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Mdocorr msoiUTKm ibi chait 
 
 (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAIIT No. 2| 
 
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A MODERnTI 
 A PO L LOS 
 
 By ROBERT McINTYRE 
 
 Author of "A, K„j, c..<llt.U,h, •■ 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS 
 Toronto 
 
Ondnuli 
 
 JENNINGS at PYE 
 Chicago 
 
 EATON « MAINS 
 N«w Vo.k 
 
 Kauui City 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. Thi CoHiUDn QvAun. j 
 
 II. Thi Sracrn or thi Mm, .... „ 
 
 III. TH« HohI or THE ROMAHI .... j| 
 
 IV, FmiON Doom aii Ormo .... j^ 
 V. Love's Vovno Deeam (^ 
 
 VI. How the Medal was Won .... |, 
 
 VII. BeVIELY AT THE CoHmENCS ol 
 
 VIII. IH BlEKEV's STOEE „j 
 
 DC. The Fieit Seehoh i,j 
 
 X. A BAITU WITH GMOIIU ... |,j 
 
 XI. THE MaJOE is KiyECTlD I4J 
 
 XII. The Feeachee IH FEEit .... |«i 
 
 XIII. "The MiMTY" uCaftueed .... 175 
 
 XIV. A STOtEH LETTU Ig] 
 
 XV. SiNNEE McLaw SriAXI 108 
 
 XVI. All OirtiAW's Death uo 
 
 t 
 
4 
 xva 
 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Contents 
 
 A SocL's SnvaoLx 
 
 TiM C«u«n.AU Ml Takbi . 
 
 TkI COloHU. tS RiSTDRID 
 
 Am iNTnitinno Widdino . 
 B*»BA«* Lawsos Aw-jcrao 
 
 On FOUY ISUND . 
 
 Ui;«AMcUwASALlADl« . 
 A Ma« TkANSFOWtD . 
 
 A MoNCTAitY Panic . 
 
 ■HM ruoHI TO SCOTLAKD . 
 
 A Lovn's QuisT 
 ■ftu Ehd of thi Stokt 
 
 VACS 
 3X1 
 
 »5J 
 
 361 
 269 
 J85 
 
 »99 
 
 311 
 3*1 
 XH 
 353 
 3«t 
 
A Modern Apollos 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The Comrades Quarrel 
 
 'T'HE long Civil War was ended, and the city 
 -L of Washington was gay with the glory of the 
 grand review. The Army of the Potomac, the 
 Army of the Tennessee, and the Army of the Cum- 
 berland were united for the last march before the 
 rneltmg of the mightiest host of volunteers that 
 this world has seen. 
 
 For days the North had poured its visitors into 
 the Capitol to greet the returtjing heroes. Ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful was the historic town in all its 
 bravery of laughing banners and rippling pennants. 
 1 he walls of the broad avenue were like a canyon 
 of color waiting for the river of blue which was 
 to stream solidly between its banks. 
 
 People smiled from balcony and gallery. From 
 
 window and cornice, portico and mansard, they 
 
 waved the flags and shook out the streamers where 
 
 the expectant rows and groups of men, women, 
 
 S 
 
A Modern ApoIIos 
 
 length, domed w«h the sapphire sky and paved 
 S waX:."""^ '' '"^ "'"^'^ "*'- '"e nfarch- 
 mth'L'l^^r'^^T'"^"'' '"■■""8 'he multitude 
 standing on the black guns and holding their fa- 
 .gue caps to catch the showers of blossoms. Even 
 
 I triulh°^" ''""'? *° ""•^"'"'"'' '"at it was 
 a tnumphal joumey; for they shook their stormy 
 
 *1,;k .!?. }^'^ '" "• '°°-" Unhesitatingly into 
 whee^d to place on the grim edge of war. Now 
 gentle Peace was herding them to a corral, where 
 
 wW .T ''"''^ ""'' '""^"^ """ f-i'^d, from 
 whence the war trumpet would summon th;m no 
 
 • •'^"", V'^*«i""y came the cavalry, filling the 
 C.V.C gulch from curb to curb. Jinging spurs 
 c attering sabers, made stern musi^ a! tTeyTode 
 
 h,T% uT^ *"' "'^"'"^- *"'! '°"'^ w"e weak; 
 but all had determined to ride that day, if never 
 
 dons frayed, the blue blouses faded, and the cans 
 raised to return a salute to the coumless hurrahs 
 were hmp and dusty. "Welcome home I Welcome 
 homel roared ten thousand throats as the gallant 
 rTd^s'aT ''■ J"^ '=°"<'""°" thought of ci 
 
 Ian tL t " ,": '"' ^^"'^ *='"=" °f '"« bayou 
 lap the knees of the cypress-trees; and sighs went 
 upward with the shouts. 
 
 Then a cheer that heaved the dome of the 
 
The Comrades Quarrel 7 
 
 Capitol and shook the firmamental arch hushed 
 every sound as past the reviewing-stand swept the 
 infantry, the battered bulwark of the Nation, the 
 braves who built the barrier of steel round Co- 
 lumbia in the hour of peril, and went out to meet 
 death as children go a-Maying, exultant to lay 
 the supreme sacrifice on the altar of their country. 
 
 Splintering the slanting sunbeams into slivers 
 of splendor on their bayonets, they tramped along 
 with rhythmic footfall, every step rhyming in per- 
 fect cadence to the rolling drums. AUhough they 
 looked up, they saw not the faces bent above 
 them. Instead, with moist eyes, through the lenses 
 of their tears, they saw other women and other 
 children, in the woods of Maine and the pine-for- 
 ests of Michigan, in Vermont valleys and Hoosier 
 intervales, in populous towns and far-spread farms. 
 
 In prairie homes and upland cottages, in moun- 
 tain cabins and frontier ranches, they saw moth- 
 ers, wives, sweethearts, waiting for them. In 
 every eye was the light of home and on every lip 
 they sang, "We 're going home to-morrow I" ri.ey 
 felt this was but the foretaste of the feast they 
 would enjoy when the grateful Nation, standing 
 with arms outheld, should fold her dutiful sons to 
 her heart. 
 
 When the day was done, the weary men par- 
 took gratefully of the good things provided on 
 every hand, and broke into groups to say good- 
 bye — a word not lightly spoken among men who 
 had fronted danger together, and whose souls had 
 been smelted in the furnace of war. 
 
 Colonel Satterlee, beloved by all his men, was 
 
8 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 wen h!. f ^""P r**" *'" '''<**"S him fare- 
 well H.S face wore the friendliest of smiles, and 
 ^s eyes beamed brightly despite his sixty years. 
 Nothing escaped hi, notice, and while he was talk- 
 ing with the men, he was watching one of them 
 m particular, a young, well set-up officer named 
 Whs-tall, agile, and graceful, with a sleiider 
 handsome face, black hair and mustache. He was 
 known as the gritt^iest and most fiery soldier in the 
 One Hundred and Third Regiment, 
 th/!!!!!" ^"'' *« ''ending in silence apart from 
 the others. His handsome head was slightly 
 bowed and he seemed to be thinking deeply. Sud^ 
 denly he felt an arm slipped into his, and heard 
 the Colonels gemal "Hello, Captain," befor. he 
 could turn around. 
 
 ^oin. 1, ''^ '° ^'"'"- °°""'' the home- 
 going make you gay ?" 
 
 "There is no home-going for me. Colonel." 
 And why not?" 
 
 "For one sufficient reason, sir ; I have no home 
 i was at my earliest recollection, an orphan in 
 an asylum. I was educated in a college built by 
 
 out/hX??' I''"" '" "f^- ^het. I came 
 !.-'/., 1^ '"'''= ''"' 'he war was on, and I 
 enhsted This regiment has been my onll home 
 smce hen. Four years I have lived'^in it' and I 
 have learned to love it. The tent has been my 
 habitation, the campfire my hearthstone. Now 
 't is breaking up, and I have nowhere to go I 
 am like a sailor who feels his ship going to pieces 
 under ms feet, and sees the water creeping over 
 
The Comrades Quarrel 9 
 
 his sandals. I have swept the circle of my small 
 career, and end where I began twenty-four years 
 ago— alone in the world ; nothing more." 
 
 "Surely," said the Colonel, "there is some 
 place you would like to see, some face that would 
 shme to see you return." 
 
 ..Ji^°\^"' "°' °"*'" fetufied the Captain. 
 When I watched the boys reading letters from 
 home, I often felt as if I did not care if I fell in 
 the next fight. And now, whether I go East or 
 West is all the same to me. Not k :ouI on earth 
 cares .f I never come back." And the young man, 
 half ashamed of his confession, started to move 
 away; but the Colonel's hand on his arm de- 
 tamed him. 
 
 "Nonsense, Phil, rank nonsense! What is 
 your trade ?" 
 
 "I am a typesetter, a newspaper compositor, 
 and was reckoned a speedy one, and steady when 
 I worked at the case in our school." 
 
 "Well, then," returned the Colonel, "it will 
 take you a few months to look around and settle 
 mto a job. I want you to come home with me, 
 will you?" ' 
 
 "No, sir; lean not accept your hospitality I 
 have saved my pay, and have a few thousand. 
 i 11 go somewhere and cut in with strangers." 
 
 "Why do you refuse?" 
 
 "Simply because I have no claim on you or 
 yours." 
 
 "Phil, hush I Do you remember that day at 
 Chancellorsville when I fell under my horse, stun- 
 ned and crippled, and our men were swept back by 
 
lO 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 tae enemy's double-shotted battery that opened 
 on us from the woods? Who hauled that brute 
 from my broken leg? Who carried me to that 
 clump of trees? Whose arms were under me, 
 and whose face was over me when I came to con- 
 sciousness? Was it not yours?" 
 
 '^Yes; but that was nothing more than a sol- 
 dier's duty." 
 
 "Listen again," continued the older man. "I was 
 fifty-six years old when I offered my services to 
 the Nation, and I had a son, a noble boy. No 
 better boy breathed in all , ur land. He also en- 
 listed and fell dead at the head of the line in the 
 hrst charge of his brigade at Fair Oaks." The 
 Colonel's eyes became misty for a moment; but 
 he continued: "Now I must return without him 
 1 have a large house and a fair share of this world's 
 goods; and my daughter is waiting at Millbank 
 for my home-coming. It would not be so lonely 
 for either of us if you should walk up the path 
 to the old home with me. Will you do it?" 
 
 Ellis pushed the toe of his shoe into the sand 
 meditatively. 
 
 "T "^ w J ''''°"''' ^^ "" interloper," he replied. 
 1 wish I had died in your son's stead. He had 
 everything to live for, and I have nothing." 
 
 "Fhng that notion away. I have in my pocket 
 now a letter from Edith, in which she expresses a 
 desire to see the man who has saved her father's 
 life She wants to thank him for his brave deed. 
 Will you go? It is only just to me," ai^nied the 
 commander. "I should have a chance to dis- 
 play a httle gratitude." 
 
The Comrades Quarrel ii 
 
 E' .3 was wavering. A band swung round the 
 comer, playing "The Girl I Left Behind Me." 
 A conversation between two soldiers standing 
 near was perfectly audible. He heard one say to 
 the other, "Henry, do you know, I 'm just dying 
 to get back to God's country? Ain't you, old 
 pard ?" and the other answered : "You 're recon- 
 noitering in the neighborhood of the truth now, 
 Sam. I am wild to see that Iowa settlement 
 again." 
 
 "And mother?" 
 
 "Yes, indeedyl" 
 
 "And the old farm on Cedar River?" 
 
 "Sure as shooting." 
 
 "And the schoolma'am in the canary sun- 
 bonnet, eh, Henry?" 
 
 "Sam, you '11 spoil my manners. Hush, or I '11 
 have to lay down on this hyar grass, and roll. 
 I 'II fetch a whoop that 'II scare that eagle on the 
 flagstaff yonder. Hush, d'ye hear me!" 
 
 A fragment of an old ballad flitted through 
 Philip's brain : 
 
 "Fair as the morning, bright as the day;** 
 
 and, looking into the kindly face of his gray-haired 
 superior, he answered simply, in his direct and 
 forthright way: "You are very kind. Colonel. 
 When we are mustered out, I will go with you." 
 The two men separated; and Ellis strolled to 
 the barracks, and sat down to read a paper. Be- 
 fore he had gotten half through with the first page, 
 he was interrupted. A stocky, myopic, swarthy 
 fellow, with a repellent face, loose, sensual mouth. 
 
13 
 
 A Modern Apollo» 
 
 terlee. Ph Hd hLh oT """'?•"<* of Colonel Sat- 
 
 'ace were pa^UcJIal/XuCrr "' °" "'» 
 msolent vanity he wasTnnl . ""'* °' ""^ 
 officers, and was in f= ""P°P'''" *'"> all the 
 
 visage. twisting his saturnine 
 
 has iSed y:7l;°Lirh '^""''^' ''^''^ "^ '"" "e 
 you are going there " ' '" ''"""""'• "^^ '"at 
 
 withTrgi/dtdai.:''" '° '°"'' "— " f-^HP. 
 
 Hea7tjnti:t:rhS^--t7— 
 
 with dS:; r t'Er'"^ "'^r '^^' ^"o ■' -» 
 
 which was compoLd of°"o ™"'' '" '^"P"' 
 Pl<iives, and alwL set with P^- "'^" "^ "^- 
 
The Comradei Quarrel 
 
 on though wfarniXjd^"""" '-' -"'' 
 
 you out? You have mL ^ , "^ ^ "^y <="' 
 race for the prle' ' """" "'' ""'^ '" ^I-^ 
 
 «ook,. %o'u"urdi;i::;v\rMS" Vou" ^°°'' 
 
 a se^.o^^-,^;f-^^ Without 
 interview struc^S'- W^h soTefforh"' ''= 
 
 her heart^o you I k„ow"he ?"' ' ""' °P'" 
 and I want vm, » ° ^ feminine nature, 
 
 Plans 7. t?v ""■""' "°' '° »P°il niy life 
 "ImJ^ "°' ^ '"'■■ '■ei""t." answered Philin 
 
A Modern Apolloi 
 
 -merely that, and noth- 
 
 rendered her fire a service 
 ing more." 
 
 leaningr nearer the Captain, his protuberant eye. 
 ghinng through his spectacles, he repeated the 
 question, "Will you promise, Ellis?" 
 "No, sir," answered the Captain. 
 . "T-'I*"C ' '"""^""e look spread over Marley'» 
 face. I W.1 wnte to her this very day, telling her 
 your own history, and warning her to beware " 
 
 What can you write that will hurt me'" the 
 younger officer asked. 
 
 ohiZ"f i, ^°" ^"' " "''■"'' foundling and an 
 w, f " Jy^"'r '" " "'y ''"''""'ion. a nameless 
 waif. Ellis winced as Marley went on. "You 
 have no ancestry or family. You may be base- 
 born for aught you know, some beggar's discarded 
 
 A warning gleam kindled in the Captain's eye. 
 as he said, sternly, "Do you mean to insult me'"' 
 
 A venomous snarl tightened the pendulous 
 lower hp of the Major, as he retorted : "Insult you I 
 A gentleman can not insult r. paupc-. You are 
 °Tu »r"','' ""• y°" "'arable mudsill, yo_" 
 The Majors reply was suddenly cut short by 
 a stmging slap upon his cheek, dealt by Philip's 
 open hand. "^ 
 
 "Take that, you whitelivered cur," said the 
 young officer, rising to his feet and bracing him- 
 self for the expected attack. The Major's glasses 
 flew in one direction, his hat in another, and he 
 reeled toward the wall; but he regained his up- 
 right position in a moment, and, plucking a p^ 
 
The Comradei Quarrel 15 
 
 tol from hii breast, he fired at Ellii. The Major'i 
 eye», without »pectacle«, were not to be relied on. 
 Hii arm was unsteady, and the bullet bored 
 through the top of Philip's hat. In a moment they 
 were locked in a maddened clutch, wrestling furi- 
 ously; but the bystanders interfered and parted 
 them. As the Major started away with an officer, 
 he said to Ellis, threateningly: 
 
 "Henceforth, Ellis, I am your foe. I never 
 forgive. We shall settle this soon. I shall square 
 this account in full, you low-flung upsUrt I" 
 
 Philip could scarcely retain his fury; but he 
 seemed outwardly calm, as he answered: "Very 
 well. Major. You know where to find me at any 
 time. When you come, there will h,i something 
 doing, and one to carry. That is talk with the 
 bark on it." 
 
 After Marley had walked three squares to his 
 room, breathing threats and imprecations, regard- 
 less of his companion, Adjutant Bendig, he turned 
 to that individual, and invited him into his quar- 
 ters. The pair sat down to talk and smoke; and 
 when the cigars were going freely, Bendig broke 
 out, "How did the row begin?" 
 
 "About 'woman, lovely woman,' of course 
 growled the Major. "What else have men fought 
 about smce the world began ? Any one with brains 
 enough to grease a gimlet would know that." 
 
 "A woman!" chuckled the Adjutant, who was 
 well known for his plain speaking, ignoring the 
 other man's msinuation. Then he observed "I 
 thought you didnt know there was a woman in 
 this world." 
 
i6 
 
 A MoJern Apollot 
 
 w.Sr^i'::;;:;;'S-'"-'M.jor....„a 
 
 "What poiiible intereit have vou In ,u 
 
 .Xd"i;rrhn°r;; "^-^"'^ -'••"^^^^^^ 
 
 Matched .he .moke ring, curling .owird .he 
 ;;i love her; that '. all," «id Marley. 
 
 Joking on a .eriou. .ubject " 
 
 .ovJ l::Ld%h°e sr'"' '•^■"' "' '-'"•^ '" 
 
 conce^a„,.Here .hou-^Ut^^:^^^^^^^ - He.« 
 
 fuSL!ro;':r^X"5°n:^J:r 
 
 »^or " explained Bendig. sar«,tiL % .fc 
 
 daw, to pe.k at.- .hey think I have no stument 
 that no woman could care for me " 
 
 fo Jrd" B'endig 'Til 7' '",? '""'^' ^'-«'«- 
 , "f"a'K- It IS general y conceded that 
 
 trooicaT '"'""'".' "'■*" ^°" --"J be abou a 
 tropical as a nap in an ice-house. You are con! 
 
The Comradei Quarrel 
 
 >7 
 
 fidered the moit amemic propoiition in the whole 
 army." 
 
 "Don't you think I would treat a helpmate 
 
 weur 
 
 "You would certainly take coiy good care of 
 her husband. What claim have you on the young 
 lady, may I inquire, diffidently?" 
 
 "Well, the i> my cousin ; that is one claim." 
 
 "Ho, hoi" laughed Bendig, twining his long 
 legs, a habit he had when interested, "that cuts 
 no .gure. Cupid never studied genealogy. The 
 rosy boy with the bow does not cut his arrows from 
 a family tree; and they are tipped with fire, not 
 with blood." 
 
 "I am aware of that fact," returned the other ; 
 "but I have known her fifteen years. We are old 
 friends. I carried her schoolbooks and pulled her 
 on my sled when she was a slip of a girl." 
 
 "Is she beautiful ?" asked the Adjutant. 
 
 "Surpassingly beautiful, in a petite way," replied 
 the Major ; "lier height is only five feet." 
 
 "Yes," drawled Bendig, "a sort of Junoette, 
 I fancy. A vest-pocket Venus. Wouldn't she 
 look well squired by such a glacial Adonis as you I 
 Is she dark or light?" 
 
 "An adorable blonde," Marley returned, "heaped 
 up, honey-colored hair, celestial-blue eyes, and fair, 
 smooth skin. She has gentle ways and a figure 
 molded of all exquisite perfections. Her hands 
 and feet are the shapeliest, and she is modest, 
 artless, and good. Add to these charms the grace 
 of a startled doe on a woodland river brim and 
 
i8 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 a voice like a new-waked lark outsoaring thtf first 
 beams of the sun." 
 
 "Delectable! Whew!" ejaculated Bendig. 
 "You are hard hit, my crony. I see you are booked 
 for the land of the benedicts, if fortune favors your 
 suit. Your talk is as full of flummery as are the 
 moonlight rhapsodies of any Romeo that ever 
 raved ; but you have not mentioned her chief charm 
 as yet — one that eclipses all the others." 
 
 "What do you mean?" questioned Marley, 
 looking steadily at the Adjutant. "Have you seen 
 her?" 
 
 "No, not even vrith my mind's eye ; neither have 
 I fought, bled, and died with you three years for 
 nothing. What is the size of her wallet? When 
 the love of lucre was dished out, you passed your 
 plate twice. I have heard you say that the rustle 
 of banknotes was more musical than the swish of 
 the petticoats, and Hymen's torch might be used to 
 scare away the wolf of poverty, as a frontiersman 
 flashes a firebrand at a coyote." 
 
 "O, she is rich enough," said Marley, with an 
 uneasy look in his shifting eyes. "She is the only 
 heiress of her father, and he is wealthy. I should 
 hate to see it go to such an underbred cad as 
 Ellis." 
 
 "Why do you think he may get her?" 
 "My reason is this: She writes to me occa- 
 sionally, and her letter said that she was anxious 
 to see the man who saved her father's life. That 's 
 the woman of it, you know. I did n't care as long 
 as he had no intention of going there; but when 
 mx uncle told me to-day that Captain EUis had 
 
■] 
 
 '' 
 
 ^ 
 
 The Comrades Quarrel 19 
 
 accepted his invitation to visit the old home, I 
 foresavir what her gratitude to such a fellow would 
 lead to. Everybody cottons to him. He has a 
 manner, and is the style of man who would capti- 
 vate her; and so I tried to get his pledge that 
 he would leave the field to me. But he mocked 
 me ; and when I taunted him with his shady origin, 
 he struck me. But I swear, Bendig," said the 
 opinionated blunderer, blazing into a rage', "by all 
 that I hold sacred, I will humble him for that 
 deed. I will crush him, and to that work I dedi- 
 cate my life. I will have revenge at any cost." 
 
 "O Marley, you are talking foolishly," replied 
 the Adjutant. "You should not have mentioned 
 the lady to Ellis. It was unsoldierly to speak of 
 his humble beginning. A pot should be siow to 
 criticise the complexion of its culinary companions. 
 He is as good as you. Let the matter drop." 
 
 The banal blood in his arteries seethed with 
 Satanic malice as he cried, trembHng with pent-up 
 fury : "Never I curse him, the nameless hound that 
 he is! I have sworn his destruction, and I shall 
 hold life cheap until that oath is fulfilled." 
 
 "O, shut up!" gurgled Bendig. "Do n't be so 
 sniflfy. You give a fellow the fantods with your 
 everlasting cackle about your progenitors. Ellis 
 is your equal in everything but uppishness; and 
 if you fool with him you '11 get your comb cut. 
 AVhen you gave him the rough side of your tongue, 
 did he mention any of your shortcomings ?" 
 
 "No," replied the Major; "he only quoted the 
 Kentucky adage, 'What 's the use of a pedigree 
 if the horse can't trot?" " 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
20 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 ihat day will never dawn " laiH r.„j: 
 rose to go to his quarters ^'tJ.I, ^ ^' f ' ''' 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Specter of the Mill 
 
 'THE Colonel and Ellis were at last on their 
 1 way to the former's home. I„ the town of 
 
 .Trli, 7 , Z^'''" ""=''"• That evening they 
 
 strol ed along the bnsy streets, greatly envying 
 
 w^™..n t" i ^"^ °^ ■""" ''""^ separated from 
 ZZlr ,^'"'t^«" '- years in military camps 
 ^ all wrong, sa.d the elder man. "I am glad io 
 get back to civilization. The stir of the avenues 
 ^ves^my blood a HUip. It p.. ,„,„ ., ^ 
 
 When they had enjoyed the life and light of the 
 mam street for a time, they strayed away from 
 the thoroughfare. Following some loungers, who 
 quickened the.r steps into a side street, they ^rme 
 
 X\aTH"''/'"^T "' P'^°P'«=' *-iy v."w 
 
 h ..f darkness. The crowd had collected in 
 the ™ddle of the block before a large br;ck house 
 s and,„g stiffly amid some ancestfal elms. The 
 h>gh iron fence before it might once have shut 
 
 ns h,.nges and now lay prone upon the long coarse 
 
22 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 grass within the yard. The people surged and clat- 
 tered about the gateway, without venturing to en- 
 ter, until the sidewalk was choked. 
 
 "What 's the row here?" demanded Satterlee 
 ^ A Negress with a child in her arms answered 
 De woman jest went in dar." 
 "Does she live there.'" 
 
 "Law sakes, no sah ! Nobuddy lib in dar. No- 
 buddy ain't libbed in dar fo' mo'n five yeahs. Dat 's 
 de suckemstance we cain't git frew our haids. 
 tbberybuddy dun lef dar long ago." 
 
 "Who is the woman who has just gone in '" 
 "Dat's what I want to know. Who is she? 
 bhe am t no sure enuflf woman, no flesh-and-blood 
 human being same as me. She 's a spook." 
 "A what?" 
 
 "A ha'ant, mistah. Two times ebery month 
 She walk down dis yeah street, and goes in dar 
 an nebber come out no moh. Dat old tumbly 
 house IS done ha'anted suah 's yuh bawn." 
 "Where does she come from ?" 
 "Do n't come from nowhere. She 's jest dar 
 in de walk where dat tree is, right smack dar, wid- 
 out comm' dar. Den she slide along and float up 
 de steps and in at de front doh." 
 
 The crowd grew larger, and all were whisper- 
 ing about the shadowy visitant. Several claimed 
 to have seen her enter. 
 
 „r.f"'^ turned to his companion, and said: 
 Colonel, this is my chance." 
 '■What do you mean?" asked the elder man. 
 I have always longed to see a ghost. I dis- 
 believe all stories of supernatural beings. I hold 
 
The Specter of the Mill 23 
 
 that when people are dead they are done with 
 this world— done done, as the deckhands say." 
 
 "And so you believe in one world at a time." 
 
 "Yes, sir ; I am a home ruler, and allow no for- 
 eign interference." 
 
 "I dififcr from you in that." 
 
 "Well, : do n't know it all, of course; but here 
 is a . :ance tc earn." Then, stepping to a group 
 of men, he asKed, "Did you actually see this ap- 
 parition ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," one of the bystanders answered, 
 "as plainly as I see you." 
 
 "What was the appearance of the woman?" 
 
 "She seemed to be about thirty years old, and 
 was clothed in white— a dull, lusterless white. Her 
 face was ashen pale, and her eyes glowed like 
 lamps; her hands were clasped as in prayer, and 
 she seemed to glid past me. I could have touched 
 her. As she approached the door, it slowly opened, 
 and when she had passed in, it swung shut, but not 
 a sound was heard." 
 
 Philip asked another onlooker, "Did you see 
 her?" 
 
 "I can take oath that I saw her just as Mr. 
 Binder describe." 
 
 "Wait till I come out," said Ellis, and with a 
 leap he was up the stone stairs. He turned the 
 door-knob, but the door was locked. He shook 
 It violently, but with no result. Then he clanged 
 the heavy brass knocker, but only the echo in the 
 empty rooms answered him. Surely those mp- 
 could not all be liars, Ellis thought to himr 
 They had seemed to be in deepest earnest. 
 
«4 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 was about to seek the street when he thought of 
 the back entrance, and walked quickly along a brick 
 path overhung with syringa bushes to an ancient 
 arbor, and tried the rear door. It opened, and he 
 stepped in. A few rats fled from him, scampering, 
 and then all was silence. 
 
 Walking into the front rooms he saw the 
 moonlight streaming in upon the dusty floors. He 
 went to the window, and, while gazing on the 
 throng in the street, he heard one man say, in 
 louder tones than the rest, "You 'II never see that 
 fellow again." Every moment the people were 
 becommg more numerous, and policemen were 
 busy keeping a path open tor pedestrians. 
 
 Up the long, creaking stairway Ellis groped 
 his way to the second floor, and examined every 
 eloset and corner. Then he climbed to the third 
 story, and strolled calmly about. He knew no 
 fear, and loved a chance for excitement. He saw 
 no sign of an attic, and was descending to the 
 mam floor when it occurred to him that he had 
 not explored the cellar. He moved slowly down 
 the crooked cellar stairway, listening. The silence 
 was mtense. A faint glimmer came through the 
 gnmy panes of the basement windows. As soon 
 as his eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom 
 he walked from one end of the large, damo room 
 to the other. For ;. time he stood intent and quiet, 
 and then ascended the stairs and went out to the 
 street. 
 
 When he suddenly stepped out of the shadow 
 of the trees, the people shrank slightly, and an 
 officer asked, "Well, what did you find '" 
 
The Specter of the Mill 25 
 
 ^What I expected— nothing," answered Ellis. 
 he officer was not satisfied, and asked, "Is 
 the house empty?" 
 
 "As vacant as a dead man's eye," returned the 
 Captain. 
 
 "It is very queer," said the man with the star. 
 "I have heard this story several times in the last 
 three months;" and he ordered the peopk to dis- 
 perse. 
 
 As the crowd scattered, Satterlee and Ellis 
 walked to the corner. They did not notice that 
 two men were following them, until one of the 
 strangers addressed them. As they turned about, 
 one of the men said to Ellis: "Excuse me, sir. I 
 saw you go into that house, and I would like to 
 speak to you." 
 
 "Very well," replied Philip. 
 
 "Have you no dread of ghosts?" asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 "Dread?" said Ellis. "Why, I would walk 
 barefooted through a mile of snow to see one. I 
 used to go into the graveyards at midnight and lie 
 between two graves waiting for them. I spent half 
 a night alone in the dead-house of a hospital speer- 
 ing for spooks. I am aching to see one." 
 
 "Would you go anywhere to see one?" asked 
 the man. 
 
 "Anywhere in reason." 
 
 "Well, I can show you one." 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 "It is on the edge of this city, about seven 
 miles south, almost in the country." 
 
 "Tell me the facts as you know them." 
 
36 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 th, "P'^"", '••"'• '" ""' '°""'y I "•"'ion, on 
 
 first nithtf' " " ""•"''' cotton-mill. On the 
 
 tirst night of every month a light appears in the 
 
 upper room at midnight. It has been seen th ee 
 
 or four t.mes. I myself have seen it three times, 
 
 and w,ll swear it .s no illusion. I have wished 
 
 ,?-,"*". "V"""" '=°""8re to solve the mystery." 
 
 This IS the first day of the month," said Ellis 
 
 feo It happens," said the stranger 
 
 tain ^Zr ^' *■""• ^''°" "'''^"'«'"'" '"^ C'P- 
 
 "Yes, sir. Will you go ?" 
 
 Ellis hesitated a moment, and then asked the 
 man his name The stranger answered, "Hender- 
 
 Mn BohI"^"'"'""' '"" "^ '""'<''' -- '» 
 ."^yf"'." 'j|« Captain said, "my name is Ellis, 
 and ths .s Colonel Satterlee. I am inclined to 
 go. What say you, Colonel?" he continued, turn- 
 ing to his companion. 
 
 Ror^ "f^l 'f y^" "e," the Colonel answered. 
 
 Borden looked at his watch, and said: "It is 
 
 now ten o'clock. I will call a carriage. Wait 
 
 cle TT- ^^■^";^«-" I" - few moments he 
 came back m the desired vehicle. When they 
 were all seated m the carriage, Borden told the 
 man on the box to drive to Cottage Park. As 
 the cab door was slammed shut, the Captain said- 
 Of course, there is a legend connected with the 
 bogie we are going to visit. A specter without 
 a creepy story would be an egg without salt." 
 
 Yes, replied Borden, "and the tale is true 
 I v,-.ll not answer for the hobgoblin; but I was 
 
The Specter of the Mill 27 
 
 an eye-witness of the awesome fact from which 
 the popular belief grew. Years ago the mill was 
 full of male and female operatives; and one day 
 a spinner was caught in a belt, drawn under an 
 iron pulley, and crushed against a beam. He was 
 wedged in tightly and mangled cruelly. The ma- 
 chinery could not be reversed, and the only way 
 the moaning mass of flesh and bones could be 
 released was to unscrew the bolts that held the 
 shaft-hangers in place. I was one of the men 
 who made the wrenches fly for twenty minutes 
 while the aching people looked on. When we 
 tore away the shaft, he slipped to the floor, gave 
 a gasp, and died. He had no wife, and only one 
 child— a daughter— who had a pair of looms in the 
 room below. As we worked at the rescue, she 
 could see part of his broken body protruding from 
 the narrow crevice in which it was driven; and 
 when it was drawn out, and she saw he was gone, 
 she drew a knife which she used at her work, and 
 cut her throat with one swift motion. They died 
 together, as I can testify; for I looked on the 
 scene with my own eyes, and many folks assert 
 her spirit, clothed in white, haunts the decaying 
 mill, and stands by the red spot on the floor where 
 her life blood gushed out, moaning and wringing 
 its hands. If the last part of the recital is as true 
 as the first portion of it, the forsaken factory has 
 a real ghost." 
 
 "There is nothing lacking in the uncanny chron- 
 icle," observed the Colonel. "It is as chill as a 
 blast from the open Polar Sea. I feel an icicle 
 creeping up my back already." Ellis agreed that 
 
«8 A Modern Apollo» 
 
 f. ni^w • f "',°"' '" » *"''"' '°-"i«ht, there 
 1. nothing m looking for then, in likely pllce, " 
 They were whirled rapidly through the city. 
 
 and no I.gh , were visible, save here and there 
 •lamp blinking from the window of a sick-ro^m 
 Occasionally a belated citizen was passed, w^nd-' 
 
 walks. After a time even the board walks failed, 
 
 tolrHTK*""" °" 1 ™'" =°""''y ™'«'- They rode 
 uZaV^' 7"- *'?'='> ~"'d southward in a dark- 
 ling flood; for thick clouds were scudding across 
 
 our':;-- '" " '"""P °' cottonwoods,Vrde„ 
 « u rn 1""" 'l '"'" "'' *«" ""'" 'hey shouW 
 Tnd T; T°" '^ ''""'" * ''"^ ''°^'^d dismally, 
 and an owl m the willows was shrewing at the 
 frogs along the river bank. Near by loomed the 
 mm outlined against the sky. It was^a me" sh^J. 
 abandoned long before. 
 
 Ellis'^ •W.,''t\".'°'' ""^""'"8^ '^"'^l'""'," said 
 *"'*■ ^ W'sh I Iia^: ."- dark-lantern." 
 
 Have yor a revolver?" asked Satterlee. 
 
 the'pTat"*"" ^-"^°-"' you if you enter 
 
 "No, no," returned the Captain; "there is no 
 danger. What time is it ?" ^ere is no 
 
 Borden.'^'''' '^""" ™""'" °' midnight," said 
 
 Ellis turned to Henderson, "You say that the 
 light IS visible only after midiaght ?" 
 
The Specter of the Mill 
 
 29 
 
 "Yei," replied Henderson, "between twelve and 
 one. 
 
 "Wen, here goes. Stay in the shadow unless 
 I fire a shot. Then come to my aid quickly." 
 
 "Say, stranger," said Borden. "I won't mix in 
 «ny fight. Do n't ask that of me. I can't afford 
 to do It. My mate won't either." 
 
 "Very well," said Ellis, "I won't ask it." He 
 saw they could not be relied on. Then he 
 walked toward the old building, looking for a 
 door; but there was none on the near side of the 
 null; and he was about to walk around it, when 
 he caught sight of a forebay that had once been 
 used to carry water to the overshot wheel It 
 was empty and rotting. The long uprights sup- 
 portmg It seemed like a procession of giants carry- 
 mg a coffin. Ellis knew that it would bear his 
 weight, and would serve to lead him to the highest 
 part of the structure. Carefully, even painfully, he 
 slipped through it on hands and knees, and, using 
 his experience as a scout in the army, he at last 
 chmbed out on the arms of the motionless wheel, 
 and looked across the empty garret of the estab- 
 lishment. Nothing could be seen but some broken 
 frames of power-looms, a few spools from the 
 spmning-mule, a heap of iron bailing-ties, and 
 some sacks of shoddy. 
 
 "This is as good a place as any," he solilo- 
 quized, setting himself on one of the waterworn 
 flanges of the wheel, where he could overlook 
 the room and the staircase coming from below. 
 Ihe position was not easy, and he was soon 
 muttenng to himself, "Th^ next man who re- 
 
JO A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 hearaei > ipook yarn to me will have Phil Ellii 
 to fight." 
 
 ButlittenI Hark I Below, in the weave-room, 
 he heard a step, and then !ow voicei. Soon a man 
 appeared ascending the staircase and holding a 
 lantern, followed by another carrying a satchel. 
 They sat down on some bobbin-boxes, lighted cig- 
 ars, and talked in low tones, laughing betimes. 
 
 In about ten minutes another pair came up the 
 stairs, bringing a lantern, but no satchel. They 
 shook hands, greeting each other with stilted po- 
 liteness, and Ellis could hear them calling the older 
 man of the firstcomers Operator No. i and the 
 older man of the later arrivals Operator No. 9. 
 No names were used. "A bad lot," muttered the 
 Captain, "as the devil said of the Ten Command- 
 ments. What are the varlets up to, I wonder. I 
 will watch them awhile and find out." 
 
 The man called Operator No. i wore a full 
 black beard, closely trimmed, and was well dressed. 
 He was stockily built, and had a horsy style about 
 him, that indefinable air which bespeaks thf port- 
 ing character, and seemed about forty years of 
 age. His companion was a much younger man, 
 with a slight cast in his eyes and a hang-dog ex- 
 pression of face. His hair and mustache had a 
 tinge of red. His skin was very white, and his 
 hands were slender. He was lithe and graceful 
 in his movements, and evidently had little to say 
 concerning the business. 
 
 "Take a drink of red-eye to wash the cobwebs 
 out of your throats," said No. i to the other dis- 
 reputables. 
 
The Specter of the Mill 31 
 
 After the flaik had been passed and each had 
 drunk a dram, the valise was opened. Two bun- 
 dles of banknotes were taken from it and laid 
 on a box, and one of the late comers took a large 
 wallet from his coat-pocket, counted out certain 
 sums, and passed them to No. i. He then hande.l 
 one of the bundles to his partner, and shoved the 
 other into his pocket, asking, as he did so, "How 
 is the work in the West ?" 
 
 "Good; it is a gold-mine for us all," replied 
 No. I. 
 
 "Can you supply us if we put out a few more 
 circulators?" 
 
 "No," said No. I. "Take no chances. Do n't 
 overdo the thing. Very few can be trusted at this 
 trade. Keep a still tongiic and a peeled eye, and 
 all will flourish with us. Here are the brotherhood 
 rings. I have them at last. Take your choice," 
 he said to the three men, and he laid some jewelry 
 on the box before the quartet. 
 
 The Captain knew he was gazing on a gang of 
 counterfeiters, or their agents, and pondered on 
 an attempt to capture them. He liked a spice of 
 danger. It sharpened his faculties and was a 
 tonic to his nerves. More than once he had 
 slipped through death's skeleton fingers on the field 
 of carnage ; but the coachman was half a mile away. 
 The two citizens would take no share in a battle, 
 and no doubt the quartet of outlaws would show 
 fight if cornered. He balanced the probabilities 
 of a favorable outcome, if he should attack the 
 unsuspecting reprehensibles. The odds are too 
 formidable, he speculated ; it would be folly. 
 
if J 
 
 3« A Modern Apollos 
 
 J'^lZTo^Vtl ""' ""= "'^ ^°'-' 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 through wJa he '""f/7'"'^°" ''^'•'"<' him 
 growth, houX" and e^'-' "" °"' °' " ^^"^'^ 
 
 shiver through him K;! , ^ ^'^ '^'" » 
 his ribs DfLt i,i \ '"' ''"°'''''' =•&"!■'»' 
 
 sapped b ideal. .edsptorS 
 
 coTdS^ie:: He'":' ' h";"'"^ •"°^"' "^ -- 
 
The Specter of the Mul 
 
 33 
 
 half hysterical with turbulent emotions. He no- 
 ticed how clammy was the touch of his hands as 
 he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and 
 made one mighty efifort to rally his energies. The 
 attempt was successful ; for his nerves responded 
 to his will, and he said, "I must speak to this 
 shadow, come what may." The conspirators saw 
 not the approaching apparition until the cry 
 was heard, when they arose, startled, and stared 
 at her fixedly, not thirty paces away. For a min- 
 ute they were palsied, then turned with frightened 
 faces, and ran leaping down the stairs, stumbled 
 through the dark, vermin-infested office into the 
 night, hurried to their boats beside the river bank, 
 and loosed them into the rapid current, never 
 daring to look back at their supernatural visitor. 
 Philip could hear the rattle of the oars as they 
 rowed away. Setting his teeth, he climbed down 
 the wheel, and was about to step from it when 
 the phantom, in wavy motions, came at him. He 
 tried to speak; but only a dry, sibilant, inarticu- 
 late sound left his lips. Then the spectral foe lifted 
 its hands, and again that hideous shriek clotted the 
 blood around his heart. As the cry died away, 
 a rush of waters was heard, and a malign, chill- 
 ing laugh came from his cadaverous enemy as a 
 flood roared over the wheel, sweeping him into the 
 flume, whence he was flung into the tail race, and, 
 with drifting debris, was tumbled into the turbid 
 river, and swept away toward the sea. 
 
 The Colonel had heard the twice-repeated 
 jcream, and, forgetting his orders, hurried with 
 the other two to the mill. He was in time to see 
 
34 A Modern Apollos 
 
 two boats shoot into the shadows along the shore 
 and hear a raging flood boiling through the un 
 used slu.ce from the forebay above the wheel No 
 person could be seen when they entered the buiM 
 We' t°"^': '"°J'"'""^ ^"' '"'™i"S. -de by 
 
 im?H i t. ^ ™''y ^^^"^S^'^ •'^d been recently 
 hfted and the water was flowing in great volume 
 on the creakmg wheel. They then went downTo 
 the spot where the lamps were found. 
 
 asked in'tr'^M"^"*"'' °' ^"P'"'" S'"^?" Satterlee 
 asked „ troubled tones, and peered suspiciously 
 
 nL^W,° T"- "^f '^'^ '^^ '''^ f"-d into a 
 net? Was he caught by some devilish device' 
 
 ll7s wer'". "'^ '.T "°"''"^' -'' S^"->^e's 
 won to L r""!' '^ ^'"^ ""'""''''■ "'- had 
 Mow Ih ".''^ swimming, some distance 
 
 below, and returned to the scene 
 
 *.,. '^^"°' <^°'°"«' '■" he called. "Here I am, none 
 the worse for a muddy bath." 
 
 ma^'l^nd'^^r f?'' 7°"deringly on the dripping 
 man and the Colonel said, "I knew you were in 
 
 £Si^5'-''''"'^^'''"'-''^"^--:u.d 
 
 "It was involuntary," said the Captain. "I had 
 
 i^tfeX:-.'''*'"''""- ^'"-'■'"^''^-1^ 
 
 As he spoke his foot struck a metallic object 
 
 Sth r/ ?' P"'^' "P ^ ""^ °f 'Phased gold." 
 r^^^H-r^rp^^^-^-om-^on; 
 
 ..i^rz:^,C^.2-t:SV^.-:: 
 
The Specter of the Mill 
 
 35 
 
 in exposing the coneyackers. They made the light 
 which has no doubt given this ramshackle mill the 
 name of a haunted place. They very likely have 
 been here before, for they seemed quite at home." 
 
 "But did you see a ghost?" asked the Colonel, 
 who saw that Ellis was greatly shaken. 
 
 "That 's what I don't know," he replied, re- 
 flectively. "I saw something," 
 
 After they had parted from the twain who had 
 brought them there, and were riding cityward in 
 the carriage, the Colonel, who was a deep student 
 in pshychology, said, "Captain, I greatly desire 
 you to tell me, with minute detail, all you know 
 of what you saw in the room." 
 
 Ellis rehearsed the story to the smallest par- 
 ticular, and concluded by saying: "I was mightily 
 stirred, greatly agitated by what I witnessed. 
 The appearance and motion of the figure was un- 
 accountable, unlike anything I have looked upon ; 
 but it could not have been a phantom ; mortal eyes 
 could not behold a spirit, could they ?" 
 
 "No," said the elder man, "for the sufficient 
 reason that a simple, disembodied spirit can not 
 exist. Paul says, 'Not that I would be unclothed, 
 but clothed upon with my body which is from 
 hea\ 'n.' He refers to what is properly called the 
 spirit's body, but not the body of flesh and blood 
 as we know it in common parlance." 
 
 "Is this spirit body material?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly," answered the Colonel. "It is 
 made of matter, which is a much misunderstood 
 part of creation. It is usually conceived grossly 
 as something palpable." 
 
36 
 
 A Modern Apolloj 
 
 "Well fJi * 
 inept thinking IfTlfat" " ""^ "''- °' ">uch 
 be matter; when fluxed ;„' a"';" t' '•°"' '' """''^ 
 be matter, only more fljl w^ " ''°"''' ^"" 
 blowpipe heat it went "nto „ " ""''" ^ ^^rce 
 matter, only mnr^T ^*' " '^""W still be 
 
 . f ice may'rr, ---' ^^^ "'- ? A il^ee' 
 It is in each stage onTL^tt ' "'"' '"'" ''«">• 
 
 Nothing else," arinied thi^r i . 
 suppose a woman's soir?^ l! ^°'°"^'- "^ow, 
 of flesh, blood, and b^e 'si? '"^ ''<=->' body 
 body woven of such stuff f. """"^ 'be lighter 
 
 »"•" be a spirit in a body-ll^: "^T^; " "°"''' 
 you were to see that person v °'^^' ^"^'^ '^ 
 
 asp.rit_asoulwithout'rbodV'a"thr"" "" "" 
 has ever seen, nor will see " ^ "° P"'°" 
 
 "ovedt'ifcSdnr"''^"" '"^ '°™ r -w 
 
 "Furthermo e? IntTn M r'^"''"" '--" 
 a body that pers;n would h?-^"""'^^-"-" such 
 natural to it, yet "ccuh „ '''^\P°"ers perfectly 
 
 in heavy bodies irwould b. f.° "" "''"bedded 
 
 •'Do you think," °: 2d J^^.^.'^^fbo^t." 
 a being?" queried Fhihp, "j ^g^ ^^^^ 
 
 "Vou arT the'S/S ^^^ r''""'^'' -»• 
 you did, there was no"hL " ^°" '''^- « 
 
 It was natural as any pe;so^„ ^"pernatural about it. 
 in a more delicate weffthan """"■"' ''"' S^^bed 
 a material one. That lirft "" "'' "°"^ ">e less 
 ^nat spirits may revisit this earth 
 
 L 
 
The Specter of the Mill 37 
 
 in garments more diaphanous than the coarse 
 work-a-day bodies we wear is not incredible to 
 me. It is no mora strange that they should come 
 the second time in fine attire, than that they were 
 here the first time in hodden gray of ordinary 
 mortality. You may have seen one." 
 
 "Maybe I did," muttered Ellis, ruefully. "I 
 wonder if the flood soaked her as it did me. I 
 guess not," he went on. "According to your 
 theory the deluge did not dampen her at all. How 
 little we know of these subjects as full of interest 
 to 'all mankind I' " 
 
 . "T™^>" assented the senior, "but as every 
 midnight is but a morrow bud, our ignorance will 
 flower into knowledge soon." 
 
 "Meanwhile, we must wait," concluded Philip. 
 "I confess my unbeUef received a rap to-night. 
 Not all the fires of Dante's vision, if seen, could 
 fright me as that wavering, intangible shape did." 
 "Let us be patiently receptive," counseled the 
 Colonel; "not faithless, but expectant. We are 
 in a good universe, arranged to help and not to 
 harm us in the long run. We must keep its laws, 
 however. Some time, whatever is to be known we 
 shall know, and when the vital dust that builds 
 our spirits' ramparts escapes the charnal confines, 
 and is blown by autumn winds into eyes as dull 
 as ours are, we shall gaze upon the wide circle of 
 of the wondrous truth, seen so imperfectly now 
 through the narrow wicket of the present world." 
 
CHAPTER in. 
 
 The Home of the Ronans 
 
 hX ^L *^ " "•' P°'''='' °f ^ home in Del- 
 ^,. I M'b'i-d was calling—chee wink in , 
 
 <«Hve./a:::^/n.r:.i;:r"--''^'-p' 
 
 he turned in af the" e 1^°''^'' '"'^^ ""*" 
 worn and stooped,^" Js^ZT" "" "''^- 
 and faded. A queer nn„H • "^"^ P*"=''«'' 
 that communt was tr^T"*' ^'" '"°*" '" 
 
 the extS^t ^m H ""'' ""^ ^""'^'^ ''^"''t to 
 made of birchbark sewT;:-;T"H^ "'^ "^^'• 
 
 «nedwitH.usHroon.:."^^rft;;trirs 
 
 «8 
 
The Home of the Ronans 
 
 39 
 
 newly-gathered cresses, and around the edges 
 some roots of sassafras and sweet anise. 
 
 As the man came awkwardly up the path, the 
 woman on the porch recognized him. It was 
 Barney, "the Minty," a queer character, with a 
 round head covered with short hair, and the bluest 
 eyes, that twinkled with his piping voice. With his 
 comical gestures and bright chatter he was wel- 
 come everywhere. Long had he frequented the 
 neighborhood, but had been away almost three 
 yeari, no one kne'w where, and no one cared 
 enough to inquire about him. Now, on his return, 
 he was ignorant of the great trouble that dark- 
 ened the Ronan home. 
 
 As he approached the porch, he called out: 
 "The top of the mornin' to ye all; the foine 
 weather is a comfort to a wayfarer's sowl. Here 's 
 a trifling treat I 've brought the young man of the 
 house. Long life to him I Tubbe sure it 's only a 
 wheen o' cresses and some nubbins o' sassyfrax." 
 
 "Sit down, Barney," said Mrs. Ronan; "you 
 are very clever. Why do you bring this to 
 Beverly ?" 
 
 "Well, then, ma'am," said "the Minty," "I '11 
 soon tell you that. I live in the quarry beyant 
 Higgin's hill, in the thick woods, as everywan 
 knows. One day, the winter before I went away, 
 I had a dhrop too much at the tavern above, and 
 came down the hill, trippin' myself, so unsteady I 
 was. It was the fall of the night, an' coarse 
 weather, an' your son saw me pass by toward the 
 hill. He put on his coat, and tailed afther me. 
 Sure, he has a heart as big as a boxcar, an' it 
 
A Modern Apollos 
 
 or some other mLh^p 17°"^;.°' brownkiMis, 
 The darlin' pretrnded hi ""^ "" °ff- 
 
 steadied me to my dure lid ."T' "'"• ""<» 
 
 »afe an- comfortable, he se hi", f ^ "'^^ ">« 
 again. T was a ChrLr '*" f""" home 
 
 '■'; ^o I brought him h" TC '"' ' ""'' '°^eet 
 
 ;^..^.L.^^---p--be 
 
 -•" disappoint JoT Brtfs a° '"' ^ "'^' 
 condemned as a^onvict H^e s Z' '/ '"''^■ 
 for a crime he never comn,?. / ""'""«'i in ail 
 
 empty, our firesidr^deToT f ^Z"' ""l "'""^ " 
 on my son when I went Ho 1*''°"^'" t° lean 
 We. Alas! the staff" tke„ 1 ' '""'*' '''" "' 
 
 %ht h,, g<,„^ out:/m?!:;«r°'" "^ ''^"''' '"« 
 
 Whaf-fthat'"yi1iV"':h'"/-:i''°'^ "'"— - i->' 
 ejaculated Barney ^''SoL"-°' ''''" " J'"''?" 
 no more nor a unweaned h=H"""'^u'"' ''" ''''^' 
 
 Si;Si!rer°^-'^"-^-''iS 
 'and. w:r;;7a: oy^iLr i^^ ^" ^-- 
 
 ^~hi;,r:a::o:^-°--^ 
 
The Home of the Ronani 41 
 
 "Well," the mother answer. J, "it is a miserable 
 story, and brief enough. When Beverly came 
 home from college on his vacation a pair of 
 United States detectives followed him from the 
 cars to our house, and he was seized, upon his 
 arrival, and searched. Bad money was found on 
 him, both in his pocket and in his traveling-bag. 
 He was led away to jail, protesting his ignorance 
 of the whole thing. In three months he was tried, 
 and sentenced to prison for twelve yeart. There 
 was no room for him in the prison of this State, 
 and so he was sent tor another, which keeps Govern- 
 ment criminals for the National authorities. Now 
 he is in a cell, and we are crushed in sorrow." 
 
 "An' woe worth the day I Who wuz the wit- 
 nesses that testified agin' him?" asked Barney 
 in a gentle tone, with a sv pathetic manner 
 wholly unexpected in one so coarsely clad and so 
 rude of speech. 
 
 "No witnesses were needed, as he was detected 
 with the spurious currency on his person, and 
 overtaken with it in his possession. However, a 
 man named Mooney, from St. Louis, testified that 
 he was requested by my son to circulate the coun- 
 terfeit money for a share in the nefarious gains. 
 One point against Beverly was his absence for 
 three days between his departure from college 
 and his arrival at home. He refused to give ac- 
 count of the three days, or to explain his absence 
 in any way." 
 
 "An' the man who testified against him, was it 
 Bat Mooney?" asked Barney, after a moment's 
 reflection. 
 
4a A Modern Apolloi 
 
 , J'^'\]*'*'l""'' """' *" Jwemiah. I believe," 
 replied Mrs. Ronan. 
 
 '"T is the .ame. Bad luclc to the loikes o' him I 
 
 He .as crooked as a dog's leg, and the biggest 
 
 Uar that ever cocked a lip. I would.. . hang a 
 
 sparrow on the oath of him I" said Barney, angrily 
 
 It IS not Barney Foley," he continued, "that 11 
 
 ri ht it "^'""^ '"" "'" '" ''°"* ""' ''* °°' '^y '° 
 
 "You can do nothing now, Barney," said Mrs. 
 nonan, hopelessly. 
 
 "Mebbe I can't, arj -rebbe I can, ma'am," re- 
 turned Barney. "Sure, I was n't always a vagrant. 
 I can show honorable scars of my soldier's life. I 
 took the Queen's shillin', and once held up me chin 
 among men, before I became a wanderer on the 
 fact of the earth. I am only a 'Minty,' gathering 
 sassafras an sweet anise an' cresses an' mint, an' 
 ivm m me shack in the quarry beyant, but I am 
 known rom the river to the lake as an honest 
 man VVhen I whittle my dogwood skewers for 
 the butchers in the winter, and trap a few musk- 
 rats m the fall, I wrong no one; and the few 
 evil words I resave I don't forgit. Your son has 
 a soul m him bigger than the rock o' Cashel an' 
 It melts me heart like wax to think of him in prison 
 this day. Sure, I wish I could take his place, and 
 send him here to run across the lawn and kiss 
 nis mammy once more." 
 
 _ The mother's lips quivered, as she answered: 
 
 The worst of all is this, Mr. Foley: His career 
 
 w closed as a minister, almost before it began 
 
 His character is sullied, and no Church would ac- 
 
The Home of the Ronani 43 
 
 cept hii services. This, I fear, will rive his heart, 
 and wreck him, for he was wrapped up in his 
 worlc, and looked into the future with glowing 
 anticipation. Now all is ruined." 
 
 Barney was a great talker, and deeper than 
 he seemed. When he was once started, it was diffi- 
 cult to stop him. 
 
 "Thrue for ye, ma'am I O, "t is he has the right 
 sort o' religion, so it is. D'ye mind when Lew 
 Collins bruk his leg four years ago, come Christ- 
 mas, an' couldn't drive the dhray?" 
 
 Mrs. Ronan nodded, and Barney went on : 
 
 "He was not a forehanded man, bein' like me- 
 self fond o' a glass o' the poteen, an' he crooked 
 bis elbow too often. So poverty came down on 
 the wife an' childer, and she too proud to tell a 
 mortal, whin they were livin' on one meal a day, 
 mostly biled mush at that. And she pawned the 
 broche shawl her mother give her at her weddin' 
 to buy medicine for her man, .in' stuck to him like 
 purple dulse to the rocks o' i'.ie say. Well, d'ye 
 know, a passel o" good ; eople got up a meetin' at 
 his house for his benefit, not knowin' the small 
 family was starvin'. Blessings on them, they all 
 mane well! Thinkin' of souls, they never notice 
 how the flesh fails. Nora an' me sez our beads 
 regular, an' I couldn't sleep peaceful unless I 
 said the rosary. I 've wished tin thoucand times 
 I had more pieaty meself, that I have. But Beverly 
 had the real ould notion of a meetin', right up to 
 the knocker. He walks out that evenin' to big 
 Jim Howlett's. You know, Jim is as ungodly as 
 a brickyard mule, and his swearin' has been known 
 
'i II 
 
 44 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 to itop a man's watch. T would make your blood 
 run crimpy to hear the larrupin', whin the fit is 
 on him, and his temper is as sassy as a navy-blue 
 wasp." 
 
 Mrs. Ronan tried not to look incredulous, for 
 she was almost as much interested as Barney was. 
 
 •'An' Beverly," continued Barney, "sei, 'Jim 
 how s things out in this nick o' woods?' 'Fust 
 rate,' sez Jim; 'everything is purtier en a speckled 
 pup. Glad to see you, Bev,' and he ripped out a 
 double-jinted oath, with a saw-edge on it a rod 
 long; 'haint seed you since you beat me rasslin' 
 last Fourth o' July. V/hat blowed you out this 
 way ?' 
 
 " 'Well,' sez Beverly, 'I come out to get some 
 stuflf for the Collins meetin". 'I want a lot of it. 
 too, he sez. 
 
 "'A lot o' what?' sez Jim, lettin' his jaw drop, 
 an bum off another chaw o' stub an' twist. 'Are 
 you gettin' looney ?' an' he tossed off another hank 
 o blasphemous language that wud make your hair 
 curl. -Yer passin' the basket up the wrong pew 
 fer that sort o" truck,' he sez. 
 
 " 'No, sir, I mean it,' sez Bev. Then he up an" 
 tells Jim about the CoUins's livin' on a crust an' 
 the man lyin' in bed all pore an' ga'anted-' an' 
 Jim he norated it to his wife. Jinny, an' she says 
 'Hitch up, Beverly, while Jim gits the stuff out 
 o the smokehouse, and I git some out o' the 
 pantry.' An' they filled the wagon as full as 
 a tick. There' was two dressed chickens, one 
 ham, an' a crock o' sausage, some souse, three 
 dozen eggs in a pail o' bran, a cheese eight months 
 
The Home o( the Ronani 45 
 
 old, and (our pounds o" yellow butter, two sacks 
 o' spuds, one bag o' beans, (our bushel o' apples 
 and three o' turnips. An" Jinny's contribution wur 
 a box o' honey, six jars o' canned cherries, a hunk 
 o' maple sugar, some pickles, an' a lot o' quince 
 marmalade, with jelly, an' a two-gallon jug o' 
 sorghum molasses, a mess o" buckwheat meal, 
 an' a loa( o' salt-risin' bread. 
 
 "Just as the nicctin' in the Collins house over 
 there was beginnin' to hum, in walks Jim an' 
 Beverly, with their arms (ull o' eatin', an' piles it 
 on the rag-carpet. They makes seven trips from 
 the gate, an' the floor was a sight. You 'd ought 
 to seed the younkits' eyes shine — had n't' had a 
 square meal fer a month ; an' when a sack o' pip- 
 pins bust open, each gralibed two apples, an' said, 
 'Mammy, look!' an' she couldn't look (er cryin' 
 to see the children that happy. To cap it all, Jim 
 unties a burlap poke, an' shakes out on top o' the 
 heap a little white, live pig, an' when the shoat 
 dived under the bed, squealing Uke a steam kal- 
 leyope, he struck an attitude, like Washington 
 crossin' the Alps, an' sez: 'Bretherin an' sisterin,' 
 ha sez, in the langwidge o( the pote lariat, 'what 's 
 the matter with that sort o' religion?' he sez. 'I 
 say it 's got more fillin' into it,' he sez, 'than any 
 sarmeflt these sky-pilots could cawnkoct in their 
 pullpits,' he sez, 'in a month o' Sundays,' he sez. 
 'I 'm sorry (er this aflSicted (ambly,' he sez ; 'I 'm 
 sorry, at the least cackleation, eleven dollars' 
 worth o' grub,' he sez, 'an' I 'II bet a boss the 
 angels '11 say it 's all hunkidory. 'That 'ere cheese 
 is a whole mite-society itseK,' he sez. 'You git a 
 
46 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 like h^^^h " ^°l''' "" '" " ''<=^P °' f°dder 
 
 o his folks stummicks fer some time,' he sez, 'or 
 even longer,' he sez. 
 
 "An' old Deacon Somers brushed the dust 
 offen h.s knees^ an' sez. That's good enuf relig- 
 
 n\ '": r*'' ^"'"^ '""^' ''^^'= ^e-" that load 
 to this needy fambly,' he sez. 
 
 "J'™ he flares up, an' snorts out: 'Not by a 
 
 jugful, he sez. 'I hauled that load myself. That 
 
 r u°l •""' '^°"'' ^° °" "^'^ '""d o' poles. I 
 
 ause all'V '"? '=°"''="°" '" ""= Sool o' the 
 
 saplin' "^ '"""o-ne,' he sez, stiflFer 'n a 
 
 "Thl!''l T^ u>\^"f^ '° ''" suns, an- sez: 
 even if thi 71 1'""' ^f ""•' ''"^ ^ord sent it, 
 even if the devil brung it,' he sez. An' Beverly 
 
 he sez Amen, an- begins to sing like a starling! 
 an everyone jmed in, Jim and all. He has the 
 reel stuflT in him, Beverly hes, an' it's a bun^n' 
 shame to see him abused." 
 
 Barney's twinkling eyes galloped as he eave 
 himself to unchecked mirth in memory of*^he 
 
 "utcom '"f p'' ?'""^ '°''^^'' '"•<' the ample 
 outcome of Beverly's strategy. 
 
 The straggler's story was finished. He raised 
 his battered hat, and, turning abruptly wXl 
 away without another word. 
 
 But the mother sat still long after the Uttle 
 gate had closed behind "the Minfy's" dro, figu ' 
 Her eyes were looking toward the East, and they 
 filled with tears, now and then, for her only son 
 
The Home of the Ronans 47 
 
 the pride and hope of her life, a prisoner away off 
 there behind the Une of hills that touched the sky. 
 
 As soon as Barney reached his home, he told 
 the story of Beverly's imprisonment to his wife. 
 When the recital of it was finished, he asked: 
 "Who would gain anything by this outrageous 
 trick, Nora dear? Who could want Bev Ronan 
 out of the way ? " 
 
 "Why, Barney, I can see that wid half an eye. 
 Do n't yoii know Beverly dotes on Barbara Law- 
 son, and that ould thief o' the worid. Dr. Deynell 
 is trying to jrit her. He has been making eyes to 
 her, or thryin' to, fer a long time. He foil in love 
 with her whin she was nursin' her mother at one 
 of his hospitals. Bad cesi to him for a quack. 
 The gallows will never havS its due till it gets 
 him." 
 
 "Begorra, an' it 's right you are ; but tell me, 
 did you ever hear tell of Deynell and Bat Mooney 
 coUoguin' togither?" 
 
 "I did. I seen them togither onct." 
 
 "You did, then; an' where was it, darlin'?" 
 
 "Sure, an' it was out beyond Mark's woods an' 
 the 'Cademy road. The doctor he were settin' 
 in his gig, an* Bat were a-standin' chattin' at the 
 wheel, an' they was talkin' close like, confaydental 
 as ould cronies. 'The Lord made an' the devil 
 matched them,' I sez to myself, as I passed by. 
 'Justice won't be done till they are both put where 
 the dogs won't bite them.' " 
 
 Barney suddenly resumed his headgear that 
 he had removed on entering the hut, and started 
 
48 
 
 A Modern ApoUog 
 
 for the door, saying: "Good-bye, Nora; I must eo 
 to the city and see Bat Mooney. I may be eone 
 a week. Good-bye." 
 
 "Sure, an' he is in a bit of a hurry now," Nora 
 said to herself, as she stood in the low doorway 
 and watched her husband until he disappeared 
 among the great rocks of the quarry. 
 
