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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:59 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:36:59 -0700 |
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diff --git a/11452-h/11452-h.htm b/11452-h/11452-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d1c956 --- /dev/null +++ b/11452-h/11452-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4264 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories By American Authors VI, by C.H. White. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 100%; font-size: 8pt; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11452 ***</div> + +<h1>Stories by American Authors VI.</h1> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<a href="#THE_VILLAGE_CONVICT"><b>THE VILLAGE CONVICT.</b></a><br> + <a href="#THE_DENVER_EXPRESS"><b>THE DENVER EXPRESS.</b></a><br> + <a href="#THE_MISFORTUNES_OF_BRO_THOMAS_WHEATLEY"><b>THE MISFORTUNES OF BRO' THOMAS WHEATLEY.</b></a><br> + <a href="#THE_HEARTBREAK_CAMEO"><b>THE HEARTBREAK CAMEO.</b></a><br> + <a href="#MISS_EUNICE'S_GLOVE"><b>MISS EUNICE'S GLOVE.</b></a><br> + <a href="#BROTHER_SEBASTIAN'S_FRIENDSHIP"><b>BROTHER SEBASTIAN'S FRIENDSHIP.</b></a><br> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>NEW YORK</p> + +<p>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</p> + +<p>1891</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="THE_VILLAGE_CONVICT"></a><h2>THE VILLAGE CONVICT.</h2> + + +<h2>BY C.H. WHITE.</h2> + +<p>"Wonder 'f Eph's got back; they say his sentence run out yisterday."</p> + +<p>The speaker, John Doane, was a sunburnt fisherman, one of a circle of +well-salted individuals who sat, some on chairs, some on boxes and +barrels, around the stove in a country store.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Captain Seth, a middle-aged little man with earrings; "he +come on the stage to-noon. Wouldn't hardly speak a word, Jim says. +Looked kind o' sot and sober."</p> + +<p>"Wall," said the first speaker, "I only hope he won't go to burnin' us +out of house and home, same as he burnt up Eliphalet's barn. I was +ruther in hopes he'd 'a' made off West. Seems to me I should, in his +place, hevin' ben in State's-prison."</p> + +<p>"Now, I allers bed quite a parcel o' sympathy for Eph," said a short, +thickset coasting captain, who sat tilted back in a three-legged chair, +smoking lazily. "You see, he wa'n't but about twenty-one or two then, +and he was allus a mighty high-strung boy; and then Eliphalet did act +putty ha'sh, foreclosin' on Eph's mother, and turnin' her out o' the +farm, in winter, when everybody knew she could ha' pulled through by +waitin'. Eph sot great store by the old lady, and I expect he was putty +mad with Eliphalet that night."</p> + +<p>"I allers," said Doane, "approved o' his plan o' leadin' out all the +critters, 'fore he touched off the barn. 'Taint everybody 't would hev +taken pains to do that. But all the same, I tell Sarai't I feel kind o' +skittish, nights, to hev to turn in, feelin' 't there's a convict in the +place."</p> + +<p>"I hain't got no barn to burn," said Captain Seth; "but if he allots my +henhouse to the flames, I hope he'll lead out the hens, and hitch 'em to +the apple trees, same's he did Eliphalet's critters. Think he ought to +deal ekally by all."</p> + +<p>A mild general chuckle greeted this sally, cheered by which the speaker +added:</p> + +<p>"Thought some o' takin' out a policy o' insurance on my cockerel."</p> + +<p>"Trade's lookin' up, William," said Captain Seth to the storekeeper, as +some one was heard to kick the snow off his boots on the door-step. +"Somebody's found he's got to hev a shoestring 'fore mornin'."</p> + +<p>The door opened, and closed behind a strongly made fellow of twenty-six +or seven, of homely features, with black hair, in clothes which he had +outgrown. It was a bitter night, but he had no coat over his flannel +jacket. He walked straight down the store, between the dry-goods +counters, to the snug corner at the rear, where the knot of talkers sat; +nodded, without a smile, to each of them, and then asked the storekeeper +for some simple articles of food, which he wished to buy. It was Eph.</p> + +<p>While the purchases were being put up, an awkward silence prevailed, +which the oil-suits hanging on the walls, broadly displaying their arms +and legs, seemed to mock, in dumb show.</p> + +<p>Nothing was changed, to Eph's eyes, as he looked about. Even the +handbill of familiar pattern:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"STANDING WOOD FOR SALE.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">APPLY TO J. CARTER, ADMIN'R,"</span><br> + +<p>seemed to have always been there.</p> + +<p>The village parliament remained spellbound. Mr. Adams tied up the +purchases and mildly inquired:</p> + +<p>"Shall I charge this?"</p> + +<p>Not that he was anxious to open an account, but that he would probably +have gone to the length of selling Eph a barrel of molasses "on tick" +rather than run any risk of offending so formidable a character.</p> + +<p>"No," said Eph; "I will pay for the things."</p> + +<p>And having put the packages into a canvas bag, and selected some +fish-hooks and lines from the show-case, where they lay environed by +jackknives, jewsharps, and gum-drops—dear to the eyes of his +childhood—he paid what was due, said "Good-night, William," to the +storekeeper, and walked steadily out into the night.</p> + +<p>"Wall," said the skipper, "I am surprised! I strove to think o' suthin' +to say, all the time he was here, but I swow I couldn't think o' +nothin'. I couldn't ask him if it seemed good to git home, nor how the +thermometer had varied in different parts o' the town where he'd been. +Everything seemed to fetch right up standin' to the State's-prison."</p> + +<p>"I was just goin' to say, 'How'd ye leave everybody?'" said Doane; "but +that kind o' seemed to bring up them he'd left. I felt real bad, though, +to hev the feller go off 'thout none on us speakin' to him. He's got a +hard furrer to plough; and yet I don't s'pose there's much harm in him, +'f Eliphalet only keeps quiet."</p> + +<p>"Eliphalet!" said a young sailor, contemptuously. "No fear o' him! They +say he's so sca't of Eph he hain't hardly swallowed nothin' for a week."</p> + +<p>"But where will he live?" asked a short, curly-haired young man, whom +Eph had seemed not to recognize. It was the new doctor, who, after +having made his way through college and "the great medical school in +Boston," had, two years before, settled in this village.</p> + +<p>"I believe," said Mr. Adams, rubbing his hands, "that he wrote to +Joshua Carr last winter, when his mother died, not to let the little +place she left, on the Salt Hay Road, and I understand that he is going +to make his home there. It is an old house, you know, and not worth +much, but it is weather-tight, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Speakin' of his writin' to Joshua," said Doane, "I have heard such a +sound as that he used to shine up to Joshua's Susan, years back. But +that's all ended now. You won't catch Susan marryin' no jailbirds."</p> + +<p>"But how will he live?" said the doctor. "Will anybody give him work?"</p> + +<p>"Let him alone for livin'," said Doane. "He can ketch more fish than any +other two men in the place—allers seemed to kind o' hev a knack o' +whistlin' 'em right into the boat. And then Nelson Briggs, that settled +up his mother's estate, allows he's got over a hundred and ten dollars +for him, after payin' debts and all probate expenses, and that and the +place is all he needs to start on."</p> + +<p>"I will go to see him," said the doctor to himself, as he went out upon +the requisition of a grave man in a red tippet, who had just come for +him. "He doesn't look so very dangerous, and I think he can be tamed. I +remember that his mother told me about him."</p> + +<p>Late that night, returning from his seven miles' drive, as he left the +causeway, built across a wide stretch of salt-marsh, crossed the +rattling plank bridge and ascended the hill, he saw a light in the +cottage window, where he had often been to attend Aunt Lois. "I will +stop now," said he. And, tying his horse to the front fence, he went +toward the kitchen door. As he passed the window, he glanced in. A lamp +was burning on the table. On a settle, lying upon his face, was +stretched the convict, his arms beneath his head. The canvas bag lay on +the floor beside him. "I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>A few days later Dr. Burt was driving in his sleigh with his wife along +the Salt Hay Road. It was a clear, crisp winter forenoon. As they neared +Eph's house, he said:</p> + +<p>"Mary, suppose I lay siege to the fort this morning. I see a curl of +smoke rising from the little shop in the barn. He must be making himself +a jimmy or a dark-lantern to break into our vegetable cellar with."</p> + +<p>"Well," said she, "I think it would be a good plan; only, you know, you +must be very, very careful not to hint, even in the faintest way, at his +imprisonment. You mustn't so much as <i>suspect</i> that he has ever been +away from the place. People hardly dare to speak to him, for fear he +will see some reference to his having been in prison, and get angry."</p> + +<p>"You shall see my sly tact," said her husband, laughing. "I will be as +innocent as a lamb. I will ask him why I have not seen him at the +Sabbath-school this winter."</p> + +<p>"You may make fun," said she, "but you will end by taking my advice, +all the same. Now, do be careful what you say."</p> + +<p>"I will," he replied. "I will compose my remarks carefully upon the back +of an envelope and read them to him, so as to be absolutely sure. I will +leave on his mind an impression that I have been in prison, and that he +was the judge that tried me."</p> + +<p>He drove in at the open gate, hitched his horse in a warm corner by the +kitchen door, and then stopped for a moment to enjoy the view. The +situation of the little house, half a mile from any other, was beautiful +in summer, but it was bleak enough in winter. In the small front +dooryard stood three lofty, wind-blown poplars, all heading away from +the sea, and between them you could look down the bay or across the +salt-marshes, while in the opposite direction were to be seen the roofs +and the glittering spires of the village.</p> + +<p>"It is social for him here, to say the least," said the doctor, as he +turned and walked alone to the shop. He opened the door and went in. It +was a long, low lean-to, such as farmers often furnish for domestic +work, with a carpenter's bench, a grind-stone, and a few simple tools. +It was lighted by three square windows above the bench. An air-tight +stove, projecting its funnel through a hole in one of the panes, gave +out a cheerful crackling.</p> + +<p>Eph, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands in his pockets, was standing, his +back against the bench, surveying, with something of a mechanic's eye, +the frame of a boat which was set up on the floor.</p> + +<p>He looked up and colored slightly. The doctor took out a cigarette, lit +it, sat down on the bench, and smoked, clasping one knee in his hands +and eying the boat.</p> + +<p>"Centre-board?" he asked, at length.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Eph.</p> + +<p>"Cat-rig?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Going fishing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I was brought up to sail a boat," said the doctor, "and I often go +fishing in summer, when I get a chance. I shall want to try your boat +some time."</p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>"The timbers are not seasoned, are they? They look like pitch-pine, just +out of the woods. Won't they warp?"</p> + +<p>"No. Pitch-pine goes right in, green. I s'pose the pitch keeps it, if +it's out of the sun."</p> + +<p>"Where did you cut it?"</p> + +<p>Eph colored a little.</p> + +<p>"In my back lot."</p> + +<p>The doctor smoked on calmly, and studied the boat.</p> + +<p>"I don't know you," said Eph, relaxing a little.</p> + +<p>"Good reason," said the doctor. "I've only been here two years;" and +after a moment's pause, he added: "I am the doctor here, now. You've +heard of my father, Dr. Burt, of Broad River?"</p> + +<p>Eph nodded assent; everybody knew him, all through the country;—a +fatherly old man, who rode on long journeys at everybody's call, and +never sent in his bills.</p> + +<p>The visitor had a standing with Eph at once.</p> + +<p>"Doctors never pick at folks," he said to himself—"at any rate, not old +Dr. Burt's son."</p> + +<p>"I used to come here to see your mother," said the doctor, "when she was +sick. She used to talk a great deal about you, and said she wanted me to +get acquainted with you, when your time was out."</p> + +<p>Eph started, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>"She was a good woman, Aunt Lois," added the doctor; "one of the best +women I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"I don't want anybody to bother himself on my account," said Eph. "I ask +no favors."</p> + +<p>"You will have to take favors, though," said the doctor, "before the +winter is over. You will be careless and get sick; you have been living +for a long time entirely in-doors, with regular hours and work and food. +Now you are going to live out-of-doors, and get your own meals, +irregularly. You didn't have on a thick coat the other night, when I saw +you at the store."</p> + +<p>"I haven't got any that's large enough for me," said Eph, a little less +harshly, "and I've got to keep my money for other things."</p> + +<p>"Then look out and wear flannel shirts enough," said the doctor, "if +you want to be independent. But before I go, I want to go into the +house. I want my wife to see Aunt Lois's room, and the view from the +west window;" and he led the way to the sleigh.</p> + +<p>Eph hesitated a moment, and then followed him.</p> + +<p>"Mary, this is Ephraim Morse. We are going in to see the Dutch tiles I +have told you of."</p> + +<p>She smiled as she held out her mittened hand to Eph, who took it +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>The square front room, which had been originally intended for a +keeping-room, but had been Aunt Lois's bedroom, looked out from two +windows upon the road, and from two upon the rolling, tumbling bay, and +the shining sea beyond. A tall clock, with a rocking ship above the +face, ticked in the corner. The painted floor with bright rag-mats, the +little table with a lacquer work-box, the stiff chairs, and the +old-fashioned bedstead, the china ornaments upon the mantel-piece, the +picture of "The Emeline G. in the Harbor of Canton," were just as they +had been when the patient invalid had lain there, looking from her +pillow out to sea. In twelve rude tiles set around the open fireplace, +the Hebrews were seen in twelve stages of their escape from Egypt. It +would appear from this representation that they had not restricted their +borrowings to the jewels of their oppressors, but had taken for the +journey certain Dutch clothing of the fashion of the seventeenth +century. The scenery, too, was much like that about Leyden.</p> + +<p>"I think," said the doctor's wife, "that the painter was just a little +absent-minded when he put in that beer-barrel. And a wharf, by the Red +Sea!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>"I wish you would conclude to rig your boat with a new sail," said the +doctor, as he took up the reins, at parting. "There isn't a boat here +that's kept clean, and I should like to hire yours once or twice a week +in summer, if you keep her as neat as you do your house. Come in and see +me some evening, and we'll talk it over."</p> + +<p>Eph built his boat, and, in spite of his evident dislike of visitors, +the inside finish and the arrangements of the little cabin were so +ingenious and so novel that everybody had to pay him a visit.</p> + +<p>True to his plan of being independent, he built in the side of the hill, +near his barn, by a little gravelly pond, an ice-house, and, with the +hardest labor, filled it, all by himself. With this supply, he would not +have to go to the general wharf at Sandy Point to sell his fish, with +the other men, but could pack and ship them himself. And he could do +better, in this way, he thought, even after paying for teaming them to +the cars.</p> + +<p>The knowing ones laughed to see that, from asking no advice, he had +miscalculated and laid in three times as much as he could use.</p> + +<p>"Guess Eph cal'lates ter fish with two lines in each hand and 'nother in +his teeth," said Mr. Wing. "He's plannin' out for a great lay o' fish."</p> + +<p>The spring came slowly on, and the first boat that went out that season +was Eph's. That day was one of unmixed delight to him. What a sense of +absolute freedom, when he was fairly out beyond the lightship, with the +fresh swiftness of the wind in his face! What an exquisite consciousness +of power and control, as his boat went beating through the long waves! +Two or three men from another village sailed across his wake. His boat +lay over, almost showing her keel, now high out of water, now settling +between the waves, while Eph stood easily in the stern in his +shirt-sleeves, steering with his knee, smoking a pipe, heaving and +hauling his line astern for bluefish.</p> + +<p>"Takes it nat'ral ag'in, don't he? Stands as easy as ef he was loafin' +on a wharf," said one of the observers. "Expect it's quite a treat to be +out. But they do say he's gittin' everybody's good opinion. They looked +for a regular ruffian when he come home—cuttin' nets, killin' cats, +chasin' hens, gittin' drunk. They say Eliphalet Wood didn't hardly dare +to go ou' doors for a month, 'thout havin' his hired man along. But he's +turned out as peaceful as a little gal."</p> + +<p>One June day, as Eph was slitting bluefish at the little pier which he +had built on the bay-shore, near his rude ice-house, two men came up.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Eph!"</p> + +<p>"Hallo."</p> + +<p>"We've got about sick, tradin' down to the wharf; we can't git no fair +show. About one time in three, they tell us they don't want our fish, +and won't take 'em unless we'll heave 'em in for next to nothin', +and we know there ain't no sense in it. So we just thought we'd slip +down and see ef you wouldn't take 'em, seein's you've got ice, and send +'em up with yourn."</p> + +<p>Eph was taken all aback with this mark of confidence. He would decline +the offer, sure that it sprang from some mere passing vexation.</p> + +<p>"I can't buy fish," said he. "I have no scales to weigh 'em."</p> + +<p>"Then send ourn in separate barrels," said one of them.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't any money to pay you," he said. "I only get my pay once a +month."</p> + +<p>"We'll git tick at William's, and you can settle 'th us when you git +your pay."</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, unable to refuse, "I'll take 'em, if you say so."</p> + +<p>Before the season was over, he had still another customer, and could +have had three or four more, if he had had ice enough. He was strongly +inclined that fall to build a larger ice-house, and although he was a +little afraid of bringing ridicule upon himself in case no fish should +be brought to him the next summer, he decided to do so, on the assurance +of three or four men that they would deal with him. Nobody else had such +a chance, he thought—a pond right by the shore.</p> + +<p>One evening there was a knock at the door of Eliphalet Wood, the owner +of the burned barn. Eliphalet went to the door, but turned pale at +seeing Eph there.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come in, come in!" he panted. "Glad to see you. Walk in. Have a +chair. Take a seat. Sit down."</p> + +<p>But he thought his hour had come: he was alone in the house, and there +was no neighbor within call.</p> + +<p>Eph took out a roll of bills, counted out eighty dollars, laid the money +on the table, and said, quietly:</p> + +<p>"Give me a receipt on account."</p> + +<p>When it was written he walked out, leaving Eliphalet stupefied.</p> + +<p>Joshua Carr was at work, one June afternoon, by the road-side, in front +of his low cottage, by an enormous pile of poles, which he was shaving +down for barrel-hoops, when Eph appeared.</p> + +<p>"Hard at it, Joshua!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" said Joshua, looking up through his steel-bowed spectacles. +"Hev to work hard to make a livin'—though I don't know's I ought to +call it hard, neither; and yet it is rather hard, too; but then, on +t'other hand, 'taint so hard as a good many other things—though there +is a good many jobs that's easier. That's so! That's so!</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"'Must we be kerried to the skies</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">On feathery beds of ease?'</span><br> + +<p>Though I don' know's I oughter quote a hymn on such a matter; but +then—I don' know's there's any partic'lar harm in't, neither."</p> + +<p>Eph sat down on a pile of shavings and chewed a sliver; and the old man +kept on at his work.</p> + +<p>"Hoop-poles goin' up and hoops goin' down," he continued. "Cur'us, ain't +it? But then, I don' know as 'tis; woods all bein' cut off—poles +gittin' scurcer; hoops bein' shoved in from Down East. That don' seem +just right, now, does it—but then, other folks must make a livin', too. +Still, I should think they might take up suthin' else; and yet, they +might say that about me. Understand, I don' mean to say that they +actually do say so; I don' want to run down any man unless I know—"</p> + +<p>"I can't stand this," said Eph to himself; "I don't wonder that they +always used to put Joshua off at the first port, when he tried to go +coasting. They said he talked them crazy with nothing.</p> + +<p>"I'll go into the house and see Aunt Lyddy," he said, aloud. "I'm +loafing this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"All right! all right!" said Joshua. "Lyddy'll be glad to see ye—that +is, as glad as she would be to see anybody," he added, reaching out for +a pole. "Now, I don' s'pose that sounds very well; but still, you know +how she is—she allus likes to hev folks to talk, and then she's allus +sayin' talkin' wears on her; but I ought not to say that to you, because +she allus likes to see you—that is, as much as she likes to see +anybody—in fact, I think, on the whole—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll take my chances," said Eph, laughing, and he opened the gate +and went in.</p> + +<p>Joshua's wife, whom everybody called Aunt Lyddy, was oscillating in a +rocking-chair in the kitchen, and knitting. It was currently reported +that Joshua's habit of endlessly retracting and qualifying every idea +and modification of an idea which he advanced, so as to commit himself +to nothing, was the effect of Aunt Lyddy's careful revision.</p> + +<p>"I s'pose she thought 'twas fun to be talked deef when they was +courtin'," Captain Seth had once sagely remarked. "Prob'ly it sounded +then like a putty piece on a seraphine; but I allers cal'lated she'd git +her fill of it, sooner or later. You most gin'lly git your fill o' one +tune."</p> + +<p>"How are you this afternoon, Aunt Lyddy?" asked Eph, walking in without +knocking, and sitting down near her.</p> + +<p>"So as to be able to keep about," she replied. "It is a great mercy I +ain't afflicted with falling out of my chair, like Hepsy Jones, ain't +it?"</p> + +<p>"I've brought you some oysters," he said. "I set the basket down on the +door-step. I just took them out of the water myself from the bed I +planted to the west of the water-fence."</p> + +<p>"I always heard you was a great fisherman," said Aunt Lyddy, "but I had +no idea you would ever come here and boast of being able to catch +oysters. Poor things! How could they have got away? But why don't you +bring them in? They won't be afraid of me, will they?"</p> + +<p>He stepped to the door and brought in a peck basket full of large, +black, twisted shells, and with a heavy clasp-knife proceeded to open +one, and took out a great oyster, which he held up on the point of the +blade.</p> + +<p>"Try it," he said; and then Aunt Lyddy, after she had swallowed it, +laughed to think what a tableau they had made—a man who had been in the +State-prison standing over her with a great knife! And then she laughed +again.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It popped into my head, supposing Susan should have looked in at the +south window and Joshua into the door, when you was feeding out that +oyster to me, what they would have thought!"</p> + +<p>Eph laughed, too, and, surely enough, just then a stout, light-haired, +rather plain-looking young woman came up to the south window and leaned +in. She had on a sun-bonnet, which had not prevented her from securing a +few choice freckles. She had been working with a trowel in her +flower-garden.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" she said, nodding easily to Eph. "What do you two +always find to laugh about?"</p> + +<p>"Ephraim was feeding me with spoon-meat," said Aunt Lyddy, pointing to +the basket, which looked like a basket of anthracite coal.</p> + +<p>"It looks like spoon-meat," said Susan, and then she laughed too. "I'll +roast some of them for supper," she added, "a new way that I know."</p> + +<p>Eph was not invited to stay to supper, but he stayed, none the less: +that was always understood.</p> + +<p>"Well! Well! Well!" said Joshua, coming to the door-step, and washing +his hands and arms just outside, in a tin basin. "I thought I see you +set down a parcel of oysters—but there was seaweed over 'em, and I don' +know's I could hev said they was oysters; but then, if the square +question hed been put to me, 'Mr. Carr, be them oysters or not?' I +s'pose I should hev said they was; still, if they'd asked me how I +knew—"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, father!" said Aunt Lyddy, "do give poor Ephraim a little +peace. Why don't you just say you thought they were oysters, and done +with it?"</p> + +<p>"Say I <i>thought</i> they was?" he replied, innocently. "I knew well enough +they was—that is—knew? No, I didn't know, but—"</p> + +<p>Aunt Lyddy, with an air of mock resignation, gave up, while Joshua +endeavored to fix, to a hair, the exact extent of his knowledge.</p> + +<p>Eph smiled; but he remembered what would have made him pardon, a +thousand times over, the old man's garrulousness. He remembered who +alone had never failed, once a year, to visit a certain prisoner, at the +cost of a long and tiresome journey, and who had written to that +homesick prisoner kind and cheering letters, and had sent him baskets +of simple dainties for holidays.</p> + +<p>Susan bustled about, and made a fire of crackling sticks, and began to +roast the oysters in a way that made a most savory smell. She set the +table, and then sat down at the melodeon, while she was waiting, and +sang a hymn—for she was of a musical turn, and was one of the choir. +Then she jumped up, and took out the steaming oysters, and they all sat +down.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well!" said her father; "these be good! I didn't s'pose you +had any very good oysters in your bed, Ephraim. But there, now—I don' +s'pose I ought to have said that; that wasn't very polite; but what I +meant was—I didn't s'pose you had any that was <i>real</i> good—though I +don' know but that I've said about the same thing, now. Well, anyway, +these be splendid; they're full as good as those cohogs we had t'other +night."</p> + +<p>"Quahaugs!" said Susan. "The idea of comparing these oysters with +quahaugs!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well! that's so!" said the father. "I didn't say right, did I, +when I said that? Of course, they ain't no comparison—that is—<i>no</i> +comparison—why, of course, they <i>is</i> a comparison between everything, +but then, cohogs don' really compare with oysters! That's true!"</p> + +<p>And then he paused to eat a few.</p> + +<p>He was silent so long at this occupation that they all laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" said he, laying down his fork, and smiling innocently; +"what be you all laughin' at? Not but what I allers like to hev folks +laugh—but then—I didn't see nothin' to laugh at. Still perhaps, they +was suthin' to laugh at that I didn't see; sometimes one man'll be +lookin' down into his plate, all taken up with his vittles, and others +that's lookin' around the room, may see the kittens frolickin', or some +such thing. 'Tain't the fust time I've known all hands to laugh all to +onct, when I didn't see nothin'."