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Lea diagrammes suivants illustrant la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOrY RISOUinON TBT CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) LS, |2^ |Z5 l» ^^ ■■i Itt |3j2 ■ 2.2 Ih ■■■ M lAO 12.0 ^ APPLIED IM/OE Inc 5 16M East Mom S»r«rt RociwatW, Nm York 14609 USA (716) 462 - 0300 - Ptwn* (716) 288 - 5989 - Fox ^ q^ /.) M / ^. y(;jtc-^ AMOS JUDD AMOS JUDD BY J. A. MITCHELL IIXU8TRATKI) BY A. I. MJtLLM TORONTO COPP, CLARK COMPANY, Ltd. 1901 Oopvrig)u, ms, mi, »y CTkorfe* acribM,>, Bon, ILLUSTRATIONS FROM DKAWIKOS IX COLOR BV A. I. KELLER ^'^""^ TiUe-Page "How much do they represent, the whole lot" !?.„. Facing page 18 "/ beg your pardon, /— / „>tu startled" 43 It seemed a lougjve minutes j^^ Gently rocking with both feet on the ground m "I thank you, Bull, for chasing me into Molly Cabot's heart" "He is the image of you" " The end has come, my Moll' 182 206 250 AMOS JUDD jk T the station of Bingham Cross Roads /% four passengers got off the train. -JL ,^^ One, a woman with bundles, who was evidently familiar with her surroundings, walked rapidly away through the hot Septem- ber sunshine toward the little village in the distance. The other three stood on the platform and looked about, as if taking their bearings. They were foreigners of an unfamiliar species. Their fellow-passengers in the car had discussed them with an interest not entirely free fitim suspicion, and their finally getting out at such an unimportant station as Bingham Cross Roads caused a surprise which, although rea- sonably under control, was still too strong for concealment. From the windows of the car at [1] J AMOS JUDD least a do^n pairs of eyes were watching them. The two men and the little boy who composed this group were of dark complexion, with clean-cut, regular features. The oldest, a man of sixty years or more, had a militaiy bearing, and was. If one could judge from ap- pearances, a person of authority in his own country, wherever that might be. Although the younger man seemed to resemble him, it was in such a general way that he might be either his son or no relation whatever. But the little boy had excited a yet greater interest than his companions. Although but six or seven years old, he comported himself with as much dignity and reserve as the genUeman with the sUver hair. This gave the impression, and without apparent intention on his part, that he also was an important personage. His dark eyes were strikingly beautifol and, like those of his seniors, were distinctiy foreign in design. [2] AMOS JUDD When the train moved away the three trav- ellers approached the man with one suspender, who filled the position of station agent, bag- gage-master, switchman, telegraph operator and freight clerk, and inquired if there was a conveyance to the village of Daleford. He pointed to a wagon at the farther end of the platform; that was the Daleford stage. In an- swer to further questions they learned that the next train back again, toward New York, left at six thirty; that Daleford was seven miles away; that they could spend an hour in that village and catch the train without hurrying. The only baggage on the pktform consisted of two peculiar-looking trunks, or rather boxes, which the multifarious official knew to br theirs, as no similar articles had ever been manufactured in America. They were covered with designs laid on in metal, all ekborately engraved, and it was not suspected along the route that these profuse and tarnished or- in I AMOS JUDD 7 -^PPeO behind .he «^, t,„ ,^. "^ '"'••'«'«•«<"'»«, a, outh^thU^e "" and . I.„g neck, ««,„ g..^ hi. p...enge„ 7' ««"«>» opportunities to explain them. «>ve,, which the, neglected. Adde fion. . few dmple quesuon, .bout DJefori «d Mr J«i.hJudd, to who« house they we« going,' theconve«.tionw„in.u„g„.g,„,„^^^^^ ■^ »» '"•wledge. The 6r^ two n^e, of their which they climbed to higher g™„nd. The boy •eemed interested in the size of the elm,, the '■>«" of the tob^co fields, the Wild grapes. «nd the ™rious things that «,y boy might nohce who h«l never seen their like befo« ■n,e day w«, w«™, and the r«.d dusty, and -hen they ente«dDaIeforf the boy, with the oM gentleman's a„„ .bouj ^.^^ j_^ ^^_^ "leep for seve»I miles. Coming into the vU- [*] AMOS JUDD lage .t one end, they dmve down the main street, beneath double rows of elms that met .bore their heads in loft^. arches, the wide common on their right The stnuigers ex- pressed their admiration at the c.e and beauty of these trees. Moreover the cool shade was restful and refreshing. No signs of human life were visible either in the street or about the white houses that faced the common, and this with the unbroken silence gave an impression that the inhabil^ts, if thej existed, were either absent or asleep. The driver stopped for a moment at the postK,ffice which occupied a comer in the only store, and gave the mail-bag to the post-mis- tress, a pale young woman with eye-glasses and a wealth of artificial hair; then, after rum- bling through the village for half _ .„ found themselves again in the countiy, The last house on the right, with sive portico of Doric mile, they its [*] mas- columns, seemingly of AMOS JUDD whit. „.*„, h^ a,, .pp^^ ^^ ^ ^_^ ™" ««"P'e- But the« .ppe.^^ „„ ^ «puve,thebui]dtogbei„g.p^,.^^^_^^ •nd the nateridl of wtive pine. A. they .ppwiched thi, mend*^™.. exte- Hor the little boy ..id «„,ethi„g u, the ^or- y Unguag. to hi, con,p.,rio..., whe-eupon *ey told ^he drive, t. .top .t th, door, „ Mr. Judd was inside. ''n»t .i„-t Mr. Judd-, house, ■ he .„,we«d. H» i. ncriy . ^, ^^, ^^ ^^^ ^^ hiU, .ml he g.ve the ho«e. . gentle blow to emph«i« the in&mwtioa But the boy „ P"ted hi, .utement, wh.tever it w«, .„d the younger nu» «ud. with «»e deci,ion: "Mr. Judd i, tadde. Stop here." As the driver drew up before the hou,e he renurked, with . «„,astie .mile: "If Mr. Judd live, here, he". n,„ved in ance momin'." But the ren,.rk n«„le no ,i,ible i„pre,d„n. [6] AMOS JUDD They all got out, and while the two men ap- proached the front door by an old-fashioned brick walk, the boy strolled leisurely through the glassy yard beside the house. The driver was speculating within himself as to what kind of a pig-headed noUon made them per- sist in stopping at Deacon Barlow's, when, to his surprise, Mr. Judd emerged from a door- way at the side and advanced with long strides toward the diminutive figure in his path. Mr. Judd was a man about sixty yeare of age, tall, thin and high-shouldered. His long, bony face bore no suggestions of beauty, but there was honesty in every line. The black clothes which hung loosely upon his figure made him seem even taUer and thinner than he really was. The boy looked him pleasantly in the face and, when he had approached suffi- ciently near, said, in a clear, childish voice, slowly and with laborious precision: "Josiah Judd, the General SubahdAr Divo- [7] AMOS JUDD Mr. Judd .^p^ ^^^ ^^ opened, but „, «„^ ^, ^^ ^ «"yoftheho,t.ndh«te«,thebe.H„g.fthe r""' "' "*"' "' '««"8«e "d he^dify honors. "^ eve,7 comer, .„ fe,t«,„ed ^^ ^^ ^ wmdow,, even ...„g the wall, .„d up the »t"«, their perfume mingling with the murie And the music, dre«ny yet voluminous, nvay,' ".ther „d thither.«. of ^d^, ^^ neck, and shimmering jewels, floating ^^^^ fi-Uy .bout in the .rms of .nxious youths. These youths, ^though unsperfcbly hsppy, wear upon their ftees,., is n,^„p,„.„^^ •"".ions, «, expresdon of cor»ding e«e A. a wait, came to an end, a t.,,, Ug^t. "^ 8^' With Crimson ^s ,„ h„ ^^ [as] H i AMOS JU DD dropped into a seat She fanned herself rapidly as if to drive away a roost becoming color that h«l taken possession of her cheeks. Her breath came quickly, the string of pearis upon her neck rising and falling as if sharing in the general joy. With her long throat, her well- poised head, and a certain dignity of uncon- scious pride she might be described as old- fashioned from her resemblance to a favorite type in the portraits of a century ago. Perhaps her prettiest feature was the low, wide fore- head about which the hair seemed to advance and recede in exceptionally gracefiil lines. Her charm to those who know her but superficially was in her voice and manner, in the frankness of her eyes, and, above all perhaps, in that all- conquering charm, a total absence of self-con- sciousness. But whatever the reason, no giri in the room received more attention. Her partner, a sculptor with a bald head and a reputation, took the chair beside her. [ 34 ] AMOS J U D I) A« her eye. wandered carelessly about the "om she inquired, in an indifferent tone- "Who is that swarthjr youth talking with Julia Bancroft?" "I don't know. He looks like a foreigner." Then he added, with more interest, "But isn't he a beauty!" "Yes, his features are good." «He is an Oriental of some sort, and does n't quite harmonize with a claw-hammer coat. He should wear an emerald-gi^en nightcap with a ruby in the centre, about the sixe of a hen's m, a yellow dressing-gown and white satin trousers, all copiously sprinkled with dUmonds " She smiled. "Yes, and he might be interest- ing if he were not quite so handsome; but here he comes!" The youth in question, as he came down the room and passed them, seemed to be having a jolly time with his companion and he failed to notice the two people who were discussing [35] » ! AMOS JUDD him. It WM a boyish face notwith«Unding the regular features and square jaw, and at the present moment it wore a smile that betnyed the most intense amusement When he was well out of hearing, the sculptor exclaimed: "He is the most artistic thing I ever saw! The lines of his eyes and nose are superb! And what a chin! I should like to own him!" "You rt.,knewhta to college. At d«,ce. and parties we were «ene»l,y sure to find hta tucked away „„ "•e stal™ or out on a poreh with the pret- ,f ' *^' °^ ""^ ■»"• "" "« 'ooked so n.ueh hke „ OH«,tal p^ee we used to caU hin. the Bellehugger of Spoonmore." ■ "Disgusttog!" "But that is a tHfflng and u„h„p.rt.„t de- t«d of his cha«cter. Miss Cibot, and convev, .cold ,„.pre..ion of M. Judd's expertences. Don Giovanni w„ a pu,itanical prig in «,„. I-™- n.en at «,Uege he h«l the bad taste to murder a classnute." Mi.. Cabot looked up in honw. "But then he had hi, virtues. He could -•nnk more with«.t Aowing it than any fel- [S8] AMOS JUDD low in college, and he was the richest man in his class." "Oh, come now, Horace," said the sculptor, "you are evidently a good friend of his, but your desire to do him a good turn may be carrying you beyond the limits of-how shaU I say it?" "You mean that I am lying." "Well, that is the rough idea." Horace smiled. «No, I am not lying. It is aU true," and he passed wearily on. It was not many minutes before Molly Cabot was again moving over the floor, this time with the son of the house. Stephen Van Koover was one of those unfortunates whose mental outfit qualified him for something better than the career of clothes and conversation to which he was doomed by the family wealth. "This recalls old times. Isn't it three or four years since we have danced together?" he asked. "Or is it three or four hundred?" [39] AMOS JUDD "Thank you! I am glad you realize what you have missed." "You do dance like an angel. Miss Molly, and it's a sin to squander such talent on me. I wish you would try it with Judd; my sistem say his dancing is a revelaUon." "Judd, the murderer?" "Who told you that?" "Horace Bennett" "1 might have guessed it. Truth and Honice were never chums. Judd bea« the same rela- tion to Horace as sunshine to a damp cellar." As the music ceased they strolled to a little divan at the end of the room. "He did kill a man, a classmate, but he had the sympathies of his entire dass. It was partly an accident, anyway." "I am glad for his sake, as there seems to be a prejudice against murder." "This was a little of both. We were having a supper, about twenty of us, just before class- [40 J \ AMOS JUDD day. After the supper, when we were all a trifle hilarious, Slade came up behind Judd and poured some wine down his neck. Judd faced about; then Slade made a mock apol- ogy, and added an insulting speech. He was a master in that sort of thing, and while doing it he emptied his wineglass into Judd's face. Now Judd is ove. weighted with a peculiar kind of Oriental pride, and also with an un- fortunate temper; not a bad temper, but a sudden, unreliable, cyclonic aflair, that carries the owner with it, generally faster than is necessary, and sometimes a great deal farther. Now Slade knew all this, and as he was an all-around athlete and the heavier man, there was no doubt in our minds that he meant Judd should strike out, and then he would have some fun with him. "Well, Judd grew as black as a thunder- cloud, but he kept his temper. His hand shook as he wiped his face with his handkerchief [41 ] AMOS JUDD T """•"^ '""■«' "" ^ upon hta. IKe. ■t w„ th.t .he .«.„ ^ ^. ^^ to «i.ande„ta„d J„dd-. dec«t bd,.vi<„, J '"""•^P* "-«•««•» for ^ewhoculd «d b^ged hU he«. .g.to,e the w.n ^ . fo- "d fl^ .fc.. „b.^ ^^^ ^^^^ "■"^ "<*='««««-»..«. open ^. »« .««d. J„dd, h.If Bfti^ ton -^^i^.»judgehin.b,.„^a.^ He » buut ,f fo„i^ ^^^ ^ ^ ^ved^^ethh^.^,,^^ n» nature to foigive." n.ir voiee, were drowned in the music that "^ «»«» toe .«.„. ^e dauce over, ^ -tered out into the large haU, where Ren.! r 43 ] M' / i I , AMOS JUDD ish and Italian tapestries formed an opulent harmony with Van Koover portraits. In the air of this apartment one breathed the ancestral repose that speaks of princely origin. It was not intended, however, that this atmosphere should recaU the founder of the house who, but four generations ago, was peddling knick- knacks along the Boweiy. As Miss Cjabot was uncomfortably warm and suggested a cooler air he led her to the farther end of the long hall, beyond the stairs, and halted at the entrance of a conservatory. "Delicious!" and she inhaled a long breath of the fresh, moist air. "Wait for me just a moment, and I will bring you the glass of water," and he vanished. An inviting obscurity pervaded this conser- vatory, which, like the rest of the Van Koover mansion, was spacious and impressive. At the farther end, the gloom was picturesquely broken by rays of moonlight slanting through [44] AMOS JUDD **" '^y »f»dow». The only living „ «emed to be „„. * «»"lMnt8 ^ve". whose voice, .e« f.,„.,^ *e^h„h„,of.he.„«ef„„„..„..„^,^ -P-niment t, .he «,>u«on, tar' Zt' '""""'''■ ^'""""^ - '^-^e .; "e l»sta, she stood for . •Jo™ into it, di!^/ """"'"' '"''"8 "•lody, „d . welcome re,tf„I„ess stole .entlf "Pon her senses « sh, i„h I j ^ *~"* "^ ">« «~Pio». the peace «,d ™w.^ o' . .-»mer night She stt. .he h«i the amc«i,y ,„ rt«,d near the window with . haml.gU» «rf .judy her °™ ««««•". Only the o™.! &ee wa. there. ""^ " '"^' "»■««"« t«, diort, the chto [58] AMOS JUDD too long, «ul .U the other defect, were pres. ent; but even in the moonhght they seemed h«dJy .uffident to frighten « rtn,ng young nun. \ S9] m V ( ■ 111 A FIRST interview with the Hon. J. W. -^1. Cabot, senior member of the firm of Cabot, Hollingsworth & Per^, genendly re- -ulted in a belief that this distinguished law- yer was a severe, unsympathetic man whose dignity, under ordinary pressure, was not likely to abate. An abundant crop of short gray hair covered a squlwe, weU-shaped head; a head that seemed hard and strong. His forehead, his jaw, and his shoulders were also square, and they also seemed hard and strong. His manner was cold, his voice firm and even, and he was never ruflled. The cool gray eyes rested calmly upon you as if screening, out of consideration for your own fallacious knowledge, the profundity of wisdom that re- posed behind them. His memory seemed in- fallible. The extent and accuracy of his legal knowledge was a perpetual surprise, even to [60] AMOS JUDD hi. P-tner.. For Amplifying complex enUn- glcmenu hi. dearies, «„d «pidity amounted to . geniu.. Hie fee. were colossal. In short, he seemed just the man who would never write such a note as thi»: iOWHEAD: I Shall bring an old friend to dinner to- night J^'t give US rubber oUves or shad of last ye«.'. vintage. He is not . bricA-bnu. shop. JmsBv. This document was sent to his daughter who since her mother's death, three years' •go, had managed the household. When « child of five she overheard a friend address him frequenUy as Jim, whereupon she ad- justed a final syllable to render it le.s formal, *nd ever after continued to use it It was an afternoon in March that this note arrived, nearly four months after the ball at [61] I' / I i i ' AMOS JUDD the Van Koover.', «id when, m hour or two »«ter, her fiither preiented hi. old fHend, Mr S-muel FetUpUce, .he w« rtruck by hi. enor- mou. fi«„c «,d by the ext»orih«,y color of hi. face. Thl. color, . bhuing, re.ple„dent red, not only occupied hi. no.e wd cheek., but extended, in quieter tone., over hi. forehe«i •nd neck, even to the biUd .pot upon the top of hi. head. It had eveiy .ppc««ce of being thMt expendvfe decomtion that am only be procured by « prolonged and con«rfentiou. in- dulgence in the choicert Buigundie.. HiB large, round, light-blue eye. were aU the bluer fiom their crim«m «,tting. A more honert P^ she had never .een. The«., with hi. rilver hair and benevolent forehead, gave the impre.- •ion of a pleawntly intempemte bi.hop. Molly Cabot well knew that her &ther, and tBptd^ly her mother, could never have achieved a wann *nd lasting fHend.hip for one whose habit, were honestly repre.ented by .uch compromis- ing colors. [ 62 ] » AMOS JUDD WU, oM.f„hto«d c.,« .;. uj Hh, „ I „, ,.„ ,„, ^n't .. W l.A„,^, ,„^iH..ring the Bf. he »« led, but il „.,„u b,. , ,.^,t,„ ,h,„g ,^, • weU-meanin,, y . 1 lo reseu.ble uy Uwyer " She Uughed= "But p.p. i. ™, „ t^ „ nc looks, you know." "Ye., he i.; I have known him longer than you have. But there .eem to be hono« i„ dis- honor. During these yenr. that I have been trotting about the globe he ha. been climbing higher and higher, until now hi. legs are dan- ghng from the topmost round. Why, J under- •tand that none but the solidest billionaires and the fattest monopolies presume to retain him." "I am afraid someone took you for « hay- [63 J ( ; ) fl fl/l AMOS JUDD seed, Sarii, and has been stuffing you." "No, they have not!" exclaimed the daugh- ter. «Eve,ybody says he is the best lawyer in New York. He has refused to be a judge sev- eral Umesl" "Oh, come, Molly! Don't make a fool of your old &ther.'" "Go ahead. Miss Molly," cried Mr. Fetti- pl«^. "Don't mhid him! I know you are right But I suppose he pays the customary penalty for his greatness; slaves day and night, both summer and winter, eh?" "Yes, he does, and if you have any influ- ence with him, Mr. Fettiplace, I wish you would bring it to bear." "I will. He shall do just as you decide." "Now, Molly," said Mr. Cabot, «be just. Have I not promised to take a three months' vacation this summer?" "Where do you spend the summer?" asked Mr. Fettiplace. [64J AMOS JUDD «I don't know yet. We gave up our place •t the shore two year, ago. The salt air does not agree with me any too well; and neither MoUy nor I care for it particularly." There was a pause, and the guest felt that the wife's death might have saddened the pleasant memories in the house by the sea. As if struck with an idea, he laid down his fork and exclaimed; "Why not come to Daleford? There is a house aU furnished and ready for you! My daughter and her husUnd are going abroad, and you could have it untU November if you wished." "Where is that, Sam?" "WeU," said Mr. Fettiplace, closing his eyes in a profound calculation, «I am weak at fig- nres, but on the map it is north of Hartforf and about a quarter of an inch below the Massachusetts border." Mr. Cabot laughed. «I remember you were [65] f^' ,1, fi : ■ t f V AMOS JUDD alway. weak at figures. What ia it, a fashion- able resort?" "Not at all. If that is what you are after, don't think of it" "But it is not what we are after," said MoUy. «We want a quiet place to rest and read in." "With just enough walking and driving," put in the father, «to induce us to eat and sleep a httl^ more than is necessary." "Then Daleford is your place," and the huge guest, with his head to one side, rolled his light-blue eyes toward Molly. "Do tell us about it," she demanded. "Well, in the first place Daleford itself is a forgotten little village, where nothing was ever known to happen. Of course births, mar- riages, and deaths have occurred there, but even those thmgs have always been more un- eventful than anywhere else. Nothuig can teke place without the whole village knowing [66] AMOS JUDD it, and knowing it at once: yet the inhabitants are always asleep. No one is ever in sight. If you should lock yourself in your own room, pull down the curtains and sneeze, say your prayers or change a garment at an unaccus- tomed hour, all Daleford would be comment- ing on it before you could unlock the door and get downstairs again." "That sounds inviting," said Mr. Cabot "There is nothing like privacy." "I only tell you this so there shall be no de- ception. But all that does not really concern you, as our house is a mile from the village." Then he went on to describe its real advan- tages: the pure air, the hills, the beautifol scenery, the restful country life, and when he kad finished his hearers were much interested and thought seriously of going to see it "I notice, Sam, that you make no mention of the malaria, rheumatism, or organized bands of mosquitoes, drunk with your own blood [67 J Hi m \i) AMOS JUDD who haul you from your bed at dead