SENTENCED FOR LIFE. By FLORA HAINES APPONYI, In the Arganaut. (Continued.)

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 2021, 20 June 1885, Page 5 (Supplement)

SENTENCED FOR LIFE. By FLORA HAINES APPONYI, In the Arganaut . (Continued.)

When his ship sailed on her outward voyage, she la3t of the w eek, for the first time in his experience he fell glad to be leaving port. Hi» j own pain and disgrace were subordinate to the flhame ho conceived he had brought upon his hosteea, and the diacord he had oaused in an harmonious company. It might have been some small comfort ii he could have known of certain remarks that were passed after his hurried departure. There had been a momentary hush. Every tongue seem paralyzed. The lion of the evening, with a nobility of heart infinitely superior to the most polished social taot, hastened to throw himself into the breach. He addressed himself to the hostess : u I must beg your pardon, madam, for the needlaes embarrassment I have brought upon your gueat. My ignorance must be my apology. His conduct " — he had turned again to the party at the table, and his bright glance ■seemed to address them severally and collectively — « WR b littla short of heroic Jnpiter 1 " he added, almost under breath, " it wai the braveßt thing I ever saw ! " Phillip Avory felt a deeper interest in his patients than the average physician. When his vessel sailed into port, a fow wsekß later, it was natural for him to make a detour from his usual course to look in upon his small werd on Telegraph Hill. As he neared the house he was gratified to see the little one, with cheeks like roses, playing out of doors. He would hava passed on without stopping, but the small ci-eature looked up into his faoe with a sudden smile, as if in possession of a rare bit of intelligence. " Baby's dyin'." "Dying?" Hia face waa nhooked and grieved. "Yeasir." Ho climbed the steps, and finding the front door ajar, pushed it open and quietly entered. With his first glimpse into the house a eensa of some great change stole over him. A spirit of order and oleanh'ness had taken up its abode in the squalid home. The sound of ft woman's sobs oamo from the inner room, and the poor mother met him at the door, but turned as if in disappointment as she recognised him. The dying baby lay upon the lap of a lady, who raised her face with a quick, imploring look at the sound Of hia footatepß. It was Margery Field. "Can you do nothing to save her? " He shook his head in silence. Already the end was drawing near. Together they solemnly watched the soul fade from the little form, and crossed tho tiny hands upon the innocont breast. As they laid it gently upon the snowy coverlets of the bed, heavy steps sounded without, and a man entered, followed by two policemen. Ho had been ft good-looking fellow in hia younger days, but & dissolute fif o bad set its seal upon his conntQnance, though it still bore a look ot rough good humor that Beemed to promise gently dealing, provided reason maintained its sway. The woman turned to him with a bitter cry: •« Oh, Jim 1 " The man faltered and fell back, as if he could not face what lay before him. His rough features wero convnlsive with Rrief. 11 Not that, Ellen, not that," he said. The young people turned to go. At the door the dootor consulted in a whisper with the oflicers. " How long a leave have they given him? 41 Two hours, Bir." The desolate home stood on the eastern side of the hill, and was one of a succession of dilapidated cabins, burrowing into the hillside in the rear, and mounted on tall stilts ia front. When they had descended the long tlighc of rickety steps leading to the street, the young man lifted his hat to hii oompanion. "Where are you going now?" he asked. 11 To tho city hall, to ask a remission of that man's sentence. He will turn ovm a new leaf if he has a ohanoe. I mean to see that ho has a chanco." She looked at him wistfully, and as she did their eyes met. •• Bus I shall first see you safely home," he addod. His strong arm supported her as they toiled up the steep elevation. Upon its summit there was an abortive attempt at a park, but neither shrub 3 nor plants had thrived on the bleak exposure, and even the grass appeared only in sickly patches. They stopped to rest where a low stone wa<s afforded some protection from tlia merciless wind whioh came wailing in from the sea. A heavy fog hung above their heads and cast its dark shadows over all the city. Looking out upon the water, they bohold the foam-capped breakers oome rushing in from the ocean, dashing themselves with impotent rage against the rooky walla that barred their progress, then falling back, opcut and wasted, into the eddying channel. The dootor turned and faoed his companion. " Now," she said. The word fell like a ohallenge, ana seemed the echo of his own thoughts. The time had come when all must be made dear between them. Abruptly he began and told the story of hia life, not sparing the most painful detail. Like a man struggling with some horrible dream, he described his father's dreadful ciinae, and portrayed with painful stress the social ban and disgrace which had followed thoso who boro his name. The girl listened, with half -averted faoe. He dreaded to read the grief and distrust he knew he had awakened but when she still remained speechless, he arraigned her in her silence ; net in reproach, for he felt that to him belonged all blame, but better the outspoken confession of shattered trust, he told her, than this silence, pragnant with untold bitterness of contemptuous indifference. There were tears on her faoe when she turned it to his. ' " I see nothing but a picture of noble endeavor, suffering, and wrong. Knowing the story imperfectly when we first met, I honored you," Ho c tar ted, but did not speak. "Now heaiing it from your own lips, told with the humility and unsparing self-reproach of a lofty u&ture, honor beoomes reverenoe. He grasped her hands and drew hot to him

