for obvious reasons. He could never
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY- 181 
 
 be more to her than a friend, and this to him 
 was nothing at all. Rather would he that she 
 hated and despised him, for then they might 
 pass without a word or look. The suffering of 
 forced indifference and polite formality would 
 be prevented. "Walter felt sure that if he could 
 keep from seeing her, his passion might be con- 
 quered; but these chance meetings were severe 
 shocks. Few men have not at some period of 
 their lives been as "hard hit" as this poor 
 fellow. In fact, I think we must all plead 
 guilty. Almost every day we read of suicides 
 pro amour. Useless waste of life! And it seems 
 so foolish, when the world is full of sweet girls 
 anxious to be loved. I make such a statement 
 believing that woman is the life of love and love 
 the life of woman. Deprived of one, both are 
 lost, and the world becomes a howling wilder- 
 ness inhabited by bloodthirsty savages. Walter 
 stopped, turning hot and cold, too brave to re- 
 treat, and too cowardly to advance. Pulling 
 himself together at last, however, he marched 
 ahead with the forced courage of a man facing a 
 battery. 
 
 Clara raised her eyes and saw him. 
 
 "Good-evening, Walter," said she, as he came 
 up, "I am glad you came along. I wanted to 
 see you, and didn't know how to manage it." 
 
 "Is there anything you want me to do?" asked 
 Walter, flushing. 
 
 "No," she answered, "I only wanted to ask 
 you what you think of Will's chances for acquit- 
 tal, and if you know anything about that raid on 
 the jail?" Walter started slightly at the latter
 
 182 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 part of her interrogation, while she watched his 
 face keenly for some grain of hope, feeling sure 
 that he was one of those who had attempted to 
 liberate Will. 
 
 "I think his chances are very good," said 
 Walter, in a tone hardly as reassuring as his 
 words, "for you know he has a good lawyer who 
 will pick their evidence to pieces in no time." 
 
 "That is what Will says," interrupted Clara, 
 "but I was afraid he might be overconfident." 
 
 "If we could only lay hands on the man we've 
 been looking for," resumed Walter, "it would 
 be all plain sailing." 
 
 "Oh! If you only could!" she exclaimed, 
 clasping her hands. "Do you think he will ever 
 be found?" 
 
 "I have grave doubts," said Walter, trying to 
 look up at the sky, down at the earth, anywhere 
 except at the face that unnerved him and fail- 
 ing. He could not keep his eyes away from her. 
 
 "I shall be glad when the time comes for the 
 trial," said she, "but I dread it, for I am afraid 
 Will may never be free again!" 
 
 "If what I heard is true," said Walter, cau- 
 tiously, "he could as well as not be free now." 
 
 "How?" asked Clara, quickly and eagerly. 
 
 "Why, the fellows who were there the other 
 night had the cell door open and the way clear. " 
 
 "Then, for goodness sake, why did he stay?" 
 she asked, stamping her foot. 
 
 "Too scrupulous, I suppose," answered Wal- 
 ter absently, as he noticed her flashing eyes and 
 heightened color caused by the momentary ex- 
 citement. He would have gladly taken Will's 
 place in jail had it insured him her affections.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 183 
 
 "Is this true that you have just told me?" 
 asked Clara abruptly, thinking he might com- 
 mit himself, which he partially did. 
 
 "Yes," answered Walter, and then, noticing 
 the expression on her face, he hastened to say : 
 
 "That is, I understand it to be so; I got it 
 pretty straight." Taken unaware a man will 
 sometimes forget that a woman's secrets are soon 
 public property. Now she knew he was one of 
 the raiders. 
 
 "After Will's friends had gone so far as to get 
 the cell door open," said Clara, "I can't see 
 why he should remain. It wasn't treating them 
 very well, I am sure. I am just glad they 
 frightened Squire Blowhard anyway," she went 
 on, with spirit, "the mean old thing! If it 
 hadn't been for his officious spite and Bosh War- 
 ton's meddlesomeness, Will would never have 
 been accused. I really think that he has done it 
 because he knows Will is better versed in law 
 than he, and he thought it a safe way to vent his 
 spleen. He prates about 'the majesty and dig- 
 nity of the law.' If he represents either the one 
 or the other, then I don't know the meaning of 
 the words!" She had worked herself into a fine 
 passion, and Walter saw that if he valued his 
 self-control and peace of mind he had better not 
 stay much longer. Her pale, passive beauty as 
 he saw her first that evening was captivating; 
 but now, with head erect, eyes blazing, cheeks 
 and lips aglow and bosom swelling with indigna- 
 tion, she was positivelj r irresistible. 
 
 In a manner almost rude Walter tore himself 
 from her presence. At first Clara was surprised
 
 184 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 at this strange conduct, yet a moment's reflection 
 made the cause of it apparent. In anxiety for 
 "Will she had forgotten the state of Walter's 
 feelings toward herself. Now, she remembered 
 his hesitation on seeing her, how reluctantly he 
 had halted, and how uneasy he seemed while 
 she held him in conversation. And, too, she 
 thought she remembered a queer mad look about 
 his eyes, as though he were struggling with some 
 half-formed desperate resolution. Was this 
 imagination? No, it could not be. The impres- 
 sion was too vivid. What did he intend to do? 
 If I may use the expression, she dared not listen 
 to her thoughts. What she really did think 
 seemed to her on the following day a terrible 
 premonition of which she could not speak! 
 
 Walter walked away up the road at a sharp 
 pace, with head bent and brow contracted. His 
 heart was thumping loudly, and his brain was 
 in a whirl. Silently he cursed the unlucky star 
 under which he was born, and wondered if there 
 could be anybody else in the world as miserable 
 as he. 
 
 Some of my readers may be displeased that 
 the hero is left in jail while his former rival 
 takes such an active part in the story. We tried 
 to get him out, but he insisted on everything 
 being done "according to law, "so what different 
 could one do? Beside, I am like a certain great 
 and good man who was said to be painful!}' ad- 
 dicted to the rare habit of telling the truth. If 
 all prisoners were as the one with whom we have 
 to deal the walls of keeps need not be built for 
 strength. Perhaps there may be one later more 
 worthy of the name,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 185 
 
 Walter had been very steady of late, and for 
 this reason his mother was more than usually 
 worried at his non-appearance home that night. 
 In view of what had previously occurred in 
 the neighborhood, Mr. Hart was anxious him- 
 self; bat he tried to quiet her fears as best he 
 could. 
 
 She sat up late, watching in vain for Walter's 
 return, and at last fell asleep in her chair. 
 
 Bright and early in the morning derDeutscher 
 appeared at the farmhouse. 
 
 "Where is Walter?" asked Mr. Hart. 
 
 "Ich knows nicht, " answered the stolid Fritz, 
 with nose and eye inclined toward the breakfast 
 table. 
 
 "You must have seen him last night," said 
 Mr. Hart. 
 
 ' ' Shooer, ' ' returned the hungry Teuton, sniffin g 
 the appetizing odors arising from the wheat 
 cakes, ham and eggs and coffee. 
 
 "Where did he go after leaving you?" asked 
 Mr. Hart impatiently. 
 
 "Ich knows nicht; him coom und say 'You 
 vork?' un Ich say yaw, und den him go vay. " 
 
 "What direction did he take?" 
 
 "Votyousay?" 
 
 "Which way did he go? This way or that 
 way?" gesticulated Mr. Hart, trying to make 
 Fritz understand. 
 
 "Oh! yaw! Him go py der toor oud. Ich 
 ben der house in ven him cooin." 
 
 Disgusted with his stupidity, Mr. Hart 
 motioned toward the table and rushed off to the 
 barn. Without stopping for saddle or bridle,
 
 186 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 he led out a horse by the halter, sprang on its 
 back, and dashed away to spread the alarm. 
 The thought uppermost in his mind was foul 
 plaj'. But the gossips soon had another theory. 
 They knew of Clara Mason's faithfulness to Will, 
 and of Walter's weakness for her. One man had 
 passed W T alter as he left Clara at the gate, and 
 another had spoken to him a little later. His 
 looks and actions were such as to confirm them 
 in the belief now that disappointment in love 
 had caused him to take his own life! 
 
 Mr. Hart went wherever he thought Walter 
 might have gone, and learned of his movements 
 up to the time he left the German's cottage. 
 There the trail was lost. No one had soen him 
 since. If the earth had opened and swallowed 
 him up he could not have disappeared more 
 completely. This had almost literally happened, 
 although the earth seemed to have been previ- 
 ously prepared for the occasion. But that comes 
 later.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN UNSUCCESFUL SEARCH FOE WALTEE HABT AND WHAT 
 BECAME OF HIM. 
 
 THE whole village was wild with excitement 
 again. After all that had happened here the 
 slightest ripple was enough to start another wave 
 of apprehension. Previous to the beginning of 
 the series of disturbances that so wrought up 
 these slow-going, quiet-accustomed people, the 
 disappearance of such a wild young scapegrace 
 as Walter Hart was known to have been would 
 have caused no alarm. He had taken "a sudden 
 notion to go \Vest," or was "awaj r on a booze." 
 But now it was different. The opinion except 
 among a few who mentioned suicide was that 
 another murder had been committed. Anyhow, 
 a search must be made, and the male members of 
 the community turned out en masse. The party 
 went first to the little domicile of Fritz to begin 
 where the missing man was last seen. A line 
 pointing directly southwest would indicate his 
 route had he started for home from this place, 
 and all agreed with Mr. Hart (his father) that 
 he had probably done so. With a clear cool head 
 to lead and direct, they might have been success- 
 ful. Of such there seemed to be none. Mr. 
 Hart, usually self-possessed and deliberative,
 
 188 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 was so agitated and unnerved at thought of 
 what !;<:rrible thing they might discover that he 
 seeiueii t;; zed and unable to do more than keep 
 up with the rabble. All ran . helter-skelter 
 through the fields to the stream then ankle 
 deep crossed it and began climbing the hill. 
 
 A little up from the grassy bank of the stream 
 was a stone wall, the lower boundary of a pasture 
 lot. The sole occupant of this field was a large 
 vicious bull. His solitary life was not conducive 
 of amiability, and, as a consequence, he looked 
 upon all men as enemies. What right had the 
 biped animal man to keep him from his 
 proper place at the head of the herd? 
 
 He would wreak vengeance on every one of 
 them that came in his way. At the time our 
 friends arrived at the wall, this bovine gentle- 
 man was lying beneath a low scrubby tree, shel- 
 tered from the morning sun, and chewing the 
 cud of discontent. The tree was about a hun- 
 dred yards from the wall, and a number of the 
 party had nearly reached it before they saw the 
 bull or he them. He heard their loud talking 
 and arose to his feet. When they saw him he 
 was standing at present arms ready for a charge. 
 They stopped and hesitated whether to advance 
 or retreat. He quickly brought them to a deci- 
 sion. What meant this unwarranted invasion of 
 his sacred precincts? He would find out at 
 once! With head lowered and eyes flashing 
 fury, he shot out in their direction like an arrow 
 from a bow, while the welkin rang with his bel- 
 low of rage. The invaders had already turned, 
 and were making a record-breaking run for the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 189 
 
 wall. The distance was short, yet the pursuing 
 enemy was especially gifted by nature for sprint- 
 ing, and each man expected at every stride to 
 feel the unwelcome impulse of head and horns in 
 the rear. All reached the wall and scrambled or 
 fell over it in safety except one. Bosh War- 
 ton, of course, must be "the biggest toad in the 
 puddle," and by strenuous efforts had managed 
 to keep up with the van until it turned at the 
 onslaught of the bull, when with his rheumatic 
 joints he fell behind. He went over the wall im- 
 mediately after the others, however, though with 
 much less exertion of his own. On feeling the 
 impact in the "stern," he gave vent to a yell 
 of terror that echoed from the opposite hills, 
 and, sailing high and clear as an expert jumper 
 would vault a horizontal bar, struck the earth 
 beyond feet foremost. Then, after doing some 
 lively acrobatics against his will, finally brought 
 up in the shallow water below the bank. Four 
 or five men ran to his assistance at once, and 
 quickly had him lying on a sandy spot where 
 they had first started to cross the stream. 
 
 "Are you much hurt?" asked Mr. Hart, bend- 
 ing over him. 
 
 "Kaint tell yit, " answered Bosh, "till I feel 
 myself over; but I guess I am." 
 
 He rose slowly to a sitting posture, rubbed his 
 head, his back, and his elbows, looking ruefully 
 down the while at his torn pantaloons and barked 
 shin. 
 
 "Don't try no more o' them 'possum games," 
 said Pete Smith unfeelingly. ""We don't want 
 t'l ug yeou hum ag'in an' find aout th's uothin' 
 th' matter with y'u."
 
 190 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Bosh glanced up at him with a look of re- 
 proachful appeal that might as well have been 
 directed at a Sphinx. 
 
 "Yes," went on Smith, turning to Mr. Hart, 
 "he thought he was goin' t'kick th' bucket once 
 afore. But Dr. Sawbones skeert him back t' life 
 th' suddentest y'u ever seen." 
 
 "Why, Smith!" exclaimed Mr. Hart (who was 
 very pious), in a shocked tone, "how can you 
 speak so lightly of such a serious matter as 
 death!" 
 
 "Wa-a-1, " returned Smith, not at all moved, 
 "we've all got t' turn up aour toes some time, 
 an* I guess I won't git briled any more'n lots 
 o' folks that try t' shout th' roof offen th' meetin' 
 haouse. " 
 
 Bosh got upon his feet with the help of Mr. 
 Hart, and limped away, angry at himself that he 
 had not stayed home. 
 
 Despite his anxiety, Mr. Hart could not for- 
 bear doing what he considered his duty. 
 
 "Peter," said he, "you should give some 
 thought for the safety of your soul." 
 
 "Every protracted meetin' that's b'en here 
 I'veb'en tackeled on that same thing," answered 
 Smith, "an' I nerer said much tew it. But naow 
 that yeou've mentioned it, I don't mind tellin' 
 yeou my views. We're born int' this world 
 through no will o' aour own, an' we've no right 
 t' bother abaout what'll happen tew us arter wo 
 leave it. Yeou claim t' hev faith; but I don't 
 think y'u've got any 'tall. Ef y'u did hev, y'u'd 
 b'lieve th' Lord 'ud take keer o' y'u withaout 
 coaxin' an' beggin'. Ef we do what's right
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 191 
 
 by our fellermen an' that's say in* a good 'eal 
 aour souls'll come aout all right I'm thinkin'." 
 
 "Yet you know the Bible says the chief end 
 of man is to glorify God?" interposed Mr. Hart. 
 
 "Ya-as, I s'pose it does. But that was writ 
 by man, an' religion was mostly made by him 
 tew. O' course, y'u kaint dew wrong ef y u 
 follerth' Bible, though th's lots in it that I don't 
 take no stock in. Th' Lord is s'posed t' be all 
 powerful, all great, an' all wise. An' it must be 
 a disgustin' spectacle fer Him t'see a lot o' 
 worms daown here advisin' of Him what t' dew, 
 an' haow t' dew it. A wastin' time yellin' at 
 Him what they want one minit, an' th' next 
 sayin' that th' Lord'll pervide in th' way He 
 thinks best. I kaint see haow poor miserable 
 creeturs like us c'u'd dew much glorifyin' of 
 Him anyhaow. Th's lots o' things laid t' th' 
 Lord, tew, that He ain't guilty of. I s'pose ef 
 Bosh Warton had b'en killed, yeou'd a said 'twas 
 th' Lord's will, an' I'd a said 'twas th' devlish- 
 ness o' that bull. He wa't killed, so I s'pose 
 that was th' Lord's will j'sst th' same. Th' Bible 
 shows th' weakness of man putty much all 
 through it. An' th's a good deal on't thet ain't 
 no more divinely inspired than my little boy's 
 spellin' book. Th' Lord started things t'goin', 
 an' made sartin laws that religion ner nothin' 
 else kin change. I don't b'iieve a man kin go 
 on committin' depredations all his life, an' then 
 square accounts inside o' five minutes jest afore 
 he knocks under. Th' was lots o' things done 
 in Bible times, in th' name o' th' Lord, that 
 wa'n't nowhere nigh bein* right. Ef some o'
 
 102 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 this stuff was knocked aout on't, it 'ud be a darn 
 sight better, an' th'd be more religion. T' sim- 
 mer it daown tew a fine p'int, my text is: 'Do 
 right an' fear not.' An' that's jest es fur es my 
 religion goes!" 
 
 Smith had spoken calmly but rapidly giving 
 Mr. Hart no chance for contradiction or denial 
 and now he turned away apparently wishing to 
 drop the subject. In surprised, thoughtful, 
 silence, Mr. Hart rejoined the crowd, and the 
 search was again renewed. They carefully 
 avoided the "pasture-lot" and its inhospitable 
 tenant. As children say in playing the game of 
 "hunt the button," while in this vicinity they 
 were "warm," and as soon as they left it began 
 to get "cold." 
 
 Had "Taurus" been able to speak, he could 
 have told them something of Walter. But not 
 being so gifted, and taking no interest in human 
 affairs, except when he thought they interfered 
 with his own, he contented himself with watch- 
 ing them furtively until they went away, when 
 he resumed his shade and his cud. As we shall 
 afterward see, this enemy of mankind performed 
 a friendly office for one human being by causing 
 severe injury to another. (This may seem para- 
 doxical, yet the bull was consistent, for he knew 
 not the good he was doing.) Thus will appear 
 the truth of the phrase: "God moves in a mys- 
 terious way His wonders to perform." 
 
 The searchers continued their efforts, going 
 wherever they thought there might be a possi- 
 bility of finding a trace of the missing man. 
 Their exertions however, were all made in vain,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 19o 
 
 No sign was found and nothing more learned. 
 They finally gave up in despair; and it was with 
 a heavy heart that the one most interested went 
 home to report their failure to the anxious 
 mother, who firmly believed her son had been 
 killed. "For," said she, "he would not cause 
 me pain by staying away if it were possible for 
 him to return." 
 