of night Or do you take it for granted we should be disappointed without those things?" "No, sir. I take it for gmnted that eveiy New Yorker brings those things with him," and again a large china-blue eye was obscured by a laborious wink as its mate beamed trium- phantly upon the daughter. There were further questions regarding the house, the m^s of getting there, and finally Molly asked if there were any neighbors. "Only one. The others are half a mile away." "And who is that one.?" she asked. "That one is Judd, and he is an ideal neighbor." "Is he a farmer?" "Yes, in a way. He raises horses and pups and costly cattle." Then, turning to Mr. Cabot. "It is the young man I brought into your office this morning, Jim." [68] AMOS JUDD "Well, he is too beautiful for the countiy! If I could spend a summer near a face like that I shouldn't care what the sceneiy was." "Is his name Amos Judd?" asked Molly. "Why, yes. Do you know him?" "I think I met him early this winter. His reputation is not the best in the world, is it?" Mr. Fettiplace seemed embarrassed. He took a sip of wine before answering. "Perhaps not. There have been stories about him, but," and he continued with more than his habitual earnestness, «I have a higher opinion of him and would trust him farther than any young man I know!" She felt, nevertheless, that Mr. Judd's repu- tation might not be a proper subject for a young lady to discuss, and she remained si- lent. But her father was not a young lady, and he had heard nothing of the improprieties of the young man's career. "What is his particu- lar line of sin?" he inquired. [69 J Id, A AMOS JUDD "He has none. At present he is all right; but at college, and that was five years ago, I am afraid he took a livelier interest in petti- coats than in the advertised course of study." "Of course he did/' said Mr. Cabot. «That beauty was given him for the delectation of other mortals. To conceal it behind a book would be opposing the will of his Creator." "Poor Amos/' said Mr. Fettiplace with a smile, as he slowly shook his head. "His beauty is his curse. He regards it as a blight IS ashamed of it, and would give a good deai to look like other people. Eveiybody wonde« who he is and where he came f,t,m. As for the women, they simply cannot keep their eyes away from him." "If I were a woman," said Mr. Cabot, in a slow, judicial mamier, -I should throw my arms about his neck and insist upon remaining there." * Mr. Fettiplace chuckled, not only at the [70] AMOS JUDD ■olcmnity of his friend s face during the de- livery of the speech, but at the contemptuous silence with which this and simUar utterances were received by the daughter. There had always been a gentler and more lovable side to James Cabot, and he was glad to see that success and honors had not destroyed the mental friskiness and love of nonsense that had been an irresistible charm in former years. He was also glad to witness the affection and perfect understanding between father and daughter. It was evident that from long ex- perience she was always able to sift the wheat from the chaff, and was never deceived or unnecessarily shocked by anything he might choose to say. "Well, he will be here soon," said Mr. Fet- tiplace, «but as you are only a man, you may have to content yourself with sitting in his lap." "Is Mr. Judd coming here this evening?" [71 J Ui AMOS JUDD '»q"l«J M.%. to . ume tl-t bet«,ed „ •lwn only „f^ ^ common knowledge of DJefori, that the boy w« bought to thia counto- when he w„ •bout dx ye«, old, «,d th.t . few b«diul. of di«nond, «,d nibie, c«ne with him. The ™"" of thi, ,„.»« h„ b^„ ex.gge„ted, probably, but with ,11 .Ilow«,c« made it must have «no„nted to mo« than a million dollare." "Why!" exclaimed Molly. "Ifs q„jte 1^, a faiiy tale! " [72] AMOS JUDD "Yes, and the mjntery ia stUl agoing. Jo- d*h Judd, in whose hands he was placed, hap- pened to be the only person who knew the boy's histoiy, and he died without telling it Who the child was or why he was sent here no one knows and no one seems likely to dis- cover. Josiah died about twelve years ago, and ever since that time stray clusters of emeralds, pearls, and diamonds have been turning up in unexpected places about the house. Some are hidden away in secretary drawers, others folded in bits of paper behind books. They have tumbled from the pockets of Josiah's old clothes, and a few years ago his widow dis- covered in one of his ancient slippers an enve- lope containing something that felt like seeds. On the outside was written 'Amos's things.' She tore it open and found a dozen or more magnificent rubies, rubies such as one never sees in this countiy. They were sold for over two hundred thousand dollars." [73] .«^" AMOS JUDD "G«d„„.|" excWmed Molly, ...h,, ««d him to !«,. u.e„ ta ^^ he cnmyf" ••On «.. e..^, h. «. too „«. No. '» g»d„.lly. „d ^^^^ ^^^ •rfety to different pl«!e, «, „„. „ ^ i""™". » mat no one thief - d .to., uj.„ ^. ^^^ ^ ^ "e Averted the p„K«d. to «„id «e«Htl.. N„ •^l.,ewele«ketlti.„.„u^„ that cracks and corner. f«^j . comers to-dajr are hiding their precious stones." ••How „y,tori„„ „j ^,^^^,.. ^^ Mo>'^"It«en„to..o.«.«,,„ New England." ••That i. j„.t the t,o„b,e with it," ..id her &*l.er. He Ie«,ed back to hi. ehai, and eon- ta.«eu,witha»,ae,..,.„.pectourgue.tha, been readtog hi, -Monto CH^- ,.to,y, ^^.^ ■»«y«c.«nt for. pardonable e«gge„tion to [74 J AMOS JUDD a historian who means to be honest. Who told you all this, Sam? The Judds* family cat?" Mr. Fettiplace drew his hand slowly across his forehead and closed his blue eyes, as if heriUting for a reply. "There is so much that is hard to believe connected with Amos that one ought to prepare his audience before talking about him. I will tell you one little thing that happened to myself, an occurrence not de- pendent upon other people's credulity. One day hut autumn, late in the afternoon, I was walking along an untravelled road through the woods, when I met two little children who were pkying horse. The front one, the horse, wore a garment that looked like a white silk overcoat without sleeves. Otherwise the chil- dren were roughly clad, with battered straw hats and bare feet. The overcoat had a curious. Oriental cut, and there was a good deal of style to it; so much, in fact, and of such a foreign flavor, that I stopped to get a better look at [75] Mioocory nsouition tbt chart (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ■ 4J Itt w III u 128 112 |4J 125 Ml 1.4 2^ 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^1 m jS d /APPLIED IM^OE Inc 1653 Edit Main Straat FtochMttr, Nm Yorti 14609 USA (716) 462 - OMO - Phon. (716) 280 -SSn- Fm I" I \t AMOS JUDD it. The wenrer, a boy of eight or ten, I recog- nized as the son of an unprosperous farmer who lived in a dilapidated old house not far away. When I asked him where he got his jacket he said he wore it at the children's tableaux: that he was the prince who awoke the sleeping beauty in the town hall last night. Then I remembered there had been a performance to raise money for the library. "While talking with him I noticed there were four rows of little pearl-shaped buttonj around the neck and down the front. They formed part of an elaborate design, beautifully embroidered in gold and silver thread, old and somewhat temished, but in excellent pres- ervation. I asked him what those ornaments were, and he answered they were beads. *But who owns the jacket.?' I asked: 'Does it belong to you?' No, it belonged to Mrs. Judd, who had lent it for the performance. *Then why don't you return it to Mrs. Judd?' [76] AMOS JUDD Oh, they were going to return it to-morrow morning. I offered to take it, as I was going that way, and the jacket was handed over. "The more I examined the article, the more interested I became, and finally I sat down on a rock and made a study of it. I found the garment was of white silk and completely covered with a most elaborate stitching of gold and silver thread. I am no expert in precious stones, but I knew those beads were either pearls or tremendously clever imitations, and when I remembered there was a good old-fashioned mystery con- nected with Amos's arrival in these parts, I began to feel that the beads stood a fair chance of being more than they pretended. I counted a hundred and twenty of them. "When I took the garment to Mrs. Judd and told her what I thought, she did n't seem at all surprised; simply told me it had been lying in a bureau-drawer ever since Amos [77] i f> *M I I • 1 AMOS JUDD came, about twenty years ago. She is over eighty and her memory has gone rapidly the last few years, but she closed her eyes, stroked her hair, and said she remembered now that her husband had told her this jacket was worth a good many dollars. And so they always kept it locked away in an upstairs drawer, but she had forgotten all about that when she offered it to the Faxons for their performance. Down the front of the jacket were large splashes of a dark reddish-brown color which she said had always been there, and she remembered thinking, as she first laid the coat away, that Amos had been in some mischief with currant jelly. Amos was away just then, but when he returned we took all the beads off, and a few days later I showed a dozen of them to a New York jeweller who said they were not only real pearls, but for size and quality he had seldom seen their equal." [78] AMOS JUDD "They must have been tremendously valu- able," said Molly. "They averaged twelve hundred dollars apiece." "Gracious!" she exclaimed. "And there were a hundred and twenty of them?" "Yes; they brought a little more than a hundred and forty thousand dollars." "It all harmonizes with Judd's appear- ance," said Mr. Cabot; "I should not expect him to subsist on every-day American divi- dends. But it's a good jacket, even for fairy land." "Yes, it certainly is, and yet there was the usual touch of economy in it," Mr. Fettiplace continued. "When we came to remove the pearls, we found a little gold loop or ring in the setting behind each one of them. Those loops passed through a sort of circular button- hole in the garment, and a gold wire, running along beneath the silk, held the jewels in [79] I ij AMOS JUDD place, so that by drawing out the wire they were all detached." "Well, where was the economy in that?" "By being adjusted and removed so easily they probably served, when occasion required, as necklace, belt, bracelets, earrings, diadems, or the Lord knows what." "Of course," assented Mr. Calwt. «A frugal device thAt might be of service to other farm- ers. And you began, Sam, by describing Dale- ford as an uneventful place. It seems to me that Bagdad is nothing to it." Mr. Fettiplace sipped his coffee without re- plying. After a short silence, however, with his eyes upon the coffee which he stirred in an absent-minded way, he continued: "There are one or two other things con- nected with Judd which are much more diffi- cult to explain. Daleford is full of mysterious teles of supernatural happenings in which he is the hero of prophecies and extiaordinaiy [80] AMOS JUDD fulfilments; always incredible, but told in hon- est faith by practical, hard-headed people. Any native will give them to you by the yard, but the hero, under no conditions, ever alludes tc» them himself." "Which probably proves," said Mr. Cabot, "that the hero is the only one to be relied on. It is such fun to believe in the incredible! That is the charm of miracles, that they are impossible." The rosy guest turned to the daughter with a smile, saying: "And there is nothing like a hard-headed old lawyer to drag you back to earth." "What were these tales, Mr. Fettiplace.> What did they refer to.?" she asked. But Mr. Fettiplace evidently felt that he had said enough, possibly because a portion of his audience was not of encouraging ma- terial, for he only answered in a general way that the stories related to impossible [81 ] > M II AMOS JUDD «perie„e«, .„d we« p„bably „„,y vilW gOMip. ^ After dinner they «.t .«„nd the fi,e In the next ,„,„, the ,w„ „.„ with their cig.„ .„<, Moll, .t work over, bit of upe,t^„p„,,„t. «« the M.id of Orleans on. fat, white ho«e. 11^" ho«e,.eeoMi„g to her father, „„.t have belonged to. Liverpool ci„u», and was loaned to Jo«n. for t.pest,y only. When Mr. J„dd •ppe«ed Molly felt » .„g„,„,^ .„.^^^ ^_^ this hero of the white j«,ke., but it wa, against both eon«..ienee snd judgment and in spite of a Piou, resolve to consider him simply „ . bberhne with . mu«Je«,us temper. TT.at her father »d Mr. Fettipl.ce h.d no such .bhor- rence was evident from their corfial g^eting The conversation bec«ne gene^l, although theburde„ofitwasbon,ebyMr.Fcttip,.ce, "ho seemed ,„ possess upon eve,y subject either some interesting f„ts or . novel thco„ Once, when he was telling them something [ 82 ] AMOS JUDD to amusing that it seemed safe to count upon « strict attention from all his hearers, she looked over at Mr. Judd and found his eyes fixed earnestly upon her face. It was a look «> serious, of such infinite melancholy that, in surprise, her own glance involuntarily lin' gcred for a second. He at once turned his eyes in another direction, and she felt angryr with herself for having given him even so slight a testimonial of her interest. Although a trivial episode, it served to increase the existing hos- tility and to strengthen an heroic resolve. This resolve was to impress upon him, kindly but clearly, the impossibility of a serious respect on her part for a person of such unenviable repute. Later, when the two older men went up into the library to settle some dispute concerning a date, he came over and seated himself in a chair nearer her own, but also facing the fire. "Your ears must have tingled this evening, Mr. Judd." [ 83 ] ii .1 I I I) ', AMOS JUDD «Ah, h« Mr. Fettlpl«e been gi»w „. away?" "On the contraiy; he is . stanch friend of yours." "Indeed he fa, but i, „,gM ^„,„ ^ ^^ o^ingly .kilful friend t. th,„w . fi>v.„ble light on such a subject" "How delightfully „«le,t.' I .»,„„ y„„ fc, ««ve you an ejcellent character." "Did you think it a wilfi., deception, ., that he was simply mistaken?" She turned and «.w upon his feee .„ .mused smile, half triumphant yet g«rf.h„. mo«d. She lowered her eye. to the bm„.e ornament on the table that was slowly revolv- '"« '*'**™ *" finger "Am I so incapable of believing good of others?" "Certmnly not! But when I «., y.„ Ust 1 suffered from «. unpleasant belief that neither the Devil nor myself were objects of your .do»tio„. So I took the liberty of putting one [84] AMOS JUDD or two things together, and decided that the faithful Bennett might have honored mt by a mention." "HTiy suspect Mr. Bennett of such a thing?" "'Veil, partly because he is a vindictive and unscrupulous liar, and partly because he is the only enemy I saw there." This wa« said gently, in his usual low voice, with perfect calmness, and it was said amiably, as if sympathizing with an unfortu- nate friend. "You seem able to meet him on his own ground." "Oh, no! There is aU the difference in the world." She looked toward him interrogatively, but with an expression that plainly indicated a dif- ference of opinion. He continued in the same tone, with no sign of animosity: "The differ- ence is this, that he tells others what he never tells me. I tell others his mind is filthy and his 185] - . ■ ,4\ AMOS JUDD •pirit i. mean; that he is without honor wd that he is a Jiar, but I also tell himr "You have told him that?" "Often; sometimes to himself alone, some- times in the presence of others." She could not restmin a smile. "It must be a pleasant ithing io tell a man!" "A man? Oh, that would be a different mat- ter! " There was a barUric simplicity in all this that she could not help respecting, particularly as she felt he was telling the truth: and she sympathia^ with him heartily i„ this opinion of Horace Bennett While openly unforgiving and vindictive, he appeared to regard his enemy with the half-serious contempt of a gentle but experienced philosopher. But she remembered her resolution. "Mr. Fettiplace has been telling us about that white jacket. What an interesting stoiy!" [86] AMOS JUDI) "Yes, everything he tell« i. interesting. He h« a rare faculty in that direction." "But in this case he had an unusual ,ul,jc.ot It Is like a fairy story. I suppose you wore it some tose." ^ After a slight hesitation he answered, "Those are blood-stains." Turning toward him for further information she could not help thinking how nrnch morJ [87 J i, i ,■■ 4 t 1 T J HI 1 1 i\ I; AMOS JUDD he was in harmony with a tale of pearls and mystery and human blood than with jam or currant jelly. As he made no answer but sat gazing absently at the fire, che expressed a hope that his youthful nose had not collided with the stairs or with the fist of some larger boy. > "No, not that exactly," he repUed, with his eyes still upon the fire. "It is a long stoiy and would not interest you." Then looking up, he continued, with more animation, "I am glad there is a possibility of your coming to Dale- ford. It is an ideal place to be quiet in." "So Mr. Fettiplace tells us, but you are mistaken about the history of the jacket. It mould interest me, and I should Uke extremely to hear it; unless of course you prefer not to tell it" "If you wish to hear it that is reason enough for the telling, but— isn't it rather cruel to force a man to talk only about himself?" [88] AMOS JUDD "No; not in this case. It gives an opportu- nity to prove, by the perfection of your boy- hood, that you are less vile than you believe Horace Bennett to have painted you." "That would be impossible. No human rec- ord could wipe out an effect once laid in by such a hand. Besides, there is nothing in the jacket to repair a damaged reputation." "The fact of telling the story will count in your favor." "In that case I will make an effort." He rested an elbow on the arm of his chair, slowly stroking the back of his head as if uncertain where to begin. "It is really a foolish thing to do," he said at last, "but if you are relentless I suppose there is no escape. In the first place, to begin at the very beginning, there was a little court with arches all around it, with grass in the centre and a fountain at each comer. On the marble steps, at one end, we were all sitting, a dozen or more children, [89] iil I h' { " /; i I. AMOS JUDD watching a man with a bear and two man- keys. These monkeys had sham fights. One was dressed like an English soldier with a red jacket, and he always got the worst of it. It was great fun and we all laughed." "Where was this?" "In In^ta. At the veiy beginning .f the «how, when the Englid, „„„ie^ f„ ^ ^ ment w« „„ top, a serv„t rushed int. the court and dragged me away. It was . barbar- •"s deed,and I was ugly; „ disagreeable p^b- ably as Horace Bennett could have wished So I only lose ground, y„„ see, by telling this story." ■ "Never mind. Unless you tell it I shall be- lieve the woret" "Well, looking b«=k as I was digged along, the Ust thing I saw was the red monkey being chased and beaten by the white one, and they scrambled right up the bear's back. I„ the chamber where we went that white jacket w« [90] AMOS JUDD brought out and I made another row, for I knew it meant a long and tiresome perform- ance in which I had to keep still and behave myself." "A performance on a stage?" "No; in a large room, with lots of people standing about. As our procession started for the big hall, which was several rooms away on another side of the house, I noticed that my uncle and one or two others kept closer to me than usual. There was a tremendous haste and confusion, and everybody seemed excited." In telling his story Mr. Judd spoke in a low voice, pronouncing his words clearly and with a certain precision. His only gesture consisted in occasionally drawing a hand slowly up the back of his head, as if finding solace in rub- bing the short thick hair in the wrong direc- tion. Although his voice and manner suggested an indolent repose, she noticed that the brown hands, with their long fingers, were hard and [91 J 1$ ^4 >, M 4 'J J */ w I I r AMOS JUDD muscular, and were the hands of a nervous temperament. "When we entered the large hall there were lots of people, mostly soldiers, and in uniforms I had not seen before. The principal person seemed to be a short, thick-set man with a n^und face and big eyes, who stood in yhe centre of the room, and his wide sash and odd-looking turban with gold scales in- terested me tremendously. We all .«tood there a few minutes and there was a good deal of talk about something, when all of a sudden this man with the handsome turban seized me under the arms with both hands, lifted me up, and handed me to a big chap behind him. **Then came a free fight, a general commo- tion, with shouting and rushing about, and sword-blades in the air. A friend tried to pull me away, but the big man who held me laid h''s head open with a blow. A second later the big man himself received a cut from my uncle [92] AMOS JUDD at the base of his neck, where it joins the shoulder, that made him stagger and turn half about: then he tumbled to the floor and held me all the tighter as he fell. As we landed I came on top, but he rolled over and lay across me with his head on my stomach. He was so heavy that he held me down and the )Iood poured from his neck over my white clothes." Molly had stopped working. With her hands in her lap and her eyes fixed eagerly on his face, she uttered an exclamation of horror. He said, with a smile; "Not a cheerful story, is it.?" «It is awful! But what happened then.?" "Well, as I struggled to get from under I saw my uncle turn upon the first man, the leader, but he was too late. Someone gave him a thrust, and he staggered and came down beside us. I remember he lay so near that I reached out and touched his cheek [93] r 3> . r' li ' 1 i 'ii I ■ n n . I'f' f i S ) 10 AMOS JUDD with my finger. I spoke to him, but he nevtr answered." There was a silence, she watching him, waiting for the rest of the story, while he gazed silently into the fire. "And what happened next?" "Oh, excuse me! That is about all. Dur- ing the hubbub and slaughter my people hauled me from beneath the big chap and I was hurried away. I remember, as we ran through the chambers near the little court, I heard my friends still laughing at the monkeys." He seemed to consider the story finished. "May I fool with that fire.