 The' roaring city, with its hurrying crowds and 
 blazing shop-windows, had many attractions for 
 iiarney, but he allowed nothing to make him for- 
 get the purpose for which he had come His 
 first move was to hunt up a policeman whom he 
 had known years before. After a little search the 
 officer was found, and Barney told him that he 
 wanted to find Bat Mooney. The policeman was 
 acquainted with Mooney, and willing to give his 
 address, but he first asked: "What do you want 
 him for. Barney? Is there any harm in yer 
 errand ?" ' 
 
 Barney assured him that there was none, and 
 
 then the oflicer's reserve melted, and he said: 
 
 Yer just in time, Barney; another week an' ye 
 
 would be too late. Mooney is at his sister's, in 
 
 H Court, No. 413." 
 
 Barney lost no time in reaching H Court and 
 after walking along a narrow close, he reached 
 the last house in the row. It was a malodorous, 
 dingy place, and Barney did not knock at the door 
 but passed along the little alleyway to the rear' 
 and, stepping down a few steps, looked in at the 
 basement door. Within a wholesome-faced woman 
 was washing. Barney recognized her as Bat's 
 
The Home of the Ronans 49 
 
 sister at once, and called out, "How arc ye, Mary- 
 Ann Mooney; how is yer good health?" 
 
 "Is that you, Barney Foley?" the woman ex- 
 claimed, hurrying to welcome him. 
 
 "It is ; an' how is Bat to-day?" 
 
 "Very low; the Father is with him within," 
 the sister answered. 
 
 "What ails him?" 
 
 "He was shot in a saloon brawl six months 
 ago. The bullet is in his spinel, an' he is paralyzed 
 from his hips down. Sorra is the day for 'im," 
 and Mary moved toward the next room and 
 opened the door, saying as she did so, "Bat, here 
 is Mr. Foley; you know him?" 
 
 Barney entered the little room, and all he could 
 distinguish at first, in the half Ught, was a gentle- 
 faced priest standing by the window; but as his 
 eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw the 
 man he sought, lying on a pallet of straw. 
 
 Bat Mooney was greatly changed. The skin 
 on his fleshless face was tightly drawn, and his 
 sunken eyes looked sadly at the visitor. His 
 bowed head wagged on his thin neck in recogni- 
 tion, but he could not put out a hand of welcome, 
 though he essayed to do so. A whisper came 
 from his cracked lips, "How are you, Barney?" 
 
 "I 'm well, and sorry you 're so sick," said his 
 visitor. 
 
 All the rasp was out ot Foley's weather-beaten 
 voice. It flowed like the pouring of oil, so kindly 
 was it. 
 
 "I 'm nearly done, Barney." 
 4 
 
: 
 
 5o A Modern ApoUos 
 
 "I do n't know— I hope so." 
 '•Have ye any burden on your sowl?" 
 Many of 'em ; but it 's too late now." 
 
 .*-»^M™^^ ''^f'' °^" "•* ""'« •'^d. and, lookine 
 steadily ,nto the sick man's eyes, he said, 'S 
 tell me why ye hed against Beverly Ronan." 
 
 A look of wonder and terror whitened the wan 
 face of the patient; his eyes seemed to lookTn 
 ward a lump rose in his throat. Mary Ann 
 rushed forward with a glass of cordial; and after 
 a moment the poor wretch managed to say "I 
 Z-!tL:/° '■ '°''- Why^Z was hir^d I^ 
 
 askj^*"" ^"^^^^ ^°" *° '^° "" ''"**•" ^'""^y 
 
 "I'IIonT°"'S*'\"""'" "■= <'y'"» °"«= ''Plied. 
 
 I 11 on y confess Bat Mooney's sins. Be it on his 
 
 head. I have enough transgressions of me own 
 
 to answer for; every one must stand alone at last " 
 
 .'»h. vl? f°" P;"]''^ ''""'■ """'y '" his satchel?" 
 the Mmty" asked. 
 
 schZ^'ilt,'"'* "^^ °" "" '"'"• ^""'"^ f™™ 
 school. I threw my coat on his vaUse, and, while 
 
 Ld f". '!'^^\'"-"'"^^. I clipped the money in 
 andfastened the bag. It was easy to do it " 
 And about the pocket?" said Barney 
 'I was a smooth pickpocket, ye know; and in 
 the crush at the gate I put it in his clothes. Th« 
 was as easy as the other." 
 
 "Bat"-^nd Barney again bent over the 
 shrunken figure-'Mon't you go out with this 
 
The Home of the Ronans 
 
 5» 
 
 crime on your head; I wouldn't if I were you. 
 You can't make your sowl in this condition. Fling 
 the cursed life from you altogether ; your feet are 
 in the cowld river now. Go out clane." 
 
 "O, Barney I" the sick man exclaimed, his voice 
 rising to a shrill whisper, "I am a beast. I was 
 base-born, and my blood ran foul from my birth. 
 I never had a clisnce in life. The alley was my 
 playground, the saloon my home. The scheme 
 was set up against me from the start." 
 
 "Bat, will you swear to what you jest told 
 me?" 
 
 "I wil!, ready enough. I don't want to die 
 with this weight on my mind." 
 
 In a moment Barney had left the room, and 
 was hurrying down the street, and the sick man 
 was alone, save for the gentle, kind-faced priest, 
 who was kneeling by the bedside, his hands enfold- 
 ing a crucifix, and his eyes closed in prayer. 
 
 / 1 hour had elapse'', when Barney returned 
 with an attorney, a notary, and a policeman. The 
 oath of the dying man was taken, and again 
 Barney and the confessor were left alone together 
 in the little room. The sick man's eyes were 
 closed, and au expression of peace had spread 
 over his worn features. Barney bade him fare- 
 well; but the white eyelids were scarcely lifted, 
 and the whispered "Good-bye, Barney," was al- 
 most inaudible. "Bat" was thinking, and his 
 thoughts were far away. He was done with all 
 the sun looks on. 
 
 The two men stepped into the next room, and, 
 after Barney had said farewell to Mary, they 
 
52 A Modern ApoUoj 
 
 passed on into the narrow, dirty street Th • 
 
 Xd'oiT"" '"' -- b,ocV:„Tas?h;' 
 
 "m'Su°o"n: """^^ ""' ^ ''""'-'' '° his priest^; 
 
 -2;K^^.Sr7r^r^ir-- 
 
 eyed, undermmin' runnee-adi. <-r..,i^ i 
 minded little lass? w! t f '""^ " ?•""=- 
 'ud make ye th nk of a 5'' '" ""' '" ^P'*'^'' 
 -hen the fairl'; ha, "eSd Tfl '" Z""^' 
 dance an" throwed sotr I'M .""?"'':" '" » 
 grass." ""*"■ J^ws's on the 
 
 musT'Ledtlruu" '" ''='™^''' ""'"'°-<' -"' 
 
 pf-^efi-is^—s^r;::^ 
 
 -e.^he answered the poor .an brhis sid^'v:;!; 
 
 ".a;berrsii^^s^^\'™''- 
 
 all bad, or all good. WeMlk ni 1° T""" " 
 
 you 're tellin'." "'Sger. i u truth 
 
 At th« .iext corner their ways separated, and 
 
The Home of the Ronans 
 
 S3 
 
 the priest said farewell, with a kindly smile. Bar- 
 ney hastened to the State's Attorney as soon as 
 he could find where his office was situated. In 
 spite of "the Minty's" uncouth appearance, he was 
 ushered into the presence of the attorney. He 
 showed his papers to the lawyer, who seemed 
 somewhat surprised, and pleased also, for he liked 
 Ronan. He said, "I am going to Washington 
 to-morrow. I will lay the case before the Presi- 
 dent, and clinch it with my plea for his release." 
 
 When the matter had been brought to the Pres- 
 ident's notice, an hour's consideration and a few 
 telegrams convinced him that all was straight, and 
 so he signed the pardon. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Prison Doors are Opened 
 
 JrUST before Colonel Satterlee left Washington 
 
 cur-H^r^^'-^'"' ^°"* ''"° P°«""' »»<» had se- 
 at C—T ^°""°° ° *^"''" °' **" ^*"" ^"'"n 
 This was news, indeed; and the Colonel's 
 thoughts turned to the past, when he and John- 
 
 toeetht; "pY """ '"'"'^' called-had been boy, 
 together. Pleasant memories crowded through 
 
 from thT' "" '""J"' °''' '"^""^^ »>""'<> « hfm 
 from the vacancy of his room-a well-loved group 
 long since scattered. ^ 
 
 ninJiL'T"' "1!!"^ °' J"'^'''^ ^""'I '"='' ■■" ™- 
 
 a^ t m'"" 'i'"' '""^ '° ^" ""yhood friend, 
 and he could not do other than rejoice. After 
 al , no friendships are as firm as those of youth. 
 Fires can not consume nor floods destroy, dis- 
 
 tho^e Tl"' '/' '^'"'^'" '^' ''°"d 'hat binds 
 those who have been comrades when their hearts 
 were fresh and youthful. 
 
 As the Colonel held the letter in his hand, he 
 was thinking of his old school days, and of Jack- 
 Jack, with his abounding wit and exuberant zeal. 
 M 
 
Pri»on Doors are Opened 55 
 
 And with thoughts of him returned their rosy 
 visions of the future. He remembered the radiant 
 prophecies of each other's success, and Jack's 
 hopes of fame and wealth for both of them. What 
 aerial castles they had builded, firmament high, 
 fearlessly rearing pillar and lintel, cornice and 
 cope, to the topmost turret, while all the kindly 
 spirits that lackey innocence had cheered him in 
 the congenial task, and had cried rapturously to 
 the capstone, "Grace unto it; grace unto it I" 
 Now, in years later, grace it had none. His 
 dreams and Jack's forecasts had never come true, 
 and each stately edifice had slaked, like a heap 
 of lime, into a shapeless cairn. 
 
 All this and more flitted through memory's 
 alcoves as he pondered the past. But at length 
 the letter in his hand recalled him from his mus- 
 ings, for it contained a cheery invitation to spend 
 
 a week at C , and to visit the institution. C 
 
 was on his homeward way, and he resolved to 
 visit Jack, and asked Philip to accompany him. 
 
 Three days later the Colonel and Philip Ellis 
 were sitting with the warden in the spacious office 
 of the prison. The two old friends were talking 
 of bygone years, seemingly forgetful of the young 
 man, who sat a quiet and interested listener at 
 a little distance from them. After talking thus 
 for some time, recalling neighbors, living and 
 dead, telling of merry holidays and stirring ad- 
 ventures long forgotten, and asking, "Do you 
 remember?" fifty times at least. Jack rose, and 
 asked his two visitors to follow him. 
 
 He showed them the vast penal institution 
 
 I 
 
$6 A Modern ApoIIoi 
 
 vrithin .he gray wall,, with it, iron g.,e, .„d «„! 
 cell, u, workshop, and quarry, it, cooking-hou,e 
 «>d pantry, and it, dungeon, for ,oIiUry confine! 
 
 ock-.teppmg to dmner, a county .heriflf brought 
 
 LethTr°Z,° ~"<'"""^'' offender,. shackUd 
 
 ogether. Elh, went with them down the corridor 
 
 to the iron gate, to study their face, a, the riveted 
 
 door ,hut them in for life. The old men had'm- 
 
 Clnl !"• * ''* °' "" y°""e" °"" '""Shed 
 brazenly, and one youthful wrong-doer wept. The 
 
 them"off%T.' rr"' '"" " '"P-'y ""-"ed 
 them off to the barber-,hop to be cropped and 
 
 ItZ^ ^°1;. '"'1""°"» "ew, Phil still foUowed 
 them, and hstened to the questions put by the Re- 
 corder. When the young man, who alone seemed 
 ashamed of h.s disgrace, was asked the names of 
 
 telUhat." "^ '° '"'""' "^"«' "^ ^°'>'' 
 
 "You must," said the writer, "or go to the 
 sohtary till you do." 
 
 He was silent a moment, and then said, "I 
 dont want them to be crushed with my trouble " 
 nj ,. *"■ '""Pan'on whispered, "Give any 
 
 Then the youth said, oe Bowers and Sally 
 Bowers, and the squad laughed at the sorry jest^ 
 
 th, nffl *"'»'" /'"4,'''* ^i'itor^ were returning to 
 the office, and the Cofonel was trying to shut out 
 the abysmal misery of it all by cheerful conversa- 
 
Prison Doors are Opened 57 
 
 tion when a "trusty" entered, bearing a mail-bag, 
 and laid a heap of letters on the warden's desk. 
 Jack picked up a long official envelope from among 
 the others, opened it, and drawing out a legal docu- 
 ment, said to Philip, "Did you ever see the signa- 
 ture of the President of the United States?" 
 "No, sir," Philip answered. 
 "Tjif e •' «; look at it," returned the Warden. 
 Philip scanned the autograph a moment, and 
 then asked, "What is the purport of this paper?" 
 "It is a pardon for a United States prisoner. 
 You see, our Nation has not sufficient accommo- 
 dation for alt its felons, and consequently some are 
 farmed out to States that have room for them at 
 »o many dollars a year per head. 
 
 "Jail officers believe that one out of every 
 ten convicts is innocent," continued the warden; 
 "and here is a case in point. This young man, 
 Beverly Ronan, was accused of counterfeiting. 
 Spurious money was found on his person. He 
 offered no defense, and so was convicted and sent 
 up for twelve years. Now, after two years, evi- 
 dence is found which proves that he was not guilty. 
 This evidence has been laid before the President, 
 who has sent his pardon at once." 
 
 "Does the man expect it?" Philip asked. 
 "No ; he knows nothing of it." 
 "When does it take effect?" 
 "Immediately; as soon as I read it to him, he 
 has his liberty." 
 
 "Warden, will you grant me a favor?" 
 "Certainly, Mr. Ellis; name it." 
 
If' 
 
 58 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 I Hke to itudy the human face when iwept by 
 great joy. -Permit me to break the good news 
 to the man. will you? I ihall enjoy it hugely " 
 "Afiuredly." 
 "Where ia he now?" 
 
 "He is in the library. He aisist. the chaplain 
 by carmg for the books and distributing them. 
 He IS our telegrapher also. Step here, and you 
 can see him." 
 
 Captain Ellis looked, and saw a stalwart youth 
 of twenty-four years, whose striking manliness 
 01 face and figure contrasted strongly with the 
 shameful stripes he wore. He was sitting, with 
 his elbow upon his desk, his brow resting medi- 
 tatively upon his hand; and despite his clipped hair 
 and coarse garb it was evident that he was a stu- 
 dent, as he rose to attend to some duty Ellis 
 marked him as a man of fortitude and a high free 
 spirit. His elastic step and athletic figure com- 
 pelled attention ; and men would stop to study him 
 on the street, wishing they had his physical in- 
 heritance. 
 
 The warden struck a bell, and said to the 
 trusty who answered his summons, "Tell No 
 713 to come to me at once." He then turned to 
 Phihp, and said: "You will break the good news 
 to him, and use some care in doing so. Excessive 
 joy IS sometimes overpowering." 
 
 As No. 713 entered the office, it was evident 
 that he was disturbed at the summons. Apparently 
 he was expecting a reprimand. The warden said 
 simply, Ronan, this gentleman desires to speak 
 to you." "^ 
 
Priion Doon are Opened 59 
 
 The prisoner, with • look of mingled wonder 
 «nd ladneu, fixed hit eyei upon Ellii, and itood 
 waiting. 
 
 Philip rose and, advancing toward him, asked, 
 "Is your name Beverly Ronan, and are you from 
 Delhurst, in the State of Illinois?" 
 "Ves, sir." 
 
 "That being so, I have a paper for you." 
 "Former 
 
 "Yes, for you. It is of chief importance, and 
 bears the signature of the President of the United 
 States." 
 
 Amazement lighted the pale face of the convict 
 for an instant, and his spirit kindled with the fire 
 of hope, while inviolable sincerity shone in his 
 deep, dark eyes. As if tightening the curb chain 
 on his leaping soul, he said, quietly, and his voice 
 dropped a semi-tone: "May I ask what the docu- 
 ment is, sir?" 
 
 Ellis looked fixedly into the man's eyes, to 
 steady him, and answered, gently, "Mr. Ronan, 
 it is a pardon." 
 
 A great hope clutched his heart and whitened 
 his face, his nostrils dilated, and his lips twitched 
 nervously, turning livid as the blood left them. 
 
 "A pardon I" he gasped, and, with unutterable 
 pathos, he continued: "You are not trifling with 
 me, sir? You would not do that ?" And his voice 
 vibrated with the intensity of his feeling. 
 
 "No, sir; here is the ofiicial paper, signed, 
 sealed, and delivered— a pardon for you, full and 
 complete. At this very moment you are no more 
 a prisoner than I." 
 
6o 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 As bursts a dyke when a swollen mountain 
 over shoulders at it. so his self-restraint went out 
 before the flood of his unutterable joy. His strong 
 figure, swaying like a sapling in a storm, would 
 have fallen but for PhiUp's supporting hand. In 
 a moment, however, he recovered himself, and 
 stood, gazing wistfully through the open door to 
 the nver beyond the wide gateway, where a sentry 
 with loaded rifle kept guard. Then, turning to 
 the warden, he asked: "Have I now the liberty to 
 go out there? May I pass unharmed ?" 
 
 Before the deputy could answer, Philip linked 
 his arm m that of the convict, saying, "Come." 
 
 And the warden made a sign to the sentinel, 
 who stood aside to let them pass. Through the 
 p-eat arch of the gateway and across the road 
 they went, over the lawn, far down to the river's 
 edge. Philip could feel his companion thrill as 
 he looked at the clear stream, cuffed into opales- 
 cent ripple by the wind, and as he pastured his 
 hungry eyes on the distant hills that sloped away 
 to the cloud-flecked sky. Suddenly he broke away 
 ran twenty paces along the bank, stopped, and 
 facmg the far shore, with Hfted hands, flung from 
 heart and lips the shout: "O God, I am free I I 
 am free! I am free!" And as the hollow woods 
 tossed back the echo of his thrice-repeated cry, he 
 sat down on the grass, and wept like a little child. 
 After this burst of emotion the two young men 
 walked slowly back to the prison, and Ronan 
 asked, "When will it be possible for me to go 
 home?" 
 
 "The train starts at five o'clock," the other re- 
 
Prison Doors are Opened 6i 
 
 plied, "and so you will have several hours in which 
 to get ready for your journey. The State will 
 furnish you with a railroad ticket, a suit of civil- 
 ian's apparel, and ten dollars. These are yours 
 by law." 
 
 An hour later, Beverly Ronan came into the 
 office. The vulgar stripes had been laid aside, and 
 his tall figure presented as fine a specimen of stal- 
 wart manhood as one would find in a week's search. 
 He asked permission to say farewell to some of 
 the men whom he was leering. The warden will- 
 ingly gave his consent, and Philip, at Ronan's re- 
 quest, accompanied him to share in his new-found 
 happiness. 
 
 Together they sought out a few friendly crim- 
 inals, chiefly young men whom Beverly had tried 
 to reform. Their stolid faces softened a little at 
 his parting words, and as he left one after an- 
 other, their eyes followed him with a strange, wist- 
 ful look. Perhaps Ronan's example and endeavor 
 to help had not been entirely in vain. 
 
 A message had to be sent to the mother at 
 Delhurst, and Beverly sat down to the telegraph 
 key and ticked a message that was sweeter to her 
 than the harps of heaven could ever be; for it 
 read : "Your son is free. Tell Barbara." 
 
 While the message was being sent, Philip was 
 standing near the rattling instrument, and, notic- 
 ing a book lying near at hand, he lifted it, and 
 saw that it was a text-book — ^Vinet's "Pastoral 
 Theology." He curiously asked, "Is this your 
 recreation ?" 
 
 The message was finished and Beverly rose. 
 
 
63 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 saying as he did so: "O no. You must under- 
 stand that I was, when arrested, a student for the 
 numstry, at home on my summer vacation I was 
 almost through my college course. It was hard 
 for me to give it up, and— well, I didn't give it 
 up entirely; for an inner voice whispered that my 
 name would be cleared some day, and so I have 
 studied here. As my duties occupied only a part 
 of my time, the chaplain obtained the warden's 
 permission for me to read the books which he 
 brought me occasionally. In this way I have kept 
 pace with my class, studying the same books, and 
 I could graduate with my classmates now that my 
 reputation is clear of evil. I must lose that honor, 
 however. Commencement-day at the college 
 comes next month. O that I might be among the 
 theologues, as I once was! But I must bear my 
 burden, and it will be for the best." 
 
 For a moment a shadow darkened his face; 
 the jaw was squared, and the sense of injury kin- 
 dled vmdictive fires in the windows of the soul- 
 but they died away in the happy light that free- 
 dom had brought to his eyes. There was one 
 more place to be visited before his departure It 
 was the hospital. A few wretched creatures said 
 farewell to him with a smile for his happiness and 
 an inward pang because they would miss his visits 
 and his uplifting influence in the dreary, hopeless 
 days of the future. 
 
 He talked long with an old man. Hahn by name 
 a consumptive burglar, who had been hardened by 
 years of crime; and yet, as the young man bent 
 over the bed and talked with him. it was evident 
 
Priion Doon arc Opened 63 
 
 that there was a soul under that mean bodily 
 
 waTto il "tV" «""'y.^— had found the 
 way to It The pemtent thief had just finished a 
 Irtter, and he gave it to Beverly with faltering 
 hands, saying: "Open that after I am dead. I 
 heard your pardon had come. I knew it would. 
 Uod bless you I" 
 
 In the meantime, from the town office, the war- 
 den had wired the President of a certain college 
 p/r!f *7f = ''B«=^"'y Ronan found innocent, 
 lardoned by President, and now set free. Has 
 
 ShTsr:."- «-"- —ance to graduate 
 In forty minutes came back the reply: "Presi- 
 dent and whole college overjoyed. Let Ronan 
 come at once to examinations and graduate with 
 nis class. 
 
 When the last farewell in the hospiul had been 
 said and Ronan had returned to the office, the 
 warden handed him the telegram. He read it, but 
 said not a word at first ; for his heart was overfall 
 of thanksgiving. When at last he spoke, he said 
 softly, a. If to himself: "My night is far spent; 
 my day is at hand." "^ ' 
 
 It would be necessary, then, for him to go to 
 the coUege at once, and, an hour later, Philip and 
 he were standing at the railway station. There 
 was time only for a friendly hand-cUsp. As the 
 tram started, Beverly was saying: "Speech can 
 not express my gratitude. I feel now that mv 
 sorrows are ended." ' ' 
 
 Alas I they were only begun. 
 
. CHAPTER V 
 Love's Young Dream 
 
 THE home of Colonel Satterles was in Miilbank, 
 a suburb of the city of X . Beyond the 
 
 great highway and its clattering factories, amid 
 beautiful meadows and rich pastures, was the 
 county road on which the Colonel's home was situ- 
 ated—a thoroughfare so winding that it crossed 
 Otter Creek three times in one mile. 
 
 The home itself, tucked in between two hills, 
 ^n ancient stone mansion of modest size, with nu- 
 merous porches, was almost hidden by iirs. An or- 
 chard surrounded it, and a few oaks overtopped 
 the fruit-trees and stood like sentinels looking 
 out over the undulating sweep of country. An 
 iron gate opened upon the drive; and the lawn, 
 dotted with clumps of shrubbery, sloped to the 
 roadside wall, which was of rubble, topped with 
 a capping of flagstones. Som: distance in the 
 rear of the house, and invisible from the road, was 
 a commodious barn with fenced yard. All the 
 place seemed well kept. It was evident that the 
 tenant— Michael Downey— had earned his wages 
 by faithfully caring for the estate during the war. 
 
 There was a stir of preparation for the land- 
 lord', arrival ; for the Colonel was on his way home. 
 On the day of his expected return, Downey drove 
 
Love's Young Dream 65 
 
 to the station to meet him, and greeted him with 
 genuine Milesian exuberance. 
 
 As the Colonel and Philip were driven home, 
 the older man pointed out the various farms of his 
 neighbors, occasionally asking Michael a question 
 as to what change's had occurred during his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 When the carriage swung through the gate- 
 way mto the drive, the Colonels daughter came 
 runnmg down the walk to meet them. The hound 
 --Pluto— bounded after her, leaping and barking, 
 along the brick walk. Downey had scarcely pulled 
 the horses in when the Colonel leaped over the 
 wheel, and father and child were folded in a warm 
 embrace. Edith was saying: 
 
 "At last I At last I O how happy I am I Safe 
 at home, unharmed. Sometimes I feared I would 
 never see you again." 
 
 The driver took the Captain up to the porch, 
 and as he alighted, the father and daughter came 
 up the steps. ElUs thought, as he was introduced 
 to the fair hostess, that he had rarely seen a love- 
 lier woman; but his opinion in the matter would 
 be worth little, for he had been a stranger to 
 society, and knew little of women. Every one of 
 the sex was comely to him, and all were good 
 yet he was sor.iewhat diffidem in approaching 
 them; so he stood at "attetition," hat in hand, and 
 bowed rather awkwardly as she said: 
 
 "And this is Captain Ellis. Father wrote me 
 that he owed his life to you. I wish I could com- 
 mand some gracious words to acknowledge the 
 great debt we all owe you." 
 S 
 
66 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 "He overstates the case, Miss Satterlee. I 
 merely helped him ofiF the field when he was badly 
 injured. It was the commonest kind of a service, 
 and any humane man could have done no less." 
 
 "Well," she retorted, archly, and a smile flitted 
 across her exquisite face, "I am afraid I must ac- 
 cept my father's version of the story. We shall 
 try to show our gratitude while you are here. I 
 hope that you will feel that you are very wel- 
 come to our home. Please be seated, and your 
 baggage will be taken to your room. You must 
 try to fill the place of my brave brother, who fell 
 at Fair Oaks." 
 
 At that moment a tall lady in black emerged 
 from the great doorway and came toward thera. 
 Edith rose and said: 
 
 "This is my aunt, Mrs. Redmond, papa's sister, 
 who keeps house for us and looks after me when 
 he is away." 
 
 Philip bowed to a rotund, capable matron, who 
 eyed him sharply, yet not unkindly, as he stole 
 furtive glances at her niece. 
 
 While Mrs. Redmond chatted affably, Ellis 
 managed to study the girl quite closely, remem- 
 bering Major Marley's warning. The Colonel had 
 joined the group after a short conference with 
 Downey, and, as his daughter stood by his chair, 
 rufHing his iron-gray hair with her slender fingers, 
 she made a winsome picture indeed, full of in- 
 stinctive fascination. She was slightly below the 
 medium height and weight— a very graceful figure. 
 Her heavy blonde hair waved slightly over her low, 
 broad forehead, and the stray locks turned to 
 
Love's Young Dream 67 
 
 sold under the touch of the sun. Her eyes were 
 clear anire, gentle and bright as a sunUt well. A 
 moderately straight nose, with lips firm and full, 
 completed a face of most unusual attractiveness. 
 She was wearing a white dress; and a cluster of 
 scarlet flowers at her waist gave just the necessary 
 touch of color. 
 
 That uneluddated influence which men have 
 agreed to call "charm" followed her every motion, 
 as the obligato keeps pace with the tune. Her 
 placid artlessness was winsome. 
 
 A smile chased away a dash of tears as her 
 father told of his wound; and for a moment the 
 white hand on his head had paused in its caress- 
 ing — ^but only for a moment. 
 
 Ellis soon discovered, as every one who knew 
 the Colonel's daughter could not fail to learn, that, 
 in spite of her numerous attractive quaUties there 
 was one that was strikingly prominent. It was 
 her voice. So sweet was it, so full of rich tones 
 and rippling semi-tones, that the young soldier 
 thought, as he Ustened, "Surely, she has suffered 
 much." Her face was unlined, and her form was 
 erect; but her accents had a scope, a fullness of 
 musical modulations such as ring the bells in 
 the Ustener's soul when slave melodies are heard. 
 As a wind stirs an ^olian harp set in a muUioned 
 wmdow, so her voice seemed to vibrate under the 
 mfluence of her spirit's sUghtest manifestation, 
 and follow it through all its sinuosities. 
 
 ''It would make a sonneteer out of a section 
 hand, one of her friends often said. 
 
 "I hope," Ellis soliloquized, while Mrs. Red- 
 
68 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 nioiid was speaking, "that Marley never wins her. 
 It would be the mating of a dove and a buzzard. 
 I Tl do nothing to forward the match, that is 
 settled" His soliloquy was interrupted at this 
 juncture by Michael, who appeared to conduct the 
 visitor to his room, an apartment on the second 
 no ir, near the Colonel's. 
 
 After supper that evening, Philip retired early, 
 bemg weary, and desiring a chance to rest and 
 think. 'I 11 not stay here long," he cogitated, 
 when alone. "If I do, I '11 make a fool of myself 
 with this lady. There is a charm about her that 
 I can not resist. Perhaps I might win her in a 
 fair race with Marley; but I have no home or 
 C.V1C standing, no profession or weahh, not even 
 a pedigree. I am a nobody— do n't even know my 
 parentage. My ancestry is a cipher with the rim 
 rubbed out, while she comes from a fine English 
 family and is heiress to the Colonel's riches. She 
 shows her fine ancestry in every movement. What 
 would n t a man do for a woman like that? She 
 sertns daughter of a line of diademed sires. Phil 
 Ellis, don't be a saphead. Write to one of the 
 boys of Company D to send you a telegram at 
 once, calling you to his sick-bed, and the-; go 
 Do you hear? Got O do n't be silly 1 She cares 
 nothing for you, and never will. But what of 
 that If I care for her? But do I? What ails me, 
 I wonder I Wish the war had kept on and a bullet 
 had struck me. No, ' don't, either. I 'm all 
 balled up, as the teamsters say; haven't the sense 
 of a squirrel. Well, I '11 get out of here as soon 
 as I can decently; but I won't be unraannerly 
 
Love's Young Dream 
 
 69 
 
 about it. I '11 stay as long as I like." Having 
 arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, Ellis fell 
 asleep. 
 
 The three weeks spent in the Colonel's home 
 were wonderful in their smooth-flowing pleasure 
 and widening of life's aspect to the young officer. 
 Under the careless, foolhardy, roving disposition 
 was a substratum of pure gold. Few knew it. 
 Certainly he did not realize it himself. He had 
 been guilty of the common mean actions of men ; 
 knew that he was coarse at times, unruly, and 
 selfish; one or two low tricks, of no great gravity, 
 crimsoned his brow when he thought of them, and 
 made him fancy himself worse than other men ; but 
 these were surface flaws. The young soldier war. 
 rich in all the elements of primitive virtue, despite 
 a kind of shy uncouthness, and worthy of any 
 woman's esteem. Truth to tell, he had admired 
 Edith at long range since he heard Marley's de- 
 scription of her, and found himself wondering if 
 she cared for him. 
 
 "I am unfit to be here," he mused. "It is plain 
 impertinence to occupy their time any longer. I 
 won't stay." And yet he went not. Is not this 
 ever the way of a man with a maid ? 
 
 Philip Ellis was forty fathoms deep in love, 
 and did not know what ailed him. He feared to' 
 ask himself the plain truth. He had corns to a 
 crisis in his life. This visit was to mate or mar 
 all his future. Sometimes a great power stirred 
 deep in his spirit, an upheaval of something striv- 
 mg to be born. Manhood's noblest self lay cov- 
 ered with rubbish in the man's being. A voice 
 
A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 within him cried, "C«it yourielf into the flood- 
 go with It where you may;" but he .tood .hud- 
 denng on the brmk, not afraid, but bewildered. 
 He needed just the development that a pure love 
 would bnng Unwittingly he wa, yeaning for 
 
 Int ■ I'^l devotement of man and woman 
 Unconsciously be was laying all of hi, vulgar and 
 .elfish attributes on the one great altar aSd the 
 Jioly flame. It was an unseen sacrifice made by a 
 •trong man in the secret place. There could be 
 ■o earthly witnesses. 
 
 .h=?^^ ^^ t"' *""''"«• "^'"» *'"' her, he was 
 warS * ^'" ''"' '°™t™" ""Iting in- 
 
 It was the breaking of Ufc's seal, and all its 
 fie^r mne was poured out. The very sky had 
 vaster breadth, the grass a tenderer green. 
 
 O, this mystery of sex! The deepest of all 
 deeps highest of all heights, plucking open the 
 secret cells of life I A spiritual thing mainly; for 
 man and woman diflfer in the essence of their souls 
 As language hungers for music to bear it ; as music 
 
 unto that of woman ever crieth its voiceless prayer. 
 Does not woman's spirit reflect one side of the 
 Deity, and man's the other? When joined, do 
 they not, in mutual peace, mirror the Divine? 
 And If parted, how deep the abyss, how measure- 
 less the loss I 
 
 Philip vaguely felt these longings, and he could 
 not go away. He remembered hearing a scholar 
 
 l! I 
 
Love'i Young Dream 71 
 
 ••y, "No one can tell what a man will do (or the 
 woman he love«." The saying was enigmatical at 
 the time, but crystal clear now. 
 
 One evening the lovers sat together in a sum- 
 mer-house overloolcing the road. Day was declin- 
 ing into the husk of darkness like a lily into its 
 sheath. Edith had been s;'ging an old ballad 
 which made his heart fountains leap, to a guitar 
 accompaniment; and Philip, as he watched her 
 and listened to her voice in the half-light, was 
 dreaming. Of all Love's speeches, silence is most 
 eloquent. Tranced, he heard the lazy wash of 
 summer seas on shelving silver sands, the tinkle 
 of a fern-hid rill over pebbled shoals, a dawn- 
 waked robin piping to his sleepy mate, a flute-note 
 on a mountain lake. From Millbank came the 
 laughter of children dancing at evening on the 
 green and chanting the ancient chorus, "London 
 Bridge is falling down, falling down, and we are 
 passing under," as they circled, hand in hand. The 
 moon came up over the shoulder of a hill, and laid 
 panels of light across the lawn between the trees. 
 The music and the glamour of the night con- 
 spired with every other influence oi the time and 
 place to lure them into the cosmic march. Faintly 
 about them flowed the strophes of the stars. 
 
 The fireflies wove mystic flame-patterns 
 through the purple dusk, and the fragrance of clover 
 lay on the warm air. A night-hawk shuffled down 
 the wind, a cowbell chimed far away, and the water 
 falling over the milldam murmured ceaselessly 
 its sibilant cadence, softly roughing summer's 
 voluptuous languor. A whip-poor-will fluted in a 
 
7* 
 
 A Modern Apollot 
 
 S .'!i 
 
 copie clo.e at hand, and Philip, beini led he kn*. 
 nc. whither, a.ked Edith. .•h';w ca'Je' tha't'^ 
 neit into your young voice?" 
 "Sadness ?" she said. 
 
 "Ves; not in the words, but in the tone. Have 
 you seen much grief?" 
 
 of ^P' '^"'''''' '""'"* '° ""y «" increment 
 
 S Sn'''' ^°^ "'''''''""'''"•''''"« '•'-«'• 
 "Not much; less than most women. But my 
 mother suffered greatly. I ,hi„k i i„heri, her 
 voce from what father ha, told me. Her life w. 
 like a beatitude of spring-time, ,:.1I of gracile 
 b rches and water rippling under al<|rr shad^ .„! 
 broidered on a cerecloth." 
 
 "Where did she die ?" 
 
 "In this house." 
 
 "How old were you ?" 
 
 "I was about five years old." 
 
 "Do you remember her?" 
 
 ». '7!" '. ''*^' " nebulous memory of her I 
 w.. led to her bedside and told that she waTdy 
 mg. I "call a pale face framed in brown h^r, 
 and large gray eyes looking wistfully into mte 
 She was too weak to speak much; but her eyes 
 
 few words, sad as a dove's call when taboring 
 beside a deserted tomb." •"unng 
 
 '•Her burial was near here, I suppose?" 
 in tl, u "" """ '°''«^" ">*' '"ne. It was 
 I did not know then what I had lost. I have 
 
Love'i Young Dream 73 
 
 iMrned iince, > long, long '.eiion. Often I go to 
 the mound and ijt there ',n the •ummer-time. I 
 with she had lived till I could repay lome of her 
 renunciation for irr." 
 
 "The hurt has not ye', healed ?" he asked, g.nt'y. 
 "No; it grows sorer all the time. It v i:' m ■■ r 
 heal in this world. I should not mourn 1 ,v it 
 for I have father. He has tried to b.. i r\tiiii.ij 
 to me." 
 
 Silence fell again, and both were t: iiiJnf; .\.. 
 length Edith asked, "Has there been m .(.I tr ^i (.:.• 
 in your life?" 
 
 'There has been lit'Ie else," he replied. 
 "Would you mind telling me about it ?" 
 "I should be only too glad to do that; but, 
 after all, there is not much to tell. My homeless- 
 ness as I grew up and the desire to know about 
 my people have been my worst trials." 
 
 "Do you know anything of your parents ?" 
 "Nothing about my father ; but I have learned 
 that my mother died at sea, when coming from 
 Wales, and that she was buried in the ocean. I 
 was sent, as a child, to an Orphan's Home, and 
 have had a joyless life. Only in the army did I 
 find any happiness." 
 
 "But, Mr. Ellis, that cheerless time is past, and 
 the future is bright." 
 
 "On the contrary, it is darker than the past. 
 I would rather go back than go on." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" she asked. "You have 
 youth and talent and friends." 
 "Who are the friends?" 
 "You have our family at least." 
 
74 
 
 A Modern Apolloa 
 
 "Yet," he acknowledged, with a smile. 
 Again they were silent in meditation. A beeUe 
 droned and bumped on the floor, and a nestUnjt 
 chirped m the thick leaves. The moon shook off 
 her hood of cloud, and all t..; valley lay transfie- 
 ured m the radiant li^t. 
 
 The man and woman were delivered into each 
 others hands. From afar they were drawn to- 
 gether by destiny. As the fire of Philip's pure 
 passion burned, it consumed the cords that had 
 kept his highest nature bound. Something within 
 his soul seemed to rise up and fling all the wretched 
 past from him. "I can offer nothing of that," he 
 thought; "all must be holy." And he put it away 
 utterly and forever. The Divine way of destroying 
 evil m a human soul is to burn it up by the flame 
 of an all-consuming desire. 
 
 He was surprised, on looking across at her 
 to see a tear on her cheek. Pity is neighbor to 
 I^ve; and Philip Ellis was mastered, for he felt 
 that It was the destined moment. The shadow on 
 the dial of his fate turned backward from that 
 hour. WeU he realized that, as was the depth of 
 his manhood, so was the height of her womanhood. 
 Could he ascend to it? "Try," his heart urged, 
 try! He rose and came close to her. 
 _ "Edith I" His voice broke, but he steadied it. 
 Edith, thert is one blessing that would light all 
 my future." 
 
 "What is it, Philip?" she asked, gently. 
 It is you." 
 "I?" 
 "You, Edith. Heaven help me, I have only a 
 
Love's Young Dream 75 
 
 poor man's heart and hand to offer ; but they shall 
 both serve you while life endures." 
 
 The girl bowed her head, and he went on, his 
 voice vibrant with feeling, "I will give you time, 
 Edith, for a decision — all the time you want." Her 
 face was lifted, illumined, as she said : "I need no 
 time, PhiHp." 
 
 "You accept my heart and hand now?" he 
 asked, almost too happy to believe it could be 
 true. 
 
 "Both," she answered ; and he felt a soft hand 
 laid in his, as he leaned down for the kiss that 
 sealed their compact. With the meeting of the 
 lips, as heart with heart was joined in union, life's 
 highest level was won. 
 
 A long time they sat there, saying little. Once 
 he spoke. "I have' lived all my days for this hour," 
 he said. As they walked toward the house, Edith 
 said, "Life seems to have a meaning now;" and 
 for answer he took her hand in his. 
 
 The Colonel sat, smoking, on the veranda, and 
 Ellis resolved to trll him at once. Hand in hand 
 they went to hira, and Philip said: 
 
 "Colonel, you little knew what you were doing 
 for me when ;ou invited me to your home." 
 
 "A little in return for what you did for me at 
 Chancellorsville," the older man replied. 
 
 "I hope I have not abused yonr trust in me." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "I have asked your daughter to be my wife." 
 
 "You have? And what was her answer?" 
 
 "She has given me her promise," replied Ellis, 
 looking down at the Uttle figure at his side. 
 
A Modern ApoUos 
 
 his Zf'" ""u "" ^°'°""' "' "^ ™"« broke over 
 tas face, perhaps you folks think this is news to 
 me. J^am not blind. I saw it coming, and Tsui^: 
 
 week?'l h?'''r '^' '^°'°"''' "*'"""« ««= 'ast few 
 
 land i'^'^V"'''^ °^" ™y y°""' i" n-erry Eng 
 
 land where I won her mother long ago.'^ A^d 
 
 h^s face grew grave as he spoke. When thev Wt 
 
 hjm he .i^Hed deeply, and continued to b'riod 
 
 ofthe^Ct." *"'" ^"' '''°''^' '" "•« --^v" 
 
 A most lovable human soul was this veteran 
 
 and the fame of his odd, kindly ways ha7 ton,' 
 
 out through an the borough. ^ ^°"' 
 
 Though bom in Britain and proud of the ex- 
 
 a ted history of Albion, he was more pa n^ticTn 
 
 than m^roJ"^*''' '='"'"" °' °" ^-' ^^c 
 regarded h,s country as trustee for unborn genefa! 
 t.ons holding in sacred stewardship the prS, 
 on which rest the inalienable rights of man. ^ 
 
 Every Fourth of July he purchased about 
 half a wagon load , f firecrackers, and at eight o 
 
 uted them to the boys and girls who came for 
 miles to receive them. Hundreds of voung hearU 
 were made happy by the noisv offerinrwhich he 
 laidannually on th« altar of Young America. 
 
 it s the best use you can put powder to" 
 he often said. "The sm^ folks Im n^^'r for^t 
 
 frsOriV.' 
 
Love's Young Dream 77 
 
 the ftm, and a few fingers more or less will never 
 be tniued in the final round-up." 
 
 On the night of that explosive day he gave 
 the elders a great treat also. For their delight he 
 boug'ht stacks of fireworks of every description, 
 and it surely was a fine picture to see his lawn 
 and all the wide road black with the mill folk and 
 the farm hands who had come to enjoy the free 
 show. For three hours the bengal lights illumi- 
 nated the sky, the pin-wheels whi/zed, the chasers 
 snapped, the red fire glowed, and the old man 
 lighting two Roman candles and sweeping the twin 
 besoms about his head as he twined the streams 
 of golden sparks spouting into the aii was worth 
 going to see. And when a rocket trailed its glory 
 into the upper heaven, and burst into a shower of 
 blue and crimson stars, he was greatly delighted 
 to hear the people shout. The men cheered and 
 the children crowed their joy, and the boys admired 
 the amiable theorist who never forgot his own 
 youth. When he caught theln stealing pears or 
 peaches from his orchard, he had a queer way of 
 clearing his throat, hemming and coughing to give 
 them warning; and though he could run like a quar- 
 ter horse for a short distance, he was never known 
 to overtake a lad in a race. There was always a 
 fence at need, over which the fugitive could whirl 
 and beyond which the Colonel could not venture. 
 Four times a day, when the fruit was falling in the 
 grass, the tanned vagabonds would march up the 
 walk and ask for some of the freshly-gathered har- 
 vest. Invariably a crock full of red-streaked globes 
 was set out, and they were bidden to help them- 
 
 ^si^samm'^vm'aL'WiwmBE^'Xvsrtmsa^ 
 
Ill 
 
 ■ f* 
 
 ' ^! 
 
 78 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 selves. When his sister, the housekeeper, pro- 
 r« ..?f"?" •*" '''^''' generosity, he would re- 
 tort: It takes a heap of afoles to wad a boy I 
 know, and you don't. I was a boy once myself. 
 
 ^ouut"" ^"^^^^ ""■ " ' ^"^ "y *'y 
 
 There was a tradition that a boy who had the 
 pnvjlege of pasture for one maley in hi, orchard 
 was caught up an apple-tree, filling his jacket. 
 When the soldier saw him in the branches, he 
 
 sonny?"^ ^' "^'"" "' ^°" """'"^ "^ ">'"• 
 "I am looking for my cow, sir," said the grin- 
 
 that the Colonel laughed all the way to his house. 
 He told Michael, his man, that no buttermilk 
 or skimmed milk was to be fed to the pigs, as 
 other farmers were in the habit of doing 
 
 'Tell the children at the Lower Bank to come 
 ZH^u Vu " ""'' '^''y- ^'^ " ""y P'^'^et some 
 which IS helpful at any time. Commune with na- 
 ture m SI ence till they are gone. And see that 
 Pluto IS tied. Make sure of that." 
 
 The night of his betrothal, Philip awoke about 
 one m the morning, with a sense of danger heavy 
 upon him Vague alarms sent a shudder through 
 his whole being. He arose, went to a window over- 
 looking the valley, and looked long at the coun- 
 try below. The sense of foreboding which filled 
 his soul seemed like a presentiment. 
 
 The dog, Pltto. whined and whin.oered in his 
 kennel. All the farms lay asleep. How very ,tiU 
 
Love's Young Dream 
 
 79 
 
 they were I Suddenly a pistol shot rang out, and 
 one long cry came down the valley. It was 
 the inarticulate but distant call of one in deadly 
 peril, and seemed to come from a great dis- 
 tance, with an imperative summons. Again 
 everything was silent, and, although Ellis waited 
 for another sign, none came. At length he 
 went to bed, to toss in uneasy slumber until morn- 
 ing. He dreamed he was needed by one in dire 
 distress, but knew not where to go. 
 
 He was awakened by a loud knock at his door, 
 and heard Mrs. Redmond say: "Hurry, Mr. Ellis, 
 hurry ! Something is wrong with the Colonel." 
 
 In a few moments Philip was dressed and in 
 the hall. "What is wrong?" he queried. 
 
 "We can get no response from Mr. Satterlee. 
 We have knocked and called. What can be the 
 matter?" said Mrs. Redmond, her face white and 
 her voice troubled. 
 
 Ellis tried the door, shook it, and at last threw 
 himself heavily against it. There was a crash as 
 the door burst open, and then Philip was in the 
 room, quickly followed by the housekeeper and 
 Edith. The room was empty, and the bed haJ -ot 
 been used that night. 
 
 "Did you see the Colonel enter the room last 
 evening?" asked Philip. 
 
 " "Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Redmond. "He spoke 
 to me in the hall, said good night, went into his 
 room, and I heard him lock the door." 
 
 "What time was it?" 
 
 "About eleven o'clock." 
 
 "There is foul play, I fear," said Ellis. 
 
 ';^it^'tmm^:^j:S':^'^i:i^ ' cmim.i''mmfi^:. < 'ia'.^.i:;.!'^^;. 
 
8o 
 
 A Modern Apollot 
 
 ^^Wtat .hall we do?" cried the Colonel', ,i.ter 
 ho„.^ ^"''"'''' ""'' •'''• ''''" 'oofc round he 
 £r bu° ten*;"^ night prowlers. Disturb noth! 
 nefir „ t^ """• ''" ''"^ '°' "^e nearest 
 
 br"!wast'- foM '"■"""'T' '" "' "' " bite of 
 ureaKtast, for there is work to do " 
 
 couSrrhr'''''^ '"'"'''''' ""-^ E"" 
 
 "O," she moaned, "I shall never see him aeain 
 
 -the dearest and best father that ever U^ed S 
 
 Phihp, what shall I dor "^ "vea. u 
 
 in.?' u""."?' *"'""«^'" P''"'P answered, press- 
 "f "" ''^"V" ■"'• "°°"'' '" hope die Wat 
 for evidence before believing the worst." 
 
 A careful examination showed no traces of evil 
 
 fa lai^he c'r ^1^7 '- ">"" - «PS 
 rLl .^ u- Colonel's hat was missing from the 
 rack and his coat from the hook 
 
 Day after day the search continued, but all to 
 no purpose although the whole sect on of the 
 «ty engaged m it. Colonel Satterlee was gone 
 
Chapter VI 
 
 How the Medal was Won 
 
 THE school year at R College was almost 
 finished. The annual oratorical contest would 
 round out the succession of (unctions customary 
 dsring graduation-week. Representatives from 
 the Law and Theological Departments and from 
 the College of Liberal Arts were to contend for the 
 gold medal. 
 
 The night for the contest had arrived, and peo- 
 ple were crowding into the college chapel. Car- 
 riages were coming and going, and the prominent 
 men — ^judges, doctors, and professors — with their 
 dames and damsels, were there. Across the cam- 
 pus, at one of the dormitory windows, stood Bev- 
 erly Ronan, looking out upon the people, young 
 and old, who were flocking into the hall. By his 
 side stood his chum — Emory Russell. Beverly had 
 been chosen to represent the Theological Depart- 
 ment in the contest, and his friend was somewhat 
 anxious as to the result. Noticing the tension of 
 Ronan's face, he asked, "Afraid, old boy ?" 
 
 "No," the other replied, "only a little bit nerv- 
 ous. I '11 be all right when I get at it. I think 
 best on my feet." 
 
 "Some folks seem to think best with their 
 • 8i 
 
A Modern ApoIIoi 
 
 I'^y ^c-ling up to the TooUt T' ^""'^ °' "•« 
 .•■"nor to address sucHr^'^^' '""'•" "^' '» an 
 "'vou.d,careme.Zto",W-*™'"- ' '°"'"» 
 *° !.^.- «a" timber aid K ^m i "°""' '»"' 
 I know it. Em- „ " \ " """s over." 
 
 cheerily to-«orrow ' ,^X f *'" '^'""^ "">'' 
 , "S« here, Ron/ JV^^^ "' Delhurst." 
 hand on his com- ...^nC .hfl""^' "'"PP'"^ ^i, 
 have only practiced . our fledeHnl '' '° '" y"" 
 tfy schoolhouses Y„,. '"» '"8^ P°wers in coun- 
 »*mbly drive ;ou inTo thrh ' u' """ ^'"^ "- 
 fail, will you/ '"'° "'« hrush and make you 
 
 hro^sloults, aT'turnT' f ""'^ «"^'' his 
 
 tossed back the blonde harfrom'n ""= "'""''°*' 
 'amplight fell full upon W. ,^." '°"head. The 
 
 shapely head wa "et uoon ?f' ^''^'''O"'- ^he 
 arms were overla,^ Jh ^f°'■"""ar neck. His 
 
 whole sinewy fi™,,. X" f ■ '°'^«- and his 
 ofpotentmanhoS 'hS^'' " '"' '>-° inches 
 ■h-d as a summer dawn td"?'"""""'^ -"- 
 wvere. with its massivelfr ^ '"■°"«^- ^'mo't 
 his great heart flooded h^ac" '"T- ^"' *"<=" 
 mouth grew tender the evl? T"" ""°"°"' 'he 
 and that nameless 'J^l'^" ^°'' ''■' " ^a.elle's. 
 clothed him like a ^rJ^u T^'"'""'- which 
 unchallenged leaderfh^n ' "^ ^*'"^<' f°>- him 
 lognesoffheconege"^ ""°"^ "''^ "''"^ theo- 
 "S'-ge," he said half to himself, as he 
 
How the Medal was Won 
 
 83 
 
 leaned against the window frame, "liow a fellow's 
 folks brace his heart in his trying liours! I read 
 of a noted man who wrought marvels of speech, 
 swaying multitudes, and smiting every wire of 
 that hundred-stringed harp, and who nerved him- 
 self by whispering as he rose before the peo- 
 ple, "Tis for the bairn's bread.' Of course, 
 I shall earn no bread to-night, but, as 'man 
 does not live by bread alone,' I 'II earn some 
 soul sustenance for the home folks that will 
 be sweeter than he. y out of the rock. How 
 happy Barbara will be I" And from somewhere 
 over his heart Beverly drew the picture of 
 a girl, quite young, with a pure, sweet face, 
 crowned by heaped braids of dark, glossy hair. 
 "She will be at father's to-morrow to hear the news. 
 Unless all my powers fail, she shall go home re- 
 joicing. Come, Em., there 's the bell. Let us 
 go. I am in fine fettle now." 
 
 Arm in arm the two comrades crossed the 
 campus. The serene stars crept stilly out. Luna 
 flashed her shallows of silver across the world, 
 and the crisped cloud waves curled in filigree rip- 
 ples around the shadows that lay like islands in 
 the reaches of the light. Above the hum of con- 
 versation from the windows of the lighted chapel 
 came the lilt of the orchestra. 
 
 At the rear door of the hall the comrades 
 parted. "Courage, Ronan," said Emory. "I know 
 you will win. We are all sure of that." 
 
 And so heartening his friend, Emory went to 
 take his place in the audience. Beverly entered 
 in time to step to the platform with the other two 
 
*♦ A Modern Apolloi 
 
How the Medal wu Won 
 
 8S 
 
 which greeted him ai he came forward. Slowly 
 he began, and, warming with hit theme, hii un- 
 deniable power became manifeit. Step by step 
 he climbed the terraces of his stately argument, 
 bearing the audience aloft with him, higher, higher, 
 tin on the topmost height, with fine effect, he flung 
 the banner of liberty to the wind, and shook it 
 grandly in the thunderburst of applause that 
 drowned the climax of his speech. 
 
 The patriotic heart leaped with joy, and the 
 pages were loaded with flowery tokens of gratu- 
 lation, while the theologues eyed each other dubi- 
 ously, and bent their eyes upon Ronan. 
 
 The second orator, Preston Morgan, from the 
 College of Liberal Arts, was so courteously refined 
 that every student loved him. As Ronan watched 
 him rise to deliver his oration upon "The Masque 
 of Comus," he envied the superb poise and fine 
 dignity of his rival. No gentleman, alone on his 
 lawn among his tulip-trees, could have' paced for- 
 ward more calmly than he. His topic gave no 
 opportunity for impassioned utterance, but his 
 polished shafts of speech, drawn from a well- 
 stocked mental quiver, went singing through the 
 hush that brooded over the house. And when 
 he ceased, every generous heart went out in the 
 prophecy, "He will be a man of might and honor." 
 
 When the third speaker's theme had been duly 
 announced, Ronan walked forward, somewhat con- 
 fused. For a moment the audience seemed blurred, 
 and his voice was husky as he stumbled into the 
 portal of his argument. 
 
 Down to zero dropped the hopes of the theo- 
 
MKiocorr HsowrnN test CH*n 
 
 (ANSI and rSO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 133 
 
 2.2 
 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 ^I^IU& 
 
 /1PPLIED IM43E Ini 
 
 ^g*- 1653 Eoit Main Strmt 
 
 ^g (716) 462 - 0300 - Phoni 
 5S (716) 2W - 59B9 - Fair 
 
:i:i * 
 
 
 86 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 look at the.r representative. Emory Russell list- 
 ened to h nj with set lips, and watched him make 
 h,s way faltermgly to the edge of his migh^ 
 
 to the brmk . f ,. gi£;nntic ledge. 
 
 in f^'^w'^y 'r*"/" '"'" " "''^"ee in the orator, as 
 m the b.rd cf Jove, when it shakes its pinions, 
 and, nth., scream, swims out across the abyss. 
 Beneath the bird the gulches roa, with the tor- 
 rent above, the lowering sky leans upon the 
 peaks, and sp.lls the blazing ore of its lightning 
 m blmdrng cascades down the rocks, the echoe! 
 of the sullen thunder huddling, frightened, among 
 the crags. Up, up, on broad vans he sails, above 
 the clouds mto the open heavens, round and round 
 .n gyres of lazuhte, while every eye marks his royal 
 flight. So It IS with Ronan. He is erect now, with 
 face glowmg, heart throbbing, and soul aflame, 
 and his strong, honest personality charms the 
 aud ence. Womet. lean toward him, men submit 
 to the spell, professors bend to catch the hot 
 
 7Zi" « """^ '" ''°''"'"' P^"°^' °f perfect 
 rhythm. He seemed to imagine himself keeping 
 tune to the rmging rhyme of his father's hammer 
 ch.m.ng among the hills, and so he drives on 
 i-ausing m perfect mastery, he looks the audience 
 m the eye and then, quivering with conscious 
 power, he throws the riata of unsurpassable pathos 
 m gleammg curves over every sou!, and with one 
 resistless effort lifts the whole vast assembly to the 
 level of his last sublime appeal. He is done The 
 wreath is surely his. One moment of hushed re- " 
 
How the Medal was Won 
 
 87 
 
 taxation of the tensed mind, and then the wave 
 of applause swept him to his seat. Unquestion- 
 ably he was victor. 
 
 The three grave judges retired to write their 
 verdict. The first two contestants sat hedged with 
 blossoms, while Beverly had none, for he was 
 never seen in society, had no friends present out- 
 side the squad of black-coated divinity students, 
 and they had not thought of flowers ; but he waited 
 eagerly, with eyes fixed on the floor. 
 
 In a short time the judges re-entered the room, 
 and handed their report to the Chancellor, who 
 rose to read it. Every auditor strained forward, 
 the black-garbed scholars swaying together like 
 crows in a wind-blown pine. Slowly the Chan- 
 cellor said: 
 
 "I have the honor to announce that the prize 
 has been won by Mr. Beverly Ronan." 
 
 Hurrah I Nothing could be heard for the 
 mighty cheer that shook the rafters. And every 
 eye was fixed upon Beverly, who dared not look 
 up as he took the prize, and in a low tone spoke 
 his gratitude. The contest of the year was over, 
 and the people; streamed out into the iridescent 
 night. 
 
 The two theologues, arm-in-arm, sought the 
 telegraph office. As they walked, Beverly said: 
 
 "Em., now that it is all over, and I have won, I 
 can't help being glad ; and yet I feel that Pres. really 
 did the best work to-night. Did your ever see 
 such precision and elegance; such inevitableness 
 of speech. He is a hero, surely 1 I feel that I 
 ought to give him the prize." 
 
A Modern Apollos 
 
 thus: '^"'" '° ■"' °'<' '"'her, running 
 
 BarW-''°'"'''*°"- W""«= home soon. Tell 
 
 thr. T""'"^ "* ''"'y '^ho had listened to the 
 three orations, wrote to her father ^n T„ u 
 city, savino-- "T i,, '"^r latner ,n an Eastern 
 
 heard his equal H, ^ . "'• ^ ''^'^^ '"=^«'- 
 Bv7l!, • • " * '"°''«''" Apollos." 
 ay the river, in the wooded part of Sn„tl„r„ 
 
 Illinois on the edge of Delhur's t vil agrtn ™ 
 
 tabTel^ol""?"'""' '=°"''^«= -■"' widT'ho^i! 
 table doors and airy rooms, a woman w;s busy 
 
 for the? ' '"°""=' '°"" best-making S 
 for the homecoming of her son. ^ 
 
 I he old locust-tree down by the' eate h^M 
 sky ZT\r '""''' °' P°'-hed'silver fp o thf 
 fuL u "^"^ ™"'* ''"^^d » shower of per! 
 
 fume on the sward. Sunshine was spilled cfear 
 across the well-scoured floor. The ru fin Af th 
 breeze „ the boughs seemed to her to whtfer "He 
 IS coming, coming." The windlass of the coo! 
 old we 1 creaked, "Coming, coming." Pink-footed 
 .ng""'':S7 '''"°"^"^''' --"6. ^'Coming, t^' 
 afd "Co '""""^ °' "'^ ^""' ''^^^^ the way 
 
 sa.d Coming coming home;" while brown beeT 
 wading waist-deep in the pollened hollyhocks that' 
 
How the Medal was Won 89 
 
 swept the window-sill, droused back the .velcome 
 tidings, "Coming, coming home." 
 
 With deft touches his room — the little bed- 
 room near the garden — was set in order. The 
 vine he had loved peeped in through the casement, 
 the fleckless curtains flung cool shadows on the 
 carpet, and his favorite books lay on the table, 
 with his flute beside them. His pictures looked 
 down from the walls, his fishing-rod and gun stood 
 in a corner, his chair waited for him, and on the 
 mantle his little clock eagerly ticked off the min- 
 utes until the stage should come. 
 
 With happy face the mother surveyed the room, 
 and said to herself: "Everything is fixed now just 
 as he used to like it. How flurried I am ! Two 
 years is a long time for us to be parted, and even 
 now he '11 only be with us a little while, and then 
 the Conference will send him to his work. I 
 wonder if he 's changed — grown taller. Come in 
 Dash, old fellow," she said, turning toward the 
 door, where the old dog stood wagging his tail. 
 "Come in ; lie there on the rug. It is only an hour 
 now." And then to herself again: "Even the dog 
 knows he 's coming. How good God is, after all I" 
 
 The strong religious nature of Mary Ronan 
 overcame her as she stood there in the empty 
 icom, which had been, since he went away, her 
 holy t>f holies The fervent faith of generations 
 of pious ancestry leaped in her soul ; the blood of 
 heroes martyred for the truth was in her; the 
 same stream that reddened the heather of the 
 Scottish hills surged through her heart. In this 
 very room, twenty years ago, she had kneeled by 
 
90 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 i 
 i I 
 
 it: i! 
 
 a cradle s side, and had dedicated her dimpled boy 
 to God. She' had taught him and trained him (or 
 this and now her chief desire had been fulfilled 
 
 Overcome with joy, she knelt by the white bed, 
 and sokly she prayed: "O God, he is thine, wholly 
 thine Dearer than the gold of all the earth to 
 >ne, he is thine. From birth-hour to this day I 
 have brought him, to offer him to thee Take 
 him use h.m, chasten him, and stren^hen him. 
 J. ask for him no success but to please thee; no 
 honor but to serve thee; no reward but to hear 
 thee say. Well done. If I am too happy. Lord, 
 forpve. Thou art the Son of man-a human 
 mother bent over thee in love and pride, and 
 watched thee gird thyself for thy work, as I have 
 watched him. Take him, my offering to thee, for 
 love s sake and for thy name's sake. Amen " 
 
 The sound of galloping hoofs drew her to the 
 window, and a smile crossed her face as she said: 
 Here comes Barbara Lawson. Her horse needs 
 shoeing, I reckon. The schemer 1 She knows that 
 Beverly ,s coming to-day-could n't wait till the 
 boy gets here." 
 
 Barbara Lawson was a skillful rider, and the 
 group of mes in the smithy door looked at her 
 admiringly as she called, laughingly, to the black- 
 smith to help her down. Luke Ronan, who was 
 standing in the doorway, shading his eyes with 
 his gnmy hand, hurried out, greeting her in his 
 hearty fashion. "Good-morning, Miss Barbara. 
 All well at nome ? What can I do for you to-day '" 
 For answer, .he held out her hand, and leaped 
 as lightly as a thistle-blow to the earth; and then 
 
How the Medal was Won 91 
 
 gathering up her riding-skirt in one hand, she 
 touched the foreleg of the sorrel with her whip, 
 and said : "Goldie has lost a shoe, Mr. Ronan. You 
 may set another ; but there is no need to hurry, as 
 I am going to talk with your wife for awhile." 
 
 Across the road the blacksmith's wife was wait- 
 ing to open the gate. Barbara patted her horse's 
 nose lovingly, and then joined Mrs. Ronan; and 
 together they walked along the path toward the 
 house. On one side of the path, on a shell-rimmed 
 mound, was an old dial that the smith had shaped 
 on his anvil. Both of the women glanced at it, 
 and then smiled, as the mother said, "Only sixty 
 minutes more, and then he will be here." 
 
 As they passed a bed of pansies, the mother 
 stopped, saying: "Pluck some of these pansies, 
 Barbara, for your throat. He likes them, you re- 
 member." 
 
 When a handful had been gathered, the mother 
 continued, "Come and see his room, all tidied, 
 and just as he used to like it." And the two 
 women passed into the cottage. 
 
 An hour later, the blare of a horn, blown far 
 away, floated across the wheat-fields. Winding 
 down the hill came the daily coach. On the 
 driver's seat, lines in hand, flicking the leaders 
 with a sinuous lash, that crackled and hissed above 
 their tossing heads, urging them to a swift lope, 
 sat Beverly Ronan. He called, in friendly style, 
 to the farmers in the fields, and bade Mart, the 
 old Jehu, blow the' horn till the echoes filled all 
 the glens of the far-oflf bluffs. 
 
 Willingly the team stopped, panting and tired. 
 
92 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 in front of the smithy, and Beverly, leaping to the 
 ground, ran first to where his mother stood, say- 
 ing, in homely farm-speech, "Mammy, I 'm glad 
 to see your dear face again." The faded woman 
 clung to the strong neck of her son, only able to 
 say, "Beverly, my boy I my boy 1" 
 
 Her very heart seemed to dissolve in tears. 
 "Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speak- 
 eth ;" but the overfull heart is silent. 
 
