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I've had a hell upon earth since I killed Whyte." "Then you acknowledge your guilt?" said Brian, quietly. Moreland shrugged his shoulders. "I told you I wasn't a coward," he answered, coolly. "Yes, I did it; it was Whyte's own fault. When I met him that night he told me how Frettlby wouldn't let him marry his daughter, but said he'd make him, and showed me the marriage certificate.
You were right in your conjecture that I knew something likely to lead to the detection of Whyte's murderer; but when I tell you my reasons for keeping such a thing secret, I am sure you will not blame me. Mind you, I do not say that I know who committed the murder; but I have suspicions very strong suspicions and I wish to God Rosanna Moore had died before she told me what she did.
This, however, was not to be, and he was thunderstruck when Whyte arrived from England with the information that his first wife still lived, and that the daughter of his second was illegitimate. Sooner than risk exposure, Frettlby agreed to anything; but Whyte's demands became too exorbitant, and he refused to comply with them.
"MESSRS. WHYTE'S FIRST COLLISION. William Whyte deposed that 30 natives were present, and they were all killed but two, and one of these it is reported died an hour after of his wounds. "DARLOT. One native shot. Two natives shot near Portland Bay by the servants of the Messrs. Henty.
Whyte's burial, telling him of the death of his mother. Meanwhile, Redfeather and Jacques both of whom at their young master's earnest solicitation, agreed to winter at Stoney Creek cultivated each other's acquaintance sedulously.
The secret of Whyte's murder, and the reason for it, is known to you, but you refuse, even in the interests of justice, to reveal it why, I don't know; but we all have our little faults, and from an amiable though mistaken sense of shall I say duty? you refuse to deliver up the man whose cowardly crime so nearly cost you your life.
"D your friends, sir!" cried Moreland, furiously, rising from his seat. Calton laughed, and introduced Mr. Moreland to the others. "Dr. Chinston, Mr. Kilsip, and Mr. Fitzgerald." "Fitzgerald," gasped Moreland, growing pale. "I I what's that?" he shrieked, as he saw Whyte's coat, all weather-stained, lying on a chair near him, and which he immediately recognised.
"MESSRS. WHYTE'S FIRST COLLISION. William Whyte deposed that 30 natives were present, and they were all killed but two, and one of these it is reported died an hour after of his wounds. "DARLOT. One native shot. Two natives shot near Portland Bay by the servants of the Messrs. Henty.
The church might boast of a grand organ, with fifty-seven stops, all which we heard played by the ingenious organist. We then returned to Miss Whyte's for the evening, ate a mighty dinner, and battled cold weather as we might.
Fitzgerald sayin' was, 'You're mad it ain't true, an' she ses, 'S'elp me it is, Whyte's got the proof, an' then he sings out, 'My poor girl, and she ses, 'Will you marry her now? and ses he, 'I will, I love her more than ever; and then she makes a grab at him, and says, 'Spile his game if you can, and says he, 'What's yer name? and she says " "What?" asked Madge, breathlessly.
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