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diff --git a/old/62033-0.txt b/old/62033-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d955bf6..0000000 --- a/old/62033-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7299 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Blood Will Tell, by Benj. Rush Davenport - -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: Blood Will Tell - The Strange Story of a Son of Ham - -Author: Benj. Rush Davenport - -Illustrator: J. H. Donahey - -Release Date: May 5, 2020 [EBook #62033] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLOOD WILL TELL *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images -made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: The reader may wish to be warned that this book -contains racial stereotyping more than usually unpleasant even by the -standards of its time. Read as far as the Dedication and use that to -decide whether or not you want to continue. - - - - -[Illustration: “The brutalized features of Walter Burton were revealed.” - -Frontispiece] - - - - - BLOOD WILL TELL - - THE STRANGE STORY OF - A SON OF HAM - - BY - BENJ. RUSH DAVENPORT - AUTHOR OF - Blue and Gray, Uncle Sam’s Cabins, - Anglo-Saxons, Onward, Etc. - - Illustrations - by - J.H. Donahey - - CLEVELAND - Caxton Book Co. - 1902 - - Copyright - by - Benj. Rush Davenport - 1902 - - All rights reserved - - - - -DEDICATION - -To all Americans who deem purity of race an all-important element in the -progress of our beloved country. - -THE AUTHOR - -For obvious reasons the date of this story is not given ... - - - - -List of Illustrations - - - - “The brutalized features of Walter Burton were revealed. Frontispiece - - “Lucy passed her soft, white arm around her grandfather’s - neck.” Page 108 - - “He recklessly rushed in front of Burton.” Page 286 - - “Lucy, I have always loved you.” Page 340 - - - - -BLOOD WILL TELL - - - - -I. - - -Boston was shrouded in a mantle of mist that November day, the north-east -wind bringing at each blast re-enforcement to the all-enveloping and -obscuring mass of gloom that embraced the city in its arms of darkness. - -Glimmering like toy candles in the distance, electric lights, making -halos of the fog, marked a pathway for the hurrying crowds that poured -along the narrow, crooked streets of New England’s grand old city. In one -of the oldest, narrowest and most crooked thoroughfares down near the -wharfs a light burning within the window of an old-fashioned building -brought to sight the name “J. Dunlap” and the words “Shipping and -Banking.” - -No living man in Boston nor the father of any man in Boston had ever -known a day when passing that old house the sign had not been there for -him to gaze upon and lead him to wonder if the Dunlap line would last -unbroken forever. - -In early days of the Republic some Dunlap had in a small way traded with -the West Indian islands, especially Haiti, and later some descendant -of this old trade pathfinder had established a regular line of sailing -ships between Boston and those islands. Then it was that the sign “J. -Dunlap, Shipping and Banking” made its appearance on the front of the old -house. A maxim of the Dunlap family had been that there must always be a -J. Dunlap, hence sons were ever christened John, James, Josiah and such -names only as furnished the everlasting J as the initial. - -“J. Dunlap” had grown financially and commercially in proportion to -the growth of the Republic. There was not room on a single line in the -Commercial Agency books to put A’s enough to express the credit and -financial resources of “J. Dunlap” on this dark November day. Absolutely -beyond the shoals and shallows of the dangerous shore of trade where -small crafts financially are forced to ply, “J. Dunlap” sailed ever -tranquil and serene, neither jars nor shocks disturbing the calm serenity -of the voyage. - -This dismal November day marked an unparalleled experience in the career -of the present “J. Dunlap.” The customary calm was disturbed. J. Dunlap -disagreed and disagreed positively with J. Dunlap concerning an important -event, and that event was a family affair. - -The exterior of “J. Dunlap” may be dark, grimy, dingy and old, but within -all is bright with electric light. Behind glass and wire screens long -lines of clerks and accountants bend over desks and busy pens move across -the pages of huge ledgers and account books—messengers hurry in and out -of two glass partitioned offices. On the door of one is painted “Mr. -Burton, Manager;” on the other “Mr. Chapman, Superintendent.” - -Separated by a narrow passageway from the main office is a large room, -high ceiling, old-fashioned, furnished with leather and mahogany fittings -of ancient make, on the door of which are the words, “J. Dunlap, Private -Office.” This is the _sanctum sanctorum_ in this temple of trade. Within -“J. Dunlap’s” private office before a large grate heaped high with -blazing cannel coal two old men are seated in earnest conversation. They -are “J. Dunlap.” - -Seventy-two years before this November day that enfolded Boston with -London-like fog there were born to one J. Dunlap and his wife twin boys -to whom were given in due season the names of James and John. These boys -had grown to manhood preserving the same likeness to each other that they -had possessed as infants in the cradle. James married early and when his -son was born and was promptly made a J. Dunlap, his twin brother vowed -that there being a J. Dunlap to secure the perpetuation of the name, he -should never marry. - -When the J. Dunlap, father of the twin brothers, died, the twins -succeeded to the business as well as the other property of their father, -share and share alike. To change the name on the office window to Dunlap -Bros. was never even dreamed of; such sacrilege would surely have caused -the rising in wrath of the long line of ghostly “J. Dunlaps” that had -preceded the twins. Hence on this dark day “J. Dunlap” was two instead of -one. - -Handsome men were all the Dunlaps time out of mind, but no ancestor was -ever more handsome than the two clean cut, stalwart, white haired old -men who with eager gestures and earnest voices discussed the point of -difference between them today. - -“My dear brother,” said the one whose face bore traces of a more burning -sun than warms the Berkshire hills, “You know that we have never differed -even in trivial matters, and James, it is awful to think of anything that -could even be called a disagreement, but I loved your poor boy John as -much as I have ever loved you and when he died his motherless little girl -became more to me than even you, James, and it hurts my heart to think -of my darling Lucy being within possible reach of sorrow and shame.” The -fairer one of the brothers bent over and grasping with both hands the -raised hand of him who had spoken said with an emotion that filled his -eyes with moisture: - -“God bless you, John! You dear old fellow! I know that that loving heart -of yours held my poor boy as near to it as did my own, and that Lucy -has ever been the dearest jewel of your great soul, but your love and -tenderness are now conjuring up imaginary dangers that are simply beyond -a possibility of existence. While I will not go so far as to admit that -had I known that there was a trace of negro blood in Burton I should have -forbidden his paying court to my granddaughter, still I will confess -that I should have considered that fact and consulted with you before -consenting to his seeking Lucy’s hand. However, it is too late now, John. -He has won our girl’s heart and knowing her as you do you must appreciate -the consequences of the disclosure of this discovery and the abrupt -termination of her blissful anticipations. It is not only a question of -the health and happiness of our dear girl, but her very life would be -placed in jeopardy.” - -This seemed an unexpected or unrealized phase of the situation to the -first speaker, for he made no reply at once but sat with troubled brow -gazing into the fire for several minutes, then with a sigh so deep that -it was almost a groan, exclaimed: - -“Oh! that I had known sooner! I am an old fool! I might have suspected -this and investigated Burton’s family. John Dunlap, d——n you for the -old idiot that you are,” and rising he began pacing the floor; his -brother watched him with eyes of tender, almost womanly affection until -a suspicious moisture dimmed the sight of his worried second self. Going -to him and taking him by the arm he joined him in his walk back and forth -through the room, saying: - -“John, don’t worry yourself so much old chap, there is nothing to fear; -what if there be a slight strain of negro blood in Burton? It will -disappear in his descendants and even did Lucy know all that you have -learned, she loves him and would marry him anyhow. You know her heart and -her high sense of justice. She would not blame him and really it is no -fault of his.” - -“You say,” broke in his brother, “that the negro blood will disappear -in Burton’s descendants? That is just what may not happen! Both in the -United States and Haiti I have seen cases of breeding back to the type -of a remote ancestor where negro blood, no matter how little, ran in the -veins of the immediate ancestor. In the animal kingdom see the remoteness -of the five toed horse, yet even now sometimes a horse is born with five -toes. Man is but an animal of the highest grade.” - -“Well, even granting what you say about the remote possibility of -breeding back, you know that our ancestors years ago stood shoulder to -shoulder with Garrison, Beecher and those grand heroes who maintained -that the enslavement of the negro was a crime, and that the color of the -skin made no difference—that all men were brothers and equal.” - -“Yes, I know and agree with our forefathers in all of that,” exclaimed -the sun burned J. Dunlap with some show of impatience. “But while slavery -was all wrong and equality before the law is absolutely right, still -I have seen both in this country and in the West Indies such strange -evidence of the inherent barbarism in the negro race that I am almost -ready to paraphrase a saying of Napoleon and declare, ‘Scratch one with -negro blood in him and you find a barbarian.’” - -“Your long residence in disorderly Haiti, where your health and our -interest kept you has evidently prejudiced you,” replied the fair J. -Dunlap. “Remember that for generations our family has extended the -hospitality of our homes to those of negro blood provided they were -educated, cultured people.” - -“Yes, James, Yes! Provided they had the culture and education created -by the white man, and to be frank between ourselves, James, there has -been much affectation about the obliteration of race distinction even in -the case of our own family, and you know it! We Dunlaps have made much -of our apparent liberality and consistency, but in our hearts we are as -much race-proud Aryans as those ancestors who drove the race-inferior -Turanians out of Europe.” - -James Dunlap was as honest as his more impetuous brother. Suddenly -stopping and confronting him with agitated countenance, he said: “You -are right, John, in what you say about our affecting social equality -with those of negro blood. God knows had I been aware of the facts that -you have hastened from Port au Prince to lay before me all might have -been different; our accursed affectation may have misled Burton, who is -an honorable gentleman, no matter if his mother was a quadroon. Social -equality may be all right, but where it leads to the intermarriage of the -races all the Aryan in me protests against it, but it is too late and -we must trust to Divine Providence to correct the consequences of the -Dunlap’s accursed affectation.” - -“I expected Lucy to marry Jack Dunlap, the son of our cousin; then the -old sign might have answered for another hundred years. Lucy and Jack -were fond of each other always, and I thought when two years ago I left -Boston for Haiti that the match was quite a settled affair. Why did you -not foster a marriage that would have been so satisfactory from every -standpoint?” - -“I did hope that Lucy would marry your namesake, dear brother; -don’t blame me; while I believe that the boy was really fond of my -granddaughter, still, being poor, and having the Dunlap pride he -positively declined the position in our office that I offered him. I -wished to keep him near Lucy and to prepare him to succeed us as ‘J. -Dunlap.’ When I made the offer he said in that frank, manly, sailor -man fashion of his that he was worthless in an office and he wished no -sinecure by reason of being our kinsman; that he was a sailor by nature -and loved the sea; that he wished to make his own way in the world; that -if we could fairly advance him in his profession he would thank us, but -that was all that he could accept at our hands.” - -“See that now!” exclaimed the listener. “Blood will tell. The blood of -some old Yankee sailor man named Dunlap spoke when our young kinsman made -that reply. Breed back! Yes indeed we do.” - -“No persuasion could move the boy from the position he had taken and as -he held a master’s certificate and had proven a careful mate I gave him -command of our ship ‘Lucy’ in the China trade. I imagine there was some -exhibition of feeling at the parting of Lucy and John, as my girl seemed -much depressed in spirits after he left. - -“You recall how Walter Burton came to us fifteen years ago with a letter -from his father, our correspondent in Port au Prince, saying that he -wished his son to enter Harvard and asking us to befriend him. The lad -was handsome and clever and we never dreamed of his being other than -of pure blood. He was graduated at the head of his class, brilliant, -amiable, fascinating. Our house was made bright by his frequent visits. - -“When his father died, leaving his great wealth to Walter, he begged -to invest it with us, and liking the lad we were glad to have him with -us. Beginning at the bottom, by sheer force of ability and industry, -within ten years he has become our manager. I am sure John Dunlap, -your namesake, never told Lucy that he loved her before he sailed for -China. The pride of the man would hold back such a declaration to our -heiress. So with Jack away, his love, if it exist, for Lucy untold, it -is not strange that Burton, and he is a most charming man, in constant -attendance upon my granddaughter should have won her heart. He is -handsome, educated, cultured and wealthy. I could imagine no cause for an -objection, so when he asked for Lucy’s hand I assented. The arrangements -are completed and they will be married next month. Lucy wished you to -witness the ceremony and wrote you and you hasten from Haiti home with -this unpleasant discovery. Now, John, think of Lucy and tell me, brother, -what your heart says is our duty.” - -James Dunlap, exhausted by the vehement earnestness that he had put into -this long speech, recounting the events and circumstances that had led -up to the approaching marriage of his granddaughter, dropped into one of -the large armchairs near the fire, waiting for a reply, while his brother -continued his nervous tramp across the room. - -Silence was finally disturbed by a light knock on the door and a -messenger entered, saying that Captain Dunlap begged permission to speak -with the firm a few moments. When the name was announced the two brothers -exchanged glances that seemed to say, “The man I was thinking of.” - -“Show him in, of course,” cried John Dunlap, eagerly stopping in his -monotonous pacing up and down the room. - -The door opened again and there entered the room a man of about -twenty-seven years of age, rather below the medium height of Americans, -but of such breadth of shoulders and depth of chest as to give evidence -of unusual physical strength. A sailor, every inch a sailor, anyone -could tell, from the top of his curly blonde hair to the sole of his -square toed boots. His sunburnt face, while not handsome, according to -the ideals of artists, was frank, manly, bold—a brave, square jawed -Anglo-Saxon face, with eyes of that steely gray that can become as tender -as a mother’s and as fierce as a tiger’s. - -“Come in, Jack,” cried both of the old gentlemen together. - -“Glad to see you my boy,” added John Dunlap. “How did you find your good -mother and the rest of our friends in Bedford? I only landed today; came -from Port au Prince to see the Commons once more; heard that the ‘Lucy’ -and her brave master, my namesake, had arrived a week ahead of me, safe -and sound, from East Indian waters.” - -So saying he grasped both of the sailor’s hands and shook them with the -genuine cordiality of a lad of sixteen. - -“Have you seen my granddaughter since your return, Captain Jack?” -inquired James Dunlap, as he shook the young man’s hand. - -“I was so unfortunate as to call when she was out shopping, and as Mrs. -Church, the housekeeper, told me that she was so busy preparing for the -approaching wedding that she was engaged all the time, I have hesitated -to call again,” replied the sailor, as with a somewhat deeper shade of -red in his sun burned face he seated himself between the twins. - -“Lucy will not thank Mrs. Church for that speech if it is to deprive -her of the pleasure of welcoming her old playmate and cousin back to -Boston and home. You must come and dine with us tomorrow,” said Lucy’s -grandfather. - -“I am much obliged for your kind invitation, sir, but if you will only -grant the request I am about to make of the firm, my next visit to my -cousin will be to say goodby, as well as to receive a welcome home from a -voyage.” - -“Why, what do you mean, lad!” exclaimed both of the brothers -simultaneously. - -Concealment or deception was probably the most difficult of all things -for this frank man with the free spirit of the sea fresh in his soul, so -that while he answered the color surged up stronger and stronger in his -face until the white brow, saved from the sun by his hat, was as red as -his close shaven cheeks. - -“Well, sir, this is what I mean. I learned yesterday that the storm we -encountered crossing the Atlantic coming home had strained my ship so -badly that it will be two months before she is out of the shipwright’s -hands.” - -“What of that, Jack,” broke in the darker J. Dunlap. “Take a rest at -home. I know your mother will be delighted, and speaking from a financial -standpoint, as you know, it makes not the least difference.” - -“I was going to add, sir, that this morning I learned that Captain -Chadwick of your ship ‘Adams,’ now loaded and ready to sail for -Australia, was down with pneumonia and could not take the ship out, -and that there was some difficulty in securing a master that filled -the requirements of your house. I therefore applied to Mr. Burton for -the command of the ‘Adams,’ but he absolutely refused to consider the -application saying that as I had been away for almost two years, that it -would be positively brutal to even permit me to go to sea again so soon, -and that the ‘Adams’ might stay loaded and tied to the dock ten years -rather than I should leave home so speedily.” - -“Burton is exactly right, I endorse every word he has said. You can’t -have the ‘Adams’!” said James Dunlap with emphasis. “What would Martha -Dunlap, your mother, and our dear cousin’s widow, think if we robbed her -of her only son so soon after his return from a long absence from home?” - -“My mother knows, sir, that my stay at home will be very brief. She -expects me to ask to go to sea again almost immediately. I told her -all about it when I first met her upon my return,” and as he spoke the -shipmaster’s gaze was never raised from the nautical cap that he held in -his hand. - -“Well! You are not going to sea again immediately, that is all about -it. You have handled the ‘Lucy’ for two years, away from home, using -your own judgment, in a manner that, even were you not our kinsman, -would entitle you to a long rest at the expense of our house as grateful -shipowners,” said Lucy’s grandfather. - -The young man giving no heed to the compliment contained in the remarks -made by James Dunlap, but looking up and straight into the eyes of the -brother just arrived from Haiti, said so earnestly that there could be no -question of his purpose: - -“I wish to get to sea as soon as possible. If I cannot sail in the -‘Adams,’ much as I dislike to leave you, sirs, I must seek other employ.” - -“The devil you will!” exclaimed his godfather angrily. - -“Why, if you sail now you will miss your cousin’s wedding and disappoint -her,” added James Dunlap. - -“Again, gentlemen, I say that I shall get to sea within a few days. I -either go in the ‘Adams’ or seek other employ,” and all the time he was -speaking not once did the sailor remove his steady gaze from the eyes of -him for whom he was named. - -To say that the Dunlap brothers were astonished is putting it too mildly; -they were amazed. The master of a Dunlap ship was an object of envy -to every shipmaster out of Boston—the pay and employ was the best in -America—that a kinsman and master should even propose to leave their -employ was monstrous. In amazement both of the old gentlemen looked at -the young man in silence. - -Suddenly as old John Dunlap looked into young John Dunlap’s honest eyes -he read something there, for first leaning forward in his chair and -gazing more intently into the gray eyes of the sailor, he sprang to his -feet and grasping the arm of his young kinsman he fairly hauled him to -the window at the other end of the room, then facing him around so that -he could get a good look at his face, he almost whispered: - -“Jack, when did you learn first that Lucy was to be married?” - -“When I came ashore at Boston one week ago.” - -The answer came so quickly that the question must have been read in the -eyes of the older man before uttered. - -“I thought so,” said the old man softly and sadly, as he walked, still -holding the sailor by the arm, back to the fire, and added as he neared -his brother: - -“James, Jack wants the ‘Adams’ and is in earnest. I can’t have him leave -our employ; therefore he must go as master of that ship.” - -“But, brother, think of it,” exclaimed James Dunlap. - -“There is no but about it, James, I wish him to sail in our ship, the -‘Adams,’ as master. I understand his desire and endorse his wish to get -to sea.” - -“Oh! Of course if you really are in earnest just instruct Burton in the -premises, but Jack must dine with us tomorrow and see Lucy or she will -never forgive him or me.” - -“Don’t you see that the lad has always loved Lucy, is heartbroken over -her marriage and wants to get away before the wedding?” cried John -Dunlap, as he turned after closing the door upon Captain Jack’s departing -figure. - -“What a blind old fool I am not to have seen or thought of that!” -exclaimed his brother. - -“How I wish in my soul it was our cousin that my girl was going to marry -instead of Burton, but it is too late, too late.” - -Sadly the darker Dunlap brother echoed the words of Lucy’s grandfather, -as he sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands: - -Too late! Too late! Too late! - - - - -II. - - -“You don’t mean that Mr. Dunlap has consented to your going out to -Australia in charge of the ‘Adams,’ do you, Captain Jack?” - -The man who asked the question, as he rose from the desk at which he -was sitting, was quite half a head taller than the sea captain whom -he addressed. His figure was elegant and graceful, though slim; his -face possessed that rare beauty seen only on the canvas of old Italian -masters, clearly cut features, warm olive complexion in which the color -of the cheeks shows in subdued mellow shadings, soft, velvet-like brown -eyes, a mouth of almost feminine character and proportion filled with -teeth as regular and white as grains of rice. - -Save only that the white surrounding the brown of his beautiful eyes -might have been clearer, that his shapely hands might have been more -perfect, had a bluish tinge not marred the color of his finger nails, and -his small feet might have been improved by more height of instep, Walter -Burton was an ideal picture of a graceful, handsome, cultivated gentleman. - -“Yes, Mr. Burton, I am to sail as master of the ‘Adams.’ How soon can I -get a clearance and put to sea?” - -“It is an absolute outrage to permit you to go to sea again so soon. Why, -Captain, you have had hardly time to get your shore legs. You have not -seen many of your old friends; Miss Dunlap told me last evening that she -had not even seen you.” - -Burton’s voice was as soft, sweet and melodious as the tones of a silver -flute, and the thought of the young sailor’s brief stay at home seemed to -strike a chord of sadness that gave added charm to the words he uttered. - -“I expect to dine with my cousin tomorrow evening and will then give her -greeting upon my home coming and at the same time bid her goodby upon my -departure.” - -“I declare, Jack, this is awfully sad to me, old chap, and I know Lucy -will be sorely disappointed. You know that we are to be married next -month and Lucy has said a dozen times that she wished you to be present; -that you had always been a tower of strength to her and that nothing -could alarm or make her nervous if, as she put it, ‘brave and trustworthy -Jack be near.’” - -The sailor’s face lost some of its color in spite of the tan that sun -and sea had given it, as he listened to words that he had heard Lucy -say when, as a boy and girl, they had climbed New Hampshire’s hills, or -sailed along Massachusetts’ coast together. - -“I shall be sorry if Lucy be disappointed, but I am so much of a sea-swab -now that I am restless and unhappy while ashore.” - -What a poor liar young John Dunlap was. His manner, or something, not -his words, in that instant revealed his secret to Burton, as a flash of -lightning in the darkness discloses a scene, so was Jack’s story and -reason for hurried departure from Boston made plain. - -By some yet unexplained process of mental telegraphy the two young men -understood each other. Spontaneously they extended their hands and in -their warm clasp a bond of silent sympathy was established. Thus they -stood for a moment, then Burton said in that sad, sweet voice of his: - -“Jack, dear old chap, I will get your clearance papers tomorrow and you -may put to sea when you please, but see Lucy before you sail.” - -Ere Dunlap could reply the door of the manager’s office opened and there -entered the room a man of such peculiar appearance as to attract the -attention of the most casual observer. He was thin, even to emaciation. -The skin over his almost hairless head seemed drawn as tightly as the -covering of a drum. The ghastliness of his dead-white face was made more -apparent by the small gleaming black eyes set deep and close to a huge -aquiline nose, and the scarlet, almost bloody stripe that marked the -narrow line of his lips. - -“Beg pardon,” said the man, seeing someone with Burton, and then, -recognizing who the visitor was, added: - -“Oh, how are you, Jack? I did not know that you were with the manager,” -and he seemed to put the faintest bit of emphasis upon the word -“manager.” - -“Well, what is it, Chapman?” said Burton somewhat impatiently. - -“I only wished to inform you that I have secured a master for the -‘Adams.’ Captain Mason, who was formerly in our employ, has applied for -the position and as he was satisfactory when with us before I considered -it very fortunate for us to secure his services just now.” - -“The ‘Adams’ has a master already assigned to her,” interrupted the -manager. - -“Why! When? Who?” inquired the superintendent eagerly. - -“The ‘Adams’ sails in command of Captain Dunlap here.” - -The gleaming black eyes of Chapman seemed to bury their glances into the -very heart of the manager as he stretched his thin neck forward and asked: - -“Did you give him the ship?” - -“J. Dunlap made the assignment of Captain Jack to the ship today at his -own request and contrary to my wishes,” said Burton abruptly, somewhat -annoyed at Chapman’s manner. - -It was now the turn of Jack to stand the battery of those hawk eyes of -the superintendent, who sought to read the honest sailor’s soul as he -shot his glances into Jack’s clear gray eyes. - -“Ah! Cousin Jack going away so soon and our Miss Lucy’s wedding next -month. How strange!” Chapman seemed speaking to himself. - -“If that is all, Chapman, just say to Mason that the firm appointed a -master to the ‘Adams’ without your knowledge; therefore he can’t have the -ship,” said Burton with annoyance in his tone and manner, dismissing the -superintendent with a wave of his hand toward the door. - -When Chapman glided out of the room, the man moved always in such a -stealthy manner that he appeared to glide instead of walk, Burton -exclaimed: - -“Do you know, Jack, that that man Chapman can irritate me more by his -detective demeanor than any man I ever saw could do by open insult. I am -ashamed of myself for allowing such to be the case, but I can’t help it. -To have a chap about who seems to be always playing the Sherlock Holmes -act is wearing on one’s patience. Why, confound it! If he came in this -minute to say that we needed a new supply of postage stamps he would make -such a detective job of it that I should feel the uncomfortable sensation -that the mailing clerk had stolen the last lot purchased.” - -Jack, who disliked the sneaky and secretive as much as any man alive and -had just been irritated himself by Chapman’s untimely scrutiny, said: - -“I am not astonished and don’t blame you. While I have known Chapman all -my life, I somehow, as a boy and man, have always felt when talking to -him that I was undergoing an examination before a police magistrate.” - -“Of course I ought to consider that he has been with the house for more -than forty years and is fidelity and faithfulness personified to ‘J. -Dunlap,’ but he is so absurdly jealous and suspicious that he would wear -out the patience of a saint, and I don’t pretend to be one,” supplemented -Burton. - -“Half the time,” said Jack, glad apparently to discuss Chapman and thus -avoid the subject which beneath the surface of their conversation was -uppermost in the minds of both Burton and himself. - -“I have not the slightest idea what ‘Old Chap,’ as I call him, is driving -at. He goes hunting a hundred miles away for the end of a coil of rope -that is lying at his very feet, and he is the very devil, too, for -finding out anything he wishes to know. Why, when I was a boy and used to -get into scrapes, if ‘Old Chap’ cornered me I knew it was no use trying -to get out of the mess and soon learned to plead guilty at once,” and -Jack smiled in a dreary kind of way at the recollection of some of his -boyish pranks. - -“Well, let old Chapman, the modern Sherlock Holmes, and his searching -disposition go for the present. Promise to be sure to dine with Lucy -tomorrow evening. She expects me to be there also, as she is going to -have one or two young women and needs some of the male sex to talk to -them. I know that she will want you all to herself,” said Burton. - -“Yes, I’ll be on hand all right tomorrow night and you get my papers in -shape during the day, as I will sail as early day after tomorrow as the -tide serves,” replied the captain. - -“By the way, Jack! Send your steward to me when you go aboard to take -charge of the ‘Adams’ in the morning. Tell him to see me personally. You -sailors are such queer chaps and care so little about your larder that I -am going to see to it myself that you don’t eat salt pork and hard tack -on your voyage out, nor drink bilge water, either.” - -“You are awfully kind, Burton, but you need not trouble yourself. I am -sure common sea grub is good enough for any sailor-man.” - -As they walked together toward the front door, when Captain Jack was -leaving the building, in the narrow aisle between the long rows of desks -they came face to face with the superintendent. He stepped aside and -gazing after them, whispered: - -“Strange, very strange, for Jack Dunlap to sail so soon.” - -“Be sure to send that steward of yours to me tomorrow, Jack,” called the -manager of “J. Dunlap” as the sturdy figure of the sailor disappeared in -the fog that filled the crooked street in which Boston’s oldest shipping -and banking house had its office. - -“And no ship ever sailed from Boston provided as yours shall be, poor old -chap,” muttered the manager as he hurried back to his own room in the -office. “There shall be champagne enough on board the ‘Adams,’ Jack, to -drink our health, if you so will, on our wedding day, even though you be -off Cape Good Hope.” - - * * * * * - -In the gloaming that dark November day the Dunlap brothers were seated -close together, side by side, in silence gazing into the heap of coals -that burned in the large grate before them. John Dunlap’s hand rested -upon the arm of his brother, as if in the mere touching of him who had -first seen the light in his company there was comfort. - -Burton thought, as he entered the private office that no finer picture -was ever painted than that made by these two fine old American gentlemen -as the flame from the crackling cannel coal shot up, revealing their -kind, gentle, generous faces in the surrounding gloom of the room. - -“Pardon me, gentlemen,” said the manager, pausing on the threshold, -hesitating to break in upon a scene that seemed almost sacred, “but I was -told that you had sent for me while I was out of the office.” - -“Come in, Burton, you were correctly informed,” said James Dunlap, still -neither changing his position nor removing his gaze from the fire. - -“My brother John and I have determined as a mark of love for our young -kinsman, Captain John Dunlap, and as an evidence of our appreciation -for faithful services rendered to us as mate and master, to make him a -present of our ship ‘Adams,’ now loaded for Australia,” continued James -Dunlap, speaking very low and very softly. - -“You will please have the necessary papers for the transfer made out -tonight. We will execute them in the morning and you will see that the -proper entry is made upon the register at the custom house. Have the full -value of the ship charged to the private accounts of my brother John and -myself, as the gift is a personal affair of ours and others interested in -our house must be fully indemnified,” continued the old man as he turned -his eyes and met his brother’s assenting look. - -The flame blazing up in the grate at that moment cast its light on -Burton’s flushed face as he listened to the closing sentence of Mr. James -Dunlap’s instructions. - -“Forgive me, sir, but I do not comprehend what you mean by ‘others -interested in our house.’ I believe other than yourselves I alone have -the honor to hold an interest in your house,” and moving forward in the -firelight where he would stand before the brothers he continued, almost -indignantly, his voice vibrating with emotion: - -“You do me bitter, cruel injustice if you think that I do not wish, nay -more, earnestly beg, to join in this gift. I have learned that today that -would urge me to plead for permission to share in this deed were it of -ten times the value of the ‘Adams.’” - -Quickly old John Dunlap, rising from his chair, placing his hand on -Burton’s shoulder and regarding him kindly, said: - -“I am glad to hear you say that, Burton, very glad. It proves your -heart to be right, but it cannot be as you wish. Jack is so sensitive -even about receiving aid from us, his kinsmen, that you must conceal the -matter from him, put the transfer and new registration with his clearance -papers and tell him it is our wish that they be not opened until he is -one week at sea.” - -“Could the transfer not be made just in the name of the house without -explanation? He might never think of my being interested,” urged the -manager eagerly. - -“You are mistaken, Walter,” said James Dunlap. “Within a month you might -see the ‘Adams’ sailing back into Boston harbor. I am sorry to deny you -the exercise of your generous impulse; we appreciate the intent, but -think it best not to hamper a gift to this proud fellow with anything -that might cause its rejection.” - -Burton, realizing the truth of the position taken by the brothers and -the hopelessness of gaining Jack Dunlap’s consent to be placed under -obligations to one not of his own blood, could offer no further argument -upon the subject. Dejected and disappointed he turned to leave the room -to accomplish the wishes expressed by the twins. As he reached the door -John Dunlap called to him. - -“Hold on a minute, Burton. Have we any interest in the cargo of the -‘Adams?’” - -“About one-quarter of her cargo is agricultural implements consigned to -our Australian agent for the account of the house,” quickly answered the -manager. - -“Charge that invoice to me and assign it to Jack.” - -“Charge it jointly to us both,” added James Dunlap. - -“No you don’t, James! We only agreed on the ship. John is my godson and -namesake. I have a right to do more than anyone else,” exultantly cried -the kind hearted old fellow, and for the first time that day he laughed -as he slapped his brother on the shoulder and thought of how he had -gotten ahead of him. - -Burton was obliged to smile at the sudden anxiety of Mr. John to get rid -of him when Mr. James began to protest against his brother’s selfishness -in wishing to have no partner in the gift of the cargo. - -“Now, you just hurry up those papers, Burton. Yes, hurry! Run along! Yes, -Yes,” and so saying old Mr. John fairly rushed him out of the room. - -“How I wish I were Captain Jack’s uncle, too,” thought Burton sadly, with -a heart full of generous sympathy for the man who he knew loved the woman -that ere a month would be Mrs. Burton. - - - - -III. - - -Some men have one hobby, some have many and some poor wretches have none. -David Chapman had three hobbies and they occupied his whole mind and -heart. - -First in place and honor was the house of J. Dunlap. “The pillared -firmament” might fall but his fidelity to the firm which he had served -for forty years could never fail. His was the fierce and jealous love -of the tigress for her cub where the house of Dunlap was concerned. He -actually suffered, as from mortal hurt, when any one or any thing seemed -to separate him from this great object of his adoration. - -He had ever regarded the ownership of even a small interest by Walter -Burton as an indignity, an outrage and a sacrilege. He hated him for -defiling the chiefest idol of his religion and life. He was jealous of -him because he separated in a manner the worshiper from the worshiped. - -Because solely of jealous love for this High Joss of his, Chapman would -have gladly, cheerfully suffered unheard of agonies to rid the house of -J. Dunlap of this irreverent interloper who did not bear the sacred name -of Dunlap. - -The discovery of anything concealed, unravelling a mystery, ferreting -out a secret was the next highest hobby in Chapman’s trinity of hobbies. -He was passionately fond of practicing the theory of deduction, and was -marvelously successful at arriving at correct conclusions. No crime, no -mystery furnished a sensation for the Boston newspapers that did not call -into play the exercise of this the second and most peculiar hobby of -Chapman. - -By some strange freak of nature in compounding the elements to form the -character of David Chapman, an inordinate love for music was added to the -incongruous mixture, and became the man’s third and most harmless hobby. -Chapman had devoted years to the study of music, from pure love of sweet -and melodious sounds. In the great and musical city of Boston no one -excelled him as master of his favorite instrument, the violoncello. Like -Balzac’s Herr Smucker, in his hours of relaxation, he bathed himself in -the flood of his own melody. - -Chapman owned, he was not poor, and occupied with his spinster sister, -who was almost as withered as himself, a house well down in the business -section of the city. He could not be induced to live in the more -desirable suburbs. They were too far from the temple of his chiefest -idol, the house of J. Dunlap. - -“Jack Dunlap sails as master of our ship ‘Adams’ day after tomorrow,” -suggested Chapman meditatively, as he sipped his tea and glanced across -the table at the dry, almost fossilized, prim, starchy, old lady seated -opposite him in his comfortable dining room that evening. - -“Impossible, David, the boy has only just arrived.” - -And the little old lady seemed to pick at the words as she uttered them -much as a sparrow does at crumbs of bread. - -“It is not impossible for it is a fact,” replied her brother dryly. - -“What is the reason for his sudden departure? Did the house order him to -sea again?” pecked out the sister. - -“No, that is the strange part of the affair. Jack himself especially -urged his appointment to the ship sailing day after tomorrow.” - -“Then it is to get away from Boston before Lucy is married. I believe he -is in love with her and can’t bear to see her marry Burton.” - -Oh! boastful man, with all your assumed superiority in the realm of -reason and your deductive theories and synthetical systems for forming -correct conclusions. You are but a tyro, a mere infant in that great -field of feeling where love is crowned king. The most withered, stale, -neglected being in whose breast beats a woman’s heart, by that mysterious -and sympathetic something called intuition can lead you like the child -that you are in this, woman’s own province. - -“You are entirely wrong, Arabella, as usual. Jack never thought of Miss -Lucy in that way; besides he and Burton are exceedingly friendly; can’t -you make it convenient to visit your friends in Bedford and see Martha -Dunlap? If anything be wrong with Jack, and I can help him, I shall be -glad to do so. The mother may be more communicative than the son.” - -“I will surely make the attempt to learn if anything be wrong, and -gladly, too; I have always loved that boy Jack, and if he be in trouble -I want you to help him all in your power, David.” The little old maid’s -face flushed in the earnestness of the expression. - -“Burton is still an unsolved problem to me,” and in saying the words -Chapman’s jaws moved with a kind of snap, like a steel trap, while his -eyes had the glitter of a serpent’s in them as he continued, “for years I -have observed him closely and I cannot make him out at all. I am baffled -by sudden changes of mood in the man; at times he is reckless, gay, -thoughtless, frivolous, and I sometimes think lacking in moral stamina; -again he is dignified, kind, courteous, reserved and seems to possess the -highest standard of morals.” - -“I don’t suppose that he is unlike other men; they all have moods. You do -yourself, David, and very unpleasant moods, too,” said Arabella with the -proverbial sourness of the typical New England spinster. - -“Well, I may have moods, as you say, Arabella, but I don’t break out -suddenly in a kind of frenzy of gaiety, sing and shout like a street Arab -and then as quickly