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. Neely's Popular Library Paper, 250; Newspaper comment may in some minds count for little in settling the value of a novel, but it at least shows the drift of public opinion. Nothing but praise has been spoken of "The Passing of Alix." To show the general trend of this commendation we beg leave to publish a single literary notice from a prominent journal : " A capital little book, that of Mrs. Marjorie Paul, just the light, breezy sort one delights in reading when swinging idly in a awphyr-tossed hammock in the early fall days, or before the crack- ling wood fire of the winter hearth of a country house. Doubtless many a copy will find its way into the satchel or handbag of tourist and commercial traveler, to whom the weighty novel, writ- ten with the evident intention of reforming this wicked and ignorant world, seldom appeals." " It is a story of a sensational character, but clean in thought and pathetic in its conclusion. It is the story of a woman, and a good one. It contains nothing that is sensational, but is full of human interest, and holds the attention of the reader from start 'to finish. Besides telling the story, it teaches a lesson, but does not sermonize. It is a book, in fact, which will interest all, and furnishes the very best sort of light reading." For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price, F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Yorle- Works by the popular young American writer. Edward S. Van Zile. Mr. Van Zile's novels are a boon to those readers who delight in fresh fields, stirring scenes and crisp dialogue. He has already won a place among the leading American authors of the day. Newspaper criticism of this work has been almost unanimously favorable, and we have no hesitation in recommending his books to those in search of clean, yet stirring literature. Mr. VanZile is also a versatile and pleasing poet, ana his latest book, "The Dreamers," is one of the most artistic volumes published this season. Mr. Van Zile's poems cover a wide range of topics and bear the imprint of an assured literary touch. Their popularity has been established by the reception with which they have met upon their appearance in magazines and weeklies. THE BEEAMERS, and Other Poems. Cloth, $1.25. KN6S IN ADVERSITY. Keely's Prismatic Library, gilt top, 50o. XHE LAST OF THE VAN SLACKS Neely's Prismatic Library, Paper, %* for sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prie*. P. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 96 Queen Street, London 114 Fifth Avenue. New York Thomas B. Connery's Novels, From many flattering press notices those given below will indicate the favor with which Mr. Connery's writings are received by the public : " ALL THE DOG'S FAULT is a capital book to pass away an or two, full of incident, love, and humor. The author has long been known as a substantial figure in New York banking circles, and occupied a prominent position in politics during the Garfield- Arthur dynasty, his name being mixed with the Conkling im broglio at the time the Empire State senators withdrew so dra matically from the United States Senate. Mr. Connery has given. us a delightful romance, which will be read with pleasure by all those who desire to be entertained without the necessity of hav- ing some musty logic generated for the reformation of the world thrust down their unwilling throats. He writes to amuse- and certainly fulfils his mission to the Queen's taste." " BLACK FRIDAY : A STORY OF LOVE AND SPECULATION, by rhos. B. Connery. When a man as prominem. as Thos. B. Con- nery has shown himself in the financial world takes up the pen to write a romance of love and speculation under such a significant title as Black Friday,' we have a right to expect something out of the beaten track. Nor does the book bring disappointment It is fresh and vigorous. The financier wields a trenchant pen. His pictures are excellent, and the love passages worthy of com- mendation. Some men excel in one field, but Mr. Connery bids fair to make a name for himself in literature as well as among the bulls and bears of Wall Street." 'THAT NOBLE MEXICAN, Mr. Connery's latest book, even excels the preceding volumes in interest and must ad<* to hi* already enviable reputation." Neely's Popular Library. ALL THE DOG'S FAULT. Paper, 25 oenta. BLACK FRIDAY. Paper, 25 cents. ""HAT NOBLE MEXICAN. Paper, 25 cents. Per sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, ^6 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, Naw York, NEELY'S TOURIST LIBRARY Paper, Twenty-five Gents. No, 1 The White Company. By A. Conan Dovle, 2. The Deemster. By Hall C.iine. 3. A Romance of Two Worlds. By Marie Corelli, ' 4. Treasure Island. By Robert L. Stevenson. 5. Toe Sign of the Four. By A. 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Van Zile. 30. Love Letters of a Worldly Woman. By Mrs. W. K. Clifford 81. Claudea's Island. By Esme Stuart. 32. At Love's Extremes. By Thompson. 33. The Minister's Weak Point. By Maclure, 34. Rachel Dene. By Robert Buchanan. 35. Social Etiquette. By Emily S. Bouton. 36 The House of the Snven Gables. By Nathaniel Hawthorns 37. At Market Value. By Grant Allen, 38. Her Victim. By an Indian Exile. 39. When a Man's Single. By J. M. Barrie. 40. A Daughter of India. By An Indian Exile. 41. Dream Life. By Ik. Marvel. 42. Reveries of a Bachelor. By Ik. Marvel. 43. Christopher Columbus. By Franc B. Wilkie. 44. Dodo. By E. F. Benson. For sal* everywhere or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the F. TENNYSON NEELY, 06 QUEEN STREET. 114 FIFTH AVBNM*. LONDON NEW YOBJt, UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000043697 2