CHAPTER XXXVII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 160, 28 August 1886, Page 7

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE LAST OF THE DAGGERS. They did not want to tell her then he was dead, so the hermit lifted her and said : "1 am your Uncle Paul. Come with me, my child." He took her in his arms and carried her to her own room. ♦• Put her to bed, Mary," said Paul Berisford. "'Poor child, another would have been crushed into the grave by the cruel blowß that havo fallen on her heart." The hermit kissed Miriam and went quietly out ; and from the bed on which Mary laid her, she was destined not to rise till she bad looked into the abyss of death, from which only the voice of love could call her back. Paul Bex isford found Mr Edwards, Charles Spencer, and Wilson Bly, Hans, and Shirley Benson still standing about 'the chair in which his brother appeared to sleep. " Gentlemen," said Paul Berieford, solemnly, " this man was my brother, and in his death he hae solved the myßteryfcthat has so troubled us." " Your brother I" said Mr Edwards, in surprise." " Yes,my brother. Sit down, and let me tell you all here in the presence of the dead, for on the evidence before you depends the freedom of Clarence Ashworth." The first to explain his own conduct and his interests in the case, Paul Berisford told the story of his own early life. He left the United States Army and went to India, because the lady whom he deeired to wed refused to marry a soldier. That lady was Clarence A-shworth'a mother. For fifteen years he fought in the service of the Bast India Company, glorying in the profusion of blood, and winning fame and honours. But one day, it was bid forty-first birthday, he woke up to the realisation that he was a butcher, and he toek an oath that he would Kye in peace henceforth witk his fellow-men. With this resolution came a yearning for the home of hit) boyhood. " I had been reported dead to my family year* before, and I did'not care to undeceive them. Followed by a faithful Hindoo servant and hia young wife,l came back to the valleys ot Willoivemoc, in one of which I made my home.*' " ' : •« Proud of my name, I did not wish to pose as an impoßfcbrby taking another. In the Dbecan wais I won the title of Doo-ak, or leader. By this 1 name my ' servant ' called :.me »t first, till I avoided to be" known by 'bb name, bgtjf ro^fti^i you Van rVadity ' f «oe