relapse into a superlatively dead calm of dignity and -the irreproachable demeanor of a cultured gentleman. - -“Now, David, you are allowing your dislike for Burton and your prejudice -to overdraw the picture,” said prim Miss Arabella, as she daintily raised -the teacup to her lips. - -“I am not overdrawing the picture! I have seen and heard Burton when -he thought that he was alone in the office, and I say that there is -something queer about him; Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde of that old story -are common characters in comparison. I knew his father well; he was -an every-day sort of successful business man; whom his father married -and what she was like I do not know, but I shall find out some day, -as therein may lie the reading of the riddle,” retorted the brother -vehemently. - -“As Lucy Dunlap will be married to the man shortly and it will then be -too late to do anything, no matter what is the result of your inquiry, it -seems to me that you should cease to interest yourself in the matter,” -chirped the bird-like voice of Miss Arabella. - -“I can’t! I am absolutely fascinated by the study of this man’s strange, -incongruous character; you remember what I told you when I returned from -the only visit I ever made at Burton’s house. It was business that forced -me to go there, and I have never forgotten what I saw and heard. I am -haunted by something that I cannot define,” said Chapman, intensity of -feeling causing his pale face and hairless head to assume the appearance -of the bald-eagle or some other bird of prey. - -“Think of it, Arabella! That summer day as I reached the door of his -lonely dwelling, surrounded by that great garden, through the open -windows there came crashing upon my ears such a wild, weird burst of song -that it held me motionless where I stood. The sound of those musical -screams of melodious frenzy, dying away in rythmic cadence until it -seemed the soft summer breeze echoed the sweet harmony in its sighing. -Words, music and expression now wild and unbridled as the shriek of a -panther, and then low, gentle and soothing as the murmuring of a peaceful -brook,” cried Chapman, becoming more intense as his musical memory -reproduced the sounds he sought to describe. - -“David, you know that music is a passion with you, and doubtless your -sensitive ear gave added accent and meaning to the improvised music of a -careless, idle young man,” interrupted Miss Arabella. - -“Not so! Not so! I swear that no careless, idle man ever improvised -such wild melody; it is something unusual in the man; when at last the -outburst ceased, and I summoned strength to ring the bell, there was -something almost supernatural that enabled that frenzied musician to meet -me with the suavity of an ordinary cultured gentleman of Boston as Burton -did when I entered his sitting room.” - -“Brother, I fear that imagination and hatred in this instance are sadly -warping your usually sound judgment,” quietly replied the sedate sister, -seeing the increasing excitement of her brother. - -“Imagination created also, I suppose, the uncanny, barbaric splendor with -which his apartments were decorated which I described to you,” sneered -the man. - -“All young men affect something of that kind, I am told, in the adornment -of their rooms,” rejoined the spinster, mincing her words, and, old as -she was, assuming embarrassment in mentioning young men’s rooms. - -“Nonsense! Arabella, I have seen many of the Harvard men’s rooms. A -few swords, daggers, and other weapons; a skin or two of wild animals; -something of that kind, but Burton’s apartments were differently -decorated; masses of striking colors, gaudy, glaring, yet so blended by -an artistic eye that they were not offensive to the sight. Articles of -furniture of such strange, savage and grotesque shape as to suggest a -barbarian as the designer. The carving on the woodwork, the paneling, the -tone and impression created by sight of it all were such as must have -filled the souls of the Spanish conquerors when they first gazed upon -the barbaric grandeur of the Moors, as exposed to their wondering eyes by -the conquest of Granada.” - -“Don’t get excited, David!” said staid Miss Arabella. “Suppose that you -should discover something to the discredit of Burton, what use could and -would you make of it?” - -The veins in Chapman’s thin neck and bony brow became swollen and -distended as if straining to burst the skin that covered them; his eyes -flashed baleful fire, as extending his arm and grasping the empty air as -if it were his enemy, he fairly hissed: - -“I! I! I would tear him out of the house of J. Dunlap, intruder that he -is, and cast him into the gutter! Yea! though I tore the heartstrings -of a million women such as Lucy Dunlap! What is she or her heart in -comparison with the glory of Boston’s oldest business name?” - -Panting, as a weary hound, who exhausted but exultant, fastens his fangs -in the hunted stag, overcome by the violence of his hatred, David Chapman -dropped down into his chair. - - * * * * * - -Nestling among grand old oaks and profusion of shrubbery, now leafless -in the November air of New England, on the top of the highest hill in -that portion of the suburbs, sat the “Eyrie,” the bachelor home of Walter -Burton. - -Though the house was small, the conservatory adjoining it was one of the -largest in the city. Burton was an ardent lover of flowers, and an active -collector of rare plants. The house stood in the center of an extensive -and well kept garden through which winding paths ran in every direction. - -The place would have seemed lonely to one not possessing within himself -resources sufficient to furnish him entertainment independent of the -society of others. - -Burton never knew loneliness. He was an accomplished musician, an -artist of more than ordinary ability, a zealous horticulturist, and an -omnivorous devourer of books. - -A housekeeper who was cook at the same time, one man and a boy for the -garden and conservatory and a valet constituted the household servants of -the “Eyrie.” - -At the moment that Chapman’s wrathful mind was expressing its -concentrated hate for him, the owner of the white house on the hill -sat before the open grand piano in his music-room, his shapely hands -wandering listlessly over the keys, touching them once in a while in an -aimless manner. The young man’s mind was filled with other thoughts than -music. - -Chapman had drawn an accurate picture of Burton’s apartments in many -respects, yet he had forgotten to mention the many musical instruments -scattered about the rooms. Harp, guitar, mandolin, violin, banjo and -numberless sheets of music, some printed and some written, marked this -as the abode of a natural musician. Burton was equally proficient in the -use of each of the instruments lying about the room, as well as being the -author of original compositions of great beauty and merit. - -The odor of violets perfumed the whole house. Great bunches of these, -Burton’s favorite flower, filled antique and queerly shaped vases in each -room. - -Burton ceased to even sound the keys on which his hands rested, and as -some scene was disclosed to his sympathetic soul, his soft brown eyes -were dimmed by a suspicious moisture. Sighing sadly he murmured: - -“Poor Jack! While I am in a heaven of bliss with the woman I love, -surrounded by all that makes life enjoyable, he, poor old chap, alone, -heartsick and hopeless, will be battling with the stormy waves of the -ocean. Alas! Fate how inscrutable!” - -As his mind drifted onward in this channel of thought, he added more -audibly, “What a heart Jack has! There is a man! He will carry his secret -uncomplaining and in silence to his grave, that, too, without permitting -envy or jealousy to fill his soul with hatred; I would that I could do -something to assuage the pain of that brave heart.” And at the word -“brave” the stream of his wandering fancy seemed to take a new direction. - -“Brave! Men who have sailed with him say he knows no fear; the last -voyage they tell how he sprang into the icy sea, all booted as he was, -waves mountain high, the night of inky blackness, to save a worthless, -brutal Lascar sailor. Tender as a woman, when a mere child as careful -of baby Cousin Lucy as a granddame could be, and ever her sturdy little -knight and champion from babyhood. Poor Jack!” - -Again the current of his thought changed its course. He paused and -whispered to himself, “Lucy, am I worthy of her? Shall I prove as kind, -as true and brave a husband as Jack would be to her? Oh! God, I hope so, -I will try so hard. Sometimes there seems to come a strange inexplicable -spell over my spirit—a something that is beyond my control. A madness -seems to possess my very soul. Involuntarily I say and do that, during -the time that this mysterious influence holds me powerless in its grasp, -that is so foreign to my natural self that I shudder and grow sick at -heart at the thought of the end to which it may lead me.” - -At the recollection of some horror of the past the young man’s face paled -and he shivered as if struck by a cold blast of winter wind. - -“Ought I to tell Lucy of these singular manifestations? Ought I to alarm -my darling concerning something that may partly be imaginary? I am -uncertain what, loving her as I do, is right; I can always absent myself -from her presence when I feel that hateful influence upon me, and perhaps -after I am married I may be freed from the horrible thraldom of that -irresistible power that clutches me in its terrible grasp. I cannot bear -the idea of giving my dear love useless pain or trouble. Had I not better -wait?” - -At that moment some unpleasant fact must have suggested itself or rather -forced itself upon Burton’s mind for he pushed back the piano-stool and -rising walked with impatient steps about the room, saying: - -“It would be ridiculous! Absurd! Really unworthy of both Lucy and myself -even to mention the subject! Long ago that old, nonsensical prejudice had -disappeared, at least among cultivated people in America. There is not -a shade of doubt but that both the Messrs. Dunlap and Lucy are aware of -the fact that my mother was a quadroon. Doubtless that circumstance is -deemed so trivial that it never has occurred to them to mention it to me. -People of education and refinement, regardless of the color of skin, are -welcome in the home of the Dunlaps as everywhere else where enlightenment -has dispelled prejudice.” - -He paused and bursting into a musical and merry laugh at something that -his memory recalled, exclaimed, - -“Why, I have seen men and women as black as the proverbial ‘ace of -spades,’ the guests of honor in Mr. James Dunlap’s house, as elsewhere in -Boston. I shall neither bore nor insult the intelligence of my sweetheart -or her family by introducing the absurd subject of blood in connection -with our marriage. The idea of blood making any difference! Men are -neither hounds nor horses!” - -Laughing at the odd conceit that men, hounds and horses should be -considered akin by any one not absolutely benighted, he resumed his seat -at the piano and began playing a gay waltz tune then popular with the -dancing set of Boston’s exclusive circle. - -As Burton ended the piece of music with a fantastic flourish of his own -composition, he turned and saw his valet standing silently waiting for -his master to cease playing. - -“Ah! Victor, are the hampers packed carefully?” exclaimed Burton. - -“Yes, sir,” replied the valet, pronouncing his words with marked French -accent. “The steward at your club furnished all the articles on the list -that the housekeeper lacked, sir.” - -“You are sure that you put in the hampers the ‘44’ vintage of champagne, -the Burgundy imported by myself, and you examined the cigars to be -certain to get only those of the last lot from Havana?” - -“Quite sure, sir; I packed everything myself, as you told me you were -especially anxious to have only the very best selected,” said the little -Frenchman. - -“Now, listen, Victor; tomorrow I dine away from home, but before I leave -the house I shall arrange a box of flowers, which, with the hampers, -you are to carry in my dog-cart to Dunlap’s wharf and there you are to -have them placed in the cabin of the ship ‘Adams.’ You will open the box -of flowers and arrange them tastefully, as I know you can, about the -master’s stateroom—take a half-dozen vases to put them in.” - -“Very good, sir; it shall be done as you say, sir,” answered the valet -bowing and moving toward the door. - -“Hold on, Victor!” called Burton, “I wish to add just this: if by any -accident, no matter what, you fail to get these things on board the -‘Adams’ before she sails, my gentle youth, I will break your neck.” - -So admonished the servant bowed low and left the room, as his master -turned again to the piano and began to make the room ring with a furious -and warlike march. - - - - -IV. - - -The United States is famous for its beautiful women, but even in that -country where beauty is the common heritage of her daughters, Lucy -Dunlap’s loveliness of face and figure shone as some transcendent planet -in the bright heavens of femininity where all are stars. - -“How can you be so cruel, Jack, as to run away to sea again so soon and -when I need you so much?” - -The great hazel eyes looked so pleadingly into poor Jack’s that he could -not even stammer out an excuse for his departure. - -Sailors possibly appreciate women more than all other classes of men. -They are so much without their society that they never seem to regard -them as landsmen do, and Lucy Dunlap was an exceptional example of -womankind to even the most _blase_ landsman. Small wonder then that -sailor Jack, confused, could only gaze at the lovely being before him. - -Lucy Dunlap, though of the average height of women, seemed taller, so -round, supple and elastic were the proportions of her perfect figure. The -charm of intellectual power gave added beauty to a face whose features -would have caused an artist to realize that the ideal model did not exist -alone in the land of dreams. - -In the spacious drawing-room of Dunlap’s mansion were gathered those -who had enjoyed the sumptuous dinner served that evening in honor of -their seafaring kinsman. Mr. John Dunlap was relating his experiences in -Port au Prince to his old friend, Mrs. Church, while his brother, with -that old-fashioned courtliness that became him so well, was playing the -cavalier to Miss Winthrop, one of his granddaughter’s pretty friends. -Walter Burton was bending over Miss Stanhope, a talented young musician, -who, seated before the piano, was scanning a new piece of music. - -There seemed a mutual understanding between all of those present that -Lucy should monopolize her cousin’s attention on this the first occasion -that she had seen him for two years, and probably the last for a like -period of time. In a far corner of the great room Jack and Lucy were -seated when she asked the question mentioned, to which Jack finally made -awkward answer by saying: - -“Oh! well, Lucy, I am not of much account at social functions. I should -only be in some one’s way. I fancy my proper place is the quarter-deck of -a ship at sea.” - -“Don’t be absurd, Jack! You know much better than that,” said his cousin, -glancing at the manly, frank face beside her, the handsome, curly blonde -head carried high and firm, and the grand chest and shoulders of the man, -made more noticeable by the close fitting dress coat that he wore. - -“Why, half the women of our set in Boston will be in love with you if you -remain for my wedding. Please do, Jack. I will find you the prettiest -sweetheart that your sailor-heart ever pictured.” - -“I am awfully sorry, little cousin, to disappoint you, as you seem to -have expected me to be present at your wedding,” said Jack manfully, -attempting to appear cheerful. - -“And as for the sweetheart part of your suggestion, it may be ungallant -to say so, but I don’t believe there is any place in my log for that kind -of an entry.” - -“How odd it is, Jack, that you have never been in love; why, any woman -could love you, you big-hearted handsome sailor.” - -Lucy’s admiring glances rested upon the face of her cousin as innocently -as when a little maid she had kissed him and said that she loved him. - -“Yes, it is rather odd for a man never to love some woman, but I can’t -say that I agree that any woman could or would love me,” answered Jack -dryly, as he smiled at the earnest face turned toward him. - -Miss Stanhope played a magnificent symphony as only that clever artist -could; Walter Burton’s clear tenor voice rang out in an incomparable solo -from the latest opera, but Lucy and Jack, oblivious to all else, in low -and confidential tones conversed in the far corner of the room. - -As of old when she was a child, Lucy had nestled down close to her -cousin and resting one small hand upon his arm was artlessly pouring -out the whole story of her love for Walter Burton, her bright hopes and -expectations, the joy that filled her soul, the happiness that she saw -along the vista of the future; all with that freedom from reserve that -marks the exchange of confidences between loving sisters. - -The day of the rack and stake has passed, but as long as human hearts -shall beat, the day of torture can never come to a close; Jack listened -to the heart story of the innocent, confiding woman beside him, who, all -unaware of the torture she was inflicting, painted the future in words -that wrung more agony from his soul than rack or stake could have caused -his body. - -How bravely he battled against the pain that every word brought to his -breast! Pierced by a hundred darts he still could meet the artless gaze -of those bright, trusting, hazel eyes and smile in assurance of his -interest and sympathy. - -“But of course my being married must make no difference with you, Cousin -Jack. You must love me as you always have,” she said, as if the thought -of losing something she was accustomed to have just occurred to her mind. - -“I shall always love you, Lucy, as I ever have.” The sailor’s voice came -hoarse and deep from the broad breast that rose and fell like heaving -billows. - -“You know, Jack, that you were always my refuge and strength in time of -trouble or danger when I was a child, and even with dear Walter for my -husband I still should feel lost had I not you to call upon.” Lucy’s -voice trembled a little and she grasped Jack’s strong arm with the hand -that rested there while they had been talking. - -“You may call me from the end of the earth, my dear, and feel sure that -I shall come to you,” said Jack simply, but the earnest manner was more -convincing to the woman at his side than fine phrases would have been. - -“Oh! Jack! what a comfort you are, and how much I rely upon you. It makes -me quite strong and brave to know that my marriage will make no change in -your love for me.” - -“As long as life shall last, my cousin, I shall love you,” replied the -man almost sadly, as he placed his hand over hers that held his arm. - -“Or until some day you marry and your wife becomes jealous,” added Lucy -laughing. - -“Or until I marry and my wife is jealous,” repeated Dunlap with the -faintest kind of emphasis upon “until.” - -Miss Stanhope began to play a waltz of the inspiring nature that almost -makes old and gouty feet to tingle, and is perfectly irresistible to the -young and joyous. Burton and Miss Winthrop in a minute were whirling -around the drawing-room. How perfectly Burton could dance; his easy -rythmic steps were the very poetry of motion. Lucy and Jack paused to -watch the handsome couple as they glided gracefully through the room. - -“Does not Walter dance beautifully?” exclaimed Lucy as she followed the -dancers with admiring glances. - -“Bertie Winthrop, who was at Harvard with Walter, says that when they -were students and had their stag parties if they could catch Walter -in what Bertie calls ‘a gay mood,’ he would astonish them with his -wonderful dancing. Bertie vows that Walter can dance any kind of thing -from a vulgar gig to an exquisite ballet, but he is so awfully modest -about it that he denies Bertie’s story and will not dance anything but -the conventional,” continued Lucy. - -“Take a turn, Jack!” called Burton as he and his partner swept by the -corner where the sailor and his cousin were seated, and added as he -passed, “It is your last chance for some time.” - -“Come on, Jack,” cried Lucy springing up and extending her hands. A -moment more and Jack was holding near his bosom the woman for whom his -heart would beat until death should still it forever. - -Oft midst the howling winds and angry waves, when storm tossed on the -sea, will Jack dream o’er again the heavenly bliss of those few moments -when close to his heart rested she who was the beacon light of his -sailor’s soul. - -When the music of the waltz ended, Jack and his fair partner found -themselves just in front of the settee where John Dunlap and Mrs. Church -were seated. - -“Uncle John, I have been trying to induce Jack to stay ashore until after -my wedding,” said Lucy addressing Mr. John Dunlap who had been following -her and her partner with his eyes, in which was a pained expression, as -they had circled about the room. - -“Won’t you help me, Uncle John?” added the young woman in that pleading -seductive tone that always brought immediate surrender on the part of -both her grandfather and granduncle. - -“I am afraid, Lucy, that I can’t aid you this time,” replied the old -gentleman and there was so much seriousness in his sunburnt face that -Lucy exclaimed anxiously: - -“Why? What is the matter that the house must send Cousin Jack away almost -as soon as he gets home?” - -“Nothing is the matter, dear, but it is an opportunity for your cousin -to make an advancement in his profession, and you must not be selfish in -thinking only of your own happiness, my child. You know men must work and -women must wait,” replied her uncle. - -“Oh! Is that it? Then I must resign myself with good grace to the -disappointment. I would not for the world have any whim of mine mar dear -old Jack’s prospects,” and Lucy clasped both of her dimpled white hands -affectionately on her cousin’s arm, which she still retained after the -waltz ended, as she uttered these sentiments. - -“I know Jack would make any sacrifice for me if I really insisted.” - -“I am sure that he would, Lucy, so don’t insist,” said John Dunlap very -seriously and positively. - -Just then Burton began singing a mournfully sweet song, full of sadness -and pathos, accompanying himself on a guitar that had been lying on the -music stand. All conversation ceased. Every one turned to look at the -singer. What a mellow, rich voice had Walter Burton. What expression he -put into the music and words! - -What a handsome man he was! As he leaned forward holding the instrument, -and lightly touching the strings as he sang, Lucy thought him a perfect -Apollo. Her eyes beamed with pride and love as she regarded her future -husband. - -None noticed the flush and troubled frown on old John Dunlap’s face. -Burton’s crossed legs had drawn his trousers tightly around the limb -below the knee, revealing an almost total absence of calf and that the -little existing was placed higher up than usually is the case. That -peculiarity or something never to be explained had brought some Haitian -scene back to the memory of the flushed and frowning old man and sent a -pang of regret and fear through his kind heart. - -“God bless and keep you, lad! Jack, you are the last of the Dunlaps,” -said Mr. John Dunlap solemnly as they all stood in the hall when the -sailor was leaving. - -“Amen! most earnestly, Amen!” added Mr. James Dunlap, placing his hand on -Jack’s shoulder. - -“Good-by! dear Jack,” said Lucy sorrowfully while tears filled her eyes, -when she stood at the outer door of the hall holding her cousin’s hand. - -“Think of me on the twentieth of next month, my wedding day,” she added, -and then drawing the hand that she held close to her breast as if still -clinging to some old remembrance and anxious to keep fast hold of the -past, fearful that it would escape her, she exclaimed: - -“Remember, you are still my trusty knight and champion, Jack!” - -“Until death, Lucy,” replied the man, as he raised the little white hand -to his lips and reverently kissed it. - -She stood watching the retreating figure until it was hidden by the gloom -of the ghostly elms that lined the avenue. As she turned Burton was at -her side. - -“How horribly lonely Jack must be, Walter,” she said in pitying tones. - -“More so than even you realize, Lucy,” rejoined Burton sadly. - -Alone through the darkness strode a man with a dull, hard, crushing pain -in his brave, faithful heart. - - * * * * * - -“The child will be ruined,” said all the old ladies of the Dunlaps’ -acquaintance when they learned that it had been determined by the child’s -grandfather to keep the motherless and fatherless little creature at home -with him, rather than send her to reside with some remote female members -of her mother’s family. - -“Those two old gentlemen will surely spoil her to that degree that she -will be unendurable when she becomes a young woman,” asserted the women -with feminine positiveness. - -“They will make her Princess of the house of Dunlap, I suppose,” added -the most acrimonious. - -To a degree these predictions were verified by the result, but only to a -degree. The twin brothers almost worshiped the beautiful little maiden, -and did in very fact make her their Princess, and so, too, was she often -called; but possibly through no merit in the management of the brothers, -probably simply because Lucy was not spoilable was the desirable end -arrived at that she grew to be a most amiable and agreeable woman. - -The son of Mr. John Dunlap, the father of Lucy, survived but one year -the death of his wife, which occurred when Lucy was born. Thus her -grandfather and uncle became sole protectors and guardians of the child; -that is until the lad, Jack Dunlap, came to live at the house of his -godfather. - -Young Jack was the only child of a second cousin of the twin brothers; -his father had been lost at sea when Jack was yet a baby. His mother, -Martha Dunlap, had gladly availed herself of the kind offer of the boy’s -kinsman and godfather, when he proposed that the boy should come and -live with him in Boston, where he could obtain better opportunities for -securing an education than he could in the old town of Bedford. - -Jack was twelve years of age when he became an inmate of the Dunlap -mansion, and a robust, sturdy little curly haired chap he was; Princess -Lucy’s conquest was instantaneous. Jack immediately enrolled himself as -the chief henchman, servitor and guard of the pretty fairy-like maid of -six years. No slave was ever more obedient and humble. - -Great games awoke the echoes through Dunlap’s stately old dwelling; -in winter the lawn was converted into a slide, the fish-pond into a -skating-rink; in summer New Hampshire’s hills reverberated with the merry -shouts of Jack and “Princess” Lucy or flying over the blue waters of the -bay in the yacht that his godfather had given him. Jack, aided by Lucy’s -fresh young voice, sang rollicking songs of the sea. - -The old gentlemen dubbed Jack, “Lucy’s Knight,” and were always perfectly -satisfied when the little girl was with her cousin. - -“He is more careful of her than we are ourselves,” they would reply when -speaking of Jack and his guardianship. - -All the fuming of Miss Lucy’s maids and the complaints of Miss Lucy’s -governess availed nothing, for even good old Mrs. Church joined in the -conspiracy of the grandfather and uncle, saying: - -“She is perfectly safe in Jack’s care, and I wish to see rosy cheeks -rather than hear Emersonian philosophy from our pet.” - -Notwithstanding the “lots of fun,” as Jack used to call their frolics, -Lucy and Jack did good hard work with their books, music and “all the -rest of it,” as the young people called drawing and dancing. - -When Jack became twenty years of age, and was prepared to enter Harvard -college, where Mr. John Dunlap proposed to send him, he made his -appearance one day in the city and asked to see his kind kinsman. - -“I thank you, sir, for your great kindness in offering to place me in -Harvard College, as I do for all the countless things you have done for -me, but I can’t accept your generous proposition. You will not be angry, -I am sure, for you know, I hope, how grateful I am for all you have done. -But, sir, I have a widowed mother and I wish to go to work that I may -earn money for her and obtain a start in life for myself,” said Jack with -boyish enthusiasm when admitted to the presence of Mr. John Dunlap. - -Though the old gentleman urged every argument to alter Jack’s -determination, the boy stood firmly by what he had said. - -“You are my namesake, the only male representative of our family; neither -you nor your mother shall ever want. I have more money than I need.” Many -other inducements were offered still the young man insisted upon the -course that he laid out for himself. - -“I am a sailor’s son and have a sailor’s soul; I wish to go to sea,” Jack -finally exclaimed. - -Both of the twins loved Jack. He had been so long in their house and so -closely associated with Lucy that he seemed more to them than a remote -young kinsman. - -Finding Jack’s decision unalterable, a compromise was effected on the -subject. Jack should sail in one of their coasting ships, and when on -shore at Boston continue to make their house his home. - -Great was the grief of Lucy at parting with her Jack, as she called -him. But consoling herself with the thought that she should see him -often and that the next autumn she should be obliged to leave Boston -for some dreadful seminary and thus they would be separated under any -circumstances, she dried her eyes and entered with enthusiasm into his -preparations for sea, saying, “I have a good mind to dress up as a boy -and go with Jack! I declare I would do it, were it not for grandfather -and Uncle John.” - -Jack’s kit on his first voyage was a marvel in the way of a sailor’s -outfit; Lucy had made a bankrupt of herself in the purchase of the most -extraordinary handkerchiefs, caps, shirts and things of that kind that -could be found in Boston, saying proudly to Mrs. Church when displaying -the assortment: - -“Nothing is too good for my sailor boy.” - -After several years of sea service Mr. James Dunlap, during the residence -of his brother in Haiti, had tendered to Jack a position in the office, -hoping that having seen enough of the ocean he would be willing to -remain ashore and possibly with a half-formed hope that Jack would win -Lucy’s hand and thus the house of Dunlap continue to survive for other -generations. - -Much to the chagrin of Lucy’s grandfather, Jack absolutely refused to -entertain the proposition, saying: - -“I should be of no earthly use in the office. I am not competent to fill -any position there, and I positively will not accept a sinecure. If you -wish to advance me, do so in the line of my profession! Make me master -of your ship Lucy and let me take her for a two years’ cruise in Eastern -waters.” - -Thus it happened that Jack was absent from Boston for two years and -returned to find that he had lost that, that all the gold of El Dorado -could not replace—the woman whom he loved. - - - - -V. - - -“Mother Sybella, Mother Sybella! May I approach?” yelled every few -minutes the man seated on a rock half way up the hill that rose steep -from the Port au Prince highway. - -The neglected and broken pavement of the road that remained as a monument -to the long-departed French governors of Haiti was almost hidden by the -rank, luxurious growth of tropical plants on either side of it. As seen -from the hillside, where the man was sitting, it seemed an impracticable -path for even the slowly moving donkeys which here and there crawled -between the overhanging vegetation. - -The man looked neither to the right nor to the left, but throwing back -his head, at intervals of possibly fifteen minutes, as if addressing the -blazing sun above, bawled out at the top of his voice: - -“Mother Sybella! Mother Sybella! May I approach?” - -The man was a mulatto, though with features markedly of the negro type; -around his head he wore a much soiled white handkerchief. His body was -fairly bursting out of a tight-fitting blue coat of military fashion, -adorned with immense brass buttons. His bare feet and long thin shanks -appeared below dirty duck trousers that once had been white. - -There evidently was something awe-inspiring about the name that he -shouted even though the rest of the words were unintelligible to the -natives. The man shouted his request in the English language; the natives -of Haiti used a jargon of French, English and native dialect difficult to -understand and impossible to describe or reproduce in writing. - -If, when the man called, a native were passing along the highway, as -sometimes happened, he would spring forward so violently as to endanger -the safety of the huge basket of fruit or vegetables that he carried upon -his head, and glancing over his shoulder with dread in his distended, -white and rolling eyes, would break into a run and speed forward as if in -mortal terror. - -The man had just given utterance to a louder howl than usual when he felt -the grip of bony claw-like fingers on his shoulder; with one unearthly -yell he sprang to his feet, turned and fell upon his knees before the -figure that so silently had stolen to his side. - -“Has the yellow dog brought a bone to his mother?” The words were spoken -in the patois of the native Haitians with which the man was familiar. - -The speaker was a living, animated but mummified black crone of a woman. -She leaned upon a staff made of three human thigh bones, joined firmly -together by wire. Her fleshless fingers looked like the talons of a -vulture as she gripped the top of her horrid prop and bent forward toward -the man. - -Her age seemed incalculable in decades; centuries appeared to have passed -since she was born. The wrinkles in her face were as gashes in black -and aged parchment, so deep were they. The skin over her toothless jaws -was so drawn and stretched by untold time that the very hinges of the -jaw were plainly traced; in cavernous, inky holes dug deep beneath the -retreating forehead sparkled, like points of flame, eyes so bright and -glittering that sparks of electric fire shot forth in the gaze by which -she transfixed the groveling wretch at her feet. - -“Answer, Manuel; what have you brought for Mother Sybella?” - -Finally the startled and fearful Manuel found courage to reply: - -“The coffee, sugar, ham and calico are in that bundle lying over there, -Mother Sybella,” and the man pointed to a roll of matting near him. - -“And I told you to gather all the gossip and news of Port au Prince. Have -you done so?” queried the hag with a menacing gesture. - -“Yes! yes! Mother; every command has been obeyed. I have learned what -people are talking of, and, too, I have brought some printed talk from -among the Yankees,” cried the mulatto quickly, anxious to propitiate the -crone. - -“Fool, you know I can’t make out the Yankee printed talk,” snarled the -sunken lips. - -“I can though, Mother Sybella; I lived among the Yankees many years. I -will tell you what they talk of concerning our country,” said the man -rising from his knees. - -“I will listen here in the sun’s rays; I am cold. Sit there at my feet,” -mumbled the hag, crouching down on the rock that had been occupied by -Manuel. - -“Begin,” she commanded fiercely, fixing her keen gaze upon the yellow -face below her. - -“Dictator Dupree is unable to obtain money to pay the army; the Yankees -and English will not make a loan unless concessions be made to the -whites.” - -“What says Dupree?” muttered the old woman. - -“Dupree fears an insurrection of the people if he make concessions to the -whites, and an outbreak by the army if he fail to pay the arrears due -to it. He is distracted and knows not which move to make,” answered the -yellow man at the hag’s feet. - -“Dupree is a coward! Let him come to me and see how quickly his -difficulties disappear! The army is worthless, the people powerful,” -cried Sybella. - -“Go on! Squash-head,” she ordered. - -“Twenty priests, with a Bishop at their head, have come from France, and -go among the people urging them to attend the churches, and threatening -them with awful punishment hereafter if they fail to heed the commands of -the priests,” continued Manuel. - -“Much good may it do the black-gowns,” chuckled the old creature, making -a horrible grimace in so doing. - -“My children fear Sybella more than the black-gowns’ hell,” she cackled -exultantly. - -“The priests are trying to persuade the Dictator to give them permission -to re-open those schools that have been closed so long, but Dupree has -not consented yet. He seems to fear the anger of the black party in -Haiti,” said the witch’s newsman. - -“He does well to hesitate!” exclaimed Sybella. - -“If he consent, I shall set up my altar, call my children around me and -then! and then! No matter, he is a coward; he will never dare consent,” -she added. The mulatto here drew from his bosom a newspaper. Shading his -eyes from the sun’s glare, he began searching for any item of news in the -Boston paper that he had secured in Port au Prince, which might interest -his terrifying auditor. - -“Do you wish to know about the Yankee President and Congress?” he asked -humbly, pausing as he turned the sheet of the newspaper. - -“No! you ape, unless they mention our island,” replied the woman, her -watchful eyes looking curiously at the printed paper that the man held. - -“About the ships coming and going between the United States and Haiti?” -he asked anxiously, as if fearing that he might miss something of -importance to the black seeress. - -“No! That is an old story; the accursed Yankees are ever coming and -going, restless fools,” said the woman. - -“Here is a long account of a grand wedding of a wealthy Haitien that has -just taken place in Boston. He married the granddaughter and heiress of -J. Dunlap, who is largely interested in our island,” remarked Manuel -interrogatively. - -“His name! fool, his name!” almost screamed the hag, springing to -her feet with an agility fearful to contemplate in one so decrepit, -suggesting supernatural power to the beholder. Manuel, with trembling -lip, cried, as she fastened him in the shoulder with her claws: - -“Burton! Walter Burton!” - -Without changing, by even a line her fingers from the place where she had -first fixed them in the flesh of the frightened man, she dragged him, -bulky as he was, to his feet, and up the steep, pathless hillside with a -celerity that was awful to the frightened mulatto. - -A deep ravine cutting into the back of the hill formed a precipice. Along -the face of the rocky wall thus formed a narrow, ill-defined footway ran, -almost unsafe for a mountain goat. Nearly a thousand feet below, dark -and forbidding in the gloom of jungle and spectral moss-festooned trees, -roared the sullen mutterings of a mountain torrent. - -When near the top of the hill, with a quick whirl the black crone darted -aside and around the elbow of the hill, dragging Manuel along at a -furious pace, she dashed down the precipitous path with the swiftness and -confidence of an Alpine chamois. - -Half way down the cliff, a ledge of rock made scanty foundation for a hut -of roughly hewn saplings, thatched with the palm plants of the ravine -below. So scarce was room for the hovel that but one step was necessary -to reach the brink of the declivity. - -As the excited hag reached the aperture that served as the doorway of her -den, a hideous, blear-eyed owl, who like an evil spirit kept watch and -ward at the witch’s castle, gave forth a ghostly “Hoot! Hoot!” of welcome -to his mistress. At the unexpected sound the mulatto’s quivering knees -collapsed and he sank down, nearly rolling over the edge of the precipice. - -Sybella seemed not to feel the weight of the prostrate man whom she still -clutched and hauled into the dark interior of her lair. - -Dropping the almost senseless man, she threw some resinous dry brush upon -a fire that was smouldering in the center of the hut. As the flame shot -up Manuel opened his eyes. With a shriek he sprang to his feet, terror -shaking his every limb as he stared about him. - -Two giant rats were tugging at some bone, most human in shape; each -trying to tear it from the teeth of the other, as squealing they circled -around the fire. In corners toads blinked their bead-like eyes, while -darting lizards flashed across the floor. Slowly crawling along between -the unplastered logs of the walls snakes of many colors moved about or -coiled in the thatch of the roof hung head downward and hissed as they -waved their heads from side to side. - -Along the wall a bark shelf stood. On it were two small skulls with -handles made of cane. These ghastly vessels were filled with milk. Conch -shells and utensils made of dried gourds were scattered on the shelf, -among which a huge and ugly buzzard stalked about. - -An immense red drum hung from a pole fixed in a crevice of the rock and -by its side dangled a long and shining knife. A curtain of woven grass -hanging at the rear of the hovel seemed to conceal the entrance to some -cavern within the hill’s rock-ribbed breast. - -When the blaze of the burning fagots cast a glow over the grewsome -interior of this temple of Voo Doo, Sybella, the High Priestess, turned -upon the cowering man, upon whose ashy-hued face stood great drops of -ice-cold sweat, tearing from her head the scarlet turban that had hidden -her bare, deathly skull, and beckoning him with her skeleton hand to -approach, in guttural, hissing voice commanded: - -“Say over what you told me on the hill! Say, if you dare, you dog, here -in my lair where Tu Konk dwells, that my daughter’s grandson, the last of -my blood, has mated with a white cow.” - -Benumbed by the dazzling light that poured from the black pits in her -naked, fleshless skull, the mulatto could not walk, but falling on his -hands and knees he moved toward her; prostrate at her feet, overcome by -fear, he whined faintly: - -“Burton, Walter Burton, married a white woman in Boston the twentieth of -last month.” - -The hag grasping his ears drew his head up toward her face, and thrusting -her terrible head forward she plunged her gaze like sword points down -into the man’s very soul. - -With a cry like that of a wounded wild-cat, she jumped back and throwing -her skinny arms up in the air began waving them above her head, screaming: - -“He does not lie! It is true! It is true!” - -In impotent rage she dug the sharp nails of her fingers into the skin of -her bald head and tore long ridges across its smooth bare surface. - -Suddenly she seized the mulatto, now half-dead from terror, crying: - -“Come! Goat without horns, let us tell Tu Konk.” - -Manuel, limp, scarcely breathing, staggered to his