 Now, let us see if we can be any more success- 
 ful in finding Walter than were his friends. 
 After leaving Fritz, he had gone in the same 
 direction, and crossed the stream at the same 
 place as the party afterward did in fruitless 
 quest of him. He climbed over the wall, and 
 went slowly up the ascent until a short distance 
 above the "scrubby" tree, when he sat down on 
 a small bowlder to meditate his ill-starred conflict 
 with Cupid. By this time the moon was shin- 
 ing brightly, and the outlying landscape ap- 
 peared a patchwork of light and shadow. The 
 stream below tinkled softly over the stones, and, 
 save for that, a quiet hush lay undisturbed upon 
 the scene. To the right, and not far from where 
 Walter sat, was a "gully" down the hillside, 
 worn by a rushing springtime torrent now a 
 trickling rill concealed by a thick growth of 
 small trees and bushes. 
 
 Along the edge of this ran another stonewall 
 at right angles to the one of which I have already 
 spoken. Just beyond the wall, within the 
 shadow, stood a gaunt white-birch, like the 
 ghastly specter, Death, hovering near, yet bear- 
 ing to enter the light. In a line with it, was 
 our despondent love-stricken friend, struggling
 
 194 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 again with his emotions, and muttering to him- 
 self as one half-demented. Why not end it all 
 at once? Life at the most is but a meager span, 
 BO, what matters it if a few days, weeks or years 
 be cut from the allotted time? And yet, youth, 
 health, and ever-springing hope, battle fiercely 
 to prolong it. "How much longer must I 
 suffer?" he asked himself. Unconsciously he 
 began throwing little stones down into the 
 stunted tree. This tree served the ruminant lord 
 of the field as a shelter from the dews of night, 
 as well as the rays of midday sun. He lay 
 dreaming, no doubt, of his ills, when a stone 
 thumped most unpleasantly against his side. 
 Thus unceremoniously aroused, he raised his 
 head and saw Walter in the act of throwing 
 another. Rising to his feet he walked out into 
 the bright moonlight, and eyed the unwitting 
 besieger savagely. "Walter previously unaware 
 of the bull's presence in the field was startled; 
 and, knowing the nature of these beasts, he beat 
 an instant and hasty retreat. Strange is the 
 mind of man! One moment he contemplates the 
 destruction of his life, and the next strains every 
 nerve to save it! The white-birch stretched out 
 its ghostly arms as Death awaits his victim 
 and Walter ran toward it, though, for the nonce 
 the grim Fiend was beaten. Walter cleared the 
 wall in time to escape the head and horns which 
 struck the stones with a terrific shock to the 
 bull. W T alter expected to land safely among the 
 bushes, but, instead, kept going down until he 
 struck upon a hard flat surface. His right leg 
 twisted under him, snapped just above the ankle,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 195 
 
 and he fell over on his back. He arose to a sit- 
 ting posture, giving his leg a wrench which 
 started an excruciating pain. Before he had 
 time to consider where he was, and what had 
 happened, a hand clutched his throat, and the 
 cold muzzle of a revolver was pressed against 
 his temple, while a stern voice said : "Keep quiet 
 or you are a dead man!" This was a situation fit 
 to try the most courageous man. Though raised 
 amid scenes of bucolic peace, Walter was not a 
 coward, and he determined, as the saying goes 
 "to keep a stiff upper lip, "no matter what might 
 happen. His eyes were becoming accustomed to 
 the darkness, and he could see just sufficiently 
 to ascertain the fact that he had fallen, or rather 
 jumped, into an old stone quarry that had been 
 abandoned for years. He had forgotten its exist- 
 ence, but now he remembered having "run 
 acorss" it once when a small boy while on a 
 berrying excursion. Even then it was so com- 
 pleteb' hidden by small growth that he had 
 barely escaped tumbling into it by catching hold 
 of bushes on the brink. This flashed through 
 his mind as he was still being held by the throat. 
 
 "You understand what I said?" asked the 
 person who was holding him from behind. 
 
 "Yes, I understand," answered "Walter, "I 
 couldn't do much anyhow, for I have broken my 
 leg." 
 
 He felt satisfied that he was not to be killed, 
 Not then, at least. After feeling Walter over 
 carefully to see that he had no weapons, the un- 
 known struck a match and lighted an oil laiiteru- 
 As the light flashed in the man's face Walter saw
 
 196 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 that he was confronted by the one he suspected of being 
 the murderer of Henry Mason! 
 
 In turn, the man recognized Walter as the 
 young fellow who had spoken to him so pleas- 
 antly when he was taking his first observation of 
 the village while standing in the road on the 
 hillside. He was against all men, for he had 
 committed crimes that made him an enemy to 
 all mankind. Still, he knew of no reason for 
 doing violence to this kindly faced young man. 
 The slight circumstance mentioned predisposed 
 him in Walter's favor, which shows that a kind 
 word may not be lost on even the worst criminal. 
 
 "Were you hunting me?" he asked, holding 
 the light close to Walter's face. His tone was 
 now so mild that Walter was reassured of per- 
 sonal safety. With an attempt at a smile the 
 latter answered : 
 
 "No, the bull was hunting me." 
 
 "Very good. I'm glad to hear it. If you had 
 been hunting me it would have been your last 
 hunt." 
 
 This was said in a way that convinced Walter 
 of its sincerity, and he trembled as he thought 
 of his position; helpless in the hands of this 
 blood-stained villain! 
 
 "I'll fix your leg now," said Walter's involun- 
 tary host, as he split a piece of board into small 
 sticks and produced a long strip of calico which 
 Walter had no doubt was that taken from Mr. 
 Young's store. Walter had not thought of his 
 injury after he felt the hand gripping his neck 
 and the revolver at his head, until now, when be 
 became again conscious of the severe pain.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 197 
 
 "With the deftness and celerity of a practiced sur- 
 geon, the man set the broken bones and bound 
 the leg with the "splints" and calico. This was 
 an exceedingly painful operation for Walter; but 
 after it was done he experienced such a sense of 
 relief that he thanked his benefactor profusely. 
 
 "That will do," was the answer, "I may 
 change my mind about you yet. I am a friend 
 to nobody, and I only did this to see if I had 
 forgotten what I once learned. I'll fix you a 
 bed, and I want you to say nothing to me and 
 not bother me." 
 
 Going to a corner of the quarry he soon re- 
 turned, carried Walter back to a couch of old 
 clothing, tied his hands, covered him with a 
 horse-blanket, blew out the light, and disap- 
 peared in the darkness at the other end of the 
 rock-bound apartment. It seems an unnecessary 
 precaution to tie the hands of a person with a 
 broken leg. Yet, this man intended to "make 
 assurance doubly sure." And the way he did it 
 deserves description, because of the considera- 
 tion he showed for Walter's comfort. Tying 
 them in front, he brought the piece of clothes 
 line that served the purpose around Walter's 
 body in such a manner that they could not be 
 raised to his mouth. This would prevent him 
 from loosening the cord with his teeth, and still 
 allow him to lie with ease 
 
 A stone under the clothing at the head made a 
 pillow, and, altogether, he might have fared 
 worse. Now he began to think. His mother 
 would watch anu wait for his return, growing 
 more and more frightened and anxious as the
 
 198 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 long night hours dragged on. His father would 
 be slow to think he had come to harm until at 
 last convinced by his continued absence. For 
 an instant he forgot his condition, and tried to 
 rise, succeeding only in doubling the pain in his 
 leg. After this, he was glad to lie perfectly 
 still. He had lain probably an hour or more 
 with everything that had happened since child- 
 hood trooping through his mind, when there 
 came a rustling from the other end of the 
 quarry. Turning his head and straining his 
 eyes in the dim light which was reflected from 
 the treetops above, he saw his captor place a 
 ladder of some kind against the rocky wall, climb 
 up, pull out the ladder, and vanish into the 
 bushes. Walter saw now why he had been so 
 securely imprisoned, as it were, in this place. 
 The fugitive from justice, now that his retreat 
 was discovered, could gain safety by flight long 
 before Walter might be found. Walter felt 
 grateful, nevertheless, that he had been so well 
 treated. His friends would make a search for 
 him the following day, and he felt s*ure of being 
 found. Thus he consoled himself; but, oh! the 
 pain in his leg. It came like knife-thrusts in 
 unison with the pulsations of his heart. Long 
 he lay, weak and sick from his hurt, turning his 
 head from side to side as he groaned and suffered. 
 At last exhausted nature succumbed to sleep 
 sweet oblivion and for a time the pain was con- 
 quered.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 199 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 THE PRISONER ESCAPES. 
 
 WHEN Walter Hart awoke from his first night's 
 sleep in the quarry it was broad daylight. 
 Although coming late, his sleep, dreamless and 
 heavy, left him much refreshed. At first he was 
 bewildered and unable to comprehend the situ- 
 ation. On attempting to turn over in the act of 
 rising, his tied hand and the pain which started 
 in his leg brought him to a sudden understand- 
 ing of what had occurred. A prolonged snore 
 smote the air, and, turning his head, Walter saw 
 his captor of the past night asleep on a bed 
 similar to his own at the further end of the 
 quarry. This was an unwelcome surprise. He 
 had imagined the man miles away, and hurrying 
 as fast as his feet could carry him. Why had he 
 returned? That remained to be answered. The 
 sleeper's face was turned toward Walter, so he 
 scrutinized it closely, notwithstanding the fact 
 that he could move only his head. It was rather 
 difficult and unsatisfactory, still, he was able to 
 discern the following features: A red bloated 
 face and nose, a shock of brown hair, ragged 
 unkempt whiskers a shade lighter, and a high 
 bulging forehead indicative of intelligence, which 
 illy accorded with the rest of his appearance. It 
 was a face that expressed the extreme of dissipa- 
 tion. He was slightly above the medium height,
 
 200 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 or probably I should say, beyond the medium 
 length, as he was lying down. He looked to be 
 strong and by no means ill-fed. His clothes 
 were not ragged but very dirty. His shirt and 
 collar had once been white, yet one would have 
 hardly suspected it. Evidently he had been 
 drinking, for a jug lay on the floor near by, from 
 which a part of the contents (presumably "hard 
 cider") had run. Walter's neck ached from 
 holding his head in the cramped position neces- 
 sary to see his fellow-lodger, so he was soon glad 
 to turn to an examination of the other surround- 
 ings. The quarry was about thirty feet long and 
 twenty wide by ten in depth. The soil on top 
 of the rock encompassing it was just sufficient to 
 support the tangled growth that served as an 
 effectual shield. 
 
 It was a capital hiding-place, but what puzzled 
 Walter was how this man could have found it. 
 The impetus Walter had given himself when 
 leaping the wall, had carried him through the 
 brushes and clear of the edge of the quarry, 
 otherwise he might not now be a prisoner. The 
 floor of this place was of comparatively smooth 
 rock. Over a little projection on the upper side, 
 some two feet from the floor, ran a tiny thread of 
 water, and here sat a large tin pail full to over- 
 flowing. Lying near the sleeper was what Wal- 
 ter knew to be the ladder he had seen used the 
 previous night. It was a part of a small tree 
 with limbs left long enough for steps. Two 
 small pieces of rock were near the lower side 
 upon the floor, undoubtedly for the purpose of 
 holding in place the foot of this primitive means
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 201 
 
 of exit while in use. In the opposite corner 
 from Walter at the same end of the quarry was 
 a circular pile of stones containing within this 
 hollow top some ashes and half-burned sticks. 
 Above this a strong branch intended to hold a 
 kettle was fastened in a crevice of the rock. The 
 culinary article named stood nearby, and close 
 to it was a pair of chickens and a basket of eggs 
 with a big loaf of bread. On some twigs stuck 
 into the seams at this corner of the apartment, 
 which might be called the kitchen, were various 
 things of necessary use in supplying the wants 
 of the inner man. Near the "fireplace" was an 
 ax, and also some wood ready cut for the pot. 
 Over this corner, as well as that occupied by 
 Walter, some poles arid brush had been placed 
 to keep off the rain, though such attempt at 
 shelter would seem to be ineffective in much of 
 a storm. The "furnishings" here, had been 
 pilfred piecemeal from houses in the country 
 about, and, altogether, this hermit thief was 
 possessed of quite a domestic arrangement. 
 There was an abundance of old blankets and 
 clothing, so that, with his nightly foragings, he 
 could eat and sleep during the day and take his 
 ease. Walter turned again to look at the 
 sleeper. He was lying in the same position, and 
 snoring with the same intensity. 
 
 This man was a very slick thief. He had been 
 operating in this community over three montha 
 and had been seen but once after he began, and 
 then only through the instinct of a dog. The 
 conclusions which Walter arrived at in regard to 
 him, were not far wrong, as was afterward shown.
 
 202 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 They were in substance as follows: He had 
 earned and plied his nefarious trade in some 
 large town or city, drinking and debauching on 
 the proceeds of his spoils until they were ex- 
 hausted, when he would return to his occupation 
 until his supply of money \vas replenished. The 
 atmosphere becoming too "warm," he had de- 
 cided to migrate to the countrj" for his "health." 
 No doubt, too, he was satiated with this extreme 
 of sensuality, and thought a sojourn among the 
 unsuspecting "jays" would be very much to his 
 benefit. He had scoured the country surround- 
 ing the village for a hiding-place, and stumbled 
 upon or into the quarry. As no one would be 
 likely to think of looking beneath the church, 
 he had concluded that that would be the safest 
 place to pass the days in sleep. And it would 
 bring him nearer to his field of operations at 
 night. As time passed, and his fear of their dis- 
 covering the quarry grew less, he had transferred 
 his stolen effects to that place Avhere he had been 
 cooking his meals after his nocturnal visitations. 
 Walter could not understand why he had not 
 either killed him (Walter) or left the country 
 after having been "dropped on" so unex- 
 pectedly. Yet, on second thought, it was prob- 
 able that he had another "job" in mind, and, 
 having his prisoner so safely bound, intended to 
 do it before leaving. Murder is seldom com- 
 mitted by even the most cold-blooded criminal, 
 if there is a way of meeting his ends quite as 
 easy. Walter looked at the ax and wondered if 
 it were possible for him to reach it and cut the 
 rope without making a noise. His leg would
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 203 
 
 torture him as soon as he began to move, but he 
 determined to make the attempt. He gave a 
 hitch which brought him half off the bed, and 
 caused a gasp of distress. At this instant the 
 sleeper awoke with a snort and sat up. 
 
 Walter gave another hitch back again, and lay 
 still, exhausted by the extreme pain. After a 
 minute he turned his head and saw the man sit- 
 ting on the bed staring about with bloodshot 
 eyes in a dazed manner. He had been drinking 
 heavily, though not until safe within the quarry, 
 as was proven by the unbroken eggs in the 
 basket, and by the empty jug lying prone and 
 unstoppered upon the floor. 
 
 They had both slept late. The sun was twink- 
 ling through the leaves overhead and close to its 
 zenith. After about ten minutes spent in gather- 
 ing his addled senses, Walter's uncongenial com- 
 panion arose, and staggering over, stood with 
 hands in pockets leering down at him. He had 
 not slept off the effects of his potations; but 
 Walter had no fear of him, for he seemed to be 
 more sillj' than vicious. 
 
 "Well, young feller," asked he, half-tottering 
 and then bracing himself with feet wide apart, 
 "how are you hie enjoying yourself?" 
 
 Thinking it better to humor him, Walter 
 answered in his pleasantest tone: "Very well, 
 thank you, except that I'm hungry." 
 
 "Oh! yes, to be sure. I'm a mean hie host 
 indeed. You can easily hie see hie that 
 I'm unaccustomed to hie entertaining." 
 
 Losing his balance and gaining it again, the 
 still drunken man turned toward the basket of
 
 204 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 eggs, while Walter watched anxiouslj- expecting 
 to see him fall and make a mess of the whole lot. 
 Instead, however, after some gallant maneuvering 
 on his part, and hairbreadth escapes on the part 
 of the eggs, the basket was at last deposited by 
 the side of Walter with its contents all intact. 
 Then, producing a long knife from the 
 "kitchen," he succeeded in slicing the bread 
 without losing a finger or even drawing blood. 
 With a great deal of fumbling and swearing he 
 untied Walter's hands, gave him four slices of 
 bread, helped him to four eggs, and sat down on 
 the floor himself. Holding the basket between 
 his knees, he ate bread and eggs for a full half 
 hour. 
 
 The bread was good, and the eggs though raw, 
 tasted delicious to Walter after his long fast. 
 Was he eating bread cut by the knife which had 
 killed Henry J/izson. This question kept recur- 
 ring to his mind, and nearly spoiled his appetite. 
 Yet, as hunger knows no sentiment, he ate his 
 stipulated ration and could have eaten much 
 more. After breaking the last shell, and finish- 
 ing the last crumb, Walter's genial (pro tern- 
 pore) host arose to his feet, and found them 
 much steadier, as was also his tongue. He was 
 still in a mellow mood and inclined to be jolly. 
 
 "I am very sorry,' 1 said he, "that we were 
 obliged to eat our eggs raw; but I never allow 
 the cook to make a fire in the daytime, for the 
 smoke might attract the notice of the neighbors. 
 And, as I am of a very retiring disposition, I 
 might be annoyed by an attempt on their part to 
 cultivate my acquaintance. To-night we will 
 have roasted capon."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 205 
 
 This was said with a mock gravity that made 
 Walter smile in spite of himself. 
 
 "I did very well, I am sure," said Walter, 
 "but if I am not troubling you too much, I 
 should like a drink." 
 
 "Ah! yes. Pardon my neglect," flourished 
 the supremely affable. 
 
 Picking up the jug, he closed one eye, squinted 
 into it (the jug) with the other, turned it bot- 
 tom upward, and finally sat it down with a look 
 of disgust. 
 
 "Well, well!" said he. "If that rascally 
 butler hasn't robbed my wine cellar of every 
 drop! I'll discharge the rogue at once!" 
 
