Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 16 August 1895 — Page 7

By HALL OAINE,

Author of "The Manxman," "The Deemster," ctc.

The day dawned, and tlioy parted. Mylrev Balladhoo said lie would go home now, and away ho started along the shorn. •With coming of daylight his sorrow bled al'resh, and ho cried piteously.

Mona turned in the opposite direction.. She, 011 licr part, had not given up hope of Christian. She could not forget that •the had not recognized him among the men Who ran past her into Kisseck's house.

Christian was still alive, but who was it that was dead Mona stopped. The seaman's cap which Ghe had picked up at the porch of the deserted cottage in the quarry she had carried all night in her hand. At that instant she looked at it again, and seeing it for the first timo in the daylight sho saw that it was stained with spots of blood. It was Danny Fayle's cap. Then it must be Danny who was dead. Tho inference in her case was as swift as in tho case of Mylrea Balladhoo. And as little would argument or entreaty have prevailed to disturb it.

Danny was dead, and it was sho who had sent him to his death. His great little heart that had been broken for love of her had also died for her sake.

And now the anguish of the girl was not less than that of the old man himself. Where was Christian? Did lie know what Kisseek had (lone? It must havo been Kisseek. But God would, punish him. ••Had Christian gone out to sea? Mona set off for the Lockjaw creek, tliinking that some trace of Christian might perhaps be found there. blie took tho high path. Tho sun had risen, and tho gorse lire lmrnod blue.

When she came by tho month of tho old mine, she was thinking both of Danny and of Christian. "He will bo cold now. Ho will bo in heaven," sho muttered to herself.

Then it was that, half buried in the pit, she saw the pallid, deep plowed face of Christian himself. She could not suppress a cry. Then she heard the creak and fall of the timbers under him. For a moment she lost consciousness, and in another moment she was in Christian's arms. Hardly had tho bewildered senses of these two regained an instant's composure when a man came running toward them from the town. In disjointed words I10 told them that some fearful thing had washed ashore in the bay and that Mylrea Balladhoo was there raving over it like one mad. This is what had happened.

As Balladhoo turned along the shore toward his home, bemoaning what he believed to be the death of Christian, his dazed eye caught sight of a curious object some distance out at sea. It might be a gig with a sail, but it looked too small. It might be a diver or a solan gooso with outspread wings, but it looked too large What it was mattered little to him. Tho world had lost its light. The sun that shone above him entered not into his soul. His days henceforth were to be but as a shadow that passeth away.

Balladhoo walked on, moaning and crying aloud. As ho approached his house every step awoke a now grief every stone, every hedge was sacred to some memory. Here he had seen the lad playing with other lads. Here, laughing and calling, he had seen him rido the rough colt his father gave him. As he opened the gate he could almost imagine he saw a fair haired boy running to meet him, avwhip in one hand and a toy horse tumbling behind. Balladhoo lifted his head to brush away the blinding tears. As he did so his eyes fell on a window in the gable half hidden by the leafless boughs of an old TOSO tree. That awoke the bitterest and oldest memory of all. It was of a fair young woman's form, with joy in the blue eyes and laughter on the red lips. In her arms was a child, and as -.he cried to it "Look," the little one, pmnging and leaping, called "Papa, papa,"and clapped its tiny hands.

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed— No, Mylrea Balladhoo could not enter his house. It was full of too many specters.

Ho turned back. It was to be anywhere. He knew not where. Jemmy, the gardener, who had been awake all night in amazement and distress at his master's absence, saw him now approach the house, went up to his side, tried to speak to him, and failing to get. a word in reply walked in silence by his side.