feet. The hag held him -by the bleeding ears that she had half torn from his head. Pushing him -before her they passed behind the curtain suspended against the rock wall -at the rear of the room. - -The cave they entered was of small dimensions. It was illuminated by -four large candles, which stood at each of the four corners of a baby’s -cradle. This misplaced article occupied the center of the space walled in -by the rocky sides of the apartment. The place otherwise was bare. - -Sybella as soon as the curtain fell behind her began a monotonous chant. -Moving slowly with shuffling side-long steps around the cradle, sang: - - “Awake, my Tu Konk, awake and listen; - Hear my story; - My blood long gone to white dogs; - Daughter, granddaughter, all gone to white dogs; - One drop left to me now gone to white cow; - Tu Konk, Tu Konk, awake and avenge me.” - -Manuel saw something move beneath the covering in the cradle. - - “Awake, Oh! my Tu Konk; - Awake and avenge me!” - -Manuel saw a black head thrust itself from below the cover, and rest upon -the dainty pillow in the cradle. The head was covered by an infant’s lacy -cap. - -Sybella saw the head appear. Dashing under the curtain and seizing one of -the skull-cups she returned and filled a nursing bottle that lay in the -cradle. - -The head covered with its cap of lace rose from the pillow. Sybella, -on her knees, with bowed head and adoring gestures, crept to the side -of the cradle and extended the bottle. King of terrors! By all that is -Horrible! - -The nipple disappeared in the scarlet flaming mouth of an immense, fiery -eyed, hissing black-snake. It was Tu Konk! - - “Drink, my Tu Konk.” - “Bring back my black blood.” - “Leave me not childless.” - “Curse then the white cow.” - “Send her the black goat.” - “Give her black kids.” - “Black kids and white teats.” - “Serve thus the white cow.” - -Chanting these words, the Voo Doo priestess struck her head repeatedly -upon the hard surface of the floor of the cave. Blood ran down her face -to mingle with the froth that dropped from her shriveled and distorted -lips. - -The mulatto with bursting, straining eye-balls and chattering teeth -gasped for breath. The hideous grotesqueness of the scene had frozen the -very life-blood in his veins. The vestments of an angel adorning a fiend! -Paralyzed by fear, with bulging eyes nearly popping from their sockets, -the man stared at the horrible head surrounded by those trappings most -closely associated with innocence. - -Human nature could stand no more! With one frenzied shriek Manuel broke -the spell that held him helpless. Tearing aside the curtain he leaped out -of this Temple of Terrors; heedless of the danger of plunging over the -precipice he raced along the treacherous path nor paused for breath until -miles intervened between Tu Konk, Sybella and himself. - - - - -VI. - - -No social event of the season equalled the Burton-Dunlap wedding. -For weeks prior to the date of the ceremony it had been the one -all-engrossing theme of conversation with everybody; that is, everybody -who was anybody, in the metropolis of the Old Bay State. - -The immense settlement, the magnificent gifts, the exquisite trousseau -from Paris, the surpassing beauty of the bride, the culture and -accomplishments of the handsome groom, the exalted position of the -Dunlap family, these formed the almost exclusive topics of Boston’s most -exclusive set for many weeks before the wedding. - -What a grand church wedding it was! The church was a perfect mass of -flowers and plants of the rarest and most expensive kind. The music -grandissimo beyond expression. A bishop assisted by two clergymen -performed the ceremony. The bride, a dream of loveliness in lace, satin -and orange blossoms; the groom a model of grace and chivalry; the tiny -maids, earth-born angels; the ushers Boston’s bluest blooded scions of -the Pilgrim Fathers, and finally everybody who was anybody was there. - -And the reception! The Dunlap mansion and grounds were resplendent in a -blaze of light; the beauty, talent, wealth and great names of New England -were gathered there to congratulate the happy bride, Dunlap’s heiress, -and the fortunate groom. - -“A most appropriate match! How fortunate for all concerned! How -delightful for the two old gentlemen!” declared everybody who was anybody. - -Four special policemen guarded the glittering array of almost priceless -wedding presents; in the splendid refreshment room, brilliant in -glittering glass and silver, Boston’s best and gentlest pledged the happy -bride and groom in many a glass of rarest wine and wished long life and -happiness to that charming, well-mated pair. - -The bride, radiant in her glorious beauty, rejecting as adornment for -this occasion, diamond necklace and tiara, gifts of the groom, selected a -simple coil of snowy pearls. - -“The gift of my Cousin Jack,” she proudly said. “My earliest lover and -most steadfast friend.” - -The savings of years of sailor life had been expended ungrudgingly to lay -this tribute of love on that fair bosom. - -How well assured was the future of this fortunate couple! The prospect -stretched before them like one long, joyous journey of uninterrupted -bliss. Life’s pathway all lined with thornless roses beneath summer’s -smiling sky. - -Naught seemed lacking to make assurance of the future doubly sure. Youth, -health, wealth, social position, culture, refinement, intelligence, -amiability. - -Soft strains of music floated on the perfumed air, bright eyes “spake -love to eyes that spake again,” midst palms and in flower-garlanded -recesses gentle voices whispered words of love to willing ears; in the -center of this unalloyed blissfulness were Burton and his bride. - -“Old bachelors are as excitable concerning marriage as old spinsters -can possibly be. See Mr. John Dunlap, how flushed and nervous he seems! -He hovers about the bride like an anxious mother!” So said two elderly -grand-dames behind their fans while watching the group about Burton’s -fair young wife. - -Among that gay and gallant company moved one restless figure and peering -face. David Chapman, leaving his sister, Miss Arabella, under the -protecting care of Mrs. Church, lest during the confusion of so large a -gathering, some daring cavalier, enamored of her maiden-charms, should -elope with the guileless creature, mingled with the throng of guests, -unobtrusive, but ever vigilant and watchful. - -Chapman’s countenance bore an odd expression, a mixture of satisfied -curiosity, vindictiveness and regret. - -That very day a superannuated sailor who for years had served the house -of Dunlap, and now acted as ship-keeper for vessels in its employ, called -to report to the superintendent some trifling loss. Before leaving he -asked respectfully, knuckling his forehead. - -“Is the manager goin’ to marry ter’day?” - -“Yes; why?” said Chapman sharply. - -“Nothin’ ’cept I’ve often seen his mother and took notice of him here,” -replied the man. - -“Where did you see Mr. Burton’s mother? Who was she?” Chapman asked -eagerly in his keen way. - -“In Port au Prince, mor’n twenty-five year er’go. She was Ducros’, the -sugar planter’s darter, and the puttiest quadroon I ever seen. Yea, the -puttiest woman of any kind I ever seen,” answered the old ship-keeper in -a reminiscent tone. - -Chapman’s eyes fairly sparkled with pleasure as he thus secured a clew -for future investigation, but without asking other questions he dismissed -the retired seaman. It was this information that gave to his face that -singular expression during the reception. - -A private palace car stood on the track in the station waiting for the -coming of the bridal party. Naught less than a special train could be -considered when it was decided that Florida should be the favored spot -where the wealthy Haitien and his bride, the Dunlap heiress, would spend -their honeymoon. - -Soft and balmy are the breezes, that pouring through the open windows of -the car, flood the interior with odors of pine cones and orange blooms, -as Burton’s special train speeds through the Flower State of the Union. - -The car is decked with the fresh and gorgeous blossoms of this snowless -land; yet of all the fairest is that sweet bud that rests on Burton’s -breast. - -“Walter, how sweet is life when one loves and is beloved,” said Burton’s -young wife dreamily, raising her head from his breast and gazing fondly -into her husband’s eyes. - -“Yes, love, life then is heaven on earth, sweet wife,” whispered the -husband clasping closely the yielding figure in his arms. - -“I am so happy, dearest Walter, I love you so dearly,” murmured Lucy -clinging still closer to her lover. - -“You will always love me thus, I hope, my darling,” said Walter, as he -kissed the white forehead of his bride. - -“Of course I shall, my own dear husband,” answered unhesitatingly the -happy, trusting woman. - -“Could nothing, no matter what, however unexpected and unforeseen, shake -your faith in me, or take from me that love I hold so sacred and so -dear?” asked Burton earnestly, pressing his wife to his heart. - -“Nothing could alter my love for you, my husband,” answered Lucy quickly, -as she raised her head and kissed him. - -The special train slows up at a small station. Put on breaks! The whistle -calls, and the train stops until the dispatcher can get a “clear track” -message from the next station. - -The crowd of negroes, male and female, large and small, stare with -wondering admiration at the beautiful being who appears on the rear -platform of the car accompanied by such a perfect Adonis of a man. - -Lucy Burton was an object not likely to escape attention. Her full -round form, slender, yet molded into most delicious curves, was shown -to perfection by the tight-fitting traveling gown of some kind of -soft stuff that she wore; her happy, beautiful face, bright with the -love-light in her hazel eyes, presented a picture calculated to cause -even the most fastidious to stare. To the ignorant black people she was a -revelation of loveliness. - -As the negroes, in opened-mouthed wonder, came closer and clustered -about the steps of the car, their great eyes wide and white, Lucy drew -back a little and somewhat timidly slipped her hand into her husband’s, -whispering: - -“I am afraid of them, they are so black and shocking with their rolling -eyes and thick lips.” - -“Nonsense! sweetheart,” said Walter with a laugh not all together -spontaneous. - -“They are a merry, gentle folk, gay and good-natured; the Southern people -would have no other nurses for their babies. I thought New England people -had long since ceased to notice the color of mankind’s skin.” - -“But, Walter, how horrid they are! We see so few of them in New England -that they don’t seem like these. How dreadfully black and brutal they -are. Let us go inside, I really am afraid!” cried Lucy in a low voice -and started to retreat. - -At that moment a tall and very black woman who held a baby at her breast, -negro-like, carried away by thoughtless good nature and admiration for -the lovely stranger, raised her ink-colored picaninny, and in motherly -pride thrust it forward until its little wooly black head almost touched -Lucy’s bosom. - -With one glance of loathing, terror and unconcealed horror at the object -resting nearly on her breast, Lucy gave a scream of fear and fled. -Throwing herself on one of the settees in the car she buried her face -among the cushions and wept solely from fright and nervousness. - -“Why! sweetheart, what is the matter? There is nothing to fear. Those -poor people were only admiring you, my darling,” cried Burton hurrying to -his young wife’s side and seeking to quiet her fears. - -“I can’t help it, Walter, all those black faces crowded together near to -me was awful, and that dreadful little black thing almost touched me,” -sobbed Lucy nervously. - -“Darling, the dreadful little black thing was only a harmless baby,” -replied the husband soothingly. - -“Baby!” cried the astonished young woman, lifting her head from the -cushions and regarding her companion through her undried tears with -doubt, as if suspecting him of joking. “I thought it was an ape or some -hideous little imp! Baby!” and seeing that there was no joke about what -her husband said, she added: - -“I didn’t know negroes looked like that when babies. I would not touch -that loathsome, horrid thing for worlds. It made my flesh fairly quiver -to see it even near me.” - -Walter Burton succeeded in allaying the alarm of his wife only after the -train had resumed its rapid journey southward. When Lucy, lulled to sleep -by the low music of the guitar which he played to distract her attention -from the unpleasant recollection, no longer demanded his presence, Burton -sought the smoking-room of the car and passed an hour in solemn, profound -meditation, as he puffed continuously fragrant Havanas. - -“I was wrong! She did not know. Now she never shall if I can prevent -it.” Such were the words of Lucy’s husband when throwing away his cigar -he arose to rejoin his young wife. - - * * * * * - -Many hundred miles from flowery Florida across a watery way, a ship was -wildly tossing upon an angry, sullen sea. For three days and nights with -ceaseless toil, in constant danger, the weary crew had battled with -howling winds and tempestuous waves. - -A storm of awe-inspiring fury had burst upon the good ship “Adams,” of -Boston, bound for Melbourne, on the night of December the nineteenth in -that good year of our Lord. - -The superb seamanship of the skipper, combined with the prompt alacrity -of the willing crew, alone saved the ship from adding her broken frame to -that countless multitude which rest beneath the waves. - -The wind was still blowing a gale, but there was perceptibly less force -in it, as shrieking it tore through the rigging and against the almost -bare masts, than there had been in three days. - -Two men stood in the cabin, enveloped in oil-skins, with rubber boots -reaching above their knees. Their eyes were red from wind and watching, -while they answered the heave of the ship wearily as if worn out with the -excessive labor of the last seventy-two hours. The men were the two mates -of the “Adams.” The captain had sent them below for a glass of grog and a -biscuit. There had been no fire in the galley for the three days that the -storm had beaten upon the ship. - -“The skipper must be made of iron,” said the shorter man, Morgan, the -second officer. - -“He has hardly left the deck a minute since the squall struck us, and he -is as quick and strong as a shark,” he continued, munching on the biscuit -and balancing himself carefully as he raised his glass of grog. - -“Every inch a sailor is the skipper,” growled the larger man hoarsely. - -“Sailed with Captain Dunlap in the ‘Lucy,’ and no better master ever trod -a quarter-deck,” added Mr. Brice, the first officer of the “Adams.” - -“He surely knows his business and handles the ship with the ease a -Chinaman does his chopsticks, but he’s the surliest, most silent skipper -I ever sailed with. You told us, Mr. Brice, when you came aboard that he -was the jolliest; was he like this when you were with him on the ‘Lucy’?” -said the second mate inquiringly. - -“No, he wasn’t!” mumbled old Brice in answer. - -“Somethin’ went wrong with him ashore,” adding angrily as he turned and -glared at his young companion: - -“But ’tis none of your blamed business or mine neither what’s up with the -skipper; you didn’t ship for society, did you?” - -“That’s right enough, Mr. Brice, but I tell you what ’tis, the men think -the captain a little out of trim in the sky-sail. They say he walks about -ship at night like a ghost and does queer things. Second day of the -storm, the twentieth, in the evening, while it was blowing great guns and -ship pitching like she’d stick her nose under forever, I was standin’ by -to help Collins at the wheel; we see the skipper come staggering along -aft balancing himself careful as a rope walker an a holdin’ a glass of -wine in his hand. When he gets to the rail at the stern he holds up high -the glass and talks to wind, Davy Jones or somethin’, drinks the wine and -hurls the glass to hell and gone into the sea. How’s that, mate? Collins -looks at me and shakes his head, and I feels creepy myself.” - -For a minute Brice, with red and angry eyes, stared at the second mate, -then he burst out in a roar: - -“I’ll knock the head off ’er Collins, and marlin spike the rest ’er the -bloomin’ sea lawyers in the for’castle if I catch them talkin’ erbout the -skipper, and I tell you, Mr. Second Mate, you keep your mouth well shut -or you’ll get such ’er keel haulin’ you won’t fergit. Captain Dunlap is -no man to projec’k with and he’s mighty rough in er shindy.” - -With that closing admonition the first officer turned and climbed the -reeling stairs that led to the deck. As he emerged from the companion-way -a great wave struck the side of ship heeling her over and hurling the -mate against the man who had formed the topic of discussion in the cabin -below. - -The skipper was wet to the skin; he had thrown aside his oil-skins to -enable him to move more nimbly, his face was worn, drawn and almost of -leaden hue. Deep lines and the dark circles around his eyes told a story -of loss of sleep, fatigue and anxiety. How much of this was due to an -aching pain in the heart only Him to whom all things are revealed could -know. - -Morgan’s story was true. He had described when, how and under what -conditions Jack had pledged Lucy in a glass of wine on her wedding day, -praying God to send blessings and happiness to his lost love. - -Sing sweet mocking birds! Shine genial sun! Bloom fairest flowers of -Sunny Florida! Bliss be thine, loved Lucy! Dream not of the ocean’s angry -roar! The tempest’s cruel blast! - - - - -VII. - - -“I really can hardly realize, grandfather, that I have been married one -year and that today is the anniversary of my wedding,” exclaimed Mrs. -Walter Burton to her grandfather, as lingering over a late breakfast, -they chatted in a desultory manner on many subjects. - -The breakfast-room of the Dunlap mansion was one of the prettiest -apartments in the house; bright and airy, with great windows reaching -from ceiling to floor, which flooded the place with sunshine and -cheerfulness this brilliant snowy New England morning. - -Surely it had been difficult to find anything prettier than the young -matron who presided over the sparkling service with the grace of the -school-girl still visible notwithstanding the recently assumed dignity of -wife. - -Lucy Burton’s face and form possessed that rare quality of seeming -always displayed to best advantage in the last costume she wore. Nothing -could be more becoming than the lace-trimmed breakfast gown of a clinging -silky, pink fabric worn by her this morning. - -The tete-a-tete between grandfather and granddaughter each morning over -the breakfast-table was an established and, to both, a cherished custom -that had grown up since Lucy’s marriage. - -Mr. James Dunlap carried his seventy-three years as lightly as many men -of less rugged constitutions carry fifty. His was a fresh, healthy, -kindly old face, the white hair resting like the snow on some Alpine peak -served but to heighten the charm of those goodly features below. - -“A year to young people means very little, I judge, daughter, but we old -folk regard it differently. You have been away from me during the last -year so much that old man as I am, the time has dragged,” the grandfather -replied laying aside his morning paper and adjusting his glasses that he -might see better the pretty face across the table. - -“Now, that I look at you, my dear, apparently you have not aged to any -alarming extent since you have become a matron,” jocosely added the old -gentleman, his eyes beaming lovingly on his granddaughter. - -“I may not show it, still I have my troubles.” Lucy’s attempt to wrinkle -her smooth brow and draw down the corners of her sweet mouth while she -tried to muster up a sigh was so ridiculous that her companion began to -laugh. - -“Don’t laugh at me, grandfather; it’s unkind,” cried Lucy, with the -childish manner that still crept out when alone with him who had been -both father and mother to her. - -“Very well, deary, I shall not laugh. Tell me of those dire troubles that -afflict you,” rejoined her still smiling grandfather. - -“Well! now there is Walter, obliged to run away so early to that horrid -old office that I never see him at the breakfast-table,” began the young -creature with pretty pettishness. - -“Sad! indeed sad!” said Mr. Dunlap in affected sorrow. “A gay young -couple attend some social function or the theatre nightly and are up -late; the unfortunate young husband is obliged to be at his office at ten -o’clock in the morning to save an old man of seventy odd from routine -labor; the young wife who is fond of a morning nap must breakfast alone, -save the companionship of an old fogy of a grandfather; ’tis the saddest -situation I ever heard of.” - -The laughter in the old gentleman’s throat gurgled like good wine poured -for welcome guest as Lucy puckered up her lips at him. - -“Then that hateful old ‘Eyrie.’ When we were married and you insisted -that we should live here with you, which, of course, I expected to do, I -thought Walter would sell or lease that lonely bachelor den of his, but -he has done no such thing; says he keeps up the establishment for the -sake of the conservatory, which is the finest in the State,” proceeded -the wife ruefully recounting her alleged woes. - -“Walter speaks truly concerning the conservatory at the ‘Eyrie.’ Mr. -Foster Agnew, who is authority on the subject, says that he has never -seen a finer collection of rare and beautiful plants and flowers in any -private conservatory in this country,” replied Mr. Dunlap in defense of -Burton’s action in maintaining his former home. - -“Yes, but there is no reason for Walter’s running up there at all hours -of the night, and sometimes even staying there all night, telling me -that he is anxious about the temperature; that Leopold may fall asleep -or neglect something. I hate that miserable conservatory,” rejoined Lucy -with flushed face and flashing eyes. - -“Oh! Pshaw! you exacting little witch! You are fearfully neglected by -reason of the ‘Eyrie’s’ conservatory, are you? Now, let me see. You were -in Florida and California two months of the last year, and in Europe four -more, leaving just six months that you have spent in Boston since your -marriage. I suppose Walter has spent a half dozen nights at the ‘Eyrie.’ -Great tribulation and trial,” rejoined the amused grandfather. - -“Well, but Walter knows I don’t like his going there at night. Something -might happen to him,” persisted Lucy, woman-like seizing any argument to -gain her point. - -[Illustration: “Lucy passed her soft, white arm around her grandfather’s -neck.” - -Page 108] - -“As Princess Lucy does not like it, she thinks that should be a -sufficient reason for the visits to the ‘Eyrie’ at night to cease. Being -accustomed to that humble and abject obedience rendered to her slightest -wish by the old slaves John and James, and the young slave, Jack Dunlap. -Is that it, Princess?” said the old gentleman making a mocking salaam to -‘Her Highness’ as he sometimes called his pretty _vis-a-vis_. - -“Stop making fun of me, grandfather; I think you are really unkind. I -never made slaves of you and Uncle John and good old Jack. Did I now?” - -Lucy Burton surely was a beauty. Small wonder that the Dunlap men, old -and young, loved her long before Walter Burton came to win her. She -looked so pretty as she asked the last question that her grandfather held -out his hands and said: - -“Come here, my dear, and kiss me. I forgive you if you have been an -exacting ruler.” When Lucy settled herself on the arm of his chair as -some graceful bird of gay plumage perches itself on a twig, the fine old -face was filled with tenderness and love as he kissed her. - -Lucy passed her soft white arm around her grandfather’s neck, and -resting her dimpled cheek on his snowy head, she said seriously: - -“That is not all of my reason for disliking the ‘Eyrie.’ You know, -grandfather, I should not discuss my husband with any one other than -yourself, so this is a secret; I have noticed that whenever Walter -makes an all-night visit to the ‘Eyrie’ that the trip is preceded by an -outburst of unusual hilarity on his part; in fact, on such occasions I am -almost annoyed by something nearly undignified in Walter’s demeanor; he -seems as thoughtless as a child, says and does things that are ridiculous -and silly.” - -“Tut, tut, child, you have a very vivid imagination, and are so anxious -for everyone to regard your husband with the exaggerated admiration that -you have for him, that you are allowing yourself to become hypercritic, -my pet,” rejoined Mr. Dunlap reassuringly. - -“No, grandfather, you are mistaken. I not alone notice something -peculiar about Walter’s periodical outbursts of unseemly mirth; I see -others regard with surprise this departure from his customary reposeful -dignity,” insisted the young wife earnestly with a note of indignation -in her voice when speaking of others observing any thing strange in the -conduct of her husband. - -“Oh! nonsense, Lucy, all young men occasionally cast aside dignity. -In the fullness of youth and vigor they become now and again fairly -exuberant with happiness and forget all about the conventionalities of -society. I have seen nothing about Walter in that particular different -from other young men. Don’t make yourself wretched over nothing, little -girl.” - -“Possibly I observe my husband with more attention than anyone else, even -than you, grandfather, for I certainly perceive a great differentiation -between Walter’s spasmodic mirth and similar exhibitions by other men. -Walter seems different in many ways that mystify me. On every occasion -that he remains all night at the ‘Eyrie,’ after a display of this -extraordinary and boyish merriment, he returns home the next day with -broad dark circles around his eyes, and is in a most depressed state of -spirits,” said the young wife, with real anxiety revealed in the tone of -her voice. - -“Well, really, daughter, if you are anxious concerning what you say, I -shall observe Walter more closely. He may be over exerting himself by -the late hours that he keeps in your company, and the detail work that -he has taken off my hands. However, just as a venture, I will wager a -box of gloves against a kiss, deary, that Walter does not appear in the -condition you have described this evening, notwithstanding that he passed -last night at the ‘Eyrie’ and was markedly mirthful during last evening,” -said Lucy’s grandfather, passing his arm around her slim waist and -drawing his anxious girl to his heart. - -“I am glad you mentioned last evening, for I wish to speak of something -I noticed during the serving of dinner and afterward. Who was that old -gentleman whom you introduced as Professor Charlton?” said the young -woman interrogatively. - -“Oh, that is my old friend and fellow classmate when we were at Harvard. -He is a Georgian and is Dean of the Georgia University and one of the -most learned ethnologists in the world. He is here to consult with -Professor Wright of Harvard concerning a forthcoming book on which -Charlton has been engaged for years. Now, that I have answered fully, why -were you curious about that old book-worm and chum of mine, my pretty -inquisitor?” - -“Simply because he seemed perfectly fascinated by my husband. He appeared -unable to remove his gaze from him even when addressed by you or any one -else. He would peer at him over his glasses, then raise his head and -inspect Walter through them just as botanists do when they come upon some -rare plant.” - -“By Jove! What next will that brown head of yours conjure up to worry -over? Are you jealous of old Charlton’s admiring glances? If he were -a pretty woman I might understand, but old Cobb Charlton. Well! I am -prepared for anything, my pet, so go ahead. What about those glances -seen by your watchful eyes?” said her grandfather, chuckling over some -farcical suggestion in connection with old Professor Thos. Cobb Charlton. - -“Yes, but they were not admiring glances, and I didn’t say so. They -were studious, scrutinizing, investigating, and I thought, insulting,” -indignantly replied Lucy. - -“Ah! Now we are called upon to criticise the quality and kind of glance -with which an old student may regard a gay young fellow who is rattling -gleefully through a somewhat tedious dinner,” said Mr. Dunlap in an -amused manner. - -“You may laugh at me, grandfather, as much as you please, but Walter was -made so nervous and uncomfortable by that old fellow’s disconcerting -scrutiny that he acted almost silly. I have never seen him quite so -ridiculously merry. That old Professor squinted even at Walter’s hands, -as if he wished for a microscope to examine them, and after dinner while -Walter was singing he edged up near the piano and peered down Walter’s -throat, listening intently as if to catch some peculiar note for which -he was waiting, all the time with his old head on one side like an ugly -owl,” said the exasperated young woman. - -Lucy’s description of his old college friend and her manner of setting -forth his idiosyncracies was too much for James Dunlap’s risibility. -He threw back his head and incontinently laughed in his granddaughter’s -pretty flushed face. - -“Oh! my, Oh! my! How old Cobb would enjoy this! My dearest, old Cobb -Charlton is the jolliest, most amiable fellow on earth. He would not -wound the sensibilities of a street-dog, and is one of the best bred -gentlemen alive. Oh! my, Lucy! You’ll be the death of me yet with your -whimsical notions,” cried the fine old fellow leaning back in his chair, -shaking with laughter. - -“Well, I don’t care; it is just as I said, for finally, he seemed to -discover something about Walter for which he had been seeking. I saw a -self-satisfied smile steal over his face as he nodded his bushy white -head. Then he stared at you as if amazed, and then, if I be not blind -and I don’t think that I am, he had the impertinence to look at me with, -actually, pity in his big, staring black eyes,” retorted Lucy angrily as -she recalled the events of the previous evening. - -“Imagination, pure and simple!” exclaimed Mr. Dunlap, continuing to -laugh, enjoying hugely Lucy’s anger. - -“Charlton was possibly thinking about something connected with his -favorite science and probably did not even see us while apparently he was -casting about those peculiar glances that you depict so vividly.” - -“Even so, I think it ill-bred and unkind in him to make my husband the -subject of a study in ethnology.” - -“Ah!” gasped her grandfather, as though a sudden pain had struck his -heart. Some new idea had flashed upon his brain, the laughter vanished -from lips and the color from his face. He straightened up in his chair -while a look of anxiety replaced the merriment that had sparkled in his -eyes. - -“Why, what is the matter, grandfather?” cried Lucy in undisguised alarm -at the change in his countenance. - -“Nothing, my darling, it will pass away. Please hand me a glass of -water,” the old man answered. - -Lucy hastened to fill a glass with water and while she was so engaged -Mr. Dunlap struggled to master some emotion that had caused the sudden -departure of all his jocoseness of the moment before she said that her -husband had been made a subject of a study in ethnology. - -“I am better now, thank you, dear; it was just a little twinge of pain -that caught me unaware of its approach,” said the old gentleman forcing a -smile to his pale lips. - -“And now let us talk about your Cousin Jack, and leave alone the vagaries -of a moth-eaten old scholar whom you will probably never see again,” he -continued, as if eager to banish some disagreeable thought from his mind. - -“Oh, yes! Do tell me some news of dear old Jack. His very name seems to -bring the purity, freshness and freedom of the sea into this hot-house -life one leads in society. Where is he and how is he?” cried Lucy -enthusiastically at mention of the name of her sailor cousin. - -“You recall, do you not, the brief mention that he made in the first -letter that we received after he sailed of a fearful storm encountered by -his ship when not less than a month out from Boston, and that his ship -(so he wrote) had been fortunate enough to rescue some people from a -foundered and sinking vessel during the gale?” asked Mr. Dunlap regaining -gradually his composure as his mind dwelt upon a subject pleasant to -contemplate. - -“Yes, surely, I remember, grandfather, because the storm, I recall, was -at its height on my wedding day and I wondered at the time if in all that -fearful danger Jack even thought of me.” - -“Well, then! to begin with I must let you into a state secret. Your good -Uncle John the day before Jack sailed insisted that he should carry old -Brice, who had been long in our service, as one of his mates. John’s -object was this: knowing Jack’s pride and obstinacy, he feared that he -might need help and not apply to us for it, so he sent for Brice and -bribed him to stick by our young kinsman and keep us informed concerning -his welfare. We have had only glowing accounts of Jack’s success as a -ship-owner from Brice. Yesterday there came a letter and a copy of a -London paper from him that filled my heart with pride and pleasure, and I -know will overjoy your uncle. - -“Do hurry, grandfather. I can’t wait long to hear fine things about my -good, faithful old Jack,” exclaimed Lucy impatiently, as she resumed her -place on the arm of the old man’s chair. - -“This is what the report in the London newspaper states, and is what -neither Jack nor Brice wrote home. The ship that foundered was filled -with emigrants from Ireland bound for Australia. The fourth day of -the storm she was sighted by the ‘Adams.’ While the wind had subsided -somewhat the waves were still rolling mountain high. When Jack called -for volunteers to man the boats the crew hung in the wind, until Jack, -noticing the women and children on the deck of the sinking ship, called -to Brice to come with him, and pushing aside the reluctant crew made -ready to spring into a boat which had been lowered. Then the shamed crew -rushed over the side and insisted that the captain allow them to make -the attempt to rescue the people from the wrecked vessel. With the last -boat-load of the emigrants that came safely on board of the ‘Adams’ was -a little girl who, weeping bitterly, cried that her sick mother had been -left behind. The sailors and Mr. Morgan, the second mate of the ‘Adams,’ -said that the child’s mother was nearly dead, lying in a bunk in the -sick-bay, and that she had smallpox and no one dared lift and carry her -to the boat.” - -“What an awful position! What did Jack say?” cried Lucy, breaking the -thread of her grandfather’s narrative. - -“Jack did not say much, but he did that that makes me proud to call him -my kinsman, a Dunlap and a Yankee sailor. He whispered to the child -not to cry any more, that she should have her mother brought to her. -Then he leaped into the boat and was shoving off to make the trip alone -to the wreck when old Brice tumbled over the ship’s side and took his -place at an oar. Jack brought the woman in his arms from the sick-bay -and laid her in the boat, regaining his own ship, he made the smallpox -patient comfortable in his own cabin, nursed her himself and saved her -life,” said Mr. Dunlap exultantly, relating the report of the rescue as -published in the English journal. - -“Hurrah! for our noble Jack!” cried Lucy, springing up and waving about -her head a napkin that lay upon the table. - -“But hear the end, daughter, in recognition of the humanity of the -generous deed, the Royal Humane Society of England has presented both -Jack and Brice with medals, and as an extraordinary mark of distinction, -the King of England has, with his own hand, written a letter to our -Jack, congratulating him upon the performance of a noble, unselfish and -courageous act,” added the grandfather. - -“Three times three! for brave Jack Dunlap! Hurrah, for the blood of a -good old Yankee race that tells its story in noble deeds,” and waving -the improvised banner above her fair head she bent down and kissed the -glowing cheek of the proud old man. - -“Run along now, dear, and dress. You may take me for a sleigh-ride behind -your fast ponies before I go down to the office.” - -As Lucy went upstairs, there came floating back to her grandfather’s ears -her fresh, musical voice singing: - - It’s a Yankee ship, - It’s a Yankee crew, - That’s first on waters blue. - - - - -VIII. - - -Early in the morning after Mr. Dunlap’s dinner-party in honor of -Professor Charlton, when the newly risen sun had made a dazzling field -of glittering diamonds of the snow that lay white and spotless about the -‘Eyrie,’ Walter Burton threw up the sash of one of the long, low windows -in his sitting-room and stepped out on the balcony. - -With a sigh of relief he drank in deep draughts of the fresh, crisp air, -and exclaimed as he shaded his eyes: - -“What a blessing is fresh air and sunlight after the closeness of the -house and gas-light.” - -The man’s face was haggard and drawn like one who has passed a night of -vigil and suffering. His eyes were surrounded by bands of black that gave -to them a hollow appearance. - -“How utterly idiotic and inexplicable seems my mood and conduct of last -night out here in the sunshine, now that I am my natural self once more.” - -Burton walked down from the balcony on the crackling snow that lay dry -and sparkling on the lawn in front of the house. After a few moments -spent in the exercise of pacing about and swinging his arms, he returned -to his sitting-room refreshed and apparently restored to his usual -condition of mind. - -All around the room that he entered were scattered promiscuously, musical -instruments, books, cushions, flowers and fragments of a late supper, -all in that confusion that could not fail to impress the beholder with -the idea that the room had been recently the scene of reckless orgies. -Pillows heaped upon a sofa still bore the imprint of some one’s head, and -was evidently the couch from which the young man had risen when he went -forth into God’s bright sunlight. - -With supreme disgust depicted on his aesthetic countenance, Walter Burton -gazed at the evidence of his nocturnal revel while in that state of mind -he had named idiotic. - -“These sporadic spells of silliness which come over my spirit are -as revolting to me, when relieved from their influences, as is -incomprehensible the cause of their coming,” muttered Burton, kicking -aside the various articles that littered the floor. - -“What earthly reason could there be for the peculiar effect produced -upon me by the scrutiny of that old professor from the South? There -exists nothing natural to account for the strange sensation caused by the -penetrating gaze of that old Southerner. - -“The cause must be sought in the sphere of the supernatural, a province -wherein reason, education and culture protest against my wandering.” -Pausing the young man strove to recall the scenes and sensations of the -previous night, but in vain. - -“It is useless for me to struggle to bring back the vanished state of -feeling that possessed me last evening. It refuses to pass before the -spectrum of my mind. - -“It is ever thus while the normal condition of my mental faculties -exists. I always fail to catch the fleeting shadow of that distorting -spectre that haunts my spirit with its degrading, masterful influence. - -“Could I but hold that sensation that steals upon me, while my mental -powers are yet unimpaired by its presence, I might make a diagnosis of -the disease, analyze the cause and produce the remedy, but my attempts -are always futile. I fail to reproduce the feeling that was all-pervading -a few short hours before the current of my mind returned to its -accustomed channel.” - -The helplessness and baffled look upon the man’s face as he ended this -self-communion was piteous. Throwing himself into a chair and covering -his face with his hands, he cried almost with a moan: - -“To what depth of degradation, brutality and crime may I not be -carried while actuated by a power foreign and antagonistic to all that -Christianity, morality and education have imparted to me?” - -“My God! How I had hoped that time and marriage would cause a diminution -in the power of these strange spells and the frequency of their visits, -until, at last, I might be freed from a thralldom repugnant to all my -better self.” - -“Vain that hoped for release! Rather do the mysterious visitations -increase in frequency, and alas! also in power.” - -“Like insidious waves that sap and undermine the foundation of some -massive granite cliff, the delusive tide recedes but to return, each -succeeding visit adding to the inroad already made. Though small may be -the gain, they never once relax their firm grip upon the headway won -before, until the toppling mass comes crashing from its majestic height, -vanquished by and victim of unremitting insidiousness.” - -“So I find with each recurrence of the tide of the strange spell that -submerges me. That granite cliff of Christianity whereon I builded -my castle of morality, that bastion of education, those redoubts of -refinement, culture, aesthetics, deemed by me as creating an impregnable -fortress wherein by the aid of civilization I should find secure shelter, -are trembling and toppling, undermined by the waves of that inexplicable, -relentless influence.” - -“Each attack finds me weaker to resist, each advance carries me further -from my fortress; I feel my defense falling; I am drawing nearer to the -brink; shall I fall? Shall I go crashing down, dragged from my high -estate by some fiendish tendency as inexorable as it is degrading?” - -“As yet I am enabled to resist beyond the point of insensate silliness -and folly, but each returning shock is accompanied by ever stronger -suggestion of immorality, brutality and crime. Shall I be strong enough -always to repulse this tireless current of assault? Shall I finally -succumb and fall to the level of the barbarian and the beast? Soul -harrowing thought!” - -“The insane or drink frenzied man is unconscious of his acts, but such -is not my miserable fate, while held in bondage by that unknown power I -appreciate the absurdity of my every act. I still am I, but powerless to -control myself, I catch the look of wonder that fills the eyes of others. -I feel the shame, but am powerless to remove the cause.” - -“And, oh! the horror of seeing and recognizing a look of rebuke and -repulsion in the eyes of those I love and those who love me. To see the -smile of pride vanish and the blush of mortification succeed it on the -face of that being of all the world to me the dearest and fairest.” - -“Last night in my dear Lucy’s eyes I read reproof, rebuke, and on her -cheeks I saw the red flag of shame. Cognizant of the