“And liquor,” said Tom Cary, “is at the top of it.”

“I wish you would keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Anderson, scowling at Cary.

“Oh! never mind; Tom, will have his say.  He’s got a knack of speaking out in meeting.”

“And a very disagreeable knack it is.”

“Oh never mind about Tom, read about the murder, and tend to Tom some other time.”

Eagerly and excitedly they read the dreadful news.  A woman, frail and vicious, was at the bottom; a woman that neither of those men would have married as a gracious gift, was the guilty cause of one murder, and when the law would take its course, two deaths would lie at her door.  Oh, the folly of some men, who, instead of striving to make home a thing of beauty, strength and grace, wander into forbidden pastures, and reap for themselves harvests of misery and disgrace.  And all for what?  Because of the allurements of some idle, vain and sinful woman who has armed herself against the peace, the purity and the progress of the fireside.  Such women are the dry rot in the social fabric; they dig in the dark beneath the foundation stones of the home.  Young men enter their houses, and over the mirror of their lives, comes the shadow of pollution.  Companionship with them unprepares them for the pure, simple joys of a happy and virtuous home; a place which should be the best school for the affections; one of the fairest spots on earth and one of the brightest types of heaven.  Such a home as this, may exist without wealth, luxury or display; but it cannot exist without the essential elements of purity, love and truth.

The story was read, and then came the various comments.

“Oh, it was dreadful,” said one.  “Mr. Loraine belongs to one of the first families in the town; and what a cut it will be to them, not simply that he has been murdered, but murdered where he was—­in the house of Lizzie Wilson.  I knew her before she left husband and took to evil courses.”

“Oh, what a pity, I expect it will almost kill his wife, poor thing, I pity her from the bottom of my heart.”

“Why what’s the matter Harry Richards?  You look as white as a sheet, and you are all of a tremor.”

“I’ve just come from the coroner’s inquest, had to be one of the witnesses.  I am afraid it will go hard with Coots.”

“Why?  What was the verdict of the jury?”

“They brought in a verdict of death by killing at the hands of John Coots.”

“Were you present at the murder?”

“Yes.”

“How did it happen?”

“Why you see John had been spending his money very freely on Lizzie Wilson, and he took it into his head because Loraine had made her some costly presents, that she had treated him rather coolly and wanted to ship him, and so he got dreadfully put out with Loraine and made some bitter threats against him.  But I don’t believe he would have done the deed if he had been sober, but he’s been on a spree for several days and he was half crazy when he did it.  Oh it was heartrending to see Loraine’s wife when they brought him home a corpse.  She gave an awful shriek and fell to the floor, stiff as a poker; and his poor little children, it made my heart bleed to look at them; and his poor old mother.  I am afraid it will be the death of her.”