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DARK DAYS.
BY HUGH CONWAY.
Author of “Called Back.”
CHAPTER XVI. ,
“where are the snows that fell last
YEARS”
Although, while engaged in the labor of
writing this story, I have many times re
gretted that I am nothing more than a plain
narrator of facts and incidents, not a master
of Action, I think I have not felt the regret
so strongly as at the moment when I begin
this chapter. The sombre acts of the life
drama inf which Philippa and I played parts
so painful, so full of grief, and even if
brightened by a ray of joy, of joy falla
cious and of uncertain tenure—these acta I
have found little difficulty in describing; I
had simply to throw my mind back to the
pictures of the past and reproduce them in
words. The task, whether well or ill done,
was not a hard one.
But now, when in one moment and as if
by magic, everything changed; when sorrow
seemed to be simply swept out of our lives;
when that poor wretch’s abject confession
of guilt, forced from him in some mysterious
way, not only left our whole future bright
and cloudless, but consigned to rest all the
ghosts of the past, whose shadowy forms
had hitherto dogged our steps and denied as
the happiness rightly due to those who love
as we loved; now I feel my shortcomings
acutely, and wish my pen was more power
ful than it is.
And yet a word will describe the state of
my own mind as, when the lost solemn
words were spoken by the judge—spoken in
a voice which showed emotion and distress
at being compelled to condemn a fellow
creature to death—l carried my fainting
wife from the crowded, reeking court The
momentary sense of rapture passed away;
bewilderment, sheer bewilderment, is the
word for what was left I could not think.
All my reasoning faculties had left me. In
fact, I believe that had Philippa not swooned,
and so needed my mechanically given care,
I myself shoul 1 have fallen senseless on that
threshold which an hour before we crossed,
thinking we were going to endless misery.
I remember this much. As I laid Phil
ippa on one of the hard wooden benches in
the stone corridor I kept repeating to my
self, “Innocent, my love is innocent; that
man is guilty.” I suppose this continual re
iteration was an endeavor to impress the
tremendous fact upon my brain, which for
a time was incredulous, and refused to en
tertain it.
I threw up my wife’s veil and bathed her
face with water, which was brought me by
a kindly policeman. Presently her eyes
opened and consciousness returned; she
strove to speak.
My presence of mind was fast returning.
“Dearest,” I whispered, “as you love, mo not
a word in this place. In a minute we will
leave it”
She was obedient; but I knew from the
wild look of joy in her eyes that obedience
tasked her to the utmost She was soon able
to rise, and then we walked from the court,
pushed our way through the crowd who
waited in the street busily discussing the
sudden termination to the trial, threw our
selves into a cab and in another moment
were alternately weeping and laughing in
each other’s arms.
It was, however, but for a moment The
inn to which we drove was close at hand.
There we were shown into a room, and were
at last free to give the fullest vent to our
pent up feelings.
It would be absurd for me to attempt to
reproduce our words, our disjointed exclama
tions. It would be sacrilege for me to de
scribe the tears that we shed, the embraces,
the loving caresses we lavished on each
other. Think of us an hour, one short hour
ago! Think of us now! This curse laid
upon us by that awful night removed for
ever! Our secret kept, or secrecy, if still
advisable, no longer absolutely needful.
Philippa, in spite of all 1 had seen, in spite
of all she had told me on that night When 1
found her, a wild, distracted woman, in a
storm the wildest that years have known,
guiltless of her husband’s death! Innocent,
not only as she had in my eyes always been,
but also, what was far more, innocent in her
own eyes!
Small wonder that for nearly an hour we
sat with our arms twined around each Other,
and used few words which were more than
rapturous exclamations of love and joy.
There! I cannot, will not describe the
scene more fully. I will say no more, ex
cept this; whan at last we grew calmer,
Philippa turned to me, and once more I saw
tei-ror gathering in her eyes,
“Basil,” she said, “is it true—it must be
true!”