He returned along the shore. And now the white thing which he had seen before was within CO yards of the beach and was sailing duo to land. What could it be? In a minute it drifted to Balladhoo's feet, and then he saw it. was a human body, which had been bound in canvas for burial at sea and had oome ashore in this strange way. He gave it but one glance. Ho did not look to see whose body it was. Ho concluded at once that it must bo tho body of Christian Had he not heard that the men had put out to sea? They had taken the body of his murdered son with them and had tried to burv it there ami hide their crime forever. It was all so terribly plain to Balladhoo's bewildered mind. Then he cried aloud in a tempest of agony that nothing could restrain. Ills religion seenwd to desert him At least 11 gave 110 comtort. His face became suddenly and awlully discolored and stern, and standing by the dread thing 011 the sand the totiering old man lifted his clinched fist to the sky 111 silent imprecation of heaven.

Jemmy Quark left him, and rushing to the town cried out that something horrible had washed ashore. One of those who heard him had seen Mona and Balladhoo part on the quay. This man went pursuit of tho young woman, who had been seen to take the path over Contrary.

And now Christian and Moua, with a group of others, hastened to the hav. There—seeing nothing but the dread thing lying 011 the shore—was Mylrea Balladhoo. Hcwascrynug aloud that if heaven had spared his boy hell might havo taken all else he had. "Oil, my son, my son, would to God I had died for you! Oh, my son, my son!"

Then the stricken father went down on his knees and stretched out a feeble, trembling hand to.draw aside the canvas that hid the face.

As he did so Mona and Christian came up. Christian stood opposite his father 011 the other side ot tho corpse tho old man on his knees, the son on his feet, the dead man between them.

The others stood around. None spoke Then Mona, motioning Christian to silence, stepped up to Balladhoo and knelt beside him. It was better that lie should realize tho truth by decrees and not too ••suddenly. lie would see the face and know that, it was not the face of bis son

Mona, on her part, knew it would be

Danny's lace, .UKI tne noy was ueaci. me beating of her heart fell low. There was a moment of unutterable suspense. Then, with rapid, audible breath, the old man stretched out a half palsied hand, and drew off the loose canvas.

They saw the face of Kisseek. Balladhoo got ui with great wide eyes. The.v before him, face to faeo with him, was Christian himself.

CHAPTER XY1II.

Wnen the crew ot the. Ben-my-chree had recovered from their first- consternation ai seeing the body of Kisseek rise to the surface and si loot awav like a specter boat-, they hoisted sail and stood once more out to sea. The gentle breeze filled the canvas, and for half an hour the jib lay over tho side, while the fishing boat scudded along like a startled bird.

The sun rose over the land, a thin gauze Obscuring it. The red light flashed and

died away as if tho wind were the sunshine. The haggard faces of the men caught at moments a lurid glow from it. In the west amass of bluish cloud rested a little while on tho horizon and then passed into a nimbus of gray raincloud that floated above it. Such was the dawn and sunrise of a fateful day.

They wero sailing north. They had no haven in their view. But Peel was behind them. Think what homo is to the fisherman who goes down into the great deep. Then know that to them home could be all this 110 longer. The silvery voices of girls, tne innocent, prattle ot little children, the welcome of wife, tho glowing hearth— these were theirs no more. Then belly out, brave sail, and back off with a noise like thunder. Let tho blocks creak and tho ropes st rain. Anywhere, anywhere away from the withering reproach of the crime of one and the guilt of all.

But they were standing only two miles off Jurby point when once more the wind fell to a dead calm. The men looked into each other's faces Here was tho work of fato. There was to be 110 (lying away. God meant them to die on liese waters. The sail flapped idly. They furled it, and the boat drifted south.

Then one after one sat down on deck, helpless and hopeless. Hours went by. The day wore 011. A passing breath sometimes stirred the waters, and again all around was dumb, dead, pulseless peace. Hearing only the faint flap of the rippling tide, they drifted, drifted, drifted.

