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 Copyright, 1877, 
 
 BY 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS REVERENTLY DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY HONORED FATHER. 
 
 2036311
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 He best deserves a knightly crest 
 Who slays the evils that infest 
 His soul within. If victor here. 
 He soon will find a wider sphere. 
 The world is cold to him who pleads; 
 The world bows low to knightly deeds. 
 
 Cjrn'wall-on-the-Hulson, N. Y.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. FAGB 
 
 I. Bad Training for a Knight i 
 
 II. Both Apologize lo 
 
 III. Chained TO AN Iceberg i8 
 
 IV, Immature 28 
 
 V. Passion's Clamor 38 
 
 VI. " Gloomy Grandeur " 50 
 
 VII. Birds of Prey 57 
 
 VIII. Their Victim 68 
 
 IX. Pat and the Press 76 
 
 X. Returning Consciousness 83 
 
 XI. Haldane IS Arrested 91 
 
 XII. A Memorable Meeting 10 1 
 
 XIII. Our Knight in Jail 109 
 
 XIV. Mr. Arnot's System Works Badly 115 
 
 XV. Haldane's Resolve 123 
 
 XVI. The Impulses of Wounded Pride 130 
 
 XVII. At Odds with the World 137 
 
 XVIII. The World's Verdict — Our Knight a Crim- 
 inal 145 
 
 XIX. The World's Best Offer — A Prison 151 
 
 XX. Maiden and Wood-Sawyer 158 
 
 XXI. Magnanimous Mr. Shrumpf 168 
 
 XXII. A Man Who Hated Himself 174 
 
 XXIII. Mr. Growther Becomes Gigantic 184 
 
 XXIV. How Public Opinion IS Often Made 193 
 
 XXV. A Paper Poniard 201 
 
 XXVI. A Sorry Knight 207 
 
 vii
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGB 
 
 XXVII. God SexNt His Angel 213 
 
 XXVIII. Facing THE Consequences 219 
 
 XXIX. How Evil Isolates 227 
 
 XXX. Ideal Knighthood 234 
 
 XXXI. The Low Starting-Point 243 
 
 XXXII. A Sacred Refrigerator 252 
 
 XXXIII. A Doubtful Battle in Prospect 260 
 
 XXXIV. A Foot-hold 269 
 
 XXXV. That Sermon was a Bomb-shell 274 
 
 XXXVI. Mr. Growther Feeds an Ancient Grudge . 281 
 
 XXXVII. Hoping for a Miracle 287 
 
 XXXVIII. The Miracle Takes Place 294 
 
 XXXIX. Votaries of the World 301 
 
 XL. Human Nature 312 
 
 XLL Mrs. Arnot's Creed 322 
 
 XLII. The Lever that Moves the World . . . 332 
 
 XLIII. Mr. Growther " Stumped " 340 
 
 XLIV. Growth 35^ 
 
 XLV. Laura Romeyn 3^^ 
 
 XLVI. Misjudged 369 
 
 XLVII. Laura Chooses her Knight 377 
 
 XLVIII. Mrs. Arnot's Knight 35-^9 
 
 XLIX. a Knightly Deed 400 
 
 L. " O Dreaded Death ! " • • . . 411 
 
 LI. " O Priceless Life ! " 420 
 
 LII. A Man versus a Connoisseur 435 
 
 LIIL Exit of Laura's First Knight 444 
 
 LIV. Another Knight Appears 45 2
 
 A Knight 
 of the Nineteenth Century. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BAD TRAINING FOR A KNIGHT. 
 
 Egbert Haldane had an enemy who loved him very 
 dearly, and he sincerely returned her affection, as he 
 was in duty bound, since she was his mother. If, inspired 
 by hate and malice, Mrs. Haldane had brooded over but 
 one question at the cradle of her child, How can^I most 
 surely destroy this boy ? she could scarcely have set 
 about the task more skillfully and successfully. 
 
 But so far from having any such malign and unnatural 
 intention, Mrs. Haldane idolized her son. To make the 
 paradox more striking, she was actually seeking to give 
 him a Christian training and character. As he leaned 
 against her knee Bible tales w-ere told him, not merely 
 for the sake of the marvelous interest which they ever 
 have for children, but in the hope, also, that the moral 
 they carry with them might remain as germinating seed. 
 At an early age the mother had commenced taking him 
 to church, and often gave him an admonitory nudge as 
 his restless eyes wandered from the venerable face in the 
 pulpit. In brief, the apparent influences of his early life 
 were similar to those existing in multitudes of Christian 
 homes. On general principles, it might be hoped that 
 the boy's future would be all that his friends could de-
 
 2 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 sire ; nor did he himself in early youth promise so badly 
 to superficial observers ; and the son of the wealthy Mrs. 
 Haldane was, on the part of the world, more the object 
 of envy than of censure. But a close observer, who 
 judged of characteristic tendencies and their results by 
 the light of experience, might justly fear that the mother 
 had unwittingly done her child irreparable wrong. 
 
 She had made him a tyrant and a relentless taskmaster 
 even in his infancy. As his baby-will developed he 
 found it supreme. His nurse was obliged to be a slave 
 who must patiently humor every whim. He was petted 
 and coaxed out of his frequent fits of passion, and be- 
 guiled from his obstinate and sulky moods by bribes. 
 He was the eldest child and only son, and his httle sis- 
 ters were taught to yield to him, right or wrong, he lord- 
 ing it over them with the capricious lawlessness of an 
 Eastern despot. Chivalric deference to woman, and a 
 disposition to protect and honor her, is a necessary ele- 
 ment of a manly character in our Western civilization ; 
 but young Haldane was as truly an Oriental as if he had 
 been permitted to bluster around a Turkish harem ; and 
 those whom he should have learned to wait upon with 
 delicacy and tact became subservient to his varying 
 moods, developing that essential brutality which mars 
 the nature of every man who looks upon woman as an in- 
 ferior and a servant. He loved his mother, but he did 
 not reverence and honor her. The thought ever upper- 
 most in his mind was, " What ought she to do for me ? " 
 not, "What ought I to do for her?" and any effort to 
 curb or guide on her part was met and thwarted by pas- 
 sionate or obstinate opposition from him. He loved his 
 sisters after a fashion, because they were his sisters ; but 
 so far from learning to think of them as those whom it 
 would be his natural task to cherish and protect, they 
 were, in his estimation, "nothing but girls," and of no 
 account whatever where his interests were concerned.
 
 BAD TRAINING FOR A KNIGHT. 3 
 
 In the most receptive period of life the poison of selfish- 
 ness and self-love was steadily instilled into his nature. 
 Before he had left the nursery he had formed the habit 
 of disregarding the wills and wishes of others, even when 
 his childish conscience told him that he was decidedly in 
 the wrong. When he snatched his sisters' playthings 
 they cried in vain, and found no redress. The mother 
 made peace by smoothing over matters, and promising 
 the little girls something else. 
 
 Of course, the boy sought to carry into his school life 
 the same tendencies and habits which he had learned at 
 home, and he ever found a faithful ally in his blind, fond 
 mother. She took his side against his teachers ; she 
 could not beheve in his oppressions of his younger play- 
 mates ; she was absurdly indignant and resentful when 
 some sturdy boy stood up for his own rights, or cham- 
 pioned another's, and sent the incipient bully back to 
 her, crying, and with a bloody nose. When the pam- 
 pered youth was a little indisposed, or imagined himself 
 so, he was coddled at home, and had bonbons and fairy 
 tales in the place of lessons. 
 
 Judicious friends shook their heads ominously, and 
 some even ventured to counsel the mother to a wiser 
 course ; but she ever resented such advice. The son 
 was the image of his lost father, and her one impulse was 
 to lavish upon him every thing that his heart craved. 
 
 As if all this were not enough, she placed in the boy's 
 way another snare, which seldom fails of proving fatal. 
 He had only to ask for money to obtain it, no knowledge 
 of its value being imparted to him. Even when he took 
 it from his mother's drawer without asking, her chidings 
 were feeble and irresolute. He would silence and half 
 satisfy her by saying : 
 
 " You can take any thing of mine that you want. It's 
 all in the family ; what difference does it make? " 
 
 Thus every avenue of temptation in the city which
 
 4 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 could be entered by money was open to him, and he 
 was not slow in choosing those naturally attractive to a 
 boy. 
 
 But while his mother was blind to the evil traits and 
 tendencies which she was fostering with such ominous 
 success, there were certain overt acts naturally growing 
 out of her indulgences which would shock her inex- 
 pressibly, and evoke even from her the strongest expres- 
 sions of indignation and rebuke. She was pre-eminently 
 respectable, and fond of respect. She was a member 
 " in good and regular standing " not only of her church, 
 but also of the best society in the small inland city where 
 she resided, and few greater misfortunes in her estima- 
 tion could occur than to lose this status. She never hesi- 
 tated to humor any of her son's whims and wishes which 
 did not threaten their respectability, but the quick-witted 
 boy was not long in discovering that she would not 
 tolerate any of those vices and associations which society 
 condemns. 
 
 There could scarcely have been any other result save 
 that which followed. She had never taught him self-re- 
 straint ; his own inclinations furnished the laws of his 
 action, and the wish to curb his desires because they 
 were wrong scarcely ever crossed his mind. To avoid 
 trouble with his mother, therefore, he began slyly and 
 secretly to taste the forbidden fruits which her lavish 
 supplies of money always kept within his reach. In this 
 manner that most hopeless and vitiating of elements, de- 
 ceitfulness, entered into his character. He denied to his 
 mother, and sought to conceal from her, the truth that 
 while still in his teens he was learning the gambler's in- 
 fatuation and forming the inebriate's appetite. He tried 
 to prevent her from knowing that many of his most inti- 
 mate associates were such as he would not introduce to 
 her or to his sisters. 
 
 He had received, however, a few counter-balancingf
 
 BAD TRAINING FOB A KNIGHT. 5 
 
 advantages in his early life. With all her weaknesses, 
 his mother was a lady, and order, refinement, and ele- 
 gance characterized his home. Though not a gentleman 
 at heart, on approaching manhood he habitually main- 
 tained the outward bearing that society demands. The 
 report that he was a little fast was more than neutrahzed 
 by the fact of his wealth. Indeed, society concluded 
 that it had much more occasion to smile than to frown 
 upon him, and his increasing fondness for society and its 
 approval in some degree curbed his tendencies to dissi- 
 pation. 
 
 It might also prove to his advantage that so much 
 Christian and ethical truth had been lodged in his mem- 
 ory during early years. His mother had really taken 
 pains to acquaint him with the Divine Man who " pleased 
 not Himself," even while she was practically teaching him 
 to reverse this trait in his own character. Thus, while 
 the youth's heart was sadly erratic, his head was toler- 
 ably orthodox, and he knew theoretically the chief princi- 
 ples of right action. Though his conscience had never 
 been truly awakened, it often told him that his action 
 was unmanly, to say the least ; and that was as far as 
 any self-censure could reach at this time. But it might 
 prove a fortunate thing that although thorns and thistles 
 had been planted chiefly, some good seed had been scat- 
 tered also, and that he had received some idea of a life 
 the reverse of that which he was leading. 
 
 But thus far it might be said with almost literal truth, 
 that young Haldane's acquaintance with Christian ethics 
 had had no more practical effect upon his habitual action 
 and thought than his knowledge of algebra. When his 
 mother permitted him to snatch his sisters' playthings and 
 keep them, when she took him from the school where he 
 had received well-merited punishment, when she en- 
 slaved herself and her household to him instead of teach- 
 ing considerate and loyal devotion to her, she nullified
 
 6 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 all the Christian instruction that she or any one else had 
 given. 
 
 The boy had one very marked trait, which might 
 promise well for the future, or otherwise, according to 
 circumstances, and that was a certain willful persistence, 
 which often degenerated into downright obstinacy. Fre- 
 quently, when his mother thought that she had coaxed 
 or wheedled him into giving up something of which she 
 did not approve, he would quietly approach his object in 
 some other way, and gain his point, or sulk till he did. 
 When he set his heart upon any thing he was not as " un- 
 stable as water." While but an indifferent and super- 
 ficial student, who had habitually escaped lessons and 
 skipped difficulties, he occasionally became nettled by a 
 perplexing problem or task, and would work at it with a 
 sort of vindictive, unrelenting earnestness, as if he were 
 subduing an enemy. Having put his foot on the obstacle, 
 and mastered the difficulty that piqued him, he would 
 cast the book aside, indifferent to the study or science of 
 which it formed but a small fraction. 
 
 After all, perhaps the best that could be said of him 
 was that he possessed fair abilities, and was still subject 
 to the good and generous impulses of youth. His traits 
 and tendencies were, in the main, all wrong ; but he had 
 not as yet become confirmed and hardened in them. 
 Contact with the world, which sooner or later tells a man 
 the truth about himself, however unwelcome, might dissi- 
 pate the illusion, gained from his mother's idolatry, that 
 in some indefinite way he was remarkable in himself, and 
 that he was destined to great things from a vague and 
 innate superiority, which it had never occurred to him to 
 analyze. 
 
 But as the young man approached his majority hi.s 
 growing habits of dissipation became so pronounced that 
 even his willingly bhnd mother was compelled to recog- 
 nize them. Rumor of his fast and foolish behavior took
 
 BAD TRAINING FOR A KNIGHT. 7 
 
 such definite shape as to penetrate the widow's aristo- 
 cratic retirement, and to pass the barriers created by the 
 reserve which she ever maintained in regard to personal 
 and family matters. More than once her son came home 
 in a condition so nearly resembling intoxication that she 
 was compelled to recognize the cause, and she was greatly 
 shocked and alarmed. Again and again she said to 
 herself : 
 
 "I cannot understand how a boy brought up in the 
 careful Christian manner that he has been can show such 
 unnatural depravity. It is a dark, mysterious provi- 
 dence, to which I feel I cannot submit." 
 
 Though young Haldane was aware of his mother's in- 
 tolerance of disreputable vices and follies, he was not 
 prepared for her strong and even bitter condemnation of 
 his action. Having never been taught to endure from 
 her nor from any one the language of rebuke, he retorted 
 as a son never should do in any circumstances, and 
 stormy scenes followed. 
 
 Thus the mother was at last rudely awakened to the 
 fact that her son w^as not a model youth, and that some- 
 thing must be done speedily, or else he might go to de- 
 struction, and in the meantime disgrace both himself and 
 her— an event almost equally to be dreaded. 
 
 In her distress and perplexity she summoned her pap- 
 tor, and took counsel with him. At her request the vei 
 erable man readily agreed to "talk to" the way wan 
 subject, and thought that his folly and its consequences 
 could be placed before the young man in such a strong 
 and logical statement that it would convince him at once 
 that he must " repent and walk in the ways of righteous- 
 ness." If Haldane's errors had been those of doctrine, 
 Dr. Marks would have been an admirable guide ; but 
 the trouble was that while the good doctor was familiar 
 with all the readings of obscure Greek and Hebrew texts, 
 and all the shades of opinions resulting, he was unac-
 
 8 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 quainted with even the alphabet of human nature. In 
 approaching " a sinner," he had one formal and unvary- 
 ing method, and he chose his course not from the bearing 
 of the subject himself, but from certain general theolog- 
 ical truths which he believed applied to the " unrenewed 
 heart of man as a fallen race." He rather prided him- 
 self upon calling a sinner a sinner, and all things else by 
 their right names ; and thus it is evident that he often 
 had but httle of the PauUne guile, which enabled the 
 great apostle to entangle the wayward feet of Jew, Greek 
 and Roman, bond and free, in heavenly snares. 
 
 The youth whom he was to convince and convert by a 
 single broadside of truth, as it were, moved i-n such an 
 eccentric orbit, that the doctor could never bring his 
 heavy artillery to bear upon him. Neither coaxing nor 
 scolding on the part of the mother could bring about the 
 formal interview. At last, however, it was secured by 
 an accident, and his mother felt thereafter, with a cer- 
 tain sense of consolation, that "all had been done that 
 could be done." 
 
 Entering the parlor unexpectedly one afternoon, Hal- 
 dane stumbled directly upon Dr. Marks, who opened fire 
 at once, by saying : 
 
 '« My young friend, this is quite providential, as I have 
 long been wishing for an interview. Please be seated, 
 for I have certain things to say which relate to your spir- 
 itual and temporal well-being, although the latter is a 
 very secondary matter." 
 
 Haldane was too well bred to break rudely and 
 abruptly away, and yet it must be admitted that he 
 complied with very much the feeling and grace with 
 which he would take a dentist's chair. 
 
 " My young friend, if you ever wish to be a saint 
 you must first have a profound conviction that you are 
 a sinner. I hope that you realize that you are a sin- 
 ner/'
 
 BAB TRAINING FOB A KNIGHT. 9 
 
 "I am quite content to be a gentleman," was the 
 brusque reply. 
 
 •• But as long as you remain an impenitent sinner you 
 can never be even a true gentleman," responded the 
 clergyman somewhat warmly. 
 
 Haldane had caught a shocked and warning look from 
 his mother, and so did not reply. He saw that he was 
 "in for it," as he would express himself, and surmised 
 that the less he said the sooner the ordeal would be over. 
 He therefore took refuge in a silence that was both sullen 
 and resentful. He was too young and uncurbed to 
 maintain a cold and impassive face, and his dark eyes 
 occasionally shot vindictive gleams at both his mother 
 and her ally, who had so unexpectedly caged him against 
 his will. Fortunately the doctor was content, after he 
 had got under weigh, to talk at, instead of to, his hstener, 
 and thus was saved the mortification of asking questions 
 of one who would not have answered. 
 
 After the last sonorous period had been rounded, the 
 youth arose, bowed stiffly, and withdrew, but with a 
 heart overflowing with a malicious desire to retaliate. At 
 the angle of the house stood the clergyman's steady - 
 going mare, and his low, old-fashioned buggy. It was 
 but the work of a moment to slip part of the shuck of a 
 horse-chestnut, with its sharp spines, under the collar, 
 so that when the traces drew upon it the spines would be 
 driven into the poor beast's neck. Then, going down to 
 the main street of the town, through which he knew the 
 doctor must pass on his way home, he took his post of 
 observation.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BOTH APOLOGIZE. 
 
 Haldane's hopes were realized beyond his anticipa- 
 tions, for the doctor's old mare — at first surprised and 
 restless from the wounds made by the sharp spines — 
 speedily became indignant and fractious, and at last, 
 half frantic with pain, started on a gallop down the 
 street, setting all the town agog with excitement and 
 alarm. 
 
 With grim satisfaction Haldane saw the doctor's im- 
 maculate silk hat fly into the mud, his wig, blown com- 
 ically awry, fall over his eyes, and his spectacles joggle 
 down until they sat astride the tip of a rather prominent 
 nose. 
 
 Having had his revenge he at once relented, and rush- 
 ing out in advance of some others who were coming to 
 the rescue, he caught the poor beast, and stopped her so 
 suddenly that the doctor was nearly precipitated over the 
 dash-board. Then, pretending to examine the harness 
 to see that nothing was broken, he quietly removed the 
 cause of irritation, and the naturally sedate beast at once 
 became far more composed than her master, for, as a 
 bystander remarked, the venerable doctor was "dread- 
 fully shuck up." It was quite in keeping with Haldane's 
 disingenuous nature to accept the old gentleman's pro- 
 fuse thanks for the rescue. The impulse to carry his 
 mischief still further was at once acted upon, and he of- 
 fered to see the doctor safely home. 
 
 His services were eagerly accepted, for the poor man 
 was much too unnerved to take the reins again, though, 
 10
 
 BOTH APOLOGIZE. 11 
 
 had he known it, the mare would now have gone to the 
 parsonage quietly, and of her own accord. 
 
 The doctor was gradually righted up and composed. 
 His wig, which had covered his left eye, was arranged 
 decorously in its proper place, and the gold-rimmed 
 spectacles pressed back so that the good man could 
 beam mildly and gratefully upon his supposed preserver. 
 The clerical hat, however, had lost its character beyond 
 recovery, and though its owner was obliged to wear it 
 home, it must be confessed that it did not at all comport 
 with the doctor's dignity and calHng. 
 
 Young Haldane took the reins with a great show of 
 solicitude and vigilance, appearing to dread another dis- 
 play of viciousness from the mare, that was now most 
 sheep-like in her docility; and thus, with his confiding 
 victim, he jogged along through the crowded street, the 
 object of general approval and outspoken commenda- 
 tion. 
 
 " My dear young friend," began the doctor fervently, 
 "I feel that you have already repaid me amply for my 
 labors in your behalf." 
 
 "Thank you," said Haldane demurely; "I think we 
 are getting even." 
 
 "This has been a very mysterious affair," continued 
 the doctor musingly; " surely ' a horse is a vain thing 
 for safety.' One is almost tempted to believe that de- 
 moniacal possession is not wholly a thing of the past. In- 
 deed, I could not think of any thing else while Dolly was 
 acting so viciously and unaccountably." 
 
 "I agree with you," responded Haldane gravely : 
 " she certainly did come down the street like the devil." 
 
 The doctor was a little shocked at this putting of his 
 thoughts into plain English, for it sounded somewhat 
 profanely. But he was in no mood to find fault with his 
 companion, and they got on very well together to the 
 end of their brief journey. The young scapegrace was
 
 12 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURA. 
 
 glad, indeed, that it was brief, for his self-control was 
 fast leaving him, and having bowed a rather abrupt fare- 
 well to the doctor, he was not long in reaching one of his 
 haunts, from which during the evening, and quite late 
 into the night, came repeated peals of laughter, tha*^ 
 grew more boisterous and discordant as that synonym of 
 mental and moral anarchy, the " spirit of wine," gained 
 ■.he mastery. 
 
 The tidings of her son's exploit in rescuing the doctor 
 vere not long in reaching Mrs. Haldane, and she felt 
 .hat the good seed sown that day had borne immediate 
 fruit. She longed to fold him in her arms and commend 
 his courage, while she poured out thanksgiving that he 
 himself had escaped uninjured, which immunity, she be- 
 Eeved, must have resulted from the goodness and piety 
 ©f the deed. But when he at last appeared with step so 
 unsteady and utterance so thick that even she could not 
 mistake the cause, she was bewildered and bitterly dis- 
 appointed by the apparent cOntradictoriness of his action; 
 and when he, too far gone for dissimulation, described 
 and acted out in pantomime the doctor's plight and ap- 
 pearance, she became half hysterical from her desire to 
 laugh, to cry, and to give vent to her kindling indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 This anger was raised almost to the point of white heat 
 on the morrow. The cause of the old mare's behavior, 
 and the interview which had led to the practical joke, 
 soon became an open secret, and while it convulsed the 
 town with laughter, it also gave the impression that 
 young Haldane was in a " bad way." 
 
 It was not long before Mrs. Haldane received a note 
 from an indignant fellow church-member, in which, with 
 some disagreeable comment, her son's conduct was 
 plainly stated. She was also informed that the doctor 
 had become aware of the rude jest of which he had been 
 tiae subject. Mrs. Haldane was almost furious ; but her
 
 BOTH APOLOGIZE. 13 
 
 son grew sullen and obstinate as the storm which he had. 
 raised increased. The only thing he would say as aa^ 
 apology or excuse amounted to this : 
 
 "What else could he expect from one whom he so 
 emphatically asserted was a sinner? " 
 
 The mother wrote at once to the doctor, and was pro- 
 fuse in her apologies and regrets, but was obliged to ad^ 
 mit to him that her son was beyond her control. 
 
 When the doctor first learned the truth his equanimity 
 was almost as greatly disturbed as it had been on the 
 previous day, and his first emotions were obviously those 
 of wrath. But a little thought brought him to a better 
 mood. 
 
 He was naturally deficient in tact, and his long habit 
 of dwelling upon abstract and systematic truth had dimin- 
 ished his power of observantly and intuitively gauging 
 the character of the one with whom he was dealing. He 
 therefore often failed wofully in adaptation, and his ser- 
 mons occasionally went off into rarefied realms of moral 
 space, where nothing human existed. But his heart was 
 true and warm, and his Master's cause of far more con- 
 sequence to him than his own dignity. 
 
 As he considered the matter maturely he came to the 
 conclusion that there must have been something wrong 
 on both sides. If he had presented the truth properly 
 the young man could not have acted so improperly. 
 After recalling the whole affair, he became satisfied that 
 he had relied far too much on his own strong logic, and 
 it had seemed to him that it must convince. He had 
 forgotten for the moment that those who would do good 
 should be very humble, and that, in a certain sense, 
 they must take the hand of God, and place it upon the 
 one whom they would save. 
 
 Thus the honest old clergyman tried to search out the 
 error and weakness which had led to such a lamentable 
 failure in his efforts; and when at last Mrs. Haldane's
 
 14 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 note of sorrowful apology and motherly distress reached 
 him, his anger was not only gone, but his heart was full 
 of commiseration for both herself and her son. He at 
 once sat down, and wrote her a kind and consolatory 
 letter, in which he charged her hereafter to trust less to 
 the "arm of flesh" and more to the " power of God." 
 He also inclosed a note to the young man, which his 
 mother handed to him with a darkly reproachful glance. 
 He opened it with a contemptuous frown, expecting to 
 find within only indignant upbraidings; but his face 
 -changed rapidly as he read the following words : 
 
 My dear young Friend : — I hardly know which of us 
 should apologize. I now perceive and frankly admit that there 
 was wrong on my side. I could not have approached you and 
 spoken to you in the right spirit, for if I had, what followed 
 could not have occurred. I fear there was a self-sufficiency in 
 my words and manner yesterday, which made you conscious of 
 Dr. Marks only, and you had no scruples in dealing with Dr. 
 Marks as you did. If my words and bearing had brought you 
 face to face with my august yet merciful Master, you would 
 have respected Him, and also me. His servant. I confess that 
 I was very angry this morning, for I am human. But now I 
 am more concerned lest I have prejudiced you against Him by 
 whom alone we all are saved. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 Zebulon Marks. 
 
 The moment Haldane finished reading the note he left 
 the room, and his mother heard him at the hat-rack in 
 the hall, preparing to go out. She, supposing that he 
 ■was again about to seek some of his evil haunts, remon- 
 strated sharply ; but, without paying the slightest atten- 
 tion to her words, he departed, and within less than half 
 an hour rang the bell at the parsonage. 
 
 Dr. Marks could scarcely believe his eyes as the young 
 man was shown into his study, but he welcomed him as
 
 BOTH APOLOGIZE. 15 
 
 cordially as though nothing unpleasant had occurred be- 
 tween them. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation and embarrassment Hal- 
 dane began, 
 
 "When I read your note this evening I had not the 
 slightest doubt that 1 was the one to apologize, and I sin- 
 cerely ask your pardon." 
 
 The old gentleman's eyes grew moist, and he blew his 
 nose in a rather unusual manner. But he said promptly : 
 
 "Thank you, my young friend, thank you. I appre- 
 ciate this. But no matter about me. How about my 
 Master? won't you become reconciled to Him? " 
 
 "I suppose by that you mean, won't you be a Chris- 
 tian? " 
 
 " That is just what I mean and most desire. I should 
 be willing to risk broken bones any day to accomplish 
 that." 
 
 Haldane smiled, shook his head, and after a moment 
 said : 
 
 "I must confess that I have not the slightest wish to 
 become a Christian." 
 
 The old gentleman's eager and interested expression 
 •changed instantly to one of the deepest sorrow and com- 
 miseration. At the same time he appeared bewildered 
 and perplexed, but murmured, more in soliloquy than as 
 an address to the young man, 
 
 " O Ephraim ! how shall I give thee up ? " 
 
 Haldane was touched by the venerable man's tone 
 and manner, more than he would have thought possible, 
 and, feeling that he could not trust himself any longer, 
 determined to make his escape as soon as practicable. 
 But as he rose to take his leave he said, a little impul- 
 sively : 
 
 " I feel sure, sir, that if you had spoken and looked 
 yesterday as you do this evening I would not have — I 
 would not have — "
 
 16 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 " I understand, my young friend : I now feel sure that 
 I was more to blame than yourself, and your part is al- 
 ready forgiven and forgotten. I am now only sohcitous 
 Sihoutj/ou." 
 
 " You are very kind to feel so after what has happened, 
 and I will say this much — If I ever do wish to become a 
 Christian, there is no one living to whom I will come for 
 counsel more quickly than yourself. Good night, sir." 
 
 •' Give me your hand before you go." 
 
 It was a strong, warm, lingering grasp that the old 
 man gave, and in the dark days of temptation that fol- 
 lowed, Haldane often felt that it had a helping and sus- 
 taining influence. 
 
 "I wish I could hold on to you," said the doctor 
 huskily ; "I wish I could lead you by loving force into 
 the paths of pleasantness and peace. But what I can't 
 do, God can. Good-by, and God bless you." 
 
 Haldane fled rather precipitously, for he felt that he 
 was becoming constrained by a loving violence that was 
 as mysterious as it was powerful. Before he had passed 
 through the main street of the town, however, a reckless 
 companion placed an arm in his, and led him to one of 
 their haunts, where he drank deeper than usual, that he 
 might get rid of the compunctions which the recent inter- 
 view had occasioned. 
 
 His mother was almost in despair when he returned. 
 He had, indeed, become to her a terrible and perplexing 
 problem. As she considered the legitimate results of her 
 own weak indulgence she would sigh again and again : 
 
 " Never was there a darker and more mysterious prov- 
 idence. I feel that I can neither understand it nor sub- 
 mit." 
 
 A sense of helplessness in dealing with this stubborn 
 and perverse will overwhelmed her, and, while feeling 
 that something must be done, she was at a loss what to 
 do. Her spiritual adviser having failed to meet the case.
 
 BOTH J.rOLOGIZE. 17 
 
 she next summoned her legal counselor, who managed 
 Uer property. 
 
 He was a man of few words, and an adept in worldly 
 wisG'^m. 
 
 • Your son should have employment," he said ; 
 
 " < Satan finds some mischief still 
 For idle hands,' 
 
 etc., is a sound maxim, if not first-class poetry. If Mr. 
 Arnot, the husband of your old friend, is willing to take 
 him, you cannot do better than place your son in his 
 charge, for he is one of the most methodical and success- 
 ful business men of my acquaintance." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot, in response to her friend's letter, induced 
 her husband to make a position in his counting-house for 
 young Haldane, who,, /lom a natural desire to see more 
 of the world, entered iiitj. the arrangement very willingly.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHAINED TO AN ICEBERG. 
 
 HiLLATON, the suburban city in which the Arnots re- 
 sided, was not very distant from New York, and drew 
 much of its prosperity from its relations with the me- 
 tropohs. It prided itself much on being a university 
 town, but more because many old families of extremely 
 blue blood and large wealth gave tone and color to its 
 society. It is true that this highest social circle was very 
 exclusive, and formed but a small fraction of the popu- 
 lation ; but the people in general had come to speak of 
 " our society," as being " unusually good," just as they 
 commended to strangers the architecture of " our col- 
 lege buildings," though they had little to do with either. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's blood, however, was as blue as that of 
 the most ancient and aristocratic of her neighbors, while 
 in character and culture she had few equals. But with 
 the majority of those most cerulean in their vital fluid 
 the fact that she possessed large wealth in her own name, 
 and was the wife of a man engaged in a colossal busi- 
 ness, weighed more than all her graces and ancestral 
 honors. 
 
 Young Haldane's employer, Mr. Arnot, was, indeed, a 
 man of business and method, for the one absorbed his 
 very soul, and the other divided his life into cubes and 
 right angles of manner and habit. It could scarcely be 
 said that he had settled down into ruts, for this would 
 presuppose the passiveness of a nature controlled largely 
 by circumstances. People w^ho travel in ruts drop more 
 often into those made by others than such as are worn by 
 
 18
 
 CHAINED TO AN ICEBERG. 19 
 
 themselves. Mr. Arnot moved rather in his own well- 
 defined grooves, which he had deliberately furrowed out 
 with his own steely will. In these he went through the 
 day with the same strong, relentless precision which 
 characterized the machinery in his several manufactur- 
 ing establishments. 
 
 He was a man, too, who had always had his own way, 
 and, as is usually true in such instances, the forces of his 
 life had become wholly centripetal. 
 
 The cosmos of the selfish man or woman is practically 
 this — Myself the center of the universe, and all things 
 else are near or remote, of value or otherwise, in accord- 
 ance with their value and interest to me. 
 
 Measuring by this scale of distances (which was the 
 only correct one in the case of Mr. Arnot) the wife of his 
 bosom was quite a remote object. She formed no part 
 of his business, and he, in his hard, narrow worldliness, 
 could not even understand the principles and motives of 
 her action. She was a true and dutiful wife, and pre- 
 sided over his household with elegance and refinement ; 
 but he regarded all this as a matter of course. He could 
 not conceive of any thing else in his wife. All his " sub- 
 ordinates " in their several spheres, "must" perform 
 their duties with becoming propriety. Every thing 
 •' must be regular and systematic " in his house, as truly 
 as in his factories and counting-room. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot endeavored to conform to his peculiarities 
 in this respect, and kept open the domestic grooves in 
 which it was necessary to his peace that he should move 
 regularly and methodically. He had his meals at the 
 hour he chose, to the moment, and when he retired to 
 his library — or, rather, the business office at his house — 
 not the throne-room of King Ahasuerus was more sacred 
 from intrusion; and seldom to his wife, even, was the 
 scepter of favor and welcome held out, should she ven- 
 ture to enter.
 
 20 KNIGHT OF THE NUlE'lEENrH CENTURY. 
 
 For a long time she had tried to be m affectionate as 
 well as a faithful wife, for she had married this man 
 from love. She had mistaken his cool self-poise for the 
 calmness and steadiness of strength ; and women are 
 captivated by strength, and sometimes by its semblance. 
 He was strong ; but so also are the driving-wheels of an 
 engine. 
 
 There is an undefined, half-recognized force in nature 
 which leads many to seek to balance themselves by mar- 
 rying their opposites in temperament. While the general 
 working of this tendency is, no doubt, beneficent, it not 
 unfrequently brings together those who are so radically 
 different, that they cannot supplement each other, but 
 must ever remain two distinct, unblended lives, that are 
 in duty bound to obey the letter of the law of marriage, 
 but who cannot fulfill its spirit. 
 
 For years Mrs. Arnot had sought with all a woman's 
 tact to consummate their marriage, so that the mystical 
 words of God, "And they twain shall be one flesh," 
 should describe their union ; but as time passed she had 
 seen her task grow more and more hopeless. The con- 
 trolling principles of each life were utterly different. He 
 was hardening into stone, while the dross and materiality 
 of her nature were being daily refined away. A strong 
 but wholly selfish character cannot blend by giving and 
 taking, and thus becoming modified into something dif- 
 ferent and better. It can only absorb, and thus drag 
 down to its own condition. Before there can be unity, 
 the weaker one must give up and yield personal will and 
 independence to such a degree that it is almost equiva- 
 lent to being devoured and assimilated. 
 
 But Mr. Arnot seemed to grow too narrow and self- 
 sufificient in his nature for such spiritual cannibalism, 
 even had his wife been a weak, neutral character, with 
 no decided and persistent individuality of her own. He 
 was not slow in exacting outward and mechanical service.
 
 CHAINED TO AN ICEBERG. 21 
 
 but he had no time to " bother" with her thoughts, feel- 
 ings, and opinions ; nor did he think it worth while, to 
 any extent, to lead her to reflect only his feelings and 
 opinions. Neither she nor any one else was very essen- 
 tial to him. His business was necessary, and he valued 
 it even more than the wealth which resulted from it. He 
 grew somewhat like his machinery, which needed atten- 
 tion, but which cherished no sentiments toward those who 
 waited on it during its hours of motion. 
 
 Thus, though not deliberately intending it, his manner 
 toward his wife had come to be more and more the 
 equivalent of a steady black frost, and she at last feared 
 that the man had congealed or petrified to his very 
 heart's core. 
 
 While the only love in Mr. Arnot's heart was self-love, 
 even in this there existed no trace of weak indulgence 
 and tenderness. His life consisted in making his vast 
 and complicated business go forward steadily, systemat- 
 ically, and successfully ; and he would not permit that 
 entity known as Thomas Arnot to thwart him any more 
 than he would brook opposition or neglect in his office- 
 boy. All things, even himself, must bend to the further- 
 ance of his cherished objects. 
 
 But, whatever else was lacking, Mr. Arnot had a pro- 
 found respect for his wife. First and chiefly, she was 
 wealthy, and he, having control of her property, made 
 it subservient to his business. He had chafed at first 
 against what he termed her " sentimental ways of doing 
 good " and her " ridiculous theories," but in these mat- 
 ters he had ever found her as gentle as a woman, but as 
 unyielding as granite. She told him plainly that her re- 
 ligious life and its expression were matters between her- 
 self and God — that it was a province into which his cast- 
 iron system and material philosophy could not enter. 
 He grumbled at her large charities, and declared that 
 she " turned their dwelling into a club-house for young
 
 22 KNKillT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 men;" but she followed her conscience with such a 
 quiet, unswerving dignity that he found no pretext for 
 interference. The money she gave away was her own, 
 and fortunately, the house to which it was her delight to 
 draw young men from questionable and disreputable 
 places of resort had been left to her by her father. 
 Though she did not continually remind her husband of 
 these facts, as an under-bred woman might have done, 
 her manner was so assured and unhesitating that he was 
 compelled to recognize her rights, and to see that she 
 was fully aware of them also. Since she yielded so 
 gracefully and considerately all and more than he could 
 justly claim, he finally concluded to ignore what he re- 
 garded as her "peculiarities." As for himself, he had 
 no peculiarities'. He was a " pracdcal, sensible man, 
 with no nonsense about him." 
 
 Mrs. Hakiane had been in such sore straits and per- 
 plexity about her son that she overcame her habitual re- 
 serve upon family and personal matters, and wrote \.o 
 her friend a long and confidential letter, in which she 
 fully described the " mysterious providence " which was 
 clouding her life. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot had long been aw^are of her friend's in- 
 firmity, and more than once had sought with delicacy 
 and yet with faithfulness to open her eyes to the conse- 
 •quences of her indulgence. But Mrs. Haldane, unfor- 
 tunately, was incapable of taking a broad, and therefore 
 correct, view of any thing. She was governed far more 
 by her prejudices and feelings than by reason or experi- 
 ence, and the emotion or prejudice uppermost absorbed 
 her mind so completely as to exclude all other consider- 
 ations. Her friendship for Mrs. Arnot had commenced 
 at school, but the two ladies had developed so differently 
 that the relation had become more a cherished memory 
 of the happy past than a congenial intimacy of their 
 maturer life.
 
 CHAIXED TO AN ICEBERG. 23 
 
 The " mysterious providence " of which Mrs. Haldane 
 wrote was to Mrs. Arnot a legitimate and ahnost inevita- 
 ble result. But, now that the mischief had been accom- 
 phshed, she was the last one in the world to say to her 
 friend, "I told you so." To her mind the providential 
 feature in the matter was the chance that had come to 
 her of counteracting the evil which the mother had un- 
 consciously developed. This opportunity was in the line 
 of her most cherished plan and hope of usefulness, as 
 will be hereafter seen, and she had lost no time in per- 
 suading her husband to give Haldane employment in his 
 counting-room. She also secured his consent that the 
 youth should become a member of the family, for a time 
 at least. Mr. Arnot yielded these points reluctantly, for 
 it was a part of his policy to have no more personal re- 
 lations with his employes than with his machinery. He 
 wished them to feel that they were merely a part of his 
 system, and that the moment any one did not work reg- 
 ularly and accurately he must be cast aside as certainly 
 as a broken or defective wheel. But as his wife's wealth 
 made her practically a silent partner in his vast business, 
 he yielded — though with rather ill grace, and with a pre- 
 diction that it " would not work well." 
 
 Haldane w^as aware that his mother had written a long 
 letter to Mrs. Arnot, and he supposed that his employer 
 and his wife had thus become acquainted with all his 
 misdeeds. He, therefore, rather dreaded to meet those 
 who must, from the first, regard him as a graceless and 
 difficult subject, that could not be managed at home. 
 But, with the characteristic recklessness of young men 
 who have wealth to fall back upon, he had fortified him- 
 self by thoughts like the following : 
 
 " If they do not treat me well, or try to put me into a 
 straight-jacket, or if I find the 'counting-house too dull, 
 I can bid them good morning whenever I choose." 
 
 But Mrs. Arnot' s frank and cordial reception was an
 
 24 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 agreeable surprise. He arrived quite late in the evening, 
 and she had a dehghtful little lunch brought to him in 
 her private parlor. By the time it was eaten her grace- 
 ful tact had banished all stiffness and sense of strange- 
 ness, and he found himself warming into friendliness 
 toward one whom he had especially dreaded as a "re- 
 markably pious lady " — for thus his mother had always 
 spoken of her. 
 
 It was scarcely strange that he should be rapidly dis- 
 armed by this lady, who cannot be described in a para- 
 graph. Though her face was rather plain, it was so 
 expressive of herself that it seldom failed to fascinate. 
 Nature can do much to render a countenance attractive, 
 but character accomplishes far more. The beauty which 
 is of feature merely catches the careless, wandering eye. 
 The beauty which is the reflex of character holds the eye, 
 and eventually wins the heart. Those who knew Mrs. 
 Arnot best declared that, instead of growing old and 
 homely, she was growing more lovely every year. Her 
 ■dark hair had turned gray early, and was fast becoming 
 snowy white. For some years after her marriage she 
 had grown old very fast. She had dwelt, as it were, on 
 the northern side of an iceberg, and in her vain attempt 
 to melt and humanize it, had alrnost perished herself. 
 As the earthly streams and rills that fed her life con- 
 gealed, she was led to accept of the love of God, and 
 the long arctic winter of her despair passed gradually 
 away. She was now growing young again. A faint 
 bloom was dawning in her cheeks, and her form was 
 gaining that fullness which is associated with the ma- 
 turity of middle age. H<;r bright black eyes were 
 the most attractive and expressive feature which she 
 possessed, and they often seemed gifted with peculiar 
 powers. • 
 
 As they beamed upon the young man they had much 
 the same effect as the anthracite coals which glowed in
 
 CHAINED TO AN ICEBERG. 25 
 
 the grate, and he began to be conscious of some disposi- 
 tion to give her his confidence. 
 
 Having dismissed the servant with the lunch tray, she 
 caused him to draw his chair sociably up to the fire, and 
 said, without any circumlocution : 
 
 "Mr. Haldane, perhaps this is the best time for us to 
 have a frank talk in regard to the future." 
 
 The young man thought that this was the preface for 
 some decided criticism of the past, and his face became 
 a little hard and defiant. But in this he was mistaken, 
 for the lady made no reference to his faults, of which 
 she had been informed by his mother. She spoke in a 
 kindly but almost in a business-like way of his duties in 
 the counting-room, and of the domestic rules of the house- 
 hold, to which he would be expected to conform. She 
 also spoke plainly of her husband's inexorable require- 
 ment of system, regularity, and order, and dwelt upon 
 the fact that all in his employ conformed to this demand,, 
 and that it was the business-like and manly thing to do. 
 
 " This is your first venture out into the world, I under- 
 stand," she said, rising to intimate that their interview 
 was over, " and I greatly wish that it may lead toward a 
 useful and successful career. I have spoken plainly be- 
 cause I wished you to realize just what you have under- 
 taken, and thus meet with no unpleasant surprises or 
 unexpected experiences. When one enters upon a course 
 with his eyes open, he in a certain sense pledges himself 
 to do the best he can in that line of duty, and our ac- 
 quaintance, though so brief, has convinced me that you 
 ccm do very well indeed." 
 
 "I was under the impression," said the young man^ 
 coloring deeply, " that my mother's letter had led you to 
 suppose — to expect just the contrary." 
 
 " Mr. Haldane," said Mrs. Arnot, giving him her hand 
 with graceful tact, " I shall form my opinion of you solely 
 on the ground of your own action, and I wish you to think
 
 126 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of me as a friend who takes a genuine interest in your 
 success. Good night." 
 
 He went to his room in quite a heroic and virtuous 
 mood. 
 
 ••She does not treat me a bit hke a • bad boy,' as I 
 supposed she would," he thought ; " but appears to take 
 it for granted that I shall be a gentleman in this her 
 house, and a sensible fellow in her husband's office. 
 Blow me if I disappoint her ! " 
 
 Nor did he for several weeks. Even Mr. Arnot was 
 •compelled to admit that it did "work rather better than 
 he expected," and that he '•supposed the young fellow 
 •did as well as he could." 
 
 As the novelty of Haldane's new relations wore off, 
 liowever, and as his duties became so familiar as to be 
 chiefly a matter of routine, the grave defects of his char- 
 acter and training began to show themselves. The re- 
 straint of the counting-room grew irksome. Associations 
 were formed in the city which tended toward his old evil 
 habits. As a piece of Mr. Arnot' s machinery he did not 
 Tiiove with the increasing precision that his employer re- 
 -quired and expected on his becoming belter acquainted 
 nvith his duties. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot had expected this, and knew that her hus- 
 'Oand would tolerate carelessness and friction only up to 
 a certain point. She had gained more influence over the 
 young man than any one else had ever possessed, and 
 by means of it kept him within bounds for some time ; 
 but she saw from her husband's manner that things were 
 fast approaching a crisis. 
 
 One evening she kindly, but frankly, told him of the 
 danger in which he stood of an abrupt, stern dismissal. 
 
 He was more angry than alarmed, and during the 
 following day about concluded that he would save him- 
 self any such mortification by leaving of his own accord. 
 He quite persuaded himself that he had a soul above
 
 CHAINED TO AN ICEBERG. 27 
 
 plodding business, and that, after enjoying himself at 
 home for a time, he could enter upon some other career,, 
 that promised more congeniality and renown. 
 
 In order that his employer might not anticipate him, 
 he performed his duties very accurately that day, but 
 left the office with the expectation of never returning. 
 
 He had very decided compunctions in thus requiting 
 Mrs. Arnot's kindness, but muttered recklessly : 
 
 " I'm tired of this humdrum, treadmill life, and believe 
 I'm destined to better things. If I could only get a good 
 position in the army or navy, the world would hear from 
 me. They say money opens every door, and mother 
 must open some good w^ide door for me." 
 
 Regardless now of his employer's good or bad opinion, 
 he came down late to supper ; but, instead of observing 
 with careless defiance the frown which he knew lowered 
 toward him, hfs eyes were drawn to a fair young face on 
 the opposite side of the table. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot, in her pleasant, cordial voice, which made 
 the simplest thing she said seem real and hearty, rather 
 than conventional, introduced him : 
 
 "Mr. Haldane, my niece, Miss Laura Romeyn. 
 Laura, no doubt, can do far more than an old lady to 
 make your evenings pass brightly." 
 
 After a second glance of scrutiny, Haldane was so 
 ungratefully forgetful of all Mrs. Arnot's kindness as to 
 be inclined to agree with her remark.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IMMATURE. 
 
 " Is she a young lady, or merely a school-girl? " was 
 Haldane's query concerning the stranger sitting opposite 
 to him ; and he addressed to her a few commonplace but 
 exploring remarks. Regarding himself as well acquainted 
 with society in general, and young ladies in particular, 
 he expected to solve the question at once, and was per- 
 plexed that he could not. He had flirted with several 
 misses as immature as himself, and so thought that he 
 •was profoundly versed in the mysteries of the sex. 
 "^'They naturally lean toward and look ifp to men, and 
 one is a fool, or else lacking in personal appearance, who 
 does not have his own way with them," was his opinion, 
 substantially. 
 
 Modesty is a grace which fine-looking young men of 
 large wealth are often taught by some severe experiences, 
 if it is ever learned. Haldane, as yet, had not received 
 such wholesome depletion. His self-approval and as- 
 surance, moreover, were quite natural, since his mother 
 and sisters had seldom lost an opportunity of developing 
 and confirming these traits. The yielding of women to 
 his will and wishes had been one of the most uniform 
 experiences of his life, and he had come to regard it as 
 the natural order of things. Without formulating the 
 thought in plain words, he nevertheless regarded Mrs. 
 Arnot's kindness, by which she sought to gain a helpful 
 influence over him, as largely due to some peculiar fasci- 
 nation of his own, which made him a favoiite wherever 
 he chose to be. Of course, the young stranger on the 
 
 28
 
 nniA TUBE. 29 
 
 opposite side of the table would prove no exception ta 
 the rule, and all he had to do was to satisfy himself that 
 she was sufficiently pretty and interesting to make it 
 worth while to pay her a httle attention. 
 
 But for some reason she did not seem greatly im- 
 pressed by his commonplace and rather patronizing 
 remarks. Was it pride or dignity on her part, or was it 
 mere girhsh shyness ? It must be the latter, for there was 
 no occasion for pride and dignity in her manner tov. ard 
 him. 
 
 Then came the thought that possibly Mrs. Arnot had 
 not told her who he was, and that she looked upon him 
 as a mere clerk of low degree. To remove from her 
 mind any such error, his tones and manner became stilt 
 more self-asserting and patronizing. 
 
 " If she has any sense at all," he thought, " she shall 
 see that I have peculiar claims to her respect." 
 
 As he proceeded in these tactics, there was a growing 
 expression of surprise and a trace of indignation upon the 
 young girl's face. Mrs. Arnot watched the by-play with 
 an amused expression. There was not much cynicism 
 in her nature. She believed that experience would soon 
 prick the bubble of his vanity and it was her disposition 
 to smile rather than to sneer at absurdity in others. 
 Besides, she was just. She never applied to a young 
 man of twenty the standard by which she would measure 
 those of her own age, and she remembered Haldane's an- 
 tecedents. But Mr. Arnot went to his library muttering, 
 
 " The ridiculous fool ! " 
 
 When Miss Romeyn rose from the table, Haldane 
 saw that she was certainly tall enough to be a young 
 lady, for she was slightly above medium height. He still 
 believed that she was very young, however, for her figure 
 was slight and girhsh, and while her bearing was grace- 
 ful it had not that assured and pronounced character to 
 which he had been accustomed.
 
 30 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 "She evidently has not seen much of society. Well, 
 since she is not gawky, I like her better than if she were 
 i?Iase. Any thing but your b/ase girls," he observed to 
 himself, with a consciousness that he was an experienced 
 man of the world. 
 
 The piano stood open in the drawing-room, and this 
 suggested music. Haldane had at his tongue's end the 
 names of half a dozen musicians whose professional titles 
 had been prominent in the newspapers for a few months 
 previous, and whose merits had formed a part of the 
 •current chit-chat of the day. Some he had heard, and 
 others he had not, but he could talk volubly of all, and 
 he asked Miss Romeyn for her opinion of one and another 
 in a manner which implied that of course she knew about 
 them, and that ignorance in regard to such persons was 
 not to be expected. 
 
 Her face colored with annoyance, but she said quietly 
 and a trifle coldly that she had not heard them. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot again smiled as she watched the young 
 people, but she now came to her niece's rescue, thinking 
 also it would be well to disturb Haldane' s sense of supe- 
 riority somewhat. So she said : 
 
 " Laura, since we cannot hear this evening the cele- 
 brated artists that Mr. Haldane has mentioned, we must 
 content ourselves with simple home music. Won't you 
 play for us that last selection of which you wrote to me ? " 
 
 " I hardly dare, auntie, since Mr. Haldane is such a 
 critical judge, and has heard so much music from those 
 who make it a business to be perfect. He must have 
 listened to the selection you name a hundred times, for it 
 is familiar to most lovers of good music," 
 
 Haldane had sudden misgivings. Suppose he had not 
 heard it? This would be awkward, after his assumed 
 acquaintance with such matters. 
 
 " Even if Mr. Haldane is familiar with it," Mrs. Arnot 
 replied, " Steibelt's Storm Rondo will bear repetition.
 
 IMMATURE. 31 
 
 Besides, his criticism may be helpful, since he can tell 
 you wherein you come short of the skilled professionals." 
 
 Laura caught the twinkle in her aunt's eye, and went 
 to the piano. 
 
 The young man saw at once that he had been caught 
 in his own trap, for the music was utterly unfamiliar. 
 The rondo was no wonderful piece of intricacy, such as a 
 professional might choose. On the contrary, it was 
 simple, and quite within the capabilities of a young and 
 well-taught girl. But it was full of rich melody which 
 even he, in his ignorance, could understand and appre- 
 ciate, and yet, for aught that he knew, it was difficult in 
 the extreme. 
 
 At first he had a decided sense of humiliation, and a 
 consciousness that it was deserved. He had been talk- 
 ing largely and confidently of an art concerning which 
 he knew little, and in which he began to think that his 
 listener was quite well versed. 
 
 But as the thought of the composer grew in power and 
 beauty he forgot himself and his dilemma in his enjoy- 
 ment. Two senses were finding abundant gratification 
 at the same time, for it was a delight to listen, and it was 
 even a greater pleasure to look at the performer. 
 
 She gave him a quick, shy glance of observation, fear- 
 ing somewhat that she might see severe judgment or else 
 cool indifference in the expression of his face, and she 
 was naturally pleased and encouraged when she saw, in- 
 stead, undisguised admiration. His previous manner had 
 annoyed her, and she determined to show him that his 
 superior airs were quite uncalled for. Thus the diffident 
 girl was led to surpass herself, and infuse so much spirit 
 and gr^ce into her playing as to surprise even her aunt. 
 
 Haldane was soon satisfied that she was more than 
 pretty — that she was beautiful. Her features, that had 
 seemed too thin and colorless, flushed with excitement, 
 and her blue eyes, which he had thought cold and ex-
 
 32 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 pressionless, kindled until they became lustrous. He 
 felt, in a way that he could not define to himself, that her 
 face was full of power and mind and that she was different 
 from the pretty girls who had hitherto been his favorites. 
 
 As she rose from the piano he was mastered by one of 
 those impulses which often served him in the place of 
 something better, and he said impetuously : 
 
 "Miss Romeyn, I beg your pardon. You know a 
 hundred-fold more about music than I do, and I have 
 been talking as if the reverse were true. I never heard 
 any thing so fine in my life, and I also confess that I 
 never heard that piece before." 
 
 The young girl blushed with pleasure on having thus 
 speedily vanquished this superior being, whom she had 
 Deen learning both to dread and dislike. At the same 
 dme his frank, impulsive words of compliment did much 
 to remove the prejudice which she was naturally forming 
 against him. Mrs. Arnot said, with her mellow laugh, 
 that often accomplished more than long homilies : 
 
 "That is a manly speech, Egbert, and much to your 
 credit. ' Honest confession is good for the soul.' " 
 
 Haldane did not get on his stilts again that evening, 
 and before it was over he concluded that Miss Romeyn 
 was the most charming young lady he had ever met, 
 though, for some reason, she still permitted him to do 
 nearly all the talking. She bade him good night, how- 
 ever, with a smile that was not unkindly, and which was 
 interpreted by him as being singularly gracious. 
 
 By this time he had concluded that Miss Romeyn was 
 a " young \2idy par exceHence ; " but it has already been 
 shown that his judgment in most matters was not to be 
 trusted. Whether she was a school-girl or a fully fledged 
 young lady, a child or a woman, might have kept a 
 closer observer than himself much longer in doubt. In 
 truth, she was scarcely the one or the other, and had 
 many of the characteristics of both. His opinion of her
 
 IMMATURE, 33 
 
 was as incorrect as that of himself. He was not a man, 
 though he considered himself a superior one, and had 
 attained to manly proportions. 
 
 But there were wide differences in their immaturity. 
 She was forming under the guidance of a mother who 
 blended firmness and judgment equally with love. Gen- 
 tle blood was in her veins, and she had inherited many 
 of her mother's traits with her beauty. Her parents, 
 however, believed that, even as the garden of Eden 
 needed to be " dressed and kept," so the nature of their 
 child required careful pruning, with repression here and 
 development there. While the young girl was far from 
 being faultless, fine traits and tendencies dominated, and, 
 though as yet undeveloped, they were unfolding with the 
 naturalness and beauty of a budding flower. 
 
 In Haldane's case evil traits were in the ascendant, 
 and the best hope for him was that they as yet had not 
 become confirmed. 
 
 " Who is this Mr. Haldane, auntie? " Laura asked on 
 reaching her room. There was a slight trace of vexation 
 in her tone. 
 
 " He is the son of an old friend of mine. I have in- 
 duced my husband to try to give him a business educa- 
 tion. You do not like him." 
 
 " I did not like him at all at first, but he improves a 
 little on acquaintance. Is he a fair sample of your young 
 n\Qn proteges ? " 
 
 " He is the least promising of any of them," replied 
 Mrs. Arnot, sitting down before the fire. Laura saw that 
 her face had become shadowed with sadness and anxiety. 
 
 " You look troubled, auntie. Is he the cause ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Are you very much interested in him ?" 
 
 " I am, Laura ; very much, indeed. I cannot bear to 
 give him up, and yet I fear I must." 
 
 "Is he a very interesting ' case ? ' " asked the y^^Mig
 
 34 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 girl in some surprise, " Mother often laughingly calls 
 the young men you are trying to coax to be good by your 
 winning ways, ' cases.' I don't know much about young 
 men, but should suppose that you had many under treat- 
 ment much more interesting than he is." 
 
 "Sister Fanny is always laughing at my hobby, and 
 saying that, since I have no children of my own, I try to 
 adopt every young man who will give me a chance. 
 Perhaps if I try to carry out your mother's figure, you 
 will understand why I am so interested in this ' case.' If 
 I were a physician and had charge of a good many pa- 
 tients, ought I not to be chiefly interested in those who 
 were in the most critical and dangerous condition? " 
 
 " It would be just like you to be so, auntie, and I 
 would not mind being quite ill myself if I could have 
 you to take care of me. I hope the young men whom 
 you ' adopt' appreciate their privileges." 
 
 " The trouble with most of us, Laura, is that we become 
 wise too late in life. Young people are often their own 
 worst enemies, and if you wish to do them good, you 
 must do it, as it were, on the sly. If one tries openly to 
 reform and guide them — if I should say plainly. Such 
 and such are your faults ; such and such places and as- 
 sociations are full of danger — they would be angry or 
 disgusted, or they would say I was blue and strait-laced, 
 and had an old woman's notions of what a man should 
 be. I must coax them, as you say ; I must disguise my 
 medicines, and apply my remedies almost without their 
 knowing it. I also find it true in my practice that tonics 
 and good wholesome diet are better than all moral drugs. 
 It seems to me that if I can bring around these giddy 
 young fellows refining, steadying, purifying influences, I 
 can do them more good than if I lectured them. The 
 latter is the easier way, and many take it. It would re- 
 quire but a few minutes to tell this young Haldane what 
 his wise safe course must be if he would avoid shipwreck ;
 
 IMMATURE. 35 
 
 but I can see his face flush and hp curl at my homily. 
 And yet for weeks I have been angling for him, and I 
 fear to no purpose. Your uncle may discharge him any 
 day. It makes me very sad to say it, but if he goes 
 home I think he will also go to ruin. Thank God for 
 your good, wise mother, Laura. It is a great thing to be 
 started right in life." 
 
 "Then this young man has been started wrong?' 
 
 " Yes, wrong indeed." 
 
 " Is he so very bad, auntie ? " Laura asked with a face 
 full of serious concern. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot smiled as she said, " If you were a young 
 society chit, you might think him ' very nice,' as their 
 slang goes. He is good-looking and rich, and his incli- 
 nation to be fast would be a piquant fact in his favor. 
 He has done things which would seem to you very wrong 
 indeed. But he is foolish and ill-trained rather than bad. 
 He is a spoiled boy, and spoiled boys are apt to become 
 spoiled men. I have told you all this partly because, 
 having been your' mother's companion all your hfe, you 
 are so old-fashioned that I can talk to you almost as I 
 would to sister Fanny, and partly because I like to talk 
 about my hobby." 
 
 A young girl naturally has quick sympathies, and all 
 the influences of Laura's hfe had been gentle and 
 humane. Her aunt's words speedily led her to regard 
 Haldane as an «• interesting case," a sort of fever patient 
 who was approaching the crisis of his disease. Curling 
 down on the floor, and leaning her arms on her aunt's lap, 
 she looked up with a face full of solicitude as she asked : 
 
 "And don't you think you can save him? Please 
 don't give up trying." 
 
 " I like the expression of your face now," said Mrs. 
 Arnot, stroking the abundant tresses, that were falling 
 loosely fiom the girl's head, " for in it I catch a glimpse 
 of the divine ii'^^eje. Many think of God as looking
 
 36 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 down angrily and frowningly upon the foolish and way- 
 ward ; but I see in the solicitude of your face a faint re- 
 flection of the ' Not willing that any should perish ' which 
 it ever seems to me is the expression of His." 
 
 " Laura," said she abruptly, after a moment, " did any 
 one ever tell you that you were growing up very pretty ? " 
 
 " No, auntie," said the girl, blushing and laughing. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane told you so this evening." 
 
 " O auntie, you are mistaken ; he could not have been 
 so rude." 
 
 "He did not make a set speech to that effect, my 
 dear, but he told you so by his eyes and manner, only 
 you are such an innocent home child that you did not 
 notice. But when you go into society you will be told 
 this fact so often that you will be compelled to heed it, 
 and will soon learn the whole language of flattery ^ 
 spoken and unspoken. Perhaps I had better forewarn 
 you a little, and so forearm you. What are you going to 
 do with your beauty ? " 
 
 "Why, auntie, how funny you talk! Wliat should I 
 do with it, granting that it has any existence save in your 
 fond eyes? " 
 
 •• Suppose you use it to make men better, instead of to 
 make them merely admire you. One can't be a belle 
 very long at best, and of all the querulous, discontented, 
 and disagreeable people that I have met, superannuated 
 belles, who could no longer obtain their revenue of flat- 
 tery, were the worst. They were impoverished, indeed. 
 If you do as I suggest, you will have much that is pleasant 
 to think about when you come to be as old as I am. Per- 
 haps you can do more for young Haldane than I can." 
 
 " Now, auntie, what can I do ? " 
 
 "That which nearly all women can do : be kind and 
 winning; make our safe, cozy parlor so attractive that he 
 will not go out evenings to places which tend to destroy 
 him. You feel an interest in him ; show it. Ask him
 
 nniA TUBE. 37 
 
 about his business, and get him to explain it to you. 
 Suggest that if you were a man you would like to master 
 your work, and become eminent in it. Show by your 
 manner and by words, if occasion offers, that you love 
 and revere all that is sacred, pure, and Christian. 
 Laura, innocent dove as you are, you know that many 
 women beguile men to ruin with smiles. Men can be 
 beguiled from ruin with smiles. Indeed, I think multi- 
 tudes are permitted to go to destruction because women 
 are so unattractive, so absorbed in themselves and their 
 nerves. If mothers and wives, maidens and old maids, 
 would all commence playing the agreeable to the men of 
 their household and circle, not for the sake of a few com- 
 pliments, but for the purpose of luring them from evil and 
 making them better, the world would improve at once." 
 
 " I see, auntie," said Laura, laughing ; "you wish to 
 administer me as a sugar-coated pill to your ' difficult 
 case.' " 
 
 A deep sigh was the only answer, and, looking up, Laura 
 saw that her words had not been heeded. Tears were in 
 her aunt's eyes, and after a moment she said brokenly : 
 
 '• My theories seem true enough, and yet how signally 
 I have failed in carrying them out ! Perhaps it is my 
 fault ; perhaps it is my fault ; but I've tried — oh ! how I 
 have tried ! Laura, dear, you know that I am a lonely 
 woman ; but do not let this prejudice you against what I 
 have said. Good night, dear ; I have kept you up too 
 long after your journey." 
 
 Her niece understood her allusion to the cold, unlov- 
 ing man who sat alone every evening in his dim library, 
 thinking rarely of his wife, but often of her wealth, and 
 how it might increase his leverage in his herculean 
 labors. The young girl had the tact to reply only by a 
 warm, lingering embrace. It was an old sorrow, of 
 which she had long been aware ; but it seemed without 
 remedy, and was rarely touched upon.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 passion's clamor. 
 
 Laura had a strong affection for her aunt, and would 
 naturally be inclined to gratify any wishes that she might 
 express, even had they involved tasks uncongenial and 
 unattractive. But the proposal that she should become 
 an ally in the effort to lure young Haldane from his evil 
 associations, and awaken within him pure and refined 
 tastes, was decidedly attractive. She was peculiarly 
 romantic in her disposition, and no rude contact with 
 the commonplace, common-sense world had chastened 
 her innocent fancies by harsh and disagreeable experi- 
 ence. Her Christian training and girlish simplicity lifted 
 her above the ordinary romanticism of imagining herself 
 the heroine in every instance, and the object and end of 
 all masculine aspirations. On this occasion she simply 
 desired to act the part of a humble assistant of Mrs. 
 Arnot, whom she regarded as Haldane's good angel ; 
 and she was quite as disinterested in her hope for the 
 young man's moral improvement as her aunt herself. 
 
 The task, moreover, was doubly pleasing since she 
 could perform it in a way that was so womanly and 
 agreeable. She could scarcely have given Haldane a 
 plain talk on the evils of fast living to save her life, but if 
 she could keep young men from going to destruction by 
 smiling upon them, by games of backgammon and by 
 music, she felt in the mood to be a missionary all her 
 life, especially if she could have so safe and attractive a 
 field of labor as her aunt's back parlor. 
 
 But the poor child would soon learn that perverse 
 
 S8
 
 PASSION'S CLA3I0B. 39 
 
 human nature is much the same in a drawing-room and 
 a tenement-house, and that all who seek to improve it 
 are doomed to meet much that is excessively annoying 
 and discouraging. 
 
 The simple-hearted girl no more foresaw what might 
 result from her smiles than an ignorant child would an- 
 ticipate the consequences of fire falling on grains of 
 harmless-looking black sand. She had never seen pas- 
 sion kindhng and flaming till it seemed like a scorching 
 fire, and had not learned by experience that in some 
 circumstances her smiles might be hke incendiary sparks 
 to powder. 
 
 In seeking to manage her " difficult case," Mrs. Arnot 
 should have foreseen the danger of employing such a 
 fascinating young creature as her assistant ; but in these 
 matters the wisest often err, and only comprehend the 
 evil after it has occurred. Laura was but a child in 
 years, having passed her fifteenth birthday only a few 
 months previous, and Haldane seemed to the lady 
 scarcely more than a boy. She did not intend that her 
 niece should manifest any thing more than a little win- 
 ning kindness and interest, barely enough to keep the 
 young fellow from spending his evenings out she knew 
 not where. He was at just the age when the glitter and 
 tinsel of public amusements are most attractive. She 
 believed that if she could familiarize his mind with the 
 real gold and clear diamond flash of pure home pleasures, 
 and those which are enjoyed in good society, he would 
 eventually become disgusted with gilt, varnish, and paste. 
 If Laura had been a very plain girl, she might have 
 seconded Mrs. Arnot's efforts to the utmost without any 
 unpleasant results, even if no good ones had followed; 
 and it may w^ell be doubted whether any of the latter 
 would have ensued. Haldane's disease was too deeply 
 rooted, and his tastes vitiated to such a degree that he 
 had lost the power to relish long the simple enjoyments
 
 40 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of Mrs. Arnot's parlor. He already craved the pleasures 
 which first kindle and excite and then consume. 
 
 Laura, however, was not plain and ordinary, and the 
 smiles which were intended as innocent lures from snares, 
 instead of into them, might make trouble for all concerned. 
 Haldane was naturally combustible, to begin with, and 
 was now at the most inflammable period of his life. 
 
 The profoundest master of human nature portrayed to 
 the world a Romeo and a Juliet, both mastered by a 
 passion which but a few words and glances had kindled. 
 There are many Romeos who do not find their Juliets so 
 sympathetic and responsive, and they usually develop at 
 about the age of Haldane. Indeed, nearly all young 
 men of sanguine temperaments go through the Romeo 
 stage, and they are fortunate if they pass it without doing 
 any thing especially ridiculous or disastrous. These 
 sudden attacks are exceedingly absurd to older and cooler 
 friends, but to the victims themselves they are tremen- 
 dously real and tragic for the time being. More hearts 
 are broken into indefinite fragments before twenty than 
 ever after ; but, hke the broken bones of the young, 
 they usually knit readily together again, and are just as 
 good for all practical purposes. 
 
 There was nothing unusual in the fact, therefore, that 
 Haldane was soon deeply enamored with his new ac- 
 quaintance. It was true that Laura had given him the 
 mildest and most innocent kind of encouragement — and 
 the result would probably have been the same if she had 
 given him none at all — but his vanity, and what he chose 
 to regard as his " undying love," interpreted all her ac- 
 tions, and gave volumes of meaning to a kindly glance 
 or a pleasant word. Indeed, before there had been time 
 to carry out, to any extent, the tactics her aunt had pro- 
 posed, symptoms of his malady appeared. While she 
 was regarding him merely as one of her aunt's " cases," 
 and a very hard one at best, and thought of herself as
 
 PASSION'S CLAMOR. 41 
 
 trying to help a little, as a child might hold a bandage 
 or a medicine phial for experienced hands, he, on the 
 contrary, had begun to mutter to himself that she was 
 " the divinest woman God ever fashioned." 
 
 There was now no trouble about his spending evenings 
 elsewhere, and the maiden was perplexed and annoyed 
 at finding her winning ways far too successful, and that 
 the one she barely hoped to keep from the vague — and to 
 her mind, horrible — places of temptation, was becoming 
 as adhesive as sticking-plaster. If she smiled, he smiled 
 and ogled far too much in return. If she chatted with 
 one and another of the young men who found Mrs. Ar- 
 not's parlor the most attractive place open to them in the 
 town, he would assume a manner designed to be darkly 
 tragical, but which to the young girl had more the ap- 
 pearance of sulking. 
 
 She was not so much of a child as to be unable ta 
 comprehend Haldane's symptoms, and she was suffi- 
 ciently a woman not to be excessively angry. And yet 
 she was greatly annoyed and perplexed. At times his 
 action seemed so absurd that she was glad to escape to 
 her room, that she might give way to her merriment ; 
 and again he would appear so much in earnest that she 
 was quite as inclined to cry and to think seriously of 
 bringing her visit to an abrupt termination. 
 
 While under Mrs. Arnot's eye Haldane was distant 
 and circumspect, but the moment he was alone with 
 Laura his manner became unmistakably demonstrative. 
 
 At first she was disposed to tell her aunt all about the 
 young man's sentimental manner, but the fact that it 
 seemed so ridiculous deterred her. She still regarded 
 herself as a child, and that any one should be seriously 
 in love with her after but a few days' acquaintance 
 seemed absurdity itself. Her aunt might think her very 
 vain for even imagining such a thing, and, perhaps, after 
 all it was only her own imagination.
 
 42 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane has acted queerly from llie first," she 
 concluded, " and the best thing I can do is to think no 
 more about him, and let auntie manage her ' difficult 
 case ' without me. If I am to help in these matters, I 
 had better commence with a ' case ' that is not so ' diffi- 
 cult.' " 
 
 She therefore sought to avoid the young man, and 
 prove by her manner that she was utterly indifferent to 
 him, hoping that this course would speedily cure him of 
 his folly. She would venture into the parlor only when 
 her aunt or guests were there, and would then try to 
 make herself generally agreeable, without an apparent 
 thought for him. 
 
 While she assured herself that she did not like him, 
 and that he was in no respect a person to be admired and 
 liked, she still found herself thinking about him quite 
 often. He was her first recognized lover. Indeed, few 
 had found opportunity to give more than admiring glances 
 to the little nun, who thus far had been secluded almost 
 continuously in the safest of all cloisters — a country 
 home. It was a decided novelty that a young man, al- 
 most six feet in height, should be looking unutterable 
 things in her direction whenever she was present. She 
 wished he wouldn't, but since he would, she could not 
 help thinking about him, and how she could manage to 
 make him '* behave sensibly." 
 
 She did not maintain her air of indifference very per- 
 fectly, however, for she had never been schooled by ex- 
 perience, and was acting solely on the intuitions of her 
 sex. She could not forbear giving a quick glance oc- 
 casionally to see how he was taking his lesson. At times 
 he was scowling and angry, and then she could maintain 
 her part without difficulty ; again he would look so mis- 
 erable that, out of pity, she would relent into a half 
 smile, but immediately reproach herself for being " so 
 fooUsh."
 
 PASSION'S CLAMOR. 43 
 
 Haldane's manner soon attracted Mrs. Arnot's atten- 
 tion, notwithstanding his effort to disguise from her his 
 feehng ; and a httle observation on the part of the ex- 
 perienced matron enabled her to guess how matters 
 stood. While Mrs. Arnot was perplexed and provoked 
 by this new complication in Haldane's case, she was toQ 
 kindly in her nature not to feel sorry for him. She was 
 also so well versed in human nature as to be aware that she 
 could not sit down and coolly talk him out of his folly. 
 
 Besides it was not necessarily folly. The youth was 
 but following a law of nature, and following it, too, in 
 much the same manner as had his fathers before him 
 since the beginning of time. There would not be any 
 thing essentially wrong in an attachment between these 
 young people, if it sprang up naturally ; only it would be 
 necessary to impress upon them the fact that they were 
 yoiaigy and that for years to come their minds should be 
 largely occupied with other matters. Haldane certainly 
 would not have been her choice for Laura, but if a strong 
 attachment became the means of steadying him and of 
 inciting to the formation of a fine character, all might be 
 well in the end. She was morbidly anxious, however, 
 that her niece should not meet with any such disappoint- 
 ment in life as had fallen to her lot, and should the cur- 
 rent of the young girl's affection tend steadily in his 
 direcdon she would deeply regret the fact. 
 
 She would regret exceedingly, also, to have the young 
 girl's mind occupied by thoughts of such a nature for 
 years to come. Her education was unfinished ; she was 
 very immature, and should not make so important a 
 choice until she had seen much more of society, and time 
 had been given for the formation of her tastes and 
 character. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot soon concluded that it would be wiser to 
 prevent trouble than to remedy it, and that Laura had 
 better return speedily to the safe asylum of her own
 
 44 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEEN TH CENTURY. 
 
 home. She could tlien suggest to Haldane that if he 
 hoped to win the maiden in after years he must form a 
 character worthy of her. 
 
 Had she carried out her plan that day all might have 
 turned out differently, but the advanced in life are prone 
 to forget the impetuosity of youth. Haldane was already 
 ripe for a declaration, or, more properly, an explosion of 
 his pent-up feelings, and was only awaiting an opportu- 
 nity to insist upon his own acceptance. He was so pos- 
 sessed and absorbed by his emotions that he felt sure 
 they would sweep away all obstacles. He imagined 
 himself pleading his cause in a way that would melt a 
 marble heart ; and both vanity and hope had whispered 
 that Laura was a shy maiden, secretly responsive to his 
 passion, and only awaiting his frank avowal before show- 
 ing her own heart. Else why had she been so kind at 
 first? Having won his love, was she not seeking now to 
 goad him on to its utterance by a sudden change of 
 manner ? 
 
 Thus he reasoned, as have many others equally bhnd. 
 
 On becoming aware of Haldane' s passion, Mrs. Arnot 
 resolved to sedulously guard her niece, and prevent any 
 premature and disagreeable scenes. She was not long 
 in discovering that the feeling, as yet, was all on the 
 young man's side, and believed that by a little adroitness 
 she could manage the affair so that no harm would result 
 to either party. 
 
 But on the day following the one during which she had 
 arrived at the above conclusions she felt quite indisposed, 
 and while at dinner was obliged to succumb to one of her 
 nervous headaches. Before retiring to her priva^*" room 
 she directed the waitress to say to such of her > oung 
 friends as might call that she was too ill to see them. 
 
 Haldane's expressions of sympathy were hollow, in- 
 deed, for he hoped that, as a result of her indisposition, 
 he would have Laura all to himself that evening. With
 
 FASSIOX'S CLAMOR. 45 
 
 an insinuating smile he said to the young girl, after her 
 aunt had left the table, 
 
 " I shall expect you to be very agreeable this evening, 
 to compensate me for Mrs. Arnot's absence." 
 
 Laura blushed vividly, and was provoked with herself 
 that she did so, but she replied quietly, 
 
 "You must excuse me this evening, Mr. Haldane ; 
 I am sure my aunt will need me." 
 
 His smile was succeeded by a sudden frown ; but, as 
 Mr. Arnot was at the table, he said, with assumed care- 
 lessness, 
 
 "Then I will go out and try to find amusement else- 
 where." 
 
 "It might be well, young man," said Mr. Arnot au- 
 sterely, " to seek for something else than amusement. 
 When I was at your age I so invested my evenings that 
 they now tell in my business." 
 
 " I am willing to invest this evening in a way to make 
 it tell upon my future," replied Haldane, with a mean- 
 ing glance at Laura. 
 
 Mr. Arnot observed this glance and the blushing face 
 of his niece, and drew his own conclusions ; but he only 
 said dryly, 
 
 " That remark is about as inexphcable as some of your 
 performances at the office of late." 
 
 Laura soon after excused herself and sought a refuge 
 in her aunt's room, which, being darkened, prevented 
 the lady from seeing her burning cheeks and general air 
 of vexation and disquiet. Were it not for Mrs. Arnot's 
 suffering condition and need of rest, Laura would then 
 have told her of her trouble and asked permission to re- 
 turn home, and she determined to do this at the first op- 
 portunity. Now, however, she unselfishly forgot herself 
 in her effort to alleviate her aunt's distress. With a 
 strong sense of relief she heard Haldane go out, slam- 
 ming the front door after him.
 
 46 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 "Was there ever such an absurd fellow!" thought 
 she ; " he has made himself disagreeable ever since I 
 came, with his superior airs, as if he knew every thing, 
 when, in fact, he doesn't know any thing well, not even 
 good manners. He acts as if I belonged to him and had 
 no right to any will or wishes of my own. If he can't 
 take the hints that I have given he must be as stupid and 
 blind as an owl. In spite of all that I can do or say he 
 seems to think that I only want an opportunity to show 
 the same ridiculous feeling that makes him appear like a 
 simpleton. If I were a young lady in society I should 
 detest a man who took it for granted that I would fall in 
 love with him." 
 
 With hke indignant musings she beguiled the time, 
 wondering occasionally why her aunt did not ask her to 
 go down and entertain the object of her dread, but 
 secretly thankful that she did not. 
 
 At last Mrs. Arnot said : 
 
 " Mr. Haldane went out, did he not ? " 
 
 " Yes, auntie, some time ago." 
 
 " I left my other bottle of smelling-salts in the parlor. 
 I think it is stronger than this. Would you mind getting 
 it for me ? It's on the mantel." 
 
 Laura had no difficulty in finding it in the somewhat 
 dimly-lighted drawing-room, but as she turned to leave 
 the apartment she saw Haldane between her and the 
 door. 
 
 Before he had reached any of his garish haunts he had 
 felt such an utter distaste for them in his present mood 
 that he returned. He was conscious of the impulse 
 merely to be near the object of his thoughts, and also 
 hoped that by some fortunate chance he might still be 
 able to find her alone. That his return might be un- 
 noted, he had quietly entered a side door, and was wait- 
 ing and watching for just such an opportunity as Mrs. 
 Arnot had unwittingly occasioned.
 
 PASSION'S CLA3I0R. 47 
 
 Laura tried to brush past, but he intercepted her, and 
 said : 
 
 " No, Miss Laura, not till you hear me. You have 
 my destiny in your hands." 
 
 "I haven't any thing of the kind," she answered, in 
 tones of strong vexation. Guided by instinct, she re- 
 solved to be as prosaic and matter-of-fact as possible ; so 
 she added: "I have only aunt's smelling-salts in my 
 hands, and she needs them." 
 
 " I liQed you far more than Mrs. Arnot needs her smell- 
 ing-salts," he said tragically. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane, such talk is very absurd," she replied, 
 half ready to cry from nervousness and annoyance. 
 
 " It is not absurd. How can you trifle with the deep- 
 est and holiest feelings that a man — of which a man — 
 feels? " he retorted passionately, and growing a little in- 
 coherent. 
 
 "I don't know any thing about such feelings, and 
 therefore cannot trifle with them." 
 
 "What did your blushes mean this evening? You 
 cannot deceive me ; I have seen the world and know it." 
 
 " I am not the world. I am only a school-girl, and if 
 you had good sense you would not talk so to me. You 
 appear to think that I must feel and do as you wish. 
 What right have you to act so ? " 
 
 "The truest and strongest right. You know well that 
 I love you with my whole soul. I have given you my 
 heart — all there is of me. Have I not a right to ask 
 your love in return ? " 
 
 Laura was conscious of a strange thrill as she heard 
 these passionate words, for they appeared to echo in a 
 depth of her nature of which she had not been con- 
 scious before. 
 
 The strong and undoubting assurance which possessed 
 him carried for a moment a strange mastery over her 
 mind. As he so vehemently asserted the only claim
 
 48 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 which a man can urge, her woman's soul trembled, and 
 for a moment she felt almost powerless to resist. His 
 unreserved giving appeared to require that he should re- 
 ceive also. She would have soon realized, however, 
 that Haldane's attitude was essentially that of an Ori- 
 ental lover, who, in his strongest attachments, is ever 
 prone to maintain the imperative mood, and to consult 
 his own heart rather than that of the woman he loves. 
 While in Laura's nature, there was unusual gentleness 
 and a tendency to respect and admire virile force, she 
 was too highly bred in our Western civilization not to re- 
 sent as an insult any such manifestation of this force as 
 would make the quest of her love a demand rather than 
 a suit, after once recognizing such a spirit. She was 
 now confused however, and after an awkward moment 
 said, 
 
 " I have not asked or wished you to give me so much. 
 I don't think you reahze what you are saying. If you 
 would only remember that I am scarcely more than a 
 child you would not talk so foohshly. Please let me go 
 to my aunt." 
 
 " No, not till you give me some hope. Your blushes 
 prove that you are a woman." 
 
 "They prove that I am excessively annoyed and 
 vexed," 
 
 " O, Laura, after raising so many hopes you cannot — 
 you cannot — " 
 
 " I haven't meant to raise any hopes." 
 
 " Why were you so kind to me at first ? " 
 
 "Well, if you must know, my aunt wished me to be. 
 If I had dreamed you would act so I would not have 
 spoken to you." 
 
 " What motive could Mrs. Arnot have had for such a 
 request?" 
 
 " I will tell you, and when you know the whole truth 
 you will see how mistaken you are, and how greatly you
 
 PASSION'S CLAMOR. 49 
 
 wrong me. Aunt wanted me to help her keep you home 
 €venings, and away from all sorts of horrid places to 
 which you were fond of going." 
 
 These words gave Haldane a cue which he at once 
 followed, and he said eagerly : 
 
 " If you will be my wife, I will do any thing you wish. 
 I will make myself good, great, and renowned for your 
 sake. Your smiles will keep me from every temptation. 
 But I warn you that if you cast me off — if you trifle with 
 me — I shall become a reckless man. I shall be ruined. 
 My only impulse will be self-destruction." 
 
 Laura was now thoroughly incensed, and she said 
 indignantly : 
 
 " Mr. Haldane, I should think you would be ashamed 
 to talk in that manner. It's the same as if a spoiled boy 
 should say : If you don't give me what I wish, right or 
 wrong, I will do something dreadful. If I ever do love 
 a man, it will be one that I can look up to and respect, 
 and not one who must be coaxed and bribed to give up 
 ■disgusting vices. If you do not open that door I will call 
 uncle." 
 
 The door opened, and Mr. Arnot entered with a heavy 
 frown upon his brow.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "GLOOMY GRANDEUR." 
 
 Mr. Arnot's library was on the side of the hall oppo- 
 site to the drawing-room. Though he had been deeply- 
 intent upon his writing, he at last became conscious that 
 there were some persons in the parlor who were talking 
 in an unusual manner, and he soon distinguished the 
 voice of his niece. Haldane's words, manner, and 
 glances at the dinner table at once recurred to him, and 
 stepping silently to the drawing-room door, he heard the 
 latter part of the colloquy narrated in the previous chap- 
 ter. He was both amused and angry, and while relieved 
 to find that his niece was indulging in no " sentimental 
 nonsense," he had not a particle of sympathy or charity 
 for Haldane, and he determined to give the young mar» 
 a "lesson that would not soon be forgotten." 
 
 "What is the meaning of this ridiculous scene?" he 
 demanded sternly. "What have you been saying to 
 this child?" 
 
 Haldane at first had been much abashed by the en- 
 trance of his employer ; but his tone and manner stung 
 the young fellow into instant anger, and he replied 
 haughtily : 
 
 "She is not a child, and what I have said concerns 
 Miss Romeyn only." 
 
 "Ah ! indeed ! I have no right to protect my niece in 
 my own house ! " 
 
 " My intentions toward Miss Romeyn are entirely hon- 
 orable, and there is no occasion for protection." 
 
 Reassured by h^r uncle's presence, Laura's nervous 
 60
 
 ''GL003IY GRANDEUR.'' 51 
 
 apprehension began to give place to something like pity 
 for the youth, who had assumed an attitude befitting 
 high tragedy, and toward whom she felt that she had 
 been a little harsh. Now that he was confronted by one 
 who was disposed to be still more harsh, womanlike, she 
 was inclined to take his part. She would be sorry to 
 have him come to an open rupture with his employer on 
 her account, so she said eagerly, 
 
 " Please, uncle, do me the favor of letdng the whole 
 matter drop. Mr. Haldane has seen his mistake by this 
 time. I am going home to-morrow, and the affair is too 
 absurd to make any one any more trouble." 
 
 Before he could answer, Mrs. Arnot, hearing their 
 voices, and surmising the trouble which she had hoped 
 to prevent, now appeared also, and by her good sense 
 and tact brought the disagreeable scene to a speedy close. 
 
 "Laura, my dear," she said quietly, "go up to my 
 room, and I will join you there soon." The young girl 
 gladly obeyed. 
 
 There were times when Mrs. Arnot controlled her 
 strong-willed husband in a manner that seemed scarcely 
 to be reconciled with his dictatorial habits. This fact 
 might be explained in part by her wealth, of which he 
 had the use, but which she still controlled, but more truly 
 by her innate superiority, which ever gives supremacy to 
 the nobler and stronger mind when aroused. 
 
 Mr. Arnot had become suddenly and vindictively 
 angry with his clerk, who, instead of being overwhelmed 
 with awe and shame at his unexpected appearance, was 
 haughty and even defiant. One of the strongest im- 
 pulses of this man was to crush out of those in his employ 
 3. spirit of independence and individual self-assertion. 
 The idea of a part of his business machinery making 
 such a jarring tumult in his own house ! He proposed 
 to instantly cast away the cause of friction, and insert a 
 more stolid human cog-wheel in Haldane's place.
 
 52 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 But when his wife said, in a tone which she rarely 
 used, 
 
 " Mr. Arnot, before any thing further is said upon this 
 matter, I would like to see you in your library " — he fol- 
 lowed her without a word. 
 
 Before the library door closed, however, he could not 
 forbear snarling, 
 
 " I told you that your having this big spoiled boy as 
 an inmate of the house would not work well." 
 
 " He has been offering himself to Laura, has he not? " 
 she said quietly. 
 
 " I suppose that is the way in which you would ex- 
 plain his absurd, maudhn w ords. A pitiful offer it was, 
 which she, hke a sensible girl, declined without thanks." 
 
 "What course do you propose to take toward Hal- 
 dane? " 
 
 " I was on the point of sending him home to his mother^ 
 and of suggesting that he remain with her till he becomes 
 something more than a fast, foolish boy. As yet I see no 
 reason for acting differently." 
 
 " On just what grounds do you propose to discharge 
 him ? " 
 
 " Has he not given sufficient cause this evening in his 
 persecution of Laura and his impudence to me ? " 
 
 " Thomas, you forget that while young Haldane is 
 your clerk, he enjoys a social position quite equal to that 
 which a son of ours would possess, did we have one. 
 Though his course toward Laura has been crude and 
 boyish, I have yet to learn that there has been any thing 
 dishonorable. Laura is to us a child ; to him she seems 
 a very pretty and attractive girl, and his sudden passion 
 for her is, perhaps, one of the most natural things in the 
 world. Besides, an affair of this kind should be managed 
 quietly and wisely, and not with answering passion. You 
 are angry now ; you will see that I am right in the morn- 
 ing. At all events, the name of this innocent girl, my
 
 ''GLOOMY GRANDEUR.'' 53 
 
 sister's child, must not be bandied about in the gossip 
 of the town. Among young men Haldane passes for a 
 young man. Do you wish to have it the town talk that 
 he has been discharged because he ventured to compli- 
 ment your niece with the offer of his hand ? That he has 
 been premature and rash is chiefly the fault of his years 
 and temperament ; but no serious trouble need follow 
 unless we make it ourselves. Laura will return home in 
 a day or two, and if the young fellow is dealt with wisely 
 and kindly, this episode may do much toward making a 
 sensible man of him. If you abruptly discharge him, 
 people will imagine tenfold more than has occurred, and 
 they may surmise positive evil." 
 
 " Well, well, have it your own way," said her husband 
 impatiently. " Of course, I do not wish that Laura should 
 become the theme of scandal. But as for this young fire- 
 brand of a Haldane, there must be a decided change in 
 him. I cannot bother with him much longer." 
 
 " I think I can manage him. At any rate, please make 
 no change that can seem connected with this affair. If 
 you would also exercise a little kindness and forbearance, 
 I do not think you would ever have cause to regret it." 
 
 '•My office is not an asylum for incapables, love- 
 sick swains, and fast boys. It's a place of business, and 
 if young Haldane can't realize this, there are plenty who 
 can." 
 
 "As a favor to me, I will ask you to bear with him as. 
 long as possible. Can you not send him to your factory 
 near New York on some errand ? New scenes will divert 
 his thoughts, and sudden and acute attacks, like his, 
 usually do not last very long." 
 
 "Well, well, I'll see." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot returned to the parlor, but Haldane was no 
 longer there. She went to his room, but, though he was 
 within, she could obtain no response to her knocking, or 
 to the kind tone in which she spoke his name. She
 
 54 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 sighed, but thought that perhaps he would be calmer and 
 more open to reason on the morrow, and, therefore, re- 
 turned to her own apartment. Indeed, she was glad to 
 do so, for in her ill and suffering condition the strain had 
 already been too great. 
 
 She found Laura tearful and troubled, and could not do 
 less than listen to her story. 
 
 " Do you think I have done any thing wrong, auntie ?" 
 asked the girl in deep anxiety. 
 
 "No, dear, I think you have acted very sensibly. I 
 wish I could have foreseen the trouble sooner, and saved 
 you both from a disagreeable experience." 
 
 " But uncle won't discharge Mr. Haldane on my ac- 
 count, will he ? " she continued with almost equal solici- 
 tude. 
 
 " Certainly not. Egbert has not done any thing that 
 should cause his dismissal. I think that the only result 
 will be to teach you both that these are matters which 
 should be left to future years." 
 
 " I'm glad they are distant, for I had no idea that love 
 affairs were so intensely disagreeable." 
 
 Her aunt smiled, and after a httle time the young girl 
 departed to her rest quite comforted and reassured. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Arnot was too ill to appear at 
 breakfast, and her niece would not venture down alone. 
 Haldane and his employer sat down together in grim 
 silence, and, after a cup of coffee only, the former abruptly 
 excused himself and went to the office. 
 
 As might have been expected, the young man had 
 passed a restless night, during which all sorts of rash, 
 wild purposes surged through his mind. At first he 
 meditated hiding his grief and humiliation in some "far 
 distant clime ; " but the thought occurred to him after a 
 little time that this would be spiting himself more than 
 any one else. His next impulse was to leave the house 
 of his " insulting employer " forever ; but as he was about
 
 ''GLOOMY grandeur:' 5& 
 
 to depart, he remembered that he happened to have 
 scarcely a dollar in his pocket, and therefore concluded 
 to wait till he had drawn his pay, or could write to his 
 mother for funds. Then, as his anger subsided, a sense 
 of loss and disappointment overwhelmed him, and for a 
 long time he sobbed like a broken-hearted child. After 
 this natural expression of grief he felt better, and became 
 able to think connectedly. He finally resolved that he 
 would become "famous," and rise in "gloomy grand- 
 eur " till he towered far above his fellow men. He would 
 pierce this obdurate maiden's heart with poignant but 
 unavailing regret that she had missed the one great 
 opportunity of her life. He gave but slight and vague 
 consideration to the methods by which he would achieve 
 the renown which would overshadow Laura's life ; but, 
 having resolutely adopted the purpose with a few tragic 
 gestures and some obscure fragmentary utterances, he felt 
 consoled and was able to obtain a little sleep. 
 
 The routine duties at the office on the following day did 
 not promise very much, but he went through them in a 
 kind of grim, vindictive manner, as if resolving to set his 
 foot on all obstacles. He would " suffer in silence and 
 give no sign " till the hour came when he could flash out 
 upon the world. But as the day declined, he found the 
 role of " gloomy grandeur" rather heavy, and he became 
 conscious of the fact that he had scarcely eaten any thing 
 for nearly twenty-four hours. Another impulse began to 
 make itself felt — that of fulfilling his threat and torturing 
 Miss Romeyn by going to ruin. With alluring seductive- 
 ness the thought insinuated itself into his mind that one 
 of the first steps in the tragedy might be a game and 
 wine supper, and his growing hunger made this mode of 
 revenge more attractive than cold and austere ambition. 
 
 But Laura's words concerning "disgusting vices" re- 
 curred to him with all and more than their first stinging 
 plainness, and he put the impulse away with a gesture
 
 66 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and tragic expression of face that struck a sere and with- 
 ered book-keeper, who happened at that moment to look 
 up, as so queer that he feared the young man was be- 
 coming demented. 
 
 Haldane concluded — and with some reason in view of 
 Laura's romantic nature — that only a career of gloomy 
 grandeur and high renown would impress the maiden 
 whom yesterday he proposed to make happy forever, 
 but to-day to blight with regret hke a " worm i' the 
 bud." He already had a vague presentiment that such 
 a role would often mortify his tastes and inclinations most 
 dismally ; and yet, what had he henceforth to do with 
 pleasure ? But if, after he had practiced the austerity of 
 an anchorite, she should forget him, marry another, 
 and be happy ! the thought was excruciating. O, that 
 awful "another"! He is the fiend that drags disap- 
 pointed lovers down to the lowest depth of their tortures. 
 If Laura had had a previous favorite, Haldane would 
 have been most happy to have her meet " another " in 
 himself ; but now this vague but surely coming rival of 
 the future sent alternately cold chills and molten fire 
 through his veins. 
 
 He was awakened from such painful reveries by a 
 summons to his employer's private office.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 
 
 Mr. Arnot in his widely extended business owned 
 several factories, and in the vicinity of one, located at a 
 suburb of New York, there were no banking facilities. 
 It was, therefore, his custom at stated times to draw from 
 his bank at Hillaton such amounts in currency as were 
 needed to pay those in his employ at the place indicated, 
 and send the money thither by one of his clerks. Upon 
 the present occasion, in compliance with his wife's re- 
 quest, he decided to send Haldane. He had no hesita- 
 tion in doing this, as the errand was one that required 
 nothing more than honesty and a little prudence. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane," said his employer, in tones somewhat 
 less cold and formal than those habitual with him, "we 
 will let bygones be bygones. I am inclined to think that 
 hereafter you will be disposed to give your thoughts more 
 fully to business, as a man should who proposes to 
 amount to any thing in the world. In these envelopes 
 are one thousand dollars in currency. I wish you to 
 place them securely in your breast-pockets, and take the 
 five-thirty train to New York, and from thence early to- 
 morrow go out on the Long Island road to a little station 
 called Arnotville, and give these packages to Mr. Black, 
 the agent in charge of my factory there. Take his re- 
 ceipt, and report to me to-morrow evening. With that 
 amount of money upon your person you will perceive the 
 necessity of prudence and care. Here is a check paying 
 your salary for the past month. The cashier will give 
 you currency for it. Report your expenses on your re- 
 turn, and they will be paid. As the time is limited, per- 
 haps you can get some lunch at or near the depot." 
 57
 
 58 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 "I prefer to do so," said Haldane, promptly, "and 
 will try to perform the business to your satisfaction." 
 
 Mr. Arnot nodded a cool dismissal, and Haldane 
 started for a hotel-restaurant near the depot with a step 
 entirely too quick and elastic for one who must walk 
 henceforth in the shadow of " bitter memories and dark 
 disappointment." The exercise brought color to his 
 cheek, and there certainly was a sparkle in his dark 
 eyes. It could not be hope, for he had assured himself 
 again and again that " hope was dead in his heart." It 
 might have been caused after his long fast by the antici- 
 pation of a lunch at the depot and a petit soiiper in the 
 city, and the thought of washing both down with a glass 
 of wine, or possibly with several. The relish and com- 
 placency with which his mind dwelt on this prospect 
 struck Haldane as rather incongruous in a being as 
 blighted as he supposed himself to be. With his youth, 
 health, and unusually good digestion he would find no 
 little difficulty in carrying out the " gloomy grandeur " 
 scheme, and he began to grow conscious of the fact. 
 
