FLORENCE-AND 
 IRVIN-5HUPPJR
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 IRVINE 
 
 GIFT OF 
 Mr. & Mrs. Kenneth R. Shupp
 
 THE MAID OF HONOR
 
 The Maid of Honor 
 
 BY 
 RICHARD S. HOLMES 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO 
 
 Fleming H. Revell Company 
 
 LONDON 
 
 AND 
 
 EDINBURGH
 
 Copyright, 1907, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 / 
 
 /// 
 
 /v^ 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 New York : 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago : 80 Wabash Avenue 
 Toronto : 25 Richmond St., W. 
 London : 21 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh : 100 Princes Street
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S .... 7 
 
 II. I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE .... 22 
 
 III. A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS . . -35 
 
 IV. A HOPELESS CASE ...... 42 
 
 V. TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING . . . -55 
 
 VI. AN UNEXPECTED GUEST ..... 67 
 
 VII. WENDELL S QUEER DAY 80 
 
 VIII. MvjABBOK 89 
 
 IX. No BENEDICTION SUNDAY .... 99 
 
 X. HENDERSON RETURNS TO His OWN COUNTRY BY 
 
 ANOTHER WAY . . . . . .in 
 
 XI. JOE SURPRISES ME . . . . . .121 
 
 XII. WHICH RECORDS Two JOURNEYS . . 134 
 
 XIII. ON SHIPBOARD ...... 144 
 
 XIV. ON FOREIGN SHORES . . . . .158 
 
 XV. THE BUMMERS CLUB . . . . .171 
 
 XVI. I VISIT DUQUEBORO 1 88 
 
 XVI]. I LEARN MORE ABOUT LEWIS JORDAN . . 205 
 
 XVIII. RED HEADLINES 215 
 
 XIX. TOM ........ 229 
 
 XX. JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION .... 238 
 
 XXI. JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS ..... 247 
 
 XXII. THREE LETTERS ...... 257 
 
 XXIII. ON THE THRESHOLD AT DUQUEBORO . . .271 
 
 XXIV. GRANDVIEW ONCE MORE .... 279 
 
 XXV. PERIL SURPRISES LOVE ..... 289 
 
 5
 
 6 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XXVI. LOVE S CONFESSION 
 
 XXVII. A VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS 
 
 XXVIII. AN AWFUL NIGHT 
 
 XXIX. AT My ALMA MATER . 
 
 XXX. THE GREENTON CENTENNIAL 
 
 XXXI. HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 
 
 XXXII. HENDERSON S WILL 
 
 306 
 
 3 3 
 321 
 
 336 
 34 2 
 352 
 366
 
 The Maid of Honor 
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 
 
 THERE was to be a wedding at old St. David s, 
 and I was to be the best man. The groom 
 and I had been classmates in college, mem 
 bers of the same fraternity, and roommates for the 
 better part of four years. The day of graduation, 
 which means separation, had come to us as it does to 
 all college boys. We smoked our parting pipe in the 
 fraternity lodge room, sang the song of " The Girl I 
 Left Behind Me," and turned our faces toward the 
 future with the hope that destiny would bring to view 
 the faces of other girls, of whom one for each of us 
 would not be left behind. 
 
 Two men could not well have been more unlike 
 than were Harry Sinclair and I. He was of less than 
 medium height, with round, full face, and light-brown 
 hair which was a fine setting for a florid complexion. 
 His eyes and mouth betokened one who would take 
 what came in daily life, but who would vastly prefer 
 to choose for himself what daily life should bring. 
 He was an easy-going, good-natured man who could 
 be strong and stern when occasion arose. Of course, 
 in college he was popular. 
 
 We had each chosen the ministry for a life work, 
 and this caused our separation ; for Harry was an 
 
 7
 
 8 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Episcopalian and went to Philadelphia to the divinity 
 school, while I, being a Congregationalist, made my 
 way to Andover. Harry s suave manner and genial 
 disposition made him easily the faculty s first favorite, 
 and when at his graduation the parish of old St. 
 David s was without a rector, seminary influence at 
 once placed him there as incumbent. Harry consid 
 ered that great good fortune. 
 
 The outcome of my seminary life was as happy. 
 The Presbyterian church of my native city called me 
 at once, and the installation occurred within a month 
 of my graduation. And now five years had passed, 
 and Harry Sinclair had called me to be best man, as 
 he took, at the altar, that other girl for whom he 
 had hoped so sentimentally, years before. The rector 
 of old St. David s was to be married in his own 
 church. 
 
 Two days before the wedding found me in Paoli, 
 where Sinclair lived in his bachelor abode. He had 
 planned, for the afternoon, a visit to the church and a 
 call upon the bride-elect and her maid of honor, who 
 were the guests of the Waynes of the day, at the old 
 "Wayne Mansion, which stood almost as in the days of 
 " Mad Anthony." The bride was a relative of the 
 Waynes, and had very romantic notions about her 
 kinsman, the great General of the Revolution. So, 
 though her home was in Virginia, she had asked the 
 privilege of being married in the old church, and of 
 having her wedding dinner in the room where the 
 chivalrous Anthony was born. 
 
 Of course St. David s was the first object of interest 
 for Harry to point out to his guest, and we made the 
 five miles in the early afternoon at a rapid canter. 
 The quaint little church, one of the few surviving
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 9 
 
 things of which we Northerners may be proud, stood 
 just where the fathers placed it two hundred years 
 ago. It had suffered no change. Watchful eyes and 
 faithful hands had kept even the tooth of time from 
 harming it. On a sequestered country road, behind 
 and among enveloping hills, shaded by old trees, low- 
 built, with ivy clambering over it, with a strong stone 
 wall standing guard between the churchyard and the 
 highway, and with the graves of the dead of almost 
 two centuries coming close up around its always open 
 door so stood St. David s, built sixty years before the 
 American Revolution. 
 
 But beautiful as was the exterior, its charm was lost 
 when once the interior was seen. That was so small, 
 so quaint, so staid, so perfect. It w r as only a 
 miniature as compared with churches of to-day : but 
 the miniature was altogether fascinating. The great 
 Bible on the lectern looked too large to have been 
 carried in at the little door. The room was almost 
 square. From the entrance door on the side ran an 
 aisle, straight across to the wall beyond, where the 
 baptismal font was placed. A longer aisle extended 
 from the rear to the altar space, so the cross aisles 
 formed four blocks of corner pews. Six pews were in 
 each block pews of the old colonial type, white, with 
 round brown rails at the top, and little doors that 
 shut and buttoned fast upon the worshipers. I found 
 myself calculating how many persons the church 
 would hold, and wondering how many were invited. 
 Four corners full of pews, each corner holding six, 
 and each one of the six pews capable of seating five 
 guests. Four sixes were twenty-four, and twenty-four 
 fives were one hundred and twenty. Finally I called 
 out in the stillness :
 
 10 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Harry, how many bids for this affair of yours and 
 Phyllis s ? " 
 
 " A hundred and twenty : Phyllis attended to all 
 that. She came over here and counted. She wants 
 the place just full, not a vacant seat, not a guest too 
 many." 
 
 " She s methodical, isn t she ? She invites to a 
 nicety. She ll make you. account for the pennies, by 
 and by, boy. And you needn t fume when that time 
 comes, and say you don t know where those winged 
 pennies go. She ll make you tell." 
 
 We talked about how to walk in, and how to walk 
 out, and where each should stand, and how the ring 
 should be given, and whether the best man should 
 walk out with the maid of honor, just as if we had 
 anything at all to say about that, and just as if neither 
 of us had ever seen a marriage ceremony. We both 
 agreed that we never had seen such a one as this was 
 to be. After that, we passed outside to look at the 
 graves. That old burying-ground had a history. If 
 it could talk, what a thrilling story it could tell. Ivy 
 crept over the marble slabs, and myrtle ran every 
 where among the graves. I walked away from my 
 companion, and my thoughts were summoning historic 
 forms from the past as I read the inscriptions on the 
 old stones. Turning back to Harry I said : 
 
 " Harry, this makes me feel as Hamlet must have 
 felt when with Horatio he wandered in the ancient 
 buryingground in Denmark. All it lacks is the open 
 grave, the digger, the song, and the skull." 
 
 " That s all so," Harry answered. " But we can t 
 stop. Never mind the song ; never mind the skull. 
 It s mount and away. There s more to show you, and 
 we must be at the Wayne Mansion in an hour."
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 11 
 
 Over the hills we galloped until we came to old 
 Paoli battle-field, and dismounted where the monu 
 ment stands that commemorates the event. 
 
 In the open field close by, a picnic was in progress, 
 and men and boys of various ages, mixed together 
 incongruously, were playing baseball. I watched the 
 game for a moment, and then turned back to the small 
 marble shaft, and began once more to read the inscrip 
 tion. While so engaged, and trying to get into 
 spiritual touch with the past, I felt rather than saw 
 one of the men from the picnic approach. With no 
 hesitation he said : 
 
 " Interested in history, I see." 
 
 " Yes, greatly," I replied. 
 
 "Then of course you know all about the Paoli 
 massacre." 
 
 I was ashamed to confess myself ignorant of any 
 point of my country s history, but there was no other 
 way ; and I answered, " No, I know nothing about it, 
 save what is written on this stone." 
 
 He then told me the tragic story of Wayne s defeat 
 by General Gray : how Wayne had planned to sur 
 prise the British commander, and had himself been 
 surprised and routed through the treachery of his 
 Tory countrymen. 
 
 " Were there many Tories here ? " I asked. 
 
 u Many ? " he questioned in reply. " Yes, too 
 many. Old St. David s was Church of England 
 Episcopalian, and many of its men were Tories. Pity 
 that church hadn t been Presbyterian. The Presby 
 terians were patriots, every last man of them. There 
 was not a Presbyterian Tory in the whole province." 
 
 Sinclair had taken no part in the conversation, but 
 he winced at that, and colored, and knowing as I did
 
 12 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 his every mood, I feared a sudden flame of wrath. 
 Before he could say a word, I broke in with the eager 
 question : 
 
 " Are you a Presbyterian, then ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, that s what I am a Presbyterian 
 preacher ; Westminster Confession of Faith Presby 
 terian preacher." 
 
 " May I ask your name ? " 
 
 "Why not?" said he. "I m always glad to tell 
 my name. I am Chalfant Fraser, at your service. 
 And you ? " 
 
 I gave my name, and asked, " Is your church near 
 here ? " 
 
 " Yonder in Malvern. These are the favorite 
 grounds for our young people for picnics, and I like to 
 have them come here. I tell them these grounds are 
 the campus of Liberty College, and the trees sing 
 patriotic songs when the wind blows high." 
 
 " So you re a Presbyterian preacher ? Well, that 
 makes two of us," I answered, " for I am a Presby 
 terian preacher, too. My friend here is the rector of 
 old St. David s. But he s no Tory. He s a patriot. 
 He s going to be married to one of the old General s 
 kinswomen, the day after to-morrow." 
 
 Straight over to Sinclair the preacher walked. " So 
 you are Mr. Sinclair ? I have never met you before, 
 but I know all about you. Will you take my hand ? 
 I didn t mean any offense : facts are facts, we cannot 
 dodge that. But I wouldn t have said what I did, had 
 I known, and I ask your pardon." 
 
 Then Sinclair did one of those handsome things 
 which always made him popular with men. He 
 stepped quickly nearer, grasped the stranger s hand, 
 and with a good strong shake said, "Take your
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 13 
 
 hand? Well, I should say so. Why shouldn t I? 
 Probably I ve no business to be an Episcopalian. 
 But though I am, I m no Tory, but a patriot : every 
 inch of me a patriot." 
 
 Upon that I interrupted saying, " Harry, let me 
 make you acquainted with our new friend. This is 
 the Rev. Chalfant Fraser of Malvern, and your 
 neighbor." Then Harry s whole manner changed. 
 " Fraser : Fraser ? " he replied. " Why, that s the 
 name of one of Phyllis s ushers. Is he a relative of 
 yours ? " 
 
 " Yes, he s my son," was the reply. 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Harry. " Now, this is fine. I 
 haven t seen your son yet, but he ll be all right, I 
 know." 
 
 " Yes, he ll be all right : so I think. He arrives 
 home to-night. He s in business in Newark, New Jer 
 sey. He s an old beau of Phyllis s, but she dropped 
 him when you came into the field." 
 
 There was a moment s pause. Then Mr. Fraser, 
 stepping back and ejdng Harry, said, " So you are to 
 marry Phyllis Lorraine ? Well, I congratulate you, 
 for I know her. The whole Union can t beat her. 
 And if she were here I d congratulate her too." And 
 Harry, with a last shake of the man s hand, which he 
 still held, answered, " Right you are, my friend. The 
 whole Union can t beat her ; no, nor the Union 
 and Dominion joined. She s the finest, the very 
 finest " 
 
 " Boots and saddles, Harry ! " I cried, almost at the 
 top of my voice. " You nipped my sentiment in the 
 churchyard, I ll nip yours here. The gloaming s com 
 ing : white sails wait in the offing, and there s a day 
 after to-morrow for you, and perhaps a to-night for
 
 U THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 me ; for I have not yet seen Phyllis, and that other, 
 that maid of honor girl perhaps she is for me, who 
 knows ? " 
 
 We mounted and rode slowly down the bridle path 
 toward the highway. 
 
 The dusk of a September day was settling down 
 when I first saw Phyllis Lorraine. She had been ex 
 pecting us, had seen us approaching, and stood waiting 
 in the wide hall of the Wayne Mansion. The lamp 
 light fell softly on her face and figure, showing both 
 in the loveliest way. 
 
 They were very unlike, Harry and Phyllis. He was 
 Saxon, and she was southern. The stream that dark 
 ens the cheek, and makes the indescribable complexion 
 that we call " brunette," had been poured into her life 
 from some ancestral spring. "Brunette," "little 
 brown," is just the word to describe her. Glowing 
 she was, and rosy, but the rosiness was softened by 
 the brown. She was tall, but not very tall; she 
 moved as southern girls always move, with a grace 
 that makes you wonder. As she came forward to 
 meet us, her red-brown cheeks glowed, and her eyes 
 kindled with welcome. 
 
 " So this is Harry s chum ? I ve heard all about 
 you. I know you perfectly. I give you welcome, 
 though this is not my home. This was my kinsman s 
 home, General Wayne, and he is welcoming you in my 
 words. But you must have been far around, for you 
 are late." 
 
 I listened to her voice in rapt fascination, never 
 having heard a southern girl speak before, and that 
 liquid, indescribable sound with which she had just 
 said "around" had captured me. No one can say 
 " ou " as the southern girl does, and as I heard it now
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAA ID S 15 
 
 for the first time, I said to myself, "I wish she would 
 say around, and about, and sound, and any other 
 word with ou in it, for an hour. It equals any 
 song." But to stand in dumb show, admiring, was 
 impossible, and I said, as any country gentleman would, 
 " Our ride has been long, but I have enjoyed it 
 greatly, Miss Lorraine. I have seen some things I 
 shall not forget ; not the least of them is the little 
 church in the ingleside. But had I known the pleas 
 ure that awaited me here, I would have made Harry 
 hasten." 
 
 " Oh, you northern men are all alike," she retorted. 
 " You love to be gallant in speech. But you are right 
 about the little church. It is a dear, isn t it ? " 
 
 " That it is," was my answer. " I would like to be 
 married there myself." 
 
 Upon that she turned to Harry, and said, " Do you 
 know how late you two men are?" But ere Harry 
 could reply, a man who had come in added : 
 
 " Yes, Sinclair, you are late. And I ve come in to 
 ask you and your friend to stay to tea." Whereupon 
 Harry introduced me to Mr. Wayne. After a saluta 
 tion, he proceeded, " Come, gentlemen, Phyllis will 
 excuse you while you put off the dust of your ride, and 
 tea will be ready presently." He led the way to the 
 stairs, Phyllis calling after us, " Now, hasten, Harry. 
 I want your friend to see the rest of the family before 
 tea is served. Yes and Harry, he has not seen my 
 maid of honor." 
 
 When Sinclair and I came down the broad stairs, 
 the family and guests were waiting in the hall. From 
 those stairs I had my first sight of the maid of honor. 
 My heart almost stopped beating at sight of that girl. 
 As I had gone up the stairs, I had thought of nothing
 
 16 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 but the beauty of Phyllis Lorraine and Harry s good 
 fortune. As I came down, I thought of nothing but 
 the vision of beauty standing by Phyllis s side. 
 Mechanically I heard and saw myself presented to the 
 members of the Wayne family. What sort of responses 
 I made to their greetings I never knew. But Phyllis 
 recalled me to myself in a moment, as she said, 
 "And now let me present you to my very dear 
 friend, my maid of honor. Will you escort her in to 
 tea?" 
 
 Upon that, I came to myself, and bowing said, 
 "May I have that honor?" With a graceful 
 movement of her head, but without looking at 
 me, she answered, " Thank you," and took my offered 
 arm. 
 
 How that tea-time passed, I never quite knew. The 
 woman by my side had robbed me of my customary 
 power to talk. Harry and Miss Lorraine sat opposite, 
 and the stream of conversation ran on cheerily ; but 
 my words were not making even a little eddy in the 
 surface, and I was conscious that the maid of honor 
 was in the most lady-like way ignoring me. But there 
 was one compensation : my mind was busy with the 
 picture she had made as she stood in the hall while I 
 came down the stairs. It was a lovely picture. Tall, 
 almost as tall as I ; straight, graceful, in perfect poise ; 
 fair, with hair the color of the smoke-tree blossom in 
 my home dooryard ; her complexion clear, auroral, 
 tinted like the sky in an early cloudless morning, 
 neither pale nor rosy, but a blending of the white 
 and red such as no brush could paint ; and faultlessly 
 dressed, though in the utmost simplicity, she had stood 
 there like a queen. The girls had been busy with 
 some of the wedding preliminaries, and the work was
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 17 
 
 not yet all done. Phyllis was so informal that she 
 kept on her work apron, nor would she allow her 
 friend to lay hers aside. 
 
 So the maid of honor, wearing a plain but perfectly 
 fitting black gown and a long apron, had met the 
 best man and accepted his escort. But the impression 
 that apron had made was to endure for all time. It 
 was pink, of a shade so nearly like the light in her 
 face that, had the two met, no one could have told 
 where either ended or the other began. I never 
 had known before that black and pink could make so 
 becoming a costume. That vision was my undoing. 
 I tried to talk, but I was thinking of the maid of 
 honor. When tea was over, and Mr. Wayne took 
 me about the old house, I could not tell what we saw, 
 nor where we went. I was thinking of the maid of 
 honor. Phyllis showed me the room where the 
 General was born, and where her wedding dinner 
 would be served, but I took little heed. I was thinking 
 of the maid of honor. I think no man ever made a 
 worse guy of himself. Of course that would not do, 
 so I pulled myself together after a while and acted as 
 a guest, who wished to make a good impression upon 
 all, should act ; but the maid of honor was absolutely 
 unresponsive to my every advance. The girl and the 
 man had even so soon formed opinions of each other 
 which probably neither would have had the other 
 know. I knew both ; I loved her, and she regarded 
 me with aversion. 
 
 It was half-past twelve o clock when Harry and I 
 were back in the den at Paoli. I was very ill at ease, 
 because of the manifest attitude toward me of that 
 girl. I knew perfectly well that she had drawn her-
 
 18 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 self away from me before supper was ended, and I 
 chafed under my failure to please her. 
 
 Harry would smoke before he went to bed, and I 
 joined him, though I was no great smoker, and was 
 thinking of other things than those which the Indian 
 weed is apt to conjure up. 
 
 " Isn t she great ? " said Harry. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. 
 
 " Isn t the man lucky that gets her ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Isn t she the handsomest woman you ever saw ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Isn t she just Yenus, and Helen of Troy, and Dido 
 of Carthage, and Parthenia, and all the rest ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What would you give to be in my place, old 
 fellow ? " 
 
 " Not one red cent." 
 
 "What! and she all that?" 
 
 " Yes, just because she is all that." 
 
 " And you wouldn t take my place because she is all 
 that?" 
 
 " No, I wouldn t, and just because she is all that." 
 
 " Don t you admire beauty ? " 
 
 " Yes, I "do." 
 
 "Wouldn t you like to have the handsomest woman 
 in the world for your wife ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would." 
 
 " And yet you wouldn t take my place ? " 
 
 " No, I wouldn t." 
 
 " Look here, old man, what s the matter with you ? " 
 
 "Nothing s the matter with me. I m sleepy, and 
 this cigar is too strong for me. I knew it was when 
 I took it. Let s go to bed."
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 19 
 
 We rehearsed at St. David s Church next day. 
 Harry and I rode over to the Wayne Mansion, and 
 then acted as escorts for the carriages that took the 
 remainder of the party to the church. The Bishop of 
 the diocese was to perform the ceremony for his 
 young rector, but he would not come out to St. David s 
 for any rehearsal. He wrote, " Arrange matters as 
 you please. I will be there ; I know how to do my 
 part." 
 
 At the church we found the two ushers waiting. 
 Harry knew one of them as he was his choice, but Phyllis 
 had insisted that she be allowed to choose the other. 
 "It is not conventional, I know," she had said, " but I 
 want Bruce Fraser. He s a good friend of mine." So 
 Phyllis had her way. 
 
 I was more interested in Bruce Fraser than I would 
 have been but for the pleasant meeting with his father. 
 I could see at once why Mr. Fraser had said Bruce 
 was all right. lie did look so. He was tall and well 
 built, very fair, with light wavy hair, blue eyes and a 
 melodious voice. But there was something about his 
 lips that I did not like. It did not take a second for 
 me to see that he was interested in the maid of honor. 
 That thought was confirmed before the rehearsal was 
 over, and there came to me a presentiment that there 
 would be trouble between him and me sometime. 
 
 The little company gathered at the gate by the 
 roadside, for the procession was to start from the 
 carriages. Unique, and unlike any wedding procession 
 I had ever seen, was that one. I went first on the arm 
 of an usher, and next came Harry in the same way. 
 After him walked the maid of honor alone, and last 
 of all the bride-elect, escorted by her father. Phyllis 
 had planned all. She had a genius for doing unusual
 
 20 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 things just as if they were as common as air. Thus 
 it happened that I reached my place at the altar first, 
 and from that point of vantage watched the rest. On 
 they came, but after the first glance my whole atten 
 tion was given to the maid of honor. She was as 
 erect and graceful as the fabled queen of beauty, and 
 I blessed the man who built that church, and made it 
 possible for me to see such loveliness unchallenged. 
 
 I acted as Bishop s dummy in the rehearsal, reading 
 from the prayer-book as well as I could with one eye 
 on the book, and the other on well, not on Phyllis 
 Lorraine. It all went well enough until the return 
 march. Then I, longing to have that lovely girl on 
 my arm once more, said : 
 
 " Let s make this a compact, three-couple affair, as 
 we go out. It will be much more symmetrical than 
 for one couple to lead and four singles to go trailing 
 along behind. Three men, one by one, look too much 
 like flunkeys." 
 
 Phyllis clapped her hands, and cried, " Oh, yes : that 
 will be lovely. That s just what I want." 
 
 Then Harry s usher said, " Why, yes : I think that 
 will be au fait" 
 
 Bruce Fraser said nothing, but I saw him and the 
 maid of honor exchange glances, and then that lady 
 spoke. " If there were three or four bridesmaids, 
 and three or four ushers, and presenting arms, as the 
 soldiers say, were the order for all, it would be well 
 enough. But as it is, I think Phyllis and Mr. Sinclair, 
 the Princess and her Prince, should be followed by 
 us all singly and in courtier-like humility." 
 
 That was all she said, but the matter was settled. 
 For once Phyllis was not to have her way, and I 
 saw what none of the rest did : a light in the eye of
 
 A WEDDING AT ST. DAVID S 21 
 
 that maid of honor which looked as if it might have 
 been flashed from an iceberg. Yet below her eyes her 
 face was covered with a smile. Glancing the next 
 instant at Bruce Fraser, I saw an answering smile just 
 vanishing from his face. The best man had been 
 snubbed by the maid of honor, and he knew it; he re 
 solved not to incur another snub during those wedding 
 days. 
 
 The wedding was a success. The Bishop, berobed 
 and august, officiated. The one hundred and twenty 
 guests gathered from far and wide. The little organ 
 made such music as its possibilities permitted. Harry 
 was solemn. Phyllis was radiant. The maid of honor 
 looked like a queen. As the wedding procession 
 passed from the church, Phyllis led the way to 
 General Wayne s tomb, and tore apart her wedding 
 bouquet, strewing its flowers about the base of the 
 shaft that marked her great kinsman s grave. Then 
 back the procession went to the old Wayne Mansion, 
 to congratulations, to the wedding dinner, to adieus, 
 and to separation. The wedding at St. David s was 
 over.
 
 II 
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 THE train for New York was ready when I 
 reached the station. I was hurrying toward 
 the only parlor car, when ray eyes caught 
 sight of the maid of honor just entering it. She 
 paused a moment, to say " good-bye " to Mr. Lorraine, 
 Phyllis s father, and as I was in no mood to meet 
 either of them, I went into the coach at hand. 
 
 The brief sight of Mr. Lorraine called vividly to mind 
 the only thing I had not liked about the wedding party. 
 That was the punchbowl under the stairs. It was one 
 of the insignia of the fashionable circles of the great 
 cities which the country parson could not abide. To 
 my great surprise, Mr. Lorraine, who was in all ex 
 ternals an elegant gentleman, paid too much court to 
 the punchbowl, and with him always seemed to be 
 young Fraser, the usher. When the latter bade his 
 hosts good-night, he was unmistakably the worse for 
 liquor. I saw him when he said adieu to my lady. 
 There was a sentence or two that appeared almost 
 confidential, to my watchful eyes, and then she said 
 more audibly : 
 
 " And you won t forget what I told you, will you ? " 
 
 " No, I won t. I couldn t ; pon my word, I 
 couldn t." 
 
 "You d better not," she said, and he was gone. 
 My parting with her had been very different, and was 
 too fresh in memory to make me care for the exchange 
 
 22
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 23 
 
 of a word with her. I had been the last guest to 
 leave the Wayne Mansion, and when the adieus had 
 been made to my good hosts, I had said to the maid 
 of honor : 
 
 " These last two days have been varied and happy." 
 
 " Indeed they have," said she. " Good-night." 
 
 Almost any man in his senses would have under 
 stood that, and have gone without another word. 
 But I was madly in love. In all those days, where 
 this girl lived had not been mentioned, and I intended 
 to ask her at parting. 
 
 So I kept on, " We have had a part not soon to be 
 forgotten, in a lovely festivity." 
 
 " Yes. Good-bye," she answered, and her manner 
 would have done credit to Lord Chesterfield. I 
 blundered on. 
 
 " You will be going home soon, I suppose : to-mor 
 row, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow, perhaps," said she, with studied 
 emphasis of my words. And she added for the third 
 time, " Good-bye." 
 
 Then I comprehended that it was time to go, and 
 with such dignity and hauteur as I could assume, I 
 said, " The best man says farewell, his last farewell, 
 to the maid of honor, and thanks her for the pleasure 
 she has conferred in a festal hour." 
 
 And she answered, just as she had already, without 
 a change of tone, without a modulation of the note 
 she had first struck, " Thank you. Good-bye." 
 
 If you have ever been in love, you do not need to 
 have me tell you that the hours I had passed since 
 that last " good-bye " until I saw her enter the parlor 
 car had not been wholly unperturbed, and as I went 
 into the coach, that last glimpse of her put my brain
 
 24 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 in a whirl. She was entrancingly beautiful. I loved 
 her, and I was losing her forever. I could have 
 written to ask Harry where her home was, but that 
 would have been to tell him my secret, and perhaps 
 my sorrow, and I would not have him know either. 
 He would tell Phyllis, and she would tell the girl, 
 and that must never be, if it could be possibly pre 
 vented. 
 
 There is a friend of mine who is accustomed to say, 
 " God helps the man who can t help himself." The 
 saying was proved true that afternoon. How much I 
 might have moped and droned, I know not, had it not 
 been for what happened. The train was full to the 
 doors. I went through car after car without finding 
 a seat. In the last car I came upon one in which there 
 was only one passenger, and his appearance was not 
 particularly inviting. But it was my only chance, and 
 I dropped into the vacant place timidly, as if I had no 
 right there. 
 
 Little by little I settled into the place, and began to 
 take account of my seat companion. He was holding 
 a large, flexible-covered Bible, a pad of paper, and a 
 pencil, and was deeply engrossed, reading and note- 
 making. I began to watch him, at first stealthily, 
 then, seeing how preoccupied he was, more boldly, and 
 finally rather more closely, probably, than politeness 
 would have allowed ; when to my great surprise he 
 turned squarely upon me, saying : 
 
 " Ye want to know what I am doin , I doot. I 
 don t mind tellin ye. I ve been havin a discussion 
 wi some friends o mine, who think I don t know what 
 releegion is. I do. But I want to get masel fortified. 
 I want the bottom facts. Ye don t know me, but I ll 
 tell ye the kind o man I am. I m a very releegious man.
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 25 
 
 I m probably more releegious than any o the people 
 o my acquaintance, and I m probably more releegious 
 than yoursel ." 
 
 Those were the first words David Henderson ever 
 spoke to me. In them, he introduced himself, and the 
 introduction was perfect. As the years passed by, I 
 came to know him well ; ho\v well, it is part of the 
 business of this story to relate. 
 
 Two things were very clear : the man was Scotch , 
 and he wanted to talk. He had flung out his last 
 remark like a challenge, and I knew if I took up the 
 gauntlet, there would be a discussion on religion. A 
 Scotchman may be as reticent as a crab about ordinary 
 things, but he is like the war-horse that snuffeth the 
 battle afar off and paweth in the valley when he sees 
 an opening for discussion about religion. But I wel 
 comed the challenge, and replied : 
 
 " You may be more religious than I. But I ought 
 to be fairly religious, being a preacher of the gospel." 
 
 His answer was a staggerer. 
 
 " I would be thinkin so. Ye look half-scared and 
 uncertain, as most preachers do. Ye droppit into this 
 seat, half o which was yours by right, as if ye were a 
 thief, takin what didna belong to ye. Ye sat doon 
 wi aboot half your weight on the seat, balancin the 
 rest o yoursel on your legs, and ye held yoursel 
 thegither as if ye were afraid to touch me, lest ye 
 might catch somethin . Why, man, I am no danger 
 ous," he went on, noticing not at all that I hardly 
 knew whether to be amused or indignant at this frank 
 personal comment. " Then," he continued, "ye began 
 to squint at ma buik, juist like a preacher or a woman. 
 Ye had no business to, but ye were so curious, ye 
 couldna help it. So I sized ye up. I saw ye werena
 
 26 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 a woman, and I concluded ye must be a preacher, for 
 naebody else would act so much like a woman. But 
 all the same, I know I am more releegious than ye." 
 
 I saw that he thought he had me at a disadvantage, 
 and I paused just a moment before I said : 
 
 "Well: what you know you know, you know you 
 know. But that does not make me know. Are you 
 absolutely sure that you know what religion is ?" 
 
 In Scotch fashion he came back at me : 
 
 "Sure? Who else would be sure, an Iwerena? 
 Sure ? Yes, I am. There s two ways to know whether 
 ye know or not. One is the Bible way, and the ither 
 is reason s way, an I know both. I doot whether ye 
 know either, for ye don t look as if ye had much grip 
 o things. Ye act as if ye d been shaken up ower nicht 
 by somethin ." 
 
 I made up my mind I had fallen in with an unusual 
 man. He had evidently read my perturbation at a 
 glance. I wondered if he could also read the cause. 
 Wondering just what sort of answer to make, he saved 
 me the trouble by going on : 
 
 " Where s your church, anyway ? " 
 
 I knew he had not changed the subject, by his 
 abrupt question, but was getting ready to renew his 
 discussion with vigor. So I answered promptly : 
 
 "It is at Greenton, New York." 
 
 " An where micht that be ? " 
 
 " Well, it might be in the west of the state, and it 
 might be in the south, and it might be in the center, 
 and it might be " 
 
 " Hoot, man," he broke in, " ye re no such a fool as 
 ye look, wi your micht be s an your micht be s. But 
 where is it ? " 
 
 To have made a point with this queer traveler was
 
 I MAKE AX ACQUAINTANCE 27 
 
 something. I knew I must not lose it, so I answered 
 with care : 
 
 " Do you know eastern New York, the part away 
 up the Hudson River, between it and Vermont ? 
 Well, there s a lovely little city there in the hills. 
 There s a beautiful winding stream there, whose water 
 is crystal clear and cold. The trout love it and fill it. 
 Sometimes its course is between meadow banks," I 
 proceeded, warming to my subject, " and again at the 
 bottom of great bluffs. It tumbles over rocks ; it 
 whirls in eddies ; it dashes down in cascades from high 
 terraces. Greenton lies on one of the bends of this 
 stream, which long ago made it prosperous by its 
 water-power." 
 
 He broke in eagerly, and his eyes were aglow, " Are 
 there trout there now ? " 
 
 " Yes, there are trout there ; but a man can t go 
 stumbling along the banks discussing with strangers 
 about religion, and carrying a flap-edged Bible in one 
 hand, and a fly rod in the other, and hope for a 
 rise." 
 
 " Man," he answered, " ye shouldna speak with dis 
 respect o the Word o God, and ye a preacher. It s 
 the cover that s flap-edged ; it s na the buik." 
 
 I laughed to myself a little over his nice distinction, 
 but I answered : 
 
 " All right, I meant no disrespect. There are trout 
 in that river, and my little church stands on the edge 
 of one of the high banks over the river, and the village 
 common lies out before the church. I wish you could 
 see the elm-shaded streets, and the big farm- 
 wagon loads of people coming to church on Sundays, 
 and " 
 
 " I ve heard enough. I ll be changin my opinion
 
 28 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 about ye. What do ye think releegion is, now, any 
 way ? " 
 
 "I probably don t know enough about it to answer 
 such a religious man. But I will offer you at random 
 a rather commonplace proposition. Religion is every 
 day sense for the every-day man about things right 
 and good and true. It is not a fetich nor a scarecrow, 
 and men who carry limp-sided Bibles around openly in 
 public places do not always possess an overplus of it. 
 Religion is a real worth-while affair. I know there 
 are people who do not believe this. There is an old 
 Scotchman " 
 
 " Hoot, man ; I m Scotch masel . Ye needna be 
 tellin me that ony Scotchman doesna believe in re 
 leegion. Every last one o them does. That s why 
 they re Scotch." 
 
 I could not help laughing outright. Inclined to re 
 sent the laugh, my companion added : 
 
 " Ye laugh. Do ye ken what the Scriptures say 
 aboot the cracklin o thorns under a pot and the 
 laughter ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know," I burst in. " I ought not to 
 have laughed. But when you called the whole Scotch 
 world religious I felt a laugh inside, and it escaped 
 me. I will not laugh again." 
 
 " Oh, but, man, I found nae fault wi your laughin . 
 I was juist tellin ye what the Scriptures say. An 
 ye dinna believe my countrymen are releegious ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," I replied. " I know every Scotchman 
 believes in religion. But were you not just a bit 
 untrue to your countrymen, when you burst in and 
 stopped me from saying what I wanted to when I 
 began There s an old Scotchman ? A real Scotch 
 man would have waited to hear."
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 29 
 
 Whereupon he made another unscotch reply. 
 
 " Oh, I ll have to give in to ye. What was ye 
 goin to say ? " 
 
 " Well," I resumed, " there s an old Scotchman in 
 Greenton who is the most religious-talking-and-believ- 
 ing man I know. To keep him away from church on 
 Sundays is absolutely impossible. To keep him away 
 from prayer-meeting is just as hard ; but to keep him 
 away from Bob s tavern is harder still. And the man 
 who mixes the church and the tavern in that way 
 doesn t seem to me to have that every-day sense in 
 things righteous." 
 
 I was not in the least prepared for the reply that 
 came. As skillfully as an angler ever cast a fly he 
 threw out at me a mixture of humor, and Scripture, 
 and that sort of indirect argument the Scotch love so 
 well. 
 
 " But, man, how can a Scotchman keep awa from 
 a tavern ? An doesna the Buik say the good Samari 
 tan went to an inn ? What s an inn but a. tavern ? 
 An didna he pour in oil and wine ? Where did he pour 
 the wine, now ? Where could he pour it, except into 
 the man s mouth ? Ye see, the Scotchman who goes 
 to a tavern, an pours in wine, is followin the example 
 o the good Samaritan. An didna the Maister say, 
 Go an do likewise ? " 
 
 I rose to the cast. Before I ended my reply, I 
 knew he was chuckling in glee. 
 
 " So you think a man is religious, who mixes church 
 and tavern : one day church to six days tavern, or per 
 haps seven days tavern. Would you like to have your 
 elder and your preacher go to the tavern together, on 
 a Sunday morning before church ? " 
 
 " An why not ? The elder and preacher who canna
 
 30 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 tak a wee drop thegither before the sairmon, will be 
 at variance wi each ither." I noticed that as his in 
 terest grew, his tongue slipped more and more into the 
 Scotch vernacular. " An that is contrairy to Scrip 
 ture. Doesna the Psalmist say, Behold, how guid 
 and pleasant a thing it is, for brethren to dwell the 
 gither in unity, an there canna be ony unity if the 
 elder tak s his drop, an the preacher willna." 
 
 But this time I saw that he believed he had gotten 
 an advantage of me which would enable him to have 
 his little sport, and leave me at the end helplessly out 
 done in the argument. And I had no purpose to be 
 broken down in any such way. So I returned to my 
 first proposition, that religion is an every-day thing, 
 and for illustration took my old Scotchman again. 
 
 " There s Jamie MacNaughton, of whom I wanted 
 to speak. He scouts the idea of every-dayness in 
 religion. He says plainly, I got releegion in the 
 auld country when I was a laddie, an I ve had it ever 
 sine, but it is far too fine a thing to be carried around 
 ilka day. Do you suppose I d wear ma " blacks " ilka 
 day ? I want ma releegion to be like them wi oot 
 spot, or wrinkle, or ony sic thing. Sunday s the day 
 for releegion. " 
 
 " I d like to know that man," said my companion. 
 
 I paid no heed, but went right on. 
 
 " Let me protest against the whole line of thought 
 represented by the phrase, get religion. A man 
 never gets religion ; religion gets a man : and if once it 
 gets him with a good tight grip, it keeps him out of 
 taverns. I tell you again, religion is every-day sense 
 for the every-day man." 
 
 My fellow-traveler was growing impatient. He 
 evidently had his own notions on this subject, and he
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 31 
 
 had asked me the question, expecting me to say I did 
 not know just what religion was, and then he had 
 intended to tell me. But he had given me an oppor 
 tunity, and I meant he should hear my ideas. So, in 
 spite of his uneasiness, I continued : 
 
 " I know men who are religious. Here s a man 
 who has never made a speech, or a prayer in a prayer- 
 meeting, but the berries he sells are as large at the 
 middle and the bottom of his baskets as at the top, 
 and he is never known to give short weight in grain. 
 He sells milk in Greenton, and no housekeeper ever 
 found a live trout in a milk-pan. People say he is a 
 good moral man, but not religious. I think it is a 
 question of definition. He certainly turns out a very 
 good article of life." 
 
 That gave Henderson his chance. " There : noo I 
 have ye. Ye re a Unitarian. Ye mix your morals 
 an releegion so ye canna tell hither from yon. How 
 can a man be releegious when he s only moral ? " 
 
 " Who said he was only moral ? As for mixing 
 morals and religion, they mix better than religion and 
 whiskey. I said people say he is a good moral man, 
 but not religious : and / say he is both. Your man 
 who calls himself religious, and who is immoral, is the 
 one I am after." 
 
 " Ah, you mean that Scotchman MacNaughton ? " 
 
 "Yes, I mean MacNaughton, and I mean you if you 
 belong in that class. You say you want to know my 
 idea of religion. I ll give it to you. There is a man in 
 Greenton who will not come to church to hear me 
 preach, but he does love to have me drop into his 
 office, to sit there and talk, over a pan of nuts or 
 apples. No, not cigars," seeing he was about to in 
 terrupt with a question; "he never smokes. About
 
 32 THE MAID OF HONOll 
 
 the only subject he will talk freely on is religion; 
 sometimes he brings in politics, but I am no politician. 
 I suppose he has quoted to me a hundred times the 
 text, pure religion and undefiled before God even the 
 Father, is this : to visit the fatherless and widows in 
 their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
 world. He will look nie squarely in the face and 
 say, If that is religion, then I am religious, more 
 religious than your whole church. : 
 
 "Hoot, man," broke in the Scotchman, "that s Scrip 
 ture. That s Bible an what s more, it s na quoted 
 richt. Ton s figurative. It s no intended for a stand 
 ard. Ton s only a definition, an , man, ye canna live 
 a definition." 
 
 " Well, I see there s no use in trying to tell you ray 
 thought about religion. There s more nonsense going 
 on the subject than you or I can ever upset. There s 
 a deal of religious profession that is sham," I finished 
 warmly. " It talks one way, and acts another." 
 
 " Now, there ye show that ye dinna ken what real 
 releegion is, though ye are a preacher. I m goin to 
 enlighten your ignorance. Eeleegion is belief ; it isna 
 acts; it s believin the doctrines. Eeleegion is believin 
 what the catechism tells you to believe, whether ye do 
 or no." 
 
 Then I broke my promise. I laughed. Laughed 
 without attempt at restraint. He was so earnest, so 
 far away from me in practical thought, and withal so 
 absurd. 
 
 Then he spoke. With just the least sign of emotion 
 in his voice, " Man ! ye promised ye wouldna be 
 laughin at God s word." 
 
 And taking up his form of expression, I said, 
 " Man ! I promised. And I m. not laughing at God s
 
 I MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE 33 
 
 word. I m laughing at your words." Then I tried 
 another tack. 
 
 " See here, friend ; let me tell you what religion 
 does not do, if you will not accept what I say it is. 
 Religion does not steal, nor swear, nor cheat, nor lie, 
 nor defame life, nor debauch virtue, nor set wrong 
 example, nor gamble, nor drink to drunkenness, 
 nor " 
 
 With an imperious wave of his hand he abruptly 
 interrupted : 
 
 " There ye go again vvi your things not to do. It 
 makes nae difference whether ye make releegion con 
 sist in things done, or in things not done. Didna the 
 Apostle Paul say, By the deeds of the law shall no 
 flesh be justified ? He micht with equal sense hae 
 said, By the undeeds of the law shall no flesh be 
 justified. An how can a man not justified be re- 
 leegious ? " 
 
 The train had almost reached Jersey City. The 
 Scotchman had accomplished two things: taken my 
 mind utterly away from my recent experiences, and 
 convinced me as to his own character. After a mo 
 ment s pause I said : 
 
 " My friend, we ll be separating soon, and we shall 
 never meet again. But I ll give you a definition of 
 religion that I hope you ll remember as long as I shall 
 remember the one you have given me : Religion is 
 the soul of man seeking the life of God. I think on 
 that definition, I am more religious than you. For I 
 am seeking that life, while you are probably living 
 any sort of life that happens to please you, and satis 
 fying yourself with yourself by believing every doc 
 trine of the Church." 
 
 " Never meet again, is it ? " came his reply. " Do I
 
 34 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 look like a man that never meets again ? I always 
 meet again. An I ll remember your definition until 
 my deein day, it s so absurd. But I m glad ye dropped 
 into this seat, man. I ll be glad to kno\v ye. What 
 would your name be ? " 
 
 I gave him my name. I thought he started as if 
 surprised ; but he only said, " Is that so ? That s a 
 guid name." 
 
 " And what is your name ? " I asked. 
 
 "David Henderson. I live in Duqueboro, Pa. I m 
 elder in the Kir Jear Presbyterian Church there. I 
 shall be glad to see ye in ma house. But don t forget 
 I know what releegion is." 
 
 He crossed the river by the Cortlandt ferry and I 
 saw him no more, but he left with me the memory of 
 the most unique conversation of my whole life. "When 
 he was gone, there came an irresistible desire to see 
 once more that maid of honor. I hoped she would 
 cross the river with me by the Desbrosses street ferry. 
 But she was not to be seen. I looked in vain. Whether 
 her journey had ended at Trenton or Newark, I did 
 not know. But it had ended, and whither she had 
 gone, and where she lived, I did not know.
 
 Ill 
 
 A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS 
 
 TIM WENDELL and I had been walking for 
 nearly two hours on the hills above Green- 
 ton, enjoying a lovely October afternoon. 
 The autumn foliage was superb, and Tim had stopped 
 again and again to look at the near glory and the 
 distant beauty of the forests. At last he said, " Domi 
 nie, they say I am an infidel : that I do not believe 
 in God. Look yonder," he pointed to the expanse 
 stretching away westward to the Northumberland 
 hills. " Can any man see such a sight and deny that 
 God is ? The Eternal needs no little human voice to 
 prove His being. This outsweep proves Him working, 
 working, ever working. It is your men, who say He 
 stopped His work some seventh day ages ago, that are 
 denying Him." 
 
 "Tim," I answered, " I m glad to hear that speech. 
 It shows your heart right, no matter where your 
 head is." 
 
 " Head, Dominie ? heart ? Is that where you are ? " 
 He spoke with great feeling. " I ve known you since 
 you were a boy. It is strange you are the only one 
 who comprehends me at all, you and that commercial 
 man, Joe Smith. Now here you go, making division 
 between head and heart. Dominie, look at this." He 
 plucked a beautiful maple leaf, all afire from the 
 autumn conflagration. " Look at it. Can man do 
 that ? My head says, No, only God can ; and my 
 
 35
 
 36 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 heart sings in the night because this is the token of 
 His love for me. Don t ever put rny head and heart 
 apart again." 
 
 " That s a great confession of faith, Tim. You 
 ought to unite with the church." 
 
 "What, Dominie! and be one with your elder 
 Harfis, and your new convert Hobart? A closer, 
 meaner, dirty-dollar lover than Harfis does not live. 
 You know that. And Hobart joined your church 
 because, having become newly rich, he wanted social 
 position which he could get in no other way. Join 
 ing the church don t count, Dominie ; it don t count." 
 
 I saw that line of talk had gone far enough, and I 
 changed the subject abruptly : 
 
 " Tim, I want to drop this personal line, and tell 
 you a story." 
 
 " All right," he answered. " I ll listen." 
 
 Then I told him of my meeting and talking with 
 Henderson on the train. When I had finished, Tim 
 said, "Dominie, that man was playing you. He did 
 not believe a word of what he said. He s uncertain 
 about himself, and he was drawing you out, hoping 
 for something he could use for his own good." 
 
 " Oh, that can t be, Tim. He was too dogmatic, 
 too positive for that." 
 
 " Don t you know a Scotchman yet ? Why, Jim- 
 mie MacNaughton will be most positive in mood when 
 he s most negative in mind. If I mistake not, you ll 
 hear from that Scotchman yet. You ll hear him quote 
 your own definition of religion yet, as if it were his.. 
 It was fine, Dominie, very fine, but it can t touch 
 mine, you know. Mine is the greatest in the world." 
 
 " Yes, Tim, I agree. It is the very greatest in the 
 world." We parted presently at my own home gate.
 
 A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS 37 
 
 That night I received a letter written from, the 
 St. Charles Hotel, New Orleans. It ran : 
 
 "My DEAR PREACHER: 
 
 " I met a man last night who is as queer as you 
 are, and who says he knows you. The head-waiter 
 gave him a seat at my table, and before I gave any 
 sign that conversation would be agreeable, he broke out 
 in a loud voice, Good evenin ; commercial man, I see. 
 
 " Who told you so? I asked. Nobody. I 
 guessed. Hit it right, didn t I ? No, you didn t, 
 I said, and you re impertinent and a Yankee. 
 No offense, now, said he, no offense. But if I m a 
 Yankee, you re a wizard. What made you know I 
 was a Yankee ? Because you said " guessed," I 
 answered. No one but a Yankee says " guess " 
 when he jumps at a conclusion. Why did you take 
 me for a commercial traveler? His answer started 
 a talk that lasted long after we had gone to the 
 veranda with our cigars. It drifted on until it struck on 
 church membership, and the insincerity of Christian 
 people, and all that sort of thing. 
 
 " There was a man sitting by who seemed to be 
 listening. He couldn t help hearing, for the Yankee 
 had a voice like a fog-horn. I said, See here, man, 
 you re all wrong. Church members are the salt of 
 the earth ; the Scripture says so. 
 
 " Oh, you make me tired, he said. " I know church 
 members from Casco Bay to the Rio Grande, and if 
 they are the salt of the earth, they ve lost their savor. 
 You see I know some Scripture myself. 
 
 " I am sorry for you. I wouldn t have so poor 
 an opinion of men as they run as you seem to have, 
 I answered.
 
 38 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Oh, you needn t waste your sorrow on me. I ve 
 not a poor opinion of men as they run. It is the men 
 who pose of whom. I have a poor opinion. The 
 general run of men don t profess anything, and they 
 live up to what they don t profess. The man I m 
 after is your church member who professes a lot, and 
 does not practice a little. But I do know two 
 religious men. 
 
 " Well, what about them ? I said. The man sitting 
 by was becoming interested. He moved a little 
 nearer. The man went on : One is a preacher, and 
 he goes to church of course. The other belongs to no 
 church, and won t go to church at all, but he puts up 
 a good square article of life all the time. The church 
 people call him an infidel. Where does that 
 preacher live ? I said. Oh, up in Greenton, New 
 York. What s his name ? Is he a Presbyterian ? 
 4 Yes , he is a Presbyterian, he answered, and then he 
 gave your name. * I thought so, said I ; I know him. 
 Then the man sitting by spoke up: Pardon me, 
 gentlemen ; I have been overhearing your conversa 
 tion ; probably I should not, but I was interested, and 
 I am rather glad I heard, for the name that has just 
 been given is the name of a man I have met, and I 
 think what you say is true. Then the Yankee jumped 
 up, and, standing before the man sitting by, said, 
 True ? You bet it s true. But what a little world 
 this is. You two men both know my preacher. 
 Well: you know a good fellow. He s just like the 
 sample all the way through. 
 
 " Is he a good preacher ? I said. Well, no, can t 
 say he is. He s young, you see. Thinks he knows 
 it all. But he don t know much about life such as 
 fellows like me lead. But he s white, and he s dead
 
 A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS 39 
 
 earnest about his religion. Whenever I go to Green- 
 ton I go to church ; not because of what I expect to 
 hear, but because of what I know of him. I was in 
 college with him Freshman year. Freshmen don t 
 count much, as a rule. But he did. He was the 
 squarest man in the whole college outfit. 
 
 " Is the other man you spoke about all the time 
 talking about pure religion and undefiled, and visiting 
 the fatherless and widows? said I. 
 
 " f Yes : how did you know him ? 
 
 " I don t know him. But I know the preacher, and 
 he has told me about this " pure religion " man. 
 Then the man sitting by said, Gentlemen, I think 
 we ought to be acquainted. Would you object to 
 giving me your names ? My name is William Wayne 
 Lorraine, and I am from Richmond, Virginia. 
 
 " Then I said, My name is David Henderson, and I 
 am from Duqueboro, Pennsylvania. Then the Yankee 
 said, I can t match you, gentlemen. Lorraine s 
 French, and Henderson s Scotch ; but my name s plain 
 Smith : Joe Smith : and Smith s all creation, and I 
 come from the best town on the map. I m from 
 Boston. 
 
 " We ought to have parted then, but Joe Smith 
 went on talking about church members, and he said 
 finally, A church member has no business to swear, 
 and drink, and play poker. 
 
 " What s the harm with a man doing such things 
 in a moderate, temperate, Christian way ? I said. 
 
 " Are you a church member ? he came back at me. 
 
 " Yes, and I am an elder, too. 
 
 " And do you do such things ? If you do, 
 you re another hypocrite, and I d better stop where I 
 am.
 
 40 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 " Oh, no, I said. Go on. You can t make it any 
 worse. Go on. But as I said that, I heard Mr. Lor 
 raine yawn, and I concluded to stop the talk. So before 
 the Yankee could answer, I said, No, don t go on. I 
 have an engagement early to-morrow for a client, a 
 young Episcopal clergyman of Paoli, Pa. He loaned 
 some money in Texas on a wildcat land scheme, and I 
 must go to Galveston to look after it. So I ll have to 
 go to bed. 
 
 " Episcopal clergyman ? Paoli ? Is his name 
 Henry Sinclair ? said Mr. Lorraine. Yes, said I. 
 Do you know him ? A little, he said. He s my 
 son-in-law. It was at his wedding, about a month 
 ago, I met the Greenton preacher. He was Sinclair s 
 best man. Can t I have a part in this business affair ? 
 There was no objection to that, and Lorraine is going 
 with me to Galveston. 
 
 " So you see, preacher, I am getting wound up 
 slowly on the same spool with you. What it is all for 
 I do not in the least know. But I am a Presbyterian, 
 and believe the doctrines, and there s foreordination 
 about it somewhere. I don t know as I am your friend 
 yet, but perhaps I shall be. I don t know yet how 
 foreordination will work. 
 
 " DAVID HENDEKSON." 
 
 At supper that night I told my mother of the letter. 
 How strange it seemed that the chance acquaintance 
 of a railway train had suddenly come into intimate 
 touch with my life. He had met Joe Smith : he knew 
 Mr. Lorraine and Harry. Had he written he knew 
 the maid of honor, I should not have been surprised. 
 
 I went over to Tim "Wendell s office after supper, 
 and read the letter to him. It interested him greatly.
 
 A LETTER FROM NEW ORLEANS 41 
 
 " I knew you d hear from him," he said when the 
 reading was done. " I didn t expect to be mixed up 
 in it, though. It begins to look a little as though his 
 life thread, Joe s, yours, and mine might be woven 
 into some pattern in a common fabric." 
 
 " That s so, Tim. Do you really think I ll ever see 
 him again, or that you ll ever see him ? " 
 
 " Sure : he ll drop down here some day."
 
 IV 
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 
 
 FOR the third time in my two years pastorate, 
 I had paid Jim Garvey s fine for petty thieving. 
 Jim was a well-known figure in Greenton. For 
 ten years there had been no baseball game played by 
 the Greenton City Stars, in which he had not figured 
 as Aquarius. In my own experience on the diamond, 
 before going to college, and during the vacations of 
 my undergraduate and seminary life, he had given me 
 numberless cups of cold water, but never one in the 
 name of a disciple. An undersized boy of eleven, he 
 had appeared suddenly on the ball-grounds, coming 
 from no one knew where, carrying water for the 
 players, who tossed him pennies. 
 
 I was only fifteen myself then, and had gone up to 
 him, boylike, asking : 
 
 " "What s your name ? " 
 
 " Jim," he had answered. 
 
 " Jim what ? " 
 
 " Jim nothin , I guess. What business is it o 
 your n ? " and the profanity which followed would 
 have done credit to a professional. 
 
 Red-haired, bare-footed, he was made grotesque to 
 the extreme by the evidently cast-off garments which 
 he wore, trousers turned up because too long, a blue 
 swallow-tailed coat with smooth, flat brass buttons, 
 and a straw hat whose top, half severed from the 
 crown, flapped up and down like a loose lid, while 
 
 42
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 43 
 
 through the rift his shock of red hair stuck out in all 
 directions. 
 
 The baseball aggregation was never of high moral 
 order. Some of its men helped on Jim s profanity by 
 their own. By the pennies which they tossed him, 
 they taught him how to spend money freely for tobacco 
 and for beer, and throughout his career tobacco and 
 profanity had been his most striking characteristics. 
 
 In one of my college vacations, after I had become 
 quite an important member of the nine, I had under 
 taken to fathom the character of this bit of human 
 flotsam and jetsam. Whether or not his shambling, 
 unkempt, poiseless figure was the domicile of an im 
 mortal soul, was matter for question. Because I be 
 lieved that there is no form of animated life that will 
 not respond to kindness, I decided to cultivate Jim 
 along the line of kind helpfulness, and as my first move 
 toward his salvation, secured him a place in a shop 
 where drop-forgings were made. Here for a while he 
 worked with alert dexterity. He was then fifteen 
 years old. 
 
 " Jim," I asked him one day, " who s your father ? " 
 
 "Ain t got none." 
 
 " Who was your father ? " 
 
 " Never had none." 
 
 " Where did you get your name ? " 
 
 " Schoolmarm giv er to me." 
 
 " How was that ? " 
 
 " Went to school ; er asked me my name. Tole er 
 Jim. Jim what ? sez she. Jimnothin , sezl. Then 
 er writ down a name. Er turned to the school kids, 
 an er sez, Children, this is James Garvey. Ain t 
 nuther, sez I. I m Jim. That s all I be. But them 
 kids called me Garvey. I licked one of em for it, but
 
 44 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 it didn t do no good. Schoolmarm kept callin me 
 that. I couldn t fight the schoolmarm." 
 
 " Why couldn t you, Jim ? " I said. 
 
 " Cos ; she s a woman," he answered. " Think I d 
 fight a woman ? I d a licked any feller tried to 
 fight er." 
 
 " Jim, you re a kind of gentleman. Do you know 
 it?" 
 
 " Shoot er, I ain t no swell toggler. I m Jim." 
 
 " What are you going to be when you grow up, 
 Jim?" 
 
 " Bum, or cop. Don know which." 
 
 " What would you do if you were a bum ? " 
 
 " I d steal, and dodge the cops." 
 
 " What would you do if you were a policeman ? " 
 
 "I d run the bums and crooks into the cooler." 
 
 " Why don t you work ; save money ; begin to be a 
 man, Jim ? " 
 
 " Oh," and he poured out an appalling torrent of 
 profanity, " I d ruther carry water for the Stars. " 
 
 It was not long before the factory work palled, 
 through lack of excitement, and Jim fell back into 
 the thieving life that he had begun when, as a little 
 boy, he had stolen fruit from gardens. Now it was 
 old iron which he stole from the shops about the city, 
 and sold to the foundry. When I had finished the 
 seminary, the thieving mania was firmly fixed upon 
 him, and he was as nearly a complete moral degenerate 
 as I have ever known. Three times he had stood before 
 Justice Wendell, and each time Tim had let him off 
 with a fine. True to my role of philanthropist, hoping 
 still to save the poor fellow, I had on each occasion 
 paid the fine. 
 
 It was on the night of the last of these performances
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 45 
 
 that Wendell carae into my study in a thoroughly dis 
 gusted frame of mind. 
 
 " Dominie," he said, " I know your game, but you ll 
 lose. If you win, you ll lose. You re playing some 
 thing against nothing. If you take every trick there ll 
 be no count, for you ll find the cards that blackguard 
 plays are blanks. He s working you. You re smart 
 about everything else. I was over at Bob s to-night. 
 The bums in the bar-room were all laughing at your 
 act this afternoon. I came in to get you to promise to 
 stop." 
 
 " Tim," I said, " that boy s got something in him 
 somewhere that s worth getting out. I can t drop him. 
 I m the only friend he has." 
 
 " Well, Dominie, I ll tell you what will happen. You 
 are encouraging him in crime now, and if he becomes 
 a bad criminal you will have part of the blame in this 
 community. And some day he will hit you hard." 
 
 That night there was a fire. A tall brick block that 
 stood close to the sidewalk burned. There were stores 
 below, and apartments above. Great efforts were 
 necessary to rescue the roomers. At last, when it was 
 supposed that everyone was safe, there came a fearful 
 cry, and a woman with a baby appeared at a top story 
 front window. The interior of the room was not yet 
 aflame, but the whole rear of the house was blazing, 
 so that escape by the stairs was impossible. There 
 was no ladder long enough to reach the window, and 
 the heat was so intense that no one could stand within 
 fifty feet of the doomed block. Half a block away 
 firemen were trying to lash two ladders together, but, 
 " If they do it," said Tim, " they can t get in there to 
 set it up, and the woman ll burn to death before they 
 can reach her,"
 
 46 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 The rear wall fell in with a crash ; the flames leaped 
 up behind the wildly shrieking woman. 
 
 "My baby! oh, my baby! For God s love save 
 my baby ! " Out over the still town rang that heart 
 rending cry, while she strained the child to her bosom 
 and the flames were breaking into that last room. 
 
 Suddenly, a man with a short ladder on his shoulder, 
 and a coil of rope about his neck, was seen going up 
 the telegraph pole before the ruin. He was handi 
 capped by his burden, and the heat was blasting, but 
 he climbed with strength and agility. " Turn the hose 
 on me, can t ye ? " he cried with an oath, " and wet me 
 rope ! " It was promptly done. Up he went through 
 the scorching air, oblivious, after the water struck 
 him, to everything but his purpose. At last he reached 
 the top. Once there, it was the work of a moment to 
 lash the ladder to the crosstree of the pole, keeping it 
 all the while raised above him in the air, and to let it 
 down upon the sill of the woman s window. Over 
 this bridge he went, and, with his rope, let down to 
 safety first the baby, then its mother. Then back across 
 the ladder bridge, and down the pole to solid earth. 
 The flames glared against the dark ; the crowd cheered 
 like a mob of madmen and no Avonder, for the man 
 who had done this marvelous thing was Jim Garvey, my 
 drunken loafer, transformed for the time into a hero. 
 
 How that vagabond could conceive such a plan, and 
 carry it out so steadily and so coolly, was to me a won 
 der. But it confirmed what I had always believed, 
 that there was something worth while about Jim Gar 
 vey, if only he could be rescued from present tenden 
 cies and given a chance for development. 
 
 " What did I tell you, Tim ? " I demanded trium 
 phantly of my companion.
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 4T 
 
 " All right, Dominie ; but he s a freak. That was a 
 brave and brainy act, but he s a freak. He ll undo 
 that within a week." 
 
 " I don t believe it, Wendell," I said. " And I m 
 going to keep him away from the toughs and not let 
 them get him drunk to-night." 
 
 "He s probably drunk now," was the skeptical 
 reply. 
 
 I hurried into the crowd to find Garvey. I was just 
 in time to prevent him from going off with a gang to 
 Bob s. I caught hold of his arm. 
 
 " Jim," I said, " that was the finest thing I ever 
 saw. How did you happen to do it ? " 
 
 "Oh, I d no," he answered. "I never had no 
 chance for nothin afore. I seen dis one. I took er." 
 
 My arm had gone through Jim s, and I had begun 
 to walk through the crowd with him, questioning 
 him and talking with him all the while. Jim had 
 no sort of regard for me as a preacher, but un 
 bounded admiration of my ability to play baseball. 
 So he allowed me to lead him along toward my house. 
 When we reached there and I started to take him in, 
 he demurred. " It s late," I urged ; " you did a nerve- 
 racking thing, and I m going to give you some hot 
 coffee and a bite to eat." That made him yield. I 
 put him down into the " Sleepy Hollow " rocker in 
 my study, and went out to do my old college trick of 
 making hot coffee. But when, after perhaps fifteen 
 minutes, I returned with the viands, the study was 
 empty. Jim had gone. 
 
 I was greatly chagrined. Jim had quite baffled me. 
 He would surely be drunk before morning. I took 
 the coffee and the bread and butter back to the 
 dining-room, drank Jim s coffee, and went to bed.
 
 48 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Before daybreak there was another fire. It was a 
 barn of my Elder Harfis that burned. Jim Garvey 
 had been seen near the structure just before the fire 
 and running down a back alley just after it burst out. 
 The police had him before morning, and his hearing 
 was at ten o clock in Squire Wendell s office. The 
 evidence was only circumstantial, but it was very 
 strong. The offense was beyond Tim s power and 
 prerogative, but the evidence was such that he re 
 solved to hold the prisoner for trial at County Sessions, 
 and ordered his commitment to the county jail unless 
 he could furnish bail in the sum of five hundred dol 
 lars. Being present at the hearing, I very promptly 
 stepped forward to become his bail. As I signed the 
 bond, the justice forgot his friendship for me, and ad 
 ministered a scathing rebuke for the sentiment I was 
 wasting on this vagabond, and for the premium I was 
 putting on law-breaking. This was in the hearing of 
 the spectators, a gruesome lot, such as throng a police 
 justice s court. He closed his address with a word to 
 Garvey. " You may count yourself lucky," he said, " in 
 having the Dominie for your friend, but I do not think 
 it will take you long to convince him that he is a great 
 fool." Jim shambled out of court without a thank- 
 you to me, and I was almost angry at Tim for the first 
 time in my life. 
 
 At dinner my mother said to me, " My son, what 
 have you done with the silver cup ? " 
 " "What silver cup, mother ? " 
 " Why, there s only one : the heirloom." 
 An ominous misgiving went through me as I an 
 swered : 
 
 " I have done nothing with it, It is on my library 
 table."
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 49 
 
 "No," she answered. "Mrs. Hobart was in this 
 morning, talking about a thought she had of starting 
 an heirloom to go down in their family from father 
 to oldest son, generation after generation. I told her 
 we had exactly such a thing that your great-grand 
 father Lord had started. Only he had twelve chil 
 dren, and had given them twelve silver cups, with 
 conditions that the oldest child in each line of descent 
 should have the cup. I went to get ours to show her, 
 and it was not to be found." 
 
 So Jim Garvey s vanishing was explained. I went 
 to my study to make pretense of looking for the cup, 
 but I knew it was gone. 
 
 I went out and found Jimmie MacNaughton. " Jim- 
 mie," I said, "I had a loss last night. It was not 
 discovered until this morning. I had Jim Garvey at 
 my house after that first lire, and I suspect he knows 
 something about that loss. I want you to find him 
 and bring him here. Don t tell him anything of my 
 suspicions or of my loss, but bring him here. Tell 
 him that hot coffee is waiting." 
 
 There was no report from Jimmie until evening. 
 Then I heard feet stamping on the porch. MacNaugh- 
 ton was a true Scotchman. What the minister said do, 
 he would do if he could. In he came with Garvey, who 
 was drunk. " Sleepy Hollow " once more received 
 Garvey. Coffee came in presently, and I made both 
 men drink. 
 
 After the little luncheon, I said to MacNaughton, 
 "Jimmie, you ve done me a good job. Now you need 
 not stay. Garvey wants to talk to me, and he prob 
 ably doesn t want to have you hear what he s got to 
 say. If I can ever help you, call on me." So Jimmie 
 went out into the night.
 
 50 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 I sat down and began to read. I gave no heed to 
 my guest, but kept an unobserved watch on his move 
 ments. I saw him look at the place on the table 
 where the cup had been wont to stand, and then 
 glance at me uneasily. I read on. He grew restless ; 
 he acted as nearly like a caged animal as he could 
 without rising. At last he slouched up. 
 
 " I m goin , parson," he said. 
 
 " Why, no, Jim," I answered. " You haven t told 
 me what you came for. Sit down." I rose and put 
 him back into "Sleepy Hollow." 
 
 There was more silence. Finally he blurted out, 
 " Wha cher want ? " 
 
 "That s what I would like to know, Jim. What 
 do you want ? Why did you come here ? " 
 
 " Didn t come ere. Wha cher want ? " 
 
 "Did you like your coffee and grub last night, 
 Jim ? " I asked. 
 
 " Didn t hev none," he answered. 
 
 " What ? Didn t you come home from the fire with 
 me to get coffee and bread and butter ? " 
 
 " Didn t get em. Didn t stay," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember. When I came back, you 
 were gone. What made you go ? " 
 
 " Was tired. Wanted to go to bed," was the reply. 
 
 " Did you go to bed ? " I asked. 
 
 " Did so elp me," and he swore until I feared my 
 mother would hear. 
 
 When he stopped, I said, " Garvey, do you know 
 why you are not in Salisbury jail to-night ? " 
 
 " S pose I do," was his reply. 
 
 " What is the reason ? " 
 
 " Cos you went me bail," he said. 
 
 " What made me do that ? "
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 51 
 
 " Give er up. Thet s too hot fer me." 
 
 " Who s paid your fines two or three times for little 
 petty thefts, Jim ? " I asked. 
 
 He made no answer. 
 
 " Do you know I ve done that, Jim ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know er," he said. 
 
 " What do you suppose I did that for, Jim ? " 
 
 " Give er up : can t hold er : she s too swift," he 
 answered. Baseball slang stuck to him still. 
 
 " See here, Garvey : are you too drunk to under 
 stand if I tell you ? " 
 
 "Who sez I m drunk? I ain t drunk. I m just 
 tired. I want to go home." 
 
 " You re sober, are you ? " 
 
 " That s er. That s wat I be." 
 
 " Well, then, if you re sober, what did you do with 
 my silver cup that you took last night ? " 
 
 The poor wretch turned pale. He looked at me in 
 a frightened way. I thought he was about to break 
 for the door, to prevent which I rose and turned the 
 key, putting it in my pocket. Then he began to swear. 
 
 " So elp me I ain t seen er ; not since she stood 
 right there, I ain t." 
 
 " Oh ! then you saw the cup standing on the table, 
 Jim ? " I said. 
 
 " That s er, parson, I seen er. Eight-sided ; marks 
 on the sides," he replied. 
 
 " What did you do with the cup, Garvey ? " 
 
 " Never touched er. Ain t never seen er," he said. 
 
 " Do you know where you are to-night, Garvey ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 "Yes: I m ere." 
 
 " Do you know where you ll be to-morrow night ? " 
 I continued.
 