“True! of course it is.”
“That man, the prisoner, could not have
pleaded guilty when he was innocent.”
“Why should he? It meant death to him,
poor wretch.”
“But why did he confess?”
“Who can tell? Remorse may have urged
him to do so."
Philippa rose an! her next words were
spoken quickly and with excitement
“No, I did not do it The thought, the
dream haunted me, but I did not believe it
until I heard these men talk of the way-he
died. Then it all came back to me. The
mad storm, the dead man over whom I
stood; even then I don’t think I actually
believed it. It was when you told me how
you found me that I lost all hope.”
“Dearest, forgive mo. I should have be
lieved in the impossibility of the act even in
your delirium, even if I had seen it done.
Philippa, say you forgive me.”
She threw her arms around mo. “Basil,
my husband,” she whispered, “you have
done much for me, do one thing more; And
out the whole truth—find out why this man
killed him, bow he killed him; find out,
satisfy nie that his confession was a true
one; thin, Basil, such happiness as I hava
never even dreamed of will be mine!”
“And mine!” I echoed.
I promised to do as she wished. Indeed,
the moment I had recovered my senses I re
solved to learn everything that could be
learned. Once and for all I would clear
away every cloud of doubt, although that
cloud might be no bigger than a man’s
hand.
But Philippa must not stop in Tewnham.
Her straugo conduct during the trial, her
faint! ig fit after it, wore bound to have at
tracted the attention of those present. No
doubt she was looked upon as a friend of the
prisoner, who was overpowered by the sud
den and awful ending to the case. Still, she
must not stay at Tewnham.
We went to London by an afternoon train.
The next morning I again ran down to the
place at which the trial was held. I learned
the name of the convict's solicitor, and as
soon as I found him at leisure requested the
favor of an interview.
I found him apparently a worthy, respec
table man, but of a nature inclined to be
choleric. I told him I called on him because
THE SAVANNAH DAILY TIMES, MONDAY, JANUARY 12, 1885.
I was much interested in the case of the con- -
vict William Evans. Mr. Crisp, that was
his name, frowned an 1 fidgeted about with
some papers which wore in front of him.
“1 would rather not talk about the case,”
he said sharply. “Nothing for many years ■
has so much annoyed me."
“■Why? Your client only met with his 1
deserts." ‘
“True—true. But I am a lawyer, sir. 1
Our province is not to think so much of 1
deserts ns of what we can do for a client. It I
is hard to try and serve a fool.”
“No doubt; but I scarcelj’ understand
your meaning."
“Meaning I I could have saved that man. 1
There was no evidence to speak of against 1
him. What did it amount to? A pistol of a 1
peculiar make found in a field half a mile
away from the scene of the murder; one man 1
who could swear that the pistol was my '
client's property —a pawnbroker, to whom he I
wanted to sell it Positively, sip, that was 1
the whole case for the Crown. Never so 1
disgusted in my life—never I” I
The excitable little man’s looks showed '
that Ids disgust was not assumed.
So the pistol which I had thoughtlessly '
hurled away had, alter all, furnished the 1
clew and brought the criminal to justice.
Although I was now quite satisfied that the 1
right person was to suffer for the dark
crime, I resolved to get all the additional
information 1 could.
“ But whv did he plead guilty?" I asked.
“But why did he plead guilty?" I asked.
“Because he was a fool," rapped out Mr.
Orisp.
“ Because he was a fool,” rapped out Mr.
Crisp. “It was like committing suicide. I
don’t care a button for the man himself; but
I confess I was annoyed at seeing my Case
all knocked to pieces by his obstinacy. I
went to him; if you were in court you no
doubt saw me. I begged him to withdraw
his plea, I told him I could save him. Yet
the fool insisted.”
“Did penitence or remorse urge him?’
