ROBERT HARDY'S 
 
 SEVEN DAYS
 
 CHARLES A\. SHELDON 
 
 ^ROBERT MARDVS 
 SEVEN DAYS 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 1F.NRY ALTENUS COMPANY
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was Sunday night, and Robert Hardy had 
 just come home from the evening service in 
 the church at Barton. He was not in the habit 
 of attending the evening service, but something 
 said by his minister in the morning had im- 
 pelled him to go out. The evening had been a 
 little unpleasant and a slight snow was falling, 
 and his wife had excused herself from going to 
 church on that account. Mr. Hardy came homo 
 cross and fault-finding. 
 
 "Catch me going to evening service again! 
 Only fifty people out, and it was a sheer waste 
 of fuel and light. The sermon was one of the 
 dullest I ever heard. I believe Mr. Jones is 
 growing too old for our church. We need a 
 young man, more up with the times. He is 
 everlastingly harping on the necessity of doing 
 what we can in the present to save souls. To 
 hear him talk you would think every man who 
 
 2132SG2
 
 6 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 wasn't running round to save souls every win- 
 ter was a robber and an enemy of society. He 
 is getting off, too, on this new-fangled Christian 
 Sociology, and thinks the rich men are oppress- 
 ing the poor, and that church members ought 
 to study and follow more closely the teachings 
 of Christ and be more brotherly and neighborly 
 to their fellow-men. Bah! I am sick of the 
 whole subject of humanity. I shall withdraw 
 my pledge to the salary if the present style of 
 preaching continues." 
 
 "What vas the text of the sermon to-night ?" 
 asked Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 "Oh, I don't remember exactly! Something 
 about 'this night thy soul shall be demanded,' 
 or words like that. I don't believe in this at- 
 tempt to scare folks into heaven." 
 
 "It would take a good many sermons to scare 
 you, Eobert." 
 
 "Yes, more than two a week," replied Mr. 
 Hardy with a dry laugh. He drew off his over- 
 coat and threw himself down on the lounge in 
 front of the open fire. "Where are the girls ?" 
 
 "Alice is upstairs reading the morning paper.
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 7 
 
 Clara and Bess went over to call on the 
 Caxtons." 
 
 "How did they happen to go over there?" 
 Mrs. Hardy hesitated. Finally she said, 
 'James came over and invited them." 
 
 "And they know I have forbidden them to 
 have anything to do with the Caxtons ! When 
 they come in, I will let them know I mean what 
 I say. It is very strange the girls do not ap- 
 pear to understand that." 
 
 Mr. Hardy rose from the lounge and walked 
 across the room, then came back and lay down 
 again, and from his recumbent position poked 
 the fire savagely with the shovel. Mrs. Hardy 
 bit her lips and seemed on the point of reply- 
 ing but said nothing. At last Mr. Hardy 
 asked: 
 
 "Where are the boys?" 
 
 "Will is getting out his lessons for to-morrow 
 up in his room. George went out about eight 
 o'clock. He didn't say where he was going." 
 
 "It's a nice family. Is there one night in the 
 year, Mary, when all our children are at home?" 
 
 "Almost as many as there are when you are
 
 8 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 at home!" retorted Mrs. Hardy. "What with 
 your club and your lodge and your scientific 
 society and your reading circle and your direc- 
 tors' meeting, the children see about as much 
 of you as you do of them. How many nights 
 in a week do you give to us, Eobert? Do you 
 think it is strange that the children go outside 
 for their amusements? Our home " Mrs. 
 Hardy paused and looked around at the costly 
 interior of the room where the two were "our 
 home is well furnished with everything but our 
 own children!" 
 
 The man on the lounge was silent. He felt 
 the sharpness of the thrust made by his wife 
 and knew it was too true to be denied. But 
 Mr. Hardy was, above all things else, selfish. 
 He had not the remotest intention of giving up 
 his club or his scientific society or his frequent 
 cozy dinners with business men down town, be- 
 cause his wife spent so many lonely, deserted 
 evenings at home and that his children were 
 almost strangers to him. But it annoyed him. 
 as a respectable citizen, to have his children 
 making acquaintances that he did not approve
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and it grated on his old-fashioned, inherited 
 New England ideas that his boys and girls 
 should be away from home so often in the even- 
 ing, and especially on Sunday evening. The 
 maxim of Robert Hardy's life was, "Self-inter- 
 est first." As long as he was not thwarted in 
 his own pleasures he was as good-natured as the 
 average man. He provided liberally for the 
 household expenses, and his wife and children 
 were supplied with money and travel as they 
 requested it. But the minute he was crossed m 
 his own plans or anyone demanded of him a 
 service that compelled some self-denial, he bo- 
 came hard, ill-natured and haughty. He had 
 been a member of the church at Barton for 
 twenty years; one of the trustees and a liberal 
 giver. He prided himself on that fact. But so 
 far as giving any of his time or personal service 
 was concerned, he would as soon have thought 
 of giving all his property away to the first poor 
 man he met. His minister had, this last week, 
 written him an earnest, warm-hearted letter, 
 expressing much pleasure at the service he had 
 rendered so many years as a trustee, and asking
 
 10 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 him if he would not come to the Thursday 
 evening meeting that week and take some part, 
 whatever he chose, to help along. It was a sea- 
 son of anxious interest among many in the 
 church, and the pastor earnestly desired the 
 presence and help of all the members. Eobert 
 had read the letter through hastily and smiled 
 a little scornfully. What! He take part in a 
 prayer meeting! He couldn't remember when 
 he had attended one. They were too dull for 
 him. He wondered at Mr. Jones for writing 
 such a letter, and almost felt as if he had been 
 impertinent. He threw the letter in the waste- 
 basket and did not even answer it. He would 
 Dot have been guilty of such a lack of courtesy 
 in a business letter received, but a letter from 
 his minister was another thing. The idea of 
 replying to a letter from him never occurred to 
 Mr. Hardy. And when Thursday night came, 
 he went down to a meeting of the Chess Club 
 and had a good time with his favorite game. 
 For he was a line player, and was engaged in a 
 series of games which were being played for the 
 State championship. The superintendent of
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 11 
 
 the Sunday-school had lately timidly ap- 
 proached Mr. Hardy and asked him if he would 
 not take a class of boys in the Sunday-school. 
 What! He take a class of boys? He, the inn u- 
 ential, wealthy manager of one of the largest 
 railroad shops in the world he give his time 
 to the teaching of a Sunday-school class! He 
 excused himself on the score of lack of time, 
 and the very same evening of his interview with 
 the superintendent he went to the theatre to 
 hear a roaring farce, and after he reached home 
 spent an hour in his favorite study of chemistry 
 in his laboratory at the top of his house. For 
 Mr. Hardy was a man of considerable power as 
 a student, and he had an admirable physical 
 constitution, capable of the most terrible strain. 
 Anything that gave him pleasure he was willing 
 to work for. He was not lazy. But the idea of 
 giving his personal time and service and talents 
 to bless the world had no more in his mind. 
 
 And so, as he lay on the lounge that evening 
 and listened to his wife's plain statement con- 
 cerning his selfishness, he had no intention to 
 give up a single thing that gratified his tastes
 
 12 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 arid fed his pride. After a silence just about 
 long enough for some one to give the explana- 
 tion just given, Mrs. Hardy said, speaking cold- 
 ly as if it were a matter of indifference to her: 
 
 "Mr. Burns, the foreman, called while you 
 were out." 
 
 "He did ? What did he want ?" 
 
 "He said four of the men in the casting-room 
 were severely injured this afternoon by the 
 bursting of one of the retorts and the entire 
 force had quit work and gone home." 
 
 "Couldn't Burns supply the place of the in- 
 jured men ? He knows where the extras are." 
 
 "That was what he came to see you about. 
 Ho said he needed further directions. The men 
 flatly refused to work another minute and went 
 out in a body. I don't blame them much. Rob- 
 ert, don't you believe God will punish you for 
 keeping the shops open on Sunday ?" 
 
 "Nonsense, Mary," replied Mr. Hardy; yet 
 there was a shadow of uneasiness in his tone. 
 "The work has got to go on. It is a work of 
 necessity. Railroads are public servants. They 
 can't rest Sundays."
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 13 
 
 "Then when God tells the world that it must 
 not work on Sundays, He does not mean rail- 
 road men? The Fourth Commandment ought 
 to read, 'Remember the Sabbath Day and keep 
 it holy except all ye men who work for rail- 
 roads. Ye haven't any Sunday." 
 
 "Mary, I didn'"t come from one sermon to lis- 
 ten to another. You're worse than Mr. Jones." 
 
 Mr. Hardy half rose on the lounge and leaned 
 on his elbow, looking at his wife with every 
 mark of displeasure on his face. And yet as he 
 looked, somehow there stole into his thought 
 the memory of the old New England home back 
 in the Vermont hills, and the vision of that 
 quiet little country village where Mary and lie 
 had been brought up together. He seemed to 
 see the old meeting-house on the hill at the end 
 of a long, elm-shaded street that straggled 
 through the village, and he saw himself again 
 as he began to fall in love with Mary, the beauty 
 of the village, and he had a vision of one Sun- 
 day when, walking back from church by Mary's 
 side, he had asked her to be his wife. It seemed 
 to him that a breath of the meadow just beyond
 
 11 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Squire Hazen's place came into the room just 
 as it was wafted up to him when Mary turned 
 and said the happy word that made that day the 
 gladdest, proudest day he had ever known. 
 What memories of the old times ! What ! 
 
 He seemed to come to himself and stared 
 around into the fire as if wondering where he- 
 was, and he did not see the tear that rolled 
 down his wife's cheek and fell upon her two 
 hands clasped in her lap. She arose and went 
 over to the piano which stood in shadow, and 
 sitting down with her back to her husband she 
 played fragments of music nervously. Mr. 
 Hardy lay down on the lounge again. After 
 awhile Mrs. Hardy wheeled about on the piano 
 stool and said: 
 
 "Kobert, don't you think you had better go 
 over and see Mr. Burns about the men who 
 were hurt?" 
 
 "Why, what can I do about it? The com- 
 pany's doctor will see to them. I should only 
 be in the way. Did Burns say they were badly 
 hurt?" 
 
 "One of them had! his eyes put out, and an-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 15 
 
 other will have to lose both feet. I think he 
 eaid his name was Scoville." 
 "What, not Ward Scoville?" 
 "I think Burns said that was the name/' 
 Mr. Hardy rose from the lounge, then lay 
 down again. "Oh, well, I can go there the first 
 thing in the moraing. I can't do anything 
 now," he muttered. 
 
 But there came to his memory a picture of 
 one day when ho was walking through the ma- 
 chine shops, and a heavy piece of casting had 
 broken from the end of a large hoisting derrick 
 and would have fallen upon him and probably 
 killed him if this man, Scoville, at the time a 
 workman in the machine department, had not 
 pulled him to one side at the danger of his own 
 life. As it was, in saving the life of the mana- 
 ger, Scoville was struck on the shoulder and 
 rendered useless for work for four weeks. Mr. 
 Hardy had raised his wages and advanced him 
 to a responsible position in the casting-room. 
 Mr. Hardy was not a man without generosity 
 and humane feeling. But as he lay on the 
 lounge that evening and thought of the cold
 
 16 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 snow outside and the distance to the shop tene- 
 ments, he readily excused himself from going out 
 to see the man who had once saved his life and 
 who now lay maimed for life. If anyone thinks 
 it impossible that one man calling himself a 
 Christian could be thus indifferent to another, 
 then he does not know the power that selfish- 
 ness can exercise over the actions of men. Mr. 
 Hardy had one supreme law which he obeyed, 
 and that law was self. 
 
 Again Mrs. Hardy, who rarely ventured to 
 oppose her husband's wishes, turned to the 
 piano and struck a few chords aimlessly. Then 
 she wheeled about and said abruptly: 
 
 "Robert, the cook gave warning to-night that 
 she must go home at once." 
 
 Mr. Hardy had begun to doze a little, but at 
 this sudden statement he sat up and exclaimed : 
 "Well, you are the bearer of bad news to-night, 
 Mary. What's the matter with everybody? I 
 suppose the cook wants more pay." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy replied quietly, "Her sister is 
 dying. And do you know, I believe I have 
 never given the girl credit for much feeling.
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 17 
 
 She always seemed to me to lack there, though 
 she is certainly the most faithful and efficient 
 servant we ever had in the house. She came 
 in just after Mr. Burns left, and broke down, 
 crying bitterly. It seems her sister is married 
 to one of the railroad men here in town and has 
 been ailing with consumption for some months. 
 She is very poor, and a large family has kept 
 her struggling for mere existence. The cook 
 was almost beside herself with grief as she told 
 the story, and eaid she must leave us and care 
 for her sister, who could not live more than a 
 week at longest. I pitied the poor girl. Eob- 
 ert, don't you think we could do something for 
 the family? We have so much ourselves. We 
 could easily help them and not miss a single 
 luxury." 
 
 "And where would such help end ? If we give 
 to every needy person who comes along we shall 
 be beggars ourselves. Besides, I can't afford it. 
 The boys are a heavy expense to me while they 
 are in college, and the company has been cut- 
 ting down salaries lately. If the cook's sister is 
 married to a railroad man, he is probably get-
 
 IS Robert Hardy's Sevea Days. 
 
 ting good wages and can support her all right." 
 
 "What if that railroad man was injured and 
 m<ide a cripple for life?" inquired Mrs. Hardy 
 quietly. 
 
 "Then the insurance companies or the so- 
 cieties can help them out. I don't see how we 
 can make every case that comes along our care. 
 There would be no end of it if we once began." 
 
 "As near as I could find out," continued Mrs. 
 Hardy without replying to her husband's re- 
 marks, "cook's sister is married to one of the 
 men who was hurt this afternoon. She talks 
 so brokenly in our language that I could not 
 make out exactly how it is. And she was much 
 excited. Suppose it was Scoville. Couldn't 
 you do something for them then, Robert ?" 
 
 "1 might," replied Mr. Hardy briefly. "But 
 I can tell you, I have more calls for my money 
 now than I can meet. Take the church ex- 
 penses for example. Why, we are called upon 
 to give to some cause or other every week be- 
 sides our regular pledges for current expenses. 
 It's a constant drain. I shall have to cut down 
 on my pledge. We can't be giving to every
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 19 
 
 thing, all the time, and have any thing our- 
 selves." 
 
 Mr. Hardy spoke with a touch of indignation, 
 and his wife glanced around the almost palatial 
 room and smiled, and then her face grew a lit- 
 tle stern and almost forbidding as she remem- 
 bered that only last week her husband had 
 spent $150 for a new electrical apparatus to ex- 
 periment with in his laboratory. And now he 
 was talking hard times, and grudging the small 
 sums he gave to religious objects in connection 
 with his church, and thinking he could not af- 
 ford to help the family of a man who had once 
 saved his life. 
 
 Again she turned to the piano and played 
 awhile, but she could not be rested by the music 
 as sometimes she had been. When she finally 
 arose and walked over by the table near the end 
 of the lounge, Mr. Hardy was asleep, and she 
 sat down by the table gazing into the open fire 
 drearily, a look of sorrow and unrest on the face 
 still beautiful but worn by years of disappoint- 
 ment and the loss of that respect and admira- 
 tion she once held for the man who had vowed
 
 20 llobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 at the altar to make her happy. She had not 
 lost her love for him wholly, but she was fast 
 losing the best part of it, the love which has vts 
 daily source in an inborn respect. When re- 
 spect is gone, love is not long in following after. 
 
 She sat thus for half an hour and was at last 
 aroused by the two girls, Clara and Bess, com- 
 ing in. They were laughing and talking togeth- 
 er and had evidently parted with some one tt 
 the door. Mrs. Hardy went out into the hallwa y. 
 
 "Hush, girls, your father is asleep! YIJU 
 know how he feels to be awakened suddenly ly 
 noise. But he has been waiting up for you." 
 
 "Then I guess we'll go upstairs without bid- 
 ding him good-night," said Clara, abruptly. "I 
 don't want to be lectured about going over to 
 the Caxtons." 
 
 "No, I want to see you both, and have a little 
 talk with you. Come in here." Mrs. Hardy 
 drew the two girls into the front room and 
 pulled the curtains together over the arch open- 
 ing into the room where Mr. Hardy lay. "Now 
 tell me, girls, why did your father forbid your 
 oing over to the Caxtons? I did not know
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 'H 
 
 until to-night. Has it something to do whh 
 James?" 
 
 Neither of the girls said anything for a min- 
 ute. Then Bess, who was the younger of the 
 two and famous for startling the family with 
 very sensational remarks, replied, "James and 
 Clara are engaged; and they are going to be 
 married to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy looked at Clara and the girl grtnv 
 very red in the face, and then, to the surprke 
 of her mother and Bess, she burst out into a 
 violent fit of crying. Mrs. Hardy gathered hfr 
 into her arms as in the olden times when she 
 was a little child and soothed her into quiet- 
 ness. "Tell me all about it, dear. I did not 
 know you cared for James in that way." 
 
 "But I do," sobbed Clara. "And father 
 guessed something and forbade us going there 
 any more. But I didn't think he would mind 
 it if Bess and I went just this one night. I 
 couldn't help it, anyway. Mother, isn't it right 
 for people to love each other ?" 
 
 " 'Tisn't proper to talk about such things on 
 Sunday," said Bess solemnly.
 
 23 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "Clara," said Mrs. Hardy, "why you're only 
 a child yet! Is it true that James is why, he 
 is only a boy." 
 
 "He is twenty-one and I am eighteen and he's 
 earning forty dollars a month in the office and 
 one of the best stenographers in the State, and 
 we've talked it over, and I wish we could be 
 married to-morrow, so!" Clara burst out with 
 it all at once, while Bess remarked quietly, 
 
 "Yes, they're real sensible, and I think James 
 is nice, but when I marry I want more than 
 forty dollars a month for candy alone. And 
 then he isn't particularly handsome." 
 
 "He is too!" cried Clara. "And he's good 
 and brave and splendid, and I'd rather have 
 him than a thousand such men as Lancey Cum- 
 mings ! Mother, I don't want money. It hasn't 
 made you happy!" 
 
 "Hush, dear!" Mrs. Hardy felt as if a blow 
 had smitten her in the face. She was silent 
 then. Clara put her arms around her mother 
 and whispered, 
 
 "Forgive me, mother, I didn't mean to hurt 
 you. But I am so unhappy!"
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 23 
 
 Unhappy! And yet the girl was just begin- 
 ning to blossom out towards the face of God 
 under the influence of that most divine and 
 tender and true feeling that ever comes to a 
 girl who knows a true, brave man loves her with 
 all his soul. And some people would have us 
 leave this subject to the flippant novelist in- 
 stead of treating it as Christ did when He said, 
 "For this cause (that is, for love) shall a man 
 leave his father and mother and cleave unto his 
 wife." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy was on the point of saying some- 
 thing when the sound of peculiar steps on the 
 stairs was heard, and shortly after Alice pushed 
 the curtains aside and came in. Alice was the 
 oldest girl in the family. She was a cripple, the 
 result of an accident when a child, and she car- 
 ried a crutch, using it with much skill and even 
 grace. The minute she entered the room she 
 saw something was happening, but she simply 
 said, 
 
 "Mother, isn't it a little strange father sleeps 
 so soundly? I went up to him and spoke to 
 him just now, thinking he was just lying there,
 
 24 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and he didn't answer, and then I saw he was 
 asleep. But I never knew him to sleep so Sun- 
 day night. He usually reads, up in the study."' 
 "Perhaps he is sick, I will go and see." 
 Mrs. Hardy rose and went into the other 
 room. And just then the younger boy, Will, 
 came downstairs. He said something to his 
 mother as he passed through the room, and 
 then came in where the girls were, carrying 
 one of his books in his hand. 
 
 "Say, Alice, translate this passage for me, 
 will you? Confound the old Eomans anyway! 
 What do I care about the way they fought their 
 old battles, and built their old one-horse 
 bridges! What makes me angry is the way 
 Ca-sar has of telling a thing. Why can't he 
 drive right straight ahead instead of beating 
 about the bush so ? If I couldn't get up a bet- 
 ter language than these old duffers used to 
 write their books in, I'd lie down and die. I 
 can't find the old verb to that sentence any 
 way. Maybe it's around on the other page 
 somewhere, or maybe Caesar left it out just on 
 purpose to plague us boys."
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 25 
 
 And Will shied the book over to Alice, who 
 good-naturedly began to read, while that much- 
 suffering youth sat down by Bess and began to 
 tease her and Clara. 
 
 "What are you and Clara doing at this time 
 of day? Time you youngsters were going up- 
 stairs. Play us a little tune, Bessie, will you? What 
 have you been crying for, Clara Vere de Vere ?" 
 
 "I should think you would be ashamed of 
 yourself, Will, studying on Sunday nights!" 
 said little Bess, reprovingly, and with dignity. 
 
 "No worse than sparking Sunday nights," 
 retorted the incorrigible Will. 
 
 "I haven't been," replied Bess, indignantly. 
 "I've been with Clara" 
 
 "She doesn't need any help does she?" in- 
 quired Will, innocently. And going over where 
 Clara lay with her face hid in the pillow of a 
 large couch, Will tried to pull the pillow out 
 from under her head. 
 
 "Let me alone, Will. I don't feel well," said 
 a muffled voice from the pillow. 
 
 "Pshaw! you're fooling." 
 
 "No I'm not. Let me alone."
 
 26 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "Come here, or I won't read your sentence 
 for you/' called Alice. And Will reluctantly 
 withdrew, for he knew from experience that 
 Alice would keep her word. 
 
 "All right. Now go ahead ; not too fast. Here ! 
 Wait a minute! Let me write her down. I 
 don't intend to miss to-morrow if I can help it. 
 And old Romulus will call me up on this very 
 passage, I know. Be just like him though, to 
 strike me on the review." 
 
 At that minute the door opened and in came 
 George, the elder boy, and the oldest of the 
 group of children. He hung up his hat and 
 coat and strolled into the room. 
 
 "Where's mother?" 
 
 "She's in the other room," answered Bess. 
 "Father's been asleep and mother was afraid 
 he was going to have a fever." 
 
 "That's one of your stories," said George, 
 who seemed in a good-natured mood. He sat 
 down and drew his little sister towards him 
 and whispered to her, 
 
 "Say, Bess, I want some money again." 
 
 "Awfully?" whispered Bess.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 27 
 
 "Yes, for a special reason. Do you think you 
 could let me have a little?" 
 
 "Why, of course, you can have all my month's 
 allowance. But why don't you ask father?" 
 
 "No, I've asked him too much lately. He re- 
 fused point blank last time. I didn't like it 
 the way he spoke." 
 
 "Well you can have all mine," said Bess whis- 
 pering. 
 
 George and she were great friends, and there 
 was not a thing that Bessie would not have done 
 for her big brother, who was her hero. What 
 he wanted with so much money she never asked. 
 
 They were still whispering together, and 
 Clara had just risen to go upstairs, and Alice 
 and Will had finished the translation, and Will 
 was just on the point of seeing how near he 
 could come to throwing the Commentaries of 
 Csesar into an ornamental Japanese jar across 
 the room, when Mrs. Hardy parted the cur- 
 tains at the arch and beckoned her children to 
 come into the next room. Her face was ex- 
 ceedingly pale and she was trembling as if with 
 some great terror.
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The children all cried out in surprise and 
 hurried into the next room. But before relat- 
 ing what happened there, we will follow Mr. 
 Hardy into the experience he had, just after 
 falling asleep upon the lounge b} r the open fire. 
 
 It seemed to him that he stepped at once 
 from the room where he lay into a place such 
 as he had never seen before, where the one 
 great idea that filled his entire thought was the 
 idea of the Present Moment. Spread out be- 
 fore him as if reproduced by a phonograph and 
 a magic lantern combined, was the moving 
 panorama of the entire world. He thought he 
 saw into every home, every public place of busi- 
 ness, every saloon and place of amusement, 
 every shop, and every farm, every place of in- 
 dustry, amusement, and vice upon the face of 
 the globe. And he thought he could hear the 
 world's conversation, catch its sobs, of suffering, 
 nay, even catch the meaning of unspoken
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 29 
 
 thoughts of the heart. With that absurd rap- 
 idity peculiar to certain dreams, he fancied 
 that over every city on the globe was placed a 
 glass cover through which he could look, and 
 through which the sounds of the city's industry 
 came to him. But he thought that he ascer- 
 tained that by lifting off one of these covers he 
 could hear with greater distinctness the 
 thoughts of the inhabitants, and see all they 
 were doing and suffering, with the most minute 
 exactness. He looked for the place of his own 
 town, Barton. There it lay in its geographical 
 spot on the globe, and he thought that, moved 
 by an impulse he could not resist, he lifted off 
 the cover and bent down to see and hear. 
 
 The first thing he saw was his minister's 
 home. It was just after the Sunday evening 
 service, the one which Mr. Hardy had thought 
 so dull. Mr. Jones was talking over the even- 
 ing with his wife. 
 
 "My dear," he said, "I feel about discour- 
 aged. Of what use is all our praying and long- 
 ing for the Holy Spirit, when our own church 
 members are so cold and unspiritual that all
 
 30 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 His influence is destroyed? And you know I 
 made a special plea to all the members to come 
 out to-night, and only a handful there. I feel 
 like giving up the struggle. You know I could 
 make a better living in literary work, and the 
 children could be better cared for then." 
 
 "But, John, it was a bad night to get out, 
 you must remember that." 
 
 "But only fifty out of a church membership 
 of four hundred, most of them living near by. 
 It doesn't seem just right to me." 
 
 "Mr. Hardy was there. Did you see him?" 
 
