A Long Martyrdom

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 254, 24 October 1905, Page 6

A Long Martyrdom

By CKA__-X___a W. -_-A*-*-_*_AWAY,

Aattwr et ***** Vow," "Love's Guiding Hand/ '-Mai-jwiefc SwMtheut," ' "Joseph Dane's Diplomacy," _te_, ate.

C_L_JPTER LXIL death, and by that death he was an inTHB CA__L OF dbath. finite gainer. Vera met-her lover's gaze, , and her own grew troubled. Was LeiIt was Dick Camden who opened the: ces t e r already under arrest, and Esdoor when Esmond knocked softly. j mon d feared *to tell her? Why should "Thank Heaven;" the man said, husk- nc? Sne waa a i rea <iy prepared for this. 3y, a_ Vivian grasped his hand; "he's "Don't keep mc in suspense," she said, living still!" t under breath, and the quiver of a vague Straight upstairs Esmond went, Dick d rea d wen t through her; it must ha*4_ following. been the outcome of, the perfect rapport "This room, sir,-' said the latter, point- between his nature and hers. He bent ing to the sitting-room, and Vivian his head a little, and spoke with an efnoiselessly opened the door. | fort, Vera sat in a low chair near the fire, |«i ,-ag w jth him last night, Vera; it Edgar, wrapped in a loose gown, lying was tn at delayed mc." on her knee, Rosalie kneeling beside her. i "You mean you told him all you Vera looked up, and the light flashed knew?" across her face; Rosalie rose to her feet,; «t told him all." Esmond's head was and drew back as Esmond went to Vera, still* bowed; he was drawing his breath and knelt by her, clasping closely m.ma slow, laboured way; "and that he his the hand she stretched out to him. would be charged with conspiracy. Ha.

"Thank God!" she whispered, with quivering lips, "it is not too late!" "Dearest, I only reached home a few minutes ago!" He looked down on the face of the dying child, and thought of the father lying dead by his own hand—the father whose name would be a by-word. Ay, it was better as it was—far, far better! Even in the tension of these moments Vera saw how white and haggard Esmond looked; but now there was only this little life that was ebbing away so fast to be thought of. "Has he suffered?" Vivian asked, soft-

seemed quite crushed and broken down, all the boldness went out of him. I made him give mc a written confession of the truth. It was, as I thought, Alma's deed, not his. You shall read, presently. Then I left him, locking the door upon him, to find a constable. I was only away ten minutes " Again he paused, and raising his head, their eyes met. The horror in hers took his breath. Her lips were white as his own; they moved, but there was no sound; only her eyes asked the question, and Esmond's answer was scarcely a whisper: "He was dead. He had shot himself to the heart!"

Vera shook her head. "No," she said, "save a little with his breathing. He was taken a little while before I sent for you. I saw at once K ow it was. He asked for you so often." There were burning tears in the man's lark eyes. "Vera," he whispered, "you would not '"aye it otherwise" "No," she said, steadily, '-'not even .no-w!"

Vera did not start or cry out. She did not move, only stared at the man before her, with that stare of horror grow ing more fixed and stony. Her lips formed the word "dead.." but did not utter it. Then she suddenly rose to her feet, shuddering, and pressing her hands to her temples. Esmond rose. too. | "Dead!" she muttered. "Shot to thheart! —dead! With that last sin upo** his soul!" She turned to Esmond, and flung out her hands to him in a wiM desperate way. "Don't say that!" sh* said. "He is living still—there is some hope! He must have time—time!" Vivian flung bis arm round her, as she stn?<rered, and her head fell forward on bis breast. "Not lost!" be heard tbe faint whisper as he bont over her. "Mary, mother, not lost!" And be bore her gently to the couch, and, laying her down—she was in a deep swoon—summoned Rosalie. (To be continued daily.)

She turned then bo Rosalie. "Come near," she said; ."you are one if us, Rose!" _ z z z z z Rosalie came and sat down by Vera'ide, and Esmond took her hand in his, •nd touched his lips to it; neither of *hem spoke. Presently the child stirred, and half opened his eyes. . "Mamma mia," be murmured, "bello -ignor—come—soon V His old watchword! Vera bent over the child. '"He is here, Edgar." ■ The large eyes opened wide, and looked up straight into the handsome face f he boy loved. Esmond gathered the ".tie creature within his arm**, and kiss"d the soft Ut»s with a pa=pion of tenderness, and Edgar murmured, "Bello '•more, come!" in a kind of ecstasy. v ftet that, he lay on bis mother's breast ■vith closed eves, and only once smoke -"?ain, scarcely artieu'ately now, "Bello "ismore—love mamma—mamma mia iolce!"