 "Never mind," laughed Walter, "under the 
 circumstances, water will do as well." 
 
 Feigning astonishment, the bloated-faced sot 
 asked: "Do you really mean it?" 
 
 Then, bringing a cupful from the pail, he 
 continued with a shake of the head: "You are 
 very reckless, young man, very." 
 
 Thanking him, Walter said: "I appreciate 
 your hospitality to the fullest extent. Yet I feel 
 that I am intruding upon your seclusion. If you 
 will assist me out to the surface, I'll try to make 
 the best of my way home. " Walter ventured this, 
 thinking the moment opportune, while the man 
 was in good humor. 
 
 "Oh! my dear sir! Don't speak of it. I 
 could never think of your leaving here so soon. 
 For, I assure you, I enjoy your company exceed- 
 ingly. Beside, you must keep perfectly quiet 
 or you will cause inflammation in your leg. 
 After I have attended to a little matter of busi-
 
 206 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 ness, now pending, I expect to make an ex- 
 tended tour of the country ; and I hope you will 
 not demur if I insist on your staying until I am 
 ready to start." What a travesty on society! 
 This unkempt outcast from it stood aping the 
 airs and gestures of a fine gentleman, speaking 
 with more sincerity than many a host in "society 
 as (we) I have found it" at the present day. 
 
 His words contained a veiled meaning that was 
 as positive as it was unmistakable. Knowing 
 that the best and safest way was to acquiesce 
 with a good grace, Walter answered in an ap- 
 parently indifferent tone: "Of course, I will 
 stay if you wish it." Walter's use of the sub- 
 junctive seemed to decide the self-imposed jailer 
 to settle the matter at once. 
 
 "Now then," said he, "I shall have to fasten 
 your hands again as they were, for fear of your 
 attempting to move about and do yourself 
 injurj'." He emphasized the last word, and 
 Walter was easily able to understand. Having 
 carried out his expressed intention, he retired to 
 his own bed, and in a short time was snoring in 
 a way that shocks the (newly-wedded) angels. 
 Walter lay studying how he was to extricate 
 himself from this unpleasant situation, and the 
 more he turned it over in his mind the more 
 difficult it seemed. He looked at the ax. It was 
 standing against the side of the quarry. If it 
 were lying flat and he could reach it the rope 
 might be cut. But each move would be attended 
 by exquisite pain, and to get the ax down with- 
 out making a noise was practically impossible. 
 For the time being he must give up all thought
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 207 
 
 of escape, though this was not so easily done. 
 However, the deep nasal tones if they might be 
 called such proceeding from the other extremity 
 of the quarry were not long in diverting his 
 mind to the strange individual with whom cir- 
 cumstances had almost literally thrown him in 
 contact. His language was that of an educated 
 man, when he chose to have it so, and there were 
 traces, never so slight, of early refinement. He 
 was of an uncertain age. Dissipation had played 
 such havoc with his appearance that he might 
 have been thirty-five or even forty-five. His 
 beard was not an intention but a neglect, and it 
 probably made him look older than he really was. 
 What had driven him to this condition? Had 
 he been driven at all? Might not he have been 
 inclined to bad and drifted slowly into his pres- 
 ent state? These things were destined to be 
 made clear in due season. After awhile Walter's 
 thoughts began to wander, and grow mixed and 
 shadowy, until they were lost in sleep. When 
 he awoke it was dark and his ''host" was bend- 
 ing over the kettle which hung on the fire. A 
 pleasant odor of roasting fowl greeted Walter's 
 olfactory organs and whetted his appetite, only 
 partially appeased by his last scanty meal. The 
 smell of coffee, too, added zest to his hunger. 
 This man was surely demonstrating the possibil- 
 ity of living upon the bounties of others without 
 their consent, and evidently in spite of their 
 efforts to interfere. They had watched and lain 
 in wait; but he was always too sharp to be 
 caught. Walter felt that he had a certain 
 amount of reason to be grateful for the consider-
 
 208 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 ate treatment he was receiving. For it would 
 be only logical to expect more summary usage at 
 the hands of a person who had so outraged 
 society as to make it necessary for him to con- 
 sider every man an enemy. 
 
 In a few minutes the pot was removed from 
 the. fire, and its contents placed on a large tin. 
 Picking up the lantern which was lighted, the 
 now thoroughly sober man put it on the floor 
 close to Walter, untied the latter's hands, and 
 brought him a whole chicken along with a tin 
 cup of coffee. The fowl was too hot to be eaten 
 at once, though Walter did not wait long, and in 
 a short time after he attacked it nothing but the 
 bones remained in evidence. Then he drank the 
 coffee and thanked his generous keeper warmly. 
 That individual, however, deigned no reply and 
 made no remark. Walter tried to engage him in 
 conversation, but could get nothing from him 
 more than a grunt of disapproval. On finishing 
 the other fowl, extinguishing the fire, retying 
 Walter, and blowing out the light, the silent 
 man returned again to his own corner. The dead 
 silence was broken only by the steady dripping 
 of water into the pail, and this slight sound 
 seemed to Walter in the present state of his 
 nerves almost a roar. He lay thinking, think- 
 ing, as usual, and again fell into an uneasy slum- 
 ber. First, his captor was creeping cautiously 
 toward him with the long knife in his hand and a 
 demoniacal expression on his bloated face; then, 
 he and Clara were standing at the gate while she 
 was renouncing Will and pledging her love to 
 him ; and again, Will was on the scaffold point-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 209 
 
 ing an accusing finger at him as the real mur- 
 derer, and the man of the quarry was holding the 
 black cap in readiness, awaiting the sheriff's 
 order. The sheriff decided that he (Walter) 
 must be taken, and, as he turned to fly, the red- 
 visaged fiend forced the cap over his head. With 
 a start that cut the cord into his wrists and 
 twinged his leg, he awoke staring at the dark- 
 ness in terror, so real had seemed his dream. 
 He lay awake a long time after this, and when 
 he did get asleep slept soundly until late the 
 next day. 
 
 It was afternoon, and the other occupant of 
 the quarry was sitting on his bed talking angrily 
 to himself. Feigning sleep Walter listened to 
 catch if possible the drift of his incoherent 
 words. This was all he could hear, ''bank," 
 "watchman," " 'most daylight," "hun- 
 gry," "not a d n thing to eat." Walter 
 began to think. What was he talking about? 
 
 Ah ! He had been to M with the intention 
 
 of robbing the bank. Something had occurred 
 to frighten him away, and, having only just time 
 to get back before daylight, he had been unable 
 to appropriate anything for food. Walter was 
 very hungry himself, yet he dared not speak of 
 it now, and decided to keep up the appearance 
 of sleep. So this was the "business" that was 
 keeping him to rob the bank. He had been 
 unsuccessful thus far, and would perhaps wait 
 for another favorable opportunity. The bank 
 was in a small one-story brick building, which, 
 though on the principal street, stood somewhat 
 isolated. For the sake of enconoiny the light
 
 210 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 in front of it was extinguished every night at 
 twelve o'clock by the watchman, who would then 
 resume his couch within and sweetly repose un- 
 til morning. It afterward developed that "our 
 friend the enemy," with his eye on this reposi- 
 tory for honest people's savings had noted these 
 things; also that the small bars across the front 
 window were screwed to the casing outside; 
 that the window was fastened by a very ordinary 
 catch; and that the supposed watchman slepfc 
 somewhere in the rear. By means known only 
 to himself he had obtained a screwdriver, a 
 glass cutter, a hand-drill, a canister of powder 
 and a bottle of anaesthetic with a sponge. I 
 think you can see his plan without further ex- 
 planation. On the night in question the watch- 
 man contrary to custom had probably been on 
 the alert. 
 
 I presume you will be as tired of reading this 
 detail as I am of writing it, so we will skip over 
 two or three days, during which conditions at the 
 quarry remained about the same. The time was 
 passed by Walter in discomfort, hunger, and 
 pain; although this enforced quiet was the 
 proper thing for his leg, yet not for his peace of 
 mind. "Surely," thought he, "a search must 
 have been made; then why have I not been 
 found?" "Was there no person in the village who 
 knew of the existence of the quarry? Lying 
 thus, bound and helpless, and not knowing when 
 or how his captivity was to end, Walter's spirits 
 sank to the lowest depths of despondency. He 
 was always hungry. Occasionally a little food 
 would be given him, but never enough since 
 the second night to stop his craving.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 211 
 
 It depended upon the success and inclination 
 of the forager, whose temper of late seemed ever 
 on the verge of an outbreak. 
 
 The "business" had miscarried and he had 
 been unable to refill the jug, hence his anger. 
 Walter hardly dared speak to him, fearing that, 
 as he had said, he might "change his mind" 
 and rid himself of a troublesome charge by using 
 the ax or the knife. One morning it flashed 
 across Walter's mind that that was the dey set 
 for Will Benson's trial. He reckoned up the 
 time he had been confined in the quarry and 
 found he was right. 
 
 Was there no possible way for him to get free 
 and notify somebody of what he had learned in 
 regard to the case? Then he asked himself: 
 what had he learned? The only answer was 
 nothing. If he were free now he could only say 
 that he suspected this man, whom they migbt 
 hold on suspicion providing they could catch 
 him. He could be held on charges of larceny 
 nevertheless; but that was something else. 
 
 Walter lay all that long day trying to devise 
 a plan of escape, and when darkness settled into 
 the quarry it found him as far from his object 
 as ever. That night the forager went forth 
 again, leaving all snug and pulling up his "lad- 
 der" as usual. Walter could not sleep. In 
 fact, he never slept now until too exhausted men- 
 tally to keep awake. Always thinking, think- 
 ing, thinking; it seemed that he would go in- 
 sane. His head and eyes ached, his tongue was 
 parched, and he was faint from hunger. After
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 what seemed an eternity of black despair, all was 
 blank once more. 
 
 "When he awoke it was bright sunlight, and 
 nearly midday. In the further corner lay his 
 captor, apparently in the lethargic stupor of ex- 
 treme drunkenness. The empty jug was lying 
 on the floor; but none of its contents had this 
 time been allowed to go to waste. The sot had 
 "guzzled" it all, for, considering his appetite 
 and his late unwilling abstinence, he must have 
 been very "thirsty." To a slave of drink, hard- 
 cider will serve every purpose when nothing 
 better, or rather worse, can be had. Walter's 
 heart gave a bound as he noticed the drooping 
 jaw, and the bluish pallor of the man's face. 
 
 He felt sure that nothing less than a cannon 
 shot could disturb him. Now was the time to 
 make an effort if ever, and Walter determined to 
 try, as he remarked to himself, "leg or no leg." 
 The ax was standing in its accustomed place, and 
 the first thing to do was to get to it. Sliding 
 from the bed he began "kicking" himself along 
 with his left foot, dragging the other. It was a 
 painful mode of locomotion, but the only one 
 possible, so, shutting his teeth hard, he tried to 
 concentrate his mind solely upon the object of 
 his efforts. 
 
 This was slow work indeed. Often he was 
 obliged to stop and lie still for minutes at a 
 time, so weak was he, and so great was the pain 
 in his leg. The distance to be traversed was not 
 more than twenty-five feet, yet, though he made 
 good progress all considered, it seemed hours be- 
 fore the ax was reached. When he tried to get
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 213 
 
 it down it fell with a clatter that startled him. 
 His fears were groundless, however, for no 
 amount of noise could interfere with his project 
 now. With his foot he worked the ax around so 
 that the head of it was against the rocky side, 
 and the blade or edge protruded out. Then, 
 moving to such a position that the cord around 
 his body was brought in contact with the ax, he 
 soon had the satisfaction of feeling it part. 
 Turning on his side, the work of a moment freed 
 his hands. They were swollen, and the skin of 
 his wrists was broken and sore. It required 
 some little exercise of his fingers to return them 
 to a condition of use. He spied the basket near 
 by containing a few eggs and some biscuit. 
 These he quickly ate avid felt stronger at once. 
 He looked across at tho pail of water, though 
 that was not to be thought of now. Time was 
 precious. With a great deal of difficulty he got 
 the ladder in place, but at the first step upon it 
 he nearly fainted. If he had suffered before, it 
 was now positive torture. Yet he must keep on; 
 there must be no giving up for a little pain. It 
 took all of his force of will, and every atom of 
 his strength. This was a hard job he had under- 
 taken, hampered as he was, for ladders that grow 
 have no rungs, and the steps are far apart. At 
 least he reached the top, and fell exhausted on 
 the edge of the quarry. For a full half-hour he 
 was scarcely able to move. Then, dragging him- 
 self through the bushes to the stone wall, he 
 got upon his uninjured limb, put one hand on 
 the wall, and hopped along with the help of a 
 stick in the other. Several times he struck the
 
 214 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 foot of his broken leg on the ground, and it 
 seemed he -would go mad with agony. Fre- 
 quently he was obliged to lie flat upon the 
 ground, as that relieved the pain; but each time 
 he arose it, if possible, was more intense than 
 the last. In this way he finally arrived at the 
 corner of the wall which bounded the pasture- 
 field. Now his courage failed. He felt that all 
 hope of succor must be given up. From where 
 he stood not a house was in sight, and he 
 thought not a human being. A heat-quivering 
 noondaj r hush filled the air, and the relentless 
 sun, beating upon his uncovered head, made his 
 temples throb fit to burst. He turned and 
 looked down the wall that bordered the stream. 
 "What is that thing moving among the bushes? 
 A woman's sunbonnet! With a shout of min- 
 gled pain and apprisal he fell lifeless to the 
 ground I
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 VIOLET CLARK. 
 
 BEFOKE going any further I shall have to intro- 
 duce a new character, and the reader will see by 
 what a slight circumstance a man was saved from 
 probable death, and the whole tenor of two 
 minds and lives was changed. 
 
 Was it a circumstance? Is it chance that 
 takes a man a block out of his way and saves his 
 life from an explosion? Was it merely "happen 
 so," that an acquaintance of mine with his 
 family missed the "New York Central" train 
 which was thrown into the Hudson not very long 
 since? It is said that "we are victims of cir- 
 cumstance." Those who have been unfortunate 
 may believe this ; but there are many others that 
 think themselves objects of providential assist- 
 ance. I could mention a score of things that 
 have happened to me, all ultimately for my 
 benefit, yet not all agreeable to my desires at the 
 time. You will hear people ask: "Why is it 
 everything seems to go wrong?" That is just it. 
 
 It seems so. There is an Omniscience that 
 regulates with inevitable correctness, let us wish, 
 hope, or pray as we will. 
 
 Violet Clark, the minister's daughter, was as 
 sweet and shy as the flower for which she was
 
 216 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 named. Although of about the same age and 
 height as Clara Mason, the contrast between 
 them was most marked indeed. While capable 
 of loving with the same intensity, Violet could 
 not have braved public opinion for the object of 
 her affections as Clara had done. 
 
 She was less full of figure than Clara, though 
 well rounded and graceful. Her regular features, 
 displaj'ing the bloom of health, with eyes of 
 liquid blue, and a mass of flaxen hair, made her 
 "fair to look upon." She loved the flowers, the 
 fields, and the sunshine, and much of her time 
 was spent with nature always alone. Having 
 no brothers or sisters, she had early learned to 
 amuse and entertain herseli. Clara and she were 
 friends, but not very intimate, for their natures 
 it seemed were too much at variance. Yet, 
 nevertheless, in many things their tastes were 
 similar. Clara commanded admiration, while 
 Violet was passed by with a single glance. This 
 made little difference to the latter, however, ex- 
 cept that is gave her less embarrassment. She 
 often said when looking at her own reflection, 
 "nobody will ever care for a towhead like me;" 
 but she was unconscious of the fact that, com- 
 bined with such a face and such large lustrous 
 eyes, her hair was by no means unbecoming. 
 "Heart and fancy free, " she roamed about at her 
 own sweet will. On the day that Walter Hart 
 made his painful exit from the quarry, and 
 which, by the way, was the second day of Will 
 Benson's trial, Mrs. Clark and Violet sat at their 
 "dinner" as the midday meal is called in the 
 country after the husband and father had gone
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 21? 
 
 to his study. Looking out through the open 
 door, Violet exclaimed : 
 
 ''There is Miss Sharply coming down the 
 street! If she stops here I shall go out at 
 once. I can't stand it to hear her continually 
 berating eveiybody. I hope if its my lot to 
 be an old maid I shall not have such a vinegary 
 disposition as hers. She never has a good word 
 for any one." 
 
 "Don't let her see you running away," cau- 
 tioned Mrs. Clark, who knew that Miss Sharply 
 was aware of Violet's aversion to her. Violet 
 watched the spinster until she crossed the street, 
 and then springing up said: 
 
 "I'll go and see if I can get some berries 
 for tea. " This was the "circumstance. " Had 
 Miss Sharply kept on down the street, Violet 
 would not have gone. She would have remained 
 at home to work on a dress she was anxious to 
 finish. Miss Sharply considered it her privilege 
 to inform Mrs. Clark occasionally as to what she 
 thought the duties of a minister's wife and 
 daughter were, and incidentally to dispense a 
 little scandal. Mrs. Clark bore it patiently, but 
 Violet would always find some pretext for leaving 
 the room soon after her arrival. I think that in 
 most cases, maiden ladies, whose ages may be 
 more or less, are not properly treated by the 
 majority of authors. I have known many 
 elderly girls whose natures were far sweeter 
 and more lovable than their younger sisters'. 
 Still, when the contrary occurs the truth must be 
 told. 
 