 "Yes, after service I went and spoke to him 
 and he treated me very coldly. And yet he is 
 the most wealthy, and in some ways the most 
 gifted church member we have. He could do great 
 things for the good of this community, if " 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Hardy thought the minister 
 changed into the Sunday-school superintend- 
 ent, and he was walking down the street think- 
 ing about his classes in the school, and Mr. 
 Hardy thought he could hear the superintend- 
 ent's thoughts as if his ear was at a phono- 
 graph.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 31 
 
 "It's too bad that class of boys I wanted Mr. 
 Hardy to take left the school because no one 
 could be found to teach them. And now Bob 
 Wilson has got into trouble and been arrested 
 for petty thieving. It will be a terrible blow 
 to his poor mother. Oh, why is it that men 
 like Mr. Hardy cannot be made to see the im- 
 portance of work in the Sunday-school ! With 
 his knowledge of chemistry and geology, he 
 could have reached that class of boys and in- 
 vited them to his home, up into his laboratory, 
 and exercised an influence over them they would 
 never outgrow. Oh! It's a strange thing to 
 me that men of such possibilities do not realize 
 their power!" 
 
 The superintendent passed along shaking his 
 head sorrowfully, and Mr. Hardy, who seemed 
 guided by some power he could not resist and 
 compelled to listen whether he liked it or not, 
 next found himself looking into one of the rail- 
 road shop tenements, where the man Scoville 
 was lying, awaiting amputation of both feet 
 after the terrible accident. Scoville's wife lay 
 upon a ragged lounge, while Mrs. Hardy's cook
 
 32 . Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 kneeled by her side and in her native Swedish 
 tongue tried to comfort the poor woman. So 
 it was true that these two were sisters. The 
 man was still conscious and suffering unspeak- 
 ably. The railroad surgeon had been sent for, 
 but had not arrived. Three or four men and 
 their wives had come in to do what they could. 
 Mr. Burns, the foreman, was among them. One 
 of the men spoke in a whisper to him : 
 
 "Have you been to see Mr. Hardy?" 
 
 "Yes, but he was at church. I left word 
 about the accident." 
 
 "At church! So even the devil sometimes 
 goes to church. What for, I wonder? Will he 
 be here, think?" 
 
 "Don't know!" replied Mr. Burns curtly. 
 
 "Do you mind when he (pointing to Scoville) 
 saved Mr. Hardy's life ?" 
 
 "Remember it well enough. Was standing 
 close by." 
 
 "What'll be done with the children when 
 Scoville goes, eh?" 
 
 "Don't know." 
 
 Just then the surgeon came in and prepara-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 33 
 
 tions were rapidly made for the operation. And 
 the last that Mr. Hardy heard was the shriek 
 of the poor wife as she struggled to her feet and 
 fell in a fit across the floor where two of the 
 youngest children clung terrified to her dress 
 and the father cried out, tears of agony and de- 
 spair running down his face, "My God, what a 
 hell this world is !" 
 
 The next scene was a room where every 
 thing appeared confused at first, but finally 
 grew more distinct and terrible in its signifi- 
 cance. And the first person Mr. Hardy recog- 
 nized was his own oldest boy, George, in com- 
 pany with a group of young men engaged in 
 what ! He rubbed his eyes and stared painfully. 
 Yes, they were gambling. So here was where 
 George spent all his money, and Bessie's, too. 
 Xothing that the miserable father had seen so 
 far cut him to the quick quite so sharply as this. 
 He had prided himself on his own freedom 
 from vices, and had an honest horror of them. 
 For Mr. Hardy is not a monster of iniquity, 
 only an intensely selfish man. Gambling,
 
 34 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 drinking, impurity, all the physical vices, were 
 to Mr. Hardy the lowest degradation. 
 
 The thought that his own son had fallen into 
 this pit was terrible to him- But he was com- 
 pelled to look and listen. All the young men 
 were smoking, and beer and wine stood on a 
 buffet at one side of the room and were plenti- 
 fully partaken of. 
 
 "I say, George," said a very flashily dressed 
 youth who was smoking that invention of the 
 devil, a cigarette, "your old man would rub hi? 
 eyes to see you here, eh ?" 
 
 "Well, I should remark he would," replied 
 George, as he shuffled the cards and then helped 
 himself to a drink. 
 
 "I say, George/' said the first speaker, "your 
 sister Bess is getting to be a beauty. Introduce 
 me, will you?" 
 
 "No, I won't," said George, shortly. He had 
 been losing all the evening and he felt nervous 
 and irritable. 
 
 "Ah! We are too bad, eh?" 
 
 George made some fierce reply, and the other 
 fellow struck him. Instantly George sprang to
 
 "Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 35 
 
 his feet and a fight took place. Mr. Hardy 
 could not bear it any longer. He thought he 
 broke away from the scene by the exercise of a 
 great determination and next found himself 
 looking into his own home. 
 
 It seemed to him it was an evening when he 
 and all the children had gone out and Mrs. 
 Hardy sat alone, looking into the fire as she had 
 been looking before he fell asleep. She was 
 thinking, and her thoughts were like burning 
 coals as they fell into Mr. Hardy's heart and 
 scorched him, as not any scene, not even the 
 last, had done. 
 
 "My husband!" Mrs. Hardy was saying to 
 herself, "how long is it since he gave me a 
 caress, kissed me when he went to his work, or 
 laid his hand lovingly on my cheek as he used 
 to do ! How brave, and handsome, and good I 
 used to think him in the old Vermont days 
 when we were struggling for our little home, 
 and his best thought was of the home and of 
 the wife! But the years have changed him, oh, 
 yes ! they have changed him bitterly. I wonder 
 if he realizes r..y hunger for his affection! Of
 
 36 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 what value to me are all these baubles wealth 
 brings compared with a loving look, a tender 
 smile, an affectionate caress! Robert! Rob- 
 ert ! Come back to me ! For I am so lonely, so 
 lonely! Would to God all our riches might be 
 taken from us and all our position in society 
 might be lost to us! For I am fast losing my 
 love for him who is my husband. Great, and 
 long suffering, and forgiving God, help me! I 
 feel wicked sometimes. I cannot bear this kin .1 
 of a life. It is killing me! It is robbing me 
 of all that life contains that is sweet and tru^. 
 Father of mercies, for Jesus's sake, do not 
 let me grow insane or without belief ! Robe? t, 
 Robert, my lover, my husband; I will, I will 
 love you!" And Mrs. Hardy fell on her kne^s 
 by the side of the couch and buried her face in 
 its cushions and sobbed and prayed. 
 
 Suddenly the whole scene changed, and Mr. 
 Hardy, who had stretched out his arms to com- 
 fort his wife as in the old days when love was 
 young, felt himself carried by an irresistible 
 power up away from the earth, past the stars 
 and planets, and suns, and satellites, that
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. *?. 
 
 blazed like gems in space; on, on, for what 
 seemed to him like ages of time, until even the 
 thought of time grew indistinct, on and up and 
 into the presence of the most mighty Face he 
 had ever looked into. It was the Face of Etern- 
 ity. On its brow was written in words of blaz- 
 ing light the one word, "Now." And as he 
 looked into that calm, awful Face and read that 
 awful word, Mr. Hardy felt his soul crumble 
 within him, when the Face spoke and it was thtf 
 speech of a thousand oceans heaved by a milli r rt 
 tempests, yet through the terror of it ran 
 thread of music, a still, sweet sound like evw- 
 lasting love, as if angels sang somewhere a 'ti!- 
 vine accompaniment. And the Face said: 
 
 "Child of Humanity, you have neglected and 
 despised me for fifty years. You have lived for 
 yourself. You have been careless and thought- 
 less of the world's great needs. The time of 
 your redemption is short. It has been granted 
 you by Him who rules the world that you 
 should have but seven more days to live upon 
 the earth seven days to help redeem your soul 
 from everlasting shame and death. Mortal, see
 
 38 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 to it that thou usest the precious time like those 
 who toil for jewels in the mine beneath the sea. 
 I who speak unto thee am Eternity." 
 
 Then Robert Hardy thought he fell upon his 
 face before that awful Face and begged in bit- 
 terest terror for a longer lease of life. 
 
 "Seven days ! Why it will be but seven swift 
 seconds to redeem my past ! Seven days ! It will 
 be a nothing in the marking of time ! mighty- 
 power, grant me longer! Seven weeks! Seven 
 years ! And I will live for thee as never mortal 
 yet lived!" 
 
 And Eobert Hardy sobbed and held his arms 
 beseechingly up toward that most resplendent 
 Face. And as he thus stretched out his arms, 
 the Face bent down towards his, and he thought 
 a smile of pity gleamed upon it, and he hoped 
 that more time would be granted him; and 
 then, as it came nearer, he suddenly awoke, and 
 there was his own wife bending over him, and 
 a tear from her face fell upon his own as she 
 said, "Robert! Robert!" 
 
 Mr. Hardy sat up confused and trembling. 
 Then he clasped his wife to him and kissed her
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 39 
 
 as he used to do. And then to her great amaze- 
 ment he related to her in a low tone the dream 
 he had just had. Mrs. Hardy listened in the 
 most undisguised astonishment. But what fol- 
 lowed filled her heart with fear. 
 
 "Mary," said her husband with the utmost 
 solemnity, "I cannot regard this as a dream, 
 alone. I have awakened with the firm convic- 
 tion that I have only seven days left to live. 1 
 feel that God has spoken to me. And I have 
 only seven days more to do my work in this 
 world." 
 
 "0 Robert ! It was only a dream." 
 
 "No, it was more, Mary. You know I am not 
 imaginative or superstitious in the least. You 
 know I never dream. And this was something 
 else. I shall die out of this world a week from 
 to-night. Are the children here? Call them in. v 
 
 Mr. Hardy spoke in a tone of such calm con- 
 viction that Mrs. Hardy was filled with wonder 
 and fear. She went to the curtain, and as we 
 have already recorded she called the children 
 into the other room. 
 
 Mr. Hardy gazed upon his children with a
 
 40 JRobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 look they had not seen upon his face for years. 
 Briefly but calmly he related his experience, 
 omitting the details of the vision and all men- 
 tion of the scene where George had appeared, 
 and then declared with a solemnity and impres- 
 eiveness that could not be resisted, 
 
 "My dear children, I have not lived as 1 
 should. I have not been to you the father I 
 ought to have been. I have lived a very selfish, 
 useless life. 1 have only seven more days to 
 live. God has spoken to me. I am " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, and sobbing as only 
 a strong man can, he drew his wife towards 
 him and caressed her, while Bess crept up and 
 put her arms about her father's neck. 
 
 The terrible suspicion shot into Mrs. Hardy's 
 mind that her husband was insane. The chil- 
 dren were terrified. Only Alice seemed to catch 
 the reflection of her mother's thought. At the 
 same time Mr. Hardy seemed to feel the sus- 
 picion held by them. 
 
 "No," he said, as if in answer to a spoken 
 charge, "I am not insane. I never was more 
 calm. I am in possession of all my faculties.
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 4-i 
 
 But I have looked into the Face of Eternity 
 this night and I know, I know, that in seven 
 days God will require my soul. Mary," he 
 turned to his wife with the most beseeching cry, 
 "Mar} r , do you believe me?" 
 
 She looked into her husband's face and saw 
 there the old look. Eeason, the noblest of all 
 things, shone out of that noble face now lighted 
 up with the old love, and standing on the brink 
 of the other world. And Mrs. Hardy looking 
 her husband in the face replied, 
 
 "Yes, Robert, I believe you. You may foe 
 mistaken in this impression about the time left 
 you to live, but you are not insane." 
 
 "0 God, I thank Thee for that!" cried Mr. 
 Hardy. Often during the most remarkable 
 week he ever lived, Mr. Hardy reposed in that 
 implicit belief of his wife in his sanity. 
 
 There was a pause. Then Mr. Hardy asked 
 George to bring the Bible. He then read from 
 John's gospel that matchless prayer of Christ 
 in the Seventeenth Chapter. And then, kneel- 
 ing down, he prayed as he had never prayed 
 before, that in the week allotted hirn to live he
 
 42 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 might know how to bless the world and serve 
 his Master best. And when he rose and looked 
 about upon his wife and children, it was with 
 the look of one who has been into the very 
 presence chamber of the only living God. At 
 the same moment, so fast had the time gone in 
 the excitement, the clock upon the mantel 
 struck the hour of midnight. And the first of 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days had begun.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY. 
 
 When Mr. Hardy woke on the morning of the 
 first of the seven days left him to live, he was 
 on the point of getting ready for his day's busi- 
 ness as usual, when the memory of his dream 
 flashed upon him and he was appalled to de- 
 cide what he should do first. Breakfast was 
 generally a hurried and silent meal with him. 
 The children generally came straggling down at 
 irregular intervals, and it was very rare that 
 the family all sat down together. This morn- 
 ing Mr. Hardy waited until all had appeared, 
 and while they were eating he held a family 
 council. His wife was evidently in great ex- 
 citement and anxiety, and yet the love and 
 tenderness she felt coming back to her from 
 hei husband gave her face a look of beauty that 
 had beea a stranger to it for years. The chil- 
 dren were affected by their father's remarkable 
 change in various ways. George was sullen and 
 silent. Will looked thoughtful and troubled.
 
 44 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Alice, a girl of very strong and decided opinions 
 and character, greeted her father with a kiss 
 and seemed to understand the new relations he 
 now sustained to them all. Clara appeared ter- 
 rified as if death had already come into the 
 house, and several times she broke down crying 
 at the table and finally went away into the sit- 
 ting-room. Bess sat next to her father as she 
 always did, and was the most cheerful of all, 
 taking a very calm and philosophical view of 
 the situation, so that Mr. Hardy smiled once or 
 twice as she gave her advice. Mr. Hardy was 
 pale but calm. The impression of the night be- 
 fore was evidently deepening with him. It 
 would have been absurd to call him insane. 
 His wife was obliged to confess to herself that 
 he never appeared more sound in judgment and 
 calm in speech. He was naturally a man of 
 very strong will. His passions, as we have al- 
 ready seen, were under control. Never in all his 
 life had he felt so self-contained, so free from 
 nervousness, so capable of sustained effort. 
 But the one great thought that filled his mind 
 was the thought of the shortness of the time.
 
 Robert Hardy's 
 
 ""Jk 
 
 "Almighty God," was his prayer, "sho\ 
 how to use these seven days in the wisest and 
 best manner." 
 
 "Robert, what will you do to-day?" asked 
 Mrs. Hardy. 
 
 "I have been thinking, dear, and I believe my 
 first duty is to God. We have not had morning 
 worship together for a long time. After we 
 have knelt as a family in prayer to Him, I be- 
 lieve He will give me wisdom to know what I 
 ought to do." 
 
 "I think father ought to stay at home with 
 us all the time," said Bess. 
 
 "Robert," said Mrs. Hardy, who could not 
 comprehend the full meaning of the situation 
 much better than little Bess, "will you give up 
 your business? How can you attend to it? 
 Will you have the strength and the patience 
 while laboring under this impression ?" 
 
 "I have already thought over that. Yes, I 
 believe I ought to go right on. I don't see what 
 would be gained by severing my connection 
 with the company." 
 
 "Will you tell the company you have only "
 
 46 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy could not say the words. They 
 choked her. 
 
 "What would you do, Alice?" asked her 
 father, turning to his oldest daughter who, al- 
 though a cripple, had more than once revealed 
 to the family great powers of judgment and 
 decision. 
 
 "I would not say anything to the company 
 about it," replied Alice, finally. 
 
 "That is the way I feel," said Mr. Hardy 
 with a nod of approval. "They would not un- 
 derstand it. My successor in the office will be 
 young Wellman, in all probability, and he is 
 perfectly competent to carry on the work. I 
 feel as if this matter was one that belonged to 
 tht family. I shall, of course, arrange my busi- 
 ness affairs with reference to the situation, and 
 George can give me half a day for the details. 
 But you know, Mary, I have always kept my 
 business in such shape that in any case of acci- 
 dent or sudden death matters could easily bo 
 arranged. Thank God, I shall not have to take 
 time for those matters that I ought to give to 
 more serious and important duties/*
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 47 
 
 It was true that Mr. Hardy, always a man of 
 very methodical habits in a business way, had 
 always arranged his affairs with reference to 
 accidental removal. His business as manager 
 necessitated his being on the road a great deal, 
 and he realized, as many railroad men do real- 
 ize, the liability of sudden death. 
 
 But such a thought had not had any influence 
 on his actions to make him less selfish. He 
 had thought, as all men do, that he should prob- 
 ably live right along after all; that death might 
 take the engineer or conductor or fireman, but 
 would pass him by. 
 
 Suddenly Will spoke up : 
 
 "Father, do you want George and me to leave 
 college ?" 
 
 "Certainly not, my boy. What would be 
 gained by that? I want you to keep right on 
 just as if I were going to live fifty years more." 
 
 George did not say anything. He looked at 
 his father as if he doubted his sanity. 
 
 His father noticed the look and a terrible 
 wave of anguish swept over him as he recalled
 
 48 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 the part of his vision in which he had seen hia 
 oldest son in the gambling-room. 
 
 Again the prayer he had been silently praying 
 all the morning went up out of his heart, "Al- 
 mighty God, show me how to use the seven days 
 most wisely." 
 
 "Father," said Bess suddenly, "what will you 
 do about Jim and Clara? Did you know they 
 were engaged?" 
 
 "Bess!" said Clara passionately. Then she 
 stopped suddenly, and seeing her father's brow 
 grow dark, she cowered, afraid of what was 
 coming. But Mr. Hardy looked at the world 
 differently this morning. Twenty-four hours 
 before he would have treated Bessie's remark 
 as he usually treated her surprising revelations 
 of the secrets of the family. He would have 
 laughed at it a little, and sternly commanded 
 Clara to break the engagement, if there was 
 one, at once. For James Caxton was not at 
 all the sort of man Mr. Hardy wanted to have 
 come into the family. He was poor to begin 
 with. And more than all, his father had been 
 the means of defeating Mr. Hardy in a munio-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 49 
 
 ipal election where a place of influence and 
 honor was in dispute. Mr. Hardy had never 
 forgotten nor forgiven it. When he began to 
 see his children intimate with the Caxtons, he 
 tried to forbid their going to the house, with 
 the result already described. 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at Clara and said very 
 tenderly : 
 
 "Clara, we must have a good talk about this. 
 You know your father loves you and wants you to 
 be happy and " Mr. Hardy stopped in his emo- 
 tion, and Clara burst into tears and left the table. 
 
 "Come," cried Mr. Hardy after a moment, 
 during which no one seemed inclined to speak; 
 "let us ask God to give us all wisdom at this time." 
 
 George made a motion as if to go out. "My 
 son,'"' called Mr. Hardy after him gently, "won't 
 you stay with the rest of us ?" 
 
 George sat down with a shamefaced look, 
 Alice and Clara came back, and Mr. Hardy read 
 that famous Sixth Chapter of Ephesians, be- 
 ginning, "Children, obey your parents in the 
 Lord." Then in a brief but earnest prayer he 
 asked God's help and blessing on all the day,
 
 50 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and then rose to face it, the great burden of 
 his responsibility beginning to rest upon him 
 for the first time. He sat down for a moment 
 by his wife and kissed her, putting his arms 
 about her, while Bess climbed up on the side 
 of the couch and the boys stood irresolute and 
 wondering. Any outward mark of affection was 
 so unusual on the part of their father that they 
 felt awkward in the presence of it. Mrs. Hardy 
 was almost overcome. 
 
 "0 Robert, I cannot bear it! Surely it was 
 nothing more than a dream. It couldn't have 
 been anything more. You are not going to be 
 called away from us so soon." 
 
 "Mary, I would God that I had seven years 
 to atone for my neglect and selfishness towards 
 you alone. But I am certain that God has 
 granted me but seven days. I must act. God 
 help me ! Boys, you will be late. We will all be 
 at home this evening. Alice, care for your 
 mother and cheer her up. You are a good girl 
 and" 
 
 Again Mr. Hardy broke down as he thought 
 of the many years he had practically ignored
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 51 
 
 this brave, strong, uncomplaining nature in his 
 own house, and remorse tore him fiercely as he 
 recalled that he had practically discouraged aJl 
 the poor girl's ambitious efforts to make her 
 way as an artist, not on account of the expense 
 for Mr. Hardy was not a niggard in that re- 
 spect but because he had a false idea con- 
 cerning the profession. He looked at the girl 
 now as she limped across the floor to her 
 mother, her pale, intellectual face brightened 
 by her love and her eyes shining with tears 
 at her father's unusual praise. "0 God," was 
 the inner cry of Mr. Hardy's heart, "what have 
 I not neglected when I had it in my power to 
 create so much happiness!" The thought al- 
 most unnerved him. And for a moment he felt 
 like sitting down to do nothing. But only for 
 a moment. He rose briskly, went out into the 
 hall and put on his overcoat and coming back 
 a moment, said, "I am going down to see poor 
 Scoville the first thing. I shall be so busy you 
 'must not look for me at lunch. But 1 will be 
 back to six o'clock dinner. Good bye!" He 
 kissed his wife tenderly and she clung to him
 
 52 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 sobbing. Then he kissed his daughters, a thing 
 he had not done since they were babies, and 
 shook hands with the boys and marched out 
 like one going to execution, something bright 
 glistening in his own eyes. 
 
 Ah! Ye fathers and husbands, you who are 
 toiling for the dear ones at home, how many 
 of you have grown so unaccustomed to the ten- 
 der affections of home that your own wife wou] id 
 almost faint and think something was going 'to 
 happen to you if you kissed her good-bye when 
 you went away to your work in the morning! 
 How do you know that she who has been your 
 faithful friend and lover all these years, and 
 nursed you through peevish sickness and done 
 a thousand things every day for you without so 
 much as a word of thanks or praise on your 
 part, how do you know she does not care for 
 these demonstrations of affection? And if she 
 does not, how does it happen except through 
 neglect? Call it not a little thing. It is of 
 such little things that Heaven is made, and it 
 is of the home where such little things are 
 found that it can truly be said, "Love is master.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 53 
 
 and the evil one cannot find an entrance to blot 
 with hi:; foul tread the sweetest thing on earth." 
 
 Mr. Hardy hurried down towards the tene- 
 ment where Ward Scoville lived, revolving in 
 his mind a* he went along, plans for his future 
 happiness and comfort. 
 
 "I'll deed him the place where he lives and 
 arrange it in some way -so that he won't have to- 
 go to the hospital or come on the county when 
 his poor wife is gone. It will be the best I can 
 do for him. Poor fellow ! What a shame I did 
 not come down last night! And his wife a 
 hopeless invalid and the oldest child only four 
 years old, Mary said!" 
 
 He was surprised as he drew near the house 
 to see a group of men standing there outside 
 and talking together earnestly. As Mr. Hardy 
 came up they stood aside to let him pass, but 
 were barely civil. 
 
 "Well, Stevens," Mr. Hardy inquired of one 
 of the men, recognizing him as one of the em- 
 ployes in the casting-room, "how is Scoville 
 this morning?" 
 
 "Dead!"
 
 54 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Mr. Hardy reeled as if struck in the breast 
 with a heavy blow. 
 
 "Dead, did you say ?" 
 
 "He died about an hour ago," said one of the 
 other men. "The surgeon was late in getting 
 around, and after the amputation it was ascer- 
 tained that Scoville had received severe internal 
 injuries." 
 
 "Was he conscious?" Mr. Hardy asked the 
 question mechanically, but all the while his 
 mind was in a whirl of remorse. 
 
 "Yes, up to the last moment." 
 
 Mr. Hardy went up to the door and knocked. 
 A woman, one of the neighbors, opened and he 
 went in. The sight stunned him. The dead rrom 
 had been removed to a rear room, but his wife 
 lay upon the very same ragged lounge Mr. Har- 
 dy had seen in his dream. The surgeon was bend- 
 ing over her. The room was full of neighbors. 
 
 The surgeon suddenly arose and turning 
 about, spoke in a quiet but decided tone: 
 
 "Now, then, good people, just go home, witf 
 you, for a while? And suppose some of you 
 take these children along with you. You can't
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 55 
 
 do anything more now and your presence dis- 
 turbs the woman! Ah, Mr. Hardy!" he ex- 
 claimed, seeing the manager, "you here? This 
 is a sad business. Come, now, ladies, I must 
 ask you to retire." 
 
 Everybody went out except the surgeon, the 
 poor woman's sister, and Mr. Hardy. He drew 
 the surgeon over to the window and inquired 
 concerning the particulars. Mr. Hardy had re- 
 ceived a shock at the very first and he trembled 
 violently. 
 
 "Well, you see," explained the surgeon, "Sco- 
 ville was a dead man from the minute of the 
 accident. Nothing could have saved him. 
 When the accident happened I was down to 
 Bayville attending the men who were injured 
 in the wreck last Saturday. I telegraphed that 
 I would come at once. But there was a delay 
 on the road, and I did not get here until three 
 o'clock in the morning. Meanwhile everything 
 had been done that was possible. But nothing 
 could save the poor fellow. This shock will kill 
 his wife. I doubt if she lives through the day.'* 
 
 "What will be done with the children?" Mr.
 
 56 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Hardy asked the question mechanically, again 
 feeling the need of time to think out what was 
 best to be done. The surgeon shrugged his 
 shoulders. He was accustomed to scenes of suf- 
 fering and distress continually. 
 