 52 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Yes , I ll be ome in bed so elp me," and he 
 s \vore once more grotesquely. 
 
 " No, Jim. You won t be in Greenton. You ll be 
 in Salisbury jail. I can t prove that you stole the 
 cup, but I ll go to Justice Wendell in the morning 
 and cancel that bail-bond, and he ll send you to Salis 
 bury before night. And this fire means Dannemora 
 or Sing Sing." 
 
 " Don cher do er, parson ; don cher do er. I ll 
 go to work. I will, so elp me. I won t drink no 
 more ; I won t, so elp me." 
 
 " Jim, you go get that cup ; you bring it here 
 within an hour. I ll wait right here. If you bring 
 it, all right, I ll let up. If you don t, I ll have every 
 policeman in Greenton after you before midnight." 
 
 " I ll do er, parson. I ll do er. Lemme go git 
 er." I took the poor wretch at his word. 
 
 When the hour ended, I went out for the chief of 
 police, and started the whole body after Garvey. 
 They searched all night, but did not find him ; he 
 had taken French leave. I never saw the cup again. 
 
 In the morning, the chief reported to Justice Wen 
 dell what had happened. That night he came into my 
 study, very serious. 
 
 " Dominie, I m older than you. I think I can see 
 farther into a white oak plank than you can. I knew 
 where the Garvey philanthropy must end. I m sorry 
 you ve lost that cup. But you ve lost more. You ll 
 have to pay that bail-bond. He would have skipped 
 anyway. I don t suppose you can afford that five 
 hundred dollars, but I can t let you off. I ll tell you 
 what I will do : I ll go halves on it with you." 
 
 " No, Tim," I said. " You re a mighty good friend, 
 but I ll take my medicine."
 
 A HOPELESS CASE 53 
 
 "Dominie, you re good stuff," he answered. "But 
 there s one thing more you ve lost: you ve lost faith 
 in human nature. You have benefited and trusted 
 that vagabond, and twice within forty hours he has 
 deceived and wronged you. Human nature s fairly 
 bad, Dominie, as it goes." 
 
 "No, Tim," I answered: "human nature s to be 
 trusted yet. You have shown that in the offer you 
 made just now. And no man can do what Garvey 
 did for that mother and child, unless there s a soul 
 in him with good impulses. I d like to be the means 
 of finding and setting free the soul that s in Garvey." 
 
 " You re a rainbow-chaser, Dominie. You ll never 
 see Jim Garvey again. And you re getting off cheap 
 with a silver cup and five hundred dollars." 
 
 " You re wrong, Tim : he ll be back." 
 
 " Never, Dominie, never." 
 
 About a month later, Tim called me into his office. 
 
 " Here, Dominie, here s richness of your own kind. 
 This is the real thing. You ll enjoy it." 
 
 He had blue-penciled his Troy morning journal. 
 There was a grim look about his mouth as he handed 
 it to me. Of course the story, highly sensational, was 
 about Garvey. " The Island," in the river between 
 Troy and West Troy, was a malodorous place, and in 
 one of its low dives a quarrel had begun between two 
 men over a game of poker, and had spread to their 
 partisans, until the whole disreputable crowd were 
 pushing and striking and swearing. In the height 
 of the rumpus, one of the principals to the original 
 fight had wrenched a leg from a broken chair 
 and flung it into the midst of his assailants. It had 
 struck a man full in the face, knocked him to the floor 
 senseless, with a great gash on his cheek, and one eye
 
 54 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 forever gone. Just at that point the police had burst 
 in and seized the malefactor, who was eagerly pointed 
 out by the cowards who wished to save themselves. 
 
 Garvey s offense was aggravated assault and battery. 
 He had spent the night in the police station, and had 
 been arraigned next morning. The hearing had been 
 brief. Our wonderful law had permitted him to drink 
 in a licensed saloon. Then it lodged him in the city 
 prison for the consequences of its own permission. 
 The case was clear, and Sing Sing was the sure out 
 come for Garvey. When I had ended the gruesome 
 tale, Tim said with apparent satisfaction : 
 
 "Dominie, it s a pity you were not down at that 
 hearing. You could have put up more bail-money for 
 your protege." 
 
 " Tim," I said, " shut up." And I walked out of 
 his office.
 
 V 
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 
 
 THE only coach on the Adirondack Railway 
 from Saratoga to ]S T orth Creek was as primi 
 tive and uninviting as the roughest back 
 woodsman could desire. There were forty passengers, 
 and some few had the equipment of sportsmen : rods, 
 creels, and guns. There was a sleeping car from 
 New York on the rear of the train, but it was 
 inaccessible. After Lucerne was passed, and the 
 great gorge of the Sacandaga River crossed, the ride 
 was full of delight. Nearer and nearer the whirring 
 train brought the bare granite mountains. Shallower 
 and narrower grew the Hudson. Now one could wade 
 across without the water coming to the knees ; then 
 there were deep eddies that lay at the bottom of long 
 ripples, at the lower edges of which fishermen were 
 casting. Pebbles and stones of every shape filled the 
 river-bed, and here and there boulders so large that 
 the stone in them would have built a house. I called 
 the attention of a man who sat in the seat before me 
 to some of them. He wore a soft hat with a wide 
 brim, and snells and flies hooked to the hat-band. I 
 said, " What tremendous boulders those are ! " 
 
 "What! them stuns?" he answered. 
 
 "Yes," said I. "How did they get here, alone, 
 away from the great rocks ? " 
 
 " Oh," he ans\vered, and I could not tell whether 
 his words were irreverent, or whether he only felt 
 
 55
 
 56 THE MAID OF HONOK 
 
 contempt for my evident greenness. "Oh, yes ! them 
 stuns. I ll tell ye how them got here. Them s some 
 of the seed the Old Man dropped when he was plantin 
 them big mountings." Then he looked at Wendell 
 and laughed, and I subsided. Tim had evidently seen 
 him before. As it transpired, this very man was to be 
 the driver of our rig that afternoon. He was John 
 Pike, one of the old drivers, full of quaint humor. 
 
 At North Creek there was a scramble for places on 
 top of the big stage-coach. Not relishing a long ride 
 inside, I was starting to run with the rest, when Tim 
 called out, " Hold on, Dominie, we ll do better." So 
 the big stage drove off without us. Wendell gathered 
 our effects out of the baggage car : two big packing 
 baskets, two rubber blankets, two rubber overcoats, 
 and the various equipment of a fisherman s outfit. 
 
 " Dominie, watch these," he said ; " I ll go hunt up 
 a buckboard and driver." Very soon he was back 
 with old Scarritt, the stage-starter. 
 
 " Yes," said this official, " it is just lucky for you. 
 There s a party of four to go into Indian Lake to 
 night, bound for Lake Pleasant. You re going to 
 Hosy s, I suppose. The rig ll take you all easy. I ll 
 send Pike to drive. That be all right ? " 
 
 " Yes, that will suit us well. Send up your buck- 
 board." 
 
 Off he bustled and presently from among the dozen 
 or more waiting vehicles the Indian Lake party was 
 driven to where we stood on the platform. My heart 
 stopped still. There was a man, a woman evidently 
 his wife, and a young man whom I at once recognized 
 as Bruce Fraser. The fourth member of the group 
 was a young woman, and as the buckboard stopped, 
 and she saw me, her face turned as white as a living
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 57 
 
 face can. I was face to face with the maid of honor. 
 Hurriedly I drew Tim away. 
 
 " See here, old man," I said, " that rig can never 
 carry us with all our luggage in addition to that party. 
 Let s get another." 
 
 "Oh, hush," he answered. "There are three seats. 
 What s three on one seat for men ? I ve gone in from 
 here four on a seat. What s the matter with you ? 
 You look as if a hurricane had blown your wits 
 away." 
 
 I pulled myself together, and, by helping John Pike 
 put our luggage aboard, kept behind the wagon. The 
 maid of honor and her companion had the back seat, 
 so I did not have to face the girl until everything was 
 ready for the start. Then I stepped to the side of the 
 two ladies and doffed my hat. 
 
 The maid of honor greeted me by name, adding, " I 
 thought I knew you when we drove to the platform, 
 but you rushed off too quickly for me to assure myself 
 by speaking." 
 
 " But I knew who he was at first sight," said Fraser. 
 " How are you, Dominie ? Got over St. David s yet ? 
 Who s your friend ? " 
 
 Bruce s remark opened the way for a general in 
 troduction, by which I found that the girl s other com 
 panions were her brother and his wife. I made Tim 
 take the middle seat beside the two men, while I sat 
 in front with John Pike. The afternoon might have 
 been awkward but for Wendell. He snuffed the 
 air of the forest, his spirits rose, and his tongue was 
 loosed. " It s strange how small the world is, and 
 how people who meet once are sure to meet again," he 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, and sometimes I wish the world wasn t so
 
 58 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 small," added Fraser. That he intended a declaration 
 of war was plain enough, and I accepted it in silence. 
 
 But Tim answered, " I wish that too, when I want to 
 get into the woods in comfort, and there s only one 
 vacant seat, and another fellow beats me in the scram 
 ble. But it s all right to-day," and then he chuckled. 
 
 I never had heard Tim go on as upon that drive and 
 I was wondering if he might have been drinking, 
 when John Pike suddenly said, " Stranger, thar s 
 sumthin beats them river stuns holler." 
 
 "Where? What?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, them trees thar by the pond," he answered, 
 as he pointed to a small pond in a hollow between two 
 hills a little off the road. " See that pond ? See that 
 furder hill ? That s B ar Hill. No b ars now. Fifty 
 year ago, fore thar wuz much travel, B ar Hill was 
 full of em." 
 
 " Well," said I, " what had the bears to do with the 
 trees ? " 
 
 " That s the queer thing," said he. " Wa n t no 
 other b ars like them b ars in these woods. Them 
 b ars eat the tops off them trees and lef em stan in 
 like telegraph poles." 
 
 " But that wasn t possible," I said. 
 
 " Fact," said he ; " fact, jes as true to-day as it ever 
 was, too." 
 
 "But they couldn t," I remonstrated. 
 
 " But they did," he answered. " Them b ars was 
 built so t they could climb up on the tiptop of any 
 tree an hold theirselves like flyin squirrels, and then 
 they eatened their way right down, leavin nothin but 
 them stumps you see thar. State of New York gin a 
 bounty to kill them b ars, fear they d eat up the hull 
 forest. I killed two hundred of em myself. Got ten
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 59 
 
 dollars apiece. G lang, y lazy critters," he cried, and 
 cracked his whip. The team plunged, the buck board 
 lurched ; I heard Pike say, " Them was awful b ars," 
 and then a roar of laughter went up from the two 
 back seats, while the maid of honor made to me the 
 first remark she had volunteered since the drive began : 
 
 " You are to be envied your place on that front seat. 
 You have a most entertaining companion." 
 
 " Right, ma am," John Pike answered, " I be ; and I 
 ain t no liar nuther." 
 
 Whereupon there was another laugh, and Wendell 
 said, " No, John, you re no liar. Alvah Dunning is the 
 only liar in the woods." 
 
 John turned to the company behind, the most 
 serious face a mortal ever wore. " That s so, Squire," 
 he said. " It s scandalous what an awful liar Alvy is. 
 Nobody don t believe nothin he don t say." 
 
 An ominous cloud hung over the mountain as we 
 came out into the open beyond the long hill leading 
 up from the North River Inn. There were lightning 
 and thunder, and the rain came on with incredible 
 speed. There was no shelter possible, and the ladies 
 were in a panic. But Wendell was an old woodsman. 
 He made John stop ; took out the rubber blankets, 
 asked the ladies to stand ; wrapped a blanket about 
 the skirts of each ; had them put their hats in their 
 laps under the blankets ; put a rubber coat on each 
 one, and a rubber tarpaulin on each head. 
 
 " Ladies," he said finally, " you will go absolutely 
 dry. Let the rain soak, it will not touch you. We 
 four men will have to take it. I m sorry for you, 
 gentlemen," speaking to his seat companions, " but it 
 can t be helped. The Dominie and I are equipped 
 for just this thing. The storm will not last very long,
 
 60 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 and the day is not cold. We ll be all right." And 
 then the tempest broke. The maid of honor had on 
 ray coat and hat, though she did not know it. The 
 rain swept down in sheets. John Pike kept the 
 horses moving as rapidly as he was able. Once only 
 he spoke : 
 
 " This ere rain s wetter on the under side than tis 
 on top. Alvy sez it goes up agin, dry side up. Sez he s 
 seen it goin up. Sez the sun draws it. Do you 
 b leeve that, Squire ? Do you b leeve rain goes up 
 agin ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, John ; I guess that s so." 
 
 " Wai, if you sez so, I ll take er down, Squire. But 
 if the side of that ere rain that goes up is dry, I wish 
 the Old Man up there would send her down bottom side 
 up. I do, Squire. It s bad for bosses wet side down." 
 
 I never had seen such a sight as greeted our eyes 
 when the clouds were driven eastward by the wind. 
 Twenty miles beyond, high up against the infinite 
 azure rose the masses of the Adirondacks. For forty 
 miles from north to south they swept, blue, rugged, 
 irregular and fascinating in outline. From the mo 
 ment that storm-cloud passed until we turned into the 
 Indian Lake road, great Blue Mountain and pictur 
 esque West Mountain were not once out of range. 
 The guides call Blue Mountain "The Elephant." 
 That is the figure the outline makes against the sky, 
 looking from the east. 
 
 John Pike spoke, after the two ladies had lavished 
 fine phrases on the wonderful scene. Said he, " Squire, 
 the Elephant hain t got no furder south than when you 
 was in last. He seems to hev got stuck. Probably s 
 waitin for Alvy to help him. But Alvy s too busy 
 lyin ."
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 61 
 
 " You don t seem to have a high opinion of your 
 * Alvy, Pike," I said. " Don t the guides like him ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, Alvy s popular," he answered ; "all liars 
 is. You talk to ary guide in the woods, an he ll tell 
 you in the eye-dentikle languidge I m usin , ary one of 
 em will, every guide in the woods likes Alvy, but 
 me. " 
 
 " By me meaning you, John," said I. 
 
 "Not by a long shot;" was the answer; "meanin 
 hisself." 
 
 There was a great laugh, and the maid of honor said, 
 " Mr. Pike ! " 
 
 " Ma am to you," said he. 
 
 k; Where is the Elephant ? " 
 
 flight forninst ye," said he. " The Squire calls 
 him Blue Mounting. But I don t see no sense in it. 
 The hull gallery s blue. Don t you know what the 
 Big Book sez, It s distance sends enchantics into view, 
 an makes the mountings look forever blue. Parson 
 Kempshire from New Jersey larned me that. Ma am, 
 the hull bunch is blue, but there s only one Elephant." 
 
 " But, Mr. Pike," said the elder woman, " if the Ele 
 phant is that mountain, what do you mean by his not 
 moving?" 
 
 " Mean, rna am ? Just what I said, ma am. He 
 hain t moved a foot since the Squire was in las year." 
 
 "Why, of course," the lady replied. "Mountains 
 can t move." 
 
 " The Elephant can, ma am," he answered. " Forty 
 year ago, when I fust come in here, he was twenty full 
 mile furder north. He come down a mile a year some 
 times ; half a mile sometimes. But he hain t moved 
 for a year. An I ain t lyin nuther. I never lie when 
 I can think of a truth that will suit me better. We
 
 62 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 leave that to Alvy. He d tell ye the Elephant turned 
 somersaults. But he don t. Ton my word, he 
 don t." 
 
 John was right. There is only one Elephant, and 
 there s only one West Mountain. Wendell called it 
 " Old Snowy," and John called it " French Cap," from 
 the peculiar shape of the top. It lay south and to the 
 left of our road, and Wendell told the ladies that 
 " The Castle of Indolence," where they would sleep 
 that night, was at its base. 
 
 " What is the Castle of Indolence ?" asked the maid 
 of honor. 
 
 " David Thornton s camp," answered Tim. " That s 
 my name for it. It s a place where there is nothing to 
 do, and nothing to do it with, and nothing to show for 
 it after you get it done. It is the lazy corner of the 
 world. The only one who works is Mrs. Thornton. 
 She is a famous cook. The mountain air is a tonic. 
 Old Snowy is behind you, forever on guard. Some 
 times a bear comes into the berry patch behind the 
 castle to save David the trouble of picking the berries. 
 A hermit thrush will sing in a tall hemlock there about 
 eight o clock to-night. A bald-headed eagle will sit 
 on the high top of a dead fir across the lake all day 
 to-morrow, watching for fish. Duty is never thought 
 of up there, and conscience never troubles anyone. 
 There are three cabins ; one is dormitory and parlor ; 
 one is dining-room ; one is David s own home. The 
 three look as if they had been drawn each out of the 
 one next it, like a three-barreled telescope. The spaces 
 between the houses are covered porches, and the 
 porches run all along the fronts too. Greatest place 
 in the world for an idler. I wish your party would 
 stay there a week. I d take you to the top of
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 63 
 
 Snowy, and show you such a panorama as you never 
 saw." 
 
 Then the voice of the girl, whose eye could flash 
 like cold steel, spoke: "Thank you, Mr. Wendell; I 
 think one night in such a place would exhaust even our 
 capacity for indolence, and you gentlemen might find 
 us more troublesome than we have been on this drive." 
 
 And I understood what she meant, though Tim did 
 not. 
 
 When the storm had spent itself, we four men were 
 soaked. Wendell and I were in old clothes, prepared 
 for such Mayday mishaps, but the other men had 
 fared ill. Their new spring suits were ruined. Tim 
 took our rubber coats from the ladies and put 
 them upon the men ; wrapped them tightly about 
 them, and the rubber blanket about their legs. 
 
 " You ll steam yourselves dry before we reach 
 Locke s," Tim said, " and you won t take cold ; but I ll 
 not vouch for what may happen if you don t keep 
 wrapped." 
 
 The two men must have been uncomfortable, but 
 there was no other way, and I was glad to get Bruce 
 Fraser into as uncomfortable a state as I could. 
 
 When we reached Indian Itiver Tavern, there was a 
 stop for fifteen minutes for rest. All alighted and 
 entered the snug little wayside hotel. We men went 
 to the office, which served also as bar-room, and there 
 wrung a little of the water from our dripping coats. 
 Fraser drank whiskey heavily during our brief stay, 
 though Wendell and the older man took only enough 
 to prevent cold. Our companions informed us that 
 they were going directly on, without stopping for 
 supper at Locke s. I proposed to Tim that we keep 
 them company, but he would go no further.
 
 64 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 As a result of his three glasses of whiskey at the 
 tavern, Fraser, during the rest of the ride, was drunk 
 not hopelessly or stupidly so, but so unsteady that 
 I saw it would not be safe to trust him in a canoe with 
 another person. Three guides, with their boats, were 
 to meet the party at Locke s, and I told John Pike to 
 see that they loaded the two women in one boat, and 
 one man and a part of the luggage in each of the other 
 boats. I did not mean to have the maid of honor put 
 in peril of her life. 
 
 Our companions went directly from the buckboard 
 to the boats, where my prearrangement was carried 
 out, the guides flatly refusing to go in any other way, 
 in spite of Bruce s wrath. 
 
 Tim made the men wear our rubber coats and 
 blankets still, and we gave the ladies our heavy camp 
 blanket, with request that all be left at Thornton s 
 Castle, whither we would follow in the morning. The 
 ladies were profuse in their expressions of gratitude to 
 Wendell, and with real regret we saw them row away 
 up the lake. I had been hoping all the afternoon that 
 something would keep them at Locke s over night, and 
 that I then might get the sort of opportunity with the 
 maid of honor for which the afternoon had prepared. 
 But they were gone ; and when I thought the whole 
 episode over, I remembered that in spite of all her 
 courteous manner she had addressed but one sentence 
 to me, beyond those made necessary by social conven 
 tionality. 
 
 At supper Tim said, " Who was that girl, Dominie ? " 
 
 " You know all I do, Tim : her name and the fact 
 that she was at Harry Sinclair s wedding, as I was." 
 
 " Is that all you know ? " 
 
 " Every bit."
 
 TIM GIVES ME AN OUTING 65 
 
 " Where does she live ? " 
 
 "Idon tkno\v." 
 
 " Well, Dominie, she s the most beautiful girl I ever 
 saw ; and if I were in your place " 
 
 " Oh, hush, Tim ; you re not in my place. She s 
 gone. Let her be gone." 
 
 Tim looked at me with a queer look, whistled, and 
 said, " I ll go down and look the boat over." 
 
 It was nearly dark when Tim came back, reporting 
 everything in order and ready for a start. Sitting on 
 the floor of the porch, with feet on the steps, elbows on 
 knees, and his face in his hands, gazing out over the 
 lake, he said presently : 
 
 " You bluffed me about the girl. I ll try another 
 tack. Who s the man ? " 
 
 " Stupid," I replied, " didn t you hear her say he 
 was her brother ? " 
 
 " Oh, bother the brother. Be square. Who was 
 the young sprig that you don t like, and who doesn t 
 like you ? " 
 
 " Why, I introduced him to you. If you ve forgot 
 ten his name, it s Bruce Fraser." 
 
 " Well, why don t you like him ? I know why I 
 don t he s too fond of his gin. I don t care for that 
 sort. He s engaged to the girl, I take it, and I m 
 sorry for her." 
 
 "If he is, it s none of your business, nor mine. 
 She ll find out her mistake some day." 
 
 " See here, Dominie, I never saw you so cranky be 
 fore. Are you ? By Jove ! I believe you re in 
 
 love with her yourself ! " 
 
 " Shut up, Tim. I hate Fraser he s a drunken 
 fool and I never expect to see her again." 
 
 When we reached " The Castle of Indolence," to-
 
 66 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 ward noon next day, the party had gone on to Lewey 
 Lake. But in David Thornton s guest-book the older 
 man had written his own name, and following that 
 were the words, " wife and sister, Newark, N. J." 
 Then came Fraser s name, also of Newark. I smiled 
 and thought, " Well, my lady, I have at least learned 
 where you live." Tim had gone out into the woods 
 with his gun. I lay in a hammock on the porch be 
 tween two of the three log houses which make the 
 " Castle of Indolence," with a smudge-pan sending up 
 resinous smoke to drive off blackflies. I was reading 
 Carlyle s " Diamond Necklace." 
 
 Tim came back, looked over my book, and said, 
 "That necklace vanished through the Horn Gate of 
 Dreams, I believe." 
 
 I answered with a laugh, " Yes, that s what it did." 
 
 " But the girl ! " said Tim. " It s Newark, isn t it, 
 Dominie ? No Horn Gate about that." 
 
 " Yes, Newark," I said. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying," he went on, " if I were in 
 your place " 
 
 " Dinner, Squire. Dinner, Mr. Dominie," sounded 
 a child s voice. And we went to dinner, and there 
 were bear steak and five kinds of pie.
 
 YI 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 MID-AFTERNOON Friday had come. My 
 sermons were not ready ; for the morning, 
 though spent in study, had been fruitless. 
 The calls which had been planned for that day had 
 been made. The westerly-facing porch of my home 
 was a charming place in the summer afternoon, and I 
 was enjoying its comfort, tilted back in a great arm 
 chair. There was a book in my hand, but my read 
 ing wits were wool-gathering. Each time my fingers 
 turned a leaf, the face of a girl would look out at 
 me, a girl wearing a yellow oilskin hat arid coat, 
 wrapped in a rubber blanket. She was in a buckboard 
 on the Blue Mountain road, and the drenching rain 
 poured down relentlessly ; yet she was laughing in 
 girlish glee as she saw her brother and Wendell and 
 me walking up the road, soaking and dripping with 
 the rain. Repeatedly I shook off the hallucination, 
 and with determination began to read. Repeatedly 
 also the lines of the book ran together, my eyelids 
 closed, and my head dropped forward ; then down the 
 chair went with a thump to the floor, waking me with 
 a start. The influence of " The Castle of Indolence " 
 was not yet out of my brain. Out of one of the most 
 satisfying of those little interludes between girl and 
 book, I was waked by the rumble of the Concord 
 coach that brought passengers from Camblet, on the 
 railroad, eight miles away. 
 
 67
 
 68 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 I sleepily watched the coach driving away from my 
 house, and at the same moment noticed a big man 
 standing on the porch near me, laughing heartily. I 
 heard him say, " Juist like all the preachers ; workin 
 hard ere the day wanes." 
 
 It was David Henderson. Too much surprised to 
 realize anything but his presence, not awake enough 
 to know exactly where I was, I imagined that Hen 
 derson and I were together in the Jersey City station, 
 and my first words were, " Yes, there are trout there, 
 big ones." 
 
 Then he roared again, and when his laughter had 
 subsided, cried, " Wake up, man ! Throw down the 
 buik. Gie me your han . Gie me a welcome." 
 
 Fairly aroused by that, I grasped his hand, saying, 
 " Mr. Henderson, I m glad to see you here. Give you 
 a welcome ? Well, I should say. You caught me ; 
 indeed you caught me. Can you take a trout as 
 unawares as you took me ? " 
 
 " That I can, an ye gie me the chance," he replied. 
 
 " I wish I could give you the chance," I answered. 
 "But you are too late, Mr. Henderson. It s late 
 June. The trout have gone to deep water. Did you 
 come fishing ? " 
 
 " What else would I come for ? " he asked. " I 
 crossed your river in yon stage. It s a gey-lookin 
 river." 
 
 " Yes, that s unexcelled, that river," said I. "But 
 you re too late." 
 
 " Losh, man, ye dinna ken me. Do I luik like a 
 man that is ever too late for anything he wants ? " 
 
 " All right, you shall make your trial," I said. 
 " But come in now, let me show you to your room," 
 and I started for the door.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 69 
 
 "No," he spoke very quickly, almost impatiently, 
 "I ll no go in. I ll be after castin a fly." 
 
 " But you re too late in the day," I said. " To-mor 
 row I ll see you have good sport at some spring-holes, 
 if I can find a guide for you." 
 
 " I m no too late in the day," he insisted. " Your 
 trout are no differ frae ony ither trout, an they all 
 know when Davie Henderson casts his fly." 
 
 " "Well, wait until to-morrow," I said once more. 
 
 "Man, you a preacher, and talkin to an elder 
 aboot to-morrow ? Dinna ye ken there s no to-mor 
 row ? To-day was to-morrow yesterday, an to-mor- 
 row ll be to-day to-morrow." 
 
 "Well," I said, " there s no time to go to the spring- 
 holes in the to-morrow that to-day was yesterday, 
 anyway." 
 
 " Time ? Spring-holes ? " he retorted. " What do 
 I care for time or spring-holes ? Isna the river juist 
 beyond ? What s to hinder castin a fly noo, richt 
 noo, juist doon that bank yonder ? " 
 
 " There s nothing to hinder," I said, " except that I 
 know Greenton River trout better than you do, and 
 the shadows are deep under the banks at this time of 
 day, and there s no deep water there." 
 
 " Nonsense ; trout will rise to my fly at midnight if 
 I say so. I tell ye I ve got to go doon and speak a 
 word wi those trouties to-day." 
 
 " All right : we ll go down, but it is a fool s 
 errand," and straightway we bore his luggage into 
 the hall. There he opened up his fishing-case and 
 produced a fly-rod, one of the lightest I had ever seen, 
 his book of flies, and a bottle of whiskey. I said : 
 
 " See here, Mr. Henderson, our trout do not drink 
 whiskey. I ll go show you the best accessible place
 
 70 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 to cast a fly, but I m the preacher for that church 
 there, and I will not be seen in company with any 
 such helps to angling as you have in that bottle. 
 You ll have to excuse me." 
 
 " Fash ! dinna be uneasy : it s only for a libation to 
 the gods. Come along noo." 
 
 The Presbyterian church in Greenton stands upon 
 a bluff, one hundred and fifty feet above the river. 
 Perfectly familiar with it from boyhood, I went 
 down the zigzag path on the run, but Henderson was 
 stout and clumsy. He was puffing and blowing like 
 a porpoise before he had gone forty feet, and calling 
 out: 
 
 " Man, do ye think I want to dee before I get a 
 chance to mak a cast ? I m too much o a man to 
 dee in a wee feckless toon like this. Wait till I get 
 ma breath." 
 
 " I ll wait when I get to the bottom," I called back. 
 " I thought you were a fisherman." 
 
 "I am a fisherman: the best i this toon the day; 
 but I m no wild animal to go racin doon precipices. 
 Wait, I tell ye." 
 
 But my laugh as I got to the bottom was my only 
 answer. When he finally came up with me his face 
 was as red as a boiled lobster. 
 
 Oh, that Greenton River ! How fresh, how clear, 
 how cool its waters come from the distant hills to lave 
 the feet of the gravel banks made by the glaciers 
 thousands of years ago. Out of the sides of those 
 bluffs come sparkling streams of ice-cold water. 
 Where they flow into the river, the trout lie at the 
 bottom of the reefs or at the lower edges of the 
 pools. Near one of these rivulets, Henderson reached 
 the edge of the river, and in an instant he was trans-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 71 
 
 formed. Kneeling by the ice-cold rill, he dipped his 
 palm full of the water. Then lapping and tasting, 
 and lapping again, he said, "Aye, there ll be trout 
 there." Next, having adjusted his fishing-rod and 
 chosen his flies, he produced his flask. He stood for a 
 moment like one lost in thought : then, lifting high 
 the flask, he poured out upon the air enough for a 
 man to drink, and said as if he were a priest at a 
 shrine, "Here s to ye, Izaak ! Ye hae drunk my 
 draught full many s the time. Likewise ye hae 
 brought the cast and the rise o the trout thegither. 
 Noo bless the cast and the rise, as ye hae dune for 
 me full many s the time." 
 
 That was the strangest act I ever saw performed by 
 a Presbyterian elder. 
 
 The timber growth was heavy on the bank where we 
 had descended, and I had no thought of stopping. To 
 cast a fly without hopelessly tangling the line in the 
 low-growing branches was next to impossible. But 
 when I started up the stream, Henderson would not 
 move. 
 
 " Here s the place to cast," he said doggedly. 
 
 " But you can t do it here," I answered. 
 
 " Who telt ye I couldna ? " 
 
 " Well, nobody ever does." 
 
 " An dinna ye suppose I would be knowin that ? 
 That s juist the reason I m stoppin here." 
 
 I couldn t budge him. It was cast there or nowhere. 
 As he began casting, I watched him with mute admi 
 ration at his skill. With a side swing he whipped his 
 line this way and that, letting out a little more with 
 each return until he dropped his fly just at the edge 
 of a long pool. There was a break as a large trout 
 rose, and at the instant Henderson struck. It was a
 
 72 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 full half hour before he landed that fish. He was 
 sport incarnate. He knew how. So did the fish. 
 Neither left a trick untried. But the man won, of 
 course. What can a fish do against a man ? I sat on 
 a rock and watched. Though I had lived on that 
 stream for years, I had never caught such a fish. The 
 common belief was that no trout would rise to a fly 
 anywhere in the course of the stream through the 
 town. The boys could once in a while snare one with 
 a slip-noose made of braided horsehair. But here had 
 come a stranger who, at his first attempt, destroyed 
 all tradition. And with an air of triumph he turned 
 to me. 
 
 " Man, didn t I tell ye ? " he said. 
 
 He kept at the sport only a little longer, but when 
 we returned to the parsonage he carried three fish, of 
 which the largest weighed five pounds, and the small 
 est a trifle over two pounds. Henderson was in high 
 glee. 
 
 "Ye see, it was the libation to old Izaak," he 
 chuckled. 
 
 It was dark when we came up from the river, and I 
 knew the tea-table had been waiting long. I hurried 
 my guest to his room to prepare for tea. That gave 
 me time to recall to my mother my first meeting with 
 him and to tell her how utterly unexpected was this 
 visit. I was not quite sure how she would like him. 
 Very strong in her likes and dislikes was my mother. 
 She was sixty-five years old, religious by nature and 
 circumspect by training. She had seen husband and 
 four children embark on the strange voyage over 
 unseen seas into unknown lands. I was her youngest 
 and only remaining son. She had given me the best 
 education her means would afford, and had been filled
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 73 
 
 with unutterable joy when I was called to the Presby 
 terian church in Greenton. A native of that village, 
 she had seen it grow from a hamlet to a prosperous 
 country town ; and as the wife of one of its foremost 
 citizens, she had been active in every good work. But 
 she Avas an old lady now. Her hair was white, and 
 very beautiful. She parted it in the middle, brushing 
 it smoothly down and catching the white curls on 
 each side by a short tortoise-shell comb. A little cap 
 with a lavender ribbon was her head-dress. She was 
 an old-fashioned lady, who belonged to another age, 
 but who had brought its grace and loveliness down 
 into the present. She had been able, in spite of sor 
 row, to keep her heart fresh, her mind clear, and her 
 thought vigorous about all the things that transpired 
 from day to day. The New York Tribune she 
 read each week. For every happening of that time 
 she had her own interpretation, and to convince 
 her that she was beaten in an argument was dif 
 ficult. 
 
 Not until Henderson came down to supper did I 
 have opportunity to present him to my mother. As 
 I heard his foot on the stairs, we hastened to meet 
 him. I thought my mother very beautiful, and was 
 pleased when with a courtier-like bow, he greeted her 
 saying, " It is a delight to be in so pleasant a home, 
 madam, and I see why I have become so interested in 
 your son." 
 
 "I am delighted to hear that," she made answer. 
 " I am interested in him myself ; he is my only one 
 now that is, my only one here. We are glad to make 
 you welcome to our Greenton home." 
 
 I saw that his old-time courtliness had won her. 
 Turning to me, Henderson said like a flash, " An is
 
 74 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 this all the women ye ve got ; juist a mither ? Is 
 there never a wife s mither around ? " 
 
 " No," I replied, laughing, "there s no wife s mother." 
 
 " Well, that would be all right. Wife s mithers are 
 no the things for poor preachers an ye ken the 
 New Orleans man told me ye were a poor preacher." 
 
 The insinuation disturbed my mother. 
 
 " Mr. Henderson, he is not a poor preacher. He is 
 a good preacher, a very good preacher," and the 
 dear lady bridled back as only old ladies of a past 
 generation can. Henderson was equal to the occasion. 
 
 " That does great credit to your heart, madam. An 
 he s a better preacher, I doot, a far better preacher 
 than he would be, were ye no his mither." 
 
 My mother liked a compliment. Smiling, she said, 
 " I think tea is ready." 
 
 When we were in our places, I asked my guest to 
 say grace. As he responded, there came into his 
 speech the flavor of that talk in the train. 
 
 " Oh, Lord, mak us thankfu for what we hae, and 
 for what we hae na : for ane s juist as good as the 
 ither, since it s Thy work anyway. Amen." 
 
 I dared not look at my mother, but I thought I felt 
 a little shake of the table from her side. Henderson 
 was surety queer when he entered the realm of religion. 
 
 "D ye believe in profession of releegion, madam?" 
 Henderson said this to my mother almost in the same 
 breath with his " Amen." He was beginning with 
 her as he had with me. 
 
 But she turned him from the discussion for which he 
 was evidently longing, by saying : " I certainly do. 
 But, Mr. Henderson, I have not thanked you yet for 
 the honor you have done us in accepting my son s 
 invitation to be our guest."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 75 
 
 "Invitation? I never had any invitation. I juist 
 came. I wanted to see if the youngster was leein 
 aboot thae trout." 
 
 " Well then, let me thank you for feeling sure we 
 would be hospitable, and that you would find open 
 doors, even if not invited." 
 
 " But I didna feel so. I didna ken whether that 
 youngster and his wife would make me welcome or 
 no. But, speakin o the wife," with a sudden change 
 of tack, " I beg your pardon for not askin for her 
 before. Why dinna ye bring her in ? We re havin the 
 tea withoot her. Is she sick or awa , or are ye ashamed 
 o her ? Ye telt me there wasna any wife s mither, but 
 there s a wife somewhere, of coorse, ye bein a bishop." 
 
 " No," I broke in, " there isn t any wife. I wish 
 there were, but there isn t." 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon. She s deed, then ? Ye re a 
 widower ? How lang since she s deed, man ? Why 
 don t ye wear a weed, an where s the baby ? " 
 
 I answered, " Mr. Henderson, you re all wrong. 
 There never was any wife, so she is not dead ; and I m 
 not a widower, and there is no baby." 
 
 " Do ye sit there and tell me that ? You a preacher, 
 an no wife ? Dinna ye ken the Scripture ? A bishop 
 must be the husband of one wife ? Or perhaps it s 
 engaged ye are, an the happy time is comin ? " 
 
 " No, it is not engaged I am, though I would like 
 to be. The truth is, I never saw but one girl I had 
 the least desire to win for my wife, and I might just 
 as well try to win the love of the original statue of 
 the Venus de Milo." 
 
 " Is that so, dear boy ? " my mother exclaimed. " Is 
 there a girl somewhere by whom you ve been en 
 slaved ? "
 
 76 
 
 I had never told my mother about the maid of 
 honor. I could not. All that experience around old 
 Paoli had sunk too deep. 
 
 But ere I could make reply to my mother, Hen 
 derson said, " Not another lassie i the world for ye, 
 eh?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Henderson, not another one." 
 
 " No more trout i that river than those I caught ? " 
 
 " I don t know," I answered. " Not many more 
 like the big one, anyway." I had caught the drift of 
 his remarks. 
 
 " Oh, yes, there are, man ; any quantity of em for 
 him who kens how to catch em. No more girls i 
 the world, that ye d have ? What do ye, up here in 
 the country, know aboot girls? There s lots o girls. 
 The right fly an the right cast will get the trout." 
 
 " Well, let them have them, that can get them," I 
 returned a little wearily. " I shall never strive to find 
 the place where they are, nor to choose the right fly, 
 nor make the right cast." And as I spoke, the scenes 
 at old St. David s and our meeting after in the moun 
 tains, and her beauty, and her power to hold me fasci 
 nated, came over me, and I longed for her as I never 
 had before. 
 
 " Oh, losh, man, ye will. I know a girl, my ! but 
 I know a girl. If ever ye see her ye ll have your 
 rod an line out in a minute. Ye ll say ye never saw 
 so beautiful a woman before in all your life, an ye ll 
 tell truth, too." 
 
 " Who is she ? " 
 
 " Hear him ! Never saw but one girl. Never 
 shall see another. An I say, I know a girl, an he 
 jumps like a trout wi his Who is she ? Oh, ye rise 
 easy."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST T7 
 
 " Well, but who is she ? " 
 
 " I willna tell ye. That would spoil a the fun I m 
 goin to have wi ye. Would you, madam ?" 
 
 " No, I do not think I would," answered my mother. 
 " He might go to find her, and then I should lose my 
 boy." 
 
 " Don t fear," I answered, as we rose from the table. 
 " I shall not go seeking this girl, nor any other, while 
 you live, mother." 
 
 It was Friday night. I supposed Henderson would 
 be off in the morning, having tried the fish to his 
 satisfaction. I realized that if he should remain, I 
 would not in the least know what to do with him. 
 
 There was no possible question as to how my day 
 must be spent. There would be hard study all day. 
 When we reached our little library my mother and he 
 returned to the old subject which seemed to be always 
 on his mind. What they were saying did not partic 
 ularly interest me, but all at once Henderson turned 
 to me : 
 
 " Say, parson, are there any guid spots i the river 
 where we can go to-morrow ? " 
 
 I could only answer, " I hope you will not consider 
 me inhospitable, but we can t find any spots, good or 
 bad, to-morrow. I m out of it. I can t give you and 
 your trout one moment." 
 
 " Ye won t go fishin ? " he asked in undisguised 
 amazement. 
 
 "No. I m sorry, but no s the word. I have two 
 sermons to make to-morrow." 
 
 " What ! not go fishin wi me ? Ye ll no get anither 
 such a chance in a hurry. Why, man, I m the best 
 fisherman in the two states of New York and Pennsyl 
 vania."
 
 78 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " That s probably so. You showed yourself an 
 artist this afternoon. But I can t go. I ve got to 
 preach Sunday." 
 
 " Then there s some friend o yours, like enough ? 
 Some man or boy who can appreciate his privileeges ? " 
 
 Then I thought of Tim Wendell, and said, " Per 
 haps I can find a man. I ll go out and see." If I 
 could get these two men together I would do both of 
 them a good service. I started for the door. 
 
 " Are ye afraid to have me go too ? Would I scare 
 the man ? " said he. 
 
 " Scare him ? " said I. " No, he don t scare. Come 
 on." 
 
 Tim Wendell was not only the most intellectual 
 man in Greenton, but also the best rifle-shot in our 
 whole section, and I had seen him, when deep trolling 
 in Raquette Lake, land a trout in a way that would 
 beat the ordinary guide. Yet he could not take a fish 
 with the fly in the Greenton River. He went always 
 to the little tributaries. I took Henderson s three 
 trout along to show to Tim. They had been dressed 
 and were very handsome. Amazed at the three fish, 
 Wendell eagerly caught at the chance to have a whole 
 day with a real fisherman. He promised to call for 
 my guest at eight o clock next morning, and we said 
 good-night. 
 
 After sitting at home for a little, Henderson said: 
 
 " Ye ll no be able to make thae sermons wi me off 
 after trout, I doot." 
 
 I answered, " Well, I ll try, anyway." 
 
 Very soon my guest said good-night to my mother 
 in his courtliest manner, and left us alone. 
 
 I knew I was in for it. I knew that remark at the 
 tea-table, about the only girl, would have to be ex-
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST TO 
 
 plained. I knew my heart-story must be told before 
 we slept. She sat down on the sofa and pulled me 
 down beside her. 
 
 "Now, boy," she said, gently, "what is it? How- 
 was it ? " 
 
 My heart talked then, though my lips spoke. 
 
 " Mother, she was Phyllis Lorraine s maid of honor. 
 I have seen her on two occasions only. One was at 
 St. David s, and the other was on the trip with 
 Mr. Wendell up to Indian Lake last month." Then 
 I told her the story of the drive. " I learned where 
 she resides only by seeing the entry on the cabin 
 register at Thornton s. She cares not an atom 
 for me. I was courteous to her. But whenever I 
 made attempts to show a real human interest in her 
 and to arouse an equal one in her toward me, she put 
 me off coldly. She is the most beautiful woman I 
 ever saw young woman, I mean. You, blessed 
 mother, you are not in this comparison. I have not 
 moped, have I ? I have been no heartsick lover. 
 Long after St. David s I thought the heyday about 
 marriage had burned out of my blood, but the Indian 
 Lake drive convinced me to the contrary. That night 
 at Locke s was the night of the restless lover. But the 
 ten days at The Castle settled it all. I am through. 
 A happy, love-made marriage I shall never know. A 
 sense of duty to my people may induce me to marry, 
 but never, while you live, mother." And I never did. 
 
 She kissed me tenderly. " You are like your father, 
 my boy. He was a brave man : not for fighting, but 
 for bearing. But you are young, dear, and the girl 
 waits for you somewhere who will be your wife." 
 And that was true also,
 
 VII 
 WENDELL S QUEER DAY 
 
 WENDELL and Henderson made an early 
 start. With misgivings I saw them go, for 
 "Wendell s canoe was one of those cranky 
 Adirondack boats, and Henderson was weighty. A 
 move too swiftly made in playing a trout might easily 
 overturn the frail craft. A dam below Wendell s boat- 
 house sets back the water for about two miles, before 
 it is met by a fall so high as to stop all rowing. 
 Wendell and Henderson paddled easily to the "carry," 
 and passed around with little delay. 
 
 On the walk up to the boat-house and for the first 
 two miles of rowing Henderson was unusually quiet. 
 He was watching Wendell and studying him. But he 
 began to talk almost as soon as they were started in 
 the boat beyond the " carry." 
 
 "Lived here some time, I doot," was his first 
 remark. 
 
 " Yes," was the answer, " some time." 
 
 " Two years, four years, six years ? " 
 
 " Yes, twenty-six years." 
 
 " Ye ken the preacher lang syne, then. D ye ken 
 any guid o him ? " 
 
 " I ve known him from a little boy. I never knew 
 any bad of him," said Tim. 
 
 " But he needs to be touched up a wee bit in spots, 
 I doot." 
 
 80
 
 WENDELL S QUEER DAY 81 
 
 "How? Why? What s the matter with the 
 spots ? " 
 
 " Why, man, yon preacher has spots, dinna ye 
 ken ? He s ignorant o the Scriptures. An he thinks 
 works mak a man releegious. I wish I had your 
 opportunity. I d mak somethin o him." 
 
 " What would you do with him first ? " 
 
 "I d marry him to a lass I ken. They re made for 
 each ither. He ll have her some day. But he s goin 
 to mak her wait too long, I doot." 
 
 Tim laughed and answered, " I don t know you, and 
 you may be the best match-maker in the world, but I 
 think you d find this particular one the hardest you 
 ever tackled." 
 
 " Hush ! Hist, man, I ll tackle yon trout. There s 
 a big one juist there. Turn the boat so ma shadow 
 can t fa on him. There, hold her so." 
 
 At the spot they had reached, the road runs close to 
 the river on the north side. There is a little village 
 there, called The Falls, and, of course, a Falls Tavern. 
 The stream is swift and shallow at that point, while 
 across on the south side it is deep, and the current 
 pushes up hard against the bank, and is filled with 
 little eddies. The shade from the big elms on the 
 bank above, falls in the morning on that deep current. 
 Just as the boat shot into the shade, came Henderson s 
 sudden exclamation. Tim manoeuvred the boat, and 
 the Scotchman made cast after cast, but without a 
 rise. But he was not discouraged. He knew every 
 trick of the fisherman s art. 
 
 " Put me ashore," he ordered, and Wendell obeyed. 
 
 There was red clover in blossom on the bank, and a 
 big bumble-bee buzzing around. Henderson caught 
 that bee in his hat, pulled a darning-needle out of his
 
 82 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 fly-case, ran it through the bee. made it fast with a 
 horsehair, came back to the boat, put the new device 
 on his snell in place of the fly, and made another cast. 
 The bee hardly struck the water when there was a 
 swift rush, a great splash, and Henderson had the fish 
 hooked. But he forgot the sort of boat he was in, as 
 I had feared he would. He bent out a little too far, 
 when the fish tried to double on him, and the boat 
 capsized. 
 
 "Wendell was equal to the emergency. He first 
 righted the canoe, then managed to secure the oars, 
 the lunch-basket, the paddle, and various other effects, 
 and dragged them ashore. Turning to look for Hen 
 derson, he saw him standing almost up to his arms in 
 water, fighting with that fish the greatest trout battle 
 he had ever fought. He backed very slowly toward 
 the shallow water, swaying, turning, bending, slipping 
 on the stones of the river bottom, but his eye was 
 never off his line. It was a half hour before he 
 came near the bank, and Tim put out with the canoe 
 and landing-net, and the victory was won. But Hen 
 derson was not only soaked, but shivering, from his 
 long battle in the cold river. 
 
 Tim held up the fish. It was larger than the one 
 taken the night before, and the needle was wedged 
 across its jaws so that it could not be shaken out. 
 Henderson looked at his prize with intense satisfaction 
 for a moment, and then said, " He was richt, lad, in 
 Jersey City, yon time, the preacher man. I thought 
 he was leein , but he wasna. No, he wasna. But it s 
 shiverin I would be, I doot." 
 
 " We ll soon fix that," said Tim. " There s the Falls 
 Tavern. It s comfortable there. We ll get a big fire 
 on the hearth, and hot drinks, which will set us right."
 
 WENDELL S QUEER DAY 83 
 
 " Aye, lad, we ll go to yon tavern, an the hot 
 fire an the hot drinks will be gey fine an we ll put 
 a drop of Scotch \yhiskey in the drink. I m nae 
 inebriate, but I ken when I need Scotch whiskey." 
 
 "Well, I guess you ve earned your right to the 
 spirits by your work in landing that fish," was Tim s 
 generous comment. 
 
 "Wasna that fine ?" said Henderson. "I telt the 
 preacher laddie that I was the best fisherman in t\vo 
 states. An I am. Ye ken it. Ye couldna hae dune 
 yon trick." 
 
 They had reached the tavern, and the big fire had 
 been started. Hot tea had been brought, and Hender 
 son poured liberally into each cup from his own 
 whiskey-flask. The landlord spread their wet coats and 
 woollen shirts close to the fire, wrapping each man in a 
 big buffalo-robe. As they sat watching the fire, Hen 
 derson broke out all at once, " Man, are ye releegious ? " 
 
 Startled by the abrupt question, Wendell answered, 
 " That depends on what you mean by religion." 
 
 "No, it don t," the Scotchman almost shouted. 
 " Ye ken whether ye re releegious or no, no matter 
 what I mean by it. Are ye releegious ? " 
 
 "Well," Tim answered, "if by religion you mean 
 pure religion before God even the Father, which is to 
 visit " but he got no further. 
 
 "Losh, man, it s you, then," he broke in. "I ken 
 ye; ye re the very man. I hoped ye were. I thought 
 ye were. I ve been wan tin to get at ye. Ye re not 
 a church member ; ye mak no profession o releegion. 
 Ye go talkin o works, an ye ve no releegion, not a 
 hap orth." 
 
 "What do you know about me ? " Tim said inno 
 cently.
 
 84 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Everything aboot ye. Ye re the infidel, ye re 
 the man that says God doesna care what a 
 man believes. Ye say, what God cares aboot is 
 whether a man wears boots too tight for his feet or 
 no." 
 
 " You and the parson must have talked about me 
 pretty steadily last night," said Tim, " but I did not 
 think he would call me an infidel." 
 
 " Oh, ye re wrang, all wrang. "We didn t talk aboot 
 ye last nicht. I kent all aboot ye before. I heard all 
 aboot ye last winter in New Orleans." 
 
 Then Tim was wicked. " My friend," he said, " the 
 water in the river, or the whiskey in the bottle, has 
 been too much for you. Or perhaps it is the fire. I 
 haven t been in New Orleans since before the war, 
 and those who knew me are dead. Don t you want to 
 lie down and rest ? " 
 
 " I rest ! " roared Henderson. " Do I luik like a man 
 that water can muddle, or whiskey can addle, or fire 
 can faze ? An I m no leein . I did hear aboot ye in 
 New Orleans. I was at the St. Charles Hotel last 
 winter. At dinner, a travelin man, seated at the 
 same table wi me, began talkin . I asked him, as I 
 ask almost everyone, if he was releegious. He said he 
 wasna, an he only kenned two men who were. Then 
 I telt him he might add another tae his list, for I was, 
 an probably more so than either of his two. When I 
 asked him who they were, he said they both lived in 
 Greenton, and one o them was you. That young 
 man s name was Joe Smith. What hae ye to say 
 noo ? " he ended triumphantly. " Are ma brains 
 diluted, or is ma truth drunk ? " 
 
 Tim did not know just what to say, and before his 
 answer was ready, Henderson resumed :
 
 WENDELL S QUEER DAY 85 
 
 " Floored ye! Got ye on the first cast ! Dinna ye 
 ken ye ll never go to heaven ? " 
 
 Then Tim answered quickly enough, " I don t want 
 to go to the heaven you are thinking of." 
 
 " Dinna want to ? Dinna want to go to heaven ? 
 Why ? Tell me that, man ; why, now ? " 
 
 " Because I prefer to have heaven come to me," 
 Tim retorted. " I want to fasten on a good large 
 piece of heaven before I die, then I can take it along 
 with me. See ? " 
 
 " No, I dinna see. Ye ll never go to heaven, Mr. 
 Wendell. Ye re a lost soul. Ye re an infidel." 
 
 Tim thought to humor his companion, for he was 
 enjoying the whole episode. So he answered, " Per 
 haps I never shall get into heaven, as you say, but I m 
 getting a good bit of heaven into me every day. What 
 do you mean by an infidel ? The word means unfaith 
 ful. I m not unfaithful to my wife, or my family, or 
 my business, or my creditors, which is more than can 
 be said for many Christians. What is a Christian ? 
 Do you know ? " 
 
 Henderson began to get a little warm. " Do I ken ? 
 Who does, if I dinna ? A Christian is a man who s 
 got releegion ; a man who professes Christianity, ye 
 ken ; a man who belongs to the church and kens his 
 
 catechism ; a man " and he would have continued, 
 
 but Tim was laughing so loudly he couldn t finish. 
 Henderson gave him a look of infinite pity, and then 
 said, " Are ye dry ? " 
 
 " No," Tim answered, " I drank enough tea and 
 whiskey, and I have that boat to paddle home, and I m 
 not going to try to do it, drunk." 
 
 " Tea and whiskey ? What s that to do with your 
 bein dry or no bein dry ? " he said. " If ye re dry, I
 
 86 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 want to see ye cast for trout over yonder. I hear 
 ye re a great fisherman. Ye may be, but ye re no so 
 guid as I, an ye re a mighty poor boatman." 
 
 " All right," said Tim. " I ll try to find a safer 
 boat." He did not relish the thought of being dumped 
 into the stream again. 
 
 Henderson was quick as a lawyer with his objection. 
 " But yon boat is safe enough. Ye re the only 
 unsafe element in this excursion. An ye a fisher 
 man, an afraid of a little water ! I dinna care if ye 
 did capsize me wi your blunderin . I ll row the little 
 boatie, an ye do the castin , an I ll no tip ye oot, as 
 ye did me. I m a better oarsman than ye, I doot." 
 
 But Tim was inflexible, and the Scotchman, growl 
 ing, assented at last. Tim found an old flat-bottomed 
 boat, and gave Henderson the oars. He rowed up 
 stream for a mile, and then, holding the boat steady 
 with the oars, let her drift slowly on the current. 
 
 " Now show what ye can do," he ordered. Tim cast, 
 and cast, and cast, trying fly after fly, but in vain. 
 Not a trout rose. They had floated halfway back to 
 the Falls Tavern, when Henderson suddenly began 
 pulling up-stream again until he reached the spot where 
 Tim had begun. Then he dropped the oars and took 
 up his own rod, adjusting a fly and a dropper. " Look 
 here," he said, "ye unbeliever; I ll show ye how to 
 cast." Back went his arm ; out went the line ; those 
 two flies dropped down on the water as if they were 
 real living things. Not an inch of the line touched 
 the water anywhere. As he began to skim the flies 
 back toward him, there were two breaks in the water. 
 He struck with beautiful skill. His reel whizzed for a 
 minute, as if the fish would go off with all his line in 
 spite of him. Carefully he touched the drag and
 
 WENDELL S QUEER DAY 87 
 
 began to play his fisb. He bad two fast. As he 
 brought tbem in, he said, " Oh, ye beauties, ye ken the 
 difference t \vixt a Christian an an infidel." Placing 
 them in his creel, he cast again with the same mar 
 velous skill, getting the same reward. 
 
 Then Tim spoke: "Mr. Henderson, you beat the 
 world. I give up all pretensions. I have never seen 
 your equal with rod and reel." 
 
 Henderson interrupted him. " Man, didna I tell ye 
 so ? Ye didna believe it whiles. But I kent it, man, 
 I kent it." 
 
 Tim paid no attention to the conceit. He went on, 
 " I can take trout in the brooks, but none in this river. 
 You are a wizard. You call me infidel. I ll call you 
 a Scotch wizard." 
 
 " Man, I m a Christian. I m no wizard. Doesna the 
 guid Buik say, A man that hath a familiar speerit, 
 or that is a wizard, shall surely be put to death ? 
 I haena a familiar speerit, an I amna a wizard, 
 or I wad hae been put to death. But I m a great 
 fisherman." 
 
 " That you are," said Tim. " Come, cast again now, 
 in that eddy there." 
 
 But Henderson would not. He answered, " Nae, I 
 must na. We ve enough for the day. It s no weel to 
 kill too many." 
 
 Tim begged to try just once more. " Let me see 
 you do it once more. Perhaps I can learn." 
 
 " Na, ye canna learn. Ye re no fisherman. Ye cast 
 very pretty like, but ye re not a Christian. I am. 
 D ye ken that a fish is the sign o Christianity ? " 
 
 Lying down on his back in that old scow, Tim 
 Wendell laughed until he was tired. Then he said, 
 " Mr. Henderson, you re worth while. I wish you
 
 88 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 were a preacher. I d go to hear you. I would, on my 
 honor." 
 
 " Hoots, man ! Infidels have no honor," and he 
 picked up the oars and rowed back to the Falls 
 Tavern.
 
 VIII 
 
 MY JABBOK 
 
 MY sermons were never made. The day 
 passed, leaving no results in form of prep 
 aration for the service of the Sabbath. 
 My brain had baffled me. It would not obey the 
 behests of the will and act in lines coherent and re 
 lated. Henderson had come in just at nightfall, and 
 presently tea was served. He wanted to talk. That 
 his story of the day would be worth hearing, I well 
 knew. But, too absorbed in self to be an interested 
 listener to the best of stories, I was only able to main 
 tain creditably an external courtesy, and as soon as 
 supper was over I excused myself, in spite of his pro 
 tests, and, leaving him to my mother, shut the door of 
 the study upon the whole outside world. If it had 
 been possible to escape from the duty of preaching 
 next day, I would have done it. Such a thought was 
 folly. The hours were relentless. To-morrow was 
 coming fast, and my weary brain was at the point of 
 frenzy. A crisis of some sort was at hand, and, 
 illogically enough, I fancied Henderson to be the cause. 
 That made me almost hate him. 
 
 I did not understand clearly then what I was to 
 learn later, that psychologic moments for upheaval or 
 for crystallizations of life and character must come. 
 One of these moments had come that night to me. 
 
 To account for the experiences of that night is even 
 
 89
 
 90 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 now difficult. My brain was not under the spell of 
 any hallucination. Logic is one thing. Its laws we 
 know. But the psychologic is vastly different. Some 
 of its phenomena defy law. To me, sitting alone, my 
 life and the bearing of it on the church in Greenton 
 were the only subjects that the mind presented. My 
 pastorate of that church had lasted now for almost 
 three years ; but the results shown by those years, 
 along spiritual lines, had been but meagre. Every 
 thing moved as everything had done during the years 
 preceding my installation. Now and then there were 
 accessions enough to the church, by letter, to keep the 
 membership undiminished in spite of natural losses. 
 But there were no conversions. Of course, this had 
 troubled me much. There were hours at " The Castle 
 of Indolence," while Tim would be off alone with his 
 gun, when no thoughts would come to mind but of 
 the spiritual conditions in the church. But these 
 hours of introspection brought no satisfaction. The 
 religious condition of the town had been in my thought 
 through the whole winter. But no plan for effecting 
 betterment had appeared. All that day I had worked 
 in vain. Sermon-thought would not come. Com 
 mentaries and books of sermons had served no pur 
 pose. Many pages, destroyed almost as soon as writ 
 ten, had been of no avail. The only sentence that 
 memory has kept, out of that day s suffering, is one 
 which all day long kept ringing in my ears as if 
 spoken by a voice, " Your church is spiritually dead, 
 and your ministry is a failure." The change to the 
 supper-table had brought no relief, and, now that it 
 was past, the dull, heavy grind of the day began 
 again. The effort to work had just begun when a 
 knock at mv door called me.
 
 MY JABBOK 91 
 
 "Is that you, mother?" I asked. 
 
 " Does a knock so big as mine sound like a woman s ? 
 I m no your mither, I doot." 
 
 " Oh, it s Mr. Henderson, is it ? " 
 
 " Who else would it be but me ? " he answered. 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " Come oot, man. Let me enliven ye wi a wee bit 
 conversation." 
 
 " No : it s too bad to seem discourteous, but there s 
 work to be done now." 
 
 "It ll be bonnie the nicht on yon porch, wi the 
 cigars, I doot." 
 
 " Yes, bonnie for you, good friend." My voice 
 sounded unnatural to me. " But not for me. You 
 must excuse me. There s work to be done." 
 
 " An ye ll no burn incense for an hour ? Incense 
 to old Izaak, ye ken ? " Then he added, " Man, ye re 
 takin life too hard. Ye ll never succeed in this way. 
 Ye re law-breakin if ye work the nicht." 
 
 "What laws?" I asked impatiently. More than 
 before I was charging my wretched failure of the day 
 to David Henderson. 
 
 " The law of work, man," he answered. " Doesna the 
 Scripture say, Work while the day lasts ? Ye worked 
 the day, an ye ll be wrang if ye work the nicht." 
 
 "Well," said I testily, "it s better to be wrong 
 to-night working, and right to-morrow preaching, 
 than right to-night smoking, and wrong to-morrow 
 from failing in my pulpit. I must write one sermon 
 to-night." 
 
 " Do ye read your sermons ? " said he. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "An there ye re contrary to Scripture, too," he 
 said.
 
 92 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " How ? What Scripture ? " 
 
 " Why, the Scripture says, he that runneth may 
 read, and ye can t run in the pulpit, man. Ye may 
 storm around a bit, but ye canna run." 
 
 And with that I laughed for the first time that day. 
 
 " You are beyond me," I said. " But I can t join 
 you. Go smoke. Go burn your incense. There s 
 work to be done." And at that he went away. 
 
 All that talk had been through the closed door. I 
 did not dare to open it, knowing well that would 
 mean yielding to his temptation. So the door re 
 mained shut, and I remained there alone with my 
 misery. 
 
 When he had gone, ray first impulse was to analyze 
 the situation to seek the cause of the unspiritual 
 church. Was it so because of an unspiritual member 
 ship, or must the secret be found in my own soul ? 
 Was that unspiritual ? There came the sudden con 
 sciousness that a court of judgment had been opened 
 in my life, of which I was both judge and jury, and 
 that conscience as accuser stood before the judgment 
 seat to arraign me. 
 
 " Begone," I cried, but the stern prosecutor would 
 not be deterred from duty by my bluster. 
 
 Steadily she pressed the charge : " You, yourself, 
 have not been a spiritually minded man." 
 
 The indictment made me recoil in spiritual pain. 
 For a little time the conflict was intense, my whole 
 nature protesting. "No, no, no ! I am not unspiritual." 
 In the midst of the struggle a picture framed itself 
 clearly upon my mental background. A long valley 
 lay between rough and towering mountains. A stream, 
 swift and turbulent, brawled through it. The hour 
 was midnight, and the moon had not yet risen above
 
 MY JABBOK 93 
 
 the enclosing heights. By the bank of the stream, a 
 man was pacing nervously under the stars. His head 
 was bowed. His hands were clasped behind him. 
 His step was regular and strong, but he paused at in 
 tervals, as if debating some great question. Suddenly 
 out of the darkness another figure arose unsummoned, 
 and was upon the midnight pacer with an onset vio 
 lent as that of a mortal foe. For hours the two men 
 struggled without advantage to either, now down to 
 the very bank of the stream, now back again into the 
 darker, deeper shadows of the giant oaks. There 
 could be no mistaking the picture. It was Jacob and 
 his mysterious foe. It was myself and my accusing 
 conscience. I paced the room, trying thus to drive 
 away memory and imagination. 
 
 " This is a morbid waking dream," I said, but it 
 would not go. A voice kept sounding through me, 
 " This is your Jabbok. Before the morning dawns, 
 you will have had your struggle and your defeat or 
 victory." And below this growing conviction was an 
 other deeper one the conviction that the end would 
 determine my whole after ministry. 
 
 To take the Bible and reread the thrilling story was 
 the work of but a few minutes. Its import struck 
 home then for the first time. Here was the story of 
 the soul that achieves conquest over itself. Again I 
 saw the man ; saw him through those long night 
 hours ; saw him as the day broke, when victory came. 
 At night he had been beset with fears, and the coward 
 spirit made him dread that sure-coming morrow. In 
 the dawning he was calm and ready for what that 
 morrow would bring. Once more I read the story, 
 and read it yet again, and then, as if I myself were the 
 lone struggler, I fell upon my knees.
 
 94 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 "What was this ? "Was it reaction from an over 
 worked brain ? Was it morbid sensibility clutching 
 at nerves overstrung in moments of introspection ? 
 "Would those nerves snap presently and leave me like 
 a violin of which the strings were broken ? Little by 
 little the tension lessened. Slowly there came the 
 consciousness that self-upbraiding for spiritual failures 
 was worse than useless. God wanted of me construc 
 tion, and not remorse. Keproaches would not undo 
 the errors of the past three years. It was not weep 
 ing passion, but courageous action, that God would 
 have. My sinful omissions had not made others suf 
 fer, save that in this one matter of personal work with 
 sinners I had allowed souls to go out into the invisible 
 loneliness without an insistent effort to save them. I 
 had defrauded no one, as had that wrestler in the 
 mountain gorge, nor had I, like him, been false in word 
 to any. No one could point to my example in public 
 action, nor in personal habit, and say, " You started 
 me in evil." 
 
 But in spite of all that, conscience was facing me 
 like a stern accuser. One by one my public perform 
 ances passed in review ; none could accuse me of 
 slighting or neglecting them. Yet conscience recked 
 not of these things, but, like a sword, plunged herself 
 to the hilt into my soul. The names and faces of men 
 rose before me men who should have been rebuked, 
 but had not been, because I had not dared. There 
 was Mr. Hobart, who should not have been received 
 into the church until he had given evidence that he 
 had consecrated himself to Jesus Christ. His recep 
 tion into membership had only brought reproach upon 
 religion, since people knew he was pretending to be 
 what he was not. There was Elder Harfis, growing
 
 MY JABBOK 95 
 
 rich and mean at the same time, while men were openly 
 questioning which would be the greater, his riches or 
 his meanness. No word had been said to him. Nor 
 had I confronted Elder Martin with the fact that there 
 were people who would not partake of the communion, 
 lest they might be compelled to receive the bread and 
 wine from his hands ; people who had not even been 
 present on our sacramental days through my whole 
 ministry, because they knew his immoral life and 
 worthlessness. For these things conscience came upon 
 me, as a pack of hounds swoops down upon a fox 
 driven from cover, and it was clear she meant to bring 
 these sins to their death-hour in my life. I trembled 
 before conscience, for I was afraid. 
 
 Oh, those hours upon my knees, alone! Hot tears 
 rained clown my face, while the night wore slowly on. 
 The sounds of Saturday night in our little city had 
 grown still. The country people had driven away to 
 their homes. The shoppers from the foundry and the 
 mills had bought their week s supplies and gone to 
 their beds. The giddy girls who floated along the 
 streets in search of something exciting, enlivening, or 
 laugh-awakening, had gone their ways. The lights 
 were going out here and there. I stood before my 
 window now, and saw men come out of Bob s tavern. 
 Jimmie MacJSTaughton went shambling past my house 
 toward his home, moving like a vessel on an unquiet 
 sea. Poor Jimmie ! "Remonstrance had helped him 
 none. He needed to be taken with a strong hand and 
 told, " You must leave whiskey alone, or leave the sac 
 ramental bread and wine alone." The outlook from 
 the window was no relief. I turned once again to my 
 chair and to my knees. But this time my face was 
 lifted to God, and the song of the Psalmist was on my
 
 96 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 lips, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from 
 whence cometh my help." And blended with it 
 strangely enough was the prayer of the publican, 
 " God be merciful to me, a sinner." 
 
 Soon there came an awful sense of how long a lonely 
 night can be. Nights of gentle sleep, when health is 
 perfect and no dull care disturbs, pass like the swift 
 movements of the dreams that flit through them. But 
 nights when every string of the soul is keyed to its 
 last ability to bear; when sleep has fled to other hearts 
 where tension is unknown ; when God has laid His 
 wrestling hand upon a life and brought it to know 
 that its crucial hour has come nights such as these 
 are foretastes of a pain-filled eternity. They are the 
 monuments of great soul crises ; and this was mine. 
 Abraham s " horror of great darkness " was the hour 
 when the " burning lamp and the smoking furnace 
 passed between the pieces" of his sacrifice, but it was 
 the hour also of the great Covenant of Jehovah. 
 This was my horror of great darkness, and out of it 
 came my covenant of power. 
 
 I went once more to the window. The lights were 
 out in Bob s tavern now. There would be no more 
 wretches sent out reeling into the night to find their 
 way to homes cursed by the poverty which their drink 
 ing made. A sense of the vastness of God s universe 
 came over me, and called me out under the open sky. 
 It was long past midnight. Not a cloud fleece was 
 anywhere. Stars, stars, stars ! How far away they 
 were ! I wondered that men ever came to know them, 
 and that human genius had been able to make them 
 reveal the history of their origin. Then came with 
 overpowering force the thought that their origin was 
 in the creative word of God. And this was He whom
 
 MY JABBOK 97 
 
 men say they love and serve ; this was He for whom 
 ray own service had been so poor ; this was He who 
 had become manifest in the flesh that out of that mani 
 festation man might be saved. Out under the stars 
 on Greenton Common, with the church rising on my 
 left hand and Bob s tavern down there on my right, 
 symbols of good and evil over against each other, I 
 cast myself down on the ground by a little elm which 
 Wendell had planted the day of my installation. At 
 the foot of that strange oratory I pleaded with God 
 as never before. The sense of time and place passed. 
 To my ears, almost oblivious to all things of sense, 
 there came suddenly the sound of footsteps ; before my 
 eyes there rose out of the darkness the figure of a man 
 coming toward me the figure of Joe Smith. But he 
 was not in Greenton. Was my brain reeling? Be 
 lieving it an apparition, and in superstitious dread, I 
 ran with all speed back into the house, up to my own 
 room, and threw myself down by the bed, praying, 
 crying again, " Oh, that I knew where I might find 
 Him," yet knowing that it was He Himself struggling 
 with me for the entire mastery over my will. I longed 
 with great longing to surrender, but my stubborn will 
 would not yield. Agony agony agony, in every 
 fibre of my being. The only refuge was in prayer, 
 and the more earnest the prayer the deeper was the 
 agony. I cried for forgiveness, but knew the cry in 
 adequate. Then a voice seemed to say, " It is not for 
 giveness that you need, but to be panoplied for the 
 struggle to which you are being called in this hour of 
 the unseen cross. It is not forgiveness, but the great 
 indwelling in your whole being of the Almighty God. 
 Cry for His blessing. Cry for His power." Then I 
 obeyed.
 
