“From that moment George and myself rarely met, and never as friends. I had been brought to hate him--he knew the fact--and although he was innocent of all wrong to me, as I know to-day, made no effort to win my regard again. He was as proud as myself--he said nothing--and our paths here separated forever. “Such is the necessary introduction, colonel,” said General Davenant, “to the events which I propose to relate.” XIX. THE MURDER. “More than twenty years had passed,” continued General Davenant, “when that old hatred which had been aroused in me, toward George Conway, produced bitter fruits. “I was to be taught by a terrible experience that hatred is a deadly sin; that God punishes it more severely than all other sins, for it is the poison which turns the whole heart to bitterness. I had indulged it--made no effort to banish it--nourished it like a snake in the recesses of my breast, and now God decreed, as a punishment, that the snake should turn and sting me. “To go back for a moment, however. George had married--a year afterward I had imitated him. My wife was an angel upon earth--she is an angel in heaven now--and in comparison with the deep affection which I felt for her, the ephemeral fancy for the young lady whom my rival had married, appeared the veriest trifle. William Conway had also married, and he and George, with their wives, were living at Five Forks. William was judge of the circuit--George managed the estate--and their affection for each other, at this period of their mature manhood, was said to exceed that of their youth. “‘Was said to,’ I say, colonel; for I never saw either of them. All intercourse between “The Pines” and “Five Forks” had ceased twenty years before; and George and William Conway were as much strangers to me, as if we lived in opposite quarters of the globe; for time had not changed--or rather restored--the _entente cordial_ of the past. On the contrary, the feud had become chronic--the gulf separating us had grown deeper. When I met either of the brothers, we exchanged no greetings--passed without looking at each other--and the ‘family feud’ between the Davenants and the Conways was not even alluded to; it had become an old story, and lost its interest. “Such was the condition of things--such the attitude which I occupied toward the two brothers--when the event, which I am about to relate, took place. The event in question was tragic and terrible. It came without warning, to shock the entire surrounding country. One night, on his return from the county seat, whither he was said to have gone upon some matter of business, George Conway was murdered, and his body concealed in some bushes by the roadside.