Then they thought of home once more, and now with other feelings. Death was before them—slow, sure, relentless death. There was to be no jugglery. Let it be death at home rather than death on this desert sea. Anything, anything but this blind end—this dumb end—this dying bit by bit on still waters. To see the darkness come again and the sun rise afresh, and once more the sun sink and the darkness deepen, and still to lie there with nothing around but the changeless sea, and nothing above but the empty sky, and only the eye of God upon them, while the winds and'the waters lay in his avenging hand. Let it rather bo death—swift death, just death—there where their crime was attempted and one black deed was done.

Thus despair took hold of them and drove all lear away. Each hard man, with despair seated on his rugged face, longed, like a sick child, to lay his head in the lap of home. "What's it saying?" muttered the old man Quilleash. 'A green hill when far away bare, bare when it is near.'

It was some vague sense o£ their hopelessness that was floating through the old man's mind as he recalled the pathetic Manx proverb. The others looked down at the deck with a stony stare.

Danny still lay forward. When the speck that had glided along the waters could bo seen no more, he had turned and gazed in silence toward the eastern light and the distant shores of morning. If madness be the symbol on earth of the tortures of the damned, Danny had then a few hours' blessed respite. He saw calmly what he had done and why he had done it. "Surely God is just," he thought. "Surely he will not condemn mo. Surely, surely not." Then, amid surging inward tears, which his eyes refused to shed, the siiuple lad tried to recidl the good words that he had heard in the course of his poor, neglected, battered life. One after one they came back.to hm, most of them from 601110 faraway and hazy dream world, 6trangel.v bright with the vision of a face that looked fondly upon him and even kissed him tenderly. "Gentle Jesus" and "Now I lay me down to sleep"—he could remember them both pretty*vvell, and their simple words went up with the supplicatory ardor of his "great grown heart to the sky on which his longing eyes were bent.

The thought of Mona intertwined itself with the yearning hope of pardon and peace. It sustained him now to think of her. Sho became part of his scheme of penitence. His love for her was to redeem him in the Father's eye. He was to take it to the foot of God's white throne, and when his guilt came up for judgment he was to lay it meekly there and look up into the good Father's face. God had sent him his great love, and it was not for his harm that he had sent it.

Then a film overspread his sight, and when he awoko he knew that, ho had slept. He had seen Moua 111 a dream. There was a happy thought 111 her face. She loved and was beloved. Everything about her spoke of peace. All her troubles were gono forever. No, not that either. In her eyes was the reflection of. Ills own face, and sometimes it made them sad. At the memory of tins the lined up well of Danny's own eves moistened at last to tears.

The cold, thick winter dav was far worn toward sunset. Not a breath ol wind was stirring. Gilded by the sun rays, the waters to tin* west made a floor of bleared red. The fishing boat had drifted nearly ten miles to tho south It she should drift two miles more, she must float into tne southeasterly current, that flows muter Contrary head. Tho crew lay half frozen 011 the deck. ,0 one eared tor'go below All was still around them, and silence was in their lniittt.. At last a man lifted his head and asked if any one could say what had become ol Christian. No one knew Old Quilleash thought he must have come by some mischief anil perhaps be captured or even dead. It was only the general hopelessness of their hearts that gave a ready consent to this view of the possibilities. Then they talked of Christian as if ho wero 110 longer a living man "He didn't want to be 111 it, didn't the young masther, said one. "Didyou see how he was for crisscrossin and putt 111 up obstacles at every turn?" said another. "That was notlim to the way he was glad when we saw tho lad's fire over the Lockjaw and had to make a slant for it and lea\ the thing not done." "Aw, well, well," said Quilleash, "it was poor Bill that's gone. God help him, that led the young masther into the shoal water. What it savin? 'Black as is tho raven, he'll get a partner.' But Bill, poor clmj), he must be for makm a raven out of a dove." "God won't bo hard on the masther.