 98 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 In at my window came the first gray streaks of 
 dawn. Surely the crisis was at hand, if this was 
 Jabbok. If the day came and my struggle had not 
 ended in victory, my case was hopeless. My ministry 
 in Greenton would have to end, a thought that brought 
 new grief. And then : oh, wonderful, but true ! 
 there fell upon my spiritual ears the sound of the 
 same voice that Jacob heard, " Let me go, for the 
 day breaketh," and I answered, too filled with emotion 
 to more than whisper, " I will not let Thee go, except 
 Thou bless me." And then, suddenly, peace like a river 
 flowed into my heart. I knew that my Jabbok, like 
 Jacob s, had ended in victory. 
 
 My mother waked me. She had come softly into 
 the room, and was standing over the bed. The sun 
 was streaming in at the window. " You sleep soundly 
 this morning, dear boy," she said. " You must have 
 been up late." 
 
 " Yes, mother, later than usual." 
 
 " Is it all right ? Are you ready for the day ? " she 
 asked tenderly. 
 
 " Yes, it is all right. I am all ready." 
 
 Then saying, " Breakfast is waiting," she kissed me 
 and was gone.
 
 IX 
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY 
 
 THE church was packed. Every place where 
 a person could sit was filled. Men who had 
 not been in church for years were there. 
 People of other congregations had left their own 
 churches for the day. The galleries had not a single 
 vacant seat. In the pew with the dear mother were 
 Mr. Henderson ; a burly gentleman who, though an 
 entire stranger to me, was evidently known to my 
 guest, as they were whispering together ; and Joe 
 Smith, whose presence startled me, while it confirmed 
 the impression made upon me while I knelt by the elm 
 under the stars. That he should be in Greenton was 
 not strange, but that he should have been out on the 
 Common after one o clock at night was a puzzle. 
 
 The cause of the crowd was Henderson. A certain 
 countryman, driving into Greenton, had passed the 
 spot where the canoe upset, just as Wendell had 
 dragged his boat ashore. A word or two had put this 
 farmer in possession of the story, and he had repeated 
 it at Bob r s tavern ; so the whole town knew it. The 
 crowd had gathered to see Henderson, and not to hear 
 a sermon. 
 
 And yet, though my guest was the occasion, the 
 cause was of God. He was about to give me a great 
 opportunity. This was another phase of the wonders 
 of the last twelve hours. My crisis had passed. 
 Greenton s was about to come. 
 
 99
 
 100 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Just before sermon-time, Tim Wendell entered, 
 bringing a chair, which he placed in the aisle near the 
 entrance. That pleased me greatly, for it was wholly 
 unusual, and he had come without solicitation. 
 
 The experience of the night had given me the text 
 that I announced : Isaiah 21 : 11, 12, " Watchman, 
 what of the night ? The watchman said, The morning 
 cometh." To recall the words of the address now, after 
 many years, is impossible. But I remember its general 
 trend. Its beginning and ending are indelibly fixed. 
 
 " For three years, nearly, I have been with this 
 church as pastor ; I have never seen such a sight as 
 greets me this morning. I have as a watchman 
 watched the ways and acts of this whole community, 
 but have seen nothing to make me expect such a 
 congregation as is gathered here to day. Do not for 
 one moment suppose that your preacher thinks this is 
 a tribute to him or his power. He knows better. 
 You have assembled, not because you have a burning 
 desire to hear the gospel, but because you wish to see 
 a man who has done unusual things here in the last 
 two days. That wish I propose to gratify now. He 
 is here in church, just as you expected, but you did 
 not anticipate the good opportunity I am about to give 
 you." Bending over to my guest, I said, " Mr. 
 Henderson, these people have gathered here to see 
 you. They care nothing at all about a sermon to-day. 
 Will you please stand up ? " 
 
 Henderson promptly complied, and to my surprise 
 began to speak. " I am a Presbyterian," he said, " an 
 elder in a Presbyterian church. I am glad to see so 
 large a congregation. I have been told your preacher 
 is a guid man, though not much of a sermonizer ; but 
 if he keeps on as he has begun this morning, he will
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY 101 
 
 give us something to think of that we have never had 
 before, I doot." 
 
 Having spoken thus, he resumed his seat, and I my 
 address. 
 
 " Mr. Henderson has aided me unwittingly. He 
 has just now done so unusual a thing as to strengthen 
 my opinion that we will all remember this day as the 
 most unusual in the history of the Greenton Presby 
 terian Church. Let me repeat the cry of the text, 
 Watchman, what of the night ? It is with great 
 regret that I omit the answer, The morning cometh. 
 That which must be said is, The night is long and the 
 hours are dark. Let no one go away to-day saying, 
 The preacher must have had a bad night ; or He had 
 the blues ; or He has been a great scolder to-day. 
 No one of those things is true. The preacher s last 
 night was the most blessed of all his life ; there are no 
 depressions in his soul this morning ; there are im 
 pressions deep and strong ; not a word that shall be 
 spoken will be in the spirit of the scold. The words 
 of the hour will be plain, probably fearfully plain, 
 but out of a heart that loves you with its every 
 pulsation. This is the turning point in this pastorate. 
 To-day will see the morning begin to come, or it will 
 mark the beginning of the end between you and me." 
 
 I paused a moment. I saw that my mother was 
 very pale, and that Henderson s face was fixed on 
 mine with a tremendous earnestness, while his little 
 Scotch eyes were open wider than I supposed possible. 
 The house was intensely still. 
 
 The next words would have been heard almost if 
 they had been whispered. " The night is long, and 
 the hours are dark. For twenty years there has not 
 been a single spiritual movement in this church. We
 
 102 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 have all of us for the past three years been in a 
 spiritual stupor. 
 
 " About eight months ago, toward the last of Oc 
 tober, three men, strangers to each other, happened to 
 sit at night in adjoining chairs on the veranda of a hotel 
 in the city of New Orleans. One was from Massa 
 chusetts ; one from Pennsylvania ; the third from Vir 
 ginia. One was a Presbyterian ; one was an Episco 
 palian ; the last was a go-as-you-please, free-and-easy 
 man of the world, who strangely enough turned the 
 conversation into religious channels, and, drawing 
 from his own experience, said that church members as 
 a rule were shams. He declared he knew only two 
 men who were what he called religious ; one of them 
 made no profession of religion, and would not even go 
 to church, and was regarded by his fellow-townsmen 
 as a lost sinner. Naturally, a hot discussion followed 
 such a speech. The other two men declared he was 
 not right, but he stuck to his proposition. He said he 
 knew a church which lately had been joined by a man 
 who had no more religion than an oyster : he gave his 
 name, told where he lived, said he was intemperate, 
 profane, and a religious humbug generally. He in 
 sisted that this man, as far as he could see, was a fair 
 sample of the church member. One of the others 
 combated this with such earnestness that the con 
 versation lasted until midnight, and ended without 
 reaching any settled conclusion. That s the way with 
 discussions, as a rule. The more men discuss any 
 proposition, the tighter will each participant hold to 
 his own opinions. 
 
 "Do not think this a preacher s romance. Truth is 
 not more true. I could give you the names of the men 
 I speak of. I have said that they settled nothing.
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY 103 
 
 But what they failed to settle, I myself have settled. 
 The indictment brought by the non-church-member was 
 both true and false. 
 
 " It was false because he does not know all churches 
 and all towns. The town of which he spoke was 
 small enough for him to have a fair knowledge of its 
 people, or at least of its business people. In that very 
 town there are some devoutly pious, holy women, and 
 probably one or two men in every one of its churches 
 who are really religious men. But the fearful indict 
 ment, after all its falsity is allowed, is yet far too 
 true ; and of Greenton, as I know, it is very true. 
 
 " Ever since I learned of that New Orleans episode 
 I have been watching the people of this town. There s 
 many a professor of religion among you who does not 
 possess a particle of it, judging by your lives. There 
 are men here, just like that one of whom the New 
 Orleans stranger spoke men with no more religion 
 than an oyster." 
 
 Again I paused. Wendell s face was fairly shining. 
 He was leaning forward, listening intently. There 
 was a rustle of people moving for rest, then once more 
 dead silence. 
 
 " Don t forget," I went on, " that church-membership 
 and salvation are not identical. Salvation means that 
 a man has been saved out of and away from sin. 
 Away with the thought that it means saved into the 
 special privilege of sinning. Salvation does not mean 
 that a whiskey bottle, that was not respectable when 
 a man was outside the church, becomes so when he 
 gets inside. 
 
 " The frauds scattered about in churches here and 
 there deceive no one. If they happen to be rich, 
 their money may keep them in the church, but your
 
 104 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 out-in-the-world-profess-nothing man laughs them and 
 the church to scorn. Is A or B or C a Christian ? 
 Go ask the question at the Greenton Club, if you wish 
 to know. Its members can tell you. Go ask the club 
 steward. He will know. 
 
 "An honest, out-and-out wicked man, making no 
 profession, will never hurt religion. Sometimes some 
 of these men who move in respectable society are 
 asked to enter the church. They never will. It is 
 possible to respect such men. Let me illustrate. 
 
 "The last time I was in New York, I called on a 
 friend of mine, a business man who is in Wall street, 
 as the saying goes. I asked him why he was not a 
 Christian. Said he, For two reasons. First, there 
 are so many shams in this whole Christianity business, 
 that I will not have anything to do with it. Second, 
 I myself cannot be a Christian. I ought to be, for the 
 sake of my children. I do want to be, sometimes ; 
 but when I face the proposition coldly, I back down. 
 I m in Wall street. I have to be. I gamble in futures 
 all the while. I bought a million in " Erie " last week. 
 All the money I had in the world was thirty thousand 
 dollars. I sold to-day at a handsome profit. Now, if 
 I were to become a Christian, I should have to stop 
 all that sort of thing. And I cannot. 
 
 " That man was wrong : dead wrong. But he was 
 too honest to become a sham Christian, as some before 
 me now have done. Let me give you an illustration 
 of a different sort. 
 
 " There was once a whiskey distiller in central New 
 York. He was growing rich from his business. But 
 he came under powerful conviction of sin. He had the 
 same fight that the broker is having. It was Christ 
 and no whiskey, or Whiskey and no Christ. Christ
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY 105 
 
 won. He rolled his barrels into the street, knocked 
 in their heads, broke down his still, and made a pro 
 fession of religion. He did more. He began living 
 that religion out before men, so that everyone could 
 see it, and that was worth while. Profession meant 
 something to that old whiskey distiller. But there 
 are people before me now to whom it means nothing. 
 Some of you belong to this church ; some of you be 
 long to other churches in this city, where you ought 
 to be now, instead of here out of sheer curiosity. 
 
 " The night is long, and the hours are dark. I am 
 speaking in almost broken-hearted love. Probably I 
 myself am in fault that after three years of ministry 
 here the dawn has not yet begun to break. But it 
 shall break for me, God willing if not here, then else 
 where. Let me come near to your lives. 
 
 " What made you join the church ? Did you want 
 a passport to respectability ? You will obtain it, if 
 you have money enough. The men who keep their 
 religion in their pocketbooks can tell you how much 
 it will cost. Did you want entrance to the best so 
 ciety ? Did you want to be in the swim ? Did you 
 think society would admit you to its inner shrine be 
 cause in its fashionable presence you walked down the 
 church aisle to make a profession of your faith ? " 
 
 I saw Hobart, whose seat was conspicuous, turn very 
 red and shake his head as if in anger. It was some 
 thing to have assurance that one shot had hit the 
 mark. Hobart s head-shake did not stop me. I went 
 on : 
 
 " Profession that has no basis is a lie the worst 
 sort of lie, for, being lived daily, it can never be put 
 out of sight. A spoken lie may be forgotten after a 
 while, but a lived one keeps right on acting itself out
 
 106 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 every day. A generous-hearted young fellow looks at 
 one of you lie-livers, and says, I will not be like that ; 
 I will have none of that nonsense charged up against 
 me. There s a man in this town who talks like that. 
 You call him an infidel. He is not. He is one of 
 God s exemplars of pure and undefiled religion. You 
 men who masquerade as Christians, but who are really 
 hypocrites, think your real characters are not known. 
 But you are not partridges. There are no social 
 thickets into which you can run for cover. The un 
 derbrush of the social world was long since cleared 
 away. Some one is always sure to see. Some one has 
 seen you and has talked about you, for the church 
 about which those three men talked in New Orleans, 
 that night eight months ago, was this very church. 
 
 " And now this sermon and this service are ended. 
 The night is long and the hours are dark. Whether 
 the watchman shall ever cry The morning cometh, 
 God knows. It rests with you. I cannot ask you to 
 join in a closing hymn. You would not mean its 
 words if you sang them. I cannot say, The grace of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ and the fellowship of the Holy 
 Ghost be with you all. You do not wish for any fel 
 lowship of that Holy Spirit. There is no use in ask 
 ing God s blessing upon you in benediction. He will 
 not bless you. The service is ended." 
 
 I left the pulpit, stepped into the little room behind 
 it, took my hat, walked back into the church and 
 down to my mother s pew. 
 
 " Come, mother ; come, Mr. Henderson," I said. 
 " We will go." 
 
 The stillness of that congregation was like that of 
 solitude. We three walked down the aisle. Tim 
 Wendell, who was by the door, slipped out and waited
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY 107 
 
 for us in the vestibule. Not another person in the 
 church even rose from his seat. As we passed "Wen 
 dell, he said, " God bless you, my boy : you ll need it ; 
 you ll need it badly." 
 
 " He has, Tim," I answered, " He has already. I 
 have had my Jabbok." 
 
 No one of us spoke a word, as we walked the short 
 distance to the house. I went to my study for a few 
 moments, as was my custom. I should have been 
 tremulous and fearful, I suppose ; but instead there was 
 a sense of great spiritual exaltation, and I knew the 
 Angel of the Covenant had been at my right hand. 
 
 At dinner Henderson was the first speaker. " Ye 
 didna read the sermon, the day I doot." 
 
 " No," I answered. 
 
 " No, ye didna read," he said again. " An ye didna 
 run, man, ye didna run." And that gave my mother 
 her voice. She could not trust herself before. 
 
 " My boy," said she, " how did you dare ? You 
 cannot remain here as pastor any longer now. 
 Your people will not bear that. You will have to go 
 away, and you will have to go alone. I am too 
 old to leave the old home. The roots of my life have 
 gone down too deep." 
 
 There were tears in her voice, though her self-con 
 trol was steady. Henderson answered for me. 
 
 " Don t trouble, madam," he said, more gently than 
 I could have imagined possible. " Yon speech will 
 keep him here for fifty years, if he will stay so long. 
 But he willna need to stay. Pulpits will be open to 
 him everywhere." Then, with a sharp glance at me, 
 " I don t agree wi his basal principle, ye ken. It is 
 works. An that isna good doctrine ; it is believin 
 that counts. But in spite o that error, I tell ye,
 
 108 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 madam, this day has made a man oot o your boy. I 
 told him the morn, at breakfast, ye ken, to go it loose 
 the day, and he did wi a vengeance." 
 
 The Greenton Presbyterian Church was composed 
 very largely of Heidelberg Confession Dutch. They 
 were slow and stubborn people. What they had been 
 wont to have, they insisted they always must have. 
 To disperse from a church service without a benedic 
 tion was a thing unheard of and impossible. I was 
 not astonished at what happened. 
 
 Dinner was nearly finished, when the door-bell 
 rang. The spokesman of the three men at the door 
 explained that they were a committee from the con 
 gregation. 
 
 " Pastor," he said, "the people say they never went 
 out from church on Sunday without a benediction, and 
 they cannot go now. Not a soul has left. Those two 
 strangers are in your pew yet. They want you to 
 come over and dismiss them." 
 
 " No," I answered. " God will not give His bene 
 diction to people who honor Him with their lips, but 
 whose heart is far from Him. I cannot go over." 
 
 When, about an hour afterward, another committee 
 came, they found me still fixed in my purpose. Hav 
 ing begun an heroic experiment, I was intent on car 
 rying it through to the end. 
 
 At two o clock another committee came. " Are the 
 people still there ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, pastor." It was Elder Harfis who led this 
 committee. 
 
 "What are they doing ? " I said. 
 
 " Discussing the sermon, discussing you ; three or 
 four have prayed. They do not want to go without a 
 benediction." But I could send back no other message.
 
 NO BENEDICTION SUNDAY lot) 
 
 At three another committee came, and at four 
 o clock another. Henderson heard the voices and 
 came to their help. 
 
 " Ye d better go, lad, I doot," he said. 
 
 " I cannot, Mr. Henderson. I thought you were a 
 fisherman." 
 
 " So I am. What s that got to do wi it ? " 
 
 " I m a fisher of men, Mr. Henderson. I made my 
 cast this morning. It s not yet time for the landing- 
 net." 
 
 At five o clock another committee came. Strange 
 committee it was : Joe Smith, Jimmie MacNaughton, 
 and Elder Harfis. Joe pleaded for the people. Then 
 I yielded. 
 
 Present again with the congregation, I said : 
 
 " There will be no service here to-night. I want 
 you to go home and spend this night in prayer. To 
 morrow morning at six o clock, I will preach in this 
 place. Let no one come to that service, save those 
 who have been on their knees before God, those who 
 are penitent and ready to renounce their sins. Now 
 I will dismiss you with a benediction." 
 
 But the words of that benediction I had never 
 spoken before, nor have they crossed rny lips at any 
 time since. 
 
 " And now may the convicting and converting 
 power of Almighty God be among you all, to harass 
 and disturb until you repent and are reconciled to 
 each other and to God ; and for this end may His 
 grace be with you all. Amen." 
 
 That night my mother and I sat in the growing- 
 darkness of the long June twilight. Henderson had 
 gone out with the stranger, who had proved to be his 
 friend, Major George Ardman, of New York. There
 
 110 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 in the darkness we sat alone, and for long neither of 
 us spoke. 
 
 At last my mother said, " Come over here close to 
 me, my boy." 
 
 Of course I obeyed. 
 
 " How came you to do it ? " she said. 
 
 Then I told the story of " My Jabbok." And as I 
 told it, I did what I had so often done in the child 
 hood years, knelt by her side, and the tears that 
 could no longer be restrained fell unchecked. Her 
 hand was on my head. Oh, how gently it rested 
 there, and I heard the voice which had sung lullaby 
 in the bygone years saying now with ineffable sweet 
 ness the great words which have comforted so many 
 weary hearts : 
 
 "Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all gen 
 erations : before the mountains were brought forth, 
 or ever Thou hadst formed the earth and the world, 
 even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art God. 
 . . . Thou hast set our iniquities before Thee, 
 our secret sins in the light of Thy countenance. 
 . . . Eeturn, O Lord, how long ? and let it re 
 pent Thee concerning Thy servants. . . . Bow 
 down Thine ear, O Lord, bow down Thine ear and 
 hear us, for our trust is in Thee." 
 
 And a great peace filled my soul.
 
 HENDERSON RETURNS TO HIS OWN COUNTRY 
 BY ANOTHER WAY 
 
 NO one who was present at that early meeting 
 on Monday morning will ever forget it. 
 My guest did not attend. He had explained, 
 the night before, that a business matter would occupy 
 him. That struck me as strange, for I had supposed 
 that his only possible errand in Greenton had been 
 search for sport. He had surely found that. But 
 neither his presence nor absence would affect condi 
 tions that morning, for people s thought had become 
 occupied suddenly in a vastly different way. That 
 the church w r ould be full \vas assured, for two elements 
 of human nature were in operation : the one was 
 curiosity, the other was conviction. 
 
 My expectation was realized, for the house was full 
 to the doors. Had it been empty, the silence could 
 not have been more profound. Joe Smith, and Major 
 Ardman, and Tim Wendell, all sat in my mother s 
 pew. Wasting no time with preliminaries, not even 
 pausing to be seated, I faced the congregation and 
 began to sing : 
 
 " There is a fountain filled with blood." 
 
 The effect was electric. Before the first verse had 
 been sung, men and women were sobbing and singing 
 through their tears. At the end of the hymn, I 
 prayed. As the prayer ceased, before I could begin 
 
 111
 
 112 THE MAID OF HONOll 
 
 to speak, Joe Smith led off with the same great hymn, 
 and once more the congregation sang it all through. 
 During the singing of the last verse, Elder Martin rose 
 and made his way toward the pulpit. When he reached 
 the open space, he looked up at me and said, " Pastor, 
 may I say a word ? " 
 
 The moment was intense. Every eye was on the 
 man, every ear was waiting my answer. " Yes, 
 Elder Martin," I replied, " you may say what is in 
 your heart." 
 
 He was a large man, with a fair face, and his hair 
 was streaked with gray. He had been an elder for 
 more than twenty years. His voice was very low. 
 " I am a sinner," he began. I interrupted him. 
 " Dear elder, we are all sinners." " Oh, no, no," he 
 broke in, " I am the sinner. My life has been an in 
 sult to truth. I know what I deserve from Almighty 
 God. I have cast myself on His mercy. Now I cast 
 myself on yours. Forgive me, my pastor ; forgive me, 
 my friends. You gave me office and I took it at your 
 hands. I have been unworthy ; now I give the office 
 back to you. I resign my eldership here. Please 
 accept it, and may God bless you, and have mercy 
 upon me." Then he sat down upon the pulpit stairs 
 utterly heart-broken. 
 
 A storm of emotion then would have wrecked the 
 whole movement. To avert it, I plunged into a talk 
 on Tim Wendell s text, " And to keep himself un 
 spotted from the world." It was entirely unpremedi 
 tated, but that made no difference. People were 
 there to listen. For a half hour my mouth was filled 
 as a prophet s might have been, and the effect of the 
 message I can never forget. When the address ceased 
 there was absolute silence. Not a soul stirred. For
 
 HENDERSON RETURNS 113 
 
 a quarter of an hour the hush of God was upon every 
 heart. Then a voice began, " The sacrifices of God 
 are a broken spirit ; a broken and a contrite heart, 
 O God, Thou wilt not despise." 
 
 The voice was that of a woman. To tell whence it 
 came out of the great throng was impossible. " The 
 sacrifices of God are a broken spirit," was repeated 
 by another voice, and then by others together, until 
 finally the whole company as one person sobbed out, 
 " The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit." Then 
 the voice of Major Ardman, deep and strong, took up 
 the strain, " A broken and a contrite heart, O God, 
 Thou wilt not despise," and he followed that with 
 such a prayer as I never heard before nor since. 
 
 The next scenes are indescribable. The Holy Ghost 
 came down upon us all. Greenton had never known 
 two such hours in her history. 
 
 Mr. Henderson had asked on Sunday night if he 
 could have breakfast at seven o clock on Monday 
 morning. In his courtly way, he apologized for the 
 unconventional request, and said, " I hae an engage 
 ment at eight o clock wi The Eggleston Foundry 
 and Machine Company people, and must leave Green- 
 ton, if I can, by twelve o clock, to reach Camblet in 
 time for the airly afternoon train doon." When the 
 meeting was over at half-past eight, I asked Major 
 Ardman home to a cup of coffee with me, but he said, 
 " I must hurry to see the Eggleston people. David is 
 there now. I ought to have been, but I could not 
 deny myself the experience I was sure awaited me 
 in the morning meeting." So the Major went to find 
 Henderson. 
 
 At my own breakfast it occurred to me to drive
 
 114 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Henderson and the Major to Salisbury instead of see 
 ing them go off alone to Camblet. It would relieve 
 the tension of the last forty-eight hours and rest me. 
 The only difficulty would be to get my men before it 
 was too late to make the train at Salisbury. But for 
 tune favored me. About five minutes past ten the 
 two men came together to the parsonage. I made 
 known my plan, told them I would take Joe Smith 
 along for company home, and by ten-thirty we were 
 all seated in a good surrey, bowling along the Green- 
 ton River on the road to Salisbury. 
 
 No four persons ever had two more pleasant hours. 
 That is one of the most beautiful country drives im 
 aginable. The scenery is varied, and for eight miles 
 one is scarcely out of sight of the peerless river. It 
 is deep and still, under banks shaded by forest trees 
 here ; and full of ripples shining and flashing in the 
 sunlight there. Here wide meadows with grazing 
 cattle, and there a village and a mill-wheel tell of life 
 asking the stream for help in the struggle for daily 
 bread. "When the road brought us first in sight of 
 the river, as we left Greenton behind, Henderson, 
 roused into animation, broke out with rapturous ex 
 pressions of delight. 
 
 "Ton s a fine stream for trout. Tis a pity ye 
 havena a fisherman in your town. Ye say the man 
 "Wendell s your best fisherman, an he canna fish. He 
 might, if he stood by a burn, wi bait, but he canna 
 cast a fly. An he canna sit still in a boat. Did ye 
 ken how he tipped me into the river up to my arms, 
 juist as I had fastened that biggest fish ? An I had 
 to play ma trout an back across that stream at the 
 same time. I almost lost him. No one but a fisher 
 man could have saved him. I tell ye, I m the great
 
 HENDERSON RETURNS 115 
 
 fisherman ! An , man," he finished earnestly, " I d 
 have ye to know that river s no a hot-air furnace." 
 
 There was a great laugh over that speech, with its 
 innocent bluster. When we were still, I said : 
 
 " Mr. Henderson, the water of the river is very wet, 
 but you were dry enough when you came to supper." 
 
 " Do I luik like a man that would come to supper 
 to a table graced by sic a lady as your mither, wearin 
 clothes soakin wet an in which I had fished a day ? " 
 
 "No, you don t. But why didn t you tell us at 
 supper ? " 
 
 "Man, do ye ask? "Who could hae towd ye any- 
 thin at supper that nicht ? Your face was as long as 
 a horse s jowl, an yer mouth shut as tight as the lips 
 o the Sphinx. Ye wadna talk an ye wadna listen, 
 an I was talkin fine." 
 
 " That s so, Mr. Henderson. I was preoccupied. I 
 had been through an unsatisfactory day. But noth 
 ing engrosses me now. There s not a single carking 
 care along, and I ll listen yes, I will. Come, now, 
 what happened to you and Tim ? " 
 
 " Ye better ask what didna happen, I doot." 
 
 "Oh, I know what did not happen. You did not 
 fail as a fisherman. I saw them, those five fish. They 
 were fine." 
 
 Just then we came in sight of the scene of the mis 
 hap, and Henderson in real glee shouted, "There, 
 that s it. Yon s the place where I hooked the big 
 one, and juist down there s where I backed ashore, 
 an yon s the little tavern." And then going on from 
 that point he told in his absurd, but always interest 
 ing way, the whole story. 
 
 While Henderson talked my own memory was busy 
 with Joe Smith. The coincidence of the two men
 
 116 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 meeting in my church, and being together in their 
 present very familiar relation, and with me, impressed 
 me forcibly. As Henderson talked I thought of Joe. 
 
 His actions in these two days had shown in him a 
 different mood from any ever seen in him at college. 
 As he had told Henderson, he had been a member of 
 my class, but as he left at the end of Freshman year, 
 our acquaintance was not very intimate. We were 
 members of the same Fraternity, but were not very 
 close friends. 
 
 Although Joe was smart, he was not a good student. 
 His standing in the class was low. Utterly unsophisti 
 cated, in my Freshman days, and withal of a highly 
 impressionable temperament, Joe shocked me beyond 
 expression. In manner he was uncouth ; in dress, 
 slovenly ; in thought, coarse ; in speech, at times, very 
 profane. He knew more ways of doing nothing, and 
 doing it well, than any other man in college. As the 
 boys said, he always " got there," but where, it would 
 have troubled anyone to tell. When he did arrive, 
 there was never much evidence that he had brought 
 anything with him, or done anything on the way. 
 Although generally regarded as one of the brightest 
 men in the class, there yet was never an occasion on 
 which he shone. He was also widely known as the 
 laziest man there had been in the college for a genera 
 tion. The college wag was wont to say : 
 
 " When Joe Smith begins to declaim, in chapel at 
 rhetorical, all hands can go to sleep he ll never stop ; 
 he s too lazy." 
 
 He might have led his class in scholarship. He was 
 too lazy. He might have been the best debater. He 
 was too lazy. He might have been the best all-round 
 athlete, but he scorned the diamond and the gridiron
 
 HENDERSON RETURNS 117 
 
 alike. He \vas too lazy. He kne\v it. He \vas ac 
 customed to boast of it, as his chief and only distin 
 guishing characteristic. He would say : 
 
 " After you fellows are all forgotten, I ll be remem 
 bered as the laziest man in the college for a century." 
 
 Such had been the Joe Smith of college days. Now, 
 after eight years, he had come back into touch with 
 my life. Lately, as he had come to town from time to 
 time, it was evident that some sort of influence was 
 bringing him and me into a mutually closer relation, 
 and the feeling grew that in some way we should 
 greatly affect each other. On this morning s drive to 
 Salisbury, as he sat beside me, this feeling kept forcing 
 itself against my consciousness like a throb of pain. 
 
 Mile after mile along the stream we drove, now 
 close to its banks, and now back on the hills. From 
 the summit my guests had their first glimpse of the 
 great Green Mountains. Rupert Mountain, clothed in 
 its garb of enchantment, that translucent azure which 
 is New England s glory, stood straight before us. 
 Mount Anthony loomed grandly up toward the south, 
 as in the days a hundred years before, when Ann Har 
 ris and her associates prayed all day in the forest at 
 its foot, that success might crown the efforts of their 
 fathers, sons, husbands, and brothers out on Benning- 
 ton battle-field. 
 
 Henderson talked incessantly. The motion and the 
 pure air were elixir to him. He asked keen and curious 
 questions about the historic spots we passed. I was 
 right glad, for the brisk conversation kept yesterday 
 entirely out of my mind. Nearer and ever nearer 
 came the mountains. The day was superb. The 
 white ships of the sky, with silvery sails glistening, 
 laden with freight of moisture, cast shadows on the
 
 118 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 mountainsides, and, floating over, gave ever new and 
 wonderful tints to the whole landscape. Joe Smith 
 would never have been chosen as judge of paintings 
 for an art-gallery exhibit, but the God of his being 
 had breathed into him a soul that loved the beautiful 
 in nature. Frequently he interrupted Henderson s 
 flow of talk with expressions of delight as rapturous 
 as those of a child. It was no wonder. A holiday 
 drive was, to this man of laborious life, a thing un 
 usual ; and this drive was itself unequaled. 
 
 The road left the river at last and turned across the 
 plain into which the foothills of the mountains spread. 
 Henderson s exuberance was past. Joe relapsed into 
 silence. The Major took up the conversation : 
 
 " How long have you been pastor in Greenton ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " About three years." 
 
 " Have you ever thought a time might come when 
 a change of pastorate would be desirable ? " 
 
 " Yes. Every young minister must think of that : 
 his limitations in a first pastorate are so great, his real 
 accomplishments so few, and his mistakes so many." 
 
 " If a good opportunity should offer for a change, 
 would it be attractive ? " 
 
 "JSTot now. There is a work to do in Greenton 
 which must be done, and which God has surely laid 
 on me. Until it is done, no proposition to change 
 would interest me in the least." 
 
 " What s that ? Ye wadna go, an ye had a guid 
 opportunity ? " It was Henderson s voice. 
 
 " No, I would not." 
 
 " An why no ? " 
 
 " There is work to be done which God has laid on 
 me, and which began yesterday morning."
 
 HENDERSON RETURNS 119 
 
 " An was runnin awa from the church beginnin 
 the work o God ? " 
 
 " Yes. He told me to go." 
 
 " He towd ye to go, man ? An leave the people 
 undismissed an unblest, an ye sittin quiet in yer 
 hoose ? " 
 
 " Yes. He told me to go." 
 
 " Man, are yer wits wanderin ? Ye played wi 
 Providence yesterday. He ll no abide ye." 
 
 " I think you are wrong, David." The Major was 
 speaking. " Had you been at the early meeting to-day 
 you would not speak as you do." 
 
 " Oh, aye. I mind ye said the preacher preached 
 graun the morn. But the people will forget it a be 
 fore the Sabbath. Ye ll have to go, lad. If Geordie 
 Ardman has a church to offer ye, he d better do it, 
 for ye ll need it ere six months go, I doot." 
 
 " No, he won t," said Joe. " I ve heard the town 
 talk this morning. He ll never leave here because 
 folks want him to go." 
 
 " But didna I hear Mr. Hobart tellin Bob, when I 
 was askin for a team and driver to Camblet, that he d 
 drive the preacher out o town before the snow flies ? " 
 
 " Oh, Hobart be " but Joe stopped short. I 
 
 knew he meant to swear, and wondered why he did 
 not. 
 
 "I m glad to see, Mr. Smith, that ye respect the 
 preacher if ye dinna fear God," said Henderson. 
 
 " See here," said Joe. " Hobart can t drive one of 
 the preacher s old shoes out of Greenton. He ll stay 
 right here, and you ll hear great news from Greenton 
 yet." 
 
 Just then the whistle of the down train blew at a 
 station three or four miles from Salisbury. But we
 
 120 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 were almost at the end of the drive. Henderson was 
 sitting just behind me. He laid his hand on my 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Hear me, man," he said. " I towd yer mither yes 
 terday ye had done a graun thing. I leed to her juist 
 a bit. It was necessar to keep her in heart, dear lady. 
 But I fear ye made a mess o it. Ye won t hear the 
 last o it. It s no because ye were wrang, but it s be 
 cause it was an innovation. Presbyterians don t like 
 innovations. But when yer trouble comes, lad, juist 
 let David Henderson know. He ll no see ye suffer for 
 tellin the truth." 
 
 That was like Henderson; and Major Ardman 
 added, " And if you think ere long you would be in 
 terested in a proposition for a change, don t fail to let 
 me know." With that they both stepped out on the 
 platform of the station. Just as the train moved off 
 Henderson called from, the rear platform, "An I ll 
 never fish in the same boat with that infidel again. 
 Man, it s dangerous." 
 
 And I knew both propositions were true, for Wen 
 dell would never trust himself again in a boat with 
 the Scotchman, expert with a rod though he was.
 
 XI 
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 
 
 AS we drove down the main street of Salisbury 
 homeward bound, Joe said, " I can make one 
 of em out, but I can t the other. That man 
 Ardman is easy. He s big and burly. But did you 
 ever hear such a prayer ? " 
 
 " I agree with you, Joe. You haven t said all you 
 began to say, but I agree. And yet, old man, I be 
 lieve Henderson is the better man, because he is the 
 stronger character." 
 
 " Why didn t he come to meeting this morning, 
 then ? I tell you he s one of those sham elders. He 
 talks a lot, but when it comes down to business, he ll 
 do you every time, or I m mistaken." 
 
 " No, Joe. You re wrong. I agree with you, and 
 I don t, both. I can t make Henderson out yet. But 
 that s the Scotch of it. He pretended that he came 
 to Greenton to fish, but he didn t. He and Ardman 
 met here by appointment, I think. Henderson was 
 over at the Eggleston Foundry early. Ardman joined 
 him there. It has been said for some time in town 
 that the firm was shaky. Henderson told me, last 
 night, what he must do this morning." 
 
 " All right. But if you ever see more of him, watch 
 out. That s all I ve got to say." Then Joe stopped 
 talking. For three miles he did not speak a word. I 
 tried him on many lines, and finally gave it up. There 
 was a dense grove of white pines about a mile from 
 
 121
 
 122 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 the point where the road comes back to the Greenton 
 River. The trees stand very close together, and 
 almost no light streams through. As we drove along 
 past, Joe said suddenly, " Tie the horses, old friend. 
 Let s go in here. I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Can t you talk while I drive ? " 
 
 " No, I can t. I don t want to see a sight but your 
 face and those trees. No one can see us in there but 
 God, and He s all I want to have see us." 
 
 The request was strange, but I humored him, and 
 we went into the grove. Taking a seat at the foot of 
 a pine, I waited for Joe. He remained standing, 
 looking intently at me. All at once he said : 
 
 " Dominie, get on your knees, facing that tree." 
 
 " What s this, Joe ? " I said. " Are you crazy ? " 
 
 " Do it, I tell you," he said. I obeyed him, wonder 
 ing what whim held him. " Sure as fate," he said, 
 " that was you. That was just the way you looked 
 last Saturday night under the elm on the Common." 
 
 " Did you see me out there ? "Was that you coming 
 when I ran into the house ? I thought the figure was 
 a brain spectre. That is why I ran." 
 
 " "Well, it was I all right," he said. " I had been on 
 a little tear for two days, and I drank too much that 
 night after getting in from the road. I was half 
 drunk. I couldn t sleep. Every time I dozed I would 
 wake dreaming of my old mother. I went out to walk 
 it off. "When I saw you under the tree, and you 
 jumped and ran, I thought it was more of the jag. 
 But it wasn t : it was you. , 
 
 " Yes, Joe, it was I." 
 
 " What were you doing out there ? Do you do that 
 often ? " 
 
 " No," I said. And I told him the story.
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 123 
 
 He seemed profoundly moved. When the narration 
 was finished, he said, " Dominie, will you pray right 
 under this pine for me ? I ll watch the horses." So 
 there in the grove I carried that poor soul s case to 
 God. 
 
 "When the prayer ended, he said, " Say, Dominie, I 
 think the Church is the worst old humbug this side 
 of Erebus. Half its members are shams. I m afraid 
 that Henderson is, though I don t know. But I ll tell 
 you what I m going to do." I had never seen him so 
 earnest. " I m going to join your church before I 
 leave this town. I have given my heart to Christ, and 
 He s no humbug. So into His Church I go, if it will 
 have me." 
 
 Our unwillingness to believe in the sincerity of others 
 in the matter of initiative religious experience is very 
 strange. After what had just happened, and with the 
 memory of Joe s singing that morning still fresh, I 
 should have given a hearty " God bless you, dear old 
 Joe." Instead I did not answer at all. Then he 
 spoke suddenly : 
 
 " You don t take any stock in that, do } ou, parson ? 
 Known me too long, haven t you ? Know how I used 
 to swear, don t you ? " 
 
 " Why, no, Joe," I answered, with some hesitation. 
 " I take stock in it all right. You did swear hard, I 
 remember ; but I take 
 
 " No, you don t," he interrupted. " You don t stand 
 for me at all. You don t believe in me a little. But 
 I m honest. Man alive, can t you see I m in dead 
 earnest ? I m going to be a Christian, if there isn t 
 another but you and Tim Wendell on earth." 
 
 " But Tim Wendell is not a Christian," I said. 
 
 " Oh, don t, Dominie, don t," he rejoined. " That
 
 124 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 sounds too like your Greenton hypocrites. He is a 
 Christian. So are you. So am I going to be an all- 
 over-er, too. I m going to be an out-and-out-er, and 
 an in-and-in-er, and a through-and-through-er. I mean 
 to work this clear to the limit." 
 
 What kind of stupid reaction had me in control, 
 I cannot imagine. My answer was inadequate to a 
 degree. 
 
 " Well," I said, "I hope this is all true. But, Joe, 
 isn t it rather sudden ? When did you have a change 
 of heart ? " 
 
 That speech was unpardonable. But his reply, 
 quick and sincere, began to waken me. 
 
 " There," he said, and there was a hurt note in his 
 voice; " I told you that you didn t belie vein me. But 
 you may. Sudden ? Well, I should say so. Why, 
 I ve been shaken up like Saul at Damascus. And 
 when he called out, * Lord, I want to go to work for 
 you; give me a job, did the Lord say to him, Saul, 
 isn t this rather sudden ? As for a change of heart," 
 he finished, " I don t know when I had it. I expect 
 I ve been changing slowly for three years." 
 
 " Three years ? " I exclaimed. " Why, that is just 
 the time I have been pastor in Greenton." 
 
 " Yes. That s just it," he returned. " First trip I 
 made here after you were settled, I met you on the 
 street. Remember ? I started going to church right 
 then. You see, I knew you in college for a straight-er. 
 You were a little pitiful green chap when 3 T ou came, 
 but the fraternity boys thought they saw good points 
 about you and took you in. Well, they found out 
 that you had more points than they reckoned on. Re 
 member the night they tried to make you drink in the 
 lodge room, and you said you d promised your mother
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 125 
 
 not to drink, and you d keep that promise or die ? I 
 said to myself then, Joe, that chap s green, but he s 
 clear grit. So, when I found you pastor here, I said, 
 I m going to hear the preacher that had the sand to 
 stand against a whole lodge full, just because he d 
 promised his mother he wouldn t drink. I ll tell you 
 true, you couldn t preach much, but you were dead- 
 open-and-shut honest and earnest. Then I got ac 
 quainted with Tim "Wendell, and he and I talked you 
 over. I began to believe there was something in 
 Christianity. So the years have gone by. I saw old 
 Henderson down in New Orleans. Sometimes I think 
 he s a Christian, other times I think he s not." It 
 seemed that others, then, were puzzled over him even 
 as I was. 
 
 "Then," he went on, "you kicked up that rumpus 
 in church yesterday, and all at once this morning I 
 cried out, Here I am, Lord : rough Joe Smith ; if you 
 can use me, rough as I am, use me. If you must 
 smooth me down, smooth me. Now, parson, I meant 
 that. I m in this business to be used. But when it 
 all happened, I don t know. It s been happening ever 
 since I knew you." 
 
 That amazing speech was a soul-awakener. I turned 
 to Joe, threw my arms around him, drew him to me, 
 and made with him, in spiritual silence, a covenant 
 which this world will never see broken. This man 
 was the first person to tell me that my life and char 
 acter had been a lamp to guide his feet on the way to 
 God. I could not speak for a little. 
 
 " Joe," I said huskily, " I do believe in you. I ll 
 own to you, I didn t at first, but I do now. My ques 
 tion was wicked. When you became a Christian, sud 
 denly or unsuddenly, makes no difference you are
 
 126 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 one. You shall join Greenton Church as soon as you 
 like." 
 
 " Good ! " came the dear fellow s answer. " That 
 suits me. I won t be with the church often can t, 
 you know. But when I am, folks in Greenton will 
 know it." 
 
 We went back to the carriage. A silence fell be 
 tween us as we drove homeward, but it was the 
 silence of communing souls at peace with God. 
 
 We passed my home just at supper-time. I asked 
 Joe to stop for tea with us, but he declined. 
 
 " No," he said ; " I ve been gone nearly all day, and 
 must do a little business yet." So I left him at Bob s 
 tavern. 
 
 When I told my mother the story of the drive and 
 of Henderson s parting words of discouragement anent 
 the Sunday s work, she answered very gently : 
 
 "Never mind, dear boy. Whatever happens will 
 be right. God has been with you these last two days, 
 and nothing can go wrong with the man with whom 
 God abides." 
 
 " Has anything happened to-day, mother ? " I asked. 
 I was very fearful there might have been some reac 
 tion since the morning. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " Elder Harfis called twice 
 to see you, and, when he came the second time, seemed 
 much disappointed that you had not returned." 
 
 " Did he tell his business ? " I asked anxiously. I 
 distrusted Elder Harfis. 
 
 "Not one syllable, but I think it was something 
 about the church and yesterday." 
 
 That was not reassuring, and ordinarily the thought 
 that at once took form in my mind would have made 
 me uneasy. That the elder had come to tell me that my
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 127 
 
 services were no longer required at the Presbyterian, 
 church seemed probable. But in a soul so spiritually 
 elated as mine over Joe s conversion, there was no 
 room for worry as to what the elder might or might 
 not say when we should meet. 
 
 The evening was warm. As we sat upon our porch, 
 the view of the western hills at whose bases the Hud 
 son River flows was transcendently beautiful. I was 
 repeating some lines of Holland s that I loved, when 
 suddenly the church bell began to ring. I started as 
 if from a dream. " What s that for ? " I cried. But 
 my mother could not answer me. 
 
 Going over to the church at once, I found it fast 
 filling with people. 
 
 " What s all this ? " I asked the sexton. 
 
 "Oh," drawled the old man, "Elder Harfis an Mr. 
 Smith is goin tohev a meetin , but Idon t know what fer. 
 Ther was handbills all over taown this afternoon." 
 
 Elder Harfis met me as I entered the vestibule. He 
 gave me no opportunity to speak. 
 
 " I tried to see you twice to-day," he explained, 
 " but you had gone out of town. Had I found you, 
 we would have had a talk about this meeting, but 
 now it s too late. Joe Smith and I arranged it. He 
 said he wanted to join this church and must tell the 
 people why. I promised to see you about it, but 
 when he went to Salisbury with }^ou, I supposed he d 
 tell you. Then I didn t see him till half an hour ago, 
 and he said he hadn t told you, but it was all the 
 better, for the meeting was going to be ours, and we 
 wouldn t let you have anything to do with it. So, 
 you see, preacher," he ended with a smile, " you can t 
 go into the pulpit to-night. You sit anywhere. We ll 
 take care of the meeting."
 
 128 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Have you ever seen a cloud full to bursting with 
 rain and just about to break in downpour? Such 
 was that meeting. The elder read the Fifty-first 
 Psalm. Then Joe Smith prayed. Never was such a 
 prayer as his heard in Green ton Church before. 
 
 "God, I am not in the habit of praying. 
 I don t know how to do it. I have used your 
 name thousands of times, but I was swearing, 
 and not praying. Now I m going to change 
 off. I ve got to speak to this crowd to-night. 
 I ve got to tell them the truth. They ve 
 been a lot of humbugs and hypocrites and 
 do-nothings, but they have had a jolt and are 
 looking around to see what s the matter. I 
 want help to tell them the truth, the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth, as Justice 
 Wendell says. I want you to take care of 
 this meeting, and keep me from being a fool. 
 That is all I have to say now. Amen." 
 
 Elder Harfis gave out the hymn, " There is a foun 
 tain filled with blood." Joe did not wait for the 
 organ. He began to sing with an earnestness that 
 was not to be mistaken. At the close of the hymn, 
 he spoke. 
 
 "I m no preacher," were his first words, "so I ll 
 take no text. But I know a few words of the Eng 
 lish language, and Fm going to use them the best I 
 know how. I never had any use for the Church until I 
 began to hear the Dominie down there preach in this 
 town. That was three years ago. I suppose I ve 
 heard seven or eight sermons a year. I ve told the 
 preacher I didn t call them very good sermons; but 
 what of that ? He s all right, sermons or no sermons, 
 and he proves Christianity every day by his life.
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 129 
 
 " Yesterday morning, he preached. Yes, he did. 
 He larruped you old hypocrites well. He gave it to 
 you again this morning in good shape, too, and I don t 
 leave myself out either. I got my dose, and I deserved 
 it. I haven t had much use for the Church as I have 
 known it, but I m going to join this one. The Church, 
 as I see it, is a sham and a humbug. Your church has 
 been a humbug, and you know it. I ve been spending 
 Sunday four times a year, for eight years, in this 
 town, and not a man in all Greenton ever asked me 
 into a church, or ever spoke one word to me about 
 my soul, or over tried to do me any good. Some of 
 you men have taken me into Bob s tavern to drink, 
 thinking if you could get me mellow you could make 
 a better bargain. You ve tried to do me all right, but 
 you never once tried to do me good. That s the 
 sort of Christians some of you have been. I don t 
 wonder your faces turn red. Oh, don t look at your 
 neighbor, to see if his face is red. You re the man 
 I mean: and you, and you, and you." Joe s earnest 
 ness was good to see. 
 
 " Now," he continued, " this church is going to be a 
 better church. Your pastor got loose yesterday. He 
 let the books and the schools go, and he sawed wood. 
 Whenever God sees a preacher sawing wood, He 
 comes right down. He even stands by with a file to 
 keep the preacher s saw sharp. My friend there has 
 had two bouts at his wood-pile, one yesterday and one 
 this morning ; and his saw isn t dull yet. I heard 
 that trout-fisher, Henderson, tell him to-day that he d 
 made a mess of it, and that you would drive him out 
 of this church. Don t you do it. You can t afford 
 that. He s just waked up, and he ll keep you waked 
 up too. And if he don t, I will, for I m going to join
 
 130 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 this church, and I shall be back here just as often as I 
 can, and whenever I come back I m going to speak in 
 meeting. 
 
 " I m a Christian all right." This was in answer to 
 the blank astonishment on many of the faces before 
 him. "I m a Saul-of-Tarsus Christian. God shook 
 me up yesterday. Greenton is my Damascus. The 
 Dominie there told me my conversion was sudden. 
 Well, what of it? Is there any law that says God 
 can t do a thing in a hurry, if He wants to ? Is a 
 Christian that gives in to Jesus Christ suddenly, any 
 poorer Christian than your mud-turtle, snail-crawler 
 convert ? No, he isn t ; not one bit poorer. When 
 Saul of Tarsus heard the voice say, Quit your kick 
 ing, Saul, he quit and went to preaching right 
 straight. That s me. I heard the voice of God yes 
 terday. It said, Joe Smith, you ve been knocking 
 round, swearing, drinking, cussing Christians, for a 
 good while ; now stop go to preaching. So here I 
 am. I don t know any Hebrew. I forgot my Greek 
 before I ever learned it, and never since have remem 
 bered what I never knew. But that don t count. 
 
 " Christianity is real. Christ is real, for I saw Him 
 yesterday. Your preacher is real. Tim Wendell is 
 real. You don t believe it, but he is. He can give 
 you pointers about being Christians. You can t cover 
 up a real thing. Some one always finds it. I m go 
 ing to be real, and some one will find me so. I m in 
 this to stay. I m going to wake you sleepy souls up. 
 I m going to tell the truth to you who have been 
 shams and hypocrites so long. 
 
 "Now, I have just about finished. But I want the 
 meetings Elder Harfis and I have begun to go right 
 on. This town needs a revival. You haven t had
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 131 
 
 one for many years. The churches are all alike here. 
 They re worse than a cold-storage plant. The parson 
 set this church afire yesterday, now you set the rest 
 of the churches afire. 
 
 " I m going to be here just one more day, then I ve 
 got to go off on the road. I m going to sell goods 
 to-morrow. Don t any of you men ask me over to 
 Bob s to drink, for I won t go. I give Bob notice 
 now, I m going to drive him out of business if I can. 
 I don t want to hurt his hotel, but I do want to dam 
 the stream that flows over his bar. That hotel was 
 started as a Temperance House in this town many years 
 ago by the preacher s father and some of his father s 
 friends who put up the money. As a business venture 
 it broke down. You hypocrites let it break down. 
 You got men in there who couldn t keep a hotel with 
 out rum, so they said. But Bob can. He knows how 
 to do just that, if he s a mind to. Besides that, Bob s 
 got a good boy : a boy that Bob, and you men who 
 drink there on the sly, are fitting for hell, and I want 
 to see him saved, and to save him I m going to bust 
 Bob s bar sometime. There ll be a meeting here to 
 morrow night," he concluded abruptly, " and if the 
 parson won t preach, I will." 
 
 As his sermon ended, this strange preacher burst 
 out singing, " There is a fountain filled with blood," 
 and again the congregation sang the hymn clear 
 through. Then Joe said, " Now, elder." 
 
 Elder Harfis rose. "Friends," he began, " I have 
 been an elder in this church for fifteen years. I never 
 gave ten dollars a year to the support of the gospel, 
 outside of my pew-rent, while pew-rents lasted. Joe 
 Smith has been very rough on us to-night, but what he 
 said is true. I have done everything I could to get
 
 132 THE MAID OF HONOR, 
 
 out of giving a cent to the church. I got you to do 
 away with pew-rents for just that and nothing else. 
 I have made one hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
 clean money out of my business enterprises in the last 
 fifteen years. Now I am going to begin to pay my 
 debts." What followed then made me start with 
 surprise. 
 
 " I will give twenty-five hundred dollars to the pas 
 tor," went on my elder. " He has been here more 
 than three years. He has had one thousand dollars a 
 year salary. He has been worth twice that. Just 
 because he was one of our boys, and his mother s 
 house was here, we thought we would save money on 
 him. I led in that too, and it was mean. Now I 
 will pay up. More than that, this church needs 
 repairs, painting, and all sorts of things. I will give 
 five thousand dollars for that ; and whatever the 
 meetings we are going to hold may cost, I will pay 
 too." 
 
 As the elder took his seat, some one struck up, 
 " When I survey the wondrous cross." When the 
 hymn was ended, Joe said : 
 
 " There ll be no benediction here to-night. This is 
 not the parson s affair at all. This is an independent 
 congregational meeting. My brother Tim Wendell, 
 who is over there in the back corner, will close this 
 meeting with a prayer." 
 
 That was the finest moment of the whole fine 
 evening. Mr. Wendell I cannot say Tim when I 
 think of it rose and prayed : 
 
 " Father Divine, I have never been called 
 a Christian. I have professed nothing, but I 
 have reverenced Thee. As far as I have 
 known what truth is, I have been true. So, I
 
 JOE SURPRISES ME 133 
 
 pray, make this people true. Make them 
 know that pure religion and undefiled before 
 God, even the Father, is this, to visit the 
 fatherless and widows in their affliction, and 
 to keep himself, each man, and to keep her 
 self, each woman, unspotted from the world, 
 unspotted from the world, unspotted from 
 the world. This is the kind of religion I 
 want to see in Greenton. Let us have this, 
 O Lord God Almighty. Amen." 
 
 That was the end. A very quiet, solemn congrega 
 tion went out of that church edifice. 
 
 I was hardly inside my study door, when there was 
 a knock and Elder Harfis entered. I started to rise. 
 
 "Don t rise, pastor," he said. "Here s my check 
 for twenty-five hundred dollars. You will forgive my 
 past, I know. I do not know whether God will for 
 give me or not." And the proud-spirited, cold old 
 man threw himself down on his knees beside me, 
 brokenly sobbing out his prayer. All I could say 
 was, " You say you know I will forgive you, and you 
 do not know whether God will or not ? Am I, then, 
 better than God ? " The words satisfied him. After 
 a little he arose, and with a grasp of my hand, " Good 
 night, my pastor, my friend," he said. " Good night. 
 God is in Greenton : is here to forgive and bless." 
 
 He passed out into the night. As I resumed my 
 chair, I knew in my soul that what the elder had said 
 was true. I knew that I myself was face to face with 
 God. And I made account neither of time nor of 
 place, until I became conscious that the sunlight was 
 shining in at my window.
 
 XII 
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 
 
 THE trip from Greenton to New York by day, 
 thirty years ago, Avas rather tedious. I was 
 weary when the Hudson River train stopped 
 finally in the great city. A leisurely stroll across to 
 Fifth Avenue, and down that thoroughfare, looking 
 in at the shop windows now and then, seemed a sen 
 sible way in which to rest. It was a Saturday in 
 October, and I was bound for Plain ton, New Jersey, 
 to be guest of Major Ardman over Sunday and 
 Monday. The meetings which Joe Smith and Elder 
 Harfis had begun had progressed with no interruption 
 for three whole months, producing very remarkable 
 results. Jimmie MacNaughton had signed the pledge 
 the very first week, under Joe s lead, and the tavern- 
 keeper s boy had flatly refused to mix drinks any 
 longer at his father s bar. More than a thousand 
 people had been converted, most of them adults. Joe 
 Smith had been in town four times, and each time I 
 had let him occupy my pulpit. His preaching would 
 have astonished my Andover professors, but it was 
 eloquent and mighty for convicting men of sin. My 
 church membership had gone up from about three 
 hundred to over nine hundred. Those three months 
 had been very wonderful. Letters had passed occasion 
 ally between Major Ardman and me, and David 
 Henderson and me. As they had been present at 
 the beginning of the work, they kept in touch with 
 
 134
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 135 
 
 its progress. Henderson bad repeatedly invited me 
 to visit him, and only recently the Major had urged 
 me to preach for the church in Plainton. To make 
 his plea more effective, he had proposed that I ad 
 dress the Presbyterian Union of his city on Monday 
 night, narrating the events of the great revival. I 
 had finally accepted his invitation, and Henderson s 
 also, intending to pay both visits during my absence 
 from home. So it came about that this October 
 Saturday found me in the afternoon sauntering down 
 Fifth Avenue, in an idle, care-free mood. 
 
 I had gone almost to Schaus picture gallery, antici 
 pating enjoyment in scanning the paintings and en 
 gravings there, when I saw a young man and woman 
 step out of the passing throng to stop before the 
 very window toward which my course was directed. 
 There was but one girl in the world with that face 
 and figure. I had last seen her wrapped in my woods 
 blanket in a canoe on Indian Lake, almost six months 
 before. The man was a good-looking, well-dressed 
 young swell, I thought. He was well enough, but I 
 was envious to think that he could walk with that 
 girl in a way which fate had never yet granted me. I 
 was wondering who he was, and wishing, in most unpar- 
 son-like way, that I could kick him into the middle of 
 the street, when the girl s eyes and mine met. Her face 
 flushed, while I paused a second, intent to frame my 
 greeting in just the right way, when I heard her say 
 to the man, with deliberation, and so loudly that I 
 knew she meant me to hear, " There ought to be a law 
 to keep men from staring at women in the street." 
 
 Just before she spoke I had fancied she half started 
 toward me; then her face had turned white and 
 hard, as she spoke her fierce sentence. I did not de-
 
 136 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 serve it. I had not stared. I had been delighted to 
 see once more the girl I loved, and all the memory of 
 that Adirondack drive had flashed through my mind. 
 What a pleasure I was about to have. Then came 
 the dispelling of the dream. It was plain the girl had 
 taken strong dislike to me, and my wrath and morti 
 fication were intense. I plunged into the middle of 
 the street to hail a stage passing down-town, and was 
 at once at my wits end in dodging the stream of 
 carriages of every kind. Two or three times I was 
 nearly run down, and I knew I was making a sorry 
 spectacle of myself. The shouting drivers discon 
 certed me, my self-possession vanished ; but I finally 
 reached the stage and clambered to the top. The 
 whole thing was over in two or three minutes, but it 
 seemed like an age. When I was seated safely I 
 looked back toward Schaus shop front. The couple 
 had moved down the walk, keeping abreast of the 
 stage. The girl was watching the outcome intently. 
 Her face was like marble, but the man seemed bored. 
 As my eyes, blazing with anger, encountered hers with 
 a strong impact, I saw a look of relief go across her 
 face while the color came surging back. Then her eyes 
 turned away and she dropped her head. Plainly she 
 had been frightened, and I was gratified. I rode 
 away down to Liberty Street. My anger grew hotter 
 with every turn of the wheels. But there was grim 
 happiness in the anger. I had frightened the goddess 
 if I had done no more. 
 
 At Plainton I obeyed instructions given me by 
 Major Ardman, and drove to his residence. He met 
 me at the door with a hearty hospitality that left no 
 doubt of his genuine pleasure in seeing me. After his 
 salutation his first words were, " I wouldn t have
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 137 
 
 missed that Greenton Sunday for any consideration. 
 It was great. The more I think of it, the more I 
 wonder at it. Has Joe Smith held fast his profession ?" 
 
 " Yes," I replied. The Major had taken away with 
 one sentence all the resentment I had been feeling. 
 " Yes, Joe will always hold out. In many respects he 
 is the greatest Christian I have ever seen. He is ab 
 solutely fearless in his devotion to Christ, and his 
 adaptability and ready wit make him vastly popular." 
 
 " We will talk about him later," said the Major. 
 " I will take you to your room now. But I ll tell you 
 first, David is here. He says you are going to Duque- 
 boro for a visit." 
 
 "Yes, I am. I have put your invitation and his 
 together, and I ll make one trip cover both." 
 
 " I m glad," he rejoined. " You ll have the best 
 time you ever had in your life. David s a great host. 
 He s taken a strong liking for you. That s strange, 
 too, for he s an undemonstrative man. But he says 
 you gave him a definition of religion different from 
 anything he s read in any book." 
 
 " I remember," I answered. " But I didn t think 
 it struck him, for he turned it off with a laugh." 
 
 " Oh, you must not judge a Scotchman by his 
 laugh. Or you mustn t judge this Scotchman so," the 
 Major replied. " You know, they say the Mississippi 
 is so crooked that a boat going down passes itself com 
 ing back, and returns its own salute. Well, David is 
 as crooked in his ways as that. Not bad, mind you. 
 Not wickedly crooked. But just tortuous winding 
 don t you know ? But I must not keep you. Come 
 on." 
 
 The Major stood in the parlor with Mrs. Ardman 
 and a young man whose back was turned, as he was
 
 138 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 busy with some books on a table. The Major pre 
 sented me to his good wife and then called, " Here, 
 Felix, shake hands with our guest," and to my amaze 
 ment I found myself taking the hand of the young 
 man who had been with the maid of honor before 
 Schaus shop window. 
 
 My heart gave one big thump, and then I had ray- 
 self absolutely in hand. 
 
 " I think I saw you on Fifth Avenue this afternoon," 
 I said. 
 
 " Quite possible," he answered. " I was on Fifth 
 Avenue." 
 
 " Yes, you were with a lady whom I have met on two 
 occasions," and I spoke the name of the maid of honor. 
 
 "Yes. I was with her," he answered. "Where 
 was it ? Why didn t you speak to her ? " 
 
 " Twas before Schaus shop window. I was about 
 to speak when a remark she made to you checked 
 me." I spoke as calmly as if I had not a great strug 
 gle over that. 
 
 "Why, were you the man that " He never 
 
 finished that question. The Major stepped in, saying, 
 " Dinner, parson. Give Mrs. Ardman your arm ; Felix 
 and I will follow." 
 
 I was grateful enough to the Major. He had piloted 
 me, Avithout knowing, past Scylla and Charybdis; and 
 I took great pains that the young man should have no 
 opportunity to return to the subject. In that I was 
 also favored by circumstances. We had not been at 
 dinner long before Henderson was announced, and a 
 place was made for him at the table. He was evi 
 dently accustomed to that sort of thing, and made 
 himself perfectly at home. I asked him how he hap 
 pened to be in Plainton.
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 139 
 
 " Oh," he answered, " my presence is needf u to ye. 
 Ye mind, ye made the great hit o your life because I 
 was before ye in Greenton that day, and I ve come to 
 gie ye inspiration and courage for the morrow." 
 
 I knew perfectly well it was curiosity to see and 
 hear me that had brought him, but I answered, 
 " Well, if it was your presence in Greenton that made 
 that Sunday and its consequences, you may congratu 
 late yourself on having done more good than falls to 
 the lot of most men to do." Then he started in, in 
 true Henderson style : 
 
 " Ye haven t resigned from yon Greenton church 
 yet, I doot ? " 
 
 " No, I haven t," I laughed back at him. 
 
 "But ye will, man, ye will," he rejoined. " Twill 
 be growin hot there, I doot. Ye played wi congre 
 gational combustibles, an there ll be fire some day." 
 
 " There has been fire all summer," was my answer, 
 " Pentecostal fire." 
 
 " That s no the fire I m talkin aboot," Henderson 
 answered. " I m talkin aboot the fire o the Lord 
 that consumes the chaff an stubble." 
 
 " Well, which do you call me, chaff or stubble ? " 
 
 " Ye re light enow in your language the day for 
 chaff," he retorted, " an ye re set enow in your way 
 for stubble. An on that f no benediction day ye was 
 both. Oh, ye ll get burned some day, I doot. For 
 the apostle says the Lord shall try every man s work 
 by fire, whether it be wood, hay, or stubble, gold, 
 silver, or precious stones 
 
 " Well," I interrupted, " I haven t been burned yet, 
 and as for fire breaking out in my congregational com 
 bustibles, as you call them ! See here, man, we had 
 the old-time fire, and we had also a rain of heavenly
 
 140 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 grace, which did not extinguish but fed the fire ; so 
 your other threatened conflagration was impossible. 
 We had a great revival," I continued with enthusiasm ; 
 " Joe Smith started it Joe and Elder Harfis." 
 
 " Man, man," Henderson interrupted, " revivals can 
 no start wi blasphemers. Joe Smith is a blasphemer." 
 Henderson spoke with some heat. He did not fancy 
 Joe. 
 
 "No," I answered, "not so. That isn t fair. He 
 was a blasphemer, but he is now a wonderful disciple 
 of Jesus Christ. He preached four sermons during 
 the three months of meetings whose like I shall never 
 be able to preach." 
 
 Mrs. Ardman came to my rescue. " Mr. Hender 
 son," she said, " I cannot have you spoil our guest s 
 dinner with your arguing. You know you don t 
 mean what you say. After dinner, we will have the 
 whole story in the library." 
 
 Henderson transferred his attention to her. 
 
 " Not mean what I say ? Do I look like a man that 
 wouldna mean what I say ? " 
 
 " Yes, you do," she replied. " I know you, David 
 Henderson, and you shall not bother my guest an 
 other minute." 
 
 "There s no Bible against ye, madam," was the re 
 sponse, humorously rueful. " The apostle only said, 
 Let the women keep silence in the churches. He s 
 been sorry he didna say more, I doot." 
 
 After that I was allowed to eat my dinner in peace. 
 But Henderson had not abandoned his purpose. They 
 planted me in a great easy-chair in the library when 
 dinner was finished, but it was not to be a haven of 
 rest. Cigars lighted, the irrepressible Scotchman be 
 gan again :
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 141 
 
 " Now, man, aboot the blasphemer and the revival. 
 I say they re no compatible. Ye can explain yerself, 
 Idoot." 
 
 " To explain myself," I answered, " will make me 
 give the whole story. And I am to tell it on Monday 
 night publicly. You will all be present. To tell it 
 now will spoil it for you three." 
 
 " Are ye afraid to gie it twice, for fear ye canna do 
 it twice the same ? " he retorted. 
 
 Major Ardman said in a very friendly way, " Be 
 still, David. You know better." Then, turning to 
 me, he continued, " Hawthorne made a reputation out 
 of Twice Told Tales. You could not follow a nobler 
 example. Please tell the story. We shall enjoy both 
 nights equally." 
 
 And so I told the story. I had formed a rather 
 prejudicial opinion of Felix Ardman, but I must say 
 no one ever listened to a story better than he. Once 
 or twice he interrupted me courteously with interested 
 questions. I saw he had both heart and brain. When 
 the story was done, Henderson made a single remark. 
 " God is a great God when He can save sic a blas 
 phemer. But I remember He saved Saul o Tarsus, 
 and that was harder, for he breathed out threatenings 
 and slaughter. A man must be gey bad to breathe 
 out slaughter." With that he rose and said good-night. 
 
 His last words to me I have never forgotten : 
 
 " My lad, ye re queer, but queer men count. I m 
 queer masel . That s what makes me more successful 
 than ither men. After our talk on the train, yon 
 time, I had ma doots if ye had a ca . But I gie it up, 
 noo. Ye have a ca , I doot. But ye tempted Provi 
 dence in that revival." 
 
 How little we know. How blessed human igno-
 
 142 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 ranee of God s ways is. Forty-eight hours from the 
 moment David Henderson was speaking his bantering 
 words at Major Ardman s door, he was sitting with 
 me in a northbound train on the Hudson River road, 
 whiling away the hours as I retraced my way home 
 ward. 
 
 Major Ardman took me on Monday morning to see 
 Edison s new shops at Menlo Park. We went directly 
 in from there to the Major s New York office. As 
 we walked through the crowded ferryboat, a gentle 
 man whom I had met on Sunday at Major Ardman s 
 approached and said : 
 
 " So you have at last received your telegram. You 
 have my sympathy. It is very sad." 
 
 " Telegram ? " I exclaimed. " What telegram ? 
 What is sad ? " 
 
 The gentleman saw he had blundered, and he did 
 not have quick tact to extricate himself. His con 
 fusion alarmed me, and I repeated my words. " What 
 telegram ? " 
 
 Then he answered, " I am sorry to have to be the 
 bearer of the news I have. But you must know it. 
 A message came this morning from your home about 
 your mother." 
 
 " What of my mother ? " I cried. " Has anything 
 happened to my mother ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; and his words were very 
 gentle, and his manner very kind. " Your mother 
 has gone home." 
 
 Then the floor of the boat whirled under my feet, 
 and I fell into the arms of Major Ardman. 
 
 As we entered Major Ardman s New York office 
 Mr. Henderson met us at the door.
 
 WHICH RECORDS TWO JOURNEYS 143 
 
 "Lad," he said gently, "I know a aboot it. I 
 heard o it over at the Major s this mornin , after ye 
 had gone. I went to your room, an picked up, an 
 packed up, a your belongin s. They re here, in your 
 valise. There s a train goes up the Hudson River 
 road at five o clock, an one leaves Troy at nine- 
 thirty. I ve telegraphed to Camblet for the best rig 
 they hae, to be ready at the station. Ye ll be hame 
 by twelve-thirty to-night, an ye won t hae to look 
 after anythin , for I m goin wi ye." 
 
 What Henderson did during the next four days 
 endeared him to me past all forfeiture. He accom 
 panied me back to my empty home. He attended to 
 every detail of the last sad ceremonial. He found 
 where Joe Smith was, telegraphed for him, and paid 
 his expenses to Greenton, in order that he might 
 speak at the funeral. He called together the session 
 of the church and told the members they must give 
 me a six months vacation abroad. Not until all this 
 was done, did he say good-bye. 
 