 "Orphans' Home, I suppose," he replied la- 
 conically. A movement and a moan from the 
 woman called him to her side and Mr. Hardy 
 was left alone. He thought a moment, then 
 stepped over to the surgeon and asked him if 
 he could go into the other room and see the 
 dead man. The surgeon nodded a surprised as- 
 sent, and Mr. Hardy stepped into the rear room 
 and closed the door. He drew back the sheet 
 from the face of the man and looked down upon 
 it. Nothing in all his experience had ever 
 moved him so deeply. The features of the dead 
 man were fixed, it seemed to him, in an expres- 
 sion of despair. Mr. Hardy gazed steadily upon 
 it for half a minute, then replacing the sheet 
 he kneeled down by the side of the rude bed 
 and prayed God for mercy. "0 Lord," he 
 groaned in his remorse, "lay not the death of 
 this man to my charge!" And yet, even as he
 
 liobert Hardy's Seven Days. 57 
 
 prayed, he could not drive back the thought 
 which chased across the prayer, "I am this 
 man's murderer. I issued the order compelling 
 the Sunday work. I refused a week ago to in- 
 spect the retorts which were declared unsafe, 
 on the ground that it was not my business. 1 
 compelled this man to work under the fear of 
 losing his place if he refused to work. I com- 
 pelled him to work on the one day in which God 
 has commanded all men to rest. I, a Christian 
 by profession, a member of the church, a man 
 of means, I put this man in deadly peril upon 
 a Sunday in order that more money might be 
 made and more human selfishness might be 
 gratified. I did it. And this man once saved 
 my life. I am his murderer, and no murderer 
 shall inherit the kingdom of God." 
 
 So the wretched man prayed there by the 
 side of that cold body, and yet the world to-day 
 goes on with men in high places who have it in 
 their power to change the conditions that exact 
 Sunday labor from thousands of weary men 
 and drive the commerce of the world across the 
 continent at the cost of that priceless thing, the
 
 58 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 eoul of man, in order that the owners of rail- 
 road stock and the men who get their salaried 
 living from it may have more money. What! 
 Is it not true that every Sunday in this land of 
 Christian homes and hearts many and many a 
 well-fed, sleek, self-satisfied, well-dressed man. 
 with a high salary and well-established social 
 position, with a luxurious home and money in 
 the bank, goes to church and sits down in a 
 softly-cushioned pew to listen to the preaching 
 of the gospel, while within hearing distance of 
 the services an express train or a freight thun- 
 ders by upon the road which declares the divi- 
 dends that make that man's wealth possible, 
 and on those trains are groups of coal-begrim- 
 ed human beings, who never go inside a church, 
 who never speak the name of God or Christ ex- 
 cept in an oath, who lead lives that are as desti- 
 tute of spiritual nourishment as a desert of 
 sand and rocks, and who are compelled to labor 
 contrary to God's everlasting law of rest, in 
 order that man may have more to feed his body 
 and indulge his passions! Do not tell us it is 
 necessary labor. It is labor for the making of
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 59 
 
 more money. It does not need to be done. The 
 community could dispense with it. And in the 
 sight of God it is wicked use of human flesh 
 and blood and souls. And the starved spiritual 
 natures of these men will come up at the Judg- 
 ment Day before the men who had it in their 
 power to say, "Not a wheel shall turn on these 
 tracks Sunday, even if we don't make a little 
 more money." Money or souls ! Which is worth 
 more in the thought of the railroad corpora- 
 tions? Let the facts make answer. 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not know just how long he 
 kneeled there in that bare room. At last he 
 arose weariedly and came out. But his prayer 
 had not refreshed him. The surgeon glanced at 
 him inquisitively, but asked no questions. The 
 sick woman was in a state of semi-consciousness. 
 Mr. Hardy's cook, her sister, sat listlessly and 
 worn out by the side of the lounge. The sur- 
 geon rapidly gave directions for the use of some 
 medicine and prepared to go. Some of the 
 neighbors called and the surgeon let two of the 
 women come in. Just as the two men were go- 
 ing out together, Mr. Hardy still absorbed in
 
 60 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 his great desire to do something of importance 
 for the mother and her children, his minister, 
 Mr. Jones, appeared. 
 
 He looked surprised at seeing Mr. Hardy, in- 
 quired the news of the doctor, and at once 
 asked if he could see the poor widow. The 
 doctor thought it would do no harm. Mr. Jones 
 whispered to Mr. Hardy, 
 
 "She was a faithful member of our church, 
 you know." 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not know it, to his shame he 
 confessed. This sister of his in Christ had been 
 a member of the same church and he had not 
 even known it. If she had happened to sit on 
 the same side of the building where he sat, he 
 would probably have wondered who that plain- 
 looking person was, dressed so poorly. But she 
 had always sat back on the other side, and had 
 been one of a few poor women who had been 
 attracted into the church and been comforted 
 by Mr. Jones's simple piety and prayers. 
 
 The minister kneeled down and said a gentle 
 word to the woman. Then as if in reply to a 
 low- voiced request he began a prayer of re-
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 61 
 
 markable beauty and comfort. Mr. Hardy won- 
 dered, as he listened, that he could ever have 
 thought this man diill in the pulpit. He sat 
 down and sobbed as the prayer went on and he 
 took to himself the consolation of that heavenly 
 petition. When Mr. Jones rose, Mr. Hardy still 
 sat with his hands over his face. The surgeon 
 was called out by some one. Then the minister, 
 after making arrangements with the woman 
 who had come in for the funeral of Scoville, 
 started to go out, when Mr. Hardy rose and 
 they went away together. 
 
 "Mr. Jones," said Mr. Hardy as they walked 
 along, "I have an explanation and a confession 
 to make. I haven't time to make it now, but T 
 want to say that I have met God face to face 
 within the past twenty-four hours, and I am 
 conscious for the first time in years of the in- 
 tensely selfish life I have lived. I need your 
 prayer and help. And I want to serve the 
 church and do my duty there as I have never 
 before done it. I have not supported your work 
 as I should. I want you to think of me this 
 week as ready to help in any thing in my power.
 
 62 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Will you accept my apology for my contempt 
 of your request a week ago? I will come into 
 the meeting Thursday night and help in any 
 way possible." 
 
 Mr. Jones's eyes filled with tears. He grasp- 
 ed Mr. Hardy's hand and said simply, 
 
 "Brother, God bless you. I&t me be of ser- 
 vice to you in any way I can." 
 
 Mr. Hardy felt a little better for the partial 
 confession, and parted with his minister at the 
 next corner, going down to his office.
 
 .Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 63 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY CONTINUED. 
 
 It was now ten o'clock and the day seemed 
 to him cruelly brief for the work he had to do. 
 He entered the office and almost the first thing 
 he saw on his desk was the following letter ad- 
 dressed to him, but written in a disguised hand : 
 
 Mr. Hardy: 
 
 Us in the casting-room don't need no looking 
 after but maybe the next pot of hot iron that 
 explodes will be next the offis if you thinks we 
 have bodies but no sols some morning you will 
 wake up beleving another thing. Better look 
 to house and employ spesul patrol; if you do 
 we will blak his face for him. 
 
 There was no signature to this threatening 
 scrawl which was purposely misspelled and un- 
 grammatically composed. Mr. Hardy had re- 
 ceived threats before and paid little attention 
 to them. He prided himself on his steady 
 nerves and his contempt of all such methods 
 used to scare him. Only a coward, he reasoned, 
 would ever write an anonymous letter of such
 
 64 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 a character. Still, this morning he felt dis- 
 turbed. His peculiar circumstances made the 
 whole situation take on a more vivid coloring. 
 Besides all that, he could not escape the con- 
 viction that he was in a certain sense responsi- 
 ble for the accident in the casting-room. It 
 was not his particular business to inspect ma- 
 chinery. But his attention had been called to 
 it, and he felt now as if he had been criminally 
 careless in not making the inspection in the 
 absence of the regular officer. An investigation 
 of the accident would free Mr. Hardy from legal 
 responsibility. But in the sight of God he felt 
 that he was morally guilty. At this moment 
 Mr. Burns came in. He looked sullen and spoke 
 in a low tone. 
 
 "Only half the men are back this morning, 
 sir. Scoville's death and the injuries of the 
 others have had a bad effect on the men." 
 
 Mr. Hardy crumpled the letter nervously in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Mr. Burns, I would like to apologize to you 
 for my neglect of the injured men. Who are 
 they and how badly are they hurt?"
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 65 
 
 Burns looked surprised but made answer, de- 
 scribing briefly the accidents. Mr. Hardy lis- 
 tened intently with bowed head. At last he 
 looked up and said abruptly: 
 
 "Come into the casting-room." 
 
 They went out of the office, passed through 
 the repairing shops and entered the foundry 
 department. Even on that bright winter morn- 
 ing, with the air outside so clear and cool, the 
 atmosphere in this place was murky and close. 
 The forges in the blacksmith room at the far- 
 ther end glowed through the smoke and dust 
 like smouldering piles of rubbish dumped here 
 and there by chance upon some desolate moor 
 and stirred by ill-omened demons of the nether 
 world. Mr. Hardy shuddered as he thought of 
 standing in such an atmosphere all day to work 
 at severe muscular toil. He recalled with a 
 sharp vividness a request made only two months 
 before for dust fans which had proved success- 
 ful in other shops, and which would remove a 
 large part of the heavy, coal-laden air, supply- 
 ing fresh air in its place. The company had 
 refused the request, and had even said through
 
 C6 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 one of its officers that when the men wore our, 
 the company could easily get more. Mr. Hardy 
 and the foreman paused at the entrance to the 
 casting-room where the men had been injured 
 the day before. A few men were working sul- 
 lenly. Mr. Hardy asked the foreman to call the 
 men together near the other end of the room; 
 ho wanted to say something to them. He walk- 
 ed over there while the foreman spoke to the 
 men. They dropped their tools and came over 
 to where Mr. Hardy was standing. They were 
 mostly Scandinavians and Germans, with a 
 sprinkling of Irish and Americans. Mr. Hardy 
 looked at them thoughtfully. They were a 
 hard-looking crowd. Then he said very slowly 
 and distinctly: 
 
 "You may quit work until after Scoville's 
 funeral. Themachinery here needs overhauling." 
 
 The men stood impassive for a moment. 
 Finally a big Dane stepped up and said: 
 
 "We be no minded to quit work these times. 
 We no can afford it. Give us work in some 
 other place." 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at him and replied quietly :
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 67 
 
 "The wages will go on just the same while 
 yon are out." 
 
 There was a perceptible stir among the men. 
 They looked confused and incredulous. Mr. 
 Hardy still looked at them thoughtfully. Fi- 
 nally the big Dane stepped forward again and 
 said, speaking more respectfully than he did at 
 first: 
 
 "Mr. Hardy, we be thinking maybe you would 
 like to help towards him the family of the dead 
 and others as be hurt. I been pointed to take 
 up purse for poor fellows injured. We all take 
 hand in't. My brother be one lose his two eyes/' 
 
 A tear actually rolled down the grimy cheek 
 of the big fellow and dropped into the coal dust 
 at his feet. Mr. Hardy realized that he was 
 looking at a brother man. He choked down a 
 sob, and putting his hand in his pocket pulled 
 out all the change he had and poured it into 
 the Dane's hand. Then seeing that it was only 
 four or five dollars, he pulled out his purse and 
 emptied that of its bills, while Burns, the fore- 
 man, and all the men looked on in stupefied 
 wonder.
 
 68 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "No, no thanks! I'll do something more." 
 Mr. Hardy walked away feeling as if the 
 ground was heaving under him. What was all 
 his money compared with that life that had 
 been sacrificed in that gas-poisoned sepulcher! 
 He could not banish from his mind the picture 
 of that face as it looked to him when he drew 
 back the sheet and looked at it. He hurried 
 back to the office through the yard and sat 
 down at the well-worn desk. The mail had 
 come in and half a dozen letters lay there. He 
 looked at them and shuddered. What did it all 
 amount to, this grind of business, when the 
 heart-ache of the world called for so much sym- 
 pathy! Then over him came the sense of his 
 obligations to his family, Clara's need of a 
 father's help, George going to the bad, Alice 
 in need of sympathy, his wife weeping even now 
 at home, the church and Sunday-school where 
 he had been of such little use, the family of Sco- 
 ville to be provided for, the other injured men 
 to be visited, improvements for the welfare of 
 the men in the shops to be looked after, and the 
 routine of his business; all these things crowd-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 69 
 
 ed in upon him, and still he saw the Face and 
 heard the Voice of Eternity, "Seven days more 
 to live!" 
 
 He sank into a revery for a moment. He 
 was roused by the sounding of the noon whistle. 
 What, noon already ? So swiftly had the time 
 gone. He turned to his desk bewildered and 
 picked up his letters, gianccd over them hur- 
 riedly, and then gave directions for the an- 
 swers of some of them to his impatient clerk 
 who had been wondering at his employers 
 strange behavior this morning. Among the 
 letters was one which made his cheek burn with 
 self-reproach. It was an invitation to a club 
 dinner to be given that evening in honor of 
 some visiting railroad president. 
 
 It was just such an occasion as he had en- 
 joyed very many times before, and the recollec- 
 tion brought to mind the number of times he 
 had gone away from his own home and left his 
 wife sitting drearily by the fire. How could 
 he have done it! He tossed the gilded invita- 
 tion fiercely into the waste basket and rising, 
 walked his room thinking, thinking. He had
 
 70 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 so much to do and so little time to do it in. He 
 thought thus a moment, then went out and 
 walked rapidly over to the hotel where he was 
 in the habit of getting lunch when he did not 
 go home. He ate a little, hurriedly, and then 
 hastened out. As he was going out upon the 
 sidewalk two young men came in and jostled 
 against him. They were smoking and talking 
 in a loud tone. Mr. Hardy caught the sound of 
 his own name. He looked at the speaker, and 
 it was the face of the young man he had seen 
 in his dream, the one who had insulted George 
 and struck him afterwards. For a moment Mr. 
 Hardy was tempted to confront the youth and 
 inquire into his son's habits. 
 
 "No," he said to himself after a pause, "I 
 will have a good talk with George himself. That 
 will be the best." He hurried back to the office 
 and arranged some necessary work for his clerk, 
 took a walk through the other office, then went 
 to the telephone and called up the superintend- 
 ent of the Sunday-school, who was a book- 
 keeper in a clothing house. He felt an intense 
 desire to arrange for an interview with him ;is
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 71 
 
 soon as possible. Word came back from the 
 house that the superintendent had bven called 
 out. of town by serious illness in his old home 
 and would not be back until Saturday. Mr. 
 Hardy felt a disappointment more keen than 
 the occasion seemed to warrant. He was con- 
 scious that the time was very brief. He had 
 fully made up his mind that so far M in him 
 lay he would redeem his selfish past and make 
 a week such as few men ever made. He was 
 just beginning to realize that circumstances are 
 not always in our control. We are all obliged 
 to wait for time to do some things. We cannot 
 redeem seven years of selfishness with seven 
 days of self-denial. The death of Scoville re- 
 vealed to Mr. Hardy his powerlessness in the 
 face of certain possibilities. He now feared 
 that the superintendent would fail to return in 
 time to let him confess to him his just sorrow 
 for his lack of service in the school. He sat 
 down to his desk and under that impulse wrote 
 a letter that expressed in part how he felt. 
 Then he jotted down the following items to be 
 referred to the proper authorities of the road.
 
 72 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Item 1. The dust in the blacksmith shop 
 and in the brass-polishing rooms is largely un- 
 necessary. The new Englefield revolving roll- 
 ing fans and elevator ought to be introduced in 
 both departments. The cost would be but an 
 item to the road, and would prolong the life 
 and add to the comfort of the employes. Very 
 important. 
 
 Item 2. Organized and intelligent effort 
 should be made by all railroad corporations to 
 lessen Sunday work in shops and on the road. 
 All imperishable freight should be so handled 
 as to call for the services of as few men on 
 Sunday as possible, and excursion and passen- 
 ger trains should be discontinued except in 
 cases of unavoidable necessity. 
 
 Item 3. The inspection of boilers, retorts 
 castings, machinery of all kinds, should be 
 made by thoroughly competent and responsible 
 men who shall answer for all unnecessary acci- 
 dents by swift and severe punishment in case 
 of loss of life and limb. 
 
 Item 4. In case of injury or death to em- 
 ployes, if incurred through the neglect of the
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 73 
 
 company to provide safety, it should provide 
 financial relief for the families thus injured or 
 stricken by death, and so far as possible arrange 
 for their future. 
 
 Item 5. Any well-organized railroad could 
 with profit to its employes have upon its staff of 
 salaried men a corps of chaplains or preachers, 
 whose business it would be to look after the 
 religious interests of the employes. (Under 
 this item Mr. Hardy wrote in footnote : Discuss 
 feasibility of this with Mr. B , influential di- 
 rector.) 
 
 It was now three o'clock. The short winter 
 day was fast drawing to a close. The hum of 
 the great engine in the machine shop was grow- 
 ing very wearisome to the manager. He felt 
 sick of its throbbing tremor and longed to es- 
 cape from it. Ordinarily he would have gone 
 to the club room and had a game of chess with 
 a member, or else he would have gone down and 
 idled away an hour or two before supper at the 
 Art Museum, where he was a constant visitor. 
 That was when he had plenty of time and the 
 business of the office was not pressing. Young
 
 74 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Wellman, however, had succeeded to the clerical 
 details of the shops, and Mr. Hardy's time was 
 generally free after four. He had been op- 
 pressed with the thought of the other injured 
 men. He must go and see them. He could not rest 
 easy till he had personally visited them. He 
 went out and easily ascertained where the men 
 lived. Never before did the contrast between 
 the dull, uninteresting row of shop tenements 
 and his own elegant home rise up so sharply 
 before him. In fact, he had never given it much 
 thought before. Now as he looked forward to 
 the end of the week, and knew that at its close 
 he would be no richer, no better able to enjoy 
 luxuries than the dead man lying in No. 760. 
 he wondered vaguely but passionately how he 
 could make use of what he had heaped together 
 to make the daily lives of some of these poor 
 men happier. He found the man who had lost 
 both eyes sitting up in bed and feeling, in a 
 pathetic manner, of a few blocks of wood which 
 one of the children in the room had brought 
 to him. He was a big, powerful man like his 
 brother, the large-boned Dane, and it seemed a
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 75 
 
 very pitiful thing that he should he lying there 
 like a baby when his muscles were as powerful 
 as ever. The brother was in the room with the 
 injured man and he said to him: 
 
 "Olaf, Mr. Hardy come to see you." 
 
 "Hardy? Hardy?" queried the man in a 
 peevish tone. "What do I know him to be ?" 
 
 "The manager. The one who donate so real- 
 ly much moneys to you." 
 
 "Ah?" with an indescribable accent. "lie 
 make me work on a Sunday. He lose me my 
 two eyes. A bad man, Svord! I will no have 
 anything to do with him." 
 
 And the old descendant of a thousand kings 
 turned his face to the wall, and would not even 
 so much as make a motion towards his visitor. 
 His brother offered a rude apology. Mr. Hardy 
 replied in a low tone, 
 
 "Say nothing about it. I deserve all your 
 brother says. But for a good reason I wish he 
 would say he forgives me. Olaf." 
 
 Mr. Hardy came nearer the bed and spoke 
 very earnestly and as if he had known the man 
 intimately,
 
 76 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "I did you a great wrong to order the work 
 on Sunday, and in not doing my duty concern- 
 ing the inspection of the machinery. I have 
 come to say so, and to ask j r our forgiveness. I 
 may never see you again. Will you say to mo, 
 'Brother, I forgive you' ?" 
 
 There was a moment of absolute passivity on 
 the part of the big fellow, then a very large 
 and brawny hand was extended and the blind 
 man said: 
 
 "Yes, I forgive. We learned that in the old 
 Bible, at Svendorf." 
 
 Mr. Hardy laid his hand in the other, and his 
 lips moved in a prayer of humble thanksgiving. 
 What! Kobert Hardy! Is this that proud 
 man who only the day before was so lifted up 
 with selfishness that he could coldly criticize his 
 own minister for saying that people ought to 
 be more Christ-like ! Are you standing here in 
 this poor man's house which two days ago you 
 would not have deigned to enter, and beseeching 
 him as your brother in the great family of God 
 to forgive you for what you have done and left 
 undone? Yes, you have looked into the Face
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 77 
 
 of Eternity, you realize now what life really 
 means and what souls are really worth. 
 
 He went out, after a few words with the 
 family, and saw all the other injured men. By 
 the time he had finished these visits it was dark, 
 and he eagerly turned home, exhausted with the 
 day's experience, feeling as if he had lived in a 
 new world and at the same time wondering at 
 the rapidity with which the time had fled. 
 
 He sighed almost contentedly to himself as 
 he thought of the evening with his family and 
 how he would enjoy it after the disquiet of the 
 day. His wife was there to greet him, and 
 Alice and Clara and Bess clung about him as 
 he took off his coat and came into the beautiful 
 room where a cheerful fire was blazing. Will 
 came downstairs as his father came in, and in 
 the brief interval before supper was ready, Mr. 
 Hardy related the scenes of the day. They 
 were all shocked to hear of Scoville's death, and 
 Mrs. Hardy at once began to discuss some plans 
 for relieving the family. Bess volunteered to 
 give up half her room to one of the children 
 and Alice quietly outlined a plan which immc-
 
 73 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 diately appeared to her father as business-like 
 and feasible. In the midst of this discussion, 
 supper was announced and they all sat down. 
 
 "Where is George?" asked Mr. Hardy. Or- 
 dinarily he would have gone on with the meal 
 without any reference to the boy, because he 
 was so often absent from the table. To-night 
 he felt an irresistible longing to have all his 
 children with him. 
 
 "He said he was invited out to supper with 
 the Bramleys," said Clara. 
 
 Mr. Hardy received the announcement in 
 silence. He felt the bitterness of such indiffer- 
 ence on the part of his oldest son. "What !" he 
 said to himself, "when he knows I had such a 
 little while left, could he not be at home ?" And 
 then almost immediately flashed into him the 
 self-reproach even stronger than his condem- 
 nation of his boy, "How much have I done for 
 him these last ten 3 r ears to win his love and pro- 
 tect him from evil?" 
 
 After supper Mr. Hardy sat down by his wife, 
 and in the very act he blushed with shame at the 
 thought that he could not recall when he had
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 79 
 
 spent an evening thus. He looked into her face 
 and asked gently, 
 
 "Mary, what do you want me to do ? Shall I 
 read as we used to in the old days ?" 
 
 "No, let us talk together," replied Mrs. Har- 
 d)', bravely driving back her tears. "I cannot 
 realize what it all means. I have been praying 
 all day. Do you still have the impression you 
 had this morning?" 
 
 "Mary, I am if anything even more convinced 
 that God has spoken to me. The impression 
 has been deepening with me all day. When I 
 looked into poor Scoville's face, the terrible 
 nature of my past selfish life almost over- 
 whelmed me. Oh, why have I abused God's 
 goodness to me so awfully ?" 
 
 There was silence a moment. Then Mr. Har- 
 dy grew more calm. He began to discuss what 
 he would do the second day. He related more 
 fully the interview with the men in the shop 
 and his visits to the injured. He drew Clara to 
 him and began to inquire into her troubles in 
 such a tender, loving way, that Clara's proud, 
 passionate, wilful nature broke down, and she
 
 80 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 sobbed out her story to him as she had to her 
 mother the night before. 
 
 Mr. Hardy promised Clara that he would see 
 James the next day. It was true that James 
 Cnxton had only a week before approached Mr. 
 Hardy and told him in very manful fashion of 
 his love for his daughter, but Mr. Hardy had 
 treated it as a child's affair and, in accordance 
 with his usual policy in family matters, had 
 simply told Clara and Bess to discontinue their 
 visits at the old neighbor's. But now that he 
 heard the story from the lips of his own daugh- 
 ter he saw the seriousness of it, and crowding 
 back all his former pride and hatred of the 
 elder Caxton he promised Clara to see James 
 the next day. Clara clung to her father in lov- 
 ing surprise. She was bewildered, as were all the 
 rest, by the strange event that had happened 
 to her father, but she never had so felt his love 
 before, and forgetting for awhile the signifi- 
 cance of his wonderful dream, she felt happy in 
 his presence and in his affection for her. 
 
 The evening had sped on with surprising 
 rapidity while all these matters were being dia-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 81 
 
 cussed, and as it drew near to midnight again, 
 Robert Hardy felt almost happy in the atmos- 
 phere of that home and the thought that he 
 could still for a little while create joy for 
 those who loved him. Suddenly he spoke of his 
 other son: 
 
 "I wish George would come in. Then our fam- 
 ily circle would be complete. But it is bedtime 
 for you, Bess, and all of us, for that matter." 
 
 It was just then that steps were heard on the 
 front porch and voices were heard as if talking 
 in whispers. The bell rang. Mr. Hardy rose to 
 go to the door. His wife clung to him terrified. 
 
 "Oh, don't go, Robert ! I am afraid for you." 
 
 "Why, Mary, it cannot be anything to harm 
 me. Don't be alarmed." 
 
 Nevertheless he was a little startled. The 
 day had been a trying one for him. He went 
 to the door, his wife and the children following 
 him close behind. He threw it wide open, and 
 there, supported by two of his companions, one 
 of them the young man Mr. Hardy had seen in 
 the hotel lobby at noon, was his son George, too 
 drunk to stand alone, and he leered into the
 
 82 Eobert Hardy's Seven Day8. 
 
 faces of his father and mother with a drunkes 
 look that froze their souls with despair, as tlw 
 blaze of the hall lamp fell upon him reeling 
 there. And so the first of Kobert Hardy'* 
 .Seven Days came to an end.
 
 .Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SECOND DAY. 
 
 Mr. Hardy was a man of great will power, 
 but this scene with his drunken son crushed 
 him for a moment and seemed to take the very 
 eoul out of him. Mrs. Hardy at first uttered 
 & wild cry and then ran forward and seizing 
 her eldest boy, almost dragged him into the 
 house, while Mr. Hardy, recovering from his 
 first shock, looked sternly at the companions 
 of the boy and then shut the door. That night 
 was a night of sorrow in that family. The sor- 
 row of death is not to be compared with it. 
 