h6W Dou-ak became corrupted into * Duke ? - JT~ and * Jooke. • Now let me tell you the story I < ot the daggers,' and I'll l.aVe done. ' ' ' I , "Paul Berieford knew all about theaewea- »> pone. There was one kept at the Manor "when he was a' boy, it was an 1 heirloom of rju his grandfather; and it waa said that there ' *■ * wa* only one other weapon like it in the world. ' ' He recalled' that this weapon made a great impression on his brother the doctor ; but for years before he left America the box A containing it was lost sight of. He would not pretend to explain how hiis brother, in the somnambulistic state, knew tho whereabouts of thin weapon, which only dwelt ew an indistinct memory in hia 'mind Ti when' awake. Ye ,As a bey' the doctor never entered the room known as the general's chamber, fox* the servants had frightened him into the kil belief that it was haunted. • fftf O t *' And I have every reason to believe that he never entered it when in his right mind tal since then, which will account for bis pa ignorance of his fatal possession. But I thi have given perhaps more time to this than PL I should when more important inattera are before u».' My brother wa« the unconscious perpetrator of the crime with which Clarence Ash worth i« now charged, and our „ first duty ie to do jaetico to the wronged." -^ ( •' You are right, Mr Berisford," Baid Mr Edwards ; " and let me cay that I am thankful for what you have ia t#ld us, and for the manner in ftg which your high convictions of right have Qn led you to act in the unfortunate matter. wj But speaking for myself, I must confes« that {c) lam to astounded at the startling nature of j j these revelations as to be unable to think mi intelligently at thi* time." jo 11 Don't you think we'd better have the ou coroner again ?" asked Shirley Benson feel- ai , ing that he must assert himself. t^ With a glance of haughty contempt at the young wretch, Paul Berißford roue to hie feet. | lt "Benaon," he «aid, "you mu»fc leave - this house at once and never dare to enter *^ it again. You have known— must have fell known— that Clarence Ashworth was innocent, yet to further your own ends you a^ have worked to convict him, like the fQ cowardly wretch that you are. And with cc you must go Madame Barron, your partner in infamy. I shall hear no explanation, eir ; I overheard you and her planning ' t { and exchanging confidences. Go !" lo Paul Berisford pointed to the door, and tl through it the alarmed Shirley fled, never __ to set foot in Berißford Manor again. u Thecoronor did come the next morning, and acting under Mr Edwards's ndvica, the q orowd, who had heard of the doctor's death, Q , was shut out of the house and not permitted n to enter the grounds. Miriam was placed under the care of b doctor, who declared that sh« would bo in no condition to give evidence for week?, if, " indeed, she survived the fever that was then £ on her. r( The examination of the other witness waa u conducted with all the secrecy consistent t| with law, and, aa a consequence, the innocence of Clarence Ashworth was eatab- a lUhei. p That afternoon Mr Edwards and Charles Spencer drove to Sterling, and after making the proper arrangements with the authori- u ties, they hurried to the gao lwith the order -jfor Clarence* release. jj The sheriff waa a much disappointed man, but Clarence shook hands with him leaving, for he was in no mood to feel . angry, not even at Shirley Benaon. As they drove back to Willowemoc. t Charles Spencer put his arms round Clarence, and said : v "Cousin Clarence, I was always proud of you, but now lam prouder thnn ever. You r were right in not telling us your secret, but. c thanks to your old friend, we have learned it for ourselves." „ 1 On the day that Dr Berisford was buried, • Madame Barron, a crushed and die- > appointed woman, left the Manor, and as ( she was never heard of again, her fate is in ( doubt. Shirley Benson returned home after the . > funeral ; and when his conduct became * r known, he was shunned by hi§ old friends. He sought to allay his troubles he Gould never* believe they wer« deserved by drink- ( . ing to excess ; and, as a consequence, he went down to a drunsard's grave within ( t two years. [ The very day Madame Barron lefb the , 3 Manor, Mre Aehworth cam© there, the ne-vre ( t of her son's innocence having filled her with strength in a miraculous way. ; I She did not think that the Manor, the abode of her ance«tors, vraa henceforth to be her home, .yet auch wae the case. 3 She devoted herself to Miriam till the a brave girl had regained her strength. f Is it necessary to add what followed soon after ? ' . On the very first day of tho next year — an excellent and a >cry popular time to make good promises— Miriam promised from this time on to " love and honour " Clarence 8 Afhveorth till death did them part, and oa his own behalf he pledged himself before i Heaven to do the same by her The old glory and brightness has returned , r to Berisford Manor, where Mr and Mrs Ashworth with their children and the children's 5_ grandmother make their home for the n great ar part of each year. B Mary Munn is the housekeeper, and Hans Munn, her husband, with many men under it him, superintends the estate. h It was their example that prompted , c Minnie to go and do likewise ; but there 1% are other, if not brighter, maids in her II place. Paul Bedford's secret being no longer a 98 Hecret, the people now call him " General," Jy and lift their hats where- they only nodded in before. With his faithful servant within call, Paul Beri9ford pereists in the life in which | he found ao perfect a peace. L t, But he is no longer the Hermit of WUlowemoc, dwelling in lo^ huts. n He has built a little house, and when some of Miriam's children are not with him ie he goes to them. And in the Manor he de d lights to talk with her who so influenced he his rasher days, and whose presence brings euch a calm to the evenincr of his life. 1( j And the daggers ? Well, a great bonfire Id had been built by the villages to celebrate h e the re'urn of Clarence Ashworth and his a$ wife. While it wa« still blazing high, Paul c ! Berisford went to the fire, carrying a box under each arm, and tossed them into the ie flames, where should perish all things that were ever made for the destruction of a cc fellow- being's life. he the end.

Judge'—" The officer eaya you were drunk last night and tell down on the street Can you explain that matter?" Prisoner (with dignity)—" The cause of my fall ? your Honor, was not attributable to liquor, but to circumstances over which I had no control." Jddge''(in surprise)— ♦♦ What circumstances do you allude to ?" 'Prisoner (sadly) — ••My leg«,';your Honor."— "Lowell Citizen." There are three kisses in a world, of' miscellateoas kisses which may* be counted 1 true— the liiss'the mother' lightly lays upon h'e*r baby's dewy 1 lips, the kiss f the mother gives her boy as he goes forth into the world, ! andthekies we press upon the 1 still,' 'pale 'lip*B bfthedeVd; ! Allthe rfcst i'ate like the fHfowberrles'inf HfowberrIes'in the bottom of the basket- to ;<W#t*ke f a with suspicion.*'* "••«*«•- - a i l