“I don’t know. He could have had more
time for penitence and remorse if he had
let me save hini from the gallows. No; he
says, ‘lt’s no good—not a bit of good. You
don’t know all I know. There’s some one in
court who knows all about it—saw it all
done. She’s come to hang me.’ I have no
dea what he meant.”
I started. I knew what the man meant.
Ha, in common with every one else in that
court, had turned and looked at Philippa as
she rose from her seat and addressed the
judge. It was the sight of Philippa that
had taken away the wretch's last hope of
escape.
“I wash my hands of the fellow, of
course,” continued Mr. Crisp; “but I did
take the trouble to inquire if any witnesses
for the prosecution had been allowed to enter
the court lam assured they were all kept
in waiting outside.”
I sat for some moments in deep thought.
The solicitor looked at me as if he fancied I
had already taken up as much of his valu
able time as he could spare.
“Is there any way of gaining access to the
condemned man?” I said. “Could you, for
instance, get an order to see him?”
“No doubt I could; but I have no object in
seeing him."
“I will give you an object,” I said. “I
want you to see that man, and if possible
get a written, or at least dictated, confession
from him—not of the bald fact that he is
guilty, but of all particulars connected with
the murder."
Mr. Crisp looked surprised, and expressed
bis opinion that it was all but impossible to
obtain what I wanted.
I had taken rather a fancy to the brisk
spoken, sharp little mam He seemed to me
trustworthy; so that, after consideration, I
determined to confide to him my reasons
tor making this request. Under the assur
ance of professional secrecy, I told him
briefly so much as I thought fit of Philippa’s
and my own connection with the events of
that night. He listened with an interest
which augured well for the reception which
awaits the sombre tale I now give to the
world. His curiosity seemed excited, and
be promised to see the convict, and if possi
ble learn all I .wanted to know. I left my
address and.bade him good day.
I did not care to linger at Tewnham; so I
walked down to the railway station, intend
ing to return to town by the next train. As
I waited on the platform a down train
came in. A suddgn,lmpulse seized me. The
day was still young. I had tijne to spare.
I crossed the bridge, entered the train, and
in a quarter of an hour was at' Roding. I
went there because I was impelled by a de
sire to once more visit the actual scene of
the beginning of all these troubles.
I walked that road which Sir Mervyn
Ferrand had walked that dark night. But
oh,how changed everything was! Yet not
more changed than our own lives! It was a
glorious afternoon in September. The rain
of the preceding day had left the earth
moist an<l fresh. The fields, on either side
of the road, were.gleaming with that bright,
pure emerald which they wear’ alter the
ruthless scythe has swept away the ripe
grass and the marguerites and other flowers
which grew among it; or else they were
filled from hedge to hedge with a golden
sea of waving corn, or sheaves waiting
to be garnered; for the harvest that
year was not early. The wild roses were
long over, but fragrant honeysuckle and
other wild flowers still made gay the hedge
rows and banks. The birds bad awakened
from their August silence and were singing
once more. The great sleepy cows lay under
the shade of the trees. The large mows of
new hay stood side by side with their dingy-/
looking but more valuable elder brothers.
The whole land seemed wrapped in happy
autumnal repose. The scene was calm, peace
ful and thoroughly typical of England. So
beautiful it was, so full I now felt of love for
my native land that had those pages been
then written I should upon my return home
have erased all my glowing description of
Seville.
A breath of soft but fresh air cams blow,
ing from the faraway downs. I drew in a
deep draught; I threw back my shoulders
and stood erect. I laughed aloud in my great '
happiness as a comical picture, familiar to
tny childhood, of Christian losing his bur
den, rose before my mind, and seemed to be
the exact thing wanted to illustrate my own
3uso. Yes, the burden I had borne had fallen
• rom my back fore ver I
Ah! hero is the spot—tho very spot where
Sir Mervyn fell. It was here, just under
Ehat cluster of raggod-robbins, I must have
have placed his corpse, little thinking that
ihe kind white snow would hide it and save
tny love and mo. Oh, how I prayed in those
lays that the bitter weather might last; that
Its iron grip would hold the world fast until
Philippa’s health and strength returned! It
lid so, and saved usl
‘‘Where are the snows that fell last yearf*
Ahlshould I not rather sing yWhere isjths
grief of yesterday !” Gone like the snow.