 But morning came, as it comes alike to the 
 condemned criminal and to the pure-hearted 
 child on a holiday, and after a brief and 
 troubled rest Mr. Hardy awoke to his second 
 day, the memory of the night coming to him 
 at first as an ugly dream, but afterwards as a 
 terrible reality. His boy drunk ! He could not 
 make it seem possible. Yet there in the next
 
 84 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 room ho lay, in a drunken stupor, sleeping off 
 the effects of his debauch of the night before. 
 Mr. Hardy fell on his knees and prayed for 
 mercy, again repeating the words, "Almighty 
 God, help me to use the remaining days in the 
 wisest and best manner." Then calming him- 
 self by a tremendous effort he rose up, and 
 faced the day's work as bravely as any man un- 
 der such circumstances could. 
 
 After a family council in which all of them 
 were drawn nearer together than they ever had 
 been before, on account of their troubles, Mr 
 Hardy outlined the day's work something as 
 follows : 
 
 First he would go and see James Caxton and 
 talk over the affair between him and Clara. 
 Then he would go down to the office and ar- 
 range some necessary details of his business. 
 If possible he would come home to lunch. In 
 the afternoon he would go to poor Scoville's 
 funeral, which had been arranged for two 
 o'clock. Mrs. Hardy announced her intention 
 to go also. Then Mr. Hardy thought he would 
 have a visit with Georie and snend the evening:
 
 UP 
 e v? * 
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven 
 
 at home, arranging matters with reference to 
 his own death. With this program in mind he 
 finally went away, after an affectionate leave- 
 taking with his wife and children. 
 
 George slept heavily until the middle of the 
 forenoon, and then awoke with a raging head- 
 ache. Bess had several times during the morn- 
 ing stolen into the room to see if her brother 
 was awake. When he did finally turn over and 
 open his eyes he saw the young girl standing by 
 the bedside. He groaned as he recalled the 
 night and his mother's look, and Bess said 
 timidly, as she laid her hand on his forehead: 
 
 "George, I'm so sorry for you. Don't you 
 feel well?" 
 
 "I feel as if my head would split open. It 
 aches as if some one was chopping wood inside 
 of it!" 
 
 "What makes you feel so ?" asked Bess inno- 
 cently. "Did you eat too much supper at the 
 Bramleys?" Bess had never seen any one drunk 
 before, and when George was helped to bed 
 the night before by his father and mother she 
 did not understand his condition. She had al-
 
 86 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 ways adored her big brother. It was not 
 strange she had no idea of his habits. 
 
 George looked at his small sister curiously, 
 and then under an impulse he could not ex- 
 plain, he drew her nearer to him and said: 
 
 "Bess, I'm a bad fellow. I was drunk last 
 night. Drunk do you understand ? And I've 
 nearly killed mother." 
 
 Bess was aghast at the confession. She put 
 out her hand again. 
 
 "Oh, no, George!" Then with a swift revul- 
 sion of feeling she drew back and said: "How 
 could you, with father feeling as he does?" 
 
 And little Bess, who was a creature of very- 
 impulsive emotions, sat down, crying, on what 
 she supposed was a cushion, but which was 
 George's tall hat accidentally covered with one 
 end of a comforter which had slipped off the 
 bed. Bess was a very plump little creature, and 
 as she picked herself up and held up the hat. 
 George angrily exclaimed: 
 
 "You're always smashing my things !" 
 
 But the next minute he was sorry for the 
 words. Bess retreated toward the door, quiv-
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 87 
 
 ering under the injustice of the charge. At 
 the door she halted. She had something of 
 Clara's passionate temper, and once in a while 
 she let even her adored brother George feel it, 
 small as she was. 
 
 "George Hardy, if you think more of your 
 old stovepipe hat than you do of your sister, all 
 right ! You'll never get any more of my month's 
 allowance. And if I do smash your things, I 
 don't come home drunk at night and break 
 mother's heart. That's what she's crying about 
 this morning that, and father's queer ways. 
 Oh, dear! I don't want to live. Life is so full 
 of trouble!" 
 
 And little twelve-year-old Bess sobbed in 
 genuine sorrow. George forgot his headache a 
 minute. 
 
 ''Come, Bess, come, and kiss and make up. 
 Honest now, I didn't mean it. I was bad to 
 say what I did. I'll buy a dozen hats and let 
 you sit on them for fun. Don't go away angry. 
 I'm so miserable!" 
 
 He lay down and groaned and Bess went to 
 him immediately, all her anger vanished.
 
 88 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "Oh ! let me get you something to drive away 
 your headache. And I'll bring you up some- 
 thing nice to eat. Mother had Norah save 
 something for you didn't you, mother ?" 
 
 Bessie asked the question just as her mother 
 came in. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy said yes, and going up to George 
 sat down by him and laid her hand on his head 
 as his sister had done. The boy moved un- 
 easily. He saw the marks of great suffering in 
 his mother's face, but he said nothing to ex- 
 press sorrow for his disgrace. 
 
 "Bess, will you go and get George his break- 
 fast?" asked Mrs. Hardy, and the minute she 
 was gone the mother turned to her son and 
 said: 
 
 "George, do you love me ?" 
 
 George had been expecting something; differ- 
 ent. He looked at his mother as the tears fell 
 over her face, and all that was still good in him 
 rose up in rebellion against the animal part. He 
 seized his mother's hand and carried it to his 
 lips, kissed it reverently and said in a low tone : 
 
 "Mother, I am unworthy. If you knew "
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 89 
 
 , He checked himself as if on the verge of con- 
 fession. His mother waited anxiously and then 
 asked, 
 
 "Won't you tell me all?" 
 
 "No, I can't!" 
 
 George shuddered, and at that moment Bess 
 came in bearing a tray with toast and eggs and 
 coffee. Mrs. Hardy left Bess to look after her 
 brother and went out of the room almost ab- 
 ruptly. George looked ashamed, and after eat- 
 ing a little, told Bess to take the things away. 
 She looked grieved, and he said: 
 
 "Can't help it, I'm not hungry. Besides, I 
 don't deserve all this attention. Say, Bess, is 
 father still acting under his impression, or 
 dream, or whatever it was?" 
 
 "Yes, he is," replied Bessie with much seri- 
 ousness; "and he is ever so good now, and 
 kisses mother and all of us good-bye in the 
 morning. And he is kind and ever so good. I 
 don't believe he is in his right mind. Will said 
 yesterday he thought father was non campus 
 meantus And then he wouldn't tell me what
 
 90 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 it meant. But T guess be doesn't think father 
 is just right intellectually.'" 
 
 Now and then Bess got hold of a big word 
 and used it for all it would repeat. She said 
 intellectually over twice, and George laughed a 
 little, but it was a bitter laugh, not such as a 
 boy of his age has any business to possess. He 
 lay down and appeared to be thinking, and after 
 awhile said aloud: 
 
 "I wonder if he wouldn't let me have some 
 money while he's feeling that way ?" 
 
 "Who?" queried Bess. "Father?" 
 
 "What! you here still, Curiosity? Better 
 take these things downstairs !" 
 
 George spoke with his "headache tone," as 
 Clara called it, and Bess without reply gathered 
 up the tray things and went out, while George 
 continued to figure out in his hardly yet sober 
 brain the possibility of his father letting him 
 have more money with which to gamble. And 
 yet in the very next room Mrs. Hardy kneeled 
 in an agony of petition for that first-born son. 
 crying out of her heart, "0 God, it is more than. 
 I can bear ! To see him growing away from me
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 91 
 
 so ! Dear Lord, be Thou merciful to me. Bring 
 him back again to the life he used to live! How 
 proud I was of him ! What a joy he was to nie ! 
 And now, and now! gracious Father, if Thou 
 art truly compassionate, hear me! Hu^ not 
 this foul demon of drink done harm enough, 
 that it should still come into my honts! Ah, 
 but I have been indifferent to the criea of other 
 women, but now it strikes me ! Spare me, great 
 and powerful Almighty! My boy! My heart's 
 hunger is for him! I would rather see him 
 dead than see him as I saw him last night! 
 Spare me, spare me, God !" Thui the mother 
 prayed, dry-eyed, and almost despairing, while 
 he for whom she prayed that heart-broken prayer 
 calculated, with growing coldness of mind, the 
 chances of getting more money from his fathsr 
 to use in drink and at the gaming table. 
 
 appetite, and thou spirit of gambling, ye 
 are twin demons with whom many a fair-browed 
 young soul to-day is marching arm-in-arm, 
 down the dread pavement of hull's vestibule, 
 lined with grinning skeletons or past victims! 
 And yet men gravely discuss the probability of
 
 92 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 evil, and think there is no special danger in a 
 little speculation now and then. Parents say. 
 "Oh, my boy wouldn't do such a thing!" But 
 how many know really and truly what their boy 
 is really doing, and how many of the young men 
 would dare reveal to their mothers or fathers 
 the places where they have been and the amuse- 
 ments they have tasted, and the things for 
 which they have spent their money? 
 
 Mr. Hardy went at once to his neighbors, 
 the Caxtons, who lived only a block away. He 
 had not been on speaking terms with the family 
 for some time, and he dreaded the interview 
 with the sensitive dread of a very proud and 
 stern-willed man. But two days had made a 
 great change in him. He was a new man in 
 Christ Jesus. And as he rang the bell he pray- 
 ed for wisdom and humility. 
 
 James himself came to the door with his 
 overcoat on and hat in hand, evidently just 
 ready to go down town. He started back at see- 
 ing Mr. Hardy. 
 
 "Are you going down town? I will not come
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 93 
 
 in then, but walk along with you/' said Mr. 
 Hardy quietly. 
 
 So James came out, and the two walked 
 along together. There was an awkward pause 
 for a minute, then Mr. Hardy said, 
 
 "James, is it true that Clara and you are 
 engaged ?" 
 
 "No, sir; that is not exactly what you 
 might call engaged. We would like to be." Mr. 
 Hardy smiled in spite of himself. And James 
 added in a quickened tone, "We would like to 
 be with your consent, sir?" 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked on thoughtfully and then 
 glanced at the young man at his side. He was 
 six feet tall, not very handsome as Bess had 
 frankly said, but he had a good face, a steady, 
 clear blue eye, and a resolute air as of one who 
 was willing to work hard to get what he wanted . 
 Mr. Hardy could not help contrasting him with 
 his own prematurely broken-down son George, 
 and he groaned inwardly as he thought of the 
 foolish pride that would bar the doors of his 
 family to a young man like James Caxton sim- 
 ply because he was poor and his father had won
 
 9t Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 in a contested election in which the two older 
 men were candidates for the same office. 
 
 It did not take long to think all this. Then 
 he said, looking again at the young man with a 
 business-like look, 
 
 "Supposing you had my permission, what are 
 your prospects for supporting my daughter? 
 She has always had everything she wanted. 
 What could you give her?" 
 
 The question might have seemed cold and 
 business-like. The tone was thoughtful and 
 serious. 
 
 A light flashed into James's eyes, but he said 
 simply, "I am in a position to make a thousand 
 dollars a year next spring. I earn something 
 extra with my pen at home." 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not reply to this. He said. 
 <: Do you know what a wilful, quick-tempered 
 girl Clara is ?" 
 
 "I have known her from a little child, Mr. 
 Hardy. I feel as if 1 know her about as well as 
 you do." 
 
 "Perhaps you know her better than I do; I 
 do not know my child as I should."
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 95 
 
 The tone was not bitter but intensely sad. 
 The j'oung man had of course been greatly 
 wondering at this talk from Mr. Hardy, and 
 had observed the change in his manner and his 
 speech. He looked at him now and noted the 
 pale, almost haggard face, and his extremely 
 thoughtful appearance. 
 
 "Mr. Hardy," said James frankly, "you are 
 in trouble. I wish I could " 
 
 "Thank you, no, you can't help me any in 
 this except," continued Mr. Hardy with a 
 faint smile, "except you solve this trouble be- 
 tween you and my daughter." 
 
 "There is no trouble between us, sir," re- 
 plied James simply. "You know I love her and 
 have loved her for a long time, and I believe I 
 am able to support her and make her happy. 
 Won't you give your consent, sir? We are not 
 children. We know our minds." 
 
 James was beginning to speak very earnestly. 
 He was beginning to hope that the stern, proud 
 man who had so curtly dismissed him a little 
 while before would in some unaccountable man- 
 ner relent and give him his heart's desire. Mr.
 
 96 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Hardy walked along in silence a little way. 
 Then he said almost abruptly, 
 
 "James, do you drink?" 
 
 "No, sir!" 
 
 "Or gamble?" 
 
 "You forget my mother, Mr. Hardy." 
 
 The reply was almost stern. Mrs. Caxton's 
 younger brother had been ruined by gambling. 
 He had come to the house one night and, in a 
 fit of anger because his sister would not give 
 him money to carry on his speculation, he had 
 threatened her life. James had interposed, and 
 at the risk of his own life had probably saved 
 his mother's. Mrs. Caxton had been so un- 
 nerved by the scene that her health had suf- 
 fered from it seriously. All that had happened 
 when James was growing out of boyhood. But 
 not a day had passed that the young man did 
 not see a sad result of that great gambling pas- 
 sion in his own mother's face and bearing. He 
 loathed the thought of a vice so debasing that 
 it ignored all the tender ties of kindred and was 
 ready to stop at nothing in order to get means
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 97 
 
 for its exercise. Mr. Hardy knew the story and 
 he exclaimed: 
 
 "Forgive me, James, I did not think !" Then 
 after a pause "Are you a Christian? I mean 
 do you have a faith in the revelation of God to 
 men through Jesus Christ, and do you try to 
 live according to His teachings, with a su- 
 preme love for God controlling your life ? Do 
 you live every day as if it might be the last you 
 would have to live?" 
 
 James started. Was Mr. Hardy out of his 
 mind? He had never heard him talk like this 
 before. The idea of Mr. Hardy caring about 
 his religious character in the event of his be- 
 coming a son-in-law, was an idea too remote for 
 occurrence. He could see, however, that some 
 very powerful change had taken place in Mr. 
 Hardy's usual demeanor. His words also pro- 
 duced a strong effect with the young man. He 
 was like thousands of young men temperate, 
 honest, industrious, free from vices, strictly 
 moral, but without any decided religious faith. 
 "Am I a Christian ?" he asked himself, echoing 
 Mr. Hardy's question. No, he could not say
 
 98 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 that he was. He had never said so to any one. 
 Ho had, in fact, never been confronted with 
 the question before. So he replied to Mr. 
 Hardy, 
 
 "!N"o, sir, I don't think I am what would be 
 called a Christian. And as for living as if every 
 day was to be my last do you think that is 
 possible, sir?" 
 
 Mr. Hardy did not answer. He walked along 
 thoughtfully. In the course of the conversation 
 they had reached the corner where the young 
 man turned down to his office, and the two 
 paused. 
 
 "I want to have another talk with you," Mr. 
 Hardy said. "To-day is Tuesday. Say to- 
 morrow evening. I want to see your father also, 
 and " Mr. Hardy was on the point of saying 
 that he wanted to ask the elder Caxton's for- 
 giveness, but for some reason he stopped with- 
 out doing so. James exclaimed eagerly as Mr. 
 Hardy turned to go: 
 
 "Then you don't forbid my entertaining some 
 hope of your good will in the matter of my love 
 for Clara?" He lowered his voice and spoke
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 99 
 
 very strongly. "You don't forget your own 
 youth, and the way in which you yourself be- 
 gan your home?" 
 
 Mr. Hardy answered never a word to this ap- 
 peal, but looked into the young man's face with 
 a gaze he did not forget all day, then wrung 
 his hand and turned on his heel abruptly and 
 walked rapidly down the street. James looked 
 after him as he disappeared among the crowds 
 of people going to their business, and then 
 turned to his own tasks. But something in him 
 gave him hope. Another something appealed 
 all day to his inner nature, and he could not 
 shake off the impression of Mr. Hardy's ques- 
 tion, "Are you a Christian ?" And even when 
 he went home at night that question pursued 
 him more strenuously than any other, and 
 would not give him peace.
 
 100 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SECOND DAY CONTINUED. 
 
 Robert Hardy reached his office just in time 
 to see Burns, the foreman, go out of a side door 
 and cross the yard. The manager followed 
 him and entered the machine shop in time to 
 see him stop at a machine at the farthest end 
 of the shop and speak to the man at work there. 
 The mail was a Norwegian, Herman by name. 
 He was running what is called a planer, a ma- 
 chine for trimming pieces of cold metal just 
 from the foundry or the casting-room. He was 
 at work this morning on one of the eccentric 
 bars of a locomotive, and it was of such a char- 
 acter that he could leave the machine for sev- 
 eral minutes to do the planing. Burns talked 
 with this man for awhile and then moved across 
 the floor to the other workman, a small-boned, 
 nervous little fellow, who was in charge of a 
 boring machine which drove a steel drill 
 through heavy plates of iron fastened into the 
 frame.
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 101 
 
 Mr. Hardy came up just as Burns turned 
 away from this man, and touched him on the 
 shoulder. The foreman started and turned 
 about, surprised to see the manager. 
 
 "Well, Burns, how goes everything this morn- 
 ing?" asked Kobert. 
 
 "The men here are grumbling because they 
 don't have a holiday same as the men in Sco- 
 ville's department." 
 
 "But we can't shut down the whole business, 
 can we?" asked Mr. Hardy, with a momentary 
 touch of his old-time feeling. "The men are 
 unreasonable." 
 
 "I'm afraid there'll be trouble, sir. I can 
 feel it in the air," replied Burns. 
 
 Mr. Hardy made no reply in words but looked 
 about him. Within the blackened area of the 
 great shop about two hundred men were at 
 work. The whirl of machinery was constant. 
 The grind of steel on iron was blended with the 
 rattle of chains and the rolling of the metal 
 carriages in their tracks. The Genius of Eail- 
 roading seemed present in the grim strength 
 and rapidity of several machines which moved
 
 102 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 almost as if instinct with intelligence, and 
 played with the most unyielding substances as 
 if they were soft and pliable clay. In the midst 
 of all the smashing of matter against itself, 
 through the smoke and din and dust and revo- 
 lution of the place, Mr. Hardy was more than 
 usually alive this morning to the human aspect 
 of the case. His mind easily went back to the 
 time when he himself stood at one of these 
 planers and did just such work as that big Nor- 
 wegian was doing, only the machines were 
 vastly better and improved now. Mr. Hardy 
 was not ashamed of having come along through 
 the ranks of manual labor. In fact, he always 
 spoke with pride of the work he used to do in 
 that very shop, and he considered himself able 
 to run all by himself any piece of machinery 
 in the shops. But he could not help envying 
 these men this morning. "Why," he said, "prob- 
 ably not one of them but has at least seven 
 weeks to live, and most of them seven months 
 
 or years, while I . Why should these men 
 
 complain because they are not released from 
 toil? Isn't toil sweet when there is a strong
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 103 
 
 body and a loving wife and a happy home ? 
 God !" he continued to think, "I would give all 
 my wealth if I might change places with any 
 one of these men, and know that I would prob- 
 ably have more than a week to live." 
 
 Mr. Hardy walked back to his office, leaving 
 the foreman in a condition of wondering as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Something wrong in his works, I guess,'' 
 muttered Burns. 
 
 Mr. Hardy sat down to his desk and wrote an 
 order, releasing all the men who desired to at- 
 tend Scoville's funeral in the afternoon. He 
 did not have it in his power to do more, and 
 yet he felt that this was the least he could do 
 under the circumstances. The more he thought 
 of Scoville's death the more he felt the cruel 
 injustice of it. The injuries were clearly acci- 
 dental. But they might have been avoided with 
 proper care for human life. And Robert Hardy 
 was just beginning to understand the value of 
 humanity. 
 
 He worked hard at the routine of his office 
 work until noon. He did what seemed to him
 
 104 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 the most necessary part of it all with conscien- 
 tious fidelity. But his mind, a good part of the 
 time, was with the men in the shops. He could 
 not escape the conviction that if a railroad com- 
 pany had the willingness to do so, it could 
 make the surroundings of these men safer and 
 happier without getting poorer work or even 
 losing any money by it. 
 
 When noon sounded he went home resolved 
 to do something as far as lay in his power to 
 make the men feel that they were regarded as 
 something more than machines. 
 
 George was downstairs when his father came 
 in and looked at him with curiosity rather than 
 with any feeling of shame for the scene of the 
 night before. After lunch was over, Mr. Hardy 
 called his son into the study for a little talk 
 with him before going down to the funeral. 
 
 "I do not need to tell you, George," began 
 his father, quietly but with feeling, "that I felt 
 the disgrace of your drunkenness last night 
 very bitterly. You cannot know the feelings 
 of your father and mother in that respect. But 
 I did not call you in here to reproach you for
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 105 
 
 your vices. I want to know what you intend 
 to do in the face of the present conditions? 7 ' 
 Mr. Hardy paused, then went on again. "I am 
 perfectly aware, George, that you regard my 
 dream as a fancy, and think I am probably out 
 of my mind. Isn't that true?" Mr. Hardy 
 looked George full in the face and the young 
 man stammered, 
 
 ''Well I ah yes I don't just under- 
 stand" 
 
 "At the same time," went on his father, "I 
 realize that nothing but a conviction of reality 
 could produce the change in me which you and 
 all the rest of the family must acknowledge has 
 taken place. And you must confess that I am 
 acting far more rationally than I did before my 
 dream occurred. It is not natural for a father 
 to neglect his own children, and I have done it. 
 It is not rational that he should spend his time 
 and money and strength on himself so as to 
 grow intensely selfish, and I have done that. 
 My son, you may doubt me, but I am firmly 
 convinced that I shall not be alive here after 
 next Sunday. I am trying to live as I ought to
 
 106 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 live under those conditions. My son," Mr. 
 Hardy spoke with dignity and a certain im- 
 pression which George could not but feel, "I 
 want you to do as you know you ought to do 
 under the circumstances. When I am gone 
 your mother and the girls will look to you for 
 advice and direction. You will probably have 
 to leave college for a little while. We will talk 
 that over this evening. But I want you to 
 promise me that you will not touch another 
 glass of liquor or handle another card as long 
 as you live." 
 
 George laughed a little uneasily, and then 
 lied outright. "I don't see the harm of a game 
 once in a while just for fun. I don't play for 
 stakes as some fellows do.'*' 
 
 ''George/'' said his father looking at him 
 steadily, "you have not told the truth. You 
 were gambling only a few nights ago. It is use- 
 less for you to deny it. That is where the very 
 liberal allowance I have given you has been 
 squandered." George turned deadly pale and 
 sat with bowed head while his father went on 
 almost sternly, "Consider your mother, George,
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 107 
 
 whose heart almost hroke when you came in 
 last night. I don't ask you to consider me. I 
 have not been to you what a father ought to be. 
 But if you love your mother and sisters, and 
 have any self-respect left, you will let drink 
 and cards alone after this. In the sight of God, 
 iriy dear boy, remember what He made you for. 
 You are young, you have all of life before 
 you. You can make a splendid record if God 
 spares your life. I would gladly give all I pos- 
 sess to stand where you do to-day, and live my 
 life over again. I can't do it. The past is irre- 
 vocable. But one can always repent. George, 
 believe me, your mother would rather see you 
 in your coffin than see you come home again as 
 you did last night. We love you " 
 
 Mr. Hardy, proud man as he was, could say 
 no more. He laid his hand on the boy's head 
 as if he were a young lad again, and said sim- 
 ply, "Don't disappoint God, my boy," and went 
 out leaving his son sitting there almost over- 
 come by his father's powerful appeal, but not 
 yet ready to yield himself to the still, small 
 voice that spoke within even more powerfully,
 
 108 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and whispered to him, <r My son, give me thine 
 heart. Cease to do evil, learn to do well. 
 Cleanse thy ways andfollow after righteousness." 
 It was one o'clock when Mr. Hardy came 
 downstairs, and as he came into the room where 
 Mrs. Hardy and the girls were sitting, he hap- 
 pened to think of some business matters be- 
 tween himself and his only brother who lived 
 in the next town twenty miles down the road. 
 He spoke of the matter to Mrs. Hardy, and she 
 suggested that Will go down on the three 
 o'clock train with the papers Mr. Hardy want- 
 ed to have his brother look over, and come back 
 on the six o'clock in time for supper. Clara 
 asked if she couldn't go too, and Bess added her 
 request, as she had not seen her aunt for some 
 time. Mr. Hardy saw no objection to their 
 going, only he reminded them that he wanted 
 them all back at six. Alice volunteered to 
 amuse George at home while all the rest were 
 gone, and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy departed for the 
 funeral, Mr. Hardy's thoughts still absorbed 
 for the most part with his oldest boy. Clara 
 had asked no questions concerning the inter-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 109 
 
 view with James, and her father simply stated 
 that they could have a good talk about it in the 
 evening. 
 