 The men who had gathered at the shop to greet 
 the homecomer wiped suspicious moisture from 
 their lashes, and eiven gruff Ben Leech, afterward, 
 said that he felt a lump like a muskmelon rise in 
 his throat, and he just had to wipe his leaky eyes. 
 The father came forward slowly but proudly, 
 with a hearty word : "Welcome home, my lad ! All 
 the men are glad to see you. Shake hands all 
 around." 
 
 When the men had been spoken to, Beverly 
 walked across the road, for Barbara was waiting 
 just inside the gate. He could not help noticing 
 how rarely beautiful she was, and how well the 
 riding-habit suited her. The wind was blcvving 
 ht • dark curls from beneath the little blue cap, in 
 spite of her efforts to control them, and the same 
 wind, or something else, had brought a glowing 
 color to her cheeks. The long lashes swept her 
 cheeks as Beverly walked toward her, but when 
 he was near they were lifted, and her brown eyes, 
 with more than laughter in their depths, looked' 
 into his. One white hand was eagerly outheld 
 toward him, while the other clasped the folds of 
 her long riding-habit. 
 
How the Medal was Won 
 
 93 
 
 "Welcome, Beverly ; welcome, Rev. Mr. Ronan, 
 A. M.,|' she cried, laughingly. "Welcome home 
 again I" she repeated, radiant with joy. 
 
 "Thank you, Barbara," said he, taking her 
 hand in both of his. "You are very good to come 
 to-day. Just like you, though," and the old smile 
 came into his face. "All this kindness quite over- 
 whelms me," he continued, as his mother came 
 near enough for him to put his arm around her 
 waist. 
 
 When the three had reached the porch, Beverly 
 said, "Mother, sit down, and let me feast my eyes 
 on you." 
 
 "O no, not now," she answered, "it is almost 
 dinner-time, and I must get an old-fashioned meal 
 for you, I know. Talk to Barbara while I work a 
 little." 
 
 When the young people sat for a few moments 
 on the old clematis-coveted portico, talking in low 
 tones, Beverly drew from his pocket a pliish-lined 
 case, and laid it on her lap. As her slender fingers 
 opened it, he said, quite boyishly, "I won the prize, 
 Barbara; look at it." 
 
 She looked long at the medal, with its shining 
 disk glinting in the sunlight, carefully reading the 
 inscription upon it, and seemingly unaware that 
 Beverly was watching th- play of the sunshine as 
 it filtered through the leaves and hid in the meshes 
 of her hair. 
 
 "'T was bravely won, Beverly," she said at last. 
 "We all rejoiced." 
 
 "I knew you would," he replied. "You helped 
 me to win, and you must rejoice with me." 
 
94 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 oraver. fAr "'• ''^ ^°'" »°°'' '«""'. your 
 
 qX, By ^hrV"'"''";"' »"" "" y°- "- 
 
 to brila f.,^ i '*'" '■''P*''' ""d I --esolved 
 
 You helped me win this; we share it ogetheT'' 
 Let us go and show it to father." °K«ner. 
 
 te J »? ""^^f^ ''°''" """" ""= ~a<i. and en- 
 
 « h. . , ^J "^ '^*"'" * "y* '<'"<i"ed with pride 
 a he looked at the medal, and he handed it to he 
 other men w..h a smile on his sweaty face The 
 Lttle plush case had gone the round, and Barbara 
 was agam holding it in her hand, when a vehic e 
 stopped at the door. She glanced out, and for a 
 moment her face clouded Is she recognized the 
 occupant of the buggy. It was Dr. Kll a 
 
 early Jife ,n Delhurst, but had won riches in the 
 oZtr'"- "" "'Srh-spirited horse usuat 
 
 harness 1^ ^""''' ""''" '"= -«"-fi"'ng 
 
 th. ntV • "' '"" ^""^'hing forbidding about 
 
 n omfine'." h-r".? '"?• ''' " ^'^ almosf class^ 
 n outhne; wh.le h,s sleek manners and purring 
 tones^were vastly impressive to the casual Tb^ 
 
 He had stopped to get a bolt to replace a 
 
 broken one m the axle rf his carriage. One had 
 
 o be made, and Luke soon cut and heated the 
 
 jro^^^jle^theW waited, and looked :^„:;:! 
 
How the Medal wai Woi 95 
 
 hi. J*""? *'" ''!«'"'""•> '•'"M the bo- ,c saw a 
 black ant creeping up the block with a tiny white 
 
 «.e spot where the heavy hammer was falling. 
 For a moment the creature was under the stroke 
 of doom. Luke-, brows rdaxed as he saw it 
 
 h.n,. TT ul"^' '"'"'' '" "''<''''^' ""d 'he grimy 
 hand of the blacksmith brushed the ant ^tly 
 .s.de the kindly mood glorifying his home.y f"^ 
 
 and /' f fA"" ""^ °' <""8"- The doctor 
 and Beverly had both seen this little by-play, and 
 the latter said. "Few would stop a hut^ied f^b to 
 save so small a life." 
 
 be 2,17" l'^^""^ ^i' '""'*'• "5"' ''" h"" ™«« 
 thing" " """"^'^ '''" *•■* ■'«'?'«'' 
 
 ^^^^"What would be the difference r asked Dey- 
 
 "Only this " answered the smith, rating on 
 «mm.d"i" ^"'"':,'^''ile bead, of perspirftion 
 gemned h.s brow, "a man is sometime, allowed 
 to hold m hi, hand the fate of weaker thing,, a, 
 Jehovah hold, ours. My hammer, like fate, hing 
 above that ant. As I need mercy, I will be merci 
 lul. I find considerable pleasure in that kind of 
 thing, and never lose a chance to practice it I 
 assure you." 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, "that scnnds Churchly 
 quite sermonic; but it won't wo,„ in practical 
 everyday affairs. It is mere sentiment-mrn- 
 shine and mush I see your son come, honestly 
 by his predilection for the pulpit. However, you 
 are a sort of prophet yourself, wearing a leathern 
 
9* A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 apron instead of a goatskin mantle, an.l eat!„« 
 hog and hominy in place of locusts and wild honey 
 Freachmg, to your tribe, comes as easy as yodel- 
 mg to a bobolink; and what's bred in the bone 
 IS sure to come out in the fjesh. I would not pause 
 for such a purpose," he continued, with a subdued 
 «wagger; "I would strike swift and sure I'd 
 •pare no creature that hindered my work. I be- 
 lieve in crushing everything that crosses my plans, 
 tiuch a spirit wins in this world." 
 
 ''Neither in this world nor another can it win 
 sir, replied Luke, "and the man who is not merci- 
 ful shall cry for it in vain. 'The measure you 
 metef shall be measured to you.' That 's from the 
 Bible, and maybe new to you. It is a deep Uw 
 of hfe, all the same." 
 
 "Pshaw I Parsons talkl" exclaimed Deynell 
 I seek no mercy, ask no favors, care for no 
 fnends I drive straight on, and I '11 compass my 
 end and clear my path, come what may. Such 
 palaver may do for a crossroads hamlet, but not 
 for city life. For men of afifairs, it is nonsense. 
 I ain a man grown, and have put away such in- 
 fantile prate. Look out for Number One; feather 
 your own nest; keep out of the ruck, and let Old 
 Sooty take the hindmost." 
 
 The bolt was finished, and as the doctor 
 turned to follow the smith out of the shop, he 
 looked jealouslv toward Beverly, who was talk- 
 ing in a suppressed tone to Barbara. A lieht 
 smile was playing over his upturned face, and 
 brightemng all the grimy room. With a scowl 
 
How the Medal wai Won 97 
 
 Deynelt atepped out into the »unfhine, and in a 
 few minutes he was whirled away in the cloud of 
 dust that always attended his journeys about the 
 village, which he revisited once a year, much to 
 the wonder of the natives, who never ceased to 
 discuss his good luck. 
 
 The next evening, Beverly toolc tea at Bar- 
 bara's home, and the long summer evening was 
 spent in making plans for their future. They were 
 now betrothed, and eager to assume life's respon- 
 sibilities. Out under the stars they sat, and Ronan 
 pictured their little parsonage as it was to be, with 
 books and flowers and domestic joys— the home 
 where all the sanctities of the fireside would sur- 
 round them, and where many would find a place 
 of help and comfort. Sometimes she read to him 
 from a book called "The Diary of a Minister's 
 Wife," and he, listening, cast a horoscope of happy 
 auguries. 
 
 They saw each other every day for a fortnight, 
 and no summer day was long enough for them. 
 What, with stories of his sad incarceration and his 
 college honors and glimpses into their wedded 
 state, not far distant, the time sped all too swiftly. 
 Every day stepped on a turf enameled with flowers, 
 which sprinkled their dew on its feet as it s, ed 
 along. 
 
 On the last evening before Beverly's departure 
 for Conference they were walking along the 
 meandering road not far from Barbara's home. 
 "The highway was deserted, and white in the moon- 
 light. The long, black shadows of the two fig- 
 7 
 
98 
 
 A Modern ApoIIot 
 
 ures fell behind them, and alt the world stretched 
 brightly before. Beverly pressed the little hand on 
 his arm, and held it a prisoner in his strong fingers, 
 as he asked, "Do you ever wonder who hated me 
 enough to bribe poor Mooney to plot my ruin?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "I think it was Dr. Deynell 
 Smce I nursed mother at his hospital, three years 
 ago, he has vexed me with his attentions. He 
 has even gone so far as to write to me, and in 
 one of his letters he said I would never be your 
 bnde. Of course', I have never answered his let- 
 ters, or paid any attention to them. He is odious 
 to me. And, after all, there is but one man for 
 me in the whole world." 
 
 "Well," returned Beverly, "I think his knavery 
 will recoil on his own head. At any rate, you are 
 mine, darling; and soon we will be wedded, and 
 can laugh at his discomfiture." 
 
 "But he is a proud man, Beverly," and the 
 brown eyes became troubled for a moment. "When 
 scorned, his so-called love will turn to hatred He 
 IS vindictive as well. Who knows what sinful 
 machinations may enter his envious mind. His 
 success has fired his passions." 
 
 ^'Perhaps so; but they will consume him, until 
 he IS humbled. His ability has made him drunk 
 with egotism. He needs to be brought low, and 
 If he can endure sorrow when it overtakes him 
 he may yet be a useful man. He must be remark- 
 able m organizing ability. Five years ago he left 
 this town with nothing but a college sheepskin 
 and a consuming desire for lucre. Now he is head 
 
How the Medal 
 
 was 
 
 Won 
 
 99 
 
 of a company ramified over several States, and 
 with branches in six cities." 
 
 "Yes; it is astonishing to the people here," 
 said Barbara. 
 
 "So it is. The old-timers call it fortune, and 
 say that circumstances have favored him. They 
 used to despise his boastful prophecies of his 
 future, and dubbed him 'Windy Deynell.' Well, 
 he knows how to raise the wind, financially as well 
 as orally. I really doubt, however, if he can per- 
 manently push on. This world is built decently, 
 and its laws are against rascality. When a man 
 tries to manage a crooked business, he usually gets 
 it too crooked, like the hunter who bent his gun 
 in order to shoot around a haystack — the bullet 
 went clear around, and hit him in the back." 
 
 "Let 's not talk about him any more," said 
 Barbara. "His path has diverged from ours for- 
 ever. May they never cross again !" 
 
 After a little silence, Ronan spoke again: 
 
 "How much I owe you for all my success! 
 Do you remember that winter night when you 
 came to the rear of the churchroom, close by the 
 door, and asked me to go to the altar? What a 
 change came into my life from that hour 1" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "and I have my reward for 
 my faith and prayers. You are all mine now." 
 
 "Did you foresee it at the time?" he asked. 
 
 "O no ; I was only seeking your soul's welfare. 
 I thought I might influence you, as I had done 
 others, to begin a nobler life." 
 
 "All that I love to think of in the past or 
 
loo A Modern Apollog 
 
 dream oMn the future gathers about you," he 
 
 at a I ^^^/ w '°''"«'y ^' '■'^ "^ the/stopped 
 at a httle gate m front of the Uwson cottage 
 
 face u°„"T'T ,.■'"' <=°"."'""'''' lifting her smiling 
 face up toward his, until the moonlight fell full 
 upon .t. "to-morrow I go to Conferfnce to get 
 my appomtment-our appointment. Only a little 
 while to wait, dearest." 
 
 .rJ"' ^T""^"' '^^ w^s c'asped closely in his 
 arms, and then she hastened up the path to the 
 house; but not before she had heard his "Good! 
 night, bonme sweetheart, good-night 1" 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Beverly at the Conference 
 
 As an applicant for admission on trial, and a 
 ^ student cf this Occidental School of the 
 prophets, young Ronan soon discovered that the 
 annual assembly cf the people called Methodists 
 was a picturesque and pathetic convocation. The 
 foregathering of the fire-carriers, the homeless 
 heralds of the Cross, who had overrun a continent 
 with the gospel message, thrilled him. Six such 
 interesting days he had seldom known as those 
 spent among the seasoned, spiritual warriors, who 
 had left plow and ax, cobbler's bench and broad- 
 horn's oar, to better mankind ; whose high praise 
 was that "the common people heard tliciu gladly." 
 Old and youthful, wise and simple, ambitious 
 and humble, had come up for the yearly reunion ; 
 some glowing with success, some humiliated by 
 failure — ^but all fraternal, unselfish, and hopeful, 
 despite their scanty allowances and strenuous 
 labors. There was a strong comrader/ in their 
 ranks, and genuine fellowship knitted all the mem- 
 bers of the itinerant clan together. Bound in a 
 simple but compact unity, they were willing to 
 go anywhere or suffer anything for the good of 
 the cause. 
 
loa 
 
 A Modern ApoIIos 
 
 »r,^'v, f "" ^"i "pressed it, "a Methodist 
 th?nf,r ?." '"'"'^„''"y«'ing one year, and any- 
 thing else the next." ' 
 
 they well knew the deep joy of self-sacrifice, and 
 they loved to make the woods ring at their camp- 
 meetmgs, held m nver bush or prairie grove, with 
 the pilgrim lyric : 
 
 "No foot of Imnd do I posMii, 
 No collage in the wUdemeH." 
 
 Never waiting for a society made ready for 
 their ministry, the circuit-rider follows the lone 
 wagon of the emigrant, and binds the frontier 
 homes with cords of love to the living Church 
 No mimng camp is too remote, no ranch too lonely' 
 no slum too malodorous for him. He is a fore- 
 runner of the King, feeling that heaven smiles on 
 his mission; and, whether speeding like a racer 
 with loms girt, or leaning on his patriarchial staff 
 he fares ever forward, looking for a city not built 
 with hands. 
 
 How exuberant the tender greeting at the seat 
 of Conference, when one pastor meets another 
 who IS serving in the charge where he was sta- 
 tioned several years before! All th€ saints must 
 be asked about. What hearty handshaking and 
 scanning of faces and looking into each other's 
 eyes. Few are the bonds so silk-soft and steel- 
 strong as those that bind together this corps of 
 aggressive, dauntless pathfinders of the Master 
 One by one the fathers come down to the sunset 
 shor. of life, and signal the outbound ship; but 
 
Beverly at the Conference 103 
 
 the younger men take up their Bibles and saddle- 
 bags and go on. 
 
 The session invariably opens with the heart- 
 moving song o{ the dispersed : 
 
 '■And •» we yet alive. 
 
 And ICC each other's &ce?" 
 
 It recalls those who are not present, who met 
 with them in years past — veterans buried where 
 they fell, and children sleeping in many a church- 
 yard, waiting in graves loaned by sympathetic 
 members, until the great home gathering on the 
 last day, when the earth and the sea shall give up 
 their dead. 
 
 After the first hymn, the Bishop leads in a 
 prayer, that grips the altar and lifts the synod to 
 the mountain top. The sacrament is taken in 
 silence. The '^nsiness begins with the question 
 after each name as the roll is called, "Is there 
 anything against him?" 
 
 Once in twelve months each man's richest 
 asset, his character, is closely scrutinized; and, 
 if all is well, the inspection is finished with the 
 answer, "Nothing against him." 
 
 V .len the collections for missions and benev- 
 olences are reported, the presiding elders often 
 have young preachers come to them with the re- 
 quest, "Can you lend me ten dollars for six 
 months?" 
 
 And the elder asks, "What do you want it for ?" 
 
 "My missionary collection is not large; I want ' 
 to increase it." 
 
 "Why did n't you collect it on your circuit ?" 
 
Ill 
 
 w>4 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 T. ."\^^}"'^ "" I "^ould. My people are poor. 
 It IS hard sledding for all of them." 
 
 'Is your salary all paid?" 
 
 "No; but it is promised, before snow flies, if 
 I return to the work." 
 
 "Have you no money?" 
 
 "No; I put in what I had saved for a new suit 
 of clothes." 
 
 "How will you get books for your next year's 
 studies ? 
 
 "The Book Concern will trust me; I am square 
 on Its ledger." ^ 
 
 "How will you get homi 7" 
 
 'ui}^7^ * '■^'"'■" "'=•'''■ ' "^''e sure of that." 
 Well, you are the fourth man who has asked 
 me for a loan to-day. My wallet is almost empty 
 Here is the money." 
 
 The young man adds it to his hoard, and when 
 Be hears his name, answers proudly, "Forty dollars 
 from Beanblossom for missions, and one hundred 
 and twenty-seven converts enrolled." The clerk 
 writes it down, but no notice u taken by others 
 
 When Dr. Hiroof calls, "Sixteen hundred dol- 
 lars for missions," a ripple of wonder breaks across 
 the room, and some murmur, "That's remarkably 
 fine; but wise folks know that one of Hiroof's 
 rich members gave him one thousand dollars and 
 that ths balance came easily, on a simple pulpit 
 announcement of the need, for his flock had fat 
 pastures, and waded brisket-deep in lush clover 
 all the year. 
 
 A wrinkled hero, who has filled every appoint- 
 ment on Tailholt Circuit during the past year, some 
 
Beverly at the Conference 105 
 
 of ;hem in the saddle, some on snowshoes, often 
 breaking the ice on the wash-basin in the spare 
 room with his boot heel, and has added a new 
 class at Barren schoolhouse, stands up in faded 
 jeans, and in a husky tone asks to be superannu- 
 ated. 
 
 Brother Coleman, the only classical graduate 
 in the "Sanhedrin of the Saddle-bags," says it re- 
 minds him of Marias in the Forum, unlacing the 
 breast of his tunic to show the younger men his 
 battle-scars, so proudly yet modestly is it accom- 
 plished. 
 
 "My work is done. Bishop," he says. "I can 
 carry the load no longer. I want to be laid on 
 the shelf permanently [this word chokes him]. 
 My health is shattered, and my voice is all gone, 
 but I make no complaint. I have had forty-seven 
 years of the pastorate, among good people. God 
 bless 'em I Let me step down. I am nearing home, 
 and over the remainder of the road I '11 make a 
 quitk run. If I reach there before you, I will be 
 at the gate to meet you with a welcome hand." 
 
 His eyes, that time could not film, grow wet, 
 handkerchiefs hide the faces of those about him, 
 and down the Bishop's cheeks tears roll copiously. 
 One of the elders, with a melody like the silver 
 trumpets of the Levites, uplifts the hymn,— 
 
 " Blest be the tie that binds 
 
 Our hearts in Christian love." 
 
 And a tidal wave of rich emotion sweeps over all, 
 washing away the dust of the march. 
 
 The connectional secretaries pitch the ttme 
 
«o6 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 for the whole coming year in warm speeches sa^- 
 
 er.^^i,tr;;'h^.^^---r;; 
 
 per. and bean, he ^.l' .reMat^'c""! 
 
 sa.d :■/ „T "h """"""' '" '"' "»'='= y""- h" 
 
 said, Are these dogs yours, ma'am ?" 
 
 h,;I^°'' ^u ',■" housewife, beaming; "they 
 hamt mme; but I think all the hungry critters in 
 the county come here for a i.neal." 
 
 ethi^l*"'" ''"°"' ''"; "'' "" hospitable code of 
 etnics down our way." 
 
 «„J Kv*"' °' '1""" '"°"""=^ "'«" Wi*'. on occa- 
 sion. b.t.ng as vitriol. Two lawyers riding along, 
 overtook one named Jess: Ue, and thought to 
 
 of th, "V""'. *''''™''- ^"'"8 «'h«=r side 
 of the preacher m the road, one said, "Parson 
 IS your education wide and deep?" 
 
 «ia Jo'/'.^rr""' '''f «°'P^"^'- '" the lan- 
 guage of Shakespeare, "it is not so wide as a 
 church-door, nor deep as a well; but it will serve." 
 
 other raw^er.'""' '^°""' ^"«"*^" '''''^' '"' 
 "I try to," replied the dominie; "but I do not 
 stop to correct little errors which do not change 
 tl 3 sense of what I say. For instance: I was 
 preaching at old Zion Church last Sunday, and 
 meant to say, 'The devil is a liar;' and I said. The 
 dev, IS a lawyer.' I didn't rectify it, as it is prac- 
 tically the same thing." ^ 
 
Beverly at the Conference 107 
 
 When this percolated through the craniums of 
 the attorneys, one said to the other. "This fellow 
 II either a knave or a tool." 
 
 The reverend looked out the heel of his eye 
 and said quietly, "No; but I'm between the 
 two; and at the crossroads they lett hir.i to his 
 solitary journey. 
 
 Beverly smiled at the recital of a brother who 
 was sent to a place called Ellbridge. Nearine it 
 he met an Englishman, and asked him how far 
 It was to Ellbridge. 
 
 "Hellbridge," said the cockney, "is six miles 
 from ere. Ye can see the smoke from the next 
 
 R„vV°"u'''r I"'' *''* """"wf"' parson, "that the 
 Bntuher had the name right, but the bridge was 
 
 A mossback fears that the women are getting 
 too much power, and says, "They will be preach- 
 ing, first thing you know." 
 
 "Let 'em preach I" shouts a stalwart elder "If 
 a woman can preach as well as I can, she has as 
 good nght as I have; if she can preach better 
 she has a better right; if she can preach worse 
 than I can. may the good Lord deliver us from 
 hearing her!" 
 
 It is told that Charles Wesley threatened to 
 leave a Conference, where John was presiding if 
 a certain wordmonger was not rapped down from 
 h.s rainbow flights. Turning to one near by, the 
 ■mperturbable John said, "Hand Charles his hat " 
 Jivery bishop remembers this, and deals gently 
 with the loquacious gentry. 
 
io8 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 Ronan, sitting in the gallery, felt that a voluble 
 brother wai waiting time in endlesa talk. A door 
 ii open on the oppoiite aide of the room, and the 
 Biihop sayi, calmly: "Close it, please. I can't 
 stand wind blowing on me from both sides at 
 once." 
 
 Ronan wonders how the portly Bishop, with 
 his classic face and silver hair, won his great fame. 
 He seems slow, but his eyes note every move- 
 ment. He is an overseer, but not an overlooker. 
 One of the presiding elders has held his oflSce 
 for twelve years, and a determined minority is 
 resolved to send him to the pastorate. The man 
 is an autocrat, and has ruled the Conference by 
 great native talent, aided by a simple expedient. 
 When the class of probationers comes into the 
 Conference, he listens to the examiner's reports, 
 and writes each notable one in his little brown 
 book. Then he scans the features as the selected 
 men come forward, and, putting the record and 
 face together, casts the candidate's horoscope. 
 At some time during the week he seeks the prom- 
 ising neophyte, and, in his mellow, fraternal way, 
 encourages him, gives a word of advice, and bids 
 him count the elder as his friend. It is all fair and 
 sincere, and wins the friendless clerical stripling to 
 his side as long as he remains in the Conference. 
 Now the battle is drawn, and the old warhorse 
 knows that his clan will gird him at his bugle-call. 
 The Conference desires the Bishop to bear the 
 brunt of reducing Saul to the ranks. The Bishop 
 refuses, and throws it back on the Conference. 
 It requests him again, by vote, to let no man 
 
Beverly at the Conference 109 
 
 hold the office more than four yean. The aged 
 chairman lees that the great body it ihirking, and 
 forcing him into the breach. A change con' -i 
 over him. He rises, towering above the oth ri 
 like a redwood in a thicket. 
 
 "Brethren I" he cries in his sonorous voice, 
 (ull-swelling, like a harmony of horns, "You shall 
 not make me do this thing. If it is done, you 
 must do it." And for ten minutes he pours out 
 billowy sentences of Ciceronian expostulation and 
 exhortation, flowing limpid to the last word, and 
 takes his seat in a hush so intense the clock is 
 heard upon the wall. They are conquered, and 
 meekly take up their duty, unceremoniously drop- 
 ping the unchallenged official into a college 
 agency, which he prefers to a regular pulpit. 
 
 On the last day of the assembly, Beverly re- 
 ceived a note, calling him to the house where the 
 Bishop and Cabinet held forth. 
 
 As the fatherly sage looked at the theologue 
 closely, he was thinking— there is no mud at the 
 bottom of his eyes — and he asked, "Your name 
 is Beverly Ronan?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I have here a letter, asking that you be sent 
 to a Church in a far Eastern city," said the Bishop. 
 "Art you willing to go ?" 
 
 "Anywhere, sir," returned Beverly. 
 
 "Well, I can not transfer you, as you are not 
 a member here ; but I can leave you without work, 
 and commend you to them." 
 
 "Yes, sir; I will thank you to do so, if it seems 
 beat" 
 
no 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 "Their Conference it in lewion now at E 
 
 You might itep down to the telegraph-office and 
 
 wire Biihop M , atlcing if I shall tend you 
 
 there." 
 
 "I would rather not do thi», sir." 
 
 "Why not?" aiked tiie Biihop, in aurpriie. 
 
 "Became," replied Beverly, "I feel that I am 
 a man under ordert. I go and come under author- 
 ity ; I am led. I prefer to have no part whatever 
 in my appointment. I stand ready for anything, 
 like the ox, between the plow and the altar. I 
 am anxious to be a man sent, and to have no part 
 in selecting my work." 
 
 "Very well," said the Bishop, "some one else 
 will attend to it, and we will inform you later as 
 to what you are to do." 
 
 Beverly thanked the Bishop, and retired, well 
 pleased and full of expectation. He had no 
 sooner left the room than one of the elders, who 
 had been present during the interview, and who 
 had his case in charge, offered to send tht dis- 
 patch, saying, "I like that fellow's honest face, ^ad 
 hit spirit of obedience." 
 
 That night B.:verly witnessed a sight without 
 precedent or parallel in our land. Two hundred 
 men, with all their families and belongings, were 
 held in the hollow of the Bishop's hand, renounc- 
 ing all control over their habitations, and moving 
 at his will. When he rose to read the fateful 
 list, a hush, solemn and profound, fell on the 
 house. Ronan, like every one else, listened in- 
 tently, but his name was not there. 
 
Beverly at the Conference m 
 
 A* he row to pait out with the throng, ■ hand 
 WM laid on hii arm, and he wai told that the 
 Bishop withed to tpealc with him. When he 
 reached that individual, he felt hit hand clasped 
 warmly for a moment, ai the Bishop said: "You 
 are wanted in MiUbank. Talte tUi letter, and to 
 at once." 
 
CHAPTER Vai 
 
 In Birkey's Store 
 
 AT Birkey's store, in Millbank, the usual Satur- 
 ^ day night crowd had gathered, to purchase 
 Sunday's supplies, to loaf, gossip, and chaff each 
 other; to shake out the budgets of Dame Rumor 
 and Mrs. Grundy, and, with ungartered faculties 
 enjoy this natural social club. They sat on soap 
 boxes, cracker barrels, or reclined on burlaps 
 and counters, amid a smell of cheese and codfish 
 and the odor of sage and dried herring. 
 
 Some kept well-filled brier pipes reeking, while 
 others meditatively chewed "long green," and list- 
 ened to the discussions of village prattle. Most of 
 them were mill hands, with lathy figures and tal- 
 lowy faces— spinners, carders, dyers, bleachers 
 spoolers, and shuttle-shooters— with the greasy 
 garb and crushed mien that denotes a hopeless 
 outlook on life. 
 
 Among the number were a few lean-flanked 
 farmers, who bore the brunt of the boisterous con- 
 versation, nothing loath. The best rough-and- 
 tumble wrestler in the settlement, bandy-legged 
 sawed-off Ad Whitely had the floor, and was 
 discoursmg on penurious people, "skinflints and 
 flea shuckers" he called them in the spicy argot of 
 the forks of Otter Creek. 
 
In Birkey's Store 113 
 
 "Old Sinner McLaw," he blustered, "is the 
 orneriest man under the canopy. He 's meaner 
 en a mud turtle. You hear me orate ? He 's 
 smaller en the hind end of nothin' whittled some. 
 Yes, sirree ; he 's nerrer en that. Ef I only knowed 
 how to signify it or bring it to yer minds. I 'm 
 givin' it right from the shoulder now ; on'y I can't 
 tell half of it. Ef he could steal the coppers from 
 a dead man's eyes, he 'd feel et they wuz worth 
 forty dollars apiece. He makes me sizz. I 'd like 
 to yank him one. I '11 leave it to Lew. Hain't 
 that so. Lew ? Ef it ain't, I do n't want a cent." 
 
 At this the long-coupled storekeeper, who 
 could cover more ground in a hop, step, and jump 
 than any man on the hill, bit into a prune, and 
 said: 
 
 "I '11 tell you what the dod-burned old critter 
 did for me some years ago. Hip vife wuz sick, 
 and Laura wuz away, and the doctor jest said he 
 was starvin' the old woman to death, and told him 
 to go to the store and git some extra eatin' for her. 
 He kem in here and bought a quarter's worth of 
 sody crackers, grumblin' about extravagance 'tell 
 you 'd a thought he wuz the 'probable son,' as the 
 nigger said. When he got home, he found her 
 sittin' up, some better, and he hides the crackers 
 in the woodshed and next day brings 'em back 
 here and asks me for his quarter. An' I give it 
 to him jest to see what human nature would do 
 when it lets go all holts. An' the old pelter jest 
 naturally stood right there" on his two hind legs 
 and took it, by gosh! It tee-tow-shally flabber- 
 gasted me, and me an' myself just went out fer a 
 
114 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 •pell to git cooled oflf. He 's a doggoned ole 
 mummy dug up from Egypt er some other sea- 
 port, an walkin- around to save funeral expenses. 
 He s a thumper, there ain't no use a-talkin'." 
 
 ..wr'J''V.'* "■* '"'■*'^'" °^ ■'• '""''" said Whitely. 
 What d'ye think of that?" 
 
 "That hain't all by a long shot." said the 
 grocer, spitting at a knothole in the floor, and 
 looking up at the rosette of fly-paper tr,-ked on the 
 celling.^ One winter he hed about two hundred 
 head o steers, an' his salt, which he buys by the 
 carload, give out. The road wuz broke up with 
 the spnng thaw, and he couldn't haul anything 
 from the station near his farm. I sell salt fer a 
 livm . along with several other things, an' one day 
 he walks m an' sez, sez he, 'Lew, kin ye loan me 
 a barrel of salt till I kin git a team to the little 
 _s.dm near my place?' I sez, 'Yes;' an' hang me. 
 If he didnt take it, an' when he got his carload. 
 he brought a barrel back and rolled it into my shed. 
 How s that fer close, I want to inquire?" 
 
 Bud Busby, the best coon hunter on the pike, 
 who said paradise was full of persimmon-trees, 
 with a possum in each one, pulled up his topboots, 
 m which his trousers were inserted, till the gilt 
 stars on the red tops gleamed brightly, and said: 
 When the last preacher fust come here, old Sin- 
 ner handed him a present done up in a paper, and 
 told him to open it when he got home from church. 
 His wife watched him shuck it, and it had more 
 peelin s onto it than an onion ; an' what d' ye think 
 he found when he got to the nub o' the thing? 
 Well, gen-tle-men, I'm a buckskin hoss ef it 
 
In Birkey's Store 115 
 
 war n't only a apple, by gosh, a measly rusticoat 
 apple." 
 
 The listeners glared steadily at the last speaker 
 for a moment, to show their appreciation of his 
 fling; and then Hen Budgell chimed in. He was 
 the musical genius of the place, and, as "Ad" 
 Whitely said, "could squirt "le 'Jenny Linn 
 Polker' outen a mouth organ better 'n any feller 
 from the Re Horse Tavern to t'other side o' the 
 cocoonery." 
 
 "The lop-eared Dutchman who worked fer him 
 one year told me that, when the old man used 
 the bellows of a winter mornin' to blow up the 
 fire on the hearth, an' got the blaze started, he 
 always put a stopper in the nose of the bellows 
 to save the wind for the next time. Do you 
 know, when he drops a coin into his weasel-skin 
 • purse you kin hear the bird on it screetch, 'Fare- 
 well, vain world; I 'm gone forever 1' Dad sez ye 
 kin." 
 
 "Let me get a word in," said Schoolmaster 
 Nixon, who was as thin as a hoe handle, and 
 could scarcely cast a shadow on a side hill. "Mc- 
 Law is a curmudgeon, and no mistake ; but he is 
 not all bad. Give Old Nick what 's coming to 
 him. He has his good side, too. You mentioned 
 Laura ; but not many of you can remember when 
 she came to his house. Sinner obeys her as the 
 tin rooster on the lightning-rod of his barn obeys 
 the west wind. But she is not his own child. 
 He adopted her out of an institution, and I saw 
 It done. One summer day, many years ago, the 
 boss of the orphan asylum dowri in the city got 
 
"6 A Modern Apollos 
 
 about two dozen wagons and omnibusses. and 
 drove out here to give them a breath of fresh air 
 and a sight of green grass. You know McUw's 
 
 !!T%'»?n'"^^''°'^' ™"' ""^ S^™^* °f shellbarks 
 n It. Well, the manager asked the old fellow for 
 the privilege of driving in and letting the children 
 have a picnic. As it would cost nothing, McLaw 
 said. Yes; and in they went. I was a boy my- 
 self then; and when the procession passed through 
 the village, we quit playing town ball, and tagged 
 after them to the field. The old man went out to 
 see them also. 
 
 the "Im""!.,"^ «',.""■""' *'"'°"S'' *h« gate into 
 the field, the children shouted their glee; and 
 when the vehicles stopped and the keepers lifted 
 rtiem into the deep grass, they ran for the 
 wild flowers like mad. I was near McLaw 
 as a wee sick girl was lifted out, so frail, and 
 pinched with sad eyes. When set down, she waded 
 into the clover waist deep, took one look at the 
 hills and the sky^ gave a pitiful cry, and fell prone 
 on Che earth. The manager picked her up, and 
 said: June is too strong for her little soul. She 
 is drunk with the summer.' Old Sinner was star- 
 ing at her, and finally he asked, 'What's her 
 name ? 
 
 " 'Laura,' answered the man. 
 
 •"Where's her folks?' 
 
 kinfoik''^ ^^^ """"" '**" °'" '"°"'^''' "°'' ^"y 
 
 "McLaw was trying to hold himself back, but 
 was borne on desj :te his efforts. Out of some 
 deep place he said, 'What will you do with her?' 
 
In Birkey's Store 
 
 117 
 
 " 'Take her back to the Home in my buggy.' 
 " 'Sa-ay 1' said Sinner, speaking slowly and sol- 
 emnly, 'd'ye see that house up there on the hill? 
 That 's mine, an' not a soul in it but wife an' me. 
 I own this place, an' if you 'II give her to me, I '11 
 be good to her. I '11 take her for my own daugh- 
 ter. I '11 adopt her at once.' 
 
 '"Take her, Mr. McLaw, and you can sign 
 the adoption papers to-morrow;' an' he laid the 
 child i,i old Sinner's arms. You never saw a 
 proude.- man than he. He walked toward home 
 stepping high, like a blind horse in tall grass, try- 
 ing to whistle a stave of 'Bonnie Doon.' He 's a 
 Scotchman, you know." 
 
 "That 's a fact," said Drover Biggs. "I was 
 there, an' saw the whole thing. An' it went smack 
 through me, like a buckshot through a box o' 
 axle grease ; an' my ole woman wuz so glad she 
 shed tears enough to fill a sap-trough." 
 
 "Yes," resumed the teacher, "he carried her 
 tenderly to his home, and for weeks watched over 
 her sick-bed. His wife was delighted with the 
 little one, and declared that before she came the 
 house had been a body without a soul in it." 
 
 The group was deeply interested when Biggs 
 took up the tale. " 'Bout three weeks after that," 
 he said, "I had a horse-trade with Sinner, an' I 
 went up to his place. The hired man, on his 
 way to the pasture, met me and said that the 
 child was like to die, and that the doctor had 
 no hope at all ; so I concluded not to bother him 
 that day, but went into the barn to look over the 
 stock. I was standin' in a stall at the fa d, 
 
ii8 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 kind o' in the dark, when in comes McLaw, with 
 the sick child on a pillow irf his arms. He lays her 
 down gentle like in a manger on the hay, not 
 knowin' any one was near, and kneels in the stall 
 on the straw, and begins to pray. I could hear 
 every word he said, an' it was somethin' like this: 
 'O Lord, here 's a pore little young 'un. She hain't 
 got no mother or father or no anybody to care 
 for her, an' I brung her to you. Once you laid 
 in a manger jest like her. Lord, helpless an' weak. 
 We can't do nothin', Lord. Seein' we can't, an' 
 you kin, I 'm askin' you to spare her. Lord. I 'm 
 makin' bold to ask you.' 
 
 "I saw Sinner's wife comin' out to hunt him, 
 an' I slipped into the cornfield an' went home. 
 Sence then I always say every man's got two 
 sides to him." 
 
 "Some has three or four," said Ad Whitely, 
 drying a drop on his cheek. And then, as Birkey 
 turned to wrap a mackerel for a customer, the 
 best talker of the small synod gave in his con- 
 tritation to the symposium. 
 
 "Every human has somewhere in him a hint 
 of the Divine, and some things about that codger," 
 observed Lafe Newton, a local preacher, known 
 among his neighbors as "the wet log," which 
 term, among the country people, describes a per- 
 son so prosaic and phlegmatic that nothing can 
 kindle his emotions or inflame his imagination, 
 and who, in consequence, has made a total failure 
 of the ministry and returned to laic life, "seems 
 to indicate that he is a singed cat, as the proverb 
 goes, and not altogether a bad sort. I some- 
 
In Birkey's Store 119 
 
 times wonder if the old skeesicks isn't playing 
 'possum and fooling us all. Of course, he is a 
 miserly curmudgeon and well entitled to the cog- 
 nomen 'Sinner;' but I have thought he likes that 
 appellation entirely too well. He rolls it like a 
 sweet morsel under his tongue, and never loses a 
 chance to use it himself. Many folks like to ap- 
 pear belter than they are, and a few strive to ap- 
 pear worse. They are called, in the schools, 'psy- 
 chological freaks,' " drawled the "Wet Log;" "and 
 my professor at the university used to say they 
 would well repay study. I suspect McLaw be- 
 longs in that category. His continual manifesta- 
 tion of a petrified moral nature is entirely too ob- 
 vious to be sincere, I think," he concluded, dog- 
 matically, quite in the clerical manner, is though 
 asking who could withstand his logic. "If Uncle 
 Ezra's heart was wholly undraped, we would find 
 he wears a double vesture, with sackcloth for out- 
 ward service." 
 
 "Hev you any reasons more 'n your own sus- 
 picions ?" queried Birkey, who was sprinkling sand 
 over the floor. 
 
 "Yes," replied Lafe, "I have some f^cts of my 
 own observation and a few given me by one who 
 knew him intimately. Firstly," he went on, with 
 the exegetical habit strong upon him, holding his 
 index finger erect, "many years ago, when he con- 
 cluded to adopt the orphan child who had caught 
 his fancy at the waifs' picnic, he asked me to go 
 to the asylum with him in his wagon and aid him 
 in securing the little one. You all know there is 
 a lovely garden in front of the Charity Home, 
 
ISO 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 hid out m flower bed,, with bordered walks; and 
 we. being too early by half an hour, had to wait 
 for admission. I strolled through the well-kept 
 place, admiring the rare plants and gorgeous 
 blooms After awhile I missed 'Sinner,' and went 
 to search for him. and, strange to relate, discov- 
 ered him m an angle of the great building near 
 the wall, kneeling by a flower, and watering it 
 with tears. As I came quietly up to the spot, I 
 saw him kiss the blossom again and again: He 
 thought he was hidden from sight by the tall edi- 
 fice; but I stepped close, and said, 'Mr. McLaw, 
 what IS that which has moved you so mightily ?' 
 
 He looked up, as ii ashamed, wiped his eyes, 
 and said, in a low voice : 
 
 "'It is a Scotch daisy, a wee crimson-tipped 
 thing from the moors of my own native land It 
 minded ms of my innocent youth. Again I saw 
 the laverock in the lift mounting heavenward in 
 
 Z'T^ t?"^J °"" '"°'' ^ •'«"<' 'he cascade 
 m the highland glen, and the call of its sparkling 
 waters unmanned me. I am ashamed of my tears/ 
 You need not arologize for them,' I said ; 'but 
 I am surprised. I thought you carried a cinder 
 where your heart should be. You have often de- 
 clared it." " 
 
 "'Well,' he acknowledged, 'I like life best on 
 such terms. The thistle is our national emblem, 
 
 iL f\tf •J'"°^''^^' <''°i^P'"^ '"to 'he dia- 
 «t of the far-off shore. 'Outwardly nsthin' is 
 thornier, inwardly n^thin' is silkier; but I maun 
 show the stinging prickles. It 's my am dour stub- 
 born kith glowering through my een.' 
 
In Birkey's Store 121 
 
 "Then," went on the observing Newton, "we 
 went in to draw up the papers to secure the home- 
 less one for his fireside, and I helped to carry little 
 Laura to his house. But all the way, as we rode, 
 I thought of a story I read about Christ, which is 
 not in the Bible. Only a small part of his life is 
 there given, and even that only in outline. Many 
 of the traditional stories are manifestly false, and 
 others doubtful; but a few flow into such accord 
 with what we know of the Son of man that they 
 may well be true. 
 
 "One is about a group of villagers who stood 
 on a street corner in Nazareth, gazing at a dead 
 dog lying in the highway— one of the despised, 
 half-starved curs which are the scavengers of Ori- 
 ental towns. They pelted the carcass with jeers, 
 and commented in words more unwholesome than 
 the object they looked upon. 'See his scalled 
 hide,' cried one ; 'and his lean ribs,' said another ; 
 |and his staring eyes,' echoed a third. A boy stand- 
 ing near heard the bitter speech, and spake quietly, 
 'Pearls arc not whiter than his teeth.' It was 
 even so ; in the dead beast's mouth jewels gleamed 
 lustrous and fair. 'Who is the lad?' questioned 
 an Essene in flowing gabardine, 'Who is he who 
 sees loveliness in such a vile thing?' And one re- 
 plied, 'He is the son of the carpenter, Joseph, the 
 staff on which his widowed mother leans.' 
 
 "I there learned," said the "Wet Log," retro- 
 spectively, "that even in the despised and obdurate 
 'Sinner' McLaw there was at least one good trait, 
 and I have looked for more, but in vain. He stead- 
 fastly acts like a hedghog, and palpably courts the 
 
*«» A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 contempt of hi. townimen, and he Mt. it «««.i 
 measure, heaped up and running over ' 1^,1 
 
 t^d ^r ^ ^ ^'"'*"'*"' °" *•■« his hired man 
 told me some years ago. We are all well aware 
 no beggar never got anything from hTm unZ^ 
 
 , Z ' ""= P*"": '" i8s8. All the mill. 
 
 Z"X^'t' '° '/'"" '"' «-y hei w 
 Not one teTk „'; """' ''='-''* ^" '^e flintiest, 
 ne give, though he had plenty of both. To all an 
 
 Bibi'^bactV'S:" ^'^'°" '=°"""'">*<1. "Fritz, the 
 t. Die backed Bavarian, was his employee- and 
 ho alleged to me that there were about /h 
 
In Birkey's Store 
 
 123 
 
 ing them Into the cellar ; but 'Sinner' laid he wai 
 laboring under an optical illuiion, and that no 
 thieves had visited hii premises. So it went on 
 until nearly all were gone, when the Dutchman 
 resolved to let the fierce dog loose (the same 
 Prince which afterward went mad), and he de- 
 clares that every morning he found the beast 
 chained up instead of having the run of the yard. 
 This puzzled him, as no stranger could approach 
 the brute, and 'Sinner' asserted that he probably 
 padlocked himself to the post when tired of keep- 
 ing watch. So the Prussian resolved to sit up 
 and see what this meant. He hid in the haymow 
 of the barn, and about ten o'clock he saw McLaw 
 coming out of his cellar with a lot of dripping 
 side meat and fat bacon from a barrel, which he 
 put in the smoke-house, chuckling to himself at 
 a great rate. He then tied the dog at his kennel, 
 and said, as he patted his head, 'Prince, you are 
 vexing that round-shouldered Hessian with your 
 nightly antics. Go in there and fall asleep.' 
 
 "The peeper then went to his bed, and in the 
 morning the good meat was all carried off, and 
 was frizzling in the frying-pans in the houses on 
 the Lower Bank. He remarked to McLaw that 
 the hams were disappearing very fast, and he re- 
 plied: 'Of course they are. We eat a great deal 
 of meat this cold weather. I have the appetite of 
 a shark, and you devour as much as four men ; but 
 when it gives out I '11 buy more. We won't 
 starve,' he said, 'never fear.' 
 
 "The man told me this tale," concluded New- 
 ton, "and then, in his naive way, said, 'Wat you 
 
•«4 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 tink of dat mam, Mister Log?' .„,! i r-Dlied. 'l 
 .urmi.e the misanthropical old hylcritel .rv 
 
 nght hand does. Wouldn't it be (unnv if ,h^ 
 crusty old grump. after all the gaffing ^c hive 
 pven h.m, i, all wool and a yard Td! and the 
 trimmings thrown in?" ' ^ "'* 
 
 "Would n't it knock us silly." said Ad -P.,., 
 way that last yarn ', purtier en'a Johnny jum^p' 
 a-peek.n' through the back door. I caiki ate it '? 
 about time I meandered fer home " 
 
 Saturday'^rt."""'"" "'''"'"''' ""'" ">* "«' 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 "A 
 
 The First Sermon 
 
 MODERN Apotlos,' whatever that 
 means," mused old "Brad" Baldwin, the 
 loom boss in Harley's mill, an illiterate but im- 
 portant member of Millbank Church. As he wiped 
 his oily hcnrlj on a piece of waste, he continued to 
 himself: "I more 'n suspicion we 're in for a long 
 spell o' dry gospel in these diggin's. If them 'ere 
 critical fellers who faulted the last dominie for 
 plowing close to the corn, do n't git a dos't now, 
 I 'm no profit or son of a profit. They must drink 
 what 's poured out to 'em, too. I won't belong 
 to a Church unless it 's a religious Church. 
 
 "Hello, Hi," he shouted, suddenly turning 
 around, "come here and help me git this here 
 note from Elder Hudson translated. It's cum 
 from Conference, consarnin' our new preacher. 
 Who was ancient Apollos anyhow? Wasn't he 
 that silver-tongue Bible orator who helped Paul 
 an' who could talk the heathen into the Church 
 in hundreds ? It reads that the Bishop did n't like 
 the way we gaffed Brother Holt ; but he wants to 
 please us, if possible, and by way of squarin' ac- 
 counts send us a 'modern Apollos,' thinkin' may- 
 be the Lord kin use him to reach the sinners of 
 Millbank." 
 
 US 
 
126 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 was as sweet as "Bob White's" fl^tVw ""'" 
 
 ;;An' what is a wet log, Hiram?" 
 
 wjtVH:Htr:e^Trabrr"H"'"°'' 
 
 Well^ he will be here Saterday-that 's to 
 
 do n't make a saint by a whole lot T„ . T^^ 
 fellors ',* 1 • . , ■' ""O'e lot. tiome o' these 
 tellers at km mighty nich talk =. fi.i, . . . 
 
 mill-race hain't eot re Sol °"' ° ">* 
 
 m,« »» Lt „ *■ '^«"g:'on enough to wad a 
 ^r,. Mebbe," continued Baldwin.^as he folded 
 
The First -crmon 
 
 127 
 
 th« letter and went to the !o jm, •'n;ebi e he kin 
 pry heaven open with prayer, er y.i.g old Satan 
 out of a sinner, as well as preach like Apollos. 
 Anyway, I stand by him." 
 
 The next day the preacher arrived, and the 
 group around Birkey's store forgot to spit for a 
 full five minutes, while gaping at the active youth 
 who put his hand into the boss's broad palm and 
 said, "Are you Mr. Baldwin?" 
 
 "Yes, sir ; that 's my name. An' you 're the 
 parson, I reckon. Wife allowed you must come 
 up to our house and stay till you kin do better." 
 And the exhorter picked up the stranger's bag of 
 books and satchel of clothing, and led the way 
 up the street, under a battery of curious eyes, keep- 
 ing close to the palings, to find footing amid the 
 mud. 
 
 The boys, school-free, racing homeward, halted 
 to stare and whisper, "That 's the new minister," 
 in rueful tones, regretting that fishing on Sun- 
 days must lag now, and meetings would begin, and 
 the bass just right in the old dam, with new poles 
 waiting in every woodshed. 
 
 The shoemaker, in his door, relieved himself 
 by emitting a jet of nicotine that swamped a tum- 
 blebug in a hoof-print on the highway, and said 
 to the crowd inside : "He 's a husky chap. Looks 
 as if he could hoe his own row." 
 
 As Beverly followed Baldwin up the little, nar- 
 row street, he could hear a derisive "Hallelujah ! 
 hallelujah!" floating from the roysterers in the 
 grocery. 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin welcomed him with true hospi- 
 
'28 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 tality, and gave him the best room. The dinner- 
 table was set on the airy porch, where Jennywrens 
 hopped to the floor from the peach boughsTnd 
 
 uLall' '°T '°, "''■ '"^ ^°°' -"= ™='d'=" ^ 
 thoM t^t^V,°' '"''' °' ^"'"''''^ provender, al- 
 
 which she had prepared for his coming. 
 
 l,,.!^ r ^°"^" P"''"'' "'^ -^"ff^^. °'d Baldwin 
 aughed and sa.d : "Every housewife has her favor- 
 ite dish In coofcm- it she becomes expert. I 
 fj^^ \\)u '™'"^" "" °"'>' ''°°^ =>"« thing per- 
 could make the coffee, and Aunt Melissa Irwin the 
 
 brln i^l""'^ i*" '"''"""• M°"'^^ McKim the 
 bread, and Sister Royer the jam '• 
 
 When the creamy Mocha had loosened Sev- 
 er ys tongue, he blundered out the information 
 hat to-morrows sermon would be his first regu- 
 
 lr.°"^' « . '' '''''°""<' '" ™^»' P'^"^ and ad- 
 dressed Sunday-schools, leaving then, little the 
 worse. He had helped at a "brush camp" i„ the 
 
 aione he had never compassed. 
 
 .mlr^'^JT "'^^ ''^"^^' ^""J <=a"^^d the local 
 elder, old Deacon Hubbell, to say, "I'll be there 
 
 to-morrer to see that go.lin' try his wings." 
 
 1 he next morning, after breakfast, Ronan 
 walked mto the garden and sat, half-di.ed and 
 whoHy nervous, looking at a tiger-lily, with its 
 bronze hps sp.der-spun, while deep within its bell 
 a bumble-bee was ringing matins to the Sabbath 
 
 sou H J" "m-"' "'^ ""''' "°' «°°«>e his 
 
 soul. He was tretnbhng with that nameless dread 
 
The First Sermon 
 
 129 
 
 that fills a fine nature when beginning a lifeworlf, 
 that indescribable sensation of weakness and in- 
 sufiiciency. 
 
 A footstep startled the robin in the arbor be- 
 side him; and old Deacon Hubbell stumbled in, 
 saying, as he sat down after his greeting, "Had a 
 dream last night, young fellow, about you." 
 
 "Now," thought Beverly, "this good soul has 
 come to comfort me. Heaven has sent him;" and 
 so he said: "A dream? Tell me what it was." 
 
 "Well," said Hubbell, knocking a caterpillar 
 off the bench and smiling unwholesomely : "I 
 dreamed that you got up in the pulpit and made 
 a try at preachin", but you got in the brush, lost 
 tetotially, plum blind. You tried to man it 
 through, but you couldn't; and after ye had dis- 
 coursed about as long as this 'ere cane," he held 
 up his paw-paw walking-stick, "you went round 
 and round in the thicket till you tangled your text 
 all about you like a hoss in a picket-rope, and had 
 to signal for help. Then I got up and finished 
 the sermon best I could." 
 
 This, then, was brotherly comfort to cheer a 
 beginner in his work. The old man grinned as 
 he noticed the full efTect of his tale, and, hearing 
 the church bells clanging across the roofs, he said, 
 "Come on ; it is time for service." 
 
 "I'll be there soon," said Ronan; and when 
 the elder had passed down the road, he entered his 
 room. A few minutes later he appeared again 
 and walked gravely to the church with the loom 
 boss and his wife. When they came within sight 
 of the httle building, it was evident that most of 
 
130 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 the villagers had resolved to hear the new minister 
 that day. 
 
 The chapel was overfull, and under the horse 
 sheds the wagons were crowded with people un- 
 able to get in. The few aristocratic members were 
 in their pews, and the honest-hearted country folks 
 crowded into every available seat. Many of the 
 throng were merely curious, some came to wor- 
 ship, and a few pitied the bewildered beginner. 
 
 During the singing of the opening hymn old 
 man McLaw and his daughter walked down the 
 aisle to their pew. Ronan, in spite of his nervous- 
 ness could not but notice Laura McLaw as 
 she threaded her way through the crowd. She 
 was certainly a luxuriant vision of female loveli- 
 ness. Her oval face and olive skin, with a faint 
 hint of color in her cheeks, her coronet of dark 
 hair, large eyes of velvety black, and full red lips, 
 went to make a striking face of a somewhat bold 
 tjrpe of beauty — a woman who, in days of chivalry, 
 would have gone through courts ringed with 
 Cavaliers, as a planet moves amid its satellites. 
 She wore a gown of ivory-colored mull, shot with 
 gold — "a sort of sudsy stuff with yaller poker 
 dots stirred in it," as one of the millhands after- 
 wards described it. 
 
 Well she bore herself under the gaze of the 
 many eyes turned on her as she walked to her seat, 
 and greatly she enjoyed the sensation she made 
 that day. The gaze of the crowd was respectful 
 and courteous, however ; for all knew of her power 
 over her foster father and of the numberless chari- 
 ties helped and good deeds done with the money 
 
The First Sermon 131 
 
 he so freely gave to her. "A splendid woman," 
 was the popular verdict, "possessed of an inward 
 spirit to match her peerless beauty." 
 
 The few who were in sympathy with the young 
 preacher put up unworded prayers for him as he 
 bungled through the service and weltered, all help- 
 less, m the depths of his text, which was the first 
 three words of the Book, "In the Beginning" 
 Leviathan could not dive to its depths, and this 
 novice was whelmed therein and lost. Erect pale 
 motionless, he stood; unable to edify, unable to 
 stop, maundering on endlessly in obvious insipidi- 
 ties. *^ 
 
 Presiding Elder Hudson, who had come out 
 from the city to see the young condor try his An- 
 dean flight, sat abashed and mortified in a front 
 jpew, wishing to help, but only able to ejaculate- 
 Lord, give us patience I Lord, help !" 
 The class-leader had his face bowed in his 
 hands. The curiosity seekers were snapping their 
 watch-hds impatiently, and those standing near 
 the door were slipping out. 
 
 Suddenly an amazing transformation occurred 
 The speaker halted, gazed about, and then drew 
 himself to his full height, with rapt eyes looking 
 far away. At the end of his own power he had cried 
 mwardly for aid; and that day the Spirit put on 
 Beverly Ronan's being as a garment. Something 
 prophetic, vast, lifted him. It was the soul of the 
 text. The awful soul, of which the words are the 
 mere shell, seemed to take hold of him. A shud- 
 der shook his strong frame, and he held to the 
 desk for support as one who clings to the bars 
 
138 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 of the high altar. His gaze burned straight on. 
 as If he saw the Invisible. His voice grew resolute 
 and sincere and rich with orchestral harmonies, 
 full of thrilling tones and haunting accents, with 
 cadences mournfully melodious, as the meadow 
 lark s yodel spilled on autumn fields. His features 
 glowed the while like the face of Him who saw the 
 Apocalypse. Up and on he flamed, higher, higher, 
 in gyres of luminous eloquence, till Alec Blee. who 
 had vexed Baldwin all morning by whispering, at 
 each awkward turn, "Is that your modern Apol- 
 los? heard the old disciple say, as he looked vic- 
 toriously over the faces upturned in rapturous ap- 
 preciation: "That 's our modern Apollos! Praise 
 the Lord 1" 
 
 When Ronan nad stopped and sat trembling in 
 
 hrs chair, there was a silence as if heaven said. 
 
 Yea, audibly then. Many who rarely sang praise 
 
 joined m the hymn that swept round the old gal- 
 
 It is told that from that hour Deacon Hubbell 
 was a changed man. All mellowed and chastened, 
 he lived the life he preached. Professor Leland, 
 who had come four miles to hear the new preachet, 
 remained after the service to say, kindly, "Thank 
 you, young man, my heart has been refreshed by 
 your words." 
 
 When these and others had greeted and praised 
 him, McLaw, the rich farmer, came forward, and 
 said, "Can you go home with me to dinner?" 
 
 "I thank you, sir," Ronan replied ; "but I think 
 I must decline. I shall need rest fo- the evenine 
 service." " 
 
The First Sermon 133 
 
 "Aye, so you will; but you can rest there, and 
 1 ll^get you back before early candle-light." 
 "Well, I will go," Beverly answered. 
 The hours passed pleasantly, and it' was late in 
 the afternoon when Beverly rode toward the 
 church. Laura accompanied him, in order to at- 
 end the evening service. Just outside of the town 
 there was a corduroy bridge which spanned Otter 
 t-reek. The stream, usually a small one, was 
 greatly swollen by the heavy rains of the last fort- 
 night; m fact, on this particular afternoon it was 
 a ragmg river, for the dam four miles above had 
 burst under the pressure of the yellow torrent 
 
 The horses balked at the bridge and shook 
 their heads; but Laura urged them on, and they 
 crept fearfully, under the lash, toward the other 
 side. Beverly felt the structure sway, saw the 
 girders leave the piers, and, with a crash, as the 
 raging element tore the timbers asunder, the car- 
 nage went into the flood. 
 
 Beverly caught Laura's hand, and both leaped 
 clear of the plunging hoofs, disappearing under the 
 water. As they rose, the maddened horses strug- 
 gled upon thetn and beat them again beneath the 
 boihng torrent. Bruised and bleeding, they were 
 swept toward the lower dam. Ronan, who was a 
 superb swimmer, held Laura fast, bringinr her to 
 the surface; but a chill was at his heart,"for she 
 lay quiet m his arms, stunned or dead. He heard 
 the roar of the falls at the mill just below, and, 
 with his last reserve of energy, caugh* at a pros- 
 trate tree lying half submerged. Grimly clinging 
 there, he dragged himself into an eddy, and found 
 
«34 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 bottom with his feet. Then lifting the girl, he 
 reeled to the shore, where he sank on the sodden 
 grass. 
 
 A farmer had seen it all, and his call brought 
 the neighbors to the rescue. They found them 
 bruised and weak, scarcely able to be moved, but 
 finally they were taken to Laura's home. 
 
 It was soon discovered that she was not seri- 
 ously hurt ; but Ronan was so badly injured that 
 he lay for many days in great suffering. 
 
CHAPTER Xi 
 
 A Battle with Ghouls 
 
 ■p\URING the night on which Philip Ellis and 
 i~J Edith had left the Colonel sitting on the 
 broad porch, after telling him of their mutual love, 
 unusual events occurred. As the two young people 
 passed into the house, the veteran was very happy. 
 "She is so much like her mother," he was thinking 
 to himself, "the same sincerity and gentleness. 
 Every year makes the likeness of form and face, 
 of gesture and voice, more noticeable." 
 
 Thus he pondered, thinking of his beloved Ag- 
 nes, whom he had wooed and won, thirty years be- 
 fore, in Sussex across the sea. With memory's 
 eye he could see the red-tiled cottages, the ivied 
 church and the linden-sli,, led streets, the white 
 roads, with hawthorn hedges and the thatched 
 stables of the antiquated hamlet. The moon above 
 him, almost shrouded in the broken clouds, and 
 the shrill of the katydids in the stirless trees seemed 
 to make the pictures of the past more vivid. 
 
 Like many men, the Colonel had not fully ap- 
 preciated the sterling nobility of his wife until 
 she was gone. His affection had been steady and 
 true, but not demonstr .dve. He had denied her 
 nothing, and, while toiling at his profession of civil 
 engineer, he had planned varied delights for her 
 
'3'5 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 in the future; but that future had been too brief 
 for the realisation of many of his plans. 
 
 Few men l<now that it is not costly pleasures 
 or expensive gifts that charm a true woman but 
 a constant ministry of little remembrances. Not 
 great houses or luxurious apparel, priceless jewels, 
 or foreign travels, but the thousa. ' little atten- 
 tions of everyday life. It is the touch of hand 
 or tone of voice, the turn of the head, or the gift 
 of a flower, that sweetens life for her. 
 
 A man, when once convinced that a woman loves 
 him, and loves none other, can meditate on the fact 
 and wait a long tim. before hearing it again. He 
 takes the delightf.-l tn;,., into his nature, and feeds 
 all his sensibilities on it, and girds his loins for 
 whatever task is at hand, toiling on uncomplain- 
 ingly. 
 
 On the contrary, when a woman knows that 
 1 man loves her, and none other, she needs fre- 
 quent expression of that love. The abstract truth 
 seems thin and cold to her unless oft-repeated 
 lover fashion. And, after her husband has de- 
 clared seven times in one day that she is the para- 
 gon of her sex, the perfect flower in the garden 
 of womanhood, the one fair mortal in all *he world 
 to him, she will call him back from the gate, as 
 he starts away, and ask demurely, "Are you sure 
 you love me ?" 
 
 As the Colonel sat dreaming of his young wife 
 his gaze wandered across the fields and rested upon 
 «ie little green and white hill of Laurel Cemetery 
 There Agnes Satterlee had been laid away soon 
 after her arrival in this new land. A great loneli- 
 
 m 
 
A Battle with Ghouli 13^ 
 
 nen came over the soldier as he listened to the 
 lovers singing in the parlor to the music of the 
 quaint old melodeon ; and he rose and went quietly 
 to his room. He got out some faded letters, a 
 lock of hair, and a daguerreotype of a refined proud 
 face; and as he kissed the little likeness, a great 
 sigh seemed to come from the depths of his soul. 
 Again the mystic spell of the dear old days gone 
 by was upon him, and he sat thinking for almost 
 two hours, until he remembered that this very 
 day was the anniversary of her death. 
 
 An unaccountable yearning seired him, ancl, 
 putting his mementos carefully away, he stepped' 
 out into the silent hall, his room-door closing after 
 him with a self-locking bolt. Out into the open 
 air he passed, and turned through the orchard in 
 the direction of the little graveyard across the 
 fields. 
 
 The moon had disappeared; but he knew the 
 path well, and soon climbed the low wall into the 
 city of the dead. Near his wife's grave, in a corner, 
 there was, under a spreading willow, a rustic seat 
 which he himself had placed there years before. 
 He sat down upon it, overwhelmed with his deep 
 feelings. After a time he felt refreshed by his 
 tears, and was about to start homeward, when a 
 covered wagon was drawn up to the wall in the 
 shadow of the trees, and two men came into the 
 burial ground, carrying a dark lantern and some 
 spades. They went to a newly-maJe grave, and at 
 once began digging into it. 
 
 The Colonel, from a lifelong habit, had his re- 
 volver in his pocket, and he determined to wait 
 
138 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 and lee what luch work meant. It did not take 
 him a moment to conclude— and rightly, too— that 
 Ihey were a pair of grave robbers, stealing a 
 corpse; and he said to himself, "I will see if I 
 can identify them." 
 
 Between him and the ghouls was a lot fenced 
 with an iron railing, and in a corner of the lot a 
 group of boxwood shrubs. Slowly the Colonel 
 crept toward this spot. 
 
 The two men were talking in low tones. The 
 lantern shined upon their faces as they stooped 
 over their work, and the man watching them rec- 
 ognized Larry Edmunds, a lank, lantern-jawed 
 ne'er-do-well, who was hostler at the Red Horse 
 Tavern. The other miscreant was a stranger. 
 