 As we have no interest in the conversation
 
 218 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 begun by Miss Sharply we will leave the long- 
 suffering Mrs. Clark to her tender mercies, and 
 follow the footsteps of sweet Violet. A loose 
 calico wrapper concealing the youthful curves 
 and contour of her figure, with a large sun- 
 bonnet extending far beyond her face, would 
 have left an observer under no impression of the 
 beauty tbus hidden. The dress was cool, and 
 the "bonnet" protected her sensitive skin from 
 tan. Swinging a small tin pail in her hand, she 
 crossed the fields and crept through the fence 
 bordering the stream. Some stones had been 
 placed in the water here, and, stepping carefully 
 from one to another, she was soon on the further 
 side. Meeting with little success, she kept on 
 up the stream, and at last came to the pasture-lot 
 mentioned before. Here close to the lower wall 
 was a large clump of bushes loaded with luscious, 
 delicate-flavored red raspberries. With an ex- 
 clamation of delight she ran to the spot and 
 began filling her pail, and occasionally her 
 mouth. The rich juicy fruit was not redder nor 
 sweeter than her lips. She had not long been 
 thus engaged, when, in a tone of painful en- 
 treaty, there came a cry that thrilled her every 
 nerve! Turning she looked with fear-filled eyes 
 in the direction from whence it came, and saw a 
 man fall upon the greensward and lie still! 
 Her first impulse was to run. But her tender 
 heart told her that if this man were not now 
 dead he needed assistance. She had a child- 
 like fear of the presence of death, so, as she 
 timidly advanced toward the prostrate form, her 
 limbs trembled violently, and only by exercising
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 219 
 
 an unusual power of will could she keep from 
 flying. With eyes fixed on that upturned face 
 she drew slowly near, and soon recognized the 
 features of Walter Hart! But how changed! 
 His face was pale and emaciated, his dark hair 
 was matted and tangled, and his clothes were 
 torn and dirty. She noticed his right leg wound 
 with strips of calico, and diviued the reason. 
 Where had he been, and what had happened 
 him? Without waiting to speculate further she 
 poured the berries out upon the ground, and, 
 running to the stream, filled her pail with water. 
 Hastening back she dashed it in his face, and 
 stood by his side to shield him from the sun. 
 She had lost her fear now. Feeling sure he had 
 only fainted from weakness, and knowing 
 nothing more to do, she waited for the return of 
 consciousness which was being presaged by a 
 slight tinge of color in his cheeks. The first 
 thing Walter noticed was the look of compassion- 
 ate tenderness in those beautiful eyes. As he 
 recognized her, he smiled and said : 
 
 "Thank you, Violet; I didn't know I was so 
 weak." 
 
 "I haven't done much I am sure," she 
 answered, blushing, "but I am glad I was here 
 to do that little at least. I was dreadfully 
 frightened; I thought you were dead." 
 
 'You will be the means of saving my life," 
 said Walter earnestly, "and I shall not soon for- 
 get it. In my condition, I could never have 
 reached a house alive. Fritz's is the nearest, 
 and that's nearly a mile away."
 
 220 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 He spoke with an effort, and Violet could see 
 that his strength was at a low ebb. 
 
 "I'll run for help at once," said she, turning 
 to go. 
 
 "Wait a minute," he called, and then, as 
 briefly as possible, he told her of what had oc- 
 curred. "Tell Squire Blowhard to hurry," he 
 finished, "or that man may be sober enough to 
 skip before he gets here." 
 
 Violet assisted him to the shade of a near-by 
 tree, and, closing his eyes, he fell back with an 
 involuntary groan. Now that he had done all 
 he could, and help was assured, he began to feel 
 better mentally ; but his leg it seemed the tor- 
 ture was almost to great too bear. Yet, in spite 
 of this, his mind was on the girl who was hasten- 
 ing to his further assistance. In her excitement 
 Violet had forgotten her appearance, or she 
 might have blushed still deeper than she did. 
 Before entering the patch of tangled bushes, she 
 had pinned her dress tightly back to prevent its 
 being torn. This had raised it sufficiently to dis- 
 play a pair of perfect ankles, and make the out- 
 line of her form complete. Her sunbonnet too 
 had fallen off, and, altogether, she had made an 
 entrancing picture as she stood by Walter 
 while he was telling of his adventures listening, 
 with dilated eyes and expressions of astonish- 
 ment, all unconscious of the impression being 
 made on him. Not until she had nearly reached 
 the village did Violet notice anything unusual 
 about her dress. Then, removing the pins, she 
 turned scarlet at thought of her seeming im- 
 modesty. The fair vision Walter had seen was
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 221 
 
 still before his eyes. It would not down. It 
 had come to stay. "Why," he asked himself, 
 "have her charms so long escaped my notice?" 
 
 He had been bewailing the fate that deprived 
 him of one girl's love while another just as 
 sweet and attractive in her own way was known 
 to him, and whom he had never given a second 
 thought. The soft touch, and sympathetic 
 glance of a woman in time of illness, have won 
 many a man's heart for ay; and made him see 
 attractions he never saw before. 
 
 Walter had forgotten that the squire and con- 
 stable would be at the trial, but Violet thought 
 of it on the way. So, going directly home, she 
 informed her father. Almost everybody had 
 gone to the county seat that day, yet Mr. Clark 
 found a couple of our old acquaintances and 
 pressed them into service. Procuring a team of 
 horses and a goodl.y-sized wagon, they hurried to 
 the relief and the capture. Bj r opening gates, 
 and taking down "bars," they were able to drive 
 comparatively close to the spot where Walter 
 lay.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF WILL BENSON* 8 TRIAL. 
 
 IT was necessary to close the last chapter on 
 the second day of the memorable murder trial, 
 so it becomes necessary now to turn back the 
 wheels of time a space of twenty-four hours in 
 beginning this. Presto! it is done! Let us 
 proceed. 
 
 Early that morning vehicles of all kinds be- 
 gan to arrive at the county seat, and long ere 
 the last one had come there was such a crowd 
 of people there as had never congregated in the 
 town before. No Fourth-of-July celebration 
 could have brought out so many, for that might 
 be seen each year; but- a murder trial was a 
 rarity indeed. Beside, much interest was man- 
 ifest on account of the atrocity of the crime and 
 the character of the person accused. Will Ben- 
 son was very well known by the most of them, 
 and this large majority believed him innocent. 
 The story of his refusal of an opportunity to 
 leave the jail had gotten out, and this, as re- 
 garded public sentiment went far in his favor. 
 Long before the proceedings began the court- 
 room was packed to its utmost capacity, and 
 the open windows were filled with the heads of 
 those who were standing outside on boxes, bar-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 223 
 
 rels, and anything that would bring them above 
 the sills far enough to see and hear. Clara and 
 Miss Wilkins had corne with Mr. and Mrs. "Wil- 
 bur, and were sitting- with them as near the pris- 
 oner as possible. The women were all three 
 paie and nervous, yet Clara was keeping up 
 bravely. 
 
 Will smiled at her reassuringly, and she felt 
 that in some way he would get clear, although 
 she noticed that Will's lawyer, Mr. Spencer, 
 looked very serious. There was ample reason 
 for his troubled appearance. He had been un- 
 able to obtain the slightest inkling of the evi- 
 dence on which the grand jury had brought an 
 indictment. The cause for this was afterward 
 made obvious. As the reader already knows, 
 Squire Blowhard's testimony, corroborated by 
 that of the constable, was, per se, the causa 
 prima for the action of the above-mentioned 
 body. He had pledged all to secrecy on the 
 plea that, as Will Benson was so popular, he 
 feared personal violence at the hands oi the 
 young man's friends. This was very lame and 
 tame, but (pardon the slang) "it went." It 
 was really that he might create a sensation in 
 court and further aggrandize himself. The for- 
 mer part of his plan succeeded, though the 
 latter signally failed. So you see, Lawyer 
 Spencer's "brief" was necessarily very brief. 
 
 Will, if at all perturbed, did not show it. 
 
 He nodded pleasantly now and again to ac- 
 quaintances as he saw them in different parts of 
 the room, and, while all eyes were centered on 
 him he was, nevertheless, calm and unruffled.
 
 224 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 At sight of him the spectators, almost to a per- 
 son, were disposed in his behalf. With his firm, 
 smoothly shaven face, fearless unflinching ej'es, 
 and broad white brow from which the soft blond 
 hair was brushed heavily back, he certainly 
 looked anything but a cold-blooded criminal. 
 There had been much difficulty in empanelling a 
 jury, as so many were prejudiced in favor of the 
 prisoner. At last, however, the thing had been 
 accomplished, and now this body of men sat 
 rigidly staring at the judge, so anxious were 
 they to appear unbiased. They seemed greatly 
 impressed with the importance of their position. 
 Court was for really opened, and when the district 
 attorney arose to begin proceedings the hum of 
 voices ceased. All became attentively quiet and 
 a breathless hush seemed to fall upon that 
 gathering of people, so intense was their inter- 
 est. The first two witnesses examined were 
 Clara Mason and Miss Wilkius. They were 
 questioned as to their movements on the day and 
 evening previous to the discovery of the murder, 
 with which the reader is familiar. This was a 
 trying ordeal for Clara, who was obliged to admit 
 that a coolness had existed between her father 
 and Will on account of his attentions to her. In 
 fact, she was made to say that her father had 
 forbidden her to accept them. A number of 
 things were suggested which would have gone 
 further to show that an animus existed on the 
 part of the prisoner had she not been careful in 
 her answers. She sat down even as it was, feel- 
 ing that she had taken a share, in injuring her 
 lover's cause. Mr. Young was then called. He
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 testified as to Will's agitation and apparent 
 anger on being told the authorship of the super- 
 scription on an envelope addressed to the pris- 
 oner, and also that Will had immediately left the 
 store, rushed up the street, and entered the 
 Mason place. This envelope, the reader knows, 
 was the one that had contained the anonymous 
 letter written by Henry Mason. The witness 
 was questioned in regard to what he thought the 
 contents of the envelope may have been; but, of 
 course, there could be no satisfactory answer. 
 Will had shown the letter to Clara the day they 
 met beneath the old beech on the South Hill 
 road, and to nobody else. Bosh Warton made 
 oath that Will had passed his house on the day 
 in question, "'pearantly terrible mad, "and gone 
 into "Hen Mason's." That afterward, he had 
 seen him leaving said place by the back way, and 
 crossing the "lots" in a great hurry, bent over, 
 and " 'pearently" trying to escape notice. Also 
 a short time previous to this, on the same day, 
 when passing along the road which was inter- 
 sected by the one coming down the South Hill, 
 he had seen Will and Clara standing close to- 
 gether conversing earnestly. "Th* wimmin folks 
 was aout o' th' haouse when th' murder was 
 done," said he, "an' that goes t' show what 
 them tew was talkin' 'baout up on the road. 
 They was makin' up a kinspiracy. " He at- 
 tempted to give vent to some more of his 
 "idees, " but was told to sit down as he had said 
 all that was required. 
 
 Clara flushed with anger, but Will remained 
 utterly indifferent. As Bosh returned to his
 
 226 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 seat, a prolonged hiss went up from the crowd. 
 Lawyer Spencer objected to the latter part of 
 this testimony as having no bearing on the case. 
 The witness he said had seen merely the meeting 
 of lovers after long separation. His objection 
 was not sustained by the bench, however; his 
 honor arguing that, while the evidence referred 
 to seemed of little importance now, it might 
 have very much later on ; and it certainly had 
 enough bearing on the case to be retained. The 
 defense was nettled at this ruling, though mak- 
 ing no further remark, and the next witness was 
 called. 
 
 After the usual preliminaries of oath taking, 
 etc., Squire Blowhard, with an air of importance 
 and self-esteem peculiarly his own, proceeded, 
 as he had boasted, "to drive the last nail in the 
 doomed man's coffin." Striking an attitude he 
 began : "Never since I was first called to repre- 
 sent the majesty and dignity of the law in the 
 village of my adoption, have I, in the discharge 
 of my official duties, been placed in such an 
 embarrassing posi " 
 
 "Hold on!" cried the district attorney, "no 
 peroration is necessary. Please give the plain 
 facts which you possess connected with this 
 case and leave out all embellishment." 
 
 Red and disconcerted at this rebuke, the 
 squire began again in a much less pompous tone. 
 He and the constable had gone to the house of 
 Henry Mason by request of Clara and Miss Wil- 
 kins, had forced open the door of that upstairs 
 room, and found its occupant lying a corpse on 
 the floor in a pool of blood, while everything in
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 227 
 
 the apartment was scattered about in confusion. 
 They had found a note addressed to Clara and 
 signed by her father. Also a linen handker- 
 chief partially covered with blood having in 
 one corner a monogram of the two letters W and 
 B. The note and handkerchief were produced. 
 The former was read, and the latter examined. 
 This evidence, circumstantial though it was, 
 pointed with a damning power at the prisoner, 
 and was to be sure a complete surprise to every- 
 body. At the reading of the note Clara burst 
 into tears. She now understood why her father 
 had acted so strangely. And she was relieved to 
 know that she could think of him again as the 
 loving parent he had always seemed until the day 
 of the marriage discussion, at which time her 
 troubles began. That was the dividing line be- 
 tween sunshine and shadow. But how could he 
 have been so controlled by greed as to have lain 
 honor and manhood aside in the writing of that 
 anonymous letter, apparently defaming the char- 
 acter of his own daughter and for what? 
 Merely to remove an obstacle in the way of his 
 desires. Yet, he had asked her forgiveness, and 
 if he had only lived to have done it in person, 
 she would have been so happj' in granting it. 
 The handkerchief. At sight of it Clara's eyes 
 blurred and her head swam. It was one of a 
 half dozen she had given Will some ten months 
 prior! She could scarcely believe her senses. 
 Still, there was the monogram, unmistakably 
 her own creation. She did not swoon ; but 
 swiftly a feeling swept over her like the blight- 
 ing blast of a white-hot furnace, searing her soul
 
 228 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 and burning her faith in mankind. Thus the 
 idol of clay she had made seemed broken, shat- 
 tered, crumbled to dust. There was still, how- 
 ever, a spark of hope, and she caught at it 
 eagerly. There might be some mistake! Be- 
 fore, she had thought she could not doubt him, 
 
 now she would not. And yet 
 
 Will was astonished on learning that the 
 anonymous letter had really been written by 
 Clara's father, but when he saw the handker- 
 chief his face took on an ashen hue, and he half 
 rose from his seat. Now he knew why he had 
 been indicted, against as he had thought all 
 of the precedents of the law. He looked at 
 Clara. She avoided his glance and he knew 
 why. After standing by him so long and so 
 steadfastly this had shaken her faith at last, and 
 possibly destroyed it. With a sudden rush of 
 feeling that he was unable to control, he bowed 
 his head and wept like a child. The looks and 
 actions of W T ill and Clara were noticed and un- 
 derstood by the judge, jury, and spectators. A 
 crevice starts in a dam, small at first, but widen- 
 ing faster and faster, until the whole barrier is 
 swept away and the flood goes rolling on unin- 
 terrupted. So it is with public opinion. At 
 first there were a few whisperings which spread 
 and grew louder, until almost the whole of that 
 crowd of people felt convinced of the prisoner's 
 guilt. I said almost. There were three at least 
 who still believed firmly in his innocence; Mr. 
 and Mrs. Wilbur and Lawyer Spencer. His 
 foster-parents could not think him guilty, no 
 matter what combination of circumstances might
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 229 
 
 make it appear so; and the lawyer had been a 
 student of human nature so long in his profes- 
 sion that he seldom weighed a person's char- 
 acter with fault} 7 scales. 
 
 The constable's story was, of course, the same 
 as that told by the squire, and this ended the 
 evidence for the state. The progress of justice 
 had thus far been rapid and smooth, and when 
 court adjourned the district attorney was well 
 satisfied with the result of the first day's proceed- 
 ings. 
 
 As the cell door clanged behind Will that 
 night it seemed to him the knell of his doom. 
 He wondered how long it would be before such 
 a door would close on him for years, possibly for 
 life.
 
 230 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUES. 
 
 ON the way home from the county seat Clara 
 was silent and pale, save for a spot of hectic red 
 on either cheek. She seemed to see nothing and 
 hear nothing. Yet all the time a terrible strug- 
 gle was going on beneath that quiet exterior, 
 between love and doubt. Was this man whom 
 she had always known as a tender-hearted cham- 
 pion of the weak among men and animals the 
 heartless fiend the evidence would make it 
 appear? Was it possible that, in loving him 
 since childhood, in viewing him as the ideal of 
 upright manhood, in longing for the time when 
 she could sit opposite the big light-haired fellow 
 at their own table, she was making a long, awful 
 mistake? No! No! A thousand times no! 
 But the sworn testimony of those two men who 
 had discovered what was considered next to posi- 
 tive proof? 
 
 Had he really killed her father her father? 
 She ought to hate him. And yet she could not. 
 If he had killed her she would have died as she 
 had lived loving him. Reader, in these days of 
 "the new woman," you doubt this. Such un- 
 reasoning love, nevertheless, exists at the present 
 time, and as I remarked before, "the world is 
 better for it."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 231 
 
 "Now," thought Miss Wilkins, "Clara must 
 see the wisdom of my advice which she so stub- 
 bornly disregarded. The man she has been run- 
 ning after is proven to be the murderer of her 
 father! Poor girl. She has loved 'not wisely 
 but too well.' 
 
 That night Clara tossed about on her pillow, 
 the victim of such torture of mind as, it seemed 
 to her, could never have visited a human being 
 before. The morning light brought no relief, 
 and the birds singing outside the open window 
 mocked her misery. 
 
 On the second daj r of the trial the crowd 
 around the courthouse was larger than that of 
 the previous one. No greater number could get 
 inside, however, as its capacity had been fully 
 tested. Some had not gone, thinking it would 
 be a tame affair on account of the lack of evi- 
 dence (as they thought) against the accused. 
 But on hearing the result of the first day they 
 determined to be there on the second. Many a 
 pitying glance was cast at the handsome pris- 
 oner, who looked pale, sad, and apparently de- 
 void of hope. No one had been allowed to see 
 him in his cell the night before except his law- 
 yer, who could give him little encouragement. 
 It seemed as though his friends had all deserted 
 him. Soon after the opening of court the coun- 
 sel for the defense was told that he could proceed 
 with his part in the case. He had tried to ob- 
 tain a postponement and failed. As he arose 
 the spectators thought he was as little confident 
 of success as the prisoner himself. All eyes 
 were now fixed on him, and for a moment he
 
 232 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 stood with bowed head as in deep thought. 
 Then, apparently rousing himself, he turned and 
 scrutinized the jurymen closely. All this was 
 for effect, of course, and he felt sure that the 
 jury would be easib* susceptible to his influence 
 and power of argument. He was a rather large 
 man, cleanly shaven, sharp-e3 r ed ; past the middle 
 age, and altogether a man with a "presence." 
 However hopeless the case might be, it was evi- 
 dent to all that his was a master hand. 
 