 The tenement at 760 was crowded, and in 
 spite of the wintry weather large numbers of 
 men and women stood outside in the snow. Mr. 
 Hardy had ordered his sleigh, and he and his 
 wife had gone down to the house in that, ready 
 to take some one to the cemetery. The simple 
 service as it began was exceedingly impressive 
 to Mr. Hardy. Most of the neighbors present 
 looked at him and his well-dressed wife in sul- 
 len surprise. She noticed the looks with a 
 heightening color. But Mr. Hardy was too much 
 absorbed in his thoughts of what he had done 
 and left undone in this family, to be influenced 
 by the behavior of those about him. Mr. Jones 
 offered a prayer for the comfort of God to rest 
 on the stricken family. He then read a few 
 words from John's gospel appropriate to the 
 occasion, and said a few simple words mostly 
 addressed to the neighbors present. The poor 
 widow had been removed to a small room up- 
 stairs, and lay there cared for by the faithful
 
 110 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 sister. The minister had nearly concluded his 
 remarks when a voice was heard in the room 
 above, voices expostulating in alarm and grow- 
 ing louder, followed by a rapid movement in the 
 narrow hall above; and with a scream of frenzy 
 the wife rushed down the stairs and burst into 
 the room where the dead body of her husband 
 lay. She had suddenly awakened out of the 
 fainting stupor in which she had been lying 
 since her husband's death and realized what 
 was going on in the house, with a quick gather- 
 ing of passion and strength such as even the 
 dying sometimes are known to possess. She 
 had escaped from her sister and the neighbor 
 who was watching with her, and crazy with 
 grief, flung herself over the coffin, moaning 
 and crying out in such heart-breaking accents 
 that all present were for a moment flung into 
 a state of inaction and awe. But Mrs. Hardy 
 was first to move towards the stricken woman. 
 Where did the wife of the once haughty and 
 proud man learn the touch of sympathy that 
 drew that other poor sister nearer to her, and 
 finally soothed her into quietness? Certain it
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. Ill 
 
 is that suffering in her own home had marvel- 
 ously taught the richly-dressed woman, the re- 
 fined, cultured lady, to hold this other one to 
 be of the same household of God with her. And 
 so it was that she finally succeeded in drawing 
 her away in the other room, and there held her, 
 gasping for breath, now that the brief strength 
 was spent, and crying feebly, "Oh, God, help 
 me! Don't keep me here in this world any 
 longer!" 
 
 If this brief scene thrilled the neighbors with 
 pity, what shall be said of its effect on Robert 
 Hardy ? For a moment it seemed to him more 
 than he could bear. He started to his feet and 
 put his hands before his face. Then calming 
 himself by a great effort he sat down, and his 
 face became almost like a stone in its rigidity. 
 When his wife finally succeeded in getting the 
 woman into the rear room, his face relaxed and 
 he breathed more easily. But as soon as possi- 
 ble he rose and went out and stood silent there 
 until the body was brought out and placed in 
 the hearse. Then he went in and spoke a few 
 words to his wife, and told Mr. Jones that he
 
 112 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 could take four or five to the cemetery if they 
 wished to go. Mrs. Hardy would stay with the 
 suffering widow until he came back. Mr. Hardy 
 also whispered something to his minister, and 
 gave him a large roll of bills to be used for the 
 family, and then went out again. That ride in 
 the cold gray of the declining winter afternoon 
 was a bitter experience to Robert. He roused 
 himself at the grave as he heard the words, 
 "Raise us from the death of sin unto the resur- 
 rection of righteousness," and something like 
 a gleam of hope shot through his heart at the 
 words. Surely, there was mercy with Him who 
 had conquered death for the sake of the human 
 race. He drove back with more peace of soul 
 than he had thought possible. By the time he 
 had reached the shop tenements it was growing 
 dark. He drove home with his wife and thought 
 with something of a feeling of pleasure of the 
 evening before him with his family. This 
 second day had been more agitating in some 
 ways than his first. 
 
 He had been unnerved at the funeral. He 
 felt his remorse more keenly than he had once
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 113 
 
 thought possible. As he reviewed the events 
 of the day with his wife he felt dissatisfied. 
 And yet he had truly tried to do his duty in the 
 light of eternity. What more could he do ? 
 
 He felt anxious about George and told his 
 wife of the conversation he had with him. Mrs. 
 Hardy felt the same anxiety with her husband. 
 After the horses were put up and the father and 
 mother had gone into the house they continued 
 the conversation. Alice was upstairs with 
 George, and the other children had not come 
 back. It was dark, but husband and wife sat 
 by the light of the open fire and talked to- 
 gether until nearly six o'clock. Mr. Hardy had 
 just said something about Clara, and Mrs. 
 Hardy replied, "Isn't it about time they were 
 here ?" when the telephone bell rang in the lit- 
 tle office adjoining the hallway where Mr. 
 Hardy did some of the business of the company, 
 being connected by wire with the shops. He 
 went in and answered the call and a series of 
 sharp exclamations and questions was soon fol- 
 lowed by his coming back into the room where 
 his wife sat. By the light of the open fire she
 
 114 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 could see that he was very pale. His overcoat 
 was lying on the couch where he had thrown 
 it as he came in. He hastily put it on, and then 
 said to his wife, "Mary, there has been an ac- 
 cident to the six o'clock way-train between 
 Baldwin and here, and Burns has telephoned 
 me to come down. Don't be alarmed. We will 
 hope for the best." 
 
 Mrs. Hardy started up. "Why, Will and Bess 
 and Clara were coming home on that train !" 
 
 "Mary," Mr. Hardy's voice trembled, but he 
 tried to speak calmly and in comfort, "let us 
 hope for the best." 
 
 "What did Mr. Burns telephone? Tell me 
 all, Robert. I can bear it with you." 
 
 "He telephoned that the train was derailed 
 and a dozen people killed and as many injured 
 But I must go down the road at once! my 
 God! Spare our dear ones!" 
 
 Mr. Hardy was almost overwhelmed by this 
 last stroke and yet he asked himself how many 
 accidents had occurred this last year on the 
 road and he had never given much thought to
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 115 
 
 the suffering of those families afflicted? Now 
 perhaps it had come to him. And bidding his 
 wife pray and hope, he rushed out of the house 
 and down to the station with the energy and 
 rapidity of the youth who in college days had 
 taken prizes for athletic superiority. 
 
 At the yard he found a special train just 
 ready to go to the scene of the accident. It 
 consisted of a wrecking car, a caboose, and one 
 coach with tender and engine. He mounted 
 the engine with a feeling that it was a little 
 nearer the fatal spot and would reach there 
 first. At the last minute no more definite 
 news concerning the particular persons killed 
 and injured had been received. 
 
 Mr. Hardy felt almost glad of the uncer- 
 tainty as the engine pulled out and started on 
 its ran of fifteen miles, soon attaining a speed 
 of fifty-five miles an hour. The snow was fall- 
 ing in large, moist flakes. It was growing 
 warmer and would rain before morning. He 
 gazed at the narrow band of light on the track 
 ahead, and leaned forward as if to help the en- 
 gine go faster. He did not speak. And so the
 
 116 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 train rushed through the night. And so the 
 second of Robert Hardy's Seven Days drew to 
 a close.
 
 Kobert Hardy'a Seven Days, 117 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 > 
 
 THE THIRD DAY WEDNESDAY. 
 
 As the engine drew near the scene of the 
 wreck, a great crowd could be seen standing 
 about the track. Before the train came to a 
 stop, Robert Hardy leaped down from the cab 
 and struggled forward, uttering cries of which 
 he himself probably was not conscious. The 
 accident had occurred upon a bridge which 
 spanned a small river in the vicinity of Baldwin. 
 near which town Mr. Hardy's brother lived. 
 
 The engine, mail car, two day-coaches and 
 two sleepers had crashed through, and falling 
 a distance of fifty feet had partly broke?! 
 through the ice of the frozen stream. To add 
 to the horror of the disaster the two sleepers 
 had caught fire, and there was absolutely no 
 means to fight it. Mr. Hardy caught confused 
 glimpses of men down on the ice throwing hand- 
 fuls of snow upon blazing timbers in a frantic
 
 118 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 attempt to drive back or put out the flames. 
 He fell, rather than scrambled, down the steep, 
 slippery bank of the stream, and then the fuil 
 horror of the situation began to dawn upon 
 him. 
 
 The baggage-car and tender had fallen in 
 such a way that the trucks rested upright on 
 the ice, and the position of the timbers was 
 relatively that of the train before it had left 
 the track. One day-coach lay upon its side, but 
 had broken completely in two as if some giant 
 hand had pulled it apart, leaving the ragged 
 ends of timbers projecting towards one another 
 in such curious fashion that if the two ends of 
 the car had been pushed towards the middle 
 the splintered beams would have fitted into 
 place almost as if made on a pattern. The 
 other day-coach had fallen upon one end, and 
 one-third of the entire coach was under water. 
 The other end, resting partly against the 
 broken car, stuck up in the air like some cu- 
 rious, fantastic pillar or leaning tower. Mr. 
 Hardy was conscious of all this and more as he 
 heard the groans of the injured, and the cries
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 119 
 
 of those begging to be released from the tim- 
 bers under which they had been caught. 
 But his own children! Never had he so loved 
 them as now. The crowd of people had in- 
 creased to a mob. The confusion was that of 
 terror. Mr. Hardy rushed about the wreck 
 searching for his children, a great throbbing at 
 his heart as he thought of their probable fate, 
 when the sweetest of all sounds, Bessie's de-ar 
 voice, came to him, and the next minute he had 
 caught up the child as she ran to him, and 
 strained her to his breast as he held her in his 
 arms as in the old days when he had carried 
 her about the house and yard. 
 
 "Where are Will and Clara?" 
 
 "0 father ! they're here, and Will wasn't hurt 
 much more than I was. But Clara has fainted 
 and she is lying down over here." 
 
 Bess dragged her father out across the ice to 
 the edge of the bank where a number of the 
 victims had been laid on the cushions of the 
 seats, some dead, some dying, and there lay 
 Clara, very white and still, with Will bending 
 over her, himself bleeding from several wounds
 
 120 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 about the head and hands, but still conscious 
 and trying to restore his sister. 
 
 Mr. Hardy kneeled down in the snow by his 
 son's side, and Will, seeing him there, was not 
 surprised, but he sobbed excitedly, "Oh, she is- 
 dead!" 
 
 "No," replied his father, "she is not." 
 
 Clara stirred, and her lips moved, but she 
 did not open her eyes, and then her father no- 
 ticed that a strange mark lay over her face. 
 
 How Mr. Hardy succeeded in carrying the 
 girl to the top of the bank, how he left her 
 there in the care of brave-hearted women while 
 he went down into that hell's pit to rescue vic- 
 tims imprisoned and groaning for help, how 
 Bess related the accident of the night and tried 
 to explain how she was not hurt except a 
 scratch or two, because she fell between two 
 car-seat cushions that were jammed around her 
 and protected her from injury, how the excite- 
 ment grew as it was discovered that the dead 
 and dying would number more than seventy- 
 five instead of ten or twelve as Burns tele- 
 phoned, how finally Robert Hardy and Will
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 121 
 
 and Bess and Clara, with other victims, were 
 taken back to Barton, where a great crowd of 
 anxious, pale-faced people was surging through 
 the station and over the track, how James Cax- 
 ton was first to board the train down by the 
 shops at the risk of his neck as in the rainy 
 darkness he swung himself on the dead run up 
 to the platform of the coach, how Mrs. Hardy 
 met her children and husband, how there was 
 sorrow in many a home in Barton that night 
 and for many days to come, how Mr. Hardy 
 finally, a little after midnight, entirely ex- 
 hausted by the events of the day and night, fell 
 asleep and dreamed the scene all over again 
 all this and a great deal more might be of in- 
 terest concerning one of the most remarkable 
 railroad accidents that ever occurred in this 
 country, but would be out of place in this nar- 
 rative. For it is all true, exactly and literally, 
 only the detailed horrors of it no pen can de- 
 scribe, no words can tell. 
 
 Mr. Hardy woke about eight o'clock, rested, 
 but feeling very lame and sore from his exer- 
 tions of the night. His first thought was of
 
 122 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Clara. When he went to sleep the girl seemed 1 
 to be resting without pain, only that strange 
 mark across her face made them all anxious. 
 It was not a bruise, but it lay like a brand across- 
 the eyes which had not opened since her father 
 found her lying by the frozen stream. James 
 had insisted on staying in the house to be of 
 service, and Mrs. Hardy had felt grateful for 
 his presence as she watched for returning con- 
 sciousness from Clara, who still gave no more- 
 sign of animation although she breathed easily 
 and seemed to be free from pain. Every doctor 
 and surgeon in town had been summoned to 
 the scene of the accident. But Mr. Hardy felt 
 so anxious for Clara as he came in and looked 
 at her, that he went downstairs and asked 
 James if he wouldn't run out and see if any of 
 the doctors had returned. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I'll go at once. How is she now, 
 Mr. Hardy?" James looked him in the face 
 with the look that love means when it is true 
 and brave. 
 
 "My boy," replied Mr. Hardy laying his hand 
 on James's shoulder, "I don't know. There is
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 123 
 
 something strange about it. Get a doctor if you 
 can. But I know there must be many other sad 
 homes to-day in Barton. Oh, it was horrible !" 
 
 He sat down and covered his face while James 
 with a brief "God help us, sir!" went out in 
 search of a doctor. 
 
 Mr. Hardy went upstairs again, and with his 
 wife kneeled down and offered a prayer of 
 thanksgiving and of appeal. "0 Lord," said 
 Bobert, "grant that this dear one of ours may 
 be restored to us again. Spare us this anguish, 
 not in return for our goodness but out of Thy 
 great compassion for our sins repented of!" 
 
 Will and Bess lay in the next room, and now 
 that the reaction had set in they were sleeping, 
 Will feverish and restless, Bess quite peaceful, 
 as if nothing had happened out of the usual 
 order of things. 
 
 "Where is George?" asked Mr. Hardy as he 
 rose from his prayer. 
 
 "I don't know, Kobert. He started down to 
 the train a little while after you did. Haven't 
 you seen him?" 
 
 "Xo, Mary. God grant he may not " Mr.
 
 124 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Hardy did not dare finish his thought aloud. 
 His wife guessed his thought, and together the 
 two sat hand in hand, drawn very near by their 
 mutual trouble and by all the strange events 
 of that strange week. And together they talked 
 of the accident, and of Clara and James, and 
 their oldest son; and then Mrs. Hardy said, as 
 she tremblingly drew her husband's face near 
 to her: 
 
 "Kobert, do you still have that impression 
 concerning the time left you here to live ? Do 
 you still think this week is to be the end?" 
 
 Mrs. Hardy had a vague hope that the shock 
 of the accident might have destroyed the im- 
 pression of the dream, but her hope was disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 "My dear wife," replied Robert, "there IB 
 not the least doubt in my mind that my dream 
 was a vision of what will happen. There is no 
 question but that after Sunday I shall not be 
 with you. This is Wednesday. How light- 
 ning-like the days have flown! How precious 
 the moments are! How many of them I have 
 wasted in foolish selfishness! Mary, I should
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 125 
 
 go mad with the thought if I did not feel the 
 necessity of making this week the best week of 
 all my life. Only, I do not know what is most 
 important to do. If it had been seven months, 
 or even seven weeks, I might have planned more 
 wisely. Oh, it is cruelly brief, the time! But 
 I must make the wisest possible use of it. This 
 accident, so unexpected, has complicated the 
 matter. I had not reckoned on it." 
 
 How many of us do reckon on accidents! 
 They always come into our lives with a shock. 
 Yet it seems possible that a man who lives very 
 close to God every day might be so ready for 
 everything that not even the most terrible ca- 
 tastrophe could make much difference to his 
 plans for daily life, least of all deprive him of 
 his reason as it has so often done. Robert 
 Hardy was just beginning to realize dimly that 
 life is not one thing, but many things, and that 
 its importance is the importance which belongs 
 to the character of God himself. 
 
 He began to talk calmly with his wife con- 
 cerning what he would do that day, and was 
 still talking about it when James came in with.
 
 126 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 a doctor who at once went upstairs. He was 
 just from the scene of the accident, and bore 
 marks of a hard night's work. His first glance 
 at Clara was hard and professional. But as he 
 looked he grew very grave, and an expression of 
 serious surprise came over his weary face. He 
 laid his hands on the girl's eyes and examined 
 them; raised her hand and dropped it upon the 
 hed again. Then turning to the father and 
 mother he said gently, 
 
 "You must prepare yourselves for a terrible 
 fact resulting from the shock to your daughter. 
 She has suffered a shock that will probably 
 render her blind as long as she lives." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hardy listened, pale-faced and 
 troubled. It was hard to think of the girl, so 
 strong-willed, so passionate, and yet so capa- 
 ble of noble impulses and loving desires, as all 
 her life shut up within the darkness thus. It 
 was bitter to think of this for her. What 
 would it be to her when she awoke to the whole 
 consciousness of it? The doctor spoke again 
 slowly: 
 
 "There is another thing you ought to be pro-
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 127 
 
 pared for. In rare cases like this, it happens 
 sometimes that a loss of hearing accompanies 
 the loss of sight." Then after a pause, "And 
 with the loss of sight and hearing it is possible 
 the peculiar shock has deprived your daughter 
 of the power of speech. I do not know yet 
 whether this has happened, but I prepare you 
 for the worst." 
 
 "Blind, and deaf, and dumb!" murmured 
 Mr. Hardy, while his wife sat down and buried 
 her face in the bed clothes and sobbed. It 
 seemed terrible to them. The doctor, after a 
 little further examination, said nothing more 
 could be done at present, gave directions for 
 certain necessary treatment, and departed after 
 giving a look at Will and Bess and prescribing 
 for them. Mr. Hardy went downstairs and 
 quietly told James all that the doctor had said. 
 To a man living on the verge of eternity, as 
 Mr. Hardy was, there was no time for evasions 
 or the postponing of bad news, or the utterance 
 of soft speeches. James took the news more 
 calmly than Mr. Hardy thought he would. It
 
 128 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 was evident he did not realize all that was 
 meant by it. 
 
 "Can you love Clara under these conditions ?" 
 asked Mr. Hardy, looking at James with a 
 sympathy that the young man could not 
 help feeling. 
 
 "Yes, sir, more than ever. Why, is she not 
 more in need of it than ever ?" 
 
 "True. But what can you do with a helpless 
 creature like that?" 
 
 "'God help us, sir! If she was my wife now 
 and was dependent on me, don't" you think I 
 could care for her tenderly better than anyone 
 else in the world ?" 
 
 Mr. Hardy shook his head. "This is a hard 
 blow to me, James. I don't know just what to 
 say yet. But it is possible the poor girl may not 
 have to suffer all that. Let us hope the doctor 
 is not justified in his supposition. Indeed, he 
 said he could not tell for certain that loss of 
 hearing and speech would follow. If they do, 
 I cannot see how Clara can retain her reason 
 when she recovers from the shock. James, 1 
 believe you are a good fellow. I have not for-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 129 
 
 gotten my own courtship. I will not stand in 
 the way between you and your love for Clara in 
 anything right and reasonable. I had hoped 
 we might have a good talk together over the 
 matter. This accident has made it impossible 
 for a time, at least. But I confide in you as an 
 honest, true man. We must wait for events to 
 take shape. Meanwhile let us pray God to 
 give us wisdom and lead us into the way 
 we need to go." 
 
 James Caxton listened to Mr. Hardy with a 
 feeling of astonishment. This was not the 
 Robert Hardy he had known all his life. This 
 was a new man. For a moment his own hopes 
 and fears were almost lost sight of in the 
 thought of the great change in the elder man. 
 In a tumult of feeling he went home, after beg- 
 ging Mrs. Hardy to send him word if Clara be- 
 came worse or if there was any service he could 
 render the family, and Robert went back up- 
 stairs where his wife sat by the side of the in- 
 jured girl. 
 
 "Mary," he said, "I must go down to the 
 shop. You know I left word with Wellman to
 
 130 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 do what he could in the office until I could get 
 down. But this accident has made it impera- 
 tive that I be there myself. There are details 
 the men cannot attend to. I cannot do any 
 more here, and I must do what I can for the 
 sufferers. God has been merciful to us, dear. 
 Our dear ones are spared to us. Oh, when I 
 heard Bessie's voice in that hell's pit it seemed 
 to me God was taking pity on me for the burden 
 I am carrying this week. And if she had been 
 killed I do believe I should have gone mad. 
 Pray for me, sweetheart !" And with a kiss and 
 embrace Robert left the house, and even in the 
 sorrow of all her trouble, Mrs. Hardy felt a 
 great wave of joy flow through her at the 
 thought of a love come back to her, and as she 
 went to the window and watched the tall, 
 strong figure swing down the street, she almost 
 felt a girl again, and wondered if he would turn 
 around and see her there and toss his hat to her 
 as in the old days. Yes, just before he reached 
 the corner when he had to turn he looked back 
 up at the window, saw his wife standing there, 
 and took off his hat with a smile, and she waved
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 131 
 
 her hand at him and colored as when her Rob- 
 ert used to do the same thing when he was 
 courting her! "Two fools!" somebody say?. 
 Yes, two children of God, who have seen His 
 face and learned what all this life means. 
 
 He found much to do at the shops. The ac- 
 cident necessitated special work. It looked to 
 him as if he must be down there all day. There 
 was almost a panic in the planing-rooms. The 
 air was heavy with the horror of the night be- 
 fore. Owing to the wreck, there was more need 
 of work in the shops than ever. But along 
 towards noon Burns came into the office pull- 
 ing a long face, and asking Mr. Hardy to step 
 across the yard and talk to the men who had 
 threatened, Burns said, to do mischief if they 
 were not given the afternoon to go down to the 
 scene of the disaster. Mr. Hardy, with a sink- 
 ing heart, rose and followed Burns into the 
 planing-rooms. He told the foreman to get the 
 men together in the centre of the room. They 
 stopped their machines and gathered in the 
 largest open space between the planers, and Mr. 
 Hardy addressed them.
 
 132 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "What do you want? Burns tells me there 
 . is dissatisfaction. Speak out so that we may 
 know what the trouble is." 
 
 There was an awkward pause. Then one 
 man spoke up. 
 
 "We think the company ought to give us the 
 clay off." 
 
 "What for?" asked Mr. Hardy mildly. Un- 
 der any other circumstances he would have told 
 the men they might leave for good if they did 
 not like the pay and the company. He had done 
 just that thing twice before. But things were 
 different now. He looked at the men in a new 
 light. He was a new man himself. Besides, it 
 was imperative that the work in the shops go 
 on. The company could ill afford to lose the 
 work just at this particular time. All these 
 considerations did not blind Robert to his obli- 
 gations as an officer of the company. He was 
 only anxious that no injustice should be done. 
 So he said, "What for?" mildly and quietly, and 
 waited for an answer. 
 
 The spokesman was not quite ready with an 
 answer. The directness of the question, and
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 133 
 
 the mildness of it also, surprised him. Another 
 man spoke up. 
 
 "Our friends were in the accident. We want 
 to go see them." 
 
 "Very well. How many men had relatives or 
 friends in the accident who are injured or 
 killed? Let them step forward." 
 
 There was a moment of inaction. Then three 
 men stepped out. Mr. Hardy said, "You may 
 go if you want to. Why didn't you ask for leave 
 off if you wanted it? What reason have you to 
 suppose the company would refuse such a re- 
 quest? Now, what is the trouble with the rest ? 
 The company is not in a position to grant a 
 holiday at this particular time, and you know 
 it. Come! Be fair, men! I can't shut down 
 the shops all day to let you go and see a railroad 
 wreck. Be reasonable ! What do you want ?" 
 
 "We want more pay and freedom from Sun- 
 day work/' said a big fellow, the Norwegian 
 who ran the biggest planer in the shop. He 
 had more than once proved troublesome to 
 Burns, but he was a remarkablv intelligent and
 
 134 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 skillful workman, and the foreman had endured 
 much irritation on that account. 
 
 Mr. Hardy replied, still speaking pleasantly, 
 "The matter of more pay is one we cannot well 
 discuss here now, but I will say to you and all 
 th 3 rest that as far as it is in my power there 
 shall be no more Sunday work demanded " 
 "while I live" Mr. Hardy was on the point 
 of saying, but he said instead "of the men 
 in the shops." 
 
 "'Still, that is not the question," replied the 
 man in an insolent tone. Mr. Hardy looked at 
 him more closely and saw that he had been 
 drinking. Several of the workmen cried out, 
 
 "Shut up, Herman ! Mr. Hardy be right; we 
 be fools to make row now at this time." 
 
 And a dozen men started for their machines 
 to go to work again, while Burns went up and 
 laid his hand on the Norwegian's arm and said 
 to him, roughly, 
 
 "Quit off now. You've been dipping that 
 beard of yours into a whisky barrel. Better 
 mind your pegs or you get your walking pa- 
 pers."
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 135 
 
 "Mind your own, Burns," replied the big man 
 heavily. "You be somethings of a beard drink- 
 er yourself if you had the beard." 
 
 Burns was so enraged at the drunken retort 
 that he drew back as if to strike the man, when 
 the Norwegian smote the foreman a blow that 
 laid him sprawling in the iron dust. Instantly 
 Mr. Hardy stepped up between the two men 
 before Burns could rise. We have spoken of 
 Robert's intense horror of the coarse physical 
 vices. It seemed totally wrong to him that a 
 v.'orkman should degrade himself with drink. 
 Besides, he could not tolerate such actions in 
 the shops. He looked the drunken man in the 
 face and said sternly: 
 
 "You are discharged ! I cannot afford to em- 
 ploy drunken men in these shops. You may go 
 this instant!" 
 
 The man leered at Mr. Hardy, raised his arm 
 as if to strike, while the manager confronted 
 him with a stern look, but before he could do 
 any harm two or three of the men seized him 
 and hustled him back to the other end 
 of the shops, while Burns arose, vowing
 
 136 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 vengeance. The men went back to their 
 machines, and Mr. Hardy, with an anx- 
 ious feeling of heart, went back into the office, 
 satisfied that there would be no trouble at the 
 shops for the rest of the day at least. He felt 
 sorry that he had been obliged to discharge 
 Herman, but he felt that he had done the right 
 thing. The company could not afford in any 
 way to employ men who were drunkards, espec- 
 ially not just at this time, when it began to be 
 more than plainly hinted that the result of the 
 accident on the road was due to the partial in- 
 toxication of a track inspector. That accident 
 was a complication in Robert Hardy's Seven 
 Days. It was demanding of him precious time 
 that he longed to spend in his family. 
 