 Cogitating whether to try to capture them or 
 not, the Colonel's hand caught a pendant of the 
 iron fence. It was a hollow casting in the shape 
 of a funeral tassel, and, unfortunately, in the bell 
 of it some wasps had made a home. His clutch 
 roused them, and they buzzed angrily about him, 
 stinging his face and hands. Brushing them off 
 in his pain, he stirred the shrubs, and the male- 
 factors looked up. He knew he was discovered, 
 and rushed out, pistol in hand. "Haiti" he cried; 
 but the desperadoes, seeing only one man, ran 
 at him. He braced himself for a shot, but his foot 
 slipped in a depression, and the bullet sped too 
 high to stop them. One villain had grasped a 
 stake that marked the head of the desecrated 
 grave, and the other brandished a clayey spade. 
 As they reached him, the soldier uttered a loud 
 cry, and was felled to the earth by a blow from 
 
A Battle with GhouU 139 
 
 one of h!i auailams. A moment later a third 
 man came running from the wagon. 
 
 "What 's the row?" he a>ked. 
 
 "We have knocked a tpy galley weit," said Ed- 
 mimds. 
 
 "Who is he?" the new-comer asked. 
 Edniunds held the lantern to the face down 
 which the blood was flowing. The wounded man 
 was unconscious, and lay still. As the hostler 
 turned the light upon the white face, he started in 
 surprise, and said, "It is Colonel Satterlee." The 
 raw-boned ruffian was frightened. 
 
 I^Does he live near here?" queried the other. 
 ''Not half a mile away," Edmunds replied. 
 "Is he dead ? Let me examine him." And the 
 tote-comer, who appeared to be the leader, kneeled 
 by the side of the prostrate man, and proceeded 
 to examine him. After a few moments he said: 
 "He is n't dead. Fill up that grave, quick, Ed- 
 munds. Here, Nucksky, help me carry him to 
 the wagon. We must rack out of here at once. 
 Leave no sign, Larry, and hurry after us." 
 
 Soon the helpless man was stretched in the long 
 
 covered wagon, the curtains were fastened, and 
 
 the party moved up the lane toward the main road. 
 
 "What 's your game now, Moulton?" asked the 
 
 driver, who had been addressed as Nucksky. 
 
 "I do n't exactly know what to do next," the 
 leader answered. "If this man is found, he may 
 be restored to consciousness. No doubt he saw 
 Larry, and would expose him, and then the fat 
 would be in the fire. It means a Ufe term if we 
 are caught." 
 
140 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 The driver leaned toward Moulton, and said, in 
 a low tone, "What do you say if we finish him and 
 sink his body in the mill dam ?" 
 
 "No, no," returned the leader, "I '11 never agree 
 to that. I am bad enough now, Heaven knows; 
 but there is no blood on my hands. It would be 
 willful murder, and I '11 never consent to it ; never. 
 I wish that woman had n't died of such a strange 
 disease, or that the medical students had never 
 heard of her. We would n't be in this fix then." 
 
 "Maybe he 'II cash in his checks anyway," put 
 in Edmunds. 
 
 They held the lantern to the old soldier's wan 
 face, but there was no consciousness in his eyes. 
 He was breathing freely, but knew nothing, and 
 moaned feebly from time to time. 
 
 "This is bad luck," said Larry ; "we '11 have 
 the law on us like a thousand of bricks. It knocks 
 everything out of kilter. We are trapped like 
 dad-burned hyeners, for we can't take him into 
 the city, and we can't leave him here. I wish 
 them college fellers had n't sent us to git a remains 
 fur 'em — dog-gone their pictersl Any one over 
 six oughter had sense enuCf to keep outeti this 
 scrape." 
 
 The blackleg called Moulton seemed puzzled; 
 but after some thought, he asked, "Larry, how far 
 are we from the Cave Hills ?" 
 
 "About two milt, or thereabout," repUed the 
 hostler. 
 
 "Can we get out there and back to town be- 
 fore sunup?" 
 
A Battle with Ghouls 
 
 141 
 
 "You bet; but why should we go there?" an- 
 swered Edmunds. 
 
 "To cover up our tracks. Keep a stiff upper 
 lip, and do n't snivel." 
 
 "All right, sir," responded Larry. "I '11 stick 
 to yer closer 'n a tick. But we are queered, I tell 
 you ; we could n't win a hoss-race if they waz only 
 two nags in it, an' we owned 'em both." 
 
 "Do you know where a nigger named Lige 
 Hull lives ?" questioned the foremost fellow. 
 
 "Do you mean the overgrown moke who drives 
 the team of knee-sprung skates to the yellow dear- 
 born wagon?" asked Edmunds. "I sec him go 
 apast our tavern with his crowbaits offern." 
 "Yes- he is the man," returned the leader. 
 "Right enough, I do ; but there 's slathers of 
 bad goin' to git where he lives. It 's the rocky 
 road to Dublin', sure thing," asserted Larry. 
 
 "Well, we must pile out there. Drive as quickly 
 as you can," said Moulton, turning to the driver. 
 "Skittf the cattle, hotfoot; chuck the whip into 
 them, d' ye hear ? We must get this muddled busi- 
 ness straightened out." 
 
 Edmunds took the reins from Nucksky's hands, 
 and, cracking the whip over the horse's heads, 
 said, "Now, we 11 lose no time." 
 
 The wooded road was rocky and winding, and 
 ran into a desolate section of the country. A few 
 cattle were accustomed 10 graze in the thickets, 
 and some patches of land along the streams were 
 cultivated by half-starved tenants. For several 
 generations undefined rumors of an extensive 
 
142 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 cavern had given the region its name, "The Cave 
 Hills," but if any one ever knew of such a place, 
 its whereabouts had been lost to the present 
 dwellers roundabout. 
 
 Where the main creek cut through a range of 
 hills, close against a bluff, stood a frame house, 
 unpainted and dilapidated. Here Edmunds pulled 
 up the horses. The brawling of the streams on 
 the rocks below was all the sound they heard. 
 
 "This is the place," said Larry. 
 
 "Call him," answered Moulton. 
 
 The driver put a crooked finger in his mouth, 
 and whistled. Soon the door opened, and a huge 
 Negro came out. 
 
 "Who dat dar ? What 's wanted dis . time o' 
 night ?" he asked. 
 
 "Are you Lige Hull?" asked Moulton. 
 
 "Yes sah ; dat 's me sure." 
 
 The leader got out of the wagon, and carried 
 the lantern across the road. 
 
 "Come here," he said. 
 
 When the black was at his side, he held out 
 his left hand, on which was a silver ring with a 
 green stone. 
 
 "Do you understand?" Moulton queried. 
 
 "I does, fo' sure ; yes, sah, I does. 'Skuse me, 
 boss, 'kase I did n't know you at fust. If I had 
 enny flow of langwidge, I 'd 'pollergize bettah, 
 sah; 'deed I would." 
 
 "There's an injured man in that wagon. I 
 want you to pack him into the hiding-place, and 
 conceal him for me. Tell Operator No. i that 
 Operator No. ii wants him kept securely till he 
 
A Battle with Ghouls 
 
 143 
 
 inquires for Wm. It will not be long. Can you 
 do this ?" 
 "Yes, sah." 
 
 Moulton peeled off a twenty-dollar bill from a 
 roll, and said: "Keep that; there is more where 
 that came from. Do n't open your mouth to any- 
 one, you understand ? Keep mum." 
 
 "Yes, sah. I 'se deaf and dumb and blind and 
 numb in my haid ; I suttinly is, sah, twell Gabriel 
 toots he'es hohn, sah." 
 
 "Do n't mistreat the wounded man. If his mind 
 comes right, watch him ; but above all, do n't let 
 him escape." 
 
 "All right, sah; you can trust me; you sholy 
 kin, sah." 
 
 When the black giant had lifted the sufferer 
 into the house, Moulton said: "Back to town, as 
 fast as you can speed. Do n't spare the horses I" 
 When the wagon had left the house, Hull bore 
 his burden through the little building into a barn, 
 built flush against the high rocks, and overhung 
 with vines from the great ledge above. His wife 
 followed him, ready to help. Presently he said, 
 "Open de trap, Suze;" and, as she pulled some 
 hay aside, shoved back the rough boards of the 
 side of a stall, and showed a passage into the hill. 
 The Negro stooped, carrying his charge as if 
 it were a child, ar-l stepped on a steep path, de- 
 clining into darkness. His wife handed him a lan- 
 tern, and he strode into the cave, with the man on 
 his shoulders. At the end of the path he crossed 
 a broad floor, and entered a tunnel, which opened 
 upon a wide avenue. A sharp turn revealed a dis- 
 
•44 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 tant light shining on the nitre crystals along the 
 walls of the avenue, and flashing from the pendant 
 drops of a group of stalactites. 
 
 The light proved to be a camp-fire, which rud- 
 died all the gypsum roof of a spacious hall, where 
 a number of men were making false money. The 
 men stopped their work when he came up, and 
 gathered around to look at his burden. 
 
 "Heah 's a crippled man that Operator No. ii 
 told me to keep good care of till he called fur 
 'um," Hull explained. 
 "Who is he ?'■' said one. 
 
 "I dunno; neber seed him afore," answered 
 Lige. 
 
 One of the men some distance away came up, 
 looked curiously at the sufferer, and then sud- 
 denly became interested. 
 
 "I know him," he said. "He is Colonel Sat- 
 terlee, of Millbank ; my uncle." 
 
 ■ The speaker was Major Marley, who, after 
 scanning his relative closely, remarked, "I wonder 
 who has done this, and what it all means." 
 
 Stooping, he examined the Colonel's pulse, and 
 lifted his eyelids, and said, "I fear he is seriously 
 injured — perhaps fatally." 
 
 Then he searched the Colonel's pockets, find- 
 ing an account-book, a small sum of money, and 
 a bunch of keys. These things he appropriated, 
 and then gave Lige instructions to take good care 
 of the injured man. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Major is Rejected 
 
 A ^M^ ''?/ *""■ ""^ Colonel's disappearance. 
 Jr\ Ma.or Marley visited the Satterlee home, 
 and stayed a fortnight. He pretended to be en- 
 tirely Ignorant of the whereabouts of his uncle 
 ana seemed to be deeply grieved at the sad occur- 
 reace; but his stay was not profitable, for he was 
 conscious that he vexed Philip, embarrassed Edith 
 and made matters unpleasant for all concerned. 
 
 The Major was as determined as ever to win 
 Edith for his wife. He had set nis heart on her- 
 but, more than that, she would inherit all o' t-r 
 father's riches, and he dearly loved the distinct, i 
 that wealth brings. By hook or crook, he pur- 
 posed to be rich, and he intended that nothing 
 should hmder him from attaining that end. Thus 
 far. he had pressed his suit in every honorable 
 way; but the intuition that often guards woman 
 had protected Edith. 
 
 The Colonel's daughter had grown up with 
 mmd unfretted, hrart elate, and fancy free. Her 
 environment had been friendly to the develop- 
 ment of her nobler nature, and, like all sincere 
 souls, she could not believe that any one was 
 thoroughly bad. Her trustful impulses made her 
 excuse all wrongdoers. 
 
 » ,45 
 
146 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 A few days after Major Marley's arrival, ahe 
 and her aunt were sitting upon the porch, and the 
 older woman was complaining that the grief over 
 the Colonel's absence was killing her. 
 
 Edith replied : "The uncertainty is hard to bear. 
 It is terrible; but. Auntie, hope has not yet died 
 in me." 
 
 "Well, it has expired in me. I doubt not that 
 your father has been murdered— foully done to 
 death," and the t ars came to Mrs. Redmond's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Who could be so cruel as to kill him?" Edith 
 asked, looking off across the hills. 
 
 "Many are heartless, dear. This is a wicked 
 world. Some find pleasure in ruining others." 
 
 "I disagree with you, Auntie. This is a good 
 and honorable world. There is wrong done, but 
 it is exceptional." 
 
 "Nonsense, child ; how can you prove such an 
 assertion?" 
 
 "By one undeniable fact." 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "It is simply this. Badness is news. Have you 
 not noticed how every evil deed is told over and 
 over, while good actions pass by unnoticed? This 
 proves that wickedness is novel, strange, unusual. 
 Righteousness is so common that no recognition 
 is taken of it. It passes unmarked. A hundred 
 clerks are honest, and their names are in no news- 
 paper; one is dishonest, and his name is printed 
 in fifty journals. A thousand wives are faithful, 
 no telegraph wires carry their names ; one is faith- 
 less, and her name flies on viewless wings far and 
 
The Major is Rejected 147 
 
 '^%V^°T'"^ '"''*" "' considerate, dutiful, 
 and kind, and no man asks after them; but one 
 « inhuman, brutal, and the reporters make a path 
 to his door. The human race has already reached 
 such a plane of high development that good thines 
 are common, not worthy of record, and sinful ac- 
 uon» are accounted notable." 
 
 "I had not looked at it that way, Edith. It 
 seems true, blessedly true," and Mrs. Redmond 
 rose and passed into the house. 
 
 Edith remained sitting on the verand; a few 
 moments, and then walked slowly down among 
 the trees to the summer-house. The hopeful look 
 had died out of her eye,, for now that her aunt was 
 no longer with her, it was not necessary to cover 
 up her own grief, or to hide the yearning that there 
 was m her soul for the absent one. She wanted 
 to be alone and sat with her head leaning on her 
 hand and her eyes half closed. Only the breeze 
 
 -.tu u°"'V °' """"■«' '^•""ed in harmony 
 with her thoughts; for as it sighed through the 
 leav-^s over her head, it seemed to whisper and 
 to whisper again,— 
 
 " But O for He touch of a ■muAtd hmi. 
 And the sound of a voice that is still !•• 
 
 "Your eyes seem heavy, Edith; have you been 
 weeping? a voice broke in upon her reverie, and 
 the Majors burly figure blocked the little door- 
 way. 
 
 She raised her head slowly, and replied: "I crv 
 every day over our loss. I feel as if the sun had 
 gone down at noon! I had the best father that 
 
148 
 
 A Modern Apollot 
 
 ever daughter had. I have been reviewing the 
 past, and I can't count the deeds of kindness he 
 has done for rne." 
 
 The great gray eyes filled with tears, and she 
 turned her head ;> vay. 
 
 "He was a good man, a patriot, hero, and 
 gentleman," returned Marley. "Few are like him." 
 
 "You say 'was,' Floyd. Do you think he is 
 dead?" and the pitiful look on her face might 
 have melted a heart of stone; but Marley's was 
 unaffected by it. 
 
 "I fear he is lost to us forever," he answered. 
 "It is a mysterious case." 
 
 "Is there nothing you can suggest to help us ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Yes, cousin. I hate to see you grieving so. 
 You seem but the ghost of your dead self. I miss 
 your laughter, and your songs, and wish I could 
 bring them back." 
 
 "I thank you for your sympathy." 
 
 "It is not sympathy, Edith." 
 
 "Not sympathy ! "Then what is it ?" 
 
 "Edith, it is love I" and for a moment his face 
 lighted, until it seemed almost noble; "a man's 
 long-cherished love. Often have I tried to express 
 it, but hesitated; now I speak," and the Major 
 came nearer, and rested his hands upon the little 
 rustic table at which she sat. 
 
 "Floyd, stop! let me speak!" she cried, rising 
 from her seat. He held out a hand, as if to detain 
 her, and she shrank back into her chair. 
 
 "Nay, nay, Edith," he said; "I have revealed 
 my secret, and now I must tell all. For fifteen 
 
The Major i" Rejected 149 
 
 yeirs I have dared to dream that you would be 
 mine. On the battlefield, and in the daily round 
 of life, I have kept this vision before me. Now, 
 tell me, is there any hope ?" 
 
 "None, Floyd, none — absolutely none. Dis- 
 tniss the thought. I am promised in marriage to 
 Mr. Ellis. Had I been forewarned, I would have 
 spared you the pain of a refusal." 
 
 "The Captain has won the prize, then. I am 
 out of the race," and a vindictive light glistened 
 in Marley's eyes. In that moment the virus of 
 moral gangrene infected him. 
 
 Edith felt a stir of pity in her heart, in spite 
 of her dislike for him. It is doubtful if any true 
 woman can put away a man's affections without a 
 pang. 
 
 He turned away slowly; but looking back, 
 asked humbly, "We shall still be friends, Edith?" 
 "Always, I hope," she said, and he walked 
 away, and was soon hidden by the shrubbery. 
 
 Edith rested her elbows upon the table, and 
 buried her face in her hands. A few tears dropped 
 through the slender fingers upon the rough boards, 
 for she was overpowered by a nameless dread, and 
 could restrain her feelings no longer. 
 
 A man's figure again darkens the little door- 
 way, but she does not appear to notice' it. Then 
 a strong arm encircles her waist, and a dark head 
 is pressed gently against hers, and she hears a 
 deep voice saying, "My darling I" Her white 
 hands are imprisoned in one brown one, and pulled 
 gently from her face, and a smile breaks through 
 her tears, as she says, "Philip I" 
 
ISO 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 In the meantime, Marley had hurried to hit 
 room, with an evil intention in his heart. Once 
 behind the shrubbery, and out of sight of the 
 arbor, his humble bearing had suddenly changed, 
 and his slow pace had been quickened. As he en- 
 tered the house, he looked about him, peering into 
 almost every corner, and then started for his room. 
 Seeing that the coast was clear, he crossed the hall 
 to Colonel Satterlee's locked room. 
 
 Edith was the only one who had a key to it, 
 and she entered once every day to read a portion 
 in her Bible. 
 
 The Major, however, had the bunch of keys 
 which he had taken from the old soldier in the 
 cavern, and with one of these he opened the door, 
 and stepped quickly inside. He then closed it 
 softly, and placed a chair against the keyhole. The 
 room was dark, save for a little, flickering stream 
 of light that straggled in when the wind blew one 
 of the long curtains away from the sash. To Mar- 
 ley, however, the room and all its furniture were 
 familiar, and he did not venture to disturb the 
 curtains. He made his way directly to a cabinet 
 of carved wood, on the other side of the room, and 
 began trying various keys in the door. Presently 
 it opened, and he began to search through the 
 drawers, and at length drew, from the lowest one, 
 a legal document. Then holding it so that the lit- 
 tle stream of ligl fell full upon it, he read it; and 
 as he read, an evil look flitted across his face. It 
 was a will made by the Colonel before he went to 
 war. His estate and all his handsome fortune were 
 
The Major ii Rejected 151 
 
 left to hii only daughter, and to the ion who had 
 fallen In battle. 
 
 Marley put the paper in his coat pocket, care- 
 fully locked the cabinet, and had just started for 
 the door, when he saw something white lying upon 
 the floor. He picked it up, and, holding it In the 
 light, found it was a note, asking Edith to meet 
 some one in the arbor at midnight on the coming 
 Wednesday evening, and it was signed "Harold." 
 The Major's eyes protruded more than ever as 
 he read the little slip, and he decided to keep it, 
 saying to himself as, he put it in his pocket, "I "11 
 be there, and see that meeting." Then he stealth- 
 ily slipped out of the room, locked the door, and 
 hurried into his own room. 
 
 When Marley was safe behind his own door 
 he again read the will. The lawyer who drew it 
 up had his name on it; also the two witnesses, 
 who happened to be the Colonel's coachman and 
 wife. 
 
 "The witnesses probably did not know the con- 
 tents of the will, but signed at the Colonel's re- 
 quest," so thought Marley to himself. "If I could 
 make a deal with Lawyer Donnelly, I could get 
 half the estate. It would fix me for life. Let 
 Ellis have the girl, if I can get this money." 
 
 After tea, he strolled down to the barn, and 
 said to the coachman, "Where can I find Attorney 
 Donnelly ?" 
 
 "I could n't tell, sir," was the reply. "He died 
 during the war. I dunno where you 'd find him 
 now ; I 'm dubious about that." 
 
ija 
 
 A Modern ApoHoi 
 
 Marley chuckled, not at the attempted jest, but 
 •t the good fortune. "So," he (aid to himieH, "I 
 im the only one who knows whom the will 
 favor.. I .hall have it copied in hi. writing, with 
 my name a. a beneficiary of half the e.tate. Every- 
 one know. I am kin to him. He, doubtlet. will 
 never return alive. Luck i. with me, .urely.'' 
 
 At noon of night on the following Wednesday 
 the Major slipped out of the houie by way of a 
 wmdow, and established himself in a tree near 
 the arbor, so situated that he could see the in.ide 
 of that httle .tructure. 
 
 He had scarcely climbed into his hiding-place 
 when Edith came from the house, closely wrapped 
 in a long velvet cloak. In the bright moonlight 
 he could not be mistaken; it certainly was his 
 cousin. 
 
 She entered the summer-house, and waited for 
 a few moments, and then came to the door, and 
 looked across the fields toward the city The 
 moonlight feU full upon her face, and Marley no- 
 ticed that it wore a worried look. Suddenly, a 
 man's figure appeared on the other side of the low 
 wall, and with a bound cleared it, and followed 
 Edith as she turned back into the arbor. Evi- 
 dently, judging from his gait and gestures, the 
 man was yoang; but a heavy cape, with a deep 
 collar drawn up around his face, made it impos- 
 sible to distinguish his features. 
 
 The meeting lasted almost an hour, but seemed 
 much longer to Marley in his cramped position, 
 unable to move for fear of being detected All 
 he could see was the two figures, dimly outlined 
 
The Major it Rejected ijj 
 
 .itting .t th. table. Their conver„tioi. w.. car- 
 ned on in ,uch a low tone that the Major could 
 
 ."t l.™*""* °' "•»."* ~"''' °"'' »°"« 'hat 
 
 «rf Th ; ^"l' ?;" """P"* •nd """"d Edith, 
 Md then turned without a word and hurried away! 
 
 th. r^^ '^f hing him until he disappeared domi 
 the road, and then hastened back to the house. 
 .nH » !." f *" '"''" "^"' "" Major defended, 
 
 h^ I..T1 1 "• '° '""'' '" " "" *'"''°*. which 
 he had left open, .aying to himself, "I '11 give EUi. 
 aJ.Iow that will stagger him; but III bide my 
 
 The followng day Marley made a trip to the 
 city, and called on a friend at the best hotel The 
 rooin into which be was ushered was an office, and 
 adjommg was a bedroom, which displayed the 
 occupant . b^arre ideas of luxury. Heavy curtain, 
 of red velvet hung at the wide windows, and por- 
 tieres of the same material swung before the sev- 
 eral doorways of the double room. Two or three 
 cost y but martistic paiMings, suitable for a bar- 
 room rather than a living-room, adorned the garish 
 wails, home antique carvings and a few bits of 
 pottery were m view. A marble statuette of Mer- 
 cury, tiptoe on an aerial pinnacle, signaled a bronze 
 i-syche on the mantel, beneath which glowed a 
 grate full of ruby amhracite. Stuffed chair, invited 
 IrnJ"'' "Ifv' K'^o-cyed horned owl stared 
 from a small bookcase in one corner. A few In- 
 dian relics were hanging here and there upon the 
 walls, and several French novels lay on the table. 
 A, the Major entered the room, a bel! toned 
 
'54 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 onyx clock chimed the hour of eleven. Near the 
 fireplace sat a man, well dressed, apparently doing 
 nothmg but gazing into the mass of burning 
 fuel. As the visitor was announced, he rose, and 
 came forward to greet him with easy politeness. 
 When the greeting was over, the host turned and 
 locked the door, as if it were a matter of course, 
 and pulled the red curtain in front of it. The 
 Major smiled, and thought, "Deynell is n't to be 
 caught napping." 
 
 "Well, what's up now. Major?" asked the 
 doctor, smiling at his guest. 
 
 The Major lost no time in making the doctor 
 acquainted with his errand, and soon both their 
 heads were bent over the Colonel's will, which 
 was spread on the table; and Marley was asking, 
 "Do you know of an expert penman whom I could 
 get to reproduce this writing exactly?" 
 
 "Yes," the host replied; "I know a great artist 
 m that line of work." 
 
 "Can he be trusted to keep mum?" 
 "Of course; he is one of our Southern agents, 
 and has taken the same oath as all of the oper- 
 ators," answered the doctor, who seemed to ooze 
 secrecy at e^ery pore. 
 
 "Will you convey this instrument to him, and 
 return the new one to me with the insertions I have 
 interlined here?" asked Marley. 
 
 "I will ; provided you help me," said the doctor, 
 his countenance, on which the world, the flesh, and 
 the devil had set their triple imprimatur, showing 
 the strong feeling that fiUed him. 
 "In what way?" 
 
The Major is Rejected 155 
 
 "Well, I need your assistance and experience 
 m _^nmng a girl that I have loved for'a long 
 
 th.?fi»% ^'"? °" ''^"'" «""' "» he got one 
 
 Ivr Th '''^''".•'°"«' P'l; » *he of good fam- 
 
 of his h hK "." ^"^ ''°''' °f ""= halter-strap 
 of h.s hobby, and flung the stable-door wide 
 uoes she come of good stock?" 
 
 thJUr' '""■"'l'"' """■ '''"''' ^ better. Don't 
 
 bre-'d'th'lll ''.''"°''-'"'"<'«'' always boast of their 
 breadth of v.ew, so evildoers rehearse their good 
 
 about what the miners call a Sunday-stone," con^ 
 tinned Deynell, in his smooth voice "Th; drio- 
 
 turn to stone. It would be spotless carbonite of 
 hme .f .t were not for the dust made by the miners, 
 whch turns .t black. On Sunday the mine is 
 ctosed, and the snowy formation is unsullied. 
 When the stone is broken through it shows 
 broad, sooty bands, inlaid with stripes of white. 
 This passion for sweet Barbara Lawson is the 
 clean part of my life. I love her above everything 
 her mine'."' ^ *°'"'' «*^' "^ "»''' hand to caU 
 
 "Have you tried to win herr 
 
 "Yes ; but she still refuses to listen to me. Her 
 rejection of me only increases my admiration for 
 
«s« 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 her. Can you help me. Major? Uve and war, 
 you know, usually go together; Eros and Mars 
 were ever neighborly." 
 
 "I doubt if I can," replied the soldier; "when 
 a woman won't, all the king's troops can't budge 
 her. The boy said Eve was created by taking the 
 backbone out of Adam; and, in my opinion, he 
 seems to be about right. I tried such a cha.e my- 
 self, but got a flat refusal, that johed my pride 
 severely. However, if I get Satterlee's money, 
 1 11 find women enough to smile on me, and I 
 won't tie myself to one, to tote her about after she 
 grows dowdy and gross with age." 
 
 «T.'7u*'' " °°'^ °"' ^^^ '""^ ""•" »*'<* Deynell. 
 If I had her in my power, I believe I could per- 
 suade her to accept me. I always fancied myself, 
 you know. There will be little coming to this 
 mdiyidual when the meek inherit the earth." 
 "Where is she?" questioned Marley. 
 "In a little western town where I was reared," 
 answered the doctor. "You know, I am a self- 
 made man." 
 
 Marley thought him considerate to assume 
 this responsibility, and said: "If you had a woman 
 to help you, it would be no great undertaking to 
 get her out of that small place, and into your 
 charge; but it would do Uttle good. She would 
 hate you more than ever. No man ever built his 
 hope on a sandier foundation, my friend." 
 
 "My thought is this," returned DeyneU, with 
 a smile on his full lips; "I wouldn't have her in- 
 jured for a shipload of guineas; but if you could 
 abduct her, and I rescue her, I would then have 
 
The Major is Rejected 157 
 
 a chance to approach her. I believe I could win 
 her If this was done. If 1 once had all that wealth 
 of womanhood warehoused, I think I could «t 
 entire control of it. Once she was mine, all that 
 wealth could buy would be hers, and I would be 
 true to her. Bad as I am, I have never seen a 
 
 '*°'J??°, .'^'"'' *" '°'* '"^ •"" '•"' °"e-" 
 
 '"If is a big word," replied the Major, dubi- 
 ously. 'If the sky should fall we could catch 
 larks. Where would you have her placed, to be 
 accessible for your vows ?" 
 
 "One of our Western agencies for the secret 
 operators is on Folly Island, in the river not far 
 from her home," answered the physician. "I go 
 mere twice every twelve momhs. I have some 
 trusty men out there; but I would like you to 
 oversee the work. You have been a soldier, and 
 the danger of the exploit would please you. You 
 are accustomed to 'moving adventures by field 
 and flood,' while I prefer to use diplomacy and act 
 indirectly. If yoii do this successfully, I will have 
 the Satterlee will transcribed with your name 
 therein. That business is more in my line, and we 
 can aid each other. Will you do it. Major?" All 
 the reptilian nature of the medico emerged in this 
 lengthly speech. 
 
 "I will," said Marley, feehng that acquiescence 
 was necessary to the furthering of his own scheme, 
 and having a natural tendency toward intrigue. 
 
 After a little further conversation, the two de- 
 ceivers shook hands, and parted. For awhile the 
 doctor sat by the fire, puffing at a strong, black 
 cigar, and dipping into the future, and he smHed 
 
158 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 as his fancy, with rosy pencil, sketched the hour 
 when Barbara Lawson should be his own, and his 
 serpentine plans would all be victoriously con- 
 summated. ■' 
 
 As he sat gloating over the thought, a faint 
 knock shattered his reverie, and, turning about 
 m his chair, he called, "Come in 1- 
 
 The door warily opened, and Moulton entered 
 You sent for me?" he said, as he threw him- 
 self into a chair. 
 
 ». '^"l ]^"', " "^"'" ^"^ " I'"* °f Havanas 
 was pushed in his direction. When the one he 
 selected was going freely, he asked, "What's the 
 business this time. Cap?" 
 
 "Read that letter first," said Deynell, tossing 
 an envelope to him. It was from his spy at Del- 
 nurst, and ran thus, in part: 
 
 "I have seen 'the Minty'-Foley-^t Lawson's 
 twice, and I fear he will spoil your plans. You 
 know he ,s the fellow who got Bat Mooney's 
 deathbed confession, and set Ronan free from 
 prison He is sharper than an old red fox, and I 
 think he IS now trying to bring Ronan and Bar- 
 bara together again. Unless he ii silenced, your 
 cake will be dough very soon. He goes East with 
 cattle every month. I think he stops in Millbank, 
 a suburb of your city, and sees Ronan frequently 
 If he was out__of the way the coast would be clear. 
 "Yours always, N. 36." 
 
 As Moulton folded the letter, and handed it 
 back, the doctor said: "The writer of that letter 
 IS one of us. I keep him in my old village to re- 
 
The Major is Rejected ,59 
 
 port everything concerning Mijs Lawson M„ t 
 want .0 .et. hi. Old Hifemirn'-SaVdTor! 
 
 un";sh?grhr;::Lr^" ''--'''"-- 
 vi.iS°h^e:rtargV.° "''" "- '''-''' ""^^ "•« 
 
 hl^^fl"f\ =°'"«e"ance clouded. His cold 
 blooded deviltry clamored in his breast. °" 
 
 he slgSd"'""' "" ""''• "^* -«" "^ Hsky... 
 "Not very," answered the physician. "He is a 
 nomad, without kindred or friends; Le VoZ 
 
 miss him, and she would be better without the 
 drunken sot. Will you do it for me'" 
 
 Deynell winced, and renliVy) 
 abashed: "I won't either j/u .'"""ewhat 
 But others a^:; ^ L^us^'ruTou^rd 
 a man ^ho will do it? You shall -hav^Xht 
 
 ex:e'r^ri"atTny''tst'r'-^^'?^''-^'' 
 I did for you, MruUf\e?ontinuTdt" „t' 
 ™— ^ral2^.^?^-f-'eX 
 
 '""weU-^S^^'-f™"-^^^^^^ 
 
 WeU, said Moulton, rather unwillingly, "I 'U 
 
i6o 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 •ee about it; but . Httle of this goe. a long w,, 
 with me. Good-bye rand he left the room 
 "T m •"•'"'^V?*'' '"«"'«<» DeyneU'. hard face. 
 1 11 venture Foley will be lony he meddled with 
 me. be muttered moodily. 
 
CHAPTER Xn 
 
 The Preacher in Peril 
 
 X over the accident which had almost cost the 
 
 how h'""'7 r" "''• '^'"y "'-" ''«<« of te > „; 
 how he and Uura McLaw had been found ex^ 
 hausted upon the bank below the bridge, just out 
 of the grasp of the swollen stream, and how wtoe 
 and unconscious he was, when kind handstid 
 
 rgirthre/ ^"'''^' '° ''■''''-•'-'' - 
 
 her^nT'""' J"""/"' *° "' "P ""«" 'hey found 
 her. and. ma few days, she seemed to be entirely 
 r«oveted; but Ronan lay in a semicomatose ,ut 
 for some tune. His superb strength had been 
 exhausted by the last brave effort to save his 
 
 The tovm-folk were deeply concerned, for they 
 had formed a favorable opinion of the young 
 preacher I„ class-meeting nothing else wa! 
 talked of and two of the matrons were appoinTed 
 to send fresh flowers to him every day. In the 
 midweek prayer-meeting fervent petitions went 
 
l62 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 WtK and .„ .„. .„xio„.r.e';r reXer 
 
 daily. She was nur, * "' """'""*'' '° •"'» 
 
 and^-„,r,ted?hat h ;'o~T"^"' ."'' """"'• 
 his evenr want ^ ''""''' "'°"''' '"PP'r 
 
 »icifma:;;:r;sT;ot °' "7""^'' -"'''^. ">« 
 
 hour, f^chZT/ """^V" '" "P for a few 
 out under the «d", Ttr";"' '" *" '"^-''«"' 
 and look off across the n,I^H "'"' ""'' *°"''' »" 
 and often hi, J^' reLT T"*" "''' ~*»' 
 
 o; .he churcl^-rSer-nS IheVe'e?': 
 
 a strange magnetiL'^^^C^tptht^'or "T 
 stood, with the Dois. „, ''."'P'hs. Often she 
 
The Preacher in Peril 163 
 
 «teadily, with wide, candid eyes, tliat «u.r<r„..H 
 .omething hypnotic in her ga^e ^* ^ 
 
 put a^.?de T VT"' "" '" ''" '"'P' »"<» " "he 
 ng balm there was a curious waverinir in her 
 ouch and a suppressed excitement in he face 
 
 ■M ! P'"'""'"'"' now raced and danced with 
 wUd tumult. At last she had happened u^^nte 
 
 rd"a„t;x;''''''°-«'''-'-^--^v: 
 
 condition of the farmers, as if he7aw '1 „. 
 
 nTfan io'r t^'i,-"" ^" "°' -^'nranrS 
 Lif „ i ""^ '=''""«» '" Laura. He was only 
 
 ^unf rh '° "°" •■" ^^"'^"^ f°"''""» for the 
 young Chrysostom. His soul was wrapped wholly 
 
 hook'him it """^"^ °' ^^'"^ "- '° -°'her 
 Th,^ , ^ "" ''^'=- "' •«"» «""«<! when 
 sSors Ind^h^n'r '"^^"P; "" '""«""" °f «"her 
 Ture But ^h '"«"''«<'. <J"'««y "» their discom- 
 Th,t.-t» , .^"*' P''P"'''y '" 'he toils now. 
 
 at last. A new light was in her eye and a new 
 "ace*:? '"J°'"; f !■ -''° had never feared thl 
 at her. "^ "'"" ""^ "'"'"" '""k"! 
 
 hintfnT ?^^*h»P<rs of Ronan's former life 
 hmtmgs of checkered career, did not diminish hei^ 
 *=eW toward him. but seemed ratherr'aldt 
 
A Modern ApoIJo. 
 
 i6« 
 
 that he loved ,o .ell. ml'oI^T *" °"* «<"y 
 R°P*> o/ poi,o„ f^?""f "P the main .tree" 
 
 Every shot iai„ed hi„ . 
 j;""** No one dareSl'"" **' P'"" ''a' ter- 
 
 . waiting- to put on h.. ^ *' ""n- With 
 f"' pony and hurrLd to !L '^, ""' '«"' ''"ddS 
 «■« smithy she overtooL M, '"^'- ^" front of 
 
The Preacher in Peril 
 
 W frothing, "nd r.»r.d hi. C'' ""* ""'•"' 
 forefeet on her .houldir, Sh^^ P""'»«f ^oth 
 «*f"l yu. and felt hi. L t f'"'' '"'° '>i, 
 but .omething in her iJ^t u^'"" '" ""er face; 
 ■noment. Q^'kly tuul°?*' *''."''«' Wm for a 
 W. red orb., .he'^r"' ^hi^T"^ "" »»" "«»" 
 »>"" down, and lef "^'t i '^'".' ^""' '°'«d 
 •""thy. then .Kpped hT. cw'^^u' '" '^^ of the 
 the po.t, and ca J^ht ,h. ,f f ," 1^'°"^^ " "nj i„ 
 " 'he ring „, ^if '<,,': " h '"' °V' '" "•« ""P 
 few moment, men came a„^ T' ?"' '"<• '" • 
 . Many „en haS ou^ht thi, f ""^ '° "«"". 
 charmingly imperious .f''"^? "8^"' *oman. «, 
 My; and one or two h/^ "^ ^' '" ^er dark dig- 
 for awhile, b« they t/'h!^"' "*' P"""? fancy 
 exhau.ted, and droLd I„^'? '""/""• •>"««>■ 
 
 ,''"rtwa.a.„„cumS'^^dhe?r""""'- «- 
 less and blithesome a. «u.hK ,'/""''' " '«""- 
 «« in the loops of «„,;•>?:''"'' ''"««"«r him- 
 P"«- A close observer coJid "^"V"' •"' •"« 
 rosy god with the bow h °h '^.'" "«' "o* the 
 to the center of her blg'^'A^X' " """ *"•' 
 
 -;;»^,ofher,.ro„g,er.Li;!;i's::^'':r:- 
 
 conS.:rs-r--St"'--- 
 
 had praised him n„ , , ' sermon she 
 
 strength had clinched the dr^K^*"' ^"'"^ ""d 
 h«r heart, and every ho„r "h ' '""' P'"««ted 
 
 '•"to the intricate «le„, Ht/'l"*''' '^''^^ 
 perience. °' "''^ profoundest ex- 
 
A Modern ApoUo, 
 
 166 
 
 •'hen .fap„^, .he p„",'tr°"°"" '"""r^nd 
 %'°W of her .ur?e„der ••"'"* '""' "« *ord. 
 
 «oijan realised that h. 
 "ounced .11 for thi, „et 'i^*"' ''•'ore, had re- 
 ft had"°.ir '" *" "°"bh„dTo 1°' "" '■»"" «'; 
 
 « had thrown about her T. ^' •"""'on that 
 .J^cnt that thi, r re cr« „r 't "« "«''« 
 •n her power,. The fir- h^w ^ ""^'^ «o unify 
 •he varia„, attribute, ',''!? """"ded that C^ 
 •Plendid whole Sh* ^^ "^''Mn into on- 
 
 The"- "l'^"'"''' « one^Stjr*- '"^^^^ 
 
 , „ ^°* goodly she i, I" n 
 "". as he watched h 'r' ?b„T"t "'°"^'"' ♦" "'"'- 
 ^« I m«^t .top this. 
 
The Preacher in Peril 
 
 %; and he 
 "lie of tri- 
 tte Uk hij 
 nd »lacken- 
 in the di(- 
 
 *'"> »h« worn.,, ,„ , :„ *' • g*Mle word. 
 »'•» «larnied » j „ ' ""' " ' '" 
 
 ""Phinwh,. .;.„,;' :;""f' ■' 
 fr«'o»edi..n,...f- ''•;-'';■'-'•' 
 
 "Thi'i muit c,',i , 
 
 other whom I lovt '/, 'f'' '~»'"' «o an- 
 
 «he precipice, he drew „ea;er^^ » i'^^-hot from 
 He httle under.tood hum * ""«« every day 
 
 ^ How weak i^,h."'"»»«'«k„e,., did BTveriy.- 
 
 j^-um-Unce. dose he™ 3l '?'" "»'°*-^ 
 .« • icnten was beine d« J ? . ^'""'^ 'elt as 
 '7 W. disunt dear o^ne :r«'"r ""' ''"■ "'d' 
 ■""""g a crumbling b^kVl" "f"" *« under- 
 wental stru«fie was ^ ^"""' ""» 'eet. The 
 ''"'r«''"*of1f;i;°-J-Pe^^^^^^^^ than the* 
 
 I «m going over .h, V r ^'"k. 
 »"* day, when fC 1^1'"' 1 '*"•" ">« «id, 
 
 His duty became clear TnH I ^"^ ">« '««,. 
 the thought. •■! wat^^f^'. *" "hamed of 
 «»everated. "j JJ " '"''"' "^ honor," he 
 hazard." **" P«'erve my probity at any 
 
 The next dav he .»j t 
 |«'her in the co^I arcade „^"" *"' ''«'"» 'o- 
 
i68 
 
 A Modern Apollo, 
 
 -**'""Og 
 
 SoWen skin, anj ^ smile pWcrf'^^*" "" »"»«- 
 
 'yn<f closr I in her laT^f u"' *''''^'' '^as now 
 
 «o tell her; but now h* J. -. ''"' "omethine 
 
 7«n^ for him to Tpet "t "l^ ""'' ">« 'vaf 
 
 ™lf ?oin^ on in'w: Vu? '''^"S^ '"e great 
 
 ''r'°"iw%7lCi:"^^r'''»''^<> asked 
 '^2;<'."forasickSlS''"'-'" -" shorter!" 
 
 WS.J.r""""*'-"- I'i^aUsoonheon 
 
 on^l^Z''-" '"' "^^' "««d, for your work 
 
 "», and I think T ... 
 /°r this mishap iXrdi"""' *" "" "««" 
 "■'«^'n5 the last two weL?"' " ^"' -J"' of 
 I have noticed it ",u. ,. 
 
 ^•^f^ietotair^-"-'--^^ 
 
 other ;:nf'th'"f'"''«"'^o away to 
 
 , «'^aee^tm':Xd r ''^ -- e^"' 
 
 J"'' voice was agitated 1 . '" " '»°'"«>'t and 
 you CO? H, °s'«tea, as she asked- '^^xn. 
 
 gor Have you decided?" ^here will 
 
The Preacher in Peril 
 
 « '^ 
 
 'No; but I will »o" Ti, 
 Wd for honor. "l^i, J» T" ^' fighting 
 
 P-- hour had 2T:\tt '^\""' '"• - 
 ^".«ady to stake terytwn^f ""'■ '''"''• »''- 
 summg desire. "Wfen T„ ^ '° "^ ""er con- 
 voice shook. """*'" yo" go?" and her 
 
 ,.^ She shra/k koto" the brinTb '"'• ^"'^•' 
 7 you go and never retu™ k ' '"""^ "" '"P- 
 of me.'" '"^ "*"">. what will become 
 
 "Of you, Laura?" Hi. t 
 
 .-ocab.; detrain! „ tEet^ ''"^ *" - 
 »geyes. "If you go I wm •'''"''"'' '"'^our- 
 
 "You CO Jth ™ ^° *'"■ y""-" 
 
 io the world's end r A-j ■ 
 ""» was in her voice -r *f "'»•"«« »weet- 
 "othing to me with;^ you ' '"'^ ^°~"' «'« '^ 
 
 ^"ra°UlirerX,t- a7d "■'"'"■ ^""•""■^ 
 , "Forgive me, d ar for thr* '"'^ '""" ""'^ 
 ••""t. I did not mean „K "^ ^ ""«'°"anly out- 
 Wood burst ove.a«Hf ''"''"'' ''"'"■y Latin 
 
 noble, my heris'^ure'"!!"']^ ''"'^- '•" 
 but since I first saw vn. ^ '^° "° "rong; 
 
 »yng. This is L; ma'ster"^?,"' "" ="'«' °"' 
 Beverly?" she pleadrd^ti, J ^'"' '°'8^^' ""■ 
 her cheeks and her whi^ t„H '"1^''""'='^ '^°*" 
 'ogly. *""« ''ands held out entreat- 
 
170 
 
 A Modern Apollo, 
 
 I «n helpless. I only tno* T ! '^ P'"'""^ "" <>"• 
 y°u go, there I will go " ■"" ^°" ' ""d, wh :re 
 
 -"Other, and ended h^n^ter' !"' ''"^°""" '<> 
 he shrank iron, what wou^d n " ""^ '°^''- but 
 
 "•uld not sustain hi^^ h" •Tr"''"«f ■'"'"n 
 through, and so s« sTient Th°? "°' «»'' •'■ 
 by ^esototion aided by tdi,^'^' ''''"''= '^^ lost 
 
 ^•"•a could endure ^'^^.''^""•■ty. 
 "oment. and then she 'osj .n'd "'^ '°' °»'^ " 
 flower garden on the othT, -f ^ "'*""=<' '""'o the 
 ;here hidden fJ si^hf hf sat°' "^ ''°'"^- "^ 
 "■e bees, murmuring^round T "^ *'P'' ^^ile 
 accusmg whisperers; and her con"' '""""^ '° ^e 
 won^er.Vy up into h", face ' '"'"' ""-^ S""" 
 
 cenc/^Xg Cs^M -j;;^i^ his convales- 
 'fom Millbank; i„ fact he h^^"' '''P''""« 
 
 At la'tT ""' -°" '^ '-S^ '° """"■" 
 
 Ws pulpit H,"!::;/;,'^^^'-- -J ""'^ to fill 
 O"" day he wrote to Barba« ^> '"ccessful. 
 ease him from his vows St i^'"^ ^" '° ^'- 
 '"f of ir^ilt and shame He w*" "''"' ' '«'- 
 act. beneath any true man £'!" ""' ' '"'- 
 '' out he was now in 
 
"">« Preacher in Peril 
 
 'he congregation. hL "' ' "'' '''""""ent of 
 and shallow, and the n, , ° *** wandering 
 The minist;r is not . "■'. ''^'^ '° ^^^ other 
 °[ 'he women s:,ired iL'"^"^ ' ' -'' -- 
 ^ey passed ont, their "Tes^'^ " ""^ """'^ "s 
 McLaw. "^"^ «^" resting on Uvtb. 
 
 t^^"o"l^::ZZf"' '■" ^'"■"- '- a nns- 
 Boveriys cruel !««';• ^^ T'"^ '">°<=''«d t; 
 "Other, and then took it t^Tv, "'^'' '' '° her 
 
 "'Sarlil-f^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^iS her arn.s abo^t thf Jrl" "b"'"" ""'"'• P"'" 
 
 'h'ng has gone wrong with B- < "'T^' ^"'^■ 
 h"» or any Ronan. I^ f, ^l'''"'^- ^his is n„,ike 
 
 enamored by .ome feather ieadr.' '°' ">* ''"■«. 
 'h.ng, but there must be so": ' ',' " "^'P'^hle 
 hoys surely honorable " ' ^P'^nation. My 
 
 -f^-=nts''rh'ert'' -'-«-' 
 «''ed for an early answer .^t"- '^''« '"'" 
 °"ce and wrote a womaTlJ" '^' '"' <'°'^" at 
 
 o stop wn-,ing selr^e" to '"' "^^ °'"""^-' 
 ^ohhmg that shook all h" 'frl ^-^ "'"' '» 'he 
 of woe. The picture of h ^^ '" Paroxysms 
 -iy loomed before he °"T i.'^'-"""'" ^et 
 
 Pa^t. and pictures, too of he >! '""' ''^^" '" 'he 
 -"--•olea„;,^----M...., 
 
'7a A Modern ApoUcs 
 
 hundred times. Now all ^. 
 
 • <""• i ^in at he. he^' ToT^ ^rot"' "" 
 
 DSAR Mr. Ronav r u 
 •hocked by your S '7, ^\'"« S^'^'y 
 ^° brilliant, is now cJouded t7 "^^' *""'='" ^^^ 
 '"ve done this I hfv. ! ^, ''"°""'ot why you 
 "ft yo- early ho?e'ir''.'°/^°" ""« '°" 
 «°"-.. might I^ you awav " ' "" ^""^ ^i- 
 
 was chosen to heipyouZ'™V% ''''""P' ^ 
 '"y faith to lead you and th «^'''"" °' ^od, 
 
 d.verge-a„other was to i, °" ''"'" ""<= '° 
 «° °n alone. You a fc ° b "T' """''' ""d ^ 
 v°w to me. My Veif „ ^' '■''**'«'' ^om your 
 I 'hall try tof^resl L,?ho ^:''"'' ^°" '«<>'«' 
 ™y bvrden, and ^t^ h "^""^ °' y°"- t^ke up 
 kind fareweu. ^y "-^ '""• ^ ^id you a 
 
 Jtours smcerely, 
 
 Although it „, "^--«-L-wsoN... 
 
 office, Barbara drermTned'.'"'"?' '° '''« P<>«- 
 f f. and so she ""0"^" ;° ".'"' the letter her- 
 ;hield her from the hot su„"T? ," .'^'''~'' '° 
 or riding, but preferred o\a,; 'f "h"° ""°°'' 
 the village, many faces smil.7 . i! ' *"" "^^--^d 
 and strangers turned a„d loot h";"' »he passed, 
 faced girl. Qn th; -"^ ^''c the sweet- 
 
 ;ver. hTr friends n^^i^Tr'^ ^''""°°"' ^^t 
 face was sadder, and he ,a Jv "^' *" "•''■ ^^^ 
 vanished from the brown *^^''^/''P'"*'''°" had 
 
 -hole, it was s..:.^z:zv:i ^"' °" »"« 
 
 Wer and sweeter too ^*'" ''°«« -as 
 
 ''.'^:S:t::ri::-;:5^-e was greeted 
 cneery Howdy do, Miss 
 
 if:- 
 
 ^w^5^Slilil!51S^ 
 
The Preacher in Peril 
 
 her drop the lettef nto .hrho™"""; "' *'"<='«'<» 
 ■n'o the sunshine o the streer.n".'.^"."" ''^"'" 
 •"-"self, "Something has h/n; ^^^ ■" "'°''^'« 'o 
 As the postmaster w^ happened to Barbara." 
 "ail, the same m L"w:r,::f '"^ ? '"' °"'^°-^ 
 '^as Dr. Deynell. The offiof T^ '''"'''= '"'"■ I' 
 "f . and, when his back 1 T '°"'"^ '"e 
 P'cked up a letter IhJ^ " ""'""l. Deynell 
 
 -c. hid ft un'dt'hifctr 'Ce ^''"'' «°--' 
 unsuspecting; for the rfn!^; Pos'master was 
 
 hood friend!. Soon tha /'! °"' °' '"'^ ^oy- 
 ^oom in the village Hofe? '"''"''"'' '^"' '° "U 
 
 openeVth?:„"2;:'^roif .'''■"''' "^ --'-"^ 
 
 again, and read BarUra°s let /' He ' '' ""'" 
 to know that the match II/k , ' '^*' '■'J°'«d 
 to himself, "I ■!, „2, f. '■°'''" "^'^ and said ■ 
 
 , He th;„ indeed /brier" ''°"""^'"™-" 
 handwriting, and saying: "°''' '""""-"^ her 
 "Rev. Mr. Ronan: 
 
 fa'thfulness. I never wlntto '"'"'"'" ^°"^ ""- 
 Heaven has sent measZ-o"™":.^"" ''"'"'■ " 
 "Barbara Lawson." 
 
 -Had begun, and he fJ:„7-Sl.„--k! 
 
'74 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 wg that she had not loved hi™ 
 dabbled hi, wings in thr^^t 7"^ '""""y- «« 
 stayed himself bv^hearJ^ .°' '°P'^«'y- ""<« 
 
 them to part Bueve'^ "!,""" '' "" •>«" '<" 
 «W: "You are on th,' ?" '""" '°'« '^thin 
 You will end taTu£;l?"' '"" '«»<■« t° ««»ho„or. 
 
CHAPTER Xra 
 
 "The Minty" is apt^^j 
 
 ONE Sabbath eveninir .h. 
 . church at UiZTLlmS""'t- '^*-«''« 
 m>scelIa„eous congre«tio?nf i *"•• "" ""«»' 
 people. "Kregation of town and country 
 
 Canaan wheTthTdomtt' °" ^'"'"^ » ^«* of 
 •^ar them up, or o„b'h'°''"u^ *'''»' '"o"" 
 dan's banks when h- "^ "" ''«'"' °n Jor- 
 
 »hou,d revcL Th'^sto Ur;:? "/ f?'"""''^^ 
 the acacias and terebinths "*""« """""^ 
 
 oppl;Ur^2edtrT «'•'"' °^ '"^ -'•'" 
 
 affinities; and the ovelorn "'"^ "•"' """"al 
 
 their tenderness for each jr?' ""' '""'«'» »'»'• 
 Flemish interior o happv hi'""'"'" "^ ^°"" 
 Pamted i^ ,o.,., woXfitiTcUeT *'""^'' '■' 
 
 christian behavL toward p^'rh '° 1°'^" ''" ""- 
 -J^ersi„tohis-?rX:^--f- 
 
 »7i 
 
176 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 •wok in the conventicle and .h.» 
 
 on tlie pulpit ••*' **"• w»» placed 
 
 ■•■^ "wo «n?, o/ ''"'"^ ^'^"'^ "»<• «•<• the 
 
 w!uchw..th:UXberr'^ "«'« •'^' 
 
 . laid tlie book down to ! ''"'"°"' '"d >»<« 
 
 ' Stite,, with hi, e^T, fixed ""? "" *««• "r. 
 long necic craned Wd. °" "L' """^ »"" »•» 
 heard the text read rfh "'"' "" "«» «"". 
 ■nto the meter they were iT"^' .'° '^' '"^'y 
 of Jeremiah, "I, tLre ' „ kT ^' ''^'"f «'" ^'"d' 
 »o physician there?" *" '" ^'"* » *«« 
 
 ataJS'olTTy^mJt'w.rr ? ""^ ">' — 
 iunior., seein, ritU" h m'^ ?"" '"' 
 preachers text to the end '° ""«^ ">« 
 
 buttrL;Xt?.£r^''r "" —on. 
 the passage, nf had ?^ '" ""* «P<»ition of 
 and was moving a,o'twh"har'^'"'' ."Secondiv." 
 when one of the dof r! ""P«*«oned stride, . 
 
 ««'e man loolced i„ ° a , r"''/"" " *""'"'''' 
 packed, but he saw a vacant I' ,"'" '''" *"'' 
 the Amen Corner ttlTT '^ " '" '°™"'l, in 
 '■■eing that his /og a , T" fr"' ''" "°' "°- 
 hound, with mournfiil ev^ ^ °*' =*"'"P-tailcd 
 
 ■•"^ to his legs. :TJ:1 htL"' "^'"^ """ '»"«- 
 
 --!;r:^ztdt:asr-^'--' 
 
 "Sgiea mto a pew saw the 
 
"The Minty" i. Captured ,^ 
 
 rail, over wWch hf I^n'""* "" "' '" »''« •"•' 
 
 .ndoveracro!.?hffl "^'T ""^ '°"*<"' °v«r 
 cr. across the floor in front of the olatform 
 
 the^Wk"Jr" "/ "'"' ""y* •«"• '"■"bed upon 
 
 ^^^.XriUe^^sSi-^Jef^'h" 
 was in an uproar • "P""! while the house 
 
 the wa^n^cuVs life tJ''""\'!''"''"'''^ 
 
 oi. p-'pit.iard';h?:t5rbr;ro Th' '"""'' 
 
 nonadin? and Mt .1, ■ *^ °' their can- 
 
 they ..ruV"hetred rsr °' '""' """"'" « 
 
 «ro2iS un^lV" ""'='""''''• "" tumult 
 used in pu^Wn ""^' f.""^ ^"J'««' the long pole 
 ded the hSu"*^ '"'"'°* "sh, and prod- 
 
 parted andt^ "'^ contestants. Then ^hey 
 
 fi^^d ;ir ai-d ::Se" zr""" "^ "^ '''"^■ 
 
 ^in^^^f^^:,^^-----ve 
 No sooner was the door p„„ed open than the 
 
'7* A Modern Apolloi 
 
 MiTron-colored diiturber bolted for it A. i. 
 
 All^„ i? k'-ywng hii way toward home. 
 
 All thought of relipou. meetine wa. vJn nV.-, 
 .o the di.couraged pa.tor .aid: "We X°.e «d 
 •■n«, 'I would not live alwav ' ,Z ,T °.1 
 
 be dismi„ed." '' *"'' ^'" "« *'" 
 
 cauift'tol*'^ T\' ""» •»""» 'O'w.rd. 
 «upit the preachers hand, and laid, "Twa. , 
 
 nole^rs'^iir;"''.fci'*" 
 
 Wew you here?" '^^ ^^' «™^ **"«« 
 
 .he'droter„"ow"an' ? ""' ^T'"" ^ -"' '- 
 
 "Tome? What i« it?" 
 
 Barney smiled assuringly, and said: "I can't 
 teU ye just now; but come along ^d me ,„ 
 you "1 soon find out." *' " 
 
 Ronan went to the donr i»i>i. u- . 
 ancient carryall was in waiting At^SeM'7 '" 
 
 quickly driven to the "Red Horse." '^ 
 
"The Minty" is Captured 
 
 79 
 
 ••id. We have ■ wedding here to-niirht Mv 
 daughter attend, your Church, andTfo wed a 
 young drover from the VVe.t. who come, here 
 «very two month,. Mr. Fole; told u. he W 
 you, ^d would ge, you here fo'r the .ervfce. M; 
 ^rl want, you to tie the knot. Say, no other pTr^ 
 »on can do it to please her." ^ 
 
 Ronan was thinking fast. "Let me ,ee the 
 young couple at once." he Mid. 
 
 inJ,^"" ""'* '"'^' '"'" '"« '""dtady replied, lead- 
 ing the way to a back door. 
 
 hn^^'J?"" '■°°."' •" '°""'* ">"». *""»« for the 
 &S^»K r™ ''"''• '"" ""-"t-'ookingVoom 
 
 . £Xnr' ""• *"• "•" "''«^' "^« ^- "<« 
 
 a young preacher .. not ordained until he has been 
 
 P«no"n this marriage ceremony." 
 
 The lass was ready to cry with vexation "Mv 
 
 .reSr'^°"-''=''^"''^"-"'^o'-^^" 
 
 hJ^J?' "°'" '"'' '^°"*"' "'*" ■"« ">'■'' : Where 
 doe, the nearest minister or justice of the peace 
 l.ve. any one who has the power to marry ,on!s " 
 
 PrJu c T ""' ""*"" ""•" """'" " °W Local 
 Preacher Salmon," replied the girl. "He some- 
 
"K»ocofr tisoiurnN ret chait 
 
 (ANSI o„d ISO TEST CMABT No. 2) 
 
 APPLIED IM^GE In^ 
 
 ^M^ '6S:i Eoit Uoln Street 
 
 P^ m^VlVi ''VJ^'^ '*609 USA 
 BP^^B {''6) *S2 - 0300 - Phone 
 'Srrs t^'6) 288 - 5989 - Fo. 
 
i8o 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 times mames couples; but-but I had sft my 
 heart on having you." she pouted, charmingly. 
 
 you must swallow your disappointment," the 
 preacher answered. "The wedding must go on, 
 or there will be a scandal. I will go with Mr. 
 Foley and wake up the old man and get him here 
 
 Inf,^^".?""- /" "" "'^^"tim., say nothing 
 about the delay. Let the guests wait." 
 
 The two men drove to Salmon's cottage, called 
 h.m out of bed, and hurried him to the back door 
 of the Tavern. Every one was anxious for the 
 ceremony, and in a few moments the blushing 
 br.de and proud groom were made husband and 
 wife, and all the wedding guests sat down to a 
 heaped table. 
 
 Ronan slipped away as soon as possible; and 
 
 'IVd- "*^.^°'^' ''°'"' *°6*"'"- At the gate 
 the Mmty said: 
 
 n i?'"!' "I!,?." ^"""■''■'S I don't like at ould 
 Delhurst Whin I wuz there the last time, I saw 
 Barbara Lawson, an' she is that changed I hardly 
 knew her. Her round cheeks and bright eyes are 
 gone altogether. She looks broken, an' shuns 
 the people about her. She don't go anywhere 
 but to church an' I wuz tould 'at she gave up the 
 choir becuz she bruk out cryin' in the middle o' 
 he singin . I believe, Beverly, she is pinin' away, 
 fadm like the mist on the Kerry Hills. I 'm 
 afraid she am t long fer this world. Do ye know 
 anythin' about it? I dunno." And the man's 
 little eyes were seeking to read Beverly's face. 
 I do not, Barney. What you say is a surprise 
 
"The Minty" is Captured i8i 
 
 to me. Our engagement was broken off some 
 t.me ago, but she seemed to care very U.tle abo« 
 
 ^;rS:irr'^'''""-"-^--"''- 
 
 in Zl"' " ^O'J'e'hing wrong, Beverly; I feel it 
 
 tV f u ^. '' P"* °"" f°°' "'"^^ ">« other, an- 
 find out what .t is. That I will, or I niver saw the 
 gap o' Dunloe," said Foley. 
 
 erlv"'^"r''h " T^!"^ *.'°"«^ " ""•" '^P'i'd Bev- 
 \.^ \^^^ "** '*""■ '" •'" own writing." 
 I e have ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; I have." 
 
 itra"klrBlrn°e;." ^''''""' ''°"''' '' '^' •"« "« 
 "Yes," the preacher answered; "you are her 
 fnend and mine, and you may see it!^ It "cur 
 
 Itfs r^r* ""' T' °" °" '"''"^''''P completely, 
 in and J "^'"t' '"" ^'"'^^ ?*''"='' «•«• Come 
 into^theruse'- ^'"■— ' -d led the way 
 
 That's a leading question. Bar" ,. T will 
 
 earth T:"' -'l' '\' " °"' °' *•>* »«" of the 
 earth. Happy ,s he who has won her. She is too 
 
 from " r" "' ''''"' "''" " P--- I' -° 
 ,hrhH,!T" ."'"'''• ^"''"^'^ hand it was 
 a^h had . ■" T°.'''ehways of holiness. Her 
 
 touch He ;'"''' ""i: "'"" *'"'" " bishop's 
 touch. Her love, years before, had consecrated his 
 young hfe, Uke the precious oil poured on the 
 
1 82 
 
 A Modern Apollog 
 
 m 
 
 priest's head. "Too good for me," he repeated. 
 I am not worthy to touch the hem of her jrar- 
 ment." ® 
 
 "Thrue fer ye, Beverly. No man alive is 
 worthy of such a woman as Barbara Lawson. It 
 sometimes 'pears to me 'at the worst woman is 
 better 'an the best man; an' she is near to being 
 an angel. I dunno but she is one, strayed away 
 from heaven fer a little while; and' she's soon 
 gom back." 
 
 Ronan sighed and looked dejected, and his 
 visitor went on, "Beverly, would ye let me tell ye 
 a story, me boy, an' ye 'II not be vexed?" 
 
 "Certainly, go on. 
 
 "Well, onct upon a time, in the ould Dart 
 there wuz a priest who wuz a foine orator. 
 Throngs kem from fur an' near an' staid outdoors 
 all raght to hear him. It wuz like a fair, so it wuz, 
 to see the big crowds around, with the black gown 
 amongst 'em. 
 
 ^ "Onct he discoursed about high livin', an' tould 
 em to ate plain food. 'Stir-about,' he sez, 'an' 
 spuds an' herrin',' he sez, 'are good enough fer 
 yer poor, dyin' bodies, ye worms o' the dust, wid 
 a bit o' bacon an' a sup o' tay on the Sawbath,' 
 he sez. 
 
 "His landlady had cooked fer him a rich meal 
 of fowl an' puddin', but, hearing this sarment, she 
 thrun It all to the pigs in her shame, an' set only 
 oat-cake and milk afore him. 'Where,' he sez 
 ;is the fat dinner" he sez. In the sty,' she sez.' 
 I heard your sarment.' 'Mrs. Dufify,' he sez, 'when 
 ye went to a christenin' ye have seen the people 
 
"The Minty" is Captured 183 
 
 dandn', he sez. 'I have, sez she. 'Did ye ever 
 •w '•"' P'P", /""«?' he sez. 'I did not,' she sez. 
 Well then, Mrs. Duffy. I am the piper,' sez he 
 
 Now, Beverly; ye tell the folks to do right: 
 will ye not do right yerself wid Barbara ?" 
 