</p> + +<p>Susan helped him again, and secured another brief respite.</p> + +<p>"Ephraim," said he, after awhile, "you ain't skilled to cook oysters +like this, I don' believe. You ought to get married! I was sayin' to +Susan t'other day—well, now, mother, have I said an'thing out o' the +way?—well, I don' s'pose 'twas just my place to hev said an'thing about +gittin' married, to Ephraim, seein's—"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, father," said Aunt Lyddy, "that'll do, now. You must let +Ephraim alone, and not joke him about such things."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Susan had hastily gone into the pantry to look for a pie, +which she seemed unable at once to find.</p> + +<p>"Pie got adrift?" called out Joshua. "Seems to me you don' hook on to it +very quick. Now that looks good," he added, when she came out. "That +looks like cookin'! All I meant was, 't Ephraim ought not to be doin' +his own cookin'—that is—if you can call it cookin'—but then, of +course, 'tis cookin'—there's all kinds o' cookin'. I went cook myself, +when I was a boy."</p> + +<p>After supper, Aunt Lyddy sat down to knit, and Joshua drew his chair up +to an open window, to smoke his pipe. In this vice Aunt Lyddy encouraged +him. The odor of Virginia tobacco was a sweet savor in her nostrils. No +breezes from Araby ever awoke more grateful feelings than did the +fragrance of Uncle Joshua's pipe. To Aunt Lyddy it meant quiet and +peace.</p> + +<p>Susan and Eph sat down on the broad flag door-stone, and talked quietly +of the simple news of the neighborhood, and of the days when they used +to go to school, and come home, always together.</p> + +<p>"I didn't much think, then," said Eph, "that I should ever bring up +where I have, and get ashore before I was fairly out to sea!"</p> + +<p>"Jehiel's schooner got ashore on the bar, years ago," said Susan, "and +yet they towed her off, and I saw her this morning, from my chamber +window, before sunrise, all sail set, going by to the eastward."</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," said Eph. "But here—I got mad once, and I +almost had a right to, and I can't get started again; I never shall. I +can get a livin', of course; but I shall always be pointed out as a +jail-bird, and could no more get any footin' in the world than +Portuguese Jim."</p> + +<p>Portuguese Jim was the sole professional criminal of the town, a weak, +good-natured, knock-kneed vagabond, who stole hens, and spent every +winter in the House of Correction as an "idle and disorderly person."</p> + +<p>Susan laughed outright at the picture. Eph smiled, too, but a little +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was more ugliness than anything else," he said, "that made +me come back here to live, where everybody knows I've been in jail and +is down on me."</p> + +<p>"They are not down on you," said Susan. "Nobody is down on you. It's all +your own imagination. And if you had gone anywhere that you was a +stranger, you know that the first thing that you would have done would +have been to call a meetin' and tell all the people that you had burned +down a man's barn, and been in the State's-prison, and that you wanted +them all to know it at the start; and you wouldn't have told them why +you did it, and how young you was then, and how Eliphalet treated your +mother, and how you was going to pay him for all he lost. Here, +everybody knows that side of it. In fact," she added, with a little +twinkle in her eye, "I have sometimes had an idea that the main thing +they don't like is to see you savin' every cent to pay to Eliphalet."</p> + +<p>"And yet it was on your say that I took up that plan," said Eph. "I +never thought of it till you asked me when I was goin' to begin to pay +him up."</p> + +<p>"And you ought to," said Susan. "He has a right to the money—and then +you don't want to be under obligations to that man all your life. Now, +what you want to do is to cheer up and go around among folks. Why, now, +you're the only fish-buyer there is that the men don't watch when he's +weighin' their fish. You'll own up to that, for one thing, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they are good fellows that bring fish to me," he said.</p> + +<p>"They weren't good fellows when they traded at the great wharf," said +Susan. "They had a quarrel down there once a week, reg'larly."</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose they do trust me in that," said Eph. "I can never rub out +that I've been in State's-prison."</p> + +<p>"You don't want to rub it out. You can't rub anything out that's ever +been; but you can do better than rub it out."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Take things just the way they are," said Susan, "and show what can be +done. Perhaps you'll stake a new channel out, for others to follow in +that haven't half so much chance as you have. And that's what you will +do, too," she added.</p> + +<p>"Susan!" he said, "if there's anything I can ever do, in this world or +the next, for you or your folks, that's all I ask for, the chance to do +it. Your folks and you shall never want for anything while I'm alive.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing sure," he added, rising. "I'll live by myself and be +independent of everybody, and make my way all alone in the world; and if +I can make 'em all finally own up and admit that I'm honest with 'em, +I'm satisfied. That's all I'll ever ask of anybody. But there's one +thing that worries me sometimes—that is, whether I ought to come here +so often. I'm afraid, sometimes, that it'll hinder your father from +gettin' work, or—something—for you folks to be friends with me."</p> + +<p>"I think such things take care of themselves," said Susan, quietly. "If +a chip won't float, let it sink."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said Eph, and he walked off, and went home to his echoing +house.</p> + +<p>After that, his visits to Joshua's became less frequent.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>It was a bright day in March—one of those which almost redeem the +reputation of that desperado of a month. Eph was leaning on his fence, +looking now down the bay and now to where the sun was sinking in the +marshes. He knew that all the other men had gone to the town-meeting, +where he had had no heart to intrude himself—that free democratic +parliament where he had often gone with his father in childhood; where +the boys, rejoicing in a general assembly of their own, had played ball +outside, while the men debated gravely within. He recalled the time when +he himself had so proudly given his first vote for President, and how +his father had introduced him then to friends from distant parts of the +town. He remembered how he had heard his father speak there, and how +respectfully everybody had listened to him. That was in the long ago, +when they had lived at the great farm. And then came the thought of the +mortgage, and of Eliphalet's foreclosure, and—</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Eph!"</p> + +<p>It was one of the men from whom he took fish—a plain-spoken, sincere +little man.</p> + +<p>"Why wa'n't you down to town-meet'n'?"</p> + +<p>"I was busy," said Eph.</p> + +<p>"How'd ye like the news?"</p> + +<p>"What news?"</p> + +<p>There was never any good news for him now.</p> + +<p>"Hain't heard who's selected town-clerk?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Had they elected Eliphalet, and so expressed their settled distrust of +him, and sympathy for the man whom he had injured?</p> + +<p>"Who's elected?" he asked, harshly.</p> + +<p>"You be!" said the man; "went in flyin', all hands clappin' and stompin' +their feet!"</p> + +<p>An hour later the doctor drove up, stopped, and walked toward the +kitchen door. As he passed the window, he looked in.</p> + +<p>Eph was lying on his face, upon the settle, as he had first seen him +there, his arms beneath his head.</p> + +<p>"I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>One breezy afternoon, in the following summer, Captain Seth laid aside +his easy every-day clothes, and transformed himself into a stiff +broadcloth image, with a small silk hat and creaking boots. So attired, +he set out in a high open buggy, with his wife, also in black, but with +gold spectacles, to the funeral of an aunt. As they pursued their +jog-trot journey along the Salt Hay Road, and came to Ephraim Morse's +cottage, they saw Susan sitting in a shady little porch, at the front +door, shelling peas, and looking down the bay.</p> + +<p>"How is everything, Susan?" called out Captain Seth; "'bout time for Eph +to be gitt'n' in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, nodding and smiling, and pointing with a pea-pod; +"that's our boat, just coming up to the wharf, with her peak down."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="THE_DENVER_EXPRESS"></a><h2>THE DENVER EXPRESS.</h2> + +<h2>BY A.A. HAYES.</h2> +<br> + +<p>I.</p> +<br> + +<p>Any one who has seen an outward-bound clipper ship getting under way and +heard the "shanty-songs" sung by the sailors as they toiled at capstan +and halliards, will probably remember that rhymeless but melodious +refrain—</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"I'm bound to see its muddy waters</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Yeo ho! that rolling river;</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bound to see its muddy waters</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Yeo ho! the wild Missouri."</span><br> + +<p>Only a happy inspiration could have impelled Jack to apply the adjective +"wild" to that ill-behaved and disreputable river, which, tipsily +bearing its enormous burden of mud from the far North-west, totters, +reels, runs its tortuous course for hundreds on hundreds of miles; and +which, encountering the lordly and thus far well-behaved Mississippi at +Alton, and forcing its company upon this splendid river (as if some +drunken fellow should lock arms with a dignified pedestrian), +contaminates it all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.</p> + +<p>At a certain point on the banks of this river, or rather—as it has the +habit of abandoning and destroying said banks—at a safe distance +therefrom, there is a town from which a railroad takes its departure for +its long climb up the natural incline of the Great Plains, to the base +of the mountains; hence the importance to this town of the large but +somewhat shabby building serving as terminal station. In its smoky +interior, late in the evening and not very long ago, a train was nearly +ready to start. It was a train possessing a certain consideration. For +the benefit of a public easily gulled and enamored of grandiloquent +terms, it was advertised as the "Denver Fast Express;" sometimes, with +strange unfitness, as the "Lightning Express"; "elegant" and "palatial" +cars were declared to be included therein; and its departure was one of +the great events of the twenty-four hours, in the country round about. A +local poet described it in the "live" paper of the town, cribbing from +an old Eastern magazine and passing off as original, the lines—</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"Again we stepped into the street,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A train came thundering by,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Drawn by the snorting iron steed</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Swifter than eagles fly.</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rumbled the wheels, the whistle shrieked,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Far rolled the smoky cloud,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Echoed the hills, the valleys shook,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The flying forests bowed."</span><br> + +<p>The trainmen, on the other hand, used no fine phrases. They called it +simply "Number Seventeen"; and, when it started, said it had "pulled +out."</p> + +<p>On the evening in question, there it stood, nearly ready. Just behind +the great hissing locomotive, with its parabolic headlight and its +coal-laden tender, came the baggage, mail, and express cars; then the +passenger coaches, in which the social condition of the occupants seemed +to be in inverse ratio to their distance from the engine. First came +emigrants, "honest miners," "cow-boys," and laborers; Irishmen, Germans, +Welshmen, Mennonites from Russia, quaint of garb and speech, and +Chinamen. Then came long cars full of people of better station, and last +the great Pullman "sleepers," in which the busy black porters were +making up the berths for well-to-do travellers of diverse nationalities +and occupations.</p> + +<p>It was a curious study for a thoughtful observer, this motley crowd of +human beings sinking all differences of race, creed, and habits in the +common purpose to move Westward—to the mountain fastnesses, the +sage-brush deserts, the Golden Gate.</p> + +<p>The warning bell had sounded, and the fireman leaned far out for the +signal. The gong struck sharply, the conductor shouted, "All aboard," +and raised his hand; the tired ticket-seller shut his window, and the +train moved out of the station, gathered way as it cleared the outskirts +of the town, rounded a curve, entered on an absolutely straight line, +and, with one long whistle from the engine, settled down to its work. +Through the night hours it sped on, past lonely ranches and infrequent +stations, by and across shallow streams fringed with cottonwood trees, +over the greenish-yellow buffalo grass; near the old trail where many a +poor emigrant, many a bold frontiersman, many a brave soldier, had laid +his bones but a short time before.</p> + +<p>Familiar as they may be, there is something strangely impressive about +all night journeys by rail; and those forming part of an American +transcontinental trip are almost weird. From the windows of a +night-express in Europe, or the older portions of the United States, one +looks on houses and lights, cultivated fields, fences, and hedges; and, +hurled as he may be through the darkness, he has a sense of +companionship and semi-security. Far different is it when the long train +is running over those two rails which, seen before night set in, seemed +to meet on the horizon. Within, all is as if between two great seaboard +cities; the neatly dressed people, the uniformed officials, the handsome +fittings, the various appliances for comfort. Without are now long, +dreary levels, now deep and wild cañons, now an environment of strange +and grotesque rock-formations, castles, battlements, churches, statues. +The antelope fleetly runs, and the coyote skulks away from the track, +and the gray wolf howls afar off. It is for all the world, to one's +fancy, as if a bit of civilization, a family or community, its +belongings and surroundings complete, were flying through regions +barbarous and inhospitable.</p> + +<p>From the cab of Engine No. 32, the driver of the Denver Express saw, +showing faintly in the early morning, the buildings grouped about the +little station ten miles ahead, where breakfast awaited his passengers. +He looked at his watch; he had just twenty minutes in which to run the +distance, as he had run it often before. Something, however, travelled +faster than he. From the smoky station out of which the train passed the +night before, along the slender wire stretched on rough poles at the +side of the track, a spark of that mysterious something which we call +electricity flashed at the moment he returned the watch to his pocket; +and in five minutes' time, the station-master came out on the platform, +a little more thoughtful than his wont, and looked eastward for the +smoke of the train. With but three of the passengers in that train has +this tale specially to do, and they were all in the new and comfortable +Pullman "City of Cheyenne." One was a tall, well-made man of about +thirty—blond, blue-eyed, bearded, straight, sinewy, alert. Of all in +the train he seemed the most thoroughly at home, and the respectful +greeting of the conductor, as he passed through the car, marked him as +an officer of the road. Such was he—Henry Sinclair, assistant engineer, +quite famed on the line, high in favor with the directors, and a rising +man in all ways. It was known on the road that he was expected in +Denver, and there were rumors that he was to organize the parties for +the survey of an important "extension." Beside him sat his pretty young +wife. She was a New Yorker—one could tell at first glance—from the +feather of her little bonnet, matching the gray travelling dress, to the +tips of her dainty boots; and one, too, at whom old Fifth Avenue +promenaders would have turned to look. She had a charming figure, brown +hair, hazel eyes, and an expression at once kind, intelligent, and +spirited. She had cheerfully left a luxurious home to follow the young +engineer's fortunes; and it was well known that those fortunes had been +materially advanced by her tact and cleverness.</p> + +<p>The third passenger in question had just been in conversation with +Sinclair, and the latter was telling his wife of their curious meeting. +Entering the toilet-room at the rear of the car, he said, he had begun +his ablutions by the side of another man, and it was as they were +sluicing their faces with water that he heard the cry:</p> + +<p>"Why, Major, is that you? Just to think of meeting you here!"</p> + +<p>A man of about twenty-eight years of age, slight, muscular, wiry, had +seized his wet hand and was wringing it. He had black eyes, keen and +bright, swarthy complexion, black hair and mustache. A keen observer +might have seen about him some signs of a <i>jeunesse orageuse</i>, but his +manner was frank and pleasing. Sinclair looked him in the face, puzzled +for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember Foster?" asked the man.</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," replied Sinclair. "For a moment I could not place you. +Where have you been and what have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," replied Foster, laughing, "I've braced up and turned over a new +leaf. I'm a respectable member of society, have a place in the express +company, and am going to Denver to take charge."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to hear it, and you must tell me your story when we have +had our breakfast."</p> + +<p>The pretty young woman was just about to ask who Foster was, when the +speed of the train slackened, and the brakeman opened the door of the +car and cried out in stentorian tones:</p> + +<p>"Pawnee Junction; twenty minutes for refreshments!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<br> + +<p>II.</p> + +<p>When the celebrated Rocky Mountain gold excitement broke out, more than +twenty years ago, and people painted "PIKE'S PEAK OR BUST" on the +canvas covers of their wagons and started for the diggings, they +established a "trail" or "trace" leading in a south-westerly direction +from the old one to California.</p> + +<p>At a certain point on this trail a frontiersman named Barker built a +forlorn ranch-house and <i>corral</i>, and offered what is conventionally +called "entertainment for man and beast."</p> + +<p>For years he lived there, dividing his time between fighting the Indians +and feeding the passing emigrants and their stock. Then the first +railroad to Denver was built, taking another route from the Missouri, +and Barker's occupation was gone. He retired with his gains to St. Louis +and lived in comfort.</p> + +<p>Years passed on, and the "extension" over which our train is to pass was +planned. The old pioneers were excellent natural engineers, and their +successors could find no better route than they had chosen. Thus it was +that "Barker's" became, during the construction period, an important +point, and the frontiersman's name came to figure on time-tables. +Meanwhile the place passed through a process of evolution which would +have delighted Darwin. In the party of engineers which first camped +there was Sinclair, and it was by his advice that the contractors +selected it for division headquarters. Then came drinking "saloons," and +gambling-houses—alike the inevitable concomitant and the bane of +Western settlements; then scattered houses and shops, and a shabby +so-called hotel, in which the letting of miserable rooms (divided from +each other by canvas partitions) was wholly subordinated to the business +of the bar. Before long, Barker's had acquired a worse reputation than +even other towns of its type, the abnormal and uncanny aggregations of +squalor and vice which dotted the plains in those days; and it was at +its worst when Sinclair returned thither and took up his quarters in the +engineers' building. The passion for gambling was raging, and to pander +thereto were collected as choice a lot of desperadoes as ever "stocked" +cards or loaded dice. It came to be noticed that they were on excellent +terms with a man called "Jeff" Johnson, who was lessee of the hotel; and +to be suspected that said Johnson, in local parlance, "stood in with" +them. With this man had come to Barker's his daughter Sarah, commonly +known as "Sally," a handsome girl with a straight, lithe figure, fine +features, reddish auburn hair, and dark blue eyes. It is but fair to say +that even the "toughs" of a place like Barker's show some respect for +the other sex, and Miss Sally's case was no exception to the rule. The +male population admired her; they said she "put on heaps of style"; but +none of them had seemed to make any progress in her good graces.</p> + +<p>On a pleasant afternoon, just after the track had been laid some miles +west of Barker's, and construction trains were running with some +regularity to and from the end thereof, Sinclair sat on the rude veranda +of the engineers' quarters, smoking his well-colored meerschaum and +looking at the sunset. The atmosphere had been so clear during the day +that glimpses were had of Long's and Pike's peaks, and as the young +engineer gazed at the gorgeous cloud-display he was thinking of the +miners' quaint and pathetic idea that the dead "go over the Range."</p> + +<p>"Nice-looking, ain't it, Major?" asked a voice at his elbow, and he +turned to see one of the contractors' officials taking a seat near him.</p> + +<p>"More than nice-looking, to my mind, Sam," he replied. "What is the news +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin' much. There's a sight of talk about the doin's of them faro an' +keno sharps. The boys is gittin' kind o' riled, fur they allow the game +ain't on the square wuth a cent. Some of 'em down to the tie-camp wuz +a-talkin' about a vigilance committee, an' I wouldn't be surprised ef +they meant business. Hev yer heard about the young feller that come in a +week ago from Laramie an' set up a new faro-bank?"</p> + +<p>"No. What about him?"</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, yer see he's a feller thet's got a lot of sand an' ain't afeared +of nobody, an' he's allowed to hev the deal to his place on the square +every time. Accordin' to my idee, gamblin's about the wust racket a +feller kin work, but it takes all sorts of men to make a world, an' ef +the boys is bound to hev a game, I calkilate they'd like to patronize +his bank. Thet's made the old crowd mighty mad, an' they're a-talkin' +about puttin' up a job of cheatin' on him an' then stringin' him up. Be +sides, I kind o' think there's some cussed jealousy on another lay as +comes in. Yer see the young feller—Cyrus Foster's his name—is sweet on +thet gal of Jeff Johnson's. Jeff wuz to Laramie before he come here, an' +Foster knowed Sally up thar. I allow he moved here to see her. Hello! Ef +thar they ain't a-comin' now."</p> + +<p>Down a path leading from the town, past the railroad buildings, and well +on the prairie, Sinclair saw the girl walking with the "young feller." +He was talking earnestly to her, and her eyes were cast down. She looked +pretty and, in a way, graceful; and there was in her attire a noticeable +attempt at neatness, and a faint reminiscence of by-gone fashions. A +smile came to Sinclair's lips as he thought of a couple walking up Fifth +Avenue during his leave of absence not many months before, and of a +letter, many times read, lying at that moment in his breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>"Papa's bark is worse than his bite," ran one of its sentences. "Of +course he does not like the idea of my leaving him and going away to +such dreadful and remote places as Denver and Omaha, and I don't know +what else; but he will not oppose me in the end, and when you come on +again—"</p> + +<p>"By thunder!" exclaimed Sam; "ef thar ain't one of them cussed sharps a +watchin' 'em."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, a rough-looking fellow, his hat pulled over his eyes, half +concealed behind a pile of lumber, was casting a sinister glance toward +the pair.</p> + +<p>"The gal's well enough," continued Sam; "but I don't take a cent's wuth +of stock in thet thar father of her'n. He's in with them sharps, sure +pop, an' it don't suit his book to hev Foster hangin' round. It's ten to +one he sent that cuss to watch 'em. Wa'al, they're a queer lot, an' I'm +afeared thar's plenty of trouble ahead among 'em. Good luck to you, +Major," and he pushed back his chair and walked away.</p> + +<p>After breakfast next morning, when Sinclair was sitting at the table in +his office, busy with maps and plans, the door was thrown open, and +Foster, panting for breath, ran in.</p> + +<p>"Major Sinclair," he said, speaking with difficulty, "I've no claim on +you, but I ask you to protect me. The other gamblers are going to hang +me. They are more than ten to one. They will track me here, and unless +you harbor me, I'm a dead man."</p> + +<p>Sinclair rose from his chair in a second and walked to the window. A +party of men were approaching the building. He turned to Foster:</p> + +<p>"I do not like your trade," said he; "but I will not see you murdered if +I can help it. You are welcome here." Foster said "Thank you," stood +still a moment, and then began to pace the room, rapidly clinching his +hands, his whole frame quivering, his eyes flashing fire—"for all the +world," Sinclair said, in telling the story afterward, "like a fierce +caged tiger."</p> + +<p>"My God!" he muttered, with concentrated intensity, "to be <i>trapped</i>, +TRAPPED like this!"</p> + +<p>Sinclair stepped quickly to the door of his bedroom, and motioned Foster +to enter. Then there came a knock at the outer door, and he opened it +and stood on the threshold, erect and firm. Half a dozen "toughs" faced +him.</p> + +<p>"Major," said their spokesman, "we want that man."</p> + +<p>"You cannot have him, boys."</p> + +<p>"Major, we're a-goin' to take him."</p> + +<p>"You had better not try," said Sinclair, with perfect ease and +self-possession, and in a pleasant voice. "I have given him shelter, and +you can only get him over my dead body. Of course you can kill me, but +you won't do even that without one or two of you going down; and then +you know perfectly well, boys, what will happen. You <i>know</i> that if you +lay your finger on a railroad man it's all up with you. There are five +hundred men in the tie-camp, not five miles away, and you don't need to +be told that in less than one hour after they get word there won't be a +piece of one of you big enough to bury."</p> + +<p>The men made no reply. They looked him straight in the eyes for a +moment. Had they seen a sign of flinching they might have risked the +issue, but there was none. With muttered curses, they slunk away. +Sinclair shut and bolted the door, then opened the one leading to the +bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Foster," he said, "the train will pass here in half an hour. Have you +money enough?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty, Major."</p> + +<p>"Very well; keep perfectly quiet, and I will try to get you safely off." +He went to an adjoining room and called Sam, the contractor's man. He +took in the situation at a glance.</p> + +<p>"Wa'al, Foster," said he, "kind o' 'close call' for yer, warn't it? +Guess yer'd better be gittin' up an' gittin' pretty lively. The train +boys will take yer through, an' yer kin come back when this racket's +worked out."</p> + +<p>Sinclair glanced at his watch, then he walked to the window and looked +out. On a small <i>mesa</i>, or elevated-plateau, commanding the path to the +railroad, he saw a number of men with rifles.</p> + +<p>"Just as I expected," said he. "Sam, ask one of the boys to go down to +the track and, when the train arrives, tell the conductor to come here."