 His farewell words were unlike any others he ever 
 said to me. 
 
 " Guid-bye," he said. " Brace up, man. Your lot 
 is the common lot of a , only it came in a very hard 
 way. But, man, God spared ye the mither a long 
 time." His voice was growing husky. " Mine went 
 when I was but a bairn. Had she lived so long as 
 yours I might perhaps hae been a better man. Guid- 
 bye. Go over the sea. When ye come hame, I ll hae 
 somethin for ye, I hope, but ye can t tell always. 
 Guid-bye. Ye ll be strong, I dinna doot."
 
 XIII 
 ON SHIPBOARD 
 
 THE night before Henderson left for home, a 
 committee of the church and people of Green- 
 ton brought me a purse of two thousand 
 dollars in gold to defray the expenses of the foreign 
 tour. The gift was a great surprise. It was pre 
 sented in a simple, beautiful way, but I demurred, say 
 ing I had not yet used the gift made by Elder Harfis. 
 The committee would not listen to my demurral, and 
 Henderson came to its help with a proposition that I 
 accepted almost before I knew what I had done. 
 
 " Ye haena used the twenty-five hundred the elder 
 gave ye ? "When wad the elder be givin ye that ? " 
 
 In a moment the story was told. He was evidently 
 greatly pleased, but he said, " Ye re juist like a the 
 meenisters. Juist like a o them." 
 
 " How ? " I asked. 
 
 "Man, ye dinna ken what to do wi guid money. 
 Think o yersel ; twenty-five hundred in yer hauns 
 almost four months, losin interest, an ye no carin ." 
 
 u Well, what better could I have done ? It is in 
 the bank safely. I might have invested it and lost it." 
 
 " I ll invest it for ye \vhaur ye won t lose it. Gie 
 it to me, man. I ll pay ye sax per cent, for it, and I ll 
 not lose it. I ll account for it when ye least expect, 
 an I ll tell ye what to do wi it then." 
 
 I drew him a check then and there, and in return 
 he wrote a demand note, which I had for many years. 
 
 144
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 145 
 
 When the twenty-five hundred was in Henderson s 
 hand there was nothing to do but to take the money 
 which the committee had brought. 
 
 Henderson and I were late reaching The Western- 
 land. We had lunched at the St. Denis, and he 
 would have a cab to go over to Jersey City. I was 
 very nearly left. The last visitors were coming off, 
 and Henderson could not go on board with me. As I 
 went up the gang-plank, Bruce Fraser came down. 
 He paused for a moment, said, " You ? Are you a 
 passenger ? " 
 
 " Yes, why not ? " I said. 
 
 " All aboard." rang sharp and clear. Each of us 
 started. 
 
 Why not ? " Bruce repeated. " There s no why 
 not that I know of. This is a free country." His 
 face was flushed. His breath was beery. As he 
 went down the plank, I heard him say, " Damn that 
 minister." Then I knew by intuition that the maid of 
 honor was to be a fellow-passenger, and the thought 
 dashed the high anticipation with which I had come 
 to the steamer. When the first call for dinner came, 
 the maid of honor and her brother went down the 
 companionway stairs just in advance of me ; but they 
 did not go to the captain s table, at which Henderson 
 had secured me a seat. 
 
 Two whole days passed before we met. She knew 
 who her fellow-passengers were, for every one had 
 scanned with curious scrutiny the sailing-list. I had, 
 when first on board. Just as I supposed, there were 
 the names, and Newark, New Jersey, but there was 
 no wife of the brother along, and that made me 
 wonder a little. She was avoiding me clearly enough, 
 and I had not the courage to face such a look as she
 
 146 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 had given me before Schaus window. Her brother 
 and I had recalled that Adirondack drive, and he had 
 thanked me once more profusely for my courtesy. I 
 told him bluntly enough it was not mine, but Wen 
 dell s. The third afternoon, just before dinner, while 
 the sea was rolling heavily, and I was feeling a trifle 
 uncomfortable, as I lay in my steamer chair, she 
 passed, walking briskly, with a lady and two young 
 men. In her promenading heretofore, she had been 
 careful to pass far toward the bow, but had evidently 
 forgotten my locality in the exhilaration of the walk. 
 I saw her coming before she saw me, so that foresight 
 had given opportunity for fore-guarding. As she 
 passed, my face was buried in a book, but I was 
 watching her for all that. She did not see me until 
 just as the party was opposite ; then her face flushed, 
 her eyes flashed, her step quickened. I knew the look. 
 I had seen it first at St. David s. " Why, what s the 
 matter with you ? " said a girl s voice. " When you 
 saw that man you jumped as if you were shot." 
 
 " What man ? " she replied. " Where ? I think I 
 slipped on some spray on the deck. I am not so afraid 
 of men that I jump when I see them." 
 
 " All the same, you jumped," laughed the other 
 girl. " Come now : who was he ? " 
 
 " How should I know, if I did not see him ? " said 
 the maid of honor. But I noticed the party did not 
 tramp past me again. 
 
 On the fifth day out, when half way over, I sat in 
 my steamer chair watching a school of porpoises play. 
 Probably they knew their game. I did not. But 
 they were so alert, their colors flashed so beautifully 
 in the sunlight, that I cried out as a pleased boy 
 might have done :
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 147 
 
 " Oh, you beauties I wish I could speak your lan 
 guage. I would know what you are so merry over." 
 
 The man in the steamer chair next mine, whom I 
 had not particularly noticed, heard me, and turning 
 toward me, said : 
 
 " You re a poet, I see." 
 
 " No, sir," I answered. " No poet ; only a country 
 preacher." 
 
 " Poet, for all that," he answered in a friendly 
 voice. " Who but a poet would think about speaking 
 the language of porpoises, and finding the causes of 
 their merriment ? " 
 
 " Why, anybody," I said. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense," was his quick reply ; " there s not 
 another person on this boat who has ever thought of 
 such a thing." Then, as a man was passing, a finely 
 dressed man, with every evidence of well-to-do com 
 fort about him, my deck-mate accosted him suddenly, 
 " Pardon me, dear sir, but did it ever occur to you 
 that those porpoises there have a language which they 
 speak to each other, and that they are playing a very 
 merry game ? " 
 
 " What, those fish there ? " was the brusque reply. 
 " No ; fish can t talk. Fish don t know anything 
 about being merry. Are you crazy ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said the questioner. " This gentleman 
 and I were talking about poetry, that was all." 
 
 "Do you see?" said my new acquaintance, "there 
 are one hundred and eighty passengers on this boat, 
 and I can get an answer like that from three out of 
 every four of them. There s not one who in a whole 
 life, on personal initiative, will say such a thing as I 
 overheard you say." 
 
 The Westernland had sailed on Saturday. On the
 
 148 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 second Sunday the captain asked me to speak after he 
 had read the Anglican service. When the brief dis 
 course was ended, the captain said, " One of our ladies 
 has consented to sing my favorite hymn for us. 
 That will end this Sabbath service." 
 
 One of the young men of the promenading party 
 went to the piano ; and the maid of honor rose and 
 sang the hymn which has never since ceased to echo 
 in my soul : " Art thou weary, art thou languid ? " 
 Seldom has a song so moved me. Her voice was ex 
 quisite, rich, deep, strong, clear, melodious. I had 
 never known she could sing. I said to myself, how 
 can a girl, who can sing like that, look as she looked 
 at me that day on Fifth Avenue ? As the company 
 passed out of the cabin, I went to where she stood 
 among some congratulating friends, and spoke to her. 
 " Pardon me," I said, " but the finish you gave to the 
 service of the morning was so beautiful, I cannot re 
 frain, as one who had a small part in it, from express 
 ing my gratitude." She looked at me as a marble 
 statue would look if it had a soul, and said, " Thank 
 you ; the least I can say is, the service inspired the 
 song." Before I could say more, had I wished, she 
 had turned away and gone to the deck with the ac 
 companist of her song. 
 
 My chance acquaintance of the porpoises was await 
 ing me on deck, and with him the brother of the maid 
 of honor. We three paced the deck up and down for 
 a time, I in silence, they chatting. Suddenly my 
 porpoise man said to me, " If you re like most preach 
 ers, you ll be interested to hear about a revival that I 
 read about just before leaving Boston. We Boston 
 people don t believe in them much, but this was un 
 usual,"
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 149 
 
 " What was it ? " I asked. 
 
 Then to my great surprise he told the Greenton 
 story. If he had read the sailing-list, and had seen 
 the name Greenton, why he did not connect me and 
 the place and the event, I do not know. The maid of 
 honor s brother spoke up and said, " You don t believe 
 all that yarn you ve reeled off, do you ? " 
 
 " Believe it ? Yes, I do. I know it. One of my 
 salesmen was there when it began, and several times 
 afterward." 
 
 And then I was surprised. " One of your sales 
 men ? " I repeated. " May I ask his name ? " 
 
 " Smith ; Joe Smith. Easy to remember in this 
 Mormon-enduring country." 
 
 " Is this Joe Smith any more reliable than his great 
 Mormon namesake ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Absolutely reliable is Joe. Why, he is 
 one of the converts, and he shows his conversion in 
 every act of his life. He used to be wretchedly pro 
 fane, and knew a whole lot more about whiskey 
 than I wished he did. But he came back to Boston 
 early in July sober and quiet, and not an oath passed 
 his lips all the while that he was in off the road. And 
 the best of it is he keeps it right up. He was always 
 a good salesman, but he is the best of our whole force 
 now." 
 
 "Well, that rather proves that Boston has some 
 thing to learn about revivals, does it not ? " I said, in 
 as matter-of-fact manner as I could. 
 
 " Yes, Boston can learn a great deal about revivals. 
 Joe Smith can tell the old city more about real salva 
 tion than it has known since Hosea Ballou began to 
 preach his doctrine of sham salvation. Joe Smith has 
 astonished me. I knew he was smart ! but I had no
 
 150 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 idea at all of how smart he really is." He grew very 
 earnest as he went on : " Smart. Yes, sir. He 
 preaches. Think of that : a road salesman preaching. 
 I left Boston last Thursday. That morning Joe came 
 in with a telegram from the revival church, saying the 
 minister was to be abroad for six months, and the 
 people wanted him to preach for them for the whole 
 time of the preacher s absence. He came to know if 
 we would let him off. He fairly took my breath. Of 
 course I told him he could go, but I haven t any idea 
 he can fill the bill." 
 
 "Well, you ve fairly taken my breath," I cried. 
 " But you re mistaken when you say Joe can t fill the 
 bill. He can. He s more of a preacher than I am a 
 poet. He was in my college class for a year, and, be 
 sides, that church of which you have been telling is 
 my church." 
 
 My companion looked at me a moment, and said, re 
 peating my name and Greenton two or three times, 
 " What a dolt I am. I couldn t even put two and two 
 together. Of course, I ought to have known you were 
 the man. I read the sailing-list, but I didn t take 
 you in at all. But you have taken me in. Here you 
 have trotted us two men up and down this deck, hear 
 ing all about your own self and never saying a word. 
 Well, I knock under. Pretending surprise when you 
 knew it all ! " 
 
 " But," said the maid s brother, " you hardly gave 
 him a chance. You talked pretty fast, I think." 
 
 " Yes, you did," I said. " You certainly did talk 
 fast. And you told me things I did not know. I 
 made no pretense when I appeared surprised. I was 
 surprised when you told about my church sending for 
 Joe. No one at home gave me a hint of what they
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 151 
 
 meant to do. I m afraid it means my day is done, for 
 Joe can preach as I never could. But you have lost 
 him," I added. " He will never go back to selling 
 goods on the road. A man who can preach, and once 
 gets a taste of it, will never stop. Preaching is the 
 most exhilarating, fascinating work in the world ? 
 and when once a man knows the joy of preaching 
 the unsearchable riches of Christ, nothing will stop 
 him." 
 
 "I don t know about that," was the answer. "I 
 think you re wrong. Joe likes the road ; likes money ; 
 likes our firm ; and besides, he s a natural-born Bohe 
 mian." 
 
 " I m not wrong," I replied with some earnestness. 
 " Joe ll never go back to you, Mr. Harris." 
 
 "Now, how did you know my name is Harris ?" 
 he asked in surprise. " Are you a detective too ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. Only a poet and a mathematician. Joe 
 has told me his firm s name Murdoch, Stiles, and 
 Harris and that Mr. Harris was the one of the firm 
 from whom he received his orders. I only had to im 
 agine a bit, and add two and two together. By the 
 way," I added in an afterthought, "my mother s 
 name was Harris." 
 
 " Well, what next ? What ll you tell me now ? 
 Where was she from ? " 
 
 "From Houlton, Massachusetts." 
 
 " See here, friend," with growing animation, " we re 
 probably kindred. My father was from that same 
 town. Was old Hinckley Harris a forebear of yours ? " 
 
 " Yes : he was my great grandfather, and a most 
 singular character he was." 
 
 Mr. Harris stopped stock still. " What a little 
 world this is," he exclaimed. " Here we happen to be
 
 152 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 sitting side by side on deck : you go to spouting poetry 
 at the porpoises ; I chip in with a word ; the play goes 
 on, and a regular Box and Cox ending develops. I m 
 not your long lost brother, but we re second cousins. 
 Isn t that so ? " 
 
 Then the brother stepped between us and said: 
 "Yes, gentlemen, that s so; and if you ll permit me, 
 I ll introduce you two second cousins to each other. 
 There s nothing like an ocean steamer for making dis 
 coveries and falling in love." 
 
 Just then the maid of honor passed, with the young 
 man who had played her accompaniment. And Mr. 
 Harris said, " Yes, especially the falling in love. That 
 young couple seem to be trying it. And I don t 
 blame the man. She s the handsomest girl I ever 
 saw." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; she is my sister," was the response, 
 and then the bell rang for dinner. But there was 
 great unrest in my heart during that dinner hour. I 
 loved the girl that day as I never had before, and she 
 would not give me a look or word. There had not 
 been even friendly recognition. What did she mean ? 
 There was young Felix Ardman. She had been 
 sweetly gracious to him that afternoon, I could see. 
 Felix was well enough. Did she love him ? There 
 was Bruce Fraser. Of course he had been with her 
 on the steamer the day we sailed, to say good-bye. He 
 wasn t well enough. He was taller and finer-looking 
 than Felix, but he was a young man whom no girl 
 should marry until he gave up drinking habits. Then 
 there was this man on board. I wanted to throw him 
 into the ocean. 
 
 We were on our ninth day out. " To-morrow about 
 noon," the captain said at dinner, "we ll be at our
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 153 
 
 Antwerp dock." I was glad. I wanted to get away 
 from the girl. Once off the ocean our ways would 
 diverge. 
 
 The afternoon dragged monotonously away. The 
 ship was skirting the southern coast of England, just 
 off the chalk cliffs. The day had been lowery and 
 dark and the sun had hardly looked at us so much as to 
 see if we were worth lighting a course for. But away to 
 tho west was a long strip of space, beautifully clear, 
 between the edge of the low-hanging clouds and the 
 horizon. I was alone on the coast side of the ship, 
 leaning over the rail, beating the old question of the 
 maid of honor and the man she tolerated, and the man 
 she would not tolerate, back and forth in my brain. 
 My eyes were now on the water, now on the dun gray 
 cliffs, and now on the narrow strip of clear sky. All 
 the while the sun was racing down the west in behind 
 the clouds, hastening to his nightly resting place below 
 the outermost rim of the world. Then at last he sailed 
 into that strip of clear sky and lighted up the whole 
 world with a wonderful radiance. He flashed back 
 the great salute of his glory, ere by departure he 
 should make one more day die, and touching those 
 dun gray cliffs, turned them to one gleaming mass of 
 silver. A voice behind me said, " And it shall come to 
 pass that at evening time there shall be light." It was 
 the captain. "That is the dear old land," he said. 
 " See how she slopes all emerald green down from the 
 glistening cottages. That is Merrie England. Do 
 you wonder that the Saxon, and the Dane, and the 
 Norman coveted that lovely land ? And that is the 
 Queen s, God bless her." He doffed his hat and passed 
 on. Then I said gently to myself, " And it shall come 
 to pass that at evening time there shall be light. That
 
 154 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 shall be my prophecy for the girl I love. Only I hope 
 the evening time is not too far away." 
 
 It was not without regret that the thought came 
 that night, "You and Mr. Harris will part to-morrow." 
 He had been a delightful companion. Between the 
 two sets of thoughts caused thus by the girl and the 
 man, my mood was sombre. It was nine o clock. 
 The Westernland had passed Dover, and her signals 
 had been flashed out to the waiting world. I went 
 forward alone that I might be near enough to the night 
 watchman to hear his mellow cry of " All s well," as it 
 had been heard so often. I noticed no one near ; my 
 eyes were on the stars ; I paused for a moment to think 
 of what was behind, and what might be before, and 
 then, turning toward the rail, I almost fell over a 
 steamer chair and its occupant, whom I saw in the 
 dimness to be a lady. " Pardon me, madam," were 
 the first words that came. " I was looking at the stars 
 hanging low over old England." 
 
 " So I perceived," was the answer, and the voice 
 had no sympathy of tone. But only one woman in 
 the world had that voice. This was the maid of honor. 
 There was an empty chair by her, and a rug in it. I 
 turned to go, when an impulse bade me stop. " This 
 is our last night on the boat," I said. " Will you per 
 mit the pleasure of one final word ? " 
 
 " Are words so full of pleasure that you like to speak 
 them ? I find them borous." 
 
 " Occasionally I find them cruel," I answered. Then 
 after a rather awkward pause, " I suppose my words 
 are borous. They are to me sometimes. I have to 
 speak so many." 
 
 " I did not say any such thing," she answered. 
 " That was your interpretation."
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 155 
 
 "No, you did not say so," I rejoined. "But I felt 
 the tone. And once your words were cruel. Why 
 were they so ? Why are you so distant here ? Is it 
 possible that the best man of St. David s is the worst 
 man of The Westernland ? " 
 
 " I was not so very distant just now, when you al 
 most fell over me," she said. 
 
 " No, that is true. I hope you will pardon me. 
 But is it possible you have forgotten the Adirondack 
 drive ; is it possible you have forgotten St. David s ? " 
 
 " If I am distant, as you say, perhaps it is because 
 I have not forgotten St. David s. And why should I 
 remember the Adirondack drive ? That was only an 
 other of the instances in which you have thrown your 
 self in my way." 
 
 I was beginning to be angry, but my great love for 
 her kept my unruly spirit checked a little. I was 
 about to answer, denying her charge, when she said, 
 " Why have you followed me here to-night ? Why 
 do you persist in efforts at acquaintanceship which 
 chance meetings have not warranted ? Why are you 
 on this boat ? " 
 
 That was too much and I blazed out : " Pardon me, 
 I did not follow you here to-night. I sauntered along 
 the deck to hear the watchman s cry. What efforts 
 have I made ? The Adirondack meeting was not of 
 my making. The Fifth Avenue meeting was not of 
 my designing. On my way to be Major Ardman s 
 guest at Plainton, I was whiling away an hour on 
 Fifth Avenue. And when I saw you, as I did, it was 
 not the look of an offensive street starer that I gave, 
 but one of delight at meeting unexpectedly a lady who 
 had had a part with me in what I shall always 
 regard as one of the pleasantest experiences of my
 
 156 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 life. It may be that I am worst man now, and not 
 best man as I was. But you will always be, at 
 least in memory, Phyllis Lorraine s radiant maid of 
 honor." 
 
 She stopped me, and began to speak ; but I said. 
 " Pardon rne, I must finish now ; then you will not 
 need to speak. Why am I on this boat ? It was as 
 unpremeditated a month ago as was that Adirondack 
 meeting. I went to Plainton to preach and lecture, 
 scarcely a month ago. I preached, but the lecture 
 was not delivered. A telegram on Monday told me 
 my mother had died that morning. I was alone in 
 the world. I had been through a strenuous summer, 
 and the new shock broke me down. My congregation 
 has sent me away for a six months rest. Had I 
 known you were a passenger on this boat, I would 
 have delayed my sailing. The memory of the Satur 
 day afternoon before Schaus window, and the tragic 
 event of Monday are coupled in my mind too closely 
 to make me wish to be visibly reminded of one, while 
 I am trying to forget the other. I have tried to speak 
 with you but once. This morning I only paid the 
 tribute which a gentleman should pay to a lady who 
 had most beautifully concluded a service in which he 
 had borne a small part. This meeting to-night was 
 the purest accident ; and if we ever meet again, be 
 assured it will be by accident. So I bid you good 
 night." In a tumult of love and rage I left her there 
 in the bow of The Westernland, nor did I think ever 
 to see her face again. 
 
 Harris and I stood together, as the boat drew near 
 to her Antwerp docks. " "Well, my friend, my kins 
 man," I said, " it will be good-bye presently, and to 
 me it will be regret too."
 
 ON SHIPBOARD 157 
 
 " Why ? Why good-bye ? Is your itinerary fixed 
 like Medo-Persic laws ? " 
 
 " No. I hardly know where I am going. To Rot 
 terdam and The Hague first, perhaps." 
 
 " What s to prevent my going to Rotterdam and 
 The Hague also ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing but your own plans," was my answer. 
 
 " Well, I have no plans. Let s join forces. I know- 
 Europe. You don t. Do you speak French or Gor 
 man ? " 
 
 " Yes, both," I replied. 
 
 " Well, I speak neither ; but I know the country s 
 ways. Let s go together for four months. You re 
 going to the Holy Land, you said. I ll stay by you 
 until you start on that tour. Then I -will go home. 
 What do you say ? " 
 
 " All right, I say. That suits me." 
 
 As we were on the gang-plank he saw the maid 
 of honor getting into a cab. " By Jove," he said, 
 " there s that handsome singer. I saw you speak to 
 her after service. Do you know her ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said. And her cab door shut.
 
 XIV 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 
 
 WE were in Interlaken at the " Beau Kivage." 
 " Five or six years ago," said Harris, " I 
 was sitting just as we are to-night in this 
 stuffy little office room. I had no company. The 
 house was full of Russians. It was raining hard as it 
 does now. Between rain and Russians I had no 
 choice. There was a large, fair-looking man sitting 
 across the room, who I could see was eying me critic 
 ally. He was not a Russian, I was sure, for he did 
 not join in their jargon. I could see, also, he was pre 
 paring to accost me on the supposition that I was not 
 a Russian. I gave him no sign of encouragement, but 
 he rose finally, and crossing took a seat by me. 
 
 u Ye re not a Russian, I doot, he said. 
 
 " No, I m not a Russian. About that I don t 
 doubt, I answered. 
 
 " Ye re an American tourist seein Europe, one o 
 the do-it-in-six- weeks kind, I doot. 
 
 " You are all wrong, sir. I ve been in Switzerland 
 more than six weeks, and it will be six months before 
 I see Boston. 
 
 " Boston ? Ye re a Yankee then. Ye say " guess," 
 and " reckon." 
 
 " Well, I guess I do ; and I reckon you re Scotch. 
 Am I right? 
 
 " No, you re wrang. I was Scotch. But I m 
 American. I dinna believe in the doubles. I was a 
 
 158
 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 159 
 
 Scotch when a laddie at Dunfermline ; but I m a 
 American now. 
 
 " Well, I m glad to see a fellow-countryman, I 
 said. 
 
 " Ye may be, was the answer ; for I m no ordinar 
 man. I m a releegious man. An you re better than 
 naebody. 
 
 " The conversation was becoming amusing by that 
 time, and to cap his blunt queerness, he said, An do 
 ye mean to tell me ye re frae Boston, an no blush i 
 the tellin ? 
 
 " Yes, I answered. Why should I blush ? I was 
 born in Boston, and have always lived there. 
 
 " An , man, ye re no ashamed ? Why, Boston s 
 doomed. Boston s filled wi lost souls. Boston s the 
 home o the Unitarians. A man micht as well be a 
 blasphemer as a Unitarian. 
 
 " Then I laughed long and heartily, and when I re 
 covered myself, said, But I m no Unitarian. I am 
 an Episcopalian. 
 
 "At that he tossed his head and ejaculated, 
 * That s better, I doot. But there s no much releegion 
 in Henry the Eighth papists. Ye re atween the 
 deevil and the deep sea, I doot. But ye ca yersel re 
 leegious. Are ye releegious now ? " 
 
 At that point, I stopped Mr. Harris in his story. 
 " Kinsman," I said, " that s the identical question with 
 which that same man began a conversation with me 
 just about a year ago. His name is David Henderson, 
 and I think he must be one of the most singular char 
 acters in the United States. He probably told you 
 that religion is believing what the catechism says be 
 lieve, whether you do or not, and he s been a mighty 
 good friend to me."
 
 160 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 " His name was Henderson, sure enough, and that is 
 exactly what he said about religion. Who is he ? " 
 
 But before I could answer, he spoke again. " What 
 are all those Russians going out for ? " He went to 
 the window. " It has stopped raining. Let s go out 
 for a breath. Those are wise Russians." We went 
 out and Henderson was forgotten. 
 
 We strolled westward, along the broad road that 
 leads to the great inns where wealth and fashion go. 
 There is an open park, halfway up to the Victoria, 
 with wooden settees scattered along the margin near 
 the road. Harris had told me of this place and of 
 the view which the spectator, when the day is clear, 
 can obtain of the great glory of Interlaken and the 
 Bernese Oberland, the Jungfrau ; but that view had 
 so far been denied us, at first by the fogs that filled the 
 valley, and later by the pouring rain. As we sat in 
 the little park, Harris talked about the great mountain. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "the shape and bulk of 
 that mighty mountain are of themselves sublime. I ll 
 never forget the gleaming of the ice-cap upon its 
 crown, as I first saw it. But," he continued enthusias 
 tically, " when the light of sun and clouds is thrown 
 in glory on the long down-stretching slopes, and on 
 the fingers of snow that reach even to the deep valley 
 below, as if they would gather for themselves some of 
 its verdant loveliness, the vision is entrancing." 
 
 Even as he spoke, there came a movement in the sky. 
 
 " Look, look," I cried. " The scene shifters of the 
 skies have begun their work." 
 
 Then our voices were hushed. Silently, unseen 
 hands rolled the mists away from Jungfrau s summit, 
 and then drew back to left and right the curtains of 
 the clouds, leaving the wondrous brilliancy of the full
 
 ON FOKEIGN SHORES 161 
 
 moon of a European autumn in the midst of the rift. 
 The light fell, touching the eternal ice, transfiguring 
 it before our gaze. Rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, 
 such as only the magic forces of moisture, air, and 
 light can make, flashed and glowed in wonderful 
 iridescence. The scene was beyond all power of word 
 or pen. Speechless there for a quarter of an hour we 
 sat and watched the pageant of the heavenly light. 
 Then the curtain fell. The clouds swept back over 
 the mountain s crest and left the world once more to 
 darkness. As the glory passed, Mr. Harris repeated 
 softly, " And he carried me away in the spirit to a 
 great and high mountain, . . . having the glory 
 of God, and his light was like unto a stone most 
 precious, even like a jasper stone clear as crystal." 
 He was silent for a moment, then resumed, " Phillips 
 Brooks is my rector. He and I sat on this very seat 
 one night two years ago, and saw the mountain under 
 the moon, but we did not have clouds and darkness 
 for curtains, nor the winds for the shifters of the 
 scenes." 
 
 By and by, the rain began to fall again heavily, 
 and we retraced our steps to the Beau Rivage and the 
 Russians. 
 
 We were in Rome on New Year s day. I found 
 there letters from Henderson and Joe Smith, and, 
 most unexpectedly, one from Harry Sinclair. Its 
 postmark was Duqueboro, which aroused my interest 
 immediately, and its contents ran as follows : 
 
 "DEAR OLD CHUM : 
 
 " I don t know where this will find you, nor 
 will you have the faintest idea how I happen to be 
 writing from Duqueboro. I am well, and so is Phyllis,
 
 162 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 and she says I may send her love though you don t de 
 serve to have any good woman s love, since you so 
 shamefully neglect whole heaps of the article that you 
 might have for the asking. 
 
 " The day after you sailed, Mr. Henderson came out 
 to see us. I wish you could have come and seen how 
 snug we were in our little home before we left it. He 
 told me you had sailed for a six months trip abroad, 
 and the reasons that led to it. That was sad about your 
 mother, chum ; it was indeed. I didn t know a thing 
 about it. There was no way I could, you know. 
 But, old boy, everything a man could think, of love 
 and sympathy for his friend, I have thought for you. 
 I have never forgotten the vacation I spent at your 
 home. Your mother was so lovely to me, I envied 
 you. You know my mother died when I was only 
 thirteen. That you were away from her was sadder 
 than all. Mr. Henderson said he helped you about 
 getting started for home. Why didn t that young 
 Felix Ardman go home with you, instead of leaving 
 you to go alone, as I suppose you did ? " 
 
 And I stopped reading just there, to wonder at 
 David Henderson. Not one word of all he had done 
 for me had he told Sinclair. But Harry need not 
 have wondered about Felix. It was not that he was 
 more thoughtless than other young fellows. He was 
 a good-hearted man. Had some one suggested to him 
 that he could do certain things for me, he surely 
 would have done them. But he was not cast in such 
 mould as to act on unselfish lines on his own initia 
 tive. I resumed the reading. 
 
 "You will wonder how I know where to address 
 you. My guest told me. He said he was in New 
 York on business, and happened to be at the St. Denis
 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 163 
 
 just as you were leaving for your steamer, and so 
 went with you to The Westernland and saw you off. 
 He is very fond of you. He gave me your Paris cor 
 respondents names. He stayed with us two days. 
 Then nothing would do but Phyllis and I must go 
 home with him for a visit, and we went. 
 
 " I ll say one thing for David Henderson : he never 
 does things by halves. Nothing on the train was 
 good enough for us but the parlor car. The enter 
 tainment at his house was the best I ever enjoyed. 
 We were there for a week, and when we returned he 
 sent us back in the same comfortable way in which we 
 came, and bore every expense of the whole outing. 
 What a royal time that was ! Duqueboro was my 
 old home. I had not looked upon its lovely old smoki- 
 ness for five years, and I was glad of the treat. The 
 old place was dirty, but it was dear. Everybody likes 
 Duqueboro. You can t keep a collar clean for a half 
 day and the men s faces are as grimy as if they were 
 the faces of miners out of the coal pits, but the people 
 are splendid. Some days the fog is so thick you can t 
 tell which side of the street you are on, and you can t 
 see how to get across to the other side to find out 
 whether you were on that side already or not. The 
 rector of the Church of the Redeemer was away, 
 and arrangements had been made for me to preach in 
 the church of my boyhood. I enjoyed that day. 
 Friends of my father, who remembered ms as a child, 
 crowded around after the service and said pleasant 
 things. But despite it all, I was lonesome. The 
 playfellows of my boyhood were scattered, and those 
 that were there helped to make me lonesome. The 
 people were splendid, just as everyone was saving. 
 They told me I had a perfectly lovely wife. Well,
 
 164 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 I knew that before, but to hear others say so was a 
 gratification. Some told Phyllis I was a mighty fine 
 preacher, and she remarked that she had known that for 
 along time. Henderson drove us to church and stayed 
 to service. When we were all back at home enjoying a 
 good dinner, he broke out all at once : Lad, how do 
 ye manage wi a that jumpin up and sittin doon, 
 and the choir breakin in on ye in a sorts of places 
 where they shouldna ? I don t wonder it muddles 
 your brain. I ve heard poorer sermons than that the 
 day, I doot, but I dinna ken where, and I ve no use 
 for your papistry anyway. Isn t he queer? 
 
 "He is evidently a very important man in Duque- 
 boro. He seems to be universally trusted, and 
 people say he is rich. He did me a good turn about 
 that old Texas land. Did I tell you about that ? 
 You know, I have a little money left me by my father. 
 I invested twenty-five hundred dollars with a mort 
 gage company in Texas. The mortgageor was no 
 good. I put the matter into Henderson s hands be 
 cause he had been my father s lawyer. He foreclosed 
 and took title for me, and, just about the time you 
 sailed, he sold it subject to my approval ; and while I 
 was in Duqueboro, he paid me the money. When I 
 had his check in my hand I felt good, for I had thought 
 it lost. 
 
 " Well, now, prepare for wonders. When I had 
 been back at home four weeks, there came a letter 
 from the people of the Church of the Redeemer in 
 Duqueboro saying their rector was to leave them in 
 two weeks: that they wanted no break in their 
 services : that they had heard me recently with great 
 pleasure, and now asked me formally to accept the 
 charge of the Church of the Redeemer. So here we
 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 165 
 
 are in Duqueboro, only six weeks from the time we 
 went to visit David Henderson. Say, chum I wish 
 you were married. I can t see how a man can be 
 successful as a pastor without a wife. But you never 
 cared for girls much. Phyllis and I were sure you 
 would be enamored of her maid of honor. You were 
 just suited for each other. You are both tall, both 
 fine-looking : she is almost as beautiful as Phyllis : 
 you are dark, and she is as fair as the day : there could 
 not have been a better match, or so we thought, but 
 each of you acted as if you never desired to see the 
 other again. See here, old boy, why not start on that 
 quest now ? And say ! She s on the same side of the 
 ocean with you now. She sailed about the same time 
 you did. I don t know what boat she went on. Her 
 brother is with her. His wife died suddenly from a 
 cold she caught in the Adirondacks about a year ago, 
 and he is seeking by change to forget his grief. 
 
 " Bruce Fraser, one of our ushers, is managing his 
 business in Newark while he is away. In the maid s 
 last letter she talked more about Fraser than I liked. 
 But Phyllis says if she loved him she would not talk 
 about him at all. 
 
 " Say, old chum, why don t you wake up and go 
 after that girl? You acted like a dolt through two 
 whole days at the Wayne Mansion. Brace up : go 
 after her. Write to me here at Duqueboro. Tell me 
 when you re coming home, and I ll get Phyllis to have 
 a house party. We ll invite you and the maid of 
 honor, with anybody else that Phyllis knows that 
 will be nice, for foils, while you and the maid can do 
 the real sword act, you know. 
 
 " There s only one more bit of news. That Major 
 Ardman, whom you saw in Greenton, has moved back
 
 166 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 to Duqueboro. He lived here once. He and Hender 
 son are great friends. Henderson got a place for 
 Felix in the railroad offices, and the whole family has 
 returned. I hear Felix finds Henderson s daughter 
 Julia exceedingly agreeable. Well, good-bye. With 
 all sorts of good wishes. 
 
 " HAKRY." 
 
 That letter threw me into a brown study. I sat 
 with it in my hand in the dingy little room, while the 
 figures of Harry and Phyllis and Henderson and the 
 fascinating girl were dancing through my brain. I 
 did not hear Harris enter nor know that he had 
 entered, until he called out in a cheery voice, " Hallo, 
 old man ! what s the matter ? What do you think ? 
 I saw that girl down the way leading to the Forum." 
 
 " What girl ? " I asked, knowing only too well what 
 his answer would be. 
 
 "Why, that beautiful girl that sang Art thou 
 weary ? Don t you remember her ? I declare she is 
 peerless. I wish you had been along ; there s not a 
 sight like her in this old city. All you ll see here is 
 ruins. But she is no relic of a past day. She is " 
 
 " Oh, stop, unless you want to make me mad. I 
 wish the girl was on the other side of the ocean. She 
 haunts me. I think I have beaten her out of my heart, 
 and lo ! she is right before me in living form again." 
 
 " Why, how s that ? " was his question. " Do you 
 know her ? Did you ever see her before you boarded 
 The Westernland f " 
 
 " Yes, I know her, and I know her to my cost." 
 
 " Been crossed in love ? " said he. 
 
 " No," I replied. " Not crossed, nor paralleled, but 
 encircled, enmeshed ; and I want to get out, and can t."
 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 167 
 
 " I wouldn t try," he said. " I d take what comes." 
 
 "But there ll nothing come. I ve renounced her, 
 and I won t stir a step in Rome lest I meet her." 
 
 " Oh, you won t meet her. She and her brother 
 start to-night for Naples, and thence they sail to 
 Corsica, and thence to France and homeward." 
 
 " Well, for that I am devoutly thankful." I hoped 
 that would end the matter, but it did not. 
 
 " Tell me about it," he said. He listened most in 
 terestedly to the recital, asking at the end, " And is 
 that all?" 
 
 " All ? Isn t that enough ? " 
 
 " And you ve never called on her ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And never seen her at her home ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And never told her that you love her ? " 
 
 " No." Then he laughed heartily. " Give me a 
 copy of that sonnet," he said. " I ll have it sung at 
 your wedding." 
 
 " I shall never marry," I replied. " My romance is 
 over ere it is begun. I shall never see her again, and 
 I ll never marry any other girl." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! you make me tired," he said. " You ll 
 marry that girl yet. She ll tell you yes the first time 
 you ask her." 
 
 " You say she goes to Naples to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes, Naples to-night ; after a week there, Corsica ; 
 by the first of February, Lyons ; then Paris by March ; 
 and home after a look at the Lake Country." 
 
 " How do you know so much about those people s 
 movements ? " 
 
 "Why, I asked them." 
 
 " You talked with them, then ? "
 
 168 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did they say anything, well, anything about 
 me?" 
 
 Then Harris laughed so he could not answer for a 
 little. When he spoke he said, " I ve renounced her; 
 I ll never see her again ; I want to forget she lives ; 
 and, oh, oh, oh, and, Did she say anything about me ? 
 Say, are you going to Naples to-night ? Are you ? " 
 
 I threw a magazine at his head. He ducked and 
 said, " Yes, she said something about you. Her 
 brother introduced me, and she said, You are the 
 gentleman who was with the young minister who sat 
 at the captain s table, aren t you ? 
 
 " Yes, I said. He is my cousin. 
 
 " Is he ? said she. How interesting. What is his 
 name ? 
 
 " Why, you know his name, said the brother. 
 You met him at St. David s and in the Adiron- 
 dacks. 
 
 " Oh, so I did, said she. Where is he now, Mr. 
 Harris ? He seemed very nice that last Sunday. He 
 came and spoke about my little part in the service. 
 He hurried away so I couldn t thank him for his part. 
 Then the brother hurried her off." 
 
 " Harris ! are you lying ?" I asked. 
 
 " No. That s the truth." 
 
 " Then you knew I knew her, before you asked me 
 if I did ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, I did." 
 
 Then I threw my Baedeker at his head. He dodged 
 again and laughing in great glee said, " See here, kins 
 man, you re dangerous. Don t do that any more. If 
 you happen to hit me and knock me out, I can t go to 
 Jerusalem with you."
 
 ON FOREIGN SHORES 169 
 
 " Are you going to the Holy Land with me ? " I 
 asked incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, I am. Made up my mind to-day. Letters 
 from home make it possible. I m going all right." 
 
 " Good ! " I said ; " we ll call it quits." 
 
 All that night I dreamed that I met the maid of 
 honor on the way up Vesuvius, and there was the 
 odor of orange blossoms from the villas that we 
 passed as we ascended. 
 
 " And this is Jerusalem. Yonder is Olivet. There 
 is the brook Kidron. It is the old city, but the aroma 
 is gone." Thus, Harris to me. We were in the 
 Holy Land by sufferance of the unholy Turk. We 
 did the things the tourist does. Painting, scripture, 
 poetry, oratory, song have done their best for the old, 
 old land. The Turk has done his worst. Poverty, 
 beggary, and things utterly intolerable are on every 
 hand. 
 
 On February first we reached Jerusalem. March 
 first found us in Beirut. Do you know what it 
 means to be be-flead, and be-donkeyed, and be-back- 
 sheeshed, clear to the end of endurance ? If not, no 
 words can enlighten you. Language is not equal to 
 the working capacity of one healthy Syrian flea. 
 
 One afternoon, as evening was drawing down on 
 the heights above the Sea of Galilee, in the region of 
 old Capernaum, we two pilgrims sat there, wrapt in 
 meditation. From our elevation the water of that 
 storied sea looked blue as sapphire, while the shore 
 outline, far across, was softened by enchantment-lend 
 ing distance. 
 
 There is a remarkable painting by one of the gifted 
 artists of the world, that shows the Christ sitting
 
 170 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 alone on these same heights, gazing at the very scene 
 which was spread before our eyes. Remembering 
 that picture, fancy seized me : made me lose myself : 
 made me forget that I was I, and that Harris was 
 Harris. I was a spirit seeing spiritual things. All 
 else was real. The hills were there : the bare rocks, 
 colored by time to yellow-reds and sombre browns, 
 were there : the sea, that lovely sea, where once my 
 Saviour loved to be, lay placid, unswept by storm. 
 A solitary sail of fishermen homeward bound ere night 
 should fall was moving the lazy boat toward the 
 hither shore. Gadara, as Jesus knew it once, far 
 across the water, lifted high her abrupt mass of moun 
 tains. Slowly, upon the heights, between us and the 
 sea, a figure took shape the solitary, lonely figure 
 of a man. The face was hidden, for his gaze was 
 toward the sea. A loose and seamless dress was 
 wrapped about him. One knee was bent ; on that an 
 elbow rested. His head was resting in one hand : yet 
 though the face was hidden, it was plain his eyes were 
 fixed as though on something far away : far away over 
 the sea ; far away over the mountains ; far away over 
 the distant deserts ; far away over the vast on-stretch 
 ing continent of which no man of his age knew aught, 
 save only he ; far away over the boundless ocean lying 
 still beyond ; far away, over and on, and over and on, 
 until his vision embraced the whole wide world. That 
 figure was the figure of my Lord. My soul saw him, 
 and went out to him in longing love. 
 
 The vision passed. Harris and I were alone. The 
 guides and donkeys were far down the hill. The 
 night was falling fast. Reluctantly we left this mount 
 of memory and rapture, to go down to the waiting 
 hostelry below.
 
 XV 
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 
 
 BEIRUT was the farthest point of our tour. 
 From there we turned our faces homeward. 
 Greenton never looked more beautiful than on 
 the April day of my return. The leaves were just 
 taking on their fresh spring color, and blue and white 
 and yellow crocuses were lifting their small chalices 
 to the sky. The buds on the trees were swelling, and 
 the signs of nature astir for her summer work were 
 on every hand. " Home, sweet home " was dropping 
 in bits of half-sung, half-hummed tones from my lips 
 as the stage rolled up to the old house. It was open, 
 and a group of people, whom I loved dearly, waited to 
 give me greeting ; and as they heard the rattle of the 
 Concord coach, they came out upon the porch. There 
 were Joe Smith, Elder and Mrs. Harfis, and a niece 
 of Elder Harfis, Helen Raymond, who was soprano in 
 our church choir. "What a reception that was ! My 
 hand was extended for the shaking that we Americans 
 love so well, as my foot touched the first step ; but 
 ere anyone could take it, Mrs. Harfis threw both her 
 arms around my neck and kissed me heartily. That 
 almost took my breath, then I turned and deliberately 
 kissed Helen Raymond, and that quite as nearly took 
 her breath. " It s great to be a dominie, and come 
 home to your flock," said Joe. " Mrs. Harfis has never 
 kissed me. But she might almost any time," he added. 
 " How about Helen?" said the elder ; and both Joe 
 and Helen blushed furiously. 
 
 171
 
 172 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 It might have been awkward but for the announce 
 ment of supper. Hunger and the joy of eating home 
 things at the home table, with home friends about, 
 would have made a worse supper like a feast. But, 
 yet and yet, my eyes went often across to my 
 mother s old place at the board. She was not there. 
 And in the midst of my joy, there was pain. If the 
 rest noticed my look, it only made them all unusually 
 thoughtful for me. 
 
 As talk went rambling on, now occupied with 
 questions about my travels, and now giving out items 
 of news about the church, there came an opportunity 
 for me to seek a solution of one problem which had 
 been in my mind unsolved all through these months. 
 It was about Joe, and the fact that presbytery would 
 allow him to preach, being neither minister, licentiate, 
 nor elder. The opportunity came through Joe s speak 
 ing about my acquaintance with Mr. Harris. 
 
 " Joe," I remarked, " Mr. Harris expects you back 
 in Boston next Tuesday." 
 
 Joe s quick answer surprised me. 
 
 " "Well, the old man won t see me back. Maybe he 
 will some other Tuesday, but not next Tuesday." 
 
 " What s the matter with next Tuesday, Joe ? Are 
 you going to hold the fort here, and send me off to 
 hunt a new parish ? " I asked. 
 
 Mrs. Harfis replied before Joe could. Her round 
 face fairly beamed with delight as she said, " Send 
 you off. No indeed. Mr. Smith is good. He is real 
 good. If you were gone, we would want him. But 
 he cannot hold any forts here just yet. He has done 
 his part like a man. But that was not your part. 
 We want you, pastor ; we want you." 
 
 " The audience is waiting for the first violin," said
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 173 
 
 Joe. " That s all right. I m content to be second to 
 you, old boy. 
 
 " Well, Joe, if you have been as good a second for 
 the last six months as }^ou were in the revival days, 
 the church has not suffered. And there s a place for 
 you in the Greenton pulpit whenever you desire, as 
 long as I am pastor. You may preach every time you 
 come on your rounds." 
 
 " Rounds ? " He tossed his head and threw out 
 his hands like a Frenchman. " Rounds ? Do you 
 think I m going back on the road for Murdoch, Stiles, 
 and Harris ? " 
 
 Then I had to own up that I had not expected any 
 such thing. But the question afforded the opportunity 
 to learn Joe s status with presbytery. He had first 
 been elected elder by the Greenton church, made 
 reader for the Sunday services, and after three months 
 of study had passed sufficient examinations to be pro 
 visionally licensed for three months. Elder Harfis 
 told me this, and ended by saying, " The time of that 
 license has just expired." 
 
 " But I ve not expired," said Joe. " I am to have 
 further examination this fall, and I ll be a full-fledged 
 preacher-bird some day. And I have expectations 
 too, old man. The First Presbyterian Church of 
 Grandview, down the river, wants a superintendent 
 for their mission. They have offered the place to me, 
 and I m going down there next week to look over the 
 ground." 
 
 " So that is why you ll not be in Boston next 
 Tuesday ? " 
 
 " Yes, that s part of the why. But there s more. 
 If I like the place, and the people like me, and I make 
 up my mind to accept their invitation, I m coming
 
 174: THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 back here after Miss Raymond, and she s going down 
 to be my assistant." 
 
 My next speech was one of the most stupid a man 
 ever made. What Joe meant ought to have been as 
 plain as day. " Why, but, Joe," was my stammering 
 comment, " what would people say down there if you 
 should take Miss Raymond with you for assistant ? " 
 
 " Say ? What do you suppose they d say ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose they would say it was unconven 
 tional, to say the least." I chanced to look at 
 Helen ; she was blushing and evidently in great con 
 fusion. I saw what a blunder I had made, but before 
 I could repair it, Joe answered : 
 
 " No, they wouldn t. They would say, * How do 
 you do, Mrs. Smith. We are very glad to welcome 
 you, and we hope you ll be very happy. " 
 
 Then I said, " Helen Raymond, I beg your pardon, 
 and I congratulate you both from the bottom of my 
 heart." Then everyone looked happy. And nothing 
 could have been finer than that. Mr. Harfis was rich, 
 and Helen Raymond was good. The elder had no 
 children, so that his property would all go to Helen 
 some day. 
 
 The evening that followed was one of pure delight. 
 Ten o clock came all too quickly, and with it the de 
 parture of my guests. How good it was to be in the 
 old home once more ! My mother was away, but her 
 holy influence lingered, and memory held communion 
 with her that first night back in the old home. Noth 
 ing had changed since her departure. The chairs 
 were in their usual places. The curtains hung just as 
 they always had. The old " what-not " stood in the 
 corner, holding the bits of bric-a-brac my father had 
 brought from Switzerland in the long ago. Some im-
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 175 
 
 pulse made me go over to sit down upon the floor by 
 the antique piece of furniture as I had often done in 
 childhood, and in a moment I was oblivious of all 
 things save such as memory was bringing back, when 
 a cheery voice called out : 
 
 " Hello, Dominie ! real Dominie. How are you ? " 
 and there stood Tim Wendell, who had entered in his 
 old way, unannounced. I essayed to rise as he crossed 
 the room, but he put out his hand with deprecatory 
 gesture. 
 
 " No, don t get up ; sit still. I ll join you. I m 
 right glad to see the real dominie. Joe s good. He s 
 fine. He can preach well, yes, he preaches full as 
 well as you do. But he s only a make-believe dominie, 
 as far as we are concerned." 
 
 " Well, I must say, that s good ! " another voice 
 called out, and there was Joe, hitherto unobserved by 
 either of us. " I m glad to know your real opinion of 
 me, Tim. But I ll tell you what, parson, I ve done 
 what you could never do. I ve landed that chap in 
 Greenton Presbyterian Church." 
 
 " Is that so, Tim ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, that s so," he answered briefly. 
 
 Springing to my feet and seizing Wendell s hand, I 
 pulled him up, throwing my arms around him in a 
 great hug. He wriggled and twisted, succeeding after 
 a little in breaking from the bondage of my arms, 
 when he cried out : 
 
 " There, Dominie, that s enough : I m not accus 
 tomed to that sort of thing." Then he backed off 
 toward a chair. 
 
 " But is it really and truly so ? " I persisted, 
 hardly believing his first reply. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "it s all so," Then, as he saw me
 
 176 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 making for him again, " Keep off, Dominie ! " he 
 cried. " I m dangerous." 
 
 " Tim," I said, as \ve sat down, " I do want to know 
 more about this strange thing. You don t mind my 
 saying strange, for you know it never entered my heart 
 that you would unite with a church. I ve known you 
 were a Christian, but I thought you d go on living as 
 you had, outside the church. Now, tell me how this 
 happened." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, then Tim replied : 
 
 " Dominie, you know I never believed much in 
 Christians as I saw them. I often said to myself that 
 I d never join a church and live such a life as I saw 
 men living who called themselves Christians. But 
 I ve been watching the life of Elder Harfis for six 
 months, and I ve watched that old Scotchman, Jimmie 
 MacNaughton, and they are showing that a Christian 
 profession need be no sham. Then, Bob s boy kept 
 after me until I gave in. Dominie, he s nothing but 
 a kid ; but the Scripture s been fulfilled in him : and 
 a little child shall lead them. " 
 
 " What about Jimmie MacNaughton ? " was my next 
 inquiry. 
 
 " Well," Joe began, " you know, he signed the 
 pledge not to drink, at the time of the revival. No 
 one supposed for a moment that he d keep it. But he 
 has, absolutely. When I came as preacher s dummy, 
 he was standing like a rock. The boys of his past 
 association tried to throw him down, but when a 
 Scotchman says he won t, he won t : that s all. So I 
 made up my mind to use him. He had influence, I 
 knew, with the very fellows that were trying to lure 
 him back to his dram-drinking habits. They were all 
 Bob s tavern bummers. Getting hold of Jimmie, I
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB ITT 
 
 said, MacNaughton, let s get up a "Bummers Club," 
 you and I. Let s get those boys to join that have 
 been trying to make you drink. I ll find a room 
 somewhere, and we ll meet once a week and have the 
 best sort of a time. 
 
 " Jimmie took right hold. Bob s boy induced his 
 father to let us have the big old room where I used to 
 show samples, for a meeting every Saturday night. 
 Jimmie coaxed about a half-dozen of the best of the 
 crowd to come the first night, and I told em stories 
 about my life on the road. Next week there were 
 more, and ever since last Thanksgiving we ve had 
 rousing meetings. A crowd of those chaps come 
 now, and no gin is the pass-word. No ginner can 
 get in until he ll promise to go without gin for two 
 whole days. You know, I said I was going to bust 
 Bob s business, or at least the bar part of it, and I ve 
 pretty nearly done it. You come in Saturday night, 
 and I ll show vou such a sight as you never saw in all 
 
 v O / 
 
 your life. I ve got fifty bums who ll be there, every 
 one of em sober, and they ll sing, and talk, and pray, 
 so as to astonish you. One of em told me he thought 
 they was astonishin God. This is my last Saturday 
 night, and I m going to make a big strike. If I win, 
 you ll have the happiest year in this town you ever 
 had." 
 
 " "What are you going to do, Joe ? " I asked. 
 
 " I won t tell you. Come and see for yourself." 
 
 " But, Joe, I must study Saturday night," I ob 
 jected. " I must be getting my sermons ready." 
 
 " What ! You going back to that old racket ? 
 Been away six months, seeing the sights of the world, 
 tramping over the land where Jesus walked and 
 talked, and so hard up for ideas that you ve got to
 
 178 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 stay in your old den on Saturday night ? I m 
 ashamed of you." 
 
 That was too close a personal appeal. I answered, 
 "Well, Joe, I ll be there." To speak truth, I was 
 ashamed that I had momentarily declined. 
 
 " Of course you ll be there," was the honest man s 
 reply. 
 
 The company that gathered in the sample room, 
 that Saturday night, was a strange, new sight to me. 
 The Water Street Mission, in the days of " Rowdy 
 Brown " and " Jerry McAuley," could not far surpass 
 it. That Greenton could produce such a crowd 
 seemed to me incredible. 
 
 Those men looked at me in a " what-you-doing- 
 here " manner. Joe saw it. 
 
 " Look here, boys," he began. " Don t you mind 
 the parson : he s as good a friend as you ll ever have. 
 You wouldn t have had me here to-night, but for him ; 
 and you wouldn t be here without me. This club 
 came out of what he did for me. He s white clear 
 through, whichever way you look, and he s straight- 
 grained. Get up, boys, every one of you, and give the 
 Dominie a cheer. Up with you. Now : Hip ! Hip ! 
 Hurrah ! " And they made that old room ring. 
 Then, while they stood, Joe led off, " Just as I am, 
 without one plea," and they sang it oh, how they 
 sang it ! Could Charlotte Elliot have heard her 
 hymn sung that night, she would have thanked God. 
 
 There followed prayers and songs and testimonies, 
 then suddenly Joe turned to Bob s boy, who had been 
 there all the time, saying, " Where s your father ? " 
 
 " In the bar-room, I suppose," was the answer. 
 
 " Go tell him I want him." 
 
 What Joe had in mind was beyond conjecture, but
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 179 
 
 that it had to do with the " big strike " he had said he 
 would make, seemed plain. 
 
 Bob came in presently, and his boy followed and 
 sat down by the door. Bob was a big man, fully 
 six feet tall. His forehead was clear and high. He 
 must have turned the scales at two hundred and fifty 
 pounds. His face was very red : he evidently was 
 one of his own best customers. He never became 
 boisterously nor stupidly drunk, but was always 
 more drunk than sober. With a different history he 
 would have been a very handsome man. He had been 
 a familiar sight from my boyhood. An employee of 
 a shoe factory of the town, unmarried, industrious, 
 sober, and always respectful in demeanor, he had been 
 regarded as a good young man, one who would some 
 day be something more than a daily wage earner. 
 But the shoe establishment failed. The men who had 
 depended upon it for a living were scattered abroad. 
 Bob was almost the only one who remained in Green- 
 ton, and to the surprise of everyone he opened a saloon. 
 He had prospered in the wretched business until he had 
 become proprietor of the main hotel of the town, now 
 known as " Bob s " tavern. He himself had developed 
 into a red-faced, coarse-looking vender of wretched 
 drinks, and was surely on the down grade of life. 
 
 When on this Saturday night he appeared before the 
 club, he was more red-faced than usual, and evidently 
 further down the grade than when last I saw him. 
 The only helpful influences around him were his wife 
 and boy. He had married a farmer s daughter. 
 Everyone had wondered that she would have him. 
 But their love had begun before Bob lost his factory 
 work, and the girl stood stedfast. She was by nature 
 a lady, and, like many another woman, had thought
 
 180 THE MAID OF HCXXOil 
 
 she could keep Bob upright in. spite of the saloon. 
 She had made his tavern popular by the table she 
 spread, but her heart was slowly breaking. 
 
 As for the boy, at the time of his conversion in the 
 great revival, he had absolutely refused to be any 
 longer a mixer of drinks at his father s bar. There 
 had been a little storm over it, but the mother had 
 taken the part of the boy, and together they had 
 broken down the opposition of the father. The boy 
 had started on his journey from the bar to the pulpit. 
 
 " Hello, Bob ! how are you ? " came Joe s cheery 
 voice, as the tavernkeeper entered. " Boys, give Bob 
 a cheer." 
 
 They did. Bob stood there, not knowing what was 
 wanted of him, and not in the least understanding this 
 reception. Joe came to his relief in a moment. 
 
 " Sit down, Bob. This is your crowd. You used to 
 have em out at the bar. I got hold of the whole lot 
 and moved em in here. Which is best, boys, bar or 
 club?" 
 
 And they roared as one man, " Club, you bet ! " 
 
 " You know, Bob," Joe continued, " the parson s got 
 home, and I ve got to light out. The parson s going to 
 have his innings now, and I expect to goto Grandview, 
 away down the river. The parson can run the church, 
 but he don t know the first thing about running this 
 club. He d bust it up in a month. There s just one 
 man in Greenton who can run it, and that s Bob 
 Hazeltine. He can do it." He turned to the crowd. 
 " Say, boys, do you like Bob ? " 
 
 " You bet we do," came the answer. 
 
 " Now, boys, Bob s going to lead this club. He didn t 
 know it five minutes ago, but he knows it now. But, 
 boys, he can t lead this club, and tend bar too can he ? "
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 181 
 
 Again they roared out, " You bet he can t ! " 
 
 " See here, boys," Joe went on, " I m going to be 
 married, in church, three weeks from next Tuesday, 
 to Miss Raymond. The relatives will sit in the front 
 pews, middle aisle. Then there ll be a block of fifty 
 seats reserved for you, and you re going to come, 
 with such clothes as you ve got, the best you ve got, 
 of course, and each of you will wear a badge, the 
 badge of the Greenton Good Bummers Club, and 
 you ll be marched in together, and Mr. Robert Hazel- 
 tine will lead you, and he ll be proud, and you ll be 
 proud, and when I come in, I ll see you, and I ll be 
 proud. But he can t do it and tend bar, can he, 
 boys ? " 
 
 And once more they fairly yelled, " You bet he 
 can t." 
 
 Then, like a flash, Joe turned to where Bob was 
 seated, and extended his hand. Bob rose and took it. 
 Steadily, but very quietly, Joe began : 
 
 " Mr. Robert Hazeltine, there s a man in you some 
 where, a whole man, if he hasn t been drowned with 
 drink. You used to be the whitest man in the whole 
 crowd, in the old days of Lamb s shoe factory. But 
 you re not white now. You re red and bloated and 
 beery, and down in your heart you don t like it. When 
 you stop to think, you hate yourself. You ve got a boy : 
 there s not another like him in this town. He s going 
 to college. Tim Wendell says he ll lead his class right 
 from the start, and keep it up clear through. Hell be 
 a preacher, Bob ; that s what that boy ll be. Do you 
 want him to feel ashamed to mention his father be 
 fore the people of the church where he ll be settled? 
 Do you want that, Bob ? It s up to you, old man. 
 What ll it be : club or bar ? "
 
 182 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 The sight of Joe Smith and Bob Hazeltine facing 
 each other was one never to be forgotten. Bob had 
 sold Joe many a drink. Memory must have been busy 
 in both of them. Bob puffed, tried to speak, stam 
 mered, but was relieved by a cry of : " Don t cut her 
 out, Bob." And then another voice broke in : " Bust 
 the bottles, Bob : bust the bottles. - Joe said never a 
 word, but stood looking that struggling man straight 
 in the face, still gripping his hand. Then the boy 
 Charlie came across from where he had been seated, 
 laid his hand on his father s shoulder, and turned to 
 the expectant company, saying : 
 
 " Men, this is not old Bob the tavern-keeper ; this is 
 my father, Mr. Robert Hazeltine." 
 
 Then to his father he said quietly : 
 
 " Father, I ve settled it for you." 
 
 Bob dropped Joe s hand, which all this time he had 
 held, and threw his arms around his boy. " Yes, my 
 son, you ve settled it," he cried. " I ll give it up. 
 I m pretty well soaked to-night. I ll have an awful 
 struggle to stand, but I ll give it up. You ll stand by 
 me, boys, won t you ? You ll help me, Charlie, won t 
 you? Joe, you can t : you ll be gone. But " 
 
 " But I ll stand by you, Robert Hazeltine," I said, 
 filled with emotion at the scene, as I rose and went 
 over to his side, " and Jesus Christ will stand by you 
 if you ll let Him, for He has come to save you." And 
 at that the bummers in that room burst out with the 
 Gospel song : 
 
 " I ll stand by you till the morning, 
 I ve come to save you, do not fear." 
 
 "When the noise had subsided, Bob said, " Come with 
 me, boys. All come. You, Joe ; you, parson ; you,
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 183 
 
 Charlie." He led the way to the bar-rooin, a place 
 that had been all too familiar to so many of that 
 company. Inside were a half dozen loafers. Two 
 men were drinking at the bar. 
 
 " Boys," Bob began, addressing them, " that s the 
 last drink that will ever be sold over this bar. I don t 
 want to turn any man out of my house, but I must ask 
 you all to walk out of this room. I ve turned over a 
 new leaf. In five minutes this room will be closed and 
 locked, and its lights out. The boys have made me 
 leader of Joe Smith s club of bummers. Joe s going 
 to leave and the boys wanted me to take his place, but 
 they told me I couldn t lead the club and run a bar. 
 They put it square up at me, club or bar, and the 
 club wins. I ve got the fight of my life ahead of me, 
 I know ; but nobody ever saw Bob Hazeltine run away 
 from a fight, and the parson there says Jesus Christ 
 will be my backer, and I m going to give Him the 
 chance. Walk out, boys: you ve had your last drink 
 in Bob s tavern." 
 
 Slowly, one by one, all went out. Bob put out the 
 lights and locked the door. What Joe had said nine 
 months before, in the meeting which he and Elder 
 Harfis had held, had come true. He had "busted 
 Bob s bar." 
 
 When Joe Smith and Robert Hazeltine came into 
 church together on Sunday morning, there was a stir 
 in the congregation. The people could not under 
 stand, when they were assembling, why five pews on 
 each side of the middle aisle close in front were kept 
 free. They remained empty until just before the 
 opening of the service. Then Joe and Bob walked 
 down the middle aisle together. To see Hazeltine in
 
 184 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 church was most unusual. But when immediately be 
 hind the first pair came fifty other men who were at 
 once recognized as Jimmie MacNaughton s brigade of 
 bums, surprise and curiosity were at their height. 
 They were not a well-dressed body of men. They were 
 neither handsome nor attractive, but the faces were 
 no longer besotted. Had anyone said, even after the 
 wonderful revival, that on the first Sunday after my 
 return from a prolonged absence, fifty of Greenton s 
 worst characters would come to my church, led by the 
 keeper of the town tavern, he would have been scouted 
 by me as a dreamer. 
 
 The programme that day had its surprises even for 
 Joe. Just as the people rose for the invocation, Hen 
 derson and Wendell entered the church together. That 
 something memorable was once more to occur in 
 Greenton church was probable, but what form it 
 would take, no tongue could have told. 
 
 The congregation was large, for the news was 
 broadcast that the pastor was at home once more. 
 The Scripture lesson was the story of Zaccheus. His 
 confession made my text : " And Zaccheus said if I 
 have taken an} r thing from any man I restore him 
 fourfold." I told the story of Jimmie MacNaughton. 
 Saved by the revival from the sin of drink, and set to 
 service by the tact and resourcefulness of Joe Smith, 
 he had formed the club composed of the men who had 
 assembled for worship with us. They had been 
 drunkards, and had been brought to Christ. The 
 remarkable meeting of the night before was then de 
 scribed, with Bob in the role of Zaccheus. Bob had 
 been taking things from men for a long time , taking 
 health, taking character, taking home comforts , taking 
 money, taking power to work , taking hope of salva-
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 185 
 
 tion, taking self-respect, taking sense of honor and 
 giving in exchange nothing except the drink which had 
 robbed them. And now he had been suddenly 
 brought by the love and grace of God to say, " I 
 will stop all this. I will make such restitution as 
 I am able." I finished, " Beloved people, this man is 
 no longer Bob the rum-seller ; this man is Mr. Robert 
 Hazeltine, our fellow-citizen, the proprietor of the 
 Greenton Inn." Just then Jiminie MacNaughton 
 rose and said, " Noo, lads : here s to Robbie : Hip, hip," 
 and they rose with three great cheers. 
 
 As the noise of the cheers subsided, another volume 
 of sound took its place. The whole congregation, led 
 by the club, was singing, "Just as I am." 
 
 There was nothing more for me to do. The meet 
 ing had gone out of my control. Before the singing 
 had ended, Henderson was seen coming down the aisle. 
 When the song ceased he was facing the congregation. 
 He turned to me first, saying, " I m richt glad to see 
 ye in yer pulpit again, Dominie, but ye had na expecta 
 tion o seein me here, I doot." 
 
 Then he turned back to the congregation. 
 
 " Ye will hae a forgotten me, but the preacher hasna. 
 I m the man who made all the stir here because 
 I caught a big trout in yon river, aboot a year syne, 
 an I hae come back again to catch anither. I m 
 David Henderson. I came to town last night. I 
 heard a muckle stir in the tavern aboot ten o clock, 
 an I asked what it was a aboot. An they telt me 
 Bob had closed his bar. So I hunted up Bob and 
 asked him. 
 
 " Ye ve closed yer bar, Bob ? said I. 
 
 " Yes, said he. 
 
 " For guid and a , Bob ? said I.
 
 186 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " < Yes, said he. 
 
 " Ye re a fool, Bob, said I. 
 
 " Like enough, said he. 
 
 " Open her up again, Bob, said I. 
 
 " Never, said he. 
 
 " What made ye dae it, man ? I asked him. 
 
 " Joe Smith, an the boys, an Charlie, said he. 
 
 " < Who s Charlie ? said I. 
 
 " My boy, said he. 
 
 " Ye ll lose money, Bob, I telt him. 
 
 " Likely, said he. 
 
 " What did ye make off the bar, Bob? said I. 
 
 " Fifteen hundred, said he. 
 
 " What did ye make off yer hoose otherways ? 
 said I. 
 
 " My livin , said he. 
 
 " Nothin more ? said I. 
 
 " Not a hap orth, said he. 
 
 " Ye re a fool, Bob, said I. 
 
 " * Like enough, said he. 
 
 " " Open her up, Bob, Monday, said I. 
 
 " Never, said he. 
 
 " An then I went off to bed. Noo, friends, see 
 here : Bob s too guid a man to be let to fail. He s 
 goin to run that club, he an my countryman there, 
 Jimmie. That club ll be worth money to this toon, 
 an worth more than money too, I doot. Some one s 
 got to take care o Bob. He s made a big sacrifice for 
 principle. Who s got principle to take interest in 
 him ? I ll tell ye what I ll dae. I spend five hundred 
 a year on the cigars that I smoke, an on what I treat 
 my friends wi . Now, I ll gie that five hundred to 
 pay Bob for what he s goin to lose, if ye ll gie the 
 ither thousand. An I ll stop smokin , the day I ken
 
 THE BUMMERS CLUB 187 
 
 that ye have raised that thousand. Bob ll stop 
 drinkin , an I ll stop smokin . What do ye say ? " 
 
 Then he sat down, and, before my astonishment 
 passed, up rose Alexander Hobart. A sudden fear 
 seized me. This was the man who had threatened to 
 run me out of town. He had not succeeded, but it had 
 not been his fault. He had been my thorn in the 
 flesh all that summer. What he was about to do 
 puzzled me. " I m glad to see the pastor back," he 
 began. " I hated him last June : I meant to drive 
 him out of this town. I told Mr. Henderson so, or he 
 heard me say so. But that s all gone. I m going to 
 stand by the pastor, and I will meet Mr. Henderson s 
 offer half way. I will give another five hundred." 
 
 As he sat down, Joe began to sing, and the congre 
 gation joined : 
 
 " Amazing grace, how sweet the sound 
 
 That saved a wretch like me : 
 I ouce was lost, but now am found, 
 Was blind, but uow I see." 
 
 When the singing ended, Elder Harfis was on his 
 feet. "I will give that last five hundred," he said. 
 And then David Henderson prayed. The benediction 
 followed that, and the wonderful service was over.
 
 XVI 
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 
 
 A LETTER postmarked Duqueboro, in a very 
 illegible hand, was in my morning mail. It 
 had not been written by Henderson or Harry 
 Sinclair. It read : 
 
 "DEAK SIR: 
 
 " The Committee on Supplies of the Kir Jear 
 Presbyterian Church of Duqueboro invites you to 
 supply our pulpit on the last Sunday of November. 
 Hoping it will be possible for you to give us this 
 pleasure, I am, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " LEWIS JORDAN, Chm." 
 
 My reply went by return mail. 
 
 " Lewis Jordan, Esq., 
 
 " Duqueboro, Pa. 
 "MY DEAR SIR: 
 
 " Acknowledging your letter received this morn 
 ing, I thank you for the courtesy, but must beg leave 
 to decline. Mr. Henderson has given me to under 
 stand that your pulpit is vacant, and my presence 
 there would mean to the people that I was a candidate 
 for the vacant place. That I can never be. 
 " Yours most sincerely," 
 
 The following week came another letter from Mr. 
 Jordan. 
 