 "God forbid," said the minister, "that I should 
 wrong any one, least of all that gentle soul I" 
 
 Barney's keen eye had observed Ronan put- 
 ting the note back in hi, desk, and he noted where 
 he had pigeon-holed it. In a moment he asked 
 carelessly "Could ye give me a noggin' o' water 
 to drink, Bev? I 'm that dhry I can't spit." 
 
 Of course," said Ronan, and left the room to 
 procure the water. In a moment Barney had 
 transferred the note to his pocket, and had re- 
 turned the empty envelope to its place in the desk. 
 ..». . '.''^ pocketed the letter, he said to himself. 
 This IS a dirty Irish thrick fer ye, Barney Foley; 
 bUi Heaven will forgive ye if ye kin save that girl 
 irom an early grave." 
 
 In a few minutes he had said good-bye to 
 Konan, and was driving slowly back to the "Red 
 Horse. 
 
 "I wud dip me fut in the river o' death to 
 bring em together agin, an', by the grea' horn 
 spoon I 11 do It," he vowed, as he rode along the 
 turnpike at the witching hour of midnight 
 
 The lights in the toll-house were out, aiic' the 
 bar was raised. Millbank lay asleep. The crow- 
 ing of an untimely cock at a distant farm and the 
 babbling of the creek that threaded the gloomy 
 arch of the stone bridge were the only sounds 
 heard in the silence which night laid, like a moth- 
 
184 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 er-s^quiet palm, upon the brow of the dreaming 
 
 th, "^ k' T"" "'.'•^"•'^"'e P'"K» were plodding into 
 the shadows of the willows beyond the brook 
 
 bvth/r™" %?^i °"' ""'' ""e'" 'he horses' 
 by the rems. They did not shy or lunge; for they 
 
 ^tZTJTu-'' Z"' "-""' Edmunds^he hostl^ 
 at the Red Horse Tavern. 
 
 inthfrh-^T^ '°"''' 'P'*''' '^^ "■«■> were 
 I ""^^f '^''' dfaggoig him to the ground. He 
 showed fight as best he could, and kicked one of 
 his assailants m the face, hurling him to the earth 
 au. the man was up again, and, although bleeding 
 profusely, helped in beating "the Minty" into I 
 state of non-resistance. 
 
 "What does this mean, Larry," asked Barney 
 when permitted to speak. 
 
 '^\sk me no questions, an' I'll tell you no 
 lies," quoth the hostler, grimly. 
 
 Foley was gagged, bound hand and foot, and 
 thrown mto the carriage; and Larry turned the 
 span mto the uneven lane which led to the Cave 
 
 Hulls bhnd, the conveyance was stopped. Two 
 of the men got out, taking Barney with them; and 
 Larry drove back to the tavern. The next morn- 
 mg he told that Foley had returned about mid- 
 night and had turned over the team to him, saying 
 hat he mtended to walk into the city, and take a 
 train for his home in the West. Also, that he 
 had requested the hostler to ask the boss to pay 
 ins wages when he next met him in Delhurst 
 
"The Minty" is Captured ,85 
 
 heard the message; "but I guess he has kept sober 
 "e^ToLT"''- ^^•"-'«°°- •''-''- 
 
 hi. 1" 'll' """''">«■ Barney, blindfolded, and with 
 h. hands bound behind hin,, was led th ough the 
 ^1 timber to the domicile of the Negro. Lige 
 
 fYotoad" ""'.r ,!''•' """"S '°" °' "'"^- the two 
 footpads, with their victim, passed through the 
 barn into the chill, moist underworld 
 
 scenes'^ h"'"' ""l' *"' ""' "'"''^ subterrestrial 
 scenes by hearmg the men light torches, by the 
 echo of their voices, and by the sound of dripping 
 water as they walked over the naked, rocky floor 
 
 room !ff 1 "°' '"'" ""= *'■'''= P='"' '° 'he work- 
 room of the note-printers: but, turning to the 
 
 rfath'sT ""'" u '•='«'= °' 'P"' -"d followed 
 sinrie file "'tT \T '^'' ^'" °^''^'^ '° ^^^^ 
 
 ^fh . Hn "'7„^«f'«'' '' tremendous rotunda, 
 
 In the center of this rude arena a large pile 
 of rocks appeared, probably shaken from the roof 
 
 sfdeTfM" """'"J" " P"^' "e^- '^° 'he farther 
 s^e of this area they marched, and entered a 
 smaller room, where a light was glowing, and four 
 men were seated, smoking and playing cards. 
 
 "...hY" "•' °" """•" '^'^ °"^ °' 'he new arrivals ; 
 and here is our man." 
 
 A medley of shouts and greetings arose and 
 torches, which were placed upon a flat-topped 
 
i86 
 
 A MoQ.Tu Apolloi 
 
 oXTtVSirilt'r-- Hew., 
 bandit, settled W, fate '"' "°"'' '"'"« ">e 
 
 «'e." said M:l7wZta,'°o„'e'ortr''"'' 
 comers. "Who wants the job" ' ""' '"='^- 
 
 *as spoken. Evidently Z we e „I°' ' ^'^ 
 commit premeditated murdeT ' '""'^ "» 
 
 aviii^jXXr ''^'•° ""'«'<''''" «'- 
 I'mll.rer:n^[;;J-"''«^eetothat. 
 
 i<.-cke'j^'';h:rti;r3;Vd* ""^i ^.'■°'" «"-y "ad 
 
 Cap wants him" o'aTed a^ L' 1' •°'«"- ''"^ 
 « we do n't do it An- h'/., ' *^"" "' """es 
 
 now. what.:;„^".trh::r'''^'-"^-p'- 
 
 pause'^loZg'.^l l:^-£ "J^ ^°"!'"-<'- ^"cr a 
 chief; "tain-t more '„ fi I "," *'"' " ^andker- 
 Cap calls th?b°oto"m£';ifT"''V''^''°''= 
 water boilin' in it from here if ^e -1 ""k ^'" "" 
 jawin'. Let some one take th ^ '^;' "^ ^'^^ 
 an' put a bullet into hi. ti ^"^ '"'""^' W 
 that ere open n 'n 'sTh ' '"' '^' """ ■"'^ 
 be dead an' bured in . r "'*^' ^ '»y- "e'll 
 asked, consa™ h.^,"" ""^ "^''P' ""' "» -I-estions 
 
 "Will you do it?" asked Moulton. 
 
 5aw"'T ™f "" ''"^■'*'' "' 'bis 
 Naw, he sa.d, with a leer. "I kain't do it 
 
"The Minty" is Captured 187 
 
 . n!.T'"L 'V^ "" '"<'"■• sarcastically ; <%„«', 
 a pretty kettle of fish. A lot of operators wan! 
 . .h.ng done, and every one of them afraid to do 
 IJ." """"''" '° '" ''"y °"e of you .niv- 
 
 an-St'Sr""- '"'"■''''""'• "'-°"- 
 
 They all looked at one of the party, who had 
 
 been silent since the captured man hid been 
 
 bronght into the roon,. He was standX.'a"d 
 
 ^owed .r.?". "^ '"."" """' «'"' of 'he limps, 
 showed that he spoke with determination. 
 
 Good man, Forty-four!" ejaculated Moulton. 
 Look, you spaniels; one of our new men sets us 
 a I a lesson m boldness! Make the victim readv 
 at once and let this job be done; I aml^k oHt 
 nowl How will you finish him, Forty-four ?" he 
 asked^ tummg toward the volunteer. 
 
 I -11 .;lT '"°"^.'' ' °"' °' y°" '^"d >"« a pistol. 
 I II take h.m to the edge of the pit, put a bulle 
 through his brain, and shove him over u he 
 ready .for the leap? Lemme bite yer ubacker! 
 
 .J't-^^'f'" ^^'"^ ^"°"'"> """at we ought to rive 
 the fnendless devil a chance to look ar^ound o^L 
 
 and let h.m say h.s prayers on the border of eter- 
 
 Barneys eyes were unbound. He stared around 
 the somber crypt under the roots of the eternal 
 
1 88 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 hills, and sat in silence, so intense that he could 
 hear h>s burdened heart throbbing like a ,rir: 
 
 bTb;t:een th""- °""^'°""' '" ' -•"°" - 
 built between the granite ribs of the old globe 
 
 he felt that hi, last hour had come. Hope died 
 
 withm him as he looked about. 
 
 •tr,!""" /,"'""""'*" '"" •«"> found a soft 
 tratum of limestone between two hard strata had 
 s aked or dissolved it away, and left a e L of 
 Cyclopean rooms, ceiled with awful span/of or" 
 meval masonry. The stream, with hunger unsatH 
 had gone down through the crevices, and had fash- 
 oned another cavern below. The rocks rang hol- 
 low to the feet, and in some places, through the 
 opening,, rushing water could be heLrd 
 
 One gigantic stalactite, growing through the 
 
 thaM." TJ, ''' """'"*" '"'='' ""^O"' -eight 
 that It pulled Its stony root, loose, and, falliSe 
 crashed through the pavement into the cave S' 
 
 Ze"r^« '"^^f """" '° ''"P «•-« » blaring! wl: 
 paper, flung down its throat, died on the vision 
 and revealed no bottom to the abyss. 
 
 "M,-n, " "^"'"■'"^ "" "'^ '° ^ "'e careless-heart.- ' 
 
 Mmtys unmarked tomb. The poor felloV 
 
 scanned the faces of the cruel six, but all were 
 
 rngteT" '° "'- ^° We for a S 
 
 ti.e^^i^-,"-irSo!r^„;:;;''- 
 
 «inJr\''"'^ "''" "'"' ''"' nothing to be 
 gained by showing the white feather. He felt that 
 hehad .o die, and resolved to die like a brave 
 
"The Minty" ii Captured 189 
 
 „ .".Mwu" ' ''* P''^""-' ••« answered ; "but it •, 
 not tm th., time I Ve w,- d to ,ay thin, " 
 
 liver °.id°onT"" '"" "" "" • "* """"'" '° 
 "T is very likely," answered the wayfarer "1 
 ueLTn'^ °. '""'^' '" y" '■"-''^6°"" face,. An 
 I wnnM 1° ^"""''"'» "'ver went unhung; but 
 i would ask two favors." 
 
 .J.-'J""' ':;"'" "''' *'°""°n. who did not relish 
 the doomed mrn's bold accusations. 
 
 fer me"lif;'.'''";" '"''' ^°''^' "«'^' "^ •«"' » ^^anst 
 fer me 1 fe; untie me arrums, put a knife or some 
 weepon .n me hand, an' let the mongrel drove o' 
 
 They laughed mockingly at this defiance; and 
 Barney con mued: "If ye won't do that, ye craven- 
 hearted wolves, tell me why ye mane to destro^ 
 me. Sure, I niver harrumed one o' ye " 
 
 m.J°\Z'^V '" ^'- '^ey"^"'^ "lairs, my 
 man, sa.d Moulton "and he wants you out ,;f his 
 way There is a price on your head, and Number 
 Forty-four wants the shekels." 
 
 P„,?'°°k''"'"?"*>' *"' ""e"- Prasper him," repi.ed 
 Foley; but I suppose you must have y;r wHl o' 
 me; I am helplsss." ' 
 
 ,tra!fl/°"' r*? ^""^"^ "P°" 'hem, seeming 
 strangely prophetic as his face paled in the flicker 
 »"g glow. 
 
 "Men " he said, "I go to my grave this dav 
 done ,0 death by a h. 1 o' misguided mortals Mv' 
 at word IS this: I would rather be Barney Foley, 
 b^.n mangled on the rocks below, than one o' ye 
 Doomsday is comin'; remember!" ' 
 
»90 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 on'Se:."' '°" "'"""-""""T- exclaimed one 
 
 hatches." Then tur„!„„ . ^u ''* *""*■■ ''•'o* 
 
 BHndfoldcd, and with hi, h, h . *""'^' 
 hind hi, back.BarncT was ed , ?"""' ^- 
 
 watched the twain until they reaXd 2\ *". 
 
"The Minty" i, Captured ,9, 
 
 moit pitied him at he took ih. m„« . 
 
 ton. '"* """"V 'rom Moul- 
 
 thing I ever .ee." ' "" ""^ " «"/- 
 
 looLd into ," 0„1 theV r "i "" '""'"• ""«' 
 churning aga „st ^h-K m ""' '''"'''"8 °' *"'" 
 biaCn of ;:rn^: S-- t h«^"^^ 
 .eemed the jawning mouth of Sheol. '' 
 
 bya?ut'°^u.rs::/onr'°^'"-''°'"-- 
 
 o.he,!''r,''he' ca^rl-ZH" "" '°^ ""P''" «"<' »"• 
 well. «'-"-°"'ed a stone down the hideou 
 
 was abour,o7oVrr "*'?' '""*' '^"' ""^ 
 whentheIs::s"„"saM"'"™"'°^""'^^''««=. 
 
 after death" ^ •'° " "'«''"e in punishment 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A Stolen Letter 
 
 ON a morning in tlie picture-month, October, 
 Philip Ellis felt an irresistible desire to shoot 
 game, and, taking down the Colonel's double- 
 barreled shotgun, his powder-flask, and shot-belt, 
 he whistled up the pointer, Pluto, and set out to 
 seek a covey of quail, which the hired man had 
 told him were to be found in the upland stubble 
 above the milldam. 
 
 Several months had passed since Ellis had first 
 come to the Satterlee home, and still he staid, 
 more because Edith, who grieved about her father, 
 seemed to need him, than for any other reason. 
 
 The Major, too, had prolonged his visit, greatly 
 tu Philip's disgust; for the tender glances which 
 the older man cast at Edith were a vexation to the 
 Captain. A few days before, Philip had been 
 fretted more than usual by the Major's actions, 
 and had said to Edith : "You never drew that fellow 
 on, did you dear, by any encouragement? It is 
 plain that he worships you." 
 
 There was no guilt in her eyes, as she an- 
 swered : "I never did, Philip ; never. He has liked 
 me for years, but I have looked on him with in- 
 difference." 
 
 I9» 
 
A Stolen Letter igi 
 
 "Well, I can't blame him very much. You are 
 tovejy enough to turn any man's head." he re- 
 
 A smile was her only answer. 
 
 "I hope," continued Ellis, "that he will keep 
 out of my way. I do n't like his loafing about here 
 «o, hoi he exclaimed, in a kindlier mood "I 
 must not be domineering. He was here before I 
 was, and he can do no harm. Poor fellow!" he 
 
 I'uck"" ^^ '°°'' ^*"''' ^^"^' "^* " '" ^^-^ 
 And so the days had passed. The two men, 
 hving under the same roof, were merely civil to 
 each other. Both sympathized with the bereaved 
 girl; but the sympathy of one was sincere, while 
 that of the other was assumed and false. 
 
 As Ellis, with the shotgun over his' shoulder 
 climbed the long hill back of the great mills he 
 was thinking deeply. The day was a glorious one. 
 the air was like wine, and rarely had he so keenly 
 felt the joy of mere being. To live was a rapture • 
 simple existence an ecstasy. The red wine of some' 
 Olympian feast seemed spilled in riotous color 
 down every glen, creeping into every cove of the 
 hills, flushing every fold of the landscape. 
 
 The early frost had touched the foliage into 
 the autumnal splendor of purple, ruby, and ame- 
 thyst. The elms along the creek were robed in 
 chrome, the chestnuts in topaz, the beeches in 
 copper-green. The rock-maples were brave in 
 scarlet, the beeches swathed in buff, and the 
 sumachs held up their lighted torches along every 
 woodland dell. Moses' miracle of the burnin- 
 «3 
 
194 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 bush was seen everywhere; Midas had passed 
 through every yellowing copse, and, over all. the 
 lazulite heaven. 
 
 "A man can't be blue over twenty minutes on 
 such a day as this," said Ellis to himself, as he 
 plodded up the hill. 
 
 Gradually the hum of the factories grew fainter 
 When he had reached the summit, he looked back 
 over the valley, where the small houses of the poor 
 operators were huddled helplessly together, and 
 sighed, as he thought how the workers toiled, for 
 a pittance, in dust and heat, selling their frail Uves 
 by inches to keep body and soul from death's di- 
 vorce. How they went out, at the sound of the 
 bell at dawn, and dragged themselves home at 
 dusk from the great five-storied Babels, with their 
 smokmg stacks and chuffing steam-pipes. 
 
 His heart ached at the thought of the small 
 piecer-boys at the spinning-frames, working over- 
 time for a paltry wage— three dollars a week— 
 when they should have been swimming in the 
 creek, or shaking nuts from the boughs in the 
 beckoning woods. And, sadder still, were the pal- 
 id, weary lasses, barely chin-high to the crashing 
 looms, breathing vile fumes, and hearing foul 
 words flung through the ceaseless clang of the 
 lathes. 
 
 Below the mills the sluices were visible, vomit- 
 ing dye-water into the brooks, till no fish could 
 live in them, and no flower bloom on the rotting 
 banks. ° 
 
 "How do the poor creatures keep heart in 
 such a bitter struggle?" Ellis asked himself. "It 
 
 m 
 
A Stolea Letter j^^ 
 
 J« little better than a shambles where they ar^ 
 driven young and old, to slow de traction." The 
 thought maddened him. He knew that the chil- 
 li" 71"' '"'uPl'" " """ ''"'e'''"^ ^«'"«> that 
 leaped through the headgate, and that they came 
 out almost as sullied as the tail-race that crept 
 Jrom the vats to the creek. 
 
 Even at that hour, small-pox was spreading 
 among the tenements, and the doctors were busy 
 lialmg every one to compulsory vaccination. The 
 school was dosed by the breath of the plague, and 
 at Church, the Sunday before, the funeral services 
 
 wlr?^^ !' 7'"' ^"^^y ^y ""' "pestilence that 
 walketh m darkness," had been announced. 
 
 Thus, Elhs sat musing on life's burdens, heed- 
 less of the dog, who was quartering the field, and 
 peermg mto the grass and brambles for game 
 The young man did not see the vervain dancing 
 on the breeze, nor the walnuts turning to globes 
 of bronze on the high-spreading trees, nor the 
 chestnut-burs, half open for the North wind's kiss 
 At a farm near by, creaking wagons were bearing 
 apples-russet and red, bellflower and pippin- 
 to the groanmg cider-press near the barn; but 
 Whs was obhvious of it a", till he heard a call 
 and, turnmg, saw a man coming toward him, wad- 
 ing through the fading marigolds that flaunted 
 saucily on a piece of drained land, making it beau- 
 teous as a bit of ancient arras. 
 
 _ It was Beverly Ronan, buoyant and eager. 
 The two men had met some two months before 
 and had resumed the friendship begun in the 
 dreary prison at C . Often, in the little town 
 
'96 A Modern Apollos 
 
 hunter "It ^* ""^ "^^m^ "P to the 
 
 Why do you wish that?" Ellis asked 
 
 "Has he passed the crisis?" 
 
A Stolen Letter 
 
 •97 
 
 ;;You enjoy rare health, I see," said Ellis 
 1 do that, said Ronan. "The vears T .„.. . 
 
 m the blue overhead, and fell far afield 
 
 Look here, Ellis," he continued ;' and shook 
 
 lilZli:' "' '''- '"' ""= -'^ '-'' '-'''°' 
 
 Philip laughed, and said: "You are a vieorous 
 
 had your animal basis for bearing life's bu^ens 
 and meeting its em..,rgcncies." ""raens, 
 
 touched the,epe„P NootheTLrbit:M 
 'IJnl ^''"y,'''"?"^d their fellow-men, crying 
 
 tS The"v " M ""^ '""'' '='°-- -1 han'dled 
 co?,W • Jr ^ ?"''' "°' <^°'«''™inate him, but he 
 CO Jd v.tahze them. He ate with pubUcan , lodged 
 
 belm in a's 'at ' "." "' '°"'^ P'^"^' '^^ ^ ^""t 
 beam ,„ a stable, and came forth as unscathed." 
 
 You believe m enthusiasm, then?" said Ellis 
 oJru I ^"^'^ " ""^ •'^^P"' '«w of progress 
 "yot faith-intoxicated crusaders. Alas' it i, a 
 
 Once they said, imperiously, 'Send us an inspired 
 catd T' n' ^"^'^n^^'dly, 'Send us an 'edu- 
 cated man. Once they wanted only a man with 
 a message; and now. only the man with a c^ploml 
 
198 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 Once they desired the preacher to give them an 
 hour m a chariot of fire; now they prefer forty 
 minutes in an ice-wagon." 
 
 "Your spirit is delightful, Ronan. You warm 
 «ie cockles of a man's heart with your exuberance. 
 Your thoughts flash like that turmoil of swallows 
 around the chimney there." 
 
 "I hope so. Well, salaam, Ellis; I must be 
 gomg. Don't forget the birds for the sick boy. 
 Success to youl" and Ronan turned and walked 
 away. 
 
 "Good-day, parson," said the hunter, and he 
 watched the young preacher's athletic figure until 
 it was hidden by the brow of the hill, and then 
 turned to cut across the fields. 
 
 As he strolle'' ilong over the stubble, he was 
 saymg: "I can't remember when Nature has 
 seemed so fair. It is a day to breed life beneath 
 the mask of death. Even the hayricks seem fair 
 m the opalescent glow through which the bur- 
 mshed pigeons are wheeling." All the world was 
 very rosy to the Captain; but no wonder; he was 
 fathoms deep in love and all "the light that never 
 was on sea or land" threw its glamour over all the 
 scene. How wide is the spirit's range, when the 
 grand passion gives ^; wings ! All unplumed deeps, 
 all astronomic steeps, are within its tether. 
 
 He smiled, thinking fondly of Edith, and with 
 exalted resolution he girded up the loins of his 
 soul, saying: "I 'H win a high name for her dear 
 sake. What is worthiest in me, that will I do." 
 
 How chill the ocean of life would be without 
 the warm gulf-stream of love, with its tidal flow 
 
 m 
 
A Stolen Letter 199 
 
 and magnetic current, its zest and sparkle, its 
 freshness and sufficiency. 
 
 His good resolve made Ellis happier than be- 
 fore ; and he began to hum,— 
 
 " There '• nothing h«lf lo iweel in life 
 Aj lavt'i young dream," 
 
 Suddenly the position of the dog Pluto caught 
 his eye. The pointer was fixed beside a hollow, 
 overgrown with briers and vines, near a gap in a 
 mossy wall. 
 
 "What is it, Pluto? The quail?" asked the 
 Captam, as he' crept slowly to the rim of the bowl- 
 hke dip m the earth. It was a sinkhole, a peculiar 
 pit or cavity found in that region, underlaid with 
 limestone. Subterranean streams had slacked or 
 dissolved the soft stratum beneath, and the surface 
 watets had found natural drainage in these 
 trenches, to fall at last into caverns far below. 
 
 The hunter was disappointed, for no game was 
 found, and he roamed on. Soon, however, his 
 thoughts reverted to Edith. 
 
 "Lucky man am I," he said to himself. "Fate 
 seems to be trying to balance up my hapless 
 youth. I do n't wonder that Jacob's seven years 
 of servitude for Rachel seemed but a little while. 
 I wish I could serve for her, or do something to 
 show how much I care for her. O Edith, I will 
 be worthy of you ! Never man to woman gave 
 truer aflFection." And the Captain's thoughts wan- 
 dered on, he scarcely realized where. 
 
 "How gracious she is I how altogether perfect I 
 Her deep, gray eyes have every jeweled change 
 
*<" A Modern Apolloi 
 
 as they mirror her pure thouirhf. w.. t 
 hair su„H. or .haded'how Z^^ , ^ow'^'^; 
 her tremulous mouth, revealing in it, tender cuZ 
 her womanly sensibilities! What ^J. i!. u 
 walk I how lightsome her poise I" ^ " *■" 
 
 spor^man!"l''' "'"'' '"'''''"'^- "^ »■" » witless 
 sportsman; I am a good imitation of a lovesick 
 youth. I can not think of my hunting, or of my 
 |eI<J-only of her." And he quoted from LoclsT^; 
 
 "Lot. took up the hup of Ufe, 
 Smoie on M a, choid. „Uh might i 
 a»t. the chord of Self, which, (rentbUnt 
 "Med in Music, out of tight." 
 
 "That's it, exactly, O poet I" he cried. "Self 
 *es o sweet music when Love masterslife " 
 
 Elhs was nearing a small, limpid brook bor- 
 dered with brambles and dwarf tre« th!, 1 
 
 the do '■"' ""> °" "'"''■ '''""y 'here!" C 
 l^tht^.7" f^''"""^ ''" =" hrush-pile, fringed 
 w th goldenrod, near a group of slender b,"ches 
 
 SurtUIIVulr^"''''-''*^"-"''^^-"^ 
 
 "thS;^r:x:si^r:s 
 
 "P .nto the air, and was out of fange beforTfhe 
 
A Stolen Letter 201 
 
 •way, .eetnmg to ,ay, m canine dialect, "You are 
 
 the very worst I" »"u are 
 
 On the other side of the stream, just above the 
 
 place where the braided brooks came tog^r Jo 
 
 yard ahTdeV^' ?",'"""' ^"'' '°""'' -'"'^^^i- 
 yird, shaded by leafy buttonwood-trees. It wL 
 
 a charmmg spot. Below him the broad watTr" 
 
 slept, m crinkled azure, from shore to shore Two 
 
 boys, upon a raft, were at play, making believe 
 
 hey were m the Far West, upon an unfrfquen ed 
 
 lake pursued by hostile red foes; and over the 
 
 s^fet o7w .°' ''M,™ "" """^ PO-'O- - clea 
 
 ner ,h . .t ' ?"'' '"""='' " ^ind'^haken ban- 
 
 Ar™, H .T"*" *'"' "'* '■''^*""» °f 'he sun. 
 
 the thicket came the kinebells. as the herd went 
 down the h„,, 3i„„^ ,^ ^^.^^ ^^^ browse, t 
 the open a quag made a home for muskrats, whose 
 corneal habitations were hid in calamus aJ cat! 
 
 sirahlt' "'!"' ''PP"'""y •'""ted. oflFered a de- 
 sirable restmg-space. and the Captain had soon 
 taken possession of a rude seat near by, and had 
 
 his redfintf^ "'-'"^ ''°'" '^' ^^•"- w'th 
 
 itopTte; rgr""^ '"^ ^'"^^ '-'- 
 pHi;;i?;:^;i:n^:^i::[-^-:-"- 
 
«« A Modern Apolloi 
 
 "Come, come, man I Do n't be grumpy. Let'i 
 lave t civil chat," .aid Marley. ^^ 
 
 ♦l,..'^" ."«'"',"' '*°*"'" •"•wered Philip, who felt 
 WnV ^'u''"''''! ■" '"'S*^'"*- ""d «ho wa. 
 torn by h.5 loss, no doubt; while I posses, the 
 best woman >„ the world." He half pitied the 
 other for losmg such a treasure 
 
 mJ!"!* ^a'V' "' ^"*' *" " ''«""'• ""amiable 
 mortal and, face to face with one whom he envied 
 seemed more unmanly than usual. 
 
 "Ellis," he said slowly, "you hate me." 
 No," replied Philip; "I can't sav that. I want 
 no dealmg, with you; but I don't hate you. Do 
 
 u, both" ""' " '°°'" '"°''«'' °" ""•' '°' 
 
 "Well, I hate you. with a perfect hatred," as- 
 smed the Major, with a vindinive light in his eye. 
 Vou have treated me like dirt; but there will be 
 a reckoning, and his hardened features were over- 
 spread with a cruel leer. 
 
 Thoughts of the radiant household mate he had 
 won softened Ellis, and he replied, calmly 
 
 H.^Ih ? T,?'^ y^^} ^° y°" "° «°°<"' Parley. 
 Ha red is folly; ,t impoverishes the soul. Lov- 
 enriches it like a feast." 
 
 "You feel rich, then!" exclaimed Marley, with 
 a laugh that had no music in it. "Your snirits 
 are high." 
 
 "Higher than a cat's back; and Croesus had 
 only a handful of shinplasters, compared with me " 
 answered Ellis, laughing with the wine of the 
 strong joy that filled him. 
 
A Stolen Letter 203 
 
 ^j: Torrvcr .„d . day.' and then .ome." ..id 
 
 The Major's face wa. a sorrow ;l study. !„- 
 im^r P'"'°" *" K'o^cd there, together J.l. 
 an Ill-natured man-a man who could let a 
 
 and harbor envy in unlaced excess. He was cen 
 sonous cynical, toward every one, and The root 
 
 or:::LzXjr""- "^■"°-" ""■-»«''• 
 
 "The lunbonu clup the evth. 
 The moonbamf Uu Oie m*| 
 Bot what ere >I| thn, kiue. worth. 
 If thou kiss not me?** 
 
 If this man loses, none must win; if hi« mine 
 pnches, none must produce ore; if his bookTan! 
 .t.II-born. none must sell; if his love proves false 
 
 ^ZZl^n- M:'^ "'"" '="■' - '^" -"' 
 
 ,-, .? n • " '"' '""'■ "'•= P"»°"=" P'^-no"" "I" 
 IS a promment as the flagpole in the plaza of a 
 ru al town, and repeated monotonously as the 
 palings on a picket-fence. 
 
 ElliltkeT "m^'T '"'"' '°' " '"°'"«="'= 'hen 
 Wl^ asked. Why do you threaten me, Marley' 
 
 The woman was fairly won." ^ 
 
 "Beware I she is not yours yet, Ellis. 'There 's 
 Marfey! " ~'°" '"°" *"' '"'' '"'"Se." replied 
 
«H 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 Philip broke into ■ hearty taueh, and th.. 
 hummed .oftly Leigh Hunf. balUii 
 
 Then he rose, .aying: "Comrade. I •ympathiie 
 ing her "i L';' 'T' "'^ ' '°" Edi.h.'aft^'^ 
 hid h ; !, ""■'" "*"" ''«'' born; yet, i( thi. 
 had befallen I would have tried to ^a 
 
 row that brmg, out a man', ,n,e mettle. Come 
 Here a moment, if you please " 
 
 Marley, with an evil .mile, followed him to the 
 .dge of the stream. There. Philip pulled out by 
 the root, a small plant, which had a bright Lid 
 
 "WhetTh " *" ''^■■" • ^'"^"' •=""" *«^- 
 ,7"" the waves of adversity go over the 
 
 Deauty, If It be smccre and noble " 
 I .hln ''° '•''y^" "Claimed the Major. "Then 
 I shall see how you shine in the deep Waters." anS 
 he drew a paper from his pocket, asking suaveW 
 Do you really think that Edith loves you?" 
 
 "Beyond a doubt I" 
 
 "And you love her?" 
 
A Stolen Letter jqj 
 
 Go on." 
 meet . man X c^L '!u"°"'^ *"P««''- "d 
 
 with ,I.crily."' ""' "• °"" ■"*" "«"<'«'» " over 
 wor5.1' °' ""''"•'• ™'> '"«« th. following 
 
 "HAnoi.D.' 
 
 ffo to Edith Satterlee LrfJ.l , J'" -''°'' '° 
 Show her the note and lef her H "L" " ''"'• 
 ceived it, and kenf , * ""'"^ "'^' 'lie '«■ 
 
 shecontrad2s™r;:[r^''^^''''-'°'<'- " 
 
 t'on.hatone.anVnXT„X.?"^'^"'''"- 
 
2o6 A Modern Apollos 
 
 of thi' '^ T^'' l""^ ""^^"^ '"'^y '" "><= direction 
 of the Satterlee home. His whole sky had grown 
 dark; and yet he could not believe that Editrw"" 
 untrue. He recalled the conversation in whichZ 
 had denied encouraging the Major. Surely she 
 could not seem so innocent, and still be deceitful. 
 
 til !, "TP'''"' '""^^'y "= >>«= threaded 
 
 the rusthng cornfield, and fired a harmless shot 
 at^a crow, wh.ch cawed mockingly at him from a 
 
 EdifJ^H-"" ^r-.^' """"''"^ *«""«• ""d found 
 
 Thh ^ ^'^'^^ "'°"«^'"' ""=='" ^"'^h « ^«rene face, 
 ^dened by the loss of her father, be a cover for 
 
 He drew the note from his pocket, and laid it 
 on her lap saymg, "Look at that, darling, and tell 
 me if you have ever seen it before " 
 
 sheet shook in her hand like an aspen leaf 
 Is It yours ?" he asked. 
 
 audibTr " " "'"''" ''■' '"""'"• '""°^' '"- 
 
 l?'}!/,?" ''"'y '^"'^^ 't some weeks ago'" 
 I did. " 
 
 _ "Did you meet a man, unknown to me, at mid- 
 night in this place?" he went on, relentle;sly 
 A strange, hunted expression of entreaty came 
 %n"i^"' " '^' '"'<'' '" ^ ''^y whisper, "Yes " 
 her as she gave that answer. He little knew why 
 
A Stolen Letter 
 
 207 
 
 • ''"""*''« "° attempt to explain. His fiery blood 
 was up: -Was she two-faced-was she a beauUfu] 
 kIk >t seemed. Jealousy leaped in him. and 
 Edith, reading the terrible look on his face, said 
 not a word Slowly she drew her engagement 
 ring from her finger, and gave it to him. He 
 flung It on the earth, and crushed it with his heel 
 His resentment shook him with volcanic ire, and 
 
 "iZ ' /°'" "'"""'"^^ '" "" indignation: 
 I have poured out my heart's Ubation on a double- 
 dealing jade 1 O Edith I may you never know my 
 anguish I Farewell!" and he turned and walked 
 quickly toward the house. 
 
 While he was speaking, Edith sat speechless 
 m an ague of dread. Never had she seen him thus. 
 Bu when he was hidden by the shrubbery she 
 realized what he had meant, and she knew that 
 he was going from her-going forever, and she 
 dared not tell him the truth. 
 
 i.Jl" ^«^f""' f?« « M contorted with suffer- 
 ing, as she buried it in her arms, and sobbed out 
 her grief on the rough table of the summer-house. 
 She heard the carriage driving down the avenue 
 
 t!!i^^V°"'^i^. """ "'y- ""'• '^^ knew, without' 
 lookmg, that Philip was gone. Gonel-the word 
 rang in her ears again and again. And she was 
 powerless to call him back 1 
 
 Philip had packed up his belongings, driven 
 
 o the nearest railway station, and bolrded a tral^ 
 
 for the city. From there he went .0 New YorL" 
 
 and soon after to Chicago, which was then attract- 
 
 ^g young men as the coming city of the great 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Sinner McLaw Speaks 
 
 QINNER McLAW sat in his chair before the 
 VJ crackhng wood fire in his house. He heard 
 
 mg of the fitful gust clamoring at the casement. 
 He was ga«„g mto the flickering flame, waiting 
 the arrival of Dr. Deynell, who had business rela- 
 tions «-,th him though he was too canny to risk 
 much with such an eel-like customer. As the blaze 
 flared up, « showed the smooth-shaven features 
 
 ^iLt ' "'="'"""6 f^"". full of asperity and 
 mirthless penetration. The outline was long, the 
 temples sunken, the eyes of steel blue, which could 
 
 the hair light brown and scanty. Usually the 
 mouth was closely set, and two horizontal wrinkles 
 crossed his projecting forehead. His baptismal 
 name was Ezra, but all the country side called him 
 by the nickname, "Sinner." He knew this fact, 
 and gloried m it, often repeating it to himself 
 There were but two things in the world he loved- 
 his daughter and his money. Rumor had it that 
 he cared nothing for the esteem of his neighbors, 
 but was legally honest, in his beetle-headed fash- 
 ion. The current creed concerning him, was that 
 he suckled snow for mother's milk, and his heart 
 
 ii 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaks 209 
 
 was a mere anatomical organ, necessarv tn .,• 
 covetous life necessary to his 
 
 nim m either Hirci-tJ^n t . passed 
 
 jng and bold in business ventures An ,ki 
 
 ;=tr;;trr,iLr^'^r--- 
 
 The luxurv of H • """ *° """■" "^"'iows. 
 
 "fiut I •* n ^' "'"'' '° '"y- ''""^hing incontinently 
 
 , =.""7 appeal to his better self Hp ^«.,ij 
 
 yThe'^e'r w'r -^'"'^'''■^ °" hf posts o. 
 t'ransactL ''""""^•' ""= '^'^ '" -^ business' 
 
 is wMmed " ""'"''"^ ''^ "'^ -""". ">e other 
 
 "Go":dSwr.r"l° '"^ "'^'^ ^°""^ -'-. 
 
 ^o. sen all , to the nch centurion "I hav,- „„f 
 «en such faith in Israel." One h:'a;ded hTs opu 
 
*»o A Modern ApoUog 
 
 Itr^ "1* °"'*'- "*ated it. A grievous curse i, 
 selfish riches, either of the wallet or the brl 
 
 When Bums, the intellectual Crcesus, came to 
 an .n„ by day, the farmers left the plow mi"field 
 to hear h.m talk At midnight on his arrival the 
 
 speech. Among .rholars and statesmen his intel- 
 
 «1 T "f. " '""P """"^ rushlights; yet Carlyle 
 calls h.m "a steed of the sun hitched to an ale! 
 wagon" His intellectual wealth puUed him into 
 
 Z on ' ^r^T.''"'"'"'"^ °P"'-« •'"S™" at- 
 y on most. The elect few know how to use it 
 to the cheer and comfort of many 
 
 McLaw, with his instinct for heaping up riches 
 apparently had not learned the boundless power 
 of money m domg good. Such men unwittingly 
 create dass hatred, and endanger the social order 
 
 A.. ir^lTr ""' '"' •" '*''^' "H°«' are you to- 
 day Mr. McLaw?" He purled smoothly, laying 
 aside his glossy hat. ^ "^ 
 
 "Tolerable," grunted the farmer, nippingly. 
 
 Law T^ "",1 '". r"^"-'"^' ^""P°^al to Mc- 
 Law. The width of the sky separated their minds 
 He cared nothing for money, save as it became 
 the escutcheon of his egoism, but drank deep and 
 scattered wide. The finest carriage drawn b/met 
 est nnV?r'r?>r'°^'""' ''"P°"^'' ^-«. 'he high- 
 fa s ex /' '"'' ^°''''^' '""^ Paris ties, met 
 Ins extravagant desires. 
 
 The herdsman usually wore a scrubby beard 
 
 ever in Tkk' l'^'' ""'' ""''' '""^'^ '^■'"•'es were 
 7Zr, f \^ *"'P'''^- "''^ ^"'« «'as. "Let the 
 other fellow do the talking." 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaks 
 
 211 
 
 Knowing ihat McLaw was a leading stock- 
 
 S/'V" '"""^ """• '^'^^ physician was a 
 fearless financer, and loved to take great r.sks 
 enjoyed walk.ng on the edge of the precipice He 
 
 wher n !.° ^^' '^"^"'' °" •'^'""'^ in the West 
 where he had no funds, and wire money nLrdav 
 o meet the cheque, which went by mail and keen 
 
 irpe;i;^fi^^:r— --"S 
 !e^'"'-iftjg=;^r^irn- 
 
 nrryV"' they all report weekly tr^hH^e 
 
 ;;Makmg money eh?" said the fiock-master. 
 
 Hand over fist," purred the leech. "Here are 
 
 the reports for last week from each one «^th 
 
 cheque for receipts appended. Look them 'ov" " 
 
 The returns for the week were enormous and 
 
 he granger's eyes glinted. He did not know that 
 
 the a.ch plotter had sent to each branch Iney 
 
 he had borrowed m the central city from M-Law's 
 
 bank, to be dulv returned as loca/receiptrfo^rThe 
 
212 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 ™,^ J^ ' '"'""' °" 'hat first loan vou 
 
 T^'Z{^:^~'-'''' "" -'• Thi«Hwo"hr 
 
 neil said, with an ingenuous grin that seemeH Hi. 
 associated with any sinister p^rt, "How Is Ro 
 nan coming on now?" "ow is Ko- 
 
 ms daughter, but was, as always, slow-spoken and 
 
 non-committal Th. ,_ "F^Kcn ana 
 
 iimitiai. the answer was pumoed out 
 
 drawlingly, word by word: P""Pea out 
 
 "Fairly well, I think. He is a strong preacher 
 
 The people appear to like him." P™a<:''er. 
 
 The doctor had told McLaw about Beverlv's 
 
 pnson-hfe; and the ruralist was sore pu zled abou 
 
 h.Wuty to his child; but he said nothing to hU 
 
 r.v^ WMi'u"* desultory talk, the leader of the 
 Cave Hill brigands went out, saying, with a Z- 
 tense o heartiness: "Good-bye, M^^Tuw C, 
 association in business will be profitabfe Tor us 
 
 That evening Ronan called, and "Sinner" 
 greeted him cordially. "Have a seat »iS f 
 awhile, parson." ^' ^"^ ''^^ 
 
 Mr.' Mcltr' ' "'"■ ' ™"' '° '^"^ -'" y°". 
 
 closy^fgelS'™" ■'' *'"' ^"-^ •"" ^°" --1' 
 
 ills 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaks 
 
 his s mole wav Ti, c .Z '" "'^' '" 
 
 "burn"; 'r t^ Sk '=°""'""^'' "^^ p-'-.- 
 
 ■^ .. , . ^^" '" securing the vaccin,. 
 
 "thZot? ' ''^k'' ''^ "'^ ''^''■" '""'"e'i Beverly 
 the mother sobbed and the father raved the child 
 looking at me piteously out of his hollow e„' 
 me itr'r"' '?''"=^'""^''err said the man -See 
 "arline ' ^TT-'J''" "'^^^' ^'^^^hteredl Po" 
 
 sctiLu^ -Xiinv^rr"'- ""' •'^■ 
 
 poisons me only chiMl'VlU^btrvr:^^^ 
 filth from some human beast I An' now he 's dv- 
 ■ng. and h,s mother heartbroken the day ■ In vafn 
 I endeavored to calm him. 'Curse the fawl B^ s" 
 
"4 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 ngtit to live. Curses double-dyed and hell-deeo 
 fall on ,t an- all .he damnable wrong oftl ? 
 
 vvy"e. I pleaded, 'don't rave so.' 'I ain't ravin' 
 
 ™:s^s-C'-f 
 £H!rt:i-c!if^;ter't 
 
 a roL, s.elet:^n Kstoth^er' and^ "''l;'^ T. 
 
 X":Xu%l 'f °" '"^ «°- anTwaifed'l L 
 
 was. O. If he d only bm drownded in the dam 
 
 b cTefnf "^J"' ?f t ''" """' "" «"" -">" 
 a^n us?" •"ack-hearted lawl It is 
 
 could not do so without self-praise, and preferred 
 
 hand Y ^'u"*"""' '"J""«'°"' "Let no^ thyleft 
 hand know what thy right hand doeth." When 
 the macmn.st, Wylie, hurled his half-insanr^ 
 precahons at the law of the village, he wa! Z 
 on y m deep anguish because of hfs chi d'Tdea" h 
 but was suffering the depression of povertv 
 th ough lack of work. On last pay-day Ws e„- 
 ve ope passed out through the office-wLdow of 
 
 weeks ■:°"Tr?'"^ '°'"'"'- '""' '"=" -» f- 
 weeks ago. The storekeeper, who usually allowed 
 
 the employees a liberal credit, seeing no'^prospect 
 
 i!ia.i< 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaks 
 
 2'S 
 
 of payment, had refused to aell hi. ..r^^. 
 but a cash basis, which wa" 'the on'/X t^s^^' 
 h.s financial bark from shipwreck. He we 1 knew 
 
 at'T^had^'^r •'"''' °'°P-''--"'^ 
 iad%th-nV. ' p^; Zr^!- '^"""= '"^^ 
 Hon„t. hutlere b^ Char JSu^sUncr '^ 
 
 in the W r'^f '"'" "■" "'"« "''» "°t a dollar 
 n the Wyhe house, and that the family had lived 
 
 [oUrat:::d'f°" ""'T' "" '-'P'which h 
 good-natured farmers had allowed them to take 
 for some labor given in gathering the crop 
 
 Bitterer than the fiercest pang of Lawine 
 
 and Wyhe knew that his unfortunate Jd wroS 
 
 ties m a grave m the potter's field. This Ronan 
 
 re" olr'V""' " P""""'- «* ><"- thaf ^d" 
 had 1^ L '"°"''- *°"'^ *" ^P"™'"' =>» their need 
 who H "'""o"*'!. It i. ever true that those 
 
 worthv"fiTr ,tM"*'"J" ""="«• -""e the ■: 
 worthy fill, with then beseeching clamor, every 
 gateway to possible assistance ^ 
 
 of Eta"Tnd°b •"' "'^''' " "^"P^ °' "■' "E»»ys 
 
 Which was an ofdlS^^'edir hf ^ ot^ 
 wh her": "?' °' '"^ author-Charles lamb-- 
 but hi /, ""'"^"Ph o-- "ot, he couM .iot aver- 
 
 of h. H l!:"""!^ '° ^"^ "'^ '"ff"^-- the benefit' 
 of the doubt, and secure it 
 
 heiS;:r'''°"^^'""^''°°''--^-WyU.r 
 
2'6 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 !.,„ ^'1,!'*!°"**'' '° "y K^'ndfa.her, and my father 
 
 nt? '° ^"""''y. was the answer. 
 Did he bring many books ?" asked Ronan 
 No, sir He was a poor man, but tried to have 
 .few good book, about him. He always sau" 
 was the easiest way to get into the best society " 
 Do you care much for this one ?" 
 
 ,J'^°,' '•'■'' ' "" '^"y '° '^y I '"<> very little, 
 and wife .s too tuckered out and tired to read at 
 all. More s the pity I" 
 
 "Will you sell this book to me?" 
 
 "No, sir; I'll not do that, but I'll give it to 
 
 you. It ,s worth about twenty-five cenS, I .u^ 
 
 pose, at the old dealers." . ' "p- 
 
 "You are much mistaken, Mr. Wylie. It has 
 
 he name of dear old Charles Lamb in it, written 
 
 long ago, probably by the author. I think it is 
 
 an autograph copy, and has considerable con ner- 
 
 cial value. Lamb's autographs are scarce, and I 
 
 want this one. Will you take twenty dollars for 
 
 It r Beverly asked. 
 
 "'!,?' ''?^'• . '"^ ""^ "'i"h»"d in astonishment. 
 I think It IS," retorted Ronan. "At any rate, 
 
 thaTpr"""^ '° ''''"'^' "• ' =*" ■' " ""^-n "' 
 
 wIm" '""""' **"= <^'"gy"'an suspiciously. 
 Was this man trying to give him charity indirectly ? 
 But Ronan s face was guileless and serene. In 
 fact, he seemed to be rejoiced at the find, and was 
 already in the first stage of the charming fre^y 
 of a triumphant bibliomaniac. He was fondling 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaks 
 
 217 
 
 the volume and .canning the writing a. if it made 
 len^K*" A \''"''.«'°'"- holdinff it out at arm".- 
 length and chuckhng luietly, as he murmured: 
 Sweet old, stuttering optimist I How we all love 
 you, Charles Lamb I" 
 
 "Of co-.rse," said the impoverished weaver, "if 
 t i. worth that to you, I 'II take it. I will be only 
 too glad If that old, battered book should prove 
 such a pnze. 
 
 Beverly smiled, as if saying, "How little you 
 know I and handed him twenty dollars. "Here is 
 your money," he said. 
 
 Wylie took it with a great gladness; for it 
 saved his child's corpse from the hated public 
 plot m the cemetery, and would give him a befit- 
 ting bunal. 
 
 His voice trembled, as he asked, "Will you 
 bnng It back and get your money if it is not a real 
 signature ?" 
 
 "No, sir, never 1 I am no Indian buyer, to pur- 
 chase to-day and rue to-morrow. I am quite sure 
 It IS authentic. At any rate, take a long look at it, 
 Wyhe; you will never see it again. It is mine;" 
 and he hugged it to his breast as he went out. 
 
 When the dominie had told the tale, omitting 
 his purchase of the book, McLaw sat moveless, 
 and said, "It is an unusual case." 
 
 "Unusual only in its sickness, not in its pov- 
 erty. A liking for daily bread is not unusual. 
 And now," said Ronan, "I have a request to make. 
 Since the plague closed the mills, the people are 
 suffering. Winter is coming on, and they need 
 food and clothing. You are rich, and your har- 
 
3l8 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 ve.t. .re .bandant. I want you to let me haul 
 to them, in your wagon, to-morrow, enough po- 
 tatoe., corn, turnip., and apples to .upply the 
 neediest families; and I want%o say fr^om' you 
 that they may go into your woods and cut fuel 
 enough to keep them from freezing next winter. 
 What do you say Ezra? Say yes. Open your 
 heart, and be a prince." 
 
 The farmer was shrinking into himself. In • 
 mmatory tone he retorted, emphatically: "No, sir 
 I can t do any such thing." 
 
 Ronan's soul flamed at the inhuman callous- 
 ness m his mscrutable face, which seemed Uke a 
 leather mask. 
 
 "Why not, Mr. McLaw?" 
 
 f„«,!^v ' ' ^7 1""' """' "•«" "y «»" '» tw» 
 
 township, and the poor get it when they apply 
 for county aid, and for other reasons. I' r^- 
 gm this charity work, there is no end to it. I did 
 not bnng this people into the world or into desti- 
 tWion, and I am not responsible for their dis- 
 
 This long speech exhausted "Sinner." and the 
 mettlesome Beverly broke out a^in- 
 
 "You have more than eno.i„h, and some to 
 
 T"u 7 f "'' ■"" '^""'"' "°P'' ""d you are 
 now beyond all possibility of want." 
 
 "What I possess is mine," said McLaw, dog- 
 gedly, m a slow, unmodulated voice "What I 
 have I -11 hold. It is mine, to do as I will with it " 
 Yours, sir?" Beverly was on his feet now, 
 towering over the farmer wrathfully. "Yours' 
 Where did you get these crops? Did you mix the 
 
 :ll 
 
Sinner McLaw Speaki 319 
 
 element, of the .oil? Did you roll the clourt- 
 wagon, from the .ea bearing the rain.? Did you 
 pucker up your mouth and blow the winds that 
 ch?,^!.^ ^^Z *''"'• ^"^ y°" ''"'' 'he blazing 
 
 it? Your.? v"" "" •"' "^ ""^ "'y '° "P- 
 M You are a narrow, un—" 
 
 McLaw leaped up, foaming with rage. "Do 
 
 you hector me in my own hou.e, .ir? Deynell 
 
 »»y« you are only a convic« not long out of the 
 
 pemtenuary. I'll .hank you to know your place 
 
 When addrcmg an honorable man who never 
 
 wore a convict', .tripe.." 
 
 ,J'V'^*°'..P°^°^y'" '*°"*" "'Ort'd, ignoring 
 
 treadtT; T ?""" ^"'' " '"« " Neme.i! 
 tread, the track of guilt, your craftine.. .hall not 
 
 ra.ing hi, hand a. if invoking judgment. "God 
 will .mite you, thou cinder of hi- .an .lag I" 
 
 hi. kT" .!','''"=''•''• " " ">« *°^<". .eared 
 
 J.., eyeball,. "Leave thi, house!" he roared 
 
 and never enter it again, you impudent jailbird I 
 
 Go^and kennel with the .crubby cur. you love ,0 
 
 Ronan forgot all rea.on and duty. a. he 
 straightened up. with the cry: "You heartless 
 
 SofM l'' '"r" "" "«'' «'' '''°' '"" '" 
 Jace of McLaw. who went down like a log Fall- 
 ing, he caught the table-cloth, and pulled it from 
 ts place, and the lamp crushed upon him. As a 
 servant rushed in. Ronan took hi, hat, and passed 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 An Outlaw's Death 
 
 ruffled emohons. A storm was coming over the 
 western horizon's rim, growhng and^om^ous 
 
 2\A T °' "'^ "'" P'"''"''' °n W™ as he 
 reached h.s boarding-place. Brad Baldwin and his 
 wife had gone to visit a married daughter in the 
 city, and left the house to him for a f ew Ss tL 
 
 host, and he sat down at the cottage organ in th! 
 ^I'^l '" ''' ^'°'°- '-""« «- - th:"oJgh' 
 A listener would have learned that he was fol- 
 lowing the music of the outside tempest with his 
 harmony The lightning slashed its saber th ough 
 he scudding clouds, slicing them into masses of 
 inky ribbons, dyed with electric flame. The thun- 
 der growled among the hills; then suddenly burst 
 lar'th' Th ""'''^,'=™' "'" '=°*«d the shuddering 
 
 the choked eave-troughs ran cataracts at every 
 angle of the square building. With no light but 
 the lurid flashes of the levin, he poured Ws so. 
 
An Otulaw's Death 
 
 221 
 
 ti;e 
 
 •trument, ceasing not 
 
 through the 'eetls of 
 till the rain i;>a.«vd. 
 
 A knock v,a. h;v.d at the door, which h^ 
 
 wondenngly opened. Laura McLaw wraooed in 
 
 a waterproof cloak, entered, and saTd "^"^ " 
 
 Don t be alarmed. I am out at midnight be- 
 
 cau^se I know all about your quarrel with my fa- 
 
 '•What brings you here, Uura?" 
 To tell you that you must leave Millbank " 
 tostltrhifc'h:^ir?''-^''-"-eslre 
 
 "I W.11 depart speedily, if you will go with me." 
 I W.11 go to any land with you. Beverly." 
 1 hen make ready, and we will fly together 
 How much t.me do you need to make prCa-' 
 
 can'g°"»^ °'"' '^^' *'""''^- To-morrow night I 
 "Very well. Meet me at the blue gate near 
 your father's barn at midnight. Be prompt, mv 
 love and we wll soon be far from trouble." ' 
 thr r ^Tt"'"' ^y" outshone the jewels at her 
 throat, and he saw the adventure was greatly to 
 her hkmg. Eagerly she said: ^ 
 
 it Jti ml r' """^ '"°""' °' "^ °^"- Sh''" r take 
 pori'us." "" "''' ""'' '■' "'" ^ """ ^-'^ t° -P- 
 
 tin,7 n*';''^'- ^ **" *•" ">"» ^' the appointed 
 time. Only one day to wait. Then we ™^1 have 
 
233 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 each other and all the world before us." He 
 
 out" da'rL"'""''' """ """^""^ "" «° '"'" 'he 
 
 As he sat, an hour later, brooding on the past, 
 
 he heard the thud of galloping hoofs coming up 
 
 hLTTt f ''""^ "'~"«^'' 'f«= -"''«• They 
 halted at his house, and he opened the door. He 
 saw a rider with a led horse. 
 
 The man dismounted and came in. "Are you 
 the parson?" he asked 
 
 "I am." 
 
 *;WelI, I -m in trouble, and I want your help." 
 atate your desire." 
 "I want you to visit a man who is dying. He 
 
 fnl' ZVT '" " ^^^'- ""'' "'" "°' '"^t «» >"orn- 
 ing. Who do you think I am?" he asked 
 
 nli /.t° "'' ''"°"'- ^ """■■ '^'' y°" •'^fofe," re- 
 pued the parson. 
 
 "Well, I am a crook, same as the crippled one. 
 We belong to a band of shovers. The dying man 
 .s my brother. We were raised right, and he wants 
 your help; says he don't want to die in his sins. 
 Can you help him ? Please do so, if you can " 
 
 ^Perhaps, if he is truly penitent, I may." 
 Will you promise not to say anything of what 
 you saw to any one?" 
 
 "You want my professional services under vow 
 of secrecy. Is that it?" 
 
 „i "'^vu 'u' ^""^"^^y- '^°"' "'"'■''s i"'t slide into 
 place hke they was greased." 
 
 Beverly pondered his duty. The thought of a 
 godless mortal going unhelped to the judgment 
 bar decided the question. J^agment 
 
An Outlaw'i Death 
 
 2*3 
 
 "I will go," he said. 
 ••And you will never betray us?" 
 You have my word, sir." 
 
 ur^ th. h ^^° ' ■'"'""• °'dered him t^re-' 
 turn the horses at once to their place Th,n n, 
 
 maJ" hT"' I' "'' ''•'' ^'^""'y '^"^ 'he bounded 
 tX hurt. '"' " ^°""'' ^"<' -''oubtedly mor- 
 
 "Si7hl'' '!l"' ^'''' ^e^^end," said his guide 
 The ff *;,"""«'" you wanted to see^' 
 
 you wl?' '°°'^'' "P-- "-^ R-an said. "Do 
 /uu Know me, my man? 
 
 "Yes, sir," he replied, huskily. 
 
 His brother brolce in with- "H» i, .. 
 
 p^l:"."- '-''-•'"- -aS:S - 
 
 him^-'now h"'" \'^' "^'P'"* °"«. and asked 
 
 and, 
 
 please, 
 
 "No, sir; I 
 want 
 turning 
 
 "o, sir; I m a goner. No hope for me " 
 
 Then I want all to go away but your brother 
 the others, he said, 'Xeave u 
 
i! i 
 
 *»4 A Modern Apollo* 
 
 They all withdrew. 
 
 "Now open your heart, Sidney Tell m- it 
 you eel and desire," said Ronan '" '" "" "" 
 
 thin,^e1Stf"'^--'«-''-ay. Every. 
 
 Very well. I will gladly do it." 
 Calhng the men, he asked if any could sine 
 One or two oould ; but they knew no hymn Zk 
 
 sought! ^^u*""* *" '""' f^"«d McUw, he 
 
 ness H.'Mf "'•f "°"''' '''P^"^ ^is own w ak! 
 ness. He felt guilty ,ln,ost as they were and all 
 the creumstances considered, they were on onl 
 ratir='°^"°"^°''''-'-^<»'^'^-^i"u! 
 
 the countenances of the outlaws' an df,n ^ ? 
 
 & with"n"lin: •'™''^/™'" '"^ '•°°' ''» 'P'-"- 
 ■ng. with tinkling sound upon the stalaemite ml 
 
 umns which they were patiently building^ptt 
 
An Outlaw's Death 
 
 225 
 
 . Jricfi'™,"™" "■? "»" «<•■»". ■" 1.1. 
 
 / i-igni. amid the encircling g\oom " 
 
 broken chords m,-t tu '-'.=*'^enrimg, these 
 
 Cashed nu:',:zvxan'ZH^r -<' 
 
 was filled with a sfr^rn, f • ,. '"* "PPef »>>• 
 seemed that God td °^ ^I'^'^S harmonies. It 
 
 '""*'" "pint 
 
 Ron?„lti^rd^arthT„':;;ar"4:?d^r^'° 
 
 cross before my fading eves "th'. ^°\'^°" «>y 
 sobbing all around hTm. ' ' ' '"'° •"■"' '°'° 
 
aafi A Modern Apollos 
 
 When he ceased, the song swept on above th . 
 nnpng faintly in remote alcoves and distant halls,' 
 till the expiring cadence, like a white dove, flut- 
 tered across the chaotic darkness, and was gone 
 
 Men, said the preacher, slow.y, "every one 
 of you^must kneel while I pray; and do you pray 
 
 Holding little Sid's fluttering hand in both of 
 h.s, he prayed as he had never prayed, and when 
 he ceased the boy whispered: "Please stay with 
 n>e till I go. It will help me so much, and it 
 wont be long. No one here can aid me. You can 
 comfort me so much if you tarry till I am gone." 
 Very well," said the pastor; I will stay." 
 It was mornmg in the outer world before Sid's 
 spirit took its flight. Before he passed awuy, he 
 said, longingly: ' 
 
 "You will bury me, won't you, sir? I want 
 a decent funeral, even if I was so bad. You will 
 do this for me, won't you ?" 
 "Ye;," said Ronan. 
 
 When all was over, the brother said to him- 
 
 You cant go home to-day. You might be 
 
 noticed going or coming. We only pass out and 
 
 n a nigh . So spend the day here, and conduct 
 
 the funeral in the glen outside after nightfall " 
 
 I will do so," said Beverly; "but I must be 
 home before twelve o'clock." 
 
 thai'^o Jl"'"' '''■ ^' "'" ^" y™ "'^'^ ^^'''^ 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A Soul's Struggle 
 
 QEEING that the preacher was a man to be 
 K-» trusted, and knowing that he had pledged his 
 word to reveal nothing he learned in his profes- 
 sional capacity, the counterfeiters made no effort 
 to hide anything from him. 
 
 One of them, called Operator No. i, who was 
 none other than Moulton-a deep rogue, who 
 would meddle in any business that had gain in 
 
 had led the ghouls the night Colonel Satterlee was 
 assailed-showed him into various portions of the 
 cavern which stretched for miles, and allowed him 
 
 and even handle the crisp bills ready to be sent ou 
 and distributed to the felonious agents throughout 
 the country. Carboys of chemicals stood about 
 Cans of various-colored inks, bottles of acid, and 
 packages of fibrous paper were in reach. All the 
 essentials for fine printing were in evidence; and 
 the clergyman was amazed at the completeness 
 of the outfit for corrupt work. Plainly a master 
 mind was in charge of the obnoxious gentry. 
 
 He tried to stir up virtue in the breasts of 
 the reprobates; but they sullenly refused to talk 
 of their infamous traffic, and see-.ed dead to all 
 appeals to their integrity. 
 
328 
 
 ! 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 arches, cZ^int Tel <^^ ">« "P"><=hral 
 
 mica-flakes b7.5"1.?»" """"'^-"y'ta's, large 
 
 stone and the wi^.!,-. "^""-^"d-y/hite lime- 
 
 -n in thf eurd'sia s^'r r- '"r 
 I'ght of .he gh-n,n,er of the fire in^h, "."'""" 
 however, as he h=.H k '"* workroom, 
 
 awa. .esl I l^M beTosr "' "°' '° ^'"^ '« 
 
 •.oui'°afte:''t;e'i'n "n"" =""='' "' «°-"'^ 
 way .Lrough the hic^da^r"' "" """""^ "" 
 
 'he haunt ff the cu.prt^'e":L7He'°h' r^" 
 ator, the head and front of n, t , "^'^^ °P"- 
 spiracy, the mah, 7.^ • "^"'^ "'""'"al con- 
 and his brain was the h„ "f *''^ ramifications, 
 -work of .nlr^tns :L^eir m^ ' '"' ^''^ 
 
 spirrrS?!"^"^"'^^'' ^"'' ■''^ ""'O 
 «ons. On the edge o the' Wn"' '''^' °' "P""" 
 wound around aller- u '°""""y ""e path 
 
 families Ted'n a hudroft'"' "^"=" Negro 
 sician hastened throutf,,, ^^""^'- ^' ""^ P^y- 
 well-known t ai , he founH ! w'.^ '"''"^'' "^ ">^ 
 a huge limb fro; a Stree and thr"™ '""' '°'" 
 the path. GroDincr IT f'- ^'"""^ " across 
 
 thirt^ f«t &^ r trcVitd •°'';.''%^^"' 
 
 ness, slipped into on^Ztl ' ' '" ""^ <^ark- 
 by which'he surface drainaL""""""' ^'"''-''°'" 
 
 o'-Pit.fut.^^:m^"tnrthrr:^--- 
 
i* Soul'i Struggle 
 
 279 
 
 f«t"ter!'h:' '"""k^ '"°'' "»" '-"» "-"red 
 
 ILn^ ■ ^*«^"'' *''°« ^hild had died of 
 •mallpox i.,e day before, had, after the hurried 
 bunal, thrown all the infected bedding and srw 
 of he old mattress into this shaft, to get rM o {7 
 
 brergrrVionrtLr'' ""' '^^ '""■-" -^ 
 
 saw^aTM"^i'°.""'°"'""' »^'" ''°'"« hours, he 
 
 happenld V^^*" °7':'"""^' ""^ ^"^^ what had 
 nappened. He was faint with loss of blood and 
 nervously unraveled by the shock, but pIu'^Te 
 solved to n,ake an efTort ,0 save his life He kn w 
 
 tion" H^ ^. "?"' ■"" '"' "°' ^-°- his loca 
 
 °ve"r fl^W V ^'^ """'"" '" "'' ^«' ""d his 
 silver iJask m h.s coat-pocket. He poured a little 
 of the hquor on his handkerchief, after takin7a 
 s.p .0 strengthen him, and lit it ;ith one of Ws 
 preaous ma,, es. The alcohol flamed up and bea 
 
 of th^ hal'h """"u'u .""" "^ ""^h' ''« -'h- 
 ot the chamber, which lie recognized. 
 
 tion ,r' ^ ""? '™'" "'^ workroom in a direc- 
 tion seldom traveled. "I can never creep that d!s- 
 
 tion I am growing weaker every moment." 
 
