diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/61005-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/61005-0.txt | 7654 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7654 deletions
diff --git a/old/61005-0.txt b/old/61005-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0261d7f..0000000 --- a/old/61005-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7654 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Floating Fancies among the Weird and the -Occult, by Clara H. Holmes - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Floating Fancies among the Weird and the Occult - -Author: Clara H. Holmes - -Release Date: December 23, 2019 [EBook #61005] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOATING FANCIES AMONG WEIRD, OCCULT *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - FLOATING FANCIES - AMONG THE - WEIRD AND THE OCCULT. - - - BY - - CLARA H. HOLMES. - -[Illustration] - - F. TENNYSON NEELY, - - PUBLISHER, - - LONDON. NEW YORK. - - - - - Copyright, 1898, - - by - - CLARA H. HOLMES. - - - - - TO MY FRIEND, - - WILLIAM MONTGOMERY. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - NORDHUNG NORDJANSEN 7 - - IN THE BEYOND 29 - - THE TRAGEDY OF THE GNOMES 51 - - AN UNFAIR EXCHANGE 67 - - LIMITATIONS 99 - - A TALE OF TWO PICTURES 119 - - A NINETEENTH CENTURY GHOST 152 - - WHAT BECAME OF THE MONEY? 169 - - HIS FRIEND 196 - - A TALE OF THE X RAY 214 - - AN AVERTED TRAGEDY 231 - - - - - FLOATING FANCIES. - - - - - NORDHUNG NORDJANSEN. - - -Very many years ago, in an age when departures from the regular line of -thought were accounted but vagaries of a diseased brain, when science -was a thing of dread, and great knowledge deemed but sorcery, Nordhung -Nordjansen was born, and grew to early manhood on the far northern coast -of Norway. - -Through all his boyhood days—whenever he could steal away from his -father and his father’s plodding work—he would climb the bold crags -which overlooked the Northern Sea, and gaze with hungry eyes over the -vast expanse of water. - -“If I could but know what lies beyond that cold horizon,” he would sigh. - -He expressed this longing to his father. - -“Get your mother a bundle of fagots, and pry not into the unknown,” -answered his father, so sternly that Nordhung dared not mention it -again, and being an obedient boy he went into the forest; but with every -stick he gathered, he also gathered a doubt of his father’s wisdom. - -“How can it be wrong to wish to know what lies in that beautiful -beyond?” - -He gathered another stick or two, and idly twirling them in his hand, he -murmured, “My father says it is a sin to pry into that which is hidden; -perhaps it is not hidden, but just lies there waiting to be admired, as -did our beautiful Norway, long, long ago.” - -He piled the sticks in a little heap, and sat beside them, idly throwing -pebbles at a little bird which sat on a branch, and mocked his -restlessness with happy song. - -“I wish that I could know what lies beyond my sight. The sky has stooped -down to meet the waves, and they are so glad that they leap and dimple -in the sunlight. Oh, it must be very beautiful in that far country! Why -must the longing for all things beautiful be a sin? It is no sin to -work, to pick up fagots to make the pot boil, but I do not like to do -this! My father says it is a sin to sit on the crags, and look across -the sea, and wish and wish that I were a bird, so that I could fly; but -I love to do that. I wonder why the sinful cannot be ugly, and those -things which are right be beautiful and nice to do!” - -Thus the battle went on in this mind, thirsty for knowledge; a battle as -old as man himself, with his ignorance, and the prejudice of false -teaching. - -One day Nordhung climbed the boldest of the crags overlooking Tana -Fiord, and gazed long and wistfully over the many islands which lay -along the coast. - -A stately ship sailed out of Sylte Fiord, and made its way around the -headland to the open sea. With fascinated gaze he watched it spread its -white wings; the waves lapped and beat about its prow, it kept on its -majestic way as though scorning their childish gambols. His heart -swelled with eager desire; if he could but own that wonderful ship and -sail away into the unknown! If he could but reach the home of the -beautiful Aurora Borealis and search out its mysteries! - -There sprang into life in that hour the firm resolve that some day he -would know—that some day _he_ would stand on the deck of a beautiful -ship of his own, and proudly sail away into the pale glory of those -northern skies, and discover the wonderful things lying beyond those -opaline tints. Then the mist creeping up from the sea began to envelop -him, and he cried aloud, thinking it a spirit sent to punish him for the -sinfulness of his desires, and he ran home as fast as his legs could -carry him. - - * * * * * - -Fifteen years later Neiharden Nordjansen, father of Nordhung Nordjansen, -died and was buried in the little churchyard; he was born, he breathed, -he ate, he slept, he died and was buried with his ancestors; what more -could man desire? Before the tears were dried upon his cheeks Nordhung -remembered that he was free, and his heart throbbed with impatience. -Three years more passed by; he stood upon the deck of an outgoing ship, -his shoulders thrown back, his head erect; proudly conscious that he was -commander. He bawled arrogantly to the sailors; he cast his eyes over -the great spread of canvas, set to catch ever little flurry of wind, and -lifted his chin a trifle higher. - -“Commander Nordjansen!” he murmured delightedly. - -Away to the north-northeast he sailed. Threading his way carefully past -the many rocky islands, he entered the frozen sea; ever in danger, -trembling at the near approach of icebergs, or crouching awe-stricken in -the shadow of their immensity, yet never did Nordhung forget that he was -“Commander Nordjansen.” - -After long, weary months of sailing, when provisions ran low, when cold -and hunger had pinched the sailors sorely, they openly grumbled at -Nordjansen’s rule; they wearied for home, for wives and sweethearts. - -“Why seek further?” cried one; “we are already too far from home!” - -“What do we seek?” said another bitterly. - -“A fool’s desire! The commander’s Jack-o-lantern!” answered a third -derisively. - -But though they grumbled and cast many black looks, the tones were low -and they were careful that they spoke behind his back. - -Nordjansen paced his deck with fierce impatience; he strained his eyes -for indication of that which he sought—the North Pole. The beautiful -Aurora Borealis lighted his way with streaming flames of red, that -quivered into golden glory, or faded into palest silver—only to flame, -and shoot, and dart across the heavens again like fantastic, serpent -tongues; he approached the beautiful wonder—it seemed to him not one jot -nearer than in the beginning of his journey. His heart lay heavy within -him. - -He surprised the fierce, scowling glances of his sailors, as by twos and -threes they grumbled together. He sternly ordered them about their -business; they grumbled still more as they obeyed. - -His heart sank with dread; the chill wind blew through the frozen -cordage, and whistling shrilly, mocked the lure of his lifetime. Was all -his effort to end in failure; were all his hopes and lofty ambitions to -yield no fruition? Was he never—never to fathom the secret of the -Unknown and the Wonderful? - -For hours he paced the deck; true, at his command the sailors had slunk -away, but with scowls of bitter hate; each heart filled with wrath and -grievous longing. Habit of obedience is strong, and Nordjansen was -commander, as he was careful that they should remember. - -In his pacing to and fro he passed the compass; he paused in -astonishment, the needle was vibrating strangely, and he became -conscious that the vessel was no longer going steadily on her -course—although the water appeared smooth—but was pitching in short, -sudden lurches; now slightly to the right, then to the left; -quivering—quivering—like some frightened living thing. - -Strange thrills ran through his body; a terrible fear shook him. - -The flames of the Aurora seemed to hang directly over the ship, and to -be of a fiery hue, anon changing to all the prismatic colors of the -rainbow, so brilliant as to frighten him; a thousand fiery tongues -seemed to lick at the reeling ship, as though to devour her, and all -contained therein. He covered his eyes with his shaking hands to shade -his tortured eyeballs from their satanic gambolings. - -One by one the terrified sailors crept on deck and huddled together, -talking in awed whispers, or crouched around the mast in abject fear. At -last three, more bold—or more desperate—than the others, walked up to -Nordjansen; one, a grizzled old fellow, pulled his tangled forelock -awkwardly. - -“What do you wish?” asked Nordjansen sternly. - -“If you please, sir, me and my mates wants to know if so be as you’ll -turn back. We’ve naught to eat, and it’s sore goin’ without feed, when -it’s growin’ cold—c-o-l-d-e-r e-v-e-r-y m-i-n-u-t-e,” his teeth -chattering so that he could scarcely speak. - -“Go below! You cowards!” shouted Nordjansen fiercely. “Cold! You are -frightened! No wonder your teeth chatter like the boughs of the trees in -the winter wind!” he shrieked, hoarse with rage. They crept away, more -affrighted of his wrath than of the cold or the fiery phenomenon over -their heads. - -Nordjansen drew himself up proudly: - -“Let them not presume to dictate to me; _I_ am the commander! But it -_is_ c-o-l-d; y-e-s, c-o-l-d;” his lips trembled, and _his_ teeth -chattered so that his speech halted. - -The strange thrills increased in force, and shot through him in more -rapid succession. - -A wind had arisen, which each moment increased in velocity. Of a sudden -the ship lurched wildly, then spun half around, and with an awful thud -the iron sheathing of her bow adhered to the North Pole, as the cambric -needle is attached to the magnet with which children play. One glimpse -of icebergs so awful, so terrible in their magnitude; higher than the -highest peaks of the Himalayas, numerous beyond computing; each one a -perfect prism, lighted into a blinding radiance of color by the midnight -sun. Nordjansen knew that he had found the home of the Aurora Borealis. -He had scant time to notice these wonders; all that he saw in that -fleeting glance made a horrible impression upon his awe-struck mind, yet -no one thought was distinct or clearly defined—one awful throe of fear -possessed him. - -The wind had increased to a shrieking gale, and although the force of -magnetism held the vessel sealed to the pole, it quivered, groaned, and -strained for release like a living thing. - -Nordjansen’s knees trembled; he turned his terror-stricken gaze away -from the awful illumination—the dizzy commingling of rays of every -hue—from the vast, unnumbered prisms of ice; his eyeballs ached with the -glare; which, though so brilliant, was permeated with a chill more -terrible than the rigor of death. - -As in affright he turned his eyes away it was but to encounter another -horror; before him lay a cavernous entrance, glooming downward and -forward, into the very bowels of the earth; he loosed his hold upon the -mast—to which he had been clinging for support—to wipe the cold drops of -perspiration from his brow, brought there by terror. He wished his -sailors were on deck that he might hear the sound of a human voice. He -wished—he wished that he had been less harsh. When all is well we are -filled with self-sufficiency, but when adversity comes upon us we crave -human sympathy as much as does the little child who holds up a hurt hand -for mother’s healing kiss. - -He had no sooner loosed his hold upon the mast than the strong wind -lifted him bodily, and carried him—feet foremost—into the terrors of the -abyss which swallowed him up in darkness. He had no time for thought as -he was borne rapidly forward; swept along as a feather is borne on the -autumn gale; he lay on his back, as the swimmer floats on the water, his -arms pressed closely to his sides, his feet held stiffly together. The -strange incongruous thought occurred to him: “This is the position in -which I shall be placed when I am dead; my feet will lie thus, side by -side; my hands should be crossed upon my breast—” he tried to raise his -hands and so place them, but found that he had no power to stir them. “I -wonder if I am dead! Is this the dread change?” He laughed whimsically, -for at this instant the strong wind, sweeping his hair backward, made -his head itch; that was no _post-mortem_ sensation. - -A strange rumbling noise greeted his ears; the clank of ponderous -machines, the whirr of enormous belts, as the earth turned on her axis. -The wind, which had been bitterly cold, grew gradually warmer; a -strange, dreamy lassitude stole over him, a wavy, half-light helped to -soothe his senses. - -On—on, he floated; how long he knew not; days—weeks—he had no idea as to -time. A desperate hunger assailed him; he fancied that trees loaded with -luscious fruits mocked him as he was swept by; odors strange but -delightful seemed to fill his whole being with longing; his mouth -dripped with moisture. Oh, how dreadful the onward sweeping! Would it -never end? - -All sound had died away—I should say—had been left behind; no more -creaking and groaning of the horribly ponderous machinery; but a silence -still more horrible reigned. We have little realization of what perfect -silence would be. Our world is one vast hubbub. Who ever knew the day or -night, the time or place, that we did not hear the rush of the wind -among the treetops; the calls of birds; the lowing of cattle; the bark -of a dog, or the blow of an ax; perhaps the crack of a whip? Noise, -noise everywhere, and at all times. Were perfect silence to reign for -one hour, the tones of the human voice would strike upon the ear with -the force of a blow. - -Nordhung must have swooned; how long he remained in this unconscious -state he had no means of knowing; indeed, he felt that here time was -not. As his faculties once more became active, he noticed, first, that -he was being carried forward much more slowly; secondly, that instead of -going straight ahead, he was describing an immense circle, with an -occasional sharp turn. He also observed that the wavering light had -increased to a steady white glow, a brilliancy almost blinding to his -unaccustomed eyes; faint sounds came to him from time to time, not like -the ponderous noises which had affrighted him, but human -sounds—laughter—a child’s cry—but with something strange in the tone. -His heart swelled rapturously! Was he nearing the earth’s surface again? -Oh, that he might once more sit on the crags of Norway, and look upon -his beautiful land! - -We are prone to consider that most beautiful which we looked upon while -the heart was young; then, all the world was fair, and we loved much. - -When disappointments have come to us, and hope has grown jaded, we look -back, even upon a rocky desolation, and say in all sincerity, “How -beautiful it was,” not knowing that it was but our hearts’ hopes that -were beautiful. Alas, _that were_! - -Nordhung sadly thought: “My father was right, and I am well punished for -prying into the unknown.” - -Sounds became more distinctly audible; the wind had fallen to a gentle -breeze, and he felt himself settling, settling as you have seen a -balloon descend as the gas gradually escaped. - -Gently he floated into the midst of an excited group, who scattered with -cries of fear and wonder. Strange sounds issued from these strange -beings; tones of dismay, and astonishment, in which no one voice -differed from another; a thin sound, lacking timbre; as the wind blows -with the angry force of the storm, or gently sighs of a placid summer -day—so these voices were in anger high and shrill, in joy softly -reaching the consciousness. Their bodies—if that could be called a body -which possessed no substance—were as strange as their voices, being but -a vapor surrounding the soul—the shadow of a form; each emotion, thought -or impulse was therefore plainly discernible. Of speech there was no -need, consequently there was none; all sound emitted was but that of -spontaneity; laughter, cries of wonder, horror, and the like. - -The shriek of amazement that greeted his ears; the strange appearance of -the people; the weird surroundings so impressed Nordjansen that little, -cold shivers chased each other down his spine. He saw their thought, -their wonder and fear; as I have said, there was no need of language; -each spirit saw, and perfectly comprehended the thought of the other; it -was cause of amazement to these people that they could not see his -thought—the working of his mind; this wonderful fact—much more than the -mode of his advent, or of his presence—dominated each intelligence. - -He raised upon his elbow, and watched their growing awe; presently, he -saw this thought leap into one mind: “It is a God!” Instantly half a -dozen minds followed suit, the spark igniting the tinder as readily in -these strange intelligences, as it does among us. He watched with -fascinated curiosity the skepticism, the doubt, the hesitation, changing -to a slow growth of belief in the various understandings. - -Above all his wonder, above all his curiosity—a minimum of awe, and much -gratified vanity—one fact made itself felt; he was hungry, and he said -so. - -The panic was terrible! A multitudinous shriek answered him; no -variation in sound, no distinction of voices—a single, horrible note of -fear—and they flitted away—I cannot say walk, or run—for how can a vapor -do either?—they floated away in affright. - -He, seeing their dismayed thought, laughed; he arose to his feet, -stretched his muscles; it seemed enjoyable to stand upright once more -after lying inert for so long a time. - -As he moved about another shriek arose; the sound held an element of the -horrible in that one level, unvarying tone, and sent a fresh shiver -adown his spine. Soon, however, curiosity overcame their fear, and one -by one they timidly floated toward him; one, more courageous than the -rest, came so close that the vapory body half-encircled him; a -wonderfully pleasant sensation went through all his being; a moist -warmth, which conveyed a sense of fellowship—a kinship of soul, pure and -delightful. - -One after another gained courage, and approached, until he was -completely enveloped in the living mist. He saw the growing worship in -every mind; that adoration of the mysterious, which ofttimes serves for -a worship of the divine. - -“It is well,” thought Nordjansen, “Nordhung, people always look up to -you; these people recognize your superiority!” - -Notwithstanding his satisfaction, and self-laudation, he did not forget -that he was very hungry; he opened his mouth and pointed down his -throat, and used his jaws as though masticating; only bewilderment -greeted his most eloquent pantomime. How could they understand? Being -without body or substance they needed no food except that which entered -each vapory environment by absorption. Then occurred a strange thing to -Nordjansen; he cried out in anguish: “My God! Must I starve?” - -He sighed; a long, deep inspiration, and was instantly conscious of a -delicious sweetness in his mouth, a taste like a strange, but most -luscious fruit. He repeated the indrawing process until he felt -perfectly satisfied, without the unpleasantness which repletion gives. - -He wandered around a space which seemed inclosed, to which he could find -no limit; he had no conception of distance, perspective was lost in a -bewildering unreality of all surroundings; for instance, Nordhung -thought that he beheld a most beautiful tree, he desired a nearer view; -he wandered on and on until exhausted before he realized that here, -space, like time, had no known law; such being the case, of course, -Nordjansen had no means of knowing how long he dwelt in this strange -place. - -All these fantastic beings, with one exception, worshiped him as a God -sent among them for some great, but unknown purpose; he, seeing their -awe and worship, took pains to foster and increase it. To himself he -said: “Nordhung, you are indeed great; these beings know it; they are -fine creatures!” He lifted his shoulders a trifle more, and endeavored -to assume a godlike tread. - -The one exception of which I have spoken was a female; she worshiped him -as a woman often does, when she should but love. She hovered around him -by night and by day, she enveloped him, she would have permeated him; -she watched his every act, she hung upon, and learned to interpret his -looks; she suited herself to his moods, and her thoughts to his desires -as nearly as she could divine them; in fact, she would have thought his -thoughts could she have seen them as he saw hers. - -He learned many things which to him were very strange; he found the -source of the illumination of this place, a light that shone with steady -radiance; not as our sun shines for a few hours which we call day, and -kindly gives place to the darkness of night, that many may rest from -toil, and a few may sneak into evil under cover of its shadow. The two -poles, one entering from the north, the other from the south, here -formed a positive and a negative; which, with the power engendered as -the world turns on her axis, was made to produce an electric light of -wonderful brilliancy. He also learned to communicate his desires to -these beings with whom he mingled. Their amazement at his flesh, bone, -sinews, hidden mind, in fact, his entire personality grew continually; -they could not understand how such a condition could exist; _he_ was to -them a miracle, consequently to be worshiped. - -Nordjansen grew to admire these souls, so perfectly pure; so free from -all deceit, and truthful perforce; loving and faithful, as no taint of -evil _could_ find lodgment in their transparent minds. - -Pure and sweet as they were, his heart at times grew sick for his own -kind, and instead of the faint, moist, languorous atmosphere, with never -a disturbing storm, he longed for the rocky promontories of his Norway; -the reverberation of the rolling thunder among the hills, and the wild -lashing of the sea on the rocky base of the cliffs. Sometimes he -dreamed—half-awake, half-asleep—that the briny spray was dashing in his -face, and thought that he could taste the pungent savor of the salt, and -awoke to find the tears trickling down his cheek, moistening his tongue. -His heart grew faint unto sickness for the light of the sun, and the -shifting shadows of the clouds on the distant hills, where the grass -grew like a flower-decked carpet, and the white sheep bleated lovingly -to one another. And oh! for a sight of the stately, white-robed ships as -they sailed away into the unknown which he now deplored. He numbly -wondered what had become of his good ship, Nord Rhyn. - -Alas, that he had not been content with his father’s land, and his -father’s homely ways! - -He grew unutterably weary of the unreality of all things surrounding -him, he longed for the interchange of day and night; he longed for -food—actual food—with a throe of maddening pain, so keen was his desire; -he longed for creatures of flesh and blood, with their inborn -predilection for evil, which gave the doing of right things so much -sweeter flavor. He wearied of the love of the She which so completely -enveloped him, as men ever tire of that which is so wholly their own -that they cannot for one fascinating hour escape it; it is worse than a -diet of sweets, although the effect is the same, a nauseated surfeit. - -She, poor soul! She learned to dread his scowling brow, his harsh tone; -to shrink and tremble in wild affright whenever he ordered her away; she -sought ever to win a more kindly regard by added devotion, by hanging -more fondly and constantly about him. After all she differed not so -greatly from her sisters on the face of the earth. He grew more -intolerant of her presence, and violently ordered her to leave him; he -noted her agony of fear, her deathless devotion, and her hopeless pain -with indifference, as with a cry of despair she turned away. - -He seized the opportunity and fled, whither he knew not; he could but -die, which meant surcease from all the wild longings that so beset him. -On, ever onward! How far! How long! Oh, it was terror not to know—to -have no account of time—no knowledge of distance; it was like sailing a -ship through eternal void, no landmarks—no limit—just on, and on—so far -as he had knowledge of it. - -Ah! A change came over him. The spirit of the explorer stirred once more -within him. He felt that he was once again describing an immense circle, -as had been his experience upon entering; he felt that there was a -reason for this, and his mind became busy trying to solve the problem. - -“There is some purpose in this; come to think of it, there is a purpose -in most things, and I shall arrive at an understanding of this one,” he -murmured complacently. - -His surroundings were visibly changing, distance seemed tangible, all -things more real. A strange awesome stillness had fallen around him like -a mantle of dread, and every instant seemed to deepen its intensity; the -air, from being languorously balmy, had grown chill, and a strong -current hurried him forward. - -His perplexed mind began to grasp the solution which had evaded him; -were it not for these many turnings, and the immensity of the circle, -the cold draught from Pole to Pole would sweep through with all the -devastating force of a cyclone. He stopped and straightened himself, -bringing his hands together with a resounding thwack: “To be sure! Why, -of course! Nordhung, I thought you would master the problem; there is -very little that baffles you!” he cried approvingly. - -His voice sounded horrible; it echoed, and re-echoed like the laughter -of a thousand demons; in wild affright he started to run, but stumbled -and fell; a groan was wrung from his lips as he tried to rise; he -thought he heard a soft sigh, and a moist, warm vapor swept his bruised -cheek like a tender, clinging kiss. He stumbled to his feet regardless -of his wounds, and screamed out, as he struck furiously into the -darkness: “Go back; go to your own kind; I hate you!” he screamed, -crazed with rage and his fear of restraint, and as he was—as purely -animal fear ever is—brutal. A single, sad note answered him; sad as the -wail of the autumn wind when the last leaf floats down to earth; sad as -the cry of the Soul which—seeing Heaven’s wide-open gate—must still pass -by on the other side; as sad—oh, saddest of all, as when all love’s -hopes lie slain by one’s best beloved. Adieu! adieu! - -His hand was again lifted to strike, and—“Ah!” he caught his breath in a -sharp gasp; a gust of wind lifted him off his feet, precisely as in -entering, forcing his hands close to his sides, feet pressed -together—toes up—like the feet of the dead. Swift, swifter he sped; all -thought, all feeling lost in that mad rush; a vague consciousness alone -remained to him. It seemed that for ages he was borne along, then into -his dim consciousness entered the same rumbling sounds; heavy, jarring, -indistinguishable noises; cold, colder grew the atmosphere, the wind -pierced to the marrow of his bones; his very vitals seemed freezing. -Happily he lost consciousness. - - -For many days a wild storm swept the far southern sea, and a half-dozen -sailors, with their small boat, were thrown upon a rocky point which was -continually lashed by the icy waves; there they found a gaunt, -white-haired old man, who sobbed at sight of them. When, after weeks of -suffering from cold and hunger, they again put to sea in their small -boat, they took the old man with them. - -After many days of suffering—days which were like a horrible dream of -cloudless sky and lapping water, with never a drop to quench their -thirst; a ball of fire by day, which yet gave no grateful warmth, and a -maddening calm of moon at night; a nightmare of wandering thoughts, and -gibbering tongues, amid which the face of Nordjansen looked like a -fabled Gorgon, with eyes of restless fire—after many days of this -inexpressible horror they were taken on board a ship bound for the East -Indies. - -Nordjansen had crouched down by a coil of rope, his long gray beard hung -in matted strings, his scant white hair tossed wildly in the breeze. A -seaman, attending to his duty, stumbled over a loose end of the rope and -came near falling; he gave vent to an impatient exclamation in his -native tongue—Norwegian. No matter how fluently one speaks a foreign -language, in moments of emotion the tongue falls naturally into its -national speech. - -Nordjansen sprang to his feet, his eyes glowing wildly; his words came -tumbling over each other in voluble incoherency; he clasped his -compatriot’s knees and kissed the hands that would have pushed him away; -the fiery light died out of his eyes, leaving them sad and pathetic; at -last the man understood, and lifting him to his feet said kindly: - -“Tell me what you wish?” - -“I want to go to my Norway! I wish for my friends! I am weary of strange -lands, and stranger things! I long for the land of my birth, and would -once more hear our beloved language spoken by all!” he poured forth -volubly. - -“Yes, yes!” answered his friend soothingly, as he hurried away. - -Nordjansen’s eyes followed him hungrily, and from that time he watched -the leaping waves with glad delight as he stood for hours at the prow of -the boat. - -“Fly! Begone! Away with you, that the more speedily I may see my beloved -land,” he would cry with all the happy abandon of childhood. - -He waylaid Varman, and plied him with endless questions until the man -took every means of keeping out of his sight. - -Day followed day in sickening monotony, until Nordjansen laid his aching -head upon his coil of rope and wept in weariness of heart. - -“I shall never see my land again; Varman is deceiving me. I wish that I -had been less unkind to She; I should know _her_ thought; _She_ would -not deceive me!” - -He was so soon regretting that which he had cast side so carelessly, -forgetful that dead love knows no resurrection; neither can the divine -passion be put on or off as easily as we can reconsider our decision as -to cast-off garments. - -Thus he fretted until the hours were as days, and the days interminable; -when they hailed a passing ship, and he was transferred to the -homeward-bound vessel, and thus at last he reached the haven of his -desire—Norway. - -As his old feet tottered through the streets of his native place, all -things looked sad and strange; he looked piteously around, seeking a -familiar countenance, and when he found not one, he hid his face in his -shaking hands and wept aloud. - -Little children hid in their mothers’ gowns, and the old people shook -their heads stolidly when he asked in trembling tones if they knew his -old-time friends, and they replied, in accents of wonder: - -“We know them not; we heard never the names.” - -He asked but one more question: “Did you know my beautiful ship, the -Nord Rhyn, and her goodly crew? I was her commander!” with a sad attempt -at his old air of pride. - -“No, no! We never heard of such a ship,” they answered impatiently. He -sighed deeply and sadly, as he turned away, and climbed to the summit of -the crags his memory held so dear. - -At last he stood on the rocky height and looked around with saddened -eyes; it seemed as though the sun shone less bright, and that the hills -had grown bald and ugly; and as he looked toward the north which had so -fascinated him in the long ago, it appeared cold and forbidding. He sank -down forlornly, and with hand closed over his dim eyes he watched ever -the white-clad ships sailing past, and eagerly peered at each to learn -her name. - -“The Nord Rhyn will soon come into port; my sailors must have heard of -their commander’s return; they will know, and welcome me,” he would -repeat again and again, persistently clinging to this last hope. - -At times when the autumn winds sighed he would start up tremulously; “It -is _She_! I hear her voice! I wish that she would come!” He sighed -sorrowfully for the jewel which he had thrown away. - -One sweet spring morn found him, still with that quietude which ends all -weariness; he had found rest on the highest crag overlooking Tana Fiord, -on the same spot where he had sat and wished with restless heart in his -boyhood days. A sweet moisture rested on his cheek, a happy smile -touched his lips and the careworn wrinkles had smoothed away from his -brow. Perhaps She had known his sad longing, and with love’s tender -forgiving had answered his call in that last hour; the hour in which -with clearer vision and unselfish thought he stood on the threshold of -the higher plane. - -With kindly hands the simple people laid him away, afraid to neglect or -despise one of “God’s Children,” as they called those of unbalanced -mind; and as they passed around the open grave, each cast in a flower -and whispered pityingly: “God receive the poor old lunatic!” - - - - - IN THE BEYOND. - - -The summer sun beat oppressively down upon the heads of August Blair and -Aimee Herne, as they walked their horses slowly down the hilly road. -Aimee took off her hat and fanned her heated face: “Mercy! the lower -regions can’t be much hotter than this!” - -August laughed as he flicked at the overhanging branches of the trees -with his whip: “According to all accounts there isn’t very much shade -there.” - -“Just at present I could imagine only a mitigation of heat and a -perpetual breeze, as fitly belonging to that plane of existence,” -replied Aimee, in that light tone which either means nothing or hits the -truth without positive conception of its being such. - -“That speech embodies every person’s idea of heaven, doesn’t it? We wish -most earnestly for the condition we find lacking to our comfort in this -world; thus, to-day a cool wind and shade seem most desirable; next week -it might be quite different——” - -“A fire for instance,” said Aimee sarcastically. - -“That is another of man’s ideas constructed from the purely material, -and grafted into the spiritual tree; burning by fire is man’s conception -of the worst possible torment. Our ideas of the hereafter—and -incidentally of heaven—are very vague and uncertain; no mind can build -higher than its purest ideal, and our knowledge gained only from the -material world cannot grasp the spiritual. We speculate a little, and -take a flight in this or that direction; but like a bird at -night—bewildered by the arc lights in the street we fall back to -earth—and material things for all our types of happiness.” - -Aimee threw up her hand impatiently, “Oh, what ideas! I don’t want to -talk about such things; I prefer thinking how pleasant it is under this -great old oak. Let us rest here, August.” - -“All right,” he answered as he alighted and assisted her from the -saddle. They seated themselves on a grassy knoll at the foot of the -tree, and restfully watched the horses crop the short, sweet grass. - -August’s thought seemed to persistently linger on the subject of the -beyond: “There could be nothing more heavenly than this—were one’s mind -but in perfect accord with one’s surroundings,” said he. - -“Which very seldom happens to be the case,” answered Aimee. - -“Our own discordant restlessness is all that hinders this world from -actually being heaven!” replied he emphatically. - -“Oh, nonsense! This is earth, and that is good enough for me; I do not -wish to think on such gruesome subjects; life is so pleasant. Some time -I must prepare for eternity, I suppose; but I wish to enjoy myself now; -it is time enough when I have grown old to be solemn, and give up all -pleasures,” she half-pouted. - -August laid his head back against the boll of the tree and laughed -heartily. “So you think that one must be solemn to prepare for eternity? -In the first place we are in eternity now—the present is just as much a -part of eternity as the future state will be; eternity is only an -expression, meaning all time; it always was and always will be, and it -seems to me that the very best way to prepare for the future state is to -be innocently happy in this——” - -“_I_ think that you are talking nonsense—you make me afraid!” - -“Of what are you afraid? Afraid of opening the door to step into the -next room? Afraid to go to sleep in the evening of life, to awaken in -the sunlit morning of an advanced day? I’ll tell you what, Aimee, if I -go before you do—and return is possible—I will come back and tell you -what I find in the Beyond.” - -Aimee jumped up nervously, and walked away without speaking. - -August arose at the same time, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. -“Come back here!” he called. - -“No, indeed! I do not want to hear that kind of talk,” she replied -irritably. - -The clouds had been gathering in the west, and once or twice the thunder -had growled menacingly; but in the shelter of the trees they had not -observed the signals of the coming storm. - -A great drop of rain struck Aimee on the cheek, causing her to utter an -exclamation of surprise. - -“Come here, Aimee!” called August again, holding out his hands, a smile -on his lips; her petulance amused him. - -At that instant a bolt of lightning shot from the sky, blinding and -bewildering Aimee; it appeared to be at her very feet; her scream of -affright was drowned by the crash and reverberation of the thunder; she -essayed to go to August for protection, but a numbness paralyzed her -brain and limbs; the horses snorted wildly, and galloped away over the -road toward home. - -In a short time Aimee aroused herself, and called quaveringly, “August! -August!” but received no reply. - -She made an effort to cross the road, but her head swayed dizzily and -her limbs refused to support her body; a cloud-like haze seemed to float -between herself and August, where he sat apparently leaning back easily -against the tree. A few great drops of rain plashed down—making -miniature globes in the dust of the street—they pelted her in the face -and served to revive her a little. - -“August! August!” she called complainingly; still he made no reply. She -shaded her eyes with her hand and peered at him wonderingly; she thought -the sunlight was dazzling her vision, everything appeared blurred, -distorted and out of proportion; she petulantly resented the smile upon -August’s lips, she thought that he derided her fear. - -“It’s mean of you August!” she whimpered as she giddily crossed the -dusty road, staggering from side to side as she walked. - -The clouds had been gathering thick and fast, and the gloom of a late -twilight prevailed; the heavy thunder crashed and roared, -following—almost blending with—the blinding flashes of electricity. - -As she dropped at his feet complainingly, the flood gates of heaven -seemed opened; she crept to him, and reached up her arms to clasp his -neck in a childishly confident way: “Oh, protect me, August! Do let us -seek shelter!” - -As her arms closed about his neck his head fell forward inertly, the -body lurched over heavily, fell from her weak arms and rolled over -sidewise. The heavy rumble of the thunder, the roar of the rain, the -wild swaying of the sodden branches, and the flapping of the wet leaves -drowned her frightened cries. - -“Help! help!” she shrieked again and again; at times high and shrill, -again, almost inarticulate—scarcely above a hoarse whisper—as clutching -at his clothing she frantically tried to lift him and hold him erect. - -“Oh, August, my darling, what ails you? Speak to me! Speak to me!” she -cried wildly. - -A half-dozen men came dashing down the hill; they had spoken with August -and Aimee as they passed on their way; then when the storm was at its -height, seeing the horses galloping by riderless, they knew that some -accident must have befallen them. - -Aimee saw them coming, and redoubled her cries. - -“What is the matter?” “Are you hurt?” “Were you thrown from your -horses?” It was a babel of sounds; a confusion of questions. - -“I do not know! Oh, it is August!” answered Aimee incoherently. - -“Stand back,” said one who had been stooping over August. Continuing in -a low tone, “He is dead, struck by lightning.” - -“No! no! no!” shrieked Aimee shrilly: “He was speaking but an instant -ago; can’t you see that he is not dead! Why, he is smiling!” - -She clasped him more closely in her arms, and rocked herself back and -forth as a mother soothes her child. Gently they loosed her hold, and -through the sobbing trees bore their dripping burden to the nearest -farmhouse, soothing Aimee’s frantic grief with sympathetic words. - -August had been so amused at Aimee’s petulance and childish fear that he -had reached out his hands to call her to him as he would have called a -wayward child; in this attitude the descending bolt struck him. He -experienced for one brief instant the shock and sense of earthly pain, -followed immediately by a feeling of lightness and freedom—which none -but children experience in the physical body, and they but seldom—glad -to be, glorying in existence—which, instead of being lost through the -change, had become intensified and augmented. It seemed that a film had -been swept from his sight; all things were clearer and larger; and -things which had appeared enveloped in mystery—difficult to -understand—stood out plain and simple, like the white letters upon a -blackboard. - -His spirit, freed from earthly aches and pains, from the uncomfortable -sense of incumbrance, rose like a bird on the wing; his first sense of -bewilderment—caused by his rapid transit through space—gave place to an -exalted delight as he beheld the wonderful panorama spread out before -him—waves of silvery hue, tinged with violet shades—exactly proportioned -one with another—like a softly lapping, iridescent sea; long, low slopes -clothed in the same subdued color swept by him; he grew weary of the -sameness, and wished that he might catch a glimpse of the mountains -which should lie beyond those hills; their deep shadows and high lights -would be a restful change. Even as the discontent swept over him he -plunged into a gulf of shadows—shadows filled with silent voices—desire -made manifest without sound or motion—the spiritual understanding of the -purely spiritual. - -The multitudinous shadows were on every side; pressing on the right, -crowding on the left; before him and in the rear; close, closer—urging -for companionship; shrieking for guidance through the gulf of the vast -Unknown; through the trackless No Land which lies between the material -and the spiritual world. He felt their silent despairing cry, that they -were lost in this horrible void; they clutched at him as he swept past -them, and although there was no sound all this reached his spiritual -consciousness like the roar of the tempest, or the tumult and crash of -falling worlds, so magnified was his understanding of all things. - -The commotion horrified him; instincts of the plane of life now left -behind prompted resentment; he would have fought the impalpable—given -physical blows to things of no substance—to shadows. He felt a strange, -incongruous sense of mirth as he realized the absurdity of it—was he not -a disembodied spirit among a countless throng like unto himself? A wave -of pity for himself and all that surging throng swept over him. - -He was carried rapidly onward, although he realized no volition of his -own; darker, darker grew the way; all the accompanying shadows -disappeared until there was nothing to stir the deadly silence and -gloom; his longing for sound became torture—it was like holding the -breath expecting disaster—he felt an agonized desire to scream, and thus -break this horrible, waveless void into billows of uproar. This laying -off the flesh—and retaining all of the spiritual activity augmented by -being set so entirely free from all limitations of the material plane, -yet without chart or compass on the unknown spiritual sea, was -suggestive of difficulties bordering upon punishment, instead of the -unalloyed happiness expected. - -He grew very weary of this continued progress, with no known end in -view; it is the hope of accomplishment which makes all things—even -waiting—bearable. He whimsically likened himself to a fly in a sea of -ink; he was but a somber atom in a shroud of darkness, just a trifle -more dense than his environment. - -After that which seemed to him ages of time and limitless -space—forgetful that beyond the physical life there could exist neither -time nor space, as both are of man’s comprehension—the density lightened -a trifle; a seeming wall rose somberly before him, a tantalizing -suggestion of a means of ingress; and as he looked in fear and amaze a -door opened, from which there issued a blinding light, and illumined by -its rays he beheld a creature more beautiful than the imagination of man -ever conceived. - -The strong, onward-bearing current seemed at once to set in that -direction; thus, he became aware that his wish, his desire, governed the -current; heretofore he had drifted aimlessly—having no body to -control—and failing to comprehend that the spirit could be directed. The -knowledge came to him as does that which we call intuition—which is -nothing more nor less than spiritual understanding—that his wish -controlled the spirit, as his desire had governed the body. - -We often hear the departed spoken of as the “shade;” he found that upon -which he now gazed quite the reverse; a luminosity—outlining a charming -vagueness—a suggestion of the beautiful rather than a fact. The reality -never yet possessed the lure for man which suggestion holds; there was a -delusion of starry eyes, flowing hair, lips glowing with the enticement -of kisses, like the bewilderment of an entrancing dream; a seeming vague -roundness of form, which was but a figment of the desire. - -Warm and languorous grew the compelling current; fear fell away, a mad -desire for possession taking its place. His gaze seemed fixed upon the -entrancing vision. He was almost within the portal when a shudder ran -through his spirit as a chill goes through the body; a sudden wavering -of the spiritual vision, then—an appalled shrinking. - -The dismay caused a quick turning of the onward-bearing force, which -shot him out into the darkness; the door closed behind him, and his -intelligence collapsed for a brief space of time. - -That which had so frightened him was an abysmal pit, filled with -fighting, struggling fiends, each bearing a horrible impress of his -particular sin stamped upon his pain-distorted, shadowy semblance of a -human face, in characters as legible as words upon a written page. Their -sins continually mocked them; all their evil desires remained, -accentuated by their inability to gratify the evil propensities. His -most poignant fright was caused by recognizing many whom he had known in -the material life, who had stood high in the world’s esteem, and had -worn a cloak of superior sanctity. - -Helplessly he floated on; in his awful collapse he was unable to will -his course—if indeed he had known any course or destination. The awful, -crowding shadows seemed to bear him with them; he thought that he had -escaped them, yet here they were, and he was again but one of a -gruesome, soundless throng. - -He soon recovered from his fright, and was carried forward, if not more -hopefully, yet more resignedly, and thus he came to another door; -inscribed thereon in mellow radiance was this legend, “Knock, and it -shall be opened unto you.” - -With a thrill he remembered his earthly teaching. He drew near in fear -and awe—he thought to gently knock. Alas! Hands he had not! - -Grief surged through his spirit: “Ah, if I could but knock, that I might -enter in out of the shadows and despair!” he sighed. Even as the wish -formed, the door seemed to roll gently away; a soft glow enveloped him; -sweet odors encompassed him; a warm wave wafted him onward; the door -silently slid into place. With joy he realized that his humble desire -had typified knocking. All within was light, glory and beauty. - -Fear seized him; shame of his imperfections held him motionless. - -On every side, wafting around him, were creatures of surpassing -loveliness; no blemish visible in any one of them. In the body absolute -perfection of mind or matter is not to be found; here, the rule seemed -to be reversed—there existed not the slightest variation from lines of -perfect symmetry. Waves of intelligence floated out from each released -spirit, pure as the flawless diamond, and as calm as the waveless sea; -it seemed to him that over all there rested—not a chill—but the absence -of warmth; warmth and love are not compatible with absolute perfection. - -All human love is more or less riotous and selfish; the passion is like -an ocean, whose billows roll high, or rock in a gentle lullaby, but -never, never an unbroken calm. Also, ardor and warmth are the fruit of -desire, not necessarily sinful, but of the leaven of humanity. - -He felt, in the presence of these spirits of purity, the taint of the -world clinging to him like a soiled garment; he fancied he could smell -the mold of the grave, the odor of his decaying body. - -He looked with amaze upon those spirits from whom no thought emanated -save eternal worship of the Eternal One, seated forever on a “Great -White Throne” in their midst; before which even the fronded palms seemed -to lift up their heads in adoration. - -All have read that the floor of heaven is laid over “with gold and -precious stones;” and whose “walls are of jasper and onyx, and all -things costly and precious.” - -All other emotions now gave place to wonder. How could the earthly be so -mixed up with the spiritual? How could the love of “all things costly” -remain, and no taint of humanity linger? The desire for gold was born of -greed; and the love of precious stones was sired by selfishness. - -No one of all that vast throng seemed to observe him; the spiritual -vision of all seemed to be fixed upon Him who sat on high. A great -number seemed to have no vocation except to float around and around the -throne; the concourse seemed incessant, interminable. Another mighty -number twanged invisible harps. - -Here was fresh cause for amazement. How could a bodiless spirit touch -the strings of a harp? How could sound exist where there were no ears? -Does not science demonstrate that there is no such thing as noise, -unless there are ears to hear? This then was another figment of the -spiritual intelligence. - -His ideas became so tangled that it worried him, but he finally summed -up in this manner; each intelligence received that which was desired -purely, or believed implicitly; music, worship, beauty; each but an -expression of adoration. A narrow limit, truly! - -Many vapory forms floated around him, gently touching him with shadowy -wings. One sweet spirit ever pressed closely to his side as they neared -him in their slowly circling around that central figure—like motes in -the sun. A thought wave flowed from her intelligence to him, which he -interpreted, “Come join with me. Let us worship together!” - -He hesitated; the movements looked very dreamy and poetic, but what had -that to do with spirituality? - -Each spirit beamed with benignant light; eternal sweetness wafted around -them like the odor of innumerable flowers heavy with dew. Thought waves -rippled from spirit to spirit, transparent as a pellucid sea, gentle as -when the sweet south wind fans it into low, languid swells; pure as are -the lilies, and sweet unto faintness, as is their odor. His desire -hungered piteously: “Oh, for the scarlet of the passion flower and the -gold of the homely dandelion!” The sweet spirit gently touched him with -filmy wings; a thought wave reached his consciousness: “Cease rebelling; -you disturb the heavenly harmony. Oh come! Come with me!” - -It seemed that a sigh floated past him—it could not be—but oh, all -things were so unreal! Even the holiness and perfection seemed dreamy -and untrue—too cold and calm. - -A shiver ran through his spirit, he felt his earthiness cling about his -spirituality as had sodden garments adhered to his physical form; he was -weighted down by a sense of unworthiness and imperfection. The teachings -of his humanity so held him in thrall that he could not climb the -heights of exaltation on a single thought as all these souls appeared to -do. - -The alluring spirit came again; pressing still more closely, pleading -yet more fervently; a hint of earthly love in her prayer—vaguely -suggestive—as were all things else. - -He felt the Lofty Intelligence looking him through and through, and his -mind turned with a mighty longing to his former habitation; to him it -seemed that the limitations of the flesh were not so narrow as this -circumscribed routine. In this place was no progression; on earth, one -might at least make an effort. - -Reproachfully, compellingly, the Immaculate gazed upon him. - -Sweetly, gently, the fair spirit lured him, until his will was -compelled, and side by side with her who had so sweetly entreated, he -joined the slowly revolving circle. - -Having once consented, turning back was an impossibility; therein they -differed from those in the flesh. We easily slip from our effort after -higher things, and when we fall, fall far; they, having once turned -their spiritual gaze upward, could not turn away. As he floated on, side -by side with the Beauteous One, her sweet magnetism enveloped him like -the odor of wild wood flowers. - -His amazement increased; what worth in all this if he possessed no free -will? Compulsory virtue is of no avail. He wondered what purpose they -served floating about like butterflies on a summer breeze; and if it was -any particular pleasure to the Lord of All to behold them gyrate? Oh -dear! And did He never tire of even the Great White Throne? - -He thought, with a chill of repulsion, that the Perfect One, who did -nothing but sit on a throne to be worshiped, was a less beautiful -expression of the Deity than the flowers of the field, or the birds that -wing their glad flight through the ether; also, that the incessant -twanging of harps was not so sweet a music, or so filled with worship, -as the babbling of the brook, or the whisper of the wind, to Him who -created them. - -He was so weary of it all, even to the vapory, melodious voices of the -shadowy choir; he wondered if they never rested; also, if it was because -of the taint of his humanity that he could not appreciate the beauty and -sublimity of it. - -He remembered that from childhood he had been taught that heaven was as -he now saw it, and whenever he had been given a hard task it had -appeared to him that the height of enjoyment would be in having nothing -to do; and that heaven was a place of eternal rest, had ever been held -out as an inducement to exalted virtue, and—excessive labor. He found -the inactivity terribly irksome, it reminded him of worldly _ennui_; -then, the unreality bewildered him—it was like pressing the fingers upon -the eyelids—persons, places and things are vividly seen, and yet we know -that it is but a chimera of the brain; a vision of the intelligence. So -he grew to doubt the reality of everything. He could not keep his -spirituality keyed up to the proper pitch; his intelligence would wander -back to earth and mortal love. The purely spiritual seemed to him to be -lacking. It is only given to humanity to burn hot and cold; to reach the -heights of bliss and the depths of despair; even that which we call -despair has its amelioration, for never yet was it so dark but, given a -little time, humanity looks upward to where the sun is shining, and -hopes and strives to reach the illuminated summit; but here—there could -be but this endless sameness through all eternity, without even the -pleasure of striving, “thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.” - -He rebelled madly; he preferred the trials and the pains of the body, -with the power to control his actions, to the spiritual and no will of -his own. Eternal leisure has its unpleasant features, though many seem -to suppose that eternal leisure and eternal felicity are synonymous. - -He looked back with positive longing to the hard work, and consequent -weariness; from bodily fatigue rest had been sweet; but the unending -spiritual lassitude of eternity was terrible to contemplate. A sad, -reproachful thought wave met his pessimistic, spiritual cry; with shame -and terror, he felt that the Perfect One saw all his discontent and -rebellion—still he could not but wonder. Had all these placid souls been -as easily swayed while in the body, as they were in the spirit? Their -very sweetness and complaisance exasperated him; he thought, with a very -human perverseness, that he should like to see one of them get angry, so -as to get up a little excitement; instead, they were as sweet as the -dripping sap of the budding maple, and—as insipid. Things and persons -can be too good. Better a thunderstorm and a purified atmosphere than a -sultry, lifeless day. - -The exasperation grew upon him. The thought wave from his companion was -like a perpetual sigh; a curious blending of the wish to adore, and the -desire to be loved. He felt the reproach of the myriad souls who brushed -him with filmy wings. Sad reproof fell upon him from Him seated over -all. - -Waves of love and adoration rose and fell on the soft, enervating air, -like strains of languid music, the perfect rhythm madly suggestive to -him of the sweetness and longing of human love. This love of his -companion spirit revolted him; it was like a draught of tepid water to -the traveler dying of heat and thirst; her thought wave had the effect -of clinging hands, which would not let him go, and he grew almost to -hate her. - -As they once more came around that endless circle he saw the door -sliding noiselessly open, a spirit was for an instant outlined against -the darkness without; the door had already commenced to close; he madly -broke away from the compelling current of the She, who would have held -him. His consciousness felt her despairing cry breaking the placidity of -that spiritual atmosphere, as the tornado sweeps the ocean, lashing it -into frightful waves. - -The All Seeing looked at him with awful wrath and majesty. He but sped -the faster. The door was closing rapidly; he forgot the terrors of the -darkness without—he forgot the multitude of drifting souls, and their -horrible contact—he forgot that he knew not where he should go in all -that limitless gloom; he strove madly to reach the door ere it closed, -to once more shut him into that horrible inactivity, and forced -semblance of adoration. - -He reached the door—yet a little space open; the guardian angel paused -in amazement—it sufficed. He darted through; but instead of floating off -on the magnetic current as he had expected, he plunged downward—down, -down, down! Would he never reach a resting-place? - -Oh, for a voice to cry aloud! Oh, for the company of even the gruesome -shadows! Though he loathed and feared them, this absolute isolation held -a greater terror, the fear that this state might be perpetual. One of -the first principles of all life is resistance, and deprived of all -motive—which is but another way of saying of all power of resistance—he -felt as though in the throes of a spiritual vertigo. - -He struggled frantically to cry aloud, he imagined that a ray of light -pierced the gloom in the distance; with a mad effort he struggled -upward, unseen hands caught and held him down, and still that -tantalizing ray of light flickered and glowed like a beckoning ray of -hope. - -Within its radius grew a face—his swooning soul revived—it bore the -lineaments of Aimee; she too must have passed over to the Beyond. - -Like sweetest music a sound reached him; sweeter than all the mythical -harps are the tones of the human voice—and succeeding the deadly silence -through which he had passed—it flooded his whole being with delight. -Aimee was stooping over him caressingly, her words were very simple: -“August, dear, are you better?” - -His fingers closed feebly over her hand, as he whispered faintly, “Oh, I -fell so far! How came you to catch me?” - -She answered him soothingly, and held an invigorating drink to his lips; -he drank obediently and immediately dropped into a refreshing slumber. - - * * * * * - -When through the rush and roar of the storm the frightened men bore -August’s body to the farmhouse there was no disfiguring trace upon him -except a slight blue line, like a faint pencil mark, extending from brow -to chin; he lay like one asleep, that faint, sweet smile still upon his -lips. In a state of mental collapse Aimee accompanied them, and for days -her condition bordered upon insanity; when they made preparations to -bury August, she cried so piteously that he was not dead, that they were -forced to delay the final ceremonies; this was repeated until her -persistence won a measure of unwilling belief, and a council of -physicians was called, who decided that he was in a cataleptic -condition. - -Aimee scarcely left his bedside until he recovered consciousness. - -About a week after this occurred, as he lay on a couch drawn up to the -open window, languidly looking at the softly rustling leaves, the green -grass, the glowing flowers, he sighed restlessly. - -Aimee was at his side instantly: “What is it, August? Are you in pain?” - -“Oh, no! I was only thinking how much nicer this is than heaven, and -wondering why it is that people are not more content in this beautiful -world; we have such infinite variety, such happy conditions, and yet -humanity is so unsatisfied.” He paused a moment, then asked, “Didn’t you -know that I was in heaven while I was dead?” - -“I know that you are talking fearful nonsense!” answered Aimee severely. - -“Do you think it nonsense that I think this world so beautiful?” he -asked teasingly. - -“You know that I do not mean that; but that is nonsense about your going -to heaven.” - -“But I did go there and it made me awful tired! I am glad that I -returned to earth again,” said he. - -“Oh, August! You are perfectly horrid!” was Aimee’s shocked rejoinder. - -He smiled, but went on to relate his strange experience. - -“But you were not really dead, you know,” she replied as he finished the -recital. - -“Do you think that?” he answered thoughtfully; “I should like to have -some one—some person who really knows—explain the difference between -that which is called trance, and death, except as to duration. Where was -my soul during all that time? Not in the body of a certainty. I know -that my spirit went to heaven; everything there was just as I had been -taught from childhood that it would be; that teaching could not by any -possibility be wrong!” he added conclusively, but with a merry twinkle -in his eye. - -Later on, sweetly and seriously he said, “I shall always love and -appreciate nature so much more for that experience; of things infinite -we know not the method; we behold the result, and we know that the -Creator _is_. All nature unites into a rhythm of grandest praise to Him -who is part and parcel of all things good. The leaf on the tree whispers -of his abiding presence; the flower that springs from the mold lifts its -face to the sun and air, and speaks of the Life, glorifying Him with its -beauteous colors. God is the very principle of all life. He is not an -Idle God; his work goes on forever, without haste, without cessation. We -are created in his image; not as to the physical, which must change its -form, and subserve in other ways, but as to the spiritual, which, if we -will not pervert our higher natures—will grow to sublime heights of -purity and goodness—the higher we place our standard the nearer we -approach the Divine. - -“We sin continually against our better selves, our physical bodies and -our spiritual natures, we gorge the body and starve the mind; we -overwork the perishable physical, and let the mental and spiritual rust, -while we heap up a little gold and silver for those who shall come after -us to squander and quarrel over. We strive after a heaven in the future, -and neglect that which only is ours to-day. Why wait for an impossible -time, and a mythical place? We had best take a share of it each day; it -is here if we will accept it; for, dearest Aimee, what does heaven mean -but _happiness_?” - - - - - THE TRAGEDY OF THE GNOMES. - - -Many, many ages ago this fair old world of ours wore a solemn and -forbidding aspect; no carpet of thick, green grass eased the footfall of -man as he climbed the hills; no human voice was heard amid the -desolation—ice, ice everywhere—from the North Pole to the center of that -which is now the temperate zone, and only such life peopled this region -as could endure the rigor of a more than arctic condition. Vast sheets -of ice, in depth immeasurable, covered the surface of the hills and -valleys, broken toward the tropics into serrated edges—the verdure -running up an occasional valley, as though in laughing derisions of its -neighbors the ice-imprisoned mountains. - -In those days there existed only hideous animals and reptiles of size -great and awful; animals whose terrible voice shook the mountains like -an earthquake; slimy or scaly reptiles who walked on many feet, or -dragged a hideous length along the ice-covered rocks. It seemed as if -the great Creator must have fashioned all existent things in an hour of -wrath, or that man, having existed, had been for some sin exterminated -by that icy inundation, and that animal creation had so displeased him -that he had fashioned them in grotesque caricature upon all grace and -beauty. - -Man esteems himself higher than all other created things; who shall say -that the great, buzzing bluebottle fly does not think the same of -himself, and perhaps, with as much reason; it is at most but a grade of -intelligence; and what do we understand of that Intelligence which is -above _us_? - -In one of the green valleys running up into the foothills of what is now -called the Rocky Mountains, frisked and played a band of Gnomes. These -were but a fairy people, differing only from the fairies of woodland -glade and dell in this; those fairy folk were things of beauty like -imprisoned sunbeams; lighter than gossamer, they floated hither and -thither, always trending toward the tropics, where the sun shone -radiantly warm, and the silvery moon lighted the verdant carpet of -grass, and the sweet south wind rang the lily bells in merry chime; -there they idled away each sunny day—creatures of light and frivolity. - -These Gnomes were a sturdier, darker folk, short in stature, but with a -breadth of shoulder, a depth of chest, and muscles fit for giants. -Though for an occasional frolic they danced and roughly tossed each -other about in the valley, they better loved their homes in the heart of -the ice-covered mountains, where they forged beautiful things from the -yellow metal, or decked their cavern homes with softly glowing, or -fiery-eyed jewels; thus from earnest labor their faces gained a look of -firmness and determination; they were homely, but were good to look -upon, lighted as their faces were by love and kindliness. - -One among them was wondrously fair: Lilleela they called her. Her hair -was like silk as it winds from the cocoon; her eyes were blue as the sky -when it shows between the fleecy clouds of summer; her cheeks were as -though they had been kissed by the wild rose blooms, which left their -dainty stains upon the fair skin. She was as sweet and pure as the -breath of the dawn. - -Walado was her lover; a short, deep-chested giant, with a face like a -ripe walnut—all seams and puckers; not with age, but with jolly -laughter, and intent, hard work. Lilleela must have the finest of -rubies, on strings of beaten gold; tiny silver bells must be made, to -ring their sweet chimes with every joyous movement; dainty chains of -gold—set with amethyst, rubies and diamonds—must be wrought to bind the -floating cloud of hair. Away down in the heart of the mountain Walado -plied his little hammer of polished stone—clink-clink-clink all day long -like a refrain it accompanied his happy song. - -One fair day the troop of Gnomes went down into the green valley for a -holiday. - -Walado objected: “No, no! You can go, but I must finish this golden -girdle for my Lilleela, and then, there are sandals of gold to be set -with precious stones for her feet—they are too sweet and fair to be -bruised by the rocks,” he had answered, screwing up his face into a -funny little smile. - -“Oh, do come, Walado! The girdle and sandals can wait! The sun is so -cold and sorrowful up here, but down in the valley it is so beautiful!” -pleaded Lilleela. - -Her blue eyes moulded his will like warm wax, and over the ice they sped -away many, many miles, to where its broken edges lay like icicles -flattened out with huge rollers; some having sharp, sword-like points, -others rounded and scalloped, as though in fanciful adornment. All along -the border of the valley, reaching in places high up on the mountain -side—wherever there were breaks in the ice—hardy trees had planted their -feet, and lifted their heads to catch a breath of the warmer air of the -tropics; some few, essaying to climb still higher, or being less -hardy—reached their dead arms abroad, or pointed with ghostly fingers -toward the icy desolation in warning to their kind. - -These happy, childlike beings, instead of walking, had a gliding -movement which carried them over the ground very rapidly; laughing, -tumbling, pushing one another in merry sport, they sped on as though -wings were attached to their feet. Hand in hand went Walado and -Lilleela; his nut-brown face drawing into a nest of comical wrinkles, -which were so many happy smiles; her look was like the sun, bright and -warm. - -Of a sudden she stopped and shivered: “Oh, my Walado, what was that?” -From off the mountain height had come a long, low wail, and a chill was -borne with it which froze them with fear. - -Walado gathered her in his embrace, and shading his eyes with one hand, -looked back over the mountain: “Fear not, my Lilleela, ’tis but the -voice of the storm on its way from the far north. See! We shall soon be -in the beautiful valley, where he cannot come!” - -“Let us hasten, then, for in my heart I feel a chill which is like -death.” - -Walado gathered her closer to him: “Little sun beam! Am I not able to -shield you from the shadow of the dark cloud?” - -She patted his brown face with her wee, rose-leaf palms, and kissed the -wrinkles on his brown cheeks lovingly. - -“Yes, my Walado; your arm is as strong as your heart is brave, but—” she -broke off abruptly: “Let us fly!” she finished with a sound between a -laugh and a sob as the wailing came borne from the mountain heights once -more. - -Turning their affrighted glance backward, they saw the tall pines at the -foot of the hills swaying wildly; some which stood so tall and straight -were snatched off like a brittle weed and tossed down the mountain side. - -Lilleela shivered again, remembering the look the fearful Ice King had -given her as he rode above the mountain height upon which she stood at -twilight hour; he was seated upon a cloud of inky blackness; his eyes -shot forth red and yellow flame, like the terrible light which streamed -up from the far north; his lips were blue and hideous, and his matted -hair, and long, tangled beard, were a mixture of frost and ice. He -pointed a finger at her which looked as though belonging to the hand of -one long since dead—so rigid and bloodless it appeared—the nails showed -blue and ghastly. With a voice like the whistling north wind, he said, -“You’ll make a bonny bride for the Ice King! Your youth will warm my old -blood finely! o-We-ee, Y-e-ss!” The cloud passed on, and bore him from -her view, but the deadly chill remained, for well Lilleela knew that his -love meant death, as his hate meant destruction. - -For this reason the wailing sound shook her with an awful fear, but she -dared not tell Walado; she feared that he would turn and seek the -terrible monarch whose simple touch was death; once more she caught -Walado’s hand, crying gayly, “Come, come, before the storm god overtakes -us!” - -They romped and played through all that happy day; they climbed the -steep inclines, and sitting on the glittering ice dashed down to the -valley below, tumbling over and over, with laughter sweet as the -tinkling of silver bells; it seemed strange to hear such sweet and -musical sounds issuing from those queer little bodies, but the sound -fitfully represented the sweet harmonious souls within. - -At last, worn out with play, they climbed the long, icy hills; they -wound around the towering rocks, they clung to dizzy precipices; they -crept by the lairs of horrible animals with noiseless tread; ever upward -and onward toward the North Pole, where life had grown old and dead, -while the new life had slipped down toward the equator. - -“Oh, why do we journey so far to-night, Walado?” said Lilleela wearily. - -“There is a mountain lying in the light of the northern star, which is -filled with yellow gold; its caverns are lined with jewels; I seek them -for you, my Lilleela.” - -As he ceased speaking, again that wailing sound filled with awful menace -smote their ears: “o-o-W-ee” a sound that rose from fretful discontent -into fiercest anger, then died away like a long sigh of satisfied hate. - -“I am afraid, Walado! Oh do return!” cried Lilleela in terror. - -“’Tis but the wind, beloved one,” answered Walado stoutly, though he too -shivered. - -“Nay! nay! It is the Ice King passing by in his chariot of storm, and -drawn by his slaves—the winds of the hurricane,” she cried frantically, -fear making her pallid lips tremble. - -Walado’s wrinkled visage grew stern—all the pleasant lines drawn out of -it; he understood more than her words told him. - -“Has he dared to look upon you, with a desire to possess you? Knows he -not that you are mine? I am not worthy of you—except as love for you -makes me worthy—” his voice dropping into tender cadence, “but he—the -monarch of all cruelty—is not of our kind. His very kiss is death; let -him find a bride in his own frozen empire—the North Pole!” He shook his -clinched hand in the direction of the swift rushing shadow, which so -depressed them all: “Haste! haste, men and maidens! Let us flee to our -own mountain home, where we can defy the monster! Our Lilleela has just -cause for fear, for none upon whom he has looked with the desire for -possession ever escaped him; and it is only by speedily reaching our -caverns that we may hope for safety.” - -They turned about, and like a flock of frightened birds they flitted -away, with no more noise than would be made by the rustle of a bat’s -wing, and were lost in the gloom. - -The moon shone out cold and pale, as though grieving over the dread -desolation and lighted up the angry face of the Ice King with a pallid -luster; he puffed out his gaunt cheeks menacingly; his eyes darted flame -like the quick thrusts of a sword blade in deadly battle; as he saw that -the Gnomes had fled he shrieked in wrath. He swayed the tall trees, and -tossed their dead branches in every direction; he fiercely threw the -rocks from the lofty mountain summits, and as they went crashing down, -down, with thunderous noise, they splintered and tore up the ice like a -silver foam, which glittered and flashed with pale prismatic glow as it -caught the moon’s sad, cold ray. - -Faster, faster flew the tiny band; closer clung Lilleela to Walado’s -hand as that wrathful shriek reached their ears; dashing wildly past the -brow of the darkly towering mountain, as the crashing of rocks smote -them with wild affright; leaping across the roaring torrent, to slip and -sprawl on the glassy ice of the further bank; up and away, bruised and -sore; past lifeless trees, whose dead branches were falling all about -them, until at last they reached a mountain home seldom used by them. -Nothing was to be seen save a tiny crevice between the rocks; one after -another they lay down, and silently slid through; then, and not until -then, Walado spoke: - -“We are safe! Even the Ice King cannot enter here! We are safe, quite -safe!” - -“Are you sure? Ah, my Walado, he is so vengeful!” sighed Lilleela. -Walado laughed, all his funny little puckers laughing as well: - -“He knows nothing of our hiding place, and he could not force his great -rigid body through the narrow opening. Oh, we are quite safe!” he -reiterated gleefully. - -But Lilleela sighed. - -Walado felt the hopelessness of that sound, and it grieved his tender -heart; he passed his rugged, brown hand over her flossy hair, with a -touch as soft as the brushing of a butterfly’s wing. - -“My treasure, if ill befall us here in this our vaulted hall, there are -still the lower caverns, where none can possibly come save ‘we who -know’.” - -They soon regained confidence, and joked and made merry; they were such -trusting, childlike beings, taking the comfort and joy of each hour at -its utmost worth. - -Their enjoyment was at its height, when faintly heard came that long -chilling wail. Two of their number had gone outside unnoticed by Walado; -they came shooting in through the entrance, their brown faces bleached -an ashen gray, their teeth chattering, their eyes protruding. All sprang -up in wild affright. - -“Where have you been? What is the matter?” cried Walado, as sternly as -the gentle soul could speak. - -“We but crept out for the birds we had snared! We thought to help out -the feast!” said Tador, the hairy one. - -“And I had a skin of berries that I gathered in the valley below; they -were very sweet, Walado!” answered Sudana, the good. - -“Tell me what you saw,” replied Walado sadly, his anger melted away by -their deprecating looks and words. - -Sudana answered: “We saw the Ice King; his cloud chariot so low that it -touched the top of the mountain, he was so angry that the frost flew in -great clouds from his nostrils; his breath reached us and chilled us -through.” - -Walado opened his lips to speak, when—“O-o-W-W-ee,” filling all that -vaulted chamber with the dread sound, it came borne on a wind so chill -that it pierced the hearts of each with cold and fear. - -These loving souls had never felt the need of a ruler, each doing his -utmost through love for all, thus there had been no dissensions; now all -turned instinctively to Walado for guidance. They were growing benumbed -with the chill of that icy breath. - -Walado silently pointed to the narrow passage leading deep into the -bowels of the earth. Each took his beloved by the hand and prepared for -the descent; before they had taken so much as one step, there came a -crash so awful that it shook the great mountain to its center; the -falling of rocks resounded in deafening commotion; the Ice King’s -snarling wail echoed and re-echoed throughout the cavern; bitter, bitter -cold grew the air; crash—crash—crash, came the sound of falling -mountains heaped upon them; covering them deeply beneath the _débris_. - -Then was a new horror added; the roaring and growling of many horrible -beasts, as they fought and struggled for entrance through the narrow -passageway, to escape the falling ruins, and the deadly cold. - -There was the shrieking and tumult of the tempest; the hiss and roar of -the struggling reptiles, but higher and shriller than all else was the -fierce wailing menace of the angry Ice King; it shrieked to them -insolently: “You defy me, do you? We’ll see! We’ll s-e-e!” - -Gray and pallid grew the little brown faces as they silently followed -Walado down into the bowels of the earth until they came to a lofty -room; here they huddled silently together. - -Thus they remained day after day, night after night, no ray of light to -distinguish the one from the other; but as time passed on the pangs of -hunger assailed them fiercely. Tador’s birds were divided, and by -morsels eaten; Sudana’s berries were parceled out by ones and by twos, -Walado adding all his share to Lilleela’s, although she knew not that it -was so; grayer grew his little, wrinkled face, but ever it smiled -tenderly upon Lilleela, and with patient kindness he answered all -questions in unselfish endeavor to comfort and cheer the others. For a -time they could feel the earth quiver and vibrate as though in -shuddering fear, then came a time of awful calm, when the sound of a -voice smote the deadly silence with all the horror of thunder tones, -until they shrank affrighted, and spoke only in awed whispers—afraid of -the awful echo which answered sound. Paler and more spiritlike grew -Lilleela; sadder, sadder grew Walado as he pillowed her head upon his -broad breast. The sighs of all rose incessantly! - -At last Tador whispered, “Shall I not descend further toward the center -of the earth? It will be warmer than it is here—it grows so very cold!” -shivering. - -“As you wish, Tador,” replied Walado sadly. - -Hearing Walado’s answer all clamored to accompany him—anything seemed -preferable to this inaction. - -As they prepared for the descent, Sudana said: “We do not know what we -may find, Walado,” trying to speak hopefully. - -“Gold and jewels in plenty, but all that lies hidden in the whole -mountain range, are not worth as much as one juicy berry,” and he -glanced at Lilleela’s wan face. She was far too weak to accompany the -party, and all insisted that Walado must remain with her; he silently -folded her in his arms; he would not have left her. - -She raised her sad eyes to his face: “Better had I have given myself to -the Ice King; then I only should have perished,” she said. - -“No! no! no!” whispered they, as with one voice. - -Wearily, wearily time passed on, but they did not return. Lilleela dozed -and whispered fitfully, but Walado sat with staring eyes, and listened -intently for sounds of his comrades, he was afraid to move lest he -disturb his precious burden. - -At last she raised herself up on her elbow, her eyes full of agony: “Oh, -Walado, take me up above—I cannot breathe here! Oh, I must get one -breath of air!” her chest heaving convulsively, her hollow cheeks -palpitating with the struggle for inhalation. - -One great tear rolled down Walado’s cheek, and fell splashing on the -rocky floor. - -Around his waist he wore a rope made of the hide of animals, which -served to hold his stone hammer and ax; with this rope he bound Lilleela -to him, passing it under her arms and around his neck. - -“Dear one, put your arms about my neck to steady yourself all that you -are able, and I will carry you safely up.” - -Her chest rose and fell spasmodically; her heart fluttered faintly, or -thumped with wild, irregular motion. - -The walls of the shaft were covered with ice, rendering it almost -impossible to obtain a foothold; inch by inch he made slow headway, -every muscle strained to its utmost tension; his hands leaving stains of -blood with every grasp. He could at last see a ray—scarcely of light, -but a little less gloom; he was so exhausted that he was gasping for -breath; he placed his hands upon a slight projection for one more -effort—it may have been that his eagerness was too great, or that he -grasped but brittle ice which broke off—for he fell. Down, down he -slipped, with inconceivable rapidity; weak from want of food, and -frightened lest he injure his beloved, he lost his presence of mind. - -Lilleela recalled his wandering faculties; after one frantic scream, she -made no outcry—indeed she had little breath for speech—but with her lips -close to his ear she whispered: “Throw out your hands and feet against -the wall, and I will do the same; we may at least break the fall!” -Little by little the speed decreased, until as Walado’s foot touched -another projection they stopped altogether. He waited long enough to -recover breath and a little strength. Lilleela’s head fell over -sidewise; she had fainted, and hung a dead weight about his neck; he -dared not loose his hands, though he madly longed to caress the cheek -which felt so cold to his trembling lips. Once more, nerved by -desperation, he made an effort to reach the upper cave; slowly and -carefully he climbed; resting often—a hand or foot slipping—clinging -frantically as the ice became thicker, and the ascent more difficult. At -last, just as his fingers were over the upper edge his foot slipped, and -threw the other from its resting-place; for one breathless instant he -hung suspended by his fingers—Lilleela’s lifeless weight dragging him -down! Sparks of fire shot before his eyes! A noise as of rushing water -sounded in his ears: His breathing became labored and stertorious! A -bitter cry rose to his lips as Lilleela’s cold cheek touched his -drooping face; he made one supreme effort, and half unconscious he lay -upon the floor of the upper cavern, Lilleela’s cold form clasped in his -embrace! - -The chill at length restored him to consciousness; he sat up and unbound -Lilleela; he struck two pieces of flint rapidly together, and ignited -the punk which he carried in a bag about his neck. He observed that the -cold wind had ceased blowing in, thus he knew that the Ice King must -have departed, probably believing that all were dead. Well, so they -were—all but himself—and—perhaps Lilleela! - -He felt for her heart, but could find no pulsation; he kissed her cold -cheeks, and blew his warm breath between her parted lips; at last the -madness of despair took possession of him. He groveled on the icy floor! -He shrieked aloud, to be answered only by a thousand hollow echoes! He -ran to the opening through which they had entered, and found the passage -barred by rocks and dirt; he tore at the rubbish with his hands as an -animal digs with its claws, only to fall back in despair with the tears -coursing down his cheeks. - -“Oh, my Lilleela! If I could but reach the air! If I could only carry -you into the sunshine and let it warm your cold face! Oh, my Lilleela. -Oh, my Lilleela!” he cried, gathering her once more into his arms. All -the cave was now lighted with a dim, red light, from a few slivers of -wood ignited with the burning punk. Water had oozed through the rocks -from above and formed long, glittering icicles, frozen by the fierce -breath of the Ice King; the floors and walls were likewise of ice, cold -and scintillating. The sighs which had arisen from the imprisoned Gnomes -had congealed into forms of wonderful beauty, as pure as the white souls -of the passing spirits; all over that arched ceiling hung fairy curtains -of frost, wonderful jewels, each like a frozen tear, ornamented each -jutting point. Walado sat down with his back against an angle of the -wall, and clasped Lilleela in loving embrace; he smiled sadly yet -lovingly as his eyes rested upon walls and dome: “It is a fitting tomb -for thy fair body, my beloved! Thy spirit, not even the Ice King can -imprison; and I—thine even in death—I go with thee, to serve thee -still!” - -He bowed his face against her fair hair, and as he so rested his spirit -left his homely little body. - -It seems almost a pity that they could not have known how fully their -wrongs were avenged. Hot waves washed up from the tropic seas and melted -the crust of ice with which the cruel monarch had encased all the hills; -and he was driven by the south wind to his lair at the North Pole, there -to remain in expiation forever. Thus the hills became fertile, and with -the passing of those pure souls there sprang to life on the mountain -side—the primrose, for Lilleela’s pink-white skin; the columbine, for -the azure of her eyes; the gentian, for the crimson of her lips; and the -tall, white lily, for the stately grace of her body; and always the -brown-coated robin, with his warm breast, sings lovingly by day and -sleeps in their midst by night, and thus Walado’s soul still faithfully -serves his beloved. - - - - - AN UNFAIR EXCHANGE. - - -In and around the bank of “Lombard and Lombard” all was confusion. - -Arthur Lombard, the senior member of the firm, had suddenly fallen to -the floor as he was entering his office, to all appearance dead. -Physicians were hastily summoned; policemen were called to keep out the -ubiquitous small boy, and the omnipresent curiosity seeker. The great -doors were closed with a crash as the grave physician gave his verdict: -“He is dead; heart failure!” The truth which conveys a great grief, ever -seems heartless, and in a degree, coarse. - -Death shocks us ever, we think of it as connected with a sick bed and -fit preparation; deep down in our inner consciousness we form plans; -when the dark angel shall knock at our door, we will hastily don our -robes of sanctity, and fly away to eternal bliss. We are horrified when -he smites one of our number unaware—but we never think it might have -been us instead. - -The dead body was removed to his residence in the most fashionable part -of the city; crape hung from the elegant portal; crape draped the closed -doors of the bank, and lent adventitious aid to the gloom of the high -walled, narrow street. - -How many truly mourned I cannot say; a merchant in high standing -exchanged views with an artisan, both equally interested, as both had -all they possessed in the bark, albeit one had thousands of dollars -deposited, the other but a few hundred. - -“How will it affect the bank?” questioned the artisan. - -“I really could not say, but I think not seriously,” was the guarded -reply. - -“As I understand, he was the head of the