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the whistle was heard, and the conductor entered the +building. Receiving his instructions, he returned, and immediately on +engine, tender, and platform appeared the trainmen, with <i>their</i> rifles +covering the group on the bluff. Sinclair put on his hat.</p> + +<p>"Now, Foster," said he, "we have no time to lose. Take Sam's arm and +mine, and walk between us."</p> + +<p>The trio left the building and walked deliberately to the railroad. Not +a word was spoken. Besides the men in sight on the train, two behind the +window-blinds of the one passenger coach, and unseen, kept their fingers +on the triggers of their repeating carbines. It seemed a long time, +counted by anxious seconds, until Foster was safe in the coach.</p> + +<p>"All ready, conductor," said Sinclair. "Now, Foster, good-by. I am not +good at lecturing, but if I were you, I would make this the +turning-point in my life."</p> + +<p>Foster was much moved.</p> + +<p>"I will do it, Major," said he; "and I shall never forget what you have +done for me to-day. I am sure we shall meet again."</p> + +<p>With another shriek from the whistle the train started. Sinclair and Sam +saw the men quietly returning the firearms to their places as it +gathered way. Then they walked back to their quarters. The men on the +<i>mesa</i>, balked of their purpose, had withdrawn.</p> + +<p>Sam accompanied Sinclair to his door, and then sententiously remarked: +"Major, I think I'll light out and find some of the boys. You ain't got +no call to know anything about it, but I allow it's about time them +cusses was bounced."</p> + +<p>Three nights after this, a powerful party of <i>Vigilantes</i>, stern and +inexorable, made a raid on all the gambling dens, broke the tables and +apparatus, and conducted the men to a distance from the town, where they +left them with an emphatic and concise warning as to the consequences +of any attempt to return. An exception was made in Jeff Johnson's +case—but only for the sake of his daughter—for it was found that many +a "little game" had been carried on in his house.</p> + +<p>Erelong he found it convenient to sell his business and retire to a town +some miles to the eastward, where the railroad influence was not as +strong as at Barker's. At about this time, Sinclair made his +arrangements to go to New York, with the pleasant prospect of marrying +the young lady in Fifth Avenue. In due time he arrived at Barker's with +his young and charming wife and remained for some days. The changes were +astounding. Common-place respectability had replaced abnormal +lawlessness. A neat station stood where had been the rough contractor's +buildings. At a new "Windsor" (or was it "Brunswick"?) the performance +of the kitchen contrasted sadly (alas! how common is such contrast in +these regions) with the promise of the <i>menu</i>. There was a tawdry +theatre yclept "Academy of Music," and there was not much to choose in +the way of ugliness between two "meeting-houses."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, my dear," said Sinclair to his wife, "I ought to be +ashamed to say it, but I prefer Barker's <i>au naturel</i>."</p> + +<p>One evening, just before the young people left the town, and as Mrs. +Sinclair sat alone in her room, the frowsy waitress announced "a lady," +and was requested to bid her enter. A woman came with timid mien into +the room, sat down, as invited, and removed her veil. Of course the +young bride had never known Sally Johnson, the whilom belle of Barker's, +but her husband would have noticed at a glance how greatly she was +changed from the girl who walked with Foster past the engineers' +quarters. It would be hard to find a more striking contrast than was +presented by the two women as they sat facing each other: the one in the +flush of health and beauty, calm, sweet, self-possessed; the other still +retaining some of the shabby finery of old days, but pale and haggard, +with black rings under her eyes, and a pathetic air of humiliation.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Sinclair," she hurriedly began, "you do not know me, nor the like +of me. I've got no right to speak to you, but I couldn't help it. Oh! +please believe me, I am not real downright bad. I'm Sally Johnson, +daughter of a man whom they drove out of the town. My mother died when I +was little, and I <i>never</i> had a show; and folks think because I live +with my father, and he makes me know the crowd he travels with, that I +must be in with them, and be of their sort. I never had a woman speak a +kind word to me, and I've had so much trouble that I'm just drove wild, +and like to kill myself; and then I was at the station when you came in, +and I saw your sweet face and the kind look in your eyes, and it came in +my heart that I'd speak to you if I died for it." She leaned eagerly +forward, her hands nervously closing on the back of a chair. "I suppose +your husband never told you of me; like enough he never knew me; but +I'll never forget him as long as I live. When he was here before, there +was a young man "—here a faint color came in the wan cheeks—"who was +fond of me, and I thought the world of him, and my father was down on +him, and the men that father was in with wanted to kill him; and Mr. +Sinclair saved his life. He's gone away, and I've waited and waited for +him to come back—and perhaps I'll never see him again. But oh! dear +lady, I'll never forget what your husband did. He's a good man, and he +deserves the love of a dear good woman like you, and if I dared, I'd +pray for you both, night and day."</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly and sank back in her seat, pale as before, and as +if frightened by her own emotion. Mrs. Sinclair had listened with +sympathy and increasing interest.</p> + +<p>"My poor girl," she said, speaking tenderly (she had a lovely, soft +voice) and with slightly heightened color, "I am delighted that you came +to see me, and that my husband was able to help you. Tell me, can we not +do more for you? I do not for one moment believe you can be happy with +your present surroundings. Can we not assist you to leave them?"</p> + +<p>The girl rose, sadly shaking her head. "I thank you for your words," she +said. "I don't suppose I'll ever see you again, but I'll say, God bless +you!"</p> + +<p>She caught Mrs. Sinclair's hand, pressed it to her lips, and was gone.</p> + +<p>Sinclair found his wife very thoughtful when he came home, and he +listened with much interest to her story.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" said he; "Foster is the man to help her. I wonder where he +is? I must inquire about him."</p> + +<p>The next day they proceeded on their way to San Francisco, and matters +drifted on at Barker's much as before. Johnson had, after an absence of +some months, come back and lived without molestation, amid the shifting +population. Now and then, too, some of the older residents fancied they +recognized, under slouched sombreros, the faces of some of his former +"crowd" about the "Ranchman's Home," as his gaudy saloon was called.</p> + +<p>Late on the very evening on which this story opens, and they had been +"making up" the Denver Express in the train-house on the Missouri, "Jim" +Watkins, agent and telegrapher at Barker's, was sitting in his little +office, communicating with the station rooms by the ticket window. Jim +was a cool, silent, efficient man, and not much given to talk about such +episodes in his past life as the "wiping out" by Indians of the +construction party to which he belonged, and his own rescue by the +scouts. He was smoking an old and favorite pipe, and talking with one of +"the boys" whose head appeared at the wicket. On a seat in the station +sat a woman in a black dress and veil, apparently waiting for a train.</p> + +<p>"Got a heap of letters and telegrams there, ain't year, Jim?" remarked +the man at the window.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Jim; "they're for Engineer Sinclair, to be delivered to +him when he passes through here. He left on No. 17, to-night." The +inquirer did not notice the sharp start of the woman near him.</p> + +<p>"Is that good-lookin' wife of his'n a comin' with him?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's letters for her, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-night, Jim. See yer later," and he went out. The woman +suddenly rose and ran to the window.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Watkins," cried she, "can I see you for a few moments, where no one +can interrupt us? It's a matter of life and death." She clutched the +sill with her thin hands, and her voice trembled. Watkins recognized +Sally Johnson in a moment. He unbolted a door, motioned her to enter, +closed and again bolted it, and also closed the ticket window. Then he +pointed to a chair, and the girl sat down and leaned eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"If they knew I was here," she said in a hoarse whisper, "my life +wouldn't be safe five minutes. I was waiting to tell you a terrible +story, and then I heard who was on the train due here to-morrow night. +Mr. Watkins, don't, for God's sake, ask me how I found out, but I hope +to die if I ain't telling you the living truth! They're going to wreck +that train—No. 17—at Dead Man's Crossing, fifteen miles east, and rob +the passengers and the express car. It's the worst gang in the country, +<i>Perry's</i>. They're going to throw the train off the track the passengers +will be maimed and killed,—and Mr. Sinclair and his wife on the cars! +Oh! My God! Mr. Watkins, send them warning!"</p> + +<p>She stood upright, her face deadly pale, her hands clasped. Watkins +walked deliberately to the railroad map which hung on the wall and +scanned it. Then he resumed his seat, laid his pipe down, fixed his eyes +on the girl's face, and began to question her. At the same time his +right hand, with which he had held the pipe, found its way to the +telegraph key. None but an expert could have distinguished any change in +the <i>clicking</i> of the instrument, which had been almost incessant; but +Watkins had "called" the head office on the Missouri. In two minutes the +"sounder" rattled out "<i>All right! What is it</i>?"</p> + +<p>Watkins went on with his questions, his eyes still fixed on the poor +girl's face, and all the time his fingers, as it were, playing with the +key. If he were imperturbable, so was <i>not</i> a man sitting at a receiving +instrument nearly five hundred miles away. He had "taken" but a few +words when he jumped from his chair and cried:</p> + +<p>"Shut that door, and call the superintendent and be quick! Charley, +brace up—lively—and come and write this out!" With his wonderful +electric pen, the handle several hundred of miles long, Watkins, +unknown to his interlocutor, was printing in the Morse alphabet this +startling message:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"Inform'n rec'd. Perry gang going to throw No. 17 off</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">track near—xth mile-post, this division, about nine to-morrow</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">(Thursday) night, kill passengers, and rob express and mail.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Am alone here. No chance to verify story, but believe it to be</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">on square. Better make arrangements from your end to block</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">game. No Sheriff here now. Answer."</span><br> + +<p>The superintendent, responding to the hasty summons, heard the message +before the clerk had time to write it out. His lips were closely +compressed as he put his own hand on the key and sent these laconic +sentences: "<i>O.K. Keep perfectly dark. Will manage from this end</i>."</p> + +<p>Watkins, at Barker's, rose from his seat, opened the door a little way, +saw that the station was empty, and then said to the girl, brusquely, +but kindly:</p> + +<p>"Sally, you've done the square thing, and saved that train. I'll take +care that you don't suffer and that you get well paid. Now come home +with me, and my wife will look out for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! no," cried the girl, shrinking back, "I must run away. You're +mighty kind, but I daren't go with you." Detecting a shade of doubt in +his eye, she added: "Don't be afeared; I'll die before they'll know I've +given them away to you!" and she disappeared in the darkness.</p> + +<p>At the other end of the wire, the superintendent had quietly impressed +secrecy on his operator and clerk ordered his fast mare harnessed, and +gone to his private office.</p> + +<p>"Read that!" said he to his secretary, "it was about time for some +trouble of this kind, and now I'm going to let Uncle Sam take care of +his mails. If I don't get to the reservation before the General's turned +in, I shall have to wake him up. Wait for me, please."</p> + +<p>They gray mare made the six miles to the military reservation in just +half an hour. The General was smoking his last <i>cigar</i>, and was alert in +an instant; and before the superintendent had finished the jorum of "hot +Scotch" hospitably tendered, the orders had gone by wire to the +commanding officer at Fort----, some distance east of Barker's, and been +duly acknowledged.</p> + +<p>Returning to the station, the superintendent remarked to the waiting +secretary:</p> + +<p>"The General's all right. Of course we can't tell that this is not a +sell; but if those Perry hounds mean business they'll get all the fight +they want; and if they've got any souls—which I doubt—may the Lord +have mercy on them!"</p> + +<p>He prepared several despatches, two of which were as follows:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"MR. HENRY SINCLAIR:</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"On No. 17, Pawnee Junction:</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This telegram your authority to take charge of train on which</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">you are, and demand obedience of all officials and trainmen on</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">road. Please do so, and act in accordance with information</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">wired station agent at Pawnee Junction."</span><br> + +<p>To the Station Agent:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"Reported Perry gang will try wreck and rob No. 17 near—xth</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">mile-post. Denver Division, about nine Thursday night</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Troops will await train at Fort----. Car ordered ready for</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">them. Keep everything secret, and act in accordance with</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">orders of Mr. Sinclair."</span><br> + +<p>"It's worth about ten thousand dollars," sententiously remarked he, +"that Sinclair's on that train. He's got both sand and brains. +Good-night," and he went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +<br> + +<p>III.</p> + +<p>The sun never shone more brightly and the air was never more clear and +bracing than when Sinclair helped his wife off the train at Pawnee +Junction. The station-master's face fell as he saw the lady, but he +saluted the engineer with as easy an air as he could assume, and watched +for an opportunity to speak to him alone. Sinclair read the despatches +with an unmoved countenance, and after a few minutes' reflection simply +said: "All right. Be sure to keep the matter perfectly quiet." At +breakfast he was <i>distrait</i>—so much so that his wife asked him what was +the matter. Taking her aside, he at once showed her the telegrams.</p> + +<p>"You see my duty," he said. "My only thought is about you, my dear +child. Will you stay here?"</p> + +<p>She simply replied, looking into his face without a tremor:</p> + +<p>"My place is with you." Then the conductor called "All aboard," and the +train once more started.</p> + +<p>Sinclair asked Foster to join him in the smoking-compartment and tell +him the promised story, which the latter did. His rescue at Barker's, he +frankly and gratefully said, <i>had</i> been the turning point in his life. +In brief, he had "sworn-off" from gambling and drinking, had found +honest employment, and was doing well.</p> + +<p>"I've two things to do now, Major," he added; "first, I must show my +gratitude, to you; and next—"he hesitated a little—"I want to find +that poor girl that I left behind at Barker's. She was engaged to marry +me, and when I came to think of it, and what a life I'd have made her +lead, I hadn't the heart till now to look for her; but, seeing I'm on +the right track, I'm going to find her, and get her to come with me. Her +father's a—old scoundrel, but that ain't her fault, and I ain't going +to marry <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>"Foster," quietly asked Sinclair, "do you know the Perry gang?"</p> + +<p>The man's brow darkened.</p> + +<p>"Know them?" said he. "I know them much too well. Perry is as ungodly a +cutthroat as ever killed an emigrant in cold blood, and he's got in his +gang nearly all those hounds that tried to hang me. Why do you ask, +Major?"</p> + +<p>Sinclair handed him the despatches. "You are the only man on the train +to whom I have shown them," said he.</p> + +<p>Foster read them slowly, his eyes lighting up as he did so. "Looks as if +it was true," said he. "Let me see! Fort----. Yes, that's the—th +infantry. Two of their boys were killed at Sidney last summer by some of +the same gang, and the regiment's sworn vengeance. Major, if this +story's on the square, that crowd's goose is cooked, and <i>don't you +forget it</i>! I say, you must give me a hand in."</p> + +<p>"Foster," said Sinclair, "I am going to put responsibility on your +shoulders. I have no doubt that, if we be attacked, the soldiers will +dispose of the gang; but I must take all possible precautions for the +safety of the passengers. We must not alarm them. They can be made to +think that the troops are going on a scout, and only a certain number of +resolute men need be told of what we expect. Can you, late this +afternoon, go through the cars, and pick them out? I will then put you +in charge of the passenger cars, and you can post your men on the +platforms to act in case of need. My place will be ahead."</p> + +<p>"Major, you can depend on me," was Foster's reply. "I'll go through the +train and have my eye on some boys of the right sort, and that's got +their shooting-irons with them."</p> + +<p>Through the hours of that day on rolled the train, till over the crisp +buffalo grass, across the well-worn buffalo trails, past the prairie-dog +villages. The passengers chatted, dozed, played cards, read, all +unconscious, with the exception of three, of the coming conflict between +the good and the evil forces bearing on their fate; of the fell +preparations making for their disaster; of the grim preparations making +to avert such disaster; of all of which the little wires alongside of +them had been talking back and forth. Watkins had telegraphed that he +still saw no reason to doubt the good faith of his warning, and Sinclair +had reported his receipt of authority and his acceptance thereof. +Meanwhile, also, there had been set in motion a measure of that power to +which appeal is so reluctantly made in time of peace. At Fort----, a +lonely post on the plains, the orders had that morning been issued for +twenty men under Lieutenant Halsey to parade at 4 P.M., with overcoats, +two days' rations, and ball cartridges; also for Assistant Surgeon +Kesler to report for duty with the party. Orders as to destination were +communicated direct to the lieutenant from the post commander, and on +the minute the little column moved, taking the road to the station. The +regiment from which it came had been in active service among the Indians +on the frontier for a long time, and the officers and men were tried and +seasoned fighters. Lieutenant Halsey had been well known at the West +Point balls as the "leader of the german." From the last of these balls +he had gone straight to the field and three years had given him an +enviable reputation for <i>sang froid</i> and determined bravery. He looked +every inch the soldier as he walked along the trail, his cloak thrown +back and his sword tucked under his arm. The doctor, who carried a Modoc +bullet in some inaccessible part of his scarred body, growled +good-naturedly at the need of walking, and the men, enveloped in their +army-blue overcoats, marched easily by fours. Reaching the station, the +lieutenant called the agent aside and with him inspected, on a siding, a +long platform on which benches had been placed and secured. Then he took +his seat in the station and quietly waited, occasionally twisting his +long blond mustache. The doctor took a cigar with the agent, and the men +walked about or sat on the edge of the platform. One of them, who +obtained a surreptitious glance at his silent commander, told his +companions that there was trouble ahead for somebody.</p> + +<p>"That's just the way the leftenant looked, boys," said he, "when we was +laying for them Apaches that raided Jones's Ranch and killed the women +and little children."</p> + +<p>In a short time the officer looked at his watch, formed his men, and +directed them to take their places on the seats of the car. They had +hardly done so, when the whistle of the approaching train was heard. +When it came up, the conductor, who had his instructions from Sinclair, +had the engine detached and backed on the siding for the soldiers' +which thus came between it and the foremost baggage-car, when the train +was again made up. As arranged, it was announced that the troops were to +be taken a certain distance to join a scouting party, and the curiosity +of the passengers was but slightly excited. The soldiers sat quietly in +their seats, their repeating rifles held between their knees, and the +officer in front. Sinclair joined the latter, and had a few words with +him as the train moved on. A little later, when the stars were shining +brightly overhead, they passed into the express-car, and sent for the +conductor and other trainmen, and for Foster. In a few words Sinclair +explained the position of affairs. His statement was received with +perfect coolness, and the men only asked what they were to do.</p> + +<p>"I hope, boys," said Sinclair, "that we are going to put this gang +to-night where they will make no more trouble. Lieutenant Halsey will +bear the brunt of the fight, and it only remains for you to stand by the +interests committed to your care. Mr. Express Agent, what help do you +want?" The person addressed, a good-natured giant, girded with a +cartridge belt, smiled as he replied:</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I'm wearing a watch which the company gave me for standing +off the James gang in Missouri for half an hour, when we hadn't the +ghost of a soldier about. I'll take the contract, and welcome, to hold +<i>this</i> fort alone."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Sinclair. "Foster, progress have you made?"</p> + +<p>"Major, I've got ten or fifteen as good men as ever drew a bead, and +just red-hot for a fight."</p> + +<p>"That will do very well. Conductor, give the trainmen the rifles from +the baggage-car and let them act under Mr. Foster. Now, boys, I am sure +you will do your duty. That is all."</p> + +<p>From the next station Sinclair telegraphed "All ready" to the +superintendent, who was pacing his office in much suspense. Then he said +a few words to his brave but anxious wife, and walked to the rear +platform. On it were several armed men, who bade him good-evening, and +asked "when the fun was going to begin." Walking through the train, he +found each platform similarly occupied, and Foster going from one to the +other. The latter whispered as he passed him:</p> + +<p>"Major, I found Arizona Joe, the scout, in the smokin'-car, and he's on +the front platform. That lets me out, and although I know as well as you +that there ain't any danger about that rear sleeper where the madam is, +I ain't a-going to be far off from her." Sinclair shook him by the hand; +then he looked at his watch. It was half-past eight. He passed through +the baggage and express cars, finding in the latter the agent sitting +behind his safe, on which lay two large revolvers. On the platform-car +he found the soldiers and their commander, sitting silent and +unconcerned as before. When Sinclair reached the latter and nodded, he +rose and faced the men, and his fine voice was clearly heard above the +rattle of the train.</p> + +<p>"Company, 'ten<i>tion</i>!" The soldiers straightened themselves in a second.</p> + +<p>"With ball cartridge, <i>load</i>!" It was done with the precision of a +machine. Then the lieutenant spoke, in the same clear, crisp tones that +the troops had heard in more than one fierce battle.</p> + +<p>"Men," said he, "in a few minutes the Perry gang, which you will +remember, are going to try to run this train off the track, wound and +kill the passengers, and rob the cars and the United States mail. It is +our business to prevent them. Sergeant Wilson" (a gray-bearded +non-commissioned officer stood up and saluted), "I am going on the +engine. See that my orders are repeated. Now, men, aim low, and don't +waste any shots." He and Sinclair climbed over the tender and spoke to +the engine-driver.</p> + +<p>"How are the air-brakes working?" asked Sinclair.</p> + +<p>"First-rate."</p> + +<p>"Then, if you slow down now, you could stop the train in a third of her +length, couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Easy, if you don't mind being shaken up a bit."</p> + +<p>"That is good. How is the country about the—xth mile-post?"</p> + +<p>"Dead level, and smooth."</p> + +<p>"Good again. Now, Lieutenant Halsey, this is a splendid head-light, and +we can see a long way with my night glass, I will have a—"</p> + +<p>"—2d mile-post just passed," interrupted the engine-driver.</p> + +<p>"Only one more to pass, then, before we ought to strike them. Now, +lieutenant, I undertake to stop the train within a very short distance +of the gang. They will be on both sides of the track no doubt; and the +ground, as you hear, is quite level You will best know what to do."</p> + +<p>The officer stepped back. "Sergeant," called he, "do you hear me +plainly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have the men fix bayonets. When the train stops, and I wave my sword, +let half jump off each side, run up quickly, and form line <i>abreast of +the engine</i>—not ahead."</p> + +<p>"Jack," said Sinclair to the engine-driver, "is your hand steady?" The +man held it up with a smile. "Good. Now, stand by your throttle and your +air-brake. Lieutenant, better warn the men to hold on tight, and tell +the sergeant to pass the word to the boys on the platforms, or they will +be knocked off by the sudden stop. Now for a look ahead!" and he brought +the binocular to his eyes.</p> + +<p>The great parabolic head-light illuminated the track a long way in +advance, all behind it being of course in darkness. Suddenly Sinclair +cried out:</p> + +<p>"The fools have a light there, as I am a living man; and there is a +little red one near us. What can that be? All ready. Jack! By heavens! +they have taken up two rails. Now, <i>hold on, all</i>! STOP HER!!"</p> + +<p>The engine-driver shut his throttle-valve with a jerk. Then, holding +hard by it, he sharply turned a brass handle. There was a fearful +jolt—a grating—and the train's way was checked. The lieutenant, +standing sidewise, had drawn his sword. He waved it, and almost before +he could get off the engine, the soldiers were up and forming, still in +shadow, while the bright light was thrown on a body of men ahead.</p> + +<p>"Surrender, or you are dead men!" roared the officer. Curses and several +shots were the reply. Then came the orders, quick and sharp:</p> + +<p>"<i>Forward! Close rip! Double-quick! Halt</i>! FIRE!"</p> + +<p>It was speedily over. Left on the car with the men, the old sergeant had +said:</p> + +<p>"Boys, you hear. It's that ---- Perry gang. Now, don't forget Larry and +Charley that they murdered last year," and there had come from the +soldiers a sort of fierce, subdued <i>growl</i>. The volley was followed by a +bayonet charge, and it required all the officer's authority to save the +lives even of those who "threw up their hands." Large as the gang was +(outnumbering the troops), well armed and desperate as they were, every +one was dead, wounded, or a prisoner when the men who guarded the train +platforms ran up. The surgeon, with professional coolness, walked up to +the robbers, his instrument case under his arm.