 He was in a pitiable condition and liable to 
 CO lapse entirdy. Creeping away from the dil" 
 ca ded stra.- he tried to find an exit that led by 
 a short cut through Bat Hall .0 the rendezvous 
 fut .7Tr'' ''" """ " """'" °f ^ "i'e away,: 
 
 their silent h""" "'/"^ ''" "'^ '^'"^ -- '" 
 their silent house, and no one dared to venture 
 
1 
 
 aa-J A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 JdhttZvt'i'^' "«*" '" «•■•'' Wind flight! 
 An„i ">e bravest invader of their domlin 
 Another match was used to kindle some ofthe 
 
 dryest straw pulled from the center ofThe heap 
 
 ci^toit'Ts'' '' ""J''' '-' •'°"^'- -'' 
 crawled to It. H,s ^art sickened as he saw, within 
 the gloomy vault, the hideous creatures c ingin" 
 to the wall, and pillars, coating everything w^h 
 
 cnance, and he gnmly resolved to make a last ef- 
 fort to escape and find succor. Painfully he re 
 ti: 'a T- r ''°"'^ »°="''<' " with tl,e^'„:" 
 on",nH , "'"^J"^ '""^'- •■«= "Shted one edge' 
 of .t, and staggered into the inferno. Half-blinded 
 he ran m the right direction ; but his blazin/bpl!.' 
 
 roof and the Tartarean shower fell in gruesome 
 
 TtaT "h ' fl- *^\^ V'"^''-^ 'Hem froS 
 h,"m Ii . *^ "'•' •'"P'"' 'squeaking, from 
 
 s' o'in thL ,"'" °" """^ ^"'''""■g bodfes and 
 sl.p m the.r sl.me again and again. Onward wildly 
 he pressed toward the opposite door, dimly een 
 as he swung h,s flaming meteor around him; bu" 
 Inu^r,^ '■sHt brought *he hairy, misshaped ten- 
 ants of the underworld in troops upon him In 
 frenzy they buffeted him, but he lunged inanely 
 forward through the Dantean tem;est hI 
 strange lamp had burned to a remnant%„d, reel! 
 u/both r'l' ^ "^' '■'' ^"'°'''"^- "' His feet, put 
 whirlwmd beatmg against him, gave a long pierc 
 .ng cry for help, and fell to the floor in a^iwoo^ 
 
A Soul'i Struggle 
 
 As he lay ttiere in the sunless realm, the leath- 
 
 whil^h: "; '""""r ' ''"'' """"«<• "P°"" '- 
 fro™ hi! "''''.^°";"'»'-' ^ffo«» to brush them 
 from his bleedmg face; but at every spasm his 
 uncanny foes returned to the attack, and the la 
 throe left him lying helpless under the vamS 
 
 Ronan, sitting not far from the outer gateway 
 o^ the place, heard the cry. and, turning saw a 
 
 when r; H ' """Z^"' '° '"'^ '"'° "'= chamber, 
 when he discerned the face of the despairing man 
 
 It was Deyne U-the relentless enemy, who had 
 wuh slander, smirched his name, and wrecked hi, 
 
 7' '" J"""'"' at last," he muttered, triumph 
 .apmg w,thm him. He thought of his ruined 
 career h.s mother's anguish, his father's shame. 
 R ghteous pumshment has overtaken the wretch. 
 Let h,m die befouled, unannaled,unkenned." And 
 he turned away to walk toward the camp-fire. 
 Then came a text to his mind, "Vengeance is mine ■ 
 I will repay, saith the Lord." 
 . He tried to stifle his conscience, which was 
 nnging alarm-bells within his breast. "I had no 
 hand in his death," he mused, half articulately, as 
 If answering some unseen accuser. Then he 
 turned and walked back to the grim chamber's 
 entrance. All was still as the |rave ?rtha£ 
 dread cell his malignant pursuer l!y, sullied, van 
 

 *3» A Modern Apolloj 
 
 Let Si™ c "t ' 7! j "" *="'" '""»°"-- 
 
 volcano thunde" d°n .h^'n'"?;"';"^ '°'«'- A 
 wa. caugh. berjee "two' '.« ' °d '-T' «' 
 *r«k on the jae<red7«f Ih *^'' '° '*"> 
 
 ve«el ha, goni down '" """"^ " «'°"» 
 
 ••■o. both cUed ha,r r„'to°;r4t':n" ?' 
 
 fl'ngs a beast from h.m, caugh ud hi, I *'"' 
 »ped swiftly into the room Kn>, I ■''' *"'' 
 stirless Devnell h. \ Kneehng beside the 
 
 from the docto .,''b, '^P jhe crawling creatures 
 »"•« hands, and I ftS";'.;'*'''"''' ^'""enance with 
 rapidly to the wo L"oo ' - ^^' ? ' ^°" *'''" 
 
 the men. They mi„ °te«H k""'" '°"'">' ""«<« 
 the chief, as th^^Xd W ."^ ""'^ '=°'"'' "> 
 earned him toVou'el'TJu:^''''*^*"'^*^''* 
 
 -ate fS'theUTr/'^"" »"' '"-k. 
 
 and the fever"at Lr "'''''""» '""'' him 
 
 ^^ After Z t£T re^r^ara^rV^^-'- 
 thought, and at ten o'clock nf .^ • . ''*^ '" 
 ghostly funeral i„ the glen tar bv T^" .''' =" 
 -ain. Of hapless little ?-|rd"::reVdt'rS/'=- 
 
 ! ! ' ?1B5J 
 
A Soul'i Struggle 
 
 333 
 
 on the moment, eager fof the fligh" ' '""' 
 
 i» irrevocable?" ^ °° ^°" ''"°«' '' 
 
 Krave I h^" K " ^°" ^'"""^ "« 'rem a wa.iry 
 grave, I have been yours, wholly yours " ^ 
 
 nemember." he rftnm.^ "t 
 •nan, with a blasted career " ""' " "'""""' 
 
 awhiS^Youtltirr"'- :' ""^^ '"""^h f- 
 'or the man" she ov^" She" ' """J!" "" '° 
 «ame,. as . .hey w'eTbut I^Troot ^. '"-'' 
 
 into eternitv and it T u ^ ^ ''"' ^^^ ^ '°°'' 
 wou^harm:"/„X K-''^o right. Vou 
 
 tientir" '" '"'""'•" "^' """'■'<•. '■"?»- 
 eredl^Ctrt.sJi;::.''"'-'— 
 Parti she gasped. "Why, Beverly >-• 
 
 .ernL,Sy.^ltvX^^^ 
 
 forth I will be remorselessly true I can „n,T 
 
 51,. 1 "';"S^> never to cross again." 
 
 fa^ "Ynf^ ■^'''"'' "-^ ^^'^ '°^ support, say. 
 >ng. »ou despise me, then?" ^pu". say- 
 
 I 
 
»34 A Modern Apollo. 
 
 but it began when I C.-^" ."""""'y ''"d base; 
 
 "You will leave m. v,' "^ "'"^'"ed me." 
 alone?" """ ""' Beverly; leave me here 
 
 "At once, and forever f p.. 
 comfort your father-wTh all hf f" ° "" '■°""' 
 ««'• than I. Hate me for L '""'• ""^ " bet- 
 
 'e». fickle, mean. Tcare little"."™',: "" ""' '=""'- 
 on me „ow-I have oi "^ "'" ^"^™ beats 
 Laura, you will fctw m; rul^l""; '°'"' <'»^- 
 and you, and then you wi Taf -H ""'" "''''" 
 badj-but I will not hear you-Twi^b .7' "°' '" 
 Mr. Ronan T ran n„f u °* 'a"" a*ay." 
 
 I live without ;;; ?" I ;°' ^° •'''='' -°^- how can 
 "tion; you must not a^km/r'/ ""'"' '° '^P*' 
 counted all the cos^and wilT^ ? u *''" ' ^ ''ave 
 
 ^■th you. withou you wl f "" ""''■» '-is^ 
 
 As he looked at h^. "°' "'°«b having!" 
 
 '-■•th the warm blood of r^lf."' '""■ """''^d 
 fathers, his heart throbLd .^^^''"""nean fore- 
 --OW. Joy, that h" S hi \""T' >°y »"" 
 curb of his own reckless „« • *" '"'"'' °" ""e 
 sorrow, for the woman ^?"7 ^ 'r"''' '""affable 
 starlight on the h°aThf •.? f "'"*' ^''^b the 
 and the bunch of panl, „ ' *?' ''" ^'""^ hair, 
 raging in her breast " ^"""""^ ^'"' "'^ battle 
 
 he answ^rel '"I a^m unl? 'l"l:°'^^'^ <'«'»ion." 
 
 any woman in my hldf' 1'° '"" '"t happiness ^f 
 
 . "Let us not part! Beverlv Tf^^u ^^ '^="«^" 
 
 f ve you if I ask him to dot v' """ ""'" '°'- 
 
 ^w..Makeupyourwor,°a::S— tyt 
 
A Soul's Struggle 
 
 235 
 
 tune with you Nn «„. 1 
 
 "■•^ht; you'can comb 1"^°!, 'r'' ?""-' '-« 
 
 pea.. hrit^^/bToctnrJ,''" f ■ ^—^ 
 
 1° ."e strong, but 1S„" Vli;^' tl T' '^^'"^ 
 hentance that clogs even thA Z*"^ ■"""'^ '"- 
 thought of the Defn.r , *""' °' "'°'-'a's- He 
 
 him in disdlS":;: '" ".'° "^•^ '"^^-^ fu- 
 ture, with weal h in heltL" '"-'^ "'^"'' "^^- 
 W- up the highway o S ' Tf'""^ 1° ^° ""^' 
 stant, and the recoil „,, I "** *"" an in- 
 
 tory was won- h ^"efdr /''"'"'''' ^- 
 screaming, the door ba'red ' ""''' =""* °"'' 
 
 No, no, Laura," he sairt • "T -i. 
 wrong yourself_it is Id'^. T "°' '" y"" 
 
 'dly home, and early next J "^ "^"' ^^P" 
 
 be'ongings, to the tra" T'""^ ""'"'' "^'^ ""^ 
 office for the last time "'ornT'"^ "' "'* P°^'- 
 'o a bookstore n N w trk ,r""°™"'"='' 
 handed him a letter whU,, ^• ^^ P°^""aster 
 which he read on IhT "^ '"'' ""'^'^' «"<! 
 
 It was from his old fr-T 1"'"^'"^ ^^^'^ard. 
 Prison at Rj!:,::f,f„'-^J^;''e chaplain of the 
 
 you"s £:r.ortrj°" ^^'"■"'^'' -. when 
 
 ~nsumptiye burglar whom "" °" "^'"'' ""e 
 
 urgiar whom you used to talk with. 
 
i ^ I 
 
 236 A Modern Apollos 
 
 week, and I buried him in the little prison cem- 
 etery o„ the hill. He often spoke of you ^d 
 
 had helped*™ very much. We are glad to hear 
 of your continued success. Write soon. 
 "Yours fraternally, 
 
 "E. C. Hanning." 
 
 his frLT""'"^ '^' ''°'" '" ^** York, he opened 
 his trunk, as soon as it was brought to his room 
 and from the bottom took out a pa^ckage o leZ"' 
 The one handed him by Hahn was broken ojn 
 and he read these words : ^ ' 
 
 "Dear Friend Ronan.-Ii is very little I can 
 do to show my gratitude for all you have done for 
 
 bl th. f r' ^°" "^^'y '° "'^' I "°"'d not now 
 be the friendless wreck I am. Perhaps I can helo 
 you a mle to uplift other unfortunates. * 
 
 After I am dead, which will be soon, for I am 
 going fast-the old outlaw is nearing he cutoff 
 now-you must go. at night, to Folly Is,a„7 
 
 abn,r* "^^°" '^'"^ °f Dellhursi. It is' 
 about twenty-four miles south of that toU 
 
 and one mile above the city of P Th^e 
 
 ■s a big stone house there, now going to decav 
 and once there was a fine garden^around it On 
 he extreme south end, where the sand begins anS 
 
 lufr fe^^tr "" '"' - -•■"-- 
 
 bles'To^'raJe f°'''"''V^"^^°'"' *'"> b^am- 
 now. Take two cords, each as long as the 
 
A Soul's Struggle 237 
 
 distance between the trees, tie one to each trunk 
 extend hem south, where the ends meet ng form 
 the point of a triangle, you must dig three fee! deeT 
 and take what you find. Have n^o compunctn's' 
 about usmg the money, as the rightful owner " 
 and i. rf .'^°= ^' ^''""^ " '^6""^. b"t cruelly 
 
 own and r "". ^°°'- ^°" "" "'^" «"<- -^ 
 use ft tnh , i ^°" '° '"'''= ■' " yo"' O"". and 
 use It to help suffering humanity. 
 
 inif yoS'Sr" '7 '" ^°'' *" f°' "■«' ''»<" wish- 
 ing you long life and prosperity, I am, 
 
 "Your penitent friend, 
 
 "Joseph Hahn." 
 
 it anTn"' •!, ""i°"'. ''"" ""■' '^ ' I w!" sleep on 
 n. and dec.de what is best to do in the matter " 
 in the evenmg he strolled about the city A 
 
 Stithr"' '"''"^ '-- ^ ■"^-'- ^'^ H^ 
 
 the «™est'rf ''."' "'"' ''°'''y' «"•' *'"c'>ed 
 tne earnest men and women instructing the seek- 
 
 pac:!:^^hf;""^ !?; '"p^'"'- ^' -- - p' -t 
 
 ct;u^ tmshSn trr T "'- 
 
 voices, the limp forms, andLazy "aiment Th" 
 stght of .t, sound of it, smell of it' was :: efuUo 
 
 He : r^'l!" t'l *""'"^'^^"' °f humanity 
 womln T'"- ^^^y <'°" 'hat clean, lovelv 
 
 woman come here, night after night, to rescue 
 these ren..,ants of mortality?" 
 
 o„J* T'** '"^' '° ''""^ ■'^^ ^"^*e^; so he beck- 
 
 Well, s.r.' she repUed. exultantly, "you think 
 
»38 A Modern Apollos 
 
 bundle On! who thinl, "™" '""'"' '" °"« 
 while othei-rsuffer h, ■ ° .'"^"^ ''™'"f "'""^ 
 Only bAe:Wn1";he" ™ro„f "T"';"^ °' "'^' 
 
 and evidently has seen'bet.er da„V" ^' '"°''''' 
 
 but ShT;i!dred'tLr^"^^ '•'-"'«- 
 
 askf;i:tr' Ho ' H '"' 'r '^^"'^ """•"-- and 
 "No be ' r ^r ''"' "°^' "y ''^'herr 
 
 "That 's it, exactly." 
 
 f. /y*,"' ^"' '^° y°" '"'°''' I expected to fail ? Tn 
 fact I always fail at a job like this." "' ' ^" 
 
 You do?" 
 
 fails?''' ^ ''°' ''"' ^ ■'"''^ ^ ^"^"'i who never 
 C tie Church""' r" ''T""^ '" "'^ terminology 
 
A Soiil'j Straggle 
 
 239 
 
 with stream ngf^randf^r^' "'"■ '"^ ^'""'y- 
 Pr digal home XL I """« ''"?• '^'' 'he 
 track from the' f^r"^ ^ "'P' '" ""= ''='<=kward 
 arm. they caml '°"'"^^' ''"'' "^ ^■'''. arm-in- 
 
 first getTmTo '/ou " X Ln°'' ■^°".'""^' 
 
 moaning penitent by hssi?e hT T"""" ""^ 
 and, amid the awful J "'"o"' stood up, 
 
 "Lord, if thou hasf^ot t7me :r"""'^ "'^<'- 
 onel" And throu..!, v • ' ^""^ ">« t^is 
 
 break over th. ^ ""'^ "y" ^e saw a glow 
 
 "All new 1" cried he, leapine-un "H„ 
 Th"^ f 7^ ''^ ''hot, his face beaming. 
 
CHAPTER XVm 
 
 The Criminals are Taken 
 
 'U/'HEN Ellis reached the Garden City a, it 
 Hers ti,. • • ^ ^^*™re for a metropolis. 
 
 «... *iVi:s"LtL'°s' r\°' "?"»"- 
 
 one on^hT eveTLnd n ^ l'"'^'""^ '"^e and 
 ships and one in V, , ^'"'^ °" ''*' '^"^hted 
 
 from North^Llo ," S'ste^.rH''"""! *°" 
 ing her larpess tn h "'/. u ""ff^ways bear- 
 
 240 
 
The Criminals are Taken 241 
 
 1* ,;•""■ V' ^'~t^in:;sr.i 
 
 table boarding-house on the West sU %? 
 
 3''at is it?" asked Philip. 
 H, J r ''''."'''' '° '">' '■°°"'. » sick younff man 
 
 ■'A sad case, Mr. Phipps," said Ellis. 
 He IS nothing to me, one way or another • but 
 
 Lv, "JT'^ '° ■"■"• ^ •^"°- he has "en bine 
 days and I tried to help him. When he was hur 
 our landlord wanted to send him a" oncrt„ the 
 to n v"'""- "^ ''^^'"'^<' 'hat place, and I offe ed 
 to pay h.s room rent, and provide a phy idan » 
 
 16 
 
242 
 
 I'l I 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 my position; but you are at liome, sleeping dur- 
 hif ' "''■ ^°"''' ^°" "' '''"'' -ough t" 
 
 "f da" *° ' ' ''"• '°"«' '"''' " '' »" '^^ 
 
 in »3"'"u-^'" '*''' "" compositor. "I will go 
 m and ne him now. 
 
 Tlie sufferer, whose name was Edward Halley. 
 looked h.s gratitude when the plan was Uid befor^' 
 h.m. The hired girls had neglected to give him 
 the potion, and he had suffered greatly. He was 
 wasted to a skeleton, and the sSl o 'death Z 
 
 .iJr ^/^' '""' **"" ^•''PP' ^"'""i home at 
 ™n. ' o u'" "P ""^ "'"'"• •'' 'ound the room 
 rZ 'h ^"«^ ^^'^ '° '"^ ''"'='''"• he asked the 
 that the other boarders threatened to leave unless 
 the sick man was removed, and, after Ellis went 
 
 ltw!,"»u '" ""= '^'"'"^f- '•" ambulance had 
 taken Halley to the hospital. 
 
 lit ^J?'PP'' "'ho fancied the youth because he was. 
 hke himself of English stock, from the same shire 
 of Sussex, hastened, without supper, to the City 
 Hosptal, where he was refused admittance. 
 
 Vou must come in visiting hours," said the 
 doorkeeper "Wednesdays and Fridays, from one 
 to five in the afternoon." 
 
 . It was Monday, and Phipps said, warmly. "My 
 fnend will be dead before Wednesday; can I not 
 see him now?" 
 
 "No. sir; orders are imperative." 
 
 Dejectedly he went home; and on Wednesday 
 
The Criminals are Taken 243 
 knocked off half a day Philin .„t u' , 
 to go with him. They foutd hIi?" '*" '^'"' 
 full of narrow bed He ^al ""'^ '" » '^"'' 
 
 wiuSXShar-""'"*'-^^'-^- "^ 
 
 pur»e and PI,;.,., ■ . .,, * money in h s 
 
 W a^TclfS^'Elii;^" "' ^^' '"^ -°- '*'- 
 "All right. I believe in that." 
 
 theiXlTer-froor' ^''"f""'" '° ^^^ '<> 
 Then the"£ se bTe'^anr' "" •"""" "'^'«- 
 
 Let me look at it, will you?" 
 
 'i 
 
244 A Modern ApoIIoi 
 
 and .tarted m .urpr,.e. It wa. the face of Edith 
 
 Did Halley tell you his hiitory?" 
 "Part of it." said Phipp,. "He was of a fine fam- 
 ily, somewhere in the East. When quite young, 
 he went wrong, under older rascals' tutoring. He 
 forged a note for a large amount, and fJed the 
 country. His mother was dead, and his father a 
 stern "lan, cast him oflf utterly; but, secretly, his 
 
 visited her; but always under cover, and saw her 
 only a few moments." 
 
 A light was breaking on Ellis. "Did he visit 
 her recently?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; only a few days before he was cut 
 down on the street." 
 
 Philip's heart was knocking louo. His con- 
 
 thTCphiiys 1"^ •""• "^"' ^°" "' - ''"p 
 
 "For the present, yes. If it is claimed, you will 
 turn It over to whoever has a right to it " 
 
 Ellis hurried to his room, shaking with anguish. 
 
 O Edith, my darhngi What cruel thing have I 
 
 done? Stabbed you with my awful accusation 
 
 when you were trying to save your own flesh and 
 
 blood. God forgive me! I am not fit to live I" 
 
 the bed. where he writhed in unavailing remorse. 
 Ihe -ext train flying toward Millbank bore 
 Elhs; ar ,t went all too slow for him. A man 
 who could confess a wrong, he was aching to seek 
 her pardon. Perhaps-perhaps, there might be 
 
The Criminal, arc Taken 245 
 
 hops for him yet. If ,0 » i.f-- . 
 
 b. .he price hLouM;:^'^;^"-"''' 
 
 noticed on hi. iinger a .'ver Z '"";."'' ^"'"P 
 :^-^St-hS?--- 
 
 other warmly ""' "'' ^"'*'' "'* 
 
 Ellis loolced him over while „,-, j. 
 read, aud recognized annVh . P'««"dmg to 
 «J"«rtet. "Going to their r,. "'' "•="°''°rou. 
 batch of the 'queer '"he I t""' '°' """'be' 
 w«Ho,lowther:nkma';.a'oo,:^-'''"'^^^ 
 
 " cab, and said : "FolW .1°? '" ''* '=""«' 
 
 .-hem notice it.X:t^-;« •'on. 
 
 speJ^Urr milffc^^^^^^^ - f -veyances 
 To his surprise t'hev * '"''''°P^'''''«'"'h. 
 
 through MiE by r^oir eldl f "', T "" 
 on the edge of the Cave mi !f " '"''''^'^' ="«"• 
 He did the same u^.^ J' ""'""'' ""= ^^^icle. 
 woods after th"m. '""'• '"" P"'"*" '«° the 
 
 knoS\nd r'nT"'''' ''""''' ''°"^'=- they 
 
 .i~. ..d.„t:-.htt.i"'""' " '"' »■ 
 
^46 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 built hoMei were there. He entered, and learchej 
 carefully, and by pulling away the hay heaped 
 against the side of the stall next the hill, saw 
 that the boards were loose'. He pusheu them 
 along, and looked into the cavern. All was Stygian 
 gloom; but when his eyes grew accustomed to the 
 darkness, he could trace the outlines of a room 
 0.1 hands and knees he moved into the chamber, 
 felt his way round the damp walls, which the 
 ooang water had chiseled into fantastic shapes, 
 and, moving part of a rock, saw a far-off, faint 
 haze, as of light. Carefully he moved, softly as a 
 cat, and the glow ripened as he pushed on. His 
 scoutmg experience in the army stood him in good 
 stead now, and, after a painful progress of twenty 
 mmutes. he peered between two stalagmites, and 
 saw the counterfeiters by their (ire, engaged in 
 their iniquitous profession. 
 
 It was a picturesque spectacle. Eight of the 
 gang were present, and all busily at work, some 
 printing, some sorting, some packing the spurious 
 currency. Over them a high dome leaped into 
 the blackness, braced by the buttresses of the 
 mighty hills. Hundreds of stalactites hung from 
 the vault overhead, each with its pendant drop at 
 the point, all gleaming like aerial diamonds. On 
 the walls gypsum was spread in lustrous white- 
 ness, flashing from its filigree facets a myriad 
 ghnting gems. 
 
 The dripping water and blowing wind of 
 buried ages had scarped and hewn the massive 
 walls into weird forms and grotesque shapes. 
 Here was a chamber so spaciously pillared, so 
 
The Criminali are Taken 
 
 847 
 
 i" .o«e v.„ temple in Theb„h°".?"'' ''"' ""f"' 
 A .mall rill lay like ..ilv. -^ "" """'"J ^^'le- 
 •»d the voices'; the wo le""'" '"~" "" """^ 
 groined roof far abovT ' ''^°"^ ''>' "-e 
 
 -e?.l&"l'"r"''"' "' «- the fig- 
 the room. One o,7nT'' °'" "" "'»<'°*» ''"of, 
 lifted .ome water °rom ", ■°°^ " "" <="? and 
 
 "•ke a mirror mbedTed H '" "" ""' ^'''^^ '»' 
 «»" drank, and stepped aVer'.hr'?;, ''!" "^'^ 
 «nter, near a torch Elli. , """^ '"'° "'e 
 
 ment, and caught at'ti.e 1m ''t '^'"' a^on'sh- 
 
 •nind reeled as the tmh h """"- '" ' *"■•"• "'» 
 hi» brain. "'"' """^'d '" way through 
 
 •Xank Tc'e ^htjed hUmt:' ^ ""^ -"''• "'» 
 «° get a drink for h,s 'wn n .'"'''"^''""-'"'""e 
 
 '.hVe.tVnrni Homr^^f-"' ^^'^'end 
 Noiselessly he sloped out "7°^'™"°"'' 
 open night, under the stars r^ m ' *''^" '" "^e 
 a shout of triumph r! I', "i" "^"" ^""-ain 
 and wakened th7const!e to ST", '" ''''■ 
 Jad^only one deputy Who c;uTdlt'J:;--„„t 
 
 ^^^^'^:^:^J:^j^' ^^ »- have 
 
 w'tt?Srr;--'^'"«ed Horse 
 
 «-„ lodged ther;.xra-:::^:- 
 
M A Modern Apollos 
 
 at twelve o'clock, and gathered around Elli, in 
 the big room. 
 
 Quickly he related his tale, and the whole squad 
 volunteered in a moment. 
 
 », "°'*ri""'''"'"'^'''™«™<»-«'hiskeredcat- 
 
 fimW ;h ''' " "' ""^ «»"« "«" has been 
 fil Ing the country w.th the 'flimsy' for the last 
 
 four years. I want to help round 'em up! Olit 
 
 will be better 'n sweet pertater pie to git 'ew in a 
 
 corner I Whoopet! hold me down!" 
 
 .hJu °"^T °' "" '^" ^^'^ 'hree pairs of 
 shacWes, and ropes were secured (or tying them 
 
 them?" r" *ufr ''"" '"°"6'' "'" '° handle 
 them? he asked the Captain. 
 
 "More than plenty," said Ellis. "One pood 
 
 ™.S "f,, "*"''^' """ canary-colored canines 
 such as that crew is composed of." 
 
 Five of the most sinewy drovers were chosen, 
 the farm-wagon driven out, and away they went 
 spoihng for the hunt. Halting half a mile a^y 
 m a neck of timber beside a swamp, the partv 
 pressed onward afoot. At two in the morning, they 
 
 hand-m-hand, led by Ellis, along the wall. In ten 
 minutes they were in the grotto behind the laby- 
 nnth of columns, and peeped out. 
 
 The unsuspecting knaves were toiling away. 
 The Constable, knowing Ellis was a captain and 
 had seen hard service, asked him to lead The 
 
 ales """ "^" "'"^^' '"'' ^" '"■*^*' " ^i^- 
 
 Philip whispered: "Get as near as you can 
 
 without noise. Have guns ready. When they dis- 
 
The Criminals are Taken 249 
 
 <!»™-(.i .L *-ome on, men ' 
 
 fire. ^ toward the crew near the 
 
 droS and eoT '"! °'^^'''- °- '"P^" at a 
 
 that .n'ocra Z Lt,"ero':i'r- h". ''' '"'^ 
 a pellet of Irarf s„ j ■ "* '""^ '° fu". but 
 
 ^oanL^oSe r°octT„f ""«"' '"" '^^^^'' 
 handcufifed, and soon /"/ """"^^ 'h«e were 
 
 bound hana and foot Em " ^"' '"'^'^ 
 
 looking for SatterleeT.t''"' "7'"^ "°""''- 
 -id, "Where is the oM lian'" """" ""^ ""' >■' 
 
 bearing a to'rch to™ f oVt ^ichTrd '"'"'"^''■ 
 
 tHc.ight.an/:iSHrnaTor''-^'-° 
 Colonel, do you know me?" he cried 
 No recognition was in the warVor'. f .• 
 reason was dethroned ' face-his 
 
 not^m-sS'""'' "'=''" '""■'• «"' '"e work was 
 
 whii?foj°o7;sl and '"l^""'^" '"«'= ""elps, 
 -•s in this mess ble^erl^ t' "'^^"' H""- «« 
 take any cha^t'^^^ ,,^,/f -^ '"I; °°"'' 
 away; if they o,„ any S :ictsIoUr^ ^- 
 
 -^a^^;Xhii5r--ss 
 
I i 
 
 'SO A Modern ApoUos 
 
 the house-two at the front door, two at the rear. 
 The Constable had warned them, saying: "Ma^ 
 sure of L.je first thing. Be wary ; he is bfg enough 
 to throw a bull oflF a bridge." Senougn 
 
 fron?'"" '''''!.■■ "^ ""'' ""'' Westerner will take the 
 front , you and your man the rear. When you hear 
 our door go down, smash yours." 
 
 fr„n^*°^" """^ T"* "^''y- "C^^hl" went the 
 front door, as they threw themselven against it 
 Down went the other, and in an instant tfey filled 
 
 They ell on their knees, and abjectly begged for 
 
 h "^"; ,,^r "•' S'^'n' black was bou^d, and 
 they heard Ellis cry, "Come here!" 
 
 In a shed bedroom, at one side, was a candle 
 burnmg, and on a couch lay a sick man. raving 
 with fever. Drawn skin, cracked lips, and glassv 
 eyes told of his malady. Ellis took the cfndle 
 
 foul black sores, covering his features Uke some 
 grisly mask. An unmistakable odor was in the 
 air. 
 
 quick!"''"''"'''" '"'' "" Constable. "Come out. 
 
 But Philip said: "Come, look at him. Do you 
 know who it is ?" ' 
 
 The deputy stepped in, and shrank back 
 It IS Dr Deynell," he said. "Leave the wench 
 here to care for him. We can't arrest him, though 
 I believe he is the ringleader in this damnable 
 business. Come. I wouldn't touch him with 
 tongs forty feet long. The sheriflf on the white 
 horse will get him." 
 
The Criminalj arc Taken 25, 
 
 safclvT "'' ""l""* *"e loaded in the wagon 
 ^^rt pn- ''■ ^^^ '^°"^"''"' drove the hoTes' 
 
 arms The others marched close by. Dawn was 
 
 breakmg as they neared the tavern 
 
 «l,^" !"'y;"^«" fa™" saw them passing and 
 
 asked what they had. One trader replfed "we "e 
 
 been hunt ng all nieht r.nf «;„i,» . 
 
 one 'coon." ^ "^^^ 'possums and 
 
 tn yj"*" " ""''"g" was dispatched, post-haste 
 
 ackers locked tn the harness-room under ward 
 
 "We have an old carryall " 
 ''You know Colonel Satterlee's homer 
 les, sir. 
 
 sen7.hT ^"'"^ ""'^ '°°"- °'"' ''°"f aft" I start 
 s«ad the conveyance, with the Colonel and two 
 good men, to his house. I will be t»,-r. . • 
 
 hin, >■ '^' ^ """ "e 'here to receive 
 
 When the party left Hull's house, the negress 
 Suse was told to attend to Deynell but shT^ls' 
 frightened, and said, "Er common houn' bea^t^ud 
 know be«,h on ter stay in this conjured ;, ce " 
 
 forest anT."".' ""^ ''"' «°"' '•>* "^'l '"^o the 
 forest, and ned to get to the city to hide. 
 
 crii" f u ?"" ''"yt'^ak, the delirious sufferer 
 cned for help, and. half dazed, rose and left the 
 house, staggering through the gloom. He was 
 burmng with fever, and the washing of thf creek 
 overful with the rains, drew him to its bank He 
 waded mto the cold water, and tried to c^I £ 
 
«52 A Modern Apollo* 
 
 scalb. hands. Crazed with consuming fire, he stum- 
 bkd deeper into the muddy waters. MuKering 
 mcoherently and tearing his blotched skin with 
 h.s nails m h.s strong agony, he essayed to dip 
 h.s face m the turbid torrent. Falling forward, he 
 was swept, struggling, away. He was dead ling 
 before he went into the dam, and some Sunday 
 fishermen found his dead body, floating in the 
 intake, at noon. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The Colonel is Restored 
 
 and twice each Sunday f th ^"S^^""^^ service 
 *as seen in her pel She w/","'"' *" ''^"- »•>» 
 so-1. who had seen so man ' '""""'• """'erly 
 -otional para/yshr:;; on he^" '"" ' ■"■"<» °' 
 
 J>ne often said • "T »,- , ' 
 world. I hav wept the f„ V •"" ^ '«"' '" "-e 
 %heartisabro.rn^Ltn°""'"" °' "'" '''^• 
 
 anothe^t^tltT'Tnrrr "'^ °"'^ »'•'''<' 
 helplessness, she had iaken' ." ''"^ °' """b 
 ond alacrity, finding in'SVP''".''""" ''■■"■ 
 fron. the thoughts w^hicht^redtr " """ 
 
 ;HdifHrtferd-v:r^"2Vv''-^H'- 
 
 "Yes, Aunt T u !' '"°™'"S- dear?" 
 
 rests and renews Jou"°TSr''r°^^'"-" 
 When the elder L ^ ''°'''<' »°. too." 
 
 hundredth tiL t „t te^th T ^'"■"'' '^ '"^ 
 «:ene with the Capt^ "" ''"'^'» °f her last 
 
aS4 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 O, if I could see him, 
 
 "I wonder where he is ? 
 and tell him all I 
 
 She took down his picture, which showed him 
 in military dress, gazed tenderly at it; then looked 
 at the engagement ring on her finger, which he 
 had so angrily trodden on. 
 
 "I suppose I ought not keep it," she thought ; 
 "but this poor bauble seems the last link that 
 binds us together. He saved my father's life; I 
 can remember him for that, and forget his cruel 
 accusations." 
 
 The Church bells rang sweetly across the 
 autumn fields, and she recalled their Sunday walks, 
 hand in hand. So happy then, so miserable now; 
 all in a few short weeks. Life seemed a failure to 
 her. A strain of Mendelssohn's musical lamenta- 
 tion floated in her mind, "O for the wings of a 
 dove I" 
 
 She craved surcease of trouble; she was over- 
 borne. The old, old problem emerged again: 
 Why was such a good man as her sire taken 
 away, while wicked men are at rest in their homes? 
 Why is the orange-tree, that perfumes all the 
 winds, felled, while the upas-tree, polluting the 
 air, fattens and thrives unchecked? She was in 
 the mood of stout old Luther, when he cried, "I 
 am weary of life I O that the Lord would take me 
 home I" Of Moses, asking, "Wherefore hast Thou 
 afflicted me?" Of Paul, "I would rather depart." 
 Father and lover torn from her, life seemed a 
 dreary prospect. 
 
 Soppy skies lowered over the brown fields, 
 shaking a chill mist from their dull expanse. The 
 
 ni 
 
The Colonel is Restored 
 
 255 
 «•»!> picture outside was » r-„r 
 
 «HouSrLrr;AuHf"f"-^'"^''' 
 
 ■"K up the windi„rroad anH*^ "^ """''°*' ^°°^- 
 jng across the hilffih:"!'"'?? " "2," »«alk- 
 Up tl,e orchard he hurries Plm^ , °"' ^'''""•" 
 him with welcome barklnl fu ."P'"*^ *° "«' 
 
 he steps, alongThe S hi "^"^ ""' "" """^ 
 door. As shftu'r^j''^^;-,^,™'*" 'he parlor 
 seechingly: ""' ^e says, be- 
 
 "Edith, my beloved I i -„ 1. 
 giveness." ^ "" here to beg for- 
 
 solemn rapture of thill ''"',/P««=h for the 
 •poke, it ^s7o siy'"' """"■ ^'•*" he finally 
 
 corned: '^er T'T i""' *"" ""'»' ^ "- 
 your brother in the West ir;: T^'" ^ "'' 
 story I stood reveal J'! tlf *^" ^ '*"''^'' his 
 
 I caJLe as lastrstltluYd ^r yt e t™" t^" 
 your pardon. Can you gran' "r ' ""' '° ""P'°'« 
 
 iheir lips met in one Ions kiss ,„w fc 
 «P her hand, with the rinf „"'."«' 'he put 
 saying: ' ""^^ ""hmg upon it, 
 
 since^ou'depaned "rnTr^;."'' '°' " '"°'"«n' 
 
■I 
 
 »56 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 hot; the drcumstances were inexplicable. But all 
 i» well now between us." 
 
 A. they walked, arm-in-arm, to the window, 
 she said: 
 
 "How different the earth and the sky seem I 
 The gray sky has turned to blue; and how bril- 
 liantly the sun shines I" 
 
 "Yes," said Philip. "The outer world rhymes 
 to the inner, my dearie." Then he -*ng— 
 
 "'Tb numncr •nd Ihe dajfi are long, 
 Wlieii the heurt. the hcut is young." 
 
 ''F'° y°" "« 'hat man walking there?" said 
 Edith. "I am so happy I could run out and say 
 to that stranger. 'Do you know Philip has come 
 back? I want to tell all people my joy. But 
 there is a carriage coming up. Church is not out 
 yet ; I wonder who it can be." 
 
 "Let us go out and see." said Ellis. 
 Standing dose to support her, they watched 
 the two drovers lift Colonel Satteriee from the 
 vehicle. One ringing cry, "My father!" one leap 
 hke a gazelle, and she clasped him in her em- 
 brace. When he made no return, she looked 
 closer, and one of the men explained, "He is ill 
 just now. but will be well by and by." 
 
 Tenderly they bore him into the'house, and in 
 his familiar chair seated him. He stared vacantly 
 about, and settled his eyes on the floor. He looked 
 long at Edith, then at Philip, then dropped his gaze 
 again. The coachman was called in, and was over- 
 joyed to see his employer once more, and ran 
 
The Colonel is Restored 
 
 2S7 
 to fetch his wire, whose apron-corner wen, ,^ t, 
 eye. a. she looked at him Even "id lZo° I 
 
 th-I r^-I' '*°°^ '"""t "P°n the scene As 
 them r !"* "" '^°' "' Satterlee's feet one o 
 InH •T"' """"y' '^'"* •>" ''""'We in his eve 
 "««wVo°r °" 'V"*-'"- "That duTb 
 PCKinetolks What you moonin' about Abe?" 
 ou, l7V'l^"'''"^'" "P""' ""= °'her, as they Tent 
 out, ef I knowed which one o' them 'ere cuf 
 hroats welted that old man, he'd be mr^ea " 
 «^ "" '"^ '*'' ; y°" hear me ?" ^ ' 
 
 in. r ^"- '^"'"°"'' "'"™«'> f'on, the meet- 
 & "'y; "P °' '"'■" *" f"" 'o find her own 
 
 And :il"d"av^*"^ '°^" '"'"^'^ '° '"-"0^ 
 whh thl l"''./"'"<"'y «'shbors called to rejoice 
 
 rl JT\ '" **" ^="'"'« homestead. 
 
 The Colonel seemed to know he was at home 
 and once or twice tried to speak; at least 1^; 
 
 Iv'edtr ^'""' "' -^' ''"'"'' -" --one 
 
 The specialists from the citv— <>vn.M^, • 1. ■ 
 diseases-c M not findThrd^rThl IJlmem 
 but ordered that his bodily health be built utand 
 
2s8 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 hoped he might eventually be able to throw off the 
 palsy. 
 
 On Hallowe'en they lat about the open hearth, 
 where sizzled the logs; the sparks leaped up the 
 roaring flue, and the glow fell across the floor, 
 while shadows flickered on the walls. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond and her niece were working on 
 Edith's wedding robes and discussing the mighty 
 transformation of Laura McUw since Pastor 
 Ronan left Millbank. She had given up all former 
 pleasures to devote herself to the smallpox pa- 
 tients among the lowly. Night and day she nursed 
 and cheered them, and, despite old "Sinner's" en- 
 treaties, cared for them with her own hands. 
 
 When the hired nurses fled and neighbors 
 shrank to enter the pest-ridden tenements, she 
 stood by to minister and help. The doctors said 
 she saved nine people by her own labors; and 
 when her father became insistent and demanded 
 that she give up the dangerous work, she rented 
 a cottage among the poor, and for weeks slaved 
 and drudged to rescue them from the pestilence. 
 She was the angel of the stricken community. 
 Women adored her, men worshiped her. Chil- 
 dren left their mother's arms to tangle theii dim- 
 pled hands in her hair. No pauper funerals were 
 permitted. Out of her own purse she saw them 
 decently dressed for the dreamless sleep, and com- 
 posed them neatly in their plain coffins. 
 
 "A cheery heart is half the battle," she said. 
 She kindled hope, brought proper food and 
 medicine, cleaned up their dwellings, met the ice- 
 man at the doors he dared not enter, and shamed 
 
The Colonel is Restored 259 
 
 the baker till he followed her up t|„ „»;„ ,„ 
 r.ed .he milk-jug, to the whole row wh"; ,": 
 
 Ron?n"wa,"' ""'"' *""*'''*"« *""' ^^Verly 
 
 carniva of the children in all Saxon lands The 
 eene n.ght for fortuncpeering and faTry-^ein/ 
 
 refVarhid^^h T' '° """ '•p"' 'h^k^ f; 
 
 seed rnl ^ . ' '"'"■"' "'"' "«= "''' °f hemp- 
 seed roasted nuts, midnight mirrors, and turnip- 
 
 filled 'A " ""^'" '^"'^"^ spluttering in wate^- 
 stretched cords across the walks to trip unwarv 
 pedestnansj when the wild-boy pack fo'l.oTd I 
 fearless leader into cabbage-plots, and fiu„g gates 
 as.de to revel in forbidden places; and wrinkled 
 
 thaT-auT'r'' •''?. '^ '"' -'' '"'°^he^ 
 that auld Hornie" had unlocked the' asbestos 
 
 wXklohi'h'''"" ""r* '"" ""^^ -"'"nd 
 
 X he looH "T°"' f'^'^'; *hile for six hours 
 wor.d;anTsi4r'^ '""" '""^ "-<' '° ^^^ 
 
 "O, that mine ejm might clortd bt 
 To whu concerni me not to xel" 
 
 A riding party of six loads of lads and lasses 
 was gomg by with jingling bells and merry so" s 
 They all loved Edith, and liked Philip, and as thev 
 swept by, they cheered heartily, and then th^ 
 strains of "Blue Juniata" rose on the air 
 
a6o 
 
 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 if bru.h.ng .way , mi„. i„ hi. .ye. dawning con 
 
 "Go to him," whispered Philip. 
 
 H>i lips parted slowly. A heavenly .mile lit 
 up^.. wrinkled face, and he »id. .oftl/: 'Z^l 
 
 "Yes, father." faltered Edith. 
 The bells have rung, the song is begun in the 
 church. Let us not be late, dear" *^'"" '"• 
 
 Susset*;^; '" "''' ^t."*'""''' ""°"«f ">« downs of 
 
 Sussex, far across the sea. Then a look of nain 
 
 went over his face. He put up hi, hand, to wa d 
 
 off a blow, trembled, as the ble„ed dew of t«rs 
 
 he first m weeks, gathered in hi. eye.. He ."d 
 
 looking around, "Where am I?" ' 
 
 "In your own home. Colonel," cried Elli.. 
 
 Have I been ill?" 
 
 terZw!""'" '"^ ""'■ '"''"*'• •"" y"" •« ^■ 
 In a few day, he wa, mentally restored and 
 
CtLV'-FH. XX 
 
 An Inter, upteii V/cudi-ij 
 
 'THE homelike ruril n.^.. ,„., ^f „, , _ 
 
 bv h?!? "" '''u°f ""*'"«'' *'""'"'' in days gone 
 appearance in public after W. in! u ' "^"^ 
 
 This honey-hearted soldier was adviser to i„i» 
 
 tTe enf^ K.*^ ^' °"'^ "" *'°«°'-'» *'"" dicVum kept 
 the enfeebled warrior from the smitten hom^s "^ 
 
 mJj^ t-"^' '"'"' *"■' "^ *"" supplies and 
 made the hired man-Downey-drive the loild ?o 
 ^e W Bank, as the tenant distrLt wL caHed 
 
 4l".H t^""' ^'"^^ '°^ the Teedy 
 T would be worth a man's while." «ud Mi- 
 set 
 
262 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 L, M ,^ r"'"" °"' ''"y- "'° ^"" five mUe to 
 r.f^\ 'i'"'* "'"ributin- the clothing and fue" 
 and food to the poor people. 'Ned,' she fays 'take 
 that sack of flour to your mother. She 's [hi bes 
 breaa-n>aker in the row. Tell her to send the 
 
 pump. I II take ...r the butter meself.' 'Nan- 
 nie, she calls, 'could ye carry this jar of peach 
 
 Tell him the baker will be here with his rye-bread 
 >n one hour.' 'Dick,' says she agin, 'your toes 
 
 on at all Could ye draw on this pair of woolen 
 ones wh.le ye ate this apple, my son? Ye could? 
 Well, try it at once. Mrs. Murphy, how lone 
 would it take you to cut that flannel and makf 
 
 IZW ''I '?.' "" ^''"^y '*'"»? No more 
 than two hours? O, ye are me right hand, woman. 
 And while ye re at it, take this tea to Becky Ma- 
 goun, ancL widout me knowin' it, slip this tobaccy 
 to ould Daddy Biggs. Here's an overcoat w^H 
 Z^t 7°<'-''"ry"' '""' """"e "Ps and mittens 
 
 week ""'"* ^^^" '°^ "* "" '»" 
 
 "'What's in this basket, Aunty Morey? A 
 
 roasted turkey sure enough. Cut some meat from 
 
 the breast, and go up the alley to Nancy Newlin. 
 
 She sbeenhvm on gruel for two weeks. Oranges 
 
 Cornell Z ^°w.,"" P*°P'^ "' ■ B'"» 'hem ! 
 Come here, Mrs. Wilcox, take these four oranges 
 
 ,?fh f H° i**'" ^'"^ ^""™- She is sitting^u^ 
 n the bed this morning for the first time. I no- 
 ticed her lips are parched. Do you peel the fruit 
 
 Ml 
 
An Interrupted Wedding 263 
 
 and take out the sections, and feed them to her 
 yourself. You know how. It will heal her fever- 
 ish mouth. Here, boys, how many cookies will 
 your pockets hold? Fill them, and then wheel 
 these potatoes in that barrow along the back street 
 and give every one who asks a basketful. An' you' 
 Mr. Ragin, after you put on this worsted jacket 
 and have a drink of this fresh buttermilk, you will 
 help me get this meat to that perishin' German 
 family on the top floor, who lost their father yester- 
 day. You '11 have the grave ready for him at noon? 
 You will? Thank you. What would I do with- 
 out you?' 
 
 "An' so she goes on every day. O, sir, that 
 woman is a wonder— a mortal wonder I The way 
 she manages them and gets all the work done!" 
 
 The genial coachman kept the Colonel informed 
 of Laura's ministry, and took her the invitation to 
 £dith s wedding. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Satterlee," said she, "I can't be there. 
 1 am needed here every waking moment. Tell my 
 schoolmate— Edith— that I wish her all good 
 things m her wedded life. May her joy be as 
 deep in her new life as mine is here I Deeper ihere 
 IS none." 
 
 The Colonel was quietly happy, as he wel- 
 comed the guests, and very proud of his fair daugh- 
 ter, who was to be joined that night to the gallant 
 soldier who had saved him on the battlefield. 
 
 The men were reminiscent, and thought of 
 former marriage festivals; and the various ma- 
 trons were prophetic, looking into the future and 
 wbndering what weal or woe hung on this union 
 
2^ A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 Compli Jen ; ^Tei: or ^f";""^' *'« -•"«'■ 
 
 A few moments before the hour fixed for th. 
 nte, a cab came up to the door Tt,- u 
 heated, and had obviously ^1 J ""T' *" 
 Two gentlemen, evidently tot..! "" "'' "'^- 
 
 J. VV. BARTON, 
 
 OF 
 
 B*«TON, Sims & Allk», ^a.^^,_ 
 
 "I am glad to know yon Mr n,- 
 you come to see me on Zn^:;-^'^""- «'»« 
 
 "iZ'J'J' T *""'""' °' importance." 
 Certainly, sir; we need not hurry." 
 
An Intcrropted Wedding 265 
 
 the ^'' '^1, ''"l" "°"'"' '° "« P-rior to receive 
 ofthe wedding march flowed in at th; doo Td 
 •>»"< tipon It. came bride and groom Edhh w« 
 
 s'usrrlV""'^-- '"" ""^^"^ ^""it loTg 
 suspense and gnawing sorrow had been sn «„H 
 den that it acted on her like an intoSan t^ 
 byd pay eyes, full of sunshine, lighted ud a 
 cheeks anTr' '^"' "-"^^ w«h rose-tUt 'on 
 
 nair L 1 '''" "''" *^'^''^^ 'hem, only one 
 
 £^X:rrofS^^-ir 
 jew^prs^b^r^--^- 
 
 were irir^'^H ^''"' *■"= ''"^' -<» g^°o^ 
 r=H 7^"^ "■ "■"' *''" niurmurs of admiration 
 had d.ed mto silence, through which .he t r 
 
 wifhl -k" 'f "°^'' '=°"''' »" "'"d, he began, 
 se,^icef ""'*'''"' '° "^y '•'^ "■=''' historic 
 
 nn/^M™ assembled here in the sight of God 
 
 woma'i il :r r '"'""• '° "■"'«= '"if man ani 
 woman m the holy estate of matrimony. There- 
 
 Ihn?iH T.°"'. "" '''°'^ J"^f cause why they 
 should not be joined, let him now speak-" ^ 
 
 ment. The stillness deepened. Attention was 
 
266 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 trained. And he raised his head to begin again, 
 whena voice outspolce, sharply: 
 
 "I forbid this marriage. It must stop " 
 
 ^ fJv"'' * ''''°''"' °' «^*'P' ''•°'" the women, 
 abozz of amazement from the men. The trust- 
 W g^aduess died out of Edith's eyes, and EUis 
 wared at the speaker wonderingly 
 
 r; J,' "" A "^ ''"'^"- ^"•°''' *''° ^°'^'^'^ ">= m"- 
 
 ,T, t'» , f '/P"* '°™"'' ^"'1 '"""•'d Philip, 
 the lat er looiced at the minister, and said, "Go 
 on, sir. 
 
 "It wcwid be wrong to go on," he replied, 
 until we hear this man, who challenges the law- 
 fulness of this marriage." Then, turning to Bar- 
 ton, What IS the legal hindrance, sir?" 
 
 "Let me speak a few moments, and I will make 
 U clear. My name is Barton, of Barton, Sims & 
 Alen at orneys, of New York. Three years ago 
 our English correspondents wrote us concerning 
 two chiWren, male and female, who had inherited 
 a Welsh estate through their mother. She had 
 married a British army officer, who proved a 
 scapegrace and ran off with a stage dancer, leav- 
 
 To hide her dishonor, she fled to America. Be- 
 ing in poverty this well-born woman of rich family 
 was compelled to take passage in a sailing ves- 
 sel with few passengers. On the long voyage the 
 broken-hearted mother died, and wfs b'ur^d at 
 
 um m New York on landing. No one had heard 
 the woman s name on the ship, and the boy could 
 only bruise a few worii. on his lisping lips 
 
An Interrupted Wedding 267 
 
 Philip Elhs. So the children were called Ellis; 
 and when my f„end. Hon. James Fisher, of Lon- 
 
 task. After long search we found the sister, who 
 was a schoolteacher in New York, but only lately 
 got on track of the brother. We learned he went 
 into the army but lost all trace of him after that. 
 By chance I learned that he came here with his 
 lt"r\"' '^V'°'' °' "•' *"•""<» we came to 
 
 We a^r ; ^'"'" '''°'" '''' P"^-"" ''•'Ode. 
 We arrived a few minutes before the wedding I 
 stepped to the door, and whispered to a lady ask- 
 »g the groom's name. She said, 'Philip Ellis ' I 
 was startled and, for a moment, stunned He was 
 unwittingly about to wed undei- a false name I 
 
 victim of such a mistake, so I spoke up and stop- 
 ped the service. ^ 
 
 Pi.-I'^r.i"..^'"' S^«"*'«"'en, this groom is not 
 Phihp Ellis,but Philip Elliott,of Glamorr^n Wales 
 heir to an ancient and honorable name and con- 
 siderable estate, which awaits him jointly with his 
 sister. All of which I have the documents with 
 me to prove Mr. Fisher, please step forward." 
 
 Fisher did so, and drew from a portfolio a 
 "Tu,"u °J ''^'"P^'' «"d signed papers, which 
 estabhshed Barton's statements beyond all gain- 
 saying. . " 
 
 "Now," said Barton, "let the wedding go on 
 All IS clear and straightforward now " 
 
 His every word bore out his story. No one 
 could doubt Its veracity, and, after a moment, 
 
•68 
 
 A Modem ApoUos 
 
 conscious pride "Wkt hi ""r''' '" » '"^ "' 
 all my world"; „oods I th" ""J """ *'"= *'"' 
 for my wife, for better nr °*' ""'' ''^' '^^ 
 
 tHum?H^Hrv£r;tn''rH' ■'•■'"-' 
 
 through the air "iL .u . °' gladness swept 
 
 .on/a^Xy te^dtfe^?"''' "°' *""'"« ^^ '^ 
 tafW "iZ? :"f ,°' ~"P-atulatio„s and felici- 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Barbara Lawson Abducted 
 
 'pHE home of Alexaader La„so„, the Delhurst 
 most pretentious in the place It JIT ■ „ 
 
 viou^ in . ;«. ^"""^ '""'' "•' '=°"«=' '"'e ob- 
 
 manage the multiplied affairs c;m.S«ed to him 
 
 and forn,,^ T """"y ''°""'' ^"^ewhat rigid 
 equity, and given to admiration of the past. He 
 
"70 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 liked the customs of dead years an^ i- 
 -nddre. betrayed H. prediCK a" a^S 
 
 Hedged with"rto':X whE iLt 
 
 th. 'anily while h^ '""^k"^ "" ""S"""? '°' 
 n.e..s sa!| J.''^h, '°".'"''"''d ''"ly of his 
 
 be done discreetly, decently, and in good fo m " 
 mJnl^ P""" h'» good financial^ecord "is 
 
 quaE''o7bTpar:„,f"'',°l'''« "^ -«»' 
 bearing and her mother ' K *■" "^''' P"'"""" 
 
 haze lay on tLe bluff. Z ^"*''" '"'""'" 
 
 -.of ereter^f^rr^r;^-, J- 
 late robm was chirping in the dahUa-bfd. The 
 
Barbara Lawson Abducted 271 
 
 Soo.' "tu' "'"^ '°"'''''' '"' f"-°ff tinted 
 tree-top,, and the wan,, south wind was laden with 
 
 w°r tr ' '"'"■" °' ''^ *"^ '^'- °"'' 
 
 Uwwn""" '' *" '•°«'-*°*-'"ir «?" a»ked Mr,. 
 
 i. ll\^'"^ *" " ''"'''"«^ »' '">« Minty' Barney 
 is «t the gate and seem, inclined to come in ™ "^ 
 Shut up, ye gomerill Bad manner, to yel" 
 Folf was say,ng to the canine guardian "or I'll 
 knocK ,ivin kind, o' yelp, out o' ye 2 th oe 
 o me brogue I What willabaloo have ye now ? Be 
 
 I w."" '°""'"' °' ' '" "p ''°"" °" y« t~«. «o 
 
 thelt".'',''.':;:" """'''• ^'"-'^ •="'"' "- *° 
 
 .tacZ'' h'°'"' ''"^ !f' P'""y '"^Sin- an' turf 
 •tackin. How are ye all, shure?" 
 
 "u\7t\^'u ^°"y-,«"» " J"dy, your wifer 
 
 It ,9 well ,he „. Tubte sure, she cries, un- 
 
 bek„own,t to me, fer her ould home away over 
 
 the broad ocean <n Mayo-God bless usi-but I 
 
 woiild n't stir a fut to go there at all." 
 
 Why not, Barney?" 
 
 "Bekase ye 'd not see a floury pitaty mebbe 
 onct .„ h, ,^^^ ^^ ^.^ y^ P y mebbe 
 
 along w,d a sup o' milk. Judy is ginerilly all righ" 
 on y when I come rowlin' home in the mornin' ful 
 o poeen^ Then, begorra, she's as cross as a 
 weasel. But it 's all the one thing to me : wimmen 
 have a g,ft ,0 talk, ye know; and Judy is a da- 
 Tern r^X' '"" *^" '"^ ^°- »• ^^^ to 
 
*7« A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 "What have you to uU to-<Uy?" 
 I have ony . wheen o' cretie., an' a ha'- 
 ^rth o w,„.ergree„ berri..; but they are ^t 
 «er $ale. I am not a Mintv now Ti. . 
 
 A talk with me?" said Mi.i Lawion "Of 
 course you may talk all you plea.e I know yS. 
 are a Wend of the family. Barney " ^ 
 
 'Shure, I would be if I had a chanjf but I 
 know me place. Me clothe. look like ."ca'retow 
 in a turmp-patch; but the knot on the end^ 
 me n«k is right as a trivet, an' me heart wo„"d .^t 
 ha-a-rum no livin' soul " 
 
 Barbi;:; Ss^emd'" """' '"''"" '"' ''°'"*' ""<• 
 "What is on your mind, Mr. Foley?" 
 
 T „= 'V""' ""'""■ °"""' "e '«' thrip East 
 I was colloqum with Beverly Ronan, an' saJ^n' yer 
 presence, we was talkin' about yerself." ^ 
 
 Mr. Ronan and I are not so friendly a. we 
 were, Barney," said Barbara. ^ ' 
 
 "Shure," speculated "the Minty," "ye are not 
 innemies at all, at all?" ^ 
 
 as she'renlieS"' "v""'""^' ""'' *"" '^^ "•°»'"ed. 
 as She rephed: 'No, no, not enemies. I shall al- 
 ways be g-eat,y interested in my schoolm te and 
 watch h., career, with pride in his achievements » 
 M.SS Uwson," said Foley, as he locked L 
 
Barbara Lawion Abducted 273 
 
 finger, of both hand, over one knee and tit>.rf 
 back on .he ,u.,ic bench: "I beg ye'' SL ^^ 
 bem .mpydent. that i.. if I ,„ ijpydem'but I 
 WMt to pt one thing through me thatch. May 
 
 ^ue:^::^'!!:^^'-^- ""^-p'op*' 
 
 "Do you stiU love Mr. Ronan?" 
 
 .n/th' *'"'"' ^^°°'^ '"°""'"^ '» 'heek and brow. 
 .W^f ^'^" *•'''='' "'•''' '° "-e far-off hill, 
 Jhot tender gleam, from under their long lashe, 
 
 .wered: "" ' '"' "°' ""'"""'• " »"« »" 
 "Mr Ronan and I have broken our correspond- 
 '^M- ""' "" """" ^ "«"'8''t he was." 
 
 auench.'H ff '^.- ^"^ "L"*"" "" "P" "' *•" ""- 
 
 K-'pS?"' ""' ""• " "' '"O" » '"- 
 "Did you write him that note. Mi., Law.on?" 
 bhe read the forged epistle with deep concern 
 
 and .aid, quietly, "I did not." concern, 
 
 vou'^wm"" ""''"'' "''" 'y*'''""':'" writin' from 
 you, w.d yer name to it, and he think, you are 
 stone cold to him now." 
 
 "Some enemy ha. done this,' murmured the 
 maiden. "I could not be .0 cruel." 
 
 "I knew it, ma'am. I knew it. I am heart 
 scalded by this double misery. Beverly Tves yot 
 an mver loved anny other in the wide world " 
 
 Are you certain, Mr. Foley?" 
 "I am His heart lepped whin I talked about 
 you, and he praised you above all mortal wimmen. 
 
 18 
 
MKaocorr •isoiution tbt chaut 
 
 (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 1^ lil 
 
 A APPLIED IM/IGE In. 
 
 165 J Eail Main Street 
 
 Rochtjior. New Yotli 14609 US* 
 
 (716) '02 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 (7ie) 2Ba- 5989 -To. 
 
274 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 ;;How did you get this letter, Barney?" 
 as.;^. Heaven V;:™VL^?t..^^"'"^'° 
 
 Wtai I., I d„ „ ,|j|„ n J ,,. 
 "d m.bW .om. l«,™..d „„„, „ II, ji ™' 
 
 »=^,i"prSir--»V:5 
 
Barbara Lawson Abducted 275 
 
 almost bv!^"r''=^'"^ in-gnificant small life 
 
 ta., n- ^ "°°'' "'''" ^""""S^ ''='"• ^''"^hin' some 
 lufof .h^T'? 5°^"''"' =■"' "'«^'""' 'he leader 
 
 o suffer h.1^ T ^"".'"' ^' '""^'^ "''« I ^-» 
 he 7uel^ \^^' ^""""'^ '""''■ I' seemed 
 
 he 1 ked Ronan, who onct sarved him well, an' he 
 daytarmined to return the favor by savin' me if 
 
 Tthe hoi '''h'" T ^''''' "^^^ '-- ^^^ 
 o the hole where I was to be flung, he whispefed 
 
 hink, r"h " '" '""''• °''^y ""'■' 'Begorra/ 
 thmks I here .s me petition answered in the nick 
 o t.me.' 'Whin I shoot,' sez he. 'do ye 111 Tat 
 
 m LnT -7" "f '^ -^"'^ "-^ '°^^^ 'ha. held 
 a"ont 'T "^ '^ P°^'^'='-'^"ife, as we slowly walked 
 along. Twas more 'n half dark where we stood, 
 
 roa ,„• ""; ° "'' FT- ""' ^ "^"-^ '"^^ 'he wather 
 roann Delow an' whm he shot the pistol beside 
 me head .t fa.rly deefened me. I screamed like a 
 banshee, and fell fiat behind h.m; an' while the 
 
 off inLT' 'Trl '° ""^ >"'P'"' ^^hoes, I made 
 off mto the thick dark. On'y fer that felly bein' 
 so oxy, „ebbe 't s in Chiny I 'd be now. I dinnaw. 
 
 hlnTn "■"" ^"'^ '° "'^ "ght, actin' shaky and 
 hanted an' askm' fer a drink o' bug-juice An' 
 soon they all wint off. An' musha me but 't was 
 dark; a bushel o' black cats is a chandyleer to it. 
 You cud take a handful o' that darkness, like soot, 
 an wash yer face wid it I An' that still, yer smallest 
 
276 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 ! I 
 
 breatn sounded like ye wuz dyin' wid asmy. I 
 didnt dare to stir fer what seemed the butt-end 
 o a year, but 't was on'y three hours, ati' I saw me 
 irind comm wid a torch. 
 
 " 'Hullo, Irish ?' he called, an' I run out to meet 
 nim, rejoicing bravely. 
 
 "^ 'Hush !' sez he ; 'yer supposed to be dead,' sez 
 he an walkin' shoe-mouth deep in brimstone, 
 where ye cud light yer pipe wid any hair o' ver 
 head. He laughed a long while, an' sez, 'They 
 think yer buried widout any wake at all,' sez he; 
 an ye have no thought of it,' sez he. "Tis far 
 from ye,' he sez. 'Sit down here where we played 
 s£ven-up, an' I '11 tell ye all about this uproar,' sez 
 he. Onct the law forced me to let a doctor put 
 poison into our baby's arrum,' he sez, 'an' it rotted 
 my darlin' till his swate sowl wim out,' he sez; an' 
 wid that he began to cry, an', begorra, I cried too. 
 I cursed the law— the damnable law,' he sez 'I 
 wanted to throttle it,' he sez; 'double-blast it!* 
 he sez From that hour I was agin it,' he sez. 
 An the on y man that gave me a worrud o' cheer 
 or a helpin' hand wuz Mr. Ronan,' he sez 'An' 
 I helped you to-day fer his sake,' he sez. 'He 's 
 the doggondest best man that ever lived,' he sez 
 as sure as yer a foot high.' ' 
 
 " 'What are ye doin' among Deynell's buck- 
 aneersp'Iaxedhim. 
 _ '''Well, Mike,' he sez, 'or whatever yer name 
 
 '^i-uu ',"' '}} ''" y*- ^ '•" t""^ ''"t "e^hanic in 
 Millbank, ef I do say it meself,' he sez. 'An' one 
 of his outfit heard me cussin' the law,' he sez; 'an' 
 needin a man to fix their presses, he thinks I will 
 
Barbara Lawson Abducted 277 
 
 join 'em, if they pay me big money,' ht sez. 'So 
 he names it to me slyly, an' I go in,' he sez. 'Thev 
 neeJ my work, an" pay me well, but I wish I was 
 out of It,' he sez. 'I tould 'em I was siclc to-niglit 
 wid what I did to you,' he sez. 'an' could n't work 
 fer a few hours, an' here I am !' he sez. 'Now 
 come on wid me, an' I 'II get you outside the skin 
 
 thj world; an' I want one favor from you,' he 
 sei. 'Rape mum about this fer two months; then 
 
 1 11 be far from here. Look at that money,' he 
 sez showin' a roll o' bills. 'That 's tree hunderd 
 dollars I got fer killin' ye,' he sez; 'fer castin' ye 
 mter the mnards o' the airth,' he sez. 'Skip out o' 
 these diggins fer awhile. Larry tould the folks at 
 the tavern ye wuz gone home; he tould the truth 
 unbeknownst, fer ye are goin' there.' Whin we 
 got near out o' the den, he sez: 'Flaherty, or what- 
 ever yer name is,' he sez, 'we must go mity smooth 
 at the entrance to this pigsty. The outside guard 
 IS a strappin', double-fisted Naygur, an' we must 
 sneak past him, fer he cud kill both of us.' 
 