concern.” - -“Y-e-s, but Gus Lombard is all right. It is a pity, though, that Arthur -was taken off.” - -Such is the sorrow of the world; a few who have known us intimately may -feel a less selfish grief; our motives are so complex, and selfishness -so much a part of human nature, that we seldom judge our own actions -correctly. If but one or two can say with sincerity that our lives and -our language were pure, then we shall not have lived in vain, as every -living being—whether good or bad—will influence some other to follow his -example. Lombard had been an unmarried man, who kept up a fine -establishment, and lived in good style; but being very reticent few knew -aught of his business affairs. - -He was laid out in one of the parlors; windows were darkened; lamps were -shaded; heavy carpets deadened the footfalls, until the silence and -gloom became oppressive. - -Late at night, three days after he was stricken down, a slight, fair -girl entered the parlor noiselessly; Edith Herford had been his ward; -she had also been his betrothed, although no one save his brother Gus -was aware of the fact. Noiselessly she pushed aside the _portières_, and -seeing the man on watch lying back in his chair, sleeping soundly, she -crossed the room, and knelt beside the coffin. - -Sobs shook her slight frame as she laid her face on his cold breast: -“Oh, Arthur, my beloved!” she whispered, caressing his cold face, -kissing the folded hands. - -“To-morrow they will put you out of my sight, and I shall be indeed -bereft. Oh, my love! my love!” - -With bowed head she wept silently; the ticking of the clock sounded loud -and awesome in the unnatural silence, “tick-tock, tick-tock; time-going, -time-gone,” it seemed to say; the breathing of the sleeping watcher -vibrated on the still air like an electric shock; a brooding mystery -seemed to hang over the dead form, it appeared like sculptured marble, -which at any moment might become instinct with life; it was hard to -realize that the soul had gone from the body, the features were so -placid, and were tinged with a roseate glow by the shades on the -incandescent light. - -Edith’s nerves were keyed up to their highest pitch, it seemed to her -that she must scream; as she pressed her lips to the cold hand, she -fancied that there was a slight movement of the fingers; she thought the -eyelids quivered; she pressed her handkerchief over her mouth, afraid -she should cry out. - -“Oh, Arthur! My Arthur! I know that you are gone from me forever, and -this is but a delusive fancy, would it were true, that I might not be so -lonely!” she whispered, gazing mournfully at him. - -The watcher stirred in his sleep, muttering low and indistinctly. Edith -started up in wild affright, her heart beating tumultuously; to her -excited imagination the lights seemed to burn dimly, as though about to -go out. - -The watcher shifted uneasily in his chair, then slept quietly on. - -Edith turned toward her dear dead; she would once more kiss the cold -lips, a last farewell, then return to her room. - -An appalled scream shivered through the gruesome silence. - -The watcher started from his sleep in wild affright, and caught Edith as -she fell fainting. - -Arthur Lombard was sitting upright, staring about with wondering eyes. -Dropping the fainting girl on the nearest sofa, the watcher rang a -hurried peal, and hastily dispatched a servant for a physician. He -tremblingly approached Arthur, shivering as he laid his hand upon his -shoulder; but managed to say soothingly: “Hadn’t you best lie down?” -Arthur looked at him in a bewildered way, seeming not in the least to -understand him. - -Though trembling in every limb, he gently pressed Arthur backward; who -gave a tired sigh, muttered something which the man did not understand, -and instantly sank into a refreshing slumber. - -A moment later the physician hurried in, looked wise, felt his pulse, -tested his temperature, and said, as though the circumstance was of -ordinary occurrence: - -“Suspended animation! He will be all right in a few days; get these -things off him, and get him into bed as gently as possible; do not let a -hint of the preparation for burial reach him; the shock of such -knowledge would in all probability actually kill him.” - -Edith had regained consciousness, and with timid hand touched his -sleeve. “You think that he will recover?” - -“Certainly! Certainly, Miss Herford! I see nothing to prevent it.” - -“But he looked and acted so strangely,” said Edith tremblingly. - -“No doubt! No doubt! So would you or I, placed in the same -circumstances. There, there! Run along to bed, I’ll stay here the rest -of the night, and see that he is all right,” gently pushing her through -the door as he ceased speaking. - -The next morning Arthur awoke feeling comfortably well, but very weak. -The physician was sitting beside the bed when he opened his eyes; Arthur -regarded him curiously, a puzzled look overspreading his countenance as -his gaze wandered about the room. He murmured something strange; -receiving no reply, he said slowly, like a child just beginning to talk: -“Where am I?” - -“In your own bed, of course; where should you be?” - -He lay quiet, looking around curiously, as though everything were new to -him. “Why am I here?” still with the same hesitation, as though not -certain as to the meaning of his words. - -“Where in the mischief would you wish, or expect to be, if not in your -own home?” answered the doctor a trifle impatiently. - -He looked troubled but asked no more questions; presently he lifted his -long, white hand, adorned with a handsome ring, and examined it as -though he had never before seen it; he seemed strangely unable to -express his feelings. - -“Jove!” said the doctor later, “I wonder if the fellow has lost his -wits! It is a pity if so, for he was one of the shrewdest of men, and a -sharp financier.” - -If Edith hovered about him, or caressed him with gentle touch, or called -him fond names, he looked at her in surprise, and gave not the slightest -return. - -She would look at him in grieved surprise, and on one occasion asked him -with trembling lips: “Do you no longer love me, Arthur?” - -“Love you? I—guess—so! I do not know what you mean!” looking helplessly -at her. - -She burst into tears which were quickly suppressed as she coldly left -the room. From that time she offered him no caresses, but he seemed not -to notice the omission. - -As Edith left the room in anger he looked after her, his brow wrinkled -in perplexity. - -He was certainly in a strange condition; he appeared to enjoy his meals; -he slept well; but he seemed to take no interest in anything more than -that—he did not seem to understand that there was anything in which he -ought to take an interest. - -One day, as he sat languidly looking out of the window, Gus said to him: -“You will soon be well enough to attend to business!” - -“What business?” he asked vacantly. - -“Why, your banking business of course!” answered Gus in a tone of -disgust; he thought his brother must be making a pretence of not -understanding. Arthur looked at him blankly but made no reply. - -Edith asked the physician: “What do you think of him? Is he insane?” - -“No! Neither insane nor idiotic, mental shock! He will recover, he is -like a child with everything to learn.” - -It is hard to tell what were Arthur’s sensations; everything seemed so -strange. He was told that these were his rooms; he had no recollection -of ever having seen them until the morning when he opened his eyes on -the physician’s face. Even the language sounded strange to him, though -in a hazy way he knew what was meant; it was as though the sounds had -been imprinted upon the brain by some other intelligence; as a picture -is sensitized upon the plate by one artist for another artist’s use. The -business so often mentioned to him, seemed like a hazy dream; something -of which some other person being cognizant, had conveyed to him in a -far-off manner, an impression of his knowledge. In the same way he knew -that he was expected to love Edith; but there was a vague, elusive -intuition of some actual affinity, a feeling which he could not shake -off, and by which he knew that whatever of feeling he possessed for -Edith was as the shadow to the real. This hazy something, which was not -knowledge, nor yet a dream, strained his mental capacity in a vain -effort after solution. He restlessly tried to gather up the threads of -that which seemed to him a new life. - -As Gus was vice-president of the bank everything went on smoothly; but -he felt greatly annoyed at Arthur’s complete indifference when he wished -to consult with him upon important business: - -“You just manage everything, Gus, until I feel more like business.” - -“You will have to pull yourself together, old man;” answered Gus, -regarding him with troubled gaze. - -No sooner had Gus left the room than all signs of languidness -disappeared; he muttered angrily to himself; he paced up and down the -floor; he tore the books from the shelves in frantic desire for -something which would enlighten him on these things which seemed so hazy -and bewildering; he threw the book he was holding from him in an excess -of rage. Letters and words had a strangely familiar look, and yet—the -mental strain was fearful—it was like hunting for faces whose lineaments -were long since forgotten; like trying to decipher a faded picture -imprinted in dim ink by some person unknown; and feeling, withal, that a -perfect understanding of the dim lights and shadows was expected. - -That which gave him a still more restless pain was that other -tantalizing consciousness which eluded him, though almost touching his -memory. Every hour when alone was feverishly employed in trying to -recall that which seemed to him like a lost treasure. He listened to -every scrap of conversation, he watched the expression of every face, -the gestures of every person. A sentence which puzzled him he would -repeat over and over again, until he had fixed it firmly in his mind; -then the full meaning was hunted out as soon as he was alone. - -Edith often looked at him in wondering surprise; he seemed not in the -least like the man whom she had loved; it is true the features were the -same, but—where was the cultivated ease of manner, where the grace which -had been so attractive; the clear, open expression of countenance which -had distinguished the man she loved above his fellows? This -discontented, rebellious soul looked out from under frowning brows; the -brilliant blue eyes had a wary, suspicious look; the movements were -awkward, the speech uncouth. - -“Oh, Gus, how changed he is!” cried Edith. - -“Yes, I scarcely know what to do; if one could but wake him in some -way!” said Gus, sadly. - -A year or more passed by; as he regained strength he developed strange -desires; he absented himself from home for days together. - -Edith remonstrated: “Why do you do so, Arthur?” - -He answered her coarsely, like an undisciplined youth: “I do not think I -need a keeper!” - -Edith burst into tears: “I did not mean that; but you know—that—that—I -am lonely when you are away,” she faltered. - -A half-frightened look passed over his face, and was gone instantly, to -be succeeded by a perplexed scowl. - -“You act as though you owned me!” he said brutally. - -Edith regarded him in pained surprise: “Arthur!” The single word -expressed much. - -He left the house, slamming the door after himself. - -He began about this time assuming control of the business; things seemed -to go wrong from that hour, and he appeared to have lost all judgment; -heavy losses followed in rapid succession. He angrily resented advice, -and Gus became so annoyed that he took him to task. - -“See here, old man! You are going it a bit wild—you had best check up!” - -Arthur’s moody eyes lit up with an angry flame: “Any person would think -that you had the whole say so,” he sneered. - -“You know, Arthur, that I have no wish to control, except for the mutual -good. Great heaven, Arthur! You are ruining us!” cried Gus, aggravated -into speaking his mind. - -Arthur looked moodily down, and like a child caught in some misdemeanor, -grumbled out: “Any person is liable to make a mistake.” - -Gus looked at him curiously: “I’ve a great notion to pull out; I do not -propose getting caught under the wreck when the crash comes,” said he -angrily. - -“Oh, well, get some one to do the work in my place, if you feel so -terribly worried,” quite as angrily retorted Arthur. - -A couple of weeks later Gus did put another man into the office; Arthur -seemed rather relieved than otherwise. - -Gus was talking to Edith a few days later; they had been speaking of -Arthur, and incidentally of Wilbur the new man: - -“He seems to understand his business; he has a way of going at it, as -though he had been in that office all his life; actually, as he sank -into that big, green chair, he sighed with satisfaction.” - -“Tell me how he looks,” said Edith. - -“Oh, tall and muscular; his hair is as black as the proverbial crow’s -wing; the most piercing black eyes that I ever saw; his looks are rather -fierce and brigandish, but his manner is most gentle and courteous; his -voice is very sweet, the words and tones of a cultured man.” - -“You make me very curious to see him,” answered Edith. - -“He interests me strangely; it seems as though I had known him at some -former time, but I cannot place him.” - -“How does Arthur take it?” - -“That is strangest of all; he glowers at him as though he hated him -mortally; yet he obeys every suggestion of Wilbur’s as though he were -afraid of him.” - -Edith did not reply; she was conscious of a feeling of repulsion toward -Arthur, which had been growing in force for the last year; she no longer -had the slightest affection for him; if he laid his hand upon her -shoulder, even his near proximity would send a shudder through her whole -being. She felt ashamed and guilty that such was the case, and tried to -conceal the fact. A feverish longing possessed her to see Wilbur; she -was also ashamed of this feeling, and mentally took herself to task for -the unmaidenly desire. - -As to Arthur, everything worried him; he was restless and unhappy; he -seemed to have no care as to the success of the business; instead, he -burned with a wild desire to throw the money away; anything, any way, so -as to be free from care and thought. He had a passionate wish to roam, -to get away from the haunts of men into the green woods; to lie on his -back and look up at the blue skies, listening to the rustle of the -leaves; it smoothed the frown from his moody brow, and seemed to bring -that floating affinity nearer his mental vision; at times it came so -near that with a cry he would start up and fling his arms wide with a -hoarse cry of mad impotence, as it faded delusively. He hated the -conventionalities of society; he longed to do something _outré_, to -shock those with whom he came into contact out of their calm; he looked -with hatred upon all the refinements of life, as so many limitations, so -many bars to personal enjoyment. - -Through all the fierce rebellion ran a hazy admonition: “You ought to -like these things, it is expected of you; your position requires it.” -Accompanying these thoughts like a weird shadow was that intangible—what -was it? A delusion, a dream, or the shadow of a memory? - -A few days after Wilbur came, Gus one evening invited him to go home -with them: “I wish to introduce you to Arthur’s ward, Edith,” he said. - -“Edith! Edith!” said Wilbur dreamily; “I seem to see her—tall, fair—with -the purity of the lily—” He paused, passing his hand over his brow, with -a deep sigh. - -Gus stared at him in amazement; “Do you know her?” he asked brusquely. - -“No! no! I have sometimes dreamed of her, I think; I cannot recall what -it is—” again he sighed deeply; he appeared like one awakening from -sleep. - -Arthur looked at him, his brows bent moodily. - -Gus said nothing, but thought to himself; “Well, here is a pair of -them!” As they were walking slowly homeward, through the level glow of -the sunset, a woman brushed past them; she lifted her face to look at -Wilbur, a look in which hate mingled strangely with love. Her eyes were -like midnight, but a midnight lighted by a reddish glow, the reflection -of the fires within; inky black brows, and hair of the same shade -falling low on a forehead as colorless as marble. A face to glow with -the fiercest abandonment of love, or burn with the seething fires of -hate; her form was of voluptuous beauty, a something strange and foreign -in the _ensemble_. - -Arthur stopped abruptly, giving vent to a strange, fierce cry: - -“Andalusia! Andalusia!” The sound was like the voice of one in anguish. -She swept him a burning glance, to which he replied in a strange -language, gesticulating rapidly; with a look of wild amazement she -passed on, and was lost to sight around a street corner. - -Gus looked his displeasure: “I would not stop to talk with one of that -kind on the street; who is she?” - -Arthur looked at him as though he did not understand, but when the -question was repeated, he replied absently: - -“No; no; I must have been mistaken!” - -Gus of course thought that he was telling an untruth; he judged her some -disreputable woman of Arthur’s acquaintance. “Oh, it is all right, I do -not blame you for being ashamed of it!” he answered sarcastically. - -Arthur shot him a look of hatred from under moody brows, but made no -reply. Wilbur seemed feverishly eager to reach their destination, and in -preoccupied thought had hurried forward until he was considerably in -advance of the others, consequently observed nothing. - -When Gus introduced Wilbur to Edith, he blushed and stammered awkwardly; -she was no less embarrassed. Throughout the whole evening Wilbur -scarcely took his eyes from her face; once, inadvertently, he called her -Edith; she blushed furiously, and Gus gave him a look of displeasure, -which he did not observe. - -Later in the evening Gus said to her: “I do not like Wilbur’s -familiarity on so short an acquaintance.” - -Edith hesitated a moment before answering: “I do not think it was -intentional, Gus, doesn’t he remind you of some other person?” - -“Yes; but I can never say who it is.” - -They turned to look at him, as he sat talking to Arthur; the contrast -between the two was very marked. Arthur was slouchingly leaning over the -table; his carelessness of attire, an indefinable coarseness of look and -action, contrasted most unfavorably with Wilbur’s refined manner, the -neatness of his person, and the high thought written in characters -unmistakable upon his countenance; yet the features of Arthur were far -more regular, his physique finer. - -Edith sighed. Gus answered her thought. - -“Yes; he has changed awfully; I doubt his ever being quite himself -again.” - -“He seems an entirely different person; Mr. Wilbur is much more as -Arthur used to be than Arthur himself.” - -Gus started in amazement: “By Jove! That is so! Ever since he came it -has puzzled me to know who he was like.” - -They had been busying themselves over the tea things as they talked, and -now brought them forward. As they sipped their tea Gus endeavored to -lead the conversation toward Wilbur’s former life, but he plainly evaded -the subject. Arthur the whole evening sat moodily gnawing his mustache, -or paced the floor restlessly. It was late when Wilbur took his -departure. - -For a long time Gus could hear Arthur moving about his room, but at last -he sank into dreamy slumber, in which Arthur and Wilbur were strangely -intermingled, once starting up wide awake as he fancied he heard the -hall door close. He lay a few minutes with every nerve quivering, afraid -of—he knew not what; then took himself to task for being so foolish, and -again dropped off to sleep. - -Arthur did not appear in the morning; but his course was so erratic that -this occasioned no surprise; but when a week, two weeks went by without -his return, Gus began to be seriously alarmed. - -Wilbur proved a treasure; everything went on in the most methodical -manner; he seemed to understand every detail of the business; to know -where papers and records were kept, of which others had no knowledge; -moreover he seemed to enjoy his work. - -The residence also, seemed strangely familiar to him; on more than one -occasion he surprised them by mentioning articles placed in rooms of -which he was supposed to know nothing. - -One evening Gus asked him: “Were you ever in that room?” - -Wilbur looked bewildered: “I think not—I do not know,” he said slowly. - -“If not, how do you know where that picture is placed, and the subject -of the painting?” - -They had been talking of the works of a certain master, and Wilbur -mentioned a painting which hung in Arthur’s room. - -He rested his head upon his hand in an attitude familiar to both; “I do -not know; I seem to see it, that is all that I can tell you,” he -answered in a sad tone. - -Gus looked at Edith questioningly; she did not notice him, her eyes were -fixed upon Wilbur. - -The next morning as they were sitting down to breakfast, Arthur -returned. Edith and Gus rose to their feet, simultaneously; he was -dirty, and disheveled, his clothing tattered and soiled; he had the look -of a tramp. “Well! You are a sight, and no mistake! Where have you -been?” said Gus laughingly. - -His appearance was really ludicrous; he tried to pass it off lightly, -but a heavy frown belied his flippant manner. - -“Who made you your brother’s keeper?” - -“Really, I do not know who appointed me, but you look as though you were -in need of some person to fill that position,” retorted Gus. - -Half defiantly he replied: “With your kind permission, I’ll take some -breakfast,” tossing his hat on the floor, as he seated himself at the -table. - -Edith had not spoken, but looked at him in amazement and aversion. Gus -laughed derisively: “I say, aren’t you forgetting something, old -fellow?” laying his hand affectionately on his shoulder. - -“What’s wrong, now?” looking scowlingly at him. - -Gus made no reply in words, but looked significantly at his grimy hands; -he frowned still more angrily; jerked himself out of his chair, and went -to his room muttering: “Confounded bore! Mind his own business!” like an -untrained, overgrown boy. - -Edith could scarcely restrain her tears. “Is it not horrible?” she said -with quivering lips. - -“Yes it is, but we must overlook it as much as possible; he is to be -pitied; he has never been quite right since—” he paused significantly. - -“I know! But Gus, it makes me shudder to think of fulfilling my -engagement to him; I just cannot—” she paused, a burning blush spreading -over her face; she had never before spoken of it to Gus. - -He sat thoughtfully toying with his fork for a few minutes: - -“Do you think that he wishes it?” - -“No, I do not; he never offers me the slightest token of affection, for -which I am indeed grateful; truly, I do not believe that he ever thinks -of it.” She laughed in an embarrassed manner. - -“Taking it altogether, Wilbur, Arthur, and—ourselves, it’s a queer -business.” - -Edith flushed a fiery red; but if she intended an answer, which is -doubtful, Arthur’s returning step put an end to the conversation. He at -once seated himself at the table, and ate like one famished. A few -evenings later Wilbur again came to dinner with Arthur and Gus. The air -was very warm and pleasant, and after dinner they all went into the -sitting room; the windows opened down to the floor, and were flung wide -to admit the sweet, fresh evening air; a long vine-draped porch ran -along the whole front of the house. - -“Do not have lights, they call the insects, and it is much pleasanter to -sit on the porch,” said Edith. - -Seated there, a strange silence fell over them; the full moon rode -through the sky like a stately silver ship; a faint breeze stirred the -leaves on the vines, and cast fitful arabesques on the floor; a cricket -chirped lonesomely in the grass; dark shadows lay weirdly across the -winding walks. Wilbur sat close to Edith, the shadows half enveloping -them; in their concealment his hand had sought hers, and clasped it -fondly. Arthur sat at the far end of the porch, in the densest gloom; -only the fiery tip of his cigar betraying his presence. Gus lay -stretched on a wooden settee, his eyes fixed dreamily on a few light, -fleecy clouds showing through a break in the vines. - -There was a faint rustling sound just where the foliage grew the most -dense; the leaves were cautiously parted, and a pallid, vengeful face -looked through. The intruder seemed as much surprised as were the group -seated there; she had evidently expected to find the porch untenanted, -and the sight revealed seemed to drive her to a frenzy of madness; a ray -of moonlight fell upon the clasped hands of Edith and Wilbur, also -showing the look of devotion upon Wilbur’s face, as he was bending -toward her in the act of speaking. - -There was a flash, the report of a pistol, intermingled with wild -screams, and a hoarse, strange cry from Arthur: - -“Andalusia! Andalusia!” Then, something wildly, rapidly spoken in a -strange language; the vengeful, defiant air speedily changing to wonder -and amazement; tones of fierce remonstrance from him, and scornful -disbelief from her; then a word or two of pleading; a light in her eyes -like blazing stars, and obeying his fierce gestures she slipped away -among the winding walks, shadowy trees and shrubbery. - -It has taken some time to tell all this, but the happening was so rapid -that none save Gus saw or heard aught that passed between Arthur and the -strange woman. - -Wilbur was bending over the half-fainting Edith, whispering impassioned -words in her ear, caution thrown to the winds on the near approach of -danger. - -Gus for a moment gazed speechless and motionless, amazed at the fierce -gestures, and the strange language; and when he would have detained the -woman, Arthur angrily threw him backward, saying: “Let her alone! She -made a mistake!” - -“A strange mistake, I take it!” hotly replied Gus. - -“What is the use of raising more disturbance? No one is hurt! She -thought that I was sitting there beside Edith.” - -“Suppose you were? Why should she shoot you? It looks very peculiar!” -said Gus angrily. - -Arthur made no reply, but strode away into the darkness of the -shrubbery. - -Edith and Wilbur had entered the house, and their low tones, agitated -conversation, reached Gus indistinctly as he stood irresolute; he had -sent the servants back to their places, and their frightened tones -reached him faintly; after some seconds’ indecision he plunged off down -the path which Arthur had taken, but no trace of him or the woman could -he find. - -It was fully an hour before he returned to the house, feeling angry that -he was no wiser than when he started; he was the more angry that he did -not know what he expected to find. His astonishment was great to find -Arthur seated in the self same place smoking as though nothing out of -the ordinary had happened. - -“Well, I declare! I have been looking everywhere for you;” he said. - -“Yes! You have found me, now what will you have?” - -It had seemed during the surprise and heat of anger easy enough to ask -him what all this mystery meant; but looking Arthur in the face; -listening to his cool, sneering tones, it was far from easy; so he -hesitated and stammered out: “I don’t understand this business at all.” - -Arthur broke in: “My dear Gus, neither do I.” - -His tone implied so much more than the words that Gus was effectually -silenced. - -They soon separated for the night; Wilbur had gone home half an hour -before, and Edith had retired to her room, her nerves in a tumult over -the occurrences of the evening; but through all the fright and horror -ran a thrill of sweetness. - -Wilbur had whispered in her ear, as she lay half fainting: “My love! Do -not be frightened; I will protect you!” - -“Who could it be? I _am_ so frightened!” clinging to his hand. - -“It is all past now, dear; I think it must have been some crazy person.” - -For another week things went on much as usual, except that Gus was now -positive that Arthur went out each night at about half-past twelve; not -returning until morning, always haggard and worn, and often in the most -furious mood. Frequently he glared at Wilbur as though he would like to -murder him; but if Wilbur turned, or he knew himself to be observed, his -manner changed completely. He seemed anxious to throw Edith and Wilbur -together; and yet, as they conversed or sat in silent contentment he -would restlessly pace the floor, and finally fling himself out of the -room angrily. - -Of a sudden he changed entirely; he remained at home of nights, went to -the bank early in the morning, and remained until the hour of closing, -seemingly intent upon a thorough understanding of every phase of the -business, but at times showing such a strange forgetfulness—or -ignorance—that Wilbur would pause, and look at him in astonishment. - -It was on Wednesday, there were papers missing, relating to some -securities; Gus and Arthur had been vainly seeking them all the morning; -finally Gus went over to Wilbur’s desk and asked, more because he was -vexed and at a loss as to what to do, than for any other reason: - -“Wilbur, do you know anything about those securities?” mentioning the -particular ones he wished. - -Without even pausing in his work Wilbur replied, naming the number of -the drawer in the security vault where he would find them. - -Gus made him no reply, but sought the drawer described, and returned -with the papers. - -He walked up to Wilbur, followed by Arthur: - -“Will you explain to me _how_ you knew where those securities were? -After you told where they were, I remember placing them there; and I -know that they have not been removed for over a year, long before you -came here—” he paused significantly. - -Wilbur looked up from his work in complete bewilderment: - -“I do not know _how_ I know it, but it is all clear to me; the moment -you mention a thing I seem to see it, and a long-stored knowledge seems -instantly to step forth. I seem to know every crevice in these stones; -every bolt, bar and drawer; but how I gained that knowledge I can not -tell, because—I do not know.” - -As he talked he was gazing straight before him, with a strange, unseeing -look. - -“It is not so strange that you have the knowledge—it is easy to get, if -one pokes his nose into everything; but it is hard to understand why I -cannot remember anything concerning the business,” said Arthur -disagreeably. - -“It is no use quarreling!” said Gus, but it was evident that he was both -puzzled and annoyed. - -That night Gus again heard Arthur stealthily leaving the house, and he -did not return until noon of the next day. He remained at the bank from -that time until after the hour for closing, remarking that he had -correspondence which he wished to finish; having completed it, he called -the watchman and sent him to post the letters, saying that he would -remain on watch until his return; as soon as he came back, Arthur went -home. - -He seemed moody and distrait all the evening, and several times Gus -caught him glaring at Wilbur with the unmistakable light of hatred in -his eyes. Wilbur spent nearly all of his evenings with Edith, and made -no secret of his devotion to her. Gus was puzzled to account for -Arthur’s manner toward Wilbur; that he hated him was very evident, but -it certainly was not from jealousy, as he showed not the slightest love -for Edith; on the contrary, he appeared actually to dislike and avoid -her. Several times during the evening he sank into such gloomy -abstraction as not to notice when he was addressed; at an early hour he -left the parlor and went to his room, with not even an excuse or a -good-night. - -Edith looked pained, but Gus was too outspoken to keep silence: - -“I do believe that Arthur is going insane; I never saw such a change in -any one!” - -He was again absent the next morning; but he was away so frequently that -no one even spoke of it; but when a week passed without his return Gus -began to be vaguely alarmed and suspicious; the reason for the latter -feeling being that Arthur had drawn large sums of money on his personal -check within the previous week. Only the day before this last departure -he had taken out several thousand dollars. - -On his way to his sleeping room that night, Gus, from some impulse -unexplainable, tried the door of Arthur’s room. He did not know what he -expected to discover, he was simply uneasy. - -To his surprise he found the door unlocked; heretofore Arthur had been -more than careful to keep his privacy secure. Gus entered and turned on -the light, everything seemed as usual; he opened the door of the -wardrobe, and looked within, it gave him a start to find it empty. Gus -turned giddy; had his prediction come true? A prophecy which was born of -vexation, instead of insight. Arthur had taken away all of his clothing; -no interpretation could be put upon that action, but that he intended to -abandon his home; but why should he do so, unless mentally unbalanced? - -As he turned to extinguish the light he saw, placed conspicuously on the -dresser, a letter; trembling with undefinable fear he caught it up; -without address it abruptly commenced: - - -“When you find this I shall be far away. I have taken five thousand -dollars in cash and the diamonds which were in my safe-deposit drawer, -which amount to twenty thousand more. The balance of the money and the -real estate I have turned over to Wilbur; I hate him, but he has a right -to the property. - -“You do not understand, and will wonder; I will explain. - -“You remember the time when, to all appearances, Arthur Lombard dropped -dead; amid great, apparent grief, and much excitement he was carried to -this house where he lay silent and motionless for three days. - -“At the same instant in which he fell in his elegantly appointed office, -almost in the same manner, fell Antoni Petronelli, one of a band of -roving gypsies, who dwelt in a fair southern country, with no covering -save the waving arms of the forest trees, or at most a house of boughs -for shelter at night or in storm. As Edith and Gus mourned over Arthur -Lombard, so Andalusia Varana mourned over Antoni—yet not the same—the -cool blood of your race cannot realize the fierce love and desperate -grief of the untrammeled children of the South. - -“At the very instant that Arthur Lombard awoke to life again, that same -instant arose as one from the dead, Antoni Petronelli. - -“Now comes the really strange, and tragic part of the story. When these -two souls were loosed from the body and entered space, they drifted -without knowledge of their destination; but that an intelligent power -directed them is proved by this; although so far apart, the soul of -Arthur Lombard sought the body of the gypsy Petronelli; and the spirit -of Petronelli was forced to enter the effeminate body of Arthur Lombard. - -“I can speak only of my own impression; I, the soul of the gypsy, -Petronelli, and the body of the aesthetic banker, Arthur Lombard. When I -regained consciousness I had but a confused mingling of ideas; some -things—impressions, knowledge, thoughts—which had been the property of -Lombard, haunted me; it was as though these things had been photographed -on the brain, to be brought forth and used by the occupant of the body -as occasion required. I did not understand the use of this knowledge; I -detested the fair-skinned body; I hated the limitations of his -life—which you call refinements; the greatest trial of all was that for -a long time I did not know what I was fighting against. I knew only that -I was miserably unhappy. - -“I hated the soft, cool caresses of Edith; I was tormented with a misty -memory—which I could not drive from my mind—of arms which had encircled -my neck, and had set my being on fire. I hated the reproof in Edith’s -calm eyes, and the low voice which grew so cool as I pushed away her -hands, or answered her roughly; she was offended in such a grand, cold -way. My Andalusia would have upbraided me with hot words, uttered in her -shrill, sweet voice; she would have given me blow for blow, then we -should have kissed with fond words, and loved better than ever. I hated -the house with its elegant furnishings, its heavy, hot carpets, and -close, stifling atmosphere. - -“I longed for the cool, leafy woods; for the carpet of green grass. I -felt an insane desire to crush the globes on the incandescent lights, -which parodied the light of the moon; that soft southern moon, which, -with its coterie of stars, looked down upon my bed of boughs while I -slept in that happy time before disaster came. - -“For a long time I could not put these feelings into words, or even into -thoughts; I knew only that these things I hated, and I madly desired to -get away; it was like the restlessness of some caged animal. During all -of this time those teachings which had left their impression upon the -brain matter tortured me, suggesting and urging other thoughts so at -variance with those rebellious feelings that it almost drove me mad. - -“Then when Wilbur came it seemed as though my soul must leap out of the -hateful body which held it in limitation. Instantly I recognized my own, -my hands have many times itched to throttle the usurper of my person, so -that I might seize that which belonged by right to me. Oh, how I hate -this milk-and-water flesh! These soft muscles, and dainty palms! - -“With his coming—Wilbur, by the way, is but an assumed name—it seemed to -give that hazy sense of something gone before, something half -remembered, like a dream of the night—a shock. I concentrated every -effort of my being until scenes from my former life began to float -before my mental vision; dense woods, with leaves of a glossy, dark -green; lilies standing tall and white; a great bay of water reflecting -the blue of a cloudless sky and the green of the trees on its placid -bosom. There was ever the vague shadow of a form which filled my veins -with fire, and my whole soul with longing, but it floated just beyond my -mental grasp. Many a time as I walked under the stars I could have cried -aloud, it seemed so near, and yet—eluded me I could not remain within -the walls of that elegantly furnished room which was called mine; so at -night I wandered far, and lay on the cool, dew wet grass, and strove to -solve the tormenting problems. - -“That evening when Andalusia followed us, I had been more than usually -unsettled and troubled; there was a softness in the atmosphere; a mellow -light shed by the descending sun; a faint, odorous stirring of the warm -wind, which made my brain throb as though it would burst, so suggestive -were all things of that half remembered southern land. When Andalusia -brushed past us, and the light of her eyes entered my soul, the final -knowledge came to me, as had that other; I remembered all, and in a -transport of joy I called out her name. It was well for _him_ that I -cried out—my body would have been a vacant tenement otherwise; but -unless I also was released from this hateful bondage it would have been -useless, as I could not, unless through the same condition which at -first existed, have reclaimed my own. - -“Andalusia sought Wilbur, thinking herself deserted by me; she was mad -with jealousy long before he fled; she frightened him with her ardent -love, and I suppose when angered repelled him by her wild bursts of -passion; his cold nature could not appreciate the tropical love of my -Andalusia. - -“That evening on the street, when I cried out ‘Andalusia,’ she -recognized my voice, but thought it some trick to deceive her; you know -that in our land, and especially among our people, there are many -incredible and wonderful things done to cheat the imagination; but when -I said in Romany, which seemed to drop from my tongue without my will: -“Be at the entrance of the park to-night at twelve; I, your Antoni, will -meet you;” she swept me a burning gaze of wondering doubt, and -disappeared. I met her as I promised, but could not convince her that I -spoke the truth; she scornfully taunted me with the eyes, which she -declared that I had stolen from the summer sky, an open page whereon to -print all my baby passions; she lifted herself to look over my head, and -mock me with her shrill laughter; one thing only consoled me; I knew -when she promised again to meet me, that though she derided, she was not -quite sure. It seemed that Wilbur—Ugh! I cannot call him Petronelli—he -has no right to the name, he stole my body, but—I am I, in spite of it! -Well, he utterly refused her love; he resisted her caresses, and showed -such unmistakable aversion that he drove her wild; she upbraided him -fiercely, and—like a coward—he fled from her. - -“What led him here? Was it the hand of the All Wise, or the homing -instinct implanted in man? He came, and you know how he filled the -place, and how perfectly the place fitted him. - -“For long weeks I failed to convince Andalusia; weeks that were filled -with the madness of despair, with the agony of vain pleading, of being -scorned and taunted with my baby skin, until every time that I looked at -Wilbur, I could scarcely restrain my hands. - -“Andalusia watched his every movement; that night when she fired the -pistol she thought that she had found her rival, and had she been less -angry would have killed her; her emotion, only, rendering her hand -unsteady. - -“I followed her and appointed a place of meeting; at first she would not -listen, but finally consented; saying that old Martini Sistine was with -her, hidden in the shrubbery. I was rejoiced, for old Martini knows much -that is hidden from all the rest of the world; she can talk familiarly -with those who have departed this life; and to her the stars are as an -open book. Martini knew that I spoke the truth, and in trying to -convince Andalusia she also explained much which I had been unable to -grasp. Andalusia at first would hear nothing of it, but cried -scornfully, touching the fair hair as though it were some vile thing, -and prodding my flushed cheek viciously: - -“‘_This_ is not my Antoni!’ Then said Martini severely: - -“Daughter of the South, born in the wild wood among nature’s sweetest -mysteries, do you doubt the first one which touches you? For shame! If -you saw a branch lopped off the tree under which you sat, would you cry -out that this was no longer the same tree? If you should lose your fair -right arm, are you not still Andalusia? If you were bereft of both limbs -and arms, and nothing but the disfigured trunk remained, you would still -be Andalusia. It is the within, which is in reality the personality. -Your Antoni is the same, but he is unfortunate in having to bear this -effeminate body; have you no pity for his misfortune?” - -“Then my Andalusia wept on my neck, and begged forgiveness for all her -unkind words; and though she cried continually: ‘Poor Antoni!’ I was so -happy that for a time I forgot all about my hateful body. - -“We are going to our own land; Martini, my Andalusia and I. Wilbur can -take the cool-blooded Edith and welcome; their placid imitation of love -is like ice to fire as compared to the glorious tumult of passion which -swells in the hearts of the unfettered children of the free wild wood. - -“I have taken this money and the diamonds, yet—I am no thief! That -portion of myself, known to the sight as Arthur Lombard—the hateful -body, thrust upon me without my consent—I am compelled to retain against -my will; that body has a right to maintenance, and I have taken of -Arthur Lombard’s money to care for it. I have left the balance to the -soul of Arthur Lombard; and as a last request, I ask him to be kind to -the body of poor, cheated Antoni Petronelli.” - - - - - LIMITATIONS. - - -A brown faced, tangle-haired, barefooted little girl; a long country -road, its yellow clay beaten into powder, which rose with every gust of -wind into whirling eddies, and spitefully enveloped each passer-by in a -grimy cloak, and followed after each vehicle like an abhorrent specter. -Long rows of maple cast their cool shadows from either side; raspberries -and blackberries grew in the corners of the old rail fence; a narrow -footpath cut like a yellow thread into the thick green sod; here and -there a sweet-william held up its fragrant head; and in the field beyond -the long rows of corn rustled their broad leaves, and murmured together. - -Thella swung her sunbonnet by the strings, and gave a little -hop-skip-and-jump for very joy of living. She stopped instantly, as she -heard, “Thella! Thella!” called in a fretful, rasping tone. - -“Yes’m,” answered she, at the top of a high-pitched, young voice, as she -ran rapidly toward a stout, red-faced woman, who stood leaning over the -top of the gate. - -“I declare to goodness, you make me think of a turkey! It’s no wonder -that you are the ugliest young one living! Look at that mop of hair, and -that slit in your dress!” said she, her voice raised to a shrill scream. - -Thella dropped her head, and drew her black brows together sullenly. -“Why don’t you put that sunbonnet on your head? Oh, drat you, get out of -my sight, you little imp!” - -Thella had been digging one brown toe in the dust, but at the conclusion -of the tirade she darted past the woman, dextrously dodged a blow and -ran into the house. She flew upstairs into the attic; there was a little -square window, draped over with cobwebs; Thella had rubbed the grime off -the lower panes, but she left the cobwebs—she called them her curtains, -and the spiders her little lace makers. From out the rubbish she had -long ago hunted a mirror, with a very wavy surface. She crouched on the -floor with her head bowed upon the window-sill, sobbing bitterly; the -most forlorn little thing imaginable. - -Her stepmother’s voice faintly reached her: - -“Thella! Thella! Drat the child! she’d wear the patience out of a -saint!” whether she intended to imply that she was a saint or not, I do -not know. - -Thella only gave a little flout: “You can split your old throat for all -that I care.” - -Anger dried her tears; she softly crept across the loose boards of the -floor, and brought her looking-glass to the window. She sat looking at -herself mournfully; it was not a pretty picture upon which she gazed; a -grimy, tear-stained face, as brown as a coffee-berry, heavy black -eyebrows, arched over a pair of intense gray eyes; the wavy glass had a -trick of elongating the visage which made it very comical; added to -this, her hair hung like a black cloud all about her face. She threw -down the glass in disgust: - -“Thella Armitage, you do look like a little Indian! Oh, what shall I -do?” her chin beginning to quiver again; but presently she rested her -face on her hand, and sat gazing at the fleecy clouds chasing each other -across the sky, and wandered off into dreamland; these were her -soldiers, and the great white cloud with a rose-colored border was her -chariot, and she was going: - -“Thella! Thella Armitage! If you don’t come down here and wash these -dishes I’ll skin you,” called her stepmother, up the stairs. - -“All right, maybe a decent skin would grow on then,” muttered Thella. -She went down into the hot kitchen and washed the dishes; but every -minute she stole a glance at her pretty clouds through the open window. -“What are you gawping at? ’tend to your work,” said Mrs. Armitage -crossly. She did not mean to be actually unkind, but she had no -appreciation of another’s feelings, much less of Thella’s dreamy, poetic -temperament. Thella shot her an angry look, and sullenly went on with -her work, the beauty all taken out of the clouds, her fairylike day -dreams buried in gloom. - -No sooner were the dishes washed than Thella was set to knit her stint; -oh, how she hated that interminable stocking! The rounds seemed endless; -and if she thought about something nice for just one little minute the -stitches would drop and run away down; then Mrs. Armitage would angrily -yank the stocking out of her hand, pull the needles out, and ravel out -all her evening’s work. When at last the hateful task was accomplished, -and the old clock sitting in its little niche in the wall—like a -miniature shrine for the Virgin Mary—rang out its nine slow strokes, she -would run up to the old east chamber where she slept, in an agony of -stifled rage. - -Mrs. Armitage would allow her only a small bit of candle: “You’re not -going to read those good-for-nothing books; you jest go to bed and go to -sleep; I want you to be fit for something in the morning.” - -So she was forced to hurry in between the sheets, after blowing out the -light, often to lie there wakeful; dreaming such lovely, impossible -dreams by the hour. On moonless nights the skurry of a rat, or the -cracking of the old timbers in cold weather, would send little shivers -creeping up and down her back; but when the silvery moon shone in at the -curtainless window she would lie wide-eyed, riding to strange, unheard -of countries on its silver bars. - -One happy day a neighbor loaned her the “Arabian Knights;” she hurried -through her tasks, which were neither short nor easy, and ran joyously -up to the garret; a pane of glass had been broken, and a pewee had flown -in and built her nest in an old basket suspended from the rafters. So -careful was Thella not to frighten the mother bird, that she fearlessly -sat on the window-sill and called to her four little children: “Phebe! -Phebe!” - -Thella rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully: - -“I don’t see how you know them apart if they are all named Phebe,” said -she. - -She was far away in an enchanted land with Alladin, and did not hear -Mrs. Armitage creep up to her; the first intimation she had of her -presence was an awful blow on the ear which made her see stars, and -knocked the book half across the room. - -“You lazy, trifling trollope! I’ll learn you to spend your time reading -such trash. Now you march downstairs, and if you can’t find anything -else to do go out in the garden and weed them onion beds,” saying which -she pounced viciously upon the book. - -“Pa said I need not weed them until the sun went down, and it got -cooler,” faltered Thella. - -“Your father is learnin’ you to be as lazy as he is himself,” snapped -Mrs. Armitage; “you march, now, and no more of your sass.” - -Thella rose and pushed back her heavy hair, preparatory to following -her. - -“Will you please let me put away the book?” she said. - -“I’ll please put it in the fire,” she replied viciously. - -“Oh, no, no! Don’t, it isn’t mine!” she cried frantically as she made a -vain endeavor to reach it. - -Mrs. Armitage gave her another resounding slap: “There, take that, you -little cat!” - -As she commenced descending the stairs Thella darted before her, and -hurriedly ran to the field to her father; she caught hold of his hands -and pulled the hoe away from him. - -“Don’t daughter, ma will be mad if I don’t keep to work,” he said -pathetically. - -“Oh, pa, I’ll hoe in your place; do go and take my book away from her, -she’s going to burn it, and it isn’t mine at all; it’s Willie Burt’s!” -she cried in agitated incoherence. “Oh, hurry, pa! Don’t let her burn -it,” her voice full of tears. He stooped for one instant and laid his -hand caressingly upon her head. - -“Poor little Thella,” he murmured, then walked hurriedly up to the -house. Thella looked after him sorrowfully: - -“Poor pa!” she said, with a quiver in her voice. - -Presently he came slowly back through the broiling sunshine and took the -hoe from her hand. - -“Well?” said Thella interrogatively. - -He shook his head: “’Twasn’t no use, she had it in the stove.” - -“The mean, old thing—” began Thella. - -“Tut-tut; she’s your mother,” said pa gently. - -“She isn’t _my_ mother; my little mother is dead!” She began very hotly, -but ended with choking sobs. - -“I wouldn’t cry, little daughter; we must make the very best of things -when we can’t change them,” he said with a sad resignation more pathetic -by far than tears. He took his old red bandana from his pocket and wiped -the drops from her flushed cheeks, compassionately. - -“Well! You are the shif’lesses pair I ever did see,” said Mrs. Armitage -shrilly. “Thella, if you don’t go at that onion bed I’ll take a strap to -you.” - -Thella gave her a look of bitter hatred, and walked sullenly to her -work. The sun beat down with terrible force; Thella knelt unprotected on -the edge of the bed, and pulled the offending weeds; her father hoed the -long rows of corn steadily, only pausing to wipe away the perspiration -as it trickled down his face. Mrs. Armitage, under the shade of an apple -tree whose boughs bent low with yellow fruit, gossiped with a neighbor. - -“Pa! pa!” called Thella softly, he paused and looked at her. “Can’t I -have an apple? I’m so warm and thirsty.” - -Low as was the call, Mrs. Armitage heard it; “’Tend to your work; you -always want to be chankin’ something. Warm! it’s just nice and -pleasant.” - -Pa dropped his hoe between the long rows, and gathering half a dozen -apples off the tree, called Thella to him: “It is nice and cool here, -under the shade of the tree.” - -He sat on the green bank, and took his little daughter on his knee; he -pushed the thick hair from her warm face; she ate her apple, her head -lying contentedly on her father’s shoulder. Mrs. Armitage went on -gossiping with the neighbor, interspersing her remarks with flings about -“People too lazy to breathe—humoring that good-for-nothing,” etc. If Pa -Armitage heard, he made no sign, beyond pressing his arm a little closer -about Thella’s waist. - -Time went on. Thella was fourteen; her life was a horrible routine—up -before dawn in the winter, and before the sun in summer, to milk and -churn, cook and scrub; no thoughts expressed in her hearing except those -relating to eating, working, and the continuous bad conduct of the -neighbors—this last always sufficient for a whole day’s tirade. In -summer it was not so bad; there were always the whispering trees, and -the fragrant flowers; the green grass, and the busy booming of the -bumble bees; the lowing of the solemn-eyed cows, that came at her call. -Best of all was the walk down the long, shady lane, through the grassy -dell, where, in the limpid brook, the funny crabs crawled backward; and -the saucy, gray squirrel chattered at her from the beech and chestnut -trees on the hillside; still an added joy when “pa” followed his little -girl, telling her of his coming by putting his crooked little finger in -his mouth, and thus whistling shrilly. Fast as her nimble feet could -carry her she ran to him, and nestling her hand in his begged him to -tell her of her very own mamma. Oh, the delightful walks and talks; the -sun hanging low in the west and the soft wind just stirring the leaves; -a little later the softly falling dew, the gathering shadows, a belated -bird hopping from branch to branch with drowsy chirp; a rabbit darting -across the path, causing Thella to glance over her shoulder in quick -affright and cling a little closer to “pa’s” hand at sight of the dark -shadows all around her; then the great red moon lifting his round face -above the treetops, lighting up the openings, and leaving the shadows -darker by contrast. The sweet silence seemed deepened by the shrill cry -of the cicada, and the plaintive call of the whip-poor-will; at last pa -would say, “We must hurry home, we shall get a scolding.” - -Thella would sigh and answer: “Yes, pa, but this is so nice,” with a -loving cuddle closer to his side. - -Well they knew the remark Mrs. Armitage was sure to make about their -“trapezing” all over the fields. - -Not long after this, all through the day Thella had been working very -hard, and in the edge of the evening sat down on the porch to rest. Pa -had just come in from the field looking worn out; Thella’s heart ached -as she looked at him: “Poor pa, you are tired out,” she said. - -“Yes, pretty tired, daughter!” he answered; hearing Mrs. Armitage coming -they said no more. - -She was in a fearful humor; she had quarreled with one of the neighbors, -and seemed to think that the fight extended to her own family. It was -quite dark on the porch, and Thella sat in the shadow so that she did -not observe her. - -“Where is Thella?” she angrily asked of pa, as she came in. - -“Not very far away, I guess,” he answered mildly. - -“Out trapezing somewhere, I suppose! I seen her whispering to that Judd -Tompkins, more’n once; she’ll come to no good, I’ll tell you!” - -“Sho! Sho! What’s the use of bein’ so hard, ma? Didn’t you never talk to -the boys when you was young?” asked pa very mildly. - -“I wish to goodness I’d never seen a pesky man; of all the shif’less, -onery things a man’s the wust; and you’re about the laziest of the whole -bilin’.” - -Pa made no reply, but Thella rose up, white and wrathful; it is not the -great things which rouse us to the depth of feeling, but the continued -pin-pricking; the nag-nagging which drives us to desperation. Thella -could take anything directed against herself; she thought many times -that she had grown so used to it that it did not hurt much, but pa, poor -pa, she could not hear the good patient soul nagged so, without a word -of protest. - -“You just let pa alone! You can abuse me all you like, but you needn’t -misuse him on my account, he is not to blame for my shortcomings;” she -sidled up to him, and clasped his arm with her two hands. - -“Hoity-toity! I’m glad I have your permission to express my feelings to -you, my high-flown miss; and with or without your consent, I’ll say what -I please to your pa—you little trollope, you!” - -She made an angry dive at Thella, who only threw up her arm and warded -off the blow: “You had best not strike me,” she said in a peculiarly -quiet tone. - -“Come away, come away, daughter; don’t quarrel with her. Make the best -of it! We can’t seem to alter things, so let’s make the best of it,” -said the old man tremulously. - -Thella was trembling with anger; she realized that she had made it worse -for pa instead of helping him, and her heart was filled with regret and -bitterness. - -“Pa, you don’t have to endure such abuse; set your foot down and make -her behave herself.” - -“Oh, Thella, I couldn’t! Don’t you see, daughter, that I can’t quarrel -with a woman? Let us take a walk down the lane,” and hand in hand they -went. Nothing further was said on the subject until they turned to go -in; pa drew a long sigh: “I wish your ma had a lived, but I made my -bed—” he broke off abruptly, then continued in a trembling tone, “I -thought I was doing the best for my little girl to give her a new ma—you -see, a man that’s had a good wife is lonely, and beside, he don’t know -just what to do for a little girl—and I thought—I thought—” the old -voice quavered into silence piteously. - -Thella stopped short and laid her hands upon his shoulders -affectionately: “Yes, I know—dear pa, you are so kind; but pa—you are -mistaken—you are not making the best of it; there is no good at all in -this way of living; it’s just slavery for the bite you eat, and a bed to -sleep in—that’s full of thorns; even your food is thrown at you as -though you were a dog, and where are all the books we used to have? One -might as well be a fool, if they can have no use for their brains,” she -ended bitterly. - -“Yes; she’s put all the books away; I’m afraid she’s burned them. Your -ma liked books, Thella; we used to take such comfort reading together, -but Mandy says it makes me lazy—p’raps it does. Mandy is a wonderful -manager, Thella.” - -“Very wonderful! She can make everybody else work while she gossips with -the neighbors,” answered Thella indignantly. - -“Sho, sho! Daughter you mustn’t talk that way! She’s your ma—no, she’s -your stepma, you know. We must make the best of it,” he iterated weakly. -Thella made no reply, though her heart burned hotly; what could she say -to this crushed spirit that would not add to his trouble? - -Before she let him go in she said hesitatingly; “Pa, I am going away; -she is cross to you on my account, and—and—oh, pa, I do want to go to -school; there’s so much that I want to know!” she said breathlessly. - -He stood as though stunned: “What shall I do without you?” he cried -despairingly. - -Thella trembled with excitement; her heart was torn between the desire -to go and the longing to remain; how could she leave her poor, -heartbroken old father? but—she honestly believed that _she_—Thella -never called her anything else if she could avoid it—would be less -unkind to pa, if she were gone. Thella knew very well that a rancorous -jealousy added force to her misuse of him; and—oh, she could not go on -in this way; empty day dreams no longer sufficed her bright -intelligence; she hungered and thirsted for knowledge; he had a vague -understanding of higher and better things than met her everyday sight. -She could no longer keep her eyes earthward; even when she cast them -down for one instant, all things spoke to her of that higher life, and -filled her with unutterable longing. Something of this she tried to tell -pa between her sobs. - -He let his hand wander gently over her crown of hair, as he said, -“Yes—yes, daughter; I know how you feel. I used to have just such -thoughts, and ma—your ma—used to make me feel as though I could see -right up into God’s heart, and I knew—I _knew_—that I could live well -enough to reach Him, sometime, I should if ma hadn’t have died; but -now—I just have to make the best of it,” he finished despondently. - -“But pa, hadn’t you ought to try now—for ma’s sake?” - -“How can I? I never have time even to think. No, no, daughter, I must -just make the best of it,” he reiterated wearily. - -She had no words of comfort that had not in them a sound of mockery, so -she said nothing beyond thanking him for his consent, and as she kissed -him lovingly, she patted his withered cheek with her toil-roughened -palms: “Poor pa! Poor pa! I love you dearly,” she said. - -A tear stole down his furrowed face and wet her hands; he tremblingly -murmured, “God bless my daughter!” - -The next morning Mrs. Armitage screamed in vain to Thella: - -“Drat her, I’ll take a strap to her, if she’s bigger’n the side of a -house.” - -When at last she threw open the door of the poor, bare little chamber, -she found it empty. For once words failed her—she sat down on the stairs -gasping. - -Pa wisely kept out of her way. She missed her servant, but poor pa went -about more silent than ever; it seemed that in one short month he grew -visibly gray and bent; he worked on hopelessly through heat and cold. -The only smile that ever crossed his face was when he received a thick -letter from the village postmaster; he would hide it away in his inside -pocket with trembling hands for fear Mandy would see it; a little spot -of color coming into his thin old cheeks at the thought; at nightfall he -would wander down the lane where he used to walk with Thella, and just -to make believe that she would come to meet him, he would crook his -little finger and whistle shrilly. Oh, the comfort those letters were to -him; after reading them over and over again, he would hide them away in -a hollow log. - -Thella always wrote to him that she was well and happy; she told him -nothing of the hard labor and bitter disappointments she met; her -situation had been assured to her before she left home, but there were -many things that were hard to bear; not the least of which was a -terrible homesickness. Then, too, when she came to go to school, she -found that others of the same age were far in advance of her in their -studies, and consequently looked down upon her. Patient effort at last -brought success; by this time her homesick feeling had worn away; she -still longed to see her father, but had ever the hope before her of a -home in which “pa” should have the warmest corner in winter and the -brightest window when he wished it. - -Later on she wrote that she was teaching; pa whispered it softly to -himself: “My Thella is a schoolmam!” Such innocent pride as pa took in -the fact. - -After four years she wrote to him that she was married. - -“Married! My little girl, married!” His old face puckered up queerly; he -did not know whether to laugh or cry. She wrote that she was very happy. -After that the burden of every letter was, “Pa, do come and see me.” - -Sitting by the fire one evening, late in the fall, pa said, “Mandy, I am -going to Adairville to-morrow.” - -“I should like to know if you are possessed, you’ll do no such thing! -What do you want to go there for?” - -“I want to see Thella; it’s a long time since I seen her!” -deprecatingly. - -“Well, you won’t go trapezing after her; she run away, and you’ll not -follow her.” - -“She’s my child, you hadn’t ought to be so hard, Mandy,” quavered the -old man. - -“Well, you’ll not go, I tell you! you ain’t goin’ to spend no money -running after that trollope!” answered she. - -Pa sighed, but said no more; he had submitted to her rule so long that -the thought of opposition did not occur to him; his shoulder seemed to -bend as if beneath a heavy load; his gray head drooped lower and lower; -a heavy tear or two followed the deep furrows down his cheek. - -The next morning he seemed scarcely able to stir, and though her wrath -enveloped him all day he seemed not to mind; he appeared like one in a -dream. - -When chore-time came again, she said sharply, “Ain’t you goin’ to get -them cows to-night? you act as though your wits was wool-gatherin’—or -like a tarnal fool!” - -“Mandy, I’ve always did the best I could!” he said quaveringly, as he -turned away. - -“It’s poor enough, the Lord knows,” snapped she. - -When pa reached the entrance to the lane he stood lost in thought for -several minutes—he had forgotten all about the cows—suddenly he -straightened up: “I’ve a good mind to do it! I vum, I will!” he laughed -outright—a cracked, cackling laugh, that had a pitiful sound; his weak, -watery eyes began to glisten; this time instead of whistling once, he -whistled twice shrilly. - -“Daughter, I’m coming; your old pa’s coming!” he cried gleefully. - -He sat down on the hollow log where he kept his letters; he took them -out, handling them over fondly; from the last one received he drew out a -bill; he spelled the letter out laboriously: - - -“DEAR PA: Here is a little money to get you a suit of new clothes; and -in my next letter I will send you enough for your fare, for, dear pa, I -must see you.” - - -He laid the letter on his knee, smoothing it caressingly. - -“Yes, daughter, so you shall; I couldn’t never wait ’till I got another -letter; so I will go just as far as this money’ll carry me and I’ll walk -the rest of the way. Lord! What’ll Mandy say?” - -Poor pa did not know as much about traveling as do some children, so he -had very little idea of his undertaking. - -Two weeks later Thella was one afternoon sitting in her pleasant room. -The postman had just passed, which set her to wondering why she did not -hear from pa; she ever had the dread before her that his burden would -become greater than he could bear, and that she would see him no more. A -servant came hurriedly into the room: - -“Mrs. Webster, there is an old man at the door who insists upon seeing -you; I think he is crazy, he acts so queer.” - -“Where is he?” asked Thella, rising. - -“At the front door, where he has no business to be, of course! Oh, he -said tell you that his name is Armitage——” - -“Oh, it is pa—it’s pa!” cried Thella, wildly oblivious that she had -nearly thrown the astonished girl over. - -She seized the toilworn hands of the forlorn-looking old man; she threw -her arms around his sunburned neck, and hugged him ecstatically; she -fairly dragged him into the room, so great was her excited joy; she -pulled forward the easiest chair, and playfully pushed him into it; she -patted his hands, and kissed his snowy, straggling hair; she had no -words to express her joy, grief, and surprise, except to say over and -over again, “Poor pa! Poor pa! Oh, I am so glad to see you!” - -He looked at her with dim old eyes, his shaking hand held in hers; “Is -this pretty lady my little daughter?” he asked with a happy laugh. - -“Oh, you awful flatterer,” cried Thella gayly. - -Pa leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction: “This chair is -awful comfortable,” he closed his eyes wearily. - -“You are tired, pa, and I do not let you rest!” she said with quick -compunction. - -“Yes, I am tired; it was a long walk. Mandy wouldn’t let me come, so I -ran away; I wouldn’t quarrel with her, so I had to make the best of it.” - -“Walk! Did you walk?” - -“’Most a hundred miles; it took me a long spell, but I’m glad I come. -When I shut my eyes it seems as though I’m talking to your ma; your -voice sounds just as hers did.” - -The next morning when Thella went to call him to breakfast, he lay -babbling of the green lane and Thella, his little girl; occasionally -crying out piteously, “Don’t be so hard, Mandy; she’s only a little -girl!” Then again, tears would course down his worn cheeks: “Oh, if ma -had only lived!” Another time: “Yes, daughter; it is hard to bear, but -we must make the best of it.” - -It was a whole month later, and pa was lying back in an invalid chair, -his head propped with soft cushions, his old face looking very placid. -“What a sight of nice books you have, daughter; it would be a pleasure -to stay here all my life!” - -“That’s just what you are going to do, pa.” “Oh, I can’t! You know how -Mandy will scold, but I’m goin’ to take all the comfort I can, while I -do stay.” - -Thella leaned over him, smoothing his thin, gray hair as though he were -a child, a wistful tenderness in her tone: - -“Mandy’ll never scold you again, pa.” - -Pa sat upright, a fitful color coming into his thin cheeks: “What do you -mean? Has—something—” stammered he, nervously. - -“There, pa, don’t fret; yes, Mandy is—dead;” caressing the hand she held -tenderly. “She took a severe cold, and was sick only three or four -days.” A tear coursed down his cheek: - -“Poor Mandy! Perhaps she didn’t mean to be so hard; we mustn’t judge for -others, must we, now?” he questioned tremulously. - -He sat silent for a long time, at last he said, “You’ve everything nice -here, and the best man that ever lived; you’ve learned so many things—I -don’t ’spose you would care to walk in the old lane where my _little_ -girl and I used to walk; but I should like to see it once more, and then -I’d be content to stay with you the rest of my days.” - -Thella gave his hand a loving little pat: “Just hurry up and get well, -and we will go and make believe that it is old times once more.” - -It was months before pa was able to go, but at last they walked down the -lane in the sweet June twilight; as of old, “bob-white” whistled to his -shy brown mate; and the gray rabbit lifted his long ears inquiringly, -exactly as in the past; the yellow buttercups laughed up amid the short, -sweet grass just the same, and yet Thella felt a depressing sadness, and -pa sighed sorrowfully: “One kind of gets used to things, Thella—no need -to hurry home now, is there? It makes me sorry and lonesome.” Thella -pressed his arm sympathetically, and they silently walked up the lane, -past the cows, ruminatively chewing their cud; past the flock of -chickens, with their many bickerings, as they sought their roost; past -the silent house and into the street, closing the gate softly and -reverently behind them, even as they closed the door of the past life. - - - - - A TALE OF TWO PICTURES. - - -It is a question open to discussion whether it is a blessing to be born -with a highly sensitive organization, an artistic taste—and poverty. - -The reverse was the opinion of Philip Aultman. Life seemed a failure, -every venture foredoomed; and this sunny June morning, when all nature -seemed to give the lie to evil prognostications, he sat in his room with -the curtains of his soul pulled down, brooding over his misfortunes, not -once considering that he was in fault. A maple grew just outside the -window, and a little branch tapped on the uplifted sash coaxingly; the -soft wind whispered through its branches, and entering lifted his curly -brown locks shyly; a bluebird tilted its bright head, and swelled its -throat in song of enticement; he lifted his face from the melancholy -arch of his arms, and said as if in answer to the appeal: “I _will_ go -out, this is of no use! Anything is better than staying within brooding -over my trouble!” - -As he wandered about the sweet wind seemed to blow away much of his -despondency, although he still smarted with indignation against fate. -Yet—what is fate? The evil we bring upon ourselves. We clasp our hands -above our heads, prostrate ourselves with our foreheads in the dust, and -say with the devout Oriental: “Kismet!” Thus we are absolved from all -blame. - -Philip had been poor all his life; not miserably indigent, though many -things which go to make life comfortable were lacking. He had inherited -a taste for art from his father; hard work had been the rule of his -life, and as a result he was a very creditable artist, though not by any -means entering into the soul of the work. It is one thing to paint a -fair picture, to write an acceptable story; it is quite another thing to -put your very self into your work, and endow it with a subtle life which -is past all explaining. - -When he was twenty-five he inherited money—worse for him; he thought -that henceforward life held no need for exertion; as though food and -raiment constitute all for which we should exert ourselves. He fancied -that happiness lay in two things; going to sleep, and letting the -enervating wind of pleasure drift him whithersoever it would; or getting -astride of the billow of self-will, to ride over everything. He did not -find his mistake until slice by slice his inheritance had been cut away -from him, and he looked with astonished gaze upon those who, under the -guise of friendship, had fastened themselves upon him in his prosperity, -and now stared at him with unseeing eyes. He looked upon it as the worst -misfortune which could have befallen him. He was no more shortsighted -than the majority of persons; because a certain condition brings present -discomfort, we rebel against it as being to our great detriment; most -frequently we rebel without reason. The loss was a blessing to him, -against which he railed, beat, and bruised himself. - -Just at this point I take up his history. - -He wandered about the woods all day, sometimes throwing himself on the -grass to look up into the immeasurable depths of the ether; again, idly -throwing pebbles into the flashing water; but during all that sweet, -restful afternoon his soul was awakening from its lethargy; thoughts -which seemed to him a glimpse of the divine, surprised his hitherto -dormant intellectuality; he began to realize that life held -possibilities of which he had never caught a glimpse. - -Evil is but good gone astray; it is the oscillation of the pendulum; -Philip had reached the adverse limit, and the pendulum of its own -momentum was returning to the center of gravity. As deadly nausea is the -precursor of a cleansed stomach, so he felt a thorough disgust with all -the world, which meant to him—as it does to every one of us—the people -with whom he was in daily association; he indignantly compared them to a -flock of geese—all gabble and greed. It is a hard truth, that if we will -submit to be plucked we can soon find all the worst characteristics of -the worst people. He thought savagely that he desired never to see one -of them again. - -He took a small memorandum book from his pocket, and setting down a few -figures ran them over rapidly; he laughed harshly, a sound that held the -threat of a sob: “Six hundred dollars! Well, that is a great showing -from fifty thousand! No wonder the elegant Mabel DeVere gave me the cold -shoulder; she and her kind have no use for a man without money; then -there was that little dancer—she had no further use for the goose after -it was thoroughly plucked, as she took pains to tell me; she was at -least honest. They are all alike, a treacherous, tricky lot!” he -muttered to himself, with moody brow; but he remembered with a pang of -shame that his loving, patient, helpful mother had been like none of -those with whom he had associated, and his shame was that he had sought -such company; it had been of his own choosing; what better was he, that -he should fling at them? He was looking at himself in a new light. - -He tried not to think about it, it made him restless and ashamed; but -such thoughts once aroused will not be quieted; when the light is once -admitted the germ of higher growth will strengthen rapidly. - -“How sweet it would be to live like this,” he said thoughtfully. A -sudden smile lighted the gloom of his face; “Why not? I have my outfit, -and money enough to procure food and shelter whenever I desire it. It is -not so very much that a person needs after all; it is what he fancies -that he needs, and is much better without, that takes the money—and what -his friends require,” he added with a rueful grimace. - -In consequence of this determination, he took a small gripsack, together -with his artist’s materials, and tossed the key of his room to his -landlady, saying nonchalantly, “Take care of my things; I’ll be back -sometime!” - -No person can live near to nature’s heart, can share in her moods, and -drink of her healing waters, and not grow purer in heart, and stronger -spiritually. Philip began to lose the sense of discord, and to -understand, with a feeling of humility, that he had been in fault; it -was well for him to live with himself for awhile, that he might learn -what kind of a man he had really been. - -Toward the close of a cloudless July day he came up a long, grassy, -country lane, to a squat looking farmhouse; he had come across country -many miles, and had found a strange charm in the solitude. He was tired -and hungry, and hailed a sight of the house with pleasure. The whole -place had a wild and deserted look; a few late roses hung their heavy -heads from the unpruned bushes; creepers ran riot over a long, low porch -extending around three sides of the house giving it the appearance of a -mother hen protecting her brood. - -As he assayed to open the rickety gate the tangled morning-glorys seemed -to hold it closed against him as though in warning. A vision of supper -and a bed with cool, sweet-scented sheets had possessed his mind; but as -the gate creaked on its one rusty hinge and he felt the desolation of -the place, a chill went over him and the comforting vision disappeared. - -A hollow, uncanny reverberation was the only answer to his rapping. He -turned the knob, which yielded readily to his touch, but the door swung -slowly on its rusty hinges; stiffly like a person old and tortured with -the rheumatism. He stood undecided, peering in among the shadows of a -long, dimly lighted hall, which extended the whole length of the house, -the doors opening primly on either side along its entire length; plainly -no foot had disturbed the dust on this floor for many a day. As he -stepped within a cloud arose as though in protest; he opened the first -door on the right, and was surprised to find the room furnished; the -low-browed ceiling seemed to frown ominously; the sides were paneled in -dark wood, being alternately the head of an animal and a flower, -exquisite in design and workmanship; but the dark mahogany color added -to the somber effect. A square old-fashioned bedstead stood at the far -corner of the room, its tall spindling posts rising high toward the -ceiling like uplifted hands; on one of these hung a man’s hat. Phil -fancied that he could see the kind of a man who had worn it; an athletic -fellow, not over nice in his dress, judging by its battered look. The -clothing on the bed was pulled awry, as though the occupants had -hurriedly stepped out, without time to arrange the room; an easy-chair -was drawn up before the great, yawning fireplace, in which a few charred -sticks lay across the old-fashioned, brass andirons. On the mantle stood -a brass candlestick, with a half-burned candle in the socket; a pair of -snuffers on a tray at its side; a turkey wing, bound with velvet, lay on -another tray in the corner of the fireplace; just above it hung a pair -of old-fashioned bellows; a short, squat shovel, and a pair of -grotesquely, long legged tongs stood near; the two looking like a lank -old man, and his fat, little wife. Taken altogether, it had a quaint, -old-fashioned look, which told pathetically of mouldering forms, and -days long since dead. - -All other rooms in the house were entirely destitute of furniture. He -soon kindled a fire, and from a little stream which purled through the -garden he filled his tin pot and presently it was singing drowsily. -Hunger made a sauce piquant to his crackers cheese, and fragrant tea; -better relished than all the costly dinners eaten when stomach and -morals both were overburdened. - -The sun was setting in the west amid a glory of gilded clouds; the wind -blew faintly across the level meadow and pasture land; no sound -disturbed the silence; the tinkle of a cowbell, the crowing of a cock, -seemed but to accentuate the peace. - -Phil brought the chair out upon the porch, and sat leaning lazily back, -dreamily regarding his surroundings. How much sweeter this than the -restless, unsatisfying life which he had led! In some occult manner the -quaint old-fashioned house and the peaceful scene brought his mother -before his mind; the saddened quiet, the tinge of sweet loneliness, -seemed like a reflection of her life. A wave of regret swept over him -that he had not been a better son. He remembered that she had saved and -denied herself many comforts that he might receive a fine education, and -study art under the most favorable circumstances. He blushed with shame -to think how ungrateful he had been, and felt glad that the money had -not fallen to him while she yet lived, for he knew that his reckless -course would have grieved her sorely. Heretofore he had consoled himself -with the thought that there were others much worse than he; he began to -understand that comparison did not in the least palliate the offense; he -felt a greater twinge of shame as he thought of some of his past -actions, that thus he had wronged her memory, her teachings, and his -higher self. - -He drifted from regretful thought into slumber. - -It had grown dark; the wind had arisen with the going down of the sun, -and the loose boards were rattling noisily; the vines were swaying to -and fro, but the stars blinked in the darkened vault in a quizzical -manner as he started up in affright. He thought that he felt a hand upon -his shoulder, and that he beheld the shadowy outline of a form within -the room. - -He stood up and shook himself vigorously: “I must have been dreaming; -this wind is uncomfortably cold,” he said, with a shiver. - -He went in, and lighted the candle; he built a fire which leaped and -flared up the broad-mouthed fireplace, throwing jolly, fantastic shadows -over the great room, much more suggestive of the play of elfins than the -gloomy walking of ghosts. He sat drowsily looking into the coals; the -fire had burned low, and the room was in half shadow, with a fitful -lighting up now and then; a cold wind struck him, and he seemed impelled -by some unseen force to look toward the bed; the battered hat appeared -to be rising of its own volition above the tall post, and the face of a -man fitted itself beneath it; a cruel face; the white brow beetling over -deep set, piercing eyes; the jaw massive and square; the lips thin, a -mere line across the resolute face; the whole countenance imbued with a -strange fierce beauty; a man who would allow nothing to stand in the way -of his will. Phil started up with a gasp of terror; he felt suffocated. - -“Great God! Is this place haunted, or have I a bad case of nightmare?” -he exclaimed aloud. - -He could have sworn that he heard a laugh, shrill and blood curdling; -but perhaps it was but the wind among the gnarled apple trees—our -imagination plays us strange tricks, and the furnishings and appearance -of a room have disastrous effect upon our nerves at times. - -He slept but fitfully the whole night, although nothing more occurred to -alarm him, and with the coming of the morning sun he thought it all a -dream. - -After he had his breakfast he took his easel out upon the porch; he felt -ashamed of the wasted hours which lay behind him, and determined to be -more diligent; he placed his board, took his pencil in his hand—and sat -staring straight before him. He sought vainly for an inspiration; his -brain seemed empty, imagination dead. But one object rose before his -mental vision—the face he had seen under the old hat! - -He felt tempted to throw pencils and board in among the weeds. He left -the easel standing, and went for a long walk; while walking his -imagination leaped responsive to his desire; he outlined his work, and -hastened back eager to commence; but as he once more seated himself, the -same tormenting sense of inability assailed him; the same terrifying -face came ever between him and the board. - -With an angry exclamation he commenced sketching; at once he lost all -feeling of uncertainty; he worked feverishly, and line by line the face -grew before him; he seemed inspired by some power other than his own; a -mole in front of the ear, a dimple in the chin, which he did not -remember having seen, grew under his hand. A face of strange beauty, but -from every lineament shone forth a fierce unconquerable nature, and at -last, as the light was fading, he threw down his pencil and stepped back -to look at it; he saw the ghostly counterpart hovering just above it; he -gave utterance to a frightened exclamation; then said angrily: “I’ve -looked so steadily at that thing, that I see double; I’ll take a run and -rest myself.” - -So he carried everything within, and took his way to the lone farmhouse -visible in the distance; he found the place occupied by an elderly -couple. After some desultory talk, he questioned the woman about the old -house and its former occupants; she, nothing averse, told him the -following story: - -The house was built long before her birth, by a strange, foreign looking -man, who, although he appeared to be wealthy, lived the life of a -recluse. He suddenly disappeared, and what became of him no one ever -knew; the estate was finally sold by the courts, and John Hilyer, then a -young man, and just married to pretty, winsome Rachel Drew, bought the -place, and came there to live. - -A year or so later a son was born to them; John Hilyer, Jr. As young -John grew to manhood, he resembled his father in feature and physique; -but had a beauty inherited from his mother. No one ever knew the elder -Hilyer to transgress a law, human or divine—according to his own -estimation of himself. But he ruled his gentle wife as though she were a -child; and he required of John unquestioning obedience—a complete -subjugation of will, not considering that so sturdy a sapling must -possess a growth of its own. He was a hard, selfish man; without -sympathy or understanding for desires, and feelings not possessed by -himself; he was, to himself, the criterion by which to judge all things. -Added to this, he had a mean, miserly way of using religion as a -specious plea for denying others the things conducive to comfort or -pleasure; he stigmatized all such as sinful. - -Young John was of a fiery, almost cruelly persistent turn; where he -loved, he loved fiercely, jealously; where he hated it was with a -violence of passion frightful to contemplate. His father allowed him no -money to spend, and no time for pleasure, or even for recreation, saying -that it was a sinful waste of time. All the love of John’s fierce heart -was poured out upon his mother, and when she laid down her hard burden, -his grief and anger were beyond words, though he cried out to his -father: “You starved her to death! You starved her body of the things -that might have prolonged her life, and her very soul of all -intellectual and spiritual food!” Some little of the truth must have -penetrated the old man’s armor of selfishness, as he turned away without -reply. - -A year later his father died, and so bitter was his feeling against him -that he saw him lowered into his grave without a regret. He was like a -child let loose from restraint; he plunged into all kinds of excess. He -gathered around him a horde of evil companions, who for months made the -old place a pandemonium. John was no fool, and he soon sickened of this -life; and when one of them thought to be witty at the expense of his -mother, and her poor way of living, he grew livid with wrath, and turned -them all out, saying as he closed the door upon them, “Neither you, nor -I, are fit to mention my mother; but you shall not disgrace her room -again!” - -He shut himself up in almost total solitude, with a wild idea of doing -penance for having outraged his mother’s memory. Several months later -one or two of his profligate associates sought him, he promptly shut the -door in their faces, and what he said to them he said in such a manner -that they left him undisturbed in his solitude. Then he disappeared, and -no one knew of his whereabouts for fully a year; even at this time the -house had come to have an evil reputation; people said of it that it was -an unlucky place, but they passed it with a shudder which meant much -more. - -One night in early springtime, a passer-by saw a dim light in the front -room—the others had long since been stripped of the old-fashioned -furniture; the uncanny reputation of the house made him hasten by -without a glance more than he could help. - -The next day the whole country was in commotion. Early in the forenoon -three large vans, loaded with furniture—which in those days was -considered elegant—drove up to the door of the farmhouse. To their -repeated knocking there was no response; one of the teamsters looked in -through the uncurtained window; he gave a horrified cry. In the center -of the room, ghastly and covered with blood, lay the body of John -Hilyer; in his right hand he still grasped the pistol with which he had -slain himself. He had bought the furniture the day before, and ordered -it delivered at the house; he seemed to be in an unusually happy mood. -What cause led to the deed none could conjecture, and during all these -years the old house had kept its secret. Not a person could be induced -to approach the place after dark, as all declared it to be haunted. - -When Philip returned night had fallen, dark and solemn; he dreaded to -enter the room; the weird story impressed him with a nervousness -unaccountable to himself; he had ever been of a skeptical turn, and had -scoffed at spiritual phenomena and manifestations as creations of an -overwrought brain. He felt tempted to leave the old house this night, he -had a dread of the coming hours; then, he thought scornfully, it would -look too much like running away because of a weird story, and—some -unseen force seemed to restrain him; a whisper in the air—an unseen -hand—seemed to be holding him. - -He tried to shake himself out of the feeling, and said pettishly: “What -nonsense this is!