</p> + +<p>"Not much for me to do here, Lieutenant," said he. "That practice for +Creedmoor is telling on the shooting. Good thing for the gang, too. +Bullets are better than rope, and a Colorado jury will give them plenty +of that."</p> + +<p>Sinclair had sent a man to tell his wife that all was over. Then he +ordered a fire lighted, and the rails relaid. The flames lit a strange +scene as the passengers flocked up. The lieutenant posted men to keep +them back.</p> + +<p>"Is there a telegraph station not far ahead Sinclair?" asked he. "Yes? +All right." He drew a small pad from his pocket, and wrote a despatch to +the post commander.</p> + +<p>"Be good enough to send that for me," said he "and leave orders at +Barker's for the night express eastward to stop for us, and to bring a +posse to take care of the wounded and prisoners. And now, my dear +Sinclair, I suggest that you get the passengers into the cars, and go on +as soon as those rails are spiked. When they realize the situation, some +of them will feel precious ugly, and you know we can't have any +lynching."</p> + +<p>Sinclair glanced at the rails and gave the word at once to the conductor +and brakemen, who began vociferating, "All aboard!" Just then Foster +appeared, an expression of intense satisfaction showing clearly on his +face, in the firelight.</p> + +<p>"Major," said he, "I didn't use to take much stock in special +Providence, or things being ordered; but I'm darned if I don't believe +in them from this day. I was bound to stay where you put me, but I was +uneasy, and wild to be in the scrimmage; and, if I had been there, I +wouldn't have taken notice of a little red light that wasn't much +behind the rear platform when we stopped. When I saw there was no danger +there, I ran back, and what do you think I found? There was a woman, in +a dead faint, and just clutching a lantern that she had tied up in a red +scarf, poor little thing! And, Major, it was Sally! It was the little +girl that loved me out at Barker's, and has loved me and waited for me +ever since! And when she came to, and knew me, she was so glad she 'most +fainted away again; and she let on as it was her that gave away the job. +And I took her into the sleeper, and the madam, God bless her!--she knew +Sally before and was good to her—she took care of her, and is cheering +her up. And now, Major, I'm going to take her straight to Denver, and +send for a parson and get her married to me, and she'll brace up, sure +pop."</p> + +<p>The whistle sounded, and the train started. From the window of the +"sleeper" Sinclair and his wife took their last look at the weird scene. +The lieutenant, standing at the side of the track, wrapped in his cloak, +caught a glimpse of Mrs. Sinclair's pretty face, and returned her bow. +Then, as the car passed out of sight, he tugged at his mustache and +hummed:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"Why, boys, why,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Should we be melancholy, boys,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Whose business 'tis to die?"</span><br> + +<p>In less than an hour, telegrams having in the mean time been sent in +both directions, the train ran alongside the platform at Barker's; and; +Watkins, inperturbable as usual, met Sinclair, and gave him his letters.</p> + +<p>"Perry gang wiped out, I hear, Major," said he "Good thing for the +country. That's a lesson the 'toughs' in these parts won't forget for a +long time. Plucky girl that give 'em away, wasn't she. Hope she's all +right."</p> + +<p>"She is all right," said Sinclair, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Glad of that. By-the-way, that father of her'n passed in his checks +to-night. He'd got one warning from the Vigilantes, and yesterday they +found out he was in with this gang, and they was a-going for him; but +when the telegram come, he put a pistol to his head and saved them all +trouble. Good riddance to everybody, I say. The sheriff's here now, and +is going east on the next train to get them fellows. He's got a big +posse together, and I wouldn't wonder if they was hard to hold in, after +the 'boys in blue' is gone."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the train was off, with its living freight—the just +and the unjust, the reformed and the rescued, the happy and the anxious. +With many of the passengers the episode of the night was already a thing +of the past. Sinclair sat by the side of his wife, to whose cheeks the +color had all come back; and Sally Johnson lay in her berth, faint +still, but able to give an occasional smile to Foster. In the station on +the Missouri the reporters were gathered about the happy superintendent, +smoking his cigars, and filling their note-books with items. In Denver, +their brethren would gladly have done the same, but Watkins failed to +gratify them. He was a man of few words. When the train had gone, and a +friend remarked:</p> + +<p>"Hope they'll get through all right, now," he simply said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, likely. Two shots don't 'most always go in the same hole." Then he +went to the telegraph instrument. In a few minutes he could have told a +story as wild as a Norse <i>saga</i>, but what he said, when Denver had +responded, was only—</p> + +<p><i>"No. 17, fifty-five minutes late."</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="THE_MISFORTUNES_OF_BRO_THOMAS_WHEATLEY"></a><h2>THE MISFORTUNES OF BRO' THOMAS WHEATLEY.</h2> + +<h2>By LINA REDWOOD FAIRFAX.</h2> +<br> + +<p>He is our office-boy and messenger, and, my senior tells me, has been +employed by the firm in this capacity for about thirty years. He is a +negro, about sixty years old, rather short and stout, with a mincing, +noiseless gait, broad African features, beautiful teeth, and small, +round, twinkling eyes, the movements of which are accompanied by little +abrupt, sidewise turns of the head, like a bird. His manner is a curious +mixture of deference and self-importance, his voice a soft, sibilant +whisper, and as he was born and bred in Alexandria, Virginia, it seems +almost superfluous to add that he and the letter "r" are not on speaking +terms.</p> + +<p>He has a prominent characteristic, which always attracts attention at +first sight. This is the shape of his head, which is immensely large in +proportion, very bald, and so abundant in various queer, knobby +excrescences about the forehead and sides, and so unnaturally long and +level on top, that for some time after I made his acquaintance I could +never see him without finding myself forming absurd conjectures as to +whether his cranium and the hydrostatic press could ever have become +acquainted at some early period of his life; and so strong is this +association of ideas that, even now, his sudden appearance invariably +suggests to me the study of natural philosophy. Poor fellow! his chagrin +was great when this peculiar conformation of his skull was first brought +to his notice. He had been telling me for some time past of the +"splendid piccha" he had had "took," and I had been promised a sight of +it just as soon as it arrived from the photographer's. I confess I had +not been sanguine as to the result, although I knew a handsome portrait +was confidently expected by the sitter. One morning he deposited the +photograph before me.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" I cried, taking it in my hand; "here you are, hit off to the +life."</p> + +<p>"Do' say <i>that</i>, Mist' Dunkin, <i>do</i>' say hit, seh," he replied, in a +tone of deep mortification. Then, catching a glimpse of the picture, his +ire broke forth: "Nevvah wuz like <i>me</i> in de wueld," he cried, in an +elevated key; "nevvah <i>wuz</i> ha'f so ugly ez that. I'm—I'm a +bettah-lookin' man, Mist' Dunkin. Why, look at de color of de thing," +contemptuously. "Cain' tell de face f'om de coat I nevvah set up to be +what you'd call <i>faih</i>-cumplectid, but disha things iss same is that +thaih ink; jess iss same. My hade do' look that a way, neitha. Naw, +<i>seh</i>, 'taint s' bad 's that."</p> + +<p>"Why, Thomas," said I, "<i>I</i> think it a very good likeness—the +complexion <i>is</i> a little dark to be sure, but do you know I particularly +admire the head. Look at that forehead; any one can see that you are a +man of intellect. I tell you it isn't every one who can boast of such a +forehead."</p> + +<p>"The—the 'mahk you make 'bout me, has been made 'fo'; I may say, has +been made quite frequent—quite frequent; on'y lass Tuesd'y fohtni't, +Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins—a promnunt membeh of ouh class (that is, Asba'y +class, meets on Gay Street), Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins, she ups an' sez, +befo' de whole class, dat she'd puppose de motion, dat Bro' Thomas +Wheatley wuz 'p'inted fus' speakah in de nex' 'Jug-breakin' an' +Jaymiah's Hamma,' by de i-nanemous vote of de class. I'm clah to say I +wuz 'stonished; but ahta class wuz ovvva, Bro' Moss tole me de +'p'intment wuz made jes' f'on de 'peahunce of my hade, ''Cause,' he sez, +'no man cain't be a po' speakah with sich a fine intellec' which we see +expressed in de hade of Bro' Thomas Wheatley—but, same time, I knowed +all time de fus' motion come f'om Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins—she's a ve'y +good friend o' mine, Sistah Ma'y Ann Jinkins—thinks a sight o' me; I +'scohts heh to class ev'y Tuesd'y—ev'y Tuesd'y, sine die."</p> + +<p>"You do? What does your wife have to say to that?" I asked, +maliciously.</p> + +<p>He stared at me an instant, then replied:</p> + +<p>"My wife!--oh—oh, Law bless yoh soul, seh, <i>she</i> do' keeh. Bro' +'Dolphus Beam, <i>he</i> sees ahta heh: you see, seh, she's I-o-n-g way +'moved f'om Asba'y class; 'twont admit none but fus'-class +'speience-givvahs in Asba'y, an' my wife she wa'n't nevvah no han' to +talk; haint got de gif' of de tongue which Saul, suhname Paul, speaks of +in de Scripcheh—don't possess hit, seh."</p> + +<p>"She must be a very nice person to live with," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Well, y-e-es, seh," replied Thomas, after reflecting awhile. "I hain't +got nuth'n' 'g'in' Ailse; she's quite, an' ohdaly, a good cook, an' +laundriss, an' she's a lady,<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> an' all that, but sh' ain't not to say +what you'd call a giftid 'oman."</p> + +<p>"Like Sister Mary Ann Jinkins, eh?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Egg</i>-zac'ly, seh. Mist' Dunkin, you put hit kehrec', seh. Ailse hain't +possessed with none of the high talence, cain't exhoht, naw sing with +fehveh, naw yit lead in praieh; heh talence is mos'ly boun' up in +napkins—as Scripcheh say—mos'ly boun' up in napkins; foh I do' deny +she kin do up all kines o' table-linen, she kin indeed. Naw, seh, I +cain't say I got nuth'n' 'g'in' Ailse."</p> + +<p>He was, I think, the worst manager of finances that I have ever known. +He cleaned all the offices in our building, and earned, as near as I +could estimate, about thirty-five dollars a month. Three of his four +children were self-supporting, and his wife was honest and industrious, +taking in washing, and getting well paid for her work. Yet, he was +perpetually in debt, and his wages were always overdrawn. Whenever I +came into the office after my two-o'clock lunch, and found him seated on +his wooden chair, in the corner, gazing absently out at the dingy +chimneys opposite—apparently too abstracted to observe my entrance, I +knew I had only to go to my desk to find, placed in a conspicuous +position thereon, a very small, dirty bit of paper, with these words +laboriously inscribed upon it: "Mr. Dunkin Sir cen you oblidge me with +the sum of three dolers an a half [or whatever the sum might be] an +deduc thee same from mi salry i em in grate kneed of thee same yours mos +respecfull thomas wheatley."</p> + +<p>The form was always the same, my name in imposing capitals and the +remainder in the very smallest letters which he could coax his stiff old +fingers to make, and all written on the tiniest scrap of writing-paper. +I think his object was to impress me with his humiliation, +impecuniosity, and general low condition, because as soon as he received +the money—which he always did, I vowing to myself each time that this +advance should be the last, and as regularly breaking my vow—he would +tip-toe carefully to the mantel-piece, get down his pen and ink, borrow +my sand-bottle, and proceed to indite me a letter of acknowledgment. +This written, he would present it with a sweeping bow, and then retire +precipitately to his corner, chuckling, and perspiring profusely. He +usually preferred foolscap for these documents, and the capitals were +numerous and imposing. Like the others, however, they were invariably +word for word the same, and were couched in the following terms:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">"MR. DUNKIN</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"SIR I have Recieved thee Sum of Three Dolers an a half</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">from Your hans an I Recieve thee same with Joy an Grattetude.</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"Yours respecfull</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">"THOMAS WHEATLEY."</span><br> + +<p>I said his applications for money were always granted. I must, however, +make an exception, which, after all, will only go to prove the rule. One +bright morning he met me at the office-door, his face as beaming as the +weather. He hardly waited for me to doff my overcoat and hat, when he +announced that he had bought a second-hand parlor organ the evening +before, on credit, for seventy-five dollars, to be paid in instalments +of twelve dollars and a half each. He had been very hard up for a month +past, as I had abundant occasion to know, and it was therefore with a +feeling rather stronger than surprise, that I received the announcement +of this purchase.</p> + +<p>"But you haven't fifty cents toward paying for it. And what on earth can +you possibly want with a parlor organ? Can you play?—can any of your +family play?"</p> + +<p>"Well, naw, seh," scratching his head reflectively. "I cain't s'ay they +<i>kin</i> not to say <i>play</i>"—as if they were all taking lessons, and +expected to become proficient at some not far distant day. "In fac', +seh, none on um knows a wued o' music. I didn't mean, seh, I didn't +'tend the—the instrument fu' househol' puhpasses—I—I 'tended hit as a +off'in' to ouh Sabbath-school. We—we has no instrument at present, +an'—"</p> + +<p>I am afraid I uttered a very bad word at this juncture. Thomas started, +and retired in great discomfiture, and I thought I had made an end of +the matter, but that afternoon I found the small scrap of paper on my +desk—really, I think, with a little practice, Thomas might hope to +rival the man who goes about writing the Lord's Prayer in the space of +half a dollar. My name was in larger capitals, the rest in smaller +letters, than usual, and I was requested "to oblidge him with the sum of +twelve dolers an' a half." I knew then that the first organ-instalment +was due, but I think it needless to add, his application was refused. +About a week afterward, I learned that the Sabbath-school was again +without a musical instrument, the organ having been pawned for twenty +dollars, Thomas paying ten per cent a month on the money. It was so with +everything he undertook. Once he gave me elaborate warning that I must +furnish myself with another messenger at once, as he was going to make +a fortune peddling oranges and apples. Accordingly, he bought a barrel +(!) of each kind of fruit, sold half at reasonable rates, and then, the +remainder beginning to decay on his hands, he came to me, offering +really fine Havana oranges at a cent apiece.</p> + +<p>"I'm driffin' 'em off et coss—driffin' 'em off et coss," he whispered, +speaking rapidly, and waving his hands about, oriental fashion, the +palms turned outward and the fingers twirling; this peculiar gesture +seemed intended to indicate the cheapness of his wares. "Dey coss me +mo'n that; heap mo', but I'm faih to lose um all now, en I'm driffin' +'em off, sine die."</p> + +<p>After that, some dozen or more of the large wholesale houses engaged him +to furnish their counting-rooms with lunch, and he began with brilliant +prospects. He brought his basket around to me for first choice. +Everything was very nice; a clean new basket, covered with a white +cloth, wherein lay piles of neatly arranged packages done up in +letter-paper, with a strange-looking character inscribed upon each.</p> + +<p>"What do these letters mean?" I asked, taking up one of the packages, +and trying in vain to decipher the cabalistic sign upon it.</p> + +<p>Thomas chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's to show de kine of san'wich dey is, Mist' Dunkin. You see, +seh, I got th'ee kines—so I put 'B' on de beef, 'H' on de <i>hahm</i>, an' I +stahtid to put 'H' on de hystehs too, but den I foun' I couldn't tell +de <i>hystehs</i> f'om de <i>hahm</i>, so den I put 'H I' on de hystehs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," said I, opening one of the "hysteh" packages. It was very +good; an excellent French roll, well spread with choice butter, and two +large, nicely fried oysters between. I ate it speedily, took another, +and, that disposed of, asked the price.</p> + +<p>"Ten cents, seh."</p> + +<p>"For two!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, seh; fi' cents 'piece."</p> + +<p>"Why, Thomas," I exclaimed, "you mustn't begin by asking five cents +apiece; you'll ruin yourself. These things are <i>worth</i> at least twice as +much money. Why, I pay ten cents for a sandwich at an eating-house, and +it doesn't begin to have as good materials in it as yours. You ought to +ask more."</p> + +<p>"Naw, seh; naw, seh; Mist' Dunkin; as' less, an' sell mo'—that's my +motteh. I have all dese yeah clean sole out 'fo' two 'clock—clean sole +out 'fo' two 'clock."</p> + +<p>I interrupted him, asking the cost of each article, and then proving to +him by calculation that he lost money on each sandwich he sold at five +cents. But I could not convince him—he received the twenty-five cents +which I insisted on paying him with many expressions of gratitude, but +he left me reiterating his belief in "quick sales and small profits." +"Be back yeah clean sole out by two 'clock, sine die," he exclaimed, +brightly, as he departed.</p> + +<p>This venture brought him six dollars in debt at the expiration of a +fortnight, and after that, by my advice, he abandoned peddling, +condemning it as a "low-life trade," and agreeing to stick to legitimate +business for the future.</p> + +<p>One of his famous expressions, the most formidable rival of <i>sine die</i> +(which, as the reader has doubtless discovered, he intended as an +elegant synonym for <i>without fail</i>), was entirely original—this was +"Granny to Mash" (I spell phonetically), used as an exclamation, and +only employed when laboring under great mental excitement.</p> + +<p>As I was proceeding homeward one evening, I spied him standing on a +street corner, holding forth to a select assemblage of his own color, +who were listening to him with an appearance of the profoundest respect. +His back was toward me, and I stopped and caught his words without +attracting observation. He had assumed a very pompous, hortatory manner, +and I could well believe he held a prominent position in Asbury class. +"Yes, gentlemun; yes," he was saying, "ez Brotheh Jones 'mahks, I <i>do</i> +live in a ve'y <i>su</i>-peeiaw at-mos-pheeh—suh-roundid by people of +leahnin', with books, pens, blottehs, letteh-pess, <i>en</i> what not, ez +common ez these yeah bricks which I see befo' me. But thaih hain't no +trueh wued then ev'y station has its hawdships, gentlemun, en mine ah +not exemp', mine ah <i>not</i> exemp'.</p> + +<p>"Fus'ly, thaih's the 'sponsebility. W'y, this yeah ve'y mawnin' I banked +nigh on to a thousan' dollehs fu' de young boss. En w'en I tell you +mo'n two hundred stamps is passed my mouth this yeah blessid evenin', 't +will give you some slight idee of the magnitude of the duties I has to +puffawn. W'y, gentlemun, I is drank wateh, an' I is drank beeh, but my +mouth hain't got back hits right moistuh yit."</p> + +<p>The day of the 20th of July, 1877, was very quiet We had heard, of +course, of the "strikes" all over the country, and the morning papers +brought tidings of the trouble with the Baltimore and Ohio railroad +employés at Martinsburg, but no serious difficulty was apprehended in +Baltimore.</p> + +<p>That afternoon I was detained very late at the office. I intended +beginning a three weeks' holiday next morning, and was trying to get +beforehand with my work. My senior was out of town, and Thomas and I had +been very busy since three o'clock—I writing, he copying the letters. +After five, we had the building pretty much to ourselves, and a little +after half past five, the fire alarm sounded. The City Hall bell was +very distinctly heard, and Thomas—who had finished his work and was +waiting to take some papers to the office of the Baltimore and Ohio +Railroad for me—took down a list of the different stations, to +ascertain the whereabouts of the fire.</p> + +<p>"1—5," he counted, as the strokes fell; "that makes fifteen, and that +is," passing his finger slowly down the card, "that is Eastun Po-lice +station, cawneh—naw, <i>on</i> Bank Street. On Bank Street, seh."</p> + +<p>I listened an instant.</p> + +<p>"1—5—1," I said, "151; it isn't fifteen."</p> + +<p>Another five minutes elapsed, while he searched for "151" I busily +writing the while.</p> + +<p>"Hit's—w'y, Lawd-a-massy! Mist' Dunkin, hit's fu' de milinte'y."</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said I. "Yes, so it is; but they only want them to go to +Cumberland. There's a strike there, and the strikers are getting +troublesome."</p> + +<p>He made no reply, and as the bells ceased ringing soon afterward, I +resumed my work, which kept me busy until seven o'clock. I then placed +the papers in an envelope, and took up the letters.</p> + +<p>"Be sure you see the Vice-President himself, Thomas," I said. "You know +him, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Receiving no reply, and turning to ascertain the cause of his silence, I +saw he was leaning out at the open window, gazing earnestly northward +toward Baltimore Street.</p> + +<p>"Thomas! Thomas!" I shouted.</p> + +<p>He heard me at last, and withdrawing his head, apologized for his +inattention.</p> + +<p>"I thought—I heehed sup'n nutha like a hollehin' kine of a noise, +an'—some guns, aw sup'n, an' I wuz look'n' to see, but thaih don't +'peah to be nuthin' goin' on."</p> + +<p>"They're mending the railroad on Baltimore Street," I said. "I suppose +that is what you heard." And I gave the papers into his hand repeating +my directions: "If the gentleman is not there, don't leave them on any +account. I'll wait here until you get back—but go first to the +post-office and mail these."</p> + +<p>He wrapped the papers carefully in his handkerchief, placed them in his +vest-pocket, and started off.</p> + +<p>After he left, I leaned my elbow on the dusty window-sill and lounged +there awhile, watching him as he trotted busily down the deserted +street; then, rousing myself, I stretched my weary limbs and set about +arranging my desk, closing the safe, etc. At last everything was put in +order, and I seated myself in an arm-chair, rubbing my cramped fingers +and wrist, and afterward consulting my watch, more for something to do +than to ascertain the time, which the clock on the mantel-piece would +have told me.</p> + +<p>Only quarter past seven, and he might be detained until, half-past +eight. I leaned back and closed my eyes. How still and hot it was! I +believe I was the only human being in that whole long block of big +buildings on that July evening. Everything was as quiet as the typical +country churchyard. I had a lethargic sense now and then of the far-off +tinkle of a car-bell. I could catch a distant rumble from a passing +vehicle a block or two away. And, yes, I <i>did</i> observe the presence of a +dull, continuous drone, which proceeded from the direction of Baltimore +Street, but just as I sat up to hearken, some one passing whistled, +"Silver Threads among the Gold," the melody tracing itself upon the +stillness like phosphoric letters in a dark room. I listened with vivid +interest, but the tune presently grew fainter, faded, and was dissolved +into the dusk, leaving me lonelier than before, and too sleepy to give +my attention to the strange hum, of which I again became dully +conscious. It is tiresome work waiting here with nothing to do, was my +last drowsy thought, as I folded my arms on the desk, and rested my head +upon them, to be aroused by a knocking at my door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," I called.</p> + +<p>The door creaked on its hinges, and somebody entered. I waited an +instant, when an adolescent voice of the colored persuasion asked:</p> + +<p>"Do somebody name Mist' Dunkin live here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'm here; what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Dey wan's you down-y street."</p> + +<p>I stretched myself, reached mechanically for a match, and lighted the +gas, which disclosed a small yellow boy, standing in the doorway, some +fright and a good deal of excitement in his aspect. I then detected that +he had something important to tell, and that his errand was a source of +gratification to him.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" I asked, after we had stared at one another.</p> + +<p>"Ain't yer yeared nuth'n' 'tall?" a shade of contempt in his tone.</p> + +<p>"No, what is there to hear?" I asked, rather irascibly.</p> + +<p>"Dey's a big fight down-town; de folks dey done tore de Six Reggimen' +all ter pieces, an' dey's wuk'n 'long on de Fif now."</p> + +<p>"Whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>I started up, and got on my hat in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Dey's et Camd' Street depot, now. Ole colored gentlemun he's been +hurtid, an' sent me atter you."</p> + +<p>It did not take half a minute to lock the door and we proceeded +down-stairs together.</p> + +<p>"He's down yere on Eutaw Street," continued my informant. "Dey's +fightin' all 'long dere—I come nigh gittin' hit myself—<i>he</i> gimme ten +cents to come tell yer—maybe he's done dade now," he added, cheerfully, +as we gained the street, and began to walk.</p> + +<p>"Dey fet all 'long yere," was his next breathless remark, made some time +later. We were now proceeding rapidly up Baltimore Street, as rapidly, +at least, as people can who are pushing against a steady stream of +agitated humanity. "Dey fawr'd a bullet clean through de Sun-paper +room," pursued the boy, "an' dey bust up dem dere winder-glassis—"</p> + +<p>Pausing involuntarily to look, I caught stray scraps of additional +information.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five people killed."</p> + +<p>"As many as that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; fully, I should say. The Sixth fired right into the crowd, +all along from Gay to Eutaw Street."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hear the Sixth are pretty well cleaned out by this time, so +it's tit for tat."</p> + +<p>Then—</p> + +<p>"The Fifth must be there now—"</p> + +<p>"The Fifth?—what are they—two hundred men against two thousand?—Lord +knows how it will end. I hope this old town won't be burnt, that's all." +The boy, listening, turned fearfully around, looking with distended eyes +into mine. "Come on," I responded, and we spoke no more until we reached +Liberty Street. Then, all at once, above the street noises—the rumbling +of fugitive vehicles, the jingle of street-cars, and the hum of excited +voices—rose a deep, hollow roar; a horrible sound of human menace in +it, which was distinguishable even at that distance. The boy pressed +closer, clutching timidly at my hand.</p> + +<p>"Is yer—is yer gwine ter keep on?" he faltered.</p> + +<p>"De ole gentlemun, he 'lowed puticler you wa'n't to run no resk 'count +o' him."</p> + +<p>"Where <i>is</i> he?" I asked. "In the thick of it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; he's lay'n' down in a little alley—clean off d' street."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then; you'll have to show me where it is. I won't let you get +hurt."</p> + +<p>When we first wheeled into South Eutaw Street, I was conscious of an +almost painful stillness, more noticeable after the tumult of confused +sounds from which we had just emerged. The houses either side were fast +closed, doors and windows Some of them were even unlighted, and not +vehicle was in sight. The street was partially unpaved, where new +gas-pipes had been laid, and piles of paving-stones were heaped on the +edge of the sidewalks. The place seemed deserted.