 188
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 189 
 
 "MY DEAR SIR: 
 
 " Your valued favor was duly laid before the 
 committee. I am instructed to say, It is true we 
 have no pastor, but we hear no candidates in our pul 
 pit. The people know that well. You would not be 
 looked upon in that light. A committee is away 
 every Sabbath, seeking a pastor. You are invited on 
 the suggestion of Mr. Henderson. Hoping you will 
 reconsider, I am as before, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 " LEWIS JORDAN, Chm." 
 
 To this I replied after consulting Tim Wendell. 
 " That seems all straight," he said. " Go on and have 
 a good time. I wouldn t mind going to see that old 
 Scotch duffer myself." 
 
 " See here, Tim, you mustn t call David Henderson 
 an old Scotch duffer to me. He s been too good to 
 me." 
 
 " All right, Dominie." 
 
 So I wrote to Mr. Jordan, accepting his invitation. 
 There had been no vacation for me that summer, 
 partly because of my long absence abroad, and partly 
 because Greenton was full of summer boarders. Our 
 church was well attended all summer long, and my 
 work was delightful. But when November came, a 
 very natural reaction set in, and the invitation to a 
 brief change was most welcome. 
 
 The night before my departure, Elder Harfis and 
 "Wendell were sitting with me in my study. A car 
 riage stopped before the house, and presently Hender 
 son stood unannounced before us. Ere a word of 
 greeting was spoken, he said : 
 
 " All you lack of your boon companions is the 
 blasphemer, I doot. Ye ve got the elder, and ye ve
 
 190 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 got the infidel. Are ye plannin a sermon or discussin 
 a doctrine ? " 
 
 " Neither," was my reply. " These good friends 
 have come in to pass an hour and say good-bye, ere I 
 start for Duqueboro in the morning." "We three had 
 risen when he entered, and I said, " Let s be seated, 
 friends." He shook his head. 
 
 "I wad be kennin that ye were goin to Duque 
 boro," he said. " I was on business in Saratoga and 
 I had a leetle leisure, an I came to drive ye to the 
 train. An I ve a fine span here, but there s only 
 seats for twa." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Henderson, but we re not going to 
 Duqueboro," said Wendell. " This will do us for a 
 while. And if you had four seats, I wouldn t ride 
 with you. I d be afraid you d jump, and upset the 
 carriage, as you did my canoe." 
 
 "Hoot, man. Ye jumped yersel . I didna." Then 
 there was a great laugh, in which Henderson joined, 
 though he stuck to his text as he said, " Ye did, ye 
 did, man." Then abruptly, "But where s the blas 
 phemer ? " 
 
 " Oh, you mean Mr. Smith ? " said Elder Harfis. 
 
 " Yes, that wild Joe man." 
 
 " Oh, he s not a blasphemer nor wild. He may 
 have been, but he is not now. He s married to my 
 niece, I might almost say my daughter, and he s mis 
 sion superintendent for the Presbyterian church in 
 Grandview." 
 
 " An where s Grandview ? In the mountains, I 
 doot." 
 
 " No," I answered now. " It is down the Hudson 
 River. It is an old city with a great church and a 
 fine mission plant, and my friend is doing just such
 
 work there as he did here in ray absence. You know- 
 he filled my pulpit." 
 
 " A mission, is it ? "Weel, God s grace is great, that 
 He forgives the blasphemer and puts him in a mission. 
 Ye re right, man. He s no blasphemer. But it s a 
 ne\v idea o God s power that s comin to me. I wadna 
 hae thought He could hae dune it." 
 
 " Done what ? " said I. 
 
 " Made a mission manager out o that wild New 
 Orleans man. Oh, he was scandalous. Talk aboot 
 God makin a fish swallow Jonah. That was naethin 
 to this He s dune. Yes, I ll tak it back aboot the 
 blasphemer, but I ll no tak it back aboot the infidel. 
 He s no fit company for a preacher an an elder." 
 
 " But I know an elder that fished with him all day," 
 said Tim; " was he fit company for that elder?" 
 
 " Man, there was no preacher along. I said fit 
 company for a preacher and an elder." 
 
 " But he s no infidel ; he s an elder, too," said Mr. 
 Harfis. 
 
 " Man, ye don t mean to tell me that yon unbeliever 
 is an elder?" 
 
 "Yes, he s an elder in our Greenton church." 
 
 " An has he had the hands o ordination on his head, 
 an he not believe in the deil ? " 
 
 " See here, Mr. Henderson." Tim was speaking. 
 " I have learned some things since you hooked that 
 trout and we talked by the bridge." 
 
 " Always learnin an never oomin to the knowledge 
 o the truth, I doot," said Henderson. 
 
 " Well, I ve got hold of some truth. I may as well 
 be honest. I thought that day at the bridge you were 
 one of those religious talking men that most people 
 call hypocrites. But when Joe busted Bob s bar, and
 
 192 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 you put up five hundred dollars, and then stopped 
 smoking, breaking what was probably a life-long habit 
 for no reason but to show Bob how will and consecra 
 tion could defeat appetite, I learned what God s grace 
 can do. I ve changed my mind about you. Now let s 
 allow belief in the devil to rest. I believe in God and 
 I believe in you, and I believe in both so much there s 
 no room left between God and you for any devil." 
 
 " Guid, man, guid," said Henderson. " We ll let the 
 deil rest. He must be needin one badly. But ye re 
 wrang aboot me. I had to stop smokin . How could 
 I gie up five hundred dollars, an afford the cigars too ? 
 It was necessary, I doot." Then after a pause, " So 
 the unbeliever has become an elder ? An I wad be 
 layin on ma hands too." We had been standing all 
 this time. He came up to Tim suddenly. " I wad pray ; 
 kneel doon, man ; kneel doon." What was coming no 
 one knew, but I humored his strange mood, and knelt, 
 and the others followed the example. Then Hender 
 son laid his hands on Tim s head, saying, " O Lord, 
 we dedicate the infidel to Thee. Thou disna care that 
 he has been an infidel. It hasna hurt Thee at all. 
 An it hasna hurt us, because we never agreed wi him ; 
 an it hasna hurt him, because he had too good sense to 
 believe what he said he did. An so I make him elder 
 by the layin on o hands, an I gie him the right han 
 o fellowship, an welcome him to take part wi us in 
 oor service and meenistry. Amen." 
 
 Then he turned to me and said, " I ll be at the door 
 at seven. Be a ready. Good night." And without 
 once sitting down he walked out. 
 
 ******* 
 
 When morning found Henderson and me in Duque- 
 boro after a night in the sleeper, and we went out to
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 193 
 
 his carriage which was waiting, a sentence from 
 Harry s letter received in Rome recurred to me. It 
 was about the smoke. No mortal ever saw such a 
 dingy, dirty, forlorn, badly lighted, poorly ventilated 
 railroad station as was that in Duqueboro. When we 
 emerged from its disrnalness, the whole gloom came to 
 view. It was London fog, black and impenetrable, 
 but without the sickly yellow tinge. 
 
 " And is this Duqueboro ? " I managed to say. 
 
 " What else wad it be ? Did you ever see anything 
 so fine ? " 
 
 "Well, I can t say whether it is fine or coarse," 
 was my answer. " I can t see it. Where is it ? " 
 
 " Man, it s here all aboot ye. The smoke s only oor 
 discipline. It keeps risin and risin until the midday. 
 Every day it does so. D ye ken what the Scripture 
 says, The smoke o their torment ascendeth forever ? 
 This is the smoke o oor torment." 
 
 How the driver engineered the carriage through the 
 narrow, crowded, poorly paved streets was mystery to 
 me. But he did it, and we passed into suburban 
 districts that were beautiful in spite of the smoke-laden 
 air. 
 
 Henderson s home was a revelation to me. Not 
 only was the house complete in every appointment, 
 and finished within and without with rare taste and 
 elegance, but the family that dwelt there was in all 
 respects almost ideal. The man was master, and his 
 mastery was plain at once ; but it was the mastery of 
 kindness, affection, capacity and self-control. Mrs. 
 Henderson was a beautiful woman, apparently entirely 
 schooled in her husband s moods and tenses, and it 
 might almost be said that the grammar of her action 
 was a right interpretation of his desires. Her initia-
 
 194 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 tive was inspired by him, but her outworking of it was 
 entirely on lines of her own. 
 
 There were two young people in the family. The 
 older was a daughter, Julia, a young woman of 
 twenty-two or twenty-three, not beautiful, but possess 
 ing many of the Scotch characteristics of her father. 
 She was ver} T hearty in her manner, and in conversa 
 tion the play of her face was a charm. The other 
 child was a boy of thirteen, David, Jr. He won my 
 heart at once. There was a frank openness about him 
 that was refreshing. He said what was in his mind 
 regardless of life s conventionalities, and the friend 
 ship that sprang up between him and me on that visit 
 has never been disturbed. Before the first breakfast 
 was over I felt thoroughly acquainted in that family. 
 As the meal progressed, David, Jr., brought confusion 
 to his father suddenly, and amusingly to me. In a 
 lull in the table talk, he turned abruptly to me. 
 
 " Say, you could have got here all right if daddy 
 hadn t come after you, couldn t you ?" 
 
 " Why, yes, of course. What made you think I 
 couldn t?" 
 
 " Be still, David," said the mother. " What will 
 our guest think of you ? " 
 
 " That does not disturb me, Mrs. Henderson. I know 
 boys well. I haven t forgotten that I was a boy once." 
 
 " But I didn t think you couldn t," persisted the boy. 
 "I knew any man that had been to Europe could get 
 out to Duqueboro alone. But daddy said you was 
 only a country parson, and he was afraid " 
 
 " Hush, David," said Mrs. Henderson. 
 
 " But, mamma, he did say he was afraid the parson 
 was too green to be trusted alone so far from home, 
 when you said "
 
 195 
 
 " Hoot, laddie. Ye ll make the preacher think 
 ye ve no manners. An if I should tell him I didna 
 say any sic thing, he wadna believe ye any mair, but 
 wad a ways ca ye that fibbin lad o Duqueboro." 
 
 "But, daddy, you did say so. An when mamma 
 said, if that preacher was such a big goose he could 
 not get here alone she did not want to see him, you 
 said you were afraid, anyway. An that was the 
 reason why you telegraphed Mr. Harris in Boston 
 if he could get away to go on that trip to 
 Europe." 
 
 That speech would have abashed the ordinary man, 
 but it in no way disturbed the Scotchman. " Ye ve a 
 gey memory, laddie, an ye re like your mither. Ye 
 remember some things that ye don t remember but 
 imagine, and ye don t remember some things that ye 
 do remember but willna confess, an ye re no an 
 illustration that oot o the mouth o babes has been 
 perfected praise, for it s no praise to ye to reveal 
 the secrets o the family an to bring confusion to yer 
 mither. An ye ll hold quiet now while the preacher 
 eats his breakfast, I doot." 
 
 " Oh, let the boy talk," I said. " He enlightens me. 
 He makes me know that one person believes me 
 capable of looking out for myself." 
 
 "That s what I do," said the boy, and then went at 
 his breakfast with a will. 
 
 "How long have you known my cousin, Mr. 
 Henderson ? " 
 
 " Your cousin ? How wad I know your cousin, 
 man ? " 
 
 " I don t know how. But you evidently do. David 
 here says you telegraphed for him to sail with me on 
 The Westernland."
 
 196 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Mr. Harris, you mean ? Is Mr. Harris yer cousin, 
 then?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " An how wad I be knowin that ? But he s gey 
 fine, that Harris. I met him at Interlaken in a hotel 
 filled with heathen. He was the only Christian there, 
 an he didna know what releegion was. But I telt 
 him. We traveled thegither, an we cam hame 
 thegither. We ve corresponded ever since." 
 
 "Did you know Joe Smith was a salesman for his 
 firm?" 
 
 " No, I wadna be knowin that. It s not so, I 
 doot." 
 
 " Yes, it is so, or it was so until Joe began to 
 preach." 
 
 "That s a fine thing ye did, convertin that wild 
 blasphemer," he said, and he steered the conversation 
 away from Mr. Harris and the breakers on which 
 young David had cast him. 
 
 At family prayers he brought out the Bible I had 
 first seen in his hand in the train. " Do you mind 
 the buik ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, that s an old friend," I answered, " if that is 
 the book you had in the train." 
 
 " Of coorse. What ither buik wad I be bringin ? " 
 
 " Are you going to start another discussion about 
 religion ? " I asked. 
 
 " Man, man, ye re hopeless ! Wad I be discussin 
 wi ye, and puttin ye to shame, an ye a guest in ma 
 ain hoose? Na, na. I brought the buik to mak 
 ye mindfu o the strange way in which God leads us 
 a ." And then he read the One Hundred and Third 
 Psalm, and as he ended said, " Now let us a repeat 
 the Twenty-third Psalm." When that was finished,
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 197 
 
 he continued, " That s it, lad. He was yer Shepherd 
 yon day in the train. He led ye to the seat in the car 
 by me. It was His hand that opened my buik, I doot. 
 An a the rest has been His leadin . It was God s good 
 ness and mercy. There s no chances wi God. Now 
 ye ll pray and then David must gang awa to 
 school." 
 
 That night after dinner Henderson took me to his 
 own office. He pushed a box of cigars across the 
 table, saying, " Ye smoke sometimes, I ken. Tis a bad 
 habit, a vera bad habit. I ve gi en it up, ye ken. 
 There s no Scripture against gie n it up. The Scrip 
 ture says, the smokin flax shall ye na quench, but 
 it doesna say the smokin tobacco ye shall na quench ; 
 so I ve gi en it up. But yon box contains some vera 
 good aids to the bad habit. Ye ll tak one, I doot." 
 
 Just after my cigar was lighted, the butler entered 
 with Harry Sinclair s card. " Bring him here," was 
 Henderson s order. So in he came. More than three 
 years had flown since we had looked into each other s 
 faces. He was much stouter than at St. David s. His 
 face was quite ruddy, his head fast growing bald. 
 There was about him the appearance of one well satis 
 fied with good living and with himself. His tongue, 
 however, ran just as had been its wont. While he 
 talked, he smoked. His first cigar was done, and 
 another lighted, before mine was half finished. After 
 much general conversation, he suddenly accosted me 
 on a more personal matter. 
 
 " Old boy," he exclaimed, " why don t you get mar 
 ried ? You look as if you wanted care. Oh, no : 
 don t look at your clothes; they re all right. But 
 your face doesn t sparkle as it used to ; you look one 
 sided, half-done, I don t know what all."
 
 198 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Before it was possible for me to answer, Henderson 
 took up the theme. 
 
 "Harry Sinclair, you let him an his marry in alone. 
 All he is, I ve made him, an some o these days, when 
 I get ready, I m goin to get him married. He ll tell 
 ye he is dead in love wi a lass he saw at your wed- 
 din ." I started guiltily. " But it s na so," he con 
 tinued. " He never saw her but once in his life, an 
 that was three years syne. But you let him alone. I ve 
 other plans for him. Do you hear, Harry Sinclair ? 
 You let him alone." 
 
 " Yes, I ll let him alone. I can t do anything else. 
 I ve no chance. Neither have you. But as for his 
 falling in love with a girl at my wedding, that s all 
 gammon. There was only one girl at my wedding 
 that would have attracted him at all, and he didn t 
 look at her twice, nor she at him. When Phyllis found 
 you were going to have the old boy for your guest, she 
 wrote to that girl, asking her here to visit, and told 
 her the best man would be in town for a visit. Phyl 
 lis wants to get them together again. But the girl had 
 other engagements." 
 
 Then I said a little prayer of thanksgiving for my 
 deliverance, and yet I did wish she had accepted. 
 
 "I tell ye, Harry," insisted Henderson, " you and 
 Phyllis must leave that marriage business alone, or 
 ye ll keep him an old bachelor a his days. Old bach 
 elors are nuisances. There s na place for them in this 
 world or the next, I doot. What the Scriptures think 
 aboot old bachelors is made plain i the record o the 
 Flood. God drooned every one o them. Na one o 
 them went into the Ark." 
 
 In the laugh that followed, I seized my opportunity 
 to speak.
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 199 
 
 " You talk as if you were kings or emperors, and I 
 was your subject," I said, " and you could marry me 
 when you pleased, and to whom you pleased. But 
 you re vastly mistaken. There s only one woman liv 
 ing whom I would marry. She doesn t care for me. 
 She never thinks of me. Mr. Henderson says I never 
 saw her but once. It makes no difference to either of 
 you who she is, and I won t tell. But I ve seen her 
 six different times, six times too many and I ll never 
 see her again. Now let s drop the marrying business," 
 I begged. 
 
 Harry told me about Phyllis ; also about the baby, 
 a boy, named Wayne Sinclair. He was enthusiastic, 
 too, about his parish. To see his intense interest was 
 delightful. All at once, he said, " I tell you what, * the 
 Church is the only institution in. the world for a man 
 to work in. You ought to be in the Church, old 
 boy." 
 
 Before I could answer, Henderson was on his feet, 
 towering over Harry. 
 
 " Hoot, Harry Sinclair," he cried, " wi your the 
 Church an your institutions. I kent ye when ye was 
 a wee bairn. What do ye ken aboot the Church ? 
 Isna he in the Church, and am I no in the Church ? 
 What d ye mean by ought to be in " the Church " ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Henderson, you know history," an 
 swered Harry, in nowise daunted. " You know Jesus 
 founded the true Church. You know Paul organized 
 the Church of Jesus Christ in theTBritish Isles. You 
 know how Rome became corrupt, and how the Pauline 
 Church of England was kept pure. You know how 
 all the sects of to-day came only from dissenters, who 
 were too carnal and worldly to submit to the holy rule 
 of the mother Church. The Presbyterians arose from
 
 200 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 some wicked English Roundheads who murdered the 
 Lord s Anointed, and " 
 
 But he got no further. The Scotch Presbyterian, 
 with the blood of the Covenanters in his veins, burst 
 out : 
 
 " Man ! Harry ! I kent ye when ye were a wee 
 bairn, an ye come tellin me the old lees aboot St. 
 Paul and corruption ? Ye re a Papist. Your church 
 is a Henry the Eighth Papistical church. I wonder ye 
 hav na six wives yerseP ! Mither Church ! Hoot ! 
 Roundheads ! Hoot, hoot ! yer church is a rebellious 
 child o the Scarlet Woman. An Roundheads ! 
 John Knox, an John Calvin, an John Huss! 
 Roundheads, are they ? Hoot ! I ve shame o ye, 
 Harry : for I kent ye when ye were a wee bairn." He 
 stopped for breath. 
 
 The outburst filled me with fear lest Harry should 
 take it in high dudgeon. Instead, he laughed and 
 laughed, until, holding his sides and with tears rolling 
 down his cheeks, he rose and extended his hand to Mr. 
 Henderson. " I d give one hundred dollars," he said, 
 " to have you in my vestry. If you only belonged to 
 the Church, how you would champion her cause. 
 I ve not been so delighted since I came to Duqueboro. 
 There s not a man out at The Redeemer who can 
 stand for his religion like that. You re a wonderful 
 man, Mr. Henderson," he finished ; " tisn t strange my 
 father and you were friends." 
 
 Henderson looked hard at him a moment. " Lad, 
 lad," he said sorrowfully, " were ye playin wi the old 
 man ? Did ye speir that nonsense as an experiment ? 
 Was ye tryin to get me started on a discussion ? " 
 
 Sinclair laughed again, long and heartily. 
 Henderson kept on. " Your father and I were
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 201 
 
 friends. Ye say it wasna strange. I say it too. 
 I saved him a hundred thousand dollars in a law 
 suit. He was an Episcopalian, an yet I did that for 
 him. The man who tried to cheat him out o his 
 property was an Episcopalian too, an he d ha dune 
 it but for me. But I ve never had to save a hundred 
 thousand dollars for a Presbyterian because another 
 Presbyterian was tryin to cheat him. Presbyterians 
 don t cheat each other if they can help it." 
 
 By this time Harry and I had become so boisterous 
 in our mirth that Mrs. Henderson came to the office 
 door. "What s the cause of the merriment? "she asked. 
 " Is the new guest a wit ? " 
 
 " No, madam," I replied, " Mr. Henderson is the wit. 
 He and Mr. Sinclair have been having a little discussion 
 about religion." 
 
 " Well," said Harry, " it s time I said good-night. I 
 must get back to Phyllis and the baby. Good-night, 
 Mrs. Henderson ; good-night, old chum ; good-night, 
 Sir Knight David Henderson, Defender of the Faith 
 once delivered to the saints Presbyterian saints," and 
 away he went. 
 
 With Harry s departure, we adjourned from the 
 office to the library, where David, Jr., was studying. 
 Looking up from his book, he announced, "There s an 
 after-season football game to-morrow, between Duque- 
 boro and Lanborne. Wouldn t you like to go ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " but you ll be in school." 
 
 " Oh, no," he replied. " School s over for the day at 
 two o clock. I can take you all right. We ll have 
 the carriage over. But perhaps you ll have to 
 help me with my Latin after we come home. Will 
 you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, of course I will," was my answer, for I
 
 202 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 wanted to go, and I liked the boy. " But why don t 
 you get the Latin before you go ? " 
 
 " Oh, we can t, don t you know ? There won t be 
 time after school, before the game." 
 
 " Well, David, wouldn t it be nice if you had it every 
 bit before you went ? " 
 
 " Why, of course, but " 
 
 " Well, we ll do it. We ll do it now. We ll read 
 the translation now, and we ll talk over the syntax as 
 we drive to the game." 
 
 So I sat down with David, Jr., and we went through 
 all the " Ca3sar" he was likely to have for two days. It 
 was bedtime when that was done. As we were about 
 to say good-night, he said in true boy fashion : 
 
 " Say ! I like you tip-top. You know a lot of 
 Latin. How d you learn it so s not to forget it?" 
 
 " AVhy, that s easy," I returned. " I keep in practice. 
 Mr. Wendell and I often spend evenings together 
 reading Latin. Your father knows Mr. Wendell." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he s the man that tipped my father out of 
 the boat when he caught the big trout. But say ! I 
 like you a lot better than I do Felix. He can t read 
 Latin like you." 
 
 " Now, David, who s Felix ? " I asked. " You see I 
 don t know your school friends by name as you do." 
 
 " School friends ? What you giving us ? " He 
 fairly roared with delight. " There isn t a boy at 
 school named Felix. I mean Julia s steady." 
 
 " What ? " I exclaimed. " What s a steady ? And 
 what s Julia s steady s other name ? " 
 
 " Why, Ardman," he answered, ignoring my first 
 question. " Don t you know Felix Ardman ? He s 
 Major Ardman s son. Major Ardman s my father s 
 best friend. He lives up at the top of this avenue."
 
 I VISIT DUQUEBORO 203 
 
 " I m much obliged, David," I said ; " I ve got hold 
 of all that. Now, what s a steady ? " 
 
 " Oh, you re fresh," he said. " You know a lot of 
 Latin, but you re fresh. And a steady ? Why, a 
 steady s a fellow that comes to see a girl every night. 
 He s in the parlor now with Julia. They re going 
 to be married next spring, after Easter." 
 
 With that David, Jr., started for bed, and I followed. 
 My host went with me to my room. 
 
 " Ye must be unco weary," he said. " Between my 
 boy an Sinclair we have kept ye up too late. Harry 
 smoked too long an talked too much nonsense. He s 
 livin too high, I doot. Did ye see his face ? Port 
 in the one cheek, sherry in the other. They re a pair 
 o killers," he went on, as he stood in the doorway. 
 " A little Scotch whiskey once in a while, juist a wee 
 drap, ye ken, is good for the complexion. But don t ye 
 listen to his blandishments about lasses. I ll take care 
 o ye. There s lots o lasses ye never saw. I ken one 
 oh, I ken one. When ye see her " 
 
 " Yes, when I see her," I laughed. " I begin to 
 think you are like a boy I used to play with, who was 
 always going to have a new kite, or a new sled, or a 
 new fish-pole. He could tell just how they looked, 
 and what they cost, and he was going to have them 
 when his father came home from Troy, or when 
 his father had sold his pigs. But he never had 
 them." 
 
 " Hoot, lad ! d ye think I m like yon lad ? " he 
 remonstrated. " Do I luik like a man that luiks like 
 a lad ? D ye ever hear me talk with nothin to talk 
 aboot, like a lad ? Maybe ye think there s nae sic a 
 lass ? Is that it ? Losh, man ! d ye think old David s 
 maybe leein a little ? "
 
 204 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " No, I don t quite think that," I replied ; " I think 
 there are plenty of girls that " 
 
 " No sic a thing, man," he interrupted. " There s 
 only one. She s the most beautiful woman I ever 
 saw, an ye ken I ve seen a guid many women in ma 
 day." 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? Most beautiful is a 
 pretty strong expression. Isn t there a little Scotch 
 exaggeration " 
 
 " Exaggeration ? " he burst out. " Exaggeration ! 
 Me, the most releegious man in a Duqueboro ? Ex 
 aggeration ? Me, the best elder in Kir Jear Presby 
 terian Kirk ? Exaggeration ? Losh, man ! I never 
 exaggerate. Do I luik like a man that exaggerates ? 
 Why, exaggeration is leein , man, an no Scotchman 
 lees when he doesna want to." 
 
 I managed to say through my laughter, " Well, 
 don t let a little thing like that cut you up so. That 
 was only a bit of fun, you know." 
 
 "Fun?" indignantly. " Is it that ye ca it ? To 
 say Scotch exaggeration to an elder is fun, is it ? 
 Oh, man, ye re ma guest, or I d argue wi ye. But 
 honest, noo," and there was a rich twinkle in his eye, 
 " there s none like her. My own lass is fine, but I 
 never thought o her for ye. But this one ! oh, man, 
 this one ! ye ll say so yersel . An ye ll no tell me, 
 after ye see her, anything aboot Scotch exaggera 
 tion. Good-night, now good-night," with a hearty 
 grip of my hand. "Don t mind the butler in the 
 mornin . Don t shoot him for a burglar." And away 
 he went.
 
 XVII 
 
 I LEARN MORE ABOUT LEWIS JORDAN 
 
 ON Saturday morning my host said, "Man, 
 ye ll be preparin the sermon the day, an I ll 
 be gaein to the city. Ye ll have no disturb 
 ance. If the lad comes haverin round, pack him off. 
 I m awa noo." 
 
 An hour after, I started for a stroll, and passed Julia 
 Henderson on the porch. She stopped me by say 
 ing: 
 
 " Do you know where Grandview is ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied. 
 
 " Is it on your route homeward? " 
 
 " "Well, almost. I pass it. It is on the opposite 
 side of the Hudson, you know." 
 
 " Would it trouble you very much to be my escort 
 there when you go home ? " 
 
 " Nothing would give me greater pleasure," was my 
 answer. 
 
 She had letters in her hands, and the thought came 
 to me that something in those letters had prompted 
 her question. The coincidence of her visiting Grand- 
 view, and of Joe s being in the same city struck me 
 oddly, but I passed it off as one of those constantly 
 occurring accidental things, and went for my stroll. 
 
 That night at dinner Julia said, " Daddy, may I go 
 to Grandview ? Our guest says he will be my escort." 
 
 " For why wad ye be goin to Grandview ? " was the 
 answer. 
 
 205
 
 206 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " I had a letter from Alice this morning, and she 
 wants me to visit her before I am married." 
 
 " Alice ? " I said. " Pardon me, Miss Henderson, 
 but may I ask what Alice ? " 
 
 " Why, yes : why not ? Alice Alcorn, my school 
 friend at Dow s Crossing." 
 
 " Lass, ye canna go, I doot. The preacher canna be 
 bothered wi sic baggage as a girl like you." 
 
 " Oh, I ll be glad to have her for company, Mr. 
 Henderson," I said. 
 
 So it was arranged that I should remain longer than 
 I had intended, so that Julia might prepare for her 
 journey. On Monday I wrote to Joe that I would 
 spend the next Sunday in Grandview. By return 
 mail came a letter from him, asking me to be his guest 
 while there. He did not happen to be acquainted with 
 Miss Alcorn, but that need make no difference. He 
 would be delighted to see me. And if he did not 
 know Miss Alcorn, he did know a girl who was a 
 teacher in his mission, who was the loveliest girl he 
 had ever seen, and Helen said she was just the girl for 
 a wife for me. 
 
 I showed the letter to Henderson, who growled 
 out, " I want that Joe Smith and his Helen to let ye 
 alone wi their loveliest girls. Ye re goin to marry 
 the girl I telt ye aboot. An as for stayin at Joe 
 Smith s an sleepin in a missionary s bed, ye re goin 
 to do nae sic thing. Ye ll stay at the Balustrade. 
 I ve engaged yer rooms a ready, an " 
 
 "But, Mr. Henderson, what do you know about 
 the Balustrade ? You did not know where Grand- 
 view was a week ago, and you asked if it was not in 
 the mountains." 
 
 " Man, I did not ask if it was not in the mountains.
 
 I LEARN MOKE ABOUT LEWIS JORDAN 207 
 
 I said it is in the mountains, I doot. That is no 
 askin a question. An besides, I saw a man, the day, 
 who knows all aboot Grandview. The Balustrade s 
 the best place in Grandview." So answer went back 
 to Joe, telling him of Henderson s action, but assuring 
 him I would spend all the time with him that was 
 possible. 
 
 Sunday was a delightful day and the Kir Jear 
 Church was well filled. Mr. Lewis Jordan had not 
 called upon me, which I thought strange. At the 
 church door Mr. Henderson introduced me to several 
 men, and of them Mr. Jordan was one. His face 
 seemed familiar, but I could not recall what made it 
 so. I was well into my discourse when my eyes met 
 those of Lewis Jordan, with a look that brought the 
 man before me exactly as I had seen him about six 
 weeks before in Greenton Church. That look almost 
 cost me the rest of my sermon. I realized that I was 
 trapped. That committee that was out every Sabbath 
 hunting for a pastor had been in my own church, and 
 had followed up the visit with the correspondence. 
 There was no use in being angry. I had been out 
 witted by Mr. Lewis Jordan, that was all. 
 
 There was silence between Henderson and me as we 
 walked homeward, until just before reaching his 
 house. It gave me abundant time to grow indignant 
 at the trick that had been played upon me, and when 
 my host began, <k Ye was flurried the day. Ye was 
 rattled, I doot. Did ye forget what ye had com 
 mitted to memory, man ? " I blazed out, " I commit 
 nothing to memory. I speak from my heart, as the 
 hour demands. But I was amazed, Mr. Henderson, 
 that anyone calling himself a Christian should be 
 guilty of such arts as Lewis Jordan played me with."
 
 208 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Lewis Jordan knows nothin aboot arts ; he s a 
 lawyer." 
 
 " That will not do, Mr. Henderson. He wrote me 
 I would not be considered a candidate ; said com 
 mittees were away hearing candidates every Sabbath, 
 and " 
 
 " Losh, man ! is that what ye ca arts? That s the 
 verra truth." 
 
 " That will not do, I say again. Lewis Jordan and 
 his committee were in my church six weeks ago. 
 And " 
 
 " Man, man ! it s nae arts to go to church on the 
 Sabbath day. That s Scripture. Forsake not the 
 assemblin o yourselves thegither, says Scripture." 
 
 " Mr. Henderson, this is too bad. You only evade. 
 Lewis Jordan and his committee heard me preach, 
 and they came home to you and reported they had 
 found a man, and the church said bring him here and 
 let us hear him. He deceived me. And you knew it 
 all and never told me." 
 
 "An how could I tell ye? The voice o the 
 congregation said let him come, an who was I to 
 oppose ? Doesna the Scripture say, the voice o the 
 people is the voice o God ? " 
 
 " No, the Scripture does not say that. But I give 
 you up. You are incorrigible." 
 
 When the evening service ended, to my surprise 
 the people came down the aisles to shake hands with 
 the preacher. As many as fifty spoke most kindly 
 and thanked me for the messages of the day. Major 
 Ardman introduced them by name, and gave me a 
 most delightful feeling of having one good strong 
 friend. Lewis Jordan did not appear. The Major 
 and Henderson walked with me down to the Hender-
 
 I LEARN MORE ABOUT LEWIS JORDAN 209 
 
 son home. It was the Scotchman who spoke. " It s 
 a peety, lad, you don t know mair doctrine an less 
 science. It s a peety ye ha ena mair releegion an 
 less activity. Ye were nigh bein a pounder the night, 
 forbye bein expounder." 
 
 " David, that s too bad. That was a fine sermon 
 to-night." 
 
 " Aye, Geordie, I know. But doesna the Scripture 
 say, Woe unto ye when a men speak well o ye ? 
 An a were speakin well the night. I wad keep the 
 woe awa ." I laughed. I could not help it. He 
 was droll. But I answered, " Mr. Henderson, I d 
 like mighty well to know just all you mean and all 
 you don t mean by your badinage. But I m weary, 
 too weary to discuss. The strange surroundings, the 
 big church, the throng of people, and Jordan s trick 
 have been too much for me." 
 
 " All right, man," he answered, " ye shall go to bed 
 directly." 
 
 But that privilege was denied me. The tramp of 
 feet behind made me aware that people were follow 
 ing. They turned in at Henderson s gate, after us. 
 There were seven of them, Lewis Jordan being one of 
 the number. They followed us into the house. That 
 meant that I must be kept up for some time still, and 
 I said to myself if the occasion comes I will get some 
 satisfaction out of Mr. Lewis Jordan for the part he 
 has had in this business. 
 
 He himself furnished the opportunity. Taking a 
 seat by me, after a few minutes of general conversa 
 tion, he said, " I suppose you are aware why we are 
 here." 
 
 " Probably to juggle with me some more," I said 
 with some feeling.
 
 210 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 He looked surprised, as did the rest of the company. 
 
 " I do not quite understand," he said. 
 
 " You should," I replied. " When I caught your 
 eye in the service this morning, when my sermon 
 came to an abrupt stop for a brief interval, I had just 
 recognized you as a man who had been in my church 
 one Sunday six weeks ago, and you saw that I had 
 recognized you." 
 
 " Well, yes, I confess. I was in your church. But 
 is going to your church juggling with you ? " 
 
 " Your correspondence contained the juggling. You 
 have brought me here because the congregation wanted 
 to hear me before they acted on your report. You 
 gave me to understand a committee would be out to 
 day hunting a preacher. No committee has been out 
 to-day." 
 
 " Jordan, he has you caught," said a man. 
 
 " Yes, caught," I replied. " He laid the trap, 
 played the trick, took me in, deceived me. The only 
 satisfaction I have is in being able to tell him how 
 completely I understand the game." 
 
 " Now, my dear sir," Jordan began, " you mustn t 
 be too hard on us. Perhaps I did not do right, but 
 our pulpit has been vacant for a year, and the com 
 mittee thought it had found the man we wanted, and 
 we were sure the congregation would be pleased to 
 hear you. But about telling the people and about 
 their asking to hear you, well, allow that that s so. 
 We told the people you weren t coming as a candidate, 
 that you d refused to be a candidate, and neither you 
 nor they were prejudiced." I interrupted him before 
 he could go further. 
 
 "Mr. Jordan, you have relieved the situation in a 
 measure. But had you written to me frankly, a com-
 
 I LEARN MOKE ABOUL LEWIS JORDAN 211 
 
 mittee from our church has heard you preach, and will 
 report to the congregation in favor of calling you, 
 and- 
 
 " That s it, that s it," he said : " that s just it ; and 
 now, if we will make out a call for you as our pastor, 
 will you accept it ? That is what we are here to 
 learn." 
 
 In that moment the lawyer thought he had turned 
 the tables on me. For the instant I was nonplused. 
 Then I began to think. To say " yes " would be to 
 give myself utterly away. To say " no " meant the 
 end of the whole episode, and for that I was not ready. 
 The room was very quiet. All at once a voice said, 
 " Silence gives consent." That brought the critical 
 moment, and the words rushed past my lips, " Oh, no, 
 no, no, no, I consent to nothing." 
 
 " Man, Dominie ! " that of course was Henderson. 
 "D ye mean to say ye willna consent to consider 
 a ca ? " 
 
 " I do not mean to say I will consent to consider, 
 and I do not mean to say I will not," I answered. 
 
 Once more Mr. Jordan spoke. " My dear sir," he 
 said, " there were large congregations in church this 
 morning and to-night, and the voice is well-nigh unan 
 imous. That man is the preacher that we want, they 
 say. Mr. Henderson went about saying you had not 
 religion enough, but we all know that was his way of 
 hastening people to decide. So once more I ask you 
 the frank question for us all here, will you accept a 
 call if we make one ? " 
 
 Driven to bay, I answered doggedly and with a 
 feeling that the answer would end the whole matter 
 at once : 
 
 " Well, make it and find out."
 
 212 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked Mr. Jordan, 
 as before. 
 
 " I mean what the words mean. It isn t fair for 
 you to ask me, a stranger, to commit myself that I 
 will or will not accept a call, when you commit your 
 selves to nothing. You promise me here that you ll 
 make me a call to become pastor of this church, and 
 I ll promise to answer before I go home whether or 
 not I ll accept." 
 
 Jordan replied, as I expected he would, " Well, but 
 we cannot promise what the congregation will do, for 
 we don t know." 
 
 " Good ! " said I. " I cannot promise that I will 
 accept your call or refuse it, for I don t know. I 
 haven t heard from myself yet." 
 
 The little company evidently considered that final. 
 One by one they rose, said courteous things in saying 
 good-night, and departed. When the last one had 
 gone, Henderson looked at me a moment, and then 
 burst into a great laugh. " Ye floored him, I doot, 
 that Jordan. He came back frae Green ton and said 
 ye were easy ; said he d get ye here and commit ye 
 wi out committin the congregation ; said Greenton 
 was only a country place and ye d run to come." And 
 he laughed again a hearty laugh. All at once his 
 mood changed. " Come wi me," he said. He led the 
 way to his own office, and, giving me a cigar, said, 
 " Sit doon, lad, smoke that, then go to bed. I don t 
 know who s the bigger idiot, yourseP or Jordan." 
 
 While I smoked, thought was busy. The manipula 
 tion of the recent events in my life was the work of 
 this man, who grew more and more dear to me, but 
 whose ways were like those of " The Heathen Chinee." 
 Matters took form in my mind directly, and to act at
 
 I LEARN MORE ABOUT LEWIS JORDAN 213 
 
 once seemed \visest. Henderson was writing. " May 
 I interrupt you ?" I said. 
 
 He laid down his pen. " I am all attention, my 
 friend. What is it ? " 
 
 " What is the difference, Mr. Henderson, between 
 indirection and deception ? " 
 
 " Ye ask me as a theologian, I doot ? " 
 
 " No, I ask for myself as a plain common-sense man, 
 and I do not ask you as a lawyer, but as the same sort 
 of a man." 
 
 " An what wad be makin ye ask such a ques 
 tion ? " 
 
 " The fact that I have suffered from indirection, and 
 the belief that I have been deceived." 
 
 " That s what I ll be tellin Jordan when my time 
 comes. Jordan put his foot in it, ye ken." 
 
 " I was not thinking of Lewis Jordan," I said. 
 
 " Ye wasna ? Was ye thinkin o Wendell ? Has 
 he ever deceived ye ? " 
 
 " Never. He is as direct and straight and true as 
 a sunbeam. I was thinking of you, Mr. Henderson." 
 
 "Now hear him! O me? An ye wad be sayin 
 that I was indirect, I doot ? " 
 
 " Yes, that was my thought." 
 
 " Me indirect ? Do I luik like a man who would be 
 indirect, when straight-ahead directness would serve 
 him better ? " 
 
 " No, but that never seems to serve you better. It 
 was all well enough to invite me to be your guest. It 
 did no harm to say you were in Saratoga on business. 
 The business was to come after me. That harmed no 
 one. But you knew all about this Jordan business. 
 You knew the committee had visited Greenton. 
 You knew your whole purpose was to get me before
 
 214 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 your congregation. You worked by indirectness all 
 through, and you. deceived me. Did you not ? " 
 
 " Man, it depends upon the point o view. I didna 
 know what Jordan wrote to ye. I didna know what 
 you wrote to Jordan. I was knowin that ye was 
 sensitive and stubborn. An I know Jordan was no 
 angler. So I told him aboot the bumblebee and 
 darning-needle, but I think he must hae cast wi worms 
 for bait." 
 
 " There you are again," I said. " Indirect once 
 more. You put up that whole job, Mr. Henderson." 
 
 " Put up the job ? Wad ye ca me a carpenter ? 
 I did naethin . I said, Jordan, I won t interfere wi 
 your work. But I know a man who can preach, but ye 
 canna get him. There ll be nae use goin to hear him. 
 Ye canna get him. When he asked me who the man 
 was, I telt him, o course. But I said, Don t go 
 there, ye canna get him. An he surprised me when 
 he telt me ye was comin ." 
 
 To laugh was all that was left to me. He had 
 beaten me off from ground of my own choosing, and 
 that too by the same indirection. 
 
 " Ye laugh, man ! Ye do na weel. I m yer friend." 
 
 " Yes, I know you are ; you ve proved that. But 
 there s one consolation : Jordan will drop me. He ll 
 tell the people I m a crank, and that he s changed his 
 mind." 
 
 " Maybe, maybe, but I ll tell every one how ye 
 routed Jordan ; an I ll say Jordan s advice to drop ye 
 is good, for it ll save us a from mortification, because 
 ye resent Jordan so, ye wadna accept if we ca d ye. 
 See ? " 
 
 And I saw that the Scotchman was hopeless, and I 
 went to bed.
 
 XVIII 
 RED HEADLINES 
 
 HARRY SINCLAIR S invitation to spend 
 Wednesday with him was most welcome. 
 Henderson wanted me to lead the midweek 
 prayer-meeting, but to face the congregation seemed 
 impossible after the Jordan episode. Henderson was 
 in his house office when I returned next morning, and 
 sent for me. He was direct enough now. "People 
 were disappointed no to see ye the night. I telt them 
 that ye was awa with the Henry the Eighth Papist." 
 
 " What people ? " I asked. " Not to see me 
 where ? " 
 
 " Oh, hush, man, wi your questions ! Ye ken what 
 people, an where. Our church people, of course, an 
 at prayer-meetin . The place was packed." 
 
 " It ll do them good to want what they can t get," 
 was my reply. I was feeling a little independent, as 
 the result of the day with Harry. 
 
 " There s a letter for ye. It s from Grandview, from 
 the blasphemer, I doot." It was Joe s reply to my let 
 ter saying I would be at the Balustrade, and ran thus : 
 
 "DEAK OLD BOY : 
 
 " Go to the Balustrade. That s all right. But 
 we ll have you at the house for a meal or two. 
 
 " I wrote Elder Harfis you would be here, and he 
 telegraphed that he would come down. We ll have a 
 grand time. I suppose you will want to go to some 
 church in the morning, but you must come to the mis 
 sion in the afternoon and talk to my flock. Then say, 
 old chap, I ll show you the loveliest girl on the globe. 
 
 215
 
 216 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 You ve just got to get married. Helen says the 
 Greenton people are talking about it. They want a 
 pastor s wife. Helen says our girl is just the one for 
 you and for Greenton. She s one of the teachers in 
 the mission. She don t care for men. Helen never 
 dares to talk with her about men in the husband way. 
 She tried once, but our girl said, Please don t talk 
 about men to me, Mrs. Smith. It will spoil our friend 
 ship. There is too much else to talk about that is 
 worth while. Helen says she s in love with some one 
 now, but I don t believe it. When you get here, go in 
 and win her. 
 
 " Well, good-bye. I ll look for you Saturday night. 
 " Ever in the Old Bonds, 
 " JOE." 
 
 That letter made me laugh aloud, and the noise 
 roused Henderson, who looked up from his desk to ask, 
 " What are ye laughin at ? Is your letter funny ? " 
 
 I tossed it over to him, saying, " The letter is not as 
 funny as you men. Each of you is going to marry me 
 to a girl he knows. Sinclair has a girl to whom he 
 means to have me married. The girl about whom you 
 talk so much is probably a creation of your fancy. 
 Now, old Joe has a girl, and he wants to marry me to 
 her. I might as well move to Utah." 
 
 Henderson had read the letter by this time. With 
 one of his Scotch sniffs, he said : 
 
 " Joe Smith canna palm off any city mission girls on 
 ye. When I get ready, I ve got the girl for ye." 
 
 " Keady, Mr. Henderson," I broke in, " ready ? I m 
 getting old. How many more years do you want for 
 getting ready ? " 
 
 " Oh, hoot, man ! Ye re only a youngster," he said. 
 "Ye don t know enough to get married. But ye shall 
 have that girl, an she shall have you. Did ye ever
 
 RED HEADLINES 217 
 
 know a Scotchman to make up his mind to anything 
 an miss ? Do I luik like a man that misses what he s 
 sure he has in his hand ? " 
 
 That day was the last of my delightful stay in 
 Duqueboro. Julia Henderson was ready to start on 
 the morrow for her visit to Miss Alcorn. The evening 
 was the most memorable of the whole week. The 
 Presbyterian Social Union met, and Henderson had 
 Harry Sinclair and me as his guests. Henderson was 
 the last of three scheduled speakers after a very fine 
 banquet had been enjoyed. None of the addresses 
 were of particular account, but as Henderson, whose 
 subject was " Our Pastor," closed he said, " I have wi 
 me as guests, the night, two specimens of our pastor. 
 One is Dr. Sinclair. Ye ken him weel, as both boy 
 among ye lang syne, and man now. I ll no be callin 
 on him for a speech. But ma ither guest has a story 
 to tell which is worth while, an I think, Mr. Presi 
 dent, ye wad honor yersel by ca in on him." 
 
 Of course, the president asked me to speak. There 
 was no escape. I rose, told the " no benediction " 
 story, all that led to it, including Henderson s cold 
 bath, all that followed, and, after it, thanked them 
 for a very pleasant evening. As the company was 
 dispersing several gentlemen spoke with me, asking 
 questions about the revival. Presently Henderson 
 approached. " It s an early start ye must make, man. 
 I wad be bavin ye to bed. Good-night, gentlemen," 
 and he hurried me away. 
 
 The Pullman car was full. Julia and I were hardly 
 in our seats when Felix Ardman appeared. It did not 
 seem that the girl was surprised when he announced
 
 218 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 a business trip would take him one hundred miles east. 
 To surrender my chair to him was the work of a 
 moment. It gave me the opportunity to sit in the 
 comfortable compartment for smokers, where undis 
 turbed it would be possible to think over the past 
 delightful days. 
 
 There were two commercial travelers in the com 
 partment, and no other passengers ; but they were in 
 somewhat noisy and hilarious conversation. Not to 
 overhear them was impossible, although the presence 
 of a stranger quieted them a little. They were dis 
 cussing the morning paper, and recollection came to 
 me that a copy had not been at my place at breakfast, 
 as on every preceding morning. 
 
 " Yes," one said to the other, " old Davie made it 
 red-hot. He couldn t boss the last preacher they had, 
 and he took it out on the whole profession last night." 
 
 " Pity some of them couldn t have been there to 
 hear," was the reply. 
 
 " Oh, there were two there," resumed the first 
 speaker. " Old Davie had with him a preacher guest 
 from the East somewhere, and Dr. Sinclair, of The 
 Redeemer, too." 
 
 " Yes, I read so much in the Clarion. But they 
 don t count. The stranger wouldn t catch on at all, 
 and Dr. Sinclair s another sort. It s the whole stupid 
 old preacher gang that should have been there." 
 
 "I m not so sure about the stranger s not taking 
 it," was the answer. " They say he s quick-witted. 
 Folks around town are talking about how he doubled 
 up Squire Jordan last Sunday night. Anyway, 
 Kir Jear Church will call him for its pastor, and old 
 Davie was dosing him in that speech. He means to 
 run him when he comes here to live."
 
 RED HEADLINES 219 
 
 " How do you know so much ? " said the second man. 
 
 " Oh, Ardman told me. You know Felix, don t 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes. But say ! Felix has struck ten. Did you 
 know it?" 
 
 " Struck ten ? How ? " 
 
 " Why, he s going to marry old Davie s daughter. 
 That s money, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I expect she s the handsomest girl, if you 
 measure beauty by bank account, that there is in 
 Duqueboro." 
 
 " Yes, that s so. Felix 11 have a million by and 
 by, and I m glad. He s pretty good a little stiff, 
 but he s a good railroader." 
 
 " Did you hear about the speech the eastern 
 preacher made after old Davie had finished ? The 
 paper says it was a corker." 
 
 I did not wait to hear the answer, but started 
 through the train to find a newsboy. Having secured 
 a copy of the Duqueboro Clarion, and returned to 
 the compartment, there fell upon my astonished gaze 
 a description of the events of the last night. Display 
 headlines, printed in big red letters, extending across 
 the page and arranged with eye-catching skill, 
 announced 
 
 THE FAMOUS "No BENEDICTION" DOMINIE MAKES A 
 BID FOR OUR EICHEST CITY PULPIT. 
 
 MILLIONAIRE DAVID HENDERSON INTRODUCES HIM. 
 
 HE TELLS A THRILLING STORY OF 
 How HE SAVES SOULS. 
 
 TELLS How OLD DAVIE, THE CORPORATION LAWYER, 
 FELL INTO THE GREENTON RIVER. 
 
 TELLS How AN EX-BUMMER BUSTED A TAVERN BAR.
 
 220 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Not to read was impossible. Not to become angry 
 and grow red in the face was equally impossible. 
 Fascination and exasperation were in those lines. This 
 was my first experience with the guild reportorial. 
 My face, of course, betrayed me. 
 
 " Duqueboro papers do it up brown, don t they ? " 
 said the man who had been doing most of the talking. 
 
 To which I made answer, " They seem to do it up 
 red. I know now how skinned eels feel." 
 
 " Why, how s that ? " asked the second man. " You 
 don t look skinned. Your face is that red, you look 
 more like a lobster." 
 
 At that we all laughed. " All right," I said. 
 " You re a commercial man, and I suppose you think 
 you belong to a privileged class, and until you say 
 something worse than you have, I ll not complain. 
 But I tell you, boys, I ve enough to make any man s 
 face red. I m the preacher that those red headlines 
 roast so." 
 
 " You don t say ? " said the first man. He rose and 
 put out his hand. " Shake, Dominie, shake. I m glad 
 to see a preacher that can get red headlines from the 
 Clarion. There isn t one in a hundred of em that can." 
 
 "Well, I don t like it," I resumed. "I ll be 
 ashamed to go back into Duqueboro, if I m. ever asked 
 to go back. What do you suppose those church folks 
 will think ? I don t want their pulpit, and I didn t 
 make any bid for it. That layout there is outrageous." 
 
 " Oh, no, it ain t," said the second man. " That s 
 just high newspaper art. No one ll remember it a 
 week. The reporters will have more hot stuff to-mor 
 row or next day. Everybody will forget you. Folks 
 haven t time to waste remembering all the papers say, 
 leastways about country ministers."
 
 RED HEADLINES 221 
 
 " You don t seem to have a high opinion of country 
 ministers," I said. 
 
 " Well, no ; they ain t no great shakes," was the 
 response. " But the country has to have em, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "Where do you think the city ministers come 
 from ?" 
 
 " Oh, that s all right. The smart country ones bid 
 for the big city pulpits when they get a chance, just 
 as you did." 
 
 " But I told you I didn t bid for that pulpit," I said 
 in great heat. 
 
 " That s the way they all talk," he replied, and 
 added, " What a lot of liars newspaper reporters 
 must be." 
 
 " Well, the newspaper man who wrote those head 
 lines was a liar. And the off-hand way in which you 
 class me in with the pulpit-hunters makes me think of 
 another drummer I used to know." 
 
 " Who was he ? " 
 
 " Joe Smith, a Boston man." 
 
 " What ! Joe Smith, of Murdoch, Stiles and 
 Harris ? " 
 
 " Yes, he s the man." 
 
 Then this second man jumped up, thrusting out his 
 hand. " Shake, partner," he said, " shake. Proud 
 to know anyone that knew Joe. Poor old chap, he 
 isn t dead, but he s buried." 
 
 " Not much," I answered. " He s above ground all 
 right, and he s the liveliest man I know. He s preach 
 ing and superintending a mission in Grandview, New 
 York. And if you ever get a chance, you go hear 
 him preach. He ll open your eyes. Where did you 
 know him ? "
 
 222 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Oh, on the road and in Boston. I took his place 
 in Murdoch s concern when Joe quit." 
 
 " You did ? Well, I m going to see Joe to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 " That so ? You tell him you saw Pete Dunn, and 
 tell him I say he s buried." 
 
 " All right. And when you go into Boston, you 
 tell Mr. Harris you saw me on the road." 
 
 "Do you know Harris?" 
 
 " Yes. He is my cousin. We traveled over Europe 
 and the Holy Land together." 
 
 " Great Scott ! " he said. " What a little world this 
 is." And with that the conversation ended, and I 
 turned to the paper. What a fabrication it was. I 
 read with a mingled feeling of wrath and mirth : 
 
 " The Presbyterian Social Union had a big time last 
 night. The meeting was ostensibly to hear three 
 addresses, after the regular banquet of the Union. 
 The real purpose, however, was to hear the new sensa 
 tion discovered in the East by Mr. David Henderson, 
 the well-known corporation lawyer, the leading elder 
 in the Kir Jear Presbyterian Church, and the boss of 
 things generally in Presbyterian circles in this city. 
 Mr. Henderson s find is popularly known in the East 
 as the No Benediction preacher. The way it came 
 about : 
 
 " Mr. Henderson happened to be in the city where 
 this no benediction preacher resides, on the Sunday 
 when he sprung his great sensation. Since then, the 
 preacher has been traveling about, making the speech 
 he made last night. Report says it has been to him 
 the source of an income not to be laughed at. The 
 Clarion \vas unable to verify the report that he was 
 paid one hundred dollars by the officers of the Union,
 
 RED HEADLINES 223 
 
 His story of old Davie up to bis neck in the water, 
 lighting with a trout, was as dramatic as anything to 
 be heard in tbe histrionic world. Of course no one 
 believes the story. No one ever heard of catching a 
 trout with a bumblebee and a darning-needle. That 
 was one of the facts that belong to the realm of the 
 imagination. But preachers, as we know them, are 
 fond of telling good stories, and when they have 
 heard one or invented one, the road to believing it to 
 be true, and to telling it as true, is not long. It is 
 the business of preachers to believe things. 
 
 " Guests at the Union enjoyed it all immensely, and 
 only a few knew that the no benediction man s 
 address was a put-up job. Almost all thought it 
 impromptu. Our reporters caught the preacher as he 
 was going out of the foyer of the Duqueboro Club, 
 but he was not in the mood to be interviewed. Mr. 
 Henderson whipped him off, for fear, probably, that 
 he would say something true that could be printed. 
 
 " Mr. Henderson s own speech was not slow. He 
 gave all the preachers a good round-up, and his own 
 guest came in for a share. Mr. Henderson never 
 spoils a story for relation s sake. 
 
 "Altogether, the Presbyterians had a night they 
 will not soon forget. The two real speeches were not 
 what you hear on the vaudeville stage, but they were 
 not far off. The other two speeches were of no im 
 portance. There is talk, it has been learned, of call 
 ing this preacher to the vacant pulpit of the Kir Jear 
 Church. If it be true, and he accept the call, Duque- 
 boro will not be without her sensations." 
 
 After that bit of reportorial literature had been 
 read through three times, it was cut, headlines and 
 all, from the paper, and consigned to my letter-case.
 
 224: THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 We were almost down the grade on the eastern side 
 of the mountains. It was time to return to Julia and 
 Felix. To break in upon their tete-a-tete was not 
 pleasant, but there was no alternative. The train came 
 to a halt at the foot of the mountains, and Felix very 
 reluctantly said good-bye. 
 
 Miss Julia Henderson and her escort did not reach 
 Grandview until seven o clock on Saturday night. It 
 was a clear, cold December night, and there was good 
 sleighing, though it was yet only early winter. My 
 spirits were high. In a few moments my last duty to 
 my friend s daughter would have been performed, 
 and after that what comfort there would be for old 
 Joe and me at the Balustrade. I found a sleigh, told 
 the driver where to go, and we were away. 
 
 The driver placed Julia s luggage on the porch and 
 rang the bell. I helped her to alight and walked with 
 her to the door, expecting to return presently to be 
 driven to the Balustrade. I did not see who opened 
 the door, having turned to gather up the light luggage. 
 But I knew from the demonstrations I heard that 
 Julia had rushed into her friend s arms. I was still 
 busy loading myself with valises and magazines and 
 a box of flowers, when a voice struck my ear that for 
 a second stopped the beating of my heart and sent a 
 thrill through every fibre of my being. "What was 
 this ? Where was I ? Was this some feverish dream ? 
 Would I wake presently and find myself in Greenton, 
 and know that Duqueboro was only a figment of a 
 weary brain ? 
 
 " Julia dear," the voice said, " you are keeping the 
 gentleman out in the cold."
 
 RED HEADLINES 225 
 
 "Why, so I am," she cried. " How stupid of me ! " 
 and she hastened on into the halhvay. 
 
 Then I turned like a soldier at the word of com. 
 mand. There stood the maid of honor. 
 
 There was no escape for me. Henderson had 
 trapped me. We faced each other as statues do, 
 motionless, neither giving a sign for a full minute. 
 Neither spoke. Without flinching we looked each 
 other squarely in the eyes. Though my exterior was 
 calm, my soul was in a tumult. Julia s luggage was 
 in my hands still, held awkwardly enough too. What 
 new game fate was about to play with me was not 
 yet revealed. But I knew where I was, and as to that 
 girl there could be no mistake. Marble is not whiter 
 than was her face. Plainly she was greatly moved. 
 Three thoughts went chasing each other through my 
 mind. How beautiful she is! How I love her! How 
 she hates me ! Suddenly Julia recollected that I had 
 not been introduced. Turning to me she said, " You 
 will pardon me, I doubt, as my father would say." 
 Then addressing her friend, " Let me present my escort 
 from Duqueboro, Mr. Haynes." At that the maid of 
 honor, her manner absolutely unruffled, said, "I won 
 dered that you did not present your escort. Please 
 come in, the night is cold." 
 
 Standing as rigid as will and anger could make me, 
 I said, " Miss Henderson, this is not Miss Alcorn ; this 
 is Miss Alice Leaven worth. Why have you deceived 
 me so ? " And then to that peerless other girl, " I 
 told you it would be by accident if we ever met again, 
 and this is the most unseemly accident and the worst 
 blunder of all." 
 
 "We will let accidents and blunders go for 
 to-night, Mr. Haynes," Miss Leavenwortb said.
 
 226 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Come in : we are keeping the door open, and the air 
 is frosty." 
 
 " Yes, it is frosty, very frosty," I said. " I will close 
 the door, but only to say good-night after a moment. 
 May I have brief privilege of speech ? Had I known 
 where I was coming to-night, and that you lived in 
 Grandview, I would never have been at this door. 
 The name Alcorn misled me." Again to Julia Hender 
 son I said, " Miss Henderson, I repeat my question. 
 "Why have you deceived me so ? " 
 
 " But she is Miss Alcorn," said Julia. " She is 
 Alice Alcorn Leavenworth, and my father said we 
 must call her Miss Alcorn to you, and- he would not 
 tell me why." 
 
 " But I know why," I answered. " I know bitterly 
 why." Then addressing myself once more to the 
 maid of honor I said, " I supposed that you lived in 
 Newark. That belief came from the entry in the 
 guest-book in the Castle of Indolence. You will 
 pardon me, I am sure, for being here unasked and 
 undesired. My sleigh is at the door, and I will keep 
 my Westernland promise. Good-night, Miss Leaven- 
 worth. Good-night, Miss Henderson, and good-bye." 
 
 And at that juncture a voice sounded through the 
 hall, "What s that I hear? Good-night without giv 
 ing a fellow a chance to shake your hand and to say 
 how glad we are to return in some measure the kind 
 ness you showed us in the big rain-storm ? No, no, 
 that won t do." The voice was that of the brother 
 who had been with Tim and me on the way in to 
 Indian Lake, and also my fellow-passenger on The 
 Westernland. He came down the hall and took my 
 hand in a way that left no doubt of his cordiality. 
 
 Then his sister said, " Dick, I was just about to tell
 
 RED HEADLINES 227 
 
 Mr. Ilaynes that mother would never forgive me if 
 I allowed him to go away without accepting our 
 hospitality." Turning to me she said, "We have 
 waited dinner for Julia and you." Then she spoke 
 once more to her brother, "Here, Dick, take charge 
 of Mr. Ilaynes. He needs refreshing after his long 
 journey. Dinner will be ready when you come 
 down. Come, Julia." When at last we had gathered 
 for dinner the maid of honor presented me to her 
 mother and to her brother s only boy, Willie. "All 
 that we are you see," she said. " One whom you saw 
 on the Adirondack drive has gone home." 
 
 I shall never forget the way in which the mother 
 bowed, and then advancing took my hand. She was 
 a lady of the old school, and made me feel that her 
 home was mine while I was in it. A glance was 
 sufficient to see the source from which the daughter 
 derived her marvelous beauty. At dinner Julia 
 made one or two attempts to explain the Alcorn 
 game that she and her father had played, but the 
 maid of honor was alert, and with rare tact kept 
 Julia from entangling herself in the toils of falsehood. 
 She did manage to express great surprise that Miss 
 Leavenworth and I had met on any other occasion 
 than that of St. David s, but she had not the skill of 
 her father. lie could dodge absolute falsehood with 
 wonderful adroitness, but Julia would have been 
 wrecked but for the maid of honor. As soon as 
 dinner was over, and conventionality would allow, I 
 excused myself. 
 
 " Shall I see you again ? " asked Julia, as I was 
 making my adieus. 
 
 " No, Miss Henderson," I answered. " I m going to 
 Mr. Smith s mission in the afternoon, and shall spend
 
 228 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 the rest of the day with him. Early Monday morning 
 I start for Greenton. You ll not miss me." 
 
 But Mrs. Leavenworth had another little attention 
 to bestow on her chance guest. The dear old lady 
 did not in the least know that every moment I was 
 spending there was torture. 
 
 "What? You are not coming to see us to-mor 
 row?" she said. " You are a stranger in Grandview. 
 I wish you would come in to-morrow night and see 
 the lovely view from our river-front veranda. The 
 moon will be full to-morrow night. Come and let 
 Richard show you the fine outlook." 
 
 So I accepted. But I said in an aside to Miss 
 Leavenworth, who had offered me her hand, " I have 
 not forgotten and I will not forget my promise on 
 The Westernland. I will keep that." 
 
 "It is a good thing to keep one s promises, as a 
 rule, I suppose," she answered. 
 
 As I went out, I met Bruce Eraser going in. The 
 night was bright. 
 
 " You here ? " he said. " How did you get here ? " 
 
 "By the train and a sleigh," I answered. His 
 breath was strong of liquor.
 
 A 
 
 XIX 
 
 TOM 
 
 S I registered at the Balustrade the clerk said, 
 " Mr. Smith called for you an hour ago. He 
 left a letter." It ran : 
 
 " I waited to see you as long as I could, but I ll 
 see you to-morrow. Don t fail to go to the First 
 Church in the morning. There s a new pastor there, 
 and he s worth hearing. Be sure to come to the mis 
 sion in the afternoon, and go home with us to dinner. 
 I will show you the best mission work in a small city 
 you ever heard of, and the handsomest woman in 
 America. You can t afford to miss either. JOE." 
 
 Of course I knew who that woman was. In the 
 quiet of my room I pondered the varied experiences 
 of the past most eventful week. Henderson s whole 
 scheme was as plain as daylight. He had intended to 
 bring me face to face with the girl of whom he had 
 talked so mysteriously, and had succeeded. Moreover 
 he had known all the time that my girl and his were 
 identical, for that Julia should not know where her 
 friend had been maid of honor, and who had been best 
 man, was unthinkable. The Duqueboro visit and the 
 preaching had been only by-play for his real game. 
 He had overmatched me by indirection once more, and 
 the game was on. There were surely three players in 
 it. I was one ; Bruce Fraser was another ; the girl 
 was the third. Fraser evidently " had the man of me," 
 as the checker players say. 
 
 229
 
 230 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Joe was delightfully ignorant of the whole plot that 
 Henderson had laid, but he had unwittingly placed me 
 where it was my move, and the spirit of play and the 
 determination to win took form for the first time. 
 
 Plainly enough the girl had not changed. She had 
 been polite because in her own home, but she had 
 given not the slightest intimation that approach toward 
 her would be tolerated. Her real attitude toward me 
 evidently had not changed since St. David s. But 
 could I allow that beer-drinking Bruce to win her 
 without an effort ? No, no, no. And yet what to do 
 I did not know. 
 
 Sunday dawned crisp, clear, and cold. My first 
 thought was of the relief that one day free from 
 preaching would bring. To go to church and hear a 
 sermon would be a comfort. To sit where the maid 
 of honor could be seen, and have no one to say me 
 nay, would be a delight ; then a second thought forced 
 itself into consciousness : suppose she should not be in 
 church to-day ; or suppose she attends some other 
 church ? Finally, " Be honest with } T ourself," said 
 conscience. " You re not going to church to hear a 
 sermon ; you re going hoping to see that girl." " You 
 hold your peace," I answered to the uncomfortable 
 monitor. " What do you know about my reasons for 
 going to church ? " Nevertheless, I asked the sexton, 
 when I reached the First Church, if the Leavenworth 
 family attended there, and not until he made an 
 affirmative answer did I enter. He followed me with 
 the inquiry, " Shall I show you to their pew, sir ? " 
 
 "No," I answered. "But will you tell me upon 
 which aisle they sit ? " He pointed to the aisle, and 
 on it, by the door, in the back pew, I seated myself. 
 From that vantage point every person who should
 
 TOM 231 
 
 enter could be plainly seen. But it was of no avail. 
 The maid of honor did not come; only "Brother 
 Dick " and the boy Willie, who spied me and told his 
 father, whereupon the latter stepped back and asked 
 me to be his guest. 
 
 "Thank you," I answered, "but I fear that would 
 crowd you uncomfortably. You have one guest 
 already." 
 
 " Oh, no," he replied, " mother and the girls will not 
 be here to-day. There will be plenty of room." So 
 into the Leaven worth pew I went, and took a little 
 consolation in thinking I was sitting probably where 
 she often sat. 
 
 But my thoughts were presently turned into another 
 channel. When the preacher entered his pulpit, to 
 my utter amazement he was the preacher of the Paoli 
 monument conversation, the Hev. Chalfant Fraser. 
 To turn to Mr. Richard and ask " Is this your pastor ? " 
 was the work of an instant, and as he assured me he 
 was, a whole troop of memories went flitting across 
 the field of consciousness. Just then Mr. Fraser 
 recognized me, and, coming down from his pulpit, 
 asked me to a seat beside him and to make the " long 
 prayer." 
 
 Why Bruce Fraser was in Grandview was now 
 evident enough, and, if the truth must be told, he 
 occupied more of my attention than did his father s 
 sermon. 
 
 " Old boy, what are you mooning about ? " Joe 
 had been piloting Elder Ilarfis and me about his mis 
 sion building, and probably had expected much more 
 enthusiasm in me than he found. My answer was 
 wide of the question. " Does Bruce Fraser live here ? "
 
 232 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Bruce Eraser ? Tv r hat in creation has he to do 
 with my mission house ? " 
 
 " Well, nothing, I hope. But does he live here ? " 
 
 "No, he don t. He lives in Newark. He s up here 
 every week. What do you know about him ? " 
 
 " He rode into the Adirondacks once with Wendell 
 and me, and there came up an awful thunder-shower 
 and soaked all three of us to the skin." 
 
 " Oh, I see. I suppose you heard Dr. Fraser preach 
 this morning ? Do you want to see Bruce ? " 
 
 " No, not particularly. I did hear Dr. Fraser this 
 morning, and I thought perhaps Bruce was his son 
 and might live here." 
 
 " Yes, he s Dr. Eraser s son. He s in town to-day, I 
 think. When I was waiting in the Balustrade for you 
 last night, he came in and went to the bar. I hear he 
 goes there too often." 
 
 " Do you know anything about his home ? Does his 
 wife live here or in Newark ? " I felt guilty when I 
 said that. I was playing old Joe, and he a fraternity 
 brother. 
 
 " Wife ? He hasn t any wife. He s after one here, 
 I m afraid. He s hanging around that girl I ve been 
 writing to you about. I wish he d keep away. He s 
 a bad egg. You see, I know the game. I ve played it 
 myself, but I never mixed a good girl into it. I ve 
 had a notion to tell that girl what he is, but Helen 
 says I d better keep still." 
 
 Just at that moment a bell sounded. "That is 
 for the various departments to assemble," said Joe. 
 "Come on." 
 
 He led the way to what was evidently the main 
 mission room, and asked me to a seat with him on the 
 platform. There were gathered seven hundred chil-
 
 TOM 233 
 
 dren and youth and adults. The sight was fine, and 
 to me ne\v. As Joe took his place, every one rose. 
 "Good-afternoon, my dear people, young and old," he 
 said, and a great response returned, " Good-afternoon, 
 Mr. Smith." During the opening exercises, my gaze 
 was roving about the room, but the girl I sought was 
 not there. When the lesson period came, Joe said : 
 
 " My girl, of whom I have written and bragged, 
 isn t here to-day, though she expected to be, when I 
 saw her yesterday. There must be something unusual 
 the matter. But will you take her class?" 
 