—Much better to have gone on!” but he would not, -neither could he go. - -He gathered a great armful of wood from the old barn at the far end of -the lot, and soon the blaze leaped up brightly; the room grew -oppressively warm, the heat, together with the loss of sleep the night -before, lulled his senses into drowsy nodding; then he dropped into deep -sleep, with his head thrown back against the dark cushion, the dying -fire playing over his sun-browned face fitfully. - -The night waned; the fire died to a bed of embers, still he slept -quietly on. - -Of a sudden he opened his eyes, wide awake on the instant; he did not -stir, but he felt sure—sure that a hand was resting lightly on his -shoulder, that a face almost touched his own; it seemed not the presence -of one unknown, but rather of one for whom he had been waiting; he had -not before realized this fact, but it now dawned upon him with solemn -gladness. At once he seemed to know that it was for this that he had -waited; like a dawning light it occurred to him that there is no such -thing as accident, that all things proceed from cause to effect, that -the intelligent power which is the source of all things _cannot_ forsake -His children; the law which is immutable to the least of His children is -just as unalterable for Him; he realized that he had been led in this -path. He did not seem to be thinking this; it was shown to him through -the spiritual sense as though the search light of the soul had been -thrown upon the facts for his guidance; his every physical effort seemed -to be absorbed in the sense of hearing. - -Some force other than his own compelled him to turn around; at that -instant a sob sounded close beside him; it thrilled him like a blast of -cold wind, but he was bound to his chair as though with iron bands. -About the middle of the room he heard a rustling sound, but saw nothing -except the indistinct shadows called forth by the dying fire; then a cry -smote his ear, a sound full of fear and anguish; gradually upon his -sight grew the forms of a man and woman in agitated conversation; he -stern and angry; she, with her face in her hands, sobbed bitterly; this -appeared to melt the man’s anger, and bending above her bowed figure he -kissed her bright hair. Behind him crept the man whose face Phil had -seen beneath the battered hat, and dealt the other man a terrible blow -with a hatchet; the woman raised her face with an appalled shriek, and -with a mad ferocity he struck her to the floor; as she sank down the -assailed man appeared to recover somewhat, and sought to defend himself; -Phil could see the straining muscles, the tigerish ferocity of the -assailant’s countenance, the failing struggles of the man on the -defensive, a falling back inertly; when he lay ghastly, and cadaverous, -the assailant seized him and dragged him out; not as one in fear, but -fiercely, as though desirous of putting something he loathed out of his -sight. Presently he returned, and stood looking down at the woman with -strangely working features; he brought his hands together despairingly, -as though bewailing his work; then a sudden wave of passion seemed to -sweep over him, a wild frenzy of mingled love and hate; for an instant -he clasped her form in mad embrace; then as though he loathed even the -inanimate flesh, he bore her out of the house as he had carried the man. -Phil could hear the fierce panting breath, and the vicious tread upon -the porch outside. - -For an instant Phil lost all consciousness of the room, of all -circumstances, of even the heavy tread outside—it was as though his very -spirit swooned; when he again became cognizant of his surroundings the -murderer was peering through the open door; his eyes shone out of his -ghastly face with a fierce, yet half affrighted, maniacal light. He -strode across the room to the bed, and with angry gestures, he pulled -the clothing hither and thither; at last he seemed to find that for -which he sought, a small packet tied in oiled silk. He walked to a panel -in the wall, directly opposite the foot of the bed; he grasped the -hound’s head by the muzzle, and it looked as though the animal sprang to -life; its eyes rolled wildly, it opened its jaws as though to devour the -assailant, who tossed the packet into the wide-open mouth, which closed -with a snap as though appeased by the sacrifice. The scene faded away; -exhaustion held Phil a prisoner until far into the next day. - -He returned to a consciousness of his surroundings with a shiver of -affright, but as he looked out at the sunlit fields, and smelled the -fresh dewy atmosphere, he thought his vision of the past night but the -illusions of a dream. - -“This close, stuffy room is quite enough to give one a nightmare,” he -said, stretching his limbs; which felt sore and bruised; he also had a -horrible sense of exhaustion. - -He walked into the garden, and bathed his face in the stream; there was -such fresh life in the atmosphere that his soul filled with the -elasticity of hope, and his spirits rose to exaltation; after all, what -is energy but hope put to use? - -Yesterday his imagination lay dormant; to-day his purposed picture -formed itself in his mind, in lineaments of beauty and glowing color. He -ate his breakfast in healthy mood; he said to himself: “I’ll get out of -this witch’s den to-day! I wouldn’t spend another night here—” a touch -light as thistledown grazed his cheek; a breath from the unseen—a -pressure on his shoulder, as of an invisible hand; he felt, without -knowing the cause, that he could not go. - -He arose and went into the house: “I wonder!” though what he wondered he -did not say. - -He took the sketch of the head he had drawn yesterday, and held it to -the light, turning it from side to side. It was, line for line, the face -of the murderer as he saw it in his vision; as he sat regarding the -drawing thoughtfully, another phase of the vision—was it vision or -dream? though the distinction between a vision and a dream might be a -nice point for argument—but his mind dwelt with strange insistence upon -the packet which he had seen put away. - -“If I find that parcel it will prove that it was a vision, and it will -determine my next step; though why I should go prying around this old -house I do not know. The sketch of the head and this illusion also, may -both be the effect of that old woman’s story; but—but—it doesn’t tally. -Well, here goes for the next move!” he said. - -Was it but fancy, that a soft, happy sigh reached his ear? or was it but -the summer breeze? - -How like the unbroken links of a chain it all appeared; he had planned -none of it, he could never have imagined himself in such a rôle; some -volition other than his own had led him in a well-prepared way. No -abrupt breaks, no jumps, no indecisions are necessary in our lives; when -such is the case we are in fault; we fail to heed the signboards and the -danger signals; we are shocked when we halt on the verge of a precipice, -or disgusted when we find that we have walked weary miles on the wrong -road, all because we read the signs to suit our fancied pleasure, or -plunged ahead and read them not at all. - -His exalted, happy mood left him; he grew restless and nervous; he was -conscious of a stir all about him, a continuous vibration; he could not -sit still. At last he arose and walked over to the panel which he had, -in his vision, seen opened; he passed his hands over the ornamental -head, searching for a screw, bolt, or anything to indicate that any -portion of it was movable; it seemed one solid piece of carving. - -“This is all nonsense! I have dreamed the whole thing!” But though he -derided, he could not rid himself of his unrest, or the intuition of a -sweet presence urging him on. - -He examined the alternate panel, and could detect no difference; he -again returned, grasping the muzzle as he had seen the murderer do; he -started, it felt cold to his hand; he tapped it with his knife, it gave -forth a metallic sound; this was iron, the others, wood. He trembled -with excitement as he searched for a hinge, spring, or other means of -ingress; he no longer doubted being intuitively led. He placed himself -as nearly as possible in the position he had witnessed, and grasped the -muzzle in the same manner; a hot flush passed over his face, for a -single instant his knees grew weak with superstitious fear as he felt -the yielding of a tiny spring beneath the ends of his fingers. He -pressed firmly upon it; the jaws flew apart, the eyes rolled so fiercely -and so suddenly that it made him start back in affright; he thrust his -arm into the opening thus formed, and drew forth the package wrapped in -oiled silk, just as he had seen it in his vision—he could no longer -doubt its being such. Something else he saw, but a warning click caused -him to withdraw his hand; none too soon, the jaws closed like a steel -trap. - -He eagerly unfolded the parcel, it seemed that he knew previous to -opening it what it would contain; the marriage certificate of John -Hilyer, and Amanda Cosgrove. - -He returned to his chair and sat looking at the paper thoughtfully; it -was dated from a distant city, but he knew in some occult way that -Amanda Cosgrove was of the country. I cannot express it better than by -saying that the name wafted to him a breath of country air; the odor of -buttercups, and a glint of their gold. - -The package held another paper—a sealed will. - -He drew a breath of relief, and experienced a glad sense of freedom, as -though until now he had been bound to some onerous duty. He sat long -with his hand pressed over his eyes, his senses deadened to all outside -impressions; repeating over many times the name of Amanda Cosgrove; -formulating slowly and distinctly his desire to see her. - -At first all things waved and swayed, a conglomeration of darkness, shot -with rays of light and color; gradually, there evolved from this a hilly -country, verdant with grass, and beautified with many trees; a sunny -valley with carpet of a brighter hue, and fields of waving grain. A low, -picturesque cottage stood in the shelter of a grove; before the door -stood a woman whose hair was like silver, and the face though sad and -worn did not look old. She shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked -wistfully in his direction; dimly outlined within the doorway -shone—fairly shone—a face which his spirit recognized as her whose hand -had rested upon his shoulder, whose spirit presence had been his guide -in this search. - -Gradually the picture faded, and so great was his sense of loss that for -a time his mind seemed a perfect blank. Then, a fever possessed him to -sketch the cottage, the valley, the fair hillside, and the persons he -had seen, and with whom he had been in spiritual communion. He worked -with an eagerness and joy never before experienced, he delighted in -every detail; he touched the fair, dimly seen face lovingly, -lingeringly. - -Three days later he left the old house; a half regret assailed him as it -disappeared from view, for here he first saw the pure spirit whose -occult influence was lifting him to a higher and purer life. He went -direct to the city named in the marriage certificate; he found a record -of it which gave that city as the residence of Amanda Cosgrove. He could -find no further trace of her; the time was so distant, and the clew so -slight; it was like searching for a drop of water in the sea to endeavor -to find one insignificant individual amid the shifting population of a -large city. - -It would be less than interesting to follow Philip through his frequent -and grievous disappointments. - -During all the time a change was taking place in all his thoughts and -feelings; from the _ennui_ and disgust of the former time and former -associates, he had grown into a healthy, hearty happiness in the -present; putting the evil of the past wholly behind him, living in the -good of each day as each day dawned; trying honestly and joyously to -reach upward to a higher standard of thought and work. The presence of -the sweet spirit was ever near him, prompting his laggard efforts, -renewing his courage, and his faith in himself; chiding if at any time -the evil spell of the old ways tempted him. I must do him the justice to -say that it seldom occurred, because he had reached this happy -knowledge, that so long as truth abides life cannot be wholly worthless, -because the very life of hope is in truth. He came to feel a -compassion—in the place of the past hatred—for his former associates, -whose minds had become diseased; so long as we hate we too are touched -with moral leprosy. He saw that none were so degraded but that some germ -of good yet remained for future development; for good is the seed of the -Infinite, and He will not destroy his own, though it be but in the -proportion of one grain to a mountain of sand. - -How strange that we should be taught that even the hairs of our heads -are numbered—the mere material—and then believe that one pure spiritual -ray shall go out in darkness. It may not be that the germ will be -developed in this plane, but when the limitations and our own -degradation of the flesh shall cease, the seed will be planted and -fostered in the Beyond, and the trend of good can be no otherwise than -toward perfection; all life must grow toward the light. Filled with such -thoughts as these, he worked faithfully and conscientiously. - -One lovely afternoon he visited the art gallery; he had not been there -for some time, and he went prepared to enjoy the treat; he took with him -his favorite book, and sought a cozy corner; for a time he read, then he -wandered among the paintings until his eyes were satisfied with beauty; -again returning to his corner and his book, enjoying his feast of good -things. - -It was growing late in the day; he would make one more excursion, then -return to his room, feeling that it had been a well-spent afternoon. He -walked slowly down the room, looking abstractedly upon the floor; -thinking how strange that he had not been able to obtain a single trace -of Amanda Cosgrove; the thought struck him coldly—that he saw John -Hilyer carry her out as though dead—yet he felt that she still lived. He -sighed, for several days he had not felt the sweet, haunting Presence; -he missed it as one does a dear, familiar friend; he longed for the soft -thrilling vibration. - -Preoccupied with thought, he did not observe a lady standing before one -of the paintings, and awkwardly stepped upon her dress; he turned to -apologize, but speechless, held his hat poised in the air. Meeting a -person for the first time, did never the feeling assail you that this -one was not a stranger to you, although time or place of meeting you -could not recall? So it was with him; his heart leaped in recognition, -yet—he could not recall—what? It made his brain dizzy, his heart beat -tumultuously, thought was in disorder; the words he uttered seemed to -him to have been spoken before, he was merely repeating them; he was as -one in a dream, doing things without conscious volition. He went through -the apology mechanically, stiffly, though he longed with all his soul to -reach out his hands and clasp her in sweet embrace, but he turned coldly -away, to be confronted by a picture; a country scene; the sloping hills, -the woody heights, the velvet carpet of grass, the waving grain, the -cottage half-embowered in trees, a woman with upraised hand, looking, as -though to peer into futurity; line for line as he had seen it in his -concentration, as he had painted it since; the coloring, the touch -seemed identical. - -He stooped to read the name: “The Hope of a Lifetime, by Maida -Cosgrove.” He uttered an exclamation of astonishment; the lady turned, -regarding him strangely; he was intently studying the picture, and she -turned again to depart. By what narrow chances do we lose or gain the -desire of a lifetime, the fruition of our dearest hope—and humanity -says—How sad an accident! - -A gentleman passing raised his hat, with the salutation: - -“Good-afternoon, Miss Cosgrove!” - -Philip wheeled suddenly, trembling in every fibre of his body; like a -brilliant sunlight the knowledge that this fair woman was she whose -spirit had hovered over him, elevating and encouraging him, broke in -upon his intelligence. The strange man was regarding him curiously; Phil -removed his hat, and addressed her in a formal manner: “I beg pardon! I -am Philip Aultman. Will you excuse my boldness—are you related to Amanda -Cosgrove?” he asked excitedly. - -“She is my mother,” replied Maida with quiet dignity. - -“I have some papers of value belonging to her, which I think she would -be glad to obtain,” he explained. - -The whole occurrence seemed informal, but a feeling of sympathy lay -between them, as of old acquaintanceship. Philip spoke of the picture, -and Maida replied that it was her home. It was with strange sensations -that Philip the next day approached the house. He had given Maida no -knowledge of the character of the papers in his possession, yet she had -exhibited no surprise or curiosity, but rather as though she knew and -appreciated his mission; he felt himself in a very awkward position. - -How should he account to Amanda Cosgrove for their possession? What -excuse had he for searching out her whereabouts? What did it concern -him? He found it hard—impossible to answer these questions to himself; -how then should he answer to her satisfaction? Could he say to her that -it was through psychic knowledge? - -His face burned at thought of the ridicule which would greet that -statement, but—was it not true? In what other manner had he gained one -iota of this knowledge? He was not yet strong enough to stand up and -declare the truth in the face of skepticism and ridicule. Very many -people enjoy antagonism; it brings out their fighting qualities, and -they feel very strong; but ridicule hits the very heart of their -conceit, and they weakly go down before it. - -Phil drove up to the door feeling very weak indeed; all things had a -familiar look; in his psychic condition, he had seen even the gray cat, -that sunned itself on the door mat, and the tall hollyhocks, standing -like red-coated sentinels, near the gate. - -It seemed very proper when Amanda Cosgrove stepped forward to meet him, -although his thought of the moment before had been: “What shall I say to -her?” - -Her first words were a surprise, and settled all difficulties. - -“I knew that you would come! But I have waited so long!” - -His way was very easy after that; he placed the papers and drawings in -her hands; as she opened the marriage certificate, she sobbed aloud. -“Oh, mother! Don’t grieve, mother!” cried Maida imploringly. - -“Oh, not for grief! not for grief, my child! This is greater joy than I -have known in many a day! Poor, misguided John, he was to be pitied; but -you, my Maida, have had to bear the stain of illegitimacy all these -years! It has nearly broken my heart. I have seen your playmates slight -you; I have heard them cast it in your face, and was powerless to prove -the truth; and yet, my Maida never loved her mother the less,” she cried -hysterically. - -“You could have proved it by the church record,” said Phil, in surprise -that she should be ignorant on such a point. - -Such however was the fact, living within a few miles of the proof of her -marriage she and her child had been shunned and scorned, because of that -ignorance. One thing only sustained her, the firm belief that some day -all would be made right. - -That evening, sitting in the twilight, she finished the story of that -awful night. - -She became acquainted with John Hilyer through a young friend in the -city; none of her people liked him, they bitterly opposed her seeing -him. John, with all the fiery impetuosity of his nature, had fallen in -love with her; it was mating the dove with the fierce bird of prey; he -fairly compelled her with his fiery persistence. She at last eloped with -him, and they were married; he loved her too truly to wrong her. For -three months they traveled, he then made preparations to take her to his -home. Often his fierce love frightened her; she adored him, but she was -afraid of him. - -He knew all of her family except one brother, whom he had never seen. -The whole family misjudged him in thinking that he had wronged the girl; -the brother whom he had never met endeavored to find them; but it was -not until they were returning to the old home that he obtained a trace -of them. When they were first married Amanda wished to write to her -people, but John sternly forbade it. - -It was night when they reached home; John kindled a fire, seated her in -the great easy-chair with much ceremony, and with many fond words, and -fierce kisses made his wife welcome. - -He had scarcely left the house to care for the team which brought them, -when her brother burst into the room; the happy smiles died upon her -lips, never to return again. She trembled with affright; she knew that -John might return at any moment and she feared his anger. She excitedly -rose to her feet, and advanced to the center of the room, and as the -accusation of shame left her brother’s lips, she sank upon her knees, -sobbing forth her denial; at first he scoffed at her words; but as -conviction of the truth was forced upon him, he begged her pardon, and -stooped to kiss her bowed head; through the uncurtained window John -witnessed the closing part of the scene. - -In his hand he had a hatchet, with which to cut kindling for the fire; -in an instant the demon of jealousy sprang to life full grown; he did -not consider the absurdity of his thought—does jealousy ever consider? -His mind held no thought but that this man was his wife’s lover, and the -fancied knowledge drove him insane. He silently let himself into the -room, creeping, creeping up behind them; as the brother stooped over to -caress her, John dealt him a fearful blow; Amanda raised her face with a -horrified cry; with an infuriated epithet he struck her, the blow was -sufficiently hard to render her insensible, but her heavy garments saved -her life. Regaining consciousness, the brother fought desperately, but -against a madman he had no chance in his favor. - -When his opponent lay before him, a livid corpse, still no compunction -touched his conscience; he spurned the lifeless form with his foot, and -dragged him out as he would have cast out a dead dog; he threw the body -into the well at the end of the porch, and returned to the room. - -Amanda recovered consciousness during the struggle between the two men, -but she was without power either of speech or motion; horror held her -dumb, her brain only held life. She tried to cry out but could not, she -was like one in a trance, even when John lifted her in his arms, and -cast her from him, she had little sense of the horror of her situation; -something caught her, and with a sudden jerk, she felt herself -suspended. She had no idea of what held her, or what would become of her -should the fabric give way. Instinctively she threw up her arm as her -head came in contact with a timber, and for a few seconds she hung there -without consciousness enough to make an effort. - -Then a sudden terror of the unknown shook her, and she made an effort to -raise herself; it was well for her that she could not see the dizzy -depth beneath her, in such situations fear is our worst enemy. She -cautiously raised herself by a board above her head, until she could -loosen her sleeve from a large hook, upon which it had caught; she then -easily raised herself until she could climb over the low curb, and stood -upon the ground outside; here she sank down, weak and trembling for a -few minutes. Then, though a chill fear assailed her, she determined to -go into the house; she wondered where her brother was, that he did not -come to her rescue; but she must go in! John, her John, would surely not -harm her knowingly; she dragged herself along wearily, holding on to the -side of the house for support; she felt so sick and tired. - -She looked in through one of the long windows, the candle had been -extinguished long since by a draught of wind, the fire had burned low, -and only an occasional fitful blaze leaped up, and lighted the room -intermittently; in one of the flashes she saw John lying in the middle -of the floor. - -“Poor fellow, he is sorry now that he gave way to his quick temper, and -he is lying there grieving. I wonder where Brother Ernest is?” - -She pulled herself slowly into the room; the wall clock ticked loudly, -its long pendulum seeming to take a preternatural sweep; as she neared -the recumbent figure the fire crackled ominously, and the blaze flared -up redly, like blood; she shivered as she bent over the recumbent -figure. A brand fell to the earth, a bright flame shot up lighting all -the room, and the pallid face of the dead man. The horror and desolation -of all things smote her with sudden madness. - -Months afterward she wandered into her old home; it was in dead of -winter, she was half naked, white haired, wan, and emaciated; her father -and mother remembered nothing, save that she was their child. For weeks -she lay on the bed, white and silent, or sat in an easy-chair beside a -sunny window, propped up with pillows, but when her baby girl was laid -in her arms she looked at it with the light of love and reason in her -sad eyes; but the same silence which had characterized her lunacy, -remained in her sanity. Of what use to explain to them those awful -incidents; they did not believe that she was John Hilyer’s wife—why -should she make further explanation to be disbelieved? She was either -morbidly wrong, or—still a little unbalanced by all that she had -endured. - -She named her babe Maida Hilyer, but all persisted in calling the child -Cosgrove. - -“The name doesn’t matter,” she said sadly; but later when she saw her -supposed sin visited upon the innocent child she cried aloud to the All -Merciful to right her wrong. - -The ways of the All Wise are not our ways, very fortunately, or things -would be greatly muddled. The old father and mother died, but Amanda and -her child remained at the farm. - -Maida was eighteen, a gentle, rarely thoughtful girl; her mother’s -sorrow seemed to have left its impress on her character and mind; she -early showed a decided artistic talent, which her mother took pains to -cultivate; all went well until Maida gained recognition; then that -jealousy which ever seems to lie in wait for unpropitious circumstances, -seized upon the name she bore to taunt her. - -Poor Maida! She threw herself into her mother’s arms, ready to give up -her chosen profession. Her mother said sadly: “Be brave, my child! I -know that some day the truth will come to light!” - -Maida thought continually of her mother’s words, and with all her soul -sought to reach the one who she felt was destined to help right the -grievous wrong; but she continued her work as sweetly and firmly as -though no wound was there. - -One night her mother dreamed of the old house, it looked as it did the -night of the tragedy; she saw a strange form there, and she reached out -her hands supplicatingly, beseeching his help; to her spiritual sense it -was made manifest that her wish should be accomplished; she told this to -Maida, and the two talked of little else, and thought of it without -cessation, until night after night in her dreams Maida stood by that -stranger’s form, urging him to clear up the mystery. - -The will inclosed with the certificate gave all of his property to his -“beloved wife, Amanda Cosgrove Hilyer.” - -There was no more cause to taunt Maida, and there was no opposition to -Amanda’s taking possession of the property, which necessitated a visit -to the place. Amanda walked silently about: “Poor John! Poor John!” she -said pathetically; they looked shudderingly down into the depths of the -old well, and as though some occult influence prompted her, Amanda said, -“I wonder what became of brother Ernest. No one ever saw him after that -time; I wish that I knew!” - -Philip thought it far better that she did not know, therefore he kept -silence. - -The hook upon which Amanda had caught was still firmly imbedded in the -beam; in the elder Mrs. Hilyer’s day it had been used to suspend butter -and cream into the cool depths below. - -Philip showed them the secret panel, and in doing so discovered another -secret for himself; the lower portion of the panel formed a drawer; as -long as the drawer remained open, the mouth of the dog would not close, -but as the drawer was shut, the mouth came together with a vicious snap, -as though the thing were possessed of life. This drawer contained all of -John Hilyer’s papers, and a large sum of money; and here also they found -the story of the lonely heart life of a man of strong feeling, and -untaught, ungoverned passions; a sad record of a noble soul gone astray. - - -Phil and his wife Maida are very happy, and with the gentle, -white-haired mother, they live in the pleasant cottage where Phil in his -concentration first saw them. - - - - - A NINETEENTH CENTURY GHOST. - - -My health had failed at last through constant work, long hours, -insufficient and irregular diet, and my nerves paid the penalty for thus -transgressing nature’s laws. Every sin brings its own punishment, -whether it be mental, moral, or physical; it may be that payment is not -exacted to-day, or to-morrow, but sooner or later the penalty will -surely follow the sin. - -I was in fact mentally, as well as bodily exhausted; I had reached the -very depths of disgust; nothing seemed worth doing, everything was -useless; work was worse than useless, a foolishness; pleasure—nothing -was a pleasure. Like one of old I cried out: “All is vanity and vexation -of spirit.” - -I went into the country; not to a distant railway station, to become one -of a dissatisfied mob at a crowded summer hotel, but into the very heart -of the green hills, where the limpid streams gurgled for very joy, as -they frolicked on their way to the distant river; where the woods were -so dense that the sun could only play hide and seek with the softly -fluttering leaves, once in a while touching the soft mossy carpet, or -the glossy leaves of the scarlet checkerberries lovingly. - -Here I found the dearest, quaintest old houses with pointed gables under -which the noisy swallows built their nests of mud—a house with small, -many-paned windows, and great, yawning fireplaces. - -The simple-hearted old people who owned the place welcomed me with -unaffected curiosity. - -I dawdled in the evenings in the sitting room with grandpa and grandma -Yoeman, with no light save the flickering blaze of the hickory logs; -idly watching the pictures in the glowing coals, and dreaming strange -sweet dreams, which ever held a reflection of entrancing sadness. - -The fitful blaze cast strange lights and shadows on the low ceiling; -glinting on grandma’s busy knitting needles; brightening and fading like -an uncertain life. - -Occasionally one of the neighbors came in to exchange news about the -planting; to borrow or “swap” garden seeds; to speculate on the weather; -the greater reason being to see the city boarder. - -Sometimes their frank inquisitiveness amused, at other times it annoyed -me. - -I had been there a month; the weather had grown too warm to permit a -fire in the evening, and the sitting room looked dismal with its one -small kerosene lamp, around which the moths fluttered, and singed their -foolish wings, nearly obscuring the light. - -“Drat the things,” said grandma, from time to time. - -Heavy clouds lay low in the west, and the occasional low growling of -thunder indicated the coming of a storm; the breeze scarcely lifted the -muslin curtain at the window. - -A rush of homesickness came over me; the gloom depressed me, and left me -wretched; the sultry atmosphere seemed unbearable; the quaint, -low-ceiled rooms seemed suffocating, and detestably ugly, and I wondered -that I could have thought them so charming. - -I hurried away to my room, which was at the further end of the house, to -hide my tears. The long, draughty hall seemed filled with lurking -shadows; I thought it endless, and was sure that the doors were opening -on either side as I passed. I dashed open the door of my own room, and -for a few breathless minutes crouched in the corner most thoroughly -frightened. Presently, ashamed of my childish terror, I arose and -lighted my lamp. - -I could not shake off the frightened feeling; the dim, uncertain light -of the small lamp left the corners of the room in wavering gloom; the -gathering clouds sent out their advance signals—a fitful gust of moist -wind—now and then, which suddenly flapped the curtain at the window as -though shaken by an angry hand, and swayed the old-fashioned valance to -the bed until I felt ready to scream. - -I closed the blinds, turned the blaze of the lamp still higher, -endeavoring to make the room look cheerful. Ah, well! The cheerfulness -oftener comes from within than without, and I was nervously depressed -and homesick. - -I was in that restless mood in which everything is irksome. I wished to -write, I could not; a thousand elusive fancies floated by me like -thistledown; my mind reached out to grasp them—a tantalizing caprice of -the brain, a feeling of mental inadequacy—and they were gone into the -realm of the goblin, Incompetent. - -I threw down the pen: “What a strange thing the brain is! At times -docile and obedient; again, willful, elusive, exasperating; a thing over -which one has no control,” I cried angrily. - -I walked restlessly up and down the room until I was fatigued, and -impatiently threw myself into a great armchair; taking up an unfinished -book I tried to read, I turned a page or two without comprehending a -thought; I threw the book to the furthest corner of the room in anger -and disgust. - -Again I walked the floor impatiently, and in the same wretched mood, -undressed and went to bed, where I vainly endeavored to sleep. - -The clouds, which had been gathering since dusk, now marshalled their -forces for battle; the vivid lightning played about the room in wildly -fantastic manner; a momentary white glare, then the darkness of Inferno. -The heavy thunder growled an accompaniment, or broke into a sharp crash, -dying away like the angry growl of the discomfited storm fiend. - -The wind arose, and swung the rickety shutters to and fro throughout the -whole house with many an angry crash; the dead branches of an old -tree—standing by the corner window—tapped on the shaking pane with -ghostly fingers. - -I had extinguished my light, the flame annoyed me; and now—from being -nervous—I became hysterical. Several times, as a vivid glow illumined -the room, followed by an awful crash, I screamed outright; it disturbed -no one; grandma and grandpa Yoeman slept in the far end of the house. I -became so frightened that I pulled the covers over my head and lay there -shivering. - -The electrical storm had somewhat subsided, but the wind was blowing -shrilly, and the rain coming down in sheets. - -Some impulse compelled me to uncover my head; a nervous sensation that -something or some one was in the room—a terror of the unseen. I drew -down the bedclothes, arose on one elbow, and gave a horrified scream, -which died away in an awful constriction of the throat. - -A figure floated before my affrighted eyes; now coming toward me a pace, -then receding; disappearing only to return again. It seemed to float in -the air with a strange undulating motion. I could not turn my eyes away, -although filled with a mortal terror. It stood out like a picture, clear -and distinct, as though the body were filled with luminous light; the -turn of the head, the glint of the hair, suggestive of one whom I had -known and hated in the past—which it still drove me mad to remember—as I -perceived the likeness, or as it seemed, the reality, all fear left me; -instantly my soul was filled with wrath; all the old agony came over me -like an overwhelming flood; I seemed to feel again all the pangs caused -by the treachery and deceit of that false friend. I started up with a -bitter cry, and rushed at the hated face to rend it. - -My hands clutched but empty air! The vision was as elusive as had been -my thoughts; I could grasp neither. - -I crept back into bed bathed in a cold perspiration, and such was my -mental and bodily exhaustion that I sank into a stupor and knew no more -until morning. - -When I awoke the sun was shining brightly, and as I jumped out of bed -and threw open the blinds my fears of the past night seemed like an -absurd dream. - -The face of nature looked so refreshed after her bath; the gentle breeze -shook the blossoming lilacs, to which the raindrops still clung like -countless jewels; their odor came deliciously wafted to me as I leaned -from the open windows; the grass glittered with clinging moisture among -its tender green; a bluebird swung on the branch of a gnarled old apple -tree just bursting into bloom and let out a flood of glorious song; a -meadow lark, sitting on the single post which rose above its fellows, -accepted the challenge and sang with all his might: “Sweet, sweet, -sweet; John G. Whittier!” again and again. - -Fear seemed most absurd with all this wealth of sunshine and springing -vegetation around me; but grandma Yoeman said to me as I entered the -kitchen for breakfast, “You look awfully peaked, Miss Eda; was you so -’fraid of the storm that you didn’t sleep well?” - -“Oh, I’m all right, grandma!” Nevertheless, I could not eat my breakfast -of hot biscuit, golden honey, ham and eggs; although I made a pretense -of enjoying the food, as I knew that grandma tried very hard to please -me. - -When night came my nerves again asserted themselves; every sound made me -start apprehensively. My window was wide open; the great old lilac -bushes seemed to lean caressingly in, their odor borne to me on the -soft, warm wind, as it playfully lifted the thin curtain. - -All was so balmy, quiet and sweet that after a time it soothed my -excited nerves, and I slept soundly until morning. - -Thus it continued for two weeks, until I began to think that I must have -been dreaming. I saw nothing, I heard nothing more alarming than the -rats, which scurried up and down between the plastering and the -clapboards, or gnawed industriously at the narrow base. - -I had been roaming over the fields all day; I had climbed from rock to -rock down the shallow creek as happy as a child; I had lain on the last -year’s leaves, and plaited a crown of checkerberries, the glossy green -of the leaf, and the brilliant red of the berries forming a lovely -contrast. I gathered also a great bunch of wild forget-me-nots; it was -sunset when I reached home; I placed the flowers on the little stand in -front of the mirror, and hung the wreath above it, so that the mirror -reflected it like a duplicate. - -I retired early, and immediately dropped to sleep. Some time during the -night I was awakened—it might have been a shutter that slammed, or a -door in one of the empty rooms—in my half-awakened state it sounded like -a pistol shot. As I started up in bed I became conscious of an unusual -commotion; the trees were swaying and creaking; the lilacs bent and -shivered; my curtains were swept straight out into the room, and as I -looked with startled eyes the luminous figure once more stood before me, -fearfully distinct; the bouquet of forget-me-nots I had gathered held in -her hand; the crown of leaves and berries resting on her head; even in -my awful fright I observed that it was tipped coquettishly over the -right side of the head, instead of being set demurely on top. She seemed -to advance and recede, waving the flowers at me derisively; again the -resemblance to that woman whom my soul loathed struck me with a -sickening sense of pain and hatred. - -I had often listened to my old grandmother as she told tales of -supernatural visitations and mysterious warnings; of the death watch in -the wall, and that immediately following these prognostications some -beloved one surely departed this life; she related instances of ghostly -tappings on the headboard, and of a deadly chill, like a cadaverous -finger, creeping up and down the spine, to warn the unhappy recipient -that a stranger was treading on their future grave. - -These half-forgotten teachings recurred to me with awful vividness, and -I experienced the same sensations which drove me, at that time, -shivering to my bed to lie with sleepless eyes listening for the dread -signal. I felt sure that this “presence” was a warning that my death was -near, and that _she_ brought the message, was an added menace—unless I -forgave her. I had never known hate of any other being in my life; I had -said egotistically that it was not in my nature to hate. Circumstances -show us that we have a very limited acquaintance with our capabilities -and proclivities; I learned that lesson through fiery tribulation. -Another thing which I had been taught as a child now recurred to my mind -as a torment. I had been taught that I must forgive, if I would be -forgiven, and that I must love my enemy. - -How could I forgive her? Though death, or that punishment which I had -been taught would come after death, should stare me in the face, I could -not forgive the deliberate wrecking of my life’s happiness. - -The vision disappeared while these tormenting thoughts raced each other -through my mind; as suddenly returning, it advanced menacingly toward -the bed. - -A fresh blast of wind shook the old house from garret to foundation; -doors crashed, blinds rattled and shook; trees swayed and groaned -dismally; the low of the frightened cattle was borne on the wings of the -blast; a dog howled dismally from out the darkness. I could look no -more; I covered my head and shivered with mortal terror. The following -morning I was unable to rise; there was no questioning in my mind. I -felt sure that I was doomed; that the warning was not only of my demise, -but of future punishment as well, unless I forgave the bearer of that -message. This last thought continually tortured me. How could I force -forgiveness? I might profess it, I might even try and cheat myself into -thinking it; but the turn of a head, the movement of a hand, the tone of -a voice, would bring a never-to-be-forgotten picture before my mind, -which would give the lie to all my pretense. I hated with just cause, -and should I forgive, would I not thereby place myself on a level with -that creature of debasement? Could I stoop to such forgiveness, and -retain my own self-respect? No! no! no! I could pass by; I could leave -her and her ways to the inevitable punishment that must follow her -deeds; I could avoid being in anywise the instrument of vengeance in the -hand of Providence, though Providence walked by my side and whispered in -my ear temptingly; but forgive her and respect myself I could not; by -condoning the offense I should actually sanction it. - -Oh, the agony of that incessant thinking! Fighting the battle over and -over again, only to cry out despairingly: “I cannot! I cannot!” Day by -day my strength diminished; night after night ended in horror and -despair. - -Sometimes for a night or two the ghostly presence did not appear, then, -as hope began to dawn, it suddenly stood leering at me motionlessly; at -other times it undulated, advanced and receded, in maddening fashion. I -made all necessary preparations for the end which I felt must be very -near; there were none who would mourn me greatly; although I had but one -enemy, yet I had few friends; I could not open my heart to the whole -world. - -I had lived as nearly right as I knew—now another question added to the -torment of my mind; was I to be punished for that which I did not know? -How well I remembered the grim old preacher, who, pacing back and forth, -told us Sabbath after Sabbath that we were certain of punishment because -we did not know, that we must repent; that all were born in sin. I used -to think how much better it would have been not to have been born at all -than to have to be sorry for something you did not know anything about. - -He looked so savage as he pounded the pulpit that I used to slip off the -seat and try and hide; I thought he was going to help the Lord punish -us, and I tried so hard to be sorry, although I did not know for what. -Now I was troubled fearing that this was a truth; we are so much more -lazy than we wish to admit; we drift with circumstances, and call it -fate; we crouch down and receive degrading blows because it is so much -easier than fighting for the right. Letting things drift had ever been -my weakness, I so enjoyed being lazily happy; now I was tormented with -fear of the sins of omission. - -All through the day I dreaded the coming of the night, and the detested -vision; thus day brought me no solace because of harassing doubts, and -too perplexing questions. I had irritably begged grandma Yoeman to take -the hated wreath and flowers out of my sight, and from that day to this -their sweet, woody odor turns me faint and sick. - -The days lengthened with the fullness of summer, the petals of the apple -blossoms covered the ground with their fragrant snow, and now the green -globes hung from the bending boughs, and the old-fashioned garden was a -wealth of color; still I lay languid and helpless, in the low-ceiled -room—unheeding the beauty outside—as I lay with my face turned -hopelessly to the wall; or if perchance I looked out of the open window, -it was but to sigh despairingly: “I shall soon pass away from all things -earthly.” - -I had watched in vain for the tormenting presence for the past two weeks -until my mind was in that strange paradoxical state in which I dreaded, -yet anxiously awaited its appearance. I believed that one more visit -would surely be the last. - -Still another week passed, a week of dread anticipation; the day had -been so invigorating that in spite of my morbid imaginings, my -overwrought nerves loosed their tension. I had in the afternoon sat by -the open window for an hour or two, drinking in the balm of the -atmosphere, and when in the dusk I again crept into the bed I felt -fatigued, and lying down was restful; the fresh, clean sheets smelled of -lavender, and the soft mattress seemed fitted to every curve of my body. -I nestled my head in the pillow, and with the soft wind blowing through -the wide-open window, at once dropped asleep. Once or twice in the -earlier part of the night I opened my eyes, drowsily conscious that the -moon was lighting up the room with pale radiance, also vaguely realizing -an unusual sense of peace and comfort. - -It must have been very near morning when I awoke with a sinking sense of -fright; perspiration stood on my brow cold as death dew; I thought that -my hour of dissolution had come. Only the faintest ray of moonlight was -visible, as it was disappearing behind a bank of clouds in the west; the -wind was whistling shrilly through the trees, and into the room through -the open window, between which and the bed, undulated, receded, or -darted viciously forward the detestable specter. - -For a single instant my whole being sank inertly; I thought the very -elements in coalition with my tormenter; then a sudden anger, or -antagonism—assailed me. This fiend had wrecked my material life, through -my having been taught that resistance was wrong; that if “thine enemy -smite thee on one cheek, turn to him also the other.” - -Should I allow this old parody upon truth to drive me beyond the plane -of material existence? - -Since evolution began—and who can date its commencement?