Ao, 110, Got 11 never no nam on a goon heart because it keeps company with a bad head." "It'll be Bill, poor chap, that'll have to stand for it, when the big day conies, said Davy Cain. "No. not. that anyway. Still, for sure, it's every herrin must hang by his own gill. Aw. yes. man," said Tommy Tear. "Poor Masther Christian," said Quilleash. "I remember him since he was a baby in his mother's arms—and a fine lady tifo. And when he grew uj) it was, 'Howare you, Billy Quilleash?' And when he came straight, from Oxford college, and all the larnin at- him, and the line English tongue and all to that.it was, 'And how are you today, Billy?' 'I'm middliu today, Masther Christian.' Aw, yes, yes, a tender heart at him anyhow, and no prido at all, at all.''

The old man's memories were not thrilling to narrate, but they brought the tears

to his eyes, and he brushed them away with his sleeve. They were now drifting past Peel, two miles from tho coast.. It was Christmas eve. Old Quilleash thought of this, and they talked of Christmas eves gone by and of what happy days there had been. This was too tender a chord, and they were soon silent once more. Then, while the waters lay cold and clear and still and the sun was sinking in the west, there camo floating to them from tho land through the breathless air the sound of church bells. It was the last drop in their cup. Tho rude men could bear up no longer. More than one dropped his head on to his knees and sobbed aloud. Then Quilleash, in a husky voice and coarsely, as if ashamed of the impulse, said, "Some one jiray, will you?"

Aye, said another. "Aye, said a third. But no one prayed. "You, Billy, "said one. The old man had never known a jirayer. "You, Davy." Davy shook his head. None could jiray.

All lay quiet as death around them. Only the faint sound of the, bells was borne to them as a mellow whisjjer.

Then Danny rose silently to his feet. No one had thought of asking him. With that longing look in his big eyes lie turned to the land and began to sing. He was thinking of Mona. All his soul was going out to her. She was his anchor, his hope, his prayer. Tho lad's voice, laden with tears, floated away over the great waters. This was what ho sang: 'Her brow is like the snawdrift,

Her neck is like the swan, Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on, That e'er the sun shone on.

"And she's a' the world to me, And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doon and dee." The boy's eyes were bright with a radiant brightness, and glistening tears ran down his face in gracious drops like dow. The men hung their heads and were mute.

All at once there came a breath of wind. At first it was as soft as an angel's whisper. Then it grew stronger and ruffled the sea. Every man lifted his eyes and looked at his mates. Each was struggling with a painful idea that perhaps he was the victim of a delusion of the sense. But the chill breath of tho wind was indeed among them. "Isn't it beginning to puff up from tho so'west?" asked one in a hoarse whisper.

At that Davy Cain jumped to his feet. The idea of tiio supernatural had already gone from him at least. "Now for the sheets and to make sail!" he cried.

As mate formerly, Davy constituted himself skipper now. One after one the men got up and bustled about. Their limbs wero well nigh frozen stiff.

Heave hearty, men 1 Heave and away!" All was stir and animation in an instant. Pulling at the ropes, the men had begun to laugh—yes, with their husky, grating, tear drowned voices even to laugh. "Bear a hand, men! We're drifting fast into the down stream to Contrary!" cried Davy

Then a grewsome sense of the ludicrous took hold of him. It was tho swift reaction from solemn thoughts. "Lay on, Quilleash, my man! Why, you're going about liko a brewing pan! What are your arms for, eh?"

The old fellow's eyes that had been dim with tears a moment ago glistened with grisly mischief. "Who hasn't heard that a Manxman's arms are three legs?" he said, with a hungry smile

How the men laughed 1 What humor there was now in the haggard old saw! "Where are you for. Davy?" cried one. "Scotland—Shetlands," answered Davy indefinitely. "Hooraal Bold fellow! Ha, ha, ha, he!" "I've been there before today, Davy," said Quilleash "They're all jioor men there, but it'-s right kind they are. Aw, yes, it's safe and well we'll be when we're there. What's it sayin? 'W'lien one poor man helps another poor man, God laughs.1''

How they worked! In two minutes mainsail and mizzen were up, and they filled away and stood out. But they had drifted into the down stream, though they knew it not as vet.

From the shores of deal 11 they had sailed somehow into tho waters of life. Hojie was theirs once more.

They began to talk of what had caused tho wind. "It was the blessed St. Patrick, said Killip. St Patrick was tho patron saint of that sea, and Killij) was a Catholic and more than half an Irishman. "St Patrick be"— cried Daw Cain, with a scornful laugh. They got to high words and at length almost to blows.

Old Quilleash had been at the tiller His grizzly lace had grown ghastly again. 'Drop it, men!" he cried in a voice of fear. "Look yander! ye seo what's comm.?"

The men looked toward the west. The long, thin cloud which Danny knew as the cat's tail was scudding last, in tho lino of their starboard quarter. "Make all snug!" cried Davy.

A storm was coming. It was very near In ten minutes it was upon them. It was a terrific tempest, and they knew now that they were in the down stream

The men stared once more into each other's faces Their quips wero gono their hopyful spirits had broken down. "God, it's runnin a ten knots' tide," shouted Quilleash. "And we're driving before it—dead 011 for Feel," answered Dav.v, with an apjialiing look ot fear toward tho west, where the wind was seen to bo churning tho long wav^s into roam.

Danny saw it all. but there was no ago» in his face and 110 cry of dread on his i'j)s 'I think at whiles I like to die in a I'l'j: sea like that. His despair was courage now

CHAPTER XIX

In the old house at Balladhoo three hearts nearly made glad had still one painful passage to experience. Itwasdnsk. Bv the fire stood Mvlrea Balladhoo, with Mona Crefrec.u seated beside him. Chris-

.%

tian nail stejipeii to tne uoor, mm now returning to the room wilh the stranger previously seen in his company lie said, with averted face, "This is lie man, father."

Balladhoo neither lifted his eyes to the newcomer nor shifted their gaze from the fire His frame trembled jierceptibly as he said, "1 know your business, sir, and it shall have my attention. The stranger glanced from father to son. They stood ajiart,, each unable to meet lho other's face Perhaps there is 110 more touching sight, ill nature, rightly regarded, than an old man, and to the pa.hos incident to age Balladhoo added the sorrow of a wretched *aud shattered hope. "May 1 ask if this deed was drawn by your authority?" said the stranger. He stepped up to'the old man and put the document into his listless hand. Balladhoo glanced down at it, but his poor blurred eyes saw nothing. "Yes." ho answered promptly enough, but in a husky voice. Christian's face quivered, and his head drojipeil on his breast. The stranger looked incredulous. "It is quite right if you say so," he answered, with a cold sjnilo.

Balladhoo lifted his face. It was seamed witli lines of pain and told of a terrible struggle. "I do say so," ho replied.

His fingers crumpled tho deed as he spoke, but his head was erect, and truth seemed to sit 011 his lips. Christian sat down and buried his eyes in his hand.

Tho stranger smiled again the same cold smile. "Tho mortgagcor wishes to withdraw tho mortgage," he said. "He may do so—in 15 days," answered Balladhoo. "That will suffice. It would bo cruel to prolong a jiainful interview."

Then, with a glance toward Christian, as he sat convulsed with distress that I10 was unable to conceal, the stranger added in a hard one: "Only the mortgagcor camo to havo reasons to think that pcrhajis the deed had been drawn without your knowledge."

Balladhoo handed back the document with a nerveless hand. He looked again through dim eyes at the stranger and said quietly, but with an awl'ul inward effort: "You have my answer. I knew of it."

The recording angel set, down the words in the book of life to the.'old man's credit in heaven. They were not true.

Tho stranger bowed low and retired. Christian leaped up and took his father by both hands, but his eyes were not raised to tho troubled face. "This is worse than all," I10 said, "but God knows everything. Ho will make me answer for it." "What is tho debt?" asked Balladhoo, with an effort to be calm. "Money squandered in England."

The old man shook his head with an impatient gesture. "I mean how much." "A thousand pounds." There was a pause. "Wo can meet, it," said Balladhoo, "and now, my sou, cheer up set your face tho right way, and his servant shall not be ashamed."

Christian strode up and down the room. His agitation was greater than before. "I feel less than a man," I10 said. "Oh, but a hidden sin is a mean thing, father—a dwarfing, petrifying, corroding, unmanly thing. Anil to think that. I could descend so low as to try to conceal it—a part of it— by consorting with a gang of lawless fellows—by a vulgar outrage that might have ended in death itself but that the hand of heaven interposed!" "You are not the first," answered Balladhoo, "who has descended from deceit to the margin of crime, but it isn't for me to judgo you. Read your misfortunes, my lad, as heaven writes them. Are they not warnings against the want of manliness? No, it's not. for me to say it, but if there's one thing truer than another it is that the world wants men. Clever fellows, good fellows, it litis ever had in abundance, but in all ages the world's great want has been men."

Balladhoo glauced down at Mona. Throughout this interview she had sat with eyes bent, 011 her lap. Tho old man touched the arm of his son and continued: "As for the hand of heaven, it. has worked through the hand of this dear, brave girl. You owe her your life, Christian, and so do I."

Then the young man, with eyes aflame, walked to Mona and lifted her in his arms. The girl looked very beautiful in her confusion, and while she sobbed on Christian's breast and Balladhoo looked on with wondering eyes Christian confessed everything how, In effect, Mona had been his wife for six years past, and little Ruby was their child.

It. was a staggering blow! But when tho surprise of it was past all was forgiven. "You love my boy?" said Balladhoo, turning to Mona.

The girl could not answer in words. She threw her arms around the old man's neck, and he kissed her. Then through the tears that had gathered in his blurred old eyes thero shot a merry gleam as he said above the girl's hidden face, "Oh, so I've got to be happy yet. I find."

There came the noise of peojjlo entering the house. In another moment Kerruish Kinvig had burst in with one of tho Castle Rushen men behind him. "Man.\manlike, he adog after the fair and away from Peel tonight, bawled Klimg, indicating the sub|eet of his inconsequent remarks bv a contemptuous lurch of Ills hand over his shoulder. "We staid too long 111 hiding," said the man, wit ha glance of self justifieat ion. "Of course shouted Kinvig. oblivious of the insinuation against. 1MS own leadershi|), "and who hasn't heard thai tin-crab that lies always in its bole is never fatv" "The lishrigboat is still at, sea, sir. It scarce likely thai the men will comeback to Peel.' said the man, addressing Balladhoo. "Who dmimed that tlicv would:'" cned Kim lg. "What black ever stamped on his own foot?" "We re trusting vou think we've done our best, sir,' continued the man, Ignoring the liilerrujjtions. "Kat.cn bread is quick forgot ten, shouted Kin\ What you ve done vou ve done, and there an end of it, anil it's not much cither, and if I were magistrate I'd ha\e the law 011 the lot of you for a jjack of lncomjietent loblolly boys. Wouldn't vou, Christian? "You have done your best," said Balladhoo, and the man left them. "As for you, Kcri-uish," he added, "if you'd had the ill luck to succeed, think what a sad dog you must havo been by this time. You would have had nothing to growl about."

Christian had walked to the window. "Harts," lie said, turning to Mona. "the wind is rising. What of those poor fellows outside?" The melancholy sough of the wind could be heard above tho low moan of the distant sea. Mona thought of Danny, and tho tears came again into her eyes.

It was time lor the girl to return home. Christian ptit on his hat to accomjtany her, and when limy left the house together he la ugh'-d. dejected though he was, at t.hn bewildered look on tJin f-ice: of K'IT-

ruisli Kinvig as he glanced in stupid silence from Balladhoo to them anil from them back to Balladhoo.

CHAPTER XX.

The night was dark, and the wind was chill outside, but light and warmt were in two hapjiy hearts. With arms entwined and clasped hands they walked down the familiar road, transfigured now into strange beauty at every step. When two souls first pour out their Hood of love, whatever the jircsent happiness, it is the unconscious sense of a glad future that I thrills them. It was the half conscious sense of a sad jiast. shared together that touched these two tonight. "I feel like another man," said Christian. "To have the weight, of these six years of disguise lifted away is a new birth." He seemed to breathe more freely. "How glad I am it is gone, this haunting secret," said Mona, with a sigh of relief. But suddenly afresh torment suggested itself. "What will peoplo say?" she aslicif. •'Don't think of that. Let peoplo say what they will. In these relations of life the world lias always covered its nakedness in the musty rags of its old conventions anil dubbed its clothes morality. Wo'll not, heed what peojile say, Mona." y'But. the child?" said tho girl, with some tremor of voice. Christian answered the half littered question. "Ruby is as much my daughter as Rachel was the daughter of Laban, and you uro even now as much my wife as she was the wife of icob."

Mona glanced up into his face. "Can this be, Christ ian?" sho thought. "Where one man sets himself apart for one woman,'" he continued, "there is true marriage, whether the mystic symbol of the church be used or not. No 1'vo feared tho world too long. I moan to fuco it now.'' "I'm afraid I don't understand, Christian," answered Mona. "But surely to defy the world is foolishness, and marriage is a- holy thing."

He stopped and, with a smile, kissed tho girl tenderly. "Never fear, darling, that shall be made .is the world wants it,. I was thinkingof the past, not tho future. Anil if ours was a sin it was 0110 of jiassion only, and wo whispered each other, did we not, that he who gave the love would forgive its transgression?" Then they walked on. In tho distance the hill above glowed red through the darkness. Danny's Contrary fire, which had smoldered all day, showed brightly again. "Oh, how glad I am that all is over!" repeated tho girl, creeping closer beneath Christian's arm. "You said tonight to your father that a secret sin is a corroding thing. How truly I've felt it so when I've thought of my own poor father. You never knew him. Ho died before you came to us. Ho was a good, simple man and loved us, though perhaps he left us poorer than wo might have been and more troubled than wo were in tho old days at Glen Rushen." "No, I never knew him, but the thought of him has stung 1110 to tho quick when I've seen his daughter working for daily bread. It has been then that I've felt myself the meanest of men." "Christian," continued Mona, regardless of tho interruption, "havo you eve* thought that tho dead aro links that connect us with tho living?" "How?" "Well, in this way. From our kin In heaven wo can havo no secrets, and when the living kin guess our hidden thought, our secret act,, perhaps it has been our dead kin who have whispered of it." "That is a strange fancy, Mona, an awful fancy. Few of us would dare to have secrets if we accepted it."

They were approaching the cottage and could hear a merry child's voice singing. "Listen," said Mona, and they stopped. Then the girl's head dropped. Tears wero again in her eyes. "She's been sorrow as well as happiness to you, my brave Mona," said Christian. And ho pnt "r anus about his neck.

The girl lifted her face to his in tho darkness. "That's true," sho said. "Ah, how often in the early days did I gaze into the face of my fatherless little one, and feel a touch of awe in the presence of the mute soul that lay behind tho sjieechless baby face, and wonder if some power above had told it something that its mother must needs hide from it, and if, when it spoke, it would reproach me with its own shame or pity me for mine."

Christian smoothed her hand tenderly. "If the child suffered," he said, "before her race of life began, let it.be mine henceforth to make it up to her with all that, love can yet do.'' "And when I heard its cry," said Mona, "its strange, pitiful cry as it awoke from that mystery, a baby's troubled dream, and looked into its red, star led eves and into its little face, all liquid grief, and said, 'It's only 11 dream, darling,' the thought has sometimes stolen up to my heart that perhaps some evil sjririt hail whispered to it the story of its shame, for what else hi:d it to cry about, so hiitrriy?"