 At one time in the afternoon as he worked at 
 tho office, Mr. Hardy was tempted to resign his 
 position and go home, come what might. But 
 to his credit be it said, even in his most selfish 
 moments formerly, he had been faithful to his 
 duties at the office. At present no one could take 
 his place at once. He felt that his duty to the 
 company and to the public demanded his ser-
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 137 
 
 vices at the time of a crisis in railroad matters. 
 So he stayed and worked on, praying as he 
 worked for his dear ones and hoping, as no bad 
 news came from home, that Clara was better. 
 He had been to the telephone several times and 
 had two or three short talks with his wife, and 
 now as it began to grow dark in the office, just 
 as the lights were turned on the bell rang again, 
 and Mrs. Hardy called him up to tell him that 
 the minister, Mr. Jones, had called and wanted 
 to see him about some of the families that were 
 injured in the accident at the foundry-room. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Jones I will try to see him at the 
 meeting to-night." (In Barton the church 
 meeting fell on Wednesday.) "And tell him I 
 will have something to give him for what he 
 wants. How is Clara now?" 
 
 "No change yet. Will is suffering some from 
 nervousness. He says he had a horrible dream 
 of the accident this afternoon. Bess is about 
 the same. Her escape was a miracle." 
 
 "Has George come home yet?" 
 
 "No, I am getting anxious about him. I wish
 
 138 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 you would inquire about him at the Bramleye 
 as you come up to supper." 
 
 "I will. I must leave very soon. This has 
 been a terrible day down here. God keeps us. 
 Good bye.''
 
 Robert Hardy'a Seven Daya, 13U 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE THIRD DAY CONTINUED. 
 
 Robert finished most of the work, toiling as 
 never in all his life before, and started for home 
 at six. On the way he made inquiries concern- 
 ing George, but nobody had seen him since the 
 evening before. When he reached the house he 
 found his wife, utterly worn out, had lain down 
 for a little sleep and Alice was caring for the 
 patients with a calm courage and quiet cheer- 
 fulness that revealed the girl's strong, self- 
 reliant character. Clara's condition had not 
 changed. She still lay as if sleeping. Alice 
 reported that once in the afternoon she had 
 moved her lips and distinctly called for water. 
 Mr. Hardy and Bess sat down to the supper 
 table by themselves, and Bess again told how 
 she had been saved from even a scratch in that 
 terrible fall. It was indeed remarkable that the 
 child did not seem to suffer even from the gen- 
 eral shock and reaction from the disaster.
 
 140 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 After a brief meal Mr. Hardy went upstairs 
 to Clara again. His chief anxiety now was for 
 her. He believed that if the doctor's fears were 
 realized, she would become insane. It was not 
 possible that a person of her temperament and 
 passion could be otherwise in case she should 
 come to consciousness of her condition. As the 
 evening wore on, Mr. Hardy felt that his duty 
 lay in his own home for that night, and he 
 would have to see his minister some other time. 
 He thought of the prayer meeting with regret, 
 and sat by the bed of the unconscious girl, won- 
 dering how it was possible that for all these 
 years gone by, he had been so indifferent to one 
 of the best and most precious opportunities for 
 growing in spiritual manhood. He heard the 
 bell ring for service, and when it stopped he sat 
 with his face in his hands praying. 
 
 The prayer meeting in Mr. Jones's church 
 was generally a very quiet affair. A good many 
 people in the church, especially those who came 
 to the meeting only occasionally, thought it was 
 stupid. But it was a noticeable fact that those 
 who attended regularly were the ones who did
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 141 
 
 the most work in the church, and the ones who 
 grew stronger and sweeter in the Christian life. 
 There was usually no regular subject given out. 
 There was very little talking done. From be- 
 ginning to close it was nearly all prayer. Mr. 
 Jones did not feel afraid of the long pauses. He 
 believed that the modern American life was so 
 full of nervousness and hurry that it did not 
 hurt any one to sit still and think a minute or 
 t\vo. That was the reason so many people 
 called Mr. Jones's prayer meetings dull, because 
 they were not rushing all the time with sensa- 
 tional or exciting remarks and incidents. Mr. 
 Jones didn't believe that was what a prayer 
 meeting was for, and he planned for it according- 
 ly. But this particular evening was an exception. 
 The great railroad accident so near them had 
 stirred the entire community to its sympathetic 
 depths. Several families in Mr. Jones's church 
 had been sufferers. As if by tacit consent there 
 was an unusually large gathering at the church, 
 and the subject was of necessity the recent dis- 
 aster. It was a spontaneous meeting. The 
 minister briefly opened with the expressed de-
 
 142 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 sire that God would bless the suffering, prepare 
 the dying, and comfort the living, and almost 
 instantly a service of prayer began which was 
 like a flood in its continuous outpouring. The 
 people seemed urged by some irresistible feeling 
 to relieve the pent-up strain of the day in 
 prayer. And such prayers had not been heard 
 in that church for many years. 
 
 A similar scene was witnessed near the 
 White River Junction railroad disaster in 1837, 
 in a church near the accident. The entire 
 morning service was given up to prayer, which 
 seemed the only healthy relief to people suffer- 
 ing from an overwhelming horror. 
 
 It was during the first pause that occurred 
 that James Caxton opened the door and gave a 
 note to some one in the back seat, with a re- 
 quest that it be sent up to Mr. Jones. He then 
 turned as if to go out, but hesitated, came back, 
 and slipped into a vacant seat and waited. Mr. 
 Jones received the note, glanced at its contents 
 and then rose. There was a singular emotion 
 in his voice as he spoke. 
 
 "I have just been handed a note from one oL*
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 143 
 
 our members, Mr. Robert Hardy, with the re- 
 qiiest that 1 read it aloud to the church to- 
 night : 
 
 "To you, my dear Pastor, and you, my Brothers 
 
 and Sisters in Christ: 
 
 "I suppose it is known to most of you that 
 three of my children were on the train during 
 the recent accident and two of them escaped 
 with but slight injuries. But my daughter 
 Clara was seriously injured by the shock, and I 
 am at this moment seated by her side, praying 
 that her reason may be spared and her possible 
 injuries prove to be within the region of cure. 
 I had planned to be with you to-night. I want- 
 ed to tell the church of the change that I have 
 lately experienced. I do not need to tell you 
 that for the twenty-five .years that I have been 
 a member of the cluirch I have been only a 
 member in name. I have seldom appeared in 
 any of the spiritual or devotional services of the 
 church. I have often sat in an attitude of criti- 
 cism to the best preaching. I have been a hard 
 man with those in my employ. I have been cold 
 and even revengeful towards other members of 
 this church. I have been a very proud, un- 
 Christian, selfish man. In the sight of God I 
 have been an altogether unworthy member of 
 the church of Christ. I do not take any pride 
 in making this confession, but I feel that it is 
 due to you. and something tells me I shall have 
 more peace of mind if I speak to you as I have 
 lately prayed to God.
 
 144 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "It is not necessary, neither have I time nor 
 strength, to tell you how I have been brought 
 to see my selfishness in all its enormity. It is 
 enough if I say to you that I most sincerely 
 believe that I have misunderstood very largely 
 the right meaning of human existence. I want 
 to pray with you and for you. You will let me 
 say this also, bearing with me, as this may be 
 my last opportunity to say to you what lies in 
 my heart : Serve the church of Christ, all you 
 who have taken upon you its vows, with enthu- 
 siasm and loyalty. Stand by the superintendent 
 of the Sunday-school, attend this week-night 
 service when you can, making it the most im- 
 portant service of the week, and, more than all, 
 live true, simple, loving, Christian lives every 
 day. It may seem strange that I am preaching 
 like this to you who have probably done your 
 duty far better than I ever did, but I wish to 
 say what lies deep in my heart to say to-night. 
 If there are any young men in the meeting to- 
 night, I want to say to them, become Christians 
 at the core! Not in name simply, as I have 
 been. And above all, kneel down every morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, and pray to God to keep 
 you from a selfish life such a life as I have 
 lived forgetful of church vows, of the rights 
 of the working poor, of the brother and sister 
 in Christ. Yes, I would be willing that any 
 youn? man might say, '0 Lord, keep me from 
 living as selfish, and useless, and proud a life as 
 Ttobert Hardy once lived/ For that is the truth. 
 l$o one but God knows how I have suffered at
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 115 
 
 the thought of the past ; how I am suffering at 
 the present moment. I pray that any who are 
 afflicted at this present time may find peace in 
 Him who bore the world's sorrows in His great 
 heart of love. If it were not for my faith in 
 my Savior at this time, I should be in despair. 
 As it is, I am suffering, but it is not the suffer- 
 ing which follows an eclipse of hope. I believe 
 in the eternal life, and in the forgiveness of 
 sins, yea, even such sins as mine have been. 
 Forgive so much about myself. It was necessary 
 under the circumstances. I ask your prayers 
 for me as your petitions go up for the afflicted 
 and repentant everywhere. I am your brother 
 in Christ, 
 
 "ROBERT HARDY." 
 
 The impression made by the reading of this 
 letter was profound. The stillness that fol- 
 lowed was death-like. Then one of the oldest 
 men in the room rose, and in a prayer of great 
 power prayed for the absent man and thanked 
 God for His guiding strength. The prayer was 
 followed by others, and then one and another 
 of the members who had not been on really 
 good terms with Mr. Hardy, rose and confessed 
 and asked forgiveness. The hearts of the peo- 
 ple were greatly moved. And Mr. Jones, con- 
 trary to his usual habit, asked, as the meeting
 
 1 16 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 drew to a close, if there were any present who 
 wanted to begin that Christian life at the core, 
 of which Mr. Hardy spoke. 
 
 U I see a number here not professing Chris- 
 tians. Are there any "who would like to say 
 that they want to become Christians, and will 
 try to live the Christ-life every day ?" 
 
 In the pause that followed, James Caxton, 
 who had been sitting in the back seat, felt as if 
 some power within and without him was forc- 
 ing him to his feet. He grasped his chair as 
 if to hold himself down. But the Holy Spirit 
 whispered to him, "Son, this will be the be- 
 ginning of a new life to thee." 
 
 And so James Caxton arose and said he 
 wanted to be a Christian; and from that mo- 
 ment, he dated his strong, consecrated life, a 
 life that bids fair to become famous in the 
 world yet, and his action was the beginning of 
 a new life in that church and community; but 
 wo cannot dwell on that in the course of this 
 story. Eobert Hardy! The good God is 
 blessing thee in this thy week of trial. For was 
 it not thy word that first started this young,
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 147 
 
 manly Bonl to consider what he owed to Jesus 
 the Christ? 
 
 To come back to Robert. He had written the 
 note, beginning it just a little after the bell 
 ceased ringing, and as he finished, James had 
 come over to see if he could be of any service. 
 The church was near by and Mr. Hardy asked 
 him to take the note over. He went over to 
 the church, with the result described. He did 
 not come back at once and Mr. Hardy watched 
 on with Alice. Will slept irregularly, being 
 troubled with his dreams of the accident. Mrs. 
 Hardy woke and begged her husband to lie 
 down and get a little rest. He did so, but was 
 roused about ten o'clock by the doctor coming 
 in. He had just finished a visit near by; he saw 
 the light and was anxious, as the case was an 
 extraordinary one, to come in. He examined 
 Clara's face very keenly, and then sat down by 
 the bed for an instant. After giving certain 
 medicines he found that he was in need of an- 
 other article which was at his house. 
 
 "I will go and get it, doctor. It's not far, 
 and 1 think a little fresh air will do me good
 
 148 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 and help me to remain awake better," said 
 Robert. 
 
 He went downstairs, and the doctor followed 
 him as he went out into the hall and flung on 
 his overcoat. Mr. Hardy turned before he 
 opened the door: 
 
 "Doctor, tell me the truth about my girl. 
 What is her condition ?" 
 
 "It is serious. But more than that I cannot 
 say. There is a possibility that by means of a 
 slight operation the disastrous consequences of 
 the shock to her eyes may be averted. And it 
 is possible that the other results of which I 
 hinted may be altogether different. It is not 
 in medical power to decide with certainty." 
 
 So Mr. Hardy went out into the night with 
 a glimmer of hope in his breast. It was snow- 
 ing again and a strong wind was blowing, so 
 that he buttoned his big coat close up, drew his 
 hat down over his brows, and leaning forward, 
 walked as rapidly as he could against the wind 
 iu the direction of the doctor's house. The 
 streets were almost deserted. The lights at the 
 corners flickered and showed pale through the
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 149 
 
 lamps. As he turned down a narrow street, in- 
 tending to make a short cut across a park that 
 lay near the doctor's, he was suddenly seized by 
 three or four young men, and one of them said 
 in a tone which betrayed a drunken debauch: 
 
 "Hold up your hands and deliver. You've 
 got plenty of chink and we haven't! So, no 
 squalling or we'll shoot you for it." 
 
 Mr. Hardy was taken completely by surprise. 
 But he was a vigorous, athletic man, and his 
 first impulse was to shake himself loose, to 
 knock down two of his assailants next to him 
 and make a run for it. His next glance, how- 
 ever, showed him the nature of the group of 
 young men. They were not professional rob- 
 bers, but young men about town who had been 
 drinking late, and were evidently out on a lark, 
 and were holding him up just for fun. Mr. 
 Hardy guessed exactly right. What could he 
 do? Two of the young men were known to 
 htm, the sons of the Bramleys who were well- 
 to-do people in Barton. Mr. Hardy's next im- 
 pulse was to discover himself to them and beg 
 them to quit such dangerous fooling and go
 
 150 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 home. The three other young men were in 
 shadow and he could not tell them. All this 
 passed through his thought with a flash. But 
 before he had time to do anything, a police 
 officer sprang out of a doorway near by, and 
 the group of young men dropping their hold of 
 Mr. Hardy, fled in difl'erent directions. The 
 officer made pursuit, and after a short run cap- 
 tured one of the young men and after a vigor- 
 ous resistance, dragged him back to where Mr. 
 Hardy stood, exclaiming: 
 
 "Here's one of the rascals, sir ! I heard 'em 
 when they held you up. We've been looking for 
 this gang some time now. Just identify this one 
 if he is the one that just now grabbed ye, sir." 
 
 Under the light of the lamp the policeman 
 dragged the form of his victim and roughly 
 struck up his hat. At that instant Mr. Hardy 
 looked into his face, and cried out, 
 
 "George! Is it you?" 
 
 And the son replied as he started back, 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 And the two looked at each other in silence,
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 151 
 
 while the snow fell in whirling flakes about 
 them. 
 
 And this was the end of Robert Hard/a 
 Third Day.
 
 152 Hobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FOURTH DAY THURSDAY. 
 
 Mr. Hardy looked at his son sternly, stand- 
 ing a little distance off as he had recoiled after 
 that first recognition of the boy. It would be 
 difficult to describe his emotions. He had 
 never been an affectionate father to his boys. 
 He had generally given them money when they 
 asked for it and had not questioned them about 
 its use. He was not familiar with his oldest 
 son's habits, and only within the last few days 
 had he known that he was what the age popu- 
 larly designates as "fast." He had never made 
 a companion of his son. He had not grown 
 up with him, so that now as he faced him under 
 the strange circumstances that had brought 
 them together, he was actually at a loss to know 
 what to do or say. The thought that his son 
 was guilty of a crime which might put him be- 
 hind prison bars did not yet occur to his mind. 
 He was only conscious of a great longing to get
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 153 
 
 back home and there have a thorough talk with 
 his boy, in the hope of winning him to better 
 things. But he must say something to George. 
 The police officer stared in wonder after the 
 first startled cry of "Father!" on the part of 
 the young man, but he did not loosen his hold 
 on him. He took an extra twist in the coat col- 
 lar of his captive, and looked sharply at Mr. 
 Hardy as much to say, "He may be your son, 
 but he's my victim, and I mean to keep a good 
 clutch on him/' 
 
 George was the first to speak. 
 
 "Father, you know I wouldn't do such a 
 thing, really. We were only out for a little 
 fun. We didn't know you, of course. We didn't 
 mean any real harm. We were only fooling." 
 
 "It was dangerous fooling," replied his 
 father. He still stood apart from the boy and 
 spoke quietly, but his face was pale and his 
 heart was wrung with torture for his first born. 
 Ah! How careless of him he had been! How 
 little companionship the two had had! How 
 very little help the boy had received from the 
 man! And now, believing that only four more
 
 154 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 days lay before him to use to the glory of God, 
 Robert Hardy felt the sting of that bitterest of 
 all bitter feelings, useless regret, the regret 
 that does not carry with it any hope of redeem- 
 ing a selfish past. 
 
 After his father had spoken, George sullenly 
 remained silent. Mr. Hardy bowed his head 
 and seemed thinking. The officer who had 
 been waiting for another move on the part of 
 the older man said, 
 
 "Well, we must be moving on. It's warmer 
 in the lockup than out here; so come along, 
 young fellow, and do your talking to-morrow 
 morning with the rest of the drunks and dis- 
 orderlies." 
 
 "Stop!" cried Robert Hardy. "This is my 
 son! Do you understand? What are you go- 
 ing to do?" 
 
 "Well, governor, that's a pretty question at 
 this time o' day. Do! I'm going to jug him 
 for assault with intent to commit highway rob- 
 bery. It's an affair for the pen, 1 can teil you." 
 
 "But you heard him say it was all a joke." 
 
 "A pretty joke to try to hold a man up on
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 155 
 
 the highway and demand his money! Oh, no! 
 That's carrying a joke too far. I'm bound to 
 obey orders. We've been after this gang of 
 young chaps for a month now." 
 
 "But, officer, you don't understand. This is 
 my son." 
 
 "Well, what of that? Don't we jug sons 
 every day for some deviltry or another? Do 
 yov. suppose you are the only father whose son 
 is going to the devil !" 
 
 "0 God, no!" cried Mr. Hardy, with sudden 
 passion. "But this is my oldest boy. It would 
 kill his mother to have him arrested and put in 
 jail for trying to rob his own father. And yet 
 he was once innocent what am I saying? He 
 might be now if I had done my duty." 
 
 Mr. Hardy confronted the officer with a cer- 
 tain sorrowful dignity which even that harden- 
 ed defender of the law understood. 
 
 "Officer, let the boy go. I will answer for it 
 if any blame falls on you for it. He was not 
 at fault in this matter. He was not the one 
 who assaulted me. He did not touch me. You 
 could not get a particle of testimony against
 
 150 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 him. And besides that, it is necessary that he 
 return with me. This is a case for the law of 
 God. This belongs to a higher court." 
 
 The officer hesitated. Mr. Hardy stepped 
 nearer his son. 
 
 "George," he said as if forgetting for a mo- 
 ment that the officer was present, "did you 
 know that Clara and Bess and Will were in the 
 accident last night?" 
 
 George turned pale and tremblingly replied, 
 "No, father. Were they hurt? Was Bess" 
 The boy seemed moved as his father had not 
 yet seen him. 
 
 "No, they were not, that is Bess was not hurt 
 at all. But Will was severely bruised, and Clara 
 still lies in a state of stupor or unconsciousness 
 and we do not know what the end will be. I 
 was on my way just now to get some needed 
 articles from the doctor's house. You must come 
 back with me. The law has no hold on you." 
 
 "Maybe the law hasn't any hold on him, but 
 Michael Finnerty has. I don't just like the idea,
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 157 
 
 Mister Man, of letting the boy go yet," replied 
 the stubborn and unusually dutiful officer. 
 
 Mr. Hardy began to appeal to the man's love 
 of his own children. It did not seem to move 
 him in the least, until he mentioned the fact 
 that it was cruelty to keep the suffering girl at 
 home waiting for her father's return. Mr. Fin- 
 nerty finally loosened his hold on George and 
 paid slowly and painfully, "An' if I lose me 
 job I'll be knowin' who was to blame for it. I 
 always told Michael Finnerty that he was too 
 soft-hearted to go on the force !" 
 
 "You won't suffer, officer. Many thanks. 
 Come, George." 
 
 And father and son moved off together, while 
 the defender of the law stood irresolute, watch- 
 ing them disappear through the storm, and 
 muttering to himself, "I'm a soft-hearted fool. 
 I ought to a-been born a female hospital nurse, 
 I had." 
 
 During that walk home, after Mr. Hardy had 
 gone around by the doctor's with George, not 
 a word was exchanged. The storm was increas- 
 ing. The two walked along in silence. But
 
 158 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 when George walked into the hall at home he 
 turned and saw a look on his father's face that 
 smote him to the heart, for he was not yet a 
 hardened soul. Mr. Hardy had lived years in 
 that experience. Xo one could tell how his 
 heart had been tortured by what he had en- 
 dured that night. But the mark of it was 
 stamped physically on his face, and he knew 
 he would bear it to his grave. 
 
 Mrs. Hardy came running downstairs as the 
 two came in, and as George turned and faced 
 her she held out her arms crying, "My boy! 
 My boy! We have been so anxious about you!'' 
 
 What! not one word of reproach, of rebuke, 
 of question as to what he had been doing all 
 this time that the family had been suffering! 
 Xo, not one word. Ah, mother love! It is the 
 most wonderful thing on earth, next to the love 
 of God for the sinner. And it is even that, for it 
 is the love of God expressing itself through the 
 mother who is the temple of the loving God. 
 
 George dashed away a tear, and then going 
 up to his mother laid his cheek against hers, 
 and she folded her arms about him and cried
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. lo!) 
 
 a little and asked no questions. And after a 
 moment's silence he stammered out a feu-- 
 words of sorrow at having caused her pain, and 
 she joyfully accepted his broken explanation of 
 how he had not known of the accident to Clara 
 and the others. It was true he had gone out 
 the evening before, fully intending to go down 
 to the scene of the accident, but coming across 
 some of his old companions he had gone off 
 with them, and spent the night in a disgrace- 
 ful carouse, and throughout the day had beon 
 under the influence of liquor, more or less dimly 
 conscious that a great disaster had happened 
 down the road, but not enough sober to realize 
 its details or its possible connection with those 
 of his own home. The sudden meeting with 
 his father had startled him out of the drowsy 
 intoxication he had fallen into as the day pro- 
 gressed. And now as he felt his mother's arms 
 around him and realized a little what the family 
 had been called upon to endure, he felt the 
 shame and disgrace of his own conduct. 
 
 Mr. Hardy went upstairs and consulted with 
 the doctor, who wondered at his protracted
 
 160 liobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 absence. There was no change in Clara yet. 
 She lay in a condition which could not be 
 called a trance nor a sleep. She did not seem 
 to be in any great pain. But she was uncon- 
 scious of all outside conditions. After a little 
 talk with his mother, George came up and in- 
 quired after Bess and Will. They were both 
 sleeping, and after the doctor had gone out the 
 father and mother and son sat down together 
 in the room where Clara lay. Mr. Hardy did 
 not say a word to George about the incident of 
 the evening. The shame of it was too great 
 yet. When men of Mr. Hardy's self-contained, 
 repressed, proud nature are pained, it is an in- 
 tense inward fire of passion that cannot bear 
 to break out into words. George had sense 
 enough to offer to relieve his parents of the 
 burden of watching during the night, and dur- 
 ing the exchange of watches along towards 
 morning, as Mrs. Hardy slipped into the room 
 to relieve the boy, she found him kneeling down 
 at a couch with his face buried in the cushions. 
 She raised her face in thanksgiving to God and 
 went softly out.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 161 
 
 The morning dawned gray with snow which 
 Mill whirled in wreaths about the sorrowing 
 homes of Barton, but Robert Hardy thought of 
 the merciful covering it would make for the 
 ghastly piles of ruin down under the bridge and 
 along the banks of the river. He said to him- 
 self, "This is my fourth day; how can I best 
 spend it? What shall I do?" He kneeled and 
 prayed, and rose somewhat refreshed. The fore- 
 noon went rapidly by, and before he knew it 
 noon was near. The time had passed in watch- 
 ing Clara, visiting with Bess and Will and doing 
 some necessary work for the company in his 
 little office downstairs. He did not feel like 
 saying anything to George yet. James Caxton 
 had been in, and the first thing he had men- 
 tioned had been his own act in the meeting the 
 night before. Mr. Hardy thanked God for it, 
 and the prayer went out of his heart for his 
 own son that the Spirit might touch him in his 
 sin and bring him into the light of Christ. A 
 little after noon the storm cleared up and Rob- 
 ert prepared to go down to the shops. Clara 
 had not yet come out of her stupor. The doctor
 
 162 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 > 
 
 had called and done what he could. There was 
 nothing in particular that Mr. Hardy could do 
 in the case, so he went out about one o'clock 
 and entered his office at the shops, hoping as 
 he went in that he would have no trouble with 
 the men. 
 
 Mr. Burns reported everything quiet, and the 
 manager with a sigh of relief proceeded with 
 the routine duties of the business. Nothing of 
 any special interest occurred through the after- 
 noon. The storm had ceased entirely and the 
 sun had come out clear and warm. People were 
 clearing off the walks, and the ringing of sleigh- 
 bells was distinct in the office, even over the 
 incessant hum of the big engine. Towards 
 three o'clock, one of Mr. Hardy's old friends, 
 an officer of the road, came in and said there 
 was a general movement on foot through Bar- 
 ton to hold a monster mass-meeting in the 
 Town Hall for the benefit of the sufferers, both 
 in the railroad accident and in the explosion 
 of the Sunday before in the shops. It was true 
 the company would settle for damages, but in 
 many cases through Barton the adjustment of
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 163 
 
 claims would not be made until much suffering 
 and hardship had been endured. There was a 
 common feeling on the part of the towns-people 
 that a meeting for piiblic conference would re- 
 sult in much good, and there was also, as has 
 been the case in other large horrors, a craving 
 to relieve the strain of feeling by public gath- 
 ering and consultation. 
 