cause, I, like a -leaf upon the current of some mighty cataract, helpless, rushed along -in humiliation and self-disgust. I beat against the stream with all -my remaining strength of mind; I struggled to regain the shore of my -accustomed dignity, but all in vain.” - -“I was carried on and on, until plunging over the brink of the fall -I struck the bottom where lie those self-respect destroying rocks -of disgrace. In ignominy I fled and sought refuge here; ceasing my -unavailing efforts to break the chain that held me I gave free rein to -the influences that governed my mood.” - -“Wild and ribald songs burst from my lips, hilarious and lascivious -music poured from the instruments that I touched, movements, rythmic -but novel, fantastic, barbarous, jerked my limbs about in the measure of -some savage dance. I ate and drank more as an untutored tribesman of the -jungle than a civilized citizen of our cultured country.” - -“All unrestrained and unopposed that mystifying mood bore me on -recklessly, abandoned, until it swept me to the very verge of wickedness -and sin. On the extremist edge of that precipice, below which lies the -gulf of infamy, I found strength to grasp and hold the feeble tendrils of -that higher estate that still clung around me; in every fiber of my being -there surged Satanic suggestions to relinquish my hold upon the fragile -stay to which I desperately clung, and take the plunge into that dark -gulf below.” - -“Go where base associates await you! Where lewdness, lasciviousness, -brutality, beastliness and licensed libidinousness lead to savage satiety -that ends in blood. These were the suggestive words whispered to me by -that fiendish spirit of these strange spells. They vibrated through every -nerve and vein of my racked and straining being.” - -“Thank God! I still had power of soul sufficient to resist, but Lord! how -long shall I be enabled to avert that which is seemingly my doom?” - -Burton arose and for several minutes walked about the apartment with -agitated, nervous tread. Passing before a long mirror that stood between -the windows, he stopped suddenly before it, gazed intently at his image -reflected there, and cried out: - -“The reflection there tells me that I appear to be as other men around -me. In stature and features I seem not essentially at variance with the -average man I meet, perhaps I am even more comely. What then is it that -caused me to fall shamefaced, embarrassed and simpering like a silly -school boy, before the scrutiny of that old scholar last night?” - -“I hold the Christian faith; I possess more than the ordinary degree of -education common in this country; I have acquired proficiency in many -accomplishments; I bear the impress of the culture and refinement of this -most enlightened century, and yet! and yet!” - -“The searching, piercing glance of that old scientist seemed to penetrate -some concealing veil and tearing it aside revealed me in my very -nakedness; I seemed to stand forth an exposed impostor; I felt myself a -self-confessed charlatan, caught in the very act of masquerading in the -stolen trappings of my superiors; I became the buffoon in borrowed gown -and cap of the philosopher, an object of ridicule and wrath.” - -“Before those deep seeing eyes I was no longer self-assured; convicted -of mimicking manners foreign to myself, I seemed to cast aside the -unavailing, purloined mask and mummery and thus reveal myself a fraud. -Seeking safety from the scorn and just resentment of the defrauded I took -refuge in pitiful imbecility and silliness.” - -“Once before the same experience was mine. In Paris, at the American -Ambassador’s reception I met the Liberian minister. As soon as the -gigantic black man fastened his gaze upon me, I became disconcerted. When -we clasped hands all the feeling of superiority that education gives -departed from me, all the refined sentiments created by culture vanished, -I could only simper and chuckle like a child over senseless jokes as did -the negro giant beside me.” - -“On that occasion, fearing to shock and disgust my bride, I stole like -a thief from her side and feigning sudden illness begged a friend to -take my place as escort of my wife, while as one bereft of reason I -raced along the boulevards and buried myself beneath the dark shade of -the trees in the Bois de Boulogne, where, capering and shouting madly I -danced until, exhausted, I fell to the ground.” - -As Burton stood regarding his image reflected in the mirror, he became -suddenly aware of how wan and worn was the face before him and turning -wearily away he exclaimed, - -“I must throw aside these wretched recollections and forebodings. I look -absolutely ill. I shall be in no condition to appear either at the office -or at my home unless I succeed in obliterating some of the evidences of -my suffering last night.” - -When, by a mighty effort, he had acquired sufficient control of his -nerves and voice as not to attract the attention of his valet, he rang -the bell. - -“Victor, prepare my bath, lay out some linen and a proper suit of -clothing. Order my breakfast served as soon as I ring, open the windows -and let fresh air into the room when I leave it,” said Burton to his -attendant, when the valet appeared in answer to his master’s summons. - -A refreshing bath, a liberal indulgence in strong, black coffee, assisted -by the will power of the man enabled Burton to enter the office of “J. -Dunlap” almost entirely restored to his customary appearance. - -The Manager had just finished examining the reports submitted by the -heads of the various departments of the great Shipping and Banking house -when the door of his office opened and the Superintendent entered. - -David Chapman looked even more hawk-like, hungry and eager than when he -had stood one year before in the same place. - -“Beg pardon, Mr. Burton, but I thought you might wish to be informed of -the fact that under instructions from Mr. Dunlap, I am forwarding by -the steamer that leaves today for Hong Kong, a package and some letters -that Mr. Dunlap gave me to send to Captain Jack Dunlap. The package -contains, I believe, a testimonial of Mr. Dunlap’s admiration for the -noble conduct of his kinsman in connection with the rescue from the wreck -of that emigrant ship. As I am availing myself of the opportunity to -communicate my own opinion concerning Captain Jack’s action, I thought -it not improbable that you would wish to send some message,” said the -Superintendent, peering stealthily at Burton as he spoke. - -“I thank you, Chapman, most heartily for letting me know this,” cried -Burton warmly. - -“How much time may I have to prepare a letter and package to accompany -yours and Mr. Dunlap’s?” - -“Mr. Dunlap told me to hold the package until he arrived at the office -as it was likely that his granddaughter would wish to place some -communication for her cousin with his.” - -“And I am sure she will! My wife’s admiration for her cousin Jack -is unbounded. I will hasten to prepare my contribution to the -congratulations sent to Captain Jack. He is a magnificent man and I am -proud to be connected in any way with such a noble character.” - -“You are right, sir. Jack Dunlap is a brave, true man and comes of a -brave, true race. His actions prove that blood will tell,” rejoined -Chapman with more enthusiasm than it seemed possible for one of his -disposition to exhibit. - -“Oh! Pshaw! Nonsense! I give Jack greater credit for his courage and -faithfulness than you do when you announce the absurd doctrine that men -inherit such qualities. I give him alone credit for what he is, not -his race or blood. Blood may be well enough in hounds and horses, but -education and culture make the man not the blood in his veins,” exclaimed -Burton impatiently. - -“The same reason that exists for the superiority of the well-bred horse -or dog, causes the man of a good race to be the superior of the man of -an inferior race,” said Chapman meaningly, with an almost imperceptible -sneer in the tone of his voice. - -“That argument might hold good provided that men like horses carried -jockeys to furnish the intelligence or like hounds had huntsmen to guide -them,” replied the Manager with more heat than seemed justified. - -“Give a mule the most astute jockey on earth and he is no match for the -thorough-bred horse. Give the mongrel cur the craftiest huntsman, he -can neither find nor hold as the hound of pure blood. Give the man of -inferior race every advantage that education and culture can furnish, he -still remains inferior to the man of the purer, better race and blood. -The superiority of the latter lies in the inherent qualities of his -race,” replied Chapman, while a sinister smile distorted his thin scarlet -lips, and a baleful light flashed from his black eyes. For a moment he -waited to see the effect of his last speech, then turned and glided from -the Manager’s office. - - - - -IX. - - -Arabella Chapman was the neatest of housekeepers. The sitting room of -the home of David Chapman was a pattern of tidiness and cleanliness, -the furniture was rubbed and polished until it shone like glass, every -picture, rug and curtain was as speckless as newly fallen snow. - -Miss Arabella seemed especially created to form the central figure of her -surroundings, as seated on a low rocking chair, she plied a neat little -needle on some nice little article of lace-work. - -No tiny, tidy wren was ever brighter and more chipper in its shining -little brass cage than was Miss Arabella, as, bird-like, she peeped at -her brother, when he drew the cover from the violoncello which stood in -one corner of the room. - -“I am glad to see that you intend passing the evening at home, David,” -piped up the ancient maiden. - -“It has really been so long since we had any music that I am delighted -to see you uncover your violoncello,” continued the twin sister of David -Chapman. - -“Well, Arabella, the fact is that in my many excursions during the last -year I have collected such a quantity of food for thought, that, like a -well filled camel I feel it necessary to pause and chew the cud awhile,” -replied David arranging some sheets of music on a stand and passing his -hand lovingly over the chords of the instrument that he held. - -“I must admit that I should prefer to remain hungry mentally forever if -to procure food for thought it were necessary to don the apparel of a -tramp, and prowl around at all hours of the night, seeking, doubtless, -in the vilest dens, among the lowest vagabonds for mental sustenance,” -chirped Arabella sharply, prodding her needlework spitefully. - -“Perhaps, my good sister, you will never quite understand that some -men are born investigators. By nature they are led to investigate any -phenomenon that presents itself.” - -“Then I insist that it is a most unfortunate thing for one so born,” -pecked Miss Arabella with the sharpness of a quarrelsome English sparrow. - -“It causes one to make a Paul Pry of himself and wander about in a very -questionable manner at unseemly hours, to the injury of both health and -reputation. When one of your age, David, is so endowed by nature it is a -positive misfortune.” - -Chapman appeared greatly amused by the irritated manner of his sister, -for he smiled in that ghastly way of his as he leaned back in his chair, -still with his violoncello resting between his legs, and said, - -“You see, Arabella, there may be a great difference in the way we regard -the affairs of life. Doubtless scientific researches may not afford -much pleasure to a spinster of your age, but such researches are very -attractive to me.” - -“All I can add to the opinion already expressed is that when your -so-called scientific researches not alone lead you to assume the -character of an outcast, and cause you to wander about at night like -a homeless cat, but also induce you to make our home a receptacle for -all the stray, vulgar, dirty negroes that happen to come to Boston, I -must certainly protest against indulgence in such researches by you,” -retorted the elderly maiden severely, as she cast her glances about her -immaculately clean apartment, and remembered some disagreeable event of -the last few months. - -David was highly amused by this speech, for he gave utterance to a -cackling kind of laugh and exclaimed, - -“Arabella, you’ll never get to heaven if the road be muddy. You will be -fearful of getting your skirts soiled. I shall be right sorry for your -soul if the path to the other place be clean. I fear in that event that -nothing could hold you back from going straight to Hades.” - -“Don’t be ridiculous, David. You know full well that I am no more -particular about tidiness than every other decent woman.” - -What monomaniac on the subject of cleanliness ever thought otherwise? - -“I insist,” continued Miss Arabella indignantly, “that when one indulges -a fad to the extent of disarranging an entire household, under the -pretense that it is part of a scientific research, it is time to protest -against such proceedings.” - -“Oh, I don’t imagine that the entire household has seriously suffered by -my investigations in the field of ethnology,” replied the brother still -enjoying his sister’s perturbation of mind as she recalled some recent -experiences. - -“It may be highly amusing to you, David. I hope that you enjoy the joke, -but it has been anything but amusing to me and to Bridget, having to -clean, rub and air every article of furniture in the house two or three -times each week, and it is no laughing matter to freeze while the cold -wind blows the disgusting odors left by your guest out of the rooms. -Bridget has notified me that she will leave if you continue to make a -hostelry for dirty darkies out of the house,” said the sister fairly -shivering at the remembrance of the condition in which she had found her -spotless premises after a visit of some of her brother’s newly found -associates. - -“I don’t think that I am the only member of this family that has a hobby, -Arabella,” replied Chapman grinning at the flushed little lady. - -“I am unaware of what you refer to, David. I certainly have no such -uncomfortable idiosyncrasy as a hard ridden hobby.” - -“Don’t you think even cleanliness may become a most pestiferous hobby?” -queried Chapman with assumed guilelessness. - -“Cleanliness and tidiness are but other words for common decency, and can -never be classed with the vagaries of a ‘born investigator,’” said the -spinster sarcastically, sticking her dictum into her needlework, savagely. - -“You doubtless have heard, Arabella, of the woman who possessed so much -of what you call ‘common decency’ that she forced her family to live -in the barn in order that the dwelling might remain clean and tidy,” -answered Chapman, to whom the wrath of Arabella was the greatest pleasure -imaginable. - -“I only wish that we had a barn. I would soon enough force you to -entertain your negro visitors there instead of bringing their odoriferous -persons and filthy accompaniments into this house,” cried the sister -vindictively. - -“You must be reasonable, my most precise sister,” said David. - -“When I became interested in the science of ethnology, I deemed -it expedient to begin by studying the negro race, their habits, -characteristics, manners and tendencies. Being a man born and bred -in a northern state I have never had the opportunities possessed by -southerners, who are surrounded by negroes from infancy, to know the -traits of that most interesting race. Hence I have been forced, on behalf -of science, to go forth and gather such material as was obtainable for -subjects of study and observation.” - -“David, don’t be hypocritical with me; you know that neither ethnology -nor the negro race possessed the slightest interest for you, until you -learned that Walter Burton had a strain of negro blood in his veins.” - -“I do not deny that my zeal was not diminished by that fact,” answered -Chapman shortly and dryly. - -“And I maintain that your zeal is caused entirely by that fact, and I -wish to say further, David Chapman,” exclaimed the withered wisp of -a woman, drawing herself up very straight in her chair and looking -angrily at her brother, “if all this investigation and research lead to -anything that may cause trouble, annoyance or pain to Lucy Dunlap, whom -I have held in these arms as a baby, then I say that you are a wicked, -ungrateful man, and I wish to know nothing of your diabolic designs, nor -of the disgusting science that you call ethnology.” - -God bless the dried-up spinster! God bless thy bony, skinny arms that -held that baby! Thrice blessed be the good and kindly heart that beats -warmly in thy weak and withered little body. - -Seriously and steadily did Chapman gaze for a minute at the vehement, -fragile figure before him, then said meditatively, - -“I believe she loves the Dunlap name as much as I do myself.” - -“More, indeed a great deal more, for I could not cause pain to one of -that name even though I benefited all the other Dunlaps who have ever -been born by so doing,” quickly cried the old maid. - -“Don’t alarm yourself needlessly, sister,” said Chapman earnestly. - -“My investigations are neither undertaken to injure Lucy nor could they -do so even had I that intention. It is too late. I am perfectly frank -and truthful when I state that the subject is exceedingly interesting to -me, and the developments fascinating. Since I have familiarized myself -somewhat with the leading peculiarities of the negro race I recognize -much more of the negro in Burton than I imagined could possibly exist in -one possessing so great a preponderance of the blood of the white race.” - -“I am glad to learn that no harm can come to Lucy by your persistent -pursuit after knowledge of ethnology, but I must say it does not seem to -me a very genteel course of conduct for a man of you age and education to -be spying about and watching an associate in business,” said the candid -Arabella. - -“I assure you that I am not obliged either to play the spy or watch -particularly, for it seems to me that the negro in Burton positively -obtrudes itself daily. In fact I am certain that it is neither because -I am watching for such evidences, nor because I can now recognize -negro traits better than formerly, but simply because the negro in -the man becomes daily more obtrusively apparent,” answered Dunlap’s -superintendent as he began tuning and testing his favorite musical -instrument. - -Even the most prejudiced critic would be forced to admit that whatever -David Chapman undertook to do he accomplished well. He never relaxed in -persistent effort until an assigned task was performed. He became for the -time being absolutely fanatic upon any subject he had before him. His -performance on the violoncello was of the same character as his efforts -in other directions where his attention was demanded. It was artistic, -magnificent, sympathetic and impressive. - -To the violoncello Chapman seemed to tell his soul-story; through it he -breathed those hidden sentiments that were so deeply buried in the secret -recesses of his heart that their existence could never be suspected. -Music seemed the angel guarding with flaming sword the gateway of -this peculiar man’s soul. When music raised the barrier glimpses of -unexpected beauties surprised all those who knew the jealous, prying, -cynical nature of the man. - -As David Chapman began playing his sister with closed eyes rested her -head on the back of the rocking chair and bathed her lonely old heart -in the flood of melody that poured from the instrument in her brother’s -hands. - -How that music spoke to the poor, craving, hungry heart within her flat -and weazen bosom. Youth and hope seemed singing joyous songs of life’s -springtime; love then burst forth blushing while whispering the sweet -serenade of that glorious summer season of womankind. Then in cadence -soft and tender, gently as fall the autumn leaves, the music sadly told -of blighting frosts. Youth and hope like summer roses withered and -vanished. Now the gloom, despair and disappointment of life’s winter -wailing forth filled the heart of the forlorn old maiden; tears rolled -down her wrinkled cheeks unheeded and almost a sob escaped from her -quivering lips. - -Weep no more sad heart. The music in pealing tones of triumph is shouting -the Glad Tidings of that eternity of endless spring, where all is Love -and all is Joy; where the flowers of everlasting summer never fade and -die; where no blighting frost can come to wither the blossoms of Youth -and Hope; where the cold blasts of winter’s gloom and disappointment -never blow to chill and sadden the soul. - -Grandly resound those notes triumphant; open seem the gates of that -promised future, together brother and sister their souls seem ascending; -above all is bright, refulgent with the great light of gladness, now, -coming sweetly, faintly, they catch the sound of welcome, sung above by -that heavenly chorus. - -The music died away in silence. Brother and sister sat for a long -time, each busy with their own thoughts. Who but the All-wise can ever -tell what thoughts come on such occasions to those who in silence hold -self-communion in the sanctuary of their own souls. - -“David, it seems strange to me that one having the tenderness of heart -that you have, should never have found some good woman to love,” said the -sister softly when the silence was finally broken. - -“Indeed, sister, I sometimes think I might have done so and been happier -far than I am, had I not early in life given, in the intense way that -is part of my nature, all the love of my heart and consecrated all my -devotion to the business in which I then engaged and submerged my every -emotion in the glory and honor of the house of ‘J. Dunlap.’” - -“Ah, brother, I often think of that and wonder what would happen if aught -should go wrong with the object of your life-long devotion.” - -“It would kill me, Arabella,” said Chapman quietly. - -The certainty of the result to the man, should misfortune shatter the -idol of his adoration, was more convincingly conveyed to the listener by -that simple sentence and quiet tone than excited exclamation could have -carried; Arabella uttered a sigh as she thought of the unshared place -that ‘J. Dunlap’ held in the strenuous soul of her brother. - -“Brother, you should not allow your mind and heart to become so wrapped -up in the house of Dunlap; remember the two old gentlemen, in the course -of nature, must soon pass away and that then there is no Dunlap to -continue the business, and the career of the firm must come to an end.” - -“No, Arabella, that may not happen,” replied Chapman. His voice, however, -gave no evidence of the pleasure that such a statement from him seemed to -warrant. - -“There was an ante-nuptial contract entered into by Burton, in which -it is agreed that any child born to James Dunlap’s granddaughter shall -bear the name of Dunlap; hence the career of our great house will not -necessarily terminate upon the death of the twin brothers.” - -“I am so glad to know that, David. I have been much concerned for your -sake, brother, fearing the dire consequences of the death of both of the -old gentlemen whom you have served so devotedly for forty odd years.” -The reassured little creature paused and then a thought, all womanly, -occurred to her mind reddening her peaked visage as she exclaimed, - -“What beautiful children the Burton-Dunlaps should be!” - -A worried, anxious, doubtful look came over Chapman’s countenance. He -gazed at the floor thoughtfully for several minutes and then apparently -speaking to himself said, - -“That is the point; there is where I am at sea; it is that question that -gives me most anxiety.” - -“Why, what can you mean, most inscrutable man, Mr. Burton is one of the -handsomest men that I ever saw and surely no prettier woman ever lived -than sweet Lucy Dunlap,” cried the loyal-hearted old maid. - -“It is not a question of beauty, it is a question of blood. If it be only -a matter of appearances Lucy Burton’s children would probably be marvels -of infantine loveliness, but it is a scientific problem,” replied David -seriously and earnestly. - -“What in the name of all that is nonsensical has science to do with -Lucy’s babies if any be sent to her?” cried out Miss Arabella, forgetting -in her excitement that maidenly reserve that was usually hers. - -“I regret to say that science has a great deal to do with the subject,” -answered the brother quietly. “It is a matter of grave doubt in the -minds of many scientific men whether, under any circumstances, an -octoroon married to one of the white race ever can produce descendants; -it is claimed by many respectable authorities that negro blood is not -susceptible of reduction beyond the point attained in the octoroon; that -it must terminate there or breed back through its original channel,” -continued Chapman. - -“It is not true! I don’t believe a word of such stuff,” ejaculated Miss -Arabella, dogmatically. - -“Authorities admit, it is true, that there may be exceptions to the -invariability of this law, but claim that such instances are faults -in nature and likely, as all faults in nature, to produce the most -astounding results. These authorities assert that the progeny of an -octoroon and one of the white race being the outcome of a fault in -nature, are certain to be deficient in strength and vigor, are apt to -be deformed, and even may possibly breed back to a remote coal-black -ancestor,” said Chapman, speaking slowly, punctuating each sentence with -a gasping sound, almost a groan. - -“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed his sister rising in indignation from her -chair and moving toward the door, saying, - -“I positively will hear no more of your absurd science. It’s all -foolishness. If that be the idiocy that you learn from ethnology I -think that you had better occupy your time otherwise. Thanks to your -‘authorities’ and their crazy notions, I suppose that I shall dream all -night of monkeys and monsters, but even that is better than sitting her -and listening to my brother, whom I supposed had some brains, talk like -a fit subject for the lunatic asylum.” With the closing sentence, as a -parting shot at her brother the incensed spinster sailed out of the door -and with a whisk went up stairs to her virgin chamber. - - - - -X. - - -“Lucy Burton is a perfect dream tonight, is she not?” exclaimed -enthusiastically Alice Stanhope, gazing admiringly at the fair companion -of her school days who had just entered the room leaning on the arm of -her husband. - -“Almost as pretty as you are,” gallantly replied ‘Bertie’ Winthrop, to -whom the remark of the young woman was addressed. - -“Well, don’t expect me to vie with you in flattery and reply by saying -that Mr. Burton is almost as handsome as you are, for I am like the -father of our country, ‘I can’t tell a lie.’” - -“Oh! Now, that’s good. I am justified in supposing from that speech that -Burton is not nearly as handsome as I am, much obliged,” replied young -Winthrop, laughing and making a profound obeisance to the pretty creature -beside him. - -“You know what I mean you rascal, so don’t try to look innocent. See -with what adoring glances Lucy looks up into her husband’s face,” said -Miss Stanhope again calling her attendant’s attention to the group of -guests near the entrance. - -“Are you going to look at me like that a year from now?” asked ‘Bertie’ -in a quizzical fashion as he slyly squeezed the dimpled elbow near his -side. On dit, Alice Stanhope and Albert Winthrop will soon be married. - -“Bertie, you horrid tease, I don’t believe you will ever deserve to be -looked at except angrily,” retorted the blushing girl and added as she -moved a little further from him, - -“And you behave, sir, or I won’t let you remain by me another minute.” - -“It’s a deuce of a crush you have gotten up,” said ‘Bertie’ promptly -disregarding the warning that he had received by stepping up close to the -side of his fiancee. - -“Where did you get all these people anyway, Alice?” - -“There’s no ‘all these people’ about it, they are the musical set among -my friends in Boston and New York; as Signor Capello and Mme. Cantara -are to sing of course everyone invited was eager to be present.” - -“Never invite all your musical friends to dine with us when we are—” - -“Hush, you embarrassing wretch,” cried Miss Stanhope turning to welcome -some recently arrived guests. - -After considerable diplomatic finessing and resort to that most -efficacious auxiliary, “Papa’s cheque book,” Miss Stanhope had secured -the services of the two great operatic luminaries to sing at a grand -musicale given by her. - -All the “swell set” of Boston and New York thronged the palacious home -of the Stanhope’s on the occasion. The gray-haired, courtly governor of -Massachusetts was chatting as gaily with petite Bessie Winthrop as he had -done with her grandmother a half century before. Foreign diplomatists -and Federal potentates discussed in corners the comparative merits of -Italian and German composers of music; literary lights from all over New -England joined the musical element of New York and Boston in filling the -Stanhope’s halls. - -“I insisted upon coming here tonight, Alice, even though this over-worked -husband of mine did complain of a headache at dinner and I was loathe to -have him accompany me. You remember this is the anniversary of my wedding -and I wished to celebrate the day,” said Lucy Burton to the hostess when -at last Burton had managed to make a way for himself and wife through the -crowded rooms and reached the place where Miss Stanhope was receiving her -guests. - -“I am awfully glad you came, dear. We are sure to have a treat. Signor -Capello has promised to sing something from the new opera by Herman that -has just been produced in Berlin,” and addressing Burton Miss Stanhope -added, - -“I trust that your headache has disappeared.” - -“Thank you, Miss Alice, it has entirely vanished under the influence of -my charming wife’s ministrations, and the brilliant gathering about me -here,” replied Burton. - -“A slight pallor and circles around sad eyes, you know, Mr. Burton, give -an exceedingly interesting and romantic appearance to dark men,” rejoined -Alice Stanhope smiling in spite of her effort not to do so when she -noticed the anxious, worshiping look with which Lucy regarded her husband. - -“Really, I believe Lucy is more in love than she was a year ago,” said -the laughing hostess as she turned to receive the German Ambassador, -who had traveled all the way from Washington in the hope of hearing -selections from Herman’s new opera. - -In all that gathering of fair women and gallant men, there was no couple -so noticeable as the splendid pair who this day one year before were -wedded. - -As Burton and his wife passed through the crowded halls all eyes were -turned toward them, paying mute tribute to the exceeding beauty of both -man and woman. - -Burton, by one of those sudden rebounds of spirit to which he was -subject, inspired by the gaiety about him was in a perfect glow of -intellectual fire. The brilliancy of his well trained mind never -shone more brightly, his wit scintillated in apt epigrams, and -incomparably clever metaphors. He won the heart of the German -Ambassador by discussing with the taste and discrimination of a savant -that distinguished Teuton’s favorite composer, Herman, using the deep -gutturals of the German language with the ease of a native of Prussia. - -He exchanged bon-mots with wicked old Countess DeMille, who declared him -a _preux chevalier_ and the only American whom she had ever met who spoke -her language, so she called French, like a Parisian. - -Lucy’s beaming face and sparkling eyes told of the rapture of pride and -love that filled her heart. She looked indeed the “Princess” as with -her well-turned head, with its gold-brown crown, held high, she proudly -looked upon her lover and her lord and caught the approval and applause -that appeared in every eye about her. - -Never had her husband seemed so much superior to all other men, in Lucy’s -mind, as he did this night. Wherever they paused in their passage around -the rooms, that spot immediately became the center of a group of people -eager to render homage to the regal beauty of the young matron, and to -enjoy the wit and vivacity of the most _distingue_ man present. - -“Ah, Mr. Burton, I see that the splendor of the Rose of Dunlap remains -undiminished, notwithstanding its transference from the garden of its -early growth,” said the gallant Governor of the old Bay State when -greeting the young couple as they stopped near him. - -“The splendor of the roses of Massachusetts is so transcendent that it -would remain unimpaired in any keeping how e’er unworthy,” replied Lucy’s -husband, bowing gracefully to the Executive of the State. - -“When I saw you enter the room, Mrs. Burton, I hoped to see my old -friend, your grandfather, follow. How is James? You see I take the -liberty of still speaking of him as I did many years before your bright -eyes brought light into the Dunlap mansion.” - -“Grandfather is very well, thank you, Governor, but I failed to coax him -away from his easy chair and slippers this evening; beside I think he was -a little ‘grump,’ as I call it, about having lost a wager to a certain -young woman of about my height; he declared it was not the box of gloves -but loss of prestige that he disliked,” answered Lucy merrily as she -looked up at the amused countenance of the Governor. - -“I fear that I shall be obliged to exercise my official prerogative and -give that gay youth, James Dunlap, a lecture if I hear anything more of -his reckless wagers,” said the jocose old gentleman, and then added: - -“By the way, Mrs. Burton, the newspapers this evening contain long -accounts of the magnificent conduct of a New England sea captain, to whom -the King of England has sent a letter of congratulation and praise. As -the name given is Captain John Dunlap, I have been wondering if it can be -that stubborn fellow whom your Uncle John and I endeavored to convince -that he ought to enter Harvard.” - -“It is the same stubborn, dear old cousin Jack who preferred the sea -to being sent to Harvard, and he is the best and bravest sailor on the -waters blue,” answered Lucy quickly, her face flushed by pleasure at -hearing Jack’s praises sung and pride in knowing that he was her kinsman. - -“It seems the lad was wiser than we were when he refused to be convinced -by John and me. A grand sailor might have been spoiled in the making of -a poor scholar. As long as the sailor sons of Uncle Sam can number men of -your cousin Jack’s kind among them we need never fear for honor of the -Gem of the Ocean,” said the Governor quite seriously. - -“I heartily endorse that sentiment, your Excellency, but fear that on -land or sea it would be difficult to discover many men like Jack Dunlap,” -exclaimed Walter Burton warmly. - -“When is he coming home, Lucy? You know that I lost my heart the first -time that I met your bronzed sailor cousin, and am waiting anxiously -for my mariner’s return,” said Bessie Winthrop, her violet-colored eyes -twinkling with the gladness of youth and happiness. _En passant_ she was -a fearful little flirt. - -“He does not say in his letters when we may expect him, but when I write -I’ll tell him what you say, and if he does not hurry home after that -nothing can induce him to do so,” said Lucy as she moved away with her -husband to make room for several admirers of Miss Winthrop who were -eagerly awaiting an opportunity to pay court to that popular young lady. - -Just as Burton and his wife left the Governor and his pretty companion, -the tuning of instruments announced the prelude to the programme for the -evening. Silence fell upon the assembly, the gentlemen sought seats for -the ladies and secured the most available standing room for themselves. - -Surely Signor Capello never sang so grandly before. The superb harmony of -Herman’s great composition filled the souls of that cultivated audience. -The German Ambassador was in a perfect ecstasy of delight, and even the -least appreciative were impressed, while the hypercritic, casting aside -all assumption of _ennui_, became enthusiastic. - -Madame Cantara trilled and warbled in tones so clear, flute-like and -sweet that to close one’s eyes was to imagine the apartment some vast -forest, filled with a myriad of feathered songsters, vying with each -other for woodland supremacy in Apollo’s blessed sphere. - -Miss Stanhope’s musicale was a pronounced and splendid success. Nothing -approaching it had entertained Boston’s fastidious “four hundred” that -season. - -Burton declared that it was the most delightful function he had attended -in years, when Lucy, enwrapped in furs, was closely nestled at his -side in the carriage after the entertainment was over. Burton was _par -excellence_ a judge of such affairs. In fact, he had been accorded the -position of _arbiter elegantiarum_ by a tacit understanding among people -of taste and culture in Boston’s elite society. - -It was among such scenes, surroundings, environments and society as above -described that Burton’s life had been passed since coming to America. It -was in this joyous atmosphere that the first year of Lucy’s married life -glided by so rapidly that the length of time seemed difficult for her to -realize. It was like the dream of a summer’s day, so bright, cloudless -and calm, so fragrant with the perfume of love’s early blossoms, that its -passage was as that of a fleeting shadow. - - * * * * * - -The sinking sun cast lengthening shadows across Manila Bay, where -swinging peacefully at their anchors lay the great war ships of several -nations, and where the tall masts of a fleet of merchantmen caused bars -of shade to stripe the burnished waters of the Bay. - -The starry flag of the great Republic had received that salute, ever -loyally given by the sons of Columbia, as the sun sank beneath the -horizon, and the bugle blew its farewell to the departing orb of day. - -Four majestic, floating fortresses, on whose decks stood uncovered crews -as the proud flag of the union descended, gave notice to the world of -the might of that young giant of the west that held dominion in the -Philippines. - -Striding along in the rapidly darkening twilight, up the main street of -Manila, walked one who would have been known as a sailor by his swinging, -rolling gait, even without the nautical cut and material of the clothing -that he wore. - -As he approached the newly erected, palacious American hotel, around -which ran a broad veranda filled with tables and chairs, the chief resort -of the army and naval officers stationed at Manila, a voice cried from -the balcony above him: - -“Jack Dunlap, by all that is marvelous!” - -The sailor-man looked up and with an exclamation of pleased recognition, -shouted: - -“Tom Maxon, by all that is fortunate!” - -“Come up here this instant, you sea-dog, wet your whistle and swap yarns -with me,” called the first speaker, rising from the table at which he was -seated and hurrying to the top of the half dozen steps that rose from the -sidewalk to the entrance on the veranda. - -The two men shook hands with the warmth and cordiality of old cronies, -when the sailor reached the balcony. The meeting was evidently as -agreeable as it was unexpected. - -The man who had been seated on the veranda, when the sailor approached, -was apparently of the same age as the friend whose coming he had hailed -with delight. He, too, was evidently a son of Neptune, for he wore the -cap and undress uniform of a lieutenant in the United States Navy. - -He was a big, fine man on whose good-looking, tanned face a smile seemed -more natural, and, in fact, was more often seen than a frown. - -“Jack, old man, you can’t imagine how glad I am to run afoul of you. -Had the choice been left to me as to whom I would choose to walk up the -street just now, I’d have bawled out ‘Good old Jack Dunlap!’ Well, how -are you anyway? Where’ve you been? and how are all in Boston? But first -let’s have a drink; what shall it be, bully?” - -All of these questions and ejaculations were made while the naval man -still held Jack’s hand and was towing him along like a huge, puffing -tug toward the table from which the officer sprang up to welcome his -companion. - -“By Jove, Tom, give me time to breathe; you’ve hurled a regular broadside -of questions into my hull. Haul off and hold a minute; cease firing! as -you fighters say,” expostulated our old acquaintance, Captain Jack, as he -was fairly shoved into a chair at the table and opposite the laughing and -red-faced lieutenant. - -“Come here, waiter,” called Maxon to a passing attendant, in high glee -over Jack’s cry for quarter and his own good luck in meeting an old chum -when he was especially lonely and eager to have a talk about home and -friends. - -“Bring us a bottle of champagne and let it be as cold as the Admiral’s -heart when a poor devil of a lieutenant asks for a few day’s shore leave.” - -“Now, my water-logged consort, we will first and foremost drink in a -brimming bumper of ‘Fizz’ the golden dome in Boston and the bonny-bright -eyes of the beauties that beam on it,” exclaimed jolly Tom Maxon, -bubbling over with happiness at having just the man he wished to talk -about Boston with. - -“I say! Tom, have you been studying up on alliteration? You rang in all -the B’s of the hive in that toast,” said the merchant skipper, emptying -his glass in honor of Boston and her fair daughters. - -“I don’t require thought or study to become eloquent when the ‘Hub’ and -her beauties be the theme, but you just up anchor and sail ahead giving -an account of yourself, my hearty,” Tom replied with great gusto. - -“To begin, then, as the typical story writer does, one November day some -thirteen months ago, I sailed away (I’ve caught the complaint. I came -near making a rhyme) from Boston in the good ship ‘Adams.’ When a week -out of harbor as per instructions from the house of Dunlap, I unsealed my -papers to find that the ship had been presented to me by my kinsmen, the -Dunlap brothers.” - -“Stop! Hold, my hearty, until we drink the health of the jolly old twins. -May their shadows never grow less and may the good Lord send along such -kinsmen to poor Tom Maxon,” interrupted the irreverent Tom, filling the -glasses and proceeding to honor the toast by promptly draining his. - -Jack and Tom had been pupils in the same school in Boston when they were -boys. Their tastes and dispositions being much alike they became chums -and warm friends. Like young ducks, both of the lads naturally took -to the water. When they had gotten through with the grammar-school an -appointment to the Annapolis Naval Academy was offered to young Maxon -by the representative of his Congressional district, which he joyfully -accepted, and hence was now a United States officer. Jack had entered the -High School and later the merchant marine service. - -Though seeing but little of each other after their first separation, the -same feeling of friendship and comradeship was maintained between Jack -and Tom that had existed when as Boston schoolboys they chummed together, -and whenever, at rare intervals, they were fortunate enough to meet they -mutually threw off all the reserve that had come to them with age and -became Boston boys once again. - -“Now, heave ahead, my bully-boy!” cried Tom, putting down his empty wine -glass. - -“In addition to the gift of the ship from the firm, I found that my old -cousin John had personally presented me with a large part of the ship’s -cargo.” - -“Again hold! you lucky sea-dog! Here’s to dear old Cousin John, and God -bless him!” called Tom gleefully, his generous sailor-soul as happy over -the good fortune of his friend as if he himself had been the beneficiary -of Mr. John Dunlap’s munificence, again pledging Jack’s kind kinsman in a -glass of iced wine. - -“With all my heart I say, amen! Tom, God never made better men and more -liberal kinsmen than the ‘J. Dunlaps,’” said Jack earnestly as he began -again his recital. - -“When I arrived in Melbourne I disposed of my cargo through our agents, -loaded and sailed for Liverpool, returned to Melbourne, took on a cargo -for Manila, and here I am drinking to long life and good health to my two -old kinsmen with my school fellow Tom Maxon.” - -“And the future programme is what?” said the lieutenant. - -“You have left out lots about yourself, that I know of, concerning your -past movements, so try to be truthful about your future plans,” continued -Maxon, assuming an inquisitorial air. - -“All right, my knowing father confessor,” answered Dunlap, laughing. - -“I have done well as far as making money is concerned, which statement -I wish added to my former deposition. Oh! most wise judge; I propose -sailing within the week for Hong-kong, thence to San Francisco, from the -latter port I desire to clear for Boston, in God’s country, stopping, -however, at Port au Prince, Haiti, both as a matter of business and also -with the design of personally thanking my kind godfather for his gifts. -Finally I hope to reach New England and be with my dear mother while -yet the Yankee hills are blooming with summer flowers. One word further -and my story is finished. My object in returning to Boston is to induce -my mother to return with me to Australia, where I have purchased some -property and where I desire to make my home in future—finis—” - -“Fairly well told, my bold buccaneer; however, I disapprove of your -making Australia your home. Now, sir, what about saving a few smallpox -patients, emigrants, and such like, and receiving a letter from H.M. King -of England, and such trifles as we read of in the newspaper?” demanded -Tom, sententiously. - -“Oh! That just happened, and there has been too much said about it to -find a place on my logbook,” replied Jack, shortly, coloring just a shade. - -“I’m!—well, no matter—I don’t agree with you, but I will shake your hand -once again and say that I find my old chum as modest as I always knew -him to be brave,” rejoined Tom Maxon, rising, reaching over and grasping -Jack’s hand, and bowing gravely and respectfully as he held it. - -Jack’s face was now all fire-red, as he said in great embarrassment: - -“Oh, Pshaw, slack up, Tom, haul off.” - -“You know what the Admiral said when he read the account of what you had -done?” cried out Tom when he settled back in his chair. - -“Of course, you don’t, but it’s a fine ram at the merchant marine. The -Admiral thinks that an officer for sea service can’t be made except at -Annapolis. When he read of what you had done, he exclaimed: ‘That fellow -is almost good enough to be an officer in the United States Navy.’ The -Executive officer who heard the Admiral repeated it, and ever since the -fellows of our mess, who hate some of the ‘snobs’ that Annapolis sends to -us, have been quietly poking fun at the old man about it.” - -“Now, will Lieutenant Thomas Maxon, U.S.N., in all the glory of his -Annapolis seamanship, give an account of himself?” broke in Jack, anxious -to escape further mention of his own affairs. - -“The last time I saw you, Tom, you were dancing at the end of Bessie -Winthrop’s hawser. Though I had never, at the time, met your charmer, I -thought her a pretty craft.” - -“That’s it! Now you touch the raw spot!” cried Tom. - -“I was stationed at Boston, and went about some little. I met Bert -Winthrop’s sister and, like an ass of a sailor that I am, fell in love -with her at the first turn of the wheel. Well, I rolled around after the -beauty like a porpoise in the wake of a dolphin for the whole season. -Finally I mustered up courage to bring the chase to a climax and got a -most graceful conge for my temerity, whereupon I retired in bad order, -and was rejoiced when assigned to the battleship Delaware and sent to -sea.” - -As the rollicking sailor ended his story, he threw back his head and -began softly singing in a sentimental tone, “Oh! Bessie, you have broken -my heart.” - -“Well, I’ll go bail that the fracture won’t kill you, you incorrigible -joker,” said Jack, interrupting the flow of Maxon’s sentimentality. - -“See, now, our best friends never take us seriously, and sympathize with -us when we suffer,” said the lieutenant dolefully. - -“But to continue my sad story. I was ordered to the U.S.S. Delaware, -flag-ship of the Asiatic fleet. Admiral Snave can out-swear Beelzebub, -has the sympathy of a pirate, and would work up all the old iron of a -fleet if there was as much in it as in the mountains of Pennsylvania. So -your poor, delicate friend is tempted to ask to be retired on account -of physical disability.” So saying, Tom began roaring with laughter so -healthful that it shook his stalwart frame. - -“Hold though!” exclaimed the U.S. officer, stopping in the midst of his -outburst of merriment, suddenly thinking of something omitted. - -“You must understand that we all admire the Admiral hugely. He is a -magnificent officer, and a fighter to the end of his plume; carries a -chip on his shoulder when he imagines anyone is spoiling for a fight, or -even looks crossways at grand Old Glory.” - -Thus the two friends talked on, relating their experiences, joking -each other, and laughing in that careless happy way, common alike to -schoolboys and those who sail the sea. - -Captain Dunlap declared that this berth was good enough for him, that -he would drop his anchor right there, and calling a waiter proceeded to -order everything on the menu for dinner, telling the waiter to serve it -where they were and serve slowly so that they might enjoy a rambling -conversation while they dined. - -Eating, drinking, talking and smoking, the chums of boyhood days sat for -hours, until the streets became, as was the veranda, almost deserted. -Suddenly in an interval of silence as they puffed their cigars, a -piercing scream disturbed the quiet of the street below. Again and again -was the cry repeated in an agonized female voice. - -Both men sprang to their feet and peered along the dark avenue that ran -toward the bay. About a block away they discerned just within the outer -circle of light cast by an electric burner a struggling mass of men. -At the instant that Jack and Tom discovered whence came the cries, a -figure broke from the crowd and ran screaming through the illuminated -spot on the avenue pursued by a half dozen men wearing the Russian naval -uniform. The pursued figure was that of a half nude female. - -With an angry growl, Jack Dunlap placed one hand on the low railing -around the veranda and cleared it at a bound, landing on the sidewalk -below, he broke into a run, and dashed toward the group of men under the -electric light, who were struggling with the person whom they had pursued -and recaptured. - -“The flag follows trade in this case,” cried Maxon, who would joke even -on his death-bed, as he, too, sprang to the pavement and raced after Jack. - -The brutal Finnish sailors of the Russian man-of-war in Manila Bay swore -to their mess-mates that ten gigantic Yankees had fallen upon them and -taken away the Malay girl. They thus accounted for their broken noses and -discolored optics. - -Truth is, that it was a rush; the working of four well-trained Yankee -arms like the piston rods of a high-speed engine. Outraged American -manhood and old Aryan courage against the spirit of brutal lustfulness, -ignorance and race inferiority. - -“I say, Jack,” cried out Maxon as he raised his face from the basin in -which he had been bathing a bruise, “Why don’t you go in for the P.R. -championship? You must be a sweet skipper for a crew to go rusty with! -Why, Matey, you had the whole gang going before I even reached you. Look -here, sonny, you are just hell and a hurricane in a shindy of that kind.” - -“Well, I tell you, Tom,” called Jack from the next room, where, seated on -the edge of the bed, he was binding a handkerchief around the bleeding -knuckles of his left hand. - -“That kind of thing always sets my blood boiling, but that in a city -under our flag an outrage of that kind should be attempted made me wild. -I guess from the looks of my hands that maybe I did punch rather hard.” -Rising, Jack walked to the open door between the two bedrooms and added: - -“I don’t mind just a plain fight, or even sometimes a murder, but when -it comes to a brute assaulting a woman or child, I’m damned if I don’t -become like one of Victor Hugo’s characters, ‘I see red.’ Temper seems to -surge in my very blood.” - -Jack’s face, as he spoke, wore an angry scowl, to which the earnest -gesticulations with his bandaged fists gave double meaning. - -“Of course it surges in your blood, old chap, as it does on such -occasions in mine and every other decent descendant of Shem and Japheth -on earth,” replied Tom Maxon. - - - - -XI. - - -The Scottish Bard has written that to see fair Melrose Abbey a-right, -one must visit it in the moon’s pale light. To see New England in its -greatest glory one must visit that section of hallowed memories in the -summer season. - -Then it is that granite hills are wrapped in emerald mantles. Then it is -that hill-sides, slopes and meadows are dimpled with countless daisies, -peeping enticingly from the face of smiling nature. Then it is brooks, -released from winter’s icy bondage, laugh, sing, dance and gambol like -merry maidens in some care-free frolic. - -August, in the second year of Lucy Burton’s married life, found Dunlap’s -mansion still occupied by the entire family. True, the Dunlap estate lay -in the most elevated portion of the suburbs of Boston, and the house -stood in the center of extensive grounds almost park-like in extent and -arrangement, still it was unusual for the house to be occupied by the -family at that season of the year. - -Generations of Dunlaps had sought relief from city life and bustle during -the month of August, either among the Berkshire Hills, where an ornate -villa had been owned by them for decades, or at Old Orchard, where their -summer home was rather a palace than a cottage, though so called by -the family. Burton, too, had a fine establishment at Newport; yet this -eventful August found the family in their city residence. - -Many other things unusual attracted attention and caused comment among -the associates of members of the Dunlap household. Burton and Lucy had -been noticeably absent during the past few months from those public -functions to which, by their presence, they had formerly given so much -eclat. - -The very clerks in the office of J. Dunlap commented upon the jubilant -spirit that had taken possession of, the always genial, manager. Chapman -regarded his apparent joyousness with suspicion, and of all the office -forces alone seemed displeased with its presence. - -To intimate friends Burton spoke of selling the “Eyrie,” saying that it -was of no further use or pleasure to him; that for months he had only -been near it to select some choice flowers from the conservatory for the -vases that adorned his wife’s apartments. - -Mr. James Dunlap, ever the kindest, most considerate of beings, -the gentlest of gentlemen, had become so solicitous concerning his -granddaughter’s comfort and care as to appear almost old womanish. -The anxiety he displayed about all that tended to Lucy’s welfare was -absolutely pathetic. - -Walter Burton’s demeanor toward his young wife might, for all men, serve -as a model of devoted, thoughtful deportment on the part of husbands. -To amuse and entertain her seemed his all-absorbing idea and object. To -exercise his brilliant mental gifts in gay and enlivening conversation -was his chief pleasure. To use all the great musical talent that he -possessed, to drive any momentary shadow of sadness from her spirit. To -stroll about the garden in the moonlight, again whispering those words of -love by which he had first won her, was blissful occupation to him. - -Even good old Uncle John in far-off Haiti imbibed the spirit that seemed -all pervading in the realm about the young matron. Great hampers of -tropical fruits, plants and flowers came by trebly-paid expressage from -the West Indies, speed alone being considered. They must be fresh when -offered to Lucy. Then, too, almost daily messages came over the cable -from Haiti, “How are all today,” signed “John,” and it was ordered at -the office that each day should go a message to Port au Prince, unless -especially forbidden, saying, “All is well,” this to be signed “James.” - -Mrs. Church, the most sedate, composed and stately of old gentlewomen, -too, is in a flutter of suppressed excitement, frequently closeted in -deep and mysterious consultations with medical men and motherly looking -women; giving strange orders about the preparation of certain dishes for -the table, driving the chef almost distracted by forbidding sauces that -should always accompany some favorite entree of that tyrant. - -A suite of rooms in the Dunlap mansion has been newly decorated; nothing -like these decorations has ever been seen before in Boston. In elegance, -taste and beauty they are the _ne plus ultra_ of decorative art. One, -while in the sacred precincts of the recently remodeled apartments, might -readily imagine that spring had been captured and fettered here to make -its sweet, bright presence perpetual in this favored place. Colors of the -tinted sunbeam mingled with the peach blossom’s tender shade to make the -spot a bower of beauty wherein a smiling cupid might pause and fold his -wings to slumber, forgetful of his couch of pink pearl shell. - -The cultured, artistic, delicate taste of Boston’s _arbiter elegantiarum_ -never produced anything approaching the exquisite blending of colors and -unique, airy, harmonious fittings seen in this, the ideal conception of -the abode of angels. - -The delicacy and tenderness of Lucy’s refined and loving spirit -contributed to create an indefinable feeling that this was the chosen -spot where innocence, purity and love should seek repose. Her womanly -instinct had added soft shadings to art’s perfect handiwork. - -The great sea shell, half opened, made of shining silver, lined with -the pearly product of the Eastern Isles, in which lie, soft and white -as snow, downy cushions, filled from the breasts of Orkney’s far-famed -fowls, and these be-trimmed with lace in tracery like frost on window -pane, in texture so gossamery and light that the brief span of life seems -all too short in which to weave one inch, must surely be the nest wherein -some heaven-sent cherub shall nestle down in sleep. - -Some sprite from fairy-land alone may make a toilet with the miniature -articles of Etruscan gold, bejeweled with gems of azure-hued turquois -that fill the gilded dressing case. - -The chiffoniers, tables, chairs and stands are all inlaid with woods -of the rarest kinds and colors, with ivory and polished pearl shells -interwoven in queerly conceived mosaic; mirrors of finest plate here -and there are arranged that they may catch the beauteous image of the -cherubic occupant of this bijou bower, and countlessly reproduce its -angelic features; urns and basins of transparent china-ware, in the -production of which France and Germany have surpassed all former efforts, -beautified by the brushes of world-renowned artists, furnish vessels in -which the rosy, laughing face and dimpled limbs may lave. - -The Western hills have cooled the eager glance of the August sun. Lucy, -softly humming as she assorts and arranges a great basket of choice -buds and blossoms just arrived from the “Eyrie,” is seated alone in a -fantastic garden pagoda, which, trellised by climbing rose bushes, stands -within the grounds of the Dunlap estate. - -As she rocks back and forth in the low chair that is placed there for -her comfort, little gleams of sunshine sifting through the screen of -roses wander amidst her gold-brown tresses and spot the filmy gown of -white she wears with silver splashes. As the lights and shadows of the -gently swaying leaves and roses dance about her, she seems surrounded by -hosts of cherubim in frolicsome attendance on her. Some thought of that -nature came to her, for she let her hands lie still in her lap among the -blossoms and watched the ever fleeting, changeful rays of sunlight and -shade that like an April shower fell upon her. Then she smiled as at some -unseen spirit and smiling grew pensive. - -The limpid light in Lucy’s eyes, as gazing into the future she sees the -coming glory of her womanhood, is that same light that shone along the -road from Galilee to Bethlehem, when she, most blessed of women for all -time, rode humbly on an ass to place an eternal monarch on a throne. - -That light in Lucy’s pensive hazel eyes, that gentle, hopeful expectant -look on her sweet face, has, from the time that men were born on earth -subdued the fiery rage of angry braves in mortal strife engaged, has -turned brutality into cowering shame, and caused the harshest, roughest -and most savage of the human kind to smooth the brow, soften the voice -and gently move aside, rendering ready homage to a being raised higher -far than the throne of the mightiest king on earth. - -As she, who chambered with the cattle on Judah’s hills, opened the -passage from the groaning earth to realms of eternal bliss by what she -gave to men, so ever those crowned with that pellucid halo of expected -maternity stand holding ajar the gates that bar the path from man to that -mysterious source of life and soul called God. - -It is woman in her grandest glory, who draws man and his Maker near -together, with arms outstretched and hands extended she grasps man and -reaches up toward the Divine Author of our beings. - -In simplest attire and humblest station she sanctifies the spot she -stands upon. When most beset by want or danger there lives no man worthy -of the name, who could refuse to heed her lightest call. - -Oh! that wistful, yearning, hopeful, tender, loving look that -transfigured Lucy’s sweet face until resemblance came to it, to that face -that has employed the souls, hearts and hands of those most gifted by -high heaven with pen and brush. - -Out of this trance-like blissfulness the pensive dreamer was aroused by -the coming of her ever constant guardian, her grandfather, who told her -that Miss Arabella Chapman had called, bringing some offering that could -be placed in no other hand than that of the young matron. - -Away hastened Lucy to greet the time-worn maiden, but fresh-hearted -friend, and to hurry with her up to a sealed and sacred apartment, over -whose threshold no male foot must ever step, wherein was hidden heaping -trays and shelves of doll-like garments of marvelous texture and make, -articles the names of which no man ever yet has learned to call, all -so cunningly devised as to create the need of lace, embroidery or such -matter on every edge and corner. - -Silky shawls and fleecy wraps, and funny little caps of spider-spun lace, -and socks of soft stuff so small that Lucy’s tiny thumb could scarce -find room therein, all and much more than man can tell were here stored -carefully away and only shown to closest friends by the fair warder of -that holy keep. - -And, oh! the loving, jealous care of Lucy. No hand but her own could fold -these small garments just right. What awful calamity might befall should -one crease be awry or disturbed; no eye so well could note some need in -that dainty, diminutive collection of fairy underwear as hers; no breast -could beat so tenderly as hers as close she pressed, fondled and kissed -the little gowns for elfin wear. - -Who would for all the gold coined on earth rob her of one jot or tittle -of her half-girlish, all-womanly joy and jealous care? Not one who ever -whispered the word Mother! - -That night the watchman and his faithful dog who guarded the Dunlap -house and grounds, saw at the unseemly hour of two o’clock many lights -suddenly appear within the mansion. The shadow of the family physician, -white-haired and wise, flits by the windows of the room which, for some -weeks, he has occupied. Mrs. Church in wrapper, lamp in hand, hastens by -the great hall window and ascends the stairs, accompanied by an elderly -woman, who a month before came to live in the mansion. Soon a window on -the balcony is raised and Mr. James Dunlap in dressing gown and slippers -steps out, accompanied by Mr. Burton, who seems too nervous to notice Mr. -Dunlap’s soothing hand placed on his shoulder. - -Soon the bell, that warns him to open wide the outer gate, is rung, and -then the watchman and his dog see no more of the commotion within the -house. As he holds back the gate, he asks of the coachman, who, with the -dog-cart and the horse, Dark Dick, is racing by: - -“What’s the matter?” In reply he only catches the words: - -“Another nurse, d—— quick!” - -A standing order of the house of J. Dunlap was that should at any -time neither J. Dunlap nor the manager appear by the noon hour, the -superintendent, Mr. Chapman, should take cab and hasten to the residence -of Mr. James Dunlap for instructions concerning transactions that pressed -for immediate attention. - -Five minutes after noon, on the day when at two o’clock in the morning -the private watchman had seen lights appear within the Dunlap mansion. -David Chapman was seated in a cab speeding toward his employer’s -residence. - -As the cab turned the corner on the avenue that ran before the gate of -the Dunlap place, the horse’s hoof-beats were silenced. Chapman looked -out; the straw-carpeted pavement told the whole story. He ordered -the driver to stop his horse, and springing from the vehicle the -superintendent, walking, proceeded the balance of the distance. - -The vigil and anxiety of the past night had told fearfully on -well-preserved Mrs. Church, thought Chapman as he noted her drawn, white -and frightened face, and listened to the awed tone of her voice, as she -told him that a boy was born to Lucy; that she was very ill; that Mr. -Burton was troubled and wretched over the danger of his wife, and would -see no one; that Mr. Dunlap, exhausted by agony of mind and weakened by -watching, had fainted, was now lying down and must not be disturbed under -any circumstances. - -Chapman in mute amazement stared at the trembling lips that gave an -account of the striking down, within so short a time, of all three -members of the family. Speechless he stood and stared, but could find no -words to express either his surprise or sorrow. As he stood thus, a faint -and husky, yet familiar, voice called from the far end of the wide hall -that ran through the center of the house. - -“David, wait; I want you.” - -With uncertain step, and bowed head, a figure came forward. As Chapman -turned he saw that it was Mr. Dunlap. One moment the old employee gazed -at the approaching man. Then springing toward him, he cried as he caught -sight of the ashen hue on his old master’s blanched and deep-lined face, -and saw the blank look in his kind eyes: - -“You are ill, sir; sit down!” - -“Yes, David; I am not well; I am somewhat weak, but I wish to give -you certain commands that must not, as you value my friendship, be -disobeyed.” The old man paused and painfully sought to gain command of -his voice, and failing, gasped forth: - -“Send a message to my brother saying, ‘It is a boy and all is well,’ and -add—David Chapman, do you understand me?—and add these very words, ‘Do -not come home; it is unnecessary.’ Sign the message ‘James’—and, listen, -Chapman, listen; no word that I am not well or my granddaughter in danger -must reach my brother John.” - -“Your instructions shall be obeyed, sir,” and Chapman’s voice was almost -as indistinct as that of his loved master. - -“What of the business, sir, while Mr. Burton is absent?” the -ever-faithful superintendent asked. - -“Use your own discretion in everything,” and with a dry, convulsive sob -that shook his bended frame, he added in a whisper: - -“It makes no difference now.” - -David Chapman heard the sob, and caught those heartbroken words. In an -instant that strangely constituted man was on his knees at the feet of -him whom of all on earth he worshiped most. - -“Can I help you, sir, in your trouble? Say anything that man can do, and -I shall do it, sir,” cried Chapman piteously. - -“No, David, no; but, David, I thank you. Go, my faithful old friend, and -do what I have requested.” - -Chapman arose and pressed the wan hand that James Dunlap extended, then -hurried from the house. - -Those who saw the superintendent that day wondered why they were unable -to tell whether it was grief or rage that marked the man’s face so deeply. - -The message as dictated was sent that day to Haiti. - - - - -XII. - - -By special concession from the Haitian government, the blacks still -maintaining a prejudice against white people owning real estate in Haiti, -John Dunlap had purchased several acres of land lying in the outskirts of -Port au Prince, and had built a commodious house thereon, constructed in -accordance with the requirements of the warm climate of the island. - -To-night with impatient manner he is walking up and down the veranda -which surrounds the house, accompanied by Captain Jack Dunlap, to whom he -says: - -“I do not like the monotonous sentence that, without change, has come -to me daily for two weeks past. It is not like my brother James, and -something, that I cannot explain, tells me that all is not well at home -in Boston.” - -“Don’t you think that this presentiment is only the result of anxiety; -that you are permitting imaginary evils to disturb you, sir?” put in Jack -respectfully. - -“No, Jack, I do not. From boyhood there has existed an indescribable bond -of sympathy between my brother and myself that has always conveyed to -each of us, no matter how far apart, a feeling of anxiety if trouble or -danger threatened either one. For days this feeling has been increasing -upon me, until it now has become unbearable. I regret that I did not take -passage on the steamer that sailed today for New York. Now I must wait a -week.” As Mr. Dunlap came to the end of his sentence, a chanting, croning -kind of sound was heard coming from some spot just beyond the wall around -his place. - -“Confound that old hag!” cried the impatient old gentleman, as he heard -the first notes of the weird incantation, “for the last month, night and -day, she has been haunting my premises, wailing out some everlasting -song about Tu Konk, white cows, black kids, and such stuff, all in that -infernal jargon of the mountain blacks. She looks more like the devil -than anything else. I tried to bribe her to go away, but the old witch -only laughed in my face. I then ordered her driven away, but the servants -are all afraid of her and can’t be induced to molest her.” - -“She probably is only some half-witted old woman, whom the superstitious -negroes suppose possessed of supernatural power. I don’t think the matter -worthy of your notice,” said Jack. - -“I suppose it is foolish, but her hanging about my place just now, makes -me nervous; but never mind the hag at present. I was going to say to you, -when that howling stopped me, that so strong has become my feeling of -apprehension within the last few hours that could I do so, I should leave -Port au Prince tonight and hurry straight to Boston and my brother. This -cursed Haitian loan, for which the English and American bankers hold our -house morally, if not legally, responsible, has held me in Haiti this -late in the hot season, and, tonight, I would gladly assume the entire -obligation legally, to be placed instantly on Boston Common.” - -The positiveness and seriousness with which his kinsman spoke caused even -Jack’s steady nerves to become somewhat shaken. Just then footsteps were -heard coming rapidly up the walk that led to the roadway. As the two -Dunlaps reached the top step of the veranda a telegraph messenger sprang -up the stairs and handed an envelope to Mr. John Dunlap. With trembling -fingers he opened the paper and going to a lamp that hung in the hallway -read it. Then with a cry of pain he would have fallen to the floor had -not Jack’s strong arms been around him. - -“I knew it, I knew it,” he moaned. - -Jack took the message from the cold, numb hand of the grief-stricken man -and read: - -“Come immediately; your brother dying, Lucy in great danger. David -Chapman.” - -Jack almost carried the groaning old man to a couch that stood in the -hall, placing him upon it he hurried to the side-board in the dinner-room -for a glass of wine or water; when he returned he found Mr. Dunlap -sitting up, with his face hidden in his hands, rocking back and forward -murmuring. - -“A million dollars for a steamer; yea! all I am worth for a ship to carry -me to Boston! Oh! Brother, Brother!” - -Jack, though stricken to the heart by what the message said, still held -firm grip upon his self-command for the sake of the kind old man before -him. When he heard the muttered words of his suffering friend, for one -instant he stood as if suddenly struck by some helpful idea, then cried, - -“You have the fastest sailing ship on the Atlantic, Cousin John. The -‘Adams’ has only half a cargo aboard. She can beat any steamer that sails -from Haiti to America, if there be breeze but sufficient to fill her -canvas. My crew is aboard. Within one hour my water casks can be filled, -the anchor up, the bow-sprit pointing to Boston, and, God send the wind, -we’ll see the Boston lights as soon as any steamer could show them to us, -or I’ll tear the masts out of the ‘Adams’ trying.” - -Like the revivifying effect of an electric shock, the words of the seaman -sent new life into John Dunlap. He sprang to his feet, grabbed for a -hat and coat lying on the hall-table and, ere Jack realized what was -happening, was racing down the pathway, leading to the road, calling -back: - -“Come on, my lad, come on!” - -Soon Jack was by the old man’s side, passing his arm through that of his -godfather, and thus helping him forward, their race toward the water was -continued. - -Not one word was said to the house-servants. The Dunlaps saw no one -before they dashed from the premises; no, not even the evil, flashing -eyes of the old black hag, who, listening to what they said, peered at -them through the low window case. - -“Mr. Brice, call all hands aft,” commanded Captain Dunlap as he stepped -upon the deck of his ship, half an hour after leaving the house of Mr. -Dunlap in Port au Prince. - -“Men,” said the skipper, when the astonished crew had gathered at the -mast and were waiting. - -“Most of you have sailed with me for months, and know I ‘crack on’ every -sail my ship can carry at all times. Now, listen well to what I say. -This old gentleman at my side, my kinsman and friend, and I have those -in Boston whom we love, and we have learned tonight that one of them is -dying and one is in danger. We must reach Boston at the earliest moment -possible. Within the hour I’ll heave my anchor up and sail, such carrying -of sail, in weather fair or foul, no sailor yet has seen as I shall do. -My masts may go. I’ll take the chance of tearing them out of the ship -if I can but gain one hour. No man must sail with me in this wild race -unwillingly or unaware of what I intend to do. Therefore, from mate to -cabin-boy, let him who is unwilling to share the perils of this trip step -forward, take his wages and go over the side into the small boat that -lies beside the ship.” - -The skipper Stopped speaking and waited; for some seconds there was a -scuffling of bare feet and shoving among the knot of seamen, but no man -said aught nor did any one step forward. At last the impatient master -cried out, - -“Well, what’s it to be! Can no man among you find his tongue?” - -Then came more shuffling and shoving and half audible exclamations of -“Say it yourself!” “Why don’t you answer the skipper?” Finally old Brice -moved around from behind the captain and stood between him and the men. -Then addressing the master but looking at the crew, he said, - -“I think, sir, the men wish to say, that they are Yankee sailors, and see -you and Mr. Dunlap half scuttled by your sorrow and that they will stick -by you, and be d——n to the sail you carry! Is that it, men?” - -A hoarse hurrah answered the first officer’s question. - -“The mate says right enough; we’ll stick to the ship and skipper,” came -in chorus from the brazen lungs of the crew. - -Such scampering about the deck was never seen before on board the “Adams” -as that of the next thirty minutes. When the crew manned the capstan and -began hoisting the anchor a strange black bundle, with gleaming eyes, -came tumbling over the bow. The startled crew sprang away from what they -took to be a huge snake, but seeing, when it gathered itself together and -stood upright, that it was an old witch of a black woman, they bawled out -for the mate. - -The old termagant fought like a wild-cat, scratching and tearing at the -eyes of the men as they bundled her over the ship’s side and into the -canoe in which she had come from the shore. All the time the hag was -raving, spitting and swearing by all kinds of heathenish divinities that -she would go to Boston to see “my grandchild,” and muttering all sorts of -imprecations and incantations, in the jargon of the West Indies, upon the -heads of all who attempted to prevent her. - -As the ship gathered headway and swung around, Mr. John Dunlap, who -stood in the stern, heard a weird chant, which he recognized as coming -from below him. He looked over the railing and saw old Sybella standing -upright in the canoe in which she had been thrust by the crew, waving her -skinny bare arms, and chanting, - - “Tu Konk, the great one - Send her the Black Goat - White cow, Black kid - White teat, Black mouth - Tu Konk, Oh, Tu Konk - Black Blood, Oh, Tu Konk - Call back, Oh! Tu Konk.” - -When Sybella saw Mr. Dunlap she ceased her song, and began hurling savage -and barbarous curses upon him and his, which continued until the tortured -old gentleman could neither hear nor see the crone longer. - -There was just enough cargo aboard the “Adams” to steady her and give -her the proper trim. As soon as Jack secured enough offing, in sailors’ -parlance he “cut her loose.” Everything in shape of sail that could draw -was set, the skipper took the deck nor did he leave it again until he -sprang into a yawl in Boston harbor. - -On the second day out from Port au Prince, the wind increased to the fury -of a gale, but still no stitch of cloth was taken from the straining -masts and yards of the “Adams.” Two stalwart sailors struggled with the -wheel, the muscles of their bared and sinewy arms standing out taut, as -toughened steel. The ship pitched and leaped like a thing of life. The -masts sprang before the gale as if in their anguish they would jump clear -out of the ship. - -With steady, hard set eyes, the skipper watched each movement of his -ship. He knew her every motion as huntsman knows the action of his -well-trained hound. His jaws were locked, the square, firm, Anglo-Saxon -chin might have been modeled out of granite, so rock-like did it look. -Away goes a sail, blown into fragments that wildly flap against the yard. -Will the skipper ease her now? - -Old Brice looked toward the master, saw something in his eyes, and saw -him shake his head— - -“Lay along here to clear up the muss, and set another sail!” bawled -Brice, and again he looked toward the skipper; this time Jack nodded. - -Brave old John Dunlap scarcely ever left the deck. He had a sailor’s -heart and he had mingled with those of the sea from babyhood. He saw the -danger and going to his namesake, said, - -“Carry all she’ll bear Jack. If you lose the ship, I’ll give you ten; get -me to Boston quickly, lad, or wreck the ship.” - -“I will,” was all the answer that came from Jack’s tightly pressed lips, -nor did he change his gaze from straight ahead while answering—yet the -old man knew that Jack would make his promise good. - -He, who in the hollow of His hand doth hold the sea, knew of their need -and favoring the object of such speed, did send unto that ship safety -through the storm and favoring winds thereafter. - -No yacht, though for speed alone designed, ever made such time, or ever -will, or ever can, as made the good ship “Adams” from Port au Prince to -Boston harbor. - - * * * * * - -During the two weeks that succeeded the birth of Lucy’s baby, her -grandfather never left the house, but like some wandering spirit of -unrest, moved silently but constantly, in slippered feet, from room to -room, up and down the broad flight of stairs, and back and forth through -the halls. - -Maids and serving men stepped aside when they saw the bent and faltering -figure approaching; James Dunlap had aged more within two weeks than -during any ten years of his life before. His kind and beaming eyes of -but yesterday had lost all save the look of troubled age and weariness. -The ruddy glow bequeathed by temperate youth had vanished from his -countenance in that short time, as mist beneath the rays of the rising -sun. The strong elastic step of seasoned strength had given place to the -shambling gait of aged pantaloon. - -Burton in moody silence kept his room, or venturing out was seen a -changed and altered man, with blood-shot eyes, as if from endless tears, -and haggard, desperate face deeply traced by lines of trouble’s trenches -dug by grief. - -Mrs. Church, the physician, nurse and even the buxom black woman, who -came to give suck to the babe, all, seemed awe struck, distraught, as if -affrighted by some ghostly, awful thing that they had seen. - -And then, too, all seemed to hold some strange, mysterious secret in -common, that in some ways was connected with the recently arrived heir -to the Dunlap proud name and many millions. The frightened conspirators -held so sacred the apartments blessed by the presence of the Dunlap heir, -that none but themselves might enter it, or even, in loyal love for all -who bear their old master’s name, see the babe. One poor maid in loving, -eager curiosity had ventured to peep into the sacred shrine and when -discovered, though she had seen naught of the child, was quickly driven -from the house and lost her cherished employment. - -Lucy Burton from the first hour after the birth of the child was very -ill. For two whole days she hovered, hesitatingly, between life and -death, most of the time entirely unconscious or when not so in a kind of -stupor. But finally, after two days of anxious watching, the physician -and Mrs. Church noticed a change. Lucy opened her eyes and feebly felt -beside her as if seeking something, and finding not what she sought, -weakly motioned Mrs. Church to bend her head down that she might whisper -something in her ear. As her old friend bent over her, she whispered -softly, - -“My baby, bring it.” - -Mrs. Church’s face became so piteous as she turned her appealing eyes -toward the Doctor that, that good man arose and coming to the bedside -took Lucy’s soft white hand in his. He had known her as an infant, and -guessing from Mrs. Church’s face what Lucy wished, he said, - -“Not yet, dear child, you are too ill and weak, and the excitement might -be dangerous in your condition.” - -But Lucy would listen no longer; she shook her head and cried out quite -audibly: - -“Bring me my baby! I want to see it. Every mother wishes to see her -baby.” Tears came rolling from her sweet eyes. - -“But child, the baby boy is not well and to bring him to you might cause -serious conditions to arise.” - -Well did that Doctor know the mother heart. How ready that heart ever -is to suffer and to bleed that the off-spring may be shielded from some -danger or a single pang. - -“I can wait; don’t bring my darling if it will do him harm. A boy! A boy! -My boy! I’ll wait, but where is Walter?” - -The Doctor told the nurse to summon Mr. Burton, but cautioned Lucy not to -excite or agitate herself as she had been quite ill. - -Let him who has seen the look on the condemned felon’s face, when the -poor wretch gazes on the knife within the guillotine, recall that look. -Let him who has seen the last wild, desperate glance of a drowning man, -recall that look, and mingle with these the look of Love at side of -Hope’s death-bed, and thus find the look on Burton’s face when he entered -his wife’s bedroom. - -With arms outstretched she called to the faltering man, - -“Walter, it is a boy! My baby! Your baby! My husband!” - -The man fell, he did not drop, upon his knees by the bedside and burying -his face in the covering wept bitterly. He took her hands, kissed them, -and wet them with his tears. - -“Oh! Don’t weep so, darling. I will soon be well, and Oh! my husband we -have a precious baby boy.” Then she said, as if in the joy of knowing -that her baby was a boy, she had forgotten all else, - -“Tell grandfather to come here. Tell him the boy shall bear his name.” - -The Doctor went himself to bring her grandfather to her. She never -noticed that strange fact. - -James Dunlap, never had you in your seventy-three years of life more need -of strength of mind than now! - -Her grandfather came to her leaning heavily upon the Doctor’s arm. He -bent and kissed her brow, and in so doing dropped a tear upon her cheek. -Quickly she looked up and seeing pain and grief in the white face above -her, she started and in the alarmed voice of a little child, she cried, - -“Am I going to die? Are you all so pale and weep because I am dying? Tell -me Doctor! Why Mamma Church is crying too.” - -She so had called Mrs. Church when a wee maid and sometimes did so still. - -The Doctor seeing that she was flushed and greatly excited hastened to -the bedside and said calmly but most earnestly, - -“No, my dear. You will not die, they are not weeping for that reason, but -you have been very ill and we all love you so much that we weep from -sympathy for you, my dear. Now please lie down. You must my child, and -all must leave the room but nurse and me,” and speaking thus, he gently -pressed the gold-brown head back on the pillows and urged all to leave -the room immediately. - -That night the nurse and Doctor heard the patient often murmur both while -awake and while she slept, - -“My baby, my baby, it’s a boy, my baby.” - -For two or three days after this night Lucy was quite ill