Other snow may fall, other grief may come,
but last year’s snow and yesterday’s grief
are gon? forever!
Nevertheless, that was too suggestive
of horrible reminiscences for me to linget
long over it! I turned away, and in my
great happiness cotlid whisper to myself
that I forgave the dead man for the ill he
had wrought. May his bones rest in
peace! I walked along the road, right
on until I came to the cottage in
which, like a coward who could not face his
troubles, I had spent those aimless, miser
able months. It was untenanted. Half de
faced auction bills were in the windows and
on tho doorposts; for some months ago the
furniture had been sold. I paused and
looked at the window by which Philippa had
entered, and felt that since that night I had
passed through more grief, passion, fear,
hop? and joy than would fill an ordinary
lifetime. Thon I turned and shook the dust
off my feet. Never again would I come
within twenty miles of this place.
On the road back, to my annoyance, I en
countered Mrs. Wilson. I tried to pass
without sign of recognition, but she was too
quick for me. She stood in front of ms,
and I was bound to stop.
She was more haggard, more drawn, more
aquiline looking than ever. Her eyes alone
looked young. They at least had spirit and
vitality in them. They positively blazed
Upon me.
“She did not do it, after all!” she said
fiercely.
At first I thought of affecting surprise and
asking her what she meant, but I felt that
any attempt at equivoque would be but vain.
“ She did not,” I answered shortly.
“Fool that 1 was 1” she cried. “Fool, to
be led away by an impu Why did I tell
her? I swear to you, Dr. North, that had I
not felt sure it was her act, she should never
have known. She should have gone to her
grave a shamed woman, as I shall go!”
Her look was venom itself.
“ lb member,” I said sternly, “Lady Fer
rand is now my wife. I will not hear her
name coupled with yours.”
She laughed scornfully. “Your wife!
She soon forgot her first* love. Why did I
speak} I wish my hr*ud bad withered be
fore 1 wrote that leftefi Do you know why
I wrote it?”
“ No; nor do I care.*
“1 wrote it for *y©ageance. She bad, I
thought, served that man as I ought to have
served him; but I hated her for it, for I
loved him still. So I thought it would lie so
sweet for her to know that she had killed her
busband, and for you, her lover—l knew you
were her lover—to know that I could at any
moment give her up to justice! I was a fool.
Why did that man plead guilty? When I
saw your wife rise in court I laughed. I
knew what was coming. Now, instead of
harming her, I have done her good."
<r You have,” I said curtly, and turned
upon my heel. The malignity of this woman
was so intense that I felt thankful she could
in no way work Philippa harm.
A quarter of a mile up the road I turned.
Mrs. Wilson, a black spot on a fair scene,
was standing gazing after me. I hurried on
until a bond in the path hid her from my
sight I hurried on back to Philippa and
happiness.
[COMPLETED IN CUR NEXT.]
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Robert Station, Jones County, Ga., June 20U
1884—By the recommendation of Rev. C. C. Davis
used Dr. Mozely’s Lemon Elixir for indigestion, de
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Tour friend,
William B. Emerson.
A Card From Cuthbert.
This is to certify that I used Dr. Mozley’s Lemon
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i cost o* two or three dollars.
H. A. Beall,
Clerk Superior Court, Randolph Co.
Cuthbert, Ga., June 21, 1884.
Dr. Mozley’s Lemon Elixir, prepared at his drug
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It cures all billiuusness, constipation, indigestion,
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Lemon Elixir is prepared from the fresh juice of
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Fifty cents for one half pint bottle, one dollar for
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Too Many to the Acre.