 "It was hazy dark, just before dawn, an' we got 
 out o' the stable aisy. In the woods h;; shook my 
 hand, and said good-bye.. Tat,' he sez, 'tell Ronan 
 we re even now,' an, back he went, an' I got to 
 town and kem West on the train. Is n't it a quare 
 tale, ain't it ?" 
 
 "Passing strange," commented Barbara. "Have 
 you any suggestions to make concerning Mr Ro— 
 Beverly?" 
 
 "I have this," replied "the Minty." "He is 
 coming home to-day, on the four o'clock stage- 
 coach, so his mother tould me this marnin'. If ye 
 
 1 1 J • I 
 
*78 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 
 cud happen to be at his house when he arrives and 
 give him a chanst to explain, I think ye cud fer- 
 give the bye, and let bygones be bygones." 
 
 "I will think it over carefully. At least, I must 
 see him while he is here. How lone will he be 
 in Delhurst ?" 
 
 "That I dinnaw," said the pilgrim, taking up 
 his empty basket. "I think he will shtop here onV 
 a little time. Good-bye to ye the day." 
 
 As he went away, she thought of the past, 
 and pondered what her duty was when he came 
 home. 
 
 "At least," she cogitated, "he asked me to re- 
 lease him, and it would be unwomanly to meet 
 him in his mother's house. He will call to see 
 me. 11 he still loves me he will; if not, I do not 
 want to see him." 
 
 That afternoon she dressed in her daintiest 
 gown, put on the ornaments he liked best, and de- 
 lib>;rately let her thoughts ramble backward into 
 the fond old days when every orj.lish fancy linked 
 her future with his. About five o'clock, her heart 
 gave a great bound, as shj .aw him lift the 
 latch of the gate, and %tep up the wide walk 
 just as he used to. A little heavier, she noted, 
 and more settled; a touch of dignity, a calm' 
 reserve, yet the same athletic form, with coil- 
 ing muscles, moving easily under his close-but- 
 toned coat. The same steady poise, and the 
 suggestion of strength, which made him the village 
 Hercules when handling unruly steeds at his 
 father's trade. As he came near, she saw sadness 
 in his face, and noted how pale he was. He wore 
 
Barbara Lawson Abducted 279 
 
 the air of one going to perform a stern duty 
 which could not be shirked. A scarlet spot burned 
 in each cheek, and she resolved to greet him 
 quietly, yet kindly; to show no sense of wrong, 
 yet wait for his apology, which she felt would not 
 long be delayed. 
 
 Their eyes met, and she was about to speak, 
 when Mr. Lawson rushed out of the house, rail- 
 ing loudly at Ronan : 
 
 "Stop, sir! halt where you are!" 
 Ronan, in his rich voice, with the old thrill in 
 it, said, "May I not come in, sir?" 
 
 "No, sir!" roared Lawson. "You can never 
 enter this house again. Begone !" 
 
 "Can I not speak with you, or your daughter ?" 
 "No, sir ; you can not !" his wrath was towering 
 every instant. "Leave my premises, I say !" 
 
 "Why am I driven out like a dog?" asked 
 Ronan, with a trace of warmth and a lifting of 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "Because you are a dog; a heartless puppy! 
 You made love to Barbara for years, and then 
 cast her off when it pleased your fancy to do so. 
 You have no honor, no manhood, no character! 
 You are a fool, and a dangerous deceiver ! I liked 
 you once, but now I despise you ! I hate the siglif 
 of you ! Leave, I say, or it will be worse for you !" 
 Beverly stood his ground, saying quietly: "I 
 have done wrong, Mr. Lawson. Let me ask for- 
 giveness for it.-' 
 
 This was like oil poured in fjame, that shot up 
 furiously. Lawson was always a choleric man, 
 and now he was beside himself with rage. 
 
28o 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 hypo^rit'eT s! IV?' ^°" """^-f'ced. meechin 
 
 with h ! i.. T '1'° *"' '■°°'"' »"<« tame out 
 wth h.s shotgun; but hi, wife and daughter clune 
 
 "//e7 Lid b' ^'T^^.'^" '° ''^" ''"' R°" "" 
 murder Yo„ nT^' >" ""^ '" " '"°°'' '° d° 
 
 On this the clergyman walked out leaving th, 
 
 v^Yet tor't "■"'"' °' •'"tructionlKn 
 ever set foot on his property again. 
 
 lent H/Jr'f"' I*"' '"°'"*y'* '"-""y *a» si- 
 
 lette^ wh.ch both her mother and father had read 
 
 garden Th'!f '"' ""'"• '•"= ^^^ -'° 'he 
 ^roen. The sky was now overcast with mackerel 
 douds. and the moth-colored twilight wafflutr 
 >ng down on the earth. What should she do? 
 
 tfon of tttm^- l" '""' """^ *° "'"^ ^ '"'°ra- 
 not le he ° r,;- ^"' '■" '"'"""' "'°<'"'y 'vould 
 
 "Mother, what would you do?" she asked. 
 The experienced yet puzzled matron weighed 
 thequestion some time, and said • ^ 
 
 at tJrr'i^V'' "•' ^'""'"'' F^'ival to-night 
 
 P om bed He J°TT '="' ^°"^ P"'' - '- 
 ta and n T ' "''''■ '^""^ f^'her will be 
 absent, and perhaps you may exchange a few 
 
Barbara Lawwn Abducted a8i 
 
 word, unnoticed. I would n't let him go off hopc- 
 
 Ie»8. I like him, in spite of all." ™ "opc 
 
 But Ronan was not at the Festival ,^.i u j 
 
 Sh'n",? V"«'" °" 'he RS"''';;"t:X 
 
 Shall Not Ring To-night." Nor did he see Bar 
 bara, .n her royal robes, as "Queen of the Year " 
 
 t„ r'n ".-''"P"'-''P '^"''» '° 'he SundayJcho;! 
 tobe distributed on Thanksgiving-day among the 
 
 was^hetL*".' ""I^"""' *'"■ •"" ""'h". she 
 r«ch h' " «"' '" °'""'"'' "d '°"g«d to 
 
 S oneaT""'"''" ''""•= ''"'°"-'- 
 
 thri'^J".!"''/""™'' * ^'""d ""iage drove 
 anHL ? ''^'.°' ""= ''"^"- -" hahed in a 
 
 duVof'.o™t'r;hl" '';,"""'°" °' "^ 
 
 Marlev J^ V ,? u "" "'hicle was Major 
 son l^M " ''"""-''"ded, burly ruffian. The 
 
 a splav'f^ted" TT"''"" '^ ^°"^P"" Blinn. 
 a splay-footed, colossal river thug, and was intent 
 on doing the will of Deynell b/'kidna^ng' Ba . 
 
 her ,i;rr' """. "'' "^'"^ ''°'='°^ 4h^ gain 
 her smiles by rescuing her from the clutches of her 
 
 twrh "■m""/'^"'' "^"^ '° ••= "■« forged wm 
 which would make him Colonel Satterlee's fegatee. 
 
 .,.-H Z . ""^^^ °"" ''*"'' "^»h 'he ofher," 
 
 said the cunmng physician. "You help me, and 
 I will help you, you understand ?" 
 
 'he spy had reported to Marley the probable 
 whereabouts of Miss Lawson, and his plan was to 
 seize her in her room. Access to the house wis 
 easy, as Touser had followed the women to The 
 Festival. Mr. Lawson was at the Masonic Lodge 
 
:il 
 
 h 
 
 aSa A Modern Apolloi 
 
 •nd only an old servant wa, at home. She ... 
 
 Sund^ th'" ~"'*'""'«) '-P' "P the back 
 
 porcn. Hidinp ,n a closet, he heard mother an,I 
 dau,h.. re..„; and soon Mi. Uwsontame^' 
 
 be^^°^r "" '^°°: ""'* '°^'''"e "• 'he sat down. 
 Shf L Z'?' '"'' ""' =~" ^°'"""S violenUy 
 
 throat A ^ • •"" '''' '""«'' hand to her 
 
 ainted H^ ' ''" ""'^'' '"'° " ^"'P- ""d she 
 
 orrilo her f ^^ " T°"^' '"'""'''' ^''h ^^oro- 
 Jorm o her face a few moments, he lifted her 
 
 aTJd . ): ""'■^i' ''°°^' ""'^ --' swiftly ac OS,' 
 
 an'/lo Ld dor^at th'"''^ •'^^. '' O^^Wrn 
 „n ,, 1 ^ "' ""= unconscious face. 
 
 h,«7/^"'T " ^ «^°°'' J"''S^«' °f 'e--ale beauty" 
 he said. "Let us be off qu.-ck " ^' 
 
 that'^L"'.' ?J"'?' ''""■'"<* '"'° ">« 'one'/ road 
 .rM u"'" "'"' ^°"*y ''"'cWed, "• earned 
 that three hundred easy, did n-t I. pard'" 
 
 of thuTob':- ' '"' ' '""'=" *° "'•''^ thousands out 
 
 When the attorney's household were astir th. 
 
 ZcT"7: ^"""^ "'^ "°' -swer h te t 
 
 'emp V " The'd '"°"'"' ^°''"' '° "^^ --• f-n" 
 
 XKs^r^-r;^--.;; 
 
Barbae Lawion Abducted 283 
 dreited. There w - «„ .- < 
 could it all meanT" Vhe T ." T^^^'' ^^'"" 
 
 I» Beverly in- he queried. 
 
 aboufle";^ nil.'" "°"'"- '■«« -« ou, 
 yet returned "' ^ ' "''"^ "'^"""«^' ""'» ha, not 
 
 an.'S:^:?;iLX,";^^-;^-ra 
 
 P'tymet My only child has T^ l"""" 
 
 -J-dHerU,---7---e 
 
 How do you know this?" asked his Jouse 
 corn iM^:: ::,r,^,^'^'f' ^ ""'e clmon. 
 
 She departed air ess /""rI;'" '" «°"^- 
 n.-ne U.st ni.ht. PutTht fa^ the^ "'" ^ 
 
 "t' r J"."""^^ '° '"™ '° hatred 
 
 ing PharS. Go7h", "^' "' °' '°' '"=" -"^- 
 
 :f^;etu^^ss;^,r-^-- 
 
 h« daughter owned, carried th'en, a^sTthri^ 
 
«84 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 ^l 
 
 to the fence, and flung them into the mud of th< 
 highway; nor did he desi.t till everything belong- 
 ing to Barbara wai hurled away. 
 
 mJ7'" ""^ *"«"• '° come «nd get them, 
 mother; we have no child now. This is our re- 
 ward for a life', devotion. May all the devils 
 ipeed her now. and may I never look upon her 
 face again r "^ 
 
 •1^! 
 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 On Folly Island 
 
 B^f^P^Y^ '"'""°" "'•«" '"ving his 
 Zn """' °" "" *^'"'"8 of the abduc- 
 
 tion, was to return in a few hours. 
 
 Minf''"""!."'"' """•'' '" ""= *'-"«i°n of "the 
 M\nT- ""'• " *"= """•'"• "' "rooded 
 that LvV \T'^^ '""'"""' ''' •'*'' '«"-«d 
 that day from Mr. Uwson. His knitted brows 
 and knotted hands showed he was contender wUh 
 warrmg emotions, and several times he , ped 
 and faced about, as if intending to seek the ' -r 
 
 .>td'''j:ra;.r'''"'''''"°"'^''"°'^' 
 
 He found Barney at home, and asked him to 
 light his lantern and walk down to the river bank 
 where he read to him the letter of the dead co„ 
 
 kem^f ^ T' '""'' "' '"•^^"""•e. and under his in- 
 dent ThfT ""' ".""''' °' ^"-"^""^ "n'i- 
 ^uL 'V ^: ^°T^."' " •'°' """'""' ^"h natives 
 of the tight httle isle across the say." 
 
 said : '"''""' '° "" <*°'="'"«« ^"th delight, and 
 
 '"Tis a quare letter, tubbe share. It minds 
 
 me o- the tale, o' the Wicklow Glens, in the days 
 
r 
 
 286 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 o* the risin'. when Smith O'Brien was to the fore. 
 What will ye do about it, Bev?" 
 
 tJ'^',"'"., "'"'"'."'" P""""' "^ ^^ nonplused. 
 I scarcely know what my duty is." 
 
 h..7^^l ^ Slieveen's advice; 'tis as chape as 
 Je c'an™ '""^ ^*' '^' """"^y ''^ '°°n "» 
 
 "But, Mr. Foley, it is not my money." 
 'Vhat nonsense have ye? Shure, 't is as much 
 yours as anny wan's, an' small good 'tis doin' 
 there retorted the Emeralder. "Some liberrather 
 should set that money free, an' give it a chanst to 
 ao some sarvice fer some wan." 
 
 BiT^yr ^°" ^° "'"' *"* °" *''' "Pedition, 
 "Faith, I'd like uawthin' better; but to-marra 
 Light I must be on the road with a herd o' 
 cattle. If I go at all, it must be to-night, and be 
 back to-morra." 
 
 "Have we time enough for the job?'' asked 
 Ronan. 
 
 "Lashins o' time. There is a boat just below, 
 I used when I was a "minty," an' went fishin' 
 fer catfish m the slough over there. I have the 
 use of it at anny time from Mulvihill. The night 
 IS young, an' we can drop down to Folly Island 
 before midnight, an' dig up the stuff, whativer it 
 IS, an be back by noon to-morra. There 's an ould 
 spade at the landin'; I digged worms wid it fer 
 fishin'. Let us be off wid ourselves." 
 
 "I wish I had told the folks at home I would 
 be out all night. I could make the fugue with no 
 misgivings then." 
 
On Folly Island 
 
 "Niver mind," said the 
 
 287 
 
 eager tramp. "If 
 
 ,'™ 7" .? °°' ""* "> "" «im. "Ill ll.t *c.. 
 lowhammers rapped on the gable lintels all The 
 
288 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 .ummer through. A few months before the mid- 
 
 rented, and once or twice a small skiff had gone 
 over from the northern shore. 
 
 islaifn "'!• '*? "P'""" "" ''°'"' •'"We the 
 sland cautiously, a steamboat came chuffing up in 
 the far channel. The light from her jackstfff and 
 the Hir^Vfu"" '"""'"* '° P°''y ""d Ronan 
 Ca.i •* . M ^°"'*• '■'•* '" *''' ""I' vegetation. 
 Catchmg hold of a bush, "the Minty" held the 
 batteau agamst the bank, while they studied the 
 ay of the land. The house was closely scanned- 
 the broken wmdows and unpainted doors, the 
 rotting arbors and weatherbeaten verandas 
 
 Foley noted that one side of the house was 
 close to the water, and a piazza, with much scroll 
 work and fancy railing, projected over the stream. 
 1 he heavy stone steps were mossgrown, and the 
 brick walks choked with weeds. When the steamer 
 
 s'l.ll^L ''•/•"" '■"' ''""'*<' '" the stream 
 shined out again amid the waves of its wake like 
 a prairie of wind-cuffed blossoms, Ronan whis- 
 pered to his partner, saying: 
 
 "There is a light in a room on the far side of 
 
 t£eiat"er!" "" '" '" '"""" ''"'"' '""'"« °" 
 "Thrue for ye," observed Barney. "Some one 
 
 •s l.vin there. The bosthoons have a quare risi- 
 
 dence; but every man to his taste, as the ould 
 
 woman said whin she kissed the cow." 
 
 ■mo do you suppose it is?" asked Beverly 
 
 ♦h,. !ri"^ "''""'''"'' "*""= ^'"'y" "« w« knew 
 that, and had our stirabout, we might go to bed 
 
On Folly Island jg. 
 
 Look out for the brush, now I'll i-. .u 
 
 drift fer a bit." ' ' " '*' ^^' yawl 
 
 thetr L"L,Tnat "T "'" ""' "^ " '"" "' 
 a shelving shore of ;nd and th'" "" ''""' '"'° 
 in. the. Lst bt I^h; '^liX^T °"' ^■'"'^■ 
 
 -o.ei^lHors'^S[r-^^.;- 
 want anny wan pryin' about " We do n t 
 
 saw m the lantern's glow, a bundle of banknotes 
 »9 
 
ago 
 
 A Modf-n Apollos 
 
 , hnJ""' °l°"' """ ^^"^- ^"'^ 'hey knew that 
 a boat was bemg pulled from the town to the 
 
 a din, lantern therein. Two men were in it. One 
 hts\[Z'"^'i'^''" °"'"J-"«<' - '"ge burden in 
 iu tT Ju'^ """' ^""^"^ '°' ^ "I'"''' '""ding 
 just above the treasure-seekers. They conversed 
 
 scenhy"'""""' '" ''"^'^' ''"'"''"^ "''^ °''- 
 lifte^lT "''\'^"''^''' "-^ '°wer, a giant in size, 
 
 e™', eVf '""" ""^ °"'"' ''"''• '" 'he lan- 
 terns feeble gl.mmer. the two men in hiding could 
 see that .t was the form of a woman. 
 
 Swiftly they hurried into the copse toward the 
 
 ther;\f " °' ^"'P""™"^ ^P"'^'' -^'<-g behind 
 them as they went out of sight 
 
 th»^r7'^ ^^"^ ^ '^^'P ^"''-consciousness that 
 they had seen part of a great crime. 
 
 JWhat does that mean, Barney?" 
 
 "Shure, t:.e sorra a know I know; but I sus- 
 picion th,m two haythins are up to no good, this 
 
 Hahrh""'"''"^ Go home and count old 
 
 thpr'^.!'"''" ^'^^^''""'y- firmly. "Me ould fay- 
 ther, heaven be his bed, tould me to help anny 
 woman m distress ; and, be all the sainrs, we mus^ 
 be afther these midnight blackguards. £et us pu 
 back t IS plunder fer the prisint; we kin return 
 fer ,t m due to.me, and follow that couple of 
 yahoos to the house. They hev weepins. no d'oubt 
 niver fear. 
 
 age to hould 'em hard an' fast." 
 
 I man- 
 
On FoUy Island 
 
 291 
 
 "All right," said Ronan ; "I am with you. Per- 
 l.aps we can rescue her; but we must beware of 
 rashness. Let us reconnoiter carefully " 
 
 When close to the house they lurked a mo- 
 
 river '""^ ^ "" "^^ ^°'^^ ""' '° 'he 
 
 The criminals, feeling themselves wholly safe 
 
 m their island refuge, had taken no precaution 
 
 against eavesdroppers. The sound of low laughter 
 
 "dicated. '=°"''"^="'°'' "-^ f™-" the room 
 
 "Let us '-ave our shoes here, and our coats," 
 
 said Beverly. "That creaky gallery will betray 
 
 us unless we walk like cats." ^ 
 
 "Right ye are," quoth Foley. "I am wid ye, 
 
 now. I am lightest, Beverly; let me do a stunt 
 
 o spym' fer meself." 
 
 Over the moldering floor of the rickety bal- 
 cony crept the courageous "Minty," till he could 
 peep through the broken slat of a shutter, and 
 survey the place. 
 
 It was a large, square dining-room, and had 
 once been handsomely appointed. The walls were 
 paneled in oak, and girders crossed the ceiling- a 
 wainscoting ran round the apartment. 
 
 Five persons were there. On a couch lay the 
 captive, whose face he could not see. A wrinkled 
 woman with a complexion like the skin side of a 
 flitch of bacon, her hard face made harder by one 
 bhnd eye, sat near the sufferer; while a shock- 
 headed boy was placing food on the table The 
 two kidnapers sat on a settee by the far wall, and 
 
aw 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 Marley wa, counting out some money in the hand 
 of the rascal called "Boney." 
 
 to f °''^,'"'T "°"' °' «he persons, and was about 
 to retreat when the girl turned her aazed face, 
 drawn with pain, to the lamp; and Barney's heart 
 
 KrLzr' "'"■"•■ " "•"' ■•■■" 
 
 sur7 Wk'^"' ^J- ''""'" ''" '^<' "^ this thrip, 
 sure. Who d'ye think the leddy is?" 
 
 "I have no idea, Barney." 
 
 "No wan but Barbara Lawson. The rascallions 
 have s, ,ien her from home, and she that wake wid 
 drugs si.e can t spake or lift her head I" 
 
 Ronan leaned against a tree for support, his 
 
 bram seethmg. The earth seemed to rock beneath 
 
 hm, Barbara he moaned; "my own dear Bar- 
 
 "i-/"™*' ^"'"^^ '^' "^ 8o in and save her." 
 
 a plan. Wan o' the woman-stalers is a big. dark 
 s^ouchy tarner. as strong as a hickory saplin', wid' 
 muscle^ m his flat chest like the ropes o' a ship. 
 The ither IS a mite bigger 'n I am. The boy will 
 not lift a finger; but the ould she-wolf may be dan- 
 gerous. Would you think it best to drop down 
 to the city and git the poUce, or tackle the crew 
 ourselves ? 
 
 _ Ronan was boiling with rage, and answered: 
 No man can tell what will befall Miss Lawson in 
 the hour or two we would waste getting the ofli- 
 cers here. Let us attack them at once " 
 
On Folly Island 293 
 
 "All hunk, me hearty I" whispered Barney 
 whose Donnybrook blood was up. "But mind 
 two things: Keep cool and steady, and rush them 
 hard at the' start." 
 
 When each had selected a stout club from the 
 woodpile behind the kitchen, they climbed the 
 damp stairs, and crept to the door of the liehted 
 room. 
 
 "Peep through, and get your bearings," whis- 
 pered Ronan. after a long look. "Leave the big 
 fellow to me; you take the other thief, and show 
 no mercy to the vermin. Now, Barney I" 
 
 With a crash, they threw themselves against 
 the door, and an ear-splitting yell woke the silent 
 chambers of the mansion, as they rushed in. Both 
 the desperadoes were startled ; the boy ran, scream- 
 ing, and the old hag shivered with fear in a corner. 
 Marley jerked a pistol from his hip-pocket, 
 and, warding Barney's fierce blow with his left 
 arm, which was broken by the bludgeon, he fired 
 pointblank at "the Minty's" head. The ball struck 
 above Barney's ear, and he fell heavily to the 
 floor, totally unconscious. Fortunately, it was a 
 one-barrel pistol, and he could only use it as a 
 club on Ronan, who was desperately engaged with 
 Honey. 
 
 As his club descended on his foeman's head, 
 the man caught it in his mighty grasp, and tore 
 it from Beverly's grasp; then, stepping back, he 
 raised it aloft with both hands, and, ravening like 
 a tiger uncaged, he flew at Ronan to fell him. 
 Quick as a flash, the supple blacksmith sprang 
 forward inside the sweep of the weapon, and 
 
I V 
 
 294 A Modern Apolloj 
 
 struck, with all hi, force and precision, square 
 •on the nose of the snorting Colossus. Blood 
 oozed under the impact of his clenched Bst, and 
 the pain filled the hairy thug's eyes with blinding 
 tears As he turned half round to brace his broad 
 ^et for another attack, the clenched knuckles of 
 Ronans eft hand met his ear, with a thud that 
 knocked him over a stool into a corner 
 
 Now the wild delight of his fierce Saxon an- 
 cestry thrilled through Beverly's pulsing arteries 
 Forty generations of Vikings woke in him, and 
 the spume of the North Sea stung his face The 
 aurora' glow kindled in his eyes; his thews, tough- 
 ened at the resounding anvil, his hardened muscles, 
 that had humbled many a snorting stallion at his 
 smithy, were all in action now. 
 
 As Marley's pistol butt cut a gash over his 
 eye, V hfted the Major bodily, and flung him 
 against a carven panel, and, twisting a leg from 
 the upturned table, turned to meet the gigantic 
 enemy who was on his feet, cursing and raving 
 as he leaped at him again. Beverly measured the 
 distance, lifted his mace, and would have ended 
 the tall yokels career then and there, but for the 
 witch, who had joined the fray, and caught Bev- 
 erly s lifted cudgel as his brawny antagonist bore 
 down upon him. 
 
 In vain the bulky foe essayed to fling him. 
 Blow after blow Ronan smashed into his face 
 with sounding thwacks, till it seemed a mass of 
 bleeding pulp ; but grimly he wrestled, with labored 
 breath, the veins of his face standing out like 
 tense cords, until Marley jerked Ronan's feet 
 
 ij.; ',:'tt Mi 
 
On Folly Island 295 
 
 Ihrn""^/' ^T' """^ ^°^" 'he struggling mass 
 thu„de„d .0 the floor, shaking thetus^wUh 
 
 As It swept over him like a galvanic shock ho 
 rose, towering in magaificent%rowess shook 
 
 hrTwbl'h"'"^' '" '" '''"''^' -"- ' 
 threw both his iron hsts. one after the other into 
 
 Bone/s purple-welted visage. Then he flung "he 
 
 sod.er rom him, and, leaping on the tallVes! 
 
 perado hk-e a panther, bore him backward through 
 
 the open door to the porch, which tottered under 
 
 he grapphng contestants. Blow on blow, resist 
 
 wddered by the storm of fierce, str;igrt Loul- 
 to'tl/r"; "' "u"^'" "' ""= P'"" °' the porti L 
 merS """^'' """" '"= remorseless' ham! 
 
 hij^tn.^^^'^'^",' ™""'"«^ ^°"='"'= ''k"" with 
 
 h s p.3tol, and, feehng his strength swooning from 
 him, Beverly caught Marley by the collar anH 
 throwmg himself against Boney, clitig ng t; ^he 
 post, he bore all his weight against the fail°ng- 
 and over into the river, dragging column ar i 
 rail, went the three fighters. 
 
 Few men could swim like Ronan, and he felt 
 
 t tuTZT ^' '^"" '" "-^ -^-P- Under 
 the water, the brute instinct of self-preservation 
 overcame the lust for blood, the combatan r ep- 
 arated, and rose to the surface, some yards apart. 
 

 ■ 
 
 "9* A Modern Apollos 
 
 The iwift current bore them r.™ji 
 Neither of the abducto?, couUllim'^lt T"'' 
 now witnessed . fearful tr Jedy Botf "Z 
 clung to .he .lender column of^he' balcon; wh2 
 
 The blacksmith, treading water at a .af. Hi. 
 ..nee waited for a chance tf attack 'hem te t" 
 one. The moon had risen, and, by it, ,o,t gW 
 hill and river were faintly illumined. As* ,he 
 .w.rhng eddy swept them far from the bankVowIrd 
 
 "Kthtrw^^rr^^-'-rofS 
 
 The post might have supported two exoert 
 .wtmrner, who knew how to keep low in the wa?er 
 but these men, m pe.il of death, did what all in- 
 expenenced people do. they tried to cUmb out "f 
 
 I^d 7h °° ""^ *°°''- ^' »«"'' beneath Tern 
 and hey saw .t would only save one. Nature"' 
 
 fel'r '""•"'" •^°"" ="' """- P'«y -Slow 
 
 Ut'^i ^LetTnelfyLT- "' ■»" -'^ «- 
 
 ber.^andTaidf ' ''""'■^•' °" *"« «»''»« «- 
 ^^^JI can't swim 1 I won't drown. Let go your- 
 
 The auburn-haired reprobate was now a fi^nH 
 jncarnate Down his bruised and mangled flee 
 blood and water trickled. -angied lace 
 
 A small piece of railing was nailed to the post 
 He^twisted .t oS. and raised it. menacingly. atTe 
 
On Folly hland 297 
 
 l«„i'ir *^' ""' ''*'" ■"'' ''°""' " fell on th.. 
 haple" .mmmer's poll. knocHng i, under water 
 A. Marley emerged, uncon, „*,. Ronan ^Tr^ 
 »"-« near by, heard the bludgeon fall aJron 
 his unprotected head, and as th, h. „i 
 Clenched the pet in hi,t Ao„,. S'lb",:," 
 on h., clinging finger,, .cashing th;m un il ,h ' 
 relaxed, and, with a bubbline Jroan th, 1 ■ 
 ing rnan went down to sleeTi^.r .' oX/ 
 
 •IJ;^' , ^^ '"""■ *«»•< and bleedine but 
 .omewhat refreshed by the cool water, stTuck o 
 for the shore. He made a landing under the lec 
 
 When 7or^';rut aThirrV" '^^ ""^ 
 untiU man^ .'; Z tl aTwer^: ht-i,?"' 
 ver & H ." T' T' «Sg-suckin' whelp I Shet 
 UD? .rflH "" ^u'' "'"°' ''""Kcr; what's 
 trouble" ''' '""^ '""' ''"''=''■■ ^'"'^ " ''"" in 
 
 tale^anVr *°1' "'',•""'""» Preacher told the 
 
 wi'foundT ?. r° '"" "•' '°"'" """•"'I. who 
 was found by the boatman, to the island. In half 
 an hour four men were landed there 
 
 "I am fearful poor Barney is dead; he fell like 
 an ox at that pistol shot." said Ronan. as they 
 approached the house. ' 
 
 shof "Lh°'? "'.' .".°' ''''"'• ^' "" =■ f 'ancing 
 sol Mme'hTi'''' '"'"• P-^alyzing him foT 
 Xn%r;Lr"ed':'-' "" "''"'"'"^ '° «"•'- 
 „, ."'\'"''' ^"' me boy; are ye alive? God be 
 praised! I "m glad to see ye. Glory be I but ye Ve 
 
«98 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 the Jewell Ye hive ttved Miu Uwion from ter 
 worse than aeith." 
 
 The officers arrested the oM crone and the 
 boy. Barney, Ronan, and Barbara went to a 
 hotel to rest and regain strength. When some 
 strips of court-plaster shut Ronan's wounds on the 
 head, and Foley's scalp was bandaged, they were 
 little the worse for the fray. 
 
 But it was twenty-four hours before Barbara 
 could tell the story of her capture, and start home 
 to Delhurtt 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Laura McLaw as a Leader 
 
 "YX^HEN Beverly and Barbara .tarted home 
 
 f n , ,. ^ • '"""8 ^""'y »o "vi.it 
 
 l-oUy Island and secure tlie buried money, they 
 were in a happy frame of mind. Though both were 
 exhausted after the trying experiences of the last 
 two days, they felt that th.^ father, on hearing the 
 whole story, would relent and favor their mutual 
 atta hment with his approval. 
 
 Little they knew of the distressii.g interpreta- 
 tion put on their absence, or the chilling reception 
 awaitmg them. The perfect weather aidet' heir 
 full recovery as they rode up the windi.ig road 
 along the river bank. The night had sprinkled 
 jewels of dew on every leaf. The savor of life 
 was in the sharp wind which lifted the haze from 
 the lowlands. The sunshine, in dazzling floods, 
 -■iifted through the vermilion-colored woods, which 
 were carpeted with penciled leaves and strewn 
 ankle-deep with many-colored foliage. Corpulent 
 pumpkins lay yellow amid the shocks of ripened 
 maize; purple fox-grapes hung in clusters over- 
 head; ripe persimmons, like luscious rubies honied 
 by the fierce kiss of the north wind, swung tempt- 
 ingly near. The pods of the milkweed unraveled 
 their silken floss on the breeze, and a woodpecker 
 »»9 
 
300 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 l 
 
 on the top of a blasted tree in the deadening called 
 in strident staccato, to a lonely hawk, which flapped 
 along the woodland's edge as they rolled by 
 
 It was almost high noon when they drove up 
 to Barbara's home, and her mother rushed to the 
 gate to meet her. They were enfolded in each 
 other s arms, weeping for joy, when a hoarse cry 
 was heard, and Mr. Lawson, furious with hatred 
 came running toward them. ' 
 
 '■Get out of here I" he cried, almost screaming. 
 Father I" she cried, and ran toward him; but 
 he fiung her oflf ruthlessly. 
 
 "Don't call me father, you shameless hussy! 
 Vou are no daughter of mine! Get off this place 
 at once !" 
 
 "What do you mean, father?" cried Barbara 
 m terror. "What have I done, to be cast off?" 
 
 The look on his face stabbed her like a dagger 
 You know well what you have done. I never 
 want to see you again, or the hound you have mar- 
 ried. I will rule this house 1" 
 
 "Married, father! We are not married I" 
 LawsQn and his mfe fully believed they had 
 eloped, and the two days and nights together were 
 explained by this theory. But the words, "We are 
 not married !" frightened the mother. She looked 
 at her daughter in a dazed way. 
 
 Their effect on the father was awful. As his 
 daughters fancied shame flashed over his soul 
 deep furrows grew between his maniacal eyes' 
 and a cry escaped him like the howl of a death- 
 struck beast. 
 
 Leaping into the house, he brought out his 
 
Laura McLaw as a Leader 301 
 
 shotgun, cocked it, and, with a curse, leveled it 
 a the man who, as he supposed, had ruined h 
 
 S?histirrd ^hft ""'"^ ''' '^^ 
 
 £f/o. the^ler;/.^:rce>s^f rur^^: 
 
 hedasredat°R- '"'"f"^ '"*' •^'"•^"•^'^ --P°" 
 ne dashed at Ronan, who was still faint and trem 
 
 bhng from the terrible struggle on the island 
 str t K^ '^'^ "P ^'' ^™ '° f^nd away the 
 his at empted guard, and smote him heavily break 
 red the top of h,s head throbbed, his eyes saw 
 
 froTeC;'''^'"^'^"'''''^""--^-^: 
 
 yoZf::r'^"'''^^''y'^^'°'^'^^^^'^ory Are 
 
 "Yes, I am," he answered, stonily. "This eood- 
 or-nothmg cur took away my one dear lamb^that 
 
 back' Xot'"' "'"'■'■ '"" ''^°"^''' "" ''--'y 
 
 back without a marriage certificate. I hope he 
 " t ' •'°",^'y/^^'^> dead in the second de'athl" 
 Blood 'flT'. f ^"I'^i'led; for he stirred not. 
 Blood flowed from the reopened wounds in his 
 head, and his eyes were set. His hands clutched 
 convulsively at the grass; but he made no sound 
 
 ^y Ronan" ,"' '°'='°^' '"" '"° ^ "'-^ ''-It 
 by Ronan vainly trying to help him. Only a seg- 
 ment of the white of the eyeballs showed t'hrougl, 
 the shts in the almost closed lids 
 
 "Now." said the lawyer, roughly, to his child. 
 
I 
 
 302 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 "I have fixed him so that he will ruin no n,orc 
 households! You pass out that gate, and never 
 enter it again. Go at once. Do you hear?" 
 
 A gleam of light was dawning on Mrs. Lawson. 
 
 "Husband, be calm, and let her speak." 
 
 "Too late to speak now," snarled the lawyer. 
 I never want to hear her voice again. I have 
 nursed a viper o sting me." 
 
 "Father," said Barbara, "there is a frightful 
 mistake here. Do you think I eloped with Bev- 
 erly?" 
 
 "Yes, of course. Do you deny it?" he howled. 
 "I do, solemnly. I was attacked in my room 
 on my return from the festival, chloroformed, and 
 kidnaped by two men I never saw before. I was 
 hurried in a carriage to an island in the river, where 
 Dr. Deynell's gang have a rendezvous. It was 
 done at his instigation; and Beverly had noth- 
 ing to do with it." 
 
 Lawson staggered. "But-4)ut you came home 
 with him ?" he huskily muttered. 
 
 "Yes, I did," she went on. "Mr. Ronan and 
 Barney, "the Minty," by chance saw me borne un- 
 conscious to the den of Deynell's henchmen, and 
 risked their lives to save me. Mr. Ronan was 
 almost killed by the robbers, trying to save your 
 only daughter. He brought me home to-day, as 
 soon as I was able to travel, proud to restore 
 your child to your arms unharmed; and now he 
 lies there I Father, look at him I Poor, dear Bev- 
 erly I" And she knelt by him and kissed his pale 
 face over and over again. 
 
 "O Beverly, speak!" she begged. "Speak!" 
 
Laura McLaw as a Leader 303 
 
 was^^rr''-'""' " "'' '"" '™"' "lazed on him 
 O mother, what have I done! I am deran^f i 
 
 St.eZ""'^'-'^''''' '"'e'^^ ™e b^f"'* you die! 
 bpeakonce, just oncer J-"" aiei 
 
 ^V' ^°"*" was done with human speech Un 
 
 Lawson besought Ronan's parents to let hfn, 
 
 my boy dies, I w.ll settle this score in full. Mark 
 that, and prepare for it!" 
 
 Not even Barbara's pleading could coax the 
 
 bore the"r„-H 'T """ '"^^^^ "<> '»- «enS 
 Luiiage at the cross-roads. 
 
 (r.r^°,T"'^ "'"' ''■°"' 'he smithy for a week 
 for h,s hfe trembled in the balance ; but the prryers 
 of Barbara and his mother were not unheard. %he 
 
304 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 unwearying nursing and medical skill from three 
 towns slowly edged him away from the open grave 
 around which he crawled for a fortnight. His life 
 was saved, and one afternoon, when the fever was 
 all gone, and he lay pale and half conscious, he 
 heard that voice that could draw him from the 
 very gates of death calling his name. He looked 
 up mto Barbara's face with a sad smile. He was 
 not able to return her tender words; but each 
 day made him a little braver and stronger, and 
 soon the village folk were gladdened by the news 
 that Beverly was slowly climbing back to health 
 agam. 
 
 The children stopped, when going home from 
 school, to ask about him; and all the country 
 round was concerned for his recovery. 
 
 Each day Miss Lawson, grave and dignified, 
 greatiy solemnized by the late exciting events, 
 hovered around him. The touch of her hands sent 
 fire through his veins, and the vital spark in the 
 youthful athlete soon burned steadily as of yore. 
 When he was able to sit up, the first visitor 
 admitted was Barney, who shook his hand eagerly. 
 The Minty's" head still showed the scar of his 
 wound; and he had told the whole story, word 
 for word, to Mr. Lawson, who was in abject grief 
 over his uncontrollable attack on his daughter's 
 defender. 
 
 "Good mornin', Bev," said "the Minty." "The 
 heavens was hung ■vid black since I saw ye last; 
 but the sun k out wance more. You 'II soon be' 
 right agin, tubbe shure, an' we'll be merry as 
 grigs." 
 
Laura McLaw as a Leader 305 
 
 clerp°:„"' '°" ^^"'"^ °"' ^^-y-'" -'•ed the 
 
 "Foine, considerin' how Devnell'c A . 
 rapped me wid de pellet o' lead Zf "".'^ 
 
 whole huddle o- mud! t^' , trdf Onf '° V'' 
 
 XtoLsSllL";?'^'''^ ''•■-'-''.-<• Have 
 me and wll change his mode of getting a livine" 
 
 n,f"dTwS;;rsir ^"^ '•>'=-" 
 
 You keep ,t for awhile, tiU I am able to dlen-' 
 tangle my mind and thmk straight. Then I wH 
 
 As fer that" chuckled "the Minty," "it 's as 
 I'kely to come from one place as another Smal 
 doubt but that housebrakin- crony o' yours buried 
 "somewhere; but that's naythe'rherror ^ht 
 T .s good stuff, and we can't find the rale propr L 
 tor now; so we can't." i^^t'iic 
 
 desi're" doin'"'' '°. ""? '''• ^ ™" "^^ '" « Hahn 
 f rnTyXf^Bevr ^°" ""''' '''' ''"' °' 
 wi.l'Siu!^,'''''"""'^ ^- "N'ver a farthing 
 
3o6 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 "But you shall I insist on it. You were nearly 
 •Iain in the struggle we had with those villains 
 and must share it with me." 
 
 "Well." said Barney, mollified, "ye can give a 
 bit of It to Nora unbeknownst to me, and I '11 
 stand m wid ye in that way. Meanwhile " he 
 added as he tied the parcel, "I will hould it till 
 ye call fer it. I 'm off fer a thrip east wid cattle 
 once more, and whin I return, ye will be yerself 
 agin. _ Arrah " he said, admiringly, "ye are the 
 darl.n Beverly, to lick that parsel of pirates single- 
 handed, an me lyin' on the flure. I was no more 
 help to you than a herrin' hung by the gills in a 
 smoky chimbly. More power to your elbow I 
 Now I '11 be off wid myself." 
 
 When the young convalescent was able to see 
 callers Lawson, who had sent flowers and fruit 
 every day and game which he had shot for the 
 sick mans table, came in with his daughter to 
 apologize for his untoward actions. 
 
 "Mr. Ronan," he said, in a sad tone, "I can't 
 wait longer to ask forgiveness. Foley has re- 
 cited the Ihad of Folly Island in our home; and 
 mother and I wept as we learned of your valiant 
 struggle to save our only child. My extenuation 
 IS this : I was crazed with wrath, and I misjudged 
 you. Some men would never forgive my misdeeds 
 but you have a hot temper yourself, and know 
 now passion blinds us." 
 
 Ronan thought of the blow that felled Sinner 
 McLaw, and said : 
 
 "I understand you, sir; and I forgive as I need 
 to be forgiven." 
 
 
L«ura McLaw a. a Leader 307 
 
 'He'i:::,Sn„r «"•"«. who .00a . 
 
 you SS'^'eX for'T '^"■'' ^~ "Can 
 ward you and ^ouHole,'"' """^ ' '"""'^'^ '°- 
 
 looked over the edpe ol tiJ, ■ f "'''° ''^'' 
 
 wen. .0 Hslte e u'rer^hiif^r ^^ ^'"- 
 as we now know him ^ ^""' "^ E"'°". 
 
 Ronan'-reriinid"' T"^ 1° "^ => '--• Mr. 
 "What Ll^v '.*''"" "'^y were alone. 
 
 What IS It? questioned the parson 
 
 CaptL°aTer"'''°'^'--°M'"''ank.-the 
 plie7R<;nt: ' """ ''''"" *° -* '•' again," re- 
 
 uulr .ureTSip'"""" ""^'^^'^ •'-^'""• 
 
 Of course. I can never forget her " 
 
 handSiSYhr;es'ttn« Z"' ^"""^ '"^ -"'■ 
 She rallied the town a o "h h ""''' "^"^ "^"• 
 distributed them! andld th/l^r"' ^""P""" 
 P'ague. She became he aLl "^f""/' ""^ 
 Her'i^ ru^ -- '^o'rerttin'ULti:" -; 
 -:^anV=^rV^-^^^^^^^ con^ 
 
 Then she went back to her home a different 
 
3o8 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 woman, and shortly was taken down with the 
 disease She had overworked and weakened her- 
 self and It seized upon her reduced vitality. She 
 might have pulled through all right, but the woman 
 showed no desire to recover. 'My >vork is done,' 
 «he Mys. I would rather depart.' 
 
 "One day 'Sinner' sent for my wife " 
 
 "Your wife?" queried Ronan. 
 "Yes. Edith Satterlee is now my wife We 
 were married not long ago." 
 
 "Shake,'' said Beverly. "You have won a prize 
 in the matrimonial lottery-a grand prize. Such 
 women are few." 
 
 "Well," went on Elliott, "when we got to the 
 house, we found Uura wasted to a shadow. You 
 would n't know her. She is so thin and pale. 
 
 Edith and she were schoolmates; and when 
 
 do for her, she looked around to see that her fa- 
 ther was out of the room, and whispered: 
 
 Ronan'"' ^ "" "°' ^'^ ^^^^^ ""'" ^ "' ^■■• 
 
 y,u"l ''T. °"' ""^ '""""^ ^=Law, and told him 
 his daughter was nearly gone. He knew that 
 from the doctors and I said: 'She wants to see 
 Mr. Konan before she passes away. Will vou 
 permit it?' ■' 
 
 "There is a rumor that you and he had some 
 trouble, and I didn't know how he would taTe 
 the request. 
 
 "HU yo;ce broke, as he tried to answer, 'I 
 never denied Laura anything she wanted, and can 
 not do so now. 
 
Laur, McLaw as a Leader 309 
 
 unJ,;f„' ;Se"hr'' "•" '°"" •" ^°- -« 
 
 out'wesT'forht "'r' """• " "*"'»'y- -" so 
 biLe I o S-hii" °"' """"^l I *" -"ostfo 
 once.' *^ *"' ""'' *""' ''''" «° come at 
 
 "The Rev. Bevehly Ronan: 
 
 sic. tT:n'':;7ovi:;^s fo -"■ -"^ '» -^^ 
 ourhrei:,':e£?,::t;fT.r.'^T!; 
 
 to re.™ .He W when oppo^^u'ni. otr .' '''' 
 with sincere regard, 
 
 "Your friend, Ezra McLaw." 
 
 il^r"- and .i„ ,Ve";ofa„\tCr f 
 "That evening he related the whole storv f„ 
 
 i^r.d' r^'';?^' '° -^ '"■^•^ "^ ^^ - 
 
 togo.* *^°' '"'^''"'- "It ■•» your plain duty 
 
 -^irr::^di°:::K-r"^ 
 
 adventure at Folly Island. Elliott asked foreclose 
 
3IO 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 Edith. r,:z co£i'.^nr;i'T ,"%"""*' °' 
 
 room, and I think ZJia T \f ""''" '""" >>is 
 hous. I have "usoec? H 'f "''"' "°PP'"8 " ">« 
 
 the law." ' '° '°"«^ """"ed by 
 
 m Ot^et cVe°ek '"^ "' '"—'«» Deynel. died 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A Man Transformed 
 
 T''nL^rt;e'^;.'':£t° Koad Ha, even 
 Laura McLaw socm m» ' °"* ''"°wn as 
 
 'ha. good wa^faTe ' a"d IT ' " "'' ""^^ »' 
 this day. "'^' »•""" undimmed until 
 
 The children of that tim- 
 but they have not e„' d t "? '" ■"'"■"'' "°'»: 
 
 been a new case in nine nil , ''"' ^" "ot 
 ^oy we,.. Praise Z^.^^^^!^' -'^ - 
 
 /athef ^°" "°' -- °-'" as.ed'L anxious 
 
 '"t. I have led them o„ ,„ -^ "'"" '"'"'' '° 
 -rrows of life and The .er°o;"°7i''™"^'' "" 
 "ow I am weary wearv " ^ °. ""'• ^"'^ 
 on a sofa. ^ "^' ^"'I '^e east herself 
 
 Have'cLtm-eTo ^esT-^^f:? Th^ '^^ -^^^- "^ 
 t°rest,^ for within a month she 
 
3" A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 cr„;rj„v''' '""*■ '°'' """• "°"' '''"='■ 
 
 .wcity: ' '""^ ""= '""""" -^ "owl 
 
 "TlOT I llull Ulhe my w^ry «^ 
 In MM of heavenly rest. 
 And not • witc of trouble nil 
 Acroij my peaceful breajt" 
 
 a.Nha.da,;a„-heai„.a./o:-teaSh;;a:!; 
 "Didn't ye hear," said Hi Stiles, "that Doc 
 
 in her feelings , or rort/^and S's.^"" '■^'"' 
 
 _ Yes, replied the old class-ltader "T 1,..,^ v 
 
 ystiddy; but she belongs to the elec' She "hid 
 
A Man Traniformed 
 
 Providence b„,?.i'"'"r''''' '"^""'" of 
 
 0"gh, ,o bui'l heVa lunkln^h"'- "^"' ^'""'»"'' 
 • »ta.oo of Laura on , on , '^ "'°""3""-nt, with 
 in her arms an"iu »1 '^ , "' '""' "" '"'^ baby 
 
 'yc, ,ha. looked .oward'heT''"' *'"'"''''''« 
 noon, and night ^°""' " morning, 
 
 roi<^ii;:::::::zSarf^r^''^'^ 
 
 '"» his long, narrow head ""'' '"''^'- 
 
 v.>c oS, h S.r;/" °" '''^'''' <""■•" ""•' 
 
 where it live an-i„ ' tT ■ '" "" "''' '°«n "ght 
 
 The cllrk ?et th. "'"'" '''"' ■ ^^ ''"^ "le?" 
 
 sanded floor, as he knuckunV "'"''"' °" 'be 
 carder bent like a h'lf ^'^"' """"'* " '"•" 
 
 poked .he fir %he oth^'T"! r'-'""^' ""-l 
 dowsinsilenceforalonl l> ^'' °"' ""^ *''"- 
 players on the backUuni! Z''' ^T "'^ '^''ecker- 
 Same. Then Sy "aid "^°" '""''''"='' 
 
 ^ot'to'daXk^'l:"";'-^' - "- "-i" ye 
 feller hev a pull aTit " " "°''"'' ""' '« ""^ 
 
 Pape/collarrandtlrh^^ °' -^^' =" "^ »' 
 
•■'4 
 
 1 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 a hearty handshak! and took h "'.' /""'^ with 
 
 elder man. «^°'' confessed the 
 
 a contemptible thZll T -^'"^ °' '''• ^' ^" 
 that my blood is cool T T'"'"" '° <'°- Now 
 by a bumbie a/oS ^cT'irsi""' '"^ '"^"- 
 
 the deid-'/a^bi;^;:^ d^r 'c-o'"^ 'T- '^^' 
 
 daughter. She has but a f- / *"'' ^"= "y 
 longing to see you " '^ ""^^ '° ''■^^- and is 
 
 evertr2er,erMl^''tT "^ '"^ '^^'"^ 
 -as the change i^U':'^"'''- '^"' -»'<y g-ate? 
 
 dran^hrS^d Mftr;^ 'r- the fever that 
 pale and helpless Th A /'^"' ""P'^' '^^ 'ay 
 was almost trln^em a"nVh ',1 °"' '° "^ 
 shifting in his big, bur^Ltl/ ,' '" ""^ l'""" 
 Nothing remained of he-h T "V "' ''" '°°'' 't. 
 the wonderful eyes Lowinrr^ ? •"'' '"''' =^^' 
 the stormy hair hat hwT fu ''""«^ '^°'"'- and 
 So frail and pathltTch. ^" *^" '"^^''cad. 
 
 outbound emigrant abou t„'""l' if'"^ "'"^> "" 
 and kissed her^pallld btw '"'' '"'" ''^ "="' 
 
 'Vut '""';"'" "P^'='"'^^''e said- 
 It -so good to be strong. Mr.Ronan."she 
 
A iVfqa Transformed 
 
 sa./al rhe/'"''"' '"^ '^«' '"^'x: then she 
 to depart No lorZ '°" "'' '"''^ '""' ™"'"^ 
 
 -e Vs^xniT^ No" f r„' 1°;: ^■°" 
 
 why you desired to see me" ''""'^ 
 
 "I am very weak. Father' will tell you." 
 
 The inTerest he h! ^''."- '' '*"°'" '^^ '° time, 
 wants o bequeath t"to' *" '" '°'"' "'''''■ ^he 
 
3'6 A Modern Apollos 
 
 He said: "I will consent to use the fund, as 
 M.SS Lawson directs. I will do my best" 
 
 he hZZ ''''A '''■^•''' '° ^° '°^ his wife, while 
 he himself went for h.s lawyer. Soon Laura's will 
 was written. Mr. and Mrs. Elliott signed t as 
 wtnesses And the fading woman sanlcTnto men 
 tal quietude, waiting for the great change. 
 
 About an hour before morning, Beverly was 
 awakened and, with the others, weni to he '0^™ 
 The end had come. Death dignifies every fac"' 
 
 r;a"dL:cr""r'- ^"' °" ""^ ^"'^ --'--" 
 
 a radian e as from an unseen lamp was shining. 
 All the former beauty had returned to the fea- 
 tures pain had vanished, a tender smle hovered 
 
 breath ftiled'Nh'^'' ''"" ''''' "^ »-'' - '^ 
 oreath failed. She was unconscious; yet the eves 
 
 Ty'drcT T'' ^ '°°'" -^""^'"^^ *- fh 
 drooD d d ■ " '"""'r '' °' ^" '"-■^"'le veil 
 dropped down upon the calm brow; and all was 
 
 knew°thrn' "°' "'" ""' P''^^'''''" ^y "'^ bed, 
 fu?r 1! ^T'' '"°'"'"' °' departure; so peace- 
 ful was her dismissal. 
 
 McLaw asked Ronan to remain and preach the 
 ft^neral sermon, which he was glad to do. The 
 Miimank church never held so many people nor 
 such evidences of sorrow, as at her funeral' A 
 quartet of girls from the mills, whom she had 
 trained, sang "Rock of Ages;" and Ronan's 
 
 Peol'sTo' ' "I'""" ''' ''^P'"^' "^-"-e the 
 
 chaste h; '""°" '"'' P^"'"""^ i° "» 
 
 chaste beauty, every word winnowed, every 
 
 thought mellowed. He unfolded her character 
 
A Man Transformed 317 
 
 «^th 5uch subtle insight that it seemed to bud and 
 grow and open like the rose of dawn tin th, H n 
 room B-loweW «mH, - . . "'""• "" 'he dull 
 
 every ^ce '"^'""' "^'"' ^"=««'«d on 
 
 voiceTrokt' L^T' ^-^ measured accent; his 
 temptat: n\ht "hid t T T '"f "'«■" °' 
 
 »nH t °^ triumph came over his face 
 
 Sits;.- :;»=.■-'■ "'•-'" 
 
 "I=mileto,hi„kGod'sgre.t„«. 
 Flows .round our incompleKncM 
 Round our resUessness his resl." 
 
 The factories were all closed an^ , 1 
 
 IZ :::::: -Herwoman, Who fed' two%S 
 
 Hero Hartrrrstrtrs^^^'r- 
 dishlarLTd and'hr""^-^^ "'°"«'" '"<= '-" 
 
 Ti,e r^ ;^"""'^"""y of her many virtues 
 The Church people pressed Ronan to remai,; 
 
3 '8 A Modern Apollos 
 
 bara, who was sewing on her wedding dress- but 
 when^the old pastor implored him to Ly. hTcon 
 
 People went two hours early to eet «rat« • »nj 
 all agreed Ronan had developed ^e^t/ All thf 
 fine pa, of fancy and flashes o^ ima^ry ^ere^.^ 
 and the warmth of natural affection as well; bu 
 
 nZ\r>l" 'T'''' ""^ '"''^ ^^" '" his ,;nes, 
 new to them. He touched some strings in that 
 harp called the human soul he had never vibrlted 
 
 servll'' 7^"P^^■fy ""nif^t at the evening 
 service. In closing, he said: 
 
 .rf7,°JV^'' ^°°'' P'°P'^ e^«"'"de for many 
 
 th old ::;d " "' '°''' '"' ^°" »- ^ --^ ^ave 
 
 the old, old message-the story ever new " 
 
 h.K^T-^ "'^ '^" ''^'"''' ">« '°<^»' pastor, sitting 
 behind him, whispered : ^ 
 
 "Give the people a chance' to make a profes- 
 sion of faith. Many are ready." 
 
 When the song was ended, Ronan stood an 
 mstant, surveyed the assembly, and said, slowly: 
 
 It IS very likely we will never meet again I 
 will therefore open the doors of the Church to 
 any one who desires to lead a Christian life. Let 
 such rise and come to the altar, and meet me " 
 
 ho one stirred. He asked them to sing the 
 Doxology; and, when it ceased, he lifted his hands 
 
 loifHaid : """°"- ^''°'^ •"= =°'^<' =P«''. - 
 "Wait I" 
 He saw a movement near the door, and. to 
 
A Man Transformed 
 
 3»9 
 
 his amazement, MeUw :ame up the aisle H- 
 face was grim and his gait unsteadv !« ' 
 
 .inner slain of the Lord. "^ " ' "'°'"^"'' '"''"^ a 
 The noble chant, 
 
 Like(l,ewideMMoflht«." 
 
 He w" thrr'i"'" '™' '^J°'""^ exceedingly 
 hymn rolld o«h^ ".■"" '^'°^" «^'"" «"- 
 
 ™irsrr^::--^-aidors„n.hut 
 
 a mystr;'"Th'' ^°""'' "^"'•■" ■•°""d, and see 
 flel Soon U X'l:" '^ <'^.^"'-^-PP'«= with the 
 freert %■ ■ ^ "nprisoned, manumitteu 
 
 Se ft':ra ht""^'." '^~""" '^ 
 freckles Jatil^on it "Kelnr' °W'°^' ^''^ 
 
 w-o"-' -e this hoi^i,,^^^^- ::t 
 «fe; b^t r::i: o"rati;tt;'r^ r^'i" -^ 
 
 beyond." "^ve my soul. I want a chance 
 
320 A Modern Apollos 
 
 The worker told him to pray; but he didn't 
 
 ■nto each one: 'O God for Je^u/.lJi 
 
 The man began, slowly, fearfully. At the word 
 Jesus he stopped^ The prayer 'was nev r fi - 
 
 Stl^on'^" "-- '"^ overJheli-ru,*;:: 
 
 Soft and low a voice began the strain: 
 
 "'TU done; the g™,t ttansKtion'i done, 
 I m my Lonl'., wd he is mine." 
 
 While half the people wept for excess of I,,n™ 
 S'^^f ^ "^"J-^-^ Hands rnTonlaSs" 
 hee^- 'and the " I'''"'^''' "' "'^"^ ^aura was 
 shei;?" ''P'^ *''' "W"" '"'ows but 
 
 When "Happy Day" had swelled to the raft 
 ers, and rattled the sash in the wea^ "be" n 
 casements, the folks departed; but McLaw a„rt 
 Ronan, walking homeward arm in arm cou.d hear 
 
 roadf^The old" "^°™''"^ ^'°"^ "^« ''"^-ed 
 roa^ds. The old man stopped once to listen, and 
 
 befor?TJ°" "f't "'" '"'""'■ ^ "-^^^ knew 
 Detore. How good the people are 1" 
 
 After they were refreshed with a cup of tea and 
 some frmt, they sat talking i„ the house a lo;;^ 
 
A Man Transformed 
 
 He trul, was transfo L^ a d s'el™"?' "';."'^- 
 to unlock his memory and nnl u '""'""'' 
 
 past. ^' *"" °Pen up the distant 
 
 "You do not know \rr p„ 
 mortal, what a load iT. "*"' "°'' ''°" "X 
 
 I belief ii louM aW n '""'" ^°^ """y y<=='"- 
 burdened myLl'oyoV'Va"'"' "^" "^ '^ ^ - 
 
 '"' .-li^f-f- „vvou.d;°o"u liir t^r"" " "-"- 
 
 terif I know yo1.r alS'" " ' "" ^^' " ''^'- 
 
 oneaSt^XXnSi''''''^^'-^ 
 will disclose my secret T T ^ '*'*'' '*"• "I 
 when a man of .hTr I wa/, i™ '" ^'=°"''' ^""^ 
 
 «tate in the ffi 1 j ^ ^"'""''"P" °n a large 
 me Highlands, near Lorh T„ j 
 There occurred the incident that mtn "°"''- 
 
 as a stone, and be^n J^ ^^ *"* ^* bard 
 
 because o my unCi„/ '"''' '"^'"^ earned me, 
 ture. the nam^e,"S ,^ Tw'^l 7°""!,"^- 
 and never resented if • f .,^- ^ deserved it, 
 ful brand burned on mh 'T'" ' '''"'' °' '=>- 
 I even used "t whe„^ ^T '°' " P"^' ""'^deed. 
 the people o 'in ^°''"^^^''- L'"'« 
 -as my 'peculiar tMetnne:" 1^ "^"!!"^ '""^ 
 of poetic justice sen by the De tvl^r' " '"" 
 Sression. So I accepted it L*i!!. "^ '""'- 
 the thorny scourgertat flol h ' "°''' ""'"'^ 
 his sin. My hearf wti ^ "" '" P*"^"« for 
 became a merrdorr / ' *"'" °' ^'^^- ^"^ I 
 ^eeph. Bri^ir^mVuxt.'"""^^'"'' 
 
322 A Modern Apolloj 
 
 l,.,7 '*" T""^ '" '°™ "''"' 'he daughter of the 
 head gamekeeper, and thought I couU win her 
 
 ine heather. She had not promised to be mv wife 
 nor can I really say she greatly favored me but' 
 I won her smiles, and felt I was liked better than 
 any su.tor m all the country side. I wTs deter 
 
 r:t7or:r^-"'<'''---'"-S 
 cani^u^^r^ii-:---::-^ 
 
 h^^rhSs^Lii^drr-t}-:;;:^ 
 
 dent, and he became enamored of her. I thought 
 he was only flirting with the country maid and 
 would forget her when he went awayfbuThe lass 
 loved h.m-and soon I saw I was forgotten Pe 
 haps I showed some ill will toward him. and one 
 day we met m the forest-he had stra;ed some 
 distance from his friends, and I was guardinga 
 deer-path, waiting for the staghoundt Anger 
 flamed m my brain, and I lusted for vengeance I 
 stepped before him, and said: ""^ ''*"«"°"- ^ 
 
 m,-,i'^""' "'' ^'°" ^^"^ '"o'en my chosen 
 ma.d-my sweetheart-with your butte^d hes" 
 You mean to wrong her, I think. Tell me, is this 
 
 " 'Your sweetheart,' he said, with a sneer 'She 
 would n't wipe her shoes on a hind like you. Ou 
 
 coIdT ""'^' ^°" ""''""''^' °' ^'" ^'^«"=h you 
 
A Man Transformed 
 
 3^3 
 
 wa:J:^iLrs'hr«"-"^'°p/-idi. -she 
 
 t"ive her.' "^ ''"^' y°" may not 
 
 "His mettle was up, and he said- 'I mi c u 
 
 • you now, and here <itL ,. . '■ " ''S'lt 
 
 and count three on th^ '"'''f /aces from „,e, 
 
 bide the issue' ^' ^°''''' ««•' and I will 
 
 and'S'tfn^p'lfof I" '"^"""^ -" "^<= = 
 ready. We Lf , . ""' "'arltmanship, was 
 
 .unsfand t herrd.f; '''T'- '"^'''^ -- 
 feather w^s cut from mvcT' '"'" '"=■>■ '^'•'= 
 
 "P of an ear cut Tbrfaf LXh^"''' ^"' '"^ 
 the place here " AnH iw r """^f ''°'— ye can see 
 maimed ear 'Buf" ^cLaw bent to show the 
 with blood ;,ream„rf/"."' '^"^''^ '° ^arth, 
 was soon gone aTTsawV ' "1='- ^'^ "■""> 
 I tried to lift him ™ ^""""^ '""«' and 
 
 whicTwereTCone"' """"^ ""^ '-° ^"o*^" 
 ^eatfear.^^^;°::i^:--ardhi^ dUn 
 
 on my hands as I hid there ,„H u ^°°'^ "'^^ 
 him, I heard one ask him >? '" "'">' '°""d 
 could not hear his reply W ""' ''"'"' ' ""' ' 
 
 ir:;:,~^----Sei° 
 -^-ad:Str^:^-^-S-'^ 
 
 him To ah' "°"" ''^ ^°°" ""'"^ 'hTy ^ot 
 
324 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 then I have been a „. 'ro L °' ^"""=''- Since 
 fellow-men. Laura la?mv„r"^- ,'^'"''' "' "•>• 
 'he i, taken away u7c ,' '°'"'.°''- ""^ ''°^ 
 restitmion, a- 7 while !„ , '' T" ''""'"^ ™« 'o 
 SO back to SCO land Uh ''^''"'''' ^ "'''• '^ «'" 
 be right with Go" 'la V a'd m °- 7 ""• ' '^'" 
 are both righteous a together ^s'r' '°' ""^ 
 altar, and soon I will h! ■ ^ '*'*"' '° '^e 
 
 «s calm amenS A ter C ;""°^' . ''^-"f'" m 
 was jubilant. li was h, ^ '^P'«^'°". his soul 
 
 "Icanbutdi""h'jd"°T°"„\°"'- 
 do it, and wash out the crime """"•""'=''*'' 
 
 o'^^tt::^:s!Sr^|— on 
 was for;S;ret'>""^«°-- "What 
 .o„.>"""'" "P''^" M<^Law; "Alexander W 
 
 '•Th»^^":f '"•" '"'*"^<' 'he clergyman 
 „That .s the town he hailed from™" 
 Was he a lawyer'" 
 
 a-ill.^" ' '""^ '■"'""■ -w* 1. u» Id,.. 
 
A Man Transformed 
 
 3'5 
 
 "It was. 
 
 "Janet McCrea ?" 
 
 "No other; how did ye know all thi.?" 
 
 This all happened " h. ^^ j .. 
 Of the Duke of -_?•• '"'^' °" ">« "'ate 
 
 n.ean?7::;^~J--.Konan.what.ou 
 
 tawsonrefLyr„:"r ^^ ""'■"-■ ^'^ 
 
 the scar in his "eck and'heT ,T ' ''''' "'" 
 ■•" his home in Ddhurs" ntv,T '"' ""= """= 
 for weeks after youw.Wed Wn, .' ^1"^ ^' " '""^ 
 married Janet and cam! . J ^"' "^ --"overed. 
 has grown rich." ' '° '^'""'«- «here he 
 
 McLaw was sobbing like a chiM -n , 
 he true? and am I nnt , f **• *^an this 
 could see me now!" """^""^ °' '' Laura 
 
 preS '"ruTst V°? '^t^ ^°"^" ^P^-^e 'he 
 Lawson and your ot flame '°w^""'"^' "'' "* 
 wm be, I wLt^to wSss it'^'^''"'""''"^'''" 
 
 -nrr-thettter'-^Hlnhf "7h "^"<' '^' 
 « changed or I am aSh" mt .^ "^ ''^°""'' - 
 
 the cl^tr^iktststrh':-''"'"'^ ^— " 
 against you all the years 'f '°""" ''"'^'" 
 
!'i 
 
 r 
 
 326 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 Next day they sped westward, and the train, 
 which .hook the track with the tread of its whirl- 
 mg chariots, went all too slow for the old man in 
 Ills new-found happiness, and the younger one 
 hurrying to his beloved— lor the nuptial-day wa* 
 drawing nigh. 
 
 Ill' 
 
 it] 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A Monetary Panic 
 
 "XXriTH the melancholy death of Dr. Deynell, 
 yV alt the commercial fabric which he had 
 built fell into irremediable chaos ; for knavery was 
 the keystone of every arch, in all the various con- 
 cerns which carried on business in his name, and 
 he had been teetering on the edge of failure for a 
 year. The ruin was entire, and the subsequent 
 distress far-reaching. To do him simple justice, 
 the scheming cheat did not intend to rob the poor, 
 nor did he do so directly— more than once he re- 
 fused to invest the money of widows and aged 
 folks in his top-heavy companies — but indirectly, 
 though he flattered himself that misery was never 
 made more hopeless by him, this was the effect 
 of his double dealings, for he decoyed into his 
 net those who held trust funds, and thus pulled 
 down, in widespread disaster, many necessitous 
 people whose faces he never saw. 
 
 One of the men he had inveigled, by intricate 
 finesse, into his ventures, was Alex Lawson, the 
 banker of Delhurst. The physician's dazzling finan- 
 cial success and oily tongue had cozened the for- 
 eign-born holder of the village savings, until he 
 risked nearly all his own available hoard, and all 
 a"? 
 
3a8 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 that was loaned to him in tho !,„„ / ■ 
 p|n from high int^r^sr^nTg^^lt^X 27"" 
 ;n the rotten corporations. Too ofteVare the ' f 
 
 Mid ?« V , '^^"Wie- Md what would be 
 
 tratio^ .f ,, """"■"' °f philosophy, no concen- 
 tration of will, were efficacious in ser..rin„ , • , 
 moment's sleep. The bed seemL fo 'ralhimt 
 three directions at once, the covering, all ,hro"Jh 
 iiht and" T"' "" '""" '°° heavy or'fo 
 
 Shrwt^X"=r:%r^-^-- 
 
 A thousand excuses he made, and not one ex- 
 
A Monetary Panic 
 
 329 
 
 tenuated his folly- while l,i= _ 
 
 the burdened ^an.'wheT "e Sught'oTl'"'" 
 d.gent whose sn,all accumulations werj^, %„"" 
 
 mmwm 
 
 principal was swallowed up ' *"""'' "■' 
 
 fire^tr/n^eXLt'Iir V""'™^"' '°^'"-^ 
 
 a wdow, whose husband had TeftTn his h^nd 
 sum which represented n,. • V- *"''^ * 
 
 tions of a >abo:^us1t."'liCf dLb??"'" 
 builded together wh-J • °"'''' ''°"^« 
 
 »und he left would support his aged wife till iZ 
 summons came to hpr w., i, ■ ' '"* 
 
330 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 mg-room to await the gathering of his family. 
 When they came, he was pacing the room, with 
 glaring eyes and clenched hands, muttering inco- 
 herently. 
 
 His wife saw his livid face, and asked, "What 
 IS wrong, Alex ; are you ill ?" 
 
 With painful gestures, as if he already felt the 
 isolation of the dishonor he had brought on his 
 wife and child, he essayed to speak. He stood like 
 a person expecting an attack from his loved ones 
 whom he had disgraced. He made the motions 
 of a hapless bather in the ocean, entangled in sea- 
 weeds, which enmeshed him closer at every effort 
 to escape. He was gyved, and sinking into the 
 disreputable class who live by the spoliation of 
 their fellow-men. 
 
 "Shut the door," he whispered, hoarsely "Sit 
 
 down, Janet and Barbara, and hear my misdeeds. 
 
 1 have ruined myself and you, and many others." 
 
 "How is this, my husband? I will not believe 
 
 anything wrong of you I" cried the wife. 
 
 "I will stand by you against the world I" echoed 
 the daughter. 
 
 "I know that," he replied; "but I am undone. 
 I trusted nearly all of my assets to Deynell, and 
 everything is whelmed in the maelstrom of his 
 downfall." 
 
 For some moments they sat stunned, utterly 
 crushed. His hard breathing only was heard. 
 
 "We are stripped of everything," he went on, 
 with the glare of insanity in his eyes ; "even this 
 house is not mine. My creditors will take all; 
 nothing is left." 
 
A Monetary Panic 331 
 
 Barbara put her arms about him, saying- "Bear 
 up, father; be brave. We are all strong, and I will 
 drudge to support you. I can earn a living." 
 
 "But O!" he cried, with a wild laugh, "I am a 
 liar ! a thief ! a robber ! Where is my family honor 
 gone? I was well born; I inherited a stainless 
 name. I have befouled my birth, and sullied the 
 Lawson escutcheon ; tarnished a proud record, and 
 even degraded my own family. God help me now" 
 There IS nothing left for me but poison, or the 
 river I" And the broken man wept £ if his heart 
 was cleft in twain. 
 
 "But you did not intend to wrong any one ; that 
 IS one consolation," said the wife. 
 
 "True," moaned the bankrupt ; "but the eflfect 
 on others is the same as if I was a conscienceless 
 swmdier. They will think I deliberately gulled 
 
 A knocking, loud and rapid, was heard upon 
 the door. 
 
 "Come in I" called the banker; and the store- 
 keeper entered, with a lawyer and a notary public 
 
 Direct was his speech. "Mr. Lawson, is our 
 lodge money lost in the Deynell failure?" 
 
 "It is all gone," answered the humbled man, 
 who yesterday would have resented such a tone. 
 
 "Well," said the merchant, "as the money to 
 sustam our needy members was in your hands, as 
 tr.«.urer of the society, you should try to secure 
 them against loss, at least." 
 
 "How can I do so?" queried the financier. 
 
 "By assigning your property to us, as trustees 
 at once," spake the storekeeper. ' 
 
vl 
 
 332 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 all ITj u°' ™."'"«^ '° ^"^ """^ °f "y creditors 
 all that I have left; but will gladly give up aU I 
 have as a debtor, if all can share aike Mr 
 Blundell, I know you to be an honoraWe man 
 as .s also your friend, Mr. Martin. WiUyou^wo 
 lu ^"'7' '"' P°-"^i°"^. to be equa% Z 
 
 Z '"n"f 'r' """"^ '""'^ "horn I owe?" 
 VVe will," they both replied. 
 
 Draw up the instruments, Mr. Barker-" and 
 m an hour he had assigned his home, three farms 
 h. bank and several lots in the toU bei g" | 
 ne had of any value in the world 
 
 A crowd was in the yard by this time. Men 
 and women, with glassy eyes and rigid faces The 
 sohd earth rocking beneath their ftt wouid not 
 
 The lar"-'f "''■" '"°'' ''""' "'« catast ophe 
 ll^u'r^°'"'^'^ "'^ "^ddened multitude fha 
 Lawson had surrendered his all, which would be 
 duly divided. With suppressed cur es and tear 
 
 describa^lp ""■''''' ^°'"'- '"« =°"°w was i„- 
 aescribable. Reason seemed to forsake the head 
 of the bouse, who locked himself in his r.om, say 
 ing no word to any one. ^ 
 
 Dleaid ? """'? ^""'y- ^''° ''^"' "°' far away, 
 pleaded for an mterview with him, and was ad 
 
 r temn'° t'" "°'"' """^ ""= ^''^' b-k an* forth 
 in tempestuous mood. 
 
 "Mr. Lawson," she began, "is it true that all 
 my money is lost?" ' true that all 
 
 "Sadly, bitterly true," he moaned. "All is tope 
 you. Spare me your reproaches, woman; I will 
 
A Monetary Panic 
 
 333 
 
 west He fe into irr "'' """"""^ ""'" >"= **"' 
 killed a m/n u ^^ company, and, in a quarrel 
 
 Western S^ate^'' """"^ ">' °°^""°' °f 'hat 
 conrr„edtb rn|ed° H7b'"\'°^' f ° ^^"^ 
 ;ng. got his senten f changed^o [2^ ""'"■ 
 
 or life In order to tell /here he w^'t^t 
 
 saved us. This helped to se. ht 7. ■ 
 
 ™r ^;r 'r «• - -^^ «■"«<.'■=; 
 
 II 
 
334 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 mgs of thirty toilsome years-to my creditors I 
 am poorer than you this moment. See," he said 
 as he took out his purse, "I have fifty dollars 
 eft-not another penny-and I give you forty of 
 t. You wll get a share of my estate-perhaps 
 twenty-five cents on the dollar. I can do no more. 
 Forgive me I Ask Elsie to forgive met" he 
 begged, as the bowed woman went out. 
 
 In the hall she met the postmaster, a pushing 
 young politician, greatly agitated. He shoved past 
 her and forced his way into the parlor, where the 
 guilty man was, locking the door after him. 
 
 'Lawscn," he questioned, with menace in every 
 
 Td / TV'u^'' ^ """"■ ^ *-' '"y "oney^ 
 and forthwith, this very day. Can I have it?" 
 I regret you can not," was the reply. 
 
 I II see If I can't. That money belongs to Uncle 
 J>am, and I 11 be expelled from office if I don't 
 produce It. Will you give it up ?" 
 
 "It is beyond my power, Walker. You ask 
 what IS impossible. It can not be done " 
 
 With a wolfish snarl, the official drew a gleam- 
 ing dirk from his breast, and muttered, as he ad- 
 vanced on Lawson, "I '11 cut your devilish wizzen 
 you undermining son of perdition; I'll murder 
 you right here!" 
 
 The banker quailed not under the awful im- 
 precations, but stood erect. "Very well, John 
 Walker; strike, if you think it will mend matters, 
 btrike! Here is my heart," he said, as he threw 
 his coat open. "Life is nothing to me now I Kill 
 me; your dagger is the key that will set me free I 
 
A Monetary Panic 
 
 1 wouldn't be L V°'"' ""'^^ ^='f« "°"Sh. 
 
 stolen. .oJintrralX.,"""'' '°^ ="' ^^ ""e 
 
 •narrow of VuCt JTcX^K '""'^ '"'^ ^"^ 
 [ng fen-wa.er and ea.Tng adde'r^ V°". ^" '""'- 
 
 the short afternolnLd t" °"' '' ""^ ^"<1 °f 
 river. The boa° f^^H '"""'"^ '°*"<' ">« 
 
 to the wha /boat and"het?f '''"? "" -^""""^ 
 
 --;^^-sss-°r::;-£ 
 
 "Lawson!" he shouted, "I want m„ 
 d ye hyar?" ' "^ money; 
 
 -;^iPx^^^=hi^-- 
 
 sben'orso;;yTorat°::?^"^;--^^"' 
 
 choke the juggling fouTort of yTr^""*^' °' ''" 
 
(!!::: 
 
 336 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 ';You can't get blood out of a gatepost, Greg- 
 
 With a rattle of oaths, the drover seired a club 
 
 Zh^ " °l =°'''":°°'' "'"^ 'he gangplank, and 
 rushed upon the banker, bringing the cudgel down 
 on his skul w.th a heavy crash. Lawson reeled, 
 and fell backward into the tawny stream, and was 
 swept between the wharf and the big steamboat, 
 which was a s.de-wheeler. Some of the witnesses 
 of the tragic occurrence ran to the stern of the 
 boat, and looked through the fallin. night; but 
 he was not seen, nor did he appear when the craft 
 moved off. He was gone. 
 
 The news of his drowning reached his family 
 early in the evening, and was absolutely numbing 
 m Its awful impact. Dry-eyed grief tore the 
 widows soul, while Barbara wept herself into a 
 stupor, until she was in a condition of physical 
 collapse. The doctor said brain-fever would be 
 upon her unless her anguish was stayed. Half 
 
 !^'. ,f ^"''^'" ""y ''"''''' bemoaning the fact 
 that Mr. Lawson's body could not be recovered 
 and decently buried. 
 
 "I could wish," said the dispirited wife, "that 
 another day might never dawn." 
 
 Soon a strong desire seized her to leave Del- 
 hurst forever. 
 
 "I can never face the neighbors; their sneers 
 will stab me. Let us go to my native land, away 
 from this scene, and never return more." 
 
 The thought seemed to revivify her. "We have 
 nothing here. I own a few hundred dollars, which 
 
eg- 
 
 en- 
 
 lub 
 ind 
 wn 
 ed, 
 
 'U 
 
 at, 
 :es 
 he 
 ut 
 ift 
 
 ly 
 'g 
 
 le 
 a 
 al 
 (e 
 If 
 :t 
 d 
 
 A Monetary Panic 33^ 
 
 "WS?. me'; a sorrtX'w"'' '':°''' '"'° ^''''ng- 
 to Scotland aTfind Lar"' ^« « ^° "ack 
 whodo„otk„o.ot^ro„re"'"°"^ old friend., 
 
 •■•.herBarbS ^""'^ ''^ 'o «■«• - .one?" 
 
 '•°wi^t'i:^i^^::=>^'-!'°''Mraghi™ 
 
 »ume such a burden Th^' /" "'"'«" could as- 
 Mled by an outraged ^ ?^'''" °f » defaulter, 
 hin, as a wife He^has 2; T"'" °"'^ "'"''" 
 "ot draw him into our abtemer"*^- "^ "' 
 "ot dignify him, depart fro '^- x/ y°" "" 
 -iMwantyouinnaSe"'""- ^° ^'"'-'' 
 
 P'-k'o«r;hrrand'S'H"'"'^'''- ^-"' 
 disgrace hi J ,et 'istawf re^"' "'"" """■ 
 
 the hui'g^^redirslhe^ '^T"" ""-^^'^ *° 
 refusingTo see any onf ,,7'^.''"'' ''''"^•'ter 
 
 «"' day in packingTheTr p/rsona. bir' •'''•""'^" 
 ^wsonWarV«Llra%^rr°^"- 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 The Flight to Scotland 
 
 No hint of the remarkable changes in Del- 
 hurst reached Ronan till he stepped, with 
 ilcLaw, from the train at the station, nine miles 
 away, and climbed into the familiar coach. There 
 the Jehu met him, with the question, "Have you 
 heard the news, Beverly?" 
 "What news, Jonas ?" 
 
 "The downfall of Alex Lawson's bank, and 
 the panic in the town. Many people are ruined, 
 and the banker is dead." 
 
 "Dead? daad?" stammered Ronan. "When 
 did this occur?" 
 
 "A few days ago; and his wife and daughter 
 have left the country, never to come back." 
 
 "Sinner" listened, aghast, to the crushing tid- 
 ings, and pitied the minister, whose hopes were 
 overthrown. Just as the beading cup was at his 
 lips, it was stricken from his hand. 
 
 His suffering was manifest, as he asked, "When 
 did they leave the village?" 
 
 "Day before yesterday," responded the coach- 
 man ; "and he was killed the day before." 
 "Killed?" 
 
 J38 
 
The Flight to Scotland 339 
 
 the conk wilK dub' a^ndT^, u''^"^ '"''" »" 
 H< never lce„ up a' a" ]■„• k" .'"'° '"« "ver. 
 afore now." continued , hi u- ' ' P"=''"el-bait 
 Greg a heap o' r^ckl a„d ,h '""""• ""•= °'^«'' 
 -•'h rage. He -st ^ "nof f^^^^r.-" -ffy 
 lawyers i, tryin' to unsnarr.h, K "' ""' "'= 
 
 what they kin. TheyS ' ?"'' ""' '^'<= 
 
 from the East there fe./w '??'"''" """»"' 
 fer Lawson. I reckon .hr^"'^"' '■°"" '''^'■"• 
 «o 'em, likewise." ""'^ """" ^l"" » comin' 
 
 a drlTonT wlnTe'tr ^^-'^ '"' "■''' - 
 
 Lawson family, his mofher''; 't V"""^ °' '^e 
 hurriedly related L, ^°°^ """^ »«'de, and 
 
 a 'etterL:;rri.thth\S'' '"'"*"^ "- 
 
 NorbTyou^rdoCh-jr ^'r ^-''- 
 
 father is dead- mJ mnTi ■ i^ ™»f°rtune. My 
 chicanery of DeyTe.r^I'r " "k'"'"°'^'' ''^ «he 
 
 I would only puC down 1":';::' " f '^''• 
 
 spoil your career. T „„ „ "u ■■ "' '*'''«' »"«> 
 - you once asked me toVv" ' Vu":'?" ' """' 
 you to renounce me Ynn m ^' ^ ""^ «»'' 
 more. Farewell 1 yZ ." ?"" ^" ""= 
 
 Jtour heart-broken 
 
 "Barbara." 
 
 fa.-rlTl":he"at:rf°'f' '"^ *'-^--'' af- 
 father.withft^naS"""'-'"''-^''^'''''^ 
 Lawyer Blundell." was the answer. 
 
340 
 
 A Modern Apolloi 
 
 f? 
 
 I': 
 
 In an hour, Beverly wa> shut in with the as- 
 •ignee, querying, "Where did the mother and 
 daughter go?" 
 
 "To Scotland," was the reply. "They left all 
 their interests here in my hands, and returned to 
 their native land. They were both born there, 
 and will not come back. As soon as they settle, 
 Mrs. Lawson will send me their address, and I 
 will report concerning the estate; but nothing will 
 be left for them. All is forfeited. There will not 
 be enough, by fifty thousand dollars, to meet l,aw- 
 son's legal obligations." 
 
 "'Had the mother much money when they 
 left?" inquired Beverly. 
 
 "Not very much, I fancy," said Blundell. "She 
 owned a few hundreds in cash, and that is what 
 she is now using; sufficient to take them abroad, 
 but not much more." 
 
 "What part of Scotland were they going to?" 
 "That they did not say. I suppose, however, 
 they will naturally go among her people, some- 
 where in the Highlands." 
 
 Ronan recalled Lawson's chat about early days 
 in Lochkirk, and resolved to seek them there, and 
 share what he had with the broken family. He 
 never loved his fiancee as now, and found a fierce 
 joy in the thought that now he could make a 
 great sacrifice for her. 
 
 "I will seek the world over till I find them," 
 he said to "Sinner," as they talked the tragedy 
 over. , 
 
 "You will no doubt find them near my old 
 
The Flight to Scotland 341 
 
 tome in Lochkirk. and I wilt go with you. For 
 thirty yean I yearned to liear the bagpipei ikirt 
 where the clanimen meet. I would be happy to 
 help Janet McCrea for the .ake o' auld lang .v„e. 
 now that >he is a woeful woman. I have money 
 enough yet, though I lo.t fome by the Deynell 
 
 Four day. later, the two men took ihip at 
 New York for Liverpool, determined to find the 
 Uwsons. McLaw was bubbling with the delight 
 of homecoming, and dropped into the speech which 
 
 ", , "" '"■*''' '°"8"« °' his kilted forbears " 
 It 1 michty," he assured Ronan, "the niver 
 deem love o' hame. Div ye ken I hear the burn 
 wimphn amang the knowes, and the pibroch 
 filhn the glen wi' 'Lochaber no More?' I'm 
 proudfu' the day." 
 
 When half across the sea, he lilted the well- 
 known tune, "O, came ye by Athol;" and Beverly 
 found him sitting at the bow on the sixth day, 
 lookmg eagerly landward, singing softly. "The 
 Lass o' Gowrie." 
 
 "I can sniff the bracken an' the gorse " he 
 said, when Ronan joked him about his new-found 
 youth, "an' hear the dingin' in the Clachan I Ave 
 but the linn rins clear among the moss! An' the 
 soond of Davit's psalms aye rises on the morn o' 
 the Sawbath-day in the kirk aboon the brae I I 
 shall tak oflF my bonnet among them soon. Aye 
 t IS bonnie to gang awa hame I" ' 
 
 The minister discovered that the farmer was 
 saturated with sentiment, and patriotism crowned 
 
i 
 
 342 A Modern Apollos 
 
 him like a flame. Ronan was addressed as the 
 "meenister," and assured they v/ould find "Janet 
 and the bit lass, never fear, in the Heelands 
 amang the wild beauty o' the world, as it left the 
 han' o' the Lord when newly made." 
 
 "Where else wad they gang?" he demanded. 
 How he boasted, in harmless pride, of the small 
 "land o' cakes" and its famous children, chant- 
 ing a ballad from Bums, whom he called the bulbul 
 of the heather ! 
 
 "Div ye ken Robbie, the poemer?" he queried 
 one day, as the gulls on slanting wings flew sea- 
 ward to meet the steamer. "Niver gie a sermon 
 without a wee bit o' his wark in it. The men saw 
 through the show o' things to the soul o' them. 
 O I" he cried, trippingly — 
 
 'Caledonia, proud and wild, 
 FI1 nurse for a poetic cliild 1* 
 
 Tis a barren land compared to Egypt, a dull 
 sky matched to Italy, but the whinstone birks 
 produce men of pith and prowess ;" and he paced 
 the deck, hour after hour, whistling, "Who 11 be 
 King but Charlie?" 
 
 When the long voyage of twelve days was 
 ended, the pair hastened from Liverpool to Loch- 
 kirk as fast as steam could carry them, and arrived 
 in the hill town at noon. They went .to the only 
 inn of the place, which is named "The Fleece," 
 and had dinner. McLaw recognized the landlady 
 as the daughter of the landlord of his youth, but 
 she knew him not. Trying hard to show no emo- 
 
The Flight to Scotland 
 
 343 
 
 "Henry McLaw," quoth the hostess; "yes sir- 
 cotttrol"- ' '"""' ''' -"■ P-. '^e Zt 
 
 supp°l:STeer„rHe'': °'\"'r '""'''"^ -'" 
 
 t^. Americans. ^ ^*'*' '"""""^^ »' 
 
 The farmer Iialterl "Pt.j« j . 
 
 ^i;'::,'/." '"■ ■"" "■ "■"« -» p-^. 
 
 to the portal "^ ^^"^^ ^S^d woman came 
 
344 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 iil 
 
 "How many sons have you ?" 
 "I hae but ane. I had anither, lang syne, but 
 he IS deed. 
 
 "When did he die, and where?" he faltered. 
 
 "I dinna ken that; but Ezra must be deed, or 
 I had seen him in a' these years syne he left his 
 home. 
 
 With all his pent-up affec-ion, the man spake 
 one word, "Mitherl" 
 
 Twas well he put his arms around her, else 
 she would have fallen heavily. Her sister, a few 
 years younger, came running at call; and the two 
 laid her on the couch. Soon she sat up, and looked 
 at her visitor. 
 
 "It is Ezra. O my son, my son! back from the 
 deed I" 
 
 A lad was passing the window. "Andrew," 
 she called, "come here. Run and bid your fayther 
 come here the now; rin fast, laddie; be hastefu'." 
 And he sped away. 
 
 Ezra said to his mother, when Beverly was 
 introduced and seated, "Let me reveal myself to 
 Henry." 
 
 "Vera weel ; but dinna o'erwhelm him, my son." 
 In a few moments a plain but well-favored 
 man of fifty-eight entered, looking inquisitively 
 from under shaggy brows at the newcomers. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," said McLaw, rising, "for 
 taking the liberty of a question. Do I look like 
 any one you have known ?" 
 
 Henry shook his head in the negative, when 
 Ezra smiled ; and the blood fled from the younger's 
 cheeks. 
 
The Flight to Scotland 345 
 
 "O mitherl" he crifA "n, 
 
 wanderer in his frater^alis '' '"'""''' '"«' 
 
 wHo^^a te hiVLit,'::, "-' -'^^•'-. 
 
 Poss.ble. concerning the Uwsons ' " """"^ " 
 
 crea;^aV"aa::Vierr." ^'""^"' -" - 
 'Tis ten years sTnce !T. ° "' """'' "'"<''«'• 
 
 and all their kin are djrf"" ""'' ^^'^ ^om .hem, 
 Edinboro." ^*"'' ""P' Janet's sister in 
 
 and?™a,Tl:;trh .:;^"'ri"'--"-on gathered; 
 
 Two daysVerrsVen .1 ""• ""P°«"nate lover 
 chased the whinstoneUua!; 'f" *.'"" ^"^ P"' 
 'eft her enough soveLvn^^ J" *"' "°"''^' ""d 
 h" tidily alfher daT ""^ ''""!'"°'" '<> ''"P 
 
 nephews beyond .he,r'v^desfH """"='' '"'^ ''^° 
 went to the Cam-tl. T, '*'■"'""■ Then they 
 son's sUur.^T:^::t°^f'^'^^^. ^"- ^aw- 
 stanceswer; unTrndltl'' "°' ^^°'' "''"'"- 
 nothing of the oSecS "thefr^'^'r- ^"^ """'^ 
 heard from them 1„ ° '"'"'"'''' »"<! had not 
 couraged. they went t?% ^""'- ^^"'°'' dis- 
 ship officU, but^t no tra"''^,'' '° ''"^h the 
 daughter. ' ^ot no trace of the mother and 
 
 hadtr;:^^trhe'?;;r v'"""'"^ '*°-" 
 
 AH the world ;as full of ^l t'"^ '" ^'' ™°'"- 
 Advent, and he ^s so'l° tch'ed '^"^ °' '"^ 
 
 to wS^^^atla^^ '- "^ "^"^"-d 
 
 "a.-ncountre^-. H:;irorhrgtrtis 
 
346 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 them on the table, backed up against the grate, 
 where a fire of sea-coals glowed, took the camelia 
 from his buttonhole, and remarked : 
 
 "It keeps a' what a change has come ower 
 me, an' you so fu' o' care. Ye dinna share the 
 Christmas mood at a.' Never despair, my lad; 
 we ni find them yet. I ken yer true hairt is sair 
 the day." 
 
 "I am disheartened, Ezra." 
 "iJinna fash yoursel'. Mister Ronan; by New 
 Year ye may be eatin' shortbread wi' Barbara, 
 happy as twa cruddlin' doves. Hogmanay is the 
 cheeriest time in Scotia, an' — " he ran to the win- 
 dow. "Beverly, come here, quick. See the man 
 an' woman goin' yonder? Div ye ken the pair. 
 It is no other than Phil Ellis and his wife, as big 
 as life. They 're goin' off in a carriage." 
 
 ^ "Sinner" was racing for a cab. A jehu came 
 quickly at his summons. "Catch that vehicle with 
 the baggage on top o' it, an' I '11 give you five 
 dollars— I mean a sovereign! Hurry now I Stir 
 yourself!" In ten minutes the other conveyance 
 was overtaken and stopped. McLaw ran to the 
 door, and said : "How are you. Captain Ellis and 
 Edith Satterlee ? How are you townies ?" 
 
 Greatly startled, Elliott took his hand, and 
 said, "What brings you here?" 
 
 "'T is a long story. Come to our hotel, and 
 see Ronan, and talk about it." 
 
 Mrs. Elliott was willing, and soon they were all 
 in Beverly's parlor, exchanging information. 
 
 "We are on our wedding tour," said the sol- 
 dier, "and left Colonel Satterlee among his old 
 
The Flight to Scotland 
 
 friends in Susscit jr„„i j 
 J° Wales to Z\ff^:^- ;jf -f -„t over 
 tone among them LT ''*'' « P'wsant 
 
 Highlands wh e„7ou saw"ur m"""^ '° "^ '^' 
 doing so far from home T" ""'' **"" "<= y°" 
 
 BeveS:'Sr;::;JS^^.on„.".p,ied 
 l"s romance. related the mam facts in 
 
 "T II u 
 No. 18 irn'm^edfatdy."" ^" "^ '"'^^''«^* ''"° ™o™ 
 
 Si/i; vtrd°r'his!"v''"^ *'" -■"««•" 
 
 bag, seized a little red K "P^'^ent, unbuckled a 
 '"e Pa.ty. Almost titirl '"r" '''=' "^ 
 
 '"£.-tlst^'^ --at^i-v :> 
 wor"of Shut 7S' "rf •• "^'-"'^- 
 
 "«y- Is this the rna^" '' ''""''" "•"» "ttor- 
 
 °f fish! Will wonderr„ ' ^ P'^''^ ''"t'e 
 
 Banagher.. as ^wt" ^o^ld T'tJ^'I "'"'' 
 tncate drama fits to^erh.; r> ^' . ^^^ "''«'■« '"- 
 Nuremberg clock uZlZ Itr "" T^''^ °' " 
 "What under the firr^ ^''^ ^^"^■" 
 
348 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 oU excitement in the western part of Pennsyl- 
 vania?" 
 
 "Yes," interjected Ronan, "and I heard you 
 went there and mixed in the speculation." 
 
 "Right again," laughed Philip; "and I hit it, 
 too. I put all my army savings into scrub-oak 
 ground, and have increased my money six times 
 over. I own half of a gusher on Oil Creek good 
 for a hundred barrels a day. I 'm no Coal-oil 
 Johnnie; but I am on the sunny side of Easy 
 Street sure as you're a foot high. But that's 
 neither here nor there, men. The finest part of 
 the story is this: Right in between two of the 
 big spouters— the Monarch Well and the 'No Bot- 
 tom'— which is the banner discovery of the whole 
 district is a quarter section of land which all the 
 mvestors are trying to buy. It is worth a thou- 
 sand dollars an acre; and there are one hundred 
 and sixty acres of it. Jeewhillikers, Ronan! Get 
 up and shout, man I Why do n't you enthuse, you 
 cold-blooded snail? Whoopee I What sort of a 
 crustacean are you?" 
 
 "Hold your horses, Phil," said McLaw. "Why 
 should he have hallelujahs over this matter? 
 Where does he come in ?" 
 
 "Right here, you lunkheads. That land is— or 
 was— owned by Alex Lawson, your father-in-law- 
 elect, or whatever it is. His widow owns it now. 
 There have been several men in Delhurst trying 
 to buy it. I sent one myself to get an option at 
 the price I mentioned. They all came back, and 
 said Lawson was dead; but he had not turned 
 over this acreage to his creditors, probably because 
 
The Flight to Scotland 
 
 349 
 
 he forgot all about it TJ,- * 
 
 title is clear; fori ooS : "" "« 9 P^id- The 
 
 rn t!!..''"J""^-''"'':» deb.,*and 
 
 "P. and if Mrs. Uw- 
 
 ^^vewhatiiaidforr 4":^^ 
 
 ev in a w«.i, 'ri.-_ "ju'tit, ana 
 
 money enough 
 
 over 
 
 to 
 
 s3ng LXd fo' heVthi'"" °'-;'"-« "'^"U 
 know." "" ""' veO' day, as I well 
 
 whoIStSii^!Jir"T-: "^-'''^"- 
 
 screwed on rig^lt^X." "" ''^"°" "'"' "^'^ ""' 
 
 I remember," said Beverlv "t,.. ■ , 
 mention some land he owned in thaf " ^ ^*'°" 
 he evidently considered if 1, "'"titty; but 
 find them at once " °"''''"- '^^ »"^t 
 
 To s?;e rne; td rS tt*^°"' '^l' '"""'^ ""'^ = 
 passage on a s'amngvLe, instead' T' """ '^''^" 
 and, being some three week^ln 1 "•""'"''"> = 
 landed in Greenock hlnj ? ""' '"P' ''»<' ^ut 
 school-girl com2n tthe il'^'T °' ' 
 Mrs. Lawson's closest friend ft. ' ° *"' 
 determined to h'de awhS tin „, •■" !"""' '>"= 
 for the future. '''*'" '=°"" «>e laid 
 
 muiScS Se ::„rt" r "^ *"' "•""•• 
 
 the rush of holiday .^aC Vt'T' u '"'"^ 
 ter go back to Ed;„K ■ """'' *« ''ad bet- 
 
 siste^r once mor^"?°hL'^r T """^'^^ '">' 
 now." • ^"^P^ '^' ""as some tidings 
 
 anadrniSe^.X^Kh^"'" '"^ ^"■•°-' 
 
 ^w«.s,toh.-deK:a'^;-rrs^;- 
 
35° 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 der an assumed name, and did not read the daily 
 journals, so knew nothing of the pursuit. 
 
 For the twentieth time they loitered down to 
 the shipping office, and learned that a vessel had 
 come in from New York yesterday. 
 
 "Were there two persons— mother and daugh- 
 ter—on the ship, named Lawson?" 
 
 The clerk scanned the passenger list. "No 
 Lawson," he said, "is on this paper." 
 "Did you notice such a pair ?" 
 "I saw two women, lo -king like mother and 
 daughter, come down the plank from the landing 
 boat. There is the cabman who took them up 
 town. I saw them go with him." 
 
 "Did you see them ?" Beverly demanded of the 
 listening jehu. 
 
 "Ya-as ; I had 'em for fares, an' took 'em to 
 Cassell's boarding-house. Old leJdy and youne 
 un." " 
 
 "Get us there as quickly as possible," ordered 
 Ronan. "Climb in, Ezra. Thank Heaven I we are 
 near them at last." 
 
 "Don't be too boisterous, Beverly. These 
 folks have another name." 
 
 "I feel we are close to them. I am sure they 
 are not far away now." 
 
 Swiftly they were hurried to Cassell's, and 
 found It a clean, middle-class house, into which 
 Ronan rushed. 
 
 "Have you a lady and daughter from America 
 here?"— this to the florid dame who came to the 
 door, a woman of bulbous fleshiness and great 
 girth, who stood, with arms akimbo, and said, with 
 
The Flight to Scotland 
 
 heVSr '"■'"' "'-" «-d down over b^j 
 
 nij' '•^•'.^"terday; but the, ieft the city,... 
 
 ^^.^^„.s,r. they d.d„'tullcm„ch about any. 
 to .nr„ "°"" "'^ "•""- -ho took them 
 
 The woman rlin • ' ' y°" «"• 
 
 -n were s^re" .h VZ" on^ "i"."^ = ""-^ '°^' 
 . "They wuz heaWly veiled In' ""t'^^' '"^''• 
 ■n deep trouble. The v^unf ' ' ^ '°"''' "^' *"^ 
 » bird, an- cryin' all the 2 °r"' "' "° -"o^^ 'n 
 out the windP. ,„. V''^".'"^• I seed 'er lookin' 
 
 ma 
 out 
 
 -tthewmde;:a„.re:;'.r ^ -d 'er loo 
 
 «^. 'Don't cry danth, r^-*"P'"'- Her.... 
 
 mournin- like he^ heart w- f '^' '""' ""^ 
 
 arms around each othl - "• ^'''" they put 
 
 '°"S time. Some wl 'nt """ '°^«''- '»' a 
 
 Ronan drew a X frot T 7^' '° •'^"'" 
 
 opened it, and said- "DW !. *"' breast-pocket, 
 
 '■''e 'he original of'th^ n.w" ^T"l ^°""'" '°°k 
 
 resemble her face'" '^ "'' '^°" this face 
 
 «''eLt.r°:X!^--''''«'a-a:..rtisber 
 
3ja 
 
 A Modern ApoUoi 
 
 Beverly'i face was in his hands in uncontrollable 
 grief. "Poor child! Poor child!" he sobbed. 
 "Where are you now, bearing your heavy load, 
 and I far from you I O that I could support 
 you in this black hour!" 
 
 "Hoot, mon?" protested Eira, melting into hit 
 environment and brushing suspicious moisture 
 from the corner of his eye. "What havers have 
 you the noo? Dinna fash yersel' an' deave the 
 hoose wi' yere greetln.' I'll wager a scone the 
 Lawsons will be delivered into your hand ere a 
 fortnicht goes ower oor heeds. Ye maun'na be 
 cast doon, laddie." 
 
CHAPTER XXVn 
 
 A Lover's Quest 
 
 LET M have another talk with .h.. 
 . " 'Auld Reekie.' I, ?.*",. »''" ^man In 
 know more now," argued "s '.'"'' '*'« "'»>' 
 «he morning after thel failure ." '" ^^'"8°* 
 much-wanted family '"" '° '"'"«pt the 
 
 .ueSit"!'"' "' *"" »- "»» '«" week r 
 
 ^onMhe^ yesterday. Ktws^ "'' ■»- 
 
 went to EdinburX'rhf Iter ha^" '''''' ""^ 
 was surprised to know ran« a J"" "'*»■ »"<» 
 in Scotland. •'""•' «"'' her child were 
 
 ed.2llerrw«TS'i:t' *r" "'"'-'- 
 was dearer to Jane. tha„ tr '" •°""''"' "" 
 were gey intimate yr^k"„''"?r, '"'"• "They 
 ane cradle." she rern'mbore'd "" ""°' « '"« 
 
 What is her name.'" asked Beverly 
 Hil.aSiral''°^,,^^''-''--Sednameis 
 
A Modera Apollot 
 
 dwell?" wai queried by 
 
 354 
 
 "Where doe> ihe 
 Ronan. 
 
 "In Roxhire (omewhere, but I dinna ken the 
 name of the toon. 'Tis a inu' place. It may 
 be my mon micht know." 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy I" ihe ihrilled, "come ben. Div 
 ye ken the village where Kate Hillard lives the 
 noo ?" 
 
 He was a railway porter of intelligence and 
 plain sense. 
 
 "I do," he answered, "richt weel. I billed some 
 boxes there last week. It is Kinnairn, no other." 
 
 Thanking them for the clue, the two men went 
 to seek rest, and early next morning were hurry- 
 ing toward the Shire of Ross in the bleak North. 
 
 That very morning the Uwsons had reached 
 Kmnairn by the post coach, and lodged at the 
 town inn. The mother was ill, and scarcely able 
 to enter the hostelry. She went at once to bed, 
 her daughter attending her. 
 
 "We will not go to Mrs. Hillard's," she de- 
 clared, "till we see if they want us and have room 
 for us." 
 
 When the elder lady was comfortable, the 
 younger put on her cloak to call on her mother's 
 friend, whom she had never seen. 
 
 "Take this sampler, Barbara," requested her 
 parent. "Kate will know it at once. She has one 
 just like it, and we stitched them when we were 
 lasses. The very threads are the same." 
 
 Putting it in her cloak pocket, the girl made 
 her way to the house of the Hillards, not very far 
 away. A demure woman, verging on old age, made 
 
•Weawnce at the door i 
 
 A Lover's Queit 
 
 355 
 
 I re.pon.e to her knock, 
 i"8. ComcT;-'" "" ""''• ^'"'""y- "Good mom- 
 
 •Prcadoutthe Jr,;,., IC'^'"'' !!" '"' '"' 
 'o .peak, when ,1 ! , , .,,,7 ;-"'' wa» about 
 Breat excitemer' , ,1 : "" " "P '" 
 
 'How catTc > u. »» . 
 
 yenool Ye.,v . ,., v'^""""' ^'" ' '''" 
 
 htr eyes as w. , i aVl, r , .*" • """' " '' '• '^* ''*<' 
 
 Outofth. r:o,n»„ . ..T, 1 '.u" "■ I"""'*""" 
 
 her ascending th ■ i- , '„ ', *""°'' heard 
 
 maged in a chest .„ tV" '..,';' '", , !''* "'"" 
 
 another sampler or ■ Tk " '""S*" ''""n 
 
 that one had worked in i.th. "'!'^; ""?»'"? 
 
 While the other read' >!? M^ "'^'''^ ^"-" 
 
 .n.ih5" wh"^ [het™"'' •"'"'' ^•'' "-"'«''<•. 
 "Rthtfullv " "'"P""«°n was finished. 
 
 -ht^il've'ft'tortX^'" ^~ "My 
 i. she „y ""'''' ''■""•'^ •"''''°" '•"-• where 
 
 o.d-Se Wend-'™ ""'"' '"" -"" 'o '« "- 
 
 theScrti" ^;" - »-." responded 
 '•ng to the inn ** "''^ *"' »°°" ^asten- 
 
 Ari' s^;/ dtr '■;■■" .""' "^-^p""-'-' 
 
3S6 
 
 A Modern Apollos 
 
 "Do you 
 
 broke through the cloud that had settled on her 
 brow. 
 
 In the afternoon they slept, and after tea Kate 
 got out the package of letters she had received 
 from Janet in the long separation, and read them 
 over while the grown children listened; and 
 Mr. I 'Hard, a stonemason, sat looking on well 
 pleased. 
 
 One of the early chronicles from the New 
 World told that her husband, Alex, was discour- 
 aged, and would probably return to Scotland. 
 
 When Barbara heard this, it gave her a start, 
 and she said, vehemently: "I am glad father 
 changed his mind, and did not go back to his early 
 home." ' 
 
 "Why?" said the man of the house, 
 not love your native land?" 
 
 "With every drop of my blood," she answered, 
 
 ardently. "I love it; but I love America, too; and 
 
 hfe could never have been here what it was there " 
 
 She was thinking of her lover. All her life was 
 
 with him, and seas rolled between. 
 
 When the letters were laid aside, they fell into 
 converse on the past. The two friends recalled 
 their youth. Scene after scene slipped from the 
 camera of memory, and stretched before the inner 
 eye. Once more the bluebells along the hedge- 
 rows mocked the bending skies, as through the 
 flock-whitened meadows they wandered arm in 
 arm. Once more the scariet poppies floated high 
 on the billows of ripened wheat. Again the moor- 
 hen called her scattered brood, and the hare leaped 
 across the path through the rustling rye. Again 
 
A Lover's Quest 357 
 
 teen, looking into tl,e „f ■ *^'"'' *' '*eet six- 
 -hat li/e would briitfttr^'r" -l^^t-nin^ 
 ■ncredible thing ha^p^ened ^"'' '''''°''" "" 
 
 So elusive is thi. ti,. j 
 tern o, the life .hat IZTC """""^ '"' P'''" 
 •wnd can surpass the pTah' trth •" '•""'^"^ °' ">e 
 "ystery. There surely s'oL '",'" '"»">«able 
 telepathic influence LXh""*^""' ^"""^ 
 hends another, without visTbleco""' """'' "PP''" 
 even as Ronan and 4inne '" h "''°"'''"'' = '°' 
 ^''■d home, nigh to the end ^7^-"'" ""= »"- 
 
 S^-^^SHo:?;---^ 
 
 •.ee^rriruc^-^-^ 
 
 fich^rtherdrawSLi''' "''Z" ^-'"'«. 
 It is believed he wen fff "^"1'^ '™'" Scotland 
 Wiled Lawson." """^ "•= feeling he had 
 
 "It is too badl" said n,. -j 
 knew how my husband ltd ,„ " T- ""^ ""* 
 and claimed his injury It a° T ''? "^P"'"""". 
 ably died under an asfumeH ^""'"''"- He prob- 
 'hunning the office's o7t1,"?'' ="'^""'") "an, 
 often said he wished he could f. J"'' ^^"-" 
 »P the matter. He said thT^ '' ^"'' *« ^'ear 
 «!, and, Mctaw bein ' imn . ^'°^°^"^ '"e quar- 
 done-" ""^^ "npetuous, the mischief was 
 
3S8 A Modern Apollos 
 
 Is Mrs. Lawson here?" asked "Sinner" 
 sne IS, sir ; come in," said Hillard 
 
 tHerr:rdtTr^;-fr^^Lr-: 
 
 Perin, tender na„,e^;. ^^^ llte'rthrirt 
 
 o;:::t^r.idtLTd "d"- ^""- 
 
 "uri, X... aazea, and said, as startled 
 
 Where am I ?" trembling like a leaf ' 
 
 Ifou are safe, dear; safe at last I T i, 
 
 t^ea And this,' he said, "is Kate Allen. I re- 
 member seeing you at Lochkirk thirty yea s ag"' 
 
 after Barbara was at ease, to the story of McUw's 
 
 "Until recently," he declared, "I thought Alex 
 Lawson dead by my hand, and bore thafburde" 
 
 a thev sfid ■■' °"'" '^ '■'"' ^''°' '^'-^'^'f^ and 
 as they said he was in death's grip, I went awav 
 
 believing I had destroyed a noble'man Not ti^' 
 
A Lover's Quest 
 
 I met Beverly in Millh,ni, .. • ^^' 
 
 Alex was alive. I was m.t ' *'' ^ '«"" that 
 turn to the Highh,rd, ^''^"^ P^«P"ations to re 
 
 p-ge n,y sou.,^whe„ the t:7:r:r "■■""= -« 
 
 I then ^ent M'esc with Rona„ n '"""^ '° ""=■ 
 band, but arrived too late H. "L"' •^■°"'- hus- 
 ;;-* ^one. We h^ve sea'ch'd fT ""''■ '"' >-°« 
 We are overjoyed to find v„„ T *^^"- *'"«. 
 
 Barbara entered tl, ^ ' J''"^*- 
 B- -id. e::r,;'■^^.rr^«T"•-™.a„d 
 
 '"?'niageofyo„atLra^/ T; '''" '^ '^^ "- 
 again." «"<=•• age. It brings it all back 
 
 "Now," said Beverlv ", 
 
 -- untold. IdesIr?;oX"°'"'^"°^>'- 
 
 After this night I an, fit ,n t <" '"°"'"'= heel! 
 
 "You beltved vour\ k '"'" anything." 
 "'■^i-.^-'-beganToU""^"" ^.eci insolent. 
 
 failure,"'she?n'sw7red'"'"" '"''"''' '" ^eyneir, 
 
 |and;:The"n^!::::VS^- "--^dso^e 
 ■' -s worth more^than ,3 °'" ' '°"^- ''"d "ow 
 
 Mrs. Lawson asLd. wh n'sh '"^-f "^e-sure ?" 
 
 Beyond all cavil kt "''' ^"'^ ^™'-ds. 
 
 L^t your soul spread it«- °"' ''""^ 8-^'"'ay i, 
 ex.-stenceonwharit:::;:f:„;,,w.".aJ„, 
 
 •Barbara walked over to ,„e-coLge organ, sat 
 
3<5o A Modern Apollos 
 
 down on the stool, and put her fingers on the 
 keys. Ronan caught the first note, and sang, with 
 full utterance, "Praise God, from whom all bless- 
 ings flow." 
 
 When silence lay again on the happy group 
 be spoke once more : "You will go with us to-mor- 
 row to Glasgow. There we will meet Mr. Elliott. 
 who will manage the sale for us ; and we will re- 
 turn to Delhurst and pay all your defco. The 
 old liome will be yours again, and the oU church 
 will have a wedding, provided Barbara ii ready 
 to name the day." 
 
 The following morning they went southward 
 and called Philip Elliott to town by a telegrwa. 
 In two days he arrived, and, his wife desiring Tm 
 go home, they left the Colonel in SuMe:., aad 
 agreed to sail westward together. 
 
 In the hotel he met another oil m.an in p«n-- 
 suit of the Lawsons, who said he would like to 
 buy the widow's tract of land at one hundred anri 
 seventy-five thousand dollars, and pay ten thou- 
 sand down, on the nail for a thirtv-days' option 
 on It. ■ ^ r 
 
 They had to wait two days for a steam vessel 
 to New York; and the town never held a happier 
 party. 
 
 "Sinner" particularly was rejuvenated; for be 
 had the daily company of his youthful sweetheart 
 His seamed face was wholly spiritualized by recent 
 experiences ; and he was so attentive and unweari- 
 able m hir .devotion to her that Beverly surmised 
 he might wii. Janet McCrea yet. Even as the 
 tide follows the moon, so he followed her. 
 
A Lover's Quest 
 
 361 
 
 »w a sign of k lar'f \T"' °' ""^ ''«'^'^- he 
 Bev.bycricky that?!h 1'"^°°''^ ''™- "Say, 
 
 go in." • """ ' P'°"""<i to see him. Let us 
 "Very good," assented the preacher 
 
 visit, and he was pv„...- • „ ""^ promised 
 an hour, and ^^sU^^ Jal'him^t'S' f ^"^'^ '- 
 notes as he left him, saying 'ZyZfTT"' 
 nest egg." "*J""e- i-ay that by for a 
 
 Going downstairs, Beverly said • "u 
 notice how nal, ,.,^ • 7 , / • ^"a, did you 
 
 I did; and ,t pained me," he replied 
 
 It i» th^e ,andTopp!r:r "° J:ti\'''"^- 
 chance to make a man of himself" ^' ''°' =* 
 
 Let us go back," said McLaw as a li,rl,. 1 ■ 
 died m his eyes. He called hu ^'" ^'"- 
 
 No, s.r; I have no thought of i,." 
 
362 A Modern ApoUot 
 
 'Pare^." Wallace H^TZlZ; '"^' " ' '"' 
 .o J:''n,eT°"°"' ^"="' "o y°« "ally „,^ 
 friends. IWlIwair- ^ ^°°''"'''' '° y*""" 
 
 he straightened hi, , .„\ ^'■'^" '™'" l^"' " 
 
 amon^^eo^^i/rntletX-" "' ^"" 
 
 Amett'iL'i/..^ t^, f^lT ^"'"'•- T° 
 'ure, and all hi? ^ "* 'airly beamed with rap- 
 
 will overtake y^f Wal"/" ""' '°'"' ''^^- ^« 
 
 On the street "Sinner" Mt p„_ 
 to purchase a full outfit or fhe ""." ^'"' ""^ 
 one could declare Xi, ^°""'' a"<l "o 
 
 Millbank had heard t™:i"r,"'""''''= ^^^ 
 motto was "Com™., ™ ''^'''"* ''"at his 
 cashisindhpensabT '°" '^ ^■"'"endable. but 
 
 Pas5:^Sl:£Srjj-.eras.ormy 
 a few days in .he great cUy "''' """^ 'P"" 
 
 ^oS' r pirtsCriiih r b'^r^ ^-'^ -'^^ 
 
 c.Wt. the sale ottl'lL-?"-^-^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
A Lover's Qucit 
 
 the 
 I'm 
 
 to- 
 
 " 363 
 
 was consummated, subiect t„ 
 and when the deed waVpu il , " r"'"«'ons ; 
 *"h a bond duly J'lZ • "°"' '" "•« bank 
 faughter, half the ": e ^r/" ''/ '"°"'er and 
 thousand dollars Was paTd /„h ° '*° ''""'^^^d 
 went Beverly Mrs r , ' ''*'''' '" Delhurst 
 
 The little' own rat ler- T' '"^^ '^^'-ehte; 
 -de home in T 2' aTd' tl" "^'"'"' " '"'^ 
 ■P.to hp with electric s;eed tL"'"!,-'''" ''°'" 
 their agents were summoned J^ ."'*'°" """^ 
 accept full cash payment an^l ' ''''"^ ^'^^ to 
 eral properties, the oWw '""'""" "'^ '"- 
 them again; and the first m """ '°°" ^^'="«^d *» 
 ''^"- « Mrs. Lawsonwl, "''''''' '/ **^' «'""- 
 *'th interest in full ^ '' *"' '° Mrs. Bailey, 
 
 ^-•d .-t outwent any^hil' ■„",?: h "' ""^ "^^"^ 
 ^ointry; and the young fok, h T^ °' ""= 
 «fons for attending p, ,^^" "'^'■'- Prepa- 
 
 "Hdai. Which iTsi'jz"':^:"' ^"'^'^-^ ' 
 
 sa.d, "to make all the did.; , J" ,^ ^'age-driver 
 helt in this corner o'the'^''^'^'''""'^ ever 
 ;aci<eyer 'en a .i„rer-: overair?^ ''"''''' '°°'' 
 f«l 'an a week-old waffle n^l' .f°'^ '"'■'■°«'- 
 "acking his whip l"e a ° "0?"- ''^''='^'«^^''• 
 on her new frock an' r,^ ? ' " «^°'" 'o git 
 the hilaryousnesr:,", be six fo Vr""'-^°°'" -• -' 
 thar er tharabouts vl ^ '°°' "^"P °" a level, 
 Jeep it a-tootin- an' aSlin'^trnTh' '"°°- ' '" 
 done an' the shiveree is orr u ""P'hulls is 
 will that." " " "ve"^' Of bust my biler. I 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 The End of the Story 
 
 TJE who walked, on the first day of March u» 
 
 w^i.:toTd":erdit^:r^^'r'"H;e^ 
 
 where idlers lolansummt T '""'"* •"""■ 
 .uoit-p,ayers f^tch VhoTe/hoeTtr '^ V '^ '!" 
 the stage-coach to hL .1 ' *"** »'»""'g for 
 
 h s hands encas^H ;„ . • j . "' ''"PP'og 
 
 LawtnrS^de'a'jbir^'''"^' '"* ''='"«'"" °' 
 
 .roSi*::dS:^XSS'a;t:^'"' 
 £^SrSt~rS~- 
 
 -o„^;;.s..n,.ade.thi:tr:i^S-- 
 36( 
 
^''e End of the Story 
 
 the bride wfr "eLtCl'" ^"""^ '"•""» of 
 nshed room; loop of e^er j^' P'«'"- ^""^Wur- 
 
 Ple-chceked girl wa7p ' ^t? u' 'P°'''"- A" ap- 
 on the small orgrn,VMf/="S the wedding marfh 
 
 ""« only for'^e , added a r^"' t' ' '""""^ 
 mantling face. Tl,e !re,t ' !!" '"'"'' '° "^^ 
 and wheezed as if it kn^w L ""°^'' "^'^'"'^ 
 -nd actually tried to roaT ThI'"'' "'" '"""^h- 
 '? th« tune that rinsed^th ;?"' accompaniment 
 *ngy tabernacle. " '"^'" "''ody, the 
 
 Barbara was at »(■• t. . 
 'piled in about eleven o'cwi '"'■'u "■' '"^ ^oach 
 «de; and, as a A^c roll nt :r.'\^''™'y at her 
 was handed down from th/: "'^ '°' "" '"^alid 
 «id. "Now, Mr. Fo ey whe,Hh °'J'"' ^"'^*- ^^e 
 "The Minty" did «!„, '^j "'''''' »"" •"«." 
 »o<;n to a house surroundedt'' ""'' ""^^ "me 
 main highway. To Iws "h! ^ '''" ""^ 'he 
 follows with the chair '"''"' "'"' barney 
 
 wa/^'ed^ri?--/ r^"'°-'x Clean, 
 with marks of pai„ fl!"'' *''°^« face was lined 
 
 '-^o.d.satU4tra°:rw~'--- 
 
 ■n.the tremulous vdce of' suff '' ''" ""^^^^'^ 
 finished your veil, eef" a!?? 7 ''''^^ J^' 
 fleecy tissue across thj fAu '?* '^°°^ O"' a 
 Is n't it exquisite" °°"'°"<' "' her couch. 
 
 "Ves, indeed it is." replied Miss Uwson; "and 
 
366 
 
 A Modern ApoHoi 
 
 •u it looki a> light as woven air. But El.ie do 
 
 out. I can .hee. Kr^.tnT T i^ ^ ^ 
 of ^-ey Barbara. Why di'd you do thlX me r 
 
 one tn h lf° '"'PP^ "■>■"" "«" I "''nt every 
 one to be glad on my bridal day. I wi,h i "!.M 
 ch.rk up the whole round world. 'ThatTa.l I wi"l 
 
 moisture filmed her eyes as she spoke 
 
 'That is why I got this chair, Mrs. Bailey And 
 Six young men and several young women her, 
 promised me that next summ'er 4rsha," ha"e 
 many an outmg. Moreover, Mr. Foley here ^! 
 commg at half-past two o'clock to wheel her to 
 he church to my wedding. I want her therl n 
 
 ir,H m" 'T"' ^^"^ '■"= "" »« it all " d^ 
 clared M.ss Lawson, and, turning to the suffertr 
 ^he went on, archly, "There won't be any cer,L' 
 -^ony unless you are there. Elsie; and you willed 
 a v^g^ng if you keep the proces'sion iiLt'^ 
 
 "You Lir^" '"" """' ''^^'"'"^ wondrously: 
 You re the beatemst hand at doin' clever things 
 
The End of ,hc Story 
 
 •hat ever lived ttt ■ , 
 
 •he mother. "W, ° ' *^ "^ ''« *«" off," jook, 
 
 K°t a gourd half full o'^*' ?. ^. '" ^o"- Elsie ! 
 fcr b rthday, and Chri.mufsl ''"r" ^°" «''^ ^er 
 « h'ftin' em .hi, mo „?„•"! '""."='"• She was 
 her a nice funeral some day sh?'" '"'^ '" «■'- 
 to find another sich a fnVnT "" ' """■ feel 
 
 "ore 'n no.hin". She L". 7 •^°" " •>«" '° her 
 """i^' o' it, and ,keerei " '""'^■'"'' «"" •"• 
 
 BaiS:'^i^:K:s-7-"'--=«°".er 
 
 fore she was injured, and linl"; "r"""' '°"^ ''- 
 Mr Ronan will „„/ hinder L " '^"«^ "' *^ "ve- 
 I *■" write to her of.eL " "' '" ""' ^°'k' and 
 
 HanJk;:^'"?^,;^- ^^e.. "Bev is f^e- 
 h.. body. I Ve knowed Wm «?" ' """" ''°"'= '" 
 '" Var often, wlsha ^ -^'""' ""' *" '» '*"'" 
 enough." """ ">'" you both sure 
 
 An hour before ti.- 
 -as filled, and the wotenTe'r?" ■''"■' '"^ ^'"'-'' 
 housewife called "a go^ TL" !"J°^'"» *hat one 
 ">e bride and her atrire.ht ° '""''" "'"="«'"& 
 pe«8. *""*• 'he groom and his pros- 
 
 "They 'II do well „ 
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 ^^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phon. 
 
368 
 
 A Modern ApoUos 
 
 cows they were milking and how many turkeys 
 they sold lately. The wives debated churning 
 making doughnuts and cup-cake, and one was in 
 the middle of— 
 
 "The quilt was really scrumptious, forty-four 
 
 log-cabin blocks, with enough pieces to " 
 
 Jingle! jingle 1 came the clamoring sleigh-bells 
 and the bridal party drove up to the chapel. 
 
 Up the aisle they came, slowly, as the music 
 drew them on. At the altar stood the prison chap- 
 iam, whom Ronan had invited, and the aged pastor 
 of the Church. Elsie, in her new chair in the 
 corner^ had the chief joy of her uneventful 
 life. Few such well-matched pairs have made the 
 responses in the grand old service. More than 
 one maiden sighed with longing, as true manliness 
 and modest beauty stood there, to be mated for 
 life, to have and to hold from this day forth" 
 and, when they were sealed in wedlock, the grave 
 and reverend seniors agreed that a bridegroom 
 more gallant, a bride more bewitching, had never 
 paced old Delhurst church. The music broke 
 forth again as he led her to the door, and they 
 were driven to the Lawson home, where re- ry 
 ran high all evening and far into the night. In- 
 deed, It was cock-crow when the last group left 
 
 Phil Elljott and his wife had come all the way 
 from Millbank to attend the ceremony, and after 
 the supper, Beverly said : 
 
 "Did you ever unravel the mystery of that 
 ghost in the mill, of which you told us in the 
 prison?" 
 
 "Yes," chuckled the Captain; "when we got 
 
The End of the Story 369 
 
 the rake-hellers holed up i„ that underground 
 domicile I recogniz-: one of them as one of the 
 four in the mill. He told me Moulton's sister, who 
 lived there, tried to scare him out of the business 
 by playing the ghost at his rendezvous; and her 
 ^ver, who was with her, saw me spying around. 
 When I was on the wheel, he opened the head- 
 gate with an iron bar, and swept me mto the river. 
 I hey told the men about it afterward, and de- 
 clared they had got rid of an eavesdropper by the 
 water-cure. So they had, for a time." 
 
 The next day, "Cinner" told Ronan he had 
 deeded to double Laura's bequest, and asked a 
 awyer to draw up a deed of gift, conveying thirty 
 thousand dollars to endow the Mission, which his 
 daughter s legacy was to build. He also promised 
 that all his remaining property should, at his death 
 go to the same purpose. 
 
 One who has visited the well-known McLaw 
 Mission in that great Eastern city will remember 
 the memorial window in the western end of the 
 bui ding, over the pulpit of the auditorium; and 
 If there m the afternoon, will recall how the de- 
 chning sun touches it with roseate splendor and 
 Woods the room with subdued radiance. At the 
 base of its many-tinted and harmonious panels 
 IS the hne, "In memory of Laura McLaw;" and 
 under it the text, "She hath done what she 
 could. 
 
 The institution is a hive of busy helpers of man- 
 kind, and IS now acknowledged to be the' model 
 Mission Church of America. Gome friends artued 
 with Ronan to have him build a fine church, and 
 »4 
 
37° A Modern ApoUos 
 
 use his great eloquence in the service of those 
 who were socially h'^her; but he .aid 
 
 world if Tm""''' "i" ^^"""^ '^' "g'" °f 'he 
 world. It should go, therefore, where the dark- 
 
 deep m the surf, w^ere the reefs are cruel and 
 sharp to warn the s.nlors off the sunken ledge" 
 and beckon the mariners into the safe harbor 
 Moreover" he declared, "we must be true to the 
 purpose of the woman who built, and the man who 
 endowed the Church. The prosperous people have 
 no lack of Shepherds. We will abide here " 
 
 He IS old now, but his eye is not dimmed, nor 
 
 tell r^H^'''' '"' "^"°" '° "'^ East ;ften 
 tell on the.r return, of the indescribable witchery 
 of h. speech; how they were toned up by his 
 dauntless faith, and of the imperishable love givl" 
 h.m by the people around. They also assert that 
 somet.mes, when his head is tossed back in the 
 stress of some burnmg appeal, the white hair, fall- 
 ing aside, shows the scar above his temple, made 
 
 hfs wUe °" "'' ''^""'" ''■°'" ""^ ■■"<="* °f 
 
 helf!' !'•"" ■'"'''''"' °' ''" *°'"^"' his earnest 
 helptneet m every endeavor; and most of his suc- 
 «s^s IS due to her gentle and unfaltering consecra- 
 
 For many years they had two annual visitors. 
 One was Foley, who, with his share of the island 
 treasure, bought an oyster craft on the Chesa- 
 peake. He often took the sturdv boy, Beverlv 
 the second, on his knee, and told him about his 
 chpper-built catboat "heelin" up the bay wid a 
 
The End of the Story 
 
 bone in her teeth," and liked nothing better .h,n 
 to vex the larl till 1,;. » l """s mtrer than 
 
 childish fnry' ^"^ ^ '"""" "'"°<'«<' '» 
 
 La J wh "'!',° ""'" ^^"'^ ^"^ "Sinner" Mc- 
 
 woki^V ""•'■■"'' 'P^"' " ""'""'• enjoying the 
 
 rtciaimed He seldom took part in any service 
 but ,vas always present when in the c.ty ' 
 
 H:£«L^^^h:-=^:fH 
 
 Ihile tht """''f" ^''^ '"■^ ''^PO^nre that, 
 
 whde they communed with one another, he had 
 heard and answered the call of One who aid for 
 
 "This'da Tl T"" ''""" ■■" => '"-off 'and 
 This day Shalt thou be with me in Paradise."