</p> + +<p>But presently, far down in the immediate vicinity of the depot, I +perceived accumulated a dense, dark mass, like a low-hanging cloud, from +which a low hoarse murmur seemed to proceed. It swayed slightly from +side to side, with the inevitable motion of a large crowd, while at the +same time it kept well within certain bounds. We walked quickly along, +block after block, without encountering a single soul. I had been so +engrossed with the dark, muttering pulsation in front, that I failed to +attend to the sounds from behind, until the boy, jerking my hand, bade +me listen to the drum. I heard it then plainly, as soon as he spoke, and +the approaching tramp of disciplined feet was soon after distinctly +audible. I turned and looked. The Fifth Regiment was marching down the +middle of North Eutaw Street, having not yet crossed Baltimore Street, +the drum corps in front, the colors flying, and crowding the sidewalks +on either hand was a motley van and bodyguard, consisting of street +loafers and half-grown boys, who had come along to see the "fun," and +whose sympathies were plainly with the rioters. The foremost of these +soon reached the spot where I stood, and as I drew aside to let them +pass, I heard a <i>gamin</i> say to his neighbor:</p> + +<p>"I say, Bill, these yere putty little soldier-boys hadn't better make +ther las' will an' testyment—ain't it?'"</p> + +<p>"I dunno 'bout that," replied the other, a veteran of fourteen, who was +chewing tobacco, and whom I recognized as a certain one-eyed newsboy.</p> + +<p>"These yere men hez fought in the late war, yer see, plenty of 'um, an' +you bet they don't carry no bokays on <i>ther</i> bayonits."</p> + +<p>As the column advanced, I glanced anxiously toward the human sea down +yonder. At first, no additional movement could be detected, then, as the +drums approached nearer, a quick stir, like a sudden gust, struck its +troubled waters; the hoarse, horrible cry tore raggedly through the +summer air. And then I hastily drew the terrified child with me into the +shade of a receding doorway—for the mad flood came raving over its +bounds toward us.</p> + +<p>The mob was mostly composed of men in their working-clothes, with bare +arms and gaunt, haggard faces. There were some women among +them—wretched, half-starved creatures—who kept shrieking like furies +all the time. As the regiment, still moving resolutely onward, +approached within a few yards of them, there fell the first volley of +stones, accompanied with hoots and jeers of derision.</p> + +<p>"Thuz only two hundred of 'um, boys," shouted a rough voice. "They'll +run quick enough if you give it to 'um good," and a second shower of +missiles fell into the ranks, the mob arming themselves with the +paving-stones at hand.</p> + +<p>But the little band of soldiers did not once falter, although here and +there in their ranks you could discover a man leaning against a comrade, +who gave him support as they moved on together. The crowd seemed a +little dashed. The dispersion of the Sixth Regiment had been such a mere +bagatelle, and their own number had, since then, been re-enforced by +half the professional rowdies in town. They redoubled their cries, +which, from jeers, now became shouts of rage and mortification.</p> + +<p>"Wot are you 'bout? Give it to 'um <i>good</i>, I tell yer. They daresn't +fire," howled the same brawny giant who had spoken before.</p> + +<p>As they continued the attack, a pistol-shot could be heard now and then +from the crowd. The regiment did not return the fire, but as the mob +pressed closer, an order from the front was passed along the line.</p> + +<p>"Fix bayonets."</p> + +<p>The opposing parties were now only a few feet apart, and a rain of +stones was falling so thick and fast as to darken the air, when all at +once I saw the colonel's sword flash out, the blunt edge striking one of +the rioters who was pressing on him.</p> + +<p>"Clear the way, there!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Then, wheeling and facing his command, his voice rang out, clear as a +bugle;</p> + +<p>"A—r—m—s, 'port! Double-time, march! Ch—ar—ge, bayonets! Hurrah! +Give 'em a yell, boys, and you can do it," added the colonel.</p> + +<p>I cannot describe the shout which followed—a clear, ringing, organized +whoop; fresh and vibrant; of a perfectly distinct quality from the +hoarse, undisciplined howl of the mob—sounding cool and terrible, like +the cry of an avenging angel.</p> + +<p>The mob turned and fled, appalled, melting away like wax before the blue +flame of the glittering bayonets, and the regiment entered the depot.</p> + +<p>Then I took time to breathe, and remembered Thomas.</p> + +<p>"He ain't fur f'om yere," said the boy. "Right 'roun' d' corner."</p> + +<p>And we passed out of the shelter of the doorway to a small, dirty alley, +about twenty-five yards distant, where I found the old man resting +against a lamp-post, the blood streaming down his face from a ghastly +wound in the head, and his eyes closed. I made the boy get some water, +and after bathing his face for a few moments, I succeeded in rousing +him.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mist' Dunkin?" he asked, faintly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. How do you feel, Thomas?"</p> + +<p>"Dey's tuhibul times down-street," he gasped. "I like to got kilt."</p> + +<p>A pause.</p> + +<p>"Dey 'lowed dey wanted dem daih papehs—an'—dey didn't git +'um—an'—den—den dey hit me side de hade—with a brickbat—an' I come +'long tell I git yeah—an' den, disha boy he come 'long—"</p> + +<p>His voice was very faint and his hands very cold</p> + +<p>"Don't talk any more now," I said, chafing them in mine, while I +wondered perplexedly how I should get him home. Presently he spoke +again:</p> + +<p>"But de papehs is all right, seh. I hilt on to 'um, sho'. Dey—dey +couldn't git 'um nohow, wid all de smahtniss," he said, with feeble +triumph. "Dey's right yeah in my wescut pocket." Then he added, with a +sudden change of tone: "But I'd like to go home, Mist' Dunkin; Ailse'll +be oneasy 'bout me."</p> + +<p>I had to leave him with the boy while I went for a doctor and a vehicle, +neither of which was easy to be had, but finally a milk-wagon was +pressed into service, and although the mob had gathered together again, +and were besieging the depot, yet, after some delay, we succeeded in +conveying him to his home. I saw him safe in bed, his hurt dressed; +then, after bestowing a reward upon the colored boy, who had rendered me +such efficient service, I left him in charge of the doctor and his wife.</p> + +<p>The latter was a small, plump yellow woman, with large, gentle black +eyes, and the soft voice so often found among Virginia "house" servants. +After watching her as she assisted the surgeon to dress the wound, I +came to the conclusion all of her talents were by no means "bound up in +napkins," and I went home assured my faithful old messenger was left in +very capable hands.</p> + +<p>Next morning, directly after breakfast, I sallied forth to inquire +concerning his condition. After passing along the crowded thoroughfares, +where everybody was occupied with the riot, it was a relief to find +myself turning into the obscure little street where he lived.</p> + +<p>"Here, at least, everything seems peaceful enough," I said, aloud, as I +approached the house. I was just in the act of placing my foot on the +one door-step, when the door was thrown violently open, and a tall black +woman bounced out, colliding with me as she passed, her superior +momentum thrusting me backward across the narrow pavement into the +street. She was too excited to heed my exclamation of astonishment. I +don't think she saw me, even, for she turned immediately and faced some +one standing in the doorway, whom I now perceived to be Ailse, looking +dreadfully frightened.</p> + +<p>"<i>Good</i>-mornin', Mis' Wheatley," said the Amazon, with withering +sarcasm; "<i>good</i>-mornin', madam. I <i>think</i> you'll know it the nex' time +I darkens your doors, I <i>think</i> you will. Served me right, though, we'en +I <i>demeaned</i> myself to come; I might 'a' knowed what treatment I'd +'eceive from <i>you</i>. Ef I hadn't ben boun' by solemn class-rules to pay +some 'tention to Brother Wheatley's immortal soul "—these words were +uttered at the very top of her voice—"you wouldn't 'a' caught <i>me</i> +comin'; but I'll never come ag'in, never; so make yourself easy, Mis' +Wheatley."</p> + +<p>A shade of relief passed over Ailse's features as this assurance was +repeated, and I coming forward at this moment, the representative of the +church militant betook herself off, while I entered and spoke to Ailse, +who, fairly dazed, sank into a chair, and stared me helplessly in the +face. There was a moment's silence, when she suddenly rose and offered +me a seat, remarking, as she did so, that "Sisteh Ma'y Ann Jinkins +ca'in' on so" made her forget her manners.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" said I.</p> + +<p>"I dunno, seh, 'cep'n' she's mad 'cause docteh won't leave heh stay and +talk to Mist' Wheatley; <i>he</i> made heh go, an' I s'pose hit kindeh put +heh out."</p> + +<p>"What was she doing?"</p> + +<p>"Talkin', seh; jiss talkin' and prayin'."</p> + +<p>"And exciting the man into a fever," said the doctor, entering at that +moment. "I came here half an hour ago," he continued, turning to me, +"and found this woman—who really is a good nurse—turned out of her +husband's room by that termagant who has just gone, and whom I found in +the act of preparing the man for death, <i>she</i> having decided his hours +on earth were numbered; in fact, I actually chanced in upon a species of +commendatory prayer, which, if continued another half hour—and I have +every reason to think it would have been—would almost inevitably have +ended the man's life."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I had better not see him this morning, then," said I.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; <i>you</i> can see him; he's doing well now, and if he doesn't talk +too much, I think the sight of a cheerful face will do him good," and I +left him giving some directions to Ailse, while I proceeded up-stairs to +the room where Thomas lay. He was awake, so I walked up to his bedside, +and asked him how he felt.</p> + +<p>"I'm tollubul, thankee, seh; de medicine makes me kind o' sleepy, that's +all."</p> + +<p>I seated myself beside him, there was a moment or two of silence, then +he asked, fretfully:</p> + +<p>"Whai—whaih's Ailse? I like to see the 'oman 'roun'; s'haint got no +speshul great gif', but she's kind o' handy wen a body's sick."</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to care so much for gifted women in a sick-room, +Thomas?" I remarked, somewhat mischievously, after I had summoned his +wife from down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"Well, naw, seh," a little shamefacedly. "Not so much. You see, seh, +dey—dey's mos' too much fu' a body, sich times. Dey <i>will</i> talk, you'se +dey will, an' 'livah 'scouhcis, an' a sick man he hain't got de strenth +to—to supplicate in kine, an' hit kind o' mawtifies him, seh."</p> + +<p>Once more there followed a silence, when I asked:</p> + +<p>"Thomas, why didn't you give up those papers to the mob, when they +attacked you last night? Your retaining them might have cost you your +life. I didn't mean you to endanger your life for them."</p> + +<p>He smiled slightly, as his glance met mine.</p> + +<p>"I dunno, seh," he replied, with his old reflective air. "You tole me +mos' pehticaleh to hole on to 'um, an' 'twouldn't be doin' my duty +faithful to let 'um go 's long ez I could hole on to 'um."</p> + +<p>"But suppose they had killed you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mist' Dunkin, ef dey had, I hope I'd been ready to go. I ben +tryin' to lead a godly an' Chris'chun life, ez Scripcheh sez, fu' fawty +yeahs, now, an' I hope I'd a foun' dyin' grace at de las'. You see, seh, +thing hoped me mos' was de thoughts of a tex' Bro' Moss preached on las' +Sund'y; 'peached like hit hep' on jinglin' in my hade all time dey was +jawin' an' fightin' with me."</p> + +<p>"What text was it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>But he was almost asleep, and his wife signalled me not to wake him. So +I was stealing away toward the door, when he opened his eyes and +murmured, drowsily:</p> + +<p>"De tex', oh yes, seh. I fo'got—'twas a Scripcheh tex'—'Be thou +faithful unto—'"</p> + +<p>He then turned over, settling himself comfortably in his pillows, and in +a moment dropped asleep.</p> + +<p>In due course of time, he made his appearance in the office again, being +anxious to "resume his duties," he said. But that blow on the head has +proved to be a serious affair, affecting the old man's memory +permanently, and giving a violent shock to his system, from which it +will never entirely recover. He is no longer the clear-headed messenger +he was, when he was wont to assert—no idle boast either—that he could +"fetch an' cai' eq'il to any man." Now and then, in these latter days, +he confuses things a little, always suffering the keenest mortification +when he discovers his mistakes. As I said in the beginning, he is still +our office-boy and messenger, although a smart young mulatto is hired to +come betimes, make things tidy, and leave before the old man gets down, +so his feelings mayn't be hurt. He sometimes remarks on our being the +"cleanis' gentlemun in de wueld," but we contrive that no whisper of the +real state of the case ever reaches his ear, and he is allowed to sweep +and dust a little to satisfy his mind.</p> + +<p>FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<div class=note><a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> A virtuous woman.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="THE_HEARTBREAK_CAMEO"></a><h2>THE HEARTBREAK CAMEO.</h2> + +<h2>By LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.</h2> + +<p>"It is a cameo to break one's heart!" said Mrs. Dalliba, as she toyed +with the superb jewel. "The cutting is unmistakably Florentine, and yet +you have placed it among your Indian curiosities. I do not understand it +at all."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dalliba was a connoisseur in gems; she had travelled from one +extremity of Europe to the other; had studied the crown jewels of nearly +every civilized nation, haunted museums, and was such a frequent visitor +at the jewellers' of the Palais Royal, that many of them had come to +regard her as an individual who might harbor burglarious intentions. She +was a very harmless specialist, however, who, though she loved these +stars of the underworld better than any human being, could never have +been tempted to make one of them unfairly her own, and she seldom +purchased, for she never coveted one unless it was something quite +extraordinary, beyond the reach of even her considerable fortune. +Meanwhile few of the larger jewelry houses had in their employ +lapidaries more skilled than Mrs. Dalliba. She pursued her studies for +the mere love of the science, devoting a year in Italy to mosaics, +cameos, and intaglios. And yet the Crèvecoeur cameo had puzzled wiser +heads than Mrs. Dalliba's, adept though she was. It was cut from a solid +heart-shaped gem, a layer of pure white, shading down through exquisite +gradations into deep green, and representing Aphrodite rising from the +sea; the white foam rose gracefully, with arms extended, scattering the +drops of spray from her hands and her wind-blown hair; the foamy waves +were beautifully cut with their intense hollows and snowy crests; it was +evidently the work of a cultivated as well as a natural artist; it was +not surprising that Mrs. Dalliba should insist that it could not have +been executed out of Italy.</p> + +<p>But Prof. Stonehenge was right too; it was a stone of the chalcedonic +family, resembling sardonyx, except in color; others, similar to it both +in a natural state and wrought into arrow-heads, had been found along +the shores of Lake Superior. This seemed to have been brought away from +its associates by some wandering tribe, for it had been discovered in +Central Illinois. The nearest point at which other relics belonging to +the same period had been found was the site of Fort Crèvecoeur, near +Starved Rock, Illinois. After all, the stone only differed from the +arrow-heads of Lake Superior in its beautiful carving and unprecedented +size—and, ah, yes! there was another difference, the mystery of its +discovery. No other skeleton among all the buried braves unearthed by +scientific research at Crèvecoeur had been found with a gem for a +heart—a gem that glittered not on the breast, but within a chest hooped +with human bone. Mrs. Dalliba had just remarked that she had never felt +so strong a desire to possess and wear any jewel as now; but when Prof. +Stonehenge told how the uncanny thing rattled within the white ribs of +the skeleton in which it was found, she allowed the gem to slip from her +hand, while something of its own pale green flickered in the disgusted +expression which quivered about the corners of her mobile mouth. The +cameo was a mystery which had baffled geologist, antiquarian, and +sculptor alike, for Father Francis Xavier had gone down to his grave +with his secret and his cameo hidden in his heart. He had kept both well +for two centuries, and when the heart crumbled in dust it took its +secret with it, leaving only the cameo to bewilder conjecture.</p> + +<p>Its story was, after all, a simple one. On the southern shore of +Michillimackinac, in the romantic days of the first exploration of the +great lakes by the Courreurs de Bois and pioneer priests, had settled +good Père Ignace, a devoted Jesuit missionary. The old man was revered +and loved by the Indians among whom he dwelt. His labors blossomed in a +little village, called from his patron saint the mission of St. Ignace, +that displayed its cluster of white huts and wigwams like the petals of +a water-lily on the margin of the lake. Just back of the village was a +round knoll which served as a landmark on the lake, for the shore near +St. Ignace was remarkably level. On the summit of this mound the good +father had reared a great white cross, and at its foot the superstitious +Indians often laid votive offerings of strongly incongruous character. +Here he had lived and taught for many years, succeeding in instructing +his little flock in the French tongue, and in at least an outward +semblance of the Catholic religion. Even the rude trappers, who came to +trade at regular intervals, revered him, and lived like good Christians +while at the mission, so as not to counteract his teaching by their +lawless example. Here Père Ignace was growing old, and even this +grasshopper of a spiritual charge was becoming a burden. His superior, +at Montreal, understood this, and sent him an assistant.</p> + +<p>Very unlike Father Ignatius was Père François Xavier, a man with all the +fire and enthusiasm of youth in his blood—just the one for daring, +hazardous enterprises; just the one to undergo all the privation and +toil of planting a mission; to undertake plans requiring superhuman +efforts, and to carry them through successfully by main force of will. A +better assistant for Father Ignatius could not have been found. It was +force, will, and intellect in the service of love and meekness; only +there was a doubt if the servant might not usurp the place of the +master, and the sway of love be not materially advanced by its new ally. +Indeed, if the truth had been known, even the Bishop of Montreal had +felt that Father Francis Xavier was too ambitious a character to reside +safely in too close proximity to himself; and engrossing employment at a +distance for him, rather than the expressed solicitude for Father +Ignatius, prompted this appointment. The results of the following year +approved the arrangement. The mission received a new accession of life; +its interests were pushed forward energetically.</p> + +<p>Father Francis Xavier devoted himself to an acquisition of the various +Indian dialects, and to excursions among the neighboring tribes. +Converts were made in astonishing numbers, and they brought liberal +gifts to the little church from their simple possessions. Father +Ignatius had never thought to barter with the trappers and traders, but +his colleague did; large church warehouses were erected, and the mission +soon had revenues of importance. Away in the interior Father Xavier had +discovered there was a silver mine; but this discovery, for the present, +he made no attempt at exploiting. He had secured it to the church by +title deed and treaty with the chief who claimed it; had visited it and +assured himself that it would some day be very valuable, and he +contented himself with this for the present, and even managed to forget +its acquisition in his yearly report sent to Montreal. Father Francis +Xavier was something of a geologist; his father was a Florentine +jeweller, and the son had studied as his apprentice, not having at first +been destined for the church. Even after taking holy orders, Father +Francis Xavier had labored over precious stones designed for +ecclesiastical decoration. His specialty had been that of a gem +engraver, and his long white fingers were remarkably skilful and +delicate. This northern region, with all its wealth of precious stones, +was a great jewel casket for him, and he became at once an enthusiastic +collector.</p> + +<p>Before the coming of his assistant, Father Ignatius had managed his own +simple housekeeping in all its most humble details. Now they had the +services of an Indian maid of all work, who had been brought up under +the eyes of Father Ignatius, and whom the old man regarded rather as a +daughter than as a servant. Her moccasined feet fell as silently as +those of spirits as she glided about their lodge. She never sang at her +work, and rarely spoke, but she smiled often with a smile so childlike +as to be almost silly in expression. Father Ignatius loved the silent +smile, and a word from him was always sure to bring it; but it angered +Father Francis Xavier more than many a more repulsive thing would have +done. It seemed so utterly imbecile and babyish to him, he had got so +far away from innocence and smiles and childhood himself, that the +sight of them irritated him. The young Indian girl had a long and almost +unpronounceable name. Père Ignace had baptized her Marie, and the new +name had gradually taken the place of the old.</p> + +<p>One day, as she was silently but dexterously putting to order the large +upper room, which served Père Francis Xavier as study and dormitory, she +paused before his collection of agates and minerals, and stroking the +stones, said in her soft French and Indian patois, "Pretty, pretty." +Father Xavier was seated at the great open window, looking over the top +of his book away across the breezy lake. He heard the words, and knew +that she was looking at him from the corner of her eye, but his only +reply was a deeper scowl and a lowering of his glance to the printed +page. The silly smile which he felt sure was upon her face faded out, +but the girl spoke again, and this time more resolutely, determined to +attract his attention. "Pretty stones. Marie's father many more, much +prettier—much."</p> + +<p>Father Xavier laid down his book. He was all attention. "Where did your +father get them?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"In the mountains climb, in the mines dig, in the lake dive, he seek +them all the time summer."</p> + +<p>"What does he do with them?"</p> + +<p>"Cuts them like <i>mon père</i>," and Marie imitated in pantomime the use of +the hammer and chisel. "Cut them all time winter, very many."</p> + +<p>"What does he do that for?" asked the priest, surprised.</p> + +<p>"All the same you," replied the girl—"make arrow-heads."</p> + +<p>"Oh! he makes arrow-heads, does he? Mine are not arrow-heads, but I +should like to see what your father does. Does he live far from here?"</p> + +<p>"Marie take you to-night in canoe."</p> + +<p>"Very well, after supper."</p> + +<p>She had often taken him out upon the lake before, for she managed their +birch-bark canoe with more skill than himself, and it was convenient to +have some one to paddle while he fished or read or dreamed. She rowed +him swiftly up the lake for several miles, then, fastening the canoe, +led the way through a trail in the forest. The sun was setting, and "the +whispering pines and the hemlocks" of the forest primeval formed a +tapestry of gloom around the paternal wigwam as they reached it. Black +Beaver, her father, reclined lazily in the door, watching the coals of +the little fire in front of his tent. He was always lazy. It was +difficult to believe that he ever climbed or dug or dived for agates as +Marie had said, so complete a picture he seemed of inaction. The girl +spoke a few words to him in their native dialect, and he grumblingly +rose, shuffled into the interior of the wigwam, and brought out two +baskets. One was a shallow tray filled with the finished heads in great +variety of material and color. There were white carnelian, delicately +striped with prophetic red, blood-stone deep colored and hard as ruby, +agates of every shade and marking, flinty jasper, emerald-banded +malachite, delicate rose color, and purple one made from shells, and +various crystals with whose names Father Francis Xavier was unfamiliar. +There was one shading from dark green through to red, only a drop of the +latter color on the very tip of the arrow where blood would first kiss +blood. Father Xavier looked at it in wondering admiration, and at last +asked Black Beaver what he called it.</p> + +<p>"It is a devil-stone," replied the Indian. "More here," and he opened +the deeper basket in which were stored the unground and uncut stones, +and placed a superb gem in Father Xavier's hand. He had ground it +sufficiently to show that it was in two layers, white and green; in this +there was no touch of red, but in every other respect it was the +handsomer stone.</p> + +<p>"Will you sell it to me?" asked the priest. "How much?"</p> + +<p>The Indian smiled with an expression strangely like that of his +daughter, and put it back with alacrity in his basket, saying, "Me no +sell big devil-stone. No money buy."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean to do with it?" asked Father Xavier.</p> + +<p>"Make arrow-head—very hungry—no blood;" and he indicated the absence +of the red tint. "Very hungry—kill very much—never have enough!"</p> + +<p>"Then you mean to keep it and use it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the other. "Me no hunt game—hunt stones."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with it?" asked the puzzled priest.</p> + +<p>"Give it away," said Black Beaver—"give away to greatest—"</p> + +<p>"Chief?" asked Father Xavier.</p> + +<p>Black Beaver shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Friend then?"</p> + +<p>"No," grunted the arrow-head maker—"give away to big <i>enemy</i>!"</p> + +<p>"What did he mean by that?" Father Xavier asked of Marie on their way +back to the mission. And the girl explained the superstition that +Indians of their own tribe never killed an enemy with ordinary weapons, +for fear that his soul would wait for theirs in the Happy Hunting +Grounds; but if he was shot with a devil-stone, the soul could not fly +upward, but would sink through all eternity, until it reached the +deepest spot of all the great lakes under the stony gaze of the Doom +Woman.</p> + +<p>When he inquired further as to the whereabouts of the Doom Woman's +residence he ascertained that she was only a sharp cliff among "the +pictured rocks of sandstone" of the upper lake—a cliff that viewed from +either side maintained its resemblance to a female profile looking +sternly down at the water beneath it, which was here believed to be +unfathomable. The Doom Woman still exists. Strange to say, under its +sharp-cut features a steamer has since been wrecked and sunk, and its +expression of gloomy fate is now awfully appropriate. Marie had visited +"the great Sea Water" with her father. Nature's titanic and fanciful +frescoing and cameo-cutting had strongly wrought upon her impressionable +mind, and the old legends and superstitions of paganism had been by no +means effaced by the very slight veneer of Christianity which she had +received at the mission.