The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

such a painful position. Had it not been for my fore-knowledge, I should have loved Mrs. Fleming for her beauty, her goodness and her devotion to my dear old friend. I could

of appealing to herself, and it

Royal. He asked me if I would take Mrs. Fleming out; she had complained of headache, and he thought a walk dow

oaming, and then we went at once to the river, for no other rea

stant woods, on the bank where we stood, on the tall, noble trees, on the wild flowers and blossoms. Better almost than anything else I remember a great patch of scarlet poppies that grew in the long green grass; even now, although this took pl

the sunset over the river, Mr. Fo

sy glow from the sky and the river seemed to f

ask! I would rather have died, yet my sense of justice urged me on. Was it fa

so intently about, Mr

tell you?

d. "I am sure the subject is ve

again. I steeled my heart by thinking of the tiny baby face I had seen

king, Mrs. Fleming," I said; "but

voice, and she gathered the

I began, "who loved each other with a love

ing smile; I saw an expression o

Lance love each other, there is someth

at that time the same hopes and fears. They were parted for a time, one was bus

ely or more slowly than that sweet smile of interest

as I have said, for his health, and either fate o

nning river, where the crimson clouds were reflected like blood;

the waves and the shrill voice of the wind as it played amongst the wooden piles. He sat silent, absorbed in though

e figure by my side seemed to have suddenly turned to stone. I dare not look at he

in silence; then she became restless, and l

not see the dark form in the corner; she raised

gh nor moan, but more pitiful than either; the poppies lay still o

"and the man, as it fell, sa

to the river. I held her arms, and she remained motionless; the

w it as plainly as I see the river here. He heard her as plainly as I hear the river here. She cried aloud as she went away, 'Oh, my God, if I dare-if I dare!' Can you tell what happened? Listen how wonderful are the ways of God, who hates murder and punishes it. She fl

in the grass. Oh, Heaven, be pitiful to all w

alt, bitter waters of the green sea all night. Now comes the horror, Mrs. Fleming. When the man, who saw the scene went after some

ound that was li

asely deceived-he could not hide a murder; yet the woman was so lovely, so lovable; she was seemingly so good, so chari

ted until I saw that I must break it. She lay moti

one in that man's place

hiter, more despairing, more ghast

. "Oh, Heaven, how often have I d

was you

ery wind that has whispered has told it aloud ever since. If I hide it from you someone else will start up and tell. If I deny it, then the

ept before. I wished that Heaven had made anyone else her judge than me. Then she sat up facing me, and I wondered what t

hat passed after,

as the half sullen

Brighton paper, or look in

she re

assed. How the people had stood round the little baby, and th

she asked, and I saw her

ul and kind; one kissed the little face, dried it, and

ng silence, a terrible few m

t was m

pair; she folded her hand

h, Lance! my love, Lance! my love, Lance! You will not tell him?" she cried, turning to me with impassioned appeal. "You w

e heart and the home where she had nestled in safety so long; she would die; she would do anything, if only I would not tell him. He had loved and trusted her so-she

were, the passionate,

"Let us talk reasonably. We cann

d I could not still her cries; they w