 Indeed, in response to a law of nature, he was already 
 inchned to react from his unwonted depression into reck- 
 less hilarity. Impulse and inclination were his control- 
 ling forces, and he was accustomed to give himself up to 
 them without much effort at self-restraint. And yet he 
 sought to imagine himself consistent, so that he could 
 maintain his self-approval. 
 
 " I will hide my despair with laughter," he muttered ; 
 "the world cannot know that it is hollow, and but a 
 mask against its vulgar curiosity." 
 
 A good cold lunch and a cup of coffee — which he 
 could have obtained at once at the hotel near the depot 
 — would not answer for this victim of despair. Some ex- 
 "tra delicacies, which required time for preparation, were 
 ordered. In the meantime he went to the bar for an 
 ^' appetizer," as he termed it. Here he met an acquaint-
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 59 
 
 ance among the loungers present, and, of course, asked 
 him to take a social glass also. This personage comphed 
 in a manner peculiarly felicitous, and in such a way as 
 to give the impression that his acceptance of the courtesy 
 was a compliment to Haldane. Much practice had 
 made him perfect in this art, and the number of drinks 
 that he was able to secure gratis in the course of a year 
 by being always on hand and by maintaining an air ct 
 slight superiority, combined with an appearance of ton- 
 homie and readiness to be social, would have made a re- 
 markable sum total. 
 
 Before their glasses clinked together he said, with the 
 off-handed courtesy indigenous to bar-rooms, where ac- 
 quaintances are made with so little trouble and ceremony : 
 
 " Mr. Haldane, my friends from New York, Mr. Van 
 Wink and Mr. Ketchem." 
 
 Haldane turned and saw two young men standing con- 
 veniently near, who were dressed faultlessly in the style 
 of the day. There was nothing in their appearance to 
 indicate that they did not reside on Fifth Avenue, and, in- 
 deed, they may have had rooms on that fashionable street. 
 
 Messrs. Van Wink and Ketchem had also a certain air 
 of superiority, and they shook hands with Haldane in a 
 way that implied, 
 
 " W^hile we are metropoHtan men, we recognize in you 
 an extraordinarily fine specimen of the provincial." And 
 the young man was not indifferent to their unspoken flat- 
 tery. He at once invited them also to state to the smirk- 
 ing bar-tender their preferences among the liquid com- 
 pounds before them, and soon four glasses clinked to- 
 gether. 
 
 With fine and thoughtful courtesy they had chosen the- 
 same mixture that he had ordered for himself, and surely 
 some of the milk of human kindness must have been in- 
 fused in the punches which they imbibed, for Messrs. 
 Van Wink and Ketchem seemed to grow very friendly
 
 60 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 toward Haldane. Perhaps taking a drink with a man 
 inspired these worthies with a regard for him similar to 
 that which the social eating of bread creates within the 
 breasts of Bedouins, who, as travelers assert, will protect 
 with their lives a stranger that has sat at their board ; 
 but rob and murder, as a matter of course, all who have 
 not enjoyed that distinction. Whatever may have been 
 the cause, the styhsh men from the city were evidently 
 pleased with Haldane, and they dehcately suggested that 
 he was such an unusually clever fellow that they were 
 wiUing to know him better. 
 
 "I assure you, Mr. Haldane," protested Mr. Van 
 Wink, "our meeting is an unexpected pleasure. Hav- 
 ing completed our business in town, time was hanging 
 heavily on our hands, and it is still a full half-hour be- 
 fore the train leaves." 
 
 "Let us drink again to further acquaintance," said 
 Mr. Ketchem cordially, evincing a decided disposition to 
 be friendly ; " Mr. Haldane is in New York occasionally, 
 and we would be glad to meet him and help him pass a 
 pleasant hour there, as he is enlivening the present hour 
 for us." 
 
 Haldane was not cautious by nature, and had been 
 predisposed by training to regard all flattering attention 
 and interest as due to the favorable impression which he 
 supposed himself to make invariably upon those whose 
 judgment was worth any thing. It is true there had been 
 one marked and humiliating exception. But the consol- 
 ing thought now flashed into his mind that, perhaps. Miss 
 Romeyn was, as she asserted, but a mere " child," and 
 incapable, of appreciating him. The influence of the 
 punch he had drank and the immediate and friendly in- 
 terest manifested by these gentlemen who knew the 
 world, gave a plausible coloring to this explanation of 
 her conduct. After all, was he not judging her too 
 harshly ? She had not realized whom she had refused,
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 61 
 
 and when she grew up in mind as well as in form she 
 might be glad to act very differently. " But I may 
 choose to act differently also," was his haughty mental 
 conclusion. 
 
 This self-communion took place while the still smirking 
 bar-tender was mixing the decoctions ordered by the 
 cordial and generous Mr. Ketchem. A moment later 
 four glasses clinked together, and Haldane's first ac- 
 quaintance — the young man with the air of slight but 
 urbane superiority — felicitated himself that he had ' ' made 
 two free drinks" within a brief space of time. 
 
 The effect of the hquor upon Haldane after his long 
 fast was far greater than if it had been taken after a 
 hearty meal, and he began to reciprocate the friendliness 
 of the strangers w^ith increasing interest. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, " our meeting is one of those 
 fortunate incidents which promise much more pleasure to 
 come. I have ordered a httle lunch in the dining-room. 
 It will take but a moment for the waiters to add enough 
 for three more, and then we will ride into the city to- 
 gether, for my business takes me there this evening also." 
 
 "1 declare," exclaimed Mr. Van Wink in a tone of 
 self-gratulation, " were I piously inclined I should be 
 tempted to call our meeting quite providential. But if 
 we lunch with you it must be on condition that you take 
 a little supper with us at the Brunswick after we arrive 
 in town." 
 
 " No one could object to such agreeable terms," cried 
 Haldane; "come, let us adjourn to the dining-room. 
 By the way, Mr. Bar-tender, send us a bottle of your 
 best claret." 
 
 The young man who an hour before had regarded 
 himself as cruelly blighted for life, was quite successful 
 in " hiding his despair with laughter." Indeed, from its 
 loudness and frequency, undue exhilaration was sug- 
 gested rather than a "secret sorrow." It gave him a
 
 ^2 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 fine sense of power and of his manly estate to see the 
 waiters busthng around at his bidding, and to remember 
 that he was the host of tliree gentlemen, who, while very 
 superior in style, and evidently possessed of wealth, still 
 recognized in him an equal with whom they were glad to 
 spend a social hour. 
 
 Scarcely ever before had he met any one who appre- 
 ciated him as fully as did Messrs. Van Wink and 
 Ketchem, and their courteous deference confirmed a 
 view which he had long held, that only in the large 
 sphere of the metropolis could he find his true level and 
 most congenial companionships. These young men had 
 a style about them which provincials could not imitate. 
 £ven the superior gentleman who introduced them to 
 him had a slightly dimmed and tarnished appearance as 
 lie sat beside his friends. There was an immaculate 
 finish and newness about all their appoifitments — not a 
 speck upon their linen, nor a grain of dust upon their 
 broadcloth and polished boots. If the theory be true 
 that character is shown in dress, these men, outwardly 
 so spotless, must be worthy of the confidence with which 
 they had inspired their new acquaintance. They sug- 
 gested two bright coins just struck from the mint, and 
 "They have the ring of true metal," thought Haldane. 
 
 It seemed to the young men that they had just fairly 
 commenced to enjoy their lunch, when a prolonged 
 shriek of a locomotive, dying away in the distance, awak- 
 ened them to a sense of the flight of time. Hastily pull- 
 ing out his watch, Haldane exclaimed with an oath, 
 
 " There goes our train." 
 
 Messrs. Van Wink and Ketchem were apparently 
 much concerned. 
 
 " Haldane," they exclaimed, "you are much too en- 
 tertaining a fellow for one to meet when there's a train 
 to be caught." 
 
 "This is a serious matter for me," said Haldane, some-
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 63 
 
 •what sobered by the thought of Mr. Arnot's wrath ; " I 
 had important business in town." 
 
 "Can it not be arranged by telegraph?" asked Mr. 
 Van Wink in a tone of kindly solicitude. 
 
 "One can't send money by telegraph. No; I must 
 go myself." 
 
 The eyes of Haldane's three guests met for a second 
 in a way that indicated the confirmation of something in 
 their minds, and yet so evanescent was this glance of in- 
 telligence that a cool, close observer would scarcely have 
 detected it, much less their flushed and excited host. 
 
 " Don't worry, Haldane," said his first acquaintance ; 
 ^' there is an owl-train along at eleven to-night, and you 
 can mail your check or draft on that if you do not care 
 to travel at such an unearthly hour." 
 
 " O, there is a late train! " cried the young man, 
 much relieved. "Then I'm all right, I am obliged to 
 go myself, as the funds I carry are in such a shape that 
 I cannot mail them." 
 
 Again the eyes of his guests met with a furtive gleam 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 Now that Haldane felt himself safely out of his dilemma, 
 he began to be solicitous about his companions. 
 
 " I fear," he said, " that my poor courtesy can make 
 but small amends for the loss of your train." 
 
 "Well, Haldane," said I\Ir. Ketchem, with great ap- 
 parent candor, " I speak for myself when I say that I 
 would regret losing this train under most circumstances, 
 but with the prospect of a social evening together I can 
 scarcely say that I do." 
 
 "I, too," cried Mr. Van Wink, "am inclined to re- 
 gard our loss of the train as a happy freak of fortune. 
 Let us take the owl-train, also, Ketchem, and make a 
 jovial night of it with Mr. Haldane." 
 
 " Fill up your glasses, and we'll drink to a jolly 
 night," cried Haldane, and all complied with wonderful
 
 64 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 zest and unanimity. The host, however, was too excited 
 and preoccupied to note that while Mr. Van Wink and 
 Mr. Ketchem were always ready to have their glasses 
 filled, they never drained them very low ; and thus it 
 happened that he and the slightly superior gentleman 
 who made free drinks one of the chief objects of exist- 
 ence shared most of the bottle of wine between them. 
 
 As the young men rose from the lunch table Haldane 
 called this individual aside, and said : 
 
 " Harker, I want you to help a fellow out of a scrape. 
 You must know that I was expected to leave town on the 
 five-thirty train. I do not care to be seen in the public 
 rooms, for old cast-iron Arnot might make a row about 
 my delay, even though it will make no difference in his 
 business. Please engage a private room, where we can 
 have a bottle of wine and a quiet game of cards, and no 
 one be the wiser." 
 
 " Certainly — nothing easier in the world — 1 know just 
 the room — cozy — off one side — wait a moment, gentle- 
 men." 
 
 It seemed but a moment before he returned and led 
 them, preceded by a bell-boy, to just such an apartment 
 as he had described. Though the evening was mild, a 
 fire was lighted in the grate, and as it kindled it com- 
 bined with the other appointments to give the apartment 
 an air of luxurious comfort. 
 
 "Bring us a bottle of sherry," said Haldane to the 
 bell-boy. 
 
 "Also a pack of cards, some fine old brandy and 
 cigars, and charge to me," said Mr. Ketchem ; " I wish 
 to have my part in this entertainment. Come, Harker, 
 take a seat." 
 
 " Desperately sorry I can't spend the evening with 
 you," said this sagacious personage, who realized with 
 extreme regret that not even for the prospect of unlimited 
 free potations could he afford to risk the loss of his emi-
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 65 
 
 nent respectability, which he regarded as a capitalist 
 does his principal, something that must be drawn upon 
 charily. Mr. Harker knew that his mission was ended, 
 and, in spite of the order for the sherry and brandy, he 
 had sufficient strength of mind to retire. In delicate 
 business transactions like the one under consideration he 
 made it a point to have another engagement when mat- 
 ters got about as far along as they now were in Hal- 
 dane's case. If any thing unpleasant occurred between 
 parties whom he introduced to each other, and he was 
 summoned as a witness, he grew so exceedingly dignified 
 and superior in his bearing that every one felt Hke ask- 
 ing his pardon for their suspicions. He always proved 
 an aiibi, and left the court room with the air of an injured 
 man. As people, however, became familiar with his 
 haunts and habits, there was an increasing number who 
 regarded his virtuous assumptions and professions of 
 ignorance in respect to certain cases of swindling with 
 incredulous smiles. 
 
 Mr. Harker, however, could not tear himself away till 
 the brandy and sherry appeared, and, after paying his 
 respects to both, went to keep his engagement, which 
 consisted in lounging about another hotel on the other 
 side of the depot. 
 
 Messrs. Van Wink and Ketchem, of course, both 
 knew how to deal the cards, and with apologetic 
 laughter the young men put up small stakes at first, just 
 to give zest to the amusement. Haldane lost the first 
 game, won the second and third, lost again, had streaks 
 of good and bad luck so skillfully intermingled that the 
 thought often occurred to him, 
 
 " These fellows play as fair a game as I ever saw and 
 know how to win and lose money like gentlemen." 
 
 But these high-toned "gentlemen" always managed 
 to keep the bottle of sherry near him, and when they lost 
 they would good-naturedly and hilariously propose that
 
 66 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 they take a drink. Haldane always complied, but while 
 he drank they only sipped. 
 
 As the evening waned the excitement of the infatuated 
 youth deepened. The heat of the room and the fumes of 
 tobacco combined with the liquor to unman him and in- 
 tensify the natural recklessness of his character. 
 
 There is, probably, no abnormal passion that so com- 
 pletely masters its victims as that for gambling ; and as 
 Haldane won, lost, and won again, he became so ab- 
 sorbed as to be unconscious of the flight of time and all 
 things else. But as he lost self-control, as he half-un- 
 consciously put his glass to his lips with increasing 
 frequency, his companions grew cooler and more wary. 
 Their eyes no longer beamed good-naturedly upon their 
 victim, but began to emit the eager, cruel gleams of 
 some bird of prey. 
 
 But they still managed the affair with consummate 
 skill. Their aim was to excite Haldane to the last de- 
 gree of recklessness, and yet keep him sufficiently sober 
 for further playing. From Harker they had learned that 
 Mr. Arnot had probably sent him in the place of the 
 clerk usually employed ; and, if so, it was quite certain 
 that he had a large sum of money upon his person. 
 Haldane' s words on becoming aware that he had missed 
 his train confirmed their surmises, and it was now their ob- 
 ject to beguile him into a condition which would make him 
 capable of risking his employer's funds. They also wished 
 that he should remain sufficiently sober to be responsible 
 for this act, and to remember, as he recalled the circum- 
 stances, that it was his own act. Therefore they kept 
 the brandy beyond his reach ; that was not yet needed. 
 
 By the time the evening was half over, Haldane found 
 that, although he had apparently won considerable 
 money, he had lost more, and that not a penny of his 
 own funds remained. With an angry oath he stated the 
 fact to his companions.
 
 BIRDS OF PREY. 67 
 
 "That's unfortunate," said Mr. Ketchem, sympa- 
 thetically. "There are nearly two hours yet before the 
 train leaves, and with your disposition toward good luck 
 to-night you could clean us out by that time, and would 
 have to lend us enough to pay our fares to New York." 
 
 " It's a pity to give up our sport now that we have just 
 got warmed up to it," added Mr. Van Wink, suggest- 
 ively. " Haven't you some funds about you that you 
 can borrow for the evening — ^just enough to keep the 
 game going, you know? " 
 
 Haldane hesitated. He was not so far gone but that 
 conscience entered an emphatic protest. The trouble 
 was, however, that he had never formed the habit of 
 obeying conscience, even when perfectly sober. Another 
 influence of the past also proved most disastrous. His 
 mother's weakness now made him weak. In permitting 
 him to take her money without asking, she had under- 
 mined the instinct of integrity which in this giddy mo- 
 ment of temptation might have saved him. If he from 
 childhood had been taught that the property of others 
 was sacred, the very gravity of the crime to which he 
 now was urged would have sobered and awakened him 
 to his danger. But his sense of wrong in this had been 
 blunted, and there was no very strong repugnance to^ 
 ward the suggestion. 
 
 Moreover, his brain was confused and excited to the 
 last degree possible in one who still continued sane and 
 responsible. Indeed, it would be difficult to say how fai 
 he was responsible at this supreme moment of danger. 
 He certainly had drank so much as to be unable to real, 
 ize the consequences of his action. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, like one who feebly tries 
 to brace himself in a swift torrent, the gambler's passion 
 surged up against and over his feeble will — then swept 
 him down.
 
 'CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THEIR VICTIM. 
 
 Haldane drew an envelope from his breast-pocket, 
 and laid it on the table, saying with a reckless laugh, 
 
 " Well, well, as you say, there is no great harm in 
 borrowing a little of this money, and returning it again 
 before the evening is over. The only question is how to 
 open this package, for if torn it may require explanations 
 that I do not care to make." 
 
 "We can easily manage that," laughed Ketchem ; 
 " put the package in your pocket a few moments," and 
 he rang the bell. 
 
 To the boy who appeared he said, "Bring us three 
 hot whisky punches — hot, remember ; steaming hot." 
 
 He soon reappeared with the punch, and the door was 
 locked again. 
 
 " Hold your package over the steam of your punch, 
 and the gum will dissolve so that you can open and close 
 it in a way that will defy detection." 
 
 The suggestion was speedily carried out. 
 
 " Now," continued Mr. Ketchem, " the punch having 
 already served so excellent a turn, we will finish it by 
 drinking to your good luck." 
 
 Haldane won the first two games. This success, to- 
 gether with the liquor, which was strong, almost wholly 
 dethroned his reason, and in his mad, drunken excite- 
 ment he began to stake large sums. The eyes of his 
 companions grew more wolfish than ever, and after a 
 significant flash toward each other, the gamblers turned 
 fortune against their victim finally. The brandy was 
 now placed within his reach, and under its influence
 
 THEIR VICTIM. 69 
 
 Haldane threw down money at random. The first pack- 
 age was soon emptied. He snatched the other from his 
 pocket and tore it open, but before its contents had hke- 
 \vise disappeared his head drooped upon his breast, and 
 he became insensible. 
 
 They watched him a moment, smiled grimly at each 
 other, drew a long breath of rehef, and, rising, stretched 
 themselves like men who had been under a strain that 
 had taxed them severely. 
 
 " Half an hour yet," said Mr. Van Wink ; " wish the 
 time was up." 
 
 " This is a heavy swag if we get off safely with it. I 
 say, Haldane, wake up." 
 
 But Haldane was sunk in the deepest stupor, 
 
 " I guess it's safe enough," said Van Wink answering 
 Ketchem's questioning eyes. 
 
 The latter thereupon completely emptied the remain- 
 ing package of money, and replaced the two empty 
 envelopes in Haldane's breast-pocket, and buttoned up 
 his coat. 
 
 With mutual glances of exultation at the largeness of 
 the sum, they swiftly divided the spoil between them. 
 It was agreed that after leaving the hotel they should 
 separate, that one should go to Boston, the other to 
 Baltimore, and that they should return to their old 
 haunts in New York after the interest caused by the af- 
 fair had died out. Then, lighting cigars, they coolly sat 
 down to wait for the train, having first opened a window 
 and placed Haldane where the fresh air would blow upon 
 him. 
 
 When the time of departure approached, IVIr. Van 
 Wink went to the bar and paid both their own and Hal- 
 dane's bill, saying that they would now vacate the room. 
 On his return Ketchem had so far aroused Haldane that 
 he was able to leave the house with their assistance, and 
 yet so intoxicated as to be incapable of thinking and act-
 
 70 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ing for liiniself. They took him clown a side street, now 
 utterly deserted, and left him on the steps of a low grog- 
 gery, from whence still issued the voices of some late 
 revelers. Five minutes later the " owl train " bore from 
 the town Messrs. Van Wink and Ketchem, who might be 
 called with a certain aptness birds of the night and of 
 prey. 
 
 Haldane remained upon the saloon steps, where he 
 had been left, blinking stupidly at a distant street lamp. 
 He had a vague impression that something was wrong — 
 that a misfortune of some kind had befallen him, but all 
 was confused and blurred. He would have soon gone 
 to sleep again had not the door opened, and a man 
 emerged, who exclaimed : 
 
 " Faix, an' who have we here, noddin' to himself as if 
 he knew more'n other folks? Are ye waitin' for some 
 un to ax ye within for a comfortin' dhrop ? " 
 
 " Take me 'ome," mumbled Haldane. 
 
 " Where's yer home ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Haldane's," answered the youth, thinking him- 
 self in his native town. 
 
 " By me sowl, if it isn't Boss Arnot's new clerk, 
 Sure's me name is Pat M'Cabe 'tis Misther Haldane. 
 I say, are ye sick? " 
 
 " Take me 'ome." 
 
 " Faix, I see," winking at two or three of his cronies 
 who had gathered at the open door ; " it's a disease I'm 
 taken wid meself at odd spells, though I takes moighty 
 good care to kape out o' the way of ould man Arnot 
 when I'm so afflicted. He has a quare way o' thinkin' 
 that ivery man about him can go as rigaler as if made in 
 a mash-shine shop, bad luck till 'im." 
 
 Perhaps all in Mr. Arnot's employ would have echoed 
 this sentiment, could the ill luck have blighted him with- 
 out reaching them. In working his ^;;/^/^j/<f^ as he did his 
 machinery, Mr. Arnot forgot that the latter was often.
 
 THEIR VICTIM. 7l 
 
 oiled, but that he entirely neglected to lubricate the wills 
 of the former with occasional expressions of kindness 
 and interest in their welfare. Thus it came to pass that 
 even down to poor Pat M'Cabe, man of all work around 
 the office building, all felt that their employer was a hard, 
 driving taskmaster, who ever looked beyond them and 
 their interests to what they accomplished for him. The 
 spirit of the master infused itself among the men, and the 
 tendency of each one to look out for himself without re- 
 gard to others was increased. If Pat had served a 
 kinder and more considerate man, he might have been 
 inclined to show greater consideration for the intoxicated 
 youth ; but Pat's favorite phrase, " Divil take the hind- 
 most," was but a fair expression of the spirit which ani- 
 mated his master, and the majority in his employ. 
 When, therefore, Haldane, in his thick, imperfect utter- 
 ance, again said, "Take me 'ome," Pat concluded 
 that it would be the best and safest course for himself. 
 Helping the young man to his. feet he said, 
 
 "Can ye walk? Mighty onstiddy on yer pins; but 
 I'm athinkin' I can get ye to the big house afore mornin". 
 Should I kape ye out o' the way till ye got sober, and 
 Quid man Arnot find it out, I'd be in the street meself 
 widout a job 'fore he ate his dinner. Stiddy now; lean 
 aginst me, and don't wabble yer legs so." 
 
 With like exhortations the elder and more wary disciple 
 of Bacchus disappeared with his charge in the gloom of 
 the night. 
 
 It chanced that the light burned late, on this evening, 
 in Mrs. Arnot' s parlor. The lady's indisposition had 
 confined her to her room and couch during the greater 
 part of the day ; but as the sun declined, the distress in 
 her head had gradually ceased, and she had found her 
 airy drawing-room a welcome change from the apart- 
 ment heavy with the odor of anaesthetics. Two students 
 from the university had aided in beguiling the early part
 
 72 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of the evening, and then Laura had commenced reading 
 iloud an interesting tale, which had suspended the con- 
 sciousness of time. But as the marble clock on the 
 mantel chimed out the hour of twelve, Mrs. Arnot rose 
 hastily from the sofa, exclaiming : 
 
 " What am I thinking of, to keep you up so late ! If 
 your mother knew that you were out of your bed she 
 would hesitate to trust you with me again." 
 
 " One more chapter, dear auntie, please? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, several more — to-morrow; but to bed 
 now, instanter. Come, kiss your remorseful aunt good 
 night. I'll remain here a while longer, for either your 
 foolish story or the after effects of my wretched headache 
 make me a trifle morbid and wakeful to-night. O, how 
 that bell startles me ! what can it mean so late ? " 
 
 The loud ring at the door remained unanswered a few 
 moments, for the servants had all retired. But the ap- 
 plicant without did not wait long before repeating the 
 summons still more emphatically. 
 
 Then they heard the library door open, and I\Ir. Ar- 
 not' s heavy step in the hall, as he went himself to learn 
 the nature of the untimely call. His wife's nervous ti- 
 midity vanished at once, and she stepped forward to join 
 her husband, while Laura stood looking out from the 
 parlor entrance with a pale and frightened face. " Can 
 it be bad news from home ? " she thought. 
 
 "Who is there?" demanded Mr. Arnot, sternly. 
 
 "Me and Misther Haldane," answered a voice with- 
 out in broadest brogue. 
 
 "Mr. Haldane!" exclaimed Mr. Arnot excitedly; 
 "what can this mean? W^ho is w^?" he next asked 
 loudly. 
 
 "Me is Pat M'Cabe, sure; the same as tidies up the 
 office and does yer irrinds. Mr. Haldane's had a bad 
 turn, and I've brought him home." 
 
 As Mr. Arnot swung open the door, a man, who s^em-
 
 THEIR VICTIM. 73 
 
 ingly bad been leaning against it, fell prone within the 
 hall. Laura gave a slight scream, and Mrs. Arnot was 
 much alarmed, thinking that Haldane was suffering from 
 some sudden and alarming attack. Thoughts of at once 
 telegraphing to his mother were entering her mind, when 
 the object of her solicitude tried to rise, and mumbled in 
 the thick utterance of intoxication, 
 
 " This isn't home. Take me to mother's." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's eyes turned questioningly to her husband, 
 and she saw that his face was dark with anger and dis- 
 gust. 
 
 " He is drunk," he said, turning to Pat, who stood in 
 the door, cap in hand. 
 
 " Faix, sur, it looks moighty loike it. But it's not for 
 a dacent sober man loike meself to spake sartainly o' 
 sich matters," 
 
 " Few words and to the point, sir," said Mr. Arnot 
 harshly ; " your breath tells where you have been. But 
 where did you find this — and how came you to find him?" 
 
 Either Mr. Arnot was at a loss for a term which would 
 express his estimation of the young man, who had slowly 
 and unsteadily risen, and was supporting himself by 
 holding fast the hat-rack, or he was restrained in his ut- 
 terance by the presence of his wife. 
 
 " Well sur," said Pat, with as ingenuous and candid 
 an air as if he were telling the truth, "the wife o' a 
 neighbor o' mine was taken on a suddint, and I went for 
 the docther, and as I was a comin' home, who shud I 
 see sittin' on a doorsthep but Misther Haldane, and I 
 thought it me duty to bring him home to yees." 
 
 " You have done right. Was it on the doorstep of a 
 drinking-place you found him? " 
 
 " I'm athinkin' it was, sur; it had that sort o' look." 
 
 Mr. Arnot turned to his wife and said coldly, "You 
 now see how it works. But this is not a fit object for 
 you and Laura to look upon ; so please retire. I will see
 
 74 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 that he gets safely to his room. I suppose he must go 
 there, though the station-house is the more proper place, 
 for him." 
 
 " He certainly must go to his own room," said Mrs. 
 Arnot firmly, but quietly. 
 
 "Well, then, steady him along up the stairs, Pat. I 
 will show you where to put the — " and Mr. Arnot again 
 seemed to hesitate for a term, but the blank was more 
 expressive of his contempt than any epithet could be, 
 since his tone and manner suggested the worst. 
 
 Returning to the parlor, Mrs. Arnot found Laura's face 
 expressive of the deepest alarm and distress. 
 
 "O auntie, what does all this mean? Am I in any 
 way to blame? He said he would go to ruin if I didn't 
 — but how could I ? " 
 
 " No, my dear, you are not in the slightest degree to 
 blame. Mr. Haldane seems both bad and foolish. I 
 feel to-night that he is not worthy to speak to you ; much 
 less is he fit to be intrusted with that which you will 
 eventually give, I hope, only to one who is pre-eminently 
 noble and good. Come with me to your room, my child. 
 I am very sorry I permitted you to stay up to-night." 
 
 But Laura was sleepless and deeply troubled : she had 
 never seen a laborer — much less one of her own ac- 
 quaintances — in Haldane's condition before ; and to her 
 young, innocent mind the event had almost the character 
 of a tragedy. Although conscious of entire blameless- 
 ness, she supposed that she was more directly the cause 
 of Haldane's behavior than was true, and that he was 
 carrying out his threat to destroy himself by reckless dis- 
 sipation. She did not know that he had been beguiled 
 into his miserable condition through bad habits of long 
 standing, and that he had fallen into the clutches of those 
 who always infest public haunts, and live by preying 
 upon the fast, foolish, and unwary. Haldane, from his 
 character and associations, was liable to such an ex-
 
 THEIR VICTIM. 75 
 
 perience whenever circumstances combined to make it 
 possible. Young men with no more principle than he 
 possessed are never safe from disaster, and they who 
 trust them trust rather to the chances of their not meet- 
 ing the pecuhar temptations and tests to which they 
 would prove unequal. Laura could not then know how 
 little she had to do with the tremendous downfall of her 
 premature lover. The same conditions given, he would 
 probably have met with the same experience upon any 
 occasion. After his first glass of punch the small degree 
 of discretion that he had learned thus far in life began to 
 desert him ; and every man as he becomes intoxicated is 
 first a fool, and then the victim of every one who chooses 
 to take advantage of his voluntary helplessness and deg- 
 radation. 
 
 But innocent Laura saw a romantic and tragic element 
 in the painful event, and she fell asleep with some vague 
 womanly thoughts about saving a fellow-creature by the 
 sacrifice of herself. However, the morning light, the 
 truth concerning Haldane, and her own good sense, 
 would banish such morbid fancies. Indeed the worst 
 possible way in which a young woman can set about re- 
 forming a bad man is to marry him. The usual result is 
 greatly increased guilt on the part of the husband, and 
 hfelong, hopeless wretchedness for the wife.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAT AND THE PRESS. 
 
 Pat having steadied and half carried Haldane to his 
 room, Mr. Arnot demanded of his clerk what had be- 
 come of the money intrusted to his care ; but his only 
 answer was a stupid, uncomprehending stare. 
 
 '• Hold his hands," said Mr. Arnot impatiently. 
 
 M'Cabe having obeyed, the man of business, whose 
 solicitude in the affair had no concern with the young 
 man's immeasurable loss, but related only to his own 
 money, immediately felt in Haldane's pockets for the en- 
 velopes which had contained the thousand dollars in cur- 
 rency. The envelopes were safe enough — one evidently 
 opened with the utmost care, and the other torn reck- 
 lessly — but the money was gone. 
 
 When Haldane saw the envelopes, there was a mo- 
 mentary expression of trouble and perplexity upon his 
 face, and he tried to speak ; but his thick utterance was 
 unintelligible. This gleam of intelligence passed quickly, 
 however, and the stupor of intoxication reasserted itself. 
 His heavy eyelids drooped, and Pat with difficulty could 
 keep him on his feet. 
 
 *' Toss him there on the lounge ; take off his muddy' 
 boots. Nothing further can be done while he is in this 
 beastly condition," said Mr. Arnot, in a voice that was 
 as harsh as the expression of his face. 
 
 The empty envelopes and Mr. Arnot' s dark looks sug- 
 gested a great deal to Pat, and he saw that one of his 
 "sprees" was an innocent matter compared with this 
 affair. 
 
 76
 
 FAT AND THE PRESS. 77 
 
 " Now, go down to my study and wait there for me." 
 
 Pat obeyed in a very steady and decorous manner, for 
 the matter was assuming such gravity as to sober hira 
 completely. 
 
 Mr. Arnot satisfied himself that there was no chance- 
 of escape from the windows, and then, after another look 
 of disgust and anger at Haldane, who was now sleeping 
 heavily, he took the key from the door, and locked it on 
 the outside. 
 
 Descending to his study, the irate gentleman next 
 wrote a note, and gave it to his porter, saying, 
 
 "Take that to the police head-quarters, and ask that 
 it be sent to the superintendent at once. No mistake, 
 now, as you value your place ; and mind not a word of 
 all this to any one." 
 
 " Faix, sir, I'll be as dumb as an eyster, and do yer 
 biddin' in a jiffy," said Pat, backing out of the room, and^ 
 glad to escape from one whose threatening aspect seemed 
 to forbode evil to any one within his reach. 
 
 " He looks black enough to murther the poor young 
 spalpeen," muttered the Irishman, as he hastened to do 
 his errand, remembering now with trepidation that, though 
 he had escaped from his master, the big, red-faced, 
 stout-armed wife of his bosom was still to be propitiated 
 after his late prowlings. 
 
 When he entered the main street, a light that glim- 
 mered from the top of a tall building suggested how he 
 might obtain that kind of oil which, cast upon the domes- 
 tic billows that so often raged in his fourth-floor back 
 room, was most effective in producing a little temporary 
 smoothness. 
 
 Since the weather was always fouler within his domes- 
 tic haven than without, and on this occasion threatened 
 to be at its worst, Pat at one time half decided not to run 
 into port at all ; but the glimmer of the light already 
 mentioned suggested another course.
 
 78 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Although the night was far spent, Pat still longed for a 
 " wink o' slape " before going to his work, and, in order 
 to enjoy it, knew that he must obtain the means of allay- 
 ing the storm, which was not merely brewing, but which, 
 from the lateness of the hour, had long been brewed. In 
 his own opinion, the greenness of his native isle had long 
 ago faded from his mental and moral complexion, and he 
 did not propose that any stray dollars, which by any 
 shrewdness or artifice could be diverted into his pocket, 
 should get by him. 
 
 Since his wife had developed into a huge, female di- 
 vinity, at whose shrine it seemed probable that he would 
 eventually become a human sacrifice, and whose wrath, 
 in the meantime, it was his daily task to appease, Pat 
 had gradually formed the habit of making a sort of com- 
 panion of himself. In accordance with his custom, there- 
 fore, he stopped under the high window from whence 
 gleamed the light, for the sake of a little personal coun- 
 sel. 
 
 " Now, Pat," he muttered, " if yees had gone home at 
 nine o'clock, yees wudn't be afeard to go home now ; 
 and if yees go home now widout a dollar more or less, 
 the ould 'ooman will make yer wish ees had set on the 
 curb-stone the rest o' the night. They sez some men has 
 no bowels o' marcies ; and after what I've seen the 
 night, and afore the night, too, I kin belave that Boss 
 Arnot's in'ards were cast at the same foundry where he 
 gets his mash-shines. Ke told me that I must spake 
 nary a word about what I've seen and heard, and if I 
 should thry to turn an honest penny by givin' a knowin' 
 wink or two where they wud pay for the same, that 'ud 
 be the ind of Pat M'Cabe at the big ot¥ice. And yet 
 they sez that them as buys news is loike them that takes 
 stolen goods — moighty willin' to kape dark abou^ where 
 they got it, so that they kin get more next time. That's 
 the iditor of the Currier '\n yon high room, and p'raps
 
 PAT AND THE PRESS. 79 
 
 he'll pay me as much for a wink and a hint the night as 
 I'll get for me day's work termorrow. Bust me if I 
 don't thry him, if he'll fust promise me to say if any one 
 axes him that he niver saw Pat M'Cabe in his loife," and 
 the suddenly improvised reporter climbed the long stair- 
 ways to where tiie night editor sat at his desk. 
 
 Pat gave a hearty rap for manners, but as the night 
 was waning he walked in without waiting for an answer, 
 and addressed the startled newspaper man with a busi- 
 ness-like directness, which might often be advantageously 
 imitated : 
 
 " Is this the shop where yer pays a dacent price for 
 news ? ' ' 
 
 "It depends on the importance of the news, and its 
 truthfulness," answered the editor, after eying the in- 
 truder suspiciously for a moment. 
 
 "Thin I've got ye on both counts, though I didn't 
 think ye'd bear down so heavy on its being thrue," said 
 Pat, advancing confidently. 
 
 As the door of the press-room, in which men were at 
 ^vork, stood open, the editor felt no alarm from the sud- 
 den appearance of the burly figure before him, but, 
 supposing the man had been drinking, he said impa- 
 tiently : 
 
 "Please state your business briefly, as my time is 
 valuable." 
 
 " If yer time is worth mor'n news, I'll go to another 
 shop," said Pat stiffly, making a feint of departure. 
 
 "That's a good fellow, go along," chimed in the ed- 
 itor, bending down to his writing again. 
 • Such disastrous acquiescence puzzled Pat for a mo- 
 ment, and he growled, " No wonder yer prints a paper 
 that's loike a lump o' lead, when 'stead o' lookin' for 
 news yer turns it away from yer doors." 
 
 "Now, look here, my man," said the editor rising, 
 *'if you have anything to say, say it. If you have been
 
 id KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 drinking, you will not be permitted to make a row in 
 this office." 
 
 " It'a not me, but another man that's been dhrinkin'." 
 
 "Well," snarled the editor, *'if the other man had 
 the drink, you have the 'drunk,' and if you don't take 
 yourself off, I'll call some men from the press-room who 
 may put you down stairs uncomfortably fast." 
 
 " Hould on a bit," remonstrated Pat, " before yer 
 ruffle yer feathers clane over yer head and bhnds yer 
 eyes. Wud a man loike Boss Arnot send me, if I was 
 dhrunk, wid a letther at this toime o' night? and wud he 
 send a letther to the suprintindent o' the perlice at this 
 toime o' the night to ax him the toime o' day ! Afore yer 
 calls yer spalpeens out o' the press-room squint at that." 
 
 The moment the editor caught sight of the business 
 stamp on Mr. Arnot's letter and the formal handwriting, 
 his manner changed, and he said suavely : 
 
 " I beg your pardon — we have misunderstood one an- 
 other — take a chair." 
 
 "There's been no misunderstandin' on my part," re- 
 torted Pat, with an injured air ; " I've got as dainty a 
 bit o' scandal jist under me tongue as iver ye spiced yer 
 paper wnd, and yees thrates me as if I was the inimy o* 
 yer sowl." 
 
 "Well, you see," said the editor apologetically, 
 " your not being in our regular employ, Mr. — I beg your 
 pardon — and your coming in this unusual way and 
 hour — " 
 
 " But, begorry, somethin' unusual's happened." 
 
 " So I understand ; it was very good of you to come to 
 us first ; just give me the points, and I will jot them down." 
 
 " But what are yees goin' to give me for the pints? " 
 
 " That depends upon what they are worth. News 
 cannot be paid for till we learn its value." 
 
 " Och ! here I'm rinnin a grate risk in tellin' ye at 
 all and whin I've spilt it all out, and can't pick it up
 
 PAT AND THE PEESS. 81 
 
 agin, ye may show me the door, and tell me to go 'long 
 wid me rubbish.' ' 
 
 " If you find what you have to report in the paper, 
 you may know it is worth something. So if you will 
 look at the paper to-morrow you can see whether it will 
 be worth your while to call again," said the editor, be- 
 coming impatient at Pat's hesitancy to open his budget. 
 
 " But I'm in sore need of a dollar or two to-night. Dade, 
 it's as much as my loife's worth to go home widout 'em." 
 
 "See here, my good friend," said the editor, rising 
 again and speaking very energetically : ♦' My time is 
 very valuable, and you have taken considerable of it. 
 Whatever may be the nature of your news, it will not be 
 worth any thing to me if you do not tell it at once." 
 
 "Well, you see the biggest part o' the news is goin' 
 to happen to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, well, what has happened to-night ? '' 
 
 " Will ye promise not to mention me name ? " 
 
 " How can I mention it when I don't know it? " 
 
 " That's thrue, that's thrue. Now me mind's aisy on 
 that pint, for ye must know that Boss Arnot's in'ards are 
 made o* cast iron, and he'd have no marcy on a feller. 
 Ye'U surely give me a dollar, at laste." 
 
 "Yes, if your story is worth printing, and I give you 
 just three minutes in which to tell it." 
 
 Thus pinned down, Pat related all he knew and sur- 
 mised concerning Haldane's woful predicament, saying 
 in conclusion, 
 
 " Ye must know that this Haldane is not a poor spal- 
 peen uv a clerk, but a gintleman's son. They sez that 
 his folks is as stylish and rich as the Arnots themselves. 
 If ye'U have a reporther up at the office in the mornin', 
 ye' 11 git the balance o' the tale." 
 
 Having received his dollar, Pat went chuckling on his 
 way to deliver his employer's letter to the superintendent 
 of the city police.
 
 82 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Faix ! I was as wise as a sarpent in not tellin' me name, 
 for ye niver can thrust these iditors. It's no green Irish- 
 man that can make a dollar after twelve o' the night." 
 
 A sleepy reporter was aroused and dispatched after 
 Pat, in order to learn, if possible, the contents of Mr. 
 Arnot's note. 
 
 In the meantime heavily leaded lines — vague and mys- 
 terious — concerning "Crime in High Life," were set up, 
 accompanied on the editorial page by a paragraph ta 
 the following effect : 
 
 With our usual enterprise and keen scent for news, we dis- 
 covered at a late hour last night that an intelligent Irishman in 
 the employ of Mr, Arnot had been intrusted by that gentleman 
 with a letter written after the hour of midnight to the superin- 
 tendent of the police. The guilty party appears to be. a Mr, 
 Haldane — a young man of aristocratic and wealthy connections 
 — who is at present in Mr. Arnot's employ, and a member of 
 his family. We think we are aware of the nature of his grave 
 offense, but in justice to all concerned we refer our readers to 
 our next issue, wherein they will find full particulars of the 
 painful affair, since we have obtained peculiar facilities for 
 learning them. No arrests have yet been made, 
 
 "That will pique all the gossips in town, and nearly- 
 double our next issue," complacently muttered the local 
 editor, as he carried the scrawl at the last moment into 
 the composing-room. 
 
 In the meantime the hero of our story — if such a term 
 by any latitude of meaning can be applied to one whose 
 folly had brought him into such a prosaic and miserable 
 plight — still lay in a heavy stupor on the lounge where 
 Pat had thrown his form, that had been as limp and 
 helpless as if it had become a mere body without a soul. 
 But the consequences of his action did not cease with his 
 paralysis, any more than do the influences of evil deeds 
 perish with a dying man.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 Mr. Arnot did not leave his library that night. His 
 wife came to the door and found it locked. To her appeal 
 he replied coldly, but decisively, that he was engaged. 
 
 She sighed deeply, feeling that the sojourn of young 
 Haldane under her roof was destined to end in a manner 
 most painful to herself and to her friend, his mother. 
 She feared that the latter would blame her somewhat for 
 his miserable fiasco, and she fully believed that if her 
 husband permitted the young man to suffer open dis- 
 grace, she would never be forgiven by the proud and 
 aristocratic lady. 
 
 And yet she felt that it was almost useless to speak to 
 her husband in his present mood, or to hope that he 
 could be induced to show much consideration for so grave 
 an offense. 
 
 Of the worst feature in Haldane' s conduct, however, 
 she had no knowledge. Mr. Arnot rarely spoke to his 
 wife concerning his business, and she had merely learned, 
 the previous evening, that Haldane had been sent to New 
 York upon some errand. Acting upon the supposition 
 that her husband had remembered and complied with 
 her request, she graciously thanked him for giving the 
 young man a little change and diverting novelty of scene. 
 
 Mr. Arnot, who happened to verge somewhat toward 
 a complacent mood upon this occasion, smiled grimly at 
 his wife's commendation, and even unbent so far as to 
 indulge in some ponderous attempts at wit with Laura 
 concerning her " magnificent offer," and asserted that if 
 she had been "like his wife, she would have jumped at 
 
 8.3
 
 84 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 the chance of getting hold of such a crude, unieformed 
 specimen of humanity. Indeed," concluded he, " I did 
 not know but that Mrs. Arnot was bringing about the 
 match, so that she might have a little of the raw material 
 for reformatory purposes continually on hand." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot smiled, as she ever did, at her husband's 
 attempted witticisms ; but what he regarded as light, 
 delicate shafts, winged sportively and carelessly, had 
 rather the character of any heavy object that came to 
 hand thrown at her with heedless, inconsiderate force. 
 It is due Mr. Arnot to say that he gave so little thought 
 and attention to the wounds and bruises he caused, as to 
 be unaware that any had been made. He had no hair- 
 springs and jewel-tipped machinery in his massive, an- 
 gular organization, and he acted practically as if the rest 
 of humanity had been cast in the same mold with himself. 
 
 But Haldane's act touched him at his most vulnerable 
 point. Not only had a large sum of his money been 
 made way with, but, what was far worse, there had been 
 a most serious irregularity in the business routine. While,, 
 therefore, he resolved that Haldane should receive full 
 punishment, the ulterior thought of giving the rest of his 
 e7nployes a warning and intimidating lesson chiefly occu- 
 pied his mind. 
 
 Aware of his wife's " unbusiness-like weakness and 
 sentimental notions," as he characterized her traits, he 
 determined not to see her until he had* carried out his 
 plan of securing repayment of the money, and of striking 
 a salutary sentiment of fear into the hearts of all who 
 were engaged in carrying out his methodical will. 
 
 Therefore, with the key of Haldane's room in his 
 pocket, he kept watch and guard during the remainder 
 of the night, taking only such rest as could be obtained 
 on the lounge in his library. 
 
 At about sunrise two men appeared, and rapped lightly 
 on the library window. Mr. Arnot immediately went out
 
 RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. a? 
 
 to them, and placed one within a summer-house in the 
 spacious garden at the rear of the house, and the otlier 
 in front, where he would be partially concealed by ever- 
 greens. By this arrangement the windows of Haldane's 
 apartment and every entrance of the house were under 
 the surveillance of police officers in citizen's dress. Mr. 
 Arnot's own personal pride, as well as some regard for 
 his wife's feelings, led him to arrange that the arrest 
 should not be made at their residence, for he wished that 
 all the events occurring at the house should be excluded 
 as far as possible from the inevitable talk which the affair 
 would occasion. At the same time he proposed to guard 
 against the possibility of Haldane's escape, should fear or 
 shame prompt his flight. 
 
 Having now two assistant watchers, he threw himself 
 on the sofa, and took an hour or more of unbroken sleep. 
 On awaking, he went with silent tread to the door of 
 Haldane's room, and, after Hstening a moment, was 
 satisfied from the heavy breathing within that its occu- 
 pant was still under the influence of stupor. He now 
 returned the key to the door, and unlocked it so that 
 Haldane could pass out as soon as he was able. Then, 
 after taking a little refreshment in the dining-room, he 
 went directly to the residence of a police justice of his 
 acquaintance, who, on hearing the facts as far as then 
 known concerning Haldane, made out a warrant for his 
 arrest, and promised that the officer to whom it would be 
 given should be sent forthwith to Mr. Arnot's office — for 
 thither the young man would first come, or be brought, 
 on recovering from his heavy sleep. 
 
 Beheving that he had now made all the arrangements 
 necessary to secure himself from loss, and to impress the 
 small army in his service that honesty was the "best 
 policy" in their relations with him, Mr. Arnot walked 
 leisurely to one of his factories in the suburbs, partly to see 
 that all was right, and partly to remind his agents there that
 
 86 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 they were in the employ of one whose untiring vigilance 
 would not permit any neglect of duty to escape undetected. 
 
 Having noted that the routine of work was gomg for- 
 ward as regularly as the monotonous clank of the 
 machinery, he finally wended his way to his city office, 
 and was the first arrival thither save Pat M'Cabe, wiio 
 had just finished putting the place in order for the busi- 
 ness of the day. His factotum was in mortal trepi- 
 dation, for in coming across town he had eagerly bought 
 the morning Courier, and his complacent sense of security 
 at having withheld his name from the " oncivil iditer " 
 vanished utterly as he read the words, •• an intelligent 
 Irishman in Mr. Arnot's employ." 
 
 " Och ! bloody blazes! that manes me," he had ex- 
 claimed ; " and ould Boss Arnot will know it jist as well 
 as if they had printed me name all over the paper. Bad 
 luck to the spalpeen, and worse luck to meself ! ' Intilli- 
 gent Irishman,' am I ? Then what kind o' a crather would 
 one be as had no sinse a' tall? Here I've bin throwin' 
 away forty dollars the month for the sake o' one ! Whin 
 I gets me discharge I'd better go round to the tother side 
 o' the airth than go home to me woife." 
 
 Nor were his apprehensions allayed as he saw Mr. 
 Arnot reading the paper with a darkening scowl ; but 
 for the present Pat was left in suspense as to his fate. 
 
 Clerks and book-keepers soon appeared, and among 
 them a pohceman, who was summoned to the inner office, 
 and given a seat somewhat out of sight behind the door. 
 
 Upon every face there was an expression of suppressed 
 excitement and expectation, for the attention of those 
 who had not seen the morning paper was speedily called 
 to the ominous paragraph. But the routine and disci- 
 pline of the office prevailed, and in a few minutes all 
 heads were bending over bulky journals and ledgers but 
 with many a furtive glance at the door. 
 
 As for Pat, he had the impression that the policeman
 
 RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 87 
 
 ^vithin would collar him before the morning was over, 
 and march him off, with Haldane, to jail ; and he was 
 in such a state of nervous apprehension that almost any 
 event short of an earthquake would be a relief if it could 
 only happen at once. 
 
 The April sun shone brightly and genially into the 
 apartment in which Haldane had been left to sleep off 
 his drunken stupor. In all its appointments it appeared 
 as fresh, inviting, and cleanly as the wholesome light 
 without. The spirit of the housekeeper pervaded every 
 part of the mansion, and in both furniture and decora- 
 tion it would seem that she had studiously excluded 
 every thing which would suggest morbid or gloomy 
 thoughts. It was Mrs. Arnot's philosophy that outward 
 surroundings impart their coloring to the mind, and are 
 a help or a hindrance. She was a disciple of the hght, 
 and was well aware that she must resolutely dwell in its 
 full effulgence in order to escape from the blighting 
 shadow of a life-long disappointment. Thus she sought 
 to make her home, not gay or gaudy, — not a brilliant 
 mockery of her sorrow, which she had learned to calmly 
 recognize as one might a village cemetery in a sunny 
 landscape, — but cheerful and lightsome like this April 
 morning, which looked in through the curtained windows 
 of Haldane's apartment, and found every thing in har 
 mony with itself save the occupant. 
 
 And yet he was young and in his spring-time. Why 
 should he make discord with the bright fresh morning? 
 Because the shadow of evil — which is darker than the 
 shadow of night, age, or sorrow — rested upon him. His 
 hair hung in disorder over a brow which was contracted 
 into a frown. His naturally fine features had a heavy, 
 bloated, sensual aspect ; and yet, even while he slept, 
 you caught a glimpse in this face — as through a vail — 
 of the anguish of a spirit that was suffering brutal wrong 
 and violence.
 
 88 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 His insensibility was passing away. His mind ap- 
 peared to be struggling to cast off the weight of a stupe- 
 fied body, but for a time its throes — which were rnani* 
 fested by starts, strong shudderings, and muttered words 
 — were ineffectual. At last, in desperation, as it were, 
 the tortured soul, poisoned even in its imaginings by the 
 impurity of the lower nature, conjured up such a horrid 
 vision that in its anguish it broke its chains, threw off the 
 crushing weight, and the young man started up. 
 
 This returning consciousness had not been, hke the 
 dawn stealing in at his window, followed by a burst of 
 sunlight. As the morning enters the stained, foul, dingy 
 places of dissipation, which early in the evening had 
 been the gas-lighted, garish scenes of riot and senseless 
 laughter, and later the fighting ground of all the vile 
 vermin of the night with their uncanny noises, — as when, 
 the doors and w^indows having been at last opened, 4;he 
 light struggles in through stale tobacco-smoke, revealing 
 dimly a discolored, reeking place, whose sights and odors 
 are more in harmony with the sewer than the sweet April 
 sunshine and the violets opening on southern slopes, — so 
 when reason and memory, the janitors of the mind, first 
 admitted the light of consciousness, only the obscure 
 outline of miserable feelings and repulsive events were 
 manifest to Haldane's introspection. 
 
 There was a momentary relief at finding that the hor- 
 rible dream which had awakened him was only a dream, 
 but while his waking banished the uncouth shapes of the 
 imagination, his sane, will-guided vision saw revealed 
 that from which he shrank with far greater dread. 
 
 For a few moments, as he stared vacantly around the 
 room, he could realize nothing save a dull, leaden weight 
 of pain. In this dreary obscurity of suffering, distinct 
 causes of trouble and fear began to shape themselves. 
 There was a mingled sense of misfortune and guilt. 
 He had a confused memory of a great disappointment,
 
 RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 89 
 
 and he knew from his condition that he had been drink- 
 ing. 
 
 He looked at himself — he was dressed. There stood 
 his muddy boots — two foul blots on the beauty and clean- 
 liness of the room. So then he had come, or had been 
 brought, at some hour during the night, to the house of 
 his stern and exacting employer. Haldane dismissed the 
 thought of him with a reckless oath ; but his face dark- 
 ened with anguish as he remembered that this was also 
 the home of Mrs. Arnot, who had been so kind, and, at 
 the present time, the home of Laura Romeyn also. 
 
 They may have seen, or, at least, must know of, his 
 degradation. 
 
 He staggered to the ewer, and, with a trembling hand^. 
 poured out a httle water. Having bathed his hot, feverish 
 face, he again sat down, and tried to recall what had 
 happened. 
 
 In bitterness of heart he remembered his last interview 
 with Laura, and her repugnance toward both himself 
 and what she regarded as "his disgusting vices," and 
 so disgusting did his evil courses now seem that, for the 
 first time in his life, he thought of himself with loathing. 
 
 Then, as memory rapidly duplicated subsequent events,, 
 he gave a contemptuous smile to his " gloomy grandeur " 
 schemes in passing, and saw himself on the way to New 
 York, with one thousand dollars of his employer's funds- 
 intrusted to his care. He remembered that he was in- 
 troduced to two fascinating strangers, that they drank 
 and lunched together, that they missed the train, that 
 they were gambhng, that, having lost all his own money,, 
 he was tempted to open a package belonging to Mr. 
 Arnot ; did he not open the other also ? At this point all 
 became confused and blurred. 
 
 What had become of that money ? 
 
 With nervous, trembling haste he searched his pockets. 
 Both the money and the envelopes were gone.
 
 •90 KNiailT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 His face blanched ; his heart sank with a certain fore- 
 boding of evil. He found himself on the brink of an 
 abyss, and felt the ground crumbling beneath him. P'irst 
 •came a mad impulse to fly, to escape and hide himself; 
 and he had almost carried it out. His hand was on the 
 door, but he hesitated, turned back, and walked the 
 floor in agony. 
 
 Then came the better impulse of one as yet unhard- 
 ened in the ways of evil, to go at once to his employer, 
 tell the whole truth, and make such reparation as was 
 Avithin his power. He knew that his mother was abun- 
 dantly able to pay back the money, and he believed she 
 would do so. 
 
 This he conceded was his best, and, indeed, only safe 
 course, and he hoped that the wretched affair might be 
 so arranged as to be kept hidden from the world. As 
 for Mrs. Arnot and Laura, he felt that he could never 
 .look them in the face again. 
 
 Suppose he should meet them going out. The very 
 thought was dreadful, and it seemed to him that he would 
 sink to the floor from shame under their reproachful eyes. 
 Would they be up yet? He looked at his watch; it had 
 run down, and its motionless hands pointed at the vile, 
 helpless condition in which he must have been at the 
 time when he usually wound it up. 
 
 He glanced from the window, with the hope of escap- 
 ing the two human beings whom he dreaded more than 
 the whole mocking world ; but it was too lofty to admit 
 of a leap to the ground. 
 
 " Who is yonder strange man that seems to be watch- 
 ing the house?" he queried. 
 
 Was it his shaken nerves and sense of guilt which led 
 him to suspect danger and trouble on every side ? 
 
 "There is no help for it," he exclaimed, grinding his 
 teeth ; and, opening the door, he hastened from the house, 
 looking neither to the right hand nor to the left.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HALDANE IS ARRESTED. 
 
 As Haldane strode rapidly along the winding, graveled 
 path that led from Mrs. Arnot's beautiful suburban villa 
 to the street, he started violently as he encountered a 
 stranger, who appeared to be coming toward the man- 
 sion ; and he was greatly relieved when he was permitted 
 to pass unmolested. And yet the cool glance of scrutiny 
 which he received left a very unpleasant impression. 
 Nor was this uneasiness diminished when, on reaching 
 the street, he found that the stranger had apparently ac- 
 comphshed his errand to the house so speedily that he 
 was already returning, and accompanied by another man. 
 
 Were not their eyes fixed on him, or was he misled by 
 his fears? After a little time he looked around again. 
 One of the men had disappeared, and he breathed more 
 fully. No ; there he was on the opposite side of the street,, 
 and walking steadily abreast with him, while his com- 
 panion continued following about the same distance away. 
 
 Was he " shadowed " .'' He was, indeed, literally and 
 figuratively. Although the sun was shining bright and 
 warm, never before had he been conscious of such a 
 horror of great darkness. The light which can banish 
 the oppressive, disheartening shadow of guilt must come 
 from beyond the sun. 
 
 As he entered the busier streets in the vicinity of the 
 office, he saw a few persons whom he knew. Was he 
 again misled by his overwrought and nervous condition ? 
 or did these persons try to shun him by turning corners, 
 entering shops, or by crossing the street, and looking 
 resolutely the other way. 
 
 Could that awful entity, the world, already know the 
 events of the past night? 
 
 91
 
 1)2 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 A newsboy was vociferating down a side street. The 
 word "Crime" only caught Haldane's ear, but the effect 
 was as cold and as chilling as the drip of an icicle. 
 
 As he hastened up the office steps, Pat M'Cabe scowled 
 Tjpon him, and muttered audibly, 
 
 "Bad luck till yees ! I wish I'd lift ye ablinkin' like 
 an owl where I found ye. 
 
 •• An' bad luck till yees, too," added Pat in his surly 
 growl, as a reporter, note-book in hand, stepped nimbly 
 in after Haldane ; "it's meself that wishes iviry iditer o' 
 the land was burned up wid his own lyin' papers." 
 
 Even the most machine-like of the sere and withered 
 book-keepers held their pens in suspense as Haldane 
 passed hastily toward Mr. Arnot's private office, followed 
 by the reporter, whose alert manner and observant, ques- 
 tioning eye suggested an animated symbol of interrogation. 
 
 The manner of his fellow clerks did not escape Hal- 
 dane's notice even in that confused and hurried moment, 
 and it increased his sense of an impending blow ; but 
 when, on entering the private office, Mr. Arnot turned 
 toward him his grim, rigid face, and when a man in the 
 uniform of an officer of the law rose and stepped forward 
 as if the one expected had now arrived, his heart mis- 
 gave him utterly, and for a moment he found no words, 
 but stood before his employer, pallid and trembling, his 
 very attitude and appearance making as full a confession 
 of guilt as could the statement he proposed to give. 
 
 If Pat's opinion concerning Mr. Arnot's " in'ards " had 
 not been substantially correct, that inexorable man would 
 have seen that this was not an old offender who stood 
 before him. The fact that Haldane was overwhelmed 
 with shame and fear, should have tempered his course 
 with healing and saving kindness. But Mr. Arnot had 
 already decided upon his plan, and no other thought 
 would occur to him save that of carrying it out with ma- 
 chine-like precision. His frown deepened as he saw the
 
 HALDANE IS ARRESTED. 95 
 
 reporter, but after a second's thought he made no ob- 
 jection to his presence, as the increasing pubhcity that 
 would result would add to the punishment which was 
 designed to be a signal warning to all in his employ. 
 
 After a moment's lowering scrutiny of the trembling 
 youth, during which his confidential clerk, by previous 
 arrangement, appeared, that he might be a witness of all 
 that occurred, Mr. Arnot said coldly, 
 
 " Well, sir, perhaps you can now tell me what has be- 
 come of the funds which I intrusted to your care last 
 evening." 
 
 " That is my purpose — object," stammered Haldane ;. 
 " if you will only give me a chance I will tell you every 
 thing." 
 
 " I am ready to hear, sir. Be brief ; business has suf- 
 fered too great an interruption already." 
 
 "Please have a httle consideration for me," said Hal- 
 dane, eagerly, great beaded drops of perspiration start- 
 ing from his brow ; " I do not wish to speak before all 
 these witnesses. Give me a private interview, and I will 
 explain every thing, and can promise that the money 
 shall be refunded." 
 
 "I shall make certain of that, rest assured," replied 
 Mr. Arnot, in the same cold, relentless tone. "The 
 money was intrusted to your care last evening, in the 
 presence of witnesses. Here are the empty envelopes. 
 If you have any explanations to make concerning what 
 you did with the money, speak here and now." 
 
 "I must warn the young man," said the policeman, 
 interposing, " not to say any thing which will tend to 
 criminate himself. He must remember that whatever he 
 says will appear against him in evidence." 
 
 " But there is no need that this affair should have any 
 such publicity," Haldane urged in great agitation. "If 
 Mr. Arnot will only show a little humanity toward me I 
 will Trange the matter so that he will not lose a penny.
 
 94 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Indeed, my mother will pay twice the sum rather than 
 have the affair get abroad." 
 
 The reporter just behind him grinned and lifted his 
 eyebrows as he took down these words verbatim. 
 
 " For your mother's sake I deeply regret that ' the af- 
 fair,' as you mildly term it, must and has become 
 known. As far as you are concerned, I have no com- 
 punctions. When a seeming man can commit a grave 
 crime in the hope that a widowed mother — whose stay 
 and pride he ought to be — will come to his rescue, and 
 buy immunity from deserved punishment, he neither de- 
 serves, nor shall he receive, mercy at my hands. But 
 were I capable of a maudlin sentiment of pity in the cir- 
 cumstances, the duty I owe my business would prevent 
 any such expression as you desire. When any one in 
 my employ takes advantage of my confidence, he must 
 also, and with absolute certainty, take the consequences." 
 
 " Bad luck ter yez ! " mentally ejaculated Pat, whom 
 curiosity and the fascination of his own impending fate 
 had drawn within earshot. 
 
 "What do you intend to do with me?" asked Hal- 
 dane, his brow contracting, and his face growing sullen 
 under Mr. Arnot's harsh, bitter words. 
 
 " Do ! What is done with clerks who steal their em- 
 ployers' money ? " 
 
 " I did not steal your money," said Haldane im- 
 petuously. 
 
 "Where is it, then?" asked Mr. Arnot, with a cold 
 sneer. 
 
 "Be careful, now," said the policeman; "you are 
 getting excited, and you may say what you'll wish you 
 hadn't." 
 
 " Mr. Arnot, do you mean to have it go abroad to all 
 the world that I have dehberately stolen that thousand 
 dollars?" asked the young man, desperately. 
 
 ■" Here are the empty envelopes. Where is the
 
 HALDANE IS ARRESTED. 95 
 
 money ? " said his employer, in the same cool, inexorable 
 tone. 
 
 "I met two sharpers from New York, who made a 
 fool of me — " 
 
 "Made a fool of you! that was impossible," inter- 
 rupt'&d Mr. Arnot \vith a harsh laugh. 
 
 " Dastard that you are, to strike a man when he is 
 down," thundered Haldane wrathfully. " Since every 
 thing must go abroad, the truth shall go, and not foul 
 slander. I got to drinking with these men from New 
 York, and missed the train — ' ' 
 
 " Be careful, now ; think what you are saying," inter- 
 rupted the policeman. 
 
 " He charges me with what amounts to a bald theft, 
 and in a way that all will hear of the charge, and shall 
 I not defend myself? " 
 
 " O, certainly, if you can prove that you did not take 
 the money — only remember, what you say will appear in 
 the evidence." 
 
 "What evidence?" cried the bewildered and excited 
 youth with an oath. " If you will only give me a chance, 
 you shall have all the evidence there is in a sentence. 
 These blacklegs from New York appeared like gentlemen. 
 A friend in town introduced them to me, and, after losing 
 the train, we agreed to spend the evening together. 
 They called for cards, and they won the money." 
 
 Mr. Arnot' s dark cheek had grown more swarthy at 
 the epithet of "dastard," but he coolly waited until Hal- 
 dane had finished, and then asked in his former tone, 
 
 " Did they take the money from your person and open 
 the envelopes, one carefully, the other recklessly, before 
 they won it ? " 
 
 Guided by this keen questioning, memory flashed back 
 its light on the events of the past night, and Haldane 
 saw himself opening the first package, certainly, and he 
 remembered how it was done. He trembled, and his
 
 96 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 face, that had been so flushed, grew very pale. For a 
 moment he was so overwhelmed by a realization of his 
 act, and its threatening consequences, that his tongue re- 
 fused to plead in his behalf. At last he stammered, 
 
 " I did not mean to take the money — only to borrow a 
 little of it, and return it that same night. They got me 
 drunk — I was not myself. But I assure you it will all be 
 returned. I can — " 
 
 "Officer, do your duty," interrupted Mr. Arnot 
 sternly. •' Too much time has been wasted over the 
 affair already, but out of regard for his mother I wished 
 to give this young man an opportunity to make an ex- 
 culpating explanation or excuse, if it were in his power. 
 Since, according to his own statement, he is guilty, the 
 law must take its course." 
 
 "You don't mean to send me to prison?" asked Hal- 
 dane excitedly. 
 
 " I could never send you to prison," replied Mr. Arnot 
 coldly ; " your own act may bring you there. But I do 
 mean to send you before the justice who issued the war- 
 rant for your arrest, held by this officer. Unless you can 
 find some one who will give bail in your behalf, I do not 
 see why he should treat you differently from other of- 
 fenders." 
 
 "Mr. Arnot," cried Haldane passionately, "this is 
 my first and only offense. You surely cannot be so cold- 
 blooded as to inflict upon me this irreparable disgrace ? 
 It will kill my mother." 
 
 "You should have thought of all this last evening," 
 said Mr. Arnot. " If you persist in ignoring the fact, 
 that it is your own deed that wounds your mother and 
 inflicts disgrace upon yourself, the world will not. Come, 
 Mr. Officer, serve your warrant, and remove your pris- 
 oner." 
 
 "Is it your purpose that I shall be dragged through 
 these streets in the broad light of day to a police court,
 
 HAL DANE IS ARRESTED. 97 
 
 and thence to jail ? " demanded Haldane, a dark menace 
 coming into his eyes, and finding expression in his Hvid 
 face. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man of business, rising and speak- 
 ing in loud, stern tones, so that all in the office could 
 hear ; " I mean that you or any one else in my employ 
 Avho abuses my trust and breaks the laws shall suffer 
 their full penalty." 
 
 "You are a hard-hearted wretch!" thundered Hal- 
 dane ; " you are a pagan idolater, and gold is your god. 
 You crush your wife and servants at home ; you crush 
 the spirit and manhood of your clerks here by your cast- 
 iron system and rules. If you had shown a little con- 
 sideration for me you would have lost nothing, and I 
 might have had a chance for a better life. But you 
 tread me down into the mire of the streets ; you make it 
 impossible for me to appear among decent men again ; 
 you strike my mother and sisters as with a dagger. Curse 
 you ! if I go to jail, it will require you and all your clerks 
 to take me there!" and he whirled on his heel, and 
 struck out recklessly toward the door. 
 
 The busy reporter was capsized by the first blow, and 
 his nose long bore evidence that it is a serious matter to 
 put that member into other people's affairs, even in a 
 professional way. 
 
 Before Haldane could pass from the inner office two 
 strangers, who had been standing quietly at the door, 
 each dexterously seized one of his hands with such an 
 iron grasp that, after a momentary struggle, he gave up, 
 conscious of the hopelessness of resistance. 
 
 " If you will go quietly with us we will employ no force," 
 said the man in uniform ; " otherwise we must use these ; " 
 and Haldane shuddered as light steel manacles were pro- 
 duced. "These men are officers like myself, and you 
 see that you stand no chance with three of us." 
 
 " Well, lead on, then," was the sullen answer. "I
 
 98 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 will go quietly if you don't use those, but if you do, I 
 will not yield while there is a breath of life in me." 
 
 " A most desperate and hardened wretch ! " ejaculated 
 the reporter, sopping his streaming nose. 
 
 With a dark look and deep malediction upon his em- 
 ployer, Haldane was led away. 
 
 Mr. Arnot was in no gentle mood, for, while he had 
 carried out his programme, the machinery of the legal 
 process had not worked smoothly. Very disagreeable 
 things had been said to him in the hearing of his clerks 
 and others. "Of course, they are not true," thought 
 the gentleman; "but his insolent words will go out in 
 the accounts of the affair as surely as my own." 
 
 If Haldane had been utterly overwhelmed and broken 
 down, and had shown only the cringing spirit of a de- 
 tected and whipped cur, Mr. Arnot' s complacency 
 would have been perfect. But as it was, the affair had 
 gone forward in a jarring, uncomfortable manner, which 
 annoyed and irritated him as would a defective, creaking 
 piece of mechanism in one of his factories. Opposition, 
 friction of any kind, only made his imperious will more 
 intolerant of disobedience or neglect ; therefore he sum- 
 moned Pat in a tone whose very accent foretold the 
 doom of the "intelligent Irishman." 
 
 " Did I not order you to give no information to any 
 one concerning what occurred last night?" he de- 
 manded in his sternest tone. 
 
 Pat hitched and wriggled, for giving up his forty dol- 
 lars a month was hke a surgical operation. He saw that 
 his master was incensed, and in no mood for extenuation ; 
 so he pleaded — 
 
 " Misther Arnot, won't ye plaze slape on it afore ye 
 gives me me discharge. If ye' 11 only think a bit about 
 them newspaper men, ye'U know it could not be helped 
 a' tall. If they suspicion that a man has any thing in 
 him that they're wantin' to know, they the same as put a
 
 EALDAXE IS ARRESTED, ^9 
 
 corkscrew intil him, and pull till somethin' comes, and 
 thin they make up the rest. Faix, sur, I niver could o' 
 got by 'em aloive wid me letther onless a little o' the 
 news had gone intil their rav'nous maws." 
 
 " Then I'll find a man who can get by them, and who 
 is able to obey my orders to the letter. The cashier will 
 pay you up to date ; then leave the premises," 
 
 " Och, Misther Arnot, me woife '11 be the death o' me, 
 and thin ye'll have me bluid on yer sowl. Give me one 
 more — " 
 
 " Begone ! " said his employer harshly ; "too much 
 time has been wasted already." 
 
 Pat found that his case was so desperate that he be- 
 came reckless, and, instead of slinking off, he, too, 
 showed the same insubordination and disregard for Mr. 
 Arnot's power and dignity that had been so irritating in 
 Haldane. Clapping his hat on one side of his head, and 
 with such an insolent cant forward that it quite obscured 
 his left eye, Pat rested his hands on his hips, and with 
 one foot thrust out sideways, he fixed his right eye on his 
 employer with the expression of sardonic contemplation, 
 and then delivered himself as follows : 
 
 "The takin' up a few minits o' yer toime is a moighty 
 tirrible waste, but the sindin' of a human bain to the 
 divil is no waste a' tall a' tall : that's the way ye rason, 
 is it? I allers heerd that yer in'ards were made o' cast 
 iron, and I can belave — " 
 
 " Leave this office," thundered Mr. Arnot. 
 
 " Begorry, ye can't put a man in jail for spakin' his 
 moind, nor for spakin' the truth. If ye had given me a 
 chance I'd been civil and obadient the rist o' me days. 
 But whin ye act to'ard a man as if he was a lump o' 
 dirt that ye can kick out o' the way, and go on, ye'll 
 foind that the lump o' dirt will lave some marks on yer 
 nice clothes. I tell yer till yer flinty ould face that ye'r 
 a hard-hearted riprobate that 'ud grind a poor divil to
 
 100 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 paces as soon as any mash-shinc in all yer big factories. 
 Ye* 11 see the day whin ye' 11 be under somebody's heel 
 yerself, bad luck to yez ! " 
 
 Pat's irate volubility flowed in such a torrent that even 
 Mr. Arnot could not check it until he saw fit to drop the 
 sluice-gates himself, which, with a contemptuous sniff, 
 and an expression of concentrated wormwood and gall, 
 he now did. Lifting his battered hat a little more toward 
 the perpendicular, he w^ent to the cashier's desk, obtained 
 his money, and then jogged slowly and aimlessly down 
 the street, leaving a wake of strange oaths behind him. 
 
 Thus Mr. Arnot's system again ground out the ex- 
 pected result ; but the plague of humanity was that it 
 would not endure the grinding process with the same 
 stolid, inert helplessness of other raw material. Though 
 he had had his way in each instance, he grew more and 
 more dissatisfied and out of sorts. This vituperation of 
 himself w^ould not tend to impress his employes with awe, 
 and strike a wholesome fear in their hearts. The cul- 
 prits, instead of slinking away overwhelmed with guilt 
 and the weight of his displeasure, had acted and spoken 
 as if he were a grim old tyrant ; and he had a vague, 
 uncomfortable feeling that his clerks in their hearts sided 
 with them and against him. It even occurred to him 
 that he was creating a relation between himself and those 
 in his service similar to that existing between master and 
 slaves ; and that, instead of forming a community with 
 identical interests, he was on one side and they on the 
 other. But, with the infatuation of a selfish nature and 
 imperious will, he muttered : 
 
 " Curse them ! I'll make them move in my grooves, 
 or toss them out of the way ! " Then, summoning his 
 confidential clerk, he said : 
 
 "You know all about the affair. You will oblige me by 
 going to the office of the justice, and stating the case, with 
 the prisoner's admissions. I do not care to appear further 
 in the matter, except by proxy, unless it is necessary."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A MEMORABLE MEETING. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot had looked upon Haldane's degradation 
 with feehngs akin to disgust and anger, but as long, 
 sleepless hours passed, her thoughts grew more gentle 
 and compassionate. She was by nature an advocate 
 rather than a judge. Not the spirit of the disciples, that 
 would call down fire from heaven, but the spirit of the 
 Master, who sought to lay His healing, rescuing hand on 
 every lost creature, always controlled her eventually. 
 Human desert did not count as much with her as human 
 need, and her own sorrows had made her heart tender 
 toward the sufferings of others, even though well merited. 
 
 The prospect that the handsome youth, the son of her 
 old friend, would cast himself down to perish in the 
 slough of dissipation, was a tragedy that wrung her heart 
 with grief ; and when at last she fell asleep it was with 
 tears upon her face. 
 
 Forebodings had followed Laura also, even into her 
 dreams, and at last, in a frightful vision, she saw her 
 uncle placing a giant on guard over the house. Her 
 uncle had scarcely disappeared before Haldane tried to 
 escape, but the giant raised his mighty club, as large and 
 heavy as the mast of a ship, and was about to strike 
 when she awoke with a violent start. 
 
 In strange unison with her dream she still heard her 
 uncle's voice in the garden below. She sprang to the; 
 window, half expecting to see the giant also nor was she 
 greatly reassured on observing an unknown man posted 
 in the summer-house and left there. Mr. Arnot's mys- 
 
 101
 
 102 KNIGUT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 lerious action, and the fact that he was out at that early 
 hour, added to the disquiet of mind which the events of 
 the preceding night had created. 
 
 Her simple home-life had hitherto flowed like a placid 
 stream in sunny meadows, but now it seemed as if the 
 stream were entering a forest where dark and ominous 
 shadows were thrown across its surface. She was too 
 womanly to be indifferent to the fate of any human be- 
 ing. At the same time she was still so much of a child, 
 and so ignorant of the world, that Haldane's action, even 
 as she understood it, loomed up before her imagination 
 as something awful and portentous of unknown evils. 
 She was oppressed with a feeling that a crushing blow 
 impended over him. Now, almost as vividly as in her 
 dream, she still saw the giant's club raised high to strike. 
 If it were only in a fairy tale, her sensitive spirit would 
 tremble at such a stroke, but inasmuch as it was falling 
 on one who had avowed passionate love for her, she felt 
 almost as if she must share in its weight. The idea of 
 reciprocating any feeling that resembled his passion had 
 at first been absurd, and now, in view of what he had 
 shown himself capable, seemed impossible ; and yet his 
 strongly-expressed regard for her created a sort of bond 
 between them in spite of herself. She had realized the 
 night before that he would be immediately dismissed and 
 sent home in disgrace ; but her dream, and the glimpse 
 she had caught of her uncle and the observant stranger, 
 who, as she saw, still maintained his position, suggested 
 worse consequences, whose very vagueness made them 
 all the more dreadful. 
 
 As it was still a long time before the breakfast hour, 
 -she again sought her couch, and after a while fell into a 
 troubled sleep, from which she was awakened by her 
 aunt. Hastily dressing, she joined Mrs. Arnot at a late 
 breakfast, and soon discovered that she was worried and 
 anxious as well as herself.
 
 A MEMORABLE MEETING. 103 
 
 " Has Mr. Haldane gone out ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes ; and what perplexes me is .^hat two strangers 
 followed him to the street so rapidly that they almost 
 seemed in pursuit." 
 
 Then Laura related what she had seen, and her aunt's 
 face grew pale and somewhat rigid as she recognized the 
 fact that her husband was carrying out some plan, un- 
 known to her, which might involve a cruel blow to her 
 friend, Mrs. Haldane, and an overwhelming disgrace to 
 Egbert Haldane. At the same time the thought flashed 
 upon her that the young man's offense might be graver 
 than she had supposed. But she only remarked quietly, 
 
 " I will go down to the office and see your uncle after 
 breakfast." 
 
 "O auntie, please let me go with you," said Laura 
 nervously. 
 
 " I may wish to see my husband alone," repHed Mrs. 
 Arnot doubtfully, foreseeing a possible interview which 
 she would prefer her niece should not witness. 
 
 " I will wait for you in the outer office, auntie, if you 
 will only let me go. I am so unstrung that I cannot bear 
 to be left in the house alone." 
 
 "Very well, then; we'll go together, and a walk in 
 the open air will do us both good." 
 
 As Mrs. Arnot was finishing her breakfast she listlessly 
 took up the morning Courier, and with a sudden start 
 read the heavy head-lines and paragraph which Pat's 
 unlucky venture as a reporter had occasioned. 
 
 "Come, Laura, let us go at once," said she, rising 
 hastily ; and as soon as they could prepare themselves 
 for the street they started toward the central part of the 
 city, each too busy with her own thoughts to speak often, 
 and yet each having a grateful consciousness of un- 
 spoken sympathy and companionship. 
 
 As they passed down the main street they saw a noisy 
 crowd coming up the sidewalk toward them, and they
 
 104 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 crossed over to avoid it. But the approaching throng 
 grew so large and boisterous that they deemed it prudent 
 to enter the open door of a shop until it passed. Their 
 somewhat elevated position gave them a commanding 
 view, and a policeman's uniform at once indicated that it 
 was an arrest that had drawn together the loose human 
 atoms that are always drifting about the streets. The 
 prisoner was followed by a retinue that might have 
 bowed the head of an old and hardened offender with 
 shame, — rude, idle, half-grown boys, with their morbid 
 interest in everything tending to excitement and crime, 
 seedy loungers drawn away from saloon doors where 
 they are as surely to be found as certain coarse weeds in 
 foul, neglected corners — a ragged, unkempt, repulsive 
 jumble of humanity, that filled the street with gibes, 
 slang, and profanity. Laura was about to retreat into the 
 shop in utter disgust, when her aunt exclaimed in a tone 
 of sharp distress, 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! there is Egbert Haldane ! " 
 
 With something like a shock of terror she recognized 
 her quondam lover, the youth who had stood at her side 
 and turned her music. But as she saw him now there 
 appeared an immeasurable gulf between them ; while 
 her pity for him was profound, it seemed as helpless and 
 hopeless in his behalf as if he were a guilty spirit that 
 was being dragged away to final doom. 
 
 Her aunt's startled exclamation caught the young 
 man's attention, for it was a voice that he would detect 
 among a thousand, and he turned his livid face, with iis 
 agonized, hunted look, directly toward them. 
 
 As their eyes met — as he saw the one of all the world 
 that he then most dreaded to meet, Laura Romeyn, re- 
 garding him with a pale, frightened face, as if he were a 
 monster, a wild beast, nay, worse, a common thief on 
 his way to jail — he stopped abruptly, and for a second 
 seemed to meditate some desperate act. But when he
 
 A MEMORABLE 3IEETING. 105 
 
 saw the rabble closing on him, and heard the officers 
 growl in surly tones, " Move on," a sense of helplessness 
 as well as of shame overwhelmed him. He shivered 
 visibly, dashed his hat down over his eyes, and strode 
 on, feeling at last that the obscurity of a prison cell 
 would prove a welcome refuge. 
 
 But Mrs. Arnot had recognized the intolerable suffer- 
 ing and humiliation stamped on the young man's fea- 
 tures ; she had seen the fearful, shrinking gaze at herself 
 and Laura, the lurid gleam of desperation, and read cor- 
 rectly the despairing gesture by which he sought to hide 
 from them, the rabble, and all the world, a countenance 
 from which he already felt that shame had blotted all 
 trace of manhood. 
 
 Her face again wore a gray, rigid aspect, as if she had 
 received a wound that touched her heart ; and, scarcely 
 waiting for the miscellaneous horde to pass, she took 
 Laura's arm, and said briefly and almost sternly, 
 
 " Come." 
 
 Mr. Arnot's equanimity was again destined to be dis- 
 turbed. Until he had commenced to carry out his 
 scheme of striking fear into the hearts of his employes, he 
 had derived much grim satisfaction from its contempla- 
 tion. But never had a severe and unrelenting policy 
 failed more signally, and a partial consciousness of the 
 fact annoyed him like a constant stinging of nettles 
 which he could not brush aside. When, therefore, his 
 wife entered, he greeted her with his heaviest frown, and 
 a certain twitching of his hands as he fumbled among his 
 papers, which showed that the man who at times seemed 
 composed of equal parts of iron and lead had at last 
 reached a condition of nervous irritability which might 
 result in an explosion of wrath ; and yet he made a des- 
 perate effort at self-control, for he saw that his wife was 
 in one of those moods which he had learned to regard 
 with a wholesome respect.
 
 106 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURT. 
 
 "You have sent Haldane to prison," she said coimly. 
 Though her tone was so quiet, there was in it a certain 
 depth and tremble which her husband well underetood, 
 but he only answered briefly : 
 
 " Yes ; he must go there if he finds no bail." 
 
 " May I ask why ? " 
 
 " He robbed me of a thousand dollars." 
 
 "Were there no extenuating circumstances?" Mrs. 
 Arnot asked, after a slight start. 
 
 " No, but many aggrav^ating ones." 
 
 " Did he not come here of his own accord ? " 
 
 " He could not have done otherwise. I had detectives 
 watching him." 
 
 " He could have tried to do otherwise. Did he not 
 offer some explanation ? " 
 
 "What he said amounted to a confession of the 
 crime." 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " I have not charged my mind with all the rash, foolish 
 words of the young scapegrace. It is sufficient for me 
 that he and all in my employ received a lesson which 
 they will not soon forget. I wish you would excuse me 
 from further consideration of the subject at present. It 
 has cost me too much time already." 
 
 " You are correct," said Mrs. Arnot very quietly. "It 
 15 likely to prove a very costly affair. I tremble to think 
 what your lesson may cost this young man, whom you 
 liave rendered reckless and desperate by this public dis- 
 grace ; I tremble to think what this event may cost my 
 friend, his mother. Of the pain it has cost me I will not 
 speak — ' ' 
 
 "Madam," interrupted Mr. Arnot harshly, "permit 
 me to say that this is an affair concerning which a senti- 
 mental woman can have no correct understanding. I 
 propose to carry on my business in the way which ex- 
 perience ha.s taught me is wise, and, with all respect to
 
 A MEMORABLE MEETING. 107 
 
 yourself, I would suggest that in these matters of business 
 I am in my own province." 
 
 The ashen hue deepened upon Mrs. Arnot's face, but 
 she answered quietly : 
 
 " I do not wish to overstep the bounds which should 
 justly limit my action and my interest in this matter. 
 You will also do me the justice to remember that I have 
 never interfered in your business, and have rarely asked 
 you about it, though in the world's estimation I would 
 have some right to do so. But if such harshness, if such 
 disastrous cruelty, is necessary to your business, I must 
 withdraw my means from it, for I could not receive 
 money stained, as it were, with blood. But of this here- 
 after. I will now telegraph Mrs. Haldane to come di- 
 rectly to our house — " 
 
 " To our house ! " cried Mr. Arnot, perfectly aghast. 
 
 " Certainly. Can you suppose that, burdened with 
 this intolerable disgrace, she could endure the publicity 
 of a hotel? I shall next visit Haldane, for as I saw hin-^ 
 in the street, with the rabble following, he looked desper- 
 ate enough to destroy himself." 
 
 "Now, 1 protest against all this weak sentimentality, "^ 
 said Mr. Arnot, rising. " You take sides with a robber 
 against your husband." 
 
 " I do not make light of Haldane's offense to you, and 
 certainly shall not to him. But it is his first offense, as 
 far as we know, and, though you have not seen fit to in- 
 form me of the circumstances, I cannot believe that he 
 committed a cool, deliberate theft. He could have been 
 made to feel his guilt without being crushed. The very 
 gravity of his wrong action might have awakened him 
 to his danger, and have been the turning-point of his 
 life. He should have had at least one chance — God 
 gives us many." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Arnot impatiently, "let his 
 mother return the money, and 1 will not prosecute. But
 
 108 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 why need Mrs. Haldane come to Hillaton? All can be 
 arranged by her lawyer." 
 
 " You know little of a mother's feelings if you can sup- 
 pose she'will not come instantly." 
 
 " Well, then, when the money is paid she can take 
 him home, that is, after the forms of law are complied 
 with." 
 
 " But he must remain in prison till the money is 
 paid 1 ' ' 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "You intimated that if any one went bail for him he 
 need not go to prison. I will become his security." 
 
 " O nonsense ! I might as well give bail myself." 
 
 " Has he reached the prison yet ? " 
 
 " I suppose he has," replied Mr. Arnot, taking care to 
 give no hint of the prehminary examination, for it would 
 have annoyed him excessively to have his wife appear at a 
 pohce court almost in the light of an antagonist to him- 
 self. And yet his stubborn pride would not permit him to 
 yield, and carry out with considerate delicacy the merci- 
 ful policy upon which he saw she was bent. 
 
 "Good morning," said his wife very quietly, and she 
 at once left her husband's private room. Laura rose 
 from her chair in the outer office and welcomed her 
 gladly, for, in her nervous trepidation, the minutes had 
 seemed like hours. Mrs. Arnot went to a telegraph of- 
 fice, and sent the following dispatch to Mrs. Haldane : 
 
 " Come to my house at once. Your son is well, but 
 has met with misfortune." 
 
 She then, with Laura, returned immediately home and 
 ordered her carriage for a visit to the prison. She also 
 remembered with provident care that the young man 
 could not have tasted food that morning.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OUR KNIGHT IN JAIL. 
 
 As Haldane emerged from the office into the open 
 glare of the street, he was oppressed with such an intol- 
 erable sense of shame that he became sick and faint, 
 and tottered against the policeman, who took no other 
 notice of his condition than the utterance of a jocular 
 remark : 
 
 "You haven't got over your drunk yet, I'm athink- 
 ing." 
 
 Haldane made no reply, and the physical weakness 
 gradually passed away. As his stunned and bewildered 
 mind regained the power to act, he became conscious of 
 a morbid curiosity to see how he was regarded by those 
 whom he met. He knew that their manner would pierce 
 like sword-thrusts, and yet every scornful or averted face 
 had a cruel fascination. 
 
 With a bitterness of which his young heart had never 
 before had even a faint conception, he remembered that 
 this cold and contemptuous, this scoffing and jeering 
 world was the same in which only yesterday he proposed 
 to tower in such lofty grandeur that the maiden who had 
 slighted him should be consumed with vain regret in 
 memory of her lost opportunity. He had, indeed, gained 
 eminence speedily. All the town was hearing of him ; 
 but the pedestal which lifted him so high was composed 
 equally of crime and folly, and he felt as if he might 
 stand as a monument of shame. 
 
 But his grim and legal guardians tramped along in the 
 most stohd and indifferent manner. The gathering rab-
 
 110 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ble at their heels had no terror for them. Indeed, they 
 rather enjoyed parading before respectable citizens this 
 dangerous substratum of society. It was a delicate way 
 of saying, " Behold in these your peril, and in us your 
 defense. We are necessary to your peace and security. 
 Respect us and pay us well." 
 
 They represented the majesty of the law, which could 
 lay its strong hand on high and low alike, and the pub- 
 licity which was like a scorching fire to Haldane brought 
 honor to them. 
 
 Although the journey seemed interminable to the cul- 
 prit, they were not long in reaching the police court, 
 where the magistrate presiding had already entered on 
 his duties. All night long, and throughout the entire 
 city the scavengers of the law had been at work, and 
 now as a result, every miserable atom of humanity that 
 had made itself a pestilential offense to society was gath- 
 ered here to be disposed of according to sanatory moral 
 rules. 
 
 Hillaton was a comparatively well-behaved and decor- 
 ous city ; but in every large community there is always a 
 certain amount of human sediment, and Haldane felt that 
 he had fallen low indeed, when he found himself classed 
 and huddled with miserable objects whose existence he 
 had never before realized. Near him stood men who 
 apparently had barely enough humanity left to make 
 their dominating animal natures more dangerous and 
 difficult to control. To the instincts of a beast was added 
 something of a man's intelligence, but so developed that 
 it was often little more than cunning. If, Avhen throwing 
 away his manhood, man becomes a creature more to be 
 dreaded than a beast or venomous reptile, whichever he 
 happens most to resemble, woman, parting with her 
 womanhood, scarcely finds her counterpart even in the 
 most noxious forms of earthly existence. She becomes, 
 in her perversion, something that is unnatural and mon-
 
 OUR KNIGHT IN JAIL. Ill 
 
 strous ; something, so opposite to the Creator's design, 
 as to suggest it only in caricature, or, more often, in 
 fiendish mockery. The Gorgons, Sirens, and Harpies of 
 the ancients are scarcely myths, for their fabled forms 
 only too accurately portray, not the superficial and tran- 
 sient outward appearance, but the enduring character 
 within. 
 
 Side by side with Haldane stood a creature whose di- 
 sheveled, rusty hair, blotched and bloated features, 
 wanton, cunning, restless eyes, combined perfectly to 
 form the head of the mythological Harpy. It required 
 httle effort of the imagination to believe that her foul, 
 bedraggled dress concealed the " wings and talons of the 
 vulture." Being still unsteady from her night's debauch, 
 she leaned against the young man, and when he shrank 
 in loathing away, she, to annoy him, clasped him in her 
 arms, to the uproarious merriment of the miscellaneous 
 crowd that is ever present at a police court. Haldane 
 broke away from her grasp with such force as to make 
 quite a commotion, and at the same time said loudly and 
 fiercely to the officer who had arrested him : 
 
 " You may have the power to take me to jail, but you 
 have not, and shall not have, the right nor the power to 
 subject me to such indignities." 
 
 "Silence there! Keep order in the court!" com- 
 manded the judge. 
 
 The officer removed his prisoner a little farther apart 
 from the others, growling as he did so : 
 
 "If you don't like your company, you should have 
 kept out of it." 
 
 Even in his overwhelming anxiety and distress Hal- 
 dane could not forbear giving a few curious glances at 
 his companions. He had dropped out of his old world 
 into a new one, and these were its inhabitants. In their 
 degradation and misery he seemed to see himself and his 
 future reflected. What had the policeman said ?— " Your
 
 112 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 company," and with a keener pang than he had yet ex- 
 perienced he reahzed that this was his company, that he 
 / now belonged to the criminal classes. He who yester- 
 ' day had the right to speak to Laura Romeyn, was now 
 '' herded with drunkards, thieves, and prostitutes ; he who 
 yesterday could enter Mrs. Arnot's parlor, might now as 
 easily enter heaven. As the truth of his situation grad- 
 ually dawned upon him, he felt as if an icy hand were 
 closing upon his heart. 
 
 But little time, however, was given him for observa- 
 tion or bitter revery. With the rapid and routine-like 
 manner of one made both callous and expert by long ex- 
 perience, the magistrate was sorting and disposing of the 
 miserable waifs. Now he has before him the inmates of 
 a "disorderly house," upon which a "raid" had been 
 made the previous night. What is that fair young girl 
 with blue eyes doing among those coarse-featured human 
 dregs, her companions ? She looks like a white hly that 
 has been dropped into a puddle. Perhaps that delicate 
 and attractive form is but a disguise for the Harpy's 
 wings and claws. Perhaps a gross, bestial spirit is 
 masked by her oval Madonna-like face. Perhaps she is 
 the victim of one upon whom God will wreak His venge- 
 ance forever, though society has for Him scarcely a 
 frown. 
 
 The puddle is suddenly drained off into some law-or- 
 dained receptacle, and the white lily is swept away with 
 it. She will not long suggest a flower that has been 
 dropped into the gutter. The stains upon her soul wili 
 creep up into her face, and make her hideous like the 
 rest. 
 
 The case of Egbert Haldane was next called. As the 
 policeman had said, his own admissions were now used 
 against him, for the confidential clerk, and, if there was 
 need, the broken-nosed reporter were on hand to testify 
 to all that had been said. The young man made no at«
 
 OUR KNIGHT IX JAIL. 113 
 
 tempt to conceal, but tried to explain more fully the cir- 
 cumstances which led to the act, hoping that in them the 
 justice would find such extenuating elements as would 
 prevent a committal to prison. 
 
 The judge recognized and openly acknowledged the 
 fact that it was not a case of deliberate wrong-doing, and 
 he ordered the arrest of the superior young gentleman 
 who had introduced the New York gamblers to their 
 victim ; and yet in the eye of the law it was a clear case 
 of embezzlement ; and, as Mr. Arnot's friend, the mag- 
 istrate felt httle disposition to prevent things from taking 
 their usual course. The prisoner must either furnish bail 
 at once, or be committed until he could do so, or until the 
 case could be properly tried. As Haldane was a com- 
 parative stranger in Hillaton there was no one to whom 
 he felt he could apply, and he supposed it would require 
 some little time for his mother to arrange the matter. 
 Upon his signifying that he could not furnish bail imme- 
 diately, the judge promptly ordered his committal to the 
 common jail of the city, which happened to be at some 
 distance from the building then employed for the pre- 
 liminary examinations. 
 
 It was while on his way to this place of detention that 
 he heard Mrs. Arnot's voice, and encountered her eyes 
 and those of Laura Romeyn. His first impulse was to 
 end both his suffering and himself by some desperate 
 act, but he was powerless even to harm himself. 
 
 The limit of endurance, however, had been reached. 
 The very worst that he could imagine had befallen him. 
 Laura Romeyn had looked upon his unutterable shame 
 and disgrace. From a quivering and almost agonizing 
 sensibility to his situation he reacted into sullen indiffer- 
 ence. He no longer saw the sun shining in the sky, nor 
 the familiar sights of the street ; he no longer heard nor 
 heeded the jeering rabble that came tramping after. He 
 became for the time scarcely more than a piece of mech-
 
 114 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 anism, that barely retained the power of voluntary mo- 
 tion, but had lost ability to feel and think. When, at 
 last, he entered his narrow cell, eight feet by eight, the 
 wish half formed itself in his mind that it was six feet by- 
 two, and that he might hide in it forever. 
 
 He sat down on the rough wooden couch which formed 
 the only furniture of the room, and buried his face in his 
 hands, conscious only of a dull, leaden weight of pain. 
 He made no effort to obtain legal counsel or to commu- 
 nicate his situation to his mother. Indeed, he dreaded 
 to see her, and he felt that he could not look his sisters 
 in the face again. The prison cell seemed a refuge from 
 the terrible scorn of the world, and his present impulse 
 was to cower behind its thick walls for the rest of his 
 life.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Ml. arnot's system works badly. 
 
 Mr. Arnot was so disturbed by his wife's visit that he 
 found it impossible to return to the routine of business, 
 and, instead of maintaining the cold, lofty bearing of a 
 man whose imperious will awed and controlled all within 
 its sphere, he fumed up and down his office like one who 
 had been caught in the toils himself. In the morning it 
 had seemed that there could not have been a fairer op- 
 portunity to vindicate his iron system, and make it irre- 
 sistible. The offending subject in his business realm 
 should receive due punishment, and all the rest be taught 
 that they were governed by inexorable laws, which would 
 be executed with the certainty and precision with which 
 the wheels moved in a great factory under the steady im- 
 pulse of the motor power. But the whole matter now 
 bade fair to end in a tangled snarl, whose final issue no 
 one could foretell. 
 
 He was sensitive to pubHc opinion, and had supposed 
 that his course would be upheld and applauded, and he 
 be commended as a conservator of public morals. He 
 now feared, however, that he would be portrayed as 
 harsh, grasping, and unfeeling. It did not trouble him 
 that he was so, but that he would be made to appear so. 
 