Our crop of’Overcoats has been too plenti
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Soys’ Overcoats, from 4 to 12 years old, as low
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drunkenness, or the Liquor Habit can
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It can be given in a cup of coffee or tea
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185 BaceSt., Cincinnati, O.
Ridge, Mclntosh County, Ga.
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Treatise on the Health and Happiness of
Woman mailed free.
Bradfield Regulator Co.,
Box 28. Atlanta, Ga.
Without Money
AND
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We have just Issued a most wonderful and valuable
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II MAI SiTC I®
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When we tell the public that B. B. 8., the great
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As a solid foundation of heavy masonry has been
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OSCEOLA BUTLER,
' SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
HEALTH!
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I have been entirely relieved of severe rheu
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TWENTY YEARS.—I had been a sufferer
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: Swift’s Specific has relieved me of rheuma
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! Swift’s Specific is entirely vegetable. Treatise
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; vi. t.quinan.
Manufacturer of
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. Sipnons Plain Soda, E c.
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Will shortly he prepared to furnish the
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Nf. T. QUINAN.
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For the latest style and low prices in ents
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7
DRUGS AND MEDICINES.
Sliuptrine’s
Xew Pharmacy,
Bolton and Montgomery streets.
PURE DRUGS
Dispensed by Careful and Expe-
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• tllat bar Que which spreads its sails c
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Corner Broughton and Habersham streets.
TcjcTcjl
CLEANS CLOTHES,
Removes all Grease, Paints, Oils, Varnish
Tar, Dirt or Soils from any fabric
without injury.
FOR SALE BY
J. R. Haltiwang-er,
Cor Broughton and Drayton streets.
Also sold by L. C. Strong and E. A. Knapp
To Clean Your Last Winter’s Suit or
Anything Else Use
“Household Cleaning Fluid.”
It removes grease spots, stains, dirt, etc.,
from woolen, cotton, silk and laces, without
injuring the most delicate fabric.
Prepared only by
DAVID PORTER, Druggist,
Corner Broughton and Habersham streets.
(gflurational.
Sthitl ol Mil Znowledgs!
fhonog-raphy,
Typewriting-,
Telegraphing,
B ookkeeping,
Penmanship.
No. 137 Bay street, Savannah, Ga.
Me. and MRS. C. S. RICHMOND.
Principals.
JBH U-HLgEJm-!!- '!■. JJ,
and
I have removed my entire livery establish
ment from York street to the
Pulaski House Stables
where I may hereafter be found. All orders
for carriages and buggies promptly attended
to Fine Saddle Horses for hire.
E. C. GLEASON,
Proprietor Pulaski House Stables.
Sm&sah Club, Livery & Board Stables
Corner Drayton, McDonough and Hull sts.
A. W. HARMON, Prop’r.
Headquarters for fine Turnouts. Personal
attention given to Boarding Horses. Tele
phone No. 205.
LUMBER AND TIMBER.
BACON, JOHNSON & CO.
PLANING MILL,
LUMBER
AND
WOOD YA HD.
LARGE;STOCK OF
DRESSED AND ROUGH LUMBER
AT LOW PRICES!
O-Good Lot of Wood Just Received.
J. J. McDonough. T. B. Thompson.
Rd. Bubdett.
McDonough & co.,
Office: 116 J Bryan street,
Yellow Pine Lumber.
Lumber Yard and Planing Mill: Opposite
S., F. & W. Railway Depot,
Savannah, Ga.
Saw Mills: Surrency, Ga., No. 6, Macon and
Brunswick Railroad,
D. C. Bacon, Wm. B. Siillwell.
H. P. Smart.
D.C.BACOIN &CO
PITCH PINE
-AND—
Cypress Lumber & Timber
BY THE CARGO.
Savannah and Brunswick, Ga.
P. O. SAVANNAH, GA.
Gentlemen in want of fine Overcoats, such
m are not seen in but very few houses, can be
found at B. H. Levy A Bro.’s.