 "Your honor," said he, in a clear, pleasant 
 voice, "we have no witnesses, as you already 
 know, and I should like now to cross-examine 
 those of the prosecution." He selected Bosh 
 Warton first. 
 
 Looking him sternly in the eye the lawyer 
 said: "I see you wear glasses." 
 
 "Ya-as," answered Bosh. 
 
 "Do you wear them all the time?" 
 
 "Ya-as. J kaint see nothin' much withaout 
 'em." 
 
 "Do you wear the same pair all the time?" 
 
 "No. I hev a pair fer readin', an' a pair fer 
 lookin' off with." 
 
 "Do I understand you to say, that you have 
 one pair of spectacles for reading, and another for 
 use when you are desirous of looking at a dis- 
 tance?" 
 
 "Ya-as, that's it." 
 
 "Do you ever forget to change them after you 
 have been reading when you go out of doors?" 
 
 "I hev sometimes fergot. " 
 
 "Suppose you had on your reading glasses, 
 how far could you see out of doors?"
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 233 
 
 "I c'udn't be sure o' nothin' fer they look 
 misty an' onsartin." 
 
 At this point, the district attorney, seeing the 
 drift of the questioning, interrupted in a vain 
 effort to divert Lawyer Spencer from his manner 
 of procedure. The latter, notwithstanding, kept 
 right on. He was accustomed to that sort of 
 thing, and never became excited except when he 
 wanted to excite others by appearing so himself. 
 
 "At the time you thought you saw my client 
 leave the house of Henry Mason, "he asked, with 
 insistent emphasis, "didn't you have on your 
 reading glasses?" 
 
 "I w'y I " 
 
 "Tell me yes or no," cried the lawyer, in a 
 sharp tone, "and don't attempt to prevaricate." 
 
 "Wa-al, yaa-s I did," blurted Bosh, "but I 
 know 'twas Will Benson, fer I seen him w'en he 
 went by afore an' spoke tew him." 
 
 "Did you receive an answer?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Of course not. The person you 
 was probably a stranger in the place, 
 chose to ignore your familiarity." 
 
 Bosh looked at the lawyer with open-mouthed 
 astonishment and anger. It now dawned upon 
 him that he was being made to appear ridiculous 
 and untruthful. Lawyer Spencer saw that he had 
 gained a slight advantage, and immediately fol- 
 lowed it up. Turning to the judge he said : 
 "Your honor, I wish to call your attention to the 
 fact that this witness has committed perjury. 
 He swore yesterday that he saw Will Benson 
 enter and leave the Mason place and now he
 
 234 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 admits that he could not be sure he saw my 
 client at all. Now, in the estimation of any sane 
 man, the statements of this person will go for 
 nothing but Bosh! He's Bosh by name and 
 bosh by nature." 
 
 The old fellow resumed his seat amid a roar of 
 laughter. 
 
 "I request this man's testimony stricken out," 
 continued Lawyer Spencer, "for, in the minds of 
 the intelligent gentlemen of the jury," with a 
 bow and wave of the hand in their direction, "he 
 has done that himself." 
 
 The district attorney again interfered, and 
 protested that such conduct on the part of the 
 defense was an insult to both the court and him- 
 self. After a moment's reflection, however, the 
 judge ordered this part of the evidence blotted 
 off. Mr. Young was the next to undergo the or- 
 deal, and while he had been a reluctant witness, 
 he was naturally averse to having his veracity 
 questioned. He also wore "specs," and was 
 made to admit that he hadn't them on when 
 shown the envelope on which was the writing as 
 he had said of Henry Mason. He had seen the 
 prisoner go up the street toward the house in 
 question, but under the fire of cross-examina- 
 tion he was forced to allow that it might have 
 been another person whom he saw enter the gate. 
 His testimony was not ruled off, the judge fear- 
 ing that at this rate the state's evidence might 
 soon be nil. Only two questions were asked 
 Peterson, the constable, to wit: "Did you see all 
 the movements of Squire Blowhard while in the 
 room where the murdered man lay?" and "Did
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 235 
 
 you see the squire wipe his face with a handker- 
 chief while in that room?" To the former ques- 
 tion the answer was "No," and to the latter 
 "Yes." 
 
 By this time the district attorney was in a 
 state bordering on madness. He had thought 
 himself very astute, but he was being out-gen- 
 eraled at every point. The lawyer for the 
 defense was calmly and quietly knocking his evi- 
 dence to pieces, while he raved and objected 
 until the judge was obliged to reprimand him 
 for his contempt of court. At every question he 
 was on his feet, but when he saw it was of no use 
 he at last subsided. Now came the turn of the 
 squire. Lawyer Spencer looked at him under 
 his brows in a comically serious manner, and 
 said: 
 
 "So you represent the 'majesty and dignity' 
 of the law in the village of H ?" 
 
 "I do," answered the squire, flushing hotly at 
 the sarcastic tone in which the question was 
 asked. 
 
 "What is your full name?" 
 
 "Watson Bio whard." 
 
 "A very fitting name indeed," said the lawyer, 
 reflectively, and without a smile. This brought 
 a roar from the spectators and increased the 
 squire's choler. 
 
 "Do you use handkerchiefs having your ini- 
 tials upon them?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "On the day you and the constable entered the 
 murdered man's room, had you one of them in 
 your pocket?"
 
 238 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you use it while in that room?" 
 
 After a moment's thought, "yes." 
 
 "Do you remember using it again that day?" 
 
 "I don't remember." 
 
 "You have answered my questions very nicely 
 and very properly," said the lawyer, smiling, 
 "and I have just one more to ask. Did you say 
 just before the trial began that you would 'drive 
 the last nail in the doomed man's coffin?' ' 
 
 The squire turned from red to purple in his 
 rage, and his rotundity seemed about to burst. 
 
 "You have no right to ask me such a question, 
 he shouted, waving his hand majestically. 
 "You deliberately insult me before this con- 
 course of people, among whom are most of my 
 constituents. I have never been so humiliated 
 and made so light of since I first began my legal 
 career." He was "warming up to his subject," 
 and there was no telling how soon he would stop. 
 "You have hurled vindictive sarcasm at my 
 head, and you have " 
 
 "Stop, squire, stop," said Lawyer Spencer 
 softly, and the irate man halted to gasp for 
 breath, while he glared savagely at his unmoved 
 tormentor. Before he had recovered his "wind," 
 Lawyer Spencer said, in the apologetic tone of 
 an advising friend: "I had no intention of in- 
 sulting you or injuring your dignity; but allow 
 me to say in all kindness, Watson don't Blow-so- 
 hard." When the merriment of the crowd sub- 
 sided the squire was observed gnashing his teeth 
 and trying to evade the curious glances cast in
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 23? 
 
 his direction. As soon as quiet was restored 
 Lawyer Spencer began to speak : 
 
 "Tour honor, and the gentlemen of the jury : 
 You have heard what has been said by the wit- 
 nesses for the state in answer to my questions, 
 and you have heard the admissions they have 
 made. I hope you will weigh these things well. 
 Both Bosh Warton and Alfred Young have shown 
 conclusively that their testimony of yesterday is 
 valueless as evidence. They have shown that in 
 swearing to something of which they were not 
 sure, they exhibited either willful intent to in- 
 jure my client, or a childlike ignorance of the 
 solemn nature of an oath. Watson Blowhard has 
 stated that while examining the room in which 
 the tragedy occurred he used a handkerchief 
 having his initials embroidered upon it, and, 
 bear in mind they are W. B. Considering his 
 excitable nature, and the awful sight so unex- 
 pectedly revealed to his startled vision, what is 
 more reasonable to suppose than that he 
 dropped the handkerchief on the floor, which 
 was covered with blood, and when he found it 
 again, forgot in his agitation that it belonged to 
 himself? And, too, he does not remember hav- 
 ing used his handkerchief again that day. The 
 note found in the room is of no account as evi- 
 dence against my client, but rather of much im- 
 portance in his favor. Had he have gone even 
 in anger and seen Henry Mason, as was at first 
 made to appear, a satisfactory understanding 
 between them would have been arrived at, and 
 consent would have been given to the plans of the 
 lovers. This is made sufficiently evident by the
 
 238 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 tone of Henry Mason's plea to his daughter for 
 forgiveness." The applause now became so 
 great that he was obliged to stop until the crowd 
 could be made to desist. The masterly manner 
 in which he was conducting the case, together 
 with his calm logic and cool demeanor, had taken 
 the spectators by storm. His keen eye noted the 
 effect on the jury with satisfaction.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 THE TRIAL ENDS. 
 
 How easy it often is, by a little reasoning prop- 
 erly applied, to alter the whole complexion of a 
 case. At the adjournment of court the night 
 previous all had looked dark and hopeless for 
 the prisoner ; but now it seemed to this easily- 
 moved assemblage that his release was certain. 
 The witnesses for the prosecution had sworn to 
 the absolute truth, and yet it now appeared 
 almost the contrary. The district attorney was 
 thinking very hard, and that which Lawyer 
 Spencer most feared was the subject of his 
 thoughts. He was angry at the way he had been 
 ignored, and he determined to get even with the 
 opposing counsel at the first opportunity. It 
 was coming, and a smile overspread his face as 
 the defense proceeded, the plaudits of the specta- 
 tors having at last ceased "Aslwas saying when 
 interrupted, the note in question shows that all 
 animosity which may have existed between these 
 two men would have been removed had they met, 
 and the only conclusion to arrive at is that they 
 did not meet. Consequently, my client is not 
 and could not be guilty. So much for the note 
 as evidence. The appearance of the room, as 
 described by those who have testified here, would
 
 240 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 indicate that robbery was the only motive for 
 the crime. Now do you suppose that my client 
 would have gone to that house at night, killed 
 and robbed that respected citizen of his own 
 town, and then returned to his home a short dis- 
 tance away, slept soundly, went to the field the 
 next morning, and refused to run when notified 
 by a friend that he was suspected ? Most em- 
 phatically no! When some of his overzealous 
 friends had made the way clear for his escape 
 from the jail did he embrace the opportunity 
 thus presented to obtain freedom? He did not! 
 Would a guilty man have given the answer that 
 he gave to his would-be liberators? I will tell 
 you what he said, and leave it to j r our own rea- 
 son and judgment. It was this in substance: 
 'I am an innocent man and have no fear of the 
 law. Let it take its course. ' My client has been 
 known by many of the people now present since 
 his earliest childhood, and I think they can 
 vouch for my statement when I say that his life 
 has been a most exemplary one. His parents 
 both died when he was still too young to under- 
 stand his loss, but their places have been effect- 
 ually filled by the worthy couple who are at the 
 present moment sitting near their adopted SOD. 
 The precepts and principles which they instilled 
 into his young mind bore such good fruit that, 
 until this black shadow was cast upon his un- 
 blemished character, all who knew him were 
 proud to be known as his friends. I have known 
 him for a considerable time myself, and 1 must 
 say, speaking candidly and without prejudice, 
 that he is positively the soul of honor. From
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 241 
 
 the moment he entered my office to begin the 
 study of law his interest has never flagged. In 
 fact, he has been so assiduous and attentive that 
 I have predicted his admission to the bar much 
 earlier than is usual. My interest in this case 
 is not a monetary one, and neither am I seeking 
 fame. My young friend was not abundantly 
 supplied with means to retain proper counsel, 
 and knowing this, I have given my services be- 
 cause of the esteem I have for him, and the dis- 
 interested desire I have for his welfare. Your 
 honor, and the gentlemen of the jury, I have 
 faith in the soundness of j-our judgment, and I 
 believe that after careful deliberation you will 
 see, as I do, the innocence of my client. The 
 question now presents itself to our minds in 
 regard to the tragedy- who could have done it? 
 In my opinion, it was no one that lived in the 
 community or in the county. Henry Mason was 
 known by his neighbors to be an exceedingly 
 eccentric man. And from what I have been able 
 to learn, there was some mystery connected with 
 his life previous to his coming to H . He 
 used to make occasional visits to Albany for the 
 purpose of secretly meeting a man who came up 
 from New York, and I believe the crime can yet 
 be traced to this man or a hired accomplice 
 probably the latter. My belief is, that the man 
 
 found in hiding beneath the church in H is 
 
 the murderer. I said a few minutes ago that 
 from the indications, robbery was apparently the 
 only motive for the crime. I don't think so 
 now, however; it was probably an after thought. 
 Thinking it an easy matter to elude the residents
 
 242 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 of H , unaccustomed as they are to dealing 
 
 with matters of this kind, he has remained and 
 committed the thefts which have since kept the 
 people in anxious apprehension of a repetition of 
 his first crime. Efforts have been made to un- 
 earth him, but so far they have been unsuc- 
 cessful. " 
 
 The speaker paused, and the district attorney 
 who had tried several times to make himself 
 heard, now sprang to his feet and said hurriedly: 
 
 "Your honor, I request that one of Squire 
 Blowhard's handkerchiefs be compared with the 
 one in evidence." 
 
 This was what Lawyer Spencer had been ex- 
 pecting. All the evidence against the prisoner 
 was, of course, unknown to him before the trial 
 began, and he had been obliged to la> his plans 
 and arrange his defense after hearing it. The 
 only thing in the testimony that had troubled 
 him was the matter of the handkerchief. If a 
 comparison were made, it might prove disas- 
 trous. But he could only depend on his quick 
 wit and tact, after seeing how nearly the mono- 
 grams were alike. The two pieces of linen were 
 then spread out side by side, and, while they 
 were both of the same size, the monograms were 
 entirely different in design and proportion. The 
 stillness of death reigned over that crowded 
 courtroom as the two handkerchiefs were being 
 scrutinized. Every nerve was strained to the 
 highest tension, and all sat breathlessly awaiting 
 the result of the examination. When it came a 
 sound went up from those sympathetic people,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 243 
 
 like an agonized groan. Now, what could they 
 think? 
 
 It seemed to them, before this last thunderbolt 
 had fallen, that the accused man must soon be 
 acquitted, and they were ready to bear him away 
 on their shoulders in triumph as soon as the word 
 was spoken that made him free. But now the 
 cloud which had been swept almost away was 
 closing in as threatening as ever. 
 
 Lawyer Spencer made no comment, but kept 
 quietly thinking, while the district attorney en- 
 joyed his short-lived victory. The latter went 
 on to say : "The accused must have been in that 
 room, for it is now proven beyond peradventure 
 that the handkerchief found there belonged to 
 him and not to Squire Blowhard, as his eminent 
 counsel tried to make us believe." 
 
 His tone was ironical, and his air that of a 
 conqueror. "The counsel for the defense," said 
 he, "has tried by the use of a line of reasoning 
 common to pettifoggers to destroy the evidence 
 of witnesses who have conscientiously sworn to 
 the truth, and, by chance, has partially gained 
 a semblance of success. "When the eyesight of 
 a witness is called into question it makes an 
 opening for just such an argument as this we 
 have listened to, and gives an unscrupulous 
 cross-examiner opportunity to make the person 
 questioned almost believe he cannot see at all. 
 As to the handkerchief, we are not obliged to de- 
 pend upon the optical abilities of any but our- 
 selves, and, without the least doubt, it belongs 
 to the prisoner. This evidence, though circum- 
 stantial, 1 consider fully equal to positive
 
 244 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 proof." He paused to clear his throat, and, as 
 he resumed a shout was heard in the street. 
 From the bench, the judge, looking over the 
 people's heads through the open door, saw two 
 men half-carrying, half-dragging a third up the 
 courthouse steps. The magistrate requested the 
 district attorney to stop speaking until some ex- 
 planation was made by these men, for they were 
 now crowding their way toward the front. The 
 man being so unceremoniously forced into court 
 was our old acquaintance of the quarry. Wild- 
 eyed and not yet entirely sober, he was making 
 desperate efforts to break loose from the firm 
 grasp of Pete Smith and Zeb White. It may 
 seem strange that these two had not gone to the 
 trial that morning. The reasons were as follows : 
 Smith had a field of rye that was so ripe it was 
 "shelling" badly. After debating the matter 
 with himself, he decided it would "pay" him 
 better to stay home and cut it at once; and, by 
 promising doable pay, he had induced Zeb to 
 help. Mr. Clark had found it difficult to per- 
 suade him to leave his work, though, on hearing 
 Walter's story he consented readily enough. 
 Smith and Zeb were both strong men, and they 
 quickly hauled the man out of the quarry and 
 with all possible dispatch hauled him before the 
 judge as we have seen. With a bob of the head 
 intended for a bow, Smith remarked, inclining 
 his thumb, "Here he is, jedge, an' gol blast his 
 drunken carcass, I'd a hed my rye all cut ef it 
 hedn't b'en fer him." 
 
 Lawyer Spencer was up at once. "That's the 
 man we've been looking for!" he exclaimed.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 245 
 
 "Do you believe lie is the murderer?" asked 
 the judge. 
 
 "Yes," answered the lawyer emphatically. 
 
 "Have you any evidence against him?" 
 
 "No, but we can get that now that we have 
 him." 
 
 His honor ordered the new suspect taken in 
 charge, and requested Smith to relate the cir- 
 cumstances connected with the capture, and as 
 much as he knew, or had found out, in regard to 
 the man. 
 