again. Her mind -seemed wandering all along the path of her former life, but always the -all over-shadowing subject in all the wanderings of her thoughts was, “My -baby,” “My baby.” Sometimes she called for Jack saying, “Come Jack, and -see my baby,” and then for her uncle, laughing in her sleep and saying -“See, Uncle John, I’ve brought into the world a boy, my baby.” - -When the fever again abated and once more she became conscious her first -words were “My baby, bring it now.” - -For several days the mental resources of the nurse, Doctor and Mrs. -Church were taxed to their utmost in finding excuses for the absence of -the baby. He was not well. He was asleep, she was not well enough and -many other things they told her as reasons for not bringing her baby to -her. - -But, Oh! the piteous pleading in her voice and eyes, as with quivering -lips and fluttering hands extended toward them she would beg, - -“Please bring my baby to me. Every mother wishes to see her baby, to -press it to her breast, to feel its breath upon her cheek, to hold it to -her heart; Oh! Please bring my darling to me.” - -Poor Mrs. Church, no martyr ever suffered more than did that -tender-hearted woman, who loved Lucy with a mother’s heart. - -The Doctor, when he had reassured and quieted, for a little while, his -patient, would leave the room and standing in the hall would wring his -hands and groan, as if in mortal agony. - -One night when Lucy seemed more restful than usual, and was slumbering, -worn out by emotion and watching, the Doctor, lying on a couch in the -hall, fell fast asleep. The nurse, seeing all about her resting, her -charge peacefully and regularly, first became drowsy, nodded and then -slept. - -The gold-brown head was raised cautiously from its pillows, the hazel -eyes wide opened looked about, and seeing that the nurse was sleeping and -that no one was looking, then two little white feet slipped stealthily -from beneath the coverlet, the slim figure rose, left the bed and glided -along the well remembered passage that led from her chamber to that bower -of beauty made for her baby. As she, weak and trembling, stole along, she -smiled and whispered to herself: - -“I will see my baby! I will hold him in my arms, I am his own mother.” - -In the room, that with loving, hopeful hands she had helped to decorate, -the faintest flame gave dim, uncertain light, yet quick she reached the -silver shell-like crib and feeling found no baby there. Hearing a steady, -loud breathing of some one asleep and seeing the indistinct outline -of a bed in one corner of the room, she softly crept to its side and -feeling gently with her soft hands found a tiny figure reposing beside -the snoring sleeper. To gather the baby to the warm breast wherein her -longing, loving heart was beating wildly was the work of only an instant. - -With her babe clutched close to her, she opened her gown and laid its -little head against her soft and snowy bosom, then she stole back, -carrying her treasure to her own chamber. - -Like child that she was, women have much of childish feeling ever in -them. In girlish happiness she closed her eyes and felt her way to the -gas-light, and turned it up full blast, laughing to herself and saying as -she uncovered the baby’s face, - -“I won’t peep. I’ll see my baby’s beauty all at once.” - -She opened her eyes and looked! - -Now, Oh! Mother of the Lord look down! Oh! Christ, who hanging on His -cross for the thief could pity feel, have pity now! - -The thing she held upon her milk white breast was Black—Black with -hideous, misshapen head receding to a point; with staring, rolling eyes -of white set in its inky skin; and features of an apish cast, increased -the horror of the thing. - -My God! That shriek! It pealed through chamber, dome and hall. Again, -again it rang like scream of tortured soul in hell. It roused the horses -in the barn, they neighed in terror, stamped upon the floor and struggled -to be free. The doves in fright forsook their cot. The dogs began to -bark. Yet high above all other sound, that wild, loud scream rang out. - -When the nurse sprang up she dared not move so wild were Lucy’s eyes. The -Doctor, Burton, her grandfather found her standing, hair unbound, glaring -wildly at what crying, lay on the floor. - -“Away, you thieves!” she screamed, and motioned to the door. - -“You have robbed me of my babe, and left that in its stead.” She pointed -at the object on the floor. - -Her grandfather pallid, tottering, moved toward her. - -“Back, old man, back! You stole my child away,” she yelled, her blazing -eyes filled with insane rage and hate. - -“My God! She is mad,” the Doctor cried, and rushing forward caught her as -she fell. - -“Thank God! She has fainted; help me place her on the bed.” - -Burton, petrified by the awfulness of the scene had until that moment -stood like some ghastly, reeling statue, now in an automatic manner he -came forward and helped the Doctor place her on the bed. - -“Look to Mr. Dunlap,” cried the Doctor but ere anyone could reach him the -old man fell forward, crashing on the floor; a stroke of paralysis had -deadened and benumbed his whole right side. - -Chapman was told next day that James Dunlap was dying. Then, for the -first and only time in the life of David Chapman, he disobeyed an order -given by a Dunlap and sent the message to Haiti. - - - - -XIII. - - -“The pilot is mad,” cried one old tar; and said, - -“The master is drunk, or there’s mutiny aboard that ship.” - -Thus spoke among themselves a knot of seafaring men who stood on the -Boston docks watching a ship under almost full sail, that came tearing -before a strong north-east gale into Boston’s crowded harbor. - -The man who held the wheel and guided the ship through the lanes of -sail-less vessels anchored in the harbor, as a skillful driver does his -team in crowded streets, was neither mad nor drunk nor was there mutiny -among the crew. The man was Jack Dunlap; the ship was the “Adams.” - -Jack knew the harbor, as does the dog its kennel. He held a pilot’s -certificate and waiving assistance steered his ship himself in this mad -race with time, that no moment should be lost by lowering sails until the -anchor dropped in Massachusetts sand. - -The crew was ready at the sheets and running gear. Each man at his -station and all attention. Old Brice in the waist stood watching the -skipper ready to pass the word, to “let all go;” Morgan, the second mate, -at the boat davits held the tackle to lower away the yawl the instant the -ship “came round.” - -The skipper at the wheel, stood steady, firm and sure, as though chiseled -from hardest rock. He never shifted his blood-shot eyes from straight -ahead. His strong, determined face, colorless beneath the tan, never -relaxed a line of the intensity that stamped it with sharp angles. The -skipper had not closed his eyes in sleep since leaving Port au Prince nor -had he left the deck for a single hour. - -“Let go all!” the helmsman called and Brice repeated the order. The ship -flew around, like a startled stag and then came, - -“Let go the anchor! Lower away on that boat tackle! Come, Cousin John, -we are opposite Dunlap’s docks. This is Boston harbor, thank God!” So -called Jack Dunlap, springing toward the descending small boat that had -hung at the davits, and dragging the no-way backward old gentleman, John -Dunlap, along with him. - -The only moment lost in Port au Prince before the “Adams” sailed was to -arouse the operator and send a message to Chapman saying that John Dunlap -had left in the “Adams” and was on his way to Boston and his brother’s -bedside. - -When the red ball barred with black streaming from the masthead announced -that a Dunlap ship was entering the port, the information was sent at -once to the city, and an anxious, thin and sorrowing man gave an order -to the driver of the fastest team in the Dunlap stables, to hasten to -Dunlap’s wharf and sprang into the carriage. - -The impatient, scrawny figure of David Chapman caught the eyes of the -two passengers in the yawl, as with lusty strokes the sailors at the -oars urged the small boat toward the steps of the dock. Chapman in his -excitement fairly raced up and down the dock waving his hands toward the -approaching boat. - -“He still lives!” he shouted when they could hear him, instinctively -knowing that, that question was first in the minds of those nearing the -wharf. - -“And Lucy?” said Jack huskily, as he stepped on the dock and grasped -Chapman’s extended hand. Old John Dunlap had said never a word nor looked -right nor left, but springing up the steps with extraordinary agility in -one of his age, had run directly to the waiting carriage. - -“Alive but better dead,” was all that the superintendent could find -breath to say as he ran beside Jack toward the carriage and leaped in. - -“Stop for nothing; put the horses to a gallop,” commanded Mr. Dunlap, -leaning out of the carriage window and addressing the coachman as he -wheeled his horses around and turned upon the street. - -It was at an early hour on Sunday morning when the Dunlaps landed and the -streets were freed from the week day traffic and the number of vehicles -that usually crowded them. - -As the swaying carriage dashed along, Chapman was unable to make the -recently arrived men understand more than that Lucy had suddenly -become deranged as a result of her illness, and that this appalling -circumstance, in connection with his idolized granddaughter’s severe -sickness had produced a paralytic stroke, that had rendered powerless the -entire right side of James Dunlap’s body; that his vitality was so low -and his whole constitution seemed so shaken and undermined by the events -of the last few weeks, that the physicians despaired of his life. - -As the foaming horses were halted before the entrance of the Dunlap -mansion, Mr. John Dunlap jumped from the still swaying vehicle and ran -up the steps, heedless of Mrs. Church and the servants in the hall, he -rushed straight to the well remembered room where, as boys, he and his -brother had slept, and which was still the bed-chamber occupied by Mr. -James Dunlap. - -John Dunlap opened the door and for a moment faltered on the threshold; -then that voice he loved so well called out, - -“Is that my brother John?” The stricken man had recognized his brother’s -footsteps. - -An instant more and John Dunlap had thrown himself across the bed and -his arms were around his brother; for several minutes those two hearts, -which in unison had beaten since first the life-blood pulsated through -them, were pressed together. James Dunlap’s left hand weakly patting his -brother. - -David Chapman had followed, close upon the heels of John Dunlap and -was crouching at the bottom of the bed, with his face hidden by the -bed-clothing that covered his old master’s feet, and was silently -sobbing. When Jack Dunlap entered the hall good Mrs. Church, who had been -a second mother to him while he lived at the Dunlap house in his school -boy days, ran to him and throwing her arms about his neck fell upon his -broad breast, weeping and crying, - -“My boy is home! Thank God for sending you, Jack. We have suffered so, -and needed you so much, my boy!” - -When the sailor man had succeeded in pacifying the distressed old -housekeeper and disengaged himself from her embrace, he hastened after -Chapman. As he entered the room and stepped near the bed he heard a -feeble voice which he scarcely recognized as that of Mr. James Dunlap, -say, - -“It is all my fault John. You, brother, tried to prevent it. I alone am -to blame. I have driven my darling mad and I believe that it will kill -her. I did it Oh God! I did it. Blame no one John; be kind, punish no -one, my brother. I alone am at fault.” - -These words came with the force of a terrible blow to Jack Dunlap, and -halted him in mute and motionless wonder where he was. - -“James, don’t talk that way. I can’t stand it, brother. Whatever you have -done, I know not, and care not, it is noble, just and right and I stand -with you, brother, in whatsoever it may be,” said John Dunlap in a broken -but energetic voice. - -“Has no one told you then, John?” came faintly from the partially -paralyzed lips of him who lay upon the bed. - -“Told me what? Brother James; but no matter what they have to tell, you -are not blamable as you say; I stand by that.” - -Though the voice was husky, there was a challenge in the tone that said, -let no man dare attack my brother. The innate chivalry of the old New -Englander was superior even to his sorrow. - -“Who is in the room beside you, John?” asked James Dunlap, anxious -that something he had to say should not be heard by other than the -trustworthy, and unable to move his head to ascertain. - -“No one, James, but our kinsman, Jack Dunlap, and faithful David -Chapman,” replied his brother. - -The palsied man struggled with some powerful emotion, and by the greatest -effort was only able to utter in a whisper the words, - -“Lucy’s baby is black and impish. The negro blood in Burton caused the -breeding back to a remote ancestor, as, John, you warned me might be the -case. It has driven my granddaughter insane and will cause her death. God -have mercy on me!” The effort and emotion was too much for the weak old -gentleman; his head fell to one side; he had fainted. - -John Dunlap started when he heard these direful words. A look of horror -on his face, but brotherly love stronger than all else caused him to put -aside every thought and endeavor to resuscitate the unconscious man. - -Poor Jack. He had borne manfully much heartache, but the dreadful thing -that he had just heard was too much for even his iron will and nerves. He -collapsed as if a dagger had pierced his heart, and would have fallen to -the floor had he not gripped the bedstead when his legs gave way. - -Chapman raised his head and gazed, with eyes red from weeping, at him -who told the calamitous story of the events that had stricken him down. -There was a dangerous glitter in the red eyes as Chapman sprung to John -Dunlap’s assistance in reviving the senseless man. - -When Jack recovered self-command sufficient to realize what was happening -about him, he found that the physician, who had been summoned, had -administered restoratives and stimulants, and that the patient had -returned to consciousness; that the kind Doctor was trying to comfort the -heartbroken brother of the sufferer even while obliged to admit that the -end of life for James Dunlap was not far distant. - -“Come and get in my bed, Jack,” came in a low and indistinct voice from -the couch of the helpless patient. Captain Dunlap started in surprise, -but old John Dunlap made a motion with his hand and said in a voice -choking with emotion, - -“He always so called me when we were boys,” and lying down by his brother -he put his arms lovingly and protectingly around him. - -Thus the two old men lay side by side as they had done years before in -their cradle. The silence remained for a long time unbroken, save for the -muffled sobs that came from those who watched and grieved in the chamber. - -“How cold it is, Jack, come closer; I’m cold. I broke through the ice -today and got wet but don’t tell mother, she will worry. Jack, don’t tell -on me.” The words were whispered to his brother by the dying man. - -“No, Jim, I’ll not tell, old fellow,” bravely answered John Dunlap, but -a smothered sob shook his shoulders. He knew his brother’s mind was -straying back into the days of their boyhood. - -For what inscrutable cause does the mind of the most aged recur to scenes -and associations of childhood when Death, the dread conqueror, draws -near? Why does the most patriarchal prattle as though still at the mother -knee in that last and saddest hour? Is it because mother, child, in -purity approach nearest to that transcendent pellucidity that surrounds -the throne of Him before whom all must appear? Does the nearness of the -coming hour cast its shadow on the soul, causing it to return to the -period of greatest innocence, and that love that is purest on earth? - -“Jack, hold me, I am slipping, I am going, going, Jack.” - -Alas! James Dunlap had gone on that long, last journey! The noble, kindly -soul had gone to its God. John Dunlap held in his arms the pulseless form -of him who for seventy-three years had been his second self, and whom he -had loved with a devotedness seldom seen in this selfish world of ours. - -To see a strong man weep is painful; to hear him sob is dreadful; but to -listen and look upon the sorrow of a strong and aged man is heartbreaking -and will cause sympathetic tears to flow from eyes of all who are not -flinty-hearted. - -Chapman, when he knew the end had come, clasped the cold feet of his old -employer and wept bitterly; Jack could bear no more. With bursting heart -he fled from the room, but kept the chamber sacred from intrusion, and in -the sole possession of the two old men who sorrowed there. - -The funeral of James Dunlap was attended by the foremost citizens of that -section of the United States, where for so many years he had justly held -a position of honor and prominence. - -The universal gloom and hush that was observable throughout the city of -Boston on the day that the sorrowful cortege followed all that remained -earthly of this esteemed citizen, gave greater evidence of universal -grief than words or weeping could have done. - -While James Dunlap had never held any civic or political position, his -broad charity, unostentatious generosity, kindliness of spirit, constant -thoughtfulness of his fellow men, and the unassuming gentleness of his -lovable disposition and character, gave him an undisputed high place in -the hearts of his fellow citizens of both lofty and lowly condition. - -The chief executive of his native state, jurists, scholars, and -capitalists gathered with rough, weather beaten seafaring men, clerks and -laborers to listen to the final prayer offered up, to Him above, at the -old family vault of the Dunlaps beneath the sighing willow trees. - - * * * * * - -Haggard and worn by the emotions that had wrenched his very soul for the -past two or three weeks, David Chapman dragged himself to the tea-table -where his sister waited on the evening of the day of the funeral -ceremonies. - -With the fidelity of a faithful, loving dog he had held a position during -all of many nights at the feet of him who in life had been his object -of paramount devotion; during those days with unswerving faithfulness -to the house of “J. Dunlap,” he was found leaden hued and worn, but -still attentive, at his desk in the office. The great business must not -suffer, thought the man, even if I drop dead from exhaustion. Neither -John Dunlap nor Walter Burton was in a condition, nor could they force -themselves, to attend to the business of the house no matter how urgent -the need might be. - -When the business of the day ended, Chapman hastened to the Dunlap -mansion, and like a ghostly shadow glided to his position at the feet of -his old employer, speaking to no one and no one saying him nay—it seemed -the sad watcher’s right. - -As David Chapman dropped into a chair at the tea-table, the anxious and -sympathetic sister said, - -“Brother, you really must take some rest. Indeed you must, David, now -that all is over.” - -“Yes, Arabella, I feel utterly exhausted and shall rest.” - -The man’s condition was pitiable; his words came from his throat with the -dry, rasping sound of a file working on hardest steel. - -“What a God-send Jack Dunlap is at this time, sister. He has taken charge -of everything, and in that steady, confident, masterful way of his has -brought order out of the chaos that existed at the mansion. It may be -the training and habits acquired at sea, but no matter what it is the -transformation in the affairs at the house is wonderful. His decisive -manner of directing everything and everybody and the correctness and -promptness with which all people and things are disposed of by him is -phenomenal. I thank Providence for the relief that Jack’s coming has -brought.” - -The total exhaustion of Chapman’s intense energy was best exhibited in -the satisfaction he felt at having some one to assist him even in the -affairs of the Dunlaps. - -“Jack is one of the best and strongest minded men in the world. While -I know that his heart is bleeding for all, especially for Lucy, he has -maintained a self-control that is superb,” said the spinster. - -“When he learned that Lucy’s hallucination led her to believe that -the old family physician had conspired to deprive her of her baby, he -promptly procured the attendance of another doctor, saying positively, -‘Lucy’s mind must not be disturbed by sight of anything or person tending -to aggravate her mental disorder.’ He forbade Mrs. Church going into -Lucy’s apartments, dismissed the nurse and procured a new one, had that -accursed infant put with his nurse into other apartments and did it all -so firmly and quietly that no one dreamed of disputing any order given by -him,” said David wearily, but evidently much relieved with the changes -made by Jack. - -“What of Lucy? How is she?” anxiously questioned Arabella. - -“Her mental faculties are totally disarranged. She has not spoken -coherently since she fell senseless on that dreadful night and was -carried to her bed. Besides, her physical condition is precarious in the -extreme,” replied the brother. - -“Has Jack seen her yet?” inquired the old maid sadly. - -“Yes, and it is very strange how rational she became as soon as she saw -him enter the room. You know, Arabella, the steady, earnest, matter of -fact manner he has. Well, he walked into her room with just that manner, -they say he stopped to steady himself before going in, and said ‘How are -you, Cousin Lucy? I’ve come home to see you,’ and without a quiver took -her extended hands and pressed them to his breast. - -“Lucy knew him at once when he stepped inside the door. She looked -intently at him, then gave a glad, joyful cry and held out her hands, -calling, ‘Jack, Oh Jack! Come to me, my champion! Now all will be well.’ -Then she put her weak, white arms about his neck and began to weep as she -sobbed out, ‘Jack, I have needed you. You said you would come from the -end of the earth to me. I knew you would come; Jack, they have stolen my -angel boy, my baby. Jack, find it, bring it to me. I know you can. You -said until death you would love me, Jack. Oh! find my baby, my darling.’” - -“Poor Lucy! Poor Jack!” broke in the old lady, as tears of pity ran down -her withered cheek. - -“But think of the strength of the man, Arabella. You and I know what -he was suffering. Yet he answered with never a waver in his voice, -‘All right, little cousin, I am here and no harm shall come to you. -I’ll help you, but you must be a good little girl and stay quiet and -get well. Shall I have my mother come to sit with you?’ She cried out -at once, ‘Please do, Jack, Cousin Martha did not steal my baby,’ and -then he insisted that she put her head back on the pillow and close her -eyes. When she did so Jack had the courage to sit on the bedside and -sing softly some old song about the sea that they had sung together when -children. The poor girl fell fast asleep as he sung, but still clung to -Jack’s brown hand.” - -Chapman gave a groan when he finished as if the harrowing scene was -before him. - -“Blessings on the stout hearted boy,” whimpered the old lady. - -“Lucy never calls, as formerly, for her grandfather or husband. In -fact, when Burton entered her room after that awful night she flew -into a perfect frenzy, accusing him of stealing her child and putting -some imp that, at some time, she had seen in Florida, in his place, -notwithstanding his protestations and entreaties. Her mad fury increased -to such a degree that the doctor insisted that Burton should leave the -room, and has forbidden him to again visit his wife until there is a -change in her mental condition. Of course, Lucy knows nothing of the -death of her grandfather.” The man’s voice became choked as he uttered -the last sentence. - -“Have Jack and Mr. Burton been together since Jack’s return?” inquired -Arabella, after a long silence. - -“I think not, except once when they were closeted in the library for two -hours the day after Jack arrived. When they came out I was in the hall -and heard Jack say, as he left the library with Burton, ‘I shall hold -you to your promise. You must wait until my cousin be in a condition of -mind to express her wishes in that matter.’ Jack’s voice was firm and -emphatic and his face was very stern. Burton replied, ‘I gave you my word -of honor.’ He seemed in great distress and mental anguish. My opinion -is that he had proposed disappearing forever, and I think so for the -reason that he had asked me to dispose of a great amount of his personal -securities, and to bring him currency for the proceeds in bills of large -denomination, and Jack must have objected,” rejoined Chapman. - -“I am sorry for Mr. Burton and am glad Jack would not let him go away,” -said the kind spinster. - -“Well I am not,” cried Chapman savagely, notwithstanding his fatigue. - -“They would better let him go. This misfortune is the physical one that -long ago I told you was possible. The next may be spiritual and result in -some emotional or fanatic outburst of barbarous religious fervor that may -again disgrace us all. Then may develop the bestial propensities of the -sensual nature of savages and may result in crime and ruin the house of -Dunlap forever.” - -“David, go to bed and rest. You are worn out and conjure up imaginary -horrors purely by reason of nervousness and weariness,” said the sister -soothingly. - -“You maintained months ago that the danger of breeding back was -imaginary. What do you think now? The other things that I suggest as -possible, are inherent in Burton’s blood and may tell their story yet.” - -Chapman, though weak, became vehement immediately upon the mention of -this unfortunate subject. It required all the persuasion and diplomacy -of his good sister to get him to desist and finally to retire to his bed -room for the rest that was so needed by the worn out man. - - - - -XIV. - - -“You have been a tower of strength to me, Jack, in the grief and trouble -of the last three months. I don’t know what would have become of us all -without your aid and comfort.” - -So spoke Mr. John Dunlap. He appeared many years older than he did when -three months before he arrived in Boston on board the “Adams.” He was -bent, and care worn. Deep sorrow had taken the fire and mirth from his -honest, kindly eyes. - -“I am rejoiced and repaid if I have been able to be of service to those -whom I love, and who have always been so kind to me,” replied Jack Dunlap -simply. - -The two men were seated in the library of the Dunlap mansion in the -closing hour of that late November day, watching the heavy snow flakes -falling without. - -“Jack, I have meditated for several days upon what I am about to say and -can find no way but to beg you to make more sacrifices for us,” said the -old gentleman, after a lapse of several minutes. - -“The condition in which our family is demands the presence of some -younger, stronger head and hand than mine is now. I know the ‘Adams’ is -refitted, after her two years of service, and ready for sea. I know you, -my lad, and your reluctance to remain idle when you think that you should -be at work.” - -“To be frank, sir, you have hit upon a subject about which I desired to -talk with you but have hesitated for several days,” said the young man, -with something of relief in his tone. - -“Well then, Jack, to begin with, I wish to charter your ship for a voyage -and to show that it is no subterfuge to hold you here, I say at once I -wish you to sail in her.” Mr. Dunlap paused for a moment to note the -effect of his proposal and then continued, - -“Let me go over the situation, Jack, and tell me if you do not agree -in my conclusions. Lucy, while apparently restored in a degree to her -former health, is still weak and looks fragile. The physicians advise -me to take her to a warmer climate before our New England Winter sets -in. Her dementia still continues, and while she is perfectly gentle and -harmless, she will neither tolerate the presence of her husband, nor poor -Mrs. Church, and is even not pleased or quiet in my company. I think -my likeness to my beloved brother affects her. She clings to your good -mother and to you, my lad, with the confident affection of a child. When -she is not softly singing, as she rocks and smiles in a heartrending, -far-off-way, some baby lullaby, she is flitting about the house like -some sweet and sorrowful shadow. Can we, Jack, expose our girl in this -condition to the unsympathetic gaze of strangers?” - -“No, no, a thousand times no!” was the quick and emphatic answer of the -younger man. - -“Now listen, Jack. Since the death of that poor, little misshapen black -creature, which innocently brought so much trouble into our lives, and, -Jack, your thoughtfulness in having it buried quietly in Bedford instead -of here is something I shall never forget. But to return to Lucy: Since -that object is out of the way, and after the consultation of those great -specialists in mental disorder cases, I am led to hope that Lucy may be -restored to us in all the glory of her former mental condition.” - -“God speed the day,” exclaimed Jack fervently and reverently. - -“The specialists affirm that as this aberration of mind was produced by -a shock and as there is no inherited insanity involved in the case, that -the restoration may occur at any moment in the most unexpected manner. A -surprise, shock or some accident may instantly produce the joyful change. - -“It is for that very reason that I have insisted that Burton should -remain near at hand, and ready to respond to a call from the restored -wife for her husband’s presence. We must bear in mind the fact that -Lucy, before this hallucination, was devotedly attached to her husband -and grandfather. With the return of her reason we may justly expect the -return of her former affections and feelings,” interrupted Jack by way -of explanation of something he had done. - -“I know that, Jack, and approve of your course, but I am only a weak -human creature, and notwithstanding the injunction of my dying brother -to blame no one, I cannot eradicate from my mind a feeling of animosity -toward Burton. I know that he is not culpable, but still I should be -glad to have him pass out of our lives, if it were not for the probable -effect upon Lucy if she ever be restored to reason. However, I was not -displeased by his decision to return to his own house, the ‘Eyrie,’ until -his presence was required here.” - -“Burton’s position, sir, has been a very trying one. I may say a very -dreadful one, and I think that he has acted in a very manly, courageous -manner, sir, and I think it our duty, as Christian men, to put aside even -our natural repugnance to the author of our misfortune and be lenient -toward one who has suffered as well as ourselves.” - -The young sailor stopped, hesitated, and then jerked out the words - -“And to be frank and outspoken with you, sir, by heavens! I am saving -him for Lucy’s sake; if she wish him, when she know all, she shall have -him safe and sound if it cost my life.” There was a fierce determination -in Jack’s voice that boded no good to Burton should he attempt to -disappear, nor to any one who attempted to injure the man whom Lucy’s -loyal sailor knight was safe-keeping for his hopeless love’s sake. - -“Jack, I love you, lad.” was all that the old Dunlap said, but he knew -and felt the grandeur of the character of the man, who pressed the dagger -down into his own heart, to save a single pang to the woman whom he loved -so unselfishly. - -“But to resume the recital of my plans and our situation,” said the old -gentleman settling back in his chair. He had leaned forward to pat Jack -on the shoulder. - -“We agree that Lucy cannot be subjected to the scrutiny and criticism of -strangers. I propose, that as the physicians advise a warmer climate, -to charter the ‘Adams,’ have the cabin remodeled to accommodate Lucy, -your mother, the nurse and Lucy’s maid, and to take them all with me to -Haiti, just as soon as the changes in the accommodations on your ship can -be made.” - -“Burton goes with us, of course,” said Jack, assertively. - -“Well, I had not determined that point. What do you think?” - -“Decidedly, yes! The business may suffer, but let it. What is business in -comparison to the restoration of Lucy?” cried Jack in an aggressive tone -of voice. - -“It shall be as you think best, my lad. The business will not suffer -in any event, for since Burton’s return to his position as manager, he -has in some extraordinary manner become worthless in the management -of the affairs of the house. He does not inspire the respect that he -did formerly nor does he seem to possess the same self-confidence and -decision of character that marked his manner before the events of the -past few weeks. I don’t know what I should have done had it not been for -Chapman. He has taken full charge of everything and will continue in -control while I am absent, if you decide to take Burton along.” - -“You surprise me, sir. I had noticed no alteration in Burton’s manner,” -exclaimed Jack, sincerely astonished at what he heard. - -“That is quite likely as he seems to regard you with a kind of awed -respect, but nevertheless what I state is an absolute fact. When first he -made his appearance at the office he endeavored by a brave, bold front to -resume his position, but somehow his attempt was a lamentable failure. -He seemed to feel that everyone was aware that there was something -sham about his assumed dignity and authority and like an urchin caught -masquerading in his father’s coat and hat, he has discarded the borrowed -garments and relapsed into the character that nature gave him. Burton’s -succeeding efforts to impress the office force and people with whom we do -business with a sense of his importance have been absurdly laughable,” -said Mr. Dunlap. - -“The secret of the child, and all that concerns our family is confined -to our own people, and a few old and faithful friends, is it not?” asked -Jack in an anxious, troubled voice. - -“Certainly, but that apparently does not lessen Burton’s sense of being -garbed in stolen apparel. I can notice the dignity and culture of the -white race growing less day by day in Burton’s speech and manner, just as -frost-pictures on a window pane lessen each hour in the rays of the sun -until naught remains but the naked and bared glass.” - -“What will be the end of all this, if you be correct?” cried Jack. - -“One by one the purloined habiliments of the superior race will disappear -until finally he will stand forth stripped of the acquired veneering -created by the culture of the white race, a negro. This transformation, -which I think time will effect, recalls to me an example of the -inordinate vanity and love of parading in borrowed plumage common to the -negro race. During one of the numerous insurrections in Haiti I used -to see one of the major generals of the insurgents—they had a dozen -for every hundred privates—a big black fellow, strut about, puffed up -with assumed importance and dignity. In less than one week after the -insurrection was suppressed he was at my door selling fish. While there -he began to ‘pat Juba,’ as he called it, and dance, giggling with -childish glee and winding up the performance by begging me for a quarter. -There you see the negro of it. Prick the balloon and when the borrowed -elevating gas escapes the skin collapses immediately,” said John Dunlap, -with the positiveness of a prophet. - -“God grant that the end be not as you surmise or let God in His mercy -continue our Lucy in her present condition. It were more merciful. -History gives the records of men of the negro race who did not end their -lives in the manner you suggest, however,” replied Jack, extracting a -crumb of comfort from the last statement. - -“True! my lad, true! There have been white elephants and white crows; in -every forest occasionally a rare bird is found. So with the negro race, -rare exceptions to the general rule do appear but so infrequently as to -only accentuate the accuracy of the general rule.” - - * * * * * - -Walter Burton was seated at a table in his bedroom at the “Eyrie.” Before -him were scattered letters, papers and writing material. It was late at -night and he had evidently been engaged in assorting and destroying the -contents of an iron box placed beside him on the floor. His elbows were -on the table and his chin rested in both of his hands while he gazed -meditatively at the flame in the lamp before him. - -“I am, oh! so weary of this farce. How I long to be able to run away and -be free,” he sighed as he said this to himself. After a little while he -continued. - -“The farce has been played to the final act. I know it. What is the use -to continue upon the stage longer? Should Lucy’s mind return to its -normal condition she must be informed of what has transpired and then -my happiness will terminate anyhow. Of what earthly use is it for me to -remain here. She might call for me at first, but only to repulse me at -last. I am tolerated by old John Dunlap, hated or despised by the others -except the noblest of them all, Jack Dunlap. He relies upon my word of -honor. I must not lose his respect. I would to God I had given another -the promise not to disappear.” - -The man paused for some time in his soliloquy and then broke out again -by exclaiming, - -“The moment that the nurse showed the child to me a curtain of darkness -seemed to roll back. I saw clearly what produced the strange spells -that for so long have mystified me. I am a negro. My blood and natural -inclinations are those common to the descendants of Ham. It matters -not that my skin is white, I am still a negro. The acquirement of the -education, culture and refinement of the white race has made no change in -my blood and inherent instincts. I am ever a negro. Like a jaded harlot I -may paint my face with the hues of health but I am like her, a diseased -imitator of the healthy. I may have every outward and visible sign but -the inward and spiritual grace of the white race is not and can never be -mine. I am a wretched sham, fraud and libel upon the white race with my -fair skin and affected manner.” - -The man’s arms fell upon the table and he hid his head in them and -groaned. Thus he remained for a short time, then raised his head and -cried out, - -“I even doubt that my Christianity is genuine and not a hollow mockery! -The doctrine of Mahomet is received more readily, and practiced more -consistently by my native race in its ancient home of Africa than the -pure and elevating teachings of Christ. The laws of Mahomet seem more -consistent with the sensual nature of my race than the chaste commands -of Christ. History relates that Islamism is able to turn an African -negro from idolatry where the Christian religion utterly fails. Are my -protestations of faith in Christianity like my refinement, culture and -manners, merely outward manifestations in imitation of the white race and -as deceitful as is the color of my skin?” - -Burton sat silent for several moments and then said in a tone of sad -reminiscence. - -“I recall how everything in the Christian religion or service that -appealed to the emotional element within me aroused me, but is my -nature as a negro, susceptible of receiving, retaining and appreciating -permanently the truths of that purest and noblest of all faiths?” Again -the man paused as if silently struggling to solve the problem suggested. - -“It has of late, I know, become the fashion to refuse to accept -the Scriptures literally, but there is one prophecy concerning the -descendants of Ham which thousands of years have demonstrated as true.” - -“The sculpture of that oldest of civilizations, the mother of all -culture, the Egyptian, proves beyond a doubt that the children of Ham -came in contact with the source of Greek and Roman culture yet they -advanced not one step. The profiles of some even of the early Pharaohs -as seen on their tombs furnish unmistakable proof of that contact in the -Negroid type of the features of Egypt’s rulers.” - -“The Romans carried civilization to every people whom they conquered and -to those who escaped the Roman domination they bequeathed an impetus that -urged them forward, with the single exception of the accursed Hamites.” - -“The Arabs occupied Northern Africa and kept burning the torch of -civilization in the chaos of the Dark Ages in Europe. The Arabs -fraternized more freely with the sons of Ham than all other branches of -the human race, but failed to push, pull or drive them along the highway -of culture.” - -“The negro race seems bound by that old Scriptural prophecy concerning -the descendants of Ham. It does not advance beyond being the hewers of -wood and drawers of water for the balance of mankind, notwithstanding -five thousand years of opportunity and inducement.” - -“The negro race in Africa, its ancestral land, can point to no ruined -temples, no not even mounds like can the American Indians. It borrowed -not even the art of laying stones from Egypt. It has no written language -though the Phoenicians gave that blessing to the world. It has no -religion worthy of the name, neither laws nor well defined language. -Notwithstanding its association with Egyptian, Roman and Arabian culture -and civilization, fountains for all of the thirsty white race, the negro -race has benefited not at all. It is where it was five thousand years -ago. God’s will be done!” - -Burton paused while a sneer came to his lips when he began again speaking. - -“Haiti, after decades of freedom, starting with the benefits conferred -by the religion and civilization of one of the leading nations of earth, -is the home today of ignorance, slothfulness and superstition. Every -improvement made by the former white rulers neglected and passing away. -In the hands of the white race it had now been a Paradise. Liberia is as -dead, stagnant and torpid as if progress had vanished with the fostering -care of the white nations that founded that republic.” - -The young man ceased in recapitulating the failures of his race, but -added with a sigh, - -“In America! Well one may grow oranges in New England by covering the -trees with glass and heating the conservatory, but break the glass or let -the fire expire and the orange trees die. Break the civilization of the -white race in America like the glass, let the fire of its culture become -extinguished and alas for the exotic race and its artificial progress.” - -“But enough of my race,” exclaimed Burton impatiently as he arose from -the table and began walking about the room. - -“Formerly I tried to curb an inclination that was incomprehensible. Now -that I know the cause I rather enjoy the relapses into my natural self. I -welcome the casting aside of the mask and affectation of the unreal. It -is a relief. The restraint imposed by the presence of those who know me -for what I am, is irksome. I long all day for the freedom of my isolation -here in the ‘Eyrie’ where no prying eye is finely discriminating the -real from the sham. I loath the office and the association there. Each -day I seem to drop a link of the chain that binds me to an artificial -existence.” - -Suddenly an idea seemed to present some new phase to the soliloquizing -man. He put his hand to his head as if in pain, and cried out, - -“But the end! What shall it be?” - - - - -XV. - - -“It was good of you Jack, to have Mr. Dunlap invite me to dine with -him this evening. I am deucedly weary of the ‘off colored,’” exclaimed -Lieutenant Tom Maxon as he and his companion, Captain Jack Dunlap walked -in the twilight through the outskirts of Port au Prince. - -“To tell you the truth, Tom, I was not thinking of your pleasure in the -visit half so much as I was about my old kinsman’s. You see we have been -here a month, and as my Cousin Lucy is an invalid and sees no company, -Mr. Dunlap has divided his great rambling house into two parts. He and -Burton occupy one part and the women folk the other; I join them as -often as possible but as Burton is exceedingly popular with the dusky -Haitians and often absent, my old cousin is apt to be lonely. I thought -your habitual jolliness would do him good, and at the same time secure -you a fine dinner, excellent wine and the best cigars in Haiti; hence the -invitation.” - -“How is Mrs. Burton? I remember her from the days when you, the little -Princess and I used to make ‘Rome howl’ in the Dunlap attic.” - -“Lucy is much improved by the sea voyage and change of climate, but must -have absolute quiet. For that reason my mother keeps up an establishment -in one part of the house to insure against noise, or intrusion,” said -Jack. - -“I hope that you didn’t promise much jollity on my part this evening, old -chum, for the thought of our little Princess being an invalid and under -the same roof knocks all the laugh and joke out of even a mirthful idiot -like Tom Maxon,” said the lieutenant. - -“It’s sailing rather close to tears, I confess, Tom, but I do wish you -to cheer the old gentleman up some if you can,” replied Jack as they -strolled along the highway between dense masses of tropical foliage. - -“I say, Jack, is Mr. Dunlap’s place much further? I don’t half like its -location,” said Maxon as he looked about him and noticed the absence of -houses and the thick underbrush. - -“Why? What’s the matter with it? Are you leg weary already, you -sea-swab?” cried Dunlap laughing. - -“Not a bit; but I’ll tell you something that may be a little imprudent -in a naval officer, but still I think you ought to know. The American -Consul fears some trouble from the blacks on account of the concessions -that Dictator Dupree was forced to grant the whites before the English -and American bankers would make the loan that Mr. Dunlap negotiated. The -rumor is that the ignorant blacks from the mountains blame your kinsman -and mutter threats against him. When Admiral Snave received the order at -Gibraltar to call at Port au Prince on our way home with the flag-ship -Delaware and one cruiser, we all suspected something was up, and after we -arrived and the old fighting-cock placed guards at the American Consulate -we felt sure of it,” replied Lieutenant Tom seriously. - -“Oh! pshaw, these black fellows are always muttering and threatening but -it ends at that,” said Jack with a contemptuous gesture. - -“‘Luff round,’ shipmate,” suddenly called Tom Maxon grabbing hold of -Jack’s arm and pointing through a break in the jungle that lined the -roadway. - -“Isn’t that a queer combination over there by that dead tree?” continued -the officer directing Jack’s gaze to a cleared spot on the edge of the -forest. - -In the dim light could be distinguished the figure of a well-dressed man, -who was not black, in earnest conversation with a bent old hag of a black -woman who rested her hand familiarly and affectionately upon his arm. -Dunlap started when he first glanced at them. The figure and dress of the -man was strangely similar to that of Walter Burton. - -“Some go-between in a dusky love affair doubtless,” said Jack shortly as -he moved on. - -“Well, I think I could select a better looking Cupid,” exclaimed Tom -laughing at the suggestion of the old witch playing the part of love’s -messenger. - -“By the way, Jack, speaking of Cupid, I received a peculiar communication -at Gibraltar. It was only a clipping from some society paper but -this was what it said: ‘Mr. T. DeMontmorency Jones has sailed in his -magnificent yacht the “Bessie” for the Mediterranean, where he will -spend the winter. _En passant_, rumor says the engagement between Mr. -Jones and one of Boston’s most popular belles has been terminated.’ -This same spindle shanked popinjay of a millionaire was sailing in the -wake of my _inamorata_ and was said to have cut me out of the race -after my Trafalgar. So, when I tell you, old chap, that the writing on -the envelope looks suspiciously like the chirography of Miss Elizabeth -Winthrop, you can guess why I can sing - - ‘There’s a sweetheart over the sea’ - ‘And she’s awaiting there for me.’” - -The light-hearted lieutenant aroused the birds from their roosts by the -gusto of his boisterous baritone in his improvised song. He stopped short -and said abruptly, - -“Jack, why the deuce didn’t you fall in love with the little Princess and -marry her yourself?” - -“Hold hard, Tom. My cousin Lucy is the object of too much serious concern -to us all to be made the subject of jest just now, even by you, comrade, -and what you ask is infernal nonsense anyhow,” replied Jack, somewhat -confused and with more heat than seemed justifiable. - -“Oh! I beg your pardon, Jack. You know that I’m such a thoughtless fool, -I didn’t think how the question might sound,” said Tom quickly, in -embarrassment. - -Captain Dunlap made no mistake in promising the lieutenant of the U.S.N. -a good dinner, rare wine and fine cigars. John Dunlap in the desert of -Sahara would have surrounded himself, somehow, with all the accessories -necessary to an ideal host. - -Good-natured Tom Maxon exercised himself to the utmost in cheering the -old gentleman and dispelling any loneliness or gloom that he might -feel. Tom told amusing anecdotes of the irascible admiral, recounted -odd experiences and funny incidents in his term of service among the -Philippinoes and Chinese; he sang queer parodies on popular ballads, -and rollicking, jolly sea songs until the old gentleman, temporarily -forgetting his care and grief, was laughing like a schoolboy. - -When they were seated, feet upon the railing, _a la Americaine_, on the -broad piazza, listening to the songs of the tropical night birds, as they -smoked their cigars, the lieutenant recalled the subject of the location -of Mr. Dunlap’s house, by saying, - -“I mentioned to Jack, while on my way here, sir, that it seemed to me -that you would be safer nearer the American Consulate in case any trouble -should arise concerning the concessions to the whites made by Dupree.” - -“Oh! I don’t think that there is any occasion for alarm. To bluff and -bluster is part of the negro nature. The whole talk is inspired by -the agitation caused by the Voo Doo priests and priestesses among the -superstitious blacks from the mountains. By the way, Jack, our old friend -the witch who wished to sail in your ship with us when we left for -Boston, still haunts my premises.” As if to corroborate what the speaker -had just said, a wailing chant arose on the tranquil night air, coming -from just beyond the wall around the garden, - - “Oh! Tu Konk, my Tu Konk” - “Send back the black blood.” - -“There she is now,” exclaimed Jack and Mr. Dunlap at the same time. - -“My black boy who waits at the table told me that the old crone was -holding meetings nightly in worship of Voo Doo, and that too in the very -suburbs of the city,” said Mr. Dunlap when the sound of old Sybella’s -voice died away in the distance. - -“Where is Burton tonight?” asked Jack as if recalling something. - -“I don’t know. When he does not appear at the established dinner hour I -take it for granted that he is at the club in the city or dining with -some of his newly made friends. He is quite popular here, being a Haitian -himself,” replied the old gentleman. - - * * * * * - -It was late that night when Walter Burton entered the apartments reserved -for his exclusive use in the house of John Dunlap. Throwing off his coat -he sat down in a great easy chair in the moonlight by the open window and -lighted a cigar. - -“I wish that I were free to fly to the mountains and hide myself here in -Haiti among my own people forever,” sighed the young man glancing away -off to the shadowy outline of the hills against the moonlit sky. - -“The sensation of being pitied is humiliating and hateful, and that was -what I endured during the voyage from Boston, and have suffered ever -since I arrived and have been in enforced association with the Dunlaps. -The devoted love for Lucy, my wife, is a source of pain, not pleasure. -Her unreasoning antipathy now is more bearable than will surely be the -repulsion that must arise if, when restored to reason, she learn that I -am the author of the cause of her disappointment, horror and dementia. -Woe is mine under any circumstances! The evil consequences of attempted -amalgamation of the negro and white races are not borne alone by the -white participants but fall as heavily upon those of the negro blood who -share in the abortive effort.” - -Burton seemed to ruminate for a long while, smoking in silence, then he -muttered, - -“Am I much happier when with my own race? Hardly! When I am in the -society of even the most highly cultivated Haitian negroes I am unable -to free myself from the thought that we are much like a lot of monkeys, -such as Italian street musicians carry with them. We negroes are togged -out in the dignity, education and culture of the white race, but we are -only aping the natural, self-evolved civilization and culture of the -whites. The clothing does not fit us, the garments were not cut according -to our mental and moral measurements, and we appear ridiculous when we -don the borrowed trappings of the white race’s mind, and pompously strut -before an amused and jeering world.” - -“When I imagined the mantle that I wore was my own it set lightly and -comfortably on me. Now that I realize that it is the property of another, -it has become cumbersome, unwieldy, awkward and is slipping rapidly from -my shoulders.” - -“On the other side of the subject are equal difficulties. If, weary of -imitation and affectation, I seek the society of my race in all its -natural purity and ignorance, my senses have become so acute, softened -and made tender by the long use of my borrowed mantle that I am shocked, -horrified or disgusted. Oh! Son of Ham, escape from the doom pronounced -against you while yet time was new seems impossible. In My Book it is -writ, saith the Lord!” - -In melancholy musing the man tortured by so many contrary emotions and -feelings, sat silently gazing at the distant stars and then cried out in -anguish of spirit, - -“Oh! that I should be forced to feel that the Creator of all this grand -universe is unjust! That I should regard education and culture as a curse -to those foredoomed to be hewers of wood and drawers of water. That I -should realize that refinement is a cankerous limb, a clog and hindrance -to a negro, unfitting him for association with his own race and yet -impotent to change those innate characteristics inherited by him from his -ancestors, that disqualify him from homogeneousness with the white race.” - -The young man’s voice was full of despair and even something of reproach -as his subtle intellect wove the meshes of the adamantine condition that -bound him helpless, in agony, to the rack of race inferiority. - -“Mother Sybella, who has proven herself my great-grandmother, urges -me to fly and seek among my own people that surcease from suffering -unattainable among the whites. While she fascinates me, she fills me with -horror. I am drawn toward her yet I am repelled by something loathsome -in the association with her. She seems to possess hypnotic power over my -senses; she leads me by some magnetic influence that exerts control over -the negro portion of my nature.” - -“I am ashamed to be seen by the white people, especially the Dunlaps, -in familiar conversation with the grandmother of my mother, but in our -secret and frequent interviews she has told me much that I was unaware -of concerning my ancestors and my mother. I have promised to attend a -meeting of my kinsmen tomorrow night, which will be held in a secluded -spot near the city, whither she herself will guide me. I do not wish to -go. I did not wish to make the promise and appointment to meet her, but -was compelled by the overmastering power she wields over the natural -proclivities within me. I must meet her and go with her.” - -The struggle in the dual nature of the man between the contending forces -of the innate and the acquired was obvious in the reluctant tone in -which, while he admitted that he would obey the innate, he lamented the -abandonment of the acquired. - -“I must go, I feel that I must! My destiny was written ere Shem, Ham -and Japhet separated to people the world. I bow to the inevitable! I am -pledged to Dupree for dinner tomorrow evening, but I shall excuse myself -early, and keep my appointment with Mother Sybella, and accompany her to -the meeting of my kindred.” - - - - -XVI. - - -The cleared spot selected by Mother Sybella as the scene of her mystic -ceremonies and the gathering place of the worshipers of Voo Doo, -though scarcely beyond the outskirts of the city, was so screened by -the umbrageous growth of tropical forest, interlaced with vanilla and -grape-vines that festoon every woodland of Haiti, that its presence was -not even suspected save by the initiated. - -On the night that Dictator Dupree entertained, among other guests the -wealthy Haitian, Walter Burton, partner in the great American house of -“J. Dunlap,” and husband of the heiress to the millions accumulated by -the long line of “J. Dunlaps” which had controlled the Haitian trade with -the United States, a strange and uncanny drama was enacted almost within -sound of the music that enlivened the Dictator’s banquet. - -Through trees entwined by gigantic vines, resembling monstrous writhing -serpents, glided silently many dark forms carrying blazing torches of -resinous wood to guide the flitting figures through the intricacies of -the hardly definable pathways that ran in serpentine indistinctness -toward the clear spot, where Mother Sybella had set up the altar of -Tu Konk, and was calling her children to worship by the booming of an -immense red drum upon which she beat at short intervals. - -In the center of the clearing, coiled upon the stump of a large tree, -was a huge black snake, that occasionally reared its head and, waving it -from side to side, emitted a fearful hissing sound as it shot forth its -scarlet, flame-like tongue. - -Torches and bonfires illuminated the spot and cast gleams of light upon -the dark faces and distended, white and rolling eyes of the men and women -who, squatting in a circle back in the shade of the underbrush, chanted a -monotonous dirge-like invocation to the Voo Doo divinity called by them -Tu Konk, and supposed to dwell in the loathsome body of the serpent on -the stump. - -By almost imperceptible degrees the blows upon the drum increased in -frequency; old Sybella seemed some tireless fiend incarnate as gradually -she animated the multitude and quickened the growing excitement of her -emotional listeners by the ceaseless booming of her improved tom-tom. -Soon the forest began to resound with hollow bellowing of conch shells -carried by many of the squatters about the circle. The chant became -quicker. Shouting took the place of the droning monotonous incantations -to Tu Konk. - -Higher and higher grew the gale of excitement. The shouting grew in -volume and intensity. Wild whoops mingled with the more sonorous shouts -that made the forest reverberate. - -Suddenly the half-clad figure of a man sprang into the circle of light -that girded the stump whereon the now irritated snake was hissing -continuously. The man was bare to the waist and without covering on his -legs and feet below the knees; his eyes glared about him, the revolving -white balls in their ebony colored setting was something terrifying to -behold. The man uttered whoop after whoop and began shuffling sideways -around the stump, every moment adding to the rapidity and violence of his -motions until shortly he was madly bounding into the air and with savage -shouts tearing at the wool on his head, while white foam flecked his bare -black breast. - -The man’s madness became contagious. Figure after figure sprang within -the lighted space about the serpent. Men, women, and even children all -more or less nude, the few garments worn presenting a heterogeneal -kaleidoscope of vivid, garish colors as the frenzied dancers whirled -about in the irregular light of the torches and bonfires. - -Soon spouting streams of red stained the glistening black bodies, and -joined the tide of white foam pouring from the protruding, gaping, -blubber lips of the howling, frantic worshipers. - -The fanatic followers of Voo Dooism were wounding themselves in the -delirium of irresponsible emotion. Blood gushed from long gashes made by -sharp knives on cheeks, breasts, backs and limbs. The gyrations of the -gory, crazed and howling mass were hideous to behold. - -When the tempest of curbless frenzy seemed to have reached a point -beyond which increase appeared impossible, old Sybella rushed forward, -like the wraith of the ancient witch of Endor, dashing the dancers aside, -springing to the stump she seized the snake and winding its shining coils -about her she waved aloft the long, glittering blade of the knife that -she held in hand, and shrieked out, in the voice of an infuriated fiend, - -“Bring forth the hornless goat. Let Tu Konk taste the blood of the -hornless one!” - -A crowd of perfectly naked and bleeding men darted forward bearing in -their midst an entirely nude girl, who in a perfect paroxysm of terror -fought, writhed and struggled fearfully, yelling wildly all the time, in -the grip of her merciless and insensate captors. - -The men stretched the screaming wretch across the stump on which the -snake had rested, pressed back the agonized girl’s head until her slender -neck was drawn taut. Quick as the serpent’s darting tongue, Sybella’s -bright, sharp blade descended, severing at one stroke the head almost -from the quivering body. - -A fiercer, wilder cry arose from the insane devotees as a great tub -nearly full of fiery native rum was placed to catch the gushing stream -that flowed in a crimson torrent from the still twitching body of the -sacrifice to Voo Doo. - -Sybella stirred the horrible mixture of blood and rum with a ladle, made -of an infant’s skull affixed to a shin-bone of an adult human being, and -having replaced the snake upon his throne, on the stump, in an abject -posture presented to the serpent the ladle filled with the nauseating -stuff. The re-incarnate Tu Konk thrust his head repeatedly into the -skull-bowl and scattered drops of the scarlet liquid over his black and -shining coils. - -Then Sybella using the skull-ladle began filling enormous dippers made -of gourds, that the eager, maddened crowd about the Voo Doo altar held -expectantly forth, craving a portion in the libation to Tu Konk. - -The maniacal host gorged themselves with the loathsome fluid, gulped down -in frenzied haste, great draughts of that devilish brew, from the large -calabashes that Sybella filled. - -Now hell itself broke forth. No longer were the worshipers men and -women. The lid was lifted from hell’s deepest, most fiendish caldron. A -crew of damned demons was spewed out upon earth. With demoniac screams -that rent the calmness of the night, they beat and gashed themselves, -their slabbering, thick lips slapping together as they gibbered, like -insane monkeys, sending flying showers of foam over their bare and -bleeding bodies. Human imps of hell’s creation fell senseless to the -ground or writhing in hideous, inhuman convulsions twined their distorted -limbs about the furious dancers who stamped upon their hellish faces and -brought the dancers shrieking to the earth. - -In the midst of this pandemonium, redolent with the odor of inferno, -a dark figure, that, crouched in the deep shade of the clustering -palm plants, and covered with a dark mantle, had remained unnoticed a -spectator of the scene, sprang up, hurled to one side the concealing -cloak and bounded toward the stump whereon the serpent hissed defiance at -his adorers. - -With an unearthly yell, half-groan, half-moan, but all insane, frantic -and wild, the neophyte leaped about in erratic gyrations of adoration -before the snake, that embodiment of Tu Konk, the Voo Doo divinity. - -As whirling and, in an ecstacy of emotion, waving aloft his hands the -howling dancer turned and the light of the bonfire fell upon his face, -the brutalized features of Walter Burton were revealed. - -Those refined, aesthetic features that had made the man “the observed of -all observers” at Miss Stanhope’s musicale in Boston, had scarcely been -recognized as the same in the strangely flattened nose, the thickened -lips, the popped and rolling eyes of the man who, in the forest glade of -Haiti danced before the Voo Doo god Tu Konk the serpent. - -Burton’s evening dress was torn and disarranged, his hair disheveled, his -immaculate linen spotted with blood, his shoes broken and muddy, his face -contorted and agonized, as twisting and squirming in every limb he sprang -and leaped in a fiercely violent dance before the snake. Yells of long -pent-up savage fury rang through the dank night air, as Burton threw back -his head and whooped in barbarous license. - -Sybella’s flashing eyes gleamed with joy as she gazed at this reclaimed -scion of the negro race. She stole toward the flying figure that spun -around, transported to the acme of insane emotion, singing in triumphant -screeches as she crept forward, - - “Tu Konk, the Great one - Tu Konk, I thank thee - Back comes black blood - No longer childless - Tu Konk, I praise thee.” - - * * * * * - -Mr. Dunlap was aroused at daylight by a messenger wearing the naval -uniform of the United States, who waited below with an important -communication from Lieutenant Maxon. - -Two hours before Mr. Dunlap heard the rap on his bedroom door, a pale -and trembling figure, clothed in a dilapidated evening suit, had slunk -stealthily past his chamber and entered the apartments occupied by the -husband of the Dunlap heiress. - - “Dear Mr. Dunlap.—I am instructed by Admiral Snave to inform - you that an uprising of the blacks is imminent; that it will - be impossible to protect you in your exposed position should - such an event take place. The admiral suggests that you remove - your family at once to the American Consulate, where protection - will be furnished all Americans. Very respectfully, - - Thomas Maxon, Lieut. U.S.N.” - - “P.S.—Please adopt the Admiral’s suggestion. I think you had - better let Jack know about this. - - T.M.” - -Such were the contents of the letter of which the U.S. marine was bearer -and it was answered as follows: - - “Dear Mr. Maxon.—Express my gratitude to Admiral Snave for - the suggestion, but be good enough to add that the health - of my niece demands absolute quiet and that I shall remain - here instead of going to the crowded Consulate; that I deem - any disturbance as exceedingly improbable from my intimate - acquaintance with the character of the natives of this island. - - Very respectfully, - - J. Dunlap. - - P.S.—Will notify Jack to bring a man or two from his ship to - guard premises for a night or so.” - -In the evening, as the shadows of night fell upon the house of Mr. John -Dunlap and the owls began to flutter from their roosts and hoot, Mr. -Brice, first officer, and McLeod, the big, bony carpenter of the “Adams” -were seated on the steps of the piazza in quiet contentment, puffing -the good cigars furnished by Mr. Dunlap after, what seemed to them, a -sumptuous banquet. - -“I declare, Jack, were it not that the consequences might be serious, I -should rather enjoy seeing long-limbed Brice and that wild, red-haired -Scotchman of yours, led by you, charging an angry mob of blacks, armed -with those antiquated cutlasses that your fellows brought from the ship. -The blacks would surely run in pure fright at the supposed resurrection -of the ancient buccaneers. No scene in a comic opera could compare with -what you and your men would present,” said Mr. Dunlap in an amused tone, -as he rocked back and forth in an easy chair on the veranda, and chatted -with his namesake, Jack. - -“It might be amusing to you, sir,” replied Jack laughing, “but it -would be death to any black who came within the swing of either of the -cutlasses carried by Brice and McLeod. I picked up a half dozen of those -old swords at a sale in Manila, and decorated my cabin with them. When I -told the men that there might be a fight they could find no other weapons -on board ship so denuded my cabin of its decorations and brought them -along. Of course I have a revolver but in a rush those old cutlasses -could do fearful execution. They are heavy and as sharp as razors.” - -“While I am unwilling to take even a remote risk with Lucy and your -mother in the house, still in my opinion there is not one chance in a -million that anything but bluff and bluster will come of this muttering. -Admiral Snave is always anxious for a fight, and the wish is father of -the thought in this alarm,” said the old gentleman. - -“Why isn’t Burton here?” asked Jack almost angrily. - -“He is up stairs. He has been feeling ill all day and asked not to be -disturbed unless he be needed. I shall let him rest. However, he has a -revolver and is an excellent shot and will prove a valuable aid to us -should the fools attempt to molest the premises.” - -For an hour or two Brice and McLeod exchanged an occasional word -or two but gradually these brief speeches became less frequent and -finally ceased altogether. Mr. Dunlap and Jack carried on a desultory -conversation for some time, but had sat in silent communion with their -own thoughts for possibly an hour when, under the somnific influence -of the night songsters, the Scotch ship-carpenter yawned, rose to his -feet and stretched his long, hairy arms. He paused in the act and thrust -forward his head to catch some indistinct sound, then growled, - -“I hear murmuring like surf on a lee-shore.” - -Brice arose and listened for a minute then called out, - -“Captain, I hear the sound of bare feet pattering on the highway.” - -Jack was on his feet in an instant and ran down the walk to the gate in -the high brick wall that surrounded the premises. He came running back -almost immediately and said in low voice as he reached the piazza. - -“There is a mob coming toward the house, along the road leading from the -mountains. They carry torches and may mean mischief. Cousin John, will -you have Burton called and will you please remain here to look after the -women. Brice you and McLeod get cutlasses and bring me one also. We will -meet the mob at the gate.” - -“Oh! It is nothing Jack, maybe a negro frolic. No use arousing Burton,” -said the elder Dunlap. - -“If you please, sir, do as I ask. I will be prepared in any event,” said -Jack Dunlap tersely. - -“All right, Commander, the laugh will be at your expense,” cried the -amused old gentleman as he ordered a servant to call Burton. - -Jack and his two stalwart supporters had barely reached the gate when the -advance guard of the savage horde of black mountaineers appeared before -it. Instantly it flashed upon the mind of the skipper that if he barred -the gate, that then part of the mob might go around and break over the -wall in the rear of the house and attack the defenceless women. - -“Throw open the gate, McLeod, we will meet them here,” commanded Captain -Dunlap, and turning as some one touched his shoulder, he found Burton at -his side, very pale and but half clad, with a revolver in his hand. - -“Glad you are here, Burton.” - -“I did not have time to put on my shoes.” said Burton. - -The main body of the mob now came up and gathered about the open gate. -The men were armed with clubs and knives and some few, who were evidently -woodsmen, carried axes. Many torches shed their light over the black -and brutal faces, making them appear more ebony by the white and angry -eyes that glared at the men who stood ready to do battle just within the -gateway. - -“I wish you people to understand that if you attempt to enter this gate -many of you will be killed.” - -Young Dunlap spoke in a quiet voice, as he stood between the pillars of -the gate, but there was such an unmistakable menace in the steady tone -that even the ignorant barbarians understood what he meant. - -For the space of a minute of time the mob hesitated. Suddenly a tall -woodsman struck a sweeping, chopping blow with his ax. The skipper sprang -aside just in time, and as quick as a flash of lightning a stream of -flame poured out of the pistol he held in his hand, and that woodsman -would never chop wood again. - -Brice and McLeod had cast aside their coats, and with their long, sinewy -arms bared to the elbows, cutlasses grasped in their strong hands, they -were by Jack’s side in a second. - -As the pistol shot rang out it seemed to give the signal for an assault. -With a howl, like wild and enraged animals, the mob rushed upon the men -at the gate. The rush was met by the rapid discharge of the revolvers -held by Dunlap and Burton; for a moment it was checked, then a shrill -voice was heard screaming high above the howling of the savages, - -“Kill the white cow! She has stolen our son from us! Kill the Yankee -robbers! Spare my black goat!” - -Sybella could be heard though concealed by the tall black men of the -mountains who again hurled themselves on the white men who guarded the -gateway. - -The revolvers were empty. Jack sent his flying into a black face as he -gripped the hilt of his cutlass and joined old Brice and the carpenter in -the deadly reaping they were doing. Burton having no other weapon than -the revolver, threw it aside and seized a club that had dropped from the -hands of one of the slain blacks. - -The sweep of those old cutlasses in the powerful hands that held them was -awful, magnificent; no matter what may have been the history of those -old blades they had never been wielded as now. But numbers began to tell -and the infuriated negroes fought like fiends, urged on by the old siren -Sybella who shrieked out a kind of battle song of the blacks. - -How long the four held back the hundreds none can tell, but it seemed an -age to the fast wearying men who held the gate. A blow from an ax split -McLeod’s head and he fell dead without even a groan. Brice turned as he -heard his shipmate fall and received a stunning smash on the temple from -a club that felled him like an ox in the shambles. - -[Illustration: “He recklessly rushed in front of Burton.” - -Page 286] - -Jack saw Burton, who was fighting furiously, beset by two savage blacks -armed with axes stuck on long poles. In that supreme moment of peril the -thought of Lucy’s sorrow at loss of her husband, should she be restored -to reason, came to the mind of the great hearted sailor. He recklessly -rushed in front of Burton, severed at a stroke of his sword the arm of -one of Burton’s assailants, and caught the descending ax of the other -when within an inch of the head of the man who had taken the place in -Lucy’s love that he had hoped for. - -Jack Dunlap’s cutlass warded off the blow from Burton but the sharp ax -glanced along the blade and was buried in the broad breast of Lucy’s -knight, and he fell across the bodies of his faithful followers, Brice -and McLeod; Jack’s fast deafening ears caught sound of— - -“Follow me, lads, give them cold steel. Don’t shoot. You may hit friends! -Charge!” - -Tom Maxon’s voice was far from jolly now. There was death in every note -of it as, at the head of a body of United States Blue-jackets, he dashed -in among the black barbarians. When he caught sight of the prostrate, -bleeding form of his old school-fellow he raged like a wounded lion -among Sybella’s savage followers. - -As the lieutenant saw that the range of fire was free from his friends, -he cried out, hoarse with passion, - -“Fire at will. Give them hell!” and he emptied his own revolver into the -huddled crowd of mountaineers, who still stood, brave to recklessness, -hesitating about what to do against the new adversaries. - -The repeating rifles of the Americans soon covered the roadway with dark -corpses. Long lanes were cut by the rapid fire through the black mass. -With howls and yells of mingled terror, rage and disappointment the -mob broke and taking to the jungle disappeared in the darkness of the -adjacent forest. - -A sailor kicked aside what he thought was a bundle of rags, and started -back as the torch that he bore revealed the open, fangless mouth and -snake-like, glaring eyes of an old crone of a woman who in death seemed -even more horrible than in life. - -A rifle ball, at close range, had shattered Mother Sybella’s skull. - - - - -XVII. - - -All established rules of the house of “J. Dunlap” were as the laws of the -Medes and Persians to David Chapman, inviolable. When the hour of twelve -struck and neither Mr. John Dunlap nor Mr. Burton appeared at the office, -the Superintendent immediately proceeded to the residence of Mr. Dunlap. - -“I am sorry, Chapman, to have given you the trouble of coming out here, -but the fact is I am not so strong as formerly, and I expected that -Burton would be at the office and thought a day of repose might benefit -me,” remarked Mr. John Dunlap as Chapman entered his library carrying a -bundle of papers this March afternoon. - -“Mr. Burton has only been at the office once within the past week and not -more than a dozen times since you all returned from Haiti some two months -ago,” replied the Superintendent, methodically arranging the various -memoranda on the large library table. - -“First in order of date is as follows: Douglass and McPherson, the -solicitors at Glasgow, write that they have purchased the annuity for -old Mrs. McLeod and that the income secured to her is far larger than -any possible comfort or even luxury can require; they also say that the -lot in the graveyard has been secured and that the mother of the dead -ship carpenter is filled with gratitude for the granite stone you have -provided to mark her son’s grave and that no nobler epitaph for any -Scotsman could be carved than the one suggested by you to be cut on the -stone, ‘Died defending innocent women;’ they expect the body to arrive -within a few days and will follow instructions concerning the reinterment -of the remains of gallant McLeod; they add that beyond all expenditures -ordered they will hold a balance to our credit and ask what is your -pleasure concerning same, that the four thousand pounds remitted by you -was far too large a sum.” - -“Far too small! Tell them to buy a cottage for McLeod’s mother and -draw at sight for more money, that the cottage may be a good one. Why! -Chapman, McLeod was a hero; but they were all of them that. He, however, -gave his life in our defense and there is no money value that can repay -that debt to him and his,” exclaimed Mr. Dunlap earnestly, and leaning -forward in the excitement that the recollection of the past recalled, -continued: - -“David, the dead were heaped about the spot where McLeod, Brice and Jack -fell like corded fire-wood. When I could leave the women, Lieutenant -Maxon and his men had dispersed the blacks, I fairly waded in blood to -reach the place where Maxon and Burton were bending over Jack. It was a -fearful sight. It had been an awful struggle, but it was all awful that -night. I dared not leave the women, yet I knew that even my weak help was -needed at the gate. Had my messenger not met Maxon on the road, to whom -notice of the intended attack had been given by a friendly black, we had -all been killed.” - -The excited old gentleman paused to regain his breath and resumed the -story of that dreadful experience. - -“Martha Dunlap is the kind of woman to be mother of a hero. She was as -calm and brave as her son and helped me like a real heroine in keeping -the others quiet. We told Lucy it was only a jubilee among the natives -and that they were shouting and shooting off firearms in their sport -along the highway. God forgive me for the falsehood, but it served to -keep our poor girl perfectly calm and she does not even now know to the -contrary.” Mr. Dunlap reverently inclined his head when he spoke of that -most excusable lie that he had told. - -“Jack does not get all of his nerve and courage from the Dunlap blood, -that is sure! When the surgeon was examining the great gash in his -breast, Martha stood at his side and held the basin; her hand never -trembled though her tearless face was as white as snow. All the others -of us, I fear, were blubbering like babies, I know, anyhow Tom Maxon was -whimpering more like a lass than the brave and terrible fighter that he -is. When the surgeon gave us the joyful news that the blow of the ax had -been stopped by the strong breast bone over our boy’s brave heart, we -were all ready to shout with gladness, but Martha then, woman like, broke -down and began weeping.” - -There was rather a suspicious moisture in the eyes of the relator of the -scene, as he thought over the occurrences of that night in Haiti. Even -though all danger was past and his beloved namesake, Jack Dunlap, was -now so far recovered as to be able to walk about, true somewhat paler in -complexion and with one arm bound across his breast, but entirely beyond -danger from the blow of the desperate Haitian axman. - -“That fighting devil of an American admiral soon cleared Port au Prince -of the insurgents and wished me to take up my residence at the consulate, -but I had enough of Haiti, for awhile anyway. So as soon as Jack could -safely be moved, and old Brice, whose skull must be made of iron, had -come around sufficiently after that smashing blow in the head, to take -command of the ‘Adams’ and navigate her to Boston, I bundled everybody -belonging to me aboard and sailed for home.” The word home came with a -sigh of relief from Mr. Dunlap’s lips as he settled back in his chair. - -“When we heard of your frightful experience, I had some faint hope that -the shock might have restored Mrs. Burton to her normal condition of -mind,” said Chapman. - -“Well, in the first place Lucy learned nothing concerning the affair, -and was simply told when she called for Jack that he was not well and -would be absent from her for a short time. But even had she received a -nervous shock from the harrowing events of that night, the experts in -mental disorders inform me that it is most unlikely that any good result -could have been produced; that as the primary cause of her dementia is -disappointed hope, expectation, and the recoil of the purest and best -outpouring of her heart, that the only shock at all probable to bring -about the desired change must come from a similar source,” answered Mr. -Dunlap. - -“To proceed with my report,” said the Superintendent glancing over some -papers. - -“Lieutenant Maxon is not wealthy, in fact, has only his pay from the -United States, and while his family is one of the oldest and most highly -respected in Massachusetts all the members of it are far from rich. The -watch ordered made in New York will be finished by the time the U.S. -Ship Delaware arrives, which will not be before next month.” - -“That all being as you have ascertained, I am going to make a requisition -upon your ingenuity, David. You must secure the placing in Maxon’s hands -of twenty one-thousand dollar bills with no other explanation than that -it is from ‘an admirer.’ The handsome, gay fellow may think some doting -old dowager sent it to him. The watch I will present as a slight token -of my friendship when I have him here to dine with me, and he can never -suspect me in the money matter.” Mr. Dunlap chuckled at the deep cunning -of the diabolical scheme. - -Chapman evidently was accustomed to the unstinted munificence of the -house of Dunlap, for he accepted the instruction quite as a mere detail -of the business, made a few notes and with his pen held between his teeth -as he folded the paper, mumbled: - -“I’ll see that he gets the money all right, sir, without knowing where it -comes from.” - -“Here are several things that Mr. Burton, who is familiar with the -preceding transactions, should pass upon, but as he is so seldom at the -office, I have had no opportunity to lay them before him,” continued the -ever vigilant Chapman, turning over a number of documents. - -“I know even less than you do about Burton’s department, so make out the -best way that you can under the circumstances.” - -“Is Mr. Burton ill, sir, or what is the reason why he is absent from -the office so much?” asked Chapman, to whom it seemed that the greatest -deprivation in life must be loss of ability to be present daily in the -office of J. Dunlap. - -“I am utterly at a loss to explain Burton’s conduct, especially since -our return from Haiti. He is morbid, melancholy, and seems to avoid -the society of all those who formerly were his chosen associates and -companions. He calls or sends here daily with religious regularity to -ascertain the condition of Lucy’s health, and occasionally asks Jack -to accompany him on a ride behind his fine team. You know that he is -aware that Jack saved his life by taking the blow on his own breast that -was aimed at Burton’s head. He was devoted to Jack on the voyage home -and here, until Jack’s recovery was assured beyond a doubt, but now he -acts so peculiarly that I don’t know what to make of him,” replied the -perplexed old gentleman. - -“Humph! Humph!” grunted Chapman, in a disparaging tone, and resumed the -examination of the sheets of paper before him. Selecting one, he said: - -“I find Malloy, the father of the girl, who was the victim of that -nameless crime and afterward murdered, to be a respectable, worthy man, -poor, but in need of no assistance. He is a porter at Brown Brothers. -It appears that the girl, who was only fifteen years of age, was one of -the nursery maids in the Greenleaf family, and had obtained permission -to visit her father’s home on the night of the crime and was on her way -there when she was assaulted.” - -“What has been done by the Police Department?” asked Mr. Dunlap eagerly. - -“To tell the truth, very little. The detectives seem mystified by a crime -of so rare occurrence in our section that it has shocked the whole of -New England. However, I know what would have happened had the crowd -assembled around Malloy’s house when the body was brought home, been able -to lay hands on the perpetrator of the deed, the whole police force of -Boston notwithstanding.” - -“What do you mean, David?” - -“I mean that the wretch would have been lynched,” exclaimed Chapman. - -“That had been a disgrace to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” said the -old gentleman warmly. - -“That may or may not be, sir. Malloy and his friends are all peaceable, -law-abiding citizens. Malloy was almost a maniac, not at the death of his -child but the rest of the crime, and the agony of the heartbroken father -was too much for the human nature of his neighbors, and human nature is -the same in New England as elsewhere in our land.” - -“But the law will punish crime and must be respected no matter what may -be the provocation to ignore its regular administration of justice,” said -Mr. Dunlap with a judicial air. - -“Truth is, sir, that one can hardly comprehend a father’s feelings under -such circumstances, and I don’t imagine there is a great difference -between the paternal heart in Massachusetts and in Mississippi. Human -nature is much alike in the same race in every clime. Men of the North -may occasionally be slower to wrath but are fearfully in earnest when -aroused by an outrage,” rejoined Chapman. - -“I frankly confess, David, that I recognize that it is one thing for me -to sit here calmly in my library and coolly discuss a crime in which I -have no direct personal interest, and announce that justice according -to written law only should be administered, but it would be quite a -different state of mind with which I should regard this crime if one of -my own family were the victim of the brute’s attack. I fear then I should -forget about my calm theory of allowing the regular execution of justice -and everything else, even my age and hoary head, and be foremost in -seeking quick revenge on the wretch,” said the old New Englander hotly. - -“Knowing you and your family as I do, sir, I’ll make oath that you would -head the mob of lynchers.” - -“My brother James, who was the soul of honor and a citizen of whom -the Commonwealth was justly proud, was very liberal in his opinion of -lynching for this crime. It was the single criminal act for which his -noble, charitable heart could find no excuse. I think even my brother -James, model citizen though he was, would have been a law-forgetting man -under such circumstances.” - -Old John Dunlap’s voice grew soft and tender when he mentioned the -name of his beloved brother, and either Chapman became extraordinarily -near-sighted or the papers in his hand required close scrutiny. - -“I have published the notice of the reward of one thousand dollars -offered by our house for the capture of the perpetrator of the crime,” -said the Superintendent rather huskily, changing the subject from that of -the character of his old master. - -“That is well, we are the oldest business house in Boston, and none can -think it presumptuous that we should be anxious to erase this stain from -the escutcheon of our Commonwealth. I wish every inducement offered that -may lead to the apprehension of the criminal.” Mr. Dunlap stopped short -as if suddenly some new idea had occurred to his mind, and then exclaimed: - -“David, you possess a wonderful faculty for fathoming deep and complex -mysteries. Why don’t you seek to discover the perpetrator of this -horrible crime?” - -David Chapman was not in the habit of blushing, but certainly his -cheeks took on an unusually bright crimson hue, as Mr. Dunlap asked -the question, and he answered in a somewhat abashed manner, as though -detected in some act of youthful folly. - -“I confess, sir, that I am making a little investigation in my own way. -There are a few trifling circumstances and fragments of evidence left by -the criminal that were considered unworthy of attention by the police -that I am tracing up, like an amateur Sherlock Holmes.” - -“Good for you, David! May you succeed in unearthing the brutal villain! -You have carte-blanche to draw on the house for any expense that your -search may entail. Go ahead! I will stand by you!” cried John Dunlap -enthusiastically. - - - - -XVIII. - - -“The abysmal depth of degradation has now been reached; I no longer, even -in my moments of affected refinement, attempt to conceal the fact from -myself, the gauzy veil of acquisition no longer deceives even me, it long -since failed to deceive others.” - -What evil genii of metamorphosis had transformed the debonair Walter -Burton into the wretched, slovenly, brutalized being who, grunting, gave -utterance to such sentiments, while stretched, in unkempt abandonment, on -a disordered couch in the center of the unswept and neglected music-room -in the ‘Eyrie’ early on this March morning? - -Even the linen of the once fastidious model of masculine cleanliness -was soiled, and the delights of the bath seemed quite unknown to the -heavy-eyed, listless lounger on the couch. - -“I have abandoned useless effort to rehabilitate myself in the misfit -garments of a civilization and culture for which the configuration of my -mental structure, by nature, renders me unsuited. My child indicated the -off-springs natural to me. My emotion and actions in the forest of Haiti -gave evidence of the degree of the pure spirit of religion to be found -in my inmost soul, and my conduct, following natural inclinations, since -my return to Boston, has demonstrated how little control civilization, -morality, or pity have over my inherent savage nature.” - -The man seemed in a peculiar way to derive some satisfaction from -rehearsing the story of his hopeless condition, and in the fact that he -had reached the limit of descent. - -“I should have fled to the mountains of Haiti, had I not been led to -fight against my own kinsmen. For the moment I was blinded by the -thread-bare thought that I was of the white instead of black race, and -when I had time to free my mind from that old misleading idea, my hands -were stained with the blood of my own race. I was obliged to leave Haiti -or suffer the fate that ever overtakes a traitor to his race.” - -“There is no hope of the restoration of my wife’s mental faculties, -and even should there be that is all the more reason for my fleeing -from Boston and forever disappearing, I retain enough of the borrowed -refinement of the whites in my recollection to know that as I am now I -should be loathesome to her.” - -“Here, I must shun the sight of those who know me, realizing that I -can no longer appear in the assumed character that I formerly did. -Here, I skulk the streets at night in the apparel of a tramp seeking -gratification of proclivities that are natural to me.” - -“I know that I must leave this city and country as quickly as possible. -The long repressed desires natural to me break forth with a fury that -renders me oblivious to consequences and my own safety. Repression by -civilization and culture foreign to a race but serves to increase the -violence of the outburst when the barrier once is broken.” - -“I will go to the office today, secure some private documents and notify -Mr. Dunlap that I desire to withdraw at once from the firm of J. Dunlap. -I will nerve myself for one more act in the farce. I will don the costume -in which I paraded the stage so long for one more occasion.” - -Burton arose slowly from his recumbent position as if reluctant to resume -even for a day a character that had become tiresome and obnoxious to his -negro nature. - - * * * * * - -David Chapman had on several occasions made suggestions to the head of -the Police Department in Boston that had resulted in the detection and -apprehension of elusive criminals. Unlike many professional detectives, -Chief O’Brien welcomed the aid of amateurs and listened respectfully -to theories, sometimes ridiculous, but occasionally suggestive of the -correct solution of an apparently incomprehensible crime. - -The deductive method of solving the problem of a mysterious crime -employed by Chapman was not alone interesting to the Chief of Detectives, -but appeared wonderful in the correctness of the conclusions obtained. -He therefore gave eager attention to what Chapman communicated to -him while seated in the Chief’s private office on the evening of the -day that Burton visited the office of J. Dunlap to secure his private -correspondence and documents. - -“In the first place, Chief, as soon as I learned the details of this -Malloy crime, I decided that the perpetrator of it was of the negro -race,” said Chapman, methodically arranging a number of slips of paper -on the Chief’s desk, at which he sat confronting O’Brien on the opposite -side. - -“How did you arrive at that decision?” said the detective. - -“Well, as you are aware, for you laughed at me often enough when you ran -across me with my black associates, I ‘slummed’ among the negroes for -months to gain some knowledge of the negro nature”. - -“Yes, I know that and often wondered at your persistent prosecution of -such a disagreeable undertaking,” said O’Brien. - -“I learned in that investigation that beneath the surface of careless, -thoughtless gaiety and good nature there lies a tremendous amount of -cruelty and brutal savagery in the negro nature; that dire results have -been caused by a misconception of the negro character on this point to -those associated with them; that while sensual satiety produces lassitude -in other races, in the negro race it engenders a lust for blood that -almost invariably results in the murder of the victim of a brutal attack. -I checked the correctness of my conclusions by an examination of all -obtainable records and completely verified the accuracy of my deduction.” - -“That had not occurred to me before,” said the Chief frankly; “now that -you mention it, I think from the record of that crime, as it recurs to me -at this moment, that your statement is true.” - -“The next step was to look for the particular individual of the negro -race who could fit in with the trifling evidence in your possession, -which you so readily submitted to me. From the mold taken by your men -of the criminal’s foot-prints it is evident that his feet were small -and clad in expensive shoes. In the shape of the imprints I find -corroboration of my premise that the author of the crime was of the negro -race. The fragment of finger nail embedded in the girl’s throat, under a -microscope reveals the fact that, while the nail was not free from dirt, -it had recently been under the manipulation of a manicure and was not -of thick, coarse grain like a manual laborer’s nails,” said the amateur -detective glancing at his notes. - -“Yes, I agree in all that, Mr. Chapman. Go ahead; what follows?” remarked -O’Brien. - -“We have then a negro, but one not engaged in the usual employment of -the negro residents in Boston, to look for; next you found clutched in -the fingers of the dead girl two threads of brownish color and coarse -material, together with a fragment of paper like a part of an envelope on -which was written a few notes of music.” - -“Yes, and I defy the devil to make anything result from such -infinitesimal particles of evidence,” exclaimed the professional -detective. - -“Well, I’m not the devil.” said Chapman, quietly proceeding to -recapitulate the process adopted by him. - -“From the few notes—you know that I am something of a musician—I began, -_poco a poco_, as they say in music, to reconstruct the tune of which -the few notes were a part. As I proceeded, going over the notes time and -again on my violoncello, I became convinced that I had heard that wild -tune before, and am now able to say where and when.” - -“Wonderful, perfectly wonderful if you can, Chapman,” cried the -thoroughly interested Chief. - -“What next?” O’Brien asked, impatient at the calmness of the man on the -opposite side of the desk. - -“To-day I saw the finger that the fragment of nail found in the girl’s -neck would fit, and one finger-nail had been broken and was gone,” -continued Chapman, by great effort restraining the evidence of the -exultation that he felt. - -“Where, man, where? And whose was the hand?” gasped O’Brien. - -“Wait a moment! Upon reflection I realized that the only part of a man’s -apparel likely to give way in a desperate struggle would be a coat -pocket; that the hand of the girl had grasped the edge of the pocket and -in so doing had closed upon an old envelope in the pocket, which was torn -and remained in her hand with a couple of threads from the cloth of the -coat when the murderer finally wrenched the coat out of her lifeless -fingers.” - -“Quite likely,” exclaimed the Chief impatiently. - -“But hurry along, man,” urged the officer. - -“This afternoon I examined under the most powerful microscope procurable -in Boston the threads that your assistant has in safe keeping. I -recognized the color and material of which those threads are made. I know -the coat whence the threads came, and the owner of the coat,” declared -Chapman emphatically. - -“His name,” almost yelled the astonished detective. - -“David Chapman,” was the cool and triumphant reply. - -The Chief glared at the exultant amateur with wonder, in which a doubt of -the man’s sanity was mingled. - -“It is the coat of the suit I wore while ‘slumming’ in my investigations -concerning the negro race. It has hung in my private closet in the office -until some time within the last two months, when it was abstracted by -some one having keys to the private offices of J. Dunlap. Mr. Dunlap, -Walter Burton and I alone possess such keys. Burton, like me, is tall and -slim, the suit will fit him; Burton is of the negro race; I heard Burton -play the tune of which the few notes are part when I went to his house on -the only occasion that I ever visited the ‘Eyrie;’ Burton’s shoes—I tried -an old one today which was left at the office some months ago—exactly -fit the tracks left by the murderer. Burton having no suit that he could -wear as a disguise while rambling the streets in search of adventure, -found and appropriated my old ‘slumming’ suit. You will find that suit, -blood-stained, the coat pocket torn, now hidden somewhere in the ‘Eyrie’ -if it be not destroyed. Walter Burton is guilty of the Malloy assault -and murder!” Chapman had risen from his chair, his face was aflame with -vindictiveness and passion, his small eyes blazing with satisfied hatred -as he almost yelled, in his excitement, the denunciation of Burton. - -“Great God! man, it can’t be,” gasped the Chief of Detectives, saying as -he regained his breath, - -“Burton and the Dunlaps are not people to make mistakes with in such a -horrible case as this.” - -“Burton has withdrawn from our firm. He has provided himself with a large -sum of currency. He is leaving the country. Tomorrow night he dines -with Mr. Dunlap to complete the arrangements for the severance of his -relations with the house of J. Dunlap. Captain Jack Dunlap will dine with -Mr. Dunlap on that occasion, and I shall be there to draw up any papers -required. The coast will be clear at the ‘Eyrie;’ go there upon the -pretext of arresting Victor, Burton’s valet, on the charge of larceny; -search throughout the premises; if you find the garments, and the coat -is in the condition I describe, come at once to the Dunlap mansion and -arrest the murderer, or it will be too late, the bird will have flown.” -The veins in Chapman’s brow and neck were fairly bursting through the -skin, so intense were the passion and vehemence of the man who, straining -forward, shouted out directions to the detective. - -O’Brien sat for several minutes in silence, buried in deep meditation, -glancing ever and anon at Chapman, who, chafing with impatience, fairly -danced before the desk. The official arose and, walking to the window, -stood for some time gazing out upon the lighted street below. Suddenly he -turned and came back to Chapman, whom he held by the lapel of the coat, -while he said, - -“Chapman, I know that you hate Burton. I know also of your fidelity to -the Dunlaps. You would never have told this to me, even as much as you -hate Burton, if it were not true. This disclosure and disgrace, if it be -as you suspect, will wound those dear to you.” - -This phase of the situation had evidently not occurred to David Chapman -in his zeal for satisfaction to his all-consuming hatred of Burton. He -dropped his eyes, nervously clasped and unclasped his hands, while his -face paled as he faltered out, - -“Well—maybe you had best not act upon my suggestions; I may be all wrong.” - -“There, Mr. Chapman, is where I can’t agree with you. I am a sworn -officer of this commonwealth, and, by heavens! I would arrest the -governor of the state if I knew it to be my duty. Not all the money of -the Dunlaps or in the whole of Massachusetts could prevent me from laying -my hand on Walter Burton and placing him under arrest for the murder of -the Malloy girl, if I find the clothing you mention in the condition you -describe. I shall wait to make the search at the ‘Eyrie’ until tomorrow -night, that if there be a mistake it shall not be an irreparable one,” -said the conscientious Chief of Detectives sternly, in a determined tone -of voice. - -“But I may be mistaken,” urged the agitated amateur detective. - -“You have convinced me that there are grounds for your statements; I know -them now, and, knowing them, by my oath of office, must take action,” -quietly replied O’Brien. - -“Then promise to keep my connection with the case a secret, except what -may be required of me as a witness subpoenaed to appear and testify,” -cried the now remorseful Chapman. - -“That I will, and readily too, as it is but a small favor in comparison -to the great aid you have been to our department, and is not in conflict -with my duty. I shall also collect and hand over to you all of the -reward.” - -“Never mind the reward; keep it for your pension fund,” replied the -regretful Superintendent of J. Dunlap, who had played detective once too -often and too well for his own peace of mind. - - - - -XIX - - -Never had there assembled beneath the roof of the Dunlap mansion since -the old house was constructed, a company so entirely uncomfortable as -that around the table in the library on the night that Walter Burton -dined for the last time with Mr. Dunlap. - -John Dunlap’s mind was filled with doubts concerning what was his duty -with regard to Burton, having due consideration for the memory of his -deceased brother, and as to what would have been the wish of that beloved -brother under existing circumstances. Recognizing, as John Dunlap did, -the influence that his personal antipathy for Burton had upon his -conduct, he was nervous and uncomfortable. - -Burton felt the restraint imposed upon him irksome, even for the time of -this brief and final visit to the home where his best emotions had been -aroused, and the purest delights of his artificial existence enjoyed. He -was anxious to be gone, to be free, to forget, and was impatient of delay. - -Jack Dunlap, pale and somewhat thin, still carrying his arm bound to -his breast, felt the weight of the responsibility resting upon him in -releasing Lucy’s husband from a promise that for months had held him near -her should the husband’s presence be required at any moment, and was -correspondingly silent and meditative. - -Nervous, expectant and fearful, David Chapman sat only half attentive -to what was said or done around him. His ears were strained to catch -the first sound that announced the coming of the visitors which he now -dreaded. - -“The terms of the settlement of my interest in your house, Mr. Dunlap, -are entirely too liberal to me, and I only accept them because of my -anxiety to be freed from the cares of business at the earliest possible -moment, and am unwilling to await the report of examining accountants,” -said Walter Burton as he glanced over the paper submitted to him by -Chapman. - -“Do you expect to leave the city at once?” asked Mr. Dunlap in a -hesitating, doubtful voice. - -“Yes, I will make a tour through the Southern States, probably go to -California and may return and take a trip to Europe. I have promised -Captain Dunlap to keep your house informed of my movements and address at -all times, and shall immediately respond, by promptly returning, if my -presence in Boston be called for,” replied Burton. - -“I confess, Burton, that my mind is not free from doubt as to the -propriety of allowing you to withdraw from our house. I should like to -act as my brother James would have done. His wishes are as binding upon -me now as when he lived,” said Mr. Dunlap in a low and troubled voice. - -“It is needless to rehearse the painful story of the last few months, -Mr. Dunlap. Had your brother lived he must have perceived the total -vanity of some of his most cherished wishes regarding the union of his -granddaughter and myself. Heirs to his name and estate must be impossible -from that union under the unalterable conditions. My wife’s dementia and -her irrational aversion to my presence would have influenced him as it -does you and me, and—I might as well say it—I am aware of the fact and -realize the naturalness of the sentiment. I am _persona non grata_ here.” - -There was a tinge of bitterness in the closing sentence and Burton -accompanied it with a defiant manner that evinced much concealed -resentment. - -As Burton ceased speaking, the eyes of the four men sitting at the table -turned to the door, hearing it open. The footman who had opened it had -hardly crossed the threshold when he was pushed aside by the firm hand of -Chief of Detectives O’Brien, who, in full uniform, followed by a man in -citizens’ dress carrying a bundle under his arm, entered the room. - -Mr. Dunlap hurriedly arose and advancing with outstretched hand exclaimed, - -“Why! Chief, this is an unexpected pleasure—” - -“Mr. Dunlap, stop a moment.” There was a look in the official’s eyes that -froze Mr. Dunlap’s welcome on his lips and nailed him to the spot on -which he stood. Chapman glanced at Burton, on whom O’Brien’s gaze was -fastened. Burton had risen and stood trembling like an aspen leaf without -a single shade of color left in cheeks or lips. Jack Dunlap’s face -flushed somewhat indignantly as he rose and walked forward to the side of -his kinsman. - -“With all due regard for that high respect I entertain for you, Mr. -Dunlap, it has become my painful duty to enter your house tonight in my -official capacity and arrest one accused of the most serious crime known -to the law.” While O’Brien was speaking he moved toward the table, never -removing his eyes from Burton. - -“What do you mean, sir?” cried Jack in a wrathful voice, interposing -himself between O’Brien and the table. - -“Stand aside, Captain Dunlap!” said the Chief sternly. Quickly stepping -to Burton’s side and placing his hand on his shoulder he said, - -“Walter Burton, I arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth, on the -charge of murder.” - -With a movement too quick even for a glance to catch, the Chief jerked -Burton’s hands together and snapped a pair of handcuffs on the wrists of -the rapidly collapsing man. - -The eyes of all present were fixed, in stupified amazement, on O’Brien -and Burton, and had not seen what stood in the open doorway until a low -moan caused Jack to turn his head. He saw then the figure of Lucy slowly -sinking to the floor. - -Lucy in her wanderings about the house was passing through the hall when -the uniformed officer entered. Attracted by the unusual spectacle of a -man in a blue coat ornamented with brass buttons, she had followed the -policeman and overheard all that he had said, and seen what he had done. - -“I will furnish bail in any amount, O’Brien,” exclaimed Mr. Dunlap, -staying the two officers by stepping before them as they almost carried -Burton, unable to walk, from the room. - -“Please stand aside, Mr. Dunlap,” said the Chief kindly. - -“Don’t make it harder than it is now for me to do my duty,” and gently -pushing the old gentleman aside, O’Brien and his assistant bore Burton -from the library and the Dunlap mansion. - -“Help me, quick! Lucy has fainted!” called Jack, who, crippled as he was, -could not raise the unconscious wife of Burton. - -When Mr. Dunlap reached Jack’s bending figure, Lucy opened her eyes, -gazed about wildly for an instant, gasped for breath as if suffocating, -and suddenly sprang unassisted to her feet, as if shot upward by some -hidden mechanism. - -“Walter! My husband! Where is he? Where is grandfather? What has -happened?” she cried out, in a confused way, as one just aroused from a -sound sleep. - -Jack and Mr. Dunlap stared at her for a moment in wonderment; then -something in her eyes gave them the gladsome tidings, in this their hour -of greatest trouble, that reason had resumed its sway over loved Lucy’s -mind; she was restored to sanity. The shock had been to her heart and -restored her senses, as a similar shock had deprived her of them. The -experts had predicted correctly. - -“Walter is in trouble, danger. I heard that policeman say murder! Save my -husband, Jack! Uncle John! Where is my grandfather?” - -Jack finally gathered enough of his scattered composure to reply somehow -to the excited young woman. He said all that he dared say so soon after -the return of reason to her distracted head. - -“Be calm, Cousin Lucy! Your grandfather is absent from the city. You have -been ill. Your Uncle John and I will do all in our power to aid Walter if -he be in danger.” - -She turned her eyes toward her Uncle John and regarded him steadily for -the space of a minute, and then she whirled about and faced Jack, crying -out in clear and ringing tones, - -“I will not trust Uncle John. He dislikes Walter and always has, but you! -you, Jack Dunlap, I trust next to my God and my good grandfather. Will -you promise to aid Walter?” - -“I promise, Lucy. Now be calm,” said Jack gently. - -There was no madness now in Lucy’s bright, gleaming, hazel eyes; womanly -anxiety as a wife was superb in its earnestness. She was grand, sublime -as with the majestic grace of a queen of tragedy she swept close to her -cousin, then raising herself to her greatest height, with her hand -extended upward, pointing to heaven, she commanded as a sovereign might -have done. - -“Swear to me, Jack Dunlap, by God above us and your sacred honor, that -you will stop at nothing in the effort to save my husband. Swear!” - -“I swear,” said the sailor simply as he raised his hand. - -The woman’s manner, speech, and the scene did not seem strange to -those who stood about her. She was suddenly aroused to reason to find -the object of her tenderest love in direst danger; her stay, prop and -reliance, her grandfather, unaccountably absent. In that trying stress of -circumstances, the intensity of the feeling within her wrought-up soul -found expression in excessive demands and exaggerated attitudes. - -“Now go! my Jack; hurry after Walter and help him,” she urged as with -nervous hands she pushed him toward the door. - -Next morning, when the newspapers made the startling announcement that -a member of the firm of J. Dunlap, Boston’s oldest and wealthiest -business house, had been arrested on the charge of that nameless crime -and the murder of the Malloy girl, the entire city was stunned by the -intelligence. - -A crowd quickly gathered around the city jail. Threatful mutterings -were heard as the multitude increased in numbers about the prison. When -Malloy came and his neighbors clustered about the infuriated father of -the outraged victim, that slow and slumbering wrath that lies beneath the -calm, deceptive surface of the New England character began to make itself -evident. “Tear down the gates!” “Lynch the fiend,” and such expressions -were heard among the men, momentarily growing louder, as the cool -exterior of the Northern nature gave away. - -Soon many seafaring men were seen moving among the most excited of the -mob, saying as they passed from one group to another, “It’s not true! You -know the Dunlaps too well!” “Keep quiet, it’s a lie!” “Dunlap offered a -reward for the arrest of the villain; it can’t be as the papers say!” - -One sailor-man, who carried a crippled arm, mounted a box and made a -speech, telling the people there must be a mistake and begging them -to be quiet. When he said that his name was Dunlap, the seafaring men -began to cheer for “Skipper Jack,” and the mob joined in. Seeing one of -the Dunlap name so calm, honest and brave in their very midst, the mob -began to doubt, and shaking their heads the people moved gradually away -and dispersed, persuaded that naught connected with the worthy Dunlap -name could cause such foul wrong and disgrace to the Commonwealth of -Massachusetts. - -The best legal talent of New England was retained that day for the -defense of Burton. When they had examined the circumstantial evidence -against Burton they frankly told Jack Dunlap that an alibi, positively -established, alone could save the accused man. - -The unselfish sailor sought the seclusion of his cabin on board his ship, -that lay at anchor in the harbor, there to ponder over the terrible -information given him by the leading lawyers of Boston. - -Uncomplainingly the man had resigned his hope of the greatest joy that -could come to his strong, unselfish soul—Lucy’s love. For the sake of -her whom he loved he had concealed his suffering. He had smothered the -sorrow that well nigh wrenched the heart out of his bosom, that he might -minister to her in the hour of her mental affliction. He had shed his -blood in shielding with his breast the man whom she had selected in his -stead. All this he had done as ungrudgingly and gladly as he had tended -her slightest bidding when as wee maid she had ruled him. - -Love demanded of this great heart the final and culminating sacrifice. -Could he, would he offer up his honor on the altar of his love? - -To this knight by right of nature, honor and truth were dearer far than -his blood or his life. Would he surrender the one prize he cherished -highest for his hopeless love’s sake? - - “I will swear that you were aboard my ship with me every hour - of the night on which the crime of which you stand accused - was committed. An absolute alibi alone can save you. May - God forgive you! May God forgive me! and may the people of - Massachusetts pardon - - Perjured Jack Dunlap.” - -Such was the letter sent by the sailor, by well paid and trusty hand, -to the successful suitor for Lucy’s hand, now closely mewed within the -prison walls of Boston’s strongest jail. - -Could any man’s love be greater than the love of him who sent that -letter? - - - - -XX - - -The court room was crowded, not only by the casual visitors to such -places, who are ever in search of satisfaction to their morbid curiosity, -but also by the most fashionable of Boston’s elite society. - -The preliminary examination in the case of the Commonwealth vs. Walter -Burton was on the docket for hearing that day. - -Nearly a month had elapsed since the arrest; all that an unlimited amount -of money could accomplish had been done to ameliorate the terrible -position of the prisoner. More than a million dollars was offered in bail -for the accused, and it was hoped that by a preliminary examination such -a strong probability of the establishment of an alibi could be presented, -that the Court would make an order permitting the acceptance of bail for -the appearance of the accused after the report of the Grand Jury. - -Neither old John Dunlap nor Burton’s wife was present. Jack had insisted -that they must not be in the court-room when he was called upon to give -his evidence. - -Lieutenant Thomas Maxon, bronzed, stalwart, and serious, sat beside his -friend Jack Dunlap among the witnesses for the defense. - -With a face of ghastly white, Jack Dunlap, his arm still in a sling, -stared straight before him, heedless of the stir and flutter around -him while the audience was waiting the appearance of the judge and the -accused. - -There was a look of desperate resolve and defiance on Burton’s face as -he entered the court-room between two officers and took his seat at the -counsel table behind the lawyers who appeared for the defense. - -The prosecuting attorney proceeded, when the case was called, to present -the case for the Commonwealth with the coldness and emotionless precision -that marks the movements of an expert surgeon as he digs and cuts among -the vitals of a subject on the operating table. - -Chapman was much embarrassed and very nervous on the witness stand; -his testimony was fairly dragged from his livid, unwilling lips; he -interjected every doubt and possible suspicion that might weigh against -his evidence and weaken the case of the Commonwealth. When he left the -stand he staggered like one intoxicated as he walked back to his seat -among the witnesses. - -When the case of the people was closed, the leading counsel for the -defense, one most learned in the law, arose and, making a few well-chosen -introductory remarks, turned to a bailiff and said, - -“Call Captain John Dunlap.” - -For the first time in his life Jack Dunlap seemed afraid to look men in -the eyes. Neither glancing right nor left, he strode with a determined -air to the witness stand and took his seat. His face wore the hue of -death. His jaws were so clamped together that they seemed to crush his -teeth between them. - -They asked his name, age and occupation and then his whereabout on the -night of the crime for which the prisoner stood accused. - -The witness made answer briefly to each of these questions without -removing his gaze from the wall above the heads of the audience, and -seemed collecting himself for an ordeal yet to come. - -“Who was with you on board your ship, the ‘Adams,’ that night?” was the -next question of the lawyer for the defense. - -“Stop! Do not answer, Jack!” came in clear, commanding tones from the -mouth of the prisoner as he sprang to his feet. His lawyers about him -tried to pull him down into his chair, but he struggled and shook himself -free and stood where all could see him. - -Burton looked around him defiantly at the assembled crowd in the -court-room, holding up his hand with palm turned toward Jack, in protest -against his giving answer to the last question. Then, throwing back his -head, he said in a loud and steady voice, - -“I must and do protest against this further sacrifice in my behalf on -the part of that noble, generous, grand man on the stand. Already he has -far exceeded the belief of the most credulous in sacrificing himself for -those whom he loves. That I may prevent this last and grandest offering, -the honor of that brave man, I tell you all that I am guilty of the -crime as charged, and further, I hurl into your teeth the fact that by -your accursed affectation of social equality between the White and Negro -races, which can never exist, you are responsible in part for my crime, -and you are wholly answerable for much agony to the most innocent and -blameless of mortals on earth. Your canting, maudlin, sentimental cry of -social intercourse between the races has caused wrong, suffering, sorrow, -crime, and now causes my death.” - -As Burton ceased speaking he swiftly threw a powder between his lips and -quickly swallowed it. - -The audience, judge, lawyers, bailiffs, all sat still, chained in a -trance of astonishment as the accused man uttered this unexpected -phillipic against a sometime tradition of New England, and likewise -pronounced his guilt by this open and voluntary confession. - -None seemed to realize that the prisoner’s speech was also his -valedictory to life, until they saw him reel, and, ere the nearest man -could reach him, fall, face downward, upon the court-room floor, dead. - -Like the last ray of the setting sun, Burton’s expiring speech and deed -had been the parting gleam of the nobility begotten by the blood of the -superior race within his veins, and reflected on the bright surface of -the civilization and culture of the white race. The predominance of -animalism in the negro nature precludes the possibility of suicide in -even the extremest cases of conscious debasement. Suicide is almost -unknown among the negro race. - - * * * * * - -“Chapman found dead at his desk in the office! My God! What more must I -bear in my old age! Oh! God, have mercy upon an old man!” - -Poor old John Dunlap fell upon Jack’s shoulder and wept from very -weakness and misery, and so the sailor supported and held him until the -paroxysm of wretchedness had passed; then he gently led the broken old -gentleman to the easiest chair in the parlor of the Dunlap house and -begged him to sit down and compose his overwrought feelings. - -“You say, Jack, that the porter found him seated at his desk this -morning; that he thought he was sleeping, as my faithful employee’s head -rested on his arms, and that it was only when he touched him and noticed -how cold he was that he realized that Chapman was dead. My God! How -awful!” groaned the distressed speaker. - -“Yes, sir, and when the head clerks of the different departments -arrived and raised him they saw lying on his desk before him ready for -publication the notice of the closing of the business career of the house -of J. Dunlap, and they took from the dead man’s stiffened fingers the -long record of the firm to which he clung even in death.” - -“I saw the poor fellow’s face grow pale and his features twitch as if in -pain when I told him that the career of our house was ended. I urged him -to rest here until he was better, but he only shook his head and hurried -from my presence.” - -Mr. Dunlap spoke sadly and after a pause of several minutes, during which -an expression of deepest melancholy settled over his countenance, he -continued sorrowfully, - -“Poor David Chapman, good and faithful servant! He loved the old house -of ‘J. Dunlap’ with all of his soul, and when he knew that the end had -come, it broke that intense heart of his.” - -“Why did you determine, sir, to take the old sign down, and close those -doors that for two hundred years have stood open every day except -holidays?” asked Jack, full of sympathy for the grief-stricken kinsman -beside him. - -“I cannot bear the sight of my loved boyhood’s home, dear old Boston, at -present. It has been the scene of so much agony and horror for me within -the past year that I must, for my own sake, get away from the agonizing -associations all about me here. Lucy absolutely must be taken away now -that her mind is restored to its normal condition, or she will surely go -mad from weeping and grieving. As soon as she is able to travel we shall -go to Europe to be absent months,—years. I am an old man, maybe I shall -never see Boston again.” The old man stopped to choke back a sob and then -said, - -“It is hard, very hard, on me that I should be obliged to close the house -my brother James loved so well, and that has been a glory to the Dunlap -name for two centuries. It may break my heart, too, lad.” - -The white head sunk on the heaving chest and an audible sob now shook the -bended frame. Jack watched his good godfather with manly tears filling -his honest eyes. Then, laying his hand softly on the old man’s arm, he -said, - -“Cousin John, would you feel less wretched if I promised to leave the -sea, and do my best to keep the old sign, ‘J. Dunlap,’ in its place in -the crooked street where it has hung for two hundred years?” - -John Dunlap raised his head almost as soon as his namesake began to -speak, and when Jack had finished he had him around the neck and was -hugging the sturdy sailor, crying all the time, - -“God bless you, boy! Will you do that for your old kinsman? Will you, -lad?” And then wringing Jack’s hand he cried, - -“A young J. Dunlap succeeds the old; all the ships, trade and the capital -remain as before! You and Lucy are sole heirs to everything! The chief -clerks will shout for joy to know that the house still goes on; they will -help you faithfully for love of my brother James and me. And oh! Jack, -when I am far away it will make my heart beat easier to know that the -Dunlap red ball barred with black still floats upon the ocean, and that -the old sign is still here; that I was not the one of my long line to -take it from its place.” - - - - -EPILOGUE. - - -Five times has Boston Common, old, honored in history’s story, slept -beneath its snowy counterpane, all damaskeened by winter sunbeam’s glory. - -Five times have brooks in Yankee vales burst icy chains to flee, with -gladsome shouts of merriment, on joyous journey to the sea. - -Five times have Massachusetts hills and dales been garbed in cloak of -emerald, embroidered wide in gay designs of daffodils and daisies since -the grand old Commonwealth was shocked by the commission of a horrid -crime by one called Burton. - -An old sign still swings before an even older building, in one of -Boston’s most crooked streets. “J. Dunlap, Shipping and Banking,” is what -the passersby may read on the old sign. - -Sometimes an old man is seen to enter the building above the door of -which is suspended this sign; he is much bent and white of hair, but -sturdy still, despite some four-score years. All men of Boston accord -great respect to this handsome old gentleman. - -The man who is head and manager of all the business done within the old -building where that sign is seen, has the tanned and rugged look of one -who had long gazed upon the bright surface of the sea. While he is only -seen in landsmen’s dress, it seems that clothing of a nautical cut would -best befit his stalwart figure. - -This head man at J. Dunlap’s office is cavalier-in-chief to three old -ladies, with whom he often is seen driving in Boston’s beautiful suburbs; -one of these white-haired old dames he addresses as “Mother,” another -as “Mrs. Church,” and the most withered one of the three he calls “Miss -Arabella.” - -He has been seen, too, with a sweet, sad, yet very lovely young woman in -whose glorious crown of gold-brown hair silver silken threads run in and -out. - -[Illustration: “Lucy, I have always loved you.” - -Page 340] - -A big, jovial naval man periodically drives up before the old sign and -shouting out, “Jack, come here and see the latest!” exhibits a baby to -the sailor-looking manager. The last time he roared in greatest glee, -“It’s a girl, named Bessie, for her mother.” - -Kind harvest moon, send forth your tenderest glances, that fall betwixt -the tall elm’s branches on that sad, sweet face that lies so restfully -against a sailor’s loyal bosom. - -“Lucy, I have always loved you!” Jack Dunlap kissed his “Little Princess” -and put his strong arms around her. - -Everlasting time, catch up those words, and bear them on forever, as -motto of most faithful lover. - -An old man, standing at a window in the Dunlap mansion, watched the man -and woman in the moonlight between the elm trees, and what he witnessed -seemed to bring a great joy to his good, kind heart, for he reverently -raised his eyes to heaven and said, - -“My God, I thank Thee!” - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Blood Will Tell, by Benj. 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