 To assent was only the part of brotherly kindness, 
 but the experience of the hour that followed was 
 wholly unique, and its consequences could by no pos 
 sibility be foreseen. 
 
 There were six boys in the class. Five were fairly 
 well dressed and better-looking than the average mis 
 sion school boy of ten or eleven years. The sixth boy 
 was one of the impossibles. He w r as fully sixteen 
 years old. He was large, awkward, overgrown, poorly 
 dressed. His hands and face were far from clean, and 
 his hair was uncombed. His whole appearance was 
 repugnant. 
 
 Even while I was wondering at the queer make-up 
 of this class, one of the boys spoke. 
 
 " Say, boss, put him out," pointing to the older lad. 
 " He don t belong here." 
 
 "Where does he belong?" I asked. 
 
 " We don t know," chorused the whole five. " We 
 ain t never seen him before." 
 
 "Well, where shall I put him, boys?" 
 
 " Aw, we don t care. Put him out o here." 
 
 " But, boys, I m a stranger here. I wouldn t like to 
 make a rumpus like that."
 
 234 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Get Mr. Smith ter take him away, then," they 
 urged. 
 
 All this time the big boy sat perfectly still, appar 
 ently paying no heed to the talk. 
 
 " Before I ask Mr. Smith to take him away, let s 
 find out who he is," I suggested. To this they agreed, 
 and little by little I dug out the following informa 
 tion, while the five boys gradually became interested 
 and leaned forward to listen. 
 
 " Name s Tom. No, nuthin but Tom Tom s name 
 enough fer me. 
 
 " How old I be ? I m eighteen year old. 
 
 "My father? Ain t got no father. Hed one 
 once. 
 
 " Yes, my father s dead. Killed in th factory. 
 
 " Yes, I work in th factory. 
 
 " Got six sisters an two brothers. 
 
 " Yes, two o th gals works in th factory. 
 
 " Hard ter git along ? You bet ! 
 
 " No, never bin ter school. C n read easy words a 
 little. Mother larned me. 
 
 " No, never bin ter Sunday-school. 
 
 " Dunno why I come in here. Was tired ; folks 
 looked nice ; wanted ter set down, so I come in. 
 
 "Yes, know God made me. Dunno why. Didn 
 do me no good, makin me. Made ever body, s pose 
 He hed ter make me. 
 
 " Know Jesus died fer me ? No ; wha d He do thet 
 fer? 
 
 " Hain t saved me none. Hain t saved none o us 
 none. 
 
 " Whose class this is ? Didn know twas a class. 
 Was tired ; come in here ; sot down." 
 
 By the time I had pumped all this from Tom by
 
 TOM 235 
 
 dint of patient questioning, the lesson time was gone. 
 The other boys had watched and listened with all 
 their eyes and ears. 
 
 "Boys, shall I put him out?" I asked of them 
 finally. 
 
 " Naw don t put him out. Let him stay. Let the 
 teacher say what she ll do, next Sunday," said one 
 boy. " She likes freaks, an this bloke s a big one." 
 Then another boy reached over and asked, " Say, 11 
 yer come next Sunday ? " 
 
 " Dunno," was the answer. 
 
 When the session was over, I asked Joe and Mr. 
 Harfis to excuse me for an hour. Something impelled 
 me to learn more of that boy s life. Hurrying out 
 after him, I slipped my arm through his, and asked 
 him to take me home with him to see his mother. He 
 made no response. No attempt to draw him into con 
 versation succeeded. He would make answer only in 
 short phrases. His speech was slow ; so was his gait, 
 though the December afternoon was cold, and his 
 clothes were thin and ragged. His shoes were coarse 
 and broken, and he wore no stockings. He said he 
 owned no Bible. He owned nothing : how could he? 
 All his slender earnings went to help keep the wolf 
 from his mother s door. Even his hearing seemed 
 dull. In my soul the question would keep rising, 
 " Lord Jesus, is this one of those for whom Thou hast 
 died ? Has this man a soul ? " 
 
 A mile or more to Tom s home was traversed at 
 last. Down by the river, in a squalid place, stood the 
 house, or rather hovel. In such a locality, in the 
 summer, swine would lie in the gutters and pools of 
 stagnant water; goats would browse upon the weeds 
 at the door; geese would hiss at the passers. Now
 
 236 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 the snow was defiled of all purity. Heaps of filth 
 marked the course of the highway, and rendered the 
 approaches to the place almost intolerable. 
 
 The hut consisted of a single story, and contained 
 three rooms. One was kitchen, store-room, and family 
 living-room combined, serving also as Tom s bedroom 
 at night, while into the other wretched apartments 
 were crowded the mother and her eight children. 
 
 My talk with the woman gave me a new view of 
 life. She was of a poor type, like the hovel where she 
 lived. Every morning, winter and summer, the boy 
 and his two sisters were up and away by six o clock, 
 to the long hours and heated, unhealthy air of the 
 great cotton-mill, a mile away. At night, they would 
 trudge home to the wretched fare which their scanty 
 earnings and their improvident mother could procure. 
 It was probable that, since Tom could remember, 
 he had never known what it was not to be hungry. 
 
 The house was in great need of repairs. The door- 
 sill had rotted away ; the door hung by the top hinge 
 only ; the chimney-top was broken, and the chimney 
 crumbling down ; the glass was broken in many panes, 
 and the holes filled with bits of rag and scraps of 
 paper. To see it made me sick at heart. Some one 
 was being paid for the rent of that place, and the coin 
 was made out of the blood and brawn of that poor 
 boy. 
 
 Not until I had persuaded both mother and boy to 
 promise that he would return to the mission school 
 next Sabbath, did I turn my steps toward Joe Smith s 
 home. The clock on the mantel in his parlor showed 
 five-thirty, and there were some expostulations over 
 my conduct, though, when the tale of my afternoon 
 was told, they all forgave me.
 
 TOM 237 
 
 "I ll look out for that boy next week," said Joe, 
 "and put him where ho belongs." 
 
 " Joe," and I reached half across the table in my 
 earnestness, "don t you move that boy until I say you 
 may. I don t know his teacher, but if she has such 
 beauty of heart and soul as you say she has of face, 
 she ll keep that poor Tom, and she ll make something 
 of him. lie s my find, Joe, and I m going to know 
 more of him, by and by." 
 
 " Well," my friend exclaimed, " of all the idiotic 
 speeches ! You don t know his teacher, and you ll 
 never see her, probably, unless I can get you down 
 here again. And you re going home on the first train 
 to-morrow. Ilow will you ever know more about 
 that boy ? " 
 
 " Why, through you, of course," I answered. " I ve 
 added a family to your calling list."
 
 XX 
 
 JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION 
 
 JULIA and the maid of honor had not gone out 
 that day. Julia was too weary from her long 
 journey, and courtesy kept her hostess at home 
 with her friend. They were sitting together pretend 
 ing to read, when Julia said, " Alice, who was that 
 man here last night ? " 
 
 " You ought to know," was the reply. " You 
 brought him here." 
 
 " Oh, I never ! He did not come on account of me." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but he came with you." 
 
 " Whom are you talking about ? " 
 
 " Your escort from home : that young minister. 
 You know well enough." 
 
 " Oh, I don t mean him. Of course I know who he 
 is. He s daddy s pet. But I m talking about that 
 Fraser man. Who is he ? " 
 
 " Why, you have just said who he is that Eraser 
 man. " 
 
 " Alice, what ails you ? You re perverse. Are you 
 in love with him ? " 
 
 " In love with whom ? Your escort ? If I were, 
 I d never tell him nor you." 
 
 " Oh, bother the escort. Let him rest. But he has 
 some sense. He left Felix and me together in the 
 parlor car, and gave Felix his seat because there was 
 no other. But the Fraser man are you going to 
 marry the Fraser man ? " 
 
 233
 
 JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION 239 
 
 " How do I know ? He has never asked me." 
 
 "Does he come here every week?" 
 
 " Yes, when he does not go somewhere else." 
 
 "How long have you known him? He s a hand 
 some fellow. He s taller than Felix. But I didn t 
 like him last night." 
 
 " Why didn t you like him ? " 
 
 " I didn t like his airs. He had a sort of swagger, 
 as if he was thinking I d have people understand 
 that I am at home in this house. : 
 
 " Well, why shouldn t he ? We all make him very 
 much at home. He s brother Dick s manager in 
 Newark." 
 
 " Have you known him long ? " 
 
 "What a lot of questions you ask. You give me 
 no chance to answer. I ve known him four or five 
 years." 
 
 " Did you know him when we were at Dow s 
 Crossing?" 
 
 " Yes." There was a pause for a few minutes. 
 Each girl studied her book, but each was preparing 
 to renew the skirmish over the men of the night 
 before. Julia led off once more. " Where does he 
 live ? " 
 
 " In Greentou." 
 
 " What ! do they both live in Greenton ? " 
 
 " Both who ? What s the matter with you, Julia ? " 
 
 " There s nothing the matter with me, but I believe 
 there is with you. I believe you re in love with that 
 Greenton preacher. You seem to think I m asking 
 about him all the time. I tell you, Alice, I m not 
 talking about the preacher. I m talking about the 
 Fraser man. Where does he live ? " 
 
 " Oh, he lives here, or in Newark. His father is
 
 240 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 pastor of our church, and Bruce comes up every Satur 
 day night from Newark. Before Dick s wife died 
 they lived in Newark, and Bruce was a clerk in his 
 store. When Dick and I went abroad, he left Bruce 
 in charge of the Newark store. And now Dick has 
 moved up here and made Bruce manager." 
 
 " Well, I don t like him." 
 
 " And I do. He s good times. You ll see. He 
 knows how to laugh. That Greenton preacher doesn t 
 look as though he could laugh." 
 
 " Oh, he can laugh, Alice. He s a splendid story 
 teller. Daddy thinks there s no one quite like him. 
 They re going to call him to our Duqueboro Church, 
 daddy says." 
 
 " Julia Henderson, do you know that you and your 
 father are responsible for all that awkwardness at the 
 door last night ? " 
 
 " Well, I don t see why it had to be awkward. You 
 knew who was coming with me. Phyllis wrote ask 
 ing you for a visit while the best man was at our 
 house. You ought to have come. Then it wouldn t 
 have been awkward." 
 
 " Julia, I hate that man. He s a terror. How he 
 blazed out last night, about meeting by accident. He 
 needn t have told you all the misery of my acquaint 
 ance with him in that way." 
 
 " Misery ? Where s the misery in knowing so nice 
 a man ? If I d known him before I knew Felix " 
 
 " Well, I wish you had, and had kept him out of my 
 way." 
 
 " Why, Alice, what s he done ? Keep him out of 
 your way ? When has he been in your way ? " 
 
 " Every time I have seen him he has been in my 
 way."
 
 JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION 
 
 " Have you seen him so often ? " 
 
 " I ve seen him too often. You knew at the time 
 all about St. David s." 
 
 " Yes, of course I knew about that. Where else 
 has he been in your way ? " 
 
 " Oh, in that drive into the Adirondacks. I wrote 
 to you about that. And that night on The Western- 
 land," 
 
 " Well, I recollect what you wrote about that 
 Adirondack experience. I thought he did you a 
 great service. I wouldn t say a man was in the way 
 who wrapped me up in his storm blanket and coat 
 and kept me dry. lie was splendid then." 
 
 " He did not wrap me up. That was Mr. Wendell." 
 
 "Well, how about The Wester nland, Alice?" 
 
 " Why, he was a passenger, and we met of course. 
 The night before we landed, he came stumbling along 
 in the dark and nearly fell over my steamer chair. I 
 thought he had come seeking to see me. and I blazed 
 out at him, and he blazed back again. That was all." 
 
 " Is that all, Alice ? " 
 
 " Isn t that enough ? I m tired of him, and I wish 
 you had seen him before you saw Felix." 
 
 "How about that time you were with Felix, and 
 saw him, Alice?" 
 
 " What time ? What do you mean ? Haven t I 
 told you times enough to show you how he gets in 
 my way ? " 
 
 " That won t do, Alice. I mean the time before 
 Schaus window, when you said a horrid thing and 
 he ran into the street ? " 
 
 " How did you know about that ? " 
 
 " Felix told me. How else would I know ? " 
 
 " Felix might have been in better business than
 
 242 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 telling you about that. I was horrid, and afraid he d 
 be killed." 
 
 Then Julia Henderson laughed. She went over to 
 her friend and put her arm around her, saying, " You 
 transparent little goose. He s a terror, and I hate 
 that man. Alice Leaven worth, you love that preacher, 
 you know you do." 
 
 " Must I fall in love with the first handsome stranger, 
 just because you lost your heart to Felix at first sight ? 
 I tell you I m not falling in love with men that turn 
 the cold shoulder on me the way he did in the Adiron- 
 dacks." 
 
 Then Julia Henderson laughed once more as heartily 
 as her father might have done. "When she was quiet 
 again, she said, " Oh, Alice Leavenworth, you are 
 too absurd. You love him : you know you love him. 
 I know girls. I wish you could have seen yourself as 
 he drew back in a way that he meant should annihilate 
 me, and said, This is not Miss Alcorn. It was funny, 
 Alice." 
 
 " Funny ? I do not see where the fun was. He 
 was angry ; so was I, only I could not show it in my 
 own doorway. What did you and your father mean 
 by calling me Miss Alcorn ? " 
 
 "Why, don t you know daddy yet, Alice? He s 
 queer, you see. He s different from anyone else. He 
 never does things as other men do." 
 
 " Yes, I know that. But what was the need of his 
 being different about me ? " 
 
 "Why, I expect he wanted to give you and Mr. 
 Haynes a pleasant surprise." 
 
 " Surprise ? Pleasant ? How could John Haynes 
 coming here surprise me ? Phyllis wrote me he 
 would be at your father s. You wrote me that as
 
 JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION 243 
 
 your faiher had a guest who lived in the East, you 
 Avould take advantage of his home-going to visit me, 
 as he had consented to serve as your escort. I knew 
 who was coming. And I was rather enjoying the 
 opportunity I would have of saying something Avithin 
 the lines of hospitality that would yet make him 
 know he had deliberately broken his fine promise not 
 to see me again except by accident. But I don t like 
 the place you and your father put me in at all." 
 
 " But he did not go back on his promise. He had 
 no idea he was going to see you. Daddy used the 
 Alcorn name that Mr. Haynes might not know." 
 
 " No matter, I tell you I don t like it, Julia. I was 
 mortified. I never want to see him again, and I 
 wouldn t if mother hadn t asked him back to-night." 
 
 " Well, Alice, he behaved mighty well last night." 
 
 After that followed another long pause, then Julia 
 began again. "Dearie," she said, "daddy thinks 
 more of you than of any other woman in the world, 
 outside his own family. And the preacher s daddy s 
 pet. If he d seen you last night, he would have told 
 you to-day you were the most horridly polite and 
 politely horrid girl he had ever seen. If I were John 
 Haynes, I d send a note to your mother telling her I 
 wouldn t or couldn t come to-night." 
 
 "What did I do, Julia?" 
 
 " Tried to be a lady because he was in your own 
 house, and to make him resentful for treating him as 
 if he were an absolute nonentity." 
 
 " Well, Julia, that s what I meant to do." 
 
 " Yes, and when he was gone you treated that 
 Fraser man as if he were the prince and you would 
 be Cinderella, and you don t mean any such thing. I 
 can t bear the Fraser man."
 
 244 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Well, what if I like Bruce, what then ?" 
 
 " You don t, you know you don t. And I am going 
 to give you some advice. You love that preacher. 
 You needn t blush. It s not a thing to be ashamed of. 
 Daddy says he s the finest young preacher he knows, 
 and he ll be in Duqueboro, pastor of our church, in 
 four months. You see ? And I ll have him marry 
 Felix and me, and you ll be maid of honor. Now 
 behave. Treat him decently. When he comes 
 to-night, be as nice as you were to the Fraser man 
 last night." 
 
 "But, Julia Henderson, I ll never marry a preacher. 
 I never will." 
 
 " All right, my dear, you may never have the 
 chance. You wouldn t if I were he. But if I were 
 you, I d be nice to-night, I would." Just then Willie 
 came bouncing in. " Aunt Alice and Auntie Julia, 
 supper s ready." 
 
 Two hours later, the two girls stood with me on the 
 veranda, enjoying the marvelous panorama of river and 
 mountain. But one thought interested me more than 
 the glorious view. It was, that the maid of honor and 
 the teacher of the mission class were probably identical. 
 Returning to the parlor, the leading part in the 
 conversation fell to me. I decided to take a risk and 
 end my uncertainty. So I said to the maid of honor : 
 
 " I did not see you at the mission this afternoon." 
 
 " No," she replied, " I was unable to go. But what 
 made you expect to see me there ? " 
 
 " That s a rather hard question to answer," was my 
 response. " The natural thing, for one who knows Mr. 
 Smith, is to be interested in whatever interests him."
 
 JULIA BECOMES MY CHAMPION 245 
 
 "Air. Smith?" she repeated in a puzzled way. 
 " But what made you think I had the honor of Mr. 
 Smith s acquaintance ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Smith is missionary of the First Church, 
 and you belong to that church, and I know Joe so well 
 that I m sure that by this time he knows every man, 
 woman, and child in that church." 
 
 " I see I can t deceive you," she laughed. " I do 
 know Mr. Smith, and I m not only interested in him 
 and his work, but I m a teacher in his mission." So 
 there was one thing settled. 
 
 " I was almost sure of that," I answered. " And I 
 taught your class this afternoon." With that remark 
 I caught my lady s eye and saw clear to the bottom 
 of it. The flash as from cold steel was not there. 
 
 " How do you know you had my class ? " came her 
 quick question. 
 
 " Do you wish me to tell you exactly how I knew ? " 
 I replied. 
 
 " Why, yes," she said. " There is nothing dreadful 
 about that, is there ? " 
 
 " Oh, no : quite the contrary," was my answer. 
 " You will excuse my boldness, but Mr. Smith had told 
 me," I paused for just a second, " had told me that one 
 of the loveliest young ladies in the church was a 
 teacher in his mission, and he wanted me to meet her. 
 After the session began, he had to say, The lady isn t 
 here ; won t you take her class ? I had already seen 
 that you were not there. So I only put two and two 
 together." 
 
 " Your guess was very clever, and I see you haven t 
 grown ungallant since you were at St. David s. Did 
 you like my class ? " she added. 
 
 " Oh, yes. But I ve made an addition to it which I
 
 246 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 fear you will not like. However, if you re the woman 
 I hope you are, you ll accept the legacy which my 
 day s teaching brings you." 
 
 Then I went on to tell in full the story of Tom, with 
 no detail omitted. And the thought of those six girls 
 and that mother in the poor hovel brought to the face 
 of the maid of honor a look of warm tenderness which 
 I had never seen there before. When I finished, she 
 was leaning toward me. 
 
 " Do you mean," she asked, " that you did all that 
 this afternoon ? Did you forego your visit with your 
 friends because of that poor boy ? " 
 
 "I don t think I forewent anything," I replied. 
 " It was plain duty, that was all." 
 
 " I m very glad you did that duty," she said, "for it 
 gives me one which I will try to do. I think there is 
 a little lunch ready for us," she added, rising. " Will 
 you come to the dining-room ? " 
 
 When I said good-night and good-bye to them all, 
 the maid of honor offered me her hand. " I will 
 keep Tom," she said. "And if Grandview ever falls 
 in your way again, as you travel, we will all be much 
 pleased to see you." 
 
 With that, I went out into the night, feeling as that 
 god of the Greeks must have felt, upon whose heels 
 were wings.
 
 XXI 
 
 JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS 
 
 I REACHED home Monday night, and found 
 Greenton mantled in snow. The river was 
 frozen, and I heard the ring of the skates of boys 
 and girls with quickened pulse, thinking of the sport 
 in store for Tim and me. Tim was a famous skater. 
 When dinner was finished, the temptation to try the 
 ice was strong. I took out my skates and was looking 
 for my fur cap when a noise on the porch aroused me. 
 There was a sound of feet stamping off the snow, and 
 then a heavy pounding on the door. Hastening to 
 answer the call, I threw open the door, and there stood 
 Jim Garvey. 
 
 Astonishment, disgust, aversion, and pity were 
 mingled as I saw him. My impulse was to say, "Get 
 out, you vagabond." But through my mind the 
 thought flashed, " You ve been thinking you d try to 
 save this wretch if opportunity came. Here s your 
 opportunity." So I said, " Come in, Jim," as heartily 
 as I could, and, taking him to the library, I planted 
 him comfortably before the wood fire. 
 
 " Have you had anything to eat to-day ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not a mou f ul," was the answer. 
 
 " You ve had too much to drink, though," I said. 
 
 He made no answer. I called my good housekeeper 
 and bade her make some toast, a cup of strong coffee, 
 and broil a steak. Then I began to talk to my 
 unwelcome guest. 
 
 247
 
 248 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 "Jim, I ve been thinking about you often lately." 
 
 " Ain t been thinkin no good, I s pose. Ain t much 
 like I use ter be when I car d water fer the byes, be 
 I ? " The poor wretch smiled a sickly smile. 
 
 " Yes, you are exactly the same you were then, only 
 you re further along the road." 
 
 " What yer mean ? " came over his thick tongue. 
 
 " I mean, when you were a boy, in the old baseball 
 days, you were a vagabond ; profane, foul-mouthed, 
 aimless, tobacco-chewing, beer-drinking, worthless. 
 You were hurrying hellward just as fast as you could 
 go. You re just the same now, only a little nearer 
 hell." 
 
 " D yer think so ? " said he. His respect for the 
 cloth was all that kept him from an outbreak of anger. 
 
 " Yes, I think so, and I know so, Jim Garvey." 
 
 "Well I ain t never had no chance." So he began 
 a defense more crowded with profanity than any equal 
 number of words I ever heard. " I growed up from 
 nothin . M mother wan t no mother. All the men I 
 ever seed drank and swore. I chawed terbacker fore 
 I c d walk, a most. Ter beg was easier nor ter work. 
 I never knowed when I didn t get drunk. Th high 
 bugs up town got just as drunk as I did. They got 
 drunk on champagne. I got drunk on gin, thet was 
 all the differ. A drunk s a drunk, anyhow. Th 
 women in th big houses gambled in th parlors, with 
 ice cream a-settin by, an I gambled in th gin mills, 
 an the town gals a-fetchin beer. The big bugs went 
 to church, an it wan t no place fer sech as me. Yer 
 tried to help a little, but t wan t no use. I was born 
 on th under side o things, an I ve staid on th under 
 side o things." 
 
 Said I, " Jim, I ll give you a good square meal
 
 JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS 249 
 
 to-night, but there won t be any beer nor whiskey. 
 "Will you eat here in my house ? " 
 
 " Yer bet I ll eat. I m hungry." 
 
 I took him out to my mother s table, and sat down 
 there with him. He grabbed his knife and fork, as a 
 hungry tiger might strike his prey. 
 
 " Hold on, Jim," I said, " there s something that s 
 always done at this table before anyone eats. Lay 
 down your knife and fork." He obeyed in mute 
 wonder. I asked God s blessing on that poor wretch, 
 though I almost broke down in the asking. 
 
 He looked at me in dumb amazement for a full 
 minute, without moving, then, breaking the silence, 
 said, " What d ye do thet fer ? " 
 
 " I was asking God to bless you and make you a 
 better man." 
 
 " Is them church doin s ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, you might say that. Christian people 
 always ask God s blessing on their food. But now 
 that it s done, you take hold and eat ; you re 
 hungry." 
 
 He did not have to be told twice. He drank the 
 whole potful of coffee, strong enough to float an 
 egg. He ate the toast and steak to the last scrap and 
 crumb. When he had finished : 
 
 " You re the best man I ever see," he said. " I 
 skipped my bail, yer know. Yer had ter pay thet, 
 didn t yer ? " 
 
 " Yes, I had to pay. But all I paid was money. 
 There s One who has paid more than that for you." 
 
 " Who s He ? " 
 
 " Jesus Christ. He s paid for all your poor, wretched, 
 sinful life, with His own life." 
 
 " What d He do thet fer ? "
 
 250 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Same reason I went your bail and got you work 
 three or four times." 
 
 " What was er ? " he said thickly. 
 
 "I thought there was something in you worth 
 saving. I wanted to save it, or to help save it." 
 
 " What was er ? " 
 
 " Your soul, Jim." 
 
 " That s too hot, parson. Can t hold er." 
 
 " But you must, Jim. Jesus Christ wants to save 
 you, and I do. I want to see the man that s in you 
 conie out." 
 
 "Ain t no man in me nowhere, parson. Ain t no 
 man." 
 
 " Yes, you are, Jim. There s a man in you, but it 
 will take three persons to get him out." 
 
 " Who be they ? " 
 
 " Jesus Christ, and you, and I." 
 
 " If that s Him, He s a good un. But e ain t up to 
 you. He ain t no better nor you." 
 
 " Oh, yes, He is, Jim. I would not be good as you 
 say I am, except for Him. All that I am He has 
 made me." 
 
 " Hold on, parson. Don t curve em so." Presently 
 he added, " I m goin now." 
 
 "Not yet, Jim: you ve not told me yet why you 
 came here to-night." 
 
 " Wai, I was strapped." So the pitiful story started, 
 as Jim dropped back into his chair. " When I came 
 out o Sing Sing, they axed me whar I b longed. I 
 told em Greenton. They found out the railroad and 
 stage fare, an they gin me three seventy-five to git 
 ere, an fifteen dollars that I d earned by bein good. 
 Just as soon as I got out o the gate, a feller walked 
 up, and he sez, Hello, pard ; been expectin ye. Yer
 
 JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS 251 
 
 name s Mike, ain t it ? No, sez I, it s Jim. Oh, 
 yes, sez he, sure nough Jim. Now, Jim Jim 
 what, did yer say ? Jim Garvey, sez I. Oh, yes, 
 I remember, sez he. Now, Jim Garvey, come right 
 over to my house. We re waitin to see ye. An he 
 
 / t/ 
 
 took me over to his saloon. I hadn t had nothin to 
 drink in two year. He gin me a ball, an I offered 
 to pay, but he said no, that was his treat. Then he 
 gin me another. Next thing I knowed, I was out in 
 the country, in a barn, on the hay. Strapped didn t 
 hev a cent. I got inter the road begged some break 
 fast at a house then went on trampin an beggin . 
 Walked most o the way up here. Been two days 
 walkin from Troy. Come back to the old town 
 cause there wan t nowhere else ter go. Went ter 
 Bob s, ter see ef I couldn t beg a drink o gin, an Bob 
 ain t got no gin, cause he ain t got no bar. Bob says 
 he s got pious. I couldn t go thet racket. Then I 
 come over here ter ask yer how much I owed yer fer 
 skippin my bail." This was the first sign I had ever 
 seen of anything like gratitude or humanity in him. 
 
 " Let that go, Jim : you can never pay that. But 
 do you know, if the police find you here, they ll have 
 you up on the old charge ? " 
 
 " No ! will they ? " A look of real terror came into 
 the face of the poor wretch. It was clear he wished 
 no more attention from the police. To his frightened 
 question I answered briefly, " Sure," and waited for 
 the full power of fear to shake him thoroughly. After 
 a few moments of thought : 
 
 " Parson," he said, " I ll git right out to-night." 
 He rose, with the purpose of escape full upon him. 
 
 " No, Jim." I laid a detaining hand on his arm. 
 " That means hell. That means more crime. You
 
 252 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 have no friend but me in this world. You ve got no 
 money. You ll steal, or worse." He could not deny 
 my prophecy. I went on with my pleading. " Stay 
 here, Jim. Go with me to Justice Wendell in the 
 morning. Give yourself up on the old charge. I ll 
 go with you. It ll be jail for a year. Go to jail, and, 
 when you come out, strike straight for me. Jinimie 
 MacNaughton and Bob Hazeltine and Justice Wen 
 dell and I will be your friends. If I m not here 
 when you get out, go to Jimmie. He ll find you work. 
 But you ve got to quit gin," I finished, decidedly. 
 " You ve got to do just as we four men say." 
 
 " Don t Bob drink no more ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not a drop." 
 
 " Don t Jimmie MacNaughton drink no more ? " 
 
 " Not a drop." 
 
 " What s made em break off ? What s happened to 
 em ? " 
 
 "Jesus Christ. He made them break off. lie s 
 happened to them." 
 
 " I can t git under thet ball, parson. Thet beats 
 me." Then he slouched down in his chair and was 
 silent. 
 
 For fifteen minutes the room was as still as an 
 uninhabited globe. I offered Jim a cigar, but he shook 
 his head. I saw what I had never seen before, a 
 besotted soul struggling for the first time with the idea 
 of self-surrender for the sake of good. At last he 
 roused up to say slowly : 
 
 " Parson, I ll stay ; I ll go to jail." 
 
 " Good, Jim ! good ! I ll stand by you," I cried. 
 "Now, I m going to make sure that you do it. I m 
 going to give you a bath and put you to bed here." 
 
 To this he objected somewhat, but my will was
 
 JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS 253 
 
 stronger than his and had its way. To the spare 
 room which had been my mother s pride, I took him, 
 and, after a hot bath in the bathroom opposite, he 
 went to bed clean, I suppose for the first time in 
 weeks. 
 
 But I was not yet assured of success in my plan. 
 That such a fellow would be likely to change his mind 
 was the natural thing to expect, and I felt a suspicion 
 that he would attempt to sneak out of the house after 
 all was quiet. I knew that Jim s only salvation lay in 
 the county jail and in Jimmie MadSTaughton s help 
 when his time was served, so I determined to prevent 
 his departure if he intended it. 
 
 In addition to all this, I had by no means forgotten 
 the night, more than two years ago, when he stole the 
 heirloom. That episode of the silver cup was a sore 
 spot with me, but if the merciful Christ would only 
 use me to save the soul of this wretched man, who, 
 in his own words, " had never had no chance," the 
 compensation would far outweigh the value of many 
 silver cups. 
 
 Just as I closed the door on him, I said : 
 
 " Jim, you played a very dirty trick on me in this 
 house long ago, when you stole my cup. Don t do it 
 again to-night. You see, I m trusting you once more. 
 I m giving you the best I have. Don t try to beat me 
 this time, Jim." 
 
 " I won t," he said. " I won t, so help me." 
 
 But I knew my man well by this time. 
 
 I listened carefully until I heard him go to bed. 
 Then I placed a chair by the door of his room and sat 
 down to wait. 
 
 One o clock came before any sound rewarded my 
 vigilance. Then I heard Jim astir. He was very
 
 254 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 quiet, and his tarrying lasted much longer than if he 
 had been engaged only in dressing. Finally I heard 
 a bureau drawer slide, and remembered what I had 
 hitherto forgotten, or I should not have put temptation 
 in his way. In one of the drawers of the bureau in 
 the spare room was a morocco case, containing the 
 jewelry that had been my mother s. Its value was 
 probably not more than five hundred dollars. 
 
 The drawer creaked shut. Then I heard other 
 noises, which I could only account for on the supposition 
 that Jim was making examinations for some means of 
 exit other than the door. Failing in this, however, 
 there came presently a stealthy turning of the knob, 
 and the door beside me opened. 
 
 " Are you sick. Jim ? " I asked solicitously. " Do 
 you want a doctor ? " 
 
 At sight of me, he was the picture of guilt and 
 despair. 
 
 " No, yer don t, parson," he groaned. " Yer know 
 I don t want no doctor. Yer been watchin , cause 
 yer guessed I d try ter run away. I didn t mean ter, 
 when I went ter bed, honest. But when a feller s 
 alone he weakens." 
 
 " All right, Jim," I said gently. " I was afraid of 
 just that, so I thought I d watch. I want to help you 
 to be a man, Jim, and I couldn t, if you ran away. 
 But," I added, " I never for a moment thought you d 
 steal ray mother s jewelry, until I heard you ransack 
 ing the bureau drawers." 
 
 "Tain t no use, parson," he cried, miserably. 
 " Tain t no use. Yer d better lemme go." 
 
 " No, Jim," I answered, firmly. " I made up my 
 mind long ago to save you, if I had the chance. Now, 
 God has given me the chance. But I can t do it, if
 
 JIM GARVEY REAPPEARS 255 
 
 you run off. I can, if you ll go back to bed now, and 
 to-morrow give yourself up to Justice Wendell." 
 
 The poor wretch had another struggle, standing 
 there in the hall, with my mother s jewelry in his 
 pocket. At last he burst out : 
 
 " I ll do her, parson ! I ll go back ter bed I will 
 I ll give myself up ter-morrer I will. I didn t mean 
 ter steal, when I went in there, parson. I didn t. 
 But I m bad," hopelessly. " If you peach, I ll get ten 
 years in Sing Sing, next time. Don t blow on me, 
 parson, n I ll quit stealin , I will." 
 
 " Give me what you ve taken that belongs to me, 
 Jim." He unloaded. From his pockets came rings, 
 bracelets, chains, pins, buckles, hair ornaments, all 
 inseparably connected with my mother and with my 
 own childhood. 
 
 Poor Jim ! he had never performed such an act of 
 self-abasement before in all his life. For the first time, 
 I think, he felt the sense of shame. I proceeded to 
 deepen it. 
 
 "Jim," I said, "the case I had them all in was 
 beautiful. Why did you not take that too ? " He 
 made no reply. " Did you leave that to pay me for 
 the supper and the bath, Jim ? " 
 
 Then he broke out : " Say, parson, don t rub her in 
 no furder. I can t stan it, I can t. I never seed no 
 body like you afore. I throw her up. I ll go to bed. 
 You needn t set up no more. I ll be here in the 
 mornin , an I won t steal nothin . I won t, so help 
 me " and the poor fellow swore a streak of oaths 
 that was appalling. They were his only safety valve. 
 
 I took him at his word and went to bed. In the 
 morning, when he was called for breakfast, he was 
 there in the spare room, fast asleep. He came down
 
 256 THE MAID OF HONOIl 
 
 presently. After we had eaten, we went together over 
 to Wendell s office, where he surrendered himself on 
 the old charge. Tim sent him to the lock-up until 
 court should meet in our county town in January. 
 When that time came he pleaded guilty, saved a trial, 
 and on the petition of Hazeltine, Wendell, Harfis, and 
 myself, the court gave him one year in the county 
 jail, instead of a longer term in the State prison. 
 Jiminie MacNaughton agreed that on the day Jim was 
 set free he would be at the jail door to take him in 
 hand, and to keep him away from the sharks that are 
 always waiting for such carrion. When all this was 
 settled, we formed an association, whose members 
 were Wendell, Hazeltine, MacNaughton, and myself, 
 and whose purpose was to bring Jim Garvey to his 
 lost manhood.
 
 XXII 
 
 THREE LETTERS 
 
 CHRISTMAS was coming on very rapidly, and 
 there were certain things to be made ready 
 for that holiday time which the maid of honor 
 could execute better than any other person. To 
 engage her services made a letter necessary, and 
 though the experiment was a risk, I decided to try the 
 one and take the other. But to write the letter was 
 not easy. It would be my first to the woman I loved, 
 and I did not wish it to be the last. After some futile 
 attempts, I wrote as follows : 
 
 " MY DEAR MAID OF HONOR : 
 
 " I trust my title for you will awake the same 
 pleasurable memories as are mine w y hen I think of our 
 meeting at St. David s. 
 
 " I am writing to you because Christmas is approach 
 ing, and I am anxious to give a little Christmas to 
 Tom, my legacy to you. I inclose a little sum of 
 money, and wish with it you would buy for him a 
 Bible with good coarse print. I want him to have a 
 pair of warm mittens to wear to Sabbath-school, and 
 a coarser woolen pair for every day. If you see any 
 thing else you think he will need, and there is money 
 left, please buy him what your sense of the fitness of 
 things dictates, and tell him the things are from a 
 friend. You need not tell him who I am, for he will 
 not know. 
 
 " I should be glad to know by and by if Tom comes 
 to the mission steadily. I am, 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 " THE BEST MAN OF ST. DAVID S." 
 257
 
 258 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 There yet remained some things to be done, sug 
 gested by my sincere desire for Tom s betterment, 
 which the maid of honor could not do. His shanty 
 home must be repaired. A new sill for the entrance 
 was sadly needed ; a door with only one hinge was 
 almost worse than none ; while a house from whose 
 windows the panes of glass were gone would make 
 but a cheerless Christmas, no matter how many Bibles 
 might be given to Tom. Elder Harfis was still in 
 Grandview, and I knew that if Joe would once take 
 him to that pitiful home, he would gladly pay the cost 
 of doing the things needed to make it more livable. 
 So another letter went to Joe, containing these sug 
 gestions and a request that the work should be done 
 before Christmas day. 
 
 With these matters satisfactorily arranged, my 
 attention was turned once more to the work in Green- 
 ton. For the first time in a pastorate of more than 
 four years, a restless and feverish spirit held me. The 
 idea of a call to Duqueboro was always in my mind. 
 I definitely wanted that call, although the largeness 
 of the place which the thought had made for itself 
 in my mind annoyed me. To leave my boyhood s 
 home my father s and my mother s graves the 
 church which had grown from a small one of three 
 hundred members to a large one of more than eight 
 hundred Tim Wendell Elder Harfis to leave all 
 this would cost me many a pang. And yet I wanted 
 to go. Duqueboro was attractive because of Hender 
 son. The eccentric, warm-hearted, altogether singu 
 lar Scotchman had become very dear to me. 
 
 All through the holiday season, my work was done 
 feverishly, half-heartedly. With each day s mail, I 
 looked for two letters which did not come. One
 
 THREE LETTERS 259 
 
 would have borne the postmark " Grand view," and 
 the other, "Duqueboro." Finally, when my hot blood 
 had made my nerves too unsteady for work, to end 
 the suspense I wrote to Henderson. I told him first 
 the story of Jirn Garvey. With this as preliminary 
 I came at last to the only things for which the letter 
 had been begun. 
 
 " You are a Scotchman," I wrote. " You did me 
 all up on the Grand view excursion. I can see now 
 what all your moves meant. The visit to Duqueboro, 
 Miss Julia s need of an escort to Grandview, the delay 
 to the end of the week, were part of a plan to land 
 me in Grandview and bring me face to face with 
 your girl, who was also my girl, which you knew and 
 I did not. The Social Union was a ruse, too. You 
 wanted to make me tell that story before your Pres 
 byterians so as to make an impression on some who 
 did not hear me preach that Sunday. You took 
 mighty good care next day that I shouldn t see the 
 morning paper with its red headlines. I bought one 
 of a newsboy on the train, and I have that wonderful 
 article pasted in my scrap-book for my children to 
 read. But you failed, I doubt, as you love to say, 
 in both your games. The girl had discounted me long 
 ago, and the Kir Jear Church discounts me now. You 
 played me as you did the big trout at Greenton, and 
 you landed me on the Grandview porch all right; 
 beyond that, you failed. But I ll give you credit for 
 sense about a woman s beauty. She is beautiful. 
 She s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. 
 
 " Strange, about that girl. Three different men 
 pick out a girl for me to marry, and each of them 
 vows she is the most beautiful girl he knows. When 
 I get the thing sifted down to the facts, lo and be-
 
 260 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 hold, she is the very same girl. Harry wants me to 
 marry Phyllis s maid of honor. You want me to 
 marry Julia s beautiful friend. Joe Smith wants me 
 tp marry his lovely mission Sabbath-school teacher. 
 You want me to marry her : Joe wants me to marry 
 her : Harry wants me to marry her : I want me to 
 marry her. We re all agreed, except the girl : she 
 doesn t want me to marry her. 
 
 " Oh, she was nice enough : she couldn t help her 
 self. But I made no conquest. She has a constant 
 attendant, a man called Fraser, not in the least worthy 
 of her. When you see Harry Sinclair, tell him that 
 the maid of honor is more than a match for the 
 Rev. Joseph Smith and the Rev. Dr. Henry Sinclair 
 and David Henderson, Esq. 
 
 " You ve missed on the church scheme, too. Those 
 headlines killed me. In Green ton I Avas born, and 
 here I ll stay and work and die. My bachelor home 
 is good enough for any man, and with it I will be 
 content. Come out in April, and we ll try the trout. 
 
 " With affection yours, 
 "THE No BENEDICTION PREACHER." 
 
 To post that letter was a grim satisfaction. There 
 would be an answer from Henderson, of course, which 
 would in some way settle several things. So I waited 
 with quieter nerves. 
 
 That same twentieth day of January, one year to a 
 day since my receipt of the memorable letter from 
 Harry Sinclair, in Rome, was signalized not only by 
 the posting of my epistle to Henderson, but by the 
 coming in the evening mail of a letter from Grand view, 
 whose superscription, alas, had been written by the 
 hand of Joe Smith. Before the reading of it was
 
 THREE LETTERS 261 
 
 finished, disappointment at the familiar handwriting 
 had given way to delight at its contents. 
 Joe began in his own way : 
 
 " OLD BOY : 
 
 " You think you re smart. Well, so do I. You 
 beat me on the girl game. I m not in the play when 
 you begin. I ve been too busy with Christmas cele 
 bration and the Week of Prayer in January and 
 a blessed revival that followed in the mission, to write 
 letters even to so good a friend as you. But now I ve 
 come to a breathing place, and I ve a great story to 
 tell you. Your letter about Tom s home came all 
 right, and the day before Mr. Harfis went home we 
 walked down there. He was horrified. He did not 
 suppose there could be such squalor and misery in the 
 centre of our American life. We found out who 
 owned the place, and Harfis never rested until he 
 cornered the owner and bought the shanty for one 
 thousand dollars. Then he gave me orders to look 
 after the repairs. The day after he returned to 
 Greenton, I started a contractor at the work of repair 
 ing the house, and the first person I met, as the con 
 tractor and I stepped into the house, was my mission 
 school teacher, the girl I wanted you to see and who 
 wasn t at the school. Oh, you fraud ! I was sur 
 prised, and so was she. She spoke first. Women 
 always do. How do you happen to be here, Mr. 
 Smith ? Oh, I came to look after the wants of a 
 new mission scholar who was in school last Sunday. 
 Was the scholar one that you found and brought 
 into the school ? she said. l Oh, no ; nobody found 
 him, I answered. He came in and dropped down 
 into the first inviting place. I had a friend here over
 
 202 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Sunday, a preacher from Greenton, and he had your 
 class, got interested in this boy, and went home with 
 him after school. He came back to my house to 
 dinner and told me what a wretched place the boy 
 came from, and after he got home he wrote me to go 
 down and look after some repairs and have them 
 made before Christmas. But what brought you down 
 here ? She laughed and said, That same man, your 
 preacher friend. He wrote asking me, too, to provide 
 some little things for Tom s Christmas, and he sent 
 the money for them, so I came to see what else might 
 be needed. Then I said, too astonished to believe I 
 had heard aright, Do you know the Greenton 
 preacher ? Oh, yes, said she, he was Miss Hender 
 son s escort, and dined with us Saturday night, and 
 spent Sunday evening, after coming from your house. 
 I whistled. You seem amused, said she. I am, 
 said I. Why didn t he tell me he knew you? 
 4 Was there any reason why he should tell you ? she 
 said. And there she had me. I couldn t tell her 
 what the reason was. I said, Did you think he was 
 nice ? She laughed and answered, Yes, Mr. Smith, 
 I have always thought that, ever since I first knew 
 him. Then I was at sea worse than ever. I 
 blundered along, First knew him ? Have you known 
 him before now ? Why, yes, she answered, he 
 was best man at a wedding where I was maid of 
 honor, more than two years ago. 
 
 " Say, boy, you beat the whole combination ! But 
 why in the name of all the old Greek gods and 
 goddesses you didn t go after that girl when it would 
 have done you some good, I can t understand. I m 
 afraid it s too late now. Bruce Fraser is around here 
 all the time every Saturday night and Sunday.
 
 THREE LETTERS 263 
 
 Dr. Fraser is one of the best, but the son is bad all 
 through. I hear he has said if you don t keep away 
 from here he ll throw you into the river some night. 
 Helen says Miss Leaven worth doesn t care for Bruce, 
 but I m afraid the matter has gone too far. 
 
 " I must stop. Tom s going to have a comfortable 
 home, and he comes regularly to mission school every 
 Sunday afternoon. 
 
 " Good-bye, old man. You beat Henderson all 
 hollow. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "JOE." 
 
 Even with that letter, with its information regard 
 ing my lady s favor, the end had not been reached of 
 the things capable of making me happy, that grew out 
 of my visit to Grandview. The most blessed event of 
 my life was my discovery of Tom. Two days later a 
 letter came from Grandview, the letter that had been 
 so anxiously awaited. My custom was to open the 
 mail as I walked home from the post-office, but this 
 morning saw a departure from that custom. I put the 
 letter into my pocket unopened, to remain there until 
 I reached my easy chair before the study fire. My 
 excitement was beyond anything ever caused by a 
 letter before. 
 
 To transcribe its words from memory is easy. A 
 second and a third reading fastened its contents in my 
 heart. This is what the peerless lady wrote : 
 
 " MY DEAR BEST MAN OF ST. DAVID S : 
 
 " As that is the form of your signature, I sup 
 pose that is the way in which you would be addressed. 
 Your letter written before Christmas was welcome, 
 since it gave me an opportunity to do a little good. I
 
 264 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 bought the Bible for one dollar, two pairs of mittens 
 for one dollar and a quarter, three pairs of socks for 
 seventy-five cents. I also bought a pair of heavy 
 shoes for two dollars. That just used up the money 
 which you so kindly sent. 
 
 " I have heard from Mr. Smith of the purchase of 
 the place where Tom lives, and of the repairs which 
 are in progress. Mr. Smith said that this also was 
 prompted by your thoughtfulness. You would have 
 full reward could you see the happiness that has come 
 to the mother, and the different look that may already 
 be seen in Tom s face. I had a real joy on the Sunday 
 that I gave him the Bible. He is the most stupid and 
 stolid soul I have ever seen. On that same day I had 
 had an experience with him which utterly disconcerted 
 me. That was before I gave him the Bible. The 
 Sunday after you were here, I gave Tom a lesson paper 
 and told him two or three times over what it was for 
 and how to use it. I read the Golden Text and had 
 him read it also. I asked him to learn it by heart. 
 Well, he came next Sunday, and when I tried him, 
 here is what resulted : 
 
 " Tom, what is the Golden Text ? 
 
 " I dunno. 
 
 " "Why, yes, Tom, you must know; can t you 
 think ? 
 
 " I dunno. 
 
 " Why, Tom, it begins, " Though I am poor " 
 what comes next, Tom ? 
 
 " < I dunno. 
 
 " Have you studied the lesson, Tom ? 
 
 " No answer. 
 
 " * Have you, Tom ? 
 
 " No answer.
 
 THREE LETTERS 265 
 
 " "Why don t you answer me, Tom ? 
 
 " I dunno. 
 
 " Have you studied the lesson at all, Tom ? 
 
 " A shake of the head and a muttered inarticulation 
 was his only response. 
 
 " Why did you not study, Tom ? 
 
 " I dunno. 
 
 " I gave up utterly defeated, wholly despairing, and 
 wishing your legacy was with its giver ; to my further 
 annoyance, the rest of the boys were laughing at my 
 failure. But when toward the close of the hour I gave 
 Tom the Bible, I had a little compensation. He was 
 really pleased. He took it, leaned forward as if he 
 would speak, mumbled something probably intended 
 for thanks, and subsided into silence. I asked him if 
 he would try to read that Bible, and he answered, I 
 dunno. Since then he has been regularly in the 
 school, and he washes his hands and face before coming. 
 You were pleased to call this boy your legacy to me. 
 I have described what I have done thus far with the 
 trust. Thanking you for the opportunity you have 
 given me of showing a kindness in your name to this 
 poor soul, 
 
 " I am yours sincerely, 
 
 " THE MAID OF HONOR." 
 
 It was near to ten o clock in the morning, when the 
 reading of that letter was finished. The clock struck 
 eleven, and found me still seated before the fire, with 
 the letter in my hand. The clock struck twelve, 
 finding me still there, with the letter in my hand. 
 Presently there came a call to luncheon, which 
 broke my revery. After the meal, I made a 
 careful copy of the letter, went up to the spare
 
 266 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 room, took out the morocco case of jewels, laid the 
 original in the case, locked it in securely, carried the 
 whole down to the city bank, rented a safe deposit 
 box, a thing I had never thought of when there was 
 only jewelry to protect, and placed therein my treas 
 ures. There is no question but that I was in love. 
 The girl had written no word that looked at all as if 
 she cared for me, and yet ! 
 
 My pastoral calls that afternoon were poor affairs. 
 Before my vision was always the maid of honor. 
 "When the afternoon had passed, and I reached home, 
 I found a telegram awaiting me from Henderson. It 
 read: 
 
 "Called unanimously to Kir Jear Church. Salary 
 four thousand, and house. Wait letter. 
 
 " HENDERSON. 
 
 The letter came next day. Henderson wrote for the 
 session. 
 
 " DEAR PASTOR To BE : 
 
 " The session has asked me to communicate to 
 you the action of the congregational meeting. 
 
 " The reason why it was not held earlier was the 
 coming of Christmas and the week of prayer. You 
 know the week of prayer is the most important week 
 of the whole year. That is the week in which all the 
 churches have agreed that God is around, if He ever 
 is. He doesn t have anything else to do that week but 
 listen to prayers. He has a hard time hearing prayers 
 in Kir Jear Church, I doubt, for only Major Ardman, 
 and the old colored janitor, and a little lawyer named 
 Brush, ever pray. I pray, of course, but I don t like
 
 THREE LETTERS 267 
 
 to pray every night. But the week of prayer is ortho 
 dox, and it always has been held in Kir Jear Church, 
 and it always must be. What s orthodox has to go, 
 whether it does any good or not. When the week of 
 prayer was over, we were all pretty nearly worn out, 
 but we called the congregational meeting. 
 
 " The first thing to be done after they had elected rne 
 chairman was to hear the report of the committee on 
 finding a pastor. I announced that as the first order 
 of business, but before Lewis Jordan could get to his 
 feet, a little man rose and said, I move the committee 
 on finding a pastor be discharged. They have been 
 going all over, spending our money for a year, and it 
 was all no good. A chance man comes along, as the 
 chairman s guest, and he pleased everybody. I move 
 we call that man. Then another man hopped up and 
 said, Was that the man with the red head 
 
 " No, sir, it ain t, said the little man. My man s 
 head ain t red. It s blacker than yours. I move we 
 call him. Wait till I get through, said the other man. 
 Is he the man with the red headlines in the Clarion ? 
 
 " Then I told em the Clarion stuff was a pack of 
 lies, and I set you up in good shape. Jordan seconded 
 the little man s motion, and we took a ballot. You 
 got every vote that wasn t cast for some other man. 
 Then a motion was made to make the call unanimous, 
 with four thousand and a house. They passed that 
 with a big noise. 
 
 " Now, you re going to have a house. And you 
 can t live in a house without a wife. So you see 
 you ve got to marry the girl I found for you. You 
 say she don t care for you. Man, she s only waiting 
 for you to ask her whether she does or no. You 
 thought I didn t know before who was the girl you
 
 268 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 were so dead in love with. Why, man, I knew that 
 night at your mother s table. I knew who Phyllis s 
 maid of honor was, at the time of the wedding. You 
 can t fool a Scotchman. I would have had you landed 
 long ago, if your lovely mother hadn t gone away so 
 unexpectedly. I ve had my own time with you. Now, 
 I want you married. 
 
 " Julia s a credit to her Scotch father. She knew 
 all about you and the Grand view girl, when you and 
 she went east. She told me how you acted on the 
 porch that night. She fooled you. She told me about 
 that letter you wrote about Tom. Those two girls 
 saw right through that whole performance. You re 
 nothing but an ostrich, with your head in the sand, 
 thinking because your foolish top is out of sight, your 
 unco tall body is too and the two lassies standing by, 
 laughing. 
 
 " But there s one thing Julia don t like. There s a 
 man she calls the Fraser man hanging around there 
 too much. He s Dick Leavenworth s manager. He 
 spends every Saturday night and Sunday in that town. 
 I don t know what he is, but Julia don t like him, and 
 I ve picked that girl out for you. If you let that man 
 make off with her, I ll never let you preach in 
 Duqueboro. 
 
 " Run down the river, lad. Don t go talking about 
 love, and laying your heart at her feet, and all such 
 nonsense. Just tell her Davie Henderson sent you 
 down to marry her, and have done with it. Then 
 obey the Book, and shake off the dust of your feet 
 against Greenton or I should say snow, I doubt. Tell 
 Harfis I m robbing him of a preacher that you may 
 fulfill the Scriptures, for how could you go into all 
 the world and preach the gospel, if you staid in that
 
 THREE LETTERS 209 
 
 little country town ? Tell the infidel I m evening up 
 with him now for tipping me into the water. We ll 
 console him every spring, for we ll go back to that 
 bonnie river, and I ll show him how to cast a fly so 
 the trout will rise. Or, if you can get Harfis, and 
 Jimmie MacKaughton, and Bob, and Wendell, all to 
 come with you, we ll make em all elders in Kir 
 Jear. 
 
 " Come on, now. Get together your congregation ; 
 call your presbytery ; ask for your dissolution ; make 
 your church call Joe Smith ; and everybody ll be happy. 
 That s all now. 
 
 " DAVID HENDEKSON." 
 
 My first move after receiving this remarkable letter 
 was to drive to Salisbury, the county seat, to see Jim 
 Garvey. Not much persuasion was required to induce 
 the sheriff to let me see his prisoner alone. Jim was 
 full of joy at sight of me. I said to him : 
 
 " Garvey, when you leave this jail I will not be in 
 Greenton. But Jimmie MacNaughton and Mr. Harfis 
 and Mr. Wendell, and Mr. Hazeltine will be there, and 
 there will be a new preacher in my place who s a better 
 man than I ever was, for he knows all about drunks 
 and toughs generally." 
 
 To which he replied, " Cut her out, parson. There 
 ain t no better man nor you be, livin ." 
 
 " Thank you for the good opinion, Jim," I said. 
 " But I m telling you the truth, and you ll say so, 
 some day." 
 
 Jim looked more like a man, that day, than ever 
 before. The jailer agreed to let Squire Wendell 
 know all about him, and on what day next winter he 
 would be discharged. Then, having driven home, my
 
 270 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 next duty was to tell Tim Wendell of all that had 
 occurred. He looked at me a moment. 
 
 " Dominie," he said, " that s a good call. The time 
 comes to almost every minister when he has to change 
 his field of labor. That time has come to you. 
 You ll go, of course. But I tell you, and I hope you ll 
 remember some day that I said it, you re going away 
 from home. There s not another Greenton River in 
 the Union. There s not another Bob Hazeltine and 
 Charlie. There s not another Jimmie MacNaughton. 
 
 There s not " But before he went any further, I 
 
 rose and grasped his hand. I said, " You ve been a 
 good friend to me, and what you have said is all true, 
 but you have not said it all : there s not another Tim 
 Wendell on earth." 
 
 There was silence for a few minutes. Then Tim 
 said, " But, Dominie, it s probably best, and we ll call 
 Joe Smith for our pastor. There s only one Joe 
 Smith, and he s the only man that s fit to stand in 
 your place."
 
 XXIII 
 ON THE THRESHOLD AT DUQUEBORO 
 
 IT was the second Tuesday of April. The presby 
 tery had met that day, and the business in con 
 nection with dissolving one pastoral relation and 
 constituting another had moved with such celerity that 
 the only break in the pastorate of Greenton Church 
 had been from eleven in the morning until three in the 
 afternoon. Presbytery had not dismissed me, but had 
 elected me commissioner to the General Assembly to 
 meet in Grandview in May. Joe and I sat together in 
 the study. 
 
 " Well, Joe," I said, " I m out, you re in, and it 
 seems like a dream. Do you remember the first 
 address you made in the old church ? " 
 
 " That s what I do. It was the best I ever made." 
 
 " Yes, in some respects it was. But you are vastly 
 superior as a preacher now to what you were then, 
 and I think a career is beginning for you here." 
 
 " Career don t bother me," he said. " It s conduct 
 I am after." 
 
 " Joe, do you like this house ? " I went abruptly at 
 the thing I had in mind. 
 
 " Sure : I ve had some great hours in this house." 
 
 " Well, you ll have more great hours here, for here s 
 where you and Helen are going to live. I ve deeded 
 this house to you and Helen." 
 
 Joe jumped up and pulled me out of my chair. 
 
 271
 
 272 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Now for the old grip of the old fraternity, Jack," he 
 cried. " To Helen and me ? Why, you re crazy, man." 
 
 " No, I m not. I want the church to remember my 
 mother and me. So this house is yours until you 
 leave it. When you go elsewhere, you must deed it to 
 the session not to the trustees, but to the session 
 of Greenton Presbyterian Church, to be used as a resi 
 dence by whoever is the pastor. All this is in the 
 deed. Should you fail to do all that is specified in 
 the deed, the property will revert to me or my heirs. 
 But you cannot alienate it." With that I handed him 
 the deed. 
 
 " But say, old man," he remonstrated, " you can t 
 afford to do this." 
 
 " No matter ; I ve done it," I answered. " Will you 
 do your part when the time comes ? " 
 
 " Sure." And his hearty hand-clasp expressed, 
 better than halting words, his sincere thanks. 
 
 "Then, when you have moved in, you and Helen, 
 will you have this picture hung over the mantel in the 
 dining-room ? " I stepped across the room and drew 
 away a drapery from a window. Leaning against 
 the window-sill was an oil painting of my mother, 
 which the curtain had kept concealed. Joe was on 
 his feet again instantly, and standing before the 
 picture. 
 
 " Dominie," he cried, " that s beautiful ! That is just 
 as she looked the night Elder Harfis and I had our 
 meeting." 
 
 " Yes, Joe, it s a good portrait. Now, I want you 
 to hang it as I say. The name by which this whole 
 town knew her is engraved on the plate at the bottom 
 of the frame." 
 
 Joe stooped and read, "Aunt Caroline." "That s
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD AT DUQUEBORO 273 
 
 right," be said, "that s what she was. And while I 
 live here, Aunt Caroline shall look down on every 
 soul that enters the dining-room. Anything more ? " 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "one thing more, Joe. The 
 worst human, or unhuman, that this town ever pro 
 duced, is Jim Garvey. He s in the county jail now. 
 I ve given you the house, now I ll give you this 
 wretch. He ll come out of jail next January, and 
 Jimmie MacNaughton s to meet him the day he comes 
 out, and bring him here. The last place he slept, 
 before he went to jail, was my spare room. The first 
 place in which he s to sleep, after he comes out of jail, 
 must be that spare room. Helen won t like that," I 
 went on, " but it s what I want. You do that, and 
 you ll have one more star in your crown, Joe, for I m 
 convinced that it will be the last thing necessary to 
 bring him to righteousness. That room saw him. take 
 his first steps toward God. That room may be the 
 place where he will take the final steps toward God. 
 Will you do it, Joe ? " 
 
 " Yes, old boy, I ll do it. But you are away beyond 
 me with your Toms and your Jims." 
 
 " I think, Joe, you can save him," I answered. 
 " Harfis and Wendell, Bob and MacNaughton, are a 
 committee to look after him, with you as chairman. 
 They understand already." Then I told him the whole 
 story, and ended by asking, " Will you undertake the 
 trust, Joe ? " And the great-hearted fellow cried in 
 answer, " Yes, yes, yes ; I ll undertake the trust." 
 
 Major Ardman met me at the station on my arrival 
 in Duqueboro. " You are going to be our guest for 
 a while," he explained. " Felix will be married next 
 week, and Mrs. Ardman says she wants company.
 
 274 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 You ll stay until after General Assembly." So, com 
 fortably housed, I began a long and happy pastoral 
 life. 
 
 The wedding was like all such affairs. There was 
 much bustle of preparation, much coming and going, 
 much fluttering among the young people, and at last 
 it was over. The central point of interest in it for me 
 was not the bride. As I said the solemn service, my 
 thoughts were busy with the radiant figure of the 
 bride s maid of honor; but I could not get the view 
 of her loveliness that I had enjoyed at St. David s. 
 My eyes were perforce fixed on Julia and Felix. For 
 two whole days I had been in and out at the Hen 
 derson home, but had hardly the satisfaction of a 
 word with her. She was almost as distant in manner 
 as at any time in the past two years. But just as 
 good-nights were being said by the guests, after Felix 
 and Julia had gone, she advanced with a word to me. 
 " I would like very much to talk with you about 
 Tom," she said. 
 
 " Does that mean I may call before you go home ? " 
 I made haste to answer. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " but you ll have to call to-morrow, 
 if at all, for I start for home the next day." 
 
 But to make that call before the evening of the next 
 day was impossible. The preparation necessary for 
 my first prayer-meeting with the new church wholly 
 engrossed me. When the hour for that arrived, there 
 came with it a clear realization that Wendell had 
 spoken the truth when he said, " You are going away 
 from home." My case was one of unmistakable home 
 sickness in that meeting, my embarrassment being 
 increased by the presence of the girl with Henderson. 
 I was glad she was there ; yet, at the same time, I
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD AT DUQUEBORO 2V5 
 
 wished her far away. Nothing of that service remains 
 in my memory, save Henderson s speech just before 
 the close. " We have a new pastor," he said in his 
 abrupt way, " and new pastors dinna come every night, 
 I doot. Good new pastors are as scarce as black 
 berries in January. But be our new one guid or bad, 
 there s only ae thing to do by him, that s to stand by 
 him. I shall stand by him. I always stand by my 
 pastor, right or wrang, especially if he s right." 
 
 Henderson and the maid of honor and I walked 
 down the street together. At his door, Henderson 
 said, " I ll leave you young things to yer loneselves ; 
 I ve business for a while." As we passed into the 
 parlor, the realization came over me that this was the 
 first time, in more than two years of acquaintance, 
 that we two had been alone together as friends. She 
 began the conversation at once. 
 
 " I somewhat expected you this afternoon, since 
 you were good enough to say last night you would 
 like to talk with me about Tom." 
 
 There was finesse in that speech. She put the 
 burden of that interview off on me in an exceedingly 
 clever way, though it was she herself who had pro 
 posed talking about Tom. 
 
 I said nothing of what I thought, however, but 
 replied, " Yes, I m glad you have given me an oppor 
 tunity to talk about Tom. But parish matters occu 
 pied me so, that until after the meeting it was impos 
 sible to give any time even to so interesting a subject. 
 But I am yours now, to hear whatever interests you, 
 for it will surely interest me." 
 
 " You discovered Tom, you know, or he discovered 
 you," she said. " Your story, told that Sunday night 
 last December to Julia and me, made such a deep
 
 276 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 impression that I would have visited Tom anyway, 
 had you not written me about him. But I wondered 
 whether you had forgotten him by this time." 
 
 " Oh, no, I haven t forgotten him, but I ve been 
 very much taken up with preparations for removing 
 from Greenton." 
 
 " I know you must have been busy," she said, " but 
 we can talk a little about Tom now, can we not ? I 
 want to talk about him." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " I ll talk about him gladly ; or 
 rather I ll hear you talk about him." 
 
 " The first month he came to the class I didn t know 
 what to do," she began. " He could not learn. The 
 other boys considered him a joke, and when they 
 laughed at his efforts he would relapse into absolute 
 silence. 
 
 " I decided to take them, one at a time, to his house, 
 and show them how and where he lived. After that, 
 they didn t laugh much. They helped." 
 
 " Does he learn the Golden Texts yet ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Yes, he has accomplished that. The first time he 
 recited one correctly, and I praised him, there came to 
 his face the first look of self-satisfaction that probably 
 ever crossed it. That made me very happy. I came 
 very near writing to you about that." 
 
 " I wish you had," I said earnestly. 
 
 It was delightful to watch her face as she continued. 
 Her flashing eyes and changing color were so charm 
 ing that to keep my lips from uttering what my 
 pounding heart was forging on love s anvil, was almost 
 impossible. When at last she paused, I said, " You 
 have been doing a great work, and it will bear fruit. 
 Tom will be a means of grace to those other boys, or 
 J am mistaken. But do you think he has any compre-
 
 OX THE THRESHOLD AT DUQUEBORO 277 
 
 heiision of what the mission school means ? Does he 
 care for the things you teach ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I think so. But I am often puzzled. 
 There cannot be much comprehension when he recites 
 a text as he did once, The Lord wrote spectacle 
 mirrors by the hands of Paul. 
 
 " That was funny. How did you keep from laugh- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Oh, I ve learned not to," she replied. "The boys 
 did laugh, in spite of me, when he said, Blessed is 
 that servant whom his Lord when he cometh shall 
 find washing. But I said, Boys, that is one of the 
 best texts Tom has ever learned. See how clean his 
 hands are to-day, and the smile that passed over the 
 poor fellow s face was lovely to see." 
 
 " Your story reminds me of one a friend of mine 
 told me once about an uneducated preacher among 
 the mountains of Kentucky. He was preaching against 
 the game of marbles as played by the boys. He 
 insisted that it was very demoralizing, teaching them 
 to gamble, and further than that he declared it was 
 contrary to the Scriptures, for the Book of God says, 
 Marble not. " 
 
 "We both laughed heartily, and then our talk drifted 
 to the deeper spiritual needs of poor Tom. I said all 
 I could to aid her in her purpose to help Tom, and her 
 outspoken appreciation made me very happy. 
 
 " You have comforted me greatly," she cried. " I 
 will go back to the mission with a purpose to wake 
 Tom to conscious need of Christ. I think he already 
 feels that need, though I can t quite tell. But I am 
 under lasting obligations to you. You will be in 
 Grandview at the General Assembly, Mr. Henderson 
 says, and I hope you ll visit the mission. I want you
 
 278 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 to see Tom perhaps you ll see a greater change in 
 him than I do, and you may then be able to tell what 
 further to do." 
 
 " I am not sure that I can tell you what to do 
 further in that direction," was my answer. But my 
 thought was, " I can tell you easily enough what I 
 wish you would do in another direction." And then, 
 in fear lest my tongue should get the better of my 
 judgment, I said good-night and good-bye.
 
 XXIV 
 
 GRANDVIEW ONCE MORE 
 
 HENDERSON and Major and Mrs. Ardman 
 stood with me at the Twenty-second street 
 pier in New York. General Assembly was 
 to convene next day in Grandview, and we were wait 
 ing for the boat that would carry us to our destina 
 tion. 
 
 " An ye never rode on the Mary Powell ? " 
 
 " No, I never did." 
 
 " Man, yer education was neglected, I doot. I m 
 only an American since my boyhood, but I ve made 
 the trip. The Rhine is finer after ye pass Coblentz. 
 Her banks have had the touch of the human hand 
 longer. But there s no Mary Powell on the Rhine." 
 
 Henderson knew how to touch the vibrant chord in 
 a human heart. 
 
 Every Hudson River dweller loves the old boat as 
 if it were his own. Presently she hove in sight, grace 
 ful as a swan. She came alongside the pier and we 
 went aboard. So quick and quiet were the stop and 
 start, her movement seemed almost automatic. I said 
 to the Major, " I half believe this boat could start and 
 make the run and all the landings from force of 
 habit, if there were never a man in her crew. Do you 
 suppose boats have souls, Major ?" No answer was 
 expected to that question, but Henderson had heard it. 
 
 " Losh, man," he said, " are ye daft ere ye reach 
 279
 
 280 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 Grandview ? What ll ye be when ye get there and 
 see yon girl ? " 
 
 " I m not going to see any girl," I replied. " I m a 
 commissioner to the Assembly, and that will take all 
 my time." 
 
 " But the Assembly doesna meet till the morrow, 
 and what s to hinder seein the girl the night ? " 
 
 " Only this : when she was at your house, she 
 spoke about my seeing that boy Tom at the mission 
 on Sunday, but she did not ask me to see her. And I 
 can t call until I m invited." And there Mrs. Ardman 
 relieved me. 
 
 " Mr. Henderson," she said, " I want Mr. Haynes to 
 go with me to the bow. The view is far too lovely to 
 waste time in talk." 
 
 We were fortunate to get two chairs very close to 
 the bow. The afternoon was perfect. Far over us in 
 the azure floated the great air-ships, God s wondrous 
 clouds, each laden with a precious freight of water for 
 a thirsting earth, and each sailing across and ever 
 across the vast space-ocean from horizon to horizon, 
 the distant view dimmed by the dreamy haziness of 
 budding spring. May is the greatest impressionist 
 painter of them all. How the bow cut the water ! 
 The severed edges of the liquid surface swept back 
 ward until the brawling paddle-wheels tore them, 
 broke them, scattered them, and strewed the frag 
 ments, beaten flecks of foam, in the long wake of the 
 swift steamer. Past the piers with their noisy life, 
 past the craft of various names, past the long rows of 
 buildings, past Spuyten Duyvil, past the green shores, 
 past Tarrytown where poor Major Andre paid the 
 penalty of too great fidelity to a government that 
 would stoop to potter with a traitor, past Sing Sing,
 
 GRANDVIEW ONCE MORE 281 
 
 with its frowning walls and their aggregation of lost 
 souls, the staunch vessel held her way, while each 
 rood left behind made one rood less between me and 
 the woman in whom my life hopes were centred, for 
 I knew I should see her, though I had put Henderson s 
 suggestion aside. That afternoon ride was a poem 
 vastly more beautiful because wordless. Both the 
 lady and I had grown silent under the spell of boat 
 and sky and river and mountain. It was Mrs. Ard- 
 man who first spoke. "Was ever anything more 
 beautiful ?" she said. Before I could answer, Hender 
 son came bustling up. " Come awa , man. Ye re 
 wastin time, dronin here. Was ye never in a boat 
 before, man ? There s commissioners on the boat. 
 Acquaintance is everything to a new man. Ye hae 
 no met Dr. Sandwich, I doot." His voice was cheery, 
 but my reply was gruff : " No ! I haven t. And that 
 I do not want to meet him just now, don t doubt. 
 Leave Mrs. Ardman and me to enjoy our poem for a 
 little time longer. I ll see all the men I want to see 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Your poem ? Losh, man, are ye daft ? Ye re 
 no readin ye ve no a buik. Come awa , man. 
 Let sic folly go. Come awa and see the Doctor." 
 With that, he seized my arm and carried me reluctant 
 away. 
 