 "Can you come out to the meeting, Hardy ?" 
 asked his friend. 
 
 Mr. Hardy thought a minute and replied, 
 "Yes, I think I can." Already an idea had 
 taken shape in his mind which he could not 
 help feeling was inspired by God. 
 
 "Might be a good thing if you could come 
 prepared to make some remarks. I find there 
 is a disposition on the part of the public to 
 charge the road with carelessness and misman- 
 agement." 
 
 "I'll say a word or two," replied Mr. Hardy, 
 and after a brief talk on business matters his 
 friend went out. 
 
 Robert immediately sat down to his desk and 
 for an hour, interrupted only by an occasional
 
 10-1 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 item of business brought to him by his secre- 
 tary, he jotted down copious notes. The 
 thought which had come to him when his friend 
 suggested the meeting was this: He would go 
 and utter a message that burned within him, 
 a message which the events of the past few 
 days made imperative should be uttered. He 
 went home absorbed in the great id r ~i. He had 
 once in his younger days been famous for his 
 skill in debate. He had no fear of his power 
 to deliver a message of life at the present crisis 
 in his own. He at once spoke of the "aeeting to 
 his wife. 
 
 "Mary, what do you say ? I know every min- 
 ute is precious. I owe to you and these dear 
 ones at home a very sacred duty. But no less 
 it seems to me is my duty to the society where 
 I have lived all these years, doing literally noth- 
 ing for its uplift towards God who gave us all 
 life and power. I feel as if He would put a 
 message into my mouth that would prove a 
 blessing to this community. It seems to me 
 this special opportunity is providential." 
 
 "Robert," replied his wife smiling at him
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 165 
 
 through happy tears, "it is the will of God. Do 
 your duty as he makes it clear to you." 
 
 It had been an agitating week to the wife. 
 She anticipated its close with a feeling akin to 
 terror. What would the end be ? She was com- 
 pelled to say to herself that her husband was 
 not insane. But the thought that he was really 
 to be called out of the world in some mysterious 
 manner at the end of the rapidly approaching 
 Sunday, had several times come over her with 
 a power that threatened her own reason. 
 Nevertheless the week so far, in spite of its ter- 
 ror and agitation, had a sweet joy for her. Her 
 husband had come back to her, the lover as he 
 once had been, only with the added tenderness 
 of all the years of their companionship. She 
 thanked the Father for it, and when the hour 
 came for Robert to go down to the meeting, she 
 blessed him and prayed heaven to make his 
 words to the people like the words of God. 
 
 "Father, what do you want me to do? Shall 
 I stay here ?" asked George who had not stirred 
 out of the house all day. He had watched by 
 Clara faithfully. She was still in that myster-
 
 16G Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 ions condition of unconsciousness which made 
 her case so puzzling to the doctor. 
 
 Mr. Hardy hesitated a moment, then said, 
 "No, George, I would like to have you go with 
 me. Alice can do all that is necessary. But let 
 us all pray together now before we go out. The 
 Lord is leading us mysteriously, but we shall 
 sometime know the reason why." 
 
 So in the room where Clara lay, they all 
 kneeled down except Will who lay upon a 
 lounge near his unconscious sister, and Mr. 
 Hardy, as he clasped his wife's hand in his own, 
 poured out his soul in this petition : 
 
 "Dear Lord, we know Thou dost love us even, 
 though we cannot always know why Thou dost 
 allow suffering and trouble. And we would 
 thank Thee for the things that cannot be de- 
 stroyed, for the love that cannot suffer death, 
 for the wonderful promises of the life to come. 
 Only we have been so careless of the things that 
 belong to Thy kingdom ! We have been so self- 
 ish and forgetful of the great needs, and suf- 
 ferings, and sins, of earth. Pardon us, gracious 
 Redeemer! Pardon me, for I am the chief of-
 
 liobert Hardy's Seven Days. 167 
 
 fender! Yea, Lord, even as the robber on the 
 cross was welcomed into Paradise, welcome 
 Thou me. But we pray for our dear ones. May 
 they recover. Make this beloved one who now 
 lies unknowing of us, to come back into the 
 universe of sense and sound, to know us and 
 smile upon us again. We say, 'Thy will be 
 done.' Grant wisdom, for Thou knowest best, 
 only our hearts will cry out for help and Thou 
 knowest our hearts better than anyone else. 
 And bless me this night as I stand before the 
 people. This is no selfish prayer, dear Lord. 
 I desire only Thy glory. I pray only for Thy 
 kingdom. But Thou hast appointed my days 
 to live. Thou hast sent me the message and I 
 cannot help feeling the solemn burden and joy 
 of it. I will say to the people that Thou art 
 still most important of all in this habitation of 
 the flesh. And now bless us all. Give us new 
 hearts. Make us to feel the true meaning of 
 existence here. Reveal to us Thy splendor. 
 Forgive all the past and make impossible in the 
 children the mistakes of the parent. Deliver
 
 ]68 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 us from evil, and Thine shall be the kingdom 
 forever. Amen." 
 
 When Mr. Hardy and George reached the 
 Town Hall they found a large crowd gathering. 
 They had some difficulty in gaining entrance, 
 and Mr. Hardy at once passed up to the plat- 
 form where the chairman of the meeting greet- 
 ed him and said he would expect him to make 
 some remarks during the evening. Robert sat 
 down at one end of the platform and watched 
 the hall fill with people, nearly all well known 
 to him. There was an unusually large crowd 
 of boys and young men, besides a large gather- 
 ing of his own men from the shops, together 
 with a great number of citizens and business- 
 men, a representative audience for the place, 
 brought together under the influence of the 
 disaster and feeling somewhat the breaking 
 down of artificial social distinctions in the pres- 
 ence of the grim leveler, Death, who. had come 
 so near to them the last few days. 
 
 There were the usual opening exercises com- 
 mon to such public gatherings. Several well- 
 known business men and two or three of the
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. ICO 
 
 ministers, including Mr. Jones, made appro- 
 priate addresses. The attention of the great 
 audience was not labored for. The occasion it- 
 self was enough to throw over the people the 
 spell of subdued quiet. When the chairman 
 announced that "Mr. Robert Hardy, our well 
 known railroad manager, will now address us," 
 there was a movement of curiosity and some 
 surprise, and many a man leaned forward and 
 wondered in his heart what the wealthy rail- 
 road man would have to say on such an occa- 
 sion. He had never appeared as a speaker in 
 public, and he passed generally in Barton for 
 the cold, selfish, haughty man he had always 
 been.
 
 170 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FIFTH DAY FRIDAY. 
 
 Mr. Hardy began in a low, clear tone : 
 ''Men and women of Barton, to-night I am 
 not the man you have known me these twenty- 
 five years I have been among you. I am, by 
 the grace of God, a new creature. As I stand 
 here I have no greater desire in my heart than 
 to say what may prove to be a blessing to all 
 my old townspeople and to my employes and to 
 these strong young men and boys. Within a 
 few short days God has shown me the selfish- 
 ness of a human being's heart, and that heart 
 was my own. And it is with feelings none of 
 you can ever know that I look into your faces 
 and say these words." 
 
 Robert paused a moment as if gathering him- 
 self up for the effort that followed, and the 
 audience, startled with an unexpected emotion 
 by the strange beginning, thrilled with excite- 
 ment, as, lifting his arm and raising his voice,
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 17 L 
 
 the once cold and proud man exclaimed, as his 
 face and form glowed with the transfiguration 
 of a new manhood, 
 
 "There is but one supreme law in this world, 
 and it is this: Love God and your neighbor 
 with heart, mind, soul, strength. And there 
 arc but two things worth living for: the glory 
 o God, and the salvation of man. To-night, I 
 who look into eternity in a sense which I will 
 not stop to explain, feel the bitterness which, 
 conies from the knowledge that I have broken 
 that law and have not lived for those things 
 which alone are worth living for. But God 
 sent me here to-night with a message to the 
 people which my heart must deliver. It is a 
 duty even more sacred in some ways than what 
 I owe to my own kindred. I am aware that the 
 hearts of the people are shocked into numbness 
 by the recent horror. I know that more than 
 one bleeding heart is in this house and the 
 shadow of the last enemy has fallen over many 
 thresholds in our town. What ! did I not enter 
 into the valley of the shadow of death myself 
 as I stumbled over the ghastly ruins of that
 
 172 Robert Hardy.'s Seven Days. 
 
 wreck, my soul torn in twain for the love of 
 three of my own dear children ? Do I not sym- 
 pathize in full with all those who bitterly weep 
 and lament and sit in blackness of horror this 
 night ? Yea, but men of Barton, why is it that 
 we are so moved, so stirred, so shocked by the 
 event of death, when the far more awful event 
 of life does not disturb us in the least? We 
 shudder with terror, we lose our accustomed 
 pride or indifference, we speak in whispers and 
 we tread softly in the presence of the visitor 
 who smites but once and then smites the body 
 only; but in the awful presence of that living 
 image of God we go our ways careless, indiffer- 
 ent, cold, passionless, selfish. 
 
 "I know whereof I speak, for I have walked 
 through the world like that myself. And yet 
 death cannot be compared for one moment with 
 life for majesty, for solemnity, for meaning, for 
 power. There were seventy-five persons killed 
 in the accident. But in the papers this morn- 
 ing I read in the column next to that in which 
 the accident was paraded, in small type, and in 
 the briefest of paragraphs the statement that
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 173 
 
 a certain young man in this very town of ours 
 had been arrested for forging his father's name 
 on a check, and was a fugitive from the law, 
 and every day in this town, and in every town 
 all over the world events like that and worse 
 than that are of frequent occurrence. Nay, in 
 this very town of ours, more than seventy-five 
 souls are at this very moment going down into 
 a far blacker hell of destruction than the one 
 down there under that fated bridge, and the 
 community is not horrified over it. How many 
 mass meetings have been held in this town with- 
 in the last twenty-five years over the losses of 
 character, the death of purity, the destruction 
 of honesty? And yet they have outnumbered 
 the victims of this late physical disaster a thou- 
 sand fold^ And what does mere death do ? It 
 releases the spirit from its house of earth. But 
 aside from that, death does nothing to the per- 
 son. But what does life do? Life does every- 
 thing. It prepares for heaven or for hell. It 
 starts impulses, moulds character, fixes char- 
 acter. Death has no kingdom without end. 
 Death is only the last enemy of the many ene-
 
 174 Koberl Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 mies that life knows. Death is a second. Life 
 is an eternity. men, brothers, if, as I sol- 
 emnly and truly believe, this is the last oppor- 
 tunity I shall have to speak to you in such large 
 numbers, I desire you to remember when I have 
 vanished from your sight that I spent nearly 
 my last breath in an appeal to you to make the 
 most of daily life, to glorify God and save men. 
 "The greatest enemy of man is not death, it 
 is selfishness. He sits on the throne of the en- 
 tire world. This very disaster which has filled 
 the town with sorrow was due to selfishness. 
 Let us see if that is not so. It has been proved 
 by investigation already made, that the drunk- 
 enness of a track inspector was the cause of the 
 accident. What was the cause of that drunk- 
 enness? The drinking habits of that inspector! 
 And how did he acquire them? In a saloon 
 which we tax-payers allow to run on payment 
 of a certain sum of money into our town treas- 
 ury. So, then, it was the greed or selfishness 
 of the men of this town which lies at the bot- 
 tom of this dreadful disaster. Who was to 
 blame for the disaster? The track inspector?
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 175 
 
 Xo ! The saloonkeeper who sold him the liquor? 
 No! Who then? We ourselves, my brothers; 
 we who licensed the selling of the stuff which 
 turned a man's brain into liquid fire and smote 
 his judgment and reason with a brand from out 
 the burning pit. If I had stumbled upon the 
 three corpses of my own children night before 
 last, I could have exclaimed in justice before 
 the face of God, 'I have murdered my own chil- 
 dren, for I was one of the men of Barton to vote 
 for the license which made possible the drunk- 
 enness of the man into whose care were placed 
 hundreds of lives.' 
 
 "For what is the history of this case? Who 
 was this wretched track inspector? A man 
 who, to my own knowledge, trembled before 
 temptation, who on the testimony of the fore- 
 man at the shops was, and always had been, a 
 sober man up to the time when we as a munic- 
 ipality voted to replace the system of no license 
 with the saloon, for the sake of what we 
 thought was a necessary revenue. This man 
 had no great tempation to drink while the 
 baloon was out of the way. Its very absence
 
 170 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 was his salvation. But its public open return 
 confronted his appetite once more, and he yield- 
 ed and fell. Who says he was to blame? Who 
 are the real criminals in the case? We our- 
 selves, citizens, we who for the greed of gain, 
 for the saving of that which has destroyed more 
 souls in hell than any other one thing, made 
 possible the causes which led to the grief and 
 trouble of this hour. Would we not shrink in 
 terror from the thought of lying in wait to 
 kill a man? Would we not repel with holy 
 horror the idea of murdering and maiming 
 seventy-five people? We would say 'impossi- 
 ble !' And yet, when I am ushered at last into 
 the majestic presence of Almighty God, I feel 
 convinced I shall see in His righteous counten- 
 ance the sentence of our condemnation just as 
 certain as if we had gone out in a body and by 
 wicked craft had torn up the supporting tim- 
 bers of that bridge just before the train thun- 
 dered upon it. For did we not sanction by law 
 a business which we know tempts men to break 
 all the laws, which fills our jails and poor- 
 houses, our reformatories and asylums, which
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 177 
 
 breaks women's hearts, and beggars blessed 
 homes, and sends innocent children to tread 
 the paths of shame and vagrancy, which brings 
 pallor into the face of the wife and tosses with 
 the devil's own glee a thousand victims into 
 perdition with every revolution of this great 
 planet about its greater sun? 
 
 "Men of Barton, say what we will, we are 
 the authors of this dreadful disaster. And if 
 we sorrow as a community, we sorrow in real- 
 ity for our own selfish act. And oh, the selfish- 
 ness of it! That clamoring greed for money! 
 That burning thirst for more, and more, and 
 more, at the expense of every God-like quality, 
 at the ruin of all that our mothers once prayed 
 might belong to us as men and women. What 
 is it, ye merchants, ye business men, here to- 
 night, that ye struggle most over? The one 
 great aim of your lives is to buy for as little as 
 possible and sell for as much as possible. What 
 care have ye for the poor who work at worse 
 than starvation wages, so long as ye can buy 
 cheap and sell at large profits? What is the 
 great aim of us railroad men in the great whirl
 
 178 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 of commercial competition which seethes and 
 boils and surges about this earth like another 
 atmosphere, plainly visible to the devils of other 
 worlds ? What is our aim but to make money 
 our god, and power our throne? How much 
 care or love is there for flesh and blood at times 
 when there is danger of losing almighty dollars ? 
 But Almighty. Savior! It was not for this 
 that we were made ! We know it was not. 
 
 "To whom am I speaking ? To myself. God 
 forbid that I should stand here to condemn you, 
 being myself the chief of sinners for these 
 twenty-five years. What have I done to bless 
 this community? How much have I cared for 
 the men in my employ? What difference did it 
 make to me that my example drove men away 
 from the church of Christ and caused anguish 
 to those few souls who were trying to redeem 
 humanity? To my just shame I make answer 
 that no one thing has driven the engine of my 
 existence over the track of its destiny except 
 self. And oh, for that church of Christ that I 
 professed to believe in ! How much have I done 
 for that? How much, fellow-members (and
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 17!) 
 
 I see many of you here to-night), how much 
 have we done in the best cause ever known, and 
 the greatest organization ever founded for the 
 purpose of redeeming the earth? We go to 
 church after reading the Sunday morning 
 paper, saturated through and through with the 
 same things we have had poured into us every 
 day of the week, as if we begrudged the whole 
 of one day out of seven, and we criticize prayer 
 and hymn and sermon and think we have done 
 our duty as Christians, dropping into the con- 
 tribution box half the amount we paid during 
 the week for a theatre or concert ticket, and 
 then when anything goes wrong in the com- 
 munity, or our children fall into vice, scoring 
 the church for weakness and the preacher for 
 lack of ability. Shame on us, men of Barton, 
 members of the church of Christ, that we have 
 so neglected our own church prayer meeting, 
 that out of a resident membership of more 
 than four hundred, living in easy distance 
 of the church, only sixty have attended 
 regularly and over two hundred have been 
 to that service only occasionally. And yet,
 
 180 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 \ve call ourselves disciples of Christ. We 
 say wo believe in His blessed teachings. We 
 say we believe in prayer. And in the face 
 of all these professions we turn our backs with 
 indifference on the very means of spiritual 
 growth and power which the church places 
 within our reach. If Christ were to come to 
 the earth to-day he would say unto us, 'Woe 
 unto you, church members, hypocrites!' He 
 would say unto us, 'Woe unto you, young dis- 
 ciples in name, who have promised to love and 
 serve me and then, ashamed of testifying before 
 men, have broken promise and prayer, and ridi- 
 cule those who have kept their vows sacredly!' 
 He would say to us men who have made money 
 and kept it to ourselves, 'Woe unto you, ye 
 rich men, who dress softly and dine luxuriously 
 and live in palaces while the poor cry aloud 
 for judgment and the laborer sweats for the 
 luxury of the idle. Woe unto you who specu- 
 late in flesh and blood, and call no man brother 
 unless he lives in as fine a house and has as 
 much money in the bank. Therefore ye shall 
 receive the greater condemnation!'
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 181 
 
 "0 self! God of the earth yet! With two 
 thousand years of the Son of God written into 
 its history, still goes up the cry of those who 
 perish with hunger, who break into the sanc- 
 tuary of their souls, because they cannot get 
 work to do and are weary of the struggle of ex- 
 istence. Self! Thou art king. Not Jesus 
 Christ yet. But oh, for the shame of it! The 
 shame of it ! Were it not for the belief in the 
 mighty forgiveness of sins I would stand here 
 to-night with no hope of ever seeing the para- 
 dise of God. But resting in that hope I wish 
 to say to you who have beheld the example of 
 iny selfish life, I repudiate it all. In the world 
 I have passed as a moral citizen and a good 
 business man. In society there has been no 
 objection to my presence, on account of my 
 wealth and position. In the church I have been 
 tolerated because I gave it financial support. 
 But in the sight of that perfect Crucified Lamb 
 of God I have broken the two greatest laws 
 "which He ever announced, I have been a sinner 
 of the deepest dye. I have been everything ex- 
 cept a disciple of Jesus Christ. I have prayed for
 
 162 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 mercy. I believe rny prayer has been answered. 
 I am conscious that some here present may 
 think that what I have said has been in poor 
 taete, or that it has been an affront to the ob- 
 ject of the meeting or an insult to the feelings 
 of those who have called the audience together. 
 "In order that the people may know that I 
 am sincere in all I have said, I will say that I 
 have placed in the bank the sum of $10,000 to 
 be used as the committee may deem wisest and 
 best in the education of children in bereaved 
 homes or in any way that shall be for the best 
 good of those in need. This money is God's. 
 I have robbed Him and my brother man :>.!! 
 these years. Whatever restitution I can make 
 in the next few days I desire to make. But the 
 great question with us all, my friends, is not 
 this particular disaster. That will in time take 
 its place as one event out of thousands in the 
 daily life of this world. The great event of 
 existence is not death, it is life. And the great 
 question of the world is not the tariff, nor the 
 silver question, nor the labor question, nor tem- 
 perance, nor this and that and the other. The
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 133 
 
 great question of the whole world is Selfishness 
 in the heart of man. The great command is, 
 'Seek ye first the Kingdom of God.' If we had 
 done that in this town I believe such a physical 
 disaster as the one we lament would never have 
 happened. That is our great need. If we go 
 home from this meeting resolved to rebuke our 
 selfishness in whatever form it is displeasing 
 to God, and if we begin to-morrow to act out 
 that resolution in word and deed, we shall revo- 
 lutionize this town in its business, its politics, 
 its church, its schools, its homes. If we simply 
 allow our emotions to be stirred, our sympathies 
 to be excited to the giving of a little money on 
 this occasion, it will do us and the community 
 little permanent good. God wants a complete 
 transformation in the people of this nation. 
 Nothing less than a complete regeneration can 
 save us from destruction. TJnconsecrated, self- 
 ish money, and selfish education, and selfish 
 
 political power, and selfish genius in art, letters 
 
 , 
 
 and diplomacy will sink us as a people into a 
 gulf of annihilation. There is no salvation for
 
 184 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 us except in Jesus Christ. Let us believe ID 
 Him and live in Him. 
 
 "I have said my message. I trust you have 
 understood it. I would not say otherwise if I 
 knew that I would step off this platform now 
 and stand before the judgment seat of Christ. 
 God help us all to do our duty. Time is short, 
 eternity is long. Death is nothing. Life is 
 everything." 
 
 Five years after this speech of Robert Hardy 
 to the people of Barton in the Town Hall, one 
 who was present in the audience described the 
 sensation that passed through it when the 
 speaker sat down, to be like a distinct electric 
 shock which passed from seat to seat, and held 
 the people fixed and breathless there as if they 
 had been smitten into images of stone. The 
 effect on the chairman of the meeting was the 
 same. He sat motionless. Then a wave of 
 emotion gradually stirred the audience, and 
 without a word of dismission they poured out 
 of the building and scattered to their homes. 
 
 Robert found George waiting for him. The 
 father was almost faint with the reaction from
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 185 
 
 his address. George gave his arm and the two 
 walked home in silence. 
 
 We must pass over hastily the events of the 
 next day in Robert Hardy's life. The whole 
 town was talking about his surprising address 
 of the night before. Some thought he was 
 crazy. Others regarded him as sincere, but after 
 the first effect of his speech had worn off they 
 criticized him severely for presuming to preach 
 on such an occasion. Still others were puzzled 
 to account for the change in the man, for that 
 a change had taken place could not be denied. 
 How slow men are to acknowledge the power of 
 God in the human heart! Mr. Hardy went 
 about his business, very little moved by all this 
 discussion. He realized that only two more days 
 remained. He spent the afternoon and evening 
 at home but was interrupted by several calls. 
 After tea the entire family gathered in the 
 room where Clara lay. She still remained un- 
 conscious, but living. As Mrs. Hardy was say- 
 ing something to her husband about his dream 
 and the events of the day before, Clara sud-
 
 186 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Eerily opened her eyes, and distinctly called out 
 the words, 
 
 "Father! What day is it?" 
 
 It was like a voice out of the long dead past. 
 Mr. Hardy, sitting by the side of the bed, re- 
 plied quietly, while his heart beat quick, 
 
 "This is Friday night, dear child." 
 
 Another question came, uttered in the same 
 strange voice, 
 
 "Father, how many more days are left for 
 you ?" 
 
 "To-morrow and Sunday." 
 
 The voice came again. 
 
 "I shall go with you then." 
 
 The eyes closed and the form became mo- 
 tionless as before. It was very quiet in the 
 room at the close of Robert Hardy's Fifth Day.
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE SIXTH DAY SATURDAY. 
 
 Those words of Clara's, "I shall go with you 
 then," filled the family with dismay. Mr. 
 Hardy bowed his head and groaned. Mrs. 
 Hardy, almost beside herself with grief and 
 terror, flew to the side of the girl, and with be- 
 seeching cries and caresses tried to bring back 
 to consciousness the mind that for a moment 
 or two had gleamed with reason and then had 
 gone back into the obscurity and oblivion of 
 that mysterious condition in which it had been 
 lying for three days. But all in vain. The eyes 
 were closed. The form was rigid. The others, 
 George and Will and Bess, grew pale, and Bess 
 cried almost for the first time since the strange 
 week began. Robert was first to break the 
 grief with a quiet word. He raised his head, 
 saying, 
 
 "I do not believe Clara is going to die when 
 I do/'
 
 188 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "Why, father, what makes you think that?" 
 cried Alice. 
 
 "I don't know; I can't give any exact reason. 
 1 only know I don't believe it will happen." 
 
 "God grant that she may be spared to us!" 
 said Mrs. Hardy. "0 Robert, it is more than I 
 can bear ! Only to-day and to-morrow left. It 
 can't be real. I have battled against your 
 dream all the week. It was a dream only. I 
 will not believe it. You are not ill. There is 
 no indication that you are going to die. I 
 will not, I cannot, believe it ! God is too good. 
 And we need you now, Robert. Let us pray 
 God for mercy." 
 
 Robert shook his head sadly but firmly. 
 
 "No, Mary, I cannot resist an impression so 
 strong that I cannot call it anything but u 
 conviction of reality that somehow, in some 
 way, I shall be called away from you Sunday 
 night. I have struggled against it, but it grows 
 upon me even more firmly. God is merciful. I 
 do not question His goodness. How much did 
 I deserve even this week of preparation after 
 the life I have lived ? And the time will not be
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 18!> 
 
 long before we shall all meet there. God grant 
 that it may be an unbroken company." Mr. 
 Hardy spoke as any one in his condition could. 
 The children drew about him lovingly. BeS 
 climbed into his lap. She laid her face against 
 her father's face, and the strong man sobbed 
 as he thought of all the years of neglected af- 
 fection in that family circle. The rest of the 
 evening was spent in talking over the probable 
 future. George, who seemed thoroughly hum- 
 bled now, listened respectfully and even tear- 
 fully to his father's counsel concerning the di- 
 rection of business and family matters. The 
 boy was going through a struggle with himself 
 which was apparent to all in the house. Ever 
 since his mother had seen him kneeling down 
 in the night-watch, he had shown a different 
 spirit. It remained to be seen whether he had 
 really changed, or whether he had been for the 
 time being frightened into a little goodness. 
 