 "Wa-al, jedge,"said Smith, in a familiar tone, 
 ignoring the fact that he stood within the radi- 
 ance of the halo surrounding the judicial bench, 
 "I'll tell y'u jest haow it cum. Me ail' Zeb 
 here wus in th' rye-lot cradlin' away like sixty 
 Zeb's kinder lazy y'u know, an' I haft' go b'hind 
 an' kinder clip his heel wunst in awhile t' keep 
 him up an' w'en we got t' th' wall on th' nigh 
 side o' th' lot next th' road, an' I hed stopped 
 t' sharpen up one time, I looked daown a piece 
 an' seen Dominie Clark a cummin' lickety split, 
 es ef sumpin wus wrong t' hum, an' I ses t' Zeb, 
 
 ses I " Here another interruption occurred, 
 
 in the shape of a rather stout elderly gentleman 
 with a "pepper-and-salt" mustache, who was 
 pushing his way through the crowd and shout- 
 ing at the judge to stop the trial! 
 
 "Who are you," thundered the court, "and 
 what do you mean by such unseemly conduct?" 
 
 "I crave pardon, your honor," said the latest 
 arrival on regaining his breath, "for my appar- 
 ent lack of respect. But the matter is urgent 
 and I see that I have arrived none too soon. An
 
 246 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 innocent man is being tried for murder, and I 
 believe my testimonj r will be of use in freeing 
 him from suspicion." As he said this his 
 glance fell upon the man just taken into custody. 
 He started, gazed steadfastly for a moment, and 
 then cried out, while hi", index finger seemed 
 eager to pierce the cowering wretch at whom it 
 was pointed: "That is the man that killed Henry 
 Mason! So," he went on, addressing the now 
 sober and thoroughly frightened criminal, "yon 
 have executed your bloodthirsty threat at last!" 
 Turning again to the judge, he said: "I shall 
 have the satisfaction not only of freeing an inno- 
 cent man but of avenging the death of my dear- 
 est friend." 
 
 This unexpected phase of affairs astonished 
 everybody, and even the judge so far forgot his 
 dignity as to stare at the newcomer with open 
 mouth and dilated eyes. Only two people in the 
 room had the slightest idea of who this man was. 
 Clara and Miss Wilkins were sure he must be the 
 New York banker, Wentworth Proctor. He was 
 a handsome, hearty, well-groomed gentleman, 
 and Clara liked him at once. Clara's mind had 
 been in such a chaotic state that it seemed to her 
 she must soon go insane. But now she began to 
 experience a slight sense of relief, for at last a 
 gleam of hope had appeared. On the acqui- 
 escence of the judge, Mr. Proctor for he it was 
 proceeded to tell what he knew of the man he 
 had accused, first insisting on taking the oath. 
 I will repeat the account he gave in his own 
 words. 
 
 "When Henry Mason was living in New York
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 247 
 
 he operated quite extensively in Wall Street, and 
 it was through his advice and assistance that I 
 gained my first foothold in the banking business. 
 One of the acquaintances of both he and I was 
 Harold Hayden, who also did some speculating 
 in the Street. Mason gave him a tip one day, 
 and \vas so confident himself, that he plunged 
 heavily on the stock and lost the greater part of 
 his own fortune, while Hayden lost all. In the 
 morning he was affluent, and before evening he 
 was amost penniless. Enraged and crazed at the 
 thought of his suddenly altered condition, he 
 hunted out Mason at his club, and accused him 
 of being the cause. A war of words followed, 
 and soon Hayden, a raving maniac, armed with 
 a knife, was chasing Mason around the room. 
 Grasping a heavy chair, Mason struck him a blow 
 on the head that felled him to the floor. On 
 examination it was found that his skull had been 
 fractured, and he died soon afterward. Mason, 
 of course, was arrested, but the trial resulted in 
 a verdict of justifiable homicide. Hayden had a 
 son named George, who, as the only child of a 
 wealthy man, was petted and spoiled, growing 
 up to be a worthless scamp. His time was spent 
 in drinking, gambling, and following various 
 forms of sensual vice. His foolish and over- 
 indulgent father kept him supplied with money 
 which he considered of no use except in the at- 
 tainment of so-called pleasure. According to his 
 way of looking at it, Henry Mason had deprived 
 him of a father and what seemed to be of more 
 importance a fortune. He made a solemn vow 
 that he would avenge his father's death; and the
 
 248 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 oath was of such a nature that there was no 
 doubt of his intention to fulfill it. On being 
 notified of this and advised to do so Mason left 
 the city at once and no one knew where he had 
 gone except myself. I met him afterward in 
 Albany, secretly, and at long intervals. How his 
 retreat was discovered is best known by his mur- 
 dererGeorge Hay den!" As he uttered the last 
 words his finger was again pointed at the man he 
 accused. Such shouting and hurrahing had 
 never resounded from the walls of that old court- 
 house before and it seemed impossible to quiet 
 the people. After the din of voices, clapping 
 of hands and stamping of feet had finally ceased 
 the district attorney was the first to speak: 
 
 "Your honor we have heard this man's story," 
 said he, "but what about the monogram?" 
 
 "Wait," laconically answered the judge. 
 Then, fixing his gaze upon the newly accused 
 man, he asked: "George Hayden, what have you 
 to say?" 
 
 Cornered at last, still weak and sick from in- 
 toxication, and filled with fear, the hardened 
 criminal broke down and confessed all, thinking 
 too that by penitence clemency might be gained. 
 
 So with much weeping and many protestations 
 of sorrow at his sinful career he told his story, 
 which in substance was as follows: As Mr. 
 Proctor had stated he had made an oath to kill 
 Henry Mason, but on being unable to locate him 
 after his departure from New York, he (Hayden) 
 had continued in the rapid descent of crime, 
 partially forgetting his vow. Tiring of his old 
 haunts, he had decided to change base, and then
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 249 
 
 he thought of Henry Mason. By spying the 
 movements of Wentworth Proctor, he learned 
 that that gentleman went sometimes to Albany, 
 and thereupon he migrated forthwith to the 
 city named. His "business" could be carried 
 on there with as much success as anywhere else, 
 so he determined to stay and follow up the clew, 
 which eventually led to the village and the resi- 
 dence of his intended victim. He had made no 
 plans until after looking over the ground. The 
 vacant space beneath the church had seemed to 
 be the safest hiding-place; but on scouring the 
 surrounding country he had found the quarry, 
 and used it also. On the night the deed was 
 committed he had gone to the house just after 
 dark, having seen the two women leaving in the 
 afternoon. Entering by the kitchen door, he 
 had explored the lower rooms and found them 
 empty. But on opening a door at the top of the 
 stairs, he saw before him in a chair asleep the 
 man he had come to kill! As the light from the 
 would-be assassin's "bull's-eye" struck the 
 sleeper's face he awoke with a stare of fright. 
 The long keen knife was ready, however, and 
 before he could move or cry out his life was 
 gone! After locking the door by turning the 
 key inside the murderer had ransacked the 
 room, and, according to his story, found little of 
 value to him. This was afterward believed to be 
 true, for nothing of much account could be found 
 in the quarry when a search was made except a 
 little money in a niche of the rock which might 
 have been taken from the store. Some of Henry 
 Mason's clothing was found there, and Miss Wil-
 
 250 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 kins insisted that the murderer-thief must have 
 taken some jewelry, for when Mrs. Mason was 
 alive she had possessed some that was very val- 
 uable, and which Miss Wilkins believed Mr. 
 Mason had retained. 
 
 In regard to the blood-stained handkerchief, 
 he said that, when entering the gate, it had 
 caught on his foot, and, noticing it, he put it in 
 his pocket. As he did so, he felt the raised 
 monogram. When about to leave the room by 
 the back window he thought of the handker- 
 chief, and paused to examine it. Seing the 
 chance to divert suspicion, he took advantage of 
 it by dropping the telltale piece of linen upon 
 the floor. It will be remembered that Will Ben- 
 son was at the house on the afternoon previous 
 to the murder, and then, without knowing it, he 
 had dropped the handkerchief. 
 
 When George Hayden had finished his confes- 
 sion the judge arose and said: "The unexpected 
 and astonishing revelations that have just been 
 made seem to have come as a Divine interference 
 in behalf of an innocent man, against whom cir- 
 cumstances had most stubbornly combined. 
 This is a valuable lesson, in showing that, how- 
 ever strong circumstantial evidence may be, 
 there is always a considerable doubt in favor of 
 the accused." 
 
 Addressing the jury he asked: "Are you now 
 satisfied of W T ill Benson's innocence?" 
 
 With one accord they answered "Yes." 
 
 "Such being the case," he resumed, "I now 
 with heartfelt pleasure declare Will Benson dis- 
 charged and court adjourned."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 251 
 
 This was the signal for a cheer in which it 
 seemed every throat must have joined. A num- 
 ber of Will's friends attempted to carry him out 
 en pageant, but he broke away from them, and 
 springing to his sweetheart's side, strained her 
 to his breast, while she relieved her pent-up 
 feelings in a flood of tears. Now those cheeks 
 would regain their color, those eyes their 
 sparkle, and that step its spring.
 
 252 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 "IT'S THE MONEY! IT'S THE MONEY!" 
 
 ME. WILBUR'S horses drew home a happy load 
 that evening from the county seat. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Wilbur, Mr. Proctor, Miss Wilkins, Clara 
 and Will, made an over-sufficient number for a 
 wagon with only two seats, but they had no ob- 
 jections to the crowding, and the horses were 
 large and strong. They went first to see W T alter 
 Hart. Between kis mother and the family phy- 
 sician, with the help of a "good square meal," 
 he was lying quite comfortably in bed, although 
 by no means free from pain. They caressed and 
 praised him so much that the poor fellow was 
 thrown into a state of violent confusion. He was 
 made to repeat the story of his adventure in mi- 
 nutce, that they might not lose the slightest de- 
 tail. "The bull is the fellow to be praised," 
 said Walter, "for had he not hustled me over the 
 wall as he did the murderer might never have 
 been caught. You ought to get some golden tips 
 and pink ribbons for his horns, Clara; Bosh 
 Warton, no doubt, would help you put them on." 
 
 "I should like to" answered Clara, "though I 
 think Bosh Warton cares for no closer acquaint- 
 ance with the vicious fellow than he already has.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 253 
 
 Just to think of it!" she went on, "nearly a 
 whole week in the hands of a murderer!" Then, 
 with a mischievous smile, she said: "We must 
 try to overcome Violet's shyness, and I shall 
 begin to-morrow. She will want to know how 
 you're feeling after such an ordeal as you have 
 passed through, and I'll bring her over to see 
 you." 
 
 Walter reddened and made no remark, yet 
 secretly he was pleased. Mrs. Hart arranged 
 them a nice supper, which all enjoyed, especially 
 the banker, who declared it to be better than any 
 he could have gotten in the city. (This, of 
 course, requires a grain of salt.) He was as un- 
 conventional and vivacious as a boy. His repar- 
 tee kept them in roars of laughter, and, in fact, 
 he was surprised at himself; being usually 
 reserved and little alive to anything but busi- 
 ness. The brusque, dignified man of wealth was 
 lost in the jovial, unassuming person he now 
 appeared. And the relaxation and freedom from 
 restraint gave him a new pleasure. As the even- 
 ing progressed he found an opportunity to speak 
 with Miss Wilkins at one side. He said her let- 
 ter had not reached him, or rather he it, until 
 the first day, as he had learned, of Will Benson's 
 trial. He had gone away, and having left orders 
 that letters not of a business nature should be 
 placed in his desk, had found it there on his re- 
 turn several days after its arrival. This was the 
 second letter Miss Wilkius had written; but the 
 first one, as we know, was lost by the boy whom 
 she had intrusted to mail it. Mr. Proctor had 
 not noticed the account of his friend's murder in
 
 254 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 the papers, for he seldom read more than the 
 editorials and stock quotations. Extremely 
 shocked at the awful news, he had started as soon 
 as possible, feeling certain that he knew who 
 was the perpetrator of the deed. 
 
 "I presume Clara received the letter and pack- 
 age of money I sent to her father?" casually 
 asked Mr. Proctor, and then before Miss "Wilkins 
 could reply, he smiled and said: "Poor Henry. 
 He had some strange notions. That letter must 
 have been interesting reading for Clara. I men- 
 tioned in it something about coming up. I had 
 heard that George Hayden was killed in a 
 drunken brawl, and was waiting for a confirma- 
 tion of the report before I dared start. Henry 
 always had a haunting fear of death at the hands 
 of that man and it seems there was good grounds 
 for it. Did you say the money came all right?" 
 
 Miss Wilkins flushed and hesitated. Should 
 she tell him what became of it? After a little 
 struggle she said: "Clara got the letter and par- 
 cel from the post office at the same time, and 
 while she was reading the letter the parcel fell 
 to the floor. I was gathering up some papers, 
 and must have put that along with them into the 
 stove." 
 
 "What!" cried he, "you burned up five thou- 
 sand dollars?" 
 
 W 7 ith crimson cheeks she answered: "We knew 
 of no other way to account for its loss." 
 
 "Well! well!" said he, noticing her confusion, 
 "it was my fault for sending it in such a careless 
 way. I'll make it good." 
 
 "No, indeed, you'll not," with an offended
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 255 
 
 flash of the eyes, "I have a little money of my 
 own." 
 
 For fear of exciting comment as to her appear- 
 ance, Miss Wilkins moved quickly away, and soon 
 left the room. 
 
 "Hum!" said the comfortable banker to him- 
 self, "Hum!" "Blushes like a schoolgirl. 
 About forty I should think not much more any- 
 how mighty nice woman very refined very 
 pleasant manner hum I must think it over. " 
 
 It was very late when they left the Hart farm- 
 house, and all were in excellent spirits. Clara 
 and Miss Wilkins were deposited at their own 
 gate, and Mr. Proctor rode on with Will and his 
 foster-parents. He spent several days at the 
 Wilburs', making, in the meantime little excur- 
 sions about the country, often accompanied by 
 Miss Wilkins, whom he insisted should go to 
 point out the places of interest. This was a new 
 experience for her, and she enjoyed it very much, 
 Mr. Proctor having engaged a spirited horse and 
 "top-buggy" for their use. 
 
 She little thought he had an object other than 
 the pleasure of the moment. She was a comely 
 woman, and an enjoyable companion, both of 
 which qualities Mr. Proctor carefully noted. 
 
 On the day following Mr. Proctor's departure 
 for the city, Miss Wilkins and Clara were sitting 
 in the large "front" room of the house "talking 
 over" the events of the last few months, and 
 commenting favorably upon the pleasing appear- 
 ance and agreeable manner of this their newly- 
 made acquaintance. The afternoon sun was 
 slanting in at the street windows, and through
 
 256 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 the open ones at the side a soft breeze came, 
 stirring the nasturtium vines, agitating the lace 
 curtains, and cooling the otherwise heated air. 
 Tom, the cat, and "Shag" (short for "Shaggy"), 
 the little dog that had come to Miss Wilkins in 
 the rainstorm, were rolling about the floor, now 
 on the best of terms. Among the plain substan- 
 tial furnishings of the room was a small square 
 piano with a tone both sweet and surprisingly 
 powerful. In her rollicking moods Clara had 
 often played upon it, as her father had said, "fit 
 to loosen the ceiling." Miss Wilkins, herself a 
 woman of accomplishments, had taught Clara 
 music, of which the latter was exceedingly fond. 
 As Clara's glance fell upon the instrument when 
 the conversation had begun to lag, her eyes 
 brightened. She had not touched it in months. 
 Not since the day her father had expressed his 
 desire for her to marry the man that she now 
 knew would have really wished no such thing. 
 She turned back the cover, and ran her fingers 
 gently and affectionately over the keys, while 
 her thoughts reverted to the happy evenings 
 long ago (it seemed long to her), when she had 
 played accompaniments to the violin of the tall 
 bashful boy just learning easy tunes. Beside the 
 piano was a small stand piled high with music, 
 and from the top Clara selected a song which she 
 
 had bought one day in M , a little before 
 
 the time our story opened. The air of it, though 
 simple, was sweet, and the sentiment Clara might 
 have dictated herself. 
 
 The first stanza ran thus:
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 " Shall I tell you whom I love? 
 Harken then awhile to me. 
 Such a man may surely move, 
 Every maiden fancy free." 
 
 Clara sang it all through, aud, turning quickly 
 with a smile of her old time pertness, said : 
 
 "I will alter the question a little. Will you 
 tell me whom you love?" 
 
 "Clara Mason, you're entirely too impudent! ' 
 returned Miss Wilkins blushing and settling fur- 
 ther down behind the M Gazette, in which 
 
 was a continued story she had begun to read. 
 
 Clara turned again to the piano, but she had 
 not struck more than half a dozen notes when a 
 loud yelping was heard in the region of the 
 woodshed. Miss Wilkins laid down her paper 
 and asked: "I wonder what's the matter with 
 Shag?" 
 
 Clara stopped playing and both went to in- 
 vestigate. The ground space of the woodshed 
 was less than half-covered by a loose board floor- 
 ing resting on scantlings, which in turn were 
 raised above the soft moist mold by small blocks 
 of stone placed here and there in irregular order. 
 "Shag" was under this floor, and something it 
 seemed was holding him fast. Locating the ex- 
 act spot from whence the yelping and whining 
 proceeded, Clara quickly tore up the boards, and 
 there was the little dog unable to move. He had 
 been digging around one of those stone sup- 
 ports, which, being thus loosened, fell over and 
 pinned his tail to the ground. Clara released 
 him, and he expressed his gratitude after the 
 zuost approved manner of his race. She was
 
 258 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 about to replace the boards, when, noticing 
 something bright sticking up from the earth, 
 she pulled out a tablespoon. "With this she 
 scraped around a little, and unearthed a tortoise- 
 shell back comb, a silver thimble, a napkin-ring, 
 and a pair of scissors, all of which articles Miss 
 "Wilkins had long since mourned as lost. 
 