>" he asked. "Certainly, but what was aU the fighting about?" As the fire was encouraged into a fresher life he answered; "I never knew distinctly. That night a few others and myself went down to the river, through the gardens, were [94] k AMOS JUDD «wed t. . Utae rte^er ^ ^^^„ .^^ We »U,ed down . ,.„g ^,„^ ^^ ^^^ • b.K .te.mer brought three of u, to America. And then to Daleford." "Why on earth to Dalefordf" "Because it wa. deti™ble to land „e in ~".e amusing „et«poli,, «,d I ,„ppo.e the ehoice hy between Pa™ .nd Dalefori. Dale- ford, of course, won." "I t-n your pardon," .he hastened to «y. "My curiosity seem, to be riming awa, with me." * ' "Oh, plea« do not apologize. Here i. no «eret about Daleforf. , only an,we,«l ,„ that way a, , .„dd,^. „^,^ ^^ ^^^^ ■ng it must be to hear a. t™^5er tell pathetic rtories about him«lf. It i. , ,h„ .p„,,^ They brought me to Daleforf through Mr Judd-s brother, who was a good friend and was with us at that row." He stood before the fi,^ with the poker in [9S] II ■.3» I \ tl (i. AMOS JUDD his hand, and looked down with a smile as he continued: "I believe you have never been to Daleford, but if you were a field-mouse that could sleep all winter, and didn't care to be disturbed in summer, you would find it an ideal spot. If you were a field-mouse of aver- age social instincts you would never pull through." "And yet Mr. Fettiplace advises us to go there." "Oh, that's for a summer only, and is quite different." From Daleford they went to other sub- jects, but to her his own career proved of far greater interest, and the usual topics seemed commonplace and uneventful by comparison. Delicately and with subtle tact, she made one or two eflTorts to get further information regarding his childhood and the fabulous jewels, but her endeavors were vain. Of himself he talked no more. In a sense, how- [96] AMOS J V DD ever, she was rewarded by a somewhat sur- prising discovery i„ relation to his mental furniture. When the conversation turned in- cidentally upon litemture she found him in the enjoyment of an ignorance so vast and so comprehensive that it caused her, at first to doubt the sincerity of his own self-con-' viction. Of her favorite books he had not read one. To him the standard novelists were but names. Of their works he knew nothing. This ignorance he confessed cheerfully and without shame. ''But what do you do with yourself;^" she demanded. «Do you never read any- thuig.?" ^ "OK yes; I have not forgotten my letters For modem facts I read the papers, and for the other side of life I take poetry. But the modern novel is too severe a punishment. It IS neither poetry nor wisdom." Until the two other men came down from [97] i! 1,1 1 1 1 I J^ \ '/I Ml . ^ •• (1 AMOS JUDD the library she had no idea of the latenera of the hour. Mr. Fettiplace laid a hand on the young num's shoulder and, with a roseate smile, expUdned the situation. "This fellow is from the country, Miss Molly, and you must excuse him for expecting, when invite^ out to dinner, that he is to remain to breakfast" A moment or two later, as the three men were standing before the fire, she was aston- ished by a bit of unexpected wisdom. He was regarding with apparent interest a little etch- ing that hung near the mantel, when Mr. Cabot explained that it was a very old one he had purchased in Germany, and represented the battle of Hennersdorf. Mr. Judd thought it must be the battle of MoUwitz, and gave as reasons for his belief the position of the Prus- sians in relation to a certain hill and the re- treat of the Austrian cavalry at that stage of the fight. Mr. Cabot, obviously surprised at [98] AMOS ,1V DD the«j deUil,, replied, jokingly, thkt he wa. not in « position to contradict « soldier who WM present at the battle. This afforded great amusement to the rubi- cund guest, who exclaimed; "You might as well hack right down, Jim! Amos is simply a walking cyclopedia of militaiy facts; and not a condensed one either! He can give you more reliable details of that battle than Frederick himself, and of eveiy other battle that has ever been fought, from Rame- -es to U. S. Grant. He remembers everjrthing; why the victors were victorious and how the defeated might have won. I believe he sleeps and eats with the great conquerors. You ought to see his library. It is a gallery of slaughter, containing nothing but records of camage- and poetry. Nothing interests him like blood and verses. Just think," he continued, turning to Molly, «just think of wasting your life in the nineteenth centuiy when you feel that [99 J u H» .^•' AMOS JUDD you pouesk a maf^iificent genius for wholesale murder that can never have a show!" There was more bantering, especially be- tween the older men, a promise to visit Dale- ford, and the two guests departed. r^ [ 100] IV JN April the abou took their trip to Dale- J. ford .nd found it even more inviting than Mr. Fettipl.ce h«l promised. The H,«ei«us house among the elms, with its quaint old flower-garden, the air, the hills, the restful beauty of the country, were temptations not to be resisted, and within am . month they were comfortably adjusted ai • .at home. The house, which had formerly ' .longed to Mr. Morton Judd, stood several hundred feet from the road at the end of an avenue of wide- spreading maples. This avenue was the con- tinuation of another and a similar avenue ex- tending to the house of Josiah Judd, directly opposite, and the same disUnce from the high- way. As you stood at either end it was an un- broken arch from one residence to the other. When Mr. Morton Judd was married, some fifty years ago, his father had erected this at - [ 101 J J ti i<".i AMOS JUDD for him, but the young man soon after went to India, where as a merchant and a financier he achieved success, and where both he and his wife now lay at rest. Although covering as much ground, the house was less imposing than the more venerable mansion at the other end of the avenue. The journey beneath the maples proved such a pleasant one and was so easily made as to invite a certain familiarity of intercourse t''.at the Cabots saw no good reason to discour- age. Mrs. Judd, a strong-framed woman with a heavy chin, whose failing memory seemed her only weakness, was now about eighty years of age, and generally sat by a sunny window in the big dining-room, where she rocked and knitted from morning till night, paying little attention to what went on about her. If Amos had been her own son she could not have loved him more, and this affection was re- turned in full with an unceasing thoughtful- [ 102 ] J^J AMOS JUDD ness and care. Both Molly and her father were gratified at finding in this young man a neigh- bor whose society it seemed safe to encourage. He proved a sensible, unpretending person, fond of fun and pleasure, but with plenty of convictions; these convictions, however, while a source of amusement to Mr. Cabot, were not always accepted by the daughter. They were often startling departures from his education and environment, and showed little respect for conventionalities. He never attended church, but owned a pew in each of the five temples at Daleford, and to each of these societies he was a constant and liberal contributor. For three of them he had given parsonages that were ornaments to the village, and as the sec- tarian spirit in that locality was alive and hot these generous gifts had produced altemat- ing outbursts of thankfulness and rage, all of which apparently caused neither surprise nor annoyance to the young philosopher. When [ 103 ] i 1 '* *]' l^f Vi H Ul AMOS JUDD Molly Cabot told him, after learning this, that it would indicate a more serious Christian spirit if he paid for but a single pew and sat in it, he answered: "But that spirit is just the evti I try to ■■■■■■. cape, for your good Christian is a hot sectarian. It is the one thing in his religion he will fight and die for, and it seems to me the one thing he ought to be ashamed of. If any one sect is right and the others wrong it is all a hideous joke on the majority, and a proper respect for the Creator prevents my believing in any such favoritism." Occasionally the memory of his offensive title obtruded itself as a bar to that confi- dence which is the foundation of friendship, but as she knew him better it became more difficult to believe that he could ever have been, in its coarser sense, what that title sig- nified. As regarded herself, there was never on his part the faintest suggestion of anything [ 104 ] AMOS JUDD that could be interpreted as love-making, „r even as the mildest attempt at a flirtation. She found him under all conditions simple nd unassuming, and, she was forced to ad- mit, with no visible tokens of that personal vanity with which she had so lavishly en- dowed him. His serious business in life was the management of the Judd farm, and al- though the care and development of his ani- mals was more of a recreation than a rigid necessity he wasted little money in u suc- cessful experiments. Mr. Cabot soon discov- ered that he was far more practical and busi- ness-like than his leisurely manners seemed to indicate. The fondness for animals that seemed one of his strongest characteristics was more an innate affection than a breeders fancy. Eveiy animal on his place, from the thoroughbred horses to the last litter of pups, he regarded more as personal friends than as objects of commercial value. [ 105 J i ¥ - i AMOS JUDD When Mr. Cabot and Molly made their first visit to the farm, they noticed in the comer of a field a number of dejected horses huddled solemnly together. Most of them were well beyond middle age and bore the clearest in- dications of a future that was devoid of prom- ise. They ^azed at the visitors with hstless eyes, and as a congregation seemed burdened with most of the physical imperfections of ex- treme antiquity. "What on earth are those?" asked Mr. Cabot. "Revolutionary relics? They are too fat for invalids." "A few friends of my youth." "I should think from the number you have here that you never disposed of your old friends," said Mr. Cabot. "Only when life is a burden." "Well, I am glad to see them," said Molly, as she patted one or two of the noses that were thrust toward her. «It does y credit [ 106] AMOS JUDD I think it is horrid to sell a horse that has used himself up in your service." As the father and daughter walked home- ward along the avenue of maples, Mr. Cabot spoke of the pleasure the young man derived from his animals, and the good sense he dis- played in the management of his farm. "Yes," said Molly, "and he seems too boy- ish and full of fun for anything veiy weird or uncanny. But Mr. Fettiplace certainly be- Ueved in something of that kind, didn't he?" «Of course, or he wouldn't be Fettiplace. That sort: of thing is always interesting, and the world is full of people who can believe anything if they once put their minds on it. Who is that in our yard?" "Deacon White, I think. He has come to train up some plants for me." A moment later she took her father's arm and asked, with af- fected humihty: "Jimsey, will you do some- thing?" [ 107] If r AMOS JUDD "No, for it 's sure to be foolish." "Well, you are right, but you can do it so much better than I. Deacon White has prob- ably known Mr. Judd ever since he was a little boy, and he would be glad of an opportunity to tel' what he knows and give us all the town talk 'besides. I do wish you would just start him off." "Start him off! On what? Judd's private history? On the delicate matters he doesn't wish advertised?" "No, no! Of course not, papa! How un- pleasant you are! I only want him to throw some light on the mysterious things Mr. Fetti- place alluded to." "I shall do nothing of the kind. If you really have a thirst for that sort of knowl- edge, get a copy of Hans Andersen. He has a better style than Deacon White." A few moments later, when Molly and the Deacon were alone in the old garden, her de- [ 108 ] AMOS JUDD ■ire for ■„&„„.«„„ ^„ ^^yg^ ^ ^^ ^^_ hoped-for extent, .„d the i„fo™.ti„„ ,.., of . mo„ det«led „d „to„i,hi„g ch«,eter """ '*•* """W >»'« presumed to «k {„ The Deacon, . little, round-shouldered, „.r- n.w-ehested m„ .f .eventy, with . s„„^ried fi«e, «. enonnou, nose, and . long receding ehin with . white beard beneath, p„«e«ed . pair of Wide-awake eyes that seemed m«,y years younger than himself. "I never have anything to do with r«,es Without thinkin- of Amos. Did you ever no- tice his?" "Yes; they are splendid ones." "Ain't they! Well, one momin', when he was a little boy, I was helpin' hi™ set out roses along the side of the house where the big trellis is, and he said he wanted red ones not yellow ones. I said: 'These are red on^s' They are cut from the same slip as the othe,^ and they've got to be red whether they want [ 109] m ft 1-* ail « My it \l^ AMOS JUDD to or not.' Pretty soon Josiah came out, and Amos said to him that he could see 'em next spring and they would all be yellow. And what took me all aback was that Josiah be- lieved it, and tried to persuade him that he might like yellow ones for a change. And I tell you,'^' said the Deacon, as ne fixed his little young eyes on her face to watch his effect, ''I just stood with my mouth open one momin', a year after, when I saw those roses, that oughter been red, just come out into a yeller. Of course it was a mistake in the bush dt how did he know?" "It might have been a coincidence." **Yes, it might have been a coincidence. But when a boy's life is made up of just those things you begin to suspect after a while that perhaps they are too everlastingly reliable for coincidences. You can't always bet on coinci- dences, but you can bet eveiy time on Amos. My daughter Phcebe kept school down in the [110] r AMOS JUDD village for a spell when Amos was about ten years old. There was another boy, Billy Hines, who never missed a lesson. Phebe knew he was a dull boy and that he always tried to give lamin' the whole road whenever he saw it comin', and it kinder surprised her to have him stand at the head of his class all the time and make better recitations than smarter boys who worked hard. But he always knew every- thing and never missed a question. He and Amos were great friends, more because Amos felt sorry for him, I guess, than anything else. Billy used to stand up and shine eveiy day, when she knew mighty well he was the slow- est chap in the whole school and hadn't stud- led his lessons neither. Well, one day Amos got hove about twenty feet by a colt he was tryin' to ride and he stayed in bed a few weeks. Durin' that time Billy Hines couldn't answer a question. Not a question. He and arithmetic were strangers. Also geography, [111] ■ >n'i W iii i ll i « AMOS JUDD history, and everything else that he'd been intimate with. He jest stopped shinin', like a candle with a stopper on it The amount of it was she found that Amos had always told him ahead the questions he was goin' to be asked, and Billy learned the answers just before he stood up to recite." "Why, how did Amos— how did Mr. Judd know what questions would be asked?" "I guess 'twas just a series of coincidences that happened to last all winter." Molly laughed. "How unforgiving you are, Mr. White! But did Amos Judd explain it?" "He did n't. He was too young then to do it to anybody's satisfaction, and now that he's older he won't" "Why not?" "Well, he 's kind of sensitive about it Never talks of those things, and don't like to have other folks." Molly stood looking over toward the Judd [ 112] AMOS JUDD houw, wondering how much of the Deacon's Ulc w« tn.th, and how much was village gos- sip exaggerated by repetition. "Did you ever hear about Josiah's death?" Molly shook her head "•Twas to him that Amos was fetched from India, One momin' Josiah and I were standin' in the doorway of his bam talkin'. The old b.m used to be closer to the house, but Amos tore it down after he built that tig new one. Josiah and I stood in the doorway talkin' about a new yoke of oxen; nothin' exdtin', for there wasn't any cause for it We stood in the door- way, both facin' out, when Josiah, without givin' a, y notice, sort of pitched forward and fell face down in the snow. I turned him over and tried to lift him up, but when I saw his face I was scared. Just at that particular min- ute the doctor, with Amos sittin' in the sleigh beside him, drove into the avenue and hurried along as if he knew there was trouble. We [ 113 J « If A MOS JUDD carried Josiah into the house, but "t wa'n't my use. He wm detA before we got him there. It WM heart disease. At the funeral I said to the doctor it was lucky he happened along just then, even if he couldn't save him, and I found there was no happen about it; that Amos had run to his house just as he was start- ing off somcwheres else, and told him Josiah was dyin' and to get there as fast as he could." "That's very strange," Molly said, in a low voice. She had listened to this story with a feeling of awe, for she believed the Deacon to be a truthful man, and this was an experience of his own. "This mysterious faculty," she said, "whatever it was, did he realise it fully him- self?" "I guess he did!" and the Deacon chuckled as he went on with his work. "And he used to play tricks with it. I tell you he was a handful." "Did you say he lost it as he grew up?" The Deacon turned about and answered, in [ 114] AMOS JUDD • .eriou. tone: "Na But he wnU folk, to think .o. All the «me. there's ,K>n,ething be- tween Amo. «d the Almighty that the rest of us ain't into." One Monday morning, towarf the last of June, Molly left Daleford for a two weeks- visit at the seashore. Her absence caused a void that extended from the Cabot household over to the big white mansion at the further end of the maples. This emptiness and desola- tion drove the young man to frequ.ut visits upon Mr. Cabot, who, in his turn, found a pleasant relief in the companionship of his neighbor, and he had no suspicion of the sol- ace this visitor derived from sitting upon the piazM so lately honored by the absent girl. The eminent lawyer was not aware that he himself, apart from all personal merit, was the object of an ardent affection from his relation- ship to his own daughter. For the first twenty, four hours the two disransolates kept in their [ 115] -:» ;iri i /" hmW I AMOS JUDD own preserves to a reasonable extent, but on Tuesday they took a fishing trip, followed in the evening by a long talk on the Cabot piazza. During this conversation the lawyer realized more fully than ever the courageous ignorance of his neighbor in all matters that had failed to interest him. On the other hand, he was impressed by the young man's clear, compre- hensive, and iietailed knowledge upon certain unfamiliar subjects. In spite of his college edu- cation and a very considerable knowledge of the worid he was, mentally, something of a spoiled child; yet from his good sense, origi- nality, and moral courage he was always inter- esting. Wednesday, the third day, brought a north- east gale that swept the hills and valleys of Daleford with a drenching rain. Trees, bushes, flowers, and blades of grass dripping with water, bent and quivered before the wind. Mr. Cabot spent the morning among his books [116] A M O s J r D D and papers, y.dting letter, and doing some work which the pleasant weather had caused him to defer. For such labors this day seemed especially designed. In the afternoon, about two o'clock, he stood looking out upon the storm from his library window, which was at the cor- ner of the house and commanded the long avenue toward the road. The tempest seemed to rage more viciously than ever. Bounding across the country in sheets of blinding rain, it beat savagely against the glass, then poured in unceasing torrents down the window-panes. The ground was soaked and spongy with tem- pestuous little puddles in every hollow of the surface. In the distance, under the tossing maples, he espied a figure coming along the driveway in a waterproof and rubber boots. He recognized Amos, his head to one side to keep his hat on, gently trotting before the gale, as the mighty force against his back ren- dered a certain degree of speed perfunctory. [ 117] ^ ^ 1 ' lit ■ ?! fi ■^r \ i 1 f.ii \ rf M .'. Trf "i I u u 1 ^'/l ! AMOS JUDD Mr. Cabot had begun to weary of solitude^ and saw with satisfaction that Amos crossed the road and continued along the avenue. Beneath his waterproof was something laige and bulg- ing, of which he seemed very careful. With a smiling salutation he splashed by the window toward the side door, laid off his outer coat and wiped his ponderous boots in the hall, then came into the library bearing an enormous bunch of magnificent yellow roses. Mr. Cabot recognized them as coming from a bush in which its owner took the greatest pride, and in a moment their fragrance filled the room. "What beauties!" he exclaimed. "But are you sure they are for me?" "If she decides to give them to you, sir." "She? Who? Bridget or Maggie?" "Neither. They belong to the lady who is now absent; whose soul is the Flower of Truth, and whose beauty is the Glory of the Morn- ing." Then he added, with a gesture of hu- [ 118] AMOS JUDD mility, "That is, of course, if she will deign to accept them." "But, my well-meaning young friend, were you gifted with less poetry and more expen- ence you would know that these roses will be faded and decaying memories long before the recipient returns. And you a farmer!" Amos looked at the clock. "You seem to have precious little confidence in my flowers, sir. They are good for three hours, I think." "Three hours! Yes, but to-day is Wednes- day and it is many times three hours before next Monday afternoon." A look of such complete surprise came into Araos's face that Mr. Cabot smiled as he asked, "Didn't you know her visit was to last a fortnight?" The young man made no answer to this, but looked first at his questioner and then at his roses with an air that struck Mr. Cabot at the moment as one of embarrassment. As he [119] 'i^' i i Ml U4 AMOS JUDD recalled it afterward, however, he gave it a dif- ferent significance. With his eyes still on the flowers Amos, in a lower voice, said, "Don't you know that she is coming to-day?" "No. Do you?" The idea of a secret correspondence between these two was not a pleasant surprise; and the ract that he had been successfully kept in igno- rance of an event of such importance irritated him more than he cared to show. He asked, somewhat dryly: "Have you heard from her?" "No, sir, not a word," and m their eyes met Mr. Cabot felt it was a truthful answer. "Then why do you think she is coming?" Amos looked at the clock and then at his watch. "Has no one gone to the station for her?" "No one," replied Mr. Cabot, as he turned away and seated himself at his desk. "Why should they?" Then, in a tone which struck its hearer as [ 120] b; m AMOS JUDD being somewhat more melancholy than the sit- uation demanded, the young man replied: "I will explain all this to-morrow, or whenever you wish, Mr. Cabot. It is a long stoiy, but if she does come to-day she will be at the station in about fifty minutes. You know what sort of a vehicle the stage is. May I drive over for her?" "Certainly, if you wish." The youpg man lingered a moment as if there was something more he wished to add, but left the room without saying it. A min- ute later he was running as fast as the gale would let him along the avenue toward his own house, and in a very short time Mr. Cabot saw a pair of horses with a covered buggy, its leather apron well up in front, come dashing down the avenue from the opposite house. Amid fountains of mud the little horses wheeled into the road, trotted swiftly toward the village and out of sight. An hour and a half later the same horses, [ 121 ] t i f'" m AMOS JUDD bespattered and dripping, drew up at the door. Amos got out first, and holding the reins with one hand, assisted Molly with the other. From the expression on the two faces it was evident their cheerfulness was more than a match for the fiercest weather. Mr. Cabot might perhaps hrve been ashamed to confess it, but his was a state of mind in which this excess of fehcity annoyed him. He felt a touch of resentment that another, however youthful and attractive, should have been taken into her confidence' while he was not even notified of her arrival. But she received a hearty welcome, and her impulsive, joyful embrace almost restored him to a normal condition. A few minutes later they were sitting in the libraiy, she upon his lap recounting the events that caused her unexpected return. Ned Elliott was quite ill when she got there, and last night the doctor pronounced it ty- phoid fever; that of course upset the whole [ 122 ] AMOS JUDD house, and she, knowing her room was needed, decided during the night to come home this morning. Such was the substance of the nar- rative, but told in many words, with every detail that occurred to her, and with frequent ramifications; for the busy lawyer had always made a point of taking a very serious interest in whatever his only child saw fit to tell him. And this had resulted in an intimacy and a reliance upon each other which was verjr dear to both. As Molly was telling her stoiy M«ggie came in fix,m the kitchen and ha:, ed her fa- ther a telegram, saying Joe had just brought it from the post-office. Mr. Cabot felt for his glasses and then remembered they were over on his desk. So Molly tore it open and read the message aloud. Hon. James Cabot, Dalepord, Covn. / lea^efor home this afternoon hy the I ,ti I fil If AMOS JUDD "Why, papa, it is my telegram ! How slow it has been!" "When did you send it?" "1 gave it to Sam Elliott about nine o'clock this morning, and it would n't be like him to forget it" "No, and probably he did not forget it. It only waited at the Bingham station a few hours to get its breath before starting on a six-mile walk." But he was glad to know she had sent the message. Suddenly she wheeled about on his knee and inserted her fingers between his col- lar and his neck, an old trick of her childhood and still employed when the closest attention was required. «But how did you know I was coming ? " "I did not" "But you sent for me." "No, Amos went for you of his own ac- cord." [ 124 ] AMOS JUDD "Well, how did he know I was coming?" Mr. Cabot raised his eyebrows. "1 have no idea, unless you s nt him word." "Of course I did n't send him word. What an idea! Why don't you tell me how you knew?" and the honest eyes were fixed upon his own in stem disapproval. He smiled and said it was evidently a mysterious case; that she must cross-examine the prophet. He then told her of the roses and of his interview with Amos. She was mystified, and also a little ex- cited as she recalled the stories of Deacon White, but knowing her father would only laugh at them, contented herself with exact- ing the promise of an immediate explar^tion from Mr. Judd. 1^1 I i If *• 1 [125] M i' fl' EARLY in the evening the young man ap- peared. He found Mr. Cabot and Molly sitting before a cheerful fire, an agreeable con- trast to the howling elements without. She thanked him for the roses, expressing her ad- miration for thei^ uncommon beauty. With a grave salutation he answered, "I told them, one morning, when they were little buds, that if they surpassed all previous roses there was a chance of being accepted by the Dispenser of Sunshine who dwells across the way; and this is the result of their efforts." "The results are superb, and I am grate- ful." "There is no question of their beauty," said Mr. Cabot, "and they appear to possess a knowledge of coming events that must be of value at times." "It was not from the roses I got my infor- [ 126] AMOS JUDD m.tion, sir. But I will tell you about that now, if you wish." "Well, take a cigar and clear up the rays- tery." It seemed a winter's evening, as the three «at before the fire, the older man in the cen- tre, the younger people on either side, facing each other. Mr. Cabot crossed his legs, and laying his magarine face downward upon his lap, said, "1 confess I shall be glad to have the puzzle solved, as it is a little deep for me ex- cept on the theory that you are skilful liars. Molly I know to be unpractised in that art, but as for you, Amos, I can only guess what you may conceal under a truthful exterior." Amos smiled. «It is something to look hon- est, and I am glad you can say even that." Then, after a pause, he leaned back in his chair and, in a voice at first a litUe con- strained, thus began: ''As long ago as I can remember I used to [127 ] r*' AMOS JUDD imagine things that were to happen, all sorts of scenes and events that might possibly oc- cur, as most children do, I suppose. But these scenes, or imaginings, were of two kinds: those that required a little effort of my own, and another kind that came with no effort what- ever. These last were the most usual, and were sometimes of use, as they always came true. That is, they never failed to occur just as I had seen them. While a child this did not sur- prise me, as I supposed all the rest of the world were just like myself." At this point Amos looked over toward Molly and added, with a faint smile, "I know just what your father is thinking. He is re- gretting that an otherwise healthy young man should develop such lamentable symptoms." "Not at all," said Mr. Cabot. "It is veiy interesting. Go on." She felt annoyed by her father's calmness. Here was the most extraordinary, the most [ 128 J AMOS J UDD tn^^rellous thing .he had ever encountered, •nd yet he behaved as if it were a common- place experience of every-day life. And he must know that Amos was telling the tnith! But Amos himself showed no signs of annoy- ance. "As I grew older and discovered gradually that none of m; friends had this faculty, and that people looked upon it as something un- canny and supernatural, I learned to keep it to myself. I became almost ashamed of the pecu- liarity and tried by disuse to outgn>w it, but such a power is too useful a thing to ignore al- together, and there are times when the temp- tation is hard to resist. That was the case this afternoon. I expected a friend who was to tele- graph me if unable to come, and at half-past two no message had arrived: but being familiar with the customs of the Daleford office I knew there might be a dozen telegrams and I get none the wiser. So, not wishing to drive twelve [ 12J) ] i t i I AMOS JUDD miles for nothing in such a storm, I yielded to the old temptetion and put myself ahead —in spirit of course— and saw the train as it arrived. You can imagine my surprise when the first person to get off was Miss Molly Cabot" Her eyes were glowing with excitement Re- pressing an exclamation of wonder, she turned toward her father and was astonished, and gently indignant, to find him in the placid enjoyment of his cigar, showing no surprise. Then she asked of Amos, almost in a whisper, for her throat seemed very dry, "What Ume was it when you saw this?" "About half-past two." "And the train got in at four." "Yes, about four." "You saw what occurred on the platform as if you were there in person?" Mr. Cabot in- quired. **Yes, sir. The conductor helped her out and [ 130] AMOS JUDD she Started to run into the station to get out of the rain." "Yes, yes!" from Molly. "But the wind twisted you about and blew you against him. And you both stuck there for a second." She laughed nervously: "Yes, that is just what hapi>ened!" "But I am surprised, Amos," put in Mr. Cabot, "that you should have had so little sympathy for a tempest-tossed lady as to fiul to observe there was no carriage." "I took it for granted you had sent for her." "But you saw there was none at the sta- tion." "There might have been several and I not see them." "Then your vision was limited to a certain spot?" "Yes, sir, in a way, for I could only see as if [ 131 J ^1 4 ti i 111 ■ 'I 5 I AMOS JUDD I were there in person, and I did not move around to the other side of the station." "Didn't you take notice as you approached?" Amos drew a hand up the back of his head and hesitoted before answering. "I closed my eyes at home with a wish to be at the station as the train came in, and I found myself there without approaching it from any particular direction." "And if you had looked down the road," Mr. Cabot continued, after a pause, "you would have seen yourself approaching in a buggy?" "Yes, probably." "And from the buggy you might almost have seen what you have just described." This was said so calmly and pleasantly that Molly, for an instant, did not catch its full meaning; then her eyes, in disappointment, turned to Amos. She thought there was a flush on the dark face, and something resembling anger as [ 132] AMOS JUDD the eyes turned toward her father. But Mr. Cabot was watching the smoke as it curled from his hps. After a very short pause Amos said, quietly, "It had not occurred to me that my statement could place me in such an un- fortunate position." "Not at all unfortunate," and Mr. Ubot raised a hand in protest. "I know you too well, Amos, to doubt ;'our sincerity. The worst I can possibly believe is that you yourself are mis- led: that you are perhaps attaching a false sig- nificance to a series of events that might be explained in another way." Amos arose and stood facing them with his back against the mantel. "You are much too clever for me, Mr. Cabot. I hardly thought you could accept this explanation, but I have told you nothing but the truth." "My dear boy, do not think for a moment that I doubt your honesty. Older men than you, and harder-headed ones, have digested [ 133] ^: m f5>! I 'i ^\ %, ill AMOS JUDD more incredible things. In telling your stoiy you ask me to believe what I consider impos- Bible. There is no wdUuthenticated case on record of such a faculty. It would interfere with the workings of nature. Future events could not arrange themselves with any confi- dence in your vicinity, and aU historjr that is to come, and even the elements, would be com- pelled to adjust themselves according to your predictions." ' "But, papa, you yourself had positive evi- dence that he knew of my coming two hou« before I came. How do you explain that?" "I do not pretend to explain it, and I will not infuriate Amos by calling it a good guess, or a startling coincidence." Amos smiled. «Oh, call it what you please, Mr. Cabot But it seems to me that the fact of these things invariably coming true ought to count for something, even with the legal mind." [ 134] AMOS JUDD "You say there has never been a single case in which your prophecy has failed?" "Not one." "Suppose, just for illustration, that you should look ahead and see yourself in church next Sunday standing on your head in the aisle, and suppose you had a serious unwilling- ness to perform the act. Would you still go to church and do it?" "I should go to church and do i "Out of respect for the prophecy?" "No, bee nse I could not prevent it" "Have you often resisted?" "Not veiy often, but enough to le-- the lesson." "And you have always fulfilled the proph- ecy?" "Always." There was a short sUence during which Molly kept her eyes on her work, while Amos stood silently beside the fire as if there was f I.'?5 ] i«) i IW 4S9»'' AMOS JUDD "oUU^ »»« •» b. -id FMy M. CM taockea the «h« ft™, h^ ^ .^ -.«. hi. ple...„t..t ™uie, »D. ,.„ tfctok if o-e of these «ene. i.,„,v«, th, „„,„. ^ would alK> emy it oBt?" "I thinit «o." "•n..t if ,„„ t.u „,^ f„ ,„^^^^^ ^^^ tlung I rf..„M d. ,.-„,„«, .t j,,,^^ ^.^^^ I should do it?" ' "I thinlc so." """"""»' ""'«5»% to do to.„onow.t noon, „ the cloek striltes twelve?" "Give me five minute,," „d with dosed eye, .nd he«l slightly inclined, the young ■^ "■""""' ■'"*« ««™,t the mantel «thout eh«.ging hi, position. It „emed . long five minute,. Outside, the tempe,t be.t vciously against the windows, then with moek- «eks whirled away into the night To Molly, excited fancy the echoing chimney [136] HI AMOS JUDD WM alive with the mutterings of unearthly voices. Although in her father's judgment she pUced a perfect trust, there stUl remained a lingering faith in this supernatural power, whatever it was; but she knew it to be a foith her reason might not support. As for Amos, he was certainly an interesting figure as he stood before them, and nothing could be easier at such a moment than for an imaginative girl to invest him with mystic attributes. Although outwardly American so far as raiment, the cut of his hair, and his own efforts could produce that impression, he remained, nevertheless, distinctly Oriental. The dark skin, the long, black, clearly marked eyebrows, the singular beauty of his features, almost feminine in their refinement, betrayed a race whose origin and btiditions were far removed from his present surroundings. She was struck by the little scar upon his forehead, which seemed, of a sudden, to glow and be alive, as if catching some re- [ 137 ] % It 'i.i P M %> AMOS JUDD flection fitm, the firelight WhUe her eye. were upon it, the fire bhued up in . dying effort, •nd went out; but the little scar remained . luminous spot with . f.i„t light of it. own. She drew her hand ac«>ss her bn,w to brush •way the illusion, and as she again looked to- ward him he opened his eyes and ndsed his head. Then he said to her father, slowly, as if from a desire to make no mistake: "To-morrow you will be standing i„ fto„t rf the Unitarian Church, looking up at the clock on the steeple as it strikes twelve. Then you will walk along by the Common until you are opposite Caleb Famum's, cross the street, and knock at his door. Mrs. Farnum will open it She will show you into the parlor, the room on the right, where you will sit down in a rocking, chair and wait I left you there, but can tell you the rest if you choose to give the time." MoUy glanced at her father and was sur- prised by his expression. Bending forward, his [ 138 J AMOS JUDD eyes fixed upon Amot with a look of the deep- est interest, he nude no effort to conceal his astonishment He leaned back in the chair, however, and resuming his old atUtude, said, quietly: "That is precisely what I intended to do to- morrow, and at twelve o'clock, as I knew he would be at home for his dinner. Is it possible that a wholesome, out-of-doors young chap like you can be something of a mind-reader and not know it?" "No, sir. I have no such talent." "Are you sure?" "Absolutely sure. It happens that you al- ready intended to do the thing mentioned, but that was merely a coincidence." For a moment or two there was a silence, during which Mr. Cabot seemed more inter- ested in the appearance of his cigar than in the previous conversation. At last he said: "I understand you to say these scenes, or [ 139] i 'I f^l AMOS JUDD prophcciei, or whatever you caU them, have never failed of coining true. Now, if I wilfully refrain from calling on Mr. Famum to-morrow it wiU have a tendency to prove, will it not, that your system is fallible?" "I suppose so." "And if you can catch it in several such errors you might* in time lose confidence in it?" "Very likely, but I think it will never hap- pen. At least, not in such a way." "Just leave that to me," and Mr. Cabot rose from his seat and stood beside him in front of the fire. "The only mystery. In my opinion, is * vivid imagination that sometimes gets the better of your facts; or rather combines with your facts and gets the better of yourself. These visions, however real, are such as come not only to hosts of children, but to many older people who are highstrung and imagina- tive. As for the prophetic faculty, don't let [ 140 ] that AMOS JUDD wony you. It i. . bump that hw not ■prouted Dwiel and Eiy.h ^ the only expert, of per- nuncnt .fnding in th.t line, and even their reputation* arc not what they used to be." Amo. .miled and said «,mething about not pretending to compete with professionals, and the conver«ition turned to other matters. After his departure, as they went upstairs, Molly li„. gered in her father's chamber a moment and «ked if he really thought Mr. Judd had seen from his buggy the little incident at the sta- tion which he thought had appeared to him in his vision. "It seems safe to suppose so," he answered. And he could easily be misled by a little se- quence of facts, fancies, and coincidences that happened to form a harmonious whole." "But in other matters he seems so sensible, and he certainly is not easily deceived." "Yes, I know, but those are often the veiy [ 141 J tt i ili I n n ; AMOS JUDD people who become the readiest victims. Now Amos, with all his practical common-sense, I know to be unusually romantic and imagina- tive. He loves the mystic and the fabulous. The other day while we were fishing together- thank you, Maggie does love a fresh place for my slippers every night— the other day I dis- covered, from several things he said, that he was an out-and-out fatalist But I think we can weaken nis faith in all that. He is too young and healthy and has too free a mind to remain a permanent dupe." [ 142] VI I 'T^HE next morning was clear and bright X Mr. Cabot, absorbed in his work, spent nearly the whole forenoon among his papers, and when he saw Molly in her little cart drive up to the do with a seamstress from the vil- lage, he knew the day was getting on. Seeing him still at his desk as she entered, she bent over him and put a hand before his eyes. «0h, crazy man! You have no idea what a day it is,' and to waste it over an ink-pot! Why, it is half-past eleven, and I believe you have been here ever since I left. Stop that work this minute and go out of doors." A cool cheek was laid against his face and the pen removed from his fingers. «Now mind." "Well, you are right Let us both take a walk." "I wish I could, but I must start Mrs. Turr.er on her sewing. Please go youreelf. It is a h uv- enly day." f ,43 j ! Hi I . AMOS JUDD As he stepped off the piazza a few minutes later, she called oiit from her chamber window, "Which way are you going, papa?" "To the village, and I will get the mail." "Be sure and not go to Mr. Famum's." "I promise," and with a smile he walked away. Her enthusiasm over the quality of the day he found was not misplaced. The pure, fresh air brought a new life. Gigantic snowy clouds, like the floating mountains of fairy land, moved majestically across the heavens, and the distant hills stood clear and sharp against the dazzling blue. The road was muddy, but that was a detail to a lover of nature, and Mr. Cabot, as he strode rapidly toward the vil- lage, experienced an elasticity and exhilara- tion that recalled his younger days. He felt more like dancing or climbing trees than plod- ding sedately along a turnpike. With a quick, youthful step he ascended the gentle incline that led to the Common, and if a stranger had [ 144 ] AMOS JUDD been caUed upon to guess at the gentlenum's •«e M he walked jauntily into the village with head erect, swinging his cane, he would more likely have said thirty years than sixty. And if the stranger had watched him for another three minutes he would have modified his guess, and not only have given him credit for his full age, but might have suspected either an excessive fatigue or a mild intemperance For Mr. Cabot, during his short walk thix,ugh Daleford Village, experienced a series of sen- sations so novel and so crushing that he never, in his inner self, recovered completely fo,m' the shock. Instead of keeping along the sidewalk to the right and going to the post-office accord- ing to his custom, he crossed the muddy road and took the gravel walk that skirted the Common. It seemed a natural course, and he failed to realize, until he had done it, that he was going out of his way. Now he must cross f 145 ] ^1 ^» ll AMOS JUDD the road again when opposite the store. When opposite the store^ however, instead of crossing over he kept along as he had started. Then he stopped, as if to turn, but his hesitation was for a second only. Again he went ahead, along the same path, by the side of the Common. It was then that Mr. Cabot felt a mild but un- pleasant thrill creep upward along his spine and through his hair. This was caused by a startling suspicion that his movements were not in obedience to his own will. A moment later it became a conviction. This conscious- ness brought the cold sweat to his brow, but he was too strong a man, too clear-headed and determined, to lose his bearings without a struggle or without a definite reason. With all the force of his nature he stopped once more to decide it, then and there: and again he started forward. An indefinable, all-pervading force, gentle but immeasurably stronger than himself, was exerting an intangible pressure, [146] AMOS JUDD and never in his recollection had he felt so powerless, so weak, so completely at the mercy of something that was no part of himself; yet, while amazed and impressed beyond his own belief, he suffered no obscurity of intellect. The first surprise over, he was more puzzled than terrified, more irritated than resigned. For nearly a hundred yards he walked on, impelled by he knew not what; then, with de- liberate resolution, he stopped, clutched the wooden railing at his side, and held it with an iron grip. As he did so, the clock in the belfiy of the Unitarian Church across the road began striking twelve. He raised his eyes, and, re- calling the prophecy of Amos, he bit his Mp, and his head reeled as m a dream, "To-' morrow, as the clock strikes twelve, you will be standing in front of the Unitarian Church, looking up at it" Each stroke of the bell— and no bell ever sounded so loud-vibrated through every nerve of his being. It was harsh, [ 147 1 Kt li I \\' AMOS JUDD exultant, almost threatening, and his brain in a numb, dull way seemed to quiver beneath the blows. Yet, up there, about the white bel- fry, pigeons strutted along the moulding, coo- ing, quarrelsome, and important, Uke any other pigeons. And the sunlight was even brighter than usual; the sky bluer and more dazzling. The tall spu^, frpm the moving clouds behind it, seemed like a huge ship, sailing forward and upward as if he and it were floating to a different world. Still holding fast to the fence, he drew the other hand sharply across his eyes to raUy his wavering senses. The big elms towered se- renely above him, their leaves rustling Uke a countless chorus in the summer breeze. Oppo- site, the row of old-fashioned New England houses stood calmly in their places, self-pos- sessed, with no signs of agitation. The world, to their knowledge, had undergone no sudden changes within the last five minutes. It must [ 148 J AMOS JUDD have been a delusion: a little collapge of his nerves, perhaps. So many things can affect the brain: any doctor could easily explain it. He would rest a minute, then return. As he made this resolve his left hand, like a treacherous servant, quietly relaxed its hold and he started off, not toward his h6me, but forward, continuing his journey. He now real- ized that the force which impelled him, al- though gentle and seemingly not hostile in purpose, was so much stronger than himself that resistance was useless. During the next three minutes, as he walked mechanically along the sidewalk by the Common, his brain was nervously active in an effort to arrive at some solution of this erratic business; some sensible solution that was based either on science or on common-sense. But that solace was denied him. The more he thought the less he knew. No previous experience of his own, and no authen- ticated experience of anyone else, at least of [ 149 ] 1i Hi \'J f AMOS JUDD which he had ever heard, could he summon to assist him. When opposite the house of SiUs Famum he turned and left the sidewalk, and noticed, with an irresponsible interest as he crossed the road, that with no care of his own he avoided the puddles and selected for his feet the drier places. This was another sur- prise, for he took no thought of his steps; and the discoveiy added to the overwhelming sense of helplessness that was taking possession of him. With no volition of his own he also avoided the wet grass between the road and the gravel walk. He next found himself in front of Siks Famum's gate and his hand reached forth to open it It was another nuld surprise when this hand, like a conscious thing, tried the wrong side of the little gate, then felt about for the latch. The legs over which he had ceased to have .direction, carried him along the narrow brick walk, and one of them Ufted him upon the granite doorstep. [ 150] AMOS JUDD Once more he resolved, calmly and with a serious determination, that this humiliating comedy should go no farther. He would turn •bout and go home without entering the house. It would be well for Amos to know that an old lawyer of sixty was composed of diflPerent material from the impressionable en- thusiast of twenty-seven. WhUe making this resolve the soles of his shoes were drawing themselves across the m,n semper; then he saw his hand rise slowly toward the old-fash- ioned knocker and, with three taps, announce his presence. A huge fly doring on the knocker flew off and lit again upon the panel of the door. As it readjusted its wings and drew a pah- of front legs over the top of its head Mr. Cabot wondered, if at the creation of the world, it was fore-ordained that this insect should occupy that identical spot at a sped- fied moment of a certain day, and execute this trivial performance. If so, what a role [ 151 ] f i I- . i 4 i. 1 i! I I I p: li AMOS JUDD humanity w«s playing! The door opened and Mn. Faraum, with a smiling face, stood before him. "How do you do, Mr. Cabot? Won't you step in?" As he opened his lips to decline, he entered the little hallway, was shown into the parlor and sat in a horse-hair rocking-chair, in which he waited for Mrs. Famum to call her hus- band. When the husband came Mr. Cabot stated his business and found that he was once more dependent upon his own volition. He could rise, walk to the window, say what he wished, and sit down again when he de- sired. Upon reaching home he went directly to his chamber, and was glad to enter it without meeting his daughter. His reflection in the mirror surprised him, as he expected to find a face thirty years older than when it started for the village. But there were no outward [ 152 ] I , AMOS J UDD twees of the recent struggle. It was the same face, calm, firm, and as self-reliant as ever. This was reassuring and did much toward a re- turn of confidence. He threw himself upon the bed, and as he laj there he heard through the open window the voices of Molly and Amos in the old-fashioned garden. They seemed veiy jolly and happy, and Molly's laughter came like music to his ears; but her companion, although amusing and full of fun, seemed to do none of the laughing; and then it came upon him that in all his intercourse with Amos he had never heard him laugh. Ever ready to smile, and often irresistible in his high spirits, yet he never laughed aloud. And the deep melancholy of his face when in repose— was that a result of fulfilling prophecies? Were there solemn secrets behind that boyish face? The perfume of the flowers stole in through the closed blinds, and he could hear the buzz- ing of a bee outside the window, mingling [ 153] 1^ t f,. i,( AMOS J UDD with the voices in the garden. TheM voice* becwne lower, the rabject of conversation hav ing changed-perhaps to something more se- rious— and Mr. Cabot took a nap. [ 154 ] f*'. VII D ID you go to Silas [• ar. j'K , wn- Molly'i first questioc u> d ..r futhir confessed having done prerist l • r.s Amos fiad predicted; but while givnif a tr uMn! a. comt of his experience, he told ihe story a a haJf- jesting manner, attributing lii couipuJsory visit to some hypnotic influence, and to a tem- porary irresponsibility of his own. His daugh- ter, however, was not deceived Her belief in a supernatural agency renewed its strength. As for her father, he had never been more *t sea in the solution of a problem. In his own mind the only explanation was by the domi- nance of another mind over his own, by a force presumably mesmeric. The fact that Amos himself was also a victim rendered that theory difficult to accept, unless both were dupes of some third person. If at the time of his visit to Silas Famum he had been Ul, or weak, or in a [ 155 ] iii p f:' *. I ■h ^n r ; 1. f i I AMOS JUDD nervous condition, or had it occurred at night when the imagination might get the better of one's judgment, there would have been the possibility of an explanation on physical grounds. But that he, James Cabot, of good health and strength, should, in the sunlight of a summer noon, be the powerless victim of such an influence, was a theory so mortifying and preposterous as to upset his usual pro- cesses of reason. It was not untU the next afternoon that an opportunity was given for a word with Amos. Out on the grass, beneath a huge elm at the easterly comer of the house, Mr. Cabot, in a bamboo chair, was reclining with his paper, when he noticed his young friend cantering briskly along the road on a chestnut horse. Amos saw him, turned his animal toward the low stone wall that separated the Cabots* field from the highway, cleared it with an easy jump and came cantering over the grass. [156] t AMOS JUDD "Is that old Betty? I didn't know she was a jumper." "Oh, yes. She has a record." Dismounting, he faced her about and, with a tap on the flank, told her to go home. She returned, how- ever, and showed a desire to rub noses with him. "Well, have your way, old lady," and leaving her to a feast of clover he threw him- self on the ground at Mr. Cabot's feet. "You are a kind man to your animals, Amos, although you may be somewhat offensive as a prophet" "So you went, after all?" "Went where?" "To see Silas Famum." "Did I say that?" Amos looked up with a smile that could have a dozen meanings. His wily companion, from a sense of professional cauUon, wished to feel his way before committing himself. "You think I went, after all?" [ 157] pi : I I* AMOS J UDD ''Yes, sir, I know you did, from my own experience." "Which is that the events inevitably occur as foreseen?" "Always." "Well, I will make a clean breast of it and tell you just what happened." "I know it, already, Mr. Cabot, as well as if you had told me." "Do you know of my resolve not to do it? Of my ineffectual resistance and the sensations I experienced?" "I think so. I have been through it all my- self." For a minute or two neither spoke. Amos, resting upon an elbow, his cheek against the palm of one hand, was, with the other, de- ceiving a very small caterpillar into useless marches from one end of a blade of grass to the other. Mr. Cabot, in a more serious tone, continued: "Can you tell me, Amos, on your [ 158 ] /h AMOS JUDD honor, that as far as you know there was no at- tempt on your part, or on the part of any other person, to influence me upon that occasion?" Amos tossed aside the blade of grass and sat up. «I give you my word, sir, that so far as I know there is nothing in it of that nature. I am just as helpless as you when it comes to any attempt at resistance." "Then how do you account for it?" Amos had plucked a longer blade of grass, and was winding it about his fingers. "My explanation may seem childish to you, but I have no better one to offer. It is simply that certain events are destined to occur at ap- pointed times, and that my knowing it in ad- vance is not allowed to interfere with the natural order of things." "The evidence may seem to point that way, judging from my own experience, but can you believe that the whole human race are carry- ing out such a cut-and-dried scheme? Accord- [ i59 ] k lii 1 > . ill ill t ■•/• AMOS JUDD ing to that theory we are merely mechanical dummies, irresponsible and helpless, like cogs in a wheel." "No, sir, we are at liberty to do just as we please. It was your own idea going to Silas Famum's. That you happened to be told of it in advance created an artificial condition, otherwise you would have gone there in peace and happiness. In other words, it was ordained that you should desire to do that thing, and you were to do as you desired." The lawyer remained silent a moment, his face giving no indication either of belief or denial. "Have you never been able to prevent or even modify the fulfilment of an act after having seen it in advance?" "No, sir; never." "Then these scenes as presented to you are invariably correct, without the slightest change?" [ 160] 'Ai ■ I ' I AMOS J UDD "Yes." Mr. Cabot looked down at his friend with a feeling that was not without a touch of awe. Of the young man's honesty he had not the slightest doubt, and his own recent experience seemed but one more proof of the correctness of his facts. He looked with a curious interest upon this mysterious yet simple Oriental squat- ting idly on the grass, his straw hat tilted back on his head, the dark face bent forward, as with careful fingers he gathered a bunch of clover. "If this faculty never fails you your knowl- edge of future events is simply without limit. You can tell about the weather, the crops, the stock market, the result of wars, marriages, births, and deaths, and who the next president is to be." "Ye?, sir," he answered quietly, without looking up. Mr. Cabot straightened up in his chair and rubbed his chin. His credulity had .cached its [ 161 J Hi i ■i> i^i uit AMOS JUDD limit, yet, if he could judge by the evidence already presented, the young man was adher- ing strictly to the truth. There followed a silence during which Betty, who in nibbling about had approached within a few feet of them, held out her head, and took the clover from Amos. Mr. Cabot brought a pencil and piece of paper from his pockets. "I would like to try one more' experiment, with your per- mission. Will you write on that paper what I am to do at— well, say ten o'clock to-night?" Amos took the paper and closed his eyes, but in a moment looked up and said, " You are in the dark and I can see nothing." "Then you have no knowledge of what goes on in the dark?" "No, sir; only of things that I can see. If there is any light at all I can see as if I were there in person, but no better. To-night at ten o'clock you are in your own chamber, and it is absolutely black." [ 162] llfl/l AMOS JUDD "Then change the hour to six o'clock." As Mr. Cabot, a moment later, turned a sidelong glance toward his friend, sitting with closed eyes before him, he thought the little mark upon his forehead had never been so distinct. He regarded it with a mild surprise as it seemed almost aglow; but the sky was becoming rosy in the west, and there might be a reflection from the setting sun. Amos wrote something on a slip of paper, folded it up and returned it to Mr. Cabot, who carefully tucked it away in a pocket saying, "I shall not read it until six-thirty. I will tell you to-morrow if you are correct." "Oh, that is correct, sir! You need have no anxiety on that point." As he spoke there passed slowly along the road a cart containing two men, and behind the cart, securely fastened, walked a heavy, vicious-looking bull. "That is an ugly brute," he said. [ 163 J .?■ I yt, (- 1 k rti J -' m 1*1 !t AMOS JUDD "So I was just thinking. Does he belong in the town?" "Yes; it is Banuud's bull. Yesterday he got loose and so mutilated a horse that it had to be shot; and within an hour he tried his best to kill old Barnard himself, which was a good undertaking and showed public spirit He is sure to have a victim sooner or later, and it certamly ought to«be old Barnard if anybody." "Who is Barnard?" "He is the oyster-eyed, malignant old liar and skinflint who lives in that red house about a mile below here." "You seem to like him." "I hate him." "What has he done to you?" "Nothing; but he bullies his wife, starves his cattle, and cheats his neighbors. Even as a small boy I knew enough to dislike him, and whenever he went by the house I used to stone him." [ 164 ] AMOS JUDD "What • pleasant little neighbor you murt have been!" Amos tried to smUe, but his anger was evi- dentij too serious a matter to be treated with disrespect Mr. Cabot, after regarding for a moment the wmthful eyes that still followed the bull, continued: "You are more than half barbarian, my war- like farmer. Must you do physical damage to eveiyone you dislike ? " "No, sir; but as a rule I should like to. As for loving your enemies-count me out I love my friends. The man who pretends to love his enemies is either a hypocrite or a poor hater." The older man smiled at the earnestness with which this sentence was uttered. «I am *fi»id, Mr. Amos Judd, you are not a Chris- tian. Take my advice and join a bible-class before the devil gets his other hand upon you." [ 165 ] I » i\ AMOS JUDD After a few words on other matters, Amos called his mare, and departed. As the hour of six drew near, Mr. Cabot made a point of realising that he was a free agent and could do whatever he wished, and he resolved that no guess, based on a proba- bility, should prove correct. To assure himself that there was ao omnpnlsion or outside influ- ence of any nature, he started first for the bam to execute a fantastic resolve, then as an addi- tional proof that he was absolutely his own master, suddenly changed his mind, turned about, and went upstairs. Going along a back passage with no definite intention, he paused at a half-open door, looked in, and entered. The blinds were closed, but between the slats came bars of light fi«m the western sun, illuminh)g the little room, an un- used chamber, now serving as a storehouse for such trunks and sundry relics as had failed to reach the attic. Mr. Cabot noticed a rocking- [166] AMOS JUDD hone in one comer and his eyes sparkled with a new idea. After closing the door he dragged the steed from its resting-place, planted it in the middle of the floor, and looked at his watch. It lacked four minutes of six. At he prepared to mount he saw the legs of a mg- baby projecting over a shelf, and pulling her down, could not restrain a smile as he held her in his arms. A large, round, flat, and very pale but dirty &ce was emphasized by fieiy cheeks, whose color, from a want of harmony with the ooane material of her visage, had only lingered in erratic blotches. With this lady in his arms he mounted the horse, and, while gently rock- ing with both feet on the ground, he again took out his watch and found he was just on the minute of six o'clock. But he kept his seat for a moment longer, judging the situation too good to be trifled with, and too unusual for any ordinary guess. Carelessly he rocked a lit- Ue faster, when a front foot of his overladen [ 167 ] *^ ill MKROCOrV RBOIUTION TIST CHAIT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) TIPPLED (IS/HGE Inc 1693 East Main Straai Rpchyrttr. Nm Yort 14609 US* (716) 4«2 -0300- PhooT^ (716) 288--SM<)-Fqx ^ ,r«, I V'i ') I J, AMOS JUDD steed slipped from its rocker and Mr, Cabot nearly lost his balance. The damage, however, he easily repaired; the rag-baby was replaced upon her shelf, and when he left the little room and returned to his own chamber there was an expression upon his face that seemed indicative of an amiable triumph. Some minutes later, with a similar expression, he took from his pocket; the sHp of paper on which Amos had written, read it once with some haste, then a second time and more carefully. The Hon. James Cabot, one of the most respected residents of Daleford, attempted at six o'clock to elope with an obscure maiden of the village. But his horse, an animal with one glass eye and no tail, broke down before they had fairly started and went lame in his off front foot. For several minutes he stood looking down at the paper between his fingers, occasionally drawing a hand across his forehead. Then he [ 168] ; >:(» f 1 h 1 p ! i- 1. 1; m ihll f X- AMOS JUDD refolded the paper and placing it in his pocket, took his hat and went out into the orchard, to think, and to be alone. On questioning Amos he found no more light was to be expected from that quarter, as the young man had already expounded his only theory, which was that these visions were but optional warnings of the inevitable; that all was fore-ordained: that there could be no variations in the course of Fate. His mind was not philosophical; his processes of reason were simple and direct, and he listened with pro- found interest to Mr. Cabot's deeper and more scientific attempts at reaching a consistent ex- planation. Little progress, however, was made in this direction, and the lawyer admitted that the evidence, so far, contradicted in no detail his friend's belief. He also found that Amos, although deeply concerned in the subject when once opened, rarely introduced it himself or referred to it in any way; and that he never [ 169 J . I 4 m AMOS JfJDD employed hi, power exeept i„ the «re,t emer. gencies. Moreover, the L^^er unde«too ful, half-plain- tive tone, and so delightfully free from any boastfulness that Molly, to conceal something very near a smile, bent her head and picked nettles from her skirt "Of courpj I liked a good time, there is no denying that, and I struck the wrong gang at college. I suppose I was weak— everlastingly and disgustingly weak; but really you might make allowances, and anyw&y — " He stopped abruptly and turned about Looking up she saw an expression in his eyes, as they gazed at something behind her, that caused her to spring to her feet and also turn about As she did so the color left her face and her knees gave way beneath her. Instinctively she clutched his arm. Within twenty yards of them stood Barnard's bull, and in his broad black head and cruel horns, in the distended nostrils and bloodshot eye, she read the fury of an unreasoning brute; and with it her own [175] i 1 m a' AMOS J UDD death and mutilation. HelpleM they stood in the open pasture with no tree or refuge near. Amos cast a swift glance to the right, to the left, and behind them. The bull lowered his head just a very little, and as he stepped slowly forward she could hear his breath in impatient puffs. Her brain began to swim and hhe closed her eyes, but a sharp word and a rough shake bi;ought her back with a start "Do just as I tell you. Turn and walk slowly off to the wall at the right. Then climb over. Don't run till I say so. Give me your parasol." He twisted her about and gave her a push. "Don't look around." Gasping, faint, and so weak from terror that she could hardly direct her steps, she did as she was told. In her dazed mind there was no conception of time or distance, but, a moment after, hearing a snort from the bull and the quick pounding of his feet, she stopped and turned. She expected to see Amos on the crea- [ 176 ] AMOS JUDI) tnre'i horns, but AnuM wm running in the other direction, so far safe, although scarcely his own length ahead. In an insUnt she saw to her horror that, although a nimble runner, he was losing distance with every spring of the bull. But with a presence of mind that did much toward renewing her own courage, he kept looking over his shoulder, and when fur- ther running was hopeless, he jumped swiftly to one side, the side up the hill, and the pon- derous brute plunged on for several feet before he could come to a stop. Amos looked at once in her direction, and when he saw her he shook his hand and cried, in an angry voice: "Run! Run! Your life depends on it!" There was no time to say more, for the bull had wheeled and was again coming toward him. Molly turned and ran as she never ran before, and never before did so many thoughts flash through her mind. Above all came the tort:uring regret that she could be of no pos- [ 177 J I i AMOS JUDD Bible service to the man who, at that moment perhaps, was giving up his life for hers. Leap- ing rocks, stumbling over hillocks, tearing through bushes, she Fnall^ reached the wall, scrambled up and over as best she could, then, with a throbbing heart anr] pallid face, looked back into the field. They were farther up the hill, and Amos had evidently j\i8t jumped aside, for again the bull and he were facing each other. The ani- mal was advancing slowly toward him, head down, with an angry lashing of the tail and occasional snorts that drove the blood from the t spectator's heart As Amos retreated slowly, his face to the animal, she saw him look swiftly in her direction, then back at the bull. Faster and faster the animal came toward him, and when finally he bounded forward on a run Amos turned and ran for his life. He was now making for this side of the pasture, but she saw with the keenest anguish that all his elas- [ 178] AMOS JUDD tidty had departed, that he was losing ground much faster than at first. That he should show signs of exhaustion caused her no surprise, for the ground was rough, low briars and bushes concealing rocks of treacherous shapes and varying sizes, and the race was harder for the man than for the bull. The distance between them was being lessened with a rapidity that might end the struggle without a second's warning, and the horns were now within a yard of his heels. Again he jumped to one side, but this time it brought a cry of agony from beyond the wall. His foot slipped, and instead of hmding a yard or more from the creature's path, he measured his length upon the ground. The bull lowered his head and plunged sav- «gely upon him. The horns grazed the pros- trate body, and the heavy brute, by his own impetus, dashed a dozen yards beyond. Amos raised first his head and shoulders, then climbed to his feet, slowly, like one bewildered [ 179] '1 V. i ti AMOS JUDD or in pain. He stood cautiously apon his legs as if uncertain of their allegiance, but he still clutched the crimson sunshade. The bull, with fiery nostrils and bloodshot eyes, once more came on, and Amos started for the wall. It was evident to the one spectator that his strength was gone. With every jump of the thing behind him he was losing ground, and the awful end was near, and coming swiftly. She sank against the wall and clutched it, for the sky and pasture were beginning to revolve before her straming eyes. But Amos, instead of coming straight for the wall, bore down the hill. With the hot breath close upon his heels, he opened the crimson sunshade, jumped aside, and thrust it upon the pursuing horns: then without looking back he made a bee-line for the wall. It was skilfully done, and for one precious moment the seeming victor was de- layed by goring the infuriating color; but only for a moment. He saw his enemy escaping and [ 180] AMOS JUDD bounded in pursuit. This time, however, he missed him by a dozen feet and saw him vault the barrier into safety. The wall he accepted as a conclusion, but he stood close against it, looking over in sullen anger, frothing, hot- eyed, and out of breath. Then he witnessed a scene, to him of little interest, but which signified much to another person. He saw the girl, anxious, pale, with dis- ordered hair, eagerly approach the exhausted runner; then, nervously pressing a hand to her cheek, she bent forward and asked a ques- tion. The young man, who was leaning against a tree and seemed to have trouble with his breathing, suddenly, with a joyful face, stretched forth his hands, and with even more eagerness than her own, asked in his turn a question, whereupon the color rushed to her face. Looking down, then up at him, then down again, she smiled and muttered some- thing, and he, without waiting for further [ 181 ] mi AMOS JUDD words, seized her in his arms, and with one hand holding her chin, kissed her mouth and cheeks, not once but many times. But she pushed away from him, flushed and possibly angry. However, it could not have been a deep-seated or lasting anger, for she created no disturbance when he took one of her hands in both of his and made a little speech. It ap- r ared an interesting discourse, although she lov ..ed down and off, and all about, at every- thing except at him, smiling and changing color all the while. He seemed foolishly happy, and when a moment later he wished to assist in rearranging her hair, he was not depressed because the offer was declined with contempt. Then the young man took a few steps to- ward the wall, and stood facing the huge head whose bloodshot eyes were still upon him. As he lifted his hand there was a hitch in the motion, and a spasm of pain drew down a cor- ner of his mouth, but the girl behind him [ 182 ] ! 1 ;m ^J u X X AMOS JUDD could not see this. He raised his cap and saluted his adversary. "I thank you. Bull, for chasing me into Molly Cabot's heart" Then he turned, and hand in hand, the two people disappeared among the pines. [ 183] ii. .'1 i 1 h VIII ytCCORDING to habit, Mr. Cabot composed JTV. himself by the hbrarjr table that even- ing for an hour's reading before going to bed, but the book was soon lifted from his grasp and Molly seated herself in his lap. Although fingers were inserted between his collar and neck as a warning that the closest attention was expected, there followed a short silence before any words were uttered. Then she told him all: of being face to face with Barnard's bull; of the narrow escape; of how Amos re- mained alone in the open field, and lastly, she gave the substance of what the rescuer had said to her, and that she had promised to be his wife. But on condition that her father should consent. He received the news gravely; confessed he was not so very much surprised, although he had hoped it would come a little later. And [ 184] AMOS JUDD she was very happy to find he made no objec tion to Amos as a son-in-law, and to hear him praise his character and pronounce him an honest, manly fellow. His behavior with the bull was heroic, but did not she think the reward he demanded was exorbitant? Was it not a little greedy to ask as a price for his services the entire value of the rescued property? It certainly was not customary to snatch away the object before placing it in the owner's hands. "But he risked his life to save yours, and for that he shall have anything I own." The following morning, as she stepped upon the piazza, the doctor's buggy came down the opposite avenue and turned toward the village. Could old Mrs. Judd be ill? or was it one of the servants? An hour later, as there were still no signs of her bull-fighter she began to feel a slight annoyance. Perhaps after sleeping upon the [ 185] ; i i ; AMOS JUDD event* of yesterday his enthusiasm had cooled Perhaps his exceptionally wide experience in this field had taught him that the most deli- cate way out of such dilemmas was to give the girl the initiative, and perhaps, now that he was sure she loved him, all the fun had de- parted. Perhaps, in short, he was now realising that he had committed himself. Although none of these suspicions took a serious hold there was a biting of the nether lip and a slight flush upon the cheeks as she re-entered the house; and in order that he might not suspect, when he did come, that his delay had caused the slightest feeling, or that anyone had watched for him, she returned to her room. A few moments later a note was brought in which was received with indifference, but which, after Maggie's departure she opened with nervous fingers. [186] AMOS JUDD Ti^Y G«t: That bull, God bless him! irX smashed two of my ribs, the doctor -y, but I know better. They were broken by •n outward force, a sudden expansion of the heart, and I felt them going when you came into a pair of arms. Please come over, or I shall fly away, as I feel the sprouting of wings, and there is a crocking among the other ribs. Amos. She went, and although their conversation that morning touched upon ribs and anatomy, it would, if taken as a whole, have been of little value to a scientist It was distinctly per- sonal. The one sentiment which appeared to have an irresisUble fascination for the bull- fighter and his fiancee colored all remarks, and the fact that the dialogue would have caused them the most intense mortification if made public, tended in no degree to lessen their enjoyment. To a middle-aged person who [ 187 ] 7- u ■i AMOS JUDD had never been in love it would have been unendurable. Uter in the day she intercepted the doctor and learned as much as possible of the pa- tient's condiUon. Two ribs were badly broken, he Mid; had been pressed inwaid to a serious extent, but so far there were no indications of internal injuries. Of this, however, he could not at present be absolutely sure, but he thought there was no great cause for alarm. The patient, of course, must keep quiet for a week or two. Fortunately for Amos there proved to be no injury save the damaged ribs, but three long weeks elapsed before he was allowed to go up and down stairs and move about the house. The last day of August proved a day of dis- coveries. It was bright and warm, yet invigorating, the perfection of terrestrial weather, and Mr. Cabot and Molly, early in the afternoon, were [ 188 ] AMOS JUDD •Ittlng upon the pians discussing the date of their departure, Amos occupying his favorite place upon the floor in front of them, his back •gainst a column. When she informed her father that additional trunks or boxes of some kind would be needed, Amos said that such articles were going to waste in the Judd resi- dence, and if she would but step across the way and select a few, it would be a lasting benefit to an overcrowded attic. TUs offer was accepted and they storted off. A' 'imbing the final stairs, which were steep a..^ narrow, Molly seated hewelf upon an old-fashioned ■ettle, the back of which could be lowered and used cs an ironing table. "How I do love this sme'. of an attic! Is it the sap from the hot pine? And isn't there sage in the air, or sum- mer savory?" "Both. With a few old love-letters and a touch of dried apples." "Whatever it is, I love it. The days of my [ 189 J P I \- AMOS JUDD chUdhood come galloping back," and with upturned face she closed her eyes and drew a longer breath. He bent silenUj over and touched her lips. "What a breach of hospitality!" "When a visitor insults a host by sleeping in his presence, it is etiquette to awaken her. And when lips with those particular undulations look one pleasantly in the eye and say 'Amos, kiss us,' what do you expect to happen?" "From you I expect the worst, the most improper tiling." "And you will always get it, O spirit of old- fashioned Roses!" In opening a window he disturbed an enor- mous fly, whose buzzing filled every comer of the roof. «To me," he said, "this atmosphere recalls long marches and battles, with splendid victories and awful defeats." "I don't see why. To me it seems deUght- fiiUy restful." [ 190] AMOS JUDD From an ancient horse-hair trunk he brought forth a box, and seating himself at her feet, emptied its contents upon the floor. "This is why," and he arranged in parallel lines the little leaden soldiers, diminutive can- nons, some with wheels and some without, and a quantity of dominos, two by two. "These are troops, and if you care to know how I passed the rainy days of boyhood this will show you." "But, what are the dominos?" "They are the enemy. These lead soldiers are mine, and they are all veterans, and all brave. This is myself," and he held up a bent and battered relic on a three-legged horse. "And who are you in these fights. Goosey?" "Napoleon, generaUy; often Csesar and Frederick, and sometimes George Washington and General Lee." "But you have no head. Is n't that a draw- back for a commander?" [ m ] I « i AMOS JUDD "Not with troops like these. I lost that head at Quebec, as Montcalm." She looked down upon him with a wish that she also might have been one of those absurd little soldiers and shared his victories. "The cracks between the floor-lK>ards/' h continued, "are railroads, rivers, canals, stone walls, or mountain ranges, according to the campaign." -, "They must have been a nuisance, though. Could not a soldier disappear and not return .J*" "I should say he could! Why, those ravines are gorged with heroes, and that recalls the most humiliating event of my career. I was leading the charge of the Light Brigade, six of these cavalrymen, each representing a hun- dred men. I of course was in front, and it was a supreme moment. As we dashed across the open field — the cracks, mind you, did n't count this time — I, the leader, suddenly disappeared, head downward, feet up, in an open field! Of [ 192 ] AMOS JUDD course the charge could not stop, and the others rushed on to a magnificent death." With a sigh he gathered the motley com- pany together again, and laid them away in their box. She got up and moved about. «I should like .o live in an attic. It is mysterious and poetic, and so crammed with history-. Each of these things has its little story for some- body," andshe stopped before a curious feminine garment in India silk, of a long-ago fashion. Pointing to a quaint old cap with ear-laps, she exclaimed, "What a funny rig that is! Put it on." And she took it from its peg and placed it upon his head, then laughed and led him to a broken mirror that was hanging from a rafter. "Unless you wear it in New York next winter, I shall never many you!" "Then I promise, but at present it is a trifle warm." As he removed it a letter slipped from the lining and fell to the floor. She picked it up [ 193 ] f 1 i: I: I AMOS JUDD and turned it over in her fingers. "Why, it has never been opened! It is directed to Mr. Josiah Judd." Amos examined it, studied the date, then looked at the old cap. "He wore this at the time of his death, when he had just come from the post-office, and the Daleford postmark says December fifth, the very day before. That is very curious." And he stood looking down at the letter, deep in thought. "Why don't you open it? You are the one who should do it, I suppose." "Yes, I suppose so." "Where is it from?" "India. From Mr. Morton Judd, his brother, the one who sent me here." "Oh, yes! I remember. Is Mr. Morton Judd alive?" "No, he died ten years ago." "Well, please open it, for it may be interest- ing. Come over near the light." [ 194 ] AMOS JUDD As they stood by the open window, leaning against the sill, he tore open the envelope and began reading aloud, she looking idly out upon some haymakers in a neighboring field. Their voices came faintly to her ears, and they made a pleasant picture in the afternoon sunlight with the village spires, the tall elms, and the purple hills for a background. She wondered if India was at all like New England. "pVEAk Josiah; The case ought to reach A-^ you about a fortnight after this letter, and if you will write to Mr. Wharton, or better still, visit him, he will see that there is no trouble at the Custom House. Give my love to Sarah, but don't show her the shawl and the silks before her birthday, in January. What you say about the boy Amos does not surprise me, and I was only waiting for you to make your own discoveries. He gave clear indications when a veiy small child of this same faculty [ 195 ] -I If m • ! AMOS JUDD in which his mother and the rest of his family had great faith. In the box you will receive I send a book giving an account of the Rajah Sirdar Sing^ his ancestor, a hero of prophetic powers who died ninety-eight years ago, so this boy, according to tradition, should inherit the same supen'itural faculties. Be careful that he does not see tthis book before coming of age, as it might put dangerous ideas into his head, and if he should suspect what he really is great mischief might ensue. I am glad he is turning out such a sensible boy. But if he should ever come over here and make himself known it would cause a great disturbance, and might result fatally to himself. Am sorry to hear about Phil Bates's wife. She was a fool to marry him. Your affectionate brother, Morton Judd. Amos stood looking down at the letter and remained silent. She laid a hand upon his arm [196] If AMOS JUDD and said, "What does it mean, Amos, about not letting you know who you are? Who are you?" He looked up with a smile. "I don't kno^; I can only guess." "Well, what do you guess?" "I guess that I am the rajah of that prov- ince." "Really? Why, you don't mean it! And have you always known it?" "I don't know it now, but I have always sus- pected it." "You funny old thing! Why, this is awfully exciting! And you never told me!" "Why should I? Your father would only have hastened my departure if I had tried to pass myself off as a fairy prince ; and you would have laughed in my face." "No. I am not so sure. But that was long ago, and to-day I should believe anything you told me." [ 197 ] f (I AMOS JUDD "Well, I believe you would," and there, at the open window, he put his ann about her waist and did that unnecessary thing true lovers seem unable to resist. She jumped away to turn with an anxious face and look cau- tiously through the window. But the distant haymakers gave no signs of having received a shock. "Could they have seen?" she demanded. He looked over upon the sunlit field. "No, poor things, they missed it I" But Molly moved away and seated herself upon a venerable litUe horse-hair trunk whose bald spots w* umerous and of considerable extent Brass-headed nails, now black with age, studded all its edges and formed at each end the initials of Josiah Judd. "Tell me, little Amos, what happened to you as a child, that you should consider your- self a faify prince." The trunk was short for two, but Amos, by [ 198 ] AMOS JUDD a little pushing and crowding, managed to sit beside her. "Well, in the first place, I was always too wise and too amiable for an ordinary mor-" "No, no! Be serious." "Well, almost everything I remember seems to point in that direction. For instance, there was a separate seat for me on swell occasions, « sort of throne, I should say, and all the other people stood up. In the big hall I told you about where the fight took place, I used to sit in an ivory chair with gold ornaments on it, cocked up on a platform apart from other peo- ple. And that afternoon I was walking across the hall toward it when the fierce-looking chap with the beard caught me up and passed me along." "Gracious! This is very exciting! Go on." "I could give you this sort of stuff by the yard if the conditions were favorable. The conditions now are unfavorable." [ ^99 ] Hi AMOS JUDD Their eyes met, but experience had taught her caution. "Go on. There are no rajahs in America, and you will do as I tell you." "That is very true, but we are too far apart" "And all the while you are crowding me off this trunk!" "Yes, but at the ^me time I am holding you on. Do you see that old rocking-chair over there with one arm that is beckoning to us?" There followed a brief, illogical discussion, then finally a gentle force was used by the stronger party, and a moment kter the old chair groaned beneath a heavier burden than it had borne for thirty years. After persistent urging the reminiscences were continued. "They always helped me first at table, no matter how old the other guests were, or how many or how swell. The bowing and saluting was much more elaborate toward [ 200 ] m AMOS JUDD t" "■"' ""^ •'"* -n* in fa,„t Sh.r.1. "xmy in . «,rt of «„rty.rf ^,h .^„g, ,,^^ "., «.d I «meml„ what «, e,erU.H„g .fti, i w«, «d how my unele „,, ,„ ^ ^^^^ •tood behind my chair, while {« {« i _.^ e leet six in length, with gilt edges at the top." * She smiled sadiv "Nr« «^* saoiy. No, not a poem, but venr ordmaiy prose, and you will iref «. • ,. j-uu win get precious little wisdom from studying it." "On the contra.7,eve,y page is a revelation. Why, the binding alone is a poemf Merely M ; ) i ■^1 ! s AMOS JUDD to hold it in one's lap and look at the cover is a gentle intoxication." Wavering between a smile and a frown, she answered: "I wonder if all rajahs are such transparent flatterers. But come! Find the book! It must be downstairs in the library." "No, it is pot down there. I know every book among them." "Where can it be, then? tucked away in some trunk or drawer?" "Probably." "Could it be in that?" and she pointed to an old cherry-wood desk just behind him. He turned and regarded it. "As likely there as anywhere. It is the desk he used until he died." Molly opened the slanting top and found an array of pigeonholes filled with old papers. There were some very small drawers, all of which she opened, but they contained no [ 204 ] AMOS J U D I) book, so she closed tl e top and opened the long upper drawer. It was alraosL empty, the only contents being a few envelopes of seeds, some tools, scattered caitls, and a couple of marbles that ran about as the ditiwer was opened. "I rather think you know this place," and she lifted up a bladeless jackknife. "Only a boy could treat a knife in such a way." "Yes, I remember all those things. That wooden pistol has killed lots of Indians." The second drawer held among other things a camel's-hair shawl, a bed-cover, a pair of wo- man's slippers, a huge shell-comb elaborately carved, some black mits, and a package of let- ters; almost everything except a book. The third drawer and the fourth were equally dis- appointing. The lowest drawer was deeper and heavier, and it stuck. Amos sprang to help her, and together they pulled it open, then sat down upon the floor in front of it. The char- [ 205 ] M \] AMOS JUDD acter of its contents was much like the others, but Molly delved thoroughly among its trea- sures and she received her reward. As her hand was exploring a farther comer she looked up into his face with a look of excitement "Here is a book! It must be the one!" and a little volume was drawn forth. '"The Heroes of India!' aren't we in luck!" It was a handsome little book, with a blue morocco cover and gilt edges, published in Calcutta. Turning over the leaves with eager fingers she came to a bookmark opposite a portrait, a steel engraving, showing the head and shoulders of a bejewelled prince. "Why, it might be you! It is exactly like you! Look]" and she held it before him. "So it is, but perhaps they all are. Let's hear about him if you are sure he is our man." "Oh, I am sure of it! He is the image of you and the others are not;" and she began to read. [ 206 ] i X AMOS JUDD "Of all the royal families in India, none claim an existence more remote than that of the Maharaja Sirdar Oumra Sing. According to accepted history and tradition, this princely house not only dates back to the earliest cen- turies of Eastern history, but owes its origin to the immortal Vishn'u himself. It is a romantic story, in fact the survival of an ancient fable, poetic and supernatural, but, curiously enough, seems to be substantiated by the extraordinary attributes of a recent ruler. The Rajah Sirdar Sing, whose portrait heads this article, was perhaps the most popular hero of Northern India, and unless we reject the evidence of pll his contemporaries, was possessed of powers that brought him the most startling victories both in peace and war, and over adversaries that were considered invmcible. His kingdom, during his reign of thirty years, was nearly doubled in territory and enormously increased in wealth. In his own country to-day there [ 207 ] i 'fi wi AMOS JUDD are none who question his prophetic powers: men of science and of letters, historians, high priests, lawyers, soldiers, all firmly believe in his immortal gifts. To us Europeans, however, these tales are more difficult of acceptance. "In the very centre of Sirdar Sing's fore- head the reader may have observed a faint spot scarcely ^half an inch in diameter, and this appeared, we are told, like a scar or a bum, of a lighter color than the skin and, except under certain conditions, was barely noticeable. But the tradition runs that when exercising his prophetic faculty this little spot increased in brilliancy and almost glowed, as if of flame." "And so does yours!" and she regarded him with a look of awe. "Go ahead," he said, looking down at the book. "Let us hear the rest" [ 208 ] AMOS JUDD "The legend is this: "When Vishn'u in his Krishn'a-AvatAra, or eighth incarnation, was hard-pressed in his war against the Kurus. he received great as- sistance from Arjuna, a Pfin'd'u prince who, after a four days' battle, and at great risk tJ himself, delivered to his immortal ally the sa- cred city of DwArakl For this service and in token of his undying gratitude, Vishn'u laid his finger upon the forehead of Arjuna and en- dowea him with a knowledge of future events, also promising that once in a hundred years a' descendant should possess this priceless gift. Although we may not accept this romantic tale, there is no doubt whatever that Sirdar Sing, the original of our portrait, was guided by a knowledge of the future, either earthly or divine, which neither scientists nor histo- rians have yet explained. The next in order to inherit this extraordinary faculty, if there is truth in the legend, will be the son of the [ 209 ] ■« 111 n i AMOS JUDD present rajah, whose nuptials have just been celebrated with s ;ch lavish and magnificent festivities." She paused for a moment, then with trem- bling fingers turned back to the title-page. The book was printed twenty-eight years ago, the year before >Amos was bom. For a long time they sat on the floor talk- ing; she asking many questions and he an- swering, until the listening objects in the attic began to lose their outline and become a part of the gloom. The sunlight along the rafters dwindled to a narrow strip, then disappeared; and the voices of the haymakers were long since gone when Amos and Molly finally climbed to their feet and descended the stairs. [210] IX QEPTEMBER brought other guest,, and ^ with their arrival Amos Judd and Molly Cabot found the easy, irresponsible «,utine of their happy summer again disturbed. To his own fierce regret Amos could invent no decent pretext for escaping a visit he had p„,mised early in the summer, and a more unwilling victim never resigned himself to a week of pleasure. To the girl he was to leave behind him, he bewailed the unreasonable cruelty of his friends. "This leaving you. Soul of my Soul, is worse than death. I shall not eat while I am gone, and nights I shall sit up and curse." But at the end of a week he returned, promptly on the minute. His moments of de- pression, however, seemed mther to increase than diminish, and, although carefully re- pressed, were visible to a pair of watchful eyes. Upon his face when in repose there had [211] ii V I '1*1 I I 1 < ^ 1/ AMOS JUDD always been a melancholy look, which now seemed deepening as from an inward sorrow, too strong to conquer. This was betrayed oc- casionally by a careless speech, but to her questioning he always returned a cheerful an- swer. In spite of these heroic efforts to main- tain a joyful front, Molly was not deceived, and it was evident, even to Mr. Cabot, that the young man was either ill in '>ody or the victim of a mental disturbance that might be disas- trous in its results. Of this he was destined to have a closer knowledge thrn his daughter. It came about one Sunday morning, when the two men had climbed a neighboring hill for a view which Mr. Cabot had postponed from week to week since early June. This was his last Sunday in Daleford and his final oppor- tunity. The view was weU worth the cUmb. The day itself, such a dty as comes oftenest in September, when the clear air is tempered to [212] ^^ AMOS J UDD the exact degree for human comfort by the rays of a summer sun, was one in which the most indifferent view could shine without an effort. Below them, at the foot of the hill, lay the village of Daleford with its single street. Except the white spires of the churches, little of it could be seen, however, beneath the four rows of overhanging elms. Off to their left, a mile or two away, «,e broad Connecticut,' through its valley of elms, flowed serenely to the sea; and beyond, the changing hills took on every color from the deepest purple to a golden yellow. A green valley on their right wandered off among the woods and hills, and in it the stetely avenue of maples they both knew so weU. A sUence so absolute and so far- reaching rested upon the scene that, after a word or two of praise, the two men, from a common impulse, remained without speaking. As thus they sat under the gentle influence of a spell which neither cared to break, the notes [213 ] I |i ! AMOS JUDD of an organ came floating upward from the trees below them, and mingled with the voices of a choir. Mr. Cabot's thoughts turned at once to the friend at his side, whom he felt must exi)erience a yet deeper impression from these familiar scenes of his childhood. Turning to express this thought, he was so struck by the look upon Amds's face, an expression of such despairing melancholy, that he stopped in the middle of his sentence. While well aware that these tragic eyes were always most pathetic objects in repose, he had never seen upon a human face a clearer token of a hopeless grief. "What is it, my boy?" he asked, laying a hand upon the knee beside him. "Tell me. I may be able to help you." There was a slight hesitation and a long breath before the answer came. "I am ashamed to tell you, Mr. Cabot. I value your good opin- ion so very much that it comes hard to let you [ 2U J 3 f i AMOS JUDD know wh.t • weak and cow*rdI;r thing I have b«en, and am." "Cowarfly-that I do not believe. You may be weak; all ofus are that; in fact, it seems to be the distinguishing attribute of the human fiunUy. But out with it, whatever it is. You can trust me." "Oh, I know that, sir! If you were only less of • T«n and more hke myself, it would be easier to do it But I will tell you the whole story. By the fourth of November I shall not be alive, and I have known it for a year." Mr. Cabot turned in surprise. "Why do you think that?" But Amos went on without heeding the question. "1 knew it when I asked Molly to be my wife; and aU the time that she has gone on loving me more and more, I have known it, and done all I could to make things worse. And now, as the time approaches and I realize [ 215 J ' I J AMOS JUDD that in a few weeks she will be a broken- hearted woman— for I have learned what her affection is and how much I am to her— now I begin to see what I have done. God knows it is hard enough to die and leave her, but to die only to have played a practical joke on the girl for whom I would joyfully give a thousand lives if I had them, is too much." He arose, »and standing before her father, made a slight gesture as of surrender and resig- nation. The older man looked away toward the distant river, but said nothing. "Listen, sir, and try to believe me." Mr. Cabot raised his glance to the dark face and saw truth and an open heart in the eyes fixed solemnly upon his own; and he recognized a being transformed by a passion immeasurably stronger than himself. "When I found she loved me I could think of nothing else. Why should I not be happy for the short time I had to live? Her love was [216] AMOS JUDD more to me than any earthly thing, than any possible hereafter. Better one summer with her than to live forever and not have known her. Oh! I thought of her side of it, often and often; many a night I have done nothing else, but I could no more give her up than I could lift this hill." He paused, drew a long breath, as if at the hopelessness of words to convey his meaning, then added, very calmly: "Now I am soberer, as the end approaches, and I love her more than ever: but I will do whatever you say; anything that will make her happier. No sacrifice can be too great, and I promise you I will make it. I have often wished the bull had killed me that day, then I should have her love and respect forever; and yours too, perhaps." "You have both now, Amos. But tell me why you think you are to die by November fourth?" Amos resumed his seat upon the rock and [217 ] A r \\ )i J i it' I AMOS JUDD answered: ''Because I have seen myself lying dead on that day." "I have sometimes wondered," said Mr. Cabot, "if that temptation would not prove too strong for you." "No, sir, it was not too strong for me under ordinary circumstances, but it happened when I was not myself, when I came out of that fever hist October,) and as I lay in bed, weak and half-conscious, I felt sure my day had come. I thought the doctor was not telling me the truth, so, by looking ahead for myself, I learned more than I cared to know, and saw myself lying on a sofa in a strange room, a place I had never been into; a public building, I should think." "But why do you think it is to be the fourth of November, and this year?" "Because I looked about and saw near a window a little day calendar, and that was the date it bore. Then on a table lay a daily paper [218] AMOS JUDD of the day before, and two magazines of the same month, all of this year." "But is it not possible the room is unoccu- pied and that these things have been lying there indefinitely?" Amos shook his head. «No, sir, it is a room that is lived in. There are other papers lying about: books, and a letter on the desk waiting to be mailed. And in the fireplace the embers are still glowing." Mr. Cabot looked with the profoundest sym- pathy toward his friend, who was scaling bits of moss from the rock beside him ; then he turned again to the view and its tranquil beauty seemed a mockeiy. In the village be- low them he could see the congregation pour- ing out from a little white church like ants from a loaf of sugar. Mr. Cabot was not a re- ligious man, and at present there was nothing in his heart that could be mistaken for resig- nation. His spirit was in revolt, his pugnacity [ 219 ] f i ! AMOS JUDD aroused, and with this quality he was freely endowed Rising to his feet he stood for a moment in silence, with folded arms, fiowning upon the distant hills. "Amos," he said, finally, «in spite of bygone defeats I am inclined to resist this prophecy of yours. You were not absolutely master of your own mind at the time, and under such condi- tions nothing would be easier than to confuse your own imagining with a vision of another character. At least it is not unpossible, and if by good luck you did happen to confound one with the other we are having our panic for nothing. Moreover, even if this vision is cor- rect, it need not necessarily signify an unde- viating fulfilment in every detail. It may indi- cate the result to be expected in the natural order of events; that is, if things are allowed to take their course without obstruction or in- tervening influences. But it is difficult for me to believe this fiiculty is to continue infallible [ 220 ] AMOS JUDD through all your mental and physical develop- ments and fluctuations of faith, and never, under any possible conditions, vary a hairV breadth from the truth. It is a law of nature that a disused faculty shall weaken and lose its power, ,»nd for years you have done your best to repress and forget it" "Yes, sir, but whenever employed it has been correct." "That may be, and its day of failure st remain a probability. In this present case the prophecy, aside from its uncertain origin, is one whose fizlfilment is more easy to avert than some of the others. You say the room in which you saw yourself is one you are unfamiliar with, and consequenUy is not in Daleford." "Oh, no! There is nothing like it in this vicinity." "WeU, suppose you were to remain in Dale- ford during the critical period with two men, nominally visitors at your house, to watch you' [221 ] AMOS JUDD day and night and see that you do not escape? Or, better still, let me send you to an institu- tion in which I am a director, where you will be confined as a dangerous patient, and where escape, even if you attempted it, would be as hopeless as from a prison." Amos doubted the success of any attempt at foiling fate, or, in other words, giving the lie to a revelatidn once received, but he was will- ing to do whatever his friend desired. As they walked home they discussed the plan in detail and decided to act upon it; also to take eveiy precaution that Molly should be kept in igno- rance. The first week in October the house at the north end of the avenue was empty and the Cabots were in New York. As the end of the month approached a little tale was invented to explain the cessation for a time of Amos's visits, and early one afternoon the two men got into a cab and were driven to the out- [ 222 ] AMOS JUDD Airt. rf the oity. Thejr entered the g™„d. of . weU-km,™ imtitution, were received bv the ™perintendent «rf ,„e „ two other offi- ctal., then, .t the reqaet of the elder vidlor were .hown over the entire building and into every room of «,y .i„ <„ imporbmce. When th« inq»eti„n w« over Mr. Cabot took hi, compudon .dde "d «ked if he hrf ««, the room they «H.ght Amos shook hi, he«l "d replied that no .uch ,00m could be within the grom,d,. a few minute, Uter the young ■»« ™ .hown to . ch«nber where hi, trunk W preceded him. The two iKend, were Jone fi» . moment, „d „ they «p.„.,ed Am« gave the h«rf in hi, „™ , 5^ ^^^^ «ying: "Don't think I .m wed^ening, Mr' Cbot, but I e«mot help feeling that I have »ee„ Molly for the hst time. And if you and I never meet again, you may be ,u« my Ia,t thought, were with you both." In a cheerful tone the lawyer an^vered: «I [ 22s ] AMOS JUDD shall listen to no such sentiments. If your prophecy is correct you are to be lying in a room outside these grounds on November fourth. No such prophecy can be carried out And if the prophecy is incorrect we shall meet for several years yet So good-by, my boy. I shall be here the third." During ten days Amos was to remain under the strictest watch, to be guarded by two men at night and by two others in the day-time, and to be permitted under no conditions to leave that wing of the building. By the subor- dinate in chcirge and by the four guardians he was believed to be the victim of a suicidal mania. As the fourth of November approached Mr. Cabot's thoughts were less upon his busi- ness than with his imprisoned friend. He remembered with what inexorable force he himself had been held to the fulfihnent of a prediction. He had felt the hand of an un- swerving fate; and he had not forgotten. [ 224 ] AMOS JUDD But the fourth of November came and went with no serious results, and when the five suc- ceeding days had safely passed he experienced • reUef which he was very careful to conceal. With friendly hypocrisy he assumed a perfect confidence in the result of their course, and he was glad to see that Amos himself began to realize that anything like a Uteral fulfilment of his vision was now improbable. One week later, the hist day of dunmce, the prisoner and Mr. Cabot had an interview with Dr. Chapin in the latter's private office. Dr. Chapin, the physician in charge, an expert of distinction in mental disorders, was a man about sixty years of age, short, slight, and pale, with small eyes, a veiy large nose, and a nar- row, clean-shaven face. His physical peculiari- ties were emphasized by a complete indiffer- ence as to the shape or quality of his miment; his coat was a consummate misfit, and his trousers were baggy at the knees. Even the [ 225 ] . / AMOS JUDD spectacles, which also fitted badly, were never parallel with his eyes and constantly required an upward shove along his nose. But a profes- sional intercourse with this gentlenuui led to a conviction that his mental outfit bore no rela- tion to his apparel Mr. Cabot had known him for years, and Amos felt at once that he was in the presence of a man of unusual insight. Dr. Chapin spoke calmly and without pretension, but as one careful of his speech and who knew his facts. "That you should have made that visit against your will," he said to Mr. Cabot in an- swering a question, "is not difficult to explain as Mr. Judd unconsciously brought to bear upon your movements a force to which he himself has repeatedly yielded. If he happens to re- member, I think he will find that his thoughts were with you at that time," and he smiled pleasantly on Amos. "Yes, sir, but only as a matter of interest in [ 226 ] AMOS JUDD the novel experience I knew Mr. Cabot was going through." "Certainly, bat if you had forgotten the virit and if you believed at that moment that he was to go in another direction, Mr. Cabot would have followed the other thought with equal obedience. This unconscious control of one Intelligence over another is well established and within certain limits can be explained, but in these aflPairs science is compelled to accept a barrier beyond which we can only speculate. In this case the unusual and the most interest- ing feature is the unvarying accuracy of your visions. You have inherited something from your Eastern ancestors to which a hypothesis can be adjusted, but which is in fact beyond a scientific explanation. I should not be at all surprised to find somewhere in the city the room in which you saw yourself lying; and it is more than probable that, if unrestrained, you would have discovered it and fulfilled your [ 227 ] i I AMOS JUDD prophecy, unconsciously obedient to that Irre- •isUble force. A blow, a fall, a stroke of apo- plexy or heart disease; the sudden yielding of your weakest part under a nervous pressure, could easily bring about the completion of your picture. Some of the authenticated re- ports of corresponding cases are almost in- credible. But before you are forty, Mr. Judd, you will find in these visions a gradual diminu- tion of accuracy and also, as in this case, that their fulfilment is by no means imperative." For Amos there was immense relief in hear- ing this, especially from such a source, and he left the building with a lighter heart than he had known for months. Now that the danger was over, he wished the wedding to take place at once, but Molly would consent to no undig- nified haste. He found, however, an unexpected and influential ally in her grandmother Jouve- nal, just arrived from her home in Maryland for a month's visit, and who insisted upon the [ 228 ] AMOS JUDD wedding Uki : place while d,e w- with them. Mr.. Jouvenal wm • .lender per«,„ of .prightly »«ner., whose long life h«i been sweetly tempered by « exaggerated e.timate of the imporUnce of her own family; but in other matter, .he wa. rea«,nable and clear-headed, endowed with quick perception., a ready wit, and one of thow youthful .pirit. that never grow old. She wa. intere.ted in all that went on about her, wa. never bored and never dull. It wa. of cour«j a little diwppoinUng that a girl with .uch an ancestry a. Molly'., on her mother-, .ide, .hould give he«elf to an un- known Judd from an obscure New England village; but her fondness for Amo. «x,n con- «oled her for the m^Uiance. Molly had a strong derire to acquaint her grandmother with the ancestral facts of the case, but Amos refused to give his consent Those discoveries in the attic he insisted they mu.t keep to thenwelve., at least while he was alive. " W n [ 229 ] r ■l i: f AMOS JUDD I am transplanted I shall be beyond the reach of terrestrial snobs, and you can do as you please." The first week in December Mrs. Jouvenal was to visit her son in Boston. ''And really, my child/' she said to Molly, "it is the last wedding in the family I shall be alive to see, and with such an exotic specimen as you have selected, I shall not be sure of a Christian ceremony unless I see it myself." As her father remained neutral Molly finally yielded, and there was a wedding the first Wednesday in December. 1 ! [ 2S0 ] "T^^ ^ looJ' tired and dragged out?" LJ asked the bride of an hour as they drove to the train. "You look a little tired, a little flushed, a little ashamed, and tremendously interesting. But you may hold my hand." "I am ashamea," and she pushed the up- turned hand from her kp and looked out the window. "But, Light of my Soul, you give us away by those imbecile blushes. You might just as well thrust your head out of the carriage and cry, 'Behold the bride and groom!'" She smiled and leaned back, but stUl looked out "That's the horrid feature of a honey- moon. Everybody knows it and everybody looks at you. Is it too kte to go back and undo it?" "What a bloodcurdling thought!" [ 231 ] hi tl ■ !■ AMOS JUDD "And it should n't rain on our wedding-day, little Amos." "Of course it rains. These are the tears of countless lovers who lived before the days of Molly Cabot." But they left the rain behind them, and farther South, away down in Carolina, they found plenty of sunshine, with green grass and flowers and 'piny woods. One of their first diversions on reaching this southern country was to go out with a driver and a pair of horses, but the harvest of plea- sure was insufficient "The conversation of a honeymoon," observed the bridegroom, "is too exalted for other ears. If we talk as the spirit moves us, the coachman, unless in love him- self, may collapse from nausea: so let us be merciful and drive ourselves." Thereupon he secured a buggy with an old gray horse, and from this combination their felicity was much increased. The old horse [ 232 J AMOS JUDD they called Browser, because of the only thing he would do without being urged; and it re- quired but a single drive to develop his good points, which happened to be the very quali- ties required. He was dreamy, inattentive, never hasty, and not easily disgusted. His in- fluence was distinctly restful, and his capacity for ignoring a foolish conversation phenomenal. It was decided by his present associates that these virtues were either hereditary, or had been developed to the highest perfection by a long and tender experience. "It's my opinion," remarked the gnwm, "that being so extensively used as a nuptial horse has resulted in his reganiing honeymoon foolishness as the usual form of conversation. He probably thinks they talk that way in the courts and on the Stock Exchange." But accustomed as Browser was to cloying repetitions, there were times when his endur- ance was sorely tried. On one occasion the [ 233 ] i AMOS JUDD bride alighted from the buggy, and going a little ahead, gathered wild flowers by the road- ride; and as she returned, Amos, who was giv- ing Browser a handful of grass, raised his hat in a ceremonious manner and advanced toward her with extended hand, exclaiming: "Why, Miss Cabot! How do you do? I had no idea you were here. My name is Judd." "I beg your pardon," she replied, drawing stiffly back, "your name is not Judd, and you don't know what it is. I can never many a man who — " "Wait till you are asked," he interrupted, then threw both arms about her, and so they stood for a moment, she making no effort to escape. Brovraer blushed and turned away. In secluded comers of the vast and ramify- ing hotel piazza they spent long evenings and watched the moon, the other people, and the distant ocean, and talked, and talked, and [234] AMOS JUDD talked Of this talk no serious pen couJd write. The veiy ink would laugh or turn to sugar and nm away in shame. And when these conver- sations were finished, two weU^ssed and seemingly intelligent people would arise, and with brazen faces enter the grand rotunda of the hotel, where other guests would see them enter the elevator, float heavenward and dis- appear from human eyes. But the vexatious color stiU came and went in MoUy's face, and seemed ever ready to give the lie to the gen- tle dignity and composure which rarely de- serted her. Strolling through the gai^ens of the hotel one afternoon, they met a stately matron with her two daughters, whom Molly knew, and as they separated after the usual conversation, Amos jeered at the bride, saying; "ReaUy, old Girl, it is mortifying the way you blush upon this trip. I don't blame the blushes for selecting such a face, but you only give yourself away. It is merely another manner of [ 235 J . AMOS JUDD saying 'I know I am guilty, and just see how ashamed I ami'" "Oh, don't talk about it! It's hideous, but I can't help it Are all brides such fools?" "I don't know, I never travelled with one before, but I shall leave you behind if you keep it up. Tiy and think you have been married for twenty years. Do you suppose the daisies giggle and tjhe sun winks at the other phmets every time we look out the window? Or that it is because Molly and Amos are spliced that the carnations blush and the violets hide their faces? But I will say this for you. Spirit of Old-fashioned Roses, that all this blushing and unblushing is tremendously becoming." "Thank you; but I must paint or wear a veil, or only come out at night. There is no other way." The days went by, aU much alike, in the sunny atmosphere of an overwhelming content. In the woods they found a distant spot which [ 236 ] AMOS JUDD Uid n. cIl™ to publicity, ™d he« „p,„ ,he P-n. o»p,t With the d»w,y ™,„i„g „f ,h^ le.»e. .b.,e, they p.«^ ^^ ^^^ j_^ ^ ^ "me indifference to the flight of time. &,„«. ttoe. they b«™ght . b«,k, „ot . page of which w« ever ™d, but .«. deceit w„ „ece».,y, „ th« only wit„e»e. were occ«i„„d bi«b „d ■quiml. who« idea, .f decorun. were pAni- t. ve «d none too rtrict One birf, who seemed f wear . dreM^^ ^u, ^ ^^ ^^^ considered hi, household in d«ger .„d J quired « insolent habit of perching himself upon . bough within . dozen feet, «rf doing hfa best to sere them oiT. But .s they reap. P"«d day after day «,d respected his right, k« "ger gr«lually diminished, until at h.t he ™ied hi. rituper.ti.ns by a pecnliar song, bo* joyous and triumphant, which amused the interlopers. "I should like to know what his little feel- mgs really are," said the bride, as with a pine- [ 237 ] AMOS JUDD needle she annoyed the sensitive portions of the head reposing in her Up. The uptiuned eyes lingered for a mmnent upon the patch of blue between the pine-tops, then with a look of mild surprise turned lasily to her own. "Do you really mean to confess. Gentle Roses, that you don't know what he says?" As this speech was uttered the instrument of torture was cleverly inserted between the parted lips. "No; and perhaps I don't care to." "But listen. There! Don't you get it? He knows we are on a honeymoon and keeps re- peating, in that victorious way: "Amos has got her I Amos has got herT The bride laughed; her face bent over to the one beneath, but the bird upon the bough was not disgusted. He stood his ground and sang his song as if Love and Folly were things to be respected. [ 238 ] AMOS JUDD l"»ck. with «,™w „p„„ , r«Ung.pl.ce :'"" ""' «-» "»r knew „ ,.' ' J tr-in n«,ved .w.y d.. whi.pe«,, ..g.^.^^ noneymoon!" "«<».•» „y tut," excised An... ..I^eu, "o'donU.itfo^ver.I.Mdie.Wer.ndl expect the same of you." rk. j,r«a^ ^ Godmother J„„ve™j w« -ot&^tteo.™,. when the„.ft the t^inat • attle «.tio„ to M«yu„d . cartage w„ T"* "■*»• ^ a^y ente^d the .venue «.d«»me in sight «»' obj«,«l ..ft, .^^ •"-moiTow. chili Your Amo. ~» i yet R.„.„be, I only «„,» fc^ "-'»», .fter. two „o„th...fc„ J/"'' "nved «,ly .t the UU, «d „ ^. .„ J "Of course I wa Only n«m. „ j , ^-.«<..hU™eW«H.«.yl.e,„^^J by«ycn.pltaentnponl,i,.ppe.^. A« you vcy „„eh .ttached to tht c«. cent in your hair?" -If I were it d.ould n„ke „. ^ Voud„„-tlikeit..ndth.t..enou«V«d.he [S« J ;ll AMOS JUDD nised her hand to remove the ornament. But he interrupted the motion. "Don't take it off noWf for you have nothing to repUce it; but that it the smallest part of tlie request. The real favor is that you shall not ask me why I do it." "That is asking a good deal, but I consent. And now tell ine, how do I look? There is a wretched light in there." "You look like what you are, the joy of to-day and the rainbow of a happy morrow." "No, be serious. Is my hair in every direc- tion?" He regarded her gravely and with care. "Your hair is just right, and for general effect you are far and away the prettiest, the dain- tiest, the most highbred-looking girl within a thousand miles of this or of any other spot; and if we were alone and unobserved, I should gather you in as — " Voices close at hand caused them to turn and descend the stairs [ 242 ] AMOS JUDD with the ^etnnity of «, .„dent couple who find dignity • w,tftU aubrtitute for ihc frivoll- ties of youth. Once In the bal1-r.K, ., with U.e wild Hungarian muric «t their f.e< k, there « u, litUe repow; for two «,ch d uu-. n. \Vh. ., fh. first notes of the walti thaf Moll- iou I v... •II others, came floating Uucm^I. Cu- hall, Amoi cut in before a youth who was )^h.U uj? toward the bride and swung her out .cros. the floor. A. they ghded away with the music that was stirring in her heart old memories of what •eemed a previous existence, she heard at her ear «Do you remember when first we waltaed? How you did snub me! But life began that night" Instead of returning at eleven o'clock, they returned at two in the morning. By Amos's request it had been arranged that no servant should sit up for them, but when they entered the hall and found it dark Molly expressed surprise that not a single light should have [ 243 ] AMOS JUDD been left burning. They easUy found the matches, however, and lighted a candle. Amos had just learned from the coachman that a let- ter ready at six in the morning would go by an early train, so Molly showed him a little desk of her grandmother's in the dining-room, and then left him to his writing. Passing through the hall toward the stairs she hap- pened to look into a sitting-room, and beyond it, through a corridor, saw a portion of the big library where the moonlight fell upon a marble bust She paused, then returning to the door of the dining-room, asked, "How long shall you be at that letter, little prince?" "Not five minutes." "Then come into the library and see it in the moonlight You will find a giri there who is interested in you." "All right. That giri will not wait long." Alt'nough familiar with the old library, [ 244 ] AMOS JUDD MoUy was impressed anew by its sUtely p«,. portions as she entered from the httle corridor. The spacious room was now flooded by the moonlight that streamed through the high windows at the farther end and brought out, in ghostly relief, the white Ionic columns' •gainst the encircling wall. Between them, m vaiying shapes and sizes, hung the family por- traits, and in front of ever,r column stood a pedestal with its marble bust At the present moment the pallid face of Dante caught the moonbeams, and seemed to follow her with solemn eyes. As she swept with a rustle of silk along the huge, round, crimson carpet, she re- membered how deeply she had been impressed in former years by the knowledge that it was made in England expressly for this nK>m. The perfect stillness was broken only by herself as she moved out into the wide circle of mysteri- ous faces. At her right, between two of the columns, [245] AMOS JUDD in a lofty mirror that filled the space from floor to cornice, marched her own reflection. She stopped, and regarded it With her white dress and the moonlight upon her head and shoul- ders, it was a striking figure and recalled the night, a year ago, when she stood at the win- dow of her chamber, and tried in vain to dis- cover why such a vision should have startled Mr. Amos Judd. Mr. Amos Judd! How she hated him that night! Hated him! the dear, lovely, old, perfect Amos! She smiled, and beat time with a foot, humming a fragment of that bewitching waltz. And the crescent that he had asked her not to wear again, flashed back at her from the mirror. She would remove it now, upon the instant, and never more, not even to-night, should the dear boy be troubled by it As her fingers touched the jewels she saw something in the mirror that sent the blood from her heart, and caused the hand to drop convulsively to her breast Behind her, [ 246 ] AMOS JUDD •cross the room, in the shadow of a pedestal, were glistening two other things that moved like . pair of human eyes. With an involuntary «y she wheeled about, and before she could turn again at a sudden movement behind her, *n arm was thrown about her waist, strong fingers clutched her throat and in her ear came a muttered warning: «Be quiet, lady, or it's up with yer!" But the cry had reached Amos in the dis- tant dining-room, and she heard his footsteps hurrying across the hall. The fingers tightened at her throat; she was pushed with violence into the shadow of the nearest column, and held there. Gasping, stranghng, she seized in- stinctively with both hands the wrist that was squeezing the life from her body, but her feeble fingers against such a strength were as nothing. Pressing close upon her she saw the dim outline of a cap upon tne back of a head, a big neck, and a heavy chin. With bursting [247 J AMOS JUDD throbs the blood beat through her head and eyes, and she would have sunk to the floor but for the hands that held her with an iron force. In this torture of suffocation came a blur, but through it she saw Amos spring into the room, then stop for a second as if to find his bearings. "Moll," he said, in a half-whisper. There was no answer. Fainting, powerless even to make an effort, she saw the man be- fore her raise a revolver with his other hand, and take deliberate aim at the broad, white shirt-front, an easy target in the surrounding gloom. In an agony of despair she made a frenzied effort, struck up the weapon as the shot was fired, and sent the bullet high above its mark, through the waistcoat of a colonial governor. The next instant the fingers were torn from her throat, and as she sank half-fainting to her knees, the two men in a savage tussle [248] AMOS JUDD swayed out into the room, then back with such force agahist a pedestal that it tottered, and with its heavy bust came crashing to the floor. The struggling figures also fell. The burglar was beneath, and as he landed, his wea|)on was knocked from his hand. With a blow and a sudden twist Amos wrenched away, picked up the pistol, turned upon his swiftly rising foe, and sent a bullet through his skull. With- out a sound the man sank back again to the floor. "Are you hurt, Moll?" was the first ques- tion as Amos took a step toward the white, crouching figure. Her bare arm shot out into the moonlight and a finger pointed across the library. "There 's another! look out!" The second man, m his stocking feet like his comrade, had crept from his hiding place, and as she pointed he swung up his pistol and pulled the trigger. But Amos was quicker. Shots in rapid succession echoed through the [ 249 J AMOS JUDD house, two, three, perhaps half « do«jn, she never knew; but she saw to her joy, that Amos at the end of it aU was still standing, while the burglar, with a smothered malediction, tumbled heavily into an easy chair behind him, slid out of it to his knees, and pitched forward on his face. There was a convulsive twitching of the legs, and aU was stiU again. Beneath him lay a bag into which, a few moments be- fore, had beea stuffed the ancestral silver. As she climbed painfully to her feet, grasp- ing with tremulous fingers a chair at her side, she saw Amos turn about, and with wavering steps, approach the column between the win- dows where, in the full light of the moon, hung a little calendar, and on it Nov. 4 He uttered no sound, but his head drooped and he staggered back. Reeling against a low divan he feU his length upon it, and lay with [ 250 ] t'f AMOS JUDD upturned face, motionless as the two men upon • the floor. MoUy hastened to his side and bent over him with an anxious question. In the full nys of the moon her head and neck with the white dress were almost luminous against the dim recesses of the room behind; and his eyes rested with a da«ed, half-frightened look on the diamond crescent, then fell to her face, and up again to the jewels in her hair. With an effort he laid a hand upon her shoulder and answered, with a feeble smile, "The end has come, my Moll." "No, no. Don't say that! I '11 send for the doctor and have him here at once!" But the hand restrained her. "It's of no use. The ball went here, through the chest." "But, darling, your life may depend upon it! You don't know." "Yes— I do know. My own death, with you bending over me in the moonlight— in this [ 251 ] AMOS JUDD room— I saw before we ever met The same vision again— when you stood before me in the conservatory, was what- startled me- that night, a year aga" He spoke with difficulty, in a failing tone. There followed broken words; from the face against his own tears fell upon his cheek, and she murmured, "Take me with you, Amos." «No-not that;" then slowly, in a voice growing fainter with each won!, "but there is no Heaven without you, Spirit-of Old-fash- ioned-Roses." A genUe pressure from the fingers that held her own, and in the moonlight lay a peaceful face where a snule stiU lingered on the lips. D. B. Updike, The MerrymouHt Preu, Boston