 Saturday morning found the Hardy s weary 
 with the agitation of the week, but bearing 
 about a strange excitement which only the pros- 
 pect of the father's approaching death or re-
 
 100 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 moval could have produced. Kobert could not 
 realize that his week was almost at an end. 
 Why, it seemed but yesterday that he had 
 dreamed after the Sunday evening service! As 
 on every other day, he asked himself the ques- 
 tion, "What shall I do ?" Only until he had 
 prayed could he answer the question. Then the 
 light came. Who says prayer is merely a form ? 
 It is going to God for wisdom and getting it. 
 It is crying out for light, and lo ! the darkness 
 flees. It is spreading out our troubles and our 
 joys and our perplexities and our needs, and 
 finding God Himself the best possible answer 
 to them all. Robert Hardy was finding this out 
 lately, and it was the one thing that made pos- 
 sible to him the calmness of the last two days 
 allotted him. 
 
 The day was spent in much the same way 
 that the other days had been spent. He went 
 down to his office about ten o'clock, and after 
 coming home to lunch went down again, with 
 the intention of getting through all the busi- 
 ness and returning home to spend the rest of 
 the time with the family. Along towards three
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 191 
 
 o'clock, when the routine work of the shops 
 was disposed of, the manager felt an irresistible 
 desire to speak to the men in his employ. They 
 numbered about eight hundred in his depart- 
 ment, and he knew how impossible it would be 
 for him to speak to them individually. He 
 thought a minute and then called Burns in and 
 gave an order that made the foreman stare in 
 the most undisguised wonder. 
 
 ''Shut down the works for a little while, and 
 ask the men to get together in the big machine 
 shop. I want to speak to them." 
 
 Burns had been astonished so often this week 
 that although he had opened his mouth to say 
 something, he did not seem able to pronounce 
 the word, and after staring blankly at his em- 
 ployer a minute he turned and went out to 
 execute the order. 
 
 The great engine was stopped. The men 
 from the casting-rooms and the carpenter shops 
 and the store-rooms and the repairing depart- 
 ments came trooping into the big machine shop, 
 and sat or leaned on the great grim pieces of 
 machinery, and as the shop filled, the place
 
 193 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 began to take on a strange aspect never seen 
 there before. Mr. Hardy crossed the yard from 
 the office, followed by the clerks and assistant 
 officers of the road, all curious to hear what 
 was coming. Mr. Hardy mounted one of the 
 planers and looked about him. The air was still 
 full of gas and smoke and that mixture of fine 
 iron filings and oil which are characteristic of 
 such places. The men were quiet and respect- 
 ful enough. Many of them had heard the man- 
 ager's speech of Thursday night at the Town 
 Hall. Most of them were aware that some 
 change had taken place in the man. It had 
 been whispered about that he had arranged 
 matters for the men injured in the Sunday ac- 
 cident so that they would not come to want in 
 any way. And now, that grimy, hard-muscled 
 hard-featured crowd of eight hundred men 
 turned their eyes all upon the figure standing 
 very erect and pale-faced on the great planer, 
 and he in turn looked out through the blue 
 murky atmosphere at them with an intensity 
 of expression which none in that audience 
 understood. As the man went on with his
 
 Bobert Hardy's Seven Days. 193 
 
 speech they began to understand what that 
 look meant. 
 
 "My brothers," began the manager with a 
 slight tremble of the syllables so new to him, 
 "as this may be the last time I shall ever speak 
 to you, I want to say what is true to me and 
 what I feel I owe to you. For twenty-five years 
 I have carried on the work in this place without 
 any thought of the eight hundred men at work 
 in these shops, except as their names were on 
 the pay roll of the company. It never made 
 any difference to me when your wives and chil- 
 dren grew sick and died. I never knew what 
 sort of houses you lived in, except to know that 
 in comparison with mine they must have been 
 very crowded and uncomfortable. For all these 
 twenty-five years I have been as indifferent to 
 you as one man possibly could be to men who 
 work for him. It has not occurred to me dur- 
 ing this time that I could be anything else. I 
 have been too selfish to see my relation to you 
 and act upon it. 
 
 "Now I do not call you in here to-day to 
 apologize for twenty-five years of selfishness.
 
 194 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Not that alone. But I do want you to know 
 that I had been touched by the hand of God in 
 such a way that before it is too late I want to 
 say to you all, 'Brothers,' and say to you that 
 when you think of me hereafter, it may be as 1 
 am now to-day, not as I have been all the years 
 past. It is not for me to say how far or in what 
 manner I have trampled on the brotherhood 
 of the race. I have called myself a Christian. 
 I have been a member of a church. Yet I will 
 confess here to-day that under the authority 
 granted me by the company, I have more than 
 once dismissed good, honest, faithful workmen 
 in large bodies, and cut down wages unneces- 
 sarily to increase dividends, and in general, I 
 have thought of the human flesh and blood in 
 these shops as I have thought of the iron and 
 steel here. I confess all that and more. What- 
 ever has been un-Christian I hope will be for- 
 given. There are many things we do to our 
 fellow-men in this world which abide. The 
 sting of them I mean. The impress of my self- 
 ishness is stamped on this place. It will take 
 years to remove it. I might have been far more
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 195 
 
 to you. I might have raised ray voice, as a 
 Christian and an influential director of this 
 road against the Sunday work and traffic. I 
 never did. I might have relieved unnecessary 
 discomfort in different departments. I refused 
 to do it. I might have helped the cause of 
 temperance in this town by trying to banish 
 the saloon. Instead of that I voted to license 
 a crime and poverty and disease establishment. 
 I might have used my influence and my wealth 
 to build healthy, comfortable homes for the 
 men who work on this road. I never raised my 
 finger in the matter. I might have helped to 
 make life a happier, sweeter thing to the nearly 
 one thousand souls in this establishment, and I 
 went my selfish way, content with my own lux- 
 urious home and the ambition for self-culture 
 and the pride of splf-accomplishments. And 
 yet there is not a man here to-day who isn't 
 happier than I am. 
 
 "I wish you all in the name of the good God 
 who forgives our sins for Jesus's sake, the wish 
 of a man who looks into the other world and 
 seer things as they really are. I do not wish
 
 Kobert Hard's Seven Davs. 
 
 you to think of my life as a Christian life. Tt 
 has not heen such. But as you hope to be for- 
 given at last, forgive all wrongs at my hands. 
 You are living in the dawn of a happier day for 
 labor. There are Christian men in this town, 
 and some few connected with railroads, who are 
 trying to apply the principles of Christianity to 
 the business and traffic of earth. My probable 
 successor in these shops is such a man in spirit. 
 God is love. I have forgotten that myself. I 
 have walked through life forgetful of Him. But 
 I know to-day that He is drawing the nations 
 together and the world together in true sym- 
 pathy. The nations that stand defiant and dis- 
 obedient to God shall perish. The rulers who 
 haughtily take God's place and oppress the peo- 
 ple shall be destroyed. The men of power and 
 intelligence and money who use these throe 
 great advantages to bless themselves and add 
 to their own selfish pleasure and ease, shall very 
 soon be dethroned. I would give all I possess 
 to be able to live and see a part of it come to 
 pass. Men, brothers, some of you younger ones 
 shall live to see that day. Love God and obey
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 197 
 
 Him. Envy not the rich. They are more mis- 
 erable than you sometimes dream. True hap- 
 piness consists in a conscience at peace with 
 God, and a heart free from selfish desires and 
 habits. I thank you for your attention. You 
 will know better why I have said all this to you 
 when you come in here to work again next Mon- 
 day. My brothers, God bless you. God bless 
 us all !" 
 
 When Eobert stepped down from the planer 
 and started towards the door, more than one 
 black hand was thrust out into his with the 
 words, "God bless you, sir!" He felt a strange 
 desire to weep. Never before had he felt that 
 thrill shoot through him at the grasp of the 
 hand of his brother man. His speech had made 
 a profound impression on the men. Many of 
 them did not understand the meaning of cer- 
 tain sentences. But the spirit of the man was 
 unmistakable and the men responded in a man- 
 nei that touched Mr. Hardy very strongly. He 
 finally went into his office, the big engine start- 
 ed up again, and the whirr and dust and clangor 
 of the shops went on. But men bent over their
 
 198 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 work there, in the gathering dusk of the winter 
 day who felt a new heart-throb at the recollec- 
 tion of the pale face and sincere words of the 
 man who had broken a selfish silence of a quar- 
 ter century to call them brothers. Robert 
 Hardy, what glorious opportunities you missed 
 to love and be loved! With all your wealth 
 you have been a very poor man all your life un- 
 til now on the next to the last day of it! 
 
 There is little need to describe the rest of 
 this day. .Robert went home. Every one greet- 
 ed him tenderly. His first inquiry was about 
 Clara. Still in that trance-like sleep. Would 
 she never wake? The wife shuddered with 
 fear. Mrs. Hardy had spent much of the time 
 in prayer and tears. The evening sped by with- 
 out special incident. James Caxton came and 
 joined the family circle. His presence re- 
 minded Mr. Hardy of the old quarrel with the 
 young man's father. He spoke to James and 
 said if anything should prevent him seeing his 
 father the next day, James might tell his father 
 how completely and sincerely he wished the
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 190 
 
 foolish quarrel forgotten and his own share in 
 it forgiven. 
 
 So that day came to a close in family confer- 
 ence, in tears, in fear and hope and anxiety and 
 prayer. But Mrs. Hardy would not lose all 
 hope. It did not seem to her possible that her 
 husband could be called away the next night.
 
 200 .Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE SEVENTH DAY SUNDAY. 
 
 Alice, with the quickness of thought that al- 
 ways characterized her, planned that all the 
 rest should go to church while she remained 
 with Clara. Will was able to go out now. So, 
 for the first time in years, Robert and his wife 
 and Bess and the two boys sat together in the 
 same seat. George had not been to church for 
 a year, and Will was very irregular in his at- 
 tendance. The opening services seemed spec- 
 ially impressive and beautiful to Mr. Hardy. 
 He wondered how he had ever dared sit and 
 criticize Mr. Jones and the way he had of read- 
 ing the hymns. To be sure, he was not a per- 
 fect speaker, but his love for his people and his 
 great love for men and his rare good life every 
 day were all so well known that they ought to 
 have counted for more than they ever did. It is 
 astonishing how many good deeds and good men 
 pass through this world unnoticed and unappre-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 201 
 
 elated. But every evil deed is caught up and 
 magnified and criticized by press and people, 
 until it seems as if the world must be a very 
 wicked place indeed and the good people very 
 scarce indeed. 
 
 Mr. Hardy joined in the service with a joy 
 unknown to him for years. He had come to it 
 from the reading of his Bible instead of the 
 reading of the morning paper, and from his 
 knees in prayer instead of from thoughts of his 
 business or a yawning stroll through his libra- 
 ry.^ His mind was receptive of the best things 
 in the service. He entered into it with a solemn 
 feeling that it was his last. And when the 
 minister gave out the text, "For we must all 
 appear before the judgment seat of Christ that 
 every man may receive the things done in his 
 body, whether they be good or bad," he started, 
 and leaned forward intently, feeling that the 
 message of the preacher was for him and him 
 alone, and strangely appropriate for his own 
 peculiar condition. The first statement of the 
 sermon arrested his attention and held him to 
 the argument irresistibly to the end.
 
 202 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 "The judgment seat of Christ will not be a 
 dreadful place to a man whose sins have been 
 forgiven in this world. But if he comes up to 
 it seamed and scarred and stained with sins un- 
 repented of and unforgiven because he has not 
 asked God to forgive him, it will be a place of 
 awful fear to his soul. There are men here in 
 this audience who are as ready to die now as 
 they ever will be. They have made their peace 
 with God. They have no quarrel with their 
 neighbors. Their accounts are all square in 
 business. They are living in laving relations 
 with the home circle. They have no great bur- 
 dens of remorse or regret weighing them down. 
 And if God should call them this minute to step 
 tip to the judgment seat they would be ready. 
 
 "But there are other men here who are not 
 at all ready for such a tremendous event. They 
 may think they are, but they are mistaken. 
 How can they stand before the greatest Being 
 in all the universe and have no fear, when they 
 are unprepared to answer His questions, 'Why 
 did you not confess Me before men ? Why did 
 jou not do as I commanded and bear the bur-
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 203 
 
 clens of the weak instead of pleasing yourself?' 
 What will the man say then? It is true that 
 Christ is all-merciful, all-loving. 
 
 "But will it make no difference with a soul 
 whether it comes up to His judgment seat out 
 of a life of selfish ease and indulgence or out of 
 a life of self -sacrifice and restraint? When 
 every possible offer of mercy is held out to men 
 on earth and they will not accept it, will it be 
 all the same as if they had, when they come 
 before the judgment seat of Christ ? Why, that 
 would be to mock at the meaning of the Incar- 
 nation and the Atonement. It would be to cast 
 scorn and contempt on the agony in the Garden 
 and the Crucifixion. It would make unneces- 
 sary all the prayer and preaching. What possi- 
 ble need is there that men preach a gospel of 
 salvation unless there is danger of the opposite ? 
 If we are all going to be saved anyway, no mat- 
 ter whether we accept God's love in Christ or 
 not, what use is the church and why should wo 
 be anxious any more about our children, and 
 what difference does it make whether they go 
 to the bad here in this world, if in the world
 
 204 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 to come they will all be saved? For eternity 
 will be so much grander and sweeter and endur- 
 ing than time that we might as well take it easy 
 here and not pay much attention to the mes- 
 sage 'God so loved the world/ that is, if we are 
 going to be saved anyway. 
 
 "And why should we care very much if it 
 does say in the revelation of God's Word that 
 the wicked shall go away into everlasting pun- 
 ishment, if we don't believe it? Why, the 
 wicked will stand just as good a chance of eter- 
 nal glory as the good, if the judgment seat of 
 Christ does not mean a separation of the good 
 from the bad. Let us close our churches and 
 go home. Let us eat and drink and dance and 
 be merry for to-morrow we die, and after death 
 the judgment, and after the judgment glory, 
 and joy, and power, and peace and life eternal 
 in the presence of God. It is true we scorned 
 Him on earth, but that won't make any differ- 
 ence, He will receive us just the same. It is 
 true we refused to believe in His only begotten 
 Son after all He suffered of shame and agony 
 for u?, but that makes no difference, He will
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 205 
 
 say, 'Enter into the joy of thy Lord.' It is true 
 we made fun of Christians, and mocked at 
 prayer, and sneered at faith, but that is not 
 much to be afraid of. It is true we hated our 
 neighbor and would not forgive an insult, but 
 that's a little thing. It is true when the Holy 
 Spirit pleaded with us a year or six months ago 
 to confess Christ in public, we told Him to 
 leave us, we were ashamed to do it in the pres- 
 ence of men, to confess Him who spread out 
 His arms on a cross of bitterest agony for us; 
 but for all that we feel sure that when we 
 march up to the judgment seat of Christ He will 
 treat us just the same as He treats His disciples 
 who have laid down their lives for the Master. 
 Then let us tear out of the Bible every line that 
 speaks of retribution or punishment or judg- 
 ment, for we don't like those passages, they 
 hurt our feelings, and let us leave only those 
 words that speak of love, and mercy, and for- 
 giveness, for those words are the only ones that 
 can be true, for those words don't make us feel 
 uncomfortable. Away with everything that 
 hurts our feelings, that makes us anxious, that
 
 206 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 sends us to our knees in prayer, that makes us 
 confess Christ and live a life of self-denial and 
 service; for when the judgment seat is pre- 
 pared and Christ sits down there and we appear 
 before Him, He will receive us just as we come 
 before Him, the pure, and the impure, and the 
 selfish, and the proud, and the humble, and the 
 believing, and the disbelieving, and infidels, 
 and scoffers, and cowards, and despisers of 
 God's love on the earth, and all the class of men 
 who fell back on weak and imperfect Christians 
 for their own weak lives, and the drunkards, 
 and the liars, and the oppressors of the poor, 
 and everybody who heard a thousand sermons 
 full of gospel and despised them because of 
 some imperfection in the delivery or elo- 
 cution, and all those men who went 
 through the earth life betrayers of the 
 home, and the selfish politicians who be- 
 trayed their country, and all the men 
 who read the Bible and believed only the parts 
 that didn't hurt their sensitive feelings, and all 
 the young men who lived fast lives and sowed 
 wild oats because a wicked and false public sen-
 
 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 207 
 
 timent made them think it was excusable and 
 perhaps necessary, and every other man and 
 M'oman who lived as he pleased regardless of 
 God and Eternity: when all these shall appear 
 before the judgment seat of Christ He will be- 
 hold them, all as one soul, and with a smile of 
 gracious pardon He will reach out His almighty 
 arm and sweep them all alike into a Heaven of 
 eternal bliss, there to reign with Him in glory 
 and power, world without end! 
 
 "But is this what Christ taught the world? 
 Suppose what we have said is true, it turns His 
 whole life into a splendid mockery. Foolishness 
 and absurdity could go no further than to cre- 
 ate a life like His and put into His mouth such 
 teachings as we have received, if at the judg- 
 ment seat all souls, regardless of their acts in 
 this world, are received on an equal footing and 
 all received into eternal life. And where is 
 there any room in the teachings of Christ for a 
 purgatory? Do we believe that ? Is it not the 
 plain teaching that after the judgment the 
 destiny of souls is fixed forever? 
 
 'Tint what could man wish more? Will he
 
 208 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 not have opportunity enough to accept the 
 mercy of God before that time? Does he not 
 have opportunity? If any soul appears at last 
 and at the judgment complains that he did not 
 have a fair chance, will that gracious Judge 
 condemn him if his complaint is true? We 
 know He will not. But the facts of the judg- 
 ment are these: At that time, whenever it is, 
 the souls of men will have passed upon them 
 for their acts in the earth life a verdict that 
 will determine their everlasting destiny. And 
 that verdict will be just and it will be merciful. 
 For the Crucified One could not do otherwise. 
 But the men who have despised and neglected 
 and disbelieved and have not confessed shall be 
 separated from Him forever. And the men who 
 have confessed and believed and tried to live 
 like Him shall be in His presence continually. 
 There will be a division of souls. It will not be 
 based on wealth or position or birth or educa- 
 tion or genius, but on Christ-likeness, on that 
 divine and eternal thing we call character. 
 Everything else shall go away into destruction, 
 into death, into punishment, into banishment
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 209 
 
 from God. And banishment from God will be 
 hell, and it will be a hell not made by God but 
 by man himself, who had an opportunity, nay, 
 a thousand opportunities every day of his life 
 to accept the bliss of Heaven, and of his own 
 selfish choice rejected every one of them and 
 went to his own place. 
 
 "But some soul starts up and says, 'You are 
 not preaching the gospel. You are preaching 
 fear, hell, torments. Is this your boasted love 
 of God?' Yes, for what am I preaching if not 
 the love of God, when I say, 'God so loved the 
 world that He gave His only begotten Son that 
 whosoever believeth in Him should not perish 
 but have everlasting life'? Is there no danger 
 of perishing? Why did Christ come then? 
 Why did He say the things He did ? Why did 
 He speak of the condemnation of the wicked 
 and unbelieving if that was not a part of the 
 gospel ? The gospel is glad tidings. But what 
 makes it glad tidings? Because of the danger 
 we are in. What is salvation ? It is the oppo- 
 site of being lost. We cannot have one without 
 the other. So I am preaching the gospel here
 
 210 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 to-day when I say, 'We must all appear before 
 the judgment seat of Christ !' There will be no 
 fear to us then if we believe in Him, if we have 
 lived His life here, if the things done in the 
 body are good. And more than that. As long as 
 this earth life continues, God's mercy is with us 
 every moment. It is possible some soul is here 
 who for years has lived selfishly within his own 
 little toys of pleasure. He looks back on a life 
 of uselessness, of neglect of all that Christ did 
 for him. He this day hears the voice of God. 
 He listens; he repents; he cries out, smiting 
 on his breast, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!' 
 And then what will God do? Will he reject 
 him because he is old in sin, because he has 
 wasted beautiful years? When he appears be- 
 fore the judgment seat will Christ sa} r , 'You re- 
 pented too late on earth. You cannot be saved 
 now'? No! Even if after a hundred years of 
 shame and sin a soul with its outgoing breath. 
 in genuine repentance and faith in the Son of 
 God, cried out for mercy, that cry would be 
 answered and he would be saved. What less of 
 glory and power such a soul might experience
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 211 
 
 in the realms of glory, we may not be able to 
 tell. But he himself would be saved. 
 
 "Is not God merciful then ? Let no man de- 
 part from this house of God fearful or despair- 
 ing. The earthly life is full from beginning to 
 close with the love of an Almighty Father. 
 Shall men complain because they cannot have 
 all of this life and all the other too in which to 
 repent and be forgiven? 'Now is the accepted 
 time, now is the day of salvation. To-day if 
 ye will hear His voice harden not your hearts/ 
 Men of Barton, you have heard the word of God 
 proclaimed here from this desk to-day. Young 
 men, will you wait until you are old in sin and 
 shame before you will repent and be saved? 
 And how do you know you will live to be old 
 men? And what a life to live even if you were 
 sure of a hundred years, to pour out the dregs 
 at last as an offering to Christ jiist to escape 
 hell ! all men, hear ye this day the message 
 of Christ. He is a Savior of sinners. It is not 
 necessary that any man go away from this ser- ' 
 vice unsaved. You may believe here and now. 
 Won't you do it? 'Believe on the Lord Jesus
 
 212 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 Christ and thou shalt be saved.' And then go 
 home and pray rejoicing. And if the Almighty 
 calls you out and away from this prison of clay 
 into his resplendent presence this very night 
 what will yon have to fear? Not one thing. 
 You have put your trust in Him. Your sins 
 are all forgiven. You can appear before His 
 judgment seat and await your verdict vrith a 
 calm and joyful soul. For you know as you 
 gaze into the loving countenance of your Re- 
 deemer and Judge that when He turns and 
 speaks to you He will say, 'Come, ye beloved of 
 My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
 you from the foundation of the world.' Truly 
 God is Love." 
 
 The prayer that followed the sermon seemed 
 to bring all the souls in the church very close to 
 God. The events of the past week had stirred 
 the town deeply. The awful disaster so near 
 them, the speech of Mr. Hardy in the Town 
 Hall, rumors of the experience he was having, 
 all this had prepared the audience for just such 
 a sermon on Sunday morning. And men bowed
 
 Eobert Hardy's Seven Days. 213 
 
 their heads and prayed in that house who had 
 not done such a thing sincerely in many years. 
 
 Robert had many inquiries concerning him- 
 self and Clara to answer at the close of the ser- 
 vice. He finally went up and thanked the min- 
 ister for what he had said and spoke as he never 
 had spoken before, in encouragement of his 
 pastor's work. But it seemed to him he must 
 be getting home. The time was growing short. 
 He must have the rest of it with the dear ones 
 in the home. 
 
 What need to describe the details of the 
 afternoon? Robert Hardy had the joy of 
 knowing that all his children were with him, 
 and at dark James came over and asked if he 
 might join the circle. He did not know all that 
 Mr. Hardy had gone through, but the children 
 had told him enough to make him want to be 
 with the family. 
 
 "Why, come right in and join the circle, 
 Jim, you're one of us," cried Mr. Hardy cheer- 
 fully. So Jim drew up his chair and the con- 
 versation went on. They were sitting in the 
 .upstairs room where Clara lay and facing an
 
 214 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 open fire. The doctor had called in the middle 
 of the afternoon, and brought two other skilled 
 surgeons and physicians, at Mr. Hardy's request. 
 It was a singular case and nothing special could 
 be done. That was the unanimous opinion after 
 deep consultation, and after remaining some 
 time the doctors had withdrawn. 
 
 When it grew dark Alice started to turn on 
 the lights, but her father said, "Let us sit in 
 the firelight." So they drew close together and 
 in awe looked upon him who seemed so sure 
 that God would call him away at midnight. 
 Who shall recount the words that were uttered ? 
 The exact sentences spoken? The fears, and 
 hopes, and petitions, and tears of the wife? 
 The commands of the father to his boys to grow 
 up into the perfect manhood in Jesus Christ? 
 The sweet words of love and courage that 
 passed between him and his wife and daugh- 
 ters? These things cannot be described, they 
 can only be imagined. And so the night passed. 
 It was after eleven o'clock when the conversa- 
 tion had almost ceased and all were sitting 
 hushed in a growing silence that Clara again
 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days. 215 
 
 spoke, so suddenly and clearly that they were 
 all startled and awed by it: 
 
 "Father! Mother! Where have I been? [ 
 have had such a dream! Where are you? 
 Where am I?" 
 
 Mrs. Hardy arose and with tears streaming 
 down her face kneeled beside the bed and in a 
 few words recalled Clara to her surroundings. 
 The girl had come out of her strange uncon- 
 sciousness with all her faculties intact. Grad- 
 ually she recalled the past, the accident, the 
 dream of her father. She smiled happily on 
 them all and they for awhile forgot the ap- 
 proach of midnight and its possible meaning to 
 Mr. Hardy. All but himself. He kneeled by 
 the bed, by the side of his wife, and thanked 
 God that his dear one was restored. Suddenly 
 he rose to his feet and spoke aloud, quietly, but 
 clearly, "Did you not hear some one calling?" 
 His face was pale but peaceful. He bent down 
 and kissed Clara, embraced hie sons, drew his 
 wife to him and placed his band on Bessie's 
 head, then, as if in answer to a command he 
 gently kneeled down again by his chair and as
 
 216 Kobert Hardy's Seven Days. 
 
 his lips moved in prayer the clock struck once 
 more the hour of twelve. And he continued 
 kneeling there. And he was nearer God than 
 he had ever been all his life before. And thus 
 Robert Hardy's Seven Days came to an end. 
 
 THE END.
 
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