 "Did you ever see the like of that?" exclaimed 
 the last named lady; "that mischievous dog 
 ought to be whipped. " 
 
 "I'll take another look," said Clara, and, get- 
 ting down on her knees, she glanced about under 
 the floor. A little to one side, and just out of 
 arm's reach, she saw a small paper parcel. "With 
 a stick she moved it over and with it in her hands 
 arose to her feet. She gazed at it an instant, 
 while her eyes grew large and her face depicted 
 the height of astonishment. "For heaven sake!" 
 she cried. 
 
 "Why what's the matter" asked Miss "Wilkins 
 in fright. 
 
 "It's the money ! It's the money!" andClara 
 set Miss Wilkins into a throe of agony by step- 
 ping upon the latter's pet corn as she rushed 
 past into the kitchen. Miss Wilkins soon 
 recovered, however, and limped in asking : 
 
 "What money, Clara?" 
 
 "Why, the five thousand dollars, you stupid!" 
 
 In her glee Clara waltzed around the room, 
 and Miss Wilkins feasted her eyes on the bright 
 new notes now spread out upon the table. She 
 seemed dumfounded and speechless, but at last 
 she exclaimed : "Oh! Clara! Isn't it good?" 
 
 The canine youngster had seized the package
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 259 
 
 as .soon as Clara had dropped it on the day it 
 came and carried it to his cache. 
 
 And it was well that he had. For otherwise it 
 might have been destroyed as they had all along 
 thought it was. 
 
 When Will called that evening Clara was ready 
 to surprise him with the news of her good for- 
 tune. She noticed that he was looking very 
 grave, and asked him, laughingly, why he was 
 so "blue." 
 
 "That is just the way I feel, Clara," said he, 
 "you don't care to marry a man who is penni- 
 less, I am sure. And it will be a long time 
 before I have any money again. What little I 
 had has been spent, and Father Wilbur is greatly 
 embarrassed himself. The season has been so 
 dry that his crops are nearly ruined; not alone 
 from that, but from lack of attention as well. 
 He has given so much of his time to my inter- 
 ests that he has been obliged to neglect the 
 farm. The mortgage will surely be foreclosed, 
 and we'll be without a home." As he looked up 
 from the floor, at which he had been staring 
 dejectedly, Clara burst into a peal of laughter. 
 "How can you?" asked he, in a tone of sur- 
 prise and reproach. 
 
 "Why don't you marry a girl with money?" 
 said she, her eyes dancing with mischief. An 
 angry flush overspread his face. 
 
 "I expected sympathy from you, at least. 
 But if you can only make sport of my misfor- 
 tune I had better go." He was in a petulant 
 mood, and who would not have been under the 
 same circumstances? He had half-arisen from
 
 260 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 his chair, when, with a hand on either shoulder, 
 she pressed him down again, and said : 
 
 "Now, don't be angry, Will; after I have ex- 
 plained you'll understand why I seemed so re- 
 gardless of your feelings." Her imperative 
 beauty and charming vivacity disarmed him so 
 completely that he fell back smiling against his 
 will. 
 
 "You know father died a poor man?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Will. 
 
 "Then, if you need money so very badly, 
 marrj' somebody else who has it." 
 
 He struggled to rise, but her strong young 
 arms held him firmly. With eyes flashing indig- 
 nation he asked: "Why are you so silly? I 
 don't want to get money that way, and I'll marry 
 no one but you. I shall not marry without a 
 cent in my pocket, and it discourages me when I 
 think how long we must wait. You don't seem to 
 care, so 1 suppose I ought not to." 
 
 Now she was satisfied. She had teased him 
 enough. Going behind his chair, she placed a 
 hand on either side of his face, drew back his 
 head, and kissed him squarely on the lips. 
 When he had brightened up a bit, as, of course, 
 he naturally would after such affectionate treat- 
 ment, she sat down in a chair facing him, and 
 said: "I have a plan which I think will remove 
 all difficulties. Then she told him of the money, 
 how it was lost and found, and ended by saying: 
 "We need not delay being married on account 
 of your lack of funds, for, as soon as we are, I 
 shall give you the five thousand dollars to do 
 with as you please."
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 261 
 
 "What!" cried he, "do you think I would 
 agree to that?" 
 
 "And why not? Think how foolish it would 
 be for me to mope here, and you to mope some- 
 where else, all because I have money and you 
 have none." 
 
 This was convincing argument, and as Will 
 paced up and down the room he was half-inclined 
 to assent. Yet his pride would not give way. 
 Between this happy solution of the problem on 
 one side, and the thought of public opinion on 
 the other, he was greatly agitated. 
 
 "What will people say?" he asked. 
 
 "You have seen that it's a matter of indiffer- 
 ence to me what they say, and it ought to be to 
 you when I am concerned; for I did what few 
 girls would have done in my position." 
 
 "True enough, Clara, but I'm not thinking of 
 myself so much as you. They have gossiped 
 enough about you already, and I don't want to 
 set their tongues going again. They know I 
 have nothing, and if we were married now they 
 would say you bought me." 
 
 With a glance at him of mingled pain and 
 anger, she also arose to her feet and said in a 
 frigid tone : "Yes, it seems so to you, I presume. 
 I fear I am guided too much by feeling and not 
 enough by propriety. Certain it is that I have 
 humiliated myself fur too much already. We 
 had better dismiss the subject and each go our 
 own way." 
 
 She stood with a queenly air, as though 
 nothing remained but for him to leave. He 
 stopped in his walk, looked at her, and then
 
 .263 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 going over, took her reluctant hands in his, 
 while he said in the most reverential voice: 
 "Clara, forgive me. I am not worthy of your 
 unselfish offer, although I thought only of the 
 sacrifice you were making. Other girls would 
 first consider how their actions would appear to 
 those unable to understand their motives, and, 
 for the moment, I forgot the difference between 
 you and them. My greatest desire is to make 
 you my own, and any condition you may name 
 except that of taking the money I shall be only 
 too happy in accepting. Invest the money as 
 you choose, but don't make me feel that I am 
 taking advantage of your trust." 
 
 Clara now saw the honorable principle by 
 which he was swayed, and which would not allow 
 even the shadow of a possible misunderstanding. 
 How could she overcome his scruples? In what 
 way could she satisfy his, as she thought, fool- 
 ish sense of honor. Her resentment had gone, 
 yet she still remained silent and in deep thought. 
 
 *" : Why don't you speak, Clara; are you still 
 angry?" 
 
 She disregarded his question, but, looking at 
 him shyly, said in a hesitating manner: "I I 
 have another plan." 
 
 "What is it, dear?" "Will asked, pleased to 
 note that her injured air had disappeared. He 
 sat down, drew her gently to his knee, and then 
 she asked : 
 
 "Will you promise that you'll agree to it?" 
 
 "Yes; if it's not what you suggested before." 
 
 "Now remember, you have promised," said 
 she, and, flushing to the roots of her hair, went
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 263 
 
 on : "I propose buying a farm near M , then 
 
 getting married, and all of us living there to- 
 gether. Mr. Wilbur could work it, and after you 
 
 had opened an office in M I could drive you 
 
 in and out myself. When I say all of us, I mean 
 Wilkins too. As you are so scrupulous, I could 
 hold the deed until you had made enough in the 
 law business to buy the place." 
 
 She finished speaking in great confusion, and 
 looked nervously down. The picture she made 
 at that moment Will never forgot. Her peerless 
 beauty seemed enhanced to the highest degree 
 by her trepidation. Holding her close to his 
 throbbing heart he murmured the impassioned 
 words: "Oh! my darling!"
 
 264 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 TWO PKOPOSALS. 
 
 CONFINED to his room, Walter Hart had ample 
 time for reflection. Through the window a 
 stretch of road bordered by tall elms could be 
 seen where it ran between green fields, ripening 
 corn, and orchards of fruit. It was a restful, 
 quieting scene, entrancing in its rural beauty, 
 and Mrs. Hart was pleased that her hitherto un- 
 observing son had at last acquired an interest in 
 nature. He had. But it was in human nature. 
 His rapt, fixed gaze was no indication of the 
 trend of his thoughts, for the smiling landscape 
 was hidden from his sight by a vision of blue 
 eyes, flaxen hair, and pretty ankles. Clara ap- 
 peared to him now only in the light of a sin- 
 cere friend, as she had wished. Yet, had it not 
 been for the kindly (?) office performed by that 
 vicious bull, he might have gone on making him- 
 self miserable indefinitely. Circumstances had 
 so shaped themselves as to change the stereopticon 
 slide of his mind, and it reflected another pic- 
 ture. Will and Clara called on him quite often, 
 never forgetting to bring Violet, although it fre- 
 quently required persuasion. Clara noticed 
 Walter's changed feelings, and, as his face to her 
 was an open book, she plainly saw the cause.
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 205 
 
 One day she was alone with him, and, taking 
 advantage of the opportunity she had created, 
 said in her abrupt way : "Walter, you love Violet 
 Clark." 
 
 It came so suddenly and unexpectedly that he 
 started and colored deeply. 
 
 "How does it happen that you are so wise?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "lean see it quite easily, "she returned, "and 
 I am very glad, for she is a lovely girl. I never 
 knew how nice she was until lately." 
 
 "She cares nothing for me," said Walter, with 
 a sigh, as he gazed abstractedly at a bunch of 
 hollyhocks growing outside the window. 
 
 "She does care for you," insisted Clara, "but, 
 like every man, you are too blind to see it." 
 
 "Do you think so?" he asked, looking at her 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I know it, "she answered, and as she noticed 
 his expression the thought of his appearance on 
 the night he had stood with her at the gate in so 
 much agitation came to mind, and she smiled. 
 Then he was dying for love of her. and now he 
 was sighing for love of another. 
 
 "I'll soon give you a chance to find out for 
 yourself," said she, "and you must be brave. 
 Pay no attention to her shyness, and it will come 
 around all right." 
 
 Kising, she left the room, and went out toward 
 the flower garden, where she had purposely left 
 Will and Violet, Will, of course, knowing her 
 object in doing so. 
 
 "Come in," she called. "If you two stay out 
 there much longer I shall get jealous.'*
 
 266 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 They laughingly obeyed, and after all were 
 seated in the parlor with Walter, the persistent 
 match-maker sprang up suddenly, saying: "Oh! 
 Will. I had forgotten something. Mrs. Hart 
 said Violet and I could have some of those pinks. 
 Come along with your pocket-knife and cut the 
 stems for me. You entertain W 7 alter," said she 
 to Violet, "and we'll be back in a minute." 
 
 Taking Will by the arm she drew him from the 
 room laughing softly as they passed through the 
 door. Violet did love Walter, yet, not knowing 
 that it was reciprocated, she had concealed it as 
 she thought carefully. But if Clara could read 
 the thoughts of Walter, how much easier must it 
 have been to fathom those of one of her own sex. 
 The sympathy and compassion aroused in Violet's 
 gentle breast at sight of Walter lying so wan and 
 helpless on the day he escaped from the quarry 
 had developed from that germination into a deep 
 and lasting affection. 
 
 She battled against it, unsuccessfully, for in 
 her doubt she already anticipated the pangs of 
 unrequited love. Left alone together, thej' both 
 became distrait and embarrassed. She remained 
 silent for fear her voice would betray her agita- 
 tion and thus disclose her secret. He was 
 anxious to relieve his mind, and yet afraid of 
 frightening her away. How should he begin? He 
 soon thought out a way, however, and in pursu- 
 ance of it requested Violet to bring him a glass 
 of water. When she had gone he reached with 
 his crutch the chair on which she had been sit- 
 ting, and drew it near his own. Returning, she
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 267 
 
 handed him the glass, and looked at a chair 
 across the room. 
 
 Noticing her glance he said quickly: "Sit 
 here, Violet, please; I have something to say to 
 you." 
 
 Taking a swallow of the water he put the glass 
 on the sill of the open window by which he sat 
 with his injured limb resting on a chair, while 
 Violet resumed her seat, blushing furiously at 
 being so near him. 
 
 "I don't know how it will seem to you," he 
 began, "but I must speak my feelings at all 
 events. Since the day you were so kind to me, 
 the day you brought me back to consciousness 
 after I had fainted from exhaustion and pain, 
 your sweet face has been constantly before my 
 eyes. Those orbs of innocent blue have been 
 looking sympathetically into mine, and, Violet, 
 I have learned to think of them and their owner 
 as necessary to my happiness." 
 
 She started as though to rise, but he caught 
 her hand and held it firmly, keeping her still 
 seated. "I love you, Violet," he continued pas- 
 sionately, "and my greatest wish it that you will 
 some time be my wife. Could you love me 
 enough for that?" 
 
 She had been looking down, but as he finished 
 speaking her eyes met his. With a sudden un- 
 controllable impulse she threw her arms about 
 his neck, rested her cheeks against his face and 
 wept for joy, too happy to voice the answer which 
 her actions made more eloquent. Her timidity 
 had succumbed to the power of love, and as 
 Walter held her close to his side he fully real-
 
 268 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 ized the extent of the victory he had won. 
 They were far apart when Will and Clara came 
 in, yet the most superficial observer could have 
 told what had happened. This was on a Sunday 
 afternoon, and before evening it was mutually 
 arranged that both weddings should take place 
 on the same day. One evening shortly after 
 this, Miss Wilkins had occasion to go to the 
 store for some "groceries," and on her return 
 Clara noticed a letter in her hand. "Who is it 
 for?" Clara asked. 
 
 "For me," was the answer, while a suspicious 
 color appeared in Miss Wilkins' face. She tore 
 open the envelope, and as she perused the epis- 
 tle the color mounted to her forehead and her 
 hand trembled perceptibly. She sank into a 
 chair apparently unable to stand. 
 
 "Why what's the matter?" asked Clara, in an 
 affrighted voice. "Have you received any bad 
 news?" 
 
 "Why yes no I read it yourself," faltered 
 Miss Wilkins, handing the letter to Clara. It 
 ran as follows : 
 
 "My DEAR HESTEB: Pardon me for presuming 
 to address you thus. My only excuse is that I am 
 sanguine enough to believe I may some day have 
 the privilege of using still more affectionate 
 terms. I have been so long accustomed to writ- 
 ing only letters of a business nature that I know 
 of no way except to come at what I have to say 
 at once. I love you, Hester, and none the less 
 because I am not still a young man. Will you 
 be my wife? You may think this is premature,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 269 
 
 but now that I have found my ideal of woman- 
 hood after waiting so long, I am impatient to 
 know my fate. I have sufficient wealth, and, 
 should you accept my proposal, it would be my 
 sole aim to make you happy. I will be up in a 
 few days for my answer, which I sincerely hope 
 will be in the affirmative. Whatever it may be, 
 I shall always remain 
 
 "Most devotedly yours, 
 
 ' ' WENTWORTH PKOCTOR. ' ' 
 
 Clara read it with pleased astonishment; 
 although she had noticed his attentions to Miss 
 Wilkins, yet had attributed them to a friendly 
 desire to please. "Isn't that just too lovely!" 
 she exclaimed. "You can be married at the 
 same time as Violet and I." Then, looking at 
 Miss Wilkins she asked: "What makes you act 
 so funny? Why, you seem to be nearly fright- 
 ened to death." 
 
 "I I didn't think he cared anything for 
 me," was the answer, "and it has surprised me 
 so that I am almost breathless." 
 
 Clara went over and gave her a kiss and such 
 a hug as would have done credit to an able- 
 bodied bear. 
 
 "I am so glad," said Clara, "you will say yes, 
 of course, and we'll all be happy together. 
 When I see you a fine lady with all your nice 
 things, I suppose I shall be sorry I hadn't mar- 
 ried the banker myself. With a merry laugh she 
 whirled out of the room to meet Will, who was 
 just entering the gate.
 
 270 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHAT THEY FOUND IN THE OAKEN CHEST. 
 
 "CLARA, " said Miss Wilkins, one morning as 
 they lingered over their muffins and coffee, "I 
 have been thinking of something for several 
 days." 
 
 "I presume so, "returned Clara archly, glanc- 
 ing at the diamond on the third finger of Miss 
 Wilkins' left hand, "I have been thinking too. 
 Here are we enjoying the undisturbed delights 
 of 'single blessedness,' with no one to notice a 
 torn wrapper, a stray lock of hair, or a speck of 
 dirt on the floor, and " 
 
 "Why, you wouldn't tolerate such things 
 yourself," interrupted Miss Wilkins, laughing. 
 
 "No, I wouldn't if I could help it; but they 
 will sometimes occur, and I should dreadfully 
 hate to be spoken to." 
 
 " 'Twould be dreadful, indeed!" said Miss 
 Wilkins, with mock gravity, at which they both 
 laughed. 
 
 "But seriously now," Clara went on "we are 
 giving up a great deal just think how annoying 
 it would be when one had tea and cake for sup- 
 per, to have a man about, growling because there 
 were no meat and potatoes." Miss Wilkins
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 271 
 
 smiled again at Clara's rueful expression and re- 
 marked : 
 
 "The state of a man's temper of course depends 
 on the satisfaction of his appetite, and when 
 you are married you will have for meals what 
 your husband likes, and think nothing of 
 it. We give up our absolute independence to be 
 sure; yet nothing of value is obtained in this 
 world without cost. We have chosen between 
 love and 'single blessedness,' as you call it, and 
 we would better expect only happiness, for at the 
 anticipation of trouble it begins. And we often 
 worry about things that never happen, or if they 
 do, are seldom as bad as they have seemed." 
 
 This conversation took place a short time after 
 Mr. Proctor had "closed the deal with Miss Wil- 
 kins, " as she expressed it to Will when telling 
 him of his engagement. It had been a serious 
 matter though, according to Miss Wilkins' ac- 
 count to Clara. Though usually cool and self- 
 possessed, this was such a new and strange ex- 
 perience that his embarrassment was painful. 
 Said she: "When he broached the subject I 
 could hardly tell whether he referred to his pro- 
 posal or a stock transaction." To return to the 
 breakast-table chat. 
 