 But his wife's words in reference to the withdrawal of 
 her large property from his business was a far more 
 serious consideration. He had learned how resolute and 
 unswerving she could be in matters of conscience, and 
 he knew that she was not in the habit of making idle 
 threats in moments of irritation. If, just at this time, 
 when he was widely extending his business, she should 
 115
 
 116 kniOht of the nineteenth century. 
 
 demand a separate investment of her means, it would 
 embarrass and cripple him in no slight degree. If this 
 should be one of the results of his master-stroke, he would 
 have reason to curse his briUiant policy all his days. He 
 would now be only too glad to get rid of the Haldane 
 affair on any terms, for thus far it had proved only a 
 source of annoyance and mortification. He was some- 
 what consoled, however, when his confidential clerk 
 returned and intimated that the examination before the 
 justice had been brief; that Haldane had eagerly stated 
 his case to the justice, but when that dignitary remarked 
 that it was a clear case of embezzlement, and that he 
 would have to commit the prisoner unless some one went 
 security for his future appearance, the young fellow had 
 grown sullen and answered, "Send me to jail then; I 
 have no friends in this accursed city." 
 
 To men of the law and of sense the case was as clear 
 as daylight. 
 
 But Mr. Arnot was not by any means through with his 
 disagreeable experiences. He had been a manufacturer 
 sufficiently long to know that when a piece of machinery 
 is set in motion, not merely the wheels nearest to one will 
 move, but also others that for the moment may be out of 
 sight. He who proposes to have a decided influence 
 upon a fellow-creature's destiny should remember our 
 complicated relations, for he cannot lay his strong grasp 
 upon one life without becoming entangled in the interests 
 of many others. 
 
 Mr. Arnot was finding this out to his cost, for he had 
 hardly composed himself to his writing again before there 
 was a rustle of a lady's garments in the outer office, and 
 a hasty step across the threshold of his private sanctum. 
 Looking up, he saw, to his dismay, the pale, frightened 
 face of Mrs. Haldane. 
 
 "Where is Egbert? — where is my son?" she asked 
 abruptly.
 
 MB. ARNOrS SYSTEM WORKS BADLY. 117 
 
 At that moment Mr. Arnot admitted to himself that he 
 had never been asked so embarrassing a question in all 
 his life. Before him was his wife's friend, a lady of the 
 highest social rank, and she was so unmistakably a lady 
 that he could treat her with only the utmost deference. 
 He saw with alarm himself the mother's nervous and 
 trembling apprehension, for there was scarcely any thing 
 under heaven that he would not rather face than a scene 
 with a hysterical woman. If this was to be the climax 
 of his policy he would rather have lost the thousand dol- 
 lars than have had it occur. Rising from his seat, he 
 said awkwardly : 
 
 " Really, madam, I did not expect you here this morn- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " I was on my way to New York, and decided to stop 
 and give my son a surprise. But this paper — this dread- 
 ful report — what does it mean ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to say, madam, it is all too true,'' replied 
 Mr, Arnot uneasily. "Please take a chair, or perhaps 
 it would be better for you to go at once to our house and 
 see Mrs. Arnot," he added, now glad to escape the inter- 
 view on any terms. 
 
 " What is too true ? " she gasped. 
 
 " I think you had better see Mrs. Arnot ; she will ex- 
 plain," said the unhappy man, who felt that his system 
 was tumbling in chaos about his ears. " Let me assist 
 you to your carriage." 
 
 " Do you think I can endure the suspense of another 
 moment? In mercy speak — tell me the worst ! " 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Arnot, with a shiver like that of one 
 about to plunge into a cold bath, " I suppose you will 
 learn sooner or later that your son has committed a very 
 wrong act. But," he added hastily, on seeing Mrs. Hal- 
 dane's increasing pallor, " there are extenuating circum- 
 stances—at least, I shall act as if there were." 
 
 "But what has he done— where is he?" cried the
 
 118 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 mother in agony. Then she added in a frightened whis- 
 per, " But the matter can be hushed up — there need be no 
 pubhcity— O, that would kill me ! Please take steps — " 
 
 "Mr, Arnot," said a young man just entering, and 
 speaking in a piping, penetrating voice, " I represent the 
 Evening Spy. I wish to obtain from you for publication 
 the particulars of this disgraceful affair." Then, seeing 
 Mrs. Haldane, who had dropped her vail, and was trem- 
 bling violently, he added, " I hope I am not intruding ; 
 I—" 
 
 " Yes, sir, you are intruding," said Mr. Arnot harshly. 
 
 " Then, perhaps, sir, you will be so kind as to step out- 
 side for a moment. I can take down your words rapidly, 
 and — " 
 
 " Step outside yourself, sir. I have nothing whatever 
 to say to you." 
 
 " I beg you to reconsider that decision, sir. Of course, 
 a full account of the affair must appear in this even- 
 ing's Spy. It will be your own fault if it is not true in 
 all respects. It is said that you have acted harshly in 
 the matter — that it was young Haldane' s first offense, 
 and — " 
 
 " Leave my office ! " thundered Mr. Arnot. 
 
 The lynx-eyed reporter, while speaking thus rapidly, 
 had been scrutinizing the vailed and trembling lady, and 
 he was scarcely disappointed that she now rose hastily, 
 and threw back her vail as she said eagerly, 
 
 " Why must the whole affair be pubhshed ? You say 
 truly that his offense, whatever it is, is his first. Surely 
 the editor of your paper will not be so cruel as to blast a 
 young man forever with disgrace ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Haldane, I presume," said the reporter, tracing 
 a few hieroglyphics in his note-book. 
 
 " Yes," continued the lady, speaking from the impulse 
 of her heart, rather than from any correct knowledge of 
 the world, " and I will pay willingly any amount to have
 
 MR. ARNOT'S SYSTE3I WORKS BADLY. 119 
 
 the whole matter quietly dropped. I could not endure 
 any thing of this kind, for I have no husband to shelter 
 me, and the boy has no father to protect him." 
 
 Mr. Arnot groaned in spirit that he had not considered 
 this case in any of its aspects save those which related to 
 his business. He had formed the habit of regarding all 
 other considerations as unworthy of attention, but here, 
 certainly, was a most disagreeable exception. 
 
 "You touch my feelings deeply," said the reporter, in 
 a tone that never for a second lost its professional ca- 
 dence, " but I much regret that your hopes cannot be 
 realized. Your son's act could scarcely be kept a secret 
 after the fact — known to all — that he has been openly 
 dragged to prison through the streets," and the gatherer 
 of news and sensations kept an eye on each of his victims 
 as he made this statement. A cabalistic sign in his note- 
 book indicated the visible wincing of the enraged and 
 half-distracted manufacturer, whose system was like an 
 engine off the track, hissing and helpless ; and a few 
 other equally obscure marks suggested to the initiated 
 the lady's words as she half shrieked : 
 
 " My son dragged through the streets to prison ! By 
 w^hom — who could do so dreadful?" — and she sank 
 shudderingly into a chair, and covered her face with her 
 hands, as if to shut out a harrowing vision. 
 
 " I regret to say, madam, that it w-as by a policeman," 
 added the reporter. ' 
 
 " And thither a policeman shall drag you, if you do not 
 instantly vacate these premises ! " said Mr. Arnot, hoarse 
 with rage. 
 
 " Thank you for your courtesy," answered the reporter, 
 shutting his book with a snap like that of a steel trap. " I 
 have now about all the points I wish to get here. I un- 
 derstand that Mr. Patrick M'Cabe is no longer under any 
 obligations to you, and from him I can learn additional 
 particulars. Good morning."
 
 120 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Yes, go to that unsullied source of truth, whom I have 
 just discharged for lying and disobedience. Go to per- 
 dition, also, if you please ; but take yourself out of my 
 office," said Mr. Arnot recklessly, for he was growing 
 desperate from the unexpected complications of the case. 
 Then he summoned one of his clerks, and said in a tone 
 of authority, " Take this lady to my residence, and leave 
 her in the care of Mrs. Arnot," 
 
 Mrs. Haldane rose unsteadily, and tottered toward the 
 door. 
 
 "No," said she bitterly ; " I may faint in the street, 
 but I will not go to your house." 
 
 " Then assit the lady to her carriage ; " and Mr. Arnot 
 turned the key of his private office with muttered impre- 
 cations upon the whole wretched affair. 
 
 "Whither shall I tell the man to drive?" asked the 
 clerk, after Mrs. Haldane had sunk back exhausted on 
 the seat. 
 
 The lady put her hand to her brow, and tried to collect 
 her distracted thoughts, and, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion, said, 
 
 •' To the prison." 
 
 The carriage containing Mrs. Haldane stopped at last 
 before the gloomy massive building, the upper part of 
 which was used as a court-room and offices for city and 
 county officials, while in the basercient were constructed 
 the cells of the prison. It required a desperate effort on 
 the part of the timid and delicate lady, who for years had 
 almost been a recluse from the world, to sum.mon courage 
 to alight and approach a place that to her abounded in 
 many and indefinite horrors. She was too preoccupied 
 to observe that another carriage had drawn up to the en- 
 trance, and the first intimation that she had of Mrs. Ar- 
 not' s presence occurred when that lady took her hand in 
 the shadow of the porch, and said, 
 
 " Mrs. Haldane, I am greatly surprised to see you
 
 ME. ABNOT'S SYSTEM WORKS BADLY. 121 
 
 here ; but you can rely upon me as a true friend through- 
 out this trial. I shall do all in my power to — " 
 
 After the first violent start caused by her disturbed 
 nervous condition, Mrs. Haldane asked, in a reproachful 
 and almost passionate tone, 
 
 " Why did you not prevent — " and then she hesitated, 
 as if she could not bring herself to utter the concluding 
 words. 
 
 "I could not; I did not know ; but since I heard I 
 have been doing every thing in my power." 
 
 " It was your husband who — " 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Arnot, sadly, completing in 
 thought her friend's unfinished sentence. " But I had no 
 part in the act, and no knowledge of it until a short time 
 since. I am now doing all I can to procure your son's 
 speedy release. My husband's action has been perfectly 
 legal, and we, who would temper justice with mercy, 
 must do so in a legal way. Permit me to introduce you 
 to my friend, Mr. Melville. He can both advise us and 
 carry out such arrangements as are necessary;" and 
 Mrs. Haldane saw that Mrs. Arnot was accompanied by 
 a gentleman, whom in her distress she had not hitherto 
 noticed. 
 
 The janitor now opened the door, and ushered them 
 into a very plain apartment, used both as an oftice and 
 reception-room. Mrs. Haldane was so overcome by her 
 emotion that her friend led her to a chair, and continued 
 her reassuring words in a low voice designed for her ears 
 alone : 
 
 " Mr. Melville is a lawyer, and knows how to manage 
 these matters. You may trust him implicitly. I will give 
 security for your son's future appearance, should it be 
 necessary, and I am quite satisfied it will not be, as my 
 husband has promised me that he will not prosecute if 
 the money is refunded." 
 
 " I would have paid ten times the amount — any thing
 
 122 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 rather than have suffered this public disgrace," sobbed 
 the poor woman, who, true to her instincts and hfe-long 
 habit of thought, dwelt more upon the consequent shame 
 of her son's act than its moral character, 
 
 " Mr. Melville says he will give bail in his own name 
 for me," resumed Mrs. Arnot, "as, of course, I do not 
 -wish to appear to be acting in opposition to my husband. 
 Indeed, I am not, for he is willing that some such an ar- 
 rangement should be made. He has very many in his 
 employ, and feels that he must be governed by rigid 
 rules. Mr. Melville assures me that he can speedily 
 effect Egbert's release. Perhaps it will save you pain to 
 go at once to our house and meet your son there." 
 
 " No," replied the mother, rising, " I wish to see him 
 at once. I do appreciate your kindness, but I cannot go 
 to the place which shelters your husband. I can never 
 forgive him. Nor can I go to a hotel. I viould rather 
 5tay in this prison until I can hide myself and my miser- 
 able son in our own home. O, how dark and dreadful 
 are God's ways! To think that the boy that I had 
 brought up in the Church, as it were, should show such 
 unnatural depravity ! " Then, stepping to the door, she 
 said to the under-sheriff in waiting, " Please take me to 
 my son at once, if possible." 
 
 "Would you like me to go with you?" asked >klrs. 
 Arnot, gently. 
 
 " Yes, yes! for I may faint on the way. O, how dif- 
 ferently this day is turning out from what I expected ! I 
 was in hopes that Egbert could join me in a httle trip to 
 New York, and I find him in prison ! "
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 haldane's resolve. 
 
 It was not in accordance with nature nor with Hal- 
 dane's pecuhar temperament that he should remain long 
 under a stony paralysis of shame and despair. Though 
 tall and manlike in appearance, he was not a man. 
 Boyish traits and impulses still lingered ; indeed, they 
 had been fostered and maintained longer than usual by 
 a fond and indulgent mother. It was not an evidence of 
 weakness, but rather a wholesome instinct of nature, that 
 his thoughts should gradually find courage to go to that 
 mother as his only source of comfort and help. She, at 
 least, would not scorn him, and with her he might find a 
 less dismal refuge than his narrow cell, should it be pos- 
 sible to escape imprisonment. If it were not, he was too. 
 young and unacquainted with misfortune not to long for 
 a few kind words of comfort. 
 
 He did not even imagine that Mrs. Arnot, the wife of 
 his employer, would come near him in his deep disgrace. 
 Even the thought of her kindness and his requital of it 
 now stung him to the quick, and he fairly writhed as he 
 pictured to himself the scorn that must have been on 
 Laura's face as she saw him on his way to prison like a 
 common thief. 
 
 As he remembered how full of rich promise life was 
 but a few days since, and how all had changed even 
 more swiftly and unexpectedly than the grotesque events 
 of a horrid dream, he bowed his head in his hands and 
 sobbed like a grief-stricken child. 
 
 "O mother, mother," he groaned, "if I could only 
 123
 
 124 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 hear your voice and feel your touch, a little of this crush- 
 ing weight might be lifted off my heart ! " 
 
 Growing calmer after a time, he was able to consider 
 his situation more connectedly, and he was about to 
 summon the sheriff in charge of the prison, that he might 
 telegraph his mother, when he heard her voice as, in the 
 company of that official, she was seeking her way to him. 
 
 He shrank back in his cell. His heart beat violently 
 as he heard the rustle of her dress. The sheriff unlocked 
 the grated iron door which led to the long, narrow cor- 
 ridor into which the cells opened, and to which prisoners 
 had access during the day. 
 
 " He's in that cell, ladies," said the officer's voice, and 
 then, with commendable delicacy, withdrew, having first 
 ordered the prisoners in his charge to their cells. 
 
 "Lean upon my arm," urged a gentle voice, which 
 Haldane recognized as that of Mrs. Arnot. 
 
 " O, this is awful!" moaned the stricken woman; 
 " this is more than /can endure." 
 
 The pronoun she used threw a chill on the heart of her 
 son but when she tottered to the door of his cell he 
 sprang forward, with the low, appealing cry, 
 
 " Mother! " 
 
 But the poor gentlewoman was so overcome that she 
 sank down on a bench by the door, and, with her face 
 buried in her hands, as if to shut out a vision that would 
 blast her, she rocked back and forth in anguish, as she 
 groaned, 
 
 " O Egbert, Egbert ! you have disgraced me, you 
 have disgraced your sisters, you have disgraced your- 
 self beyond remedy. O God ! what have I done to 
 merit this awful, this overwhelming disaster?" 
 
 With deep pain and solicitude Mrs, Arnot watched the 
 young man's face as the light from the grated window 
 fell upon it. The appeal that trembled in his voice had 
 been more plainly manifest in his face, which had worn
 
 EALDANE'S RESOLVE. 125 
 
 an eager and hopeful expression, and even suggested 
 the spirit of the httle child when in some painful emer- 
 gency it turns to its first and natural protector. 
 
 But most marked was the change caused by the 
 mother's lamentable want of tact and self-control, for 
 that same face became stony and sullen. Instead of 
 showing a spirit which deep distress and crushing dis- 
 aster had made almost childUke in its readiness to re- 
 ceive a mother's comfort once more, he suddenly became, 
 in appearance, a hardened criminal. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot longed to undo by her kindness the evil 
 which her friend was unwittingly causing, but could not 
 come between mother and son. She stooped down, 
 however, and whispered, 
 
 "Mrs. Haldane, speak kindly to your boy. He looked 
 to you for sympathy. Do not let him feel that you, like 
 the world, are against him." 
 
 "O no," said Mrs. Haldane, her sobs ceasing some- 
 what, " I mean to do my duty by him. He shall always 
 have a good home, but oh ! what a blight and a shadow 
 he has brought to that home ! That I should have ever 
 lived to see this day ! O Egbert, Egbert ! your sisters 
 will have to live like nuns, for they can never even go 
 out upon the street again ; and to think that the finger 
 of scorn should be pointed after you in the city where 
 your father made our name so honorable ! " 
 
 "It never shall be," said Haldane coldly. "You 
 have only to leave me in prison to be rid of me a long 
 time." 
 
 "Leave you in prison!" exclaimed his mother; "I 
 would as soon stay here myself. No; through Mrs. 
 Arnot's kindness, arrangements are made for your re- 
 lease. I shall then take you to our miserable home as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 " I am not going home." 
 
 " Now, this is too much ! What will you do? '"
 
 126 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " I shall remain in this city," he rephed, speaking 
 from an angry impulse. " It was here I fell and covered 
 myself with shame, and I shall here fight my way back 
 to the position I lost. The time shall come when you 
 will no longer say I'm a disgrace to you and my sisters. 
 My heart was breaking, and the first word you greet me 
 with is 'disgrace;' and if I went home, disgrace would 
 always be in your mind, if not upon your tongue, I 
 should have the word and thought kept before me till I 
 went mad. If I go home all my old acquaintances would 
 sneer at me as a mean-spirited cur, whose best exploit 
 was to get in jail, and when his mother obtained his re- 
 lease he could do nothing more manly than hide behind 
 her apron the rest of his days. As far as I can judge, 
 you and my sisters would have no better opinion of me. 
 I have been a wicked fool, I admit, but I was not a 
 ■deliberate thief. I did hope for a little comfort from 
 you. But sintre all the world is against me, I'll face and 
 ■fight the world. I have been dragged through these 
 streets, the scorn of every one, and I will remain in this 
 city until I compel the respect of its proudest citizen." 
 
 The moment he ceased his passionate utterance, Mrs. 
 Arnot said kindly and gravely : 
 
 " Egbert, you are mistaken. There was no scorn in 
 my eyes, but rather deep pity and sorrow. While your 
 course has been very wrong, you have no occasion to 
 despair, and as long as you will try to become a true 
 man you shall have my sympathy and friendship. You 
 do not understand your mother. She loves you as truly 
 as ever, and is willing to make any sacrifice for you. 
 Only, her fuller knowledge of the world makes her real- 
 ize more truly than you yet can the consequences of your 
 act. The sudden shock has overwhelmed her. Her 
 distress sho<\s how deeply she is wounded, and you 
 should try to comfort her by a lifetime of kindness." 
 
 " The best way I can comfort her is by deeds that will
 
 HALDANE'S RESOLVE. 127 
 
 wipe out the memory of my disgrace; and," he con- 
 tinued, his impulsive, sanguine spirit kindhng with the 
 thought and prospect, " I will regain all and more than 
 I have lost. The time shall come when neither she nor 
 my sisters will have occasion to blush for me, nor to 
 seclude themselves from the world because of their rela- 
 tion to me." 
 
 " I should think my heart was sufficiently crushed and 
 broken already," Mrs. Haldane sobbed, "without your 
 adding to its burden by charging me with being an un- 
 natural mother. I cannot understand how a boy 
 brought up as religiously as you have been can show 
 such strange depravity. The idea that a child of mine 
 could do any thing which would bring him to such a place 
 as this ! " 
 
 His mother's words and manner seemed to exasperate 
 her son beyond endurance, and he exclaimed passion- 
 ately, 
 
 "Well, curse it all! I am here. What's the use of 
 harping on that any longer? Can't you hsten when I say 
 I want to retrieve myself? As to my religious bringing 
 up, it never did me a particle of good. If you had 
 whipped my infernal nonsense out of me, and made me 
 mind when I was little — There, there, mother," he con- 
 cluded more considerately, as she began to grow hyster- 
 ical under his words, " do, for God's sake, be more com- 
 posed ! We can't help what has happened now. I'll 
 either change the world's opinion of me, or else get out 
 of it." 
 
 " How can 1 be composed when you talk in so dread- 
 ful a manner? You can't change the world's opinion. 
 It never forgives and never forgets. It's the same as if 
 you had said, I'll either do what is impossible or throw 
 away my life ! " 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Haldane," said Mrs. Arnot gently, 
 but firmly, " your just and natural grief is such that you
 
 128 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 cannot now judge correctly and wisely concerning this 
 matter. The emergency is so unexpected and so grave 
 that neither you nor your son should form opinions or 
 make resolves until there has been time for calmer 
 thought. Let me take you home with me now, and as 
 soon as Egbert is released he can join you there." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Arnot," said Haldane decidedly ; " I shall 
 never enter your parlor again until I can enter it as a 
 gentleman, — as one whom your other guests, should I 
 meet them, would recognize as a gentleman. Your 
 kindness is as great as it is unexpected, but I shall take 
 no mean advantage of it." 
 
 "Well, then," said Mrs. Arnot with a sigh, "nothing 
 can be gained by prolonging this painful interview. We 
 are detaining Mr. Melville, and delaying Egbert's re- 
 lease. Come, Mrs. Haldane ; I can take you to the 
 private entrance of a quiet hotel, where you can be en- 
 tirely secluded until you are ready to return home. 
 Egbert can come there as soon as the needful legal 
 forms are complied with." 
 
 "No," said the young man with his former decision, 
 "mother and I must take leave of each other here. 
 Mother wants no jail-birds calling on her at the hotel. 
 When I have regained my social footing — when she is 
 ready to take my arm and walk up Main-street of this 
 city — then she shall see me as often as she wishes. It 
 was my own cursed folly that brought me to the gutter, 
 and if mother will pay the price of my freedom, I will 
 alone and unaided make my way back among the high- 
 est and proudest." 
 
 "I sincerely hope you may win such a position," said 
 Mrs. Arnot gravely, " and it is not impossible for you to 
 do so, though I wish you would make the attempt in a 
 different spirit ; but please remember that these consid- 
 erations do not satisfy and comfort a mother's heart. 
 You should think of all her past kindness ; you should
 
 HALDANE'S RESOLVE. 129 
 
 realize how deeply you have now wounded her, and 
 strive with tenderness and patience to mitigate the blow." 
 
 "Mother, I am sorry, more sorry than you can ever 
 know," he said, advancing to her side and taking her 
 hand, " and I have been bitterly punished ; but I did not 
 mean to do what I did ; I was drunk — " 
 
 " Drunk ! " gasped the mother, " merciful Heaven ! " 
 
 *' Yes, drunk — may the next drop of wine I take choke 
 me ! — and I did not know what I was doing. But do 
 not despair of me. I feel that I have it in me to make a 
 man yet. Go now with Mrs. Arnot, and aid in her kind 
 efforts to procure my release. When you have suc- 
 ceeded, return home, and think of me as well as you can 
 until I make you think better," and he raised and 
 kissed her with something like tenderness, and then 
 placed within Mrs. Arnot' s arm the hand of the poor 
 weak woman, who had become so faint and exhausted 
 from her conflicting emotions that she submitted to be 
 led away after a feeble remonstrance. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot sent Mr. Melville to the prisoner, and also 
 the food she had brought. She then took Mrs. Haldane 
 to a hotel, where, in the seclusion of her room, she could 
 have every attention and comfort. With many reassur- 
 ing words she promised to call later in the day, and if 
 possible bring with her the unhappy cause of the poor 
 gentlewoman's distress.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE IMPULSES OF WOUNDED PRIDE. 
 
 That which at first was httle more than an impulse, 
 caused by wounded pride, speedily developed into a set- 
 tled purpose, and Haldane would leave his prison cell 
 fully bent on achieving great things. In accordance 
 with a tendency in impulsive natures, he reacted from 
 something like despair into quite a sanguine and heroic 
 mood. He would "face and fight the world, ay, and 
 conquer it, too." He would go out into the streets which 
 had witnessed his disgrace, and, penniless, empty- 
 handed, dowered only with shame, he would prove his 
 manhood by winning a position that would compel re- 
 spect and more than respect. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot, who returned immediately to the prison, 
 was puzzled to know how to deal with him. She ap- 
 proved of his resolution to remain in Hillaton, and of his 
 purpose to regain respect and position on the very spot, 
 as it were, where, by his crime and folly he had lost both. 
 She was satisfied that such a course promised far better 
 for the future than a return to his mother's luxurious 
 home. With all its beauty and comfort it would become 
 to him almost inevitably a slough, both of " despond " 
 and of dissipation — dissipation of the worst and most 
 hopeless kind, wherein the victim's ruling motive is to 
 get rid of self. The fact that the young man was capa- 
 ble of turning upon and facing a scornful and hostile 
 world was a good and hopeful sign. If he had been 
 willing to slink away with his mother, bent only on 
 escape from punishment and on the continuance of 
 
 130
 
 THE IMPULSES OF WOUNDED PRIDE. 131 
 
 animal enjoyment, Mrs. Arnot would have felt that his 
 nature was not sufficiently leavened with manhood to 
 give hope of reform. 
 
 But while his action did suggest hope, it also contained 
 elements of discouragement. She did not find fault with 
 what he proposed to do, but with the spirit in which he 
 was entering on his most difficult task. His knowledge 
 of the world was so crude and partial that he did not at 
 all realize the herculean labor that he now became eager 
 to attempt ; and he was bent on accomphshing every 
 thing in a way that would minister to his own pride, and 
 proposed to be under obligations to no one. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot, with her deep and long experience, knew 
 how vitally important it is that human endeavor should 
 be supplemented by divine aid, and she sighed deeply as 
 she saw that the young man not only ignored this need, 
 but did not even seem conscious of it. Religion was to 
 him a matter of form and profession, to which he was 
 utterly indifferent. The truth that God helps the dis- 
 tressed as a father helps and comforts his child, was a 
 thought that then made no impression on him whatever. 
 God and all relating to Him were abstractions, and he felt 
 that the emergency was too pressing, too imperative, for 
 considerations that had no practical and immediate bear- 
 ing upon his present success. 
 
 Indeed, such was his pride and self-confidence, that 
 he refused to receive from Mrs. Arnot, and even from 
 his mother, any thing more than the privilege of going 
 out empty-handed into the city which was to become the 
 arena of his future exploits. 
 
 He told Mrs. Arnot the whole story, and she had hoped 
 that she could place his folly and crime before him in its 
 true moral aspects, and by dealing faithfully, yet kindly, 
 with him, awaken his conscience. But she had the tact 
 to discover very soon that such effort was now worse 
 than useless. It was not his conscience, but his pride,
 
 132 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 that had been chiefly wounded. He felt his disgrace, 
 his humiHation, in the eyes of men almost too keenly, and 
 he was consumed with desire to regain society's favor. 
 But he did not feel his sin. To God's opinion of him he 
 scarcely gave a thought. He regarded his wrong act in 
 the light of a sudden and grave misfortune rather than as 
 the manifestation of a foul and inherent disease of his 
 soul. He had lost his good name as a man loses his 
 property, and beheved that he, in his own strength, and 
 without any moral change, could regain it. 
 
 When parting at the prison, Mrs. Arnot gave him her 
 hand, and said : 
 
 "I trust that your hopes may be realized, and your 
 efforts meet with success ; but I cannot help warning you 
 that I fear you do not realize what you are attempting. 
 The world is not only very cold, but also suspicious and 
 wary in its disposition toward those who have forfeited 
 its confidence. I cannot learn that you have any definite 
 plans or prospects. I have never been able to accom- 
 plish much without God's help. You not only seem to 
 forget your need of Him, but you are not even willing to 
 receive aid from me or your own mother. I honor and 
 respect you for making the attempt upon which you are 
 bent, but I fear that pride rather than wisdom is your 
 counselor in carrying out your resolution ; and both God's 
 word and human experience prove that pride goes but a 
 little way before a fall." 
 
 " I have reached a depth," replied Haldane, bitterly, 
 "from whence I cannot fall; and it will be hereafter 
 some consolation to remember that I was not lifted out 
 of the mire, but that I got out. If I cannot climb up 
 again it were better I perished in the gutter of my 
 shame." 
 
 " I am sorry, Egbert, that you cut yourself off from the 
 most hopeful and helpful relations which you can ever 
 sustain. A father helps his children through their troubles,
 
 THE IMPULSES OF WOUNDED PRIDE. 133 
 
 and so God is desirous of helping us. There are some 
 things which we cannot do alone — it is not meant that 
 ve should. God is ever willing to help those who are 
 down, and Christians are not worthy of the name unless 
 they are also willing. It is our duty to make every effort 
 of which we ourselves are capable ; but this is only half 
 our duty. Since our tasks are beyond our strength and 
 ability, we are equally bound to receive such human aid 
 as God sends us, and, chief of all, to ask daily, and some- 
 times hourly, that His strength be made perfect in our 
 weakness. But there are some lessons which are only 
 learned by experience. I shall feel deeply grieved if you 
 do not come or send for me in any emergency or time of 
 special need. In parting, I have one favor to ask, and I 
 think I have a right to ask it. I wish you to go and see 
 your mother, and spend at least an hour with her before 
 she returns home. As a matter of manly duty, be kind 
 and gentle. Remember how deeply you have wounded 
 her, and that you are under the most sacred obligations 
 to endure patiently all reproaches and expressions of 
 grief. If you will do this you will do much to regain my 
 respect, and it will be a most excellent step toward a 
 better hfe. You can gain society's respect again only by 
 doing your duty, and nothing can be duty more plainly 
 than this." 
 
 After a moment's hesitation he said, " I do not think 
 an interview with mother now will do either of us any 
 good ; but, as you say, you have a right to ask this, and 
 much more, of me. I will go to her hotel and do the 
 best I can ; but somehow mother don't understand hu- 
 man nature — or, at least, my nature — and when I have 
 been doing wrong she always makes me feel like doing 
 worse." 
 
 " If you are to succeed in your endeavor you are not 
 to act as you feel. You are to do right. Remember that 
 in your effort to win the position you wish in this city, you
 
 134 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 start with at least one friend to whom you can always 
 come. Good-by," and Mrs. Arnot returned home weary 
 and sad from the day's unforeseen experiences. 
 
 In answer to Laura's eager questioning, she related 
 what had happened quite fully, vailing only that which a 
 delicate regard for others would lead her to pass in si- 
 lence. She made the young girl womanly by treating 
 her more as a woman and a companion than as a child. 
 In Mrs. Arnot's estimation her niece had reached an age 
 when her innocence and simplicity could not be main- 
 tained by efforts to keep her shallow and ignorant, but 
 fcy revealing to her life in its reality, so that she might 
 wisely and gladly choose the good from its happy con- 
 trast with evil and its inevitable suffering. 
 
 The innocence that walks bhndly on amid earth's 
 snares and pitfalls is an uncertain possession ; the inno- 
 cence that recognizes evil, but turns from it with dread 
 and aversion, is priceless, 
 
 Mrs. Arnot told Laura the story of the young man's 
 folly substantially as he had related it to her, but she 
 skillfully showed how one comparatively venial thing 
 had led to another, until an act had been committed 
 which might have resulted in years of imprisonment. 
 
 "Let this sad and miserable affair teach you," said 
 she, " that we are never safe when we commence to do 
 wrong or act foolishly. We can never tell to what dis- 
 astrous lengths we may go when we leave the path of 
 simple duty." 
 
 While she mentioned Haldane's resolution to regain, 
 if possible, his good name and position, she skillfully re- 
 moved from the maiden's mind all romantic notions 
 concerning the young man and her relation to his con- 
 duct. 
 
 Laura's romantic nature w^ould always be a source 
 both of strength and weakness. While, on the one 
 hand, it rendered her incapable of a sordid and calculat-
 
 THE IMPULSES OF WOUNDED PRIDE. 135 
 
 ing scheme of life, on the other, it might lead to feeling 
 and action prejudicial to her happiness. Mrs. Arnot did 
 not intend that she should brood over Haldane until her 
 vivid imagination should weave a net out of his misfor- 
 tunes which might insnare her heart. It was best for 
 Laura that she should receive her explanations of life in 
 very plain prose, and the picture that her aunt presented 
 of Haldane and his prospects was prosaic indeed. He 
 was shown to be but an ordinary young man, with more 
 than ordinarily bad tendencies. While she commended 
 his effort in itself, she plainly stated how wanting it was 
 in the true elements of success, and how great were her 
 fears that it would meet with utter failure. Thus the 
 affair ended, as far as Laura was concerned, in a sincere 
 pity for her premature lover, and a mild and natural 
 interest in his future welfare — but nothing more. 
 
 Mr. Arnot uttered an imprecation on learning that his 
 wife had gone security for Haldane. But when he found 
 that she had acted through Mr. Melville, in such a way 
 that the fact need not become known, he concluded 
 to remain silent concerning the matter. He and his 
 wife met at the dinner-table that evening as if nothing 
 unusual had occurred, both having concluded to ignore 
 all that had transpired, if possible. Mrs. Arnot saw that 
 her husband had only acted characteristically, and, fron 
 his point of view, correctly. Perhaps his recent expen 
 ence would prevent him from being unduly harsh agaii 
 should there ever be similar cause, which was quite im 
 probable. Since it appeared that she could minister tc 
 his happiness in no other way save through her property, 
 she decided to leave him the one meager gratification of 
 which he was capable. 
 
 The future in its general aspects may here be antici- 
 pafed by briefly stating that the echoes of the affair 
 gradually died away. Mr. Arnot, on the receipt of a 
 check for one thousand dollars from Mrs. Haldane's
 
 136 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 lawyer, was glad to procure Mr. Melville's release from 
 the bond for which his wife was pledged, by assuring the 
 legal authorities that he would not prosecute. The su- 
 perior young man, who made free drinks the ambition of 
 his life, had kept himself well informed, and on learning 
 of the order for his arrest left town temporarily for parts 
 unknown. The papers made the most of the sensation, 
 to the disgust of all concerned, but reference to the af- 
 fair soon dwindled down to an occasional paragraph. 
 The city press concluded editorially that the great man- 
 ufacturer had been harsh only seemingly, for the sake 
 of effect, and with the understanding that his wife would 
 show a little balancing kindness to the culprit and his 
 aristocratic mother. That Haldane should still remain 
 in the city was explained on the ground that he was 
 ashamed to go home, or that he was not wanted there.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AT ODDS WITH THE WORLD. 
 
 Haldane kept his promise to spend an hour with his 
 mother. While he told her the truth concerning his 
 folly, he naturally tried to place his action in the best 
 light possible. After inducing her to take some slight 
 refreshment, he obtained a close carriage, and saw her 
 safely on the train which would convey her to the city 
 wherein she resided. During the interview she grew 
 much more composed, and quite remorseful that she had 
 not shown greater consideration for her son's feehngs, 
 and she urged and even entreated him to return home 
 with her. He remained firm, however, in his resolution, 
 and would receive from her only a very small sum of 
 money, barely enough to sustain him until he could look 
 around for employment. 
 
 His mother shared Mrs. Arnot's distrust, greatly 
 doubting the issue of his large hopes and vague plans ; 
 but she^could only assure him that her home, to which 
 she returned crushed and disconsolate, was also his. 
 
 But he felt that return was impossible. He would 
 rather wander to the ends of the earth than shut himself 
 up with his mother and sisters, for he foresaw that their 
 daily moans and repinings would be daily torture. It 
 would be even worse to appear among his old acquaint- 
 ances and companions, and be taunted with the fact that 
 his first venture from home ended in a common jail. 
 The plan of drifting away to parts unknown, and of par- 
 tially losing his identity by changing his name, made a 
 cold, dreary impression upon him, like the thought of 
 annihilation, and thus his purpose of remaining in Hilla- 
 
 137
 
 138 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ton, and winning victory on the very ground of his de- 
 feat, grew more satisfactory. 
 
 But he soon began to learn how serious, how disheart- 
 ening, is the condition of one who finds society arrayed 
 against him. 
 
 It^is the fashion to inveigh against the " cold and piti- 
 less world ; " but the world has often much excuse for 
 maintaining this character. As society is now consti- 
 tuted, the consequences of wrong-doing are usually ter- 
 rible and greatly to be dreaded ; and all who have 
 unhealthful cravings for forbidden things should be made 
 to realize this. Society very naturally treats harshly 
 those who permit their pleasures and passions to en- 
 danger its very existence. People who have toilsomely 
 and patiently erected their homes and placed therein 
 their treasures do not tolerate with much equanimity 
 those who appear to have no other calHng than that of 
 recklessly playing with fire. The well-to-do, conserva- 
 tive world has no inchnation to make things pleasant for 
 those who propose to gratify themselves at any and every 
 cost: and if the culprit pleads, "I did not realize — I 
 meant no great harm," the retort comes back, " But 
 you do the harm ; you endanger every thing. If you 
 have not sense or principle enough to act wisely and 
 \\e\\, do not expect us to risk our fortunes with either 
 fools or knaves." And the man or the woman who has 
 preferred pleasure or passing gratification or transient 
 advantage to that priceless possession, a good name, has 
 little ground for complaint. If society readily condoned 
 those grave offenses which threaten chaos, thousands 
 who are now restrained by salutary fear would act out 
 disastrously the evil lurking in their hearts. As long as 
 the instinct of self-preservation remains, the world will 
 seem cold and pitiless. 
 
 But it often is so to a degree that cannot be too severely 
 condemned. The world is the most soulless of all cor-
 
 AT ODDS WITH THE WORLD. 139 
 
 porations. In dealing with the criminal or unfortunate 
 classes it generahzes to such an extent that exceptional 
 cases have little chance of a special hearing. If by any 
 means, however, such a hearing can be obtained, the 
 world is usually just, and often quite generous. But in 
 the main it says to all : " Keep your proper places in the 
 ranks. If you fall out, we must leave you behind ; if you 
 make trouble, we must abate you as a nuisance." This 
 certainty has the effect of keeping many in their places 
 who otherwise would drop out and make trouble, and is, 
 so far, wholesome. And yet, in spite of this warning 
 truth, the wayside of life is lined with those who, for some 
 reason, have become disabled and have fallen out of their 
 places ; and miserably would many of them perish did 
 not the Spirit of Him who came " to seek and save the 
 lost" animate true followers like Mrs. Arnot, leading 
 them likewise to go out after the lame, the wounded, and 
 the morally leprous. 
 
 Haldane was sorely wounded, but he chose to make his 
 appeal wholly to the world. Ignoring Heaven, and those 
 on earth representing Heaven's forgiving and saving 
 mercy, he went out alone, in the spirit of pride and self- 
 confidence, to deal with those who would meet him solely 
 on the ground of self-interest. How this law works 
 against such as have shown themselves unworthy of trust, 
 he at once began to receive abundant proof. 
 
 He returned to the hotel whence he had just taken his 
 mother, but the proprietor declined to give him lodgings. 
 It was a house that cherished its character for quietness 
 and eminent respectabihty, and a young gambler and 
 embezzler just out of prison would prove an ill-omened 
 guest. On receiving a cold and peremptory refusal to his 
 application, and in the presence of several others, Hal- 
 dane stalked haughtily away ; but there was misgiving 
 and faintness at his heart. Such a public rebuff was a 
 new and strange experience.
 
 140 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 With set teeth and hps compressed he next resolved to 
 go to the very hotel where he had committed his crime, 
 and from that starting-point fight his way up. He found 
 the public room more than usually well filled with loung- 
 ers, and could not help discovering, as he entered, that 
 he was the subject of their loud and unsavory conversa- 
 tion. The Evenifig Spy had just been read, and all were 
 very busy discussing the scandal. As the knowledge of 
 his presence and identity was speedily conveyed to one 
 and another in loud whispers, the noisy tongues ceased, 
 and the young man found himself the center of an em- 
 barrassing amount of observation. But he endeavored 
 to give the idlers a defiant and careless glance as he 
 walked up to the proprietor and asked for a room. 
 
 " No, sir ! " replied that virtuous individual, with sharp 
 emphasis ; " you have had a room of me once too often. 
 It's not my way to have gamblers, bloats, and jail-birds 
 hanging around my place, — ' not if the court knows her- 
 self; and she thinks she does.' You've done all you 
 could to give my respectable, first-class house the name 
 of a low gambling hell. The evening paper even hints 
 that some one connected with the house had a hand in 
 your being plucked. You've damaged me hundreds of 
 dollars, and if you ever show your face within my doors 
 again I'll have you arrested." 
 
 Haldane was stung to the quick, and retorted venge- 
 fully : 
 
 " Perhaps the paper is right. I was introduced to the 
 blacklegs in your bar-room, and by a scamp who was a 
 habitual lounger here. They got their cards of you, and, 
 having made me drunk, and robbed me in one of your 
 rooms, they had no trouble in getting away." 
 
 "Do you make any such charge against me ? " bel- 
 lowed the landlord, starting savagely forward. 
 
 " I say, as the paper Sdijs, perhaps," rephed Haldane, 
 standing his ground, but quivering with rage ; " I shall
 
 AT ODDS WITH TEE WORLD. 141 
 
 give you no ground for a libel suit ; but if you will come 
 out in the street you shall have all the satisfaction you 
 want ; and if you lay the weight of your finger on me 
 here, I'll damage you worse than I did last night." 
 
 " How dare you come here to insult me?" said the 
 landlord, but keeping now at a safe distance from the in- 
 censed youth. " Some one, go for a policeman, for the^ 
 fellow is out of jail years too soon." 
 
 " I did not come here to insult you, I came, as every^ 
 one has a right to come, to ask for a room, for which I 
 meant to pay your price, and you insulted me." 
 
 "Well, you can't have a room." 
 
 " If you had quietly said that and no more in the first 
 place, there would have been no trouble. But I want 
 you and everyone else to understand that I won't be 
 struck, if I am down ; " and he turned on his heel and" 
 strode out of the house, followed by a volley of curses- 
 from the enraged landlord and the bar-tender, who had 
 smirked so agreeably the evening before. 
 
 A distorted account of this scene — pubhshed in the 
 Courier the following day, in connection with a detailed 
 account of the whole miserable affair — added considerably 
 to the ill repute that already burdened Haldane; for it 
 was intimated that he was as ready for a street brawl as 
 for any other species of lawlessness. 
 
 The Courier, having had the nose of its representative 
 demolished by Haldane, was naturally prejudiced against 
 him ; and, influenced by its darkly-colored narrative, the 
 citizens shook their heads over the young man, and con- 
 cluded that he was a dangerous character, who had be- 
 come unnaturally and precociously depraved ; and there 
 was quite a general hope that Mr. Arnot would not fail 
 to prosecute, so that the town might be rid of one who 
 promised to continue a source of trouble. 
 
 The Spy, a rival paper, showed a tendency to dwell on 
 the extenuating circumstances. But it is so much easier
 
 142 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 for a community to believe evil rather than good of a 
 person, that mere excuses and apologies, and the sugges- 
 tion that the youth had been victimized, had little weight. 
 Besides, the world shows a tendency to detest weak fools 
 even more than knaves. 
 
 After his last bitter experience Haldane felt unwilling 
 to venture to another hotel, and he endeavored to find a 
 quiet boarding-place ; but as soon as he mentioned his 
 name, the keepers, male and female, suddenly discovered 
 that they had no rooms. Night was near, and his courage 
 was beginning to fail him, when he at last found a thrifty 
 gentlewoman who gave far more attention to her house- 
 wifely cares than to the current news. She readily re- 
 ceived the well-dressed stranger, and showed him to his 
 room. Haldane did not hide his name from her, for he 
 resolved to spend the night in the street before dropping 
 a name which now seemed to turn people from him as if 
 contagion lurked in it, and he was relieved to find that, 
 as yet, it had to her no disgraceful associations. He was 
 bent on securing one good night's rest, and so excused 
 himself from going down to supper, lest he should meet 
 some one that knew him. After nightfall he slipped out 
 to an obscure restaurant for his supper. 
 
 His precaution, however, was vain, for on his return to 
 his room he encountered in a hallway one of the loungers 
 who had witnessed the recent scene at the hotel. After 
 a second's stare the man passed on down to the shabby- 
 genteel parlor, and soon whist, novels, and papers were 
 dropped, as the immaculate little community learned of 
 the contaminating presence beneath the same roof with 
 themselves. 
 
 " A man just out of prison ! A man merely released on 
 bail, and who would certainly be convicted when tried ! " 
 
 With a virtue which might have put " Caesar's wife " 
 to the blush, sere and withered gentlewomen pursed up 
 their mouths, and declared that they could not sleep in
 
 AT ODDS WITH THE WORLD. 143 
 
 the same house with such a disreputable person. The 
 thrifty landlady, whose principle of success was the con- 
 centration of all her faculties on the task of satisfying the 
 digestive organs of her patrons, found herself for once at 
 fault, and she was quite surprised to learn what a high- 
 toned class of people she was entertaining. 
 
 But, then, " business is business." Poor Haldane 
 was but one uncertain lodger, and here were a dozen or 
 iTiore "regulars" arrayed against him. The sagacious 
 woman was not long in climbing to the door of the ob- 
 noxious guest, and her very knock said, " What are you 
 doing here ? " 
 
 Haldane's first thought was, "She is a woman; she 
 will not have the heart to turn me away." He had be- 
 come so weary and disheartened that his pride was fail- 
 ing him, and he was ready to plead for the chance of a 
 little rest. Therefore he opened the door, and invited 
 the landlady to enter in the most conciliating manner. 
 But no such poor chaff would be of any avail with one of 
 Mrs. Gruppins' experience, and looking straight before 
 her, as if addressing no one in particular, she said sen- 
 tentiously : 
 
 " I wish this room vacated within a half hour." 
 
 " If you have the heart of a woman you will not send 
 me out this rainy night. I am weary and sick in body and 
 mind. I wouldn't turn a dog out in the night and storm." 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," said Mrs. 
 Gruppins, turning on him indignantly ; " to think that you 
 should take advantage of a poor and defenseless widow, 
 and me so inexperienced and ignorant of the wicked 
 world." 
 
 " I did not take advantage of your ignorance. I told 
 you who I was, and am able to pay for the room. In the 
 morning I will leave your house, if you have so much 
 objection to my remaining." 
 
 "Why shouldn't I object.'' I never had such as you
 
 144 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 here before. All my boarders" — she added in a louder 
 tone, for the benefit of those who were listening at the foot 
 of the stairs — " all my boarders are peculiarly respectable 
 people, and I would not have them scandalized by your 
 presence here another minute if I could help it." 
 
 " How much do I owe you? " asked Haldane, in a tone 
 that was harsh from its suppressed emotion. 
 
 " I don't want any of your money — I don't want any 
 thing to do with people who are lodged at the expense 
 of the State. If you took money last night, there is no 
 telling what you will take to-night." 
 
 Haldane snatched his hat and rushed from the house, 
 overwhelmed with a deeper and more terrible sense of 
 shame and degradation than he had ever imagined pos- 
 sible. He had become a pariah, and in bitterness of heart 
 was realizing the truth.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE world's verdict— our KNIGHT A CRIMINAL. 
 
 A FEW moments before his interview with the thrifty 
 and respectable Mrs. Gruppins, Haldane had supposed 
 himself too weary to drag one foot after the other in search 
 of another resting-place ; and therefore his eager hope 
 that that obdurate female might not be gifted with the same 
 quality of " in'ards " which Pat M'Cabe ascribed to Mr. 
 Arnot. He had, indeed, nearly reached the limit of en- 
 durance, for had he been in his best and most vigorous 
 condition, a day which taxed so terribly both body and 
 mind would have drained his vitality to the point of ex- 
 haustion. As it was, the previous night's debauch told 
 against him like a term of illness. He had since taken 
 food insufficiently and irregularly, and was, therefore, in 
 no condition to meet the extraordinary demands of the 
 ordeal through which he was passing. Mental distress, 
 moreover, is far more wearing than physical effort ; and 
 his anguish of mind had risen several times during the 
 day almost to frenzy. 
 
 In spite of all this, the sharp and pitiless tongue of 
 Mrs. Gruppins goaded him again to the verge of desper- 
 ation, and he strode rapidly and aimlessly away, through 
 the night and storm, w^ith a wilder tempest raging in his 
 breast. But the gust of feehng died away as suddenly 
 as it had arisen, and left him ill and faint. A telegraph 
 pole was near, and he leaned against it for support. 
 
 " Move on," growled a passing policeman. 
 
 "Will you do me a kindness?" asked Haldane; "I 
 am poor and sick — a stranger. Tell me where I can hire 
 a bed for a small sum." 
 
 145
 
 146 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 The policeman directed him down a side street, say- 
 ing, "You can get a be^ at No. 13, and no questions 
 asked." 
 
 There was unspeakable comfort in the last assurance, 
 for it now seemed that he could hope to find a refuge only 
 in places where " no questions were asked." 
 
 With difficulty the weary youth reached the house, and 
 by paying a small extra sum was able to obtain a wretched 
 little room to himself; but never did storm-tossed and 
 endangered sailors enter a harbor's quiet waters with a 
 greater sense of relief than did Haldane as he crept up 
 into this squalid nook, which would at least give him a 
 little respite from the world's terrible scorn. 
 
 What a priceless gift for the unhappy, the unfortunate, 
 — yes, and for the guilty, — is sleep ! Many seem to think 
 of the body only as a clog, impeding mental action, — as 
 a weight, chaining the spirit down. Were the mind, in 
 its activity, independent of the body — were the wounded 
 spirit unable to forget its pain — could the guilty con- 
 science sting incessantly — then the chief human industry 
 would come to be the erection of asylums for the insane. 
 But by an unfathomable mystery the tireless regal spirit 
 has been blended with the flesh and blood of its servant, 
 the body. In heaven, where there is neither sin nor pain, 
 even the body becomes spiritual ; but on earth, where it 
 so often happens, as in the case of poor Haldane, that to 
 think and to remember is torture, it is a blessed thing 
 that the body, formed from the earth, often becomes 
 heavy as earth, and rests upon the spirit for a few hours 
 at least, like the clods with which we fill the grave. 
 
 The morning of the following day was quite well ad- 
 vanced when Haldane awoke from his long oblivion, 
 and, after regaining consciousness, he lay a full hour 
 longer trying to realize his situation, and to think of some 
 plan by which he might best recover his lost position. 
 As he recalled all that had occurred he began to under-
 
 THE WORLD'S VERDICT. 147 
 
 stand the extreme difficulty of his task, and he even 
 queried whether it were possible for him to succeed. If 
 the respectable would not even give him shelter, how 
 could he hope that they would employ and trust him ? 
 
 After he had partaken of quite a hearty breakfast, 
 however, his fortunes began to wear a less forbidding 
 aspect. Endowed with youth, health, and, as he be- 
 lieved, with more than usual ability, he felt that there 
 was scarcely occasion for despair. Some one would em- 
 ploy him — some one would give him another chance. 
 He would take any respectable work that would give him 
 a foothold, and by some vague, fortunate means, which 
 the imagination of the young always supplies, he would 
 achieve success that would obhterate the memory of the 
 past. Therefore, with flashes of hope in his heart, he 
 started out to seek his fortune, and commenced applying 
 at the various stores and offices of the city. 
 
 So far from giving any encouragement, people were 
 much surprised that he had the assurance to ask to be 
 employed and trusted again. The majority dismissed 
 him coldly and curtly. A few mongrel natures, true to 
 themselves, gave a snarling refusal. Then there were 
 jovial spirits who must have their jest, even though the 
 sensitive subject of it was tortured thereby — men who 
 enjoyed quizzing Haldane before sending him" on, as 
 much as the old inquisitors relished a little recreation 
 with hot pincers and thumb-screws. There were also 
 conscientious people, whose worldly prudence prevented 
 them from giving employment to one so damaged in 
 character, and yet who felt constrained to give some good 
 advice. To this, it must be confessed, Haldane listened 
 with very poor grace, thus extending the impression that 
 he was a rather hopeless subject. 
 
 " Good God ! " he exclaimed, interrupting an old gen- 
 tleman w^ho was indulging in some platitudes to the eflfect 
 that the " way of the transgressor is hard " — " I would
 
 148 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 rather black your boots than hsten to such talk. What 
 I want is work — a chance to live honestly. What's the 
 use of telUng a fell6w not to go. to the devil, and then 
 practically send him to the devil? " 
 
 The old gentleman was somewhat shocked and of- 
 fended, and coldly intimated that he had no need of the 
 young man's services. 
 
 A few spoke kindly and seemed truly sorry for him, 
 but they either had no employment to give, or, on busi- 
 ness principles, felt that they could not introduce among 
 their other assistants one under bonds to appear and be 
 tried for a State-prison offense that was already the same 
 as proved. 
 
 After receiving rebuffs, and often what he regarded as 
 insults, for hours, the young man's hope began to fail 
 him utterly. His face grew pale and haggard, not only 
 from fatigue, but from that which tells disastrously almost 
 as soon upon the body as upon the mind — discourage- 
 ment. He saw that he had not yet fully realized the 
 consequences of his folly. The deep and seemingly im- 
 placable resentment of society was a continued surprise. 
 He was not conscious of being a monster of wickedness, 
 and it seemed to him that after his bitter experience he 
 would rather starve than again touch what was not his 
 own. 
 
 But the trouble is, the world does not give us much 
 credit for what we think, feel, and imagine, even if 
 aware of our thoughts. It is what we do that forms 
 public opinion ; and it was both natural and just that the 
 public should have a very decided opinion of one who 
 had recently shown himself capable of gambling, drunk- 
 enness, and practical theft. 
 
 And yet the probabilities were that if some kind, just 
 man had bestowed upon Haldane both employment and 
 trust, with a chance to rise, his bitter lesson would have 
 made him scrupulously careful to shun his peculiar temp-
 
 THE WORLD'S VERDICT. 149 
 
 tations from that time forward. But the world usually 
 regards one who has committed a crime as a criminal, 
 and treats him as such. It cannot, if it would, nicely 
 calculate the hidden moral state and future chances. It 
 acts on sound generalities, regardless of the exceptions ; 
 and .thus it often happens that men and women who at 
 first can scarcely understand the world's adverse opin- 
 ion, are disheartened by it, and at last come to merit the 
 worst that can be said or thought. 
 
 As, at the time of his first arrest, Haldane had found 
 his eyes drawn by a strange, cruel fascination to every 
 scornful or curious face upon the street, so now he began 
 to feel a morbid desire to know just what people were 
 saying and thinking of him. He purchased both that 
 day's papers and those of the previous day, and, finding 
 a httle out-of-the-way restaurant kept by a foreigner, he 
 "supped full with" — what were to him emphatically — 
 " horrors ; " the dinner and supper combined, which he 
 had ordered, growing cold, in the meantime, and as un- 
 inviting as the place in which it was served. 
 
 His eyes dwelt longest upon those sentences which were 
 the most unmercifully severe, and they seemed to burn 
 their way into his very soul. Was he in truth such a 
 miscreant as the Courier dtscnhtd ? Mrs. Arnot had not 
 shrunk from him as from contamination ; but she was 
 different from all other people that he had known ; and 
 he now remembered, also, that even she always referred 
 to his act in a grave, troubled way, as if both its charac- 
 ter and consequences were serious indeed. 
 
 There was such a cold, leaden despondency burden- 
 ing his heart that he felt that he must have relief of some 
 kind. Although remembering his rash invocation of fatal 
 consequences to himself should he touch again that which 
 had brought him so much evil, he now, with a reckless 
 oath, muttered that he " needed some liquor, and would 
 have it."
 
 150 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Having finished a repast from which he would have 
 turned in disgust before his fortunes had so greatly 
 altered, and having gained a little temporary courage 
 from the more than doubtful brandy served in such a 
 place, he obtained permission to sit by the fire and smoke 
 away the blustering evening, for he felt no disposition to 
 face the world again that day. The German proprietor 
 and his beer-drinking patrons paid no attention to the 
 stranger, and as he sat off on one side by himself at a 
 table, with a mug of lager before him, he was practically 
 as much alone, and as lonely, as if in a desert. 
 
 In a dull, vague way it occurred to him that it was very 
 fitting that those present should speak in a foreign and 
 unknown tongue, and act and look differently from all 
 classes of people formerly known to him. He was in a 
 different world, and it was appropriate that every thing 
 should appear strange and unfamiHar. 
 
 Finding that he could have a room in this same little, 
 dingy restaurant-hotel, where he had obtained his supper, 
 he resolved that he would torture himself no more that 
 night with thoughts of the past or future, but slowly 
 stupefy himself into sleep. ^
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE world's best OFFER — A PRISON. 
 
 After a walk in the sweet April sunshine the follow- 
 ing morning, a hearty breakfast, and a general rallying 
 of the elastic forces of youth, Haldane felt that he had 
 not yet reached the " bnnk of dark despair," 
 
 Indeed, he had an odd sense of pride that he had sur- 
 vived the ordeal of the last two days, and still felt as 
 well as he did. Although it was but an Arab's hfe, in 
 which every man's hand seemed against him, yet he 
 still lived, and concluded that he could continue to live 
 indefinitely. 
 
 He did not go out again, as on the previous day, to 
 seek employment, but sat down and tried to think his 
 way into the future somewhat. 
 
 The first question that presented itself w^as, Should he 
 in any contingency return home to his mother? 
 
 He was not long in deciding adversely, for it seemed 
 to him to involve such a bitter mortification that he felt 
 he would rather starve. 
 
 Should he send to her for money ? 
 
 That would be scarcely less humiliating, for it was 
 equivalent to a confession that he could not even take 
 care of himself, much less achieve all the brave things 
 he had intimated. He was still more averse to going to 
 Mrs. Arnot for what would seem charity to her husband 
 and to every one else who might hear of it. The proba- 
 bility, also, that Laura would learn of such an appeal for 
 aid made him scout the very thought. 
 
 Should he go away among strangers, change his name 
 151
 
 152 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and commence life anew, unburdened by the weight 
 
 which now dragged him down? 
 
 The thought of cutting himself off utterly from all 
 Avhom he knew, or who cared for him, caused a cold, 
 shivering sense of dread. It would, also, be a confes- 
 sion of defeat, an acknowledgment that he could not 
 accomplish what he had promised to himself and to 
 others. He had, moreover, sufficient forethought to per- 
 ceive that any success which he might achieve elsewhere, 
 and under another name, would be such a slight and 
 baseless fabric that a breath from one who now knew 
 him could overturn it. He might lead an honorable life 
 for years, and yet no one would believe him honorable 
 after discovering that he was living under an alias and 
 concealing a crime. If he could build himself up in 
 Hillaton he would be founded on the rock of truth, and 
 need fear no disastrous reverses from causes against 
 which he could not guard. 
 
 Few can be more miserable than those who hold theii 
 fortunes and good name on sufferance — safe only in the 
 power and disposition of others to keep some wretched 
 secret ; and he is but httle better off who fears that every 
 stranger arriving in town may recognize in his face the 
 features of one that, years before, by reason of some dis- 
 graceful act, fled from himself and all who knew him. 
 The more Haldane thought upon the scheme of losing 
 his identity, and of becoming that vague, and, as yet, 
 unnamed stranger, who after years of exile would still be 
 himself, though to the world not himself, the less attract- 
 ive it became. 
 
 He finally concluded that, as he had resolved to re- 
 main in Hillaton, he would keep his resolution, and 
 that, as he had plainly stated his purpose to lift himself 
 up by his own unaided efforts, he would do so if it were 
 possible ; and if it were not, he would live the life of a 
 laborer — a tramp, even— rather than "skulk back," as
 
 THE WORLD'S BEST OFFER— A PRISON. 153 
 
 he expressed it, to those who were once kindred and 
 companions. 
 
 " If I cannot walk erect to their front doors, I will 
 ^lever crawl around to the back entrances. If I ever 
 must take alms to keep from starving, it will be from 
 strangers. I shall never inflict myself as a dead weight 
 and a painfully-tolerated infamy on any one. I was able 
 to get myself into this disgusting slough, and if I haven't 
 brains and pluck enough to get myself out, I will remain 
 at this, my level, to which I have fallen." 
 
 Thus pride still counseled and controlled, and yet it 
 was a kind of pride that inspires something like respect. 
 It proved that there was much good metal in the crude^ 
 misshapen ore of his nature. 
 
 But the necessity of doing something was urgent, for 
 the sum he had been willing to receive from his mother 
 was small, and rapidly diminishing. 
 
 Among the possible activities in which he might en- 
 gage, that of writing for papers and magazines occurred 
 to him, and the thought at once caught and fired his im- 
 agination. The mysteries of the literary world were the 
 least known to him, and therefore it offered the greatest 
 amount of vague promise and indefinite hope. Here a 
 path might open to both fame and fortune. The more 
 he dwelt on the possibility the more it seemed to take the 
 aspect of probability. Under the signature of E. H. he 
 would write thrilling tales, until the public insisted upon 
 knowing the great unknown. Then he could reverse 
 present experience by scorning those who had scorned 
 him. He recalled all that he had ever read about genius 
 toiling in its attic until the world was compelled tO' 
 recognize and do homage to the regal mind. He would 
 remain in seclusion also ; he would burn midnight oil 
 until he should come to be known as Haldane the bril- 
 liant writer instead of Haldane the gambler, drunkard, 
 and thief.
 
 a 54 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 All on fire with his new project, he sallied forth to the 
 nearest news stand, and selected two or three papers and 
 magazines, whose previous interest to him and known 
 popularity suggested that they were the best mediums in 
 -which he could rise upon the public as a literary star, all 
 the more attractive because unnamed and unknown. 
 
 His next proceeding indicated a commendable amount 
 of shrewdness, and proved that his roseate visions re- 
 sulted more from ignorance and inexperience than from 
 innate foolishness. He carefully read the periodicals he 
 had bought, in the hope of obtaining hints and sugges- 
 tions from their contents which would aid him in pro- 
 ducing acceptable manuscripts. Some of the sketches 
 and stories appeared very simple, the style flowing along 
 as smoothly and limpidly as a summer brook through 
 the meadows. He did not see why he could not write in 
 a similar vein, perhaps more excitingly and interestingly. 
 In his partial and neglected course of study he had not 
 given much attention to belles-lettres, and was not aware 
 that the simplicity and lucid purity of thought which 
 made certain pages so easily read were produced by the 
 iDest trained and most cultured talent existing among the 
 regular contributors. 
 
 He spent the evening and the greater part of a sleep- 
 less night in constructing a crude plot of a story, and, 
 having procured writing materials, hastened through an 
 early breakfast, the following morning, in his eagerness 
 to enter on what now seemed a shining path to fame. 
 
 He sat down and dipped his pen in ink. The blank, 
 white page was before him, awaiting his brilliant and 
 "burning thoughts ; but for some reason they did not and 
 would not come. This puzzled him. He could dash off 
 a letter, and write with ease a plain business statement. 
 AVhy could he not commence and go on with his story ? 
 
 " How do those other fellows commence ? " he men- 
 tally queried, and he again carefully read and examined
 
 THE WORLD'S BEST OFFER— A PRISON. 155 
 
 the opening paragraphs of two or three tales that had 
 pleased him. They seemed to commence and go for- 
 ward very easily and naturally. Why could not he do 
 the same ? 
 
 To his dismay he found that he could not. He might 
 as well have sat down and hoped to have deftly and 
 skillfully constructed a watch as to have imitated the 
 style of the stories that most interested him, for he had 
 never formed even the power, much less the habit, of 
 composition. 
 
 After a few labored and inconsequential sentences, 
 which seem.ed like crude ore instead of the molten, burn- 
 ing metal of thought left to cool in graceful molds, he 
 threw aside his pen in despair. 
 
 After staring despondently for a time at the blank 
 page, w^hich now promised to remain as blank as the 
 future then seemed, the fact suddenly occurred to him 
 that even genius often spurred its flagging or dormant 
 powers by stimulants. Surely, then, he, in his pressing 
 emergency, had a right to avail himself of this aid. A 
 little brandy might awaken his imagination, which w-ould 
 then kindle with his theme. 
 
 At any rate, he had no objection to the brandy, and 
 with this inspiration he again resumed his pen. He was 
 soon astonished and delighted with the result, for he 
 found himself writing with ease and fluency. His 
 thoughts seemed to become vivid and powerful, and his 
 story grew rapidly. As body and mind flagged, the po- 
 tent genii in the black bottle again lifted and soared on 
 with him until the marvelous tale was completed. 
 
 He decided to correct the manuscript on the following 
 day, and was so complacent and hopeful over his per- 
 formance that he scarcely noted that he was beginning 
 to feel wretchedly from the inevitable reaction. The 
 next day, with dull and aching head he tried to read 
 what he had written, but found it dreary and disappoint-
 
 156 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ing work. His sentences and paragraphs appeared like 
 clouds from which the light had faded ; but he explained 
 this fact to himself on the ground of his depressed 
 physical state, and he went through his task with dogged 
 persistence. 
 
 He felt better on the following day, and with the aid 
 of the bottle he resolved to give his inventive genius an- 
 other flight. On this occasion he would attempt a longer 
 story — one that would occupy him several days ; and he 
 again stimulated himself up to a condition in which he 
 found at least no lack of words. When he attained what 
 he supposed was his best mood, he read over again the 
 work of the preceding day, and was delighted to find 
 that It now glowed with prismatic hues. In his compla- 
 cency he at once dispatched it to the paper for which it 
 was designed. 
 
 Three or four days of alternate work and brooding 
 passed, and if various and peculiar moods prove the pos- 
 session of genius, Haldane certainly might claim it. Be- 
 tween his sense of misfortune and disgrace, and the fact 
 that his funds were becoming low, on one hand, and his 
 towering hopes and shivering fears concerning his liter- 
 ary ventures, on the other, he was emphatically in what 
 is termed " a state of mind " continuously. These causes 
 alone w^ere sufficient to make mental serenity impossible ; 
 but the after-effects of the decoction from which he ob- 
 tained his inspiration were even worse, and after a week's 
 work the thought occurred to him more than once that 
 if he pursued a literary life, either his genius or that 
 which he imbibed as its spur would consume him utterly. 
 
 By the time the first two stories were finished he found 
 that it would be necessary to supplement the labors of 
 his pen. He would have to wait at least a few days be- 
 fore he could hope for any returns, even though he had 
 urged in his accompanying notes prompt acceptance and 
 remittance for their value.
 
 THE WORLD'S BEST OFFER— A PRISON. 157 
 
 He went to the office of the Evening Spy, the paper 
 which had shown some leniency toward him, and offered 
 his services as writer, or reporter ; and, although taught 
 by harsh experience not to hope for very much, he was 
 a little surprised at the peremptory manner in which his 
 services were declined. His face seemed to ask an ex- 
 planation, and the editor said briefly, 
 
 "We did not bear down very hard on you — it's not 
 our custom ; but both inclination and necessity lead us 
 to require that every one and every thing connected with 
 this paper should be eminently respectable and deserving 
 of respect. Good morning, sir." 
 
 Haldane's pre-eminence consisted only in his lack of 
 respectability ; and after the brave visions of the past 
 week, based on his literary toil, this cool, sharp-cut state- 
 ment of society's opinion quenched about all hope of ever 
 rising by first gaining recognition and employment among 
 those whose position was similar to what his own had 
 been. As he plodded his way back to the miserable little 
 foreign restaurant, his mind began to dwell on this ques- 
 tion, 
 
 " Is there any place in the world for one who has com- 
 mitted a crime, save a prison? "
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MAIDEN AND WOOD-SAWYER. 
 
 Before utterly abandoning all hope of finding em • 
 ployment that should in some small degree preserve an 
 air of respectability, Haldane resolved to give up one 
 more day to the search, and on the following morning 
 he started out and walked until night-fall. He even of- 
 fered to take the humblest positions that would insure 
 him a support and some recognition ; but the record of 
 his action while in Mr. Arnot's employ followed him 
 everywhere, creating sufficient prejudice in every case to 
 lead to a refusal of his apphcation. Some said "No" 
 reluctantly and hesitatingly, as if kindly feelings within 
 took the young man's part ; but they said it, nevertheless. 
 
 For the patient resolution with which he continued to 
 apply to all kinds of people and places, hour after hour, 
 in spite of such disheartening treatment, he deserved 
 much praise; but he did not receive any; and at last, 
 weary and despondent, he returned to his miserable lodg- 
 ings. He was so desperately depressed in body and 
 mind that the contents of the black bottle seemed his 
 only resource. 
 
 Such a small sum now remained that he felt that some- 
 thing must be done instantly. He concluded that his 
 only course now was to go out and pick up any odd bits 
 of work that he could find. He hoped that by working 
 half the time he might make enough to pay for his board 
 ^t his present cheap lodging-place. This would leave 
 him time to continue his writing, and in the course of a 
 week more he would certainly hear from the manuscripts 
 already forwarded. On these he now built nearly all his 
 158
 
 MAIDEN AND WOOD-SAWYEi,. 159 
 
 hope. If they were well received and paid for, he con- 
 sidered his fortunes substantially restored, and fame al- 
 most a certainty in the future. If he could only produce 
 a few more manuscripts, and bridge over the intervening 
 time until he could hear from them, he felt that his chief 
 difficulties would be past. 
 
 Having decided to do a laborer's work, he at once re- 
 solved to exchange his elegant broadcloth for a laborer's 
 suit, and he managed this transfer so shrewdly that he 
 obtained quite a little sum of money in addition. 
 
 It was well that he did replenish his finances somewhat, 
 for his apparently phlegmatic landlord was as wary as a 
 veteran mouser in looking after his small interests. He 
 had just obtained an inkling as to Haldane's identity, 
 and, while he was not at all chary concerning the social 
 and moral standing of his few uncertain lodgers, he pro- 
 posed henceforth that all transactions with the suspicious 
 stranger should be on a strictly cash basis. 
 
 It was the busy spring-time, and labor was in great de- 
 mand. Haldane wandered off to the suburbs, and, as 
 an ordinary laborer, offered his services in cleaning up 
 yards, cutting wood, or forking over a space of garden 
 ground. His stalwart form and prepossessing appear- 
 ance generally secured him a favorable answer, but be- 
 fore he was through with his task he often received a 
 sound scolding for his unskillful and bunghng style of 
 work. But he in part made up by main strength what 
 he lacked in skill, and after two or three days he acquired 
 considerable deftness in his unwonted labors, and felt the 
 better for them. They counteracted the effects of his 
 literary efforts, or, more correctly, his means of inspira- 
 tion in them. 
 
 Thus another week passed, of which he gave three 
 days to the production of two or three more brief manu- 
 scripts, and during the following week he felt sure that 
 he would hear from those first sent.
 
 IGO KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 He wrote throughout the hours of dayhght on Sunday, 
 scarcely leaving his chair, and drank more deeply than 
 usual. In consequence, he felt wretchedly on Monday, 
 and, therefore, strolled off to look for some employment 
 that would not tax his aching head. Hitherto he had 
 avoided all locahties where he would be apt to meet those 
 who knew him ; and by reason of his brief residence in 
 town there were comparatively few who were familiar 
 with his features. He now recalled the fact that he had 
 often seen from his window, while an inmate of Mrs. Ar- 
 not's home, quite a collection of cottages across a small 
 ravine that ran a little back of that lady's residence. He 
 might find some work among them, and he yielded to the 
 impulse to look again upon the place where such rich 
 and abundant happiness had once seemed within his 
 grasp. 
 
 For several days he had been conscious of a growing 
 desire to hear from his mother and Mrs. Arnot, and often 
 found himself wondering how they regarded his mysteri- 
 ous disappearance, or whether reports of his vain inquiry 
 for work had reached them. 
 
 With a pride and resolution that grew obstinate with 
 time and failure, he resolved that he would not communi- 
 cate with them until he had something favorable to tell ; 
 and he hoped, and almost believed, that before many 
 days passed, he could address to them a hterary weekly 
 paper in which they would find, in prominent position, 
 the underscored initials of E. H. Until he could be pre- 
 ceded by the first flashes of fame he would remain in ob- 
 scurity. He would not even let Mrs. Arnot know where 
 he was hiding, so that she might send to him his personal 
 effects left at her house. Indeed, he had no place for 
 them now, and w^as, besides, more morbidly bent than 
 ever on making good the proud words he had spoken. 
 If, in the face of such tremendous odds he could, alone 
 and unaided, with nothing but his hands and brain, win
 
 MAIDEN AND WOOD-SA WYER. 161 
 
 again all and more than he had lost, he could compel 
 the respect and admiration of those who had witnessed 
 his downfall and consequent victorious struggle. 
 
 Was the girl who had inspired his sudden, and, as he 
 had supposed, " undying " passion, forgotten during these 
 trying days? Yes, to a great extent. His self-love was 
 greater than his love for Laura Romeyn. He craved in- 
 tensely to prove that he was no longer a proper object of 
 her scorn. She had rejected him as a slave to " disgust- 
 ing vices " and such he had apparently shown himself to 
 be ; but now he would have been willing to have dipped 
 his pen in his own blood, and have written away his life, 
 if thereby he could have filled her with admiration and 
 regret. Although he scarcely acknowledged it to himself, 
 perhaps the subtlest and strongest impulse to his present 
 course was the hope of teaching her that he was not what 
 she now regarded him. But he was not at that time ca- 
 pable of a strong, true affection for any one, and thougiits 
 of the pretty maiden wounded his pride more than his 
 heart. 
 
 After arriving at the farther bank of the ravine, back 
 of Mrs. Arnot's residence, he sat down for a while, and 
 gave himself up to a very bitter revery. There, in the 
 bright spring sunshine, was the beautiful villa which 
 might have been a second home to him. The gardener 
 was at work among the shrubbery, and the sweet breath 
 of crocuses and hyacinths was floated to him on the 
 morning breeze. There were the windows of his airy, 
 lovely room, in comparison with which the place in which 
 he now slept was a kennel. If he had controlled and 
 hidden his passion, if he had waited and wooed patiently, 
 skillfully, winning first esteem and friendship, and then 
 affection, yonder garden paths might have witnessed 
 many happy hours spent with the one whom he loved as 
 well as he could love any one save himself. But now — 
 and he cursed himself and his folly.
 
 162 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Poor fellow ! He might as well have said, " If I had 
 not been myself, all this might have been as I have im- 
 agined." He had acted naturally, and in accordance 
 with his defective character ; he had been himself, and 
 that was the secret of all his troubles. He sprang up, 
 exclaiming in anger, 
 
 " Mother made a weak fool of me, and I was willing to 
 be a fool. Now we are both reaping our reward." 
 
 He went off among the cottages looking for employ- 
 ment, but found little encouragement. The people were, 
 as a general thing, in humble circumstances, and did 
 their work among themselves. But at last he found, 
 near the ravine, a small dwelling standing quite apart 
 from any others, before which a load of wood had been 
 thrown. The poor woman whose gateway it obstructed 
 was anxious to have it sawed up and carried to her little 
 wood-shed, but was disposed to haggle about the price. 
 
 "Give me w-hat you please," said Haldane, throwing 
 off his coat ; " I take the job ; " and in a few moments 
 the youth who had meditated indefinite heights of 
 "gloomy grandeur" appeared — save to the initiated — as 
 if he had been born a wood-sawyer. 
 
 He w^as driving his saw in the usual strong, dogged 
 manner in which he performed such tasks, when a light 
 step caused him to look up suddenly, and he found him- 
 self almost face to face with Laura Romeyn. He started 
 violently ; the blood first receded from his face, and then 
 rushed tumultuously back. She, too, seemed much sur- 
 prised and startled, and stopped hesitatingly, as if she did 
 not know what to do. But Haldane had no doubt as to 
 his course. He felt that he had no right to speak to her, 
 and that she might regard it as an insult if he did ; there- 
 fore he bent down to his work again with a certain proud 
 humility which Laura, even in her perturbation, did not 
 fail to notice. 
 
 In her diffidence and confusion she continued past him
 
 MAIDEN AND WOOD-SAWYEB. 163 
 
 a few steps, and, although he expected nothing less, the 
 fact that she did not recognize or speak to him cut to 
 his heart with a deeper pain than he had yet suffered. 
 With a gesture similar to that which he made when she 
 saw him on the way to prison, he dashed his hat down 
 over his eyes, and drove his saw through the wood with 
 savage energy. 
 
 She looked at him doubtfully for a moment, then yield- 
 ing to her impulse, came to his side. His first intimation 
 of her presence was the scarcely heard tones of her voice 
 mingling with the harsh rasping of the saw. 
 
 " Will you not speak to me, Mr. Haldane ? " she asked. 
 
 He dropped his saw, stood erect, trembled slightly, but 
 did not answer or even raise his eyes to her face. His 
 pain was so great he was not sure of his self-control. 
 
 " Perhaps," she added timidly, " you do not wish me 
 to speak to you." 
 
 " I now have no right to speak to you, Miss Romeyn," 
 he answered in a tone which his suppressed feehngs ren- 
 dered constrained and almost harsh. 
 
 " But I feel sorry for you," said she quickly, "and so 
 does my aunt, and she greatly — " 
 
 " I have not asked for your pity," interrupted Hal- 
 dane, growing more erect and almost haughty in his 
 bearing, quite oblivious for a moment of his shirt-sleeves 
 and buck-saw. What is more, he made Laura forget 
 them also, and his manner embarrassed her greatly. She 
 was naturally gentle and timid, and she deferred so far 
 to his mood that one would have thought that she was 
 seeking to obtain kindness rather than to confer it. 
 
 "You misunderstand me," said she: "I do respect 
 you for the brave effort you are making. I respect jou 
 for doing this work. You cannot think it strange, though, 
 that I am sorry for all that has happened. But I did not 
 intend to speak of myself at all — of Mrs. Arnot ratl>er, 
 and your mother. They do not know where to find you,
 
 164 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and wish to see and hear from you very much. Mrs. 
 Arnot has letters to you from your mother." 
 
 " The time shall come — it may not be so very far dis- 
 tant, Miss Romeyn — when it will be no condescension on 
 your part to speak to me," said Haldane loftily, ignoring 
 all that related to Mrs. Arnot and his mother, even if he 
 heard it. 
 
 "I do not feel it to be condescension now," replied 
 Laura, with almost the frank simplicity of a child, " 1 
 cannot help feeling sympathy for you, even though you 
 are too proud to receive it." Then she added, with a 
 trace of dignity and maidenly pride, •' Perhaps when you 
 have reahzed your hopes, and have become rich or fa- 
 mous, I may not choose to speak to you. But it is not 
 my nature to turn from any one in misfortune, much less 
 any one whom I have known well." 
 
 He looked at her steadily for a moment, and his Hp 
 quivered slightly with his softening feeling. 
 
 "You do not scorn me, then, like the rest of the 
 world," said he in a low tone. 
 
 Tears stood in the young girl's eyes as slie answered, 
 "Mr. Haldane, I do feel deeply for you; I know you 
 have done very wrong, but that only makes you sufier 
 more." 
 
 "How can you overlook the wrong of my action? 
 Others think I am not fit to be spoken to," he asked, in 
 a still lower tone. 
 
 "I do not overlook the wrong," said she, gravely ; 
 " it seems strange and terrible to me ; and yet I do feel 
 sorry for you, from the depths of my heart, and I wish I 
 could help you." 
 
 " You have helped me," said he, impetuously ; " you 
 have spoken the first truly kind word that has blessed 
 me since I bade mother good-by. I was beginning to 
 hate the hard-hearted animals known as men and women. 
 They trample me down Ifke a herd of buffaloes."
 
 3IAIDEN AND WOOD-SA WYER. 165 
 
 ' ' Won't you go with me and see Mrs. Arnot ? She has 
 letters for you, and she greatly wishes to see you." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 " I have the same as made a vow that I will never ap- 
 proach any one to whom I held my old relations until I 
 regain at least as good a name and position as I lost. I 
 little thought we should meet soon again, if ever, and still 
 less that you would speak to me as you have done." 
 
 " I had been takmg some dehcacies from aunde to a 
 poor sick woman, and was just returning," said Laura, 
 blushing shghtly. "I think your vow is very wrong. 
 Your pride brings grief to your mother, and pain to your 
 good friend, Mrs, Arnot." 
 
 "I cannot help it," said he, in a manner that was 
 gloomy and almost sullen ; "I got myself into this 
 slough, and I intend to get myself out of it. I shall not 
 take alms from any one." 
 
 "A mother cannot give her son alms," said Laura 
 simply. 
 
 "The first words my mother said to me when my 
 heart was breaking were, 'You have disgraced me.' 
 When I have accomphshed that which will honor her I 
 will return." 
 
 ' ' I know from what auntie said that your mother did 
 not mean any unkindness, and you surely know that you 
 have a friend in Mrs. Arnot." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot has been a true friend, and no small part 
 of my punishment is the thought of how I have requited 
 her kindness. I reverence and honor her more than any 
 other woman, and I did not know that you were so much 
 like her. You both seem different from all the rest of 
 the world. But I shall take no advantage of her kindness 
 or yours." 
 
 "Mr. Haldane," said Laura gravely, but with rising 
 color, " I am not a woman. In years and feelings I am
 
 166 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 scarcely more than a child. It may not be proper or 
 conventional for me to stop and talk so long to you, but 
 I have acted from the natural impulse of a young girl 
 brought up in a secluded country home. I shall return 
 thither to-morrow, and I am glad I have seen you once 
 more, for I wished you to know that I did feel sorry for 
 you, and that I hoped you might succeed. I greatly 
 wish you would see Mrs. Arnot, or let me tell her where 
 she can see you, and send to you what she wishes. She 
 has heard of you once or twice, but does not know where 
 to find you. Will you not let me tell her ? " 
 
 He shook his head decidedly. 
 
 "Well, then, good-by," said she kindly, and was 
 about to depart. 
 
 "Wait," he said hastily ; "will you do me one small 
 favor?" 
 
 " Yes, if I ought." 
 
 " This is my father's watch and chain," he continued, 
 taking them off. "They are not safe with me in my 
 present life. I do not wish to have it in my power to 
 take them to a pawn-shop. I would rather starve first, 
 and yet I would rather not be tempted. I can't explain. 
 You cannot and should not know any thing about the 
 world in which I am living. Please give these to Mrs. 
 Arnot, and ask her to keep them till I come fo'- Liiem ; or 
 she can send them, with the rest of my effects, to my 
 mother. I have detained you too long already. What- 
 ever may be my fate, I shall always remember you with 
 the deepest gratitude and respect." 
 
 There was distress in Laura's face as he spoke ; but 
 she took the watch and chain without a word, for she 
 saw that he was fully resolved upon his course. 
 
 " I know that Mrs. Arnot will respect my wish to re- 
 main in obscurity until I can come with a character dif- 
 fering from that which I now bear. Your life would be 
 a very happy one, Miss Romeyn, if my wishes could
 
 MAIDEN AND WOOD-SAWYER. 167 
 
 make it so;" and the wood-sawyer bowed his farewell 
 with the grace and dignity of a gentleman, in spite of his 
 coarse laborer's garb. He then resumed his work, to 
 the great relief of the woman, who had caught glimpses 
 of the interview from the window, wondering and sur- 
 mising why the "young ieddy from the big house" 
 should have so much to say to a wood-sawyer. 
 
 " If she had a-given him a tract upon leavin', it would 
 a-seemed more nateral like," she explained to a crony 
 the latter part of the day. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot did respect Haldane's desire to be left ta 
 himself until he came in the manner that his pride dic- 
 tated ; but, after hearing Laura's story, she cast many a 
 wistful glance toward the one who, in spite of his grave 
 faults and weakness, deeply interested her, and she 
 sighed, 
 
 " He must learn by hard experience." 
 
 " Did I do wrong in speaking to him, auntie? " Laura 
 asked. 
 
 " I do not think so. Your motive was natural and 
 kindly ; and yet I would not like you to meet him again 
 until he is wholly different in character, if that dme ever 
 comes."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MAGNANIMOUS MR. SHRUMPF. 
 
 After the excitement caused by his unexpected inter- 
 view with Laura subsided, and Haldane was able to 
 think it over quietly, it seemed to him that he had burned 
 his ships behind him. He must now make good his 
 proud words, for to go " crawling back " after what he 
 had said to-day, and, of all persons, to the one whose 
 opinion he most valued — this would be a humiliation the 
 thought of which even he could not endure. 
 
 Having finished his task, he scarcely glanced at the 
 pittance which the woman reluctantly gave him, and 
 went straight to the city post-office. He was so agitated 
 v;ith conflicting hopes and fears that his voice trembled 
 as he asked if there were any letters addressed to E, H., 
 and he was so deeply disappointed that he was scarcely 
 willing to take the careless negative given. He even 
 went to the express office, in the vague hope that the 
 wary editors had remitted through them ; and the leaden 
 weight of despondency grew heavier at each brisk state- 
 nent : 
 
 " Nothing for E. H." 
 
 He was so weary and low-spirited when he reached his 
 dismal lodgings that he felt no disposition to either eat or 
 drink, but sat down in the back part of the wretched, 
 musty saloon, and, drawing his hat over his eyes, he 
 gave himself up to bitter thoughts. With mental impre- 
 cations he cursed himself that he had not better under- 
 stood the young girl who once had been his companion. 
 Never before had she seemed so beautiful as to-day, and 
 she had revealed a forming character as lovely as her 
 168
 
 MAGXAXniOUS MR. SHBUMPF. 169 
 
 person. She was like Mrs. Arnot — the woman who 
 seemed to him perfect — and what more could he say in 
 her praise? And yet his folly had placed between them 
 an impassable gulf. He was not misled by her kindness, 
 for he remembered her words, and now believed them, 
 " If I ever love a man he will be one that I can look up 
 to and respect." If he could only have recognized her 
 noble tendencies he might have resolutely set about be- 
 coming such a man. If his character had been pleasing 
 to her, his social position would have given him the right 
 to have aspired to her hand. Why had he not had suf- 
 ficient sense to have realized that she was young — much 
 too young to understand his rash, hasty passion? Why 
 could he not have learned from her pure, delicate face 
 that she might possibly be won by patient and manly de- 
 votion^ but would be forever repelled from the man who 
 wooed her like a Turk ? 
 
 In the light of experience he saw his mistakes. From 
 his present depth he looked up, and saw the inestimable 
 vantage ground which he once possessed. In his deep 
 despondency he feared he never would regain it, and 
 that his hopes of literary success would prove delusive. 
 
 Regret like a cold, November wind, swept through all 
 his thoughts and memories, and there seemed nothing 
 before him but a chill winter of blight and failure that 
 would have no spring. 
 
 But he was not left to indulge his miserable mood very 
 long, for his mousing landlord — having finally learned 
 who Haldane was, and all the unfavorable facts and 
 comments with which the press had abounded — now con- 
 cluded that he could pounce upon him in such a way 
 that something would be left in his claws before the vic- 
 tim could escape. 
 
 That very morning Haldane had paid for his board to 
 date, but had thoughtlessly neglected to have a witness 
 or take a receipt. The grizzled grimalkin who kept the
 
 170 KNUniT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURT. 
 
 <lcn, and thrived as much by his small filchings as from 
 his small profits, had purred to himself, " Very goot, 
 very goot," on learning that Haldane's word would not 
 be worth much with the public or in court ; and no yel- 
 low-eyed cat ever waited and watched for his prey with 
 a quieter and cooler deliberation than did Weitzel 
 ijhrumpf, the host of the dingy little hotel. 
 
 After Haldane appeared he delayed until a few cronies 
 •whom he could depend upon had dropped in, and then, 
 in an off-hand way, stepped up to the despondent youth, 
 and said : 
 
 " I zay, mister, you been here zvvei week ; I want you 
 bay me now." 
 
 " What do you mean?" asked Haldane, looking up 
 •with an uncomprehending stare. 
 
 •' Dis is vot I means ; you buts me off long nuff. I 
 vants zvvei weeks' bort." 
 
 " I paid you for every thing up to this morning, and I 
 have had nothing since." 
 
 " O, you have baid me — strange I did not know, Vill 
 you bays now ven I does know? " 
 
 " I tell you I have paid you ! " said Haldane, starting 
 lip. 
 
 " Veil, veil, show me der receipt, an I says not von 
 vort against him." 
 
 "You did not give me a receipt." 
 
 " No, I tinks not — not my vay to give him till I gits de 
 tmoneys." 
 
 " You are an unmitigated scoundrel. I won't pay you 
 another cent." 
 
 "Lock dat door, Carl," said the landlord, coolly, to 
 one of his satellites. " Now, Mister Haldane, you bays, 
 •or you goes to jail. You has been dare vonce, an I'll 
 but you dare dis night if you no bays me." 
 
 "Gentlemen, I appeal to you to prevent this down- 
 right villainy," cried Haldane.
 
 MAGNANIMOUS 3IR. SHRUMPF. Ill 
 
 " I sees no villainy," said one of the lookers-on, stol- 
 idly. " You shows your receipt, and he no touch you." 
 
 " I neglected to take ?. receipt. I did not know I was 
 dealing with a thief." 
 
 "Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the landlord; "he tinks 1 
 vas honest like himself, who vas jus' out of jail! " 
 
 "I won't pay you twice," said Haldane doggedly. 
 
 "Carl, call de policeman, den." 
 
 " Wait a moment ; your rascality will do you no good,, 
 and may get you into trouble. I have very little money 
 left." 
 
 " Den you can leave your vatch till you brings de 
 money." 
 
 " Ah, thank Heaven ! that is safe, and beyond your 
 clutches." 
 
 " In a pawn-shop ? or vas he stolen, like de tousand 
 dollar, and you been made give him up? " 
 
 Haldane had now recovered himself sufficiently to 
 reahze that he was in an ugly predicament. He was not 
 sufficiently familiar with the law to know how much 
 power his persecutor had, but feared, with good reason,, 
 that some kind of a charge could be trumped up which 
 would lead to his being locked up for the night. Then- 
 would follow inevitably another series of paragraphs in 
 the papers, deepening the dark hues in which they had 
 already portrayed his character. He could not endure 
 the thought that the last knowledge of him that Laura 
 carried away with her from Hillaton should be that he 
 was again in jail, charged with trying to steal his board 
 and lodging from a poor and ignorant foreigner ; for he 
 foresaw that the astute Shrumpf, his German landlord, 
 would appear in the police court in the character of an 
 injured innocent. He pictured the disgust upon her face 
 as she saw his name in the vile connection which this 
 new arraignment would occasion, and he felt that he 
 must escape it if possible. Although enraged at
 
 172 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Shrumpf's false charge, he was cool enough lo remember 
 that he had nothing to oppose to it save his own unsup- 
 ported word ; and what was that worth in Hillaton ? The 
 public would even be inclined to believe the opposite of 
 Avhat he affirmed. Therefore, by a great effort, he re- 
 gained his self-control, and said firmly and quietly : 
 
 " Shrumpf, although you know I have paid you, I am 
 yet in a certain sense within your power, since I did not 
 take your receipt. I have not much money left, but 
 after I have taken out fifty cents for my supper and bed 
 you can take all the rest. My watch is in the hands of a 
 friend, and you can't get that, and you can't get any 
 more than I have by procuring my arrest ; so take your 
 choice. I don't want to have trouble with you, but I 
 won't go out penniless and spend the night in the street, 
 and if you send for a policeman I will make you all the 
 trouble I can, and I promise you it will not be a little." 
 
 Herr Shrumpf, conscious that he was on rather deli- 
 cate ground, and remembering that he was already in 
 bad odor with the police authorities, assumed a great 
 show of generosity. 
 
 " I vill not be tough," he said, " ven a man's boor and 
 does all vat he can ; I knows my rights, and I stands up 
 for him, but ven I gits him den I be Hke von leetle lamb. 
 I vill leave you tree quarter dollar, and you bays der 
 rest vat you have, and ve says nothing more 'bout 
 him." 
 
 "You are right — the least said the better about this 
 transaction. I've been a fool, and you are a knave, and 
 that is all there is to say. Here are seventy-five cents, 
 which I keep, and there are four dollars, which is all I 
 have — every cent. Now^ unlock your door and let me 
 out." 
 
 " I tinks you has more." 
 
 " You can search my pockets if you wish. If you do, 
 I call upon these men present to witness the act, for, as I
 
 3IAGXANniOUS JIB. SHRUMPF. 173 
 
 have said, if you go beyond a certain point I will make 
 you trouble, and justly, too." 
 
 " Nah, nah ! vat for I do so mean a ting ? You but 
 your hand in my bocket ven you takes my dinners, my 
 lagers, and my brandies, but I no do vat no shentlemens 
 does. You can go, and ven you brings de full moneys 
 for zwei weeks' bort I gives you receipt for him." 
 
 Haldane vouchsafed no reply, but hastened away, as 
 a fly would escape from a spider's web. The episode, 
 intensely disagreeable as it was, had the good effect of 
 arousmg him out of the paralysis of his deep despond- 
 ency. Besides, he could not help congratulating him- 
 self that he had avoided another arrest and all the 
 wretched experience which must have followed. 
 
 He concluded that there was no other resource for him 
 that night save " No. 13," the lodging-house in the side 
 street where "no questions were asked;" and, having 
 stolen into another obscure restaurant, he obtained such 
 a supper as could be had for twenty-five cents. He then 
 sought his former miserable refuge, and, as he could not 
 pay extra for a private room on this occasion — for he 
 must keep a little money for his breakfast — there was 
 nothing for him, therefore, but to obtain what rest he 
 could in a large, stifling room, half filled with miserable 
 waifs like himself. He managed to get a bed near a 
 window, which he raised slightly, and fatigue soon 
 brought oblivion.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A MAN WHO HATED HIMSELF. 
 
 The light of the following day brought little hope or 
 courage ; but Haldane started out, after a meager break- 
 fast, to find some means of obtaining a dinner and a 
 place to sleep. He was not as successful as usual, and 
 noon had passed before he found any thing to do. 
 
 As he was plodding wearily along through a suburb he 
 heard some one behind a high board fence speaking so 
 loudly and angrily that he stopped to listen, and was not 
 a little surprised to find that the man was talking to him- 
 self. For a few moments there was a sound of a saw, 
 and when it ceased, a harsh, querulous voice commenced 
 again : 
 
 " A-a-h " — it would seem that the man thus given to 
 soliloquy often began and finished his sentences with a 
 vindictive and prolonged guttural sound hke that here 
 indicated — ''Miserable hand at sawin' wood! Why 
 don't you let some one saw it that knows how ? Tryin' 
 to save a half dollar, when you know it'll give you the 
 rheumatiz, and cost ten in doctor bills ! 'Nother thing ; 
 it's mean — mean as dirt. You know there's poor devils 
 M-ho need the work, and you're cheatin' 'em out of it. 
 But it's just like yer ! A-a-h ! " and then the saw began 
 again. 
 
 Haldane was inclined to believe that this irascible 
 stranger was as providential as the croaking ravens that 
 fed the prophet, and he promptly sought the gate and en- 
 tered. An old man looked up in some surprise. He was 
 short in stature and had the stoop of one who is bending 
 174
 
 A MAN WHO HATED HIMSELF. 175 
 
 under the weight of years and infirmities. His features 
 were as withered and brown as a russet apple that had 
 been kept long past its season, and his head was sur- 
 mounted by a shock of white locks that bristled out in all 
 directions, as if each particular hair was on bad terms 
 with its neighbors. Curious seams and wrinkles gave the 
 continuous impression that the old gentleman had just 
 swallowed something very bitter, and was making a wry 
 face over it. But Haldane was in no mood for the study 
 of physiognomy and character, however interesting a 
 subject he might stumble upon, and he said, 
 
 " I am looking for a little work, and with your permis- 
 sion I will saw that wood for whatever you are willing to 
 pay." 
 
 " That won't be much." 
 
 " It will be enough to get a hungry man a dinner." 
 
 " Haven't you had any dinner? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why didn't you ask for one, then ? " 
 
 " Why should I ask you for a dinner?" 
 
 " Why shouldn't you ? If I be a tight-fisted man, I'm 
 not mean enough to refuse a hungry man." 
 
 " Give me some work, and I can buy my dinner." 
 
 " What's your name ? " 
 
 " Egbert Haldane." 
 
 *' Ah ha ! That name's been in the papers lately." 
 
 " Yes, and / have been in jail." 
 
 " And do you expect me to have a man around that's 
 been in jail ? " 
 
 "No; I don't expect any humanity from any human 
 being that knows anything about me. I am treated as if 
 I were the devil himself, and hadn't the power or wish 
 to do anything save rob and murder. The public should 
 keep such as I am in prison the rest of our lives, or else 
 cut our throats. But this sending us out in the world to 
 starve, and to be kicked and cuffed during the process,
 
 176 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 is scarcely in keeping with the Bible civiUzation they are 
 always boasting of." 
 