 Dr. Sandwich was from the West. He was a little, 
 weazen-faced man, dark and wiry. When I had been 
 introduced to him, and he spoke, his voice astonished 
 me more than his appearance. It was hollow and 
 sepulchral, sounding as one would imagine a skeleton s 
 voice might. There are times when bows, hand 
 shakings, and the words which follow presentations 
 are safety valves for laughter. This was one of those
 
 282 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 times, though fears filled me lest the Doctor should 
 see that my bow and my words were tinctured with 
 amusement. Henderson saw the thoughts in my 
 mind, and took charge of the situation. 
 
 " Come, Doctor," he said. " Come, pastor ; let s go 
 to a quieter spot. We can talk better apart from the 
 throng, I doot." 
 
 I agreed eagerly, adding, " Let s go to the bow ; it s 
 quiet there, and lovely." My thought was, " Henderson 
 and Dr. Sandwich will do the talking, and I will have 
 another taste of my poem." 
 
 But that bliss was denied. Henderson s first words 
 were addressed to me. " I suppose ye ken that 
 Dr. Sandwich is a candidate for moderator o the 
 General Assembly ?" 
 
 How to answer was the problem. Dr. Sandwich 
 and his candidacy were as unknown to me as the 
 Choctaw language to King Solomon. But to say that 
 would doubtless give offense. So I answered, as I 
 thought, with tact, " The ambition to be moderator 
 has always seemed to me laudable The Doctor 
 
 was about to reply, but Henderson was too quick for 
 him. 
 
 " Losh, man, what has ambition to do with it ? 
 There s nothing laudable aboot ambition. It s shakin 
 the tree, and gettin the plum, that s laudable. 
 There ll be many candidates, I doot. I carena for the 
 candidates. It s the man who gets there, I like. 
 Most of the candidates will be cant-didates, I doot." 
 
 I looked at my elder in amazement. He had never 
 before attempted a pun in my presence. Curiosity as 
 to how the Doctor would take it filled me, but was 
 satisfied quickly. The deep, skeleton voice replied, 
 " You mistake, sir, about my being a candidate. I am
 
 GRANDVIEW ONCE MORE 283 
 
 not one, in any individual sense. My friends are the 
 real candidates. My synod and my presbytery are 
 the real candidates. They wish the honor for the 
 good it will do the cause of Christ in the section from 
 which I come. For that reason I should like your 
 vote, Doctor ah Doctor ah 
 
 I came to the rescue of his short memory. 
 
 " Let the titles go, Dr. Sandwich," I said. " I m 
 no doctor. I m plain John Haynes. I ve never been 
 to a General Assembly. You honor me by asking me 
 to support you, and if there are no other candidates, I 
 will gladly - 
 
 " Hoot, man ! to gie sic an answer as that to the 
 Doctor ! Of coorse there will be ither candidates, and 
 they ll a be like him, not candidates as individuals, 
 but only as representin the desires o their freends. 
 Can t ye see ? It s a peety for the Assembly, I wad 
 be thinkin ." 
 
 Henderson had made many speeches during our 
 acquaintance, but never one like that. It was so 
 shrewd a mixture of banter and earnest, and satire 
 that I found it difficult to keep a straight face. 
 
 Dr. Sandwich, too, looked somewhat puzzled ; but 
 Avhen he spoke he only said, " Well, Mr. Haynes, your 
 elder has told me you are a fine speaker, and if, when 
 you have learned who the other candidates are for 
 that is what your answer means, I suppose; you want 
 to know who are the candidates ere you decide if 
 after that you decide to support me," he hesitated, 
 cleared his throat, then went on, " I shall be delighted 
 to have you second my nomination. The Rev. Dr. 
 Blough, of my own synod, will nominate me. I 
 understand you are in the Assembly as a commissioner 
 from the Synod of New York, and my friends would
 
 284: THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 deem it most effective to have the Synods of Illinois 
 and New York united in the nomination 
 
 Just then relief came. The ship s bell began to toll 
 for her landing at West Point. Excusing myself and 
 finding Mrs. Ardman, we went back to our place in 
 the bow. No Sandwiches nor aught else could get 
 me away from that outlook. Into the lower gate of 
 the Highlands we sped, and through those waters so 
 sublimely environed by Dunderberg and Cro Nest, 
 and the lower Beacon Mountains. Then out at the 
 north gate and into Grand view Bay, where away above 
 sparkled the early lights of the city, which to me was 
 Mecca, though my feet were bent toward no dead 
 prophet s tomb, but the earthly paradise of a living angel. 
 
 Henderson came up as we watched the city, now so 
 very near, and with one of his indescribable looks 
 said, " Did ye like the sample I produced for ye of the 
 ways o the candidates ? That was only a nibble ye 
 had. Wait for the morrow, lad. Ye ll have a guid 
 bite before the noonday. But I gave ye a leetle 
 experience, I doot." 
 
 I spent the evening on the roof of the Balustrade, 
 enjoying the wonderful view from the parapet of the 
 roof pavilion. Just before bedtime Henderson came 
 up. "An it s here ye are hidin frae guid company. 
 I thought ye had gone to the Terrace until I saw Mr. 
 Dick. He said ye werena there. Ye said ye wadna 
 go till asked to ca , but I didna think ye were so silly 
 as to mean it." 
 
 " Well, I shall not go until I am invited," I said. 
 
 " Hoot, man ! Must I go an bring her to the 
 Balustrade, so she can say, Won t ye please ca , Mr. 
 Haynes ? "
 
 GRAND VIEW ONCE MORE 285 
 
 " Elder, when you fish for trout, do you expect 
 anyone to ask, Shall I bring you the trout on a 
 platter ? ere you get your rod together and your tackle 
 hung ? " 
 
 Slapping me on the back, he cried, " Lad, ye ll do. 
 But get the rod jointed an the tackle hung, 
 quick." 
 
 The General Assembly was organized next day. 
 Dr. Sandwich was not chosen moderator. Everything 
 moved in what I have since learned is the cut-and- 
 dried way. But there was one feature which only 
 Grandview could give: that was the Saturday afternoon 
 excursion to West Point by boat, and the return by 
 moonlight. Joe Smith had come down from Greenton, 
 bringing Helen, of course ; and Dr. and Mrs. Eraser, 
 with Joe and Helen for aids, had planned the whole 
 affair. Whatever these four undertook was sure to be 
 well done, and probably no General Assembly ever had 
 a more hilarious time than was ours that afternoon 
 after the battalion drill of the cadets was done, and 
 the commissioners and their hosts, the Grandview 
 ladies, had sat down to a basket lunch. Alice Leaven- 
 worth, Helen, Joe and I had our lunch together. In 
 the midst of the good time, Helen, turning abruptly 
 to me, said : 
 
 " Joe tells me you are to speak to-morrow night." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Henderson is to blame for that, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Where will you speak ? " asked the maid of honor. 
 
 " At the Assembly church," I answered. " They call 
 the night Experience Night, and I m to tell the story 
 of the Greenton revival." 
 
 " Oh, I m glad," said Helen. " Out of that revival 
 came my Joe and all my happiness."
 
 286 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Will your preparation keep you from the mission 
 in the afternoon ? " inquired the maid of honor. 
 
 " No, I think not," was my answer. 
 
 " Then I m glad," said she, " for I want you to see 
 Tom. You men in the Assembly seem so busy that 
 I was beginning to fear you would not see Tom at all." 
 
 As we were talking, David Henderson passed. 
 " Engaged, Dominie, I doot. If ye re no, I wad talk 
 wi ye." 
 
 " No, I m not engaged," I answered. 
 
 " Come awa , then. But, Alice, lass, ere I go, will 
 ye have an old man s escort to the great meetin the 
 morrow nicht ? There ll be guid speakin , I doot." 
 She accepted his courtesy, and having excused myself, 
 I went away with Henderson. 
 
 I saw no more of the maid of honor until just before 
 starting for Grand view. Then, to my amazement, she 
 was walking toward the boat landing with Bruce 
 Fraser. As we met he gave a careless nod, but she 
 passed without a sign of recognition. 
 
 There was no more peace for me. When we landed 
 at Grand view, I saw him take the maid of honor in a 
 carriage and disappear in the darkness. 
 
 To say I had a sleepless night would be false. No 
 care, no sorrow could keep the gentle goddess from 
 folding me to her breast when the hour for her sway 
 had come. 
 
 Sunday afternoon was spent partly at the mission, 
 and partly in walking home with Tom, who had im 
 proved in a very noticeable manner. He would not 
 yet talk much, but it was very plain that he appreciated 
 the things that had been done for him. My talk to 
 him was along the line of helping others. The story
 
 GRANDVIEW ONCE MORE 28T 
 
 of the man with one talent interested him greatly. 
 " Jesus wants effort, Tom, not results," I said. " When 
 He asks you some day, What did you do with your 
 talent ? if you can say, I did my best, He will say, 
 Well done. For, Tom, all that a man can do is his 
 best and Jesus knows that." 
 
 He took that in, and was turning it over in his 
 mind. But when I asked him if he would try to do 
 his best for Jesus, he said, " I dunno," in a manner and 
 tone which made me understand how that short answer 
 had almost paralyzed the maid of honor. 
 
 She had been in the mission that afternoon, and I 
 had been privileged to lead and to speak briefly. She 
 had listened with a face that was unreadable. As 
 Tom and I passed through the vestibule, where she 
 had preceded us, I told her that I was going home 
 with Tom. She answered, "I am glad of that. But 
 shall we not see you at our house also ? It would 
 please mother greatly." 
 
 " Present my compliments to your mother. It will 
 give me great pleasure to be in your home again. But 
 my days are quite occupied, and I presume you attend 
 the popular meetings in the evenings." 
 
 "I shall not go out to-morrow evening," she 
 answered. 
 
 " No ? Then I ll come to-morrow night," I said, and 
 putting my arm through Tom s, walked away. 
 
 As I rose to speak that night, my eyes roved over the 
 house in search of Henderson and the maid of honor, 
 but they were hidden somewhere by one of the great 
 stone columns. Major and Mrs. Ardman were close 
 to the platform, and they waited for me after the 
 meeting ended. As I walked down the aisle, I passed
 
 288 THE MAID OF HONOK 
 
 Bruce Fraser. To speak with him was only a gentle 
 man s part. 
 
 " How s old Sinclair ? " he asked. 
 
 " He was well at last reports." 
 
 "Mrs. Sinclair didn t seem to have much luck trying 
 to tie you to her maid of honor, did she ? " There 
 was a sneer in his tone, and beer on his breath. 
 
 " I don t understand you," I said. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you do. Do you suppose anyone will 
 believe that story you told to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes, every man that knows me will believe it," I 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, I know you, and I don t believe it." 
 
 " I m sorry you don t believe it, but none the less it 
 is true. Don t let s quarrel, Mr. Fraser." 
 
 " All right. You keep away from the Terrace and 
 we won t," he said, and slipped away into the night. 
 
 As I went through the vestibule, a familiar voice 
 said: 
 
 " Ye re too proud wi your fine talk to look at ordi 
 nary mortals, I doot." Turning, I confronted the 
 Scotchman and the girl. 
 
 " I hope you are not too very tired," she said. " But 
 if you are, the address was worth the cost." 
 
 Sleep was hard to woo that night, but she yielded to 
 me at last, and as we went together into dreamland, a 
 gentle voice seemed to say, " But if you are, the address 
 was worth the cost."
 
 XXV 
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 
 
 THAT Monday night was clear, warm, balmy, 
 with fragrance of lilacs and May flowers on 
 the air. The eastern veranda of Mrs. Leav 
 en worth s home commanded a full view of the river 
 and mountains. To that veranda we went presently, 
 and under the witchery of the moonlight all formality 
 vanished, and the conversation flowed now smoothly, 
 now rippling with laughter. 
 
 Our talk turned to the drives about Grandview. 
 Mr. Kichard Leavenworth advised me not to leave the 
 city without a sight of the beautiful surrounding coun 
 try. " You may never see this locality at close range 
 again," he said. To take his cue was easy. 
 
 " Nothing could be more enjoyable," I declared. 
 " If I can get an afternoon for such pleasure, I surely 
 will. Of course you have good horses in Grandview." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; good horses , fine , the summer people 
 make that necessary." 
 
 " Well, then, Mrs. Leavenworth, shall I have the 
 pleasure of a drive with you and Miss Leavenworth? 
 I will be glad to have you show me this lovely 
 country." 
 
 " Mr. Haynes, there are two parts to your question," 
 the mother answered. "To one of them I can reply 
 very quickly. But first I must ask another. Are you 
 familiar with horses ? " 
 
 "Ask Mr. Henderson," I replied. "He has had me 
 289
 
 290 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 fur driver. I am, or was, a country lad, and Greenton 
 is famous for its horses." 
 
 " Then," said she, " I can answer my part of your 
 question easily. I am too old to bear so long a drive 
 as you young people might like to take. So I think I 
 must decline. But my daughter can answer for 
 herself." 
 
 Whereupon I turned to the maid of honor. " Miss 
 Leaven worth," I said, " will you act as escort for me 
 for a drive, some afternoon ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will be escort, if you wish," she said, 
 emphasizing " escort." So I set Saturday for the 
 drive. 
 
 After that our conversation drifted along until by 
 some chance it touched on the scenes of the Civil War. 
 Mrs. Leavenworth was a good talker. She told how 
 her two sons had been soldiers. The elder, Richard, 
 had survived the war. Turning to him I said, " You 
 must have had many thrilling experiences." 
 
 " Yes, we did indeed." And then with deep 
 earnestness he gave the story of the Peninsular 
 campaign and the Seven Days battles. 
 
 Then the mother took up the story of her captain 
 son. A New York physician, when the war broke 
 out he volunteered, raised a company, and was chosen 
 captain. Down in the trenches in the swamp-lands 
 of the Chickahominy, the captain had fallen ill of the 
 dread fever that ever hung on the flanks of that 
 devoted Potomac Army. Down into the exposure and 
 horror of the camp this gentle woman had gone, to 
 battle with death for the life of her youngest son. 
 She had won in that fight, and carried her captain 
 home to Grandview. There on that very veranda, 
 while May and June days passed all too swiftly, the
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 291 
 
 captain regained his strength. The furlough ended, 
 he went back to the front. The fierce fighting around 
 Fredericksburg came on, and Burnside s mine was 
 sprung, with awful disaster to our troops. Among 
 the names of the thousands of those who there were 
 sacrificed, was that of Captain John Leaven worth. 
 The mother had snatched his life from the jaws of 
 disease, only to have it snatched from her again in the 
 moment of her happiness over her victory. 
 
 " Mr. Haynes," she said, " people call me unpa 
 triotic and hardened in spirit, because I say I hate 
 that war. I hate the memory of it. I hate the men 
 who made it, north and south. But I am a patriot ; 
 I love my country ; I love the soldiers ; I cannot see 
 one but I long to put my arms around him. When 
 Memorial Day comes next week, I shall hang the old 
 flag from my window, and shall think with loyal love 
 of the dead. I shall help lay flowers upon the graves 
 of soldiers who are buried here. But I hate war. I 
 shall never cease to hate war." 
 
 When Mrs. Leavenworth stopped talking, silence 
 fell upon us all. Alice Leavenworth was weeping. 
 But she was the one who finally broke the silence. 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Haynes," she said, "for having 
 asked you to call, and then allowing the conversation 
 to take so sad a turn. It is no doubt the influence of 
 the approach of Memorial Day. It always makes us 
 sad. It is the holiest day, and the saddest, of 
 the year. And now tell me what you think of 
 Tom." 
 
 I answered, glad for the opportunity to talk with 
 her about present-day matters. 
 
 " I think there s something in Tom that can be 
 saved. He s by no means the Tom he was when I
 
 292 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 found him, five months ago. He says I dunno, yet, 
 but that s not a sign of incapacity, but of diffidence 
 and inertia." 
 
 Her next question was a hard one. " Do you think 
 he is any better ? " 
 
 " Better than what ? " was ray evasive answer. 
 " Have you ever seen any evidence that he is, or has 
 been, bad ? Measuring him against other boys in the 
 mission, is he worse than they ? " 
 
 " No oh, no ; not so bad as most," was her reply. 
 " I ve never heard him swear. He has never been 
 ill-tempered. At his home he is helpful beyond all 
 expectation." 
 
 " Well, then," I asked again, " better than what ? " 
 
 " I see I see," she made reply. " Better was 
 not the correct word. But is he would you say he 
 was in a more hopeful condition ? " 
 
 " Yes, I certainly should," I was glad to be able to 
 say. " You have accomplished much with that poor 
 boy." 
 
 " Do you think so ? I wish I could know surely 
 that he would one day love Jesus Christ." 
 
 "You will know. A day will come when he will 
 do something that will make you know. Wait. 
 Work. Be hopeful." 
 
 "Thank you," she said gently, as I rose to go. 
 " That is a great comfort." I left the ladies sitting 
 yet upon the veranda. Mr. Leaven worth went with 
 me to the hall below. " You must pardon my 
 mother," he said. " The war went very hard with 
 her." 
 
 " No apology is needed for such a woman," was my 
 reply. " Women like her did almost as much to save 
 the Union as you soldiers, Mr. Leavenworth."
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 293 
 
 "That s so, Mr. Haynes. That s so." And at 
 parting he gave me a very hearty shake of the hand. 
 
 There must have been a ball and chain attached to 
 the feet of Old Father Time, for the next four days 
 moved more slowly than any others in all my life. 
 But Saturday afternoon came at last, and at two 
 o clock a carriage and a pair of horses were waiting 
 on Morningside Terrace, at Mrs. Leaven worth s door. 
 The young lady was all ready. Her mother called 
 from the porch as we were starting, " Be careful how 
 you drive, Mr. Haynes : and Alice, go up the river 
 first. That will be pleasantest." 
 
 What a drive that was ! There was no dust. Long 
 stretches of river now, and presently a bit of wood 
 land through which the road wound in shade, down 
 vistas that would wake the romance in a soul even if 
 it were asleep, then up the long hill through Marl 
 boro, and past the white church, we drove. Then 
 westward and southward, out to Fowler s Lake, 
 where under the trees by the shore we tied the horses 
 and left them while we w r andered along the bank. 
 On an old mossy log the maid of honor sat down, 
 while I stood out by the edge of the water, skipping 
 stones. I saw fish break beyond the weeds along the 
 margin, and though I knew they were not trout, they 
 made me think of Henderson, and J asked the first 
 question that came to my mind. 
 
 " Do you know Mr. Henderson well ? " 
 
 I did not look toward her as she answered, nor did 
 I venture nearer to that log. There was danger in its 
 vicinity, for a man so madly in love as I was. I was 
 not ready to tell the girl that I loved her. Henderson
 
 294 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 had badgered me about her for three years. What he 
 had said to her about me, or what he had told Julia 
 to say, I had no means of knowing. So, when I 
 spoke of him, I dared not look at her, lest I should see 
 in her face something that might lead me to make a 
 hazard prematurely. 
 
 Her reply was simple enough : 
 
 " Not so very well well enough to know that he is 
 queer, and well enough to know that he is heartily 
 devoted to you." 
 
 A little bolder by reason of the answer, I asked, 
 " Does he speak of me so much, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don t see him much," she replied. " At his 
 home, when Julia was married, he was chanting your 
 praises continually. I thought Mr. Ardman not the 
 Major felt piqued that Mr. Henderson should show 
 so much more interest in you than in him." 
 
 I had stopped skipping stones when this little 
 colloquy began, and, gathering courage, approached the 
 maid of honor s log. 
 
 " May I sit down ? " I asked. She moved a trifle 
 to make room for me. " Did Mr. Henderson ever tell 
 you his trout story, and of his day on Greenton 
 River ? " I asked. 
 
 " No," she responded ; " what was it ? " 
 
 " I think, if you ll excuse me, I ll leave for you the 
 pleasure of his version of a very funny incident." 
 
 " But I may not see him again," she objected. 
 " You told me the Assembly would adjourn Monday, 
 and you have wakened my curiosity." 
 
 " Oh, }^ou ll see him again. There s too much old- 
 fashioned politeness about him, for him to leave 
 Grandview without saying good-bye to your mother. 
 Get him to tell you then. Tell him I told you to."
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 205 
 
 " Well," she answered, " I will. Bat do you know 
 him well ? So very well ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know him better than I know any other 
 man, save only Tim Wendell and Joe Smith." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Wendell ? " she asked. " Of course I 
 know Mr. Smith. But why do you call one Tim, 
 and the other Joe ? Is that the ministerial way, 
 with the men of their congregations ? Will you call 
 Mr. Henderson Dave, by and by ? " 
 
 " Call Mr. Henderson Dave ? Well, hardly ! " 
 and I stopped talking to laugh. " If I should address 
 him so, he would roar back, Hoot, man, wi your 
 Daves. I m David to Geordie Ardman, but to no 
 ither man. And for the other questions, there are 
 only three men in the world whom I call familiarly 
 by their nicknames : Harry Sinclair and Tim and Joe. 
 Harry was my college chum for four years. Joe was 
 my classmate and my fraternity brother, and on one 
 or two occasions was my champion. And Wendell ? 
 He s the best man in Greenton and my most trusted 
 counselor." 
 
 " How did you make Mr. Henderson s acquaint 
 ance?" 
 
 " Has he never told you ? " 
 
 " No," she responded. " You must remember he 
 lives a long way from Grandview. I have been his 
 guest only once, and then we were all busy with 
 Julia s wedding. He was never in our house until he 
 called to take me to that Experience Evening. " 
 
 " Well, as he hasn t told you, I will. Do you 
 remember the day after the wedding at old St. 
 David s ? " 
 
 " I can never forget it." Her reply was low, but 
 I heard it.
 
 206 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 u Homeward bound that afternoon," I continued, 
 " I dropped into the only empty seat in the coach, 
 beside a man who was studying a Bible and making 
 notes. I watched him too closely, or too curiously, 
 for his liking perhaps he thought I was staring." I 
 chanced that shot, but she did not flinch. " Whatever 
 he thought, he turned on me. His first speech was 
 the key-note of our acquaintance." 
 
 " What train were you on ? " she said. " You were 
 bound for New York, of course." 
 
 " Yes," I said, " I was going to New York, and was 
 on the two o clock train." 
 
 " You were ? " Her question was quick and rather 
 astonished. " Why, I was on that same train." 
 
 It was my turn to say, " You were ? " So I said it 
 like an actor, adding, " I didn t see you alight in 
 Jersey City." 
 
 "No," she said. "I left the train in Newark. 
 My brother Dick lived in Newark then." 
 
 " Yes, I learned that afterward. For a long time I 
 thought you lived in Newark, too. I didn t know till 
 that night on your porch with Julia, that you didn t." 
 
 " Yes, I remember. Poor Mary ! Mary was Dick s 
 wife, you know." 
 
 " How long since her death ? " I asked, as inno 
 cently as though Harry Sinclair had never written 
 about it. 
 
 " It was in the summer after that Adirondack ride. 
 She took cold that night. It ended in pneumonia. 
 That was an awful ride." 
 
 How long that conversation would have continued 
 I make no conjecture. What course it might have 
 taken, because of that last remark, is not history. 
 The maid of honor started up suddenly, saying, " My
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 297 
 
 watch says four o clock. "We must be off, or late to 
 dinner. I told mother you would dine with us 
 to-night. You will, won t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, with pleasure," I said, and went to unhitch 
 the horses. 
 
 Down the road toward Grand view we whirled, 
 talking but little. The horses sniffed the home barns, 
 and though I had driven many teams, I had never 
 driven one that kept me more on the alert than this one. 
 I wanted no accidents, so I gave them my entire atten 
 tion. A half mile out of Grandview, I stopped the 
 horses under a great elm, in a triangle where three 
 roads met. The animals needed rest. They stood 
 with heaving sides, breathing and cooling, ere I let 
 them take just a taste of the water in a roadside 
 trough. While we were waiting, Miss Leavenworth 
 spoke once more of Tom, asking me what I supposed 
 the touch of her life and his could possibly mean, and 
 what the end would be ? 
 
 I did not answer at once. Instead, I drew a clipping 
 from my letter-case, a little gem of poetry that I prized. 
 
 " I think this will answer your question. Your rela 
 tion to Tom is one of the foreordained things. Men 
 call them chance, but devotion calls them God. May 
 I read it to you ? I think there s time." 
 
 u Oh, yes, do, please," she answered. 
 
 So I began : 
 
 "A fire-mist and a planet, 
 A crystal and a cell ; 
 A jelly-fish and a saurian, 
 And caves where the cave-men dwell ; 
 Then a sense of law and beauty, 
 And a face turned from the clod 
 Some call it evolution, 
 And others call it God.
 
 298 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " A haze on the far horizon, 
 The infinite tender sky ; 
 The ripe, rich tints of the cornfields, 
 And the wild geese sailing high ; 
 And all over upland and lowland, 
 The charm of the golden-rod 
 Some of us call it Autumn, 
 And some of us call it God. 
 
 " Like the tide on a crescent sea-beach 
 When the moon is new and thin, 
 Into our hearts high yearnings 
 Come welling and surging in 
 Come from the mystic ocean 
 Whose rim no foot has trod 
 Some of us call it Longing, 
 And some of us call it God. 
 
 " A picket frozen on duty, 
 A mother starved for her brood, 
 Socrates drinking the hemlock, 
 And Jesus on the rood ; 
 And millions who, humble and nameless, 
 The straight, hard pathway trod 
 Some call it Consecration, 
 And others call it God." 
 
 " Oh, that is beautiful, Mr. Haynes, and so helpful." 
 
 That was all she said but her face was shining. 
 
 I gave the horses the water, and drove them 
 leisurely do\vn the wide street. It was almost six 
 o clock. As we jogged along, I heard an uproar 
 behind me, and suddenly a cry, " Way there, mister ! 
 Way there ! You ll be run down." 
 
 Looking backward, I saw, a hundred yards away, 
 a big team running wildly. They had no driver and 
 were dragging a heavy dray, dashing from side to side 
 of the street, directly toward us. People, terrified, 
 were fleeing for shelter behind projecting flights of 
 stone steps.
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 209 
 
 " Way there, mister ! way there ! " came the cry. It 
 was then that my country training stood me in good 
 stead. To try to drive away, faster than they were 
 coming, was useless. To try driving toward them and 
 so avoid them, zigzagging as they were, was danger 
 ous. The only thing was to stop, watch, and take my 
 chances. I whirled my horses instantly at right 
 angles to the street. The runaways were bearing 
 directly down upon me. Alice Leavenworth sat like 
 a statue, uttering no sound. When the maddened 
 beasts were within thirty yards of us, and I saw they 
 could not change their course, I gave my own horses a 
 touch with the whip, sending them with a tremendous 
 spring straight across the street, directly in front of 
 the thundering dray, and we were safe. 
 
 There was a great cheer from the crowd. The move 
 had been made just in time. Where my carriage had 
 been thirty seconds before, that runaway pair dashed, 
 striking a small tree with the huge hub of a hind 
 wheel, and snapping it off; then on they tore, down 
 the street. Our danger and escape had been so quick 
 that I could scarcely realize it. 
 
 Turning about once more, I followed the course of 
 the dray. Miss Leavenworth had not yet spoken a 
 word. Looking at her, I noticed that her eyes were 
 fixed on the street beyond, across which, just then, a 
 little boy was seen to run, directly into the track of 
 the wild horses. That he would be run down and 
 killed seemed inevitable ; yet, in all the horror of the 
 moment, to turn my eyes away was impossible. But 
 quicker than the horses, out from the throng there 
 dashed a man to where the boy had fallen, seized him, 
 pulled him with a swift swing of his arm out of danger, 
 and then, as if made dizzy by his own act, he faltered
 
 300 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 just a second, staggered, fell in front of the team, and 
 horses and dray passed over his prostrate form. Never 
 before had I seen a thing so horrible. As we drove 
 up, the little boy was sitting in the road ; in his lap lay 
 the head of the man. Like a flash the truth went 
 through me, and I tried to turn the horses backward. 
 I was too late. The girl by my side clutched my arm 
 with both her hands, crying : 
 
 " Jack ! that s Willie ! And Jack ! oh, Jack ! that s 
 Tom ! " 
 
 The meaning of that impassioned "Jack" went 
 through my soul, as with shaking voice I answered : 
 
 " Yes, Alice dear, I know." 
 
 For a moment she sobbed, while my arm went 
 round her, holding her close. Then her strong soul 
 asserted itself. 
 
 " Jack," she said, " please help me out. Take the 
 horses to the stable, and then come back for me." 
 This time there was no passion in her " Jack," but 
 rather a calm decision, and I knew that for her and for 
 me the crisis of life had come. But all I said was : 
 
 " Yes, Alice." 
 
 When I returned, she had attended to everything 
 that needed to be done, and her brother was there 
 with an ambulance. Tom was unconscious still. No 
 one but the woman and the little boy had shown even 
 the sympathy of tears for the brave man who had 
 done what no other one had dared. They hurried the 
 poor form to the city hospital. Mr. Lea ven worth accom 
 panied the ambulance, while I escorted Alice and the 
 little boy home. I asked to be excused from making 
 one at the dinner table, a request for which I could 
 see that Alice was grateful. She went with me to the 
 hall door.
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 301 
 
 " Your skill and courage saved my life," she said ; 
 " saved both our lives. And Tom, whom you found 
 for me, saved Willie s life at the sacrifice of his own. 
 How can I ever repay you ? " 
 
 I took her extended hand, answering her question, 
 " You can repay me with the life you say I have saved. 
 You can let me watch over you, care for you, love 
 you with all my soul while life shall last. Will you ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " 1 will." 
 
 Then that hall door was closed, but it did not shut 
 me out. Which one closed it need not be told, nor 
 what we did, nor how long we stood there. But the 
 look she gave me as our covenant was made has 
 never for one moment been forgotten. 
 
 I was not twenty yards from the gate when I met 
 Bruce Fraser. " Good-evening," I said. 
 
 " Damn your good-evenings," he answered. " You 
 made a fine spectacle of Miss Leaven worth this after 
 noon, didn t you ? But I ll see that you and your 
 ragamuffins annoy her no more." 
 
 " You need not trouble, Mr. Fraser," I answered. 
 " I shall never annoy her again in this world, God 
 helping me." 
 
 "I m glad you ve come to your senses," he said. 
 " And if God don t help you, I know who will." He 
 went on to the Leavenworths . 
 
 My first effort at the Balustrade was to find 
 Henderson, tell him of the incident that had so moved 
 me, and arrange with him to go to the hospital, after 
 we had dined. Ah, but he was a man with a great 
 heart ! He gave orders at the hospital to provide the 
 best attention and skill for Tom, and agreed to meet 
 the cost. Then he sent a carriage for Tom s mother,
 
 302 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 while we both remained until she was by her boy s 
 side. He left some money with her, and we returned 
 to the hotel. For me, there was a promise to be kept ; 
 so, bidding him good-night, I made m}^ way back to 
 Morningside Terrace. 
 
 Alice took me straight to her mother. 
 
 The dear lady rose, and, extending her two hands, 
 clasped mine in both of hers. " "We can never repay 
 you, Mr. Haynes," she said, " never." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Leavenworth," I said, "you can. If 
 you and Alice will give me the life she says I saved, 
 to love and to care for always, you will not only 
 repay me, but you will make me inextricably your 
 debtor. Will you ? " 
 
 The mother looked steadily at me a moment, then 
 turned to Alice, then looked back at me, repeating 
 slowly, " Will I ? Will I ? Alice is my only daugh 
 ter, Mr. Haynes, and but, Alice, is this your wish 
 too ? " 
 
 The maid of honor put her arm around her mother s 
 waist. 
 
 " Yes, mother," she answered. The old lady kissed 
 her ; then, turning to me, said, " Then it is yes, 
 Mr. Haynes, from both of us. Your name is John, is 
 it not ? John was my boy s name my boy who 
 died at Fredericksburg. You shall be John, for me 
 and mine, from henceforth." 
 
 Alice sat with me on the veranda. The moon was 
 full, and there was magic in the air. Neither of us 
 ever had known such an evening as that. To stay 
 long was impossible ; the events of the day had been 
 full of excitement, and in our hearts was unspoken
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 303 
 
 sorrow over the poor boy out of whose sacrifice we 
 had come to the mutual knowledge of our love for 
 each other. Just before I said good-night, I asked: 
 
 " Alice dear, was Bruce Fraser here to-night ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "he came in just after you 
 had gone. He was all broken up over our narrow 
 escape this afternoon. Bruce and I have been friends 
 so long, he seems to feel that anything that affects me 
 affects him." 
 
 " Did he say anything about me ? " 
 
 "Yes. lie had been misinformed about the 
 accident. He laid it all to your bungling driving. 
 I told him how it was." 
 
 " Did you tell him about our relations ? " 
 
 "No. He was excited, and if he ever drank, I 
 should think he had been drinking. He only staid a 
 short time." 
 
 " You would better tell him, Alice, the next time 
 he comes." 
 
 " Do you wish it, Jack dear ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said. 
 
 Next morning, Sunday, summoned me to the 
 hospital ; Alice and Dick and Willie were already 
 there. She could not be satisfied with sending to 
 learn of Tom s condition, so herself had gone early, 
 with Dick and the boy for escort. Seeing that the 
 poor fellow s end was approaching, she rightly 
 thought I would wish to be there. 
 
 Tom had remained unconscious all the night, but 
 with the morning the soul came back to its shattered 
 temple. The eyes opened for one last look on the 
 world, and the tongue was loosed to say its last words 
 until in the company of the redeemed it should take 
 up the new song, " unto Him who hath loved us and
 
 304: THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 hath washed us from our sins in His own blood." 
 That the pardon which Christ had bought was Tom s, 
 I knew before I had stood many moments by his 
 cot. A strange beauty shone from his face. His eyes 
 roved over the unaccustomed place, and the comforts 
 of it seemed to satisfy him. He knew us all but 
 Richard Leavenworth. Sometimes, as I have thought 
 of his last moments, I have wondered if he did not 
 think he was at the portals of heaven. 
 
 His eyes sought our faces, looking lovingly at his 
 mother and at Alice. Poor mother ! There lay all 
 that remained of him who for so long had been 
 almost her sole support. What would she do now ? 
 "What do any of the poor do ? They are always with 
 us, and how little we reck of them. 
 
 There was nothing stolid in that poor upturned face 
 now. Coarseness was there, but not because of sin ; 
 it was the mark of hardship and poverty. Haggard- 
 ness was there, but not because of debauchery ; it was 
 laid there by the hand of calamity. 
 
 He turned his face to his mother. Falteringly, 
 brokenly, he said : 
 
 " Mother the Lord will provide." 
 
 His eyes sought Alice s face. 
 
 "Teacher," he began, but the words came slowly 
 and feebly, " Inasmuch as ye hev done it unto 
 one of the least of these My brethren ye hev 
 done it unto Me. I pulled "Willie out o the way 
 fer Him." 
 
 There followed moments of silence. Only his 
 breathing told us that he had not gone. Then at last 
 he roused himself, trying to speak again. This time 
 he looked at me. The voice was very faint and low, 
 and the words were very far apart.
 
 PERIL SURPRISES LOVE 305 
 
 " Though I am poor and needy yet the Lord 
 thinketh upon me ! " Then silence utter silence. 
 Not a quiver, not a sigh. The light was out. Poor 
 Tom no more ! Stolid Tom no more ! Redeemed Tom 
 redeemed by the blood of the Lamb ! 
 
 Alice turned to me. " He s gone, Jack." There 
 was a moment s pause, then she went on, " And we 
 are here. Reward for him, work for us and, God 
 helping, we will do our work together." 
 
 After another moment s silence, she asked, with a 
 break in her voice : 
 
 " Do you know what those last words to us all 
 were ? They were Golden Texts from his lessons in 
 the mission school. And that last text of all that 
 was the Golden Text of that very first Sunday, when 
 I felt keenly the sense of my unutterable failure." 
 
 " God is good, Alice," I said gently. " He has given 
 you the fruitage of your labors in His own time." 
 
 We laid Tom away in Fernvale Cemetery. Hen 
 derson and Major Ardman chose the spot and met 
 the cost, and they placed there a stone on which was 
 carved : 
 
 " TOM. 
 The World Gave Him No Chance, 
 
 but 
 JESUS CHRIST DID." 
 
 And Henderson s loving kindness did not stop there. 
 While the mother lived, the mill superintendent paid 
 her Tom s wages every week, and Henderson knew 
 what was the cause.
 
 XXVI 
 
 LOVE S CONFESSION 
 
 THE General Assembly adjourned. Its mem 
 bers scattered. Mr. Henderson left me in 
 Grandvievv, saying in farewell, "Business 
 will keep me frae hame for yet a few days, an ye 
 need to get your bearings before ye start, or we ll 
 never see ye in Duqueboro, I doot. There s naethin 
 like a lassie to straighten oot a man as daft as ye are. 
 Spend a day or twa wi the queen. She ll righten ye. 
 Then come hame. Ye ken the way." 
 
 "I shall go too, tomorrow," I answered, "but not 
 home. I m going to Greenton first, but I ll be home 
 before Sunday." 
 
 "An what are ye goin to Greenton for ? Is that 
 Jim Garvey in it ? Hoot, man ! wi your Greentons 
 an your Garveys, an that girl only juist got ye. 
 Ye re ungratefu to her an to me, wi your Greentons 
 an your Garveys." 
 
 He shook my hand and was gone. The rest of the 
 day and evening was spent on the Terrace. 
 
 Oh, that last night with Alice under the May moon, 
 with the glistening river lying there below, and the 
 laughter and song from the boats floating up as 
 accompaniment to the low hum of our voices. We 
 had been sitting, as lovers do, with no spoken word, 
 enjoying the deeper, lovelier communion of silence, 
 when the dear girl said suddenly : 
 
 306
 
 LOVE S CONFESSION 307 
 
 " Did you tell Mr. Henderson of our engagement ? " 
 
 "No," I replied. "It wasn t necessary. He told 
 me." 
 
 " Told you ? How could he ? " was her puzzled 
 inquiry. 
 
 " Don t you know Henderson yet ? Joe Smith told 
 him once he was a wizard, and I think he is a Scotch 
 wizard." 
 
 " Yes, but how did he know ? " 
 
 " Oh, by his wizarding. He watched me, I suppose. 
 He s a lawyer, and reading men s faces is his pro 
 fession. Anyway, on Monday after Tom s funeral he 
 said to me, So ye ve come to your senses, I doot, and 
 when I asked him when I d been away from them, 
 Hoot, man, said he, ye ve been oot o your senses 
 ever since I knew ye. Ye ve loved the girl three 
 years, an she s loved ye three years, an ye never went 
 near her till I trapped ye an landed ye at Grand 
 view, an ye ve been blunderin ever since then, till 
 noo. And you should have seen his satisfaction when 
 he added, But it s a settled noo. An I congratulate 
 ye, lad ; I congratulate ye. A man does a great thing 
 when he comes to his senses aboot the woman he 
 loves. " 
 
 Alice s laugh was music to me, for she had been 
 very sad over Tom. When the ripple passed, she 
 said : 
 
 " Is that true ? Have you loved me for three years ?" 
 
 She need not have asked ; I had told her that before. 
 But I answered as if I had not. 
 
 " I have loved you ever since that night w r hen, 
 coming down the broad stairs at the Wayne Mansion, 
 I saw you and Phyllis Lorraine standing in the hall 
 below,"
 
 308 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Do you know, Jack I knew it that night, that 
 very night." 
 
 " How could I know you did ? " was my frank reply. 
 " You wouldn t let me near enough to see what you 
 did or did not know." 
 
 " That s true," she answered gently. " I wouldn t 
 can t you imagine why ? " 
 
 " No," I returned ; " it s beyond the most vivid flight 
 of my fancy. "Why was it ? " 
 
 "Well " and she hesitated a trifle; " well I 
 
 loved you that very night, and I didn t want to." The 
 words fairly tumbled over her lips. " So I wouldn t 
 have had you know it for worlds." 
 
 " "Why, Alice Leaven worth ! " I cried in amazement, 
 " do you mean to say that you fell in love with me 
 that night with me ? " 
 
 "Yes that night with you as you came down 
 those stairs." 
 
 Thereafter ensued a long silence on the veranda. 
 
 When I spoke next, it was to say, " Why didn t you 
 want me to know you loved me, Alice ? " I was 
 returning to the subject that interested me most. 
 
 " Do you suppose any girl likes to wear a sign for 
 the man she loves, to read ? Besides, I had said over 
 and over that I d never marry a preacher. Phyllis 
 had been teasing me about you, prophesying that I d 
 be an easy victim to your charms. She had never 
 seen you, but Harry had told her about you, and she 
 thought she was a wonderful judge of men, though I 
 can t say much for her taste in choosing Mr. Sinclair." 
 
 " Then you meant to keep Phyllis ignorant as well 
 as me ? " I asked. 
 
 " You reason well from the premises," was her 
 laughing reply, and her laugh was joyous and clear.
 
 LOVE S CONFESSION 309 
 
 " You re a fine actress, Alice," I answered, more 
 fascinated than ever with her charm. " A fine actress. 
 Neither Phyllis nor Harry nor I ever suspected the 
 facts. At Mr. Henderson s house one night, when he 
 was bragging that he would marry me to the most 
 beautiful girl in the world, Harry said to him, You ve 
 taken a big contract. I tried to start a game of that 
 sort at old St. David s, but the game wouldn t go. 
 The girl I had there for him was the most beautiful 
 girl in the world, and the two looked at each other 
 without the slightest interest. I think each of them 
 was bored because each had to put up with the other 
 for two whole days. Phyllis and I were sadly dis 
 appointed. " 
 
 " We both know of whom Harry was talking," she 
 said. " But who," she added archly, " was the lady 
 Mr. Henderson spoke of ? " 
 
 " Why, you," said I. " Who else ? They both had 
 you in mind. Henderson knew it, though Harry 
 didn t." 
 
 " There s been quite a game played around me, of 
 which I knew nothing." 
 
 " Nothing, Alice ? Are you sure ? " I questioned. 
 
 " Well, not much of anything. Nothing until Julia s 
 visit. After you d gone home, and your letter about 
 Tom came, Julia teased me some, but she didn t 
 learn one syllable of my secret." 
 
 There was another little interval of silence that was 
 not tedious. The moon was very bright, the river 
 was very beautiful, and neither of us had ever been 
 engaged before. Finally, as before, I broke the 
 spell : 
 
 " Alice, may I ask you something without danger 
 of making you angry ? "
 
 310 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Why, yes, dear. What could you say to auger 
 me?" 
 
 " Well, I might say a right thing in a way so wrong 
 and blundering as to annoy you, if I didn t rouse your 
 anger. But I ll risk it, anyway." Then, boldly, " Do 
 you remember the day you and Felix Ardman were on 
 Fifth avenue, before Schaus window ? " 
 
 Her reception of the question surprised me. " I ve 
 been wanting you to ask me that very thing," she 
 said. "I kne\v you would sometime. I wanted to 
 tell you about that, but I couldn t bring myself to 
 take the initiative. I said a horrid thing, and I knew 
 it. But, Jack, I loved you that day, and the sight of 
 you roused a struggle in me that I thought I had 
 fought all out before. I saw you before you saw me. 
 When you did see me, I wished the earth would open. 
 I was angry to think I loved you. I almost gave you 
 the heartiest welcome you ever had ; but, had I done 
 that, Felix Ardman would have known, for I could 
 not have kept it concealed. I said in my heart, I will 
 not love him I will not marry him, and my only 
 defense was in brusque repellence of your look. I 
 called it a stare, and you heard and rushed out among 
 the carriages, and I thought you Avould be killed. 
 When I saw you safe on the top of that stage, I offered 
 a prayer of thanks, for I did love you, Jack, and I do. 
 I never would have married anyone else. I said I 
 would never marry you, but I will, Jack I will." 
 
 Then after a little I said, " And that tells the story 
 of The Westernland, too, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, Jack. It was almost more than I could bear, 
 to have you on that steamer to have to see you for 
 ten days. That night when you nearly tumbled over 
 me, and blazed out so at me, I almost broke down.
 
 LOVE S CONFESSION 311 
 
 Had you just there declared that you had followed 
 me because you loved me, I think I should have 
 accepted you." 
 
 " Do you remember the day you met Mr. Harris in 
 Kome ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember. He told us you were in Rome. 
 I wished I could have a sight of you that day. We 
 told him where we were going, and when. I thought 
 perhaps you would be about the station somewhere." 
 
 " But I told you I would never see you again unless 
 it were by accident." 
 
 " Yes, I know. But I thought perhaps you might 
 have an accident happen, you know." That remark 
 was the signal for another lull in the conversation. 
 Finally the girl said : 
 
 " Who is Mr. Harris, Jack ? " 
 
 " He is a wealthy Boston merchant who goes abroad 
 often. He and Mr. Henderson have been friends for 
 six years. When Henderson started me for Europe, 
 he induced Mr. Harris to go, so that I might have a 
 traveling mate. I did not know the man nor the fact. 
 Harris scraped acquaintance with me, and it developed 
 that he was my second cousin. I didn t learn Hender 
 son s part in his being with me till I first went to 
 Duqueboro, and David, Jr., told me." 
 
 " Jack, I m going to tell you something stranger 
 still. Mr. Henderson knows Richard well, in a busi 
 ness way, and knew that he was going abroad on The 
 Westernland. A week before it was to sail, he went 
 into the store in Newark and asked Dick if he were 
 going to take me along. He seemed so determined 
 about it, Dick finally agreed, if he could get room for 
 me. Then Mr. Henderson told him he had a room 
 that he couldn t use, and wouldn t we take it ? That s
 
 312 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 how I happened to be a passenger. He did that just 
 to get you and me together, did he not ? " 
 
 " Yes, that s transparent. But it didn t work." 
 
 " Jack, it worked better than you thought. I told 
 myself a hundred times a day, I hate that man, and 
 at night I went to sleep saying, I love him, oh, I do 
 love him, and why does he not see it ? " 
 
 It was hard to say good-bye that night. But it had 
 to be said. I passed out into the night. Alice was at 
 the unclosed door. 
 
 I turned to look back from the gate. There she 
 stood as on that December night when Henderson s 
 finesse had brought me in ignorance to her home. 
 She was the maid of honor then : she was my maid of 
 honor now, my affianced bride. I see her still, after 
 all the years, tall, graceful, inexpressibly beautiful, her 
 hand raised to her lips, and her face suffused with 
 love.
 
 XXVII 
 
 A VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS 
 
 AT half-past one next day, Joe Smith and I were 
 whirling along the Greenton River road to 
 Salisbury. Our destination was the county 
 jail. The sheriff recognized me, comprehended my 
 errand, and volunteered the information that " my man 
 was bracing up." " The gin is all out of him long 
 ago," he said. " He begins to look white. He says 
 himself he s going to stop chewing tobacco, but I m 
 afraid that would kill him. I thought when you left 
 him, you were wasting your sympathy ; but you re 
 not. I thought he was a hobo, but he isn t. He ll 
 win out." 
 
 The sheriff turned me over to a keeper, who brought 
 Jim out to see us. It hardly seemed possible that my 
 eyes told the truth when he appeared. There was 
 before me the figure of an erect man, instead of a 
 slouched-down hulk of a bummer. Walking up, he 
 said : 
 
 "Mr. Haynes, you re the best man I ever see. 
 There s not another in your class." 
 
 " Oh, yes, there are, Jim, lots of them," I said. 
 " But I don t much think there is another to be found 
 easily of your class. You ve made the most rapid 
 advance toward manhood of any man I ever saw. You 
 know I told you there was a man in you, and I think 
 he s beginning to come out." 
 
 313
 
 314 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Tes, I guess he s getting out, Mr. Haynes. But 
 you opened the door." 
 
 " Well, Jim, an open door s no good if a man won t 
 use it. Your keeper tells me you re going to give up 
 chewing tobacco, Jim. Is that so ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, it s so." 
 
 " Do you think you can stand out, Jim ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I think I can." 
 
 " My boy, I m afraid you don t know how hard it s 
 sure to be." I saw my opportunity here for the word 
 I had come to Salisbury to say. " You ll want Jesus 
 Christ along, if you break that habit." 
 
 "Hold up, Mr. Haynes," he cried then. "I ain t 
 on to thet racket yet. I ll get there only don t go 
 too fast. I m goin after Jesus Christ jes as soon as 
 I c n catch on." 
 
 Poor fellow ! How little he knew ! How low down 
 he was. There were little lights of God visible in him 
 that day in the county jail. 
 
 " Jim," I continued, " you won t drink the day you 
 get out ? " 
 
 " Not a drop, so help me, parson." 
 
 " Jimmie MacNaughton will be here that day. You ll 
 go with him, won t you ? " 
 
 " Go with any feller you say go with." 
 
 "He ll take you to Bob. I m going to see Bob 
 to-night. He ll have work ready for you, work that 
 you can do, and he s been through the whole mill him 
 self. He knows every cog in every wheel of the whole 
 gin machine." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Haynes; thar s where I ll go." 
 
 So much settled, I returned to the centre of the 
 problem. 
 
 " See here, Jim," I said, " you ll go down on the
 
 A VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS 315 
 
 under side of things again, where you said you d always 
 been, you know, if you don t take Jesus Christ into 
 your life." 
 
 " Well, where is He, parson ? Gimme a sight o 
 Him." I could see the poor fellow was in earnest. 
 " If I c n get hold o Him, I will," he promised. " So 
 help me, I will." 
 
 " Let s go back to your cell, Jim." I called the 
 keeper. "Mr. Smith and I want to see Jim in his 
 cell," I explained. " We want you along to see that 
 we don t load him up for a break." 
 
 When we were all back in the cell, I said : 
 
 "Jim, you ve been a drunkard and a liar and a 
 thief. You know, don t you, that Jesus Christ was 
 crucified for sinners ? " 
 
 " Yes : the priest told that yarn, when I was a kid." 
 
 "He did all that for you just for you. He ll for 
 get that you ve been liar and thief and drunkard, if 
 you ll tell Him so and ask Him to forget it, and ask 
 Him to come and go along with you. There was a 
 thief on a cross right beside Him, that day He died. 
 He got a notion that Christ could help him, even if 
 He was on the cross there. So he asked Him not to 
 forget him when He should enter His kingdom, and 
 Jesus told him right there He d take him to Paradise 
 that very day. Don t you think, if He d help one thief 
 like that, He d help another who asked Him ? " 
 
 " Twouldn t be fair, if He didn t," said Jim. 
 
 " Well, I ve come up here from Grandview that s 
 almost as far as Sing Sing just to get you to promise 
 me that you d ask Jesus Christ every day not to for 
 get you. Will you do it?" 
 
 " Well I can t catch on to her much but I ll do 
 her."
 
 316 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 " Will you do it to-day, Jim ? " 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Now. Get down on your knees and do it now." 
 
 Down he went on the jail floor. His prayer was 
 such as no one ever heard before. 
 
 " Jesus Christ, I m goin ter be a man. I hev quit 
 gin, an I m goin ter quit terbacker. I ain t onter this 
 racket yet but I m goin ter quit, an don t yer fergit 
 me. Amen." 
 
 Then Joe Smith prayed, and I followed. After 
 that, we left the jail. In the corridor, the keeper 
 said: 
 
 " Do you go around doing that sort of thing ? " 
 
 "No," I answered, " that s my first. But that man 
 must be saved. Whether you re a Christian or not, 
 you should be, and I wish you d take hold of this end 
 of the job. I m away off in Duqueboro when I m at 
 home, but I ll keep hold out there. Some one will 
 come over from Greenton every month, and if you ll 
 take hold here, we ll save this fellow, between us. He 
 never had a friend in all his life before." 
 
 "Who are you?" inquired the keeper, who was 
 newly come to Salisbury. 
 
 I told him. 
 
 " Well," said he, thoughtfully and I was glad that 
 the interview with Jim had, as I intended, set another 
 man to thinking " well, I ll go you half on your job. 
 I m a Christian not much on it ; not much but I ll 
 take a hand at this." 
 
 ***** * 
 
 There was a very happy party at the manse that 
 night. The good time began with dinner, to which 
 Helen Kaymond had invited her uncle and aunt. 
 What joy it was, to sit with those blessed people in
 
 A VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS 317 
 
 the old dining-room of the only home I had known, 
 for many a year ! As I looked upon the familiar fur 
 niture, I thought, " By and by you will be in another 
 home of mine, and a lady you have never known will 
 care for you and watch over you." As that conceit 
 took form, it almost seemed as if my mother s picture 
 over the mantel smiled. 
 
 Elder Ilarfis was a reticent man ordinarily, but his 
 tongue ran like a mill-race that night. He was per 
 sistent in questions about the Assembly and in com 
 ments upon it. At last Joe broke into the conversa 
 tion, " Where s your cigar, Jack ? " 
 
 " Got a divorce from me on the ground of deser 
 tion," I said. 
 
 " Have you deserted the shrine of the little brown 
 roll?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. I wanted Joe to drop that 
 subject, but he would not. 
 
 "How did it happen, Jack?" 
 
 " You know Major Ardman ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He s been a smoker for fifty years." 
 
 " Well, what of that ? " 
 
 " He offered me a cigar at his house, the first night 
 I was in Duqueboro. I said, Major, Mr. Henderson 
 has given up cigars. I m starting a new life here. 
 Let s celebrate the beginning of this pastorate by fol 
 lowing that good example. Can t do it, Mr. Haynes ; 
 I m too old, he said. But he didn t light his cigar. 
 He held it, twirled it, smelled it, laid it back in the 
 box, shut the lid, wrapped it in paper, tied it fast, 
 and said, Take that with my compliments to Dr. 
 Sinclair. He has never smoked since. Neither have I. 
 But, Joe, where s your own cigar?"
 
 318 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Oh," he replied, " when I returned to Greenton, 
 Tim Wendell came to me and said, * Dominie, tobacco 
 is a dead damage to influence in this town. It hurt 
 Jack some, while he was here. His tobacco was the 
 reason why Charlie Hazeltine never joined our 
 church, even though his father did. Now, he said, 
 you start right, and let that be one of the things you 
 don t do here. If Henderson could stop, old and 
 tough as he was, surely you can. So I stopped, Jack." 
 
 "That s so he did," came a familiar voice, and 
 there in the door stood Wendell himself, who had 
 entered unnoticed. 
 
 " Helen," I said, " will you pardon me if I suggest 
 that Tim go and bring Mrs. Wendell ? " 
 
 " Certainly," was the answer. " Hurry up, Mr. 
 Wendell. We shall be curious to hear Jack s story." 
 
 When Tim returned with his wife, I told the tale of 
 my long love for Alice Leavenworth, that I had won 
 her and was to be married in September. The effect 
 of this narrative on Joe was to make him forget that 
 he was pastor of the Greenton Church, and that two 
 of his elders were present. For a moment he was a 
 boy again, back in the old fraternity lodge. Jumping 
 up, he broke into one of the old lodge songs into 
 which there came the name of a girl called Alice. 
 
 " Stop that, Joe," I shouted, " or I ll " But he 
 
 kept right on. 
 
 " Stop," I called again, and this time went after 
 him, while the whole company began to laugh and 
 cheer. Joe dodged to the other side of the library 
 table, still singing, while the laughter grew louder. 
 As we dodged this way and that on opposite sides of 
 the barrier, a familiar voice arrested us. 
 
 " An what are ye doin , dancin like Dauvid before
 
 A VISIT TO OLD FRIENDS 319 
 
 the ark, I doot ? " Only one man in the world 
 would have said that. Joe stopped stock still. 
 
 " Avaunt, and quit ray sight," he cried, throwing up 
 his hands like Macbeth in the play. " Take any form 
 but that. Be thou spirit of health or goblin " 
 
 " Hoot, man, wi your speerits an your goblins ! 
 Have ye no welcome for the man that discovered ye 
 an introduced ye to civil society ? " 
 
 We were all laughing heartily, but Helen controlled 
 herself enough to act her part of hostess. 
 
 " You re very welcome indeed, Mr. Henderson," 
 said she, offering him her hand. " And I m ashamed 
 of Mr. Smith." 
 
 " Oh, there s no need to be ashamed o him, madam. 
 He kens no better. A minister o the gospel dancin 
 like Dauvid before the ark, an no ark, an no Dauvid 
 but me, an I m no dancin . Were there an ark, noo, 
 one could forgie him." 
 
 " Oh, you ll forgive me when I tell you I was con 
 gratulating Haynes upon his engagement to the finest 
 girl in the state." 
 
 " An is it congratulatin to sing unholy songs an 
 to caper to the confusion o your elders ? " 
 
 " Put yourself in my place, Mr. Henderson ; put 
 yourself in my place. I ve been working for a year 
 to make a match between these two, and I ve just 
 done it." 
 
 u Ye ve dune it, ha ye ? Man ! why, I brought 
 em thegither. I made the plans. I started the 
 train. I delivered the goods at the lassie s own door. 
 An ye say ye dune it ? Man, where s your con 
 science ? " 
 
 " There have been three sets of actors in this 
 comedy," said I. " Harry Sinclair and Phyllis Lorraine
 
 320 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 were the first. And Cupid was very alert and very 
 effective at St. David s, I have lately learned. Joe 
 Smith and his good wife, too, lent a helping hand in 
 bringing matters to a happy outcome. But the king 
 of the schemers was our friend. When Cupid brevets 
 his aids for services well rendered, he will put a gen 
 eral s star on David Henderson s shoulder. Rise, 
 friends, and salute the matchmaker from Duqueboro." 
 Every one rose amid a roar of laughter. Every one 
 bowed. But Henderson was as sober as a judge as he 
 said, " Ha dune wi your folly. Your gratitude is 
 ower late in expression, man. But I wadna ha suc 
 ceeded but for the runawa , I doot." The next day 
 Henderson and I started for home.
 
 XXVIII 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 
 
 AS Mr. Henderson and I neared Grandview, the 
 longing to see Alice almost overpowered me. 
 It was only an echo of my own thought 
 when Henderson said suddenly, as the train was 
 within sight of the town : 
 
 " Ye ll be stoppin over yon, I doot." 
 
 "Well, no, I guess not. I ve said good-bye." 
 
 "Man, what are ye made of? Is there no fire in 
 ye ? Are ye brass or copper, that the magnet over 
 yon river doesna draw ye with tremendous drawin ?" 
 
 " No," I said. " The drawing is all right. But we 
 decided I wasn t to come back. We both knew I d 
 have to be busy in Duqueboro this summer, and 
 couldn t be traveling back and forth. What would 
 she think if I broke the agreement? " 
 
 " What would she think, is it ? Oh, parson, ye re a 
 grampus. Ye re a herrin . Ye ken naething aboot 
 girls. Stir yersel . Leave me your luggage. Come 
 down on the nine-thirty. Join me at the old Astor 
 House. We ll take the midnight train. Have one 
 good evenin . Ye ll no hae another a simmer." 
 
 So I went over. " Nine-thirty, ye ken," was his last 
 word. 
 
 As I went into the Balustrade, a few minutes after 
 six o clock, I saw Bruce Fraser go into the wine-room 
 with two others, swaggering and talking loud enough 
 for me to hear. 
 
 321
 
 322 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Yes, you old Muggins," he said, " I m going up 
 there now. I m going to have it out to-night. I ve 
 been dancing to the tunes she s played for two 
 years, and now we ll dance together or I ll know 
 why." 
 
 It was a coarse speech, and I comprehended its full 
 meaning. The man had evidently been drinking. 
 
 It was seven-thirty before I reached the Terrace. 
 As I turned into the yard, Bruce was coming down 
 the steps, and the door was shut behind him. He had 
 not seen me at the Balustrade, but he could not help 
 seeing me now. 
 
 " Hello, Dominie, best man, et cetera. What you 
 doing here ? " His breath was filled with the fumes 
 of liquor. 
 
 " I m on my way home to Duqueboro, from my old 
 home at Greenton," I answered. 
 
 " Is this one of the way stations ? " he asked with a 
 sneer. 
 
 " Well, I ve made it so to-night. I never expect to 
 again, though." 
 
 " Well, you better not," he threatened. " I m going 
 to be boss at this station, and I ll kill the man who 
 tries to get my job." 
 
 It was evident that something had gone wrong. It 
 was of no use to talk to him so, slipping past, I went 
 up the steps, while he, with a wicked oath, went off 
 down the street. 
 
 Alice was overjoyed to see me again. She had 
 more color than usual, and was a little excited. " Did 
 you meet Bruce as you came in ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, I met him." 
 
 " Did he speak to you ? Did you notice anything 
 peculiar about him ? "
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 323 
 
 " Yes he spoke. He was not quite so much the 
 gentleman as he was at St. David s," I said. 
 
 " Oh, he s changed horribly. You know, he worked 
 for my brother in Newark. When Dick moved up 
 here, he left Bruce in charge of his business. Dick 
 goes down twice a week. Bruce had been very faith 
 ful, but he fell in with a fast set of men, and they 
 have sadly demoralized him." 
 
 " Did you know he drank too much punch at the 
 old Wayne Mansion ? " 
 
 " No," was her reply. 
 
 " You were too busy trying to make me feel how 
 utterly impossible I was that night," I suggested. 
 
 " Stop, Jack. That s all gone." 
 
 "Did you know how it happened that Fraser went 
 in one boat, your brother in another, and you two 
 ladies in the third, when you went up Indian Lake 
 from Locke s that night ? " 
 
 " No, how was it ? Bruce and I expected to be in 
 one boat." 
 
 "I thought that was probable. I discovered that 
 Fraser was drinking while we were walking in the 
 rain. He had a flask in his pocket. When we 
 stopped at Indian River Tavern, he slipped into the 
 bar-room and drank hard again. Fearing for your 
 safety, I told John Pike to make sure that the guides 
 should load the boats just as they did." 
 
 " Poor Bruce ! I did like him, Jack. He was good 
 company. He had enjoyed good advantages. I 
 never loved him never thought of such a thing ; and 
 to-night he horrified me." 
 
 " AVhat did he do to-night ? " I knew well enough, 
 for I had overheard his remark at the Balustrade. 
 
 " He came here about seven o clock, a most unusual
 
 324 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 hour for him. He evidently was in liquor, and I wa 
 afraid. But happily he did not stay very long, for I 
 called Dick." 
 
 " Did he do anything unusual ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, he asked me to marry him, and said he had 
 been trying to get an opportunity to say that for a 
 long time, but that I had never been fair with him, 
 and now he was going to make me hear, and he would 
 not take no for an answer." She paused. She did 
 not want to go any further, even to the man she 
 loved, with the story of the rejection of the suit of the 
 man she did not love. Her face was brilliant now 
 with excitement, and she had never looked so entranc- 
 ingly lovely. 
 
 "He made no trouble when you did say no, 
 did he?" 
 
 " Oh," she answered, " he was a little dreadful, but 
 I called Dick, and he went away. I have seen the 
 last of him. I am sorry for his father, and I am more 
 than sorry for him." 
 
 "What an hour and a half we passed ! To remember 
 it even after all the years is happiness. Time went 
 on the wings of love s young dream. Nine o clock 
 found us on the veranda, very loth to say our parting 
 words. She was standing again in the doorway, and as 
 I turned at the gate she said, " Be careful, Jack. Don t 
 let anything happen." 
 
 " Nothing can happen," I said, and hastened down 
 Bond street, and was just at the corner of Henry, 
 when a man touched my arm from behind. I turned 
 and was face to face with Bruce Fraser. " "What do 
 you want ? " I said. 
 
 "I want you to read this paper and sign it," he 
 answered.
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 325 
 
 " I have no time ; I am hurrying to catch the nine- 
 thirty Hudson River train south." 
 
 " You ll read and sign that, or you won t take any 
 train," he replied. I could see he was filled with 
 passion. 
 
 " Have done with this nonsense, Fraser," I said. " I 
 want no quarrel with you. I m in a hurry, too." I 
 tried to avoid him, but as I stepped quickly on he shot 
 out one foot, tripped me, and I fell. Instantly he and 
 three other men were upon me. They tied my feet 
 and bound my left arm fast to my body. It throbbed 
 with pain, and I was sure I had broken my forearm in 
 the fall. They left the right arm free from cords, 
 but one big ruffian gripped it fast. 
 
 " Now perhaps you ll have time to read and sign that 
 paper," said Fraser. " Carry him to the lamp-post, 
 boys, where he can see." Fraser held the paper be 
 fore my eyes, and I read : 
 
 " I hereby solemnly swear that I will never set foot 
 on the Terrace again ; that I will never see, nor 
 attempt to see, Alice Leaven worth again ; and that I 
 will never write to her or in any way communicate 
 with her." 
 
 " What nonsense is this ? " I cried angrily. 
 
 u It is no nonsense, damn you," said Fraser. " Sign 
 that paper ; sign it quick. Then we ll start you for the 
 ferry." He thrust a pencil into my hand. " Sign," 
 said he again. 
 
 " I will never sign that paper," I replied. " I shall 
 come to Grandview as often as I please. I shall see 
 this young lady as often as I please ; and in September 
 next she will be my wife." That made him furious. 
 
 " Come on, then," he said. " Take him, boys." 
 
 They hurried me, faint with pain, down South street
 
 326 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 toward the river. Behind the big brewery there was 
 a vacant lot. In it stood a telegraph pole, by which 
 they stood me. " "Will you sign that paper ? " came 
 the demand once more. 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Up with him, boys." In three minutes they had 
 tied me head downward, kicking me brutally, merci 
 lessly, and cursing terribly. Then there was a pistol- 
 shot ; I felt a sharp sting in my side, and fainted. 
 
 ****** 
 
 That shot, which was meant for my death, was the 
 saving of my life. A policeman chanced to be pass 
 ing the corner of Water and South streets just as the 
 shot was fired. True to his instincts, he ran toward 
 the spot from which the sound came, heard the feet of 
 men running, sounded his alarm call for help, and 
 came to where I was fast bound in semi-crucifixion. 
 When the help arrived, they carried me to the city 
 hospital. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Late that, night Henderson was pacing his room at 
 the Astor House, sorely perplexed. He did not know 
 how to account for my non-appearance. He tele 
 graphed the railway station, and found the train had 
 come in on time. There were three thoughts in his 
 mind. Either I had missed the train, or Alice had 
 persuaded me to remain over until morning, or I had 
 been waylaid coming down-town in New York. The 
 first two thoughts he at once dismissed with the reflec 
 tion, " he would have telegraphed." The third started 
 him to communicate with police headquarters. A very 
 careful search of the routes I could have taken down 
 town revealed no trace of any disorder or any crime.
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 327 
 
 Then the superintendent proposed that an inquiry be 
 made of Grand view. Perhaps the waylaying had 
 been there. Before morning he had learned that an 
 unidentified stranger was in the hospital at Grandview 
 with a broken arm, a gun-wound in his side, and with 
 head, neck and shoulder bearing marks of contusions 
 as if from kicks ; that no assailants had been found, and 
 no reasons could be assigned for the assault. The first 
 train up in the morning brought Henderson to Grand- 
 view and to the hospital, where he quickly gave orders 
 for the proper care of the stranger, about whose 
 identity all sorts of conjectures were being made. 
 
 Soon after his arrival, Richard Leaven worth 
 appeared. When Alice had come down to breakfast 
 that morning, she had been confronted by the head 
 lines in the paper : 
 
 "AN UNKNOWN YOUNG MAN, WELL DRESSED, 
 
 FOUND TIED HEAD DOWNWARD TO A 
 
 TELEGRAPH POLE." 
 
 A few moments later, Mrs. Leaven worth had found 
 her unconscious on the sofa in the hall, and her first 
 waking words had sent Dick post-haste to the hospital. 
 
 " It is Jack," she had whispered, " and Bruce did it." 
 
 Henderson s message to her by her brother was reas 
 suring. All would be well, he hoped. That message 
 sent, he proceeded to interview the police, who had 
 already searched the ground over, but had obtained no 
 clue except the pistol they had found not far from the 
 telegraph pole. Looking the weapon carefully over, 
 Henderson found the name, " S. Miner," stamped with 
 a steel die in the wood of the handle, and beside it a 
 queer mark which he copied into his note-book. 
 
 Inquiry showed S. Miner to be the owner of a sport-
 
 328 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 lag-goods store, to which Henderson immediately 
 repaired. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a sign as that before ? " he 
 asked, producing the weapon. 
 