—resistance has -been the law governing the survival of the fittest; can that natural law -be wrong? The fact that the possessor of the greater power of resistance -survives is practical demonstration of its justice and right. I had in -the past weakly let go of home and happiness; now a rage assailed me as -fierce as a devastating forest fire; I cried out as I leaped from the -bed, “I will not succumb!” I rushed madly at the detested semblance; the -hateful leer appeared to grow more diabolical, the poise of the head -more insolent, as it evaded me. There came a blast which tore at the -shutters, and dashed the old mirror with a crash to the floor; at that -instant the specter dashed wildly toward me, swung dizzily around, and -it seemed to my excited imagination that the features assumed an -appalled look; a crash at the rear end of the room caused me to turn my -head, a thousand misplaced stars seemed scattered over the floor, -scintillating in the gloom. - -I turned again to renew my warfare—but the specter was nowhere to be -seen. I stood bewildered awaiting its return; but it came no more, and -with a shiver—half of fright, half of cold—I closed the window and crept -into bed; as I pulled the blankets about me, and snuggled down into the -pillows, I felt a comforting sense of having defeated my adversary; from -that beatific state I fell to musing upon the many contradictory -teachings of this life, and idly wondering which was right, or if all -were in error, and thus I drifted into slumber. - -Grandma Yoeman was in a state of terrible excitement the next morning -over the devastation of the storm. - -“To think, I’ve had that looking-glass ever since I was married! I do -hope it won’t bring you any bad luck, Miss Eda!” said she plaintively. - -“Oh, nonsense, grandma! From this hour my better health and my happiness -are assured,” I replied gayly. I had such perfect confidence that I -should no more be troubled by the uncanny vision that it made me very -happy. - -As I was lazily putting on my clothing, grandma’s lamentations broke out -afresh: “There’s that picture that my niece Mandy painted, broke all to -bits!” - -“I wonder that I never saw the picture,” said I, more to comfort grandma -by an interest in her misfortune than for any other reason. - -“Oh, I covered it up to keep the dust from it; it was real purty, jest -shone at night like anything,” she concluded regretfully. - -From that time on, I danced about the old house, and dreamed under the -gnarled apple trees, or among the sweet-scented clover, as happy as it -is possible to be—except for one longing pain. - -I seemed to see that I might, and ought to be, uplifted, exalted above -all evil; thus gaining the right from that elevation of purity, to pity -and forgive the soul so warped as to prefer evil to good. I now -understood that it was like crossing a bridge spanning a foul stream; -one might shudder at the offensive sight, but no soil or attaint could -touch even the outer garments. I let the sweet air of heaven blow all my -bitterness away; the birds and flowers spoke only of love and harmony, -and their sweet language taught me that I too had sinned, although I had -transgressed simply because I did not understand that I need neither -fraternize nor hold aloof, but walk my way in peace and quietude; -inasmuch as it lies not in the power of any person to wound my feelings, -or to injure me beyond the material; that within me, only, lies the -weakness which makes that possible. - -As I sat watching the great, lumbering bumble-bees crawl in and out of -the hollyhocks, thinking what fortunate fellows they were, to taste only -the sweets of life, there came a quiet step behind me, and a hand was -laid upon my shoulder which thrilled me from head to foot; I essayed to -rise, but my traitor limbs refused their support; the well-remembered -voice sounded afar off, but—oh, so sweet! - -“I have come to ask your forgiveness, and to acknowledge my wrong; -little woman, will you be merciful?” - -I cried out sharply: “But how can I trust you? You promised before, and -deceived me so bitterly!” the pent-up agony vibrating through my voice. - -Very gently he answered me: “I acknowledge that I did; but give me one -more trial—a chance to prove my better self to you—you shall never -regret it. Oh, Eda! Look at this tree upon which you are sitting; -through some mishap it grew warped and unsightly; but see! it has -changed its course, and is growing steadily upward, bearing an abundance -of wholesome fruit. Can’t you believe that I, too, will mend my course, -and that the fruit of my future life will be good?” - -The earnest, thrilling voice was as sweetest music to my ear; my heart -was so hungry, but—a memory—“But, oh, that woman!” I cried. - -“My wife, let us never again mention her! At last I see——” - -Manlike, he wished no mention made of his wrongdoing—that he put it -behind him he considered sufficient. A sharp pain went through my heart, -that all my agony was to be put aside so lightly; but—he was my husband. -I sat a moment irresolute, then placed my hands in his, and replied, “As -you wish; but let there be no looking backward, let us both live aright -each day, and we shall not fail of being happy.” - -I made instant resolve to put those higher and better thoughts into -practical use, and I have never had cause to regret so doing. Neither -the ghost of my enemy, nor the wraith of a regret have since visited me. - - - - - WHAT BECAME OF THE MONEY? - - -Marjorie Melton and Henry Laselle, were an ideally happy couple; for -once the course of true love seemed to run smoothly, thus belying the -old adage. Marjy was the pet and heiress of an old aunt with whom she -lived. Henry was a young lawyer, with a fair amount of practice, a good -reputation, and every prospect of success. Aunt Hattie—as she was -lovingly called—lived as befitted her station, on one of the most -fashionable avenues. - -One Monday evening Aunt Hattie received a large sum of money from the -sale of property; as it was after banking hours she locked it away in a -small safe in her sitting room. Henry and Marjy sat by the table -reading, and commenting on a work of occult science; Henry taking the -stand that it was like hunting for a half a dozen pearls in a mountain -of sand; Marjy defending the theories with much warmth, as much because -of their beauty as because of their truth. Hypnotism was the subject -under discussion, Henry declaring that he considered the whole thing -“fudge.” - -Aunt Hattie locked away her money, and as she passed the table, she -tossed a slip of paper on which was written the combination of the safe, -to Marjy, saying, “Put that away, please; it is a pity that one must -become so forgetful; I have but this instant locked that safe, yet I -cannot even now, remember the combination.” Her tone expressed such -intense disgust with herself that Henry and Marjy laughed merrily. - -Henry picked up the slip of paper and read the numbers and letters -aloud: “I’ll wager that I could repeat that a week from to-night!” - -“I’ll take that bet; you have a good memory, but I think not quite equal -to that; however I’ll put this out of your sight, so that you cannot -study it;” answered she teasingly, as she hid the paper. - -He left the house an hour or so later, and nothing further was said on -the subject. After he reached home the letters and figures kept -repeating themselves over and over in his mind, until he heartily tired -of them; even after he retired they continued to dance before his mental -vision, until he angrily exclaimed aloud: - -“Oh, confound the things! Small chance of my forgetting them!” - -He had barely reached his office the next morning when the telephone -bell ran sharply; Aunt Hattie answered his, “Hello!” - -“Hello! Henry, is that you?” - -“Yes; what is the trouble? Anything wrong up there?” - -“No—that is—nothing in particular. Say, Henry, did you take that money -last night?” - -“Aunt Hattie! Why should you think that I would take your money?” he -cried indignantly. - -“I thought that perhaps you did it to tease me; can’t you come to the -house for a few minutes?” - -“Certainly,” he replied. - -He had been very busy all the morning, and had not once thought of the -combination, but no sooner was he on his way to the house than, with -tantalizing pertinacity, it began repeating itself over, again and -again. Marjy met him at the door, she had evidently been weeping; he -caught her hands: “Why, Marjy, what is the matter? Have you been crying -over the loss of that money?” he asked in astonishment. - -She raised her eyes to his face, a troubled questioning in their depths, -“Did you not take it, Henry?” - -He drew back in hurt surprise: “What do you mean, Marjy? Do you think -that I would take your aunt’s money?” he asked indignantly. - -Marjy burst into tears: “Auntie—Auntie—” she stammered, and there she -stopped, unable to proceed. - -He finished the sentence for her; “Thinks me a thief,” he said grimly. - -She hung her head and sobbed: “You—you are the only person—beside auntie -and me, who knew the combination, you know!” she paused, then continued -desperately, “You remember that you boasted that you could repeat it a -week from that day——” - -“I should think so! I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for one -minute since; but what has that to do with your aunt’s money?” - -“No other person knew anything about it,” she said naïvely. - -“That explains your strange look when you hid the paper; you suspected -that I would steal the money.” - -“Oh, Henry! I had no thought of such a thing!” - -“Perhaps not, but you looked it!” he replied hotly. - -She drew herself up angrily: “I tell you that there was no such thought -in my mind; it must have had birth in your own consciousness; you -remember the old adage about ‘fleeing when no man pursueth.’” She tossed -her pretty head high in the air, and walked into the sitting room; he -followed sullenly behind. - -Here everything was in disorder; chairs were thrown about; books lay all -over the floor with their leaves fluttered open; window drapings were -shaken out of their usual prim folds; the piano cover lay in the middle -of the room; and at the instant of their entrance Aunt Hattie was on her -knees tearing frantically at the edge of the carpet. She turned a red -and disheveled countenance toward them. - -“Come and help me with this,” said she shortly. - -“For what are you tearing up the carpet?” asked Marjy. - -Auntie stopped her work, and dropped on to her knees staring blankly. -“Looking for the money, ninny!” she ejaculated in a tone of intense -disgust. - -“But Auntie, you put it in the safe!” - -She looked bewildered for a moment, then said fatuously, “Did I? I -thought perhaps I hid it under the carpet. Oh, yes; I remember! Henry -had the combination; there wasn’t any one knew it except you two,” she -finished angrily. - -Marjy turned a reproachful glance on Henry, who stood looking angrily at -auntie; she returned an equally angry gaze. - -“I do not think it kind of you to play such tricks upon me; give me back -the money, and have done with such foolishness!” said she. - -“Do you really think that I took your money?” he questioned hotly. - -“Of course! There was no one else knew the combination but you——” - -“Oh, confound that combination! I’ve heard it until I’m sick of it! Your -niece knew it as well as I—why not suspect her? She was in the house, I -was not!” - -“Yes, that’s so! Marjy did you take it?” fatuously. - -Marjy gave Henry a withering look: “What nonsense!” she cried. - -“Well, some one took it!” gloomily iterated auntie, as she continued to -lift up books, and flutter open papers. - -“You had best have a detective look into the matter,” said Marjy coldly. - -“Oh, not for the world! I wouldn’t be so disgraced!” cried auntie -excitedly. - -“I do not see how you are to ascertain the truth otherwise,” remarked -Henry. - -“Oh, dear! I wouldn’t care so much for the money—though it’s too much to -lose—but to have to suspect those in whom we have placed so much -confidence, and one’s very own, is awful!” wailed Aunt Hattie, not very -lucidly. - -Henry frowned angrily, then Marjy shot him a disdainful glance, and Aunt -Hattie glared reproachfully at both. - -Henry turned abruptly, lifting his hat in a sudden access of politeness; -“I bid you a very good day; if you wish to arrest me, you will find me -in my room, two doors away; or in my office on Tremont Street,” saying -which he strode angrily away. - -Marjy ran up to her room and locked herself in, despite her aunt’s -shrill cry: “Come here, Marjy, and help me to look for that money! Oh, I -must find it, it cannot be lost!” - -Notwithstanding her asseveration, it did seem to be lost. She one moment -declared that she was positive that she had locked it in the safe—and -scolded and reproached Marjy—then, she railed about Henry, and how -impossible it was to trust any one; taking another turn, she doubted -herself; she did not know whether or not she put it in the safe at all. -“It might be that I took it out after I put it there, and thought it -more secure in some other place; but of course I never once thought that -Henry would rob me, and he pretended to love you,” she would grumble. -Then she would fall to tearing things to pieces again. - -Whenever her aunt accused her, Marjy only cried out impatiently: “Oh, -nonsense, auntie! What would I do with it?” - -“I do not know, I am sure!” weakly. - -But when she assailed Henry, then Marjy flew into a tempest of passion. -“You know that he could not have touched it; we were all in the room -together until he left, and I went to the front door, and closed and -locked it after him; he lives two doors away, he couldn’t very well come -through the walls,” indignantly. - -“That’s so! You must have taken it, then!” hysterically. - -“Much more likely that you have hidden it away yourself. Oh, dear! My -life is ruined on account of that miserable money! Henry scarcely speaks -to me, and says that he will never step inside the house again!” - -“I do not see why you should mourn over a thief!” answered Aunt Hattie. - -“He isn’t a thief. I would as soon think that you took it yourself,” she -cried wrathfully. - -Aunt Hattie grew pale with anger: “Take care what you say, miss,” she -retorted with quivering lips. - -The whole household arrangement, mind, morals and manners, seemed -demoralized. Never before had an ill-natured word been spoken between -auntie and Marjy. Auntie had been like the placid autumn day, Marjy like -the blithe spring sunshine. Now everything was like a draught of bitter -water. Henry went about his work listlessly. - -The days dragged along tiresomely, Marjy and Henry met occasionally, and -although no word was spoken, by tacit consent the engagement was ended. -Marjy went nowhere and would receive no company. Gossips commented—there -must be something wrong; a bird of the air whispered—there always is a -telltale bird—that Henry was a defaulter; then, rumor had it, a common -thief. A kind friend? told him the report—there is also always the kind -friend—he was raging. He declared that he would leave the place, that he -would not stay here in disgrace; he surely thought that Marjy or her -aunt had circulated the report, and he was furious over it. - -A little reflection caused him to change his mind about leaving: “I have -done no wrong, and I will not run! If they think to drive me away by -that scheme, they will get left, that’s all!” said he grimly. Meanwhile -some one told Marjy that _she_ heard that “Henry and Marjy had stolen -money from her auntie, and had intended to elope; that Auntie Nelson had -caught them before they could get out of the street door; she took the -money from Henry, and forbid him the house. It isn’t true is it, dear?” -concluded she. - -Marjy astonished the gossip by such an outburst of temper as frightened -her out of the house, after which she locked herself in her own chamber, -to sob and cry for the rest of the day. Everything was as miserable as -it was possible to be; Marjy would go out no more in daylight, but after -nightfall, with a heavy veil over her face, she would steal out for a -walk as though she were some guilty thing. - -One night as she passed Henry’s room she paused and looked up at the -window; he sat beside a small table on which was placed a lamp, his head -bowed upon his arms in an attitude of despair; he raised his face, the -change and melancholy look filled Marjy’s heart with grief. He arose -wearily and began pacing to and fro. Marjy dropped her face in her hands -and sobbed bitterly; the moon, which had been under a cloud, came out a -flood of silver radiance; Marjy leaning against a low railing on the -opposite side of the street, was, unconsciously to herself, in the full -glow. - -“Marjy! Marjy!” called a voice softly. - -She started in affright; but Henry caught her hands, and held them fast. - -“Marjy, Marjy, my pet, don’t cry!” - -She made him no answer, but sobbed hysterically in his arms. - -“What is it, Marjy, is there more trouble?” he asked, feeling—as most -men do in the presence of a woman’s tears—perfectly helpless. - -“No! no! There doesn’t need be more trouble! There isn’t any happiness -left; auntie is so cross and suspicious—she suspects you, me, and even -herself; for whole days at a time she doesn’t speak, and if I take a -book to read she looks at me as reproachfully as though I were doing -some wrong thing; if I look sad she says—she says—I am mourning over a -thief, and that makes me mad, because I know it isn’t true!” she -finished excitedly. - -“God bless you, Marjy! That is the first bit of comfort I have received -since that miserable night,” he answered. - -“How could you imagine that I would think you guilty of such a thing?” -reproachfully. - -“How happens it that you are out so late at night?” he asked -irrelevantly. - -“I cannot go out in daytime, people say such awful things about us that -it makes me ashamed;” sobbing hysterically. “When I saw you looking so -despondent it just broke my heart.” - -“Oh, my dear, don’t cry!” helplessly. - -She smiled at him through her tears: “Well, I will not, you have enough -to bear as it is; but why were you so sad to-night?” - -He put his hand under her chin, lifting up her face: “First, and -greatest; I thought I had lost that which was dearest to me of aught on -earth; I thought that you believed me guilty of taking that money, as -you both said repeatedly that I was the only one who knew that accursed -combination—and do you know, Marjy, that I can no more get it out of my -mind than I can fly. By day and night it haunts me until I am very near -insane. I see it before me like sparks of fire; I heard it iterated, and -reiterated, and nothing that I can do rids me of the torture; frightful -or grotesque pictures are formed, from the midst of which your aunt’s -face looks out at me with wide-open, reproachful eyes.” - -A shudder swept over him at the remembrance; he drew her into closer -embrace, and said, “Little comforter! It is sweet to know that you have -faith in me, when friends and clients are deserting me; some one is -busily reporting the whole affair, with numerous embellishments;” after -a moment’s pause, he continued: “Do you think that auntie would spread -the report?” - -“Oh, no! No matter what she may say to me, she would not breathe a word -of it to others. I must return to the house, or someone will see us -talking, and there will be more reports,” added Marjy laughingly. They -parted with many fond words, and Marjy went home happier than she had -been in many a day. This was but one of many meetings. - -Aunt Hattie’s whole mental attitude seemed changed; nothing is more true -than that we have very little knowledge of ourselves; many traits lie -dormant until circumstances call them out; hidden dogs that scenting -prey hurry forward in restless chase. Auntie had ever been trusting to a -singular degree; but now she had become suspicious of everyone, and when -Marjy went out two or three nights in succession, she regarded her -distrustingly. “I do wonder now, if Marjy goes out to meet that fellow! -Probably they are planning that they will have a good time with that -money. Oh, dear! I wish that miserable roll of bills had been burned, it -wouldn’t have given me half as much trouble; it is the uncertainty that -vexes me so!” - -It is often quoted as an adage, “out of people’s mouths we must judge -them.” I shall certainly have to differ with the wise old proverb maker, -though as a rule he is right; sometimes people say the opposite of what -they mean; most certainly Aunt Hattie did, when she accused either Henry -or Marjy of using the money. The fact was that she was in a state of -aggravating uncertainty; she had no actual opinion, being in a condition -of endless surmise, and consequent irritability, which must have an -outlet. - -That night her suspicions were so wrought up that she followed Marjy, -and witnessed the loving meeting of the two; she caught a sound of their -low-toned conversation, although she could not distinguish their words. -She was in precisely that frame of mind to imagine that everything was -intended as an injury to her; she rushed at them, crying and scolding -incoherently. - -Marjy in an agony of shame tried to appease her, but in vain. Windows -were hastily thrown up all along the street: “Oh, auntie, do come home! -All the neighbors are listening; auntie! auntie! Just think of the -comments!” - -Auntie gave a frightened glance at the many opened windows, and at a man -hurrying toward them; gossip over her affairs had been the great bugaboo -of her life; she regained command of herself instantly. The man was -rapidly approaching them, his face alive with curiosity; just as he was -on the point of speaking to them, auntie sank to the ground with a groan -and burst into loud weeping. - -Marjy gave Henry a frightened glance, and turned to auntie in the -greatest distress. Auntie cried out shrilly: “Lift me up, Henry! Marjy, -do get hold on the other side. Oh, dear! Oh, dear. My poor ankle, I know -that it is broken!” and with much groaning and crying she allowed -herself to be carried into the house. No sooner had the street door -closed behind them than auntie straightened up and said laughingly: -“There, I think my ankle is all right now, and those old gossips have -missed a treat!” - -She was so elated over the affair that she seemed more like herself than -for a long time; but as a sequence Marjy could go out no more, -unaccompanied by her aunt. Auntie gave Henry a frigid invitation, but he -seldom came to the house, and when he did so wore a preoccupied and -uncomfortable air; auntie was often disagreeable, and Marjy unhappy and -despondent. - -About this time a cousin of Marjy’s, James Jordan, came to visit Auntie -Nelson; he was not long in discovering that things were in an unpleasant -condition. He formed a great liking for Henry, who on the contrary was -very jealous of James. Marjy went to places of amusement, and was -frequently out riding with him; cousin James was consulted upon all -occasions. Marjy had no wrong intention in so doing; she thought of him -merely as her cousin, and was glad of anything that eased the tension -under which they seemed to be living. Henry had become so hypersensitive -that he shrank from everything. He often answered James with absolute -incivility, to which he only returned some laughing answer; he -understood the situation very well, and heartily sympathized with the -lovers. - -One evening they had gathered around the table in auntie’s room; several -new magazines lay scattered about, one of which James had been reading. -Henry was unusually silent and depressed; his business had steadily -decreased, and more than one taunt had been leveled at him; he had ever -been proud of his integrity, and scorned all things debasing—as all -dishonesty whether of word or deed must be—and the annoyance had -developed a nervous restlessness which prevented sleep, and left him -worn, haggard and miserable. - -James looked up from the book which he had been reading and said, “What -do you think about hypnotism? I have been reading this article, and am -very much impressed, as well as interested by it.” - -The question was addressed to no one in particular, but Henry took it -up, and answered roughly: “I think it is a lot of bosh!” - -James replied pleasantly: “I don’t know that it is, though it may be so. -We know that there are subtleties of the mind which we do not -understand, and I do not see why there should not be the same amount of -force in the higher power of man as in the physical; great feats, either -of mind or muscle, are but the result of training; we think because we -do not understand that to which we have scarcely given a thought—much -less investigated—that it cannot be true; we have no right to cry ‘wolf’ -until we—at least—uncover our eyes.” - -Henry lifted up his face, a strange eagerness in his voice as he said, -“Do you then believe that you could unconsciously to me force me to do -that which is against my will?” - -“No, indeed! The hypnotic has no will; it is the will of the hypnotizer -working through him. I believe that the hypnotizer may not even be -positive as to a knowledge of his own power—merely a half-consciousness, -a way in which one’s thoughts at times move—like the shadow of a -fast-sailing summer cloud. Of course to be so easily influenced, the -subject must be of a yielding, plastic temperament; it is as though the -operator sent a portion of his own soul on a brief visit into the body -of the hypnotized.” - -A half-frightened look flashed over Henry’s countenance—and was -instantly gone; he cried out roughly: “I don’t believe it! I don’t -believe it!” He wiped the perspiration from his face with a trembling -hand. James laughed at his vigorous protest, and affected not to see the -emotion which lay behind it, so he answered lightly: “No compulsion -about it, this is just a case of leave it, or take it, as you -please—which does not alter the fact that we have many forces within us -of which we are in ignorance,” he replied quietly. - -“Well, all I have to say is this, I wish that I had the power to get one -good night’s rest. I think that hypnotism would be a blessing, if it -were the means of securing it to me; I lie awake half the night to think -and worry, and at last fall asleep and dream it all over again, -intensified a thousand times, and aggravated by something, which each -night persistently occurs, and which I try all day to recall to memory; -at times I just touch the border—it is like trying to grasp the luminous -tail of a comet—it is but empty air.” He suddenly paused, evidently -annoyed that he had been betrayed into an expression of his feelings. -James sat up, instantly interested: “Can you not concentrate your mind, -and thus trace the sequence of that which you do remember? Is it a -dream—or—or——” - -“It is nothing! I tell you it is nothing!” said Henry testily. - -James said no more, but he knew that there was something which Henry -either could not, or would not explain. Later, as Henry was starting for -home, James laid his hand on his shoulder and said, “I think I will go -home with you, and we will have a quiet smoke together, it will soothe -your nerves, and perhaps you will sleep better.” - -At first Henry shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and made a movement -as though he would jerk away from his detaining hand; but as James -continued speaking he seemed to change his mind, and said slowly: “Very -well! I do not often smoke, but perhaps it would quiet my nerves.” Aunt -Hattie bade him a very crusty good-night; she had been very sarcastic, -and ill-natured all the evening; it seemed to make her angry if either -Marjy or Henry showed any enjoyment; she seemed equally angry if they -sat silent and unhappy. - -“Oh, auntie, you ought not to be so ill-natured!” said Marjy after they -had gone. - -“Oh, of course, I am the one to blame! If I lost everything I possess on -earth, I ought to keep right on smiling—I should like to know what James -went home with Henry for? some scheming, I suppose!” she harped upon -these two strings until it was very trying. - -James locked his arm in Henry’s, talking pleasantly, Henry replying -absently as though he but half-comprehended. - -As I have said his rooms were in the front part of the house; he pulled -down the blinds, and lighted a lamp with a soft, rose-colored shade, and -threw himself into an easy-chair with an air of great weariness. James -seated himself at his right side, but with his chair so turned that he -could watch Henry’s face. He led him gently on, until, before he -realized what he was doing, he was pouring all his distress and grief -into his companion’s ear, in a low, dreamy tone, an aggrieved quiver -running through his voice. - -“Can you explain what it is that haunts your mind—you remember that you -spoke of it this evening?” questioned James. - -The trouble deepened in his eyes, and his voice took on a more fretful -tone: “I do not know, I tell you the truth, I do not know—but it is -something about that combination, and—Aunt Hattie; sometimes I can -almost see it; but before I can quite grasp it, it is gone. I believe -that I shall go insane, if I cannot get the thing off my mind.” - -James reached over and laid his hand on the other’s shoulder -affectionately: “Don’t worry, old fellow! It will all come out right! -Did you ever try to bring the vision before you by concentrating your -mind upon the fragment which you seem to catch—not at first trying to -get any further—and thus ascertain how much of the shadow you can make -real? When you have proved that the haunting remembrance is not wholly -illusory, you can then step by step trace back to that which evades you. -Henry obediently rested his head on the cushion, and drew a long breath -or two like a tired sigh. - -“Well, what do you see?” asked James eagerly. - -He answered in the tone of a child repeating its lesson: “I see a bright -light—” he started up excitedly: “I cannot see anything beyond except a -moving shadow—Oh! It is myself that I see!” his voice expressive of -intense surprise. - -“Yes? What are you doing?” James asked, trembling with excitement. - -“Standing in the middle of the room, repeating the combination -aloud—over and over again, making Aunt Hattie repeat it after me.” - -“Where is Aunt Hattie?” - -“In her sitting room.” - -“How do you see this?” - -“It is like a picture! This is that which has eluded me for days—I see -it plainly now.” - -“Repeat the scene just as it has been enacted before.” - -Henry slowly arose from his chair, and walked to the center of the room; -here he paused undecidedly. - -“Well, what is wrong?” - -Very slowly he answered, “I do not know—I—do—not—know.” - -James looked puzzled; at last he asked: “Do you mean that you cannot do -again that which you have before accomplished—that some peculiar -condition is wanting?” - -Henry merely repeated helplessly, “I—do—not—know; it is all dark! I -cannot find—Aunt—Hattie!” in tone of great distress. - -James looked perplexed: “Sit down in your chair,” he said. Henry obeyed, -and presently James awoke him; he stretched out his arms, yawning -sleepily. “I feel awfully tired, suppose we go to bed!” Evidently he had -no remembrance of the hypnotic sleep. - -They at once retired; Henry sank immediately into a profound slumber, -but James lay for a long time troubling over an idea which had taken -possession of his mind. He did not believe Henry guilty of stealing the -money, but he believed that he was shielding the person who did take it. -Could it be Marjy? The thought made the cold sweat start out on his -face; the next instant, when he remembered Marjy’s frank eyes as she -appealed to him to try his hypnotic power over Henry, he felt ashamed of -the thought; her idea was merely to tease Henry for his strenuous -opposition to it, if he could be made to succumb to the influence; but -James had an altogether different idea, which he did not mention; as I -have said, he believed that Henry knew more about the money than he -professed to know. Now, after his experiment, he was completely at a -loss; he could form no opinion. He was surprised that he found him so -easy a subject; it was perhaps owing to his mental depression, and -consequent relaxation of will power. - -James had said to Marjy that afternoon, “Perhaps Henry did take the -money!” - -“I know that he did not!” she answered hotly. - -“How do you know that?” - -“Just because I do know; I cannot explain how I know, but I know it!” - -James, watching the flush in her cheek, was thinking how becoming a -touch of anger was to her, but he laughed gayly as he replied: “Woman’s -reason; logical of course; just because!” - -This returned to him as he lay there too perplexed to sleep. “She is -right about it; he did not take the money, or else he would have -betrayed it; and this knocks my theory all to pieces, as well; he would -have told if he knew who did take it. Confound the whole business! What -is it to me, that I should worry over it?” He turned restlessly in the -bed, trying to get to sleep. - -Presently Henry began to mutter. James grumbled at this fresh annoyance. -“I had best have stayed at home,” he said. - -Henry lifted himself upon his elbow, whispering rapidly. - -“That confounded combination!” exclaimed James in disgust, as he turned -over to look at Henry; he caught his breath in surprise. - -Slowly, slowly Henry arose, his lips moving rapidly, as a child repeats -its lesson to impress it upon his mind. His eyes were widely opened, but -with a curious introverted look; he stepped slowly forward, a look of -concentration on his ghastly features; he walked to the center of the -room exactly where he had before stood; there he paused as though -listening: “Aunt Hattie! Aunt Hattie!” he called clearly and distinctly; -although the tone was very low, as one speaks who is desirous of being -heard by none save the person addressed. - -James jumped out of bed, bringing his hands together softly. “I wonder -if it is possible!” he cried, quivering with excitement; he hurried on -his clothes and fairly flew down the stairs, and let himself into Aunt -Hattie’s house. - -As he passed the sitting room he cautiously pushed aside the -_portières_. Aunt Hattie was on her knees before the safe, repeating the -combination in almost exactly the tone in which Henry had spoken. James -dashed up the stairs and knocked softly at Marjy’s door. - -“Who’s there?” she called in a frightened tone. - -“It’s I, James; open the door, Marjy; do not be frightened, but hurry!” -Marjy opened the door as requested. - -“Oh, what is it?” her voice trembling. - -“Nothing which need frighten you. I have found the thief, come!” - -Marjy had not disrobed, but was lying on the bed reading, and -immediately followed him. He hastily whispered an explanation as they -hurried down the stairs; in conclusion he said: “Now, I want you to -watch auntie, and see just what she does; I will go back and watch -Henry’s movements; he appears like a sleep walker, and auntie seems to -be hypnotized. It’s a queer performance, take it as you will.” - -Marjy was white and trembling; half afraid, and wholly excited. They -drew aside the draperies, auntie had all the papers contained in the -safe on the floor, and was now rummaging in every corner as though -searching for some missing thing; muttering, muttering to herself all -the time. - -James hurried back to Henry’s rooms, and left Marjy breathlessly -watching Aunt Hattie, who was carefully gathering up the scattered -papers, and putting them back in their several places; she then closed -and locked the safe. - -“Oh!” breathed Marjy, in keen disappointment; she had surely thought -that she should know where the money was, and her disappointment was -great. She was about to turn away and go to her room, she felt so vexed, -when her steps were arrested by hearing her aunt say—as though replying -to some person: - -“Yes, I will! I forgot—Oh, yes! All right!” and with a quick decided -step she walked across the room to a great easy-chair; this she -carefully turned upon its side; removed one of the casters, and pulled -some bills out of the cavity; she appeared to count them carefully, -after which she replaced them, putting the caster in the socket as it -belonged. Each one was examined in turn, then with a sigh the chair was -placed in its proper position and she sank into its depths with the -audible words: “Yes, Henry; it is all right!” - -Marjy shivered with superstitious awe; silence unbroken reigned save for -the ticking of the clock, and the breathing of Aunt Hattie, as she lay -back in the chair looking strangely cadaverous. - -James quietly let himself into Henry’s room; he still stood like a -specter in the middle of the floor; the red glow of the lamp cast a -weird light over his pale features, his expression was fixed and intent; -his face was turned slightly sidewise, and he held up one hand as one -who listens intently: “Yes, that is right; place everything as you found -it, and go to your bed!” As he ceased speaking he turned toward his own -bed, rested a moment on its edge, then lay down, and drew the covers -over himself as though just retiring; he was soon breathing deeply, and -like one in natural slumber. - -James threw himself into a chair, and slowly puffed a cigar and thought; -finally he arose and yawning stretched his limbs. “I’ll see if Marjy has -retired; I think I understand this queer tangle, but I’m blest if I -understand how to straighten it out!” - -He quietly let himself out of the house, and as quietly entered auntie’s -front door; Marjy met him in the hall, and drew him into the sitting -room. - -“Where is auntie?” he asked. - -“Gone to her bed; do tell me what happened in Henry’s room!” she said -eagerly. She sat looking at him wide-eyed and wondering, while he -related all that had occurred. - -“Well, tell me, what do you think of it?” she questioned. - -He thoughtfully rolled his cigar in his fingers for a few minutes before -replying. “I do not quite know; Henry was certainly asleep. Now the -question is just this; could he hypnotize your aunt at such a distance, -himself being in a somnambulistic state?” - -“I do not think that he is conscious of possessing hypnotic power,” said -Marjy. - -“No, he would doubtless be indignant if one suggested such a thing; but -he certainly has that power, and really, I cannot see why he could not -use the force just as well in that state as though awake, so long as his -mind intelligently directed it; the will power is just as strong as at -any time.” - -“It is all very strange! Now that we know where the money is, what are -we to do about it?” - -“I suppose the proper thing to do would be to tell Aunt Hattie all about -to-night’s free show!” and he laughed at the recollection. - -“I should really be afraid to tell Aunt Hattie; in her present mood -there is no saying what she would, or would not do,” said Marjy. - -James replied thoughtfully: “That is true; we had best sleep over it; we -will talk it over again in the morning.” - -James did not return to Henry’s room, he wished to be alone, that he -might better solve the problem which confronted him. - -He arose the following morning tired, worn out with sleeplessness, and -no nearer a solution than when he retired. - -Auntie was in a terrible ill humor, the atmosphere seemed surcharged -with discord; throughout the whole day everything seemed to go amiss. -Marjy was burning with a desire to tell her aunt, alternated with a -shivering fear of her disbelief, and consequent sarcastic remarks. James -made a vain endeavor to see Henry; no one knew his whereabouts all day; -late in the evening he came to the house, looking pale and dispirited. -Marjy clasped his hand in cordial greeting; this elicited an angry -ejaculation from Aunt Hattie, beyond which she gave no sign that she -knew of his presence. - -James and Marjy sat looking over some stereoptic views to cover their -desire to watch the two, and both were trying to find a suitable -opportunity to bring up the subject of the lost money, so as to be able -to explain how they came by their knowledge of the hiding place. The -attitude of both Henry and auntie was such as to discourage a -commencement. At