 He spoke recklessly and bitterly, and his experience 
 made his words appear to him only too true. But his 
 shriveled and shrunken auditor grinned appreciatively, 
 and said, with more than his usual vindictive emphasis, 
 
 " A-a-h! that's the right kind of talk. Now you're 
 gittin' past all this make-believin' to the truth. We're a 
 cussed mean set — we folks who go to church and read 
 the Bible, and then do just what the devil tells us, 
 a-helpin' him along all the time. Satan's got a strong grip 
 on you, from all I hear, and we're all a-helpin' him keep 
 it. You've gone halfway to the devil, and all the good 
 people tell you to go the rest of the way, for they won't 
 have any thing to do with you. Hain't that the way ? " 
 
 " O, no," said Haldane with a bitter sneer ; " some of 
 the good people to whom you refer put themselves out so 
 far as to give me a httle advice." 
 
 " What was it wuth to you ? Which would you ruther 
 — some good advice from me, or the job of sawin' the 
 wood there ? " 
 
 " Give me the saw — no matter about the advice," said 
 Haldane, throwing off his coat. 
 
 "A-a-h ! wasn't I a fool to ask that question ? Well, 
 I don't belong to the good people, so go ahead — I don't 
 s'pose you know much about sawin' wood, bro't up as 
 you've been ; but you can't do it wuss than me. I don't 
 belong to any one. What I was made for I can't see, 
 unless it is to be a torment to myself. Nobody can stand 
 me. I can't stand myself. I've got a cat and dog that 
 will stay wnth me, and sometimes I'll git up and kick 'em 
 jest for the chance of cussin' myself for doin' it." 
 
 " And yet you are the first man in town that has shown 
 me any practical kindness," said Haldane, placing an- 
 other stick on his saw-buck. 
 
 " Well, I kinder do it out o' spite to myself. There's
 
 A MAN WHO HATED HIMSELF. Ill 
 
 somethin' inside of me savin' all the time, ' Why are you 
 spendin' time and money on this young scape-grace ? 
 It'll end in your havin' to give him a dinner, for you 
 can't be so blasted mean as to let him go without it, and 
 yet all the time you're wishin' that you needn't do it," 
 
 " Well, you need not," said Haldane. 
 
 " Yes, I must, too." 
 
 " All I ask of you is what you think this work is worth. " 
 
 " Weil, that ain't all I ask of my confounded old self. 
 Here, you're hungry you say — s'pose you tell the truth 
 sometimes ; here you're down, and all the respectable 
 people sittin' down hard on you ; here you are in the 
 devil's clutches, and he's got you halfway toward the 
 brimstone, and I'm grudgin' you a dinner, even when I 
 know I've got to give it to you. That's what I call bein' 
 mean and a fool both. A-a-h ! " 
 
 Haldane stopped a moment to indulge in the first 
 laugh he had enjoyed since his arrest. 
 
 " I hope you will pardon me, my venerable friend," 
 said he ; " but you have a rather strangely honest way 
 of talking." « 
 
 " I'm old, but I ain't venerable. j\Iy name is Jeremiah 
 Growther," was the snarling reply. 
 
 " I'm afraid you have too much conscience, ^\r. 
 Growther. It won't let you do comfortably what others 
 do as a matter of course." 
 
 " I've nothin* to do with other people. I know what's 
 right, and I'm all the time hatin' to do it. That's the 
 mean thing about me which I can't stand. A-a-h ! " 
 
 " I'm sorry my coming has made you so out of sorts 
 with yourself." 
 
 " If it ain't you it's somethin' else. I ain't more out of 
 sorts than usual." 
 
 " Well, you'll soon be rid of me — I'll be through in an 
 hour." 
 
 " Yes, and here it is the middle of the afternoon, and
 
 178 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 you haven't had your dinner yet, and for all I know, no 
 breakfast nuther. I was precious careful to have both of 
 mine, and find it very comfortable standin' here a-growlin' 
 while you're workin' on an empty stomach. But it's just 
 like me. A-a-h ! I'll call you in a few minutes, and I 
 won't pay you a cent unless you come in ; " and the old 
 man started for the small dilapidated cottage which he 
 shared with the cat and dog that, as he stated, managed 
 to worry along with him. 
 
 But he had not taken many steps before he stumbled 
 slightly against a loose stone, and he stopped for a mo- 
 ment, as if he could find no language equal to the occa- 
 sion, and then commenced such a tirade of abuse with 
 his poor weazen little self as its object, that one would 
 naturally feel like taking sides with the decrepit body 
 against the vindictive spirit. Haldane would have 
 knocked a stranger down had he said half as much to 
 the old gentleman, who seemed bent on befriending him 
 after his own odd fashion. But the irate old man finished 
 his objurgation with the words : 
 
 "What's one doin' above ground who can't lift his 
 foot over a stone only an inch high ? A-a-h ! " and then 
 he went on, and disappeared in the house, from the open 
 door of which not long after came the savory odor of 
 coffee. 
 
 Partly to forget his miserable self in his employer's 
 strange manner, and partly because he was almost faint 
 from hunger, Haldane concluded to accept this first 
 invitation to dine out in Hillaton, resolving that he would 
 do his queer host some favor to make things even. 
 
 " Come in," shouted Mr. Growther a few minutes 
 later. 
 
 Haldane entered quite a large room, which presented 
 an odd aspect of comfort and disorder. 
 
 " There's a place to wash your hands, if you think it's 
 wuth while. I don't often, but I hope there's few like
 
 A MAN WHO HATED HUISELF, 179 
 
 me," said the busy host, hfting the frying-pan from some 
 coals, and emptying from it a generous sHce of ham and 
 three or four eggs on a platter. 
 
 " I like your open fire-place," said Haldane, looking 
 curiously around the hermitage as he performed his ab- 
 lutions. 
 
 "That's a nutber of my weaknesses. I know a stove 
 would be more convenient and economical, but I hate 
 all improvements." 
 
 " One would think, from what you said, your cat and 
 dog had a hard time of it ; but two more sleek, fat, and 
 lazy animals I never saw." 
 
 "No thanks to me. I s'pose they've got clear con- 
 sciences." 
 
 As the table began to fairly groan with good things, 
 Haldane said, 
 
 " Look here, IMr. Growther, are you in the habit of 
 giving disreputable people such a dinner as that ? " 
 
 " If it's good enough for me, it's good enough for 
 you," was the tart reply. 
 
 " O, I'm not finding fault ; I only wanted you to know 
 that I would be grateful for much less." 
 
 " I'm not doin' it to please you, but to spite myself." 
 
 " Have your own way, of course," said Haldane, 
 laughing ; " it's a little odd, though, that your spite 
 against yourself should mean so much practical kindness 
 to me." 
 
 " Hold on ! " cried his host, as Haldane was about to 
 attack the viands ; " ain't you goin' to say grace ? " 
 
 " Well," said the young man, somewhat embarrassed, 
 " I would rather you would say it for me." 
 
 " I might as well eat your dinner for you." 
 
 " Mr. Growther, you are an unusually honest man, 
 and I think a kind one ; so I am not going to act out any 
 lies before you. Although your dinner is the best one I 
 have seen for many a long day, or am likely to see, yet.
 
 180 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 to tell you the truth, I could swear over it easier than I 
 could pray over it." 
 
 " A-a-h ! that's the right spirit ; that's the way I ought 
 to feel. Now you see what a mean hypocrite I am. I'm 
 no Christian — far from it — and yet I always have a 
 sneakin' wish to say grace over my victuals. As if it 
 would do any body any good ! If I'd jest swear over 
 'em, as you say, then I would be consistent." 
 
 " Are you in earnest in all this strange talk ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am ; I hate myself." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I know all about, myself. A-a-h ! " 
 
 " How many poor, hungry people have you fed since 
 the year opened ? " 
 
 " Your question shows me jest what I am. I could 
 tell you within three or four. I found myself a-countin' 
 of 'em up and a-gloryin' in it all the tother night, takin* 
 credit to myself for givin' away a few victuals after I had 
 had plenty myself. Think of a man gittin' self-righteous 
 over givin' to some poor fellow-critters what he couldn't 
 eat himself! If that ain't meanness, what is it? A-a-h ! " 
 
 " But you haven't told me how many you have fed." 
 
 " No, and I ain't a-goin' to — ^jest to spite myself. I 
 want to tell you, and to take credit for it, but I'll head 
 myself off this time." 
 
 " But you could eat these things which you are serving 
 to me — if not to-day, why, then to-morrow," 
 
 " To-morrow's income will provide for to-morrow. The 
 Lord shows He's down on this savin' and hoardin' up of 
 things, for He makes 'em get musty right away ; and if 
 any thing spiles on my hands I'm mad enough to bite 
 myself in two." 
 
 " But if you treat all stragglers as you do me, you do 
 not give away odds and ends and what's left over. This 
 coffee is fine old Java, and a more delicate ham I never 
 tasted."
 
 A MAN WHO HATED HIMSELF. 181 
 
 " Now you hit me twice. I will have the best for my- 
 self, instead of practicin* self-denial and economy. Then 
 I'm always wantin' to get some second-hand victuals to 
 give away, but I daresn't. You see I read the Bible 
 sometimes, and it's the most awfully oncomfortable book 
 that ever was written. You know what the Lord says in 
 it — or you ought to — about what we do for the least of 
 these His brethren ; that means such as you, only you're 
 a sort of black sheep in the family ; and if words have 
 any sense at all, the Lord takes my givin' you a dinner 
 the same as if I gave it to Him. Now s'pose the Lord 
 came to my house, as He did to Mary and Martha's, and I 
 should git Him up a shmpsy dinner of second-hand victuals, 
 and stand by a-chuckhn' that I had saved twenty-five 
 cents on it, wouldn't that be meanness itself? Some 
 time ago I had a ham that I couldn't and wouldn't eat, 
 and they wouldn't take it back at the store, so I got some 
 of the Lord's poor brethren to come to dinner, and I 
 palmed it off on them. But I had to cuss myself the 
 whole evenin' to pay up for it ! A-a-h ! " 
 
 "By Jove!" cried Haldane, dropping his knife and 
 fork, and looking admiringly at his host, who stood on 
 the hearth, running his fingers through his shock of white 
 hair, his shriveled and bristling aspect making a marked 
 contrast with his sleek and lazy cat and dog — " by Jove, 
 you are what I call a Christian ! " 
 
 "Now, look here, young man," said Mr. Growther, 
 wrathfuUy, "though you are under no obligations to me, 
 you've got no business makin' game of me and callin' me 
 names, and I won't stand it. You've got to be civil and 
 speak the truth while you're on my premises, whether 
 you want to or no." 
 
 Haldane shrugged his shoulders, laughed, and made 
 haste with his dinner, for with such a gusty and variable 
 host he might not get a chance to finish it. As he glanced 
 around the room, however, and saw how cozy and invit-
 
 182 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 intj it might be made by a little order and homelike 
 arrangement, he determined to fix it up according to his 
 own ideas, if he could accomplish it without actually 
 coming to blows with the occupant. 
 
 " Who keeps house for you ?" he asked. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you nobody could stand me ! " 
 
 " Will you stand me for about half an hour while I fix 
 up this room for you ? " 
 
 "No! •• 
 
 "What will you do if I attempt it?" 
 
 " I'll set the dog on you." 
 
 "Nothing worse?" asked Haldane, with a laughing 
 glance at the lazy cur. 
 
 " You might take something." 
 
 An expression of sharp pain crossed the young man's 
 face ; the sunshine faded out of it utterly, and he said in 
 a cold, constrained voice, as he rose from the table, 
 
 " O, I forgot for a moment that I am a thief in the 
 world's estimation." 
 
 "That last remark of mine was about equal to a kick, 
 wasn't it? " 
 
 " A little worse." 
 
 " Ain't you used to 'em yet ? " 
 
 " I ought to be." 
 
 " Why, do many speak out as plain as that ? " 
 
 " They act it out just as plainly. Since you don't trust 
 me, you had better watch me, lest I put some cord-wood 
 in my pocket." 
 
 " What do you want to do? " 
 
 " If the world is going to insist upon it that I am a 
 scoundrel to the end of the chapter, I want to find some 
 deep water, and get under it," was the reckless reply. 
 
 " A-a-h ! Didn't I say we respectable people and the 
 devil was in partnership over you ? He wants to get 
 you under deep water as soon as possible, and we're all 
 a-helpin' him along. Young man I am afraid of you.
 
 A 3IAX WHO HATED HIMSELF. 183 
 
 like the rest, and it seems to me that I think more of my 
 oid duds here than of your immortal soul that the devil 
 has almost got. But I'm goin' to spite him and myself 
 for once. I'm goin' down town after the evenin' paper, 
 and, instead of lockin' up, as I usually do, I shall leave 
 you in charge. I know it's risky, and I hate to do it, but 
 it seems to me that you ought ter have sense enough to 
 know that if you take all I've got you would be jest that 
 much wuss off ; " and before Haldane could remonstrate 
 or reply he took a curiously twisted and gnarled cane 
 that resembled himself and departed.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MR. GROWTHER BECOMES GIGANTIC. 
 
 Haldane Avas SO surprised at Mr. Growther's unex- 
 pected course that the odd old man was out of the gate 
 before the situation was fully realized. His first impulse 
 was to follow, and say that he would not be left alone in 
 circumstances that might compromise him ; but a second 
 thought assured him that he was past being compromised. 
 So he concluded to fall in with his host's queer humor, 
 and try to prove himself worthy of trust. He cleared 
 away his dinner with as much deftness as could be ex- 
 pected of one engaging in an unusual task, and put every 
 thing in its place, or what should be its place. He next 
 found a broom, and commenced sweeping the room, 
 which unwonted proceeding aroused the slumbering cat 
 and dog, and they sat up and stared at the stranger with 
 unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 The cat looked on quietly and philosophically, acting 
 on the generally received principle of the world, of not 
 worrying until her own interests seemed threatened. But 
 the dog evidently thought of the welfare of his absent 
 master, and had a vague troubled sense that something 
 was wrong. He waddled up to the intruder, and gravely 
 smelt of him. By some canine casuistry he arrived at 
 the same conclusion which society had reached — that 
 Haldane was a suspicious character, and should be kept 
 at arm's length. Indeed, the sagacious beast seemed to 
 feel toward the unfortunate youth precisely the same im- 
 pulse which had actuated all the prudent citizens in town 
 — a desire to be rid of him, and to have nothing to do 
 
 184
 
 MR. GROWTHER BECOMES GIGANTIC. 185 
 
 with him. If Haldane would only take himself off to 
 parts unknown, to die in a gutter, or to commit a bur- 
 glary, that he might, as it were, break into jail again, and 
 so find a refuge and an abiding-place, the faithful dog» 
 believing his master's interests no longer endangered, 
 would have resumed his nap with the same complacency 
 and sense of rehef which scores of good people had felt 
 as they saw Mr. Arnot's dishonored clerk disappearing 
 from their premises, after their curt refusal of his serv- 
 ices. The community's thoughts and wary eyes followed 
 him only sufficiently long to be sure that he committed 
 no further depredadons, and then he was forgotten, or 
 remembered only as a danger, or an annoyance, happily 
 escaped. What w^as to become of this drifting human 
 atom appeared to cause no more soHcitude in town than 
 Mr. Growther's dog would feel should he succeed in 
 growling the intruder out of the house ; for, being some- 
 what mystified, and not exactly sure as to his master's 
 disposition toward the stranger, he concluded to limit his 
 protest to a union of his voice with what might be termed 
 society's surly and monotonous command, "Move on." 
 
 Haldane tried to propitiate this mild and miniature 
 Cerberus with a dainty piece of ham, but was rewarded 
 only by a disdainful sniff and angrier snarl. The politic 
 cat, however, with wary glances at the dog and the 
 stranger, stole noiselessly to the meat, seized it, and re- 
 treated quickly to her recognized corner of the liearth ; 
 but when the youth, hoping that the morsel might lead 
 to a friendly acquaintance, offered a caress, her back and 
 tail went up instantly, and she became the embodiment 
 of repellant conservatism. He looked at her a moment^ 
 and then said, with a bitter laugh, 
 
 " If you could be transformed into a woman, as the 
 old fairy tale goes, you would make an excellent wife for 
 Weitzel Shrumpf, while the snarling dog represents the 
 respectable portion of the community, that will have
 
 186 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 nothing to do with me whatever. When my pen, how- 
 ever, has brought name and fame, the churhsh world 
 will be ready to fawn, and forget that it tried to trample 
 me into the mire of the street until I became a part of it. 
 Curses on the world ! I would give half my life for the 
 genius of a Byron, that I might heap scorn on society 
 until it writhed under the intolerable burden. Oh that I 
 had a wit as keen and quick as the lightning, so that I 
 might transfix and shrivel up the well-dressed monsters 
 that now shun me as if I had a contagion ! " 
 
 P>om a heart overflowing with bitterness and impotent 
 protest against the condition to which his own act had 
 reduced him, Haldane was learning to indulge in such 
 bitter sohloquy with increasing frequency. It is ever the 
 tendency of those who find themselves at odds with the 
 world, and in conflict with the established order of things, 
 to inveigh with communistic extravagance against the 
 ■conservatism and wary prudence which they themselves 
 would have maintained had all remained well with them. 
 The Haldane who had meditated " gloomy grandeur " 
 would not have looked at the poor, besmirched Haldane 
 who had just accepted what the world would regard as 
 charity. The only reason why the proud, aristocratic 
 youth could tolerate and make excuse for the disreputable 
 character who was glad to eat the dinner given by Jere- 
 miah Growther, was that this same ill-conditioned fellow 
 was himself. Thus every bitter thing which he said 
 against society was virtually self-condemnation. And 
 yet his course was most natural, for men almost invariably 
 forget that their views change with their fortunes. Thou- 
 sands will at once form a positive opinion of a subject 
 from its aspect seen at their stand-point, where one will 
 walk around and scan it on all sides. 
 
 Either to spite himself, or to show his confidence in 
 one whom others regarded as utterly unworthy of trust, 
 Mr. Growther remained away sufficiently long for Hal-
 
 3IB. GROWTHER BECOMES GIGANTIC. 187 
 
 dane to have made up a bundle of all the valuables in 
 the house, and have escaped. The young man soon dis- 
 covered that there were valuables, but any thing like 
 vulgar there never entered his mind. That people should 
 believe him capable of acting the part of a common thief 
 was one of the strange things in his present experience 
 whicii he could not understand. 
 
 Finally, to the immense relief of the honest and con- 
 servative dog, that had growled himself hoarse, Haldane 
 gave the room its finishing touches, and betook himself 
 to the wood-pile again. The cat watched his departure 
 with philosophic composure. Like many fair ladies, she 
 had thought chiefly of herself during the interview with 
 the stranger, from whom she had managed to secure a 
 Uttle agreeable attention without giving any thing in re- 
 turn ; and, now that it was over, she complacently purred 
 herself to sleep, with nothing to regret. 
 
 " Hullo ! you're here yet, eh ! " said Mr. Growther, en- 
 tering the gate. 
 
 " Can you name any good reason why I should not be 
 here?" asked Haldane, somewhat nettled. 
 
 " No, but I could plenty of bad reasons." 
 
 " Keep them to yourself then," said the young man, 
 sullenly resuming his work. 
 
 " You talk as if you was an honest man," growled the 
 old gentleman, hobbling into the house. 
 
 Sitting down in his stout oak chair to rest himself, he 
 stared in silence for a time at the changes that Haldane 
 had wrought. At last he commenced, 
 
 "Now, Jeremiah Growther, I hope you can see that 
 you are a perfect pig ! I hope you can see that dirt and 
 confusion are your nateral elements ; and you had to live 
 like a pig till a boy just out of jail came to show you 
 what it was to live like a decent human. But you've 
 been showed before, and you'll get things mixed up to- 
 morrow. A-a-h !
 
 188 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 "Where's that young fellow goin' to sleep to-night? 
 That's none o' your business. Yes, 'tis my business, too. 
 I'm always mighty careful to know where I'm goin' to 
 sleep, and if I don't sleep well my cat and dog hear from 
 me the next day. You could be mighty comfortable to- 
 night in your good bed with this young chap sittin' on a 
 curb-stun in the rain ; but I be hanged if you shall be. 
 It's beginnin' to rain now — it's goin' to be a mean night 
 — mean as yourself — a cold, oncomfortable drizzle ; just 
 such a night as makes these poor homeless devils feel 
 that since they are half under water they might as well 
 go down to the river and get under altogether. P'raps 
 they do it sometimes in the hope of finding a warm, dry 
 place somewhere. Dreadful suddint change for 'em, 
 though ! And it's we respectable, comfortable people 
 that's to blame for these suddint changes half the time. 
 
 " You know that heady young chap out there will go 
 to the bad if somebody don't pull him up. You know 
 that it would be mean as dirt to let him go wanderin' off 
 to-night with only fifty cents in his pocket, tryin' to find 
 some place to put his head in out of the storm ; and yet 
 you want to git out of doin' any thing more for him. 
 You're thinkin' how much more comfortable it will be to 
 sit dozin' in your chair, and not have any stranger both- 
 erin' round. But I'll head you off agin in spite of your 
 cussed, mean, stingy, selfish, old, shriveled-up soul, that 
 would like to take its ease even though the hull world 
 was a-groanin' outside the door. A-a-h ! " 
 
 Having made it clear to the perverse Jeremiah Grow- 
 ther — against whom he seemed to hold such an inveterate 
 spite — what he must do, he arose and called to Haldane, 
 
 " What are you doin' out there in the rain ? " 
 
 " I'll be through in a few minutes." 
 
 " I don't want the rest done till mornin'." 
 
 " It will pay neither of us for me to come back here to 
 do what's left."
 
 ME. QROWTHER BECOMES GIGANTIC. 189 
 
 " It may pay you, and as to it's payin' me, that's my 
 business." 
 
 " Not altogether — I wish to do my work on business 
 principles ; I haven't got down to charity yet." 
 
 " Well, have your own way, then ; I s'pose other folks 
 have a right to have it as well as myself, sometimes. 
 Come in soon as you are through." 
 
 By the time Haldane finished his task the clouds had 
 settled heavily all around the horizon, hastening forward 
 an early and gloomy twilight, and the rain was beginning 
 to fall steadily. His mood comported with the aspect of 
 sky and earth, and weariness, the fast ally of despond- 
 ency, aided in giving a leaden hue to the future and a 
 leaden weight to his thoughts. The prospect of trudging 
 a mile or more through the drenching rain to his previous 
 squalid resting-place at No. 13, whose only attraction 
 consisted in the fact that no questions were asked, was 
 so depressing that he decided to ask Mr. Growther for 
 permission to sleep in the corner of his wood-shed. 
 
 "Come in," shouted Mr. Growther, in response to his 
 knock at the door. 
 
 " I'm through," said Haldane laconically. 
 
 " Well, I ain't," replied Mr. Growther; " you wouldn't 
 mind taking that cheer till I am, would you ? " 
 
 Haldane found the cushioned arm-chair and the genial 
 fire exceedingly to his taste, and he felt that in such com- 
 fortable quarters he could endure hearing the old man 
 berate himself or any one else for an hour or more. 
 
 "Where are you goin' to sleep to-night?" asked his 
 quaint-visaged host. 
 
 "That is a problem I had been considering myself," 
 answered Haldane, dubiously. "I had about concluded 
 that, rather than walk back through the rain to the 
 wretched place at which I slept last night, I would ask 
 for the privilege of sleeping in your wood-shed. It 
 wouldn't be much worse than the other place, or any
 
 190 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 place in which I could find lodging if I were known. 
 Since I did not steal your silver 1 suppose you can trust 
 me with your wood." 
 
 " Yet they say your folks is rich." 
 
 " Yes, I can go to as elegant a house as there is in this 
 city." 
 
 " Why in thunder don't you go there, then? " 
 
 " Because I would rather be in your wood-shed and 
 other places like it for the present." 
 
 " I can't understand that." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but there are worse things than sleep- 
 ing hard and cold. There are people who suffer more 
 •through their minds than their bodies, I am not going 
 back among my former acquaintances till I can go as a 
 gentleman." 
 
 The old man looked at him approvingly a moment, 
 and then said sententiously, 
 
 " Well, you may be a bad cuss, but you ain't a mean 
 one." 
 
 Haldane laughed outright. " Mr. Growther," said he, 
 " you do me honor. I foresee you will trust me with your 
 wood -pile to-night." 
 
 " No, I won't nuther. You might not take my wood, 
 but you would take cold, and then I'd have to nuss you 
 and pay doctor's bills, and bother with you a week or 
 more. I might even have your funeral on my hands. 
 You needn't think you're goin' to get me into all this 
 trouble, fur I'm one that hates trouble, unless it's fur my- 
 self ; and, if I do say it, it's askin' a Httle too much of 
 me, almost a stranger, to 'tend to your funeral. I don't 
 like funerals — never did — and I won't have nothin' to do 
 with yours. There's a room right up stairs here, over the 
 kitchen, where you can sleep without wakin' up the hull 
 neighborhood a coughin' before mornin'. Now don't 
 ■say nothin' more about it. I'm thinkin' of myself plaguy 
 sight more'n I am of you. If I could let you go to the
 
 3fB. ROWTHER BECOMES GIGANTIC. 191 
 
 dogs without worryin' about it, I'd do it quick enough; 
 but I've got a miserable, sneakin' old conscience that 
 won't stand right up and make me do right, like a man ; 
 but when I want to do somethin' mean it begins a gnawin' 
 and a gnawin' at me till I have to do what I oughter for 
 the sake of a little peace and comfort. A-a-h ! " 
 
 " Your uncomfortable conscience seems bent on mak- 
 ing me very comfortable ; and yet I pledge you my word 
 that I will stay only on one condition, and that is, that 
 you let me get supper and breakfast for you, and also 
 read the paper aloud this evening. I can see that you 
 are tired and lame from your walk. Will you agree ? " 
 
 " Can't very well help myself. These easterly storms 
 allers brings the rheumatiz into my legs. About all they 
 are good fur now is to have the rheumatiz in 'em. So set 
 plates for two, and fire ahead." 
 
 Haldane entered into his tasks with almost boyish 
 zest. " I've camped out in the woods, and am consider- 
 able of a cook," said he. " You shall have some toast 
 browned to a turn, to soak in your tea, and then you 
 shall have some more with hot cream poured over it. 
 I'll shave the smoked beef so thin that you can see to 
 read through it." 
 
 " Umph • I can't see after dark any more than an old 
 hen." 
 
 " How did you expect to read the paper then ? " asked 
 Haldane, without pausing in his labors. 
 
 " I only read the headin's. I might as well make up 
 the rest as the editors, fur then I can make it up to suit 
 me. It's all made up half the time, you know." 
 
 " Well, you shall hear the editors' yarns to-night then, 
 by way of variety." 
 
 The old man watched the eager young fellow as he 
 bustled from the cupboard to the table, and from the 
 store-closet to the fireplace, with a kindly twinkle in his 
 small eyes, from which the deep wrinkles ran in all
 
 192 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 directions and in strange complexity. There could 
 scarcely be a greater contrast than that between the 
 headstrong and stalwart youth and the withered and 
 eccentric hermit ; but it would seem that mutual kindness 
 is a common ground on which all the world can meet and 
 add somewhat to each other's welfare. 
 
 The sound hard wood which Haldane had just sawn 
 into billets blazed cheerily on the hearth, filling the quaint 
 old kitchen with weird and flickering lights and shades. 
 Mr. Growther was projected against the opposite wall in 
 the aspect of a benevolent giant, and perhaps the large, 
 kindly, but unsubstantial shadow was a truer type of the 
 man than the shriveled anatomy with which the town 
 was familiar. The conservative dog, no longer dis- 
 quieted by doubts and fears, sat up and blinked approv- 
 ingly at the preparation for supper. The politic cat, now 
 satisfied that any attentions to the stranger would not 
 compromise her, and might lead to another delicate mor- 
 sel, fawned against his legs, and purred as affectionately 
 as if she had known him all her life and would not scratch 
 him instantly if he did any thing displeasing to her. 
 
 Take it altogether, it was a domestic scene which would 
 have done Mrs. Arnot's heart good to have witnessed ; 
 but poor Mrs. Haldane would have sighed over it as so 
 utterly unconventional as to be another proof of her son's 
 unnatural tastes. In her estimation he should spend 
 social evenings only in aristocratic parlors ; and she 
 mourned over the fact that from henceforth he was ex- 
 cluded from these privileged places of his birthright, 
 with a grief only less poignant than her sorrow over what 
 seemed to her a cognate truth, that his course and char- 
 acter also excluded him from heaven.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 HOW PUBLIC OPINION IS OFTE^J MADE. 
 
 "I don't s'pose there's any use of two such repro- 
 bates as us thinkin' about sayin' grace," said Mr. 
 Grovvther, taking his place at the head of the table ; 
 " and yet, as I said, I allers have a sneakin' wish jest to 
 go through the form ; so we'll all begin in the same way 
 — cat and dog and God's rational critters. Howsomever, 
 they don't know no better, and so their consciences is 
 clear. I'll own up this toast is good, if I am eatin' it like 
 a heathen. If you can't find any thing else to do, you 
 can take to cookin' for a livin'." 
 
 " No one in town, save yourself, would trust me in 
 their kitchen." 
 
 " Well, it does seem as if a man had better lose every 
 thing rather than his character," said Mr. Growther 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Then it seems a pity a man can lose it so cursed 
 easily," added Haldane bitterly, "for, having lost it, all 
 the respectable and well-to-do would rather one should 
 go to the devil a thousand times than give him a chance 
 to win it back again." 
 
 " You put it rather strong— rather strong," said the old 
 man, shaking his head ; " for some reason or other I am 
 not as mad at myself and every thing and everybody to- 
 night as usual, and I can see things clearer. Be honest 
 now. A month ago you belonged to the rich, high- 
 flyin* class. How much then would you have had to do 
 with a young fellow of whom you knew only four things 
 — that he gambled, got drunk, 'bezzled a thousand dol- 
 193
 
 194 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 lars, and had been in jail? That's all most people in 
 town know about you." 
 
 Haldane laid down his knife and fork and fairly 
 groaned. 
 
 "I know the plain truth is tough to hear and think 
 about, and I'm an old brute to spile your supper by 
 bringing it up. I hope you won't think I'm tryin' to save 
 some victuals by doin' it. And yet it's the truth, and 
 you've got to face it. But face it to-morrow — face it to- 
 morrow ; have a comfortable time to-night." 
 
 " Your statement of the case is perfectly bald," said 
 Haldane, with a troubled brow ; " there are explanatory 
 and excusing circumstances." 
 
 "Yes, no doubt; but the world don't take much ac- 
 count of them. When one gits into a scrape, about the 
 only question asked is, What did he dof And they all 
 jump to the conclusion that if he did it once he'll do it 
 agin. Lookin' into the circumstances takes time and 
 trouble, and it isn't human nature to bother much about 
 other people." 
 
 " What chance is there, then, for such as I am ? " 
 
 The old man hitched uneasily on his chair, but at last, 
 with his characteristic bluntness, said, " Hanged if I 
 know ! They say that them that gits down doesn't very 
 often git up again. Yet I know they do sometimes." 
 
 " What would you do if you were me? " 
 
 " Hanged if I know that either ! Sit down and cuss 
 myself to all eternity, like enough. I feel like doin' it 
 sometimes as it is. A-a-h ! " 
 
 " I think I know a way out of the slough," said Hal- 
 dane more composedly — his thoughts recurring to his 
 literary hopes — " and if I do, you will not be sorry." 
 
 "Of course I won't be sorry. A man allers hates one 
 who holds a mortgage against him which is sure to be 
 foreclosed. That's the way the devil's got me, and I 
 hate him about as bad as I do myself, and spite him
 
 HO W PUBLIC OPINION IS OFTEN MA DE. 195 
 
 every chance I git. Of course, I'll be glad to see you git 
 out of his clutches ; but he's got his claws in you deep, 
 and he holds on to a feller as if he'd pull him in two be- 
 fore he'll let go," 
 
 " Mr. Growther, I don't want to get into a quarrel with 
 you, for I have found that you are very touchy on a cer- 
 tain point ; but I cannot help hinting that you are 
 destined to meet a great disappointment when through 
 with your earthly worry. I wish my chances were as 
 good as yours." 
 
 "Now you are beginnin' to talk foohshly. I shall 
 never be rid of myself, and so will never be rid of my 
 worry." 
 
 "Well, well, we won't discuss the question; it's too 
 deep for us both ; but in my judgment it will be a great 
 piece of injustice if you ever find a warmer place than 
 your own hearthstone." 
 
 " That's mighty hot, sometimes, boy ; and, besides, 
 your judgment hasn't led you very straight so far," said 
 the old man testily. " But don't talk of such things. I 
 don't want to come to 'em till I have to." 
 
 " Suppose I should become rich and famous, Mr. 
 Growther," said Haldane, changing the subject ; " would 
 you let me take a meal with you then ? " 
 
 " That depends. If you put on any airs I wouldn't." 
 
 " Good for you ! " 
 
 " O, I'd want to make much of you, and tell how I 
 helped you when you was down, and so git all the reflected 
 glory I could out of you. I've learned how my sneakin' 
 old speret pints every time ; but I'll head it off, and drive 
 it back as I would a fox into its hole." 
 
 In spite of some rather harrowing and gloomy thoughts 
 on the part of two of them, the four inmates of the cottage 
 made a very comfortable supper ; for Mr. Growther al- 
 ways insisted that since his cat and dog could "stand 
 him," they should fare as well as he did.
 
 19G KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Having cleared the table, Haldane lighted a candle — 
 kerosene lamps were an abomination that Mr. Growther 
 would not abide — and began reading aloud the Plvening 
 Spy. The old gentleman half listened and half dozed, 
 pricking up his ears at some tale of trouble or crime, and 
 almost snoring through politics and finance. At last he 
 was half startled out of his chair by a loud, wrathful oath 
 from Haldane. 
 
 " Look here, young man," he said ; " the devil isn't so 
 far off from either of us that you need shout for him." 
 
 " True, indeed ! he isn't far off, and he has every 
 thing his own way in this world. Listen to this — " and 
 he read with sharp, bitter emphasis the following edito- 
 rial paragraph, headed "Unnatural Depravity : " 
 
 " Being ever inclined to view charitably the faults and 
 failings of others, and to make allowance for the natural 
 giddiness of youth, we gave a rather lenient estimate, not 
 of the crime committed by Mr. Arnot's clerk, Egbert 
 Haldane, but of the young man himself. It would seem 
 that our disposition to be kindly led us into error, for we 
 learn from our most respectable German contemporary, 
 published in this city, that this same unscrupulous young 
 fraud has been guilty of the meanness of taking advan- 
 tage of a poor foreigner's ignorance of our language. 
 Having found it impossible to obtain lodgings among 
 those posted in the current news of the day, and thus to 
 impose on any one to whom he was known, he succeeded 
 in obtaining board of a respectable German, and ran up 
 as large a bill as possible at the bar, of course. When 
 the landlord of the hotel and restaurant at last asked for 
 a settlement, this young scapegrace had the insolence to 
 insist that he had paid every cent of his bill, though he 
 had not a scrap of paper or proof to support his asser- 
 tion. Finding that this game of bluster would not suc- 
 ceed, and that his justly incensed host was about to ask 
 for kis arrest, he speedily came down from his high and
 
 HOW PUBLIC OPINION IS OFTEN MADE. 197 
 
 virtuous mood, and compromised by pretending to offer 
 all the money he had. 
 
 "This was undoubtedly a mere pretense, for he had 
 worn a valuable watch in the morning, and had parted 
 with it during the day. Though the sum he apparently 
 had upon his person was scarcely half payment, the 
 kind-hearted German took him at his word, and also left 
 him seventy-five cents to procure lodgings elsewhere. In 
 what role of crime he will next appear it is hard to guess ; 
 but it seems a pity that Mr. Arnot did not give him the 
 full benefit of the law, for thus the community would 
 have been rid, for a time at least, of one who can serve 
 his day and generation better at breaking stone under the 
 direction of the State than by any methods of his own 
 choosing. He is one of those phenomenal cases of un- 
 natural depravity ; for, as far as we can learn, he comes 
 from a home of wealth, refinement, and even Christian 
 culture. We warn our fellow-citizens against him." 
 
 " A-a-a-h !" ejaculated Mr. Growther, in prolonged 
 and painful utterance, as if one of his teeth had just been 
 drawn. " Now that is tough ! I don't wonder you think 
 Satan had a finger in that pie. Didn't I tell you the ed- 
 itors made up half that's in the papers? I don't know 
 what started this story. There's generally a little begin- 
 ning, like the seed of a big flauntin' weed ; but I don't 
 believe you did so mean a thing. In fact, I don't think 
 I'm quite mean enough to have done it myself." 
 
 " You, and perhaps one other person, will be the only 
 ones in town, then, who will not believe it against me. I 
 know I've acted wrong and like a fool ; but what chance 
 has a fellow when he gets credit for evil only, and a hun- 
 dred-fold more evil than is in him? Curse it all! since 
 every one insists that I have gone wholly over to the 
 devil, I might as well go." 
 
 "That's it, that's it! we're all right at his elbow, 
 a-helpin' him along. But how did this story start ? The
 
 198 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 scribbler in the German paper couldn't have spun it, 
 like a spider, hully out of his own in'ards." 
 
 Haldane told him the whole story, sketching the 
 " kind-hearted German " in his true colors. 
 
 At its conclusion Mr. Growther drew a long, medita- 
 tive breath, and remarked sententiously, " Well, I've 
 allers heard that 'sperience was an awfully dear school ; 
 but we do learn in it. I'll bet my head you will never 
 pay another dollar without takin' a receipt." 
 
 " What chance will I ever have to make another dol- 
 lar ? They have raised a mad-dog cry against me, and 
 I shall be treated as if I were a dog." 
 
 " Why don't you go home, then ? " 
 
 "I'll go to the bottom of the river first." 
 
 " That would suit the devil, the crabs, and the eels," 
 remarked Mr. Growther. 
 
 " Faugh! crabs and eels! " exclaimed Haldane with 
 a shudder of disgust. 
 
 "That's all you'd find at the bottom of the river, ex- 
 cept mud," responded Mr. Growther, effectually quench- 
 ing all tragic and suicidal ideas by his prosaic statement 
 of the facts. "Young man," he continued tottering to 
 his feet, " I s'pose you realize that you are in a pretty 
 bad fix. I ain't much of a mother at comfortin'. When 
 I feel most sorry for any one I'm most crabbed. It's 
 one of my mean ways. If there's many screws loose in 
 you, you will go under. If you are rash, or cowardly, 
 or weak — that is, ready to give up-like — you will make a 
 final mess of your life ; but if you fight your way up 
 you'll be a good deal of a man. Seems to me if I was 
 as young and strong as you be, I'd pitch in. I'd spite 
 myself; I'd spite the devil ; I'd beat the world ; I'd just 
 grit my teeth, and go fur myself and every thing else that 
 stood in my way, and I'd whip 'em all out, or I'd die 
 a-fightin'. But I've got so old and rheumatic that all I can 
 do is cuss. A-a-h! "
 
 HOW PUBLIC OPINION IS OFTEN MADE. 19? 
 
 " I will take your advice — I will fight it out," ex- 
 claimed the excitable youth with an oath. Between in- 
 dignation and desperation he was thoroughly aroused. 
 He already cherished only revenge toward the world, 
 and he was catching the old man's vindictive spirit to- 
 ward himself. 
 
 Mr. Growther seemed almost as deeply incensed as his 
 guest at the gross injustice of the paragraph, which, 
 nevertheless, would be widely copied, and create pubUc 
 opinion, and so double the difficulties in the young man's 
 way ; and he kept up as steady a grumble and growl as 
 had his sorely disquieted dog in the afternoon. But 
 Haldane lowered at the fire for a long time in silence. 
 
 "Well," concluded the quaint old cynic, "matters 
 can't be mended by swearin' at 'em, is advice I often 
 give myself, but never take. I s'pose it's bed-time. To- 
 morrow we will take another squint at your ugly for- 
 tunes, and see which side pints toward dayhght. Would 
 you mind readin' a chapter in the Bible first? " 
 
 " What have I to do with the Bible ? " 
 
 " Well, the Bible has a good deal to say about you 
 and most other people." 
 
 " Like those who pretend to believe it, it has nothing 
 good to say about me. I've had about all the hard 
 names I can stand for one night." 
 
 " Read where it hits some other folks, then." 
 
 " O, I will read anywhere you like. It's a pity if J 
 can't do that much for perhaps the only one now left ii 
 the world who would show me a kindness." 
 
 "That's a good fellow. There's one chapter I'd like 
 to hear to-night. The words come out so strong and 
 hearty-like that they generally express just my feelin's. 
 Find the twenty-third chapter of Matthew, and read 
 where it says, 'Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, 
 hypocrites.' " 
 
 Haldane read the chapter with much zest, crediting all
 
 200 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 its denunciation to others, in accordance with a very gen- 
 eral fashion. When he came to the words, "Ye ser- 
 pents, ye generation of vipers," the old man fairly rubbed 
 his hands together in his satisfaction, exclaiming : 
 
 "That's it! that's genuine! that's telling us sleek, 
 comfortable sinners the truth without mincin' ! No 
 smooth, deludin' lies in that chapter. That's the way to 
 talk to people who don't want their right hand to know 
 what cussedness their left hand is up to. Now, Jeremiah 
 Growther, the next time you want to do a mean thing 
 that you wouldn't have all the town know, just remem- 
 ber what a wrigglin' snake in the grass you are." 
 
 With this personal exhortation Mr. Growther brought 
 the evening to a close, and, having directed Haldane to 
 his comfortable quarters, hobbled and mumbled off to an 
 adjoining room, and retired for the night. The dying 
 fire revealed for a time the slumbering cat and dog, but 
 gradually the quaint old kitchen faded into a blank of 
 darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A PAPER PONIARD. 
 
 Throughout an early breakfast Mr. Growther ap- 
 peared to be revolving some subject in his mind, and his 
 question, at last, was only seemingly abrupt, for it came 
 at the end of quite a long mental altercation, in which, 
 of course, he took sides against himself. 
 
 ' ' I say, young man, do you think you could stand me ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Haldane. 
 
 " Well, before you say no, you ought to realize all the 
 bearin's of the case. The town is down on you. Re- 
 spectable people won't have nothin' to do with you, any 
 more than they would walk arm in arm with the char- 
 coal-man in their Sunday toggery. I aren't respectable, 
 so you can't blacken me. I've showed you I'm not afraid 
 to trust you. You can't sleep in the streets, you can't eat 
 pavin'-stuns and mud, and you won't go home. Thic 
 brings me to the question again : Can you stand me ? I 
 warn you I'm an awful oncomfortable customer to live 
 with; I won't take any mean advantage of you in this 
 respect, and, what's more, I don't s'pose I'll behave any 
 better for your sake or any body else's. I'm all finished 
 and cooled off, like an old iron casting, and can't be bent 
 or made over in any other shape. You're crooked enough, 
 the Lord knows ; but you're kind o' limber yet in your 
 moral jints, and you may git yourself in decent shape if 
 you have a chance. I've taken a notion to give you a 
 chance. The only question is, Can you stand me?" 
 
 " It would be strange if I could not stand the only man 
 in Hillaton who has shown a human and friendly interest 
 in me. But the thing I can't stand is taking charity." 
 201
 
 202 KNIQHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Who's asked you to take charity ? " 
 "What else would it be — my living here on you?" 
 "I can open a boardin'-house if I want to, can't 1? 
 I have a right to lend my own money, I s'pose. You 
 can open a ledger account with me to a penny. What's 
 more, I'll give you a receipt every time," added the old 
 man, with a twinkle in his eye; "you don't catch me 
 gettin' into the papers as ' kind-hearted' Mr. Growther." 
 " Mr. Growther, I can scarcely understand your kind- 
 ness to me, for I have no claim on you whatever. As 
 much as I v^ould like to accept your offer, I scarcely feel 
 it right to do so. I will bring discredit to you with cer- 
 tainty, and my chances of repaying you seem very doubt- 
 ful now." 
 
 "Now, look here, young man, I've got to take my 
 choice 'twixt two evils. On one side is you. I don't 
 want you botherin' round, seein' my mean ways. For 
 the sake of decency I'll have to try to hold in a little be- 
 fore you, while before my cat and dog I can let out as I 
 please ; so I'd rather live alone. But the tother side is a 
 plaguy sight worse. If I should let you go a-wanderin' 
 off you don't know where, the same as if I should start 
 my dog off with a kick, knowin' that every one else in 
 town would add a kick or fire a stun, I couldn't sleep 
 nights or enjoy my vittels. I'd feel so mean that I should 
 jest set and cuss myself from mornin' till night. Look 
 here, now ; I couldn't stan' it," concluded Mr. Growther, 
 ■overcome by the picture of his own wretchedness. " Let's 
 have no more words. Come back every night till you 
 can do better. Open an account with me. Charge what 
 you please for board and lodgin', and pay all back with 
 lawful interest, if it'll make you sleep better." And so 
 it was finally arranged. 
 
 Haldane started out into the sun-lighted streets of the 
 city as a man might sally forth in an enemy's country, 
 fearing the danger that lurked on every side, and feeling
 
 A PAPER PONIARD. 203 
 
 that his best hope was that he might be unnoted and un- 
 known. He knew that the glance of recognition would 
 also be a glance of aversion and scorn, and, to his nature 
 any manifestation of contempt was worse than a blow. 
 He now clung to his literary ventures as the one rope by 
 which he could draw himself out of the depths into which 
 he had fallen, and felt sure that he must hear from some 
 of his manuscripts within a day or two. He went to the 
 post-office in a tremor of anxiety only to hear the usual 
 response, " Nothing for E. H." 
 
 With heavy steps and a sinking heart he then set out 
 in his search for something to do, and after walking weary 
 miles he found only a small bit of work, for which he re- 
 ceived but small compensation. He returned despond- 
 ently in the evening to his refuge at Mr. Growther's cot- 
 tage, and his quaint good Samaritan showed his sympa- 
 thy by maintaining a perpetual growl at himself and the 
 " disjinted world " in general. But Haldane lowered at 
 the fire and said little. 
 
 Several successive days brought disappointment, dis- 
 couragement, and even worse. The slanderous para- 
 graph concerning his relations with Mr. Shrumpf was 
 copied by the Morning Courier, with even fuller and se- 
 verer comment. Occasionally upon the street and in his 
 efforts to procure employment, he was recognized, and 
 aversion, scorn, or rough dismissal followed instantly. 
 
 For a time he honestly tried to obtain the means of 
 livelihood, but this became more and more difficult. 
 People of whom he asked employment naturally inquired 
 his name, and he was fairly learning to hate it from wit- 
 nessing the malign changes in aspect and manner which 
 its utterance invariably produced. The public had been 
 generally warned against him, and to the natural distrust 
 inspired by his first crime was added a virtuous indigna- 
 tion at the supposed low trickery in his dealing with the 
 magnanimous Mr. Shrumpf, " the poor but kind-hearted
 
 204 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 German." Occasionally, that he might secure a day's 
 work in full or in part, he was led to suppress his name 
 and give an alias. 
 
 He felt as if he had been caught in a swift black tor- 
 rent that was sweeping him down in spite of all that he 
 could do ; he also felt that the black tide would eventu- 
 ally plunge him into an abyss into which he dared not 
 look. He struggled hard to regain a footing, and clutched 
 almost desperately at every thing that might impede or 
 stay his swift descent ; but seemingly in vain. 
 
 His mental distress was such that he was unable to 
 write, even with the aid of stimulants ; and he also felt 
 that it was useless to attempt any thing further until he 
 heard from the manuscripts already in editorial hands. 
 But the ominous silence in regard to them remained un- 
 broken. As a result, he began to give way to moods of 
 the deepest gloom and despondency, which alternated 
 with wild and reckless impulses. 
 
 He was growing intensely bitter toward himself and 
 all mankind. Even the image of his kind friend, Mrs. 
 Arnot, began to merge itself into merely that of the wife 
 of the man who had dealt him a blow from which he be- 
 gan to fear he would never recover. He was too morbid 
 to be just to any one, even himself, an'i he felt that she 
 had Joserted and turned against him ::iso, iorgetting that 
 he had given her no clue to his present place* of abode, 
 and had seni ?. .nessage indicating that he would regard 
 any effort to discover him as officious and intrusive. He 
 quite honestly believed that by this time she had come to 
 share in the general contempt and hostility which is ever 
 cherished toward those whom society regards as not only 
 depraved and vile, but also dangerous to its peace. It 
 seemed as if both she and Laura had receded from him 
 to an immeasurable distance, and he could not think of 
 either without almost gnashing his teeth in rage at him- 
 self, and at what he regarded as his perverse and cruel
 
 A PAPER PONIARD. 205 
 
 fate. At times he would vainly endeavor to banish theif 
 images from his mind, but more often would indulge in- 
 wild and impossible visions of coming back to them in a- 
 dazzling halo of literary glory, and of overwhelming 
 them with humiliation that they were so slow to recognize 
 the genius which smoldered for weeks under their very 
 eyes. 
 
 But his dreams were in truth "baseless fabrics," for 
 at last there came a letter addressed to " E. H.," with 
 the name of a popular literary paper printed upon it. 
 He clutched it with a hand that shook in his eagerness, 
 and walked half a mile before finding a nook sufficiently 
 secluded in which to open the fateful missive. There 
 were moments as he hastened through the streets when 
 the crumpled letter was like a live coal in his hand ; 
 again it seemed throbbing with fife, and he held it tighter,, 
 as though it might escape. With a chill at heart he also* 
 admitted that this bit of paper might be a poniard that 
 would stab his hope and so destroy him. 
 
 He eventually entered a half-completed dwelling, which 
 some one had commenced to build but was not able to 
 finish. It was a wretched, prosaic place, that apparently 
 had lost its value even to the owner, and had become to 
 the pubhc at large only an unsightly blot upon the street. 
 There was no danger of his being disturbed here, for the 
 walls were not sufficiently advanced to have ears, and 
 even a modern ghost would scorn to haunt a place whose 
 stains were not those of age, and whose crumbling ruins 
 resulted only from superficial and half-finished work. 
 Indeed, the prematurely old and abortive house had its 
 best counterpart in the young man himself, who stole into 
 one of its small, unplastered rooms with many a wary 
 glance, as though it were a treasure-vault which he was 
 bent on plundering. 
 
 Feeling at last secure from observation, he tremblingly 
 opened the letter, which he hoped contained the first in-
 
 ^06 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 stallment of wealth and fame. It was, indeed, from the 
 editor of the periodical, and, remembering the avalanche 
 of poetry and prose from beneath which this unfortunate 
 class must daily struggle into life and being, it was un- 
 usually kind and full ; but to Haldane it was cruel as 
 death — a Spartan short-sword, only long enough to pierce 
 his heart. It was to the following effect : 
 
 E. H. — Dear Sir : — It would be easier to throw your com- 
 munication into the waste-basket than thus to reply; and such, 
 I may add, is the usual fate of productions like yours. But 
 something in your letter accompanying the MSS. caught my at- 
 tention, and induced me to give you a little good advice, which 
 I fear you will not take, however. You are evidently a young 
 and inexperienced man, and I gather from your letter that you 
 are in trouble of some nature, and, also, that you are building 
 hopes, if not actually depending, upon the crude labors of your 
 pen. Let me tell you frankly at once that literature is not your 
 forte. If you have sent literary work to other parties like that 
 inclosed to me you will never hear from it again. In the first 
 place, you do not write correctly ; in the second, you have noth- 
 ing to say. We cannot afford to print words merely — much 
 less pay for them. What is worse, many of your sentences are 
 so unnatural and turgid as to suggest that you sought in stimu- 
 lants a remedy for paucity of ideas. Take friendly advice. 
 Attempt something that you are capable of doing, and build 
 your hopes on t/iat. Any honest work — even sawing wood — 
 well done, is better than childish efforts to perform what, to us, 
 IS impossible. Before you can do any thing in the literary 
 world it is evident that years of culture and careful reading 
 would be necessary. But, as I have before said, your talents do 
 not seem to lie in this dnection. Life is too precious to be 
 wasted in vain endeavor ; and that reminds me that I have 
 spent several moments, and from the kindliest motives, in stat- 
 ing to you facts which you may regard as insults. But were the 
 circumstances the same I would give my own son the same ad- 
 vice. Do not be discouraged ; there is plenty of other work 
 equally good and useful as that for which you seem unfitted. 
 
 Faithfully yours,
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A SORRY KNIGHT. 
 
 The writer has known men to receive mortal wounds 
 in battle, of which, at the moment, they were scarcely 
 conscious. The mind, in times of grand excitement, has 
 often risen so far superior to the material body that only 
 by trickling blood or faintness have persons become 
 aware of their injuries. But " a w'ounded spirit, who can 
 bear?" and when did hope, self-love, or pride, ever re- 
 ceive home-thrusts unconsciously ? 
 
 The well-meaning letter, written by the kindly editor, 
 and full of wholesome advice, cut like a surgeon's knife 
 in some desperate case when it is a question whether th'e 
 patient can endure the heroic treatment necessary. Hal- 
 dane's stilted and unnatural tales had been projected into 
 being by such fiery and violent means that they might 
 almost be termed volcanic in their origin ; but the fused 
 mass which was the result, resembled scoria or cinders 
 rather than fine metal shaped into artistic forms. Al- 
 though his manuscripts could have been sold in the 
 world's market only by the pound, he had believed, or, 
 at least, strongly hoped otherwise, hke so many others, 
 who, with beating hearts, have sent the children of their 
 brains out to seek their fortunes with no better results. 
 
 The unbroken and ominous silence or the returned 
 manuscript is a severe disappointment even to those who 
 from safe and happy homes have sought to gain the pub- 
 lic ear, and whose impelHng motive toward literature is 
 scarcely more than an impulse of vanity. But to Hal- 
 dane the letter, which in giving the editorial estimate of 
 one of his stories revealed the fate of all the others, 
 207
 
 2U8 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 broviglit far more than a mere disappointment. It brought 
 despair and the recklessness and demorahzation which 
 inevitably follow. The public regarded him as a de- 
 praved, commonplace vagabond, eminent only in his 
 capacity for evil and meanness, and he now inclined 
 strongly to the same view of himself. True self-respect 
 he had never possessed, and his best substitute, pride, at 
 last gave way. He felt that he was defeated for life, and 
 the best that Ufe could now offer was a brief career of 
 sensual pleasure. Mrs. Arnot and Laura Romeyn were 
 as far removed from him as the stars ; it was torment to 
 think of them, and he would blot out their memory and 
 the memory of all that he had hoped for, with wine and 
 excitement. It seemed to him that the world said to him 
 with united voice, "Go to the devil," and then made it 
 impossible for him to do otherwise. 
 
 Since he was defeated, — since all his proud assurances 
 to his mother that he would, alone and unaided, regain 
 his lost good name and position in society had proved but 
 empty boasts, — he would no longer hide the fact from 
 her, not in the hope of being received at home as a re- 
 pentant prodigal (even the thought of such a course was 
 unendurable), but with the purpose of obtaining from her 
 the means of entering upon a life of vicious pleasure. 
 
 The young man's father — impelled both by his strong 
 attachment for his wife, and also by the prudent fore- 
 thought with which men seek to protect and provide for 
 those they love, long after they have passed away from 
 earthly life — had left his property wholly in trust to his 
 wife, associating with her one or two other chosen 
 counselors. As long as she lived and remained unmar- 
 ried she controlled it, the husband trusting to her affec- 
 tion for her children to make suitable provision for them. 
 He had seen with prophetic anxiety the mother's fond in- 
 dulgence of their only son, and the practical man dreaded 
 the consequences. He therefore communicated to her
 
 A SOEEY KNIGHT. 209 
 
 verbally, and also embodied in his will, his wish that his 
 son should have no control over the principal of such 
 portion of the estate as would eventually fall to him until 
 he had estabhshed a character that secured the con- 
 fidence of all good men, and satisfied the judgment of 
 the cautious co-executors. The provisions of the will 
 still further required that, should the young man prove 
 erratic and vicious, his income should be limited in such 
 ways as would, as far as possible, curb excess. 
 
 Haldane knew all this, and in the days of his con- 
 fidence in himself and his brilliant future had often 
 smiled at these "absurd restrictions." The idea that 
 there would ever be any reason for their enforcement was 
 preposterous, and the thought of his fond, weak mother 
 refusing anything that he demanded, w^as still further out 
 of the range of possibihty. 
 
 The wretched youth now sank into a far lower depth 
 than he had ever yet reached. He dehberately resolved 
 to take advantage of that mother's weakness, and for the 
 basest ends. While under the influence of hope and 
 pride, he had resolved to receive no assistance even from 
 her, so that he might wholly claim the credit of regain- 
 ing all that he had lost ; but now, in the recklessness of 
 despair, he proposed not only to ask for all the money he 
 could obtain, but, if necessary, extort it by any means in 
 his power. 
 
 He and the forlorn place of his bitter revery grew more 
 and more into harmony. The small, half- finished apart- 
 ment of the ruinous new house became more truly the 
 counterpart of his life. It was bare ; it was unsightly 
 from the debris of its own discolored and crumbling 
 walls. The possibility of sweet home scenes had passed 
 from it, and it had become a place in which an orgy 
 might be hidden, or some revolting crime committed. 
 To precisely this use Haldane put his temporary refuge 
 before leaving it ; for excesses and evil deeds that the
 
 210 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 mind has deliberately resolved upon are virtually accom- 
 plished facts as far as the wrong-doer is concerned. Be- 
 fore leaving his dingy hiding-place Haldane had in the 
 depths of his soul been guilty of drunkenness and all 
 kinds of excess. He also purposed unutterable baseness 
 toward the widowed mother whom, by every principle of 
 true manhood, he was bound to cherish and shield ; and 
 he had in volition more certainly committed the act of 
 self-destruction than does the poor wretch who, under 
 some mad, half-insane impulse, makes permanent by 
 suicide the evils a little fortitude and patient effort might 
 have remedied. There is no self-murder so hopeless and 
 wicked as that of deliberate sin against one's own body 
 and soul. 
 
 No man becomes a saint or villain in an hour or by a 
 single step ; but there are times when evil tendencies 
 combine with adverse influences and circumstances to 
 produce sudden and seemingly fatal havoc in character. 
 As the world goes, Haldane was a well-meaning youth, 
 although cursed with evil habits and tendencies, when he 
 entered the isolated, half-finished house. He was bad 
 and devilish when he came out upon the street again, 
 and walked recklessly toward the city, caring not who 
 saw or recognized him. In the depths of his heart he 
 had become an enemy to society, and, so far from hop- 
 ing to gain its respect and good-will, he defied and in- 
 tended to outrage it to the end of life. 
 
 A man in such a mood gravitates with almost certainty 
 toward the liquor-saloon, and Haldane naturally com- 
 menced drinking at the various dens whose doors stood 
 alluringly open. His slender purse did not give him the 
 choice of high-priced wines, and to secure the mad ex- 
 citement and oblivion he craved, only fiery compounds 
 were ordered — such as might have been distilled in the 
 infernal regions to accomplish infernal results ; and they 
 soon began to possess him like a legion of evil spirits.
 
 A SOERY KNIGHT. 211 
 
 If Shakespeare characterized the " invisible spirit of 
 wine " as a " devil " in the unsophisticated days of old, 
 when wine was wine, and not a hell-broth concocted of 
 poisonous drugs, what unspeakable fiends must lurk in 
 the grimy bottles whose contents, analyzed and explained, 
 would appall some, at least, of the stolid and stony- 
 hearted venders ! 
 
 Haldane soon felt himself capable of any wickedness, 
 any crime. He became a human volcano, that might at 
 any moment pass into a violent and murderous action, 
 regardless of consequences — indeed, as utterly incapable 
 of foreseeing and realizing them as the mountain that 
 belches destruction on vineyard and village. 
 
 We regard ourselves as a civilized and Christian peo- 
 ple, and yet we tolerate on every corner places where 
 men are transformed into incarnate devils, and sent forth 
 to run amuck in our streets, and outrage the helpless 
 women and children in their own homes. The naked in- 
 habitants of Dahomey could do no worse in this direction. 
 
 But Haldane was not destined to end his orgy in the 
 lurid glare of a tragedy, for, as the sun declined, the 
 miserable day was brought to a wretched and fitting 
 close. Unconsciously he had strayed to the saloon on 
 whose low step Messrs. Van Wink and Ketchem had left 
 him on the memorable night from which he dated his 
 downfall. Of course he did not recognize the place, but 
 there was one within that associated him inseparably 
 with it, and also with misfortunes of his own. As Hal- 
 dane leaned unsteadily against the bar a seedy-looking 
 man glared at him a moment, and then stepped to his 
 side, saying, 
 
 " I'll take a few dhrinks wid ye. Faix ! after all the 
 trouble y'e've been to me ye oughter kape me in dhrink 
 the year." 
 
 Turning to the speaker, the young man recognized Pat 
 M'Cabe, whom he also associated with his evil fortunes.
 
 212 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and toward whom he now felt a strong vindictiveness, 
 the sudden and unreasoning anger of intoxication. In 
 reply, therefore, he threw the contents of his glass into 
 Pat's face, saying with a curse, 
 
 "That is the way I drink with such as you." 
 
 Instantly there was a bar-room brawl of the ordinary 
 brutal type, from whose details we gladly escape. At- 
 tracted by the uproar, a policeman was soon on hand, 
 and both the combatants were arrested and marched off 
 to the nearest police station. Bruised, bleeding, di- 
 sheveled, and with rent garments, Haldane again passed 
 through the streets as a criminal, with the rabble hooting 
 after him. But now there was no intolerable sense of 
 shame as at first. He had become a criminal at heart ; 
 he had dehberately and consciously degraded himself, 
 and his whole aspect had come to be in keeping with his 
 character. 
 
 It may be objected that the transformation had been 
 too rapid. It had not been rapid. His mother com- 
 menced preparing him for this in the nursery by her weak 
 mdulgence. She had sown the seeds of which his pres- 
 ent actions were the legitimate outgrowth. The weeds of 
 his evil nature had been unchecked when httle, and now 
 they were growing so rank as to overshadow all. 
 
 Multitudes go to ruin who must trace their wrong bias 
 back to cultivated and even Christian homes.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 GOD SENT HIS ANGEL. 
 
 The mad excitement of anger and drunkenness was 
 speedily followed by stupor, and the night during which 
 Haldane was locked up in the station-house was a blank. 
 The next morning he was decidedly ill as the result of his 
 debauch ; for the after-effects of the vile liquor he had 
 drank was such as to make any creature save rational 
 man shun it in the future with utter loathing. 
 
 But the officers of the law had not the slightest con- 
 sideration for his aching head and jarring nerves. He 
 was hustled off to the pohce court with others, and he now 
 seemed in harmony with the place and company. 
 
 Pat M'Cabe was a veteran in these matters, and had 
 his witnesses ready, who swore to the truth, and any 
 thing else calculated to assist Pat, their crony, out of his 
 scrape. Unfortunately for Haldane, the truth was against 
 him, and he remained sullen and silent, making no de- 
 fense. The natural result, therefore, of the brief hearing, 
 was his committal to the common jail for ten days, and 
 the liberation of Pat, with a severe reprimand. 
 
 Thus, after the lapse of a few brief weeks, Haldane 
 found himself in the same cell whence he had gone out 
 promising and expecting to accomplish so much. He 
 could not help recalling his proud words to his mother 
 and Mrs. Arnot as he looked around the bare walls, and 
 he was sufficiently himself again to realize partially how 
 complete and disgraceful had been his defeat. But such 
 was his mood that it could find no better expression than 
 a malediction upon himself and the world in general. 
 Then, throwing himself upon his rude and narrow couch, 
 
 213
 
 014 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 he again resigned himself to his stupor, from which he 
 had been aroused to receive his sentence. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when he awoke, and his 
 cell was already growing dusky with the coming night. 
 It was a place congenial to shadows, and they came 
 early and lingered till the sun was high. 
 
 But as Haldane slowly regained full consciousness, and 
 recalled all that had transpired, he felt himself to be 
 under a deeper shadow than the night could cast. The 
 world condemned him, and he deserved condemnation ; 
 but he was also deserving of pity. Scarcely more than 
 twenty, he had seemingly spoiled his life utterly. It was 
 torment to remember the past, and the future was still 
 darker; for his outraged physical nature so bitterly re- 
 sented its wrongs by racking pains that it now seemed to 
 him that even a brief career of sensual gratification was 
 impossible, or so counterbalanced with suffering as to be 
 revolting. Though scarcely more than across the thresh- 
 old of life, existence had become an unmitigated evil. 
 Had he been brought up in an atmosphere of flippant 
 skepticism he would have flung it away as he would a 
 handful of nettles ; but his childish memory had been 
 made familiar with that ancient Book whose truths, like 
 anchors, enabled many a soul on the verge of wreck to 
 outride the storm. He was too well acquainted with its 
 teachings to entertain for a moment the shallow theory 
 that a man can escape the consequences of folly, villainy, 
 and unutterable baseness by merely ceasing to breathe. 
 
 He could not eat the coarse food brought to him for 
 supper, and his only craving was for something to quench 
 his feverish thirst. His long lethargy was followed by 
 corresponding sleeplessness and preternatural activity of 
 brain. That night became to him like the day of judg- 
 ment ; for it seemed as if his memory would recall every- 
 thing he had ever done or said, and place all before him 
 in the most dreary and discouraging aspect.
 
 GOD SENT HIS ANGEL. 21S 
 
 He saw his beautiful and aristocratic home, which he 
 had forfeited so completely that the prison would be more 
 endurable than the forced and painful toleration of his 
 presence, which was the best he could hope for from his 
 mother and sisters ; and he felt that he would much 
 rather stay where he was for life than again meet old 
 neighbors and companions. But he now saw how, with 
 that home and his father's honored name as his vantage 
 ground, he might have made himself rich and honored. 
 
 The misspent days and years of the past became like 
 so many reproachful ghosts, and he realized that he had 
 idled away the precious seed-time of his life, or, rather, 
 had been busy sowing thorns and nettles, that had grown- 
 all too quickly and rankly. Thousands had been spent 
 on his education ; and yet he was oppressed with a sense 
 of his ignorance and helplessness. Rude contact with 
 the world had thoroughly banished self-conceit, and he 
 saw that his mind was undisciplined and his knowledge 
 so superficial and fragmentary as to be almost useless. 
 The editor of the paper whose columns he had hoped to- 
 illumine told him that he could not even write correctly. 
 
 While in bitterness of soul he cursed himself for his 
 wasted life, he knew that he was not wholly to blame. 
 Indeed, in accordance with a trait as old as fallen man, 
 he sought to lay the blame on another. He saw that 
 his own folly had ever found an ally in his mother's in- 
 dulgence, and that, instead of holding him with a firm, yet 
 gentle hand to his tasks and duties, she had been the first 
 to excuse him from them and to palliate his faults. In- 
 stead of recalling her fond and blind idolatry with tender- 
 ness, he felt like one who had been treacherously poisoned 
 with a wine that was sweet while it rested on the palate, 
 but whose after-taste is vile, and whose final effect is death. 
 
 There is no memory that we cherish so sacredly and 
 tenderly as that of our parents' kind and patient love. It 
 often softens the heart of the hardened man and aban-
 
 5216 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 doncd woman when all other influences are powerless. 
 Ikit when love degenerates into idolatry and indulgence, 
 and those to whom the child is given as a sacred trust 
 permit it to grow awry, and develop into moral deformity, 
 men and women, as did Haldane, may breathe curses on 
 the blindness and weakness that was the primal cause of 
 their life-failure. Throughout that long and horrible 
 night he felt only resentment toward his mother, and 
 cherished no better purpose toward her than was em- 
 bodied in his plan to wring from her, even by methods 
 that savored of black-mail, the means of living a dissi- 
 pated life in some city where he was unknown, and could 
 lose himself in the multitude. 
 
 But the ten days of enforced seclusion and sohtude 
 that must intervene seemed like an eternity. With a 
 shudder he thought of the real eternity, beyond, when 
 the power to excite or stupefy his lower nature would be 
 gone forever. That shadow was so dark and cold that 
 it seemed to chill his very soul, and by a resolute effort 
 of Avill he compelled his mind to dwell only on the im- 
 mediate future and the past. 
 
 Day at last dawned slowly and dimly in his cell, and 
 found him either pacing up and down like some wild 
 creature in its cage, turning so often by reason of the 
 limited space as to be almost dizzy, or else sitting on his 
 couch with his haggard face buried in his hands. 
 
 After fighting all night against the impulse to think 
 about Mrs. Arnot and her niece, he at last gave up the 
 struggle, and permitted his mind to revert to them. 
 Such thoughts were only pain now, and yet for some 
 reason it seemed as if his mind were drawn irresistibly 
 toward them. He felt that his deep regret was as useless 
 and unavailing as the November wind that sweeps back 
 and forth the withered and fallen leaves. His whole frame 
 would at times tremble with gusts of remorseful passion, 
 and again he would sigh long and drearily.
 
 GOD SENT HIS ANGEL. 217 
 
 He now realized what a priceless opportunity he had 
 lost. It was once his privilege to enter Mrs. Arnot's beau- 
 tiful home assured of welcome. She had been deeply 
 interested in him for his mother's sake, and might have 
 become so for his own. He had been privileged to meet 
 Laura Romeyn as her equal, at least in social estimation,, 
 and he might have made himself worthy of her esteem, 
 and possibly of her affection. He saw that he had fool- 
 ishly clamored, like a spoiled child, for that which he 
 could only hope to possess by patient waiting and manly 
 devotion ; and now, with a regret that was like a serpent's 
 tooth, he felt that such devotion might have been rewarded. 
 
 But a few months ago, whose life had been more rich 
 with promise than his, or to whom had been given a 
 better vantage-ground? And yet he had already found 
 the lowest earthly perdition possible, and had lost hope 
 of any thing better. 
 
 In his impotent rage and despair he fairly gnashed his 
 teeth and cursed himself, his fate, and those who had led 
 to his evil fortunes. Then, by a natural revulsion of 
 feeling, he sobbed like a child that has lost its way and 
 can discover no returning path, and whose heart the 
 darkness of the fast-approaching night fills with unutter- 
 able dread. 
 
 He was a criminal — in his despair he never hoped ta 
 be any thing else— but he was not a hardened criminal 
 and was still capable of wishing to be different. In the 
 memory of his bitter experience a pure and honorable 
 life now appeared as beautiful as it was impossible. He 
 had no expectation, however, of ever living such a life, 
 for pride, the corner-stone of his character, had given 
 way, and he was too greatly discouraged at the time to> 
 purpose reform even in the future. Without the spur and 
 incentive of hope we become perfectly helpless in evil ; 
 therefore all doctrines and philosophies which tend to 
 quench or limit hope, or which are bounded by the nar-
 
 ■218 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 TOW horizon of time and earth, are, in certain emergen- 
 cies, but dead weightS; '^ "Egging down the soul. 
 
 At last, from sheer exhaustion, he threw himself on his 
 couch, and fell into a troubled sleep, filled with broken 
 and distorted visions of the scenes that had occupied his 
 "Waking hours. But he gradually became quieter, and it 
 appeared in his dream as if he saw a faint dawning in 
 the east which grew brighter until a distinct ray of light 
 streamed from an infinite distance to himself. Along 
 this shining pathway an angel seemed approaching him. 
 The vision grew so distinct and real that he started up 
 and saw Mrs. Arnot sitting in the doorway, quietly 
 "watching him. Confused and oblivious of the past, he 
 ■stepped forward to speak to her with the natural instinct 
 ■of a gentleman. Then the memory of all that had oc- 
 curred rolled before him like a black torrent, and he 
 shrank back to his couch and buried his face in his 
 hands. But when Mrs. Arnot came and placed her 
 hand on his shoulder, saying gently, but very gravely, 
 ■" Egbert, since you would not come to me I have come 
 to you," he felt that his vision was still true, and that 
 God had sent His angel.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIl. 
 
 FACING THE CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 A YOUNG man of Haldane's age is capable of despair- 
 ing thoughts, and even of desperate moods, of quite 
 extended continuance ; but it usually requires a long- 
 life-time of disaster and sin to bury hope so deep that the 
 stone of its sepulcher is not rolled away as the morning 
 dawns. Haldane had thought that his hope was dead ;. 
 but Mrs. Arnot's presence, combined with her manner, 
 soon made it clear, even to himself, that it was not ; and. 
 yet it was. but a weak and trembling hope, scarcely as- 
 sured of its right to exist, that revived at her touch and 
 voice. His heart both clung to and shrank from the 
 pure, good woman who stood beside him. 
 
 He trembled, and his breast heaved convulsively for a 
 few moments, and she quietly waited until he should 
 grow more calm, only stroking his bowed head once or 
 twice with a slight and reassuring caress. At last he 
 asked in a low, hoarse voice, 
 
 " Do you know why I am here? " 
 
 " Yes, Egbert." 
 
 "And yet you have come in kindness — in mercy, - 
 rather." 
 
 " I have come because I am deeply interested in you." 
 
 " I am not worthy — I am not fit for you to touch." 
 ' I am glad you feel so." 
 
 "Then why do you come?" 
 
 " Because I wish to help you to become worthy." 
 
 "That's impossible. It's too late." 
 
 " Perhaps it is. That is a question for you alone to de- 
 cide ; but I wish you to think well before you do decide it." 
 
 "Pardon me, Mrs. Arnot," he said emphatically, rais- 
 219
 
 220 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ing his head, and dashing away bitter tears ; " the world 
 has decided that question for me, and all have said in 
 one harsh, united voice, 'You shall not rise.' It has 
 ground me under its heel as vindictively as if I were a 
 viper. You are so unlike the world that you don't know 
 it. It has given me no chance whatever." 
 
 " Egbert, what have you to do with the world? " 
 
 " God knows I wanted to recover what I had lost," he 
 continued in the same rapid tone. "God knows I left 
 this cell weeks since with the honest purpose of working 
 my way up to a position that would entitle me to your 
 respect, and change my mother's shame into pride. But I 
 found a mad-dog cry raised against me. And this pro- 
 fessedly Christian town has fairly hunted me back to this 
 prison." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot sighed deeply, but after a moment said, 
 " I do not excuse the Christian town, neither can I ex- 
 cuse you." 
 
 " You too, then, blame me, and side against me." 
 
 "No, Egbert, I side with you, and yet I blame you 
 deeply ; but I pity you more." 
 
 He rose, and paced the cell with his old, restless steps. 
 "'It's no use," he said ; " the world says, 'Go to the 
 devil,' and gives me no chance to do otherwise." 
 
 " Do you regard the world — whatever you may mean, 
 by the phrase — as your friend ? " 
 
 " Friend ! " he repeated, with bitter emphasis. 
 
 " Why, then, do you take its advice? I did not come 
 here to tell you to go to perdition." 
 
 " But if the world sets its face against me like a flint, 
 what is there for me to do but to remain in prison or hide 
 in a desert, unless I do what I had purposed, defy it and 
 strike back, though it be only as a worm that tries to 
 sting the foot that crushes it." 
 
 " Egbert, if you should die, the world would forget that 
 you had ever existed, in a few days."
 
 FACING THE CONSEQUENCES. 221 
 
 " Certainly. It would give me merely a passing thought 
 as of a nuisance that had been abated." 
 
 " Well, then, would it not be wise to forget the world 
 for a little while ? You are shut away from it for the 
 present, and it cannot molest you. In the meantime you 
 can settle some very important personal questions. The 
 world has power over your fate only as you give it power. 
 You need not he like a helpless worm in its path, waiting 
 to be crushed. Get up like a man, and take care of your- 
 self. The world may let you starve, but it cannot pre- 
 vent you from becoming good and true and manly ; if you 
 do become so, however, rest assured the world will eventu- 
 ally find a place for you, and, perhaps, an honored place. 
 But be that as it may, a good Christian man is sustained 
 by something far more substantial than the world' s breath. " 
 
 Out of respect for Mrs. Arnot, Haldane was silent. He 
 supposed that her proposed remedy for his desperate 
 troubles was that he should "become a Christian," and 
 to this phrase he had learned to give only the most con- 
 ventional meaning. 
 
 "Becoming a Christian," in his estimation, was the 
 making of certain professions, going through peculiar and 
 abnormal experiences, and joining a church, the object 
 of all this being to escape a " wrath to come " in the in- 
 definite future. To begin with, he had not the slightest 
 idea how to set in motion these spiritual evolutions, had 
 he desired them ; and to his intense and practical nature 
 the whole subject was as unattractive as a library of 
 musty and scholastic books. He wanted some remedy 
 that applied to this world, and would help him now. He 
 did not associate Mrs. Arnot's action with Christian prin- 
 ciple, but believed it to be due to the peculiar and 
 natural kindness of her heart. Christians in general had 
 not troubled themselves about him, and, as far as he 
 could judge, had turned as coldly from him as had others. 
 His mother had always been regarded as an eminently
 
 222 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 religious woman, and yet he knew that she was morbidly 
 sensitive to the world's opinion and society's verdict. 
 
 From childhood he had associated religion with nu- 
 merous Sunday restraints and the immaculate mourning- 
 dress which seemed chiefly to occupy his mother's 
 thoughts during the hour preceding service. He had no 
 conception of a faith that could be to him what the 
 Master's strong sustaining hand was to the disciple who 
 suddenly found himself sinking in a stormy sea. 
 
 It is not strange that the distressed in body or mind 
 (turn away from a religion of dreary formalities and vague, 
 uncomprehended mental processes. Instant and practi- 
 cal help is what is craved ; and just such help Christ ever 
 gave when He came to manifest God's will and ways to 
 men. By whose authority do some religious teachers 
 ■now lead the suffering through such a round-about, in- 
 tricate, or arid path of things to be done and doctrines to 
 be accepted before bringing them to Christ? 
 
 But when a mind has become mystified with pre- 
 conceived ideas and prejudices, it is no easy task to reveal 
 to them the truth, however simple. Mrs. Arnot had come 
 into the light but slowly herself, and she had passed 
 through too many deep and prolonged spiritual experi- 
 ences to hope for any immediate and radical change in 
 Haldane. Indeed, she was in great doubt whether he 
 would ever receive the faithful words she proposed speak- 
 ing to him ; and she fully believed that any thing he 
 attempted in his own strength would again end in dis- 
 heartening failure. 
 
 " Egbert," she said gently, but very gravely, " have 
 you fully settled it in your own mind that I am your friend 
 and wish you well ? ' ' 
 
 " How can I believe otherwise, since you are here, and 
 speaking to me as you do ? " 
 
 " W'ell, I am going to test your faith in me and my 
 kindness. I am going to speak plainly, and perhaps
 
 FACING THE CONSEQUENCES. 223 
 
 you may think even harshly. You are very sick, and 
 if I am to be your physician I must give you some sharp, 
 decisive treatment. Will you remember through it all 
 that my only motive is to make you well ? " 
 
 " I will try to." 
 
 *' You have kept away from me a long time. Perhaps 
 when released from this place you will again avoid me, 
 and I may never have another opportunity like the pres- 
 ent. Now, while you have a chance to think, I am go- 
 ing to ask you to face the consequences of your present 
 course. Within an hour after passing out of this cell you 
 will have it in your power to trample on your better na- 
 ture and stupefy your mind. But now, if you will, you 
 have a chance to use the powers God has given you, and 
 settle finally on your plan of life." 
 
 "I have already trampled on my manhood — what is 
 worse, I have lost it. I haven't any courage or strength 
 left." 
 
 " That can scarcely be true of one but little more than 
 twenty. You are to be here in quietness for the next ten 
 days, I learn. It is my intention, so far as it is in my 
 power to bring it about, that you deliberately face the 
 consequences of your present course during this time. 
 By the consequences I do not mean what the world will 
 think of you, but, rather, the personal results of your ac- 
 tion — what you must suffer while you are in the world, 
 and what you must suffer when far beyond the world. 
 Egbert, are you pleased with yourself? are you satisfied 
 with yourself? " 
 
 " I loathe myself." 
 
 "You can get aw^ay from the world — you are away 
 from it now, and soon you will be away from it finally — 
 but you can never get away from yourself. Are you 
 willing to face an eternal consciousness of defeat, failure, 
 and personal baseness ? " 
 
 He shuddered, but was silent.
 
 224 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Tlicre is no place in (}od's pure heaven for the 
 drunkard — the morally loathsome and deformed. Are 
 you willing to be swept away among the chaff and the 
 thorns, and to have, forever, the shameful and humiliat- 
 ing knowledge that you rightfully belong to the rubbish 
 of the universe ? Are you willing to have a sleepless 
 memory tell you in every torturing way possible what a 
 noble, happy man you might have been, but would not 
 be ? Your power to drown memory and conscience, and 
 stupefy your mind, will last a little while only at best. 
 How are you going to endure the time when you must 
 remember every thing and think of every thing ? These 
 are more important questions than what the world thinks 
 of you." 
 
 " Have you no pity ? " he groaned. 
 
 "Yes, my heart overflows with pity. Is it not kind- 
 ness to tell you whither your path is leading? If I had 
 the power I would lay hold of you, and force you to 
 come with me into the path of life and safety," she an- 
 swered, with a rush of tears to her eyes. 
 
 Her sympathy touched him deeply, and disarmed her 
 words of all power to awaken resentment, 
 
 " Mrs, Arnot," he cried, passionately, "I did mean 
 — I did try — to do better when I left this place ; but, be- 
 tween my own accursed weakness and the hard-hearted 
 world, I am here again, and almost without hope." 
 
 " Egbert, though I did not discourage you at the time, 
 I had little hope of your accomplishing any thing when 
 you left this cell some weeks since. You went out to re- 
 gain your old position and the world's favor, as one 
 might look for a jewel or sum of money he had lost. 
 You can never gain even these advantages in the way 
 you proposed, and if you enjoy them again the cause 
 will exist, not in what you do only, but chiefly in what 
 you are. When you started out to win the favor of so- 
 ciety, from which you had been alienated partly by mis-
 
 FACING THE CONSEQUENCES. 225 
 
 fortune, but largely through your own wrong action, 
 there was no radical change in your character, or even 
 in your controlling motives. You regretted the evil be- 
 cause of its immediate and disagreeable consequences. 
 I do not excuse the world's harshness toward the erring ; 
 but, after all, if you can disabuse your mind of prejudice 
 you will admit that its action is very natural, and would, 
 probably, have been your own before you passed under 
 this cloud. Consider what the world knows of you. It, 
 after all, is quite shrewd in judging whom it may trust 
 and whom it is safe to keep at arm's length. Knowing 
 yourself and your own weaknesses as you do, could you 
 honestly recommend yourself to the confidence of any 
 one ? With your character unchanged, what guarantee 
 have you against the first temptation or gust of passion to 
 which you are subjected ? You had no lack of wounded 
 pride and ambition when you started out, but you will 
 surely admit that such feehngs are of little value com- 
 pared with Christian integrity and manly principle, which 
 render any thing dishonorable or base impossible. 
 
 " I do not consider the world's favor worth very much, 
 but the world's respect is, for it usually respects only 
 what is respectable. As you form a character that you 
 can honestly respect yourself, you will find society grad- 
 ually learning to share in that esteem. Believe me, Eg- 
 bert, if you ever regain the world's lost favor, which vol' 
 value so highly, you will discover the first earnest of i: 
 in your own changed and purified character. The world 
 will pay no heed to any amount of self-assertion, and 
 will remain equally indifferent to appeals and upbraid- 
 ings ; but sooner or later it will find out just what you 
 are in your essential life, and will estimate you accord- 
 ingly. I have dwelt on this phase of your misfortune 
 fully, because I see that it weighs so heavily on your 
 heart. Can you accept my judgment in the matter? Re- 
 member, I have lived nearly three times as long as you
 
 226 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 have, and speak from ripe experience. I have always 
 been a close observer of society, and am quite sure I am 
 right. If you were my own son I would use the same 
 words." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnol," he replied slowly, with contracted 
 brow, "you are giving me much to think about. I fear 
 I have been as stupid as I have been bad. My whole 
 life seems one wretched blunder," 
 
 " Ah, if you will only think, I shall have strong hopes 
 of you. But in measuring these questions do not use the 
 inch rule of time and earth only. As I have said before, 
 remember you will soon have done with earth forever, 
 but never can you get away from God, nor be rid of 
 yourself. You are on wretched terms with both, and 
 will be, whatever happens, until your nature is brought 
 into harmony with God's will. We are so made, so de- 
 signed in our every fiber, that evil tortures us like a dis- 
 eased nerve ; and it always will till we get rid of it. 
 Therefore, Egbert, remember — O that I could burn it 
 into your consciousness — the best you can gain from your 
 proposed evil course is a brief respite in base and sensual 
 stupefaction, or equally artificial and unmanly excite- 
 ment, and then endless waking, bitter memories, and 
 torturing regret. Face this truth now, before it is too 
 late. Good-by for a time. I will come again when I 
 can ; or you can send for me when you please ; " and 
 she gave him her hand in cordial pressure. 
 
 He did not say a word, but his face was very white, 
 and it was evident that her faithful words had opened a 
 prospect that had simply appalled him.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HOW EVIL ISOLATES. 
 
 If Haldane had been left alone on an ice-floe in the 
 Arctic Ocean he could scarcely have felt worse than he 
 did during the remainder of the day after Mrs. Arnot's 
 departure. A dreary and increasing sense of isolation 
 oppressed him. The words of his visitor, " What have 
 you to do with the world?" and " If you were dead i' 
 would forget you in a few days," repeated themselves 
 over and over again. His vindictive feeling against so- 
 ciety died out in the consciousness of his w^eakness and 
 insignificance. What is the use of one's smiting a moun- 
 tain with his fist ? Only the puny hand feels the blow. 
 The world became, under Mrs. Arnot's words, too large 
 and vague a generality even to be hated. 
 
 In order to be a misanthrope one must also be an ego- 
 tist, dwarfing the objects of his spite, and exaggerating 
 the small atom that has arrayed itself against the uni- 
 verse. It is a species of insanity, wherein a mind has 
 lost perception of the correct relationship between differ- 
 ent existences. The poor hypochondriac who imagined 
 himself a mountain was a hving satire on many of his 
 fellow-creatures, who differ only in being able to keep 
 similar delusions to themselves. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's plain, honest, yet kindly words had thrown 
 down the walls of prejudice, and Haldane's mind lay 
 open to the truth. As has been said, his first impression 
 was a strange and miserable sense of loneliness. He saw 
 what a slender hold he had upon the rest of humanity. 
 The majority knew nothing of him, while, with few ex- 
 ceptions, those who were aware of his existence despised 
 
 227
 
 228 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and detested him, and would breathe more freely if as- 
 sured of his death. He instinctively felt that the natural 
 affections of his mother and sisters were borne down and 
 almost overwhelmed by his course and character. If 
 they had any visitors in the seclusion to which his dis- 
 grace had driven them, his name would be avoided with 
 morbid sensitiveness, and yet all would be as painfully 
 conscious of him as if he were a corpse in the room, 
 which by some monstrous necessity could not be buried. 
 While they might shed natural tears, he was not sure but 
 that deep in their hearts would come a sense of relief 
 should they hear that he was dead, and so could not 
 deepen the stain he had already given to a name once so 
 respectable. He knew that his indifference and over- 
 bearing manner toward his sisters had alienated them 
 from him ; while in respect to Mrs. Haldane, her aristo- 
 cratic conventionality, the most decided trait of her char- 
 acter, would always be in sharp contest with her strong 
 mother-love, and thus he would ever be only a source of 
 disquiet and wretchedness whether present or absent. In 
 view of the discordant elements and relations now exist- 
 ing, there was not a place on earth less attractive than 
 his own home. 
 
 It may at first seem a contradiction to say that the 
 thought of Mrs. Arnot gave him a drearier sense of isola- 
 tion than the memory of all else. In her goodness she 
 seemed to belong to a totally different world from himself 
 and people in general. He had nothing in common with 
 her. She seemed to come to him almost literally as an 
 angel of mercy, and from an infinite distance, and her 
 visits must, of necessity, be like'' those of the angels, few 
 and far between, and, in view of his character, must soon 
 cease. He shrank from her purity and nobility even 
 while drawn toward her by her sympathy. He instinct- 
 ively felt that in all her deep commiseration of him she 
 could not for a moment tolerate the debasing evil of his
 
 HOW EVIL ISOLATES. 229 
 
 nature, and that this evil, retained, would speedily and in- 
 evitably separate them forever. Could he be rid of it? 
 He did not know. He could not then see how. In his 
 weakness and despondency it seemed inwrought with 
 every fiber of his being, and an essential part of himself. 
 As for Laura, she was like a bright star that had set, and 
 was no longer above his dim horizon. 
 
 As he felt himself thus losing his hold on the compan- 
 ionship and remembrance of others, he was thrown back 
 upon himself, and this led him to feel with a sort of dreary 
 foreboding that it would be a horrible thing thus to be 
 chained forever to a self toward which the higher facul- 
 ties of his soul must ever cherish only hatred and loath- 
 ing. Even now he hated himself — nay, more, he was en- 
 raged with himself — in view of the folly of which he had 
 been capable. What could be worse than the endless 
 companionship of the base nature which had already 
 dragged him down so low ? 
 
 As the hours passed, the weight upon his heart grew 
 heavier, and the chill of dread more unendurable. He 
 saw his character as another might see it. He saw a na- 
 ture to which, from infancy, a wrong bias had been given, 
 made selfish by indulgence, imperious and strong only in 
 carrying out impulses and in gratifying base passions, but 
 weak as water in resisting evil and thwarting its vile in- 
 clinations. The pride and hope that had sustained him 
 in what he regarded as the great effort of his life were 
 gone, and he felt neither strength nor courage to attempt 
 anything further. He saw himself helpless and prostrate 
 before his fate, and yet that fate was so terrible that he 
 shrank from it with increasing dread. 
 
 What could he do ? Was it possible to do any thing ? 
 Had he not lost his footing ? If a man is caught in the 
 rapids, up to a certain point his struggle against the tide 
 is full of hope, but beyond that point no effort can avail. 
 Had he not been swept so far down toward the final
 
 230 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 plunge that grim despair were better than frantic but 
 vain effort ? 
 
 And yet he felt that he could not give himself up to the 
 absolute mastery of evil without one more struggle. Was 
 there any chance? Was he capable of making the need- 
 ful effort ? 
 
 Thus hopes and fears, bitter memories and passionate 
 regrets, swept to and fro through his soul like stormy 
 gusts. A painful experience and Mrs. Arnot's words 
 were teaching the giddy, thoughtless young fellow what 
 life meant, and were forcing upon his attention the in- 
 evitable questions connected with it which must be solved 
 sooner or later, and which usually grow more difficult as 
 the consideration of them is delayed, and they become 
 complicated. As his cell grew dusky with its early twi- 
 light, as he thought of another long night whose darkness 
 would be light compared with the shadow brooding on 
 his prospects, his courage and endurance gave way. 
 
 With something of the feeling of a terror-stricken child 
 he called the under-sheriff, and asked for wridng mate- 
 rials. With a pencil he wrote hastily : 
 
 Mrs. Arnot : — I entreat you to visit me once more to-day. 
 Your words have left me in torture. I cannot face the conse- 
 quences, and yet see no way of escape. It would be very cruel 
 to leave me to my despairing thoughts for another night, and 
 you are not cruel. 
 
 In dispatching the missive he said. " I can promise 
 that if this note is delivered to Mrs. Arnot at once, the 
 bearer shall be well paid." 
 
 Moments seemed hours while he waited for an answer. 
 Suppose the letter was not delivered — suppose Mrs. Ar- 
 not was absent. A hundred miserable conjectures flitted 
 through his mind ; but his confidence in his friend was 
 such that even his morbid fear did not suggest that she 
 would not come.
 
 HOW EVIL ISOLATES. 231- 
 
 The lady was at the dinner-table when the note was 
 handed to her, and after reading it she rose hastily and 
 excused herself. 
 
 •' Where are you going ? " asked her husband sharply. 
 
 " A person in trouble has sent for me." 
 
 " Well, unless the peno7i is in the midst of a surgical 
 operation, he, she, or it, whichever this person may be, 
 can wait till you finish your dinner." 
 
 " I am going to visit Egbert Haldane," said Mrs. Ar- 
 not quietly. "Jane, please tell Michael to come round 
 with the carriage immediately." 
 
 "You visit the city prison at this hour! Now I pro- 
 test. The young rake probably has the dehrium tremens. 
 Send our physician rather, if some one must go, though 
 leaving him to the jailer and a strait-jacket would be bet- 
 ter still." 
 
 " Please excuse me," answered his wife, with her hand 
 on the door-knob ; " you forget my relations to Mrs. 
 Haldane ; her son has sent for me." 
 
 " ' Her relations to Mrs. Haldane ! " As if she were 
 not always at the beck and call of every beggar and 
 criminal in town ! I do wish I had a wife who was too 
 much of a lady to have any thing to do with this low 
 scum." 
 
 A few moments later Mr. Arnot broke out anew with 
 muttered complaint and invective, as he heard the car- 
 riage driven rapidly away. 
 
 As by the flickering light of a dip candle Mrs. Arnot 
 saw Haldane' s pale, haggard face, she did not regret 
 that she had come at once, for a glance gave to her the 
 evidence of a human soul in its extremity. 
 
 In facing these deep questions of life, some regard 
 themselves as brave or philosophical. Perhaps it were 
 nearer the truth to say they are stolid, and are staring at 
 that which they do not understand and cannot yet real- 
 ize. Where in history do we read — who from a ripe ex-
 
 232 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 pericnce can give — an instance of a happy life develop- 
 ing under the deepening shadow of evil? Suppose one 
 has seen high types of character and happiness, and was 
 capable of appreciating them, but finds that he has cher- 
 ished a sottish, beastly nature so long that it has become 
 his master, promising to hold him in thralldom ever after- 
 ward ; — can there be a more wretched form of captivity ? 
 The ogre of a debased nature drags the soul away from 
 light and happiness — from all who are good and pure — 
 to the hideous solitude of self and memory. 
 
 There are -those who will be incredulous and even re- 
 sentful in view of this picture, but it will not be the first 
 time that facts have been quarreled with. It is true that 
 many are writhing and groaning in this cruel bondage, 
 mastered and held captive by some debasing appetite or 
 passion, perhaps by many. Sometimes, with a bitter, 
 despairing sorrow, of which superficial observers of life 
 can have no idea, they speak of these horrid chains ; 
 sometimes they tug at them almost frantically. A few 
 escape, but more are dragged down and away — away 
 from honorable companionships and friendships ; away 
 from places of trust, from walks of usefulness and safety ; 
 away from parents, from wife and children, until the 
 awful isolation is complete, and the guilty soul finds it- 
 self alone with the sin that mastered it, conscious that 
 God only will ever see and remember. Human friends 
 will forget — they must forget in order to obtain relief from 
 an object that has become morally too unsightly to be 
 looked upon ; and in mercy they are so created that they 
 can forget, though it may be long before it is possible. 
 
 There are people who scout this awful mystery of evil. 
 They have beautiful little theories of their own, which 
 they have spun in the seclusion of their studies. They 
 keep carefully within their shady, flower-bordered walks, 
 and ignore the existence of the world's dusty highways, 
 in which so many are fainting and being trampled upon.
 
 HOW EVIL ISOLATES. 233 
 
 What tliey do not see does not exist. What they do not 
 beheve is not true. They cannot condemn too severely 
 the lack of artistic taste and liberal culture which leads 
 any one to regard sin as other than a theologian's phrase 
 or a piquant element in human life, which otherwise 
 would be rather dull and flavorless. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot was not a theorist, nor was she the elegant 
 lady, wholly given to the esthetic culture that her hus- 
 band desired ; she was a large-hearted woman, and she 
 understood human life and its emergencies sufficiently 
 well to tremble with apprehension when she saw the face 
 of Egbert Haldane, for she felt that a deathless soul in 
 its crisis — its deepest spiritual need — was looking to her 
 solely for help.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 IDEAL KNIGHTHOOD. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot again came directly to the youth and put 
 her hand on his shoulder with motherly freedom and 
 kindliness. Beyond even the word of sympathy is the 
 touch of sympathy, and it often conveys to the fainting 
 heart a subtle power to hope and trust again which the 
 materialist cannot explain. The Divine Physician often 
 touched those whom He healed. He laid His hand fear- 
 lessly on the leper from whom all shrank with inexpressi- 
 ble dread. The moral leper who trembled under Mrs. 
 Arnot's hand felt that he was not utterly lost and beyond 
 the pale of hope, if one so good and pure could still 
 touch him ; and there came a hope, like a ray struggling 
 through thick darkness, that the hand that caressed might 
 rescue him. 
 
 " Egbert," said the lady gravely, " tell me what I can 
 <Jo for you." 
 
 "I cannot face the consequences," he replied in a 
 Jow, shuddering tone. 
 
 "And do you only dread the consequences?" Mrs. 
 Arnot asked sadly. " Do you not think of the evil which 
 is the cause of your trouble ? " 
 
 " I can scarcely separate the sin from the suffering. 
 My mind is confused, and I am overwhelmed with fear 
 and loneliness. All who are good and all that is good 
 seemed to be slipping from me, and I should soon be 
 left only to my miserable self. O, Mrs. Arnot, no doubt 
 I seem to you like a weak, guilty coward. I seem so to 
 xnyself. If it were danger or difficulty I had to face I 
 234
 
 IDEAL KNIGHTHOOD. 235 
 
 would not fear ; but this slow, inevitable, increasing pres- 
 sure of a horrible fate, this seeing clearly that evil cuts 
 me off from hope and all happiness, and yet to feel that 
 I cannot escape from it — that I am too weak to break my 
 chains — it is more than I can endure. I fear that I should 
 have gone mad if you had not come. Do you think 
 there is any chance for me ? I feel as if I had lost my 
 manhood." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot took the chair which the sheriff had 
 brought on her entrance, and said quietly, " Perhaps 
 you have, Egbert ; many a man has lost what you mean- 
 by that term." 
 
 " You speak of it with a composure that I can scarcely 
 understand," said Haldane, with a quick glance of in- 
 quiry. " It seems to me an irreparable loss." 
 
 " It does not seem so great a loss to me," replied Mrs, 
 Arnot gently. "As your physician you must let me 
 speak plainly again. It seems to me that what you terrti 
 your manhood was composed largely of pride, conceit^ 
 ignorance of yourself, and inexperience of the worlds 
 You were liable to lose it at any time, just as you did^ 
 partly through your own folly and partly through the 
 wrong of others. You know, Egbert, that I have always 
 been interested in young men, and what many of then> 
 regard as their manhood is not of much value to them- 
 selves or any one else." 
 
 " Is it nothing to be so weak, disheartened, and de- 
 based that you lie prostrate in the mire of your own evil 
 nature, as it were, and with no power to rise?" he asked 
 bitterly. 
 
 " That is sad indeed." 
 
 " Well, that's just my condition — or I fear it is, though 
 your coming has brought a gleam of hope. Mrs. Arnot,'* 
 he continued passionately, " I don't know how to be dif- 
 ferent ; I don't feel capable of making any persistent and 
 successful effort, I feel that I have lost all moral force
 
 536 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and courage. The odds are too great. I can't get up 
 .again." 
 
 " Perhaps you cannot, Egbert," said Mrs. Arnot very 
 gravely ; " it would seem that some never do — " 
 
 He buried his face in his hands and groaned. 
 
 " You have, indeed, a difficult problem to solve, and, 
 looking at it from your point of view, I do not wonder 
 that it seems impossible." 
 
 "' Cannot you, then, give me any hope ? " 
 
 *' No, Egbert; /cannot. It is not in my power to 
 make you a good man. You know that I would do so if 
 I could." 
 
 "Would to God I had never lived, then!" he ex- 
 claimed, desperately. 
 
 " Can you offer God no better prayer than that? Will 
 you try to be calm, and listen patiently to me for a few 
 moments? When I said /could not give you hope — 1 
 could not make you a good man — I expressed one of my 
 strongest convictions. But I have not said, Egbert, that 
 there is no hope, no chance, for you. On the contrary, 
 there is abundant hope — yes, absolute certainty— of your 
 achieving a noble character, if you will set about it in the 
 right way. But as one of the first and indispensable con- 
 ditions of success, I wish you to realize that the task is 
 too great for you alone ; too great with my help ; too 
 great if the world that seems so hostile should unite to 
 "help you ; and yet neither I nor all the world could pre- 
 vent your success if you went to the right and true 
 source of help. Why have you forgotten God in your 
 emergency? Why are you looking solely to yourself 
 and to another weak fellow-creature like yourself? " 
 
 "You are in no respect like me, Mrs. Arnot, and it 
 seems profanation even to suggest the thought." 
 
 " I have the same nature. I struggle vainly and al- 
 most hopelessly against my peculiar weaknesses and 
 temptations and sorrows until I heard God saying,
 
 IDEAL KNIGHTHOOD. 237 
 
 ' Come, my child, let us work together. It is my will you 
 should do all you can yourself, and what you cannot do 
 I will do for you.' Since that time I have often had to 
 struggle hard, but never vainly. There have been sea- 
 sons when my burdens grew so heavy that I was ready to 
 faint ; but after appealing to my heavenly Father, as a 
 little child might cry for help, the crushing weight would 
 pass away, and I became able to go on my way relieved 
 and hopeful." 
 
 " I cannot understand it," said the young man, look- 
 ing at her in deep perplexity. 
 
 "That does not prevent its being true. The most 
 skillful physician cannot explain why certain beneficial 
 effects follow the use of certain remedies ; but when these 
 effects become an established fact of experience it were 
 sensible to employ the remedy as soon as possible. 
 One might suffer a great deal, and, perhaps, perish^ 
 while asking questions and waiting for answers. To my 
 mind the explanation is very simple. God is our Crea- 
 tor, and calls Himself our Father. It would be natural on 
 general principles that He should take a deep interest in 
 us ; but He assures us of the profoundest love, employing- 
 our tenderest earthly ties to explain how He feels toward 
 us. What is more natural than for a father to help a 
 child? What is more certain, also, than that a wise 
 father would teach a child to do all within his ability to 
 help himself, and so develop the powers with which he is 
 endowed ? Only infants are supposed to be perfectly 
 helpless." 
 
 "It would seem that what you say ought to be true 
 and yet I have always half-feared God — that is, when I 
 thought about Him at all. I have been taught that He 
 was to be served ; that He was a jealous God ; that He 
 was angry with the sinful, and that the prayers of the 
 wicked were an abomination. I am sure the Bible says 
 the latter is true, or some thing like it."
 
 238 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 " It is true. If you set your heart on some evil course, 
 or are deliberating some dishonesty or meanness, be 
 careful how you make long or short prayers to God 
 while willfully persisting in your sin. When a man is 
 robbing and cheating, though in the most legal manner 
 — when he is gratifying lust, hate, or appetite, and in- 
 tends to continue doing so — the less praying he does the 
 better. An avowed infidel is more acceptable. But the 
 sweetest music that reaches heaven is the honest cry for 
 help to forsake sin ; and the more sinful the heart that 
 thus cries out for deliverance the more welcome the ap- 
 peal. Let me illustrate vi'hat I mean by your own case. 
 If you should go out from this prison in the same spirit 
 that you did once before, seeking to gain position and 
 favor only for the purpose of gratifying your own pride, 
 — only that self might be advantaged, without any gen- 
 erous and disinterested regard for others, without any 
 recognition of the sacred duties you owe to God, and 
 content with a selfish, narrow, impure soul, — if, with 
 such a disposition, you should commence asking for 
 God's help as a means to these petty, miserable ends, 
 your prayers would, and with good reason, be an abomi- 
 nation to Him. But if you had sunk to far lower depths 
 than those in which you now find yourself, and should 
 cry out for purity, for the son ship of a regenerated char- 
 acter, your voice would not only reach your divine 
 Father's ear, but His heart, which would yearn toward 
 you with a tender commiseration that I could not feel 
 were you my only son." 
 
 The sincerity and earnestness of Mrs. Arnot's words 
 were attested by her fast-gathering tears. 
 
 " This is all new to me. But if God is so kindly dis- 
 posed toward us, — so ready to help, — why does He not 
 reveal Himself in this light more clearly ? why are we so 
 slow and long in finding Him out ? Until you came He 
 seemed against me,"
 
 IDEAL KNIGHTHOOD. 239 
 
 "We will not discuss this matter in general. Take 
 your own experience again. Perhaps it has been your 
 fault, not God's, that you misunderstood Him. He tries to 
 show how He feels toward us in many ways, chiefly by 
 His written Word, by what He leads His people to do for 
 us, and by His great mind acting directly on ours. Has 
 not the Bible been within your reach ? Have none of 
 God s servants tried to advise and help you? I think 
 you must have seen some such effort on my part when 
 you were an inmate of my home. I am here this even- 
 ing as God's messenger to you. All the hope I have of 
 you is inspired by His disposition and power to help you. 
 You may continue to stand aloof from Him, declining His 
 aid, just as you avoided your motive, and myself all these 
 weeks when we were longing to help you ; but if you sink, 
 yours will be the fate of one who refuses to grasp the 
 strong hand that is and ever has been seeking yours." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot," said Haldane thoughtfully, " if all you 
 say is true there is hope for me — there is hope for every 
 one." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot was silent for a moment, and then said, 
 with seeming abruptness, 
 
 " You have read of the ancient knights and their 
 deeds, have you not ? " 
 
 "Yes," was the wondering reply, "but the subject 
 seems very remote." 
 
 "You are in a position to realize my very ideal of 
 knightly endeavor." 
 
 "I, Mrs. Arnot ! What can you mean ? " 
 
 "Whether I am right or wrong I can soon explain 
 what I mean. The ancient knight set his lance in rest 
 against what seemed to him the wrongs and evils of the 
 world. In theory he was to be without fear and without 
 reproach — as pure as the white cross upon his mantle. 
 But in fact the average knight was very human. His 
 white cross was soon soiled by foreign travel, but too
 
 240 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 often not before his soul was stained with questionable 
 deeds. It was a life of adventure and excitement, and 
 abundantly gratifying to pride and ambition. While it 
 could be idealized into a noble calling, it too often ended 
 in a lawless, capricious career of seH"-indulgence. The 
 cross on the mantle symbolized the heavy blows and 
 sorrows inflicted on those who had the misfortune to 
 differ in opinion, faith, or race with the knight, the steel 
 of whose armor seemingly got into his heart, rather than 
 any personal self-denial. Without any moral change on 
 his own part, or being anyway better than they, he could 
 fight the infidel or those whose views differed from his 
 with great zest. 
 
 " But the man who will engage successfully in a 
 crusade against the evil of his own heart must have the 
 spirit of a true knight, for he attempts the most difficult 
 and heroic task within the limits of human endeavor. It 
 is comparatively easy to run a tilt against a fellow- 
 mortal, or an external evil ; but to set our lance in rest 
 against a cherished sin, a habit that has become our 
 second nature, and remorselessly ride it down, — to 
 grapple with a secret fault in the solitude of our own souU 
 with no applauding hands to spur us on, and fight and 
 wrestle for weary months, — years perhaps, — this does 
 require heroism of the highest order, and the man who 
 can do it is my ideal knight. 
 
 "You inveigh against the world, Egbert, as if it were 
 a harsh and remorseless foe, bent on crushing you ; but 
 you have far more dangerous enemies lurking in your 
 own heart. If you could thoroughly subdue these with 
 God's aid, you would at the same time overcome the 
 world, or find yourself so independent of it as scarcely to 
 care whether or no it gave you its favor. When you left 
 this prison before, you sought in the wrong way to win 
 the position you had lost. You were very proud of your 
 former standing ; but you had very little occasion to be»
 
 IDEAL KNIGHTHOOD. 241 
 
 for you had inherited it. The deeds of others, not your 
 own, had won it for you. If you had reahzed it, it gave 
 you a great vantage, but that was all. If you had been 
 content to have remained a conceited, commonplace 
 man, versed only in the fashionable jargon and follies of 
 the hour, and basing your claims on the wealth which you 
 had shown neither the ability nor industry to win, you 
 would never have had my respect. 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, such shadows of men are re- 
 spected by no one, not even themselves, even though they 
 may commit no deed which society condemns. But if in 
 this prison cell you set your face hke a flint against the 
 weaknesses and grave faults of your nature which have 
 brought you here, and which would have made you any 
 thing but an admirable man had you retained your old 
 position, — if, with God as your fast ally, you wage unre- 
 lenting and successful war against all that is unworthy 
 of a Christian manhood, — I will not only respect, I will 
 honor you. You will be one of my ideal knights." 
 
 As Mrs. Arnot spoke, Haldane's eyes kindled, and 
 his drooping manner was exchanged for an aspect that 
 indicated reviving hope and courage, 
 
 "I have lost faith in myself," he said slowly ; "and 
 as yet I have no faith in God ; but after what you have 
 said I do not fear Him as I did. I have faith in you, 
 however, Mrs. Arnot, and I would rather gain your re- 
 spect than that of all the world. You know me now 
 better than any one else. Do you truly believe that I 
 could succeed in such a struggle ? " 
 
 " Without faith in God you cannot. Even the ancient 
 knight, whose success depended so much on the skill 
 and strength of his arm, and the temper of his weapons 
 and armor, was supposed to spend hours in prayer be- 
 fore attempting any great thing. But with God's help 
 daily sought and obtained, you cannot fail. You can 
 achieve that which the world cannot take from you, —
 
 242 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 which will be a priceless possession after the world has 
 forgotten you and you it, — a noble character." 
 
 Haldane was silent several moments, then, drawing a 
 long breath, he said, slowly and humbly, 
 
 " How I am to do this I do not yet understand ; but 
 if you will guide me, I will attempt it." 
 
 "This book will guide you, Egbert," said Mrs. Arnot, 
 placing her Bible in his hands. " God Himself will guide 
 you if you ask sincerely. Good night." And she gave 
 him such a warm and friendly grasp of the hand as to 
 prove that evil had not yet wholly isolated him from the 
 pure and good.
 
 ' CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE LOW STARTING-POINT. 
 
 On the afternoon of the following day Mrs. Arnot 
 again visited Haldane, bringing him several letters from 
 his mother which had been sent in her care ; and she 
 urged that the son should write at once in a way that 
 would reassure the mother's heart. 
 
 In his better mood the young man's thoughts recurred to 
 his mother with a remorseful tenderness, and he eagerly 
 sought out the envelope bearing the latest date, and tore 
 it open. As he read, the pallor and pain expressed in his 
 face became so great that Mrs, Arnot was much troubled, 
 fearing that the letter contained evil tidings. 
 
 Without a word he handed it to her, and also two in- 
 closed paragraphs cut from newspapers. 
 
 " Do you think your mother would wish me to see it? " 
 asked Mrs. Arnot, hesitatingly. 
 
 " I wish you to see it, and it contains no injunctions of 
 secrecy. Indeed, she has been taking some very open 
 and decided steps which are here indicated." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot read : 
 
 My Unnatural Son : — Though you will not write me a 
 line, you still make it certain that I shall hear from you, as the 
 inclosed clippings from Hillaton papers may prove to you. You 
 have forfeited all claim on both your sisters and myself. Our 
 lawyer has been here to-day, and has shown me, what is only 
 too evident, that money would be a curse to you — that you 
 would squander it and disgrace yourself still more, if such a 
 thing were possible. As the property is wholly in my hands, I 
 shall arrange it in such a way that you shall never have a 
 chance to waste it. If you will comply with the following con- 
 243
 
 244 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 ditions I will supply all that is essential to one of your nature 
 and tastes. I stipulate that you leave Hillaton, and go to some 
 quiet place where our name is not known, and that you there 
 live so quietly that I shall hear of no more disgraceful acts like 
 those herein described. I have given up the hope of hearing 
 any thing good. If you will do this I will pay your board ar.d 
 grant you a reasonable allowance. If you will not do this, you 
 end all communication between us, and we must be as strangers 
 until you can show an entirely different spirit. 
 
 Yours in bitter shame and sorrow, 
 
 Emily Haldane. 
 
 The clippings were Mr, Shrumpf s version of his own 
 swindle, and a tolerably correct account of the events 
 which led to the present imprisonment. 
 
 "Will you accept your mother's offer?" Mrs. Arnot 
 asked, anxiously, for she was much troubled as to what 
 might be the effect of the unfortunate letter at this junc- 
 ture. 
 
 " No ! " he replied with sharp emphasis. 
 
 " Egbert, remember you have given your mother the 
 gravest provocation." 
 
 " I also remember that she did her best to m.ake me 
 the fool I have been, and she might have a little more 
 patience now. The truth is that mother's God was re- 
 spectability, and she will never forgive me for destroying 
 her idol." 
 
 " Read the other letters ; there may be that in them 
 which will be more reassuring." 
 
 " No, I thank you," he replied, bitterly ; " I have had 
 all that I can stand for one day. She believes the in- 
 fernal lie which that scoundrel Shrumpf tells, and gives 
 me no hearing ; " and he related to Mrs. Arnot the true 
 version of the affair. 
 
 She had the tact to see that his present perturbed con- 
 dition was not her opportunity, and she soon after left him 
 in a mood that promised little of good for the future. 
 
 But in the long, quiet hours that followed her depar-
 
 THE LOW STARTING-POINT. 245 
 
 ♦.ure his thoughts were busy. However much he might 
 think that others were the cause of his unhappy phght, 
 he had seen that he was far more to blame. It had 
 been made still more clear that, even if he could shift 
 this blame somewhat, he could not the consequences. 
 Mrs. Arnot's words had given him a glimpse of light, 
 and had revealed a path, which, though still vague and 
 uncertain, promised to lead out of the present labyrinth 
 of evil. During the morning hours he had dared to hope, 
 and even to pray, that he might find a way of escape 
 from his miserable self and the wretched condition to 
 which it had brought him. 
 
 For a long time he turned the leaves of Mrs. Arnot's 
 Bible, and here and there a text would flash out like a 
 light upon the clouded future, but as a general thing the 
 words had httle meaning. 
 
 To his ardent and somewhat imaginative nature she 
 had presented the struggle toward a better life in the most 
 attractive hght. He was not asked to do something which 
 was vague and mystical ; he was not exhorted to emotions 
 and beliefs of which he was then incapable, nor to forms 
 and ceremonies that were meaningless to him, nor to pro- 
 fessions equally hollow. On the contrary, the evils, the 
 defects of his own nature, were given an objective form, 
 and he could almost see himself, like a knight, with lance 
 in rest, preparing to run a tilt against the personal faults 
 which had done him such injury. The deeper philos- 
 ophy, that his heart was the rank soil from which sprang 
 these faults, like Cadmus' armed men, would come with 
 fuller experience. 
 
 But in a measure he had understood and had been in- 
 spired by Mrs. Arnot's thought. Although from a weak 
 mother's indulgence and his own, from wasted years and 
 bad companionships, his life was well-nigh spoiled, he 
 still had sufficient mind to see that to fight down the 
 clamorous passions of his heart into subjection would be
 
 246 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 a grand and heroic thing. If from the yielding mire of 
 his present self a noble and granite -like character could 
 be built up, so strongly and on such a sure foundation 
 that it would stand the shocks of time and eternity, it 
 were worth every effort of which human nature is capable. 
 Until Mrs. Arnot had spoken her wise and kind, yet hon- 
 est words, he had felt himself unable to stand erect, much 
 less to enter on a struggle which would tax the strongest. 
 
 But suppose God would deign to help, suppose it was 
 the divine purpose and practice to supplement the feeble 
 efforts of those who, like himself, sought to ally their 
 weakness to his strength, might not the Creator and the 
 creature, the Father and the child, unitedly achieve 
 what it were hopeless to attempt unaided ? 
 
 Thoughts hke these more or less distinctly had been 
 thronging his mind during the morning, and though the 
 path out of his degradation was obscure and uncertain, it 
 had seemed the only way of escape. He knew that Mrs. 
 Arnot would not consciously mock him with delusive 
 hopes, and as she spoke her words seemed to have the 
 ring and echo of truth. When the courage to attempt 
 better things was reviving, it was sad that he should re- 
 ceive the first disheartening blow from his mother. Not 
 that she purposed any such cruel stroke ; but when one 
 commences wrong in life one is apt to go on making mis- 
 chief to the end. Poor Mrs. Haldane's kindness and 
 severity had always been ill-timed. 
 
 For some hours, as will be seen, the contents of the 
 mother's \etter inspired only resentment and caused dis- 
 couragement ; but calmer thoughts explained the letter, 
 and confirmed Mrs. Arnot's words, that he had given 
 the "greatest provocation." 
 
 At the same time the young man instinctively felt that 
 if he attempted the knightly effort that Mrs. Arnot had so 
 earnestly urged, his mother could not help him much^ 
 and might be a hindrance. Her views would be so con-
 
 THE LOW STARTING-POINT. 247 
 
 ventional, and she would be so impatient of any methods 
 that were not in accordance with her ideas of respecta- 
 bihty, that she might imperil every thing should he yield 
 to her guidance. If, therefore, he could obtain the means 
 of subsistence he resolved to remain in Hillaton, where 
 he could occasionally see Mrs, Arnot. She had been 
 able to inspire the hope of a better life, and she could 
 best teach him how such a life was possible. 
 
 The next day circumstances prevented Mrs, Arnot 
 frorm visiting the prison, and Haldane employed part of 
 the time in writing to his mother ^ letter of mingled re- 
 proaches and apologies, interspersed with vague hopes 
 and promises of future amendment, ending, however, 
 with the posidve assurance that he would not leave 
 Hillaton unless compelled to do so by hunger. 
 
 To Mrs, Haldane this letter was only an aggravation 
 of former misconduct, and a proof of the unnatural and 
 impracticable character of her son. The fact that it was 
 written from a prison was hideous, to begin with. That,, 
 after all the pains at which she had been to teach him 
 what was right, he could suggest that she was in part to 
 blame for his course, seemed such black ingradtude that 
 his apologies and acknowledgments of wrong went for 
 nothing. She quite overlooked the hope, expressed here 
 and there, that he might lead a very different life in the 
 future. His large and self-confident assurances made be- 
 fore had come to naught, and she had not the tact to see 
 that he would make this attempt in a different spirit. 
 
 It was not by any means a knightly, or even a manly 
 letter that he wrote to his mother ; it was as confused as 
 his own chaotic moral nature ; but if Mrs. Haldane had 
 had a little more of Mrs, Arnot's intuition, and less of 
 prejudice, she might have seen scattered through it very 
 hopeful indications. But even were such indications 
 much more plain, her anger, caused by his refusal to 
 leave Hillaton, and the belief that he would continue to
 
 248 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 disgrace himself and her, would have blinded her to 
 them. Under the influence of this anger she sat down 
 and wrote at once : 
 
 Since you cast off your mother for strangers — since you at- 
 tempt again what you have proved yourself incapable of ac- 
 complishing — since you prefer to go out of jail to be a vagrant 
 and a criminal in the streets, instead of accepting my offer to 
 live a respectable and secluded life where your shame is un- 
 known, I wash my hands of you, and shall take pains to let it 
 be understood that I am no longer responsible for you or your 
 actions. You must look to strangers solely until you can conform 
 your course to the will of the one you have so greatly wronged. 
 
 Haldane received this letter on the morning of the day 
 which would again give him freedom. Mrs. Arnot had 
 visited him from time to time, and had been pleased to 
 find him, as a general thing, in a better and more promis- 
 ing mood. He had been eager to listen to all that she 
 had to say, and he seemed honestly bent on reform. And 
 yet, while hopeful, she was not at all sanguine as to his 
 future. He occasionally gave way to fits of deep de- 
 spondency, and again was over-confident, while the 
 causes of these changes were not very apparent, and 
 seemingly resulted more from temperament than any 
 thing else. She feared that the bad habits of long stand- 
 ing, combining with his capricious and impulsive nature, 
 would speedily betray him into his old ways. She was 
 sure this would be the case unless the strong and steady 
 hand of God sustained him, and she had tried to make 
 him realize the same truth. This he did in a measure, and 
 was exceedingly distrustful ; and yet he had not been able 
 to do much more than hope God would help him — for to 
 any thing hke trustful confidence he was still a stranger. 
 
 The future was very dark and uncertain. What he 
 was to do, how he was to live, he could not foresee. 
 Even the prison seemed almost a refuge from the world, 
 out into which he would be thrown that day, as one
 
 THE LOW STARTING-POINT. 249 
 
 mi^ht be cast from a ship, to sink or swim, as the case 
 might be. 
 
 While eager to receive counsel and advice from Mrs. 
 Arnot, he felt a peculiar reluctance to take any pecuniary- 
 assistance, and he fairly dreaded to have her offer it ; 
 still, it might be all that would stand between him and 
 hunger. 
 
 After receiving his mother's harsh reply to his letter, 
 his despondency was too great even for anger. He was 
 ashamed of his weakness and discouragement, and felt 
 that they were unmanly, and yet was powerless to resist 
 the leaden depression that weighed him down. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot had promised to call just before his release, 
 and when she entered his cell she at once saw that some- 
 thing was amiss. In reply to her questioning he gave 
 her the letter just received. 
 
 After reading it Mrs. Arnot did not speak for some 
 time, and her face wore a sad, pained look. 
 
 At last she said, " You both misunderstand each other ; 
 but, Egbert, you have no right to cherish resentment. 
 Your mother sincerely believes your course is all wrong, 
 and that it will end worse than before. I think she is 
 mistaken. And yet perhaps she is right, and it will be 
 easier for you to commence your better and reformed life 
 in the seclusion which she suggests. I am sorry to say 
 it to you, Egbert, but I have not been able to find any 
 employment for you such as you would take, or I would 
 be willing to have you accept. Perhaps Providence 
 points to submission to your mother's will." 
 
 " If so, then I lose what little faith I have in Provi- 
 dence," he replied impetuously. " It is here, in this 
 city, that I have fallen and disgraced myself, and it is 
 here I ought to redeem myself, if I ever do. Weeks 
 ago, in pride and self-confidence, I made the effort, and 
 failed miserably, as might have been expected. Instead 
 of being a gifted and brilliant man, as I supposed, that
 
 •250 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 had been suddenly brought under a cloud as much 
 through misfortune as fault, I have discovered myself to 
 be a weak, commonplace, illiterate fellow, strong only in 
 bad passions and bad habits. Can I escape these pas- 
 sions and habits by going elsewhere ? You have told 
 me, in a way that excited my hope, of God's power and 
 willingness to help such as I am. If He will not help me 
 here. He will not anywhere ; and if, with His aid, I cannot 
 surmount the obstacles in my way here, what is God's 
 promised help but a phrase which means nothing, and 
 what are we but victims of circumstances ? " 
 
 " Are you not reaching conclusions rather fast, Eg- 
 bert ? You forget that I and myriads of others have had 
 proof of God's power and willingness to help. If wide 
 and varied experiences can settle any fact, this one has 
 been settled. But we should ever remember that we are 
 not to dictate the terms on which He is to help us." 
 
 " I do not mean to do this," said Haldane eagerly, 
 "but I have a conviction that I ought to remain in 
 Hillaton. To tell you the truth, Mrs. Arnot, I am afraid 
 to go elsewhere," he added in a low tone, while tears 
 suffused his eyes. " You are the only friend in the uni- 
 verse that I am sure cares for me, or that I can trust 
 without misgivings. To me God is yet but little more 
 than a name, and one that heretofore I have either for- 
 gotten or feared. You have led me to hope that it might 
 be otherwise some day, but it is not so yet, and I dare 
 not go away alone where no one cares for me, for I feel 
 sure that I would give way to utter despondency, and 
 recklessness would follow as a matter of course." 
 
 " O Egbert," sighed Mrs. Arnot, " how weak you are, 
 and how foolish, in trusting so greatly in a mere fellow- 
 creature." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Arnot, 'weak and foolish.' Those two 
 •words now seem to sum up my whole life and all there is 
 of me."
 
 THE LOW STARTING-POINT. 251 
 
 " And yet," she added earnestly, " if you will, you can 
 still achieve a strong and noble character. O that you 
 had the courage and heroic faith in God to fight out this 
 battle to the end ! Should you do so, as I told you be- 
 fore, you would be my ideal knight. Heaven would ring 
 with your praise, however unfriendly the world might be. 
 I cannot conceive of a grander victory than that of a de- 
 based nature over itself. If you should win such a vic- 
 tory, Egbert — if, in addition, you were able, by the bless- 
 ing of God on your efforts, to build up a strong, true 
 character — I would honor you above other men, even 
 though you remained a wood-sawyer all your days," and 
 her dark eyes became lustrous with deep feeling as she 
 spoke. 
 
 Haldane looked at her fixedly for a moment, and grew 
 very pale. He then spoke slowly and in a low^ tone : 
 
 " To fail after what you have said and after all your 
 kindness would be terrible. To continue my old vile self, 
 and also remember the prospect you now hold out — what 
 could be worse ? And yet what I shall do, what I shall 
 be, God only knows. But in sending you to me I feel 
 that He has given me one more chance." 
 
 "Egbert," she replied eagerly, " God will give you 
 chances as long as you breathe. Only the devil will tell 
 you to despair. He, fiever. Remember this should yon 
 grow old in sin. To tell you the truth, however, as I see 
 you going out into the world so humbled, so self-distrust- 
 ful, I have far more hope for you than when you first left 
 this place, fully assured that you were, in yourself, suffi- 
 cient for all your peculiar difficulties. And now, once 
 more, good-by, for a time. I will do every thing I can 
 for you. I have seen Mr. Growther to-day, and he ap- 
 pears very willing that you should return to his house for 
 the present. Strange old man ! I want to know him 
 better, for I believe his evil is chiefly on the outside, and 
 will fall off some day, to his great surprise."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A SACRED REFRIGERATOR. 
 
 The glare of the streets was intolerable to Haldane 
 after his confinement, and he hastened through them, 
 looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. A 
 growl from Mr. Growther's dog greeted him as he en- 
 tered, and the old man himself snarled, 
 
 " Well, I s'pose you stood me as long as you could, 
 and then went to prison for a while for a change." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Mr. Growther ; I went to prison 
 because I deserved to go there, and it's very good oi you 
 to let me come back again." 
 
 " No, it ain't good of me, nuther. I want a little peace 
 and comfort, and how could I have 'em while you was 
 bein' kicked and cuffed around the streets ? Here, I'll 
 get you some dinner. I s'pose they only gave you 
 enough at jail to aggravate your in'ards." 
 
 "No, nothing more, please. Isn't there something I 
 can do? I've sat still long enough." 
 
 Mr. Growther looked at him a moment, and then said, 
 
 "Are you sayin' that because you mean it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Would you mind helpin' me make a little garden ? 
 I know I ought to have done it long ago, but I'm one of 
 those 'crastinating cusses, and rheumatic in the bargain." 
 
 " I'll make your garden on the one condition that you 
 stand by and boss the job." 
 
 " O, I'm good at bossin' , if nothing else. There ain't 
 much use of plantin' any thing, though, for every pesky 
 bug and worm in town will start for my patch as soon as 
 they hear on't." 
 
 252
 
 A SACRED EEFRIGERATOB. 253 
 
 " I suppose they come on the same principle that I do." 
 
 " They hain't so welcome — the cussed little varmints! 
 Some on 'em are so blasted mean that I know I ought to 
 be easier on 'em just out of feller feelin'. Them cut- 
 worms now — if they'd only take a plant and satisfy their 
 nateral appetites on it, it would go a good ways, and the 
 rest o' the plants would have a chance to grow out of 
 harm's way ; but the nasty little things will jest eat 'em 
 off above the ground, as if they was cut in two by a 
 knife, and then go on to anuther. That's what I call a 
 mean way of gettin' a livin' ; but there's lots of people 
 like 'em in town, who spile more than they eat. Then 
 there's the squash-bug. If it's his nater to eat up the vines 
 I s'pose he must do it, but why in thunder must he smell 
 bad enough to knock you over into the bargain ? It's 
 allers been my private opinion that the devil made these 
 pests, and the Lord had nothin' to do with 'em. The 
 idea that He should create a rose, and then a rose-bug to 
 spile it, ain't reconcilable to what little reason I've got." 
 
 " Well," rephed Haldane with a glimmer of a smile, 
 " I cannot account for rose-bugs and a good many worse 
 things. I notice, however, that in spite of all these ene- 
 mies people manage to raise a great deal that's very 
 nice every year. Suppose we try it." 
 
 They were soon at work, and Haldane felt the better 
 for a few hours' exercise in the open air. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Arnot brought some papers 
 which she said a legal friend wished copied, and she left 
 with them, inclosed in an envelope, payment in advance. 
 After she had gone Haldane offered the money to Mr. 
 Growther, but the old man only growled, 
 
 " Chuck it in a drawer, and the one of us who wants 
 it first can have it." 
 
 For the next two or three weeks Mrs. Arnot, by the 
 dint of considerable effort, kept up a supply of MSS., of 
 which copies were required, and she supplemented the
 
 254 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 prices which the parties concerned were willing to pay. 
 Her charitable and helpful habits were well known to her 
 friends, and they often enabled her thus to aid those to 
 whom she could not give money direct. But this uncer- 
 tain employment would soon fail, and what her protege 
 was then to do she could not foresee. No one would 
 trust him, and no one cared to have him about his 
 premises. 
 
 But in the meantime the young man was thinking 
 deeply for himself. He soon concluded not to make Mr. 
 Growther's hu-mble cottage a hiding-place ; and he com- 
 menced walking abroad through the city after the work 
 of the day. He assumed no bravado, but went quietly 
 on his way like any other passer-by. The majority of 
 those who knew who he was either ignored his existence, 
 or else looked curiously after him, but some took pains 
 to manifest their contempt. He could not have been 
 more lonely and isolated if he were walking a desert. 
 
 Among the promises he had made Mrs. Arnot was 
 that he would attend church, and she naturally asked 
 him to come to her own. 
 
 " As you feel toward my husband, it will probably not 
 be pleasant for you to come to our pew," she had said ; 
 " but I hope the time will come when by-gones will be 
 by-gones. The sexton, however, will give you a seat, 
 and our minister preaches excellent sermons." 
 
 Not long after, true to his word, the young man went 
 a little early, as he wished to be as unobtrusive as possi- 
 ble. At the same time there was nothing furtive or 
 ■cringing in his nature. As he had openly done wrong, 
 he was now resolved to try as openly to do right, and let 
 people ascribe whatever motive they chose. 
 
 But his heart misgave him as he approached the new 
 elegant church on the most fashionable street. He felt 
 that his clothes were not in keeping with either the place 
 of worship or the worshipers.
 
 A SACRED REFRIGERATOR. 255 
 
 Mr. Arnot's confidential clerk was talking with the 
 sexton as he hesitatingly mounted the granite steps, and 
 he saw that dignified functionary, who seemed in some 
 way made to order with the church over which he pre- 
 sided, eye him askance while he lent an ear to what 
 was evidently a bit of his history. Walking quietly but 
 firmly up to the of^cial, Haldane asked, 
 
 " Will you give me a seat, sir?" 
 
 The man reddened, frowned, and then said, 
 
 " Really, sir, our seats are generally taken Sunday 
 mornings. I think you will feel more at home at our 
 ■mission chapel in Guy street." 
 
 "And among the guys, why don't you add? " retorted 
 Haldane, his old spirit flashing up, and he turned on his 
 heel and stalked back to Mr. Growther's cottage. 
 
 " Short sermon to-day," said the old man starting out 
 of a doze. 
 
 Haldane told him of his reception. 
 
 The wrinkles in the quaint visage of his host grew deep 
 -and complicated, as though he had tasted something 
 very bitter, and he remarked sententiously, 
 
 " If Satan could he'd pay that sexton a whoppin' sum 
 to stand at the door and keep sinners out." 
 
 " No need of the devil paying him any thing ; the 
 well-dressed Christians see to that. As I promised Mrs. 
 Arnot to come, I tried to keep my word, but this flunky's 
 face and manner alone are enough to turn away such as 
 I am. None but the eminently respectable need apply 
 at that gate of heaven. If it were not for Mrs. Arnot I 
 would believe the whole thing a farce." 
 
 "Is Jesus Christ a farce?" asked the practical Mr. 
 Growther, testily. " What is the use of jumping five hun- 
 dred miles from the truth because you've happened to 
 run afoul of some of those Pharisees that He cussed ? " 
 
 Haldane laughed and said, "You have a matter-of- 
 fact way of putting things that there is no escaping. It
 
 256 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 will, probably, do me more good to stay home and read 
 the Bible to you than to be at church." 
 
 The confidential clerk, who had remained gossiping in 
 the vestibule, thought the scene he had witnessed worth 
 mentioning to his employer, who entered with Mrs. Arnot 
 not very long after, and lingered for a word or two. The 
 man of business smiled grimly, and passed on. He usu- 
 ally attended church once a day, partly from habit and 
 partly because it was the respectable thing to do. He 
 had been known to remark that he never lost any thing by 
 it, for some of his most successful moves suggested them- 
 selves to his mind during the monotony of the service. 
 
 To annoy his wife, and also to gratify a disposition to 
 sneer at the faults of Christians, Mr. Arnot, at the dinner, 
 commenced to commend ironically the sexton's course. 
 
 " A most judicious man ! " he affirmed. " Saint Peter 
 himself at the gate could not more accurately strain out 
 the saints from the sinners — nay, he is even keener-eyed 
 than Saint Peter, for he can tell first-class from second- 
 class saints. Though our church is not full, I now un- 
 derstand why we have a mission chapel. You may trust 
 •Jeems' to keep out all but the very first-class — those 
 who can exchange silk and broadcloth for the white robe. 
 But what on earth could have brought about such a speedy 
 transition from jail to church on the part of Haldane? " 
 
 "I invited him," said Mrs. Arnot, in a pained tone; 
 " but I did not think it would be to meet with insult." 
 
 " Insult! Quite the reverse. I should think that such 
 as he ought to feel it an honor to be permitted a place 
 among the second-class saints." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's thoughts were very busy that afternoon. 
 She was not by nature an innovator, and, indeed, w-as 
 inclined to accept the established order of things without 
 very close questioning. Her Christian life had been de- 
 veloped chiefly by circumstances purely personal, and 
 she had unconsciously found walks of usefulness apart
 
 A SACRED REFRIGERATOR. 257 
 
 from the organized church work. But she was a devout 
 worshiper and a careful hstener to the truth. It had been 
 her custom to ride to the morning service, and, as they 
 resided some distance from the church, to remain at 
 home in the evening, giving all in her employ a chance 
 to go out. 
 
 Concerning the financial affairs of the church she was 
 kept well informed, for she was a liberal contributor, and 
 also to all other good causes presented. From earliest 
 years her eye had always been accustomed to the phases 
 presented by a fashionable church, and every thing moved 
 forward so quietly and with such sacred decorum that the 
 thought of any thing wrong did not occur to her. 
 
 But the truth that one who was endeavoring to lead a 
 better Hfe had been practically turned from the door of 
 God's house seemed to her a monstrous thing. How 
 much truth was there in her husband's sarcasm ? How 
 far did her church represent the accessible Jesus of Naza- 
 reth, to whom all were welcomed, or how far did it mis- 
 represent Him ? Now that her attention was called to the 
 fact, she remembered that the congregation was chiefly 
 made up of the e'/ite of the city, and that she rarely had 
 seen any one present who did not clearly present the 
 fullest evidence of respectability. Were those whom the 
 Master most emphatically came to seek and save ex- 
 cluded? She determined to find out speedily. 
 
 Summoning her coachman, she told him that she 
 wished to attend church that evening. She dressed her- 
 self very plainly, and entered the church closely vailed. 
 Instead of going to her own pew, she asked the judicious 
 and discriminating sexton for a seat. After a careless 
 glance he pointed to one of the seats near the door, and 
 turned his back upon her. A richly dressed lady and 
 gentleman entered soon after, and he was all attention, 
 marshaling them up the aisle into Mrs. Arnot's own pew, 
 since it'was known she did not occupy it in the evening.
 
 258 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 A few decent, plain-looking women, evidently sent thither 
 by the wealthy families in whose employ they were, came 
 in hesitatingly, and those who did not take seats near the 
 entrance, as a matter of course, were motioned thither 
 without ceremony. The audience room was but sparsely 
 filled, large families being represented by one or two 
 members or not at all. But Mrs. Arnot saw none of 
 Haldane's class present — none who looked as if they 
 were in danger, and needed a kind, strong, rescuing 
 hand — none who looked hungry and athirst for truth be- 
 cause perishing for its lack. In that elegant and emi- 
 nently respectable place, upholstered and decorated with 
 faultless taste, there was not a hint of publicans and sin- 
 ners. One might suppose he was in the midst of the 
 millennium, and that the classes to whom Christ preached 
 had all become so thoroughly converted that they did not 
 even need to attend church. There was not a suggestion 
 of the fact that but a few blocks away enough to fill the 
 empty pews were living worse than heathen hves. 
 
 The choir performed their part melodiously, and a 
 master in music could have found no fault with the tech- 
 nical rendering of the musical score. They were paid io 
 sing, and they gave to such of their employers as cared 
 to be present every note as it was written, in its full 
 value. As never before, it struck Mrs. Arnot as a per- 
 formance. The service she had attended hitherto was 
 partly the creation of her own earnest and devotional 
 spirit. To-night she was learning to know the service as 
 it really existed. 
 
 The minister was evidently a conscientious man, for he 
 had prepared his evening discourse for his thin audience 
 as thoroughly as he had his morning sermon. Every 
 word was carefully written down, and the thought of the 
 text was exhaustively developed. But Mrs. Arnot was 
 too far back to hear well. The poor man seemed weary 
 and discouraged with the arid wastes of empty seats over
 
 A SACRED REFRIGERATOR. 259 
 
 which he must scatter the seeds of truth to no purpose. 
 He looked dim and ghostly in the far-away pulpit, and 
 in spite of herself his sermon began to have the aspect 
 of a paid performance, the effect of which would scarcely 
 be more appreciable than the sighing of the wind with- 
 out. The keenest theologian could not detect the devia- 
 tion of a hair from the received orthodox views, and the 
 majority present were evidently satisfied that his views 
 would be correct, for they did not give very close atten- 
 tion. The few plain domestics near her dozed and nod- 
 ded through the hour, and so gained some physical prep- 
 aration for the toils of the week, but their spiritual na- 
 tures were as clearly dormant as their lumpish bodies. 
 
 After the service Mrs. Arnot lingered, to see if any 
 one would speak to her as a stranger and ask her to come 
 again. Such was clearly not the habit of the congrega- 
 tion. She felt that her black veil, an evidence of sorrow, 
 was a sort of signal of distress which ought to have lured 
 some one to her side with a kind word or two, but be- 
 yond a few curious glances she was unnoticed. People 
 spoke who were acquainted, who had been introduced to 
 each other. As the worshipers (?) hastened out, glad to 
 escape to regions where Hving questions and interests ex- 
 isted, the sexton, who had been dozing in a comfortable 
 corner, bustled to the far end of the church, and com- 
 menced, with an assistant, turning out the lights on either 
 side so rapidly that it seemed as if a wave of darkness 
 was following those w^ho had come thither ostensibly seek- 
 ing light. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot hastened to her carriage, where it stood 
 under the obscuring shadow of a tree, and was driven 
 home sad and indignant — most indignant at herself that 
 she had been so absorbed in her own thoughts and life 
 that she had not discovered that the church to build and 
 sustain which she had given so liberally was scarcely 
 better than a costly refrigerator.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A DOUBTFUL BATTLE IN PROSPECT. 
 
 The painful impression made by the evening service 
 that has been described acted as a rude disenchantment, 
 and the beautiful church, to which Mrs. Arnot had re- 
 turned every Sabbath morning with increasing pleasure, 
 became as repulsive as it had been sacred and attractive. 
 To her sincere and earnest spirit any thing in the nature 
 of a sham was peculiarly offensive ; and what, she often 
 asked herself, could be more un-Christlike than this 
 service which had been held in His name ? 
 
 The revelation so astonished and disheartened her that 
 she was prone to beheve that there was something excep- 
 tional in that miserable Sabbath evening's experience, 
 and she determined to observe further and more closely 
 before taking any action. She spoke frankly of her feel- 
 ings and purposes to Haldane, and in so doing benefited 
 the young man very much ; for he was thus led to draw 
 a sharp line between Christ and the Christlike and that 
 phase of Christianity which is largely leavened wnth this 
 world. No excuse was given him to jumble the true and 
 the false together. 
 
 '• You will do me a favor if you will quietly enter the 
 church next Sunday morning and evening, and unob- 
 trusively take one of the seats near the door," she said 
 to him. " I wish to bring this matter to an issue as soon 
 as possible. If you could manage to enter a little in ad- 
 vance of me, I would also be glad. I know how Christ 
 received sinners, and I would hke to see how we who 
 profess to be representing Him receive those who come 
 to His house." 
 
 Haldane did as she requested. In a quiet and per- 
 260
 
 A DOUBTFUL BATTLE IN PitOSPECT. 261 
 
 fectly unobtrusive manner he walked up the granite steps 
 into the vestibule, and his coarse, grey suit, although 
 scrupulously clean, was conspicuous in its contrast with 
 the elegant attire of the other worshipers. He himself 
 was conspicuous also ; for many knew who he was, 
 and whispered the information to others. A "jail-bird " 
 was, indeed, a ram avis in that congregation, and there 
 was a slight, but perfectly decorous, sensation. How- 
 ever greatly these elegant people might lack the spirit of 
 Him who was " the friend of publicans and sinners," 
 they would not for the world do any thing that was overtly 
 rude or ill-bred. Only the official sextoft frowned visibly 
 as the youth took a seat near the door. Others looked 
 askance or glided past like polished icicles. Haldane's 
 teeth almost chattered with the cold. He felt himself 
 oppressed, and almost pushed out of the house, by the 
 moral atmosphere created by the repellent thoughts of 
 some who apparently felt the place defiled by his pres- 
 ence. Mrs. Arnot, with her keen intuition, felt this at- 
 mosphere also, and detected on the part of one or two 
 of the officers of the Church an unchristian spirit. Al- 
 though the sermon was an excellent one that morning, 
 she did not hear it. 
 
 In the evening a lady draped in a black vail sat by 
 Haldane. The service was but a dreary counterpart of 
 the one of the previous Sabbath. The sky had been 
 overcast and slightly threatening, and still fewer wor- 
 shipers had ventured out. 
 
 Beyond furtive and curious glances no one noticed 
 them save the sexton, who looked and acted as if Hal- 
 dane's continued coming was a nuisance, which, in some 
 way, he must manage to abate. 
 
 The young man waited for Mrs. Arnot at her carriage- 
 door, and said as he handed her in : 
 
 " I have kept my word ; but please do not ask me to 
 come to this church again, or I shall turn infidel."
 
 262 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " I shall not come myself again," she replied, '* unless 
 there is a decided change." 
 
 The next morning she wrote notes to two of the leading 
 officers of the church, asking them to call that evening ; 
 and her request was so urgent that they both came at the 
 appointed hour, 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's quiet but clear and distinct statement of 
 the evils of which she had become conscious greatly sur- 
 prised and annoyed them. They, with their associates, 
 had been given credit for organizing and " running " the 
 most fashionable and prosperous church in town. An 
 elegant structure had been built and paid for, and such a 
 character given the congregation that if strangers visited 
 or were about to take up their abode in the city they were 
 made to feel that the door of this church led to social po- 
 sition and the most aristocratic circles. Of course, mis- 
 takes were made. People sometimes elbowed their way 
 in who were evidently flaunting weeds among the 
 patrician flowers, and occasionally plain, honest, but 
 somewhat obtuse souls would come as to a Christian 
 church. But people who were "not desirable" — the 
 meaning of this phrase had become well understood in 
 Hillaton — were generally frozen out by an atmosphere 
 made so chilly, even in August, that they were glad to 
 escape to other associations less benumbing. Indeed, it 
 was now so generally recognized that only those of the 
 best and most assured social position were " desirable," 
 that few others ventured up the granite steps or sought 
 admittance to this region of sacred respectability. And 
 yet all this had been brought about so gradually, and so 
 entirely within the laws of good breeding and ecclesias- 
 tical usage, and also under the most orthodox preaching, 
 that no one could lay his finger on any thing upon which 
 to raise an issue. 
 
 The result was just what these officers had been work- 
 ing for, and it was vexatious indeed that, after years of
 
 A DOUBTFUL BATTLE IN PROSPECT. 263 
 
 successful manipulation, a lady of Mrs. Arnot's position 
 should threaten to make trouble. , 
 
 *' My dear Mrs. Arnot," said one of these polished 
 gentlemen, with a suavity that was designed to conciliate, 
 but which was nevertheless tinged with philosophical 
 dogmatism, " there are certain things that will not mix, 
 and the attempt to mingle them is wasting time on the 
 impossible. It is in accordance with the laws of nature 
 that each class should draw together according to their 
 affinities and social status. Our church is now entirely 
 homogeneous, and every thing moves forward without 
 any friction." 
 
 "It appears to me sadly machine-like," the lady re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Indeed, madam," with a trace of offended dignity, 
 " is not the Gospel ably preached ? " 
 
 "Yes, but it is not obeyed. We have been made 
 homogeneous solely on worldly principles, and not on 
 those taught in the Gospels." 
 
 They could not agree, as might have been supposed, 
 and- Mrs. Arnot was thought to be unreasonable and full 
 of impracticable theories. 
 
 "Very well, gentlemen," said Mrs. Arnot, with some 
 warmth, " if there can be no change in these respects, 
 no other course is left for me but to withdraw;" and 
 the religious politicians bowed themselves out, much re- 
 lieved, feeling that this was the easiest solution of the 
 question. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot soon after wrote to the Rev. Dr. Barstow, 
 pastor of the church, for a letter of dismission. The 
 good man was much surprised by the contents of this 
 missive. Indeed, it so completely broke a chain of deep 
 theological speculation, that lie deserted his study for 
 the street. Here he met an officer of the church, a man 
 somewhat advanced in years, whom he had come to re- 
 gard as rather reserved and taciturn in disposition. But
 
 264 KNIQHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 in his perplexity he exhibited Mrs. Arnot's letter, and 
 asked an explanation. 
 
 "Well," said the gentleman, uneasily, " I understand 
 that Mrs. Arnot is dissatisfied, and perhaps she has some 
 reason to be." 
 
 " Upon what grounds ? " asked the clergyman hastily. 
 
 "Suppose we call upon her," was the reply. "I 
 would rather you should hear her reasons from herself; 
 and, in fact, I would be glad to hear them also." 
 
 Half an hour later they sat in Mrs. Arnot's parlor. 
 
 "My dear madam," said Dr. Barstow, "are you 
 willing to tell us frankly what has led to the request con- 
 tained in this letter. I hope that I am in no way to 
 blame." 
 
 " Perhaps we have all been somewhat to blame," re- 
 plied Mrs. Arnot in a tone so gentle and quiet as to prove 
 that she was under the influence of no unkindly feeling 
 or resentment ; " at least I feel that I have been much to 
 blame for not seeing what is now but too plain. But 
 habit and custom deaden our perceptions. The aspect 
 of our church was that of good society, — nothing to jar 
 upon or offend the most critical taste. Your sermons 
 were deeply thoughtful and profound, and I both enjoyed 
 and was benefited by them. I came and went wrapped 
 up in my own spiritual life and absorbed in my own plans 
 and work, when, unexpectedly, an incident occurred which 
 -evealed to me what I fear is the animus and character of 
 Dur church organization. I can best tell you what I mean 
 by relating my experience and that of a young man whom 
 I have every reason to believe wishes to lead a better hfe, 
 yes, even a Christian life;" and she graphically por- 
 trayed all that had occurred, and the impressions made 
 upon her by the atmosphere she had found prevalent, 
 when she placed herself in the attitude of a humble 
 stranger. 
 
 "And now," she said in conclusion, " do we represent
 
 A DOUBTFUL BATTLE IN PROSPECT. 265 
 
 Christ, or are we so leavened by the world that it may 
 be doubted whether He would acknowledge us ? " 
 
 The minister shaded his pained and troubled face with 
 his hand. 
 
 " We represent the world," said the church officer em- 
 phatically ; "I have had a miserable consciousness of 
 whither we were drifting for a long time, but every thing 
 has come about so gradually and so properly, as it were, 
 that I could find no one thing upon which I could lay my 
 finger and say. This is wrong and I protest against it. 
 Of course, if I had heard the sexton make such a remark 
 to any one seeking to enter the house of God as was made 
 to the young man you mention I should have interfered. 
 And yet the question is one of great difficulty. Can such 
 diverse classes meet on common ground? " 
 
 " My dear sir," said Mrs. Arnot earnestly, " I do not 
 think we, as a church, are called upon to adjust these 
 diverse classes, and to settle, on the Sabbath, nice social 
 distinctions. The Head of the Church said, ' Whosoever 
 will, let him come.' We, pretending to act in His name 
 and by His authority, say, ' Whosoever is sufficiently re- 
 spectable and well-dressed, let him come.' I feel that I 
 cannot any longer be a party to this perversion. 
 
 "If we would preserve our right to be known as a 
 Christian church we must say to all, to the poor, to the 
 most sinful and debased, as well as to those who are now 
 welcomed, ' Come ; ' and when they are within our walls 
 they should be made to feel that the house does not be- 
 long to an aristocratic clique, but rather to Him who was 
 the friend of publicans and sinners. Christ adjusted 
 Himself to the diverse classes. Are we His superiors?" 
 
 " But, my dear madame, are there to be no social dis- 
 tinctions? " 
 
 " I am not speaking of social distinctions. Birth, cul- 
 ture, and wealth will always, and very properly, too, make 
 great differences. In inviting people to our homes we
 
 266 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 may largely consult our own tastes and preferences, and 
 neither good sense nor Christian duty requires that there 
 should be intimacy between those unfitted for it by edu- 
 cation and character. But a church is not our house, 
 but God's house, and what right have we to stand in the 
 door and turn away those whom He most cordially in- 
 vites ? Christ had His beloved disciple, and so we can 
 have our beloved and congenial friends. But there were 
 none too low or lowly for Him to help by direct personal 
 effort, by sympathetic contact, and I, for one, dare not 
 ignore His example." 
 
 " Do you not think we can better accomplish this work 
 by our mission chapel ? " 
 
 "Where is your precedent? Christ washed the feet 
 of fishermen in order to give us an example of humil- 
 ity, and to teach us that we should be willing to serve 
 any one in His name. I heartily approve of mission 
 chapels as outposts ; but, as in earthly warfare, they 
 should be posts of honor, posts for the brave, the saga- 
 cious, and the most worthy. If they are maintained in 
 the character of second-class cars, they are to that ex- 
 tent unchristian. If those who are gathered there are to 
 be kept there solely on account of their dress and hum- 
 ble circumstances, I would much prefer taking my 
 chances of meeting my Master with them than in the 
 church which practically excludes them. 
 
 " Christ said, ' I was a stranger, and ye took Me in.' 
 I came to our church as a stranger twice. I was per- 
 mitted to walk in and walk out, but no one spoke to me, 
 no one invited me to come again. It seems to me that 
 I would starve rather than enter a private house where I 
 was so coldly treated. I have no desire for startling in- 
 novations. I simply wish to unite myself with a church 
 that is trying to imitate the example of the Master, and 
 where all, whatever may be their garb or social and moral 
 character, are cordially invited and sincerely welcomed."
 
 A DOUBTFUL BATTLE IN PROSPECT. 267 
 
 Dr. Barstow now removed his hand from his face. It 
 -was pale, but its expression was resolute and noble. 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot, permit me to say that you are both right 
 and wrong," he said. " Your views of what a church 
 should be are right ; you are wrong in wishing to with- 
 draw before having patiently and prayerfully sought to 
 inculcate a true Christian spirit among those to whom 
 you owe and have promised Christian fidelity. You 
 know that I have not very long been the pastor of this 
 church, but I have already felt that something was amiss. 
 I have been oppressed and benumbed with a certain 
 coldness and formality in our church life. At the same 
 time I admit, with contrition, that I have given way to 
 my besetting sin. I am naturally a student, and when 
 once in my study I forget the outside world. I am prone 
 to become wholly occupied with the thought of my text, 
 and to forget those for whom I am preparing my dis- 
 course. I, too, often think more of the sermon than of 
 the people, forgetting the end in the means, and thus I 
 fear I was becoming but a voice, a religious philosophy, 
 among them, instead of a living and a personal power. 
 You have been awakened to the truth, Mrs. Arnot, and 
 you have awakened me. I do not feel equal to the task 
 which I clearly foresee before me ; I may fail miserably, 
 but I shall no longer darken counsel with many words. 
 You have given me much food for thought ; and while I 
 cannot foretell the end, I think present duty will be made 
 clear. In times of perplexity it is our part to do what 
 seems right, asking God for guidance, and then leave the 
 consequences to Him. One thing seems plain to me, 
 however, that it. is your present duty to remain with us, 
 and give your prayers and the whole weight of your in- 
 fluence on the side of reform." 
 
 " Dr. Barstow," said Mrs, Arnot, her face flushing 
 slightly, "you are right; you are right. I have been 
 hasty, and, while condemning others, was acting wrong
 
 268 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 myself. You have shown the truer Christian spirit. I 
 will remain while there is any hope of a change for the 
 better." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Arnot," said Mr. Blakeman, the elderly 
 church officer, " I have drawn you out partly to get your 
 views and partly to get some clearer views myself. I, 
 too, am with you, doctor, in this struggle ; but I warn 
 you both that we shall have a hot time before we thaw 
 the ice out of our church." 
 
 "First pure, and then peaceable," said the minister 
 slowly and musingly ; and then they separated, each 
 feeling somewhat as soldiers who are about to engage in 
 a severe and doubtful battle.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A FOOT-HOLD. 
 
 The skies did not brighten for Haldane, and he re- 
 mained perplexed and despondent. When one wishes 
 to reform, every thing does not become lovely in this un- 
 friendly world. The first steps are usually the most dif- 
 ficult, and the earhest experience the most disheartening. 
 God never designed that reform should be easy. As it 
 is, people are too ready to live the life which renders re- 
 form necessary. The ranks of the victims of evil would 
 be doubled did not a wholesome fear of the consequences 
 restrain. 
 
 Within a few short weeks the fortunes of the wealthy 
 and self-confident youth had altered so greatly that now 
 he questioned whether the world would give him bread, 
 except on conditions that were painfully repugnant. 
 
 There was his mother's offer, it is true ; but had Mrs. 
 Haldane considered the nature of this offer, even she 
 could scarcely have made it. Suppose he tried to follow 
 out his mother's plan, and w^ent to a city where he was 
 unknown, could she expect an active young fellow to go 
 to an obscure boarding-house, and merely eat and sleep? 
 By an inevitable law the springing forces of his nature 
 must find employment either in good or evil. If he 
 sought employment of any kind the question would at 
 once arise, " Who are you?" and sooner or later would 
 come his history. In his long, troubled reveries he 
 thought of all this, and the prospect of vegetating in dull 
 obscurity at his mother's expense was as pleasant as that 
 of being buried alive. 
 
 Moreover, he could not endure to leave Hillaton in ut- 
 
 269
 
 270 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ter defeat. He was prostrate, and felt the foot of adverse 
 fate upon his neck, but he would not acknowledge him- 
 self conquered. If he could regain his feet he would re- 
 new the struggle ; and he hoped in some way to do so. 
 As yet, however, the future was a wall of darkness. 
 
 Neither did he find any rest for his spiritual feet. For 
 some reason he could not grasp ^the idea of a personal 
 God who cared enough for him to give any practical 
 help. In spite of all that Mrs. Arnot could say, his heart 
 remained as cold and heavy as a stone within his breast. 
 
 But to some extent he could appreciate the picture she 
 had presented. He saw one who, through weakness 
 and folly, had fallen into the depths of degradation, pa- 
 tiently and bravely fighting his way up to a true man- 
 hood ; and he had been made to feel that it was such a 
 noble thing to do that he longed to accomplish it. 
 Whether he could or no he was not sure, for his old con- 
 fidence was all gone. But he daily grew more bent on 
 making an honest trial, and in this effort a certain native 
 persistency and unwillingness to yield would be of much 
 help to him. 
 
 He was now willing, also, to receive any aid which 
 self-respect permitted him to accept, and was grateful for 
 the copying obtained for him by Mrs. Arnot. But she 
 frankly told him that it would not last long. The ques- 
 tion what he should do next pressed heavily upon him. 
 
 As he was reading the paper to Mr. Growther one 
 evening, his eye caught an advertisement which stated 
 that more hands were needed at a certain factory in the 
 suburbs. He felt sure that if he presented himself in the 
 morning with the others he would be refused, and he 
 formed the bold purpose of going at once to the manu- 
 facturer. Having found the stately residence, he said to 
 the servant who answered his summons, 
 
 "Will you say to Mr. Ivison that a person wishes to 
 see him ? ' '
 
 A FOOT-HOLD. 271 
 
 The maid eyed him critically, and concluded, from his 
 garb, to leave him standing in the hall. 
 
 Mr. Ivison left his guests in the parlor and came out, 
 annoyed at the interruption. 
 
 "Well, what do you wish, sir? " he said, in a tone that 
 was far from being encouraging, at the same time gain- 
 ing an unfavorable impression from Haldane's dress. 
 
 " In the evening paper you advertised for more hands 
 in your factory. I wish employment." 
 
 " Are you drunk, or crazy, that you thus apply at my 
 residence? " was the harsh reply. 
 
 " Neither, sir ; I — " 
 
 "You are very presuming, then." 
 
 " You would not employ me if I came in the morning." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Who are you ? " 
 
 " I am at least human. Can you give one or two mo- 
 ments to the consideration of my case ? ' ' 
 
 " One might afford that much," said the gentleman 
 with a half-apologetic laugh ; for the pale face and pecul- 
 iar bearing of the stranger were beginning to interest 
 him. 
 
 " I do not ask more of your time, and will come di- 
 rectly to the point. My name is Haldane, and, as far as 
 I am concerned, you know nothing good concerning me. ' ' 
 
 " You are correct," said Mr. Ivison coldly. " I shall 
 not need your services." 
 
 " Mr. Ivison," said Haldane in a tone that made the 
 gentleman pause, " ought I to be a thief and a vaga- 
 bond ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Then why do you, and all who, like you, have honest 
 work to give, leave me no other alternative ? I have 
 acted wrongly and foolishly, but I wish to do better. I 
 do not ask a place of trust, only work with others, under 
 the eyes of others, where I could not rob you of a cent's 
 worth if I wished. In the hurry and routine of your of-
 
 272 KNIGUT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 fice you would not listen to me, so I come to-night and 
 make this appeal. If you refuse it, and I go to the devil, 
 you will have a hand in the result." 
 
 The prompt business-man, whose mind had learned to 
 work with the rapidity of his machinery, looked at the 
 troubled, half-desperate face a moment, and then said 
 emphatically, 
 
 " By Jove, you are right ! I'll give you work. Come 
 to-morrow. Good night, and good luck to your good in- 
 tentions. But remember, no nonsense." 
 
 Here at last was a chance ; here at last was regular 
 employment. It was one step forward. Would he be 
 able to hold it ? This seemed doubtful on the morrow 
 after he had realized the nature of his surroundings. He 
 was set to work in a large room full of men, boys, and 
 slatternly-dressed girls. He was both scolded and 
 laughed at for the inevitable awkwardness of a new be- 
 ginner, and soon his name and history began to be whis- 
 pered about. During the noon recess a rude fellow flung 
 the epithet of "jail-bird " at him, and, of course, it stuck 
 like a burr. Never in all his life had he made such an 
 effort at self-control as that which kept his hands off this 
 burly tormentor. 
 
 He both puzzled and annoyed his companions. They 
 knew that he did not belong to their class, and his bear- 
 ing and manner made them unpleasantly conscious of 
 his superiority ; and yet all believed themselves so much 
 more respectable than he, that they felt it was a wrong to 
 them that he should be there at all. Thus he was pre- 
 destined to dislike and ill-treatment. But that he could 
 act as if he were deaf and bhnd to all that they could do 
 or say was more than they could understand. With knit 
 brows and firmly-closed lips he bent his whole mind to 
 the mastery of the mechanical duties required of him, and 
 when they were over he strode straight to his humble 
 lodging-place.
 
 A FOOT-HOLD. 273 
 
 Mr. Growther watched him curiously as he reacted 
 into lassitude and despondency after the strain and ten- 
 sion of the day. 
 
 " It's harder to stand than 'tis to git along with me, 
 isn't it .'' " 
 
 " Yes, much harder." 
 
 *' O thunder! better give it up, then, and try some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " No. it's my only chance." 
 
 " There's plenty other things to do." 
 
 " Not for me. These vulgar wretches I am working 
 with think it an outrage that a 'jail-bird,' as they call 
 me, contaminates the foul air that they breathe. I may 
 be driven out by them ; but," setting his teeth, "I won't 
 give up this foot-hold of my own accord." 
 
 " You might have been President if you had shown 
 such grit before you got down." 
 
 " That's not pleasant to think of now." 
 
 " I might *a known that ; but it's my mean way of 
 comfortin' people. A-a-h." 
 
 Haldane's new venture out into the world could 
 scarcely have had a more painful and prosaic beginning ; 
 but, as he said, he had gained a "foot-hold." 
 
 There was one other encouraging fact, of which he did 
 not know. Mr. Ivison sent for the foreman of the room 
 in which Haldane had been set at work, and said, 
 
 "Give the young fellow a fair chance, and report to 
 me from time to time how he behaves ; but say nothing 
 of this to him. If he gets at his old tricks, discharge 
 him at once ; but if he shows the right spirit, I wish to 
 know it."
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "THAT SERMON WAS A BOMB-SHELL." 
 
 The following Sabbath morning smiled so brightly that 
 one might .be tempted to believe that there was no sin 
 and misery in the world, and that such a church as Mrs. 
 Arnot condemned was an eminently proper organization. 
 As the congregation left their elegant homes, and in ele- 
 gant toilets wended their way to their elegant church, 
 they saw nothing in the blue sky and sunshine to remind 
 them of the heavy shadows brooding over the earth. 
 What more was needed than that they should give an 
 hour to their esthetic worship, as they had done in the 
 past when the weather permitted, and then return to din- 
 ner and a nap and all the ordinary routine of life ? There 
 were no "beasts at Ephesus " to fight now. The times 
 had changed, and to live in this age like an ancient Chris- 
 tian would be like going to Boston on foot when one 
 might take a palace car. Hundreds of fully grown, per- 
 fectly sane people filed into the church, who com- 
 placently felt that in attending service once or twice a 
 week, if so inclined, they were very good Christians. 
 And yet, strange to say, there was a conspicuous cross 
 on the spire, and they had named their church "St. 
 Paul's." 
 
 St. Paul ! Had they read his life ? If so, how came 
 they to satirize themselves so severely ? A dwarf is the 
 more to be pitied if named after a giant. 
 
 It was very queer that this church should name itself 
 after the tent-maker, who became all things to all men, 
 and who said, " I made myself servant unto all that I 
 might gain the more." 
 
 It was very unfortunate for them to have chosen this 
 274
 
 ''THAT SERMON WAS A BOMB-SHELL:' 275 
 
 saint, and yet the name, Saint Paul, had a very aristo- 
 cratic sound in Hillaton, and thus far had seemed pecul- 
 .iarly fitted to the costly edifice on which it was carved. 
 
 And never had the church seemed more stately than 
 on this brilhant Sabbath morning, never had its elegance 
 and that of the worshipers seemed more in harmony. 
 
 But the stony repose and calm of their Gothic temple 
 was not reflected in the faces of the people. There was 
 a general air of perturbation and expectancy. The pe- 
 culiar and complacent expression of those who are con- 
 scious of being especially well dressed and respectable 
 was conspicuously absent. Annoyed, vexed, anxious 
 faces passed into the vestibule. Knots of twos, threes, 
 and half-dozens lingered and talked eagerly, with em- 
 phatic gestures and much shaking of heads. Many who 
 disliked rough weather from any cause avoided their fel- 
 low-members, and ghded hastily in, looking worried and 
 uncomfortable. Between the managing officers, who 
 had fehcitated themselves on having secured a congrega- 
 tion containing the crime de la crhne of the city, on one 
 hand, and the disquieted Mr. Blakeman, who found the 
 church growing uncomfortably cold, on the other, Mrs. 
 Arnot's words and acts and the minister's implied pledge 
 to bring the matter squarely to an issue, had become 
 generally known, and a foreboding as of some great 
 catastrophe oppressed the people. If the truth were 
 known, there w^ere very general misgivings; and, now 
 that the people had been led to think, there were some 
 uncomfortable aspects to the question. Even that august 
 dignitary the sexton was in a painful dilemma as to 
 whether it would be best to assume an air of offended 
 dignity, or veer with these eddying and varying currents 
 until sure from what quarter the wind would finally blow. 
 He had learned that it was Mrs. Arnot whom he had 
 twice carelessly motioned with his thumb into a back 
 seat, and he could not help remarking to several of the
 
 276 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTUR . 
 
 more conservative members, that " it wai very unjust and 
 also unkind in Mrs. Arnot to palm herself off on him as 
 an ordinary pusson, when for a long time it had been the 
 plainly understood policy of the church not to encourage 
 ordinary pussons." 
 
 But the rumor that something unusual was about to 
 take place at St. Paul's brought thither on this particular 
 Sabbath all kinds and descriptions of people ; and the 
 dignified functionary whose duty it was to seat them 
 grew so hot and flustered with his unwonted tasks, and 
 made such strange blunders that both he and others felt 
 that they were on the verge of chaos. But the most ex- 
 traordinary appearing personage was no other than Mr. 
 Jeremiah Growther ; and, as with his gnarled cane he 
 hobbled along at Haldane's side, he looked for all the 
 world as if some grotesque and antique carving had come 
 to life and was out for an airing. Not only the sexton, 
 but many others, looked askance at the tall, broad- 
 shouldered youth of such evil fame, and his weird-ap- 
 pearing companion, as they walked quite far up the aisle 
 before they could find a seat. 
 
 Many rubbed their eyes to be sure it was not a dream. 
 What had come over the decorous and elegant St. 
 Paul's? When before had its dim, religious light re- 
 vealed such scenes? Whence this irruption of strange, 
 uncouth creatures, — a jail-bird in a laborer's garb, and 
 the profane old hermit, whom the boys had nicknamed 
 "Jerry Growler," and who had not been seen in church 
 for years. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot, followed by many eyes, passed quietly up 
 to her pew, and bowed her head in prayer. 
 
 Prayer ! Ah ! in their perturbation some had forgotten 
 that this was the place of prayer, and hastily bowed their 
 heads also. 
 
 Mr. Arnot had been engaged in his business to the 
 very steps, and much too absorbed during the week to
 
 ''THAT SER3fON WAS A BOMB-SHELL.'' 217 
 
 hear or heed any rumors ; but as he walked up the aisle 
 he stared around in evident surprise, and gave several 
 furtive glances over his shoulder after being seated. As 
 his wife raised her head, he leaned toward her and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 "What's the matter with Jeems ? for, if I mistake not, 
 there are a good many second-class saints here to-day." 
 But not a muscle changed in Mrs. Arnot's pale face. 
 Indeed, she scarcely heard him. Her soul was and had 
 been for several days in the upper sanctuary, in the pres- 
 ence of God, pleading with Him that He would return to 
 this earthly temple which the spirit of the world had 
 seemingly usurped. 
 
 When Dr. Barstow arose to commence the service, a 
 profound hush fell upon the people. Even his face and 
 bearing impressed and awed them, and it was evident 
 that he, too, had climbed some spiritual mountain, and 
 had been face to face with God. 
 
 As he proceeded with the service in tones that were 
 deep and magnetic, the sense of unwonted solemnity in- 
 creased. Hymns had been selected which the choir could 
 not perform, but must sing ; and the relation between the 
 sacred words and the music was apparent. The Scripture 
 lessons were read as if they were a message for that par- 
 ticular congregation and for that special occasion, and, as 
 the simple and authoritative words fell on the ear the gen- 
 eral misgiving was increased. They seemed wholly on 
 Mrs. Arnot's side ; or, rather, she was on theirs. 
 
 When, at last. Dr. Barstow rose, not as a sacred orator 
 and theologian who is about to deliver a sermon, but 
 rather as an earnest man, who had something of vital 
 moment to say, the silence became almost oppressive. 
 
 Instead of commencing by formally announcing his text, 
 as was his custom, he looked silently and steadily at his 
 people for a moment, thus heightening their expectancy. 
 
 " My friends," he began slowly and quietly, and there
 
 278 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 was a suggestion of sorrow in his tone rather than of 
 menace or denunciation ; "my friends, I wish to ask 
 your calm and unprejudiced attention to what I shall say 
 this morning. I ask you to interpret my words in the 
 light of the word of God and your own consciences ; and 
 if I am wrong in any respect I will readily acknowledge 
 it. Upon a certain occasion Christ said to His disciples, 
 • Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of ; ' and He 
 at once proved how widely His spirit differed from theirs. 
 They accepted the lesson, — they still followed Him, and 
 through close companionship eventually acquired His 
 merciful, catholic spirit. But at this time they did not 
 understand Him nor themselves. Perhaps we can best 
 understand the spirit we are of by considering His, and 
 by learning to know Him better whom we worship, by 
 whose name we are called, 
 
 " During the past week I have been brought face to 
 face with the Christ of the Bible, rather than the Christ 
 of theology and philosophy, who has hitherto dwelt in my 
 study ; and I have learned with sorrow and shame that 
 my spirit differed widely from His. The Christ that came 
 from heaven thought of the people, and had compassion 
 on the multitude. I was engrossed with my sermons, my 
 systems of truth, and nice interpretations of passages that 
 I may have rendered more obscure. But I have made a 
 vow in His name and strength that henceforth I will no 
 longer come into this pulpit, or go into any other, to 
 deliver sermons of my own. I shall no longer philoso- 
 phize about Christ, but endeavor to lead you directly to 
 Christ ; and thus you will learn by comparison what 
 manner of spirit you are of, and, I trust, become imbued 
 with His Spirit. I shall speak the truth in love, and yet 
 without fear, and with no wordy disguise. Henceforth I 
 do not belong to you but to my Master, and I shall pre- 
 sent the Christ who loved all, who died for all, and who 
 said to all, ' Whosoever will, let him come ! '
 
 ''THAT SERMON WAS A BOBIB-SHELL:' 279 
 
 •• You will find my text in the Gospel of St. John, the 
 nineteenth chapter and fifth verse : 
 
 " ' Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns 
 and the purple robe. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold 
 the Man ! ' 
 
 " Let us behold Him to-day, and learn to know Him 
 and to know ourselves better. If we discover any sad 
 and fatal mistake in our religious life, let us correct it 
 before it is too late." 
 
 It would be impossible to portray the effect of the 
 sermon that followed, coming, as it did, from a strong 
 soul stirred to its depths by the truth under consideration. 
 The people for the time being were swayed by it and 
 carried away. What was said was seen to be truth, felt 
 to be truth ; and as the divine Man stood out before them 
 luminous in His own loving and compassionate deeds, 
 which manifested His character and the principles of the 
 faith he founded, the old, exclusive, self-pleasing life of 
 the church shriveled up as a farce and a sham. 
 
 "In conclusion," said Dr. Barstow, "what was the 
 spirit of this Man when He summoned publicans and 
 fishermen to be His followers ? what was His spirit when 
 He laid His hand on the leper? what, when He said to the 
 outcast, ' Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more ? ' 
 what, when to the haughty Pharisees, the most respectable 
 people of that day, he threatened, 'Woe unto you,' 
 
 " He looked after the rich and almost perfect young 
 man, by whom He was nevertheless rejected, and loved 
 him; He also said to the penitent thief, 'To-day thou 
 shalt be with me in Paradise.' His heart was as large as 
 humanity. Such was His spirit." 
 
 After a moment's pause, in which there was a hush of 
 breathless expectancy, Dr. Barstow's deep tones were 
 again heard. " God grant that henceforth yonder doors 
 may be open to all whom Christ received, and with the 
 same welcome that He gave. If this cannot be, the name
 
 280 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of St. Paul, the man wlio 'made himself the servant unto 
 all that he might gain the more,' can no longer remain 
 upon this church save in mockery. If this cannot be, 
 whoever may come to this temple, Christ will not come to 
 enter it, nor dwell within it." 
 
 The people looked at each other, and drew a long 
 breath. Even those who were most in love with the old 
 system forgot Dr. Barstow, and felt for the moment that 
 they had a controversy with his Master. 
 
 The congregation broke up in a quiet and subdued 
 manner. All were too deeply impressed by what they 
 had heard to be in a mood for talking as yet ; and of the 
 majority, it should be said in justice that, conscious of 
 wrong, they were honestly desirous of a change for the 
 better. 
 
 During the sermon Mr. Growther's quaint and wrinkled 
 visage had worked most curiously, and there were times 
 when he with difficulty refrained from a hearty though 
 rather profane indorsement. 
 
 On his way home he said to Haldane, " I've lived like 
 a heathen on Lord's day and all days ; but, by the holy 
 poker, I'll hear that parson hereafter every Sunday, rain 
 or shine, if I have to fight my way into the church with a 
 club." 
 
 A peculiar fire burned in the young man's eyes, and his 
 lips were very firm, but he made no reply. The Man 
 whose portraiture he had beheld that day was a revela- 
 tion, and he hoped that this divine yet human Friend 
 might make a man of him. 
 
 "Well," remarked Mr. Arnot, sententiously, "that 
 sermon was a perfect bomb-shell ; and, mark my words, 
 it will either blow the doctor out of his pulpit, or some 
 of the first-class saints out of their pews." 
 
 But a serene and hopeful light shone from Mrs. Arnot's 
 eyes, and she only said, in a low tone, 
 
 " 'The Lord is in His holy temple.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 MR. GROWTHER FEEDS AN ANCIENT GRUDGE. 
 
 The problem in regard to the future of St. Paul's 
 Church, which had so greatly burdened Dr. Barstovv^ 
 was substantially solved. Christ had obtained control 
 of the preacher's heart, and henceforth would not be a 
 dogma, but a living presence, in his sermons. The 
 Pharisees of old could not keep the multitudes from 
 Him, though their motives for following Him were often* 
 very mixed. Although the philosophical Christ of 
 theology, whom Dr. Barstow had ably preached, could 
 not change the atmosphere of St. Paul's, the Christ 
 of the Bible, the Man of Sorrows, the meek and lowly 
 Nazarene, could, and the masses would be tempted to 
 feel that they had a better right in a place sacred to His 
 worship than those who resembled Him in spirit as little 
 as they did in the pomp of their life. 
 
 There would be friction at first, and some serious, 
 trouble. Mr. Arnot's judgment was correct, and some 
 of the "first-class saints" (in their own estimation), 
 would be " blown out of their pews." St. Paul's would 
 eventually cease to be the fashionable Church par ex- 
 celleiice ; and this fact alone would be good and sufficient 
 reason for a change on the part of some who intend to be 
 select in their associations on earth, whatever relations 
 with the " mixed multitude " they may have to endure \n 
 heaven. But the warm-hearted and true-hearted would 
 remain ; and every church grows stronger as the Phari- 
 sees depart and the publicans and sinners enter. 
 
 The congregation that gathered at the evening service 
 281
 
 ^82 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of the memorable Sabbath described in the previous 
 chapter was prophetic. Many of the wealthy and aristo- 
 cratic members were absent, either from habit or disgust. 
 Haldane, Mr. Growther, and many who in some respects 
 resembled them, were present. " Jeems," the discrimi- 
 nating sexton, had sagaciously guessed that the wind was 
 about to blow from another quarter, and was veering 
 -around also, as fast as he deemed it prudent. " Ordinary 
 pussons " received more than ordinary attention, and 
 were placed within ear-shot of the speaker. 
 
 But the problem of poor Haldane' s future was not 
 clear by any means. It is true a desire to live a noble 
 life had been kindled in his heart, but as yet it was but 
 little more than a good impulse, an aspiration. In the 
 fact that his eyes had been turned questioningly and 
 hopefully toward the only One who has ever been able 
 to cope with the mystery of evil, there was rich promise ; 
 but just what this divine Friend could do for him he 
 understood as little as did the fishermen of Galilee. 
 They looked for temporal change and glory ; he was 
 looking for some vague and marvelous change and ex- 
 altation. 
 
 But the Sabbath passed, and he remained his old self. 
 Hoping, longing for the change did not produce it. 
 
 It was one of Mr. Growther' s peculiarities to have a fire 
 iipon the hearth even when the evenings were so warm as 
 not to require it. "Might as w^ft kinder git ourselves 
 used to heat," he would growLwhen Haldane remon- 
 strated. ' 
 
 After the evening service they both lowered at the fire 
 for some time in silence. j|^ 
 
 "Except ye be converted, and become as little chil- 
 <dren, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven," 
 had been Dr. Barstow's text ; and, as is usually the case, 
 the necessity of conversion had been made clearer than 
 just what conversion is ; and many more than the dis-
 
 FEEDING AN ANCIENT GRUDGE. 285 
 
 quieted occupants of the quaint old kitchen had been 
 sent home sorely perplexed how to set about the simple 
 task of "believing." But it was a happy thing for all 
 that they had been awakened to the fact that something 
 must be done. After that sermon none could delude 
 themselves with the hope that being decorous, well-dressed 
 worshipers at St. Paul's would be all that was required. 
 
 But Mr. Growther needed no argument on this subject,, 
 and he had long believed that his only chance was, as 
 he expressed it, " such an out-and-out shakin' to pieces,, 
 and makin' over agin that I wouldn't know myself." 
 Then he would rub his rheumatic legs despondently and 
 add, " But my speretual j'ints have got as stiff and dry 
 as these old walkin' pins ; and when I try to git up some 
 good sort o' feelin' it's like pumpin' of a dry pump. I 
 only feel real hearty when I'm a cussin'. A-a-h ! " 
 
 But the day's experience and teaching had awakened 
 anew in his breast, as truly as in Haldane's, the wish- 
 that he could be converted, whatever that blessed and 
 mysterious change might be ; and so, with his wrinkled 
 face seamed with deeper and more complex lines thart 
 usual, the poor old soul stared at the fire, which was at 
 once the chief source of his comfort and the emblem of 
 that which he most dreaded. At last he snarled, 
 
 " I'm a blasted old fool for goin' to meetin' and gittin" 
 all riled up so. Here, I haven't had a comfortable doze 
 to-day, and I shall be kickin' around all night with notliin" 
 runnin' in my head but ' Except ye be convarted, except 
 ye be convarted ; ' I wish I had as good a chance of 
 bein' convarted as I have of bein' struck by lightnin'." 
 
 "I wish I needed conversion as little as you," said 
 Haldane despondently. 
 
 " Now look here," snapped the old man : " I'm in no- 
 mood for any nonsense to-night. I want you to know I 
 never have been convarted, and I can prove it to you 
 plaguy quick if you stroke me agin the fur. You've got
 
 284 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 the advantage of me in this business, though you have 
 ■been a hard cuss; for you are young and kind o' hmber 
 yet." Then, as he glanced at the discouraged youth, his 
 manner changed, and in a tone that was meant to be 
 kindly he added, "There, there ! Why don't you pluck 
 up heart ? If I was as young as you be, I'd get convarted 
 if it took me all summer." 
 
 Haldane shook his head, and after a moment slowly 
 and musingly said, as much to himself as to the giver of 
 this good advice, 
 
 •' I'm in the Slough of Despond, and I don't know 
 'how to get out. I can see the sunny uplands that I long 
 to reach, but every thing is quaking and giving way 
 ■under my feet. After listening to Dr. Barstow's grand 
 sermon this morning, my spirit flamed up hopefully. 
 Now he has placed a duty directly in my path that I 
 cannot perform by myself. Mrs. Arnot has made it clear 
 to me that the manhood I need is Christian manhood. 
 Dr. Barstow proves out of the Bible that the first step 
 toward this is conversion, — which seems to be a mysteri- 
 ous change which I but vaguely understand, I must do 
 my part myself, he says, yet I am wholly dependent on 
 the will and co-operation of another. Just what am I to 
 do ? Just when and how will the help come in ? How 
 can I know that it will come ? or how can I ever be sure 
 that I have been converted ? " 
 
 " O, stop splittin' hairs! " said Mr. Growther, testily. 
 *• Hanged if I can tell you how it's all goin' to be brought 
 about, — go ask the parson to clear up these p'ints for you, 
 — but I can tell you this much : when you git convarted 
 you'll know it. If you had a ragin' toothache, and it 
 •suddenly stopped and you felt comfortable all over, 
 wouldn't you know it ? But that don't express it. You'd 
 feel more'n comfortable ; you'd feel so good you couldn't 
 hold in. You'd be fur shoutin' ; you wouldn't know 
 yourself. Why, doesn't the Bible say you'd be a new
 
 FEEDING AN ANCIENT GRUDGE. 285 
 
 critter? There'll be just such a change in your heart as 
 there is in this old kitchen when we come in on a cold, 
 dark night and light the candles, and kindle a fire. I 
 tell you what 'tis, young man, if you once got convarted 
 your troubles would be w^ell-nigh over." 
 
 Though the picture of this possible future was drawi> 
 in such homely lines, Haldane looked at it with wistful 
 eyes. He had become accustomed to his benefactor's 
 odd ways and words, and caught his sense beneath the 
 grotesque imagery. As he was then situated, the future 
 drawn by the old man and interpreted by himself was 
 peculiarly attractive. He was very miserable, and it is 
 most natural, especially for the young, to wish to be 
 happy. He had been led to believe that conversion 
 would lead to a happiness as great as it was mysterious^ 
 — a sort of miraculous ecstasy, that would render him 
 oblivious of the hard and prosaic conditions of his lot. 
 Through misfortune and his own fault he possessed a very- 
 defective character. This character had been formed, 
 it is true, by years of self-indulgence and wrong, and 
 Mrs. Arnot had asserted that reform would require long,, 
 patient, and heroic effort. Indeed, she had suggested 
 that in fighting and subduing the evils of one's own na- 
 ture a man attained the noblest degree of knighthood. 
 He had already learned how severe was the conflict in 
 which he had been led to engage. 
 
 But might not this mysterious conversion make things 
 infinitely easier? If a great and radical change were 
 suddenly wrought in his moral nature, would not evil ap- 
 petites and propensities be uprooted like vile weeds? If 
 a " new heart " were given him, would not the thoughts 
 and desires flowing from it be like pure water from an 
 unsullied spring? After the "old things" — that is the 
 evil — had passed away, would not that which was noble 
 and good spring up naturally, and almost spontaneously ? 
 
 This was Mr. Growther's view ; and he had long since
 
 286 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 learned that the old man's opinions were sound on most 
 questions. This seemed, moreover, the teaching of the 
 Bible also, and of such sermons as he could recall. And 
 yet it caused him some misgivings that Mrs. Arnot had 
 not indicated more clearly this short-cut out of his diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 But Mr. Growther's theology carried the day. As he 
 ^vatched the young man's thoughtful face he thought the 
 occasion ripe for the " word in season." 
 
 " Now is the time," he said ; " now while yer moral 
 j'ints is hmber. What's the use of climbin' the mountain 
 on your hands and knees when you can go up in a char- 
 iot of fire, if you can only git in it ? " arid he talked and 
 urged so earnestly that Haldane smiled and said, 
 
 " Mr. Growther, you have mistaken your vocation. 
 You ought to have been a missionary to the heathen." 
 
 " That would be sendin' a thief to ketch a thief. But 
 you know I've a grudge agin the devil, if I do belong to 
 him ; and if I could help git you out of his clutches it 
 would do me a sight o' good." 
 
 " If I ever do get out I shall indeed have to thank you." 
 
 " I don't want no thanks, and don't desarve any. 
 You're only giving me a chance to hit the adversary 
 'twixt the eyes," and the old man added his characteristic 
 "' A-a-h ! " in an emphatic and vengeful manner, as if he 
 would like to hit very hard. 
 
 Human nature was on the side of Mr. Growther's view 
 of conversion. Nothing is more common than the delu- 
 sive hope that health, shattered by years of willful wrong, 
 can be regained by the use of some highly extolled drug, 
 or by a few deep draughts from some far-famed spring. 
 
 Haldane retired to rest fully bent upon securing this 
 vague and mighty change as speedily as possible.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 HOPING FOR A MIRACLE. 
 
 Mr. Ivison, Haldane's employer, was a worshiper at 
 St. Paul's, and, like many others, had been deeply im- 
 pressed by the sermon. Its influence had not wholly ex- 
 haled by Monday, and, as this gentleman was eminently 
 practical, he felt that he ought to do something, as well as 
 experience a httle emotion. Thus he was led to address 
 the following note to Haldane : 
 
 Last week I gave you a chance ; this week I am induced to 
 give you a good word. While I warn you that I will tolerate 
 no weak dallying with your old temptations, I also tell you that 
 I would like to see you make a man of yourself, or, more cor- 
 rectly, perhaps, as Dr. Barstow would express it, be made a 
 man of If one wants to do right, I believe there is help for 
 him (go and ask tKe Rev. Dr. Barstow about this) ; and if you 
 will go right straight ahead till I see you can be depended 
 upon, I will continue to speak good words to you and for you, 
 and perhaps do more. George Ivison. 
 
 This note greatly encouraged Haldane, and made his 
 precarious foot-hold among the world's industries seem 
 more firm and certain. The danger of being swept back 
 into the deep water where those struggle who have no 
 foot-hold, no work, no place in society would not come 
 from the caprice or forgetfulness of his employer, but 
 from his own peculiar temptations and weaknesses. If 
 he could patiently do his duty in his present humble posi- 
 tion, he justly believed that it would be the stepping-stone 
 to something better. But, having learned to know him- 
 self, he was afraid of himself ; and he had seen with an 
 infinite dread what cold, dark depths yawn about one 
 whom society shakes off as a vile and venomous thing, 
 and who must eventually take evil and its consequences 
 as his only portion. The hot, reeking apartment wherein 
 he toiled was the first solid ground that he had felt be- 
 
 287
 
 288 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 neath his feet for many days. If he could hold that foot- 
 ing, the water might shoal so that he could reach the 
 land. It is true he could always look to his mother for 
 food and clothing if he would comply with her conditions. 
 But, greatly perverted as his nature had been, food and 
 clothing, the maintenance of a merely animal life, could no 
 longer satisfy him. He had thought too deeply, and had 
 seen too much truth, to feed contentedly among the swine. 
 
 But the temptations which eventually lead to the swine 
 — could he persistently resist these ? Could he maintain 
 a hard, monotonous routine of toil, with no excitements, 
 no pleasures, with nothing that even approached happi- 
 ness ? He dared not give way ; he doubted his strength 
 to go forward alone with such a prospect. If conversion 
 be a blessed miracle by which a debased nature is sud- 
 denly Hfted up, and a harsh, lead-colored, prosaic world 
 transfigured into the vestibule of heaven, he longed to 
 witness it in his o\^'n experience. 
 
 It was while he was in this mood that his thoughts re- 
 curred to Dr. Marks, the good old clergyman who had 
 been the subject of his rude, practical joke months before. 
 He recalled the sincere, frank letter which led to their 
 evening interview, and remembered with a thrill of hope 
 the strong and mysterious emotion that had seized upon 
 him as the venerable man took his hand in his warm 
 grasp, and said in tones of pathos that shook his soul, " I 
 wish I could lead you by loving force into the paths of 
 pleasantness and peace." Wild and reckless fool as he 
 then was, it had been only by a decided effort and abrupt 
 departure that he had escaped the heavenly influences 
 which seemed to brood in the quiet study where the good 
 man prayed and spun the meshes of the nets which he 
 daily cast for souls. If he could visit that study again 
 with a receptive heart, might not the emotion that he had 
 formerly resisted rise like a flood, and sweep away his old 
 miserable self, and he become in truth a " new creature " ?
 
 HOPING FOR A MIRACLE. 289 
 
 The thought, having been once entertained, speedily 
 grew into a hope, and then became almost a certainty. 
 He felt that he would much rather see Dr. Marks than 
 Dr, Barstow, and that if he could feel that kind, warm 
 grasp again, an impulse might be given him which even 
 Mrs. Arnot's wise and gentle words could not inspire. 
 
 Before the week was over, he felt that something must 
 be done either to soften his hard lot or to give him 
 strength to endure it. 
 
 The men, boys, and girls who worked at his side in the 
 mill were in their natures like their garb, coarse and 
 soiled. They resented the presence of Haldane for a 
 twofold reason; they regarded the intrusion of a "jail- 
 bird" among them in the light of an insult ; they were 
 still more annoyed, and perplexed also, that this disrepu- 
 table character made them feel that he was their superior. 
 Hence a system of petty persecution grew up. Epithets 
 were flung at him, and practical jokes played upon him 
 till his heart boiled with anger or his nerves were irritated 
 to the last degree of endurance. More than once his fist 
 was clenched to strike ; but he remembered in time that 
 the heavier the blow he struck, the more disastrously it 
 would react against himself. 
 
 After the exasperating experiences and noise of the 
 day, Mr. Growther's cottage was not the quiet refuge he 
 needed. Mr, Growther's growl was chronic, and it 
 rasped on Haldane's overstrained nerves hke the filing of 
 a saw. Dr, Barstow's sermons of the previous Sabbath 
 had emphatically "riled" the old gentleman, and their 
 only result, apparently, was to make him more out-of- 
 sorts and vindictive toward his poor, miserable little self 
 than ever. He was so irascibls that even the comfort- 
 able cat and dog became aware that something unusual 
 was amiss, and, instead of dozing securely, they learned 
 to keep a wary and deprecatory eye on their master and 
 the toes of his thick-soled slippers.
 
 290 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY^ 
 
 " I've been goin' on like a darned old porkerpine," he 
 said to Haldane one evening, " and if you don't git con- 
 varted soon you'd better git out of my way. If you was 
 as meek as Moses and twice as good you couldn't stand 
 me much longer;" and the poor fellow felt that there 
 was considerable truth in the remark. 
 
 The mill closed at an earlier hour on Saturday after- 
 noon, and he determined to visit Dr. Marks if he could 
 obtain permission from his employer to be absent a few 
 hours on Monday morning. He wrote a note to Mr. 
 Ivison, cordially thanking him for his encouraging words,, 
 but adding, frankly, that he could make no promises in 
 regard to himself. " All that I can say, is," he wrote^ 
 " that I am trying to do right now, and that I am grate- 
 ful to you for the chance you have given me. I wish to 
 get the 'help' you suggest in your note to me, but, in 
 memory of certain relations to my old pastor, Dr. Marks» 
 I would rather see him than Dr. Barstow, and if you will 
 permit me to be absent a part of next Monday forenoon 
 I will esteem it a great favor, and will trespass on your 
 kindness no further. I can go after mill-hours on Satur- 
 day, and will return by the first train on Monday." 
 
 Mr. Ivison readily granted the request, and even be- 
 came somewhat curious as to the result. 
 
 When Mrs. Arnot had learned from Haldane the na- 
 ture of his present employment, she had experienced 
 both pleasure and misgivings. That he was willing to 
 take and try to do such work rather than remain idle, or 
 take what he felt would be charity, proved that there was 
 more good metal in his composition than she had even 
 hoped ; but she naturally felt that the stinging annoy- 
 ances of his position would soon become intolerable. She 
 was not surprised, although she was somewhat perplexed, 
 at the receipt of the following letter : 
 
 My dear Mrs. Arnot : — You have been such a true, kind 
 friend to me, and have shown so much interest in my welfare,
 
 HOPING FOR A MIRACLE. 291 
 
 that I am led to give you a fuller insight into my present ex- 
 periences and hopes. You know that I wish to be a Christian. 
 You have made Christian manhood seem the most desirable 
 thing that I can ever possess, but I make little or no progress 
 toward it. Something must be done, and quickly too. Either 
 there must be a great change in me, or else in my circum- 
 stances. As there is no immediate prospect of the latter, I have 
 been led to hope that there can be such a change in me that I 
 shall be lifted above and made superior to the exasperating an- 
 noyances of my condition. Yes, I am hoping even far more. 
 If I could only experience the marvelous change which Dr. 
 Barstow described so eloquently last Sunday evening, might I 
 tiot do right easily and almost spontaneously ? It is so desper- 
 ately hard to do right now ! If conversion will render my 
 steep, thorny path infinitely easier, then surely I ought to seek 
 this change by every means in my power. Indeed, there must 
 be a change in me, or I shall lose even the foot-hold I have 
 gained. I am subjected, all day long, to insult and annoyance. 
 At times I am almost desperate and on the verge of reckless- 
 ness. Every one of the coarse creatures that I am compelled 
 to work with is a nettle that loses no chance to sting me ; and 
 there is one among them, a big, burly fellow, who is so offen- 
 sive that I cannot keep my hands off him much longer if I re- 
 main my old self. You also know what a reception I must ever 
 expect in the streets when I am recognized. The people act as 
 if I were some sort of a reptile, which they must tolerate at 
 large, but can, at least, shun with looks of aversion. And then, 
 when I get to Mr. Growther's cottage I do not find much res- 
 pite. It seems like ingratitude to write this, but the good old 
 man's eccentric habit of berating himself and the world in gen- 
 eral has grown wearisome, to say the least. I want to be lifted 
 ■cut of myself, — far above these petty vexations and my own 
 miserable weaknesses. 
 
 Once, before I left home, I played a rude joke on our good 
 old pastor. Instead of resenting it he wrote me such a kind 
 letter that I went to his study to apologize. While there his 
 manner and words were such that I had to break away to es- 
 cape a sudden and mysterious influence that inclined me toward 
 all that is good. I have hoped that if I should visit him I 
 might come under that influence again, and so be made a new 
 and better man. 
 
 I have also another motive, which you will understand. 
 Mother and I differ widely on many things, and always will ; 
 but I long to see her once more. I have been thinking of late 
 of her many kindnesses — O that she had been less kind, less 
 indulgent ! But she cannot help the past any more than I can.
 
 292 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and it may do us both good to meet once more. I do not think 
 that she will refuse to see me or give me shelter for a few 
 hours, even though her last letter seemed harsh. 
 
 I shall also be glad to escape for a few hours from my squalid 
 and wretched surroundings. The grime of the sordid things 
 with which I have so long been in contact seems eating into 
 my very soul, and I long to sleep once more m my clean, airy 
 room at home. 
 
 But I am inflicting myself too long upon you. Tliat I have 
 ventured to do so is due to your past kindness, which I can 
 only wonder at, but cannot explain. Gratefully yours, 
 
 E. Haldane. 
 
 Mrs, Arnot was more than curious ; she was deeply 
 interested in the result of this visit, and she hoped and 
 prayed earnestly that it might result in good. But she 
 had detected an element in the young man's letter which 
 caused her considerable uneasiness. His idea of con- 
 version was a sudden and radical change in character 
 that would be a sort of spiritual magic, contravening all 
 the natural laws of growth and development. He was 
 hoping to escape from his evil habits and weaknesses, 
 which were of long growth, as the leper escaped from his 
 disease, by a healing and momentary touch. He would 
 surely be disappointed : might he not also be discour- 
 aged, and give up the patient and prayerful struggle 
 which the sinful must ever wage against sin in this world ' 
 She trusted, however, that God had commenced a good 
 work in his heart, and would finish it. 
 
 Even the sight of his native city, with its spires glisten- 
 ing in the setting sun, moved Haldane deeply ; and when 
 in the dusk he left the train, and walked once more 
 through the familiar streets, his heart was crowded with 
 pleasant and bitter memories, which naturally produced 
 a softened and receptive mood. 
 
 He saw many well-remembered faces, and a few 
 
 U glanced at him as if he suggested one whom they had 
 
 known. But he kept his hat drawn over his eyes, and, 
 
 taking advantage of the obscurity of the night, escaped 
 
 recognition.
 
 HOPING FOR A MIRACLE. 293 
 
 " It is almost like coming back after one has died," he 
 said to himself. "1 once thought myself an important 
 personage in this town, but it has got on better without 
 me than it would have done with me. Truly, Mrs. Ar- 
 not is right, — it's little the world cares for any one, and 
 the absurdest of all blunders is to live for its favor." 
 
 It was with a quickly beating heart that he rang the 
 bell at the parsonage, and requested to be shown up to 
 Dr. Marks' study. Was this the supreme moment of his 
 life, and he on the eve of that mysterious, spiritual 
 change, of which he had heard so much, and the results 
 of which would carry him along as by a steady, mighty 
 impulse through earth's trials to heaven's glory? He 
 fairly trembled at the thought. 
 
 The girl who had admitted him pointed to the open 
 study door, and he silently crossed its threshold. The 
 good old clergyman was bending over his sermon, to 
 which he was giving his finishing touches, and the soft 
 rays of the student's lamp made his white hair seem like 
 a halo about his head. 
 
 The sacred quiet of the place was disturbed only by 
 the quill of the writer, who was penning words as un- 
 worldly^as himself. Another good old divine, with his 
 Bible in his hand, looked down benignantly and en- 
 couragingly at the young man from his black-walnut 
 frame. He was the sainted predecessor of Dr. Marks, 
 and the sanctity of his life of prayer and holy toil also 
 lingered in this study. Old volumes and heavy tomes 
 gave to it the peculiar odor which we associate with the 
 cloister, and suggested the prolonged spiritual musings of 
 the past, which are so out of vogue in the hurried, 
 pracdcal world of to-day. This study was, indeed, a 
 quiet nook, — a little, slowly moving eddy left far behind 
 by the dashing, foaming current of modern life ; and 
 Haldane felt impressed that he had found the hallowed 
 place, the true Bethel, where his soul might be born anew.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 THE MIRACLE TAKES PLACE. 
 
 "The body of my sermon is finished ; may the Lord 
 breathe into it the breath of Hfe ! " ejaculated Ur, Marks, 
 leaning back in his chair. 
 
 Haldane now secured his attention by knocking lightly 
 on the open door. The old gentleman arose and came 
 forward with the ordinary kindly manner with which he 
 would greet a stranger. 
 
 " You do not remember me," said Haldane. 
 
 " I cannot say that I do. My eyesight is not as good 
 as when I was at your age." 
 
 " I am also the last one you expect to see, but I trust 
 I shall not be unwelcome when you know my motive for 
 coming. I am Egbert Haldane, and I have hoped that 
 your study would remain open, though nearly all respect- 
 able doors are closed against me." 
 
 "Egbert Haldane! Can I believe my eyes?" ex- 
 claimed the old clergyman, stepping eagerly forward. 
 
 "When last in this place," continued the youth, "T 
 was led by your generous forgiveness of my rude be- 
 havior toward you to say, that if I ever wished to be- 
 come a Christian I would come to you sooner than to 
 any one else. I have come, for I wish to be a Christian.'* 
 
 " Now the Lord be praised ! He has heard His serv- 
 ant's prayers," responded Dr. Marks fervently. "My 
 study is open to you, my son, and my heart, too," he 
 added, taking Haldane's hand in both of his with a grasp 
 that emphasized his cordial words. " Sit down by me 
 here, and tell me all that is on your mind." 
 
 This reception was so much kinder than he had even 
 
 294
 
 THE MIRACLE TAKES PLACE. 295 
 
 hoped, that Haldane was deeply moved. The strong, 
 genuine sympathy unsealed his lips, and in honest and 
 impetuous words he told the whole story of his life since 
 their last interview. The good doctor was soon fumbling 
 for his handkerchief, and as the story culminated, 
 mopped his eyes, and ejaculated, " Poor fellow ! " with 
 increasing frequency. 
 
 "And now," concluded Haldane, "if I could only 
 think that God would receive me as you have, — if He 
 would only change me from my miserable self to what I 
 know I ought to be, and long to be, — I feel that I could 
 serve Him with gratitude and gladness the rest of my life, 
 even though I should remain in the humblest station ; 
 and I have come to ask you what I am to do? " 
 
 " He will receive you, my boy ; He will receive you. 
 No fears on that score," said the doctor, with a hearti- 
 ness that carried conviction. "But don't ask me what 
 to do. I'm not going to interfere in the Lord's work. 
 He is leading you. If you wanted a text or a doctrine 
 explained I'd venture to give you my views : but in this 
 vital matter I shall leave you in God's hands, 'being 
 confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a 
 good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus 
 Christ,' I once set about reforming you myself, and you 
 know what a bungle I made of it. Now I believe the 
 Lord has taken you in hand, and I shall not presume to 
 meddle. Bow with me in prayer that He may speedily 
 bring you into His marvelous light and knowledge." 
 And the good man knelt and spread his hands toward 
 heaven, and prayed with the simplicity and undoubting 
 faith of an ancient patriarch. 
 
 Was his faith contagious ? Did the pathos of his voice, 
 his strongly manifested sympathy, combine with all that 
 had gone before to melt the young man's heart ? Or, in 
 answer to the prayer, was there present One whose 
 province it is to give life ? Like the wind that mysteri-
 
 296 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ously rises and comes toward one with its viewless, yet 
 distinctly felt power, Haldane was conscious of influences 
 at work in his heart that were as potent as tiiey were in- 
 comprehensible. Fear and doubt were passing away. 
 Deep emotion thrilled his soul. Nothing was distinct 
 save a rush of feeling which seemed to lift him up as on 
 a mighty tide, and bear him heavenward. 
 
 This was what he had sought ; this was what he had 
 hoped ; this strong, joyous feeling, welling up in his heart 
 like a spring leaping into the sunlight, must be conversion. 
 
 When he arose from his knees his eyes were full of 
 tears, but a glad radiance shone through them, and, 
 grasping the doctor's hand, he said brokenly, 
 
 " I beheve your prayer has been answered. I never 
 felt so strangely — so happy before." 
 
 "Come with me," cried the old man, impetuously, 
 "come with me. Your mother must learn at once that 
 her son, who 'was dead, is alive again;' " and a few 
 moments later Haldane was once more in the low carriage, 
 on his way, with the enthusiastic doctor, to his old home. 
 
 "We won't permit ourselves to be announced," said 
 the childhke old clergyman as they drove up the graveled 
 road. " We will descend upon your mother and sisters 
 like an avalanche of happiness." 
 
 The curtains in the sitting-room were not drawn, and 
 the family group was before them. The apartment was 
 furnished with elegance and taste, but the very genius of 
 dreariness seemed to brood over its occupants. The 
 somber colors of their mourning dresses seemed a part of 
 the deep shadow that was resting upon them, and the 
 depth and gloom of the shadow was intensified by their 
 air of despondency and the pallor of their faces. The 
 younger daughter was reading, but the elder and the 
 mother held their hands listlessly in their laps, and their 
 eyes were fixed on vacancy, after the manner of those 
 whose thoughts are busy with painful themes.
 
 THE 3IIEACLE TAKES PLACE. 297 
 
 Haldane could endure but a brief glance, and rushed 
 ;n, exclaiming, 
 
 " Mother, forgive me ! " 
 
 His presence was so unexpected and his onset so im- 
 petuous that the widow had no time to consider what 
 kind of a reception she ought to give her wayward son^ 
 of whom she had washed her hands. 
 
 Her mother-love triumphed ; her heart had long been 
 sore with grief, and she returned his embrace with equal 
 heartiness. 
 
 His sisters, however, had inherited more of their 
 mother's conventionality than of her heart ; and the fact 
 that this young man was their brother did not by any 
 means obhterate from their minds the other facts, that he 
 had a very bad reputation and that he was abominably- 
 dressed. Their greeting, therefore, was rather grave and 
 constrained, and suggested that there might have been a 
 death in the family, and that their brother had come 
 home to attend the funeral. 
 
 But the unworldly Dr. Marks was wholly absorbed in 
 the blessed truth that the dead was alive and the lost 
 found. He had followed Haldane into the apartment^ 
 rubbing his hands, and beaming general congratulation. 
 Believing that the serene light of Heaven's favor rested 
 on the youth, he had forgotten that it would be long be- 
 fore society relaxed its dark frown. It seemed to him 
 that it was an occasion for great and unmixed rejoic- 
 ing. 
 
 After some brief explanations had been given to the be- 
 wildered household, the doctor said : 
 
 "My dear madam, I could not deny myself the pleas- 
 ure of coming with your son, that I might rejoice with 
 you. The Lord has answered our prayers, you see, and 
 you have reason to be the happiest woman living." 
 
 "I am glad, indeed," sighed the widow, "that some 
 light is beginning to shine through this dark and myste-
 
 298 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 rious providence, for it has been so utterly dark and full 
 of mystery that my faith was beginning to waver." 
 
 "The Lord will not suffer you to be tempted above 
 that you are able," said the clergyman, heartily. " When 
 relief is essential it comes, and it always will come, rest 
 iissured. Take comfort, madam ; nay, let your heart 
 overflow with joy without fear. The Lord means well by 
 this young man. Take the unspeakable blessing He 
 sends you with the gladness and gratitude of a child re- 
 ceiving gifts from a good Father's hands. Since He has 
 begun the good work. He'll finish it." 
 
 *• I hope so. I do, indeed, hope that Egbert will now 
 come to his senses, and see things and duty in their true 
 light, as other people do," ejaculated the widow, fer- 
 vently. " If he had only taken the excellent advice you 
 first gave him here, how much better it would have been for 
 us all ! But now — " A dreary sigh closed the sentence. 
 
 " But now," responded the doctor, a little warmly, 
 •" the Lord has saved a soul from death, and that soul is 
 your only son. It appears to me that this thought should 
 swallow up every other ; and it will, when you realize it," 
 he concluded, heartily. "This world and the fashion 
 of it passeth away. Since all promises well for the world 
 to come, you have only cause for joy. As for my excel- 
 lent advice, I was* better pleased with it at the time than 
 the Lord was. I now am thankful that He let it do no 
 more harm than it did." 
 
 "We cannot help the past, mother," said Haldane, 
 •eagerly, " let us turn our eyes to the future, w^hich is all 
 aglow with hope. I feel that God has forgiven me, and 
 the thought fills my heart with a tumult of joy. Your 
 warm embrace assures me that you have also forgiven 
 the wrong, the shame, and sorrow you have received at 
 my hands. Henceforth it shall be my life-effort that you 
 receive the reverse of all this. I at last feel within n>e 
 the power to live as a true man ought."
 
 THE BUR A CLE TAKES PLACE. 299 
 
 " I trust your hopes may be realized, Egbert ; I do, 
 indeed ; but you were so confident before — and then we 
 all know what followed," concluded his mother, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 " My present feeling, my present motives, in no re- 
 spect resemble my condition when I started out before. 
 I was then a conceited fool, ignorant of myself, the 
 world, and the task I had attempted. But now I feel 
 that all is different. Mother," he exclaimed with a 
 rush of emotion, " I feel as if heaven had almost begun 
 in my heart! why, then, do you cloud this bright hour 
 with doubts and fears? " 
 
 "Well, my son, we will hope for the best," said his 
 mother, endeavoring to throw off her despondency, and 
 share in the spirit which animated her pastor. " But I 
 have dwelt so long in sorrow and foreboding that it will 
 require time before I can recover my old natural tone. 
 These sudden and strong alternations of feeling and ac- 
 tion on your part puzzle and disquiet me, and I cannot 
 see why one brought up as you have been should not 
 maintain a quiet, well-bred deportment, and do right as 
 a matter of course, as your sisters do. And yet, if Dr. 
 Marks truly thinks that you mean to do right from this 
 time forward, 1 shall certainly take courage ; though how 
 we are going to meet what has already occurred 1 hardly 
 see." 
 
 " 1 do, indeed, believe that your son intends to do- 
 right, and I also believe that the Lord intends to help 
 him — which is of far greater consequence," said Dr. 
 Marks. " I will now bid you good night, as to-morrow 
 is the Sabbath ; and let me entreat you, my dear madam, 
 in parting, to further by your prayer and sympathy the 
 good work which the Lord has begun," 
 
 Haldane insisted on seeing the old gentleman safely 
 back to his study. Their ride was a rather quiet one^ 
 each being busy with his own thoughts. The good man
 
 300 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 had found his enthusiasm strangely quenched in the at- 
 mosphere in which Mrs. Haldane dwelt, and found that, 
 in spite of himself, he was sharing in her doubts and 
 fears as to the future course of the erratic and impulsive 
 youth at his side. He blamed himself for this, and tried 
 to put doubt resolutely away. By a few earnest words 
 lie sought to show the young man that only as the grace 
 of God was daily asked for and daily received could he 
 hope to maintain the Christian life. 
 
 He now began to realize what a. difficult problem was 
 before the youth. Society would be slow to give him 
 credit for changed motives and character, and as proof 
 would take only patient continuance in well-doing. The 
 good doctor now more than suspected that in his own 
 home Haldane would find much that was depressing and 
 enervating. Worse than all he would have to contend 
 ■with an excitable and ungoverned nature, already sadly 
 warped and biased wrongly. " What will be the final 
 result?" sighed the old gentleman to himself. But he 
 soon fell back hopefully on his belief that the Lord had 
 begun a good work and would finish it. 
 
 Haldane listened attentively and gratefully to all that 
 his old friend had to say, and felt sure that he could and 
 would follow the advice given. Never before had right 
 hving seemed so attractive, and the path of duty so 
 luminous. But the thought that chiefly filled him with 
 joy was that henceforth he would not be compelled to 
 plod forward as a weary pilgrim. He felt that he had 
 wings ; some of the divine strength had been given him. 
 He believed himself changed, renewed, transformed ; he 
 was confident that his old self had perished and passed 
 away, and that, as a new creature, ennobling tendencies 
 would control him completely. He felt that prayer would 
 henceforth be as natural as breathing, and praise and 
 worship, the strong and abiding instincts of his heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 
 
 When Haldane returned he found that his sisters had 
 retired. He was not sorry, for he wished a long and un- 
 restrained talk with his mother ; but that lady pleaded 
 that the events of the evening had so unnerved her, and 
 that there was so much to be considered, that she must 
 have quiet. In the morning they would try to realize 
 their situation, and decide upon the best course to be 
 pursued. 
 
 Even in his exaltation the last suggestion struck Hal- 
 dane unpleasantly. Might not his mother mark out, and 
 take as a test of his sincerity, some course that would ac- 
 cord with her ideas of right, but not with his? But the 
 present hour was so full of mystical and inexplicable 
 happiness that he gave himself up to it, believing that the 
 divine hands, in which he believed himself to be, would 
 provide for him as a helpless child is cared for. 
 
 The mill-people among whom he had worked the 
 previous week would scarcely have recognized him as he 
 came down to breakfast the following morning, dressed 
 with taste and elegance. It was evident that his sisters 
 could endure him with better grace than when clad in 
 his coarse, working garb, redolent with the hitherto un- 
 imagined odors pertaining to well-oiled machinery. 
 They, with his mother, greeted him, however, with the 
 air of those who are in the midst of the greatest misfor- 
 tunes, but who hope they see a coming ray of light. 
 
 With their sincere but conventional ideas of life he was, 
 in truth, a difficult problem. Nor can they be very greatly 
 blamed. This youth, who might have been their natural 
 
 301
 
 302 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 t 
 protector against every scandalous and contemptuous 
 word, and whose arm it would have been their pride to 
 take before the world, had now such a reputation that 
 only an affection all-absorbing and unselfish would be 
 willing to brave the curious and scornful stare that fol- 
 lows one who had been so disgraced. Mrs. Haldane 
 and her daughters were not without natural affection, but 
 they were morbidly sensitive to public opinion. Like 
 many who live somewhat secluded from the world, they 
 imagined that vague and dreaded entity was giving them 
 much more attention than it did. "What will people 
 say?" was a terrible question to them. 
 
 Nothing could be farther from their nature than an at- 
 tempt to attract the world's attention by loud manners or 
 flaunting dress ; but it was essential to their peace that 
 good society should regard them as eminently respectable, 
 aristocratic, and high-toned — as a family far removed 
 from vulgar and ordinary humanity. That their name, 
 in the person of a son and brother, had been dragged 
 through courts, criminal records, and jails, was an un- 
 paralleled disaster, that grew more overwhelming as they 
 brooded over it. It seemed to them that the world's 
 great eye was turned full upon them in scorn and wonder, 
 and that only by maintaining their perfect seclusion, or 
 by hiding among strangers, could they escape its cruel 
 glare. 
 
 After all, their feehngs were only morbid developments 
 of the instincts of a refined womanly nature ; but the 
 trouble was, they had not the womanly largeness of heart 
 and affection which would have made them equal to the 
 emergency, however painful. Poor Mrs. Haldane was 
 one of those unfortunate people who always fall below 
 the occasion ; indeed, she seldom realized it. Providence 
 had now given her a chance to atone for much of her 
 former weakness and ruinous indulgence, but her little 
 mind was chiefly engrossed with the question, What can
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 303 
 
 we do to smooth matters over, and regain something like 
 our old standing in society ? As the result of a long con- 
 sultation with her daughters, it was concluded that their 
 best course was to go abroad. There they could venture 
 ■out with him who was the skeleton of the household, 
 without having every one turn and look after them with 
 all kinds of comment upon their hps. After several years 
 in Europe they hoped society would be inclined to forget 
 and overlook the miserable record of the past few months. 
 
 That the young man himself would offer opposition to 
 the plan, and prefer to return to the scene of his disgrace, 
 and to his sordid toil, did not enter their minds. 
 
 In the enthusiasm of his new-born faith Haldane had 
 determined to face the pubUc gaze, and hear Dr. Marks 
 preach. It is true, he had greatly dreaded the ordeal — 
 and for his mother and sisters, far more than for himself. 
 When he began to intimate something of this feeling his 
 mother promptly motioned to the waitress to withdraw 
 from the room. He then soon learned that they had not 
 attended church since Mrs. Haldane' s return from her 
 memorable visit to Hillaton, and that they had no inten- 
 tion of going to-day. 
 
 "The very thought makes me turn faint and sick," 
 said the poor, weak gentlewoman. 
 
 " We should feel like sinking through the floor of the 
 aisle," chorused the pallid young ladies. 
 
 Haldane ceased partaking of his breakfast at once, and 
 leaned back in his chair. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," he asked gloomily, " that my 
 folly has turned this house into a tomb, and that you will 
 bury yourselves here indefinitely ? " 
 
 " Well," sighed the mother, " if we live this wretched 
 life of seclusion, brooding over our troubles much longer, 
 smaller tombs will suffice us. You see that your sisters 
 are beginning to look like ghosts, and I'm sure I feel 
 that I can never hft up my head again. I know it is said
 
 304 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 that time works wonders. Perhaps if we went abroad for 
 a few years, and then resided in some other city, or in the 
 seclusion of some quiet country place, we might escape 
 this — " and Mrs. Haldane finished with a sigh that was 
 far worse than any words could have been. After a mo- 
 ment she concluded : " But, of course, we cannot go out 
 here, where all that has happened is so fresh, and upper- 
 most in every one's mind. The more I think of it, the 
 more decided I am that the best thing for us all is to go 
 to some quiet watering-place in Europe, where there are 
 but few, if any, Americans ; and in time we may feel 
 differently." 
 
 Her son ate no more breakfast. He was beginning to 
 reahze, as he had not before, that he was in a certain 
 sense a corpse, which this decorous and exquisitely refined 
 family could not bury, but would hide as far as possible. 
 
 " You then expect me to go with you to Europe?" he 
 said. 
 
 " Certainly. We could not go without a gentleman." 
 
 "That I scarcely am now, mother, in your estimation 
 or in society's. I think you could get on better without me." 
 
 «' Now, Egbert, be sensible." 
 
 "What am I to do in this secluded European water- 
 ing-place, where there are no Americans, and at which 
 we are to sojourn indefinitely ? " 
 
 " I am sure I have not thought. Your sisters, at least, 
 can venture out and get a breath of fresh air. It is time 
 you thought of them rather than of yourself. You could 
 amuse yourself with the natives, or by fishing and hunt- 
 ing." 
 
 "Mother! " he exclaimed, impetuously, "I no longer 
 desire to merely amuse myself. I wish to become a man, 
 in the best sense of the word." 
 
 Mrs. Haldane evidently experienced a disagreeable 
 nervous shock at the sudden intensity of his manner, but 
 she said, with rebuking quietness,
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 305 
 
 " I am sure I wish you to become such a man, thor- 
 oughly well bred, and thoroughly under self-control. It 
 is my purpose to enable you to appear like a perfect gen- 
 tleman from this time forward, and I expect that you will 
 be one." 
 
 "What will I be but a well-dressed nonentity? what 
 will I be but a coward, seeking to get away as far as pos- 
 sible from the place of my defeat, and to hide from its 
 consequences?" he answered, with sharp, bitter emphasis. 
 
 " Egbert, your tendency to exaggeration and violent 
 speech is more than I can bear in my weak, nervous con- 
 dition. When you have thought this matter over calmly, 
 and have realized how I and your sisters feel, you will 
 see that we are right — that is, if Dr. Marks is correct, 
 and you do really wish to atone for the past as far as it 
 now can be done." 
 
 The young man paced restlessly up and down the room 
 in an agitated manner, which greatly disquieted his 
 mother and sisters. 
 
 "Can you not realize," he at last burst out, "that I, 
 also, have a conscience ? that I am no longer a child ? 
 and that I cannot see things as you do? " 
 
 " Egbert," exclaimed his elder sister, lifting her hand 
 deprecatingly, " we are not deaf." 
 
 " If you will only follow your conscience," continued 
 Mrs. Haldane, in her low monotone, " all will be well. 
 It is your being carried away by gusts of impulse and 
 violent passions that makes all the trouble. If you had 
 followed your conscience you would have at once left Hil- 
 laton at my request, and hidden yourself in the seclusion 
 that I indicated. If you had done so, you might have 
 saved yourself and us from all that has since occurred." 
 
 " But I would have lost my self-respect. I should 
 have done worse — " 
 
 "Self-respect!" interrupted his mother, with an ex- 
 pression akin to disgust flitting across her pale face.
 
 306 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 '• How can you use that word after what has happened, 
 and especially now that you are working among those 
 vulgar factory people, and living with that profane old 
 creature who goes by the name of 'Jerry Growler.' To 
 think that you, who bear your father's name, should have 
 fallen so low ! The daily and hourly mortification of 
 thinking of all this, here, where for so many years there 
 was not a speck upon our family reputation, is more than 
 flesh and blood can endure. Our only course now is to 
 go away where we are not known. Our best hope is to 
 make you appear like what your father meant you should 
 be, and try to forget that you have been any thing 
 else ; and if you have any sense of obligation to us left 
 you will do what you can to carry out our efforts. Dr. 
 Marks thinks you have met with • a change of heart.' I 
 am sure you can prove it in no better way than by a 
 docile acquiescence in the wishes of one who has a 
 natural right to control you, and whose teachings," she 
 added complacently, "had they been followed, would 
 have enabled you to hold up your head to-day among 
 the proudest in the land." 
 
 Haldane buried his face in his hands, and fairly groaned, 
 in his disappointment and sense of humiliation. 
 
 "Is it possible," asked one of his sisters, "that yoa 
 thought that we could all go out to church to-day as usual, 
 and commence life to-morrow where we left off when you 
 first went away from home ? " 
 
 "I expected nothing of the kind," said her brother, 
 Hfting up a face that was pale from suppressed feeling; 
 "the fact is, I have thought little about all this that is 
 uppermost in your minds. I have been all through the 
 phase of shrinking from the world's word and touch, as 
 if my whole being were a diseased nerve. While in that 
 condition I suffered enough, God knows ; but even in the 
 police court I was not made to feel more thoroughly that 
 I was a disgraced criminal than I have been here, in my
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 307 
 
 childhood's home. Perhaps you can't help your feeling ; 
 but the result is all the same. Through the influence of 
 a woman who belongs to heaven rather than earth, I was 
 led to forget the world and all about it ; I was led to wish 
 to form a good character for its own sake. I wanted to 
 be rid of the debasing vices of my nature which she had 
 made me hate, and which would separate me from such 
 as she is. I wanted your forgiveness, mother. More 
 than all, I wanted God's forgiveness, and that great 
 change in my nature which He alone can bestow. I felt 
 that Dr. Marks could help me, because I beheved in him ; 
 and he did carry me, as it were, to the very gate of 
 heaven. I expected, at least, a httle sympathy from you 
 all, and a God-speed as I went back to my work to-mor- 
 row. I even hoped that you might take me by the hand, 
 and say to those who knew us here, ' My son was lost, 
 but is found. He wishes to live a manly, Christian life, 
 and all who are Christians should help him.' I find, on 
 the contrary, that Christ and His words are forgotten ; 
 that I am regarded as a hideous and deformed creature, 
 that must be disguised as far as possible, and spirited off 
 to some remote corner of the earth, and there virtually 
 buried alive. Thus different are the teachings of the 
 Bible and the teachings of the world. I thought I could 
 not endure my hard lot at Hillaton any longer, but I shall 
 go back to it quite content." 
 
 As the youth uttered these words, with his usual im- 
 petuosity, his mother could only weep and tremble in her 
 weak and nervous way ; but his sisters exclaimed : 
 
 " (io back to your old mill-life at Hillaton ! " 
 
 "Yes, by the first train, to-morrow." 
 
 "Well!" they chorused, with a long breath, but as 
 all language seemed inadequate they added nothing to 
 their exclamation. 
 
 Mrs. Haldane slowly wiped her eyes, and said, " Eg- 
 bert is excited now, and does not realize how we feel.
 
 308 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 After he has thought it all over quietly he will see things 
 in a different light, and will perceive that he should take 
 counsel from his mother rather than from a stranger" 
 (with pecuhar emphasis on this word). "If he really 
 wishes to do his duty as a Christian man, he will see that 
 the first and most sacred obligations resting on him are 
 to us and not to others, even though they may be more 
 angelic than we are. You promised last evening that it 
 would be your life-effort to make amends for the wrongs 
 you have inflicted upon us ; and going back to your old, 
 sordid life and vulgar associations would be a strange 
 way of keeping this pledge. I suggest that we all retire 
 to our rooms, and in the after part of the day we shall 
 be calmer, and therefore more rational; " and the ladies 
 quietly glided out, like black shadows. Indeed, they 
 and their lives had become little more than attenuated 
 shadows. 
 
 There is nothing which so thoroughly depletes and robs 
 moral character of all substance — there is nothing which 
 so effectually destroys all robust individuahty — as the con- 
 tinuous asking of the question, " What will people say? " 
 
 Poor Haldane went to his room, and paced it by the 
 hour. He had learned thus early that the Christian life 
 was not made up of sacred and beatific emotions, under 
 the influence of which duty would become an easy, sun- 
 illumined path. 
 
 He already was in sore perplexity as to what his duty 
 was in this instance. Ought he not to devote himself tc^ 
 his mother and sisters, and hope that time would bring a 
 healthful change in their morbid feeling ? Surely what 
 they asked would not seem hard in the world's estima- 
 tion — a trip to Europe, and a life of luxurious ease and 
 amusement — for society would agree with his mother^ 
 that he could be as good and Christian-like as he pleased 
 in the meantime. The majority would say that if he 
 could in part make amends by acquiescence in so reason-
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 309 
 
 able a request, and one that promised so much of pleas- 
 ure and advantage to himself, he ought certainly to yield. 
 
 But all that was good and manly in the young fellow's 
 nature rose up against the plan. In the first place, he 
 instinctively felt that his mother and sisters' views on 
 nearly all subjects would be continually at variance with 
 his own, since they were coming to look at life from such 
 totally different standpoints. He also believed that he 
 would be an ever-present burden and source of mortifi- 
 cation to them. As a child and a boy he had been their 
 idol. They had looked forward to the time when he, 
 with irreproachable manners and reputation, would be- 
 come their escort in the exclusive circles in which they 
 were entitled to move. Now he was and would continue 
 to be the insuperable bar to those circles ; and by their 
 sighs and manner he would be continually reminded of 
 this fact. Fallen idols are a perpetual offense to their 
 former worshipers, as they ever remind of the downfall 
 of towering hopes. 
 
 With all his faults, Haldane had too much spirit to go 
 through life as one who must be tolerated, endured, kept 
 in the background, and concerning whom no questions 
 must be asked. 
 
 He did think the matter over long and carefully, and 
 concluded that even for his mother and sisters' sake it 
 would be best that they should Hve apart. If he could 
 thoroughly retrieve his character where he had lost it, 
 they would be reconciled to him ; if he could not, he 
 would be less of a burden and a mortification absent 
 than present. 
 
 When he considered his own feelings, the thought of 
 skulking and hiding through life made his cheek tingle 
 with shame and disgust. Conscience sided with his in- 
 clination to go back to his old, hard fight at Hillaton ; 
 and it also appeared to him that he could there better 
 maintain a Christian life, in spite of all the odds against
 
 310 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 him, than by taking the enervating course marked out 
 by his mother. He also remembered, with a faint thrill 
 of hope, that whatever recognition he could get at Hilla- 
 ton as a changed, a better man, it would be based on the 
 rock of truth. 
 
 He therefore concluded to go back as he had intended, 
 and with the decision came his former, happy, mystical 
 feeling, welling up in his heart hke the sweet refreshing 
 waters of a spring, the consciousness of which filled his 
 heart with courage and confidence as to the future. 
 
 "Surely," he exclaimed, " I am a changed, a con- 
 verted man. These strange, sweet emotions, this un- 
 speakable gladness of heart in the midst of so much that 
 is painful and distracting, prove that I am. I have not 
 taken this journey in vain." 
 
 Haldane met only his sisters at dinner, for the scene 
 of the morning had prostrated his mother w ith a nervous 
 headache. In spite of his efforts, it was a constrained 
 and dismal affair, and all were glad when it was over. 
 
 In the evening they all met in Mrs. Haldane's room, 
 and the young man told them his decision so firmly and 
 quietly that, while they were both surprised and angry, 
 they saw it was useless to remonstrate. He next drew 
 such a dreary picture of the future as they had designed 
 it, that they were half incHned to think he was right, and 
 that his presence would be a greater source of pain than 
 of comfort to them. He also convinced them that it 
 would be less embarrassing for them to go to Europe 
 alone than with his escort, and that the plan of going 
 abroad need not be given up. 
 
 But Mrs. Haldane was strenuous on the point that he 
 should leave Hillaton, accept of her old offer, and live a 
 quiet, respectable life in some retired place where he was 
 not known. 
 
 " I will not have it said," she persisted, " that my son 
 is working as a common factory hand, nor will I have
 
 VOTARIES OF THE WORLD. 311! 
 
 our name associated with that wretched old creature 
 whose profanity and general outlandishness are the town- 
 talk and the constant theme of newspaper squibs. You 
 at least owe it to us to let this scandal die out as speedily 
 as possible. If you will comply with these most reason- 
 able requirements, I will see that you have an abundant 
 support. If you will not, I have no evidence of a change 
 in your character ; nor can I see any better way than to 
 leave you to suffer the consequences of your folly until 
 you do come to your senses." 
 
 "Mother, do you think a young fellow of my years 
 and energy could go to an out-of-the-way place, and just 
 mope, eat, and sleep for the sake of being supported? I 
 would rather starve first. I fear we shall never under- 
 stand each other ; and I have reached that point in life 
 w^hen I must follow my own conscience. I shall leave 
 to-morrow morning before any of you are up ; and in my 
 old working clothes. Good-by ; " and before they could 
 realize it he had kissed them and left the room. 
 
 They weakly sighed as over the inevitable ; but one of 
 his sisters said, " He will be glad enough to come to your 
 terms before winter."
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 At an early hour Haldane, true to his purpose, de- 
 parted from the home of his childhood in the guise of a 
 laborer, as he had come. His mother heard his step on 
 the stairs, for she had passed a sleepless night, agitated 
 by painful emotions. She wished to call him back ; she 
 grieved over his course as a " dark and mysterious provi- 
 dence," as a misfortune which, hke death, could not be 
 escaped ; but with the persistency of a httle mind, capa- 
 ble of taking but a single and narrow view, she was ab- 
 solutely sure she w-as right in her course, and that nothing 
 but harsh and bitter experience would bring her wayward 
 son to his senses. 
 
 Nor did it seem that the harsh experience would be 
 wanting, for the morning was well advanced when he 
 reached his place of work, and he received a severe 
 reprimand from the foreman for being so late. His ex- 
 planation, that he had received permission to be absent, 
 was incredulously received. It also seemed that gibes, 
 taunts, and sneers were flung at him with increasing 
 venom by his ill-natured associates, who were vexed that 
 they had not been able to drive him away by their perse- 
 cutions. 
 
 But the object of their spite was dwelling in a world of 
 which they knew nothing, and in which they had no part, 
 and, almost obHvious of their existence, he performed his 
 mechanical duty in almost undisturbed serenity. 
 
 Mr. Growther welcomed him back most heartily, and 
 with an air of eager expectation, and when Haldane 
 312
 
 HUMAN NATURE. 315 
 
 briefly but graphically narrated his experience, he hob- 
 bled up and down the room in a state of great excitement. 
 
 "You've got it! you've got it! and the genuine arti- 
 cle, too, as sure as my name is Jeremiah Growther I " he 
 exclaimed ; " I'd give the whole airth, and any thing else 
 to boot, that was asked, if I could only git religion. But 
 it's no use for me to think about it ; I'm done, and cooled 
 off, and would break inter ten thousand pieces if I tried 
 to change myself. I couldn't feel what you feel any more 
 than I could run and jump as you kin. My moral j'ints 
 is as stiff as hedge-stakes. If I tried to git up a little of 
 your feelin', it would be hke tryin* to hurry along the 
 spring by buildin' a fire on the frozen ground. It would 
 only make one little spot soft and sloppy ; the fire would 
 soon go out : then it would freeze right up agin. Now,. 
 with you it's spring all over; you feel tender and meller- 
 like, and every thing good is ready to sprout. Well, 
 well ! if I do have to go to old Nick at last, I'm powerful 
 glad he's had this set-back in your case." 
 
 Long and earnestly did Haldane try to reason his quaint 
 friend out of his despairing views of himself. At last the 
 old man said testily, 
 
 "Now, look here ; you're too new-fledged a saint to 
 instruct a seasoned and experienced old sinner like me. 
 You don't know much about the Lord's ways yet, and I 
 know all about the devil's ways. Because you've got 
 out of his clutches (and I'm mighty glad you have) you 
 needn't make light of him, and take liberties with him as 
 if he was nobody, 'specially when Scripter calls him ' a 
 roarin' lion.' If I was as young as you be, I'd make a 
 dead set to git away from him ; but after tryin' more 
 times than you've lived years, I know it ain't no use. I 
 tell you I can't feel as you feel, any more than you cark 
 squeeze water out of them old andirons. A-a-h ! " 
 
 Haldane was silent, feeling that the old man's spiritual 
 condition was too knotty a problem for him to solve.
 
 314 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 After a few moments Mr. Growther added, in a voice 
 that he meant to be very solemn and impressive : 
 
 " But I want you to enjoy your religious feelin's all the 
 same. I will listen to all the Scripter readin' and prayin' 
 you're willin' to do, without makin' any disturbance. 
 Indeed, I think I will enjoy my wittles more, now that an 
 honest grace can be said over 'em. An' when you read 
 the Bible, you needn't read the cussin' parts, if yer don't 
 want to. I'll read 'em to myself hereafter. I'll give you 
 all the leeway that an old curmudgeon like myself kin, 
 and I expect to take a sight o' comfort in seein' you goin' 
 on your way rejoicin'." 
 
 And he did seem to take as much interest in the young 
 man's progress and new spiritual experiences as if he 
 alone were the one interested. His efforts to control his 
 irritability and profanity were both odd and pathetic, and 
 Haldane would sometimes hear him swearing softly tr 
 himself, with strange contortions of his wrinkled face- 
 -when in former times he would have vented his spite in 
 the harshest tones. 
 
 Haldane wrote fully to Mrs. Arnot of his visit to his 
 native city and its happy results, and enlarged upon his 
 changed feelings as the proof that he was a changed man. 
 
 Her reply was prompt, and was filled with the warm- 
 est congratulations and expressions of the sincerest sym- 
 pathy. It also contained these words : 
 
 " I fear that you are dwelling too largely upon your 
 feelings and experiences, and are giving to them a value 
 they do not possess. Not that I would undervalue them 
 — they are gracious tokens of God's favor ; but they are 
 not the grounds of your salvation and acceptance with 
 God." 
 
 Haldane did not believe that they were — he had been 
 too well taught for that — but he regarded them as the 
 evidences that he was accepted, that he was a Christian ; 
 and he expected them to continue, and to bear him for-
 
 HUMAN NATURE. 315 
 
 ward, and through and over the pecuHar trials of his lot, 
 as on a strong and shining tide. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot also stated that she was just on the eve of 
 leaving home for a time, and that on her return she would 
 see him and explain more fully her meaning. 
 
 In conclusion, she wrote : " I think you did what was 
 right and best in returning to Hillaton. At any rate, you 
 have reached that age when you must obey your own 
 conscience, and can no longer place the responsibility of 
 your action upon others. But, remember, that you owe 
 to your mother the most dehcate forbearance and con- 
 sideration. You should write to her regularly, and seek 
 to prove that you are guided by principle rather than im- 
 pulse. Your mother has much reason to feel as she 
 does, and nothing can excuse you from the sacred duties 
 you owe to her." 
 
 Haldane did write as Mrs. Arnot suggested. In a few^ 
 days he received the following letter from his mother : 
 
 We shall sail for Europe as soon as we can get ready for the 
 journey. Our lawyer is making all the necessary arrangements 
 for us. I will leave funds with him, and whenever you are 
 ready in good faith to accept my offer, leave Hillaton, and live 
 so that this scandal can die out, you can obtain from him the 
 means of living decently and quietly. As it is, I live in daily 
 terror lest you again do something which will bring our name 
 into the Hillaton papers; and, of course, every thing is copied 
 by the press of this city. Will the time ever come when you 
 will consider your mother's and sisters' feelings? 
 
 For a time all went as well as could be expected in the 
 trying circumstances of Haldane's life. His prayers for 
 strength and patience were at first earnest, and their an- 
 swers seemed assured — so assured, indeed, that in times 
 of haste and weariness prayer eventually came to be hur- 
 ried or neglected. Before he was aware of it, feeling be- 
 gan to ebb away. He at last became troubled, and then 
 alarmed, and made great effort to regain his old, happy
 
 316 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 emotions and experiences ; but, like an outgoing tide, 
 they eijbed steadily away. 
 
 His face indicated his disquiet and anxiety, for he felt 
 like one who was clinging to a rope that was slowly part- 
 ing, strand by strand. 
 
 Keen-eyed Mr, Growlher watched him closely, and was 
 satisfied that something was amiss. He was much con- 
 cerned, and took not a little of the blame upon himself. 
 
 " How can a man be a Christian, or any thing else 
 that's decent, when he keeps such cussed company as I 
 be? " he muttered. " I s'pose I kinder pisen and wither 
 up his good feelin's like a sulphuric acid fact'ry." 
 
 One evening he exclaimed to Haldane, " I say, young 
 man, you had better pull out o' here." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I'll give you a receipt in full and a good character, 
 and then you look for a healthier boardin'-place." 
 
 " Ah, I see ! You wish to be rid of me ? " 
 
 " No, you don't see, nuther. I wish you to be rid of 
 me." 
 
 " Of course, if you wish me to go, I'll go at once," said 
 Haldane, in a despondent tone. 
 
 '• And go off at half-cock into the bargain ? I ain't one 
 of the kind, you know, that talks around Robin Hood's 
 barn. I go straight in at the front door and out at the 
 back. It's my rough way of coming to the p'int at once. 
 I kin see that you're runnin' behind in speret'al matters, 
 and I believe that my cussedness is part to blame. You 
 don't feel good as you used to. It would never do to git 
 down at the heel in these matters, 'cause the poorest tim- 
 ber in the market is yer old backsliders. I'd rather be 
 what I am than be a backshder. The right way is to take 
 these things in time, before you git agoin' down hill too 
 fast. It isn't that I want to git rid of you at all. I've 
 kinder got used to you, and like to have you 'round 
 'mazingly ; but I don't s'pose it's possible for you to
 
 nmiAN NATURE. 317 
 
 feel right and live with me, and so you had better cut 
 stick in time, for you must keep a-feelin' good and pi'us- 
 like, my boy, or it's all up with you." 
 
 " Then you don't want me to go for the sake of your 
 own comfort ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I only want you to git inter a place 
 that isn't so morally pisened as this, where I do so much 
 cussin' ; for I will and must cuss as long as there's an 
 atom left of me as big as a head of a pin. A-a-h ! " 
 
 " Then I prefer to take my chances with you to going 
 anywhere else." 
 
 '• Think twice." 
 
 " I have thought more than twice." 
 
 "Then yer blood be on yer own head," said Mr. 
 Growther with tragic solemnity, as if he were about to take 
 Haldane's life. "My skirts is clear after this warnin'." 
 
 "Indeed they are. You haven't done me a bit of 
 harm." 
 
 "Where does the trouble come from then ? Who is 
 a-harmin' you ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Growther," said Haldane, wearily, " I 
 hardly know what is the matter. I am losing zest and 
 courage unaccountably. My old, happy and hopeful 
 feelings are about all gone, and in their place all sorts of 
 evil thoughts seem to be swarming into my mind. I have 
 tried to keep all this to myself, but I have become so 
 wretched that I must speak. Mrs. Arnot is away, or she 
 might help me, as she ever does. I wish that I felt dif- 
 ferently ; I pray that I may, but in spite of all I seem 
 drifung back to my old miserable self. Every day I fear 
 that I shall have trouble at the mill. When I felt so 
 strong and happy I did not mind what they said. One 
 day I was asked by a workman, who is quite a decent 
 fellow, how I stood it all? and I replied that I stood it as 
 any well-meaning Christian man could. My impHed as- 
 sertion that I was a Christian was taken up as a great
 
 318 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 joke, and now they call me the ' pi'us jail-bird.* As long 
 as I felt at heart that I was a Christian, 1 did not care ; 
 but now their words gall me to the quick. I do not know 
 what to think. It seems to me that if any one ever met 
 -with a change I did. I'm sure I wish to feel now as I did 
 then ; but I grow worse every day. I am losing self-con- 
 trol and growing irritable. This evening, as I passed 
 liquor saloons on my way home, my old appetite for drink 
 seemed as strong as ever. What does it all mean ?" 
 
 Mr. Growther's wrinkled visage worked curiously, and 
 at last he said in a tone and manner that betokened the 
 deepest distress : 
 
 " I'm awfully afeered you're a-backslidin'." 
 
 " I wish I had never been born," exclaimed the youth, 
 passionately, "for I am a curse to myself and all con- 
 nected with me. I know I shall have trouble with one 
 man at the mill. I can see it coming, and then, of course, 
 I shall be discharged. I seem destined to defeat in this 
 my last attempt to be a man, and I shall never have the 
 courage or hope to try again. If I do break down utterly, 
 I feel as if I will become a very devil incarnate. O ! 
 how I wish that Mrs. Arnot was home." 
 
 " Now this beats me all out," said Mr. Growther, in 
 great perplexity. " A while ago you felt like a saint and 
 acted like one, now you talk and act as if Old Nick and 
 all his imps had got a hold on ye. How do you explain 
 all this, for it beats me ? " 
 
 " I don't and can't explain. But here are the facts, 
 and what are you going to do with them? " 
 
 " I ain't a-goin' to do nothin' with 'em except cuss 
 *em ; and that's all I kin do in any case. You've got 
 •beyond my depth." 
 
 The sorely tempted youth could obtain but little aid and 
 comfort, therefore, from his quaint old friend, and, equally 
 perplexed and unable to understand himself, he sought 
 to obtain such rest as his disquieted condition permitted.
 
 HUMAN NATURE. 319 
 
 As a result of wakefulness in the early part of the 
 night, he slept late the following morning, and hastened 
 to his work with scarcely a mouthful of breakfast. He 
 was thus disqualified, physically as well as mentally, for 
 the ordeal of the day. 
 
 He was a few minutes behind time, and a sharp repri- 
 mand from the foreman rasped his already jangling nerves. 
 But he doggedly set his teeth and resolved to see and hear 
 nothing save that which pertained to his work. 
 
 He might have kept his resolve had there been noth- 
 ing more to contend with than the ordinary verbal per- 
 secution. But late in the afternoon, when he had grown 
 weary from the strain of the day, his special tormentor, a 
 burly Irishman, took occasion, in passing, to push him 
 rudely against a pert and slattern girl, who also was fore- 
 most in the tacit league of petty annoyance. She acted 
 as if the contact of Haldane's person was a purposed in- 
 sult, and resented it by a sharp slap of his face. 
 
 Her stinging stroke was like a spark to a magazine ; 
 but paying no heed to her, he sprang toward her laugh- 
 ing ally with fierce oaths upon his lips, and by a single 
 blow sent him reeling to the floor. The machinery was 
 stopped sharply, as far as possible, by the miscellaneous 
 work-people, to whom a fight was a boon above price, 
 and with shrill and clamorous outcries they gathered 
 round the young man where he stood, panting, like a 
 wounded animal at bay. 
 
 His powerful antagonist was speedily upon his feet, 
 and at once made a rush for the youth who had so un- 
 expectedly turned upon him ; and though he received 
 another heavy blow, his onset was so strong that he was 
 able to close with Haldane, and thus made the conflict a 
 mere trial of brute force. 
 
 As Haldane afterward recalled the scene, he was con- 
 scious that at the time he felt only rage, and a mad de- 
 sire to destroy his opponent.
 
 320 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 In strength they were quite evenly matched, and after 
 a moment's struggle both fell heavily, and Haldane was 
 able to disengage himself. As the Irishman rose, and 
 was about to renew the fight, he struck him so tremen- 
 dous a blow on the temple that the man went to the floor 
 as if pierced by a bullet, and lay there stunned and still. 
 
 When Haldane saw that his antagonist did not move, 
 time was given him to think ; he experienced a terrible 
 revulsion. He remembered his profanity and brutal rage, 
 he felt that he had broken down utterly. He was over- 
 whelmed by his moral defeat, and covering his face with 
 his hands, he groaned " Lost, lost ! " 
 
 " By jocks," exclaimed a rude, half-grown fellow, 
 •' that clip would have felled an ox." 
 
 "Do you think he's dead?" asked the slattern girl, 
 now thoroughly alarmed at the consequences of the blow 
 she had given. 
 
 "Dead!" cried Haldane, catching the word, and, 
 pushing all aside, he knelt over his prostrate foe. 
 
 " Water, bring water, for God's sake ! " he said eagerly, 
 lifting up the unconscious man. 
 
 It was brought and dashed in his face. A moment 
 later, to Haldane's infinite relief he revived, and after a 
 bewildered stare at the crowd around him, fixed his eyes 
 on the youth who had dealt the blow, and then a con- 
 sciousness of all that had occurred seemed to return. 
 He showed his teeth in impotent rage for a moment, as 
 some wild animal might have done, and then rose un- 
 steadily to his feet. 
 
 "Go back to your work, all on ye," thundered the 
 foreman, who, now that the sport was over, was bent on 
 making a great show of his zeal ; " as for you two bull- 
 dogs, you shall pay dearly for this ; and let me say to 
 you, Mister Haldane, that the pious dodge won't answer 
 any longer." 
 
 A moment later, with the exception of flushed faces
 
 HUMAN NATURE. 321 
 
 and excited whisperings, the large and crowded apart- 
 ment wore its ordinary aspect, and the machinery clanked 
 on as monotonously as ever. 
 
 Almost as mechanically Haldane moved in the routine 
 of his labor, but the bitterness of despair was in his heart. 
 
 He forgot that he would probably be discharged that 
 day ; he forgot that a dark and uncertain future was be- 
 fore him. He only remembered his rage and profanity, 
 and they seemed to him damning proofs that all he had 
 felt, hoped, and believed was delusion.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 MRS. ARNOT'S creed. 
 
 When Haldane entered the cottage that evening his 
 eyes were blood-shot and his face so haggard that Mr. 
 Grovvther started out of his chair, exclaiming, 
 
 •' Lord a' massy ! what's the matter? " 
 
 " Matter enough," replied the youth, with a reckless 
 oath. "The worst that I feared has happened." 
 
 " What's happened ? " asked the old man excitedly. 
 
 " I've been fighting in the work-room like a bull-dog, 
 and swearing like a pirate. That's the kind of a Chris- 
 tian I am, and always will be. What I was made for, I 
 don't see," he added, as he threw himself into a chair. 
 
 "Well, well, well!" said Mr. Growther dejectedly; 
 " I was in hopes she'd git here in time ; but I'm afeered 
 you've just clean backslid." 
 
 " No kind of doubt on that score," replied the young 
 man, with a bitter laugh ; " though I now think I never 
 had very far to slide. And yet it all seems wrong and 
 unjust. Why should my hopes be raised ? why should 
 such feelings be inspired, if this was to be the end ? If I 
 was foreordained to go to the devil, why must an aggra- 
 vating glimpse of heaven be given me? I say it's all 
 cruel and wrong. But what's the use ! Come, let's have 
 supper, one must eat as long as he's in the body." 
 
 It was a silent and dismal meal, and soon over. Then 
 Haldane took his hat without a word. 
 
 "Where are you goin' ? " asked Mr. Growther, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " I neither know nor care." 
 
 " Don't go out to-night, I expect somebody." 
 
 322
 
 MRS. AENOrS CREED. 323 
 
 ••Who, in the name of wonder?" 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot." 
 
 " I could as easily face an angel of light now as Mrs. 
 Arnot," he replied, pausing on the threshold; for even 
 in his reckless mood the old man's wistful face had power 
 to restrain. 
 
 "You are mistaken, Egbert," said a gentle voice be- 
 hind him. "You can face me much more easily than an 
 angel of hght. I am human like yourself, and your 
 friend." 
 
 She had approached the open door through the dusk 
 of the mild autumn evening, and had heard his words. 
 He trembled at her voice, but ventured no reply. 
 
 " I have come to see you, Egbert ; you will not leave 
 me." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot," he said passionately, " I am not worth 
 the trouble you take in my behalf, and I might as well 
 tell you at once that it is in vain." 
 
 " I do not regard what I do for you as ' trouble,' and I 
 know it is not in vain," she replied, with calm, clear em- 
 phasis. 
 
 Her manner quieted him somewhat ; but after a mo- 
 ment he said, 
 
 " You do not know what has happened to-day, nor how 
 I have been feeling for many days past." 
 
 "Your manner indicates how you feel; and you may 
 tell me what has happened if you wish. If you prefer 
 that we should be alone, come with me to my carriage, 
 and in the quiet of my private parlor you can tell me all." 
 
 " No," said Haldane gloomily ; " I am not fit to enter 
 your house, and for other reasons would rather not do 
 so. I have no better friend than Mr. Growther. and he 
 already knows it all. I may as well tell you here ; that 
 is, if you are willing to stay." 
 
 " I came to stay," said Mrs. Arnot quietly ; and sitting 
 down, she turned a grave and expectant face toward him.
 
 324 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " I cannot find words in which to tell you my shame, 
 and the utterness of my defeat." 
 
 " Yes, you can, Egbert. I believe that you have al- 
 ways told me the truth about yourself." 
 
 " I have, and I will again," he said desperately ; " and 
 yet it seems like profanation to describe such a scene to 
 you." But he did describe it, briefly and graphically, 
 nevertheless. As he spoke of his last fierce blow, which 
 vanquished his opponent, Mr. Grovvther muttered, 
 
 " Sarved him right ; can't help feelin' glad you hit 'im 
 so hard ; but then that's in keepin' with the cussedness 
 of my natur'." 
 
 A glimmer of a smile hovered around Mrs. Arnot's 
 flexible mouth, but she only asked quietly, 
 
 " Is that all?" 
 
 " I should think that was enough, after all that I had 
 felt and professed." 
 
 " I fear I shall shock you, Egbert, but I am not very 
 much surprised at your course. Indeed I think it was 
 quite natural, in view of the circumstances. Perhaps my 
 nature is akin to Mr. Growther's, for I am rather glad 
 that fellow was punished ; and I think it was very natural 
 for you to punish him as you did. So far from despair- 
 ing of you, I am the more hopeful of you." 
 
 "Mrs. Arnot ! " exclaimed the youth in undisguised 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Now do not jump to hasty and false conclusions from 
 my words; I do not say that your action was right. In 
 the abstract it was decidedly wrong, and for your lan- 
 guage there is no other excuse save that an old, bad 
 habit asserted itself at a time when you had lost self-con- 
 trol. I am dealing leniently with you, Egbert, because 
 it is a trick of the adversary to tempt to despair as well 
 as to over-confidence. At the same time I speak sin- 
 cerely. You are and have been for some time in a mor- 
 bid state of mind. Let my simple common-sense come
 
 3IES. ARNOrS CREED. 325 
 
 to your aid in this emergency. The very conditions un- 
 der which you have been working at the mill imposed a 
 continuous strain upon your nervous power. You were 
 steadily approaching a point where mere human en- 
 durance would give way. Mark, 1 do not say that you 
 might not have been helped to endure longer, and to en- 
 dure every thing ; but mere human nature could not have 
 endured it much longer. It is often wiser to shun certain 
 temptations, if we can, than to meet them. You could 
 not do this ; and if, taking into account all the circum- 
 stances, you could have tamely submitted to this insult, 
 which was the culmination of long-continued and exas- 
 perating injury, I should have doubted whether you pos- 
 sessed the material to make a strong, forceful man. Of 
 course, if you often give way to passion in this manner, 
 you would be little better than a wild beast ; but for 
 weeks you had exercised very great forbearance and self- 
 control — for one of your temperament, remarkable self- 
 control — and I respect you for it. We are as truly bound 
 to be just to ourselves as to others. Your action was 
 certainly wrong, and I would be deeply grieved and dis- 
 appointed if you continued to give way to such ebulli- 
 tions of passion ; but remembering your youth, and all 
 that has happened since spring, and observing plainly 
 that you are in an unhealthful condition of mind and body, 
 I think your course was very natural indeed, and that 
 you have no occasion for such despondency." 
 
 "Yes," put in Mr. Growther ; "and he went away 
 without his breakfast, and it was mighty little he took for 
 lunch ; all men are savages when they haven't eaten any 
 thing." 
 
 "Pardon me, Mrs. Arnot," said Haldane gloomily, 
 "all this does not meet the case at all. I had been 
 hoping that I was a Christian ; what is more, it seems to 
 me that I had had the feelings and experiences of a 
 Christian."
 
 326 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 " I have nothing to say against that," said the lady 
 quietly ; " I am very glad that you had." 
 
 "After what has occurred what right have I to think 
 myself a Christian ? " 
 
 " As good a right as multitudes of others." 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Arnot, that seems to me to be contrary to 
 reason." 
 
 " It is not contrary to fact. Good people in the Bible, 
 good people in history, and to my personal knowledge, 
 too, have been left to do outrageously wrong things. To 
 err is human ; and we are all very human, Egbert." 
 
 " But I don't feel that I am a Christian any longer," 
 he said sadly. 
 
 " Perhaps you are not, and never were. But this is a 
 question that you can never settle by consulting your 
 own feelings." 
 
 " Then how can I settle it? " was the eager response. 
 
 '• By settling fully and finally in your mind what rela- 
 tion you will sustain to Jesus Christ. He offers to be your 
 complete Saviour from sin. Will you accept of Him as 
 such ? He offers to be your divine and unerring guide 
 and example in your every-day life. Will you accept of 
 Him as such ? Doing these two things in simple honesty 
 and to the best of our ability is the only way to be a 
 Christian that I know of." 
 
 '• Is that all ? " muttered Mr. Growther, rising for a mo- 
 ment from his chair in his deep interest in her words. 
 She gave him an encouraging smile, and then turned to 
 Haldane again. 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot," he said, " I know that you are far 
 wiser in these matters than I, and yet I am bewildered. 
 The Bible says we must be converted ; that we must be 
 born again. It seems to require some great, mysterious 
 change that shall renew our whole nature. And it 
 seemed to me that I experienced that change. It would 
 be impossible for me to describe to you my emotions.
 
 3IES. ARXOT'S CREED. 327 
 
 They were sincere and profound. They stirred the very 
 depths of my soul, and under their influcRce it was a joy 
 to worship God and to do His will. Had I not a right to 
 beheve that the hour in which I first felt those glad thrills 
 of faith and love was the hour of my conversion ? " 
 
 " You had a right to hope it." 
 
 " But now, to-day, when every bad passion has been 
 uppermost in my heart, what reason have I to hope ? " 
 
 " None at all, looking to yourself and to your varying 
 emotions." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot, I am bewildered. I am all at sea. The 
 Bible, as interpreted by Dr. Barstow and Dr. Marks, 
 seems to require so much ; and what you say is required 
 is simplicity itself." 
 
 " If you will listen patiently, Egbert, I will give you 
 my views, and I think they are correct, for I endeavor to 
 take them wholly from the Bible. That which God re- 
 quires is simplicity itself, and yet it is very much ; it is 
 infinite. In the first place, one must give up self- 
 righteousness — not self-respect, mark you — but mere 
 spiritual self-conceit, which is akin to the feeling of some 
 vulgar people who think they are good enough to asso- 
 ciate with those who are immeasurably beyond them, 
 but whose superiority they are too small to comprehend. 
 We must come to God in the spirit of a little child ; anr* 
 then, as if we were children, He will give to us a natum 
 and healthful growth in the life that resembles His own. 
 This is the simplest thing that can be done, and all can 
 do it ; but how many are trying to work out their salva- 
 tion by some intricate method of human device, and, 
 stranger still, are very complacent over the mechanical 
 and abnormal results ! All such futile efforts, of which 
 many are so vain, must be cast aside. Listen to Christ's 
 own words : ' Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in 
 heart.' He who would enter upon the Christian life, 
 must come to Christ as the true scientist sits at the feet
 
 328 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 of nature— docile, teachable, eager to learn truth that ex- 
 isted long before he was born, and not disposed to thrust 
 forward some miserable little system of his own. Noth- 
 ing could be simpler, easier, or more pleasing to Christ 
 Himself than the action of Mary as she sat at His feet 
 and listened to Him ; but many are like Martha, and are 
 bustling about in His service in ways pleasing to them- 
 selves ; and it is very hard for them to give up their own 
 way. I've had to give up a great deal in my time, and 
 perhaps you will. 
 
 " In addition to all trust in ourselves, in what we are 
 and what we have done, we must turn away from what we 
 have felt ; and here I think I touch your present diffi- 
 culties. We are not saved by the emotions of our own 
 hearts, however sacred and delightful they may seem. 
 Nor do they always indicate just what we are and shall 
 be. A few weeks since you thought your heart had be- 
 come the abiding-place of all that was good ; now, it 
 seems to you to be possessed by evil. This is common 
 experience ; at one time the Psalmist sings in rapturous 
 devotion ; again, he is wailing in penitence over one of 
 the blackest crimes in history. Peter is on the Mount of 
 Transfiguration ; again, he is denying his master with 
 oaths and curses. Even good men vary as widely as 
 this ; but Christ is ' the same, yesterday, to-day, and 
 forever.' By good men I mean simply those who are 
 sincerely wishing and trying to obtain mastery over the 
 evil of their natures. If you still wish to do this, I have 
 abundant hope for you, — as much hope as ever I had." 
 
 " Of what value, then, were all those strange, happy 
 feehngs which I regarded as the proofs of my con- 
 version?" Haldane asked, with the look of deep per- 
 plexity still upon his face. 
 
 " Of very great value, if you look upon them in their 
 true light. They were evidences of God's love and 
 favor. They showed how kindly disposed He is toward
 
 MES. ARNOT'S CREED. 329 
 
 you. They can prove to you how abundantly able He 
 is to reward all trust and service, giving foretastes of 
 heavenly bliss even in the midst of earthly warfare. The 
 trouble has been with you, as with so many others, that 
 you have been consulting your variable emotions instead 
 of looking simply to Christ, the author and finisher of our 
 faith. Besides, the power is not given to us to maintain 
 an equable flow of feeUng for any considerable length of 
 time. We react from exaltation into depression inevitably. 
 Our feelings depend largely also upon earthly causes and 
 our physical condition, and we can never be absolutely 
 sure how far they are the result of the direct action of 
 God's Spirit upon our minds. It is God's plan to work 
 through simple, natural means, so that we may not be 
 looking and waiting for the supernatural. And yet it 
 would seem that many are so irrational that, when they 
 find mere feeling passing away, they give up their hope 
 and all relationship to Christ, acting as if the immutable 
 love of God were changing with their flickering emotions." 
 
 " I have been just so irrational," said Haldane in a 
 low, deep tone. 
 
 " Then settle it now and forever, my dear young friend, 
 that Jesus Christ, who died to save you, wishes to save 
 you every day and all the days of your life. He does 
 not change a hair's breadth from the attitude indicated 
 in the words, ' Come unto IMe ; and whosoever cometh 
 unto Me I will in no wise cast out.' " 
 
 " Do you mean to say He feels that way toward me all 
 the time, in spite of all my cantankerous moods? " asked 
 Mr. Growther eagerly, 
 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 " I wouldn't a' thought it if I'd lived a thousand years.' 
 
 "What, then, is conversion?" asked Haldane, fee ^ 
 ing as if he were being led safely out of a labyrinth ii* 
 which he had lost himself. 
 
 " In my view it is simply turning away from ever;-
 
 330 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 thing to Christ as the sole ground of our salvation and as 
 our divine guide and example in Christian living." 
 
 " But how can we ever know that we are Christians?" 
 
 " Only by the honest, patient, continued effort to obey 
 His brief command, ' Follow Me.' We may follow near, 
 or we may follow afar off ; but we can soon learn whether 
 we wish to get nearer to Him, or to get away from Him, 
 or to just indifferently let Him drop out of our thoughts. 
 The Christian is one who holds and maintains certain 
 simple relations to Christ. ' Ye are My friends,' He said, 
 not if you feel thus and so, but, ' if ye do whatsoever I 
 command you ; ' and I have found from many years' ex- 
 perience that ' His commandments are not grievous.* 
 For every burden He imposes He gives help and comfort 
 a hundred times. The more closely and faithfully we 
 follow Him, the more surely do fear and doubt pass 
 away. We learn to look up to Him as a child looks in 
 its mother's face, and ' His Spirit beareth witness with 
 our spirit that we are His.' But the vital point is, are we 
 following Him? Feeling varies so widely and strangely 
 in varied circumstances and \vith different temperaments 
 that many a true saint of God would be left in cruel un- 
 certainty if this were the test. My creed is a very simple 
 one, Egbert ; but I take a world of comfort in it. It con- 
 tains only three words — Trust, follow Christ — that is all." 
 
 " It is so simple and plain that I am tempted to take it 
 as my creed also," said Haldane, with a tinge of hope 
 and enthusiasm in his manner. 
 
 "And yet remember," warned his friend earnestly, 
 *' there is infinite requirement in it. A child can make a 
 rude sketch of a perfect statue that will bear some faint 
 resemblance to it. If he perseveres he can gradually 
 learn to draw the statue with increasing accuracy. In 
 taking this Divine Man as your example, you pledge 
 yourself to imitate One whom you can ever approach but 
 never reach. And yet there is no occasion for the weak-
 
 MRS. A KNOT'S CREED. 331 
 
 est to falter before this infinite requirement, for God Him- 
 self in spirit is present everywhere to aid all in regaining 
 the lost image of Himself, It is to no lonely unguided 
 effort that I urge you, Egbert, but to a patient co-work- 
 ing with your Maker, that you may attain a character 
 that will fit you to dwell at last in your kingly Father's 
 house ; and I tell you frankly, for your encouragement, 
 that you are capable of forming such a character. I will 
 now bid you good night, and leave you to think over 
 what I have said. But write to me or come to me when- 
 ever you wish. 
 
 "Goodnight, Mr. Growther ; hate yourself if you will, 
 but remember that the Bible assures us that ' God is 
 love ; ' you cannot hate Him."
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE LEVER THAT MOVES THE WORLD. 
 
 The power of truth can scarcely be overestimated, and 
 the mind that earnestly seeks it becomes noble in its noble 
 quest. If this can be said of truth in the abstract, and in 
 its humbler manifestations, how omnipotent truth becomes 
 in its grandest culmination and embodied in a being capa- 
 ble of inspiring our profoundest fear and deepest love. 
 One may accept of religious forms and philosophies, and 
 be little changed thereby. One may be perfectly satu- 
 rated with ecclesiasticism, and still continue a small-na- 
 tured man. But the man that accepts of Jesus Christ as 
 a personal and living teacher, as did the fishermen of 
 Galilee, that man begins to grow large and noble, brave 
 and patient. 
 
 Egbert Haldane has been sketched as an ordinary 
 youth. There are thousands like him who have been 
 warped and marred by early influences, but more seri- 
 ously injured by a personal and willful yielding to what- 
 ever form of evil proved attractive. The majority are 
 not so unwary or so unfortunate as he was ; but multi- 
 tudes, for whom society has comparatively little criticism, 
 are more vitiated at heart, more cold-blooded and deliber- 
 ate in their evil. One may form a base character, but 
 maintain an outward respectability ; but let him not be 
 very complacent over the decorous and conventional 
 veneer which masks him from the world. If one imag- 
 ines that he can corrupt his own soul and make it the 
 abiding-place of foul thoughts, mean impulses, and 
 shriveling selfishness, and yet go forward very far in 
 
 332
 
 THE LEVER THAT MOVES THE WORLD. 333 
 
 God's universe without meeting overwhelming disaster, 
 he will find himself thoroughly mistaken. 
 
 The sin of another man finds him out in swift sequence 
 upon its committal, and such had been Haldane's expe- 
 rience. He had been taught promptly the nature of the 
 harvest which evil produces inevitably. 
 
 The terrible consequences of sin prevent and deter 
 from it in many instances, but they have no very great 
 reformatory power it would seem. Multitudes to-day are 
 in extremis from destroying vices, and recognize the fact ; 
 but so far from reacting upward into virtue, even after vice 
 (save in the intent of the heart) has ceased to be possible, 
 there seems to be a moral inertia which nothing moves, 
 or a reckless and increasing impetus downward. 
 
 It would appear that, in order to save the sinful, a 
 strong, and yet gentle and loving, hand must be laid 
 upon them. The stern grasp of justice, the grip of pain, 
 law — human and divine — with its severe penalties, and 
 conscience re-echoing its thunders, all lead too often to 
 despondency, recklessness, and despair. It would be 
 difficult to imagine a worse hell than vice often digs for 
 its votaries, even in this world ; and in spite of all hu- 
 man philosophies, and human wishes to the contrary, it 
 remains a fact that the guilty soul trembles at a worse 
 hereafter, and yet no sufferings, no fears, no fate can so 
 appall as to turn the soul from its infatuation with that 
 which is destroying it. More potent than commands, 
 threats, and their dire fulfillment, is love, which wins 
 and entreats back to virtue the man whom even Omnip- 
 otence could not drive back. 
 
 In the flood God overwhelmed the sinful world in sud- 
 den destruction, but the race continued sinning all the 
 same. At last God came among men, and shared in 
 their lot and nature. He taught them, He sympathized 
 with them. He loved them. He died for them, and when 
 the wondrous story is told as it should be, the most reck-
 
 334 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 less pause to listen, the most callous are touched, and 
 those who would otherwise despair in their guilt are led 
 to believe that there is a heart large and tender enough 
 to pity and save even such as the world is ready to spurn 
 into a dishonored grave. 
 
 The love of God as manifested in Christ of Nazareth 
 is doing more for humanity than all other influences 
 combined. The best and noblest elements of our civili- 
 zation can be traced either directly or indirectly to Him, 
 and shadows brood, heavily over both the lands and 
 hearts that neither know nor care for Him. 
 
 It would seem, then, that not the wrath of God, but 
 His love, is most effective in separating men from the 
 •evil which w^ould otherwise destroy them. God could 
 best manifest this love by becoming a man "made like 
 unto His brethren ;" for the love of God is ever best 
 taught and best understood, not as a doctrine, but when 
 embodied in some large-hearted and ChristUke person. 
 
 Such a person most emphatically was Mrs, Arnot, and 
 because of these divine characteristics her gentle, wom- 
 anly hand became more potent to save young Haldane 
 than were all the powers of evil and the downward im- 
 petus of a bad life to destroy. 
 
 How very many, like him, might be saved, were 
 more women of tact and culture, large-hearted also 
 and walling to give a part of their time to such noble 
 uses ! 
 
 By a personal and human ministry, the method that 
 has ever been most effective in God's providence, Hal- 
 dane was at last brought into close, intimate relations 
 ■with the Divine Teacher Himself. He was led to look 
 away from his own fitful emotions and vague experiences 
 to One who was his strong and unchanging friend. He 
 was led to take as his daily guide and teacher the One 
 who developed Peter the fisherman, Paul the bigot, 
 Luther the ignorant monk, into what they eventually be-
 
 THE LEVER THAT MOVES THE WORLD. 335 
 
 came, and it was not strange, therefore, that his crude, 
 misshapen character should gradually assume the out- 
 hnes of moral symmetry, and that strength should take 
 the place of weakness. He commenced to learn by ex- 
 perience the truth which many never half believe that 
 God is as willing to lovingly fashion the spiritual life of 
 some humble follower, as He is to shape the destiny of 
 those who are to be famous in the annals of the church 
 and the world. 
 
 To Haldane's surprise he was not discharged from his 
 humble position in Mr. Ivison's employ, and the expla- 
 nation, which soon afterward appeared, gave him great 
 encouragement. The man whom he had so severely 
 punished in his outburst of passion, vented his spite by 
 giving to the Morning Courier an exaggerated and dis- 
 torted account of the affair, in which the youth was made 
 to exchange places with himself, and appear as a coarse, 
 quarrelsome bully. 
 
 When Haldane's attendon was called to the paragraph 
 his face flushed with indignation as he read it ; but he 
 threw the paper down and went to his w'ork without a 
 word of comment. He had already about despaired of 
 any thing like justice or friendly recognition from the 
 public, and he turned from this additional wrong with a 
 feeling not far removed from indifference. He was learn- 
 ing the value of Mrs. Arnot's suggestion, that a con- 
 sciousness of one's own integrity can do more to sustain 
 than the world's opinion, and her words on the previous 
 evening had taught him how a companionship, and 
 eventually a character, might be won that could com- 
 pensate him for all that he had lost or might suffer. 
 
 His persecutor was, therefore, disappointed in seeing 
 how litde annoyance his spite occasioned, nor was his 
 equanimity increased by a message from Mr. Ivison or- 
 dering his instant discharge. 
 
 The following morning the foreman of the room in
 
 336 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 which Haldane worked came to him with quite a show 
 of friendhness, and said : 
 
 " It seems ye're in luck, for the boss takes an interest 
 in ye. Read that; I wouldn't a' thought it." 
 
 Hope sprang up anew in the young man's breast as he 
 read the following words : 
 
 Editor Courier. — Dear Sir : — You will doubtless give space 
 for this correction in regard to the fracas which took place in 
 my factory a day or two since. You, with all right-minded 
 men, surely desire that no injustice should be done to any one 
 in any circumstances. Very great injustice was done to young 
 Haldane in your issue of to-day. I have taken pains to inform 
 myself accurately, and have learned that he patiently submitted 
 to a petty persecution for a long time, and at last gave way to 
 natural anger under a provocation such as no man of spirit 
 could endure. His tormentor, a coarse, ill-conditioned fellow, 
 was justly punished, and I have discharged him from my em- 
 ploy. I have nothing to offer in extenuation of young Haldane's 
 past faults, and, if I remember correctly, the press of the city 
 has always been fully as severe upon him as the occasion de- 
 manded. If any further space is given to his fortunes, justice 
 at least, not to say a little encouraging kindness, should be 
 accorded to him, as well as severity. It should be stated that 
 for weeks he has been trying to earn an honest livelihood, and 
 in a situation peculiarly trying to him. I have been told that 
 he sincerely wishes to reform and live a cleanly and decent life, 
 and I have obtained evidence that satisfies me of the truth of 
 this report. It appears to me that it is as mean a thing for news- 
 papers to strike a man who is down, but who is endeavoring to 
 rise again, as it is for an individual to do so, and I am sure that 
 you will not consciously permit your journal to give any such 
 sinister blow. Respectfully yours, 
 
 John Ivison. 
 
 In editorial comment came the following brief remark : 
 
 We gladly give Mr. Ivison's communication a prominent 
 place. It is not our intention to " strike " any one, but merely 
 to record each day's events as they come to us. With the best 
 intentions mistakes are sometimes made. We have no possible 
 motive for not wishing young Haldane well — we do wish him 
 success in achieving a better future than his past actions have 
 led us to expect. The city would be much better off if all of his 
 class were equally ready to go to work.
 
 THE LEVER THAT 310 VES THE WORLD. 337 
 
 Here at least was some recognition. The fact that he 
 was working, and willing to work, had been plainly stated, 
 and this fact is an essential foundation-stone in the build- 
 ing up of a reputation, which the world will respect. 
 
 Although the discharge of the leading persecutor, and 
 Mr. Ivison's letter, did not add to Haldane's popularity 
 at the mill, they led to his being severely let alone at 
 first, and an increasingly frank and affable manner on 
 the part of the young man, as he gained in patience and 
 serenity, gradually disarmed those who were not vindictive 
 and blind from prejudice. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Haldane seemed destined to be her son's 
 evil genius to the end. When people take a false view 
 of life there seems a fatality in all their actions. The 
 very fact that they are not in accord with what is right 
 and true causes the most important steps of their lives to 
 appear ill-timed, injudicious, and unnatural. That they 
 are well-meaning and sincere does not help matters much, 
 if both tact and sound principles are wanting. Mrs. 
 Haldane belonged to the class that are sure that every 
 thing is right which seems right to them. True, it was 
 a queer little jumble of religious prejudices and con- 
 ventional notions that combined to produce her con- 
 clusions ; but when once they were reached, no matter 
 how absurd or defective they appeared to others, she had 
 no more doubt of them than of the Copernican system. 
 
 Her motherly feelings had made her willing to take 
 her son to some hiding-place in Europe ; but since that 
 could not be, and perhaps was not best, she had thor- 
 oughly settled it in her mind that he should accept of her 
 offer and live at her expense the undemonstrative life of 
 an oyster in the social and moral ooze of the obscurest 
 mud-bank he could find. In this way the terrible world 
 might be led to eventually leave off talking and 
 thinking of the Haldane family — a consummation that 
 appeared to her worth any sacrifice. When the morn-
 
 338 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ing paper brought another vile story (copied fror:* 
 the Hillaton Courier) of her son's misdoings, her adverse 
 view of his plans and character was confirmed beyond 
 the shadow of a doubt. She felt that there was a fatality 
 about the place and its associations for him, and her one 
 hope was to get him away. 
 
 She cut the article from the paper, and inclosed it to 
 him with the accompanying note : 
 
 We go to New York this afternoon, and sail for Europe to- 
 morrow. You send us in parting a characteristic souvenir, 
 which I return to you. The scenes and associations indicated 
 in this disgraceful paragraph seem more to your taste than those 
 which your family have hitherto enjoyed as their right for many 
 generations. While this remains true, you, of necessity, cut 
 yourself off from your kindred, and we, who are most closely 
 connected, must remain where our names cannot be associated 
 with yours. I still cherish the hope, however, that you may 
 find the way of the transgressor so hard that you will be brought 
 by your bitter experience to accept of my offer and give the 
 world a chance to forget your folly and wickedness. When you 
 will do this in good faith (and my lawyer will see that it -is 
 done in good faith), you may draw on him for the means of a 
 comfortable support. 
 
 In bitter shame and sorrow, your mother, 
 
 Emily Haldane. 
 
 This letter was a severe blow to her son for it contained 
 the last words of the mother that he might not see for 
 years. While he felt it to be cruelly unjust to him and 
 his present aims, he was calm enough now to see that the 
 distorted paragraph which led to it fitted in only too well 
 with the past, and so had the coloring of truth. When 
 incHned to blame his mother for not waiting for his ver- 
 sions of these miserable events and accepting of them 
 alone, he was compelled to remember that she was in 
 part awakened from her blind idolatry of him by the dis- 
 covery of his efforts to deceive her in regard to his in- 
 creasing dissipation. Even before he had entered Mr. 
 Arnot's counting-room he had taught her to doubt his
 
 THE LEVER THAT MOVES THE WORLD. 339 
 
 ■word, and now she had evidently lost confidence in him 
 utterly. He foresaw that this confidence could be re- 
 gained only by years of patient well-doing, and that she 
 might incline to believe in him more slowly even than 
 comparative strangers. But he was not disposed to be 
 very angry and resentful, for he now had but little con- 
 fidence in himself. He had been led, however, by his 
 bitter experience and by Mrs. Arnot's faithful ministry to 
 adopt that lady's brief but comprehensive creed. He 
 was learning to trust in Christ as an all-powerful and 
 personal friend ; he was daily seeking to grasp the prin- 
 ■ciples which Christ taught, but more clearly acted out, 
 and which are essential to the formation of a noble char- 
 acter. He had thus complied with the best conditions of 
 spiritual growth ; and the crude elements of his character, 
 which had been rendered more chaotic by evil, slowly be- 
 gan to shape themselves into the symmetry of a true man. 
 
 In regard to his mother's letter, all that he could do 
 was to inclose to her, with the request that it be for- 
 warded, Mr. Ivison's defense of him, which appeared in 
 the Courier oi the following morning. 
 
 " You perceive," he wrote, " that a stranger has taken 
 pains to inform himself correctly in regard to the facts 
 of the case, and that he has for me some charity and hope. 
 T do not excuse the wrong of my action on that occasion 
 or on any other, but I do wish, and I am trying, to do 
 better, and I hope to prove the same to you by years of 
 patient effort. I may fail miserably, however, as you 
 evidently believe. The fact that my folly and wicked- 
 ness have driven you and my sisters into exile, is a very 
 great sorrow to me, but compliance with your request 
 that I should leave Hillaton and go into hiding would 
 bring no remedy at all. I know that I should do worse 
 anywhere else, and my self-respect and conscience both 
 require that I should fight the battle of my life out here 
 where I have suffered such disgraceful defeat."
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 MR. GROWTHER "STUMPED." 
 
 About three weeks after the occasion upon which 
 Haldane's human nature had manifested itself in such a 
 disastrous manner as he had supposed, Mrs. Arnot, Dr. 
 Barstow, and Mr. Ivison happened to find themselves to- 
 gether at an evening company. 
 
 " I have been wishing to thank you, Mr. Ivison," said 
 the lady, "for your just and manly letter in regard to- 
 young Haldane. I think it encouraged him very much, 
 and has given him more hopefulness in his work. How 
 has he been doing of late ? The only reply he makes to- 
 my questioning is, ' I am plodding on.' " 
 
 "Do you know," said Mr. Ivison, "I am beginning 
 to take quite an interest in that young fellow. He has 
 genuine pluck. You cannot understand, Mrs. Arnot, 
 what an ordeal he has passed through. He is naturally 
 as mettlesome as a young colt, and yet day after day he 
 was subjected to words and actions that were to him hke 
 the cut of a whip." 
 
 "Mr. Ivison," said Mrs. Arnot, with a sudden 
 moisture coming into her eyes, " I have long felt the 
 deepest interest in this young man. In judging any one 
 I try to consider not only what he does, but all the cir- 
 cumstances attending upon his action. Knowing Hal- 
 dane's antecedents, and how peculiarly unfitted he was 
 by early life and training for his present trials, I think 
 his course since he was last released from prison has been 
 very brave," and she gave a brief sketch of his life and 
 mental states, as far as a delicate regard for his feelings 
 permitted, from that date. 
 
 340
 
 3IE. GROWTHER '' STU3IPED.'' 341 
 
 Dr. Barstovv, in his turn, also became interested in the 
 youth, not only for his own sake, but also in the workings 
 of his mind and his spiritual experiences. It was the good 
 doctor's tendency to analyze every thing and place all 
 psychological manifestations under their proper theolog- 
 ical heads. 
 
 " I feel that I indirectly owe this youth a large debt of 
 gratitude, since his coming to our church and his repulse, 
 in the first instance, has led to decided changes for the 
 better in us all, I trust. But his experience, as you have 
 related it, raises some perplexing questions. Do you 
 think he is a Christian ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I think he is," replied Mrs. Arnot. 
 
 " When do you think he became a Christian? " 
 
 " Still less can I answer that question definitely." 
 
 "But would not one naturally think it was when he 
 was conscious of that happy change in the study of good 
 old Dr. Marks?" 
 
 "Poor Haldane has been conscious of many changes 
 and experiences, but I do not despise or make light of 
 any of them. It is certainly sensible to believe that every 
 effect has a cause ; and for one I believe that these 
 strange, mystical, and often rich and rapturous experi- 
 ences, are largely and perhaps wholly caused in many 
 instances by the direct action of God's Spirit on the 
 human spirit. Again, it would seem that men's religious 
 natures are profoundly stirred by human and earthly 
 causes, for the emotion ceases with the cause. It appears 
 to me that if people would only learn to look at these ex- 
 periences in a sensible way, they would be the better and 
 wiser for them. We are thus taught what a grand instru- 
 ment the soul is, and of what divine harmonies and pro- 
 found emodons it is capable when played upon by any 
 adequate power. To expect to maintain this exaltation 
 Avith our present nature is like requiring of the athlete 
 that he never relax his muscles, or of the prima donna
 
 342 KNIGUT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 that she never cease the exquisite trill ^vhich is but the 
 momentary proof of what her present organization is 
 capable. And yet it would appear that many, like poor 
 Haldane, are tempted on one hand to entertain no 
 Christian hope because they cannot produce these deep 
 and happy emotions ; or, on the other hand, to give up 
 Christian hope because these emotions cease in the inevi- 
 table reaction that follows them. In my opinion it is 
 when we accept of Christ as Saviour and Guide we be- 
 come Christians, and a Christian life is the maintenance 
 of this simple yet vital relationship. We thus continue 
 branches of the ' true vine.' I think Haldane has formed 
 this relationship," 
 
 " It would seem from your account that he had formed 
 it, consciously, but a very brief time since," said Dr. 
 Barstow, " and yet for weeks previous he had been put- 
 ting forth what closely resembles Christian effort, exer- 
 cising Christian forbearance, and for a time at least en- 
 joying happy spiritual experiences. Can you believe that 
 all this is possible to one who is yet dead in trespasses 
 and sins ? " 
 
 " My dear Dr. Barstow, I cannot apply your syste- 
 matic theology to all of God's creatures any more than I 
 could apply a rigid and carefully lined-out system of 
 parental affection and government to your household, I 
 know that you love all of your children, both when they 
 are good and when they are bad, and that you are ever 
 trying to help the naughty ones to be better. I am in- 
 clined to think that I could learn more sound theology on 
 these points in your nursery and dining-room than in 
 your study. I am sure, however, that God does not wait 
 till His little bewildered children reach a certain theolog- 
 ical mile-stone before reaching out His hand to guide and 
 help them." 
 
 " You are both better theologians than I am," said Mr. 
 Ivison, " and I shall not enter the lists with you on that
 
 3IR. GROWTHEE "STUJTPED.'^ 343 
 
 ground ; but I know what mill-life is to one of bis caste 
 and feeling, and his taking such work, and bis sticking 
 to it under the circumstances, is an exhibition of more 
 pluck than most young men possess. And yet it was his 
 only chance, for when people get down as low as be was 
 they must take any honest work in order to obtain a foot- 
 hold. Even now, burdened as he is by an evil name, it 
 is difficult to see how he can rise any higher." 
 
 " Could you not give him a clerkship.''" asked Mrs. 
 Arnot. 
 
 " No, I could not introduce him among my other 
 clerks. They would resent it as an insult." 
 
 " You could do this," said Mrs. Arnot with a slight 
 flush, " but I do not urge it or even ask it. You are in a 
 position to show great and generous kindness toward this 
 young man. As He who was highest stooped to the low- 
 liest, so those high in station and influence can often 
 stoop to the humble and fallen with a better grace than 
 those nearer to them in rank. If you believe this young 
 man is now trustworthy, and that trusting him would 
 make him still more so, you could give him a desk in 
 your private office, and thus teach your clerks a larger 
 charity. The influential and assured in position must 
 often take the lead in these matters." 
 
 Mr. Ivison thought a moment, and then said : 
 " Your proposition is unusual, Mrs. Arnot, but I'll think 
 of it. I make no promises, however." 
 
 " Mr. Ivison," added Mrs. Arnot, in her smiling, happy 
 way, " I hope you may make a great deal of money out 
 of your business this year ; but if, by means of it, you 
 can also aid in making a good and true man, you will be 
 still better off. Dr. Barstow here can tell you how sure 
 such investments are." 
 
 " If I should follow your lead and that of Dr. Barstow, 
 all my real estate would be in the 'Celestial City,' " 
 laughed Mr. Ivison. " But I have a special admiration
 
 344 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 for the grace of clear grit, and this young fellow, in de- 
 clining his mother's offer and trying to stand on his feet 
 here in Hillaton, where every one is ready to tread him 
 down, shows pluck, whatever else is wanting. I've had 
 my eye on him for some time, and I'm about satisfied 
 he's trying to do right. But it is difficult to know what 
 to do for one with his ugly reputation. I will see what 
 can be done, however." 
 
 That same evening chilly autumn winds were blow- 
 ing without, and Mr. Growther's passion for a wood fire 
 upon the hearth was an indulgence to which Haldane no 
 longer objected. The frugal supper was over, and the 
 two oddly diverse occupants of the quaint old kitchen 
 glowered at the red coals in silence, each busy with his own 
 thoughts. At last Haldane gave a long deep sigh, which 
 drew to him at once Mr. Growther's small twinkling eyes. 
 
 "Tough old world, isn't it, for sinners like us?" he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Well. Mr. Growther, I've got rather tired of inveigh- 
 ing against the world ; I'm coming to think that the 
 trouble is largely with myself." 
 
 " Umph ! " snarled the old man, " I've allers knowed 
 the trouble was with me, for of all crabbed, cranky, 
 cantankerous, old — " 
 
 " Hold on," cried Haldane, laughing, " don't you re- 
 member what Mrs. Arnot said about being unjust to one's 
 self? The only person that I have ever known you to 
 wrong is Jeremiah Growther, and it seems to me that you 
 do treat him outrageously sometimes." 
 
 At the name of Mrs. Arnot the old man's face softened 
 and he rubbed his hands together as he chuckled, " How 
 Satan must hate that woman ! 
 
 " I was in hopes that her words might lead you to be a 
 little juster to yourself," continued Haldane, " and it has 
 seemed to me that you, as well as I, have been in a bet- 
 ter mood of late."
 
 MR. GEOWTHER ''STUMPED.'' 345 
 
 " I don't take no stock in myself at all," said Mr. 
 Growther emphatically. " I'm a crooked stick and allers: 
 ^vill be — a reg'lar old gnarled knotty stick, with not 'nuff 
 good timber in it to make a penny whistle. That 1 
 haven't been in as (fussin' a state as usual, isn't because 
 I think any better of myself, but your Mrs. Arnot has 
 set me a-thinkin' on a new track. She come to see me 
 one day while you was at the mill, and we had a real 
 speret'al tussel. I argufied my case in such a way that 
 she couldn't git round it, and I proved to her that I was 
 the dryest and crookedest old stick that ever the devil 
 twisted out o' shape when it was a-growin'. On a sud- 
 dent she turned the argerment agin me in a way that has 
 stumped me ever since. ' You are right, Mr. Growther,* 
 she said, ' it was the devil and not the Lord that twisted 
 you out of shape. Now who's the stronger,' she says,. 
 
 • and who's goin' to have his own way in the end ? Sup- 
 pose you are very crooked, won't the Lord get all the 
 more glory in making you straight, and won't His victory- 
 be all the greater over the evil one?' Says I, 'Mrs. 
 Arnot, that's puttin* my case in a new light. If I should 
 be straightened out, it would be the awfulest set back Old 
 Nick ever had ; and if such a thing should happen he'd 
 never feel sure of any one after that.' Then she turned 
 on me kinder sharp, and says she, ' What right have you 
 to say that God is allers lookin* round for easy work?' 
 What would you think of a doctor who would take only 
 slight cases, and have nothing to do with people who- 
 were gittin' dangerous-like ? Isn't Jesus Christ the great 
 physician, and don't your common sense tell you that He 
 is jist as able to cure you as a little child ? ' 
 
 "I declare I was stumped. Like that ill-mannered 
 cuss in the Scripter who thought his old clothes good 
 enough for the weddin', I was speechless. 
 
 " But I got a worse knock down than that. Says she,. 
 
 • Mr. Growther, I will not dispute all the hard things you
 
 346 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 have said of yourself (you see I had beat her on that 
 line of argerment) ; I won't dispute all that you say (and 
 I felt a little sot up agin, for I didn't know what she was 
 a-drivin* at), but,' says she, ' I think you've got some 
 jiatural feelin's. Suppose you had a little son, and while 
 lie was out in the street a wicked man should carry him 
 •off and treat him so cruelly that, instead of growin' to be 
 -Strong and fine-lookin', he should become a puny de- 
 formed httle critter. Suppose at last you should hear 
 -where he was, and that he was longin' to escape from the 
 •cruel hands of his harsh master, who kept on a-treatin' 
 of him worse and worse, would you, his father, go and 
 coolly look at him and say, " If you was only a hand- 
 some boy, with a strong mind in a strong body, I'd de- 
 liver you out of this tyrant's clutches and take you back 
 to be my son again ; but since you are a poor, weak, 
 •deformed little critter, that can never do much, or be 
 much, I'll leave you here to be abused and tormented as 
 'before," — is that what you would do, Mr. Growther ? ' 
 
 " Well, she spoke it all so earnest and real-like that I 
 ;got off my guard, and I jist riz right up from my cheer, 
 -and I got hold of my heavy old cane there, and it seemed 
 .as if my hair stood right up on end, I was that mad at 
 the old curmudgeon that had my boy, and I half shouts, 
 ' No ! that ain't what I'd do. I'd go for that cuss that 
 stole my boy, and for every blow he'd given the little 
 chap, I'd give him a hundred.' 
 
 " ♦ But what would you do with the poor little boy ? ' 
 she asks. At that I began to choke, my feelin's was so 
 stirred up, and moppin' my eyes, I said, ' Poor little 
 •chap, all beaten and abused out o' shape ! What would 
 I do with him? Why, I couldn't do 'nuff for him in 
 tryin' to make him forget all the hard times he'd had.' 
 Then says she, ' You would twit the child with bein' 
 A\'eak, puny, and deformed, would you?' I was now 
 ihobblin' up and down the room in a great state of excite-
 
 J/i?. GROWTHER ''STUMPED.'' 347 
 
 ment, and says I, ' Mrs. Arnot, mean a man as I am, I. 
 wouldn't treat any human critter so, let alone my own 
 flesh and blood, that had been so abused that it makes- 
 my heart ache to think on't.' 
 
 " ' Don't you think you would love the boy a little even 
 though he had a hump on his back and his features were 
 thin and sharp and pale ? ' ' Mrs. Arnot,' says I, mop- 
 pin' my eyes agin, • if you say another word about the 
 little chap I shall be struck all of a heap, fur my heart 
 jist kinder — kinder pains like a toothache to do somethin* 
 for him.* Then all of a suddent she turns on me sharp- 
 agin, and says she, ' I think you are a very inconsistent 
 man, Mr. Growther. You have been runnin' yourself 
 down, and yet you claim to be better than your Maker^ 
 He calls Himself our Heavenly Father, and yet you are 
 sure that you have a kinder and more fatherly heart than 
 He. You are one of His little, weak, deformed children^ 
 twisted all out of shape, as you have described, by His 
 enemy and yours, and yet you the same as say that you 
 would act a great deal more like a true father toward 
 your child than He will toward His. You virtually say 
 that you would rescue your child and be pitiful and ten- 
 der toward him, but that your Heavenly Father will leave 
 you in the clutches of the cruel enemy, or exact condi- 
 tions that you cannot comply with before doing any thing 
 for you. Haven't you read in the Bible that " Like as a 
 father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that 
 fear Him " ? You think very meanly of yourself, but you 
 appear to think more meanly of God. Where is your 
 warrant for doing so? ' 
 
 " The truth bust in on me like the sunlight into this old 
 kitchen when we open the shutters of a summer mornin', 
 I saw that I was so completely floored in the argerment„ 
 and had made such a blasted old fool of myself all these 
 years that I just looked around for a knot-hole to crawl 
 into. I didn't know which way to look, but at last I
 
 348 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 looked at her, and my withered old heart gave a great 
 thump when I saw two tears a-standin* in her eyes. Then 
 she jumps up and gives me that warm hand o' her'n and 
 says : ' Mr. Growther, whenever you wish to know how 
 God feels toward you, think how you felt toward that lit- 
 tle chap that was abused and beaten all out o' shape,' 
 and she was gone. Well, the upshot of it all is that I 
 don't think a bit better of myself — not one bit — but that 
 weakly little chap, with a peaked face and a hump on 
 his back, that Mrs. Arnot made so real-like that I see 
 him a-lookin' at me out of the cheer there half the time — 
 he's a makin' me better acquainted with the Lord, for 
 the Lord knows I've got a hump on my back and humps 
 all over ; but I keep a-sayin' to myself, ' Like as a father 
 pitieth his children,' and I don't feel near as much like 
 cussin' as I used to. That little chap that Mrs. Arnot 
 described is doin' me a sight o' good, and if I could find 
 some poor little critter just like him, with no one to look 
 after him, I'd take him in and do for him in a minit." 
 
 "Mr. Growther," said Haldane, huskily, "you have 
 found that poor misshapen, dwarfed creature that I fear 
 will never attain the proportions of a true man. Of 
 course you see through Mrs. Arnot' s imagery. In be- 
 friending me you are caring for one who is weak and 
 puny indeed." 
 
 " Oh, you won't answer," said Mr. Growther with a 
 laugh. "I can see that your humps is growin' wisibly 
 less every day, and you're too big and broad-shouldered 
 for me to be a pettin' and a yearnin' over. I want jest 
 such a peaked little chap as Mrs. Arnot pictured out, 
 and that's doin' me such a sight o' good." 
 
 Again the two occupants of the old kitchen gazed at 
 the fire for a long time in silence, and again there came 
 from the young man the same long-drawn sigh that had 
 attracted Mr. Growther's attention before. 
 'That's the second time," he remarked.
 
 MR. GROWTHER ''STUMPED.'' 349 
 
 "I was thinking," said Haldane, rising to retire, 
 " whether I shall ever have better work than this odious 
 routine at the mill." 
 
 Mr, Growther pondered over the question a few min- 
 utes, and then said sententiously : " I'm inclined to think 
 the Lord gives us as good work as we're cap'ble of doin'. 
 He'll promote you when you've growed a little more."
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 GROWTH. 
 
 The next morning Haldane received a message direct- 
 ing him to report at Mr. Ivison's private office during the 
 noon recess. 
 
 "Be seated," said that gentleman as the young man, 
 •wearing an anxious and somewhat surprised expression, 
 ■entered hesitatingly and diffidently. " You need not 
 look so troubled. I have not sent for you to find fault — 
 •quite the reverse. You have ' a friend at court,' as the 
 saying goes. Not that you needed one particularly, for 
 I have had my eye upon you myself, and for some days 
 past have been inclined to give you a lift. But last even- 
 ing Mrs. Arnot spoke in your behalf, and through her 
 words I have been led to take the following step. For 
 reasons that perhaps you can understand, it would be 
 difficult for me to give you a desk among my other 
 •clerks. I am not so sensitive, now that I know your bet- 
 ter aims, and it is my wish that you take that desk there, 
 in this, my private office. Your duties will be very mis- 
 cellaneous. Sometimes I shall employ you as my errand- 
 boy, again I may intrust you with important and confi- 
 dential business. I stipulate that you perform the hum- 
 blest task as readily as any other." 
 
 Haldane' s face flushed with pleasure, and he said 
 warmly, " I am not in a position, sir, to consider any 
 honest work beneath me, and after your kindness I shall 
 regard any service I can render you as a privilege." 
 
 "A neat answer," laughed Mr. Ivison. "If you do 
 your work as well I shall be satisfied. Pluck and good 
 sense will make a man of you yet. I want you to under-
 
 GROWTH. 351 
 
 stand distinctly that it has been your readiness and de- 
 termination, not only to work, but to do any kind of 
 work, that has won my good-will. Here's a check for a 
 month's salary in advance. Be here to-morrow at nine, 
 dressed suitably for your new position. Good morning." 
 
 ■" Halloo! What's happened?" asked Mr. Growther 
 as Haldane came in that evening with face aglow with 
 gladness and excitement. 
 
 " According to your theory I've been promoted sure," 
 laughed the youth, and he related the unexpected event 
 of the day. 
 
 "That's jest like Mrs. Arnot," said Mr. Growther, rub- 
 bing his hands as he ever did when pleased ; " she's allers 
 givin' some poor critter a boost. T'other day 'twas me, 
 now agin it's you, and they say she's helpin' lots more 
 along. St. Peter will have to open the gate wide when 
 she comes in with her crowd. 'Pears to me sometimes 
 that I can fairly hear Satan a-gnashin' of his teet-h over 
 that woman. She's the wust enemy he has in town." 
 
 " I wish I might show her how grateful I am some 
 day," said Haldane, with moistened eyes ; " but I clearly 
 foresee that I can never repay her." 
 
 " No matter if you can't," replied the old man. " She 
 don't want any pay. It's her natur' to do these things." 
 
 Haldane gave his whole mind to the mastery of his 
 new duties, and after a few natural blunders speedily ac- 
 quired a facility in the diverse tasks allotted him. In a 
 manner that was perfectly unobtrusive and respectful he 
 watched his employer, studied his methods and habit of 
 mind, and thus gained the power of anticipating his 
 wishes. Mr. Ivison began to find his office and papers 
 kept in just the order he liked, the temperature main- 
 tained at a pleasant medium, and to receive many little 
 nameless attentions that added to his comfort and re- 
 duced the wear and tear of life to a hurried business- 
 man ; and when in emergencies Haldane was given
 
 352 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 tasks that required brains, he proved that he possessed a 
 fair share of them. 
 
 After quite a lapse of time Mr. Ivison again happened 
 to meet Mrs. Arnot, and he said to her: 
 
 " Haldane thinks you did him a great kindness in sug- 
 gesting our present arrangement ; but I am inchned to 
 think you did me a greater, for you have no idea how 
 useful the young fellow is making himself to me." 
 
 "Then you will have to find a new object of benev- 
 olence," answered the lady. " or you will have all your 
 reward in this world." 
 
 "There it is again," said Mr. Ivison, with his hearty 
 laugh, " you and Dr. Barstow give a man no peace. I'm 
 going to take breath before I strike in again." 
 
 In his new employment, Haldane, from the first, had 
 found considerable leisure on his hands, and after a little 
 thought decided to review carefully the studies over which 
 he had passed so superficially in his Student days. 
 ' Mr. Growther persisted in occupying the kitchen, leav- 
 ing what had been designed as the parlor or sitting-room 
 of his cottage to dust and damp. With his permission 
 the young man fitted this up as a study, and bought a 
 few popular works on science, as the nucleus of a library. 
 After supper he read the evening paper to Mr. Growther, 
 who soon fell into a doze, and then Haldane would steal 
 away to his own quarters and pursue with zest, until a 
 late hour, some study that had once seemed to him utterly 
 dry and unattractive. 
 
 Thus the months glided rapidly and serenely away, 
 and he was positively happy in a mode of life that he 
 once would have characterized as odiously humdrum. 
 The terrible world, whose favor had formerly seemed es- 
 sential, and its scorn unendurable, was almost forgotten ; 
 and as he continued at his duties so steadily and unob- 
 trusively the hostile world began to unbend gradually its 
 frowning aspect toward him. Those whom he daily met
 
 GROWTH. 353 
 
 in business commenced with a nod of recognition, and 
 eventually ended with a pleasant word. At church an 
 increasing number began to speak to him, not merely as 
 a Christian duty, but because the young man's sincere 
 and earnest manner interested them and inspired respect. 
 
 The fact that he recognized that he was under a cloud 
 and did not try to attract attention, worked in his favor. 
 He never asked the alms of a kindly word or glance, by 
 looking appealingly to one and another. It became his 
 habit to walk with his eyes downcast, not speaking to 
 nor looking toward any one unless first addressed. At 
 the same time his bearing was manly and erect, and 
 marked by a certain quiet dignity which inevitably char- 
 acterizes all who are honestly trying to do right. 
 
 Because he asked so little of society it was the more 
 disposed to give, and from a point of bare toleration it 
 passed on to a wiUingness to patronize with a faint en- 
 couraging smile. And yet it was the general feeling that 
 one whose name had been so sadly besmirched must be 
 kept at more than arm's length. 
 
 " He may get to heaven," said an old lady who was 
 remarking upon his regular attendance at church, " but 
 he can never hope to be received in good society again." 
 
 In the meantime the isolated youth was finding such 
 an increasing charm in the companionship of the gifted 
 minds who spoke to him from the printed pages of his 
 little library that he felt the deprivation less and less. 
 
 But an hour with Mrs. Arnot was one of his chief 
 pleasures, to which he looked forward with glad antici- 
 pation. For a long time he could not bring himself to 
 go to her house or to take the risk of meeting any of her 
 other guests, and in order to overcome his reluctance 
 she occasionally set apart an evening for him alone and 
 was "engaged " to all others. These were blessed hours 
 to the lonely young fellow, and their memory made him 
 stronger and more hopeful for days thereafter.
 
 354 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 In his Christian experience he was gaining a quiet se- 
 renity and confidence. He had fully settled it in his 
 mind, as Mrs. Arnot had suggested, that Jesus Christ 
 was both wiUing and able to save him, and he simply 
 trusted and tried to follow. 
 
 " Come," said that lady to him one evening, " it's time 
 you found a nook in the vineyard and went to work." 
 
 He shook his head emphatically as he replied, " I do 
 not feel myself either competent or worthy. Besides, 
 who would listen to me ? " 
 
 " Many might with profit. You can carry messages 
 from Mr. Ivison, can you not take a message from your 
 Divine Master? I have thought it all over, and can tell 
 you where you will be listened to at least, and where you 
 may do much good. I went, last Sunday, to the same 
 prison in which I visited you, and I read to the inmates. 
 It would be a moral triumph for you, Egbert, to go back 
 there as a Christian man and with the honest purpose of 
 doing good. It would be very pleasant for me to think 
 of you at work there every Sabbath. Make the attempt, 
 to please me, if for no better reason." 
 
 "That settles the question, Mrs. Arnot," said Hal- 
 dane, with a troubled smile. " I would try to preach in 
 Choctaw, if you requested it, and I fear all that I can 
 say 'out o' my own head,' as Mr. Growther would put 
 it, will be worse than Choctaw. But I can at least read 
 to the prisoners ; that is," he added, with downcast eyes 
 and a flush of his old shame, " if they will listen to me, 
 which I much doubt. You, with your large generous 
 sympathies, can never understand how greatly I am de- 
 spised, even by my own class." 
 
 " Please remember that I am of your class now, for 
 you are of the household of faith. I know what you 
 mean, Egbert. I am glad that you are so diffident and 
 so little inclined to ask on the ground of your Christian 
 profession that the past be overlooked. If there is one
 
 GROWTH. 355 
 
 thing that disgusts me more than another it is the dispo- 
 sition to make one's rehgion a stepping-stone to earthly 
 objects and the means of forcing upon others a famihar- 
 ity or a relationship that is offensive to them. I cannot 
 help doubting a profession of faith that is put to such low 
 uses. I know that you have special reason for humility, 
 but you must not let it develop into timidity. All I ask 
 is that you read to such poor creatures in the prison as 
 will listen to you a chapter in the Bible, and explain it as 
 -well as you can, and then read something else that you 
 think will interest them." 
 
 Haldane made the attempt, and met, at first, as he 
 feared, with but indifferent success. Even criminals 
 looked at him askance as he came in the guise of a reli- 
 gious teacher. But his manner was so unassuming, and 
 the spirit " I am better than thou " was so conspicuously 
 absent, that a few were disarmed, and partly out of curi- 
 osity, and partly to kill the time that passed so slowly, 
 they gathered at his invitation. He sat down among 
 them as if one of them, and in a voice that trembled 
 with diffidence read a chapter from the gospels. Since 
 he " put on no airs," as they said, one and another drew 
 near until all the inmates of the jail were grouped around 
 him. Having finished the chapter, Haldane closed the 
 Bible and said : 
 
 " I do not feel competent to explain this chapter. Per- 
 haps many of you understand it better than I do. I did 
 not even feel that I was worthy to come here and read 
 the chapter to you, but the Christian lady who visited you 
 last Sunday asked me to come, and I would do any thing 
 for her. She visited me when I was a prisoner like you, 
 and through her influence I am trying to be a better man. 
 I know, my friends, from sad experience, that when we 
 get down under men's feet, and are sent to places like 
 these, we lose heart and hope ; we feel that there is no 
 chance for us to get up again, we are tempted to be de-
 
 356 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 spaiiing and reckless ; but through the kindness and 
 mercy of that good lady, Mrs, Arnot, I learned of a kind- 
 ness and mercy greater even than hers. The world 
 may hate us, scorn us, and even trample us down, and 
 if we will be honest with ourselves we must admit that 
 we have given it some reason to do all this— at least I 
 feel that I have — but the world can't keep us down, and 
 what is far worse than the world, the evil in our own 
 1 earti can't keep us down, if we ask Jesus Christ to help 
 us up. I am finding this out by experience, and so know 
 the truth of what I am saying. This Bible tells us about 
 this strong, merciful One, this Friend of publicans and 
 sinners, and if you would like me to come here Sunday 
 afternoons and read about Him, I will do so very gladly 
 but I don't wish to force myself upon you if I'm not 
 wanted." 
 
 "Come, my hearty, come every time," said an old 
 sailor, with a resounding oath. " 'Tain't likely I'll ever 
 ship with your captain, for sech as I've come to be 
 couldn't pass muster. Howsumever, it's kind o' com- 
 fortin' to hear one talk as if there was plenty of sea-room, 
 even when a chap knows he's drivin' straight on the 
 rocks." 
 
 " Come, oh, come again," entreated the tremulous voice 
 of one who was crouching a httle back of his chair. 
 
 Haldane turned, and with a start recognized the fair 
 young girl, whose blue eyes and Madonna-like face had, 
 for a moment, even in the agony of his own shame, se- 
 cured his attention while in the police court, more than a 
 year before. She was terribly changed, and yet by that 
 strange principle by which we keep our identity through 
 all mutations, Haldane knew that she was the same, and 
 felt that by a glance he could almost trace back her life 
 through its awful descent to the time when she was a 
 beautiful and innocent girl. As a swift dark tide might 
 sweep a summer pinnace from its moorings, and dash it
 
 GROWTH. 357 
 
 on the rocks until it became a crushed and shapeless 
 thing, so passion or most untoward circumstances had 
 suddenly drawn this poor young creature among coarse, 
 destructive vices that had shattered the delicate, womanly 
 nature in one short year into utter wreck. 
 
 " Come again," she whispered in response to Haldane's 
 glance ; " come soon, or else I shall be in my grave, and 
 I've got the awful fear that it is the mouth of the bottom- 
 less pit. Otherwise I'd be glad to be in it." 
 
 "Poor child!" said Haldane, tears coming into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ah! " she gasped, "will God pity me like that?" 
 
 " Yes, for the Bible says, • The Lord is very pitiful and 
 of tender mercy.' My own despairing thoughts have 
 taught me to look for all of God's promises." 
 
 "You know nothing of the depths into which I have 
 fallen," she said in a low tone ; " I can see that in your 
 face." 
 
 Again Haldane ejaculated, "Poor child!" with a 
 heartfelt emphasis that did more good than the longest 
 homily. Then finding the Bible story which commences, 
 " And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner," 
 he turned a leaf down saying, 
 
 " I am neither wise enough nor good enough to guide 
 you, but I know that Mrs. Arnot will come and see you. 
 I shall leave my Bible with you, and, until she comes, 
 read where I have marked." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot did come, and the pure, high-born woman 
 shut the door of the narrow cell, and taking the head of 
 her fallen sister into her lap, listened with responsive 
 tears to the piteous story, as it was told with sighs, sobs, 
 and strong writhings of anguish. 
 
 As the girl became calmer and her mind emerged from 
 the chaos of her tempestuous and despairing sorrow, Mrs. 
 Arnot led her, as it were, to the very feet of Jesus of Naz- 
 areth, and left her there with these words,
 
 358 KNIGHT OF TUB NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 '• He came to seek and save just such as you are — the 
 lost. He is reaching down His rescuing hand of love to 
 you, and when you grasp it in simple confiding trust you 
 are saved." 
 
 Before the week closed, the poor creature forever 
 turned her face away from the world in which she had so 
 deeply sinned and suffered ; but before she departed on 
 the long journey, He who alone can grant to the humiin 
 soul full absolution, had said to her, " Thy sins are for- 
 given ; go in peace." 
 
 As Mrs. Arnot held her dying head she whispered, 
 " Tell him that it was his tears of honest sympathy that 
 first gave me hope." 
 
 That message had a vital influence over Haldane's 
 subsequent life. Indeed these v^'ords of the poor dying 
 waif were potent enough to shape all his future career. 
 He was taught by them the magnetic power of sympathy, 
 and that he who in the depths of his heart feels for his 
 fellow-creatures, can help them. He had once hoped 
 that he would dazzle men's eyes by the brilliancy of his 
 career, but he had long since concluded that he must 
 plod along the lowly paths of life. Until his visit to the 
 prison and its results the thought had scarcely occurred 
 to him that he could help others. He had felt that he 
 had been too sorely wounded himself ever to be more 
 than an invalid in the world's hospital ; but he now be- 
 gan to learn that his very sin and suffering enabled him 
 to approach nearer to those who were, as he was once, 
 on the brink of despair or in the apathy of utter discour- 
 agement, and to aid them more effectively because of his 
 kindred experience. 
 
 The truth that he, in the humblest possible way, could 
 engage in the noble work for which he revered Mrs. 
 Arnot, came like a burst of sunlight into his shadowed 
 life, and his visits to the prison were looked forward to 
 with increasing zest.
 
 GROWTH, 35» 
 
 From reading the chapter merely he eame to venture 
 on a few comments. Then questions were asked, and 
 he tried to answer some, and frankly said he could not 
 answer others. But these questions stimulated his mind 
 and led to thought and wider reading. To his own 
 agreeable surprise, as well as that of his prison class, he 
 occasionally was able to bring, on the following Sabbath, 
 a very satisfactory answer to some of the questions ; and 
 this suggested the truth that all questions could be an- 
 swered if only time and wisdom enough could be brought 
 to bear upon them. 
 
 He gradually acquired a facility in expressing his- 
 thoughts, and, better still, he had thoughts to express.. 
 Some of the prisoners, who were in durance but for a 
 brief time, asked him to take a class in the Guy-Street 
 Mission Chapel. 
 
 "They will scarcely want me there as a teacher," 
 he said with a slight flush. 
 
 But the superintendent and pastor, after some hesita- 
 tion and inquiry, concluded they did want him there, 
 and with some ex-prisoners as a nucleus, he unob- 
 trusively formed a class near the door. The two marked 
 characteristics of his Christian efforts — downright sin- 
 cerity and sympathy — were like strong, far-reaching 
 hands, and his class began to grow until it swamped the 
 small neighboring classes with uncouth and unkempt- 
 looking creatures that were drawn by the voice that as- 
 serted their manhood and womanhood in spite of their 
 degradation. Finally, before another year ended, a 
 large side-room was set apart for Haldane and his strange 
 following, and he made every one that entered it, no 
 matter how debased, believe that there were possibilities 
 of good in them yet, and he was able to impart this en- 
 couraging truth because he so thoroughly believed it 
 himself. 
 
 As he stood before that throng of publicans and sin-
 
 360 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ners, gathered from the slums of the city, and, with his 
 fine face hghted up with thought and sympatliy, spoke to 
 them the truth in such a way that they understood it and 
 felt its power, one could scarcely have believed that but 
 two years before he had been dragged from a drunken 
 brawl to the common jail. The explanation is simple — 
 he had followed closely that same divine Master who had 
 taught the fishermen of Gahlee.
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 LAURA ROMEYN. 
 
 Mrs. Haldane and her daughters found European 
 life so decidedly to their taste that it was doubtful 
 whether they would return for several years. The son 
 wrote regularly to his mother, for he had accepted of the 
 truth of Mrs. Arnot's words that nothing could excuse 
 him from the sacred duties which he owed to her. As 
 his fortunes improved and time elapsed without the ad- 
 vent of more disgraceful stories, she also began to re- 
 spond as frequently and sympathetically as could be ex- 
 pected of one taking her views of life. She was at last: 
 brought to acquiesce in his plan of remaining at Hillaton, if 
 not to approve of it, and after receiving one or two letters 
 from Mrs. Arnot, she was inclined to believe in the sincerity 
 of his Christian profession. She began to share in the old 
 lady's view already referred to, that he might reach heaven 
 at last, but could never be received in good society again. 
 
 " Egbert is so different from us, my dears," she would 
 sigh to her daughters, "that I suppose we should not 
 judge him by our standards. I suppose he is doing as 
 well as he ever will — as well indeed as his singularly un- 
 natural disposition permits." 
 
 It did not occur to the lady that she was a trifle unnat- 
 ural and unchristian herself in permitting jealousy to creep 
 into her heart, because Mrs. Arnot had wielded a power 
 for good over her son which she herself had failed to exert. 
 
 She instructed her lawyer, however, to pay to him an 
 annuity that was far beyond his needs in his present 
 frugal way of living. 
 
 This ample income enabled him at once to carry out a^ 
 cherished purpose, which had been forming in his mind for 
 several months, and which he now broached to Mrs. Arnot. 
 361
 
 362 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " For the last half year," he said, " I have thought a 
 great deal over the possibilities that life offers to one 
 situated as 1 am, I have tried to discover where I can 
 make my life-work, maimed and defective as it ever 
 must be, most effective, and it has seemed to me that I 
 could accomplish more as a physician than in any other 
 calling. In this character I could naturally gain access 
 to those who are in distress of body and mind, but who 
 are too poor to pay for ordinary attendance. There are 
 hundreds in this city, especially httle children, that, 
 through vice, ignorance, or poverty never receive proper 
 attention in illness. My service would not be refused by 
 this class, especially if they were gratuitous." 
 
 " You should charge for your visits, as a rule," said 
 •wise Mrs. Arnot. " Never give charity unless it is ab- 
 tsolutely necessary." 
 
 " Well, I could charge so moderately that my attend- 
 ance would not be a burden. I am very grateful to Mr. 
 Ivison for the position he gave me, but I would like to do 
 something more and better in life than I can accomplish 
 as his clerk. A physician among the poor has so many 
 chances to speak the truth to those who might otherwise 
 never hear it. Now this income from my father's estate 
 Avould enable me to set about the necessary studies at 
 once, and the only question in my mind is, will they re- 
 ceive me at the university ? " 
 
 "Egbert," said Mrs. Arnot, with one of those sudden 
 illuminations of her face which he so loved to see, " do 
 you remember what I said long ago, when you were a 
 <Jisheartened prisoner, about my ideal of knighthood ? If 
 you keep on you will fulfill it." 
 
 " I remember it well," he replied, " but you are mis- 
 taken. My best hope is to find, as you said upon an- 
 other occasion, my own little nook in the vineyard, and 
 quietly do my work there." 
 
 After considerable hesitation the faculty of the univer-
 
 LA UFA B03IEYN. 363 
 
 sity received Haldane as a student, and Mr. Ivisori 
 parted with him very reluctantly. His studies for the 
 past two years, and several weeks of careful review, en- 
 abled him to pass the examinations required in order to 
 enter the Junior year of the college course. 
 
 As his name appeared among those who might gradu- 
 ate in two years, the world still further relaxed its rigid 
 and forbidding aspect, and not a few took pains to mani- 
 fest to him their respect for his resolute upward course. 
 
 But he maintained his old, distant, unobtrusive man- 
 ner, and no one was obliged to recognize, much less to* 
 show, any special kindness to him, unless they chose ta 
 do so. He evidently shrank with a morbid sensitiveness 
 from any social contact with those who, in remembrance 
 of his past history, might shrink from him. But he had 
 not been at the university very long before Mrs. Arnot 
 overcame this diffidence so far as to induce him to meet 
 with certain manly fellows of his class at her house. 
 
 In all the frank and friendly interchange of thought 
 between Mrs. Arnot and the young man there was one 
 to whom, by tacit consent, they did not refer, except in. 
 the most casual manner, and that was Laura Romeyn. 
 Haldane had not seen her since the time she stumbled 
 upon him in his character of wood-sawyer. He kept 
 her image in a distant and doubly-locked chamber of his 
 heart, and seldom permitted his thoughts to go thither. 
 Thus the image had faded into a faint yet lovely outline 
 which he had learned to look upon with a regret that 
 Avas now scarcely deep enough to be regarded as pain.. 
 She had made one or two brief visits to her aunt, but he 
 had taken care never to meet her. He had learned in- 
 cidentally, however, that she had lost her father, andl 
 that her mother was far from well. 
 
 When calling upon Mrs. Arnot one blustering IMarch. 
 evening, toward the close of his Junior year, that lady- 
 explained her anxious clouded face by saying that her
 
 364 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 sister, Mrs. Romeyn, was very ill, and after a moment 
 added, half in soliloquy, "What would she do without 
 Laura?" ' 
 
 From this he gathered that the young girl was a loving 
 daughter and a faithful nurse, and the image of a pale, 
 yet lovely watcher rose before him with dangerous fre- 
 quency and distinctness. 
 
 A day or two after he received a note from Mrs. Ar- 
 not, informing him that she was about to leave home for 
 a visit to her invalid sister, and might be absent several 
 weeks. Her surmise proved correct, and when she re- 
 turned Laura came with her, and the deep mourning of 
 the orphan's dress but faintly reflected the darker sorrow 
 that shrouded her heart. When, a few sabbaths after 
 her arrival, her vailed figure passed up the aisle of the 
 church, he bowed his head in as sincere sympathy as one 
 person can give for the grief of another. 
 
 For a long time he did not venture to call on Mrs. Ar- 
 not, and then came only at her request. To his great 
 relief, he did not see Laura, for he felt that, conscious of 
 her great loss and the memories of the past, he should 
 be speechless in her presence. To Mrs. Arnot he said : 
 
 "Your sorrow has seemed to me such a sacred thing 
 that I felt that any reference to it on my part would be 
 like a profane touch ; but I was sure you would not mis- 
 interpret my silence or my absence, and would know 
 that you were never long absent from my thoughts." 
 
 He was rewarded by the characteristic lighting up of 
 her face as she said : 
 
 " Hillaton would scarcely give you credit for such del- 
 icacy of feeling, Egbert, but you are fulfilling my faith 
 in you. Neither have I forgotten you and your knightly 
 conflict because I have not seen or written to you. You 
 know well that my heart and hands have been full. And 
 now a very much longer time must elapse before we can 
 meet again. In her devotion to her mother my niece has
 
 LAURA EOJIEYX. 365 
 
 overtaxed her strength, and her physical and mental de- 
 pression is so great that our physician strongly recom- 
 mends a year abroad. You can see how intensely occu- 
 pied I have been in preparations for our hurried depar- 
 ture. We sail this week. I shall see your mother, no 
 doubt, and I am glad I can tell her that which I should 
 be proud to hear of a son of mine." 
 
 The year that followed was a long one to Haldane. 
 He managed to keep the even tenor of his way, but it 
 was often as the soldier makes his weary march in the 
 enemy's country, fighting for and holding, step by step, 
 with difficulty. His intense apphcation in his first year 
 of study and the excitements of the previous years at last 
 told upon him, and he often experienced days of extreme 
 lassitude and weariness. At one time he was quite ill> 
 and then he realized how lonely and isolated he was. 
 He still kept his quarters at the hermitage, but Mr. 
 Grovvther, with the kindest intentions, was too old and 
 decrej^it to prove much of a nurse. 
 
 In his hours of enforced idleness his imagination began 
 to retouch the shadowy image of Laura Romeyn with 
 an ideal beauty. In his pain and weakness her charac- 
 ter of watcher — in which her self-sacrificing devotion had 
 been so great as to impair her health — was peculiarly at- 
 tractive. She became to him a pale and lovely saint, 
 too remote and sacred for his human love, and yet suffi- 
 ciently human to continually haunt his mind with a vague 
 and regretful pain that he could never reach her side. 
 He now learned from its loss how valuable Mrs. Arnot's 
 society had been to him. Her letters, which were full 
 and moderately frequent, could not take the place of her 
 quiet yet inspiriting voice. 
 
 He was lonely, and he recognized the fact. While 
 there were hundreds now in Hillaton who wished him 
 well, and respected him for his brave struggle, he was 
 too shadowed by disgraceful memories to be received so-
 
 .366 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 -cially into the homes that he would care to visit. Some 
 •of the church people invited him out of a sense of duty, 
 but he recognized their motive, and shrank from such 
 •constrained courtesy with increasing sensitiveness. 
 
 But, though he showed human weakness and gave way 
 to long moods of despondency, at times inclining to mur- 
 mur bitterly at his lot, he suffered no serious reverses. 
 He patiently, even in the face of positive disinclination, 
 maintained his duties. He remembered how often the 
 Divine Man, in His shadowed life, went apart for prayer, 
 and honestly tried to imitate this example, so specially 
 -suited to one as maimed and imperfect as himself. 
 
 He found that his prayers were answered, that the 
 -Strong Friend to whom he had allied his weakness did 
 not fail him. He was sustained through the dark days, 
 ■and his faith eventually brought him peace and serenity. 
 He gained in patience and strength, and with better 
 iiealth came renewed hopefulness. 
 
 Although not a brilliant student, he was able to com- 
 plete his university course and graduate with credit. He 
 then took the first vacation that he had enjoyed for years, 
 and, equipping himself with fishing rod and a few favor- 
 ite authors, he buried himself in the mountains of Maine. 
 
 His prison and mission classes missed him sadly. Mr. 
 Growther found that he could no longer live a hermit's 
 iife, and began in good earnest to look for the "little, 
 peaked-faced chap" that had grown to be more and 
 more of a reality to him ; but the rest of Hillaton almost 
 forgot that Haldane had ever existed. 
 
 In the autumn he returned, brown and vigorous, and 
 entered upon his studies at the medical school connected 
 •with the university with decided ' zest. To his joy he 
 found a letter from Mrs. Arnot, informing him that the 
 health of her niece was fully restored, and that they were 
 about to return. And yet it was with misgivings that he 
 remembered that Ivaura would henceforth be an inmate
 
 LAUEA R031EYN. 367 
 
 of Mrs. Arnot's home. As a memory, however beauti- 
 ful, she was too shadowy to disturb his peace. Would 
 this be true if she had fulfilled all the rich promises of 
 her girlhood, and he saw her often ? 
 
 With a foreboding of future trouble he both dreaded 
 and longed to see once more the maiden who had once 
 so deeply stirred his heart, and who in the depths of his 
 disgrace had not scorned him when accidentally meeting 
 him in the guise and at the tasks of a common laborer. 
 
 It was with a quickened pulse that he read in the Spy, 
 one Monday evening, that Mrs. Arnot and niece had ar- 
 rived in town. It was with a quicker pulse that he re- 
 ceived a note from her a few days later asking him to call 
 that evening, and adding that two or three other young 
 men whom he knew to be her especial favorites would 
 be present. 
 
 Because our story has confined itself chiefly to the re- 
 lations existing between Haldane and Mrs. Arnot, it must 
 not be forgotten that her active sympathies were enlisted 
 in behalf of many others, some of whom were almost 
 equally attached to her and she to them. 
 
 After a little thought Haldane concluded that he would 
 much prefer that his first interview with Laura should be 
 in the presence of others, for he could then keep in the 
 background without exciting remark. 
 
 He sincerely hoped that when he saw her he might find 
 that her old power over him was a broken spell, and that 
 the lovely face which had haunted him all these years, 
 growing more beautiful with time, was but the creation 
 of his own fancy. He was sure she would still be pretty, 
 but if that were all he could go on his way without a re- 
 gretful thought. But if the shy maiden, whose half-en- 
 treating, compassionate tones had interrupted the harsh 
 rasping of his saw years ago, were the type of the woman 
 whom he should meet that evening, might not the bitter- 
 est punishment of his folly be still before him ?
 
 368 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 He waited till sure that the other guests had arrived, 
 and then entered to meet, as he believed, either a hope- 
 less thraldom or complete disenchantment. 
 
 As he crossed the threshold of the parlor the pleasure 
 of seeing Mrs. Arnot again, and of receiving her cordial 
 greeting, obliterated all other thoughts from his mind. 
 
 He had, however, but a moment's respite, for the lady 
 said : 
 
 " Laura, my friend Mr, Haldane." 
 
 He turned and saw, by actual vision, the face that in 
 fancy he had so often looked upon. It was not the face 
 that he expected to see at all. The shy, blue-eyed 
 maiden, who might have reminded one of a violet half 
 hidden among the grass, had indeed vanished, but an 
 ordinary pretty woman had not taken her place. 
 
 He felt this before he had time to consciously observe 
 it, and bowed rather low to hide his burning face ; but 
 she frankly held out her hand and said, though with 
 somewhat heightened color also : 
 
 " Mr. Haldane, I am glad to meet you again." 
 
 Then, either to give him time to recover himself, or 
 else, since the interruption was over, she was glad to re- 
 sume the conversation that had been suspended, she 
 turned to her former companions. Mrs. Arnot also left 
 him to himself a few moments, and by a determined ef- 
 fort he sought to calm the tumultuous riot of his blood. 
 He was not phlegmatic on any occasion ; but even Mrs. 
 Arnot could not understand why he should be so deeply 
 moved by this meeting. She ascribed it to the painful 
 and humihating memories of the past, and then dismissed 
 his manner from her mind. He speedily gained self-con- 
 trol, and, as is usual with strong natures, became unusu- 
 ally quiet and undemonstrative. Only in the depths of 
 his dark eyes could one have caught a glimpse of the 
 troubled spirit within, for it was troubled with a growing 
 consciousness of an infinite loss.
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 MISJUDGED. 
 
 The young men who were Mrs. Arnot's guests were 
 naturally attracted to Laura's side, and she speedily 
 proved that she possessed the rare power of entertaining 
 several gentlemen at the same time, and with such grace 
 and tact as to make each one feel that his presence was 
 both welcome and needed in the circle. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot devoted herself to Haldane, and showed 
 how genuine was her interest in him by taking up his life 
 where his last letter left it, and asking about all that had 
 since occurred. Indeed, with almost a mother's sympathy, 
 she led him to speak of the experiences of the entire year. 
 
 " It seems to me," he said, " that I have scarcely more 
 than held my ground." 
 
 " To hold one's ground, at times requires more courage, 
 more heroic patience and fortitude, than any other effort 
 we can make. I have been told that soldiers can charge 
 against any odds better than they can simply and coolly 
 stand their ground. But I can see that you have been 
 making progress. You have graduated with honor. You 
 are surely winning esteem and confidence. You have 
 kept your faith in God, and maintained your peculiar use- 
 fulness to a class that so few can reach : perhaps you are 
 doing more good than any of us, by proving that it is a 
 fact and not a theory that the fallen can rise." 
 
 " You are in the world, but not of it," he said ; and 
 then, as if anxious to change the subject, asked, " Did 
 you see my mother ? " 
 
 Although Mrs. Arnot did not intend it, there was a 
 slight constraint in her voice and manner as she replied : 
 *• Yes, I took especial pains to see her before I returned, 
 369
 
 370 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and went out of my way to do so. I wished to assure 
 her how well you were doing, and how certain you were 
 to retrieve the past, all of which, of course, she was very 
 glad to hear." 
 
 " Did she send me no message?" he asked, instinct- 
 ively feeling that something was wrong. 
 
 " She said that she wrote to you regularly, and so, of 
 course, felt that there was no need of sending any verbal 
 messages." 
 
 " Was she not cordial to you ? " asked the young man, 
 with a dark frown. 
 
 " She was very polite, Egbert. I think she misunder- 
 stands me a little." 
 
 His face flushed with indignation, and after a moment's 
 thought he said bitterly, and with something like con- 
 tempt, " Poor mother ! she is to be pitied." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's face became very grave, and almost se- 
 vere, and she replied, with an emphasis which he never 
 forgot, 
 
 " She is to be loved ; she is to be cherished with the 
 most delicate consideration and forbearance, and honored 
 — yes, honored — because she is your mother. You, as her 
 son, should never say, nor permit any one to say a word 
 against her. Nothing can absolve you from this sacred 
 duty. Remember this as you hope to be a true man," 
 
 This was Mrs. Arnot's return for the small jealousy of 
 her girlhood's friend. 
 
 He bowed his head, and after a moment replied : 
 " Mrs. Arnot, I feel, I know, you are right. I thank you." 
 
 "Now you are my knight again," she said, her face 
 suddenly lighting up. " But come ; let us join the others, 
 for they seem to have hit upon a very m.irthful and ani~ 
 mated discussion." 
 
 Laura's eye and sympathies took them in at once as 
 they approached, and enveloped them in the genial and 
 magnetic influences which she seemed to have the power
 
 MISJUDGED. 371 
 
 of exerting. Although naturally and deeply interested 
 in his interview with Mrs. Arnot, Haldane's eyes and 
 thoughts had been drawn frequently and irresistibly to 
 the object of his old-time passion. She was, indeed, very- 
 different from what he had expected. The diffident 
 maiden, so slight in form and shy in manner, had not de- 
 veloped into a drooping lily of a woman, suggesting that 
 she must always have a manly support of some kind near 
 at hand. Still less had she become a typical belle, and 
 the aggressive society girl who captures and amuses her- 
 self with her male admirers with the grace and sangfroid 
 of a sportive kitten that carefully keeps a hapless mouse 
 within reach of her velvet paw. The pale and saint-like 
 image which he had so long enshrined within his heart, 
 and which had been created by her devotion to her 
 mother, also faded utterly away in the presence of the 
 reality before him. She was a veritable flesh-and-blood 
 woman, with the hue of health upon her cheek, and the 
 charm of artistic beauty in her rounded form and graceful 
 manner. She was a revelation to him, transcending not 
 only all that he had seen, but all that he had imagined. 
 
 Thus far he had not attained a moral and intellectual 
 culture which enabled him even to idealize so beautiful 
 and perfect a creature. She was not a saint in the mys- 
 tical or imaginative sense of the word, but, as a queen 
 reigning by the divine right of her surpassing loveliness 
 and grace in even Hillaton's exclusive society, she was 
 practically as far removed from him as if she were an ideal 
 saint existing only in a painter's haunted imagination. 
 
 Nature had dowered Laura Romeyn very richly in the 
 graces of both person and mind ; but many others are 
 equally favored. Her indescribable charm arose from the 
 fact that she was very receptive in her disposition. She 
 had been wax to receive, but marble to retain. There- 
 fore, since she had always lived and breathed in an at- 
 mosphere of culture, refinement, and Christian faith, her
 
 372 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH K.ENTURY. 
 
 character had the exquisite beauty and fragrance which 
 belongs to a rare flower to which all the conditions of 
 perfect development have been supplied. Although the 
 light of her eye was serene, and her laugh as clear and 
 natural as the fall of water, there was a nameless some- 
 thing which indicated that her happy, healthful nature 
 rested against a dark back-ground of sorrow and trial,, 
 and was made the richer and more perfect thereby. 
 
 Her self-forgetfulness was contagious. The beautiful 
 girl did not look from one to another of the admiring cir- 
 cle for the sake of picking up a small revenue of flattery. 
 From a native generosity she wished to give pleasure to- 
 her guests ; from a holy principle instilled into her nature 
 so long ago that she was no longer conscious of it, she 
 wished to do them good by suggesting only such thoughts 
 as men associate with pure, good women ; and from ar> 
 earnest, yet sprightly mind, she took a genuine interest 
 herself in the subjects on which they were conversing. 
 
 By her tact, and with Mrs. Arnot's efficient aid, she 
 drew all into the current of their talk. The three other 
 young men who were Mrs. Arnot's guests that evening 
 were manly fellows, and had come to treat Haldane with 
 cordial respect. Thus for a time he was made to forget 
 all that had occurred to cloud his hfe. He found that 
 the presence of Laura kindled his intellect with a fire of 
 which he had never been conscious before. His eyes 
 flashed sympathy with every word she said, and before 
 he was aware he, too, was speaking his mind with free- 
 dom, for he saw no chilling repugnance toward him ir> 
 the kindly light of her deep blue eyes. She led him to 
 forget himself and his past so completely that he, in the ex- 
 citement of argument, inadvertently pronounced his own 
 doom. In answer to the remark of another, he said : — 
 
 " Society is right in being conservative and exclusive^ 
 and its favor should be the highest earthly reward of a 
 stainless life. The coarse and the vulgar should be
 
 MISJUDGED. 373 
 
 taught that they cannot purchase it nor elbow their way 
 into it, and those who have it should be made to feel that 
 losing it is hke losing life, for it can never be regained. 
 Thus society not only protects itself, but prevents weak 
 souls from dallying with temptation." 
 
 So well-bred was Laura that, while her color deep- 
 ened at his words, she betrayed no other consciousness 
 that they surprised her. But he suddenly remembered 
 all, and the blood rushed tumultuously to his face, then 
 left it very pale. 
 
 "What I have said is true, nevertheless," he added 
 quietly and decisively, as if in answer to these thoughts ; 
 " and losing one's place in society may be worse than 
 losing life." 
 
 He felt that this was true, as he looked at the beauti- 
 ful girl before him, so kind and gentle, and yet so un- 
 approachable by him ; and, what is more, he saw in her 
 face pitying acquiescence to his words. As her aunt's 
 protege, as a young man trying to reform, he felt that he 
 would have her good wishes and courteous treatment, 
 but never any thing more. 
 
 "Egbert, I take issue with you," began Mrs. Arnot 
 warmly ; but further remark was interrupted by the 
 entrance of a gentleman, who was announced as 
 
 " Mr. Beaumont." 
 
 There was a nice distinction between the greeting 
 given by Mrs. Arnot to this gentleman and that which 
 she had bestowed upon Haldane and her other guests. 
 His reception was simply the perfection of quiet courtesy, 
 and no one could have been sure that the lady was glad 
 to see him. She merely welcomed him as a social equal 
 to her parlors, and then turned again to her friends. 
 
 But Laura had a kindlier greeting for the newcomer. 
 While her manner was equally undemonstrative, her eyes 
 lighted up with pleasure and the color deepened m her 
 cheeks. It was evident that they were old acquaintances,
 
 374 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and that he had found previous occasions for making him- 
 self very agreeable. 
 
 Mr. Beaumont did not care to form one of a circle. 
 He was in the world's estimation, possibly in his own, a 
 complete circle in himself, rounded out and perfect on 
 every side. He was the only son in one of the oldest 
 and most aristocratic families in the city ; he was the heir 
 of very large wealth ; his careful education had been sup- 
 plemented by years of foreign travel ; he was acknowl- 
 edged to be the best connoisseur of art in Hillaton ; and 
 to his irreproachable manners was added an irreproach- 
 able character. " He is a perfect gentleman," was the 
 verdict of the best society wherever he appeared. 
 
 Something to this effect Haldane learned from one of 
 the young men with whom he had been spending the 
 evening, as they bent their steps homeward — for soon 
 after Mr. Beaumont's arrival all took their departure. 
 
 That gentleman seemed to bring in with him a di^er- 
 ent atmosphere from that which had prevailed hitherto. 
 Although his bow was distant to Haldane when intro- 
 duced, his manner had been the perfection of polite- 
 ness to the others. For some reason, however, 
 there had been a sudden restraint and chill. Possibly 
 they had but unconsciously obeyed the strong will of 
 Mr. Beaumont, who wished their departure. He was 
 almost as resolute in having his own way as Mr. Arnot 
 himself. Not that he was ever rude to any one in any 
 circumstances, but he could politely freeze objectionable 
 persons out of a room as effectually as if he took them by 
 the shoulders and walked them out. There was so much 
 in his surroundings and antecedents to sustain his quiet 
 assumption, that the world was learning to say, " By your 
 leave," on all occasions. 
 
 Haldane was not long in reaching a conclusion as he 
 sat over a dying fire in his humble quarters at the her- 
 mitage. If he saw much of Laura Romeyn he would
 
 MISJUDGED. 375 
 
 love her of necessity by every law of his being. Assur- 
 ing himself of the hopelessness of his affection would make 
 no difference to one of his temperament. He was not 
 one who could coolly say to his ardent and impetuous 
 nature, "Thus far, and no farther." There was some- 
 thing in her every tone, word, and movement which 
 touched chords within his heart that vibrated pleasurably 
 or painfully. 
 
 This power cannot be explained. It was not passion. 
 Were Laura far more beautiful, something in her manner 
 or character might speedily have broken the spell by 
 which she unconsciously held her captive. His emotion 
 in no respect resembled the strong yet restful affection 
 that he entertained for Mrs. Arnot. Was it love ? Why- 
 should he love one who would not love in return, and 
 who, both in the world's and his own estimation, was 
 infinitely beyond his reach? However much his reason 
 might condemn his feelings, however much he might re- 
 gret the fact, his heart trembled at her presence, and, by 
 some instinct of its own, acknowledged its mistress. He 
 was compelled to admit to himself that he loved her 
 already, and that his boyhood's passion had only changed 
 as he had changed, and had become the strong and 
 abiding sentiment of the man. She only could have 
 broken the power by becoming commonplace, by losing 
 the peculiar charm which she had for him from the first. 
 But now he could not choose ; he had met his fate. 
 
 One thing, however, he could do, and that he resolved 
 upon before he closed his eyes in sleep in the faint dawn- 
 ing of the following day. He would not flutter as a poor 
 moth where he could not be received as an accepted lover. 
 
 This resolution he kept. He did not cease calhng upon 
 Mrs. Arnot, nor did the quiet warmth of his manner 
 toward her change ; but his visits became less frequent, 
 he pleading the engrossing character of his studies, and 
 the increasing preparation required to maintain his hold
 
 376 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 on his mission-class ; but the lady's delicate intuition was 
 not long in divining the true cause. One of his uncon- 
 scious glances at Laura revealed his heart to her woman's 
 eye as plainly as could any spoken words. But by no 
 word or hint did Mrs. Arnot reveal to him her knowl- 
 edge. Her tones might have been gentler and her eyes 
 kinder ; that was all. In her heart, however, she almost 
 revered the man who had the strength and patience to 
 take up this heavy and hopeless burden, and go on in 
 the path of duty without a word. How different was his 
 present course from his former passionate clamor for 
 what was then equally beyond his reach ! She was 
 almost provoked at her niece that she did not appreciate 
 Haldane more. But would she wish her peerless ward 
 to marry this darkly shadowed man, to whom no parlor 
 in Hillaton was open save her own? Even Mrs. Arnot 
 would shrink from this question. 
 
 Laura, too, had perceived that which Haldane meant 
 to hide from all the world. When has a beautiful woman 
 failed to recognize her w^orshipers ? But there was noth- 
 ing in Laura's nature which permitted her to exult over 
 such a discovery. She could not resent as presumption 
 a love that was so unobtrusive, for it became more and 
 more evident as time passed that the man who was mas- 
 tered by it would never voluntarily give to her the slight- 
 est hint of its existence. She was pleased that he was so 
 sensible as to recognize the impassable gulf between 
 them, and that he did not go moaning along the brink, 
 thus making a spectacle of himself, and becoming an 
 annoyance to her. Indeed, she sincerely respected him 
 for his reticence and self-control, but she also misjudged 
 him ; for he was so patient and strong, and went forward 
 with his duties so quietly and steadily, that she was in- 
 clined to believe that his feelings toward her were not 
 very deep, or else that he was so constituted that affairs 
 of the heart did not give him very much trouble.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 LAURA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT. 
 
 "Why, Laura, how your cheeks burn!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Arnot as she entered her niece's room one after- 
 noon. 
 
 " Now, don't laugh at me for being so foohsh, but I 
 have become absurdly excited over this story. Scott 
 was well called the ' Wizard of the North.' What a spell 
 he weaves over his pages ! When reading some of his 
 descriptions of men and manners in those old chivalric 
 times, I feel that I have been born some centuries too 
 late — in our time every thing is so matter-of-fact, and the 
 men are so prosaic. The world moves on with a steady 
 business jog, or, to change the figure with the monoto- 
 nous clank of uncle's machinery. My castle in the air 
 would be the counterpart of those which Scott describes." 
 
 "Romantic as ever," laughed her aunt; "and that 
 reminds me, by the way, of the saying that romantic girls 
 always marry matter-of-fact men, which, I suppose, will 
 be your fate. I confess I much prefer our own age. 
 Your stony castles make me shiver with a sense of dis- 
 comfort ; and as for the men, 1 imagine they are much 
 the same now as then for human nature does not change 
 much." 
 
 " O, auntie, what a prosaic speech ! Uncle might 
 have made it himself. The idea of men being much the 
 same now ! Why, in that day there were the widest and 
 most picturesque differences between men of the same* 
 rank. There were horrible villains, and then, to van- 
 quish these and undo the mischief they were ever cattis- 
 377
 
 378 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 ing, there were knights sans peur et sans reproche. But 
 now a gentleman is a gentleman, and all made up very 
 much in the same style, like their dress coats. I would 
 like to have seen at least one genuine knight — a man 
 good enough and brave enough to do and to dare any 
 thing to which he could be impelled by a most chivalric 
 •sense of duty. About the most heroic thing a man ever 
 did for me was to pick up my fan." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot thought of one man whose heart was al- 
 most breaking for her, and yet who maintained such a 
 quiet, masterful self-control that the object of his passion, 
 which had become hke a torturing flame, was not sub- 
 jected to even the shghtest annoyance ; and she said, 
 "You are satirical to-day. In my opinion there are as 
 true knights now as your favorite author ever described." 
 
 '* Not in Hillaton," laughed Laura, " or else their dis- 
 guise is perfect." 
 
 " Yes, in Hillaton," replied Mrs. Arnot, with some 
 warmth, " and among the visitors at this house. I know 
 of one who bids fair to fulfill my highest ideal of knight- 
 hood, and I think you will do me the justice to believe 
 that my standard is not a low one." 
 
 "Auntie, you fairly take away my breath!" said 
 Laura, in the same half-jesting spirit. "Where have 
 my eyes been? Pray, who is this paragon, who must, 
 indeed, be nearly perfect, to satisfy your standard?" 
 
 " You must discover him for yourself; as you say, he 
 appears to be but a gentleman, and would be the last 
 one in the world to think of himself as a knight, or to fill 
 your ideal of one. You must remember the character of 
 our age. If one of your favorite knights should step, 
 armed cap-a-pie, out of Scott's pages, all the dogs in 
 town would be at his heels, and he would probably bring 
 up at the station-house. My knight promises to become 
 the flower of his own age. Now I think of it, I do not 
 like the conventional word ' flower,' as used in this con-
 
 LAURA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT. 379 
 
 nection, for my knight is steadily growing strong like a 
 young oak. I hope I may live to see the man he will 
 eventually become." 
 
 "You know well, auntie," said Laura, "that I have 
 not meant half I have said. The men of our day are 
 certainly equal to the women, and I shall not have to 
 look far to find my superior in all respects. I must ad- 
 mit, however, that your words have piqued my curi- 
 osity, and I am rather glad you have not named this 
 ' heart of oak,' for the effort to discover him will form a 
 pleasant httle excitement." 
 
 " Were I that way inclined," said Mrs. Arnot, smiUng, 
 " I would be wiUing to wager a good deal that you will 
 hit upon the wrong man." 
 
 Laura became for a time quite a close student of human 
 nature, observing narrowly the physiognomy and weigh- 
 ing the words and manner, of her many gentleman ac- 
 quaintances ; but while she found much to respect, and 
 even to admire, in some, she was not sure that any one 
 of them answered to her aunt's description. Nor could 
 she obtain any farther light by inquiring somewhat inta 
 their antecedents. As for Mrs. Arnot, she was consider- 
 ably amused, but continued perfectly non-committal. 
 
 After Laura had quite looked through her acquaint- 
 ances Haldane made one of his infrequent calls, but as 
 Mr. Beaumont was also present she gave to her quondam 
 lover scarcely more than a kindly word of greeting, and 
 then forgot his existence. It did not occur to her, any 
 more than it would to Haldane himself, that he was the 
 knight. 
 
 Mr. Arnot, partly out of a grim humor peculiarly his 
 own, and partly to extenuate his severity tow^ard the 
 youth, had sent to his niece all the city papers contain- 
 ing unfavorable references to Haldane, and to her mind 
 the associations created by those disgraceful scenes were 
 still inseparable from him. She honestly respected him
 
 380 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 for his resolute effort to reform, as she would express it, 
 and as a sincere Christian girl she wished him the very 
 best of success, but this seemed as far as her regard for 
 him could ever go. She treated him kindly where most 
 others in her station would not recognize him at all, but 
 such was the delicacy and refinement of her nature that 
 she shrank from one who had been capable of acts like 
 his. The youth who had annoyed her with his passion, 
 whom she had seen fall upon the floor in gross intoxica- 
 tion, who had been dragged through the streets as a 
 criminal, and who twice had been in jail, was still a vivid 
 memory. She knew comparatively little about, and did 
 not understand, the man of to-day. Beyond the general 
 facts that he was doing well and doing good, it was evi- 
 dent that, by reason of old and disagreeable associations, 
 she did not wish to hear much about him, and Mrs. 
 Arnot had the wisdom to see that time and the young 
 man's own actions would do more to remove prejudice 
 from the mind of her niece, as well as from the memory 
 of society in general, than could any words of hers. 
 
 Of course, such a girl as Laura had many admirers, 
 and among them Mr. Beaumont was evidently winning 
 the first place in her esteem. Whether he were the 
 knight that her aunt had in mind or no, she was not sure, 
 but he realized her ideal more completely than any man 
 whom she had ever met. He did, indeed, seem the 
 " perfect flower of his age," although she was not so sure 
 of the oak-like qualities. She often asked herself wherein 
 she could find fault with him or with all that related to 
 him, and even her delicate discrimination could scarcely 
 find a vulnerable point. He was fine-looking, his heavy 
 side-whiskers redeeming his face from effeminacy ; he 
 was tall and elegant in his proportions ; his taste in his 
 dress was quiet and faultless ; he possessed the most re- 
 fined and highly-cultured mind of any man whom she 
 had known ; his family was exceedingly proud and aris-
 
 LAURA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT, 381 
 
 tocratic, but as far as there can be reason for these char- 
 acteristics, this old and vveahhy family had such reason. 
 Laura certainly could not find fault with these traits, for 
 from the first Mr. Beaumont's parents had sought to pay 
 her especial attention. It was quite evident that they 
 thought that the orphaned girl who was so richly dowered 
 with wealth and beauty might make as good a wife for 
 their matchless son as could be found, and such an opin- 
 ion on their part was, indeed, a high compliment to 
 Laura's birth and breeding. No one else in Hillaton 
 would have been thought of with any equanimity. 
 
 The son was inclined to take the same view as that en- 
 tertained by his parents, but, as the party most nearly 
 interested, he felt it incumbent upon him to scrutinize 
 very closely and deliberately the woman who might be- 
 come his wife, and surely this was a sensible thing to do. 
 
 There was nothing mercenary or coarse in his delicate 
 analysis and close observation. Far from it. Mr. Beau- 
 mont was the last man in the world to look a lady over 
 as he would a bale of merchandise. More than all things 
 else, Mr. Beaumont was a cofuioisseiir, and he sought 
 Mrs. Arnot's parlors with increasing frequency becau-se 
 he believed that he would there find the woman best fit- 
 ted to become the chief ornament of the stately family 
 mansion. 
 
 Laura had soon become conscious of this close tenta- 
 tive scrutiny, and at first she had been mclined to resent 
 its cool deliberateness. But, remembering that a man 
 certainly has a right to learn well the character of the 
 woman whom he may ask to be his wife, she felt that 
 there w-as nothing in his action of which she could com- 
 plain ; and it soon became a matter of pride with her, as 
 much as any thing else, to satisfy those fastidious eyes 
 that hitherto had critically looked the world over, and in 
 vain, for a pearl with a luster sufficiently clear. She be- 
 gan to study his taste, to dress for him, to sing for him,
 
 382 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 to read his favorite authors ; and so perfect was his taste 
 that she found herself aided and enriched by it. He 
 was her superior in these matters, for he had made 
 them his life-study. The first hour that she spent with 
 him in a picture-gallery was long remembered, for never 
 before had those fine and artistic marks which make a 
 painting great been so clearly pointed out to her. She 
 was brought to beheve that this man could lead her to 
 the highest point of culture to which she could attain, and 
 satisfy every refined taste that she possessed. It seemed 
 as if he could make life one long gallery of beautiful 
 objects, through which she might stroll in elegant leisure, 
 €ver conscious that he w^ho stood by to minister and ex- 
 plain was looking away from all things else in admiration 
 •of herself. 
 
 The prospect was too alluring. Laura was not an ad- 
 vanced female, with a mission ; she was simply a young 
 and lovely woman, capable of the noblest action and 
 feeling should the occasion demand them, but naturally 
 luxurious and beauty-loving in her tastes, and inchned to 
 shun the prosaic side of life. 
 
 She made Beaumont feel that she also was critical and 
 exacting. She had lived too long under Mrs. Arnot's in- 
 fluence to be satisfied with a man who merely lived for 
 the pleasure he could get out of each successive day. 
 He saw that she demanded that he should have a pur- 
 pose and aim in life, and he skillfully met this require- 
 ment by frequently descanting on esthetic culture as the 
 great lever which could move the world, and by suggest- 
 ing that the great question of his future was how he could 
 best bring this culture to the people. As a Christian, she 
 took issue with him as to its being f/ie great lever, but 
 was enthusiastic over It as a most powerful means of ele- 
 vating the masses, and she often found herself dreaming 
 •over how much a man gifted with Mr. Beaumont's ex- 
 quisite taste and large wealth could do by placing within
 
 LAURA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT. 383 
 
 the reach of the multitude objects of elevating art and 
 beauty. 
 
 By a fine instinct she felt, rather than saw, that Mrs. 
 Arnot did not specially hke the seemingly faultless man, 
 and was led to believe that her aunt's ideal knight was 
 to be found among some of the heartier young men who 
 were bent on doing good in the old-fashioned ways ; and, 
 with a tendency not unnatural in one so young and ro- 
 mantic, she thought ot her aunt as being a bit old-fash- 
 ioned and prosaic herself. In her youthful and ardent 
 imagination Beaumont came to fill more and more defi- 
 nitely her ideal of the modern knight — a man who 
 summed up within himself the perfect culture of his age, 
 and who was proposing to diffuse that culture as widely 
 as possible. 
 
 "You do not admire Mr. Beaumont," said Laura a 
 little abruptly to her aunt one day. 
 
 " You are mistaken, Laura ; I do admire him very 
 much." 
 
 " Well, you do not like him, then, to speak more cor- 
 rectly ; he takes no hold upon your sympathies." 
 
 "There is some truth in your last remark, I must ad- 
 mit. For some reason he does not. Perhaps it is my 
 fault, and I have sometimes asked myself. Is Mr. Beau- 
 mont capable of strong affection or self-sacrificing ac- 
 tion? has he much heart? " 
 
 '• I think you do him injustice in these respects," said 
 Laura warmly. 
 
 " Quite probably," replied Mrs. Arnot, adding with a 
 mischievous smile, vi^hich brought the rich color to her 
 niece's cheeks, " Perhaps you are in a better position to 
 judge of his possession of these qualities than I am. Thus 
 far he has given me only the opportunity of echoing so- 
 ciety's verdict — He is a perfect gentleman. I wish he 
 were a better Christian," she concluded gravely. 
 
 " I think he is a Christian, auntie."
 
 384 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Yes, dear, in a certain esthetic sense. But far be it 
 from me to judge him. Like the rest of the world, I re- 
 spect him as an honorable gentleman." 
 
 A few days after this conversation Mr. Beaumont drove 
 a pair of coal-black horses to Mrs. Arnot's door, and in- 
 vited Laura to take a drive. When, in the twilight, she 
 returned, she went straight to her aunt's private parlor, 
 and, curling down at her knees, as was her custom when 
 a child, said, 
 
 " Give me your blessing, auntie ; your congratulations, 
 also — I hope, although I am not so sure of these. I have 
 found my knight, though probably not yours. See!" 
 and she held up her finger, with a great flashing diamond 
 upon it. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot took the girl in her arms and said, " I do 
 bless you, my child, and I think I can congratulate you 
 also. On every principle of worldly prudence and 
 worldly foresight I am sure I can. It will be very hard 
 ever to give you up to another ; and yet I am growing 
 old, and I am glad that you, who are such a sacred 
 charge to me, have chosen one who stands so high in 
 the estimation of all, and who is so abundantly able to 
 gratify your tastes." 
 
 "Yes, auntie, I think 1 am fortunate," said Laura, 
 with complacent emphasis. " 1 have found a man not 
 only able to gratify all my tastes — and you know that 
 many of them are rather expensive — but he himself satis- 
 fies my most critical taste, and even fills out the ideal of 
 my fancy," 
 
 Mrs. Arnot gave a sudden sigh. 
 
 " Now, auntie, what, in the name of wonder, can that 
 foreboding sigh mean ? " 
 
 " You have not said that he satisfied your heart." 
 
 "0 1 think he does fully," said Laura, hastily, though 
 with a faint misgiving. " These tender feelings will come 
 in their own good time. We have not got far enough
 
 LAURA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT. 385 
 
 along for them yet. Besides, I never could have endured 
 a passionate lover. I was cured of any such tastes long 
 ago, you remember," she added, with a faint laugh. 
 
 " Poor Egbert ! " ejaculated Mrs. Arnot, with such sad 
 emphasis that Laura looked up into her face inquiringly 
 as she asked, 
 
 " You don't think he will care much, do you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Laura; you know he will care, perhaps more 
 deeply than I do ; but I believe that he will wish you 
 happiness as truly and honestly as myself." 
 
 " O, auntie ! how can it be that he will care as much 
 as yourself? " 
 
 "Is it possible, Laura, that you have failed to detect 
 his regard for you in all these months? I detected it at 
 a glance, and felt sure that you had also." 
 
 " So I did, auntie, long since, but I supposed it was, 
 as you say, a mere regard that did not trouble him much. 
 I should be sorry to think that it was otherwise." 
 
 "At all events, it has not troubled you much, what* 
 ever it may have cost him. You hardly do Haldane 
 justice. Your allusion to his former passion should re- 
 mind you that he still possesses the same ardent and im- 
 petuous nature, but it is under control. You cannot re- 
 turn his deep, yet unobtrusive, love, and, as the world is 
 constituted, it is probably well for you that this is true ; 
 but I cannot bear that it should have no better reward 
 than your last rather contemptuous allusion." 
 
 " Forgive me, auntie ; I did not imagine that he felt 
 as you seem to think. Indeed, in my happiness and pre- 
 occupation, I have scarcely thought of him at all. His 
 love has, in truth, been unobtrusive. So scrupulously 
 has he kept it from my notice that I had thought and 
 hoped that it had but little place in his mind. But if you 
 are right, I am very very sorry. Why is the waste of 
 these precious heart-treasures permitted?" and gather- 
 ing tears attested her sincerity.
 
 386 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 "That is an old, old question, which the world has 
 never answered. The scientists tell us that by a law of 
 nature no force is ever lost. If this be true in the phys- 
 ical world, it certainly should be in the spiritual. I also 
 believe that an honest, unselfish love can enrich the heart 
 that gives it, even though it receives no other reward. 
 But you have no occasion to blame yourself, Laura. It 
 is one of those things which never could have been helped. 
 Besides, Haldane is serving a Master who is pledged to 
 shape seeming evils for his good. I had no thought of 
 speaking of him at all, only your remark seemed so like 
 injusdce that I could not be silent. In the future, more- 
 over, you may do something for him. Society is too un- 
 relenting, and does not sufficiently recognize the struggle 
 he has made, and is yet making ; and he is so morbidly 
 sensitive that he will not take any thing that even looks 
 like social alms. You will be in a position to help him 
 toward the recognition which he deserves, for I should be 
 sorry to see him become a lonely and isolated man. Of 
 course, you will have to do this very carefully, but your 
 own graceful tact will best guide you in this matter. I 
 only wish you to appreciate the brave fight he is making 
 and the character he is forming, and not to think of him 
 merely as a commonplace, well-meaning man, who is at 
 last trying to do right, and who will be fairly content 
 with life if he can secure his bread and butter." 
 
 " I will remember what you say, and do my very 
 best," said Laura earnestly, "for I do sincerely respect 
 Mr. Haldane for his efforts to retrieve the past, and I 
 should despise myself did I not appreciate the delicate 
 consideration he has shown for me if he has such feehngs 
 as you suppose. Auntie!" she exclaimed after a mo- 
 ment, a sudden hght breaking in upon her, "Mr. Hal- 
 dane is your knight." 
 
 " And a very plain, prosaic knight, no doubt, he seems 
 to you."
 
 LAUBA CHOOSES HER KNIGHT. 387 
 
 " I confess that he does, and yet when I think of it I 
 admit that he has fought his way up against tremendous 
 odds. Indeed, his present position in contrast wdth what 
 he was involves so much hard fighting that I can only 
 think of him as one of those plain, rugged men who have 
 risen from the ranks." 
 
 " Look for the plain and rugged characteristics when 
 he next calls," said Mrs. Arnot quietly. "One would 
 have supposed that such a rugged nature would have in- 
 terposed some of his angles in your way." 
 
 " Forgive me, auntie ; I am inclined to think that I 
 know very little about your knight ; but it is natural that 
 I should much prefer my own. Your knight is Hke one 
 of those remorseful men of the olden time who, partly 
 from faith and partly in penance for past misdeeds, dons 
 a suit of plain heavy iron armor, and goes away to parts 
 unknown to fight the infidel. My knight is clad in shin- 
 ing steel ; nor is the steel less true because overlaid with 
 a filagree of gold ; and he will make the world better not 
 by striking rude and ponderous blows, but by teaching 
 it something of his own fair courtesy and his own rich 
 culture." 
 
 "Your description of Haldane is very fanciful and a 
 little far-fetched," said Mrs. Arnot, laughing ; " should I 
 reply in like vein I would only add that I believe that he 
 will henceforth keep the ' white cross ' on his knightly 
 mantle unstained. Already he seems to have won a 
 place in that ancient and honorable order established so 
 many centuries ago, the members of w^hich were entitled 
 to inscribe upon their shields the legend, ' He that ruleth 
 his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city.' But 
 we are carrying this fanciful imagery too far, and had 
 better drop it altogether. I know that you will do for 
 Haldane all that womanly delicacy permits, and that is 
 all I wish. Mr. Beaumont's course toward you com- 
 mands my entire respect. He long since asked both
 
 388 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 your uncle's consent and mine to pay you his address 3S, 
 and while we, of course, gave our approval, we have left 
 you wholly free to follow the promptings of your own 
 heart. In the world's estimation, Laura, it will be a 
 brilhant alhance for each party ; but my prayer shall be 
 that it may be a happy and sympathetic union, and that 
 you may find an unfailing and increasing content in each 
 other's society. Nothing can compensate for the absence 
 of a warm, kind heart, and the nature that is without it is 
 hke a home without a heart-stone and a fire ; the larger 
 and more stately it is, the colder and more cheerless it 
 seems." 
 
 Laura understood her aunt's allusion to her own bitter 
 disappointment, and she almost shivered at the possi- 
 bihty of meeting a like experience.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 MRS. ARNOT's knight. 
 
 It will not be supposed that Haldane was either blind 
 or indifferent during the long months in which Beaumont, 
 like a skillful engineer, was making his regular ap- 
 proaches to the fair lady whom he would win. He early 
 foresaw what appeared to him would be the inevitable 
 result, and yet, in spite of all his fortitude, and the 
 frequency with which he assured himself that it was 
 natural, that it was best, that it was right, that this peer- 
 less woman should wed a man of Beaumont's position 
 and culture, still that gentleman's assured dehberate ad- 
 vance was like the slow and torturing contraction of the 
 walls of that terrible chamber in the Inquisition which, 
 by an imperceptible movement, closed in upon and 
 crushed the prisoner. For a time he felt that he could 
 not endure the pain, and he grew haggard under it. 
 
 "What's the matter, my boy?" said Mr. Growther 
 abruptly to him one evening. " You look as if some- 
 thing was a-gnavvin' and a-eatin* your very heart out." 
 
 He satisfied his old friend by saying that he did not 
 feel well, and surely one sick at heart as he was might 
 justly say this. 
 
 Mr. Growther immediately suggested as remedies all 
 the drugs he had ever heard of, and even volunteered to 
 go after them ;, but Haldane said with a smile, 
 
 " I would not survive if I took a tenth part of the 
 medicines you have named, and not one of them would 
 do me any good. I think I'll take a walk instead." 
 
 Mr. Growther thought a few moments, and muttered
 
 390 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 to himself, "What a cussed old fool I've been to think 
 that rhubob and jallup could touch his case ! He's got 
 something on his mind," and with a commendable 
 delicacy he forbore to question and pry. 
 
 Gradually, however, Haldane obtained patience and 
 then strength to meet what seemed inevitable, and to go 
 forward with the strong, measured tread of a resolute 
 soldier. 
 
 While passing through his lonely and bitter conflict he 
 learned the value and significance of that ancient 
 prophecy, " He is despised and rejected of men ; a man 
 of sorrows and acquainted with grief ; and we hid, as it 
 were, our faces from him." How long, long ago God 
 planned and purposed to win the sympathy and con- 
 fidence of the suffering by coming so close to them in 
 like experience that they could feel sure — yes, know — 
 that He felt with them and for them. 
 
 Never before had the young man so fully realized how 
 vital a privilege it was to be a disciple of Christ — to be 
 near to Him — and enjoy what resembled a companion- 
 ship akin to that possessed by those who followed Him up 
 and down the rugged paths of Judea and Galilee. 
 
 When, at last, Laura's engagement became a recog- 
 nized fact, he received the intelligence as quietly as the 
 soldier who is ordered to take and hold a position that 
 will long try his fortitude and courage to the utmost. 
 
 As for Laura, the weeks that followed her engagement 
 were like a beautiful dream, but one that was created 
 largely by the springing hopes and buoyancy of youth, 
 and the witchery of her own vivid imagination. The 
 spring-time had come again, and the beauty and promise 
 of her own future seemed reflected in nature. Every 
 day she took long drives into the country with her lover, 
 or made expeditions to picture galleries in New York ; 
 again, they would visit public parks or beautiful private 
 grounds in which the landscape gardener had lavished
 
 MBS. ABNOrS KNIGHT. 391 
 
 his art. She hved and fairly reveled in a world of beauty, 
 and for the time it intoxicated her with delight. 
 
 There was also such a chorus of congratulation that 
 she could not help feeling complacent. Society indorsed 
 her choice so emphatically and universally that she was 
 sure she had made no mistake. She was caused to feel 
 that she had carried off the richest prize ever known ij. 
 Hillaton, and she w^as sufficiently human to be elated 
 over the fact. 
 
 Nor was the congratulation all on one side. Society 
 was quite as positive Uiat Beaumont had been equally 
 fortunate, and there were some that insisted that he had 
 gained the richer prize. It was known that Laura had 
 considerable property in her own name, and it was the 
 general belief that she would eventually become heiress 
 of a large part of the colossal fortune supposed to be in 
 the possession of Mr. and Mrs. Arnot. In respect to 
 character, beauty, accomphshments — in brief, the minor 
 considerations in the w^orld's estimation, it was admitted 
 by all that Laura had few superiors. Mr. Beaumont's 
 parents were lavish in the manifestations of their pleas- 
 ure and approval. And thus it would seem that these 
 two lives were fitly joined by the affinity of kindred tastes 
 by the congenial habits of equal rank, and by universal 
 acclamation. 
 
 Gradually, however, the glamour thrown around hei 
 new relationship by its very novelty, by unnumbered con- 
 gratulations, and the excitement attendant on so mo- 
 mentous a step in a young lady's life, began to pass 
 away. Every fine drive in the country surrounding the 
 city had been taken again and again ; all the fine galler- 
 ies had been visited, and the finer pictures admired and 
 dwelt upon in Mr. Beaumont's refined and quiet tones, 
 until there was little more to be said. Laura had come 
 to know exactly why her favorite paintings were beauti- 
 ful, and precisely the marks v/lhch gave them value.
 
 392 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 The pictures remained just as beautiful, but she became 
 rather tired of hearing Mr. Beaumont analyze them. Not 
 that she could find any fault with what he said, but it was 
 the same thing over and over again. She became, slowly 
 and unpleasantly, impressed with the thought that, while 
 Mr. Beaumont would probably take the. most correct 
 view of every object that met his eye, be would always 
 take the same view, and, having once heard him give an 
 opinion, she could anticipate on all future occasions just 
 what he would say. We all know, by disagreeable ex- 
 perience, that no man is so wearisome as he who repeats 
 himself over and over again without variation, no matter 
 how approved his first utterance may have been. Beau- 
 mont was remarkably gifted with the power of forming a 
 correct judgment of the technical work of others in all 
 departments of art and literature, and to the perfecting 
 of this accurate esthetic taste he had given the energies 
 of his maturer years. He had carefully scrutinized in 
 every land all that the best judges considered pre-emi- 
 nently great and beautiful, but his critical powers were 
 those of an expert, a connoisseur, only. His mind had 
 no freshness or originality. He had very little imagina- 
 tion. Laura's spirit would kindle before a beautiful 
 painting until her eyes suffused with tears. He would 
 observe coolly, with an eye that measured and compared 
 every thing with the received canons of art, and if the 
 drawing and coloring were correct he was simply — satis- 
 fied. 
 
 Again, he had a habit of forgetting that he had given 
 his artistic views upon a subject but a brief time before, 
 and would repeat them almost word for word, and often 
 his polished sentences and quiet monotone were as weari- 
 some as a thrice-told tale. 
 
 As time wore on the disagreeable thought began to 
 suggest itself to Laura that the man himself had culmi- 
 nated ; that he was perfected to the limit of his nature,
 
 3IRS. ARNOT'S KNIGHT, 393 
 
 and finished off. She foresaw with dread that she might 
 reach a point before very long when she would know all 
 that he knew, or, at least, all that he kept in his mind, 
 and that thereafter every thing would be endless repeti- 
 tion to the end of life. He dressed very much the same 
 every day ; his habits were very uniform and methodical. 
 In the world's estimation he was, indeed, a bright lumi- 
 nary, and he certainly resembled the heavenly bodies in 
 the following respects. Laura vyas learning that she 
 could calculate his orbit to a nicety, and know before- 
 hand what he would do and say in given conditions. 
 When she came to know him better she might be able to 
 trace the unwelcome resemblance still further, in the fact 
 that he did not seem to be progressing toward any thing, 
 but was going round and round in an habitual circle of 
 thought and action, with himself as the center of his uni- 
 verse. 
 
 Laura resisted the first and infrequent coming of these 
 thoughts, as if they were suggestions of the evil one ; 
 but, in spite of all effort, all self-reproach, they would re- 
 turn. Sometimes as little a thing as an elegant pose — so 
 perfect, indeed, as to suggest that it had been studied and 
 learned by heart years ago — would occasion them, and 
 the happy girl began to sigh over a faint foreboding of 
 trouble. 
 
 By no word or thought did she ever show him what was 
 passing in her mind, and she would have to show such 
 thoughts plainly before he would even dream of their ex- 
 istence, for no man ever more thoroughly believed in 
 himself than did Auguste Beaumont. He was satisfied 
 he had learned the best and most approved way of doing 
 every thing, and as his action was always the same, it 
 was, therefore, always right. Moreover, Laura eventu- 
 ally divined, while calling with him on his parents, that 
 the greatest heresy and most aggravated offense that any 
 one could be guilty of in the Beaumont mansion would
 
 394 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 be to find fault with Auguste. It would be a crime for 
 which neither reason nor palliation could be found. 
 
 Thus the prismatic hues which had surrounded this 
 man began to fade and Laura, who had hoped to escape 
 the prose of life, was reluctantly compelled to admit to 
 herself at times that she found her lover tiresomely prosy 
 and " splendidly null." 
 
 In the meantime Haldane had finished the studies of 
 his second year at the medical college, and had won the 
 respect of his instructors by his careful attention to the 
 lectures, and by a certain conscientious, painstaking 
 manner, rather than by the display of any striking or bril- 
 liant quahties. 
 
 One July evening, before taking his summer vacation, 
 he called on Mrs. Arnot. The sky in the west was so 
 threatening, and the storm came on so rapidly, that Mr. 
 Beaumont did not venture down to the city and Laura, 
 partly to fill a vacant hour, and partly to discover 
 wherein the man of to-day, of whom her aunt could 
 speak in such high terms, differed from the youth that 
 she, even as an immature girl, despised, determined to 
 give Haldane a little close observation. When he en- 
 tered she was at the piano, practicing a very difficult and 
 intricate piece of music that Beaumont had recently 
 brought to her, and he said, 
 
 " Please do not cease playing. Music, which is a part 
 of your daily fare, is to me a rarely tasted luxury, for 
 you know that in Hillaton there are but few public con- 
 certs even in winter." 
 
 She gave him a glance of genuine sympathy, as she re- 
 membered that only at a public concert where he could 
 pay his way to an unobtrusive seat could he find oppor- 
 tunity to enjoy that which was a part of her daily life. 
 In no parlor save her aunt's could he enjoy such refin- 
 ing pleasures, and for a reason that she knew well he 
 -had rarely availed himself of the privilege. Then an-
 
 MRS. ARNOTS KNIGHT. 395 
 
 other thought followed swiftly: "Surely a man so iso- 
 lated and cut off from these esthetic influences which Mr. 
 Beaumont regards as absolutely essential, must have be- 
 come uncouth and angular in his development." The 
 wish to discover how far this was true gave to her obser- 
 vation an increasing zest. She generously resolved, 
 however, to give him as rich a musical banquet as it was 
 in her power to furnish, if his eye and manner asked for it. 
 
 " Please continue what you were playing," he added, 
 " it piques my curiosity." 
 
 As the musical intricacy which gave the rich but tan- 
 gled fancies of a master-mind proceeded, his brow knit 
 in perplexity, and at its close he shook his head and re- 
 marked, 
 
 "That is beyond me. Now and then I seemed to 
 catch glimpses of meaning, and then all was obscure 
 again." 
 
 " It is beyond me, too," said Mrs. Arnot with a laugh. 
 •' Come, Laura, give us something simple. I have heard 
 severely classical and intricate music so long that I am 
 ready to welcome even • Auld lang syne.' " 
 
 " I also will enjoy a change to something old and sim- 
 ple," said Laura, and her fingers glided into a selection 
 which Haldane instantly recognized as Steibelt's Storm 
 Rondo. 
 
 As Laura glanced at him she saw his deepening color, 
 and then it suddenly flashed upon her when she had first 
 played that music for him, and her own face flushed 
 with annoyance at her forgetfulness. After playing it 
 partly through she turned to her music-stand in search 
 of something else, but Haldane said, 
 
 "Please finish the rondo. Miss Romeyn ; " adding, 
 with a frank laugh, "You have, no doubt, forgotten it ; 
 but you once, by means of this music, gave me one of 
 the most deserved and wholesome lessons I ever re- 
 ceived."
 
 396 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Your generous acknowledgment of a fancied mistake 
 at that time should have kept me from blunders this 
 evening," she replied in a pained tone. 
 
 With a steady glance that held her eyes he said very 
 quietly, and almost gently, 
 
 "You have made no blunder. Miss Romeyn. I do 
 not ignore the past, nor do I wish it to be ignored with 
 painstaking care. I am simply trying to face it and 
 overcome it as I might an enemy. I may be wrong, for 
 you know I have had little chance to become versed in 
 the ways of good society ; but it appears to me that it 
 would be better even for those who are to spend but a 
 social hour together that they should be free from the 
 constraint which must exist when there is a constant ef- 
 fort to shun delicate or dangerous ground. Please finish 
 the rondo ; and also please remember that the ice is not 
 thin here and there," he added with a smile. 
 
 Laura caught her aunt's glance, and the significant 
 lighting up of her face, and, with an answ-ering smile, 
 she said, 
 
 " If you will permit me to change the figure, I will 
 suggest that you have broken the ice so completely that 
 I shall take you at your word, and play and sing just 
 what you wish ; " and, bent upon giving the young man 
 all the pleasure she could, she exerted her powers to the 
 utmost in widely varied selections ; and while she saw 
 that his technical knowledge was hmited, it was clearly 
 evident that he possessed a nature singularly responsive 
 to musical thoughts and effects ; indeed, she found a 
 peculiar pleasure and incentive in glancing at his face 
 from time to time, for she saw reflected there the varied 
 characteristics of the melody. But once, as she looked up 
 to see how he liked an old Enghsh ballad, she caught 
 that which instantly brought the hot blood into her face. 
 
 Haldane had forgotten himself, forgotten that she be- 
 longed to another, and, under the spell of the old love
 
 MES. ABXOT'S KNIGHT. 397 
 
 song, had dropped his mask. She saw his heart in his 
 gaze of deep, intense affection more plainly than spoken 
 words could have revealed it. 
 
 He started slightly as he saw her conscious blush, 
 turned pale instead of becoming red and embarrassed, 
 and, save a shght compression of his hps, made no other 
 movement. She sang the concluding verse of the ballad 
 in a rather unsympathetic manner, and, after a light in- 
 strumental piece devoid of sentiment, rose from the piano. 
 
 Haldane thanked her with frank heartiness, and then 
 added in a playful manner that, although the concert was 
 over, he was weather-bound on account of the shower, 
 and would therefore try to compensate them for giving 
 him shelter by relating a curious story which was not only 
 founded on fact, but all fact ; and he soon had both of 
 his auditors deeply interested in one of those strange and 
 varied experiences which occasionally occur in real life, 
 and which he had learned through his mission class. 
 The tale was so full of lights and shadows that now it 
 provoked to laughter, and again almost moved the hs- 
 teners to tears. While the narrator made as little refer- 
 ence to himself as possible, he unconsciously and of ne- 
 cessity revealed how practically and vitally useful he was 
 to the class among whom he was working. Partly to 
 draw him out, and partly to learn more about certain 
 characters in whom she had become interested, Mrs. Ar- 
 not asked after one and another of Haldane's " difficult 
 cases." As his replies suggested inevitably something of 
 their dark and revolting history, Laura again forgot her- 
 self so far as to exclaim, 
 
 " How can you work among such people ? " 
 
 After the words were spoken she was ready to wish 
 that she had bitten her tongue out. 
 
 " Christ worked among them," replied he gravely, and 
 then he added, with a look of grateful affection toward 
 Mrs. Arnot, " Besides, your aunt has taught me by a
 
 398 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 happy experience that there are some possibiUties of a 
 change for the better in ' such people." " 
 
 "Mr. Haldane," said Laura impetuously, and with a 
 burning flush, " I sincerely beg your pardon. As you 
 were speaking you seemed so like my aunt in refinement 
 and character that you banished every other association 
 from my mind." 
 
 His face lighted up with a strong expression of pleas- 
 ure, and he said, 
 
 " I am glad that those words are so heartily uttered, 
 and that there is no premeditation in them ; for if in the 
 faintest and farthest degree I can even resemble Mrs. 
 Arnot, I shall feel that I am indeed making progress." 
 
 " I shall say what is in my mind without any constraint 
 whatever," said Mrs. Arnot. "Years ago, Egbert, when 
 once visiting you in prison, to which you had been sent 
 very justly, I said in effect, that in rising above yourself 
 and your circumstances, you would realize my ideal of 
 knighthood. You cannot know with what deep pleasure 
 I tell you to-night that you are realizing this ideal even 
 beyond my hopes." 
 
 "Mrs. Arnot," replied Haldane, in a tone that trem- 
 bled slightly, " I was justly sent to that prison, and to- 
 night, no doubt, I should have been in some other prison- 
 house of human justice — quite possibly," he added, in a 
 low, shuddering tone, " in the prison-house of God's 
 justice — if you had not come like an angel of mercy — if 
 you had not borne with me, taught me, restrained me, 
 helped me with a patience closely akin to Heaven's own. 
 It is the hope and prayer of my hfe that I may some day 
 prove how I appreciate all that you have done for me. 
 But, see ; the storm is over, as all storms will be in time. 
 Good night, and good-by," and he lifted her hand to his 
 lips in a manner that was at once so full of homage and 
 gratitude, and also the grace of natural and unstudied ac- 
 tion, that there came a rush of tears into the lady's eyes.
 
 MRS. ARNOT'S KNIGHT. 399 
 
 Laura held out her hand and said, " Mr. Haldane, you 
 cannot respect me more than you have taught me to re- 
 spect you." 
 
 He shook his head at these words, involuntarily inti- 
 mating that she did not know, and never could but de- 
 parted without trusting himself to reply. 
 
 The ladies sat quite a long time in silence. At length 
 Laura remarked with a sigh, 
 
 " Mr. Haldane is mistaken. The ice is thin here and 
 there, but I had no idea that there were such depths be- 
 neath it." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot did not reply at once, and when she did 
 perhaps she had in mind other experiences than those of 
 her young friend, for she only said in a low musing tone, 
 
 " Yes, he is right. All storms will be over in time."
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 
 
 The year previous Haldane had buried himself among 
 the mountains of Maine, but he resolved to spend much 
 of the present summer in the city of New York, studying 
 such works of art as were within his reach, haunting the 
 cool, quiet libraries, and visiting the hospitals, giving to 
 the last, as a medical student, the most of his time. He 
 found himself more lonely and isolated among the num- 
 berless strange faces than he had been in the northern 
 forests. He also went to his native city for the purpose 
 of visiting Dr. Marks, and as the family mansion was 
 closed, took a room at the hotel. His old acquaintances 
 stood far aloof at tirst, but when Dr. Marks carried him 
 off with friendly violence to the parsonage, and kept him 
 there as a welcome guest, those who had known him or 
 his family concluded that they could shake hands with 
 him, and many took pains to do so, and to congratulate 
 him on the course he was taking. Dr. Marks' parsonage 
 was emphatically the Interpreter's house to him, and 
 after a brief visit he returned to New York more encour- 
 aged with the hope that he would eventually retrieve the 
 past than ever he had been before. 
 
 But events now occurred which promised to speedily 
 blot out all possibility of an earthly future. In answer to 
 his letter describing his visit to Dr. Marks, he received 
 from Mrs. Arnot a brief note, saying that the warm 
 weather had afifected her very unfavorably, and that she 
 was quite ill and had been losing strength for some weeks. 
 On this ground he must pardon her brief reply. Her 
 closing words were, " Persevere, Egbert. In a few years 
 400
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 401 
 
 more the best homes in the land will be open to you, and 
 you can choose your society from those who are honor- 
 able here and will be honored hereafter." 
 
 There were marks of feebleijess in the handwriting, and 
 Haldane's anxiety was so strongly aroused in behalf of 
 his friend that he returned to Hillaton at once, hoping, how- 
 ever, that since the heats of August were nearly over, the 
 bracing breath of autumn would bring renewed strength. 
 
 After being announced he was shown directly up to 
 Mrs. Arnot's private parlor, and he found himself where, 
 years before, he had first met his friend. The memory 
 of the bright, vivacious lady who had then entertained 
 him with a delicate little lunch, while she suggested how 
 he might make his earliest venture out into the world 
 successful, flashed into his mind, with thronging thoughts 
 of all that had since occurred ; but now he was pained 
 to see that his friend reclined feebly on her lounge, and 
 held out her hand without rising. 
 
 " I am glad you have come," she said with quiet 
 emphasis, "for your sympathy will be welcome, although, 
 like others, you can do nothing for us in our trouble." 
 
 " Mrs. Arnot," he exclaimed in a tone of deep distress, 
 •" you are not seriously ill ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, " that is not it. I'm better, or 
 will be soon, I think. Laura, dear, light the gas, please, 
 and Egbert can read the telegrams for himself. You 
 once met my sister, Mrs. Poland, who resided in the 
 South, I think." 
 
 " Yes, I remember her very well. There was something 
 about her face that haunted me for months afterward." 
 
 " Amy was once very beautiful, but ill-health has 
 greatly changed her." 
 
 In the dusk of the evening Haldane had not seen 
 Laura and Mr. Beaumont, as he entered, and he now 
 greeted them with a quiet bow ; but Laura came and 
 gave him her hand, saying.
 
 402 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " We did not expect you to return so soon, Mr. Hal- 
 dane." 
 
 " After hearing that Mrs. Arnot was ill I could not rest 
 till I had seen her, and I received her note only this 
 morning." 
 
 He now saw that both Laura's eyes and Mrs. Arnot's 
 were red with weeping. 
 
 The latter, in answer to hfs questioning, troubled face, 
 said: "The yellow fever has broken out in the city 
 where my sister resides. Her husband, Mr. Poland, has 
 very important business interests there, which he could 
 not drop instantly. She would not leave him, and Amy, 
 her daughter, would not leave her mother. Indeed, be- 
 fore they were aware of their danger the disease had be- 
 come epidemic, and Mr. Poland was stricken down. The 
 first telegram is from my sister, and states this fact ; the 
 second there is from my niece, and it breaks my heart ta 
 read it," and she handed it to him and he read as follows : 
 
 " The worst has happened. Father very low. Doctor 
 gives little hope. I almost fear for mother's mind. The 
 city in panic — our help leaving — medical attendance un- 
 certain. It looks as if I should be left alone, and I help- 
 less. What shall I do?" 
 
 "Was there ever a more pathetic cry of distress ? '* 
 said Mrs. Arnot, with another burst of grief. "Oh that 
 I were strong and well, and I would fly to them at once." 
 
 " Do you think I could do any good by going? " asked 
 Laura, stepping forward eagerly, but very pale. 
 
 " No," interposed Mr. Beaumont, with sharp em- 
 phasis ; " you would only become an additional burden, 
 and add to the horrors of the situation." 
 
 " Mr. Beaumont is right ; but you are a noble woman 
 even to think of such a thing," said Haldane, and he 
 gave her a look of such strong feeling and admiration,, 
 that a little color came into her white cheeks. 
 
 " She does not realize what she is saying," added Mr-
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 403 
 
 Beaumont. " It would be certain death for an unac- 
 climated Northener to go down there now." 
 
 Laura grew very pale again. She had realized w^hat 
 she was saying, and was capable of the sacrifice ; but the 
 man who had recognized and appreciated her heroism 
 was not the one who held her plighted troth. 
 
 Paying no heed to Beaumont's last remark, Haldane 
 snatched up the daily paper that lay upon the table, and 
 turned hastily to a certain place for a moment, then, 
 looking at his watch, exclaimed eagerly : 
 
 " I can do it if not a moment is wasted. The express 
 train for the South leaves in an hour, and it connects 
 with all the through lines. Miss Romeyn, please write 
 for me, on your card, an introduction to your cousin, 
 Miss Poland, and I will present it, with the offer of my 
 assistance, at the earliest possible moment." 
 
 " Egbert, no ! " said Mrs. Arnot, with strong emphasis, 
 and rising from her couch, though so ill and feeble. " I 
 will not permit you to sacrifice your Hfe for comparative 
 strangers." 
 
 He turned and took her hand in both of his, and said, 
 
 "Mrs. Arnot, there is no time for remonstrance, and 
 it is useless. I am going, and no one shall prevent me." 
 Then he added, in tones and with a look of affection 
 which she never forgot, " Deeply as I regret this sad 
 emergency, I would not, for ten times the value of my 
 life, lose the opportunity it gives me. I can now show 
 you a small part -of my gratitude by serving those you 
 love. Besides, as you say, that telegram is such a pa- 
 thetic cry of distress that were you all strangers, I would 
 obey its unconscious command. But haste, the card ! " 
 
 " Egbert, you are excited ; you do not reahze what you 
 are saying! " cried the agitated lady. 
 
 He looked at her steadily for a moment, and then said, 
 in a tone so quiet and firm that it ended all remonstrance, 
 *' I realize fully what I am doing, and it is my right to
 
 404 KNIGUT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 decide upon my own action. To you, at least, I never 
 broke my word, and I assure you that I will go. Miss 
 Romeyn, will you oblige me by instantly writing that 
 card ? Your aunt is not able to write it." 
 
 His manner was so authoritative that Laura wrote with 
 a trembling hand : 
 
 The bearer is a very dear friend of aunt's. How brave and 
 noble a man he is you can learn from the fact that he comes to 
 your aid now. In deepest sympathy and love, Laura. 
 
 " Good-by, my dear, kind friend," said Haldane 
 cheerily to Mrs. Arnot while Laura was writing ; " you 
 overrate the danger. I feel that I shall return again, and 
 if I do not, there are many worse evils than dying." 
 
 "Your mother," said Mrs. Arnot, with a low sob. 
 
 " I shall write to her a long letter on the way and ex- 
 plain everything." 
 
 " She will feel that it never can be explained." 
 
 " I cannot help it," replied the young man resolutely ; 
 " I know that I am doing right, or my conscience is of 
 no use to me whatever." 
 
 Mrs. Arnot put her arms around his neck as if she 
 were his mother, and said in low, broken tones : 
 
 "God bless you, and go with you, my true knight; 
 nay, let me call you my own dear son this once. I will 
 thank you in heaven for all this, if not here," and then 
 she kissed him again and again. 
 
 "You have now repaid me a thousand-fold," he fal- 
 tered and then broke away. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane," said Laura tearfully, as he turned to 
 her, "Cousin Amy and I have been the closest friends 
 from childhood, and I cannot tell you how deeply I 
 appreciate your going to her aid. I could not expect a 
 brother to take such a risk." 
 
 Haldane felt that his present chance to look into 
 Laura's face might be his last, and again, before he was
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 40. 
 
 aware, he let his eyes reveal all his heart. She saw as 
 if written in them, "A brother might not be willing to 
 take the risk, but I am." 
 
 " Do I then render you a special service?" he asked, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " You could not render me a greater one." 
 
 " Why, this is better than I thought," he said. " How 
 fortunate I was in coming this evening ! There, please 
 do not look so distressed. A soldier takes such risks as 
 these every day, and never thinks of them. You have 
 before you a happy life. Miss Laura, and I am very, very 
 glad. Good courage, and good-by," and his manner 
 now was frank, cheerful, and brotherly. 
 
 She partly obeyed an impulse to speak, but checked 
 it, and tremblingly bent her head ; but the pressure she 
 gave his hand meant more than he or even she herself 
 understood at the time. 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Beaumont," he said, hurriedly. "I 
 need not wish you happiness, since you already possess 
 it ; " and he hastened from the room and the house with- 
 out once looking back. 
 
 A moment later they heard his rapid resolute tread 
 echoing from the stony pavement, but it speedily died 
 away. 
 
 Laura listened breathlessly at the window until the 
 faintest sound ceased. She had had her wish. She had 
 seen a man who was good enough and brave enough to 
 face any danger to which he felt impelled by a chivalric 
 sense of duty. She had seen a man depart upon as 
 knightly an expedition as any of which she had ever 
 read, but it was not her knight. 
 
 " This young Haldane is a brave fellow, and I had no 
 idea that there was so much of him," remarked Mr. 
 Beaumont in his quiet and refined tones. " Really, take 
 it all together, this has been a scene worthy of the brush 
 of a great painter."
 
 406 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " O Auguste ! " exclaimed Laura ; " how can you look 
 only on the esthetic side of such a scene?" And she 
 threw herself into a low chair and sobbed as if her heart 
 would break. 
 
 Mr. Beaumont was much perplexed, for he found that 
 all of his elegant platitudes were powerless to either com- 
 fort or soothe her. 
 
 "Leave her with me," said Mrs. Arnot. "The ex- 
 citements of the day have been too much for her. She 
 will be better to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Beaumont was glad to obey. He had been ac- 
 customed from childhood to leave all disagreeable duties 
 to others, and he thought that Laura had become a trifle 
 hysterical. "A little lavender and sleep is all that she 
 requires," he remarked to himself as he walked home in 
 the starlight. " But, by Jove ! she is more lovely in tears 
 than in smiles." 
 
 That he, Auguste Beaumont, should risk the loss of her 
 and all his other possessions by exposing his precious 
 person to a loathsome disease did not enter his mind. 
 
 "O auntie, auntie, I would rather have gone myself 
 and died, than feel as I do to-night," sobbed Laura. 
 
 " ' Courage' was Egbert's last word to you, Laura," 
 said Mrs. Arnot, " and courage and faith must be our 
 watchwords now. We must act, too, and at once. 
 Please tell your uncle I wish a draft for five hundred dol- 
 lars immediately, and explain why. Then inclose it in a 
 note to Egbert, and see that Michael puts it in his hands 
 at the depot. Write to Egbert not to spare money where 
 it may be of any use, or can secure any comfort. We 
 cannot tell how your Aunt Amy is situated, and money is 
 always useful. We must telegraph to your Cousin Amy 
 that a friend is coming. Let us realize what courage, 
 prayer, and faith can accomplish. Action will do you 
 good, LaiH'a." 
 
 The girl sprang to her feet and carried out her aunt's
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 40r 
 
 wishes with precision. That was the kind of "lavender'* 
 which her nature required. 
 
 After writing all that her aunt dictated, she added on. 
 her own part : 
 
 If the knowledge that I honor you above other men can sus- 
 tain you, rest assured that this is true ; if my sympathy and con- 
 stant remembrance can lighten your burdens, know that you 
 and those you serve will rarely be absent from my thoughts. 
 You make light of your heroic act. To me it is a revelation. 
 I did not know that men could be so strong and noble in our 
 day. Whether such words are right or conventional, I have 
 not even thought. My heart is full and I must speak them. 
 That God may bless you, aid you in serving those I love so 
 dearly, and return you in safety, will be my constant prayer. 
 
 Auntie falters out one more message, " Tell Egbert that sister 
 Amy's household have not our faith; suggest it, teach it if you. 
 can." Farewell, truest of friends. Laura Romeyn. 
 
 Mr. Growther was asleep in his chair when Haldane- 
 entered, and he stole by him and made preparations for 
 departure with silent celerity. Then, valise in hand, he 
 touched his old friend, who started up, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Lord a' massy, where did you come from, and where 
 yer goin' ? You look kinder sperit like. I say, am I 
 awake ? I was dreamin' you was startin' off to kill 
 somebody." 
 
 " Dreams go by contraries. It may be a long time 
 before we meet again. But we shall have many a good 
 talk over old times, if not here, why, in the better home, 
 for your ' peaked-faced little chap ' will surely lead you 
 there," and he explained all in a few brief sentences. 
 " And now, my kind, true friend, good-by. I thank you 
 from my heart for the shelter you have given me, and for 
 your stanch friendship when friends were so few. You 
 have done all that you could to make a man of me, and 
 now that you won't have time to quarrel with me about 
 it, I tell you to your face that you are not a mean man. 
 There are few larger-hearted, larger-souled men in this;
 
 408 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 city," and before the bewildered old gentleman could 
 reply, he was gone. 
 
 "Lord a' massy, Lord a' massy," groaned Mr. 
 Growther, " the bottom is jest fallin' out o' everything. 
 If he dies with the yellow-jack I'll git to cussin' as bad 
 as ever." 
 
 Haldane found Mrs. Arnot's coachman at the depot 
 with the letter Laura had written. As he read it his face 
 flushed with the deepest pleasure. Having a few mo- 
 ments to spare, he penciled hastily : 
 
 Miss Romeyn : — I have received from Michael the letter 
 with the draft. Say to Mrs. Arnot I shall obey both the 
 letter and spirit of her instructions. Let me add for myself that 
 my best hopes are more than fulfilled. That you, who know 
 all my past, could write such words seems like a heavenly 
 dream. But I assure you that you overestimate both the char- 
 acter of my action and the danger. It is all plain, simple duty, 
 M'hich hundreds of men would perform as a matter of course. 
 I ask but one favor, please look after Mr. Growther. He is 
 growing old and feeble ; I owe him so much — Mrs. Arnot will 
 tell you. Yours 
 
 " He couldn't write a word more, Miss, the train was 
 a movin' when he jumped on," said Michael when he 
 delivered the note. 
 
 But that final word had for Laura no conventional 
 meaning. She had long known that Haldane was, in 
 truth, hers, and she had deeply regretted the fact, and 
 would at any time have willingly broken the chain that 
 bound him, had it been in her power. Would she break 
 it to-night? Yes, unhesitatingly ; but it would now cost 
 her a pain to do so, which, at first, she would not under- 
 stand. On that stormy July evening when she gave Hal- 
 dane a little private concert she had obtained a glimpse 
 of a manhood unknown to her before, and it was full of 
 pleasing suggestion. To-night that same manhood which 
 is at once so strong, and yet so unselfish and gentle, had 
 stood out before her distinct and luminous in the light of
 
 A KNIGHTLY DEED. 409 
 
 a knightly deed, and she saw with the absoKiteness of ir- 
 resistible conviction that such a manhood was above and 
 beyond all surface pohsh, all mere esthetic culture, all 
 earthly rank — that it was something that belonged tc^ 
 God, and partook of the eternity of His greatness and 
 permanence. 
 
 By the kindred and noble possibihties of her own 
 womanly nature, she was of necessity deeply interested 
 in such a man having once recognized him ; and now for 
 weeks she must think of him as consciously serving her 
 in the most knightly way and at the hourly risk of his 
 life, and yet hoping for no greater reward than her es- 
 teem and respect. While she knew that he would have 
 gone eagerly for her aunt's sake, and might have gone 
 from a mere sense of duty, she had been clearly shown 
 that the thought of serving her had turned his dangerous 
 task into a privilege and a joy. Could she follow such a 
 man daily and hourly with her thoughts, could she in 
 vivid imagination watch his self-sacrificing efforts to min- 
 ister to, and save those she loved, with only the cool, de- 
 corous interest that Mr. Beaumont would deem proper in 
 the woman betrothed to himself? The future must an- 
 swer this question. 
 
 When Haldane had asked for a ticket to the southern 
 city to which he was destined, the agent stared at him a 
 moment and said : 
 
 " Don't you know yellow fever is epidemic there? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Haldane with such cold reserve of 
 manner that no further questions were asked ; but the 
 fact that he, a medical student, had bought a ticket for 
 the plague-stricken city was stated in the Courier the 
 following morning. His old friend Mr. Ivison soon in- 
 formed himself of the whole affair, and in a glowing 
 letter of eulogy made it impossible for any one to charge 
 that Mrs. Arnot had asked the young man to go to the 
 aid of her relatives at such tremendous personal risk.
 
 410 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 Indeed it was clearly stated, with the unimpeachable Mr, 
 Beaumont as authority, that she had entreated him not 
 to go, and had not the slightest expectation of his going 
 iintil he surprised her by his unalterable decision. 
 
 After reading and talking over this letter, sustained as 
 it had been by years of straightforward duty, even good 
 society concluded that it could socially recognize and re- 
 ceive this man ; and yet, as the old lady had remarked, 
 there was still an excellent prospect that he would enter 
 lieaven before he found a welcome to the exclusive circles 
 of Hillaton.
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 "O DREADED DEATH ! " 
 
 Haldane found time in the enforced pauses of his 
 journey to write a long and affectionate letter to his- 
 mother, explaining all, and asking her forgiveness again, 
 as he often had before. He also wrote to Mrs. Arnot a 
 cheerful note, in which he tried to put his course in the 
 most ordinary and matter-of-fact light possible, saying: 
 that as a medical student it was the most natural thing: 
 in the world for him to do. 
 
 As he approached the infected city he had the train 
 chiefly to himself, and he saw that the outgoing trains- 
 were full, and when at last he walked its streets it re- 
 minded him of a household of which some member is 
 very ill, or dead, and the few who were moving about 
 walked as if under a sad constraint and gloom. On 
 most faces were seen evidences of anxiety and trouble, 
 while a few were reckless. 
 
 Having obtained a carriage, he was driven to Mr. Po- 
 land's residence in a suburb. He dismissed the carriage- 
 at the gate, preferring to quietly announce himself. The- 
 sultry day was drawing to a close as he walked up the 
 graveled drive that led to the house. Not even the 
 faintest zephyr stirred the luxuriant tropical foliage that 
 here and there shadowed his path, and yet the stillness 
 and quiet of nature did not suggest peace and repose so 
 much as it did death. The motionless air, heavily laden 
 with a certain dead sweetness of flowers from the neigh- 
 boring garden, might well bring to mind the breathless 
 silence and the heavy atmosphere of the chamber in 
 
 411
 
 412 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 which the hfeless form and the fading funeral wreath are 
 perishing together. 
 
 So oppressed was Haldane he found himself walking 
 softly and mounting the steps of the piazza with a silent 
 tread, as if he were in truth approaching the majesty of 
 death. Before he could ring the bell there came from 
 the parlor a low, sad prelude, played on a small reed 
 organ that had been built in the room, and then a con- 
 tralto voice of peculiar sweetness sang the following 
 words with such depth of feeling that one felt that they 
 revealed the innermost emotion of the heart : 
 
 O priceless life ! warm, throbbing life, 
 With thought and love and passion rife, 
 
 I cling to thee. 
 Thou art an isle in the ocean wide; 
 Thou are a barque above the tide ; 
 How vague and void is all beside ! 
 
 I cling to thee. 
 
 O dreaded death ! cold, pallid death 
 Despair is in thy icy breath ; 
 
 I shrink from thee. 
 What victims wilt thou next enroll? 
 Thou hast a terror for my soul 
 Which will nor reason can control ; 
 
 I shrink from thee. 
 
 Then followed a sound that was like a low sob. This 
 surely was Amy, Laura's cousin-friend, and already she 
 had won the whole sympathy of his heart. 
 
 After ringing the bell he heard her step, and then she 
 paused, as he rightly surmised, to wipe away the thickly- 
 falling tears. He was almost startled when she appeared 
 before him, for the maiden had inherited the peculiar 
 and striking beauty of her mother. Sorrow and watch- 
 ing had brought unusual pallor to her cheeks ; but her 
 €yes were so large, so dark and intense, that they sug- 
 gested spirit rather than flesh and blood.
 
 "0 DREADED DEATH!'' 413 
 
 " I think that this is Miss Poland," commenced Hal- 
 dane in a manner that was marked by both sympathy 
 and respect, and he was about to hand her his card of 
 introduction, when she stepped eagerly forward and 
 took his hand, saying : " You are Mr. Haldane. I know 
 it at a glance." 
 
 " Yes, and wholly at your service." 
 
 Sdll retaining his hand, she looked for a second into 
 his face, as if she would read his soul and gauge the 
 compass of his nature ; so intent and penetrating was 
 her gaze, that Haldane felt that if there had been any 
 wavering or weakness on his part she would have known 
 it as truly as himself. 
 
 Her face suddenly lighted up with gratitude and 
 friendliness, and she said, earnestly : 
 
 " I do thank you for coming. I had purposed asking 
 you not to take so great a risk for us, but to return ; for, 
 to be frank with you, our physician has told me that your 
 risk is terribly great ; but I see that you are one that 
 would not turn back." 
 
 "You are right. Miss Poland." Then he added, with 
 a frank smile, "There is nothing terrible to me in the 
 risk you speak of. I honestly feel it a privilege to come 
 to your aid and I have but one request to make : that 
 you will let me serve you in any way and every way pos- 
 sible. By any hesitancy and undue delicacy in this re- 
 spect you will greatly pain me." 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed in a low and almost passionate 
 tone, " I am so glad you have come, for I was almost 
 desperate." 
 
 " Your father ? " asked Haldane very gravely. 
 
 " He is more quiet, and I try to think he is better, but 
 doctor won't say that he is. Ah, there he is coming now."" 
 
 A carriage drove rapidly to the door, and the physi- 
 cian sprang up the steps as if the hours were short for 
 the increasing pressure of his work.
 
 •414 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Miss Amy, why are you here yet ? I hoped that you 
 and your httle sister were on your way to the mountains," 
 he said, taking her hand. 
 
 " Please do not speak of it again," she rephed. " I 
 •cannot leave father and mother, and Bertha, you know, 
 is too young and nervous a child to be forced to go away 
 •alone. We must all remain together, and hope the best 
 from your skill." 
 
 *^God knows I'm doing all in my power to save my 
 dear old friend Poland," said the physician huskily, and 
 then he shook his head as if he had little hope. " How 
 is he now ? ' ' 
 
 " Better, I think. Dr. Orton, this is the friend of 
 whom I spoke, Mr. Haldane." 
 
 "You have always lived at the North?" asked the 
 physician, looking the young man over with a quick 
 glance. 
 
 >' Yes, sir. 
 
 " Do you realize the probable consequences of this ex- 
 posure to one not acchmated 1 ' ' 
 
 " Dr. Orton, I am a medical student, and I have come 
 to do my duty, which here will be to carry out strictly 
 your directions. I have only one deep cause for anxiety, 
 and that is that I may be taken with the disease before I 
 can be of much use. So please give me work at once." 
 
 "Give me your hand, old fellow. You do our profes- 
 sion credit, if not fully fledged. You are right, we must 
 all do what we can while we can, for the Lord only knows 
 how many hours are left to any of us. But Amy, my 
 dear, it makes me feel hke praying and swearing in the 
 same breath to find you still in this infernal city. A 
 friend promised to call this morning and take you and 
 your sister away." 
 
 " We cannot go." 
 
 " Well, well, as long as the old doctor is above ground 
 ^e will try to take care of you ; and this young gentle-
 
 ''0 DREADED DEATH!'' 415 
 
 man can be invaluable if he can hold on for a while be- 
 fore following too general a fashion. Come, sir, I will 
 install you as nurse at once." 
 
 " Doctor, Doctor Orton, what have you brought for 
 me? " cried a childish voice, and a little girl, fair and 
 blue-eyed, came fluttering down the stairs, intercepting 
 them on the way to Mr. Poland's room. 
 
 "Ah! there's my good httle fairy," said the kind- 
 hearted man, taking her in his arms and kissing her. 
 *'Look in my pockets, little one, and see what you can 
 find." 
 
 With delightful unconsciousness of the shadows 
 around her the child fumbled in his pockets and soon 
 pulled out a picture-book. 
 
 " No candy yet? " she exclaimed in disappointment. 
 
 " No candy at all. Bertha, nothing but good plain food 
 till next winter. You make sure of this, I suppose," he 
 said significantly to the elder sister. 
 
 " Yes, as far as possible. I will wait for you here." 
 
 They ascended to a large airy room on the second 
 floor. Even to Haldane, Mr. Poland appeared far down 
 in the dark valley ; but he was in that quiet and con- 
 scious state which follows the first stage of the fever, 
 which in his case, owing to his vigorous frame, had been 
 unusually prolonged. 
 
 Without a word the doctor felt the sick man's pulse, 
 who bent upon him his questioning eyes. From the 
 farther side of the bed, Mrs. Poland, sitting feebly in her 
 chair, also fixed upon the physician the same intense 
 searching gaze that Haldane had sustained from the 
 daughter. Dr. Orton looked for a moment into her pale, 
 thin face, which might have been taken as a model for 
 agonized anxiety, and then looked away again, for he 
 could not endure its expression. 
 
 " Orton, tell me the truth ; no wincing noiv," said Mr. 
 Poland in low, thick utterance.
 
 416 KNIGHT OF TEE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " My dear old friend, it cuts me to the heart to say it, 
 but if you have anything special that you would like to 
 say to your family I think you had better say it now." 
 
 " Then I am going to die," said the man and both his 
 tone and face were full of awe ; while poor Mrs. Poland 
 looked as if in extremis herself. 
 
 "This return and rapid rise of fever at this late day 
 looks very bad," said the physician, gloomily, " and you 
 insisted on knowing the truth." 
 
 " You ever were an honest friend, Orton ; I know you 
 have done your best for me, and, although w^orked to 
 death, have come to see me often. I leave my family in 
 your charge. God grant I may be the only one to suffer. 
 May I see the children? " 
 
 " Yes, a few moments ; but I do not wish them to be 
 in this room long ? " 
 
 " Don't go just yet, Orton. I — to tell you the truth, I 
 feel that dying is rather serious business, and you and I 
 have always taken life somewhat as a good joke. Call 
 the girls." 
 
 They came and stood by their mother. Amy was be- 
 yond tears, but little Bertha could not understand it, and 
 with difficulty could be kept from clambering upon the 
 bed to her father. 
 
 " Amy's naughty, she keeps me away from you, papa. 
 I've been wanting to see you all day, and Amy won't 
 let me." 
 
 The doctor and Haldane retired to the hallway. 
 
 There was an unutterable look in the dying man's eyes 
 as he fixed them on the little group. 
 
 " How can I leave you? how can I leave you?" he 
 groaned. 
 
 At this the child began to cry, and again struggled to 
 reach her father. She was evidently his idol, and he 
 prayed, " Wherever I go — whatever becomes of me, 
 God grant I may see that child again."
 
 "0 DREADED DEATH!'' 417 
 
 *' Mother," he said (he always called his wife by that 
 endearing name), " I'm sure you are mistaken. I want 
 to see you all again with such intense longing that I feel 
 I shall. This life can't be all. My heart revolts at it. 
 It's fiendish cruelty to tear asunder forever those who 
 love as we do. As I told you before, I'm going to take 
 my chances with the publican. Oh ! that some one could 
 make a prayer ! Orton ! " he called feebly. 
 
 The doctor entered, leaving the door open. 
 
 " Couldn't you offer a short prayer? You may think 
 it unmanly in me, but I am in sore straits, and I want to 
 see these loved ones again." 
 
 " Haldane," cried Dr. Orton, "here, offer a prayer, for 
 God's sake, if you can. I feel as if I were choking." 
 
 Without any hesitancy or mannerism the Chrisdan man 
 knelt at Mr. Poland's bedside and offered as simple and 
 natural a prayer as he would have spoken to the Divine 
 Man in person had he gone to Him in Judea, centuries 
 ago, in behalf of a friend. His faith was so absolute 
 that he that was petitioned became a living presence to 
 those who listened. 
 
 " God bless you, whoever you are," said the sick man. 
 *' Oh, that does me good ! It's less dark. It seems to 
 me that I've got hold of a hand that can sustain me." 
 
 " Bress de Lord! " ejaculated an old negress who sat 
 in a distant corner. 
 
 " I install this young man as your nurse to-night," said 
 Dr. Orton, huskily ; " I'll be here in the morning. 
 Come, little girls, go now." 
 
 "We shall meet again, Amy ; we shall meet again, 
 Bertie, darling ; remember papa said it and believed it." 
 
 Haldane saw a strange blending of love and terror in 
 Amy's eyes as she led her little and bewildered sister 
 from the room. 
 
 Dr. Orton took him to one side and rapidly gave his di- 
 rections. " His pulse," he said, " indicates that he may
 
 418 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 be violent during the night ; if so, induce Mrs. Poland to 
 retire, if possible. I doubt if he lives till morning." He 
 then told Haldane of such precautions as he should take 
 for his own safety, and departed. 
 
 The horrors of that night cannot be portrayed. As 
 the fever rose higher and higher, all evidence of the kind, 
 loving husband and father perished, and there remained 
 only a disease-tortured body. The awful black vomit 
 soon set in. The strong physical nature in its dying 
 throes taxed Haldane' s powerful strength to the utmost,, 
 and only by constant effort and main force could he keep 
 the sufferer in his bed. Mrs. Poland and the old colored 
 woman who assisted her would have been totally un- 
 equal to the occasion. Indeed, the wife was simply ap- 
 palled and overwhelmed with grief and horror, for the 
 poor man, unconscious of all save pain, and in accord- 
 ance with a common phase of the disease, filled the night 
 with unearthly cries and shrieks. But before the morn- 
 ing dawned, instead of tossing and delirium there was 
 the calm serenity of death. 
 
 As Haldane composed the form for its last sleep he said : 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Poland, your faithful watch is ended, 
 your husband suffers no more ; now, surely you will 
 yield to my entreaty and go to your room. I will see 
 that everything is properly attended to." 
 
 The poor woman was bending over her husband's 
 ashes, almost as motionless as they, and her answer was 
 a low cry as she fell across his body in a swoon. 
 
 Haldane lifted her gently up, and carried her from the 
 room. 
 
 Crouching at the door of the death -chamber, her eyes 
 dilated with horror, he found poor Amy. 
 
 " Is mother dead also ? " she gasped. 
 
 " No, Miss Amy. She only needs your care to revive 
 speedily. Please lead the way to your mother's apart' 
 ment."
 
 "0 DREADED DEATH!'' 419 
 
 •'I think there is a God, and that He sent you," she 
 whispered. 
 
 " You are right," he rephed, in the natural hearty tone 
 which is so potent in reassuring the terror-stricken. 
 *' Courage, Miss Amy ; all will be well at last. Now let 
 me help you like a brother, and when your moilier re- 
 vives, I will give her something to make her sleep ; I 
 then wish you to sleep also." 
 
 The poor lady revived after a time, and tried to rise 
 that she might return to her husband's room, but fell 
 back in utter weakness. 
 
 " Mrs. Poland," said Haldane gently, " you can do no 
 good there. You must live for your children now." 
 
 She soon was sleeping under the influence of an opiate. 
 
 " Will you rest, too, Miss Amy ? " asked Haldane. 
 
 "I will try," she faltered; but her large, dark eyes 
 looked as if they would never close again. 
 
 Returning to the room over which so deep a hush had 
 fallen, Haldane gave a few directions to the old negress 
 whom he left in charge, and then sought the rest he so 
 greatly needed himself.
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 "O PRICELESS life!" 
 
 When Haldane came down the following morning he 
 found Bertha playing on the piazza as unconscious of the 
 loss of her father as the birds singing among the trees 
 of their master. Amy soon joined them, and Haldane 
 saw that her eyes had the same appealing and indescrib- 
 able expression, both of sadness and terror, reminding 
 one of some timid and beautiful animal that had been 
 brought to bay by an enemy that was feared inexpressibly » 
 but from which there seemed no escape. 
 
 He took her hand with a strong and reassuring pres- 
 sure. 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed with a slight shudder, " how can 
 the sun shine? The birds, too, are singing as if there 
 were no death and sorrow in the world." 
 
 " Only a perfect faith, Miss Amy, can enable us, who 
 do know there is death and sorrow, to follow their exam- 
 ple." 
 
 " It's all a black mystery to me," she replied, turning 
 away. 
 
 "So it was to me once." 
 
 An old colored man, the husband of the negress who 
 had assisted Haldane in his watch, now appeared and 
 announced breakfast. 
 
 It was a comparatively silent meal, little Bertha doing 
 most of the talking. Amy would not have touched a 
 mouthful had it not been for Haldane's persuasion. 
 
 As soon as Bertha had finished, she said to Haldane : 
 
 " Amy told me that you did papa ever so much good 
 last evening : now I want to see him right away." 
 
 " Does she not know? " asked Haldane in a low tone. 
 
 420
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!'' 421 
 
 Amy shook her head. "It's too awful. What can 
 I tell her? " she faltered. 
 
 "It is indeed inexpressibly sad, but I think I can tell 
 the child without its seeming awful to her, and yet tell 
 her the truth," he replied. " Shall I try to explain ? " 
 
 " Yes, and let me listen, too, if you can rob the event 
 of any of its unutterable horror." 
 
 " Will Bertie come and hsten to me if I will tell her 
 about papa ? " 
 
 The child climbed into his lap at once, and turned her 
 large blue eyes up to his in perfect faith. 
 
 " Don't you remember that papa spoke last night of 
 leaving you ; but said you would surely meet again ? " 
 
 At this the child's lip began to quiver, and she said: 
 " But papa always comes and kisses me good-by before 
 he goes away." 
 
 "Perhaps he did, Bertie, when you were asleep in 
 your crib last night." 
 
 "Oh yes, now I'm sure he did if he's gone away, 
 'cause I 'member he once woke me up kissing me 
 good-by." 
 
 " I think he kissed you very softly, and so you didn't 
 wake. Our dear Saviour, Jesus, came last night, and 
 papa went away with Him. But he loves you just as 
 much as ever, and he isn't sick any more, and you will 
 surely see him again." 
 
 " Do you think he will bring me something nice when 
 he comes? " 
 
 " Wlien you see him again he will have for you, Bertie, 
 more beautiful things than you ever saw before in all your 
 life, but it may be a long time before you see him." 
 
 The child slipped down from his knee quite satisfied 
 and full of pleasant anticipation, and went back to her 
 play on the piazza. 
 
 " Do you believe all that ? " asked Amy, looking as if 
 Bertha had been told a fairy tale.
 
 422 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 
 
 " I do, indeed. I have told the child what I regard as 
 the highest form of the truth, though expressed in simple 
 language. Miss Amy, I know that your father was ever 
 kind to you. Did he ever turn coldly away from any 
 earnest appeal of yours? " 
 
 " Never, never," cried the girl, with a rush of tears. 
 
 " And can you believe that his Heavenly Father turned 
 from his touching appeal last night? Christ said to those 
 who were trusting in Him, ' I will come again and receive 
 you unto Myself; that where I am there ye may be also.* 
 As long as your father was conscious, he was clinging to 
 that divine hand that has never failed one true believer 
 in all these centuries. Surely, Miss Amy, your own rea- 
 son tells you that the poor helpless form that we must 
 bury to-day is not your father. The genial spirit, the 
 mind that was a power out in the world, the soul with its 
 noble and intense affections and aspirations — these made 
 the man that was your father. Therefore I say with truth 
 that the man, the imperishable part, has gone away with 
 Him who loved humanity, and who has prepared a bet- 
 ter place for us than this earth can ever be under the 
 most favoring circumstances. You can understand that 
 the body is but the changing, perishing shadow. 
 
 " When you compare the poor, disease-shattered house 
 in yonder room, with the regal spirit that dwelt within it, 
 when you compare that prostrate form — which, like a 
 fallen tree in the forest, is yielding to the universal law 
 of change — with the strong, active, intelligent man that 
 was your father, do not your very senses assure you that 
 your father has gone away, and, as I told Bertha, you 
 will surely see him again ? It may seem to you that what 
 I said about the good-by kiss was but a fiction to soothe 
 the child, but in my belief it was not. Though we know 
 with certainty so little of the detail of the life beyond, we 
 have two good grounds on w hich to base reasonable con- 
 jecture. We know of God's love ; we know your father^s
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFEt'^ 423 
 
 love ; now what would be natural in view of these two 
 facts ? I think we can manage to keep Bertha from see- 
 ing that which is no longer her father, and thus every 
 memory of him will be pleasant. We will leave intact 
 the impression which he himself made when he acted 
 consciously, for this which now remains is not himself at 
 all." 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of. 
 Dr. Orton ; but Haldane saw that Amy had grasped at 
 his words as one might try to catch a rope that was being 
 lowered to him in some otherwise hopeless abyss. 
 
 " I feared that such might be the end," said the doc- 
 tor, gloomily, on learning from Haldane the events of the 
 night ; " it frequently is in constitutions like his." Then 
 he went up and saw Mrs. Poland. 
 
 The lady's condition gave him much anxiety, but he 
 kept it to himself until they were alone. After leaving 
 quieting medicines for her with Amy, and breaking ut- 
 terly down in trying to say a few words of comfort to 
 the fatherless girl, he motioned to Haldane to follow him. 
 
 " Come with me to the city," he said, "and we will 
 arrange for such disposal of the remains as is best." 
 
 Having informed Amy of the nature of his errand, and 
 promising to telegraph Mrs, Arnot, Haldane accompanied 
 the physician to the business part of town. 
 
 "You have been a godsend to them," said the kind- 
 hearted old doctor, blowing his nose furiously. "This 
 case comes a little nearer home than any that has yet 
 occurred ; but then the bottom is just falling out of every- 
 thing, and it looks as if we would all go before we have a 
 frost. It seems to me, though, that I can stand anything 
 rather than see Amy go. She is engaged to a nephew 
 of mine — as fine a fellow as there is in town, if I do say 
 it, and I love the girl as if she were my own child. My 
 nephew is traveling in Europe now, and I doubt if he 
 knows the danger hanging over the girl. If anything
 
 424 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 happens to her it will about kill him, for he idolizes her, 
 and well he may. I'm dreadfully anxious about them all, 
 I fear most for Mrs. Poland's mind. She's a New-Eng- 
 land lady, as I suppose you know — wonderfully gifted 
 woman, too much brain power for that fragile body of 
 hers. Well, perhaps you did not understand all that was 
 said last night ; but Mrs. Poland has always been a great 
 reader, and she has been carried away by the material- 
 istic philosophy that's in fashion now-a-days. Queer, 
 isn't it ? and she two-thirds spirit herself. Her husband 
 and my best friend was as genial and whole-souled a 
 man as ever lived, fond of a good dinner, fond of a joke, 
 and fond of his family to idolatry. His wife had un- 
 bounded influence over him, or otherwise he might have 
 been a httle fast ; but he always laughed at what he 
 called her 'Yankee notions,' and said he would not ac- 
 cept her philosophy until she became a little more mate- 
 rial herself. Poland was a square, successful business- 
 man, but I fear he did not lay up much. He was too 
 open-hearted and free-handed — a typical Southerner I 
 suppose you would say at the North, that is, those of you 
 who don't think of us as all slave-drivers and slave- 
 traders. I expect the North and South will have to have 
 a good, square, stand-up fight before they understand 
 each other." 
 
 "God forbid ! " ejaculated Haldane. 
 
 " Well, I don't think you and I will ever quarrel. You 
 may call us what you please if you will take care of Po- 
 land's family." 
 
 " I have already learned to have a very thorough re- 
 spect both for your head and heart. Doctor Orton." 
 
 " I'm considerably worse than they average down 
 here. But as I was telling you, Mrs. Poland was a New- 
 England woman, and to humor her her husband em- 
 ployed such white servants as could be got in the city, 
 and poor trash they were most of the time. When the
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!'' 425 
 
 fever appeared they left instantly. Poland bought the 
 old colored people who are there with the place, and 
 gave them their freedom, and only they have stood by 
 them. What they would have done last night if you had 
 not come, God only knows. Poor Amy, poor Amy ! " 
 sighed the old doctor tempestuously ; " she's the prettiest 
 and pluckiest little girl in the city. She's half frightened 
 out of her wits, I can see that, and yet nothing but force 
 could get her away. For my nephew's sake and her 
 own I tried hard to induce her to go, but she stands her 
 ground like a soldier. What is best now I hardly know. 
 Mrs. Poland is so utterly prostrated that it might cost 
 her life to move her. Besides, they have all been so- 
 terribly exposed to the disease that they might be taken 
 with it on the journey, and to have them go wandering^ 
 off the Lord knows where at this chaotic time looks to- 
 me about as bad as staying where they are and I can 
 look after them. But we'll see, we'll see." And in hke 
 manner the sorely-troubled old gentleman talked rapidly 
 on, till they reached the undertaker's, seemingly finding- 
 a rehef in thus unburdening his heart to one of whose 
 sympathy he felt sure, and who might thus be led to feel 
 a deeper interest in the objects of his charge. 
 
 Even at that time of general disaster Haldane's abun- 
 dant funds enabled him to secure prompt attention. It 
 was decided that Mr. Poland's remains should be placed 
 in a receiving vault until such time as they could be re- 
 moved to the family burying-ground in another city, and 
 before the day closed everything had been attended to in 
 the manner which refined Christian feeling would dictate. 
 
 Before parting with Haldane, Doctor Orton had given 
 him careful directions what to do in case he recognized 
 symptoms of the fever in any of the family or himself- 
 " Keep Amy and Bertha with their mother all you can,"" 
 he said ; " anything to rouse the poor woman from that 
 stony despair into which she seems to have fallen."
 
 426 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 The long day at length came to an end. Haldane of 
 necessity had been much away, and he welcomed the 
 cool and quiet evening ; and yet he knew that with the 
 shadow of night, though so grateful after the glare and 
 lieat to which he had been subjected, the fatal pestilence 
 approached the nearer, as if to strike a deadlier blow. 
 As the pioneer forefathers of the city had shut their doors 
 and windows at night-fall lest their savage and lurking 
 foes should send a fatal arrow from some dusky covert, 
 so now again, with the close of the day, all doors and 
 windows must be shut against a more subtle and re- 
 morseless enemy, whose viewless shafts sped u-ith a 
 surer aim in darkness. 
 
 Amy had spent much of the day in unburdening her 
 lieart in a long letter to her Cousin Laura, in w hich in her 
 own vivid way she portrayed the part Haldane had acted 
 toward them. She had also written to her distant and 
 unconscious lover, and feehng that it might be the last 
 time, she had poured out to him a passion that was as in- 
 tense and yet as pure as the transparent flame that we 
 sometimes see issuing from the heart of the hard-wood 
 maple, as we sit brooding over our winter fire. 
 
 " Come and sit with us, and as one of us," she had 
 said to Haldane, and so they had all gathered at the 
 iDcdside of the widow, who had scarcely strength to do 
 more than fix her dark, wistful eyes on one and another 
 ■of the group. She was so bewildered and overwhelmed 
 with her loss that her mind had partially suspended its 
 action. She saw and heard everything ; she remembered 
 it all afterwards ; but now the very weight of the blow 
 3iad so stunned her that she was mercifully saved from 
 the agony of full consciousness. 
 
 Little Bertha climbed upon Haldane' s lap and pleaded 
 for a story. 
 
 " Yes, Bertie," he said, " and I think I know a story 
 that you would hke. You remember I told you that
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!'' 427 
 
 your papa had gone away with Jesus ; would you not like 
 to hear a story about this good friend of your papa's ? " 
 " Yes, yes, I would. Do you know much about Him ? '* 
 " Quite a good deal, for He's my friend too. I know 
 one true story about Him that I often like to think of. 
 Listen, and I will tell it to you. Jesus is the God who- 
 made us, and He lives 'way up above the sky. But He 
 not only made us, Bertie, but He also loves us, and in 
 order to show us how He loves us He is always coming 
 to this world to do us good ; and once He came and 
 lived here just like a man, so that we might all be sure 
 that He cared for us and wanted to make us good and 
 happy. Well, at that time when He lived here in this 
 world as a man He had some true friends who loved Him 
 and believed in Him. At a certain time they were all 
 staying on the shore of a sea, and one evening Jesus told 
 His friends to take a little boat and go over to the other 
 side of the sea, and He w^ould meet them there. Then 
 Jesus, who wanted to be alone, went up the side of the 
 mountain that rose from the water's edge. Then night 
 came and it began to grow darker and darker, and at 
 last it was so dark that the friends of Jesus that were in 
 the boat could only see a very little ways. Then a 
 moaning, sighing wind began to rise, and the poor men 
 in the boat saw that a storm was coming, and they pulled 
 hard with their oars in hopes of getting over on the other 
 side before the storm became very bad ; but by the time 
 they reached the very middle of the sea, the wind began 
 to blow furiously, just as you have seen it blow when the 
 trees bent 'way over toward the ground, and some per- 
 haps were broken down. A strong wind at sea makes 
 the water rise up in waves, and these waves began to- 
 beat against the boat, and before very long some of the 
 highest ones would dash into it. The men pulled with 
 their oars with all their might, but it was of no use ; the 
 wind was right against them, and though they did their
 
 428 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 best hour after hour, they still could get no nearer the 
 shore. How sad and full of danger was their condition ! 
 tiie dark, dark night was above and around them, the 
 dark, angry waves dashing by and over them, the cold, 
 black depths of water beneath them, and no sound in 
 their ears but the wild, rushing storm. What do you 
 think became of them ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid they were drowned," said Bertha, looking 
 up with eyes that were full of fear and trouble. 
 
 " Have you forgotten Jesus? " 
 
 " But He's 'way off on the side of the mountain." 
 
 " He is never so far from His friends but that He can 
 see them and know all about them. He saw these 
 friends in the boat, for Jesus can see in the darkness as 
 well as in the light ; and when the night grew darkest, 
 and the waves were highest, and His friends most weary 
 and discouraged. He came to them so that they might 
 know that He could save them, when they felt they could 
 not save themselves. And He came as no other help 
 could have come — walking over the very waves that 
 threatened to swallow up His friends ; and when He was 
 near to them He called out, ' Be of good cheer, it is I ; 
 be not afraid.' Then He went right up to the boat and 
 stepped into it among His friends. Oh ! what a happy 
 change His coming made, for the winds ceased, the 
 waves went down, and in a very little while the boat 
 reached the seashore. The bright sun rose up, the dark- 
 ness fled away, and the friends of Jesus were safe. They 
 have been safe ever since. Nothing can harm Jesus' 
 friends. He takes care of them from day to day, from 
 year to year, and from age to age. Whenever they are 
 in trouble or pain or danger He comes to them as He did 
 to His friends in the boat, and He brings them safely 
 through it all. Don't you think He is a good friend to 
 have ? " 
 
 " Isn't I too little to be His friend? "
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!''' 429 
 
 "No, indeed ; no one ever loved little children as He 
 does. He used to take them in His arms and bless them, 
 and He said, ' Suffer them to come to Me ; ' and where 
 He lives He has everything beautiful to make little chil- 
 dren happy." 
 
 " And you say papa is with Him? " 
 
 " Yes, papa is with Him." 
 
 " Why can't we all go to Him now ? " 
 
 " As soon as He is ready for us He will come for us." 
 
 " I wish He was ready for mamma, Amy, and me now, 
 and then we could all be together. It's so lonely with- 
 out papa. Oh! I'm so tired," she added after a few 
 moments, and a httle later her head dropped against 
 Haidane's breast, and she was asleep. 
 
 " Mr. Haldane," said Amy in a low-, agitated voice, 
 "have you embodied your faith in that story to Bertha? " 
 
 "Yes, Miss Amy." 
 
 " Why do you think " — and she hesitated. " How do 
 you know," she began again, "that any such Being as 
 Jesus exists and comes to any one's help? " 
 
 " Granting that the story I have told you is true, how 
 did His disciples knbw that He came to their help ? Did 
 not the hushed winds prove it ? Did not the quieted 
 waters prove it ? Did not His presence wnth them assure 
 them of it ? By equal proof I know that He can and 
 \\\\\ come to the aid of those who look to Him for aid. I 
 have passed through darker nights and wilder storms 
 than ever lowered over the Sea of Galilee, and I know by 
 simple, practical, happy experience that Jesus Christ, 
 through His all-pervading Spirit, has come to me in my 
 utter extremity again and again, and that I have the 
 same as felt His rescuing hand. Not that my trials and 
 temptations have been greater than those of many others, 
 but I have been weaker than others, and I have often 
 been conscious of His sustaining power when otherwise I 
 would have sunk beneath my burden. This is not a
 
 430 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTl/EV. 
 
 ^ 
 
 theory, Miss Amy, nor the infatuation of a few ignorant 
 people. It is the downright experience of mukitudes in 
 every walk of life, and, on merely scientific grounds, is 
 worth as much as any other experience. This story of 
 Jesus gains the sympathy of httle Bertha ; it also com- 
 mands the reverent belief of the most gifted and cul- 
 tivated minds in the world." 
 
 "Oh, that I could believe all this; but there is so 
 much mystery, so much that is dark. ' ' Then she glanced 
 at her mother, who had turned away her face and seemed 
 to be sleeping, and she asked : "If Christ is so strong 
 to help and save, why is He not strong to prevent evil ? 
 Why is there a cry of agony going up from this stricken 
 city ? Why must father die who was everything to us ? 
 Why must mother suffer so ? Why am I so shadowed by 
 an awful fear? Life means so much to me. I love it," 
 •she continued in low yet passionate tones. " I love the 
 song of birds, the breath of flowers, the sunlight, and 
 •every beautiful thing. I love sensation. I am not one 
 who finds a tame and tranquil pleasure in the things I 
 like or in the friends I love. My joys thrill every nerve 
 and fiber of my being. I cling tg them, I cannot give 
 them up. A few days ago life was as full of rich promise 
 to me as our tropical spring. It is still , though I will never 
 cease to feel the pain of this great sorrow, and yet this 
 horrible pit of death, corruption, and nothingness yawns 
 at my very feet. Mr. Haldane," she said in a still lower 
 and more shuddering tone, " I have a terrible presenti- 
 ment that I shall perish with this loathsome disease. I 
 may seem to you, who are so quiet and brave, very weak 
 and cowardly ; but I shrink from death with a dread 
 which you cannot understand and which no language can 
 express. It is repugnant to every instinct of my being, 
 and I can think of it only with unutterable loathing. If 
 I were old and feeble, if I had tasted all the joys of life 
 I might submit, but not now, not now. I feel with father
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!'' 431 
 
 that it is fiendish cruelty to give one such an intense love 
 of life and then wrench it away ; and, passionately as I 
 love life, there is one far more dear. There is that in 
 your nature which has so won my confidence that I can 
 reveal to you my whole heart. Mr. Haldane, I love one 
 who is hke you, manly and noble, and dearly as I prize 
 life, I think I could give it away in slow torture for his sake, 
 if required. How often my heart has thrilled to see his eyes 
 kindle with his foolish admiration, the infatuation of love 
 which makes its object beautiful at least to the lover. 
 And now to think that he does not know what I suffer 
 and fear, to think that I may never see him again, to 
 think that when he returns I may be a hideous mass of 
 corruption that he cannot even approach. Out upon 
 the phrases ' beneficent nature,' and ♦ natural law.' 
 Laws which permit such things are most unnatural, and 
 to endow one with such a love of life, such boundless" 
 ■capabihties of enjoying life, and then at the supreme 
 moment when the loss will be most bitterly felt to snatch 
 flt away, looks to me more like the work of devihsh in- 
 genuity than of a ' beneficent nature.' I feel with father, 
 it is fiendish cruelty." 
 
 Haldane bowed his head among Bertha's curls to hide 
 the tears that would come at this desperate cry of dis- 
 tress ; but Amy's eyes were hard and dry, and had the 
 agonized look which might have been their expression 
 had she been enduring physical torture. 
 
 " Miss Amy," he said brokenly after a moment, " you 
 forget that your father said, ' If this life is all, it is fiend- 
 ishly cruel to tear us from that which we have learned to 
 love so dearly,' and I agree with him. But this life is 
 not all ; the belief that human life ends at death is revolt- 
 ing to reason, conscience, and every sense of justice. 
 If this were true the basest villain could escape all the 
 •consequences of his evil in a moment, and you who are 
 so innocent, so exquisite in your spiritual organization, so
 
 432 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 brave and noble that you can face this awful fear in your 
 devotion to those you love — you by ceasing to breathe 
 merely would sink to precisely the same level and be no 
 different from the lifeless clay of the villain. Such 
 monstrous injustice is impossible ; it outrages every in- 
 stinct of justice, every particle of reason that I have. 
 
 "Miss Amy, don't you see that you are like the 
 disciples in the boat out in the midst of the sea? The 
 night is dark above you, the storm is wild around you, 
 the waves are dashing over you, the httle boat is frail, 
 and there are such cold, dark depths beneath it. But we 
 can't help these things. We can't explain the awful 
 mystery of evil and suffering ; sooner or later every 
 human life becomes enveloped in darkness, storm, and 
 danger. That wave-tossed boat in the midst of the sea 
 is an emblem of the commonest human experience. On 
 the wide sea of life, numberless little barks are at this 
 moment at the point of foundering. Few are so richly 
 freighted as yours, but the same unknown depths are 
 beneath each. But, Miss Amy, I pray you remember 
 the whole of this suggestive Bible story. Those im- 
 periled disciples were watched by a loving, powerful 
 friend. He came to their aid, making the very waves 
 that threatened to engulf the pathway of His rescuing love. 
 He saved those old-time friends. They are living to- 
 day, they will live forever. I can't explain the dark and 
 terrible things of which this world is full, I cannot ex- 
 plain the awful mystery of evil in any of its forms. I 
 know the pestilence is all around us ; I know it seems to 
 threaten your precious, beautiful life. I recognize the 
 fact, as I also remember the fact of the darkness and 
 storm around the little boat. But I also know with ab- 
 solute certainty that there is one who can come to your 
 rescue, whose province it is to give life, deathless life, life 
 more rich and full of thriUing happiness than you have 
 ever dreamed of, even with your vivid imagination."
 
 "0 PRICELESS LIFE!'' 433 
 
 '♦ How, how can you know this? \Nhd.\. proof can you 
 give me ? " she asked ; and no poor creature, whose Ufe 
 was indeed at stake, ever bent forward more eagerly to 
 catch the sentence of hfe or death, than did Amy Poland 
 the coming answer. 
 
 " I know it," he replied more calmly, " on the strongest 
 possible grounds of evidence — my own experience, the 
 experience of Mrs. Arnot, who is sincerity itself, and the 
 experience of multitudes of others. Believers in Jesus 
 Christ have been verifying His promises in every age, and 
 ill every possible emergency and condition of life, and if 
 their testimony is refused, human consciousness is no 
 longer a basis of knowledge. No one ever had a better 
 friend than Mrs. Arnot has been to me ; she has been the 
 means of saving me from disgrace, shame, and every- 
 thing that was base, and I love her with a gratitude that 
 is beyond words, and yet I am not so conscious of her 
 practical help and friendship as that of the Divine Man 
 who has been my patient unwavering friend in my long, 
 hard struggle." 
 
 Under his words, the hard, dry despair of Amy had 
 given way to gentler feelings, which found expression in 
 low, piteous sobbing. 
 
 " Oh, when will He come to me? " she asked, "for I 
 cannot doubt after such words." 
 
 "When you most need Him, Miss Amy. It is your 
 privilege to ask His comforting and sustaining presence 
 now ; but He will come when He sees that you most need 
 Him." 
 
 " If ever poor creatures needed such a friend as you 
 have described, we need Him 'now," faltered Mrs. Poland, 
 turning her face toward them and then they knew that 
 she had heard all. 
 
 Amy sprang to her embrace, exclaiming, " Mother, is 
 it possible that we can find such a friend in our extremity ? " 
 
 " Amy, I am bewildered, I am overwhelmed."
 
 434 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Haldane carried little Bertha to her crib and covered 
 her with an afghan. Then coming to the lady's side he 
 took her hand and said gently, and yet with that quiet 
 firmness which does much to produce conviction : " Mrs. 
 Poland, before leaving your husband to his quiet sleep 
 we read words which Jesus Christ once spoke to a 
 despairing, grief-stricken woman. Take them now as if 
 spoken to you. ' Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrec- 
 tion and the life: he that believeth in Me, though he were 
 dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and be- 
 lieveth in Me shall never die.' As your husband said to 
 you, you will all surely meet again." 
 
 Then he lifted her hand to his lips in a caress that was 
 full of sympathy and respect, and silently left the room.
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 A MAN VERSUS A CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 Amy's sad presentiment was almost verified. She was 
 very ill, and for hours of painful uncertainty Haldane 
 watched over her and administered the remedies which 
 Dr. Orton left ; and indeed the doctor himself was never 
 absent very long, for his heart was bound up in the girl. 
 At last, after a wavering poise, the scale turned in favor 
 of life, and she began to slowly revive. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Poland was so weak that she could not raise 
 her head or hand, but, with her wistful, pathetic eyes, 
 followed every motion, for she insisted on having Amy 
 in the same room with herself. Aunt Saba, the old 
 negress, to whom Mr. Poland had given her freedom, 
 continued a faithful assistant. Bound to her mistress by 
 the stronger chain of gratitude and affection, she served 
 with fidelity in every way possible to her ; and she and 
 her husband were so old and humble that death seem- 
 ingly had forgotten them. 
 
 Before Amy was stricken down with the fever the look 
 of unutterable dread and anxiety that was so painful to 
 witness passed away, and gave place to an expression of 
 quiet serenity. 
 
 " I need no further argument," she had said to Hal- 
 dane ; " Christ has come across the waves of my trouble. 
 I am as sure of it as I am sure that you came to my aid. 
 I do not know whether mother or Bertha or I will survive, 
 but I believe that God's love is as great as His power, 
 and that in some way and at some time all will come out 
 for the best. I have written to my friend abroad and to 
 Auntie Arnot all about" it, and now I am simply waiting. 
 436
 
 436 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 O, Mr, Haldane, I am so happy to tell you," she had 
 added, " that I think mother is accepting the same faith, 
 slowly and in accordance with her nature, but surely 
 nevertheless. I am like father, quick and intense in my 
 feelings. I feel that which is false or that which is true, 
 rather than reason it out as mother does." 
 
 Aunt Saba and her husband managed to take care of 
 Bertha and keep her mind occupied ; but before Amy's 
 convalescence had proceeded very far the little girl was 
 suddenly prostrated by a most violent attack of the dis- 
 ease, and she withered before the hot fever like a fragile 
 flower in a simoom. Haldane went hastily for Dr. Orton, 
 but he gave scarcely a hope from the first. 
 
 During the night following the day on which she had 
 been stricken down a strange event occurred. ^ The 
 sultry heat had been follow^ed by a tropical thunder- 
 storm, which had gathered in the darkness, and often 
 gave to the midnight a momentary and brighter glare 
 than that of the previous noon. The child would start 
 as the flashes grew more intense, for they seemed to dis- 
 tress her very much. 
 
 As Haldane was lifting her to give her a drink he said : 
 " Perhaps Bertie will see papa very soon." 
 Hearing the Avord "papa," the child forgot her pain 
 for a moment and smiled. At that instant there was a 
 blinding flash of lightning, and the appalling thunder- 
 peal followed without any interval. 
 
 Both Mrs. Poland and Amy gave a faint and involun- 
 tary cry of alarm, but Haldane's eyes were fixed on the 
 little smiling face that he held so near to his own. The 
 smile did not fade. The old, perplexed expression of 
 
 ' It is stated on high medical authority that " all patients suffer 
 more during thunder-showers," and an instance is given of a 
 physician who was suffering from this fever, and who was 
 killed as instantly, by a vivid flash and loud report, as if he had 
 been struck by the lightning.
 
 A 31 AN VEESUS A CONNOISSEUR. 437 
 
 pain did not come back, and after a moment he sa'id 
 quietly and very gently : 
 
 " Bertie is with her father ; " and he Hfted her up and 
 carried her to her mother, and then to Amy, that they 
 might see the beautiful and smiling expression of the 
 child's face. 
 
 But their eyes were so blinded by tears, that they could 
 scarcely see the face from which all trace of suffering had 
 been banished almost as truly as from the innocent spirit. 
 
 Having laid her back in the crib, and arranged the 
 little form as if sleeping, he carried the crib, with Aunt 
 Saba's help, to the room where Mr. Poland had died. 
 Then he told the old negress to return and remain with 
 her mistress, and that he would watch over the body till 
 morning. 
 
 That quiet watch by the pure little child, with a trace 
 of heaven's own beauty on her face, was to Haldane 
 like the watch of the shepherds on the hillside near 
 Bethlehem. At times, in the deep hush that followed 
 the storm, he was almost sure that he heard, faint and 
 far away, angelic minstrelsy and song. 
 
 Haldane' s unusually healthful and vigorous constitution 
 had thus far resisted the infection, but after returning 
 from the sad duty of laying little Bertha's remains by 
 those of her father, he felt the peculiar languor which is 
 so often the precursor of the chill and subsequent fever. 
 Although he had scarcely hoped to escape an attack, he 
 had never before reahzed how^ disastrous it would be to 
 the very ones he had come to serve. Who was there to 
 take care of him ? Mrs. Poland was almost helpless from 
 nervous prostration. Amy required absolute quiet to 
 prevent the more fatal relapse, which is almost certain to 
 follow exertion made too early in convalescence. He 
 knew that if he were in the house she would make the 
 attempt to do something for him, and he also knew it 
 would be at the risk of her life. Old Aunt Saba was
 
 438 KNIGIir OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 worn out in her attendance on Bertha, Amy, and Mrs. 
 Poland. Her husband, and a stranger who had been at 
 last secured to assist him, were required in the household 
 duties. 
 
 He took his decision promptly, for he felt that he had 
 but brief time in which to act. Going to Mrs. Poland's 
 room, he said to her and Amy, 
 
 " I am glad to find you both so brave and doing as 
 well as you are on this sad, sad day. I do not think you 
 will take the disease, Mrs. Poland ; and you, Miss Amy^ 
 only need perfect quiet in order to get well. Please re- 
 member, as a great favor to me, how vitally important is 
 the tranquillity of mind and body that I am ever p.each- 
 ing to you, and don't do that which fatigues you in the 
 slightest degree, till conscious of your old strength. And 
 now I am going away for a little while. This is a time 
 when every man should be at his post of duty. I am 
 needed elsewhere, for I know of a case that requires im- 
 mediate attention. Please do not remonstrate," he said, 
 as they began to urge that he should take some rest ; 
 "my mission here has ended for the present and my 
 duty is elsewhere. We won't say good-by, for I shall 
 not be far away ;" and although he was almost faint 
 from weakness, his bearing was so decided and strongs 
 and he appeared so bent on departure, that they felt 
 that it would hardly be in good taste to say anything 
 more. 
 
 "We are almost beginning to feel that Mr. Haldane 
 belongs to us," said Amy to her mother afterward, " and 
 forget that he may be prompted by as strong a sense of 
 duty to others." 
 
 As Haldane was leaving the house Dr. Orton drove to 
 the door. Before he could alight the young man climbed 
 into his buggy with almost desperate haste. 
 
 "Drive toward the city," he said so decisively that 
 the doctor obeyed.
 
 A 31 AX VERSUS A CONNOISSEUE. 43i^ 
 
 "What's the matter, Haldane ? Speak, man; you 
 look sick." 
 
 " Take me to the city hospital. I am sick." 
 
 " T shall take you right back to Mrs. Poland's," said 
 the doctor, pulling up. 
 
 Haldane laid his hands on the reins, and then ex- 
 plained his fears and the motive for his action. 
 
 " God bless you, old fellow ; but you are right. Any 
 effort now would cost Amy her life, and she would make 
 it if you were there. But you are not going to the hos- 
 pital." 
 
 Dr. Orton's intimate acquaintance with the city en- 
 abled him to place Haldane in a comfortable room near 
 his own house, where he could give constant supervision 
 to his case. He also procured a good nurse, whose sole 
 duty was to take care of the young man. To the anx- 
 ious questioning of Mrs. Poland and Amy from time to 
 time, the doctor maintained the fiction, saying that Hal- 
 dane was watching a very important case under his 
 care ; " and you know his way," added the old gentle- 
 man, rubbing his hands, as if he were enjoying some- 
 thing internally, " he won't leave a case till I say it's 
 safe, even to visit you, of whom he speaks every chance 
 he gets ;" and thus the two ladies in their feeble state 
 were saved all anxiety. 
 
 They at length learned of the merciful ruse that had 
 been played upon them by the appearance of their friend 
 at their door in Dr. Orton's buggy. As the old physi- 
 cian helped his patient, w^ho was still rather weak, up the 
 steps, he said with his hearty laugh : 
 
 " Haldane has watched over that case, that he and I 
 told you of, long enough. We now turn the case over 
 to you. Miss Amy. But all he requires is good living, 
 and I'll trust to you for that. He's a trump, if he is a 
 Yankee. But drat him, I thought he'd spoil the joke by 
 dying, at one time."
 
 440 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 The sentiments that people Hke Mrs. Poland and her 
 daughter, Mrs. Arnot, and Laura, would naturally enter- 
 tain toward one who had served them as Haldane had 
 •done, and at such risk to himself, can be better imagined 
 than portrayed. They looked and felt infinitely more 
 than they were ever permitted to say, for any expression 
 of obligation was evidently painful to him. 
 
 He speedily gained his old vigor, and before the au- 
 tumn frosts put an end to the epidemic, was able to ren- 
 der Dr. Orton much valuable assistance. 
 
 Amy became more truly his sister than ever his own 
 had been to him. Her quick intuition soon discovered 
 his secret — even the changing expression of his eyes at 
 the mention of Laura's name would have revealed it to 
 her — but he would not let her speak on the subject. 
 ""She belongs to another," he said, "and although to 
 me she is the most beautiful and attractive woman in the 
 world, it must be my life-long effort not to think of her." 
 
 His parting from Mrs. Poland and Amy tested his self- 
 control severely. In accordance with her impulsive na- 
 ture, Amy put her arms about his neck as she said 
 brokenly : 
 
 "You were indeed God's messenger to us, and you 
 brought us life. As father said, we shall all meet again." 
 
 On his return, Mrs. Arnot's greeting was that of a 
 •mother; but there were traces of constraint in Laura's 
 manner. When she first met him she took his hand in a 
 strong, warm pressure, and said, with tears in her eyes : 
 
 " Mr. Haldane, I thank you for your kindness to Amy 
 and auntie as sincerely as if it had all been rendered to 
 me alone." 
 
 But after this first expression of natural feeling, Hal- 
 dane was almost tempted to believe that she shunned 
 meeting his eyes, avoided speaking to him, and even 
 tried to escape from his society, by taking Mr. Beau- 
 jmont's arm and strolhng off to some other apartment,
 
 A MAN VERSUS A CONNOISSEUR. 441 
 
 when he was calHng on Mrs. Arnot. And yet if this 
 were true, he was also made to feel that it resulted from 
 no lack of friendliness or esteem on her part. 
 
 " She fears that my old-time passion may revive, and 
 she would teach me to put a watch at the entrance of its 
 sepulchre," he at length concluded; "she little thinks 
 that my love, so far from being dead, is a chained giant 
 that costs me hourly vigilance to hold in life-long im- 
 prisonment." 
 
 But Laura understood him much better than he did her. 
 Her manner was the result of a straightforward effort 
 to be honest. Of her own free will, and without even 
 the slightest effort on the part of her uncle and aunt to 
 incline her toward the wealthy and distinguished Mr. 
 Beaumont, she had accepted all his attentions, and had 
 accepted the man himself. In the world's estimation she 
 would not have the slightest ground to find fault with 
 him, for, from the first, both in conduct and manner, he 
 had been irreproachable. 
 
 When the telegram which announced Mr. Poland's 
 death was received, he tried to comfort her by words- 
 that were so peculiarly elegant and somber, that, in spite 
 of Laura's wishes to think otherwise, they struck her like 
 an elegiac address that had been carefully prearranged 
 and studied ; and when the tidings of poor little Bertha's 
 death came, it would occur to Laura that Mr. Beaumont 
 had thought his first little address so perfect that he could 
 do no better than to repeat it, as one might use an appro- 
 priate burial service on all occasions. He meant to be 
 kind and considerate. He was "ready to do anything 
 in his power," as he often said. But what was in his 
 power ? As telegrams and letters came, telling of death,, 
 of desperate illness, and uncertain life, of death again, 
 of manly help, of woman-like self-sacrifice in the same 
 man, her heart began to beat in quick, short, passionate 
 throbs. But it would seem that nothing could ever dis-
 
 442 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 turb the even rhythm of Beaumont's pulse. He tried to 
 show his sympathy by turning his mind to all that was 
 mournful and somber in art and literature. One day he 
 brought to her from New York what he declared to be 
 the finest arrangement of dirge music for the piano ex- 
 tant, and she quite surprised him by declaring with sud- 
 den passion that she could not and would not play a 
 note of it. 
 
 In her deep sorrow and deeper anxiety, in her strange 
 and miserable unrest, which had its hidden root in a 
 cause not yet understood, she turned to him again and 
 again for sympathy, and he gave her abundant oppor- 
 tunity to seek it, for Laura was the most beautiful object 
 he had ever seen ; and therefore, to feast his eye and 
 gratify his ear, he spent much of his time with her ; so 
 much, indeed, that she often grew drearily weary of him. 
 But no matter when or how often she would look into 
 his face for quick, heartfelt appreciation, she saw with 
 instinctive certainty that, more than lover, more than 
 friend, and eventually, more than husband, he was, and 
 €ver would be, a connoisseur. When she smiled he 
 was admiring her, when she wept he was also admiring 
 her. Whatever she did or said was constantly being 
 looked at and studied from an esthetic stand-point by 
 this man, whose fastidious taste she had thus far satis- 
 fied. More than once she had found herself asking, 
 •*• Suppose I should lose my beauty, what would he do?" 
 and the instinctive answer of her heart was : " He would 
 honorably try to keep all his pledges, but would look the 
 other way." 
 
 Before she was aware of it, she had begun to compare 
 her affianced with Haldane, and she found that the one 
 was like a goblet of sweet, rich wine, that was already 
 nearly exhausted and cloying to her taste ; the other was 
 like a mountain spring, whose waters are pure, ever new, 
 iinfaihng, prodigally abundant, inspiring yet slaking thirst.
 
 A 3IAN VERSUS A CONNOISSEUR. 443 
 
 But she soon saw whither such comparisons were lead' 
 ing her, and recognized her danger and her duty. She 
 had phghted her faith to another, and he had given her 
 no good reason to break that faith. Laura had a con- 
 science, and she as resolutely set to work to shut out 
 Haldane from her heart, as he, poor man had tried to- 
 exclude her image, and from very much the same cause. 
 But the heart is a wayward organ and is often at sword' s- 
 point with both will and conscience, and frequently, in 
 spite of all that she could do, it would array Haldane on 
 the one side and Beaumont on the other, and so it would 
 eventually come to be, the man who loved her, versus 
 the connoisseur who admired her, but whose absorbing 
 passion for himself left no place for any other strong 
 affection.
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 EXIT OF LAURA'S FIRST KNIGHT. 
 
 Haldane was given but little time for quiet study, for, 
 before the year closed, tidings came from his mother, 
 who was then in Italy, that she was ill and wished to see 
 him. Poor Mrs. Haldane had at last begun to under- 
 stand her son's character better, and to realize that he 
 would retrieve the past. She also reproached herself 
 that she had not been more sympathetic and helpful to 
 him, and w^as not a little jealous that he should have 
 found better and more appreciative friends than herself. 
 And, at last, when she was taken ill, she longed to see 
 him, and he lost not a moment in reaching her side. 
 
 Her illness, however, did not prove very serious, and 
 she improved rapidly after a young gentleman appeared 
 who was so refined in his manners, so considerate and 
 deferential in his bearing toward her that she could 
 scarcely believe that he was the same with the wild, 
 wretched youth who had been in jail, and, what was al- 
 most as bad, who had worked in a mill. 
 
 Haldane made the most of his opportunities in seeing 
 •what was beautiful in nature and art while in the old 
 world, but his thoughts turned with increasing frequency 
 to his own land — not only because it contained the friends 
 he loved so well, but also because events were now rap- 
 idly culminating for that great struggle between the two 
 jarring sections that will eventually form a better and 
 closer union on the basis of a mutual respect, and a bet- 
 ter and truer knowledge of each other. 
 
 When Mrs. Haldane saw that her son was determined 
 to take part in the conflict, he began to seem to her more 
 hke his old unreasonable self. She feebly remonstrated 
 as a matter of course, and proved to her own satisfaction 
 that it was utter folly for a young man who had the en- 
 444
 
 EXIT OF LA UFA'S FIRST KNIGHT. 44S 
 
 joyment of such large wealth as her son to risk the loss 
 of every thing in the hardships and dangers of war. He 
 was as kind and considerate as possible, but she saw 
 from the old and well-remembered expression of his eyes 
 that he would carry out his own will nevertheless, and 
 therefore she and his sisters reluctantly returned with him. 
 
 Having safely installed them in their old home, and 
 proved by the aid of Dr. Marks and some other leading 
 citizens of his native city that they had no further oc- 
 casion to seclude themselves from the world, he returned 
 to Hillaton to aid in organizing a regiment that was being 
 recruited there, and in which Mr. Ivison had assured him 
 of a commission. By means of the acquaintances he 
 had rnade through his old mission class, he was able to- 
 secure enhstments rapidly, and although much of the 
 material that he brought in was unpromising in its first 
 appearance, he seemed to have the faculty of transform- 
 ing the slouching dilapidated fellows into soldiers, and it 
 passed into general remark that " Haldane's company 
 was the roughest to start with, and the best disciplined and 
 most soldierly of them all when ordered to the seat of war.'" 
 
 The colonelcy of the regiment was given to Mr. Beau- 
 mont, not only on account of his position, but also be- 
 cause of his large hberality in fitting it out. He took a 
 vast interest in the esthetic features of its equipment, 
 style of uniform, and hke matters, and he did most ex- 
 cellent service in insisting on neatness, good care of 
 weapons, and a soldier-like bearing from the first. 
 
 While active in this work he rose again in Laura's 
 esteem, for he seemed more manly and energetic than he 
 had shown himself to be before ; and what was still more 
 in his favor, he had less time for the indulgence of his 
 taste as a connoisseur with her fair but often weary face 
 as the object of contemplation. 
 
 She, with many others, visited the drill-ground almost 
 daily, and when she saw the tall and graceful form of
 
 446 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 Mr. Beaumont issuing from the colonel's tent, when she 
 saw him mount his superb white horse, which he man- 
 aged with perfect skill, when she saw the sun glinting on 
 his elegant sword and gold epaulettes, and heard his 
 sonorous orders to the men, she almost felt that all Hilla- 
 ton was right, and that she had reason to be proud of 
 him, and to be as happy as the envious belles of the city 
 deemed her to be. But in spite of herself, her eyes 
 would wander from the central figure to plain Captain 
 Haldane, who, ignoring the admiring throng, was giving 
 his whole attention to his duty. 
 
 Before she was aware, the thought began to creep into 
 her mind, however, that to one man these scenes were 
 military pageants, and to the other they meant stern and 
 uncompromising war. 
 
 This impression had speedy confirmation, for one even- 
 ing when both Mr. Beaumont and Haldane happened to 
 be present, Mrs. Arnot remarked in effect that her heart 
 misgave her when she looked into the future, and that 
 the prospect of a bloody war between people of one race 
 and faith was simply horrible. 
 
 "It will not be very bloody," remarked Mr. Beau- 
 mont, lightly. " After things have gone about so far the 
 politicians on both sides will step in and patch up a com- 
 promise. Our policy at the North is to make an impos- 
 ing demonstration. This will have the effect of bringing 
 the fire-eaters to their senses, and if this won't answer 
 we must get enough men together to walk right over the 
 South, and end the nonsense at once. I have traveled 
 through the South, and know that it can be done." 
 
 " Pardon me, Colonel," said Haldane, "but since we 
 are not on the drill-ground I have a right to differ with 
 you. I anticipate a very bloody, and, perhaps, a long 
 war. I have not seen so much of the South, but I have 
 seen something of its people. The greatest heroism I 
 «ver saw manifested in my life was by a young Southern
 
 EXIT OF LAURA'S FIRST KNIGHT. 447 
 
 girl, and if such are their women we shall find the men 
 foemen abundantly worthy of our steel. We shall in- 
 deed have to literally walk over them, that is, such of us 
 as are left and able to walk. I agree with Mrs. Arnot, 
 and I tremble for the future of my country." 
 
 Mr. Beaumont forgot himself for once so far as to say, 
 " Oh, if you find such cause for trembling — " but Laura's 
 indignant face checked further utterance. 
 
 " I propose to do my duty," said Haldane, with a quiet 
 smile, though a quick flush showed that he felt the slur, 
 " and it will be your duty. Colonel, to see that I do." 
 
 " You have taught us that the word duty means a great 
 deal to you, Egbert," said Mrs. Arnot, and then the mat- 
 ter dropped. But the animus of each man had been 
 quite clearly revealed, and the question would rise in 
 Laura's mind, "Does not the one belittle the occasion 
 because little himself? " Although she dreaded the com- 
 ing war inexpressibly, she took Haldane' s view of it. His 
 tribute to her Cousin Amy also touched a very tender chord. 
 
 On the ground of having secured so many recruits 
 Mr. Ivison urged that Haldane should have the rank of 
 major, but at that time those things were controlled largely 
 by political influence and favoritism, and there were still 
 not a few in Hillaton who both thought and spoke of the 
 young man's past record as a good reason why he should 
 not have any rank at all. He quietly took what was 
 given him and asked for nothing more. 
 
 All now know that Mr. Beaumont's view was not cor- 
 rect, and as the conflict thickened and deepened that ele- 
 gant gentleman became more and more disgusted. Not 
 that he lacked personal courage, but. as he often re- 
 marked, it was the " horrid style of living " that he could 
 not endure. He could not find an esthetic element in 
 the blinding dust or unfathomable mud of Virginia. 
 
 As was usually the case, there was in the regiment a 
 soldier gifted with the power and taste for letter-writing.
 
 448 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 and he kept the local papers quite well posted concern- 
 ing affairs in the regiment. One item concerning Beau- 
 mont will indicate the condition of his mind. After de- 
 scribing the "awful " nature of the roads and weather, 
 the writer added, " The Colonel looks as if in a chronic 
 state of disgust." 
 
 Suddenly the regiment was ordered to the far South- 
 west. This was more than Beaumont could endure, for 
 in his view life in that region would be a burden under 
 any circumstances. He coolly thought the matter over, 
 and concluded that he would rather go home, marry 
 Laura, and take a tour in Europe, and promptly executed 
 the first part of his plan by resigning on account of ill- 
 health. He had a bad cold, it is true, which had chiefly 
 gone to his head and made him very uncomfortable, and 
 so inflamed his nose that the examining physician mis- 
 judged the exemplary gentleman, recommending that his 
 resignation be accepted, more from the fear that his hab- 
 its were bad than from any other cause. But by the 
 time he reached Hillaton his nose was itself again, and 
 he as elegant as ever. The political major had long since 
 disappeared, and so Haldane started for his distant field 
 of duty as lieutenant-colonel. 
 
 The regimental letter-writer chronicled this promotion 
 in the Hillaton Courier with evident satisfaction. 
 
 " Lieut.-Col. Haldane," he wrote, " is respected by all and 
 liked by the majority. He keeps us rigidly to our duty, but is 
 kind and considerate nevertheless. He is the most useful ofificer 
 I ever heard of. Now he is chaplain and again he is surgeon. 
 He coaxes the money away from the men and sends it home to 
 their families, otherwise much of it would be lost in gambling. 
 Many a mother and wife in Hillaton hears from the absent 
 oftener because the Colonel urges the boys to write, and writes 
 for those who are unable. To give you a sample of the man I 
 will tell you what I saw not long ago. The roads were horrible 
 as usual, and some of the men were getting played out on the 
 inarch. The first thing I knew a sick man was on the Major's 
 horse (he was Major then), and he was trudging along in the
 
 EXIT OF LAURA'S FIRST KNIGHT. 449 
 
 mud with the rest of us, and carrying the muskets of three other 
 men who were badly used up.i We want the people of Hilla- 
 ton to understand, that if any of us get back we won't hear 
 anything more against Haldane. Nice, pretty fellows, who 
 don't like to get their boots muddy, as our ex-Colonel for in- 
 stance, may be more to their taste, but they ain't to ours." 
 
 Laura read this letter with cheeks that reddened with 
 shame and then grew very pale. 
 
 " Auntie," she said, showing it to Mrs. Arnot, " I can- 
 not marry that man. I would rather die first." 
 
 " I do not wonder that you feel so," replied Mrs. Arnot 
 emphatically. " With all his wealth and culture I neither 
 would nor could marry him, and would tell him so. I 
 have felt sure that you would come to this conclusion, 
 but I wished your own heart and conscience to decide the 
 matter." 
 
 But before Laura could say to Mr, Beaumont that which 
 she felt she must, and yet which she dreaded, for his sake, 
 to speak, a social earthquake took place in Hillaton. 
 
 Mr. Arnot was arrested ! But for the promptness of 
 his friends to give bail for his appearance, he would have 
 been taken from his private office to prison as poor Hal- 
 dane had been years before. 
 
 It would be wearisome to tell the long story of his 
 financial distress, which he characteristically kept con- 
 cealed from his wife. Experiences like his are only too 
 common. With his passion for business he had extended 
 it to the utmost Hmit of his capital. Then came a time 
 of great depression and contraction. Prompted by a 
 will that had never been thwarted, and a passion for 
 routine which could endure no change, he made Hercu- 
 
 ^ I cannot refrain here from paying a tribute to my old school- 
 mate and friend, Major James Cromwell, of the 124th New 
 York Volunteers whom I have seen plodding along in the mud 
 in a November storm, a sick soldier riding lus horse, while he 
 carried the accoutrements of other men who were giving out 
 from exhaustion. Major Cromwell was killed while leading a 
 charge at the battle of Gettysburg.
 
 450 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 lean effort to keep every thing moving on with mechan- 
 ical regularity. His strong business foresight detected 
 the coming change for the better in the business world, 
 and with him it was only a question of bridging over the 
 intervening gulf. He sank his own property in his effort 
 to do this ; then the property of his wife and Laura, which 
 he held in trust. Then came the great temptation of his 
 life. He was joint trustee of another very large prop- 
 erty, and the co-executor was in Europe, and would be 
 absent for years. In order to use some of the funds of 
 this property it was necessary to have the signature of this 
 gentleman. With the infatuation of those who dally 
 with this kind of temptation, Mr. Arnot felt sure that he 
 could soon make good all that he should use in his pres- 
 ent emergency, and therefore, forged the name of the 
 co-trustee. The gentleman returned from Europe unex- 
 pectedly, and the crime was discovered and speedily 
 proved. 
 
 It was now that Mrs. Arnot proved what a noble and 
 womanly nature she possessed. Without palliating his 
 fault, she ignored the whole scoffing, chattering world, 
 and stood by her husband with as wifely devotion as if 
 his crime had been misfortune, and he himself had been 
 the affectionate considerate friend that she had believed he 
 would be, when as a blushing maiden she had accepted 
 the hand that had grown so hard, and cold, and heavy. 
 
 Mr. Beaumont was stunned and bewildered. At first 
 he scarcely knew what to do, although his sagacious 
 father and mother told him very plainly to break the 
 engagement at once. But the trouble with Mr. Beau- 
 mont upon this occasion was that he was a man of honor, 
 and for once he almost regretted the fact. But since he 
 was, he believed that there was but one course open for 
 him. Although Laura was now penniless, and the same 
 almost as the daughter of a man who would soon be in 
 State prison, he had promised to marry her. She must
 
 EXIT OF LAURA'S FIBST KXIGHT. 451 
 
 become the mistress of the ancient and aristocratic Beau- 
 mont mansion. 
 
 He braced himself, as had been his custom when a 
 battle was in prospect, and went down to the beautiful 
 villa which would be Laura's home but a few days longer. 
 
 As he entered, she saw that he was about to perform 
 the one heroic act of his life, but she was cruel enough 
 to prevent even that one, and so reduced his whole ca- 
 reer to one consistently elegant and polished surface. 
 
 He had taken her hand, and was about to address her in 
 the most appropriate language, and with all the dignity of 
 self-sacrifice, when she interrupted him by saying briefly : 
 
 "Mr. Beaumont, please listen to me first. Before the 
 most unexpected event occurred which has made so great 
 a change in my fortunes, and I may add, in so many of 
 my friends, I had decided to say to you in all sincerity 
 and kindness that I could not marry you. I could not 
 give you that love which a wife ought to give to a hus- 
 band. I now repeat my decision still more emphatically." 
 
 Mr. Beaumont was again stunned and bewildered. A 
 woman declining to marry him ! 
 
 "Can nothing change your decision?" he faltered^ 
 fearing that something might. 
 
 " Nothing," she coldly replied, and with an involuntary 
 expressionof contempt hovering around herflexible mouth. 
 
 " But what will you do? " he asked, prompted by not 
 a little curiosity. 
 
 " Support myself by honest work," was her quiet but 
 very decisive answer. 
 
 Mr. Beaumont now felt that there was nothing more to 
 be done but to make a httle elegant farewell address, and 
 depart, and he would make it in spite of all that she 
 could do. 
 
 The next thing she heard of him was that he had started 
 on a tour of Europe, and, no doubt, in his old character 
 of a connoisseur, whose judgment few dared to dispute.
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 
 
 The processes of law were at length complete, and 
 Mr. Arnot found himself \n a prison cell, with the pros- 
 pect that years must elapse before he would receive a free- 
 dom that now was dreaded almost more than his forced 
 seclusion. After his conviction he had been taken from 
 Hillaton to a large prison of the State, in a distant city. 
 
 " I shall follow you, Thomas, as soon as I can com- 
 plete such arrangements as are essential," Mrs. Arnot 
 had said, "and will remain as near to you as I can. 
 Indeed, it \vill be easier for Laura and me to commence 
 our new life there than here." 
 
 The man had at last begun to realize the whole truth. 
 True to his nature, he thought of himself first, and saw 
 that his crime, like a great black hand, had dragged him 
 down from his proud eminence of power and universal 
 respect, away from his beloved business, and had shut 
 him up in this narrow stony sepulchre, for what better 
 was his prison cell than a tomb to a man with his tireless 
 mind ? The same mind which like a giant had carried 
 its huge burden every day, was still his; but now there 
 was nothing for it to do. And yet it would act, for con- 
 stant mental action had become a necessity from a life- 
 time of habit. Heretofore his vast business taxed every 
 faculty to the utmost. He had to keep his eye on all the 
 great markets of the world ; he had to follow politicians, 
 diplomats, and monarchs into their secret councils, and 
 guess at their policy in order to shape his own business 
 policy. His interests were so large and far reaching that 
 it had been necessary for him to take a glance over the 
 world before he could properly direct his affairs from his 
 452
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 453 
 
 private office. P'or years he had been commanding a 
 small army of men, and with consummate skill and con- 
 stant thought he had arrayed the industry of his army 
 against the labors of like armies under the leadership of 
 other men in competition with himself. His mind had 
 learned to flash with increasing speed and accuracy to one 
 and another of all these varied interests. But now the 
 great fabric of business and wealth, which he had built 
 by a lifetime of labor, had vanished hke a dream, and 
 nothing remained but the mind that had constructed it. 
 
 " Ah ! " he groaned again and again, " why could not 
 mind and memory perish also?" 
 
 But they remained, and were the only possessions left 
 of his great wealth. 
 
 Then he began to think of his wife and Laura. He 
 had beggared them, and what was far worse, he had 
 darkened their lives with the shadow of his own dis- 
 grace. Wholly innocent as they were, they must suffer 
 untold wretchedness through his act. In his view he was 
 the cause of the broken engagement between his niece 
 and the wealthy Mr. Beaumont, and now he saw that 
 there was nothing before the girl but a dreary effort 
 to gain a livelihood by her own labor, and this effort 
 rendered almost hopeless by the reflected shame of his 
 crime. 
 
 His wife also was growing old and feeble. At last he 
 reahzed he had a wife such as is given to but few men — 
 a woman who was great enough to be tender and sym- 
 pathetic through all the awful weeks that had elapsed 
 since the discovery of his crime — a woman who could 
 face what she saw before her and utter no words of re- 
 pining or reproach. 
 
 He now saw how cold and hard and unappreciative he 
 had been toward her in the days of his prosperity, and 
 he cursed himself and his unutterable folly. 
 
 Thus his great powerful mind turned in vindictive rage
 
 454 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 against itself. Memory began to show him with mocking 
 finger and bitter gibes where he might have acted more 
 wisely in his business, more wisely in his social relations, 
 and especially more wisely and humanely, to say the 
 least, in his own home. It seemed to take a fiendish de- 
 light in telling him how every thing might have been dif- 
 ferent, and how he, instead of brooding in a prison cell, 
 might have been the most honored, useful, wealthy, and 
 happy man in Hillaton. 
 
 Thus he was tortured until physical exhaustion brought 
 him a brief respite of sleep. But the next day it was the 
 same wretched round of bitter memories and vain but 
 torturing activity of mind. Day after day passed and he 
 grew haggard under his increasing mental distress. His 
 mind was like a great driving wheel, upon which all the 
 tremendous motive power is turned without cessation, 
 but for which there is nothing to drive save the man him- 
 self, and seemingly it would drive him mad. 
 
 At last he said to himself, " I cannot endure this. For 
 my own sake, for the sake of my wife and Laura, it were 
 better that an utter blank should take the place of 
 Thomas Arnot. I am, and ever shall be, only a burden 
 to them. I am coming to be an intolerable burden to 
 myself." 
 
 The thought of suicide, once entertained, grew rapidly 
 in favor, and at last it be<^^»r»e only a question how he 
 could carry out his dark purpose. With this definite 
 plan before him he grew calmer. At last he had some- 
 thing to ^0 in the future, and terrible memory must sus- 
 pend for a time its scorpion lash while he thought how 
 best to carry out his plan. 
 
 The suicide about to take the risk of endless suffering 
 is usually desirous that the intervening moments of his 
 " taking off" should be as painless as possible, and Mr. 
 Arnot began to think how he could make his exit momen- 
 tary. But his more tranquil mood, the result of having-
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 45J 
 
 some definite action before him, led to sleep, and the 
 long night passed in unconsciousness, the weary body 
 clogging the wheels of conscious thought. 
 
 The sun was shining when he awoke ; but with return- 
 ing consciousnesss came memory and pain, and the old 
 cowardly desire to escape all the consequences of his sin 
 by death. He vowed he would not live to see another 
 day, and once more he commenced brooding over the 
 one question, how he would die. As he took up this 
 question where he had dropped it the previous night, the 
 thought occurred to him what a long respite he had had 
 from pain. Then like a flash of lightning came another 
 thought : 
 
 " Suppose by my self-destroying act I pass into a con- 
 dition of life in which there is no sleep, and memory can 
 torture without cessation, without respite ? True, I have 
 tried to believe there is no future hfe, but am I sure of 
 it? Here I can obtain a httle rest. For hours I have 
 been unconscious, through the weight of the body upon 
 my spirit. How can I be sure that the spirit cannot exist 
 separately and suffer just the same? I am not suffering 
 now through my body, and have not been through all 
 these terrible days. My body is here in this cell, inert 
 and motionless, painless, while in my mind I am endur- 
 ing the torments of the damned. The respite from suf- 
 fering that I have had has come through the weariness 
 of my body, and here I am planning to cast down the 
 one barrier that perhaps saves me from an eternity of 
 torturing thought and memory." 
 
 He w^as appalled at the bare possibility of such a 
 future ; reason told him that such a future was probable, 
 and conscience told him that it was before him in verita- 
 ble truth. He felt that wherever he carried memory and 
 his present character he would be most miserable, 
 whether it were in Dante's Inferno, Milton's Paradise, or 
 the heaven or hell of the Bible.
 
 456 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 There was no more thought of suicide. Indeed, he 
 shrank from death with inexpressible dread. 
 
 Slowly his thoughts turned to his wife, the woman who 
 had been so true to him, the one human being of all the 
 world who now stood by him. She might help him in 
 his desperate strait. She seemed to have a principle 
 within her soul which sustained her, and which might 
 sustain him. At any rate, he longed to see her once 
 more, and ask her forgiveness in deep contrition for his 
 base and life-long failure to "love, honor, and cherish 
 her," as he had promised at God's altar and before many 
 witnesses. 
 
 The devoted wife came and patiently entered on her 
 ministry of love and Christian faith, and out of the chaos 
 of the fallen man of iron and stone there gradually 
 emerged a new man, who first became in Christ's ex- 
 pressive words " a little child " in spiritual things, that he 
 might grow naturally and in the symmetry of the enduring 
 manhood which God designs to perfect in the coming ages. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's sturdy integrity led her to give up every 
 thing to her husband's creditors, and she came to the 
 city of her new abode wherein the prison was located al- 
 most penniless. But she brought letters from Dr. Bar- 
 stow, Mr. Ivison, and other Christian people of Hillaton. 
 These were presented at a church of the denomination to 
 which she belonged, and all she asked was some em- 
 ployment by which she and Laura could support them- 
 selves. These letters secured confidence at once. There 
 was no mystery — nothing concealed — and, although so 
 shadowed by the disgrace of another, the bearing of the 
 ladies inspired respect and won sympathy. A gentleman 
 connected with the church gave Laura the position of 
 saleswoman in his bookstore, and to Mrs. Arnot's little 
 suburban cottage of only three rooms kind and interested 
 ladies brought sewing and fancy-work. Thus they were 
 provided for, as God's people ever are in some way.
 
 OTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 457 
 
 Mrs. Arnot had written a long letter to Haldane before 
 leaving Hillaton, giving a full account of their troubles, 
 with one exception. At Laura's request she had not 
 mentioned the broken engagement with Beaumont. 
 
 " If possible, I wish to see him myself before he 
 knows," she had said. "At least, before any corre- 
 spondence takes place between us, I wish to look into 
 his eyes, and if I see the faintest trace of shrinking from 
 me there, as I saw it in Mr. Beaumont's eyes, I will 
 never marry him, truly as I love him," 
 
 Mrs. Arnot' s face had lighted up with its old-time ex- 
 pression, as she said : 
 
 " Laura, don't you know Egbert Haldane better than 
 that?" 
 
 "I can't help it," she had replied with a troubled 
 brow ; " the manner of nearly every one has changed 
 so greatly that I must see him first." 
 
 Haldane did not receive Mrs. Arnot's first letter. He 
 was at sea wath his regiment, on his way to the far South- 
 west, when the events in which he would have been so 
 deeply interested began to occur. After reaching his 
 new scene of duty, there were constant alterations of 
 march and battle. In the terrible campaign that fol- 
 lowed, the men of the army he was acting with were 
 decimated, and officers dropped out fast. In conse- 
 quence, Haldane, who received but two slight wounds, 
 that did not disable him, was promoted rapidly. The 
 colonel of the regiment was killed soon after their arrival, 
 and from the command of the regiment he rose, before 
 the campaign was over, to command a brigade, and then 
 a division ; and he performed his duties so faithfully and 
 ably that he was confirmed in this position. 
 
 Mrs. Arnot's first letter had followed him around for a 
 time, and then was lost, like so many others in that time 
 of dire confusion. Her second letter after long delay 
 reached him, but it was very brief and hurried, and re-
 
 458 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, 
 
 ferred to troubles that he did not understand. From 
 members of his old regiment, however, rumors reached 
 him of some disaster to Mr. Arnot, and wrong-doing on 
 his part, which had led to imprisonment. 
 
 Haldane was greatly shocked at the bare possibility of 
 such events, and wrote a most sympathetic letter to Mrs, 
 Arnot, which never reached her. She had received some 
 of his previous letters, but not this one. 
 
 By the time the campaign was over one of Haldane's 
 wounds began to trouble him very much, and his health 
 seemed generally broken down from exposure and over- 
 exertion. As a leave of absence was offered him, he 
 availed himself of it and took passage to New York. 
 
 Three or four letters from his mother had reached him, 
 but that lady's causeless jealousy of Mrs. Arnot had 
 grown to such proportions that she never mentioned her 
 old friend's name. 
 
 The long days of the homeward voyage were passed 
 by Haldane in vain conjecture. Of one thing he felt 
 •quite sure, and that v^-as that Laura was by this time, or 
 soon would be, Mrs. Beaumont ; and now that the ex- 
 citement of military service was over, the thought rested 
 on him with a weight that was almost crushing. 
 
 One evening Mr, Growther was dozing as usual be- 
 tween his cat and dog, when some one lifted the latch 
 and walked in without the ceremony of knocking. 
 
 " Look here, stranger, where' s yer manners ? " snarled 
 the old gentleman. Then catching a glimpse of the well- 
 remembered face, though now obscured by a tremendous 
 beard, he started up, exclaiming, 
 
 "Lord a* massy! 'tain't you, is it? And you com- 
 pared yourself with that little, peaked-faced chap that's 
 around just the same — you with shoulders as broad as 
 them are, and two stars on 'em too ! " 
 
 The old man nearly went beside himself with joy. He 
 gave the cat and dog each a vigorous kick, and told
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 459 
 
 them to ' ' wake up and see if they could beheve their 
 eyes." 
 
 It was some time before Haldane could get him 
 quieted down so as to answer all the questions that he 
 was longing to put ; but at last he drew out the story in 
 full of Mr. Arnot's forgery and its consequences. 
 
 " Has Mr. Beaumont married Miss Romeyn ? " at last 
 he faltered. 
 
 " No ; I reckon not," said Mr. Growther dryly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Haldane sharply. 
 
 " Well, all I know is that he didn't marry her, and she 
 ain't the kind of a girl to marry him, whether he would 
 or no, and so they ain't married." 
 
 "The infernal scoundrel!" thundered Haldaner 
 springing to his feet. " The — " 
 
 "Hold on!" cried Mr. Growther. "Oh, Lord a' 
 massy ! I half beheve he's got to swearin' down in the 
 war. If he's backslid agin, nothin' but my little, peaked- 
 faced chap will ever bring him around a nuther time." 
 
 Haldane was stalking up and down the room in strong 
 excitement and quite obhvious of Mr. Growther' s per- 
 plexity. 
 
 "The unutterable fool!" he exclaimed, "to part 
 from such a woman as Laura Romeyn for any cause save 
 death." 
 
 "Well, hang it all! if he's a fool that's his business. 
 What on 'arth is the matter with you? I ain't used to 
 havin' bomb-shells go off right under my nose as you be, 
 and the way you are explodin' round kinder takes away 
 my breath." 
 
 " Forgive me, my old friend ; but I never had a shot 
 strike quite as close as this. Poor girl ! poor girl ! What 
 a prospect she had a few months since. True enough, 
 Beaumont was never a man to my taste ; but a woman 
 sees no faults in the man she loves ; and he could have 
 given her every thing that her cultivated taste could wish
 
 460 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 for. Poor girl, she must be broken-hearted with all this 
 trouble and disappointment." 
 
 " If I was you, I'd go and see if she was," said Mr. 
 Growther, with a shrewd twinkle in his eyes. "I've 
 heerd tell of hearts bein' mended in my day." 
 
 Haldane looked at him a moment, and, as he caught 
 his old friend's meaning, he brought his hand down on 
 the table with a force that made every thing in the old 
 kitchen ring again. 
 
 " O Lord a' massy ! " ejaculated Mr. Growther, hopping 
 half out of his chair. 
 
 " Mr. Growther," said Haldane, starting up, " I came 
 to have a very profound respect for your sagacity and 
 wisdom years ago, but to-night you have surpassed 
 Solomon himself. I shall take your most excellent advice 
 at once and go and see." 
 
 " Not to-night — " 
 
 "Yes, I can yet catch the owl train to-night. Good- 
 by for a short time." 
 
 " No wonder he took the rebs' works, if he went for 'em 
 like that," chuckled Mr. Growther, as he composed him- 
 self after the excitement of the unexpected visit. " Now 
 I know what made him look so long as if something was 
 a-gnawin' at his heart ; so I'm a-thinkin' there'll be two 
 hearts mended." 
 
 Haldane reached the city in which Mrs. Arnot resided 
 early in the morning, and as he had no clue to her resi- 
 dence, he felt that his best chance of hearing of her 
 would be at the prison itself, for he knew well that she 
 would seek either to see or learn of her husband's wel- 
 fare almost daily. In answer to his inquiries, he was told 
 that she would be sure to come to the prison at such an 
 hour in the evening, since that was her custom. 
 
 He must get through the day the best he could, and so 
 strolled off to the business part of the city, where was 
 located the leading hotel, and was followed by curious
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 461 
 
 eyes and surmises. IMajor-generals were not in the habit 
 of inquiring at the prison after convicts' wives. 
 
 As he passed a bookstore, it occurred to him that an 
 exciting story would help kill time, and he sauntered iw 
 and commenced looking over the latest publications that 
 were seductively arranged near the door. 
 
 " I'll go to breakfast now, Miss," said the junior clerk 
 who swept the store. 
 
 "Thank you. Oh, go quickly," murmured Laura 
 Romeyn to herself, as with breathless interest she watched 
 the unconscious officer, waiting till he should look up and 
 recognize her standing behind a counter. She was 
 destined to have her wish in very truth, for when he saw 
 her he would be so surely off his guard from surprise that 
 she could see into the very depths of his heart. 
 
 Would he never look up? She put her hand to her 
 side, for anticipation was so intense as to become a pain. 
 She almost panted from excitement. This was the su- 
 preme moment of her life, but the very fact of his coming 
 to this city promised well for the hope which fed her life. 
 
 " Ah, he is reading. The thought of some stranger 
 holds him, while my intense thoughts and feelings no 
 more affect him than if I were a thousand miles away. 
 How strong and manly he looks ! How well that uniform 
 becomes him, though evidently worn and battle-stained ! 
 Ah ! two stars upon his shoulder ! Can it be that he has 
 won such high rank? What will he think of poor me, 
 selling books for bread ? Egbert Haldane, beware ! If 
 you shrink from me now, even in the expression of your 
 eye, I stand aloof from you forever." 
 
 The man thus standing on the brink of fate, read 
 leisurely on, smiling at some quaint fancy of the author, 
 who had gained his attention for a moment. 
 
 " Heigh ho ! " he said at last, " this stealing diversion 
 from a book unbought is scarcely honest, so I will — " 
 
 The book dropped from his hands, and he passed his
 
 462 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 hands across his eyes as if to brush away a film. Then 
 his face hghted up with all the noble and sympathetic 
 feeling that Laura had ever wished or hoped to see, and 
 he sprang impetuously toward her. 
 
 "Miss Romeyn," he exclaimed. "Oh, this is better 
 than I hoped." 
 
 " Did you hope to find me earning my bread in this 
 humble way ? " she faltered, deliciously conscious that he 
 was almost crushing her hand in a grasp that was all too 
 friendly. 
 
 " I was hoping to ^nd yotc — and Mrs. Arnot," he added 
 with a sudden deepening of color. " I thought a long 
 •day must elapse before I could learn of your residence." 
 
 " Do you know all? " she asked, very gravely. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Romeyn," he replied with moistening 
 «yes, " I know all. Perhaps my past experience enables 
 me to sympathize with you more than others can. But 
 be that as it may, I do give you the whole sympathy of 
 my heart ; and for this brave effort to win your own bread 
 I respect and honor you more, if possible, than I did when 
 you were in your beautiful home at Hillaton." 
 
 Laura's tears were now falling fast, but she was smiling 
 nevertheless, and she said, hesitatingly, 
 
 " I do not consider myself such a deplorable object 
 of sympathy ; I have good health, a kind employer, 
 enough to live upon, and a tolerably clear conscience. 
 Of course I do feel deeply for auntie and uncle, and yet 
 I think auntie is happier than she has been for many 
 years. If all had remained as it was at Hillaton, the ice 
 around uncle's heart would have grown harder and 
 thicker to the end ; now it is melting away, and auntie's 
 thoughts reach so far beyond time and earth, that she is 
 forgetting the painful present in thoughts of the future." 
 
 "I have often asked myself," exclaimed Haldane, 
 " could God have made a nobler woman ? Ah ! Miss 
 Laura, you do not know how much I owe to her."
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 463 
 
 *' You have taught us that God can make noble men 
 also." 
 
 " I have merely done my duty," he said, with a care- 
 less gesture. "When can I see Mrs. Arnot?" 
 
 "I can't go home till noon, but I think I can direct 
 you to the house." 
 
 " Can I not stay and help you sell books ? Then I can 
 go home with you." 
 
 "A major-general behind the counter selling books 
 would make a sensation in town, truly." 
 
 " If the people were of my way of thinking, Miss Laura 
 Romeyn selling books would make a far greater sen- 
 sation." 
 
 " Very few are of your way of thinking, Mr. Haldane." 
 
 " I am heartily glad of it," he ejaculated. 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " Pardon me. Miss Romeyn," he said with a deep 
 flush, " you do not understand what I mean." Then he 
 burst out impetuously, " Miss Laura, I cannot school my- 
 self into patience. I have been in despair so many 
 years that since I now dare to imagine that there is a 
 bare chance for me, I cannot wait decorously for some 
 fitting occasion. But if you can give me even the faint- 
 est hope I will be patience and devotion itself." 
 
 "Hope of what?" said Laura, faintly turning away 
 her face. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Laura, I asked too much," he answered 
 sadly. 
 
 "You have not asked anything very definitely, Mr. 
 Haldane," she faltered. 
 
 " I ask for the privilege of trying to win you as my 
 wife." 
 
 "Ah, Egbert," she cried, joyously, " you have stood 
 the test ; for if you had shrunk, even in your thoughts, 
 from poor, penniless Laura Romeyn, with her uncle in 
 yonder prison, you might have tried in vain to win me."
 
 464 KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " God knows I did not shrink," he said eagerly, and 
 reaching out his hand across the counter. 
 
 " I know it too," she said shyly. 
 
 " Laura, all that I am, or ever can be, goes with that 
 hand." 
 
 She put her hand in his, and looking into his face with 
 an expression which he had never seen before, she said : 
 
 "Egbert, I have loved you ever since you went, as a 
 true knight, to the aid of Cousin Amy." 
 
 And thus they plighted their faith to each other across 
 the counter, and then he came around on her side. 
 
 We shall not attempt to portray the meeting between 
 Mrs. Arnot and one whom she had learned to look upon 
 as a son, and who loved her with an affection that had 
 its basis in the deepest gratitude. 
 
 Our story is substantially ended. It only remains to 
 be said that Haldape, by every means in his power, 
 showed gentle and forbearing consideration for his 
 mother's feelings, and thus she was eventually led to be 
 reconciled to his choice, if not to approve of it. 
 
 •'After all it is just like Egbert," she said to her 
 daughters, " and we will have to make the best of it." 
 
 Haldane's leave of absence passed all too quickly, and 
 in parting he said to Laura : 
 
 "You think I have faced some rather difficult duties 
 before, but there was never one that could compare with 
 leaving you for the uncertainties of a soldier's hfe." 
 
 But he went nevertheless, and remained till the end of 
 the war. 
 
 Not long after going to the front he was taken prisoner 
 in a disastrous battle, but he found means of informing 
 his old friend Dr. Orton of the fact. Although the doc- 
 tor was a rebel to the back-bone, he swore he would 
 "break up the Confederacy" if Haldane was not re- 
 leased, and through his influence the young man was 
 soon brought to his friend's hospitable home, where he
 
 ANOTHER KNIGHT APPEARS. 465 
 
 found Amy installed as housekeeper. She was now 
 Mrs. Orton, for her lover returned as soon as it was safe 
 for him to do so after the end of the epidemic. He was 
 now away in the army, and thus Haldane did not meet 
 him at that time ; but later in the conflict Colonel Orton 
 .n turn became a prisoner of war, and Haldane wms able 
 to return the kindness which he received on this occasion. 
 Mrs. Poland resided with Amy, and they both were most 
 nappy to learn that they would eventually have a rela- 
 tive as well as friend in their captive, for never was a 
 prisoner of war made more of than Haldane up to the 
 time of his exchange. 
 
 Years have passed. The agony of the war has long 
 been over. Not only peace but prosperity is once more 
 prevailing throughout the land. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Arnot reside in their old home, but Mrs. 
 Egbert Haldane is its mistress. Much effort was made 
 to induce Mr. Growther to take up his abode there also, 
 but he would not leave the quaint old kitchen, where he 
 said "the little peaked-faced chap was sittin' beside him 
 all the time." 
 
 At last he failed and was about to die. Looking up 
 into Mrs. Arnot's face, he said : 
 
 " I don't think a bit better of myself. I'm twisted all 
 out o' shape. But the little chap has taught me how the 
 Good Father will receive me." 
 
 The wealthiest people of Hillaton are glad to obtain 
 the services of Dr. Haldane, and to pay for them ; they 
 are glad to welcome him to their homes when his busy 
 life permits him to come ; but the proudest citizen must 
 wait when Christ, in the person of the poorest and low- 
 liest, sends word to this knightly man, " I am sick or in 
 prison ; " "I am naked or hungry." 
 
 THE END.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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