</p> + +<p>From this evening Father Xavier's manner toward her changed. Her smile +no longer seemed to irritate him, and a close observer might have +noticed that she smiled less than formerly. He talked with her more, +paid closer attention to her studies, made her little presents from time +to time, and spoke to her always with studied gentleness that was quite +foreign to his nature. And Marie watched him at work over his stones, +spent her spare time in rambling in search of those which she had +learned he liked, and laid upon his table without remark each new +discovery of quartz, or crystal, or pebble. She had been in the habit of +making little boxes which she decorated with a rude mosaic of small +shells, and Father Xavier noticed that these gradually acquired more +taste and were arranged with some eye to the harmonies of color, while +the forms were copied with Chinese accuracy from patterns on the +bindings of his books or the borders of the religious pictures. Marie +was developing under an art education which, if carried far enough, +might effect great things. She even managed his graving tools with a +good deal of accuracy, copying designs which he set her, until he +wondered what his father would have thought of so apt an apprentice.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, one morning in midsummer, Marie announced that she should +leave them. Her father was going on a long expedition for stones to the +head of Lake Superior, and she did not know when she might return. As +she imparted this information she watched Father Xavier from the corner +of her eye, and something of the old childish smile reappeared as he +showed that he was really annoyed.</p> + +<p>The summer passed profitably for the Black Beaver, and he began to think +of returning to St. Ignace with his small store of valuable stones +before the fall gales should set in. He was just a few days too late. +When within sight of Michillimackinac a storm arose driving them out +upon the open lake, and playing with their canoe as though it were a +cockle-shell. When the storm abated a cloudy night had set in; no land +was visible in any direction; they had completely lost their direction, +and knew not toward which point to seek the shore. Paddling at hazard +might take them further out into the centre of the lake, and indeed they +were too worn with battling with the storm to do any more than keep the +tossed skiff from capsizing. Morning dawned wet and gray, after a +miserable night; they were drenched to the skin, and almost spent with +weariness and hunger, and now that a wan and ghostly daylight had come +they were no better for it, for an impenetrable fog shut them in on +every side. Marie and her mother began to pray. The Black Beaver sat +dogged and inert, with upturned face, regarding the sky.</p> + +<p>The day wore by wearily; some of the time they paddled straight onward, +with sinking hearts, knowing not toward what they were going, and at +others rested with the inaction of despair. When the position of the +bright spot which meant the sun told that it lacked but an hour of +sunset, and the clouds seemed to be thickening rather than dispersing, +the Black Beaver gave a long and hideous howl. His wife and daughter +shuddered when they heard it, as would any one, for a more unearthly and +discordant cry was never uttered by man or beast; but they had double +reason to shudder; it was the death cry of their nation.</p> + +<p>"We can never live through another night," said he, and he covered his +face with his arms.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Marie, "try what power there is in the white man's God. +Say that you will give Him your devil-stone if He will save us now."</p> + +<p>"The priest may have it," said the Black Beaver, and he uncovered his +face and sat up as though expecting a miracle. And the miracle came. The +sun was setting behind them, and in front, somewhat above the horizon, +the clouds parted, forming a circle about a white cross which hung +suspended in the air. They all saw it distinctly, but only for a few +moments; then the clouds closed and the vision vanished. With new hope +the little party rowed toward the spot where they had last seen it, and +through the fog they could dimly discern the outlines of the coast—they +were nearing land. A little further on, and a village was visible, which +gained a more and more familiar aspect as they approached. Night settled +down before they reached it, but ere their feet touched the land they +had recognized the mission of St. Ignace. The cross was not a vision. +The clouds had parted to show them the great white landmark and sign +which Father Ignatius had raised upon the little knoll.</p> + +<p>The next day the Black Beaver unearthed his devil-stone, and fastening a +silver chain to it, was about to carry it away and attach it to the +cross, which was already loaded with the gifts of the little colony; but +Marie took it from his hand. "I will give it to the good priest myself," +she said. "He may see fit to place it on the image of the Virgin in the +church."</p> + +<p>A few days later Marie placed the coveted stone in Father Xavier's hand; +but what was his bitter disappointment to find that she had marred the +exquisite thing by a rude attempt at a delineation upon it of the vision +of the cross. She had carefully chiselled away the milky white layer, +excepting on the crests of some very primitive representations of waves, +and within the awkwardly plain cross in the centre of the gem. All his +hopes of cutting a face upon this lovely jewel were crushed; it was +ruined by her unskilful work. Father Xavier was completely master of his +own emotions. He took the stone without remark, and hung it, as Marie +requested, about the neck of the Madonna. Each day as he said mass the +sight of the mutilated jewel roused within him resentful feelings +against poor, well-wishing little Marie. He had been very kind to her +since he had first seen the stone in the possession of her father, but +now it was worse than before. He avoided her markedly, for the smile +which so annoyed him still lighted her face whenever she saw him, and +there was in it a reproachful sadness which was even more aggravating +than its simple childishness had been.</p> + +<p>One day Father Xavier, in turning over his papers, came across an old +etching of Venus rising from the sea. The figure, with its outstretched +arms, suggested a possibility to him. He made a careful tracing of it, +took it to the church, and laid it upon the stone. All of its outlines +came within the white cross; there was still hope for the cameo. All +that winter Father Xavier toiled upon it, exhausting his utmost skill, +but never exhausting his patience. His chief trial was in the extreme +hardness of the stone, which rapidly wore out his graving tools. At last +it was finished, and Father Xavier confessed to himself, in all +humility, that he had not only never executed so delicate a piece of +workmanship, but he had never seen its equal. Every curve of the +exquisite-hued waves was studied from the swell that sometimes swept +grandly in from the lake on the long reef of rocks a few miles above St. +Ignace. The form of the goddess was modelled from his remembrance of the +Greek antique. It was a gem worthy of an emperor. What should he do with +it?</p> + +<p>As the spring ripened into summer, ambitious thoughts flowered in Père +Francis Xavier's soul. What a grand bishopric this whole western country +would make with its unexplored wealth of mines, and furs, and forest! +Why should he be obliged to make reports of the revenue which his own +financiering had secured to the mission, to the head at Montreal? Why +should not his reverence the Lord Bishop Francis Xavier dwell in an +episcopal palace built somewhere on these lakes, with unlimited +spiritual and temporal sway over all this country? To effect such a +scheme it would be necessary for him to see both the King of France and +the Pope. He was not sure that even if he could return to Europe +immediately, he had the influence necessary in either quarter, but the +cameo was a step in the right direction. Something of the same thought +occurred at the same time to the Bishop of Montreal. Father Xavier's +reports showed the mission to be in a flourishing condition. The first +struggles of the pioneer were over. Father Xavier must not be left in +too luxurious a position. The Chevalier La Salle was now fitting out his +little band designed to explore the lakes and follow the Mississippi +from its source to the Gulf. A most important expedition; it would be +well that the Jesuit fathers should share in the honors if it proved +successful, and if the little party perished in its hazardous enterprise +Père Francis Xavier could perhaps be spared as easily as any member of +his spiritual army.</p> + +<p>And so, in the summer of 1679, the Chevalier sailed up the Lac du +Dauphin, as Lake Erie was then called, into the Lac d'Orleans, or Huron, +carrying letters in which Père Francis Xavier was ordered to leave his +charge for a time in order to render all the assistance in his power to +the explorers. The Bishop of Montreal could never have guessed with what +heartfelt joy his command was obeyed. Father Xavier was tired of this +peaceful life, tired of "the endless wash of melancholy waves," of the +short cool summers, and long white blank of winter; tired of inaction, +of the lack of stimulating surroundings, of the gentleness of Father +Ignatius and Marie's haunting smile. Here, too, might be the very +occasion he craved of making himself famous and deserving of reward as +an explorer. It was true that he started as a subordinate, but that was +no reason that he should return in the same capacity. Marie had served +the noble guests with pleasant alacrity, passing the rainbow-tinted +trout caught as well as broiled by her own hand, and the luscious +huckleberries in tasteful baskets of her own braiding, and Tontz Main de +Fer, the chivalric companion and friend of La Salle, was moved like +Geraint, served by Enid, "to stoop and kiss the dainty little thumb +that crossed the trencher." The salutation was received with unconscious +dignity by little Marie; once only was Père François Xavier annoyed by +the absence of a display of childish pleasure in an ever-ready smile.</p> + +<p>History tells how trial and privation of every kind waited on this +little band of heroic men; how hunger, and cold, and fever dogged their +steps; how the Indians proved treacherous and hostile; how, having +reached central Illinois, after incredible exertion, they found +themselves in the dead of winter unable to proceed further, and +surrounded by tribes incited against them by some unknown enemy. A +fatality seemed to hang over them; suspicious occurrences indicated that +they had a traitor among their number, but he was never discovered. La +Salle did not despair or abandon the enterprise; but when six of his +most trusted men mutinied and deserted, he lost hope, and became seized +with a presentiment that he would never return from his expedition. +Father Xavier was his confidant as well as confessor, but he seems not +to have been able to disperse the gloom which settled over the leader's +mind. Perhaps he did not endeavor to do so. Hopeless but still true to +his trust, La Salle constructed near Peoria a fort which he named +Crèvecoeur, in token of his despondency and disappointment. Leaving +Tontz Main de Fer in command here with the greater part of his men, he +set out with five for Frontenac, on the 2d of March, 1680, intending to +return with supplies to take command again of his party, and to proceed +southward. It was at this point that the most inexplicable event of the +entire enterprise occurred. Before the party divided <i>some one</i> +attempted to poison the Chevalier La Salle. The poison was a subtle and +slow one, similar in its effects to those used by the Borgia family; the +secret of its manufacture was thought to be unknown out of Italy. +Fortunately he had taken an under or overdose of it, and the effects +manifested themselves only in a long illness. He was too far on his +journey from Fort Heartbreak when stricken down to return to it, and was +mercifully received and nursed back to health by the friendly +Pottawottamies.</p> + +<p>While the leader was lying sick in an Indian lodge, the knightly Tontz, +ignorant of the fate of his friend, was having his troubles at the +little fort of Heartbreak. Père François Xavier had remained with him, +and aided him with counsels and personal exertions; he had made himself +so indispensable that he was now lieutenant; if anything should happen +to Tontz, he would be commander. He was secretary of the expedition, +drew careful maps, and made voluminous daily entries in a journal, which +was afterward found to be a marvel of painstaking both in the facts and +fictions which it contained. Scanty mention was there of La Salle and +Tontz Main de Fer, and much of Père François Xavier, but it was clear, +explicit, depicting the advantages of an acquisition of this territory +to the crown of France in glowing terms, and strongly advising that the +man who had most distinguished himself in the difficulties of its +discovery should be appointed as governor, or baron, under the royal +authority.</p> + +<p>While Father Xavier was compiling this remarkable piece of authorship, +the Iroquois descended in warlike array upon the somewhat friendly +disposed Illinois Indians, in whose midst Fort Crèvecoeur had been +built. The suspicious Indian mind immediately connected the advent of +their enemies with the building of the fort, and regarded the little +garrison with distrust. Tontz, at the instance of Father Xavier, +presented himself to their chief, and offered to do anything in his +power to prove his friendly intentions. The chief accepted his services, +and sent him as ambassador to inquire into the cause of the coming of +the Iroquois. This mission had nearly been his last, for Tontz was +received with stabs, and hardly allowed to give the message of the +chief. His ill-treatment at the hands of their enemies did not reassure +the suspicious Illinois, who ordered Tontz to immediately evacuate the +fort and return with his forces to the country whence he had come. In +his wounded condition such a journey was extremely hazardous, and it +must have been with grave doubts as to his surviving it that Father +Xavier took temporary command of the returning expedition.</p> + +<p>It was in the spring of 1681. Father Xavier had been absent nearly two +years. Father Ignatius missed him sadly—all the life and fire seemed +have gone out of the mission. Even Marie moved about her work in a +listless, languid way, which contrasted markedly with her once lithe and +rapid movements. They had not once heard from the explorers, and Father +Ignatius shook his head sadly, and feared that he would never see his +energetic colleague again. The Black Beaver had slept through the last +months of winter, and, as with the general awakening of spring the bears +came out of their dens, and the snakes sunned themselves near their +holes, he too stretched himself lazily and awoke to a consciousness of +what was passing around him. In the first place something was amiss with +Marie. When she came to the wigwam it was not to chat merrily of the +affairs of the mission. She did not braid as many baskets as formerly, +and no longer showed him new patterns in shell mosaic on the lids of +little boxes. He was a curious old man, and he soon drew her secret from +her. Marie loved Père François Xavier, and he had gone.</p> + +<p>The Black Beaver went down to the mission one evening and had a long +talk with Father Ignatius. He ascertained first that Père François +Xavier really meant to return; then, with all the dignity of an old +feudal baron, he offered Marie as a bride for his spiritual son. Very +gently the good Père Ignace explained that Romish priests were so nearly +in the kingdom of heaven that the question of marrying and giving in +marriage was not for them to consider. The Black Beaver went home, told +no one of his visit, and for several days indulged in the worst drunken +spree of which he was capable. When he came out of it he announced to +his wife and Marie that he was going away on his annual trip for stores, +but that they need not accompany him.</p> + +<p>Marie knelt as usual in the little church on the evening of the day on +which her father had gone away. Père François Xavier had replaced the +cameo on the Virgin's breast before he went; it was a safer place than +the vault of a bank would have been, had such a thing existed in the +country. There was no one in the island sacrilegious enough to rob the +church. Marie had gazed at the stone each time that she repeated the +prayer which he had taught her. She looked up now, and it was gone.</p> + +<p>Half way upon their northward route, Tontz's band were struggling +wearily on when they were met by a solitary Indian, who, though he +carried a long bow, had not an unfriendly aspect. He eyed the little +band silently as they passed by him in defile, then ran after them, and +inquired if the Père François Xavier, of Mission St. Ignace, was not of +their number. He was informed that the reverend father had remained a +short distance behind to write in his journal, but that he would soon +overtake them; and he was warmly pressed to remain with them if he had +messages for the priest, and give them to him when he arrived; but the +Indian shook his head and passed on in the direction in which they told +him he would be likely to meet Father Xavier. The party halted and +waited hour after hour for the priest, but he did not come. Finally two +went back in search, and found him lying upon the sod with upturned +face—the place where he had written last in his journal marked by a few +drops of his heart's blood, and the long shaft of an arrow protruding +from his breast. They drew it out, but the arrow-head had been attached +as is the custom in some Indian tribes, by means of a soft wax, which is +melted by the warmth of the body, and it remained in the heart. Father +Xavier had been dead some hours. They buried him where they found him, +and proceeded on their march. Tontz recovered on the way. They reached +Michillimackinac in safety, where they were joined two months later by +La Salle; and the world knows the result of his second expedition.</p> + +<p>Little Marie learned by degrees to smile again, and in after years +married another arrow-head maker, as swarthy and as shaggy as the Black +Beaver. There is no moral to my story except that of poetic justice. +Père François Xavier had sown a plentiful crop of stratagems, and he +learned in the lonely forest that "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he +also reap."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile to all but you, my readers, the Crèvecoeur cameo remains as +great a mystery as ever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="MISS_EUNICE'S_GLOVE"></a><h2>MISS EUNICE'S GLOVE</h2> + +<h2>By Albert Webster.</h2> + +<p>I.</p> +<br> + +<p>For a long time blithe and fragile Miss Eunice, demure, correct in +deportment, and yet not wholly without enthusiasm, thought that day the +unluckiest in her life on which she first took into her hands that +unobtrusive yet dramatic book, "Miss Crofutt's Missionary Labors in the +English Prisons."</p> + +<p>It came to her notice by mere accident, not by favor of proselyting +friends; and such was its singular material, that she at once devoured +it with avidity. As its title suggests, it was the history of the +ameliorating endeavors of a woman in criminal society, and it contained, +perforce, a large amount of tragic and pathetic incident. But this last +was so blended and involved with what Miss Eunice would have skipped as +commonplace, that she was led to digest the whole volume—statistics, +philosophy, comments, and all. She studied the analysis of the +atmosphere of cells, the properties and waste of wheaten flour, the cost +of clothing to the general government, the whys and wherefores of crime +and evil-doing; and it was not long before there was generated within +her bosom a fine and healthy ardor to emulate this practical and +courageous pattern.</p> + +<p>She was profoundly moved by the tales of missionary labors proper. She +was filled with joy to read that Miss Crofutt and her lieutenants +sometimes cracked and broke away the formidable husks which enveloped +divine kernels in the hearts of some of the wretches, and she frequently +wept at the stories of victories gained over monsters whose defences of +silence and stolidity had suddenly fallen into ruin above the slow but +persistent sapping of constant kindness. Acute tinglings and chilling +thrills would pervade her entire body when she read that on Christmas +every wretch seemed to become for that day, at least, a gracious man; +that the sight of a few penny tapers, or the possession of a handful of +sweet stuff, or a spray of holly, or a hot-house bloom, would appear to +convert the worst of them into children. Her heart would swell to learn +how they acted during the one poor hour of yearly freedom in the +prison-yards; that they swelled their chests; that they ran; that they +took long strides; that the singers anxiously tried their voices, now +grown husky; that the athletes wrestled only to find their limbs stiff +and their arts forgotten; that the gentlest of them lifted their faces +to the broad sky and spent the sixty minutes in a dreadful gazing at the +clouds.</p> + +<p>The pretty student gradually became possessed with a rage. She desired +to convert some one, to recover some estray, to reform some wretch.</p> + +<p>She regretted that she lived in America, and not in England, where the +most perfect rascals were to be found; she was sorry that the gloomy, +sin-saturated prisons which were the scenes of Miss Crofutt's labors +must always be beyond her ken.</p> + +<p>There was no crime in the family or the neighborhood against which she +might strive; no one whom she knew was even austere; she had never met a +brute; all her rascals were newspaper rascals. For aught she knew, this +tranquillity and good-will might go on forever, without affording her an +opportunity. She must be denied the smallest contact with these +frightful faces and figures, these bars and cages, these deformities of +the mind and heart, these curiosities of conscience, shyness, skill, and +daring; all these dramas of reclamation, all these scenes of fervent +gratitude, thankfulness, and intoxicating liberty—all or any of these +things must never come to be the lot of her eyes; and she gave herself +up to the most poignant regret.</p> + +<p>But one day she was astonished to discover that all of these delights +lay within half an hour's journey of her home; and moreover, that there +was approaching an hour which was annually set apart for the indulgence +of the inmates of the prison in question. She did not stop to ask +herself, as she might well have done, how it was that she had so +completely ignored this particular institution, which was one of the +largest and best conducted in the country, especially when her desire to +visit one was so keen; but she straightway set about preparing for her +intended visit in a manner which she fancied Miss Crofutt would have +approved, had she been present.</p> + +<p>She resolved, in the most radical sense of the word, to be alive. She +jotted on some ivory tablets, with a gold pencil, a number of hints to +assist her in her observations. For example: "Phrenological development; +size of cells; ounces of solid and liquid; tissue-producing food; were +mirrors allowed? if so, what was the effect? jimmy and skeleton-key, +character of; canary birds: query, would not their admission into every +cell animate in the human prisoners a similar buoyancy? to urge upon the +turnkeys the use of the Spanish garrote in place of the present +distressing gallows; to find the proportion of Orthodox and Unitarian +prisoners to those of other persuasions." But beside these and fifty +other similar memoranda, the enthusiast cast about her for something +practical to do.</p> + +<p>She hit upon the capital idea of flowers. She at once ordered from a +gardener of taste two hundred bouquets, or rather nosegays, which she +intended for distribution among the prisoners she was about to visit, +and she called upon her father for the money.</p> + +<p>Then she began to prepare her mind. She wished to define the plan from +which she was to make her contemplations. She settled that she would be +grave and gentle. She would be exquisitely careful not to hold herself +too much aloof, and yet not to step beyond the bounds of that sweet +reserve that she conceived must have been at once Miss Crofutt's sword +and buckler.</p> + +<p>Her object was to awaken in the most abandoned criminals a realization +that the world, in its most benignant phase, was still open to them; +that society, having obtained a requital for their wickedness, was ready +to embrace them again on proof of their repentance.</p> + +<p>She determined to select at the outset two or three of the most +remarkable monsters, and turn the full head of her persuasions +exclusively upon them, instead of sprinkling (as it were) the whole +community with her grace. She would arouse at first a very few, and then +a few more, and a few more, and so on <i>ad infinitum</i>.</p> + +<p>It was on a hot July morning that she journeyed on foot over the bridge +which led to the prison, and there walked a man behind her carrying the +flowers.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were cast down, this being the position most significant of her +spirit. Her pace was equal, firm, and rapid: she made herself oblivious +of the bustle of the streets, and she repented that her vanity had +permitted her to wear white and lavender these making a combination in +her dress which she had been told became her well. She had no right to +embellish herself. Was she going to the races or a match, or a +kettle-drum, that she must dandify herself with particular shades of +color? She stopped short, blushing. Would Miss Cro----. But there was no +help for it now. It was too late to turn back. She proceeded, feeling +that the odds were against her.</p> + +<p>She approached her destination in such a way that the prison came into +view suddenly. She paused, with a feeling of terror. The enormous gray +building rose far above a lofty white wall of stone, and a sense of its +prodigious strength and awful gloom overwhelmed her. On the top of the +wall, holding by an iron railing, there stood a man with a rifle +trailing behind him. He was looking down into the yard inside. His +attitude of watchfulness, his weapon, the unseen thing that was being +thus fiercely guarded, provoked in her such a revulsion that she came to +a standstill.</p> + +<p>What in the name of mercy had she come here for? She began to tremble. +The man with the flowers came up to her and halted. From the prison +there came at this instant the loud clang of a bell, and succeeding this +a prolonged and resonant murmur which seemed to increase. Miss Eunice +looked hastily around her. There were several people who must have heard +the same sounds that reached her ears, but they were not alarmed. In +fact, one or two of them seemed to be going to the prison direct. The +courage of our philanthropist began to revive. A woman in a brick house +opposite suddenly pulled up a window-curtain and fixed an amused and +inquisitive look upon her.</p> + +<p>This would have sent her into a thrice-heated furnace. "Come, if you +please," she commanded the man, and she marched upon the jail.</p> + +<p>She entered at first a series of neat offices in a wing of the +structure, and then she came to a small door made of black bars of iron. +A man stood on the farther side of this, with a bunch of large keys. +When he saw Miss Eunice he unlocked and opened the door, and she passed +through.</p> + +<p>She found that she had entered a vast, cool, and lofty cage, one hundred +feet in diameter; it had an iron floor, and there were several people +strolling about here and there. Through several grated apertures the +sunlight streamed with strong effect, and a soft breeze swept around the +cavernous apartment.</p> + +<p>Without the cage, before her and on either hand, were three more wings +of the building, and in these were the prisoners' corridors.</p> + +<p>At the moment she entered, the men were leaving their cells, and +mounting the stone stairs in regular order, on their way to the chapel +above. The noisy files went up and down and to the right and to the +left, shuffling and scraping and making a great tumult. The men were +dressed in blue, and were seen indistinctly through the lofty gratings. +From above and below and all around her there came the metallic snapping +of bolts and the rattle of moving bars; and so significant was +everything of savage repression and impending violence, that Miss Eunice +was compelled to say faintly to herself "I am afraid it will take a +little time to get used to all this."</p> + +<p>She rested upon one of the seats in the rotunda while the chapel +services were being conducted, and she thus had an opportunity to regain +a portion of her lost heart. She felt wonderfully dwarfed and belittled, +and her plan of recovering souls had, in some way or other, lost much of +its feasibility. A glance at her bright flowers revived her a little, as +did also a surprising, long-drawn roar from over her head, to the tune +of "America." The prisoners were singing.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice was not alone in her intended work, for there were several +other ladies, also with supplies of flowers, who with her awaited until +the prisoners should descend into the yard and be let loose before +presenting them with what they had brought. Their common purpose made +them acquainted, and by the aid of chat and sympathy they fortified each +other.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the five hundred men descended from the chapel to the +yard, rushing out upon its bare broad surface as you have seen a burst +of water suddenly irrigate a road-bed. A hoarse and tremendous shout at +once filled the air, and echoed against the walls like the threat of a +volcano. Some of the wretches waltzed and spun around like dervishes, +some threw somersaults, some folded their arms gravely and marched up +and down, some fraternized, some walked away pondering, some took off +their tall caps and sat down in the shade, some looked toward the +rotunda with expectation, and there were those who looked toward it with +contempt.</p> + +<p>There led from the rotunda to the yard a flight of steps. Miss Eunice +descended these steps with a quaking heart, and a turnkey shouted to the +prisoners over her head that she and others had flowers for them.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the words left his lips, than the men rushed up pell-mell.</p> + +<p>This was a crucial moment.</p> + +<p>There thronged upon Miss Eunice an army of men who were being punished +for all the crimes in the calendar. Each individual here had been caged +because he was either a highwayman, or a forger, or a burglar, or a +ruffian, or a thief, or a murderer. The unclean and frightful tide bore +down upon our terrified missionary, shrieking and whooping. Every +prisoner thrust out his hand over the head of the one in front of him, +and the foremost plucked at her dress.</p> + +<p>She had need of courage. A sense of danger and contamination impelled +her to fly, but a gleam of reason in the midst of her distraction +enabled her to stand her ground. She forced herself to smile though she +knew her face had grown pale.</p> + +<p>She placed a bunch of flowers into an immense hand which projected from +a coarse blue sleeve in front of her; the owner of the hand was pushed +away so quickly by those who came after him that Miss Eunice failed to +see his face. Her tortured ear caught a rough "Thank y', miss!" The +spirit of Miss Crofutt revived in a flash, and her disciple thereafter +possessed no lack of nerve.</p> + +<p>She plied the crowd with flowers as long as they lasted, and a jaunty +self possession enabled her finally to gaze without flinching at the +mass of depraved and wicked faces with which she was surrounded. Instead +of retaining her position upon the steps, she gradually descended into +the yard, as did several other visitors. She began to feel at home; she +found her tongue, and her color came back again. She felt a warm pride +in noticing with what care and respect the prisoners treated her gifts; +they carried them about with great tenderness, and some compared them +with those of their friends.</p> + +<p>Presently she began to recall her plans. It occurred to her to select +her two or three villains. For one, she immediately pitched upon a +lean-faced wretch in front of her. He seemed to be old, for his back was +bent and he leaned upon a cane. His features were large, and they bore +an expression of profound gloom. His head was sunk upon his breast, his +lofty conical cap was pulled over his ears, and his shapeless uniform +seemed to weigh him down, so infirm was he.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice spoke to him. He did not hear; she spoke again. He glanced +at her like a flash, but without moving; this was at once followed by a +scrutinizing look. He raised his head, and then he turned toward her +gravely.</p> + +<p>The solemnity of his demeanor nearly threw Miss Eunice off her balance, +but she mastered herself by beginning to talk rapidly. The prisoner +leaned over a little to hear better. Another came up, and two or three +turned around to look. She bethought herself of an incident related in +Miss Crofutt's book, and she essayed its recital. It concerned a lawyer +who was once pleading in a French criminal court in behalf of a man +whose crime had been committed under the influence of dire want. In his +plea he described the case of another whom he knew who had been punished +with a just but short imprisonment instead of a long one, which the +judge had been at liberty to impose, but from which he humanely +refrained. Miss Eunice happily remembered the words of the lawyer: "That +man suffered like the wrong-doer that he was. He knew his punishment was +just. Therefore there lived perpetually in his breast an impulse toward +a better life which was not suppressed and stifled by the five years he +passed within the walls of the jail. He came forth and began to labor. +He toiled hard. He struggled against averted faces and cold words, and +he began to rise. He secreted nothing, faltered at nothing, and never +stumbled. He succeeded; men took off their hats to him once more; he +became wealthy, honorable, God-fearing. I, gentlemen, am that man, that +criminal." As she quoted this last declaration Miss Eunice erected +herself with burning eyes and touched herself proudly upon the breast. A +flush crept into her cheeks, and her nostrils dilated, and she grew +tall.</p> + +<p>She came back to earth again, and found herself surrounded with the +prisoners. She was a little startled.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that was good!" ejaculated the old man upon whom she had fixed her +eyes. Miss Eunice felt an inexpressible sense of delight.</p> + +<p>Murmurs of approbation came from all of her listeners, especially from +one on her right hand. She looked around at him pleasantly.</p> + +<p>But the smile faded from her lips on beholding him. He was extremely +tall and very powerful. He overshadowed her. His face was large, ugly, +and forbidding; his gray hair and beard were cropped close, his eyebrows +met at the bridge of his nose and overhung his large eyes like a screen. +His lips were very wide, and, being turned downward at the corners, they +gave him a dolorous expression. His lower jaw was square and protruding, +and a pair of prodigious white ears projected from beneath his +sugar-loaf cap. He seemed to take his cue from the old man, for he +repeated his sentiment.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, with a voice which broke alternately into a roar and a +whisper, "that was a good story."</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," faltered Miss Eunice, "and it has the merit of being t-rue."</p> + +<p>He replied with a nod, and looked absently over her head while he rubbed +the nap upon his chin with his hand. Miss Eunice discovered that his +knee touched the skirt of her dress, and she was about to move in order +to destroy this contact, when she remembered that Miss Crofutt would +probably have cherished the accident as a promoter of a valuable +personal influence, so she allowed it to remain. The lean-faced man was +not to be mentioned in the same breath with this one, therefore she +adopted the superior villain out of hand.</p> + +<p>She began to approach him. She asked him where he lived, meaning to +discover whence he had come. He replied in the same mixture of roar and +whisper, "Six undered un one, North Wing."</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice grew scarlet. Presently she recovered sufficiently to pursue +some inquiries respecting the rules and customs of the prison. She did +not feel that she was interesting her friend, yet it seemed clear that +he did not wish to go away. His answers were curt, yet he swept his cap +off his head, implying by the act a certain reverence, which Miss +Eunice's vanity permitted her to exult at. Therefore she became more +loquacious than ever. Some men came up to speak with the prisoner, but +he shook them off, and remained in an attitude of strict attention, +with his chin on his hand, looking now at the sky, now at the ground and +now at Miss Eunice.</p> + +<p>In handling the flowers her gloves had been stained, and she now held +them in her fingers nervously twisting them as she talked. In the course +of time she grew short of subjects, and as her listener suggested +nothing, several lapses occurred; in one of them she absently spread her +gloves out in her palms, meanwhile wondering how the English girl acted +under similar circumstances.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a large hand slowly interposed itself between her eyes and her +gloves, and then withdrew, taking one of the soiled trifles with it.</p> + +<p>She was surprised, but the surprise was pleasurable. She said nothing at +first. The prisoner gravely spread his prize out upon his own palm, and +after looking at it carefully, he rolled it up into a tight ball and +thrust it deep in an inner pocket.</p> + +<p>This act made the philanthropist aware that she had made progress. She +rose insensibly to the elevation of patron, and she made promises to +come frequently and visit her ward and to look in upon him when he was +at work; while saying this she withdrew a little from the shade his huge +figure had supplied her with.</p> + +<p>He thrust his hands into his pockets, but he hastily took them out +again. Still he said nothing and hung his head. It was while she was in +the mood of a conqueror that Miss Eunice went away. She felt a touch of +repugnance at stepping from before his eyes a free woman, therefore she +took pains to go when she thought he was not looking.</p> + +<p>She pointed him out to a turnkey, who told her he was expiating the sins +of assault and burglarious entry. Outwardly Miss Eunice looked grieved, +but within she exulted that he was so emphatically a rascal.</p> + +<p>When she emerged from the cool, shadowy, and frowning prison into the +gay sunlight, she experienced a sense of bewilderment. The significance +of a lock and a bar seemed greater on quitting them than it had when she +had perceived them first. The drama of imprisonment and punishment +oppressed her spirit with tenfold gloom now that she gazed upon the +brilliancy and freedom of the outer world. That she and everybody around +her were permitted to walk here and there at will, without question and +limit, generated within her an indefinite feeling of gratitude; and the +noise, the colors, the creaking wagons, the myriad voices, the splendid +variety and change of all things excited a profound but at the same time +a mournful satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Midway in her return journey she was shrieked at from a carriage, which +at once approached the sidewalk. Within it were four gay maidens bound +to the Navy-Yard, from whence they were to sail, with a large party of +people of nice assortment, in an experimental steamer, which was to be +made to go with kerosene lamps, in some way. They seized upon her hands +and cajoled her. Wouldn't she go? They were to sail down among the +islands (provided the oil made the wheels and things go round), they +were to lunch at Fort Warren, dine at Fort Independence, and dance at +Fort Winthrop Come, please go. Oh, do! The Germanians were to furnish +the music.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice sighed, but shook her head. She had not yet got the air of +the prison out of her lungs, nor the figure of her robber out of her +eyes, nor the sense of horror and repulsion out of her sympathies.</p> + +<p>At another time she would have gone to the ends of the earth with such a +happy crew, but now she only shook her head again and was resolute. No +one could wring a reason from her, and the wondering quartet drove away.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +<br> +<p>II.</p> + + +<p>Before the day went, Miss Eunice awoke to the disagreeable fact that her +plans had become shrunken and contracted, that a certain something had +curdled her spontaneity, and that her ardor had flown out at some +crevice and had left her with the dry husk of an intent.</p> + +<p>She exerted herself to glow a little, but she failed. She talked well +at the tea-table, but she did not tell about the glove. This matter +plagued her. She ran over in her mind the various doings of Miss +Crofutt, and she could not conceal from herself that that lady had never +given a glove to one of her wretches; no, nor had she ever permitted the +smallest approach to familiarity.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice wept a little. She was on the eve of despairing.</p> + +<p>In the silence of the night the idea presented itself to her with a +disagreeable baldness. There was a thief over yonder that possessed a +confidence with her.</p> + +<p>They had found it necessary to shut this man up in iron and stone, and +to guard him with a rifle with a large leaden ball in it.</p> + +<p>This villain was a convict. That was a terrible word, one that made her +blood chill.</p> + +<p>She, the admired of hundreds and the beloved of a family, had done a +secret and shameful thing of which she dared not tell. In these solemn +hours the madness of her act appalled her.</p> + +<p>She asked herself what might not the fellow do with the glove? Surely he +would exhibit it among his brutal companions, and perhaps allow it to +pass to and fro among them. They would laugh and joke with him, and he +would laugh and joke in return, and no doubt he would kiss it to their +great delight. Again, he might go to her friends, and, by working upon +their fears and by threatening an exposure of her, extort large sums of +money from them. Again, might he not harass her by constantly appearing +to her at all times and all places and making all sorts of claims and +demands? Again, might he not, with terrible ingenuity, use it in +connection with some false key or some jack-in-the-box, or some +dark-lantern, or something, in order to effect his escape; or might he +not tell the story times without count to some wretched +curiosity-hunters who would advertise her folly all over the country, to +her perpetual misery?</p> + +<p>She became harnessed to this train of thought. She could not escape from +it. She reversed the relation that she had hoped to hold toward such a +man, and she stood in his shadow, and not he in hers.</p> + +<p>In consequence of these ever-present fears and sensations, there was one +day, not very far in the future, that she came to have an intolerable +dread of. This day was the one on which the sentence of the man was to +expire. She felt that he would surely search for her; and that he would +find her there could be no manner of doubt, for, in her surplus of +confidence, she had told him her full name, inasmuch as he had told her +his.</p> + +<p>When she contemplated this new source of terror, her peace of mind fled +directly. So did her plans for philanthropic labor. Not a shred +remained. The anxiety began to tell upon her, and she took to peering +out of a certain shaded window that commanded the square in front of +her house. It was not long before she remembered that for good behavior +certain days were deducted from the convicts' terms of imprisonment. +Therefore, her ruffian might be released at a moment not anticipated by +her. He might, in fact, be discharged on any day. He might be on his way +toward her even now.</p> + +<p>She was not very far from right, for suddenly the man did appear.</p> + +<p>He one day turned the corner, as she was looking out at the window +fearing that she should see him, and came in a diagonal direction across +the hot, flagged square.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice's pulse leaped into the hundreds. She glued her eyes upon +him. There was no mistake. There was the red face, the evil eyes, the +large mouth, the gray hair, and the massive frame.</p> + +<p>What should she do? Should she hide? Should she raise the sash and +shriek to the police? Should she arm herself with a knife? or—what? In +the name of mercy, what? She glared into the street. He came on +steadily, and she lost him, for he passed beneath her. In a moment she +heard the jangle of the bell. She was petrified. She heard his heavy +step below. He had gone into the little reception-room beside the door. +He crossed to a sofa opposite the mantel. She then heard him get up and +go to a window, then he walked about, and then sat down; probably upon a +red leather seat beside the window.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the servant was coming to announce him. From some impulse, +which was a strange and sudden one, she eluded the maid, and rushed +headlong upon her danger. She never remembered her descent of the +stairs. She awoke to cool contemplation of matters only to find herself +entering the room.</p> + +<p>Had she made a mistake, after all? It was a question that was asked and +answered in a flash. This man was pretty erect and self-assured, but she +discerned in an instant that there was needed but the blue woollen +jacket and the tall cap to make him the wretch of a month before.</p> + +<p>He said nothing. Neither did she. He stood up and occupied himself by +twisting a button upon his waistcoat. She, fearing a threat or a demand, +stood bridling to receive it. She looked at him from top to toe with +parted lips.</p> + +<p>He glanced at her. She stepped back. He put the rim of his cap in his +mouth and bit it once or twice, and then looked out at the window. Still +neither spoke. A voice at this instant seemed impossible.</p> + +<p>He glanced again like a flash. She shrank, and put her hands upon the +bolt. Presently he began to stir. He put out one foot, and gradually +moved forward. He made another step. He was going away. He had almost +reached the door, when Miss Eunice articulated, in a confused whisper, +"My—my glove; I wish you would give me my glove."</p> + +<p>He stopped, fixed his eyes upon her, and after passing his fingers up +and down upon the outside of his coat, said, with deliberation, in a +husky voice, "No, mum. I'm goin' fur to keep it as long as I live, if it +takes two thousand years."</p> + +<p>"Keep it!" she stammered.</p> + +<p>"Keep it," he replied.</p> + +<p>He gave her an untranslatable look. It neither frightened her nor +permitted her to demand the glove more emphatically. She felt her cheeks +and temples and her hands grow cold, and midway in the process of +fainting she saw him disappear. He vanished quietly. Deliberation and +respect characterized his movements, and there was not so much as a jar +of the outer door.</p> + +<p>Poor philanthropist!</p> + +<p>This incident nearly sent her to a sick-bed. She fully expected that her +secret would appear in the newspapers in full, and she lived in dread of +the onslaught of an angry and outraged society.</p> + +<p>The more she reflected upon what her possibilities had been and how she +had misused them, the iller and the more distressed she got. She grew +thin and spare of flesh. Her friends became frightened. They began to +dose her and to coddle her. She looked at them with eyes full of supreme +melancholy, and she frequently wept upon their shoulders.</p> + +<p>In spite of her precautions, however, a thunder-bolt slipped in.</p> + +<p>One day her father read at the table an item that met his eye. He +repeated it aloud, on account of the peculiar statement in the last +line:</p> + +<p>"Detained on suspicion.—A rough-looking fellow, who gave the name of +Gorman, was arrested on the high-road to Tuxbridge Springs for suspected +complicity in some recent robberies in the neighborhood. He was +fortunately able to give a pretty clear account of his late whereabouts +and he was permitted to depart with a caution from the justice. Nothing +was found upon him but a few coppers and an old kid glove wrapped in a +bit of paper."</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice's soup spilled. This was too much, and she fainted this time +in right good earnest; and she straightway became an invalid of the +settled type. They put her to bed. The doctor told her plainly that he +knew she had a secret, but she looked at him so imploringly that he +refrained from telling his fancies; but he ordered an immediate change +of air. It was settled at once that she should go to the "Springs"—to +Tuxbridge Springs. The doctor knew there were young people there, also +plenty of dancing. So she journeyed thither with her pa and her ma and +with pillows and servants.</p> + +<p>They were shown to their rooms, and strong porters followed with the +luggage. One of them had her huge trunk upon his shoulder. He put it +carefully upon the floor, and by so doing he disclosed the ex-prisoner +to Miss Eunice and Miss Eunice to himself. He was astonished, but he +remained silent. But she must needs be frightened and fall into another +fit of trembling. After an awkward moment he went away, while she called +to her father and begged piteously to be taken away from Tuxbridge +Springs instantly. There was no appeal. She hated, <i>hated</i>, HATED +Tuxbridge Springs, and she should die if she were forced to remain. She +rained tears. She would give no reason, but she could not stay. No, +millions on millions could not persuade her; go she must. There was no +alternative. The party quitted the place within the hour, bag and +baggage. Miss Eunice's father was perplexed and angry, and her mother +would have been angry also if she had dared.</p> + +<p>They went to other springs and stayed a month, but the patient's fright +increased each day, and so did her fever. She was full of distractions. +In her dreams everybody laughed at her as the one who had flirted with a +convict. She would ever be pursued with the tale of her foolishness and +stupidity. Should he ever recover her self-respect and confidence?</p> + +<p>She had become radically selfish. She forgot the old ideas of +noble-heartedness and self-denial, and her temper had become weak and +childish. She did not meet her puzzle face to face, but she ran away +from it with her hands over her ears. Miss Crofutt stared at her, and +therefore she threw Miss Crofutt's book into the fire.</p> + +<p>After two days of unceasing debate, she called her parents, and with +the greatest agitation told them <i>all</i>.</p> + +<p>It so happened, in this case, that events, to use a railroad phrase, +made connection.</p> + +<p>No sooner had Miss Eunice told her story than the man came again. This +time he was accompanied by a woman.</p> + +<p>"Only get my glove away from him," sobbed the unhappy one, "that is all +I ask!" This was a fine admission! It was thought proper to bring an +officer, and so a strong one was sent for.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the couple had been admitted to the parlor. Miss Eunice's +father stationed the officer at one door, while he, with a pistol, stood +at the other. Then Miss Eunice went into the apartment. She was wasted, +weak, and nervous. The two villains got up as she came in, and bowed. +She began to tremble as usual, and laid hold upon the mantelpiece. "How +much do you want?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>The man gave the woman a push with his forefinger. She stepped forward +quickly with her crest up. Her eyes turned, and she fixed a vixenish +look upon Miss Eunice. She suddenly shot her hand out from beneath her +shawl and extended it at full length. Across it lay Miss Eunice's glove, +very much soiled.</p> + +<p>"Was that thing ever yours?" demanded the woman, shrilly.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," said Miss Eunice, faintly.</p> + +<p>The woman seemed (if the apt word is to be excused) staggered. She +withdrew her hand, and looked the glove over. The man shook his head, +and began to laugh behind his hat.</p> + +<p>"And did you ever give it to him?" pursued the woman, pointing over her +shoulder with her thumb.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice nodded.</p> + +<p>"Of your own free will?"</p> + +<p>After a moment of silence she ejaculated, in a whisper, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Now wait," said the man, coming to the front; "'nough has been said by +you." He then addressed himself to Miss Eunice with the remains of his +laugh still illuminating his face.</p> + +<p>"This is my wife's sister, and she's one of the jealous kind. I love my +wife" (here he became grave), "and I never showed her any kind of slight +that I know of. I've always been fair to her, and she's always been fair +to me. Plain sailin' so far; I never kep' anything from her—but this." +He reached out and took the glove from the woman, and spread it out upon +his own palm, as Miss Eunice had seen him do once before. He looked at +it thoughtfully. "I wouldn't tell her about this; no, never. She was +never very particular to ask me; that's where her trust in me came in. +She knowed I was above doing anything out of the way—that is—I mean—" +He stammered and blushed, and then rushed on volubly. "But her sister +here thought I paid too much attention to it; she thought I looked at it +too much, and kep' it secret. So she nagged and nagged, and kept the +pitch boilin' until I had to let it out: I told 'em" (Miss Eunice +shivered). "'No,' says she, my wife's sister, 'that won't do, Gorman. +That's chaff, and I'm too old a bird.' Ther'fore I fetched her straight +to you, so she could put the question direct."</p> + +<p>He stopped a moment as if in doubt how to go on. Miss Eunice began to +open her eyes, and she released the mantel. The man resumed with +something like impressiveness:</p> + +<p>"When you last held that," said he, slowly, balancing the glove in his +hand, "I was a wicked man with bad intentions through and through. When +I first held it I became an honest man, with good intentions."</p> + +<p>A burning blush of shame covered Miss Eunice's face and neck.</p> + +<p>"An' as I kep' it my intentions went on improvin' and improvin', till I +made up my mind to behave myself in future, forever. Do you +understand?—forever. No backslidin', no hitchin', no slippin'-up. I +take occasion to say, miss, that I was beset time and again; that the +instant I set my foot outside them prison-gates, over there, my old +chums got round me; but I shook my head. 'No,' says I, 'I won't go back +on the glove.'"</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice hung her head. The two had exchanged places, she thought; +she was the criminal and he the judge.</p> + +<p>"An' what is more," continued he, with the same weight in his tone, "I +not only kep' sight of the glove, but I kep' sight of the generous +sperrit that gave it. I didn't let <i>that</i> go. I never forgot what you +meant. I knowed—I knowed," repeated he, lifting his forefinger—"I +knowed a time would come when there wouldn't be any enthoosiasm, any +'hurrah,' and then perhaps you'd be sorry you was so kind to me; an' the +time did come."</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice buried her face in her hands and wept aloud.</p> + +<p>"But did I quit the glove? No, mum. I held on to it. It was what I +fought by. I wasn't going to give it up, because it was asked for. All +the police-officers in the city couldn't have took it from me. I put it +deep into my pocket, and I walked out. It was differcult, miss. But I +come through. The glove did it. It helped me stand out against +temptation when it was strong. If I looked at it, I remembered that once +there was a pure heart that pitied me. It cheered me up. After a while I +kinder got out of the mud. Then I got work. The glove again. Then a girl +that knowed me before I took to bad ways married me, and no questions +asked. Then I just took the glove into a dark corner and blessed it."</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice was belittled.</p> + +<p>A noise was heard in the hallway. Miss Eunice's father and the policeman +were going away.</p> + +<p>The awkwardness of the succeeding silence was relieved by the moving of +the man and the woman They had done their errand, and were going.