last James wrote on a card: “You will have to tell -them; I will corroborate your account.” - -Marjy replied: “Oh, I cannot. It makes me shiver to think of it; they -both look so forbidding.” - -Henry sat on the corner of a sofa, with his eyes fixed intently on Aunt -Hattie; they did not observe this until she arose and stood beside her -chair as though waiting; her lips were moving rapidly but inaudibly. -Henry, still looking fixedly at her, said slowly: “Speak aloud!” She -began repeating the combination, and step by step went through the -performance of the previous night, until she had taken the money from -its hiding place. Henry at that moment, pale and resolute—though -trembling with excitement—commanded her to awaken. - -It was most pitiable to see her when she realized her situation; the -overturned chair; the casters lying on the floor; the bills grasped in -her shaking hands; Marjy and James silently regarding her; Henry, with a -look of exhaustion on his face, lay back among the dark cushions. At -first she was utterly bewildered; then, as she looked at the bills -grasped in her hands, a ray of joy, quickly succeeded by anger, gave her -voice: “You think you are awful smart, don’t you? Playing tricks on an -old woman! I should like to know what you have been doing to me!” she -stormed; then looking at the open safe, and the bills in her hand she -began to sob weakly. - -“Don’t cry, auntie, it is all right!” said Marjy soothingly. - -“No, no! It isn’t right! I remember now—of hiding that money; and to -think that I have accused Henry and you of taking it—Oh, dear! Oh, -dear!” sobbed she; “I did not remember it until now!” she wailed -disconsolately. - -Henry came and laid his hand upon her shoulder: “Do not fret, auntie; I -think there is no one to blame, if so, it must be my fault. I have -always been a somnambulist, and always been ashamed of it—as though I -could help it; but I had no idea that I possessed any hypnotic power; in -fact I did not believe in the existence of such a force—at least I did -not wish to believe it—which in all probability is just what led to this -occurrence. You remember that we were speaking of hypnotism the night of -the disappearance of the money; Marjy defended the theory, and I opposed -it in order to draw her out; some assertions which she made struck me as -being very forcible, and I could not rid myself of the thoughts -engendered, any more than I could get rid of the repetition of that -combination. It has been like a nightmare to me, and each day there had -been a shadow of some occurrence of the past night which has -persistently evaded me. I have been haunted all this day by something -which occurred last night, which seemed like a vivid dream, and I -thought I would put it to the test. You cannot be more surprised at the -result than I am.” - -James and Marjy now came forward: “I think that Marjy and I will also -have to make confession; I think that your being able to recall a -portion of last night’s events was due to the slight influence which I -gained over you; I tried to impress it upon your mind that you must -remember what occurred, but I thought that I had failed completely.” He -then made a complete explanation, which Marjy fully corroborated. Auntie -laughed and sobbed in the same breath: “I’ve been an old crank; but the -uncertainty worried me so that I could not help it—and my part of the -general confession is that a sense of knowledge—which I could not -grasp—tormented me continually, but I would not have confessed it for -twice that amount of money. However, “All’s well that ends well.” Marjy, -you may have the money to buy a wedding trousseau, and when Henry is my -nephew I trust that he will not hypnotize his old aunt, either when he -is sleeping or waking.” - - - - - HIS FRIEND. - - -The two log cabins stood on the grassy slopes of opposite mountains, the -dark piñons forming a picturesque background; a babbling brook ran -between the two, a boundary line of molten silver. - -Sam Nesterwood’s door faced north, and Phil Boyd’s door looked south; -while they were building the cabins Phil remarked that it looked so much -more sociable that way. - -When Phil came out in the morning to plunge his wind-browned face into -the tin wash basin, filled with cold water from the stream below, he -usually saw Sam doing the same; or perhaps, taking the grimy towel off -the wooden peg just outside the door, with which he scrubbed his face, -and even the tiny bald spot on the top of his head, to a shiny red. - -Phil came out as usual one still October morning; the cottonwoods were -just turning a soft golden color—fairy gold—in a setting of dark green -and gray—autumn’s gorgeous mosaic. - -A chipmunk darted saucily by, and just beyond reach sat up chattering a -comical defiance; a lone bluebell nodded in the wind, swaying from side -to side seeking its vanished companions; blood-red leaves peeped out -from under dry grasses, or decked the sides of a gray bowlder. - -Phil looked cheerfully around; he snapped his fingers at the saucy -squirrel, and laughed at the blinking, black eyes; looking across at the -opposite cabin he bawled, “Hello, Sam!” - -“Hello yourself!” retorted Sam. This had been the morning salutation, -never varied, though all the summer months. Each evening after their -day’s work they met at one or the other cabin to compare rock; to talk -over a lucky strike, or the mishap of a mutual acquaintance, not that -much sympathy was expended or needed. - -“Jim’s claim has petered out; he’s out about six months’ work, and all -his money.” - -“You don’t say! Oh, well, Jim won’t stay broke very long; he’s a -hustler.” It was not from want of sympathy, but because of a confidence -begotten of this hard life, much as the sparrow might argue, “having -never wanted for food, I shall be always fed.” - -Later in the morning Phil climbed the steep trail which led to his claim -high upon the mountain side. The days were perceptibly growing shorter, -and it was quite dark when he came down this October evening. Halfway -down the trail he thought he heard a groan. - -His halting foot dislodged a stone, and sent it crashing down the -mountain side; the rushing sound of a night hawk overhead; the -melancholy hoot of an owl in the piñons; the bark of a coyote in the -distance, all seemed but to accentuate the silence. - -As I have said, night had fallen, coming suddenly, as it ever does in -the mountains; no dewy, tender twilight as in lower altitudes; the sun -hanging low in the western sky seems phantasm-like to drop behind the -distant peaks; a chill wind whistles through the piñons like a softly -sung dirge; darkness settles down like a pall—and it is night. - -Phil thought that he must be mistaken, and again started on his homeward -way; the groaning was repeated almost at his very feet. - -He searched vainly, but could find no person, nothing to account for the -sound. - -Dead silence had fallen again. Phil shivered, “This wind is mighty -cold!” he muttered, his hand shaking, his teeth inclined to chatter. He -took off his hat to wipe the perspiration from his brow, which had -gathered in great drops notwithstanding the chill wind; he cast a -furtive glance behind him; it was all so terribly uncanny. “Oh! O—h!” -came again at his very feet; he gave a frightened start, and an -involuntary ejaculation: “Great God!” then gathered himself together and -renewed his search, this time rewarded by finding Sam lying under the -shelter of a rock badly wounded. - -It was a hard task to carry him down that steep trail, and Phil said, -pityingly, many times, “It’s awful rough, pard, but there’s no help for -it.” - -He carried him into the cabin, and laying him on his bed, built a fire, -and with a touch gentle as that of a woman bathed and dressed his wound. - -He found that a bullet had plowed a ragged furrow down his leg, and -shattered the smaller bone halfway between the knee and the ankle. - -Phil had a little knowledge of surgery; these nomads of the hills are -often far from surgical aid, and of a necessity attain a degree of skill -in such matters. Having made his patient as comfortable as possible, -Phil lay down on the floor, rolled in a single blanket, to rest until -morning. - - * * * * * - -The autumn days crept by in drowsy calm—a stillness deeper and more sad -than in lower altitudes; the whistle of the late bird as he calls to his -mate to hasten their migration is unheard here; the shrill notes of the -cicada, which fills the autumn days in the moist, odorous woods is -unknown in these barren heights; the dry, stubbly bunch grass, the gray, -dusty sage brush harbors no insect life save an occasional lonely -cricket, and even these are strangely silent. No birds flit from tree to -tree save the magpies, with their gorgeous black and white plumage, and -their harsh discordant cries, and these are only seen along the streams. -An occasional hawk sails above the piñons in graceful curves, or darts -downward like an arrow shot from a bow. All else is silent and lifeless. - -The sun lies white and brilliant over all; the long shadows lie on the -gray ground as though painted there; the tiny streams hurry between -their rocky banks, as though in haste to get away from a too cloudless -sky. - -Long stretches of hills rise and fall away, dry, desolate and gray; a -weird loneliness and beauty lies over all—the grandeur of desolation. - -The leaves had fluttered down to the bare earth, and a few flakes of -snow had been tossed about by the nipping wind, ere Sam Nesterwood was -able to tell the story of his accident. He was riding up the trail to a -claim he thought of relocating; he considered the broncho he rode “all -right,” but some reminiscence of his forefathers, some prompting of the -wild blood which is never wholly subdued, must have possessed the -animal, for without the slightest warning, head down, back arched like -an angry cat, he bucked outrageously. - -Sam was too good a rider to be easily thrown, but the unexpected -movement threw his pistol from his belt; it struck the pommel of the -saddle, discharging its contents into his leg, and although it felt as -though red-hot iron tore through the flesh, he still retained his seat; -then he must have fainted, for he knew no more until near nightfall. -When consciousness returned he was lying on the ground; he felt chilled -through, and his limb was so stiff and sore that he could scarcely move. -He sought to get nearer to a large rock for shelter from the cold wind; -it had by this time grown quite dusk, and beneath the rock was so dark -that he could not see, thus he rolled into the hole beneath, where Phil -found him. - -During all the time of Sam’s illness, Phil each day climbed the rugged -trail to work for a neighboring miner, letting his own assessment work -wait, while he earned the money to pay doctor’s bills, buy medicines, -supply Sam with books to read, and delicacies to tempt his appetite. -Phil denied himself all but the barest subsistence. Sam smoked cigars, -read books, and ate the most expensive delicacies, as though such things -were no more than his right. - -Thus affairs went on until near the beginning of February. Sam was -practically well, but he made no effort to get about. - -Phil had bought a great easy-chair for him in the first stages of his -convalescence, and he sat in the coziest corner, and piled the fireplace -high with wood, although Phil had to “snake” it more than half a mile -down the steep mountain side. - - * * * * * - -It was a bitter night; the wind blew bleak over the hills, driving the -little snow that had fallen before it, so many needle like points, which -left the face stinging with pain. Just at nightfall it had grown warmer, -and the scudding clouds began to drop their fleecy burden, a fairy -mantle over all the rugged hills. - -Phil came home covered with snow, his long mustache ridiculously -lengthened by icicles, his eyebrows white as those of Father Time. - -He set his lunch pail down moodily, and shook himself much as a spaniel -shakes the water from his shaggy coat; he threw himself on a bench -before the fire with a tired sigh; and rested his elbows on his knees, -his chin dropped in his upturned palms. - -Sam shivered as some of the flying particles of snow struck him. - -“Can’t you be a little more careful; you’ll give me my death of cold -yet!” he grumbled. - -“I did not intend to wet you,” answered Philip very gently, not changing -his position. - -“You must be down in the dumps! What is the matter with you?” said Sam -irritably. - -This habit of half-grumbling and fault-finding had become so common with -Sam that Phil made no reply. After a minute’s silence, he began again: - -“Aren’t we going to have any supper to-night? It’s most infernal -monotonous sitting here alone all day with nothing to read, and not even -a square meal.” - -Phil arose wearily, and began laying the cloth on the table; soon the -bacon was sizzling merrily, the teakettle bumping the lid up and down -for very joy, and the fragrance of coffee filled the room. - -Phil took from the box nailed against the wall a small dish of peaches, -a couple of slices of cake, and a little cheese, which he put beside -Sam’s plate. - -“Supper is ready,” said he gravely. - -Sam arose lazily, and Phil wheeled his easy-chair up to the table; then -poured out the coffee, and drew up his own rough bench. He offered a -slice of the bacon to Sam, before helping himself. - -“No,” said Sam testily, “I’m tired of bacon. I hate the very smell of -it. I do wish I could have something decent to eat!” - -Phil made no reply, but ate his bread and bacon, and drank his coffee in -silence. Sam leaned back in his chair, his head resting on the cushion, -and looked at Phil from under half-closed eyelids. “Your countenance is -an appetizer! You are about as cheerful as a tombstone!” a curious -anxiety underlying his sneering tone. - -As Phil did not reply, he continued: “Can’t you open your clam shell, -and spit out your grievance? I suppose I have offended your saintship in -some way, ’though what I’ve done except to stay all alone and put up -with all sorts of discomforts is more than I know,” the questioning tone -in the first part of his speech shading off into a sullen grumbling -toward the end. - -Phil lifted his gloomy face. - -“I have given you no reason for that kind of talk; I can’t grin very -much when some galoot has jumped my claim,” he replied slowly. - -“You don’t say! Who the deuce——” - -“The name marked on the new stake is Jim Redmond, but that don’t count -much,” answered Phil despondently. - -“I suppose you think I’d be sneak enough to do it,” retorted Sam, the -strange, questioning look deepening in his eyes. - -“Oh, come off, Sam! What is the use of talking that kind of stuff? I’m -not quite so suspicious as that; why, you haven’t been up the trail in -months,” answered Phil, with a kindly look. - -“No; and my name is not Jim Redmond; but you ought to have done your -assessment work; you can’t very well blame him, whoever he may be.” - -“No; p’raps not,” said Phil slowly, and it seemed somewhat doubtingly; -then he added: “What makes me sore is that it was looking so good. Well, -there’s no use in wearing mourning, I suppose;” and he tried to laugh -cheerfully. After supper, notwithstanding the inclemency of the night -Phil trudged patiently the long six miles into town, that Sam might have -the coveted books, and a tender steak for his breakfast. - -Sam evinced no desire to return to his own cabin; on the contrary he -said, in his peculiarly soft tones, “I guess we’d better finish the -winter together, hadn’t we, Phil? I’m not very strong yet, and one fire -will do for both; of course I’ll put up my share of the grub.” - -“Oh, that’s all right; I’m glad of your company,” replied Phil. - -Sam must have considered his company a sufficient compensation, for he -contributed nothing toward the expense of living; he took the most and -the best of everything; the choicest of the food; the only chair; the -warmest corner of the fireplace; and the only good bed. If he ever saw -Phil’s self denial, he made no sign. If Phil ever thought him selfish, -he did not show it; that which he gave he gave royally. - -One evening Phil came in from work; it was bitter cold; the stars -snapped and twinkled; the frost showed a million glittering points in -the white moonlight; the ground cracked like tiny pistol shots; the wind -whistled shrilly, and cut like a whiplash. - -Phil shook himself, and threw off his cap and coat: - -“This is a scorcher and no mistake,” he stretched out his hands basking -in the warmth. - -Sam had hovered over the fire all day, reading. He leaned back in his -chair, a tantalizing light in his eyes. - -“You’ve been working the Mollie Branscome,” he asserted, rather than -asked. - -Phil nodded his head. Sam continued: “I say, Phil, is Mollie Branscome -your sweetheart, that you named your claim after her?” - -Phil colored painfully, but after a minute he replied dryly: “It must be -information you’re seekin’; I wasn’t aware that it concerned anyone but -myself.” - -Sam laughed sneeringly. - -“Awful close with your little romance!” - -To Phil it was a romance; and in giving the name to his claim he but -obeyed the impulse to have it ever on his lips. “Mollie,” his manner of -speaking it was ever a caress. - -Sam laughed, and passed the remark off as a joke. - -One day Sam brought Phil a letter from his old father, asking him to -come home, as he was very ill and wished to see him once more before he -died. Phil turned the letter over thoughtfully, and Sam hastened to say: -“I tried to get on to the horse, and he jumped sideways and dumped the -whole pile of mail into the dirt; it’s an awful mess, but I couldn’t -help it,” apologetically. - -“Oh ’t wasn’t that! but the old man’s writing don’t look natural. I am -afraid he is pretty bad.” He pulled his mustache thoughtfully for a few -minutes. - -“I don’t just see how I can manage it. I have just about money enough to -get there, but none to return,” said he. - -Sam leaned back in his chair, blowing a long cloud of smoke -meditatively. Finally he said: “I had an offer for the Little Darling -this morning; you go, if you want to, and I’ll make the deal, and send -you a fifty; you can pay it after you come back.” - -Phil’s face lit up with a pleasant smile. - -“Sam, it’s awful good of you!” he exclaimed impulsively. - -“Oh, I’m always willing to do a favor when I can,” nonchalantly, seeming -to be utterly forgetful of all that Phil had done for him; unmindful -that at this very moment he was smoking Phil’s tobacco, warming himself -at Phil’s fire, and this moment contemplating the eating of the food of -Phil’s providing. His manner of speaking would imply that this was but -one more of many benefits of his conferring. - -As Phil was leaving to go to his father, Sam said: - -“I’ll take good care of everything for you.” - -“All right! thanks, and good-by!” called Phil heartily. - -Phil’s father was very much surprised to see him; no message had been -sent; and he was well but none the less glad to see Phil. - -Phil wrote to Sam at once, but as he received no reply wrote again and -again. - -He did not need money, as his father had given him more than enough, but -he feared that some ill had befallen his friend. - -As Phil left the stagecoach on his return home, three months later, he -at once sought Mollie; he had received no letter from her during his -absence, although he had repeatedly written. He knocked, and Mollie -herself opened the door. Phil reached out his hand in glad greeting; she -drew back coldly. - -“Is there anything you wish, sir?” as she would address a stranger. - -Phil’s face flushed hotly, then went deadly pale. He looked at her -reproachfully. - -“I think not,” he replied sadly, as he turned away. - -With natures such as these a tragedy may occur unobserved by the -bystander. - -To Phil the sun seemed to have set, all looked so dark and gloomy. As he -swung off over the lonely mountain trail, the gurgling water in the -brook below seemed to mock him; the scent of the springing vegetation -caused a feeling of irritation, his heart was so full of bitter -disappointment. - -Lonely and more lonely grew the way; no life save himself, he just a -dark speck upon that yellow trail crawling up the mountain side. Even -his panting breath seemed to disturb the dead calm, as he paused—taking -off his hat—to look up to his cabin. He shaded his eyes, and looked -eagerly. Only a blackened spot marked where his home—humble, but still a -home—had stood. He looked higher up the side of the mountain to where -the Mollie Branscome lay; he drew his breath sharply; where he had left -a windlass and bucket, a frame shafthouse arose. The sharp spurt of -steam rising on the fast chilling air denoted a perfectly set valve; he -saw hurrying forms of men at work; he shut his teeth hard together, a -fiery red spot rising in either cheek. He felt neither fatigue nor -depression now; he breathed stertoriously as he toiled up the steep -trail. - -Sam was the first person that he met. - -Phil pointed to a name above the shafthouse door: “The New Discovery.” -“What does that mean?” he demanded hoarsely. - -“What’s it to you?” answered Sam derisively. - -Poor Phil! His blood seemed on fire. The sneer; the taunting look; it -was like letting a brilliant light shine into a dark place; he knew by -that ‘sixth sense,’ intuition, all the treachery of this false friend. -He knew who had sent him upon a fool’s errand; he knew who had stolen -his first claim, and had some accomplice mark the stake in a false name; -a memory of his systematic sponging for more than half a year goaded him -to madness; many, very many acts, before unconsidered, came to his mind -fraught with meaning. The veins on his forehead stood out like purple -cord, and he made a wild lunge at Sam. Sam turned to run; he stepped on -a rolling stone and went down helplessly; he lay there glaring up at -Phil, fear and vindictive hatred strangely blent in his gaze. - -Phil stood over him like an avenger: - -“So! You thought to rob me of this claim as you did of the other, did -you?” his voice quivering hoarsely. - -“You’ve got me down, now strike me!” answered Sam, his eyes glaring -wildly, his teeth showing like those of a wild animal. “Yes, I did jump -your claim; and I’ve got the papers to show for the Mollie Branscome; -the Mollie Branscome! You thought you were awful sly, but I jumped that -claim too; your letters to her put me on. She thinks you went East to -marry your old love; _we_ are going to be married to-morrow night!” he -cried tauntingly; he seemed to have gone insane with rage. - -As Phil listened to him the fierce anger died out of his face, and -contempt took its place; but he only ejaculated: - -“You contemptible cur!” as he stepped back and folded his arms. - -The workmen had gathered about, and stood in silent amazement; their -looks seemed to anger Sam still more, and he continued his insane -taunting: - -“Oh, you wanted me to take care of your things, didn’t you? I took care -of them, oh, yes!” and he thrust his tongue in his cheek derisively. - -He had risen to his feet by this time, and stood leaning his back -against the shafthouse. Phil stood a minute without speaking, pity -struggling with contempt in his heart; finally he said slowly, and -without a trace of anger: - -“Well! You’re slopping over pretty freely. If you burned my cabin -thinking to destroy my papers, you got left; I took them with me, and -you must have forgotten that they are recorded. As to the other affair -which you have tangled with your dirty fingers, I think that I can -straighten that out all right. You are too contemptible to whip, but I -advise you to make yourself scarce.” - -“I believe he did burn that cabin, because no one has ever been inside -of _his_ shack since the fire; probably he has some things there that -he’d rather not have seen. I always thought that things looked mighty -queer,” said big Cal Wagner. - -“Let’s all quit work. I’ll not strike another stroke for the likes of -’im,” said Denny Colby. - -“Say, aren’t you the fellow that took care of this skunk when he was -hurt?” asked Cal. - -“Yes,” tersely replied Phil. - -“Well, you’d better git up and dust, you miserable apology for a man!” -cried Cal, indignantly turning to Sam. - -“And he made out that you had skipped the country, and that he bought -the claim, so that you needn’t go dead broke. If he don’t leave it’s a -necktie party we’ll be havin’!” added Denny Colby. - -“Oh, let him alone, boys; he isn’t worth the rope it would take to hang -him; upon my word I pity him, he is so _con_temptible that I don’t think -he can enjoy his own company,” drawled Phil lazily. - -Sam limped away unmolested, cursing wildly as far as they could hear -him. - -Phil turned from looking after him, and said to the men, “It makes me -feel pretty sore, but I guess that he feels worse’n I do,” he added -philosophically. After a few minutes he continued, “You might as well -knock off for the rest of the day, I don’t suppose he will give me any -trouble because he knows that I have the papers to prove my right. I’ll -square whatever wages is coming to you as soon as I get things in good -shape.” - -A hearty grasp of the hand, and a ready acquiescence sealed the compact. - -Phil swung himself down the mountain side in a much more joyous mood -than when ascending. - -He walked direct to Mollie’s house, and as before she opened the door; -she started in surprise and anger; he did not wait for her to speak, but -said in a determined tone, “You asked me this morning if there was -anything that I wished, and not understanding the circumstances I said -no; I have since learned some things which caused me to change my -mind—Mollie, would you condemn me unheard?” reaching out both hands. - -She, flushing and trembling, stood irresolute for one minute, then -placed her hands in his. - -“No, that would not be just; but why did you not write?” - -“I did write several times, but could get no reply from you.” - -“I wonder—” she commenced, but Phil cut the sentence short. - -“Were you going to marry Sam, Mollie?” - -“What an idea! That conceited thing!” answered Mollie indignantly. - -They had entered the little parlor, and Phil caught her in his arms and -said quizzically, “What about me?” - -Just what Mollie answered I had best not repeat, but it seemed to be -perfectly satisfactory, as he left the house an hour later, whistling as -happily as a boy. - - * * * * * - -Just after dark Sam hurried into town, cursing his lameness and Phil, -indiscriminately; he wanted to keep things square with Mollie, as he -expressed it. - -As he came near the house he observed that the little parlor was -brilliantly lighted; his heart filled with exultation: “I’ll bet Mollie -is expecting me! Let Phil keep his old claims; the girl is worth more -than all of them; it will hurt him most to lose her, too. Of course it -was all a lie about our going to be married; but I can get her all -right, you bet there isn’t many women but that I could get!” with a -ridiculous air of importance. - -He knocked confidently, and was at once ushered into the midst of a -number of guests. Coming as he did, from the darkness, the glare of the -lights blinded him; but as he advanced into the room, Cal Wagner said, -“We were waiting for you, sir. Please be seated.” - -Turning to the group near the center of the room, he continued, -“Reverend sir, this is the guest we were expecting; will you now proceed -with the ceremony.” - -Looking radiantly happy, Mollie and Phil took their places in front of -the minister, and the solemn marriage service commenced. - -Sam made a bolt for the door; but Cal’s great hand closed over his -shoulder like a vise, and he was compelled to stand and see his last -shred of revenge slip away from him, amid the happy smiles of those -around him. - -Then he crept out into the darkness, out of the ken of those who knew -him, blaming everybody but himself, yet at war with himself and all the -world, because he had not succeeded in ill-doing. - -Phil said to his wife: “I am sorry for him; I wish he had been content -to be my friend; I did like Sam.” - -Of course there was not the slightest opposition to Phil’s assuming -control of his own property, but his conscience troubled him because Sam -had built the shafthouse: “I had much rather have paid him for it,” he -remarked; but when later he learned that neither lumber nor labor were -paid for, and all bought upon his credit, he had no more regrets. - - - - - A TALE OF THE X RAY. - - -Christopher Hembold had a mania for experimenting. - -He had tried everything from hypnotism to electricity, when the “X” ray -was first talked about. He could think or talk of nothing else; he -perused every magazine and paper with greedy avidity in search of -articles concerning it. - -“Christopher, do put that paper down and eat your breakfast,” said his -wife. - -Mrs. Hembold was a nervous little woman, and it annoyed her to hear the -newspaper rattle, and she disliked to have it held so as to hide her -Christopher from view. - -“But, Maria, just listen, here’s more about that wonderful discovery—” -he exclaimed excitedly. - -“Christopher Hembold! Eat your breakfast! I care much more that the -steak and coffee are getting cold than I do for that nonsense.” - -“You have no sympathy, Maria; the mysteries of science are beyond your -appreciation!” he exclaimed, as he folded the paper in dignified -displeasure. - -“Appreciate fiddlesticks!” angrily retorted Maria, stirring her coffee -vigorously. - -Said Christopher, the next morning at the breakfast table: - -“Maria, I am going to Abbeyville on business, and shall in all -probability be detained a month.” - -“What business have you in Abbeyville?” asked Maria in surprise. - -“It is business of a private nature, which you wouldn’t understand,” -answered he loftily. - -“Which is a polite way of telling me that it is none of my business,” -retorted Maria in a huff. - -Christopher left the house in dignified anger; his portly figure and -handsome profile the admiration of his wrathful wife. The fact was, he -did not wish to talk; he had determined that he would investigate the -“X” ray to his own satisfaction. A certain idea haunted him by day, and -mingled with his dreams at night; it thrust itself between him and the -long columns in the ledger; until, with a finger on the figures, he -would fix his eyes on vacancy, and go off into a deep study. - -At last Mr. Brown, his employer, said to him: - -“What is the matter with you Christopher? Are you ill?” - -“No—yes—not very,” answered Christopher confusedly. - -“You had better take a layoff until you feel better,” said Brown; adding -mentally, “You are of no use here; you’ll mix those accounts until it -will take an expert a week to straighten them.” - -Christopher packed his grip with a sigh of satisfaction, and left home -on the evening train. - -Maria gave a little regretful sigh. “He might have kissed me; he didn’t -even say good-by.” - -She presently began thinking how preoccupied he looked, and how strange -he had acted. - -“I do wonder if he was in trouble! I ought not have been so cross, but -he should have told me; so there!” After a minute of troubled thought, -she added: “Perhaps he didn’t want to worry me.” - -Whenever Christopher was present she must give him a dig as often as the -opportunity occurred; but no sooner was he away than all his good -qualities became apparent. - -Instead of stopping at Abbeyville, Christopher hastened on to a city -more than a thousand miles away. “I’ll just call myself John Smith, and -I shall not be bothered while making my investigations,” said he -complacently. - -The next morning after his arrival he sought out the noted Professor -Blank, and at some length explained his project; in conclusion he said: - -“You understand that I wish to be cathodographed many times; the working -of the brain has always been a tantalizing puzzle to me. What I wish to -search out is, how the different emotions affect the gray matter; for -instance, it is claimed that this bump is combativeness;” placing his -hand on the region indicated. “It is also claimed that all qualities, -whether good or bad, are capable of being cultivated; that the bump -indicating that trait or quality grows perceptibly larger; well, then, -the substance known as gray matter must undergo a change; whenever that -emotion is unduly excited, the gray matter must quiver, vibrate; in fact -change position. Have you never felt as though your brain must burst -with the intensity of emotion? I have; and am eager to test it with the -‘X’ ray.” He paused as though for an answer, but receiving none, -continued: “Now in order to test this, I wish to subject myself to every -possible emotion, and in every change be photographed.” - -The professor smiled incredulously. - -“How are you to obtain these changes of mood? Such emotions usually come -without our choosing.” - -“True! Well, I shall endeavor to create the emotion as I wish it.” - -The professor laughed aloud. “I think under such conditions that the -emotion would be altogether too tame to have a visible effect on the -brain.” - -Christopher resented the laughter: “Perhaps you are not willing to -assist me in making my experiments?” he questioned angrily. - -“Oh, yes; perfectly willing,” was the smiling answer. - -“Now, look here! I wish to investigate this carefully, and I’m willing -and able to pay your price; but I’ll not be ridiculed sir, I’m no boy, -I’ll have you understand!” - -“No, of course not,” answered the professor soothingly, he thought him a -mild lunatic; really he seemed half insane; no matter what reply the -professor made, he grew more wroth, until he, out of all patience, said -angrily: “What is the matter with you? You act like a maniac!” - -“Quick! Quick! Photograph me!” cried Christopher, with livid lips. - -“Well, well!” exclaimed the professor in astonishment, as he hastily -complied with the request; after which Christopher sank back, pale and -trembling. - -The professor looked at him admiringly: “How did you accomplish it?” - -“Oh, I don’t know; I just let go of the strings;” smiling faintly. - -Thus he went through the whole scale of emotions; he was taken while -under the influence of anæsthetics; in a placid mood; in a moment of -most uproarious hilarity; in the depths of despondency; in languishing -amorousness; in fact, in all conceivable moods of the human mind. He -seemed to possess the strange faculty of producing any desired emotion -at will. - -After he had exhausted all moods, he one day stood gazing meditatively, -and rather sadly at the plates. - -“Are you not satisfied?” asked the professor. - -Christopher sighed deeply: “No, I cannot say that I am; it is certainly -shown that there is a change, the exact nature of which is by no means -clearly defined. Some future discovery will, I am sure, enable the -scientist to see the action of the brain as plainly as we now know the -action of the heart.” - -He nervously ran his fingers through his hair while speaking; he -withdrew his hand with an exclamation of horror: it was covered with -hairs and a cloud of the same enveloped him. - -“Heaven! Is all my hair falling out?” he cried in dismay. - -The professor calmly observed: “I have noticed it for some time; when -you first came your mustache and eyebrows were very thick and long, but -have been gradually thinning, I thought several times that I would speak -of it, but we have had so much else to talk about, and the most of your -moods have been so peculiar—” he smiled as he paused. - -“Oh, it’s all right for you to laugh! You wouldn’t if you were in my -shoes! Whatever will Maria say?” - -He stood ruefully looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I look like -a kid!” said he scornfully. “I have been so busy with this confounded -foolishness that I did not think of looking in a glass. Pshaw! I’m going -to drop this nonsense and go home; I know that my wife is worried about -me before this time. I haven’t written to her since I came here. I -didn’t want her to know what I was doing.” - -“You ought to have told her, though,” said the professor. - -“You don’t know Maria!” said Christopher sadly. “Confound it! How my -head aches! Now that I take time to think of it, I know that it has -ached for a week.” - -The following morning Christopher was very ill, and was not able to -leave his room for weeks. When at last he arose, he giddily crossed the -room to the mirror, and looked at himself; he sank into a chair with a -groan; not a vestige of hair remained on head or face. - -He covered his long, leathery face with his hands, and cried aloud: “I -look like a great big sole-leather baby! Whatever will Maria say! I’ll -never tell her that it is the effect of that confounded “X” ray; if I -did I should never hear the last of it; I’ve been sick, I am sick—sick -of the whole business.” - -Meanwhile at home, Maria had at first reproached herself with her -irritability, and finished by writing Christopher a loving, and penitent -little note, which she sent to Abbeyville. Of course she received no -reply. - -“He must have been very angry,” she sobbingly exclaimed. - -She wrote again, a still more penitent and pleading letter; this not -being answered, she became very indignant. - -“If he wants to be so awfully huffy, let him!” she said wrathfully; but -when a whole month passed, and no tidings came as to his whereabouts, -she became alarmed, and began to institute cautious inquiries. - -Of course, all search proved unavailing, and Maria wept and mourned her -Christopher as dead. - -Nearly five months from the day he left his home, Christopher wearily -climbed the front steps of his own residence, and rang the bell. His -clothing hung loosely on his gaunt limbs; his long, thin face was the -color of leather; his eyes, devoid of lashes, and without eyebrows, -looked perfectly lifeless. - -Hannah, an old servant in the family, opened the door. - -“If you want food go to the rear door,” she cried sharply, as she shut -him out unceremoniously. - -He sat down on the upper step, pale and trembling. - -“What does Hannah mean by insulting me thus? Can it be that Maria is so -angry that she has ordered the servants to refuse me admittance?” - -He mopped his forehead with his handkerchief, although the air was -frosty and nipping. Presently he muttered to himself: “I’ll just stay -around until Maria comes out, then I’ll persuade her to forgive me. I’ve -acted the fool, that’s sure.” - -He walked up and down the street, and hung around corners, until the -whole neighborhood were watching him. - -About three in the afternoon, Maria came out of the house dressed in the -deepest of mourning. - -“I wonder who is dead; must be her father!” he shambled up to her, and -laid his hand on her arm. “Ma—” he began; she gave a frightened scream, -and started to run; he clutched her more frantically, and cried wildly: -“Listen to me! you shall listen to me!” - -She screamed again at the top of her voice: “Help! Murder! Police!” - -A gentleman coming toward them, rushed up, and gave Christopher a -stunning blow; Maria tore herself loose at the expense of much crape; -ran back into the house, and locked the door after herself. - -Christopher arose from the sidewalk and shuffled off down the street, -muttering maledictions as he went. “It’s all a conspiracy! She has got -another lover, and thinks to get rid of me; she’ll find that she can’t -do it so easily. I’ll wait until dark, and then let myself in with my -latchkey; we’ll see whether I am master in my own house or not.” - -He paced the street angrily until nightfall; stationing himself -opposite, he then watched the house until all was dark and silent. Still -another hour he waited: “I’ll be sure that the servants are asleep, -evidently they have orders to put me out, or Hannah would not have -ordered me off as she did. I’ll show them that they will not get the -best of Christopher Hembold yet.” - -About eleven o’clock he cautiously crept up the steps, and as cautiously -let himself in; just within he removed his boots; then carefully groped -his way to Maria’s room. Her door was unlocked, and by the dim light of -the night lamp he saw her round white arm thrown above her head, thus -framing her delicate face; the lace on her night robe rising and falling -with every breath. - -A rush of love and tenderness came over him; this was his Maria—the -dainty bride whom he had transplanted from her father’s home; he knelt -beside the bed, enfolding her in his arms, and pressed a passionate kiss -upon her half-parted lips. She opened wide her affrighted eyes; she -struggled wildly, letting out one piercing shriek, then fainted. The -half-clad servants came running into the room, finding Christopher on -his knees beside the bed, chafing Maria’s hands, kissing her pale face, -and fondly calling her: “My love! My little one!” - -Thomas, the coachman, seized him by the shoulders; Maria regaining -consciousness, began screaming again; Hannah added to the confusion by -crying excitedly, “Throw him out! Call the police! The man is crazy!” -Thomas obeyed the first command; he dragged Christopher down the stairs, -opened the door, and kicked him out, and down the steps. - -He lay there a few minutes, completely bewildered. Just as he was -struggling to his feet, a policeman came along, and seeing his -bewildered condition, his shoeless feet, and battered appearance, laid -his hand roughly on his shoulder, and said to him: “What are you doing -here?” - -“This is my home. I am Christopher Hembold!” answered he. - -The policeman laughed: “Oh, come off! This is the home of the Widow -Hembold, all right; but you look about as much like the defunct -Christopher as a yellow cur resembles a King Charles spaniel.” - -Christopher tried to jerk away. “Let me alone!” he cried angrily. - -“Will I?” said the burly policeman. “Where are your boots?” continued -he. - -“In the house, if it is any of your business,” was the surly reply. - -The tumult within the house still continued; lights were carried from -room to room, and flashed weirdly up and down the stairs. Thomas came -hurriedly out of the door, kicking Christopher’s boots into the street -as he ran down the steps. - -“Hello!” says the policeman: “What’s the matter in there?” - -“Some burglar, or lunatic let himself into the house, and into Mrs. -Hembold’s room; and she’s gone into hysterics; I’m going after Dr. -Philbrick.” - -“Let me go! Let go of me! I’m going into the house—to my wife!” said -Christopher, struggling wildly. - -“You are going to the station, and if you don’t go decently, I’ll call -the patrol;” and call the patrol he did. - -Christopher fought like a fury, but in spite of it he was loaded into -the wagon between two burly promoters of the peace and carried to the -station, where he raved like a madman all night. The next morning they -had him up for drunk and disorderly. In vain he protested that he had -not touched liquor, and declared that his name was Christopher Hembold. -No one believed him, so he got fifteen days, and the next morning saw -him marched out with the chain gang to work on the street. He had -quieted down by this time, and had determined what to do; he watched his -opportunity until the overseer’s back was turned toward him; all the -rest of the gang except his mate also faced the opposite way. He slipped -a dollar into his mate’s willing palm. “You will not see me leave; look -the other way.” He obeyed, and Christopher hurried down a side street, -walked swiftly through a front gate into a private yard, out through a -rear gate into an alley, and was lost to the chain gang. - -He went direct to his lawyers. Mr. Hurd, the senior member of the firm, -was seated at his desk when Christopher entered; he scarcely looked up -at his salutation: “Good-morning Mr. Hurd.” - -The lawyer barely nodded his head, and continued his writing; after -several minutes, observing Christopher still standing: “Well, sir! Have -you business with me?” evidently not favorably impressed by his -visitor’s appearance. - -“Don’t you know me, Mr. Hurd?” - -The lawyer looked him over in cynical surprise: “Can’t say that I ever -saw you before.” - -“You ought to know Christopher Hembold?” interrogatively. - -“Yes, sir; I knew him well; good fellow, but a little cracked in the -upper story.” - -He returned to his writing, evidently considering the matter disposed -of; after a long time Christopher, still smarting from Mr. Hurd’s -contemptuous remark, said: “Well?” in a questioning tone. - -Mr. Hurd looked up in displeasure. “Please state your business; my time -is limited,” he said. - -Christopher flushed a sickly green over all his yellow face. “Mr. Hurd, -I came to you to have you intercede for me with my wife; she will not -allow me to speak to her, and caused the servants to throw me out of the -house.” - -The lawyer held up his hand: “First, if you wish me to take your case, I -must receive a retainer; I do business in no other way.” - -Christopher opened his lashless eyes in a grotesque stare. “Sir! You -have all of my business in your hands, and have had it for years,” -answered he angrily. - -Mr. Hurd turned around in his office chair, and gave his caller an angry -look; he touched the button at his side; a colored servant came -instantly. - -“James, show this man out.” Turning to Christopher he said: - -“I have no time to be bothered with such nonsense. The idea of your -trying to palm yourself off for Christopher Hembold!” he cried, with -withering contempt. - -Christopher stalked out of the office in a rage. He went direct to his -room at the hotel; he threw himself into a chair, and buried his face in -his hands; his attitude expressed the utmost dejection; after a time he -arose and stood before the mirror: - -“Is it possible that Maria did not know me?” he looked at himself -scornfully: “Who would know you? You old, yellow-faced, putty baby, -you!” he apostrophized, shaking his fist at his reflection. “Serves you -right; serves you right, you old idiot! Fool with the ‘X’ ray, will you, -trying to find out if you do know anything? I can tell you that you are -a fool. Fool! fool!” he cried tragically. - -After a time he calmed down, and taking out his purse counted the -contents. - -There is something akin to the ridiculous in the near association of -pathos and money; they are very near neighbors, however. Christopher -sighed deeply: “This is all I have left, and—when my lawyer will not -acknowledge my identity, what am I to do?” He drummed impatiently upon -the table with his fingers; finally he started up excitedly: “Of course! -Good Lord! why didn’t I think of that!” - -He hauled his gripsack into the middle of the room; shirts and socks -flew right and left, until he found the cathodographs, also a photograph -taken just previous to his experimenting; he took them out, and placed -them in a row; taking the photograph, he walked to the mirror and -compared it with the reflection. - -“I don’t wonder that no one knew you, you old scarecrow, you!” glaring -angrily at his double. - -The next morning he again sought Mr. Hurd; the lawyer turned angrily -upon his entrance: “I do not wish to be bothered, sir,” motioning toward -the door. - -Christopher was not to be put off in this manner; he walked up to the -desk, and laid down the pictures he had brought. - -“Will you be kind enough to look at these?” asked Christopher in a -quivering voice. - -Mr. Hurd glanced at them impatiently: “Well! What of them?” - -“You know this one as representing Christopher Hembold?” he asked -eagerly, with his finger on the photograph spoken of. - -“Yes, of course; what of that? it does not resemble you,” curtly. - -“But I sat for every one of those pictures,” despondently; the hope -which he had cherished dying within his heart. - -“Oh, stuff, nonsense!” scornfully ejaculated Mr. Hurd. Christopher’s -head fell forward on his breast; he looked the picture of despair. His -clothing hung loosely upon his long, gaunt limbs; his hands, much too -large for the bony wrists, dropped nervelessly at his side; his lifeless -eyes, his hollow cheeks, looked as though the great Conqueror had -already claimed him, while still permitting him to roam the earth for -some inscrutable purpose. - -Mr. Hurd, having little sentiment, thought only of his annoyance. “Will -you please remove that litter from the desk,” he said. - -Christopher made one more appeal: “Will you write to Professor Blank, -and find whether these pictures were taken from my sittings?” he asked -supplicatingly. - -“I will not be bothered with it, I tell you; write for yourself,” he -answered roughly. - -“I will,” said Christopher, with vexed decision, then occurred to him -the thought; Professor Blank knew him as Smith only. He gathered the -photographs up hastily, and rushed out of the house. “I’ve a notion to -drown my fool self! Oh, what shall I do! Was ever any one in such a -predicament!” he cried aloud. Everyone turned to look at him as he ran -past them. - -“Hello, Smith! Where are you going in such a rush? What is the matter -with you?” cried a familiar voice in his very ear. - -Christopher gave a great shout; then began to cry like a veritable baby, -as he grasped the professor’s hands. “I was going to drown myself; you -have saved my life,” and he fairly blubbered. - -“Smith, you are as crazy as you are bald-headed,” laughingly said the -professor. - -“Don’t call me _Smith_! My name is Christopher Hembold,” he said -excitedly. - -“I only know that you called yourself Smith.” - -“Yes; it’s surprising what a fool a man can make of himself,” -dejectedly. - -He took the photographs from his pocket, and said entreatingly: “Say, -professor, do go with me to my lawyer, and tell him that you took these -with the ‘X’ ray, and _don’t_ say anything about _Smith_;” this last in -a tone of intense disgust. - -They were just entering a park, and seated themselves on a bench, while -Christopher told the whole story. The professor laughed, even as he -said: “I’m sorry for you, and will help you all I can.” - -Once more Christopher climbed the stairs to the lawyer’s office. Mr. -Hurd arose to his feet wrathfully. “You are the most persistent -annoyance that I ever met——” - -Christopher interrupted him: “Mr. Hurd, allow me to introduce to you the -eminent Professor Blank.” - -The lawyer jerked his head slightly, attaching no importance to the -name. The Professor bowed courteously, at the same time handing him his -card. - -As Mr. Hurd glanced at the bit of pasteboard, his manner underwent a -great change: “Please be seated,” said he urbanely. - -Professor Blank bowed again: “This gentleman requested me to accompany -him to your office, to testify that I took these cathodographs of him -with the ‘X’ ray. This represents him as he appeared when I first saw -him,” laying the photograph on the desk: “After having the last of the -cathodographs taken he was very ill for a long time; his hair had nearly -all fallen before his illness, and during that illness he became -emaciated as you see him.” - -Mr. Hurd stood gazing from Christopher to the photograph, and back again -in amazement. - -“But what took his hair off?” - -“Oh, the ‘X’ ray; it sometimes has that effect,” said the professor -calmly. - -Mr. Hurd turned to Christopher: “You don’t mean to tell me—” he paused -eloquently. - -“Yes, I was experimenting with the ‘X’ ray—having my brain -cathodographed,” he answered humbly. - -Maria had entered unperceived: “You mean that you had your skull -pictured; you haven’t any brain, Christopher; the ‘X’ ray makes but a -slight shadow of soft substances, and none of a vacuum,” said she -sweetly. - -Said Christopher, in an aside to the professor: - -“I told you that you didn’t know my Maria! My! Won’t I catch it, -though!” - - - - - AN AVERTED TRAGEDY. - - -Merna Wood stood leaning against the jamb in the open doorway. - -The morning-glory vines made a very effective draping for a very pretty -picture; the attitude was the acme of indolence, which an indescribable -expression of alertness belied. - -Ned Glover was standing below, his face just on a level with hers; he -was looking at her laughingly—in fact he was nearly always laughing—and -Merna was never certain that he meant one-half that he was saying, which -at this moment was: “Yes; I am going to buy a nice little home, and I -want a housekeeper; will you come?” - -Merna tossed her head saucily: “I do not intend to go out to service -this summer,” she replied. - -“If I must do so, I will hire some one to do the work, and have my wife -oversee it. Will you come as my wife, Merna?” - -Merna flushed rosily, she was not yet sure that he was in earnest, so -she replied lightly, “Oh, you are just funning, as the children say.” - -He tried to draw his face into lines of seriousness, but his bright blue -eyes would twinkle, he was so jolly that it was impossible for him to -assume an expression of severe gravity. - -He caught her face in both his large palms, and kissed her fondly: “Say -yes! Say yes, I tell you!” he whispered forcefully. - -“Yes! Yes! Let me go, Ned, mother is looking!” - -“Well, mother has a perfect right to look; we do not care!” his face one -broad laugh. - -Ned was from this time—of course—a privileged visitor; always pleasant, -and in a manner affectionate, yet no more loverlike than before their -engagement. The tender nonsense that helps to make courtship so sweet; -the airs of possession on one side, and of loving subjection on the -other, the happy planning by both for the future, seemed to be entirely -forgotten. - -Love is a magician who fits the eyes with a deceptive lens; but not even -through love’s magnifying could Merna find tangible ground for rosy -dreams; she was not exactly unhappy, neither was she quite satisfied. -She took herself to task for being so foolish—just because of the lack -of definite words—but he seemed to have forgotten the engagement -altogether, as he made not the slightest allusion to it. It made Merna’s -face burn whenever she thought of it: “I do wonder if he was just making -game of me, trying to ascertain what answer I would give him! Oh, I wish -that I had have said no—Oh, I do not know what I do wish!” angry tears -filling her eyes as she thought. - -Ned came as usual one evening, and remained until very late; once, as -she was passing him, she rested her hand upon the table, and leaned -toward him in the act of speaking; he covered the hand with his warm -palm, and his breath swept her cheek as he whispered: “I wish that I had -you all to myself in a nice little home of our own!” - -Her radiant eyes answered him, and she bent her head until her cheek -touched his caressing lips. - -As he was bidding her good-night, he caught her in his arms, saying over -and over again, “I do love you, Merna! You are the sweetest little woman -on the face of the earth!” - -Her face was filled with happiness, and her eyes glowed with tender -light; but she laughingly put her hand over his lips: “I imagine that is -what you call ‘taffy’!” - -He held her closely for a moment, his voice growing low and earnest: -“Little one, I mean every word that I say! I do love you—and if only -circumstances—well, never mind that talk, but believe that I truly love -you!” - -She sat in the moonlight thinking for a long time after he left; what -was there in that closing speech which sent a chill over her? Only -this—love is said to be blind—as to worldly judgment this is true; but -love’s intuition of love grows keen with the development of the passion. -She felt that she ought to be happy, but she was not—that is—not so very -happy; little thrilling thoughts ran through her mind deliciously, then -a cold wave of doubt, casting a chill over her spirits. A woman is -flattered and pleased if a man makes her a sharer of his secrets, -whether of business or otherwise; she thus knows that he fully trusts -her love and judgment, and she holds it a sacred charge. She thought -uneasily that she could have no fond anticipations with any certainty of -their proving a reality. Whatever she built must be the very airiest -kind of an air castle, its only foundation an engagement which seemed -like a burlesque. Vague allusions, or even words of endearment do not -form a very tangible ground upon which to build. - -A restless sigh escaped her lips: “I wish——” The unfinished sentence -ended with another sigh. - -The next evening she waited for Ned in a state of impatient -restlessness, she had determined to have a nice long talk with him, -although she was not in anywise certain as to what she would say; she -thought she would lead him to talk of the future, and the home of which -he had spoken; she wondered if he would talk of it frankly, or would he -evade her questions as he so often had done, as though he did not -comprehend her remark. - -She watched the clock anxiously; she walked down the path to the gate a -dozen times; she took up her embroidery, set a half-dozen stitches, and -laid it down in disgust; she took a book instead, turned a page or two -without comprehending a word and tossed it aside with an exclamation of -impatience, to restlessly drum on the window. - -“Merna, what ails you?” asked her mother querulously. - -“Oh, my head aches,” was the evasive reply. - -“You had best go to bed; you make me nervous, fidgeting around so!” - -“It is too early to go to bed! I’ll go out in the air a little -while—perhaps that will help my head,” answered Merna. - -“Merna Wood, you have been down to that gate about a dozen times; why -don’t you be honest, and say that you are looking for Ned!” half in -derision, and a trifle crossly, retorted her mother. - -Merna answered with mock humility: “Yes’m, I’ll confess, if you will not -be cross. Oh, mamsy, I wish he would come; there is something I wish to -say to him!” she kneeled down with her head on her mother’s knee, like a -little child. - -Her mother replied laughingly: “It appears to me that you do usually -have something to say to him,” but her hand wandered caressingly through -the soft, bright hair; thus evidencing her sympathy. - -He did not come that night nor the next, and for three almost unending -months Merna neither heard from nor of him; then incidentally, she heard -that he was gone, but where her informant did not know. - -Gone without so much as a word to her! - -She shut her grief within her heart and went about her duties but with -the subtle essence of hope and faith taken out of her life—she thought -forever—she had little idea how elastic is hope; faith is more ethereal, -hope has tough fibre. - -When her mother would have sympathized with her, she made light of it: -“I don’t care! If he wants to stay away, he can; don’t you fret about -me, mamsy!” But mamsy was not in the least deceived. - -A year swept by, and Merna had become less restless, more submissive to -that which she deemed the inevitable; it is a mercy that time casts so -tender a haze over all things. - -Ned had written no letter to her; at first she grieved, but latterly she -had grown indignant. - -“Why do you not accept other company?” said her mother. - -“Oh, I don’t care for them; they are not nice, mamsy.” - -“You are a very foolish little girl to waste your affections upon one -who cares so little,” said her mother. - -“Now, mamsy, I am not wasting a particle of anything. As for Ned Glover, -I hate him!” - -Her mother laughed, but said no more, trusting to time to effect a cure. - - * * * * * - -It was a lovely evening in June; the wind softly fluttered the thin -curtains at the open window bringing in the odor of the roses which grew -just outside. Merna sat in a low rocker just within, her arms thrown -above her head, her book lying unheeded upon her lap; she was so -absorbed in reverie that she heard no sound, and a sudden darkening of -the window startled her. - -Resting his arms on the window ledge, Ned stood regarding her -quizzically: “Are you too sleepy to say ‘how do you do?’ How I do wish -for a kodak!” precisely as though he had not been gone a day. - -Merna started up with a subdued exclamation, and before she realized it -she was smiling up into his laughing face. - -How often she had thought of this meeting—_if_ he should return—and -pictured to herself the cool, indifferent air with which she would greet -him; instead, she was laughing and chatting as merrily as though there -had been no break in their intercourse. - -He resumed precisely his former position; he made just the same vague, -intangible allusions, without one word upon which to place a hope -securely. Merna seemed plastic in his hands—and what was there to -resist, or to resent? Nothing—perhaps; yet Merna lost her healthful -calm, and grew restless and irritable; one cannot successfully resist -the intangible, or do battle with the wind. His alternate tenderness, -and good-natured indifference filled her with restless longing; she -wished that he would be more explicit, or go away and leave her alone; -she thought resentfully that it was unjust that because of her sex she -must utter no word to further her own happiness; and because custom -ordered it, she must take the crumbs offered to her, or go altogether -hungry; she must have no voice in shaping her future beyond an assent or -denial. Oh, yes; to be sure! There are a thousand ways in which a woman -may signify her preference, but it would be very shocking if she should -put it into words, unless the man asked her to do so! It looks for all -the world like putting a premium upon intrigue. - -Her girlish friends exchanging confidences, rallied her about her beau: -“Oh, Merna, when are you going to be married?” - -“Just as soon as I can find a man who will marry me,” retorted she, but -she flushed painfully. - -“Oh don’t cheat! Tell us all about it!” - -“There is nothing to tell,” replied Merna looking distressed. - -A wild chorus of dissent greeted this reply; as soon as possible Merna -slipped away to cry out her grief and mortification. She thought that -every one of them was laughing at her because of her uncertainty -regarding her lover. - -Ned certainly had no such feelings; he took everything for granted in a -laughing, off-hand way, not to be resisted; he came continually, he -monopolized her completely; he spoke to her, and of her as belonging to -him, but always in that laughing way which left the impression of a -joke; he did not say, such a day we will be married; such a place will -be our home; he said instead: “You belong to me; you could not get away -from me if you tried; I should find you, I shall always know where you -are.” - -This was all very sweet, but—very unsatisfying. He was strong, -masterful, laughingly dominant; but he was also either very thoughtless, -or very secretive. - -He made no allusion to the time of his absence except once; he had that -evening been unusually demonstrative, and Merna—from some remark made by -him—felt emboldened to ask: “Where were you while so long absent?” - -“Oh, a dozen places. I can’t tell you—things get so mixed up sometimes -that I don’t know what I’m about myself,” he replied evasively. - -“You might have written,” said Merna quietly, it almost seemed -indifferently. - -“Yes, I know—in fact I meant to, but—I hate to write letters, and there -was nothing that you would care to know—” he broke off abruptly, as -though he did not wish to betray himself. - -“No, of course not,” answered Merna, with quiet sarcasm; she felt hurt -and indignant, but was altogether too proud to show it. - -Although Merna made no further mention of it, he seemed to feel ashamed -of his neglect, and repeatedly said: “I will never leave again, without -telling you that I am going;” so that in this respect she felt a greater -assurance; but he spent the evening with her as usual, and in the usual -manner bid her good-night, and she saw him no more for three years. - -Sad changes came to Merna during this interval; her mother, long a -widow, sickened and died. Merna’s grief was beyond words—beyond thought -even; it benumbed all her senses. The home which she had thought her own -was taken from her—unjustly—but what did that matter? She was alone, and -as ignorant of law as a babe. Poor child! She thought that it did not -matter, that nothing mattered, now that the gentle face of her mother -had faded out of life; she felt that she could no longer live within -those memory-haunted walls. During all these sad days she heard nothing -from Ned, and her heart cried out piteously: “Oh, if he truly loved me -he would not leave me to bear my burdens alone.” These hard realities -took away all the lingering grace of girlhood, but added the charm and -poise of sweet, self-reliant womanhood. - -In these old towns, where people are born, live, and die in the same old -house, generation after generation; where the ways are peaceful and -narrow; where people drift along, content with no innovations of -knowledge, or new ways brought from the bustling, outside world, there -develops an aristocracy peculiarly its own, and those not within its -old-fashioned circle can scarcely obtain a living. Not to own the home -which their ancestors owned is looked upon as a disgrace; and owning it, -to part with it, though the misfortune is not through fault of the -owner—is considered a greater disgrace, for which there could be no -extenuation. Merna very keenly realized that she was under the ban of -social ostracism. She left this, her native place, for a town, newer and -busier, where work was to be had for such unskilled hands as hers. - -Being wholly inexperienced in the ways of the world, as well as in -labor, Merna found it hard to obtain the means of subsistence; she was a -woman fair to look upon, and alone, therefore her path was beset with -peril; but she was able to retain her own self-respect—that most -truthful of all commendation—she was possessed of too much native -refinement to be led into the vulgarity of evil ways, or seduced from -right by fluent sophistries. - - * * * * * - -One blustering day, when the wind shrieked around the street corners, -and carried onward clouds of fine, penetrating dust, intermingled with -the falling snow, whirling both into every opened doorway with malicious -violence, a man wrapped in a great, shaggy overcoat, opened the door of -the little store kept by Merna. There had been no customers all the -morning; unless otherwise compelled, all were glad to remain within -doors. - -Merna came from the sitting room in the rear, and walked behind the -counter awaiting her customer’s pleasure; with his back toward her, he -had taken off his fur cap, and was knocking out the snow against the -door. Something familiar in the movements and attitude gave her a start, -but it was not until he had unbuttoned his coat, and turned toward her, -that she really recognized him; he walked to the counter, reaching out -both hands, his blond face one broad smile. It was Ned—stalwart, hearty, -and as usual—laughing. - -Merna stood like one shocked, a terrible weakness assailed her; she saw -the laughing face but dimly, his voice sounded strange and far off. - -His robust tones aroused her: “Aren’t you going to shake hands with me, -after I have had such a time finding you?” he asked. - -“Why did you seek me?” cried Merna passionately, surprised out of her -usual self-control. - -“Because I wanted to see you, to be sure!” The same laughing insouciance -as of old, so impossible to understand; it might be pleasant raillery, -it was quite as likely to be sarcasm. - -“I wish that you had stayed away—after three years!” her voice rising -shrilly. - -He walked deliberately around the end of the counter, caught both her -hands and held them firmly, his warm breath sweeping her cheek, his face -so very near her own. “Did I not tell you that I should find you? I -shall never lose sight of you!” his face still lower, his lips touching -her cheek caressingly. “I am so glad to see you, my Merna! Say, ‘Ned I -am glad that you are here!’” he whispered tenderly. - -Ah, well! A woman’s a woman! and poor girl, her heart throbbed so -happily; it seemed so good to have this great strong man holding her -hands, whispering to her in this tender tone; what if the words did not -promise much, the tone conveyed a world of tender meaning, and—she was -so lonely. She had been so fiercely angry at him that she thought she -hated him; she found that it was the act that she hated, and not the -man; he held his old place in her heart. Presently she was shedding -happy tears on his broad shoulder, and looking happily up into his face -through her wet lashes; thrilling from her foolish little heart to the -ends of her fingers with the delight of his very presence. - -From this time on how different the dull, prosaic work seemed; the -anticipation of the happy evening glorified each day, and he never -failed to come. He appeared to be perfectly content in her company; he -called her fond names, and usurped all the privileges of an accepted -lover. He occasionally alluded to business, sometimes ending with, “When -I get things into shape, I’ll pick you up and carry you off.” - -Often Merna felt hurt, the allusions were so vague and really unmeaning, -and the talk of business so indefinite—the sentences never quite -complete—so that she had no certain knowledge as to what was his -business. A half-confidence is much more vexatious than no confidence as -it puts one to thinking; this was really no trust at all in her; just an -aggravating shadow, like a cloud over the summer sun, which when you -look upward in expectation of its grateful shade has sailed away. - -A whole year passed away, and living in the light of his presence, her -uneasy feeling had mostly worn away; if she gave it thought—that in -reality she knew no more of the future than when he first returned, she -consoled herself, and excused him, by saying, “Oh, he is so odd, but he -means all right.” - -As upon previous occasions there came an evening when she waited for him -in vain; she could not settle herself to anything, even the chatter of -her customers annoyed her, and her ear persistently hearkened for a -well-known footstep; something must have detained him unavoidably; he -would surely come to-morrow evening, but all the while her heart was -sinking heavily. He did not come the next evening, nor the one -following, and her fear grew to a certainty. She mentioned his name to -no one, but watched the passers-by on the street, feverishly; she -eagerly looked over the newspapers, hoping for a chance mention of him. -The days seemed so long and wearisome; the corners of her mouth took a -sad droop; the work grew so irksome. Others sought her company, but she -turned from them with dislike, or made comparisons to their great -detriment. - -Business had heretofore been very good, but hard times came on, and -little by little trade dropped off; it grew dull, then vexatious and -finally exasperating; complaints were heard on every side. The days grew -doubly sad when no customers came in to break the heavy monotony; the -very silence grew oppressive, and Merna could scarcely restrain her -tears. Her heart grew hard and bitter toward Ned, toward the world, and -fate. - -The wind whistled shrilly around the loosely built building, rattling -the boards and battens, and swaying the canvas walls and ceiling -dizzily, making Merna feel more desolate and despondent than usual. She -stood behind the cigar case, looking gloomily out upon the wind-swept -street; as if conjured up by her thought, Martin Balfour—her chief -creditor—entered the store. - -He came in with a great swagger, and called for a cigar: “Gi’mme a good -one—twenty-five cent-er; I reckon I can afford it!” with an insolent -leer. - -Without reply, she handed him the box, to make his own choice. - -He selected one, lighted it, and leaning lazily against the show case, -puffed the smoke in huge volumes; he finally took the weed from his -lips, ejected a mouthful of saliva on to the clean floor, flicked the -ashes off with his little finger, and said, “Well, Miss Wood, I s’pose -you are ready to chalk up this morning?” - -Merna flushed a vivid red, then went deadly pale; this man held a -mortgage on everything she possessed, and his manner was distinctly -aggressive. “I could not get the money this morning, Mr. Balfour; I have -the promise of it the latter end of the week, and I beg of you to wait,” -faltered Merna. - -He laughed loudly and coarsely: “As to waiting, I’ve waited just as long -as I am going to; my kindness is all right, but I’m no guy, see! Your -chump of a fellow left you to shift for yourself; I’m not one to drag up -bygones—I’ll marry you, and call the debt square!” He leaned across the -showcase, and tried to grasp her hand. - -Merna drew herself up indignantly: “I thank you, but I prefer paying my -debts in a legitimate way.” - -“Well, fork over, then,” he said brutally. - -Tears filled her eyes, she had not one-tenth the amount, so she tried to -temporize: “I will certainly raise it by the middle of the week——” - -“The mortgage is due; it’s got to be paid to-day! I’m going to take no -more guff—either you promise to marry me, or I’ll take the stock before -night, see!” Protruding his face toward her still more aggressively. - -Merna grew calm as he became excited; she thought of Ned with a pang of -bitterness, that he could place her in a position to be insulted upon -his account by such a man; but her disgust of the man himself outweighed -all else. “Take the goods now; I shall make no more effort!” she said -coldly. - -“You’ll be sorry! You’ll come whining to me when you’re starving,” he -flung after her angrily, as he went out. - -Within an hour the place was stripped of everything; Merna stood with -folded arms and saw them taken out without a tear, she seemed benumbed. - -An acquaintance passing, came in: “What is the trouble, Miss Wood? Are -you obliged to give up?” he asked kindly. - -“Yes,” briefly. - -He looked at her sorrowful face, and his heart filled with pity for her. -He laid his hand over her’s, and said kindly: “I wish that you would -give me the privilege of caring for you——” - -Merna put out her hand as though to shield herself: “Wait! Wait! I -cannot answer you now; come back this evening; my heart is too full now -to think—I thank you—” she finished brokenly. - -He lifted her hand to his lips respectfully, as he replied, “I will -come,” and went out quietly. - -Merna felt a hysterical desire to laugh; two proposals in one morning, -and not an earthly thing which she could call her own; she thought -grimly that she could not accuse either of them of being fortune -hunters. Everything had been taken except a small sheet-iron stove, an -old chair, and a rickety table, these had not been considered worth -removing. She sat down in the chair, and laid her head on her arms on -the table; she wished that she could cry, her heart beat so heavily; a -wild anguish swept over her as she thought of her mother; she would not -have deserted her in her hour of need; she cried aloud as a thought of -Ned forced itself upon her consciousness: “Why cling to the shadow of a -love, which only tantalizes me; he had no real love for me! I was just a -good comrade—and a fool!” she added bitterly. - -Presently she resumed her self-communing: “Why not accept this last -proposal? Tom Thornton is a good man, and he loves me; better one who -loves me so well, than waste my life upon a shadow which ever eludes my -grasp;” the well-remembered look of Ned’s jolly face—though she was so -sad—made her smile, then sigh restlessly. - -With her head resting upon the table she dropped off into wearied -slumber, from whence she entered dreamland. Strange, troubled visions -passed her, out of which evolved Tom Thornton’s face, she heard him -enter, and he stood beside her, her affianced husband; he sought to take -her hand, but she turned from him with aversion, reaching out both hands -to Ned, who approached her, stern and menacing. - -“I can-not! I can-not!” she cried piteously. - -“What is it, that you cannot do?” said a hearty voice in her ear. - -“Marry Tom Thornton!” raising her woe-begone, haggard face. - -“I should think not! You are going to marry me this very night! I’ve got -everything fixed—a nice home, and all,” he finished exultantly, but as -usual, indefinitely. - -Merna was very wide awake now, and cried out, bitterly, “Why did you -come back? Why don’t you stay away when you go?” the only thought -presented to her mind being that he would stay until her whole hopes -were fixed upon him, then he would again leave. - -“Why did I come? After you, of course! Little woman, I depended upon -you, you promised me, you know!” his voice trembling with an undefined -fear. - -“Yes, I remember that I promised, but you seem to have forgotten, ever -since that you asked me for that promise!” indignantly. - -His good-looking face sobered into amazement: “Merna! I only wished to -keep all the worry away from you. I thought that you would not -understand, and if I told you it would make you anxious!” a deep trouble -in his voice. - -Merna stood up, her hands on his shoulders: “Oh, Ned, Ned! Do you think -that I am a baby—that I haven’t a grain of sense? A woman thinks that -the man she loves is able to accomplish all things—if only he tells her -all about it,” she finished with a gleeful laugh. - -He stood looking at her in bewilderment, trying to get the whole meaning -of that speech into his mind; at last he caught her, giving her an -extravagant hug: “I see what you mean; you want me to understand that we -are to be partners in all things; the business as well as the -pleasure—the sorrow as well as the joys; I never had a little ‘pard’ -before, and I think I did not catch on just right; but I’ll remember my -lesson,” said he, laughing happily. - -The door stood slightly ajar, as Ned had left it upon entering, and Tom -Thornton stepped quietly within; he paused and smiled; then sighed as he -silently went out. He was answered. - - - THE END. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Remarks by Bill Nye. - - -[Illustration] - - THE - FUNNIEST - OF - BOOKS. - -“It will cure the blues quicker than the doctor and at half the -price.”—_New York Herald._ - - =Over 500 Pages.= - =Fully Illustrated.= - - =Cloth, $1.50; Paper, 50c.= - - - LAUGH AND GROW FAT. - -A collection of the best writings of this great author, most profusely -illustrated, with over 500 pages. It is the funniest of books. Bill Nye -needs no introduction. The mention of the book is enough. - -“I have passed through an earthquake and an Indian outbreak, but I would -rather ride an earthquake without saddle or bridle, than to bestride a -successful broncho eruption.”—_Bill Nye._ - -“Age brings caution and a lot of shop-worn experience, purchased at the -highest market price. Time brings vain regrets and wisdom teeth that can -be left in a glass of water over night.”—_Bill Nye._ - - SPARKS FROM THE PEN OF BILL NYE. 192 PAGES. PAPER, 25c. - - WIT AND HUMOR. BY NYE AND RILEY. PAPER, 25c. - - - - - Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls. - - - By M. AMELIA FYTCHE. - - Neely’s Popular Library. - - Paper, 25c. - -Of late years writers have found it necessary to attract the eye of the -passing public toward their work by giving it some striking title. -Unfortunately in many instances these remarkable names serve only that -purpose, and have little or no application for the story. This can -hardly be said of Miss Fytche’s new book, “Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls.” If -for no other reason, this book should certainly arouse considerable -curiosity on account of the remarkable title, which the author has, she -confesses, dug out of the Bible, in order to stamp the peculiar features -of her story. It is a book well worth reading, and one we cordially -recommend to all who enjoy a good story when based upon those great -morals that govern the world. There is a promise of even better things -to come from this talented writer. “Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls” has aroused -considerable newspaper controversy from Maine to California, which fact -is in itself enough to stamp the book one of more than ordinary ability, -since space is too valuable to be wasted on trash in the estimation of -the modern editor. - - - - - Novels of Willis Steell. - - -In A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD the reader is led through many strange adventures, -while a vein of love arouses the interest of the fair sex. Mr. Steell -has shown more than ordinary power in describing Western scenes. For -many years to come the region from the Rockies to the Pacific must be -the home of romance. The century before us is destined to be marked by -stupendous discoveries in the treasures of the earth, and stories of -mining must always commend themselves to the eager public. - -ISIDRA, THE PATRIOT DAUGHTER OF MEXICO. The land of the Montezumas has -always been invested with a halo of romance ever since the days when the -Spanish invader, Cortez, swept over the country with his conquering army -of treasure seekers. This interest, instead of waning as the years pass -by, rather increases. New knowledge of Mexico but whets our eagerness to -learn more of her strange people, their methods of living, and the vast -treasures that lie sealed under her mountain ledges. “Isidra” is written -by one who is thoroughly at home in his subject. It is a charming tale -of love and adventure under the Mexican flag, and one cannot read the -romance without learning many interesting things in connection with our -neighbors over border. - - * * * * * - - ISIDRA. Paper, 50 cents. - A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD. Paper, 25 cents. - - - - - EVEN AS YOU AND I - - - By - - BOLTON HALL. - - Author of “Who Pays Your Taxes?” “Equitable Taxation,” “Stories for - Little Citizens,” Etc. - - - Neely’s Prismatic Library, Cloth, Gilt Top, 50 cents. - -The circulation of this book will probably depend upon the number of men -and women who are in search of a religion; not of a new religion, but of -the oldest religion, made applicable and applied to personal, social and -political life. The second part of the book is prefaced by a letter of -Tolstoy’s to the author, endorsing his view of life. - -The allegories which form the first part show how in ordinary life, as -Olive Schreiner puts it, greatness is to take the common things of life -and to walk truly among them; happiness is a great love and much -serving; holiness is an infinite compassion for others. - -There is an introduction by Ernest Howard Crosby, which is a complete -sketch in itself. - - - - - Through Field and Fallow. - - - A Choice Collection of Original Poems. - - By JEAN HOOPER PAGE. - - CLOTH, GILT TOP, $1.00. - -It is not always the brilliant work which appeals to us most keenly. -Sarcasm and rhetoric have their place, but the book that lies on the -desk and is found in the mending-basket is the book, nine times out of -ten, that deals with everyday life and sweeps across the strings of the -heart. While Mrs. Page’s work, “Through Field and Fallow,” often touches -the subtle minor chords, it invariably swells to the triumphant major -and rings clear and true in the sweetness of undying hope and -unquenchable faith. - -Much of Mrs. Page’s work has appeared first in our great daily -newspapers, but its life has been less ephemeral than theirs. Here and -there a woman has treasured some bit in her scrap book; a man has -clipped a verse and put it away in the drawer of his desk marked -“private.” Sooner or later in this little volume the reader will find -the poem that was written for him. - -Father Ryan once wrote: “To uplift the downcast, to sweeten any life, to -feel that we in some way have helped to lighten the great burden that -rests upon mankind—this is the only real compensation that comes to the -poet.” This recompense will be Mrs. Page’s. - - - - - Neely’s Imperial Library. - - - POPULAR AUTHORS, - BEST TITLES, FINEST BOOKS. - - Illuminated Paper Covers and many Illustrations. - - Entered as Second-Class Matter. - - - PRICE, 25 CENTS. - - =The Charlatan.= Robert Buchanan and Henry Murray. - =Burkett’s Lock.= M. G. McClelland. - =The Land of Promise.= (Illustrated.) Paul Bourget. - =Hypnotism.= (Illustrated.) Jules Claretie. - =Facing the Flag.= Jules Verne. - =The Fallen Race.= (Illustrated.) Austyn Granville. - =The Disappearance of Mr. Derwent.= Thomas Cobb. - =Sacrificed Love.= (Illustrated.) Alphonse Daudet. - =The One Too Many.= Mrs. E. Lynn Lynton. - =The New Man at Rossmere.= Mrs. J. H. Walworth. - =At Market Value.= Grant Allen. - =A Daughter of the King.= Allen. - =A Monk of Cruta.= (Illustrated.) E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =The Gates of Dawn.= Fergus Hume. - =In Strange Company.= (Illustrated.) Guy Boothby. - =How Women Love.= Max Nordau. - =The Comedy of Sentiment.= Max Nordau. - - NEW TITLES WILL BE ADDED RAPIDLY. - - - - - THE KING IN YELLOW. - - - By - - Robert W. Chambers. - - Author of “In the Quarter.” - - Neely’s Prismatic Library. - - Gilt Top, 50 Cents. - -This book has evidently created an astonishing amount of enthusiasm -among the lovers of the weird and eccentric in literature. On all sides -nothing but praise has been heard, coupling the gifted author’s name -with that of Edgar Allan Poe, and predicting a glorious future for the -man whose pen has the magical power to charm the reading public, ever -eager to seize on that which borders upon the _bizarre_. The odd and -attractive cover appeals to the curiosity of the reader, and once he has -dipped into the contents he finds a feast spread before him that awakens -a desire for further intercourse with the same fertile pen. - -EDWARD ELLIS:—“The author is a genius without a living equal, so far as -I am aware, in his peculiar field. It is a masterpiece.... I have read -many portions several times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of -the painting. None but a genius of the highest order could do such -work.” - -N. Y. COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER:—“The short prose tale should be a -synthesis; it was the art of Edgar Poe, it is the art of Mr. -Chambers.... His is beyond question a glorious heritage.... I fancy the -book will create a sensation; ... in any case it is the most notable -contribution to literature which has come from an American publisher for -many years; and fine as the accomplishment is, ‘The King in Yellow’ is -large in promise. One has a right to expect a great deal from an author -of this calibre.” - -TIMES HERALD:—“The most eccentric little volume of its (little) day ‘The -King in Yellow’ is subtly fascinating, and compels attention for its -style, and its wealth of strange, imaginative force.” - -NEW YORK TIMES:—“Mr. Robert W. Chambers does not have a system to work -up to; he has no fad, save a tendency to write about the marvelous and -the impossible; painting pictures of romance that have a wild -inspiration about them. Descriptive powers of no mean quality are -perceptible in this volume of stories.” - -THE N. Y. WORLD:—“Mr. Chambers has a great command of words; he is a -good painter. His situations are most delicately touched, and some of -his descriptions are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors -rather than ideas.... The best drama in the volume means madness. The -tenderest fancy is a sad mirage.... ‘The King in Yellow’ is a very -interesting contribution to the present fund of materio-mysticism.... To -read Mr. Chambers’ little book is to escape from the actual on poetical -wings.” - -MINNEAPOLIS TRIBUNE:—“They have a mysterious eerie air about them that -is apt to stimulate the reader’s curiosity.” - -PHILADELPHIA TIMES:—“Charming, delicate, skilful, vivid.” - -PHILADELPHIA ITEM:—“Expected to make a sensation, charming, full of -color and delicately tinted.” - -CLEVELAND GAZETTE:—“It is wondrous strong, dramatic, full of color, -weird, uncanny, picturesque, and yet a gem of exquisite coloring, -dreamy, symbolic, exciting.” - - - - - PAOLA CORLETTI, - - THE FAIR ITALIAN. - - - By ALICE HOWARD HILTON, - - Author of “A Blonde Creole.” - - Neely’s Popular Library, paper 25c. - -This is a charming romance of life in Italy and New Orleans—of a pretty -Italian maid, daughter of a Neapolitan nobleman, who elopes with the -lover of her choice, a poor musician, and being hounded by the -emissaries of a disappointed suitor, in conjunction with her angry -father, they start for America, settling in the famous French Quarter of -New Orleans. - -The story is sweet and pure, and full of exceeding pathos—the -descriptive bits of old New Orleans, with its Jackson Square and St. -Louis Cathedral, opposite, are clever pictures of the Creole City of the -past. Since Cable has ceased his admirable novels of these interesting -people, the public will undoubtedly welcome an addition to Creole -literature from the pen of one so thoroughly conversant with the subject -as Mrs. Hilton. - -For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. - - F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, - 96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as - printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - 4. Enclosed bold font in =equals=. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Floating Fancies among the Weird and -the Occult, by Clara H. Holmes - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOATING FANCIES AMONG WEIRD, OCCULT *** - -***** This file should be named 61005-0.txt or 61005-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/0/0/61005/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |