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 From 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 California State Library 
 
 SECT 
 all boo 
 of the 
 the ses 
 from tl 
 
 benefit . c niornrv. uirr-e tinn-s tin- vulue thereof; and before 
 the Controller shall issue his warrant in favor of any member or 
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 ance, or salary, he shall be satisfied that such member or officer 
 has returned all books taken out of the Library by him, and has 
 settled all accounts for injuring such books or otherwise. 
 
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 and at any time by the Governor and the officers of the Executive 
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 the seat of government, the Justices of the Supreme Court, the 
 Attorney-General, and the Trustees of the Library.
 
 BY AMANDA M. DOUGLAS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "INTRUST," "STEPHEN DANE," "CLAUDIA," ETC. 
 
 "77;,? man is the spirit he worker in; not what he did, but 
 what he became.'" CARLYLE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 SHELDON & COMPANY. 
 
 1870.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 18TO, 
 
 BY SHELDON & CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Stereotyped by LITTLE, BKHNIK & Co., 
 
 M5 and 647 Broadway, N. T.
 
 TO 
 FRIEND AND COUSIN, 
 
 HARVEY WHITFIELD DOUGLAS. 
 
 WOODSIDE, 1870. ,. 
 
 932662
 
 ACTION IS TRANSITORY A STEP, A BLOW, 
 
 THB MOTION OP A MUSCLE TUIS WAT OB THAT 
 
 'TIS DONE ; AND IN THB AFTER VACANCY 
 
 WE WONDEB AT OURSELVES LIKE MEN BKTRATED. 
 
 BUFFERING IS PERMANENT, OBSCURE, AND DARK, 
 
 AND HAS THE NATURE OF INFINITY. 
 
 WOBDSWOBTH. 
 
 THE GOOD WANT POWER, BUT TO WEEP BARREN TEARS, 
 TUE POWERFUL GOODNESS WANT, WORSE NEED FOR THEM! 
 THE WISE WANT LOVE, AND THOSE WHO LOVE WANT WISDOM, 
 AND ALL BEST THINGS ABB THUS CONFUSED TO ILL. 
 
 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 
 
 TWO SEVERAL LOVERS BUILT TWO SEVERAL CITIES. THE LOVE OF GOD BUILDETH 
 A JERUSALEM; THE LOVE OF THE WORLD BUILDETH A BABYLON. LET EACH ONE 
 INQUIRE OF HIMSELF WHAT HE LOVETH, AND HE SHALL RESOLVE HIMSELF OF 
 WHEREOF HE IS A CITIZEN. 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE.
 
 WITH FATE AGAINST HIM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BERTRAND DUCHESNE LEVASSEUR brought no plebeian blood 
 into the family when, he married Edith Gilliat. His daughter, 
 sitting in state this autumn morning, might have been a queen 
 three hundred years ago, as handsome, I suppose, as the 
 French ancestress who did sit upon a throne. But she was 
 Miss Beatrice Levasseur, dependent upon her grandfather, 
 who lay dying. 
 
 She had passed her first girlhood women of this stamp 
 outgrow it early. Not that she was faded, only it seemed as 
 if there had never been any link between her and childhood. 
 From bibs and bands she must have blossomed into maturity. 
 
 She was a beauty, and had been a belle, ruling her lovers 
 with a rod of iron at Newport, Saratoga, Washington, and 
 hosts of smaller places. She was still single at five-and-twenty, 
 because she had resolved to marry a man with whom, as yet, 
 she had held only one desperate flirtation. 
 
 Not from love alone. She admired her handsome cousin, 
 Kirke Fordyce Gilliat ; arid if he had been a poor man, she 
 would have drained his heart to the last drop, smiling with her 
 royal red lips, and let him go for some other woman to com 
 fort. Binding up broken or bruised hearts is a more frequent 
 matter than the world believes ; for the loyal soul who discerns 
 the gaping sword-thrust and heals it with divine tenderness, 
 seldom betrays the man who has once trusted her.
 
 6 With Fate against Him. 
 
 She was some three or four months Kirke's senior almost 
 an "old maid" in his estimation. The slight difference was a 
 source of mortification to her. They were about twenty-two 
 when they had this "passage at arms." Kirke had just returned 
 from a three years' sojourn abroad ; part of the time spent at a 
 foreign University, the rest in travel. That he was elegant, 
 polished, fascinating, I need hardly tell you. The Gilliats had 
 never been lacking in grace, refinement, or beauty. The old 
 Davenant and Paget blood on one side, the Fordyce and Gil- 
 Hat on the other, kept the stream pure. A proud, exclusive 
 family, with sufficient wealth to decline any vulgar contact with 
 their less aristocratic neighbors. 
 
 Hugh Gilliat lay dying, as I have said. An old man, past 
 the three score years and ten, growing feebler every day. 
 
 A picture in himself, as he lay there. The appointments of 
 the room were rich and massive ; the grand old mahogany 
 bedstead, with its carved headboard going nearly to the ceiling, 
 and with a remnant of the Davenant arms upon it for the 
 Davenants having fought by the side of ill-fated Charles, would 
 brook no glance of the canting, vulgar Cromwell, preferring 
 exile instead, and had taken themselves and their treasures 
 across the seas. 
 
 Treasures, indeed ! This soft carpet, that seemed like the 
 cool and springy depths of woodland moss ; the wine-red tint 
 of the mahogany, inlaid with pearl and silver ; the silken cur- . 
 tains, with their heavy golden fringe ; the luxurious chairs, in 
 rich crimson velvet. The marbles were pure and choice, the 
 pictures fine, two or three of the old masters among them, 
 and even the lesser adornments betraying no lack of money 
 in the purchaser, united with the highest cultivation and 
 taste. 
 
 Beatrice revelled in all this. She was not a born nurse, as 
 are some women ; indeed, she rather shrank from the usual 
 concomitants of a sick-room, but the elegance of this always 
 had a charm for her. The broad garden and lawn spread out
 
 With Fate against Him. 7 
 
 before the windows another vista of beauty, from the clumps of 
 magnificent evergreens and gorgeous autumnal flowers to the 
 small silvery lake, where a Triton in the centre blew flashing 
 streams of spray from his horn. 
 
 She sat with her hands folded in her lap. You seldom saw 
 her busy with any trifle, unless it might be a book ; and she 
 oftener summoned her maid to read that. An imperious, 
 haughty woman, quite able to sustain the family honors with 
 out being crushed thereby. 
 
 The sick man turned uneasily upon his bed of down. Very 
 pale, very much worn and emaciated, the white, soft skin 
 bedded in a thousand wrinkles, the thin nostrils transparent, 
 the dark eyes sunken, and the straggling hair like threads of 
 silver. Yet Hugh Gilliat was not unhandsome, in spite of old 
 age and years of illness. 
 
 "Has the mail come this morning, Beatrice?" he asked 
 feebly. 
 
 The old, anxious question, and the eyes turned wistfully 
 upon her. 
 
 "An hour ago." And she glanced furtively at him, not in 
 any regret for his pain, but to see how he bore the delay. 
 
 A faint, wandering sigh : a little lifting of the eyebrows : a 
 little compression of the colorless lips ; then the thin fingers 
 plucked feebly at the silken coverlet. 
 
 "A bad sign, Aunt Laura would say," she thought to hersel 
 
 "Perhaps I had better write again," she suggested. 
 
 Among her other charms, Miss Levasseur had a very pecu 
 liar voice : smooth, rich, but strangely deliberate ; as if she 
 weighed her words before uttering them. 
 
 There was no answer for many moments. The fluttering 
 lids dropped feebly, and so still was he that you might have 
 fancied him dead. 
 
 Presently he roused a little and started at the fringe of the 
 spread. 
 
 " Beatrice 1"
 
 8 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Well can I do anything?" 
 
 She rose and came nearer. A rounded, symmetrical figure, 
 full of affluent grace, with sloping shoulders, snowy throat, 
 proud poise of the head, and a perfect wealth of shining black 
 hair, that lay above her brow in great ripples. I told you she 
 was handsome perhaps no face is so perfect but that some 
 over-critical eyes can detect flaws in it This one was narrow 
 at the temples, and a trifle depressed ; and the eyes had a re 
 markable inward look, as if she were brooding over something 
 that the world was not free to solve. This expression could 
 become very unpleasant when she chose : it was one of her 
 most forcible weapons. The nose was straight, slender, and 
 with that thoroughbred air you find in human beings as well 
 as animals. There was another little touch of something that 
 marred the face. Just between the outer line of the nostril 
 and the corner of the mouth, there were a few forcible lines 
 that might lure a wandering soul to destruction, and smile 
 complacently as he drifted by with outstretched, despairing 
 hands. For all it could be the centre of so much tenderness, 
 it reminded you of flame playing over ice, and was at once 
 beguiling, yet the most cruel trait in the whole face. But then 
 the contour and coloring were exquisite. 
 
 "Sit here beside me, Beatrice. I want to talk. I grow 
 weaker every day." 
 
 His breath came in feeble, yet rapid respirations, and his eyes 
 studied her face in an entreating manner. If he might but 
 look into her soul ! 
 
 Better that you did not, Hugh Gilliat For though the 
 great idea of her life, so young and strong, and yours just flut 
 tering in the balance, are nearer alike than you fear, perhaps 
 you would shrink a little from placing Kirke Gilliat's soul in 
 her white, untender hands. 
 
 " What did Doctor Parmlee say this morning?" 
 
 "Nothing at all, I think. The wine and the tonic were to 
 be continued."
 
 With Fate against Him. 9 
 
 "Little good they will do: little good. If Kirke would 
 but come !" 
 
 She drew one corner of her mouth as if with a sudden 
 twinge of pain, and said, slowly 
 
 "He must have missed the letters." 
 
 " I do not see how he could. I wish the boy loved to be 
 here. Beatrice I thought to make him master of the place 
 when I was done with it." 
 
 "Yes ;" she answered, calmly. 
 
 "But he neglects me. It is three months since he has been 
 at home." 
 
 "Young men are apt to find attractions elsewhere." 
 
 He glanced at her sharply with his sunken eyes, in which 
 the death-shadow quivered. 
 
 "You do not think that " And the voice was lost in a 
 mute, piteous appeal. 
 
 It was her turn, now. You would not believe that she was 
 the kind of woman to wait patiently for weeks until the mo 
 ment came in which she might serve her cause. 
 
 "I suppose there is some girl at the bottom of the delay. 
 It is nearly always the case." 
 
 Her voice was light to carelessness, and a half smile crossed 
 her lips. 
 
 ' ' No, you do not think it Kirke I've had a plan a long, 
 long while ; and I would like him to promise me but Kirke 
 would never lower himself by any mes-alliance. " 
 
 Beatrice shrugged her shoulders with the grace of a French 
 woman, and allowed her lips the least perceptible curl. He 
 saw it, as she meant he should. 
 
 " No, he could not soil the clear, pure blood that has come 
 direct from royalty! .Pagets and Davenants, Fordyce and 
 Gilliats not a stain or blemish. It would be only a young 
 man's way of amusing himself." 
 
 ' ' Oh, I am not sure that it is so " carelessly. She knew 
 that he loved Kirke Gilliat's little finger more' than her whole 
 
 1*
 
 io With Fate against Him. 
 
 body. He was always so ready to resent the slightest inter 
 ference. 
 
 " But why does he not come ?" 
 
 She answered him with her eyes. The words that she longed 
 to utter were thrust back out of sight. 
 
 For like some other proud old families the Gilliats had 
 never rated their women very highly. They had been proud 
 of their beauty, dignity, and the inherent grace none of them 
 were without. When the daughters had married well, their duty 
 ended. 
 
 It fretted Beatrice. She was hungry for power. An alien 
 element had been transferred into her blood from some of the 
 long-ago grandmothers who had ruled kings. 
 
 "I wish you would send for Moreau," he said feebly, fret 
 fully. 
 
 She rang the bell and gave the order. Then she returned 
 and bathed his face, smoothed the pillow,- chafed the cold and 
 trembling hands in her own, so warm and fresh that the touch 
 appeared to inspire him with new life. 
 
 "I meant that he should marry you," he burst out pres 
 ently, with an energy quite foreign to his usual highbred lan 
 guor and reticence. "You two are all that is left of the pure 
 old stock. I should like to die in the belief that your children 
 would run about these halls, so dear to me, that he would be 
 master and you mistress of this broad domain. " 
 
 She would have been well satisfied with the position of 
 mistress whether she were Kirke Gilliat's wife or not. She 
 had held herself all these years for one of the two contin 
 gencies. 
 
 "I think he does not love me," she made answer in her 
 slow, decisive way. 
 
 "And that he does love another?" 
 
 "How can I tell," almost gloomily. "I am not in his 
 confidence." 
 
 "But you will marry him?"
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 1 
 
 "If he desires it" 
 
 The old man moved uneasily. After all there was a little 
 tender romance in his heart concerning Kirke. He wanted the 
 boy to be happy. He could dower his grand-daughter, and 
 still have sufficient for him. 
 
 For he had always been rather distrustful of Beatrice. Why, 
 he could not explain to himself. He would not have had her 
 less handsome or less proud, but he experienced a dim mis 
 giving concerning her heart, a good thing for a woman to have 
 if kept under proper control. But if, on the other hand, 
 Kirke should bring home a wife whose lineage was common, 
 whose aims and hopes, whose very love should have in it some 
 of the grosser elements whose children would riot in this old 
 mansion. 
 
 The vague pang in his brain sent a shiver through every 
 pulse. He raised himself partially, leaning on his elbow. 
 The colorless lips gasped and quivered piteously, and he made 
 two or three attempts before he spoke. 
 
 ' ' Beatrice, you will love him ?" 
 
 It was more of entreaty than question or command. 
 
 She studied him with a quick, stealthy glance. For a year, 
 perhaps, she had been waiting for some auspicious moment. 
 Had it come? 
 
 There was one peculiar thing in Beatrice Levasseur's eyes. 
 Not the first gleam of coquetry, though she had brought many 
 a man to her feet, but a kind of deep, tenacious resolve, not 
 the patience of any tender grace, but an underlying resolve 
 that often does its work more effectually the power of waiting. 
 The pupil and the iris were so nearly of the same color, a kind 
 of steely black, that it gave them this strange, inscrutable ex 
 pression. 
 
 It passed like a flash. Her brain processes were slow, but 
 once arrived at any conclusion, she acted instantly. 
 
 "Love him !" she said, drawing in a fluttering breath that 
 sounded almost like a sob. "Ah, you ask that of me, and
 
 1 2 With Fate against Him. 
 
 you have never dreamed why other men ceased to hold interest 
 for me, why, I preferred to remain here as your companion 
 rather than mingle with the gay world. I think he cared for 
 me once, and if whoever came between " 
 
 She knew her sentence was just long enough, and paused at 
 the opportune moment. 
 
 "He cfc/care, I am certain !" The old man was roused to 
 a tremor of excitement. "And it is best that you two should 
 marry the last of an old, pure line. I will send Moreau for 
 him at once." 
 
 Beatrice looked satisfied, something more, perhaps, elated. 
 Yet, bending over him, she murmured, "You will not tell 
 him ?" 
 
 " I will give him my commands. If he chooses to disobey, 
 the consequences will rest upon him alone. There shall be 
 no more delay no more neglect !" 
 
 The spirit of Hugh Gilliat spoke in that, rallying its old 
 forces for a moment, and then he fell back upon the pillow. 
 Beatrice bathed the deathlike face and chafed the cold hands 
 anew, wondering in her soul how long he could last long 
 enough to carry out his latest project ? 
 
 A servant tapped at the door. 
 
 "Mr. Moreau has come." 
 
 "Mr. Moreau," Beatrice repeated, in answer to her grand 
 father's questioning glance. 
 
 "Show him in." 
 
 "Shall I leave you?" 
 
 "No, child. Beatrice, the journey is almost done." 
 
 He uttered the words sadly. Day by day he had been 
 striving to thrust aside the fatal knowledge, but it rushed over 
 him now like a torrent threatening to sweep him utterly away. 
 How strange death was ! He must provide for the new line of 
 Gilliats, and first of all be sure to have them worthy of their 
 name and patrimony. 
 
 The new-comer was a small, wiry, keen-eyed man with a
 
 With Fate against Him. \ 3 
 
 certain subdued business air. His salutation had in it a pecu 
 liar grateful deference, 
 
 "I want you to go for my grandson immediately. If you 
 do not find him in Philadelphia you have his address con 
 tinue the search and bring him back with you. Tell him that 
 I am dying !" 
 
 It was the first time that Hugh Gilliat had confessed it. And 
 now an awful grayness stole over his face, as if the admission 
 brought the dread visitant nearer. 
 
 " That is all?" 
 
 The sick man considered a few moments. 
 
 "No, that is not all. You may leave us, Beatrice." 
 
 She rose and swept slowly from the room, leaving an inde 
 scribable something in her wake. An ease and dignity, a cer 
 tain sumptuous air that was like a trail of light through the 
 soft autumn hush of the room. 
 
 She guessed what they were doing for the next half hour, 
 but she asked no questions then, or ever. She knew Hugh 
 Gilliat too well to ruin her cause by the slightest show of 
 impatience. 
 
 She was summoned presently by Aunt Laura, one of the 
 distant Gilliat cousins, an aunt by courtesy only. A tall, pale 
 woman with silvery hair and thin, wrinkled face, but bearing a 
 few strong family characteristics. For many years she had 
 held the position of housekeeper and female head of the 
 family. 
 
 ' ' He has asked for you, my dear ;" she announced in her 
 soft, solemn voice. "There's a great change in him, a great 
 change." 
 
 Beatrice went back to her post. Aunt Laura wandered in 
 and out like the noiseless current of a shady river, hinting 
 nervously at the impending change, and sighing to herself.- 
 Beatrice grew strangely tender, yet it was no part of her nature, 
 rather a stray branch grafted on by circumstances. Not a 
 moment but she watched through her inscrutable eyes, as if
 
 14 With Fate against Him. 
 
 counting out the heart-beats, and keeping one end steadfastly 
 in view. 
 
 Glorious autumn weather it was, with golden days full of 
 the balm and odor of yonder crimsoning woodlands, with 
 skies of rose and purple and nights of fragrant dusk. 
 Nearer to the other shore drifted the soul of the man within, 
 but her white hand would be no bond to hold him back. She 
 had no romantic regard for old age, no desperate clinging to 
 the souls near her. When her time came she expected to die 
 calmly, and that others should, did not in the least surprise 
 her. 
 
 So she dreamed over her own plans. If any hope should 
 be crushed out of Kirke Gilliat's life any foolish fancy, some 
 day when he came to his senses and weighed Rothermel against 
 it, he would be thankful that circumstances had decided for 
 him. According to her creed there was no ill and no wound 
 that could not be cured by gold. 
 
 But of that deep and noiseless pain which wrenches souls, of 
 the stab in the secret recesses of one's being that cuts off hope 
 and happiness at one keen sword thrust, and yet raises no cry 
 to the world, she recked little. Her imagination was not of the 
 vivid order, neither was the torturing habit of introspection one 
 of her specialties. A straightforward, commonplace woman 
 indeed, with small principle, but a giant of ambition and 
 a demon of ease and luxury ; and to provide for these, her 
 petted offspring of habit, she knew no scruple, but that of 
 carefulness. Not a Borgia or a Semiramis, because, forsooth, 
 such women have gone out of date ! 
 
 She had hazarded her guess concerning Kirke Gilliat as one 
 would throw a dice. There were few young men but what at 
 some period of their salad days become entangled with a girl 
 they would hardly care to marry. And granting this imaginary 
 being were an angel of light, with poverty for her dower, she 
 would be objectionable to Hugh Gilliat, even in his death 
 throe.
 
 With Fate against Him. i5 
 
 But one morning, Doctor Parmlee said, with a grave shake 
 of the head, 
 
 "He cannot live beyond another midnight. When will 
 Mr. Kirke return ?" 
 
 " If " and Beatrice Levasseur gave a great gasp. But there 
 would be the will ! 
 
 Even before the Doctor's low tone had ceased to flutter like 
 a breath of summer air through the dark hall, there was a 
 clatter of horses' hoofs on the pavement without, and a deep 
 voice that made the blood tingle in every pulse. The door 
 was flung wide open and in the sunshine stood Kirke Gilliat, 
 dusty and travel-stained, his face pale and anxious. 
 
 "Just in time, my dear young friend!" cried the worthy 
 Doctor. 
 
 Kirke bowed to his cousin, flew up the stairs and made 
 himself presentable, washing away the weariness and soil, and 
 then walked straight to his grandfather's room. 
 
 What passed between the two, Kirke never cared to repeat. 
 Aunt Laura went in and out in her usual noiseless fashion. 
 Beatrice was gently helpful. Doctor Parmlee came in again at 
 three, and they all watched in silence. At twilight the soul of 
 Hugh Gilliat passed over the river. 
 
 There was a great funeral at Rothermel. Something of the 
 old feudal system had been kept up on the estate, and after 
 the family, and the gentry round, came the cottagers. Their 
 master had been kind, if cold and hedged about with minute 
 formalities. Yet Aunt Laura dropped the only tears upon his 
 grave, and the last thing she ever did was to plant some roses 
 at his feet. 
 
 The immediate family assembled in the library to hear the 
 will read. The table was draped in black ; the chair in which 
 the old man used to sit, and the crimson curtains, were also 
 shrouded. Two women in their deep mourning robes, and 
 Kirke Gilliat, high-bred, handsome, but deadly pale. 
 
 Small legacies and gifts first, Aunt Laura's house and pen-
 
 1 6 With Fate against Him. 
 
 sion second, a regular income to be paid to Beatrice Levasseur, 
 and the estate with all its rents and appurtenances to go to 
 Kirke Gilliat if he married his cousin, if not, her income was 
 to be doubled, a portion of ten thousand dollars to be paid to 
 him, while the remainder went to a distant Gilliat connection. 
 
 The will contained no news for Kirke. His grandfather had 
 told him all, and in his dying moments extorted a promise that 
 he would marry Beatrice. He had given it to soothe the last 
 bitter pang of separation. 
 
 The keen-eyed lawyer glanced furtively at Kirke. 
 
 Not a muscle betrayed his resolve or displeasure. He bowed 
 low to the assembled company and retired. Straight to his 
 room up-stairs he went, and flinging wide open the shutters, sat 
 down to consider his fate. 
 
 A tall, finely-formed man, with a maturity of figure not 
 always seen at five-and-twenty. There was a touch of the 
 Fordyce in his clear ruddy skin and bright chestnut hair, while 
 his full beard had in it the bronze brown tint the old painters 
 loved. A peculiar kind of beauty indicating a pleasure-loving 
 nature, a soul that absorbed rapidly whatever ministered to its 
 desires, and passed coldly by whatever was distasteful, revelling 
 in a passionate and glorious enjoyment for the time, gathering 
 sweets like the bee from every flower that came in his way. 
 
 Three years ago he had expected to marry his cousin. He 
 had a presentiment that this was his grandfather's desire. So 
 he sunned himself in the fascination of the stately Beatrice, 
 more generous to him than to most of her lovers, because her 
 eyes were fixed steadily upon the golden background. 
 
 One of those sudden and unaccountable changes intervened, 
 as if he had thrown in his plummet for sounding and struck 
 against a solid rock. So he had never asked her to marry him, 
 and wandered elsewhere, butterfly like, in the search for 
 pleasures. 
 
 What else? What sweet, dread knowledge had come to 
 him ? The power to lift his soul out of the self-loving groove
 
 With Fate against Him. 17 
 
 into which it had drifted through flattering from without and 
 indulgence from within, by contact with the one woman loyal, 
 tender, truthful, who roused all that was noblest in his man 
 hood. 
 
 The old story and the old temptation. Whether he should 
 barter his soul and his happiness for these broad acres ? 
 
 Ah, they were broad and smiling in bronze and crimson 
 tints, and the deep green of cedar, pine, and hemlock, the 
 murmur of the old river beyond, the background of moun 
 tain lying in purple gloom, and this mansion where generations 
 of Gilliats had been born and ruled, small princes in their way. 
 Then Kirke Gilliat looked at the paltry ten thousand and the 
 woman to whom he owed fealty. 
 
 Beatrice Levasseur listening heard the soft step that paced 
 the floor all night long. She knew then that his heart was at 
 stake, and ground her white teeth with bitter envy. She did 
 love him Kirke Gilliat, master of Rothermel, not the poor 
 man with his ten thousand dollars ; and she hated this other 
 one who had come between. 
 
 Grave, silent, and pale was he for several days. He took 
 long solitary walks and longer solitary rides, his poor beast 
 coming home sometimes with strained eyes and his glossy coat 
 covered with foam. Aunt Laura was weak and motherly, 
 Beatrice quiet, reserved, distant. In truth the very reserve be 
 gan to pique him, at length. He had this much of the boy 
 still about him, that if you put up a barrier he desired to 
 demolish it, or at least test his strength in the endeavor. Never 
 had Beatrice looked handsomer than in her deep mourning 
 dress, just relieved at throat and wrists with folds of wreath- 
 like illusion. Never had her voice been sweeter, or her eyes 
 worn softer lights. 
 
 To a man fond of refinement, elegance, and that nameless 
 grace above, yet often confused with high breeding, the con 
 stant picture of such a woman may become a dangerous fasci 
 nation. He ceased to fret against the will, resolving on making
 
 1 8 With Fate against Him. 
 
 a pretence that he would go away, would be true to the 
 promise so sacredly given to another. And because he felt 
 that he could leave Rothermel, he lingered, toying with the 
 temptation. All this while not a word had been said on either 
 side. 
 
 Then he began to ask himself how much right he had to 
 crowd Beatrice out of this birthright for a stranger's sake. He 
 also tasted the sweets of possession, the delicate allurement of 
 authority. To be master here to rear his children in this 
 grand old mansion, with its family heirlooms, its plate of gold 
 and silver, to have the ease and comfort of this wealth ah ! 
 that made the poverty look bleak and bitter by contrast. 
 
 He had promised from an overwhelming impulse of tender 
 ness : for the sake of having his grandfather die in peace. He 
 hated to give pain when he was present to witness the suffer 
 ing. And although he knew then he could not keep his 
 word, he smoothed the matter over to his conscience, putting 
 off the evil day. 
 
 And now the tempter said why not put it off altogether ? 
 Turn which ever way he might, there would be some sin, 
 some broken promise. Which would bring the greater loss 
 and discomfort ! 
 
 Day by day he weighed them in the balance. It is always 
 the present woman who has the greater advantage, and Beatrice 
 understood hers and used it warily, surrounding it with a kind 
 of high emprise. She would snatch him from the dangerous 
 influences that had crept into his path : she would really restore 
 him to position, wealth, and honor 1 
 
 These two skilfully concealed the truth from each other, 
 and the deeper blackness of their own treachery and selfish 
 ness. Had the pure Gilliat blood come to the dregs ? 
 
 Kirke remained three weeks, then went away without a word 
 as to his intentions. In a fortnight he returned, and Beatrice 
 knew then that she had won her cause. True, he was nervous 
 and ill at ease, and came to have a kind of haggard look.
 
 With Fate against Hint. 19 
 
 The servants, and good Doctor Parmlee, as well as Aunt 
 Laura, ascribed it to grief; but there were two not so easily 
 blinded. 
 
 "He was a fool to allow himself to become entangled," 
 muttered Moreau, watching him stealthily. 
 
 "He has ceased to love her," commented Beatrice, inwardly. 
 
 Kirke Gilliat was to marry his cousin in six months before 
 three had passed they were engaged. The wedding would 
 necessarily be quiet. 
 
 Glancing down the future, he strove to soothe his con 
 science. " For the sake of possible children," he said. 
 
 Ah, he had yet to learn that a man might wake from his 
 ambitious dreams, to find himself cursed by a woeful progeny, 
 the punishment stretching from this near life to that afar, leav 
 ing in its track ruin and desolation.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT seemed to Victor Hurst that the long summer day would 
 never come to an end. Since seven o'clock this morning he 
 had stood in his place amid heat, and smoke, and cinders, 
 the only music this incessant crunch and whirr of machinery, 
 the ponderous ring of the hammer, the click of fifty sharp 
 instruments that cut as clean as a guillotine, a hundred or 
 two more that punched and riveted and joined a general cho 
 rus of hideous sounds. 
 
 There had been an hour's intermission at noon, to be sure. 
 He sat on the dusty window-ledge, in the coolest part of the 
 shop, and ate his lunch. His mother had wrapped it in a 
 snowy napkin, which his first touch defiled. Every day she 
 did the same thing. He smiled bitterly, seeing it. Clouds 
 of smoke and grime blew in the cobwebbed window, settling 
 on the flaky biscuit and rich golden butter ; the thin sliced 
 ham, the green currant pie in a white saucer, the cheese, rich 
 and soft a feast to a man with a wholesome appetite. But 
 the first mouthful choked him. 
 
 "Hillo, Hurst! star-gazing, as usual! Look in the bot 
 tom of a well, at midday, man. Come and have some beer !" 
 
 A rough but friendly invitation. Three men lounged over 
 opposite, their lunch spread on an anvil, with a newspaper for 
 table-cloth. A great stone pitcher filled with ale graced the 
 centre, from which the group filled their tin cups liberally. 
 
 "He's temp'rance, he is," said another: a small, wiry fel 
 low, with eyes hidden far behind shaggy brows, after the 
 manner of a ferret's. " Should a' said grace for us, Parson. 
 Here's a heal th 1"
 
 With Fate against Him. 2 1 
 
 The pint cup was emptied at a breath, and placed on the 
 improvised table with a force that made it ring. 
 
 "Come, Hurst, be neighborly." 
 
 Ned Connor was always social over his ale. A man of five- 
 and-forty, rough, unkempt, unshorn. A great, brawny fellow 
 better for a man's friend than his enemy, and not to be 
 desired for either. 
 
 "Thank you, no." 
 
 There was a clean sound in the youth's voice, albeit a little 
 husky. 
 
 " Let him alone ! What does he want o' yale ! Parson's souls 
 must be temp'rit, and set a good 'xample. Isn't the day but 
 Monday, and the young un's head full o' yesterday's sermon ?" 
 
 They all laughed. 
 
 " When 'ill 'ee take to a gown and pulpit?" said the third. 
 
 "There's no gowns here, save over to the church of the 
 gentry. Chapel and school 'us folks don't need 'em." 
 
 "Mayhap his daddy was a shoemaker." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Garrick," interrupted Connor. "His 
 daddy's a good man, if I do say it ! An' let him alone. If 
 he won't drink, he won't. He's as well off, if he thinks so. " 
 
 ' ' Wise child that knows his father, Iv'e hearn tell. Don't 
 favor th' parson much \vi' his red hair." 
 
 Connor raised his brawny fist, but while it was still in mid 
 air, a cry arrested it : 
 
 "Not for me, Connor, not for me !" and the voice rang out 
 sharp and clear. " No quarrel among comrades for my sake." 
 
 Like a flash he stood beside them. Connor's face was 
 flushed, Garrick's sullen and glowering. 
 
 " I don't drink, you know not altogether because my father 
 preaches against it, but I've no taste for anything of the kind. 
 It's not worth words or blows among friends." 
 
 "True enough." The vice-like fist fell and unclosed, then 
 grasped the mug of ale again. "Health," he said, almost 
 brusquely.
 
 22 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Hurst went back to his window, crushed the scarcely tasted 
 lunch to a jelly, and was about to thrust it back into the basket. 
 
 "It will only fret her," he murmured to himself. "And 
 some one may be hungering." 
 
 He vaulted over the broken, grimy ledge just as the three, 
 all good-natured again, burst into a noisy chorus. Glancing 
 down the hot, unsheltered street sent a shiver over him. It was 
 so pitiless ! Shops and factories with the listless, midday air, 
 sidewalks strewn with debris, and here and there a muddy 
 stream oozing slowly through its bed of cobble-stones, but 
 baking to a crust before it reached the main gutter. 
 
 Victor Hurst shrank from it all with an intense disgust He 
 picked his way over bars of iron and the remnant of a broken 
 engine, through a dingy alleyway too narrow for the sun to 
 penetrate, and out to the next street, which looked rather more 
 inviting. A group of ragged urchins were pitching pennies in 
 the shade, and a beggar-girl with her basket sat on the step 
 of a rickety stoop. 
 
 "Here, "he said, thrusting the parcel into her thin, dirty 
 hand, napkin and all. 
 
 She nodded her head, but did not move her eyes from the 
 group of boys. 
 
 Then he went onward rapidly, in spite of the hot noon. 
 Some demon within seemed urging with fiercer heat than this 
 broiling sun showered down. And yet whither ? What point 
 of coolness and rest spread out before him? 
 
 He saw it now. It was worth all the walk. Far beyond the 
 river that men had prisoned in sluggish bonds for selfish pur 
 poses, coining its clean, clear throbs into their vile gold, far 
 beyond the smoke and red haze, the squalid houses, the unclean 
 sights and sounds, rose the distant mountains. 
 
 It was odd, but one verse of an old hymn, heard a month 
 ago in prayer-meeting, kept floating through his brain with a 
 strange persistence :
 
 With Fate against Him. 23 
 
 " Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 
 Stand dressed in living green, 
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
 While Jordan rolled between." 
 
 More than once he had come out here to view the spot. To 
 be sure, this muddy Jordan had to be glorified by the eye of 
 faith, but beyond, beyond ! How one long ridge swel-led up 
 browner and browner, until it took a tint of purple blackness ; 
 rounding crag and headland, opening interminable vistas, 
 haunts where one might lie and dream forever with the clouds 
 of green waving above his head. It was so cool, so restful, in 
 the tender silence. The dense mass of pine and waving hem 
 lock, relieved here and there by birch and maple, or a stray 
 poplar, with its quivering silver. Ah, how sweet, how lovely ! 
 To go there and live even a hermit's life would be keenest 
 enjoyment ! Anything to take one beyond this noise into a 
 heaven of peace. 
 
 The midday hush began to be broken. Crowds of men and 
 boys jostled each other with a rude jest or merry quip ; frowsy- 
 headed women, with their sleeves rolled above their elbows, 
 came to street-doors and laughed shrilly in response to some 
 neighborly greeting. But he never stirred until the sharp 
 steam -whistles pierced the air with their hideous shrieks. 
 
 It needed but a few moments to stride back. The men were 
 all in their places, the engines had begun, the hammers were 
 crashing, and the click, click of the smaller works was like 
 the undertone of some diabolical harmony. It rasped every 
 nerve. 
 
 Now and then some one sang a stave of popular melody, 
 coarse, perhaps, but cheerful. They all enjoyed this common 
 place life, with its hurry, and bustle, and smoke, and grime. 
 Some of the men took great pride in it, fashioned iron and 
 steel into shapes and bodies that held a power akin to life, 
 action at least. Why should he dislike it so ? 
 
 Would the day ever come to an end? He glanced out of
 
 24 With Fate against Him. 
 
 his window. Nothing but the dingy orange-red sunshine, and 
 the hazy, bleared. sky. Was there a God up above ? Did He 
 care for all these millions of souls debased and degraded, with 
 not one clean, wholesome idea, who toiled from childhood to 
 old age, or until they dropped into an unhonored grave ? What 
 good came of it, what great truths were evolved in the course 
 of their existence? Would not the brave old planet have been 
 as well without them ? 
 
 Latterly he had taken to nursing his heterodox fancies over 
 the fire. He smiled grimly now and then when he thought of 
 the dross being purged out of a human soul in the same fashion. 
 He had been taught it from childhood. The lake burning for 
 ever and ever like this. But to-day he did not smile. Neither 
 did he believe. 
 
 Six o'clock came at last. Several of the men went to wash 
 in a huge trough beside the boiler, and shaking the cinders 
 out of their hair, combed it with their fingers, threw off their 
 leathern aprons, and hurried away. Hurst waited until the last. 
 He let the water out and turned in some fresh. 
 
 " Mighty perticerler you are I" said the foreman, with a kind 
 of good-humored sneer. "In my young days, what was good 
 enough for their betters was good enough for boys. " 
 
 "You don't grudge me a little cold water?" Victor said, 
 almost angrily. 
 
 " Not the water, no, not the water ;" in a deliberate way. 
 "But while I'm here, Hurst, I zw#give you a bit of advice. 
 Men never like 'prentice boys to be taking on airs. You'll 
 want a place when you're out of your time, and there's nothing 
 like making friends for a young man. Feeling's pretty strong, 
 sometimes. And when a fellow gets the ill-will of his mates " 
 
 "I shall never ask anything of them !" in a haughty tone. 
 
 Now that he had washed his face clean it had not been free 
 from grime since morning you could see, as he held it bravely 
 up to Baxter, that it was an unusual face, to say the least. The 
 forehead was clear and white as a girl's, and the hair clustering
 
 With Fate against Him. 25 
 
 about it was of a peculiar color, a very deep auburn, with the 
 bronze rather than red tint, fine, soft, a great mane curling 
 in loose rings at the ends. His eyes were large and gray, his 
 nose straight, with those wonderfully flexible nostrils that con 
 tracted and distended with a breath. A rather wide mouth, with 
 a line of bronze moustache on the lip, and the lower part of the 
 face not filled out, too thin for beauty of contour, since at the 
 temples it was very broad. Now there was more defiance in it 
 than any other expression. 
 
 "You're standing in your own light, Hurst, I can tell you 
 that I" 
 
 "No, I'll never ask aught of them, or of any master. I 
 hate the whole thing ! Every shop may sink to " perdi 
 tion he was about to say, but the thought of his father's calling 
 restrained him, and so he added "for all I care." 
 
 "You'll be wanting daily bread as well as the rest of us," 
 with a half smile of contempt at the boy's foolish energy. 
 
 " I'll get it some other way." 
 
 "If it is black work it makes white money. And no one 
 can say that Norcross is a hard master. " 
 
 " I've no fault to find with him. The work is good enough 
 for those who like it. I don't." 
 
 With that he turned away, combing out his long light hair 
 until it glittered like a sunset sea. 
 
 Baxter thought him an odd compound of vanity and Miss 
 Nancyism, his figure of speech for anything foolishly nice. 
 t Then he came back a step. 
 
 " Hurst," he said kindly, "you've some odd idees stored in 
 your brain. May be it comes of being a parson's son ; but 
 your father hasn't a bit of such pride. He's a good man is 
 John Hurst. I shall never forget the night he stood over my 
 Jem, never. And that he's up in heaven I haven't a doubt 
 along of your father's good words. I'm not a religious man, 
 Obut I know the genooine article when I see it. I should be 
 sorry to have his son go to the bad as parson's sons often do." 
 
 Q
 
 26 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Victor Hurst uttered not on word in reply. His face 
 changed from scarlet to white, and a blue line settled about his 
 lips. Not altogether anger, either. There was somewhere in 
 the words a deep thrust that he could not analyze, and it hurt 
 him. 
 
 But Baxter, having given his advice, walked away. Victor 
 finished his rude toilet, gave his trousers a brush, put on his 
 coat, and went out also, taking up his little basket as he passed 
 a shelf. 
 
 The walk was long enough to allow his temper to cool. He 
 was hot and hasty, but always it seemed there lay in the depths 
 of his heart a soreness that some words rasped into an open 
 wound. Why was he so sensitive, so keenly susceptible to 
 every look or tone ? 
 
 The streets of Weareham were not marvels of beauty. No 
 purely manufacturing town ever can be. The river would have 
 given the finest locations ; for on the opposite side the bank was 
 very irregular here sloping down into what might have been 
 verdurous lawns, there rising into small bluffs which a house 
 would have rendered picturesque in the extreme. But instead 
 there were shops, with their tall chimneys ; sheds for coal, lime, 
 and timber of all kinds ; sloops and schooners flapping their sails 
 listlessly in the late afternoon breeze, and two brisk-looking 
 steamboats, with a black tug sandwiched between. A busy, 
 thriving place, a town in which fortunes were made, where 
 the few prospered and the many lived and died unknown 
 perhaps not the less happy. God, keeping watch over it all, 
 decides. 
 
 It was a long walk out to the little cottage. John Hurst had 
 gone thither for cheapness, and to be nearer his work. Not 
 but what he could have found enough in the town ; but people 
 in this busy place had to swarm everywhere, and a true minis 
 ter of God is never at a loss. The men who sent him knew 
 that he was doing a good work, and further than that they gave 
 themselves little trouble.
 
 With Fate against Him. 27 
 
 But Victor used to wish the cottage elsewhere. The longest 
 way round was pleasanter ; but to-night, with his eyes fixed on, 
 the eternal hills, he cared little for the minor wayside beauties. 
 The branching elms drooping in the summer heat, the glossy 
 green maples, the dense horse-chestnuts, scarcely won a glance. 
 Now and then he half stumbled over some group of playing 
 children ; but not being in a patient mood, he scarcely noted 
 the exclamations. 
 
 Through the dusty streets, still smoky and hazy, looking 
 dimmer in the orange-red glow of the sunset, the dingy houses 
 brightened a bit here and there by some stray gleam. 
 
 Presently they grew more irregular, with larger gardens and 
 a few attempts at flowers. He knew of one window where he 
 would see a pot of carnations in bloom. A hump-backed 
 woman with large sad eyes sat here and sewed. He saw her 
 early in the morning and late at night. Was life wearisome to 
 her ? Did she never wish to be out of it all ? He thought he 
 should, if by any mischance he lost youth and health. 
 
 There she was ! A sweet, placid face, with her silvery hair 
 gathered beneath a Quaker cap. Was there something in this 
 religion that kept people always at peace? 
 
 On a little farther. Here the ground was quite open, with 
 a background of straggling trees, great pines, and chestnuts 
 with bare, scraggy trunks and thick masses of foliage above, 
 that shut out the view of the mountains beyond. He held 
 a grudge against them for that. One had been scathed by 
 lightning. A jagged fissure going nearly into the heart, 
 twisting the bark away, charring and blackening, and it was 
 now a mass of dead branches, save one green twig high atop. 
 
 The cottage had once been a soft light-brown in color, but 
 it was sadly faded by time and lack of care. The little garden 
 in front was a mass of bloom, and over the porch was trained 
 honeysuckle and clematis Virgin's bower. Both displayed 
 some scattering flowers, sprays of snowy white, like stars among 
 the green, and the yellow and scarlet of the other. The win- 

 
 28 With Fate against Him. 
 
 dow-curtains were like drifts of snow, and on each wide ledge 
 stood a saucer containing a mound of flowers. 
 
 The woman within heard the stride, and with her work still 
 in hand went down the path to meet her son. She knew by 
 the step that something had fretted and discomposed him. 
 The cloudy face and firmly-set lips were a tacit confession the 
 moment he glanced into her eyes. He almost wished that 
 she could not fathom his moods quite so readily. 
 
 "Are you tired, Victor?" 
 
 A sweet, clear, trusty voice. You put faith in the woman 
 the instant you heard it. 
 
 " Tired no," with a short, forced laugh. " What should 
 make a great fellow like me tired ?" 
 
 This time he cast his eyes down to the stone flagging, 
 scoured to the farthest verge of cleanliness. 
 
 "It has been a very warm day." 
 
 "Yes, "briefly. 
 
 He passed through the hall and up stairs. The mere face 
 and hand washing at the shop never sufficed for him. He had 
 partitioned off a small corner of his room, near the chimney, 
 and fitted it up with some cheap bathing conveniences. So 
 when he had refreshed himself, scoured off the grime and dirt, 
 and was arrayed in clean linen, he began to feel more com 
 fortable. Perhaps too it washed away the ill-humor. 
 
 He possessed a girlish, nervous love for cleanliness. The 
 water rippling cool over his fine, soft skin ; the white, fragrant 
 clothes, always laid in dried rose-leaves and sweet baisley, filled 
 his whole soul with delight. The damp curls clustered loosely 
 above his forehead like a restful crown. 
 
 Then he went down the broad stairs, uncarpeted, but like 
 everything else scrupulously clean. The table was spread in 
 the middle of the floor. What if the cloth was coarse and the 
 ware plain delf it was neatly arranged, and just before his 
 plate a slender vase containing some flowers. She did not 
 always do this.
 
 With Fate against Him. 29 
 
 "Where is father?" glancing out of the window. 
 
 "He was called to a man in Kent's Lane said to be dying. 
 It is not likely that he will be home to supper." 
 
 Still, she had placed a plate for him. If he had gone away 
 for a week she would have paid him the same respect. 
 
 The young man drew his brows to a little frown. "The peace- 
 fulness that made him look like a young god only a moment 
 ago was gone. 
 
 "If the earth could open and swallow Kent's Lane it would 
 be so much misery and crime and pollution taken out of the 
 world ! Oh, mother, does he believe their souls are worth sav 
 ing that they have any ?" 
 
 "Victor !" 
 
 She glanced up in amazement. A tall, slender woman, look 
 ing young for her forty years. Her son might have, nay, did 
 inherit a certain delicacy and refinement from her it hung 
 about her as fragrance hangs about the rose. But her hair was 
 very dark, with purplish tints, and her eyes nearly black ; her 
 mouth small, her nose not nearly so fine as her son's, and 
 the contour of the face altogether different, with something 
 wider than the space of the twenty years that lay between 
 them. 
 
 "Yes ;" nothing daunted by the look and tone. " It seems 
 too that there is something sweet and pure in a human soul 
 that will struggle up to the light. The forlornest plant in a 
 dark cellar crawls toward some crevice, you know, even if it 
 has to drag a yard of thread-like stem, that can hardly sustain 
 the weight of a bud." 
 
 "But these creatures faugh !" 
 
 The haughty nostrils curled in disgust. 
 
 "God made them. They are His creatures. And if they 
 cannot save themselves, some one must help. Was not Cain 
 his brother's keeper ?" 
 
 " Did God make them ?" 
 
 " Victor 1" in a sad, pained tone this time.
 
 3<D With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Mother, I wish you had called me John after my father. 
 I wonder that he indulged you in such a romantic fancy." 
 
 The young man gave a grim, bitter smile. 
 
 " It was my fancy. Then you do not like it ?" 
 
 There was something deeper than disappointment in the 
 faltering voice. 
 
 "Yes, I like it ;" with a peculiar exultant ring. "Victor" 
 softly, as if he were petting a child. "The name for a man 
 who is to triumph." 
 
 "Yes I thought of it then. There comes some kind of 
 trial in all our lives ;" and there was a strand of reverie in her 
 tone while her thoughts seemed engrossed with an inward 
 sight. "And you will gain the victory make a good fight," 
 she added, as an afterthought. 
 
 "With what, mother?" 
 
 "Your own soul, I think ;" rather hesitatingly. 
 
 "And what am I to do with it, mother? Bring it up to the 
 earthly height for which it longs so madly, like a chained 
 prisoner for freedom ; or cross it and thwart it, wrap it in the 
 coarseness of sackcloth or the foulness of ashes, and when it 
 has been despoiled of every human attribute, of every desire 
 and hope, call it a thing fit for Heaven, and offer it to God ? 
 Why, it appears monstrous. " 
 
 1 ' Victor, you are tempted of the evil one to-night. " 
 
 He was toying with his plate of blackberries, turning them 
 over in the hoar-frost of sugar that lay in little mounds atop. 
 
 "Which is the devil, and which is God?" 
 
 His voice was hoarse with some but half-suppressed emotion, 
 and dangerous steely lights flashed into his eyes. She saw it 
 all with pain and anguish, deeper than he could ever guess. 
 
 " Yes. Decide for me if you can ;" and his words rang out 
 sharply. "For the clear and pure impulses that lift me above 
 the grovelling lives that I see daily about me the instinct 
 which would keep me from theft, drunkenness, vileness, lying, 
 forger)^, and perhaps murder, makes me hate my surrounding
 
 With Fate against Him. 31 
 
 so bitterly that the whole world grows black before me ! I loathe 
 every day, every hour, save perhaps an evening like this." 
 
 She knew what made this better than ordinary, why she had 
 placed the flowers before his plate and sprinkled the white 
 sugar over his berries. There was a fine and subtle antago 
 nism growing up between the father and the son. She, standing 
 midway, with love on one side, and duty on the other, such 
 as few women ever could owe, had tried to be blind to the 
 fatal differences. Ah, God, what if her whole life had proved 
 a mistake! 
 
 "Yes, which is the Devil?" All day there has been a hot, 
 smothering fire in my very soul. Why, at noon I could have 
 throttled Garrick, low brute ! for something he said, only this 
 same impulse withheld me because his coarse skin and mat 
 ted .beard would have struck hard and foul against my sensitive 
 fingers not that his life had any sacredness in my eyes." 
 
 " Does God's grace implant such desires?" 
 
 Her voice had a sudden bravery in it, her face lighted up 
 with a peculiar martyr-like strength. The issue that she had 
 staved off so long, and temporized with in her woman's tender 
 way, must be met 
 
 " Has God anything to do with it ? It appears sometimes as 
 if we were creatures of blind chance. Place a man in the right 
 groove, and he goes up, thrust him outside of the pale, and' it 
 is only a longer or shorter road to perdition according to my 
 father's belief;" and he smiled bitterly. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Victor I thought you in the right way once " and 
 there was a great fear and trembling in her voice. 
 
 "I thought so too. We did have a few months of perfect 
 peace then, a little glimpse of what heaven might be. I tried 
 to be patient with my work. I comforted myself with brave 
 old St. Paul's courage and strength and heroism. But perhaps 
 he had a natural aptitude for tent-making, and I yes, I hate 
 the sight and sound and grime and smoke of that place down 
 yonder ! You don't know. Snatches of coarse, ribald songs,
 
 32 With Fate against Him. 
 
 jeering, swearing ! What does it do toward purifying a man's 
 soul ? Not that Norcross is to blame. He wants the best 
 workmen he can find ; and if they are brawny and sure of eye 
 and hand, what matters a few gallons of beer inside, or a few 
 oaths without, so long as his work is all right and he makes 
 money? It is no worse there than anywhere else. My father 
 thought it would crush the pride and take the whims out of 
 me. It has taken the religion, if I had any !" 
 
 His tone was deep and desperate. 
 
 "And what has come in its place? Has your soul any 
 better anchor ?" 
 
 "Nothing but this great hungry discontent gnawing on my 
 vitals like a vulture. And to-day it seems as if all the ache 
 and agony had culminated. I've found the best way out. 
 I've resolved upon my course." 
 
 "And that is ?" her face growing gray and wan with 
 
 apprehension. 
 
 "I am going away. I am glad to have this talk with you 
 to-night, for to-mojrow I shall leave Weareham and go out to 
 a new world." 
 
 "Oh, my son ! my son !" 
 
 A wild, pained ciy, like that of the mother-bird who finds 
 her nest despoiled and her birdlings gone 1
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE passionate love, the strong and impetuous anxieties of 
 a mother, the grief of separation rending her soul asunder, the 
 settled conviction that much was wrong, but the utter inca 
 pacity to right it, all spoke in her cry. 
 
 Victor Hurst sprang up and came round to her side, press 
 ing his flushed cheek against the pale one, smoothing the soft 
 hair, and catching at the imploring hands. 
 
 "Oh, mother, mother, listen and forgive! If you could 
 look into my soul its blackness, its hunger, its mad struggles 
 you would bid me go." 
 
 Oh, pitiless youth ! In the impatient intensity of his pain he 
 forgot hers. Perhaps God 3 has willed wisely that the soul of 
 the child should not be so far reaching as that of the parent, 
 else the weight of care would crush. 
 
 "I do not make you happy. I fret my father continually/ 
 I am so different from either of you. Mother, where did I get 
 this nature ?" he went on vehemently. 
 
 A look of stony terror seemed to freeze in her face. Was 
 that old time, buried she thought in a deep, hidden grave, 
 rising up to confront her ? Her tongue was dry and dumb, 
 her lips seemed for the moment palsied. 
 
 "You will be happier without me. You and he can live 
 your self-denying, blameless lives, and work for the salvation of 
 the perishing, if so be that you can save. And I shall be 
 trying my strength with the gray old world beyond, in a hand- 
 to-hand fight. If I have anything, I must wrest it from fate !" 
 
 His face was in a strange, passionate glow : the eyes sublimed 
 to daring intensity, the hair thrown back from his forehead like 
 
 2*
 
 34 With Fate against Him. 
 
 an aureole of sunset, the scarlet lips parted, showing the strong 
 white teeth. So brave, so beautiful ; but God made him hers 
 first of all ! 
 
 "No, "she said. "If you go, you will take my very life. 
 Better a hundred times to die by your hand, here at your feet, 
 than to know the long, long agony of starvation ! Oh, Victor !" 
 
 He raised himself and studied her. A grave face always, 
 looking as if some light, sad to miss, had gone out of it. But 
 to-night, the terror and ap{ rehension in it startled him. He 
 felt himself on an uncertain sea again, with no chart or 
 compass. 
 
 "No, you could not go," she began in a slow, wandering 
 tone. "There are the indentures, you know, your father's 
 word and your own." 
 
 "As if ?" But he came to a sudden pause. 
 
 " It does hold you," clinging to the words with her soft voice, 
 like the drowning mariner to a floating spar. "And it is not 
 so long to wait. Next ^lay you can go honorably then. Don't 
 begin life wrong, with a meanness that would always make you 
 ashamed !" 
 
 He flushed hotly. 
 
 " I don't know that I owe any one much ! I went to the 
 business against my will." 
 
 It was too true ; she knew it. In this sore strait her mind 
 seemed to grow confused. 
 
 " For my sake ! for my sake ! Have children no pity?" 
 
 He stared at her blankly. There had been times when he 
 fancied her placid, yielding nature deficient in any of the 
 stronger passions. But how strangely it was roused now ! 
 The d-eep eyes were like lakes of subtle, quivering flame. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " if you knew all !" 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 " It is so hard to stay there. No companionship, no interest, 
 a weary dragging out of the days like a galley-slave ! And 
 eveiy month, every week, the longing has grown upon me. To
 
 With Fate against Him. 36 
 
 be free, to be the veriest vagabond on the face of the earth, so 
 that I might come and go at will, try all things until I found 
 the one which satisfied me, filled my soul with boundless 
 content." 
 
 " It can never come in this world ;" shaking her head sadly. 
 
 " But it does to some." 
 
 "Who first learn to moderate their desires? In this life of 
 probation " 
 
 "Mother, don't!" as if he had been suddenly stung. "I 
 know the preachers' theory. But does God fill human souls 
 with high, pure aspirations, courage to do, patience to wait, and 
 hope only that you must strangle them all in the way, stamp 
 them down into nameless graves, and do continually that 
 which you hate ? Then your God, and that of my father, is 
 cruel." 
 
 "Oh Victor, think how you are talking!" she cried be 
 seechingly. 
 
 "I cannot help it," with a kind of sullen despair. " It has 
 been forced upon me. Gbd knows that I tried to believe, 
 tried to cheat myself into the semblance of content. But why 
 should a man lie against his own soul? I will no longer at 
 tempt to practise this deceit. I am restless, miserable, perhaps 
 possessed of a devil who knows?" gloomily. 
 
 He looked as if he might be, with that lurid light in his eyes. 
 
 " Pray, pray !" she implored. 
 
 "For what shall I pray? Freedom to follow out my own 
 devices ? For that is the only thing I need. " 
 
 "And yet you were once happy in in your father's way." 
 And she seemed to question him with her slow, sad eyes. 
 
 "I fancied so ; but I have fallen from grace." 
 
 "My g r "ce shall be sufficient for thee?" she said, in the low 
 tone of repetition. 
 
 " Perhaps I never had any. I think I yielded in part to my 
 father's importunity. And this old demon of unrest, that must 
 have been born with me, was always goading me to something.
 
 36 With Fate against 
 
 Since I could not have it in the companionship of brother? 
 and sisters, I ought to have had it in the free life of other boys. 
 But I was strictly brought up you. know that. Once I smug 
 gled some books into the house, and my father burnt them. He 
 put me in a machine-shop because I liked clean hands, and 
 tidy collars, and wristbands. It was to crush out my pride, to 
 make a man 6f me, to* bring me on a level with the poorest of 
 God's creatures ! I was to despise no one, to feel myself above 
 no one ; and, mother, I tell you in all honesty, that if I ever 
 fancied that I should come down to the level of Connor 
 and Garrick, I should open a vein, and let out the life-blood 
 that pains you by this continual rebellion." 
 
 " He did not mean that he did not mean that!" she cried, 
 wildly. " He goes among such men, and labors to raise them ! 
 His whole pure, self-sacrificing life is spent in it. He lives on 
 a crust and water, that he may minister to the bodies of the 
 destitute as well as their souls. He is a good man !" 
 
 ' ' With a narrow creed. I don't know why he is my father, 
 but there is an antagonism between us. His likes, and aims, 
 and wishes are not mine. He thwarts me in my tenderest 
 points. So it is best for us to go our separate ways. Other 
 sons try the world for themselves." 
 
 "Oh, you will never know all you owe him." 
 
 "I don't understand how we incur such debts. Do we ask 
 to be born ? And is it not the mother who cradles us in her 
 tired arms, who soothes us through our restless nights, who 
 stands between us and harm, displeasure, even ? For I think, 
 sometimes, in my boyhood he would have struck me but for 
 your beseeching eyes. I am glad that he never did. But 
 I owe you oh, a thousand times the more." 
 
 He kissed the cold, colorless lips with the sudden rapture of 
 a man's love. 
 
 "Then I take the debt," she said," almost joyfully. "Pay 
 me by staying. Finish your time honorably. Some day you 
 may be glad to have no stain upon your name."
 
 With Fate against Him. 37 
 
 "But it is so hard," he moaned. 
 
 "My son, a mother's love may lighten the burden, even if 
 you cast out the higher support." 
 
 " Did I cast it out ? I think I never understood it as you 
 and my father do. I wanted the peace it promised, and I 
 clung to something. I prayed. I fancied that I heard voices 
 in the air, and yielded with great joy. God will bear me 
 witness that I meant to be honest." 
 
 "And if you had kept the faith," she gasped. 
 
 "The old discontent and rebellion came back, the longing 
 for a new and different life, the man's awakening when he has 
 ceased to be a child, the conflicting forces of the soul. Sub 
 mission to the inevitable may be a virtue, but my lot can be 
 changed, and that is why I beat against my prison -bars. Why 
 then did the faith die, if it was grounded upon the Rock ? No, 
 mother, we were all mistaken, I never had it." 
 
 Her eyes were downcast, sorrowful. 
 
 "And I ask myself if I sjjall ever find it ! But there seems 
 so many more " 
 
 "Not more necessary things, Victor ;" in affright. "He said, 
 'Seek first the kingdom, and all these shall be added unto 
 you.'" 
 
 " What has been added to my father? He spends his life for 
 the grovelling souls down yonder ; he gives his time, his energy, 
 his ambitions, if he ever had any, for the miserable pittance " 
 
 "No, for the love of Christ, for the crown incorruptible; 
 and if so be any of those poor beings may prove worthy to 
 wear it, his joy will be the greater. There is something higher 
 than earthly ambition." 
 
 Her voice was strong and clear now, when she felt sure of 
 her ground. 
 
 "Did he think so in his youth ?" 
 
 " No at least I did not know him then. He was a grave, 
 kindly man when I first met him not young ; but I think he 
 never could have had any restless longings or ambitions."
 
 38 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " And I am so different. The blood of some old ancestors 
 runs in my veins rather than his. Can I help it?" 
 
 The hand on his arm shivered a little, the breath came in 
 hurried gasps, and the startled eyes gazed into vacancy, to the 
 garden without, to the grove of trees beyond ; anything rather 
 than her child's face. What did she fear to read there ? 
 
 "You are disappointed because I am not more like him 
 my father. In those days you loved him with a passion, I 
 suppose, as young girls do. He was your ideal. And it 
 seemed strange to find a hawk where one looked for a dove, 
 iu the nest." 
 
 " What do you know about love ?" she said, hoarsely. 
 
 "Only what I read, and imagine." 
 
 "He loved me," as if she were talking to herself. "He 
 was one man out of a thousand. You can never understand 
 all his nobleness." 
 
 He smiled a little pityingly. Did women always cling thus 
 to the heroes of their youth ? see in their commonplace vir 
 tues knightly grace and prowess ? A hard, cold, rigid, self- 
 contained man, he should have said, with only average ability, 
 and not concentrating in either person or mind the beauty or 
 tenderness necessary to win a woman's undying love. 
 
 "No," he made answer. "There are many things about 
 him that I shall never understand. And it seems to me that 
 our paths lie in different directions." 
 
 "But not now. Bear it a little longer for my sake. Be 
 victor over yourself." 
 
 Her voice moved him strangely, in spite of the hot impa 
 tience of youth, in spite of all his resolves. Perhaps it would 
 have been better if he had risen while the morning stars were 
 still in the sky, and begun his pilgrimage mountain-ward, leav 
 ing behind him only the note he had planned so many times 
 that afternoon. Ah, he could not tell now. It might be that 
 he did owe some duty. 
 
 He went round to his place, and sat down in the quaint
 
 With Fate against Him. 39 
 
 splint-bottomed chair, thinking oddly enough that it was his 
 father's work, and that he could, in country parlance, "turn 
 his hand to anything" even shoemaking ; and that brought a 
 sense of aversion, disgust. So he finished his berries slowly, 
 sipped the tea, but ate no more. 
 
 While he sat by the window watching the twilight flank the 
 woods in grotesque shapes, as if posting sentinels from some 
 weird world, his mother began to pile up her cups and 
 saucers, and set away the remnants of provision, watching 
 him stealthily. 
 
 Yes, he was handsome, with more in his youthful face than 
 one usually discerns, or at least the mother's partial eyes had 
 discovered it long ago. Tall, straight, supple, rounded with 
 surpassing symmetry ; hands browned and hardened by toil, 
 but shapely as if carved out of marble, and feet that were their_ 
 counterpart. Nobler than the vision she had seen long ago, for 
 all the smile was cynical instead of sweet; the eyes almost fiery 
 in their impatience ; the brows contracting with every trifling 
 emotion. 
 
 And what of his soul ? Her life had been so quiet, so gov 
 erned by rules springing from the wishes of another, that she had 
 hardly looked at her child's future in the light in which she now 
 saw it. Some old taint of ancestry cropping out that terrified her. 
 
 When the dishes were washed and put away, and the 
 table moved to its accustomed place, she came and stood by 
 her son, threading his silken hair with her soft fingers, and 
 starting a little at the bounding throb in his temples. 
 
 " It is a hard fight, my son. " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I think God never turned away from the soul that cried 
 unto Him." 
 
 " I have cried !" gloomily. 
 
 "With faith?" 
 
 "Not with faith, rather despair. For I have no faith in 
 what can be done here. When I go away "
 
 4O With Fate against Him. . 
 
 "You will wait until you can go honorably." Something in 
 her voice appeared to guide and repress. 
 
 "I will wait." He uttered the words coldly, and they gave 
 her no secret thrill. He had yielded from a sense of persua 
 sion, perhaps duty, not any tender son's love for her, not any 
 pity for her loneliness. 
 
 And then she thought of another who had not hesitated to 
 trample upon her crushed and bleeding soul, to leave her 
 perishing by. the wayside; and of the good Samaritan who 
 had bound up the wounds and given her a home in his heart 
 freely. To which of the two owed she the most fealty ? 
 
 The darkness fell around them. A cricket began to chirp in 
 the corner, adding his voice to the chorus outside. Far down 
 the woods the Whip-poor-will sent out his plaintive note ; and 
 the fire-flies sunned themselves in each other's radiance. All 
 was still and lovely, and the air made fragrant with the dewy 
 sweet-brier. 
 
 But neither of them spoke. She drew her low rocking- 
 chair beside him, and began to sing in a soft, untrained voice, 
 a grand old hymn, for she had long ago done with sweet 
 girlish ballads. 
 
 *' Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 But trust Him for His grace." 
 
 The sound and the words passed idly through the son's ears. 
 He was brooding over the wreck of plans that looked so fair an,d 
 feasible a few hours ago. Almost ten months to wait. Oh, 
 if he had not yielded so weakly, so easily. After all, was it 
 any point of honor ? His father had bound him at the Nor- 
 cross Machine Works, knowing that he disliked it ; that he 
 had no taste for the business, except a peculiar vein for me 
 chanics which cropped out now'and then in some odd improve 
 ment about the house, or a fantastic design of drawing, rude 
 yet bold. 
 
 For John Hurst had a horror of lawless, vagabondish ways. 
 This boy, who had now and then played truant from school,
 
 With Fate against Him. . 41 
 
 spent nights in the mountain wilds, and whom he had once 
 found playing cards at the tavern, needed the strictest watch 
 and ward to keep him from going to ruin. Some alien blood 
 ran in his veins. 
 
 At sixteen the bonds had been entered into. A tall, slender 
 stripling then, standing in strange awe of his father. Now he 
 was little past twenty. 
 
 But he, clinching his fist softly in the darkness, wondered how 
 deep a debt he owed John Hurst. Ah, how short-sighted and 
 ungrateful is youth ! A little money, he fancied, would make 
 it all straight between them. And if he managed to earn that 
 sum and send it to them, the rest of his time and his daily life 
 would be his own, subject to no scrutiny. But ah, the long 
 intervening months ! 
 
 The voice faltered its last tender cadence, and they sat silent 
 in the dark, her eyes seeming to wander over his face with a 
 pathetic hungering. Day and night it was ever present to her 
 mind, for the mother vision was always illumined. But the 
 fingers trailed slowly over his, and a few foolish tears quietly 
 dropped. Her son should have been a gentleman. 
 
 "Victor," she said presently, and her voice sounded like an 
 angel's, cleaving the darkness, "I think you will never regret 
 the sacrifice you have made for my sake." 
 
 "Not for your sake," almost ungraciously. His heart was 
 so sore and tossed about by the whirlwind of defeat. "That 
 my father's word might not be broken. He shall not say that 
 I marred his good name." 
 
 "Thank you in his stead. And if you could be happy in 
 the consciousness of duty " 
 
 " No, I cannot; at least, not untii I am sure which is my 
 duty. If it is right to stay in this place and become a clod, to 
 stifle all those keen and fine aspirations, for something in my 
 soul tells me that I might do a nobler work than moulding steel 
 and iron into various given shapes. However, it is all done ;" 
 with a bruskness in his voice. " I'll wait until I'm twenty-one,
 
 42 With Fate against Him. 
 
 and then no man shall be my master. I'll draw a free breath 
 for once." 
 
 He rose and groped his way to the mantel, striking a match 
 so savagely that the phosphorus fell on the hearth at his feet. 
 Then another, and this time he lighted the candle. 
 
 "Good-night;" coldly, going toward the door. 
 
 "Good-night;" over seas of tears that would fall unheeded 
 by her child. 
 
 The dull, smothered fires had broken out at last. The lurid 
 breath seemed to scorch her very soul. Would it have been if 
 this boy had never known any guardianship but hers? Ah, 
 would anything have been better? The hard present was here, 
 and if it carried the result of mistakes and failures, lapsing into 
 it from that far past, what then ? Nothing could be undone ; 
 that was dreariest misery of all ! 
 
 So she sat there crying softly. Did God keep watch and 
 ward over all, and heed the call of useless ravens ? For twenty 
 years she had been trying to do her duty faithfully, and the 
 child of her love, of her anxious hours and many prayers, 
 was ready to turn away and leave her desolate. 
 
 After awhile, ten o'clock, perhaps, she heard a slow, weary 
 step coming down the street, and springing up lighted her 
 candle, giving a glimpse at herself as she passed the little 
 mirror. Not to see if her dusky hair was smooth, or her plain 
 collar neat as usual. But she pulled out a little bunch of 
 withered madeira blossoms, still sweet, and started at the heavy 
 eyes, with the dark circle about them plainly visible. 
 
 "You are tired, John," she said, with gentle pity, as he 
 sank into a chair. 
 
 "The flesh is weak yes ; and poor human nature shrinks 
 from watching even one hour with the Master in His agony." 
 
 He wiped his pale face and drew a long breath. 
 
 "Was the man very ill?" 
 
 "Yes. He has gone to his last account. Oh, why will 
 men put off the great work of salvation until the hour of death ?
 
 With Fate against Him. 43 
 
 Why will they slight the mercy held out to them until the very 
 grave opens to receive them, and the jaws of hell yawn beyond ? 
 If they find a limit to God's mercy, they have but themselves 
 to blame." 
 
 "We cannot set limits," she returned, gently. 
 
 Somehow she pitied these poor creatures with a new and 
 infinite pity to-night. If she, with her opportunities, went 
 groping around in the dark, how much more they? 
 
 ' ' As the tree falls, so it shall lie. There is no device in the 
 grave. " 
 
 How hard and cold the text seemed, merciless even ! And yet 
 this morning she would have preached it without a misgiving. 
 
 " Will you not have a cup of tea?" she asked, timidly. " I 
 kept the kettle upon the coals." 
 
 "Why should I pamper my vile body to-night? Rather it 
 should be fasting and prayer for those poor souls possessed by 
 devils, who are hourly rushing down to perdition." 
 
 She spread a napkin over the table and brought out a plate 
 of bread, and filled a glass with cool water. 
 
 " Or if you will have milk " with a little hesitation. 
 
 "No." 
 
 He bowed his head reverently, and half unconsciously she 
 followed the motion. Yet her heart ached to see him sit over 
 the ascetic meal after his long hours of both mental and phys 
 ical strain. Her heart was so tender and pitiful ! All these 
 years of rigid life had not hardened it. 
 
 "It was terrible !" he began, presently. " The man had met 
 with a shocking accident his limbs crushed to a jelly, and the 
 woman, his wife, was half stupefied with liquor. Last winter 
 they both came to the chapel for awhile, and I hoped the seed 
 might be sown in good ground. Am I an unprofitable servant 
 to the Master ?" 
 
 "You shall not perplex yourself about it to-night, dear. 
 You look pale and worn ; and you need rest for both body 
 and mind."
 
 44 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Her voice was very gentle and persuasive ; and now she 
 raised her eyes to his face, knowing well that he would be too 
 preoccupied with his thoughts to find traces of her weeping. 
 
 '" Rest with the whole world lying in wickedness ! Do we 
 believe God's truth? Are we shepherds of ruined and stray 
 souls ?" 
 
 She was silent, having learned, long ago, that in these 
 nervous and highly-wrought moods no words could soothe, 
 and that quiet was best. Yet somehow she longed to stand 
 beside him in drooping tenderness, to brush the straggling 
 gray hair from his brow, and kiss the pale, thin lips. 
 
 Between these two the man whose whole soul had been 
 given to the salvation of his fellow-creatures, and the youth so 
 engrossed in wild dreams her being was almost rent assunder. 
 Longing to love and to do, they crowded her out of their plans 
 and aims, leaving the uncounted wealth of her woman's heart 
 to be poured out uselessly. The cruelest sting of all was in 
 that. 
 
 John Hurst was nearing sixty. With youth, health, and vigor, 
 he might have been prepossessing ; now you would pass him by 
 with hardly a second thought. Barely medium height his 
 son had far outstripped him, of a rather loose, awkward figure 
 now that it was so thin and angular. For the shoulders were 
 still broad, though the chest was considerably shrunken, and 
 the coarse, faded black coat hung loosely over it. His face 
 was closely shaven, and strongly marked. High cheek-bones 
 that left great hollows underneath, a short and rather thick 
 nose, deep set, light-gray eyes, and a forehead somewhat high 
 and narrow, though with a certain boldness. But the lower 
 jaw was quite square, and gave a dominant expression to the 
 face. 
 
 It indicated a strong nature held in abeyance by certain 
 fixed rules. The man's will was iron, bowing only to his 
 stern conscience and his religion. He had cast out the graces 
 of youth as so many snares of the devil. Saint Paul was not
 
 With Fate against Him. 45 
 
 a more rigid moralist, not more stern in his self-denials. I 
 think he had come to fashion himself on that grand old model, 
 with his own translation of it. There remained not a point 
 around which imagination might play. Every thought, every 
 emotion was subjected to the severest scrutiny. He would 
 have plucked out his right eye, or cut off his right hand, lit-!, 
 erally, if thereby he might have served God the better. 
 
 If you had brought Victor down and placed him beside his 
 father, you would have found not one sign of likeness. The 
 boy was right some old trick of ancestry must have been 
 revived at his birth, some -mark stronger in its organization 
 and power than these two people could have given him.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHEN John Hurst placed his son Victor at the Norcross 
 Machine Works, he fancied that he had done a wise thing for 
 the boy. They had been living at Weareham about a year, and 
 during that time Victor had been in and out of half a dozen 
 situations. He was quick to resent, and answered back with 
 more spirit than most employers admire. The weeks between 
 situations were the happiest time of all, for he rambled about 
 aimlessly, picking up odd bits of knowledge, but growing 
 more wayward and difficult to manage with every day. 
 
 The "Works" had won a good deal of prestige under old 
 Mr. Norcross. He had retired with a competency to ease and 
 Missionary meetings. He and his wife took a great deal of 
 interest in the religious affairs of all countries, according to 
 their faith. It was through the old gentleman's influence that 
 John Hurst had come to Weareham. 
 
 "A hard-working, self-denying man; just the one for a 
 home missionary. I think he would soon build up an inter 
 est at the Corners. He is not one of your fine clergymen, who 
 carry a scented handkerchief in any miserable hovel to purify 
 the air." 
 
 Taking the advice, the Board of Missions, at their yearly 
 meeting, had extended to John Hurst a call to come and labor 
 among them. There was the usual talk about the field being 
 white for harvest, the laborers few, the enemy sowing tares, 
 and all the opportune or inopportune figures of speech. 
 
 John Hurst thought he heard the Master's voice in it, and 
 came. The district assigned to' him was the outskirts of the 
 factories, where the ignorant, the poorly paid, the vicious 
 herded together. The Church spent something to redeem
 
 With Fate against Him. 47 
 
 them, the City and State still more, and yet they were not 
 redeemed. 
 
 John Hurst had worked among them for more than five 
 years. They had promised him six hundred a year, but it was 
 oftener five. The Rev. Mr. Underwood, his special clerical 
 adviser, had a flourishing church and a rather stylish parson 
 age : Brussels carpets, lace curtains, furniture that combined 
 both ease and elegance. His station demanded it. He was 
 much higher in the social scale than his poor brother in the 
 Lord. The elder Norcrosses used to go and take tea in state, 
 and send their pastor rich presents. Occasionally they would 
 speak of John Hurst. 
 
 "An excellent man, a most ex-cel-lent man," and the Rev 
 erend Underwood would rub his hands together with peculiar 
 unction. ' ' He is doing a good work among the poor heathen 
 at home." 
 
 So they classed the poor heathen and Mr. Hurst together, 
 and let them go. 
 
 John Hurst went at his work courageously. Some ten 
 years before this, he thought he had been called of the Lord, 
 and he gave up all expectations of worldly ease and advance 
 ment to follow. What downfall of blindly climbing hopes there 
 had been to Anah Hurst's life no one ever knew. A grave, reti 
 cent woman, with a shadow in her soft eyes, ready to follow 
 her husband anywhere. 
 
 He felt himself particularly drawn toward the poor and igno 
 rant. He had very little pride or ambition, in a worldly sense, 
 and he did give upeverything for the cause he had espoused. 
 To him the salvation of souls was of earnest, vital importance 
 the loss of them, agony itself. He just as much believed that 
 a man dying without any open declaration of faith in Christ 
 went straight to perdition, as he believed in God himself. He 
 leaned more toward the Law than the Gospel, toward the 
 terror than the mercy ; but it was because he was so fearfully 
 in earnest.
 
 48 With Fate against Him. 
 
 His son's peculiar and restless habits often tried him sorely. 
 He was a stern man in every relation of life, or at least he had 
 grown sterner since the weight of souls pressed so heavily upon 
 him. He barred out noisy boyish pleasures from the child's 
 life, and would fain have kept him in the straight and narrow 
 path, but Victor's feet seemed to have a fondness for by-paths 
 and intricate ways. 
 
 One day he ventured to ask some advice of his clerical 
 brother. 
 
 "Why not send him away to school," said the superior, 
 absently. 
 
 "He has little taste for books, and, since he has his own 
 way to make in the world " 
 
 "Ah yes, I see;" stroking his patriarchal beard, thought 
 fully. ' "Some kind of store business ;" and he pondered the 
 Feasibility of grocer's clerk. 
 
 "I cannot keep him in a store he is too unsettled." 
 
 "A trade, then, brother Hurst. There's nothing like a 
 trade for boys. It tides them over the dangerous years ; for 
 if a boy is bound, there he must stay. It gives them steady, 
 industrious habits." 
 
 "Yes," returned Hurst; and that instant he decided upon 
 a trade. Why had he not thought of it before, in his per 
 plexity ? 
 
 "And while I think of it, you can't do a better thing than 
 place him at the Norcross Works. James and William are 
 both fine men, fine men," in his pompous way, as if it had 
 been partly through his instrumentality. "And it is an excel 
 lent business. Why, it is said," lowering his voice a trifle, 
 as if there might be treason in the admission, "that brother 
 Norcross began life without a dollar and a good trade. One 
 of the first men in Weareham." 
 
 James Norcross was at the head of the Works. William 
 did the travelling and out-of-door business. James followed 
 in his father's footsteps, was a pillar of the Church, and orna-"
 
 With Fate against Him. 49 
 
 ment of society. A fine looking man, with a strong, shrewd, 
 yet pleasant face. To him went John Hurst, and the contract 
 was entered into immediately. 
 
 Great was the anger and indignation of Victor. 
 
 " At least you might have chosen something decently clean," 
 he flung out, disrespectfully. " I hate it ! I never will go !" 
 
 "You know nothing about it," was the stern rejoinder. " I 
 am the proper one to choose for you." 
 
 I think, but for his mother's sake, Victor Hurst would have 
 run away. He loved her passionately at that time, and her 
 grief and suffering won from him what his father's commands 
 could not have done acquiescence. Not without a hard 
 struggle, however. 
 
 She had interceded for her bpy as mothers rarely do. 
 
 " Anah," he said, with a quiet resolve that somehow always 
 awed her, "let me decide this matter. Do you think that I have 
 not the boy's good at heart ? Another year of such life as he 
 has been leading would be the ruin of him. He is wilful, 
 headstrong ; chooses his associates from among the most 
 lawless, and in a little while will defy any authority. I have 
 yielded to you in many other things which have not been for 
 his good, as you have plainly seen. Will you help him on 
 the downward path ?" 
 
 " Oh, John, let us try once more, once more. Perhaps I 
 understand him better. I am his mother " 
 
 Her eyes overflowed with tears, and drooped with apparent 
 shame as John Hurst turned his own full upon her. 
 
 "Will you let me save him or not?" and his voice seemed 
 to fall on her heart like drops of molten lead, withering, crush 
 ing. "You know what I said then, Anah I Have I not kept 
 my word ? Have I not done all things in my power for your 
 sake ? And now choose this day whom he shall serve. If it is 
 God and the right, so far as in you lies, I will help to my 
 utmost ; if not, I wash my hands of him. . Let your foolish 
 indulgence rescue him if it can."
 
 5o With Fate against Him. 
 
 She remembered her past, and what he had done for her. If 
 the boy had been different, what delight would he not have 
 taken in him ! It was Victor who had made the first disturb 
 ance, and surely in all those early years John Hurst had 
 been very patient with him. If the lad came to ruin now 
 through her weak love. She seemed to understand so little of 
 men's natures, she knew next to nothing of the temptations 
 outside. John was among them every day, in hovels, taverns, 
 prisons. And oh, most of all, she wanted her boy clean and 
 pure, as white in soul as John Hurst. 
 
 ' ' Do what is best, " she answered, humbly ; and then she set 
 herself to work to smooth over the path for her child, and per 
 suade him to yield. 
 
 There was one curious thing in it all that Victor Hurst could 
 not explain even now. He had always felt afraid of his father 
 when it came to an open struggle; but John Hurst had never 
 struck the lad, as he himself bore witness. The power was 
 something deeper than any physical force. 
 
 Victor yielded sullenly. He had no choice of trades or place. 
 I am not sure but he would have been better satisfied with a 
 peddler's pack and freedom.' But all these years the slow general 
 dislike had been culminating into a special hatred. Because 
 Norcross was a gentleman, it did not follow that his workmen 
 were. Now and then some choice hand came from over the 
 water, with old-world ways, like Connor and Garrick ; the latter 
 of whom hardly had his equal in the country for tempering steel. 
 
 Victor tried to keep in with his boyish friends at first, but his 
 father's keen surveillance was too much. If he remained out 
 late of an evening, both parents sat up until the hour of his 
 return. Once John Hurst had fetched him home from a 
 roystering company of card-players. Well for him, perhaps, as 
 some of the crowd found themselves in jail before daylight. 
 
 And then came a brief change. One of those spasmodic 
 revivals which sweep the length and breadth of the land drew 
 Victor Hurst in its current. For awhile his mother was almost
 
 With Fate against Him. 5i 
 
 in heaven. She had never known so sweet a satisfaction in her 
 whole life. 
 
 Was the creed too narrow, that he outgrew it so soon ? For 
 the hymns, and prayers, and sermons lost their power ; and 
 after that a dread and terrible vacuity fell upon him. Every 
 thing failed to charm. The fires of the soul roused for an 
 instant, and then, unemployed, burned sullenly, leaving a 
 blackened desert waste. 
 
 From that time the rebellion had gone on gaining strength. 
 But one favorable feature in it was that he outgrew the old 
 companions as well. A new and finer sense seemed springing 
 up within him ; but with every day's unfolding, his toil, from 
 being simply distasteful, became an abhorrence. 
 
 So he had made another struggle and failed. He thought 
 it over bitterly in the silence of his room. Was there some fate 
 to step in always? But he had given fair warning now. Next 
 May he would be a free man, and August was half gone. 
 
 Out here, in this half country-place, the night dews soon 
 cooled the air and the roofs of the houses. Soft airs went 
 wandering by, sentient with a life that touched him, and that 
 he could not understand, which perplexed him from its vast- 
 ness, its underlying strand of solemn yet exquisite pleasures. 
 
 Presently, he shook out a roll of drawings. Not valves, and 
 pistons, and wheels, and rings his taste did not run that way. 
 Some quaint severe studies a massive arm and clinched swell 
 ing fist, a shapely ankle and foot, a few faces rude almost to 
 savageness, but wonderfully expressive. 
 
 "No, I'm not a genius," he commented, with a kind of 
 regal scorn. "But if I could have a fair chance if the 
 world does not crowd me too hard yes, the only salvation is 
 to go away." 
 
 He took up his pencil, but did not draw any. It fell from 
 his listless fingers presently, and the delicate chin dropped 
 upon his breast, the eyes wandering far off into some visionary 
 future. For the soul that stirred within him seemed so strong,
 
 52 With Fate against Him. 
 
 so capable. If there was only a place in which to begin ! If 
 he had been some other man's son, with the birthright of wealth 
 and culture ! 
 
 He scarcely stirred until he heard his father enter. The 
 low hum of voices floated up to him, and once he rose, walk 
 ing slowly toward the window. The vast, silent night brooded 
 over all. Millions of stars that might be worlds trembled in 
 infinite space. Did God hold them all in the hollow of His 
 hand ? Was there any power great enough for that ; and if 
 so, would this wonderful possessor of all knowledge trouble 
 Himself about the paltry concerns of human beings here, and 
 the low, vile souls down in Kent's Lane ? Did He demand 
 that any other life should be spent in the useless effort of 
 humanizing them just as John Hurst was doing? For he 
 remembered hearing his mother say once, that his father had 
 given up a good business to become a minister. 
 
 Victor slept rather late the next morning, and was aroused 
 by his mother's voice. When he entered the tidy kitchen his 
 father was in his place by the small stand, an open Bible before 
 him. The same old life, with nothing unchanged in it. 
 
 The morning prayer, simple, touching in its fervor ; for the 
 man was earnest and honest. No one was forgotten the son 
 in the family circle, the souls stranded on desert shores per 
 ishing by hundreds, and grace for his own, lest after having 
 preached to others he himself might become a castaway. 
 
 Anah Hurst poured the coffee, and waited upon the table 
 with a sweet, silent grace. She seemed very beautiful to Victor 
 this morning, though she was paler than usual. 
 
 "Where is your napkin ?" she asked, presently, not finding 
 it in the basket. 
 
 "Oh " and he remembered the outburst of yesterday. 
 " I did not bring it home. Never mind my lunch, mother. I 
 do not want any." 
 
 " Why?" And she glanced up with a strange misgiving. 
 
 "It is too warm to eat at noon."
 
 With Fate against Him. 63 
 
 " But to wait all day " and the mother's heart was seized 
 with a chill foreboding. 
 
 "I can't eat it;" and the emphasis was impatient, though 
 he did not mean it to be so. 
 
 John Hurst took a slow survey of his son, and for a moment 
 appeared to be on the verge of speaking, then checked himself 
 and was silent. 
 
 " If I want anything, I will buy a few crackers," said Victor. 
 
 Just at the door he turned back and gave his mother a glance. 
 If she could have seen what was in his heart, she need not 
 have shivered with such deadly fear. 
 
 "Good-morning." 
 
 No tender kiss, no little fondness between the mother and 
 child. Was it right? Did God demand the sacrifice of all 
 human love? 
 
 Was it God? When she allowed John Hurst to interpret His 
 teaching, and resigned herself to a guidance she thought so 
 much wiser than her own, was she not disloyal to something 
 higher than man's interpretation ? And farther back had she 
 elected rightly in the choice of this child's father ? 
 
 For it had come to this, that father and son were drifting 
 wider apart with every day that passed. To which should she 
 cling ? Ah, if it came to that 
 
 " Anah,"her husband said, "after your dishes are put away, 
 get your bonnet and walk down to Kent's Lane with me. They 
 need a woman's hands in that God-forsaken place, and a 
 woman's voice might find its way to souls that I cannot 
 reach." 
 
 She was sore-hearted and weary herself, longing for some 
 tender words how, then, should she comfort others ? And 
 the anchor to which her faith had been securely bound these 
 many years, had slipped its moorings, dragging her over rough 
 rock and shifting sands. 
 
 "Not this morning," she said, with a strange tremor in hei 
 voice.
 
 54 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Is not God's work of more importance than ours?" in a 
 slow, grave tone. 
 
 "It is not that, not that," wanderingly, as if the sound of 
 her own voice amazed her. "But I am not well;" with a 
 shiver. 
 
 He guessed that she was fretting inwardly because Victor 
 had refused his lunch. If it had been from any other cause 
 he might have endeavored to persuade. 
 
 "Well," with a-kind of wounded gravity, "I will do my 
 best alone." 
 
 And then he went out. She watched him down the street, 
 shambling awkwardly along. Anah Hurst was in a peculiarly 
 sensitive mood this morning. It seemed to jar upon some 
 nice sense or old remembrance of better times. Quite an old 
 man already, and losing the vigor that once characterized him. 
 Again the thought entered her mind had she done wisely in 
 marrying John Hurst ? If it came to an open issue, which 
 would be dearer, husband or child ? 
 
 She went around in a wear)', listless fashion. A cloud 
 appeared to overshadow her ; something awesome and intan 
 gible. The poor helpless, souls down in Kent's Lane were as 
 nothing to her to-day. 
 
 She had just spread up Victor's bed, and was tenderly caress 
 ing the branch of woodbine that he was training round the 
 window inside, many shades paler than its wild, riotous com 
 panions without, when a quick, manful step startled her. She 
 glanced down he looked up and smiled. In another instant 
 he had mounted the stairs. 
 
 "Victor!" ' 
 
 But the fresh, eager face was not one to create alarm. No 
 fatal conspiracy was hidden in these genial lines. 
 
 "I can't help it," he exclaimed with a boy's eagerness. 
 " I'm glad of the holiday, for it would have half killed me 
 to go on." 
 
 " But what has happened ?"
 
 With Fate against Him. 55 
 
 "Oh !" and he tried to look grave because he thought he 
 must. "Old Mr. Norcross died last night, and is to be 
 buried to-morrow. The Works will be shut up for two days." 
 
 "And you t" 
 
 " I am going off for a ramble where, I cannot tell. Nay, 
 do not look disquieted. I shall do nothing that will shock 
 you. I want to run off to the mountains for a breath of fresh, 
 free air. Put me up a little bread anything you may happen 
 to have and to-morrow night you will see me again." 
 
 It had been so long since he had worn such a smile. The 
 old gloomy frown was a thing of the past, dropped with the 
 work-day world. 
 
 "And you are glad to go?" with a touching sadness in her 
 tone. 
 
 "Glad !" He came nearer, placed his hands gently upon 
 her shoulders, she realizing with a little pang how very far he 
 had outgrown her. And then a kind of confused flush suf 
 fused his face. 
 
 "Yes, I am glad 1 You do not want me to tell an untruth 
 about it. Should I be the happier for staying here .in a gloomy 
 frame of mind because because a man is dead ? If his faith 
 was true, he is better in heaven to-day ; and then he was an 
 old man. But life and freedom are sweet to me, so let me 
 enjoy them in my rare holiday." 
 
 "I will not persuade you to stay;" and she choked down 
 the great throb of pain in her throat. "But you will come 
 back ?" 
 
 "I promised you last night," he said, huskily. "I had a 
 hard fight with rrjy 'familiar,'" and his voice dropped still 
 lower. "I told you that my father should have no cause to 
 condemn me in thai matter. So I shall return to-morrow night." 
 
 She went down stairs. He threw off his gray blouse with an 
 air of disdain, and habited himself in last night's attire. A 
 small roll of paper, a pencil, and note-book were thrust into a 
 travelling satchel. Then he rejoined his mother.
 
 56 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "There is so little," she said, regretfully. " If I had 
 known " 
 
 "A crust of bread will taste good out there under the trees, 
 flavored with freedom. It is sufficient." 
 .He packed it in and shut the clasp with a sharp click. 
 
 " Good-by nothing will happen to me, save that I shall be 
 the better for the change." 
 
 He flung the strap over his shoulder, and stooping, gave 
 her a long, tender kiss, so sudden, so sweet, that it brought 
 the tears to her eyes. 
 
 "I am an ungrateful dog," he exclaimed, vehemently. 
 "You do love me. Mother ! Mother !" 
 
 The words still rang in her ears as she saw him striding over 
 toward the woods, a young Apollo, the sun glinting on his 
 tawny hair, his limbs strong, supple, graceful, his step light, 
 his whole air joyous as a bird. And an hour's freedom had 
 so changed him. 
 
 Oh, God ! what if he had been born free I
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN hour's freedom ! The first perfect holiday of his life 
 lather. For over such anniversaries as Christmas, New Year, 
 Thanksgiving, and Fourth of July, John Hurst had hitherto 
 kept strict watch. He labored for this child's soul with an 
 earnestness that could hardly have failed to touch an older per 
 son. But the seeds of heathenism spring up apace in youth ; 
 and perhaps, having once turned from the narrow way in a kind 
 of disgust, it left him in a mood for the license of the fascinat 
 ing broad path. 
 
 When he listened to the announcement of the death, his 
 first thought was what he should do with the two days ; his 
 second, a decision. He would go off to solitude. Not al 
 together in the fashion of the monks of old there should be 
 little fasting or praying, but much enjoyment. No narrow 
 bounds to chafe against, no measured words to rasp the sensi 
 tive nerves of his soul with every-day practical uses. None of 
 his kind even, for Victor Hurst had reached that morbid, mis 
 anthropic state where he fancied that his fellow-creatures were 
 all in league against him. Youth so often mistakes self-torture 
 for heroism. 
 
 He plunged into the wood, cleared of its under-brush by the 
 continual forays of gleaning. He took the direct path through, 
 and traversed the. open country until he reached the foot of 
 the range of mountains, merely high hills at this point, but 
 breaking the scenery for miles beyond with their purple crest. 
 Through the next valley flowed a river, a lovely stream empty 
 ing miles farther on into the Susquehanna. He wanted to see 
 the place once again.
 
 58 With Fate against Him. 
 
 The day was less scorching than the preceding one. A soft 
 gray under-roof of cloud lingered above the tree-tops in hazy 
 tenderness, yet our traveller was warm and tired. It was noon 
 already, so he sat down to rest, plucking some half-ripe sum 
 mer grapes, the acid quenching his thirst. The winding road 
 lay like a silver cord between the masses of foliage on either 
 side, the sunshine now and then straggling through in dim, 
 golden lights. There was the cool plashing of a stream at 
 some little distance, coming faintly to his ears on the low 
 wind. Squirrels ran in and out and chattered with an amus 
 ing air of importance, a cricket began to chirp at his feet, and 
 myriads of tiny insects swung in the soft woodland mosses, or 
 drowsed in some tiny flower-cup. 
 
 ! It was so different from the world down yonder ! He could 
 believe in a God out here he had lapsed that far into hea 
 thenism that he had begun to question the existence of a Su 
 preme Being ; but here he saw His handiwork, His majesty, as 
 if it was not writ in the souls of those who grovelled in the 
 valley! 
 
 After awhile he took the bread out of his knapsack, for to 
 day he was hungry. A bird hopped up the rich turf at his 
 feet, and he threw her some crumbs, laughing at the manner 
 in which she turned one eye upon him. 
 
 Hark ! what was that ? 
 
 For a gale of melody quivered through the trees something 
 that was not summer wind blown about, nor voices of dryads 
 disporting themselves. A tremble of exquisite sound, at which 
 the wind paused to find itself mocked, the leaves stood still 
 and questioned each other mutely, and the distant brook 
 ceased to babble for very shame. 
 
 Had Victor Hurst been better read in mythological lore he 
 might have dreamed himself into an Arcadian trance ; as it 
 was, he sprang up and listened, placing his hand behind his 
 ear and bending his head, which had the pose an artist would 
 have loved, a kingly Titan head, with its cloud of tawny hair.
 
 With Fate against Him. 5 9 
 
 "A wanderer like myself, mayhap, but oh, the voice of 
 music ! Was ever sound so sweet?" 
 
 As he listened it seemed to grow nearer and more distinct. 
 *~~-r* Nothing save a violin could so translate the fine harmonies of 
 ft" nature, thrilling the spaces with a half human voice. Now it 
 was a lark " singing at heaven's gate," anon a rustle of sum 
 mer wind through the pines, and then the careless trill of 
 happy song. 
 
 "I must find him !" Victor exclaimed ; his face aglow with 
 interest. 
 
 With that he thrust the unfinished bread back into its recep 
 tacle, and the bunch of unripe grapes. Hunger, thirst, and 
 the morbid distaste of his, kind vanished at once. 
 
 Guided by the sound, he began to climb, having first cut a 
 stout walking-stick. His ear was wonderfully acute, and he 
 could tell in a few moments whether he swerved to the right 
 or to the left. 
 
 Presently the melody ceased, but he still kept on. Through 
 tangled wilds, luxuriant growth of rankest vines, and a few 
 stray blossoming creepers with clusters of gorgeous flowers. 
 Great rugged tree-trunks covered with festoons of bearded 
 moss, or graceful hangings of some glossy parasite. Now and 
 then a swaying branch lurched in his face, or a too familiar 
 thorn caught him in its untender embrace. Nearer the top, 
 vegetation grew less dense. 
 
 He gave a long, clear whistle that went trilling into the 
 hollows, breaking into a hundred lingering echoes. 
 
 The sound of the violin reassured him. Farther down on 
 the brow of the mountain he had gone a little astray without 
 a guide. But he trudged on with the vigor that so charac 
 terized the man. Nearer, nearer. 
 
 " Hillo, comrade !" 
 
 A laughing voice, hardly less musical than the sound 
 evoked by skilful fingers. Through an opening he espied a 
 figure reclining against a moss-covered oak.
 
 60 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Victor stopped short, and colored, partly with pleasure, 
 partly with embarrassment. 
 
 "Advance, comrade," and the other half rose. There was 
 a curious beguiling strand in his voice. Victor flushed boy 
 ishly and still hesitated. 
 
 ' ' No Orpheus, you see, unless I have won my Eurydice of 
 the other sex. Not even the Pied Piper ; for only a few squir 
 rels and one stray bird have responded." 
 
 "I heard the sound and followed," Victor said, half in 
 apology. 
 
 "Thank you,'' laughingly. "Sit down. My sofas are 
 luxuriant and covered with richest velvet. What can a king 
 have that is lovelier?" 
 
 Victor glanced around, his eyes drooping bashfully at the 
 speaker, who seemed less, and yet more than a man ; a kind 
 of unreal or fabulous personage. 
 
 A peculiar face and figure, its chief attribute being a won 
 derful, indolent grace. At the utmost he would be barely 
 medium size, though his limbs were in perfect, harmonious 
 proportion. The head was rather aristocratic, and the delicate 
 face was one whose beauty grew upon you, though your first 
 verdict would be against its apparent effeminacy. The features 
 were finely cut, mobile, changing with every mood of their 
 owner, when he chose, and none could be more reticent when 
 the whim took him. The brow was that of a poet, the eyes 
 large, soft, dreamy, wells of shady darkness, but infinitely 
 tender, and with a glimpse of rare humor that might make 
 him a satirist, but too generous ever to be bitter. There was 
 a delicate mockery in every feature ; in the smile, and you 
 could detect it in the voice if you listened warily, yet it was 
 not that of scorn or contempt ; rather a genial sparkle, like 
 that of the bead to wine. 
 
 Victor's first feeling was one of surprise, his next, a faint 
 sense of disappointment. In his vague and undefined hunger, 
 he fancied that it was strength and not weakness which his 
 soul needed to satisfy its craving.
 
 With Fate against Hint. 61 
 
 The other smiled inwardly at the stranger's perplexity, and 
 the crudeness written upon the vigorous but immature face, 
 
 " Sit down," he said again. " You are warm and tired, and 
 this is a little Eden without the serpent. It was not all a 
 myth, the old story. In the general wreck, fragments of 
 beauty have been saved, and blossom as purely as in that far 
 land. You like the music, I think !" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer he drew the bow across the 
 strings, evoking a faint, wandering strain that grew stronger as 
 it thrilled through the leafy arches. 
 
 If he was sounding the depths of the unformed boyish soul, 
 he could hardly have touched more pathetic chords. Perhaps 
 he guessed ; for in their idle babble floated the melody of the 
 distant stream, the voice of the whispering wind, and the even 
 song of birds, with an under-current of pathos akin to pain, 
 forceful touches that seemed to penetrate all the dim and 
 hidden recesses of one's being ; a vague, haunting sorrow that 
 presently became a most exquisite torture. 
 
 "Not that," Victor cried in a tone of passionate pain. "It 
 goes too deep, it is too true." 
 
 "Did I hurt you? Forgive me. There is a voice in it 
 that will out sometimes, speaking through unguided fingers. 
 Listen to this." 
 
 A gay little French chanson, with a rush and a ring that 
 made the very air laugh in echo. He let the last note drop 
 down amid the mosses and wild-flowers. 
 
 " That is better, perhaps, for to-night I play for peasants to 
 dance, dreaming of their vineyards and olives, their black bread 
 and wine. Will you bear a hand, comrade ? Paul Latour at 
 your service a Bohemian of the Bohemians. Though why 
 an industrious, stay-at-home people should be thus libelled, I 
 cannot imagine. I like the old graceful and graceless "vag 
 abond, better." 
 
 "Where do you find peasants?" asked Victor in amaze. 
 
 "At Bohmerwald, a dozen miles or so down the river." 
 
 "A settlement of "
 
 6^ With Fate against Him. 
 
 " Bona fide Bohemians that put our vagrant habits to shame. 
 The women sing as they cut grain with a sickle, having learned 
 nothing by the march of improvement, poor things !" 
 
 Victor had heard of the place, but thus far his travels had 
 been necessarily restricted. Dancing and a violin ! Why it 
 would be going straight to the evil one ! A smile crossed his 
 scarlet lips. 
 
 Latour answered it. 
 
 "You will go? After a week's solitude a companion will 
 be an agreeable change." 
 
 "I have a brief holiday. If I could be back to-morrow 
 night" hesitatingly. "But you know nothing about me," 
 in surprise. 
 
 "I have no money of which to be robbed, and if I were 
 murdered I should die with the consolation that I had been 
 spared an uncomfortable old age. But you look honest 
 enough, comrade. As for the rest it is not worth a thought ; 
 and he laughed gayly. "Who needs vouchers* for respect 
 ability out here in the woods ? I am a vagabond myself! 
 
 " I am a merry beggar, 
 
 And a beggar I was born, 
 Tossed about the wide world 
 From evening until morn." 
 
 The voice in which he sang this was rich and mellow, and 
 he ended with a peal of merriment that rippled down the 
 hill-side in entrancing echoes. 
 
 To Victor the whole thing had the suggestion of an adven 
 ture. As well watch peasants dance as to be sleeping in the 
 wood. 
 
 " Come. A crumb is as good as a feast sometimes, pro 
 vided it have the right flavor. You shall be back to-morrow 
 night there is my hand upon it." 
 
 He reached out a small, girlish hand, but sun-burned to a 
 point beyond his olive skin. 
 
 "I will go with you."
 
 With Fate against Him. 63 
 
 " Good. My boat lies down at the river's edge. It is past 
 noon I believe, and the last of my luncheon was left farther up 
 the hill for the squirrels. Enough was the feast, and to-night 
 provides for itself." 
 
 "I have lunched," was the brief reply. 
 
 "Shall we find our way down the mountain, then? We can 
 drowse and dream in the boat. " 
 
 ' ' As you like. " 
 
 Latour rose with graceful agility. Yet Victor smiled oddly, 
 it seemed as if he might have perched the other on his 
 shoulder and scarcely felt the weight. i * 
 
 "You are not a stranger here?" with a ifoft questioning 
 glance. ' 
 
 "No;" blushing, "I live in the town beyond I almost 
 think you can see its black smoke going up to heaven as an 
 abomination." 
 
 "You do not like the life down there?" in a peculiar tone. 
 
 " Like it ! Does a man choose slavery of his own free will?" 
 grinding his heel into the soft mosses, and crushing out 
 swarms of insect life. 
 
 "There have been such anomalies, my friend. A regular 
 life mapped out by hours : so much work, so much sleep, so 
 much eating of fine bread and the fat of lambs, so much purple 
 and linen, and one travels by easy stages to the grave. The 
 white marble over you vouches for your respectability." 
 
 A light, ironical smile hovered about the lips, playing 
 through the fine beard like some far ray of summer lightning. 
 
 " The purple may make one more content. But when it is 
 serge and a crust " 
 
 He paused with an abrupt, impatient gesture. 
 
 "That means not a stiver to lose a toss-up either way. 
 Then I should take the freedom," glancing at him with keen 
 eyes. " Why so brief a holiday ?" 
 
 "With me it is another man's honor, another man's word ;" 
 giving a short, uncadcnced laugh, that had in it the roused,
 
 64 With Fate against Him. 
 
 almost tigerish mood. "I go back because I must. Some 
 chains never clank, you know, but they do worse." 
 
 "And you pay in groans for superior civilization ! See what 
 it is to have been -born a vagabond !" 
 
 With that he touched the violin again, and carolled a brief 
 snatch of Goethe's mill-song. 
 
 ' ' Let us sing with the birds, my friend, before the next storm 
 drenches us, and drives us to silence. And now, I bethink my 
 self, that it is time to move on. Down this path, I believe. 
 You know the way ?" 
 
 "I have rambled over it a few times," with boyish hesitancy. 
 
 Latour vaulted over rocks, fallen trees, and matted under 
 growth, as if he had been a practised gymnast. Victor was 
 not far behind. But Latour broke into a wild gipsy chorus, 
 while the other kept the silence of wonder. Something in the 
 man won upon him curiously. Perhaps a touch of the free 
 life as well. 
 
 They reached the shore ere long. The river widening in 
 and out among the tall hills, its cool green taking tint from the 
 overhanging foliage. In a sheltered nook lay a tiny bark 
 moored to a broken stump. 
 
 "Embark, my friend. I cannot promise you Grecian isles, 
 or groves of Admetus, but the place is not deficient in beauty. 
 It needs only the old gods ; but when Pan died, they vanished. 
 Are the idols of gold and silver so much better, that men drain 
 out their life-blood for them ?" 
 
 Victor flushed swarthily in shame, and a consciousness of 
 ignorance. Ah, if he could leave that old life behind ! 
 
 They both stepped in. Latour took the oars. 
 
 " No, let me, if I shall not distress you by my awkwardness. 
 I like it." 
 
 Latour seated himself in the stern, and laid his violin across 
 his lap as if it had been a tender human nursling. For an 
 instant, he almost envied the tawny Titan facing him, whose 
 bright locks shook off glinting lights on the purple river air.
 
 With Fate against Him. 65 
 
 Not a coarse fibre in that brain, no craven blood in those full, 
 throbbing veins. 
 
 " And such souls are coined into gold for grasping masters !'' 
 he mused. " Do they never dare break the chains forged by 
 custom ?" 
 
 The breeze died away the river valley was profoundly still. 
 On the one side, a series of hills rising one above the other ; 
 here gray and craggy with a faded growth of rock-moss, 
 browned by the sun ; there, in soft quivering lights, the wooden 
 clumps creeping closer and stretching out long green arms. 
 Far nooks in black shadow, a dead tree rising high and grim, 
 rent and blackened by some fearful storm, jutting boldly out, 
 flaunting the old tale of the nearness of death in the face of the 
 few passers-by. The oar plashing into the resisting waters, 
 making circles of foam and bringing into life thousands of 
 fantastic echoes farther up the stream, as if wood-nymphs were 
 holding high carnival. 
 
 "My friend, you take life too hard," Latour exclaimed, 
 coming out of his reverie. " For the rowing is no question of 
 life or death. No watchful dame will grumble if the tea be 
 cold." 
 
 "But they expect you !" 
 
 "At seven, or thereabout. Do not fatigue yourself." 
 
 " Fatigue !" with an intonation of contempt. 
 
 " Do not turn pleasure into pain, then. It is the evil of our 
 life. A rare old philosopher once said, that curses were only 
 distorted blessings." 
 
 Victor laughed with a pleasant sound in his voice, and his 
 face relaxed a trifle. 
 
 "You are right," he returned. "We have the whole after 
 noon before us, and it is not so far. But I was thinking " 
 
 "A dangerous employment, comrade. Can it help or 
 hinder ? And the grand secret of life lies in extracting the 
 sweet and leaving the bitter. " 
 
 " But some one has to take that."
 
 66 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " If any poor benighted soul longs for it. and can be happy 
 on a supper of thistles only, I, for one, will not stand in the 
 way. But you should have a fancy for ripe, rare flavors, the 
 bloom of the peach, and the purple frost of the grape; or youi 
 nature has gone astray with some hard wrench." 
 
 " My nature !" catching up the words eagerly. "If you can 
 read beneath the surface " 
 
 " Sometimes," nodding his head and gazing dreamily at the 
 opposite shore. "I have seen many men much of life in 
 others." 
 
 Self-knowledge is perhaps the most fascinating of all lore to 
 the young. To dive down into unknown depths and stir up 
 pearls with a great pang, to probe the far recesses of being and 
 the mysteries by which it is surrounded, even if the questions 
 are unanswerable, is like manna to famishing souls. 
 
 "Read mine," he said. It was rather command than en-' 
 treaty. 
 
 ' Latour sent a peal of soft, elfin notes over the water. Victor 
 looked perplexed, angered. His face showed too plainly the 
 space his moods traversed, the highest heaven and the nether 
 most hell possible to him, that indeed lay brooding in the 
 great, unquiet soul, goading him so often into rebellion 
 against the fate that girded him about like fire. 
 
 "A restless soul, if you will; a soul of giant needs, and 
 wants, and daring. You are too late for your era. You should 
 have been born with the old Crusaders." 
 
 He dimly remembered Godfrey of Boulogne, and Bertrand 
 du Guesclin, the forbidden romance of his boyhood. 
 
 "But I was not," he replied bitterly. 
 
 "And the hot blood chafes in your veins. The days ot 
 foolish chivalry are over. To-day half matured bodies and 
 brains go about seeking a great work ; meddling with undi 
 gested reforms, and keeping the world in a state of chaos. 
 And what is it when all told ? A fortune that a man will not 
 spend, a little fame that the next puff of wind blows away, or
 
 With Fate against Him. 67 
 
 a few souls taken out of their groove, clipped, bound, fash 
 ioned into an unnatural form saved, I believe your church 
 men call it. My God ! is heaven to be filled with such poor, 
 maimed, and shackled bodies ?" 
 
 "I am not even that generous," gloomily. "It is for my 
 self." 
 
 "Well, what can a man have but food and raiment? So 
 little suffices him, if he would but believe it." 
 
 " If it is what he wants." 
 
 "And you want too much. Pah ! Is the whole thing 
 worth the trouble ? You make a fortune, and the men who 
 would have kicked you yesterday, smile on you to-day. You 
 woo a mistress, and while your kisses are dewy wet on her 
 lips, another revels in the fragrance. Has the wine a bitter 
 flavor ?" 
 
 "It is not fortune, it is not love, but only a place in the 
 world, where I should fit without all this friction." 
 
 "A man fits out here in the free air. The trees tell him 
 no lies, his couch of moss is thornless. Does not a day like 
 this make amends for all ? A little merriment and good cheer, 
 a long holiday under clear skies, the twitter of birds, the cool 
 voice of the' stream. And to-morrow a new sunrise, a new 
 day, the evil sufficient for the hours. Why drag them into 
 this ?" 
 
 Victor listened in dim amaze. If all the world took up this 
 vagrant, gipsy life 
 
 "The creed is too broad for you !" with a rippling, flute 
 like laugh. "You have gained yours in the city yonder, 
 where a man's brawn and brain is weighed against so much 
 gold. Society says, ' Marry, become a good and useful citizen 
 of the state :' greed says, ' If this man see starvation written in 
 his wife's faded eyes, and every line of his children's meagre 
 frames, he will go down into the festering mass and sweat 
 drops of gold for us. Give him wife and children. And so 
 the pool is always full. Are you going down into it?"
 
 68 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "I am nol going down into it, so help me God !" shutting 
 his lips with a pressure that turned their scarlet into blue, their 
 laughter into pain. 
 
 "A man is his own God in these matters;" shrugging his 
 shoulders with a dainty grace. 
 
 "Then you do not believe " 
 
 " In a God ? Yes. In a clean, pure God, in a God that 
 speaks to the souls of men through His clear, sweet voices. 
 Does not the bird call to matin song when he praises the Lord 
 for his glad, joyous life? Does not the forest utter speech of 
 Him, the waters murmur His name as they glide onward to 
 the sea ? Do you need that vile, struggling crowd down yon 
 der, where the mothers beat their squalid children, and the 
 husbands murder their wives in drunken fury, to convince you 
 of His existence ? Ah, well, I think it would make me dis 
 believe." 
 
 The eyes were no longer dreamy but sparkling with scorn, 
 disgust ; and the flexible lip curled as if it shrank from some 
 taint in the air. 
 
 The contrast came to Victor in an absolutely grotesque 
 fashion. His father on the one side going down to the depths 
 for these lost, polluted souls ; and this man leaving them to die 
 in their own corruption, passing them by and holding his 
 slender fingers in the fragrant air that even the imaginary taint 
 might be blown away. Was this the medicine he needed for 
 his soul ? 
 
 "Pah ! Let it all go. Look at yonder slant of sunshine. 
 And yet, poor human eyes that see no beauty in that, rave 
 about a painted picture. The world is awry, my fine fellow !" 
 
 Victor glanced straight onward. The river broadened here, 
 and through an irregular defile the westward sun poured in, 
 soft with the purpling haze of mountain-tops. Long rays of 
 floating, capricious vapor, tinted with gold and crimson, en 
 tangling the confused crests and ridges of the dark hills, or 
 couching in amethystine masses like a fairy troupe at the
 
 With Fate against Him. 69 
 
 mouth of shadowy caves. And beyond, the clouds in the 
 northern sky gathering themselves into white towers and fort 
 resses, behind whose battlements the forces of the falling 
 night watched the rosy flocks disperse, for the glory of day 
 was coming slowly to an end. 
 
 Latour tuned his violin and they glided on in silence. Not* 
 a footstep to startle them or the familiar birds, not a human 
 face to peer at them curiously. It seemed to Victor as if they 
 were in some far solitude. 
 
 But presently one side of the river grew more open. Vast 
 tracts of yellow stubble, clover-grown in some places, the 
 ripening corn nodding its yellow-tasselled head, signs of life in 
 the quaint idle mill, the ducks paddling at the edge of the 
 stream busy with droning gossip, the orchards heavy with fruit, 
 and the infrequent houses. 
 
 " Let me relieve you !" 
 
 But Victor would not, though his arms ached and his hands 
 were blistered. 
 
 And then the twilight dropped over them, the sun being 
 hidden by the chain of mountains. Both were silent, and 
 both were studying each other ; but with one it was the inex 
 perience of youth, the other with the careless half-satire, half- 
 sympathy of five and thirty years, spent in rambling from clime 
 to clime, and laughing occasionally at human nature under its 
 thin disguises. 
 
 "At Bohemia," he said, starting a little. "To-morrow 
 the toil is mine, remember." 
 
 And Victor Hurst saw the quaint settlement before him.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE barley sheaves were stacked, and the long-bearded 
 heads glistened goldenly in the light of the young moon. 
 The field had been gleaned and the summer harvesting was 
 done. Great low-browed barns filled with fragrant hay, oats, 
 rye, wheat, safely housed ; cattle lowing in their wide yards, 
 and busy figures running to and fro, with an unmusical con 
 fusion of sound. 
 
 A quaint scene, indeed. You find northern and western 
 Pennsylvania dotted with these odd settlements, where old- 
 world customs are intact where dress, language, and all the 
 minutice are still unchanged. These women, in their, coarse, 
 heavy shoes, their scant skirts and gay festival short-gowns, 
 gave no heed to the fashions of the world without. Sun- 
 browned were they, square of shoulder and heavy of limb, 
 large-handed and with short, squat fingers, looking as if they 
 might have been amputated at the first joint. 
 
 Not beautiful, certainly. Ground down to the last morsel 
 of mouldy black bread for generations, with but an occasional 
 whiff of garlic or a handful of lentils, and no break in the 
 toil, would you expect fine souls and large brains, clear skins 
 and soft, expressive eyes ? As the world rolls on, their birth 
 right, out of which they have been cheated, may come back 
 to them ; for, 
 
 " The world goes up and the world goes down." 
 
 Yet, in their way, they are happy. No perplexing social 
 problems, no effort at grandeur, no fretting at the narrow 
 groove in which they run smoothly from midsummer to mid 
 summer, with marriages, births, christenings, and harvests, and 
 the infrequent funeral.
 
 With Fate against Him. 7 1 
 
 The cottages were low and plain, but the soft moonlight 
 gave them a certain picturesqueness. On the smooth green 
 sward stood the long table, draped with the holiday-cloth, 
 rarely seen, save at a festival. 
 
 No black bread now, and yet as little of what the world calls 
 luxury. No piles of luscious viands, jellies, ices, creams ; but 
 wholesome fruits, golden-hearted cake, snowy bread in bounti 
 ful slices, great hams ready to carve, cheese yellow and soft, 
 and some old-country concoctions, that, after all, were not dis 
 tasteful, even to cultivated palates. And the healthy, heart- 
 some faces, the clear, strong voices, had in 'them a touch of the 
 high hills and broad meadows, the ring of satisfied toil ; not 
 the thin, sharp tone of a starved body and overfed brain. 
 
 Paul was as one of them. He knew their language even to 
 the broad patois, and understood their ways, their jests, and 
 laughter. He played the old songs of Fatherland for them, 
 and joined in the ringing chorus. And yet how different ! 
 Victor smiled inwardly. 
 
 "Is it dull, comrade?" 
 
 "Dull ? No. It's a strange picture to me, and I feel as if I 
 had wandered beyond the seas. But I like it." 
 
 "They are going to dance;" with a light smile. "Come 
 and join them." 
 
 " I ?" Victor drew back with the old boyish blush. 
 
 "Yes. These people do not study the grace or poetry of 
 motion. The women dance as they cut their grain, by the 
 hardest 1" 
 
 " Let me watch them here." 
 
 "There are some passable girls. Hark! what is that? 
 Audience for my fair friends 1" 
 
 A great lumbering wagon stopped, and amid much talk and 
 laughter, a gay crowd was handed out 
 
 "The fame of the festival has spread through the land. I 
 believe there is a hotel or something up the mountain, and 
 their own pleasures will not suffice."
 
 72 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Twelve or fifteen trooped out of the crowded wagon. Two 
 among them finished their merriment first, and stood silent, as 
 if feeling hardly at home ; a girl and a youth, brother and sister 
 Victor thought them at first. 
 
 And yet their faces were most unlike. She, a mere slip of 
 fifteen or thereabouts, petite, slender, with soft curling hair that 
 fell like a cloud to her waist, a fine, clear complexion, and 
 lovely blue eyes. A rosy, dainty picture, different from any 
 thing he had ever seen. 
 
 The other was slight as well, with the light hair arid blonde 
 characteristics ; but instead of the clear straightforward outlook 
 of the girl, his was weak, vascillating, selfish, and crafty. Not 
 a face to trust, Victor decided. 
 
 The dancing began. At first, the spectators laughed a little, 
 then a few of the more venturesome joined two or three 
 madcap girls ripe for a frolic, and as many young men. They 
 flavored it with the grace and elegance of cultivation. Faster 
 thrilled out the glowing sweetness and daring of the violin, 
 until all the summer-night air seemed to throb with sentiency. 
 If some kept time with brain and soul, and others with mere 
 slow, physical enjoyment, what matter ? 
 
 The hosts were courteous with overflowing German hospital 
 ity, and the guests fraternized speedily. Here a couple strayed 
 off to the veiling shadow of a great tree, shy even of the tender 
 moonlight so akin to the romance stirring in their hearts, albeit 
 a little dully according to their slow natures. 
 
 Even Victor's bashful mood was thawed by the general gay 
 good-humor. Paul dragged him here and there ; his hand was 
 grasped in a strong, heartsome welcome, and he translated the 
 strange tongue by the smiles and beaming eyes. 
 
 Presently he found himself in the vicinity of the girl he had 
 been unconsciously watching, or rather she came and threw 
 herself with the sweet abandon of fearless youth on the rude 
 bench beside him, and laughed out. her apology in German ; 
 but, oh, the music ! Could it be akin to these coarse tongues?
 
 With Fate against Him. 73 
 
 " I am not a German," stammering and blushing. 
 
 "Oh!" looking sharply at the hair of bronze, and ruddy 
 skin. "Then you don't belong to the settlement?" in an 
 impulsive tone. 
 
 " No. I came down the river with with Latour." 
 
 " Isn't he the musician ? They call him Paul." 
 
 "Yes. Do you like it?" 
 
 "It is a grand old name," in a meditative way. "Yes, 
 I like it. I like all names that seem to mean some 
 thing." 
 
 He smiled at her earnestness. 
 
 "And on the same principle, I always find fault with mine. 
 Sylvia Redmond. It carries no weight. It has no character!" 
 
 She was a charming picture of pretty, pettish dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Yes," he made answer. "Names ought to be the key 
 note. But one can tell so little about a child." 
 
 She was a trifle vexed that he did not compliment hers. 
 There were a good many small coquetries in her heart of fifteen, 
 but they were very sweet withal. 
 
 " How far down the river did you come ?" 
 
 "A dozen miles. But I left Weareham this morning." 
 
 "Oh, that's a great town !" looking oddly at him. "And 
 you are a friend of Paul Latour's. Tell me something about 
 him. It is a curious dark face ; Italian, I think, though the 
 name is French." 
 
 " I have been acquainted with him since noon, only." 
 
 She stared with a pretty, piquant grace, and laughed in short, 
 musical notes. 
 
 "It is an adventure," she said, with gleeful heedlessness. 
 " Mr. Gilliat tells me about them sometimes incidents of his 
 tours abroad." 
 
 "Your brother?" Victor returned nervously. "The fair 
 youth by whom you stood so long when you first left the 
 wagon ?" 
 
 "You saw us then?" pleased with the confessed notice.
 
 74 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "But he is not my brother I have none. It is Eustace 
 Gilliat." 
 
 Her announcement did not in the least seem to astonish this 
 stranger. Yet she had seen people wonderfully gratified by the 
 knowledge. 
 
 "I am glad he is not your brother ;" in a strange, relieved 
 tone. 
 
 "Why? Perhaps you don't know " in her winning, childish 
 eagerness. "It is such a grand old family. I like to look over 
 the old genealogy. There have been earls and dukes, and a 
 Sir Hugh Gilliat, who was a great royalist in the time of Charles 
 the First, -and a brave soldier. And Madame Gilliat came from 
 royalty. They were cousins Eustace's parents. And the house 
 is like a palace ! Do you know, I. sometimes wish that I could 
 be Eustace Gilliat !" 
 
 "Better a thousand times be yourself," a curious heat and 
 passion flushing his face and adding a touch of hoarse strength 
 to his voice. 
 
 "Mamma came of the Randolphs in Virginia. 'I'm proud 
 of that, though maybe it is not quite so grand as the Gilliat 
 descent, " meditatively. "I like this idea of pure old blood, 
 that has never been brought in contact with vulgarity or igno 
 rance, but kept clean and fine. I think it always speaks in a 
 person. " 
 
 A born aristocrat, dainty, refined, and no doubt exclusive, 
 when the lines came to be sharply drawn. Well, why should 
 he care if her clean, pure lines barred him without ? Why 
 should every nerve rise up in bristling resistance to her foolish 
 child's gossip ? 
 
 "And so," he began almost harshly, "youVare desirous of 
 taking that shallow, flavorless life in exchange for your bright 
 ness 1" 
 
 "Shallow ! What do you mean?" in a sudden heat. 
 
 "What I said ;" doggedly. "There's not a strong line in 
 his face, there's not a bit of energy in that girlish figure, and
 
 With Fate against Him. 75 
 
 if the old blood ever was rich and strong, it became diluted 
 before it reached his veins." 
 
 She gazed at her companion with an odd mixture of terror, 
 surprise, and offended dignity, blended with the interest that, 
 after all, overrules youth and renders it daring, incautious. 
 
 "He is very young, just past nineteen ; and then he has 
 lived abroad so much. Mr. Gilliat, you know, had a govern 
 ment appointment four years, and he has seen everything 
 is accomplished, and all that. Mamma likes him so much !" 
 
 ' ' And you ?" 
 
 Some deep interest urged him on, not mere morbid curios 
 ity. He had never talked so freely to any one in his life 
 quite as if he had a right. And she did not resent it, as a 
 girl with more pride or experience would have done. The 
 Randolph blood could not have made much headway in her 
 veins. 
 
 "He amuses and entertains me ;" rather pettishly. "And 
 he knows all about Paris and Baden-Baden, and it's like a 
 novel to hear him talk. But when he comes to a man's 
 life" 
 
 "Yes, when he comes to a man's life," with a touch of ex 
 citement in his voice, and his eyes growing darker, dimmer. 
 
 "It will be different, I suppose. If you could see Mr. Gil 
 liat ! He always seems like a story-book hero to me, so grand, 
 so courteous, so learned ; and as Eustace grows older he will 
 be more like his father." 
 
 "Does that follow ?" grimly, twisting the button on his gray 
 blouse. 
 
 "I think it ought. But that wasn't quite what I meant 
 when I wished to be in his place. It is a great thing to have 
 power, and wealth, and knowledge ; to be able to wrest the 
 secrets out of the earth and the air, to know why ^governments 
 fail or succeed, and why nations perish. I listen to them often 
 when they are talking in the great drawing-room at Rothermel, 
 and it seems of. so much more import: ace to be a man, and
 
 76 With Fate against Him. 
 
 not have your head full of silly trifles dresses, and laces, and 
 parties. But how can we help it ?" 
 
 She .looked so entirely sweet and beguiling, that Victor 
 Huist, foolish fellow, thought the world would sustain an 
 irreparable loss if in this case sex were reversed. 
 
 " Every man has a right to know this much !" with a fierce, 
 rapid underbreath that half strangled him in his abrupt tran 
 sition of thought. " And when he is crowded out of his place 
 by some cruel, unjust fate, the world cannot blame him if he 
 makes a hard fight and deals blows right and left !" 
 
 She looked at him in dim amaze. This was not quite the 
 creed of the gentlemen in the Gilliat drawing-room. Their 
 heroes and high souls were born to the position, and did not 
 have to fight their way up. Hard blows were connected, in her 
 mind, with the lower classes, poverty, degradation, and their 
 kindred. 
 
 He saw the surprise in her soft eyes, and it fretted him, for 
 he had fancied a moment ago that there was a delicate bridge 
 between them over which one might pass to the better knowl 
 edge of the other. And not understanding social problems 
 clearly, he was the more ready to parade his weapons for the 
 fray. 
 
 "It seems to me that a man has a right to bring himself 
 up to any height that he can reach, no matter if he came out of 
 the sloughs of the street ! If the fine, earnest soul is in him." 
 
 "But I think it never is in such people," venturing to fill 
 his pause. "The coarse, degraded lives, the common and 
 menial occupations, the low pleasures, and the lack of educa 
 tion unfits them for any sphere save their own. They would 
 not be happy out of it" 
 
 She had heard all this so often that it was like a lesson 
 learned by rote. She looked so graceful and dainty here in 
 the soft moonlight, the fine, pure complexion, the silken hair, 
 the almost haughty mouth and chin, the delicate child's hand, 
 slender and white, and all the elegant touches of dress, from
 
 With Fate against Him. 77 
 
 her bronze boot, restlessly crunching the grass, to the bit of 
 lace against her shapely, swelling throat. It affected him 
 curiously. His soul was full of awkward, rugged honesty, 
 and he would not win one word from her under a false 
 pretence. 
 
 "I think they could be happy elsewhere if they had a 
 chance. Many of them are able to understand the advantages 
 of education : they work for it, fight for it, starve for it. 
 Would your rich men's sons do this ? And if any soul can lift 
 itself up to the purer, higher level, what right have you and 
 your class to crowd him out?" 
 
 "I shouldn't crowd anybody out," falteringly. 
 
 "But you would tread upon him, crush him, as if he were 
 a worm who had dared to rear his head." 
 
 "Not such as you," she made answer, involuntarily, noting 
 the strong resolute eyes, and the fine lips he was compressing 
 in the heat of passion. It did not occur to her then that gen 
 tlemen of the Gilliat school never carried their tempers so 
 plainly in their faces. 
 
 " Why, I belong to the class you think incapable of redemp 
 tion !" with a short, bitter laugh. "But maybe I can feeVthe 
 most plainly what is stirring in my own soul. Yours set 
 bounds for it, but now and then one daring spirit flashes out of 
 the orbit made by men's hands. Victor Hurst means to do this." 
 
 She possessed a sweet, generous nature, and it was so used 
 to daily crossings, and thwartings, and ridicule, that she was 
 not angry now, as any other girl might have been. Indeed, 
 her habit of catching at any new idea, and following stray 
 whims, stood her in good stead. 
 
 "Victor," she said, softly, "somewhere along your line 
 there must have been a king. It is a king's name." 
 
 " There have been no kings," brusquely. " My father is a 
 plain, commonplace man ; my mother well, she could have 
 been a lady with the best of you. The small accident of birth 
 or wealth shut her out. I mean to overleap it."
 
 78 With Fate against Him. 
 
 His voice rang out with a sharp, electric force, and obeying 
 some sudden impulse, he rose and stood before her. 
 
 He was thinking of the far future, so bright with youthful 
 ambition, so possible as he felt the warm, vigorous blood 
 rushing through his veins in great, tumultuous bounds. He 
 would win something. He would stand before her and her 
 class one day, and say, proudly, " I am Victor Hurst. What 
 is the praise of your fragrant lips to me, when I remember 
 that last year they laughed me to scorn !" 
 
 She glanced at him as he towered before her, in the moon 
 light. Tall, arrowy-straight, haughty enough in this mood to 
 match the finest of her every-day princes, the fiery eyes sweep 
 ing the space between, and challenging her soul, as if it would 
 cleave an entrance therein ; the flexible nostrils panting with 
 inward heat, like a thorough-bred waiting impatiently for the 
 signal. A sense of awe and mystery crept over her ; a con 
 sciousness of a peculiar kind of power which had never before 
 bearded her in this fashion. 
 
 The music had ceased moments ago. The crowd was surg 
 ing to the long table, improved by the magical touch of excite- 
 men^ pleasure. Heavy eyes had brightened, dull lips were 
 scarlet and smiling, and the very air appeared full of chatter 
 and vivacity. The clatter of strange tongues, the quaint 
 dresses, the animation, gave the scene a peculiarly foreign ap 
 pearance. To Victor it was like a glimpse of a far country. 
 
 Miss Redmond's party were coming in search of her. Victor 
 drew back in the shadow of a great oak, his courage vanished 
 into diffidence. He saw so clearly, now, the gulf that divided 
 them. These women, in gay attire, and the haughty air of 
 superiority, their faces full of a kind of pleasant contempt, as 
 if, after all, they would not grudge these poor fools their enjoy 
 ment, as it would even afford them something to laugh about 
 to-morrow. 
 
 And yet they came to the simple feast Just for the sake of 
 criticising the homely fare, and distorting their faces a little
 
 With Fate against Him. 79 
 
 with the Rhine wine. No breach of hospitality therein, since 
 there could be no social equality. 
 
 Paul Latour laughed and jested with rare good-humor, 
 remembering festivals among other mountains. The young 
 men crowded to his vicinity awkward clowns, perhaps, but he 
 did not smile over their lack of polish. So they ate, drank, 
 and feasted with soul as well as body, breaking presently into 
 wild German choruses that made the woods ring out a thou 
 sand echoes. 
 
 After this, the staid matrons began to gather their dishes 
 and pile up the fragments. The younger ones entreated Paul 
 for some more music, and formed themselves into a ring on 
 the greensward. Victor strolled away in a curious mood of 
 unrest, for Sylvia's duenna seemed suddenly to have awakened 
 to her sense of duty, keeping the girl close to her. 
 
 Down by the river's edge, where the noiseless breath of night 
 wafted fleets of damp, fragrant odors, like a shadowy army. 
 Thinking of these dull, uneventful lives with their slow, brood 
 ing content : of those out yonder, rendered fine and keen by 
 the flow, of gold, wishes gratified, desires fulfilled, art, and 
 science, and culture at their feet, drifted up by the plenteous 
 sea. And he, neither dully content, nor having the means to 
 compass any vague dream. 
 
 What was that? A half-smothered cry, not one of pleasure 
 altogether, it seemed, then a voice of enireaty, a cruel, mock 
 ing laugh, a triumphant jest of some kind, as he could tell by 
 the tone. The chivalrous blood stirred within him, and yet he 
 paused until the cry was repeated, but this time more faintly. 
 
 Then he sprang forward. One of the young girls of the 
 "settlement," he could tell by her dress; and the other some 
 instinctive knowledge warned him that it was Eustace GilliaU 
 No sweet stolen kisses were these, but ravished from lips that 
 cried out in stifled, impotent helplessness. 
 
 "Villain! Thief!" and the next instant he had the slight 
 form cowering in his giant's grasp.
 
 8o With Fate against Him. 
 
 "So that is your translation of hospitality ! Go, child, go ;" 
 to the girl, who, sobbing and gesticulating, kissed his dis 
 engaged hand with frantic fervor, and vanished like a fawn. 
 
 " You deserve to be thrown into the river yonder, base 
 coward that you are ! A defenceless child, too ! I heard her 
 cry of affright." 
 
 "Sneak and spy that you are !" was the insolent rejoinder. 
 "As if the little fool's resistance meant anything !" and he 
 struggled in the grasp that was not relaxed a trifle. "Do you 
 kn<ow that I am Eustace Gilliat? Unhand me, you low vag 
 abond !" 
 
 It would be an easy thing to fling him over into the current 
 like so much carrion. A mean, arrogant, blustering coward, 
 rose-scented without, but vile within ! The son of a rich man, 
 heir to a fortune, revelling in luxury and perhaps grossness, a 
 pale, effeminate, beardless youth, with hardly a woman's 
 strength in his puny arms. He had seen Paris with its wonders ! 
 
 It all passed through Victor's brain like a flash. One of 
 those curious presentiments as well. He felt that he had made 
 an enemy, and that sometime the bitter blood between them 
 would have to be fought out to the last drop. 
 
 " Let me go, I say, or by heaven you shall rue it ! Is there 
 no help at hand that a man must be murdered in cold blood 
 by a ruffian for having kissed a pretty girl, who after all was 
 willing enough, as such creatures usually are ! It was Bur 
 gundy to her after her sour Rhine." 
 
 "I shall not murder you," with a scornful laugh, "though 
 I could do it easily. Neither do I spare you because you are 
 a rich man's son. You have outraged the commonest law of 
 hospitality, and lied, basely. This is some of your pure old 
 blood !" 
 
 The sneer stung Gilliat, and the mortification of still being 
 a prisoner made him tremble with rage. He gave a sudden 
 wrench and aimed a backward blow at his adversary, but it 
 went wide of its aim.
 
 With Fate against Him. 81 
 
 "Take that, in memory of your insult to a defenceless 
 girl, and go ;" loosening his hold of Gilliat with so sudden 
 a force that the youth stumbled. And there in his face was 
 the red flush left by the other's hand. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat arose livid with passion, and confronted the 
 supple giant standing unmoved before him. To venture a 
 blow would be the simplest folly. 
 
 " A Gilliat never forgives an insult, never ! You will hear 
 of this again ;" a look of baffled hatred gleaming from his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Very well. The girl possibly can tell her own story. It 
 will be two against one, but if your high-born Gilliat blood 
 thirsts for the notoriety " with another stinging laugh. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat walked away in ignominious, impotent 
 silence, the rage of a narrow, selfish nature that could brook 
 no control. If look could have murdered, his surely would 
 have done so. 
 
 Victor felt quite light of heart. He had struck the blow 
 against the class of aristocrats, as well as the particular in 
 dividual. The secret antagonism had raised its voice in pro 
 test, and now he meant to fight his way through. 
 
 Ah, Victor, youth has many battles on this rough ground, 
 where neither can see his adversary clearly, and there is a good 
 deal of useless fighting with shadows. 
 
 Long before midnight Bohmerwald had sunk into the silence 
 of peaceful slumber. Paul and Victor shared a great room 
 whose uncarpeted floor was silvery white, and whose single 
 pallets were fragrant with sweet herbs. 
 
 4*
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BY dawn the little village was again astir, but there was no 
 bright flutter of holiday caps and gowns. The clear, shrill ring of 
 the cocks from wayside eminences, the lowing of kine, and the 
 faint bleating of the distant sheep, mingled with the cheerful 
 but uncadenced voices of men and women, taking up their 
 homely life. 
 
 And they were content, Victor thought, gazing idly out over 
 the lovely landscape in its rosy, morning haze. No rank, nervous 
 vitality to be rubbed sharply against the plodding details, until 
 it was all one keen, aching sore. Was it because they knew no 
 better? Their simple-hearted Lutheran priest had religion 
 enough for them ; their ambition went no farther than their 
 farm fences. 
 
 Did God make them all of one clay, and breathe into every 
 soul the breath of life ? These in their cleanly quiet, and the 
 hosts of wretches out city-ward, who turned night into a vile 
 orgie, beat their wives and children, filled the festering prisons 
 and paupers' graves ? And the delicate souls pampered in 
 luxury until weakness became their only grace : the restless 
 souls like his, finding no place where they could work in their 
 full, exultant strength not of brawn, but brain. 
 
 Paul Latour startled him by a fling of laughter, though the 
 sun had flooded the room for nearly an hour. 
 
 " You take life too hard, comrade ! I said it yesterday." 
 
 . " Yes, " twisting his fingers nervously. ' ' But life t's a strange, 
 hard matter with me." 
 
 "And why should it be? Ask the birds for their secret. A 
 crumb, a nest, and a song. A twittering among the leaves in 
 the morning, a cheery whistle at night. Here to-day, to-
 
 With Fate against Him. 83 
 
 morrow in the grave, mayhap ! What does it matter ? Tra, 
 la, la, la." 
 
 Victor smiled oddly. Yesterday, the magnetic voice had 
 fascinated him. The luminous eyes, the olive skin, and 
 stragling gipsy beard, and the inconsequent trifles of talk 
 were so many charms. 
 
 To-day he wanted strength; the positive instead of the nega 
 tive. And work of the right kind, when it came to that. 
 
 "Come," Latour said gayly, "cast care to the winds. Let 
 us follow the breeze which warms and ripens all within its 
 reach. Our empire shall be the whole world, field, forest, sea, 
 or desert. We will sun ourselves amid Spanish vineyards, 
 where the grapes lie purpling into sweeter wine than we drank 
 last night, and eat our fruit where the laughing waves dash 
 music in our very faces. Or, if you like Italian skies better, 
 there are groves of olives and figs. We shall not starve. And 
 for amusement or greed, I will fiddle to villagers as I did last 
 night. For see, I like you !". 
 
 The odd, piquant, earnest manner moved Victor, and above 
 all, the naive confession. 
 
 "Thank you. But it would be quite impossible." 
 
 "Yet you sigh for freedom ?" 
 
 "And I should tire of idleness after awhile." 
 
 " Paf ! You might paint a picture !" 
 
 Victor flushed and thrilled with secret joy. Why not the 
 desultory Bohemian life of art and music ? He loved both. 
 And the vision tempted him. 
 
 He reached over for his knapsack with eager, trembling 
 hands. 
 
 "I don't know about painting. It is either a genius or a 
 life-long study. I could never translate the color of this 
 morning, or the softness of last night. But I have done 
 these. " 
 
 Some small pencil-studies, defined with marvellous accuracy, 
 and two or three half-finished.
 
 84 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " If they could be done in black and white ! But color " 
 
 "You can study over there;" nodding his head eastward. 
 "And there a bunch of grapes and a crust suffices. What do 
 we care for palaces while the stars shine and peasants keep the 
 ground warm with their dancing? Yes, come." 
 
 The voice fell into soft, pleading accords, and the quaint 
 face had the eagerness of a child's. 
 
 They were summoned to breakfast. Their hostess had 
 spread a small table with delicacies, and welcomed them with 
 the cordiality of a mother. 
 
 Brown and bent, the grizzled hair gathered under the high 
 starched cap, the skin dried and wrinkled ; but the smile frank 
 and joyous, the eyes keen, yet kind. 
 
 By the open window opposite, sat a young girl knotting some 
 coarse white fringe. She glanced up, blushed, and trembled ; 
 then with a sudden rush joined the group, clasping her 
 mother's horny hands, and talking rapidly. Paul and the 
 mother turned their eyes toward Victor, the latter breaking into 
 voluble exclamations. 
 
 "So, comrade !" and Paul's hand was laid upon his shoulder. 
 "You made true your claim to the guild. Marie says, that 
 last night you rescued her from the freedom of an insolent 
 scamp, and she is all gratitude. How modest you were !" 
 
 "It was nothing," and Victor flushed. He had not recog 
 nized the girl at first, but her voice and gestures were familiar 
 after a moment. 
 
 Paul interpreted. Marie, it seems, had danced once with 
 the young gallant, and then been drawn into walking with 
 him, when his friendliness had degenerated into coarse, 
 ungentlemanly license. Marie magnified her deliverer's office, 
 and was profuse in her gratitude. 
 
 " They are boors, these rich men's sons," exclaimed Paul, 
 angrily. "They have their balls, and dinners, and dissipations 
 why could they not stay away, or behave honorably ! Pah ! 
 I am only sorry that you did not throw him into the river !"
 
 With Fate against Him. 85 
 
 Victor laughed gayly. He was good-humored this morning, 
 and not morbid ; besides, Paul would hardly understand the 
 smouldering class-quarrel that he had with the Gilliat blood. 
 
 They ate their breakfast and rambled round the settlement, 
 where so many things were new to Victor's eyes. And the 
 friends, for such they were, fell into a half-confidence, and a 
 promise that when May came, the two would journey together 
 as free companions. 
 
 Victor threaded his way over the mountains that night alone. 
 Three days since Monday morning, and in them he seemed to 
 have lived half a lifetime. But he was coming back to civil 
 ization, where the air was full of strangling smoke and vile 
 odors, and then he balanced liberty in the one hand and honor 
 in the other, and thought he had lost. If he could have cried 
 through the trees for Paul ! 
 
 His mother sat by the window watching, and knew the step 
 long before it sounded on the old garden-path. She snuffed 
 her dim candle, wiped the tears from her eyes, and went out to 
 meet him. 
 
 "Victor !" with a great tremble in her voice, a great throb 
 of joy at her weary heart. 
 
 He knew what fear had been chilling along the pulses 
 like a keen, wintry blast, making the hands ice-cold even 
 now. 
 
 " I told you that I would come back," not unkindly. 
 
 "But it was so late." 
 
 "Am I a baby that I must be housed at dark ?" 
 
 "Victor!" with a fond lingering over the name, a cling 
 ing of hands and a tremulous flutter of the weary eyelids. 
 Ah, poor mother ! Sons who do not go up to Calvary, still 
 say "Woman, what have I to do with thee !" 
 
 He looked for his father to be in the arm-chair, stern, 
 questioning, ready to censure, but the corner was vacant, so 
 he softened a little. 
 
 " I have had a rare holiday indeed ! a journey to the Bo-
 
 86 With Fate against Him. 
 
 hemian settlement, miles down the river. They had a har 
 vest festival last night." 
 
 "I am glad you were happy." 
 
 With her there had been nothing but dead people and 
 funerals. The seven works of Mercy was her rosary, and she 
 toll the beads over often. 
 
 "Yes, I am glad that you have been happy ;" in a moth 
 erly, wandering way, the eyes still sad and wistful. 
 
 He looked so handsome, his face all aflush, and his tawny 
 hair thrown back, the lithe rounded limbs just defined under 
 the gray blouse, compact, nervous, strong. 
 
 If he had sat down and told her of the festival, the joys 
 and pleasures of the simple folk, and most of all, particu 
 larized his own, it would have rendered her so happy. The 
 warm, vital interest between her child and herself grew less 
 every day. She saw it with pain. 
 
 "Good-night. Is father home?" 
 
 "He went to bed an hour ago, very tired. I think he 
 grows feebler this warm weather ;" sighing wearily. 
 
 "Carrying the burden of all those miserable lives upon 
 his soul ! I don't believe God requires it." 
 
 " He is anxious for you, too ;" timidly. 
 
 "He may lay down that care! I shall never be saved in 
 his way, never. There ! I have hurt you ! But good 
 night, again. You were kind to sit up for me." 
 
 In his own room he pulled out the dry bread and 
 withered grapes, laughing a little. 
 
 "It's not so bad after all. And to see the world all those 
 rare old lands, the groves of orange and palm, the long 
 glistening vineyards, the palaces and galleries, to study a little 
 and to know life, life ! Next May. I wonder if the waiting 
 will seem long?" and he sighed softly, for 
 
 " A boy's will is the winds' will, 
 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 
 
 Through his dreamy brain floated Paul, Sylvia Redmond,
 
 With Fate against Him. 87 
 
 and Eustace Gilliat. The last he hated with a kind of bitter 
 contempt. Sylvia would marry him, of course, she was so 
 permeated with admiration of lofty descent. A foolish little 
 thing, and yet he half envied the wealth that would fall into 
 her hands, golden, ripe fruit. 
 
 John Hurst had been deeply shocked at his son's derelic 
 tion, and perhaps a little offended that his mother had silently 
 abetted it. To go off pleasuring when so good an old man 
 as Mr. Norcross lay dead, and all the shop-hands were ex 
 pected to show their sympathy and respect, seemed to him 
 absolutely heartless. For he believed devoutly in the lesser 
 command of ordering one's self lowly and reverently to one's 
 betters. The old-fashioned faith of his boyhood wouJd never 
 be eradicated. 
 
 "The lad strays farther and farther," he said sharply. " He 
 has no fear of present displeasure, nor the judgment to come. 
 We have failed in our duty, and God sends us this bitter, wild 
 fruit by way of punishment." 
 
 " I don't know," she made answer in her tender, motherly 
 way. " We were not all wise at twenty ;" and she sighed. 
 
 "But he has had good counsel and many prayers, much 
 patience. It will be the story of the child Absalom over 
 again !" 
 
 She shivered, crying out with sharp pain 
 
 ' ' You judge too soon ! Perhaps the mistake may have 
 been ours. He has a peculiar nature " 
 
 "The old excuse for sin and wilfulness. What will it 
 avail with God, think you ? There is but one law, one way." 
 
 A hard faith, truly. Was it her carnal heart that rose in 
 bitterness ? And somehow every pulse within her mutinied, 
 gave a quick throb of resistant anguish. Had she sinned so 
 sorely then, that she must be bitterly punished now? To whom 
 should she turn to God, or to her son ? 
 
 So she had gone patiently about her household cares and 
 her works of mercy. These poor women clung to her, perhaps
 
 88 With Fate against Him. 
 
 because she had so few texts and so many tears. She listened 
 to her husband's earnest warning over the grave of the poor 
 laborer, hurried out of the world, at his post of duty, by the 
 careless and narrow economy of his fellow-man, who builded 
 a frail scaffolding ; and then she turned to the Reverend 
 Underwood's glowing discourse of the dead saint lying below 
 the pulpit in all the delicate state of rosewood and satin. A 
 good man, a just man, a generous almoner, a bulwark of 
 the state, society, virtue, a man whose death would be felt 
 everywhere, over whom the grateful heathen would weep, and 
 Christians sorrow, but not without hope. 
 
 Ah, had he ever stamped in the snow to warm his chilled 
 and weary feet, and crawled under a stoop, or in some 
 empty ash-box to sleep ; had he felt the wind blow through 
 tattered garments, shaving the tender skin with an edge as 
 keen as a razor ; had he looked with hungry, longing eyes at 
 the bread in the shop-windows, and feasted on the smell 
 steaming out from some grand kitchen shadowy supper 
 indeed ! No ! his had been the purple and the fine linen 
 and yet men praised him for not having been a villain. 
 
 Anah Hurst's brain was confused with it all. Could God 
 see how easy it was to be good there, how hard here ; and 
 how much more faith it takes to starve by inches, being 
 honest, than to be cast to wild beasts at Ephesus ? 
 
 She crept softly up to her room, took off the plain gray 
 dress with its linen collar, and hung it carefully on the peg. 
 And the picture came oddly into her mind of having seen Mrs. 
 Underwood among the mourners, in her rich black-silk and 
 point-lace, and the clusters of purple heliotrope and pansy in 
 her elegant lace bonnet. Not that only. Sons and daughters 
 were around her bright, rosy children maybe this very 
 evening she went and kissed them as they lay in their beds. 
 It seemed as if all prosperous women were happy. So much 
 gold stood for so much comfort, and ease, and bliss. If she 
 had been rich she could have given her boy that which he
 
 With Fate against Him. 89 
 
 most wanted, all the appliances of knowledge. And if he 
 had not been fretted on every side, repressed, clipped to fit a 
 certain mould was it God's express wish ? Did he mean 
 that poor people only should save their souls through much 
 tribulation, much pain and self-sacrifice, and that the others 
 should go to heaven on "flowery beds of ease?" 
 
 She was so tired, now, that judgment and piety had gone 
 astray, and in the dark were taking each other for sharp foes. 
 And kneeling there by her bed she prayed in a sort of breath 
 less hush not for the poor women who dropped their babies 
 into the Ganges, but the one nearer home, whose son was 
 drifting out out somewhere beyond a mother's arms, and 
 thinking of the one who, in His great agony, prayed for 
 Himself. 
 
 On Thursday morning Victor Hurst went back to his dis 
 tasteful employment with a peculiar energy and content. Less 
 than a year of it, and he had so much to do besides. For he 
 was ignorant of even-thing. The rigid fears and scruples that 
 had shut out the world of literature, left his mind a kind of 
 blank, troubled sea. What did he know of the old heroes, and 
 warriors, and poets, whose names were common food to Paul 
 Latour's lips ? And if he went to the country of th,eir birth or 
 their wanderings, he must learn a little of their lives. 
 
 The household went on in its olden groove. John Hurst 
 laboring among the poor and miserable, trying to fit creeds 
 and beliefs into minds turned awry by many a cruel wrench ; 
 receiving a meagre pittance, and bestowing half of that in 
 alms, taking his share of meat out to some starving laborer, 
 his soft white bread to the sickly, famished baby. If he was 
 sometimes a little hungered, he said to himself that fasting was 
 good for the soul, made it more earnest and fervent in prayer. 
 
 But the fire always burned cheerfully on the hearth, with a 
 great, ruddy, rollicking blaze. Victor used to turn from his pile 
 of books, and study its emerald and violet heats, and the stur 
 dier scarlet flashes that writhed up the dusky background like
 
 90 With Fate against Him. 
 
 some tortured living thing. All sights and sounds came to 
 have a new meaning for him ; an under-current of subtle trans 
 lation from the material to the intellectual. What a dull clod 
 he had been last year : what a poor, weak fool farther back, 
 when he had a hankering for the rough merriment of tavern steps, 
 and low songs, with a coarse banjo accompaniment ! And yet 
 it was simply a boy's love for amusement, companionship. 
 
 Anah Hurst sat on the opposite side of the broad chimney, 
 and sewed. Garments for the poor, sometimes the cast-off 
 clothes of richer neighbors, but as often the product of her 
 own small economies. 
 
 The distance between Victor Hurst and his parents grew 
 more sharply defined. John Hurst had made one protest against 
 infidel books being brought into the house. 
 
 "Very well," was Victor's curt, incisive answer. "Where 
 my books go, I go. I dare say I can find friendly shelter in 
 town. And as for infidelity go look through the library 
 of your clerical brethren ; you will find them all there." 
 
 So Victor and his books remained. His mother used to 
 watch him out of her soft, sad eyes. She made no attempts to 
 draw him nearer to herself: let her get used to the separation 
 by degrees. And he never saw the lines settling in her face, the 
 slight depression about the mouth, the delicate skin coming 
 to have a gray, wan look. He had a right to make the best 
 he could out of his own life. 
 
 And so it came to April four weeks, only, to May a few 
 days between him and freedom. 
 
 "Norcross wants to see you in the office, to-night," Baxter 
 announced to him one afternoon. 
 
 He merely nodded. After six he washed his hands and 
 face, and combed his tumbled hair, the %vater drenching it with 
 bright amber tints. 
 
 There, in his arm-chair covered with Russia leather, sat the 
 great man. Ruddy, prosperous, satisfied. 
 
 "Ah, Hurst!" glancing up at the tall fellow. "I sent for
 
 With Fate against Him. 91 
 
 you, to say," tumbling over some papers to give the matter 
 a more important air, "that but I suppose you have counted 
 the days your time is up on next Wednesday." 
 
 "Yes." Very grave and quietly, as if he might be an 
 equal. 
 
 Norcross stared a little. 
 
 "What I have to say, young man," in a sort of pompous, 
 patronizing manner, "is, that I have heard a fair account of 
 you from Baxter; a good, skilful workman, steady and 
 sober ; for of late the vice of drinking has increased terribly 
 among your class. I am very glad for your father's sake. 
 Your father is an excellent man, Hurst. I hear noble stories 
 of him everywhere." 
 
 "My father does right according to his belief." 
 
 "And religion is a good thing. I wish we had more of it 
 in the world." 
 
 "You would not want his," with a bitter smile. "It is 
 comprised in two words labor and sacrifice." 
 
 The ruddy face was a trifle ruddier, as if some sarcasm 
 underlaid the words. * 
 
 "It is a bad sign when young men sneer at religion, the 
 great substratum of society and morality," in a rather sharp, 
 dogmatic tone. 
 
 Victor was silent. 
 
 "And I was about to say, that next Wednesday you may 
 consider yourself engaged at the highest journeyman's wages. 
 We are pretty full of orders, now, and I never let a good 
 workman go if I can help it. Baxter learned his trade here. 
 I always give my boys the first offer." 
 
 "I am obliged, Mr. Norcross, but I shall not stay." 
 
 "Not stay, eh! What's up? Why, Baxter said you had 
 been steady as an old clock the past ten months,, and that you 
 had never been given to beer or fooling. Where are you 
 going? If wages is the object " 
 
 " No," still calmly. " I do not mean to work at my trade."
 
 92 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Why?" in a tone of surprise. 
 
 "I do not like it," as if he was shaking off some repul 
 sive object "I never have. I came to it against my will." 
 
 " Doubtless your father knew what was best for you," with 
 an air of superiority. "A trade is a good thing for a man, 
 and .there's nothing like it to steady a boy through his most 
 dangerous years." 
 
 "I've passed the danger, then," with a rather ungracious 
 laugh. 
 
 "What do you expect to do turn doctor, or lawyer, or 
 travelling artist ?" 
 
 "That is my affair," with a touch of the old doggedness, 
 since the words cut rather close. 
 
 "Hurst, you are a fool!" with a slow shake of the head. 
 "There is too much of this romantic dissatisfaction in the 
 world. You have a good trade, a chance of steady employ 
 ment year in and year out, and the best thing for you to do is 
 to marry a healthy, happy girl in your own station, and lead a 
 useful, industrious life. If more men did this, it would be 
 better for the world in general. We have too much of this 
 maudlin, sickly philosophy already." 
 
 " A man has a right to do what he likes with himself, I 
 suppose ?" 
 
 "Well, no, I should say not. You men who claim a 
 right to starve are the last ones to do it, I observe. And 
 then you become chargeable to society in the shape of pau 
 pers and criminals." 
 
 ' ' I am not afraid of that. " 
 
 It entered oddly enough into the mind of Norcross that he 
 looked like a king standing there, in his tawny crown, his 
 resolute eyes, the indescribable air that in a rich man's son 
 would have been high breeding, and the symmetrical figure. 
 And then wandered in a stray sentence of Baxter's 
 
 " His father had some trouble with him at first, bur he is 
 a fine fellow now."
 
 With Fate against Him. 93 
 
 Why should he spoil a useful life for a vague idea ? 
 
 "I dare say you t have been writing for the magazines," 
 with a sneer. Geniuses seem to abound in the^commGit 
 walks of life, now-a-days." 
 
 "I have not. That is all, I believe, Mr. Norcross. Next 
 Wednesday I will take my freedom, and you will never heai'_ 
 of my becoming chargeable to Weareham." 
 
 With that he bowed loftily, though his heart swelled within 
 him, and went out into the balmy spring twilight. It was 
 so cool and fresh, with a fragrance of the south in it, that 
 seemed to overbear the smoke, and grease, and disagreeable 
 smells. 
 
 "They are all of her kind," he muttered. "A poor man 
 is nothing but a machine, and they are always in haste to 
 freight him with wife and babies to drag him down !" 
 
 For it seemed to him in young manhood that women were 
 but weights and clogs, and love a sham. That was a part of 
 Paul Latour's philosophy. 
 
 "Aha, Comrade !" 
 
 Victor started in surprise. Paul himself, looking slighter, 
 and smaller, and darker than ever, with his violin case in his 
 hand. 
 
 "It is May!" with the lightsome carol of a bird in his 
 voice. "And you are ready for freedom! Paf I How do 
 you live in this vile town ? Cologne is as nothing to it. My 
 nostrils are filled with varnish, and dyes, and smoke, and my 
 skin has a crocodile's scale of cinders !" 
 
 " It is unlike the woods. Then you have not forgotten 
 me ?" with a secret thrill of joy. 
 
 "Forgotten you? Did I not promise ?'' 
 
 Victor clasped the warm hand. Latterly Paul Latour and 
 the Bohmerwald festival had appeared exceedingly dream 
 like to him. 
 
 " My friend, are you free? Answer me that," in a tone of 
 childish eagerness.
 
 94 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "No, not until next week. And the winter has passed 
 rapidly. I have been learning to love your old poets ;" with 
 a kindling e ye and tender smile. 
 
 "Ah, I knew you would. When I want mirth, or sadness, 
 or tragedy, I bring them out. Rare old jester, sweet birds 
 of song !" 
 
 "And you came for me ?" 
 
 Paul shrugged his shoulders, and drew the pencilled brows 
 into an odd, petulant frown. 
 
 "I should have come for you to-morrow. To-night I play 
 in your villainous town. For a month I have been caged, 
 chained, taken around like the monkey in a show for the 
 sake of a little money, my friend ! Your trees are too leafless 
 for birds' nests in winter. But when I saw the sun-brown 
 hair I said halt, here is my friend of the summer 1" 
 
 Victor laughed cheerily. 
 
 "You will come home with me?" 
 
 "Not to-night, comrade. I must away to a rehearsal in 
 place and scene. I would ask you to come, but it is torture 
 to one's ears. Second-rate opera singers, and as for musicians 
 I am king among them think of that!" with a laugh of 
 gay contempt. "Ah, you will hear music over there !" 
 
 ' ' And then ?" 
 
 "If you are not ready I will look in upon my friends at 
 Bohmerwald. But to-morrow I will see you again. Addios." 
 
 They parted as their paths diverged. Victor felt that there 
 was no better time for the duty that lay before him than this 
 very evening.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT was a trifle cool this May evening, here in the outskirts 
 of the town, so Anah Hurst let the logs smoulder on the hearth, 
 instead of wetting them to blackened cinders, in her careful 
 fashion. Victor brought down his books and read tranquilly 
 for awhile, then began to chafe inwardly. He had gained a 
 better command over himself, but he could hardly have been 
 considered more patient. 
 
 He had promised himself a talk with his mother. This 
 night his father had no urgent calls, it seemed, for he sat and 
 dozed in his arm-chair. Victor wondered nervously why he 
 did not go to bed. 
 
 A chance glance fell upon him and startled the young man. 
 He was so accustomed to seeing his father night and morning, 
 that the years had come and gone without his remarking any 
 change until this moment, when the knowledge appeared to 
 strike sharp against something in his soul. 
 
 The head was bowed a little, the smoothly-shaven chin rest 
 ing on the breast. There were hollows in the temples, and 
 hollows under the high cheek-bones, and the thin gray hair 
 straggled about wearily, as if it had lost all healthy strength. 
 The sunken eyes had leaden shadows underneath, and the skin 
 was ashen gray. The under-jaw had fallen a trifle, and he 
 looked death-like in this stillness. 
 
 An old man. A soul that had worn out the body in vain 
 efforts to teach the pauper rabble yonder, to save them fit 
 them for heaven, and he smiled with a little scorn. And when 
 a day came in which he could labor no longer, what then? 
 
 If there was anything in the religion they taught, if it made
 
 g6 With Fate against Him. 
 
 people tender and considerate of others, generous, loving as 
 their great Leader loved, they would never let this man, who 
 had given up all for the cause, come to any want. They would 
 shelter and care for him in his old age, they would give him a 
 little foretaste of rest before he reached the other country. 
 There were societies who made no pretensions to anything but 
 morals, and yet did this. 
 
 The old mahogany clock in the corner struck nine. That 
 roused him. He stared wildly about for a moment, out of 
 pale eyes dazed by sudden contact with the light. The thin 
 hands trembled as he tried to grasp the chair-arms. 
 
 "I must have fallen into a doze ;" the voice quivering with' 
 a kind of piteous accent. "I think I'll go to bed. I wonder 
 why I should be so tired ! The flesh is weak weak." 
 
 He swayed forward as he rose, but after a moment 
 steadied himself. Anah lighted another candle. 
 
 " I will go up with you," she said, gravely. 
 
 Once, and not very long ago, John Hurst's step had been 
 vigorous and forcible. Not full of ring and elasticity, but the 
 solid, unswerving will of the man. To-night it seemed to 
 stumble over the steps, as if it could not be lifted high enough, 
 and in the room overhead it shuffled weakly. Yes, an old 
 man, worn out before his time! And the promise, "As thy 
 day so shall thy strength be," was a bitter mockery to Victor 
 Hurst. 
 
 He heard the voice falter slowly through a prayer. Yes, it 
 was greatly changed. Some uncomfortable touch of conscience 
 pricked him. After he was gone 
 
 "But he gave his life for them, not me," he muttered 
 fiercely. And if there is anything in it all why it should be a 
 stronger bond even than blood." 
 
 Was it his duty to stay here and give up his own prospects 
 when he had no hand in the sacrifice ? 
 
 He rose and paced the floor impatiently. Why should 
 these perplexing thoughts haunt him now, of all times !
 
 
 With Fate against Him. 97 
 
 He heard the soft step at last, and the door was pushed 
 aside, but in his walk to that end of the room he closed it 
 again. Mrs. Hurst began to fasten the shutters, gathered her 
 sewing in the wide basket, and smothered the fire. 
 
 "I want to talk to you " as she stood, undecided. 
 
 She caught the husky strand in his voice, and a great spasm 
 ran through her frame. 
 
 "Are you cold? Here is your shawl." 
 
 A little square of gray flannel bound with brown ribbon. 
 He folded it awkwardly over her shoulders. 
 
 "No, I am not cold," in a curiously calm voice. How 
 slow of brain and fine sense men were. 
 
 " I want to talk to you, next Wednesday I shall be twenty- 
 one ;" going at once to the point instead of any tender, fem 
 inine beating about. 
 
 "Yes," slowly, looking at the flickering blaze of the candle, 
 but seeing only darkness about her. 
 
 "Sit down;" for she appeared pale and tired, it seemed to 
 him. " It will be quite a long story." 
 
 She dropped into her low rocker, and he began to pace the 
 floor again. It took him so much farther away out of her 
 steady gaze, for the eyes were set and could not follow him up 
 and down. 
 
 " I am going away as I said before. I've stayed so that no 
 one's word might t>e broken, and next Wednesday I shall be 
 quite free." 
 
 Quite free owing no one any duty, any tenderness, any 
 thought for the old age closing round, the sickness or poverty 
 that might befall. Oh, yes, quite free ! 
 
 "And if you would like to know my plans" a trifle an 
 noyed at her silence. 
 
 "Yes, I should, Victor;" still calmly. If she had swerved 
 one hair's breadth, it would have been her confession to her 
 son, not his to her. 
 
 "I have told you about Paul Latour. We made a plan 
 5
 
 98 With Fate against Him. 
 
 last summer, only I did not know how well he was to be 
 depended upon then, to go away together. I saw him to 
 night. " 
 
 "The musician yes ;-" rocking herself to and fro. 
 "We are going to Europe. I have some kind of genius 
 in me I know," his voice dropping to a sturdy, persistent 
 key. "It will come out there. As for this old life, you 
 know I've always hated it ! It has been daily martyrdom to 
 rne down there in the shop. Father did it for the best," 
 rather more softly. 
 
 "Yes, he did. I want you always to think of it in that 
 light ;" an earnestness gleaming up her pale face. 
 
 " I wonder that he ever had such a child !" with an abrupt, 
 half-laugh that was used instead of an exclamation. "There 
 is not one likeness between us mental or physical. I can't 
 understand, somehow. And he has seemed to go against every 
 cherished hope of my life, but he meant it in kindness, no 
 doubt. He never sees anything as I see it, and after all, a man's 
 own feelings and wishes are best to himself. I wanted the 
 chance at engraving, you know ?" 
 
 "But that would have taken you entirely away from home, 
 thrown you among strangers. And Mr. Maverick's character 
 was notoriously bad. No, / couldn't have thrust you into 
 such temptation." 
 
 A scornful smile crossed his face and worked in his nostrils. 
 "Because the Norcross men were church members he 
 thought the shop was like a daily prayer-meeting. He stop 
 ped me in the first complaint that I ever made, and I thought 
 then that if I was led to perdition I never would utter another. 
 But I've heard oaths and stories there that would chill any 
 nice, clean blood. I've seen some of the men too drunk to 
 stand. Connor had the delirium tremens last winter, but he 
 is a splendid workman when sober. They can't answer for 
 every one, you know. However, I have kept myself free from 
 the curse !
 
 With Fate against Him. 99 
 
 "Thank God. I think there is still some " 
 
 "Grace left in me," with a short laugh. "Well, I have 
 had some finer impulses. I don't believe I should have been 
 as bad and restless in boyhood if I had had a good strong 
 interest, books of the right kind to read, and all that. But 
 learning Psalms was my abomination ! I don't believe that 
 I'm naturally religious." 
 
 "None of us are. We are saved by God's grace only. Our 
 righteousness would be filthy rags in His sight." 
 
 "Mother, I've come to believe differently, if I have any 
 belief at all. Every good act must be better in His sight than 
 a vile one. And it seems to me a religion that will not keep 
 men truthful or honest, is not worth much. Yet how many 
 men overreach in a bargain, or grind the faces of the poor 
 cheat the widow and the orphan !" 
 
 "Oh, Victor, don't rail ! It cuts me to the quick.'' 
 
 " I never knew you or my father to tell a lie, and you give 
 on every hand, instead of taking. But we'll let religion alone. 
 I cannot see through his eyes, or think with his brain. He 
 never understood my commonest want, from the day he refused 
 me sugar in my tea until now. And very likely I fret him, 
 jar upon his most tender nerves. So you see we shall be bet 
 ter friends apart." 
 
 Not a word of her. Had she come to be nothing in her 
 son's life ? 
 
 "But what will you do ?" in a vague, distressed tone, wring 
 ing the thin fingers. 
 
 " Work my way. I am young and strong. I'll try all 
 things until I come to the one I like, and I fancy that it 
 will be something fit for a gentleman. Did you ever imag 
 ine that I could be satisfied over yonder in the machine- 
 shop ?" 
 
 "Oh, my child, it is so hard to know what is right;" with a 
 sob just under her breath. 
 
 " But you understand that it is best for me to go away. I
 
 TOO With Fate against Him. 
 
 want to travel to see men and life. I have a great, hungry 
 soul, that utterly refuses the milk-and-water diet on which 
 some fatten. I should be restless and miserable here." 
 
 She felt every word. More than all, she knew how he came 
 by these fine instincts this ambition. He should have been 
 born among eagles. And yet her heart cried out for the one 
 comfort of her life. 
 
 ' ' How long should you stay ?" 
 
 Her voice was husky, and she held her hand over her eyes, 
 as if to shade them from the light. But she need not have been 
 so scrupulous, he was not on the watch for tears. 
 
 "I don't know ;" slowly. "Until I had done something 
 that would give me a place at home, in my own country I 
 mean, for I should never come back here, the very sight of it 
 is hateful in my eyes." 
 
 "And I should be dead," in a low tone. 
 
 "Dead in a few years !" but the expression of unbelief died 
 away on his lips. Then he came nearer. "Mother," he said, 
 in a voice of strong emotion, "do you want me to stay, and 
 live a poor, miserable, dissatisfied life never be anything ? I 
 think it is in me to rise. I want freedom and a broad space. 
 I could make no one believe in me here ; for they would 
 always believe in the smoke and grime of the shop instead. 
 Why, a few hours ago even, Norcross advised me to stick to 
 work, to marry in my own station which is so much lower 
 than his, of course." 
 
 "Oh !" she murmured, with a strangely soft intonation ; for 
 somehow, the picture of wife and little children seemed sweet 
 to her lonely, aching heart. 
 
 "And when I looked at his coarse skin, and his stubby, 
 squat features for they all appear to be crowded together 
 and the overlaying of gross flesh with which ease has covered 
 his square frame, I couldn't help thinking, that so far as mere 
 physique went, I stood on a plane above him. And as for soul 
 how much is there in his small, faded, blue eyes? Yet,
 
 With Fate against Him. 101 
 
 people looking at his gold, call him handsome and a gentle 
 man ! Faugh !" 
 
 " He is a good man, and so was his father." 
 
 "Good ! It is easy to fling away a little gold when a man's 
 pockets are gorged with it, and his stomach full and comforta 
 ble of the very fat of the land ! Why, a thousand to him is no 
 more than a penny to you. But if there's anything in blood, 
 as some people believe," remembering Sylvia's complacent 
 verdict, "I fancy he has a small share of the old blue current. 
 And I wanted to ask you who the Hursts were ?" 
 
 "I don't know. Your father came from Albany, and had 
 few if any relatives." 
 
 "You, then? For I have a current in my veins, I fancy, 
 that is purer and clearer than that of most people, with a 
 strength and daring in it which means something. But maybe 
 it is brain." 
 
 ' ' Our family was good, with a Scotch descent, the Mc- 
 Raes ;" a little pride lowering her voice to fineness, ^f 
 
 "Maybe I have some of the Scotch persistence ; but what I 
 feel strongest is a kind of odd, glowing, fiery life, not unlike 
 that of a handsome thorough-bred, rarely driven. It is the 
 being put to carting and rough work that makes me cry out. 
 I like those old Greeks and Romans, of whom I have been 
 reading this winter. I suppose you cannot understand me, 
 and think it foolish ;" pausing abruptly, and with a little tes- 
 tiness in his voice. 
 
 "Yes, I understand." Hers was full of curious flickering 
 hollows, as if she were out of doors, and it came to him over 
 hill and dale. "I understand. I have known it always." 
 
 "Then you must know what martyrdom my life would 
 be " He meant to say, "is," but he had hardly the graceless 
 courage. 
 
 "Yes. It will be best for you to go. When doves hatch 
 eagles they must look to see them fly skyward ;" in a resolute 
 voice, as if she were passing sentence on herself.
 
 IO2 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "I am glad to have you look at it in this light." 
 
 "I expected you to go." Now that she had resolved, she 
 threw the old life behind her, and was brave. When the heart 
 has been crushed, what matters the body ? 
 
 "Only I should like to know your plans, if you will 
 tell me." 
 
 "I have been doing over-work, and saved a little money 
 a hundred dollars. Everything is so much cheaper abroad, 
 and you can travel the continent over with a knapsack and 
 staff. Paul has been everywhere. And if I am to be an artist, " 
 recalling the sneer Mr. Norcross had given, "I shall find my 
 inspiration under those balmy, golden skies." 
 
 "Oh!" with the first touch of pride that she experienced. 
 " When will you go ?" 
 
 "As soon as I can after Wednesday. I see no use of waiting." 
 
 " No !" with a little gasp that was fain to shape itself into a 
 sob, and curbed only by her strong power of repression. 
 
 For she deemed it unwise, as well as useless to persuade him 
 against his will. There really was nothing for him here. He 
 was fitted for something higher and finer than shop-labor, and 
 in spite of John Hurst's rigid training, it had managed to thrive 
 apace. And she had a fancy that they two, husband and wife, 
 would be happier when he was gone. His presence disturbed 
 her tranquil faith, filled her with doubt and perplexity, and 
 took her mind from her duties to those around her. If she 
 could only be clear as to her duty concerning him ; but will 
 and duty lay far apart here. And if she made this last sacri 
 fice of human affection, laid him upon the altar like another 
 Isaac, would not her duty be done? 
 
 ' ' I should like to ask Paul here. He is very different from 
 most of the people with whom you and my father associate. 
 But he suits me ;" with a touch of defiance in his tone. 
 
 "I know that we cannot choose friends for you ;" sighing 
 a little. 
 
 "And when I am gone, don't worry about me. I shall
 
 With Fate against Him. 103 
 
 do well enough ; a great fellow like me, with youth and health, 
 ought, I'm sure. I shall write often to you, and at, the last, 
 whatever I win you shall share with me. I think you'll not 
 miss me long, and you will be rid of a deal of care !" 
 
 Ah, how little he understood a mother's love. Glad to be 
 rid of the trouble of her child and no other growing up to 
 take his place ? Ah, blind, pitiless youth ! 
 
 "Would my father object, I wonder? Other young men 
 are free to invite friends." 
 
 "He will not object." 
 
 She meant to take care of that. During this last week of 
 his life with them, he should not be fretted, nor have any hard 
 remembrances to take with him. If she sat in sackcloth and 
 ashes afterward, if she fasted and prayed that the devil of pas 
 sionate and unsanctified love should be cast out of her, that 
 would be a matter between her and God. Victor need never 
 know. 
 
 For she had a vague presentiment that she should never see 
 him again. If he should raise himself to the height of his 
 aspiration, she would not be a fit companion for him in that finer 
 and more cultured world in which he meant to play his part. An 
 old woman in plain caps and a stuff gown when those whom 
 he would learn to admire went clad in rich silks and soft laces ! 
 
 " I have not said a word to him yet ;" studying the snowy 
 boards of the floor. " I wanted to tell you first." 
 
 " I think I had better explain it to him " 
 
 "I'm not a coward, mother, to shift this load to your 
 shoulders. He may feel tempted to lay the blame of my 
 defection on your over-indulgence," with a short laugh. 
 
 " I can make him understand it more easily, I think. My 
 blood is cooler than yours, and I shall be more patient." 
 
 He was very glad to be relieved of it, and yet it seemed 
 a shabby thing to him. He dreaded to discuss the matter 
 with his father, for he knew well that he would meet with 
 opposition and intolerance.
 
 IO4 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "If you wish to," he rejoined, slowly. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 Then she rose, for it seemed as if her burden was as great 
 as she could bear. One straw more might force the waiting 
 cry through her bloodless lips. 
 
 There was nothing more to be said on his side. He had 
 stated his case very clearly and forcibly, he thought; convinced 
 her, and won her assent. Ah, he could not see the underly 
 ing current. Well perhaps that it was so. 
 
 Anah Hurst went about the house the next day like one in 
 a deep shadow. It seemed to look out of the lengthened 
 twilight of her eyes, to hover about her pale compressed lips. 
 More than once she essayed to open the subject with her hus 
 band, for it seemed a rather quiet time with him. He sat in 
 his arm-chair and read a good deal, meditations of holy 
 Christian men who had given their lives and all they pos 
 sessed to the cause, who had dedicated their children to 
 God's service, and trained them up to bear fruit for the Mas 
 ter. Once or twice she came and glanced over his shoulder, 
 then shrank away, stricken to the heart's core. 
 
 The afternoon drew to a close. She stirred her fire and put 
 on the kettle. The sewing in her basket had been finished, 
 and the knitting was in no haste now. So by and by she said 
 softly, "Johnl" 
 
 He started, and his book fell to the floor. 
 
 " I believe I was dozing ;" with a feeble smile. "Did you 
 speak ?" 
 
 "Yes;" glancing fearfully at the clock. Just half an 
 hour's grace before Victor would come to supper, bringing 
 his friend, perhaps. " I had something to tell you, to discuss 
 with you, though it is all settled, for the best, let us trust. 
 I think it is God's will." 
 
 He looked into her grave, troubled face. She remembered 
 afterward what a curiously vague expression there was in his
 
 With Fate against Him. io5 
 
 eye, and how the muscles of his thin face seemed to twitch 
 beyond his control. 
 
 She said her say with a wife's tender grace and a mother's 
 devotion to her son's cause. No one knew better than she 
 how to explain Victor's waywardness. 
 
 Victor Hurst crossed the lots fifteen minutes later and came 
 up on the left side of the porch. The vines had not grown 
 into their summer profusion of leaf and bloom. He halted 
 a moment, attracted by the low-lying level bars of light in the 
 western sky. A peculiar gray-looking sunset, with a storm 
 brooding a little farther back, to come with the dawn, perhaps. 
 
 And these words floated out to him, in a trembling, hollow 
 tone, 
 
 " I've tried to do my duty I think God will bear me wit 
 ness. But sometimes I've fancied that if I'd had a child of my 
 own flesh and blood, I might have learned something by the 
 very tie which God gives to open our eyes, to teach us wisdom 
 and strength. I've tried to love him, but he always kept away 
 as if he knew. I never meant to make any difference, but 
 perhaps I've been ignorant. How could I tell ?" 
 
 A swarthy flush crossed the young face, in which there was 
 the purple agony of black, bitter pain. He moved noiselessly 
 away, dragging his limbs as if they had been palsied. Not 
 John Hurst's son ! When he had said, with boyish heat, that 
 not a drop of the man's blood ran in his veins, he had 
 never dreamed of a shameful, hidden truth ! 
 
 He crawled down to the old apple-tree, whose clustering 
 buds were faintly scenting the air, and threw himself at the 
 moss-grown base, sick with passionate anguish. Not John 
 Hurst's son 1 
 
 5*
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JOHN HURST and his wife sat a long while over their simple 
 tea-table, though neither of them ate anything. She had per 
 suaded him into taking some tea, and he sipped it idly in an 
 absent, wandering fashion ; a strange grayness settling about 
 his temples and the tremulous mouth, which could not steady 
 itself for the aguish nervousness. 
 
 Her tears dropped silently. They had been going over the 
 old life ; and though in his great love for her he had never 
 questioned the wisdom of their marriage before, he felt weak 
 and uncertain now. He had wished then to save her from 
 pain and shame, for how much of the world would have 
 believed her story as he did. He understood so well the 
 sweetness and purity of her nature, and the strand of womanly 
 tenderness underlying it all, the fine sensitive nerves th'at 
 could be wrung and tortured by the merest word or look. In 
 his keeping she would be so secure ! The child would be to' 
 him like a son. 
 
 It had not come to pass. And now he saw her heart torn 
 by a divided duty. What if he should relinquish his claim ? 
 Would she go with her son ? 
 
 They waited unconsciously for Victor. Then his mother set 
 the tea down by the coals, and washed the dishes they had 
 used. Always after supper came the time for family prayers. 
 John Hurst waited until the candle was lighted, and then drew 
 forth the old Bible to read the chapter. His voice faltered as 
 if some vital chord had met with a sudden rough jar, and 
 could not readily swing back into the old groove. 
 
 The faded leathern cover was closed, and the glasses care-
 
 IVitJi Fate against Him. 107 
 
 fully wiped and laid atop. They then knelt for their evening 
 prayer. 
 
 John Hurst led a blameless, self-sacrificing life ; his pur 
 poses were honorable and right in the sight of all men, and 
 if he exacted ought from others, he gave twice that himself. 
 But he always looked at the duty first : the terror of the law 
 before the benignity of love. If he had little indulgence for 
 the follies of others, he had less yet for his own; but any great 
 sin found in him a tender comforter when the first stern judg 
 ment had passed. 
 
 To-night he prayed fervently for the boy. All the old love 
 with which he had watched his baby steps seemed to come out. 
 Anah listened in dim amaze. A strange, soft tremor in his 
 voice: little pauses as if now and then he could hardly remem 
 ber what he most wished to say. And he supplicated for grace 
 and patience to help them bear whatever burdens might be 
 sent upon them, to enable them to make any sacrifice de 
 manded by God, that their eyes might be slow to perceive. 
 
 He came and kissed her afterward. It was so long since 
 he had done this. In his eagerness to crucify self, he had 
 well-nigh relinquished human affection and desires. 
 
 "Anah," he said, picking at his thin fingers, "I have 
 been studying over a subject near and vital to us both. I think 
 the Lord has granted me strength to see aright. It. may "be 
 your duty lies with him, the boy," nodding his head feebly to 
 the shadowy window distance. "And if you like to go " 
 
 "Oh, no, no, John! My vow is to you. Did you think 
 that meanly of me ? And if I cared to go, he does not want 
 me!" with passionate sadness in her voice. "He can carve 
 out his own fortune, and has outgrown baby-love and fondness. 
 No, I belong to you. All my duty now lies to you and to 
 God " 
 
 There was something in the puzzled, abstracted face quite 
 new to her, and an air of groping, as if he had lost his way 
 in some mysterious fashion. A week ago he was strong and
 
 io8 With Fate against Him. 
 
 resolute, to-night he seemed to wish to cling to her, although 
 he would not so much as stretch out his wasted fingers. 
 
 She drew one arm around her neck. 
 
 "I can never forget, John, how many years you have given 
 shelter to the boy and me, a name when we might have been 
 nameless. I said then 'Till death do us part,' and I mean 
 it to-night. If I have sometimes failed in duty or love," and 
 she tried hard to keep back the emotion that choked her and 
 stifled all the air about, "forgive. There will be only us 
 two to love to the end." 
 
 With that her days of wearisome doubt were ended. Her 
 duty was here. Let youth follow its wayward will as she had 
 once; but experience told her not to long for golden apples on 
 that far shore where the lifeless, sluggish sea washed out their 
 flavor. And yet how she had wavered betwixt the two! How she 
 had doubted and questioned God ! 
 
 John Hurst took her to his heart. She thought, with a 
 curious thrill, how much stronger she seemed of the two. 
 Besides the wife's love, cajjed into action again, there was a 
 sense of protection, as if she would be needed ere long to 
 shield him from some unseen blow. 
 
 "I am tired," he said, presently. "I think I will not wait 
 for Victor. Something has detained him. Will you light my 
 candle?" 
 
 She carried it up for him. His breath came hard and short, 
 and his feet dragged slowly. Her step was like a girl's, and she 
 seemed strong enough to-night for anything, quite like the 
 old time youth. Then she sat by the open window and sang 
 for him until he fell asleep. 
 
 Before she went down she passed her hand softly over the 
 thin hair, murmuring, " Poor John ! dear, brave soul ! I never 
 knew until to-night how deep the pain had gone ! A son|fL 
 his own, who, perhaps, would not desert him in his old age. 
 God forgive us for our blindness and cruelty." 
 
 Victor had not come yet. The lonesome kitchen struck a^
 
 With Fate against Him. 109 
 
 chill to her very soul, and throwing a shawl over her head, she 
 walked down the path to the silent, deserted street. It was 
 quite cloudy now, with drifts scudding about the sky, blown 
 by the fresh spring wind. After she had been out awhile she 
 could distinguish the shapes of the trees as the coming storm 
 writhed about in their branches. Where was Victor ? Were 
 he and his friend Paul making arrangements laying in a little 
 store of the articles they would need ? 
 
 Ah, well ! she had given him all that was necessary out of 
 her life. Days and nights of watchful care, love, devotion ; 
 denying herself little gratifications that he might have the 
 more. 
 
 And yet how strange ! The old morbid feeling about it was 
 all gone. She would be content to stathere, a poor, childless, 
 forgotten woman, for it would copeJp that in time. 
 
 When she was tired of her fruitless waiting at the gate, she 
 bethought herself that there was -no fresh water for night, and 
 taking the pail, went down to the well. Something stirred 
 under the old apple-tree, and caused her to give a little cry of 
 affright. 
 
 "It is I, mother ; do not be alarmed." 
 
 If it had not been, for the "mother" in the sentence, she 
 would not have known the voice so hoarse, and strained, and 
 changed. 
 
 "Victor!" with wild apprehension, her usually soft tones 
 rendered shrill by terror. 
 
 "Yes, mother!" with the impatience of some mortal pain 
 or wound. 
 
 "Where have you been? The supper has waited for 
 hours !" 
 
 "Supper ! I could never eat another mouthful in that house 
 if I were starving ! Oh, mother, mother !" 
 
 "What is it, Victor?" stretching out her arms through the 
 dark and finding her child's face, which burned against her 
 soft, cool hand.
 
 no With Fate against Him. 
 
 i 
 
 "What is it?" he asked hoarsely, putting her away with 
 
 rough movement. "It is the blight and stain on my own life, 
 that I never knew until now !" 
 
 "The blight!" and a sudden shiver seized her in a giant's 
 grasp. " The shame " 
 
 "Yes!" She felt that he was rising from the ground. " I 
 am not John Hurst's child, but I think I have a right to know 
 my father's name !" 
 
 "Oh, my God!" 
 
 She was silent so long, that he feared she had fainted, and 
 reached out his hand to find her kneeling within an arm's 
 length of him. 
 
 " Mother !" in a gentler tone. 
 
 "Who told you that?" But her voice was like a reed in a 
 storm. 
 
 "I heard him say so. I came home earlier than usual 
 across the lot ; and just as I struck the porch, he said his wish 
 had been for a child of his own flesh and blood. But he shall 
 never again look upon a sight so hateful in his eyes. I don't 
 know why I have stayed here, like a blind, helpless fool 
 
 "Hush !" she said, peremptorily. "You and I owe him a 
 great deal. God knows how grand and generous his heart has 
 been. " 
 
 "A home and a name !" angrily. "I wish he had let me 
 die an outcast instead !" 
 
 ' ' People do not always die ;" steadying her voice. 
 
 "So you see, if I had never gone before, I must go now ;" 
 with a bitter, scornful laugh. "I have been crazy to loiter 
 here. I should have stolen away, like the thing I am, under 
 shelter of night." 
 
 Every word stabbed her. For a moment the agony appeared 
 greater than she could bear. 
 
 "I think I have a right to some justification in my son's 
 eyes. No living soul besides my husband and I is aware of 
 the secret. It is not quite what you imagine."
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 1 1 
 
 Something in her voice, strong with anguish, yet strangely 
 clear and proud, moved him. 
 
 " You were married, then !" gasping painfully. 
 
 Where could the story be told better than under the cover of 
 night and darkness ? For now he must know and judge. 
 Since he had heard that much, a mystery of the rest would be 
 of no avail. 
 
 "I considered myself married. I went through an honorable 
 ceremony by a person I then supposed to be a clergyman. I 
 was inexperienced, and had led a most secluded life ; besides, 
 then I had no reason to doubt my my lover," with a strong 
 effort. "For three months I was a happy wife oh, God !" 
 
 Victor caught the pain in her voice, something that strained 
 it to its utmost tension. 
 
 "And when you blame any one let it be me, wild with grief 
 as I was then ; but not the man who, in spite of it all, offered 
 me his love and his name ; who was tender, patient, and in all 
 these years has uttered no word of regret ; who to-night breathed 
 the first wish that I ever heard him utter. You might have 
 been a son to him," 
 
 " But fate was against me !" in a shrill tone, which had in it 
 the sense of bitter, acrid pain. 
 
 " Was it ? Or some far curse of blood that kept you always 
 fretting and angered ? He gave me my free choice to-night, 
 to go with you, or stay ; and 1 chose the love that had been 
 tried to the utmost and was still true. You wrong him in your 
 hot, unreasoning verdict. He is a good man." 
 
 "And my father was forgotten!" in his sharp, boyish 
 way. 
 
 " Forgotten ! My God, when I had so much to remember ! 
 You are too young to understand women's hearts. But if you 
 mean that I ought to have loved him and clung to him, when 
 he barred the way first by marrying for the sake of a fortune, 
 you mistake the pride and purity of my soul. For I am better 
 to-day than he. I have deceived no one, wronged no one,
 
 H2 With Fate against Him. 
 
 though society visits such faults or misfortunes on the woman's 
 head rather than the man's." 
 
 He rose and shuddered with such force that the vibrations of 
 air swept to her like a gust. 
 
 "So, that was my father I And what has happened to him 
 since ?" 
 
 "Nothing but good fortune on every side. He came of a 
 proud, old family, and married back into it, that none of 
 the broad lands might be alienated. He has prospered, held 
 positions of trust and honor, and has a son to carry down his 
 name. I suppose he is happy." 
 
 "And you believe in a God who rewards the good and pun 
 ishes the evil after all that !" 
 
 "I believe in a God who said, 'Vengeance is mine, I will 
 repay. ' " 
 
 He smote the rough trunk of the tree with his fist, and never 
 felt the scratched and bruised knuckles. 
 
 "I think if I knew who the man was I should murder 
 him." His mother shivered at the passion in his voice. 
 
 "You will never know ;" with a breathless flutter, as if he 
 might turn and wrest the secret from her. 
 
 "Pernaps it is as well," laughing bitterly. "For I feel like 
 Ishmael : that my hand is against every man. I am an 
 outlaw." 
 
 "No, you are not an outlaw. A man makes himself what 
 he will ! You have the same youth, the same strength and 
 courage, and the same aims you had this morning. To the 
 end John Hurst will be your father. Will you throw up every 
 thing and whine weakly when you have only to do as you 
 planned before ?" 
 
 "But it seems as if some strength had gone out of me;" 
 roused a little by her words that appeared to sting him dully. 
 
 "Yes, it always does in a great blow. But it will come 
 back. In the life you mean to lead the next few years, they 
 question no one about birth. And when you have won fame
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 1 3 
 
 and position, your face will be sufficient passport anywhere. 
 If a man makes his mark, society will open her golden door 
 unhesitatingly. It is women who suffer, not men." 
 
 There was a strange bitterness in her voice. Instead of this 
 sharp philosophy, she would rather have held his throbbing 
 temples to her bosom, and kissed the wavering, burning lips. 
 She guessed from the father what the dangers to the son 
 might be. 
 
 " I thought you did not want me to go!" with an almost 
 querulous unreasonableness. 
 
 "If you could have been content; but /know you never 
 will be, here. Do you think it cost me so little to give up my 
 child? Why, Victor, it has been a going up to the wilder 
 ness to be tempted. This bare, coarse, common life looked 
 horrible without you, and all the kingdoms of the world 
 shining afar off. I was ready to fall down and worship Satan, 
 so that I might but have you. But I knew in my soul that the 
 day I sheltered myself in John Hurst's great love against the 
 world's contumely, I gave up the right of choice. So I 
 have had my fight and conquered ; and you must do the 
 same." 
 
 He reached out his arms and took her to his heart. She 
 felt the great bounds of passion and pain, and trembled there 
 in his strong clasp. 
 
 "Mother, your voice is like the ring of martial music. I 
 never knew that you were so brave !" 
 
 The pangs had ennobled her lifted her out of herself, and 
 the narrow round that had trammelled her. She had a large, 
 clear brain, when you came to that, and a sturdy self-reliance. 
 
 "Go with me," he cried. "Be my inspiration. I cannot 
 fail then." 
 
 Her heart gave a great leap. And yet, was it not rather as 
 a comrade than as a mother he needed her. The temptation 
 in any light was one of exquisite pain, and she felt the fire of 
 ambition running through her veins like a subtle, forceful
 
 1 14 With Fate against Him. 
 
 flame. In the old days she had dreamed of rousing another 
 soul into purer and higher life ; of guiding the aims, the 
 intellect, and the heart into harmonious channels. Instead, 
 she had brought ruin upon herself. 
 
 "No," in her voice of pure, clear courage, "my duty is 
 with him, I think he is hardly as strong this spring as 
 heretofore. So I must stay. But change is better for 
 you. " 
 
 "Yes," absently. 
 
 "You will think kindly of him when you are away. Re 
 member that he did what he thought for the best. He had 
 seen another, brilliant, fascinating, dangerous a mind not 
 able to concentrate itself strongly upon one purpose or belief, 
 scatter anguish broadcast; and he wanted, most of all, to have 
 you steadfast, sincere, true. If he mistook the way, as I think 
 we both did, his motives were pure. He never grudged you 
 anything ; and it has been his ceaseless regret that he knew 
 not how to win your love." 
 
 "I forgive him all. God alone knows how hard it must 
 have been to see me in the place his children might have filled. 
 Yes, I understand his fear." 
 
 "You will come in, it is growing late." 
 
 " I was a boor and a brute to you awhile ago, and unjust to 
 him ; but I suffered fearfully. To think the very blood of 
 which I had been so proud in its unlikeness to his, should 
 have that stain upon it 1" 
 
 He felt the tremor running along her pulses, and his heart 
 smote him. 
 
 " Not through any sin of yours," he cried vehemently, clasp 
 ing the cold hand in his. " How could you tell ?" 
 
 "No, I could not tell. It was my misfortune to love him, 
 to trust him. I had no mother to help me with clear eyes 
 and wise counsel. My father was old and in delicate health, 
 and he had never been keen or distrustful. A visionary in 
 many things, ready to believe the best of any one ; courteous,
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 1 5 
 
 gentlemanly, honorable to the farthest verge. And he liked 
 our guest," with a little faltering over the term, "so well, 
 He and John Hurst were our only visitors." 
 "You knew him, then ?" and Victor started. 
 " He was our neighbor ; a grave, quiet man, verging on to 
 forty. I liked him as one might an elder brother, and never 
 imagined the truth. The other was young, with all the graces 
 and sweetness of those golden days, a man to win a girl's fancy. 
 But when he first spoke I was incredulous, and made him 
 wait to be certain of his own regard. During those six months 
 of probation, I learned to love him better ; and I think he 
 loved me. We planned our life together ; its ambitions and 
 possibilities, its high, pure aims that were to unfold like some 
 clear spring morning, behind whose skies of perfect blue lay 
 prophesy of blossom and ripening fruit, and cool, green foli 
 age. I knew that he would have some property. His grand 
 father, it seems, wished him to marry his cousin, and thus 
 unite the two fortunes ; but the poor old man was hovering 
 on the brink of the grave. He was going home one time, and 
 persuaded me into this marriage, that he might have the more 
 courage to confess it to his grandfather. But he came back 
 with the secret still untold. For three months we kept it, then 
 he was again recalled. I never saw him afterward." 
 
 "But he did not dare disavow the whole transaction ?" And 
 Victor's voice was terrible in the strength of his passion. 
 
 " He did. Not that he could have looked into my face and 
 said it. I begged, and prayed, and plead for an interview. If 
 I had known where to find him, I must have gone and en 
 forced my claim, right in the sight of God at all events. But I 
 did not. I was utterly helpless. He had taken our certificate 
 in the beginning. Then I strove to discover the minister who 
 married us ; but there had never been such a clergyman settled 
 in the small town. I knew, then, that fate was too strong, 
 and that the whole world would be against'me." 
 
 ' ' My poor, poor mother 1"
 
 1 16 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Victor Hurst kissed the soft cheek, throbbing with the heat 
 and soreness of the old wound. 
 
 ' ' I tell you this because I do not want you to misjudge 
 me in the years to come. This man crowned us with thorns 
 and led us through a Via Doloroso, while he took the bright 
 ness, the ease, and the gold. And the other " 
 
 "John Hurst. Go on. It is right that I should know;" 
 the words almost strangling under his breath. 
 
 " He offered his great love that had kept silent until then. 
 He urged for my father's sake, for my own. He knew how 
 cruel the world could be to a woman. For the sake of my 
 father and my child, I consented. Which of the two would 
 have been the better birthright, dear?" turning her face to his 
 through all the darkness. 
 
 "I understand you. Yes, I suppose it was best. I know, 
 now, why I can see the fears he had for me. It was very 
 noble and heroic in him, and when I am away I shall forget 
 the petty jarring, and remember him as rarely generous, thus 
 to put another man's child in the place of his own." 
 
 They turned and walked together toward the house. 
 
 "Let it all go on as before," she said, pleadingly. "It 
 would break his heart to know he had betrayed the secret kept 
 sacredly so many years. And it is only for a few days. I 
 have a presentiment that you will never see him again." 
 
 Victor stooped and kissed his mother in the doorway. The 
 flame of the candle, burned down to its socket, flared across 
 the hall with a dull reddish tinge. He saw a strange new 
 light in her face, as if it had suddenly burst its olden tram 
 mels of conventionalism. There was a nervous strength in the 
 broad white forehead, in the heats coming and going, as if 
 they travelled with her thoughts ; the dusky eyes burning with 
 steady, luminous lights, and the lips set firmly, brilliant as if 
 the rose and scarlet of her youth had come back again. The 
 slow restraint that had grown year by year into a mould of 
 impassiveness had been shattered by some far inward force,
 
 With Fate against Him. 117 
 
 and she seemed to stand there enfranchised from the life with 
 which he had always connected her, strong and beautiful in 
 his sight. 
 
 "Mother! Mother!" and the tone was like a sad wail, 
 piercing her very soul, "how can I give you up? For you 
 seem to belong to me with a finer bond than there is between' 
 most mothers and sons." 
 
 For to-night all the strength and sweetness and power rose 
 and asserted itself, and surprised her as well. She had broken 
 through the smooth platitudes of every-day life and raised the 
 old spirit of herself out of that haunting, buried past. And 
 still her soul was torn asunder, though God only saw the 
 strife. 
 
 " Yes, I belong to you," proud that he at last had under 
 stood and acknowledged her claim. "But when I took this 
 good man's name wherewith to shadow myself and you, I 
 also took another duty." 
 
 " Yes," weakly ; clinging to her fingers as if loth ever to 
 part again. "Yes. Yet sometime " 
 
 " When I am free, if you want me I will come. I shall be 
 an old woman then." 
 
 " But my mother, always." 
 
 She drew him to her and kissed the throbbing temples. It 
 seemed as if all the years of patient agony were repaid now. 
 The secret for which she would have died sooner than tell 
 him, had brought him back instead of estranging him.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IT was past midnight when they separated. Alone in his own 
 room, Victor Hurst felt as if a decade of years had passed 
 over him with" the force of a fiery wirlwind. The boyhood of 
 yesterday, with its foolish pride, its crude, unreasoning passions, 
 had been almost swept out of sight. A strong, sad man, 
 who was henceforth to live a little in the shadow, who, when 
 he had carved his own way and brought himself up to any 
 new height, would not be quite as other men. 
 
 Then he thought of the night at Bohmerwald, of Sylvia 
 Redmond. Not that there had been any wild dreams concern 
 ing her, but he knew now that the dewy scarlet lips had 
 banned him out of her world as effectually as if he had been 
 guilty of some crime. Even his ambition lay at his feet like 
 a dead corse. Would there be any voice of resurrection for 
 it, any morning when the stone should be rolled away ? 
 
 To Paul Latour it would make but little difference. Not 
 that he meant the secret should ever pass his lips. He had 
 the honor of another in jj^ keeping now. Yet he felt wronged 
 and outraged by the worlds arbitrary law. If he could find 
 the man who had worked them this evil and his fingers 
 clinched nervously, with a grip in them that would not be 
 good for the throat of him who had lied to both God and a 
 woman. 
 
 But there was no reason now why he should stay, and every 
 consideration in favor of his going. John Hurst would have 
 been more than human if he had loved this boy as one of his 
 own. Victor could see the many struggles now, the effort the 
 old man had made to train him in habits of rigid truth, honor
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 19 
 
 and industry, as he understood them. No dangerous romance 
 or idle philosophy was to be allowed a foothold. 
 
 Pshaw ! Was he a bit of iron ore to be dug out of the ground, 
 melted, refined, hammered, and shaped into some useful but 
 lifeless thing, or a stone dug out of yonder quarry to be 
 chiselled smooth and put into its place ? Had he no right to try 
 the world for himself, to have his own beliefs and aims, until 
 manhood crowned him by the virtue of his twenty-one years ? 
 
 He walked to the open window that the cool wind might 
 chase away the fever-heat of his blood. Throwing his tawny 
 hair aside, still damp with dews of the grass, where he had 
 held his tearless vigil, his throbbing brow took the clean, sweet 
 spring gust, with its undertone of rain. The night was very 
 dark now, and solemn in its silence. A time to cry unto God 
 for help ; but was God at hand, and did He take note of these 
 paltry daily events ? 
 
 He was in no mood to sleep. All the discordant elements 
 of existence were roused ; the subtle, far-reaching forces, the 
 mysterious depths in which lurked crude hopes, passions, and 
 affections, looming up with the indistinctness of uncalled 
 phantoms, which were to develop the soul for which they were 
 sent to act, according to their strength and power, into that 
 nobility which should do honor to its Maker, or to swell the 
 list of wretched, unfaithful beings, who allow themselves to 
 drift beyond refuge, doubting their own power to escape from 
 the influences dragging them down, ^nd God's mercy held out 
 to the last. 
 
 There came a soft rush of rain from the distant hills, with 
 the damp, fragrant odor of young grass, and the pungent 
 aroma of the pines. How tender all the great hushed world 
 seemed ! Six months hence he might be lying under other 
 skies, and have the drowsy lap of waves floating through his 
 brain. But he should never forget this hour. 
 
 "Victor!" 
 
 He heard the step and the voice at the same instant. Open-
 
 1 20 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ing the door he stretched out his hand to his mother, for the 
 light had long since flickered its last 
 
 " Will you come to him?' Her voice held in it the breath 
 less awe of great pain and terror. "For I think he is 
 dying. " 
 
 Victor took one step into the hall 
 
 "You have not been in bed?" grasping his hand with her 
 cold, trembling fingers. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It is near morning. Nearly four when I looked at his 
 watch. And you have been thinking all this time ?" 
 
 "I was not sleepy," in a brief tone, as if he would rather 
 shut himself out of her thoughts. 
 
 A candle was burning on the table at the bed's head, 
 and shed a ghastly glare over the pallid face with its half-open 
 eyes, and parted, colorless lips, that looked almost as if the 
 under-jaw had fallen. A strange, hard breathing, with an awe 
 some rattle in the sound. 
 
 " How long have you noticed this?" 
 
 "'A little while; five minutes, perhaps. He Was sleeping 
 heavily when I came in, and has scarcely stirred." 
 
 She looked at her son with eager, questioning eyes, but her 
 own face was deathly pale. 
 
 Victor tried to rouse him. When he raised the wasted frame 
 the respiration became more labored ; but there was little sign 
 of consciousness. The features were gray and rigid. 
 
 " Have you tried any restoratives?" 
 
 There was nothing at hand but the old-fashioned, clean, 
 smelling camphor. Victor bathed his face with this, and chafed 
 the apparently pulseless wrists. 
 
 Moment after moment, and yet there was no change no 
 sign either of life or speedy dissolution. 
 
 "We can do nothing. I know so little of sickness," with a 
 wan half-smile. "Shall I call in a neighbor while I go for 
 the nearest doctor ?"
 
 With Fate against Him 121 
 
 "No, I will stay alone. But you had better go immedi 
 ately." 
 
 She was thinking how many times John Hurst had been 
 roused from his bed to minister to the sick and dying. How 
 he had gone uncomplainingly out into cold, and storm, and 
 darkness, to some poor wretch stupefied with vile liquor, and 
 shivering over a forlorn handful of fire. He had done the 
 rough, hard work, while his brethren slept at their eafise. 
 
 There was no change in him during her watch. It might 
 have been ten minutes or an hour, for she let the moments go 
 by uncounted. When she heard the footsteps on the path 
 below, she lighted a fresh candle and went out into the hall. 
 Doctor Willard, looking boyishly small beside Victor's towering 
 figure. 
 
 "Mrs. Hurst," and he gave his hand with something beyond 
 professional formality, ' ' I don't wonder. I told him, only 
 yesterday, that he was wearing himself out fast. But, said he, 
 in his solemn way, 'Better rub out than rust out' Yet I 
 believe every man has a right to his own life !" 
 
 They entered the small room, clean and comfortable, but 
 with no attempt at ornamentation. A grave expression came over 
 the doctor's round, plump, little face, and he bit his thin lips 
 under cover of the bristling, gray moustache, as he felt the 
 limp, nerveless wrist 
 
 He began by first inquiring minutely into the symptoms that 
 had preceded the attack, which, to his keen eye, was declared 
 paralysis. 
 
 " Worn out !" he exclaimed, with a slow shake of the head. 
 "When will men learn that there is a slow suicide, as culpable, 
 I hold it, as the more speedy poison. A good man, rabid on 
 the one subject his duty as if God required the impossible 1 
 But we must get to work." 
 
 The gray dawn came slowly up in the wet, heavy sky, chill 
 ing the air as the night had not done, and the east wind was 
 raw. The three thought little of it. Their fire blazed within, 
 
 6
 
 122 With Fate against Him. 
 
 and their hands were busy, if their hearts beat dully with a 
 vague, nameless pain. 
 
 "It is too late for much help," the Doctor said, in his low, 
 measured tone. "He may lie this way for several days, for 
 he has a little of the old iron in his constitution. The proba 
 bilities are, however, that he will rally somewhat, and live eight 
 or ten days, perhaps." 
 
 The verdict scarcely surprised them, and yet each heard it 
 with a heavy heart. In how much had they been answerable 
 for the result? 
 
 "Would any perplexity have brought it to a crisis?" Anah 
 Hurst asked, in a tremulous voice. 
 
 "Perplexity! Well, he had enough of it, I suppose, with 
 those poor wretches down yonder. I noticed the gray look in 
 his face yester-morn, and the sunken eyes ; and while I think, 
 now, his voice had a sharp, shaky sound. It's been coming 
 on some time, I should judge." 
 
 She drew a quick, gasping breath. She wanted to clear 
 herself and her son from any complicity. 
 
 " He was talking awhile last evening rather excitedly, but 
 he ate some supper afterward. He has failed a good deal 
 latterly." 
 
 "No, I don't believe the talk hurt him." What could it 
 have been but the salvation of souls, on which subject the 
 Doctor thought him a little cracked. ' ' It's been coming on 
 some time ; any man with half an eye can see that. " 
 
 She drew a long, relieved breath, and glanced furtively at 
 Victor. 
 
 "I'd get him down stairs, if I could. There'll likely be 
 one and another in to see him." 
 
 "Yes ;" in an absent way. 
 
 He went over to Mrs. Hurst, and took her hand. 
 
 "He has been a good man a little queer in his ways to 
 my thinking, but patient, self-denying, always ready to minis 
 ter to others ; and if there's any seventh heaven I'm sure I've
 
 With Fate against Him. 123 
 
 heard it mentioned he deserves it, although he would be the 
 first to take the lowest seat in the synagogue. And so you 
 needn't fear but that he will have his reward. ' Your loss will 
 be his gain,' though I'm not much of a hand at quoting Scrip 
 ture. And if we doctors could save everybody, it would set 
 the good book sadly at naught." 
 
 " I know ; yes ! I know ;" bowing her head. 
 
 "You have your son to comfort you." 
 
 The Doctor had gone so far out of his usual province that 
 he had to clear his voice several times. 
 
 "I'll drop in again at noon. John Hurst never neglected a 
 fellow-creature, and he shall not suffer for any attention. 
 Good day! Good day !" .bustling out with more ceremony 
 than usual. 
 
 "They know it now," he muttered to himself; "but she'll 
 take it hard, for all she looks so quiet. What a fine fellow 
 that young Hurst is : don't take much after his father. When 
 will people learn that they can't set the laws of health and com 
 mon sense at defiance, even in the cause of religion ? Dan'el 
 went in the den of lions, to be sure ; but for people to be 
 going into dens of beasts and brutes in human shape, with all 
 their filth and rum, and stench enough to kill you, when 
 they're not forced to ! Well, it may be religion ; but it's death 
 all the same. Early and late. No rest, no let up of any kind. 
 Taking his life in his hand, and now it's worn to the last slen 
 der strand. Goodness me, how it does rain ! and I without an 
 umbrella !" 
 
 The Doctor blew his nose hard and trudged onward, his 
 brain in a strange muddle. Did God require just what this 
 man had been doing ? There were plenty of others not half 
 so hard worked, with a good deal better pay. But then it was 
 a queer world. 
 
 Victor Hurst watched him down the street with a dull, un 
 defined pain at his heart, not altogether for himself. Only 
 it seemed sad that any human life should have in it so much
 
 124 With Fate against Him. 
 
 labor and care, so little what, pleasure ? He was not looking 
 for his reward here. And in the early days it had been dif 
 ferent. Somehow he wanted to feel that there had been a 
 little brightness in the life ebbing out to the chill ocean. 
 Death at hand is such a horribly real thing to youth. 
 
 His mother came near and laid her hand upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " You heard ?" she said, in a kind of wandering tone. 
 
 "Yes.. It was not the talk last night. If he had loved 
 me " his dry lips quivering. 
 
 ' ' He did love you. Can you never understand how it was ?" 
 "with a little impatience. 
 
 "For your sake only. We were, too unlike. Let it all go. 
 I shall be a son to him as long as he lives." 
 
 "It is best not in any event to let him know." 
 
 "It is best." 
 
 ' ' She kindled the fire, while Victor went up stairs again. 
 Standing there, he studied the gray, rigid face, wishing from 
 the depths of his soul that it had all been different, that he had 
 been this man's child. For the strength and power and passion 
 he found in his blood startled him. 
 
 "No, he could not have cared," he murmured. "It is not 
 in human nature. I stood between, as it were, and divided 
 the heart of the woman he loved. But, my God ! is my prayer 
 answered sharply as that ?" 
 
 For only last night he had longed to have his mother to 
 himself, and would have crowded out this feeble old man, with 
 his years of devotion. 
 
 After their quiet breakfast, when each only made a pretence 
 of eating, she began to plan for the change that must be 
 effected. Off this room was another and a larger one, a very 
 plain parlor where prayer-meetings were held, the few mar 
 riages that strayed to him solemnized, and penitents examined 
 or comforted. One by one the ornaments had disappeared 
 bright, pretty, little things, which have so much home expression
 
 With Fate against Him. 126 
 
 in them for women. But when she saw that they distressed 
 her husband, she removed them out of sight, bravely cutting 
 off her right hand that it might not offend another. 
 
 A matting, rather worn, covered the floor ; the chairs were 
 old fashioned, cane seated; the centre-table, an ancient mahog 
 any, handed down from her mother ; a few religious pictures ; 
 a plain set of shelves for books, and perhaps the nearest 
 approach to ornament was a pair of pale green-glass candle 
 sticks her silver ones had gone to feed the poor long ago. 
 
 " You will not go to the shop this morning? The bed must 
 be brought here it will be more convenient." 
 
 "Yes;" stripping off his coat that he had put on 
 mechanically. "It had better be mine. We can arrange it 
 all first, you know." 
 
 She bowed acquiescently, and they went to work. How 
 strong he was with those smooth, supple limbs. She watched 
 him with a peculiar pride. 
 
 In an hour the room was ready for its occupant. 
 
 "I will bring him down," he said. 
 
 ' ' But you cannot alone. " 
 
 He smiled gravely, but turned and went up the stairs 
 again. 
 
 If it had been a heavier burden he would still have desired 
 to bear it. There was coming into his mind a sense of ten 
 der, sacred appropriation. This man had carried him about 
 in his arms, a helpless baby, and he should owe no kindness 
 to a stranger that he could perform for him. 
 
 There was no change that morning. The storm meanwhile 
 had subsided into a slow drizzle. Doctor Willard looked in 
 again at noon. 
 
 "I'll come and stay to-night," he said. "I have no im 
 portant cases on hand." For he saw something in the tense 
 lines that seemed to indicate a crisis. 
 
 To both Anah and her son the day was intolerably long, 
 broken late in the afternoon by a few calls. It is so hard to
 
 126 With Fate against Him. 
 
 sit by in utter helplessness and see any human, life drifting 
 out, without reaching forth a hand to stem the current. But 
 Dr. Willard, in his shrewd, practical way, would not have the 
 old man tortured for so vague and slight a chance. 
 
 All the change that was to come for many days occurred 
 that evening. John Hurst opened his eyes, began to breathe 
 more naturally, took a little nourishment ; but lay there like a 
 log, unable to stir hand or foot 
 
 "There's a good deal of grit in him yet," said the Doctor, 
 grimly. " No one can tell how it will end." 
 
 The next day Victor Hurst went back to his old employ 
 ment. Friday, Saturday, and then a blessed Sabbath-day of 
 rest. A bright, genial May sky, with showers of apple-blossoms 
 in the air, and wafts of sweetness. 
 
 There was a crowd in the little cottage all day long, for the 
 news had only been recently noised about. And watching the 
 faces, Victor felt that he had misjudged his father's work. Slow- 
 brained and stolid, their dull eyes peering from under the 
 ledge of receding brows ; coarse, heavy jaws ; hesitating and 
 awkward in speech, until roused by the very excess of emotion, 
 to them the figure lying there, so gray and wan, motionless 
 as if already dead, had but one meaning. Some of the 
 women began to sob hysterically. 
 
 " He come to me one day last winter, "when we were freezin' 
 and starvin', my man helpless in the bed, and not so much as 
 a sup o' tea to wet his lips with. I'll never forget it, never ! 
 He run out again and brought us some food, and took the 
 poor babby in his own arms and give it a drink of milk, and 
 made up a fire. And poor Rob went safe at the last I never 
 heerd such prayers, never ! I'm sure heaven must be for the 
 likes of him." 
 
 "An' I shan't forget when poor Mary died," confessed an 
 nncouth fellow outside the door, brushing his rough sleeve 
 across his eyes. "In the old country she'd had the priest, but 
 I wouldn't hear to it when she married me. We'd gone from
 
 With Fate against Him. 127 
 
 bad to worse, along o' the vile stuff she was allers beggin' me 
 not to drink ; but she never took to no one till she saw him in 
 the chapel, an' he come and prayed with her. An' I promised 
 him, on her death-bed, that I'd never touch another drop; and 
 God knows I've kept my word. He'd come across the street 
 to shake hands wi' the likes of me, and allers wi' a kindly 
 ' Dennis, how are you?' He never stood off on t'other side." 
 
 And there was the table loaded with mugs and bowls of 
 broth, glasses of jelly, a slice of freshly-roasted beef, or a 
 tender bit of steak. Whatever they had out of their poverty 
 and with much toil and anxiety they prepared their best for 
 him who had given so freely to them. 
 
 Not only tracts and sermons and prayers, it seemed. Not 
 mere exhortations or denunciations. This was why he had 
 pinched his own life, that he might have a little out of his 
 pittance for them. For their perishing souls he had yearned 
 in prayer through weary midnights. 
 
 Coarse and illiterate as they were, they preached an eloquent 
 sermon to Victor Hurst. No deprivation or poverty could ever 
 have brought him to their level ; for his instincts were those of 
 a gentleman, come from whom they might. But something in 
 the rude, tender gratitude touched him deeply. Was there 
 more in religion than he had cared to believe of late? And 
 did John Hurst, making the creed a little too strait at times, 
 still have hold of the great everlasting truths ? Ah, what else 
 could have so moved these grovelling souls ? 
 
 Two more days passed. There had been a slight amend 
 ment, if it could so be called, and with it had come the appe 
 tite of a famishing man. Anah fed him like a child, and he 
 turned his slow-moving eyes upon her with the vacant stare of 
 one long asleep, and who opens his eyes on strange sights. 
 
 "To-morrow," she said, coming to sit by her son at the 
 open window, where a young moon began to climb the wide 
 sky. . 
 
 ' ' To-morrow, " he echoed slowly.
 
 128 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "And you have been counting on it so much for almost a 
 year?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember," with a peculiar smile. "One August 
 day the flames burst out into an open blaze. I have never been 
 the same since. But perhaps, we all change. There must 
 be some inward growth." 
 
 1 ' And to-morrow you were you will be free. " 
 
 ' ' Yes. In one way I am glad to have the chain lifted. It 
 is good to be a free man, bound by no promises save your 
 own." 
 
 "And your friend Paul ?" 
 
 "He has gone down to the Bohemian settlement; he has 
 some old friends there." 
 
 Her fingers began to work nervously, and a fluttering pale 
 ness played around the lips that seemed to sink now and then, 
 as if an undertow of fear drew them in toward her soul. 
 
 "Victor," with a quaver in her voice, "I ought to tell you; 
 the doctor said to-day " 
 
 He caught the fingers in his, cold and trembling as they were, 
 with a sick, inward fear. 
 
 "He said that father," stumbling a little over the old 
 name, "might last a long while. Cases are not uncommon 
 where one helpless as he is, has recovered partially. It may 
 be years " 
 
 "Well ?" breaking her long pause. 
 
 "I wanted to say that since your plans are all made, I be 
 lieve that I can get along. There is considerable of the salary 
 unpaid, and friends have been very kind." 
 
 " You don't think thai of me ?" His voice rising to a strained, 
 hurt pitch. " You don't think that I would go away and leave 
 you alone with him, dependent upon charity ? Oh, mother 1 
 mother ! This is a bitter punishment." 
 
 "No, I did not ;" kissing her whole trust into the throbbing, 
 fevered lips. " But I wanted you to feel quite free. My duty 
 does not include yours," with a sad flutter of a smile.
 
 With Fate against Him. 129 
 
 "No. My duty is distinct. The man who cared for me in 
 my helpless childhood, deserves a return in his adversity. I 
 have been proud, cold, selfish ; wrapped in dreams of my own 
 advancement, and tempted of the devil in a manner that you 
 could hardly understand. But my post is here until he dies ;" 
 clearing his throat. "I'll have all this foul, black ingratitude 
 out of my veins !" 
 
 She saw, then, with a nameless terror of relief, that he ac 
 cepted the position. She remembered a time when she had 
 been ambitious to bring herself up to a pure and lofty standard, 
 to cast off any habit that might seem to the man she loved like 
 some faint profanation of vulgarity, or the touch of a poverty 
 that might leave its mark ; yet he, with his high-born, delicate 
 impulses, with his proud descent which was like a king's lineage 
 to him, the chivalric notions nurtured amid luxury and refine 
 ment, and all the higher appliances of beauty, art, literature, 
 and wealth, had not scrupled to forswear himself when the time 
 of temptation came. For how much would an old name and 
 pure blood count ? Did not God have another code by which 
 to test men ? 
 
 "But if there should come a time, when in the depths of 
 your pain you should turn and hate me ?" she cried with all the 
 anguish of fear, hesitating to accept his sacrifice. 
 
 "That will never be. No, I am not such a brute as that." 
 
 "But if you had never known? After bearing the burden 
 until my shoulders had become accustomed to it, why should 
 God let it fall upon another, escaping from weak, irresponsi 
 ble lips ?" 
 
 "Your churchmen would say to humble my pride ;" with 
 boyish bitterness. " But why has God let you suffer all these 
 years, when you have been serving Him ? Why should He let 
 this man blight your innocent girlhood, and be prosperous and 
 happy ? Does He have anything to do with it ?" almost fiercely. 
 " There is a mystery about it that I am slow to understand." 
 
 She took his hand in hers, caressing it in her tender, silent 
 
 6*
 
 130 With Fate against Him. 
 
 way, but her lips were dry and dumb. Ah, if she could have 
 blotted it out ; or, if he could have gone before this sad event 
 had befallen her. 
 
 For she fancied that she would have been stronger alone, 
 and that he, not knowing the secret, might have struggled up 
 to bolder heights. 
 
 They had yet to learn the tragical contests that are going on 
 continually between the strongest, and perhaps the highest 
 impulses of the soul ; and the chain of trivial circumstances 
 that drifts it so far from the shore where it had meant to make 
 a haven, tosses it about like some useless weed, and not seldom 
 wearies out its struggles after a more satisfying existence. Every 
 day some soul is wrecked, and casual observers glancing only at 
 the placid current, wonder why. 
 
 Oh, God ! Was there any hand stretched out to save them in 
 the depths of their despair ?
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BACK to the old life. Mr. Norcross had only smiled a little 
 when the young man reconsidered his determination, believing 
 it the result of his own sensible advice. Victor might have 
 nursed his pride and gone elsewhere, there were other shops 
 open to him ; but his great wound had penetrated so deeply 
 that these lesser thorns scarcely pricked him. 
 
 There was a great deal of sympathy expressed for Mr. Hurst. 
 His brethren in the ministry paid Mrs. Hurst calls of condol 
 ence, and sighed over the helpless body of their co-laborer. It 
 was one of the mysterious providences of God, whose ways 
 were past finding out, and she was exhorted to faith, patience, 
 and grace. 
 
 Every one hoped that it would be the means of bringing the 
 young man to a sense of duty ; a return to the fold. Surely 
 this was a call which he would hardly refuse to heed. 
 
 He had his own struggles and inward monitions. A wild, 
 eager grasping for the material light above him, that lured him 
 on with so beguiling a ray, and yet evaded his outstretched 
 hands. He meant to get out of this hard, narrow groove of 
 poverty, since he was able to help himself, and institute a new 
 order of things at home. He understood his own life better 
 than these men who prated of lessons and warnings. 
 
 John Hurst improved slowly if it could be called that. 
 The heavy eyelids gained strength for a meaningless, unwink 
 ing stare, and the thin lips would occasionally move in unin 
 telligible mutterings ; breathing and eating went on with the 
 monotony of a machine, the only links between him and the 
 sentient, blossoming world without. Sometimes, in her dis-
 
 132 With Fate against Him. 
 
 tressful watching, Anah would fancy the distortion of the lips 
 a smile, and the hard stare a look of recognition, as if the poor 
 soul had been stirred by some gleam of intelligence common 
 to humanity. 
 
 She took up her cross meekly, thinking that she could see 
 in it a righteous retribution for the past years' discontent and 
 lack of faith in God. For although we may believe in a 
 system of rewards and punishments hereafter, it is so natural 
 to apply them to this narrow existence as well. All her life 
 had been one of reparation. For what ? Because in the 
 innocency of her girlhood, she had believed in the man who 
 was a prince and a hero to her, had trusted him with the 
 law, not made alike for all men as she had learned. 
 
 There was little cordiality between Victor and his fellow- 
 workmen. Baxter had gravely counseled him in the begin 
 ning. 
 
 ' ' You're going the wrong way. There's no use in a man 
 making enemies when he might as well make friends." 
 
 "The friendship being of such a high order 1" with a 
 short, bitter laugh. 
 
 "There's as good men here as you are, Hurst! They 
 don't like to see a youngster lording it over them, as if they 
 weren't fit to speak to. I've known the men in a shop to 
 strike when one hand became obnoxious." 
 
 "I don't interfere with them or ask any odds. All that 
 Norcross demands, is that I shall do my work well. If he 
 chooses to put a beer-drinking Englishman on the next forge, 
 I can act my pleasure as to whether I'll be ' hail fellow ' with 
 him or not. " 
 
 ' ' They are more than half your own countrymen, when it 
 comes to that," exclaimed Baxter indignantly. 
 
 "I can make friends or not, I suppose, as I like;" swing 
 ing his strong arm nearer the foreman, in a manner that 
 would have been insolent if it had not been indifferent. 
 
 "You're too full of the new-fashioned quips and quirks,
 
 With Fate against Him. 133 
 
 Hurst," eyeing him with a shrewd under-meaning. " The 
 world will not be any the better for your tinkering at it and 
 trying to change things. You may as well start with the sup 
 position that most of the men are as good, and honest, and 
 well meaning as yourself, if they do drink a little beer or 
 smoke short pipes." 
 
 " I haven't interfered with their pipes nor their rum. Let 
 them drink, and smoke, and go to the devil by the road which 
 suits them best. And if I choose to take some other road, I've 
 the right." 
 
 Baxter studied the flushed and restless face. Curiously 
 enough there was something about the young fellow that 
 attracted while it repelled. Baxter, like most other men, felt 
 called upon to preach to him. We turn evangelists easily 
 when some one strays from our way of thinking. 
 
 " And with your father's life before you, Hurst," making 
 a doubtful pause. 
 
 ' ' My father's life ? Well, what has it been ? A great sac 
 rifice at first ; for I do believe he might have gained a com 
 petency, instead of starving soul and brain and body in the 
 forlorn hope of the redemption of the world. And the reward 
 of his labor bids fair to be a helpless old age. What do 
 these people care, for whom he labored? They came and 
 cried over him at first, and held up his good deeds. How 
 many of them are remembered to-day ? No ; when you 
 point me to an example, let it be a different one from 
 that." 
 
 Baxter was silent. He knew what he meant in his soul, but 
 he could not bring it to the right shape upon his lips. 
 
 "Or, perhaps you think it my duty to become a parson?" 
 with his scornful, fiery look. 
 
 "I think you are taking the world at its wrong end, Hurst ; 
 and that you'll have to fight your way through, just as a man 
 does who leaves the beaten track in the woods, and goes 
 stumbling through bramble and underbrush, when he might
 
 134 With Fate against Him. 
 
 have had a clear path and bits of sunshine. And for a man 
 who has to work " 
 
 "Well?" raising himself to his full height, while his eyes 
 flashed out steely gleams. 
 
 " It's not well for him to quarrel with his bread and butter." 
 
 With that the man walked away. He always had the worst 
 of it in these little encounters with Hurst, and yet he held to 
 a stubborn belief that he was right. He accepted the facts 
 cheerily, that Victor kicked against. He had been born in 
 such a groove in life, given a plain education, taught a trade, 
 and at length gained a fair position. He was foreman here, 
 with a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month. 
 He had a very comfortable cottage in a pleasant street, a 
 thrifty wife who even now did a little dressmaking when her 
 own work was pretty well finished. There were four healthy, 
 rosy children, and Amos Baxter was a happy, contented man; 
 read his paper at night with a clear conscience, and grumbled 
 only at the taxes when the opposite party were in power. A 
 commonplace man with a commonplace wife, who would live 
 and die in this station, and never stir up the world trying to 
 get out of it. 
 
 " For there must always be a producing class as well as a 
 consuming class," was his bit of political economy. 
 
 So you may infer that Mrs. Baxter was not one of the hungry 
 women of the new school, or her husband would hardly have 
 been suffered to plod on, and feel that he was doing his best 
 in the world. 
 
 He had a great antipathy to the restless moods of such men 
 as Hurst. 
 
 "Why can't they be content with their station?" he would 
 ask in his phlegmatic way. 
 
 Why? If a man is born with fine brain and nerves, with 
 an eye for exquisite sights and sounds, and a soul that hungers 
 after beauty in all its manifold forms, can he be content with 
 the stone that is proffered him for bread ? If he hears sounds
 
 With Fate against Him. 135 
 
 of deeper meaning in the air, and can translate the birds' clear 
 carol, the drone of bees, and the hum of countless insects, 
 mingled with the eternal pulse of the distant ocean, will you 
 sting him with the scorpion of content? Rather let him fight 
 his way out if he have the will and the stamina, and if he 
 perish by the wayside, wash your hands clean, oh Priest and 
 Levite, flinging the last drops over his grave, that the unquiet 
 spirit may be laid. 
 
 With Victor's larger income, some changes had appeared in 
 the little cottage. The floor was still uncarpeted, and the 
 chairs and other ordinary appointments remained the same. 
 But the napery was finer, the common glass was exchanged, 
 the old, time-worn ware gave place to simple white china. 
 There was always a bouquet at his corner, and a vase in each 
 window. The little courtyard in front no longer depended on 
 neighbors for voluntary offerings, but bloomed abundantly in 
 choicest fragrance. Roses, from the palest tint to the most 
 glowing velvety crimson ; thrifty, healthy mignonette with its 
 mass of cool greenery and uncomprehended bloom ; choice 
 geraniums, and spikes of tube-roses for late summer sweetness. 
 
 And Anah Hurst dared to make fugitive excursions to the 
 lost land of her youth, led thither by her son's soul. How 
 much beauty, and pleasure, and sweet comfort was it necessary 
 to give up in order to enter the kingdom of Heaven ? It had 
 been a troubled question with her a long while. Now and 
 then the old cloud crossed her brow. 
 
 "You don't think it wrong?" Victor would say, when he 
 found her musing on the shady porch-bench, with the ques 
 tioning look in her eyes. 
 
 "It is so delightful! I sit and watch their beauty, and 
 wonder if they were made for a snare, when one ought to be 
 thinking of human things instead : of the world lying in 
 wickedness without, of the perishing souls that go up to judg 
 ment without a prayer." 
 
 " I think you pray for them all ;" more softly than was his
 
 136 With Fate against Him. 
 
 wont. "Do you suppose God grudges us this bit of beauty, 
 when He has sown so much broadcast in the world ? You 
 make Him narrow and cruel." 
 
 Then she would look at them still, with a mist in her soft 
 eyes, and wonder, as many do, who bring their faith within 
 the straitest bounds, what the Saviour meant when He 
 enjoined His disciples to give up houses and lands, wife and 
 children, and follow Him with scrip and staff. The man lying 
 yonder, helpless as an infant, had done it, and where was his 
 reward ? 
 
 Forgotten already ! Yes, it was too sadly true. A new 
 man had taken his place ; a man of loud pretensions, and a 
 peculiar self-aggrandizement that you find in some natures. 
 A man likely to reap what others had sown, and bring in his 
 sheaves with much complacency ; but who believed in good 
 dinners as well. In a month he gained more credit than John 
 Hurst had done in years. His clerical brethren began to make 
 much of him, and wonder that they had not discovered poor 
 brother Hurst's inefficiency before. 
 
 But the souls up in heaven, to whom he had preached as 
 the Saviour did to the thief upon the cross, through many a 
 weary midnight, what answered they? Is there not some divine 
 law of compensation ? Truly said St. Paul, " If the dead rise 
 not again, we are of all men most miserable." 
 
 Victor, hearing some of these things, carefully kept them 
 from his mother ; chafing secretly at her reluctance to enjoy the 
 good gifts of life while souls without were still in need. Her 
 heart was so tender and pitiful to all in want, whether it came 
 through their own improvidence, or more serious misfortunes. 
 
 But being shut out of the old world of labor, her heart, so 
 long active, must have something on which to expend its 
 energies and tenderness. For John Hurst, at present, there 
 was nothing beyond purely physical wants. If reason came 
 back to him for a few moments, he was more likely to babble 
 of childhood's green fields than any later interest. Since her
 
 With Fate against Him. 137 
 
 son had allowed her to gain entrance within his sacred and 
 secret world, she thought, prayed, and smiled over him, begin 
 ning to dream strange, wild dreams, and anon checking her 
 self, and bringing out the old work-basket, for "the poor ye 
 have always with you." 
 
 Paul Latour's disappointment had been deeper than one 
 would have fancied from his volatile nature. He dropped into 
 the little cottage now and then, and rather shocked Mrs. 
 Hurst with his bits of free, daring philosophy that he flung up 
 rocket-wise. Perhaps it was as well that Victor should not 
 have such eyes to assist him in his first views of the world. 
 
 An encounter in a photographic gallery supplied him with 
 part of the interest which his soul so craved, since it could not 
 have nature to study. 
 
 Alfred Lowndes was working himself up to a small local 
 reputation with little genius for a foundation, and much indus 
 try and actual truth. Now and then he translated some bit of 
 wood and water, a few fallen scarlet-brown leaves, shrivelled by 
 the October frosts, faded grasses that had once been rank, nod 
 ding their yellow heads on brown stems, with a late dragon 
 fly perched high a-top, a moss-grown stump with abundant 
 lichens, and the straggling roots washed clean by the pebbly 
 stream. The faithfulness in it would be good, but the higher 
 and divine power called "inspiration," seldom racked his 
 brains with torturing dreams of beauty. 
 
 But one afternoon Victor gained courage to blunder into a 
 half-explanation. 
 
 Would Lowndes give him some lessons? He was quite 
 able to pay for the trouble. 
 
 "So you've a fancy that way, eh'? Well, it's hard work !" 
 sighing like an old pilgrim. 
 
 " It would be a kind of play to me ;" with an odd smile. 
 What did Lowndes' limp, white hands know of hard work ? 
 
 The artist gave a little inward humph of contempt at the 
 conceit of the brawny machinist, who would be much more
 
 138 With Fate against Him. 
 
 at home amid bars of iron and steel than fine gradations of 
 color. 
 
 Still, when it came to that, he could make the lessons very 
 little trouble, and Alfred Lowndes' genius was not of the 
 generous,- prodigal type, neither was he rich enough to afford 
 to despise money. One afternoon each week Victor spent in 
 the little den partitioned off from the work and the reception- 
 room, and as Lowndes had but few suggestions to make 
 besides the merest business, to Victor it was a kind of dreamy 
 holiday-time, when he could forget the world without. 
 
 This was another thing that fretted Baxter, who insisted 
 strenuously upon steadiness. 
 
 " It gives a man a bad reputation, Hurst," he said, a good 
 deal vexed. " What can you want of an afternoon every 
 week ?" 
 
 "That's my own affair ;" his nerves stiffening as if he had 
 some unseen enemy to beat back. "If I choose to lose the 
 time it does not cost any one else a penny." 
 
 " But we're pretty busy now, and one likes to depend upon 
 his man. It makes bad work." 
 
 And Baxter would have discharged him upon the spot, 
 only he knew well that Hurst, with his lost time, did as much 
 as any man in the shop, and did it well. 
 
 "What a pity that he can't be content !" glancing at him 
 from a distance, and studying the lithe, strong figure. "And 
 if he's ambitious he might have a place of his own, some day. 
 If he hadn't been a parson's son " but there the wide dif 
 ference between Victor Hurst and his father puzzled the 
 narrow brain. 
 
 So Victor stole off to tJJb studio and spent the hours there 
 that would go too fast, always too fast. There was so much 
 drudgery to learn about colors that he used often to get dis 
 couraged ; and somehow, the fineness of detail wearied him 
 exceedingly. To potter for hours over some small turn of a 
 tree, or a bit of shaggy bark browned and seamed by many
 
 With Fate against Him. 139 
 
 a storm, tried his patience sorely. Often he stayed until the 
 last red ray of sunlight would drop out of the narrow window 
 and all the air seem full of purple motes. 
 
 He learned something besides this paltry daubing, and 
 about as useless. One day he was introduced to Miss Marcia 
 Lowndes. 
 
 He had been brought in contact with very few women. 
 Through boyhood he had shunned them, and the odd little 
 talk with Sylvia Redmond was about the only episode of the 
 kind in his life. 
 
 Miss Marcia Lowndes might have been "the fiction of 
 twenty-five, founded upon the fact of forty." She and her 
 brother were types of tolerably successful mediocrity. New 
 England school teachers at first, they had, with Yankee thrift 
 and perseverance, contrived to make their way. So, when 
 Alfred Lowndes found a fair business opening at Weareham, 
 he wrote for his sister, and they set up their Lares and Penates 
 in the smoky town. 
 
 "I've made quite a hit here," he declared by way of wel 
 coming her. "My method of finishing photographs takes 
 wonderfully it's quite new. Then, I've sold one picture." 
 
 The height of his ambition was to go abroad, and he seemed 
 in a fair way of achieving this distinction. 
 
 As for Miss Lowndes, she had quite a position of her own. 
 In the early days she had been a rabid disciple of phrenology, 
 brushed her flossy-flaxen hair straight back from the rather 
 high, narrow forehead, and prated of perceptives, reflectives, 
 and brain power. Since then she had written a book and 
 numerous essays for second-rate periodicals, strongly imbued 
 with misty transcendentalism and Ifceak dilutions of Carlyle, 
 and followed Emerson's "inner impulses," according to her 
 own light. 
 
 You could see that in her face; but now it was "framed 
 in," as she would have expressed it, by the fluffy hair, wnose 
 silver threads were scarcely discernable from the original, the
 
 140 With. Fate against Him. 
 
 brows and lashes being of the same indistinct color. Prob 
 ably with the roundness and red and white of youth she had 
 been pretty, but now her nose was sharp, her vague, wander 
 ing eyes of no particular color, and her chin, always too long 
 for beauty, had not improved with the general angularity of 
 years. There was about her a touch of fine ladyism, that rus 
 tled like a new silk gown ; and when she looked at you 
 through her gold-bowed glasses, and talked impressively of 
 the inner centre, and the development of soul according to the 
 higher laws of nature, you felt that she might indeed be a 
 latter-day disciple. 
 
 Stumbling up the narrow stairs one day, Victor found her 
 in the studio instead of his master. In the work-room, a tall, 
 lanky boy was pottering with chemicals and washing paper. 
 Business was rather dull just now, and customers seldom 
 dropped in after the morning. 
 
 Miss Lowndes had taken quite an interest in this pupil of 
 her brother's. On the whole, there was a trifle of romance 
 about his history that went to prove her pet theory, that genius, 
 like beauty, was no respecter of position, and seldom came at 
 the beck of sordid gold. 
 
 He flushed at finding a woman in this "den," and stopped 
 short. 
 
 "Really splendid," was her mental ejaculation. "A kind 
 of Titan, with a Greek contour, and and the bright hair of 
 those sunny islands bathed by the glowing sea. There cer 
 tainly is the divine essence in his face." 
 
 " My brother was called away on some business. You are 
 his pupil, Mr. Hurst, I presume ?" and as she inclined her 
 head graciously, the fluffy hair fell into her eyes. " He left a 
 message on a card. How could I have been so careless ?" bus 
 tling about, with her rather fussy motions. "Oh, here it is. 
 And I must apologize ; but I was so interested in these studies. 
 I have a passionate love for all pertaining to art." 
 
 Victor flushed and took the card awkwardly.
 
 With Fate against Him. 141 
 
 "And you, too, are ascending the hill difficultly, as many of 
 us have to, by slow and toilsome steps. But all true develop 
 ment, Mr. Hurst, must come from the inner centre. We sec 
 it in nature everywhere. Even the simple grain of corn teaches 
 us this grand fact." 
 
 She paused, quite out of breath, and taking up her sandal-L 
 wood fan, rjegan to fill the waves of air with pungent odor. 
 
 "And how long a grain of art lies dormant in the brain !" 
 with a most benignant approval of his silence or her eloquence, 
 which, it would have been hard to tell. " How slow the mys 
 terious processes by which it is unfolded ! Minerva sprang full- 
 statured from the brain of a god, but we unfortunates of a 
 later day have to develop according to circumstances, often 
 hard and unfavorable." 
 
 "Yes," Victor said, briefly, the washed-out eyes seeming to 
 expect a reply. 
 
 "You have known the struggles of a longing, aspiring soul 
 in its search for the true and the beautiful ; you have watched 
 for the divine inspiration through many a weary hour, happy 
 to have the serene influence folded about you at last. To those 
 who are not born blind and deaf, Mr. Hurst, she speaks in 
 every leaf, in every waft of air from orient shores ; and happy 
 he who can prison her on canvas, or reproduce her in verse. 
 I sometimes tell Alfred that I envy him. Yet, why should I 
 not be content with my own gifts, except that human nature is 
 insatiable !" 
 
 The fanning went on more vigorously. Victor began to 
 hunt about the little room for his belongings. He could not 
 waste his precious moments listening to this flighty non 
 sense. 
 
 " I have been looking over your studies. I suppose I ought 
 not to have taken the liberty ; but I am so extravagantly fond of 
 art. This head of Tantalus is wonderfully fine !" 
 
 It was a rough sketch, done in crayon and chalk with a great 
 deal of vigor.
 
 142 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Lowndes was rather in the habit of snubbing his pupil in 
 these matters. He always took high pre-Raphaelitic ground. 
 
 "These things," with a sniff of disdain making his short 
 nose positively stubby "these things used to do very well, but 
 people, or rather taste, has outgrown them, and asks for pure 
 nature. The closer you can get to her the better if you ever 
 mean to do anything." 
 
 Which closeness meant fidelity to a hedge-bush, if it had not 
 a line of beauty in it, or the lace on a child's apron. 
 
 Though Alfred Lowndes rather liked the prestige of being 
 master, the improvement of his pupil was of but small moment 
 to him. These strong, unhandsome faces, with their wordless 
 rage, passion, and despair, never touched him, since prettiness 
 was his aim, and not the grandeur of beauty ; while the small 
 prettiness of detail was what Victor Hurst would never be able 
 to reproduce. His life-poem must be an epic, not a fireside 
 ballad. 
 
 Her appreciation stirred him in spite of the silly rhodomon- 
 tade that had gone before, so little comprehended by him that 
 he hardly knew how to judge it. 
 
 "I liked it," he answered, timidly, yet with the honesty of 
 his nature. " It seems as if more of my soul goes into such 
 work." 
 
 Alfred had said before he went out, " The fellow has scarcely 
 an atom of true genuis, but it pleases him to paint ; and I 
 suppose he would think it mean in me to refuse a helping 
 hand." 
 
 When Miss Lowndes took up a hobby she was always very 
 enthusiastic over it, and she possessed a more generous nature 
 than her brother. Besides, she had a great passion for gather 
 ing little circles about her. With her lost years and faded face 
 she could hardly hope for lovers ; but foolish and flighty as she 
 was, she did make friends, and occasionally admirers. She 
 had seen many notabilities, and always turned her personal 
 knowledge to a good account.
 
 With Fate against Him. 143 
 
 The manliness and physical power of Victor won her more 
 than the power of his genius. He was handsome. The tall, 
 symmetrical figure, the eyes that could flash so superbly, the 
 perfect tints of health, and the rich, mellow voice pleased her 
 woman's fancy. Studying him a little more closely, she saw 
 that his foot was shapely, and his hand, not the brawny hand 
 of a blacksmith. He certainly would be imposing in society. 
 So in return for his wasted hour, she made him promise to 
 come to Rose Cottage, as she called it. 
 
 " For I must have a little beauty, and this town is so ex 
 ceedingly ugly. So I have made a little nest, and shall be glad 
 to see you. You may meet some people whom you will like, 
 for I always manage to surround myself with congenial 
 spirits." 
 
 So fan, and laced-handkerchief, and the rustling manner 
 floated down stairs with Miss Lowndes ; and for once, instead 
 of painting, Victor Hurst fell into a reverie.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Two or three dainty, delicate notes came to Victor Hurst 
 before he could summon sufficient resolution to accept an 
 invitation few any special purpose. He had strolled down to 
 Rose Cottage twice ; the first time, hearing gay voices, he had 
 not ventured in, and the second, Miss Lowndes sat alone in 
 the vine-wreathed porch. 
 
 She sprang up with a girl's eagerness. "So glad, so de 
 lighted to see him. Why had he not come to her little reunion ? 
 For, indeed, they were not grand enough to be called parties. " 
 
 He stammered out some excuse his father having been 
 worse than usual. 
 
 " How very sad !" and Miss Lowndes sighed. 
 
 He was awkward and ill at ease ; and half wished he had 
 not ventured. 
 
 "What are you doing now?" Perhaps Miss Lowndes' 
 social success was partly due to the fact that she always led her 
 guests to talk of themselves instead of burdening them with 
 her pains and anxieties. 
 
 "Nothing;" in his blunt, brief way. " I sometimes think 
 that perhaps I have made a mistake. There is no ques 
 tion about your brother having a genius for painting, Miss 
 Lowndes ?" 
 
 He seemed to ask it in a humble, eager fashion. In his 
 mind he was studying out his own problem. 
 
 "No, I should think not;" with a pleased little laugh, 
 rather thin and hysterical. "You heard, of course, that he 
 had sold another picture? And he has two orders lor out-of- 
 *loor photographic views that will be .very profitable. " 
 
 "He is in luck."
 
 With Fate against Him. 145 
 
 Victor Hurst tried to crowd down the demon of envy, rising 
 in his breast. He was very human, and no angelic hero. 
 
 "Yes. Dear Alfred! He deserves it, though: he has 
 worked very hard. And I may tell you as a secret please 
 don't mention it to him that we are quite certain to go abroad 
 in the fall." 
 
 Victor made an effort to draw his breath regularly. 
 
 "And you ?" 
 
 "Oh, I shall go, of course. To tell the truth, I have been 
 waiting for him. It has been the great ambition of my life, 
 Mr. Hurst, to see Rome, the once mighty queen of nations ; 
 the Alps ; Switzerland, with its pellucid lakes, and the blue 
 Mediterranean ; to spend long days in picture-galleries, and 
 hunting over old ruins " 
 
 She gave a gasp for breath she always did when she talked 
 rapidly. 
 
 ' ' I shall write a book of travels, and probably correspond 
 for several papers while I am gone. There is so much to see 
 abroad, and when one has a soul easily moved by these 
 grand touches of beauty, the enthusiasm is little less than 
 inspiration." 
 
 How these two people seemed to prosper and advance. 
 Everything flowed in to them. 
 
 "It is the one thing you need, Mr. Hurst. When it comes 
 to that, no one's education is really finished until he has lived 
 abroad. But you are so devoted to your dear father." 
 
 Victor thought of the narrow chance that had intervened. 
 
 "As a people, we are too new and crude. 4 We need toning 
 down, softening, refining ; and the leisure of foreign lands 
 gives us opportunity for this. But what were we talking of 
 oh, my brother's genius." 
 
 She made another long detour over .the hills and vales of 
 fancy, while Victor was thinking in his plain, matter-of-fact 
 way, whether he had the constituent elements of success within 
 his soul, and if so, how they were to be worked out. Day by 
 
 7
 
 146 With Fate against Him. 
 
 day he was awakening to the fact that another had begun life 
 wrongly for him. He could never find happiness nor content 
 in the shop yonder ; and yet, what if he made a more fatal mis 
 take himself? He and Alfred Lowndes were so very dissimilar ; 
 if one had genius, the other must be some distance from it. 
 
 And what was he to do then ? Give up his plans, his love ? 
 
 She flattered and soothed, after the fashion of shallow, and 
 rather tender-hearted women, and he returned home in a bet 
 ter humor with himself, promising to attend her next reunion. 
 
 Fortunately for his self-complacency, Alfred was called 
 away ; for although there was an outward friendliness between 
 the two, some fine, inexplicable difference would keep them 
 from being even ordinarily sympathetic. 
 
 Victor was rather glad to please Miss Lowndes. He found 
 her in white, with an abundance of flying ends of ribbon, and 
 hair dropping in her pale eyes with every motion ; but she 
 welcomed him warmly, and soon made him feel at home. 
 
 Rose Cottage abounded in small shams, as cheap beauty is 
 ever apt to do ; and yet, why grumble since it has become the 
 fashion to preach economy and beauty together. If the vases 
 were not Bohemian and Malachite, the flowers looked prettily 
 in them, and the different colors showed cheerfully in the 
 lamp-light. What mattered the cheap Brussels under foot, 
 the plain muslin curtains tied back with ribbon, and many 
 another thing that Miss Lowndes had arranged in the pleni 
 tude of her complacency? Why destroy all these illusions 
 with the stem voice of reality, that decrees your lace shall be 
 of the best or none at all, your glass and china fine, or else 
 no friends shall be invited to gaze upon it ? 
 
 In spite of being a stranger, Victor did enjoy the evening. 
 The guests, like the appointments, were not of the highest order, 
 but they had a certain, refinement and cultivation, very fascinat 
 ing to him who could only gauge them by the simple events 
 of his own life, and the still lower round in which his destiny 
 had been cast Men who discussed Goethe and Schiller, Kant
 
 With Fate against Him. 147 
 
 and Swedenborg, and Shlegel, who had stories to tell of Paris 
 salons, or Roman studios, or who, coming nearer home, 
 touched upon abstract theories, or vital questions that roused 
 him to a sense of new life, and made him hate more than 
 ever to drone out his days in a workshop. Not from any 
 purely personal -Sfense of pride, but a deeper craving for the 
 spiritual existence that so mocked him with airy, delicate 
 visions. 
 
 The women were not so entertaining to him, their round of 
 subjects being much narrower, and he was quite delighted to 
 steal away to a corner where two pale, gaunt-eyed men were 
 discussing the old problem of social equality. Was it strange 
 that he should drink in heresies for truth ? 
 
 But how to get out of the groove was what puzzled him. 
 What could he do but the one thing, money being an absolute 
 necessity ! 
 
 And so his mother saw him growing moody and restless 
 again. The trees and flowers, bits of rock and stream, and 
 the puzzle of light and shade lost its charm. He could make 
 nothing look like the grand picture out of doors. Beside 
 that, the daubing was vile, miserable stuff. 
 
 "Vet to give it up seemed like relinquishing all that made 
 life endurable. To be thrust down to that bare, bald, bread- 
 and-butter existence, with its monotonous labor from morning 
 till night did God ask it of any human soul ? Was it not 
 rather some horrible cruelty of man, some device to grind and 
 torture his neighbor when he had a chance? 
 
 He went down the river a fortnight afterward, as Miss 
 Lowndes' escort to a grand musical entertainment in one of 
 the loveliest groves in the surrounding country. An out-door 
 concert with the freedom of a picnic attached. He had been 
 fighting his own soul so hardly of late that he felt pushed to 
 the last gasp, and was glad of a little rest. 
 
 Who would have guessed it from his handsome face, where 
 the moodiness left only the stamp of a haughty spirit? Miss
 
 148 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Lowndes entertained him in her usual weak, effusive style, but 
 he had lost interest in Wilhelm Meister, and for his soul could 
 not have told what the distinctive features of a Claude paint 
 ing were, and wherein it differed from the Dutch masters. 
 
 There was music in abundance. Paul Latour had stirred 
 his soul with a single voice ; to-day, this orchestra trailing the 
 winding melody of French horn, flute, and viol, with all the 
 blare of noisier instruments until the fragrant woodland air was 
 one pulsating sea of melody, never roused him at all. 
 
 Leaving the women to their gossip and criticisms, he stole 
 away to a thicket and threw himself on a mossy bank. From 
 this little loop-hole he watched the gay crowd surging to and 
 fro, for now the orchestra had disbanded for a brief while. 
 The brilliant panorama of handsome women, for in this sum 
 mer glamor of leafy shade and sifting sunshine, hair, and cheek, 
 and eye caught a softened splendor. 
 
 Two men approached slowly. The taller of the two was a 
 fine, portly man, of aristocratic bearing, and a face still hand 
 some in spite of the marks of good living and worldliness. 
 Victor shut his eyes with a haunting pain, as if he must re 
 member where he had seen it before. The turn of the head, 
 the peculiar and curious grace of a fine manner, and even 
 the smile seemed strangely familiar. 
 
 The other was smaller and slighter, stooped a trifle and had 
 the serious air of a scholar, and the careless dress of one who 
 studied the world and its ways but little, and heeded them less 
 yet. A sweet, pleasant countenance, though not one that 
 impressed you strongly at first. 
 
 "What foolishness, Milnor," the taller exclaimed with a 
 careless laugh. " Let me drive you over to see Mrs. Gilliat 
 instead. I should think by this time you had enough of 
 unfortunate proteges to let unfledged geniuses alone." 
 
 Victor caught the name Gilliat. And then there rushed 
 over him the remembrance of a night a year ago the episode 
 he had half-forgotten. Had this name any connection with it?
 
 With Fate against Him. 149 
 
 " I promised to see him, at least." 
 
 "To please a foolish woman. Milnor, you hardly improve 
 with age," giving a gay, genial laugh, in which there could not 
 be a thought of offence. "You are as famous a radical as 
 ever. " 
 
 ' ' And you are a born aristocrat." 
 
 Mr. Gilliat bowed courteously ; princely, it seemed to Victor 
 Hurst. There was a fascination in watching the man. 
 
 "I plead guilty to the charge, but you cannot accuse me of 
 having grafted foreign manners on native birth." 
 
 " No^ you had it always, as a boy, I recollect. But the 
 world changes a little, Gilliat. " 
 
 "Does it?" with a good-humored smile. " For the worse 
 I think. Our race of noblemen and ladies is dying out Coarse 
 braggarts, with loud voices and manners that smack of trade, 
 are taking the place of the former, and blatant women, sharp 
 and shrill, prate of rights and wrongs and discuss subjects in 
 market-places that would not have been named among them 
 twenty years ago. " 
 
 "You judge from a few isolated cases, Gilliat. I think, in 
 spite of the great cry, that our women are as noble as ever. 
 That they prove themselves competent to fill high places is not 
 to their disfavor, in my view." 
 
 "There may be a few instances where they prove themselves 
 competent, but these are women of birth and breeding. But 
 this leaven coming up from the lower orders " 
 
 "Will leaven the whole lump. Is that what you are afraid 
 of? Let it come, I say. Let us have the strength, the 
 endurance, the vigor and health with the refinement of what 
 you call high birth. What is it after all but an accident ?" 
 
 " More than that, my friend. It is a life of culture, leisure, 
 surroundings that appeal to the noblest and most delicate 
 emotions of the human soul, a freedom from wearing cares 
 that debase the brain and render it coarse, stolid, from the gross 
 heat that makes the blood low and sluggish in a man's veins.
 
 i5o With Fate against Him. 
 
 And you can never raise your 'people' so high but that some 
 of the old desires will crop out." 
 
 "We have had many noble men, from the people, as you 
 call them. Poets, painters, statesmen, wise and efficient 
 rulers." 
 
 "And in how many cases can you trace the ambition back 
 to this birth that you so decry, poverty being the accident ?" 
 
 "Well then, let us make a bridge for these brave souls who 
 even dare to breast the broad stream of fate. Give them a 
 helping hand." 
 
 Gilliat shrugged his shoulders with infinite grace, and a 
 mocking smile played around his lips. 
 
 "For the few worthy you help who? The scum and re 
 fuse, the men and women who have their birthright for shops 
 and factories. It is a great mistake, Milnor, that men like 
 you with fine instincts think their duty lies in bringing up these 
 masses ; a mistake that you sensible reformers will one day rue 
 bitterly. Look how our country is flooded now. Every peri 
 odical teems with French socialism ; or worse, the right of the 
 lowest and vilest to cry down the noble and refined, the right 
 of the laborer to dictate to his employer, the servant to his 
 master. And yet you insist upon taking men out of shops, 
 making miserable daubs or maudlin poets of them. They 
 turn and rend you, of course." 
 
 Milnor smiled carelessly. Years ago he and Gilliat had sat 
 over their wine and discussed the same subject, yet through it 
 all they had preserved a peculiar friendship. 
 
 ' ' I have not been rent very often, " with an odd and rather 
 meaning intonation. 
 
 "Not personally, perhaps. Yet every year the disaffection 
 grows wider. It seems to me that all persons having the good 
 of society at heart, would join hands in preserving order, in 
 keeping the distinction clearly marked. There must be two 
 classes ;" and a little frown marked the broad, indolent look 
 ing brow.
 
 With Fate against Him. 1 5 1 
 
 "Never fear ; there will be dozens of classes while the world 
 stands. " 
 
 "That is just the difficulty no one in his right 
 place." 
 
 ' ' And if I can help some poor soul, astray by force of cir 
 cumstances, to find his right place, I shall still consider it my 
 duty ;" with a kind of graceful persistence. 
 
 " Forgetting your old friends thereby ?" 
 
 "Not forgetting them. You know me better than that." 
 
 "Indeed I do. Forgive me for longing to convert you 
 from the error of your ways. Look at it in a sensible light, 
 Milnor. When a poor man is content with his station, for 
 God's sake let him remain there. He will be as happy with 
 his wife and children, his simple wants and pleasures. When 
 you take him out of his sphere you give him a hundred crude, 
 impossible desires, heart-burnings, envyings, strifes. You 
 overtask an already wearied brain, and the result is a miserable 
 failure, a man ashamed to work, and incapable, yes, really 
 incapable of anything higher in the truest sense. It 'takes 
 generations of culture and refinement to make men." 
 
 Milnor answered with a quaint smile. He and his friend 
 had gone over this ground so often in the old days. 
 
 "Come, leave the young genius to work out his own salva 
 tion. If there is the true ring to his gold you will hear of it 
 sometime. Mrs. Gilliat will be delighted to see you you 
 have not met her since we were abroad. Mrs. Redmond is 
 with her you remember Margaret Randolph, surely ?" 
 
 "Yes;" absently, as if there were some old memory con 
 nected with it. " Redmond is dead, I have understood." 
 
 "Yes, long ago. It was a marriage little to the old man's 
 mind. He never forgave Margaret cordially, until aftr Red 
 mond's death. That occurred North, I believe." 
 
 "So your people of blue blood do go astray sometimes 1 " 
 with a peculiar smile. 
 
 "Redmond's family were well enough." rather testily,
 
 j52 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " But his father had run through with most of the property, 
 and Margaret might have done better." 
 
 "When do you go?" Milnor drew his watch out slowly 
 and glanced at it. 
 
 "In about half an hour. I brought Miss Redmond over 
 with us, she had a great fancy to see the crowd. You will 
 find her more entertaining than your genius, I dare say ; 
 especially if he is a protege of that foolish Miss Lowndes." 
 
 Victor Hurst had lain there listening to the soft flow of talk 
 as he listened to the thrush's warble in the clump of young 
 cedars, or the flow of the river where it fretted against a huge 
 boulder. There was in it no confidence that need trouble his 
 conscience, though the arguments had stung him now and 
 then, but only as the prick of a gnat. But to hear Miss 
 Lowndes mentioned 
 
 "I will compromise with you Gilliat ;" and Milnor started 
 up. "I will see if the young man can be found within the 
 next half hour. It cannot make much difference, as I shall 
 be in' Weareham in the course of a few weeks. I can see him 
 there." 
 
 Victor gnawed the scarlet lip, quivering with the heat of 
 sudden passion, and a frown knotted the fair brow. So Miss 
 Lowndes had been interesting this delicate, fastidious man in 
 his behalf, yet a few words from Gilliat had turned the current. 
 
 He leaned back on his mossy pillow, looking dully up 
 through the green breaks between him and the sky, where 
 the grains of sunlight were sifted through, and yet he 
 saw nothing. The slow, odorous air paused to play among 
 his bright locks, but he felt no grateful coolness, only proud, 
 reckless passion-heats. He experienced a strange and unac 
 countable antipathy to the very name of Gilliat, and he would 
 take nothing from the man's friend. 
 
 " Truant !" Miss Lowndes exclaimed, tapping his arm with 
 her fan when he sauntered into the little group nearly an hour 
 later, "where have you lingered ? A golden opportunity might
 
 With Fate against Him. 163 
 
 have dropped into your life, if you had but been here. I am 
 displeased with you." 
 
 ' ' And I sorry to have offended that is all. As for oppor 
 tunities " 
 
 "No, you shall not rail. Your face is full of lofty contempt, 
 but if you had seen Mr. Milnor. He is a very prince among 
 men, and I could not resist telling him your story. We 
 sought for you everywhere, he was so interested. And at 
 last he had to leave, he had promised to go with a friend." 
 
 "Perhaps it is as well. I should hardly be able to sustain 
 the interest you have created." 
 
 There was a sharpness in his voice that fell unpleasantly 
 upon Miss Lowndes' ear. She, woman-like, desired to have 
 her favors and generous offers appreciated, and she had taken 
 some pains to place the young man in his best light. Not 
 understanding the current which vexed and tormented his soul, 
 she could not make allowance. 
 
 She prided herself upon her penetration. It was her boast 
 among her friends that she only needed to see a person once 
 or twice to gauge his or her capabilities ; and, like all hasty 
 verdicts, hers were shallow and unreasoning. Still, circum 
 stances proved her right now and then, giving her more faith 
 in herself. 
 
 "You would be fortunate in making such a friend," and 
 her voice went up to a thin, shrill intonation, showing that she 
 was not pleased. But he was in no mood to heed it. 
 
 "1 believe I am not one of the fortunate kind," 
 dryly. 
 
 " Mr. Milnor is a man of means, and if he -took a fancy 
 to a person, or believed him really capable," worthy, she meant 
 to say, but the lowering cloud in his face prevented, for Miss 
 Lowndes could only be spiteful, not courageous, and just here 
 she did not dare, so she smoothed it over adroitly, " he would 
 do a great deal. I know of several whom he has helped 
 educate." 
 
 7*
 
 1 54 With Fate against Him. 
 
 He was in no mood for obligation just then ; even her fool 
 ish patronage irked him. And that she should have begged 
 assistance for him ! 
 
 So he vexed her with his ungraciousness. The music lost 
 its charm, and the endless rambling around became tiresome. 
 He was glad to have the day over at last, and find himself 
 just after sunset, walking up through the little garden, full of 
 fragrant bloom. 
 
 His mother met him at the porch. A strange, lowly light 
 shone in her tranquil face, as if in her soul the sun had not 
 gone down. 
 
 "Have you had a pleasant day?" clasping the hot, throb 
 bing palm in hers, and looking through the poor, thin smile, 
 to the discontent beyond, a little pained and startled. 
 
 "No ! but it was my fault. I sometimes think I had better 
 go back to the shop and stay there. I am morose, unsocial, 
 full of whims and fancies, and the shallow talk of the women 
 bores me intolerably." 
 
 Something beyond that, she saw. How had he come by 
 this sore, over-sensitive soul, that was so easily jostled about 
 right and left ? And not being able to solve that, she said, 
 softly 
 
 " He is better : clothed in his right mind, and remembers a 
 good deal of the past. And he has asked for you. " 
 
 Victor glanced at her with searching eyes. 
 
 "Our secret is still in our own hands," she continued, with 
 a great tremble in her voice. 
 
 ' ' There let it remain ;" and stooping, he kissed her, trying 
 to thrust the foul, hungry discontent out of sight. For, until 
 his duty came to an end here, he had no right to aught be 
 yond. 
 
 "Will you see him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The room was in a flush of golden and purple twilight. 
 John Hurst lay there with a face full of childlike content,
 
 With Fate against Him. i55 
 
 though the expression seemed to waver a little, like a dying 
 flame groping among ashes for some sustenance. Yet to 
 the eyes had returned a faint glow of the spiritual, of softer 
 light than had shone in them for many a day ; a kind of rest 
 and satisfaction, as if, having seen heaven opened, he was con 
 tent to feast by faith, for the present. In place of the grayness 
 had come a pure transparency to the wrinkled skin, and the 
 blue-veined, bony hands were soft as.an infant's. 
 
 He glanced up wistfully as Victor entered. The young man 
 walked straight to the bedside. Whatever of vexation and 
 wounded pride had tossed and tried him sorely was not visi 
 ble now. 
 
 "Father," softly, taking the withered hand. 
 
 "My son." The voice was vague and tremulous, as if not 
 quite certain of its own sound. " It has been a long while " 
 
 "But you are better now," soothingly. 
 
 "Yes only," with a look of piteous, entreating pathos, 
 "I shall never be well again, never. God's hand has been 
 laid heavily upon me. In my old age He has taken health and 
 strength, and left me helplessness. Wherein have I so offended 
 Him ?" 
 
 "It is not that, I think," longing to comfort, and yet feel 
 ing the utter emptiness of soul which comes of unbelief. 
 
 "Yet He has left me something out of the wreck," glanc 
 ing at his wife, who stood by the window opposite, the faint 
 light making an aureola on the top of her soft hair.' 
 
 "And a son as well." 
 
 Victor knelt by the bedside. The trembling hands were 
 folded over his head. 
 
 "A son," the fluttering voice said. "A son. Thank Him, 
 my soul." 
 
 And then Victor knew what manner of doubt had been 
 wandering through the feeble mind. 
 
 His mother wiped away a few stray tears, and breathed a 
 little prayer of thankfulness.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " IT is better to tell .the truth, Miss Lowndes, therefore 
 candor compels me to state that I see no real evidence of 
 genius in the works of your friend. They are faulty in design, 
 weak in execution, and lack even a nice eye for detail. A man 
 must do one of two things either copy nature with rare 
 fidelity, or branch boldly out in untried ways and present the 
 weird and strange to us with such force that we are compelled 
 to believe in his power, even against our will, sometimes." 
 
 Mr. Milnor had been inspecting the portfolio with 
 scholarly eyes, trained by fine habits of thought, study, and 
 experience. With all this he was a very merciful critic wher 
 ever he saw a shadow of merit, as Miss Lowndes well knew. 
 
 " But he is so young yet, and has studied such a very little. 
 His best sketches are not here. He has several heads that I 
 think are are " 
 
 "Rubbish ! as I've said all along," interrupted Alfred, im 
 patiently. " He has done some rough things that may 
 possibly indicate a kind of brutal strength, but not that out of 
 which artists are made." 
 
 Alfred Lowndes had risen immensely in his own estimation 
 in the course of the last ten days ; and it had come from a 
 trifle heretofore rather discouraging. A picture of his, pretty 
 enough so far as neatness, order, and naturalness went, had 
 been put in chromo without attracting very much attention for 
 the past three months, and suddenly blazed into notoriety. 
 Orders were pouring in, and for a few days his studio had been 
 thronged. In -the excitement his old pictures had been dis 
 posed of advantageously. Then a friend of his, lately come
 
 With Fate against Him. i5/ 
 
 into possession of a moderate legacy, had proposed to buy out 
 the place and set up photography himself. 
 
 Whatever may have been the faults of "a Summer After 
 noon," in oil, it made a charming chromo. The vague sug 
 gestive coolness happened to touch some critic's heart on a 
 fiery August day, and the plodding fellow, with whom perse 
 verance was the best virtue, took a long stride up the steep hill 
 of fame. But, instead of being generous, he looked disdain 
 fully down on his struggling fellow-mortals. 
 
 " I'm sure, Alfred " 
 
 "My sister, like women in general, took a great fancy to 
 him on account of his handsome face, though I never could 
 see the beauty of mere animalism." 
 
 " It wasn't that, though you will admit at last that he is 
 handsome," rather triumphantly. 
 
 "If Greek brigands of the most impossible type were in my 
 line, I should ask him to sit." 
 
 Milnor laughed. He had done one or two small favors for 
 Miss Lowndes in years gone by, and her gratitude being of the 
 profuse and sentimental order, she had never forgotten it. He 
 was one of those sweet-humored, sympathetic men who always 
 look at a person on his or her best side, and manage to see 
 virtues where the rest of the world are blind. So, to make up 
 for Miss Lowndes' great disappointment, he had promised to 
 visit her brother's studio, inventing some business on the spur 
 of the moment to call him to Weareham. 
 
 ' ' How did you first meet with this hero of yours ?" and he 
 looked from one to the other. 
 
 " He used to come in and study the pictures. I'll give the 
 fellow credit for good taste, and a love for art ; but that isn't 
 eTerything. " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And then he begged me to give him a few lessons. He's 
 had one a week ; but even now he can hardly tell one color 
 from another."
 
 1 58 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ' ' It's such a little while. Look how long you were, Alfred, 
 before you painted anything." 
 
 " It is not much, but he has been practising a long while, it 
 seems, and he can't even make a correct outline. Then he 
 has no patience." 
 
 For now Alfred Lowndes, after the fashion of many others in 
 success, would rather push down than help up the weak, cling 
 ing steps. But he never had been very enthusiastic over his 
 pupil. 
 
 " You mentioned, I think, that he was employed at some 
 thing ?" 
 
 "He is a machinist," said Lowndes, coarsely; "he knows 
 more about welding steel than mixing colors." 
 
 ' ' But I'm sure that ought not to be used to his disadvan 
 tage," Miss Lowndes remarked, pathetically. " It shows that 
 there is something in the man's soul, when he desires to leave 
 behind the distasteful life." 
 
 "Simply because it is distasteful?" queried Mr. Milnor. 
 "There is a good deal of morbid theorizing on this subject 
 now-a-days. " 
 
 "The man is a good mechanic and can earn his four 
 dollars a day. I've seen the time when I'd been glad to get 
 it. I shall tell him when he comes to-morrow that painting, 
 clearly, is not his vocation." 
 
 " I should advise him to pursue some other walk in life," 
 Milnor rejoined, slowly. " What about his education ? His 
 father was a clergyman, I think you said ?" 
 
 "A kind of missionary to the lower orders," with as much 
 disgust as Alfred Lowndes could put in a tone. "I guess he 
 had not much chance for education." 
 
 Foolish and pretentious as Marcia Lowndes was, there was 
 much more real delicacy in her than in her brother ; but perhaps 
 they both seemed coarse and commonplace, by comparison, 
 with the circle out of which Milnor chose his acquaintances, 
 or even his protege's. And now he thought of this poor clergy-
 
 With Fate against Hi;;i. 1 5 9 
 
 man's son, too indolent perhaps to study, but clinging to a 
 false and sickly ambition. Better leave him in his place, as 
 Gilliat had said. 
 
 "I believe you are right, Mr. Lowndes ; I do not think the 
 man will ever make an artist." 
 
 "You see, Marcia," nodding his head triumphantly. 
 
 Marcia was utterly humiliated. She would not have taken 
 her rebuff so meekly but that she had a growing consciousness 
 that her brother was fast merging into a great man, and 
 instead of being the leading spirit, she must drop into the 
 secondary place provided for all women when their work is 
 done. He would want little advice, or counsel, or encourage 
 ment from her, since his world had grown so much larger. 
 And the poor woman sighed. 
 
 But Mr. Milnor tried to comfort her by walking home with 
 her and partaking of some cake and currant wine. She hated 
 to give up her protege, but Mr. Milnor placed it in a strong, 
 sensible light. 
 
 "He may never be able to do anything really worth the 
 effort, and it will only add another to the list of dissatisfied 
 people, with whom the world already teems. I think your 
 brother is right, Miss Lowndes." 
 
 If she only dared she would like to have said : " He has 
 more real genius than Alfred ;" but she was afraid to go against 
 the world's opinion. 
 
 Mr. Milnor was puzzling his brains over a problem he could 
 not solve satisfactorily : how had these two people, with a very 
 small modicum of talent in the beginning, succeeded in gain 
 ing such a foothold in the world's esteem ? And so he lost 
 sight of Victor Hurst altogether. 
 
 Alfred Lowndes was well primed for his opinion the next 
 day. Victor listened attentively. 
 
 "I had decided the case for myself, Mr. Lowndes," he 
 replied, quietly, quite in contrast with the other's pompous 
 manner. "I have not the genius for a painter. Still, I
 
 160 With Fate against Him. 
 
 do not regret the practice. I have learned some useful 
 lessons. " 
 
 He gathered the outlines and sketches, and replaced them in 
 his portfolio, scarcely appearing surprised or disappointed. 
 
 " The fellow has no nerves at all, no sensitiveness," thought 
 Alfred Lowndes, who looked for an outburst. 
 
 "And yourself do you feel amply repaid for your 
 trouble?" 
 
 "Why yes," in slow amaze. 
 
 "Then all obligation is ended. Remember me kindly to 
 your sister." 
 
 "You'll drop in before we go?" with sudden cordiality. 
 " My sister will want to say good-bye. We shall leave for New 
 York in about a fortnight." 
 
 "If it is possible." 
 
 So they bade each other farewell in a courteous manner. 
 Victor's self-control never relaxed as he walked down the street. 
 He understood his place now with a desperate, wronged feel 
 ing. And yet his aim had been good and high. To raise 
 himself to the level of refinement and culture for which his 
 soul longed, for which he might be fitted so easily, it seemed 
 to him. 
 
 But there he was in the gulf, with the curse of manual 
 labor upon him, the brand of a slave. Ah, no wonder the 
 old Romans were proud and esteemed their blood sacred. 
 Society said because this man holding a father's place read 
 your young life wrongly, mistook the germs of a noble 
 ambition for foolish pride, and stained your hands with toil, 
 there you must stay. Norcross, Baxter, that clean-blooded 
 aristocrat Gilliat, and even these narrow-brained Lowndeses, 
 concur in the same thing. Stay where you are, no matter how 
 distasteful it may be. Crush out those aspirations you have 
 no business with them. Money and leisure only can afford 
 them. 
 
 He took the pictures up to his room and thrust them into
 
 With Fate against Him. 161 
 
 an old chest stored with rubbish. Some day he would make a 
 bonfire of them, but he was too sad and sore now, and for his 
 mother's sake he must keep brave. But he said that evening 
 
 "Mr. Lowndes and his sister are going abroad next month." 
 
 Anah Hurst started in secret dismay. 
 
 " He has been very successful with a picture. I suppose he 
 has genius. It is making itself felt and appreciated." 
 
 "And you ?" with a kind of agonized apprehension. 
 
 "I shall rest awhile." 
 
 But his tone could not deceive her. She came over to his 
 side and placed her hand nervously upon his shoulder. 
 
 "You have given up all, Victor," with a faltering strand in 
 the sad voice. 
 
 "Not all, but that. Nay," taking the hand with which she 
 was wont to shade her eyes lest the tears might spring too 
 quickly, "I have convinced myself that I had no gift for it. 
 So let it go." 
 
 There was a fierce pang at her heart, a thousand tortures in 
 one, keener because she could not bear them all for her child. 
 And with it a touch of superstition she always bethought 
 herself of some Scriptural parallel, and now the plagues of 
 Pharaoh floated through her brain. Was it because she did 
 not let her bondman go out of the land of Egypt ? 
 
 Victor felt as if he had been worsted in the battle, pushed 
 to the wall without a fair chance. In the depths of his 
 soul there was as much genius as in Alfred Lowndes' narrow, 
 conceited brain. But if he could not give it a voice ? 
 
 Was there nothing for a man to do in the world except 
 work and eat ? Why had he been born, then, with this rest 
 less, hungry soul ? Did God give these higher instincts for 
 some wise purpose, not manifest in his case ? or was the 
 whole theory some far-fetched interpretation of the schoolmen 
 to keep the world in order ? since in the case of poverty they 
 were to be stamped out, or considered the result of sickly 
 sentimentalism.
 
 1 62 With Fate against Him. 
 
 The men who did not understand the kind of battle he had 
 been fighting, watched him with suspicious eyes, resolving at 
 last to make him take sides. If he was above them, let him 
 find his higher level. 
 
 Two or three of them stopped him one evening. Connor 
 was spokesman. 
 
 "Don't b'long to the Union, Hurst?" glancing furtively 
 from under the shaggy brows. 
 
 "The Union ?" vaguely. 
 
 "Trades, you know." 
 
 "No." 
 
 Victor Hurst felt that there was a radical difference between 
 himself and this man. Would he, when he had worked 
 thirty years, be that stolid and blear-eyed ? 
 
 ' ' What'll you do about it ? All in this shop are on the 
 right side. There's a talk of cuttin' down wages." 
 
 For any principle involved, Victor Hurst would have let 
 them go. But the subject of wages came nearer home. If 
 a workman had no right to raise himself in the social scale, 
 he had a right to make all the money he could. 
 
 This group of men had taken what they termed his "airs" 
 long enough, they thought. An apprentice onty'a few months 
 ago, why should he put on a dignity and stateliness that they 
 would hardly have tolerated in Baxter ? The main idea was 
 to get him out of the shop. 
 
 Fate had sent him over to this side of the question, which, 
 like many important matters, was -settled more by existing 
 circumstances than principle, or even desire. He disliked 
 everything connected with this sphere of life as strongly as on 
 the day of his first outbreak; but then he thought he had only 
 to take one decisive step out of it, now he saw the many 
 fine, strong chains that bound him hand and foot. 
 
 "I'm on the side of the wages," he said, briefly. "If 
 Unions serve to keep them up " 
 
 "We'd never got what we have without 'em," one of. the
 
 
 With Fate against Him. 163 
 
 group made answer. "Every man oughter stick to his side, 
 I say." 
 
 "And my side is the trade," with a bitter, derisive 
 smile. 
 
 The men glanced at each other. The manner was not cor 
 dial, but the matter, if it went for them, was hardly to be 
 disputed. 
 
 "You're on the trade's side?" cautiously, eyeing him with a 
 furtive gleam of suspicion. 
 
 " Yes !" with a sharp ring in the voice, as if by that he ham 
 mered some delicate longing out of sight into a thousand frag 
 ments. "What do you want of me? Where shall I join?" 
 
 Connor was completely taken aback. Not being able to 
 read the man's soul in the clear-cut, scornful face, he laid his 
 brawny hand on Hurst's shoulder. 
 
 "Good grit at the last !" in sudden admiration. " I've been 
 a little afeard o' you, youngster. Boys now-a-days take such 
 high and mighty notions in their heads ; and knowing that a 
 little of the parson's blood was in your veins " 
 
 " Parson never was proud." 
 
 1 ' No matter about my blood, " with a bright, scarlet spot on 
 each cheek, and a quiver of the lip that their dull eyes could 
 not discern. "If .you want my hand on the union, there 
 it is." 
 
 He had been thrust over the narrow boundary, he said to 
 himself, and fate forced him into the step. These men 
 always made a great outcry about their wives and children 
 starving. He had a helpless father. 
 
 " Good for you, Hurst. I wouldn't hardly a' believed it ; and 
 you such a fine gentleman, like." 
 
 Victor experienced a qualm of disgust, and an almost irre 
 pressible desire to shake off the contact of those grimy fingers 
 Were his own any better ? 
 
 "When and where do you hold your meeting?" 
 "There'll be one to-morrow night Croft's Hall."
 
 1 64 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " I know the place. I will be there." 
 
 The men stood and gazed after him as he strode down the 
 street. 
 
 "You didn't get him out, Connor," with a rather irritating 
 laugh. 
 
 Connor rubbed his eyes in amazement. What inexplicable 
 change had come over trie fellow ? 
 
 " He's a chap that's hard to understand," shaking his head 
 in a puzzled manner. "Now I'd a' said he'd be just the one 
 to flare up and make a row. He's game, though, when you 
 come to that. Carries it in his walk. " 
 
 "And tricky, too, maybe." 
 
 "We'll see." 
 
 Opinion ran so high that two or three bets were made. 
 Victor settled all doubts by appearing promptly, paying his 
 initiation fee, and subscribing to the rules and regulations. 
 Then he listened to a lengthy and rather disorderly discussion 
 upon the necessity of keeping up wages, the rights of workmen, 
 and a kind of confused jumble that he could not render at all 
 intelligible to his senses or judgment. One thing only he felt 
 he was committed to this side, and if he ever struck any blow, 
 it would be against his oppressor as well as theirs the tyrant 
 wealth, capital they termed it. 
 
 To a great, hungry, untrained soul, some excitement was 
 necessary. He had not the stimulus of intellectual life, and 
 the lower estate was little to his taste. As a gentleman, he 
 might have luxuriated upon elegant wines ; but the low drink 
 ing and gambling-saloons were abominations. There were 
 reading-rooms and libraries, one on the religious order, which he 
 at this period deliberately eschewed. He had not made up his 
 mind fully uppn the subject, and until he did, with the un 
 reason of youth, he would not allow himself to be biased in 
 its favor. It was well enough, perhaps, and yet, wherein had 
 his father been the gainer ? Old, helpless, poor, and neglected, 
 save by the few to whom he had endeared himself in some
 
 With Fate against Hint. i65 
 
 great strait like that of death. Where was the love and tender 
 ness of Christianity ? 
 
 It is so easy to doubt to rail. When Victor Hurst began to 
 look about him and see that it was not truth which always suc 
 ceeded, but rather falsehood ; that the purple, fine linen, and 
 ease often passed through the world unscathed, while honest^, 
 poverty was the Lazarus at the gate, refused even the crumbs in 
 many instances, despised, and thrust out to perish or to sin. 
 And then came the appalling fact that it was the poor who 
 rilled the jails and almshouses, the poor from wretched homes 
 that thronged the vile resorts and drank poisonous liquors. 
 
 There were older and wiser men who beat their heads against 
 the same rock wages. Victor, hearing the outcry, joined it 
 with an intemperate zeal. But here were all the statistics. 
 Rents, provision, clothes, were high, and now, in the winter, 
 was added the increased price of fuel. In the face of this, 
 employers talked of reducing wages. 
 
 There was another side to the story. Of improvidence 
 Victor Hurst knew but little : Mrs. Hurst had been a thrifty 
 manager all her life, from the day her father had handed his 
 small income, that ended with his death, over into her keep 
 ing. She had managed on the missionary's scanty salary, and 
 now Victor's money was expended as frugally. But there had 
 been many sacrifices and small economies that those with fewer 
 nice instincts would have been hardly willing to try. The 
 extravagant Sunday meal the poor man's holiday feast ; the 
 frequent sicknesses, when ignorant mothers, knowing noth 
 ing concerning the bodies they had given their children, 
 ran in frantic haste for the nearest doctor, and lavished their 
 husbands' money on expensive drugs ; the general careless 
 management, indolence, and waste, could hardly be taken into 
 account by so young and inexperienced a philosopher. He 
 was caught by the old cry money, education, pleasant and 
 popular places of resort, more leisure, and the general lifting 
 up of this lower stratum of society.
 
 1 66 With Fate against Him. 
 
 That there are many wrongs, one must admit. But while 
 men prefer to sip bad whiskey, to smoke until their brains are 
 stupefied, and amuse themselves with greasy bits of painted 
 pasteboard, or rehearse coarse stories, while opposite, the read 
 ing-room languishes, it is not merely from lack of opportunity, 
 but something deeper underlying it all, that not money alone 
 can cure. If men and women in high places ever come to 
 understand the deeper significance of the Saviour's new com 
 mandment ; but hearts grow weary after a trial of eighteen 
 hundred years. 
 
 The autumn was raw and cold, with frequent storms, and 
 winter set in early. As if in some spirit of secret unison with 
 the depression of nature, trade began to languish, and with 
 scarcity of work came the dreaded decrease in wages. 
 
 But the Unions in Weareham were strong and powerful, as 
 in the most of purely manufacturing towns. There were 
 strikes, and processions, and violent harangues in halls and 
 market-places, to say nothing of beer-shops, always the loudest 
 mouthed. Idle men hung at the corners, thoughtful men 
 walked slowly about studying the pavement and their own 
 apprehensions, while the restless and discontented added their 
 mite to the general dissatisfaction. 
 
 Here, as in many other places, the trades had conquered, and 
 were thereby strengthened and elated. But this was an inaus 
 picious season. Orders were falling off, employers felt the 
 necessity of economy and retrenchment, and, as usual, began it 
 with their men. 
 
 Oddly enough, Victor Hurst became a leader in the disaf 
 fection. His own fancied wrongs still rankled in his soul, 
 and the vengeful determination- to strike blow for blow was 
 strong within him. One and another had found his place for 
 him ; so he would take it now, and from this standing-point 
 make them feel the power of the man they were so ready to 
 discard from their ranks. 
 
 He was a fluent and fiery speaker, the thing to take with
 
 With Fate against Him. 167 
 
 unreasoning masses. He dealt powerful thrusts right and left, 
 exhorted the men to stand to their principles, to resist these 
 high-handed outrages on human rights. Let the rich make 
 sacrifices as well. Did they give up their horses and carriages, 
 their costly dinners and expensive wines, their balls and operas, 
 their elegant houses, and silks and diamonds ? Rather they 
 ground it out of the poor man. It was he who starved and 
 felt the pinching blasts beside fireless hearths. It was his wife 
 and children who went clothed in rags, while the others flaunted 
 in satin and velvets. 
 
 But when actual starvation came, when the funds of associa 
 tions reached the lowest ebb, when shops were closed and 
 employers still stood firm, some of these men with wives and 
 children studied over the old adage, and began to think "half 
 a loaf better than none." Capital had the advantage this time, 
 and labor crouched for the next blow, when its stomach was 
 fuller.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 So one night Victor Hurst sat by the fire, a beaten, misera 
 ble, discouraged man. All his fine philosophies about raising 
 his brethren had come to an ignoble end. 
 
 Worse than that for him. When Norcoss opened his works 
 again, in the latter part of January, he said to his foreman, 
 throwing down a printed list 
 
 "There are the prices of this place. If any man chooses to 
 work for that, I'll take him on ; and I guess some will be 
 starved to it. Any how, there are a few new hands from the 
 neighboring towns to begin with. They will find that we are 
 not to be overruled by their cheap and noisy fustian. But 
 there are several exceptions. Powers, Hurst, and Connor, I 
 won't have at any price. They'll find the town too hot to hold 
 them, I'm thinking. A bad lot ! I expected better things of 
 Hurst." 
 
 "He always was a queer fellow," replied the foreman, 
 gravely; "though the last one I should have said to take 
 sides with such men as Connor." 
 
 "Tainted with French socialism. Those fellows ought to 
 found a community, eh, Baxter? and have all things in com 
 mon. Poor devils ! Do they think that they can pull down 
 social fabrics which existed before they were born, and will stand 
 until the world is old and gray ?" 
 
 Mr. Norcross gave a hearty, cheery laugh. He was well 
 pleased at belonging to the victorious side. And though he 
 had groaned a good deal about ruin, he still wore his elegant 
 diamond pin, kept his fast horses, ate good dinners, and 
 smoked expensive cigars.
 
 With Fate against Him. 169 
 
 "You'll take back the others?" 
 
 "Yes. It is only the ringleaders. We have resolved to 
 extinguish them," with a pompous inflection on the "We," 
 that spoke volumes. 
 
 "It is a pity that men have so little sense. They were all 
 good workmen." 
 
 "They have had their frolic, now let them pay the piper." 
 
 The leaders found themselves marked men. A few left the 
 town, breathing threats of vengeance. Connor, an unsteady 
 man at the best, hung around low groggeries, while his wife 
 went out washing and his children to the factories; but Victor 
 Hurst had as yet taken no decisive step. 
 
 Going away seemed almost impossible ; for when it came to 
 that, a strong man was needed in the house. John Hurst was 
 better, and might live years ; but he had to be carried to 
 and fro like a child. It was hardly possible for him ever to 
 recover the use of his lower limbs, and a slender woman like 
 Anah could not manage him. 
 
 They had been poor many a time before. The prayer for 
 daily bread proved no fanciful petition to the open-handed, 
 self-denying clergyman. But there had always been a hope 
 of something, a clinging to the provision made for the ravens 
 when they cry, to the all-enduring promises of God ; yet with 
 her morbid conscientiousness she hardly knew whether to pray 
 or to accept meekly and silently the punishment for sin. 
 
 She sat, knitting. It was her fancy never to be unemployed. 
 But as she went through the continuous round of stitches, she 
 watched her moody and dispirited son. 
 
 It seemed, somehow, as if she was answerable for the wreck 
 of his life. She had failed in some important duty or trust : 
 been weak, when she should have been firm. With the capa 
 bility of self-torture, found in so many women, she invented 
 rack and scourge in endless questioning, and submitted 
 patiently to the pain. 
 
 " Will you go this evening?" she asked, at length, in a slow, 
 8
 
 170 With Fate against Him. 
 
 hesitating tone, stirring the fire, glad to break the monot 
 ony of the last half-hour. 
 
 "I don't think I can, mother," in an unsteady tone, twitch 
 ing nervously at his steel watch-chain. 
 
 "Victor "her tone was lower and slower, "I spent our 
 last dollar to-day." 
 
 "I cannot beg of them. They would preach me a sermon 
 and send me away empty-handed." 
 
 "It is a just debt;" a rising color fluttering over her pale 
 face. ' ' The laborer is worthy of his hire. I always believed 
 that." 
 
 " But he doesn't get it in spiritual any more than in carnal 
 matters. It is the princes who feast and the laborers who 
 starve, the world over. I wonder if there is a God to watch it 
 all ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes imploringly. 
 
 " Here is my father, who, like some of the men of old, gave 
 up everything for his religion. Has God restored tenfold? 
 Even his brethren conspire to wrong him out of a paltry sum 
 that was earned by the hardest " 
 
 " No, you misjudge them. It has been neglect only. I dare 
 say they think it is all paid." 
 
 "They have had opportunities to go over their books in the 
 course of the last eight months, one would imagine." 
 
 "They sent part, you know ;" in a voice of gentle excuse. 
 
 It was the old question of the salary that had never been 
 wholly paid. 
 
 "No," he said, crushing down some rising bitterness, "I 
 can't ask them for it, I'd rather starve. But for you and him " 
 
 "It is his just due." 
 
 "Well, I'm in bad repute here, at Weareham. I've been 
 thinking that I shall have to go after all. Ever}' shop is barred 
 against me. I can get work elsewhere, I know ; and if a good 
 strong woman could be found " 
 
 She rose and went to the window. It was dark and lower-
 
 Wit /i Fate against Him. 171 
 
 ing without : not a star visible, and bitter blasts moaning up 
 and down, like forlorn ghosts. If she dared to go over to the 
 trustee-meeting and ask for this pittance fifty odd dollars it 
 would keep them a month longer, give her her son that while, 
 and something might happen. 
 
 But it was a long, lonesome walk, and suddenly she felt 
 weak as if deserted by both God and man. 
 
 "Yes," he went on huskily, "we may as well look the 
 matter in the face. The luck is all against me here. I will 
 go somewhere and take a fresh start at anything that offers. I 
 will not set up for a genius or a philanthropist," with a fierce, 
 scornful smile that was very sad in its desperation. "I'll make 
 a new home and come for you then, for I shall never, never 
 part with you." 
 
 She came back to the fire, and standing behind him, clasped 
 her arms around his neck. "God help me to give up this 
 idol," she prayed inwardly, "this sin of Achan in the camp." 
 
 "As you will," she returned, humbly. 
 
 " It will not be for long '' hopefully. 
 
 And yet he knew that business was dull everywhere, and 
 that a stranger's chance was a slender one at best. 
 
 " I will see that you have credit while I am gone. And if 
 some one could help you care for him until " 
 
 He felt the tear dropping on his cheek. With that he drew 
 the head down and kissed the wet eyelids, and for many mo 
 ments neither spoke. 
 
 For their lives had come to such a dreary, desperate pass. 
 He desiring to do the best had fallen upon the worst ; and yet 
 had there not been foul selfishness within ? 
 
 The wind swept up without in broad gusts. Even the fire 
 seemed to burn dully. 
 
 They paid little heed to the carriage going past over the 
 frozen ground, making hollow echoes, nor even noticed that 
 the h'orses were stopped, and voices raised rather high in con 
 versation.
 
 172 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Then some one strode up the path, and feet were vigorously 
 stamped on the stone beyond the porch a habit with Janet 
 McRae, and not any disdainful shaking off of the dust. 
 
 Anah Hurst started, wiped her eyes with the corner of her 
 apron, and trembled at the authoritative knock. Victor an 
 swered it, leaving his mother standing in the middle of the 
 floor. 
 
 "Does the Reverend John Hurst reside here?" 
 
 The tone was so fresh and breezy, that it was like a waft of 
 some inspiriting mountain air. 
 
 ' ' Yes ;" and Victor ushered in two persons, tall and well 
 enveloped in winter travelling-gear, but faces that he had never 
 seen before. 
 
 "And is this Anah Hurst ? I think I should know the face, 
 although you're worn and thin. But you've forgotten me 
 Janet McRae. I was at your father's house once before you 
 were married." 
 
 Three and twenty years ago. She remembered now some 
 distant cousins. 
 
 " And this is my friend Doctor Trewartha." 
 
 Anah Hurst blushed and stammered in her amazement, like 
 any girl. 
 
 "I suppose it is a great surprise. No doubt I ought to 
 have come long ago ; but to tell the truth, I was a little vexed 
 with your father the last time I saw him. I was quite willing 
 to take you ; for, if you remember, Sandy and I never had any 
 children, but your father kept up a stubborn old feud with our 
 branch of the McRaes. A whimsical old fellow, with nothing 
 Scotch about him save that. And so I've come at last, after 
 discouragements that would have daunted any other woman. 
 A few miles below the town there must be a misplaced switch, 
 and from its effects we stood on the road good two hours, 
 "waiting for them to clear away the debris." 
 
 She paused then to take breath. Victor glanced at her in 
 astonishment. A woman past sixty, but with a fresh, fair look,
 
 With Fate against Him. 173 
 
 as if she would never be quite done with youth. Nearly as tall 
 as her companion, but erect as any stately pine : her blue eyes 
 still sharp and bright, her face unwrinkled, the mouth shutting 
 firmly over sound white teeth, the lips full and rosy. Not a 
 particularly handsome woman, with the large features, square 
 jaw, and high cheek-bones ; but remarkable for her vigor, 
 wholesomeness, and buoyant energy. 
 
 "Yes, you were married, and your father died. I heard of 
 that," nodding her head and approaching the fire where Victor 
 had placed two chairs. "You've gone your way and I've gone 
 mine ; but I think it would have been better if your father had 
 listened to me ;" sharply, holding her head loftily as she sat 
 down. 
 
 " Well, we are the last of the family now, so it is best to let 
 by-gones be by-gones. I am an old woman, and you are not 
 as young as you were twenty years ago. This is your son ?" 
 
 "This is my son Victor." 
 
 In spite of all she had to remember, she uttered the words 
 with a little pride. 
 
 "I have had no children." And Anah Hurst guessed the 
 pain that came in the strong woman's heart. "Perhaps it is 
 as well. They bring care and trouble from the hour of their 
 birth. There's not much of the old blood in him you and 
 your father were famous for mixing it. I should say there was 
 more Saxon than Scotch about him ; but he is a fine, well- 
 grown lad. I need hardly tell you, Doctor Trewartha, after 
 having been so remiss, that this is Mrs. Hurst and her son." 
 
 Trewartha rubbed his hands together in the glow of the fire 
 light. A manly man, strong, healthy, heartsome, with none 
 of the city nervousness and anxiety about him a man used to 
 good cheer and generous thoughts. The evident air of pros 
 perity struck Victor in a very vivid fashion. 
 
 Janet McRae must needs tell all her own story first. 
 
 " So I asked Doctor Trewartha, who is my right-hand man 
 for Mr. McRae died fifteen years ago, as you heard, doubt-
 
 1 74 With Fate against Him. 
 
 less, at the time ; you were living at Northfield then to come 
 and help me hunt you up, being the last of k'" We should 
 have been here by mid-afternoon but for the mishaps on the 
 road. I dare say you are much surprised ; but when I take a 
 whim in my head I follow it out, sharp. I never yet saw the 
 use of sitting a month or two in private contemplation as to 
 which foot you should put forward first. And now, Anah Hurst, 
 if you're satisfied to take up acquaintance with an old kins 
 woman, give me your hand." 
 
 Anah responded gratefully. The strength and cheerful 
 voice seemed to revivify her. 
 
 "A very bird's claw," she said, pressing the thin fingers. 
 "You need mountain air, and good, wholesome food. You've 
 been in trouble, I hear ?" dropping her voice a trifle. 
 
 Anah Hurst had a vague, confused feeling, like some shy, 
 prisoned creature, whose cage-doors are opened, and who sees 
 endless vistas of green fields beyond. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, with a sigh, turning her eyes away 
 from the too glowing vision. 
 
 "Mr. Hurst is still alive?" 
 
 "A little better, we think." 
 
 "His attack was paralysis ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Over- work and meagre diet, I suppose. Clergymen have 
 no right to be poor !" in a vigorous, almost scornful tone. 
 
 "If the world makes them so?" And Victor Hurst turned 
 his clear-cut face around suddenly. 
 
 "Being poor, they have no business with preaching and the 
 like. The world has too much of it already. People want 
 work and bread instead of sermons." 
 
 "But they die at last," said Doctor Trewartha. 
 
 "Yes, I know!" with a fierce nod. "But T doubt the 
 death-bed glorifying when a man has been a thief, and a liar, 
 and a drunkard. They need to be taught how to live, how to 
 take care of their souls and bodies. God will watch over the rest."
 
 With Fate against Him. 176 
 
 Trewartha drew his chair nearer Victor when he saw the 
 young man's ^nitted brow. It would not do to have a quarrel 
 in the very beginning ; and knowing Janet McRae so well, he 
 was anxious that these people should be better acquainted with 
 her before they judged. 
 
 " How long has your father been ill ?" he asked. 
 
 "Eight months," briefly. 
 
 "There has been some change, of course ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' What were the particulars of the first seizure ?" 
 
 Victor began to think, and the talk of the woman floated out 
 of his brain. Something in Trewartha interested him strangely. 
 
 Mrs. McRae plied Anah with questions. She had heard that 
 Mr. Hurst was quite well-to-do before he took up preaching 
 for many years she had lost sight of them altogether. Where 
 had they lived ? what had they done ? 
 
 Anah made her story as short as possible. She was a 
 reticent woman by nature, and there was a good deal of the 
 old pride left in her, in spite of the daily warfare. After all, 
 how much does religion change human nature? 
 
 " You've had only the one child ?" drawing her chair nearer 
 to Anah, and speaking in a low tone. 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 "And you have known little about managing him, I take it. 
 I saw his name in the Trades' riots," dropping her voice to a 
 whisper. "As if bread wasn't more to starving men than all 
 your fine speeches and principles." 
 
 "He went astray," Anah said, with a face of deepening 
 pain. 
 
 " He knew nothing of the business, of the rights and 
 wrongs," she returned, sharply. "And yet he showed spirit, 
 energy. He is in the wrong place, Anah Hurst." 
 
 " I know it, I know it," piteously. 
 
 " It was the old war upon wind-mills. Men never learn 
 anything by experience women either, for that matter. When
 
 176 With Fate against Him. 
 
 times are dull wages will be low. The law of supply and 
 demand regulates these things. So it was foolhardy in him to 
 lead a movement at that time. But he doesn't look as if he 
 belonged to the rabble. Is it the Hurst blood ?" 
 
 Anah flushed distressfully. 
 
 " We'll talk it all over some day. I have a good deal to say 
 to you, and I know that I have dropped down upon you most 
 unceremoniously. But I declared this morning that I wouldn't 
 rest until I'd seen you, and I would take as much pains to 
 keep truth with myself as any other person. Then I cannot 
 bear to be crossed and thwarted by puny mischances. I shall 
 rest the more soundly for my ride out here. Doctor Tre 
 wartha, how nearly up is our time ?" 
 
 Trewartha pulled out his watch, a solid, old-fashioned, gold 
 repeater, with a massive chain, plain as a cable-cord. 
 
 "Fifteen minutes. You told the man to come in an hour?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I would ask you to see my husband," Mrs. Hurst said slowly 
 " but he sleeps soundly the first part of the night. Still " 
 
 "No, wait until to-morrow," interrupted Mrs. McRae. 
 "We shall come again. Doctor Trewartha has his- head full 
 of quips and quirks about diseases. Most of all, you want 
 to get out of this place. There's nothing like mountain air 
 for the bodies and souls of men. I'm glad to have found you 
 before it was too late." 
 
 "I should like to see your husband. From what your son 
 has told me, I should think his case peculiar, to say the least. 
 And if I could be of any service " 
 
 "Thank you," Mrs. Hurst murmured. 
 
 The four rose and stood in a group, making a picture of 
 striking contrasts. Victor felt it keenly. A question of wealth, 
 merely. But the ease and grace and air of superiority was 
 theirs. Poverty was a cloud upon his mother's refinement: it had 
 taken the bright red blood out of her veins, the roundness 
 from her figure, the happy, satisfied smile from her face. What
 
 With Fate against Him. r;7 
 
 if John Hurst had let those poor souls down yonder go whither 
 they would, and thought more of his own comfort ? 
 
 "So I shall come in again to-morrow," Mrs. McRae began 
 to repeat. "You will be better able to judge then how' far 
 you care to take up acquaintance with an old kinswoman. 
 That is the carriage, Doctor Trewartha. " 
 
 They all heard the rattle of the wheels. Mrs. McRae retied 
 her bonnet-strings ; drew her thick, soft fur mantle about 
 her throat ; and then half crushed Anah Hurst's thin hand in 
 hers so firm and warm ; and smiled on her in a cordial fashion 
 that was absolutely fascinating. This life had been so full and 
 generous : hers so meagre and bald. 
 
 "Good-night, friends. It is not a good-by until you decree 
 that our ways lie separate." 
 
 The long ray of light from the half-curtained window was 
 all that broke the dead blankness outside. How bitterly cold 
 and drear it was ! Yet Trewartha's tone almost made a spring 
 dawn of it. 
 
 Anah Hurst opened the hand that ached with the pressure 
 so recently given it, and began to straighten out something 
 a fifty dollar note. 
 
 "Charity 1" Victor said, in a great and unreasonable tumult 
 of soul. 
 
 " It is the Lord ;" and she bowed her head reverently. 
 
 But Victor saw no God in the hand. 
 
 A hard, dogmatic, purse-proud woman, who had hunted 
 up some needy relatives to swell the list of her worshippers, and 
 add to the insense on the shrine of her self-love. 
 
 " HE has answered my prayer at last, and raised up friends 
 in our need," she went on, in a low, grateful tone, that was 
 thanksgiving in itself. 
 
 Victor looked at the saint-like face. How much she had 
 borne, and how meekly. Was there, of a truth, an under 
 current that he knew nothing about that sometimes saw God 
 face to face ? 
 
 8*
 
 178 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "I was not aware that you had any connections living," 
 he said, presently. 
 
 "I knew not whether they were living or dead. I remem 
 ber that Mrs. McRae came to our house once, sometime 
 before my father died, and that the two had a dispute, 
 parting bad friends. My father was hot and unreasonable 
 when roused. They were distant cousins, and she married 
 one of the relatives. The family never was large." 
 
 "But rich," Victor said, in a half-repressed contempt. 
 
 "They were thrifty, hard-working people ;" and she sighed a 
 little. Her father had never troubled himself about the small 
 details of economy or management in any shape. 
 
 " I like Doctor Trewartha. Can he be a relative?" 
 
 "I hardly think so." Then she turned and studied her 
 son's face. 
 
 "Victor," she began again, falteringly, "whatever good 
 or pleasure may come out of this visit, whatever friendship 
 may be proffered, do not refuse. For what Janet McRae gives 
 she gives ungrudgingly." 
 
 She looked so worn and weary, so tired with the buffetings 
 of many storms, that his heart was moved with infinite pity. 
 
 " Mother," he cried, thrusting down a great wave of passion 
 that in another soul might have made tears, "God knows that 
 I have brought you pain enough following my own devices. 
 I have never been the comfort that a son should be. I thought 
 myself so much wiser than he" nodding to the closed room 
 beyond, "and went to meddling with souls as well as bodies, 
 and have failed miserably. Nothing that I ever touched pros 
 pered. And since I have shown myself so weak, so easily led 
 astray, I will take the destiny of no other human creature in 
 my hands. If Janet McRae chooses to befriend you and my 
 father, no word of mine shall anger or frustrate good inten 
 tions. Let her come as she will. I have dragged you nearly 
 to starvation." 
 
 She noticed that he left himself out. Yes, he would be too
 
 With Fate against Him. 179 
 
 proud to live on Mrs. McRae's money, if it ever came to that ; 
 and somehow the cordial clasps of the hand had meant a good 
 deal to her, gone to the depths of her soul. It would be as 
 well, perhaps, for him to carve out his own fortune if he 
 could ever find the right place. 
 
 "We all make mistakes ;" with pathetic submission. 
 
 " But mine was such a senseless blunder. And yet I think I 
 had a little right on my side, at all events. I was true to my 
 order at last ;" with a kind of scornful pity. 
 
 Was it his order? John Hurst, in the narrowness of human 
 wisdom, had put him there, but the soul would go on strug 
 gling and beating the bars until it found liberty and space to 
 cleave the air with its wings. 
 
 All she could do was to pray, for she had returned to the 
 God-given centre of faith after all her wanderings and unbelief. 
 God would send the right in His own good time. 
 
 Meanwhile Doctor Trewartha pulled the lap-robe over his 
 companion's feet, although the coach was closed. She settled 
 herself with her strong, independent air, and looked quite a 
 queen in the dim light of the lamp. 
 
 "Well," he said, "are you satisfied ?" And there was a quiet 
 curl of amusement around the bearded mouth. 
 
 "If I had expected to regret it I should not have come." 
 
 "There is quite a space between satisfaction and regret;" 
 gravely, still smiling. "And first impressions sway you." 
 
 "Which matters little, since they do not need to be of 
 unalloyed pleasure. But you are never satisfied, Doctor 
 Trewartha, until one is turned inside out for your delectation. 
 Well, Anah Hurst is a good deal changed ; has become a weak, 
 religious enthusiast, which is just so much better than a strong 
 one. She needs fresh air, generous food, walks and rides, and 
 some society of the right kind, to give her moral strength and 
 largeness of purpose and idea. I never did fancy women fed 
 exclusively on a diet of sermons." 
 
 "Unless you had to preach them yourself."
 
 180 With Fate against Him. 
 
 She laughed this time ; she was used to his sharp thrusts. 
 
 "Yes, I like my own preaching. It is a weakness of human 
 nature, I cling to a few in order to keep myself womanly." 
 
 "And the young man ?" when she had made a long 
 pause. 
 
 "The face is too handsome. It brought up a shadowy 
 something that eludes my memory ; but there is passion and 
 ambition in it, a strong side of feeling and but half-grown 
 brain, or he wouldn't have thrown himself into that gulf yon 
 der, poor fool ! He's been fed on a mush of transcenden 
 talism, and rights, and wrongs, until he hardly knows where 
 he stands, and yet he has the face of an aristocrat. It's the 
 contradiction I like," growing vehement; "the weak side 
 of inconsistency, the rapid moods travelling from heaven to hell 
 in a moment of space, and the mouth that shuts in hopes, 
 aims, and desires, like a vice. He would never utter weak, 
 blatant cries when fate had him at her worst." 
 
 "You have been studying him pretty well," said the Doctor 
 in some surprise. 
 
 "My eyes were for him, my ears for his mother. And, 
 Frank Trewartha, I mean to take them home with me. If he 
 suits me on farther acquaintance, I shall make him heir of 
 Cragness. I'd like to go to my grave with the thought of 
 a McRae reigning after me. Though he has but little of the 
 blood there never was a handsome one in the whole race. I 
 mean that he shall have the name, however. " 
 
 Doctor Trewartha sat and mused. "She should have had 
 a son," he said to himself.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE morning came in with a storm : a dreary leaden sky 
 and a bitter wind scurrying the pellets of snow about and drift 
 ing them into nooks and crannies, corners of stoops, and the 
 ground edge of fences. Anah Hurst tidied up her simple 
 room, bathed her husband's face and hands, and put on his 
 gray woollen dressing-gown. Victor lifted him into the arm 
 chair and dragged him in front of the fire. 
 
 There was something in the wasted and melancholy figure 
 and the indescribable pathos of the eyes that touched Victor 
 singularly this morning, especially as they followed him round 
 with that haunting, longing look. You could see that the 
 brain had gone a little astray, in the effort he made to think, 
 to recover his own identity and that of those around him, or 
 perhaps some subtle sense of the secret he considered his, 
 and felt that he must still hide. A wandering, wavering light, 
 unsubstantial as dreams, and a childish longing for the love 
 he had deemed it his duty to thrust aside, when the march oi 
 life was hurried. Heaven knows it was slow enough now. 
 
 "Are you going away?" reaching out the hand that shook 
 visibly, something beyond a mere nervous tremble. 
 
 "I was not." 
 
 He came a little nearer and took the wasted fingers in his, 
 tried to smile soothingly into the apprehensive eyes. 
 
 " I thought you were going ;" in a vague way, as if trying to 
 remember. "We should be all alone, Victor, two poor old 
 people. I used to think if God ever gave me a son it 
 vanishes so fast, like the light playing over the water. I meant 
 to do the best. You were a pretty little boy, Victor I used to
 
 1 82 With Fate against Him. 
 
 carry you in my arms to church when your hair was like threads 
 of gold. What is it ? a sword to pierce through thine own 
 heart ! She loved you so well, better than God, I was afraid, 
 and after her prayers she used to go and kiss you in the cradle. 
 Sometimea in the night I would miss her, and I could see her 
 standing there like a white phantom. God forbade idols, you 
 know." 
 
 Anah knelt down and leaned her cheek against her husband's 
 knee. Perhaps the poor old man had fought a jealous demon 
 in his own heart as well. 
 
 "There are no idols," she said, in her sweet, clear voice. 
 "God bade us love and comfort one another. If He gave 
 Himself for the world, ought not we to give ourselves to love 
 and good works for His sake ?" 
 
 "I wanted him saved ;" his long lids dropping dreamily. 
 " It would have been so hard for her not to find her little boy 
 in heaven. Could any one have comforted her ?" 
 
 Victor turned his eyes to his mother's, dimly understanding 
 what temporal or spiritual loss would be to her. 
 
 "I've made many mistakes; I couldn't always see the way 
 clearly. But you will not be hard with me, Victor ? God knows, 
 sometimes we get astray on paths not His." 
 
 The restless, nervous fingers began to pick at the hem of his 
 gown, and the words fell more slowly and incoherently. He 
 often talked to himself by the hour, sitting in the ruin of his 
 own mind, waiting for the time when he should be "clothed 
 upon" with immortality. Why had God sent this upon him, 
 his own faithful servant ? 
 
 "You won't leave me, Victor? It will not be long, I 
 think." 
 
 "I shall not leave you ;" clearly, and with a solemn awe in 
 his voice. Death seemed so near, death which was to unravel 
 the tangle of the three lives. 
 
 The stamping of feet on the door-step roused Anah Hurst. 
 She knew to whom the stir must belong.
 
 With Fate against Him. 183 
 
 "They have come !" in her woman's consternation, as if she 
 would fain have shut them out. 
 
 But when they had entered and brought the buoyant life, 
 the sense of energy and strength that a vigorous healthy tempera 
 ment always imparts, Anah felt like clinging to them, strangers 
 though they were. Janet McRae, with her imperious grace 
 and magnetic vitality, seemed to draw her by some occult 
 charm, in spite of the sharp tongue. 
 
 "I said I would come, you know, and here I am. A 
 McRae would sooner go to his death, I believe, than break 
 his word, even in a trifle. Trewartha here has scolded me 
 soundly for bolting down upon you last night. You slept 
 well, I hope?" 
 
 Anah smiled. The voice was so warm, cheery, and heartsome. 
 
 " That's right, my dear, only it looks like a straggling sun 
 beam after a March storm. I'm old enough to be your mother, 
 and the last of your kin. I think you know, that I mean you 
 well. I can take contradiction, and even a flat denial ; but 
 cowardly souls I never could endure." 
 
 Victor raised his eyes at this. The lad seemed to promise a 
 good fight, and she experienced an instinctive longing to take 
 him in hand to shape the soul into that of a hero. A very 
 weak, miserable, soul he felt it just now. 
 
 ' ' This is my husband. " 
 
 Anah Hurst clasped the hand in hers and seemed to sway his 
 unsteady eyes with the motion. "John, you remember hear 
 ing my father speak of cousin McRae of Cragness ? This is 
 she. And the gentleman is Doctor Trewartha. " 
 
 " McRae. Yes, your father dead long ago ;" glancing at 
 her wistfully. " I don't understand." 
 
 "I'm a kinswoman of your wife, her only one. I think 
 you will trust her with me, that you will take me for a friend ?" 
 and stooping her tall figure, Janet McRae looked steadily into 
 the wandering eyes, seeming to rouse their latent strength as 
 nothing had done since the stroke.
 
 184 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " A friend yes;" with the look of patient reflection you 
 sometimes behold in the face of a dumb beast when it seems 
 as if its soul would be moved to speech. 
 
 "A fiiend ;" still with the peculiar force and steadiness. 
 " We are the last of a long and honorable line." 
 
 Victor flushed. She had spoken the truth unwittingly. 
 Those two women, so very dissimilar, were the last of their 
 honorable line. 
 
 "And Doctor Trewartha would like to examine a little into 
 your case. I hardly need recommend him," glancing at Anah. 
 
 No, the face spoke for itself. A good, sweet, courtly gen 
 tleman, with a tender, heartsome smile and a rich voice that 
 carried with it some secret of a life well used. John Hurst 
 appeared to listen and think as if he had heard it in some 
 other country. 
 
 " We will leave them together," Mrs. McRae began. "I 
 have much to say to you, much to hear." 
 
 So the two went out to the old kitchen and sat in front of 
 the broad fireplace. 
 
 "It has been a hard life," the elder said, "I can tell by 
 your face. God's vicegerents now are not treated as well as 
 the Levites of old. Few people can afford to'give a tenth, but 
 still they demand ministers. I think a clergyman who under 
 rates himself sins as much as they panders to their selfish 
 ness. If they dared to do so at Cragness I should shut up 
 the church. I'm not much of a believer in it myself; but I 
 should stand up for one man's rights as soon as another. 
 There's a monstrous sight of wrong-dealing in this world." 
 1 " God will set it right at last, I think," deprecatingly. 
 
 " Humph ! So you wait for that ? There's one text that I 
 think worth dozens of your weak resignation : ' Speak to the 
 children of Israel that they go forward.' And the children of 
 this day want speaking to pretty often, according to my think 
 ing. The world is full of laggards, who would rather sit with 
 folded hands and sing psalms than be up and doing."
 
 With Fate against Him. i85 
 
 "He never sat with folded hands, but went to the last 
 moment, the last step." 
 
 "Yes, I've heard of him. I told you last night the men 
 who took such work upon themselves, ought to have fortunes." 
 
 " He was called. He left everything." 
 
 "Yes. This was his reward," glancing around the bare, 
 common room. "And the burden he is bearing that you 
 are all bearing. Anah Hurst, I wonder sometimes what the 
 religion of the world is worth. I don't doubt that he was a 
 good man, and his brethren have left him to trust God to the 
 uttermost. I dare say some of them ride in their carriages." 
 
 " He was content with his place." 
 
 "Well, I'm not content with yours, nor your son's. He 
 flew off at a tangent on the other side, it seems. Well, well, 
 we all try our hand at righting the world, and it will still go 
 wrong after we are in our graves. I suppose it always did, for 
 that matter, since the flood was early in its history. But I have 
 something else on my mind. Your son has spirit and energy, 
 certainly. How did he get among that rabble ? He doesn't 
 look as if his choicest sympathies were with them. He's not 
 a McRae, still less is he a Hurst. But one can never answer 
 for all the tricks of ancestry." 
 
 " His father thought it better that he should have a trade," 
 and the color fluttered over her worn face. 
 
 "I've no objection to that. The McRaes worked for gen 
 erations before I was born, and I'm none the worse for it. 
 But maybe something else would have done better for the 
 child, filled his hungry brain. In these days brains have come 
 to be a deal of trouble. So I have resolved to take you all back 
 to Cragness with me." 
 
 Anah Hurst started up in utter astonishment. 
 
 " Yes. There are broad acres of farm-land, mountain-wilds, 
 a mill, a stone-quarry and gold for all I know," with a short 
 laugh. "And why should I not do it? I have no kith noi 
 kin beside."
 
 186 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "But ," for though Anah Hurst had thought of possible 
 generosity, nothing so entire had found its way to her soul, in 
 its wildest imaginings. 
 
 "It will be better for the lad, I think, and change into 
 mountain air may benefit your husband. Trewartha will de 
 cide when and how it will be possible to move him. Hush, 
 not a word. I am impoverishing no one. Suppose, after having 
 lived your life of penury after seeing your son drag through 
 a miserable existence with poverty and discouragements, a for 
 tune should come to him at the last. Better a little now, I say. 
 I'm not going to make him rich, but to give him a fair start." 
 
 Anah reached out her hand. 
 
 "You are too good," she almost sobbed. 
 
 " No, I'm not good at all. Dispossess your mind quickly of 
 that idea. I'm a proud, self-willed, cranky old woman. But I 
 should not have the grace to die without leaving you a few 
 thousands, and for all I see I may as well use them now. " 
 
 They talked until almost noon. Trewartha and Victor, in 
 the adjoining room, made rapid strides into good-fellowship. 
 It was Victor's first real experience with depth, strength, and 
 culture, and he found it very fascinating. 
 
 Meanwhile the storm had increased. Streets and lanes were 
 white with the tempest of snow, still whirling little mounds to 
 the sheltered side. Mrs. Hurst began to prepare her dinner. 
 Victor was summoned and requested to do some simple 
 marketing. She handed him the note received last night from 
 Mrs. McRae. 
 
 "No, I couldn't touch it;" with a young man's sensitive 
 pride, the fine nostrils curling impatiently. 
 
 "It is all I have. When they pay father " 
 
 He thrust his fur cap over his eyes, pulled his coat-collar up 
 round his chin, and stamped his way down the walk. Two 
 pictures came vividly before his mental vision Alfred Lowndes, 
 "our talented and painstaking young countryman on the high 
 road to fame," as the papers had announced him at his depart-
 
 With Fate against Him. 187 
 
 ure, sunning himself in that far land of beaut)' and art, and 
 winning praise, making money with what ? a paltry gift of 
 presenting nature in her washed-up drawing-room attire of 
 small prettiness ; and Doctor Trewartha, a man of true culture, 
 refinement, ease, rare humor and knowledge of all kinds, able 
 to classify the lizards found in rocks centuries old, and tell you 
 what gradations of color went to make an autumn leaf. Not 
 that he envied Lowndes, only the luck that had placed him 
 where he was ; nor Trewartha, any farther than the life and 
 wealth that had given him such advantages. Fifteen years 
 from this he could reach neither estate, not having the trick of 
 popularity the one possessed, nor the ease and leisure of the 
 other. Talk of a man working his way up was it an easy 
 task when brain and soul and limbs were exhausted with 
 severe physical labor ? 
 
 He turned into the little shop. Sometimes they had an 
 account standing here when the salary had been very much in 
 arrears ; but now he must deliberately ask for credit. 
 
 "Morning, Hurst. Bitterish kind of a storm. Been 
 threatening a long while, though. How's your father ?" 
 
 Then James Penly went on chopping the ragged edges off 
 of a piece of meat, and throwing them on another block for 
 sausage. 
 
 "About the same." 
 
 "What'll you have?" seeing that his customer was rather 
 backward, and half-suspecting the truth. 
 
 "Several articles, and if you will let them stand " stam 
 mering, as he crushed down his pride. 
 
 "Well " hesitatingly, "times are pretty hard ; business of 
 all kinds being so dull. Awful work to collect money. Got 
 a look for anything ?" 
 
 " No ;" the fair face turning swarthy with mortification. "But 
 the salary has not all been paid, or. I should not ask you to 
 wait." He felt quite willing now to take it in hand. 
 
 "Hasn't?" with a kind of contemptuous laugh. "You
 
 1 88 With Fate against Him. 
 
 might about as well give that up, then. Rather <?lucky that 
 you should have gone so deep into the strike, Hurst." 
 
 Victor turned as if he would leave the place. 
 
 " Don't be so huffy, young man. I've never been disoblig 
 ing yet to an honest neighbor. Come, what'll you have?" with 
 an air of alacrity. 
 
 Victor swallowed his pride and the deeper wound, and made 
 his few purchases. This was the real sting of poverty ; but he 
 did not mean that Mrs. McRae should eat her dinner in their 
 house, bought with her own money. 
 
 Doctor Trewartha had been discussing Mr. Hurst's case with 
 the two women. 
 
 " He should have been taken out through the summer, and 
 thus assisted in regaining the use of his limbs ; and the exer 
 cise would have been beneficial to his brain as well. There 
 can be hardly any hope of his ultimate recovery, but he may 
 improve, as his constitution still seems strong. Change 
 of scene, and an entirely different life, must be the first 
 step. " 
 
 Anah sighed. How easy it was to talk to prescribe. God 
 had sent poverty and misfortune upon them, but they were not 
 alone. She had seen so many poor, weary creatures stretched 
 upon beds of helplessness, until from her sad, overflowing 
 heart she had cried, ' ' How long, O Lord, how long ?" Was 
 the world ruled with justice and wisdom ? 
 
 "We thought of going away," she said, hesitatingly. "Vic 
 tor had planned " 
 
 "I may as well tell you, Trewartha, that / have not only 
 planned, but have made known my wishes. When could 
 Mr. Hurst endure the fatigue of a journey ?" 
 
 " He could be moved as soon as the weather would permit," 
 glancing from one to the other in the utmost surprise, and 
 then smiling. He might have known that Janet McRae 
 would lose no time. 
 
 "But the young man "
 
 With Fate against Him. 189 
 
 "Mrs. Hurst has trained her son but poorly if he refuses 
 to see what is so evidently for his own advantage," in a quick 
 tone, tapping her foot sharply upon the floor. 
 
 Trewartha came round to her side and said, just under his 
 breath " Be careful the fellow is as proud as Lucifer." 
 
 "But you think him worth saving?" 
 
 "I think him worth it ;" with an odd, far-light in the eyes, 
 as if speculating upon some matter. 
 
 " I'll be tender of his pride ;" laughing complacently. 
 
 Trewartha would have gone about the business cautiously: 
 questioned the young man's wants, and aims, and longings, 
 and entrapped him upon some unwary admission he half 
 suspected them now and then led him gently to the point. 
 Straightforward women have more confidence in the force of 
 simple truth, depending less upon logical sequences. 
 
 So that afternoon she laid the matter before Victor, growing 
 eloquent over the advantages his parents would derive from 
 the change. 
 
 "And as for you," she went on, in her caustic but sweet- 
 humored way, that, after all, was her most fascinating gift, "I 
 should think you had gone to the end of your tether here. 
 You will find that a man's blunders are remembered against 
 him more readily than his sins, in this world, where want of 
 success is a crime. Come to Cragness, and see how you like 
 it. You can find plenty of work there, if that is your fancy," 
 studying him with her keen blue eyes. 
 
 " Poverty and work go together naturally, I believe. It is 
 an ancient partnership, never to be divorced ;" meeting her 
 glance with an under-current of defiance that she liked. Weak 
 people were her abomination. 
 
 'John Hurst made a mistake when he gave you that birth 
 right. He should have done better." 
 
 A faint purple line showed about Victor's mouth. The 
 world outside would never know what John Hurst had done 
 for him, and he had chivalry enough not to hear him blamed.
 
 190 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "He did what he thought right. 1 can't make it clear how 
 much God demands, but he gave Him all. As for the years 
 to come, I shall take care of him while he lives. I shall not 
 go to the wall because the luck was against me." 
 
 "Luck !" with a fiery, downward breath, like an impatient 
 snort. "You struck your blow at the wrong time, that was 
 all a blunder. You tried to fight capital when business was 
 growing dull, and men had swarmed in from the country, 
 more fools they ; and your workmen, living from hand to 
 mouth, can hold out about so long employers know that, 
 too. The week's wages, the Trade's fund, and credit at the 
 corner grocery a matter of two months, may be less, and then 
 submission." 
 
 "I think we had the right of it," doggedly. "Just ? bare 
 subsistence for the men with families, and that to be lowered 
 when extra expenses were coming on." 
 
 " Let them fight their own battles another time." 
 " I couldn't. You do not understand. If I had refused to 
 join the men I should have been marked on the other side. I 
 was no great favorite with them any way." 
 
 " You don't belong to them ;" tapping her foot hard to give 
 her words force. 
 
 "It is difficult to tell where some men do belong," with a 
 bitter smile, thinking how everything had conspired to throw 
 him into this groove. Even Lowndes had raised his hand. 
 
 " You are young enough to try it over again. More than 
 one person has missed the path in his hot unreasoning 
 youth." 
 
 He made no answer. She watched the power and beauty in 
 his face, the sharp discordant lines that looked so inharmo 
 nious. And though in her sturdy Scotch pride she would 
 have flung out the Greek grace and sort of sculptured contour, 
 as a woman it rather pleased her. It was not soft and vas- 
 cillating. He could be sharp and ungracious when the mood 
 took him.
 
 With Fate against Him. 191 
 
 "So you will come to Cragness," she went on, as if the 
 matter was settled. "It is not likely your father can live 
 many years. I shall wish to keep your mother after that my 
 self, and you can try your fortune. By that time you will 
 know best what to do. " 
 
 Victor Hurst's eyes wandered to the drooping figure of his 
 mother. She was sitting beside her husband, Trewartha 
 making a third, and explaining some curious case over which 
 he had puzzled years agone. He noted the sharpened outlines, 
 the thin fingers busy with the knitting, the slow-moving 
 melancholy eyes, the pale grayish skin with no soft flush or 
 elasticity about it. She, barely past the boundary-line of forty, 
 and this hardy, brilliant, forcible woman, with breath fragrant 
 as dewy violets, cheeks with the flush of youth, no sense of 
 loss or incompleteness about her, no hint of privation in the 
 firm, rosy flesh, and lacking only a few years of the allotted 
 three score and ten. 
 
 Would it not be cruel to deprive her of the only alleviation 
 that might come in her life ? And then he had half promised 
 her. 
 
 If Mrs. McRae knew the secret that he and his mother held 
 between them, would she still ask ? But were they bound 
 to drag up the sins of another person and answer for 
 them? 
 
 "I will come to Cragness," he began, in a slow, deliberate 
 tone, "if I can find work there. I could obtain it elsewhere, 
 but the trouble is to leave them alone until I am able to make 
 a new home. We are very poor." 
 
 He did not flush but rather paled at this confession. And 
 she, reading the stormy, pricking pride, the bitter humiliation, 
 was minded to help him, and answered more softly 
 
 ' ' John Hurst might have been a prosperous man if he 
 had thought more of himself and less of his neighbors. I don't 
 know but he went beyond the commandment. We under 
 stand the need of a heaven when we see such lives."
 
 192 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Then she was not all satire and self-esteem. He seemed 
 to draw nearer to her, silently. 
 
 "You shall find the work. I have to depend upon my 
 good friend Doctor Trewartha for many favors where it would 
 be good to have help of one's own. Since Mr. McRae's 
 death, sixteen years ago, I have carried on the place alone." 
 
 "One's own !" A tint of the McRae blood ran in his veins 
 to be sure, but as a curious suspicion flashed through his 
 brain how could he well help he would be the last of the 
 race. No, if she thought of such a thing it could never, 
 never be. One way and another every family carried about 
 with them some honors, pride, wealth, lineage, pure blood, 
 and there had been a curse set upon him that would mock 
 them all. 
 
 " While my parents live I shall be their stay and support. 
 I think I have some roving fancies in my brain, and if I 
 were free to follow them " 
 
 "Yes, I understand;" nodding her head. "While they 
 live, then." 
 
 He was surprised at her ready concession. 
 
 She glanced at him from under her wide, drooping lids as 
 a huntsman might at the wild shy falcon he allures to his 
 finger. Once there 
 
 "A woman's wit is as keen as a man's," she said to herself.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A MILD February sun lay warm over the landscape, making 
 the snow seem like fields of amber. On the high back-ground 
 to the west the trees were distinctly outlined against a sky that 
 wavered in azure lights. Lower and lower, range after range, 
 until you came to the broad sweep of table-land broken by 
 clumps of timber left uncut, or here and there a nest of houses 
 in the ambitious fellowship of a straggling village. 
 
 From her post by the large embayed window, Sylvia Red 
 mond studied the picture. This old stone mansion stood on a 
 rise of ground with a grove of giant oaks between it and the 
 northern blasts. Over to the west were the chain of mountains, 
 far to the south the towns, so far, indeed, that the smoke and 
 din never penetrated this clear, clean air. Janet McRae would 
 have it so. 
 
 "If the railroad came up five miles higher, it would be 
 worth a fortune to you," Dr. Trewartha had said. 
 
 "What do I want of a fortune?" in her sharp, ringing tone. 
 "It is near enough." 
 
 "It would make the farm-produce so much more avail 
 able." 
 
 "The farms are well enough." 
 
 The towns and villages had felt the effects ; but Cragness stood 
 as it did fifty years ago, not even caring to hold out its hand 
 to advancing civilization. 
 
 To the eastward there were three or four mansions belonging 
 to the gentry, stretched far apart, with their wide, surrounding 
 acres. A rather lonely place most people would have thought, 
 but Sylvia liked it. She never wearied standing by this window, 
 
 9
 
 194 With Fate against Him. 
 
 noting all the fine detail of the still-life picture. She had seen 
 the old blackened tree down yonder scathed by lightning, the 
 great group of pines so black and uncanny in winter, the in 
 dentation of the river winding round, at this season frozen over, 
 but every curve in it was fresh to her memory. Not a hillock 
 but she could have placed rightly, had she been thousands of 
 miles away, sketching the scene. 
 
 "Ruth," she exclaimed, suddenly turning to her com 
 panion, "are there no old legends connected with this 
 house ?" 
 
 "Old legends? Not that I know of." 
 
 The quiet, unsmiling face never moved, the white fingers 
 went on with their work, a piece of heavy silk-embroidery for 
 a chair. 
 
 "You would have heard them?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "That is why I like Rothermel. There are such hosts of 
 pictures, and odd, quaint stories about them. Knights and 
 ladies, and strange, weird faces full of daring and passion. I 
 like it better even than my uncle's in Virginia, though the old 
 negro women there tell me stories of love and murder and 
 witchcraft. " 
 
 "With but little truth in them." 
 
 "What does it matter, after all? I like the glamor of 
 romance. I always look over the old Gilliat chronicles for the 
 war scenes, and then take a peep at the picture of royalist Sir 
 Hugh in his scarlet-slashed doublet. That is true, at least ;" 
 with a silvery little laugh. ' ' You are so matter of fact, Ruth. " 
 
 " Yes ; that was too sadly true. The only legend of the 
 McRaes, if you can call it one, is the fact that some of its 
 men fought with Cromwell." 
 
 "I hate the Roundheads! Think how they must have 
 looked, with their cropped hair and straight coats, singing 
 psalms with a whine through their nose." 
 
 "They were good men, " sturdily ; "and when they could
 
 With Fate against Him. 195 
 
 no longer live according to the light of their consciences, they 
 crossed the sea." 
 
 "And burned those who would not agree with them. An 
 odd species of toleration. I think your ancestors suffered a 
 little there. I should hate them if I were you." 
 
 Was it her Quaker blood, half a century back, that made 
 Ruth Gamier so impassible ? 
 
 "Why should I hate them ? They are all dead and gone, 
 and lived according to their light. It is for God to judge the 
 rest. " 
 
 Sylvia looked at her curiously. Sometimes during the past 
 fortnight she had thought her very handsome. A tall, grand 
 woman, with a white, opaque skin rarely flushing, steady dark- 
 brown eyes, and a heavy crown of dark hair always in the same 
 massive braids. Her dress was grave but rich, and fell about 
 her in great waves, as she sat in the crimson chair. That, and 
 the silks in the embroidery, gave her a peculiar brilliance, as 
 the shining green leaves set off a waxen camelia. If she would 
 only flush, or frown, or get into little heats, like other girls 
 for after all, there was only two years' difference in their ages. 
 But Ruth Gamier might have been twenty-nine instead of 
 nineteen. 
 
 "So, they were Roundheads?" going back to the former 
 subject. "Mrs. McRae should be a staunch old Scotch Pres 
 byterian, then ?" 
 
 "I think the sharpness of creeds gets worn off," replied 
 Ruth Gamier, in her slow, reflective manner. 
 
 "And laughed off, wherever Doctor Trewartha is," responded 
 Sylvia, with a quick, gay smile that seemed a part of her em 
 phatic little face. "Ruth, I am half in love with Doctor 
 Trewartha." 
 
 Then the grave eyes were raised slowly to the girl standing 
 by the window. The piquant little figure, flashing hair, dewy 
 clear eyes, and rosebud mouth, were very sweet and winsome. 
 Ruth had liked her as one likes a kitten or a spoiled yet
 
 196 With Fate against Him. 
 
 charming child. To hear her talk of love and Doctor Tre- 
 wartha in the same breath ! 
 
 "He is old enough to be your father;" in a tone of slow 
 surprise. Everything about this girl was so deliberate, phleg 
 matic. Perhaps it was a part of her temperament. 
 
 "Well !" in her gay, sunny, child's tone. "What does the 
 old adage say 'An old man's darling a young man's slave.' 
 I do not believe that I have any taste for slavery." 
 
 Then Ruth glanced out over the fast-wasting snow. On the 
 ridges the ground began to show through. The amber tints 
 were paling as the sun went westward, resolving themselves to 
 grayish white in shadowy places. 
 
 " When will they return ?" 
 
 "I don't know. We ought to have a letter to-day. Mrs. 
 McRae wrote from New York last. She had gone thither on 
 a little business. " 
 
 "But it will be soon?" 
 
 Ruth was threading her needle with scarlet, and the contrast 
 with the snow-white fingers attracted Sylvia. She was such a 
 creature of moods and whims and changeful fancies. 
 
 "Are you growing homesick?" Ruth asked. " It is dull 
 here without Mrs. McRae. I am poor company." 
 
 "No, what put that into your head ? I like it ever so much 
 better than at cousin Braisted's. Everything is so wonderfully 
 precise ; and three old maids ! Ruth, shall you ever marry ?" 
 
 "How can I tell?" pushing the hair back from her temple 
 and looking straight through vacancy. 
 
 "Sure enough. We do not know anything about it. Now 
 I have a presentiment there comes Matt !" 
 
 So the presentiment vanished. Sylvia ran out of the room 
 and through the broad oaken panelled hall, tugging at the great 
 door. She rather liked this being lawless and following out 
 every passing impulse. 
 
 Matt halted his shaggy pony, sprang off, and brought a small 
 rusty-looking bag up the steps.
 
 With Fate against Him. 197 
 
 "Mail, Miss Redmond." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She was off again like a flash, her long light hair floating 
 behind her. 
 
 " There are your letters. Hurry ! What news of Doctor 
 Trewartha ? I have half a mind to fall sick if you hear noth 
 ing." 
 
 Ruth laid her work on the chair opposite, opened the drawer 
 of Mrs. McRae's desk, and took out a key. 
 
 "There is no need," she said presently. "Why this lettei 
 has been delayed. They will be home to-morrow, the twen 
 tieth. And" 
 
 Ruth made a long, thoughtful pause, so long that. Sylvia 
 exclaimed, impatiently "Well?" 
 
 " They are to bring some visitors connections." 
 
 "I thought Mrs. Janet McRae was the lone chief, the last 
 of her family." 
 
 "It appears not. A Mr. and Mrs. Hurst the latter a 
 McRae." 
 
 "Hurst! It seems to me as if I had heard the name 
 before," and Sylvia's bronze fringed lids drooped dreamily. 
 
 "And a son. The father is a hopeless invalid." 
 
 " I wonder what the son is like? - Oh, Ruth !" with a great 
 gasp. 
 
 "Why, child, what is the matter ?" glancing up in a kind of 
 constrained surprise. 
 
 " It's such an odd thought ;" and Sylvia laughed. "Sup 
 pose Mrs. McRae means to make him her heir. Blood is 
 thicker than water with a canny Scotsman. And it is the talk 
 of the neighborhood that you are to inherit Cragness. Oh, I 
 have it you two must marry." 
 
 With that Sylvia clapped her baby hands, and laughed with 
 eager delight. Ah, Janet McRae, how soundly you could have 
 shaken the little witch had you been there, for thus betraying 
 your half-formed plans in her absurd childish nonsense 1
 
 198 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Sylvia, how your head runs on marriage this afternoon. 
 It is unwomanly. " 
 
 "Ah, but I shall never be a woman. Mamma bewails the 
 fact daily when I am with her. Besides, you know, this young 
 Hurst may be some great clumsy hobble-de-hoy, just in his 
 teens. So don't put on your quaker face, my darling, for it's 
 always grave enough. You shall never marry at all, if it will 
 please you better. " 
 
 She kissed the smooth cheek in her extravagant fashion, 
 bringing quite a rosy flush in it. 
 
 "Now you are beautiful," she declared. " You only want 
 color and style, and a little spirit. Ruth, I wonder if there 
 are any grand central fires in your soul. I feel sometimes as 
 if I were a miniature Mount Vesuvius." 
 
 "I must tell Martha, and have the fires made -to-night " 
 
 "Oh, Eve, on hospitable thoughts intent!" 
 
 "The two east rooms; and they have not been opened 
 since Christmas." 
 
 Ruth Gamier studied her letter slowly, and then as slowly 
 walked out of the room, with her sweeping, magnificent step, 
 that a stage queen might have envied. 
 
 Sylvia stood a moment by the window. There was a streak 
 of pale, watery yellow in the west, and the world was fast being 
 shrouded by the gray winter twilight, cold and cheerless. 
 What a difference a little sun made ! She did not love gloom, 
 so she rolled Ruth's crimson chair toward the fire, and curled 
 herself in it, drawing up her dainty feet, and leaning her head 
 against the cushioned back. If an heir should come to Crag- 
 ness, would it bring any pain to slow-brained, quiet-hearted 
 Ruth ? True, no one had positively said that Cragness was to 
 be hers, but then for seven years Mrs. McRae had treated her 
 as a daughter. And where had she heard that name Hurst ? 
 It vexed her that she could not remember. 
 
 Then she resigned herself to her own sweet, fanciful dreams 
 of airy nothings, in which Doctor Trewartha's laugh was the
 
 With Fate against Him. 199 
 
 gayest feature. He would come back to-morrow, and she 
 would be lingering at Cragness. 
 
 Ruth, in the meanwhile, hunted up Martha Mason, the 
 housekeeper, and gave her the instructions, with the letter still 
 in hand. 
 
 "The rooms are to be well aired, warm, and comfortable ; 
 and they will be here a little past noon to-morrow. The letter 
 was delayed two or three days. " 
 
 "I can have it all ready, Miss Ruth, never fear. A con 
 nection of the family, you said ? I've been here thirty years 
 come Easter, and I've never heard mention of them. Stay 
 let me see I think there was a Richard McRae whom they 
 once visited, who had a daughter. I'm not quite clear in my 
 mind. If so, she must have married a Hurst. The Madame 
 has a large heart, Miss Ruth, but kin is kin, the world over." 
 
 Ruth Gamier went up to the rooms with Martha. They 
 were chilly enough, from their long disuse, but large and 
 well furnished. 
 
 "I'll just order the fires to be made to-night. Well, well ! 
 I'm glad to have the mistress coming back. It doesn't seem 
 like the same house without her. Nearly a month gone." 
 
 Ruth and Sylvia had their supper alone in the quaint old 
 dining-room, where the furniture and wainscoting were of the 
 most antique kind. Then Sylvia read aloud from a novel, 
 and Ruth sewed some trifle of white muslin. But when they 
 were brushing out their hair in Ruth's room, Sylvia must 
 needs speculate upon the new-comers. 
 
 The morning was a busy one. Both girls looked into the 
 chambers now and then, and saw them approaching that state 
 of neatness for which Martha Mason was renowned. After 
 ward Sylvia waited impatiently. 
 
 The day was much warmer, with a premonition of rain in 
 the hazy, low-lying clouds. The road that had been smooth 
 and glassy showed the ruts made by sledge-runners, and the 
 horses began to track up the soil underneath. A soft, brood-
 
 2Oo With Fate against Him. 
 
 ing day, suggesting the distant spring, with velvet turf and 
 violets. 
 
 Sylvia watched from her post at the window. She counted 
 the trees and the hills ; saw the tall chimney down below on 
 the plain, and the clustering nest of houses indistinctly, as if 
 she half dreamed it. Presently there came a long streak of 
 dense black smoke against the delicate blue-gray sky. 
 
 "The train is in, Ruth." 
 
 "And my work is done. I believe there is not another 
 stitch to put in it. Mrs. McRae will be so surprised. She said 
 I would not have it finished before midsummer." 
 
 Ruth began to go carefully over the work with her steady 
 eyes. Not a miss or flaw anywhere. It was very beautiful. 
 
 M Matt went down, of course ?" 
 
 "Both Matt and Joe, and the two sleighs." 
 
 "We shall have a houseful. Of all things, I like a crowd 
 and new faces. People seem ever so much more entertaining 
 to me than books. There they are always accurately mapped 
 out : so much goodness, so much angelic patience, such a 
 temperament, and you know at once what the man or woman 
 does. I like surprises." 
 
 "Certain temperaments are subject to certain laws. They 
 must act as the motive power leads unless restrained by God's 
 grace. " 
 
 " Ruth, you were meant for a preacher." 
 
 "I think not;" with grave composure. "I have enough 
 on my hands without taking the burden of the souls of 
 others. " 
 
 " How much ?" She placed her small hands on Ruth's knees 
 and looked earnestly into the placid brown eyes that were 
 great calm lakes. "You never do anything wrong. You are 
 helpful, industrious, kind, patient, and oh, too goody," with a 
 gay laugh. "I shouldn't think you would ever find a flaw of 
 which you could repent. Now, I am ' evil continually." 1 
 
 Yet very sweet, Ruth Gamier thought, gazing into the glad
 
 With Fate against Him. 201 
 
 child's face. They were so unlike, yet they always enjoyed 
 each other's society exceedingly. 
 
 So the talk went on, while fate was coming nearer every 
 moment. It is so strange and awesome to be approaching the 
 great unseen which is to change the current of our lives and 
 work us good or ill. Every day thousands of souls pass this 
 point, stretching out eager hands. 
 
 Then a muffled sound of bells floated to them, for there 
 was no resonance or elasticity in the air. Sylvia longed to run 
 down with a glad cry of welcome, but she stood a litlle in awe 
 .of Mrs. McRae, and desired of all things to be proper. 
 
 "There's Doctor Trewartha's lovely, sunshiny face he is 
 handsome, Ruth, and oh !" 
 
 She was silent so long, and so motionless that Ruth glanced 
 curiously at her, and then out of the window. Doctor Tre- 
 wartha was taking a burden in his arms, and a plainly-dressed 
 woman stood beside him. In the sleigh behind were Janet 
 McRae's tall figure and ample shoulders, and a young man. 
 
 "I must go down," Ruth said, slowly. 
 
 But Sylvia made no stir. She was wondering where she had 
 seen that floating tawny hair, that clear-cut Greek profile, that 
 proud air and carriage. Surely she had talked to him, watched 
 the unconsciously imperious gestures. 
 
 Mrs. McRae came into the hall and kissed Ruth upon her 
 cheek. Then the breezy voice swept up and down like a cur 
 rent of her own mountain air. Cheerful greetings to servants, 
 inquiries, commands, all in a breath. 
 
 " Is the room ready, Martha ? It will be best to take him 
 up at once he is so fatigued with the journey. Ruth, this is 
 Mrs. Hurst, and her son. Be careful, Trewartha ! Miss Gar- 
 nier" her eyes travelling from one to another even as her words. 
 
 Some strange impulse led Ruth to take the trembling hand, 
 for Mrs. Hurst appeared frightened by all this stir and scurry 
 ing of servants. Perhaps, too, she wondered at her own 
 temerity in venturing upon the friendship of Janet McRae. 

 
 202 With Fate against Him. 
 
 They carried John Hurst to his room and disencumbered 
 him of his wrappings. Trewartha was as gentle as if he had 
 been a baby. The faded eyes thanked him with their wavering 
 smile. 
 
 Ruth, in the meanwhile attended to Mrs. Hurst, and when 
 they were in a fair way of being comfortable, Mrs. McRae 
 carried her off to her own room, and heard in ten minutes 
 the amount of news and business that had come under the 
 girl's supervision. 
 
 To Sylvia the time was simply intolerable. What were they 
 all doing and talking about ? If she could only have another 
 glimpse of the face to assist her memory. Was Mr. Hurst a 
 terrible, helpless invalid ? What would his wife be like ? 
 
 All manner of disjointed fancies ran through her brain. 
 Then the door opened. 
 
 "Sylvia, child, how do you do?" kissing her on the cheek 
 as well. " So you've been helping -Ruth keep house ?" 
 
 "Not much help, I think," with a gay laugh. 
 
 " Mrs. Hurst, Sylvia Redmond." 
 
 A neat, delicate, commonplace woman, with nothing 
 about her to offend in her soft gray stuff dress and linen collar 
 and cuffs ; but the meek, patient sorrow in her face went to 
 Sylvia's heart. 
 
 "You were never in the old house, I think," Mrs. McRae 
 began. "It bears its age better than we shall. What puny 
 things we are compared to yonder mountain, or those giant 
 oaks ! Yet we have our own work to do our own work," 
 tapping the window-sill with her long forefinger. 
 
 Sylvia cared little about the work. She drew a chair for 
 Mrs. Hurst, and then rolled an ottoman to Mrs. McRae's feet, 
 seating herself. 
 
 " Tell me about New York," she said, "and Philadelphia, 
 and" 
 
 "You must ask Doctor Trewartha. It's a noisy Babel to 
 me, full of sights and sounds, for which I at least have no
 
 With Fate against Him. 203 
 
 longing. Balls and theatres and shopping are out of my line 
 as well. You and Ruth would see more in half an hour than 
 I in a week. I am devoutly glad to get home, Midge ; 
 more rejoiced than you at going. " 
 
 "I don't wonder that you are glad to come here. I am 
 always, and it is not my home either. There's such a great, 
 grand restfulness about it." 
 
 Janet McRae enclosed the child's face in her two hands, 
 and gazed intently at the lustrous eyes. What an odd little 
 thing it was, going to the depths of souls now and then, by 
 one or two trenchant words. The strong old features softened 
 to a smile. 
 
 It was almost dusk when Doctor Trewartha came down, 
 followed by Victor. Mrs. McRae rang for lights, and bustled 
 about as became the mistress in her own house. Mrs. Hurst 
 spoke to her son, calling him by name. 
 
 "Victor!" 
 
 Sylvia Redmond looked again. Yes, it all came back to her 
 now. The quaint Bohmerwald settlement, the festival with its 
 moonlight and homely cheer, the fantastic musician, and Vic 
 tor Hurst ! He had forgotten her, but she should remember 
 him among a thousand. 
 
 "Midge," Trewartha exclaimed, pinching the rosy cheek," 
 what grave subject are you pondering? You are not at all 
 glad to see me. You have not given me one word of welcome." 
 
 " You deserve to be punished for staying away so long." 
 
 " Is that it ? Have you grown jealous ?" 
 
 "Yes. Of him. You will like him better than you do 
 me," in a soft whisper that reached only Ruth Gamier. 
 
 " He is a man and a companion, you know," with a twinkle 
 in the mirthful eyes. 
 
 She crept closer, and slipped her hand within Doctor Tre- 
 wartha's. 
 
 "Where did she find him?" with a dainty, meaning empha 
 sis upon both pronouns.
 
 204 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "At Weareham." 
 
 "Accidentally?" 
 
 "Treason, conspiracy!" he whispered. "Is he handsome 
 enough for your little ladyship ?" 
 
 "She likes him ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 This had passed under cover of the moving about of lamps, 
 stirring the fire, and a sort of general conversation between the 
 others. Now supper was announced. Mrs. Hurst glanced 
 at the Doctor half distressfully. 
 
 " He was sleeping very tranquilly, and there is no cause for 
 anxiety. However, I will see." 
 
 He sprang up the stairs and down again before they were 
 seated at the table. Sylvia had taken the place next to his. 
 With a word he set Mrs. Hurst's fears at rest. 
 
 Sylvia was opposite Victor. Not a muscle of his face be 
 trayed the slightest consciousness, though she little fancied 
 that he was debating whether it would be prudent to recognize 
 her by and by. He felt somewhat strange in this grand old 
 dining-hall, with these high-bred ladies about him. For Sylvia, 
 whatever her freedoms, carried herself like a little queen. It 
 seemed as if she stood less in awe of Mrs. McRae than did 
 Ruth. And then he wondered how they both came here if 
 it was their home as well ? 
 
 Sylvia and Doctor Trewartha kept up a light skirmishing, 
 Mrs. McRae throwing a heavy shell into the outworks now and 
 then, which had the effect of drawing the combatants closer 
 together for the next few moments. 
 
 Afterward Anah Hurst stole off to her husband. It was like 
 some wild, happy dream to see him lying here amid this lux 
 ury, and to know the poverty he had faced so many years 
 would never be his again. God had opened a door of escape 
 for them all. So she prayed softly, and cried between the 
 broken sentences. 
 
 Mrs. McRae was too tired for her old-fashioned game of
 
 With Fate against Him. 20 5 
 
 piquet ; besides, she was in a speculative mood. Trewartha, 
 with his usual fascinating geniality, caused these young people 
 to assimilate as they would not have done in a month if left 
 to themselves. He made Victor appear at his very best. The 
 reading and thinking of the past two years, desultory as it had 
 been, was not without some fruit. 
 
 Once Trewartha started up. "I really ought to go over to 
 the Cedars," he said. "I dare say Hannah had my supper 
 ready." 
 
 "You will do no such thing, Doctor Trewartha," Mrs. 
 McRae returned, sharply, coming out of her reverie. 

 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "THE whole thing is plain enough, friend Janet," mused 
 Doctor Trewartha, lighting his pipe and settling himself in the 
 great leather-backed chair, after he had retired to his "den." 
 "If a woman has a daughter, or a niece, or a young person 
 of any degree or kind, her thoughts run upon matrimony. 
 She can never let nature or circumstances take their course. 
 And Ruth Gamier " 
 
 He blew out several whiffs of smoke and watched them curl 
 between him and the drowsing fire-light. For seven years 
 Ruth Gamier had lived at Cragness, the daughter of a dead 
 friend left penniless at that early age, but fallen into generous 
 hands. She had been cared for tenderly as a daughter, dressed 
 elegantly, taken into such society as Mrs. McRae frequented 
 the best at Cragness, you might be sure. She had been care 
 fully educated, accomplished in a certain sense. These years 
 had been full of peculiar interest to Mrs. McRae ; but when 
 Ruth Gamier became a woman, the keenest of it began to flag. 
 
 The misfortune of it was, that she was only a woman, a 
 proper, discreet, cool-blooded one, never likely to go out of 
 the beaten paths. A friend and companion, a clear-sighted 
 almoner, a judicious adviser if her counsel was needed ; and 
 having made her thus perfect, Janet McRae's work in this 
 direction seemed to be at a stand-still. 
 
 She had never announced Ruth Gamier as her heir ; but she 
 had once said to Doctor Trewartha " The man who takes her 
 will have no dowerless maiden." She was past nineteen now, 
 not young for her years, but at twenty-five she would be no 
 older.
 
 With Fate against Him. 207 
 
 In hunting up these Hursts, Janet McRae had followed out 
 something more than a whim. 
 
 After the strike at Weareham was well over, one of the least 
 partisan journals of the place had read its lessons in what the 
 editor considered a calm, dispassionate style. The leaders in 
 the matter were severely denounced ; and Victor Hurst, hy 
 reason of his youth and inexperience, was held up as a warn 
 ing. The writer fancied that he knew the case so well. The 
 lawless son of a poor clergyman, who, leaving the religion and 
 conservatism of his father, -had branched out into unbelief, 
 radicalism, and violence, and audaciously placed himself at 
 the head of the movement weak, indeed, when it selected 
 such a champion. 
 
 Janet McRae read the article through. 
 
 "There was an Anah McRae who married a Hurst, a very 
 fair sort of man until he took up preaching. She was a dis 
 tant connection." 
 
 " Hurst is not such an uncommon name," returned Doctor 
 Trewartha. 
 
 "To be sure not." 
 
 The keen blue eyes studied the fallen embers on the hearth, 
 though they saw something else. A helpless, paralytic man, 
 a sad, broken-down woman, and a wayward son who would 
 never be any comfort. She had a great, pitiful nature. Abun 
 dant means had enlarged rather than contracted it, and she 
 thought now that some of her useless thousands that, but for 
 Anah's testy father might have been hers, would perhaps keep 
 them from starving. As for the young man, let him go his own 
 gait to destruction if he so willed. 
 
 She learned that this was the same John Hurst who had mar 
 ried her kinswoman. Then she was seized with an irresistible 
 desire to see them all. The unconfessed longing and ambition 
 of her life had been to have a son ; and it seemed to her even 
 now that this young man might be snatched from ruin if he
 
 208 With Fate against Him. 
 
 should prove worth saving. Before her visit she had made 
 herself acquainted with the main incidents of their lives. 
 
 To Doctor Trewartha the project appeared a crazy one ; but 
 he had in some sense grown to be an elder son to her, and, as 
 she said, her right-hand man. He would as soon have thought 
 of his own mother travelling around in the dead of winter as 
 she ; and though at first he tried to persuade her that the busi 
 ness in New York could wait until pleasanter weather, when he 
 saw how resolute she was, he packed his portmanteau and 
 started, as most of the medical practice was in the hands of 
 Doctor Greaves at the village. 
 
 They had both been a good deal surprised in Victor Hurst. 
 No coarse, illiterate, violent demagogue, to hang around low 
 haunts and incite weaker souls to mutiny. There was some 
 far back reason for his course, Doctor Trewartha felt, but the 
 young man was oddly uncommunicative about all pertaining 
 to his inner life. 
 
 Doctor Trewartha, laughing now in his amused way, 
 saw the end from the beginning. Victor would be master 
 here some day, with Ruth Gamier for wife. 
 
 The broad brow knitted itself into a little frown, as if the 
 current of lazily-flowing blood had met with some minute yet 
 vexing obstruction. Doctor Trewartha possessed a fine phy 
 sique and a noble mind, which might have towered above his 
 compeers, but for the indolent, sensuous temperament. He 
 impressed you by a suggestion of power that he might exert, 
 but somehow never did. He cultivated art a little ; occasion 
 ally took a spasmodic interest in politics, or wrote an odd, 
 daring essay, following out some whim rather than honest 
 theory; and laughed at the world's comments and credulous- 
 ness. For the rest, fortune had showered her best gifts upon 
 him ; and with a liberal income, he could indulge both whims 
 and indolence. Forty years of age now, a widower, with a 
 phantom of a brief married life in the far back years.
 
 With Fate against Him. 209 
 
 Why should he object to any of these arrangements ? True, 
 Janet McRae fancied she kept the latter part of her secret well, 
 and would not be likely to ask any advice upon that point ; 
 but he had seen it in her complacent eyes. He knew of what 
 she persuaded herself. The cool calmness and ripe judgment 
 of Ruth Gamier would hold the impulsive, unequally-balanced 
 nature of Victor Hurst in check ; but what was to stir her to 
 the heights of enthusiasm ? to warm her blood into the cur 
 rent of royal crimson, without which a woman's soul never 
 reaches its true height and capacity ? 
 
 Did some other thought cross his mind ? 
 
 " Pooh !" shaking the ashes out of his pipe, and balancing 
 the amber mouth-piece between his fingers, "why should old 
 blood seek to warm itself with passion-heats? And if she 
 should never know why then the sense of incompleteness 
 could not torture. And what are dreams that in a brief 
 while scorch their way through to gray, bitter ashes !" 
 
 "Yes," he went on, after a long pause, "let him have 
 Cragness : it is his right. And Ruth as well." 
 
 Rain had set in during the night. The air was soft and 
 murky, the clouds seeming to rest on the tree-tops. Yet 
 before the slow dawn there was a stir of busy life about the 
 old house. Victor started when the great bell in the hall rang 
 up the maids and men in the farther wing, and slept no more, 
 but listened to the sounds that reached him indistinctly, trying 
 to realize the change. When he had promised his mother not 
 to refuse any good gift that might be offered, he had hardly 
 imagined one so bountiful ; not that he at all suspected what 
 was so patent to Doctor Trewartha. He had come thither for 
 business, and for his mother's sake. If she should find a true 
 friend and a home until he could make her one, it was all he 
 asked. 
 
 After breakfast they took a ramble around the old house. 
 Spacious rooms, odd nooks, out of the way corners, a great
 
 2io With Fate against Him. 
 
 tower at the end opposite the servants' wing, full of old treas 
 ures or rubbish, and a view from the top that, in clear 
 weather, was unsurpassed. 
 
 Victor's strangeness began to wear off a little. They were 
 all so genial. And it must be confessed that, for the first time 
 in his life, he felt himself of true and near kin to wealth, refine 
 ment, and education. If fate had cast his lot here in the 
 beginning ! But let him keep this fact steadily before him 
 he had come here to work. He had no other right. 
 
 Somehow, at last he found himself alone with Sylvia Red 
 mond. There was a deep recess-window at one end of the 
 long hall, and thinking it a turn, having seen her crimson 
 morning-dress vanish that way a few moments before, he 
 followed. 
 
 She was perched on the sill after the fashion of a kitten. 
 
 "Oh," she exclaimed, with a little laugh, while a rosy color, 
 like a clear dawn, fluttered over the sweet, beguiling face. 
 He flushed deeply, and began to stammer some excuse. 
 
 " Oh, no matter. I was watching those gray-hooded moun 
 tains yonder. How much of the storm they gather in their 
 arms. Shall you like Cragness, think ? It is so much more 
 inviting on a clear day. Or perhaps cities are more to your 
 taste ?" 
 
 "No," briefly, looking out of the window rather than at 
 her; "I have small love for cities. Cragness is a grand old 
 place like its mistress." 
 
 " Your mother and she are cousins?" 
 
 "Not so near kin as that," in his honest, straightforward 
 way. "In fact, the relation is so slight that it gives us no 
 claim. Mrs. McRae offered me employment here, and I 
 came. " 
 
 "Are you going to take charge of the mill ?" 
 
 " I do not know, yet." 
 
 She glanced timidly at him. He had changed, matured 
 since that summer night long ago. And worst of all, he had
 
 With Fate against Him. 2 1 1 
 
 forgotten her. There was a latent coquettish instinct in her 
 nature, and the handsome, imperious face roused it. Could 
 she let him glide over into Miss Garnier's keeping without a 
 word ? At that she bit her lip. What had Janet McRae to do 
 with the disposal of this man's soul ? 
 
 It was only her well-grounded suspicion, and yet it made 
 her as angry as if it had been announced to her as a warning. 
 
 " Where is the quarry ?" he asked, showing that his thoughts 
 flowed in a different channel from hers. 
 
 " Down by the village. But that " 
 
 "But what, Miss Redmond?" with a little confused pride 
 wandering up to his brow as he spoke. 
 
 " You are not going there ? You will not work " pausing 
 abruptly. 
 
 He remembered so well the dainty pride she had displayed 
 in the other interview, the aristocracy of birth and pureness of 
 blood that had been her starting-points. And then she had 
 admired the Gilliats that puny, insolent, unprincipled, puppy. 
 He would let her know that he did not consider himself any 
 thing to her or her kind. There was a great gulf between 
 them, and he had no desire to bridge it over, no feverish wish 
 to become an equal, until he stood fairly on the other side, by 
 his own merit. Even then the dark shadow would throw itself 
 over all the future. No, they could never meet on the same 
 plane. 
 
 This pretty, playful trifling, was a part of her nature. She 
 would have liked him to acknowledge it in the pleasant, defer 
 ential way that most gentlemen did to confess the other meet 
 ing, and admit that he had remembered her. And she also 
 wanted him to feel his importance as possible heir to Cragness. 
 
 "Work !" abruptly, making the lines more tense about his 
 mouth ; "that is what I came to do. As well in a quarry as 
 in a foundry, for aught I see. I have been used to it all my 
 life, so far." 
 
 " But your father was a clergyman, and a "
 
 212 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " Not a gentleman, in your acceptation of the term," almost 
 roughly. "Never rich, plain in his education, going daily 
 among the poor and ignorant, and accustomed to sights and 
 sounds that would shock your fine nerves." 
 
 "But doing God's work," she said, with a sudden heat. 
 " Perhaps in the other country that counts for more than 
 Norman blood." 
 
 He made a sudden sharp gesture of pain, though it looked 
 more like scorn to her. She could not see the anguish that 
 tore his heart. God only knew how glad he would be to come 
 here as John Hurst's lawful and honorable son. 
 
 "The poverty remains about the same, and a poor man 
 must depend upon his own exertions. Besides, I have my 
 parents to care for." 
 
 "But Mrs. McRae " 
 
 "Mrs. McRae has only this much to do with it if I can 
 not find employment here, I must go elsewhere. I shall not 
 presume upon so distant a kinship." 
 
 " But she is very kind. She has assisted those who had no 
 claim upon her. And you " 
 
 " I have none," he interrupted, coldly. 
 
 She glanced in some perplexity at the handsome, irritable, 
 secretive face. Did he mean to make nothing of this tie, but 
 put himself on a level with the workmen at the mill ? And 
 this, when Mrs. McRae had shown him all attention since he 
 came into the house. 
 
 He turned away then. She let him go, vexed with him, 
 vexed with herself, and pained in some dim way that she 
 could not analyze, though her gift was to feel rather than argue. 
 And it was not for her to tell him that he might be the heir if 
 he was so stupid that he could not see. 
 
 Still, she felt as if she had been hurt ; and drawing herself up 
 until her round dimpled chin rested upon her knees, she shed 
 a few childish tears, making no move until she heard a ringing 
 voice floating out of the library, and a step coming nearer.
 
 With Fate against Him. 213 
 
 "Ah, Midge, what are you doing here? Upon my word 
 you have been crying I" 
 
 "I crying !" with a disdainful stretch of the neck, as if she 
 would have made herself a good head taller. " Why, Doctor 
 Trewartha 1" 
 
 He caught her up, gave her an impatient swing that brought ' 
 her face on a level with his, and kissed it. 
 
 "Salt instead of sweet;" shaking his head. "Come to 
 confession, Midge. Are you homesick ? Shall I take you 
 back to cousin Braisted's when I go ?" 
 
 " When will that be ?" with a saucy smile. 
 
 " In about an hour." 
 
 " And you are really going away ?" dolefully. 
 
 " Why not ? Don't you suppose Hannah wants to see me, 
 and Bruno, and Tiff, and the rest ?" 
 
 "But it rains." 
 
 "What of that?" shrugging his shoulders. "Then you 
 will not go ?" 
 
 "Of course not. How foolish of you. As if you did not 
 know that I liked it ever so much better here than at cousin 
 Braisted's. When are you coming back ?" 
 
 " Oh, I shall be over by mid-afternoon. I am to take young 
 Hurst with me." 
 
 "Doctor Trewartha, he is a surly, ungracious bear!" in 
 her most emphatic manner. 
 
 "That is because you are jealous, Midge, and see him 
 with green eyes ;" and he laughed gayly. 
 
 " I don't like him." 
 
 "Then I shall not be put to the trouble of being jealous. 
 There is always some comfort to be extracted from the law of 
 compensation.'' 
 
 Ruth Gamier passing through the hall heard her announce 
 ment, and his reply. She carried them up-stairs to her room 
 while she put fresh flowers in her vase and looked up some fine 
 needlework, and then brought them down again. Trewartha
 
 214 With Fate against Him. 
 
 and Sylvia had settled themselves to a game of chess, as a fare 
 well benizon. 
 
 She studied them vaguely for the first time. She and Sylvia 
 vere so widely different, something besides the integral differ 
 ence of woman and child. She had none of these pretty heats 
 and passions, the quick-coming smiles, the nervous grace, and 
 sweet low laughs. Ah, that made Victor Hurst look up and 
 wince as if it had stung him somewhere. He was younger 
 than Doctor Trewartha, handsomer why had not youth and 
 beauty an affinity for each other ? And suddenly she felt old 
 and gray, as if a chill had come over her whole life. 
 
 "Check !" with a daring, impertinent little laugh. "Doctor 
 Trewartha, you play miserably this morning." 
 
 "I am a month out of practice. There, you cruel girl, 
 take king, queen, pawn, everything. Come, Victor, I hear 
 the pawing and snuffing of our steeds below. Make your 
 adieus hastily." 
 
 Sylvia barely nodded. Mrs. McRae left her great account- 
 book and went out in the hall to charge them to be back by 
 four at the latest. She looked at Victor as he sprang into the 
 wagon, the sleighing had rapidly disappeared through the 
 night. Already she felt proud of him, and a strange nearness 
 was springing up in her heart. Although she still grumbled 
 about his beauty, she smiled as he shook the rain-drops 
 from his shining hair. 
 
 "It is odd where it came from," she said to herself. "They 
 were a hardy, plain, ungraceful race the women barely endur 
 able, and never a handsome man in the lot. Something from 
 the Hurst side," and straightway she felt a little jealous. 
 
 Sylvia turned the leaves of her book discontentedly, looked 
 out at the gray, dismal landscape, and finally found her way 
 up-stairs, where Mrs. Hurst sat keeping her invalid husband 
 company. 
 
 He was none the worse for his journey. Indeed, under 
 Doctor Trewartha's treatment, he certainly had begun to
 
 With Fate against Him. 2 1 5 
 
 improve. His mind was clearer, his memory more distinct, 
 and strength returned slowly. 
 
 Sylvia took a great liking to Mrs. Hurst, and the two gossipped 
 for an hour or more, harmless little interchanges of beliefs, 
 sentiments, with now and then some reference to the past 
 life on one side, and Cragness or Mrs. McRae on the other. 
 
 Supper was ready when the travellers returned. The day 
 had been an era in Victor Hurst's life. Equal companion 
 ship with a man like Doctor Trewartha, stores of art and 
 literature opened before him, bits of science flashing out here 
 and there that, though it made him feel his own ignorance the 
 more keenly, roused him like a strong clang of martial music. 
 He had known nothing like this hitherto. His father's 
 position had not been the one in which such minds are 
 gathered, and the Lowndeses, with their fussy, under-bred 
 pretensions, were positively incapable of appreciating such a 
 gentleman. 
 
 So when he entered the supper-room, erect and manly, his 
 head thrown back a little, his lips half parted with the peculiar 
 satisfaction looking so like a smile, crowned with his bright 
 hair, and the seal of spirit and intelligence upon his broad 
 brow, Janet McRae envied the quiet little woman opposite, 
 longing to go up and throw her arms around his neck and 
 call him son a son of the house indeed. Why had she not 
 thought of the Hursts long ago ? 
 
 She was in wonderful spirits that evening, and kept him by 
 her side most of the ti&e. So Sylvia and Doctor Trewartha 
 played chess and flirted abominably: she in her eager child's 
 fashion, he in the half-fatherly, half-teasing manner so natural 
 to him. For in his mind Sylvia Redmond would always be 
 the little child he had carried through a long and dangerous 
 illness at her cousin Braisted's, while her fashionable mother 
 was enjoying the gay world. And he used to think sometimes 
 if fate had given him just such a daughter never such a 
 wife.
 
 216 With Fate against Him. 
 
 But Ruth Gamier, not knowing that, sat with her calm, 
 white, unmoved face, joining the talk now and then when 
 appealed to by Mrs. McRae, and at others listening to the dull 
 thud, thud in her heart, and wondering for the first time if it 
 was to go on with all that gnawing pain until she were eighty. 
 
 For a week it rained. Sometimes a torrent, at others a 
 drizzle, carrying off at last the muddy remnants of snow from 
 the roads and fields, leaving only a faint line beside the edge 
 of the forest and under the fences. The air had softened to 
 spring mildness, and when the sun came out at last you could 
 almost believe it May. 
 
 That morning Sylvia went home, after urgent entreaties 
 from the three Misses Braisted. Doctor Trewartha settled her 
 snugly in his wagon and wrapped her well with the lap-blanket, 
 that her bright soft dress might not be spattered with the mud. 
 She had kissed Mrs. McRae and Ruth, and nodded carelessly 
 to Victor Hurst. Every day there had been some sharp little 
 contest between them, growing more covert, and perhaps more 
 bitter ; all because he chose to put so wide a distance between 
 them ; all because he had not opened the flower-garden of 
 his heart and let her pluck or despoil as she-chose. Of course 
 that great grim ogress, she had been kissing the firm, soft, 
 and hardly wrinkled cheek not a moment ago meant to 
 marry him to Ruth. 
 
 Well, let them do as they liked. 
 
 "Well," Doctor Trewartha said, when they had gone half 
 their distance, "no tears yet? My j^etty speeches of comfort 
 are fast melting into the chaos of unlimited thought again " 
 
 " W T hy should I cry?" scornfully. 
 
 " It is an old trick of womankind, my dear. I do not like 
 to see you- so much more stoical than the rest of your 
 sex. " 
 
 "You are laughing at me. Well, I am sorry to go away 
 from Mrs. Hurst, she is so sweet and sad, and has had a life 
 full of trials," over which Sylvia sighed. "But the rest"
 
 With Fate against Him. 217 
 
 "Well, the rest? Are you out of Madame Janet's good 
 graces ?" 
 
 There was a peculiar look in Doctor Trewartha's keen, per 
 plexing eyes. 
 
 " I am neither out nor in," with a half indignant emphasis. 
 "They are all so full of their own concerns now," impatiently 
 dragging up the blanket. " He will marry her, of course ;" 
 with a wise and piquant nod. 
 
 "Marry who?" 
 
 " Oh, you see it all, Doctor Trewartha ; I have watched you 
 sometimes studying Miss Garnier's face, it is handsome 
 enough, only it has no soul in it ; and I know you have thought 
 of it you could not help it. She means them to marry. She 
 places them together everywhere. And they are puppets !" with 
 a flush of indignation. " I guessed at the plan before you all 
 came, and told Ruth." 
 
 " What did she say ?" and Trewartha's voice was husky. 
 
 "Say ? nothing. Her slow brain is just like her solid flesh. 
 The one loves ease, comfort, luxury, and the other rarely takes 
 the trouble to think for itself." 
 
 "Midge, I thought you loved her? Do women so under 
 rate their friends ?" 
 
 " I do love her," with a trembling passionate emphasis. " I 
 don't want to underrate her. She is good and tender ; but to 
 like a man at another's bidding " 
 
 "Is a heinous crime." 
 
 Something in his deep tone startled her. She was flushed 
 and nervous, and began picking at her glove-fingers. 
 
 "You fancy she could do this, Midge ?" 
 
 "She will, I know. Well, why should she not out of 
 gratitude ?" 
 
 " And he but you do not like him over well ?" 
 
 She flushed deeper at this, and the drooping lids trembled 
 over her cheek, but she thought her face most calm and 
 reticent. 
 
 10
 
 218 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Well, child," he said, a little sharply, "we have nothing to 
 do with their fates." 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "So let us leave the guessing alone. Mrs. McRae knows 
 her own mind best." 
 
 "But it is patent to every one." 
 
 "Pooh, child!" 
 
 With that he reined up the horse, handed her out, and spent 
 ten minutes in Miss Rachel Braisted's quaint parlor, listening 
 to the low-voiced thee and thou, and the choicely-expressed 
 thanks for his courtesy. 
 
 He let the reins lay loosely over the horse's neck as he went 
 on, dropping his broad shoulders, and allowing his eyes to 
 stray out to the dim distance of the horizon. 
 
 " It is time there came a break in the play for you, Midge ; 
 but after all, yours is only a child's changeful fancy. What is 
 that compared to what might be a man's strong love ?" 
 
 Above, the blue sky was flecked with tiny fleets of white 
 shadows sailing to unknown seas. How calm and tranquil ! 
 If life would flow on like that ! He so liked ease and indolence 
 and pleasant cheer. He liked to go over to Cragness, and have 
 a half-laughing, half-satirical argument with Mrs. McRae, and 
 watch Ruth Gamier budding slowly, like some great white 
 creamy lily. He had promised himself a rare treat in the 
 blossoming. 
 
 "But is it worth the trouble?" he mused. "I should want 
 to rouse the flame, the fine spirit, and why should I torment 
 myself again with passion dreams ? Youth to youth that is 
 best Let her plans prosper."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 VICTOR and Ruth had watched Sylvia's departure, the one 
 with a feeling of relief, the other, pain. During the ten days 
 she had exercised a very peculiar influence over Victor Hurst. 
 She either ignored or had forgotten the past, the latter, he 
 believed ; and she took every opportunity to enforce the distinc 
 tion between them. He, a poor clergyman's son, had small 
 right to aspire to even the merest friendship. She had shown 
 him that. 
 
 And yet how deliciously sweet she had been to the others : 
 to his mother, to his poor father. He could hear her voice 
 now as she had sat singing in the twilight. They all treated 
 her as a pretty, spoiled child ; but to him, she had been a lofty, 
 scornful woman. 
 
 There was a soreness in his heart that led him to exag 
 gerate every little act. Yet his ambition was not all dead. 
 Some day he would stand before her, having won at least one 
 of the great prizes of life. He would ask nothing from her 
 then, only prove that a man without birth or wealth could 
 attain to some height. 
 
 But Ruth, in her slow way, beat her breast mentally, and 
 cried "Why am I so unlike other women ? Why does Doctor 
 Trewartha smile if she but raises her dainty hand, and watch 
 the light coming and going in her eyes, as if it brought tidings 
 from an unseen world ?" 
 
 For she had a consciousness that her eyes never kindled, that 
 her voice never fell into soft inflections, that the pretty, pictur 
 esque turns of head and hand, the trick of smile and blush, 
 were rarely hers. And this was what men liked.
 
 220 With Fate against Him. 
 
 She turned abruptly from the window, hurt and chilled by 
 the revelations of herself. Her habits hitherto had been of 
 external perception and appreciation only, and she had never 
 comprehended hei inner self, or indeed thought of that self or 
 its needs. 
 
 Left alone, Victor Hurst glanced up at Mrs. McRae, who had 
 gone back to her writing. This private account she always 
 kept herself. A thorough, methodical, business woman, who 
 would not rest while anything was left at loose ends. 
 
 He came and stood by her, noted the strong, sinewy frame, 
 the fresh, healthy skin, the mane of white hair which had 
 never been fine, but was still so abundant that she wore no 
 cap, and the long fingers grasping the pen. The writing was 
 like herself, large and clear rather than handsome, and with 
 no tremulous lines such as women of her age usually 
 made. 
 
 She finished the page, glanced up, and said, inquiringly, 
 "Well?" 
 
 He did not tremble now at the sharp ring in her voice, nor 
 the steady look of the keen blue eyes. 
 
 ' ' I want to talk to you. " 
 
 "Sit down, sit down ;" in her commanding way. 
 
 "No, I prefer to stand." He felt more independent there 
 in his full height before her. 
 
 She waited for him to go on. She almost guessed what was 
 in his mind, but he should have no help from her. 
 
 "You remember, when we spoke of my coming, that I 
 that " and he stumbled sadly in his desire not to offend, to 
 be as polite and suave as Doctor Trewartha "that I came to 
 work." 
 
 "But surely a brief holiday can be tolerated?" in a rather 
 softer voice than usual. 
 
 " Mine has not been brief. Since the middle of November 
 I have not done anything." 
 
 She paused to consider, a rare thing with her ; but Trewartha
 
 With 'Fate against Him. 221 
 
 had said, warningly, "Be careful how you proceed, if you are 
 really anxious to attach him to yourself." 
 
 "I have been looking over the mill," he began. " I do not 
 think I am needed there. The business is carried on admirably." 
 
 There was a touch in this that won her ; it was so like 
 appreciation. 
 
 "Yes;" nodding her large, well-shaped head. "Yes, I 
 think I can prove that women possess some administrative 
 talent. You have been round the village ?" 
 
 "Yes. With Doctor Trewartha. " 
 
 "I wanted to take you myself, but I have been so busy, 
 and the roads were wretched, though I did not mind that so 
 much. I pride myself upon that settlement. I have solved 
 some of the difficult questions, I believe ;" with a touch of 
 triumph. " The hands down there are paid fair wages, and get 
 them regularly every Saturday night. Their rents are reason 
 able, their living is not subject to many fluctuations, for a 
 market there is better than one twenty or a hundred miles 
 distant, as I have finally beaten it into our farmers' narrow 
 brains. There is a good school, a church, but no rum 
 shops. " 
 
 "You are right in that respect." 
 
 " Yes," biting the end of her pen-holder reflectively. "The 
 greater part of the misery in the world comes from dram- 
 drinking. I put my foot down there !" and she thrust it out 
 with a forcible gesture. "It leads to idleness, thriftlessness, 
 crime, in both men and women. I have had some cases of 
 insubordination ; but no man stays there unless he can work 
 and behave himself. Then the way is easy enough. There is 
 no poor-house needed, there are no paupers, and yet it is not 
 because the wages are high. The working-classes need just 
 enough. Too much begets extravagance and indolence." 
 
 "It is difficult to tell what is just enough for every one." 
 
 "I think not I think not!" repeating the words \vi h 
 emphasis.
 
 222 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "One man may have sickness, bad luck, loss of employ 
 ment " 
 
 "There is no such here," she interrupted. " I have kept 
 the mill running. two winters when there was no demand, 
 simply that the men might not fall into idle habits, or have 
 an excuse for discontent. If they want to go, they are quite 
 free so to do ; but they shall not stay here and incite others to 
 rebellion." And the blue eyes sparkled with vigorous deter 
 mination. 
 
 "You could do it on a small scale, " he said ; "but you 
 would fail on a larger plan." 
 
 "Fail! And why?" She rapped her knuckles on the 
 edge of the old-fashioned mahogany desk, and her clear cheek 
 flushed. 
 
 "It is not controlling a hundred or two; it's thousands of 
 every kind. A good, steady, sober man may, after all, be an 
 indifferent workman ; and a miserable sot, who will not work 
 more than three days in a week, may be able to do you more 
 real good. You have to allow for such cases. Then in cities 
 rents are high, provisions fluctuate, coal is often very expensive, 
 and the poor crowd in any kind of places where they can find 
 shelter." 
 
 " But why will they all rush to the cities ?" 
 
 Victor smiled oddly, and yet with a little contempt. 
 
 " Because there is work for them to do in cities." 
 
 "There would be as much work in the country if men 
 would stay and do it." 
 
 "I think not. Capital goes where it can find the best invest 
 ment, make the most money on the smallest outlay. How 
 long has your mill been in successful operation ?"* 
 
 ' ' Twelve years since I have managed it alone. It was at 
 loose ends before." 
 
 "And how much money have you made?" 
 
 She was startled a little at the straightforward question 
 
 "I did not set out to make money," sharply.
 
 With Fate against Him. 223 
 
 
 " That is the difference. A man who did not need money 
 
 would not soil his aristocratic fingers with trade ;" a bitter smile 
 playing about his lips. "And the man who means to make 
 it, grinds up everything which comes in his way bodies, souls, 
 wives, and children. They come at his beck when there's 
 plently to do, and at other times half starve, or crowd alms- 
 houses and police-stations." 
 
 "And drink bad rum. They're an improvident, thriftless 
 set. Why, down yonder there's scarcely a man but has a bank 
 account." 
 
 " And in the cities some of them own their houses. They 
 are not all so careless as you think ; but still you cannot have 
 them all cast in the same mould. There's immigration and 
 the continual change the forces working against them hardly 
 balanced by those working for them. And the dull times " 
 
 "Victor," she began, decisively, "there are men in large 
 cities who carry on business at a sacrifice even in dull times." 
 
 "And how?" his cheek flushing. "They cut down wages 
 because they say there is no demand ; and for three or six 
 months .get their work done for two-thirds its value. Then 
 business stirs up, and they are first in the field to reap the 
 advantage." 
 
 "But they kept their men from starving through a long 
 winter, mayhap." 
 
 "Let them call things by their right name, then. Business 
 and sharp practice is one thing, philanthropy another." 
 
 "But it could be made to agree by skilful management." 
 
 She was so proud of her success that she thought she could 
 rule a state. Her keen eyes sparkled with latent vigor. 
 
 "It is a greater question than you think. I once fancied 
 that I could help solve it." 
 
 "And made a miserable flash ;" with a harsh laugh, as if 
 there was something in his discomfiture to enjoy. 
 
 "Yes," wincing and shivering, but trying to bite the color 
 back into his lips. "In our case, it was just as I said. There
 
 224 With Fate against Him. 
 
 
 
 were at least six months' orders on hand, but trade in many 
 places was dull. Norcross could have gone on paying the 
 wages ; and heaven knows it was likely to be a hard winter, with 
 coal and provisions so high. So the employers thought it was 
 their turn, and he joined with the rest. Why shouldn't he ? 
 It was his side," smiling bitterly. 
 
 "And if you men had gone on, waiting till spring ?" 
 
 "The strike would have been successful then. But you 
 forget we did not ask for more only the same. We found 
 it hard enough to manage on that ; at least the men with wives 
 and children did." 
 
 He turned partly away from her now. She ran her eyes 
 briefly over the tall figure, so firm, supple, and graceful ; the 
 purely-cut features, with their strength and beauty, that could 
 never detract from vigor and force, for all the nose was so 
 slender and sensitive, the skin fine and clear as a girl's, the 
 hair silken soft. 
 
 "No," he said, after a moment's perplexity ; "you do not 
 know anything about it. The world, after all, is so great, 
 though the little cycles may be much alike, so much that they 
 deceive one. And we are all so strangely connected. A man 
 raises his hand and puts a whole city in motion ; and his deed 
 for good or evil reacts upon thousands. Our minds are so 
 narrow, and there are many influences that we cannot grasp." 
 
 She saw the dreamy eyes resting on the far blue mountains, 
 with a look in them she could not fathom ; and aught that 
 baffled her keen vision annoyed her. 
 
 "Well," she went on, with a kind of bitter energy, "that 
 part of your life has proved a failure. You'll turn a new leaf 
 here. It is a mystery to me, though, how John Hurst came 
 to put you at a trade. Was it your fancy ?" eyeing him sharply. 
 
 "It was not my fancy no." 
 
 "How then?" . 
 
 "We were poor, of course. If we had been rich " with 
 a vision of Doctor Trewartha before him. "And he did not
 
 With Fate against Him. 225 
 
 exactly know what to do with me. It is hard to look into a 
 soul so unlike your own " 
 
 She thought of the contrast between him and John Hurst, 
 and wanted to believe that the pride of a long line of ancestry 
 had culminated in him : McRae blood, of course. 
 
 " He did the best he knew. I shall always say that for him, 
 now," fiercely, as if some one had challenged the statement. 
 "I suppose I was wild, headstrong, unreasoning. The four 
 years' discipline would be good for me, he thought. So I was 
 put at something my whole soul loathed." 
 
 She saw it in the distended nostrils, where the fine red veins 
 came so suddenly to the surface ; in the firmly-set scarlet 
 mou:h ; the little frown contracting the brows. 
 
 "Well?" She was elated to have him tell the story of his 
 life over to her, for he had hitherto been so reticent. 
 
 "There were some good men in the shop, some who were 
 low and ignorant ; but they made amends in brawn and skill. 
 There was laughing, coarse jesting, songs, and treats. You 
 gave your ten hours' work, amid smoke, and grime, and noise, 
 and felt vilely unclean at night, at least I did : tired in brain 
 and body. The offset to this was a good business at which 
 you could get work when times were brisk and shops not 
 over-crowded. I believe I hated the rabble." 
 
 She always scouted the idea of aristocracy. The McRaes had 
 been plain untitled people, and she was a thorough old demo 
 crat ; yet she liked the flash of pride in the last of the McRaes, 
 the heir of the broad lands. 
 
 " I meant to go away when I was through." 
 
 " Where ? What did you expect to do ?" 
 
 " My mind was not quite clear. I had a friend there 
 well," thrusting down the old phantoms "I could not leave 
 him." Somehow he felt that he should stumble over the word 
 "father" just now, with her hawk's eyes upon him. For 
 though his face was partially turned away, he knew that she 
 was minutely inspecting it. 
 
 10*
 
 226 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "You were a good son in that respect, and I think filial 
 gratitude hardly one of the modern virtues. You will have 
 your reward." 
 
 "He cared for me in my infancy. It is simple payment 
 I mean, not reward." 
 
 She twisted the leaves of her book absently. Ready and 
 straightforward, even to rudeness, as she often was, she hesitated 
 a little here. 
 
 He was thinking over the other miserable failure, the time 
 he had fancied himself a genius, and the bitter awakening. 
 
 "So when I could not have culture, refinement, time for 
 study, and all that ; when I found my place was in the ranks 
 with the others, I made a desperate strike for myself and them, 
 and was worsted. That is all. I am ready to begin anew. I 
 shall not soon quarrel with fate." 
 
 She had a secret misgiving, from the repressed look in his 
 face and the determined closing of the lips, that it was nol all. 
 " I am ready for my work," in a low resolute tone. 
 It was her turn now. She shut the book with an impatient 
 force, as if it had offended her. 
 
 "Victor Hurst," she began, clearing her throat and raising 
 her neck out of the folds of lace that she always wore inside her 
 dress, "I had a purpose in bringing you hither. I think your 
 father made a mistake in choosing a distasteful occupation for 
 you ; but we will not quarrel with that since it has made us 
 friends, or at least been the means of drawing us together. I 
 never had son or daughter, and I believe your mother and 
 myself are the last of a long line." 
 
 A dim fear seized upon Victor, and his heart beat almost to 
 suffocation. 
 
 " I ask you, therefore, to carry on the family name in this 
 old place after I am sleeping down there in the graveyard of 
 the McRaes. " 
 
 His face flushed a deep and painful crimson, and there was 
 a constriction in his throat, as if a serpent were winding its
 
 With Fate against Him. 227 
 
 strangling coils around. A mad, desperate pang at his heart, 
 a fiery heat in every pulse, and a sense of bitter, bitter loss by 
 no fault of his own. 
 
 She misread it for embarrassment, surprise, and gratitude. 
 Rising she laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Yes," she exclaimed, with a touch of emotion, bowing her 
 stately head a little, " be my son as well as hers. I am not 
 given to the frequent asking of favors." 
 
 She had not imagined anything like this. She was to be 
 stately, impressive ; bestow her good gifts with the grandeur of 
 a queen, and have him the grateful, humble recipient. Instead, 
 a strange touch of longing, unfulfilled motherhood, that made 
 her the suppliant as it were. 
 
 For an instant a fierce, passionate tide swept over him a 
 current so strong that he unconsciously bowed his head, while 
 his face turned ashen gray. Oh, if he might take these honors, 
 this home, that he had learned to love already. If there were 
 no vile, hateful stain to mar the past. 
 
 He thrust down the spasm of anguish with a fierce gesture. 
 It was so terrible, so maddening. 
 
 " Oh/' he exclaimed, " why do you ask this ? What do you 
 know of me, to be willing to place that much in a stranger's 
 hands ? Wait. Try me. I may offend in a thousand things. 
 You have been too hasty." 
 
 " Perhaps 1 have," hurt by his abrupt manner, and the utter 
 absence of tenderness or gratitude ; "but I meant to give you 
 the work and duties of a son." 
 
 "I am not ready for them," almost brusquely. "And you 
 trust too easily. I have failed in other undertakings, and I 
 dare not accept such risks. No, I dare not," shaking his tawny 
 mane like a wild beast at bay. 
 
 "We will wait, then," she returned, with a touch of the old 
 sharpness. She was not used to being thwarted and refused in 
 this manner. This young fellow whom she had rescued from 
 and his helpless parents up-stairs
 
 228 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Yet she started at some hidden pain in the tense lines of his 
 face, and the pale, compressed lips, as if a vital chord had 
 been jarred roughly. 
 
 "Try me first," he said, with a hoarse undertone in his 
 voice, and his hands working nervously. "Perhaps I should 
 not be fitted for the life." 
 
 And this when every instinct of his soul cried out for it. 
 Secretly, in the far depths, he cursed the restless rebellion that 
 had been the cause of it all. If he had never known his mother's 
 secret ! If he could stand here and meet Janet McRae's clear 
 eyes as John Hurst's lawful son ! But to come with a base 
 falsehood in his soul, something that the world called shame, 
 and that she would shrink from no, it could not be done. 
 
 "Very well." She cleared her voice angrily, and there was 
 a feverish heat in her eyes. " I received this letter yesterday 
 taking one from her desk "there was some talk of it last 
 summer. If I undertake it there must be a capable and effi 
 cient man placed in charge. There is money in the quarry, I 
 know. " 
 
 He studied the letter. A large Romish church was to be 
 built in the adjoining town, and this being the nearest quarry, 
 as well as containing stone of the required quality, a proposi 
 tion had been forwarded to Mrs. McRae. 
 
 " I am no judge of such matters," briefly ; "but I think I 
 could attend to the business part. Was it a kind of overseer 
 you needed ?" 
 
 "Yes," biting off her word. "There might be something 
 pleasanter. " 
 
 "Few men work for pleasure, I think. I desire to make a 
 home for my parents forgive me, but I do not want them to 
 be a burden on your charity." 
 
 " My charity ?" with a sound of scorn in the voice, " I sup 
 pose I can do what I like with my own ? And who, pray, 
 has a better claim on it than my cousin ?" 
 
 " No one, perhaps, when it comes to that," he replied, with
 
 With Fate against Him. 229 
 
 the bluntness of truth. " It was for her sake that I consented. 
 You have been very kind" his voice faltering over the ache 
 and agony within, the secret wrong and silent endurance 
 "and it is right that I should tell you when I can be spared, 
 I expect to go away. I may be gone years." 
 
 There was a perceptible quiver about her rather heavy lips, 
 that now, when she was vexed, lost the rosy hue of their far back 
 youth. Go away when she had brought him here as a stay for 
 her old age ? Why, how unthankful he was ! 
 
 Yet her usual presence of mind did not desert her even if 
 she had lost her temper. She prided herself upon managing 
 men, and her life had been a series of successes. She was 
 shrewd and discriminating, and in her silent way fathomed 
 many a secret, as if, after all, most secrets were not merely a 
 question of time, and sooner or later cried on the house-tops. 
 Meaning to rule this man's soul in the end, she resigned her 
 self with a semblance of patience now. 
 
 "It is time, then, that we were about this," she said, with 
 her olden briskness. " Laborers must be hunted up, and the 
 whole thing put in working order. You will take the charge?" 
 
 "So far as I am able," bowing his head. 
 
 "I must see Trewartha immediately ;" and ringing the bell, 
 she ordered the carriage. 
 
 He was a little disappointed that she did not ask him to 
 accompany her. He watched her gather up the reins in her 
 strong hand, encased in its fine buckskin driving-glove ; for 
 she had a dainty lady's refinement in some matters. When she 
 was out of sight he went up-stairs to his mother, striving on 
 the way to thrust out of sight all traces of the pain that had so 
 bitterly wrenched his soul. 
 
 The two rooms opened into one another, and made a long, 
 pleasant vista. John Hurst had been drawn to the farthest 
 window, and was looking out in a half-dreamy, vacant way. It 
 was strange to think how much he had softened ; and though 
 he sometimes expressed a little misgiving about accepting all
 
 230 WitJi Fate against Him. 
 
 this luxury when there were so many needy ones in the world, 
 Anah would say 
 
 " I am sure you deserve something for your life of sacrifice 
 and toil. I am glad it has come to you." 
 
 " We deserve nothing but wrath for our sins and unfaithful 
 ness. It is His mercy only." 
 
 Then Anah would wonder how she dared to feel so happy 
 and at ease. Was God more generous than this man had 
 taken Him to be ? She began to think so, now that she was 
 out of the wearing round of poverty and sin, so closely con 
 nected indeed. 
 
 Victor came and spoke gently to his father, who clasped the 
 firm young hand in his so withered and trembling. Now and 
 then some little touch of love almost unmanned his soul. In 
 his unreason and ignorance he had blundered so stupidly. If 
 he could only go back two years ! 
 
 His mother saw the secret significance in his face, and when 
 he went through to his own chamber, followed him. 
 
 They not unfrequently held little confidences here in a low 
 tone, for John Hurst's hearing had failed him perceptibly, and 
 they had a feeling of perfect security within their own apart 
 ments. 
 
 He hurried briefly over Mrs. McRae's proposal. 
 
 "If it could be !" 
 
 There was a little longing and clinging in the mother's heart. 
 It was the pleasant, genial, yet bracing atmosphere that her son 
 needed. He looked like a very prince to her eyes, standing 
 there in his manly beauty. Why must he go down with the 
 hedgersand ditchers of life because she had unwittingly chanced 
 to believe in one man's falsehood ? 
 
 "But it cannot." He took the hand that dropped so help 
 lessly by her side tenderly in his. "It cannot, you know. 
 Peculiar as she is, and little given to respecting many of the 
 world's opinions, still honor is honor with her, and truth 
 truth. I don't know that she would forgive either weakness
 
 With Fate against Him. 231 
 
 or cowardice. Could we stay with our secret told ? and oh, I 
 need not ask you if we could stay with it untold." 
 
 "No;" plucking weakly at his sleeve, a terrified light 
 wavering in her soft dark eyes. 
 
 " It seems as if I had learned so much in a few months ;'' 
 his voice singularly calm and sad. "I thought last summer 
 that I could fight against God and fate ; indeed, I made my 
 self believe there was no God but human will. I know now 
 that there is something stronger." 
 
 "There is, there is !" longing to, and yet unable to explain it. 
 
 "There is something in me that I want to work out when 
 I find a fair chance. No, it's not the painting ;" with a ghostly 
 sort of smile. "Going through Doctor Trewartha's house 
 quenched the last lingering ray of that conceit. I do not envy 
 Lowndes now. Let him glory in his small triumphs. Some 
 day I believe that I shall find a voice for the great dumb ache 
 in my heart. There are many years before me." 
 
 Her eager, devouring eyes assented, for her tongue seemed 
 dry and powerless. 
 
 "I told her that I meant to go away. I will not deceive 
 her into any act of generosity. If I can keep a comfortable 
 home for you while he lives, and study myself a little, it is all I 
 ask now. Then you can go with me or stay " 
 
 " I am your mother;" with a little cry of pain, half smoth 
 ered -in its birth. "I can never forget what I have brought 
 upon you." 
 
 "Hush, dear," taking her in his strong arms, "someday may 
 be we shall see the use of it, though we can only grope among 
 thorns now. I was proud, self-willed, daring, putting my own 
 wisdom above all other, as I told you. Perhaps it was right 
 that this should come upon me, to teach me the better to 
 appreciate his life of sacrifice. I can understand now why he 
 felt it such a sacred duty to watch over me." 
 
 " Yes, he knew what might be feared," in a furtive, anxious 
 way.
 
 232 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "He knew what I inherited. I suppose he saw the devil 
 often " with a short, bitter laugh. " He would not want me 
 to mistake it for an angel ;" remembering how proud he had 
 been of his fine, lofty, restless instincts. 
 
 "He did his best." 
 
 " I believe you and him. A different life might have ren 
 dered him less morbidly conscientious, but he was good, 
 earnest. And we will do our duty to the very end, not like 
 slaves who bear a chain about with them, but from a higher 
 motive. After that, if you elect to share my fate, we will never 
 be separated. It will not be the old, foolish rambling with 
 Paul Latour." 
 
 So God had answered her prayer and given her back her 
 boy ! As if to balance the exquisite thrill, another fear entered 
 her brain. 
 
 " Did you offend Mrs. McRae ? She has been so generous !" 
 with a remorseful strand in her voice. 
 
 "I believe I disappointed her sorely. Mother, when it 
 comes to the last we will tell her the truth. For where we 
 shall go it will be blotted out forever." 
 
 She drew a hard, repressed breath. 
 
 "And if I can make the quarry a success," hopefully. "I 
 mean that she shall lose nothing by us. "
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 JANET McRAE stood by the table in Doctor Trewartha's 
 "study," as Hannah called it; but anyplace that held him 
 long at a time was always a "den" to him. This was a 
 curious conglomeration. An elegant Persian carpet, in the 
 smallest of figures but most gorgeous colors, so strewn with 
 debris of every kind, that here and there a patch of it gleamed 
 out like a stray bird of brilliant kind in the wildness of some 
 rugged mountain slope. 
 
 It was very large, running on the south side the entire 
 length of the house. Quaintly-carved bookcases and mediaeval 
 cabinets curiously inlaid, filled the niches made between the 
 windows. They were packed with a traveller's relics from the 
 weird idols of some long-ago religion, coins, mosaics, cameii 
 ensculptured with gold and ivory, antique bronzes, cups, vases, 
 and gems from unearthed cities, to the illuminated missals and 
 black-letter poems of a later date. Marbles, bronzes, and 
 great Indian vases filled with tropical plants and wide feathery 
 fronds of fern ; cacti in scarlet, pink, and yellow ; here a great 
 circle, like the basin of a fountain, filled with creamy waxen 
 callas and a variety of sedge-grass, growing amid cool, odorous 
 darkness. Pictures of every clime ; plumy tufts of palm, with 
 desert sounds in the distance ; groups of picturesque Arabs, 
 intent upon some story of adventure : each swarthy, eager face a 
 study in itself; smiling lakes and twilights; a fierce storm scene; 
 Spanish vineyards, with their glowing purple bloom, and dark- 
 eyed women, the chill of the snowy Alps, and the drowse of 
 the blue Mediterranean. For weeks you might study them 
 and never tire.
 
 234 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Here the skin of a royal tiger was thrown .over a chair to 
 cushion it, or a pile of pillows improvised into a lounge, glit 
 tering with the gold and yellow of some slain leopard. 
 Brackets made from deer-antlers, grotesque powder-horns, 
 inlaid pistols and trophies of many a wild ramble mingled in 
 almost interminable confusion ; but Doctor Trewartha at his 
 ease among them all. 
 
 "So, you intend to tempt him with a woman?" laughing 
 carelessly, while a kind of dangerous light played around the 
 eyes. 
 
 " I mean that he shall stay. Look you, Trewartha, I begin 
 to feel what it is to have kin of one's own. I like this young 
 fellow for something that I do not believe ever was in Anah 
 McRae or John Hurst. But he is out of place." 
 
 "And you propose to right him ?" twirling a pungent cedar- 
 wood paper-knife between his fingers. 
 
 " His mother has been weak weak ;" with sharp emphasis. 
 "If she chose to give up the refinements and ambitions of life 
 when John Hurst felt called to preach to the outcast and poor, 
 she had no right to make her son's way so bald. I would 
 have fought for him ;" shutting her white strong teeth with a 
 forcible click. " He has something on his mind, some dream 
 or wish that he hardly dares to confess. He shall stay here 
 and work it out. " 
 
 "In the quarry?" with a provoking laugh, stroking his 
 moustache. 
 
 "Let him begin there, since it is his choice," with a resolute 
 nod of the head. 
 
 3 
 
 "And you think these two young people '' 
 
 He paused abruptly, glancing at a bright spot in the carpet. 
 
 " I should like to have them marry !" in her clear, ringing 
 tone. ' ' Ruth has been as a daughter to me, though I would 
 force no one's inclination." 
 
 "Only bias it;" in a dry, humorous manner that went no 
 farther than the surface.
 
 With Fate against Him. 236 
 
 "I could dower her without impoverishing him. Why, the 
 mill down yonder and the village would be a fortune for any 
 girl to bring her husband, and Cragness would hardly miss it. 
 But I would rather have them marry. I have been studying 
 both. He has just the force and daring to stimulate her ; she, 
 the repose, grace, and quiet that such a man needs. What one 
 lacks the other will supply, and make an harmonious, well- 
 balanced couple." 
 
 "And love?" 
 
 You could hardly tell whether it were disbelief or a fine 
 irony in his smooth tone. 
 
 "I think 'blind contact' as much as anything. She has 
 the kind of reserved strength very attractive to such vehement 
 natures, who blaze up and fancy themselves soon burned out 
 to ashes. I shall manage the matter judiciously, give him 
 just enough and not too much of her. And now, Doctor 
 Trewartha, will you help me keep him here ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will do that ;" with a little mental reservation as to 
 the other point. 
 
 "You see he did not fancy Sylvia at all, nor she him, 
 though I was a trifle afraid in the beginning. She is such a 
 child." 
 
 "What is to be done first ?" abruptly. 
 
 " If you would drive over to Taunton and have an interview 
 with this Hensler taking Victor with you " She hated 
 mortally to give it up herself, as business was her delight. 
 "The quarry could be opened immediately. They saw the 
 stone last summer." 
 
 " There is a good deal of money in it." 
 
 "Too much to put into his hands?" 
 
 "I don't know what you would call just enough ;" rather 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "1 want him to feel quite independent, to be able to pro 
 vide for his parents, and indulge in some whims if he chooses. 
 I should like to see the bent of his mind. Perhaps "
 
 236 With Fate against Him. 
 
 reflectively, "I was over hasty. He may have some fault or 
 vice that we know nothing of, and if so, it would come out 
 when he found himself no longer watched." 
 
 " Suppose you let him manage the quarry for half the profits ? 
 They expect to be two years building the church, and school 
 or college. I don't know just what they do mean to make of it 
 a nunnery, I dare say," with a laugh. 
 
 "I should be loth to have my stone go into a nunnery," 
 with a gleam of latent Scotch Presbyterianism in her eye. 
 
 "Pooh ! and you a progressionist! Let our neighbors do 
 PS they like, so long as they keep from interfering with our 
 rights and privileges." 
 
 "You think half would be sufficient?" going back to the 
 business. " And John Hurst may live " 
 
 "Seven years or seven months. At present I incline to the 
 first. " 
 
 ' ' I shall be sure of him long before that ;" nodding her 
 head decisively. 
 
 "You will have him married and his children playing about 
 your knees," he said, in a tone that was soft, yet exceedingly 
 bitter. 
 
 She did not remark it, being preoccupied with the distant 
 vision, and a smile crossed her grim face. 
 
 "Will you return with me?" 
 
 "No. Don't let us look too much like a conspiracy. I 
 think, on the whole, we had better drive to Taunton to-morrow 
 morning. Do you suppose the Hursts will go away?" 
 
 "By themselves?" That startled her. "Well, why not if 
 they want to? There is Denzil's cottage standing empty. 
 Perhaps it would be better, for I do not want him to tire of 
 Ruth. I shall not be the first to propose it, however." 
 
 "I will be over to-morrow." 
 
 " Not this evening ?" 
 
 "Well, yes, this evening." 
 
 He came before that time, however. Victor, restless and ill
 
 With Fate against Him. 237 
 
 at ease, took an afternoon tramp over to the Cedars, and 
 brought Tre\vartha back to tea. Mrs. McRae was in fine 
 spirits, and her sweet-humored mood reacted upon the house 
 hold. She and Doctor Trewartha had a spicy argument or 
 two, over which Victor smiled oddly. * 
 
 Trewartha's wide eyes, that seemed to have the gift of seeing' 
 on all sides, wandered furtively to Ruth Gamier. A sound, 
 healthy-toned woman, with none of the modern sickly nonsense 
 about her, was Janet McRae's boast. Pure, firm flesh, sound, 
 steady nerves, no sitting up at night to study misty transcendent 
 alism, no reading of trashy novels. Books there were in plenty ; 
 stories too, well chosen ; but it must be confessed that Ruth 
 was no great reader. Sylvia perched herself on a window- 
 ledge and galloped through everything, from Froissart down to 
 Idyls of the King, while Ruth was in the kitchen compound 
 ing a choice cake. 
 
 If to be a thorough woman meant a purely domestic animal, 
 Janet McRae had done her work very well. A cook like Ruth 
 Gamier it would have been hard to find. True, she did not 
 spend much of her time in the kitchen now, but on rare 
 occasions she made her influence felt there. 
 
 "Every woman should know enough to order her own 
 house," Mrs. McRae used to repeat, as one of the strongest 
 articles of her creed. " Can you show a servant how to broil 
 a steak, when you do not know how to do it yourself?" 
 
 So Ruth had potatoes and plum-pudding, instead of useless 
 philosophy. And there was needle-work, the unfailing panacea 
 for all feminine ills and discomforts. She possessed a great 
 fancy for it. Embroidery was "perhaps her strongest passion, 
 the same as painting to many a girl. Why, the moss-buds in 
 the work she had finished a little while back were like a touch 
 of nature. You could almost pick them out of their green and 
 sienna-tinted beds. 
 
 There was a good deal beside this. Long walks, that brought 
 the pink to her creamy cheeks, and brightened her eyes ; rides
 
 238 With Fate against Him. 
 
 over hill and dale, with the fresh wind in her face, and pleasant 
 drives rendered the more delightful by Sylvia's society. Calls, 
 visits, small parties, such as christenings, birthdays, or wed 
 dings ; errands of mercy to the sick, and church-going. Not 
 that she mapped out her time in regular order, but somehow 
 it seemed to run in just such grooves. 
 
 So Ruth Gamier, the penniless, well-nigh friendless orphan, 
 had been as much of a success as the mill, the comfortable 
 dwellings, and remunerative work, the clean and orderly village. 
 No wonder, then, Janet McRae was so ready to undertake Victor 
 Hurst. She often fancied that she managed Frank Trewartha. 
 
 He sat watching the two now Victor studying a book of 
 engravings, and she with that everlasting work in her white 
 fingers, which annoyed him. It was tatting now, with a dainty 
 pearl shuttle he had brought it to her from Philadelphia, and 
 now his own gift vexed him. 
 
 A handsome couple they would be, with just about the right 
 difference in age. So far as physical attributes went well and 
 good. The silken, soft, bronze hair, with its hue of sun and 
 inward heats, contrasted well with those dark, heavy braids. The 
 fine, subtle complexion ; the changeful, large-lidded eyes, that 
 made you think of flowers in bloom when he raised them softly, 
 set against those untroubled wells of brown ; the waxen skin, 
 that had more of the calla in its composition than the mimosa 
 For she so rarely blushed, or betrayed any embarrassment. 
 
 Something vexed Trewartha then. The argument which 
 had trilled smoothly over pebbles came to a snag, and his rich, 
 mellow voice grew a trifle sharp. Ruth glanced slowly toward 
 the fire, as if her eyes were groping their way about, and en 
 countered him. ^ 
 
 " I wouldn't give you that," snapping his fingers, angrily, 
 "for a nature that you can measure, and weigh, and define 
 accurately. There always must be something left for circum 
 stances to develop, unless one is an idiot." 
 
 ' ' And I say that, with the proper training, you can predict the
 
 With Fate against Him. 239 
 
 man or the woman from the child. Half of your temperament 
 theory is a farce. When a man commits a sin, call it a sin and 
 punish it, as you would in a child. It is the maudling sensibility 
 miscalled tenderness that makes half the trouble in the world. 
 Some trick of temperament, some latent force acted upon by 
 this peculiar conjunction of circumstances, made the man 
 act as he did. Faugh ! He was a free agent to do what he 
 liked, and he chose crime. It is training that is responsible." 
 
 " And when you have moulded your subjects' nature to that 
 state of perfection ?" with a brilliant satirical, smile. 
 
 "You can count to a certainty upon what they will do. If 
 you sow tares, you would not expect to reap wheat, and if " 
 
 " But some tares generally find their way among the wheat, 
 I have observed " dryly, pushing back his chair. 
 
 Then his eyes met Ruth's. Instead of their usual placid ex 
 pression, there was a forlorn, questioning terror in them. 
 
 ' ' Put up your work, " he said, in his abrupt imperious fashion. 
 "Get the chess-board, and let us have a game before I go. 
 Madame McRae, there is no use in arguing with you. A 
 ring is round that is all. You will never come to an end." 
 
 Ruth played badly. For the first time he fancied the white 
 fingers trembled. Wo.uld that young upstart, deep in the dainty 
 line and stipple of an engraving, ever kiss any color in, them ? 
 
 "There, you are. beaten, Miss Gamier, and it makes me 
 cross as a bear to win arguments, games, and all. Adversity is 
 ever a sweetener of disposition. Now for Black Dick, and a 
 gallop in this keen night air to restore my good temper." 
 
 Mrs. McRae was explaining Ben Lomond, and nodded her 
 good-night with a threatening shake of her long forefinger. 
 Ruth went ouj: to the hall. 
 
 " How odd the place seems without Silvia ! She was quite 
 home-sick when I bade her good-by." 
 
 A flush overspread the calm face so unusual a circumstance 
 that Trewartha started. The thick lids drooped, their long 
 jetty lashes making a shadow sweep over the ch^ek.
 
 240 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "You will see her to-morrow?" in a strangely eager 
 tone. 
 
 "I don't know. Did you wish to send a message ?" 
 
 "I? No that is " 
 
 He faced Ruth for a moment, took her hand, and compelled 
 her to look up, by his own strong personal magnetism. The 
 fingers fairly trembled in his clasp. 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 She heard Black Dick utter his fiery snort as his feet roused 
 clattering echoes from the frozen ground. But there was no 
 change in her face as she took up her neglected tatting. 
 
 Only low in her heart there swept a sudden flood-tide of 
 mysterious life which threatened to break down the barriers that 
 had hitherto confined her soul a half-spiritual, half-physical 
 power of resistance to a vague something that she could not 
 understand, and with it all a sense of powerlessness. 
 
 "She is jealous of Sylvia," mused Trewartha. "Sylvia, 
 whom she loved like a kitten a month ago. And why ? Sylvia 
 and Hurst were rather briery, I thought. What a plan that 
 of Madame Janet's ! Ice and snow ! Yet if she falls into it 
 readily !" 
 
 He began to whistle a gay French chanson heard in a salon 
 years ago, where soft voices and bright faces made a beguiling 
 atmosphere. He was young in those days and had some 
 hot blood in his veins. 
 
 He lingered awhile over the lilies that night. 
 
 "I used to think them like her. Well, they have a rare 
 golden centre, a heart, but how about the soul of both ?" 
 
 Victor and Trewartha set out for Taunton the next morn 
 ing. Mrs. McRae, having her in-door business arranged to her 
 satisfaction, went down to the mill ; while Ruth, being lady of 
 the house, was courteous and attentive to Mrs. Hurst, and 
 ordered the dinner. 
 
 It was dusk of the crisp March day when the travellers 
 returned. Miss Gamier was not called from her work this
 
 With Fate against Him. 241 
 
 evening. Instead of the red and white chess-men there were 
 slips of paper full of figures, estimates, much adding and 
 discussion. 
 
 "It is a solid bed of rock for miles and miles," said Mrs. 
 McRae. "An excellent quality of stone, too; and the carting 
 a mere nothing." 
 
 "Cragness is famous for luck. There was an old copper- 
 mine once somewhere about, and I dare say we shall discover 
 gold at last." 
 
 "Gold is a poor thing for the land in which it is found ;" 
 with a disdainful jerk of her grand head. " We have developed 
 industry, which is far better. The absence of any well- 
 regulated system of labor affords loop-holes for every evil 
 under the sun to creep in and flourish. An indolent com 
 munity will be a miserable one." 
 
 Victor smiled inwardly. He was growing too wise to rush 
 out to battle for any small theory ; and he felt that Mrs. 
 McRae was admirable in many ways. A little narrow, he 
 sometimes fancied, and often dogmatic ; but her labors had 
 certainly borne good fruit. 
 
 " So, I shall turn the quarry over into your hands, young 
 sir, making only one stipulation. There shall be no drunken 
 ness, that curse of the cities." 
 
 " But Hurst's workmen must of necessity be different from 
 yours," explained Trewartha. "They will be rough men 
 from the town, with no families and no flower-gardens to 
 occupy their leisure moments." 
 
 "There's not a pint of liquor to be bought in the village," 
 she returned, testily. " If they bring their rum with them 
 and drink it out of hours, I hardly know how it can be 
 prevented ; but he shall make this rule the first man he 
 finds under the influence of liquor shall be discharged. Tell 
 them that in the beginning." 
 
 "I will," he said, heartily, remembering how his father 
 had fought against the demon of intemperance. 
 
 ii
 
 242 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Janet McRae looked up at Doctor Trewartha in the most 
 beatific triumph. 
 
 "You are rabid Father Matthew crusaders," he said, with a 
 short laugh. "I wish you would come over to the Cedars 
 and take a bottle of wine with me. I have some choice, I 
 assure you." 
 
 "I have undertaken no crusade against you strong-brained 
 people, who have plenty of money to spend, purchase the best 
 always, and can afford to sleep all the morning when you have 
 held an orgie over-night. It is for the poor wretches who 
 starve their wives and children that they may buy vile, poison 
 ous stuff that transforms them into something worse than brute 
 beasts. If I cannot have the Cragness community sober, I'll 
 close the workshops and nail up the cottage-doors. " 
 
 It was her hobby to map out the duties and privileges of 
 those who were in any manner subordinate, and Doctor Tre 
 wartha confessed inwardly that the plan had not worked ill. 
 There were a great many people in the world incapable of 
 leading even themselves. 
 
 In the course of a few days the matter was arranged satis 
 factorily. Victor felt quite elated. 
 
 " I am glad we came," he said to his mother. "There will 
 be an opportunity to make something above our bare living. 
 Mrs. McRae was very generous ; for after I had accepted it 
 for half the profit, she was afraid that would not be enough ; 
 but I am not willing to subject myself to any obligation that 
 may gall me by-and-by. I want to remain quite unfettered." 
 
 "Yes ;" with a little sigh. If it had been different. 
 
 "We are to take the cottage. I thought you would like 
 better to have a home of your own again. It is a pretty, quiet 
 little place ; and here there will be guests coming and going 
 continually." 
 
 "It is much better." 
 
 She spoke the simple truth. Indeed, there had been times 
 when she felt almost stifled with the luxury for which she
 
 With Fate against Him. 243 
 
 could make no return ; and the sense of supervision that clung 
 about her like a shadow. 
 
 As for Victor, he threw himself, heart and soul, into the 
 new life. He was not likely to stint ambition or energy in an 
 interest which promised as much as this. 
 
 He found in Doctor Trewartha a staunch and peculiar 
 friend. His experience in this respect had been rather limited ; 
 and the secret in the depths of his soul disposed him to the 
 cautiousness one hardly expects of youth. But this man was 
 wonderfully fascinating, with his rich, varying moods, his vigor, 
 when he chose to call it to the surface, his brilliancy; and the 
 half-cynical, half-tender vein perplexed and pleased, lured 
 onward, and yet never satisfied. 
 
 By the middle of May they were settled in their new home. 
 Ruth had supervised it with her housewifely instincts. Mrs. 
 Hurst had drawn quite near to the girl during the past month. 
 There was a restful quality in her grave nature, very grateful 
 indeed to the woman who had been so long tried with sharp, 
 irritable nerves and restless brains, and haunted by a tragic 
 under-current. For Ruth had a broad, calm surface, like a 
 fair lake, with no hint of storms. It is true that many of these 
 women go through life without ever having been roused to one 
 magnificent emotion. 
 
 She took a warm interest in the Hursts, partly, perhaps, 
 because she had been bidden so to do ; but there was some 
 thing in the sad matron's gentleness, the hopeless invalidism 
 of the husband, and the energy of the son, that attracted her 
 more strongly than anything hitherto in her uneventful life : 
 quite a new element at Cragness. Somehow she began to 
 feel the burden of the swathing-bands wrapped around her by 
 kind hands of friendship, and there were moments when she 
 longed to tear them off if she but knew where to begin. A 
 new soul was moving upon the face of the waters, troubling it.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THEY were so much engrossed at Cragness, Sylvia Redmond 
 thought, that she was fast dropping out of sight or mind. She 
 had too much vanity to take neglect complacently ; and then 
 the days at cousin Braisted's were monotonous. Even Doctor 
 Trewartha was busy, and Black Dick used to traverse the road 
 with his long, sweeping gallop, just giving his master time to 
 touch his hat to her as he passed. 
 
 And then Victor Hurst was winning golden opinions, becom 
 ing quite a hero. Even Ruth was moved from her self-poise, 
 and admired with an interest quite new to her. The quarry 
 was in successful operation, and a possible fortune hidden in 
 its gray depths. 
 
 This lovely golden June afternoon Sylvia had managed to 
 get away by herself. She came down stairs in her pretty 
 riding costume and her dainty chip hat, with its long white 
 plume, sent a week before with a box full of elegant attire, 
 part of her mother's purchases in New York. 
 
 "I am going to Cragness," she announced to invalid Re 
 becca, who sat placidly knitting. 
 
 Rebecca had a message for friend Janet. Sylvia listened, 
 flicking her pearl-handle whip. Somehow she was not in her 
 usual delightful humor. 
 
 Indeed, she felt cross. Her mother's letter fretted her. 
 She had been sorry to come to this dull little place ; but it 
 was that or school, which she disliked still more. For the 
 frivolous fashionable woman, a faded beauty, yet a favorite 
 with society, had no mind to be troubled with a pretty, wilful 
 girl, until she saw some advantages for her. She wanted hei 
 glories and her ease quite to herselC
 
 With Fate against Him. 246 
 
 But now, when she was not of the slightest account to any 
 one, she told herself that she did not want to go. Every tree 
 suddenly took on a peculiar nearness. Yet there was the sen 
 tence. In about ten days Mrs. Redmond expected to come 
 for her, and promised her a gay summer. Among other gos 
 sip, she wrote "Eustace Gilliat returned in March." 
 
 Six months ago it would have proved unfeigned pleasure. 
 She was no more used to analyzing or reasoning than Ruth 
 Gamier, though her internal processes were so much more 
 rapid. But of late it seemed as if she had not been happy, 
 and was every day drifting farther and farther away. 
 
 Madame McRae and Ruth were out. So then Sylvia felt 
 quite at liberty to ramble about at her own sweet will ; and she 
 turned her pony's head villageward. She would doubtless meet 
 them there. 
 
 She found herself, after a brisk canter, in the vicinity of the 
 quarry ; and though the intervening trees hid the excavation, 
 she heard the steady, monotonous drilling. Obeying the first 
 impulse that swayed her, she bent her course toward the moun 
 tain-side, and wandered slowly round the little ledge, until 
 startled by a sight that brought the quick blood to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Just at her feet, it seemed, was a curious, half-hidden nook, 
 embowered by a thicket of dwarfed pines, and carpeted by 
 rank mosses. A large flat stone was spread out like a desk or 
 table, and before it sat Victor Hurst, his hair thrown back from 
 his wide white brow, and his eyes intent upon something before 
 him a drawing done in crayon, and a block of the gray 
 quarry-stone, at which he was hammering with mallet and 
 chisel. 
 
 Her quick brain took it in at once, and her heart gave an 
 exultant bound. The pony's feet crackled the dry branches, 
 breaking the student's solitude, and he glanced up. She nod 
 ded, with her gay little laugh, elfin and mischievous. 
 
 He scrambled the few articles hurriedly together, and with
 
 246 With Fate against Him. 
 
 two or three swinging bounds reached the level where she stood, 
 flushed, and somewhat confused, saying "Miss Redmond," in 
 his first breath, and then lapsing into an almost ungracious 
 silence. 
 
 He had vexed, tormented, and puzzled her; and with a girl's 
 coquettish instincts, she determined to be even with him. 
 
 "Well, are you not going to invite me to your studio, or can 
 no one enter who does not climb up and down like a deer?" 
 
 "My studio, Miss Redmond?" 
 
 '* I was not aware that we had an artist among us," she went 
 on, with her tormenting coolness, when she saw how it annoyed 
 him. 
 
 He flushed and frowned, biting his firm lips to keep down 
 the sudden passion. 
 
 "You are mistaken, I believe. A man may indulge in 
 some whims, and yet never dream of position." 
 
 "You will have that. You can afford to indulge in 
 whims." 
 
 "I shall have the result of my labor, whatever that 
 may be." 
 
 His steady manner of ignoring all advantages fretted her. 
 Why should he continually abase himself? 
 
 "You will have Cragness," in a clear, sharp tone, glancing 
 keenly at him. 
 
 He stood unmoved, the color in his face not even wavering. 
 
 " You have given your opinion prematurely. I have 
 other plans and but small right. Miss Gamier is better en 
 titled to it." 
 
 " Mrs. McRae carries her intentions plainly, and you are the 
 last of the family." 
 
 "She knows my plans, however." 
 
 Sylvia Redmond paused in her wordy war. Why did they 
 always happen to jar when they met ? Then she said in a softer 
 tone, ' ' I am going away." 
 
 "Going?"
 
 With Fate against Him. . 247 
 
 He checked himself abruptly. What was it to him whether 
 she went or stayed ? Why could not all these people let him 
 work in his own fashion, and not burrow into the secret he was 
 trying to keep out of sight. 
 
 As they stood there facing one another, there was a sharp, 
 ringing report ; a sullen echo among the trees, and a splinter 
 of the rock came crashing through the foliage at their very feet. 
 Miss Redmond's pony gave an alarmed snort, reared, and 
 in another instant would have plunged over theledge ; but a 
 firm hand caught the bridle. 
 
 ' ' Thank you. " There was a little tremble in her voice. 
 "I might have gone down there uninvited, after all," smiling 
 faintly. " I suppose I was rude to you ; but I did not mean to 
 be. Don't remember all these naughty things against me 
 when I am gone." 
 
 Her voice was very sweet. When she was gone ! Far apart 
 as they had been for three months, these months when they had 
 seen each other every few days, still he had fallen into the 
 habit of watching her as one does a rare beautiful picture. 
 Her absence would make a blank. The old unreasoning heat 
 and anger vanished. 
 
 "I shall not be likely to remember what you would wish 
 me to forget ;" in a grave, courteous tone, thinking of the 
 past, as she too thought of it at that moment. 
 
 A sound of high words caught his ear. "If you will 
 excuse me a moment," he said, and bounding over the gray 
 ledges, he took a short cut to the quarry. Fifteen or twenty 
 men were examining the fissure made in the side of the rock. 
 
 "Who lighted that?" he asked, as the voices subsided. 
 
 "I did," was the dogged answer of a short, square-built 
 man nearest him. 
 
 ' ' I told you on Monday, Jarvis, that I was to be here ;" in 
 an authoritative tone. 
 
 "But you weren't. I set 'em off last summer;" rather 
 sullenly.
 
 248 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "That was my order. A shout or a whistle would have 
 summoned me. I was waiting for you to get ready." 
 
 "Well, it's all done," returned Jarvis, crossly. "I blasted 
 rocks while you were a youngster. I guess I know my own 
 business. " 
 
 "And I mine," in a clear, ringing tone. 
 
 The men began to gather their tools from safe distance and 
 survey the fragments strewn around. Jarvis made no further 
 answer, but sitting down, carelessly chipped at a block. 
 
 "Them chaps think they know so much," Jarvis flung out, 
 angrily, when the last footsteps had died away. " Because he's 
 kin of that cranky old woman, he carries himself like a lord. 
 I'd like to teach him a lesson or two." 
 
 Jarvis had been one of the last summer's hands, and clothed 
 with a little authority. At that time there had been no regular 
 rule, and the roughest of the men secretly objected to the new 
 order of things, going so far in one instance as to threaten 
 defection. 
 
 "Very well," Victor Hurst had said. In his heart he 
 hoped Jarvis would keep his word. He had learned consider 
 able about managing men, young as he was. Unfortunately, 
 youth was the crime in their eyes. 
 
 He strode back to Sylvia, in a less amiable mood. 
 
 "They were blasting," she said. "Did any accident 
 happen." 
 
 "No." Then, as it was rather awkward standing there, he 
 asked if she would like to see what they had done. 
 
 She turned her horse and led him slowly down the narrow 
 path to the road, where they soon came to the debris. She 
 looked at the rent, perforated here and there by the slender holes 
 drilled for the fuse, the masses of rock, the great, cavernous 
 entrance. It was like hewing away a mountain. 
 
 While the talk flowed on pleasantly, he was thinking of the 
 secret she held. A laughing word to Trewartha, a careless 
 one to Mrs. McRae, would bring his hidden plans to light. If
 
 With Fate against Him. 249 
 
 he failed here as he had in the painting and a flush of morti 
 fication overspread his brow better that these friends should 
 know nothing of it. But how to insure her silence? 
 
 They came back presently. When she saw the path he was 
 taking, she stopped. 
 
 "You need not go;" with a little gasp. "I am ashamed 
 of my impertinence, and I have no foolish curiosity. Your 
 plans are your own, as you have said. I think you capable of 
 working them through, whatever they may be." 
 
 Her clear, serious words were so different from Miss Lown- 
 des ? extravagant praise, that it gave him courage. 
 
 Perhaps she was a little disappointed when he turned. 
 There really was no use in betraying that crude work, he 
 thought. The time to surprise her had not come. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I am obliged for your faith in me, 
 though I may never do anything to deserve it." 
 
 " I believe you will. But why not take the help that is 
 proffered ?" 
 
 "Because I had rather work my way. Will you stop at 
 the cottage?" he asked, suddenly changing his tone. "My 
 mother was wondering yesterday why you did not come. And 
 if you are going away I am at liberty now to escort you ;" 
 smiling. 
 
 The shimmering radiance of the late sun fluttered in great 
 hazy waves over the swaying meadows and fields of grain. 
 The still air was fragrant with summer smells distant honey 
 suckle, and wild grape, and the spice of growing woodlands. 
 But she was in no mood to note the beauty or mysterious ten 
 derness of nature. 
 
 She was going away. There would be a fair field for Ruth 
 Gamier, backed by these broad lands, and Mrs. McRae's in 
 fluence. Of course it would be so. She could see the end 
 from the beginning, and they had all made it plain enough. 
 To be sure, he was proud ; but then the current we uld prove 
 too strong, and in the end he would yield. She strangled a little 
 
 ii*
 
 25o With Fate against Him. 
 
 sigh in her throat with a bitter, bitter pang. For she seemed 
 to be drifting into utter loneliness. 
 
 Ruth Gamier sat on the porch in her flowing white irobes, 
 with a deep red rose at her throat, making the white neck 
 whiter. Mr. Hurst's chair had been wheeled out of doors, 
 and she was beside it, talking in her calm, pleasant fashion. 
 So they had given her a daughter's place already. 
 
 Mrs. Hurst came out to welcome Sylvia. The lips she 
 kissed were cold, for all their summer redness. Ruth nodded 
 cordially, but remained to finish her sentence. The girl's 
 quick eyes took in Mr. Hurst's fatherly smile, and a pang tore 
 her soul. 
 
 "You are such a rare visitor," Mrs. Hurst was saying. 
 "The night will be fine, so you can hardly refuse to take a 
 social cup of tea with us. And Ruth being here, too " 
 
 With that she glanced at Victor. 
 
 " I will see that she reaches her cousin's in safety," he made 
 answer, bowing. 
 
 No one cared very much about her staying. They were all 
 happy enough without her. How miserably lonely she was in 
 this wide, dreary world. 
 
 " I am not quite in visiting costume," with a short, unmusical 
 laugh, that caused Victor to turn and study her for a moment. 
 
 "Oh, that will make no difference. You are always a little 
 picture in anything," and Mrs. Hurst's sweet, cordial smile 
 went to her heart. 
 
 He went round to the other side, pretending to examine a 
 buckle. " Are you still offended with me ?" he asked. 
 
 " Miss Gamier, come and persuade Sylvia, "said Mrs. Hurst, 
 taking a step farther away, and Sylvia seeing the advantage, 
 bent her head to reply. 
 
 "Why should I be ?" 
 
 " I don't know. If the confidence is worth giving, if it was 
 anything beyond a crude idea and yet you have my 
 secret."
 
 With Fate against Him. 25 1 
 
 She did not know how to translate the hesitation, the voice 
 that seemed to waver between friendliness and stem self-control. 
 
 "Since I surprised it, Mr. Hurst, it can hardly be called a 
 pleasant or honorable knowledge. It will be like the things 
 that are not, to me." 
 
 After all, she really did not care. It was but a girlish tri 
 umph. And yet, studying the child's face, he found a deeper 
 meaning in it, a strange sympathetic soul, if one might be sure 
 of the right key. 
 
 Ruth came and kissed her, and the two voices were joined 
 in pleading. She was frightened at herself, when she found 
 she was actually drifting into a dull dislike of her friend whom 
 she had loved only a brief while ago. And then Trewartha's 
 strong, stirring voice broke up the reign of womanly softness 
 
 Mrs. McRae determined that her stubborn heir-elect should 
 not lose caste with high or low if she could prevent it. The 
 cottage had been furnished to her own fancy, and she had 
 parted with one of her best servants bribed her to go indeed. 
 But the Hursts lived in their own quiet fashion for all that. 
 
 They made Sylvia dismount and remain to supper. Trewar- 
 tha having Black Dick, was Sylvia's escort afterward ; but he 
 found the poor child strangely dull. He could not rouse her 
 into sharp, petulant answers. Victor drove Ruth home in the 
 carriage which Mrs. McRae had insisted should be at Mr. 
 Hurst's disposal whenever he was able to be taken out. She 
 smiled benignantly at the success of these small schemes that 
 she fancied no one read. 
 
 The days flew rapidly to Sylvia Redmond. For the follow 
 ing week she had no opportunity to steal even one solitary 
 ramble ; and then her mother came down in state, making 
 quite a stir in the simple Quaker home. 
 
 A faded beauty, as I said, irritable in temper, and with the 
 nerves that are some women's continual boast. You could always 
 tell her by her fan, and handkerchiefs, and scent-bottles, with 
 which she filled every table or stand within her reach. Sylvia
 
 252 With Fate against Him. 
 
 thought her a good deal changed. There was a restless light 
 in her pale eyes, a flutter of apprehension about her, as if she 
 were on the continual look-out for some impending danger. 
 Or was it because she had become so used to these healthy- 
 toned people, who were a mental tonic in themselves ? 
 
 "Our plans have been altered somewhat," she announced 
 to Sylvia, depositing herself carefully upon her daughter's bed 
 in lieu of a sofa, and fanning languidly. "Mrs. Gilliat is 
 much worse. The Doctor has ordered perfect quiet and 
 mountain air. They have come to try St. Albans." 
 
 "St. Albans! Why it is only " and Sylvia's heart beat 
 guiltily with a thrill of pleasure. 
 
 "A resort for invalids. I know that well enough ;" in a 
 querulous tone. "I need something more exciting, but it was 
 my dear friend, and I consented. Eustace is with his 
 mother ;" eyeing her daughter sharply. 
 
 But Sylvia was thinking of the distance only, or rather the 
 nearness. Why, she could almost see the little nest in the range 
 of mountains yonder. Years ago some one had built a great 
 roomy hotel, thinking to make it a famous resort for health- 
 seekers; but it had rather languished and become a rendezvous 
 for tourists, travelling artists, and the like. There was a spring 
 of remarkable mineral water, and the pure bracing air was 
 enough of itself to restore the most hopeless invalid. And 
 then she would not be altogether deprived of her old friends. 
 Doctor Trewartha and Ruth would surely come. 
 
 " I promised to bring you back with me this week. Get out 
 your clothes, Sylvia, and see if you have anything to wear. I 
 suppose there is no one here who could even tie a sash fit to 
 be seen. We shall have to depend upon Stella." 
 
 Sylvia obeyed dutifully. "I am sure there is enough to last 
 me seven years, mamma," she said. 
 
 "Seven years!" pettishly. "Little you know about it, 
 child." I have some beautiful lawns and grenadines yet uncut, 
 but I don't know what I'm to do if Stella sews all the time
 
 With Fate against Him. 263 
 
 Those white dresses look beautifully. What a laundress cousin 
 Rachel must have. And after all I believe young girls look 
 as well in white as in anything else. Sylvia, hand me that 
 bottle on the dressing-table. My poor head 1 It aches fear 
 fully." 
 
 Sylvia poured a little of the perfumed water on a handker 
 chief, and would have bathed her mother's face, but that lady's 
 complexion was too sacred a thing to be tampered with. 
 
 " Don't be so officious, child ! I certainly do not care to be 
 deluged. You have no regard whatever for my nerves. When 
 you have gone through with as much as I have, you will learn 
 to be more delicate, I hope. If I had known when I was at 
 your age that a woman's whole life depends upon the kind of 
 marriage she makes " 
 
 Sylvia colored a trifle at the scrutiny. 
 
 "Yes, marriage is a matter of great importance. Eustace 
 asked me if I had kept his little wife safe for him, Sylvia." 
 
 " Mamma, that was nonsense, childish nonsense," and a 
 scarlet heat flushed the young girl's face. 
 
 " Nonsense for a man to remember ? You are very ungrate 
 ful, Sylvia ;" and the mother sighed. 
 
 She made no reply. There had been a time when Eustace 
 Gilliat was a sort of hero to her, though it was more the 
 family prestige and her admiration for his father than any real 
 fancy for the boy. 
 
 " Has there been any society here this winter?" Mrs. Red 
 mond asked, sharply. 
 
 "I thought it quite dull at first ; then I found Doctor Tre- 
 wartha entertaining." 
 
 " He is old enough to be your father." 
 
 Mrs. Redmond silently studied her daughter. A fair, 
 sweet girl, with beauty enough for almost any man's fancy. 
 She had resolved to have her marry well ; if possible, to be 
 come Mrs. Gilliat. She had a longing to queen it in that old 
 house herself, in a position different from that of a guest. She
 
 264 With Fate against Him. 
 
 had skilfully fanned Eustace's weak liking into quite a desire. 
 There were no rivals at St. Albans, and if he would only stay. 
 But she must lose no time in presenting Sylvia, for already 
 the child began to have some opinions of her own. 
 
 With the aid of Stella, her maid, Mrs. Redmond summoned 
 sufficient energy to get her daughter ready in the course of the 
 next two days. Doctor Trewartha made a friendly call, but 
 his manner was most fatherly and unexceptionable. Mrs. 
 McRae and Ruth paid their respects to Sylvia's mother, also. 
 
 "That terrible woman !" and Mrs. Redmond fanned as if 
 to clear the air. "So loud-voiced and man-like, and in such 
 absolutely coarse health. A person of her age, too ; but it is 
 in the blood, I suppose, in the blood." 
 
 Sylvia started. Somehow it seemed as if the whole current 
 of her life and belief had changed. How had she learned 
 to look deeper than the surface ; to send down quick, earnest 
 glances that challenged the souls she met ; to discern the 
 weak, false, and meretricious, from the brave and true? A 
 man or woman who worked out life in noble actions, like 
 Mrs. McRae, or any other brave, fearless soul, was nobler, 
 after all, than any puny being, backed by a long line of ances 
 try. Had a taint of radicalism crept into her brain ? 
 
 "Poor child, poor Sylvia," exclaimed Mrs. McRae, "she 
 has outgrown her foolish mother, and that is a hard thing 
 when one would fain reverence. I felt like taking her in my 
 arms and bringing her to Cragness for all time. But I sup 
 pose her happy childhood will come to an end shortly. Thank 
 God that I have no daughters to sacrifice to Dagon." 
 
 If Sylvia had indulged in a frantic hope of a reprieve at 
 ihe last moment, she was doomed to disappointment. The 
 day was cloudless, the dresses in order, the carriage not a 
 moment behindhand. 
 
 They passed down the road by the quarry. Victor Hurst 
 and Trewartha stood talking, and both bowed. 
 
 "Who is that young man, Sylvia?" her mother asked.
 
 With Fate against Him. 255 
 
 "A connection of Mrs. McRae's. He has taken charge of 
 the quarry, and " 
 
 "That is enough," decisively. "That woman's blood 
 would taint anything for me." 
 
 A chill crept over Sylvia as she relapsed into silence. 
 
 She had no keener eyes to-day for the beautiful road than 
 her mother. Winding around the lofty hills bathed in pur 
 ple splendor, passing narrow defiles where the wind swept 
 through with the sad undertone of the sea, masses of rock 
 tumbled together in great crags, veined with what seemed both 
 silver and gold, and now and then a glimpse of the river, 
 blue in its shaded depths as the sky above. But she did not 
 see these grand shifting pictures ; and all she could think of 
 was some poor wretch going to a dreaded fate : something 
 which turned her cold and sick. 
 
 It was almost dusk when they entered St. Albans, a tiny, 
 quaint old town, perched on a level plateau between two 
 mountains, while a host of smaller hills seemed to lie sleeping 
 at its feet. For the last hour Mrs. Redmond had been exceed 
 ingly irritable ; and Sylvia was glad to hear a pleasant voice. 
 
 "So you have brought her back our little Sylvia;" and 
 she felt her hand taken in a gracious clasp. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gilliat!" 
 
 " We are glad to see you again, my child, very glad ;" and 
 yet it appeared to Sylvia there was a touch of pain and weari 
 ness in the tone that she had never discerned there before. 
 
 For all her complaints and fatigue, Mrs. Redmond under 
 went a somewhat elaborate dressing at the hands of her tire 
 woman. Mrs. Gilliat's prestige had gathered a number of 
 notabilities at St. Albans, and this weak, foolish creature wished 
 to shine among them it would always be the ambition of her 
 vapid, narrow life. And now was added to it the zest of marry 
 ing her daughter. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat was lounging in the spacious parlor as they 
 entered. To Sylvia he looked weaker and more effeminate
 
 256 With Fate against Him. 
 
 than ever before, and something else that she discerned but 
 could not reduce to words. The faded eyes were vicious, the 
 mouth cruel and sensual, the drawling tone seemed to rasp 
 every nerve. And when she contrasted him with such men as 
 Trewartha and Victor Hurst, a shiver of disgust ran over 
 her. 
 
 Not a son to be proud of, was Eustace Gilliat. He appeared 
 to have set at defiance all the laws and salient peculiarkies of 
 his long line of ancestry. The strength, manliness, and beauty 
 which had been a distinctive feature in them for generations, 
 failed to catch the subtile trick here. Perhaps the blood was 
 effete, worn out, or in some mysterious manner the father had 
 failed to give the son his own physical vitality, as well as mental 
 power. Or going still farther back, there might be some hid 
 den but avenging curse. 
 
 He had been recently expelled from a German university ; 
 and his father had paid his gambling debts, that were a serious 
 matter even to the Gilliat income. It could not be said that 
 fate had exactly prospered him. True, he had held positions 
 of trust and honor, his wife had won admiration abroad and at 
 home ; but now she was suffering from a hopeless and incur 
 able disease, and his son disappointed him at every turn. He 
 had grown sensitive to a point of irritability ; and though he 
 strove to be the light-hearted, gracious gentleman of past days, 
 in his soul he knew every step was a wretched failure.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " IN one light the case is hopeless. It is organic disease of 
 long standing. You asked me for the truth, Mr. Gilliat, and 
 under such circumstances, I always give a man or a woman a 
 truthful answer." 
 
 "But she is so much improved. Your skill has worked 
 wonders. I wish we had known you before, Doctor Tre- 
 wartha." 
 
 Trewartha gave a short, rather incredulous laugh. 
 
 "If we doctors could do everything, the laws that govern 
 the universe would be set aside. And if we could rule our 
 patients' habits, thoughts, emotions, and temper, we might add 
 fifty years to their lives ; perhaps a hundred, who knows?" 
 The genial ring Sylvia loved so well coming back to his voice. 
 "The air and quiet are wonderfully in Mrs. Gilliat's favor. I 
 should think she had been deeply worried and perplexed be 
 fore the last attack ; and she was just in a situation to rally 
 when I came, so I will not take undue credit. She may live 
 years, but she must keep her mind tranquil, use no violent 
 physical exertion, and above all things, not to be thwarted or 
 opposed. The person who rouses her to any strong excite 
 ment would be guilty of her murder." 
 
 Doctor Trewartha uttered the last sentence strongly and 
 clearly. 
 
 "We shall all take the best of care of her," in a tremulous 
 voice. 
 
 "She needs that, and cheerful companionship. Many peo 
 ple now-a-days hold their lives in their hands; it has become 
 something more serious than a figure of speech. But by ob 
 serving these rules, it is possible for her to live years longer."
 
 258 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Sylvia Redmond* was pacing the long balcony outside, and 
 the sound came through the open windows, though the voices 
 were not raised. One sentence rang in her ears like the sound 
 of a booming gun at sea when a ship is in danger. So she 
 waited for the agile step, and strong, heartsome figure, whose 
 very words were fraught with life and death, and filled her with 
 a strange awe. 
 
 "Ha, Midge!" and he put out his hand; surveying her 
 with critical eyes. 
 
 ' ' Is it true what you said about Mrs. Gilliat that a person 
 who roused her would be guilty of her murder?" 
 
 Her lips were white and tremulous. 
 
 " True as death itself, which never fails us, but is sure to 
 come sooner or later. But there is nothing in it that need 
 concern you, child. I gave the advice for others. She has 
 been a magnificent woman, and her day has hardly declined. 
 It vexes me to see men and women living out only half of 
 their appointed time." 
 
 Sylvia was silent. If she dared to tell him how this con 
 cerned her. to ask him what she must do with all this weight 
 of misery crushing her to the earth. 
 
 " How you have changed, Midge. I can hardly realize that 
 this is the wild, petulant little girl of three months ago. Why, 
 you are a stylish, fashionable woman." 
 
 He guessed it from the hard lines he mis-read in her face, 
 from the almost haughty carriage of the head and the certain 
 aplomb society gives to those who are easily trained. Her 
 tight-fitting mauve silk made her look older, and the set, firm 
 expression heightened the peculiar grace surrounding her. 
 
 "Yes, I am a fashionable woman. I seem to have left 
 girlhood a long way behind." 
 
 " More's the pity, Midge; but young things like you never 
 know how sacred it is." 
 
 He was watching her with a half pity, very hard to take 
 from him.
 
 With Fate against Him. 269 
 
 " We come to other knowledge so soon. They are all well 
 at Cragness?" 
 
 " Miserably healthy," with a laugh. "It is worth nearing 
 seventy to be such a woman as Mrs. McRae." 
 
 " A pattern to which I cannot hope to attain," sharply. 
 " There is none of it in our blood, I think." 
 
 He saw the vision of her fretful, faded mother the rich 
 blood converted into prickly, restless nerves ; yet, when she was 
 young she might have been another blooming Sylvia. 
 
 "I wish I could take you over to Cragness," he said, dis 
 satisfied with the haunting look in her eyes. 
 
 "But you cannot. I have new duties. All my life has 
 changed, I think." 
 
 Mrs. Redmond came down the balcony with her languishing 
 air, fan and scent-bottle in hand. 
 
 "My darling Sylvia, Mrs. Gilliat has been asking for you. 
 If Doctor Trewartha will excuse you. How wonderfully our 
 dear invalid has improved, Doctor." 
 
 Sylvia Redmond turned without glancing up. He fancied 
 he knew women so well that he hardly thought this one was 
 going to any doom, while in her soul she heard the crunch of 
 the keel on the ragged black rocks, but uttered no cry. Was 
 it worth while to struggle ? Was not life itself a mocking, 
 blind mischance a sea on which the poor puppets were 
 hurried hither and thither? 
 
 Mrs. Gilliat, in an elegant morning robe, sat on the sofa, a 
 few books, papers, and a handful of flowers scattered on the 
 one side, while at the other a vacant space, to which she 
 motioned Sylvia, studying her intently. The child certainly 
 had grace and beauty, and a bright, cheerful disposition, unlike 
 her mother's, yet not strong. A tender, sweet, pliable nature. 
 She had always liked her, though in the old days Eustace's 
 term of "little wife" had not been altogether sweet to her 
 ears. But whatever ambitious dreams she might have had for 
 her son were at an end now.
 
 260 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Sit down, my dear;" in the caressing tone rarely used by 
 her, but which was full of subtile fascination. " I am so much 
 better this morning that I thought I might indulge in a long 
 talk with you. Let me pin this cluster of heliotrope on your 
 bosom. There, I like its pungent odor so much, and its 
 dark beauty. You are a little too pale, Sylvia." 
 
 "I went to walk " flushing a trifle. 
 
 "That is better. Sylvia, during the past fortnight I have 
 envied your mother. I wish I had a daughter." 
 
 Her arm stole softly around Sylvia's waist, while the young 
 girl tried hard to steady every shrinking nerve. 
 
 "And I think I might have. Sylvia, your mother can spare 
 you better than I. Eustace has confessed to me his wishes " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Gilliat !" with a little cry, burying her face on 
 the other's bosom. 
 
 " My darling, I am so glad. I told Eustace it was only a 
 girl's natural shyness. Sylvia, you have his whole life in your 
 hands. He has been a little wild and extravagant, but it is 
 like young men. You can charm him with your winsome 
 graces, and wean him from careless habits. To me you will 
 be very dear. " 
 
 Sylvia Redmond gave a great gasp. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Gilliat, hear me ! I do not love Eustace as a 
 wife should. I am afraid " 
 
 "That is quite natural, child. The old playful friendship 
 has been outgrown, and this new regard taking its place is a 
 little strange. But Eustace is very much in earnest. I tremble 
 to have him disappointed. Think, Sylvia, a word might send 
 him back into the old reckless courses. He is so much to 
 me, so much. I would do anything to save him. It seems 
 now as if it was all in your hands." 
 
 She began to tremble violently. She ha.l but spoken the 
 truth when she said her son was dear to h^r. With all his 
 faults and vices, and the fatal deficiencies in his nature, he was 
 the one thing she had bequeathed to Rothermel, all that would
 
 With Fate against Him. 261 
 
 be left of her when she lay in the grave. If he and his chil 
 dren could reign there when Kirke Gilliat had forgotten her ! 
 
 The words rang in Sylvia's ears like the stern sentence of a 
 judge "guilty of murder !" Her tortured self-consciousness 
 exaggerated the power she might exert, and like some poor 
 goaded animal she turned hither and thither for an avenue of' 
 escape, finding them all closed. 
 
 " Only give me time," she cried. 
 
 "Yes, dear," in a voice so gentle that Beatrice Gilliat hardly 
 recognized herself. "Only, Sylvia, it was not because but 
 you dont love Doctor Trewartha, child ?" hysterically. 
 
 "No, no;" beginning to chafe the cold hands, through 
 which, now and then, ran a shiver of flame, and watching the 
 blue lines that crept slowly about the tremulous mouth. 
 
 "There has been no one else " her eyes distending with 
 nervous excitement. 
 
 " I do not love any one in that way, I think," with slow, pain 
 ful reflection, meaning to tell the exact truth and believing that 
 she had. For Victor Hurst had never smiled into her eyes 
 with any longing, or held her hand with soft, fond clasp. No, 
 they were nothing to each other. 
 
 "I don't see any difficulty, then, child ;" with a weak, hollow 
 laugh. "You only want time to become accustomed to the 
 new idea. It is a curse for a woman to love first that is a 
 man's place ; and when she usurps or falls into it unwarily, 
 she pays the price in bitterness of soul. I tell you this ;" her 
 voice growing thin and shrill with some old remembrance. 
 "You are both young and have a pleasant life before you. 
 Sylvia, wher I am gone you will be mistress of Rothermel. It 
 is a grand old place." 
 
 But Sylvia shuddered. "Do not talk of that," she said, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " I was thinking of it through the night I sleep so little 
 now. How you and Eustace would be there, and your chil 
 dren. I wish there had been others besides him. One is the
 
 262 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Gilliat heritage or curse. I fancy the years will improve him 
 it generally does men, my dear, who find a good, sweet, 
 patient wife. You will be that, I know." 
 
 "Be tranquil, dear Mrs. Gilliat," entreated Sylvia, for now 
 the pulses were bounding like fiery steeds. 
 
 "Oh, my heart!" She threw her head back with a gasp, 
 and her face wore the waxen whiteness of death. 
 
 Sylvia's first impulse was to scream for help, but she stifled 
 the cry that rose to her lips. 
 
 "What can I do?" chafing the cold face with her soft 
 hands. 
 
 "That little vial five drops a wine-glass of water." 
 
 Sylvia was but an instant in preparing it, and held it to the 
 chattering lips. 
 
 " How quick and quiet you are, little nurse," with a faint, 
 returning smile. "Promise me, child; it may not be for 
 long." 
 
 ' ' Yes, " in a hoarse whisper, as if it were better to murder 
 her own soul than this woman's body. 
 
 ' ' Bring me that pillow, please. I was foolish to be so weak 
 when the Doctor warned me. 'No excitement/ he said. But 
 it was so much to me." 
 
 "Perhaps I had better call the nurse," Sylvia exclaimed, 
 trembling in every limb. 
 
 "No, let us keep our little secret;" with a wan smile. 
 "Your Doctor Trewartha would scold me soundly if he 
 knew it. What a bear he is at times ! Here, hold my hand. 
 I like to have you near me." 
 
 She seemed to drowse after that. Madelon coming in, 
 smiled and nodded her head over her mistress's tranquillity. 
 Sylvia sat like a stone. Fate had girt her in on every side. 
 
 But when they would have congratulated her, she said 
 "Give me a month of freedom that I may the better know my 
 own mind." 
 
 "Sylvia, you are a weak fool !" her mother replied, angrily.
 
 With Fate against Him. 263 
 
 "Any other girl would jump at the chance of being mistress 
 at Rothermel. And Mrs. Gilliat is so fond of you." 
 
 But Mr. Gilliat only folded his hands over her fair head, and 
 murmured, "My little girl: my little girl : God bless you !" 
 
 When Eustace Gilliat's debts had been paid, and himself 
 forgiven through his mother's intervention, who resolutely 
 believed him no worse than other young men, he had come 
 to St. Albans because he could not see his way clear to go 
 anywhere else. He brought his beautiful trotters and his 
 choice wines, that had cost him a small fortune abroad; installed 
 himself in two rooms on the farther side of the spacious 
 hotel, and grumbled to his man, a keen, profligate French 
 valet. Miss Redmond he voted a bore. 
 
 "A silly little fool!" he said. "But since there's such a 
 scarcity of women here, she will be better than none." 
 
 For he considered himself an excellent judge of horses, 
 wines, and women, young as he was ; and, to do him justice, 
 he had had considerable experience with all three. The fine 
 wrinkles in his colorless face, and the blase look in his eyes, 
 told their own story of dissipation. 
 
 So he prepared himself for a desperate flirtation with "little 
 Sylvia." Nearly two years had elapsed since their last meet 
 ing. But he found her so different from the child of his chance 
 dreams, the Sylvia who had run wild about Rothermel, admir 
 ing everything and everybody, and listening with interest to 
 his wonderful exploits. 
 
 He was no hero in her eyes now ; she had seen manlier 
 men. And this little exquisite, with pale, perfumed locks, 
 faded face, drawling voice, and expensive diamonds, did not 
 in the least captivate her fancy. From the very first she 
 shrank from him in disgust, as if he carried some vile taint 
 about with him. Yet older ladies admired and petted, ap 
 plauded his feeble witticisms, rode behind his elegant grays ; 
 and young men pronounced him a "good fellow," since he 
 was lavish with his wines and cigars.
 
 264 With Fate against Him. 
 
 In Kirke Gilliat's heart of hearts there was loathing and 
 contempt for this weak, foolish, dissolute son of his. He had 
 an utter abhorrence of those vices, and almost a hatred for the 
 shallow, vapid nature. The boy had never been strong, and 
 childish indulgence had laid the foundation of some of the 
 evils, while others must have rooted themselves in radical in 
 herent wickedness. He had never been able to stimulate him 
 to the least ambitious effort. His sensuous nature grasped at 
 every pleasure, no matter how widely he might scatter throes 
 of pain. His virtues were puny and feeble, his vices very 
 giants ; indolence and selfishness were his ruling passions. 
 That he was lavish, was due to no generous emotion ; he pos 
 sessed a weak pride which was gratified in spending money like 
 a prince. 
 
 Had God cursed him in this son ? Sometimes he thought so. 
 
 His mother clung to him as a certain kind of women only 
 can. She had a vein of slow, devouring jealousy in her tem 
 perament. If Eustace had grown into a fine, manly fellow, 
 in whom his father's love and pride could have centred, she 
 would have experienced a dull, grudging hatred. She must 
 always stand first. Perhaps it was because she did not feel 
 so very secure of her empire, though from the day on which 
 Kirke Gilliat had married her, up to the present, she had no 
 cause for complaint. 
 
 But now, in her failing health, her son's destiny appalled 
 her a little. It was possible, in the event of her death, for her 
 husband to marry again, and in the happiness of a new love, 
 make his eldest-born an outcast. Rothermel would forget 
 them both, as if they had never existed. 
 
 This is why she had so favored Sylvia Redmond. It was 
 best that Eustace should marry speedily, before some new ex 
 travagance angered his father beyond forgiveness. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat missed of his "steep flirtation." Sylvia's 
 womanliness was founded on a rock where he was concerned. 
 The old half-sisterly acquaintance could not be refused ; but
 
 With Fate against Him. 265 
 
 there Eustace Gilliat found an impassible barrier. At first his 
 vanity was sorely wounded. 
 
 "I'd like to have the breaking-in of my pretty lady," he 
 said, with a coarse oath, to Jules, his man. "If she were a 
 princess she could hardly carry her head more loftily. Sup 
 pose I marry her ? It would be a*n awful bore ; but I should 
 have some rights she would be bound to respect." 
 
 Jules grinned, showing his white, even teeth, and shrugged 
 his small shoulders. 
 
 "Monsieur is right, marriage is a bore. He would find it 
 intolerable." 
 
 Yet the idea rather pleased the weak brain of Eustace Gilliat 
 After all, it might not be so bad. It would serve to restore him 
 to favor with his father, give him a position of more respect 
 ability and power ; and if he found the chain galling, he could 
 easily slip it off for a few weeks. There would be no opposition 
 from Mrs. Redmond but then, what woman would have the 
 courage to refuse her daughter's hand to the heir of Rothermel ? 
 
 Then he sounded his mother. It was well to have her on his 
 side. 
 
 For a moment, she hesitated. Eustace's wife, of all women, 
 should have a fortune in her own right, and Sylvia's would not 
 be very extensive. But she had birth, beauty, and some ac 
 complishments ; and if Eustace were married, it might be an 
 excellent thing for them all, a cutting of the gordian knot of 
 anxiety. 
 
 A desultory courtship had come of this resolve, growing 
 warmer when he found himself held at a distance, until it had 
 culminated in a proposal, which had been rejected, through 
 some girlish whim, Eustace fully believed. 
 
 And this was why Mrs. Gilliat had taken the matter in hand. 
 For the past month she had seen much of Sylvia, and had 
 come to admire her courage, truth, and bright winsome ways. 
 This morning the child had appeared an absolute necessity to 
 
 her, and pleading proved the more easy matter. 
 
 12
 
 266 With Fate against Him. 
 
 So Sylvia Redmond found herself engaged, with no tender 
 gladness or strong yearning on her part. Fate had thrust her 
 into it, and held her there with a giant's clasp. How could 
 she disappoint Mr. Gilliat, whom she really loved, and who 
 caught at the marriage as eagerly as the rest ? for, after all, the 
 salvation of one's children is nearest. Howcould"she thwart 
 the invalid whose very life, as it were, lay in her hands, the 
 friend who had showered upon her so many tokens of affection ? 
 And had she the courage to oppose her mother's will, which 
 could be so strong and unreasonable ? 
 
 Every womanly fibre of her soul rose up in protest. It 
 seemed to her that when she came to the marriage, her unutter 
 able loathing would make itself known to those about her, and 
 some brave hand would be stretched forth to rescue her. She 
 could not believe God would allow such an iniquity to be con 
 summated. 
 
 Perhaps, too, she had a weak hope that the engagement 
 would prove irksome to Eustace. And then she was s6 en 
 grossed with Mrs. Gilliat, that she strove to put by her own 
 misery. If she dared take any friend in council, Ruth, Doc 
 tor Trewartha, or clear-eyed Mrs. McRae. Ah, if she .might 
 only go back to Cragness ! Even the quiet home of the 
 Braisteds was tempting. 
 
 They were riding behind the beautiful grays one afternoon, 
 when they strayed into a well-known road. Sylvia's heart beat 
 with a strange nervous apprehension. They passed a few 
 groups of children playing in shady nooks, or wading with 
 Iktle bare feet in the wayside streams. There was the wide, 
 cheerful Cragness village, looking less compact for the large 
 gardens and orchards smiling between. Janet McRae would 
 have no crowding. 
 
 Presently they passed two men in earnest conversation. Syl 
 via would have turned, but it was too late. The younger one 
 glanced up, flushed, and bowed in a stately fashion, which she 
 returned with scarlet cheeks.
 
 With Fate against Him.. 267 
 
 "It's a familiar face," began Eustace, with his slow drawl. 
 "I can't remember though, and I'm good at faces too. Del- 
 croix used to say in Paris that there wasn't my match for 
 remembering a face ; but they were generally women's, and 
 pretty. " 
 
 Sylvia uttered no response. In the fortnight since she had 
 seen Victor Hurst, her whole destiny had changed. Had he 
 heard ? Would he care ? 
 
 " Who was it, Sylvia?" 
 
 "A connection of Mrs. McRae's," evasively. "You have 
 heard me speak of her." 
 
 "That burly old giantess, who so terrifies your mother ?" 
 
 "Yes," indifferently. 
 
 " But I've seen the face, Sylvia," in a tone of weak pettish- 
 ness. 
 
 " Probably. He has charge of the quarry up yonder, though 
 I think ," slowly, as if she might be betraying a confidence, 
 "that she means to make him her heir." 
 
 " Does he live with her ?" 
 
 "Not now. He was there awhile last spring. Look at 
 those beautiful ferns," with a strangling in her throat, as if 
 she could not pursue the subject farther. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat was jealous of anything she had ever known, 
 with the vague consciousness that she held a life apart from 
 his. Men of this narrow mental calibre are invariably sus 
 picious and cruel. 
 
 He would not leave the subject. " You saw a good deal 
 of him, then?" 
 
 " Yes ;" leaning back amid the cushions, wearily. 
 
 A handsome man, with all this wealth at his command, was 
 no mean rival. Perhaps she had cared for him. 
 
 His face gloomed over with a sullen silence. And then 
 Sylvia, in her misery, asked herself why she had allowed this 
 man the right to control or question. 
 
 He was moody all the homeward way, nursing a sense of
 
 268 With Fate against Him. 
 
 injury. And she was glad to be handed out at last glad to 
 throw herself on the bed in her own room, with a torturing 
 headache, and come down no more that evening. 
 
 Yet, a nature like Sylvia's has many alternations. When 
 she rose the next morning, bright and well, she could hardly 
 resist being happy. And as Eustace was absent nearly all day, 
 her spirits rose. Mrs. Gilliat was better, and Doctor Tre- 
 wartha had chatted a long while in the pleasant parlor. He 
 could render himself exceedingly fascinating and entertaining; 
 and now he brought out the riches of his mind for his patient, 
 who, most of all, needed to have her thoughts directed from 
 herself. Mr. Gilliat followed him out on the porch and down 
 the broad steps. There had been no opportunity to exchange 
 a word, and she, poor child, what had she to say ? 
 
 Eustace drew her out to the walk that evening, shaded on 
 one side by the grove of great oaks, and lighted from the open 
 windows of the house. 
 
 "Sylvia, "he began, "I made a discovery to-day. Your 
 friend's name is Hurst, it seems." 
 
 " My friend ?" with a kind of repellant dignity. 
 
 "Yes." The tone he meant for scorn fell far short of the 
 mark. " And we met him that night at Bohmerwald." 
 
 He looked eagerly into her face as he uttered this. He had 
 so much of the brute instinct in him, that he would have 
 liked to catch her arm and shake her until she confessed all 
 she knew. 
 
 "I remember," poising her head with the touh of superi 
 ority and reticence that was maddening. 
 
 "And he remembered, doubtless," with a sneer. 
 
 "I think not We never spoke of it. Of course I knew 
 the name, and, I believe, I should have recognized the face 
 anywhere." 
 
 "A low, vulgar upstart! Hewing stone is a congenial 
 occupation for him," he flung out angrily. 
 
 lie turned and faced him, a bright scarlet spot on each cheek.
 
 With Fate against Him. 269 
 
 "He is neither low nor vulgar," she said. "The atmos 
 phere at Mrs. McRae's is as pure and sweet as the finest'in the 
 land. If there had been anything in his past life which 
 would not have borne scrutiny, he would never have been 
 asked there. It is a palace where only worth gains entrance." 
 
 He was awed by her brave, unembarrassed manner. After 
 a long while he said, rather more softly 
 
 "It is strange you did not talk that night over. It had its 
 picturesque element, with that fantastic musician. I have seen 
 his counterpart abroad many a time." 
 
 "I dare say Mr. Hurst had forgotten. The more stirring 
 events in men's lives crowd out such unimportant episodes." 
 
 "But I remember that your governess thought him hand 
 some ;" rather bitterly. 
 
 "I think she was right," in a dry, hard tone. "There is 
 mamma looking for me." 
 
 She had not heard the other story, then ? He had sworn that 
 he would never forgive the blow. An under-current of jealousy 
 and hate prompted him to revenge it.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SYLVIA REDMOND understood the grudging jealousy ; she had 
 seen it in childhood, and never knew how her sweet-humored 
 and generous admiration had shamed it. But this passion held 
 a man's vindictiveness as well. And the deeper hate she knew 
 nothing of, since Eustace had wisely kept that discreditable 
 incident to himself. 
 
 He had learned a good deal that day. Sylvia and Hurst had 
 been in the same house for weeks, in the neighborhood for 
 months. He had seen Hurst at the quarry a great, handsome, 
 agile fellow, with a kingly presence, as if born to rule. His 
 very existence was hateful. Some subtle instinct told him that 
 Victor stood between him and Sylvia. And though Cragness 
 was a wild compared to stately Rothermel, with its luxuriance 
 and beauty, it would be no mean heritage. 
 
 But it appeared altogether improbable to him that a man, 
 with such prospects in the distance, would be toiling in a 
 quarry, or even overlooking a gang of rude workmen. It 
 showed his coarse, grovelling nature ; and Eustace Gilliat's lips 
 curled superciliously at the thought. 
 
 He also discovered, through Jules, that Victor Hurst's path 
 way was not quite exempt from thorns. There was a kind of 
 covert rebellion in the quarry. Acting on Mrs. McRae's orders, 
 liquor had been forbidden. 
 
 Victor had seen enough of its evils at Weareham, besides his 
 own invincible dislike of the practice. So when Jarvis con 
 tinued his indulgence in spite of remonstrance, there remained 
 but one step to discharge him. This was accordingly done. 
 Jarvis lounged around a few days in the vicinity, and then
 
 With Fate against Him. 271 
 
 rather sullenly begged to be taken back. It was really wiser, 
 Victor thought, than to have him idling about and interfering 
 with the others. 
 
 "You have made a mistake, young sir," exclaimed Janet 
 McRae in her brisk tone. "The man was in some trouble 
 last summer, I believe. And when you were well rid of him, 
 it was best so to stay." 
 
 ' ' I was not well rid of him. That was the difficulty. If he 
 would only leave the place." 
 
 "I should make him." 
 
 Victor smiled rather dubiously. 
 
 "Suppose it comes to a trial of strength wills ?" 
 
 "I am the master here;" and a white line of resolution 
 showed about his mouth. 
 
 "Very well, very well !" laughing in her heartsome, breezy 
 fashion. "You will do, I think;" studying him shrewdly. 
 " But are you not confining yourself too closely? You are a 
 rare guest at Cragness. " 
 
 " I have little time," coloring warmly. "And the house is 
 already full of guests." 
 
 ' ' There is always room for you, mind. I am an old woman, 
 and I do not like to be neglected. The truth is out" 
 
 It was but half a truth, however. She felt a little irritated 
 at the non-success of her matrimonial scheme, which did not 
 seem to advance a step. 
 
 " I do not wish it to be construed into neglect," he answered 
 with grave politeness. " My father is fond of having me spend 
 the evenings with him. Doctor Trewartha has worked wonders 
 in his case." 
 
 "Trewartha is in high feather at St. Albans ;" and it seemed 
 as if there was a little displeasure in her tone. " He is going 
 over to the aristocracy fast. There's a grand lady staying there 
 whose case has puzzled the whole medical faculty, I believe ; 
 and he has tried his hand with remarkable success. As if it 
 were anything but idleness, and dissipation, and whims. I'm
 
 272 With Fate against Him. 
 
 near to seventy, and have never had a troublesome nerve in my 
 body ; but I'm not a fine, finical woman, thank the Lord 1" 
 
 "I heard him say he had a case there," Victor answered, 
 absently. 
 
 "Yes. The Gilliats are lords in one of the southern 
 counties. He has been senator from his district, and minister 
 abroad ; and Mrs. Gilliat is a remarkably handsome woman, 
 I believe. Now she has time to nurse all her whims and 
 ailments." 
 
 She gave her old contemptuous snort, and wheeled round as 
 if defiantly confronting an enemy. 
 
 ' ' And since I am gossiping, I may as well say that Sylvia 
 Redmond has taken a fool and a fortune the Gilliat heir ! 
 They are to be married in the fall. I hope Margaret Redmond 
 is satisfied." 
 
 It was true, then. He had feared as much the day he saw 
 them together. And had not this been Sylvia's dream ? 
 
 " The child does as she is bidden, though I expected better 
 things of her." An indignant flutter still in her voice. "Mar 
 garet Randolph ran away with a poor gentleman, the most 
 useless thing on God's earth. Why, yonder weed is of more 
 real service. Perhaps she loved him if so, it was soon over. 
 I never heard that he treated her badly ; but he had no energy, 
 no back-bone, and when his money was spent he fell back 
 upon writing prosy essays and translating Latin poems. He 
 could not go to work like a man, but must palter over a sleepy 
 spark of genius, with a helpless, inefficient woman tied rounck.. 
 his neck, and frail of course. I've not much faith in genius. 
 They used to make long visits at the Braisteds, and heaven 
 only knows how they managed. I would have gone out wash 
 ing or sewing ;" her face flushing with the energy of her 
 feelings. " Sylvia was a little yellow-haired girl about nine, I 
 think, when one winter her father went to New York to hear 
 about some situation or other, and never came back." . 
 
 "But he died"
 
 With Fate against Him. 273 
 
 " I suppose so," snapping off her words as if they were 
 hard to credit. "The tidings came in a roundabout way. 
 I'd be loth to think wrong of any one, but I don't believe she 
 was sorry. She went home to her father, was forgiven, and 
 bequeathed a share of the family property. Then she journeyed 
 abroad with her friend Mrs. Gilliat our poor American moths 
 must singe themselves in Paris flame. Sylvia and her gover 
 ness were left behind." 
 
 There was a pause, in which Mrs. McRae broke a branch of 
 cedar and fanned herself violently with it 
 
 " I think little Sylvia worthy of a better fate, unless she is 
 fool enough to love young Gilliat, who isn't the kind of man 
 I should choose for a daughter of mine," with a dry, derisive 
 smile. "But girls of the present day think only of a fine 
 establishment, and Sylvia was badly bitten with the glories of 
 Rothermel. Trewartha declares that it is the finest estate in 
 the country. I wish her joy ;" in an ironical tone. "There ! 
 I've gossiped like any old fish-woman. Come to tea to-morrow 
 night I shall expect you. Daisy," to the sleek, shining 
 mare, " stir your steps, my fine lady." 
 
 So, nodding, she drove off. Victor watched the wheels as 
 they spun round, leaving a track of fine dust in their wake, 
 and studied the strong, upright figure. How mercilessly she 
 had demolished Sylvia's mother 1 And Sylvia ! 
 
 Then he thought of the night at Bohmerwald. She had 
 been bitten by the Gilliat grandeur even then, and that puny, 
 cowardly fellow was a hero in her eyes. He had been wild 
 enough to envy them, to imagine their birth, wealth, and 
 station stood for true nobility in the world. That foolish, long- 
 ago time, with its boyish hopes turned to dust and ashes, 
 fretted him now as he mused over it. Yet he was glad that 
 never by word or look had he tried to bring himself to Sylvia's 
 mind, to be despised and laughed at. 
 
 < And yet how royally sweet and piquant she had been in 
 some moods, with her soft, dewy clear eyes, her red lips quiv-
 
 274 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ering like rose-leaves in a balmy wind, and the silvery voice 
 dropping liquid tones like a half-hidden streamlet on a sum 
 mer day. Bright, changeful, radiant, a creature to be loved 
 and petted, shielded from all storms and adversities. Would 
 she have the care and tenderness with her gold ? 
 
 Then he went back to the quarry. He knew well that there 
 was a spirit of dissatisfaction gaining ground, and he suspected, 
 in spite of the required promise, that Jarvis and two or three 
 others brought their drams in their pockets. But he deter 
 mined to struggle against the tide alone. Mrs. McRae should 
 not find him weak at the most important crisis; 
 
 It came before he was really prepared, and in a manner he 
 little expected. One Monday morning he found the men 
 drawn up in martial array in front of the excavation. 
 
 They all touched their hats, so formidable a weapon is 
 politeness. Jarvis stepped forward as spokesman. 
 
 The story briefly told was this the miners in the next 
 county had struck for wages as well as the stone-cutters in two 
 or three districts, and they demanded the modest advance of 
 half a dollar a day. There would be no more work until the 
 request was complied with. 
 
 The hot blood rushed to Victor's brow, and steely gleams 
 flashed from his eyes. 
 
 " Your wages were twenty cents a day more than those in 
 any quarry of which we could hear," he replied, calmly. 
 '*It is not my province altogether to answer this demand ; 
 but if it were, I should decline at once. I will give you an 
 answer at twelve." 
 
 They bowed and retired. Victor drove to Cragness immedi 
 ately, but Mrs. McRae had gone to the mill, so he followed 
 her thither. 
 
 "Well, what do you propose?" her strong, shrewd face 
 kindling into a peculiar smile as she listened to the story. 
 
 " I should prefer to part with some of the men, and I think
 
 With Fate against Him. 2/5 
 
 the wages sufficiently high. But for miles around they are 
 standing out on strikes." 
 
 " Have you taken your contract into consideration ?" 
 
 " I could hold out a month, if no assistance came to hand ; 
 but I fancy that I could find half the men I want in Taunton. 
 It is not altogether the wages. There is a grudge against me 
 because I am young, and was not brought up to the business." 
 
 That fired her. She would stand by a comrade until the 
 last gasp. 
 
 "It is nothing to them so long as you understand it. Let 
 them leave in a body, insolent wretches that they are ! Not 
 another cent will I pay. I think they all know Janet McRae's 
 word. " 
 
 Victor was relieved and armed. He went back and gave 
 the mutinous men their answer. Half a dozen hung about 
 undecided. It was plain that they had reconsidered and were 
 loth to go. 
 
 "You have 'had very little to complain of;" and Victor's 
 clear voice rang out sharp and crisp. "Any man who is 
 dissatisfied with the wages may pack up his tools and go at 
 once. " 
 
 He was in no mood to parley, so he turned away haughtily. 
 
 " He's backed by a woman," exclaimed Jarvis, with a coarse 
 laugh. " We don't give in to no such rule, boys." 
 
 A faint cheer went up, the echoes reaching Victor, and a 
 little frown contracted his brow. 
 
 But that evening half a dozen recreant ones waited upon 
 him at the cottage and expressed entire willingness to resume 
 work in the morning. 
 
 "Very well," he answered. "I shall go to Taunton to 
 look up some new hands. You may take your old places." 
 
 He paid them a brief call before -he went, and found 
 matters progressing satisfactorily. The men were rather 
 ashamed, but not sullen, and accepted the situation frankly.
 
 276 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Victor Hurst spent most of his day at Taunton. A stone 
 cutter had mentioned two or three idle quarrymen, and they 
 in turn knew of several others. By night he had a dozen 
 engaged for the ensuing week. But on his return home he 
 learned that the disaffected had visited the quarry in a mob, 
 and compelled the few to retire. 
 
 It had come, then, to open war. Victor considered well what 
 step was most prudent, and when he had resolved, paid Mrs. 
 McRae a call and detailed the particulars. 
 
 "Excellent," she said. "It will not do to allow a few 
 bullies to rule us in that fashion. One or two warm receptions 
 will suffice for them, I think. Trewartha admires what he 
 terms your pluck, immensely. He will laugh over this. Nay, 
 do not go " as he rose. You so seldom take a holiday. 
 
 The clear blue eyes softened to persuasion, and, as he had 
 no good excuse, he stayed. There were no guests, so Mrs. 
 McRae summoned Ruth and left them together. 
 
 There had grown up between these two people a peculiar 
 silent friendship. There was a fine strength in Ruth Gamier, 
 steady nerves under the waxen skin, and a subtile light 
 emanating now and then from her soul that attracted Victor. 
 Her temperament was so healthy, so free from morbidness, and 
 her thoughts flowed in such straightforward channels. They 
 had lifted him out of himself more than once. She had never 
 known the grinding exactions of poverty, nor the keener pangs 
 of a conscience tortured in its ideas of right and wrong until 
 it flies in the face of heaven with some almost blasphemous 
 question or demand. 
 
 And though her occupations had been rather narrow, or at 
 least confined to one sphere, her soul had grown noiselessly, 
 unheeded even by herself. Perhaps never so much as in the 
 last five months, but she had a way of pushing aside perplex 
 ing questions that did not concern her daily life. When she 
 first had her lesson, for though Janet McRae had never put it 
 in so many words, she fell instinctively what was required of
 
 With Fate against Him. 277 
 
 her ; and had Victor been in the slightest degree lover-like, the 
 womanly part of her nature would have understood and 
 rebelled with the same pain that it had given her to see Sylvia 
 and Trewartha together; but this slow pulse of friendship 
 never sent any hot, questioning blood to her heart. 
 
 To-day she was calm and bright, with the warmth of an 
 October sun rather than July's vivid heats. The sewing that 
 had once been so much of a habit had fallen into disuse this 
 summer, since there had been guests to entertain, and daily 
 rides to the Hurst Cottage, with a not infrequent accompani 
 ment of long calls. 
 
 They talked more than usual on this day. Doctor Tre 
 wartha, sauntering up the lawn at mid-afternoon, heard their 
 voices in the shrubbery, and went straightway thither. She 
 had been gathering a handful of late roses for Mrs. Hurst. 
 
 If Frank Trewartha had been in any doubt before, he 
 knew now what touch of fire sped along his nerves like light 
 ning. His passions were all marvellously under control, but 
 this black demon could not be mistaken, and reared its crest 
 with keen energy. While there had been no real danger he 
 could afford to dally, to attract her to-day and let her go to 
 morrow ; but what did this bloom on her cheek, and this 
 dangerous softness of her deep eyes portend? Victor Hurst 
 was undeniably handsome, and in such a mood as this might 
 prove fascinating. 
 
 Victor went home rather more elated than usual. He had 
 gained sufficient courage to measure himself with his peers, 
 and the result had not been absolute discomfiture. It was well 
 to have his armor bright, and fitting well, before he went out^ 
 to try the broader world. 
 
 The mood had not altogether left him when he rambled 
 down to the deserted quarry the next afternoon. He remem 
 bered the sweet, petulant lips that had called it his studio, and 
 he smiled softly at the conceit. Also the older fancy that, armed 
 with the work of brain and hand, he would one day dare to
 
 278 With Fate against Him. 
 
 present himself before her. He could never do it now. He 
 dimly guessed, from the treasures of Doctor Trewartha's house, 
 what Rothermel must be, with its beauty, its art and statuary 
 gathered from the choicest of every clime. His work would 
 be crude and paltry beside it. 
 
 He had half-buried a strong box, such as the workmen used 
 for their tools, at the side of the rock in a leafy recess. The 
 quiet hours that were stolen from his other cares he had spent 
 here, nursing his old ambition. After his duties here were all 
 performed, he would still have years enough to make some 
 thing out of himself. Life was so much larger and grander 
 than he used to fancy it amid the smoke at Weareham. In this 
 fresh inspiring air, and with these people of broader souls, 
 his o\vn was coming up to its fall stature. 
 
 He unlocked his treasure-trove now, and took out his 
 tools, his work. He was in a peculiar mood to-day, and picked 
 up a little bust for which he had obtained a block of marble. 
 It was nearly finished, yet it seemed as if all his life he might 
 go on adding touches, and it would still fall short of his 
 dream. But after a few strokes he dropped his tiny chisel, and 
 leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, began to dream. 
 It was so weirdly still here in the woods on this August day, 
 quite as if he was in some far realm of imagination. 
 
 How many moments elapsed before a step startled him he 
 hardly knew. He sprang up flushed and haughty to face 
 Doctor Trewartha, who laughed genially. 
 
 "Upon my word, Hurst, I am a friend and no dangerous 
 enemy. Don't glower at me in that fearful manner." 
 
 The startled look relaxed, but the flush grew deeper. 
 
 "I really could not help it. Your mother said you had 
 gone down to the quarry, and being in an idle mood, I took 
 to rambling round when I could not find you, until I caught 
 a glimpse of your figure here." 
 
 Victor felt that his secret had been discovered. How many 
 times he had been tempted to confess it to Trewartha ! But
 
 With Fate against Him. 279 
 
 now a great doubt and misgiving seized^ him. What if this 
 verdict should be as crushing as another." 
 
 " Well," Trewartha said, a little wounded at the silence, 
 "shall I go as I came? I need not force myself upon your 
 confidence." 
 
 ' ' No, no, " reaching out his hand ; ' ' my work may look 
 poor and paltry to your eyes ; but judge me from the small 
 chance, rather than the scanty results." 
 
 Trewartha came nearer with that. Victor tumbled over two 
 others done in the quarry-stone, his manner confused and 
 diffident. 
 
 "Oh, this is a success ! I never saw Janet McRae put in 
 stone before ; but it is a correct translation of the woman's 
 strength, the outer bark of roughness, and the grand, imperious, 
 arbitrary soul within. Did she sit to you ?" 
 
 " No," in a little surprise. 
 
 "You carry her about well in your heart, then. I've seen 
 worse things than that done by finished artists. Does she 
 know it?" 
 
 "She does not," rather frigidly. "It has been my idle-hour 
 amusement." 
 
 Trewartha's mellow laugh floated down the ledge in rippling 
 echoes. 
 
 "And this?" Something beyond a head and shoulders, for 
 opposite, almost touching the face and yet apart, was a tiny 
 rough crag with a slender thread of water trickling down. 
 
 "I think I know," in a slow, musing tone. "The myth 
 of Tantalus. It seems to me the old heathen had just what 
 he deserved. Why have you put a new meaning into his 
 face?" 
 
 " It stood for something else with me ;" in a half hesitating 
 tone, dropping the large lids over eyes that were steel gray 
 now. 
 
 Trewartha scrutinized the young face, where boyish lines or 
 emotion came so rarely.
 
 280 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ""You have studied before," he said, with an almost angry 
 impetuousness. "It is not an altogether new thing, working 
 out bits of your soul in stone. And yet I don't see how you 
 ever found any opportunity " 
 
 "I never did," calmly, the face growing pale and set. 
 " This thought entered my mind the first day I went to Taun- 
 ton with Mrs. McRae. In a marble-yard a figure was being 
 carved for a tombstone. It may be a long way from that 
 to art " 
 
 "You are bridging it over fiercely, Hurst J This is Sylvia 
 Redmond, only you have fashioned the child's face too high 
 and fine for the wife of Eustace Gilliat. In ten years she will 
 lower to his level, become a weak, fashionable, fine woman. 
 Another poor moth caught." 
 
 "It might have been different, I think," averting his face, 
 and chipping at the bit of gray rock under his hand. 
 
 " Might have beens are the wrecks of the world. You find 
 them stranded on all the shores along life," and Trewartha 
 gave a keen, satirical smile. " Is it a kind of regretful excuse 
 appealing to our self-love? So few of us would be willing to 
 admit that we had been weighed in the balance and found 
 wanting. And surely Sylvia would have to go farther back than 
 her parents to find much stamina." 
 
 " So you saddle the children with their father's sins !" Victor 
 exclaimed, as if in a mood of unreasonable anger. 
 
 "Hasn't Holy Writ declared it? Yet men and women go 
 on perpetuating themselves, their follies, weaknesses, crimes, 
 and wonder that the world is full of sin. Faugh ! But that's 
 theology or ethics rather than art. So you have taken this up 
 for the first time this summer ?" 
 
 Victor felt curt and ungracious. He was sore at heart, his 
 natural disposition, circumstances, and the tenor of his whole 
 life disposed him to reticence. And then the keen, mortifying 
 thought of failure stung him to the quick. So he studied Tre- 
 wartha's face furtively.
 
 With Fate against Him. 281 
 
 A face cultured to something larger than mere worldly uses ; 
 an outgrowth of health, satisfaction, experience, and rare intel 
 ligence. If he could have such a friend 1 
 
 "It dates farther back than that," he said, with a rapid, forced 
 frankness, as if in the next moment's mood he might repent 
 and withdraw the confidence. "The only business fancy of 
 my boyhood was engraving ; but a man who would have taken 
 me, was a person of very loose, irregular habits, and I must 
 have gone to New York alone. A higher authority than mine 
 overruled it. Then as I neared manhood I took to rude 
 sketching like this." 
 
 From a time-worn portfolio, he produced several of the old 
 sketches. Trewartha seated himself on the rock, and began to 
 examine them. 
 
 ' ' You had models ?" 
 
 " I used to study the men in the shop, with their brawny 
 arms, and chests, and resolute faces. Is it true that rough 
 physical vigor and work drains the brain, starves it ? This 
 man was a drunkard Connor. Was it the evil in him, or 
 circumstances?" 
 
 " A little of both ;" dryly. " You had a teacher?" 
 
 "Not for those." 
 
 " Ah, here is the Tantalus !" Trewartha raised his eyes and 
 studied Victor's face critically. " I think I understand ;" 
 slowly, and with an air of penetration accenting the brow and 
 eyes. "It was not mere physical thirst. It is a type of some 
 thing finer, farther off; the desire for some end not distinctly 
 in view, but felt, nevertheless ; a soul process crying out through 
 the blank, dark night ; a passion that cou\$ not be put in 
 words. Yes, I understand it ;" half absently, as if he were 
 talking to himself. 
 
 "When I came to have money of my own ;" and Victor 
 tried to steady his voice, that would be tremulous with all the 
 ache and agony of the past, "when I was my own master, I 
 took some lessons in painting."
 
 282 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Well ?" in a curious indrawn voice. 
 
 "It was a failure !" bitterly, with a keen remembered sting. 
 "Look at that picture beyond !" indicating the slant sunshine 
 on a bit of rock, and a clump of stunted bushes standing out 
 distinctly in the still afternoon air. " As if even that simple 
 thing were not utterly beyond a man's power of translation !" 
 
 " You tried such things nature ?" 
 
 " Yes. I learned then that I was never meant for an artist" 
 
 Trewartha saw the fine, struggling, but still enslaved soul in 
 the tortured eyes, the skin where nerves full of red heat flamed 
 up, and as suddenly turned ice-cold. 
 
 " No, Hurst, I don't think you were meant to paint rocks 
 and trees, or still-life of any kind. You would be much more 
 likely to strike a soul out of yonder marble ; to bring some 
 inner passion to the surface." 
 
 "You think that?" in a faint, unbelieving tone, the eyelids 
 drooping over a great joy. 
 
 "I believe it with all my heart But those things take 
 years. " 
 
 "Yes;" with grateful, unappeased hunger. 
 
 "But I do not understand why you came down here, when 
 the doors of Cragness were open to you. You read Janet 
 McRae wrongly." 
 
 "I had myself to read as well;" in a hoarse, quavering 
 voice. 
 
 "Ah, you geniuses have always a sore, sensitive pride that 
 pricks you inwardly. If you had been afraid of failure you 
 need not have confessed all. She would have waited cheer 
 fully." 
 
 Victor made no reply. Trewartha rose and paced the small 
 green enclosure, wondering at the pride or diffidence. 
 
 "Hurst," he began presently, "I think you know Janet 
 McRae's intentions. She has reared a daughter, but that does 
 not satisfy her. Like all strong-souled women she has a cr 
 ing after a man-child. And you are of her lineage a gc '..
 
 With Fate against Him. 283 
 
 brave, old stock. Why not go up to yonder grim, gray man 
 sion and take your birthright ? It will come to you when she 
 is dead. Is youth so pitiless that it must thrust aside help, love ?" 
 
 "It is not that." Victor Hurst's voice had a curiously 
 hollow sound in it, like a dying man's last grasp on life. " It 
 is not that. She offered me a chance to begin life anew, and 
 I had to do it in some other place beside Weareham. I came 
 to work, to care for my parents. Whatever dreams I might 
 have had, were my own," a fierce scarlet blazing up in his 
 cheek. "When my duty is ended, when I am free, I shall 
 leave Cragness for all time. You said she had a daughter 
 Cragness is Ruth Garnier's heritage." 
 
 ' ' I never heard it so termed save by gossip." 
 
 "I think it will be right. I have no claim." 
 
 "There is something under all this, unreasoning child. 
 Tell me truly have you loved Ruth Gamier?" and Trewartha 
 held his breath. 
 
 "Loved her? No." An air of surprise lifting the sharply- 
 defined bronze brows. 
 
 " Well," Trewartha said, deliberately, " I will tell you my 
 side of the story. There is no fool like an old fool ! / love 
 Ruth Gamier. Janet McRae has developed a handsome, 
 healthy body^-I shall quicken the soul. Yet I know it is her 
 plan that you two shall marry." 
 
 "It could never, never be," in a slow, passionless, but 
 assured tone. " It must be years before I marry if ever." 
 
 " I have enough for her without Cragness. Madame McRae 
 will be angry and storm then, at the back of the April shower 
 will shine the golden sun in its bed of peerless blue. Ruth 
 will have a handsome dowry, and then the lioness will be 
 left alone in her lair. Think again, Victor Hurst, before you 
 throw up your hand. Genius is never the worse for tender 
 nurture, no matter what your hard, material souls may say in 
 their foolish prating of inner development. I hold out to you 
 a brother's hand. Think again."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WHY not take the good the gods provided and be thankful ? 
 Was he to carry about with him forever the result and punish 
 ment of another man's sin ? Was that God's justice and 
 mercy ? Ah, none knew more truly than he what the unused 
 wealth of Cragness might do for him in saving hard, long, 
 wearisome years. He had only to yield, to keep silence, to 
 thrust the unclean thing out of sight. 
 
 He remembered one evening, when they had been sitting in 
 the light of the blazing, odorous pine-logs, the brilliant glow 
 shining full upon Janet McRae's strong, clear face, that she 
 had said in answer to some whim of Sylvia Redmond 
 
 "There never was a lord nor a lady among the McRaes, 
 except as God made them; but you might call them from their 
 graves and they could show hands with the cleanest. Not a 
 crime nor stain, never any meanness, any foul grasping avarice, 
 or the shadow of falsehood, which is always treason. A loyal, 
 manful race." 
 
 There had been a flush and a flicker of pain in his mother's 
 face, a sudden sinking in the lines that should have been able 
 to show a brave front. And if he took his place up yonder 
 he should be living a lie and a treason daily; if he confessed 
 he knew now that it was a sin Janet McRae would never forgive. 
 Women were always pitiless to their fellow-women, and hunted 
 them down. No, it could never be. Let him work out his 
 own salvation. There were long, brave years before him, and 
 out in the world he could fight this black shadow of fate, 
 coming off conqueror. 
 
 But he took Trewartha's proffered hand
 
 With Fate against Him. 285 
 
 "I cannot tell you all my reasons," he said, in a voice still 
 husky with, the terror and shame that he kept bravely out of 
 his face. " If there should ever come a day when you and she 
 know them, I think you will absolve me from ingratitude, at 
 least. I told Mrs. McRae months ago what I considered my 
 duty. I have performed it faithfully since. The generous 
 offer cannot be repaid ; but I shall make myself no loss to 
 her when I drop quietly out of the lives of all who have 
 known me." 
 
 Trewartha had the grace of exceeding patience. It was 
 worse than useless to rasp this fine, sensitive soul and drag 
 up its secrets. Sooner or later every hidden thing came to 
 light it was one of nature's laws. 
 
 "Well," he said, " tell me the rest of your plans, or rather 
 your story from that point. You gave up the painting ?" 
 
 The straightforward voice was utterly devoid of curiosity, 
 and the kindiy beaming eyes were more than friendly. 
 
 "Yes. I had a verdict upon it, but before that I had con 
 vinced myself;" looking away at the distant blue mountain- 
 tops. 
 
 "Then you threw yourself into the vexed breach?" and 
 Trewartha laughed genially, a mellow salve to draw the stings 
 from the other's wound. 
 
 "Yes. I still think the cause was good. The question 
 was should we fill rich men's warehouses at low prices simply 
 because the present demand had ceased, and give them the 
 weapon to fight us in the spring when business became brisk ? 
 Prices for labor come down so much more readily than they 
 advance." 
 
 "Judging from your face, Hurst, I should say the whole 
 question of trade was distasteful to you." 
 
 " I was put into it, pushed over on the labor side," and he 
 gave a hollow, bitter laugh. 
 
 "And now you have taken the step deliberately." 
 
 "I am not ashamed of it. Whatever pride there maybe
 
 286 With Fate against Him. 
 
 in my soul, God knows it is not that. But a man can't 
 help longing for what he loves best, and floundering about 
 in the sea of uncertainty until his foot touches the rock whereon 
 he is to rear his standard or coral isjand. So 1 have tried to 
 work my idea out in these bits of stone. I think faces and 
 passions appeal to me more strongly than the sun glinting a 
 bit of water, or a cluster of autumn leaves. " 
 
 "You are right there." 
 
 Victor glanced up, eyes and cheeks aflame. 
 
 "Yes. In one sense those are remarkable, because they 
 express the force of genius. The things that are lacking will 
 come by practice. Fineness of touch for see, this is marble 
 and not Sylvia Redmond's soft, sinuous hair, and these nostrils 
 lack her nervous flexibility. But the mouth has a dignity and 
 strength beyond hers." 
 
 The discriminating praise was precious indeed. 
 
 " You mean to go on ?" 
 
 "Yes. May I ask you to keep my secret? It is very dear 
 to me. " 
 
 "You expect to carve, and to subdue your mutinous 
 rebels?" with his peculiar smile. " Your own weapon turned 
 against you, Hurst" 
 
 "They have hardly my excuse. I do not believe it so 
 much a question of wages as of supremacy. Jarvis and 
 Finch brought their whisky-bottles in defiance of rules and 
 promises. By mid-afternoon half the men were drunken and 
 insolent, and cared little how the work was done. I have 
 taken the quarry on certain conditions, and it is my duty to 
 see them respected, enforced. " 
 
 He looked as if he might do it easily, rising now and folding 
 his lithe arms across his broad chest. And Trewartha felt for 
 once nonplussed. This man neither cared to marry Ruth 
 Gamier nor to have Cragness, it seemed. 
 
 "I shall be anxious to hear how you succeed, on Monday. 
 Will you not give me a friend's place, Hurst ? If you will
 
 With Fate against Him. 287 
 
 accept no pecuniary aid from any one, you might take a little 
 interest, sympathy. 
 
 "I shall be. very glad to have that from you," and he 
 clasped Trewartha's hand in both of his. "If you will 
 accept me as I am it is no foolish, over-sensitive freak, be 
 lieve me." 
 
 "We all have our little mysteries," was the answer, in a dry* 
 but not unpleasant tone. "Come up to the Cedars and study 
 the beauty there. Perhaps I shall not be so poor a tutor, 
 theoretically. And if you will forgive me for having surrep 
 titiously discovered your secret " 
 
 Victor smiled, and half inclined his head. Then he began 
 to gather his tools and work, and stow them in their hidingr 
 place. 
 
 "Are you going home? I will walk with you, then. I 
 have not seen your father for several days. " 
 
 These visits were rare treats to John Hurst. His long-dor 
 mant faculties had begun to assert their personality once more, 
 though his limbs would always remain powerless. 
 
 At first he could hardly be content with this inactive, help 
 less state. His old anxiety for souls pressed hardly upon 
 him. 
 
 " God will take care of them in His own way," said Mrs. 
 McRae, m her strong, energetic manner. "That He has laid 
 you aside is sure proof that your hardest labor is over. He 
 is giving you time now to enjoy His works, spread out on 
 every side. The burden and the heat of the day is for some 
 one else. " 
 
 Was it true that this lesson had yet to be learned ? That 
 God was in the whispering wind, the green, swaying gloom of 
 the trees, the purple nights, and the rosy mornings ? Was it 
 possible that in His work he had forgotten this ? 
 
 They had many an earnest discussion, these two persons, their 
 sharp individuality clashing and engendering a healthy heat by 
 the friction. But Trewartha's moods in the little cottage were
 
 288 With Fate against Him. 
 
 always genial. He brought up his half unbeliefs, his doubts, 
 and his small cynicisms for John Hurst to controvert, and 
 laughed soft and mellow as the hazy sun on an October day, 
 when he was compelled to give up a point But under the 
 arguments was something that always left him in a more 
 serious mood. This man had relinquished everything for his 
 religion as surely as those who left all to follow Christ when he 
 was upon earth. Part of the sacrifice might have been useless, 
 but he gave manfully of the best he had. If in the great 
 struggle his nerves had grown weak, and his brain confused, 
 God surely could see that it had been done from most unself 
 ish motives. 
 
 His nature had softened a good deal, it is true. He had 
 come back to a child's passionate love for flowers and singing. 
 Anah sewed and sang, in her soft, tremulous voice, all the 
 old hymns that had stirred many a wandering or thought 
 less soul in their little meetings. And sometimes, as now, 
 Victor's fine tenor and Trewartha's baritone, with its organ- 
 like cadences, made the air full of angel presences for the 
 man going slowly down to the dark valley. 
 
 Trewartha glanced back at them in the moonlight. The 
 fervor and faith was not all fanaticism, surely. And with it 
 came an incongruous thought where had Victor Hurst gath 
 ered all this unlikeness to either parent ? 
 
 Monday soon came round. The men were there on the 
 stroke of the bell, sixteen, old and new. They went to work 
 without the slightest interruption, and continued until noon. 
 
 "Small fear of a riot," Victor said, laughingly, to the con 
 stable who had come from Taunton. 
 
 " They may be holding back," was the answer, in a shrewd 
 tone. 
 
 And holding back they were. In the quiet of mid-afternoon 
 there was a sudden onslaught upon the group of laborers, 
 headed by Jarvis and Finch. The raiders were armed with 
 heavy clubs.
 
 With Fate against Him. 289 
 
 "We're going to put a stop to this 'ere," exclaimed Jarvis, 
 in a thick, unsteady tone. "Part of you men have been 
 warned already. There'll not be another week's work done in 
 this quarry until your white-livered boss comes up to wages !" 
 
 "We have a right to make our own bargains," returned the 
 foremost of the gang. 
 
 " We'll see. Drop your hammers, men, or you'll be forced 
 to. Do it peaceably, and not a soul shall be harmed." 
 
 The men kept steadily at their work as if not a word had 
 been spoken. Their coolness exasperated the bully. 
 
 "At them !" he shouted, hoarsely, gathering effrontery from 
 the fact that no one appeared to be within sight or hearing. 
 
 There was a sharp click of a pistol, and the hurried steps of 
 those in waiting. 
 
 "This is for the man who strikes the next blow," said a 
 cool, steady voice. 
 
 The rabble started in affright, and two or three of the most 
 cowardly ones dashed through the narrow opening to the main 
 road. Jarvis was seized from behind and disarmed before he 
 could even turn. With a bitter oath he struggled to free him 
 self. The party felt beaten without a blow. 
 
 ' ' Secure that one as well, " rang out the voice as clearly as 
 before. ' ' These two, Mr. Hurst, are the ringleaders ?" 
 
 "Yes," Victor answered. 
 
 "Now, my men," addressing the rest, "if you choose to 
 throw down your murderous weapons and go home in an 
 orderly manner, nothing further will be done, but the next 
 attempt will be met with no such leniency. These men " 
 nodding to the laborers, "shall be protected in their duty, if 
 it .should require a guard for the next month. What will 
 you do?" 
 
 The rioters threw down their clubs surlily, and gave the 
 required promise. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Victor, as one of the laborers 
 sat down upon a pile of hewn stone, turning ghastly pale. 
 
 13
 
 290 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " It's my arm broken, I believe." 
 
 "Bring him some water. Let us see, King." 
 
 The arm, from midway between elbow and wrist, dangled 
 helplessly. 
 
 "Broken, is it?" inquired Delafield, the officer. "That 
 makes a case at once. Which one struck you, Jarvis ?" 
 
 "No, I wish it had been. He's the worst of the lot. He 
 just missed my head. Finch gave me this clip." 
 
 I think I should have enjoyed it being Jarvis better my 
 self," declared Victor. " You must go to the village immedi 
 ately and have it set." 
 
 "We can take him in the wagon," subjoined Delafield. 
 "I have just sent Markham for it." 
 
 Jarvis, with his arms pinioned behind him, gnashed his teeth 
 in impotent rage. Glancing at Victor, where he stood calm, 
 self-possessed, and with the peculiar refinement of beauty most 
 exasperating to a coarse bully, he muttered an oath of 
 vengeance. 
 
 Markham soon made his appearance with the wagon. The 
 two ruffians sullenly took their places. King was assisted in, 
 and they drove villageward. 
 
 Finch was the greatest sufferer, as he alone had struck a 
 blow, so he was committed for assault; while Jarvis, after 
 being bound over to keep the peace, was discharged with a 
 severe reprimand. Matters went on quietly enough at the 
 quarry for the next ten days. 
 
 Mrs. McRae came down to see the injured man, who was 
 snugly settled in a cottage with his wife and children. 
 
 "Let his wages go on," she said, peremptorily to Victor, 
 "and charge it to my share. I hope the ruffians have had 
 lesson enough to last them. Not one of them is to be taken 
 back, if he should go down upon his knees. Remember that !" 
 
 Victor smiled at her energetic manner. 
 
 " He has done just the right thing all the way through," she 
 said, decisively, to Anah Hurst, as if there had been some
 
 With Fate against Him. 291 
 
 danger of the meek woman controverting the statement. " He 
 is a son to be proud of, though he is sadly headstrong and wil 
 ful at times. Some of the sturdy old Scotch blood runs in his 
 veins." 
 
 "It was hardly worth the sensation it created," commented 
 Victor, when his mother repeated this praise. "I do not 
 wonder my father felt called upon to fight the demon of intem 
 perance in the manner he did. It is the bane of our working- 
 classes." 
 
 Anah smiled in a pleased, grateful fashion. There had been 
 but two words in the speech for her "my father." As she 
 saw these two men, with no tie of blood between them, being 
 brought so near together again, her whole soul was filled with 
 thankfulness. 
 
 "I think I misjudged him in the old days," John Hurst 
 would say, softly, to his wife. "I was so afraid of danger for 
 him. I wanted to do the best to lead him to God but " 
 tremulously "he is finding his own way. It was too high a 
 work to be trusted to my feeble hands. God did not deem me 
 worthy." 
 
 "Yet God sends you the fruits," in her tender, comforting 
 manner. 
 
 For Victor seldom strayed into those hard, skeptical, un 
 reasoning moods. Life was so much grander out here among 
 the mountains, where a man saw the works of God daily. 
 Adversity may be a good teacher, but is it always necessary to 
 suffer in order to be able to enjoy? Do not some poor souls 
 hunger and thirst until all appetite is gone? And when at last 
 the starved life blossoms palely, the fountain is filled, and the 
 stunted trees begin to bear fruit, the zest of youth and hope is 
 over, and the grave only looks promising in its awesome rest. 
 
 Prosperity, and the friendship of such a man as Trewartha, 
 was rapidly developing the best and richest qualities in Victor 
 Hurst's nature. ,|A broad, generous life does more toward 
 making noble men and women than any purely ascetic train-
 
 292 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ing that starves one faculty to develop others.j/And though 
 many brave souls have come up through much tribulation, 
 found their way to the mountain-tops over thorny paths, indeed; 
 there is still in minds, not strongly tinctured by self-love and 
 pride, an awful consciousness of loss, a dreary remembrance 
 of the time when a kindly hand might have been stretched out 
 and was withheld, when a word would have encouraged and 
 there was silence, when a smile would have mellowed and 
 goldened the chilly atmosphere, and the lips, whose giving 
 would not have impoverished, were still and cold. 
 
 Affairs at the quarry went on quietly enough. True, there 
 was a rumor of Jarvis having been seen in the vicinity ; but he 
 troubled none of the workmen. Victor felt quite assured that 
 he would never be able to get together a sufficient number of 
 the disaffected to make another assault, after the first had been 
 so ignominiously frustrated. 
 
 The new men were prompt, energetic, and orderly. He 
 always spent his mornings with them ; but much of the after 
 noon was devoted to his own dream, in which business had no 
 part nor lot Trewartha had gone carefully over the three 
 pieces with him, criticising, suggesting, and explaining points 
 in which Victor was groping about in misty darkness. Of the 
 three, the Tantalus pleased Trewartha best ; for he read in it 
 the deeper spiritual thirst of the soul whose conception it had 
 been, and the hours of patient toil that under so many disad 
 vantages had still fashioned it with the most loving care. 
 
 One afternoon Victor had been unusually busy, superintend 
 ing the loading of stone. A side switch of a quarter of a 
 mile had been run out to the quarry, and the cars soon 
 traversed the distance from thence to Taunton. King was not 
 yet able to be about, and on such days as these every one lent 
 a hand. At last the derrick ceased its creaking, the glim old 
 engine uttered its hoarse shriek and blew out its volume of 
 dense smoke, winding slowly around the side of the rocky 
 ledge.
 
 With Fate against Him. 293 
 
 It was a sultry afternoon late in August, and Victor felt too 
 warm and too tired for his usual recreation. Tantalus would 
 utter no moan there in his darkness and silence. 
 
 Yet one of those peculiar subtile moods that we afterward 
 call presentiments was strong upon him, and seemed to lure 
 him thither by promise of coolness and restful quiet. His 
 own little nook had become a place of delightful refuge to 
 him : nature's studio indeed, with its fragrant airs, its ever 
 changing light and shade. 
 
 To-day the leaves scarcely stirred. The pines seemed 
 drooping and dusty, the stray spires of golden rod growing in 
 stunted groups were pale and dingy, and the tufts of balsam 
 had a dried and wintry look already. 
 
 Before he reached the place he heard a stir and crunching 
 on the ground as of a footstep. 
 
 "It is Trewartha," he thought, springing forward. 
 
 Then a crash that seemed to shiver even the rock to atoms, 
 so distorted was it to his surprised ear. 
 
 tie took the scene in at a lightning glance. Jarvis had 
 rifled his box, whose treasures were better than buried gold, 
 and at a blow from the self-constituted iconoclast, Tantalus' 
 dumb longing had perished in fragments. The face of Sylvia 
 gleamed white, imploring, Victor thought, and the brawny 
 arm, with its huge hammer, was about to scatter ruin a second 
 time, when Victor sprang forward with one passionate, well- 
 directed blow; the weapon fell, and the miscreant rolled over in 
 the short, worn turf! 
 
 It seemed to Victor, in the first -moment of rage, as if he 
 could have beaten him to a jelly; then the prostrate figure 
 appealed curiously to him, almost disarming in its helplessness 
 the bitter resentment. He touched it with his foot, for the 
 sight of the bloated purple face sickened him. 
 
 The wretch had been only stunned. He rolled his bleared 
 eyes with a groan. 
 
 For weeks Jarvis had been going from bad to worse. No
 
 294 With Fate against Him. 
 
 family ties restrained him, and the money he managed to pick 
 up in odd jobs had been spent for rum, since any clump of 
 woods was sufficient couch for these warm nights. 
 
 Victor gathered the two faces out of the ruins : the McRae 
 seeming to smile grimly and exultant, and the poor, pale, 
 beseeching Sylvia it was as if he had rescued her from 
 some great peril, and his soul gave an answering, vehement 
 throb. 
 
 "Wretch!" he exclaimed, as the man began to writhe, 
 "how dared you ? Was there nothing else, but you must steal 
 like a thief into this place to blast and destroy ?" 
 
 "I finished your fine work for you !" with an oath and a 
 coarse sneer; "only I didn't do half enough !" and Jarvis 
 raised himself on his elbow, groaning with a twinge of pain. 
 
 A dog could hardly have been of less import in Victor's 
 eyes, and yet he knew the man was an immortal being. Was 
 he ? and the old skeptical doubt rushed over him. What did 
 God mean to do with these vile, miserable souls in the end ? 
 However, his passion had passed, and instead of vengeance 
 there was only loathing in his heart. So he looked at him out 
 of clear, masterly eyes, that made Jarvis cower beneath the 
 indignant glance. 
 
 "I hate you!" he said, angrily. "What business had you 
 to come here and lord it over us, because yon old woman 
 backed you ? She took you out of the slough, and you give 
 yourself fine airs, but they don't go down with me." 
 
 Victor smiled scornfully over his prostrate foe. 
 
 "I have not lorded it over any one," he returned. "It 
 has been an even bargain on both sides fair work and fair 
 wages. If you do not choose to take them, stay away then. 
 Indeed, that was your part of the agreement" 
 
 "I agreed to nothing," sullenly. 
 
 "I believe you did promise to keep the peace, but your 
 word is like yourself, not to be trusted. "
 
 With Fate against Him. 295 
 
 Victor ran briefly over the case in his mind. To hand the 
 man over to the authorities would be dragging himself into 
 notoriety as well, a thing that he did not at all covet. And 
 when he caught sight of the bruised face and swollen eye, and 
 saw the twinges of pain that passed over the features, his anger 
 was satisfied. As for the keener grief, nothing dragged out of 
 this brutish nature could compensate for that. So he began 
 to gather up the tools and his remaining precious relics. 
 
 Something in Victor Hurst's quiet, superior air maddened 
 the low instincts of the prostrate bully more than the bitterest 
 speech could have done. The refinement and manly beauty 
 roused him, as the contrast always does an ignorant, grovelling 
 nature, that is fain to drag every human soul down to its own 
 low estate. 
 
 He turned once. Jarvis was making unsteady attempts to 
 rise. 
 
 " I give you fair warning ;" and the voice rang out sharply 
 clear. "Cross my path again and I will see if there is no law 
 to protect a man from a bully and a base, dishonorable coward. 
 That is all." 
 
 Jarvis looked after him, and shook his fist in impotent rage. 
 
 " I'll be even with you yet, cursed upstart that you are !" he 
 muttered. "Law! There's a way of taking the law in my 
 own hands that you mayn't like so well, especially if it 
 should chance to spoil your handsome picture.' What a hand 
 the man has like a sledge hammer." And Jarvis rubbed him 
 self ruefully, groaning at the results of the blow and the fall. 
 
 "Yes, I'll be revenged !" trying to collect his scattered senses. 
 "Ill dog him in another way. We'll see who'll win this game, 
 my hearty." 
 
 Victor Hurst, walking rapidly away, heard none of the 
 threats, though they would not have added to his soreness of 
 heart. 
 
 He studied the marble face a long while that night before he
 
 296 With Fate against Him. 
 
 consigned it to the old chest that held the remnant of his 
 drawings. The other attempts had long ago perished in the 
 flames. 
 
 Was she happy the Sylvia, in that charming nest among the 
 mountains ? She had won what women most desired smiling 
 with a little pain and scorn. And then if as Trewartha had 
 more than half suggested this weak, characterless Eustace 
 Gilliat had been her girlish fancy, nothing could have made 
 any difference, nothing 1
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 JANET McRAE was looking out of the window at the old 
 oak, struck by lightning many years ago, but not killed. 
 Every summer the scattering foliage had grown smaller and 
 smaller. This year one twig, high up, had budded, and 
 showed a handful of leaves that withered at midsummer. Now 
 it was dead. 
 
 She was thinking of herself. It seemed of late that she had 
 felt hardly so strong and vigorous. A weak, womanly longing 
 to lay down the power in her tired hands and rest a while, 
 sometimes seized her. And though she would have confessed 
 this to no one, she had not made the headway with Victor 
 Hurst that she had counted upon. Something in his silent 
 strength baffled her. She could crowd him into no post of 
 honor. She could clothe him with no authority. The present 
 master of the quarry, filling this one large contract, was all he 
 would be. 
 
 Some day they would carry her slowly over to the little plain 
 dotted with white gravestones. Who, beside Ruth, would 
 reign here ? Ruth, who was slipping out of the stately girl 
 hood in which she had enthroned her, coming to have troubled 
 lines in her face, and grave, questioning looks in her eyes. 
 
 A light wagon came spinning up the gravelled road, and 
 she recognized the figure of Victor Hurst, so she straightened 
 herself up stifly, smoothed the mane of white hair, and settled 
 her mouth to its grimmest aspect. 
 
 The old servant announced him as if he were quite a 
 stranger. 
 
 "Well, lad, "with a brief, cold nod, "what's wrong at the 
 
 I?*
 
 298 With Fate against Him. 
 
 i 
 
 quarry again ? For one may never hope to see you of a morn 
 ing unless there is trouble." 
 
 "It is not that, however," bowing, and taking her hand 
 with a peculiar deference that made her always think of the 
 knightly men in her girlhood's romances. 
 
 She would give him no farther encouragement. If he had 
 come upon his own business, he must open the way. She had 
 heard not an hour ago that John Hurst was as well as usual, so 
 it could not be sickness. 
 
 " I am glad to find you alone," he began, rather hurridly. 
 "An incident occurred to me on Monday that has perplexed 
 me not a little." 
 
 " You have taken two days to consider it, it seems ;" rather 
 tartly, folding and refolding the paper in her hand, a sign 
 that she was not in the serenest humor. 
 
 "Yes," in no wise disconcerted by her words or manner. 
 ' ' And not being able to solve it, I come to you. I think once 
 you said there was a doubt whether Sylvia Redmond's father 
 was really dead?" 
 
 " And what have you to do with Sylvia Redmond's father ? 
 It can be nothing to you whether he is dead or alive." 
 
 "It is something, however," in a grave tone. 
 
 " He is dead, of course. The only sensible thing the man 
 ever did was to die when his wife tired of him, which certainly 
 was the truth. Such vows are not made for better, for worse, 
 it appears." 
 
 Victor looked a little uncertain. Janet McRae was clearly 
 not in an amiable mood. 
 
 ' ' On Monday I found a poor man not far from my door, 
 ill and very much exhausted. Nearly a fortnight before he 
 had been at the quarry, asking the most direct route to St. 
 Albans ; and recognizing him, I gave him shelter. The next 
 day he seemed very weakly, but yesterday he attempted to con 
 tinue his journey. He was taken worse only a few rods from 
 the house, and last night we thought him dying,"
 
 WitJi Fate against Him. 299 
 
 "What right have you to be receiving tramps in that fashion, 
 Victor Hurst?" 
 
 "The divine right of every one to shelter the sick and 
 homeless. He is feeble, and wandering in his mind, so I 
 hardly dared believe " 
 
 "He doesn't claim to be James Redmond?'' 
 
 Mrs. McRae started as if she had received the shock of a 
 galvanic battery. 
 
 "Yes " hesitatingly. "It almost appears as if he must 
 have seen Mrs. Redmond lately." 
 
 "The poor, neglected old man ! Perhaps they have thrown 
 him off. I think it would be like Margaret Redmond, now 
 that she is about to marry her daughter so grandly. A mis 
 erable, whining sham and parasite ! I must see this man." 
 
 Her voice was almost shrill in its earnestness. 
 
 "Yes, I came for you. I thought you could tell " 
 
 "I should know James Redmond. A weak, maunder 
 ing fellow ; one of your sickly fine gentlemen, whose very 
 fingers shrink from contact with anything common or useful. 
 \Yhy, Jacob out there, spading, has been of twice the service. 
 Yes, I will go. I am glad you came, though you roused the 
 old lioness in no gentle mood, I assure you." 
 
 Victor smiled. Something in his quiet smile always dis 
 armed her. 
 
 She hurried on her bonnet and mantle, and he handed her 
 into the wagon. 
 
 "Tell me the particulars of this strange case," she said, as 
 soon as they were started. 
 
 Victor related them more at length. She listened with 
 curious avidity, half-angry lights coming and going in her 
 strong, clear eyes. 
 
 "If it is true that they have turned him away to die among 
 strangers, they shall rue it ; mind that, Victor Hurst ! I could 
 forgive any crime more readily." 
 
 He drove rapidly, and they soon reached the little cottage,
 
 300 With Fate against Him. 
 
 where Hester was mopping the steps. Janet McRae picked 
 up her skirts and strode along impatiently. 
 
 "I carried him up-stairs," Victor said, "so that he should 
 not disturb my father." 
 
 She followed him to the room, so clean, so cool, and peace 
 ful that it seemed as if a soul might go straight from thence 
 to heaven. Anah Hurst was watching. 
 
 You could see at a glance that the dying man had been a 
 gentleman, if outward signs proved anything. The high, 
 scholarly forehead ; the fine, pale skin, transparent now ; the 
 aristocratic contour of the features ; the slender fingers, with 
 their long, thin nails. And yet there was about the man a 
 curious mental weakness, as if, when the rude waves of life 
 washed against him, he could not buffet them back. A help 
 less, useless, wasted soul, always weakly striving, always 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 Janet McRae studied the face sharply. As if he felt a new 
 presence, he opened his eyes with a frightened, entreating 
 glance. Victor held his breath. Did he want Sylvia Red 
 mond convicted of any monstrous sin ? 
 
 "James Redmond !" in her clear, breezy voice. "Look at 
 me well an old friend do you know me ?" 
 
 The feeble mind seemed to flutter in the weak eyes as he 
 made an effort, guided by the voice ; for he listened after the 
 sound had ceased. 
 
 " There was some one " speaking slowly and with great 
 difficulty ' ' Cragness, I think. If Rachel- it is Janet McRae." 
 
 She turned toward Victor. 
 
 "The man told the truth, you see." 
 
 He went maundering on much as he had through the night. 
 Now and then he cried out for Sylvia, or begged Margaret to 
 be pitiful. 
 
 ' ' Only let me see her once. I will not speak I will not 
 call her child. My darling little Sylvia. Ah, how lovely her 
 golden curls used to be 1"
 
 With Fate against Him. 301 
 
 Janet McRae listened to the feeble plaints for some time, 
 considering in her mind, not the wisest step, but the one that 
 would have in it the truest justice. Perhaps, too, her straight 
 forward mind was a little warped by its own strength. 
 
 " I sent over to the village for a physician," Victor said. 
 "If Trewartha " 
 
 She shook her head. " It is too late for human skill, still, 
 that was proper." Then after a pause "I shall go to St. 
 Albans myself. Surely Margaret Redmond and her daughter 
 can leave their gaieties for a few hours and take their rightful 
 place. No, you need not attend me. I will drive your horse 
 home and send him back by one of the servants." 
 
 With that Janet McRae started. Give her a duty to any 
 human creature, especially if there was a chance for dispensing 
 what she called justice, and she would have gone to the world's 
 end. 
 
 Victor went down to the quarry afterward, but soon returned, 
 It was such a strange, restless day. Sylvia, whom he had only 
 seen by brief glimpses for the past two months, coming to this 
 house again. In his eyes she appeared, verily and truly, 
 Eustace Gilliat's wife. Whether there was anything to regret, 
 whether he would have hindered if he could, were unanswer 
 able questions. Yet it seemed as if something new and strange 
 stirred within his heart, an emotion which he could not analyze 
 or fathom. 
 
 Janet McRae went straight about her business as any 
 Nemesis. The ponies trotted with long graceful sweeps, but 
 she gave them no encouraging chirrup. The slopes of the 
 undulating mountain-side began to hang out flaming autumn 
 signals to entrap idle wayfarers, but she heeded them not. In 
 her mind she was preparing Margaret Redmond a scathing 
 sermon. 
 
 "Mrs. Redmond will not be home until evening," the 
 servant said, eyeing the majestic old woman with the utmost 
 astonishment. " But Miss Redmond "
 
 302 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Tell her that Mrs. McRae, of Cragness, wishes to see 
 her ;" with an imperious wave of the hand. 
 
 Sylvia started from her reverie. She had not been included 
 in the party, for two very good reasons. Eustace had voted it 
 a bore and a nuisance, and would not go ; so she made the 
 most of her headache, taking her toast and tea in her own 
 room. Mrs. Redmond had not chosen to confess that she did 
 not care to have her daughter de trap, since her escort was to 
 be an old admirer of her youth, Mr. Milnor. 
 
 First Sylvia had indulged in a long passionate fit of weep 
 ing. She was so very miserable in these days. The net 
 closed tighter about her every hour. Every wild dream of free 
 dom had been baffled. It seemed to her that coldness, pettish- 
 ness, and absolute ill-temper, attracted instead of repelling 
 Eustace Gilliat, and Mrs. Gilliat came to have a strange, cling 
 ing love for her, that grew stronger day by day. Neither 
 mother nor son dreamed of her secret dissatisfaction. It 
 appeared as if they had both been stricken by some fatal blind 
 ness. 
 
 If her own mother suspected it, she too was wary. En 
 trenched in her own complacency and pride, Mrs. Gilliat was 
 hardly likely to suppose this girl, who had now and then been 
 her son's playmate, could have the slightest objection to a mar 
 riage that would prove so fortunate for her in a worldly point of 
 view. But Mrs. Redmond found Sylvia's beliefs and opinions 
 quite heretical, and used all her sophistries to conquer them. 
 
 "I should not have allowed her to visit those foolish old 
 women, the Braisteds, for between them and Mrs. McRae they 
 have filled the child's head full of nonsense." 
 
 So she labored zealously to eradicate it, refusing all requests 
 for even the briefest visits to that dangerous vicinity, and at 
 last becoming so harassed and nervous that Sylvia's soul was 
 moved to a strange pity. 
 
 "It was some losses," Mrs. Redmond confessed, "I can 
 never be thankful enough, Sylvia, that you are to marry so well.
 
 With Fate against Him. 303 
 
 It was so thoughtful in Mrs. Gilliat to propose our going directly 
 to Rothermel. I wish we were there now." 
 
 But Sylvia did not. Entering those gates was setting the 
 seal of slavery upon her very soul. Could no one see her 
 miser)' ? For herself, she knew that she was growing haggard 
 with the weight of this burden, that her eyes were sunken and 
 heavy, her spirits dull, her step languid. 
 
 After her tears Sylvia felt stronger calmer. Could she bind her 
 soul by this base chain, in which the spirit had no correspond 
 ence ; bow to fetters that she must loathe and struggle against 
 to the death ? A thousand times no, said revolting nature. 
 
 And yet she knew just such tempests, just such resolves, had 
 been succeeded by apathetical endurance. Would it be so 
 always, to the bitter end ? Would God open no door of escape, 
 because she had so weakly sold her woman's birthright ? 
 
 She had requested that Mrs. McRae might be sent up to her 
 room. But when she saw that tall, rigid figure, with the stern, 
 unpitying face, her heart died within her, and a new terror 
 shook her wrought nerves and quivering frame. Timidly she 
 came forward, and held out her hand ; but something in both 
 face and figure touched her visitor strangely. Not the girlish 
 Sylvia of three months ago, or of any time that she had ever 
 known. 
 
 ' ' I am the bearer of unwelcome news, doubtless, Miss Red 
 mond," and the voice was chilling. " I regret very much that 
 your mother is away. Your father is at Cragness, dying." 
 
 "My father !" She looked at Mrs. McRae sharply, to see if 
 she were in full possession of her senses. " My father !" with 
 an incredulous little laugh that was hard and strained. "' Why, 
 you know he died long ago !" 
 
 " He is not dead," with a kind of stiff, hard resentment. 
 "That was the story on what grounds I do not know. This 
 very morning I saw him, and he recognized me. Victor Hurst 
 found him by the road-side, like a common pauper, and gave 
 him shelter."
 
 304 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Uttering this in her keenest tone, she glanced Sylvia over. 
 The soft silk morning dress ; the delicate laces, rumpled but 
 still beautiful ; the diamond shining on her finger ; the ear 
 rings and brooch of pearl that suited so well her lovely com 
 plexion, and she was glad she had stung her with that one 
 word, "pauper!" 
 
 "Papa 1 Are you quite sure ?" in a slow, dazed way. 
 
 "Am I sure?" 
 
 The ponderous jaw seemed to bite off the word in indignation. 
 
 Then Sylvia was kneeling at her feet, crying with a kind of 
 hysteric passion 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. McRae, take me to him! Poor papa, whom 
 we have thought dead so long, so long ! He used to love me 
 so dearly, and call me his little Sylvia, and hold me on his 
 knee.- Oh, is it true ? You are not mistaken ?" 
 
 The eyes were wide open with feverish light, and the dry 
 lips quivered piteously. 
 
 "Then you did not know " 
 
 ''Know! How should I? Why did he not come here/ 
 Oh papa, poor, friendless, and dying !" and a sob choked her 
 voice. 
 
 "Child," Janet McRae said, softening, " get yourself ready, 
 and let us go. We have not a moment to lose. " 
 
 Sylvia changed her dress, and smoothed her soft shining hair. 
 Her tern pies throbbed, for the old ache had returned, and every 
 nerve in her body felt strained at the shock, though she could 
 hardly credit the tidings. But to go away under Janet McRae 's 
 strong wing almost promised liberty. Ah, little did she guess 
 how it was to come. 
 
 " I must write a note for mamma. I think they will bring 
 her over immediately, if she is not too tired." 
 
 Mrs. McRae's lips curled. Might there not be something 
 besides fatigue ? 
 
 Sylvia was ready presently. She slipped her hot, throbbing, 
 ungloved hand within the one so cool and calm, whose life had
 
 With Fate against Him. 305 
 
 been like a broad, placid river. An infinite pity stole into the 
 great stern heart for this poor little girl, with all her hideously 
 brilliant prospects. Oh, how could a mother thus sacrifice her 
 child, wed her to a base, unprincipled profligate ? for already 
 there had been more than one wild story afloat concerning 
 Eustace Gilliat. But it was the way of the world. Truth, un 
 stained honor, and manhood counted for nothing against gold, 
 and having that, vice was glossed over. 
 
 When Mrs. McRae's first heat of prejudice began to subside 
 she scanned Sylvia's face more narrowly perhaps to find the 
 traces of vanity and self-love that could feed upon this glitter 
 ing prospect. 
 
 The smooth outline of pink and pearly flesh was worn and 
 sharpened a little ; the careless girl's mouth, with its brilliant 
 smiles and small petulancies, had been shaped into something 
 noble, tender, and patient. No one but herself would ever 
 know the pains that had cultured it to a finer heritage than 
 mere physical beauty, a positive strength quite capable of ex 
 erting itself in any great strait, yet veiled and tempered by some 
 sad knowledge that had dawned too soon over this young soul. 
 And in the drooping eyes there was strange dreariness, as if 
 she had sounded the hollowness of the rocks whereon she ex 
 pected to place her feet, and found that some black, dangerous 
 current swept through the interstices beneath. And then the 
 great sympathetic heart warmed to her, as it had used to the 
 little child she held upon her knee. 
 
 "They shall not blight her whole life," she mused inwardly. 
 " She is better and finer than I thought. Some drops of gold 
 have mingled with the weak white clay her parents had to 
 give her." 
 
 "Tell me about papa," Sylvia said presently, in a broken 
 voice. 
 
 "There is not much, my dear," and the tone softened un 
 consciously. "I saw him for a mere half-hour. But you 
 shall have that little."
 
 306 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Victor Hurst was very kind," after the story had ended. 
 " Poor, poor papa ! You do not think he could have come to 
 St. Albans?" 
 
 Even as she spoke a conscious shiver sped through her 
 pulses. She had learned so much of her mother's petty weak 
 ness, false pride, and numerous little subterfuges that were 
 hardly truth. And if she had believed it would interfere with 
 her social standing, or the luxuries she deemed so essential 
 to her well-being ah, she was her mother still, and it was 
 cruel so to judge her. 
 
 "It is very probable, my dear;" in a dry, hard tone. She 
 could not excuse Margaret Redmond's weak, narrow, pleasure- 
 loving nature. 
 
 There was no word spoken after that. The ponies were 
 flecked with foam long ere they reached the quarry and saw the 
 old watch-tower of Cragness standing on its hill, with the 
 higher one behind keeping guard in its purple-gray afternoon 
 haze. 
 
 Mrs. Hurst came out to meet them. She took Sylvia in her 
 arms and kissed the tired face. Motherly caresses came so 
 natural to this woman. 
 
 " You must rest a little," she said, in her cooing, persuasive 
 voice. " Here is a plate of peaches and cream, it will refresh 
 you." 
 
 She took off Sylvia's hat, brought a napkin wet in fresh 
 lavender water, and softly wiped the heat and dust from the 
 fevered skin. Here was a cluster of Malmaison roses in a tall, 
 slender vase, and a spray or two of heliotrope diffusing its 
 pungent odor. If Sylvia dared but lay her head on this tender 
 bosom and cry noiselessly until the bitter ache in her heart 
 tvas washed away ! 
 
 "Now take me to him, please." 
 
 She passed Victor in the hall. At the door Mrs. Hurst drew 
 back. 
 
 " Come, " Sylvia entreated. " I think you will pity, judge
 
 With fate against Him. 307 
 
 mercifully. All these careless years I have thought him dead, 
 you know ;" as if to justify her past volatile girlhood. 
 
 She went up to the bed with a strange awe. She had never 
 seen anything so wan and weak, so pinched and sunken. It 
 was as if you might read a story of genteel hunger, privation, 
 and loneliness in every line of the face. The lips had shrunken 
 to a mere thread. 
 
 He was dozing and dreaming, but the respirations were so 
 short and feeble, the greenish pallor so marked. 
 
 "Let me see her only once, Margaret !" the gasping voice 
 murmured faintly. "My little Sylvia ! If I could have one 
 kiss from her fresh young lips I might give her up to this 
 lover, who is not worthy of her, Margaret, not worthy !" 
 
 " Papa !" The voice was curiously steady, for in that brief 
 instant she had decided her fate anew. Did God demand that 
 she should wreck her own soul for another's bodily comfort 
 and satisfaction ? 
 
 " Papa, I am here, little Sylvia !" 
 
 She bowed until her soft curls brushed against his cheek. 
 She kissed the cold lips, took the wasted hands in hers. 
 
 A quiver ran through his frame with the power and agony 
 of a mortal spasm. He glanced wildly at her and rolled his 
 head feebly upon the pillow. 
 
 ' ' No, it is not Sylvia. Margaret, you deceive me. Sylvia 
 has gone with her young lover." 
 
 "I could not always remain little as when I sat upon your 
 knee and pulled your soft beard about, or listened to stories of 
 beautiful brave queens, of kings and knights and crusaders. 
 But I remember the long evenings at cousin Braisted's, when 
 mamma would be ill upon the sofa, and we sat and studied 
 the fire, built castles and palaces and flame-pictures such as 
 no artist ever painted. Look at me, dear. It is the child 
 grown into the woman, but the child's heart still aches for 
 the empty years out of which you have fallen. Papa I 
 Papa !"
 
 308 With Fate against Him. 
 
 The pathetic cry, the voice strong and sad as death itself, 
 shook the centre of his unbelief. The eyes stared with 
 spasmodic brightness, the hands clutched at her garments. 
 
 "And through all these years, when I have thought of you 
 as being at rest in heaven, I have treasured up all the old 
 remembrances, the walks we used to take, the poems you 
 taught me, the books we read together. Ah, why did you not 
 come sooner ? Why did you linger desolate and forlorn, when 
 your child's heart would have been full of tender love for 
 you." 
 
 She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed softly. Ah, it was 
 well that she was never to know the sufferings of those years. 
 The long illness in a hospital, from whence had come the 
 rumor of his death ; his hesitation to announce himself when 
 he found that his wife had been received into her father's house; 
 his weak ambition to do something that would give him the 
 success other men gained ; the struggles, the defeats, the drear 
 nights in miserable attics, trying to extract from his confused 
 and wandering brain brilliant ideas that never even came ; days 
 when he had hovered at the doors and gratings of restaurants 
 for a little warmth and savory odor to appease his hunger. A 
 poor, weak, but proud and honorable gentleman, pushed to 
 the wall by the stronger ones. Perhaps a true woman's love 
 ir.ight have imparted stamina, encouraged and brightened ; but 
 when Margaret Redmond came to the dregs of poverty, she 
 could do nothing but bemoan her own sad fate. 
 
 He touched the soft cheek with his finger, that shook like a 
 stray leaf in a November blast, caught feebly at the floating 
 curls, and then smiled. 
 
 "Yes, it is Sylvia !" 
 
 She uttered a wild little cry, for she thought him dying. 
 Mrs. Hurst came and bathed the pallid face, and chafed the 
 cold hands. 
 
 "Don't leave me!" he entreated, pitifully, grasping at the 
 air.
 
 With Fate against Him. 309 
 
 "No, I shall not. Dear, dear papa !" 
 
 Afterward he dozed again. The room began to be shrouded 
 in twilight, and when Mrs. Hurst brought in a lamp she begged 
 her to leave it on the hall-table. She sat on the bed's side now, 
 talking sweet and slow, and listening to the broken sentences, 
 kissing the wrinkled cheek, the straggling hair, and the cold 
 hands that began to grow mysteriously useless. All the vehe 
 ment child's love came back to her. She had never been 
 ashamed of him in those old days, for there was no pride to 
 be stung by unsuccess. And now that he was dying, the 
 chivalrous girl's heart, so much finer and nobler than any of 
 them had dreamed, would have covered sins as well as mistakes 
 and failures, and kissed down the fluttering eyelids that none 
 might see their secret. 
 
 The frail life floated on and on. Trewartha came and 
 looked at him and whispered softly "At midnight." Janet 
 McRae wandered up and down as if held by some curious 
 spell ; but Anah Hurst was strangly sweet and tranquil. 
 
 Sometime after the night had set in, and fitful gusts were 
 blowing blue-black drifts about the pale moon-tinted sky, they 
 heard a sound of furious driving that stopped at the door, and 
 then a rather thick, imperious voice demanding "Miss Red 
 mond." 
 
 Sylvia shivered with mental anguish and shame 
 
 Presently Victor came up-stairs. 
 
 " Your mother is ill," he said, "and in great alarm. She 
 has sent for you. " 
 
 Sylvia Redmond straightened her slight figure, though her 
 face was deathly white. But her tone was clear and untrem- 
 bling. 
 
 "Tell Eustace Gilliat that my place is here, at my father's 
 side, until God frees me. Even if it were otherwise, I could 
 not return with him to-night" 
 
 Victor remarked the convulsive shiver. Ah, how could she 
 have given that despicable creature any power over her ?
 
 310 With Fate against Him. 
 
 ' ' But your mother ?" 
 
 " Mamma will understand. I think I am right ;" with slow 
 hesitation, glancing into his eyes. 
 
 "You are right." He could not help but utter the words, 
 for if she had been willing he must have kept her from the 
 questionable journey. 
 
 "Ask him to take my love and sympathy to mamma. She 
 has kind friends, and he needs me." 
 
 Anah Hurst had been standing ghostly white since the name 
 dropped from her son's lips. Now she came close to Sylvia, 
 and said in a faint, hollow tone 
 
 "There was a Kirke Gilliat I once heard of;" her hand 
 going over her eyes with the long unused gesture. 
 
 "It is his son ;" with a shiver. 
 
 " You are to marry him " 
 
 "Oh, can I?" crowding down. a gasping, hysterical breath. 
 "Mrs. Gilliat is mamma's friend : they will both be kind to 
 her in this trouble, I think. But it might be a disgrace in 
 their eyes. They are very proud. " 
 
 Anah kissed her with sudden fervor, then went to the win 
 dow. The voices below made her heart stand still with fear. 
 Was it Kirke Gilliat's son uttering those angry oaths to her 
 child ? 
 
 Presently the horses moved on, and the clump of maples 
 between broke the sound. The old clock in the corner be 
 gan to strike slowly, but before it had told off its count of 
 nine, a sharp, ringing thrill pierced the air, stunning them all 
 with mortal terror. 
 
 After that a long, awesome silence. Five minutes, perhaps, 
 elapsed before Victor Hurst entered ; but to them it appeared 
 half a lifetime. His face was flushed and the lips firmly set ; 
 but he was unharmed. That brought them a great feeling of 
 relief, yet no one asked a question. 
 
 "The hand of Kirke Gilliat's son raised against him," 
 Anah Hurst thought, with a sickening shiver.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE quarrel had been bitter enough on the one side. 
 Eustace Gilliat affected to believe the tidings that called 
 Sylvia thither, a mere ruse. He had come in after a day's 
 hunting dissipation, rather the worse for the champagne and 
 brandy that had washed down the dinner. Mrs. Redmond, 
 in hysterics, making strange of the intelligence, bewailing, 
 calling upon Sylvia, and denouncing Mrs. McRae, fired the 
 weak and over-heated brain into ill-judged championship. 
 More than all, Sylvia was among the Hursts. 
 
 If he had felt certain of her regard for him, he would doubt 
 less have waited until morning. But his jealous passion, his 
 rights that had been so disregarded, and grudging hatred for 
 the old blow, was strong upon him. And was he not shortly 
 to be Sylvia's master ? As well give her a lesson in obedience 
 and consideration now. 
 
 So he summoned Jules, who would fain have dissuaded 
 him ; but in such a mood as this, Eustace Gilliat was incapa 
 ble of reasoning. Mrs. Gilliat was too much occupied with 
 her friend to understand the true import of her son's resolve. 
 
 Victor went out to the road to learn who these late visitors 
 might be, and was met by a sudden and peremptory demand 
 for Miss Redmond. 
 
 "Her father is dying," he answered. "If it is necessary, 
 Mrs. McRae will bring her back in the morning ; but she 
 would hardly go to-night." 
 
 Eustace Gilliat answered this by an offensive assumption of 
 authority that brought Victor's blood to a white heat. And as 
 he leaned out of the carriage, his breath still hot with the
 
 312 With Fate against Him. 
 
 liquor rioting in his brain, Victor could have crushed him in 
 the dust like any unclean thing. This man to marry Sylvia 
 Redmond ! Why, he was a hundred times more loathsome 
 and disgusting than the boy at Bohmerwald. 
 
 "She will not go," he said, firmly. "Her friends would 
 be wild to allow it. Why, you cannot reach St. Albans before 
 midnight." 
 
 ' ' Sylvia Redmond is answerable to no one save her mother 
 and myself. Will you take my message, or shall I ?" 
 
 Victor understood which way would be the best, and he 
 could almost hear Sylvia's answer before she had uttered it 
 He brought back the refusal courteously. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat was fearfully enraged. In another moment 
 he would have leaped from the carriage. Victor held him in 
 with a strong arm. 
 
 "Listen," he began calmly. "Yonder house is mine; 
 and you shall not step across its threshold to-night. I should 
 as soon think of thrusting Sylvia Redmond to the edge of 
 some dangerous precipice as to hand her over to your care. 
 Her father is dying -no imposter, though you may choose to 
 think so. Go peaceably away, and to-morrow assert your 
 authority, if you have any." 
 
 As he spoke he caught the leader's rein and ran down the 
 road like a flash. Neither Sylvia's ears nor his mother's 
 should be wounded by this drunken braggadocio. 
 
 ' ' Now, " he continued, ' ' go your way. If you have any sense, 
 any natural feeling, you must know that a death-bed of all 
 other places should be held sacred from intrusion." 
 
 There was a rift of moonlight creeping through the cloud's 
 ragged edge. Eustace Gilliat snatched the whip from its socket, 
 but before he could strike, a strong hand had wrenched the 
 weapon from him, and a stinging laugh smote his ear. 
 
 "It is useless to try- the strength of arm or brain with me, 
 Eustace Gilliat, as you might have known," he said, scornfully. 
 "Go your way in peace."
 
 With Fate against Him. 313 
 
 For an instant the man, in his helpless, impotent wrath, knew 
 not what to do. 
 
 "You love her" he hissed. "Ah, I have guessed that 
 secret between you, and why she came at a word, on this weak 
 excuse. Filial love ! ha ! ha ! But I want to tell you that 
 she shall be my wife in the face of man or devil. If she hated 
 me, I should still marry her. If her father is proven a vagabond 
 or criminal, that will not stand in my way. I have not for 
 gotten that old night, and the blow you gave me. I can strike 
 you back now. If it were ten years instead of two, I should 
 remember it, and be revenged." 
 
 Something seemed to stifle heart and brain. Victor caught 
 at a breath of wandering air, as if it had been his salvation. 
 Sylvia Redmond this man's wife ! Her pure, sweet girlhood 
 mated to this base, vile, unclean being ! Was this the high 
 station that he had once almost envied ? 
 
 " Ah, that stings you, does it ?" thus translating his silence. 
 "I shall bring down her haughty pride as well ; she wears a 
 diamond now, my fetter, and I shall load her with others, that 
 may glitter in the world's sight, but be the chain of a galley- 
 slave to her, if she ventures to rebel. And if you dare to cross 
 her path " 
 
 "I have no desire," in a strong, cold voice. " Leave her 
 to-night in peace ; it is all I ask." 
 
 He turned the horse again, and nodded to the driver. Jules 
 felt that his master's anger rendered him indiscreet, and that 
 it would be wiser to put an end to the parleying. 
 
 Victor made a sudden plunge in the group of trees as the 
 horses started. The darkness seemed to drop at that moment, 
 as if the whole heavens were obscured. And then a sound that 
 caused him to shiver, to start and see if he were unharmed. 
 
 "A coward's revenge," he muttered, but he entered the house 
 with a startled face. In the midst of the awesome silence the 
 bell in his father's room summoned assistance or favor from 
 some one, and he left them without an explanation. 
 
 14
 
 314 With Fate against Him. 
 
 At midnight, as Trewartha had said, the poor stranded soul 
 was loosed from the shoals among which it had floated, and 
 passed out to the broad ocean, its futile efforts ended. Very 
 peacefully, as if at rest, and glad to lay down the burden. On 
 the other side, God took it into account, knowing the weakness 
 and frustrated hopes better than any human eye. 
 
 Mrs. McRae almost carried the unresisting Sylvia down 
 stairs in her arms, and laid her on the sofa. The wide open 
 eyes were tearless, and all the bright color had faded from the 
 lips. It was partly terror, for the mystery and fearful power 
 of death, witnessed for the first time, chills young blood. But 
 something deeper still was stirring in her soul. Somewhere 
 this poor, pale life had gone astray. The moment when it lost 
 the clue, when it ceased to be what God had meant, and went 
 drifting round in vague, purposeless confusion, its downfall 
 began. She could see now where hers would be wrecked. As 
 Mrs. Gilliat's nurse and companion, there might be use and 
 work for her ; but as Eustace Gilliat's wife 
 
 She drew her breath hard and quick, raising her head. 
 
 "What is it, child? Are you never going to sleep?" 
 
 The tone was not untender. She slipped to the floor and 
 laid her head in Mrs. McRae's lap. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. McRae," she said ; " if any one took a weak 
 step unwittingly, or was wrongly persuaded in any vital matter, 
 and came to know the truth afterward, would it not be right for 
 this person to go back, no matter what might be the pain or 
 shame ?" 
 
 " I think it would," slowly, as if she were considering. 
 
 " It is about my engagement. I would like to tell you. I 
 have had no no friend ;" stumbling a little. 
 
 "Yes, child," tenderly smoothing the fair cheek. 
 
 It was a comfort to go over the story, to have her doubts 
 solved, and her brooding fears dispelled. 
 
 "For now that I have seen the end of mamma's ill-judged 
 marriage, I cannot go on. She must have loved papa in the
 
 With Fate against Him. 3 1 5 
 
 beginning ; and though I used to have a childish admiration 
 for Eustace Gilliat, it was because I fancied he would make a 
 gracious gentleman, like his father. He never will be. " 
 
 "No. Virtues are not always hereditary, my dear, and 
 vices are often frightfully exaggerated. The follies cf the 
 whole race seem to culminate in him, for I dare say there were 
 some questionable ancestors. If we could come down in a 
 straight line of virtue, we should be as gods ;" with a short, grim 
 laugh. ' ' I suppose the Master of all means that we shall have 
 some fighting to do." 
 
 " And I must fight hard for freedom. It was my weakness 
 that led me astray." 
 
 Mrs. Collins, a superannuated nurse, had come over at 
 Hester's bidding, and the two women were busy up-stairs. 
 Victor had gone quietly to his room, exchanging no word with 
 any one. The thought of Sylvia's future rent his soul. There 
 seemed to flash into existence another part of his being, hitherto 
 unshared, unknown. A deep, awful power, magnetized by 
 its own capacity for joy or bliss, and held in breathless thrall 
 as if awaiting its hour of deliverance. His intuitions became 
 refined, penetrating, able to translate this faint throb of mystery, 
 and yet some shadow with its cold hand held him back. For 
 if she knew all, what then ? He was not like other men, with 
 this black fate at his back. 
 
 No one slept through the night. The morning dawned dull 
 and chilling, with a fine mist in the air. Breakfast was late, 
 and just after they had been summoned, Trewartha walked in 
 unceremoniously, his hair tumbled, his face flushed with some 
 under-current of perplexity. 
 
 After a word to the others he went over to the window and 
 spoke in a low tone to Victor. 
 
 " Gilliat was here last night. You and he had a quarrel ?" 
 
 " He had been drinking, and was violent, as well as abusive. 
 Only a madman would have trusted Sylvia with him, had she 
 been willing to go. She refused, and I would not allow him
 
 316 With Fate against Him. 
 
 to enter the house. His man was the more sensible of the 
 two. " 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 Trewartha transfixed him with the strange meaning of his 
 eye. 
 
 Victor gave a nervous, embarrassed laugh. 
 
 ' ' I am alive, you see, so let it go, " he answered. 
 
 "But it cannot," in a tone of irritation. "I may as well 
 tell you if you do not know Eustace Gilliat was shot last 
 night, just as he parted from you, and died at daylight this 
 morning." 
 
 " My God !" and Victor clasped his hand to his forehead. 
 
 The three women heard this, and joined them in breathless 
 terror. 
 
 "I am an idiot," declared Trewartha. "Explain this 
 mystery, some of you. You must have heard the report." 
 
 Mrs. Hurst came close to her son, and took his hand as if 
 she feared to see the stain. 
 
 " Eustace Gilliat !" she repeated, in a strange, sinking voice, 
 the lips flickering as if some torture had been suddenly applied 
 that scorched the fine nerves. 
 
 Looking into her wild eyes he read her secret. 
 
 " It is clean ;" hoarsely, grasping her fingers within his, until 
 she could have cried with the pain. " Clean !" holding it up. 
 " Before God, and you all, I am guiltless of any man's blood." 
 But he knew in his soul that it was a brother's. 
 
 "Dead! Eustace Gilliat !" Sylvia had received her freedom. 
 
 " Had you known him before ? Was there an old quarrel ?" 
 
 "I met him more than two years ago. There was a harvest 
 festival at a Bohemian settlement below Weareham. The 
 quarrel was not much. He insulted a girl, held her captive, 
 and I rescued her with a blow. That was all." 
 
 " Did you hear the report of the pistol ? Surely you must 
 have ?" 
 
 The question was addressed to all, but no one replied.
 
 With Fate against Him. 317 
 
 Then Janet McRae stepped forward. "If we could save 
 Victor Hurst's life by a lie," she said, in her clear strong tone, 
 "he would hardly accept. We all heard. He did not enter 
 the house until some minutes afterward." 
 
 All this time she was studying him with an awful, undefined 
 fear. He had hot blood in his veins, and a fiery temper. 
 
 " I can't tell," he said, with a perplexed air. " I thought 
 it was meant for me, and that he had fired. But good heavens ! 
 To die like the beasts of the field !" 
 
 "A reptile rather, who leaves his venom behind. They, or 
 rather his man, drove swiftly to Greaves, it seems. An artery 
 had been severed and internal hemorrhage set in. They came 
 for me at once, though nothing could have saved him. But 
 he lived to make a deposition and sign it ; and his man attests 
 every word. There was a grudging hate in him. I think 
 he hardly felt the pain of dying, because he could revenge 
 himself. And now what is to be done ?" 
 
 In that moment of pain and terror Anah Hurst would have 
 counselled flight. If they two were only free ! Ah, why had 
 she induced him to come to Cragness ? 
 
 "Is there a pistol in the house?" 
 
 "I never owned one," Victor replied. 
 
 "There is some strange mystery at the bottom of all this. 
 The man, Jules Duconge, swears they were both unarmed. A 
 keen, daring enemy must have done it. If you could prove " 
 
 " I can prove nothing," impatiently. "I was near there, 
 almost within range. The shot was fired after I had turned. 
 But I think you must all believe me innocent of so terrible a 
 crime ;" and a shiver ran through his frame. 
 
 "There will be a warrant out presently. If I have blun 
 dered in my telling, forgive. I could not bear the suspense, 
 and it would not be pleasant tidings from a stranger. An 
 inquest, I suppose, will he held immediately." 
 
 It seemed to Victor Hursf that some unseen blow had 
 stunned him utterly. He did not dare glance at his mother
 
 3 1 8 With Fate against Him. 
 
 again, crushed and speechless by the weight of this misery. 
 And even now it appeared to him as if the shot must have 
 been given from the carriage, though human passion could 
 hardly go that far for revenge. 
 
 A strange morning, with the dead man in the house, and 
 this nameless terror hanging over their heads. Sylvia forgot 
 her own grief, her sense of freedom, even her mother. 
 
 Once she came over to Victor. 
 
 "You remembered the night at Bohmerwald," she said, 
 with a poignant pain in her voice; "and him" tremulously. 
 "You forgot only me." 
 
 "No," looking past her, yet with some peculiar second 
 sight reading the droop of the eyes and the quiver of the lips, 
 and hearing Eustace Gilliat's words again. "But I am glad 
 now that you never spoke. It could have made no difference." 
 
 "The quarrel was about me. I know he was miserably 
 jealous. If I should have cost you something dearer than 
 life" 
 
 "No, no. There is some fearful mistake. Or, is it all 
 blind chance for a man to fight against ? Why did fate bring 
 us all together then, to work out this awful tragedy at the last ?" 
 
 There was an expression in her face that arrested his attention. 
 A burden deeper than present pain, a haunting sense of lose 
 and despair. Was it for Eustace Gilliat ? 
 
 "Forgive me." His tone was very low. "I forgot your 
 anguish. Good God ! Why can we not all go back ?" 
 
 " You mistake me," she returned, falteringly. " Last night 
 I resolved, come what would, to break the bond between my 
 self and Eustace Gilliat. It was forced upon me and I 
 proved too weak for the higher path of duty. But I think I 
 should have found it at last." 
 
 Her eyes were downcast, her face very pale, and her whole 
 figure trembling. A great throb of relief sped through 
 his veins. This could not bring them any nearer to 
 gether, but it redeemed her in his estimation to know that
 
 With Fate against Him. 319 
 
 she could not love that shallow, selfish man, and would have 
 been in the end too true to holiest womanhood to give her 
 self for his gold, or his proud lineage. 
 
 " Do not fear for me." 
 
 But even as he spoke, a tramp of feet and an authoritative 
 knock were heard. How could they see him taken away like 
 a common criminal ? Sylvia hid her face and sobbed, though 
 her eyes were tearless. 
 
 " I am innocent, let that comfort you, " he said, preparing 
 to follow. 
 
 As if links must multiply, a pistol was found not far 
 from the spot, and carried off in triumph. Yet Trewartha's 
 strong courage cheered them all. He was to make the expla 
 nation to John Hurst. 
 
 " It will not do to tell him the truth," he said ; so he laid 
 stress upon important business. 
 
 "But he did not even look in to say good-bye," was the 
 grieved response. 
 
 " The summons was sudden and imperative. I will be your 
 son meanwhile. Command me," and he smiled with a poor 
 attempt at his usual geniality. 
 
 Anah Hurst was stunned. That God would right the terrible 
 mistake she could scarcely doubt. Victor would soon return, 
 cleared of the foul imputation. But that he should have been 
 brought face to face with Eustace Gilliat ! 
 
 She dragged herself up-stairs, where Sylvia was lying tearless 
 and sleepless. 
 
 "Oh, don't hate me," the poor girl moaned, covering her 
 face with her hands. "That I should have brought all this 
 trouble upon you, when you had already been so kind to 
 poor papa !" the pale lips quivering as she spoke. 
 
 "Child, "in a calm, peculiar manner, "I think it is some 
 subtle fate working itself out. The sins of the fathers are to 
 be visited upon the children ; but it seems cruel when the poor 
 children are innocent. It is a great, unfathomable mystery."
 
 320 With Fate against Him. 
 
 11 He is guiltless," Sylvia cried, sharply. 
 
 "Yes. Well, I am his mother." 
 
 "Does any one doubt it?" thinking only of the crime, her 
 wild, feverish eyes searching the cold, pale face. 
 
 "But it is not that I came to ask you," pressing her hand 
 against her forehead with a shiver, as if there was some strong 
 repulsion in the subject. "You have known them,'" [she could 
 not utter the name,] "a long while?" 
 
 " Yes. Mamma and "Mrs. Gilliat are old friends." 
 
 "Tell me about them !" 
 
 She turned her face away and shaded her eyes, but her 
 respiration was slow and labored. 
 
 "About Rothermel ?" 
 
 "The three the household." 
 
 So Sylvia began. The past years had a charm for her, which 
 no present, however terrible, could quite obliterate. The 
 house lay always in her mind as a stately and beautiful picture, 
 with its background of knights and heroes and handsome wo 
 men. Mrs. Gilliat, with all her haughtiness and indifference, 
 had petted Sylvia, and endeared herself in many ways to the 
 girlish heart. 
 
 " And the son ?" 
 
 The child shuddered. 
 
 "You were to marry him. It is strange, but I never heard 
 of it until last night. I have lived so quietly." 
 
 Victor had not spoken of it then. Of course, it could make 
 no difference to him whom she married. 
 
 "Yes, I was to marry him ; though, I think, I never could 
 have done it," in a voice freighted with the strength of desper 
 ation. ' ' I liked him as a boy, that is why, I was nothing but 
 a child, you know ; a weak, vain, silly child, thinking myself 
 so wise, yet fearfully ignorant. And as no one else cared for 
 me, as I could not tell then how much a woman's soul might 
 be to her own very self, 1 let them all persuade me into it. Do 
 not believe that it was for the wealth or station why " hysteric-
 
 With Fate against Him. 321 
 
 ally- "yesterday, I fancied I could be happy with papa alone, 
 if I had to work or beg for the bread we ate. I began to learn, 
 then, the full strength of a woman's love, and what a clean, 
 pure life would be to her. He was small of soul, narrow, 
 scoffing at virtue and generous impulses ; and when I came 
 to realize his vices no, I could never have gone on even for 
 his mother's sake ;" with an irrepressible shiver. 
 
 Anah Hurst reached over and took the child in her arms. 
 The two seemed to be brought together by common suffering. 
 The father's hand had stabbed her, and the son's might have 
 wrought a still deeper desolation in Sylvia's life. 
 
 She had it all very clearly before her now. By some turn 
 of fate she had been kept in ignorance of their near vicinity, 
 and perhaps it was well, seeing that she was bound hand and 
 foot and could not stir without telling her story. But why had 
 God tangled all their lives together to culminate in this fearful 
 tragedy ? blood arrayed against blood. She remembered the 
 passionate hatred Victor had expressed against Kirke Gilliat on 
 the night when he first heard the story. But now he had grown 
 calmer and clearer of brain. 
 
 A strange, awesome day indeed ! Doctor Trewartha went 
 to St. Albans and brought from thence a report. Mrs. Red 
 mond was really ill and bitterly incensed against her child. 
 Mrs. Gilliat had been in strong convulsions since the sad 
 tidings, and lay at the point of death. 
 
 "There must be some arrangements made for the funeral," 
 Mrs. McRae said, taking Trewartha into the deserted sitting- 
 room. "Rachel Braisted has been over, and proposes that 
 the body shall be brought there. They are very kind and 
 sympathizing. I think they feel that Margaret Redmond hardly 
 did her duty by her husband." 
 
 "She must have believed him dead, at first." 
 
 "So far as I can put his incoherent story together, he never 
 made his existence known until latterly. If he went to St. 
 
 Albans, I can fancy her dread and mortification. Perhaps she 
 
 1,1*
 
 ,22 IV iih Fate against Him. 
 
 felt that he had forfeited all claim upon her. We will not judge 
 too harshly now. I am glad to know that Sylvia can begin her 
 life afresh." 
 
 Trewartha looked surprised at this mercy where he had 
 expected strict justice and condemnation. 
 
 " Have you seen the young man's father?" 
 
 "Yes. I may as well confess that Mr. Gilliat feels ter 
 ribly bitter. It was his only child. From all I hear, the 
 youth could hardly have died at a better time." A slight 
 expression of contempt crossed Trewartha's face. "But I would 
 give half my fortune, or all, that it had not occurred." 
 
 "You apprehend no danger to Victor? He must be 
 acquitted i" she exclaimed, with her old vehemence. 
 
 "Circumstances multiply. Gilliat was shot from the left 
 side, at which Victor stood, so there can be no hypothesis of 
 accident. His man declares that Victor had barely time to 
 turn. The pistol was found out yonder." 
 
 "Yes!" She was studying Trewartha's anxious face 
 intently. 
 
 ' "Is there some subtle demon at the bottom of it all? 
 The pistol has a small silver plate on which is engraved an 
 <H.'" 
 
 "My God! But you don't believe "and her strong 
 features trembled in ashen dullness. 
 
 "Until Victor Hurst confesses the deed I shall hold him 
 innocent." 
 
 "Thank God!" grasping his arm with eager, desperate pas 
 sion ; "for I have come to love the lad in spite of his cold, 
 unsocial ways. And I know he could never have done it." 
 
 "But even-thing will go against him. The inquest is tc 
 be held to-morrow. We shall all be called." 
 
 " Do they think that I can swear his life away ?" she cried, 
 with sharp anguish.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHEN Jules Duconge took the news of the murder to St. 
 Albans, the whole house seemed horror-stricken. He told 
 his story first to Mr. Milnor, for he hardly dared face Mr. 
 Gilliat. 
 
 Whatever hopes Kirke Gilliat might have had for his son 
 in by-gone days, they had perished utterly during the last few 
 months. A dozen years like the last two abroad would bring 
 Rothermel near to the auctioneer's hammer. He and his wife 
 had lived elegantly, sometimes to the extent of their income, 
 and there was not much lying back ; but he had a hatred 
 of debt. So a valuable piece of timber had gone to extricate 
 Eustace. 
 
 There was nothing noble, generous, or refined in the lad's 
 nature. Exterior graces and foppishness he abounded in ; but 
 the soul was unutterably indigent. His father not desiring to 
 see his faults, appeared to be made all the more plainly 
 aware of them, as sometimes when one's eyes are tightly shut, 
 a past hideous sight will still linger. 
 
 He could never quite forget what he had given up for pos 
 sible children brave sons and beautiful daughters, not this 
 one poor puny body, and coarse, shallow soul. Yet, now 
 that he was dead, Kirke Gilliat beat his breast passionately. 
 It was all he had. And with that, sweet, tender child, Sylvia, 
 for wife, there might have been a nobler future. Perhaps he 
 had been unjust all young men went astray at times. 
 
 Half an hour afterward he sent for Milnor again. 
 
 "Let me hear the man's story," he said, with feverish 
 haste. "There must be some horrible mistake. What had 
 Eustace done to make so bitter an enemy ?"
 
 324 With Fate against Him. 
 
 So Jules was called in and questioned minutely. The 
 story lost nothing at his hands. Not that he wilfully exagger 
 ated, but his sympathies were with his master, who in his 
 best moods had always been lavishly indulgent. The threats 
 on the one side were softened down, and on the other, every 
 word and gesture remembered. 
 
 "Victor Hurst," Milnor said, thoughtfully. "I ought to 
 know the name." 
 
 "It appears to me that you mentioned it last winter when 
 you were staying at Rothermel it's an unusual name, too." 
 
 "Oh, I remember some trade outbreak in one of the 
 northern towns and why, it must be the young man in 
 whom Miss Lowndes was so much interested," with an expres 
 sion of surprise at his own blindness. 
 
 "That you were half-persuaded was a poor, struggling 
 genius. But for me you would have taken him in hand. 
 A coarse bully and ruffian." 
 
 ' ' Perhaps " 
 
 "There may be an excuse for some sins, but murder 
 brutal, wilful taking of life should be shown no mercy. If 
 there is any law in the land, this man shall have his deserts. 
 There is too much of this taking the law in one's own hands. 
 The rabble learn only by sharp punishment. " 
 
 Milnor profoundly pitied the man, reading the anguish in 
 every line of his face. What was the stranger to him ? 
 
 "The testimony must come out strong on the inquest. 
 This fellow's past life and violence, his quarrel with my son 
 everything that we can find. Milnor, I depute much of this 
 to you, my friend. Help me to remember. My brain seems 
 almost crazed." 
 
 "Do not excite yourself so fearfully;" and Milnor laid his 
 hands on the other's shoulder. 
 
 Gilliat bowed his head, and shook with a strong man's pas 
 sionate grief. 
 
 "Let us go," he said, presently, when he could command
 
 With Fate against Him. 325 
 
 himself. " If they have not arrested the cowardly villain, he 
 may escape. And poor Sylvia ! Jules, go at once for Doctor 
 Trewartha. Mrs. Gilliat is in imminent danger." 
 
 "I might drive you over, monsieur;" and the man bowed 
 obsequiously. 
 
 ' ' Yes. I can think of nothing. O God ! what a blow !" 
 
 "Be calm," entreated Milnor, helping him to prepare for 
 the ride. 
 
 Jules had driven directly to the village after his master's first 
 exclamation, knowing that it was not much beyond half a mile 
 to the office of Doctor Greaves. And now the body lay on a 
 long table in the back consulting-room, a constable from 
 Taunton keeping watch over it until the jury could be sum 
 moned. 
 
 From the first, as Doctor Trewartha said, the wound had 
 been mortal. When Greaves found it so serious a matter, he 
 had despatched Jules for Trewartha ; but the wounded man's 
 strength failing rapidly, he sent for a justice near by, afraid to 
 have the whole weight on his hands. 
 
 Eustace Gilliat's brain was a fiery, seething mass, brought 
 to a scarlet flame by his last draught of brandy before he left 
 St. Albans ; and this, with his outburst of anger, jealousy, 
 and furious resentment at suddenly meeting the one who had 
 struck him an unforgiven blow, threw him into a frantic 
 state. At first he raved like a madman ; and it was only when 
 his strength began to fail that he could be quieted. No bit 
 ter enemy could have directed a more fatal shot. The group 
 questioned each other with fearful eyes. A murder was so 
 new to them that the shock went deep indeed. 
 
 They hoped at first to keep him alive until the next day ; 
 but at three he began to sink. The passionate voice fell to a 
 mere whisper, and there came into his countenance a ghastly 
 terror that those who saw never forgot. 
 
 But when the last faint sigh passed the colorless lips, a touch 
 of boyish beauty came back to the still face, bringing a thought
 
 o 
 
 26 With Fate against Him. 
 
 of pure, clean childhood, before he had begun to stain his soul 
 with a man's dissipations. And seeing him thus, the old pride 
 and tenderness returned to his father's heart. Death had 
 obliterated the sins and follies. 
 
 If anythnig, it made Kirke Gilliat a hundredfold more 
 bitter. That this low wretch for a man who had been in a 
 trad*- riot must, of necessity, be rough and vile dared to 
 raise his hand against the life of a fellow-creature so much 
 higher in the social scale, stamped the sin as more foul in his 
 estimation. 
 
 " Has the man been arrested?" he asked. 
 
 Thay gaped at one another. Arrested ! Would Mrs. 
 McRae allow such a thing. 
 
 ' ' Constable, have a warrant gotten out immediately. My 
 son's deposition renders it more than a suspicion. It is 
 proof !" raising his voice. 
 
 Trewartha was amazed at the chain of evidence ; but to un 
 dertake to combat it was folly. 
 
 "We can keep him here until the inquest is ended," said 
 constable Lowther. " After that there'll be a regular commit 
 ment to Taunton jail. Shocking thing ! I can't more than 
 half believe it !" 
 
 "I will answer for him," exclaimed Trewartha,^ clearly. 
 " Victor Hurst is no coward." 
 
 Kirke Gilliat's lip curled scornfully. 
 
 " You might have said yesterday that he was no murderer. 
 But you see, you see !" 
 
 Milnor stood by thoughtfully. How little Miss Lowndes 
 knew of this turbulent fellow. He was glad now that he had 
 not been persuaded into taking any interest. Perhaps Gilliat 
 was right. The crude effervescence of such rude brains could 
 never be genius, fine and heroic. 
 
 Yet if they two had met on the day of the excursion, 
 Eustace Gilliat might have finished his life in his own 
 fashion. So closely are we all linked together that a word
 
 With Fate against Him. 327 
 
 or deed changes the destiny of men for all time, perhaps 
 for eternity. 
 
 The stir, tumult, and excitement were so great that the inquest 
 did not begin until mid-afternoon. Victor had been confined 
 in the room above, a kind of hall used for a children's singing- 
 school, and business meetings. A guard had been detailed to 
 keep watch over him ; but he sat listlessly by the window, with 
 the curtain nearly down. He heard the shuffling and sound 
 of voices below, he seemed to see the dead man, and one other. 
 
 The physician's evidence was taken first. The pistol had 
 been fitted with the ball extracted from the body. There could 
 be no doubt but that it had produced death. Trewartha was 
 brief, but Greaves went through with a professional diagnosis, 
 as well as the testimony of the dying man. 
 
 After that came Jules Duconge. The case appeared hope 
 lessly clear when they adjourned, at dusk ; but there were a 
 number of witnesses yet to examine. 
 
 Trewartha took his way to the cottage. Janet McRae was 
 still there. Anah Hurst, in this bitter desolation, seemed very 
 near to her. And though she would rather have held the poor 
 woman's hand in silence, she forced herself to go about,- to 
 cheer John Hurst, fretting for his absent son, and rouse Sylvia 
 from her torpor. 
 
 She started at Trewartha's step, and went out to the door. 
 
 " What is it ?" she asked, in a sharp, nervous whisper. 
 
 ' ' It's not ended. But, oh Heaven ! It will be the worst, 
 the worst !" 
 
 "No !" Her strong frame trembled like an autumn leaf. 
 
 "Yes. You will be summoned to-morrow. Somehow 
 they have learned about the trouble at Weareham, which will be 
 another thing to go against him. And Sylvia's testimony will 
 be needed." 
 
 " Did you see him ?" 
 
 "Yes. I am going back to spend the night with him. He 
 is very quiet, with grand, steady lines in his face, but an awful
 
 328 With Fate against Him. 
 
 shadow, as if some sight was perpetually haunting him. But 
 it cannot be. He is quick of temper, yet utterly incapable of 
 such a deed." 
 
 " He is ! he is ! Let us believe that to the last. I never 
 was much mistaken in any one before." 
 
 "If it had not been for that old quarrel ! Why must all the 
 deeds of a man's life be dragged up against him in an unfor 
 tunate moment ? Yet there is such a strange mystery about it. 
 I incline to the opinion that Eustace Gilliat must have had a 
 mortal enemy dogging his steps." 
 
 He went in and spoke a few words to Mrs. Hurst, and 
 examined Sylvia, whose eyes were feverishly bright. 
 
 "Child," he said gently, "they will need your story to 
 morrow. If you know anything that may ease matters for 
 him" 
 
 She shivered violently and seemed to shrink from the kindly 
 clasp. 
 
 "The truth, "she moaned, "the bitter, bitter truth! Oh, 
 why does God make it so hard to tell ? If we could say " 
 
 "If he had come in before the shot was fired ?" 
 
 ' ' But he did not. " She uttered it with the apathy of 
 despair. 
 
 The morning dawned too soon. Sylvia did not sleep at all, 
 but lay all night with drear}', wide-open eyes. The man she 
 loved. She knew it now with hot flushes of pain and shame. 
 And because she had been willing to bear about a lie on her 
 own soul, to respond to words that found no echo in her heart, 
 to submit her lips to kisses that were pollution, and she rub 
 bed her mouth vehemently with the corner of the sheet, fresh 
 from Anah Hurst's press, fragrant with dried rose-leaves, as if 
 she would scour off all the stain. In doing this she had 
 jeopardized the one life that would always be most precious to 
 her. Ah, God ! what a terrible punishment ! 
 
 She had thought little before of the unseen forces ebbing 
 and flowing in her soul, to give it vital force and self-reliance.
 
 With Fate against Him. 329 
 
 Instead, she had been content to drift on crested waves, to dip 
 dainty fingers in the clear streams, and shake off pearls with a 
 laugh. It could never be so again. The whole current of her 
 life had changed. Three months ago, a thoughtless child; to 
 night, a sad, strong woman. 
 
 Yet the flesh was miserably weak when she rose and dressed 
 herself. There need be no curls this morning, no twisting of 
 golden threads over her fingers, when one dear heart lay dead up 
 at Cousin Braisted's, whither he had been taken, and the other 
 was banned a criminal before the world. 
 
 Janet McRae looked in upon her. "Child 1" she exclaimed, 
 aghast, "are you well enough ? For the trial will be terrible." 
 ' ' Yes. And yet God never deserted any one for telling the 
 truth." 
 
 "They were racked, they were burned at the stake, and 
 thrown to wild beasts. It is no fable. God knows the torture 
 is all here. Still we must be strong." 
 
 "Yes;" with her eyes on the floor, and her white ringers 
 moving slowly over the buttons of her dress, fumbling as if 
 they had lost their strength. 
 
 "Child, child ! I don't know what makes you seem so near 
 this morning, or so like a woman." 
 
 "Perhaps it is because I've come to the simple truth, and 
 mean to keep there all the rest of my life. Oh, Mrs. McRae, 
 why do they not teach us girls what a grand and solemn thing 
 it is to live, and that we have the lives of others in our hands? 
 If I had known it before !" 
 
 Janet McRae kissed the white, cold forehead. 
 " I've been praying through the night. God isn't so far off, 
 after all. I think He will see that every one comes to his or 
 her right." 
 
 There was a strange awesomeness in her tone. 
 "I don't understand," Mrs. McRae muttered, feeling that 
 the child had gained some knowledge far beyond her eagle 
 vision.
 
 33 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Trewartha came for them at ten. 
 
 "Oh," Mrs. McRae exclaimed, with a vehement burst of 
 emotion, "how can I, how can I ? I was so proud to bring 
 him here. I meant to make his life full and happy and satis 
 fying ; then to have this dead fruit so bitter to the taste. " 
 
 " It would go against him anyhow. Trie little more or less 
 cannot save him now. We shall have to fight afterward." 
 
 It seemed to Janet McRae that she had never known any 
 trial before, during the whole of her prosperous life. Yesterday 
 she would have passed by this rabble she was aristocratic.. in 
 her way as well with a nod of cheerful indifference. Lowther, 
 Carton, Doctor Greaves, and these twelve jurymen were of no 
 special import at their daily duties ; but now, when they held 
 a life in their hands ! 
 
 The examination had commenced with the finding of the 
 pistol and its significant letter, which would be weight upon 
 the trial even against the declaration of Victor Hurst. Then 
 Mrs. McRae was called. 
 
 Terrible as the truth might be, she could not waver here. 
 She had never consciously glossed over a falsehood. But her 
 answers were most brief. She had heard the disturbance, 
 the voice of Eustace Gilliat raised in a passion, the shot 
 fired. 
 
 "Was it before Victor Hurst returned to the room?" 
 
 The very air about her seemed to tremble. 
 
 "It was." Oh, God ! help and pity her. 
 
 " Did Victor Hurst seem in any way confused or embarrassed 
 afterward ?" 
 
 "Not to her mind. He had declared himself innocent, 
 when he heard of the murder." 
 
 "Sylvia Redmond." 
 
 She came forward, raising her veil a trifle, and thankful that 
 she could follow in the beaten track, not having to say these 
 words for the first time. In this respect the evidence was 
 merely a repetition.
 
 With Fate against Him. 331 
 
 "Did she know anything about the enmity between the two 
 men ? Had she heard any threats on either side?" 
 
 "I was at the Bohmerwald festival," in a low, clear tone. 
 "Eustace Gilliat accompanied the party." 
 
 Every one turned at this. 
 
 " Did you know of any quarrel ?" 
 
 "I think there was none. I have never heard Eustace 
 Gilliat mention it" 
 
 "You saw Victor Hurst present ?" 
 
 " I did. I know that no dispute of any kind occurred before 
 the supper. Shortly afterward we returned to our hotel. The 
 cause of the trouble, on the fatal evening, was that Mr. Gilliat 
 desired to take me home to St. Albans ; but I refused, as my 
 father was dying. Victor Hurst had nothing to do with it, 
 except to take my message. I could not see Mr. Gilliat then, 
 but the fault or blame does not rightly belong to Mr. Hurst. 
 There was nothing in the message that ought to have offended. 
 Under different circumstances I should not have gone." 
 
 There was a sudden cooling of violent prejudice, as Sylvia 
 Redmond took her seat. One and another felt that the cause 
 might have been less than they at first imagined. And if 
 Gilliat had been under the influence of liquor, as Trewartha 
 so clearly stated ! 
 
 Still, there were the overwhelming facts. A murder had 
 been done, and what hand except Victor Hurst's could have 
 fired the fatal shot ? 
 
 A few more witnesses were called, and the jurors began to 
 consider the case within themselves. Half an hour's discussion 
 and their verdict was ready. There was a stillness almost as 
 solemn as if their decision was to be the final one. 
 
 "We find that Eustace Gilliat came to his death, on the 
 night of September tenth, by a wound from a pistol, discharged 
 at the hands of Victor Hurst." 
 
 " M?.ke out the necessary papers. The man must be com 
 mitted for trial."
 
 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Then the solemnity was broken by stir and shuffle and the 
 hum of voices. Trewartha came to Sylvia and pressed her cold, 
 ungloved fingers. Although she swayed like a lily on its stem, 
 and her face was of lily whiteness, something in her eyes told 
 that the agony was too tense to allow of fainting. 
 
 "Oh 1" with a low, wild cry that went hardly farther than 
 his ears, "I am the cause of it all ! There is nothing in my 
 life that could make amends for his, and the bitter shame, the 
 suffering, the pangs of his mother " 
 
 " Hush, child. Do not make your burden heavier by fierce 
 upbraidings. There is a strange mystery about it all. I think 
 it must come right, but I don't know hpw." 
 
 " He is innocent!" with a feverish, passionate. force. "If I 
 could see him and tell him so." 
 
 ' ' You can. Will it not be too much ?" after a moment's 
 pause, noting the strained hard lines about the mouth. 
 
 "No, no ;" wringing her hands wearily. 
 
 The conclave broke up. It was so clear to all their minds 
 that the final verdict was a foregone conclusion. 
 
 The prisoner would be taken to Taunton jail. "No," in 
 answer to a question of Trewartha's, "there could be no pres 
 ent arrangement made concerning bail ; and in a criminal case 
 like this where it was the life of a fellow-creature " 
 
 "Will you see him?" asked Milnor, a faint curiosity 
 stirring his own languid nerves. 
 
 "See him?" and Kirke Gilliat turned with an expression 
 of disgust on his handsome, worldly face. "No, I have no 
 morbid desire to gaze at a low, vile criminal, whose hands are 
 stained with blood and the blood that of my own child. 
 Let us get out of this crowd. The very air stifles me." 
 
 He could not even go over there and speak to Sylvia Red 
 mond. She, too, had sunk in his estimation, since it was 
 plain her bias was in favor of the prisoner a coarse, restless, 
 turbulent fellow, who was beginning early in youth a shameful 
 career. What did it matter if he went to the hangman ?
 
 
 With Fate against Him. 333 
 
 The evil deeds of his own son were forgotten. Why, his 
 sensual, wine-flavored, self-indulgent life, his gaming and sins 
 looked clean, of course, beside the crime of this one, come 
 up from the air of shops and trade-riots. 
 
 They picked their way out. Sylvia shivered, glad that he had 
 not spoken, yet cut to the quick by the open neglect. The 
 crowd still lingered, watching the elegant Gilliat carriage roll 
 away, and then waiting for the other to be started on his journey. 
 
 After awhile the three went up-stairs. Victor was strangely 
 calm, and helped them all to keep their self-possession. 
 
 "It will only be for a few days," said Trewartha. "If 
 Cragness and the Cedars are not enough, we will put the whole 
 county under bonds." 
 
 Victor took Sylvia's hands. At first she could not speak ; 
 but he read the face slowly. So changed, so full of pain and 
 heroic tenderness, and sublimed by a faith that thrilled him 
 to the heart's core. 
 
 "I am clean in your eyes?" he whispered, the voice hoarse 
 and tremulous, though scarcely above a breath. 
 
 For answer she bowed a little, letting her veil fall, and un 
 der cover of it, she pressed her lips to the hand that held hers. 
 He knew then the secret of her soul. What did it matter to 
 her ? Was there any shame in the truth, the noble integrity 
 that she was henceforth to make her standard ? 
 
 Trewartha insisted that they should leave him there. He 
 did not want them to remember the other picture the lad 
 they loved going off to a felon's cell with a constable by his 
 side. 
 
 Anah Hurst sat by the window, waiting. John had been 
 very drowsy all day, and was now asleep. Seeing them come, 
 she went down the path. 
 
 "Oh!" with a wild, despairing cry, reading the secret in 
 their pained faces. 
 
 Janet McRae took her in in her strong arms, towering 
 above her like a man.
 
 334 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " Anah Hurst, the hand of God is laid heavily upon us. If 
 He ever heard prayer or cry of yours, pray to Him now. As 
 for me well, I think I've been my own God. All my life I 
 have glorified my own works. ' I have pulled down and builded 
 up, measured the souls of men and women, and meted out 
 my own justice or beneficence. I thought to do so with him. 
 Don't curse me in your mother's grief. I meant to make him 
 rich and honored, and give him a high station for my own 
 pleasure. This is the work of my hands, the punishment of 
 my pride. Friends, pray for me as well as him. " 
 
 They never forgot that tone of strong agony and bitter hu 
 miliation. 
 
 "No, no !" Anah Hurst said, wanderingly. 
 
 " You and John have the right secret of life, maybe. Chil 
 dren, I am an old, old woman. Be merciful." And with that 
 she sank down on the door-step, while her vigorous frame 
 shook as if palsied. 
 
 Anah Hurst kissed the cold lips, and then said, in a strong, 
 calm voice 
 
 "I too, have a duty. I believe God has transformed my 
 heaviest cross into the means of saving my son. I must see 
 Kirke Gilliat this very night, before I sleep. Will you take 
 me to St. Albans, Doctor Trewartha ?"
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SYLVIA decided to go to St. Albans also. James Redmond's 
 body was lying at the house of Rachel Braisted, still unburied, 
 and she must learn her mother's wishes upon the subject. 
 Although she felt wretchedly weak she nerved both soul and 
 body for the task. 
 
 Long before they reached their journey's end, the night set 
 in, gloomy and starless. They wound round the ghostly hills, 
 the two women clasping hands tightly under cover of their 
 shawls, drawing so near to each other, yet neither knowing 
 what was in the other's heart, only the chain of broad, com 
 mon suffering. 
 
 Trewartha handed them out at length. Sylvia led her com 
 panion up the broad hotel steps, through the wide hall to a 
 reception-room, and sent a message to Mr. Gilliat. 
 
 Mr. Milnor answered the summons. 
 
 " My friend is so utterly worn out and exhausted that he 
 can see no one this evening. I might possibly attend to your 
 business, if it is urgent." 
 
 " No," she answered, quietly. " I must see him." Then, 
 drawing a folded paper from her reticule, she continued 
 " Will you please hand him this ?" 
 
 She had sent her own name first. It gave her woman's 
 heart a bitter pang to know he had cared so little that he had 
 never taken the trouble to inquire what her destiny might be, 
 and as Mrs. Hurst, in his sight, she was simply the mother of a 
 criminal. 
 
 Kirke Gilliat opened the paper with an impatient frown. 
 " Has the woman no delicacy?" he flung out angrily. " Yet 
 what could one expect ?"
 
 336 With Fate against Him. 
 
 " Anah McRae Hurst. Northfield, 18 " 
 
 He staggered with the suddenness of the blow, and dashed 
 his clinched hand against his forehead. 
 
 "Milnor !" glancing wildly around "stay I Must see 
 her where we cannot be interrupted. Will you allow me the 
 use of your room ?" 
 
 For it would never do to talk to Anah McRae with only 
 a door between her voice and his wife. Mrs. McRae of Crag- 
 ness. He saw it all now. If he had known of the connection 
 before ! 
 
 After giving Milnor time to escort her thither, he walked 
 slowly up the stairs, a horrible thought of retribution entering 
 his mind. Had the old warning been interpreted as a curse 
 in his case ? "The sins of the fathers " 
 
 She was standing in the middle of the dimly-lighted room, 
 a pale, plainly-dressed gentlewoman, not to -be compared to 
 Beatrice Gilliat, her senior by some years. But the chances 
 of life had been so different. Toil and poverty had left their 
 signet, coming out plainer now that she was weary and suffering. 
 The man's fastidious sense took it all in, judging without 
 understanding the hidden causes. 
 
 "My God !" he said ; "I never guessed that you were his 
 mother !" 
 
 AT 
 
 " Yes ;" steadying her voice. "I have borne my pain alone 
 these many years, and I have come to lay a part of it on your 
 shoulders. It is your son, Kirke Gilliat, who is to sleep in a 
 felon's cell to-night." 
 
 "Oh, Anah !" with a wild cry of anguish as the truth was 
 thus certified. " A brother's hand raised against brother !" 
 
 "Yes, it was that, though Victor is innocent. It was the 
 son of the free woman against the son of the bond woman ;'' 
 with a shrill, hysterical laugh. 
 
 "No, it cannot be," he said. "You mock me." \ 
 
 For, with all that sharp, clear evidence before him, he could 
 see the guilt of Victor Hurst, and it added to his pang; Awhile
 
 With Fate against Him. 337 
 
 she, believing him innocent, had not the horrible certainty to 
 drive her to despair. 
 
 "You know nothing about him ;" in her earnest, decisive 
 way, for now all the old hesitation had dropped off like a 
 worn-out garment. " He has had his faults but he never told 
 me, his mother, a deliberate lie in his life. If he had been 
 guilty, he would have kept silence." 
 
 " But you married ?" 
 
 " I did. After the announcement of Kirke Gilliat's espousal 
 of his cousin, I married a good, honorable man, who had 
 secretly loved me a long while, and who offered me a name 
 for myself, and my child. And yet it was hardly my own 
 wish. Not that I had any doubt of my own right you had 
 taken good care of that," smiling bitterly. "But to me that 
 false marriage was a life-long sacred bond. Had I stood 
 entirely alone in the world, I think I would have borne the 
 shame. If I could have found a place for my child, where he 
 would not have been crowded to the wall for another man's 
 sin, I might still have braved the consequences. But the faces 
 that smiled on you would have been shocked at sight of me. 
 The falsehood and deception that they could forgive on the 
 man's part, was whiteness compared to a simple act of trust on 
 a woman's." 
 
 He knew of a sin blacker than any of which she held him 
 guilty. If he could make reparation here and now ; but that 
 was madness. 
 
 "My son!" he answered, hoarsely. "And this man 
 whom you married " 
 
 " I am not sure but that it was a crime. I could not see 
 clearly in those days, when I was racked with anguish and 
 despair ; but I knew well that he would watch over me, that my 
 pain and shame would be his through his love ; that to see me 
 disgraced in the world's estimation, thrust out to perish, would 
 cause him more suffering than if he befriended me ; and I did 
 my best to repay him. Perhaps I had no right thus to save 
 
 '5 
 
 4
 
 338 With Fate against Him. 
 
 myself, having once believed and loved my only crime. For 
 I think even now that you will bear witness to some fears and 
 hesitation on my part. I would fain have delayed the 
 ceremony, used only to quiet my conscience, by a man who 
 was integrity itself to his compeers, men of the world, who 
 would have scorned a lie in any business transaction, but 
 thought it no sin to deceive the woman who loved him, to 
 betray her with the most sacred vow a man ever can give." 
 
 "Have mercy," he cried, weakly, " have mercy ! If you 
 could know all the the circumstances. " 
 
 "The results I do know. My son defrauded of his just birth 
 right, and now in a prison cell, accused of a monstrous crime ; 
 and our lives with their nameless blight and pain." 
 
 " God help me !" and he began to pace the room. "Tell 
 me what to do. But how can I save him ?" 
 
 She read the marks of anguish in the still handsome but 
 worldly face, yet she understood now that all pangs were 
 evanescent with this nature, in which there was some weak, 
 fatal flaw. 
 
 " God knows what I would give to go back now to the hour 
 of our parting." 
 
 Having lived through the past, and not found in it the com 
 plete satisfaction that it had promised, he would fain have it 
 different Was that repentance for his sin against her ? She 
 felt and spurned the paltry concession. 
 
 "We have nothing to do with the past, Mr. Gilliat," she 
 returned, coldly. " You have a wife, and I a husband. Even 
 if it were not so, you would see the difference between us too 
 plainly. If I lacked culture, beauty, and elegance in the days 
 of my youth, a hard, narrow life has only added to the wants." 
 
 ' ' No, it was not that, " vehemently. ' ' There was a kind 
 of fate planned out for me from the first." 
 
 " Did I ask for your love ? for this miserable mockery of 
 marriage ?" 
 
 She felt his cowardice and cruelty so keenly. A little truth
 
 With Fate against Him. 339 
 
 in the beginning would have saved these terrible complications, 
 and a hard wrench then would have proved more merciful 
 than t,his life-long agony. 
 
 He came back and seated himself at the table, leaning his 
 chin upon his 'and. The light being in range, gave her his 
 face distinctly. How much ease, indulgence, and self-love had 
 gone into it with the years. She knew another that had taken 
 some of its best points, but her misgiving for this young, 
 vigorous life had strangely ended. For the past six months it 
 had reached a truer comprehension of the honest, earnest 
 purpose that saves souls from baser self-engrossment. 
 
 "Tell me what to do." His voice was strained and hoarse, 
 
 *and seemed to have in it something of womanish pain. 
 
 "Every particle of testimony went against him. My son as 
 
 well ! Good God ! this is a bitter retribution. If I could 
 
 believe him innocent !" 
 
 " If I could not have told you this truth I should not have 
 come. You can at least refrain from persecuting him. You 
 can give him the chance of any doubt that may arise. The 
 rest must be left to a higher power God." 
 
 He rose again and approached her. The face was pure 
 and proud, and gave token of a higher spiritual life than his. 
 He knew then how he was judged, and in spite of the old 
 love, despised. 
 
 " He shall not want for anything, and if I could change 
 circumstances " 
 
 ' ' I only ask that his own father may not hurry him to final 
 shame ;" and her voice was clearly cold. " He has friends 
 money ; do not think I came for these." 
 
 "You are the last of the McRaes, I believe." 
 
 "Janet McRae is the last of her pure line ;" with an em 
 phasis that stung him keenly. 
 
 "But" 
 
 " If you are thinking of Victor in connection with Mrs. 
 McRae, I can tell you that he would never take his disgrace
 
 34-O With Fate against Hint. 
 
 there. When my husband dies, my son and I will leave the 
 places that have known us, and begin anew." 
 
 "Then he is aware " and Kirke Gilliat's pale, tortured 
 face flushed the deepest crimson. 
 
 "Yes. I could not keep the horrible secret out of my eyes 
 on that fatal morning ;" her voice sharpening unconsciously. 
 
 He covered his eyes with his hands and was silent a long 
 while. 
 
 "God knows that I am glad to have him feel innocent. I 
 cannot take it all in now, with the dead lying in yonder 
 room, but you may trust us." 
 
 "That is enough." 
 
 She rose as if she would go. Why should he detain her ? 
 What could he offer in extenuation of his deep and deadly 
 sin? He felt as if a decade of years had swept over him. His 
 limbs were feeble, his brain stunned, confused. 
 
 "The sin is too great to be forgiven," he said, weakly. 
 
 She knew what he meant, but she could not take his hand 
 there. Her pangs had been too keen and bitter, besides, she 
 realized more keenly than ever how she had loved this man, 
 and how, in spite of all, the pain had lasted through weary- 
 years. She wished him no ill, but she could not begin to wish 
 him well just at this moment. 
 
 "God is merciful." 
 
 With that she turned away. He made no effort to detain 
 her, for the consequences of his sin overwhelmed and hu 
 miliated him. 
 
 Anah Hurst found her way down the stairs to the main hall. 
 Sylvia was waiting with a tired, awe-stricken face. Neither 
 asked the other any questions as Dr. Trewartha drove home 
 ward over the dark, silent road. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond was still too weak and hysterical to give any 
 advice, so Rachel Braisted ordered the burial of Sylvia's father. 
 At St. Albans there was a general dispersion, owing in part to 
 the lateness of the season as well as to the terrible tragedy.
 
 With Fate against Him. 341 
 
 Mr. Gilliat sought his friend Milnor the next morning, 
 who was shocked at the change a night had wrought. He 
 seemed quite like an old man, with his gray, wrinkled face, 
 hesitating gait, and slow, wandering speech. 
 
 " Milnor," he began, "I place this matter in your hands. 
 It may not be quite as we think. If there is any chance to 
 to prove the young man innocent, throw no obstacle in the 
 way. And if you will see him you may be able to judge 
 better." 
 
 Mr. Milnor was silent from amazement. 
 
 "Yes, see him. Bring me a report. That is all." 
 
 "Anything in my power shall be most cheerfully done, 
 rest assured of that." 
 
 ' ' And now we must make preparations for our return to 
 Rothermel. Mrs. Gilliat is most anxious to get away." 
 
 " But will she be able to take the journey?" 
 
 "She has resolved upon it." 
 
 After Beatrice Gilliat came out of her long, death-like swoon, 
 she began to gather strength and courage for this step. She 
 would have been glad of Mrs. Redmond's company ; but that 
 was quite impossible, for Margaret Redmond was utterly 
 crushed by the two blows, and the downfall of her brightest 
 hopes. James Redmond had been to St. Albans, had plead 
 for an interview with his daughter, and met with a cold repulse. 
 What Margaret would have done finally, she hardly knew; 
 but she was determined not to confess James Redmond's ex 
 istence until Sylvia's marriage was accomplished. But to do 
 her justice, she had no thought of his dying so soon ; and she 
 was humiliated by the fear of his having repeated the substance 
 of the conversation. Then to her mind Sylvia was in some 
 way answerable for Eustace Gilliat's death, and the loss of 
 honor and wealth that might have accrued to her. 
 
 It was past midnight when they reached the cottage, where 
 Janet McRae was anxiously waiting. She wisely forebore to 
 question, but took Sylvia in her arms like the tenderest of
 
 342 With Fate against Him. 
 
 mothers. Trewartha threw himself on the sofa ; but no one 
 slept, thinking of him whose abode was a prison cell. 
 
 Victor Hurst had been overwhelmed by the mass of evidence 
 against him. No one realized more clearly than he the terri 
 ble situation in which he had been placed by the culmination 
 of untoward circumstances. He could hardly believe it at 
 first, and the coroner's verdict stunned him. 
 
 But keener than all was. the other shame and agony the 
 secret that he had read in his mother's eyes, the thought of the 
 hatred that had been a subtle, underlying curse. If his hands 
 were clean, was his heart quite clear ? There had been jeal 
 ousy and envying from the night of their first ill-fated meeting. 
 And yet would he have willingly changed lives with the law 
 ful son of Kirke Gilliat, have taken his narrow soul, his vapid 
 brain, his indolence and vices ? 
 
 No : a thousand times no ! He saw clearly now, how little 
 birth and so-called pure blood could do for a man. A large, 
 true, earnest soul was needed to lift him out of the slough up 
 there, as well as down yonder among the shops and crowded 
 streets. A man must work for himself, though all these helps 
 were far from being despised. He had toiled night after 
 night on the lines of some drawing, where books or a teacher 
 would have opened his eyes hours sooner. And there, in his 
 little nook among the ledges of the mountain, he had tried to 
 cut the secret ambition of his soul into shape. He understood 
 now what it was. For the sake of that love and desire he 
 could endure poverty, cold, hunger, and loneliness cheerfully, 
 so that he might succeed at the last. 
 
 Yet in a dim, far-off way he was beginning to see other 
 truths. Was ambition the best thing to life ? Were there not 
 duties, sacred trusts, grand truths to be evolved and applied 
 to every-day matters ? 
 
 And now, remembering Eustace Gilliat, as he had seen him 
 more than once, with his flushed face and watery eyes, the 
 effeminate, sensual expression of his weak countenance, he
 
 With Fate against Him. 343 
 
 fancied what John Hurst must have dreaded for him. There 
 were temptations on every hand. This young man had his 
 father's position to keep him up : he, Victor, would have gone 
 swiftly down the rushing current. At this moment he did 
 John Hurst full justice. In some strange way he seemed to 
 understand what there had been to go against his own hot, 
 headstrong temper, his hasty, unreasoning dislikes, and the 
 impossibility of one soul reading another so perfectly that all its 
 wants and hungering could be fathomed at a glance. Human 
 ity was grander and more abstruse than a bit of rock or 
 clay. 
 
 In these communings he lost sight of the fate which girded 
 him about. There was a Hand in it all, whose workings he 
 could not master in his thoughts; a scheme of something 
 that he was not wise enough to translate. But he felt the 
 Power in this awful night of loneliness, the Mightier spirit 
 guiding the work of justice which will surely come hereafter 
 if not here. He had been kept from staining his hands with 
 a brother's blood, even though the whole world believed him 
 guilty. God only could bring out the truth. He seemed to 
 realize how impotent all- human strength and foresight were, 
 and he cried to God, not in despair, hut with a faith that grew 
 strong even while it trembled. 
 
 Janet McRae and Sylvia left early the next morning. Tre- 
 wartha went to Taunton and heard some tidings which he took 
 to Victor at once. 
 
 "An odd enough circumstance the first end of the 
 mystery that I fancy we can unravel. If Smith Carson could 
 have known he would have given this testimony at the inquest. 
 He sold the pistol to your brawler Jarvis, only the day before 
 the murder. He has seen and identified it. Some months ago 
 he bought it of a young fellow rather hard up for his next 
 meal, and it was lying in the shop-window with a lot of other 
 traps. He remembered the letter ' H. ' " 
 
 Victor raised his awe-stricken face. " I see," he said, in a
 
 344 With Fate against Him. 
 
 slow, husky tone, for the words well-nigh strangled him. 
 " The shot was meant for me !" 
 
 And then he buried his face in his hands. What strange 
 power had intervened ? Who only but God, meting out the 
 punishment to some farther back sin could have turned aside 
 the fatal messenger. Why should Eustace Gilliat have been 
 taken, and he left ? 
 
 For up to this moment he had believed it some unseen 
 enemy of Gilliat's. 
 
 Trewartha came and laid his hand upon the yonng man's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "After all, you had nothing to do with it; and if report 
 speaks truly, his life was not likely to be much of an honor 
 to any one." 
 
 "But I can never forget that his life has been given for 
 mine. " 
 
 " Not willingly ;" with a short, abrupt laugh. 
 
 The deeper and more solemn significance to him Trewartha 
 would never know. But when at length he raised his face, 
 there was a new and solemn expression in it that no years 
 would ever be able to obliterate. 
 
 " So I placed the matter in the hands of an officer immedi 
 ately, and a warrant for Jarvis will be taken out at once. I 
 think by noon bail can be arranged, and you will have com 
 parative freedom. I shall be glad, for your father is fretting 
 sorely. " 
 
 Ah, he should never question that love again. 
 
 " Do what is best," he answered quietly. 
 
 But Trewartha could not take it so calmly. He had already 
 stirred up half of Taunton, and now, if possible, there was 
 more excitement than before. Jarvis had been hanging round 
 the quarry on the .day of the murder, considerably intoxicated, 
 and had been heard to utter threats then, as well as several 
 times before. When the matter came to be thoroughly sifted, 
 there was enough suspicion to justify his arrest.
 
 With Fate against Him. 346 
 
 Janet McRae was all warmth and eagerness when she heard 
 the tidings. 
 
 "Use every effort," she said to Trewartha. "Spare no 
 money nor pains." 
 
 Then her horses were ordered and she drove over to Taun- 
 ton, gaining her point at length, for she brought Victor home 
 to his mother. 
 
 "Take him back," she cried. " Heaven knows he is worth 
 all this and more. And if the testimony I gave went against 
 you, it tore my own soul to utter it. I would have cut off my 
 right hand sooner." 
 
 He clasped the hand in his, and bowing reverently, kissed it. 
 
 " I owe you a debt that can never be repaid," he returned 
 brokenly. 
 
 ' ' No, no ;" turning her head away and speaking loudly. 
 
 Then the mother and son were left alone. He placed his 
 arm around her neck and drew the weary head to his broad 
 shoulder. 
 
 "It is God's hand. I have been a blind, insensate stone; 
 nay worse, a doubter, a mocker. But last night I was alone 
 with Him ! And when a man comes face to face with this 
 strong arm he calls fate " 
 
 "There is no such thing. It is God working in all and 
 through all, resolving the tangles we make of our lives in our 
 blind way. Our human wisdom is foolishness." 
 
 He knew it then. He had cried out and kicked against 
 the rough stones in his way, but not one had been placed there 
 without a purpose, since through it all he had been led to see 
 more clearly. Not that the old shame would be lifted, but 
 made to serve a wise purpose in some way yet to be revealed. 
 For humanity itself was growing to be a so much larger thing 
 in his mind. When he saw how every simple act affected 
 some other being for weal or woe, he understood how neces 
 sary it was to keep the springs of the soul pure and true, to 
 save one man from the mire and foulness all around, if he
 
 346 With Fate against Him. 
 
 could do no more. It was not wealth or culture or ease 
 and leisure that redeemed souls, although these helped, and 
 his eyes were too clear now to rush to the other extreme and 
 undervalue them; but they were not all. Back in the shop the 
 men's coarseness and vile breath had annoyed him, yet he 
 doubted if their sins were worse in God's sight than that of 
 the refined and fastidious Kirke Gilliat. 
 
 You will see that the old spirit of self-aggrandizement was 
 falling off, like the dry, useless leaves that enclose the fruit- 
 bud. They were needed once, for there is no purely useless 
 thing in. the economy of nature ; and as a man's soul must 
 be brave and earnest and helpful within before it can work 
 profitably without, when it comes to blossom the unsightly 
 husk may wither and drop it is not needed. He felt now that 
 there was a wider work in the world than that for one's 
 own self. 
 
 ' ' Yes, " glancing out to the barred sky of sapphire where 
 the coming night brooded with infinite tenderness. "He" 
 nodding to the adjoining room, "held the key to the mystery. 
 I don't know whether God called him to give up his life and 
 all, but to-night I would rather have his work, even to the 
 poor, feeble souls which he has helped redeem, than anything 
 Kirke Gilliat has done." 
 
 She came and looked into his eyes, kissed him on the lips 
 with speechless love, like a blessing after long waiting. 
 
 "Not that I have come to that height where I can forgive 
 him. We make our greatest mistakes in fancying that we can 
 change the current of our natures in a few hours, when instead, 
 it is a lifelong work." 
 
 "And we find the old evils that we have imagined conquered 
 coming back from the graves where we laid them. It is a war 
 fare all along the way. The promise is 'to him that over- 
 cometh.' " 
 
 To him that overcometh evil. Not to him who wins the 
 glories of this world fame, wealth, position, and honor alone.
 
 With Fate against Him. 347 
 
 There was a better, broader sphere, the deep mystery of things 
 unseen, that might gain neither reward nor simple justice in' 
 this life ; but they were God's immutable laws, nevertheless, and 
 on the other side of the sapphire sky He took these things into 
 His own hands. 
 
 Trewartha worked indefatigably. In less than a fortnight 
 Jarvis had been found, concealed in a low den. When the 
 braggadocio of liquor had been strong upon him, he had 
 weakly made some damaging boasts. One circumstance after 
 another, trivial in itself, came to light, and began to form a 
 conclusive chain of evidence. Public opinion swayed at once, 
 and Victor became a sort of hero, partly on account of his re 
 markable escape from a doom planned for him. 
 
 Another peculiar circumstance occurred, which brought with 
 it a keen surprise and pleasure the sudden reappearance of 
 Paul Latour, who had been searching vainly for his friend, 
 and on the first tidings of his danger had found his way to 
 Cragness. From him Trewartha and Milnor heard the episode 
 at Bohmerwald, which exonerated Victor completely. 
 
 With this array of evidence before the grand jury, the indict 
 ment was changed, and Victor Hurst honorably cleared from 
 the slightest suspicion. 
 
 Milnor hastened to Rothermel with the tidings ; his sympa 
 thies warmly enlisted in the young man's behalf. 
 
 " I regret nothing so much as that I did not make a stronger 
 effort to see him when Miss Lowndes wished me to. With all 
 her shallow assumption she was right enough here." 
 
 "You think him talented, then ?" 
 
 The voice had a curiously hollow sound, and the hand on 
 which Kirke Giiliat rested his face trembled visibly. 
 
 " They are peculiar people all these Hursts. The mother 
 has a quiet strength in her soft, sad eyes, and she worships her 
 son passionately. I don't know what the father has been, for 
 he is a paralytic now, and his brain has not escaped ; but the 
 son's devotion to him, to them both, is remarkable. A strong,
 
 348 With Fate against Hint. 
 
 handsome youth, with a fine, rare soul, hitherto little under 
 stood ; but he is in the right place now. My lifelong regret 
 will be that I did not give him a helping hand in his hour of 
 need." 
 
 ' ' He has genius, then ?" 
 
 "That was where I stumbled. I was right in saying that he 
 would never make a painter, but he has been exercising his 
 talent in marble-cutting, and produced a bust of Sylvia Red 
 mond which is really wonderful. I think with ten years of study 
 and practice he might immortalize himself." 
 
 Would it be too late to claim him, presently, to lavish upon 
 him the gifts of Rothermel ? Rather it would be the proper 
 atonement for all this early neglect and wrong. 
 
 " You have not described him, yet you rouse me to a strange 
 interest, " 
 
 Milnor v/as softly pacing the antique room, with its painted 
 panels and dark wainscoting, its diamonded windows with the 
 light flickering quaintly through the small panes, the tall library 
 across one end, and the family portraits ranged at even spaces 
 down the sides. 
 
 "There is something odd about the face that haunts me, 
 as if I must have seen it before. Strong, resolute, handsome, 
 with a blending of Greek and Saxon and a peculiar tawny tint 
 of hair. Fiery, forceful, yet tempered with an inward grace." 
 
 "Well," impatiently, when the pause had been very long, 
 and the measured steps ceased. 
 
 " He looks as if he might have kinship with your mother, 
 Gilliat Yes, that must be it. What a strange resemblance !" 
 glancing at the portrait. 
 
 Kirke Gilliat said no more. His mother had been a queen 
 among women, too early lost for him. If this Victor Hurst 
 possessed half her nobleness ! 
 
 He rose and tottered to the door. If, when the choice had 
 been his to have a son who would love and honor him in 
 his old age, a son of whom he could be proud . The old
 
 With Fate against Him. 349 
 
 curse coming home. The mill grinding slowly but " exceed 
 ing small." 
 
 In her stately, elegant room lay Beatrice Gilliat. The shock 
 of her son's death had been severe, not cutting her off suddenly, 
 as Trewartha feared, but sapping the springs of life. She was 
 nearly helpless now. The sharp terror had sent the blood 
 in masses to her brain, slowly dulling every faculty, sight, 
 hearing, speech, and at intervals thought. 
 
 But in some moments there came pangs of fierce agony. A 
 vision of Hugh Gilliat, and her pitiless watching, her aims and 
 plans and patience. She had gained her wish, been Kirke 
 Gilliat 's wife, and mistress of Rothermel. 
 
 And here at middle age, with her beauty hardly impaired, 
 she was dying by inches. Other women lived to a happy old 
 age, saw their sons and daughters growing up around them, 
 and had grandchildren to prattle at their knee. Other women 
 were loved and caressed, but save for a brief year's infatuation 
 there had been little of this in her life. And now Kirke 
 Gilliat brooded over his dead son continually, she saw the 
 far, awesome light in his eyes when he looked at her. Had 
 she come between him and some cherished hope ? 
 
 Well for her that she was never to know. He would be 
 kind, attentive, solicitous to the very last ; but in the depths of 
 his heart there would be a corner where her beauty and im 
 perious grace had never penetrated. After all, had she not 
 reaped as she had sown ? For to the world's end the old law 
 will hold good the purple bloom of thistle will not turn into 
 the purple bloom and fragrance of grapes.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 EVENTFUL as the winter was at Cragness, it appeared to 
 pass very quietly. A mild, rather open season, leaving but 
 a few weeks in which the click of hammers and picks, and the 
 rumble of blasting might not be heard at the quarry. Every 
 thing worked favorably, and Victor found that he should 
 finish his contract in a much shorter time than he antici 
 pated-. 
 
 The trial had come and gone. The one positive link was 
 supplied by the confession of the now abject Jarvis, who, 
 like the coward he was, begged piteously for his life. The 
 fatal shot had been meant for Victor Hurst. How it had 
 gone so wide of its mark could only be accounted for by the 
 fact of the man being grossly intoxicated. 
 
 " I cannot wonder that father's soul was so moved against 
 intemperance," Victor said, solemnly. "It has been the cause 
 of this misfortune from first to last." 
 
 So the verdict was manslaughter. Mr. Milnor tried to keep 
 Eustace Gilliat's story as far in the background as possible. 
 Then the excitement died away, and there was no change save 
 that Victor had gained warm, appreciative friends. 
 
 There was no need of stolen, secret work. A room in 
 the little cottage was arranged for Victor's use his mother 
 would have it so. She filled one window with flowers, and 
 Trewartha brought some choice pictures. Mr. Milnor dropped 
 in and watched the young man at his self-taught labor, guided 
 by the finer impulses of soul and brain. Paul had a corner 
 where he sat and played on his violin and worshipped his 
 young friend. Drifting farther apart in purpose, they were still
 
 With Fate against Him. 361 
 
 brought nearer together by the tie of a peculiar and romantic 
 friendship. 
 
 Victor used to carry his father thither and place him on the 
 wide lounge with the cushions all about. Day by day he grew 
 weaker, gentler. He loved to listen to the weird, impassioned 
 melody evoked by Paul, and to watch Victor's strong white 
 fingers as some thought slowly budded and blossomed beneath 
 them. 
 
 Trewartha was a welcome guest to all, as well as Janet Mc- 
 Rae, who often lingered, studying the group, and especially 
 the young man, so strong in himself that he could disdain her 
 gifts. 
 
 "I don't know why I should care so much for him, Tre 
 wartha," she would exclaim, almost angrily. "I cannot say 
 that he is ungrateful, either ; but there is something about 
 him that is hard to understand." 
 
 Trewartha thought so, as well. It was not merely the pride 
 of being a self-made man, nor a shallow disdain of the assist 
 ance wealth could give. An underlying motive that time only 
 could fathom and he had no better advice than the patience 
 he used to recommend daily to himself. 
 
 There was one who never came ; but perhaps she was the 
 more in Victor's thoughts. He worked at this particular bit of 
 marble only when he was alone. Now and then Trewartha 
 would spy some improvement an added grace, a fine touch. 
 
 Sylvia Redmond had gone from her father's grave to St. 
 Albans. At first her mother received her ungraciously ; but 
 the child's voice was tenderer than that of the nurse, her touch 
 more gentle, her patience of a rarer quality. Not until arrange 
 ments were made for closing the house would she consent to 
 be removed, and then Rachel Braisted insisted upon it. 
 
 Sylvia took her post beside the querulous invalid, a weak, 
 restless, dissatisfied woman, whose trials had been sorer, whose 
 misfortunes had been greater, and whose nerves were more 
 finely sensitive than those of any other human being. Full of
 
 352 With Fate against Him. 
 
 petty tyrannies and exactions, quick to remark and distort the 
 least change of voice or manner, and brooding continually 
 over her own pains and woes, Sylvia had no light task to 
 soothe or comfort. The frivolous mind possessed no resources 
 within itself, now that worldly gayeties were at an end. These 
 grave, gentle women, full of almsgiving and good deeds, were 
 exceedingly tiresome to her, and the world outside found little 
 to charm in the faded, weak-souled being. Doctor Trewartha 
 alone was welcome, and even then, if he talked a moment too 
 long with Sylvia, the grace of the visit was dimmed. 
 
 What Sylvia endured, the God who gave her courage and 
 patience alone knew. She grew thin and worn, and deep 
 shadows settled under the eyes that had once held a child's 
 glad, eager hope. 
 
 Two or three times through the course of the winter Tre 
 wartha had persuaded her into a brief drive, but she would 
 call nowhere. 
 
 " Have you ceased to care for your old friends?" he asked 
 one day. "You positively shun Mrs. McRae and Ruth." 
 
 " It is best that I should keep to my duty only," in her sad, 
 quiet voice. 
 
 "But if your physical strength should get exhausted too 
 soon ?" with a look of intense anxiety. 
 
 "It will not. Do not feel troubled about me, dear 
 friend." 
 
 She listened when he spoke of Victor, but asked no ques 
 tions. It seemed quite impossible to rouse her to any warm, 
 human interest ; and Trewartha had a wild fear that her 
 mother's death would snap the frail chords that bound her to 
 earth. 
 
 The blow was mercifully sudden. Mrs. Redmond would 
 hear nothing of death, and seemed to shrink from it with a 
 peculiar horror. It was well, therefore, that the closing pang 
 should be brief. 
 
 They laid her beside her husband one dull, lowering Feb-
 
 With Fate against Him. 363 
 
 ruary cKv, as if in keeping with the shady part of her life, now 
 gone up to be judged of God. 
 
 Sylvia was unnaturally grave and composed, and rode back 
 with her cousins. But Trewartha followed her to the sitting- 
 room before she could divest herself of her wrappings. 
 
 "I am to be master, now," and an under-current of power 
 that she had no strength to resist floated in with the words 
 from his strong, tender tone. "You need a change, or I will 
 not answer for your life." 
 
 ' ' Does it matter much ?" in her weary manner. 
 
 "I think it does. Miss Rachel, you will trust me, I know." 
 
 He carried her down to his own light wagon that stood at 
 the gate, and wrapped her well with the robes. Then touch 
 ing the coal-black horses, they were off like the wind. Sylvia 
 was forced to gasp for breath ; and the exertion brought a tint 
 of color to her pale lips, though the white face looked very 
 wan and tired. 
 
 He paused at length at Cragness. She would fain have 
 resisted, but he lifted her out, led her up the broad steps with 
 his strong arm around her, the small feet barely touching 
 the ground. 
 
 "Friend Janet," he exclaimed, "here is a work and a 
 duty to bring this bit of marble back to the rosy flesh and 
 blood we found here a year ago. " 
 
 Only a year ! Sylvia shivered. It seemed ten at least. 
 
 Ruth came over, her slow-moving eyes full of tender pity, 
 and began to unfasten the wraps as if Sylvia had been a 
 baby. 
 
 ' ' You will care for her tenderly.'' 
 
 If he had asked Ruth Gamier to walk to the mouth of a 
 fiery, burning crater, she would have obeyed. 
 
 "Child, there has been many a sad hour in the year," and 
 Janet McRae drew her down to the ample lap, and pressed hei 
 to the beating heart still firm and strong; "but, please God, 
 there will be sunshine again."
 
 364 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "Never for me," the aching heart cried inwardly. 
 
 The change did not come a moment too soon. For a 
 week Sylvia wavered, lying on the sofa most of the time, 
 brightening only through Trewartha's visits. 
 
 Ruth watched them with a peculiar fascination. Why had 
 she felt so much more satisfied and at ease when she heard 
 that Sylvia was to marry Eustace Gilliat ? What pain was this 
 running through her pulses like a bit of fie ry, jagged light 
 ning ? 
 
 And as Sylvia gained she began to lose. For presently a 
 gleam of health shone in the eyes, and the hollow cheeks 
 began to round to their olden -contour. The little hands no 
 longer shook like a stray leaf in the autumn blast, but had a 
 firm, warm clasp of their own. And hers were always cold 
 now, save for these fitful flashes. 
 
 She tried to think how it would be. Especially one day, 
 when Doctor Trewartha took them both over to the Cedars to 
 lunch. She sat at the head of the table after a little demur, but 
 it was to Sylvia he talked, and Sylvia who gave back sweet, 
 dainty, answering smiles. What was it that made women loved 
 so easily, that thrust the less fortunate ones aside? 
 
 Sylvia ran over the house and exhumed mines of treasures, 
 questioned, teased, thereby giving out glimpses of her olden 
 self. Was it because she was tired that she should pause 
 presently before the wide grate, and slip into a great cushioned 
 chair, where Trewartha found her, with her eyes shut but not 
 asleep, the firelight crowning her drooping head ? 
 
 The fitful March day had vibrated from gusts to sunshine. 
 Now a flurry of snow thickened the air and made a kind of 
 hoar twilight. 
 
 Trewartha went in search of Ruth, who was standing alone 
 by the great basin of lilies, herself as white as they, save the 
 crown of dusky hair. 
 
 "Come," he said. 
 
 She turned with a sharp pain. Would they not let her have
 
 With Fate against Him. 355 
 
 a moment in which she could escape from the vivid picture of 
 their love and happiness? And then she shook her head. 
 
 " Go to Sylvia," she cried, with sudden heat and emphasis. 
 
 "Sylvia is resting, curled Up in a great chair like a kitten. 
 Will you come and look at her ?" 
 
 He reached over for her hand. It was cold and passive, and 
 the lips trembled. 
 
 " I will not disturb her," she said. "Go yourself." 
 
 He laughed low and provokingly, reading what she thought 
 so securely hidden. 
 
 "Why are your hands so cold? And why are you pale 
 and grave? Has the winter taken away your warmth and 
 bloom ?" 
 
 "You hurt me!" as his clasp tightened. "I came here 
 to be alone, to think " 
 
 "And of what avail is the endless thinking? Does it 
 bring you any nearer the great truth ? Why do you not open 
 the eyes of your soul, of your spirit ?" 
 
 "Because I was born blind !" passionately. 
 
 " No, you were not. No woman ever is until she makes 
 some black, wilful blindness for herself. Look up at me, Ruth. 
 Can you read any secret in my face ?" 
 
 A faint color stirred in ,hers and the lips trembled. Then 
 some power stronger than herself shook her very soul and 
 forced her to speak over a great pang. 
 
 "I think you love Sylvia Redmond ?" 
 
 "Yes, I love her ;" and he smiled in his peculiar, wayward 
 fashion. " I love her as one loves a child. I should like to be 
 her father, Ruth, and have a right to order all her pretty ways ; 
 to chide when she was too grave, as she often is now ; to have 
 a brave young lover come, whose sjnile would bring roses to 
 her cheeks ; to give her a wedding-breakfast in this old hall, 
 and to keep her still, to see her children playing around my 
 knees, and to kiss their soft, warm faces. Yet it may never 
 happen."
 
 356 With Fate against Him. 
 
 Her eyes opened wide with an intent, startled light. 
 
 ' ' And you read nothing else ?" 
 
 " Let me go," she cried, as a quick pain pierced her very 
 soul. 
 
 ' ' Why ? Am I so distasteful ? Ruth, you are jealous of 
 Sylvia." 
 
 "I jealous !" in a hard, hollow, incredulous tone, the lines 
 about the mouth growing rrgid, and the eyes downcast. 
 
 "Yes. Child, are you blind? Can you not see that I love 
 you, you?' 
 
 "No, I will not come between. She is sweet and fond. She 
 loves you," with a strange, pathetic cry that moved his whole 
 soul. 
 
 "So, the lesson is all to learn. Janet McRae taught you as 
 much as one woman can teach another : the rest is a man's 
 province. Listen, Ruth, I am twice your age. In the hot, 
 impatient days of youth, I had one mad passion-dream that 
 burned to ashes before the woman lay cold in her grave. Yet 
 if she had been true if she had loved me ! Will you dare to 
 bridge over that broken path ? I am wiser, more patient, yet 
 the boy's folly is not all gone. My soul obeys the universal 
 law, but forgive if it demands the best. The night Mrs. 
 McRae brought Victor Hurst home, I knew that I loved you. 
 Have I not waited long enough ?" 
 
 "Oh," she said, abashed and distressed, "I have no right ; 
 for she " 
 
 " Yes ; I knew her plans. I said, if this woman can love 
 another, I will stand back. He is younger, fresher, and it is 
 my friend's wish. But you could not " 
 
 " No, I could not ;" with a shiver. "And I think he never 
 loved me. If I am slow and grave and passionless " 
 
 ' ' My darling, hearts respond only to the touch which rouses 
 them. There is much yet to learn. May I be your teacher?" 
 
 She raised her eyes slowly and he read assent 
 
 Sylvia came to find them long afterward.
 
 With Fate against Him. 357 
 
 "It is growing dusk," she said. " I fell asleep there by the 
 fire and had a delicious rest. But we must go home." 
 
 Ruth stooped and kissed Sylvia with sudden fervor. 
 
 Once at Cragness, he sent his horses to the stable. While 
 the girls went to smoolhe their ruffled plumes, he sought Mrs. 
 McRae. 
 
 ' ' Frank Trewartha, I have a scolding ready for you. Does 
 lunch at the Cedars last all day?" and she glanced sharply at 
 him. 
 
 "Mother Janet, be merciful to your son, who henceforward 
 will do his best to please you, and who entreats you for Ruth. 
 Bid him God speed, for he only holds the key of her soul. It 
 is not what you planned." 
 
 " No. My plans are fine failures," in a tone of asperity that 
 showed she still felt a pang of disappointment. "I have 
 trained human bodies, but shall never meddle with a human 
 soul again. Go your way. Love and marry. I am a lonely 
 old woman, with no birdling in the nest." 
 
 But she smiled that night when she saw them together, while 
 her heart yearned over Sylvia. 
 
 March softened into showery April, and May laughed at them 
 both with her bosom full of blossoms. The old story of life 
 and death and change went on, and brought to Victor Hurst 
 the freedom that he had once so coveted. For John Hurst fell 
 asleep calmly, trusting in the God whom he had served in his 
 honest, earnest way, according to the light vouchsafed. What 
 life is exempt from mistakes and failures ? Well for us that 
 God gathers up the fragments and shapes them anew in the 
 likeness of Himself and His glorified Son. 
 
 A sweet, tranquil death. Anah Hurst would always remem 
 ber it. Not one pang did she care to have taken back not one 
 of the many trials. 
 
 One night, late in May, Victor found Sylvia in the old 
 churchyard and walked home with her. Both were strangely 
 silent at first. She was thinking of what she had heard that
 
 358 With Fate against Him. 
 
 day. The quarry contract was completed, and another had 
 been offered. But Janet McRae had gone down to the cottage 
 and said her say to Victor Hurst and his mother, command 
 ing them to think the matter well over before they answered 
 her. 
 
 "He will not consent," she declared to Trewartha; "I 
 saw it in his eyes. Something that we shall never know holds 
 him. But I can do no more, no more. If I must sit alone 
 at last by my fireside, so let it be. If the work of my whole 
 life crumbles to ashes, I cannot help nor hinder. Why should 
 I have been led to love the lad so well only to know a more 
 bitter desolation at the last ? Is it some punishment for my 
 pride and vain-glory ?" 
 
 This was fresh in Sylvia's mind. Her own passionate grief 
 she scarcely remembered. She had never dared to love as 
 Ruth, and other happier women, and yet she knew well that 
 this man held all the rose-color of her otherwise neutral-tinted 
 life. She had known so much sorrow, so little real joy. 
 
 And yet now she pitied Mrs. McRae profoundly. The lone 
 liness appeared tenfold more painful to her. Why could he 
 not consent and stay ? 
 
 Here was the great house looming before them. He 
 might be master of it with a word. Yet, if he were a wanderer, 
 an exile, a criminal even, her heart would always yearn toward 
 him. 
 
 They came to the gate. "Will you not walk in?" she asked, 
 in a half-hesitating, half-entreating way. 
 
 " I think not. It is best not ;" as if to assure himself. 
 
 " You have decided to go away ?" 
 
 Something in her soft tone stirred him strangely, an uncom 
 plaining pathos, a lingering regret. Would she care ? 
 
 "If I went I should be soon forgotten. Yes, it is best." 
 
 "No, you would not be forgotten ;" in an assured tone, that 
 moved him again. Why did he feel so weak and uncertain 
 here with her ?
 
 With Fate against Him. 359 
 
 "I suppose, being a man, the prospect is templing. And to 
 work one's way up to greatness, to win honor and fame " 
 
 " I used to think a great deal of that," quietly. "1 was am 
 bitious. I wanted to do something above the common level, 
 to win a position equal to " 
 
 He paused. Eustace Gilliat in his grave, or the little girl 
 by his side ? for both had roused his ambition. 
 
 ' ' As you will. " There was a sad despair in her tone. 
 
 " I have come to look differently at life. A man may carve 
 his soul into a statue, or write it through the measure of some 
 glowing poem, yet he is not a better man because the world 
 recognizes the fact and praises him. When we think of this 
 little life, with its silver clasp of four score and ten years, and the 
 greater one stretching out beyond, where God judges, and not 
 the narrow vision of man, one needs to have something more 
 than leaves the well-ripened grain. God may require our 
 brother's soul at our hands." 
 
 "Yes. The work with the higher, spiritual significance." 
 
 "So I have learned to think of others as well as myself. I 
 do not want all pure personal aims." 
 
 "Think of her !" Sylvia exclaimed, with a choking throb in 
 her throat. " And the duties here " 
 
 He turned, glancing abstractedly to the pale gleam where the 
 young moon was coming up. Were there any duties here for 
 him ? Was it not rather a chimera of these women's brains ? 
 If the great law and power that he had called fate all his life 
 was not working so strong and positive against him 
 
 Between his eyes and the yellow glow yonder he saw Sylvia 
 Redmond's face. The child-woman that he should always 
 love, who in the long years to come would grow slowly into 
 angelic ideality. From Trewartha he had heard the particulars 
 of her brief engagement, and perhaps understood better than 
 the Doctor himself how she had drifted into it. Her own pure 
 self-denying life had begun with tenderest truth and courage at 
 her dying father's bedside, and he freely pardoned the mistakes
 
 360 With Fate against Him. 
 
 of the past, holding no grudge against any moment of weak 
 ness. Had he any part and lot in her life, as she had in his ? 
 Would he not owe her some explanation, as well as Mrs. Mc- 
 Rae, for the great wrench of final separation ? 
 
 He came nearer, he took her cold, limp hand that began to 
 tremble in his touch, sending fiery thrills through his veins. 
 Yes, he loved her, loved her ! Was she so far distant as to be 
 quite unapproachable ? 
 
 "Miss Redmond Sylvia my duty here has been exagger 
 ated in ignorance. You know the old story of the bond 
 woman and the free woman, and how the son of the former 
 became an outcast. I have been weakly putting off some 
 thing due to Mrs. McRae. When this is told the doors of 
 Cragness will be opened wide before me, and I shall have the 
 world beyond in which to make my mark. I am not like other 
 men" his steely eyes deepening, and the scarlet lip in a 
 quiver. "Some men have to bear about with them the result 
 of the sins of others. I am one." 
 
 It seemed at the moment as if she would have fallen, if she 
 had not clutched his arm in that eager, desperate fashion. 
 
 " John Hurst " she faltered. 
 
 "His record is clear and noble. It is my mother and I 
 who must suffer for a cruel and bitter falsehood. While he 
 who had been a father to me lived, my lips were sealed, and 
 now I have been cowardly in putting off the evil day. There 
 is a taint in my blood which would sully Cragness with its 
 honorable ancestry. Yet why should I delay ? Let me go and 
 have it ended. " 
 
 He opened the gate, standing aside for her to pass, and 
 strode up the remainder of the path. She dragged herself 
 along, her brain in a strange whirl, dimly guessing at the awful 
 pain that he had borne, longing to comfort, and yet dumb with 
 her own wordless anguish of love. 
 
 "I doubt if I ever cross this threshold again," he com 
 mented, sharply.
 
 With Fate against Him. 361 
 
 " I shall wait for you here," she said, sitting down in one 
 of the great carved oaken hall-chairs. " Nothing can make 
 any difference to a man's soul but his own sins." 
 
 He seized her hands in a strange transport " And if I 
 were an outcast, with the finger of honor pointed at me in scorn, 
 if I had to make a new name, to come up through poverty 
 and toil, and perhaps fail, working against overpowering odds, 
 what would I be to you then ? nothing ?" 
 
 The words were uttered in a low, hurried, passionate breath, 
 and by the light he glanced at her pale face. 
 
 "You will still be Victor my king. In God's world the 
 one who wins is crowned, even though men may never dis 
 cover the royal signet." 
 
 He stooped and kissed her hand with burning lips, then 
 hurried to the door whose portals were to open upon his 
 secret. 
 
 Janet McRae sat in her high-backed chair, with no light in 
 the room, save the ruddy blaze of the pine-logs just kindled. 
 Her face looked a little worn and perplexed, he thought. 
 
 " Have you brought Sylvia home ? You would never come 
 without an excuse, I fancy," she said, with some asperity. "I 
 saw you half an hour ago walking down the road. " 
 
 "I brought her in yes." Then he paused, walking 
 straight up to the brilliant firelight 
 
 She saw something in his face, a set resolve that was akin 
 to the rigidity of death. 
 
 "Forgive!" and her tone softened, "I am a cranky old 
 woman, but you try me, Victor Hurst, you try me 1" 
 
 With that she came and stood beside him, placed her hand 
 on his shoulder, and endeavored to read these baffling lines. 
 
 "It is for the last time ;" and there was a touch of solem 
 nity in his voi -e. "I have a story to tell you, and I think 
 afterward you ^ill be able to judge me more clearly. If I have 
 been weak and cowardly in thus keeping it a secret, in coming 
 here when I knew that I must one day be confessed other than
 
 362 With Fate against Him. 
 
 I appeared, remember in extenuation that it was not for my 
 own sake. God gave me some duties to another, and when I 
 began to see them, they were sacred in my eyes." 
 
 " There has always been some mystery about you. How far 
 it was due to morbid pride " 
 
 "I fought off that devil 1 No, it was an honest question 
 between truth and silence. While I could not speak the truth, 
 I compelled myself to risk being misunderstood, and perhaps 
 considered ungrateful." 
 
 She held up her hand and he paused in his justification. 
 
 "You have been nobly generous. I think, too, that you 
 have given me a strange, yearning love. I have felt as if I 
 could be your very servant to your life's end ; but that is not 
 what you want Sonship and heirship I cannot take, the 
 honor of this long, pu^e line is not for me. I am not John 
 Hurst's son !" 
 
 "Not John Hurst's son ! Not Anah McRae's child 1" and 
 her eyes seemed to pierce his very soul. 
 
 "Anah McRae's child yes." 
 
 Her hand dropped from his shoulder, and a mortal paleness 
 overspread her features. He crossed his arms on his chest, 
 and stood there in the firelight crowned with youth, integrity, 
 and manly beauty, a soul replete with the highest capabilities. 
 A man to make himself respected, honored, loved. 
 
 "Yes." His tone was low but strong and clear. "I must 
 justify my mother. For a brief while she believed herself 
 legally married to a man whose simple word would have been 
 a bond to any of his compeers. God knows that it was not 
 her fault nor mine that I was crowded out of an honorable 
 birthright. But the world that can forgive crimes of revenge 
 and dishonesty, has no condonement for this. Now you know 
 why I could not accept your honors, your affection even, at its 
 full value. Perhaps I was wrong to come in any event, but 
 my purpose was simply to work. How could I dream ?" 
 
 Janet McRae took two or three steps and sank into her chair.
 
 With Fate against Him. 363 
 
 "Who knows this?" she demanded fiercely, though her 
 voice was strangely hollow. 
 
 "My mother and myself, and " yes, it was better to tell the 
 whole truth now " Kirke Gilliat." 
 
 She was silent so long, that he threw himself on his knees 
 before her, and took the trembling hands in his. 
 
 "Forgive me," he cried in anguish. "It was not a fact 
 one could soften. God knows that I would have spared you 
 any pain that was possible. You see now why I must be an 
 outcast until I earn a place among my fellow-men, and then 
 I can never come wholly out of the shadow." 
 
 "Leave me now." Her voice was weak and broken, with 
 the quaver of old age in it. "I must think a little. Kirke 
 Gilliat's son !" wincing as if some one had struck her a blow, 
 
 "Bring your mother up here to-morrow I must see her. 
 And I will tell you then." 
 
 He walked partly across the room, then came back to where 
 she sat so bowed and stricken. 
 
 "You understand that I could not have taken your love or 
 your honors with this secret untold. I should have loathed 
 myself for cowardice and hypocrisy. There have been times 
 when I could have cried out against God's injustice, as I 
 thought it ; but when Kirke Gilliat's sore punishment over 
 took him I was shamed into silence. There is a deeper lesson 
 in it than I have yet learned. But wherever I go, to whatever 
 station I may attain, this year at Cragness will be like the palm 
 and the fountain in the desert of my life. How much T owe 
 you for the sake of one dead, I never can put into words." 
 
 "I have not sent you away: remember that," she cried 
 weakly. "You will come to-morrow." 
 
 Victor bowed and withdrew. Sylvia still sat crouched in 
 the hall ; but she glanced up with desperate, questioning eyes. 
 He took her hand. 
 
 "I will bind you by no promises," he said. "You shall 
 b<i quite free ; but you must know you do know, that I love
 
 364 With Fate against Him. 
 
 you. There may be brighter fortunes for you than to go into 
 exile with me." 
 
 "I choose it, I choose it 1" she cried, in accents of strong, 
 steadfast faith. "Whatever you were, my love would be the 
 same. If you had gone in silence, I must still have loved. 
 For all time, forever." 
 
 He kissed the quivering lips, and strained her to his heart. 
 No matter how great the wreck, he had saved this priceless 
 treasure. One old dream had come true she would be the 
 judge and inspiration of his future, of his work. It was not so 
 hard to be an outcast as it had looked an hour ago. 
 
 Doctor Trewartha and Ruth Gamier had the spacious room 
 and glowing fire to themselves that evening. Sylvia went to 
 bed directly after supper, and Madam McRae wanted solitude 
 and silence. All the strong prejudices of a lifetime were to be 
 combatted. The McRae blood might not be heroic, but it 
 was clean, honorable, and through the long line there had 
 been no such miserable soul as Eustace Gilliat. Was that 
 God's way of punishing a secret sin? Ah, in the face of His 
 sharp judgment what right had she to deal out anything but 
 mercy? Why should she make the innocent suffer for the 
 guilty ? They had borne the burden, and he who laid it upon 
 them had been prospered, honored. Should she swell the 
 list of the world's false and easily-biased judges ? 
 
 Her face was worn and gray at breakfast the next morning. 
 Sylvia watched it furtively, but the stern lines never relaxed. 
 And she hid the precious secret in her heart, gloating over it, 
 that whatever came, she would not be thrust out of his life, 
 but find there her work and her abiding-place. 
 
 The morning was strangely long. Doctor Trewartha came 
 over and insisted upon taking Ruth and Sylvia out to drive ; 
 but Sylvia persisted in declining. 
 
 "Go to your room, then," said Mrs. McRae, brusquely. 
 "I must be alone." 
 
 Watching from her window, she saw Victor Hurst and his
 
 With Fate against Him. 366 
 
 mother come up the winding avenue. At any other time she 
 would have flown down-stairs ; but now a secret delicacy for 
 bade. She listened to Mrs. McRae's slow step, so unlike the 
 tread of a day ago ; and then she sat tormenting herself with 
 the strange mischances of life the mingled good and evil, 
 like golden and gray threads in a warp. 
 
 It seemed hours to her. She saw the farm-hands go up and 
 down ; the sturdy women, with their careless gayety ; and 
 occasionally a stray child rilling out the picture. Long after 
 ward, a well-known form, that sent a strange, cold apprehen 
 sion through ever}' nerve. A summons for her, perhaps; 
 for what should Mr. Gilliat want of any other inmate in that 
 house. 
 
 She went down mechanically, for the mere sake of doing 
 something ; the solitude oppressed her so like a dead weight. 
 Listening to the voices in the hall she went forward. 
 
 " Yes, Hannah, Mrs. Hurst is here, engaged with Mrs. 
 McRae. " 
 
 "Ah, Sylvia!" and Mr. Gilliat came toward her, taking 
 both hands gravely, "I had not thought of seeing you here. 
 My child, there have been many sorrows since our last meet 
 ing. " 
 
 All the tragedy of their lives lay between. 
 
 "Do you know if I could see Mrs. Hurst alone? If you 
 will hand her this card ?" 
 
 Sylvia ushered him into the seldom used drawing-room, and 
 then tapped lightly at the other door. 
 
 "We are engaged," the voice replied, impatiently. She 
 opened it the merest trifle. " Mrs. McRae, if you will please 
 give this to Mrs. Hurst," thrusting forward the penciled mes 
 sage. 
 
 "Yes ; run away, Sylvia, Child ;" and the door was shut. 
 
 She walked slowly up-stairs again, wondering. Would they 
 never be done? And what could Mr. Gilliat want? How 
 grave and sorrowful he looked. Ah, if these wearisome mys-
 
 366 With Fate against Him. 
 
 teries were only at an end, if she might hear the one voice so 
 dear to her 1" 
 
 When Anah Hurst entered the dim drawing-room, her eyes 
 still bore traces of weeping ; but there was a sad, sweet dignity 
 about her, a blending of gracious, yet sorely-tried womanhood. 
 She did not take the hand half-proffered ; her heart was too full 
 for mere courtesy toward Kirke Gilliat. 
 
 He apologized briefly for his intrusion. He had sought her 
 at her cottage, and learning she was at Cragness had followed 
 thither. Urgent business only could have prompted him to 
 come. He had something to restore to her, and 
 
 With that he placed a folded paper in her hands. She opened 
 it slowly. 
 
 "Why do you bring me this now?" she asked, in great 
 calmness. "If it was a mockery, then, what circumstances 
 can ever make it less so ?" 
 
 "It is possible to make some amends for the past. I came 
 for our child's sake. " 
 
 The voice wavered curiously. Anah Hurst took in all at 
 once. He was free from bonds. Death had released him, 
 given him liberty to speak. 
 
 He was the lover of her youth, the father of her child. 
 Through all these years she had never been able to cast him 
 out utterly, though she no longer loved. He had changed 
 too. The portly, worldly, self-conscious man was so different 
 from the ideal she remembered. 
 
 " It is too late, " she replied. 
 
 "No, no !" with sudden haste and terror. "Think what I 
 can give him, if you will take nothing for yourself. And once, 
 in those old days, you loved me." 
 
 "That is dead." 
 
 "Anah, Anah ! do not be so pitiless. Hear my confession. 
 I have been a madman, a weak coward, a despicable villain ; 
 but circumstances were stronger than I. You were my lawful 
 wife then. Why did some plausable devil smoothe the way for
 
 With fate against Him. 367 
 
 me? Why did all things hurry me toward this mad, miserable 
 ending? The man who married us, a stranger in the little 
 town, went West and died three months afterward, and this foul 
 temptation haunted me until it took me in a giant's clasp. I 
 did struggle, but fate was against me. There was my grand 
 father's will, the promise he had extorted from me, my cousin's 
 regard a swift current that seemed to bear me down. But if 
 I had known if I had known !" 
 
 She studied him like something apart from her own life. 
 The first sin God had helped her to forgive ; but this cowardly 
 cruelty, begging for itself when it found all its other plans 
 defeated, was too weak and contemptible. 
 
 "And you kept silence all these years?" 
 
 " What else could I do ? I waited until it was too late to 
 speak, and then I bore my burden with outward composure. I 
 was a loyal husband to the one who has gone ; but God cursed 
 me in her child, in everything, I think. And now I wish to 
 retrace my steps. Can I find no place for repentance? Is 
 it too late for all amends ? Remember that Victor is my child 
 as well, and have a little pity." 
 
 "You had none on me then," with a sharp, passionate 
 cry. ' ' You left us to perish, or to live disgraced. If he 
 were vile and miserable, if we had both gone down to the 
 place where you thrust us, would you be willing to help 
 raise him ? This is a man's tardy justice and repentance." 
 
 Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and a fine indignation veiled 
 in scarlet suffused her face. 
 
 " No, I throw myself upon your mercy. I ask for a little 
 right in my son, for the privilege of restoring him to his 
 own station. The world need never know our secret. When 
 the proper time comes I can take you home honorably, if you 
 will, and your son shall be master at Rothermel. It is no 
 mean heritage." 
 
 " My answer is, that I would rather be a menial in my kins 
 woman's household than mistress of yours. If you think
 
 368 With Fate against Him. 
 
 that empty honor can compensate for my bitter pangs, you 
 read me poorly indeed." 
 
 "Empty honor? Anah, I was weakly fascinated by a 
 woman whose charms were manifold, but jour name only 
 has been engraven on my heart. God knows that it has been 
 hard work to keep from loving you while I had no right" 
 
 Yes, love was utterly dead, killed by falsehood, treachery, 
 and selfishness. 
 
 "My son shall choose for himself," she said, quietly, ignor 
 ing his appeal. Then she walked across the hall to the room 
 she had so lately left, the open paper still in her hand. Mrs. 
 McRae and Victor were surprised by her stately bearing. 
 
 "There !" she exclaimed, in a strong, clear tone. " Read 
 it, both of you. This clergyman's signature raises me in the 
 world's estimation, clears you from all stain. If you want a 
 father and a fortune, he is there waiting for you. But no 
 wealth, no honor, no late regard can give me back the lost 
 lover of my youth 1 I shall remain true and loyal to the man 
 who saved me in my hour of need John Hurst's widow, 
 always. But Kirke Gilliat waits for you. " 
 
 She had been proud of him many a time before, but never 
 so proud as when she sent him in the flush of his youth and 
 manly beauty to stamp the ineffaceable wrong home to Kirke 
 Gilliat's soul, that in its self-complacency fancied this deep and 
 bitter sin could be righted with deatest gain to himself. 
 
 But when Victor had gone she laid her head in Janet Mc- 
 Rae's lap and sobbed with a woman's keen, overwhelming 
 passion.. 
 
 ' ' I am glad to be pure and honorable in your eyes, my 
 friend, my friend !" 
 
 "Who am I that I should judge? God forgive me for 
 having arrogated that power to myself!'' 
 
 The strange day was near its ending. A soft, mellow sunset, 
 with a golden haze diopping to purple twilight. The tragedy
 
 With Fate against Him. 369 
 
 and pain of their lives rounding as tranquilly, perhaps, and 
 folding the old day of sorrow into a soft winding-sheet ere it 
 was laid away in the tomb. 
 
 A strange time indeed for Victor Hurst. He knew now 
 what a father's pride might be, and the awful retribution that 
 could come to wrong-doing, even though it might go on pros 
 perously for years. One human life was so linked in with 
 another, that no act was without wide-spread consequences, no 
 sin but what bore fruit to some later generation. 
 
 He was thinking now of his own life. How much work 
 there was to do on these broad acres. Towns to build ; pros 
 perity to evolve ; human lives to watch ; human souls to feed. 
 When a man has learned the grand secret of life, and compre 
 hends its sacred duties, labor is ennobled in his eyes for all 
 time. 
 
 There was work and duty here ; love, happiness. These 
 three women rested upon him for strength, for protection. 
 Would any mere selfish rambling about, seeking for pleasure 
 and honor, compensate for their solitary hours and hungering 
 pain? 
 
 He turned and smiled. Sylvia caught it up with the last 
 arrowy ray of sunset, and answered, slipping her child's hand 
 within his, so strong and warm. 
 
 "You will stay?" 
 
 "Ah, you read so quickly, my darling;" pleased at her 
 discernment. 
 
 ' ' You can study here. " 
 
 " As I told you, I may find better things than a statue souls 
 to assist." 
 
 Then, with his arm still around her, he drew her to Mrs. 
 McRae. 
 
 " Will you take us both ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. Sylvia, child, your eyes are clearer than my old 
 ones. Be a good wife to him. " 
 
 Mrs. Hurst came and kissed them both.
 
 370 With Fate against Him. 
 
 "There will be a double marriage, Trewartha," Mrs. McRae 
 said, as he was going away that evening. " Let them be quiet 
 and over with as speedily as possible. Ruth will always be my 
 eldest daughter." 
 
 But Ruth, learning her sweet lesson, was quite ready to leave 
 mother and home and go to her husband. It is best that it 
 should be so. 
 
 Tramping over the hills, Victor met Paul. 
 
 " It is decided," he announced, with a joyous ring. " I shall 
 remain here, work and study, and perhaps win a little fame. 
 Let your wanderings end, for I need you too." 
 
 The dark little face was aglow with pleasure. 
 
 And in the long life that came to him he was no idler. The 
 meaning of the greater work, demanded by God, grew clearer 
 to him ; the work to which we all add our mite, in honor or 
 dishonor ; in fair, bold writing, or blurred letters read only 
 through tears. 
 
 Kirke Gilliat hears of them in his great, solitary house. 
 Sylvia, his son's wife, but not here. Prattling children clus 
 tering around their knees, whose voices he will never listen to 
 in these old halls. 
 
 But he knows the black shadow, hanging over his lonely 
 years, which he calls fate, is only another name for God's watch 
 ful justice, that when it strikes, strikes surely. He chose the 
 purple and fine linen, and he has it a dreary mockery. 
 
 Over John Hurst's grave the flowers bloom, tended by loving 
 hands. If he had saved but one soul it would have been well 
 with him, but his feeble hands will not rise empty at the last 
 day.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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