RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE.
Mannis, reaching the street, was wild with excitement. "Curse the luck!
Why didn't the fellow keep away from Cleverdale? I am lost!"
Overcome by his feelings, he entered the Cleverdale Hotel, and ordering
a team was soon on his homeward way, while thoughts of inevitable
failure and exposure coursed through his mind. The fugitive's return and
the revelation made greatly astonished him, yet he had no doubt but that
Alden and Belle were really man and wife.
Reaching the old Manor at ten o'clock, he was soon in his room, where he
gave way to his feelings.
"I am a doomed man; my race is about run. What a fool I have been!
To-morrow the world will learn of this beautiful little tableau at
Hamblin's, and I shall be the butt of all jokes. But, pshaw! what do I
care for that? Other things will make the neighborhood too warm for me.
I must leave here, and at once."
Walking the room, gloom gathered upon his brow as he realized the
desperate game he had been playing. Suddenly his gaze fell upon a letter
lying upon his writing-table, the superscription being in the delicate
handwriting of Mary Harris. With trembling hands he tore off the
envelope, and read as follows:
"DEAR WALTER: When you read this, my body will be lying in the
pond, back of your house, and my soul before its Maker."
"Great God!" he exclaimed, "I have killed her! Poor girl! poor girl!"
After partially calming himself, he continued reading the letter.
"When the hour of your wedding arrives, death will be my
bridegroom. I have loved you with all the affection of my heart, and
I forgive the wrong you have done me. God spare your life. Tears
fall so fast I can scarcely see the paper before me or even hold my
pen. Think occasionally of poor Mary. I cannot live and face the
disgrace that will be mine. God bless and forgive you.
"MARY HARRIS."
Dropping the letter, he staggered and fell upon the sofa, utterly
overcome. For a few moments he moaned in anguish, but soon rousing
himself he arose and said:
"I must overcome this nervousness, and drown these thoughts with
brandy--not with water, as poor Mary did hers."
He hastily quaffed a glass of liquor, and the color returned to his
face. Then he spoke rapidly to himself.
"I must go! The suicide of Mary Harris being discovered, her father will
seek my life. Alden has returned. Now I must be the fugitive."
During the night he wrote several letters, rising at intervals and
pacing the room in great agitation. Occasionally lying down, he tried to
drive distracting thoughts from his mind, but sleep refused to respond
to his summons. Toward morning he packed a trunk and valise, intending
to take them with him.
Daylight arriving and the household astir, Mrs. Culver was amazed at
hearing him moving about in his room. Going to his door she rapped, and
being admitted expressed much surprise at his presence in the house. He
only said the wedding had been postponed, but as the good woman observed
the ghastly expression upon the face of her master, she knew something
had occurred which he did not wish to divulge.
Mannis partook of a light breakfast, and at nine o'clock, his trunk and
valise having been placed in the carriage, he bade Mrs. Culver good-by,
and said:
"I may be absent a fortnight."
As he stepped into the carriage, farmer Harris, bareheaded, with his
face full of rage, suddenly appeared before him, and, pulling a pistol
from his pocket, said:
"You miserable wretch, prepare to die! My poor daughter's body lies in
yonder house, and you are her murderer. May the devil take your soul!"
There was a flash, followed by a sharp report, and the "Honorable"
Walter Mannis fell back in his carriage. Mary Harris was avenged, as far
as the death of a deliberate villain can avenge the destruction of a
pure woman's life.