</p> + +<p>Said Miss Eunice, with the faint idea of making a practical apology to +her visitor, "I shall go to the prison once a week after this, I think."</p> + +<p>"Then may God bless ye, miss," said the man. He came back with tears in +his eyes and took her proffered hand for an instant. Then he and his +wife's sister went away.</p> + +<p>Miss Eunice's remaining spark of charity at once crackled and burst into +a flame. There is sure to be a little something that is bad in +everybody's philanthropy when it is first put to use; it requires to be +filed down like a faulty casting before it will run without danger to +anybody. Samaritanism that goes off with half a charge is sure to do +great mischief somewhere; but Miss Eunice's, now properly corrected, +henceforth shot off at the proper end, and inevitably hit the mark. She +purchased a new Crofutt.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="BROTHER_SEBASTIAN'S_FRIENDSHIP"></a><h2>BROTHER SEBASTIAN'S FRIENDSHIP.</h2> + +<h2>BY HAROLD FREDERIC.</h2> +<br> + +<p>I, who tell this story, am called Brother Sebastian. This name was given +me more than forty years ago, while Louis Philippe was still king. My +other name has been buried so long that I have nearly forgotten it. I +think that my people are dead. At least I have heard nothing from them +in many years. My reputation has always been that of a misanthrope—if +not that, then of a dreamer. In the seminary I had no intimates. In the +order, for I am a Brother of the Christian Schools, my associates are +polite—nothing more. I seem to be outside their social circles, their +plans, their enjoyments. True, I am an old man now. But in other years +it was the same. All my life I have been in solitude.</p> + +<p>To this there is a single exception—one star shining in the blackness. +And my career has been so bleak that, although it ended in deeper +sadness than I had known before, I look back to the episode with +gratitude. The bank of clouds which shut out this sole light of my life +quickened its brilliancy before they submerged it.</p> + +<p>After the terrible siege of '71, when the last German was gone, and our +houses had breasted the ordeal of the Commune, I was sent to the South. +The Superior thought my cheeks were ominously hollow, and suspected +threats of consumption in my cough. So I was to go to the Mediterranean, +and try its milder air. I liked the change. Paris, with its gloss of +noisy gayety and its substance of sceptical heartlessness, was repugnant +to me. Perhaps it was because of this that Brother Sebastian had been +mured up in the capital two thirds of his life. If our surroundings are +too congenial we neglect the work set before us. But no matter; to the +coast I went.</p> + +<p>My new home was a long-established house, spacious, venerable, and +dreary. It was on the outskirts of an ancient town, which was of far +more importance before our Lord was born than it has ever been since. We +had little to do. There were nine brothers, a handful of resident +orphans, and some three-score pupils. Ragged, stupid, big-eyed urchins +they were, altogether different from the keen Paris boys. For that +matter, every feature of my new home was odd. The heat of the summer was +scorching in its intensity. The peasants were much more respectful to +our cloth, and, as to appearance, looked like figures from Murillo's +canvases. The foliage, the wine, the language, the manners of the +people—everything was changed. This interested me, and my morbidness +vanished. The Director was delighted with my improved condition. Poor +man! he was positive that my cheeks had puffed out perceptibly after the +first two months. So the winter came—a mild, wet, muggy winter, wholly +unlike my favorite sharp season in the North.</p> + +<p>We were killing time in the library one afternoon, the Director and a +Swiss Brother sitting by the lamp reading, I standing at one of the +tall, narrow windows, drumming on the panes and dreaming. The view was +not an inspiring one. There was a long horizontal line of pale yellow +sky and another of flat, black land, out of which an occasional poplar +raised itself solemnly. The great mass below the stripes was brown; +above, gloomy gray. Close under the window two boys were playing in the +garden of the house. I recall distinctly that they threw armfuls of wet +fallen leaves at each other with a great shouting. While I stood thus, +the Brother Servitor, Abonus, came in and whispered to the Director. He +always whispered. It was not fraternal, but I did not like this Abonus.</p> + +<p>"Send him up here," said the Director. Then I remembered that I had +heard the roll of a carriage and the bell ring a few moments before. +Abonus came in again. Behind him there was some one else, whose +footsteps had the hesitating sound of a stranger's. Then I heard the +Director's voice:</p> + +<p>"You are from Algiers?"</p> + +<p>"I am, Brother."</p> + +<p>"Your name?"</p> + +<p>"Edouard, Brother."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me more."</p> + +<p>"I was under orders to be in Paris in January, Brother. As my health was +poor, I received permission to come back to France this autumn. At +Marseilles I was instructed to come here. So I am here. I have these +papers from the Mother house, and from Etienne, Director, of Algiers."</p> + +<p>Something in the voice seemed peculiar to me. I turned and examined the +new-comer. He stood behind and to one side of the Director, who was +laboriously deciphering some papers through his big horn spectacles. The +light was not very bright, but there was enough to see a wonderfully +handsome face, framed in dazzling black curls. Perhaps it looked the +more beautiful because contrasted with the shaven gray poll and surly +features of grim Abonus. But to me it was a dream of St. John the +Evangel. The eyes of the face were lowered upon the Director, so I could +only guess their brilliancy. The features were those of an extreme +youth—round, soft, and delicate. The expression was one of utter +fatigue, almost pain. It bore out the statement of ill-health.</p> + +<p>The Director had finished his reading. He lifted his head now and +surveyed the stranger in turn. Finally, stretching out his fat hand, he +said:</p> + +<p>"You are welcome, Brother Edouard. I see the letter says you have had no +experience except with the youngest children. Brother Photius does that +now. We will have you rest for a time. Then we will see about it. +Meanwhile I will turn you over to the care of good Abonus, who will give +you one of the north rooms."</p> + +<p>So the two went out, Abonus shuffling his feet disagreeably. It was +strange that he could do nothing to please me.</p> + +<p>"Brother Sebastian," said the Director, as the door closed, "it is +curious that they should have sent me a tenth man. Why, I lie awake now +to invent pretences of work for those I have already. I will give up all +show of teaching presently, and give out that I keep a hospital—a +retreat for ailing brothers. Still, this Edouard is a pretty boy."</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>"Etienne's letter says he is twenty and a Savoyard. He speaks like a +Parisian."</p> + +<p>"Very likely he is seminary bred," put in the Swiss.</p> + +<p>"Whatever he is, I like his looks," said our Superior. This good man +liked every one. His was the placid, easy Alsatian nature, prone to find +goodness in all things—even crabbed Abonus. The Director, or, as he was +known, Brother Elysee, was a stout, round little man, with a fine face +and imperturbable good spirits. He was adored by all his subordinates. +But I fancy he did not advance in favor at Paris very rapidly.</p> + +<p>I liked Edouard from the first. The day after he came we were together +much, and, when we parted after vespers, I was conscious of a vast +respect for this new-comer. He was bright, ready spoken, and almost a +man of the world. Compared with my dull career, his short life had been +one of positive gayety. He had seen Frederic le Maitre at the Comédie +Française. He had been at Court and spoken with the Prince Imperial. He +was on terms of intimacy with Monsignori, and had been a protégé of the +sainted Darboy. It was a rare pleasure to hear him talk of these things.</p> + +<p>Before this, the ceaseless shifting of brothers from one house to +another had been indifferent to me. For the hundreds of strangers who +came and went in the Paris house on Oudinot Street I cared absolutely +nothing, I did not suffer their entrance nor their exit to excite me. +This was so much the case that they called me a machine. But with +Edouard this was different. I grew to love the boy from the first +evening, when, as he left my room, I caught myself saying, "I shall be +sorry when he goes." He seemed to be fond of me, too. For that matter +most of the brothers petted him, Elysee especially. But I was flattered +that he chose me as his particular friend. For the first time my heart +had opened.</p> + +<p>We were alone one evening after the holidays. It was cold without, but +in my room it was warm and bright. The fire crackled merrily, and the +candles gave out a mellow and pleasant light. The Director had gone up +to Paris, and his mantle had fallen on me. Edouard sat with his feet +stretched to the fender, his curly head buried in the great curved back +of my invalid chair, the red fire-light reflected on his childish +features. I took pleasure in looking at him. He looked at the coals and +knit his brows as if in a puzzle. I often fancied that something +weightier than the usual troubles of life weighed upon him. At last he +spoke, just as I was about to question him:</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid to die, Sebastian?"</p> + +<p>Not knowing what else to say, I answered, "No, my child."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you enjoy life in community?"</p> + +<p>This was still stranger. I could but reply that I had never known any +other life; that I was fitted for nothing else.</p> + +<p>"But still," persisted he, "would you not like to leave it—to have a +career of your own before you die? Do you think this is what a man is +created for—to give away his chance to live?"</p> + +<p>"Edouard, you are interrogating your own conscience," I answered. "These +are questions which you must have answered yourself, before you took +your vows. When you answered them, you sealed them."</p> + +<p>Perhaps I spoke too harshly, for he colored and drew up his feet. Such +shapely little feet they were. I felt ashamed of my crustiness.</p> + +<p>"But, Edouard," I added, "your vows are those of the novitiate. You are +not yet twenty-eight. You have still the right to ask yourself these +things. The world is very fair to men of your age. Do not dream that I +was angry with you."</p> + +<p>He sat gazing into the fire. His face wore a strange, far-away +expression, as he reached forth his hand, in a groping way, and rested +it on my knee, clutching the gown nervously. Then he spoke slowly, +seeking for words, and keeping his eye on the flames:</p> + +<p>"You have been good to me, Brother Sebastian. Let me ask you: May I tell +you something in confidence—something which shall never pass your lips? +I mean it."</p> + +<p>He had turned and poured those marvellous eyes into mine with +irresistible magnetism. Of course I said, "Speak!" and I said it without +the slightest hesitation.</p> + +<p>"I am not a Christian Brother. I do not belong to your order. I have no +claim upon the hospitality of this roof. I am an impostor!"</p> + +<p>He ejected these astounding sentences with an energy almost fierce, +gripping my knee meanwhile. Then, as suddenly, his grasp relaxed, and he +fell to weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p>I stared at him solemnly, in silence. My tongue seemed paralyzed. +Confusing thoughts whirled in a maze unbidden through my head. I could +say nothing. But a strange impulse prompted me to reach out and take his +hot hand in mine. It was piteous to hear him sobbing, his head upon his +raised arm, his whole frame quivering with emotion. I had never seen any +one weep like that before. So I sat dumb, trying in vain to answer this +bewildering self-accusation. At last there came out of the folds of the +chair the words, faint and tear-choked:</p> + +<p>"You have promised me secrecy, and you will keep your word; but you will +hate me."</p> + +<p>"Why no, no, Edouard, not hate you," I answered, scarcely knowing what I +said. I did not comprehend it at all. There was nothing more for me to +say. Finally, when some power of thought returned, I asked:</p> + +<p>"Of all things, my poor boy, why should you choose such a dreary life as +this? What possible reason led you to enter the community? What +attractions has it for you?"</p> + +<p>Edouard turned again from the fire to me. His eyes sparkled. His teeth +were tight set.</p> + +<p>"Why? Why? I will tell you why, Brother Sebastian. Can you not +understand how a poor hunted beast should rejoice to find shelter in +such an out-of-the-way place, among such kind men, in the grave of this +cloister life? I have not told you half enough. Do you not know in the +outside world, in Toulon, or Marseilles, or that fine Paris of yours, +there is a price on my head?—or no, not that, but enemies that are +looking for me, searching everywhere, turning every little stone for the +poor privilege of making me suffer? And do you know that these enemies +wear shakos, and are called gens d'armes? Would you be pleased to learn +that it is a prison I escape by coming here? <i>Now</i>, will you hate me?"</p> + +<p>The boy had risen from his chair. He spoke hurriedly, almost +hysterically, his eyes snapping at mine like coals, his curls +dishevelled, his fingers curved and stiffened like the talons of a hawk. +I had never seen such intense earnestness in a human face. Passions like +these had never penetrated the convent walls before.</p> + +<p>While I sat dumb before them, Edouard left the room. I was conscious of +his exit only in a vague way. For hours I sat in my chair beside the +grate thinking, or trying to think. You can see readily that I was more +than a little perplexed. In the absence of Elysee, I was director. The +management of the house, its good fame, its discipline, all rested on my +shoulders. And to be confronted by such an abyss as this! I could do +absolutely nothing. The boy had tied my tongue by the pledge. Besides, +had I been unsworn, I am sure the idea of exposure would never have come +to me. It was late before I retired that night. And I recall with +terrible distinctness the chaos of brain and faculty which ushered in a +restless sleep almost as dawn was breaking.</p> + +<p>I had fancied that Brother Edouard would find life intolerable in +community after his revelation to me. He would be chary of meeting me +before the brothers; would be constantly tortured by fear of detection. +As I saw this prospect of the poor innocent—for it was absurd to think +of him as anything else—dreading exposure at each step in his false +life, shrinking from observation, biting his tongue at every word—I was +greatly moved by pity. Judge my surprise, then, when I saw him the next +morning join in the younger brothers' regular walk around the garden, +joking and laughing as I had never seen before. On his right was thin, +sickly Victor, rest his soul! and on the other pursy, thick-necked John, +as merry a soul as Cork ever turned out. And how they laughed, even the +frail consumptive! It was a pleasure to see his blue eyes brighten with +enjoyment and his warm cheeks blush. Above John's queer, Irish chuckle, +I heard Edouard's voice, with its dainty Parisian accent, retailing +jokes and leading in the laughter. The tramp was stretched out longer +than usual, so pleasant did they find it. At this development I was much +amazed.</p> + +<p>The same change was noticeable in all that Edouard did. Instead of the +apathy with which he had discharged his nominal duties, his baby pupils +(for Photius had gone to Peru) now became bewitched with him. He told +them droll stories, incited their rivalry in study by instituting prizes +for which they struggled monthly, and, in short, metamorphosed his +department. The change spread to himself. His cheeks took on a ruddier +hue, the sparkle of his black eyes mellowed into a calm and steady +radiance. There was no trace of feverish elation which, in solitude, +recoiled to the brink of despair. He sang to himself evenings in his +dormitory, clearly and with joy. His step was as elastic as that of any +school-boy. I often thought upon this change, and meditated how +beautiful an illustration of confession's blessings it furnished. +Frequently we were alone, but he never referred again to that memorable +evening, even by implication. At first I dreaded to have the door close +upon us, feeling that he must perforce seek to take up the thread where +he had broken it then. But he talked of other things, and so easily and +naturally that I felt embarrassed. For weeks I could not shake off the +feeling that, at our next talk, he would broach the subject. But he +never did.</p> + +<p>Elysee returned, bringing me kind words from the Mother house, and a +half-jocular hint that Superior General Philippe had me much in his +mind. No doubt there had been a time when the idea of becoming a +Director would have stirred my pulses. Surely it was gone now. I asked +for nothing but to stay beside Edouard, to watch him, and to be near to +lend him a helping hand when his hour of trouble should come. From that +ordeal, which I saw approaching clearly and certainly, I shrank with all +my nerves on edge. As the object of my misery grew bright-eyed and +strong, I felt myself declining in health. My face grew thin, and I +could not eat. I saw before my eyes always this wretched boy singing +upon the brow of the abyss. Sometimes I strove not to see his +fall—frightful and swift. His secret seemed to harass him no longer. +To me it was heavier than lead.</p> + +<p>The evening the Brother Director returned, we sat together in the +reading-room, the entire community. Elysee had been speaking of the +Mother-house, concerning which Brother Barnabas, an odd little Lorrainer +who spoke better German than French, and who regarded Paris with the +true provincial awe and veneration, exhibited much curiosity. We had a +visitor, a gaunt, self-sufficient old Parisian, who had spent fourteen +days in the Mazas prison during the Commune. I will call him Brother +Albert, for his true name in religion is very well known.</p> + +<p>"I heard a curious story in the Vaugirard house," said the Brother +Director, refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff, "which made the more +impression upon me that I once knew intimately one of the persons in it. +Martin Delette was my schoolmate at Pfalsbourg, in the old days. A fine, +studious lad he was, too. He took orders and went to the north where he +lived for many years a quiet country curé. He had a niece, a charming +girl, who is not now more than twenty or one-and twenty. She was an +orphan, and lived with him, going to a convent to school and returning +at vacations. She was not a bad girl, but a trifle wayward and easily +led. She gave the Sisters much anxiety. Last spring she barely escaped +compromising the house by an escapade with a young <i>miserable</i> of the +town named Banin."</p> + +<p>"I know your story," said Albert, with an air which hinted that this +was a sufficient reason why the rest should not hear it. "Banin is in +prison."</p> + +<p>Elysee proceeded: "The girl was reprimanded. Next week she disappeared. +To one of her companions she had confided a great desire to see Paris. +So good Father Delette was summoned, and, after a talk with the +Superioress, started post-haste for the capital. He found no signs +either of poor Renée or of Banin, who had also disappeared. The Curé was +nearly heart-broken. Each day, they told me, added a year to his +appearance. He did not cease to importune the police chiefs and to haunt +the public places for a glimpse of his niece's face. But the summer +came, and no Renée. The Curé began to cough and grow weak. But one day +in August the Director, good Prosper, called him down to the +reception-room to see a visitor.</p> + +<p>"'There is news for you,'" he whispered, pressing poor Martin's hand. +"In the room he found—"</p> + +<p>"In the room he found—" broke in Albert, impertinently, but with a +quiet tone of authority which cowed good Elysee, "a shabby man, looking +like a poorly-fed waiter. This person rose and said, 'I am a detective; +do you know Banin—young man, tall, blonde, squints, broken tooth upper +jaw, hat back on his head, much talk, hails from Rheims?'</p> + +<p>"'Ah,' said Delette, 'I have not seen him, but I know him too well.'</p> + +<p>"The detective pointed with his thumb over his left shoulder. 'He is in +jail. He is good for twenty years. I did it myself. My name is +so-and-so. Good job. Procurator said you were interested—some woman in +the case, parishioner of yours, eh?'</p> + +<p>"'My niece,' gasped the Curé.</p> + +<p>"'O ho! does you credit; pretty girl, curly-head, good manners. Well, +she's off. Good trick, too. She was the decoy. Banin stood in the shadow +with club. She brought gentleman into alley, friend did work. That's +Banin's story. Perhaps a lie. You have a brother in Algiers? Thought so. +Girl went out there once? So I was told. Probably there now. African +officers say not; but they're a sleepy lot. If I was a criminal, I'd go +to Algiers. Good biding.' The detective went. Delette stood where he was +in silence. I went to him, and helped carry him up-stairs. We put him in +his bed. He died there."</p> + +<p>Brother Albert stopped. He had told the story, dialogue and all, like a +machine. We did not doubt its correctness. The memory of Albert had +passed into a proverb years before.</p> + +<p>Brother Albert raised his eyes again, and added, as if he had not +paused, "He was ashamed to hold his head up. He might well be."</p> + +<p>A strange, excited voice rose from the other end of the room. I looked +and saw that it was Edouard who spoke. He had half arisen from his chair +and scowled at Albert, throwing out his words with the tremulous haste +of a young man first addressing an audience:</p> + +<p>"Why should he be ashamed? Was he not a good man? Was the blame of his +bad niece's acts his? From the story, she was well used and had no +excuse. It is he who is to be pitied, not blamed!"</p> + +<p>The Brother Director smiled benignly at the young enthusiast. "Brother +Edouard is right," he said. "Poor Martin was to be compassioned. None +the less, my heart is touched for the girl. In Banin's trial it appeared +that he maltreated her, and forced her to do what she did by blows. They +were really married. Her neighbors gave Renée a name for gentleness and +a good heart. Poor thing!"</p> + +<p>"And she never was found?" asked Abonus, eagerly. He spoke very rarely. +He looked now at me as he spoke, and there was a strange, ungodly +glitter in his eyes which made me shudder involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"Never," replied the Director, "although there is a reward, 5000 francs, +offered for her recovery. Miserable child, who can tell what depths of +suffering she may be in this moment?"</p> + +<p>"It would be remarkable if she should be found now, after all this +time," said Abonus, sharply. His wicked, squinting old eyes were still +fastened upon me. This time, as by a flash of eternal knowledge, I read +their meaning, and felt the ground slipping from under me.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the night that followed. I made no pretence of +going to bed. Edouard's little dormitory was in another part of the +house. I went once to see him, but dared not knock, since Abonus was +stirring about just across the hall, in his own den. I scratched on a +piece of paper "Fly!" in the dark, and pushed it under the door. Then I +returned to walk my chamber, chafing like a wild beast. Ah, that night, +that night!</p> + +<p>With the first cock crow in the village below, long before the bell, I +left my room. I wanted air to breathe. I passed Abonus on the broad +stairway. He strode up with unwonted vigor, bearing a heavy cauldron of +water as if it had been straw. His gown was tumbled and dusty; his +greasy <i>rabat</i> hung awry about his neck. I had it in my head to speak +with him, but could not. So the early hours, with devotions which I went +through in a dream, wore on in horrible suspense, and breakfast came.</p> + +<p>We sat at the long table, five on a side, the Director—looking red-eyed +and weary from the evening's unaccustomed dissipation—sitting at the +head. Below us stood Brother Albert, reading from Tertullian in a dry, +monotonous chant. I recall, as I write, how I found a certain comfort in +those splendid, sonorous Latin sentences, though I was conscious of not +comprehending a word. I dreaded the moment they should end. Edouard sat +beside me. We had not exchanged a word during the morning. How could I +speak? What should I say? I was in a nervous flutter, like unto those +who watch the final pinioning of a criminal whose guillotine is awaiting +him. I could not keep my eyes from the fair face beside me, with its +delicately-cut profile, made all the more cameo-like by its pallid +whiteness. The lips were tightly compressed. I could see askant that the +tiny nostrils were quivering with excitement. All else was impassive on +Edouard's face. We two sat waiting for the axe to fall.</p> + +<p>It is as distinct as a nightmare to me. Abonus came in with his great +server laden with victuals. He stumbled as he approached. He too was +excited. He drew near, and stood behind me. I seemed to feel his breath +penetrate my skull; and yet I was forced to answer a whispered question +of Brother John's with a smooth face. I saw Edouard suddenly reach for +the milk glass in front of his plate, and hand it back to Abonus with +the disdain of a duchess. He said, in a sharp, peremptory tone:</p> + +<p>"Take it away and cleanse it. No one but a dirty monk would place such a +glass on the table."</p> + +<p>Albert ceased his reading. Abonus did not touch the glass. He shuffled +hastily to the side-board and deposited his burden. Then he came back +with the same eager movement. He placed his fists on his hips, like a +fish-woman, and hissed, in a voice choking with concentrated rage—</p> + +<p>"No one but a woman would complain of it!"</p> + +<p>The brothers stared at each other and the two speakers in mute surprise. +But they saw nothing in the words beyond a personal wrangle—though even +that was such a novelty as to arrest instant attention. I busied myself +with my plate. The Director assumed his harshest tone, and asked the +cause of the altercation. Abonus leaned over and whispered something in +his ear. I remember next a room full of confusion, a babel of +conflicting voices, and a whirling glimpse of uniforms. Then I fainted.</p> + +<p>When I revived I was in my own room, stretched upon my pallet. I looked +around in a dazed way and saw the Brother Director and a young gendarme +by the closed door. Something black and irregular in the outline of the +bed at my side attracted my eyes. I saw that it was Edouard's head +buried in the drapery. As in a dream I laid my numb hand upon those +crisp curls. I was an old man, she a weak, wretched girl. She raised her +face at my touch, and burned in my brain a vision of stricken agony, of +horrible soul-pain, which we liken, for want of a better simile, to the +anguish in the eyes of a dying doe. Her lips moved; she said something, +I know not what. Then she went, and I was left alone with Elysee. His +words—broken, stumbling words—I remember:</p> + +<p>"She asked to see you, Sebastian, my friend. I could not refuse. Her +papers were forged. She did come from Algiers, where her uncle is a +Capuchin. I do not ask, I do not wish to know, how much you know of +this. Before my Redeemer, I feel nothing but pity for the poor lamb. Lie +still, my friend; try to sleep. We are both older men than we were +yesterday."</p> + +<p>There is little else to tell. Only twice have reflections of this +episode in my old life reached me in the seclusion of a missionary post +at the foot of the Andes. I learned a few weeks ago that the wretched +Abonus had bought a sailor's café on the Toulon wharves with his five +thousand francs. And I know also that the heart of the Marshal-President +was touched by the sad story of Renée, and that she left the prison La +Salpetriere to lay herself in penitence at the foot of Mother Church. +This is the story of my friendship. </p> + +<b>THE END</b> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11452 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |