CIHM
Microfiche
Series
(■Monographs)

ICMH

Collection de
microfiches
(monographles)

Canadian Instituta for Hiatorical Microraproductiona / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductiona hiatoriquaa

[

Technical and Bibliographic Notts / NotM tachniquts et bibliographiquas

The Institute has attempted to obtain the bast original
copy available for filming. Features of this copy which
may be bibliographically unique, which may altor any
of the images in the reproduction, or which may
significantly change the usual method of filming, are
checked below.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagAe

Covers restored and/or lamintitad/
Couverture rastaurie et/ou pviliculte

□ Cover title missing/
Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes giographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or Mack}/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que Meue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Relie avec d'autres documents

□ Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reliure serrte peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distorsion le long de la marge interieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may appear
within the text. Whenever possible, these have
been omitted from filming/
II ra peut que certaines pages blanches ajouttes
tors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela ttait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas M filmtes.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires supplimentaires:

L'Institut a microfilmi le meilleur exemplaire qu'il
lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details de cet
exemplaire qui sont peut-itre uniques du point de vue
bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image
reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger une modification
dans la methode normals de f ilmage sont indiquis
ci-dessoui.

□ Coloured pages/
Pages tie couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommagees

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restauries et/ou pclliculfes

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages dteolories. tachetees ou piquees

□ Pages detached/
Pages ditachies

0Showth rough/
Transparence

□ Quality of print varies/
Qualite in^le de I'impression

□ Continuous pagination/
Pagination continue

□ Includes index(es)/
Comprend un (des) index

Title on header taken from: /
Le titre de I'en-tfte proviert:

□ Title page of issue/
Page de titre de la livraison

□ Caption of issue/
Titre de depart de la

depart de la livraison

if
Gcnerkiue (piriodiques) de la livraison

□ Masthead/
Gene

This jtem is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est f ilm« au taux de reduction indiqui ci-dessous.

!«SA

tsx

12X

16X

20X

22X

26 X

30X

24X

28X

22X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Simon Fraier University
Library

L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grice h la
gAnirosit* de:

Simon Prater University
Library

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol -h^ (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les images suivantes ont 6X6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetd de l'exemplaire fiim«, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim6e sont filmfo en commen^ant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmis en commenpant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparsftra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole y signifie "FIN".

Les cartes, planches, tableeux, etc., peuvent Atre
film«s a des taux de reduction diffirents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre
reproduit en un seul clichA, il est f ilm« A partir
de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche h droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'imagss nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mAthode.

MlCroCOW RESOLUTION TiST CHART

(ANSI and ISO TESf CHART No. 2)

:S /APPLIED IIVHGE I

1653 East Main Street
Rochester, New York 14609
(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone
(716) 288-5989 -Fax

USA

■■ i

. t

SAINTS, SINNERS

AND

QUEER PEOPLE

•Rovelettes mt> Sbort Stories

MARIE EDITH BEYNON

NEW YORK
AUTHORS' PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION

6^ Fifth Avenue

t ' t

COPYRIOHTKD, 1897,
BY

MARIE EDITH BEYNON,

iTlUfi^vl' ""^^.^ ^^ ^^"«^t«' «"^» o( tears.
Of bubbles, rainbow tinted ere tliey break

And feel in every pulse, life's keen delight
Our tatening souls, meanwhile.Ttet t Itch
The commou rhythu., w^e^ ^^^ the wT^^ki^

I dedicate any fi..t book to my hnsband. whose appm^iative
encou..ag , of my small literary talent, is a strong stimj
lus to Its deyelopment.-MABiB Edith Bevnon.

SAINTS, SINNEKS AND QUEEEf EOPIE.

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

CHAPTER I.

It w^ a small frame church with gable front
and arch.„g roof, standing alone on the prairie
except for a few wooden buildings straggling t^
the right a,,d left. The evening se.;L la^
nearly ended and the warm summer dusl, heavy
with the perfume of wild roses, was creeping
through the aisles enfolding the bowed figure!
Pf the congregation, as the minister offered up
iiie closing prayer.

He was a delicate looking man, slight, youth-
fuUnd of medium height,his countentnc; "sick-
lied o er with the pale cast of thought," and his
voice, which was a clear treble like that of a
woman, rose and fell upon the solemn hush like
the plaintive inflections of an ^olian harp,
bi.aU.ed upon by the winds of a celestial clime

'ather, whose ioye and mercy are

6 SAINTS, SiNNSnS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

freely bestowed like the clew of heaven upon
every living creature, look upon us now as we
kneel before Tliee. We acknowledge our mani-
fold transgressions and hardness of heart. We
piay that Thou wilt give us the spirit of ten-
derness and divine comptission for all who are
in the throes of sin and suffering. Help us to
feel one another's needs and bear one another's
burdens that we may be joined together as
membei-s of one body, serving and glorifying
Thee. Inspire us to go forth in Thy nanre on a
mission of love to raise the fallen, cheer the
• desolate and pour the oil of joy into. hearts that
mourn. May we be meek and lowly, gentle and
forgiving, always endeavoring to reflect in our
lives the mind of the Master."

As the simple, pleading prayer continued, a
man sitting in one of the front pews, fidgetted
uneasily, and finally uncovered his face which
had been devoutly hidden in his hands, and sa,t
bolt upright. He was past middle age and of
uncouth aspect. His rugged face was deeply
lined, and his shaggy eyebrows almost met
above small piercing browii eyes that had a
sinister expression.

When the last worshipper had gone out and

the minister stepped down from the pulpit, this

man with a slouching gait mr}^. his way along

4he aisle and joined the little knot of people

^if APOSTLM OP HATH. 7

xvho had lingered I«l,i„d t„ shake hands. He
wa. a fama,a,. %„,,, eve.y one seemed to k„o^

"Evenin' Hewson,"said the men with a bob
of the,.- heads. « How's the missus ■>"

gruffly, "and I'm glad of it, it ,vill keep her
away from that whining class-meeting."

_The men laughed, though somewhat constmin-
fl!r< /';:'« «°'»'"only remarked among them

and tha apart from his vindictive spirit he
wasn't a bad-hearted old fellow.' But hf 1 ',
attempts at ],„mor were not always well r,.
ceived, I,cy savored too much of vulgarity.

sholet''''^'^''^'"''"^'^^^»™''-'^-t'>e
olu. t friendliness. "The hotel is a poor place

a bone. My woman isn't well, but my daughter
Kate IS as spry as ever, and we'll manage to make
you comfortable." *

The informal invitation was accepted, and
fte two men walked along together in the gather- "

Step and clerical dignity of mien, the older one
w.th low, slipshod movement. ITiey exchanged

casual remarta on "'"i; ^ • - ^

. .-_-„_s on ^xvcixiaij lupics. It was the

8 SAiNTS, StKK^nS AND QTTEETl PmPLE.

reverend" ge^itleman's first visit to the town ;
he had come to supply for one Sunday a vacancy
in the pastorate, and his mind was full of the
vague impressions which were always stirred in
him by contact with new people.

"How is the church spiritually?" he asked.
"While I was preaching I was unpleasantly
struck with tl^e unresponsiveness of the congrega-
tion. A speaker soon learns to know intuitively
the minds of his hearei-s."

" I guess the people are all right," said
Hewson gruffly, "but you are all wrong, if
you'll excuse plain speaking. We don't want,
milk-and-water sermons about love and charity.
We want something that will knock the wind
out of God-forsaken sinners and let them see
how abominable they are in the sight of man as
well as God."

"Eh? what's that," asked the preacher,
coming as suddenly out of the warm glow of
spiritual exaltation as if he had received a cold
shower-bath.

" This ,whining about mercy and fo'rgiveness
to our fellow-men is all a sham. If we were
angels we could live like angels, but we are
here on earth, and we've got to fight for our
rights if we expect to have any. ' An eye . for
an eye and a tooth for a tooth,' that's my doc-
trine, and I live up to it. The Hewsons are

AH APOSTlE OP BATE.
It hot for their enemies. The man who iniures

the XS""'™* *" """'^ ^""t '^^ for

The preacher turning to look at this man who

had suddenly, to his mind, assumed the "h!™

ofa^mo„ster,saw his e,e glisten with mZ
qu'i'eUy!^""* "ember of the church?" heasked
"I am, and then again I'm not. My name

I aon t sit at the communion-table or attend
class-meetings. I dmw the line there."
_rou experienced a change of heart ? "
^ '•on ' know just what you mean by that
I stopped drinking and swearing, that is, We^:

faTe ZZr"""':'' """^ *""«'» "SU about

charactei. I owe no man anything, neither

noney norgrudges. I pay them all off n qS

time and with interest." "i qmci

They had reached the house by this time, and

Kate Hewson, a large, well-built girl with rosy

cheeks, met them at the door. , *"«» «»y

as 's'.f^?'^?'' '■77'""'' ''°''''" *« '^^ "n^^iously

as she ushered them into the dimly-lighted par

lor, with ita stiff l.«ir»i,,.- t- ■. ^ - P"

i.Bii-^iotu lurnuure and dried

10 SAINTS, SINNEHS and QUilEli PEOPLE.

grasses in vases. "I'm afraid she'll not get
better unless there is a change soon."

" Nonsense," said her futlier, as he hung his hat
on a peg in the hall. " There's more life and grit
in your mother than there is in you. She's good
for twenty years yet. If she would stop worry-
ing she would be all right. Women are queer,"
turning to the preacher, who had found a chair
for himself and was rubbing his white hands
together in a nervous, preoccupied manner. " If
they can't get up any conscientious qualms on
their own account, they fret about the wrong-
doings of other people. Whenever my woman
gets sick, she takes it into her head that I'm in
danger of losing my soul. She calls me to her
bedside and says, * John, it grieves me that you
are-sohaid and cruel, don't you think you could
learn to forgive ? '"

" A blessed lesson to learn, and one which the
good Master taught," murmured the minister.

" And I say to her,'' continued Mr. Hewson,
chuckling, * Tut,. Mary, you've lived with me
long enough to know that it isn't in my nature
to forgive. As long as I get tlie better of my
enemies, and come out on top every time, what's
the use of worrying ? You ought to be proud of
our family spunk. It's a fine grade, I can tell
you. A 1 hard.' Is the table set for lunch,
Kate ? That's right. Come along, Mr. Ingram.

AN APOSTLE OF HA TE. j i

A man can't talk at the rate you did tomVl.fc
without needing something to sustain liis inner
man."

They sat down at the table, and Mr. Hewson
served his guest with ham and brown bread,
while Kate poured the tea. The liost continued
to talk at a lively pace, but the preUcher was
singularly silent. He was puzzled to know how
to address a person whose spiritual state was
such an enigma, and whose standards of right
aving showed such a mixture of pharisaical
complacency, ignorance, and cruelty. Undoubt-
edly It was a fine opportunity for scriptural ex-
hortation, but how can tlielightpenetrate where
the windows are darkened ? It is hard to open
the eyes of a self-blinded man. Moreover, the
simple earnest nature of the preacher, free from
those hidden reserves of evil which feed like a
vulture upon the moral sensibilities, was repelled
by this accidental glimpse of something beyond
Its own depth. He was mild, unobtrusive, and
harmless. He didn't know how enemies were
made, having been in the ministry only a short
time and not having had occasion to oppose any
popular, social, or legislative enterprise.

But he was well grounded on the Biblical
view of the question, and if necessary could and
would quote certain forcible passages and follow
them up with a few explanatory remarks, as h^

12 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEICIi PEOPLE.

did in hia sermons. He hoped it would not be
iiecessaiy, and tliat his host would spare him any
f uither revelations of an intimate nature. With
innate delicacy he shrank from unpleasant dis-
closures, for the life of a father confessor had
for him the distracting torture of a scries of
nightmares.

To avoid a continuation of Mr. Hewsoii's ego-
tistical confidences, he ventured cautiously upon
a stream of small talk, not unmindful the while
of his ministerial responsibility and the fact
that it was the Sabbath. He commented favor-
ably on the weather, praised the cake and brown
bread and the quality of the preserved peaches,
and questioned Miss Hewson as to the social
habits of the young people of the place.

When the meal was over the old man went
into the next room to inquire into his wife's
condition.

" Grumbling as usual," he said as he shambled
out again, «and struggling mightily for my
soul's salvation, as if I'm not as good as the best
of folks. I don't set up to be one of the meek
saints, no, sir; meekness is the kind of thing
that makes a man lie down and lick the dust
while his enemies jump on him with both feet.
It's the other way with me. I do the jumping,
and when I get my feet on a man he knows it.
J can piake him writhe in his misery like ^"

Ay APOSTLE OF HATE. ig

" Would your wife care to talk with mo ? "
asked tI,o minister, tin.iclly intonupting l.im.
Sometimes when one is i„ mental distress a
word of prayer "

" She'll not see you to-night, Parson, though
she wante to badly enough. iVe given ifor
ordei« to compose her mind like a sensible
woman and go to sleep. In the morning you
n.ay talk to her if you like, though I Luce
that men of your cloth don't have a cheering
effect on her Kate, go to your n,other and
make her comfortable for the night."

The girl ro.se promptly and°lcft the room.
Mr. Ingram had a sudden sense of chill and on-
pression as he saw her go. He did not relisl^
the p,.ospect of a tSte^-tSte with his host, and
had It n, Ins nnnd to say that he was tired and

settled this little matter to suit himself.

" rued out, Pai^on ? I see you yawninir
Never mind, you may sleep all moving. Yof;

e"L niV" ''" '"° ^'- «• «y-'venoob.
jection, 111 have a smoke for a few minutes.

Ihere are some books on the table there, you

may find one to interest you. When I've fin-

.shed my pipe, I'll tell you something of my

e:S«'''""'^^'"^'^'^''^^" <'"-*''''
He filled his pipe, lighted it, and smoked fo,-

14 SAINTS, SIN.yEUSi AND QUEEIi PEOPLE.

some (Inie in silence, his coujitenaiice gradually
as;muiino a lowering and crafty expression, in
which every vest -o of gruff kind.inesa was
swallowed up.

The minister took up one book after another,
but could not concentrate liis attention on any
of them.

Finally' Mr. Hewson laid down his pipe,
crossed his legs, and sat back into the depths of
his chair.

" EVer hear of Dr. Grayson ? " ho asked, with
a suddenness which caused the other to start
involuntarily, before he replied that, to the best
of his knowledge, he had ' never met that gentle-
man or heard his name.'

" Well, sir, he wa.s a d n villain ! "

The minister sprang from his seat as if he
had received a smart blow in the region of his
Iieart.

" My brother, you forget yourself," he said,
laying a hand on the old man's arm. « I cannot '
listen to such words. Consider, I beg of you,
the impropriety "

" Pooh, man ! Where were you ri'md, tliat
you can't hear a littl-; strong languacr^ ' '^^'^ 'ut
jurtiping out of your boots? You u Lnd mat
word in the Bible a hundred times, and you read
it to your congregation without giving or taking
offence. Well, well, words are of small account j

AN Al'o; TLE OF n4TW,

they can't alter facts, nor make a man worse or
better. But, between you and me," lie bent
forward and fixed his baleful, glittering eyes on
the nunister, "he was a lying scoundrel, and he
de, (.rved to have his life turned into a hell on
earth. That's what happened to him. Might
as well try to stop the sun in its course as try
to avert the revenge of a Hewson."

Mr. Ingram stood up and said nervously •
"If you will excuse me, I think I will go to my

room, I am somewhat fatigued and "

" And scared, eh ? Not used to the talk of a
man who is honest enough to call a spade a
spade, and a liar a liar. Sit down, man. I
asked you hero on pujpose to have a chat with
you. We don't have new parsons eveiy Sunday
in the year, and I irke your quiet way of listen-
ing without saying much. What I've got to
tell is a true story, and I don't think it will do
you any harm to hear it."

Mr. Ingram unwillingly resigned himself to
the inevitable, with an unspoken prayer in his
heart that the man before, him would at least
have enough regard for the clerical sensitive-
ness to refrain from sacrilegious exclamations.

"Well, to go backtothebeguuiing,Dr. Gray-
son attej.ded my father in his last illness. That •
was nearly twc.ty years ago. My father died.
bhortly afte^' hp was buried the doctor sent i«

16 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEEIt PEOPLE,

his bill to me. It was about fifty dollars lamer
than It should have been and I intended to
make him knock something off it before I paid
It, which I was in no hurry to do. I was
bothered about business at the time, and he
could affojd to wait for his money. He sent
me another dun, demanding that tl/e amount-be
paid at once as he was in financial difficulty
It cauglit me at the wrong time and I told him
that he Wasn't the only man in financial diffi-
culty and he could wait, or do the other
thing.

" Months went by and I was thinking of making
some settlement with him when I got a com-
munication from Iiis lawyef informing me that
the doctor was entering an action, suing me
for the money. Well, sir, I was hot over it, I
can tell you; all the Hewson pride and spunk
rose up in arms, and I was ready to fight till I
dropped dead if necessary. I told him he could

sue and go to h ,but he wouldn't get a d

cent out of me, for I was going to protest Hut
bill and make some revelations into the bargain
that would settle him for a long time to come!
He and my fatlier had disagreed about some
trifling matter a few days before the end, and
I had overheard the doctor retort sharply I
put two and two together as lawyers do when
they make out a case, and in a few days I had

A N APOSTLE OF HA TE. 17

sufficient circumstantial evidence to warrant
me m accusing the doctor of murder."

" Oh, this is terrible ! " interrupted the
pi^acher. " I cannot listen. How could you be
so vindictive, so cruel and wicked ! You could
not believe that lie had committed the act^"

"No, certainly not, and I knew that no lurv
would bring a verdict against him. But it
answered my purpose to throw the slur of sus-
picion on him. That will do more to break a
man s spirit and crush the hope in him, than if
he were convicted of crime and made to suffer
lor It. Yes, sir, it's slow torture. I wouldn't
have done anything to injure him if he hadn't
been so high-handed and uppish and circulated
mean reports about me which were likely to
affect my credit. But when I saw how things
wei^ going I set my teeth and said to myself.
If Its a quarrel he wants he will get more than
iie expects, for a He wson never fails to pay debts
of that kind with interest-exorbitant'interest
I openly accused him of the murder of my
father. All the newspapers got hold of it
and there was a tremendous sensation. I ear-
ned the case to the criminal court. The Crown
prosecuted, so it didn't cost me much. The

2trrr" "'' ^«"^l"«iv-' ^"t it was suffi-
cier t to throw reproach on the character of the
doctor, and shake people's fuith in him. ...a

2 " 7 •r-«\t

18 SAIWTS, SUViv^jrif^ ^, *

">y father's room of ., K Z "' «''scovery in
«'e doctor's uZ It ^ "^ ™'"'='"« ^-'th
-agination, ^ZlZ::^"' ^'t^' "P-
Po.ao„ that less thau a Zo "r'"'^''"'"^'^
a man outright. ^ °' " would till

" The counsel for (ho A^e

a'g«mentthat noZuZTZ"" ^"^ ^'"''"'J '^e
"nmistakable proof of h""" ^'"'"''"<«'ve such

^ wore reasonable to .1 "*' ""'' '' w<">W
h"" been pu-pos"; pon^r /''',' "'^ "«'-"
m order to blaokmaiUh!7. '" "'* "^dieine

^"tthe\;i:nrt:d\^sr''''^^'^'''-''ff.

doctor twenty thouLK * "'"' " "»«' «'«
««"• Yes, sirl T^venl « " '" *^'''"' •"•»-
Peated the old „,a„ wi?h « ""•'"r' ''°"™'" ''e-
glee, which gave ^"^""""'"'■Pl'ant, malicious

*3torti„„,rd^':S;iSe features a horribt
a sweet morsel i„ hi, mof t I '^ "" '^ '" '>«'d

" That was sometl'l,?,. ««»"»ued :

°^a'.undreda„:,1f;^,X,?l'''»-»bi.,
paid bim better to hav. „ •! ,' ^' '"""'d have
and kept a civil tonte ;:;,'*" "I ^""venieuce '

fpol. never grow wisf^A: ^J!^' ,^"' -™«
h'3 property to rake up enoutb ^'" "''''" ""
>>'» lawyers, and when it ".?? ?"'{ *" ^

'"' "" over he came

pl^ely I H. business, reputation, and .on^y

" His health, too, had suffered Wp
more worried on his wif.'. ® ^^^^

himself, so peop.: i. ^ Wn't'bl'"" '"'
ned more than three yeJm ZTt, \ ? T"
troubles dreadfully to Tal^ G \ '^/'

sense enough to keep out nf'n.'^f" '""'"''
sleeping do^s I.V ,ff ?,, "^' ""«'" ""d '«'

do^. VaCen^^ort'^f ""'''"'
neighbor's house without "i*'/*^' *" "
his mean, shabby figure skuTkW^ f ^ T "^

on a man, I take it Tf l t ) «"«P^cion
an ounce of superfluous flesh on him. Tde-

rlT.l

i^O SAINTS, SWvPjtd AXri. .

tested the sight of hiin • T

w^ugtj """"fS-^y"" tor the evilyou have

like a thi.«t ;„.. XL'' f 7« «" " ".a,.
W-npI., but it had „^sa«sfle/r / "" "^
revenge. The reven J iMf 1 ^ '"'■' ^°''

could not forego, „r;„ttr",T.r"''"^'
apolog.es that could be invented I H T^'"
had gone down on his kneer^ r '"" "^
have forgiven him." *° "^ ^ """"W "ot

the'":irte:rir"*^«'i'"''-.".«u™ured
wh;?yhSi"::f~;'ow it was. or

he stood before LaZr' , ' '"""^ """ ««
• In him, knowinT'irl *'" ""'"' '='"">&«

SereSn:iT;r'^-^^^^^^^^^^^^

a mm aloud, and dragged him bodily

111

B walked
3et him,
ys tuiji-
auty of
tppetite.
ickened
street,
lie said

u have

u ever
a man
311 my
re for
ling I
raven
' man
d not

lured

s, or

tt as

mge

)uld

liim

•uld

lily

An APOSTLE OF ItATJE.

through the dirt of the streets. Not because
of his persistence about that petty account,
that was a trifle not wortli mentioning, but it
was the fact that he had set himself in opposi-
tion against me, and that by his manner he had
dared me to do my worst. He had been too
proud CO abase himself before a Hewson, and he
got his just deserts.

" When he spoke to me that day in his weak,
suffering voice, looking at me with the eyes of
a woman in the throes of childbirth, all the
ferocity of my nature was let loose like a cage
full of wild beasts, and I turned on him like a
tiger.

" * You sneaking whelp,' I said savagely, ' I
don't care for your forgiveness nor God's either.
I'm not done with you yet. I'll follow you to
Hell.'"

" Stop I " said the preacher, throwing out his
liands and rising unsteadily. "I can hear no
more. My nerves are unstrung. I must beg
leave to retire."

"Hold on a minute, Pai-son. There isn't
much more to tell, but I've kept the best for
the last. I made inquiries into the previous
history of Doctor Grayson and his wife, and
accidentally made some discoveries that were
useful to me. I visited the place where they
had lived before coming to our town, and I

22 SAtyrs, stififEUt itr^

learned that their ch,l,l » i ,
out of wedlock. i.e „1 J;;?'''^'-' ^"^ bom
till the younff moth!. ^ '^"'"'"'•■''^^Plaoe
confinement"^ "other was recovering from her

'•oped to live a^"^;;/4r^^^^^^^
•«ppened, supposin/the r, ^, , ^'' "''^«''

the wiser. B„t they didn^t . "'""'^ ^ ""»«
"bint, of runnin^'itt alt "nlf 7'^-
of an angry Hfewson. That ,ff '''"P*

stock in tmde for me it i? '^ ™'' ^'"^h

again and Imadelreal ! ,"'/ "'' "' •"■«"'««»
son, feeling l^^lTropS f '^ ""r. «™^-
tion to the mi-ifo-t f •* disgraced in addi-

^-bandXr^rdd :; t "'•n'r "-

made her half as miseiJ.u fV ' '"■• ^ '""""'t

her life went o„t"ke rtt ,1^"^' '" '^'"''^
she was a sensitive !n ^ "^ " """die ;

sand in her and cl^^ "'"""'•^' '""d-'-t any

in. her. Cligt^S'l^"? '" ^"""-
hausted,and he ,W i * '^ . ''"" '""« ex-
slid out of 1 Avorid •- ^^ "' '^"■^""■"^ «»d

"Condem:St?''rr''{;-f,<'iesr?
wore for escaping me 'l , v, '' ^"" "'«

coward, to sneak off X. the r '" '"''"'""'
-"•"otforhim. xiKr-.-;^^

Al^ APOSfL^ OF £tAm 23

pleased if lie had lived and suffered, knowing
himself to be completely at my mercy."
^ " Where is tlie little girl ? " asked the preacher
in a dull, mechanical voice.

" Yes, where (8 she ? " reiterated the old man
sliarply, the glitter of an unquenched malignity
burning more fiercely in his eyes. " Tliat is the
question I should like to have answered. No
one IS more interested in her whereabouts than
I, John Hewson. I have advertised for infor-
mation of one Nellie Grayson, daughter of the
ate Doctor Robert Graysoii. But I cannot find
her. A stranger came and took her away after
her father died. She Avas three years old then,
and must be about twenty-three now if she is
living. Ah ! I should like well to see the
young woman, illegitimate child of the most con-
temptible scoundrel I ever knew; my enemy's
daughter, the last and only surviving human
being, to my knowledge, who beai-s his name.

*' I hope to find her before I die, and when I
do he smacked his thin lips with renewed relish
of the invisible morsel, " when i do, God help her,
she 11 not have her sorrows to look for. I tell
you, sire, when old John Hewson is laid in his
grave, he'll have had the consolation of knowing
that not many of his enemies are left above
ground to gloat over his death! I drive them
all there ahead of me with f.lm wh,v ^f u^^ „

24 SAINTS, Simsns AXb QUEER PEOPLK
The young minister bowed liis pale face in his

mnc^^,d trembled in agony of mind. "Wh
could he say to open the eyes of this man's un-
de.-standn,g, and let in the full light of divine

evel:.t.o„ upon a darkened soul which had ne^r
warmed to a glimmer of God's truth' "

conditon, he sa.d earnestly, striving to over-

I cannot .magmo^ any right-minded pereon find-
;ng pleasure m the deliberate infliction of suifer-
mg upon any creature however bitter an enemy,
iiut the punishments you mete out with such
avengeful spirit are out of all proportion to
their causes, and therefore the more deserving of
condemnation. I do not know how you 1„
justify yourself to your own conscience; if^
deed you have any. Such a eoui^e as you have
pui-sned wouhl naturally stunt and benumb yZ
nioi^l sensibilities, so that in a short time your
wr-ongKioing would give you no discomfort."

HO ho! So you are launching into a sermon
rZ Tf;:'''fT"' You can't come tC:
like water off a duck's back."
" The thing that touches me most keenly and

of lehgion, while you are cherishing this sinful
desire for revenge, and furthering your wicked

An apostle of Hate. 26

purposes. This is base hypocrisy, and you must
know it to be so. Creeds and dogmas matter
very little, but the spirit of religion is the same
all the world over, and it has only one meaning,
love to God and our neighbor. Hate, for any
reason whatever, can have no part in it. It is '
a noxious, soul-destroying root of evil ; its fruit
IS as bitter as the waters of Marah ; and the man
who takes it on his lips, till habit engendei-s
a morbid appetite, will eat it to his own eternal
destruction.

" The longer I live the more I am convinced
. that theological doctrine is a small part of our '
religion, which, when simplified, means the mind
of the Master reflected in Imman lives— God
breathing in us, and working through us. But
if we are filled with malice and hatred, our
souls are as barren as the sun-parched desert.
God himself can sow no good seed in such soil."
The minister s delicate, clear-cut face glowed
with deep feeling as he spoke, and his eyes
flamed into a sudden beauty. His sligl. igure '
quivered with pent-up emotion.

" My friend," he continued even more gently,
inclining toward the ungainly form huddled in
the chair, with head dropping forward in an
attitude which might signify close attention or
physical drowsiness. « You are an old man ;
almost seventv, I should sav. A f. h^c^f ,.o" ^"-^

So KAmts. smNBiis and uukki: peoplb. ^
only a few yearn to live. I„ the ligl.t „f eter-
n.ty how unuttembly small and unworthy the
objects for which you have striven will appea.
God ,s ready to give you the sweetening, sin-C:
■ IT" ""'*«— ''y "ote-t off i\l Gorget

Jf you only knew it, and learn by blessed exne^
rience that true relidou ind (,„„ i ^

. insepamble ? " ^ ''"P^""'** "'«

^ The old man gave a mirthless, disdainful

" Don't waste that fine talk on me Parxon
You'll need it for Sabbath services Vr^ a
hold man to accuse me of hypocrisy and every-
thing ese hafs wicked, and I wouldn't iK.vPex-
peeted .t of a puling, baby-faced chap likJycu
B« 1 1 not let go my hold of the church. Z'
^■> I Ihats my strong weapon of torture, for I '
can disgrace people by means of the church
quicker than any other way, and it'schea "
«.a„ legal proceedings in court of h.w Tl,e
Graysons are not the only enemies I have had^
Bless me, no. Why! Pardon Ingram, we Inve
a record in this place that can't bf equaled ty
w re ,n the province. We have had six chuii.
trials in our own litUe Methodist chapel with its
n.embe,.hip of one hundred, and I wL the p r^ !

l^ei,sii, I, John Hewson, rough-and-ready John,

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

as some folks call me. Well, I guess I am rough,
for there's one thing I urn always ready to do,
and that is to fight. I came out ahead every
time, and the God-forsaken sinners got their
props of religion knocked from under them, and
had to get out.

" IIo) ho I I've had some precious victories in
my time I I can't sleep sometimes for remem-
bering and chuckling over them. When a man
finds he has such power over his enemies, -it
gives him something to live for; it makes him
wish that he could live, to be as old as Methu-
selah."

Tlie minister rose. There was an expression
of pain on his pale face, as he walked unsteadily
to the door.

" Good-night," he said, not looking back, " I'll
go up to my room."

" Hold on, I'll show you the way," said the
old man, stumbling to his feet. "But we
haven't had the customary word of prayer before
retiring," he added with a leer.

" No, I do not feel that it would be in keeping
with our, — that is, with your, conversation."

" Ho, ho ! Setting yourself against a Hewson,
eh ? Beware, Parson ! LI any a man has suffered
at my hands for as small an offence as that.
Here's your lamp and there's your room. Now •
scramble to your perqU an4 sleep the sleep of a

■ pious, wliining fool wlio dn^Mn'f i

keep l,i, se„„:„, to h LeUt"l r-' *"?"«'"°
tl.ein. You're vonn J f i "^ "* "■"''«'' ^w

called 1,X- '" ""^ ''*'>■■'""«

W:/S';;,:-:;r^---^ou never
;'Qmtesu,<-wa« the weary response.

"SnCt." ""^'^"^'■^"'"^'^^"
M:7:^S1'nf'• ^ -"'-''»'« -re.

rnnot;,o:%'';riirt!u''';''^

X^tt,;:"'"^"'^''^""^^-o^Vet

Mr. Ingram did not sleep well thaf ..; 7 . 1
tossed upon his hprl in o ^', ^^^ ^"^*^ "^g^it, he

"^i''^::rs: :::;FK~'t'?■
^ nve. He talked and prayed with her.

EOPLE.

3nough to
HHked for
•w, jou'Il

fter clos-
•Jitl bceji
lianibled
kej-hole

►u never

•e sure,
ul her.
f have
e face

:ht, he
I state
host's
-n by
isery.
y tlie
' had
1 her
nany
her,

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

but there was little he could do to alleviate her
mental distress. She was a good woiiiai), of
tender heart and simple faitli, and forlierself slio
liad no fears as she neared tlie threshold of tlie
unknown. Iler one cry was that she might die
happy ill tiio assurance that her husband was a
clianged man, released from the bondage of his
evil ways. But the minister dared lu-^t encour-
age tliis hope, the most he could do was to rejul
comforting passages from the Word which con-
tained many sweet promises respecting tlie
prayers of the righteous.

When he said good-bye to Mr. Ilewson at the
station as the train steamed up to the platform,
the old man gave him a gruff invitation to come
again and spend a day or night with him "if he
had no objection to jilain fare and plain talk."
But the minister had no tliought of accepting.
He fervently hoped that he would never again
lay eyes on rough-and-ready John Ilewson, un-
less some miraculous power interposed to pull
him up short in his course of iniquity, and drive
him to the foot of the Cross.

"'""■• ^^^^-*^-^-....«.w..

CHAPTEK ir.

"<i«t,.e«», sn,ili, /::l:f, !' '-!'" «- vmage post-
'""I given ],er til In ^ <'^Po<=taut face,

As «I,e turned / "to T f ""''""'"' '"■""'•
"'••"■'I. sI,o clipped tL.r"''"'"'^'' ''^'' ''<''•>-
pocket, and op „,." L^T'' """'^'' '"'« ''«
itassLe walked ""*»"'"■ P'Weeded to read

Si'e was a tall, slight girl hi, „, ,
featmc, with a liquid^eved „ ^'"™ """^

^vliiel. shone a trustful I i f """"'' *»«« from
Her „,other, a S L' "'^'"'''' ""«'»''■>* soul.
-0"... to s«pp::!:;;;S';";-;»;>e earned
Slie was of a sininle r„t.-, • '^ '"'"='"»? school.
»«mate friends ^^i^^ZtTi""'' '"'" '^-
-a« contentedand inte.I ed ' f, "' """^'"^
"seful occupations wh ch chi" ll '"""^ ^"'''"•
Of late a wonderful t. '" '""' ""ention.

"- quiet life, Eet^'TthTt 1 "'""'' '"'«
"ew possibilities tlmt .f T , '"'''' "•'"l"' of
to express the in^, t 'l "r^f '" ^^'>-"

The summer lanlcape ;u;'r"f ''.''■• '>-■•'•

"f^e, Hitli Its openuig buds

'EOPLs:,

^ly even-
ge post-
Ill t face,
J in the
fi knew
« hand.
I Jiome-
to Jier
to lead

n and

3 from

soul.

arjied
:hool.
few
tshe
njill,
tion.
into
liof
licli
art.
lids

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

and fresh green foliage, was not more significant
of hope and promise, than were the thoughts of
this maiden as ahe read lier lover's letter ; while
Btray breezes stirred her muslin gown,, and trifled
with the curls of brown hair whicli lay on her
brow.

*' Dearest Helen :

*' This has been a long, lonely week, and many
times I have longed for the sound of my sweet-
heart's voice, with the strengthening touch of her
hand in mine. In one sense you are always
with me. I am conscious of your spiritual pres-
ence wherever I go, for distance cannot separate
us or weaken the bond that unites us. Our ■
Imman hejirts pent up in these mortal bodies
chafe against the restrictions of time and circum-
stance, and ciy out for the solace of a tenderness
that can be felt not only in the hidden springs
of being, but in every exulting fibre of physical
consciousness.

" I love the work of my blessed Master, and I
rejoice more and more that He sees fit to use
me in His service ; no other calling would be as
congenial and acceptable to me. But I have
sometimes thought that you have not fully con-
sidered the hardships of a minister's wife, es-
pecially in this country where salaries are small
and the parsonages dingj ^n(| iBcouvenient. If

32 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE. '

your lover was so fortunate as to be counted
among the illustrious minority of the clerical
brethren, these things would be different. We
would be invited to the big churclies, and con-
gregations would vie with one another to see
which could bid the highest for liini. But as
he IS only a timid fledgling, the conference sends
him to backwoods missions where he need not
be afraid of the sound of his own voice, and
where he can grow big and strong on the stimu-
lus of adversity.

" However, I know that you are a brave, noble
little woman, my Helen, and you have learned
that true happiness does not consist in, or depend
upon, the measure of our earthly possessions.

" As long as Ave have each other, dearest, and
that unswerving trust in our heavenly Father»s
dealmgs which is tlie essence of contentment,
what more need we desire ? Our liome, though
humble, shall be a little heaven on earth, made
beautiful by unselfish love. I am counting the
weeks as they go by; did time ever pass so
slowly? In two months we shall be married,
and I shall bring my wife liome. Then life
will begin for us in earnest. I tliink a man is
never quite complete, nor fully equipped for
life s battles, till he is united to his kindred
soul, and has engrafted into his own character
somcihing of the finer womanly qualities of hig

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

helpmate. As I take my long drives into the
country, rejoicing in the beauties of nature, the
thought of you pervades all other thoughts, and
I am as hopeful and exultant as a boy, as I niakfj
plans for our future. May God's richest bless-
ings rest upon you, His child, and may tlje
anticipation which I ]io\v enjoy, be only the
foretaste of a happiness deep and abiding, spring-
ing from tlie exhaustless source of all true joy,
and reacliing out into an endless Eternity.
Write to me often, dearest Helen, your bright,
girlish letters are a Avonderful comfort and in-
spiration. Remember that I am interested in
everytliing which affects your welfare in the
slightest degree.

" Your faithful lover,

" Robert Ingram."

Tl)e girl kissed the letter once, twice, thrice,
passionately, then blushed and looked around in
shy apprehension of being observed. But the
narrow, winding path led into the heart of a shad-
owy wood, where everything was still save the
murmuring pines and an occasional rustle among
the underbrush, and there were no liuman eyes to
witness the impulsive demonstratioji.
^ Several gophers darted nimbly across her path-
way, and a white rabbit sat back on its hind
legs looking at her very wisely. Vistas of silence

34 SAmrs; SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

toucliecl into mellow beauty by the last rays of
the sun, opened into the innermost recesses of
twining green labyrinths. Helen was in close
sympathy with nature's subtlest moods and
inscrutable mysteries.

The trembling leaves, gnarled tree trunks,
twisted boughs and impressive stillness, added
a touch of sublime exaltation to her glow of ten-
derness, and snatches of a song rose to her lips.
. She had a' fresh, sweet voice, and sang with
as little effort and self-consciousness as the birds
that paused in their warblings to listen to her.

*' Love is a fairy most winsome and coy,

Who cares not to dally or mope ;
Her luscious lips are the gate of joy,

Her eyes are the skies of hope ;
Her step is fleet as the wings of dawn,

Her arms are pillows for pain ;
Her voice is music's most sacred shrine.

Her heart is life's sheltered domain.
She flits on the wind with outstretched arms.

Her face in strange radiance glowing,
As she spreads the net of her subtle charms

With a smile full tender and knowing ;
Sweetly she sings as she weaves her spell.

And this is the song she sings so well :
' More beauteous than Fame, 'tis my mission to bless ;
There is bliss in my name, in my breath a caress ;
Oh, happy are they who dispute not my sway,
For I live when Time's footsteps have long passed

away,

In a few minutes she emerged into the open

"EOPLE.

ist rays of
ecesses of
s ill close
loods and

e trunks,
3SS, added
ow of ten-

lier lips,
ang with

the birds
1 to her.

An APOSTLi^ OP HATS.

o bless ;
ress ;

Qg passed
lie open

prairie and entered a small frame house, covered
with creeping vines, which stood close to tlie
road. A motherly-looking woman was bustling
around the room, setting the table and preparing
tea.

" Just in time, dear," she said clieerily ; " have
you had a pleasant walk? And Avere the
school-children less troublesome t'o-day?"

" Yes, mother, it lias been a delightful day
altogether, and the best of it has come last."
She laid her hat and gloves away in their ac-
customed places, in the chamber adjoining the
outer room. When she came out she had donned
a white apron.

'^Sit down and rest," said Mrs. Leslie,
"there's nothing more to do. How well you
look, Helen. That pink color in your cheeks is
becoming. Well, what is it that has come last ?
Oil, I know. A letter from that pale-faced
preacher beau of yours. He must be neglecting
all the saints and sinners of his congregation
for the sake of making himself chatty to you.
How can he find time to write sermons when
his head is so full of love-making ? "

" Don't make fun of my boj^" returned the
girl with shy pleasantry. " If he is pale it is
because he is always too busy to think of him-
self, and needs' somebody to take care of him."

' Oh. he s a fino smppimpn imd ^^^ v«i.>.4^-^i,«

S6 sAii^Ts, sm^^ns Am <in^s people.

Keveience, for the best of men are ooor, soft
unthinking creatures when they're 'in C"
No. that flighty Robert Ing..,„ iaates en ^i

th in,!"^'^,:' "'" '"""" ^'-' ''« does, and
the t.me he takes to wite letb;,« might be more

regetables. You can't live on love and the
So„ptu,.s,ev.nifyouare two of the small!
eatera I ever saw. But these preachers pride
themselves m being like the lilL of thefleU^
and 'takmg no thought.' It's an excuse fo^
their sliiftlessness."

The good woman's moutli lost none of its
ge ml curves as she talked, and, in spite of her
ramery .t w<.s evident that she was well plea ed
with her daughter's chosen husband, and fou.^
a wholesome satisfaction in the prospect of he
comnig his mothei-in-law.

They 3.-11 down at the table and Helen poured
«^ tea while M.. Leslie served the eustaS
jelly. It was a simple, frugal meal, but the
viands were well eooked and appeti;ing tt
napery was spotlessly white, and the lampligh;
threw a cheerful glow over the hnm» ,.; P"S'''
WliAn *!,„ 1 liome-like scene.

When the meal was cleared away, the iri,l
brought out her books to prepare for thrmo
row^'s stuaies, and when she felt in her pocket

AN APOSTLE OP IIAT^.

for a lead pencil, her fingers came in contact
with the unopened letter which she had for-
gotten in the g^ow of excitement and pleasure
called forth by her lover's words. It was an
almost illegible scrawl and bore the postmark
of Birtle.

" I saw you at the station as I was going
through to the city. Your face looked familiar.
I asked your name, and made enquiries. Your
real name is Helen Grayson, and the woman
who adopted you is a cousin of your mother.
You are an illegitimate child, and your father
and mother paid the penalty of their crimes by
dying in poverty and disgrace. Your father
was tried for murder, but managed to cheat the
gallows. I learn that you are engaged to a
respectable young preacher who is a friend of
mine. The marriage must not take place. He
must not be allowed to mate with such as you.
I have proofs of all I have written and will
produce them if necessary.

" tfoHN Hewson."

The girl read the letter twice, slowly and pain-
fully, trying to understand the meaning of the
strange words. It did not seem possible that
they could have been addressed to hir. Then

Tl.e paper fluttered ?, ''""■^""''^en creature,
-d W head fXS ''-• "^''-less finge.

" What is it, Helen ? " «^ i • ,
h^rying to her i' .f^.f'™'' Mrs. Leslie
news?" ^^"^'e you had bad

Then her eye fell on the letter.

himself. Novdo'' If ^""'^'"'"^^^ "« Satan

'^-^ you, thll.^rtf.'rrt^."'^ •'""''
andgood as a babv a„d „. "^ mnocent

a finger to harm hf^ ^'dr'' "l"'™'' "^ ^^^^
riage either." ' ^ '" "'*" ' «'»? «>e mar-

-P^tXit''-- other sounder
ma:Xrng"a:;S>f «- -"otherlywo.

"Nobody'oaf tc y:'u-:™ "'■"""' "^^•

Robert, aud we'll staL by J. " ' ^"' '"" '"'"•*

watzrLT::,«f-^'i^ti„g

upon the face above ZT ^"'""^ "PP^"'

A -^eleTti:;"! ll -^ "Ti ^"'^^-
waited i„ dread for ;raCwt:rtr\rtit

AN APOSTLJS OP HATH.

she felt that the confirmation of her worst fears
would be less painful than suspense.

Mrs. Leslie's large, amiable features contracted
sharply with an expression of mingled pity and
compunctio \. She was naturally a truthful
Avoman,and the least prevarication or subterfuge
was abliorrent to her. Yet she could not easily
bring herself to the candid performance of the
task so suddenly imposed on her. She felt her-
self growing nervous under that strained pa-
thetic gaze, and her principles of veracity began
to waver uncomfortably.

" I'll tell you about it by and by, dear," she
said soothingly. " Some things are not as bad
as they seem." She would have stopped there,
but the girl's compelling glance forced her to
go on.

" Perhaps I ought to have told you tlie rights
of the matter, and explained that I wasn't your
real mother, but there didn't seem any necessity
for it, and somehow I hadn't the heart to lay
bare the troubles and misfortunes that drove
your parents to their grave. It isn't well to
cloud the sunshine of young lives with sad
stories of people that are dead and gone, and
a past that can neither be helped nor cured."

" Then it is true ? " said Helen, her face rigid
and tearless.

*-vt*i.ivy, viwxi V iOOiv Hli.U Hint i

exciaimea Mi's.

about: "L^ii ™;i"" L" '^"^-

g-ning the faculty of apeeehLo/f"''^-'"
-me logical connection offd'as '"™'"^

" Beheve nothing but what is ™o,1 tk
rna^ mistakes lilce other people bSril Jev:r
think they planned to do wrong. Your f thl

t n ll"-'^ •■'"quitted, but the disgmce of i/
killed him.- Murder indeed ' H^ !f !?
tender-hearted doctor I :::j,r''^^'^\7f
your coming before your lawfu L/.f.

unfortunater I'll admit vl ' *'" """

way. ^<'" *«« " "-as this

I.n.'l' V'l ''*'" ™' "=' f"'' *« maniage, but it
l.ad to be postponed on account of your gi^li

AN APOSTLE OF HATE. 4\

mother's death, your mother's mother, my clear.
Then your father took ill of a fever and was
sent to the hospital, and lingered there i^r a long
time between life and death. You were born
about the time of his recovery. Wlien he heard
about it you could have knocked him down with
a feather. The marriage took place soon after,
and your parents lived together happily till your
father chanced to cross the temper of that old—
that fiend who hounded him to death."

The girl did not hear all the details of the
narrative which Mrs. Leslie made as lengthy as
possible in order to divert attention from the
pith and substance of it. Her curiosity was
satisfied on the one point which alone concerned
her, and the sickening suspense had given place
to a deadly certainty. What mattered to her
the motives and accidental circumstances which
surrounded her birth, they could not alter facts
or clothe disgrace with even a semblance of re-
spectability.

The one fatal conclusion forced itself on her
mind, <'I have no lawful claim on life. I am
the offspring of shame and folly. I ought not
to exist." Every sensitive fibre of her nature
tingled and smarted with the pain of it ; she
could not suppress it or reason against it, she
had no logic of worldly wisdom and human ex-
perience at her command to fortifv her ae-ainst.

57 -

'.'4

its sudden attack, and it mastered her Sl>«
knew tl.a something preeious had go ^ W
iier never to Iff urn tk i 6""« noni

ifeiirness and tlie earth its beautv ^h^
thought of Rnhpif n, I 7 "i-fiuty. {^he

flasiidacr„sX:LTf:;.rtr.''r

«.>d added to her misery ' """"'«'■

room, a„d^I:Lru:e^^ '"""'"■'" ''°''«''-

ni;! : "^rcr- «■■« "«" "-patched

come by the Ixt wf T/'''"f ''"^ '"'" *"
to the house and\vaite"i It " T'" '^^"'^
and if the message found U>1 Tt In"^ ', ° "'°*'
«mve before midniirht If ,™ ''^ ''°°'''

manner, then ao-i ; n f i,^ , V ^ ^' ^ ^s^^ess

and eea;ed ZS.t Cnl't r ' ""'''"'•'•
moment later. ^ ""^ '''"^"'cd »

"Poor child!" murmured Mr«. Leslie. "It's

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

her first trouble, mid I don't doubt that it's lier
worst. I wisii I knew how to comfoit lier.
She lias as good a light to hold up her head as
the proudest lady iu the land. I don't see why
she should let this knowledge erush all the
hope and spirit out of her as if it was part of
her doing, liut Knbert Ingram is a man of
taet and wisdom, he has the right words for
what he feels, and he will be able to cheer and
comfort her."

He came at last. She heard the click of the
gate and his quick stej) on the gravel patli.
The next instant he was in the room. He
looked anxious and haggard.

" Is she ill ? " he asked, breathing } d from
the effects of liis unusual speed. He had
covered most of tho di. «ance from the station
at a running pacv . *' Your message gave me a
great shock."

" She is not ill physically, at .east not moie
than you would expect, but we are in trouble,
and I thought it was best to send for you." She
led tho way into the little parlor, which was
seldom used, and very quietly, in a low voice,
told him what had transpired.'

" My poor darling ! " he exclaimed in lender-
est pity. " I must see her at once. Has she
so little confidence in me as to think that I
could change towards Iier because of these

44 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

things? lam more eager tlian ever to make
her my wife, so that I may have tlie right to
protect her against insult and injury. We
must be married immediately, to-morrow, if
possible."

"I think likely Helen has dropped asleep,"
said Mrs. Leslie. " I haven't heard any sound
in her room for several minutes, but I'll so and
see." ^

Suddenly a startled cry resounded through
the house. Mr. Ingram sprang from his chair,
rushed through the narrow passage into the
dinmg-room, and from there to the bedroom.
A strange, sickening odor was in the air. Mrs
Leslie was leaning over the prostrate figure on
the bed. *

"Oh, Robert! She has taken something.
What shall we do? "she exclaimed, wringing
her hands. ° ^

Then, as she moved back, he caught siglit of
the girl's white, distorted face, the half-open
glaring eyes, wide and dark with the agony of
an awful ^consciousness, the rigid limbs, the
helpless struggle to ward off approaching death
long enough for a last effort of intelligent
Si3eech. At a bound he reached her. He
pressed his warm lips to hers, he entreated her
by every endearing name that distracted love'
cau invent, to come back to him, to happiness,

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

to life, but even as he spoke, he knew that she
was dying.

" Helen, dearest, speak ! " he implored.

Her stiff lips moved, and he bent lower to
listen.

" I could not — bear — the pain — of knowing
that I — I — " she wiiispered inco]ierently,a sharp
spasm sending a quiver over her features. " It
burned into my brain, and I — I — ask God to —
to forgive me, Robert."

The glazing eyes over which the shadow of
an invisible Hand seemed to be resting, fixed
themselves on his face with a look of unutterable
love, remorse, and sorrow. A convulsive sliudder
passed over her, then slie stiffened suddenly and
he held in liis arms a corpse.

The next morning, while that silent awe
which is the atmosphere of death pervaded
the house, Mrs. Leslie paused in her soundless
weeping to give expression to the thought
which was continually recurring to her mind
with haunting pei-sistency.

" I wish that man could be brought here to
see his wicked work," slie said in a passionate
undertone. " It would rob him of his taste for
revenge to see her so young, so lovely " — sobs
choked her utterance.

" He shall come," returned Robert Ingram,
with an air of sad, quiet determination. " He

III

V>U

1,1 ^

i"
i

liii

46 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

shall Stand by her coffin and look on her, and
say to himself, This is my doing. I have
wired him to be liere to-night."

A few hours later John Ilewson stepped from
the ears to the depot platform with an eager
alert manner, which in a man of younger years
would have been decidedly jaunty. He still
shambled, and his shaggy head lopped forward
somewhat, but there was a new vim in his
clumsy gait, and in his heavy features the
brightening effect of an absorbing purpose.

" Ho, lio ! Parson ! " he exclaimed in a jocular
voice as Mr. Ingram stepped up to him. « So
we meet again, eli ? Strange how things come
about when we least expect it. ' Everything
comes to him who waits,' that's true, isn't it ?
Of course it is ! You'll not shake hands, eh ?
Well, perhaps that's natural. I suppose you're
cut up a little because I've spoiled your chances
with Grayson's daughter. I call tliat deuced •
ungrateful. Parson. You ought to be thankful
to me for preventing an alliance like that."

The minister scarcely spoke after the first
cold greeting. They walked slowly through
the silent streets in the deepening twilight, and
both of them remembered a similar walk upon
the occasion of their first meeting. The old
man's triumph was slightly chilled by the im-
passive demeanor of Mr. Ingram, from whom he

AN APOSTLE OF HATE,

rom

had naturally expected a tirade of protest, de-
nunciation and remonstrance. But he assured
himself that this would come later. The Par-
son was not a man to treat so important a matter
as lightly as his present cool, self-contained
manner would seem to indicate.

" I've brought some documents in my valise
which will prove the truth of my statements,
if any proof is necessary, to back up the
word of rough-and-ready John Hewson, who
was never known to be untruthful by word
ofmouM? though he has been obliged, in the
interf f justice, to do some sharp double-deal-
ing, ill his time. I suppose that's why you sent
for me, eh. Parson ? To have some substantial
proof to show to the young woman."

Mr. Ingram made no reply.

" Mark my words, Parson, I'm not going to
spare her. It has been the aim of my life for
yeai-s to find lier and make her suffer, and it will
be a supreme moment for me when we stand
face to face and I tell her again what I wrote
in that letter. Ah, I'll tell it in such a way
that it will cut her to the quick. Yes, sire, you
must leave it all to me, Pareon ! I don't want
any meddling or molly-coddling from you."

Still the minister was silent, and the old man,
after several vain attempts to beguile him into

nnrr ir Ai«c.n f i rm

■m

'if;

rtoaoaA

axiu.

uQQamQ

48 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

vaguely uncomfortable and apprehensive ; each
of them M-as engrossed with his own thoughts.
The stillness of the external world caused the
voices of their inner consciousness to be heard
more clearly. One was living over again with
intensified suffering the events which had so
completely changed the aspect of his future, the
other was exulting, with the selfish cruelty of a
gross nature, in anticipation of a long-deferred,
carefully-plannted revenge.

When they reached the house and were on
the point of entering, a gust of wind blew tlie
crape which was tied on the door, and it flapped
upwards against the face of John Hewson. He
started violently, shivered, and drew back. But
before he could utter a word of protest, oi- in-
quiry the minister ushered him inside.

" If you are hungry I'll see that a lunch is
prepared for you," he said in a low voice, as he
took the old man's hat arid vaiise and deposited
them in the hall. "If not, perhaps you would
rather see Miss Grayson now."

" Yes, yes ; no time like the present," was the
^ager, nervous reply. "I haven't slept well
lately, and my nerves are i-atlier shaken. I must
get this matter settled at once. I'm used to
fighting and brow-beating men, yes, and women
too, but a girl— I'm not used to that. If she
Jia^ a sharp tongue she may be top inual^ for m§,

:• 1/

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

DUld

the
well

nust
i to

nen
she

m§,

But I say, Parson," he added in a perplexed
voice, "I didn't know you had death in the
house. I suppose there must be as little dis-
turbance as possible." He spoke regretfully;
it was no small sacrifice to relinquish the noisy
self-assertiveness and freedom of language which
formed so large a part of his triumphs.

" Come this way," said Mr. Ingram. Softly
opening the door of the parlor he passed inside,
and John He wson, throwing back his shoulders
with an air of dogged defiance, and swelling his
chest to its utmost capacity followed close be-
hind him.

A coffin resting upon two chairs occupied the
centre of the room. The minister paused be-
side it, and the other man, yielding involuntarily
to a mysterious attraction, &tood still at the same
moment, and gazed down at the beautiful girl
who might be supposed to be sleeping, but for
the marble-like pallor and rigidity of facial
curves, which no sleep in life can simulate.
He looked long and steadily like a man wrought
upon by some hypnotic influence.

The minister's voice broke the silence.

"This is Helen Grayson," he said, very
gently and reverently, " the innocent girl whose
happiness you sought to destroy. Your liate
and cruelty have accomplished your purpose
even more auicklv and skilfullv than
4

von

ex-

50 SAINTS, SINNEns AND QUEER PEOPLE.

pected You see she is dead, quite dead," he
struggled for the mastery of emotions which
threatened to break doNvn liis self-control, then
continued :

" She was a simple-Iiearted girl. She knew
a most notliing of oar world and its ways. Her
pleasures lay in the quiet paths of contentment
and duty. Sorrow was unknown to her. She
loved nature and she loved me," he gulped down
the sob that rose* in his throat. " She was kind
and gentle; she could not have harmed the least
of God s creatures. Hatred and malice were as
far from her as from the angels in Heaven,
bhe had the kindliest thoughts for everybody
and not so much as a breath of bitterness Avas
ever raised against her, for she lived in the
charmed world of refined girlhood. When your '
letter came she was bewildered and fri<.htened
and scarce could understand the meaning of your
venomous words. The realization came sud-
denly-too suddenly. It took hold of her ima^i-
nation like a hideous demon and goaded her to
the frenzy of madness. She had only one wish •
•to escape from hei^elf and misery, and she took

liLtr" ^' ^'''^' '^"'''' ""''^ ^^P<^

John Hewson watched him with a stran<>-e,

fascinated expression, but he did not speak.

Fresentl^ his glance returned to the figure in

l;ii

AN APOSTLE OF HATH.

the coffin. He observed, with dulled sensibilities,
tiie texture of tlie shroud, and the white flowem
nestling against the fair cheek and throat. He
wondered stupidly whether she had died from
poison or drowning. Gradually he wandered
into a labyrinth of disconnected, trivial conjec-
ture.

When he lookod up, recalled to the con-
sciousness of his surroundings by aslightsound,
lie discovered tliat Mr. Ingram had gone. He
had an impulse of fear and hastened to leave the
room, but the door resisted him ; again he tried
to open it, but without effect. His wrinkled
hands trembled, and his limbs shook under him
as he realized that he Avas shut in with the life-
less body of his victim. He wanted to cry out
but his lips seemed paralyzed and his parched
tongue refused to do him service. He could not
look again at the motionless girl ; for he fancied
that her face had a different expression now.
He was sure that her eyes were open, and turned
on him with a mocking gleam as if to taunt
him with the helplessness of his position, the
emptiness of his revenge, and the cowardly feel-
ings that possessed him.

He moved stealthily around the room, taking
care to keep his eyes averted from the coffin,
and finally sat down in the farthest corner with
his back turned to the silent occunant and Kti»rP!d

JMl

62 sAmTs, sfmms Am QtrsEn peoplb.
blankly at tl.o wall. Suddenly a face took slnne
vaguely outlined at f .t agafnst a U^t^tZ

me It It was a man's face and it wore a smilfl
, "f '"^ff''W° peace and happiness.

"Giayson, you sneak I" muttered tlie old

come back to jeer at me, have you ? " hJ
turned h,s head in another direct on that he
m,ght not meet fl,at ..diant glance which ec^T
tmsted so painfully with hi own condit "n

eclge of .uch misery as appeals to the comnre
l.ens.on but adds poignancy to the sensaZsof
a disordered bruin. " Wh/ had he fancied H
hewasalone ?"he asked himself. The room a'
a hve with people whom he had never expecld

How;:rh- "^'''^--»M..arays::r

How well he remembered those wistful dis
tressed features, but she too had earned He,'
ward of^patient suffering, and a smile curved he;

a.e°ncv\n"'' "^P""'"'* -"^ '^ ^y ^'^I^lieal
agency, all joyous and animated by the con

s .ousness of final victory, which could nevt
know defeat at his hands. He had done ,1

CaVd'tr ''"' '''' '""'' •-"' - -"^

Hue "'^ °^'''' '"' "''"'^'^ S»™e of

An apostle of iiAfE.

He put his hands over his eyes to shut out
their penetrating derision, but lie could still
see them. A dumb rage and despair seized upon
him ; the hosts of his enemies were bearing
down upon him in unassailable strength, with
sharpened weapons forged from the fire of their
earthly torture, and guided by the hand of Divine
retribution. His senses were distorted ; it was
agony to believe in them, yet he could not mis-
trust them without being plunged still deeper
into the delirium of ghastly fears and hideous
images.

He was surrounded on fill sides by these
creatures of his disorganized fancy; he had
never feared realities, but now he shuddered
at the slightest approach or gesture of these
phantoms, who exulted so openly in the weight
of misery which oppressed him. Worst of all,
the dead girl had found speech wherewith to
stab him. He knew without looking that she
liad raised hei*self and was staring at him with
eyes like coals of fire.

" Murderer ! " she whispered. " What of
your soul ? "

He groaned and hid his face deeper in his
arms. The cold perspiration broke out on his
brow, and he shook from head to foot as if he
had the palsj'.

" Prav, Door sinner. t3ray ! " This time it was

» 1 lh.:l.

I 1 1 !■

f I

44 SATNT.9. mx^iti Am aesat Pm'ts.

tl.e Voica of her ,vl,o had been hfa wif.. „„a
^ hose Y moment. Inul beou ombittero I L t «

Jolm lie,vso„ lived a lifetime of aconize.!
W.e« I„,g with g,.i,„ Nemesis, i,. ,I,„ twoC «

Btel In t, "' 7.'"' '■<''»'"- 1 ^vith hushed foot-

ahu Jr '"" "■°"'"'"=S '" " -""•■'"• like

ahunted cmmnal ; wild^yed, f,.a,.K.s,s, „„d fem"

iiig Jeaifully from his own shadow.

A wonderful tenderness and comnassion swe, ,t
over the younger man's faee. He stooped ad
eneuohng the writhing form with his fi™. riJ^
arm raised him to his feet, and support ghL
feeble weight, led him gently from 'the "om
He did not leave him again, but s^t iT •

a::a:ct:r fSer^dr^ r *^^"''''

far off. Hi3 eonv„i::r;t gX h'd iZ""'
jope. Jie iiad cried m crhtilv fnr /?«]• ^

w *J:r/? '" '--" Snfi^iS"?

Lasteced to his relief. The spirit of Hate Ind
«one out of hUn, a„d his heart' returned to E
as it had been m his childhood. He could not
S :: ''"^'"r'^ "l-p again- bu h W
qwet, saymg a few word, from time to time

A]^ APOSTIE OP IIAT^.

111 a voice of strange ilifBclence and simplic-
ity.

" Tell me again, Parson, tluit you don't hold
a grudge against mo," he said wistfully. " I've
taken away your dearest treasure."

Robert Ingram's head was bowed in his hands,
and tears dripped through his fingers ; tears that
rose from a complete emotion of solemn joy over
a penitent soul, and sorrow for the beloved dead
whose frozen youth and beauty was ever before
his eyes, though it lay in the next room.

" No, my friend," he replied, " neither you
nor any one else can take her fiom me. She is
mine still, eternally mine in Christ. I forgive
you freely even as I hope to be forgiven. But
you have sinned grievously. Settle that witli
your Maker."

" I have settled it. Parson, and I've got some-
thing liere" — laying his hand on his heart —
"that I don't undei-stand as yet. It's made up
of sunshine, and love, and unshed tears, as soft
and gentle as summer rain. I never felt any-
thing like it. Parson. I've been pinching myself
to make sure it isn't a dream."
. A little later he said weakly,

"It goes to my heart. Parson, that you should
be so kind to me after all I've done. I've known
many men in my day, but none like you. I'd
like to live long enough to do you a good turn,

y . ¥

66 ^^^INTS, SlNkKliS ANJJ QUUmi PEOPL^^,
but I guess my time's up. Tlut's tl.e hardest
tliought; that I can't undotlio wrong I've done
i want to love everybody and make things
P c^sant in the workl. It's a sad worhl at heft,
and tlie cruelost thing in it is Hate. Yes
J see It now. Oh, Parson, can't I make up for
It somehow ? Don't you think that an old man
like me who was his own worst enemy and didn't
i^now It, will have another chance where I'm
going, to treat folks lovingly like Him you ve
been reading about ? I'd be doubly glad to go

children s faces, and lift the burdens of the old
aye, and to make young maidens and their lovers
happy. Speak, man ! Don't you think the next
world Will be very nuich like this one, only
be er and purer and more beautiful? Surely
1 11 have another chance to make people happy ? -
His thin lips trembled pitifully, and in his
eaniestness he reached out the wrinkled hand that
had been fluttering nervously on the coverlid

and clutched the minister's sleeve.

" It maybe so," said the other cautiously, and

the dying man lay back on his pillow with an

expression of peace on his face.
'' Put up a word of prayer. Parson," he

whispered, "I'm going down into the valley.

It IS cold and dark. Pray and I'll say Amen

when you come to the end."

AN APOSTLE OF HATE.

llobert Ingram knelt down, and stilling the
trembling of tlio wasted liandin his strong clasp,
prayed brokenly :

" Dear Father, take home Thy penitent child I
Give him an abundant welcome into the king-
dom of love. lie has beei wandering in dark-
ness and sin for many years, and is bruised and
weary and heart 1 u'lgrj . A little light lias
come into his soul, ;ii' ugh v»show him his need
of Thee. Dear Fai,^<-r, j^ ;ther him into Thy
arms of love, and cai.y liim tenderly into the
fold."

He did not rise from his knees immediately,
but, with a closer pressure of the hand, waited
for the promised word.

But John Hewson's "Amen" had passed
beyond the hearing of mortal ears.

! ■'!!

¥ II

A DAY IN OASTLE BOHEMIA

nnS •'"""'^'^ '^ '' "'« Woof of wS

motlier was Her Maiestv A,l,i;„ .i, j

tho Plni.i,. • •" •* ■ ■'^^''"'e' the eldest of

the ch,lcl,e„, a s.xteen-year-old young lady wl.o

«3 an example of p.e„,atu,.e a„d^p,Z bus

«to, p,obabIy because it was she who invented
meknames for the othe,«. Alfred, because of
h,s wonderful variety of talents, had b^en re

ilr ^Z'"" *'" '^'•^•^'- Caroh-nt V ,0
was the most poetical one a.nong them JZ

know„ .n the household ,s CaLul Ca.:i:

2' the w,se Edmond was Grimes, and Har

old, „„ overgrown l«y whose pei^onality ,™

ent... y devoid o. angelic suggestivene s, r^

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA. 59

joiced ill tlie name of Seraph, while Bobbie, the
youngest, a mischievous lad of five years, went
by various appellations which fittingly described
his promiscuous iniquities.

The family en masse were spoken of by out-
siders in significant phraseology, as " The queer,
clever Wilsons," " The think-much, do-notliing
Wilsons," " The rich, lazy Wilsons." Probably
no one enjoyed these labels as much, or appre-
ciated their appropriateness as tlxoroughly, as the
Wilsons themselves, for they had a nice, dis-
crimination in the matter of titles, and their
alert faculties were keenly attuned to the least
symptom of acuteness in otlier people.

The juniors were considered remarkable in
many ways. TJiey had a certain crude maturity
beyond their years, and a bubbling vitality
which characterized their every motion. Their
talents were as conspicuous as their eccentricities,
and their egotism was nothing more than the
harmless, natural enjoyment which exuberant
boys and girls derive from the contemplation
of their own cleverness.

Their manners, ideas, and customs were pecul-
iarly their own by right of origin, copyrighted
by preference, not picked up from the prevail-
ing sentiments of the day or the codes which
regulate the machinery of conventional society..
Perhaps the^ would have made some effort ^9

60 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

identify the fiery quality of tlieir individual
tendencies with the slower, steadier pulse of
humanity at large, if the advisability of so doina
had ever been sufficiently impressed upon them.
But after they had been ushered into the world,
had been nursed, fed, petted, and gently repri-
manded during the period of infantile suscepti-
bility, they were allowed to spring up as best
11 ey could, under the sole guidance of nature ;
who, as everybody l^nows, will play queer pranks
when left to herself, and deliglits in the evolu-
tion of freaks, joyous, laughter-loving, irrespon-
sible creatures, who nestle close to her heart as
to a sympathetic mother, and accept the smiles
and frowns of uncongenial mortals with serene
maitterence.

King William, one of the best and most con-
scientious of fathei-s, was unavoidably absent
from home a great part of the time on account
o. busmess exigencies, and Her Majesty, whose
trail physical teneraent was poorly equipped for
the accommodation of her extraordinary brain
power, was seldom in Castle Bohemia, if she
was able to be anywhere else ; for though she
was consbintly experimenting in patent medi-
cines, the unvarying i„oscription of the family
physician was « change of air and scenery "

So it frequently came to pass that slie cast
mide her sovereignty as a burden too heavy to

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

be borne by a lady of delicate constitution, and
took to herself the freedom of an iintranimelled
existence ; while her children — strong to com-
mand, to do, and to dare — reigned in her stead,
if not always with skill and judgment, at least
with a degree of hilarity unknown during Her
Majesty's supremacy.

They grew and flourished and spread them-
selves, shooting out the branches of their vigorous
mentality in all directions, like young trees that
have never felt the pruning knife.

The servants imbibed freely of the exhilarat-
ing lawlessness of the establiahment, and wliile
they performed their duties fairly well, their
methods were erratic, their manners excitable and
jovial, and hopelessly out of keeping with their
position as menials. After living a short time
with the Wilsons, they were obliged to " stay
on " or join a comic variety troupe, for they
were totally unfitted for the monotony of
domestic service outside of Castle Bohemia.
Rhoda Jennings, the house-maid, explained this
singular process at some length to Biddy Ma-
guire, the washerwoman, as tliey ate their dinner
together within sound of the lively talk which
proceeded from the dining-room.

" My h'eye I " she said scornfully, " don't talk
to me about goin' anywheres for bigger wages,
Biddy Maguire, because I couldn't do it nohow.

62 SAIMTS, SIMNEBS AND qUBBH PEOPLE.
Wl,at'» wages, to fun, an' music, an' queer 'appen-
usfron. m„™ till night, week in, week out?
It s as good as goin' to a eireus every day to live
m this family, special when Her Majesty h
aw.^. They settle down ^ quiet as laX for a
while of a morn „'; Miss Addie wrapped up i„ her
•poultry news,' whatever that means. know

itt? nw"^'" "' """"'"' "'"^ -^^ «-
Tnd t, ^T''"\ ""." «'"«''-''^ffg''<l clothes-W,
and Seraph rockm' and readin' an' lettin' the

pl..y.n soft an' slow on the fuldle, and a sort
of sleepy dyin' away feelin' takes 'old of tl e

thriit^t 1 '?P'' 'T '"^■'"■'"^ ""'"■• 'That's
theJrsthaeVse. I, and I waits for the

"Sure enough it comes along betimes like a

band-wagon with all the h'instruments blowin' to
once. Miss Addie comes out of herpoultry news
an dresses up like the Queen of Sheba when she'
set her eap to Solomon. The Great puts the
c othes- orse ,n a corner and w.ishcs the paint off
his ands, and when they're all fixed up fine they
toast their toes an' talk just beautiful, like folks
in stmy-books. I can't work while that's goin'
on I never went to school moie'n six months,
but since I came here I swear to goodness, BiddJ

r:^,"":';' " ?!""' •='"-'-'■ I J'>«t <l-ps what
im dom, and listens; sometimes I laughs in-

* ir

J DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA. 63

nerdly like to bustin' an' the buttons flies off my
clothes at the talk they gets off.

"Tlien along of the afternoon callers keep
clroppin' in, an' Miss Addie always has cake
and lemonade, or sandwiches an' coffee to pass
around. I declare to goodness I'm sick of the
sight of victuals. Bobbie livens up things by
tumbiin' into the water-barrel, or dabbin' the
chairs with mucilage, orsettin' fire to something,
an' then there's a general scrimmage an' ram-
page. An' between laughin' an' cryin' and not
knowin' what's goiji' to 'appen next, I feel that
frolicsome that I can't keep my feet from wig-
glin', it's as good as 'avin' St. Vitus dance.

"Then in the evenin', my h'eye ! Biddy
Maguire, it beggai-s all prescription, as The
Great would say. Miss Addie's gentlemen
come pourin' in like the h'animals into the
1 1 'ark, and she and Miss Carrie play do-its on the
piano, and The Great sings and twiddles on the
git-thar, and Grimes plays the fiddle to words
of his own ammunition, an' Miss Addie sings
imp-romp-you.

" Then they put the furniture into the 'all an'
dance around like tops. An' Bobbie, slippiu'
downstairs in his night-gown as soft as you
please to eat jam an' sugar in the pantry, falls
over the chairs and lets a 'owl out of him fit
to w^ke th^ 4^n.d, an' the gentlemen come out

*ii

I «!*'■

64 SAINTS, SINNERS AN I) QUEER PEOPLE.

an' give him five centses, ,i\\' he pays me toll to
get into the pantry and, .>Ii, my h'eye, Biddy !
we do 'ave rich times. I just revels in tiiem.'
That Bobl)ie is the blessedest child tliat ever
drew breatli. He is a h'oin an'-ho'ii bit of
Satan, that's what he is. Miss Addie calls him
' 'Rip^inal Sin,' but that's not stiong enough for
Bobbie, no ma^am. I knows him well, no one
better, we're --^ i id^lr as two peas, and I calls him
a ' H'out-an'-li'ou(.ei\

Biddy Magai ve - r>,s coiLstrained to admit that
a situation in. tlie Wilson domicile had advan-
tages which money could not purchase, and that
perhaps, all things considered, Rhoda could not -
do better than remain M'here she was.

" And Mias Addie is so obligin', never speaks
unpolite no matter what I do, though sometimes
siie and Miss Carrie takes to laughin' till I think
they 11 'urt their insides, an' then I laughs too.
I can't 'elp it. Just after I came 'ere, my young
man come to see me ; he lives a long way off, an'
I hadn't seen him for, oh my goodness, Kever so
long I

" Of course I didn't take him into the big
drawin'-room with the mirrors and pictures an'
life-size piano an' glitterin' things, I know my
place too well for that. I just took hiiii quiet
and modest like into one of the himitation par-
lors on t'other side of the 'all, an' we sat there

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

on the sofa as 'umble as you please. Joey was
just at his wits h'end with jollity, he was. He
squeezed me close around the waist and
said :

" ' Rhoda, my gal, you've struck a soft sit this
time ; this 'ere sofa is meltin' under me, an' the
sparkle of that crystal ganderleer, all lighted up
like a Christmas tree, 'as got into my h'eyes so I
can't see you, Rhoda my dear,' said he. * I'll 'ave
to go by my feelin's or I'll not know you're there,'
said he. And drat the man ; if he didn't squeeze
me so tight, that I could 'ardly breathe, and I
was in the sweetest h'agony, between wanting to
breathe more h'easy like, and not wantin' him to
stop, I was on the 'orns of a jellemma as The
Great would say.

" Then of a sudden Miss Addie and her young
gentleman comes into the room, soft and un-
suspected, and I blushed into the roots of my
'air, I was that shameba!;rhed and confusebar-
rassed, for Joey's h'arm was round my waist
and his mouthe, drat that man, was aperiently
tryin' to go by its feelin's I But Miss Addie'
just coughed a little an' turned her 'ead away,
an' the gentleman coughed a deal 'arder behind
his 'andkerchief, and then Miss Addie said :

" ' This room isn't as warm as it might be. I'm
afraid you'll catch cold, Rhoda. I think you'll

find '*■• '^naior in flio IrifoTion '

imi

(( (

SAINTS, SINNEliS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

* Don't trouble about me, Miss Addie,' I
said. * I'm as comfortable as heiiiiything. But
you needn't go h'out because we'ie 'ere, we'll
keep to our side of the room.' "

." ^"^, ^""^y ^'"^'^SS^d n.y sleeve with a lambish
gnu an said, ' Come h'out of 'ere, I feel like a
Ji elephant in a china-box,' said he. So h'out we
went. Joey is „o 'and for style, an' if I was
ired in the Queen of Ilingland's palace he
would want to do his 'uggin' in the kitchen."

The unexpected was always happening in
Castle Bohemia, and occasioned less surprise
than a continued state of uninterrupted seren-
ity, bo when one morning i,i January, Care-
ful Came entered the library where the other
members of the family were congregated and an-
iiounced that the domestic machinery had come
to a standstill, tli6 information was received
with the utmost equanimity. Addie, who av;is
reclining on a couch among a heap of silken pil-
lows, pencil and paper in hand, added two lines
to the last ver^e she had written, and altered

sublime The Great, standing before his
easel, with a paint-brush behind each ear, and
hishairrising up from his head in a wildly
perturbed manner, worked a little cobalt blue
into the eyes of King William, and touched
up the dimple in his chin.

A DAY m CASTLE BOHEMIA

Crrimes turned Ji page in " The Life of Charles
Dickens," and continued to read with unabated
interest. Tlie famous English novelist was his
favorite comi)anion ; in fact, he made a pet
hobby of him and of late had instituted in liis
library a new department which was devoted
exclusively to this author's works, and a wide
collection of literature relating to him.

Seraph, from principles of policy, feigned
deafness. He was rocking, as usual, and ponder-
ing some scientific inventions that were shaping
themselves in his creative brain, and bade fair
to rank worthily with the latest achievements
of Edison.

Carrie, after several futile attempts to secure
attention, broke out desperately :

" Wilsons all, big and small, listen to my tale
of woe. The cook went home yesterday to
nurse a sick sister, and now Rhoda, who prom-
ised to help with the meals, is laid up with
rheumatism, and declares that she can't do
another stroke of work to-day."

" I knew there would be something the mat-
ter with her," said Addie with conviction.

" Yesterday I saw her meditating over a pa-
tent medicine circular. She never reads the ad-
vertisements wrapped around Her Majesty's
medicine bottles without imagining that she
has everv svmntom nf thp mnljirlv rlA«ov;Vu»d

■4:

SAINTS, SINNKHH Alft) QtfEl^R PKOPLPi.

iwe, and now it is

■OttiL '. '1

Last week it was
rlieuniatism."

" Our Biddies ire the most unreliable creatuies
I ever heard of," said The Great. " If they are
healthy themselves their relati-- - ,„,*^, uy
be sick or dying, and when they happen by
chance to be in a normal condition of active
service, they do more laughing and talking
than an^, Jung else. Where's little Flinpetv
the chore-girl ? " « i-i^ J'>

"flome with her mother," replied Carrie.

^>he wa. afraid she was getting lockjaw with
aughmg so much at Bobbie, and complained
that It hurt hei- to shut lier mouth."

"Surely she didn'f pretend that the difficulty of
closnig her mo.'li was of sudden development,"
said Grimes. " I observed it months ago."

"We ought to have a reserve supply of sr...
ants who could be called in at any time to do
the work Avhen the others are off duty, .suff-
gested Seraph, in hi low '^eep vf o.

"Yes, and pay them ten dollars a month
while they waited, iMi^Bwher-Jike for sicknp-s
ThrWisT ^" ^''^^"•^'^ical idea, u aly \ " said

"Economy is all very well for people ^.ho
are obliged to practise it," co in' d Seraph
argumentati ely, " but we are t, ...d what's
the 1.6 ol saving money I'd like to know ? It

A t)Ar Iff ClASfLE BOUEMIA.

must be spent some time or .vhat's the good of
liiiviiig it? I don't bylieve in doing without
luxuries when it's possible to have them. It's a
mistaken principle."

" Let up, Seraph," admonished Grimes,

" I think it might not be amiss to engage
another servant," remarked Addie ; " we could
easily keep three or four busy in this house, and
we would be less lik' ^y to be left in the lurch
so often."

*' Well, we can advertise, at any rate," sug-
gested The Great, " and make definite arrange-
ments afterwards. I'll write the advertisement,
and Bobbie can take it to the Times office."

He drew a pencil and note-book from his
pocket and scribbled a few lines which he read
aloud.

fii:

;

Vanted ; For general housework, a strong,
Iiealthy ^iil, who is not addicted to excessive
conversation and laughter, or the annoying
habit of becoming suddenly lielpless. Must be
willing to do whuo is .required of her iliont
questions or excuses. Wages no object."

" What about luncheon to-day ? " asked the
younger sister.

" Ordi r it from Riley's by telephone, and
make tea to drink vith it," repln 1 Addie. " 11

wat.." ' *"• ^°" "■-' ''""^ -ood and
The youth thus addressed, who was a nw>.

f l'«jvas long, reluctantly dm<rtred 1,;1 u
Jo»«^ha.and.«a.dedUrUTr

" You're the stoutest, and you reonJrp n.
casional exerci^P f« foi i ''^ requiie tho oc-

-solved to get thin .wi,;'"''™^^^

theSd'^TSjlVe^rT"''''''' '"'^"""^ ■"
«„<■ • X ^^^ '^ chance to think wUh

"ow good Jus fundamental ideas are, if

A i>At tJf CASTLE lidTlEMTA. fl

people are always disturbing him, when his
mind is intent on cranks and springs and electric
currents. Edison couldn't do it, nor anybody
else." There was no heat of anger in liis utter-
ances, but his voice had a note of dreary pes-
simism, sad to hear from one so young and
robust.

" Stop moralizing, Seraph, and go on," said
Grimes, gently applying the toe of his boot to a
conspicuous portion of his brother's trousers.

" Well, there will be a change some time, that's
one comfort," continued the victim of domestic
fluctuations as he put one foot before the other.
"I'm inventing a machine that will attend to
the wood and water business. When I get it in
working order Carrie will have to sing another
tune besides, ' Come, Seraph.' " A gleam of
hope was struggling through the clouds of sad-
ness on his brow iis he slowly wended his way
to the wood-pile.

There was silence once more in the library.

Once a piercing shriek broke the still-
ness which created a temporary disturbance.
Grimes ran to the door to ascertain the cause.

"Bobbie has fallen downstairs," explained
The Wise, endeavoring to gather a pair of lively
legs and arms into her sisterly embrace.

"Oh, is that all? Then hit him," said
Grimes much relieved.

ii:

. !1

'IK

- f :^f

72 SAmtS, sm^miS AND QZTEEIi PEOPLE

" Yes, Lit him and comfort the staii-s," advised
Ihe Great.

Bobbie was composed of an elastic, inde-
stiuctible substance like india rubber, and thoucrh
he possessed to an alarming degree the facuUy
of smashing everything he touched, nothing
seemed hard enough to smash him, or inflict any
visible mark of contact, and the yells which an-
nounced his catastrophes were the result of
inght rather than injury.

After luncheon the family gathered before a
cheerful grate fire in the drawing-room. Thev
were irresponsible young persons with an abun-
dance of leisure which they employed largelv
111 the development of their liobbies, and when
tliey had nothing more imperative on hand they
talked witn a vim and experimental relish which
was thoroughly enjoyable to them, though a
sedate listener who favored artistic reticence
would have chafed under their extravagant
language and the boldness of their premtes.
1 iieir talent for observation was brought to bear
upon themselves as well as upon other people.
Uieytook themselves in hand not seriously
nor yet flippantly, but with a disinterested
psychological inquisitiveness which had no im-
niediate effect, favorable or otherwise, upon
their consciences. Self-knowledge was to them
a voyage of exciting discovery. They analyzed

A i)AY m CASTLE ^OJlEMtA.

their emotions with a tolerant serenity not un-
mixed witli humor, the tliought uppermost in
their minds corresponding with the sentiment:
" How queer we mortals are ! " It had been de-
cided in the family circle that it was the duty
of The Great to make himself famous, and
in this opinion the young fellow reluctantly
coincided.

He had no objection to his chosen destiny,
but the process of making himself famous im-
plied personal responsibility and the active co-
operation of his energies, and he was very much
averse to anything of that sort. The expecta-
tions of liis relatives were a burden to him in
anticipation of possible failure, and besides he
had not made a permanent choice of vocation.

He did not know which of his talents, if
assiduously cultivated, would lead to success,
consequently he gave a little of his time and
attention to all of them. For weeks at a stretch
he would labor under the impression that he
would be an artist, and tiie quantity of canvas
he covered with landscapes, human heads, and
animals, was simply enormous. At other times
he was firmly convinced that he could set the
world on fire as a professional singer, and at
unseasonable hours of the day and night his
rich baritone voice reverberated through Castle
Bohemia.

•. ; f

n SAtm, SmNEltS AND QUjo^n pt:oPtS.

complimented hi.n upon hh singing and m-2
bod o suggest tl.at she should In^VZl

oecamc slightly moderated. At presenf h.
i^|ought of combining the compositic^ of Isic
with portrait painting, tliou-h Im ,

^ionaU.distuv.^dbya'^i^e vironZ
he ,m destined by nature for the stage t

would be a bitter, awakening if afte fi.^ „
wasted time and effort he shfnld d s ovenh^t
he had disobeyed the primal W of lis £
It was eertain also that Addie ought trdis'

S'sSI''"'!"'","'''"^'"^"''"

^al tttht„t ,f rjt' the "■" "'''''% ""^

«,«• • 1 1 ""um not. Mie was cojisiderpd
onginal and elever. even brilliant, but she Wked
mental coneentration, and failed to u.Iite the
X:e"'''^^'""'^''''«'«t^'™tf<'rpe":
Her achievements, such as they were came

101 them. It-,vas evident that she would float
comp aoently „p„n the stream of life, ,v,th l" Ue

long as a smihng sky ,vas above her, and she
was surrounded by the atmosphere of C" f,

love of richly colored life and an impatienof

A BAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA. 75

of monotony, wliioh is one of the penalties of
tlie imaginative nature.

It was evident also that slie would always
follow her instinctive propensities whetliei' tliere
was anything to be gained by it or not. She
would compose pretty verses, interesting little
stories, and dashing variations of popular tunes
to the end of her days, thougli a discerning public
sliould be none the wiser. She was impulsive
and sympathetic, and her manner was charac-
terized by a wholesouled demonstrativeness
wliicli impressed reticent persons unfavorably.

Her pleasures were intoxications, her disap-
pointments, keen-edged sorrows. She was a
veritable child of nature, made of laughter and
tears, moods and caprices. No one could safely
predict anything as to lier ultimate develoi>
ment, there was so much in her personality that
was contradictory.

The Wilsons were ardent admirers of beauty,
and conscientiously made the most of themselves
in this respect.

On this particular af teinoon Addie had donned
a becoming gown of pink crepon, trimmed with
long ends and bows of ribbon, and her black hair
was charmingly arranged upon her shapely head
and set off with a pink rose. There was a con-
fident ease and self-assurance in lier attitudes
which was not becoming in such an uusophis-

11
I

76 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

ticated damsel. She had been told so often that
she was charming and pretty that she accepted
the homage of flattery as a matter of course.

She had been figuring in the lole of a heart-
breaker ever since she had reached the matuie
age of tliirteen, and of late, after many distract-
ing experiences of a tender nature, in which her
. pity for her suffering victims far outweighed
any petty sense pi triumph suggested by tlie
spirit of coquetry, she had begun to think
seriously of marriage as the only escape from
the tragic elements of existence.

Carrie, who was two years younger, had long
since decided that her mission in life was to be
an old maid, a comfort to tlie declining years
of Her Majesty, and King William, and a per-
severing check upon Seraph's laziness and pon-
derosity. But she was much concerned about
her sister's prospects, and considered her case
rather desperate.

A girl who could refuse so many eligible
suitors in so short a time, and that too in the
coolest manner possible, without a heart-throb
or regretful tear on her own account, was in
imminent danger of becoming an unscrupulous
flirt, or of finally mating with the "crooked
stick," which is to be found at the end of the
woods.

Carrie was playing a brilliant waltz on the

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

piano, and Addie was enjoying a lively di.scus-
sion with Grimes and The Great, upon the
subject of idealization in general, and Dickens'
idealization of his sister-in-law in particular,
when the door-bell rang.

The elder sister rose to answer the summons.

"Addie," said The Wise, anxiously, "if it
should be Dick Norris, don't ask him in. If he
hasn't sense enough to accept a refusal that has
been repeated to him five times, snub him delib-
erately and systematically, and leave no room
for doubt about it. His persistency is as hard
ou my nerves as on yours. It isn't pleasant to
be wakened from sleep to hear you sobbing in
your dreams, ' Oh, Mr. Norris. I'm so sorry ! ' I
know you are not half as sorry as you ought to
be, considering how openly you encouraged him,
and I feel like shaking you, and calling him
names."

But the accused n'as out of hearing by this
time, and tlie accuser relapsed into listening
silence. The caller proved to be the Rev. An-
drew Barton, popular young minister of Grace
Church ; there was the sound of Addie's sprightly,
informal greeting and the more precise though
somewliat efT'isive one in deeper, drawling tones.

" lie has oorae to have a word of prayer with
her," remarl od Tlie Great.

^\^

1 1; li

*' T wisb !)«J! wniililn'f.

.1 a

l.lTlfl W

\ih

ill

78 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

increasing apprehension, " I know liow it will
end. He will ask her to come out and see the
moon."

" Not a bit of danger. Tlie Rev. Barton will
do nothing so rash. A girl like Addie, full of
amusing whims and contradictions, a mixture of
tlie sublime and ridiculous, is nothing more than
an interesting problem to him. He is attracted
to her largely fronu interest in her spiritual wel-
fare, and because of her undeveloped possibilities.
He- told me as much one Sunday night as we
walked from church."

" She has been a problem to half a dozen men
and they all solved her in the same way, by
concluding that she was the one being Heaven
had created for theii- special benefit," said
Grimes, who found the world's ways vastly
amusing. « I am glad she had sense enough to
realize that she would be miserable with any
one of them. Why should she think of mar-
riage at her age ? Fancy Addie struggling with
the reins of household government ! Wouldn't
they get into a queer tangle ? "

" Perhaps so," as? nted The Wise, " but we
don't want two old maids in the family."

In the meantime the subj^^ct of these random
comments was convei*sing in a highly edifying
manner with the minister. He complimented
her upon the merits of certain of her verses

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

whicli lie liad seen in print, and earnestly im-
pressed upon her the advisability of dedicating
lier talents to noble service. He spoke humbly
of his own successes in the ministry, and attri-
buted them to entirety of faith and self-surrender.

Hie also evinced a warm interest in each individ-
ual member of the family and finally, as he was
about to take leave, mildly suggested that they
should be summoned into his presence that he
might have the privilege of praying with them.
This was accordingly done.

They entered with meek, subdued footsteps,
Carrie heading the procession and the Seraph,
with his hands in his pockets, bringing up the
rear. The good man prayed long and fervently,
and was in the midst of an eloquent petition
which was far-reaching in its comprehensiveness,
including the whole civilized race, when Bobbie
cautiously opened the door and looked in.

The situation was peculiarly tempting; the
kneeling figures with their backs turned to him,
the preacher with his remote look of spiritual
exaltation.

He slipped softly into the room and looked
about in quest of something to do. The Great
had left his paint-brushes and palette on a table
beside his easel, and Bobbie, who was an artist in
all but opportunity, took advantage of this cir-
cumstance. He dipped a brush into some of t-li©

80 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEVM PEOPLE.

mixture and glanced aiound the room in search
of suitable material for canvas. Then lie spied
the round bald spot on the preacher's head and
rejoiced inwardly ; it was like the china plaques
which Addie painted for Christmas gifts, and he
went to work at it without further loss of time.

The gentleman moved uneasily under the fust
stroke, and as the strange sensation continued,
exhibited great discomfort of body and confu-
sion of mind. Ho concluded that a party of
spidei-s had dropped upon his head and mistiiken
it for a race-course. Horrible thought to a man
of refined sensibilities ! There was nothing to be
done but to curtail his complex rhetoric and make
a dash for tlie closing Amen, with the little
dignity that was possible under such distracting
conditions.

" Lord, bless this family and consecrate their
talents to Thy service. Help us all to be good
and noble, to be patient under trial, to follow
after justice and trutli, to be kind and loving to
the meanest' creatures thou hast made, and "

A loud screani interrupted him. Addie had
intercepted Bobbie in the act of emptying a
bottle of turpentine upon the head of his victim,
and now bore him kicking and struggling from
the room.

"I was painting hairs on the gentlemanVs
]iead," he attested lustily in self-defence, " and

A DAY . : CASTLE BOHEMIA.

the paint got too thick. Can't I paint liaii-s on
the gentleman's head, where the real ones have
come out ? "

There was a moment's embarrassed silence in
the library. The minister coughed, smoothed
down his features with his fingei-s, and in a
tone of deep self-reprcich hurriedly concluded
his petition.

" Lord, foigive us any irreverence of which
wo are involuntarily guilty in Thy presence.
Amen, amen."

Though his instincts of piety were outraged,
his humor was tickled, and he exhibited a spirit
of magnanimity towards the delinquent which
was creditable, considering the provocation he
had received.

" Poor little chap I " he said kindly, " don't
be too hard on him. I've no doubt that his
motive was good. He wished to improve my
appearance, and observing a particular spot
where there was room for improvement — ha, ha,
don't be hard on the little fellow. I was a l)oy
once myself."

Grimes came out into the hall with stern
resolve written upon his countenance. It was he
who was supposed to wield tlie rod of chastise-
ment in the absence of King William. He was
of a cooler temperament and steadier nerve than

»h

i Ij

82 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QCEEIl PEOPLE,

in certai.j portions of liis anatomy without becom-
ing uncomfortably warm and excited liimsclf.

"Where is he?" lie demanded in his loudest
parental voice. "Bring him to me I "

"Will you give him the strap?" asked
Seraph, with evident intciest. lie rather en-
joyed seeing this youngster in the grip of
justice.

" Strap ? No, nor ^the birch stick either. Get
me a bed-slat." But Bobbie was nowhere to
be seen, though they sought him carefully with
seductive threats.

He had rushed precipitately into Khoda's bed-
room and crept Tinder the bed.

"Now, what 'rvvoyou been doin',you precious
hout-an'-h'o, . :•' asked the housemaid ten-
derly. She pi : .;ated a novel spectacle of rheu-
matic disability. Her head was tied up in a shawl,
and a quilt was wrapped around her shmilders.
But the malady with which she was supposed to
be afflicted had evidently not extended to her
fingers, for she was inditing a long letter to Joey.

" Paintin' 'airs on the gentleman's 'eud 1
Well, I never! Gc^od for you, Bobbie! A
spiteful, unpolite man as isn't fit to be
called a gentleman, judgin' by aperiences an'
the style of his languish. Oh, I 'card him, I
did, though little did he think it. I m not so
bad with rheumatism but what I can work my

* 1%4

.1 DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

way to tlif top of tlie stairs when liennythiii'
lively seems to be goin' on. An I 'earn him
say right li'out as bold an' Liashenas you please,
'Elp us to love that meanest creatuio the 'ouse-
maid.' I was as mad as a vt '. 'an for very
little I'd 'ave gone down just im an' given

him a piece of my intellect. I'd 'ave said:

" IJeggin' pardon forbein' out of sight when my
name is took in vain. I don't want none of your
lo\ nor your impidence either. What do you
mean by talkin' like that about a real suspectable
girl who never did nothing to you ? Mean I
maybe, unknownst to myself like many h'an-
other who is born of woman an' bruised by the
serpent, an' 'as to fight the lion that goes roarin'
about like Satan, an' keep the 'eavenly jail in
view. But to call me the ' meanest', that's cappin'
the climax with a cap too big for it. It's in-
fl^ammation of character, that's what it is, an' as
such you could be took up an' put through the
sentonce. I guess that would 'ave settled
him."

Bobbie's mind wm too actively exercised
with thoughts of the impending " bed-slat " to
respond appreciatively.

" Which one of the preachers was it, Bob-
bie?" she asked, after a moment's wrathful
contemplation of her unmerited injury. "The
old one, or the younij colic who does the talkin'

i>\

I i

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

14.

USA
IM

■ 4.0

10
1.8

^ APPLIED IM^GE I,

1653 East Main Street

Rochester, New York 14609 USA

(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

(716) 288-5989 -Fax

84 SAmTS, SlNN^nS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

When the old one is away ? They're both on 'em
oaid as dodgers."

" The young one," replied Bobbie in a whisper.
'Oh, indeed!" exclaimed the house-maid with

, lofty scorn. "The 'andsome gentleman with
the mobile mouth an' the alkaline nose, ^

, goes by tlie name of * Barton.' Well, if h'ever
I saw such a onconsistent colic of the gospel I
He beggars all presca-iption, as Tlie Great
would say. I may be a 'ouse-maid an' aperiently
thats what I am, oil the outside, but inside
1 m just the same as any h'other suspectable
person.

"Just the same. I 'ave my good points
an my bad ones. My temper is unvariable
like other folks's. I 'ave my uprisings an'
downsittmgs, maybe I rise higher 'an sit down
arder than some folks. I can't say as to
that, but I do say an' I will say, if it was
to be my last word this side the river Jordan

an the lake of gnashin' teeth an' brimstone, that
ousemaid or no 'ouse-maid, I'm just the same

inside as any preacher, an' it's not for any bald
eaded colic to call me * the meanest creature'

no matter what he's got agin the general run

of oune-maids, of which I am one, an' not

asliam, d of it neither.

"But man is born green as the grass of the field,

hke the grass he comes up, an' like the grass he

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

sliould be cut, so says the Scriptures, Bobbie,
an' there's trutli in it. There's only one ex-
ception to that Bible rule. Guess who it is,
there's a dear, — come out from under the bed,
nothin' can 'urt you while Rhoda is 'ere — guess
who it is."

"Is it The Great?" asked the little fellow,
emerging from his hiding-place.

" No, it's a greater than The Great, in my
'umble opinion, as shouldn't be so bold as to
say it."

"Is it Joe Smith?"

" That's who it is, you blessed h'out-an'-h'outer.
My Joey, as stands four feet eight in his boots
an' calls me the *queen of his 'eart.' He comes
up like the busy bee seekin' sweets he may de-
vour, an' goes away in low spirits ; *cause time
is so short when we're together an'so long when
we're separate. You're goin', are you ? Well,
take care of yourself. Come and tell me if
there's any more queer 'appenin's, ; and I say,
Bobbie, tell them to order plum-puddin' an'
mince turnovers for dinner. Mince meat is very
conjestible an' a sure cure for rheumatism."

Downstairs the conversation was resumed
which had been interrupted by the arrival of
the unfortunate young minister.

" What is idealization ? " asked Addie "ten-
tatively.

86 SAINTS, siNysiis And qxt^j^r people.

" The act of creating beauty and using it to
clotlie the souls of those we love. We all have
our ideals, our standards of excellence, no matter
how faulty we may be ourselves, and this ab-
stract beauty must centre itself upon some human
object more or less worthy to be idealized, or
else torture us forever with its elusiveness. It
is not enough to know that such perfection
exists somewhere in unattainable particles;
that is too remote aiid unsatisfactoiy, we desiie
to make it a part of ourselves and invest our
lives with some of its reflected splendor, by
intimate contact." T!>e Great was always
veiy much in earnest when endeavoring to ex-
pound liis crude theories, and gesticulated
eloquently with his right hand.

" I should think that intimate contact Avould
dispel the illusion, for of course there is no
such thing as absolute perfection," said Grimes.
" That's one reason why I would rather not
marry. I am afraid that some of my pretty ideas
about women would get a sad shock of awaken-
ing after marriage. I would rather be a cheer-
ful bachelor kneeling at the shrine of an ideal
woman, than a cynical benedict burdened with
a •small-minded, gossiping wifa."

" Wrappers that hang loose from the neck,
and a trimming of curl-papers on a woman's

A DAY tN CASTLE hOItmttA.

forehead would finish me," said Seraph so sol-
emnly that they all lauglied in chorus.

The door-bell rang and Addie rose instantly.
A slight, Saxou-complexioned young gentle-
man stepped into the vestibule. He was smartly
dressed, but his face was pale and agitated.

" Are you engaged, Miss Wilson ? " he asked
with nervous formality.

"No, Mr. Norris, not particularly," she replied,
wi^h a twinge of remorse as she observed tlie
ravages which a hopeless affection had made in
his once glowing countenance. She led him
into one of the small parlors and attempted to
guide him cautiously into impersonal discoui-se,
but he resisted manfully and closed his lips
when she spoke of the weather.

" I came because I was so lonely and wretched,"
he burst out impetuously, " and you kilow it is
soma comfort to see you and talk to you, even
though you d'>r't care anything about me."

" Don't say that, Mr. Norris. You know I do
care for you very much as a friend." Her bril-
liant eyes were tarned on him with a responsive
sympathy whicli tended to aggravate his depres-
sion. He was twenty-three years of age, and
this was his first love-affair. It affected him so
unhappily that he was physically and mentally
unable to follow his usual practical pursuits.
Solitude goaded him to madness, and his only

^8 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLS.

relief, an unsatisfactory one at best, was found
m the free outpouring of his misery into the ears
of the liard-li(iarted cliarmer who liud repeatedly
declared tliatshe would not marry him.

" Oh, Addie ! You don't know what it is to
suffer as I do, or you would have more pity,"
he said brokenly, looking at her with tear-
dirame^' eyes. " I can't sleep or eat oi think.
There's only one person in the world and that's
you. I see and hear you every hour of the
day. I can't pretend to go around among the
boys and girls as I used to do and enjoy myself
in the old way. Everything is changed— horri-
bly changed. I seem to be walking alone, in
a shadow."

"I'm so sorry, Dick," she said, her voice lin-
gering on hi^ Christian name which sounded
sweet to him from her lips. « Isn't there any
cure for it but reciprocity and marriage ? " she
asked with unconscious irony.

"None that I know," he replied dismally.
" It gets worse all the time. The more I try
to escape from it the more securely it binds and
hurts me. But of course there's no use in trying
to explain it to a person who has never had it."

''You'll get over it," she said soothingly,
** the others did, all accept Arthur Dean, and
he "

" I don't wish to hear about the othera,** he

A DAT IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

Interrupted hoarsely. " Some fellows -^et a sutl-
den fancy in their heads and call it love, and
they forget it in a short time, but I'm not like
that, I wish I was."

There was a long silence between them, then
Addie said briskly :

" Well, you'll stay and dine with us, and try
to be cheerful? It makes me uncomfortable to
see you in such a state about a gay, foolish girl
like me."

" Gay ? Yes, but not foolish. Don't try to
depreciate yourself in my eyes. You can't do
it. Whether you love me or not you must always
be my ideal of all that is sweet and beautiful,
tender and womanly."

" Oh, dear ! " she exclaimed mentally, " there
it is again — the extravagant idealization of weak
human nature."

" But I may as well stay if you will be so
kind as to endure my depression. I have noth-
ing to do and nowhere to go. I hate all kinds
of jollity. I can't sit alone in my rooms and
brood. It makes me feel like committing
suicide. Oh, Addie, don't you think you could
learn to love me a little ? I'm not such a bad
sort of a fellow and my heart is as big as the
ocean. But forgive me for worrying you with
my troubles. I'll try to be man enough to bear
them in silence."

90 sAmrs, siNirms and queer people.

At this critical moment so full of dramatic
possibilities, the noble expression of liis face
was lost in a sudden convulsion. He sneezed
four times in rapid succession and struggled with
a fit of coughing.

Before Addie had time to conjecture as to
tlie cause of tliis singular performance slie was
overcome by a similar paroxysm of sneezino-,
coughmg, and choking. In the midst of it the
tears started to hei^ eyes and rolled down her
cheeks.

He was by her side in an instant endeavoring
to calm her agitation.

"You are crying, Addie," he said, tenderly
triumpliant. " Your pity is akin to love. You
can't disguise your ti-ue feelings any longer.
Your emotion betrays you."

" It isn't emotion," slie gasped, struggling for
breath. '^ I think— I tliink it is pepper."
" Pepper ! " lie repeated blankly.
" Yes, pepper and Bobbie ! " Slie opened the
door quickly and there stobd Her Majesty's
Infant, caught in the act of blowing red pepper
into a paper funnel which was inserted in the
keyhole.

Tliere was no possibility of evading the law
this time. Grimes came promptly upon the
scene and marched the culprit up two flights of
stairs to tlie attic, that the softening effect of

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA,

distance upon bound, might prevent the suffer-
ing whicli would otherwise accrue to the nerves
of tlie innocent. From this lofty locality a
peculiar commotion was observed to emanate,
resembling the beating of hail and rain upon
loose shingles to the accompaniment of wind
squalls.

During the afternoon several young people
dropped in unceremoniously, greeting the
Wilsons Avith a hearty, voluble cordiality which
was far removed from conventional stiffness, and
intimating their willingness to bestow upon
them the pleasure of their compjiny for an in-
definite period, at least for the remainder of the
day. Soon the home party included a large
addition of informal guests, two girl cousins,
and a maiden aunt whose milk of human kind-
ness had soured in thunder-storms of disappoint-
ment, and who enjoyed herself in her sister's
home because of a comfortable conviction that
those dreadful children were rushing headlong
to destruction, and that their fate would have
been different if William Wilson had chosen
her for his helpmate instead of "poor delicate
Victoria ; " also Minerva Berry, the confidential
chum of Tlie Wise, Miss Dobson, a pretty girl
who was suspected of entertaining a tender
weakness for The Great, and lastly Mr. Rod-
erick Hilliard, a handsome, blue-eyed English-

92 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

man who liad frankly declared that the Wilson
family was the only ameliorating circumstance
which reconciled him to Canada. He said the
fHmily, but everybody knew that he meant
/- .(die.

The fraidcness which was his predominant
quality was so largely blended with youthful
simplicity that certain young men about town
envious, no doubt.of his physical dimensions,
which were perfect, took pleasure in circulating
the impression that he was " fresh."

" I must apologize for coming on my own in-
vitation," he said, as he liung his cap and over-
coat on the hat-rack, « but really, you know,
Miss Wilson, it's so awfully jolly h^re, and a
tellow gets so down-hearted in a boarding-house
Please tell me that I am welcome and that you
don't think I am an awful bore. I'll be ever so
good if you'll let me stay."

Addie received him with gracious words and
smiles, and conducted him into the drawina.
room. °

Mr. Norris accepted his presence with scorn-
ful tolerance, regarding him suspiciously from
the corner of his eye.

They all remained to dinner which, thanks to
Riley's catering ability and the services of two
workmg-giils who had been called in at the last
moment^ was excellent in every respect. The con-

A DAY IN CASTLE liOllEMIA.

versatioii as usual was of tliu liveliest dcscriptiou,
full of briglit iniaginatioii aud lepaitee, thougli
sometimes rather too persohvi to be in good

taste.

•

The only unsociable persons at the table
were Mr. Norris and the maiden aunt. The
former neither ate nor talked, and eyed the com-
pany with a sad, patient unresponsiveness, as if
he considered it a misfortune to be obliged to
witness such a pitiable display of frivolity, in a
world which he knew to bo groaning Avith its
weight of tragic misery.

The maiden aunt made a hearty meal which
was :ione the less agreeable to her palate be-
cause of the mournful liead-shakings in which
she felt called upon to indulge from time to time.

Once she looked thoughtfully at Mr. Noriis
who sat beside her, and made a remark apparently
apropos of nothing.

" Oh, the wrecks that are strewn all along life's
pathway ! "

" I believe you," he replied, " I'm one of them."
*' Miss Wilson, you like to be amused, don't
you ? " asked Mr. Hilliard glibly. « You can
appreciate a good joke? "

" Yes, I think I can," said Addie. « There
is nothing I like better than to be amused. I
go about sometimes with a sense of positive in-
jury at the hands of m^ fellow-creatures, b^-

'1*

94 SAINTS, SINNMiS AN J) QUEElt PEOPLE.

cause tliey will persist in tail.ing to me soberly
and seriously when I want to ]>v3 annised. Sad
l)eoplo can amuse mu as mucli as funny ones ;
that is, if they are extremely and unreasonably
sad. But a person wlioso manner and convei-
sation lack lustre between tlie two extremes, is
apt to weary me."

" Balderdash ! " said the maiden aunt under
her breath. ■,

"Don't I" entreated Mr. Norris in a whisper.
" You don't understand her."

" Well, I heard a capital conundrum lastniglit,"
resumed young Ililliard. "I've been full of it
all day, anticipating the pleasure of repeating it
to you. It is really good, you know, the point
is so clear and the idea so amusing. Yon may
have lieard it before, it isn't new, I believe, but
at any rate I am glad of an opportunity of con-
vincing you that an Englishman can see a joke
and appreciate it as thoroughly as any-
body."

He chuckled to himself and glanced at the ex-
pectant faces of his audience with the sly, know-
ing look of a man who is keeping guard over a
delightful surprise. Then he said with slow,
deliberate distinctness, lingering significantly
on each word :

" Why is grim death like a tin can tied to a
dog's tail?"

A DAY TN CASTLE BOtlEMlA.

Tliey considered the question in silence for
some moments.

" Will you give it up?" he asked laughingly.

" No, never," replied several voices.

" I think I have the answer," said the maiden
aunt quietly, with an air of modest deprecation
of her own astuteness. " Because it is en-
tailed."

"Entailed, Auntie, what does that mean?"
asked Addie.

"It ought to be clear enough," said Mids
Green with dignity. "Death was entailed upon
our race by the fall of Adam. I am sure no
better answer can be found. I don't approve of
conundrums myself," she added, in a monotone
of indifference.

" Tliat isn't the answer, is it, Mr. Hilliard ? "
asked one of the guests.

" No, better give it up. The answer is — ha !
ha ! ha ! — " He threw himself back in his
chair and laughed immoderately — " ha ! ha !
ha I Because it is tied to a pup."

" I don't see where the joke comes in," said
Grimes.

" Nor I," said several others in chorus.

" It's tied to a pup, don't you understand ? "
gasped Hilliard, going off into another con-
vulsion.

*» That's cjear enough/' returned The Great,

93 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

"but vvhereia lies the resemblance between the
tin can and grim death ? "

" It is entailed," murmured Miss Green, nod-
ding her head sagaciously.

Mr. Hilliard became suddenly sober, and
rubbed his liead in some perplexity. He thouglit
it was rather hard lines to be asked to explain
his jokes, though he was constrained to admit
that there was an elusive abstruseness about this
one which called for some elucidation.

" Well, well ! That's queer, isn't it ? " he said
in a baffled tone. "I saw the point quite
clearly last night, but now "

"Oh, I've got it!" exclaimed Addie and
Seraph simultaneously, the former with her
quick speech came out ahead. " Because it is
bound to a cur. Bound to occur ! Yes, that is
good."

Several of them laughed, but rather feebly, the
prolonged strain upon tlieir curiosity having
blunted the spontaneity of their humorous per-
ception. Ml*. Hilliard made no pretence of tliat
sort. He had that quelling sense of the inade-
quacy of laughter which comes to a man when
he has been so unfortunate as to laugh in the
wrong place.

The Great had not been so delightfully en-
tertained for a long time. His eyes brimmed
with irrepressible amusement.

I
.f,

A DAT IN CASTLE BOHEMIA. 97

" Bravo, Hilliard ! " he said, slapping the crest-
fallen young fellow on the back. " We absolve
you from the verdict of obtuseness in the matter
of a joke. We go even farther and deny that it
is a characteristic of your countrymen. It is a
base libel, and we will throw it back between
the teeth of the man who dares to utter it in our
presence. Bravo, I say, you have redeemed the
reputation of your country."

" Thanks, it's awfully kind of you t. ly so,"
returned Ililliai-d brightening. " I'm sorry 'l
got it a little bit mixed."

"You did, a little bit," murmured The Great,
still regarding him with tender admiration.
" It rather spoiled the effect, you know."
"Not at all, my dear fellow, it heightened it
immensely." But Miss Green was not satisfied,
and as they repaired to the drawing-room she
made a stubborn movement of her lips, address-
ing nobody in particular.

"My interpretation was more appropriate.

The reference to the dog's appendage "

" Sh ! sh ! Auntie. Be delicate, be proper ! "
whispered The Great who happened to be near
her.

She gave him a withering glance and sniffed
the air contemptuously.

The band-wagon was soon in full blast.
Grimes played on the violin, The Great ams
7

98 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

two jovial sailor songs to his own accom-
paniment on the guitar, Seraph gave a dra-
matic recitation, and the two sisters performed
brilliant executions on the piano. Several of
the guests also contributed their quota to the
fund of entertainment, but Hilliard could not bo
pressed into service. He preferred to rest on
his laurels and listen.

By some instindtive sympathy Miss Green was
attracted to Mr. Norris, and made him the un-
willing recipient of her mournful confidences.

"Not one of those children knows wliat it is
to be trained," she said, with excessive emphasis.

He replied that he did not see that they were
any the worse for that.

"Tlie worse! They are ruined! ruined!
ruined / "

The shadow of a smile flitted across Dick's
stoical face. Ah, if he were permitted to be-
come one of the family by marriage, how gladly
would he participate in the general overthrow !

"If Providence had decreed that I should
be the mother of a family," she continued, " I
would be too keenly alive to my responsibilities
to drag out my existence In a half dying state
and allow my children to spring up like that
scandalous little nigger Topsy. But poor dear
Victoria has no energy or ambition. Wlien
I approach her on the subject, she throws up her

A DAY IX CASTLE BOltEMtA.

(

hands and exclaims, 'Polly, don't come near
me with your direful prophecies, you aggravate
my worst symptoms. It is all that I can do to
keep alive when surrounded by cheerful com-
pany.'

" Cruel words to hear from an only sister, Mr.
Norris, and at a time when I was sacrificing
my own feelings on the family altar. But the
world is full of such cruelty."

Poor Norris sighed heavily. He had no sym-
pathy witli her grievance, but her apparent dis-
content was additional evidence to him that
there was something radically wrong in the con-
stitution of affairs. But he was too much ab-
sorbed in his own afflictions to find suitable words
of condolence. He made a wry face and said
with lugubrious cheerfulness :

Death will put an end to it all some time."
Yes, yes ! " murmured Miss Green, adding
as if seized with a sudden inspiration, " It is
entailed."

" Now Miss Wilson will sing for us," said Mr.
Hilliard, " You will favor us, I am sure ?" bend-
ing over her in an attitude of gallant supplica-
tion.

She acquiesced readily, too readily, thought
the maiden aunt, who soliloquized audiblj^:
*' Girls should be like the modest violets, hiding
away, hiding away."

((

100 SAmri sinners and queer People.

Addie possessed a sweet, sympathetic soprano
voice, and had been accustomed to sing on con-
cert pL^tforms since she was twelve years old.
Her selections on this occasion were "Mar-
guerite," and "Auld Robin Gray," and she did
full justice to the pathetic sentiment of these
well-known ballads.

"Capital, Mis^ Wilson I" exclaimed the
Englishmpn when she had finished. « You must
have a heart to be able to sing like that."

" Have you been tempted to doubt that fact ? "
she asked coquettishly.

"Well, yes, rather, you know," he returned
witli his usual guileless candor.

" Sing something of your own composition,
Miss Wilson," requested Mr. Norris. Music of
any sort jarred horribly on his suffering senses,
but he wasn't going to allow Milliard to have
exclusive control of the situation.

"I have a little song here which I composed
this morning," rejoined Addie, "but I must
tell you before I sing it that it isn't the least
bit classical. I composed the tune first, and
I tliink you'll all agree with me that it isn't
half bad, but the words are very crude and lack-
ing in refinement. You see my muse was
cramped by the necessity of shaping the verses
to fit the tune. I can write poetri/ when I like,
but this is trash from a literary point of view, .

(

A DAY IN CASfLE BOHEMIA.

101

( j

though it embodies a deplorable truth. It is
called ' Come out and see the Moon.' I should
like the help of the violin and guitar in the
chorus. It is in the key of €, boys."

Grimes and The Great, wlio were accus-
tomed to play by ear, struck the right chords
on their instruments and told her to go ahead.
She settled hei-self at the piano and after a few
lively notes of prelude, looked dreamily up at
tlie ceiling and sang the following sentimental
ditty.

The strangest thing that e'er I know is happening all

the time,
It is a mixture of the sweet, the tragic, and sublime ;
Oh, scarce a week goes o'er my head but some man says

to me,
In tones of ardent rapture and poetic ecstacy,
" Come out and see the moon."

Chorus.

The moon, the moon, the silver moon,

She shines in the sky above.
But well I know that the Queen of Night

Is in league with the God of Love.

I look upon her tranquil face as oft I've done before.
And while I gaze my escort tries to teach me Cupid's

lore ;
The moonshine steals into his biain and shimmers on his

breath,
He vows unless I'll maiTy him, he'll woo an awful death

102 SAlYfs, sm^mtS ANb QtTEEIi PEOPm.
I love the beauties of the night, the darkness soft and

^""^ ^and Wirr'^'''"' ^"^""^^"^ ^^^'^ ™P« ^^^ ^^1«
I love earth's drowsy murmurs and the star bespangled

• ^"* ^ why- * '^^ ^^^^^"^ "'''''''' ^""^ ^""^^ *^' ""^°°
There's danger 'neaththe moon.

I am a shy and tiniid maid, and shrink from Fate's

firm touch,
rd rather never love at all than love a man too much •

My freedom .s a priceless boon, from which I dread t'o
part,

And so I fortify my will and bid my trembling heart
Resist the artful moon.

It is irapossible to describe the manner of the
young singer, the languisliing sentimentality,
naive humor, and plaintive appeal which spoke
in her eyes, voice, and every attitude of her
small black head, which was tilted siicrhtly up-
ward from her slender throat like the head of a
bird. The tune was exceedingly pretty and
catchy, and when the boys joined their voices to
the ringing timbre of violin and guitar the effect
was electrical.

Mr. Billiard and Mr. Norris were uncomfort-
ably self conscious, and studiously avoided look-
ing at each other, or meeting the eyes of any of
the company. The former was so fearful lest
his natural ingenuousness should betray his

A DAY 7i\r CASTLE BOHEMIA. 10^

State of mind, that he turned his back to every-
body and gave his whole attention to a painting
which hung on the wall.

There was loud applause at the close of this
audacious performance, but the maiden aunt
took no part in it. She covered lier face with
her handkerchief and breathed into it as if it
were a phonograph :

" Oh, Victoria ! Victoria ! I blush for the fol-
lies of your children."

Mr.Norris made his way through tlie room to
the side of the piano, and leaning over it fixed
his solemn eyes on Addie with a look of re-
proach.

" Who wants to deprive you of your freedom ? "
he asked in an injured tone.

" You do," she replied, smiling up at him.

" Oh, no ! You misunderstand me. There is
more freedom in a true marriage than "

But slie waived the point with a careless
shrug of her shoulders. A little later they all
dispersed, promising to come again unexpectedly,
and carrying away with them the assurance that
they were always welcome in Castle Bohemia.

The Great laid a detaining hand on young
Hilliard and begged of him not to forget to
bring another humorous conundrum or anecdote
with him next time he came. The poor fellow,

who was alreadv siiffp.n'no- fii« »^^^«i.«.„ „.v-'-i-
./■ '*••'& '^^"'j pcii«,ii,y wnioii

104 SAiNtS, 8iNI^£:tiS AND QUEER PEOPLE,

attaches to jokers, laughed and blushed as he
responded :

" I'll do my best, Wilson, but 'pon honor it
isn't fair to expect me to joke all the time, don't
you know."

Norris lingered behind the others and was tlie
last to leave.

" I'll not ask ybu to come out and see the
moon," he said, after holding Addie's hand
longer than was necessary ar.d gazing at her
through humid mist. "It is too cold to-night."

After the boys had retired, Addie and The
Wise held a serious family conclave before the
open fire in the library. The elder sister, after
enjoying the evening's amusements to the utmost
was experiencing a sudden reaction. She was un-
accountably depressed. Perhaps the sepulchral
manner of Mr. Norris, who regarded himself as
the hapless victim of her charms, had something
to do with it, or it may have been that the part-
ing touch of her aunt's cold finger tips had trans-
mitted some chilly forebodings, or again, it may
have been that she had a secret misgiving as to
the prudence of some of her words and actions
during the evening.

She was frequently a prey to the self-in-
flicted torture of an idealistic mind thwarted
by ungoverned impulse. She had no desire
to be just like other people, or to stifle with-

(i,

A DAY 1^ CASTLE BOHEMIA. 106

in herself the exhilarating originality which
flowed so freely in her veins. Slie liad long
since decided that the majority of liuman be-
ings were dull and uninteresting, a burden to
themselves and to others. But she had an in-
satiate desire for the good opinion of every
one.

Two days previous a dear friend had informed
her— it is always our dear friends who tell
us such things— that she was considered a
heartless, unscrupulous flirt, and this thought
was burning in her breast like a coal of fire.

"Carrie, there must be a change in this
household," she said suddenly. « We are be-
coming demoialized. Luxury and laziness are
undermining our principles."

" Speak for yourself, my dear, my morals and
principles are as sound as the Arminian doc-
trine."

The Wise liked to philosophize comfort-
ably. She was seated at a small table drawn
close to the fire, eating thin sliced bread and
butter with onions and vinegar. Such a diet
would not have been permitted by Her Majesty,
who had a singularly susceptible nose. Prob-
ably this was one reason why her youngest
daughter partook of the impromptu supper with
such relish.

"There must be a chano-fi ! " i-pn^af'^rl A/i/i;^

106 SAII^fS, SlNNJiHiS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

" Do you know 1 have almost resolved to get
marrietl."

" It would settle you certainly."
" That's my idea exactly. I want to get
settled. I am beginning to weary of the aim-
lessness of my life. I am too happy and com-
fortable for my own good. If I were obliged

to work and worrj^ a little bit, for instance "

" You would die."

" No, I would rise equal to emergencies, and
adapt myself to hard conditions like a— like a
man. You would be surprised."

" Surprised ? Well, yes. I would be struck
dumb with astonishment. I know you couldn't
do it. Are you thinking of uniting with a
laboring man who earns a dollar a day? "
" How would a minister do?"
" Addie Wilson ! " exclaimed The Wise, lift-
ing her hands in consternation. « Don't dream
of such a thing. Such a marriage might raise
you a little nearer Heaven, for it can't be easy
to be a sinner when the other half of you is
a saint. But look at the temporal side of the
question. You have never been taught to econ-
omize, you don't know the value of money, you
couldn't keep yourself clothed on a minister's
salar^r, you would be out at elbows and toes—
oh, my goodness, never mention it again."
Addie sighed and fell into reverie.

A DAY IN CASTLE BOHEMIA.

107

There was a long silence. The clock on the
mantel ticked drowsily. The fireliglit flickered
upon two pretty, wistful faces. The tlower-
like, pansy-eyed countenance of The Wise wjis
less ethereal than it had been upon other oc-
ctisions, owing no doubt to her unpoetic occupa-
tion » When she pushed her plate back a few
moments later, her expression was angelic.

"1 wonder how we will turn out?" said Addie
thoughtfully. " We seem to be such a queer
family in some ways. Tlie dear old dad dotes
on us, and Her Majesty loves, scolds, and prays
for us as mucli as her health will permit, but
we are left so much to our own devices."

" Well, no matter how we turn out, one thing
is sure, we will always love one another forever
and forever."

They kissed in silence, and walked upstairs,
with their arms around each other.

' 1 1

NANNY.

The Baxtei-s were thoroughly Canadian by
birth and environment. The wliole eou,>.e of
their quiet, uneventful lives had transpired in
Uiu. 10, though not always in one section of it
To them, Canada formed the largest portion of
the n,ap of the world; it was the main pivot
whiel, held together other peoples and countries
of the globe which ^yere as remote as the stars.
It never occurred to them to seek to better them-
selves by allying their interests with any other
country, though the one of their nativity and
preference had failed to lift them out of the
grinding mill ot jDoverty.

When Manitoba was booming financially and
advertising its unlimited possibilities to a credu-
lous, awe-struck world, there was a tidal wave
of emigration thither, in the vicinity where the
Baxters livea, but tb.y observed it indifferently,
bidding good-bye to l^n^n and neighbors with'
out one particle ot m ^re to follow their ex-

NANNY,

109

ample. In tlicir views and metliocls of life tliey
were strictly conservative.

John Baxter, the head of the liousehold, was
a carpenter o.i a small scale, but by no means an
expert at his trade, lie was apt to be slow and
heavy in his movements— the result, no doubt,
of a lethargic temperament and a cumbersome
equipment of flesh.

lie had a stuffy little workshop adjoining his
house, where lie was supposed to receive orders
for odd jobs of a specific nature, but as his
prices were exorbitantly higli, and the length of
time required for these manual feats incredibly
long, his customers were not numerous, and lliey
did not liesitate to speak disparagingly of his
shambling methods of business, when opportu-
nity presented itself.

Yet his mind, though it had been accustomed
to work in narrow grooves, was not as slow as
his body. In some ways, where physical exer-
tion was not demanded of liim, he could display
marked resolution and prompt activity, which
V ould leave many a shrewd merchant with a fat
bank account gasping for breath. Indeed, his
stern immovability in matters of opinion, wheth-
er relating to innovations of the Town Coun-
cil, politics, creeds, or morals, was so well known
by his neiglibors and fellow workmen, that it
gave him a sort of prestige among them, and it

no SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE, '

was not uncommon for them to remark in refer-
ence to liim :

" You can't budge Baxter when his mind is
made up. No mule tlnit ever lived can be so
all-fired stubborn as lie can, when he takes the
notion."

Judging from all accounts detailed by author-
ities of unquestionable veracity, he took this
"notion " rather frequently, and was generally
to be found on tlie opposite side of any argu-
ment which received the affirmative convictions
of the majority. But as he was a devout church-
membei-, with correct and rigid views of man's
moral lesponsibility, his opinions always carried
weight, and so far from condemning his per-
verse ways, people were more inclined to speak
of them with a touch of respectful admiration.

He made long prayers at the Wednesday night
meetings, in a loud, pompous voice that had at
times a querulous undertone, as if he had some
fault to find with the Lord which he could not •
adequately express in words, but which prevent-
ed him from speaking as cheerfully as he would
otherwise like to do.

Humanity of the most abject description was a
characteristic feature of these petitions. " Poor
miserable sinners ; worms of the dust, unwor-
thy even to lift our eyes," were favorite phases
in his vocabulary of devout language. No one

'Id

NANNY.

Ill

had ever accused him of being a hypocrite ; to
do him justice, he was honest and sincere, and
his views differed from those of other people
not from any innate muleishness, but because,
with self-complacent egotism, he invariably be-
lieved that he was right.

Mrs. Baxter was not so well known as her
larger half. She was a reticent little woman
who stayed quietly at home, occupying her time
with the manifold cares of housework and
motherhood, of which she had more than an or-
dinary sliare. Her neighbors found it difficult
to get acquainted with her, and as a rule, aban-
doned tlic project after a few unsuccessful at-
tempts.

There was not a few of both sexes who cher-
ished the susj)icion tliat she was undeserving of
an alliance with a man of John Baxter's noble
character, and they wondered if it were not a
great grief to him that she did not interest her-
self more conspicuously in church affaii-s. True,
she attended service regularly enough when
her health and the weather permitted, but no
one had ever heard her make an audible prayer
or relate a religious experience. So it was small
wonder that those who interested themsel\^es in
her spiritual concerns, were at a loss to know
how to place her.
The Baxters were a poor family, obliged tp

m
)?i"i

fcl i

112 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Stint and economize at every turn. The jjrob-
lem of how to keep the six little Baxters re-
spectably clothed for school, without incurring
debt, was by no means an easy solution . Nanny,
the eldest, a pretty, bright girl, strikingly su-
perior in every way to her sordid surroundings,
was obliged, by imi^ecunious circumstances, to
forego further educational advantages, and be-
come apprenticed to a dressmaker at the tender
age of fifteen ; and a year later, the greatest
trouble and misfortune that could possibly have
happened to any family, high or low in social
sfjliere, shed its baneful gloom over the Baxters.
Nanny supplied one more record in the world's
history of tlie old, old story of man's delibeiate
wiles, and woman's weak credulity, by elo2)ing
witli a gay commercial traveller who had amused
himself, by passing as a single gentleman, wlien
it was well known in masculine circles that he
had a legally wedded wife. The scandal was
discussed, ventilated, and magnified by scores
of eager tongues.

Everybody had something to say about it;
some condemned the mother for not guarding
the ^iii more closely, though tliere was no pos-
sible proof that she had been lax in this respect ;
others said that it Avas a strange dispensation
of Providence that this misfortune should fall
to tlie lot of a righteous man like Baxter, but;

■■*«

) s'

i u

NANNY.

113

f 1

amidst all the various opinions, the exaggerated
statements, the calumny and reproach, there
was a general and predominating sentiment of
sympathy for the stricken family.

Only one woman had been heard to say, " that
it would take some of the pride out of the stuck-
up Mrs. Baxter;" only one man was mean
enougli to express the conviction that it " served
Baxter right for his pig-headedness, guessed he
wouldn't be so high and mighty after this."

Ills fellow-workmen all agreed that Baxter
was hard hit ; and that the chances were that
he would never hold up his head again. The
prophecy gained in likeliliood by his subsequent
conduct.

He had never been jovial, but now he seldom
talked more than was actually necessary. In-
stead of the long argumentative discourses he
was apt to indulge in with certain of his congen-
ial cronies, he had only curt replies and stilted,
commonplace remarks about such indifferent
topics as the crops and the weather. In one
or two rare instances, however, he broke through
the barriers of liis reserve, and talked and lament-
ed about the "bitter disgrace" as he called it.

It got whispered around, somehow, that the day

after Nanny eloped, leaving the letter on the

table which said that she was going away with

the man she loved, and hoped he would marry
8 V

S'.Jlil

114 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

her, Jolm Baxter had laid liis head on the coun-
ter of Joe Beamster's harness shop and cried like
a baby. It was understood in a general way
that lie sorrowed thus deeply more for the blot
upon the hitherto unblemished family name,
than for any specific regrets about Naimy ;
though it was surmised that he had a fair share
of parental affection, and cared for this incon-
siderate prodigal as much as it was in his power
to care for any one.

As for the mother, she never opened her lips
on the subject ; no one had ever seen her shed
a tear, or heard her heave a sigli. She went on
steadily with her work from day to day, with a
hard-set face, and was almost rude in her treat-
ment of her neighbors who came with a vague
idea of trying to sympathize.

They being ever ready to judge from the ex-
terior, and not sufficiently versed in the strange
disguises of emotion to penetrate her mask, went
away saying hard things of her. How could
they know that every word rising up with steely
precision from their own untroubled hearts,
reacted on Mrs. Baxter's acute sensitiveness
like the sharp edge of a knife, turning in an open
wound.

It is seldom that a practical, unimaginative
people can express sympatliy acceptably and witli
a genuine ring of sincerity, in reference to

NANNY.

115

troubles which have never invaded the precincts
of their own lives. Their utterances at such
times are characterized by an obtuseness and an
utter hick of comprehension that are painful to
tlie sufferers, rather than cheering; and perhaps
none of their impulses in this direction are so
completely a failure as the hackneyed venerable
plirases they employ to induce a spirit of resig-
nation.

It was the last day of the old year, and Mrs.
Baxter moved back and fortli in her kitchen
completing lier culinary preparations for the
morrow. These were not extensive, but such
as befitted the moderate financial status of the
household. She had been stuffing a turkey, and
the air was still odorous Avith the smell of singed
feathers. A saucepan of stewed cranberries was
cooling on the table, and there would be the
remainder of the Christmas plum-pudding, to
give a finishing touch to the meal.

She was a woman of short stature and trim,
spare figure. Her eyes were undoubtedly the
feature that would at first attract a casual ob-
server, perhaps the only item of lier appearance
worthy of any attention. They were not pret-
ty or bright, they were not even youthful, they
were set back deeply beneath the broad, over-
arching temples, and circled by a finely-wrought
network of wrinkles; but their expression was

*¥..

■fifi

''f.lll

hMi!.

116 SAINTS, SINNEHS AND QtT^Eti PEOPLE.

singularly impressive. They shone steadily
with a light of patience and faith from their
luminous dark depths, and at times they liad a
look of intense pathos, as if the soul that irradi-
^ ated them was tacitly asking some serious ques-
tion, and 1,,.. bing in vain for a satisfactory
answer.

She was neatly attired in a dark woollen house-
dress protected from uncleanly contact by a wliite
apron ; the old-fashioned basque with its long
shoulder seams and narrow coat sleeves, buttoned
tight and snug across lier flat chest, showed a
rim of linen collar at the throat, and the skirt,
which was evidently cut on the most econ-
omic pattern, was of short length and scanty
breadth.

It was her nature to be brisk at her work;
she was of that wiry, active constitution which
is productive of speed, but to-day her step was
heavy and she moved about somewhat slowly
from stove to table and from table to pantry,
restoring to their proper places the various cook-
ing utensils that had been in recent use. Fi-
nally, when immaculate order was re-established,
she took her roll of knitting from ashelf and sit-
ting down in a straight-backed chair beside tlie
window, started another round on John's sock.
But she was restless and unhappy, and her
mind would not settle to this housewifely occu-

kANNV.

117

pation, but persisted in taking a circuitous
but not unfamiliar path of its own. Very soon
the needles were idle and Mrs. Baxter looked
aimlessly out of the window, with her laige, pa-
thetic eyes absorbing with semi-consciousness the
outlines of the landscape.

The children were running wild in the front
yard, shouting and snow-balling one another,
and otherwise displaying a huge capacity for
enjoyment in spite of the sharp frost in the air,
against which they were poorly protected in the
way of clothing. The echoes of their laughter
filled the room and lingered around her as if to
tempt lier sad spiiit into buoyancy, and lure her
shrouded fancies into brighter paths. But her
glance turned wearily from the merry romping
crowd. She could not be cheerful, nor even re-
signed.

The mother heart which lay so heavy in
her bosom, and which, because of her unde-
monstrative temperament, had never found full
vent in words, was crying out now, hungrily,
mightily for Nanny— Nanny, the precious first-
born, whose first faint wail had been sweetest
music to her ears in that supreme moment of
physical weakness and conscious motherhood ;
Nanny, the fairest and brightest of them all,
whose cunning tricks and speeches in the period
of her infancy had been applauded to the echo,

'! _ [f r

1 i

Si <t (I

'h-nl

118 SAINTS, SmmM AND QU^M PSOPLE.

nnd in whose gradually developing possibilities
her hopes liad fondly centred.

There Wiis a rap at the door, and laying her
knitting aside, Mis. Baxter rose to open it. A
tall woman stood on the threshold with a shawl
over lier head.

" I just ran over to wish you a happy New
Year," she said, in a cordial, hearty Avay, " and
to ask if you could lend me a handful of cur-
rants. My Christmas 'pudding is all eaten up,
and I s'pose I've got to make another for to-mor-
row or there'll be a row. Jim is awful fond of it.
He has gone up the line, won't be home till late,
and the stores will be closed and I haven't got
enough currants, so there I am, you see."

She laughed as she entered the room and threw
back her shawl. She was a fleshy woman, wliose
countenance was not remarkable for anything
but an easy-going, equable temper.

" You may have the currants and Avelcome,
Mrs. Perkins," was the reply. " I've a jar full
in the pantry washed and ready for use ; I like
to have them that way, it saves time when
you're in a hurry."

" So it is, I never thought of that ; cleaning
raisins and currants is a dirty, tiresome job, ain't
it ? I declare I often feel like throwing them
into the dish— stems, seeds, sand, and all.
Thanks, that's more than I need, but I'll return

^A^Nr.

lid

them in a few days.'^ She took tlie well-fiUed
paper bag but made no movement of departure.
She sat looking witli an expiession of blended
kindliness and cuiiosity at Mrs. Baxter, who
had resumed her knitting in silence.

" How are you keeping yourself, Mrs. Baxter
pretty well?" slio asked, in that elevated voice
which unrefined people assume when anxious to
appear extremely friendly. Mi-s. Perkins had
been a country school teacher in her early days
and a high key came natural to her. " I was
just saying to Jim the other day that you've
been looking a little peaked this Avintei-, and sort
of down-spirited. I don't wonder at it either
for you've had a sight of trouble ; but land, it
never does a mite of good to sit and fret ! If I
were you I would chirp up a bit."

Mrs. Baxter's pale face became tremulous ;
her mouth twitched nervously.

« Yes, I have had trouble," she replied quietly,
but with a forced intonation, as if speech were
difficult.

« Haven't heard from Nanny yet, I suppose ! "
queried the neighbor, actuated by a really laud-
able desire to say something comforting to this
odd, sphinx-like woman.

" No, I haven't heard from her," she said in a
quick, spasmodic voice. « I don't know where
she is."

i w^H

-|{ if^^^^l

1 m^M

1^1 ^^1

^ ■

^H^na^^^^H

l BHI^H^^^^^I

■

^IMH

^^1

i2d

SAINTS, SINNEJtS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Think iliat man woukl stay aloiig with lier
and take care of her? Guess he couldn't do
that, tliough, if lie had a real wife living."

" ' Tain't likely he would," responded the
mother sadly, with a slightly bitter accent, « and
It wouldn't make things any better if he did.
He is more devil than man or he wouldn't have
done as he did in the first place ; that's my
opinion." She kept on knitting with lowered
eyelids, the lines o'f her firm mouth growing
more tense.

" Well, it does seem kind of hard," said Mrs
Perkins. " It's just as I said to Jim. You might
expect the children of wicked parents to go
astray, and it would only be natural if they did ;
but when it comes to children brought up like
yours with Christian advantages and your lius-
band being such a pillar of the church and all-
why it does seem kind of hard ; makes a body
feel as if the dealings of Providence ain't quite
just and fair, tliough maybe it's a sin to say so."
" Don't credit it to Providence," said Mrs.
Baxter huskily, without lifting her eyes,
*' there's a heap sight of blame laid to Providence,
Pm thinking, that ought to lie at our own doors."
"But you treated that girl well; you did
your duty by her."

« Well, I tried to be good to her," she faltered,
« but I might have been better. I was too much

kAlfN?.

121

taken up with tlie liousework and the smaller
chiklren. Theie\s lots to be done wl.eie there's
only one pair of hands to do it, and J didn't take
time to be sociable with Nanny. I guess she
got lonesome sometimes. I do.i't think a mother
ought to have so much to do. I was rather
sharp with her too ; I've been thinking that I
should have taken different ways with her, but
it's too late now." Her voice broke and one
large tear coursed slowly down her cheek.

" My land, but she was a pretty girl ! " said
Mi-s. Perkins musingly, not appearing to notice
these ^evidences of emotion. " Me and Jim used
to look out after her as she passed the house,
with her yellow hair flying and her cheeks the'
color of ripe peaches, and we used to say to
ourselves that you would have your hands full
looking after her as she got older."

" Yes, she was pretty," acquiesced the mother
in a lifeless tone. This was no longer something
to be proud of, but rather an undesirable fact to
be accepted with resignation.

" Isn't it just a caution how many good-look-
ing people go wrong? " exclaimed Mrs. Perkins,
with the air of propounding an origjial and in-
teresting idea. « I declare it beats everything.
I was just saying to Jim the other day wheji he
was making fun of our Nell's big mouth and
freckles, that it's a blessing nowadays, in more

122 SAmTf, STNNJCnfi Al^D QtrEETt PEOPLE,

ways tliaii one, to be born ugly. It's a soil of
graranteo of good behavior. Well, that's one
thing I am thankful for, that if my cliildreu
ain't much on looks they know liow to behave
themselves. Nell is just as steady and sensible
as an old woman."

Mrs. Baxter drew in her breatli sharply with
an almost imperceptible gesture of pain ; there
was that in her neighbor's voice— a matronly
triumph which, though devoid of any hint of
malice, was at the present moment unbearable.
" No," pursued the other reflectively, as she
readjusted her shawl over her head, " I don't
expect she'll give me any trouble or the others
either for that matter. We haven't much money,
and the furniture begins to look pretty well
scuffed out at our house, but, as I say to Jim,
we may hope to take a little comfort out of our
family by and by, and that's one of the most im-
portant things of life when you're married."
She rose now saying that it must be near tea-
time and the young ones would be hungry.

Mrs. Baxter followed lier to the door." Her
face was quivering, she appeared to be strug-
gling for the mastery of an emotion which she
judged to be unworthy of her.

She cleared her throat with a short dry cough
and, drawing her small figure up to its full
height, said with oracular emphasis :

NANNY.

128

"'Let him that thiukcth he standeth, take
heed lest lie fall ; ' that's Scripture language,
Mrs. Perkins, and people would do well to re-
member it. You've no call to crow over me ;
you'i-e not out of the bush, so don't lioller. You
haven't brouglit up your family yet, and you
may think you are doing all right and for the
best and fail as I did Avith— with Nanny." She
broke down, weeping stealthily at first, but more
audibly as tlie pent-up fountains of grief leaped
their barriei-s and surged over her.

" My land ! Mrs. Baxtei-, don't take on like
that," exclaimed Mrs. Perkins. " I didn't mean
to offend you, I am sure ; I am really sorry for
you." She paused and glanced down with dep-
recation and perplexity at the woman before
her, who was soLbing in her apron, hard, dry
sobs that threatened to choke her. "If you're
mad at me," she continued with dignity, "per-
Iiaps you don't wf.nt to lend me the currants.'*
She set the paper bag back upon the table.

" No, no, keep the currants," she rei^lied, wip-
ing her eyes, and making a strong effort to con-
trol herself. « You mustn't mind me speaking
hastily. I am not myself to-day. I can't help
thinking of Nanny, it seems dreadful to begin
the new year without her. It was bad enough
to see her chair empty on Christmas and all the
other stockings hanging behind the stove but

.!,!<•

124 SAINTS, SINNEHS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

hers ; but this is worse. I don't want to hear
the bells to-night." She stopped suddenly as if
surprised at her own vehemence and freedom of
speech, which was indeed rare and only to be
explained on the score of her unusual excite-
ment, then, shrinking back into her habitual
reserve, she said abruptly and with a calm man-
ner:

"Good-bye, Mrs. Perkins, I hope you anc^
your family will have<a happy New Year." She
hastily closed the door, without giving tlie other
woman a chance to reply; and the good-natured
but blundering neighbor went on her way in a
confused state of mind, scarce knowing whether
to feel self-reproachful or inju];ed.

That same evening, when darkness had gath-
ered, and a cold, bitter wind howled mournfully
at the windows and doors, John Baxter and his
wife sat near the fire at a little distance apart,
but still farther separated by the unsympathetic
remoteness of their thoughts. Mrs. Baxter was
plying her knitting-needles swiftly, as was her
wont, but with a serious and preoccupied manner.
She was not ' naturally nervous, but occa-
sionally, when a loud and angry gust pierced
the silence of the room, she would shiver and
appear to be listening ; then with a sigh she
would telax her tense attitude and restore her
wandering attention to the immediate |)resent.

NANNY.

125

Hor husband liad the open Bible upon his knee,
which he was reading in the mumbling, half-audi-
ble way peculiar with him. After a short time
lie closed the book and replacing it upon its shelf
returned to his seat, and resting his head upon
one hand fell into a meditation which, judging
from his expression, was a mixture of self-abne-
gation and submissiveness to chastisement.

At times liis face darkened with an ominous
cloud tliat betokened an inward rebellion ; he
stretched his limbs and twisted round in his
chair uneasily, irritably, as one writlies under the
grip of a relentless foe. But tliis was a mere
impulse, spontaneous and involuntary ; it would
pass away gradually with the look that accom-
panied it, and he would sit silent and passive as
before.

It was not unusual for them to pass long
hours together without exchanging more than
the necessary modicum of words ; they were
persons of limited mental resources, of ordinary
ideas and moderate education. Years ago
they had come to tlie end of any surprising in-
telligence as regarded each other, and had settled
down to make the most of tlie knowledge thus
acquired, living on quietly in tlie same old ruts,
in which nothing ever happened that had in the
least degree the spice of novelty.

Tbe escapade of their eldest child was the only

n"^

126 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

event that had disturbed the serenity of their
lives, and very soon it became tacitly understood
that this was a subject, which, however momen-
tous, was not conducive to domestic felicity,
and could not in any respect prove an edifying
discussion.

But to-night the mother felt impelled to talk ;
she longed with the intensity of a nature long
repressed and pent up in itself, for the relief of
a confidential outpouring to some kindred spirit.
Who so well-fitted by legal and moral right to
receive these confidences as John Baxter?

After throwing a few timid glances in his di-
rection, and observing that his fidgety move-
ments and forbidding looks had given place to
a meekness of attitude that was not altogether
discouraging, she began tremblingly :

" I wonder where Nanny is to-night, father ?
My heart aclies when I think of her."

" How often have I told you not to mention
the name of that miserable sinner in my hear-
ing?" he demanded sternly. " She is no longer
my child, but an alien — an alien to her family
and God's mercy — no retribution could be too
severe for that shameless girl. But she'll suffer
yet, she will be without a shelter for her giddy
head — without a crust to eat, and maybe she
will remember the day when she was clothed
and fed and treated as well as any other girl in

NANNT. 127

this town. I'll warrant that she'll wish then
that she hadn't cast us oS: for that scamp of a
fellow. Yes, she'll rue it."

Mr. Baxter proceeded to moralize upon broad
general principles. " If I know aijy thing about
that book yonder," he said, pointing to the Bible,
"and I think I may say tliat I do, after study-
ing it nigh on to tliirty years, I know one thing
at least, and that is the Divine Being abhors
sin "

"But loves the sinner," interrupted his wife,
speaking softly.

" He punishes the siimer, eternally, without
hope, that's His love," returned Baxter.

" Yes, those who have had every chance and
will not come to Him are punished, but as long
rs life lasts. He holds out hope that they may
come, and forgives them freely when they do.
Isn't that it, father ? "

" ^J"o, hope doesn't hold out always. He says,
' My spirit shall not always strive with men.'
And when that is withdrawn there is no more
hope."

" I don't believe it," said Mrs. Baxter with
extraordinary decision.

"Don't believe what?" asked her husband
gruffly.

" That God ever makes it impossible for sin-
ners to com^ to Him, I'ys thought about itj

128 SAINTS, SINNEES AND QUEER PEOPLE.

and I don't believe it. Do you think there
would ever come a time when I wouldn't take
Nanny back if she wanted to come ? I would
keep on trying to bring hei" if I knew where she
was, even if she didn't want to come, and I
would never give her up. Is God less merciful
than a mother? "

" Presumptuous woman ! " exclaimed Baxter,
^xing his stern gray, eyes upon her in righteous
reproof. " To think that j^ou, a piece of perish-
able clay, a worm of the dust, can dare to ques-
tion the justice of the Almighty I "

"I don't question it, John," returned the
frightened little woman in self-defence, as she
quailed beneath his glance. " I wouldn't dare
to question God's goodness, but I want to un-
derstand it; and I cannot believe that He is
ever cruel, and I don't want you to think that
He is. M you could think that God loves our
poor Nanny, maybe you would not be so hard
on her yourself."

" No more,' no more," said her husband in
solemn disapproval, " let us drop this subject
once and forever. Those who espouse the cause
of Christ with clean hearts are bound to forsake
evil, and come out and be separate from it. If
that girl who disgraced the name we gave her,
were to come back to-night and say. Father, let
me in. I would say No, you chose your own

NANNY.

129

path and forsook innocence, and you can't return
to your old home to cast your reproach on us,
and contaminate the otlier children. I would
give her money if she needed it, and help her to
live honestly, but let her come in as she used to
and sit at our table, and sleep under our roof ?
No, Mary Baxter. Bad company and I shook
hands and said good-bye when I got converted;
I don't associate witli such as Nanny ; whether
she's my child or anybody else's child, it makes
no difference."

" Oh, father ! " wailed the tortured motlier.
" It near kills me to hear you talk like that. It
isn't like Christ, no, it isn't. I haven't much
book-learning, but there are some things that are
not hard to know without books."

There was a long silence. Baxter had relieved
his mind of any superabundant ideas, and had
now nothing further to say.

Presently there was a sound of a faltering step
outside the door, followed by a faint and timid
knock. Mrs. Baxter rose hurriedly, an eager,
apprehensive look in her large dark eyes, but
she was forestalled by her husband, wlio imper-
atively removed her to one side and with
his hand on the latch called out in a clear
voice :

" Who is there ? "

" What's the matter with you, father? " said

'■ f

130 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

his wife with iiervbus impetuosity, " why don't
you open the door and find out ? "
The question was lepeated.
"Who is there?" but still there was no
answer, and the knock came again, fainter and
more timid than before.

" Well, Johi you are a coward," she said
with a short mirtliless laugh, " scared to open
the door to a stranger at nine o'clock in the
evening."

" Mrs. Baxter, will you mind your own busi-

■ ness ? " he said in a low, intense voice, turning

a lowering brow towards her. Then her heart

sank, for she knew that he suspected as she did,

' that it was Nanny who stood outside knocking

for admittance.

For an instant she felt sick and faint, the
familiar details of the room reeled and swayed
before her eyes, -but she maintained her self-
possession.

She walked over to the window, and raising
the blind peered out upon that portion of the
veranda which faced the door. Yes, it must be
Nanny. She could only catch a glimpse of gar-
ments fluttering in the wind., but—yes, that was
Nanny's red merino dress and brown cloth cloak
that she wore last winter. In the meantime.
Baxter, with a look of indomitable resolution,
locked the door and, slipped the key in his

A^^A^vr.

131

pocket. Then lie went round to the front en-
trance and secured it in the same wa^A.
Mrs. Baxter flew to the door, and panted :
" Yes, Nanny, I'll let you in, just in a minute,
dear."

" You mean that you will if you can'' said
Baxter, with an ugly, implacable smile as he
came back into the room.

His wife ceased her futile efforts and, raising
a white, drawn face, stood as if paralyzed.

"You can't mean it?" she gasped, — "your
own child— oh, Jolni ! " She remained motion-
less for a minute, her sharp glance darting liither
and thither like that of a terrified animal cor-
nered at every turn, and seeing no chance of
escape ; then she staggered a little, and moaned.

Again came that feeble knock. "Keep up
your heart, Nanny," said the mother through the
key-hole, " I am coming."

Then slie approached her husband with a new
dignity in her carriage, a new and unwonted
light of determination in her pale countenance,
a gentle persuasion in her voice.

" John, listen to me," she said, looking him
full in tlie eyes with unswerving insistence.
" Have I ever been anything but a good and
trusty wife to you since the day I stood with
you at the altar, twenty yeai-s ago ? Have I not
stood by you and always done as you wished

"1^
'! d

i 'I; '<

1^2 SAtNfS, SlNNiliiS AND QlfEEit PEOPLE.

with tlie children, even when I would rather
have done differently if left to myself ? Have
you ever heard me murmur or complain?
Haven't I cared for you and the family always
—sick or well— as best I knew how? Think of
these things, John, don't break my heart by
turning Nanny away; it might be Jier ruin."

"She couldn't be worse than she is, I
reckon," he said loudlv, and his wife stifled a
cry, for she knew that the girl shivering out-
side in the cold must hear eveiy word. " I
have sworn that she shall never cross this
threshold again, and I mean it. I am a man of
my word ; when John Baxter says a thing he
means it ; everybody knows that I always do
what I think is right, no matter who is pleased
or who isn't pleased. I'll not see the hussy
starve, but I'll not have her here."

He drew a silver dollar from his pocket, and
slipped it through the crack under the door.
"She may take this and welcome, and buy a
comfortable bed^ and food to last her till she
gets work. I don't begrudge any hungry creat-
ure a bite to eat."

" Out upon your miserable, ranting piety I "
exclaimed Mrs. Baxter fiercely. " What good
is your Bible and your long prayei-s, if it leaves
your heart like a stone, with no mercy or
pity?"

€

NaNNW

183

" Be careful, Mary," said her husband warn-

" Be careful yourself, man. Yes, look to
youi-self ! " She was beginning to cry weakly,
hysterically. "' If you do this great wrong to
our Nanny, the day wi 1 surely come when you
will knock at the door of Heaven and the Lord
will turn you away; you will call, and there
will be no answer; if you don't show mercy
now, God will not be merciful to you on the
last day."

" I know my duty," he said doggedly.

" It's a queer kind of duty, I'm thinking,"
she replied, with a short satirical laugh that
told of the ravaging effect this strain was hav-
ing upon her nerves. Then the full, terrific
force of the situation dawned upon her; she
realized the impending necessity of immediate
action; every moment was precious, but she
was powerless to do anything. Perhaps even
now, wearied and disheartened by the barred
door and her father's harsh words, the girl was
turning her steps backward to seek, in a lodg-
ing-hause, the warmth and shelter which had
been denied to her in her own home.

All her conflicting emotion, her grief, fear
and suspense, found vent in a frenzied, inco-
herent prayer as she tossed herself from side to
side, her streaming eyes turned upward.

s t

!i'.

lii

134 SAINTS, STNNEJIS ANh QlTERIi PEOPLE.

"Oh God! Nanny's at the door and lie won't
et her in." Over and over again slie repeated
the waihng cry. This was no meaningless
form of petition, set oif with fine devout phrases
and conventional language, but prayer in ear-
nest, a spirit struggling mightily in the throes
or anguish.

" Hush I You are waking the children with
your voice," said Baxter sharply.

But she would not * be still. It was nothing
to her that the sleep of her five children should
be disturbed when she was confronted with the
fjict, infinitely more important to her, that one,
the eldest, was beseeching in vain for admis-
sion,— for permission to sleep anywhere under
the old roof.

What a night it was to stand and knock-
driving sleet that had the sharp prickling of
myriads of needle-points, boisterous winds laden
with wrath and foreboding, now clamoriuff
shrilly like a petulant child, anon breaking
forth into angry dispute and dismal murmuit
ings. Footsteps sounded once more on the path
outside Mrs. Baxter caught her breath and
listened. The gate clicked, and to her exagger-
ated fancy it gave forth a click of despair.

She started up with a gesture that was at
once wild and menacing.

"John Baxter!" more awful than anything

i if.

^ANNY.

135

lie had ever heard. " Give me that key ! Give
It to me! Not a- word! Give it to me I say, or
i 11 smash the window and get out to Nanny ;
lou may keep her out in tlie cold but you can't
keep me in from going to her." Her eyes
flaslied, and she advanced towards him, pale and
quivering with excitement, her whole attitude
Uehant and tlireatening, a veritable Nemesis.

Her husband shrank away from her. With
all his braggart talk he was not free from a cer-
tain cowardice ; he had always had a wholesome
restraining fear of drunken pugilists, mad dogs,
and furious women, anything in short that com-
bined a supernatural physical strength witli un-
controllable fierceness. His small wife, gener-
ally so quiet and meek, had become in the last
lew moments an imposing and dangerous ,)er-
son. He tried to maintain his tone of authority,
tried to intimidate her by his habitual dogged-
ness of look and manner, but it was of no use.
"Give it to me," she said hoarsely, "or I'll so
out through the window."

" Mary, have you turned lunatic ? " he asked
in some trepidation.

_ "Maybe I have," she said. "You had better
give in to me before I do something you'll be
sorry for; lunatics ain't to be depended on "

He looked frightened. She could see that he
was wavering. Still keeping her blazinc .v.«

13 G SAiyrs, SINNERS AND QUEEti PEOPLE.

upon liim, she deliberately slipped her hand into
Jiis pocket and recovered tlie precious key. He
made no remonstrance ; lie was thorouglily sub-
dued by the magnetic potency of lier tremendous
will-power. As she unlocked the door and
hurried out, the word Nanny trembling upon
her lips, he fell back in ins chair with a groan
and covered his face with iiis hands.

" Oh Lord, I am ^horn of my strength, the
woman thou gavest me for an helpmeet is a
stumbling-block; she's worae than Lot's wife,
or Delilah "—his voice died away into a whining,'
meaningless supplication.

Meanwhile Mrs. Baxter had fled over the
snow-trodden path in the front yard out to the
street, in pursuit of a drooping,''dejected figure
that was slowly moving ahead of her.

" Nanny ! " she called through the deafening
chorus of the winds, " Nanny ! " Her apron was
blown ' p over her eyes, and her feet kept slip,
ping on the ice, but she struggled on through
the dark towards the retreatincr object tluit
looked like a fleeting shadow. Presently the
shadow stood still, then turned back hesitatingly,
and in another minute the mother's amis were
strained around it.

^ "Will father let me in?" asked the girl in a
timid voice.

« Yes, dear, come with me, you must be near

^ANNY.

137

frozen." She led her back into the wfirnily.
liglited kitchen. Jolni Baxter sat in tlie same
place ; he had not moved. His face was still
hidden in his hands. Nanny stepped softly over
the threshold in a sort of awed humility ; she
threw a beseeching, suppliant glance towards
her father, but the mother motioned her to be
silent. She took a small lamp from the shelf
and lighted it, then led the way out of the room
and up the stairs to the small apartment at the
head of the landing, which had always belonged
to Nanny, and which, ever since her flight, eight
months ago, had been kept in readiness for her
return. When they had entered, she closed the
door.

The girl sank wearily ur)on r-hair, for she
was exhausted. She had il waxen features,
round and regular, but her complexion was no
longer pink-tinted, it had ihe ashen paK u- of
extreme debility and niental depression. There
were heavy shadows beneath her eyes, and harsh
lines about the mouth, sweet and cherry-lipped
though it was. She was only sixteen, but looked
fully twenty. Mrs. Baxter removed her hat
and cloak and laid them on the bed.

" I think you had best undress and go to bed,"
she said, « you must be tuckered right out. I'll
bring you up a bite to eat— some cold biscuits
and jam. You mustn't mind if your father acta

'il

138 SAINTS, SmNEns AND OTHER PEOPLE.

queer for a while; he was dreadful cut up
about your going away, but I guess he'll come
around in time."

W'th innate delicacy she refrained from touch-
ing upon the cause of Nanny's departure, till
the moment arrived when her daughter would
freely confide in her, without being obliged to
submit to the painful operation of probing with
questions. She had not long to wait.

Mrs. Baxter stoo|)ed to unbutton her over-
shoes, it seemed to be a pleasure to her to act
in the capacity of serving-maid to this prodigal
child. Nanny's tired glance fell upon the bent
head, the smooth black hair so plentifully sprin-
kled with gray, and the tears started to her eyes.
"I suppose you think I acted pretty mean,
running off like that? " she began, with a catch
in her voice.

" Well, I'll own that it wasn't the right thing
to do, Nanny. If you had told me beforehand
about that fellow, I would have warned you not
to have anything to do with him. You've lost
your good name now, and that's the worst loss
that can happen to any girl."

"He lied to me; he said he would marry
me," she said with a childish vindictiveness.

" He isn't the first man that's promised the
same and done different. That lie is as old as
—as Hell, Nanny. But it was partly my own

' I

^ s

NANNY.

189

< I

fault, — I didn't look after you as I might have
done ; we'll begin over again. I am mighty
glad you're home, I was afraid you would take
to the streets ; I've been worrying my life out
about you. I guess I am getting to be an old
woman, and maybe you tliink I'm not cheerful
company, but I don't feel so old, after all. We
can chum together more, don't you think ? "

" Yes, mother," was the meek response in a
choking voice.

"It's been a bad business altogether," re-
sumed Mrs. Baxter, as she hung Nanny's clothes
on a peg in the closet, " it will be hard for you
to pick up again, but you must just make up
your mind to bear it patiently, and be a good
girl in future." Mrs. Baxter came and pressed
the tired Nanny to her heart,— and they cried
in silence."

" I wish you would step upstaii-s and have a
look at her, fathei-," she said a few moments
later, when she had descended the stairs, and
entered into a conciliatory conversation v/ith her
husband, who still retained a stricken aspect.

" She is sleeping so quietly and peacefully it
would do your heart good to see her. She can't
be so bad as you think, or she wouldn't have
come back at all."

John Baxter growled in an inarticulate voigo

140 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.
. something about not going to be bossed and
bullied by a woman, to which uncomplimentary
insinuation his wife very wisely paid no atten-
tion.

She went on talking in her quietest manner,
all symptoms of lunacy having completely sub-
sided; and by and by a strange transformation
began to take place in John Baxter. His flinty

T nf 7 '*'^^'' ' ^^ '^^' ^^^ q"i*« «o «"ie of the
mfalhbihty of his theories as to the proper and
Christian-hke treatment of sinners in this world
and a doubt crept into his mind as to whether
his wifes views might not, after all, be con-
formable to the strictest morality-a sort of mild
justice tempered with mercy.

When she asked a second time if he would
go upstairs, he offered no protest, but rose and
loUowed her.

As they entered the bedroom and heard the
light slumberous breathing of the inmate, he
hung back almost sheepishly and with evident
reluctance, but his wife caught his hand and
pulled him \n,

Nanny's pretty head was thrown into relief by
the immaculate whiteness of the bed-coverin<rs,
which formed an effective background ; it wlis
not unlike a rare, vivid flower cast against a '
snow-drift. She did not look altogether happy,
but she was at least comfortable. Her soft, fair

NANNY.

141

, I

hair unbound, rippled over the piUow ; the
thickly fringed eyelids drooped placidly, but
around the sensitive lips there still hovered those
lines of pain, which had been traced by the sly
finger of Disillusion rather than by the heavy
hand of Time.

It was as though the fair sleeper even in her
dreams was seeking in vain for the complete
rest of oblivion, and was still overshadowed in
spirit by one of the dark wings of evil. The
face was sweet and childlike but strangely
troubled for one so young.

John Baxtr . >od before the bed — a large un-
gainly figure, ..svkward and uneasy in liis loose-
fitting homespun suit. He shifted from one
foot to the other and coughed down an unpleas-
ant sensation in his throat.

" She isn't much changed," he said huskily.
" I thought she would look kind of hard and
brazen, but she don't. She looks quite natural."
There was a short silence. The effect of these
words was a vague, uncomfortable sensation in
the minds of the parents, as if they were gazing
upon something inanimate, — something that had
been, but was now no more. Their reverie was
broken by a loud and solemn clang. The pon-
derous town bell, the faithful chronicler of sad
and happy events, was heralding the arrival of
a New Year,— a gracious lady from the land of

,y^'

142 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

the immortals, her arms heaped up with strange
gifts, was wafted in upon tlie night-robed world
"I've been dreading the bell all day," said
Mrs. Baxter, in hushed tones, "but now it
sounds good ; I can listen and thank God that
we are an unbroken family." Then, dropping
upon her knees by the bedside, she poured forth
her gratitude in the first audible prayer she had
ever uttered.

"Oh Lord, Thou hast been good to us to send
Nanny home, and we praise Thee for it. She
has done wrong, but please. Lord, forgive her, as
we do, for she is young and maybe it was our
fault. Teach us how to do right by her. We
are ignorant and don't know how to act. Lord
bless us all. Amen."

" Amen," repeated John Baxter,

i *l

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMIST.

The women Avho composed the Ladies' Aid
sewing circle of Button ville had met as usual
on Thursday afternoon at the home of their
estimable president, Mrs. Coulson. They fol-
lowed the usual course of procedure.

Mrs. Bennett, the secretary, who handled the
scissors dexterously and was said to be economi-
cal, cut out a number of garments, holding up a
small handful of scraps at the close of the opera-
tion to show how skilfully she had contrived to
make a few yards of stuff go a long way.

Mrs. Johnson, who was reputed to have good
taste and executive ability and had acquired a
slight advantage over her neighbors in becoming
a subscriber to a Ladies' Fashion Journal, gave
di lections as to how those garments should be
made, and the other women, accepting her judg-
ment as final, quietly followed instructions.

It was a bright May day with a touch of chilli- .
ness in the south wind. The sunshine streamed
through the muslin-curtained window, falling
in slanting rays upon the home-made rag-carpet,
the broa4 chintz lounge, and the table with its

Ml'

1/IQ

144 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

red wool cover; whereon reposed in the neatest
kind of disordei-, work-baskets, rolls of cloth,
paper patterns, a variety of spools, needles, pins,
and other feminine accessories of industry, and
lighted the faces of the busy needlewomen ;
bringing into strong i-elief the furrows and
seams wliich had been deeply written by the
hands of poverty, sorrow, and care.

Tliey were so nearly alike, save for tlie slight
difference of age (and complexion, tliat one de-
scription, not too minutely detailed, would an-
swer for all. Tliey were eight plain, liome-like
women, middle aged, of domestic tastes and strin-
gent liabits, their rough red liands, and thin,
raw-boned figures giving silent testimony to that
patience and heroism wliich, lichen-like, lives
and thrives in the hard places of the earth.

Their ideas were necessarily limited, but af-
forded sufficient scope for such conversation as
appealed to their circumstances and experiences,
and their tongues moved like their fingers,
slowly and surely, somewhat clumsily at times,
but tending'to some definite expression.

"Jim Parsons is out of jail," said Mrs. John-
son, after carefully removing the pins from her
mouth.

Acquitted ? " queried Mrs. Jeffere.
Yes, acquitted. He didn't steal the boots,
'twas another young man that looked lik^ him,"

^l,

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMIST. Ub

"Unfortunate resemblance," said Mis. Jeffers
dryly.

" His mother takes it awful hard."

" What ? His getting out ? "

"No. His getting in."

" Well, I reckon tliat wasn't Jim's fault. He
didn t lay out to be arrested," said Mi^. Bennett,
wiio Iiad some vague notir.as of justice.

"It's a pity folks haven't sense enough to be
respectable," said Mrs. Johnson.

" It's a pity other folks won't let them " re-
torted Mis. Bennett. '

"Well," said Mrs. Jeffers thoughtfully,

when a mistake of that kind happens there's

generally some giound for suspicion. I guess

If the truth were known Jim's respectability

hasn tbeen looking up lately."

"You're strong on that point. You think
that whatever happens is all right," said Mra.
Coulson tentatively.

" Yes, it works around that way in time," re-
p led Mrs Jeffers in her calm judicial voice.
She called herself a "just woman," but there
were persons in the village who considered her
iiard, unkind, and censorious.

"Supposing Jim was the thief," resumed Mrs.
Bennett, "I must say Mi-s. Pai-sons isn't acting
much like the Prodigal father."

'' Who is that?" asked Mrs. Coulson absently.

ft:

\m:>f\

\:\:

.'lA

146 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

" The Prodigal father wlio killed the fatted
calf?" explained Mrs. Bennett in a voice which
was calculated to make Mrs. Coulson blush for
her deficiency in Scriptural knowledge.

"She wouldn't cook a calf no matter how
she felt," said Mrs. Johnson gravely. " Slie is a
vegetarian. If slie made any kind of a spread
it would be boiled cauliflower."

There was silence, for a sliort space. Mrs.
Bennett dropped hel' work in her lap and looked
out of the window.

" Look ! look ! There she goes ! " she ex-
claimed suddenly.

" Who ? " asked the others in chorus, pressing
eagerly forward.

" The Pessimist."
. As she spoke, a hoi-se ridden by a tall fair
lady dressed in a green, tailor-made habit gal-
loped past the house.

" Riding at full lickety-split, break-neck pace
as usual," said Mrs. Johnson. " Queer how she
lives alone in a place like this, and nobody
knows who she is or where she comes from.
She doesn't speak to anybody unless she's
obliged to, and she has the strangest sign upon
her door, beginning, 'I am a Pessimist.' Pd
have gone to see it long ago if I hadn't been
afraid to go near the house. I think she must
be crazy."

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSmiST. 147

" Slie looks as sa.;e as anybody when you get
close to her," said Mrs. Bennett. " Tliere's some-
tiling pathetic about her face. She looks like a
grown-up child that had lost lier way. I'd have
tried to make friends with her if Mrs. Jeffers
hadn't been so set against it."

" She is not a proper person, depend upon it,"
said that lady with decision.

"Wasn't it a pessimist that Mary Doyle
married?" asked Mrs. Graham.

" No, he was a genius — wrote a history or
something of that kind," returned Mrs. Coulson.
"Awfully hard man to get along with. His
temper explodes."

" Explodes ? " repeated Mrs. Johnson.
" Yes, goes off with a bang, makes a blaze and
smoke."

" I thank Providence I didn't marry a gen-
ius^' said Mrs. Coulson. Any kind of a man is
hard enough to manage till you get his bearings,
and map liim out like a foreign country in a
geography, but I don't think I could find the
boundary lines of a genius."

" Or a pessimist," added Mrs. Bennett.

" What is a pessimist, anyway ? An infidel ? "

" Yes, something of that kind," replied Mrs.

Jeffei-s slowly. " A person who looks on the

dark side."

The clock struck five. The women folded

;! ♦!

.i!!,

148 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEEU PEOPLE.

tlieir work and laid it away in the cushioned
wooden box which JVli-s. Coulson reseiNed for
that purpose. Tlien tliey put on their capes and
shawls nnd tied their bonnet-strings.
. " Wait a minute, ladies. I've a surprise for
you," said Mrs. Coulson. She left the room, re-
turning presently with a small morocco case in
her hand. "You like to look at pretty things,
don't you ? I think most everybody does. ThU ■
is a present my Unclb James sent me from Eng-
knd." They had all heard of Uncle James.
He was Mrs. Coulson's capital city, geograph-
ically speaking ; her boast, her pride, her joy
forever.

She opened the case and presented to their
expectant eyes, a beautiful brooch of solid yel-
low gold with a circlet of small diamonds in the
centre. They expressed their admiration freely.

"I suppose a trinket like that would cost fifty
dollars," said Mra. Jeffei-s.

"About a hundred, T think," returned Mrs
Coulson. " But that's nothing to Uncle James.*
He could buy this place out, every house and
foot of land in it and be none the poorer."

" It's a pity he doesn't do it, then," said Mrs.
Bennett. « It will soon run to seed if somebody
with money doesn't take hold of it."

" It will look lovely on your black silk," re-
marked Mrs. Jeffers. " My ! I don't think I ever

THE ACCUSKD AND A PJ^JSsnrrsT. 14{)

saw such a pretty trinket." The otiiers had filed
out in twos and threes and she stood alone by
the table Avith the broocli in her liund. Mi«.
Coulson was moving aronnd the room, "setting
things to rights," as she termed it. "It's real
hefty, too, isn't it ?• No imitation about it. Just
tliinki The money that's in this broocli would
furnish that front room of mine just beautifully,
lace curtains and all. It doesn't seem quite
right to pin your collar with it. It looks like
extravagance, doesn't it?"

" Well, it does and yet it doesn't," replied
Mi-s. Coulson, speaking in a loud voice from the
next room. "I wouldn't buy a thing like that
myself, but as it's a gift I'm glad to have it."

" I've never had anything but a jet brooch,'*
said Mrs. Jeffers, wrapping her shawl around her
shoulders and fastening it at the throat with a
safety-pin. " But I guess I'm none the woi-se
off. I'd be afraid of burglara if I had a valuable
like that in the house. I'd advise you to put it
in the post-office savisigs bank."

»M .-I

Next morning, as Mrs. Jeffers was stepping
briskly around the kitchen preparing dinner for
herself and three boarders, Mi-s. Bennett tapped
at the screen door.

" Oh, it's you is, it? " said Mi-s. Jeffers cor-

160 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QVlXlt Pt:OPlS.

dially. "I'm a littlo Jiear-siglited and I was
afraid you were a 1)ook agent when I saw you coiu-
iiig ui) the )ad. Come liglit in, but don't stay
here, it's as liot as a furnace. Go into the front
room. Then 'sapahn-Ieaf fan on tlie centre-table."
" Mrs. Coulson's diamond brooch is stolen ! "
exclaimed Mrs. Bennett precipitately, giving no
heed to these kindly remarks.

Mi-s. Jeifers droppd helplessly into tlie near-
est chair, too much overcome for speech.

" My ! " she gasped at last with a long breath.
"You brought that out like a shot from a
pistol. You've given me an awful turn, Amanda
Bennett! My heart has been weak lately.
Now, who do you suppose could have stolen
that brooch? I don't believe it's gone, it will
tuin up somewhere."

" I'm afraid not. She searched for it herself
last night, and this morning I went over and we
hunted everywhere. She missed it just after
you— after we went away. She was in the bed-
room and when she came back into the parlor it
was gone. The case was there empty on the
table."

"Well, that beats everything. Where on
earth could it have gone ? It couldn't disappear
of itself. Are you sure no one was in the room
after I left ? " •

" Mrs. Coulson says she went into the parlor

THE ACCUSE]) AND A PESSIMIST. 161

as you closed tl.o front door. You liad Uio
brooch in your liand and weie talking about it
befoie you went out, and it hasn't been seen
since."

A strangely quiet, resolute exi)ression came
into the older woman's face. She folded her
hands across her white apron :.>v] looked steadily
into her visitor's face.

'^Amanda Bennett," sic said, vith dignity,
"you may as well say whai'. on your mind and
iuive done with it. You came hero to tell me
that I am suspected of stealiiig th; . !>/ooch ? "

" Yes, ISIrs. JefPers, that's why i came. But
no one believes you took it, though all the cir-
cumstances point that way. We wanted to
keep the matter quiet, but it has got out some-
how and everybody is talking and wondering
about it. I've heard that there are people called
kleptomaniacs who steal things and can't help it."
"I never heard of them," said the other
woman in the same hard, blunt voice, as she rose
to stir the custard. « At any rate, I didn't steal
the brooch and I don't know anything about it.
It will turn up, sooner or later, and the less said
about it the better."

Mrs. Jeffers' boarders fared ill that day. The
roast was underdone, the vegetables watery, the
dessert scorched and the tea neither liot nor
qold; and the good woman herself, bustling

'I'li i'
. IP'I

152 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPlt.

about in Avhite cap and apron, the very personifi-
cation of neatness, was strangely distraught and
absent-minded.

She appeared to be walking in a dream, and,
as dreams have nothing in common with this
mundane spliere except to render its complexity
still more perplexing, by reason of their teasing
unreality, she acquitted herself very discredit-
ably as a housekeeper. Her mind constantly
reverted to the mystery of the diamond brooch
and the cloud of suspicion which seemed to be
gathering around her; all sorts of possibilities
equally at variance with probability, suggested
themselves with distracting effect upon an
imagination, which had been accustomed to
move methodically in quiet grooves.

In the afternoon she went out to do some
shopping. Our condition of mind has various
ways of showing itself and is frequently made
visible in those bodily movements which are so
insignificant as not to enter into our consideration.
This truth was.never more forcibly demonstrated
than in tiie case of Mrs. Jeffers.

At firat she ivalked slowly with dragging
footsteps as if her feet, were attached to invisible
weights, her eyes furtive and troubled. Then,
as the consciousness of her innocence grew upon
her, and a sense of undeserved injury at the
hand of circumstance, she quickened her pace,

I !l

J'/Zi? ACCUSED AND A PESSlMISf. 15^

niised lier head a trifle higher, set lier teeth
firmly, primped her lips, and shot a gleam out
of her gray eyes that would have disconcerted
her most intimate friends.

Finally, carried along involuntarily by the
impetus of her feelings, she walked so fast and
held herself so rigidly erect that she looked
positively defiant. Many wondering eyes turned
to gaze after her as she passed, the tall, gaunt,
familiar figure in its black lustre gown and rust
velvet dolman, disporting in such an unfamiliar
guise. In her self-absorption, she almost ran
against the grocer, who was a sliort, low-flying
gentleman, weighed down at all points of his
compass witli parcels.

" Good-day, Mr. Smith," she said, coming to
a stop before him. « Has Mrs. Coulson found
her brooch yet ? "

He replied that he thought not. He had evi-
dently heard all the details of the matter and
eyed her with disptissionate curiosity. Whether
as a culprit or estimable church member, she
failed to interest him. What Mrs. Jeffera
did or did not do was really of small moment
to the majoiity of people by whom she was sur- "
rounded. The neutral tint of her personality
shielded her in a sense from extravagant com-
ment.

But the imoortance of f.h« ,*n^;,r;^.,„i „

154 SAlNfS, smi^ERS AND QUL'Eli PEOPLE.

a strong theory in her unworldly primitive mind,
and in her unconscious egoism she fancied that
her present feeling of distress and perplexity
was of public value, and worthy to be freely
discussed.

She was naturally a reticent woman, but now
she talked rapidly, excitedly, with a nervous
catch in her voice as if her ideas came too fast
for words. He was the merest acquaintance,
but she told him all' the circumstances connected
with the disappearance of the trinket, saying,
with a careless laugh, which fell oddly from her
lips, that she hoped it would turn up soon be-
cause she was the last to look at it and of course
the blame Avould fall on her.

He laughed reassuiingly, and said as he went
on his way that he guessed it would be found;
she needn't worry about it.

Wherever slie went, in her shopping excursion,
she had something to say about the strange oc-
currence which had disturbed her tranquillity.
She stopped several women on the street ; they
listened politely enough, some of them looked
at her askance, her eccentric agitation was so
unusual. Slie called to see ^^•s. Coulson, but
the door was locked.

" She is talking it over with the neighbors,"
she said to herself, and a sharp twinge which
she did not understand pierced her heart.

t ■

THE ACCUSED AND A rESSIMIST. 155

A week went by and nothing transpired to
throw light upon the matter. Mrs. Jeffers per-
formed her housework mechanically and went
marketing every day as usual, but a strange
shrinking timidity had taken the place of her
former loquacity. She fancied that the people
she met treated her coldly. She divined what
was in their minds and was ill at ease. Slie was
careful to avoid all personal intercourse, and
hurried along the street with downcast eyes.

When Thursday came around she prepared to
attend the sewing circle with such mingled sen-
sations of pain, fear, and Avounded pride that
she was a stranger to herself, not knowing how
to interpret her own simplest moods and im-
pulses.

" I am the Accused ," she soliloquized. " I see
it in people's faces. I hear it in their voices.
Oh, me ! After forty years of blameless living
and regular church attendance and following
the golden rule, to end up like this ! My poor
husband would turn over in his grave if he knew
it. It's an awful thing to be an innocent
accused."

As she lifted her shawl from its peg in the
closet, something clicked sharply against the
wall. A quick investigation revealed the cause.
There, caught in the fringe of her shawl, gleamed
the missing diamond brooch.

:;^d

lir

156 SAINTS, SINNESS AND QUEER PEOPLE

She started back at the siglit and an exclama-
tion of astonishment choked in her throat. " I
took it, after all," she muttered. " I stole that
thing without knowing it."

She sat down helplessly, and pondered the
situation, keeping her eyes fixed on the glitter-
ing ornament. After her first surprise and relief
at the discovery of so simple an explanation, had
somewhat subsided, she foresaw a fresh com-
plication. « Who would be likely to believe her
story? The neighbors had shown plainly in
the last few days by their distant manner and
suspicious glances that they doubted her honesty
Would they not be incl'iied to regard the simple*
statement of the truth as an invention to cover
her guilt?"

Her tears fell fast at the thought. For ur>
wards of an hour she sat in her bedroom in the
cane rocker meditating upon the wisest course to
pursue. For the first time in her long life of abso-
lute integrity, Martha Jeffei-s was tempted A
straightforward explanation, it seemed to her,
would be equivalent to a confession of tlie wrong-
with which she was charged, would in fact be the
last conclusive link in the chain of circum-
stantial evidence.

« Why not resort to some expedient artifice "
Wliy not drop the broocli into the basket of
scraps which stood near the sewing circle oq

. \

a-
I

r-
f
i

THE ACCUSE!) AND A PESSIMIST. 157

Tliuiydays and suggest casually in tlie course of
conversation that it might perhaps liave been
thrown into it with the waste pieces ? "

But there was a bare possibility that Mrs. Coul-
son liad taken the precaution to empty the basket
and examine its contents, so tliis plan was re-
jected as unfeasible. At the end of much fruit-
less conjecture and casting about for a plausible
equivocation that would exonerate her from
even the appearance of culpability, she broke
down utterly.

" Oh, Lord, I am a sinful woman," she said
brokenly. « I've been hard on sinners all my
life. I've declared that there was justice in
their misery and downfall, and now I am caught
in a net myself. I am judged out of my own
mouth ; my heart is full of deceit, I've been
tempted to act a lid to make things easier for
myself, I haven't any more backbone than a
jelly fish. I'm all unhinged."

Finally her strict Puritan conscience prevailed.-
Something said to her : " Tell the truth and
don't be afraid." She dried her eyes, donned
the unlucky shawl, wrapped the brooch carefully
in tissue paper and put it in her pocket and
hurried away to the Ladies Aid meeting. As
she went forth into the balmy, spring-like air
she experienced the rejuvenescence which invari-
ably follows a decisive step. She stopped every

158 SAINTS, SINuXrKS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

man and woman she met and told tliem of Iier
discovery.

" It Avas caught in my shawl," she said with
a poor little attempt at a smile whiclv resembled
a gleam of sunshine struggling througli a cloud.
"Looks almost as if I stole it, doesn't it? It
has given me a dreadful turn. But I am going
right over to Mrs. Coulson's to tell her how it
happened."

Some listened ^yitl^ soeret ?nisgiving and
turnedaway coldly, uncony-ncf i, Son.- laughed
and said to themselves she v. ?? n queer, excitaUe
mortal given to makin-- a f-jj,- over trifles; but
a few wlio knew her well, and had a sliglit per-
ception of what the « trifle" might mean to her,
showed genuine sympathy and appreciation of
the cinumstances.

As she went up the steps of Mrs. Coulson's
cottage, the sound of voices in earnest and in-
dignant utterance issued tlirough the open door.

" It wouldn't seem so bad if she hadn't pre-
tended to be sucli a saint, and has always been
80 do\^ n on everybody who didn't toe the mark,"
said one.

" When there was any stone-throwing to be
done she was the first to lend a hand," said
another.

Mrs. Jeffers walked firmly into the parlor.
The tongues were instantly stilled. Seven ap-

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMIST. 159

prehensive, self-conscious faces turned toward
the new-comer, and as many pair of hands fid-
geted awkwardly.

She stood by tlie table, her eyelids red and
swollen, her mouth so tightly compressed that
It looked like a faded magenta thread. She
took the small parcel from her pocket and
handed it to Mrs. Coulson.

" There ! " slie said. " Theie's your brooch,
and I hope I may never see it again. It lias
cost me more misery than a death in the family
would have done. I took it accidentally. It
caught on the fringe of my shawl and I suppose
I whisked it off the table as I was going out; I
didn't know till to-day, I liaven't slept these
three nights, I've been dreadfully worked up."
She paused, but no one spoke.

"I've sort of let go my hold on things, some-
how, I've lost my bearings ; I'm not like my-
self, it's been a lesson to me. All the way
here I've been saying to myself : ' Therefore
thou art inexcusable, oh, woman, wliosoever
th«u art tliat judgest.' " There was an embar-
rassed silence.

, " If you don't believe me, I can't help it," she
concluded lamely.

" Of course, we believe you," said Mrs. Coul-
son with a kind, disturbed countenance. "We
are very sorry that any trouble has occurred. T

ifff:!?

I I

160 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

felt sure you must have taken it, it couldn't
liave gone anywhere else. But I didn't think
of the shawl fringe. You must accept our re-
grets and apologies for anything unkind that
may have been said. You are certainly cleared
of suspicion."

" There's been a good deal of talk," continued
Mrs. Jeffers, " but I've nothing against any of
you. I've got back my reputation, in a sense,
but it doesn't look the same as it did. I don't
suppose it can ever be fixed up as good as new."

"Sit down, Mrs. Jeffers," said Mrs. Graham
with a tremor in her voice, as she pushed a chair
forward.

«No, thank you, I'll not stay, I can't settle
to work; I'm dreadful restless, I don't know
what's come over me, I feel twenty years older
than I did the last day I was here. I think I'll
walk over and see that strange lady, the Pessi-
mist, as she calls herself."

" I wouldn't if I were you," said Mrs. Coulson,
who felt extremelyuncomfortableand was grate-
fill for the introduction of a new topic. " Peo-
ple say she is insane."

"People say a great many things that are
not quite true," returned Mrs. Jeffers. " Like
as not she is only unhappy. It amounts almost
to the same thing sometimes, and, anyway, she
is a human."

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMIST. 161

She turned and went slowly out of the room.
The seven women followed her reluctantly with
their eyes. They hud an uneasy conviction
that they had not pioved equal to the occasion,
that something more remained to be said on
their part. But the demand had come too sud-
denly for their slow perception, and they con-
tented themselves with the leflection that by
next Thursday they would have adjusted their
thoughts to the situation and be able to say the
right words in the light way.

In a few minutes Mrs. Jeffers had reached
the cottage which, for several months, had been
regarded by the villagei-s with sometliing like
superstitious dread. It appeared to be under a
spell of quiet, slumberous beauty. Not a sound
was audible. Murmuring winds stirred the lilac
bushes which grew before the windows, pigeons
fluttered around the roof, and the sunshine en-
folded it in a golden embrace; but, from the out-
side there w^w no evidence of human activity.

On a placard tacked to the door she read this
singular announcement :

" I am a Pessimist. I have no dealings with
humanity. No one need call here but the
butcher, the baker, and the grocer."

She knocked, and presently the door was •

mt. '

III

■A

162 «yl/.VTS, SINNfJItS ANT) QUEEIi PEOPLE.

opened so silently that sh i ; ( • vlicn tlie

tall, lissom creature of her ii.oai.ations stood
before her, in all her avstlietic loveliness ; like
a being from another world.

" Haven't you read this sign ? " asked tl^o
strange lady in a soft, musical voico uke tiie
silvery tinkle of running wateis.

" Yes, but I tluuight I'd come just tlie same,"
replied Mis. Jc^urs with matter-of-fact brisk-
ness which contrasted oddly with tho manner
of her fair questioner. " I am out of conceit
with the general run of humanity myself. But
we can't none of us help being humans wliether
we lik( it or not, and we might as well try to
cheer one another."

A cordial intelligence flaslied into the fault-
less face.

"Come," slie said, opening tire door wide,
and waving her hand with a graceful, imj)erious
gesture.

Mrs. JefFers was transfi-<^d for seveir mo-
ments by the Oriental luxur^ of the room. Tlie
furniture was simple enough, such as could
be procured from the ucarcoi, city upliolis . ler.
But the decorations, — pictures, rich draperies
of antique silk and velvet, fancy pillows, cush-
ions, rugs, and rare bric-a-brac, con; lec^ to
make a vista of vrriegated color suf as he
had never seen or dreamed of. In the centre

'•Hi ,

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMIST. 163

of this miniatui'o ait gallery, gleamed tlie beau-
tiful occupant like a rare gem in a brilliant
setting. She was slim, supple, and strong, of
stately presence and classic propoitions. Golden
tresses were wound around her head, and fell
in wavy rings on hei- brow. Her eyes were
mellow brown, with shifting liglits and shadows
in their depths, rays of poetic hope and in-
spiration, clouds of sadness, ')ysses of despair.
Every movement, so instinct with young eager
viudity, yet blended with the inertness which
comes )f mental conflict, told the story of a sud-
den nervous sJioek which had resulted in confu-
sion of mind, and the loss of the ordinary estimate
of modes and manners. She looked as if she
hau been i>oin for happiness, for a beautiful,
lovel life set to i\ie rhythm of noble asj>ira-
tioit .

"I supp ' I ought to introduce myself,"
said the visitoi. " 1 am Mi-s. Jeffers, the
Accused."

The vague eyes rested on her with an en-
quiring, child-like expression.

" The Accused ? "

"Yes, haven't you hea. ? But of course
you're so shut off from everybody that you don't
hear what's going on. It's ail right nov , I
found the uroodi hanging on my shawl. I
don't think I know i/our name? "

'i I

:'■

■

'•'1

.^I^B

.;!».». I^a

'i :>]^l

i I

164 .xAiNTs, siyNm., Ai,n qvKmi people.
The girl imiled dreamily.

I ItZT ■ " ""f "<="■»''»"««. " responsibility.
I I.oppecl nune ,vl,en I took ' uve of the wo.ld
".a came l,ere to live alone. Did you eve

tuiy fiom the moment of our birth ? We b >v«
no «''o.ee in the plan of our existenee. W„ Z
"Ot even 'eeide under what eonditions ,ve would '
prefer to begin life, or what kinds of in . , ed
qmht.es we would *ish to have infused into „ ,r
veins. These things are taken out of our hands

ur,':^a'^r-*''"'™''^'""P°''"''^-S
our welfare in this world and the next."

Why. yes. That's true enough. We < in't

';Some of us are given the dangerous cift
of imagination and fine sensibility, Oie love of

and we are placed in an environment where we
would have been far liappier as dairy mridl-
and there are hirelings who were inteiurerb;
nature for a higher social gi^de, .and they too
suffer from the incongruity between their i„"
stmcts and surroundings. There are women
^hose hearts run to love as rive., run dowiT o

ZZuX ''''"^""" '"'-''--

" '''" '"V 'J" I speak of these things? My

■I

TllK ACaUSKb AXI) A r^RSStMlsT. 105

lips have been bound by silence for many a
d:iy. Ob, yes, for many a long weary day.
Rut you have broken the spell aii<l thoughts
rush to my mind unbidden. It hurts me to

talk, it brings back the pain " She paused

and her oyes filled with teai-s.

" I understand," said Mrs. Jeffers feelingly.
" Your mind is sick. I've been like that myself."
"Have you? Did you lose some one you
loved ? "

** Yes,' years ago my husband died."
" Ah, but it was not so hard to lose him in
that way; you liad him while he was in the
world, but my loss was more bi J ler. The man I
loved, who was to have been my husband,
doubted me. We had a misunderstanding, and I
was too proud to explain, so he left me. He
is married now. I was in the church and wit-
nessed the ceremony. I saw the bride go up
the aisle leaning on her father's arm ; then I saw
him, mi/ love, meet her at the altar. I heard the
words which made them husband and wife;
and then I felt a strange, paralyzing jmin as if
every pulse of my being had ceased to beat.
It was like death, a waking death in the midst
of hideous, grotesque images. Oh, for the silent
grave, where I could neither ^ee nor hear ! I
walked for hours that night, but it was only
my body that kept going on and on in that

ill

! '■■\^

mmless way with nothing to euicle it lu

- My hands and L^wf ke, ri^^^'^f '^-'^•
•nind has been all over IL vMIn ^ ,'^', ^'" "'^
that diamond brooch!" ^' '""'''"^ ^""^

PeliLilf l.s"'* ' ^"^ """"''" --'«'"'«'l the

twyr;„edti:;vronrv:r^^

»ad spirit moved and breathed i Tne but t ^^'
"ot J, and tl,at pain never left ILea t ™'

IsIeDt T.?!T ' "'^ ^'''^ consciousness ere

i Slept. In the inorninff it was still fl,.,

life." ^ *""« " ^»'>' tike my

s.«la.ly"'t'rL^°"''-f "-visitor

feel, you're aif unhingt" It^^t ^m" ^T
like Hmf Q '"fee". Its dreadful to be

, /

Tan ACCffSEb AND A PESSIMIST. 167
jreck Of the faith, and rcting like a deceitful
coward ; and all hecause of an accident that han-
pened contmrywise, jou might say. I never
realized before how close badness is to good-
ness They're not separated by the width of a

trr";-, ^,"'^S"«^^I'"' '"'Wng too much,
your eyelids droop as if you were tired. WhJ

place'?"" ""'"" ''"'" *° ""' """""-li^l' little

repTfedf"' '""""' ''"''" '"'"' ''" ««»'■' »'"1
" To get away from the ,vorld. I was becom-
ing a burden and trouble to my friends It
worried them to .ee me sitting all day with' my
hands in my lap; and though I made an effoH
fo. their sakes, I couldn't shake off the lethargy
that was creeping over me."
"I've been like that too," said M,«. Jeffe...
Yesterday I sat in my chair all the afternoon,
doing nothing but thinking till my head wa^
ready to split. A cobweb wi. waving in a Z

my it." ' '' " " "P """■ '' '" ^''^

a,.I\''!u"M''' "'y»"'"'PPi"«'«.' to be observed
and talked about," resumed the other, "so I
tried to mingle in society as formerly, but it
m no use; I was not the same; the/noticed
Ae difference and that hurt me. When I at

168 SAmfs, smi^ERs AND ^UEEB PEOPLE.

tempted to be gay, I was foolish. My thoughts
went 111 one direction and my words in another.
Wlien I dropped into my natural mood of quiet
sadness I made others uncomfortable, so I left
It all. Our family physician said I was ' the
victim of fixed ideas, that I was morbidly self-
centred,' and they talked of sending me to a hos-
pital. They were all wrong, for all I needed
was quietness, freedom from observation, and
liberty to be myself. Oh, you don't know Imw
I loved him ! " she exclaimed passionately, lock,
ing her hands together. "Every fibre of my
being yearned for him. My heart leaped at his
touch, and my eyes ached to behold him. The
world became new and beautiful because of tlie
love I bore him I But I lost him, and now I
am alone."

Mrs. Jeffers coughed and wiped the moisture
irom her eves.

" Sentiment is a very nice thing for younff
overs to begin on," she said, "it oils the domes-
tic machinery, jind gives it a good st^rt. John
and I did considerable sweethearting in our time.
«ut atter a man has been married a little while
he cares more about a well-ordered house and
good meals than he does for sentiment."

'' That is true. I've noticed that, "said the
giH, smihng sadly. 1 am not naturally domestic,
but nothing would have been left undone in

THE ACCUSED AND A PESSIMISf. IC^

my house whicli would have contributed to hia
comfort. But why talk of it ? It is over now.
The one lesson to be learned in this life is renun-
ciation. I've been learning it in different ways
for years. We have no choice. We aie born,
and that is the worst thing that can liappen to
us. Death may bring us nothing better, but at
any rate, it can usher us into nothing woise."

Mi-s. Jeffers rose to go. " You are getting
beyond my depth," she said, extending her lace-
mittened hand. " But I'm real glad we've -had
this nice visit. I've been thinking about you a
good deal. I was prejudiced against you on
account of your living alone, but I see now that
it's just because you're unhinged, same as I've
been this last two weeks. Misery is dreadful
unsettling and demoralizing. I'll drop in to-
morrow and we'll talk things over, I can be a
help to you, I'm sure. You've had hard luck,
but oh, my dear, no matter what happens we
mustn't forget that we are all humans. I'm
going over to see Mi's. Parsons now, for I hear
she's laid up. They say it's neuralgia, but I
think it's her mind tliat's sick. Good-bye I "

; M

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA.

It was the last day of the old year. p„r
nearly a week the drift, of soft snow had been
gmdually y,e.di„g to the sun's pe:.„asive
warmth and melting away into sln.sh, but a
sharp toueh of frost during the nighthad formed
a th.„ veneering of ice whieh was t.-eacherous
to the unwary pedestrian. But for the most
part, the hurrymg crowds upon the city streets
realized in the midst of pressing demands of
business and pleasure the necessity of caution,
and walked upon the slippeiy pavement with a

Z^rr ''™'''^' *"■■ *''" "■■'f^'y »f 'if« and
lunb that was not conducive to elegance

A short portly gentleman, whose speed was

Z^^ L-"-*^''^'"' ••>■ «'« --S>'t of a large
yal.se m addition to his own avoirdupois, sutl-
denly collided with a slim, wiry-looking young
fellow, causing him ,« reel and g,u,p at the aif

The elder man was profuse in his apologies.

1 beg your pardon, sir ; I am very sorry," he

170

•

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA

171

said puffily, through a thick moustache, "but
this ice is to bhinie. I can haitlly keep from
sliding on all fours. Beastly climate, sir,
beastly ! One day fro;st and snow, the next rain,
and the next fog and ice and broken shins.
Pouf, it's beastly ! I wouldn't live in Ontario
again for anything."

" Ditto," said the other laughing. « I quite
agree with you. I've just come from Manitoba
and can't say that I appreciate tliis weatlier."

"Manitoba? What part? That's where I
live," exclaimed the fiist speaker in Ins gusty
accent, evidently divided between the impera-
tiveness of speed and a desire to be communi-
cative. " I came East to spend a week with my
daughter. Ah, there's my car ! " liolding up liis
cane as a signal to the conductor. "Good-
bye, sir ; hope I'll run against you again, more
gently next time ! " He started off across the
street at a comical little jog-trot.

The young man continued his course, steady-
ing himself as l)est he could, and, presently turn-
ing off from the mjiin thoroughfare, paused be-
fore a shabby three-story building which dis-
played in a front window the familiar announce-
ment : " Board and Lodging."

He laiig the bell, a/id m. there was no sound
of voice or footstep in ar,^ .ver to the summons,
he lang a second time mme peremptorily, glanc-

i i;

"f '

il'

V Mi

I -J

172 SAINTS. smjft;us AND QITMEB PEOPLE.

ing With ill-concealed disgust at Lis poverty-
stnckeii suiiouiidiiuro ti.„ i"'veny-

of feet insi,l» » ,^' , " '""^ " ^''"ffling

ot tee . ,Mde, a slow, heavy n.ovement whicll
told that somebody was at hvst arouse,) Zl
I..ese„tly the door was opened and T st,
b^wny Irishwo„,a„, with ifu.hed tL ^/^

'' Does Kobert Fitzgen.ld live here ? "
K es, he does, an' sorra I am to s.iv it « '

) ouse to ax sich a question as that. Can't I si!
down to me own fireside an' talc' a dhrao n , ,
and quietness widout bein' sl,o<^c un td 'T,
door-bell? Can't I? savs In •. ^^

„.,,.u>> I. " ■■• f>.ys J. Bekase if I

«.>'it, she continued with maudlin lojfic "I
■ mne to move. This is the third toime I've
» lulled the sugar in the whiskey an' "Lr .

W».o„e,for.bya,lthe;riofs,;;:XLT

|elbeouto„thestlirateaforea„itherwS
he don t pay some mit. Kin I ^^^ y^

.Ui« mi'tefhim so wi^ r ^"'r*^ "''■
mm «o with Missus Murphy's

I- "

! 'I

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. I73

compliments, beiii's as ye're his frind. Moight
«is well lodge a tramp as a artist, says I, for
niver a cint kin ye git out of ayther o' tl.im.
First door to tire right. Don't take tlio trouble
to knock, for when he's dabbin' at his picters he
wouldn't liear the crack o'doom, worse luck to
him for a good-for-notliin' spalpane ! "

The newcomer, still pursued by the indignant
complaints of tl,e iriite landlady, mounted the
rickety stairs and was met on the landing by
a tall, handsome young fellow wliose dreamy
brown eyes and wavy hair brushed carelessly
back from a broad, intellectual foi-ehead were
strikingly suggestive of ],is profession. He
lounged forward with an indolent grace that
was habitual.

"Hello, Henry!" lie said, heartily, g ving
the newcomer his liand. " I'm awfully glad to
see you. I expecteil you'd d-op in wlien I heard
you were in the city. Come into my den."

As he spoke he ushered his visitor into the
presence of the most incongruous assortment of
furnituiv, brie-a-brac, and rubbish that one could
well imagine. Paintings were scattered all over
in various stages of evolution, some of them
standing upon easels and shelves, a number of
them huddled together in out-of-the-way corners,
and a few ignominiously prostrated face dowa-
ward upon the floor.

H Sil

lllf

174 SAINTS, smNEBS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Boxes of paint-tubes, bruslies, and bottles of
oil adorned the window-ledge, in utter disie-
gard of systematic arrangement. The uncar-
peted floor in its grimy coloring testified to a
strained and uncivil acquaintanceship Avith soap
and water. Evidently it was a long time since
.tliey iiad met on equal terms.

Tiie funiiture was meagre in quality, and of
the old-fashioned shape and texture which char-
acterizes the saUable matter of auction-rooms
and second-hand furniture shops. From one
large hair-cloth chair the straw stuffing pro-
truded indecorously, while another, which had
flaunted in its younger days in a gaudy chintz
cover, now bore on its faded surface the ravages
ot wear and tear.

There were unmistakable indications that this
was a bachelor's apartment. Nothing seemed
to have a place of its own, nothing looked at
ease m the unsuitable place to which it had
been consigned. Two old castoff I,ats lay in
one corner among- the pictures, and in close
proximity to several paii-s of boots was a plate
which contained a half loaf of bread and a small
pat of butter.

"Not very tidy in here," said Fitzgerald care-
lessly. " Step over the stuff and take a seat.
1 house-clean once a week, but before the regular
day comes round things are in rather a bad stat^

Ipf"1

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. I75

Now just keep quiet for a Uioment, like n good
fellow, while I add the finishing touches to this
portrait, and then I'll be at your service, Salto-
gither intoirely,' as my amiable landlady would
say."

He returned to his easel and made a few cau-
tious, hesitating strokes with his biush, then drew

back and regarded theeffectsomewhatdubiously.

" Come here and take a look at this, will
you ? " he said. " I am not satisfied with it."

His friend obeyed with alacrity, placing him-
self in a position which showed the picture to
the best advantage.

" Do you know that man ? " jisked Fitrgerald.

" Why, yes, that's Judge Vetterson."

" Does it look like him ? "

" Well," returned the other cautiously, as he
stepped a pace backward and assumed the pose
of a connoisseur, " it does and it doesn't. I can't
say that it is a natural likeness. There is some-
thing about that eye— is it straight, do vou
think?" ^ ^

" As straight as your eye, Henry. But if you
say the picture doesn't look like the man— that
settles it, though I don't suppose you know a
good painting from achromo."

He laughed mirthlessly, and snatching the
canvas from the easel, hurled it across the room,
where it descended ingloriously among the boots

rfi

17G SAINTS, STNNEItS AND qUEEIl PEOPLE.

ami bread-and-butter. Soniei^et laughed too at
the sudden cojitact of ethei-eal art witli the un-
lovely details of sordid existence.

"That's my lunch," said tlie artist, observing
that his friend's glance rested on the phite.
" Sometimes I urn too busy to go out for my
meals, so I keep a snack up here, but that's stale
now, let it go."

"I ran in to have a talk with you about the
ball to-n.ght. 'f was good of you to get me an
invitation ; but I've been out of society so loner
that I have no desire to go back to it. I never
did care a great deal for that sort of thing I
would rather have a quiet cliat with you here
about old times, than U. go to the grandest ball
oi the season."

" I'»n flattered by , .■,,, preference, but you see
I am going to this alBu. to-night. I woul.bi't
stay away for anything ! I am afraid the cold of
Manitoba Jias penetrated your system. 'Twas
not always thus, Henry! It can't be possible
you ve gro^yn impervious to tlie cliarms of the
fair sex ? They're almost all that make life en-
durable to me. All the Slite of the city will
be at tliis ball-beauty and aristocracy, as well
as a generous sprinkling of worthy but less fa-
vored mortals. Oh ! by the way, I've a picture
here 1 would like to have you see,-something
rather beyond the ordinary."

TIVO MEN A VD A MADONNA. 177

As he spoke, i.o cios.sea the room t.. a «lielf
whcrooa rested a large canv... wliieh was
securely screened from vulgar, prying eyes of
the inartistic comrades who sometimes chose
to coii^.egate here of an evening, for thp -
poses of social enjoyment. Almost re verenl
lifted tlio covering, and, holding the pictu in
a good light, asked with ill-concealed triumph :

" Well, old man, liow does that strike you ?"
T on t give vent o any sacrilegious expressions
of admiration, for it is the Virgin Mary you are
gazing at. It wouldn't be necessary to d ve tin's

in^liminary iufonnation to everybody, but you're
a little bit abtuse in mattei^ of art, you know."

Somei^etgave no attention to fhis piece of am-
iable raillery, but devoted himself unreservedly
to a contemplation of the picture.

It represented the holy girl-mother, in an atti-
tude of devout meditation. The calm, pure face
was framed in masses of light brown hair; the
large, trustful blre eyes were raised heaven-
ward, a soft filmy drapery rippled away from
the exquisitely curved neck and shoulders like
a mist shot with sunlight,-a drapery which
was adapted to enhance rather than conceal the
beauties of Nature's own handiwork.

" CapiUil ! " exclaimed Somerset as he con-
c uded his scrutiny. " It isn't exactly a new
Idea, but you seem tc '

ave impoved on ifc in

if..

•8' .|

.;.!

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TKT CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

tU5

■ 2.8

'MM

II^H

t3&

b£

f* -

2.5

2.0

^ APPLIED IIVHGE

Inc

1653 East Main Street

Rochester, New York 14609 USA

(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone

(716) 288-5989 -Fax

178 SAINTS, SINNEliS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Bome subtle way that I can hardly describe.
You were fortunate in securing such a saintly
model; whois she?"

" She's a poor girl— one of the shabby genteel
class Avhom it is a real chaiity to help," said
Fitzgerald as he returned the painting to its
place. "Her fatlier lost his wealth in some iai-
sane speculation, and then died in the most in-
considerate Avay, leaving his two daughters to
face the cold wolid and support themselves and
their mother as best they could. They had
never been taught to work, so, of course, they
had to go in for something in the decorative line,
though I believe this one, the elder, has become
very practical and is the mainstay of the family.
" They had heavy debts to pay last summer and
had hard work to pull through. She asked if I
had need of a model, and on the spur of the mo-
ment I said 'Yes,' and wondered afterwards why
I said it. As a matter of fact, I didn't need her
at all ; but— well, I felt sorry for the girl, and
she is so beautiful that it is an inspiration to
look at her, so she sat as my model for the Virgin
Mary. I couldn't think of a subject more ap-
propriate for her, and that is the result," nod-
ding toward the picture. " A waste of time and
money, you will say, Somerset, you were always
practical to a fault ; but I don't look at it in
that light," .

((

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. 179

Wliatdoyou intend to do with the picture^
Sell it?"

" Perhaps. I may exhibit it next season in
the Academy; I have no immediate use for it."
Somerset laughed somewhat cynically. He
was of a robust, practical mould, and had never
shown signs of weak sentimentality. « I am
sorry for you. Bob," he said pityingly. "You
will never be rich. The idea of paying for
models when you don't need them ! That is
just one in a hundred of your shilly-shally ways.
You don't know any more about business than
a hen, and you are as impulsive as a child. I
don't want to make you angry," lie added apol-
ogetically, " but it is the truth."

"Thank you," returned Fitzgerald with an
elaborate bow and a good-natured laugh. « Don't
allow any unnecessary considerations for my
feelings to interrupt your philosophical remarks ;
I find them interesting, and you must know by
tliis time that anger is not one of my failings."
He was reclining at ease in one of the shabby arm-
chairs, his limbs stretched out at full length,
and his feet resting on a foot-stool. In these re-
spects it was a man's ordinary every-day attitude ;
but it was his droll expression of pensive resig-
nation as he raised his arm and laid his cheek
against his liand, woman-like, that gave it a
peculiar piquancy.

■ff

(!■.

ail

•'jl

lii

180 sAiXTs, stmeBs aud qvemb people.

"Now, Ihave never been considered clever "

continued Somei^et, Ins tone rising as CZL

o en^oy this new turn in the conveLtion wS

, dmduahty, the while he administered reproff to
a needy companion. "

pedantic, but he knew that lie had more than tlm
ave»ge amount of sound common.enle, and I

oenents ot it seccund-hand.
"J never distinguished myself at colleffe," he

I did accomplish. It was the other way with

Z17o7'^"':T'^'''^ ^° easily.thSu

flther-rtff ^^"^ '" ^™* ^"^ "• ^''«" ™y

were all Ir ^ '" ^'^'^ '""»'^'^'^' ""d ^^«
were all thrown on our own resources, there

was apoor lookout for me. But I did then whit
theTme """'" '""""'^^ «>"- overuLe
lion..t job that came to me and took hold of it
fi.m y even if it w.osn't the genteel tliii"g I
wanted. I pocketed my pride.^ I managed to

you would scorn to handle, and by and by
X^had enough mon.y t, invest iuManitolI

"Henry, I know all about your self-made

T^ro AtEy AND A Ma DONNA. 1^1

career ; it has been a phenomenal success," said
Fitzgerald in his drawling tones.

" Yes,'-' said the other conclusively, drawing
a long breath of satisf.iction, " Til venture to
say that I can make more money in one year on
my farm, than you can in ten years at your sub-
lime profession."

" O ye gods, hear this sordid monster talk ! "
exclaimed Fitzgerald, running his fingers trag-
ically through his hair. "He measures the ex-
tent of human happiness by paltry gold ! He
has no fine sensibilities— no sensuous delight in
the mere pleasure of existence! He would
rather till the ground and be honest, than revel
in the ecstatic delights of beauty and art, and—
and keep his landlady in arrears," he ended,
somewhat irrelevantly.

" By the way, Henry, did you observe what
a sweet-spoken person she is? I heard her ex-
changing pleasantries with you as you came up-
staii-s. Whaca gentle voice! What an amia-~
ble, dove-like temperament!" He broke off
with a rollicking laugh, which his companion,
however, did not reciprocate.

" You shouldn't treat her as you do," he said
reprovingly. " You ought to pay her."

" Was the lovely Mrs. Murphy so inconsid-
erate as to discuss my indebtedness with a man
who, for all she knew, might be a stranger to

i "!

Pi 1

i » '

.fii'

nil

182 S4wr,9, smmna axd (^ueeu people.

me ? Yes, I see slie was. Well, I ao-ree with
yo.,tl.atl„„gl,ttopayhera,„lagoo,„ ,!
oj^he.. people l«sides. My debts L legj.
ri e .p„, „ „iIU„g-but the puvse is empty.
It .s no ple.,su>e to me to be dunned and threat-
ened every hour of the day, I can assure you,
I am natnml y a peaceable man ; I dislike ve,v
much to be d,sturbed by disputes about money!
I ha e better uses for my time." He went to

paTsed' to r "'"J' '^ """" "' ^'S^-'^' -'-'' )•«
passed to Jus visitor.

curti?' t'v "^ T'" f '"™^'' Sometset, almost
cui tly. You know I never smoke."

"I had forgotten. You were always a good
boy Henry. You haven't any vices, large or
mall, have you?" He helped himself t I
cigarand lighted it.

med~.'"""''^"''^""'''^^^'^'"I'-f<'-<'

"Then you admit th.at you are m.aking no
progress financially, and are unable to meet
your liabilities?" '

"I am progressing backwards, and I meet my
iah,l.t,es at every turn,_the trouble is to dodge
t em But .lon't allow you>.elf to be woS
about me. Man was not born to have everv-
tmig he wants in this unsatisfactory world
When money drops into my coffers I am duly
thankful i when it doesn't, I live in the e^peo^

TWO MEN AJVb A MADONNA. 183

tation that it will some day. I live on as little
as possible, my Avants are not immerou. , and I
am sure it woukhrt bo possible for me to prac-
tice closer economy, unless I crawled into a hole
and pulled the earth in after me. lUit as long as
I am above ground, there are a few things I must
have."

" Cigars, for instance."

" Yes, that's one of the things ; but I buy
them at wholesale."

"And balls."

" Yes, I sliould have to be very poor indeed
to deny myself such innocent and edifyino-
recreations. I go to these affairs in fairly good
style, too, considering the poverty-stricken con-
dition of my wardrobe."

Somerset noticed now for the first time his
really sliabby appearance. " Is that the best
suit of clothes you have?" he asked, half con-
temptuously.

"It grieves me to admit it," replied Fitz-
gerald. He stood up, with his hands thrust
into his pockets, and looked down at himself
with an expression of mingled mirth and self-
commiseration, inexpressibly droll, and so con-
tagious that it was with difficulty that Somei-set
could refrain from laughing. But he was de-
termined not to be beguiled into any flippant
treatment of his friend's shiftlessness.

184 SAINTS, SmNEIlS AND QUBBR PBoPU.

"BehoUI tl.is elegant suit of French tweed _
changeable, s .ot-t,veed I d.onl.l call it, fo 'no
t^vo ,nehes of it are of exactly the sane coIo,
Ob.e.^e how the brown g,«,.ill,. „,erges i I'

Ws S e"tr'"f '""'"r *™'*'-'aV;he

Kiiees. bee the fringe of tangled underbrush

yh.eh overhangs my foot-gear I My d ar W

l.ere,s something u„iq„e Ibout these to„sS

mat 1 am extravagant Ah tt««

"You are a seedy looking specimen. I've
seen men who worked for a dollar a day present
a more respectable appearance."

Hemy. Genius is known by its rags. Clev
e .r menihan I have lived and died in debt. I
am not trying any original trick. Oh, no I It's
anoldstorv. Whpn T n»« • ^^ , ' , "^

heartPnP^ T f i ! '"''^'"^^ *^ ^ 'dis-

heartened I take to reading the histories of

amous men and that cheers me wonde f" % I

recognize that we are all in the same boat."' *

Nonsense ! exclaimed Somerset. « Clever

f\ro Me^ ANb A MAbONlJA. 185

people will always make money if tliey are well-
balanced and ambitious enoiigli to try."

" Well-balanced ! Oh, Henry ! That is the
unldndest cut of all."

" You ought to get married ; that would set-
tle you and bring you to a realization of your
responsibilities."

"Do you know I have thought of that in my
moments of weakness, when these dunning
trades-people Iiave irritated me into mercenary
projects ? The idea has come to me in the form
of a temptation. It might be a good scheme—
a business-like arrangement, with money on one
side— her side, of course— and gallant protection
on the other. There are times when I am half
inclined to try it as the only way out of my dif-
ficulties. But, no; perish the thought! I
haven't sunk as low. as that yet. I have a little
self-respect if I haven't much else."

" It would be all right if you were to love a
rich girl," pui-sued the other philosophically,
"though, I must confess, I haven't much use
for that kind of thing myself."

" For me to love one woman, rich or poor,
would require a miraculous contraction of my
organs of affection,"' replied Fitzgerald in tones
of deep conviction. "I belong to the whole
adorable sex. I admire all pretty women, love
—in a Platonic sense— all lovable women, and

186 sAmrs, siyNEiia and qukjui picople.

reveience all good women. But to bind myself
w.th tl.e shaekles of matrimony to any partieular
one won d be to break faitli witli tl,e i^st. No
i couldn't do it." '

" J am one of tl.o old-fashioned kind, I sun-

quently not imbued with tbe latent ideas about
ove and marriage," returned Somerset witl, a
touch of sarcasm; "but I must say I have no
sympathy with that kind of talk. Every man
ought to look forward to a happy marrilgTa:

the if ,\ T' ''"""^'^ ^""'^ "' -'-^t-'ce
th.at of a noble woman, will be a great incentive
tobimm busmess and a source of strength to
resist temptation. Yes, marriage is the right
thing for every man." °

"No, not every man ; draw it mild," said
F.tzger.ald in l„s lackadaisical manner. " if he
« cut out for it and his inclinations run in that-
direction, why, all right, but if he isn't a mar-
rying man, and would grow restless under con-
jugal discipline, then he ought to stay out of it:
for, If he married, he would only make some '
woman unhappy. A common recognition of
the truth of tins precept would save the world
n lot of m,sery. No, r.y dear fellow, you
can t teach me anything on that score. I've
thought It all out with more deliberation and

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. 187

consciousness, perhaps, than you credit nie
with."

Somerset rose to go. " I am sony for you,
Bob," he said again. " I hoped to see you more
comfortably fixed. If you need money at any
time, you know, consider me your banker and
draw to any reasonable extent."

The artist clai^ped his Iiand Iieavily on his
friend's shoulder, and looked down into his face
with an odd expression of mingled gratitude,
amusement and self-deprecation.

"Bless you for this token of confidence,
Henry I If it were not for a few such men as
you, lifo would be insupportable. You look
upon me as an unlucky sort of a chap, who,
though endowed with a fair share of ability,
will never amount to anything. Don't deny it;
my keen perception is seldom at fault. Well,
I don't blame you ; but see here, old man, I
wouldn't change places with you for the world.
You hobble along with your feet tied to the
earth; I rise above dull, prosaic xperiences
and soar upward higher than you can see."

" Much good your soaring does you," said the
-other with a short laugh. "If you don't soon '
get down to earth and adopt practical methods,
first thing you know, you will grovel."

" Oh, what a melancholy man you aie ! Al-
ways borrowing trouble ! " laughed Fitzgerald,

li.
I,' ,

?■? WM

188 SAINTS, aiNNEIiS AND qUEEH PEOPLE.

"I remember that as r. boy you took everything
hard, from measles to rehgion. Will you bo
around to-night and go to this affair with me? "
"I'll think about it— yes, I might as well.
But how can you go if that is your best suit?"
he inquired suddenly.

" Ah, thereby hangs a tale. I am the fortu-
nate possessor, by proxy, of an elegant dress suit.
You remember Charlie Dingle? One of the
liveliest fellows in our set. Well, he has mar-
ried and become a tame domestic animal ; he
is also a gloating father of twins, and as his
wife is rather delicate, and money isn't any too
plentiful, society sees no more of Charlie. I've
blessed those twins many a time. You see,
Charlie has no more use for his swell clothes,'
so he loans them to me ; nice, obliging fellow
is Charlie.

" The suit I am sporting this season is only
his second best. The last time I was at a
party in his best turn-out, I was so unfortu-
nate as to sit down on a plate of salad. I don't
think anybody noticed the performance, as I
backed out of siglit as cautiously as possible,
but of coui-se it didn't improve the trousers.
Charlie vowed he wouldn't let me have that
suit again ; but I think I can manage it for to-
night if I promise, as he would say, 'not to trot
ground with m^ head in the clouds,' "

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA.

189

Somei-set buttoned liis coat in significant si-
lence, his firm upper lip curling scornfully. Ho
wondered how any man could so demean him-
self as to wear borrowed clothes.

As they emerged from the room and stepped
out upon the landing, a startling a2)parition rose
before them.

It was Mrs. Murphy, her watery orbs more
moist and limpid than evei She was holding
her hands behind her back with an air of mystery,
and leered at the two gentlemer, in a triumpliant
and threatening manner. She had evidently
been imbibing too freely.

" This is an unexpected i)le{isure, Mrs. Mur-
phy," began Fitzgerald in his most suave tone.

" A word with you, sir," she demanded per-
emptorily. " Jist a whisper."

"Certainly," he replied, lowering his head
with an elaborate gesture of gallant concession.

" Pay me some rint ! " she shouted in a voice
so loud and raspy that he started back involun-
tarily, {IS if he liad been struck.

" Och, wliat a gentle whisper ! It was like
the bltist of a fog-horn ! " he exclaimed, laugh-
ing, as he rubbed his ears. " And is it hard up
for funds ye air, Mrs. Murphy ? "

" Yis, it is. Little enough do I git, and small
thanks to you for the same, sir. Pay me some
yin^ or t;ake this over ^-er empty head," bringing

l!«-

1 ::•

: 11!

t 1 ' J

1 1

, 1

. >.;■

^li'll

.4m

1' <iiiH

■

! I

190 SAINTS. SINNEBS AND QUEBn PEOPLE.
her hands from behind her back, sl,e flourished
the bi^keu end of a broo„.stick over the luck-
.e.^^,.,eraM,whob,a clever dod,e evaded

"If'T''''^.f''^ ""*"•'"''« ^'''-l coaxingly:
and wliere did ye git the shillalah ? Shure this
«n„„ds ,„e of the good ould toin,es in I elfnd
when McGinty took a club to McHoohga, and
yelled, ' money or yer loife I '" S " ana

" No mort o' yer inipidence, ye blatherin' snal-
pane. I'™ disprit, I a„,,_Ki„ I kape lodgers
an ^.nake .t pay an' not git a cin^ „t Zl

said^";'""','/'""?*'" ''""•^■fi^W. Somerset,"
said Iitzgerald, as his friend was about to beat a
hasty retreat for fear of serious and complieat d
developments ; " this is only a little of Mrs
Murphy s billingsgate playfulness."

" ^"f . ^y "'*'^ same word mebbi. ye'll est
more of it than ye loike," was the leering re-

su") m" "TT'f' ""' ""*"*'• '" " ""l™ spirit."
•ud the artist, dropping his bantering tone and

I . h brogue. " I regret that I cannot pay you

at „s .noment, Mrs. Murphy. This has teen

. " Yis, yis, yis ! Yer prospects an' yer prom-
ises are alius very foine, but its ri,,t I an, rf{l,er,"

II ; ;

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. 191

was the impatient response, tl^eugh she lowered
her weapon and appeared somewhat mollified.

Somerset's hand was in his pocket in an in-
stant. " No, no ; don't do it," advised Fitz-
gerald in an aside ; " I object on principle to
bnbmg Mrs. Murphy wlien she is in her present
condition ; it encourages her to have recourse
to the same tactics another time, and has a gen-
eral demoralizing effect upon her character. I
prefer to use moial suasion."

"I'll tell you what I will do, Mrs. Mu"-.hy,"
he said with a lofty air of disapproval an., self-
sacrificing generosity. " Rather than have you
driven to these unseemly fits of violence through
any fault of mine, I will cart my stuff to some
tumble-down shed and live there. I am a gen-
tleman, as you know, and accustomed to the
refinements of civUization, but I make the sacri-
fice of my preferences willingly for your sake.
These tempers, Mrs. Murphy, in which you are
apt to indulge, are injurious to your health and
complexion. You are not as fresh and bloom-
ing as you were when I came here. It grieves
me to think that I am the cause of this change
in you."

Somerset did not wait to hear more of this
interesting interview, but whatever doubts he
may have entertained as to its ultimate conclu-
siott were ^e|; at rest a mjijute later. As he

■ I

I'll i. i !
Ml

192 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Stepped into the street, Fitzgerald raised the
windovy and thrusting his head and shoulders
out called down in a shrill falsetto :

^'Aurevoir, Henry; the foe is vanquished."

^ When Somerset entered the ball-room at nine
o clock that evening in company with Fitzgerald,
the scene was almost painfully dazzling to his
prosaic vision ; unaccustomed as he had been
for years to anything but the most ordinary and
moderate festivities.

For the fii-st few moments he struggled with
an almost irresistible desire to flee from this
strange, bewildering, and uncongenial environ-
ment, but in a little while he became sufficients
interested in his surroundings to wish to stay,
m the capacity of a spectator, if not as a partici-
pant He weakly resolved to himself that he
would not dance, but even as the thought
passed his mind he felt sure that in all pmb-
ability he would.

His attention was chiefly attracted bv the
arge numbei- of handsome, elegantly dressed
ladies. He had never seen such an array of
beauty and fii^hion at one time and place

The building which had been chosen for the
ball was an immense public music-hall wliich
was furnished with every convenience and

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA.

193

showed artistic skill in the decorations. The
electric lights shone in variegated splendoV be-
neath cunningly devised shades of soft, trans-
lucent texture. Tlie orchestra, on a dais, was
surrounded by innumerable, luxuriant hot-house
plants, ferns, and palms, from which myriads of
tiny Chinese lights shone fitfully like fireflies.
The polished floor offered unrivalled facilities
for dancing.

At the end of the long apartment a fes-
tooned archway opened into a smaller room,
wliich had been temporarily fitted up as a dress-
ing room. The cozy arrangement of chaiis and
tefe-d-tStes, and the coquettish draping of pretty
alcoves, presented well nigh irresistible tempta-
tions ; but Somerset, who observed these de-
tails from liis point of vantage in the doorway,
regarded this Eden only as a possible means of
escape from the giddy whirl of the dance ; and
remembered the newspaper which he had tucked
provisionally in his coat-pocket before start-
ing.

Fitzgerald bustled about, looking his hand-
somest and most genial self, in Charlie Dingle's
best dress-suit, and proceeded to make Somerset
acquainted. He introduced him riglit and left,
adding spicy comments of his own to the for-
mal ceremony which helped wonderfully to
place his friend on a familiar footing with hia
13

iw SAmrs. siMeRs and qvbbb peoplm

"He is a money-grubbing farmer, wbo has

he said as he presented him to a bevy of bri.lt
g.rls, who had been eyeing the tail, distingni.ired
ookmg gentleman with furtive interest fr<!m

th^M-'T- """^ '"" '■"'"■'■^<''"' '""'-"f fo"
and see how he likes it."

"Oh really?" exclaimed a blonde youn^
ady, whose kind eyes evinced a desire to mak?
the change as agreeable as possible.

hai'r^r/"""^ •' ',' 'f '• " I"""^ e"' ^"* black
hau and eyes, as she looked at Somerset over the

top of her fan in a way that was daringly mi,!
ch.evous. The othe,« laughed in chorus ad
looked interested.

"And have you enjoyed being buried, Mr
Wset?" .nquired the first speaker,' se,': ,

« Oh, very much, thank you, Miss Meredith,"
he rep bed kughingly. - A man who is obliged
to work and Kustle for his living, as we say fut
there, must be socially burled to some extent
no matter wl,ere he lives. And I would preflr
to be buned ,n dry, cold Manitoba than to be
swamped m Ontario."

"Oh, Mr. Some.:set!" they all exclaimed

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA.

195

siniultaneously, with exaggerated emphasis.
" How ca7i you talk so?"

" Isn't it rank heresy ? " said Fitzgerald.
" That is the way he goes on all the time. He
is chuck full of Manitoba egotism ! "

" But you have dreadful blizzards out there,
and wolves and wild Indians — how can you
like it ? People freeze to death — oh ! I shouldn't
want to live there," said an elderly lady who
had joined the group, in accents of undisguised
horror.

" It isn't quite so bad as that," laughed
Somerset. " We do have blizzards occasionally
but they are comparatively harmless. In five
years I have only known one which resulted in
loss of life. Of course we must guard against
the excessive cold. By experience, we learn
when to take the outside air and when to stfiy
at home. As to the Indians, they are tame as
mice, and the wolves are scarce, I imagine ; I
haven't yet seen one."

The orchestra now gave signs of a sudden
musical inspiration ; there was a prefatory piping
and scraping of the instruments, which presently
burst forth into a volume of melody. There
was the slight hum and flutter which precedes
the waltz, then the dancei-s glided over the
floor in a mazy rhythm to the ecstatic measures
of Dreamland.

t *• '

' ' ^Mii

I )]

I m

i t

m um,, „„„, ^„ ^^^^^ ^^^^^

tempts to keen ■„ = """/^^^ unsuccessful at-

^"fin\teo,i2;;r^r^-';;/°-<'t„^

-^he could do to nav;;rte^S f'"^"r.'
notdanced for eight veara- i,.r ■ • " '""*
J'e had never bet /rpl', U,t 1? r'^' ''^^■^
parent that his none to^ fltiS " L hTs.T
fened considerably from disuse.' He tried f"
1' de his embanassment in the doI,?.
places of converaiiion ,. i ., ^ ^ common-

of mind Th ^ ""^''y "^enviable state

a"-'.dX:::r^rt:f''--r

movements of ih^ ^ u '^' ^"^ graceful

"encs ot the waltz seemed to him f^ i.

S^sefveSTml-r"^ ^"^^^--^^
I...encies l\r^^^^^

was a srreat rplJof f.^ i,- i ^ ^* ^^

overandtf 1 "" ""'^^^ *^« ^^"^^ was

!(":■'

I'WO Mi!]^ ANt> A Ma1)0NNA.

chaperon. He stood irresolute for a few mo-
ments, apart from the otliers, and watching the
pretty scene with interest, but having no more
a desire to take active part in it.

Fitzgerald was moving in and out among the
throng in search of a young lady who liad
promised him the next dance.

He caught sight of Somerset and threw him
a whimsical, mocking smile. Presently he
passed him and paused long enough to remark
with the bland effrontery which never offended
anybody :

" Hello, old man, how do you feel now ? If
you can't be ornamental, go and sit down some-
where and keep out of tlie way. That higgledy-
piggledly prancing step of yours may be in
vogue among the Indians, but it is out of date
here."

Somerset lauglied indifferently as he looked
after lus handsome friend. Fitzgerald was in his
element ; his fine features were kindled with ani-
mation and he carried himself with dignit}'-, and
characteristic self-assurance and conscious power.
He was making the most of his opportunities ;
flitting hitlier and tliither on butterfly-wings
through this expansive garden of feminine buds
and roses !

Somerset was puzzled as he watched him.
This inconsequent gayety was a revelation to him

'' tt

of the strange possibilities tliat are inherent in
human nature «* Hr^,t. u ""'erent in

Htte-ea with Jeint i .UH^; "''

be lying i„ wait f„H • '„ a ■ '"'''t "'s'"
with a etont club? aIaJ17T ''"'"''''

presumptive to fabulous mi lion - " 1 " 'Z

■ not underetaiid it but f^lf ti T ' , " """'''

ill her subtle U "' ^'''''''P^ "•''tuie

to subtle, far^eeing methods I^ad ordered it

af atio odo^ :fXtho:: Voi'f rS" •^"'•

palpable through the arched TZ-^' """"

-oothi„gbal„ff„r,,i.tu:::^^^^^^^^
footfall, resounding softly on ih. ,^ • i

opera-boxes, nearly alike aid „ 'f«™Wed

cupied. -^ "' Warently unoc-

He naturally turned to the one that came fi,;,t
and, a. he parted the silk hanging., he ext^af Ld

•if-

Two Men A^d a madonna. 199

the newspaper from his pocket. " Ah, now l»e
liad readied a desirable retreat, lie would be
free to amuse himself in his own practical way ! "
But he started back in astonishment. Tlie
vision of a beautiful girl, with head thrown back
against the cushioned seat, and her eyes lialf-
closed, almost took away his breath. She stirred
languidly, then sat upright and looked about
her in a startled way as she instinctively became
aware of his presence.

" I ^g your pardon ! " exclaimed Somerset.

" I didn't know- ah ! I supposed " And with

this vague apology he fled in more agitation
than could be satisfactoiily accounted for by the
mere incident. "Why was this girl's face so
strangely familiar? Where had he seen those
liquid eyes and that Grecian face ? Ah, now <
he remembered! She was the subject of Fitz-
gerald's picture— a veritable Madonna in the
flesh ! " He groped aimlessly among conflict-
ing sensations and contradictoiy impulses ; was
presently seized with an overwhelming desire
for an introduction, and wondered, witli a pang
of self-reproach, way he hadij't thought of it
before.

He hurried back to tlie ball-room, gazing
about him in quest of Fitzgerald. The music
had ceased and there was a lull of intermission ;
the dancers were seated, or chatting in small

I *i

i !|

i •(!

'»■!'

! i

200 lAlNTS, StN;^En8 A^D QUEEii PEOPLE.
groups, but the artist was nowhere to be seen.
Soniei-set, in liis new-fledged anxiety and enthu-
siasm, was too mucli in earnest to care how he
might look.

He walked the full length of the room, glanc-
ing wildly from right to left, precipitating him-
self into select conversation circles, bobbing in
and out with dexterity and making incoherent
apologies when he failed in his object of flndina
his friend. ^

His progress was c^bserved with general amuse-
ment ; he looked like a forlorn country swain
in search of a truant sweetheart. The black-
eyed, mischievous girl tittered behind her fan
and exclaimed:

^ " Oh, here comes that resurrected Manitoban :
isn't he funny?"

Her companion lauglied as he levelled his eye-
glass in the direction indicated. « How yewy
clevah you aw ! The weseweckted Manitoban I
Ha ! Iia ! ha ! What a wich joke ! "'

Fitzgerald's bushy black head appeared at
last in the midst of an animated group of ladies.
In answer to Somerset's emphatic gestures, he
reluctantly disengaged himself and hurried for-
ward.

« Well, what is it ? " he asked, puckering his
face into a comical expression. « Are you in
for a bill of damages ? You've put your foot in

TWO ME^ AND A MADONNA.

201

it, I suppose, and torn the train of a five-liun-
(Ired-dollar silk dress. I wish you knew how
ridiculous you look ! "

"No, it is nothing of that sort," was the im-
patient reply: "and I'm not concerned about
my looks. It is that Madoinia of yours,— the
Virgin Mary."

" The Virgin Mary?" repeated the artist, in
low tones of awe-struck bewilderment. For the
moment he had no recollection of his picture.
"Be careful how you talk, or people will think
you are crazy. What liave you had to drink,
Somerset ? "

" You know what I mean,— that girl— your
model. She is in the drawing-room and I want
an introduction."

" Oh, I comprehend the situation," laughed
Fitzgei-ald. " By all means, my dear fellow ;
happy to oblige you in so small a matter."

It seemed to Somerset that he must have spent
nearly an hour in hunting Fitzgerald, and lie
began to have misgivings that his fairy had
flown during the long interval; but no, she was
sitting exactly where he had left her.

" Miss Valerie, may I have the pleasure of
presenting to you my friend, Mr. Somerset?"
said the artist, bowing courteously and making
elaborate gestures which were becoming to him,
though they would have looked foppish in the

! I If:

*' '■

■u?

h I?

' '1?

i t '

i <

ii I

202 SAINtfS, mNl^ERS /yn arrKER PBOPLK.
luajority (jf ,nen. " He would give me no rest
UMtaiJmcl brouglitlum to you, and l,i« imnor-
tunity deser|.«« its reward. Mr. Jlenry Soniei-
«et, Miss Valerie. A queer fellow, I warn s ou ;
the sum total of his earthly ambition is to run
successfully a farm in Manitoba. But don't
presume to pity him, ho takes pity witli a bad
grace. I give him over to your tender mercies ;
deal gently with his weaknesses."

" What are they?" inquired Miss Valerie, in
a sweet modulated vqice, as she smiled compre-
hensively.

" Oh, Manitoba climate for one thing He
^^oesn't consider it extremely cold, you know,
%**Jy di and exhilarating, and lie has lived in
solitude' so long that he thinks our society events
a dreadful bore ! Worst of all, he is a woman-
hater ; doesn't say so in so many words, but
v/ould give that impression."
• *;No, no, don't believe him," interrupted Som-
erset, who liad no wish to be estimated by this "
fair young girl in such a formidable light, "it
isn't true, I assure vou."

"Set him goHig, he can talk. If he has any
good points, Miss Valerie, they ought to develop
speedily beneath the sunshine of your smiles "
As lie spoke, Fitzgerald bowed himself off, and
lett the two alone, to make the first hesitating
advances toward frienj-^hip.

TIVO MEN A.\D A MADONNA.

203

Somerset was so dcliciously agit .^ed that ho
forgot the natural use of liis tongue and reniained
stupidly silent, staring at this slim, dainty
maiden who impressed him as no other type of
womanhood ever liad. His easy good manners
deserted him, \w felt rough and eh)wnisli and
dreaded the sound of his own voiee ; it would
surely bo har ;h in contrast witli her musieal tones.

She was perfeetly self-possessed and, entirely
unconscious of the effect she was producing,
talked pleasantly, giving him time to recover
himself. Somerset tliought he had never seen
such heavenly blue eyes. They were large,
clear, and luminous, with a frank, steady ex-
pression that was restful and leassuring, and
suggested phasing, poetic fancies. They were
like a placid summer sky, to which weary toilers
in the heat of earth's strife might look with
gratitude and longing ; the kind jf eyes whose
loving glance would do a man more good than
anything else in the world after a hard day's
work.

So thought Somerset, wondering not a little
at his own imaginative invention, — for he was
one of thr most matter-of-fact men living.
Hoi pale, creamy complexion without a tint of
bright color, was thrown into relief by waving
masses of sunny brown hair which, according to
the prevailing fashion, was piled high upon her

I .:k\

204 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

dniiitily-poised head. Her mouth was neither
large nor very small, but firm and sympathetic,
.^he wore a dove-gray Grecian costume of soft
material, which followed accurately in clino-i„o.
folds the round curves of her graceful ri4,.°
and was almost Quakor-like in its simnircity!
It was cut away slightly at the throat, revealing
one row of genuine pearls. A small spray of
pink roses completed an attii-e wliich, to Som-
erset, was emblematic of the wearer's good
judgment and refined taste.

" You must have thought it strange that I
sliould desert the ball-room and hide myself
here, ' she said in her musical voice. "I must
have been dozing when you came the first time
I sat up last niglit with a sick neighbor, and I
remember feeling very sleepy when I sank into
this comfortable seat."

" You shouldn't sit up with sick people," he
replied; "you should take better care of vour-
self. Miss Valerie."

" I don't mind it at all ; I rather like it. And
I am so strong that I think I am specially fitted
for It, in tliat respect. It is such a privilege to
be able to be of service in cases of sickness. In-
deed, I have been thinking of becoming a hos-
pital nurse. I must get steady work of some
«ort and can't think of any occupation that
"would be more congenial."

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. 205

"Don't, Miss Valerie, let me advise you.
You would never be able to stand the liaidslnps
and sacrifices of such a life. That you would
prove an invaluable acquisition to the profession
I haven't a doubt ; I am sure there must be a
wide field for the services of refined women,
but you should consider yourself and not decide
hastily to swell the list of martyrs."

He smiled down upon her kindly. He was
delighted with her earnestness and her candidly
expressed purpose of earning a livelihood, but
as to the actual realization of such a purpose,
he had certain intuitive convictions. No, this
was not a hardy nature formed to wage victorious
battles against the conflicting elements of the
world, but a fine, sensitive, highly organized
creature, to whom manly protection was a neces-
sity. Not a girl to work, but a girl to be
worked for. She looked strong and healthy, yet
he liked to fancy that he saw in her all the
traditional Aveakness and dependence of her sex.
" It isn't settled yet, I am only thinking of
it," she said gently. « I don't enjoy dancing
parties very much. I am afraid I can never be
fashionable. I find efforts at display most tire-
some and unsatisfactory."

" Please don't try to be fashionable I " lie
exclaimed impulsively. « You are so much
better as you are." Then realizing that this

i I

' 4 I'

:vA

f
I

t'-

206 SAINTS, SmNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

was an awkward speech and not in tl,e highest
degree complimentary, he plunged lieadlong
mto conversation to divert her mind from his
clumsiness. "I understand wliat jou mean,
1 can sympathize witli you from experience.
When I was a young lad I was painfully shy •
I may have outgrown that failing to soine extent,
but I am never free from a desire to escape from
a crowd."

"I come principally on account of my sister.
She IS younger tlian I, and very gay. There
are only the two of us at home, and it seems apity
to deny her such pleasures because I do not ap-
preciate them. There she is,~do you see her ? "
There was an almost motherly pride in her voice
which Somerset did not fail to notice, and which
went to stiengthen his opinion of her woman-
liness.

He looked through the archway and saw a
girl with fluffy, yellow hair, who, however, bore
but a slight resemblance to the immaculate creat-
ure by his side.

" She is like me, don't you think so ? " asked
Miss Valerie,. wistfully.

He wanted to say quite bluntly that she was
not one-half as beautiful, but he restrained him-
self and replied quietly :

"Not very much— a slight family likeness
perhaps." Then, fearful lest he might have

■M

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA.

207

offended her, he added quickly, "But she is
very pretty, veiy." And again he felt that his
remarks were ill-chosen.

Helen Valerie was not a clever girl, in the
popular acceptation of the word, and had never
been considered a brilliant conversationalist;
but she possessed in a remarkable degree the
qualities of sympathy and tact, combined with
the faculty of making other people talkative—
those charming characteristics, without which
the most clever women are lacking in true com-
panionship.

In a short time Somerset was surprised to
find himself relating not only his pioneer ex-
periences in Manitoba, but his whole personal
history. The conviction that already he loved
this pure-faced, sweet-voiced giil was so over-
whelming, that he felt powerless to struggle
against it, and he recognized the hand of destiny
in his approach to this blissful retreat; more-
over, he was not unwilling to follow humbly
and gladly in wiiatever course that hand might
direct.

It must be remembered that he was not like
the majority of young men who fritter away
the heart's best affections in numberless insipid
flirtations. All the love of which his strong,
reserved nature, with its hidden reservoii-s of
feeling, was capable, remained intact, to be be-

I'll

s. '

208 SAINTS, SJNNEB8 AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Stowed in one act of surrender to one woman
whom lie judged to be wortliy of it.

To such natures, Cupid's revelations are apt to
be sudden. The stronghold is stormed and taken
almost before the gallant defender has retison to
suspect that the citadel is in danger. Already,
in imagination, he pictured her moving to and
fro in his home, a domestic, invisibly-winged
angel, adding new lustre to the homeliest duties
and making everything blight with Iier looks.

"A guardian angel, o'er his life presiding ;
Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing."
He wondered if it were not a monstrous piece
of absurdity to think of asking her to share his
quiet, ungilded life ; and yet, according to Iier
own admission, her young spirit was not bound
in slavish fetters to the pomps and vanities of
the world. Thank heaven, she would not need
to work ! He had sufficient means to enable
him to live in comparative luxury whenever he
might choose to do so. If his wife wearied of
the monotony and limitations of Lake Dauphin
district, there was nothing to prevent him
making his home in Winnipeg, which, as the
cultured social centre of the province, compared
favorably with Ontario cities of its age.

He was sure she was too sensible a giil
to ask him to pick up stakes and leave the
country, in th(? interests of worldl;jr ambition.

TWO MEN AND A MADONNA. 209

That he could not do, even for her. He liad
learned to love tlie prairie land which was so
intimately associated with his struggles and
successes, and had long since resolved to be a
loyal Manitoban.

His reverie was interrupted by a chorus of
harmonious chimes from the belfries of the city
which rang out the death-knell of the old year
and the birth-song of the new, drowning the
music of the orchestra and the monotone of trii>
ping feet. It was a solemn instant. A subtle,
sacred moment seemed to palpitate in the per-
fumed atmosphere, which was perceptible to
Somerset's quickened senses.

There was a pensive, reverent expression in
Miss Valerie's eyes as she turned toward her
companion, but neither of tliem spoke till the
chimes had died away into stillness ; then he
said gently : « I wish you a happy New Year,
Miss Valerie. You see we are bemnninff it
together." ^

« Thank you," she returned in a voice that was
slightly tremulous. " I trust that it will be a
happy year for both of us." Something in the
way she said it led him to hope.

Tiie dance had begun again with renewed
vigor; misty, white-robed figures floated airily
by, and the orchestra Lad evidently imbibed fresh
inspiration.

i m^

210 ^Amrs, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Somerset proffered his arm. " The first waltz
of the year-please do not deny me, Miss
Valerie.

" But I am afraid I dance wretchedly," she
demurred.

" Not as badly as I do ; but I have a particular
tancy t enjoy this dance with you."

She made no further objection, and presently
they were out in the midst of the whirl. Stran/e
to say, Somerset danced very well this time and
had no uncomfortable apprehensions. For some
unaccountable reason, his joints were now suffi-
ciently flexible for the purpose. No doubt it
was the liglitness of his spirit which surmounted
physical difficulties, and his improvement was
entirely due to the triumph of mind over matter.
******
One morning, a few weeks after the ball
' Somerset ran into Fitzgerald's studio to bid him'
good-bye. His visit had been protracted far be-
yond his original intention, owing to circum-
stances which, it is to be presumed, he did not
wish to order differently. He found the artist
busily at work upon a canvas from which he did
not take the trouble to raise his eyes.

_ " Hello, Henry ! " he exclaimed absently, still
vigorously plying his brush. "Step over the
stuff hang your hat on the floor and sit down
Pon t talk ; I'm busy,_got a new idea ; get

e
r

, Tiro MEN AND A MADONNA. 211

one so seldom, I must make the most of it. So
you're off ill the morning ? Can't stand the con-
ventionalities of civilization any longer, eh ?
I've heard of such cases. It gets to be a sort of
mania in time."

" I expect to return in a few months," said
Somerset, cheerfully.

Fitzgerald wheeled round suddenly and looked
at him keenly. " You do ? " he said slowly,
" what does that mean ? "

For answer his friend smiled in a mysterious
way and, crossing the room, paused before the
picture of the Virgin. Reverently he lifted the
drapery ; took along, lingering look at the sweet
face and turned away with a sigh.

"I don't want you to exhibit this. Bob," he
said with a grand air of proprietorship, " I hope
to purchase it before long, in the meantime,
take care of it for me."

" Whew ! So that's the way the wind blows ? "
said the other in unfeigned astonishment. « I
must say, you quiet fellows have a sly way of
doing things ! Well, you are a brave man if
you can stand so much sanctimony."

Then Somerset fired up, as well he might.
"I wish jou could get a little of it from some
quarter," he said, hotly ; " you need it."

Fitzgerald threw back his head and laughed,
but sobered almost instantly, and, holdino- out

IB • ■■ M,

, -'J

(If ?•]

iff

it carefully into h^lZZ.T ' '''^^'"8^

• r

THE OLD-FASHIONED PREACHER.

," '^.^f^^}' ''•~"' preachers," said Joe Gre..<r
«f I>e 'g .ted his pipe and thoughtlnlW ,^3
he e.rele of faees around th! c^n^i^f^t^Tf,
borne .„ on my mind as I reflect upon n,; w de
expenence of men of their cloth that (herr
deal of inconsistency in some of them "

"Yes you're right there," exclaimed the
cynical Jn„ Andrews. "You never spoke a
truer word than that." His boisterou ku.h
grated ha,.hly „po„ the eai. of the ladies, tlnS

mocks, placidly enjoymg the beauty of land
water ^and sky, and the cheery cracL of Tlfe"

• ,." ^°J' •'™' "°"« "f yi'- backbiting," adi i
.shed h,s wife, who sat beside him ,ritl. a Sun
day-school novel in her lap which she h id ^en
endeavoring to read in the twilight. "I don't
hke to hear you making fun of pLhe. or ty
body else, and you are altogether too fond of It
Its,„ak„ess. Don't encourage him fn't

213

i
II

. ml
m

r-i fi

fi]

ti iijf

III
i

214 SAtNT.:^, A7.VJVM,X Am Qmm PKoPtB.

" """'Pli. that's a queer way to nut it I "
to,teclAu.,..s. ".Toc„,aJ„:em:i „;:
en... one too, and I agreed will. 1.1,,^ ',- ,,

take the blame for.e,.couragi.,g hi,,,, c.o o,
Joe, air your views." '

"What's the talk about?" la.iiv i,.q„i,.e,I „
entuuental ha„„nock gi.-l. .j, LZtMil
Je k,„s ™„,„,, „,^ -'"' tl'e eoach,.,a, ?" "
No, ,t isn'f," replied M,^. A..d,ews, i„,nul

ia«:iVA;^,,::f^'^^'''i'"-'->''«'-e.esy,"

" ^ell, Iguess they can stand it, can't ti.ev ?"
Y» the g.,.l's languid response. " I kue 'Tuch
a dear sweet preacher once, a friend o pa .al
He >„ade such pretty speeches to won,n", i
alvv.ays dressed elegantly ; the people mad" s^
a fuss over him, that is, the women did he'
.mply adored hi.n. The men didn't bk £
o well, they were jealous, I suppose, the poo"

;rk:::v'°^^""''°"^'^^"-'--f--tC:

bis" "rtld! '""'' ^'!^ P"'"'""*^ ?'^«" t° '"»' on
bis bithdays, embroidered slippers and hand

toi a wh, e and we all felt so sorry. I sent
l"m «ome jelly I made myself and a cLken^;;! ■

I I

rUK OlD-PASmONED PliFAmKn. 015

He saitl tl.at lie never tasted anythiiiff so deli-
cioiis. Poor dear fellow ! "
Andrews laughed heartlessly

"Diclhe die? "he asked, as if such a con.
summation would have pleased him.

" No hut some mean people got up a liorrid
s ory ahout him and he had to leave tovvn
None of the girls helieved a word agi:t ,:;:::
tliey were up at the train to see Iiim off I'll
never forget how handsome and gentlemanly ho
looked Oh, yes, I was there too and I'm not

shook hands with us all around and said, ' God
bless you I I have his photo at home."

"I suppose he was fond of conversing upon
spiritual subjects?" queried Andrews ^ ^

" Oh, no, not at all. You wouldn't know lie
was a preacher when he was out of the pulpit."

^xxxu^ when he made pastoral calls?" sug-
gested Gregg. ^

«n'i"!.r^ "'^^^^"'^ ^'^'^ ^^^^^^ "^^" '-^''oiit all
sorts of things and generally stayed for tea He

was awfully fond of lemon pie. He ^^ tt

greatest i^llow for being engag'ed to twolthree

gills at the same time ; it got him into some

o:?r:her''^^^^

"That's one kind of parson," said Andrews,
who commends himself to the ladies because

I '^

i'»\:

210 SAmt^, .SIMNKIIS ANT, qUKEn vHovU.

on,i...efi,.e.h.asoality. IVo no use f„,. „,;„,,»„„
at .111. 1 |,„y ,„.each ono thing -.uuX li vo nnother
They make a ..oat ado about l.oncsty a„<. "t"
they II play you a mean sneaky t.ick afnnickM
tl.o next one. Ye., that's right. YouTedn't
mulge me wife. The Reverelul Kieha.-d o . wis
the .,ou o honor, wasn't he, when ho sold ZtiZ.
mare of „s and declared that she w.os in fitl

\ ^''^"'"Plo.enougli to take him at his word
• because ho wore a long broadcloth coa aTd „

pl m „ s,^or. " Ho caught Jim Andrews na^
P."g tha fme, and that's more than any other
Reverend will ever be able to say " ^
;; a,e.atcdyo„, did hor'queriod .,« of the men.

d;»^ ; f '• '"^ '"• *''« •'^nged critter
a ed ,ns.do of a n.onth. She wa., disposed when

and she had no more speed in her than an old
ox. When I went to Richardson about it he
wn,ked and laughed and said it was nVv ow„
lookout; that he wasn't a judge orhoifl^h
and wasn'tsupposod to know there „,t^l
-ong with the anim.al. When I asCd f„ t,^

■ fiik oUf-tAs/imyHD PltEAciikn. m
alone pious, a„d that i( ho got his ju,t deserts
1.0 wouia l« bmn,leJ publicly „» ^ thief "

"I m tired of that ho.se story," said the l„,v,
a^.x,ous vo,oo at his side. " I wish you ,vo„ d
forge .t, ,r.,„, and be satisfied to take example
of really g„„d people." Mrs. Andrews felt veC
keenly on th.s subject. Ilor In.sband had S
a church meu.ber previous to the unfortunate b.-..-
8^^ no winch he alluded ; „„w he was a seoflev
and uo at all averse to the serious imputation
o scepticism, and she attributed the clmnge to
the inconsistency of the Reverend Ricliardson.

I never had any faith in that fellow," said
Joe Gregg carelessly. " He was always looking
put for his own interests, and was too full of
himself to have considei-atiou for anybody else.
H s talk was enough to sicken me. His conver

this. 7thmk this, and if I were in your place
I would d. so and so. He was chuck fuU o^
egot.ni. When he pruyed you would alm<»
think he was giving advice to the Almighty."

Now, Joe," remonstrated Mrs. Gregg, ",/„
be c^ful what you say. You're so reckkss ! "

till, these women I how they jerk a fellow

up for nothing. Of eo„i.e I don't prln] ^

uJge the man," he added apologetiellly, as if

to appease a qualm of conscience. "Maybe he

lived up to his light and Battered himself that he

?0:

': m

iiii

SIB SAINTS, SlNNEtiS AND QUEEli PEOPLE,

was sincere. I'll not say that he wasn't, but at
any rate I will say that he had a real talent for
sharp practice."

"Joe," said Mrs. Gregg, raising herself to an
upright position in her hammock, and turning
her pretty, eager face toward him, « tell them
about Mr. Giant. They will have a better
opinion of preachers if they hear about him.
He was so good and grand, wasn't he, dear?
Oh, Mr. AiK^lrews, I wish you could have known
him."

Her husband did not immediately reply, and a
short silence ensued, broken only by the pierc-
ingly sweet notes of a soaring thrush, and the
swish of the waves as they laj^ped the sliore.

"I was thinking of him," returned Joe in a
low, reverent tone, " but it didn't seem quite re-
spectful to mention him in the same breath with
Richardson. However, there's no one living or
dead tliat I would rather talk about, and if you'll
wait a few minutes till I can gather my thoughts
together and get that horse-story out of my
mind, I'll tell you some of tlie circumstances I
recollect, in connection with a man who not
only preached the gospel, but lived it every
moment; who was so absorbed in seeking the
happiness and spiritual welfare of others, that
he never seemed to think of liimself,— a man
who was all love, and tender pity, and mercy.

)1'
11

I.
?

THE OLD-FASHIONED PREACHER. 219

" I am not sceptical, like Andrews here, and
though, as I said before, I have seen enough to
convince me that there's a deal of inconsistency
in the clerical profession, still I must admit that
there are some grand men among them. But
this man— his name was Richard Grant— beat
anything I ever saw for settling rows and
smoothing difficulties and making his influence
felt as a peacemaker. He was really famous in
that line. Whenever there was a quarrel of any
account between church members or outsiders,
people would say, ' Go and tell Brotlier Grant,
he will settle the dispute in no time,' and he did
too.

" Before he came to us we had been in con-
stant trouble. There Avere two tale-bearers in
the church who made it their business to act as
go-betweens and meddlesome busybodies, carry-
ing misrepresented statements and ugly rumors
from the preacher to members of the Board and
congregation, and sundry remarks made by the '
people back to the preacher. You know how
that kind of thing grows and spreads till it con-
taminates the very atmosphere of the church
like a foul malaria.

" It had been our misfortune to have men sent
to us who were sensitive in their feelings, and
jealous of their dignity and clerical authority ;
bumptious kind of men, who could never forget

I;:

i> III

ii m

220 SAmr,, sm^^„s ani> ^uE^n people

1 Je tale-bearers Jiad thinfrs all tlipfv . ^"''®-
and keepinsr the ch,l ' """S'-egotion,

meeting; never Jmve I heard slh ^^""
earnest prayen,. Old n,a„ B Ir V"""" ^'

own 1,.. * • ^"^ "^ '' "'"n after Thine

own heart, g,ve „« „ ChrisUike man, an ^^
fashioned preacher, who will care ZT\ut
saving souls and nnlri'nr* ti ^"''

■ -bout catchi^rtC p2, '^•''"'^PT''^' ""''"
„ ^ ^ popular iancy, and erppfmr,

a monument of fame for himself ! We vr nf ^^
power, oh, Lord ! We want in 1 II ^^^
knocked'in the head rV ^'/^^^^ ^^e Devil
me iieatl ! Give us the man who will
be instrumental in doing it ! '

" A« soon as my eyes fell on the new preacher
I knew he was the right man in the riXt Ice
I clapped Benson on the shoulder and fsk d'
How does he fill the bijl ? ' *

THE OLD-FASHIONED PREACHER. 221

'- Glory to God, lie's all right ! ' v/as the reply,

I know a good okl-fashioiied preacher when I
see him.''

" His appearance in itself was a sufficient rec-
ommendation. He was a magnificent figure,
tall moderately stout and square-shonldered,
Ills thick, iron-gray hair brushed back from a
broad, intellectual brow. His eyes were as
kind and gentle as a woman's when she is in
love ^"

1^' Hear hear!" exclaimed one of the ladies.
And his smile was very genial. He had a
cheerful greeting and a warm hand-shake when-
ever you met him. During the two years that
iie was our pastor, there wasn't a word of serirtus
cbsagreement in the Board, or choir, or anywhere.
He oiled the machinery of that church so that
It ran as smoothly and regularly ^ clock-work.
There wasn't a hitcli, and the tale-bearers found
themselves out of a job. They went to him, as
they had gone to the others, stating that certain
unkind remarks had been made about him, but
bless my heart, it didn't disturb him in the least.'
He understood these fellows and could detect
the false ring in their statements, and discover
the underhand motives that actuated them.

"'Let them say what they please about n<
he would respond with his sunny smile, ' as
long as they don't find fault with m^ Master '

■■•i 'I r

.r:f|

222 SAlNTg, smxEliU AND qUEBR PEOPLE.

thm^I f"^ '"*''■''' «°»«'''«™l'l<^ annoyance
thiough t^vo men on the trastee board, Snagg
and Bangs. Whatone wanted the other object!!
to on prmcple, the principle of natural andcul-
t.va od contrariness. When either one of them

would alee occasion to jump up and condemn the
suggestion unmercifully. Tlien the two would
forget that anybody else had anything to say in
he matter and they would open up an all-X
debate and chew the rag till daylight; wWle
the other fellows sat around and groaned, but
daren t get up any steam on their own account
)oi tear of a general smash-up.

"Well, Mr. Grant got hold of these triokera
n the uiek of tune, and quieted them down
tii I they were a,s meek as lambs. How did he do
.t,yo„ask? Wel,,hehadasmooth,;e:it
yentemanly manner, had Grant, and he had the
knack of statnigdisagreeable facts in such acour-
teoi^ way that no one could possibly take offence.
He talked to them separately and together, and
when they tr.ed to quarrel in his j^-esence he
e.MJamed, calmly, that perhaps the only cause
of disagreen,ent existing between them lay i„
the fact that they were apt to look at a ques-
tion from lifferent standpoints. ^

"At the expiration of two yeare, or rather in
the beginning of his third j^ear, his health be-

THE OLD-FASHIONED PREACHER. 22B

gan to fail and he was granted leave of absence
lor SIX niontlis ; accordingly he took a trip to
Vancouver, and a yomig man was sent to Take
"« place. The Devil is pretty cnte. He knows
better than to let such an opportunity slip.' He
knew he couldn't do much to wreck the good
Hbip Zion as long as Brother Grant was at the
.elm for he was an old captain, and liad been
travelling Heavenward too many years not to
know the signs of the weather, and the exact po-
sition of every rock in the ocean. But Shiblev
was a new hand, liable to make mistakes, and
the Devil was counting o.i his inexperience and
intended to make capital of it.

"The tale-bearers took fresh courage, and
started in at a lively pace to make all the mis-
chief they could. Snagg and Bangs kicked
over the traces again and fought with renewed
vim. The choir had a racket among them-
selves every Friday night when tliey assembled
for practice. Poor Shibley was distracted, but
the more he tried to mend matters the worse
they became. Finally the trouble took definite
shape and became concentrated in the choir.

" A jealous alto had taken a spite against the
soprano, and had been abusing her behind her
back and circulating scandalous rumors con-
cerning her. The intended husband of the
sopmw ha4 avenged the girl's wrongs by call.

224 SAINTS, SLYNESS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

, ing the alto an ugly old maid, and knockincr
her blather on the head with a club, beeause
he luid assisted in spreading the stories. Tlien
the fathers of the girls met late at night and
l^ad a few rounds which left one of tliem with
a black eye and tlie other with a lame Icrv. TJie
bi'others of the alto threatened to throw the"
clio ..eadcr head over heels over the clioir rail-
ing and smash Slubley's bald liead with him, if
he didn t gpt up and out and give tl)em a chance
to run tlie conceni as they pleased. He was a
spunky chap and he wouldn't go, and Shibley
was afraid to say anything.

" Then they tried to induce him to eject the ■
soprano, but he refused and said he didn't be-
lieve a word of such scandalous talk, said slie
was one of the bestsingers he had, and he wasn't
going to put her out because of any woman's
quarrel. Tlien there was a split, the friends of
the soprano, comprising the majority on one
side and the friends and relatives of the alto
on the other, and the malignity waxed furious.
Uie former faction posed as indignant mar-
tyrs belied by tlieir enemies, the latter as per-
secutors in a good cause, exemplifying their
righteousness by showing how hard they could
hit a sinner. *^

take either side, indulged tl>eir relish for such a

■" '" I

TBE OlD-rASmoNBD PREACHBB. 225
lively state of affairs by condemning ti.e whole
outfit unmercifully, an<I con.ing dofvn llmmer
a.Hl tongs on the frightened /ou„g r X
-gnly demanding what he nfeant by permU

climch instead of settiiig his foot down on it
a« bother Grant would htve done

" All the old ladies had something to say about
t, and they tackled him right and left 1

;"g>.i»Uodothisandthatl'd L'if ;^^^^
lie was nearly distracted. ■ ' '

" ^'r' ^'""«y '"«l"'t nmch sand in him He
wa. l,ke a rag on a fence, flapping Wj",t
, e,ther s.de according to whicl. ever way Z
«md blew. He tried to keep on eve Zdvl
o t sKle for the sake of his own skin, aSl
the thanks he got for it was hard names Both
factions were out of patience with him. MaHe ^
were at their worst. Shibley was sick in t.^

rs"M r t," •;"'" "' '^™'"'-- ''-"P-

ill I ' " ""^ ^^-'-i^Pered that she was

l"s ng her reason under the strain of troubr

"There was talk of a church trial and tl;

iightimnded peiwn prefer heathendom to such
a mockery of Christianity. ""''

Jl rt"' " "*""'""■ "'y^^'f- "^"t I was a regular

attendant upon the services, and interested ,n

church work- inr] fi,« , ""^^^^estea in

woiK, and the preachers and I were

'. I'

inSX

226 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER- PEOPLE.

always on tlie best of terms. Giant was a i)ai-
ticularly warm friend of mine, and I felt the
state of affairs ratlier keenly. I kept out of the
row as well as I could, but it wasn't pleasant to
sit in church and see the women-folks turning
up. their noses at one another, and feel tliat the
old Nick was trotting up and down the aisles
patting himself in triumph.

" But help was at hand from tlie riglit
quarter. I Was up at the depot one morning
looking after some freight, when wlicm -hould I
see step off that blessed train but Grant himself,
liis fine, genial face turned pleasantly towards
the bystanders on the platform. I was several
yards away from liim, but I reached him in two
or three sti'ides and shook liis hand so heartily,
that I'm afraid it ached afterwards.

" ' Well, Joe, my man,' he said cheerily. ' How-
are you ? It's good to see your face again ! '

" ' Oil, I'm well enough, considering the cir-
cumstances,' I replied.

" ' How's the church?' he asked next.

" ' It's in the bottom of the lake of fire and
brimstone,' I replied, 'and the Devil is making
a store-house of it.'

" He stared at me incredulously. ' You don't
mean it,' he said, linking his arm in mine as
we walked along.

" I told him that the scavengers were in posses-

Tni<: OLD-FA SlIIONED PnEACJtEtt. 227

sion and tliat tliey were cleaning the place out,
consequently it was rather odoriferous.

" ' The scavengers ?' lie repeated, rubbing his
grand old head in a bewildered way.

" ' Yes, sir,' said I, with considerable spirit,
'the self-riglitcous Pharisees who thank God
they are not as other men, and emphasize the
sentiment by kicking the other men out.'

" He was silent a long time. I knew that lie
was sorely touched and that this was only the
beginning of what would be a great trouble to
him. At last he said with the slow deliberation
which characterized his speech at all times.

" ' It's a new method of cleansing. If some
dirty children came to my door I would take
them inside and clean them in the usual way
with soap and water.'

" ' You're behind the times, sir,' said I, ' the
way it's done nowadays in churches is to firso
chuck them out, then rub them down with a
brick, and shove them back into the gutter.
Tlie poor sinners are not made whiter, of coui-se,
but the church is kept pure.'

" ' And what is the church for if not for the
cleansing and regeneration of the precious souls
for whom Christ died ? ' he said sadly.

" ' I had a long talk with him that night after
supper. We sat together in the library in his
house. I told him everything; just how the

'■ Mi!-

S2S ^'^ALWS, smN£R8 AND QUEt:ti PEOPLS.
trouble began and l,ow far it had gone. He
listened with bowed head. When he under-
stood that it was a young girl who was beii.g
bitten by the poisonous serpent, Slander, ho
seemed to be completely overwhelmed and wept
like a child. ^

"'Ttniust be stopped !' he said suddenly,
starting from his chair. Late as it was he
went out into the night to find some of the in-
terested partie^ and effect a reconciliation. I
walked along with him, though I had no inten-
tion of going into anybody's house.

"'It has gone so far,' he said sorrowfully,
that is the worst of it. It is a terrible thin^
when such matters become public propert>^
Siii^posing what they say is true, and this young
ady has been unfortunate, in the past, why should
the secret be unearthed now, when, according to
my observation of her, she is living a perfectly
consistent Christian life. It is unjust, it is cruel.
And her people are so highly esteemed too_oh.
It IS a shame ! '

« ' Yes, sir,' I answered, < I'm of your opinion.
This world wouldn't be ^uch a bad place to live
in If It wasn't for women's tongues. After all,
Its these professedly good people who make all
the trouble, and are always getting in the way
of the light sort of sinners and making it hard
tor them to do the square thing.'

THi: OLl)-FASlltONED PUKACllF^R. 220

" ' How so ? ' he asked Hliaiply.

" ' Well,' said I, rubbing my chin thouglitfully,
which is ahabitlhavo when I'mevolv' r^ a bril-
liant idea, ' I don't know whetljcr I can explain
it exactly, though I've a clear enough notion in
my mind of what I mean. We will suppose
that a dozen of these proper, censorious women
get hold of a spicy bit of scandal and go around
town and talk about it, stirring up the evil imag-
ination and vulgarity of street loungers, and the
malicious maledictions of small-minded women,
who gloat over the details and hoard them away
carefully in their memory with the other stock
of bad knowledge which they have derived from
various sources. Don't these women do a great
deal more harm than the same number of decent
sinners who make a break once in a while them-
selves, perhaps, but keep a close mouth about
such things ? Certainly they do.'

" ' I believe you are right, Joe,' he replied
slowly. * They do more harm because the}^ de-
grade public sentiment and give rise, as you say,
to the hidden iniquities of the imagination,
which may develop any day into the open act,
corresponding with the thought.'

" ' Yes,' I continued, ' if decent sinners respect
themselves too much to hawk that kind of stuff
around the country, why should religious people
want to dabble in it ? '

■ d

'^i*" .

S!30 SAINTS, ,L\yens AMD ,/,t,:Hu PKoPt.

(( (

Perhaps tlieir mot

said. ' It may be bocause tl

ves are li^rht, Joe^» j,^

evil

ey wisli to siippiess

U (

Their motives be Iiano-ed

that s wliat they're after, they're goi.u. the
vyay about it. No, they want to d

igfed, sir!' said I, 'if
wrong

to do witli ,t, ,f» a clear case of po-sonal spleen
from sta t to u.ish I hate bul.io, Christ!:': "
Mr. Gmi,t shook his head and siMied wallr
...g .-"»"* silently. Presently he spoke i.aW,'
soft vojce that had a queer thrill in it. It seemec
rr ' "'.'f *""»«"■''«>■« "■■""ml the heart.

tr„« rt • ^.™"''V'"'''" """" "■"''"■st^'Hl that
true rel g,on ,s a religion ot love-love to ma„

and God and that all that savo,. of uncha I
« direetly co„t,-ary to the Master's teaching^
We should at .all times try to make life e.asie
for one another instead of harder. The work of
gi»ce within us is made more pe, feet hy n.utual
helpfulness mutual love, ..„d forln-aranee.' hI
quoted softly :_ "®

• "'ForHieloveofCiodisbroader

Than the measure of man's mind.
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.'

"We had reached the home of thesopr.ano by

while r- •.^'- ^7"' ^'^^'P"' "P '» "- "o-
while I waited at the gate. He didn't go in.

fnn oiD-irAsnioyED i^itE

ACllKli

Tlie mother met 1

tliiit Mary—tliat was 1

ii'n on the thresliohl ami said

•ly ill tl

le evening. The womai

lei- name— Iiad gone out

« seemed anx-

ious and had the careworn, irritable look of one
who has suffered mental disturbance from the
constant nagging of inhuman mortals, called
busy-bodies.

"She said that her daughter had been sick in
bed for several day., but this evening she had
insisted upon getting up and going for a walk,
though she was weak and looked as if she
liadn t strength to stand, let alone walk, and she
complained of a queer feeling in her ' ad

"'She ought to have returned lo..^ ago,' she
said. T don't know what's keeping her. Glad
to see you back, Mr. . , ant,' she added politely.
Not that It muKcs much difference to us now.'
" ' II^w s that ^ ' he asked.
"'We have left the church,' she explained,
the tears starting to her eyes. '(^od onlv
knows Mhat we have suffered the last few
months at the hands of people who call them-
selves Christians. They have tried . ruin
my husband's business and my daughter's rep-
utation. Ihey have turned our fri.mds against
us, and If the law of the land would permit it,
they would burn the house over our heads ; and
all through spiteful jealousy. I wish I had
never laid eyes on a Methodist.'

* 'if

f ''if

232 SAINTS, SIlfXBna AND qUEEB PEOPLE.

. " ' HusI, my dear woman ! • said the preacher
knuly. . Don't speak rashly. There are some
good ones among us, I hope ; we are not all
like that. I have come back sooner than I ex-
pected. I should have preferred for many rea-
sons to stay but something kept telling me that
I was needed. I couldn't shake off the feeling.
Now I know that the Lord h,^, sent me to gather
together the wandering sheep of the flock, and
recover the lost joys of Israel. Have faith and
patience, and these troubles will come nVht I
trust that next Sabbath we will n.eet together

Il'l^f'^^P™''" ""•' "''-"'k^giving, rejoicing
that the clouds have dispersed to make way for

the sunshine.' *^

" She listened to him in respectful silence, the
tears trickling down her cheeks.

" ' I'll take a walk around and see if I can find
Mary, he said as he raised his hat and turned
away ' You don't know, I suppose, which direc
tion she took ? '

" * I looked out of the window shortly after she
started, 'replied the mother, * and thought I
saw her walking towards the river.'

" Mr. Grant looked at me in a startled way, as
he joined me at the gate.

^ « ' Poor girl ! ' he said gently. ^ Perhaps she
IS sitting near the water's edge indulging sui-
cidal thoughts. You may walk part of the wajr

THE OlD-PASHIONBD PSMACSEtt. 233
wUh^ me, but I think I ,v„md ^u.^r see her

'"All right, sir.' I returned. ' But I'll stroll
up and down the forest path within „ few ;ard
of the nver, so that if jou don't find her I can
have t e pleasure of wallcing back with ^ou '

intorr" T "T '" *''^ "■»««'"&. I turned off
into the path and he hurried on.

„,?' '"'^ » "beautiful night, n.ild and starry. I
made myself comfortable against a tree and lit

spLT'i 1^1' "^■' ^"'''•^" ^ '■-«•'' ^'-^^^^^^

splash. I listened again, but all was still, and I
was concluding that I had been mistaken when

gurgling kind of way. I ran madly through the

the nvei. There, out in the midst of the water
about.a hundred yards from shore, I b^ leldM '
Gmnt struggling to uphold what looked ,ik!a

tt:;7;':/asi::;:"= --' ' ^-'^-"^ -^^--^

"At a short distance a boat was floating, bot-

tom.s.de upwards, and I concluded that in a fit

of .ne .ncholy the girl had thrown he^elf ftom

; X ''^"'y '"^"""^ ^^ and plunged

de ^fv'"' '^r''"'* ''''«" ^ ^>^*'" "P "long-
8 de of h.m. The girl with her wateModdel,

heav,ly from h>s grasp, the water gaping huu-

I: li

< i,

234 SAINTS, SINi^ERS AND QUEKli PEOPLE,

grilyat eveiy downward dip of her inanimate
form.

" 'Can you swim to sliore with her, Joe?' he
gasped, ' I'm used up, don't mind me.'

" ' All right, sir,' I replied, encircling her with
my arm, thankfully conscious of my ability as a
swimmer. ' I can manage her. Can you get to
shore alone ? '

He nodded in the affirmative.
" ' Keep close behind me so that I can help you
if you need it,' I said, and with that I struck
out. I made quick strokes, but it wasn't easy
work; she was more of a weight tlian I ex-
pected, and I wjis afraid she would drag me down
in spite of myself; but at last we got to land,
then I looked back and my heart stood still.

« There wasn't a sign of Mr. Grant anywhere.
The water lay calm and still, glistening Itke a
sheet of silver beneath the sky ; but the gray
head of the preacher had disappeared beneath
its surface. I called his name ; there was no
answer, only an awesome silence. I sobbed
aloud like a frightened boy as I ran through the
woods with my dripping burden, looking back-
wards for a glimpse of the familiar face rising
to tlie surface. But the river lay blank and
motionless. "

Joe paused in his narrative, shivered slightly,
and covered his face with his hands.

THE OLD-FA SUION ED PREACHER. 235

" We found him next day," he continued un-
steadily ; " and on Sunday lie was buried. The
service was held in the church. I never was at
a funeral where there was such intense emotion ;
everybody was weeping, men and women who
had quarrelled and hadn't spoken for months
were clinging to one another and cobbing like
little children. He looked beautiful in the coffin
Avhich was smothered with flowers. His face
had an expression of joyous surprise and loving
welcome. I've no doubt the look came to him
at the hM moment, as he caught sight of the
glory th /raited him.

" As tiie people passed around the altar-railing
to take a long last look at their beloved pas-
tor, I thought to myself: 'Our old-fashioned
preacher is preaching a more eloquent sermon at
this sad moment, than any which fell from his
living lips.' And so it proved to be. The torn,
distracted church was reunited and strengthened,
and personal enmity and bitterness swallowed
up in the softening influence of that tender
sorrow."

There was a long silence as Joe ceased speak-
ing. The fire had burned down, and emitted
only a fitful blaze from the blackened, smoulder-
ing wood.

"He was the right sort of a preacher," said
Andrews, hoarsely — " the clear stuff all through.
A man like that would uouvert me."

! I

•M<

I i

236 SAmTS, SINifEBS AND qVEEH PmPZK

"Ma'decTwelU " t'"' Joe, .-ousing himself.
Mauied well too; has a fine home and a nice

me and a' '';. ^"' "' *^ ^^'^ ^ »»"<"> ■''"
!: w T^" '' """^'l K'^hard Grant."

lated !- asked Mis. Andrews.

the

5elf.
lice
her

cu-

ive
jn-

•er

MRS. CHESTER.

The breakfast-room of the Dimsdale mansion
presented a cheery and festive appearance, and
was pervaded by a subtle atmosphere of ghid-
ness, vvliich was indicated not only by the pro-
fusion of fresh-cut flowers and other floral de-
corations, but by the bright faces of the five
persons who sat closely together in a lovin<r
semi-circle before the blazing grate fire. **

It was an occasion of double rejoicing ; not
only was it Christmas morning, but the favorite
son and brother who had been traveling in
Europe for tliree years had just returned unex-
pectedly, and was now the central attraction of
the family group.

Two young girls, aged respectively sixteen
and eighteen, clung to him affectionately, as they
plied him with questions about his journey and
exparienees in foreign lands, while the mother,
who was a widow, a dignified woman with white
hair and firm lips, sat almost in silence, but with
a softened expression in her eyes as they rested
upon her long-absent son, which belied the vague

Otpr-r

"if

238 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

impression of severity one might receive from a
general survey of her features.

The younger son, Harry, wlio had been the
head of the houseliohl during Jack's absence,
and who had reached the sentimental and self-
important age of twenty-one, monopolized no
small sliare of the conversation by a boastful
account of his good management of home affairs,
financial and otherwise.

Jack himsfllf looked tired and travel-worn, but
thoroughly amiable and comfortable as lie leaned
back in the luxurious easy-chair and lazily ob-
served his surroundings.

"It is good to be liome again after all my wan-
derings," he said with a contented sigh. " How
nice the old place looks and how tall and hand-
some you girls have grown ! I suppose you
consider yourselves young ladies now ? "

" They've both got beaus," Harry remarked
brusquely, as if that fact settled the question.
"Gentlemen friends, Jack," corrected Mrs.
Dimsdale with dignity, "and they call upon the
family.' I hope I know how to bring up young
girls properly."

" You are quite right, mother," returned Jack,
as he pinched the rosy cheek of the elder sister,
" don't allow them any undue privileges. I wish
you could see how carefully the maidens of
France are guarded and watched."

Mas. CHESTER. 239

" Don't tell her anything about it, please,"
said Minnie tlie younger, with a comical little
grimace of disgust, " it's bad enougli as it is."

The mother smiled grimly as she bent over
her needle-work. The set lines of her face even
in momentary flashes of amusement gave evi-
dence of great determination, and a will power
rigid as iron.

" Have you found your bright particular star ^
yet?" asked Harry jjointedly. Being in a
love-lorn condition himself and looking forward
with a youtli's crude fancy to the culminating
happiness of matrimony, this suggested itself to
him as a natural question.

Jack laughed, flushing slightly and feeling
confused as lie met the curious intent glances
of the girls.

"The conversation of this family is becoming
too personal to be quite polite," he said, grace-
fully avoiding the point.

As he spoke he had a fleeting remembrance
of the sweet face and gentle voice of a bonnie
Scotland lass, whose shy friendship had seemed
to drown his bitter memories as effectually as
the fabled waters of Lethe. She had promised
to write and— well who could tell what would
be the outcome ?

A variety of motives had induced him to start
on his extended European tour, but the aU-im-

i'l; '

I hi

240 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEEU PEOPLE.

peiative one lay very close to the sacred pre-
cincts of his heart and had not been explained
to the world at large. The true inwardness of
the matter was that he had gone to escape from
the misery of a disappointed love. Nellie Cress-
well, the dear companion of his boyhood, and
choice of his maturer years, having fiustrated
his hopes by uniting herself to that objectionable
and inconvenient individual commonly called
"Another.'? '' '

To make matters woi-se, this other, thougli
a rich and prominent citizen, was altogether
unsuitable to the girl by reason of temper-
ament. The young wife was exquisitely sen-
sitive, Avell bred and dainty; of fine feeling and
cultured discernment. Mr. Chester, like many
other men who have suddenly risen from humble
origin to affluence, was essentially vulgar and
grovelling, in his tendencies. Nature had not
made him a gentleman, and no amount of social
prestige can make good such a deficiency.

Jack, having endured as long as he could the
sight of his sweetheart's gilded misery, dropped
everything in a fit of desperation and sailed
acror.s the ocean.

Now, on his return, he fancied that his wound
was healed, and that he would experience no
sensations of regret when brought into contact
with the familiar associations of Auld Lang Syne

241

the

MRS. CflBSTEn.
But the heart of u,a„ is an inexplicable nr,
It refuses to subn.it to the sovereignty
wil and « not amenable to reason.

baeCr l"' "'""^'"^ V>^^^\.i.nay turned
backwau^ he saw tantalizing images i„ the
dancn,g blaze which made the blood flol „t
a qn.cker pace through his veins. He ried
weakly not to think of her and succeeded I^
controlhng the aln.ost irresistible iZt "
ask quesfons concerning her. She Zl^,
ZV ''."".""^^'"""""g- Sl.e had taken her

;:'r. i'^ •;-• "■" i'> ' - a s; Cr ::

feel mjured, although he had always ?„ved

her and .t had been the one great pu';;„^e:
his life to woo and win her, when the riaht
time should come. ^ '

They had drifted on contentedly as the best
of friends, while he, strong i„ the sens, of
possession and believing that^vith « u^
' fa.ling intuition she knew all that was in Z
eart, was hopefully weighing the chances o the
future, and seeking to build his happiness cai^!
fully upon a firm foundation. Peiiian, if
not her fault that his dreamw.^ soTu cT
and rudely dispelled by the announcement of „
engagement, perhaps she did not unde«ta„d he
delicate reservations of his attitude toward he'

m
m

242 SAINTS, SINNEltS ANT) QUEER PEOPLE.

All, well, it was i)ast, the pain aiitl disap-
poiiitnient of it, and it was clearly Lis duly to
foiget.

He moved faitlier from the fiie, knowing
that the mystic beauty of dancing ilames has a
direct effect upon the imaginalion, and is apt to
warm instead of cool any dtjiniant germs of
sentiment. But change of position did not
restore his normal equilibriniu. Ho became
absent-mind6d and answered questions at ran-
dom.

At luncheon he was almost silent, but no one
seemed to notice it. His sisters chatted cheer-
fully, and Harry, with the insistence of a young
fledgling trying his wings, expanded volubly in
all directions, expressing his opinion upon all
manner of subjects including^ politics and reli-
gion. Jack gave scant attention, but smiled in-
dulgently. He had been just such a self-sufficient
young prig himself once.

The girls were observing him closely, making
mental comments as to his changed ai^pearance.
The incipient moustache which before his depai^
ture had been so indistinct as to be a mere glint
of prophecy, was now an accomplished fact, its
yellow silky strands curling away in a Frenchy
twist from his full upper lip. As a lad he had
been called pretty. The ladies who had called
Qn his mother wlieu this scion of the house of

MliS. mTKSTEn.

243

Dimsitalo wan toddling in kilts, luulguslied ovtu'
his Siixon beauty witli true feminine ardor, ex-
claiming iiii)turou«ly as they handed him around
to l>e kissed :

. " Isn't ho just too sweet for anything with
his blue eyes and golden hair? The little dar-
ling ought to have been a girl ! "

As a long-limbed, immaculately clothed youth
he liad still been considered effeminate. Now
at twenty-eiglit lie had outgrown his callow pre-
tensions, and had acquired a mature knowl-
edge of the world and human nature, which is
derived from superior social advantages. His
views of life were broadened, his boyish pre-
judices and asperities softened, his perceptions
shaj'pened, his sympathies enlarged and intensi-
fied. He was now a man, every inch of him,
physically and mentally.

" What is the programme for the day ? " lie
asked in the midst of a How of small talk. « I
think I'll have a quiet read and smoke and drop
in to the clul) later on."

" Nothing of the sort," exclaimed Miss Min-
nie indignantly. "You are our returned prodi-
gal and we have killed the fatted calf for you.
You must i-emain at home to eat it, and receive
the embraces of yonr friends."

" I have invited a number of your old ac-
quaintances to dinner at seven-thirty," explained

■ (111
, . Hi;

244 ^Amrs. stN>,sns Am hubbh pbopib.

'■'" '"»"'«'• with precise accent " r ii ,
, le JKid not the remotest intention of ^ivin^ w!v

A vague doubt crossed his mind n

He began to be un.easonably annoyeclwi h T
«"d Iu» sisters for avoiding^l.e me, l T'

toput^^to^S^^^

" I suppose the Cliesterswillbe here' "

If a bombshell had exploded at their feet it

The, rls flushed aldlooten^ih^^rt

febe^rvorfar'"^-^'^-

^fiis. ciii:srKit.

245

"Did you ],ear iiKMnollicrr' insisted Jade
who uudorstood l.er prevaiiciitln- natuio.

*' Yes, wliat did you say, my son i " sho .wked
tromulously.

" You know u'liat I said."

"About the Chesters? No, they will not l)e
Here, slie replied r.titii .

"We don't enierlain |.:,o«ts," laughed Harry,
with a poor atteu'Tjt, at J0( ularity.

" I dou't understr i/.said Jack, wit), a strange

deld?'' ^'''''' "'"' ^^'^^' ^^-^^^-i« *^«

There was another awkward silence which

was broken at last by Harry saying abruptly:

1 es he s dead, of course, died two yeai^ a^o :

and she's— well, she's " "*

Mrs. Dimsdale taking up the unfinished sen-
tence nerved herself for a supreme effort, her thin
lips closing over her words with a stern rigidity
that was almost fierce.

"She is alive in the flesh but to all intents
Hnd purposes she is dead ; dead to all who once
knew her-dead to her old friends, dead to re-
spec tabilitj', dead to the Church." Mrs. Dimsdale
bad been an amh tious elocutionist in her humble
younger days, and her conversation was apt to
be adorned with oratorical periods.

Jack stared in astonishment then broke into
a harsh laugh.

.1*

\4.

•Tfti

S46 SAINTS, SlNNEIiS AND QUmJIt PEOPLE.

" It must be hard for a flesli and blood Avoman
to be as dead as that," lie said with a touch
of scorn. "It seems to be a case of buried
alive."

" She is socially ostracized," said Mrs. Dimsdale
severel3\

" You are talking in riddles, mother, and I
don't like it. You know me well enough to
know that there are times when I am not to be
trifled with." '

" What shall you wear to-night, Ethel?" re-
sumed Mi-s. Dimsdale, addressing her youngest
daughter with the air of dismissing an unpleasant
subject ; and the talk drifted with too evident
haste from the dangerous channel.

As they concluded the meal and rose from
the table Jack touched his mother's arm and
asked her to go into the library with him. She
complied leluctantly. When they hod entered
he closed the door, and moving forward an easy-
chair motioned to her to be seated.

" Now, mother," he said firmly. « what is
all this mystery about Mi's. Chester? Why
should so simple a question mal^e you act so
strangely ? You are hiding something from me
and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I sus-
pect that you have not been quite frank with
me. Several times in my lettei-s home I have
inquired about her— it was only natural that I

r^ :i

Mas. CTtESTEli.

^47

il I

should, we were friends from childhood ; but I
received no tanswer. I have not kept up u cor-
respondence with any one outside of our family,
and as my newspapers failed to leach me regu-
arly, I had no 6ther means of informing myself
as to home matters. I have wondered that you
never mentioned Mrs. Chester."

Mrs. Dimsdale's long, thin hands fluttered
nervously in her lap and her eyes were down-
cast lis she replied stiffly :

" I did what was right. No one can accuse
me of wrong judgment. It was well that you
should not hear of the scandal about her ; I pur-
posely kept it from you. I knew you were fond
of her once and might be again, and I dreaded
your coming back and entangling youi-self witli
her disgrace."

" What disgrace ? " he asked sharply.

The mother sat silent a moment, then with
tightly compressed lips raised her eyes to her
son's face and gave him one of her keen, in-
domitable glances. She chose her words with
a slow deliberation that was exasperating.

" She disgraced herself by infidelity to lier
husband, and the knowledge of it killed him.
She was holding a private interview at midnight
with a stranger, and Mr. Chester coming sud-
denly upon the scene shot at the man, who, how-
ever, escaped ; then, the excitement proving too

1 ''i

1^? ■■'

■htfi

!;!

■

--•iri'^H

■mt

r t- tit HHHHI

!■

f f

248 SAINTS, SINNEliS ANT) QUEm PEOPLE.

much for him, he dropped doNvii in a paralytic
stroke of which lie died in n few days."

« Mother, how could you believe such a thing
of her,— you who knew her from infancy and
were such an intimate friend of her family ?
Surely, even if you had suspicions you didn't
turn against her ? "

"What else could I do? Could I associate
with a depraved creature like that? Could I
bring her here to contaminate my own daughters
your pure young sisters ? I don't understand
you. Jack."

"Nor I you, mother," he returned sadly.
" But are you sure this story was true? "

" Certainl3^ She never denied it ; that is

she didn't deny the facts though she protested

her innocence as a true wife. But the circum-

■ stances were all against her. Oli, it made quite

a stir. It was in all the papers."

" And therefore iiecessarily true," he added
bitterly. " Where is she now ? "

" Mr. Cliester was heavily in debt," continued
Mrs. Dimsdale in her placid way, not seeming
to hear the question, « his affairs were in a very
bad shape, much worse tlian anybody suspected,
and when he died everything went to pay his
creditors. She was left almost penniless."

" But where is she ? " he asked a second time.
"Why do you evade my questions, mother?"

249

MRS. CHmTEH

there was a note of extreme irritation in his
voice.

She continued irrelevantly as if lost in deep
thought : " It was so sad, terrible. I was thank-
ful that her fatherand mother Avere dead, that no
one was left belonging to lier to suflfer through
her misconduct."

Jack, unable any longer to control himself,
took a sudden stride forward and laid his strong
hand almost roughly on her shoulder.

" mere is she ? " he demanded harshly.

" Your manners haven't improved," responded
his mother quietly. « How should I know where
she is ? "

" But you do know and I insist on your tell-
ing me."

" Well, if you must know she is here in the
city ; her house is 316 Sherbourne Street."

" Thank you," he said as he hurried out into
the hall. « It would have been as easy to tell
me first as last."

He was rapidly putting on his overcoat and
caj).

Mrs. Dimsdale suddenly divined the situation
and became affrighted by it.

" Jack, you are not leaving us to go to her on
this your fii-st day home, and on Christmas day,
too? "she said pleadingly. " Oh, my son, be
warned by me, you are so impulsive. Don't

^ ''■ •

fi '

1.1

;

'if

■ v\

i'i_i

250 SAINTS, SiNNtJRS AND QtTEER PEOPLE.

go to that woman, she is an outcast from society.
None of our set associate with her "

He jerked himself away from her with a vio-
lent movement that denoted a mixture of anger,
pain, and repudiation.

" My God ! " lie said intensely under his
breath, " is there anything on earth so cruel as
woman's treatment of woman?" He opened
the door and went out, leaving her standing in
the hall with a helpless, startled look on lier
face. At the gate he met Harry, who was return-
ing from a stroll.

"So you had"*t manliness enough to take the
part of a slandered woman ? " he said indig-
nantly.

Harry looked disconcerted. " Well, you see
our folks were so down on her," he returned
self-defensively, " and the girl I'm keeping com-
pany with said "

" Bah ! " exclaimed Jack contemptuously,
turning on his heel.

It was a typical Canadian Christmas. From
a tender gray sky the snow palpitated silently
in large, soft, feathery flakes, and nestled ujuin
the outstretched limbs of the bare trees. The
air was fresh, crisp, and invigorating. A few
elegant equipages dashed by at a fine rate of
speed, liiden with dainty types of womanhood
wmpped in costly furs ; the proud, prancing step

I. -I

MRS. criEsrEB.

251

of the thorouglibred steeds giving no uncertain
indication of the wealth and aristocracy of their
owners.

Jack remembered how Nellie Cresswell had
given commands to her coachman, and had
looked so beautiful leaning back in the lux-
urious cushions. He wondered if she still
went out driving in modified style. It was hard
to realize that she Avas poor ; how poor he did
not know, as his mother had not been very
definite on that point. Of course she had been
reduced to the necessity of earning her living,
but Nellie was clever and would prove equal to
such aii emergency.

As he turned off from the avenue with its
double row of palatial residences, into the main
thoroughfare, he observed a few of his old com-
rades sauntering towards him at a leisurely,
holiday pace. He pulled his cap over his eyes,
sunk his chin lower into the depths of his fur
collar and crossed to the opposite pavement.
He was in no mood for hail-fellow-well-met
greetings. As he walked along his thoughts
became so intense and rapid as to be painfully
confusing.

" Wliat if this scandalous rumor were true ?
Would his mother not be justified in the '^ourse
she had taken, would it not have been a delib-
erate compromise witli evil if she had done other-

•■. (■

.ut

I'll

h iiV

252 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

Avise ? " It was customary u\ their circle to spurn
a leprobate woman with sctuit ceremony, if she
Wi\^ poor or unfriended by the SlUe, and lie knew
that Mrs. Dimsdale was nothing if not conve;>-
tional.

The sole object of her life seemed lo be to
conform strictly to the codes and exactions of
polite society. She wvis entirely superficini,
and based her rr;:,:,ons Uj.on popular beliefs and
prejudices. She :*. id i- prim iti ve method of judg-
ing humanity, divHuig ^hmn into two separate
heaps labelled " good ' and - bad," and they were
either good or bad not so much on account of
their conduct, as I^ecause the magnates of tlje
upper circle had decreed that they should be so
called.

As to the intricate hidden mechanism of mo-
tives, heredity, or environment, she had no in-
terest in it, she had no wish to dive into the
depths of reason or conjecture, when it was so
much easier to keep to the surface and swim
with the shallow tide of public opinion. Her
own sheltered life had made her severe in her
censure of all unfortunate persons who yielded
to temptation; the thing itself, as touching the
moral forces of life, was an unknown quantity
to her, and as is tlie case invariabl3% ignorance
and inexperience had begotten a certain narrow-
pess that is antagonistic to charity. *

ail

MRS. CHESTER. 253

No one knew tliis better tlian her eldest son,
d no one had more cause to regret it than he,
now when he knew that she had turned against
the child of her most intimate friend, without
even giving her that opportunity to vindicate
herself which common justice demanded. A
feeling of intense bitterness took possession of
him. For the first time in his filial experience
he was indignant with 'his mother. Surely a
woman in Mrs. Chester's circumstances, or-
phaned at an early age and married in her
immaturity to a man many years her senior,
was entitled to the utmost generosity and
leniency of judgment, in regard to any in-
discretions of which she might have been
guilty.

Knowing the woild as he did, he could easily
gauge the temptations of a charming society
woman unfortunately situated, and could find
excuses for many things which would liave
sliocked his motlier beyond hope of forgiveness.

Nevertheless he had a high ideal of pure
womanhood to whicli lie paid homage, and con-
stantly cherished in coimection with a seciet
hope which might some day be realized ; and
presently, in spite of his efforts to avoid the
subject, he found himself becoming uncomfort-
ably interested in the tragic story he had just
heard. Hi^ mother's vague insinuations stirred

'' if:.

254 SAINTS. siyyERs and queer people.
W»M.„easily and took a firm l.old of Jus i„,agi„.

"Wlmt if tl,is vile tiling were true" he
a«k«^^„n.elf, "how would it affect .,i.fe,i„g:
towards th.s woman who had been tl,e eon.nal
1011 of h,s childl,ood, the ehoice of his eaHv

nianhood, the inspiration of his ent!:: S
Could he n, just.ce to hiu.self and his family
make her Ins w.te or even continue the frank
fnendslnp which had existed l,etween them
previous to l,s departure?" Yet how to believe

lit'' faith. ^ ' """ '"'' ""^ ^"I"'""« '^^' °f
A sharp pang shot through his heart as by a

ull tvt r"';t""\"^'"""- -"-io»-ess he

f« extent of Ins love was revealed to him.

Supposing she had sinned would he, John

Dimsdale take upon himself the unwarrantable

presumphon of judging and condemning her'

Sbould he have the Iiypoerisy to stand aloof,

in Pharisaical attitude and utter the popular

platitudes upon virtue ? No, God forbid '

" And yet, can a blemished name be washed
.so white that there is no f^e of the stain, ca. a
cankered rose regain ite pure, pristine beauty' "
Ah,-the thought was too painful, yet he nerved
lumself to face it. Gradually a tender com-
passion stole in upon his tortnre.l senses like
sudden calm after a storm ; his heart burned '

MRS. CHESTER. gSS

in fervent, cliivalrous defence of the girl he
loved. °

" I'oor little Nellie, life had been hard for
her and the world was cruel! He would
take her away with him to Europe and she
would soon forget the miserable past. In the
midst of congenial surroundings she should
liave ample opportunity to develop her noblest
possibilities, and the sad time wherein she had
been untrue to her highest instincts of woman-
liness sliould be banished from her memory like
a hateful dream."

He was so occupied with his thoughts that
It was a surprise to him when he looked up sud-
denly and found that he had reached his destina-
tion. Number 316 was a small brick house of
unpretentious appearance, but gave evidence of
a refined inmate. The two front windows were
prettily curtained and filled with rare house-
plants. There was an air of almost supernatural
stillness about the place which struck Dimsdale
unpleasantly, but he was in too sanguine and

thot'tt'' "''''''^ ^"^ ^''''' '^ """"'^ ^^''''' "" P"""'"'^
He bounded ^ip the steps and rang the bell
impetuously. The door opened softly and a
sweet-faced old lady in a plain black dress and
white cap stood before him md said in a sub-
clued voice ;

r '

\"\I:M

• i\'

in]

auG SAINTS, SI^yj^Bs AND qUBMH Pt:oPlE.

"Good-afteriio

Jed. ""' '*'"'" '"'• ^'"^^'^^ "^«»?" he

"It is Not that she'll live here lone noor
lamb. W ill you step in, sir ? " *^' '^°"

. "May I see her, please'' ■,„ ,„,„,„.ea ,„.

St. 1 stepping softly she led the way into the
parlor .nd offered hin, a chair

"Be seated, sir," she said, primly, as she
took v ehau- near him and folded he plul

I:: no^ "'^\'T"' "« ^^'•- ^'--1''' ■■«

you not .? Yes, I ti,oug|,t «„. I „eve.. i„id
eyes on y before,-but my p„o hunb yond r"
nodding her head towards the eurtai.fed areh-
way, "has spoken of you so often (hat I knot
you ,vthout un introduction. I a,„ Mrs. Bur

wTti,!""^ !'^P'■"f«^^i°"• I've been living
with my lamb f,,r the last two yeai«, eve!

'hanjoiare/ ""'''""•"""■»' '^""ol-

. "May Inotsee her?" i^k, d tlie young felW
impatient y, be omir '• ,mo ■,,.,1 '"S 'eiiow
by the delf;. ■' ' "♦ '"'^ ""^"'^d

"All in good time, sir," was t!. ; gentlo re
«ponse. " I suppose you hav -.ea- „fmy,;o„;
lady's misfortunes ? " ^ ^

"■i^es," lie replied, mechani..aUy.

JtfflS. CBBSTSR. 257

" Tlie most misjudged i„„ocei,t, sir, tlmt ever
..eathed, and all along of that scamp of a brouL
ot hera. You remeiiibor Dick ? I pronl.esied
whenhe.,^a,.aU,i„armstl.ahewL!;c '

I,ild I r . r *"" *'"^ "■"^' tro«blcson.c

c "Id I ever dosed with Mrs. Wii.slow's sootl-

'|8;y.«p, and wullced the floor with till mid-

".o ths, and l„s n,„ ,er so ill and little Miss
Nelhe scarcely able to toddle." Mrs. Burto
seemed to be overwhehned by this su.lde flood
of .cnnn.scence. She paused and gasped for
breath, then added humbly: I'™ wr

"Begging pardon, sir, you'll not I« interested

aie, .s . But I will say that Master Dick had a
bad disposition from the time be weighed tL
pou Is a„d had the jaundice. Butthetll':
»» ehatte,l,ox when I get started. My poor
^.mb doc.Vt seem to miud how „,y ,^„'gu"
wags ; she says it amuses her." ^

"How was Dick mixed up with his ^ 'or',
recent troubes?" a.skpd n;™.! i ..,

wearily. ^ Dimsdale a trifl..

" Haven't you hear,., sir ? But no, of course
you wouldn't h.ar, for my ,amb didn't' ^ Lh it o

ought to bo told, so that the ono !n the wronc
should get the blam and the one ;„ the right

258 sAmrs. siy^sns anu «w^„ ^^^^^^
M get the credit of it! It w., thi» ,va^,

hor^Tl^'"'^ ""' "'1° t'""''le. .stole ,no„ov
fiom a biink an.I .,.(1 to leave the countrv 7^7

>"gUwl,enthedeteetive« vveio,f(,',r ^' '

."i^guised to.ee his »i.ste:a:u';.tr;;:
rd:"'"v;;^rv""-"^'""-"'''«-^^

man »u_„,aybe you re.nen.hei- him '-susnenl
SI., vvthout waiting to discover the truth 3'

wouMha^XwL'lnS.^y:,;"';-''

i-«e, and serve ,.. ri,ht;t;Si:::::

::?:fr'^"^^'>--<'Din.sduie.

seen stce T^ "'''' ""''""^ '"'« '«'''^'- "»«"
rh?«f T "■' '""" '*"<''' " P»ni« over Mr

Ches ters eo„d,t o„, being taken so ala™ ngy
, " ■»" 01 'i su'lilen and the noise nf tl,„ ■ V ,
Bhot« having startled the houet hat t "'
scamp easily escaped notice '1^1, '7;""!
fellow, and sharp in his way. Ah welt h^ 1
comet^judgmentsomedayiAedoesn; I'L'

rit

Mlis. CllEHTEti.

259

He lias Ungl.t a sight of trouble upon his poor
sister who tried to help liim."
^ " Why WHS tlie matter never expUiued T" ho
inquired excitedly, " why has she been allowed
to remain under this heavy cloud of suspicion
when a clear statement of facts would iiave vin-
dicated her?"

" Well, sir you see lie was her only brother
and she loved him in si>ite of all his wickedness,
and she hated to tell on him. I've an idea that
she knows now where he is, but he could be
taken ,f any one found out, and she couldn't
bear to have him sent to prison. The papers
got hold of the other story, and all my poor
lambs friends turned against her. I doubt
If they would have done it, sir, if she hadn't lost
Iier money at the same time, for there's plenty
of them no better than they take her to be. But
Its a cruel world, a bad cold, cruel world, that's
what it IS."

Dimsdale started to his feet exclaiming with
intense emotion, which he could no longer re-
strain, °

" Oh, let me go to her at once ; why do you
keep me sitting here ? What good can talking
do her Mypoordavling! What she must have
suffered ! "

" Hush ! " said Dame Burton soothingly. " I
will take you to her when she wakes. She has

< .

2Co SAINTS, smNEits AND Qtf:^En pmpm

been sleeping sweetly in the next room. She
was in need of it for her cough keeps her awake
at nights."

« I'll take lier away from here. We will start
tins week if she is able to get ready so soon,"
continued the young man in a rapid, buoyant
manner, as he sank back into his chair. "You
shall come too ; you liave been her friend. I
. thank you for it with all my heart. You shall
never want f9r anything."

To his dismay, he observed that instead of
sharing his sanguine anticipations the old ladv
seemed to be completely overcome by an em<;
tion tliat was the reverse of joyous. Her head
dropped in her hands, and the tears which come
slowly and painfully to the aged, trickled
through her fingei-s.
^^It's too late now, sir," she said, at last.
I thought you knew that my poor lamb is
dynig of consumption. Everything has been
done, but it's no use. She can't last much
longer. The doctor says she may linger till
spring, but it's more tlian probable that she will
go before the month is out."

Dimsdale stared at the tearful woman in a
dazed, uncomprehending way. Surely she was
exaggerating the seriousness of the ca^^e. " Nellie
was not dying? She must not die. Money and
skill could do great things." A slight cough

Mas. criESTtjU.

2G1

broke the silence. He was on his feet imme-
diately and had taken a rapid step toward the
adjoining apartment, when the nurse laid a
restraining hand upon liis shoulder.

" Wait," she said authoritatively under lier
breath. " She is too weak to be startled. I'll
go in first and gradually break the news to her
that you are here." She parted the curtains and
disappeared.

He heard her speak soothingly in a low tone
as a mother speaks to a sick child.

"Have you slept well, my lamb? Ah,
that's good. Your pretty eyes are as bright as
stars. What if Santa Clans should bring you a
fine Chris Lmas present? What would you like
best of all, my pet ? "

" If I had my choice, I should ask to see Jack
once more. I've been thinking of him all day.
But he is far away, I shall never see him again,"
she said, as she sighed we.arily.

" Don't be too sure, my sweet," chuckled the
old dame, " strange things happen at Christmas
time. Supposing Grandma were to bring him
to yon now, would you talk quietly and not get
excited so as to bring on a spell of cough-
ing ? "

A long drawn exclamation of surprise and de-
light from the invalid brought Dimsdale a few
paces nearer. Another instant and he was

i I

.;i

S62 SAllMTS, mifEliS Am QUEER PEOPtS.

Closely within lua own, and endeavoiine to con
t^l the pent-up feeling, which sui-gel wi ,1

S e ; J wTTm '"T"'"" '«"''-™^^ l«t>vee
*re uT„!f";' "^f • '''"■"'" ^^"^ conspicuously

treated to the farthest end of the room.

lou don't look so very ill," he said, reeard
'ng her critically, and realizing that it 3)1
duty to conform to the orthodL sXZ 1
portment and affect a decree of r.1,^ t?
"Youhave a bright, p,t:^:;J,rS^-

"1" ""V:r^'^ ""^ °f -. ''oesn't sh^
nnrse .' But his heart sank a, ho noted the
extreme emaciation of the f,«=e and figu.e wh£

coir '""' '--'^''' *- ">«^- -S

The large brown eyes were unnaturally la,™
m contmt with the wan, pinched cheeks Z
blue-ve ned brow was too delicately v.ie' the
sweet V a trifle worn and sad, and [oo so,',!
outlined by the surrounding trace, of suffeS
suggest Health. She woie a dainty, flo f
™be of soft, creamy fabric, which felHrom hf
slender throat in billows of lace, an old fa^.!
jed, exquisite relic of bygone prosperit,, t^
of a time when M,^. Chester, exercising a , etty

piide in the replenishment of her wardrobe.

Mrs. CHESTER. 263

" You have changed so much," she said, after
watcliing liim intently.

"For the woi-se or the better?" he asked
gayly, with an affectionate pressure of lierliand.

" Decidedly for the better," she returned Avith
a smile, and speaking with the simple frankness
of a child who is not afraid of being misunder-
stood. "You are bigger and handsomer. It
is such a satisfaction to see you again, dear Jack.
- You don't know how happy I am. I have
been lonely for such a long time. Often I have
thouglit while lying here that it would be so
pleasant to see you and have a long talk of the
old days. I don't know why, but I have always
felt sure of your friendship even when those
whom I trusted the most have failed me."

She paused in an effort to regain composure.
Dimsdale could not speak, he felt as if he were
stifling.

"Lately I have been living altogether in tlie
past," she continued, more calmly, " recalling
the time when I was a merry school-girl and you
trudged along by my side, carrying my books.
Such a tall, thin boy, you were, and you always
had apples and tafty in your pockets." She
laughed feebly and her eyes met his through a
mist of tears.

He quickly interposed with his fictitious cheer^
fulness : —

! i

i ^ir

204 fiAi.yT.% simms ANn QVum people.

" Those were happy days, Nellie. I shall

or'.r.ri.';'';''-""-."!.."

He bent h>s head lower and looked into her
face wth an expression of infinite yearni"! .„d

my's^ake ?"!'e'"T»'™"S »"<! well, dearest, for

years a,o, Neft I wTd ^r"""!"'"'^"

a touch of reproach in his vll" ~""" ""

Her breath fluttered a little and l,e could feel

erett';:?;'''"^'';'"^- «-'-^-'-J^e^

"ere tent full upon him in perfect candor and
a W surprise glowed in their depths

'••.nd I •'/"" "T ""'^'" ''^'ef'ned cheerily,

m .tried Z T T"^ *" S''' "'''"' ^^« «'-" »«

We w dn "f" "''"** "'" •""•=*'"■« «ay,

' W.11 do more for you than medicines.

'ill
I i' m

MPS. CnESTER.

265

What nonsense to talk of dying, you liave never
really lived.' He laughed in his conseiousness
of strength and power. Hope was stvong witliin

"Dear Jack, do not deceive yourself," said
Mrs. Chester with streaming eyes. " I shall
never be well. For months I have longed to
die-there seemed to be nothing to hold me
to earth. But now "-her voice faltered pite-
ously-" oh, I could wish, I could pray to live
now for your sake, if it were possible." She
reached up one thin little hand and stroked his
lace with a lingering, loving touch.

"It shall be possible," he said, confidently.

Listen, sweetheart. I know a doctor, a ve.y

famous doctor, in New York, who has cured more

than one case of consumption. I shall wire him

to-night.

She shook her head with a sad smile.

" I didn't know you cared for me like that,"
she said softly. « Poor Jack ! "

Her voice was husky and presently she had a
severe fit of coughing which left her weak and
gasping for breath.

" No more talk, darling, it tires you," he said,
bending over her with a lover's solicitude.
"Lie titill and think ot the future."

"H[is Grandma to.il you about Dick?" she
asked almost in a ^i':usper.

iMik.

I! I

266 SAIXTS. smifSRS ANt, qVBEn PEOPLE.
He nodded.
"And about all that dreadful time '"

yoursein.y te I.ng „,e," he returned soothingly
"Henceforth it shall be the effort of my mt
make you forgot that you were ever ZilZ^'
She watehed him with restlea,, ea"e eves
and he saw that it would be a rel ef to heT t^
unburden her mind to one who eould l! 'ten

P.- entT 1, """"-*-"'"■? and sympttj
P.esently. w,tl. frequent pauses for breath she

V.U, relatmg the bitter experiences of the pS
ho yeaj. ,„,,„,,, difl„^„,^ sentences. wS

she**b!i"5^^ t'"'ve struggle against misfortune
she had endeavored to earn a living bv teach
2 »'»fe and painting, but without su^et
When ,,,e ^ent to the houses of her arist„

and humbly asOng for pupils, the doom were
rudej^slammed in her face, and some stinr!
taunt flung at her to increase her wretchedife s

Her warmest friends, many of whom had
been secretly jealous of her, seemed to derive a
malignant satisfaction from her downfanlnd
tossed their haughty heads in sco n a 'th J
passed her on the street. ^

"I don't know what I should have done if it

nil

MRS. CHESTER.

267

hadn't been for Grandma," she concluded with
an affectionate glance at the old lady wlio sat
near tlie couch waiting for an opportunity to
take part in the convei-sation.

" Wlien I read about tliat sliooting case in the
Globe,'' said the kind-hearied dame, fumbling
suspiciously with Iior spectacles, "I said to
Maria, my sister, where I was staying at the
time, says I, 'My lamb's in trouble and I'm
a-going to lier. I helped get her into this world
and I'jn going to help her through it somehow.'
Maiia said I was a fool to travel hundreds of
miles for the sake of a woman who was no kin
to me and maybe wouldn't caie to see me when
1 got there.

"But all the same I catne, and it turned
out that I was needed badly enougli. It's
little that I can do, but I'm glad to do it.
Her mother and fatiier were good to me in their
lifetime and I'll not s-ee their child left friend-
less and destitute if I can help it ; and, God be
praised I am able to do a good day's work yet,
though I am past seventy..

" My precious lamb with all her cleverness
and high-toned accomplishments, couldn't earn
an honest penny. The rich ones, who were only
too glad to associate with her in her prosi^erity,
turned their backs on her and snubbed her.
They seemed to take pleasure in believing

; i

» ^f;.

268 SAiyrs. «/.v.vCT« and grrmn peopim.
everj-thing that was said against hor But
2 ," "" '"'"■«'"«-' old bod/ ike me

.rtiitst^ ire.::r :t"""' -: -

Uimsdale gave a sl,o.t, scornful lauffl, Tl,,-
so-called conscientious scruples of a ccrh
lass of socjety, whose code of^noralit; aff d
an ".teresfug study in the intricacies of cU
seek.„g „,„fo,e, expediency, and outside co
formuy to popular views of right and wro,^
'"'I? "■^'^'^y^ vastly amusing to him. *"

Nurse Burton laughed too in an ironical wtv
a. she added: "I tell my lamb tha Ttl ^
"long of my being old and ugly. It i.^ •/ ' '
anybod/s while to try and'i^ ure n^ L;: "'

The young man's heart throbbed painfully as

vaW, whose every glance and motion revealed
he sweet patience of her spirit. HerTo't

mo^, hs-the monotony and blank hopelessnes!
of a hfe shut out from all touch of kinship with
the happy world, from the vivifying i„fl ,en el
of congenial companionship and refined a^
c.a, on represented a condition of cxistret
which It was beyond his power to realise. He

MR8. CfTESTER.

269

could not meet it even in thouglit, but instinc-
tively retreated from it as from some unknown
horror.

" She never had lady callers," continued the
garrulous nurse, "none but an evangelist woman
who prayed and read the Bible, as if my lamb
wasn't as good as the best of them. I wish I
had cauglit her at it. I'd have given her a piece
of my mind ! Two kind gentlemen used to
drop in of an aftei-noon. Tliey were leal pleas-
ant, and thouglit no harm of my young mis-
tress. Tiiey promised to bring their wives, but
they didn't do it after all ; then I guess they felt
embarrassed because they couldn't keep their
word, for they stopped coming.

"Some fine gentlemen of the aristocracy used
to come too in the evenings. But my lady
would never see them, and she sent back tlieir
baskets of roses and lovely nosegays. It seemed
a pity for her to be so proud and independent
with them, they had elegant mannei-s, such as she
wasaccustomedto, and they might have made
life pleasanter for her."

A hot flush overspread Mrs. Chester's delicate
face and her chest rose and fell tumultuously
beneath her loose robe.

Dimsdale muttered an inaudible invective
and bit his lips savagely. He knew tlie kind
of gentlemen, and felt a passionate revulsion

V I

ill

270 SAINTS, SINNERS AND qUELR PEOPLE.

against all humanity. The evangelist, who
Btrengthened hei-self in goilliness by a few for-
mal seasons of prayer with a stricken woman ;
the kind, charitable, elderly men, who were gen-
uinely sorry, but failed to influence their wives
in lier favor and soon abandoned their benevo-
lent purposes; the aristocratic gentlemen, who
sent gifts and came by night, cherishing what
was to thenij a pleiusant belief in her guilt ; the
fashionable women, who drew aside their skirts
and slannned their doors, many of them knowing
full well that their own lives would not bear in-
spection ;— how he detested and despised them all.
Those who were not consciously malicious and
hypocritical, ;?!r,ked the moral coui age which
alone could ;;..-. bone and fibre to their chari-
table convictioiKi. They weie all living illustra-
tions of the wuiM's instability and fickleness, and
as such he despised them ; reflecting upon the
credulity of the masses to believe a wrong which
would bring into agreeable contrast their own
professed virtues.

There was a sharp ring at the door-bell fol-
lowed by a sudden rush of cold air into the cosy
room, as Mrs. Burton answered thesunmions.
" A lad to see you, sir," she said.
Dimsdale stepped into the hall and saw a
newsboy standing on the threshold, who handed
hira a sealed envelope.

MRS. CHhSTER.

271

He carried llie letter to tlie window and read
in his moLlier'a delicate handwriting : —

*' Have you forgotten that we are giving a re-
ception in your lionor this evening and that it
will ho awkward to account for y« m- ahisence ?
Already several of your old friend.^ ing just

heard of your arrival, have drop} ii to see

you, and I am at a loss to know ' iiat to say.
In this instance I wish to H\nu<t myself the
humiliation of telling the truth, but 1 am not
clever ; inventing excuses. Do not chill our
joy at .\<>ur home-coming by a stubborn defi-
ance of my wishes. Come at once and oblige,

" Your Mother."

. The young man lield the message before him
a moment in silent contemplation. It was char-
acteristic of the woman in its tone of selfishness,
conventional it}', and evident determination to
ignore Mrs. Chester except by tlie insinuation
of an insult. Not a word of courtesy or good-
will for this unfortunate young creature, who, if
the worst said of her had been true, had been
sufficiently punished for Ihm sin.

Yet it was Christmas day, and from the
vaulted choirs of holy sanctuaries erected for
the worship of the all-loving, all-merciful God,
glad anthems had pealed forth upon the crisp
morning air heralding " Peace on earth, good-
will to men." And the people, Mrs. Diinsdale

Si
I I"

MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

^ ^?PPy§gjVHGE Inc

1653 East Main Street

(°J6^'t82-XrPHa^r°' ^^
(716) 288-S989-Fax

272 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

among them, had listened and assented with
reverently bowed heads, and an uplifted con- •
scousness of piety, and then had gone away as
those who have no understanding.

Dimsdale took a paper-pad from his pocket
and wrote hurriedly in pencil :

" Dear Mother ;

as von\T"^ t"" "Pf ^>^«"»-pl^"«' but I cannot do
as you ask. I am trying to make a happy Christ-
mas for one who needs it, and J sffi no ^
home till quite late. Make whatever excused
you may think proper. excuses

" Jack."

He sealed this note and gave it to the boy,
who touched his cap respectfully and vanished.

As he re-entered the room, Mrs. Chester looked
at him appealingly.

" You are not going to leave me ? » she said.
No he replied. " I shall stay as loner a^
you and nurse will permit. I am at your service '
tor the remainder of the day."

Mrs. Burton's face took on an expression of
momentary disquiet, and her eyes turned ap-
prehensively towards the sideboard.

" We don't keep Christmas here as you do in
your fine home," she said, " but we will be glad
to have you stay and sliare our frugal supi^er."
Dimsdale murmured a polite repl^ and fell

MRS. CHESTER. 273

into rapid thought. Christmas, and ]io Christ-
mas dinner ! For himself he did not care, he
had the excellent normal appetite which can
subsist on plain diet, and, moreover, lie was at
present lifted to such a soul-satisfying emotional
altitude that the mere physical act of eating was
of little moment. But there is sometiiing im-
perative in the law of association, and Christ-
mas without the usual complement of a well-
spread table seemed essentially incomplete.

Suddenly he bethought himself of a restau-
rant in the city which was always open for the
benefit of the homeless, and where meals could '
be procured upon short notice. He would ffo
out and telephone. Nellie must have her Christ-
mas dinner. Making some excuse about having
Dusiness to do which would not occupy more
than a few minutes, he hastily withdrew.
Nuree followed him into the hall.
" Don't wire that doctor you mentioned, sir "
she said in a low voice. "It's no use, believe
me. I wouldn't say it if I didn't know."

His countenance fell, but he was persistently
hopeful. "^

" My good woman," he replied, « ' while there
IS life there is hope.' I cannot give her up.
You must let me do all that is possible."

His errand was quickly performed, and he
was back almost immediately.

: I

274 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

He looked radiant as he re-entered the room
and resumed his seat near the coucli. The wind
had blowii his fair liair over his fovehead, and he
brushed it back in careless fasliion. There was
a dash of color in his cheeks, and a cheerful in-
fluence seemed to radiate from his manly fi£ru,e
so broad of chest and slmulders, and from his
evident consciousness of power.

'^Well, I have given you over into the hands
of the famous pill and medicine man," he said
sm.ling. «^e will send some remedies by mail
inimediately, and the day after to-.norrow he
will leave New York for Toronto."
Mrs. Chester gave him a wan smile.
" Thank you, Jack," she said, with a tender
quiver in her voice, her eyes full of wistful grati-
tude. But she had the air of indulging a caorice
born of delusion because the outspoken truth
would be too cruel, and the yo^- man, intently
watching her every movemen; , i shade of ex-
pression, divined with quick app ehension that
she did not share his sanguine convictions, and
his enthusiasm received a slight chill.

The gray winter twilight steadily advanced.
Mrs. Burton lighted a lamp, and put more coals
upon the fire ; then, as she began to set the table
for the evening meal, a great hamper of provis-
ions was brought to the door, which, when un-
loaded exhaled pleasing odors of roast turkey and

MRS. TIESTEn.

275

Steaming plum-pudding. Tliere Avere also
creams, jellies, and meringues~a veritable feast
of good tilings.

"Bless my lieart! Is the man crazy?" ex-
claimed the nurse, with an astonished look at
Dimsdale, but slie nevertheless carried the par-
cels to the kitchen-table with unusual alacrity
and went about the preparations with increased
enei'gy and cheerfulnesc:-

" My poor lamb can't ea , anything," she said,
pausing in one of hev tiips to the sideboard,
" more's the pity with such tempting victuals in
sight." .

"No? I am sorry for that," returned Dims-
dale, busying himself witli tlie knotted cord of
a pf^steboard box, " but I have something here
which is generally acceptable to sick people."
He raised tlie lid and disclosed a mass of freshly
cut roses, crimson, yellow, and white, reposing
upon a bed of moss. Lifting a long-stemmed
cluster he laid it against the invalid's clieek.

Mrs. Cliester's quick exclamation of delight
went through him like a dart of pain. It told
him more plainly than anytliing else could liave
done, the barrenness and sacrifices of her altered
circumstances, the unsatisfied longings, and little
grinding economies.

The Mrs. Chester of former days would have
received a simple gift of flowers with the smil-

4= 'I

276 .umr,, Simons ANB ^vi^m PMOPm

inggraciousness of a sociotv ,„„..,

to such elegancies ^f ^'"'""«» "ccustonied

been delically rescfec 77'"' """''' ''"^^
polite. ^ "seuecl, „nd conventionally

aOm alio ^sirir'^"'"" *» ''"l" ^n^ts o
One large L. fell IlT" ?' '"« ''^•'^'- *'-"•
upon tlte Z%!^Zal:'tT\'t'''''
Dimsdale was intensely I'd t a,.? ™'i
her pleasure. ^ ''® P*"'»« of

" I love them so," she laM <> i*
of.you to think of'riel "one d iTt^Tf
pamt a spray like this from memorv tM, *!
small picture on the easel • ZT^' V' """
finish it. I ffot ve, tT V ^ ^°" '^''' ^ '"''"'t

didn't look ou t^nt f """r^'"^ "' "' "'"l it
luuK quite natural, so T o-nvo ,-4.

B-theyrnrottifTaslr,/-

honor to the occ-ision ]>!/ • *"" '"''» ''"'
of finery in th shT" Z T'"^ "" "'^''"^ '^'«'"'
hows. They t h dd I. T "'^ "'"' P"'k
festive spirfts and d * .'■ ''''* *" "''I-^" ■"
ing dinner ' ^° J"'""* *° *">« Wetiz-

MRS. CIIERTEIi. 211

But it Avas a pitiful farce so far as Dimsdale
was c. .ceined. The gon-^ nurse Avas more
successful ill disguising lier anxiety iu recrard to
the patient, probably reflecting with tlie^'praeti-
cal philosophy of an old person, tliat it is
folly to become so absorbed in an emotion as
to lose tlie advantages of a Christmas dinner,
winch comes, at best, but once a year. An an-
ticipated sorrow can always wait, losing none of
Its poignancy in intervals of forgetfulness, but
a hot meal grows cold and is Avasted.

Mi-s. Chester lay back among lier cushions
wrapped in a delicious languor, some of the
vivid crimson roses nestling in the lace upon
her throat and breast. Her eyes were half-closed
and her breath, as it came tlirougli her parted
lips, lightly stirred the dainty lingerie. The
pretty hectic flush had died out of her face wliich
was now marble-like in its pallpr. Slie smiled
dreamily Avlien Dimsdale bent over her in a
fresh access of anxiety.

"Do you feel any worse, dearest?" he asked.
"No," she replied, in a whisper, "only
tired."

With a keen sense of reaction from hope to
utter discouragement he sat doAvn beside her ;
and, taking her hand, pressed his finger upon
her pulse. How feeble and intermittent it was I
Once it seemed to him that it stopped altogether,

278 SAINTS, SINNeHS AND QtytlEn PEOPlH

But she ,v,« only dozing and presently roused

to con,.lete cou»eiou.sness of her sunouudir.

Jack could you cany n,e to the window'"

she asked faintly. "I s|,oul,, like fo look out

on the sky and snow-covered earth once more "

Very tenderly he lifted her in his a,,ns, and
could have cned aloud as he did so. So little did

a met'^;". /''■"'^"'' """ ^'"^ ""«'" '-v« '-een
a mere cliild.

nilrw'r'/'"^ ^r^"^ ""'"" ""^ Christmas
mglt which was beautiful with the gleaming

crystal of .ce and fleecy draperies It snow

Overhead, m a clear sky, shone the pale moon

pouring forth her silverglorynpon housetop ,urd

avement. A party of young gids, with gen-
tlemen escorts, passed down the street. They
Ave.-e laughing and talking merrily, and their
vojces jarred rudely upon the silence.

He looked down upon the face resting on his
s^ u der a,,d marvelled at its calm, fpi,,tual

,w; ! f ■ J^T ''•'" ^""'^"""g i" I'er expression
winch awed him and kept his ardent passion in .
check. Almost insensibly during the h«t few

them, making his love more remote and reverent;
and this vague sense of enforced distance was
positive torture, the harder to endure becaus^

Mas. iyimsT^n.

lie could not explain it, nor beat it away with
his human logic. He longed to clasp her close
in a tempest of yearning love and rebellion
against impending fate.

In the mutual sunender of their meeting
hearts he had realized the dream of his life,
and with the sweetness of their first kiss still
upon his lips, this intangible presence inter-
vened like a barrier and commanded him to
be silent. " What did it mean ? Could it be
possible that she was indeed going from him
into the far-off immensity of the unknown?"
A sharp pang seized him. He pressed her closer
to him, awkwardly conscious of his rugged
health and sensuous temperament, and their
contrast to her ethereal personality.

She was speaking, and he bent his head to
catch the faint, fluttering whisper.

" Jack, I want to talk to you. It will be the
last time. Put your ear clc )• to my lips,
Grandma need not hear. Dear Jack, I caii't
live to be yoiir wife. For a few minutes after
you came, I fought against it, against going
away and leaving you. I had visions of possible
happiness in the gay world we both know so
well, but it can never be and I am resigned."
She fell into a short silence, breathing with dif-
ficulty.

"Don't cry, Jack. There is nothing terrible

•I

1! i;

,;1! i

m .1AtlfT.'<, .S7.V.VCT.S AN,, QVKEn PEOpU

in deati, The sei.aiation f ,„,„ love.l ones makes
all Its bitterness, and even tliat sting is taken
ti-om me, because my love, like my so„l, will
live forever. I know I shall always think of
you and care for you. I p,»y God that my
spirit may sometimes be permitted to hover near
you aiKl eommune of the things invisible. I
have been drifting away for a long time, farther
and farther away, but I a„, not nfmid. It is all
strange and bewildering. I ean't see where I
am going but some unseen foree is upholding
me and I have no dread of the future." There
waa another pause and brief struggle for breath,
then she continued : •

" My life l.asn't been very happy or success-
lul. I seem to have lost my way on some
crooked path, wliile wandering in the dark. Mv
marriage was a mistake and trouble came of it
but I haven't sinned as people said I did."

" Those slanderous vipers have murdered vou »
he broke foi-th passionately. '

" No, not tliat. It was hard at fii^t, and as I
lost hope and ambition, my hold on life was
weakened. There seemed to be nothing worth
caring for. But the disease would l,ave over-
taken me m any case, perhaps not so quickly if
I had struggled against it." For several n",in.
utes she lay so pale and still that the warmth of
her body seemed to be the only evidence that

kits. tHItlHtEtl

2si

the spiiit had not already taken flight. But
presently she sjwke again,

"I wonder what kind of a place it is," she
said musingly, "the place to which I am
drifting? I try to think about it, but I
can't. I think there will be joy there, and
peace."

" Yes, my darling," assented Dimsdale huskily,
— joy and peace."

" And Divine pity, and— and— justice," the
weak voice continued with faltering emphasis
on the last Avord.

" Yes, Nellie, that perfect justice which is

denied us on earth."

"I want you to do a few things for me. Jack,

after I am gone. This key lianging round my

neck belongs to the drawer of my writing-table.

When you open it you will find a letter to Dick.

I haven't been able to post it myself, and I dared
not trust any one. It is addressed to an assumed
name, but someone might suspect. I can eon-
fide i! V ou, you will never betray "

^ " No, never, my darling. I'll send the letter.
I'll try to see him and help him."

" I couldn't give him up to the law; no one
must discover where he is. Man's law is so
cruel, so short-sighted, it sees nothing beyond
the crime itself. I leave him in God's hands.
He understands everything and will not judge

III:

282 /lAINT,. mNBns Am, WEBn PBOPls.

poor Dick too h«ml,l.v. A„.l, Jack, U, good to
limii'J.ua, for my sake." *"

oW, but steadily advanced till it pervaded il,l
wl.0 „.„,„ and .oftly enfolded th „: . L^
in Its embrace. Mis Tiii,fo» ^^"P'"its

q-ely, ,v .i^e Din.sdalc, in .,.e stnti r f
tens ty and s«,,e.„at«ral stillness of Lis bein

" Is there notliincr elsn ,«., ~,- i .
dearest 1> lV„ti • * ^ " "'^'' '" say.

Clearest ? No Inng you would like me to do ? "

-She roused he-self fron, the stupor into which

the fa-off, unseeing ga.e of one who looks from

sciiiity ot space.

"Nothing more except to remember me al-

ejes sti 1 fixed blindly upon him she murmured
almost inaudibly, in the voice of a drowsy" id
whose senses are partially dulled by sleep!-

TTiank y„„ so much, dear Jack, for a laDny
Christmas, a happy day-beautiful roses "'^^^
A gray shadow was creeping over her face
olowly, rnexorably, dimming' the lines of 7*;

MliS. (HESTER.

283

sweet lips. IIo laid I,is Land caressingly upon
Jier forehead, it was cool and damp.

An undefined fear took possession of l.im.
The nurse came forward, beckoning dundjly
toward the coucli. Mechanically he obeyed,
like a man walking in iiis sleep. Why was she'
heavier now ? One of the roses fell from lier
breast. It was wilted.

* * * * ♦

It was long past midnight. The dazzling
light from the spangled gasoliers of t.io diaw-
jng-room flared above a scene of dreary splendor
The guests had departed, the younger members
ot the family had retired, and Mrs. Dimsdale
was alone.

The room was in that state of unpicturesque
confusion which follows an evening of social
gayety. Packs of cards were lying loose upon
marble-topped and ebony tables, sheet music
was scattered upon the piano, and the dancing
room across the hall, in its absolute nakedness
of furniture, looked especially forloin and de-
serted.

The hostess, in cap slightly askew and silk
dress clinging limply to her drooping figure,
presented an aspect in ke^^ping with her sur-
roundings, yet it was very evident that her
worn appearance and dejection of spirits were
more the result of mental disturbance thivn o|

• I-

' '31

■ %

. I

284 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE:

physical weariness. She paced the floor rest-
lessly, impatiently, pausing from time to time
to listen for sounds upon the street. Her
stern mouth had the pinched look of one
who suffers. Her thoughts were bitter. Jack
was her first-born^ her pride ; his filial devotion
had been her greatest comfort; yet, to-day for
the first time, his will had risen up against her,
he had questioned her wisdom, defied her com-
mands, set her ruthlessly to one side and taken
his own course'.

" What had she done," she asked herself,
" to justify this treatment ? " Only what many
other estimable and anxious mothers are con-
stantly doing from a conscientious sense of
duty. She had schemed and plotted for his good,
as she supposed, to prevent the possibility of
an unde^iirable connection, and this was her
thanks. He turned his back on her, and walked
in the way she disapproved.

The door opened quietly and the subject of
her agitated thoughts stood before her. As the
hall light fell full upon him, it brought into
startling effect the gray pallor of his face. It
was haggard and seamed as with age and sorrow
—all the glad youth stricken from it.

Mrs. Dimsdale drew her figure to its extreme
height, and confronted him, erect and reproach-
ful. •

MBS. CHESTER.

285

" So you have come at last? " she said, with
scornful dignity. " Am I nothing to you, are
3'our sisters nothing, that you should leave us
on tliis day of all others — leave us for that
woman — that "

" Silence I " he commanded sternly, and there
was that in his voice which made her tremble.
" She is dead."

For a moment Mrs. Dimsdale was staggered,
and unconsciously relaxed the austerity of her
attitude.

" What cL . she die of ? " she asked weakly,
her indignation wavering, her liaughty pride and
will temporarily subdued by the shock.

He looked at her steadily for several minutes
before replying, holding her spellbound with
the intensity of his gaze, which seemed to pene-
trate her inmost being; laying bare all her world-
liness of motive, and the petty trivialities for
which her soul had striven.

She met his look bravely at first, with some-
thing of defiance in her compressed lips and cold
gray eyes, clinging tenaciously to a long cher-
ished belief in her own infallibility of judgment,
and nobility of purpose. " He should not put
lier out of countenance — her, his mother, who
had mastered many of the hard problems of
life before he was born."

A struggle as of silent combat passed between

, ijiJ:

I I"

: ir

286 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

them. He was scourging her in his thoughts,
reproving, condemning. She knew it, but she
Avould not yield, would not even admit the jus-
tice of his estimate.

But in spite of herself she was breaking down
beneath that concentrated sciutiny. The false
props were tumbling beneatli her. She began
to grow restless, her eyelids quivered and
drooped as her glance shifted uneasily.

Dimsdale drew a long breath as he said
slowly : '

"She died of a lingering disease, brought on,
I think, by woman's inhumanity to woman."

Mrs. Dimsdale stood motionless an instant,
bewildered by conflicting emotions. All the
plausible excuses she had been considering in
self-defence seemed to elude her troubled con-
sciousness. She looked at him helplessly, then
turned back into the disordered room, shiver-
ing as if with the cold.

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE

CLUB.

you

"Emily, what is the matter with
asked Mrs. Lane from her coiicli as she ""raised
her head with its chistering silver curls and
snowy cap and turned it inquiringly in the di-
rection of her daughter, who had just stepped to
the window for the fourth time in the space of
five minutes. " You sit down, and get up, and
stand still, and walk about, and fuss at one thing
and another, till I am nervous looking at you!
I wish you would sit down, my dear. What is
it makes you so fidgety ? "

The daughter laughed musically, as she re-
plied : " I believe I am more restless than
usual. But, don't you remember, mother ? It
is the twenty-second of December, and I am ex- '
pecting the postman."

"You expect the postman every day, and
what difference does it make that it's the twenty-
second day of December? Be more explicit,
Emily." ^

"I'll tell you, mother dear," returned Miss
Lane, m sh§ smoothed the pillows and sat down

287

288 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEfJR PEOPLE.

on the edge of tlie couch. " A little more tlian
ten years ago I graduated from college. Tliere
were six others who took honors at the same
time, and that night "

"What night, Emily? Don't talk so fast;
you bewilder me."

" The niglit of the twenty-first of June, ten
yeai-s and six months ago. We were all chat-
ting together for the last time under the dear
old college roof, when we made a solemn com-
pact that ten years and six months from that
date, tliose of us who were married would write
long confidential letters to the one or ones who
remained single, and tell our experiences fully
and freely, without reserve. We called our-
selves the Matrimonial Confidence Club."

"Dear me, how foolish ! And why did you
saytenyeajs and six months ?~.That's such a
long time."

" Because, by that time— the winter follow-
ing the tenth anniversary of our graduation-
cur fate, matrimonial or otherwise, would be
definitely, decided, don't you see, mother?*
Those of us who were alive would either be
married long enough to form unprejudiced
views of marriage, or settled down into hopeless
old maids. We would have found a fixed and '
permanent niche in life."

"Well, and what about it?" asked Mrs,

mE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 289

Lane. " What has that got to do with your
nclgeting?" "^

" W]iy, everything. I am the only old maid,
and I expect tlie letters, unless they have for-
gotten to write, and I don't think they haVe
V7e wrote down the conditions of the compact
in our journals so that there should be no mis-
take. Yes, I was engaged at that time, and the
others were heart free ; yet, strange to say, I
am the only old maid."

Her voice took on a dreamy tone, her face
dropped into tlie palm of lier hand and she fell
into a reverie from which she was presently
aroused by a muirnur of disapproval from her
mother.

" ^es, and it's all your own fault, Emily "
said the old lady, pettishly.

Mrs. Lane was in an unusually talkative mood.
When Emily had referred to herself as an " old
maid " she had touched her mother in a tender
spot, and now she diligently ransacked her
memory for tlie names of all the young gentle-
men who, during the past ten years, had paid
conspicuous attention to her daughter. The
girl listened, witli smiling lips and an occasional
humorous twinkle of the eyes, but made no
comments. She liad grown accustomed to hear-
ing her incipient love affairs revived in thi^ re-
proachful way.

:f:'

I'i'
'I*

^1
^1

■I

290 SAINTS, SINNEliS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

By and by as the evening waned, Mrs. Lane's
fund of reminiscences became exJiuusted and
she lay back among lier i^illows breathing
heavily. Emily brought her ji cup of gruel and
gently helped her up to bed. Then slie read
aloud till the invalid's eyes closed in slumber.

It was only seven o'clock, and the long winter
evening stretched before her, but she had no
sense of loneliness. The winter wind was so
cold and bleak > that a fire had been kindled in
the parlor grate, which threw its cheerful, ruddy
glow athwart the pretty room and lent an air
of warmth and comfort ; and, besides, there was
the prospect of the postman'.s arrival to brighten
her spirits.

^ She lighted the lamps, threw a lump of coal
upon the fire and, sinking into an easy chi^ir,
sat for a long time buried in thought. She
meant to enjoy herself this evening in her own
quiet v.'Hy, but her mother's complaining words
persistently haunted her, and, despite the sense
of ease and comfort which pervaded her physi-
cal being; she felt she was not quite satisfied,
and that it would take very little discourage-
ment to induce a mental disquietude bordering
6n discontent.

"The only old maid ! " slie repeated to herself.
"How little we thought on tliat menK)rable
night that it would fall to my lot to receive thq

TtlS MATRiMOmAl CONFIDENCE t'Ltrn. 291

letters I I wonder if they are happier than I ?

Well, I shall soon know."

Slie picked up a new magazine, with its uncut
pages, and reached for the ivory paper knife,
when tlie postman's call arrested her attention.
The book fell to the floor as slie hurried forward
She returned with six bulky letters. Miss
Lane s brown eyes flashed with unwonted ex-
cuement, and a bright color burned in lier
ciieeks, as she tore open one of the square en-
velopes and unfolded a closely-written letter of
ten pages.

cc TIT „ ^ ' Dec. 21, 189-.

My dear Emily- Wlioever Avould have
thought you would be the old maid of our sel'
I hope you don't object to the use of the much
derided ep.thet. I can assure you that you dWt
eed to be ashamed of it, for old maids are quL
t le rage nowadays, and ever so many c?ever

npn Z ' ^"^ ''"^ promise, I take up mv

pen to give you an exact account of the state of
mincl and circumstances in which I find rnvself
and also to give you my opinions of marriXfe

En^lv V^^^;? r^} "^* ^"^^ ^* pleasant read ngi
Emily; not that I am unhappy, oh dear no

aemoialized. This sounds alarmingly indefinite
bu I shall ry to explain as I go ori.^ '

Such a letter as this in answer to such laro-A
and important questions, it has nevei before

P:[\

■fWM

iii

292 SAINTS, sinneHs and queer people.

been my pleasure, or my misfortune, to be obliVed
to write ; and, consequently, you must make every
excuse for a rambling, incoherent style. I
know what a sensible, old-fashioned little mortal
you are, and no doubt I shall be held in restraint
to some extent by the fear of shocking you.
Jor your sake I should like to make some pre-
tence of clinging to my girlisli illusions, but
that would be violating one of the conditions of
our compact, wliich was that we should tell the
truth, the whoje truth, and nothing but the
truth. °

" By the way, what unsophisticated creat-
ures we must have been, to sujipose that after
ten years additional knowledge of the world it
would be easy or natural for us to unburden our
minds in that renowned, George Washington
tashion. If you were in the whirl of society as
1 am, you would know how difficult it is to be
truthful and sincere. I tell scores of lies every
day, and I cnn't help it. I have a headache
when I don t wish to see ceitain persons, I
smile on others whom I detest; I veil my real
motives, and affect sentiments which I do not
feel.

" In fact, I have ever so many plausible ex-
cuses and inventions which come in conven-
iently at certain times, but whicli, in plain
language, are nothing more or less than lies ; lies
of various sizes and colors,— little, big, wliite
green and black. But other women do the
same,— mine are as nothing compared to the
whoppers they tell.

"I think I must have learned the habit fiom
John. He has a peculiar theory in regard to

TtlE MATIilMdNIAl C6NFlhi:NCE CLUB. 29^

veiiiciity. He insists that a man cannot be a
success socially, politically, or any other way, if
he sticks to the unvarnished truth, and that it is
one's duty to adjiist one's statements to suit tlie
occasion and the persons with whom one has to
deal. He says tliere is no greater stumbling-
block in the way of an ambitious man, than a
conscientious regard for facts, and that the se-
cret of success in life is the knowledge of when,
and how much to lie.

" Perhaps I should not have mentioned John's
ideas on this subject, as it makes it rather
awkward for me to tell you that he is the most
popular man in town, a member of several clubs,
and a member of Parliament. Suppers are given
in his honor at election times, firewoiks shoot
the sky over our roof; the band plays, and
grand ladies present him with buttonhole bou-
quets. Yes, John is quite a man of distinction,
and public applause agrees with his constitution.

" He has grown stout, — not too stout, you
know, but comfortable and wholesome-looking.
His father, who died a year ago, left him quite a
little fortune, so we never want for anything. I
suppose you know we haven't any children ?

" I am not sorry ; for with so many social de-
mands on my time and attention, I don't see
how I could look after them, and I never did
believe in allowing servants to take full charge
of young children.

"I married for love, Emily, and I didn't care
anything about financial prospects. I was will-
ing to share a crust with John, if need be.

" I was so simple-heai'ted in those days, and
had such childish notions, — it amuses me now to

,il

I f|

264 sAtyT.% stmens Am Qirmit PSoPtg.

think of them I put John on a pedestal in,I
hed liv"^ "l^olutely perfect, ft wa? an i W

mi^f 1 "' myself, I wiw filled with hn-
w^ ^t^'ilkfTt "^"'^ "^-'■"■■worthiness ad

Zie^' Well ha? iM P^'™/"«' '» '"ve hin,.
jniuicj . well, that illusion lasted until we liid

^M?.Z"lf r'i'y'' yea.- then it fa d gmd

"I don't know just how or why the nlnn„»
begmi, but it was due to ' trifles ligl.t „s ai ■■ ^

heip;rti!«r:±j-^^^^^

that kind of love. ^ " dissipate

" After all, it is only moonshine nv tI,o .„.„

duct of an idealistie'^imagina "oi . I t ' I f
was happier when I ceased to love him ii thaJ

ness which came without effort,and rLquired so
much less from him in the w.^ of rSl'n'!

emtlmVt^^ demonstrative, and clung to our
custom of kissing e.ach other good-bye in tl,^
mornings when John went to his office and re

dfnne"^ TntT" ^^'"i" ,'"t '"""-''home To"
amner. «ut after a win e I observed flmf i.^

sometimes kissed me without seeilg to notice

^ili! J^AfiiiMONtAt CONFIDENCE! CLtrii. 2^5

wliat l.e was doing, and that often lie kissed nie a
second and tl.ird time without rememberin^r that
he had done so before ; that irritated me ; I bemin
to dishke h,8 dutiful little pecks, which were^ o
W-er indicative of affection, or of anything
more significant than force of habit. Now, he
never thinks of kissing me good-bye, unless he

nff Jl!^ ^""^ T^^y ^ ^^",^ ^'''•*^- ^V''^» l^e comes
into the house I know him by the pleasant thud
ot his number ten boot.

"The love we have for each other now is the
most matter-of-fact possible. He spends s
everiings where he pleases, sometimes at home,
but of tener elsewhere, and I entertain my friends
or accept an escort and go to a concert or play.'
But John IS real good to me ; you mustn't think
I am finding fault with him.
^ " I look athim now as he sits near me, absorbed
in a newspaper, and I can't help thinking what
a large, self-complacent, good-natured individual
ne is. He never grumbles about giving me
money, and allows me to do as I please,^ and
that IS a great recommendation for a husband.

Jiut, oh, Emily, there is an ache in my heart
xyhich I can never explain nor describe, as I
linger oyer this letter in silent self-communion
and try to reca 1 the sweet, unselfish ambitions
of my girlhood. There is a lack somewhere!
and though I am still vivacious as of yore, I am
not always happy. I am afraid I have grown
very worldly, and the constant rush of societv-
lite gives me a mental as well as physical unrest.
1 am quite thin and extremely nervous. I shall

lor 1 need a change.

.' ' ;

290 SAlN'I\s^ f^/NNERS AND QUEER PEOPLK

" I suppose you are as good as ever, you dear
little moui*«»% and go about among tlie poor peo-
ple, and teai ! a Sunday-school class. You were
always inclined to be i^ligious and benevolei*.

" I have lost my interest in these things, and
I tliink John is partly to blame. I can't coax
him to go to church, and I don't like going
alone, lie went a few times after we were mar-
ried, but fell asleep and snored so loudly ih,\i.
all the people were smiling. Poor, tired old
dear ! After ithat, I thougiit it would do him
more good to stay at home and have a nap.

" Emily, darling, married life is all right. Oh
course, a good deal depends on the persons
themselves ; and life, whether double or single,
is very much what we make it. But I must
say that you are to be envied in some respects.
You are so free and independent. You can
think and act for yourself. You can fulfd all
your good resolutions about being useful with-
out having stumbling-blocks laid in your way
by those you love, and Avhose right it is to dic-
tate your course of conduct.

" 13ut my letter is becoming philosophical and
tiresome. In conclusion, I congratulate you,
dear, on being the old maid of our graduation
circle. ' What a host of possibilities lie before
you!

" As for mo, I have no future w- . 'r«,h speak rif^
about. Very few married! >vv»nicn have any
future. I shall simply go on in this feverish,
restless w^ay, snatching my pleasures from every
available source, till some day I drop from sheer
exhaustion.

" Good-bye, Emily. I hope I have been per-

tllE MATHIMONIAL CONFIDEACE ^LUB. 297

fectly trutliful this once; T luive tried to be.
Trusting that your mother is iti Ix'tter liealth
since I hist hesird of her, and tliat I may some
tiuK; have the pleasure of seeing vou in my own
home, 1 am now and ever,

"Lovingly yours,

"Lulu Kay (iibson."

Miss Lane's eyes were full of tears as she re-
folded tiiis letter and returned it to its envelope.
How well she reuKMiibered the writer as a girl,
—the s(mtimental, tender-liearted Lulu Ray ;
generous, unselfish, and ambiti^ms ; full of san-
guine purposes and lofty ideals !

From the next envelope fell a number of
closely written jiages of thin, foreiy n note-paper.
Miss Lane smiled as she remember, -d the special
gift which this correspondent possessed, of mak-
ing her letters as vivid and inter(3sting as a
novelette,— and of narrating in m.iny charm-
ingly constructed sentences what n'ight easily
be told in half the space, though pe haps with
a loss of the effect produced by minuL i imagery
upon an active imagination.

" Yes, undoubtedly, Dolly Redmon 1 would
have her say and it would not be brie by any
means." Miss Lane settled herself m. .re com-
fortably, put an extra cushion at her back, and
rested both feet upon the hassock, as she gave
herself up to the enjoyment of the lettei which
was headed like the title page of a mam script.

•■HI]

2 I ;:k- J

■■rt

298 SAINTS, 81NN£:rB AND Qt7Et:li PmPL^.

"dolly's

CONFESSION.

going to make

« Yes, Emily, I am going to make a clean
breast of it this time if I should never utter
another truthful syllable. I am starting this
several days before the memorable twenty-first
so that I shall have time to add postscripts as
they occur to me, and make this letter the most
complete exposition of a woman's views upon
matrimony that was ever written. There is in-
finite relief in speaking one's whole mind upon a
subject, and Vv>e been bottled up so long, think-
mg all sorts of things to myself which, as a dis-
creet matron, I would not think of confiding to
any one, that a confession appeals to me in a
very favorable light, as an outlet to my morbid
state of mmd and possibly, in some sense, a tem-
porary alleviation.

"In the regular correspondence which has
passed between us since the dear old college
days, I have been careful to guard from your
observation any secret dissatisfaction that might
be gnawing at my heart ; deeming it a woman's
duty to make the best of circumstances, and
show a cheerful smile to our adversary, the
w^orld But now you shall see me exactly as I
am. I shall delight in revealing my own faults
as well as the faults of others. Th'is shall be a
veritable war-path of confession. I shall hew
down every barrier of conventionality, every
obstacle presented by that popular fallacy called
womanly reserve in regard to con jugal infelic-
ity— jes, everything must 'fall beneath the
Bword of Truth wielded by the hand of a tor-
tured woman.
"That sounds ominous, doesn't it? Don't

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 299

think that I tun the New Woman in a tan-
trum. T can't abide that latest evohition of fem-
ininity ; I am sure she is ugly and wears boots
and gloves too large for her, and talks Greek
Avhen her husband wants to doze comfortably
behind his newspaper, and condemns said hus-
band in the most merciless manner for all the
vices peculiar to his sex.

" I have no patience with that sort of
monumental paragon, who is represented as
looking down from a lofty height of self-
complacent purity, upon the great mass of
weak frailty called man ; for whom she has
only a curling lip, and a scornful Avord, and a
determination rigid as iron, to have nothing to
do with him, in this world or the next. Let
her lay aside her books, and her magnifying
glasses, and go to Sunday-school like any sim-
ple-hearted little girl and learn how to be truly
■womanly and merciful.

" But 1 am not a preacher, and it doesn't be-
come me to lay down the law. I am only a
woman of the old-fashioned kind, with a heart
and the very natural desire to love and be loved ;
but I am all astray ; everything seems to have
gone wrong, I hardly know why.

"The condition of mind in which I find
myself at this time is utterly bewildering.
Bear with me, dear, while in my rambling
fashion I try to explain the mystery, for my
own relief and surer self-knowledge', and pos-
sibly for your benefit.

" Some time ago you expressed the hope that
the years that have intervened since our school
intimacy, had been years of happiness for me,

-4'

-m

300 SATNrs, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.
and that I had realized my highest hnr,po t

only eiffhteen-my character was noWormi:;!

cnaracter. I did not know myself hoAv rnnU
I assume to know whif nl^n^ur ' ^low could

tiSinTi! M ""5 "'••*' «» important reli,.
tionsmp It IS— the closest, tenderest and m,.«t

niamty. But hoiv^ rashly people enter into

m;;vT&rtte7hS'rB"rS;l-t'

and my wedding dress of the latest cut «nd
finish, and my pleasure, in the thought of tal

child, Uiessw'e'fZfrj^zX I;:,:

wisdom teeth and was f™w»%^ "",'■ l'^""
what she was dofng-^ ^'^■'^^'' "'^ '''""'^"'g

a senseless disp ay ! The young waiiors not
knowmg what is before them RveeJnZU?
the battle-field in a triumphaTp^oLS t^^^^^

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 301

joyous strain of the wedding march, and thev
don t discover that tliere's death in the air till
they are mortally wounded.

" If ever a mrl should shrink from empty
show and trivorous babble, and enter into si-
lence and sohtude, if ever she should retire for
a space for self-examination and prayer and
deep heart-searching, surely, it is on this most
sacred occasion.

T " ^\l T""-? ^""'"'^ through it again-not that
1 tvouldao It again, for I certainly wouldn't—
1 mean if I were going through it the first time,
knowing all that I do now, the event would be
celebrated with fitting solemnities. It would
partake^more of the nature of a religious cov-
enant, the burial of self, like the takfng of the
black veil in a convent.

" Perhaps if marriage began in that way,
some good might come of it. It is the un-
reasonably sanguine anticipation of a blissful
existence which never comes, that dulls one's
''^Ssible moderate happiness as is

" But I must stop generalizing and come back
to my own particular case which, when the
worst IS said, is not so bad as it might be

I liked Tom immensely. He came to see
me rigged out m his best clothes and manners,
and made himself extremely agreeable, as men
do wJien they are trying to win the girl of
their fancy. My mother objected strongly to
our marriage, urging that I was, ' too yoiing,'
and, of course, that liastened the match!

, Ihere is nothing like active op])osition to
bring about an undesirable event. It is a pity

i;l

her best to catch Un'fr *"" ""'' '""ing
incentive to the a lia, ["" ^if'f r*? another
valry was exciting; Csvmni^H. ''"^-La-d ri-
angmented, and J mfenff '^ -I ''"" ?^<"" '^^
tions for love antrmv •^ ^f*'""^'' <»no.
winning him fil.an/to^SV/ tl"""?"^ '"
happiness ,v]rich is su,>pS to Sln'^ ^'°'''- ''^
of elective afBnities »<> wllow a union

m;po"f^oY"rfoSl^ ''? ^ ''''gf" foreaIi.e
time to a man who t hi ^ ''''*'' '"^'' fof all
and free froraVanvnA?^''-^"''^"" his way
a wife's pea™, wa7not cnn ™?^Thieh destroy
We had not one iiUertr.'F'"'*' " ^".^ ^'^^■
resses wearied me' hk if """"non. His ca-
straint. His oninionf fT^""" " """scions re-
insistent, aggreK mnn^?" "^^P-^^^ed •« the
roused iiJy af[:|onfs,r "'''" ^"^""^ '» W™.

my girIh^tand %!Jr^™her' '^f ^^ "^
ness when I rememberw? H i ^ "'"'" '^leli-

fatherand motl erbrS'",, ^'".^ ^^"J' «'
a night I sobbed in vSff?"'' *'^'<"^- Many
to & cheXtS 0^.1 *•'• ^"' I t"«d
strange, new resnonsiWIit ''P'*'"-''*'^ *« 'he

tried to accustoi/ZS to tt f ^ ''"^'^'«"'
services required hv n „. , ® """y «'fe y
more and Tore paii^f^i,,"? ''''°''' ^"""^ g^ew

jng indifferen^e^o him^ffirm"e- ^^^l^"^-
terror. Whither w„ J T it!- "o® ""n vague

fulfilling mJfolTmrmLtSXsf "^ ^''^ '

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUli. 303

" Oh Emily, I can never tell you all that I
suffered in tlie fi,;st few years. "l felt mvself
to be a false sinful girl, because I could not
give my husband the love that should have
been his, because I could stand aside and criti-
cise him as impartially as if he were not a part
ot myselt I used to scourge myself with the
stinging lash of self-reproach, But all to no
Jiurpose ; love will not be forced-it is beyond
the control of the will. The most I could do
was to give him the semblance of wifely devo-
tion, to show a kindly regard for his comfort.
an(l a cheerful submission to his Avishes

I was wretched in those days. I seemed to
be thrown back upon myself, dependent upon
the inner resources of my nature for happiness.

When my baby girl came to me, one fair
May morning, I welcomed her into my solitary
heart as an aiigel sent from Heaven to lead
Zth To ^on<>tony of my life, into a

"Alter that, existence was not only endur-
able, but agreeable. I ceased lashing myself
for conaitions that could not be helped, and
which were not due to any wilful fault on
my part, and resolved to extract as much
pleasure out of the world as possible I
emerged from rny shell and expand ^d, as it
were. My social wings sprouted little by little,
till^i soon became a society butterfly.

" I flirted, too, in a decorous manneVallowable
in select circles, or, to bo more strictly correct
the gentlemen Avere conspicuously attentive
and I permitted their attentions. ' That Avas
very unwise,' you will say. I agree with you,

W.:^:'

304 SAINTS, SINNEUS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

but it is very bard not to avail one's self of
the compensations offered bv circumstances

f i^n """"i « ^^ ^^""^ ^ enjoyed these gallant atten-
tions and fla tery ; they amused me for the time
and brought to light many masculine weak-
nesses that were mtcrcsting from a psych oJom-
cal point ot view. But at test they were onfv
a cheap worthless imitation of the genuine
luxury which my heart craved all these years
and craved in vain. ^ '

"That did not last long ; it was one of my
restless eyolhtions, another way of turning
round and rouml in my cage, and I weariecl
ot it. Mj dormant self-respect gradually
awakened and I realized that I was acting

for my^'fdl -^ '"' ' """^-^ *^^ ^'"^^'^^^ ^^^««^

1 ""^ ^m living now on a higher plain, having
learned the great lesson that duty to my.^elf
and those around me is an obligation which
must be fulfilled at whatever cost to my natural
self-indulgence, and that I can only ^e truly
iiappy when living in accordance with the best
approved standards of what is right, proper
and womanly, ^ ' ^'""l'*^''

"I have learned also to make the best of ad-
verse circuinstances, and my eyes are open to
many blessings which have dwelt with me for
many years unperceived. I find it easier to
adapt myself to Tom's limitations and pecu-

" Why should I inwardly rage because he
persists in talking about different breeds of
horseflesh at a time when I am revellino- in
some loft^ thought extracted from BrowniTig's

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 305

poems? Can he be other than himself? Ami
not as msufflcient to him as he to me ? If I pre
sume to pity myself as ' poor Dolly ' ouo-llt I
T^n? ''' ^"^ sy^npathize with him as ^poor

''He irritates me in a hundred little ways
Irom the use of musk and hair-oil, to the
smoking ot vile cigars when I've a sick headache
and singing comic songs out of tune. We
wound each other constantly, and yet, strange
to say, I doubt if we coukl'be happy apaft
After marriage, whether it works for good or
HI, there IS no such thing as freedom. —Is^ever
again, under any condition s.-It generates a
bond which may not be one of tenderness, but

il^^ IS just as inevitably binding.
Marriage is a gigantic machine which, when
set in motion, bears everything before it ; with

«ll^'r"'i^^'^ "^"^^^"^ of irons,itrushes
on and on, breaking barriers, crashing ao-ainst
sensibilities, till finally it re'aches su1,,Sn
Where there is spiritual antagonism, there is
generally as a counteracting element a subtle
attraction, vyhich for want of a better name, I
may call animal magnetism.

nflT^'^T?'"''®-''^*^^ ^P® sometimes nullifies the
other This is not the complete marriage, it
IS a legalized form of slavery, yet such is its
noSnvi^T f.r.?*^ble organizations, that I am
positive that If the prison doors were opened
wide to-morrow, and hundreds of tortured men

vrVprr"" ''^^'^ 1^^^^'^^^ ^f tbe uncongenial
yoke and commanded to go free, they woSld, in
nine cases out of ten, remain where they Ire^
preferring the evil that they know, to joys and

806 SAINTS, SINNEIiS AM) qUEER PEOriE.

ills they know not; for their condition has
engendered a pitiable helplessness
h«"i«Y {;"«^^»il. is considered very handsome;
he IS tall and fair, ladies admire 'his physimie
and he knows lt-^vhat man does not\ lie s
a noted sport and atlilete and has won enouoh
medals to stock a '-owelry store. He has'^a

h.s cib hty m this respect, lii^ has t le },abit

mtelhgently as much as to say, 'trust me to
make a good speculation.' lie is a very

Sfrfl^lnf"^''' Tom, but ai; men are that^
lie is full of money-making schemes.

My reading for this month is Youatt, 'On
the Horse,' ancT an article which treats of Wall
street transactions. I am determined that mv
husband and I shall have at least one or two
subjects ot mutual interest on which to converse
Jl^mily why don't you marry ? It is riskv
of course, but single life is lonely. Don't S
to people who say ' never marry ' <

" If you should ever know What it is to love
you cannot refuse to marry the obiect of thnt
ove w thout beinguntrue t^o your wCanhood
and believe me, my dear friend, the possibihty
of such^happmess as is offered by a perfect union
of congenial souls, is not to be ightly sacrificed
to any question of duty or expedieV My into
tion-would that I could say my exper¥nce -
tells me that such love is a divine iLtiEphed

fetetofr^

friend ""win'f^r'i^ '^?f V'''^^ ^^'^^ ^^^ ^^"stant
iriend. What I should have done all these

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 307

years Without your bright letters, I am sure
1 (Ion t know. May they never cease, is the

Z'fo « ? y«""?eft member of the Matrimc
nial Conhdence Club.

" Dolly Redmond.

. e\f' ^r -F^"^ ^^^^^^ reminds me of the month
like a^mb ""'''""' '"^ "^'' "" ^^^^ '''''^ ^""'^ ^"*

The third letter was from a girl who had
cherished advanced ideas on the subjects of
woman's rights and education, and had also
given evidence of literary proclivities.

Miss Lane opened it with a little sigh of
relief, feeling sure that it would afford a deeper
insight into married life from an intellectual
point of view than any of the others. Olive
had married well in the world's opinion. Her
husband was rich and cultured and noted for
his general uprightness of character.

G-

-, Dec. 21st.

My Dear EMiLY-Oan it be possible that
we SIX giddy girls hav . taken to ourselves a
Husband and you, the wisest and noblest of us
deserY^- ? ^^^^^^^^^g your sweetness on the

"However did it happen? I thought at one
time that it was quite decided you were
to be Mrs. Parker, and rumors of other matri-
monial prospects in store for you have reached
me at long intervals during the years that we

!.^

I .-,;

808 SAINTS, simms and Qumn pkoplh

business aS St' kJ^^ ^« 4^'^^'^^^^ ^^'^^Ji

,, "f'^c^u or our aclrvible vnnnm c-f ixr
don't pretend in nlimK /0"ng<^st. VVe

heights': sucTasVaUemS r^.r*'""^'
romantic days. '"■"■empted m our young,

hasn't a parLTof ^ovetoustls'L^d hf ". T**
are inexpensive. He doesn't r-Lf *'!''^'
and always fiTovr«Tf,Tii„; ? ® *°'" societv

THE MATH JMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLVli. 300

he praised my stories most liivishlv, ho ropli- s
that, 'a fellow Avill endure aiiN tliinfr froiu ^
pretty girl, especially if he is in 'love with her,
but after lie marries her the case is entirely
u liferent.' *^

"I don't know tliat I am justified in savin"-
that man is an illogical being, l)ut certainly
his nature is extremely variable, and it is im-
possible to Predict Avith any degree of cer-
tainty what his opinions will be at any stated
period upon Jiny specified subject, lie is elus-
ive and contradictory, and I am also of the
opinion that, even m the best of men, the
animal nature predominates over the soulful
aspirations.

" As I understand men, after nearly eitrht
years matrimonial experience with a first-class
specimen, they are three parts physical and one
part spiritual. ]V[y husband is not an epicure
nor a sensualist— Heaven forbid! But I am
positive that he prefers a good dinner to a ffood
sermon, and the frivolous talk of a gracious
and pretty woman, to a learned scientific dis-
course with any male professor. He can't help
It, poor Charley ! It's the way he is made.

" I have dropped ?ny music ;'l never get time
to practice, and I am ashamed to confess that
I very seldom read anything— even a news-
paper. Charley doesn't like to see me with a
book in my hand. ^ He says my one great fault
IS that lam inclined to be a book-worm and
inform my mind on subjects that women have
no business to bother their heads about. He
makes jokes about my going on a lecturing tour,
bometiraes I am led to exclaim with Carlyle :

ill

810 SAms, «.V.VW»S A.fO UUEEU ,'t:oPLe.

'Why do womon iiiarrv!' Hrwi i.«

l«.ss it l« that, like tl,o gi<at \V t ..Kh''!?',,""-

wieirgooU. -Chis IS very ( scoiinjxnno- ttJ-
determined that tlio o-iHcs n« / ^ ^' ^^^ ^^

Lawyer-like he flmk „i '''ffrent views,

opposite ski of ,"t,J tlor'r'h '"'^f "'«
been in favor of the ?. gfer e,l„eatiorfnr ™''''

e< ..cation that 4ill flt it? pleS oTn^*"
andYZ'r;eairtl!S''?f '''"l^ ^™>' «''-''.

acrp Hi^,,f f!:i 1 ."' -'^"^"y* I shall not encour-

iin-

*rnE MATimtoxrAL coynuKycE cluu. m

' nohlo mwl 7'*^ ""'^l?^" "?•>' ^•^^«t^<^"ti(ms upon tho
niotl.orhood, tl.oro is no lK,ttor vocation Avhon

mat only a small proixn-t on of m irri'uro^
are as successful as thVy ouo-ht to l^^'''^''''^''^^'

a lottPrr'iM i^'-'"'Y ^'■''^^ i'l any case it is

as our nwi '^ ''' -^'"^ ^^^^"" 1^^^«*^» ^«^" 'til time
as our life companion. A woman is compelled

m the niajority of instances, to lay asX her

own distinctive individuality and adopt the

m snort, to merge her identity into Iiis and

conform to his standards of what is ri"ht or

'"''^aP' ^'^P^'^lient or desirable. ^ ^"^

J\mv, I hold that no woman can bo as h- n-

or useful as when she is entirely herself foFlmv

nfl r "^""^ ^^"^^-^^^^^^ eonviciions, n^^^lbit on "
and purposes; and nothing fosters this ind^'

IfngteTe:^' ''^"^'^^ '^^^ -nduct'o'teh t

"I would not have her selfish or eo-otis
tical ; ma world like this there are so manJ

mtl^^^^^^^^^^^ ^"^ timelnd ym^

patliy that there is no excuse for idleness or
apathy, or a disposition to be selfishly «^^^^
in our own petty interests. Whvf mv W

ciiikiren, there are gray days n niv life Avhpn
with envious eyes, tTiroiigh 'the hazeVf Vown '

pSsef '' '"''^ " ^'""P-^^ "^ '^' ^^^1 ^"^^^«

"How can any maiden of common sense

and chamcter be oblivious to her ackanta'esf

The whole world lies before her with its infinite

312 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEim PEOPlK

possibilities— the world of Mrf f.; ^ i •
and benevolence- even In vn ' ^"endsliip,

the ?s!;: izl ?/iittrc-^^:

jms are held out to l,er. Ilun.lreds of cWI

children. I Ywnklh f is'7 fSv ""t .°"'"
W„ ,„a„y instances wh4 S^to ttVr

with household mattirs'- ioJ'ln^T^' ^"^y
fairlv ivoll off rhnrW ;i *'^'^S'' ^« are

ut.nce i^iub. 1 have done so free] v- wuu r«
lovmo- wish for f iio Ko • ^' *^V J ' ^^ "" many a

THE MAmhtoniAL conMdence club, aig

you are in very comfortable circumstances fi-
nancially, and that, if reverses come, you are
fully equipped for a self-supporting, seif-respect-
mg career. With warmest love,
" Yours very sincerely,

"Olive Maxwell Creighton.

nr,!i ?*iF' 1 } ^^"^^ /?^®^ glancing over my letter,
and I find to my dismay that it sounds very un-
complimentarv to Charley. He really is a good
husband, Emily and it has not been my inten-
tion to find fault with him personally. "^I have
been talking in a general way, you will under-
stand,--drawing my inferences rather more
from observation than from experience. You
must not thiiik for a moment that I am dissat-
isfied wi h Charley, or that I haven't all the re-
spect and love a wife ought to feel for her hus-
oand. btill, my advice to girls is ; don't marry
«^^y man unless you feel sure that you can't
possibly live without him. O.M. C."

Miss Lane sighed and looked skeptical. She
had always considered marriage a serious ques-
tion, but she w^as not prepared for the compli-
cated situations revealed in these letters. Pen-
sively she opened another.

M-

^ - — Dec. 19th, 189—.

My Uear Emily— I went the way of the
teminme wor d three years ago, 'and em'phasized
my individuality by marriage. I was weary of
the humiliations and inconveniences which
beset the pathway of a maiden of uncertain
age, which means, I suppose, that after a e-irl

314 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QTIEER PEOPLE

has reached thirty, she is never sure how old
she IS, and her memory slips backward.

it wasn t pleasant to be a wall-flower at balk

and sit patiently through a whole season of sodal

ff ^i^^ties, nor to hear * buds ' refer to me as n

faded back number of Venus.' No woman is

so free from vanity that she can be resTgned to

oTLlta^r '' '''^y '^ lessen^^W ctS

for' J'^hn^d 'f^f^'.I ^I^-^^ becoming alarmed,
lor 1 Had no desire to end my davs Avifh
my step-mother, who had a Lit deal of

tr trlitf ^""f ^ f matSnllfmaf
ters , and though my dear father, who has been
ail ng for some time, is still alive Lnd stiwcS
under the marital yoke, she has select?! S
second husband, ancf onty awaits the comL
tional opportunity to enforce her claim Yon
can imagme with what disfavor she would n.
gard my prolonged maidenhood. "

When Mr. Thompson asked me to marrv
him I promptly agreed to do so, and made [he
arrangements for the wedding as qSlv as
c^h^^^^^^^^^^^ '^^ --^^-'' ^-e Ti^i t^:

"He was an elderly widower, who hful

grave, and I, was an elder y spinster wlin
strange to say, l,ad never tastefl romlni lU
proposed in a practical, dignified man^^r ex
plaining that he needed a^wife to Se hS

hZ?^'"'''^""' """^ 'Jol'verhim from the in!
iquities of man's companionship.

THE MATUUIONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 315

" I acce])te(l him in a practical, dignified
manner, explaining that I needed a husband to
make a home for me and deliver me from the
tyranny and subjection of woman. Upon this
understandmg Ave married, and I thudi the re-
sult compares favorably with the results Avhich
tollow many a so-called love match. Of course
1 don t pretend to say that it affords the com-
plete happmess which is supposed to be the
outcome of wedded life, but it is a verv ffood
' second best.' ' ^

" Mr. Thompson is a gentleman who will
always make his way in the world and conduct
himself properly. He is good-looking, tall, and
ot a robust build, and has marked abilitv. He
IS distinguishing himself in politics, and receives
a salary of four thousand dollars a year His
picture is in the portrait folio of Canada's great
men. ®

"I tliink that not the least of the great
things he has done was to marry me. I don't
claim to be a model, but I know that I am an
improvement on the old-fashioned stepmother
I am bringing up his two children as conscieni
tiouslv and, yes, as lovingly us their own mother
would have done.

" Mr. Thompson is twenty years older than I.
He calls me 'dear child.' He laughs at the
mistakes of my inexperience, reproves me play-
fully when reproof is necessary, and relieves
me of all responsibility of choice and judgment.
. He IS a fatherly husband and takes care of
me ma tender, thoughtful fashion. Sometimes I
leel like asserting my will-power, maturity, and
independence, for it is only in his idea of me

316 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

that I am young and ignorant. But it is the
role he prefers, so why not let him phiy it?
Ihen, too, it is not improbable that if I de-
manded to be treated as an equal, he would re-
Imquish his jocosely patient attitude, and be-
come dictatorial. Instead of prefacing his

you AVI 1 do so, and so, if agreeable,' he would
samp his feet and thunderf ' Mrs. Thompson

1 Jv^» ^'^ ^r ^''^^^^.^r ' ^« y«" l^ear what
f-^ , ^^>^11 possibilities considered, I am

stiin s '''' '"^''''* '"^ paternal leading-

.J uA^'""^ V*^^^^'^ ^^^^^^ ^'^ f-^11 in love. I
thought it must be a delightful experience. Girls
who had succumbed to tLe popular malady said
that they couldn't understand how they lived
before it happened. I had it for half a day
once, or thought I had. I felt as poets do
when they are inspired. The workl was a
vision of beauty, and life was a passionate ioy
There was a hectic flush on my cheeks and
my eps were twice their natural size. It was an
mtoxicatmg emotion, but I was afraid it would
wear on my health. Next day I was laid low
with bram fever. When J recovered, the object
ot my ardent admiration had left town after
engaging himself to another girl. Upon reflec-
tion I concluded that I had mistaken the pre-
monitory symptoms of fever for the tender
passion. But that came as near to a victory for
Cupid as anything that ever happened in my
experience. ^ ^

"Perhaps you expect me to give you some
^vice that will guide you into a straight path

THE MA TRIMONIA L CONFIDENCE CL UB. 317

of m.itriniony. But that is beyond me. Un-
cloubtedly marriage is a great problem, and
a<lmits ot more tlian one solution, thou<di no
number of solutions are adequate to cover its
exiirenoif'S-

' Love should be the prime mover and motive
power m such a union, yet I coukl give you
many instances of love-marriages Avhich have
resulted unhji])pily, and a few exceptional cases
ot marriage basetl upon friendship or mutual
adaptability, which have turned out favorably
Lmerson says that ' there is a modicum of
true marriage in the most ill-assorted union,'
and 1 would add that in marriages which are
apparently the most perfect, tJicre are some
elements of discord. While human nature
retains its inherent imperfections, and Love
goes about with one blind eye and a rose-colored
eyeglass over the other, it is useless to expect
any ideal condition of wedded life. Blessed is
she who marries expecting nothing, for she will
not be disappointed.

"Have I said that I am a contented woman
and do not envy those of my friends who are
single ? If I haven't, I say it now with a smile
ot self-congratulation Nind a dutiful glance at
Mr. Ihompson's shadow, which is thrown on
the wall near me from the opposite room.

"The good man hnnself, large as lifi and
more natural than nature, is sitting in his study
with chair tilted against tlie wall and his feet
on the desk, reading AYilfred Laurier's last
speech on the Manitoba school question I
have just interrupted him to ask his opinion of
luarriage. ^

n*'

318 SA/NTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

"l^'^'^'}y^^}G^r,'lsiud--hG likes this playful
method of alluding to his a-e-*give me a short
definition of marriage.'

" lie looked at me in a ])iizzled way, took ofl
his glasses, rubbed them, i)ut them on again,
then coughed to give himself time

" ' Hem ! Humph ! Hem ! Is it a little essay
you are Avriting, (Tear child ^ I hope you are
not thinking of having it printed ? Publicity
for women is very objectionable, you know.'

I set his, fears at rest on th*is point, and,
finally, after a long struggle with the question
he looked at me and smiled with an air of pro'
tound insight into the mysteries of Hymen
and i held my breath, waiting for the brilliant
Idea which he had evolved.

" ' Dear child ! How simple you are ! ' he said.
Marriage has only one meaning. It is the
union of man and Avoman as husband and wife '
"I gasped and fled from his presence I
might have got that out of the dictionary,
liut 1 was not to be intimidated in my pursuit
of a definition. I consulted my housekeeper,
Mrs. Burke. '■ '

" ; Marriage,' she said calmly, ' is a means of
discmline.'

"I bfelieve she is right, and we should wel-
come discipline, because it is good for us •
therefore I have reason to be thankful that I
am married, and venture to express the hope
that you will become a candidate for discipline
" Your loving friend,

" Kathleen Thompson.

" P. S. Seriously, dear Emily, J hope you

Hint

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB.

319

will marry. Single life is uncomfortable and

wlT.' "9^^ t "^^^r^y a widower. But stop!
What am I saymg; shadow of Mr. Thompson
forgive me! ferry a widower by all means'

husband. But impress upon him from the
beginning he fact that you' are not ael^ld,and
hold to it bravely in sjnte of his insinua ions
to the contrary. Men like to make dolls and
playthings of women, it enhances their sense
ot importance and superiority. They foro-et
handlin'Jr '"'''''" '''^"'''' '^""^ suffer in th'^eir

K "¥' ^\ T^^^'- Thompson is an estimable hus-
band, and I would not change places with any
woman of my acquaintance. K. T."

The next letter was short and characteristic
of the writer, who had been a sweet, practical
girl, with a talent for housekeeping.

«Tir T^ " ^®°- 20, 189-.

My Dear EMiLY--What a joke that you of
all others should be the singular person, whom
we discourteously term ' the old maid ! ' You
were almost married ten years ago. Your at-
tractions were superior to ours and your lovers
were legion. At the time we made our com-
pact, I mentally decided that I would be the one
to receive the confessions of the Confidence
ivlub, tor 1 had no matrimonial project in view
and was never a favorite with gentlemen.
However, it was fated to be otherwise, and I
pre^mne that we are all in t]i© hands of a wisg

320 SAINTS, sinni:rs and queer people.

Providence, who orders everything for our
good.

" Though you have missed certain phases of
happiness, you have also escaped many cares,
and you have resources of pleasure which are
not possible to your married friends, who are
necessarily restricted in point of time and oiv
portunity. I have much to say to you, yet I
must be brief, for I am writing under diificul-
ties. My servant has left without warning and
I have been trying to do the work, with three
babies pulling at my skirts and making the air
hideous with their cries.

"It is evening and they are now asleep;
dear Frank is rocking the baby's cradle with
his foot as he reads his newspaper. I am too
tired to write a long letter, though my heart
^oes out to you with a wealth of londnff, lov-
mg thoughts.

" Now, what shall I say to you about my mar-
ried life ? How express to you in a few words
my exact condition of needy 'happiness, or happy
adversity ? We are poor, we have none of the
luxuries of life and sometimes lack for the nec-
essaries, yet I doubt if you could find a more
contented family.

" My little world is my home. I live in it
and for it. I ceased to expect anything for
myself, but for my children I am very ambi-
tious. I am carefully striving to develop
all that is best in them, with a view to their
future success and happiness. Sometimes I am
envious of my rich neighbors, for the worldly
nature dies hard in me ; but, after all, wealth
brings Its own troubles and temptations, and

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 321

surely I have things which make life worth
living.

" This morning I was dismayed on discover-
ing that I cannot afford myself a new bonnet,
and that my old black silk dress must be re-
modelled for the fourth time, and made to do
duty as a Sunday gown.

" Frank smilecl rather tearfully when I spoke
ot my scanty wardrobe and said: * It's too
bad ; I wish I couid dress you in silk velvet and
diamonds. But what's the odds, sweet wife
as long as we are happy? You are always
beautiful in my eyes, no matter what you wear.'
He makes such speeches very prettily even
yet, and his conjugal manners are ideally per-
tect. 1 cannot remember that he has ever
been rude to me ; and though we do not always
agree, we disagree amicably, and have never
had our < first quarrel.'

"I don't go out much, and have little time for
books, but some times Frank reads tome while
1 am at work I am afraid I am rather old-
tashioned and behind the times, and I am always
hoping for a chance to catch up, but somehow
It never comes. I am looking forward to the
time when my children will be grown up and
i shall enter upon an old age of profltable
leisure, with opportunity to improve myself in
many ways which are at present impossible.'

I really think that olci age is the sweetest
period of a woman's life, a heaven of rest from
cares ot her earlier years. As a younff wife
she sows the future for herself and children
As a mother with gray hair and feeble step,
Bhe reaps the harvest ; and her declining years

'I'

822 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

are crowned with a halo of hope's fulfill-
mejit.

" I am very fond of my Iiusoand, and would
not be sinf^le again if I could. Though we do
not figure in society, there are red-letter chiys
in our ordinarily quiet existence ; for instance,
when I entertain a few of our friends, and'
bring out the best china, which once belonged
to my grandmother, or when we are pre])aring
for Christmas, or planning some little surprise
for the childrbn, on their birthdays.

"When we go out on shop])ing excursions
of an evening, my hand resting lovingly on
Frank's arm and his dear eyes smiling down
into mine, I forget that I am not as well
dressed as many of the women we meet,
and that my purse is not as heavy as theirs.
Love and peace in the heart and "liome atone
for the hardships of grinding economv, and
sweeten adversity.

" The letters you Avill receive from the other
members of our club will be very different
from mine. They will reveal another side of
life — the glimmer of wealth and social achieve^
ment.

" Mrs. Gibson is one of society's lights, and
has developed into a beautiful, brilliant Avoman.
She sent me her picture last Christmas ; it is
an artistic creation, which makes me feel dowdy
and insignificant by comparison.

" Mrs. Eedmond, our lively ' Dolly,' is fashion-
able and lovely, and seems "^to enjoy life on a
large and magnificent scale. I can't imagine
Avhat she ever saw in that heavy-footed, stupid
young Tom Redmond, All he thi.iks about

THE MATiintoxiAL coNFtw^yat: ctun. nL>a

tipjKinmtly is money making, and Frank is of
tho ()[)inion that some of liis scliemes are ratiier
' shady.'

" As for me— I am only a i)lod(linff, liome-
lovmLr httlo nobody, happy with my liusband
and tho chihlren and asking nothino- of the
great noisy worhl, except that it wiiriejive me
alone in ])eace.

'; ^]M is stirring, so I must cease scribbling,
i^rankiuis been dozing over his paijcr, but is
now sufficiently awa1:e to make a remark. It •
IS a rather foolish one, and grammatically a
little mixed, but I repeat it for what it is worth.
ile says : ' Kyery single man and woman be-
tween the ages of twenty and sixty should
think seriously of getting married, and if they
don t. It s because they don't knoAV what's xjood
tor them.' °

" I]elieye me, dear Emily, with loving mem-
ories ot the past, and best wishes for your
present and future happiness, \om devoted
Iriend,

"Mary Dawks Benson."

Miss Lane sat perfectly still for a long time
with the letters in her lap. IJer pale, sweet
face had an exalted expression of sympathy. In
her eyes were blended joy and sorrow,— regret
for the sadness of others, and deep heart-satis-
faction in the thought of tho one really happy
home to which she had been introduced. She
was not without a sense of humor, and some of
tho inconsistencies in her friends' letters were
amusing to lier—deliciously amusinff.

324 .S.4/iVr.s', SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

But she felt sure that each one liad anxiously
endeavored to be truthful in presenting her case,
and, as she turned their words over in her mind,
and contrasted her own privileges with theirs,
she felt she had a right to the logical conclusion
that, on the whole, slie was happier than they,
and she reproached herself for the discontent
which had sometimes threatened to disturb her
peace.

The lire had died down till it was only a
glowing mass of coals, throwing out its last
remnnnt of warmth and brightness. The
winter winds howled and shrieked at the win-
dows with many an uncanny suggestic:;. A
silvery-voiced clock struck the hour of eleven.
There was still another letter to be read,
before the Confidence Club might bo said to
have given its evidence in full. It was a plump
letter, twice as heavy as any of the others.

Miss Lan(? turned it over meditatively. She
knew that no matter what Carrie Wilson's
personal experience uf marriage might be, that
her written opinions would be witty and inter-
esting, unless she had changed since her girl-
hood. She was tempted to leave it unopened
till morning. She thought she knew the trend
of its contents. Dolly Redmond and Carrie
Wilson, had been room-mates and close friends,
with like tastes and sympathies, and if the
dainty Carrie was obliged to deny herself the

TllK ytATiny.OSlAL CONFtDENC^ CLUH. 325

good things of life, it would be another case of
uncongenial environment, [ind negative misery,
partially covered by excuses for dear Tom or
Dick or Harry, and half-hearted assurances of
matrimonial satisfaction.

Already her head was in a whirl with con-
flicting mental images, beautiful thoughts, and
strange problems struggling in a chaos of in-
consequent ideas. There would be no sleep
for her to-night. If she retired now it would
be only to dream of husbands dozing behind
newspapers, and tragic-eyed women conscien-
tiously posing as " i ' tience on a monumi nt."

She looked at t iotter again, and as she
pressed it between her thumb nnd forefinger
tlu .. d broke. That decided hi r. She would
read it even if it kept her awake all night.
She tore it open and drew out half a quire of
note-paper cc. /ered with pi-etty angular hand-
writing.

" D , Dec. 20th, 189—.

"Dear Emily — I've been looking forward
with pleasure to this pportunity of telling you
what I think about the beneficent institution of
marriage. I wish, dear, that you too were mar-
ried, it would make it easier for me to express
my whole heart on the question. I must tell the
truth, you know, and yet I don't want to make
you discontented or envious.

" Well, as you are aware, I became one, two
1 was only an insignificant parti-

i.'

years ago.

§26 sAmts, siNi^^Eks AJ^D qvi:mi people.

fele before for a woman is not complete, till
the important other half is added on to her
personality It was time I married, so people
f 1 *u } ^""^ /eaclied the fatal thirty, but I
didn't feel old and never shall.

"The Wilsons are eternally younff Ber-
tram IS the only man I ever loved or fancied I
loved, the one desire of my eyes. I met him
many years ago to be accurate, nine years aero
to a day, and after that there was practicallv
no other man'm the world ; all the others weri

n?H.1«''"? '"'T/'" l6«^ perfect, of the genuine
article. I said to myself : ' Caroline, ySur old-
maid schemes are shattered ; you must either
marry that man or pine away into an earlv
grave, according to the approved method ih
sentimental novels.'

" You will Avish to know exactly what sort of
a man he is, fair or dark, homely or handsome
short or tall. Girls are alwa/s interesteclTn
asking such questions though l don't see that
they are much to the point. A woman does
not love a man's outside ; at least, she loves
him first for some internal quality, after that
she loves him body and soul, and tlmt, too, with-'
out regard to his shape or complexion ; it would
be the same no matter how he looked But I
Sand ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ "^^"^ curiosity about my
. " Open your eyes and ears while I brinff him

of the kind, as the showman said at Barnum's
circus, when he introduced the winged elephant.
He is below medium height, and slendeV, and-
tips the scales at a hundred and thirty pounds •

Mi MAfniMONiAL COlfFlbEXCB CLifil. 327

undeniably a small man. ]Jnt I'll not talk
about his size now; I'll probably mention it
severa times before I have'finisl,e,l I am™ ot
sure whetlier his eyes are blue or grav but thc^v
are very nice eyes indeed, clearftrlihTul anj
expressive, with cheery lights in' their depths

asir-gr ' "''''"'''' '^"* '' '^ -'••^' •'--We
"His other features including bis mous-
tache are fairly good. His hair is" brown and
fortunately tliere is enough of it to cover
his head His teeth are strong and white and
enhance his appearance when Se sm^s whle

"^t by any means seldom. His ears are set
back tidily against his head, they do not flap or

S;' ^rf?^^^?^^',)l^« «tyle is 'neat but Ct
?nf,?^ n ^^ '' \ntel igent, well educated, and
naturallv clever, but he is not the least bit con-
ceited ; he IS more apt to think that other peo-
ple know more than he does. He doesn't mS
any loud Drofession of religion, but he is genu
inely goocT in his simple, Unostentatious way
I suppose he has his allotted ,)ortion of 'original

Tkeep's't ' ^''P^'' ^"' ^ '"^'^ ^'^'^^^^^^ ^^^'"'^
"He has nr^ver been considered a brilliant or
successful man, but there is something n him
that nobody sees but me-something that ™
akm to he elements of greatness, an! I have
an Idea that with me for a helpmate he w H
surprise the world some day. lie is not much
of a talker but when he has .anything to say he

S mor^ffn^'^ ''''}^ r^^"« sinc'Jare
otten more effective and eloquent than words

t'r'tS.^^^^^^"^^^^ ^-'^^'^y - ^- absolute

7 51
i :,im

32§ BAiNTS, SINNjEHS Aifl) QUEER PEOPLE.

" He is frank, transparent, and sincere in
thought, Avord, and deed ; and there is some-
thing about him which compels truth from
the lips and conduct of those with whom
he associates. I could not deceive him if I
tried and I would never dream of attempting
the slightest equivocation. If such a tempta-
tion occurred to me I would feel unworthy to
be the wife of my husband. My heart's cur-
rents run a^ free and clear in the light and
warmth of his love, as the limpid stream which
reflects the sunlight.

" Ko doubt there is in all of us a tendency to
evil which constitutes our baser self, and some
people who have the affinitive counterpart
within themselves can call it to the surface
easier than others could ; so is the true, good
self within us aroused and inspired by the good
in another person. My love is based upon this
principle of affinitive attraction. The ^ood in
me seeks and is satisfied with the good m him,
and this union of the best in each of us, forms
a stronghold, against which our baser selves
are powerless.

" You will laugh to yourself and say that we
have been married only a short time and that
I am still under the spell of novelty ; but you
must remember that we were engaged for
seven years, and saw each other aunost con-
stantly. I didn't know how long I would need
to wait for him, for he was most ignominiously
poor, and hadn't one rich relative to bless him-
self with, but I would have waited a hundred
years if necessary.

" He wouldn't have aspired to me, the pam-

fiiE Matrimonial confidence cwb. 329

pered daughter of a wealthy man if I hadn't
encouraged him. I knew lie loved me and
would die rather than admit it till he wasin
a better position to support a wife After

Part' Tn^l 7'^'' "^™' ^^^^1 ^lfr«^* wett to
D^r] 'of? 1^"™^? ^'^ T^^^^to, the generous

vvf ly. ^?^ ''" "" ^'^'"° ^" Castle Bolemia if
we chose to marry. iciina u

" But Bertram wouldn't hear of it. He is
very independent. So I encouraged him and he
plodded along like the hero that\e is, and the
years rolled on, while we loved each other and
Wd and waited. . I smoothed out my wrinkles
with a flannel wash rag and hot water and tS
sfbleXTf ?"'.''"^ V^^"^^ asTongas ;os
an old bride I have always desired to make
the most and best of myself for his sake

DresIce'ornT^^i^r*^^ ^* ^«"»«» '^ the
presence of a few relatives. A funnV thine-

happened at the close of the wedding servce^

that^^ where the all-important kiss comlsir^^^^^
know. Bertram forgot about the people who
Avere standing arouSd, and he kissed me no?
once or tmce but half-a-dozen times quite
ravenously just as he does when no one is
looking. I don't know how long he would
have kept it up if I hadn't freed oSe corner of
my mouth and said 'check ! ' He is a chess
teant '^"* '"'"'^ straightened him up L

"As to our married life it is exactly in ac-
cordance with my ideal. I began to dLLm of

means, and the reality exceeds my highest

■ ~r

I I

H^O fiAlNfS, Sl^fNms AKD qUEEIt PEOPLE.

expectations. My husband is my lover, my
friend, confidante, and chum ; the satisfying all
in one. We seem rather selfish perhaps, indeed
it has been remarked of us more than once.
Certain persons think they have a grievance
because they feel superfluous when in our com-
pany.

"We don't even see them sometimes, we
are so completely absorbed in each other.
There is some truth in it, but why should they
complain, wliat do they expect ? I don't know
why there should be any objection to our ap-
pearing to be what vre really are — one, in the
completest sense of the word. *^ We can tolerate
acquaintances when they are agreeable, and
our friends are heartily welcome to our home ;
but they are all superfluous in this respect that
we could live without them, so long as we are
spared to each other.

" Our pleasures and amusements, as well as
our serious purposes of life are identical, and
this union of sympathy is strengthened and
deepened day b\ day. I never could under-
stand those people, who, as soon as they are
tied together for all time, straightway begin
to puU m opposite directions, as if their object
was to see what a bad tangle they could make
of the connu bial knot. In little and big matters
we are of one mind, so we have no cause for
disagreement.

" What pleases him pleases me, and if I
did hot like it for itself, it would still be
satisfactory to me solely because he wished
it. Do you understand, you dear, independent
woman ? No, I don't suppose you do, though

THE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 331

you would be luippier if you did. Self-sacri-
fice, and self-abnegiition are the sweetest thino-s
when one loves. ^

"Duty is an unsmiling task-master Avho doles
out his rewards grudgingly, but love makes
every act of self-surrender such a conscious
delight, that reward is a meaningless word
as though one should quaff life's full cup
to the last intoxicating drop and still ask
more, as a reward for drinking it.

"More? There is no more. It is the one
satisfying draught that is held to our lips by
the hand of Fate. Fame, riches, intellectual
achievement, even the lofty purposes of social
reformation which agitate the feminine mind
in these latter days, are as nothing compared to
It. If a woman is so unfortunate as never to
knovv this Divine mvstery, then it is allowable
for her to interest herself in the best way she
can, and devote herself to some noble calling.
Ikit unless she is a very peculiar mortal she must
always know in the depths of her heart that
she has missed the purpose of her existence
and failing this, is simply putting in time to as
good an advantage as possible.

" Talking of amusement, last summer a num-
ber of gentlemen got up a camping expedition
and asked my husband to join them. He jeered
at the idea, said he wasn't such a chump as to
go off rusticating with men, and imagine he
was enjoying himself. It was all very well for
the fellows who hadn't a Avife or sweetheart,
but as for him he had a jollier scheme in view.
" We went together, Bertram and I, how else
Bhould we go ? It was a legalized temptation,

332 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

and we had no need of any troublesome third
l)orsoii. We made a trip of a hundred miles
on our bicycles, and oh, what a delightful time
we had ! I'll tell you more about it some day
when I am less burdened with matrimonial coii-
lidences. "We rode, hunted, boated, and swam
together. By the way, Emily, I have become
quite an adept at manly sports. Of course I
could play tennis and golf and football before
I was marri^ed, but now I am a crack shot and
can swim like a duck. I don't think that I am
unfeminized by these recreations. I hope not.
I abhor a mannish woman.

" Bertram and I are fond of reading. The
early part of our courting was done largely
through the medium of books. When he was
too shy to take the personal responsibility of
a tender statement on his own behalf, he would
search diligently for printed passages which
demonstrated his state of mmd, and, when
found, underlined them delicately, and lent me
the hook ; as he gradually grew bolder, lines
became correspondingly blacker, till at last he
even dared to scribble notes in the margin. I
enjoyed the custom, it gave us an insight into
each ^other's mental processes, and facilitated
conversation.

" We have not departed from it altogether
even yet. We buy all the new books that are
worth reading, and discuss them during our
cosy evening talks. I make myself look pretty
for my husband as I did in the days when he
came wooing. Ko married woman can afford
to be neglectful of the httle prettinesses and
charms of dress and manner, which caught

THE MATBIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 333

her lover's fancy, neither can she afford to
slight her accomplishments. The woman who
loves IS always anxious to look well and
cultivate her every gift of beauty and talent.
Why should she become dull and dowdv, and
forget the ittle she ever knew as soon ^ she
has succeeded m catching a man ?

"I like to see my husband look his best- if
he vvere careless as to his appearance, I would
consider it a poor compliment to me, and I
know that he feels as I do. Apropos of Ber-
tram s appearance, I must tell you a little story.
My bridesmaid had a decided penchant for
large men. Her ambition was to marry a six-
looter, who was as thick through as they make
them. When I asked her how she liked my
Husband, she said patronizingly •

Jll^^^}^ '^^""^ "'''f' Carrie, hut what did you
see to admire m such a little man ? If he Afere
bigger he would be adorable. I coukl never
marry a man of his size. I wouldn't be able to
respect him.'

"I winced under this unfeeling speech, it

hurt me, for the largest ingredient^n \he com!
position of my love, is respect, nay, absolute
reverence I grovel at my beloved's feet and
kiss his shoe-strings, metaphorically speaking,
every hour of the day. ^ ^ ctivmg,

* ThJT\ "'^' x/ "I' '""l^^^ ^^^g'^ity and replied -.

1 hat Bertram HoAvard was the biggest man I -
knew,' and I was on the point of fSflowing up
this declaration by a hap-tazard estimate as to
the size of his soul, when I checked myself. I

clte^X1kin' "^'^ *^ ^ girl whoVedso

: (^

834 SAINTS, SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPLE.

" She married shortly after and she certainly
got what she wanted in the way of huoe cor-
poreal proportions. A few mbnths aSo s-he
invited us to visit her. We went, my hus-
band and I, pre])are(l to be properly humble
on account of our short stature. She Las a
beautiful home, everything d la mode. He
Jias Ji smoking-room downstairs, Avith a side-
board m one corner, filled with classes, de-
canters, bottles, etc. She has a library up-
stairs adjoining her sleeping apartment. In
theevenmgsho holds high carnival with seme
ot his convivial associates, while she amuses
herself with the latest novel.

" I couldn't discover where he slept, probably
under the table or in the sideboard with congen-
ial spn-its. I hadn't been in the house five hours
before I knew that this big Benedict is a verit-
able tyrant. Anybody might know that by the
way he puts his feet down. He is so big that he
gets into his own eyes and can't see anybody
else c early. He seems to have a funny idea
that the earth and everything in it, was made
tor his special benefit. He is masterful and
authoritative and can make his wife shrink and
wince by a word or look. When anything dis-
pleases him, he sulks and is morbidly possessed
with the idea that somebody owes h'im an apol-
ogy.

^ " As there is a mystery frequently surround-
ing this somebody, his "^ wife apologizes in a
general way for the offences of an unappre-
ciative public, and abases herself to the last
degree for her own particular transgressions.
She cautiously smoothes his ruffled feathers and

EOPLE.

certainly
lUge cor-
ago i-he
mv h US-
humble
le Les a
')de. lie
I a side-
sses, de-
nary up-
?nt. In
ith seme
amuses

)robably
congen-
ve hours

a verit-
t by the

that he
nybody
my idea
is made
ful and
ink and
ing dis-
)ssessed
in apol-

rround-
s in a
nappre-
he last
Bssions.
ers and

)

TUB MATltmoNIAL COXFWEyCE Cl.Vn. 335

burns incense toliis viinitv, ami in tlie course „f
a few days l,o recovers sufficiently o mlS h ,
importance felt in the liousehol { vS- Iv the

came to us naturally. We are tacitlv% helplessll

T tS fl f ^ 1 ^^V^ ''^^ ^^ '^« otherwise when
1 think first of his happiness and he of mine ?

Love is a wonderful thing. I am filled wth
awe when I think of it. ^o philosopher has
been wise enough to explain it, no fiShou^ht
IS large enough to compare it.' It i^fo Sv
connected with our spiritual longings Id ilTus
trates so truthfully, though in a comparat^ely
small way, the love of God for His creatures
that those who understand the one must have
a clearer comprehension of the other Wlnt
souTsT '" ^^^^"^^^-%^b to sever two united

"Can anything separate me from mvh.is
band's love? No, tLnk God! X Sov'd

ThTt?.^^ ^ r, ^^'^ ""d ^-« ^^^ oZ foreve,

us 3i'i^r^'^' ''""'^'^ ^^^"1^1 ^^'^^ between
us and resistless circumstances combine to kppn

a3[n';io 'Z'% '^' ^^^"-^ to each'ote
according to the divme decree which provides
not only for the temporary union of flesh but
for the indestructible union of spirit To mv
mmd love is the emblem of immortality S«
SlSr Pjr^ ''. ^ -i^ening^^^^^^^^^^^^
01 eternity. Certainly it does not end with thia
jrfe; for even death itself is powerless lo stem

83G SAiyrs, smysiis and queeii people.

its progress. It is the river of pure joy which
never runs dry. Pounng clear from its ex-
haustless source, Divine love. It waters every
barren spot in life, revives every drooping
blossom of g(wdness in the soul, and empties at
last into the ocean of intiniiv.

" I li;i(l never given much thought to religious
matters till I met and loved my darling ; after
that I was irresistibly drawn to the Giver of
such a good and perfect gift. To make this
idea clearei* I quote a sonnet by Christina lios-
setti, which exactly expresses my mind towards
my husband :

*• * Trust me, I have not earned your dear rebuke,
I love as you would have me, God the most ;
Would lo:.e not Him, but you, must one be lost.
Nor with Lot's wife cast back one faithless look
Unready to forego what I forsook ;
This, say I, having counted up the cost
This though I be the feeblest of God's host.
The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook
Yet while I love my God the most, I deem
That I can never love you overmuch ;
I love Him more so let me love you too :
Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such
I cannot love you if I love not Him,
I cannot love Him if I love not you.'

*' I think that one reason why marriage is not
universally successful is that people are too apt
to look at it from a temporal point of view,
and lose sight of its deeper spiritual meaning.
There is so much talk about marriage which is
wide of the mark, so much stereotyped advice
as to the kind of person one ought and ought
not to marry, that the process ot mating is be-
^min^ artificial and calculating. I have mor^

» '..

THE MATUIMOMAL CONFIDENCE CLUU,. 337

confidenco in u natural spontaneous choice
When men and women love truly, a rec W
tive influence is set at work in tlieir S^ef
and the mere fact that they are strong enou'h

deal of trouble m the selection of a wife 111
to mlrry ''"""^^^'^^^ ^^n^^^sion that he ought

"lie was acquainted with a number of excel-
lent girls, any one of whom would be likely to
make him a good wife. He went to his pastor
and asked for the benefit of his adyice and
co-operation, which was readily granted The
two gentlemen met every evening for a week
to discuss the pros and cons of certain eligible

iW^^^^^^ "^ ^™*^ — i^^- of

" Finally they found a young lady who con-
formed to their high standard of womanly ex-
cellence, and the minister gave her in mar-
riage to the s<3nsible, cool-headed young m-in
Observe the sequence. She is a faultless wife;
as tar as one can judge from appearances, but
though he admires her, it is not the intimate
admiration which comes from a sense of pos-
session. 1

u v J? f ^""^ \^ ^^^'^'■^^ ^^^ perfections with
a kind of remote iwe, and in matters of moral-
ity she IS a second conscience to him, a less
flexible and comfortable one than his first

Wo^o/'' ^•/'^ ^^ "^"""^ ^* ^^'^ point of the .
bayonet as it were, and wages war against
many of his habits and amusements. In r^

?? - ■

■I!)
i

II I

II '

338 SAINTS, SINNKIiS AND qUKKli PEOPLE.

taliation lio makes homo unpleasant for hov
when she persists in attending women's ch.bs
fhnl l^^'^'r? ""^^^ societies. One has only to seo
them together to know that they are not the
Mvain in one but two very distinct and separ!
ate individuals chafing in soul bonda-e I^to
would have cured all that. So you sec^' E. Uh
itisn'tsafe to ignore the little ^a wUh win 4*
toTe ^"^ ''""'^ ''' fashionable as ho us'ed

Like DiaJi's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is uot hougTit ;

Nor voice, nor souiul betrays

Its deep, impassioned gaze.
It comes,-the beautiful, tiie free.
The crown of all humanity, —

In silence and alone

Taseok the elected one.'

"That is the right idea. Ko need to n-o
anxiously in search of it. It come, of tseJf ^f
It IS the Divine will that it should eoerldmo

t^^^^:^^^"^ '""^ ^- -^^^ ^« I-

What i like best about a sanctified love union*
IS the restfulness and contentment it brings
Home joys are so precious. We minele in
society to a moderate extent, but prefer infin-
itely our own cozy fireside. I hale no pettv
anxieties no engrossin^r vanities and vexations

phy'^icaUy!'^ ^'''^'''^ '^'''"^ '""^^^^"^ ^"^
"It is a ^reat thing to preserve perfect equani-
mity of mmd at all times, to be free from the

ujfitations wliich arc (luiTiagiiis. to one's (li..,w
t.on an,l e,„„,,loxion. Morc°wSmon a ■« S"
"lit l,y .lisoontont, tlian l.y l,„,-,l work .n
t. ,u .lo; an.l the little frictions of evervX

, " ^ ''f? l.'f«! ami a cheerful heart a smilii...

hav^.tht^''"^' "sr ;:^;'ri. ^ "•/""'•" ^"'

or fiituro ilpnn .1^ ^'^''^ ^""^ ^'^*^' present

^JK:^K^t';:^^s^r^:^r/'''^-^

J>nt I must leavo you no\v, for lo on mv
listening oar fulls the sound of a step n h«

little man m the Avorld ""oHuesc,

ti;eX'':nrirr''''-^''''-'"-'v^l^^

w«]f/iZ"f '""" '" '''""''™ ■■^" invitation to your
S"^' "'" "°''' ""'• ''^'''' y«>"- affectionate

"Caeuik Wilson IIowakd.

r have copied the following verses

--,•—■ TJiey were written bv mv siJer

Addie, the poet of our family, ami s^m verv

approDnate to this o^"i»:«n • ' " ^"IJ?^

1 . s.

for ^vou.
Addle, thv. ^
approDriate

HER SPHERE.

A maiden sang in the morning lio-ht
As she paused on the threshold of Hf.

Her voice was elad and hli 1 ^^ "'® =—
And hope in her inSo^P^^ 7^ ."^^^^ ^"g^*

;A trustin^g brir/Z'ulT coSo'bf "'^

I cmve a nobler dastiny; ™ ^'^ ^®'

A woman sobbed in the twilieht .m ,-
|ier e t» -l^-e^^^VLty.. What they „ay.

. |?'«SS%^Skthth
The way was hard and fP^ght "1?h J^^ ^"" '
And the world's naltrv nra ;£ • ^""Pa^n,
I would count it r fuK JSureTA*?; ^^^" '

Oh, that my youth VnicrJ^f !> P* ^^^^ "o more.

Miss Lane mechanicallv foldert tbo i ..

dropped forward ntoW hand: a T '"""

into her throat, her br^Tt Z^l:atnZZ

each convulsive breath. '*

"Oh, God I I am so lonely," she ,vhispered

fttE MATRIMONIAL CONFIDENCE CLUB. 341
passionately. "Dear God, pity me, lean to
me! lameoloiielt/r' She bad no other words
for the unspeakable need which possessed her.
rt was the formless cry of a hungry heart.
Such prayers are ans./ered.

In due time but that v/ould lead us into

another story. This one ends here.

THE END.

Recent Publications

BY THE

iUTflORS' PDBLISflING ISSOCIATIOH.

has been made to soTvi oL '"f"'' ^° ««enipt

and whereve^ rests 7^1 1''^ ^^^ '^"^ ^^'^ i
smile. The readers' -f J r' °,<=hange it into a
to the last page ' "'"^'°" '^ ^^'^ from the firs?

" SAINTS. SINNERS AND QUEER PEOPI p m

A compilation of short Yf^ • . ■^tOPLE."--

^^>'«.^«, author of « Love Ai't^ ^^'^;^^ ^'^^^
elor." ..Rochester Seafl^t^^'e^' ??L?'^ «-^h-
75 cents. The authoress ,^J,«- ^°'''' '^mo,
tributor to the « M idS m It,* '^^"^'"'''J ^on-
■niagazines, has, in theM ^°."*^ ^ ^"^^ "t^^er
previous undertaWn Js in 'h7r, '^'^'^' «''<=elled her
be appreciated by all thos. T^'^ l'"^' '*"d will
thetic and humor^ 'ie^pfctr^^^^ "' ^^^s of pa-

To turn at wT fmm th. •'' ''"^ ^"^^t"e man.

I'.

is laid in Germany Wthl.^'"*"'^/ "»« «""«
persons of ranCK t kt Xr^?""^ "^"^
penances to the reader dou\^y^:!;:re3i^„g. '"' ^^-
"THEN, AND NOT 'TIL THPm »» .

C/ara Nevada McLe^^ C^^' '^ "^^'^J- '^X
take pleasure in imrrdtin»^V/'"°-/'-°°- ^^'^
this new and promSne Ci/j'^ 'T'''"^ P"''''^'
story is certain to create w ' ^^"T P^"'*^'''''
This book has been wrhr.n fuP""^^'' attention,
the authoress has InndJed S "V^ P"'"'^^^' «"J
comprehensive taie?tha?[hf''J''=/ '" «"^'' «

oneorti;emo^;S^^;;ssf^!^^t/^

"THE BLUE RlDQEnYSTERY" a

"igwith Southern evpnf^c- T"^ "oveJ, deal-

oUne ^«r//« Solh 1 1'' "'' '^' «"''■' by Car-
question, all ove s of "Zi I^''"*^ ^^•''•°»t
read the above Itorv T^'' ''f''°" "-i" «'ant to

scription. dXgTcha?a:t:rs'rnr''l''-°' '"
pleasures and vicissitudes Siin^.E"'"""^ ^''1
her imag nation tenHs f A T ^ *"^ People of
usual interest ° P'"°^"'^^ * ^^'^^e of un-

"ScaHet, or White?"

A Novel, by Dr, Willis Mills.

Cloth, Embossed m Silver, ,2 mo.,

♦l.oO.

the question very dehcately "-//iS W™""" "'^ has'hZled
«tteniion.'--c»./X^V;a?J!'' " ''"ervinfir of coiwderaUon a„d

««

PROPERTY OF DON QlLfeAR/*

By Henri Block.

-Daily News, GalveS, Tex * ''"" '" *= """^ "x^k.

having advenluV that Lake, t,?l.r,P'^''"' ">'"' '™">
nal, Lincoln, Neb. ' "' '"'"' wim.— Stale Jour

«oi.ing i„ei,eL intr„rLtl"^-,,^he. a. „.a„.

-">••«' «ic ill;

•Waverly Magazine.

dianonola Record ^ ^"'^ *'''^'"' '''^ interest-lj

out

'^^oitXZx^:^^^^^^^^^ ^^^- -♦h an advent..

"THE STORY OF A TRAIN OF CARS."

larIe"oSe:td1p:„rUe'o?t"'''^"'>^-- '"to a
•-^ special trai'n made-up ti h cLe thus"Th^ '"P^^'"^ f""-
car. a first-front-hall-bedToom c^/ l m ^f ^ '' * ""«»■-
garden car, etc etc Th» m ^' * .^oo^sh theatre car.

the fifty centfasled fir' he'Sok TZ'' ^"' '! '^ "^'^
something that cannot be oiIjZT T™^ P^°P'« ^o find
mercial Advertiser "^''^ elsewhere.-N. Y. Com-

This story is satirical and amusing.^Publishers ^^ ,.,ly.

to s^e at all book store, or sent prepaid upon receipt of
' ■ ■ * • ■ 50 Cents.

i^^X

%^ <^

"LINES POR aNDEAVojfBf^S.'

Co»^ueaSj> £„„„, Halsey .u^ntting.
Clott,. :6mo. . . 50 Cents.

cZVl^,t33>■J;'e >-k .u« or ge„s of ftough,
of -mnspirad singers^lXm U, isS."'' "«' '""P

«c

•>

' Deborah.'

By Mary Ives Todd.
COTH, ,.„„, . . \^^

Sal. I.ke,"_Boi,eUe/aX;1ST? '^!.f°- "'

^. .0 life. Such'Sarr^^"!?' »" ""Sn'S
young readers, to a hatred for «?.. ■*'""== ">oy Irain
.sm."_I„ter Ocean, ChSgo "'" ^""^ "•»" "ealiw?

wo:?^f„„~S/ra„'",'^ a «.ro„g, „„„^^^

i'.iWr York City.