for a moment ; then he r»t her r-ently awiy. " The remembrance ot i/hie truul and hono' will make me glad and proud in all the yesir to come— the long years tint I must opend alone. X I could allow another to knowingly assume a share of my burdens, I dare not forget that tho brand of shama must never descend to other and innocent lives." There was a brief silence. Then a voice answered richly reverberant with womanly tenderness and purity : " A child could ask no richer heritage than tho example of such a father. In that moment' a sacred bond of union was consummated between their hearts which all the form Hand ceremonio3 of prießtly sorvice could not consecrate Into the young man's faca slowly dawned a strength and oourage he had never known before. The honor of the woman he loved seemed to purga from his soul some accursed stain, Together they stood on the isolated creet of the hill and watched the fog, like a phantom host, steadily recede to the sea, while the dense veil overhead was suddenly rent apart, and the sunlight, in a flood of gold, poured down upon them like a benediction. He reoalled afterward that, as they passed through a small public square, on their way home, a newsboy bru3h6d by them, crying the evening papers, and, as he passed them, called out ; •• Exciting news from Sin Quontin 1" At another time the young man would have snatched eagerly at the paper and Boauned 1 its columns with morbid apprehension. Had he done ao on this occasion, he would have eeen, in flaring headlines, his father's name. Something in his mother's manner, a3 she met them at the door, impressed him strangely, and arrested the words ha would have Bpoken before th?y left hi 3 lipi. She received the young stranger with singular pride and dignity, free from the embarrassed restraint which usually characterised her. By some intuition she seemed to understand what they had come to tell, and drew the gir! tenderly to her and kissed her. But they saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes, and her son was perplexed to hear her say : 11 Wo must start at once, Philip, or we shall be too late for the boat." Meantime, for some weeks past, San Qaentin had been the seat of considerable agitation. Serious oharges has been preferred against the prison management. A commission of investigation had been appointed by the Legislature, and a court of inquiry had been called. All this waa an old story to tho people of California, but the public had been astonished at the course pursued by this commission. Previous assemblies of the kind had been acoustomed to convene in San Francisco, where the city members could attend to thier business without hindrance and country representatives were enabled to have a good social time, and yet spare an hour or so a day for their official duties; where cigars were plentiful, wine flowed like water, and the accused officials were offered a rare opportunity to prove their good will toward the State by the liberality to her representatives. This commission was composed of a different set of men. There had been a goner al titter in some* circles over their appointment. There was not a professional politician among them. One of them was an editor, a man of aristocratic tastes, but generally accredited with qualities not universally bestowed upon the journalistic fraternity of the Pacific Coast — sound and incorruptible principles. Another w*s a minister, somewhat notable for hie praotioal benevolence. The third and last was a man hopelessly obscure, a small farmer whose fruit ranch lay somewhere along the banks of the Sacramento River. They had gone to work in a raw way from tho firßt. Assuming that the truth could be better ascertained on the Bpot, the commission had been convened at Ran Qnentin, and various members of the political fry whom it behoved to keep a oloae watch over such matters, as well as rich contractors and prominent State officials whoso testimony waa desirable were thereby put to moat scandalous inconvenience. The regular residents of San Quentin, not being deeply interested in the publio welfare, but much concerned where their own interests were involved, did not, as a rule, approve of commissions. Not that they were liable to result in any material change of management, but the large outlay made upon such occasions by their guardians had to be retrenched somewhere ; and a very appreciable deoline in the quantity and quality of their rations was usually noticed. Moreover, at such times it was customary to observe more rigidly the existing law 3 of prison government, and greater difficulty waß enoountered in smuggling liquor, tobacco, and opium within the gato3. As a consequence, the price of these luxuries inside of the establishment took leaps that would have delighted a Pine-street speculator, often advanoing a hundred per cent, in twenty-four hours. Upon the appointment of the present commission, mutterings deep and ominoua were heard among the more reckless of tha prisoners. The most bitter protests came from the long-termers. However necessary for the proteotibn of society, the life-sentence pronounced upon a mau frequently has the effect of eradicating every redeeming trait in his character. Hope is a necessary stimulus to worthy effort, and the man whose existence is doomed to be spent within prison walls is a man without hope. Among these men a hideous plot was conceived, * desperate plot, involving destruction of life and property, with no small peril to themselves. In the long' building occupied by the officers and faoing the wharf, separated from the prisoners' quarters by the open passagg, was a cellar, used at that time for storage of ammunition. Windows and doors were heavily barred, and guards stationed near to resist seizure in the event of a concerted revolt. A prisoner named Dugan occupied a oell in the Bouth wing of the prison quadrangle, abutting on this pas3age-way. Dugan was a heavy-browed, stolid-looking fellow, who had so distinguished himself in various sanguinary encounters a3 to earn the sobriquet of "Red-handed Mike." This man, with several of his comrades, determined to explode the magazine. They were reckless men, and although dimly realizing tho peril to which they were exposing themselves, they did not hesitate to take the risk. It was enough for them that in the inevitable pause which would ensue lay .some chance for esoape and freedom. That some fatuity had located this store of explosives directly beneath the officers' diningroom, now liberally patronized by the commission and its attendant satellites, enhanced the zest with whioh they laid their plans. " We'll teach them to send us their commissions," they said. Cunningly Dugan and his cell mate went to work, tunnelling from their call down beneath the wall and in the direction of tho dangerous stores. Working craftily at night with various implements smuggled from workship and table, it was easy to oonoeal their progress. The cell was located that there was small possibility of escape by underground avenues, and thus raroly subjected to examination by the guard. The dirt excavated was removed by their confederates. At length the job was successfully completed and tho conspirators made ready for the grand finale. Philip Avery had been taken into their con fidenoe as a matter of necessity rather than choice. Hiacell adjoined Dugan's in Murderers' Row. It would have been impossible to oarry out their plana without anakening his suspicions, and they argued that it waß better to have him enlisted as mend than foe. But they distrusted him, aud resolved to give

lim no opportunity to betray them. lie knew hat J.n was under vigilant surveillance, and -hat if he attempted to bpeak with a guard, TOugjanca mi?ht follow so swift and sure that his object would be frustrated. Day after day went by. Everywhere hia footbtepa were dogged. Their watch was never once relaxed. The day and hour arrived for the fruition of their plans. A3 a last resort he feigned sickness and kept his cell. Tho conspirators had manufactured a slow fuse, and planned to light it just before twelve o'clook at noon, when the prisoners wero marshalled to their dining-hall in a distant angle of the building. As the last man filed by Philip Avery's cell, he cast an ugly look of suspicion upon its occupant. Dugan had never liked this man who held himself aloof from fellowfl every way his equal, who never indulged in an oath or craoked an obscene jest, and who now obstinately stuck to his cell with the menace of death and destruction near by. He needed watching. As the sound of their footsteps died in the distance, Philip Avery rose with feverish haste from his bed, and hailed a guard close by. "For God'a sake, let me into No. 1. Then run and tell the yard overseer to clean out the officers' dining-room. A fuse has been laid to the gunpowder. I'll do all that can bo dono to Btop it." He did not atop to caloulate his own chances. Had he done so he would probably have regarded his own life little worthy of preservation. Perhap3 some dim fancy flitted through his mind that if he saved these lives at the risk of hi 3 own, the , old sin might in some way be blotted out. On hands and knees ho crept along the narrow excavation, at times blinded by a fall of loose earth. He reached the end at list, caught at a spark of fire wedged in between two casks, and crushed it beneath his heel, just as a warning splutter of flame told him that in another moment he would have been too late. Faint and weak from the strain of exoitement through which he had passed, he crept back, and was climbing through the narrow aperture which led into Dagans cell, when he confronted a heavy-browed, brutal face, eying him with tigerish ferocity. •'Oh God I" Quick, sharp thrusts m breast, and throat, and head. Warm streams flooding hia face and body, and dripping on his nerveless hands. Then a merciful unoonsciousnesß which stole over him like sleep. Out of the lawn in front of the prison gates, an excited group .of men discussed tho danger from which they had just escaped. Men of prominence and worth were there, for an important stage in the proceedings had been reached, and numerous witnesses summoned who were in attendance. They were not callous-hearted men, and they valued their lives. Some thought tenderly of wife and children it would have bean hard to leave. A bruißed and mangled form was brought out on a stretcher, and a whisper lan around. " The man who extinguished the fuse." Witnessing the tortures that raoked the frame of the convict who had saved them, their hearts grew sore and pitiful. There was a whispered consultation between the governor of the State, the warden, and the Burgeon. The injuries were fatal. He could not live, at most, but twenty-four hours. " He must die a free man." It was the Governor who spoke. The little group nodded approval. Yards of red tape must first be covered, a petition drawn up and signed, an endorsement made by the court in which hia sentence had been passed, and other legal formalities observed. When the documents were finally ready for the Governor's signature, the same boat that conveyed them brought the prisoner'B family. p Philip Avery had grown easier and quiet when they arrived. There oame • new light into his face as his wife knelt beside him — hia wife, faithful through so many years of shcine, misery and despair. It was something to have at last this chance of atonement, to leave her some legacy besides shame and obloquy; to raise Mb maimed hand and plaoß in hers this document whose import he " For noble and heroic service rendered the State and her public servants, for which no adequate recompence can ever be made, this full and free pardon is issued to Philip Avery." She read no further, for her eyes were blinded with sudden tears, the first ehe had shed for many years. He lived until sundown. Lived to feel the pressure of more than one friendly hand, and to hear words of rsspect and gratitade falling like dew upon his soul, parohing for years beneath a withering sense of guilt and shame. Lived to bless his son, who had been true to a noble standard of action, and to know as hia daughter the pure-hearted girl who would henceforth wear the name he had redeemed. And when the last rays of the setting sun trausfovmed the bay into a sheet of molten gold, and illuminated the hilla beyond with a auddon radiance, his eyes closed, and, with a smile on his wan face, ha sank into the sleep that in this world knows no awakening.