 "I haven't told you yet," said Miss Wilkins, 
 "what I was thinking of." 
 
 "I thought I knew." 
 
 "No, you didn't," rejoined Miss Wilkins 
 soberly, as she scraped the crumbs on her plate 
 into a little pile, "and I am almost afraid to tell 
 you." 
 
 "You have changed, then, since yon advised
 
 2-72 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 me in regard to Will," said Clara, with mild 
 sarcasm. 
 
 "I shouldn't think you would speak of that 
 now," retorted Miss Wilkins, looking reproach- 
 fully at Clara. 
 
 "Pardon me," said Clara, noticing the pained 
 expression, "I never will again." 
 
 "Well, "observed Miss Wilkins, "I'll tell you, 
 and you can do as you like about it. Those 
 things of your mother's would make you a splen- 
 did wedding outfit." Clara gave her an aston- 
 ished look, and asked in an awe-struck tone: 
 
 "Do you think I ought to use them?" 
 
 "Of course. Why not? They are doing no 
 good packed away like that, and could your 
 mother know, she would be only the happier." 
 
 "Shag, "the little black dog, came up and put 
 his head in Clara's lap. A full minute she sat 
 reflectively, patting him, and then said: "I 
 don't like to go into that room." 
 
 "Oh! pshaw!" cried Miss Wilkins, "that's 
 nonsense. Come, let's go at once and look the 
 things over." 
 
 Clara felt that it would be almost sacrilegious 
 after her father's having kept them so long and 
 so carefully, still, as Miss Wilkins said, anything 
 that could be put to use should not be left idle. 
 On the morning after the tragedy when the door 
 of that room was burst in, only the lock had been 
 broken, which Miss Wilkins had seen to it was 
 immediately replaced by a new one. 
 
 Miss Wilkins got the key which hung on a 
 nail behind the pantry door, and they ascended 
 the stairs. The smell of stagnant air, and the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 2?3 
 
 thought of that awful tragedy, made them shud- 
 der on entering the darkened room. But the 
 bright sunlight streaming in after they had 
 opened the window and shutters was at once re- 
 assuring. The three chests were tiered up at 
 one side of the room, and, with much lifting and 
 tugging, they brought the top one down on the 
 floor. The lid had not been refastened, so Clara 
 easily turned it back. A large paper parcel was 
 on top of the contents, and laying it out on the 
 floor she untied the string. As the paper fell 
 apart, the blood-stained wedding dress unfolded 
 before her! With a horrified expression she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Great heavens! What is this?" 
 
 Miss Wilkins, who was overhauling the second 
 chest, turned and at sight of the object at which 
 Clara gazed, she, too, was startled. She had 
 known of it at the time the room was cleaned, 
 but had kept the knowledge from Clara, and 
 finally forgot the incident herself. Knowing 
 that Clara's questioning could not be evaded, she 
 answered : 
 
 "That was your mother's wedding-dress." 
 
 "But this blood?" asked Clara, pointing at 
 the dark red stains on the lovely white satin. 
 
 "It was found lying on the floor near your 
 father's body." 
 
 With a sharp cry Clara reeled and fell against 
 the wall. Miss Wilkins sprang to her assistance, 
 but it was not needed, for Clara quickly recov- 
 ered her self-possession, although the shock was 
 not so soon overcome. 
 
 "My mother's wedding-dress, and my father's
 
 274 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 blood!" Then covering her face with her hands, 
 she said: "Take it away. Do anything with it 
 so as I never see it again." 
 
 Rolling it up in the paper, and pushing the 
 bundle behind the desk in a corner, Miss Wilkins 
 said: "I will burn it up to-day. I am so sorry 
 I didn't think of doing that before. Though, in 
 fact, I had forgotten all about it." 
 
 "Is there anything more like that?" asked 
 Clara. 
 
 "No," answered Miss "Wilkius soothingly, 
 "think no more about it, and we'll go on with 
 our search." 
 
 Several minutes elasped before Clara could 
 bring herself to look into the chest again where 
 she had found that grewsome memento of her 
 father's violent death. But her woman's love of 
 finery soon prevailed, and, with many exclama- 
 tions of delight, she examined the beautiful 
 dresses of the costliest silk, satin, and velvet, 
 which they took from the two receptacles. 
 There was also much lingerie of linen and lace, 
 such as she had never expected to see, somewhat 
 yellowed, yet of the finest texture and loveliest 
 design. 
 
 "Will you take some of these things?" asked 
 Clara. "There is plenty for us both." 
 
 "No," answered Miss Wilkins, "Mr. Proctor 
 is going to send up a dressmaker with the goods 
 from New York." 
 
 "Why, we could make the things ourselves." 
 
 "Yes; but he insists, I suppose because he 
 thinks they wouldn't be fashionable enough." 
 
 "Oh! I'll tell you what I'll do!" exclaimed
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 275 
 
 Clara, "I'll divide with Violet. Won't she be 
 glad! The poor girl has never had any very 
 expensive clothes, and when she sees all of these 
 lovely things her eyes will sparkle indeed. 
 Let's take them all downstairs and I'll go and 
 get her. 
 
 "Wait until we have looked into the other 
 chest," said Miss Wilkins. 
 
 This one was much larger than either of the 
 two they had just emptied, and so heavy that 
 they could not move it from the wall. It was of 
 oak and very strongly made. A wrought-iron 
 hasp and staple with a large padlock secured the 
 lid. Under the hasp was a mark as though some 
 one had tried to pry it loose and failed. This, 
 no doubt, was done by the man who had broken 
 open the others which were of lighter wood and 
 not so firmly fastened. Eunning down to the 
 woodshed, Clara returned with an ax, and an 
 iron bar which her father had used in setting 
 beanpoles. Using first one and then the other, 
 they worked at the hasp and lid until both were 
 quite exhausted. 
 
 "Well," said Clara, as they sat down panting, 
 "we'll have to give it up." 
 
 "No," returned Miss Wilkins, "after we rest 
 a bit we will try it again." 
 
 In about ten minutes their curiosity became 
 so whetted that they determined to open that 
 strong box, if to do so it were necessary to chop 
 through the cover. Inserting the bar again be- 
 neath the hasp which was now somewhat bent, 
 they strained their utmost and it gave a little. 
 Besting a moment, they pulled again, and this
 
 276 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 time the staple came out with a rush, throwing 
 them backward into the pile of clothing. Re- 
 gaining their feet, the work of an instant re- 
 moved the lid, and they began to satisfy them- 
 selves as to the chest's contents. Two sheets of 
 heavy paper were next the cover, then came 
 books, bound in substantial sheep and calf, 
 stacked around some articles, wrapped in flan- 
 nel, which occupied a goodly portion of the 
 space. The books fitted closely, and the things 
 which first took their notice were wound and 
 placed inside each other, all the chinks being 
 filled with cloth, showing that extreme care had 
 been taken in the packing. One after another 
 they removed and undid the coverings of what, 
 to Clara's astonishment, proved to be a service 
 of the finest, heaviest silverplate. Each article 
 was of elegant design, and each engraved in a 
 conspicuous place with a monogram of the two 
 letters C. and M. These were the initials of 
 Clara's mother, for whom she was named. The 
 handsomest thing of all was a large punch bowl 
 lined with dark-yellow gold. Around the out- 
 side of it were molded in bold relief groups of 
 laughing children in vineyards and orchards 
 loaded with fruit, while two griffins facing out- 
 ward as though guarding the cherubs in their 
 care formed the handles. Clara had had but a 
 vague idea of her father's previous wealth. So 
 as a consequence this glittering array of evi- 
 dence filled her with wonder, accustomed as she 
 was to plain living and tableware of ordinary 
 utility. Miss Wilkins had known of this silver, 
 but thought Mr. Mason had disposed of it before 
 going to H .
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY, 277 
 
 "Isn't it strange," asked Clara, "that father 
 never spoke of this splendid set to me? 
 
 "Not at all," answered Miss Wilkins, "he was 
 afraid of its becoming known. Yet, with all his 
 secrecy, George Hayden found him at last. He 
 should have changed his name, and not met Mr. 
 Proctor in Albany. What a horrible thing it is 
 to think of!" 
 
 "Please don't refer to that again," said Clara, 
 "while we are in this room, at least. For I am 
 nervous enough now." 
 
 "Oh!I forgot my self, "exclaimed Miss Wilkins, 
 in a tone of self-reproach. Clara turned to the 
 silver again, and examined each piece carefully 
 as she weighed it in her hands, mentally trying 
 to calculate its value. 
 
 "Let's see what books these are, " said Miss 
 Wilkins, and they began to take them out. 
 None were of much interest to them except a 
 few which were bound in silk and morocco, 
 evidently gifts from Mr. Mason to his "beloved 
 wife Clara. " These were perfect specimens of the 
 bookbinder's art, and both duly admired them. 
 Away at the bottom, in one corner, after every- 
 thing else had been taken out, they found a plain, 
 solid-looking mahoganj' box with silver handle. 
 It was locked, but Miss Wilkins at once sus- 
 pected its contents, although she said nothing. 
 
 "What do you think is in that?" asked Clara, 
 as she saw the box. 
 
 "We'll try to get it open," said Miss Wilkins. 
 "Look in the desk and see if you can find any 
 keys. Your father must have had a bunch of 
 them somewhere."
 
 278 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 The desk was an old-fashioned affair, standing 
 on four legs, with one large drawer, and several 
 pigeonholes on top.- Clara examined the 
 drawer, and pulled a lot of dusty old papers 
 from the pigeonholes with several odds and 
 ends, among which were a couple of well-smoked 
 brier pipes, and a tin box of tobacco but no 
 keys. She noticed that one of these small com- 
 partments was shorter than the rest. On looking 
 at the back she found that one board covered 
 them all. This went to show that in the one 
 there must be a secret pocket. 
 
 Thrusting her hand into it again, she pressed 
 hard against the end. It seemed smooth and 
 firm. Moving her fingers toward the top she 
 felt it give, and, pushing hard, a square piece of 
 wood turned up flat against her palm. Kemov- 
 ing her hand, she saw now a bunch of keys at 
 the extreme end, hanging on a small hook. 
 
 "Why, here they are," said she, taking them 
 out, "we might have saved the fastening on the 
 chest and ourselves a lot of trouble had we 
 looked for them first." 
 
 Placing the mahogany boz on the desk, Clara 
 selected the smallest key, and, finding it the 
 proper one, turned it in the lock. The lid flew 
 back like a watchcase, and there, to her wonder- 
 bulging eyes, appeared such a collection of com- 
 bined gold and diamonds that for a full half 
 minute she could only gaze in speechless amaze- 
 ment. Then she cried with all the excited de- 
 light of a child: "Oh! Wilkins! Look! Look! 
 Did you ever see anything half so lovely?" 
 
 "They are indeed beautiful," was the answer,
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 279 
 
 "and you may well be thankful that your father 
 kept them so secure. For the man that found 
 such a treasure, would not stop going this side 
 of a thousand miles." 
 
 Clara had taken a large diamond star from its 
 bed of purple plush, and holding it at arm's 
 length stood fascinated by its brilliant scintilla- 
 tions. Excepting a necklace of pearls, all of the 
 jewels were diamonds. Diamond bracelets, dia- 
 mond eardrops, a cluster ring, a gold watch set 
 with a large fiery brilliant, brooches for the neck, 
 and pins for the hair, composed the contents of 
 the mahogany box. And the slightest move- 
 ment of this jewel-case caused a shower of irides- 
 cent sparks to be emitted by the mass of gems 
 within it. That Henry Mason had not turned 
 these things into cash on the dwindling of his 
 fortune spoke well for his devotion to the 
 memory of his dead wife, or emphasized the ec- 
 centricity of his character. As one entranced, 
 Clara hung over the box, gingerly removing and 
 replacing each costly bauble, with many an ex- 
 pression of wonder and admiration. At last 
 Miss Wilkins said: "Come, now, Clara, put 
 them away and we'll get to work on the dresses."
 
 280 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THERE was ripping and pressing, cutting and 
 fitting, industriously carried on at the Mason 
 homestead, until Clara and Violet each possessed 
 a trousseau suitable to her own natural charms, 
 and equal in richness of material to that fur- 
 nished by Mr. Proctor for the eldest of the three 
 prospective brides. This was a busy house for 
 weeks, and the gossips found plenty of food for 
 comment, on the extravagance of these three 
 women in the matter of wedding clothes. 
 Neighbors will come in, and are sure to see what 
 is being done, although they may not be told 
 how such costly fabrics are obtained. At last 
 the fatal beg pardon, ladies the happy day 
 arrived. The loud-tongued bell rang out a merry 
 peal, and the morning sunshine portended well 
 for the future happiness of those six people in 
 whom I hope my readers have been as much in- 
 terested as I. A large gathering awaited their 
 appearance at the altar of "the village church 
 among the trees," and a subdued murmur of 
 admiration went up as they reached it, where 
 stood in readiness the venerable father of the 
 fair-haired one, whose blushing diffidence in- 
 creased a beauty not eclipsed by the darker bril-
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 281 
 
 liancy and stateliness of Clara. Miss Wilkins, 
 too, sedately calm, and maturely handsome, 
 seemed not the person the villagers had been 
 accustomed to think her, so much different did 
 she appear in this new role. "Will, Walter and 
 Mr. Proctor, each a fine specimen of manhood 
 in his own way, were slightly disconcerted at 
 their conspicuous position, yet withal, proud 
 and happy. 
 
 The proceedings went smoothly, until just as 
 the last pair was being sentenced a united, 
 when somebody fell, with a loud cry of pain. It 
 was found to be Bosh Warton, who, in trying to 
 see the better, had climbed upon his seat and 
 fallen, breaking out his last two front teeth on 
 the back of the pew ahead. At this instant the 
 \vordswere spoken that made Will and Clara one, 
 and John Short remarked : 
 
 "It's a jedgment uppun th' ole fool, fertryin' 
 t' git Will Benson hung." 
 
 A midday reception was given at the Mason 
 place to the whole community, and all voted it 
 the greatest occasion of the kind they had ever 
 seen which was true. In the afternoon Mr. 
 
 Wilbur drove them down to M , where they 
 
 took the train en route for New York. Mr. 
 Proctor did the honors for a week, and all went 
 merrily. 
 
 After the ceremony, Mr. Proctor had presented 
 Clara with five thousand dollars, listening to no 
 refusal, and wishing, as he said, to ease his con- 
 science for having made such poor speculations 
 for her father. So Clara's proposition could be 
 carried into effect much more easily with this 
 addition to what she previously had.
 
 282 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Will Benson afterward became one of the most 
 prominent lawyers of the county, and, entering 
 politics, was sent to the ,egislature, where he 
 represented at least his constituents, as it goes 
 without saying that the opposition is seldom or 
 never satisfied. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Proctor spent many a delightful 
 summer mouth with Will and Clara at their 
 
 pleasant home near M , and, as time went on 
 
 and little tots came to the farm, these visits were 
 doubly enjoyable to the jolly banker and his 
 wife. Walter Hart remained on his father's 
 farm until he began the study of law, at Will's 
 suggestion, finally entering the latter's office as 
 a partner. Mr. Young bought the "Mason 
 Place," which he still occupies, being as before, 
 postmaster and "storekeeper." 
 
 Pete Smith is "farmin* it" yet, and John 
 Short is still carrying the mail. Poor old Bosh 
 Warton has gone to the great beyond, at the 
 entrance of which all human curiosity must end. 
 The constable and the squire are occupying those 
 "official" positions yet, but the latter has taken 
 good advice and is not so much of a "Blow- 
 hard." Zeb White developed more ambition 
 than was thought possible, and became Pete 
 Smith's "steady hand." 
 
 George Hayden was such a mild and appar- 
 ently harmless prisoner, that, in a few daj's after 
 his incarceration, the jailer relaxed his usual 
 precaution on entering the cell. Hayden made 
 a practice of being in bed when his evening meal 
 was brought, in order, as it afterward appeared, 
 to throw the jailer off his guard. One night the
 
 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 283 
 
 jailer saw him as he thought lying on the cot, 
 and, placing the dishes on the floor, turned to 
 leave the cell. Then, without the slightest 
 warning sound, there came a blow from behind 
 that felled him to the floor. Hay den hs:l 
 wrenched loose one of the heavy side pieces of 
 the wooden cot for a weapon. And by fixing the 
 bed against the wall, and rolling up the clothes, 
 his plan had worked. Donning the unconscious 
 man's coat and hat, he locked the cell door be- 
 hind him, stalked out of the jail, and disappeared 
 forever. Unbroken tranquillity and security 
 again reigned over the fertile plain and green 
 
 hillsides of the peaceful valley of H . And 
 
 now that there is no more for me to say of the 
 place or people, I will show it to you, dear 
 reader, as I saw it last. 
 
 On a beautiful morning in early summer, I 
 trudged up the South Hill road on my way to 
 the outer world in search of fame and fortune, 
 both of which, loy the way, have successfully 
 eluded my grasp. Reaching the highest point, I 
 sat down on a bowlder by the roadside to take a 
 final look at this scene of beauty, with which all 
 of my early memories were connected. The pic- 
 ture was that which I have tried to describe in 
 the opening chapter. As I sorrowfully gazed, a 
 feeling of indecision came over me. At this 
 moment the church bell began to ring, and it 
 had never sounded so sweet to me before. As 
 its loud clear tones broke upon the Sabbath still- 
 ness an impulse to obey its call took possession 
 of me, and, torn by conflicting emotions, I 
 shook as with the ague.
 
 284 A COUNTRY TRAGEDY. 
 
 Should I return, and alter all of my long con- 
 templated plans? No, I could not. Beside, I 
 would be laughed at for my foolish sentimental- 
 ity. Easing to my feet with a sigh of regret, I 
 turned and hurried away, not daring to look 
 back, and anxious to get beyond the sound of 
 that bell's almost irresistible summons. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 The Passing of Alix. 
 
 By MRS. MARJORIE PAUL. 
 
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