They bold their breath! One fleetm*; 'ownrd look into his mother's face, and he short, sinless life wa« over. Father and child, within a f«.w hours f each other—the father, steeped in in, soared in conscience, with crime '"pon his soul; the child, pure and spot'oss as virgin snow. Fo_* a moment Vera raised her eyes ! n dumb anguish to Esmond's face. He "•■nt his arm gently about the child. "Give 'urn to mc," he said, very softly, and 'he made no resistance, but suffered him to carry the little one into the next room, and lay him on the bed; then she fell down on her knees, and broke into terrible weeping. "Oh! Mother of God!" she said. "My child; my child! Oh! what shall I do? Oh! Edgar, come back to mc!" Then E-mond sat down in the chair by the bedside, and drew Vera within his arms, and let her weep out the first bitterness on his breast; only soothing her tenderly, by gentle touch, and close, loving clasp, until she had grown calmer, then he whispered soft words of comfort, and so the vehemence of her griet -Jassed away under the spell of that perfect sympathy, that all-conquering love. He did not oppose her wish to do, with her own hands, the last offices for he dead, but told her to come back to him when all was done, and he went back to the sitting-room, and sent Rosalie in .0 her. How should he tell her now of her husband's terrible death? And yet he dared not delay too long; he dared not leave it to chance for her to hear of the tragedy. - -

Mr. Stine has been appearing throughout Australia and in New Zealand in "Mama's New Husband" and "Brown's In Town," delighting thousands of people. When asked how it was he kept in such fine condition physically he unhesitatingly said it was because he always made it a practice to take two or three of Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills when he felt., he was beginning to get of sorts. He went on the principle that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. ,Mr. Stine, in his letter, says: "For 'months past I have been troubled with my Liver. My mother-in-law, in America — long before I came to Australia —recommended Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills, which I tried, and I tell you honestly that after using them I feel like a different man. They aid digestion, cleanse the Stomach, and give tone to the entire\system. I always have a bottle with mc, and find them to be all that you claim them to be. A pill or two taken once or twice a week regulates my system perfectly, producing sound sleep and elasticity of spirits. You may make whatever use of this you think fit. Yours very truly, Chas. J. Stine, Palace Theatre." Many people think if some prominent man recommends a medicine it must be all right, i but blood is the same in King and Kaiser, j Prince and Peasant, Senator and Tramp. The medicine that will regulate the system of somebody will regulate tbe system of everybody. Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills assist in the digestion and assimilation of food, cleansing the Stomach and driving poisonous tumours out of the Blood, making it rich and red. They are a positive and permanent cures for all complaints arising from Stomach; Liver and Kidney Trouble, and are a perfect Blood-purifier.

In about half an hour the door opened, and Vera came into the room again. She looked very white, and showed clearly the signs of mental exhaustion; but she bad not lost the calm that had followed that first outburst of grief. Esmond took her by the hand, and would have placed her in a chair, but she

paused. "How haggard and troubled you look," she said, wistfully. -"There is tea here; will you have some, or some wine?" "The tea, Vera—and you also." She shook her head. "To please mc," he added, pouring it out, and she submitted, letting him place her in a chair. Presently Esmond came and stood by her side, and she looked up alt him with a quick, searching gaze that he could hardly bear; his eyes drooped a little. "Vivian," she said, "don't spare mc any pain. I think nothing can hurt mc now." -

She took his hand in both hers, and held it to her lips for a moment; and the action, the touch of her lips, made his heart stand still. He knelt down by her then, leaving his hand in her clasp—how she seemed to cling to it! and his dark eyes searched her face in wistful pain! How should he tell her the awful truth, that must be to her even the more terrible because, through all the shock and the horror, it would be as the breaking of the captive's .chains. So clear that was to Esmond now—he would not fight it down—that there was in his soul almost a sense of guilt; his hand had brought Leicester Sabine to his