 The proprietor was a very eccentric little old man, 
 with a reputation for his methodical ways. He did not 
 believe in the indiscriminate sale of firearms, and 
 usually found a way of associating the weapons he sold 
 with their purchasers. 
 
 " Yes. That is my firearms identification sign," he 
 replied. 
 
 " How does this identify ? " 
 
 " "Why, it tallies with my book." 
 
 " Would you object to showing me what this tallies 
 with in your book ? " 
 
 " Why, no. But what s the case ? " 
 
 " The case of the man murderously assaulted last 
 night. A pistol was found close by the place where 
 the stranger was shot. The pistol bore this mark and 
 your name." 
 
 " Oh, I see. Well, here s the record." The man 
 produced a book, and, running rapidly down a long 
 column of characters, found the one in question. Then 
 he turned to a description of the pistol, the day it was 
 sold, and the person who bought it. In this case 
 the man was described, but no name given. " Young 
 man, tall, well built, fresh face, yellow hair, stranger, 
 would not give his name." The date of the sale was 
 eight o clock of the night before. 
 
 Back at the police office, Henderson told what he 
 had learned. "That description fits young Fraser," 
 said the chief. 
 
 " Who s he ? " 
 
 " He s the son of the preacher in the Presbyterian
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 329 
 
 church. He does not live here." He called in one 
 of his men to the private office. " Barney, have you 
 seen young Fraser, the preacher s son, here lately ? " 
 
 " Yes, he was here yesterday." 
 
 " Where did you see him ? " 
 
 " Saw him goin into old lady Leavenworth s on the 
 Terrace about seven o clock last night." 
 
 Then the chief turned to Henderson. " That fits 
 with a curious piece of paper that was brought in while 
 you were out. It was found in the lot, by the pole, 
 with blood-drops on it. It was picked up when the 
 pistol was, but has only just been turned in." 
 
 When Henderson read the paper Bruce had tried to 
 make me sign, the case was clear to him. " I know 
 all about this thing now," he said. " It s a case of 
 jealous madness, and probably the man was drunk. I 
 want that paper for three or four days. I want the 
 young woman s name kept out o the papers, and all 
 further investigation kept secret in this office. The 
 man in the hospital is my pastor. I m a lawyer. If 
 I can do what I want to do, young Fraser will never 
 trouble any of you here again. I don t want to hurt 
 him. I want to save him. There s only one way to 
 do it, and that way lies through my possession of that 
 paper." And it was yielded to him, together with 
 the pistol. 
 
 During the day he learned from Alice the story of 
 Bruce s visit on Friday evening, and of our meeting 
 near her door. He asked Dick if he had any of 
 Fraser s letters, and when he compared them with the 
 blood-stained paper, reached the conclusion that he 
 expected. Before night the police were on the trail 
 of Fraser s accomplices. 
 
 On Monday morning Henderson walked into Kich-
 
 330 THE MAID OF HONOIl 
 
 ard Leavenworth s store in ]S T e\vark, and asked if 
 Mr. Fraser was in. He sent his card to the office. 
 The young man received him courteously. When the 
 common salutations were passed, Henderson said, 
 " Ye dinna receive mornin calls from lawyers often, 
 I doot." 
 
 " No, I do not," was the reply. " Are you a 
 lawyer ? " 
 
 " Yes, I m a lawyer, an lawyers seldom call except 
 they have business, I doot." 
 
 "Then you have business with me, I presume. 
 "What is its nature, may I ask ? " 
 
 " What would ye be thinkin its nature might be ? " 
 
 " I am not a mind-reader," said Fraser. 
 
 "Ye would become a mind-reader if I said John 
 Haynes, I doot." 
 
 Fraser s ruddy face turned very pale, and Hender 
 son went on, "I was right. I see ye are mind-readin 
 now. Ye are wonderin whether John Haynes is 
 dead, I doot." 
 
 Bruce gathered himself together, and said with an 
 assumed bravado, " This is rather remarkable conduct 
 
 on your part, Mr. Ah ! What did you say was 
 
 your name ? Oh, yes, I recall Henderson. Rather 
 remarkable conduct, Mr. Henderson. What does it 
 mean ? Who is John Haynes ? " 
 
 " He is the young man whom you tried to kill last 
 Friday night in Grandview," said Henderson. 
 
 "Mr. Henderson, if your errand here this morning 
 is to insult me, you might as well consider your inter 
 view ended." He stepped to the office door and 
 opened it. Henderson did not move. " Did you 
 hear ? " said Bruce. 
 
 " Yes, I heard. But I was too busy mind-readin to
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 331 
 
 start. I was readin what ye was thinkin. Ye was 
 sayin , "Who is this Henderson ? What does he know 
 aboot rne ? What does he know aboot Grand view ? 
 Does he know aboot Alice Leavenworth " 
 
 "By the eternal," shouted Bruce, " I ll not stand 
 this. Here, Mike ! Come and drag this insolent bully 
 out of the office." He made a dive, seizing Henderson 
 by the collar. But he had reckoned without his host. 
 Henderson had flung him into a corner of the office, 
 and had locked the office door, before Mike could 
 enter. Towering over Fraser, who had fallen, he said, 
 " Ye thought I was a bairn, I doot. Ye thought ye 
 could tie me head doon to a telegraph pole, I doot. 
 Get up and sit doon here. I hae a word o advice 
 for ye. Ye may o erpower meenisters in the dark, 
 but ye canna do it wi me, man ; ye canna do it wi me." 
 
 " Who the hell are you ? " said Bruce. 
 
 "I m David Henderson, of Duqueboro, Pa. I m 
 elder of the Kir Jear Presbyterian Church of that 
 city. John Haynes is its pastor, an I m his friend. 
 He was best man at St. David s, and ye were usher. 
 An ye baith saw the same girl, an he has won her ; 
 an ye played the dastard trick wi him last Friday 
 night, an he s like to dee. An if he does, I ll hang 
 ye, for I ve got the evidence." 
 
 " You ve got no evidence, for the story s false. Of 
 course I know Haynes, but I haven t seen him for two 
 years." 
 
 " Oh, yes, ye hae seen him in less than twice two 
 days, an I ve the evidence o that in ma pocket. 
 The pistol, ye ken, an the private mark on it for 
 record, ye ken ; an the paper that ye wrote, ye ken, 
 that ye tried to make the meenister sign." Then Bruce 
 blustered again :
 
 332 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " I want this tomfoolery to stop. I tell you to get 
 out of this office," and he stepped to the door to 
 unlock it. But Henderson was too quick, and had the 
 key. Then his whole attitude changed. He dropped 
 the Scotch fun. 
 
 " Mr. Fraser, let us talk at cross purposes no longer. 
 I have evidence to hang you if Mr. Haynes dies. If 
 he recovers, I will land you in the State prison for 
 many years for assault with intent to kill, unless you 
 sign the paper I have in my pocket. It is in your 
 handwriting. Richard Leaven worth has given me 
 letters of your writing which have been compared with 
 this paper. It is blood-stained, and was found near the 
 telegraph pole where you and your associates tied 
 Haynes. Here it is." Then Bruce Fraser collapsed. 
 
 " Will you sign that paper ? " said Henderson. 
 
 " Yes, I ll sign it," he said. He took the paper, 
 dated and signed it, and Henderson affixed his own 
 name as witness. 
 
 " "When I open that door, you will find two police 
 men standing by it. Don t be troubled. They will go 
 when I give the word. If John Haynes lives, you will 
 have no trouble. If he dies, I ll hang you. I know 
 your three accomplices. If he lives, Mr. Leaven worth 
 will never mention this to you. Your work here will 
 go right on. But you still have to promise one thing. 
 When I telegraph for you, you are to come at once to 
 Grandview. It will mean that John Haynes will live, 
 but that you must come up and meet me. Will you 
 promise ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I promise," he said. Then Henderson 
 opened the door and went away, followed by the 
 policemen.
 
 AN AWFUL NIGHT 333 
 
 "When I regained consciousness, it was to become 
 aware of racking pains filling me. My head was 
 weak and sore, and the brain could give me no account 
 of where I was, nor of what had occurred. Presently 
 I noticed the peculiar garb of two women who were in 
 the room, and recognized them as nurses. I spoke 
 finally, " Will you kindly tell me where I am ? " 
 They had not noticed me apparently as being awake. 
 
 " You are with friends," one said, " but you must 
 not talk now." 
 
 " But I must preach Sunday," I said. 
 
 " Sunday is past," the woman said. " This is 
 Wednesday. You really must not talk," and both 
 nurses went out of sight. 
 
 Then came more hours of oblivion, but they were 
 hours of sleep and not of stupor. When waking came 
 again, Henderson sat by the bed, and a stranger with 
 him. They were quick to see that I waked. The 
 stranger spoke, "You ve had a good sleep, Mr. Haynes, 
 and I m glad to say you are very much better." 
 
 "Better? Sleep? Have I been ill? Where 
 am I ? " 
 
 " We will tell you to-morrow. But don t talk now. 
 Keep quiet to-day. To-morrow will find you much 
 better." 
 
 " But where am I ? Is this Duqueboro ? Was 
 there a railway accident ? " 
 
 " No, this is Grandview, and I m your doctor, and 
 this is your friend. Now, Mr. Henderson, we will go. 
 You can send your message." So the two departed. 
 
 I tried to think what had happened. But memory 
 would tell me nothing. Wearied, I gave up all effort 
 to think. By and by a consciousness came that my 
 head was wrapped in bandages. I raised my right hand
 
 334 THE MAID OF HONOll 
 
 and felt the wrappings all about my head, but the 
 movement gave me great pain in my left side, and as I 
 groaned, a nurse came quickly and said, " Oh, Mr. 
 Haynes, you must not raise your arm. You will hurt 
 your side." 
 
 " What is the matter ? Will no one tell me ? " 
 
 " Yes, the doctor will tell you. You had an acci 
 dent. But you must not talk." 
 
 So I subsided. I slept again after a time, but not 
 until I had found that my left forearm was done up 
 in splints and bandages. And still memory told me no 
 word. 
 
 The doctor and Henderson came next day. They 
 told me it was Friday, and that my condition was 
 greatly improved. " Is my arm broken ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Yes, but not badly ; that will be healed very soon." 
 
 " Is my head cut ? " 
 
 "No, but bruised, and there were severe contusions 
 of the brain." 
 
 " What makes my side so sore ? " 
 
 " A wound in the flesh above the ribs. It is not 
 serious." 
 
 "I cannot understand," I said at last. "I don t 
 know where I am, nor what has happened, nor why 
 Mr. Henderson is here. What has happened ? " 
 
 "Don t you remember being in Greenton last 
 week ? " asked Mr. Henderson. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Don t you remember coming to Grandview ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Henderson and the doctor slipped aside, and I heard 
 the doctor say, " Some sudden shock to that brain will 
 be necessary, or his days of preaching are done. His 
 memory is a blank."
 
 AX AWFUL NIGHT 335 
 
 " What shall we do ? " was the reply. I could not 
 hear the answer. Henderson, however, left the room 
 at once, and the doctor returned to me. " Be quiet a 
 little longer," he said ; " I think by another day you 
 will be so much better, you will remember some 
 things." Then he took leave. 
 
 The nurse settled me for sleep early. It must have 
 been toward ten o clock that I waked with a start and 
 a scream. "Help! help!" I shouted. "They will 
 murder me! " Over my bed stood Bruce Fraser and 
 the three men who had assaulted me. I thought I 
 was on the ground in the open lot by the telegraph 
 pole. I was struggling to jump from the bed, when the 
 hospital lights suddenly blazed up, and there were the 
 two nurses, and Henderson, and the doctor, and Alice 
 Leaven worth, and Bruce Fraser. The three men had 
 disappeared. 
 
 I lay back utterly exhausted. In a moment I said, 
 " Send Fraser away. He tried to kill me a few 
 minutes ago ; how I came here, I don t know. Send 
 him away." 
 
 " He s all right," said the doctor. " I ll come back 
 presently." 
 
 Then Bruce came up. " Mr. Haynes," he said, " I 
 have had my lesson. I did try to kill you. But God 
 saved me from that sin. Miss Leaven worth is here ; 
 Mr. Henderson is here ; here, too, is the paper I tried 
 to make you sign. It is blood-stained. But what I 
 told you to sign, I have signed. I shall never see Miss 
 Leavenworth again. This paper is yours. I am going 
 away now. I will spend the night at my father s ; 
 to-morrow I shall start out to seek a new place in life, 
 and if possible I will yet achieve something worth 
 while."
 
 XXIX 
 
 AT MY ALMA MATER 
 
 MRS. ARDMAN insisted that I should return 
 to the home which had already been so 
 hospitable, without seeking any other abid 
 ing place. " For you know, Mr. Haynes," she said, 
 " you will bring that lovely girl here in the fall, and 
 make a home of your own. It s only two months 
 now until September, and the Major wants you here." 
 
 So there I was. My left arm was in a sling and 
 would be for two weeks yet, but I was all right other 
 wise. Death had come very near to me, but a strong 
 constitution had been too much for the rider on the 
 pale horse. The feeling of young life and vigor was 
 very strong in me that night in my room in the Ard- 
 man home. 
 
 The accumulated mail had interested me greatly, 
 and one letter had not only brought a great satisfac 
 tion, but it had also thrown a whole flood of light on 
 Henderson s movements when he had left me in 
 Grandview at the close of the Assembly. The letter 
 in question was from the president of my Alma Mater, 
 announcing the intention of the corporation to confer 
 upon me the degree of Doctor of Divinity at the 
 approaching commencement. While it did not men 
 tion Henderson s name, it did say influential persons 
 from the General Assembly had presented the petition 
 asking for the honor. It was easy to jump to a con 
 clusion. 
 
 336
 
 AT MY ALMA MATER 337 
 
 The only uncertainty about being present in person 
 to receive the degree was the condition of my arm 
 and the feeling of aversion to making a display of it 
 by trying to wear academic costume. But there was 
 no harm in writing to the president of my hope to be 
 present, and to Alice I poured out my soul in a letter 
 full of joy. All that could be needed to fill my cup 
 of happiness on that commencement day would be the 
 presence of the maid of honor. But that was impos 
 sible, and the thought vanished almost as suddenly as 
 it came. 
 
 " Come down, Doctor ; there s a caller here." It 
 was Major Ardman calling from the hall below. 
 There I found David Henderson. " I am no doctor, 
 Major, even though you and my other elder there 
 have been trying to capture the title for me." 
 
 " Well, if you are no doctor, you should be ; and you 
 will be some day, too." The Major was ignoring the 
 latter part of my remark entirely. 
 
 " You speak as if by prophecy, Major Ardman, 
 and it is no wonder. You and Mr. Henderson man 
 aged that trip of his after the Assembly with great 
 skill. You thought you had your tracks all covered. 
 But this uncovers them." 
 
 I handed Henderson the president s letter. He 
 took it, read it, and with the most delightful effort at 
 further blinding me said, " Man, man, what good for 
 tune. You surprise me, you delight me. Ye ll be a 
 doctor, juist as Geordie said the noo. How did ye 
 work it ? Who did ye get to go wi your peteetion ? " 
 
 " I didn t work it," I answered. " A friend of 
 mine, unknown to me, got another friend of mine, 
 also unknown to me, to go with a petition to Midaston. 
 And that letter is the result."
 
 338 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Oh, man ! But ye re the great one for the unex 
 pected. Who was the friend, noo ? " 
 
 " A queer Scotch elder who was at the Assembly," 
 I said. 
 
 " Oh, aye, I mind him. Dae ye remember him, 
 Geordie? A feckless, blue-eyed, pinched-up weazen- 
 faced Scotchman. He was frae Greenton, I doot. 
 Was it MacNaughton ? He has changed since he gave 
 up the whiskey, I doot." 
 
 " No, my friend, it was not MacNaughton. It was 
 no Greenton man. It was a Duqueboro man." 
 
 " Was it you, Geordie, an ye never telt me ? " said 
 Henderson. 
 
 " No, it was you, Mr. Henderson. Own up now ! 
 You went a day in advance of me from Grandview. 
 You went direct to Midaston. You came back to 
 Greenton. You did it. Own up ! Confess!" 
 
 "He s brought you to bay, David," the Major 
 laughed. " Yes, Doctor, I can t deny it. He did it." 
 
 " An hae ye telt Alice yet, lad ? It wasna dune 
 for ye, but for the lassie. Wad ye bring her here a 
 bride, an hae Phyllis Lorraine tossin her head an 
 say in that that Henry the Eighth Papist husband o 
 hers had two D s after his name, an ye never a 
 one ? " 
 
 When the laugh that made had subsided, I said, 
 " Well, elder, friend, comrade, you have made me 
 very happy indeed, and I thank you. There s only 
 one thing necessary to fill my cup to running over, 
 and that is to have Alice at commencement to wit 
 ness the ceremony. But I can t ask her brother to go 
 with her, and without him tis impossible. Conven 
 tionality is a stern mistress." 
 
 " Lad, canna ye stir wi oot your Alice ? But I
 
 AT MY ALMA MATER 339 
 
 don t blame ye. I d be so masel only it s contrary to 
 Scripture." 
 
 " What s contrary to Scripture ? " I asked astonished, 
 
 " To have women goin to the colleges." 
 
 " There s nothing about women and colleges in the 
 Scriptures, Mr. Henderson." 
 
 "An ye a preacher, an not know that Huldah 
 dwelt in the college in Jerusalem ? But she was a 
 prophetess, an your Alice is no prophetess. An 
 what wad yer Alice be at the college for, not bein a 
 prophetess ? " 
 
 "Why, to see the ceremony, and to learn how they 
 do things at the commencements. It is a fine sight 
 for one who has never witnessed it." 
 
 " Hoot, man ! Wad ye hae her tryin to learn aboot 
 the ways o the college ? An ye a preacher ! I say 
 again, doesna the Scripture say, If they will learn 
 anything, let them ask their husbands at hame ? An 
 yer Alice hasna any husband, though she might be 
 wantin one, I doot." 
 
 "Well, it s outside the conventionalities, anyhow," 
 I said, and I considered that final. But the Scotch 
 man answered, " Man, ye re incorrigible. I said 
 naething aboot conventionalities. I said it wad be 
 contrary to the Scriptures. An it wad be, I doot." 
 
 Almost the first thing I saw, when I took my place 
 on the commencement platform in the old White 
 Church in Midaston, was a group in the far gallery of 
 the packed house, that made me stare in dumb won 
 der. There sat Mrs. Henderson, and Alice Leaven- 
 worth, and the wizard. They saw me also, and the 
 smile the girl sent across was entrancing. It made
 
 340 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 me forget how awkwardly my gown was hanging 
 over the arm in the sling. That smile has never gone 
 out of my life. When the time came for me to rise 
 and receive investiture with the insignia of the doc 
 tor s degree, some enthusiastic member of the old fra 
 ternity called, " Now, boys, here s to old Jack Haynes. 
 Let her go." And the whole student body roared 
 out, "D-O-C, Doc. T-O-R, tor. Doctor. J-A-C-K, 
 Jack. Doctor Jack. Rah Rah Rah." The mar 
 shal thumped with his cane in vain. He called at the 
 top of his voice, " Gentlemen of the college, order ! 
 silence ! Order, gentlemen ! " It was useless. The 
 great audience added its uproarious laughter to the 
 disorder the students had made, and in the midst of it 
 the recipient of the degree, decorated with the doc 
 tor s scarlet band and the cerulean blue and white of 
 the college, resumed his seat. But it was only for 
 a moment. The marshal crossed the platform to 
 present a splendid bunch of pink roses, and as the new 
 doctor rose to accept it, the " Rah Rah Rah " of 
 the students rang out once more. A card attached to 
 the lovely gift bore the single word " Alice." 
 ****** 
 
 The Grandview papers gave an elaborate account of 
 the wedding in the old First Church, on September 
 the seventh. The lady who was the central figure 
 has the record among her treasured keepsakes. The 
 day was as beautiful as ever came out of the treasures 
 of time, and the bride was the loveliest my eyes ever 
 rested on, though in a long pastoral life I have been 
 at close range with many brides. The Kir Jear 
 Church was well represented. David and Mrs. Hen 
 derson were there ; Major and Mrs. Ardman ; and, of 
 course, Felix and Julia.
 
 AT MY ALMA MATER 341 
 
 As Alice and I had acted as chief assistants at St. 
 David s, \ve made turn-about-fair-play at Grandview, 
 for Phyllis Lorraine was matron of honor, and Harry 
 Sinclair was best man, with Felix and Joe as ushers. 
 What began at St. David s had come at last to its con 
 summation at Grandview, and the minister of the 
 Paoli monument was the officiating clergyman.
 
 XXX 
 
 THE GREENTON CENTENNIAL 
 
 TWELVE years had passed, and Ruth Wyllis 
 Haynes was ten years old. It was the year 
 of the Greenton Centennial, and the local 
 Committee of Arrangements had invited their former 
 townsman and one-time pastor to be a speaker at the 
 celebration. So when October came our little family 
 set out for the dear old place. Alice had seen it only 
 once, when we were on our wedding journey, and 
 Ruth Wyllis had only heard of it as the home where 
 her father had been a little boy. I had not been 
 there in twelve years. Kipling s couplet: 
 
 11 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
 Lest we forget, lest we forget," 
 
 should be imbedded in every soul. We do forget. 
 Our multitudinous life almost compels that. When 
 my old home in Greenton was left behind to be my 
 home no more forever, I thought the place and its 
 people would always be uppermost in memory, and 
 they were for a time. I knew when Jim Garvey 
 returned from Salisbury jail, and how good Elder 
 Harfis gave him work, and then slowly, almost 
 unconsciously, he passed into memory s shadow-land. 
 In the ten years that had elapsed since Ruth Wyllis 
 was born, I had hardly thought of him. The work at 
 Duqueboro was intense. There were many hoboes in 
 Henderson s city. The Kir Jear Church was the 
 
 342
 
 THE GREENTON CENTENNIAL 343 
 
 most influential socially of any in the flourishing 
 town, and Henderson was absurdly ambitious to have 
 his pastor a leader in every line. Little by little my 
 letters to Tim and Joe had become separated by wider 
 and wider intervals, and for five years my knowledge of 
 the happenings in Greenton had been of the most casual 
 character. Thoughts of this sort made me regretful 
 as the distance between us and our destination grew 
 hourly less, and Alice talked much of what we might 
 expect to find. Ruth Wyllis was especially inter 
 ested, and asked many questions. She had been 
 taught to call Wendell " L r ncle Tim," and her 
 curiosity about him was great. The things of which 
 we were sure were a trifle saddening, as we thought 
 of them. We knew that Elder Harfis had passed to 
 his eternal reward. Joe Smith and Helen were no 
 longer in the old town. Three years before he had 
 been called to the strongest Congregational church in 
 Boston. Mrs. Harfis was living with Helen in 
 Boston. 
 
 My anticipations had their mainspring in the fact 
 that Tim Wendell and his good wife were to be our 
 hosts. Tim was mayor of Greenton now, and men 
 called him the Hon. Timothy Wendell. 
 
 We broke the journey by a stop at Grandview for a 
 night in the old home. The dear mother was still 
 there, and sat with us for a while, watching the lovely 
 scene under the October moonlit sky. She went at 
 last to the library, taking Ruth, and leaving Alice 
 and me alone in the hammock, as in the long ago. 
 
 Kind nature had been good to Alice, giving her the 
 grace of eternal youth. Some old friends, who called 
 later that night, said, " Alice, you don t look one day 
 older than on that September day twelve years ago
 
 344 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 when you walked out of the old church." "Why 
 should she look older ? No great sorrow had come to 
 her. Love had walked with her wherever she went, 
 making friends of all persons whom her life touched, 
 and the peace of God that passeth all understanding 
 was in her heart. 
 
 We would have staid longer in that earthly para 
 dise, had it been possible, but our Mecca was beyond. 
 Northward we set our faces, and on a Friday evening 
 came to Greenton. The charm of reaching the old 
 city was gone, for the wheels of the Concord coach 
 which carried me in my college days had rolled their 
 last roll. A railway from Greenton tapped the main 
 line northward from Troy, and a steam whistle 
 screeched through the hills in place of the sound of 
 the old stage horn. Wendell s carriage was at the 
 train, and we were driven rapidly to his fine residence 
 next my old home. Wendell had prospered, and my 
 heart rejoiced as I saw how time had been good to 
 him. Our welcome was delightful. Mrs. Wendell 
 took Euth Wyllis straight to her heart, her first 
 remark on seeing her being, " That child is very 
 beautiful. She is the image of her mother." That 
 little refrain was sung by many voices ere our 
 Greenton visit ended: and I may as well confess now 
 as later that it is possible for a former pastor to find 
 when he returns after long absence to visit his old 
 parish, and brings his handsome daughter and still 
 more beautiful wife with him, that he no longer 
 occupies the first place in the notice of his old people. 
 
 I knew that the church had secured a pastor after 
 Joe s departure, but even his name had gone from me 
 until he called upon us the morning after our arrival. 
 The moment, however, that I entered the room where
 
 THE GREENTON CENTENNIAL 345 
 
 he was waiting, I knew him, and a flood of memories 
 poured over me. Out of the past rose the " Castle 
 of Indolence " and the bare-footed, freckled, sandy- 
 haired boy that we called " Hank." As he advanced 
 with outstretched hand I said, " Thornton Eev. 
 Henry Thornton ? Why, I know you. You are 
 Hank, of the Castle of Indolence on Indian Lake." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " I m David Thornton s son." 
 
 " What started you out, Mr. Thornton ? " 
 
 " The Squire and you." 
 
 " Why, how ? " I asked in some astonishment. " I 
 never talked with you about leaving the forest ; I 
 thought a guide s boys never left the lakes." 
 
 " Most of them never do," he replied. " But don t 
 you know how you and the Squire used to bring paper- 
 covered books to the cabin ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember that." 
 
 " Well, you left a lot of them, one time and another. 
 I read them, and came to understand after a while, 
 that the world was bigger than Indian Lake, that there 
 were loftier mountains than Old Snowy, and fairer, 
 larger rivers than Jessup s, and more things to know 
 than how to trap muskrat and otter, and shoot deer, 
 and angle for trout, and I began to want to know, just 
 to know something about this world. One day my 
 father came upon me reading. He stopped, looked at 
 me a minute, and then called out, Hank, ain t you 
 readin a good deal ? < Ain t got much to read, I 
 answered. * Ain t you readin a good deal, Hank ? 
 Ain t neglectin nothin , be I ? I said. He walked 
 slowly back toward me and said, No, d no s you be. 
 But sho ! fellers ain t no good for guides, that reads. 
 Got more deer than you did, last hunt, dad, I said. 
 Oh, tain t spiled ye yet, but twill. Ye kin make
 
 346 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 preachers an doctors an lawyers out o book larnin , 
 but ye can t make guides. Wai, I don t b leeve I kin 
 quit, dad, I said. Don t b leeve ye kin, nuther, he 
 answered. More n that, don t b leeve I want ye to, 
 nuther. I was sitting on that big rock down by the 
 shore; you remember it, Mr. Haynes. Well, my 
 father came and sat down and went on with his talk. 
 * Hank, I allers wanted ye to go to school, but I 
 couldn t make it. But you ve got hold o books, an 
 ye won t be no good no more. If ye want to go to 
 Wes port this winter to school, go on. I can t help ye 
 any, but ye kin get jobs an arn yer own way. 
 That s the way I came to go out of the woods, Dr. 
 Haynes," he ended. " Summers, I guided. Nine 
 months of the year, I studied. I earned my own way 
 all through. I had no money to spend on follies, but 
 I had enough. You and I have the same Alma Mater. 
 I went to Union Seminary. When Dr. Smith went to 
 Boston, the Squire brought me over here, and here I 
 am, your host, Dr. Haynes, and proud I am to have 
 you in my pulpit, proud to have for mine the pulpit 
 which once was yours." 
 
 That night a banquet was to be given to the mayor 
 and the visiting guests, including the Governor of the 
 State, by the Greenton Bummers Club. When Tim 
 told me of that, I said, " Tim, you don t mean to tell 
 me that the club has survived Joe Smith s departure 
 from Greenton ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," was his response. " The departure of two 
 Joes couldn t break up that club. That institution 
 has made this town the sweetest, cleanest town in this 
 country. We ve been a prohibition community under 
 local option now for ten years. That club has 
 done it."
 
 THE GREENTON CENTENNIAL 347 
 
 " But what do they do ? " was my eager question. 
 
 " Follow their leader and his lieutenant. There 
 hasn t been a man in the lockup for drunkenness in six 
 years. If a man is ever seen on the streets drunk, one 
 of the club has him down to Bob s in short order. 
 They give him a hot bath, and a shower, and a rub, 
 and put him to bed. When he wakes, he gets a good 
 square meal and has an interview with Bob or Jim 
 before he can get away. They seldom have the same 
 fellow twice." 
 
 " So Jimmie MacNaughton holds right on, does he ? " 
 
 " No, Doctor. Jimmie don t hold on. Jimmie let 
 go four years ago." 
 
 " Well, that s sad, Tim. I thought he would stay 
 sober and true until he died." 
 
 " Well, who said he didn t ? " 
 
 " Why, you, just now. You said he went to drink 
 ing again, four years ago." 
 
 " See here, Doctor ! you used to be smarter than 
 that. I never said he went to drinking. I said he let 
 go. So he did let go the club ; let go life ; let go 
 earth ; let go hard times ; and took tight hold of 
 glory. Jimmie started on the up-grade almost the 
 first day of the great revival, and he kept right on 
 going up for twelve years. He s on the top of the 
 grade now." 
 
 " Yes, I understand. But see here, Tim. Let the 
 4 Doctor go. Call me Jack, can t you ? No one 
 does, any more. Joe s gone, and Harry Sinclair s 
 become professor in the Divinity School in Phila 
 delphia, and I m Jack to no one now but Alice." 
 
 Tim laughed. "Well," he replied, "as your Mr. 
 Henderson would say, ye re juist as near daft as ye 
 ever were, I doot. "
 
 38 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 That Saturday night, Joe came. I was to preach in 
 the morning and he at night, in the old church. Joe 
 was guest of other friends, so that I did not see him 
 until we met at the banquet, at which function we were 
 received by the president, Mr. Robert Hazeltine, and, 
 wonder of wonders, by the vice-president, Mr. James 
 Garvey. To say that astonishment made me dumb, is 
 to put it mildly. A poor wretch, struggling against 
 gin and tobacco, down on the floor of a cell in the 
 county jail, saying, " Jesus Christ, I don t want you 
 to fergit," had gotten out from " the under side of 
 things," and was away up on the upper side, evidently 
 destined to be there till death. He stood before me, 
 erect, broad-shouldered, clear-faced, keen-eyed, well- 
 dressed. The hand that grasped mine was strong. 
 And this was the " Jim " of whom Wendell had 
 spoken, who, with Bob, was making Greenton a city 
 of righteousness. 
 
 "Mr. Haynes," he said, "I can t call you Doctor 
 I do not receive you to-night quite as I did the last 
 time you saw me. I was in Salisbury jail then but 
 I ll never be there again, thank God and thank you." 
 
 "Jim, this all seems strange to me I can t realize 
 it. You ve been a far stronger man than I supposed 
 you would be. You ve won a wonderful victory over 
 yourself, and I ll always think of you as a hero of self- 
 conquest." 
 
 "No," said he, "you re wrong. Remember, when 
 I asked you what had happened to Jimmie Mac- 
 Naughton and Bob, that they d stopped drinking, you 
 said, Jesus Christ had happened to em ? Well, that s 
 how it was with me. I did nothing I couldn t. 
 Jesus Christ happened to me. He s done it all." 
 
 The banquet was a memorable occasion. Bob knew
 
 THE GEEENTON CENTENNIAL 349 
 
 ho\y to set a good table, and the spread was fine. But 
 the best of it came after dinner, when Joe Smith and 
 the Governor, who both excelled in after-dinner speak 
 ing, caused abundant laughter and a rare good time. 
 Finally Bob rose, saying : 
 
 "The last speech will be by Mr. James Garvey, 
 commonly known as Jim." 
 
 Jim rose. 
 
 "Mr. President," he began, "I m no speaker. 
 Thirteen years ago, if you had asked me in this club 
 to speak, I d have said, I ain t up to her, Bob, I ain t 
 up to her ! : 
 
 Starting so, he went on to tell what I already knew, 
 of the wretchedness of his life until he landed in 
 Salisbury jail. 
 
 " The day I got out," he went on, " Jimmie Mac- 
 Naughton was at the door. He brought me down 
 home, and took me to Dr. Smith s, who lived in Mr. 
 Haynes old home. Mr. President, Dr. and Mrs. 
 Smith gave me just such a meal that night as Mr. 
 Haynes had, and put me to bed in the same room I d 
 been in before. That fixed me for good and all. 
 
 " Next day, Mr. Harfis took me into his employ, and 
 the only thing he said was, Garvey, you re going to 
 be a man, and I want a little part in the job. I 
 worked there three years. Then one day, Mr. Harfis 
 said, "What do you do with your money, Mr. Gar 
 vey? No man had ever called me Mr. Garvey 
 before. I said I d saved a little, about five hundred 
 dollars. He asked me if he might have it to in vest for 
 me, and I agreed. Then he doubled my wages. 
 
 " Well," continued Jim, " he took my savings every 
 month, and when he died his books showed that out 
 of what he had invested for me he had made ten
 
 350 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 thousand dollars, and had it in five per cent, bonds. 
 That sounds big, but it s true. Then Bob came to 
 me" he had forgotten to address the president, in 
 his earnestness " and said, Garvey, Jimmie Mac- 
 JSTaughton s sick, and he s not going to get well. I 
 want some one to help me run the club, and we ll pay 
 you five hundred dollars, with your board. So here I 
 am. 
 
 " I ve studied a good deal, these last five years. I ve 
 committed speeches to memory, so as to learn how to 
 talk as I ought. But I don t deserve any credit. 
 Everything is due to the men who helped. Mr. 
 Haynes once told me there was a man in me some 
 where, and he was going to try to let him out. I 
 think he has and the rest of you have kept him out. 
 Sometimes there are steep places and it s hard to go, 
 but I m going yet. 
 
 "Now, all I have to say is this. All that has 
 happened to me has come out of Christ s wonderful 
 grace, but Mr. Haynes is the man who put me in the 
 way of receiving that grace ; so I m going to close by 
 saying what I said to him that night, thirteen years 
 ago, at the door of the best room in his house, when 
 he caught me with his mother s jewelry in my hand, 
 Say, preacher, you re the best man I ever seen. 
 
 " Mr. Haynes," he ended, coming over to me, 
 " there s your five hundred dollars bail money, and 
 interest at six per cent for fifteen years." He handed 
 me a draft for nine hundred and fifty dollars. As 
 he laid it on the table before me, Joe Smith leaped to 
 his feet, crying, " Bummers ! three cheers for Jim 
 Garvey ! hip, hip " and the hurrahs that followed 
 almost took off the roof of Bob s old tavern. When 
 quiet came, the Governor of the State rose.
 
 THE GREEXTOX CENTENNIAL 351 
 
 " Mr. Garvey," said he, "you were a convict in Sing 
 Sing?" 
 
 " Yes, your Honor." 
 
 " Have you ever received papers of pardon ? " 
 
 " Xo, your Honor." 
 
 " Very well. Your pardon and restoration to 
 citizenship will be forwarded as soon as I return to 
 Albany." And once more Joe led in cheers. 
 
 I told Alice the story of the evening when we were 
 alone together, and she said, " Jack dear, to have had a 
 part in saving the soul of such a man is worth while." 
 And it was. He had traveled a great distance from 
 the degradation in which he was twelve years before, 
 to the heights of honor on which he was standing now. 
 From silver cup stolen to bail bond paid was the 
 length of the diameter of the moral universe. 
 
 The events of the Centennial went one by one as 
 they had been programmed, but for me the climax was 
 the banquet of the Bummers Club. 
 
 Alice and Ruth and I were at home again ere long, 
 but often for weeks Alice would say to me, " What a 
 Saviour our Saviour is, Jack. He has saved Joe and 
 Bob and Tim and that awful Garvey."
 
 XXXI 
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 
 
 TWELVE years of intense activity had left 
 their marks upon the lives of those whose for 
 tunes have been unfolded in my story. They 
 could be seen most plainly upon Major Ardman. He 
 was past eighty now, and though he made no com 
 plaint, his days were labor and sorrow. The fact did 
 not seem to disturb the Major, but it was a cause of 
 much solicitude to David Henderson. When the 
 Major began to be absent from church occasionally on 
 Sunday morning, David said : 
 
 " The Major is comin to his last days. He ll be 
 goin awa soon, I doot. That will be the ringin o a 
 warnin bell for me, man. That will mean Hender 
 son s last days are comin . I ken it weel." 
 
 It was my duty to pass these forebodings on to a 
 distant day with such grace as was in me. For a time 
 it was not very hard ; but when failing strength had 
 put an end to the Major s daily visit at the eventide 
 to Henderson s library, my task was more difficult. 
 The end came suddenly at last, as it is wont to do. 
 Sunday before Christmas, none of the Ardmans and 
 none of the Hendersons were in church, and I was not 
 surprised when, at the end of the morning service, a 
 note was handed me by an usher, announcing that the 
 Major had gone home. 
 
 Of course the shock was great to us all. This was 
 the first break in the session of the Kir Jear Church 
 
 352
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 353 
 
 during my pastorate. The first words David Hender 
 son said to me were : 
 
 " Disintegration of the session has begun, I doot. 
 I ll be goin next, laddie." That was all the allusion 
 he made to the event, until affairs in my own family 
 reached a point that caused him to speak in the same 
 strain again. 
 
 The twelve years had made changes in the people 
 who dwelt in the manse. No single expression will 
 show what was the nature of these changes more 
 clearly than this. Almost every night, while Alice sat 
 with me in the library, Ruth Wyllis was spending her 
 evening in the parlor with David Henderson Ardman. 
 They had been children together. But David had 
 never seemed to care much for the girls, until Ruth 
 Wyllis came home from college just a year before. 
 Then he, and Kir Jear Church in general, waked to the 
 fact that the girl was beautiful. 
 
 There was no better young man in Duqueboro than 
 this grandson of Major Ardman. He was a law- 
 student in his Grandfather Henderson s office, and 
 bade fair to be an honor to his antecedents. 
 
 As for Alice and me, we were both growing old. I 
 was fifty-four, and my hair as white as it will ever 
 be. But Alice and her daughter were taken for 
 sisters, often and often, by strangers and casual 
 acquaintances. 
 
 Such was the condition of affairs at the manse, 
 when one night in the February that followed the 
 Major s death, Henderson came in and seating himself 
 before the open fire in my library, remained for a long 
 time without saying a single word. I knew him too 
 well to disturb his meditation. When finally he spoke, 
 he said :
 
 354: THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Man ! Doctor ! that grandson o mine is gey fond 
 o your daughter, I doot." 
 
 "That s not so very strange," I answered, "con 
 sidering who her mother is." 
 
 " Ye re right, Doctor. I m only sorry I hadna been 
 young, so she might have had a husband equal to her. 
 But it s the lad, no the mither, I m thinkin aboot." 
 
 " Well what you said made me think of the girl, 
 and the girl made me think of her mother. People 
 say she s the image of her mother." 
 
 " Man ! Doctor ! ye never was gratefu enough to 
 me, for marryin ye to yon girl ye didna appreeciate 
 me." 
 
 " Why, my good elder," and I laughed, as I always 
 must at Henderson, " I had a lurking thought that I 
 won her myself." 
 
 " Lurkin thought, lad ! Why, I threw ye bodily at 
 the girl, an she took ye oot o peety." As Henderson 
 aged, his Scotch dialect was becoming more marked. 
 
 I knew my man, so I made no reply. Presently he 
 started on another tack. 
 
 " Yon s a good lad, yon Da vie." 
 
 " He couldn t very well be other than good, with 
 such a grandfather." I answered. 
 
 " Man, man, you mustna ca me guid like that an 
 leave the Major oot. The Major was a good man, 
 an I was his friend, an I can t hae him put at 
 disadvantage by leavin him oot." 
 
 Once more I waited for him to say what was in his 
 mind. As I expected, he continued about the boy. 
 
 "He ll make a fine lawyer, yon boy. He ll hae 
 plenty o siller. He ll be wantin to marry your 
 daughter, I doot." 
 
 " Well," I answered, " that won t displease me any
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 355 
 
 but I m not so sure about the girl. You know, her 
 mother sent his father hunting in other fields." 
 
 "Aye, I ken. But Felix wasn t Da vie; and Ruth, 
 your lass, isn t her mither oh, no, no ! " 
 
 "Well," I said thoughtfully, "Mr. Henderson, if 
 Ruth Wyllis doesn t object, her mother and I won t." 
 
 " Man ! Doctor ! dinna ca me Mr. Henderson. Ca 
 me David. No one ca s me David, noo the Major s 
 gone, an I miss him. So I want ye to ca me by the 
 Major s name. Ca me David." 
 
 " Well, David, I will." 
 
 " But, man ! Doctor ! aboot the marryin . It would 
 be a richt fine way to have them married before I dee, 
 I doot." 
 
 "Now, David," I answered, "you talk too much 
 about dying, lately. It s not healthful. We all die. 
 The Major went when God s time came. Your time 
 will come, and mine. But we mustn t be troubled 
 over that." 
 
 " But, man, canna ye see ? I want them married 
 before I dee. An if they re no, we canna leave 
 them here alane, when we gae to the Canyon in the 
 spring, you an Alice an Felix an Julia and Mrs. Hen 
 derson an me." 
 
 So that was what all this long beating about the 
 bush had meant. I was quick to answer. " It may 
 be that the trip to the Canyon can be arranged, but 
 that those two young people should be married is out 
 of the question. Neither the girl nor the mother 
 would consent to that. Besides, they are not even 
 engaged yet." 
 
 " Ah, but, man, they will be : they will be. An if 
 we canna gae to the Canyon till they be married, they 
 must be married before we gae ; an I must go in May,
 
 356 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 I doot, for I shall gae on ma lang, lone journey before 
 anither May. Dinna shake yer held, man, Doctor. 
 I ken : I ken it weel." With that he left me. 
 
 The night before we started on the Western trip, 
 when the packing was all finished, and the trunks 
 were gone to the station for the early morning train, 
 the doors between the parlor and library were sud 
 denly thrown back, and there stood Ruth Wyllis and 
 David Ardman, hand in hand. Alice and I were in. 
 our usual places, on opposite sides of the table. I saw 
 her turn very pale ; my own heart jumped wildly for 
 a moment. We both knew what was coming. The 
 reason for it was plain enough. Alice had steadily 
 declined to start on the long journey, leaving Ruth 
 Wyllis behind. Young David had no intention of 
 having the width of the continent between him and 
 the girl he loved, with the chance of her seeing other 
 men whom she might fancy more than she fancied 
 him, unless he himself had made sure of her, if he 
 could, before she went. 
 
 So there they stood and how handsome they were ! 
 Young David was as direct as his grandfather was 
 indirect. 
 
 " Mrs. Haynes," he said, and his voice was firm, " Dr. 
 Haynes I have told Ruth Wyllis I love her and 
 have asked her to be my wife ; the answer she has 
 made is, that she can do, will do nothing, without your 
 consent. She has not even told me she loves me, but 
 I think I know. May I have your daughter for my 
 wife?" 
 
 Alice rose and walked across to Ruth with a quick 
 step. Emotion was sweeping in waves over her 
 face: 
 
 " Baby dear, you have been my love and joy for
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 357 
 
 twenty-two years. I have seen that this must come, 
 but I was not quite ready for it. Are you ready, 
 dear? Do you love Mr. Ardman ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother," was her low reply. 
 
 Turning to me, Alice said, " Jack, we can do this, 
 can t we ? " What could be said to that but " yes " ? 
 But though my lips said " yes," my eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 
 Alice turned back to David Ardman. She put her 
 arms around his neck and kissed him, then, looking at 
 Ruth "Wyllis, said, " Now you can give him your 
 answer, dearie." Ruth lifted her face to the strong 
 young man, and said with burning cheeks, " Do you 
 need an answer, laddie ? " And with that they two 
 slipped back into the parlor and closed the door. 
 David Henderson Ardman had come between Ruth 
 Wyllis and her mother, even as John Haynes had come 
 between Alice Leaven worth and her mother, twenty- 
 five years before. 
 
 **#*## 
 
 Ten days later, I stood with Alice on a projecting 
 point of the wall of the southern rim of the Grand 
 Canyon of the Colorado. We saw the sun sink west 
 ward to lose itself behind the sands and summits of 
 the Mojave Desert, and yet we made no move to go. 
 We had wandered away from the rest of the company, 
 taking the path close to the edge of the mighty preci 
 pices. We had been away thus since just after noon 
 day, finding with each new point of view new wonders 
 of light and color and far perspective. We had 
 reached this projecting promontory just before the 
 sunset, and stood there oblivious to all on earth save 
 the glories of the vast gorge. Far away across the 
 colossal chasm, the north wall of the Canyon lifted
 
 358 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 itself against the sky, and made a horizon line of pur 
 ple and emerald and ruby, gleaming and flashing, as 
 the westering sun moved farther and farther down 
 toward night. To the east and west, whichever way 
 we turned our entranced gaze, were piled in masses 
 bewildering in the wonder of their beauty, buttes and 
 domes and pinnacles and towers, bastions and turrets 
 and amphitheatres, all tinted as if gigantic genii with 
 brush and color had touched them but yesterday. 
 Far off in the southeast rose the twin peaks of the 
 San Francisco mountains, shining like burnished silver 
 as the sunlight was reflected from their crowns of 
 snow. A sheer mile below, like a winding thread 
 flowed the great river, pressing with impatient force 
 out through these rocky confines toward the ocean. 
 
 How long we might have stood there unvexed by 
 thought of time or place, I do not know. We were on 
 the rim of the world, and night might have overtaken 
 us still watching there, unheeding all but God, but for 
 the sound of wheels and a familiar voice : 
 
 " Daft ! clean daft, I doot. I always kenned one 
 was, but I didna suppose the other was, ever." 
 
 As Alice and I turned, there was the carriage in 
 which Henderson and Ruth Wyllis were seeking us. 
 
 Supper was late. The belated evening train had 
 just arrived. The dining-room was crowded, but at 
 the table next ours sat four people, the sight of whom 
 almost made me shout. They were Joe Smith and 
 Helen, with Mr. Harris and a lad}*- whom I rightly 
 judged to be his wife. There was immediate inter 
 change of salutations and presentations, after which 
 Henderson lapsed into an unusual silence. Through 
 the whole supper he made no slightest allusion to the 
 newcomers. But no sooner was the meal finished
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 359 
 
 than he approached my cousin, and, gravely shaking 
 hands with him again, said : 
 
 " Ye hae a preacher in tow, an I hae anither. Ye re 
 tired o yours, I doot. They re a great responsibility." 
 
 "Oh, no," was the answer. " I m not tired of my 
 preacher. I don t think you are of yours. But we ve 
 changed since we parted years ago." 
 
 " So I would be thinkin . Ye re growin old. But 
 ye re no too old to travel wi me for the trip we re 
 takin . It will rest ye frae too much preacher, I doot." 
 
 Harris laughed as he replied, " I ve not had too 
 much preacher, if you mean Dr. Smith. He s a rare 
 companion. I am surprised if you have had too much 
 of your preacher, for I traveled with him for six 
 months, and did not weary of him in the least." 
 
 " Oh, aye, ye might travel wi him sax months and 
 not be weary. I ve been listenin to him for twenty- 
 five years, an I m no weary. There s many a waur 
 companion and many a waur preacher, if ye only kent 
 where to look for em. But, man, ye must travel wi 
 us. I wad finish the conversation." 
 
 " "What conversation, Mr. Henderson ? " 
 
 " What one would it be but that aboot releegion, 
 which we hadna time for on the ither journey. Ye 
 remember ye didna ken what releegion was." 
 
 With another hearty laugh, Harris turned to me. 
 " You know I told you Mr. Henderson would talk 
 of nothing, that time we met on shipboard, except 
 religion. And now he says we had not time for it." 
 
 "An we didna, man we didna. D ye mind 
 how I was holdin that releegion was the soul o man 
 seekin to achieve the life o God in this world ? An 
 ye mind ye wouldna accept that defineetion ? Ye ll 
 travel wi our party an finish the discussion, I doot."
 
 360 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " I remember well that I did not agree with your 
 definition, but my memory as to what it was is not so 
 good as yours. I would have said you claimed that 
 religion was believing what the catechism " 
 
 " Hoot, man, how could I be sayin sic a thing as 
 that, if I didna believe it ? An how would I be re- 
 mernberin a defineetion if I didna give it ? At what 
 are ye laughin , Doctor ? " turning sharply on me. 
 " It s no manners to laugh sic a way at Mr. Harris. 
 I m no laughin at him. D ye mind what the 
 Buik says aboot the cracklin o thorns under a 
 pot?" 
 
 Of course I had recognized my own definition given 
 on that ride to Jersey City so long ago, and I remem 
 bered how Tim Wendell had prophesied that I would 
 live to hear Henderson quote it as his own. I at once 
 understood my Scotchman s purpose, though Mr. 
 Harris had not the least idea that he was being used 
 for a bit of by-play with me. Henderson would 
 almost as soon have lost his tongue as confess to me 
 directly that he had adopted my definition, and the 
 little ruse by which he managed to give me this infor 
 mation was intensely amusing. So I continued to 
 laugh in spite of his rebuke. 
 
 " Ah, man," he cried reproachfully, " ye re incor 
 rigible wi your laughter. What will the man think 
 o ye ? Are ye gone daft ? " 
 
 "No, no, David," I answered. "I m only delighted 
 to hear you corner the Congregationalist. But why 
 didn t you get this settled in correspondence long ago ? " 
 
 "Man, d ye think that arguments sic as I would 
 mak can be put into friendly epeestles ? An we had 
 better things to write aboot than sic rideeculous 
 matters as catechism releegion."
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 301 
 
 "My friend, 1 said Harris now with great gravity, 
 " if I ever said what you attribute to me, I renounce it 
 all. I accept your definition. I never heard it before, 
 but it s good, and I ll write it in ray note-book." 
 
 Henderson finished the incident. 
 
 " You, a man o intelligence, never heerd it before ! 
 Why, man, I ve been hearin it for twenty-five years. 
 Ye ought to come to Duqueboro an be a Presbyterian. 
 The Doctor there an I have been knowin aboot yon 
 defineetion for twenty -five years. But I m glad, I m 
 more glad than I can tell ye that ye ve consented to 
 travel wi us for the journey." 
 
 Then Joe Smith went out into the outer office of 
 the hotel, and laughed as if he would collapse. 
 
 When we reached home, the weeks until September 
 the seventh were very full of anticipation at the manse. 
 Henderson s delight knew no bounds. But though he 
 came to see me every day, we saw that the good man s 
 last days were coming on. He had given up his pro 
 fessional life before going across the continent ; and 
 when he was settled back into the old haunts, the 
 strain of the non-occupation was breaking the tough 
 Scotch constitution. Then, too, he missed his own boy, 
 David, Jr., who had married and gone to Texas a few 
 years before, to take charge of his interests there. He 
 had promised to come up for the wedding festivities, 
 and a new fear took Henderson now, that he might 
 not live to see his son. 
 
 "Man, Doctor," he would say, "d ye think I ll 
 dee before the day ? " Often he asked that. And my 
 answer always was : 
 
 " Die, David ? and you to have such a grand-
 
 362 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 daughter as Ruth Wyllis ? No, you ll not die for a 
 
 long time, we hope " 
 
 " No, ye dinna : Jack, ye dinna. Ye know I shall 
 
 dee ere long, I doot " 
 
 But the day caine the anniversary of Alice s 
 wedding-day and mine, and it was to be the wedding- 
 day of Ruth and David Ardman. The marriage 
 ceremony was in the church, and the reception was 
 given by Mrs. Henderson. No happier man was ever 
 seen than David Henderson that night. He forgot all 
 his forebodings, and was as he was in the days of his 
 power. 
 
 But what of Alice on that wedding-night ? Back 
 to the manse, alone in our room, she threw her arms 
 around my neck, crying, " Jack ! we are just as we 
 were twenty-five years ago. Our baby has gone. 
 We re all alone now : now and for aye. We shall not 
 have twenty-five years more. The years we have had 
 are beyond compare. I never thought a man could 
 
 make a woman as happy as I have been." 
 
 ****** 
 
 On the morning after the wedding, David came to 
 the study. His face was radiant. "Man, Doctor," 
 he began, " I can dee happy noo. They are married, 
 thae young things, an the twa are handsomer than 
 you an Alice, I doot. Man, the girl s not as beauti 
 ful as her mother; but the laddie Losh ! he s far 
 
 an awa beyond ye. He luiks like me, I doot." 
 
 " Yes," I laughed, " if having eyes and nose and 
 mouth makes one look like another." 
 
 " Hoot, man ! Doctor ! Don t joke wi a deein 
 man I m goin the journey now they re married." 
 
 " Not yet, David," I replied, " not yet." I spoke 
 as cheerily as I could, for always, when he talked
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 363 
 
 in such strain, he was moved by emotions which waked 
 the overtone in my own soul. 
 
 " Yes, soon now, John " He had never called 
 
 me " John " before, and the new note moved me still 
 more deeply. He continued talking. 
 
 "I said John, ye mind. That is because ye re 
 my son now. Ruth is your daughter, isna she ? An 
 noo that she s married to Davie, she s my gran- 
 daughter, an the father of a grand-daughter must be 
 the son o the grandfather." 
 
 " Well, father, " I said, " I have made progress 
 indeed. First you were my acquaintance, and then 
 my elder, and then my friend David, and now my 
 father. What will come next ? " 
 
 " Oh, brither will come next. When I ve made the 
 journey, an ye ve made the journey, an we will be 
 standin thegither haudin the ban s o the great 
 Elder Brither in the Kingdom. Won t that be graun, 
 John?" 
 
 David only lived four weeks more. He was up and 
 down from his house to mine, but there came a day 
 when he did not come, but sent word that he wished 
 to see me. As soon as he saw me, he began : 
 
 " I have been thinkin aboot yon Garvey man, your 
 thief man. I telt ye that ye d no ca to be a philan 
 thropist. He went to the bad, I doot. I was right, as 
 usual." 
 
 I was astonished a little at this, for I had long 
 since told him about Garvey s wonderful transforma 
 tion. But I said no word in reply to make him know 
 that he had forgotten, if indeed he had. 
 
 " No," I replied. " He came out of jail twenty-five 
 years ago. He became a most worthy citizen. The 
 Governor of the State gave him full restoration to
 
 364 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 citizenship twelve years ago. He is the mayor of 
 Greenton now." 
 
 David was deeply interested. " This is a graun 
 country, John. What opportunities it gives men ! 
 Think what it did for me, the poor Scotch lad. But 
 the grace o God is greater than the country. That 
 Garvey man is a trophy o the grace o God." 
 
 The bridal pair returned next day, going to David s 
 for the first stopping place, as that was his wish. 
 Every day of the week that followed, I visited him. 
 
 Sitting in a chair in his library, he received me. 
 There was a day presently when he was very feeble, 
 and after that he never rose. He said about the 
 middle of that week, one morning, " John, I m startin 
 on the journey, I doot. I shall never return. I 
 am goin to find the city which hath foundations. D 
 ye ken ? There s a river flows through the midst o 
 it. It will be sae beautiful I shallna be wantin to 
 return. D ye ken ? " 
 
 " Are you ready to make the journey, father ? " I 
 asked him. 
 
 " Aye, John a ready. There ll be a river there : 
 a beautiful river. D ye ken ? " 
 
 "Yes," I said. "In the midst of the city it 
 flows." 
 
 " There s no high bluff above it, John, like yon 
 Greenton stream. D ye mind the Greenton stream, 
 John ? That was a great fish : that first one. I 
 never took one like that before. There ll be none 
 like that i the city, I doot." I saw his mind was 
 wandering. Presently he said : 
 
 " I was a wrang, John. Tisna belief in the cate 
 chism that releegion is. Releegion is the soul o man
 
 HENDERSON S LAST DAYS 365 
 
 seekin the life o God. I ve been thinkin o that for 
 twenty-eight years. Ye were right, John ; who telt ye 
 that?" 
 
 I answered, " No one, father, unless it was God. 
 That came to me while I talked with you that day in 
 the train." 
 
 " Man, John, ye re right again. God gave ye that. 
 He gave ye that for me. I was thinkin believin was 
 suffeecient, an livin as I pleased. Ye broke me o 
 that. For thirty years, a most, I have been seekin 
 the life o God an I ve found it. I m comin up wi 
 it. See where it is the life o God Jack pastor 
 good, faithful friend I ve found it. The life o God 
 is mine. Ye showed me the way, an* it s mine for 
 ever an forever." 
 
 "Father," I began, about to thank him for his 
 lovely tribute to my poor service to him ; 
 " father - " but there I stopped. I looked at him 
 with my heart in my eyes, and my sentence was never 
 finished. For he was not there. He had started on 
 his journey.
 
 XXXII 
 
 HENDERSON S WILL 
 
 THE body of David Henderson was laid to rest 
 in Duqueboro Glen Cemetery. A granite 
 block marks the spot. The County Bar 
 Association paid a great tribute to his ability, integ 
 rity, and civic honor. About the hardest moment of 
 my professional life was when the last words of the 
 solemn rite were spoken at the side of the open grave. 
 Alice and I spent the evening with Mrs. Henderson 
 and her family. The house seemed singularly lonely, 
 though there were nine of us together. "Losh, man ! " 
 and " Hoot, hoot ! " had been heard in that house for 
 the last time. Judge Elgin, the Clerk of the Orphans 
 Court, called during the evening, and said, " Mr. Hen 
 derson left a paper in my possession, to be read on the 
 day after his funeral, to the very persons who happen 
 to be present here now. I will fulfill the request 
 tomorrow whenever you may say." Mrs. Henderson 
 appointed ten o clock next morning. "When that hour 
 arrived, we all were assembled. Judge Elgin read as 
 follows : 
 
 " In the name of God : Amen. Many men think 
 they must make a will before they die. Having had 
 their wives wills all their lives, they think they will 
 have their own when they are dead. A dead man s 
 will is of no account to him after he s dead, I doubt. 
 Therefore, being of sound mind and disposing memory 
 before my death, I have expressed my mind in accord- 
 
 366
 
 HENDERSON S WILL 36 T 
 
 ance with my memory, also before my death. But I 
 have not made known to any person what my mind 
 is. That will be discovered when the person herein 
 appointed has opened the safe in my private room in 
 my own house. William Elgin, the Clerk of the 
 Orphans Court of Algonquin County, is that person. 
 It is my will while living that he shall open my safe 
 when I am dead. He will do it in the presence of my 
 family and my pastor and his wife. 
 
 " It is furthermore my will while alive, that when I 
 am dead, my beloved wife shall take the contents of 
 the safe, and give them to the persons to whom they 
 are addressed. It is also my wish that the persons 
 receiving the contents of my safe shall take them 
 away and open them in private, and that no one of 
 these persons shall make known to the other, nor to 
 any one on earth, what are the contents of these pack 
 ages, for the period of five years after they have been 
 received. By that time I will be forgotten, and no 
 one will care what I did with my property, I doubt. 
 For, in my opinion, the whole matter is nobody s busi 
 ness but my own. This is my last will and testa 
 ment, a will that will cause no trouble to anybody, 
 and dispense with all legal services, and avoids the 
 exasperation which attends the ordinary will. If any 
 one asks of what property David Henderson died 
 possessed, be sure to answer, of not a hap orth. He 
 was supposed to have some when he lived ; but when 
 he died, not a penny that was his could be found. 
 This is my last will and testament. 
 
 " DAVID HENDERSON." 
 
 We stood and looked at each other in silence for a 
 moment or two, Then the Judge said, " That is very
 
 368 THE MAID OF HOXOR 
 
 characteristic of David," and Mrs. Henderson smiled 
 as she answered, " Yes, Mr. Henderson never did any 
 thing as anyone else would." 
 
 Then the Judge went to the private office and 
 opened the safe. He had evidently been prepared for 
 this, for he knew the combination of the lock. When 
 the door was thrown back, nothing was to be seen but 
 six parcels tied with red law tape. There was not a 
 book or paper of any sort at all. The Judge said, 
 " Mrs. Henderson, by the terms of the will, you must 
 take the packages from the safe." She did so. They 
 were addressed to William Elgin, Mrs. Mary Hender 
 son, Mrs. Julia Ardman, David Henderson, Jr., David 
 Henderson Ardman, and Rev. John Haynes, D. D. 
 One by one, Mrs. Henderson handed them to us. 
 When the Judge received his, he said, " I have no 
 knowledge of the contents of any of the packages. I 
 have performed the duties devolved upon me by my 
 friend s singular paper. It undoubtedly relates to 
 what was his property. I surmise, however, that it 
 will be found he has left no property of any sort in his 
 own name." With that, Judge Elgin made his adieus 
 and departed. 
 
 The situation was a very strange one. We stood 
 there holding what no doubt represented David Hen 
 derson s great property. But no one of us knew how 
 much it was, or what each had received. David, Jr., 
 was the first to speak. He said, " We can do nothing 
 but respect my father s request. But I think we 
 should make ourselves sure that we will respect it. 
 Let us all agree each with each, and each with all, that 
 we will respect it. Shall we shake hands on that ? " 
 To that we all agreed, and made solemn covenant with 
 clasped hands to tell to no one, nor to each other, for
 
 HENDERSON S WILL 369 
 
 five years, what the various packages contained. And 
 then we separated. The Duqueboro Clarion said next 
 day, with the usual spectacular display : 
 
 THE DEAD MILLIONAIRE, DAVID HENDERSON, 
 
 LEAVES NOTHING TO CHARITY, AND 
 NOTHING TO THE BOARDS OF His CHURCH. 
 
 The article that followed was sensational, caustic, 
 and untrue. 
 
 #***** 
 
 More than five years have passed since that promise 
 was made in David Henderson s private office. My 
 lips are therefore unsealed. Exactly five years from 
 the time of that promise Mrs. Henderson received the 
 following note: 
 
 New York, 
 " Mrs. Mary Henderson, 
 
 " Duqueboro, Pa. 
 " DEAR MADAM : 
 
 " As instructed by your late husband, David 
 Henderson, I write to-day to say that prior to his 
 death he put into my hands, as Treasurer of the Board 
 of Home Missions, five hundred thousand dollars, to be 
 divided in ways he specified, among the eight Boards 
 of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of 
 America. This is to inform you that the division was 
 made as directed, and receipts from the several 
 Treasurers are hereby sent you. By Mr. Henderson s 
 request, no one knew from whom this money was 
 received but me. The sums were not all paid at one 
 time, but payment was scattered along over thirty 
 months, as specified by Mr. Henderson. 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 " /Treasurer." 
 
 This was the first that anyone had ever known of
 
 3TO THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 the man s great gift to the Church he loved. The 
 gifts to his own family are their own matter, and have 
 never been made public. When my own parcel was 
 opened, there Avas disclosed to view the old Bible which 
 was the foundation-stone of my acquaintance with 
 this singular man. With it was a note that read as 
 follows : 
 
 " DEAR JOHN : 
 
 " I want you to have the old Book. It made us 
 acquainted, and its mission is not yet ended. I want 
 you to open it every day at about two o clock. That 
 is the hour when we first met. Keep it locked in a 
 safe at all other times. The places at which to open 
 it are the following " 
 
 Then followed a list of two hundred and fifty 
 passages. The letter went on : 
 
 " This old Book, by my instructions to you, was 
 strength for your work in the past. Out of it you 
 learned that religion is the soul of man seeking the 
 life of God, a thing you might never have said but for 
 my influence on you. Now, if you will diligently 
 follow my directions about the marked places in the 
 Book, you will, I doubt, add some comfort to your old 
 age. 
 
 "I have never paid you the twenty-five hundred 
 dollars I borrowed of you, but as your daughter is 
 married to my grandson, perhaps that will make no 
 great difference. 
 
 "My last request to you is that you resign the 
 pastorate of Kir Jear Church. You are fifty-four 
 past ; sixty is not far away. The young people are 
 growing restless, even now, for a younger man. You 
 are master yet. Stay so. The only way to stay so is 
 to get out, I doubt. Solomon said many things about
 
 HENDERSON S WILL 371 
 
 a time. A time to do this, and a time to do that. 
 He ought to have said also, There is a time for a 
 preacher to quit. Jack, your time has come. Kesign 
 before nine months pass. Go to Grandview ; buy the 
 old place and the one each side ; buy all the lots 
 from Morningside Terrace clear to the street parallel 
 with the Terrace. Build my girl, the girl I wooed and 
 won for ye, a new, cozy home. Go there, live and 
 be happy. This is for you my last will and testament. 
 
 "DAVID HENDERSON." 
 
 " P. S. Do not unwrap the Bible until the day 
 after you read this, at two o clock, then every day 
 thereafter. 
 
 "D. H." 
 
 Alice and I laughed over that letter, and she cried 
 a little. The plan was beautiful, but impracticable. 
 To save, in Duqueboro, while pastor of Kir Jear 
 Church, at four thousand dollars salary, enough money 
 to live on without work, was impossible, and to talk 
 about buying and building was absurd. But the 
 dream was beautiful. 
 
 Next day at two o clock, we unwrapped the Book. 
 It was an old worn, Bible, and seemed much thicker as 
 I held it in my hand than it had ever seemed before. 
 To turn to the passage for the first day was the work 
 of a moment. There lay a crisp one thousand dollar 
 bank-note. A slip was pinned to it in David s hand. 
 " Don t be frightened. This is part of your twenty- 
 five hundred, I doubt." 
 
 Alice looked at me in blank amazement. " Did ever 
 such a queer man as that live in this world before ? " 
 she said. 
 
 Next day we had the same experience. Henderson s
 
 372 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 note read this time, " This is more of your twenty- 
 five hundred, I doubt." 
 
 Again we faced each other, a very astonished pair. 
 The third day revealed the third one thousand dollar 
 bill, but the note pinned to it read: 
 
 " You have had your interest regularly for twenty- 
 eight years. This pays the rest of your twenty-five 
 hundred. The extra five hundred are profits on the 
 investment made for you, and held in trust by me. 
 
 " D. H." 
 
 And now we both comprehended the scheme of the 
 strange Scotchman. For two hundred and fifty days, 
 \ve found each day a one thousand dollar note. We 
 had promised not to tell anyone for five years. 
 There was no will, no executor, no legacy tax, no 
 fees. There was the money, locked every night in 
 our safe, which was bought before a week went by. 
 There were no more written notes after the third one 
 until the last. Then we found this : 
 
 " DEAE JACK : 
 
 " This is not a gift, nor charity. Mr. Lorraine 
 and I bought a large tract of land near Galveston, or 
 in that region. It proved to be very productive oil land. 
 The land bought with your twenty-five hundred dollars 
 was rich in oil. I sold it for the money which you 
 have now received. Not a penny is dishonest. Your 
 money earned it all. But you could never have done 
 it, I doubt. You don t know enough. Now resign. 
 Go to Grandview, and do as I told you. 
 
 " DAVID HENDERSON." 
 
 Alice threw her arms around my neck, and said,
 
 HENDERSON S WILL 373 
 
 " Will you, Jack ? Oh, will you ? " And I answered, 
 " Yes, Alice, I will." 
 
 7T 
 
 That was ten years ago. As I write, Alice sits 
 beyond the table, sewing. It happens that this is 
 Christmas night. We are in our library, which opens 
 on the veranda overlooking the river and mountains, 
 and the moon is almost full. We have had a lovely 
 Christmas day. Euth and David Ardman, with their 
 two boys, have been with us. The boys are in bed, 
 and Ruth is singing to David, in the parlor. They 
 are almost as devoted lovers as their parents. I am 
 conscious that " age with his stealing steps will claw 
 me in his clutch " ere many years. My hair is about as 
 white as the snow outside. But when I look across the 
 table at Alice, I see in her hair the same color as of 
 the blossom of the smoke-tree by my father s door. 
 The same unruffled look is on her face that 
 was there thirty-five years ago. She is older, but 
 strangers often call her and Ruth sisters ; and 
 people still look at her as she passes on Fifth Avenue, 
 as I did once. 
 
 " Alice ! " She raises her head, and our eyes meet. 
 There is no flash as of cold steel at the bottom of 
 those eyes now. 
 
 " What, Jack ? " she asks. 
 
 "Do you remember that day before Schaus s 
 window, almost forty years ago ? " 
 
 " Yes, Jack, I remember. But why, dear ? " 
 
 " You almost broke my heart that day, Alice. For 
 I loved you madly ; and though I had no reason, hope 
 had been buoyant until then, that we might meet 
 some day, somewhere, and then
 
 374 THE MAID OF HONOR 
 
 " Then what, Jack ? " 
 
 " Then perhaps I might be able to make you love 
 me a little. But the hope died there on Fifth 
 Avenue." 
 
 " It need not have died, my boy, for I loved you 
 then as much as you loved me." 
 
 " You have told me that before. But was it true ?" 
 
 " Yes, Jack, true. It began at old St. David s, and 
 it will never end." 
 
 THE END
 
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