Chr istian kissed her again, a greet gulp in his throat. "Yes,1' he y-id. "in the ryes of 1 en we mav have v.Ton-rod the r'•' il, but i!' the eternal w:rhl, when !ic--e !\-w painliil years t:v as a sjian. she will be our- indeed, ,. i'.l -.:! will not ask by right of what svinliol wo claim her

Tni'v had walked 10 the gate. "Wait," said Mona and ran toward the door.

Ch.-isiian thought sho had gone to prej.are her mot Iter. but. returning in an instant, and on iploe, wit lie h.•).(• of laughter struggling through hrr tear*, sho beckoned lnr to follow her wit ii *trailhy triad, ii-'ving t:j to the window, she took his hand and whispered, "Look1"

They were standing in 1 he darkness and cold, but the house wilhm was bright this winter night, it Ii one lit le human flower in bloom. Unity hail dressed the kit'-lien 111 hibbin and hollru and had scat'errd wheat)-ii flour o\ rr the red berries to resemble snow. She was standing near Mrs ("regcen's knee, being undressed for bed Her heart had leafed all oav at. the thought of a new hat which sho was to wear for the flrst time next, morning. This treasure had been hung on a peg over tho plates above the dresser, and at intervals more or-less frequent Ruby twisted about and cocked her eye up at it. It took a world of stolen glances to grow familiar with Hie infinite sjdendor of its bow and feather. While the threads and the buttons were being undone Ruby sang and gossiped. A well filled water crock had been sot on the table, and touchingthis the little one said: "Do the fairies bathe in winter'''" "bo they're saying, my veon," answered Mrs. Cregcen. "Can I see the fairies if I lio awake all night? I 111 not, a bit sleepy. Can I see them all 111 their lit tio velvet jackets—can I?" "No, no. Little girls must go to bed

There was a jiretty pretense at disappointment, in the downward curve of the 111). The world had 110 real sorrow for tho owner ot that marvelous hat,. The next Instant the child sing

"I redo yo beware of the Currasdoo 111111 •.:'• As ye come up the wold. iiv 1 redo ye beware of the haunted

Ruby interrupted her song to wriggle out of Mrs. ('ivgoen's hands, julill oil' her stocking and hang it on one of the knobs of the dresser. "1 hope it will be tho Phynuoddei'i'o that comes tonight," sho said. 'i'&ki •:•••:•. "Whv tli.it one?" said Mrs. Ore'geen, smiling.

Because Danny says that's 1 lie fairy that loves little Manx girls." Danny shouldn't tell you such foolish old stories." ..-IiSB'i••••£'•' '-r-:--"Are they stories?" .. "Yes." "Oh!"

Another sly glance at tho wonderful hnt on the peg behind. That, was a reality at all events. "But, I'm sure a good fairy will come for me tonight.," insisted Ruby. "Why are you sure, Ruby, veg?" "Berause—because I am."

Chrk-itian tightened his grasp of Mona's hand. At that, moment a gust of wind passed IOUIIU 1 UR nouse. :iiouit miiionioc.rcu T.naC tonight, she was standing with Christian on the sjiot, where last night she had parted with Danny. "Listen," said Mrs.Cregcen to tho child. "Pity the poor sailors at sea." "Didn't Mona say Danny was at sea?" "Yes, she was saving so."

Then tho little one sang: "In .Torby Ourrnuh tlioy dwell alone By dark peat. lio^s where the willows moan, Down in 11 gloomy and lonely glen"—

"Mammy, had Danny any father?" "Everybody had a father, my vcen." "Had Ruby a, father?" "11 ush, Kuhy, veg!" Mona's hand unconsciously pressed tho hand of Christian. "Oh," she muttered and crept, closer to bis breast,. Christian's bowels yearned for the child.

The silvery voice was singing again: "Who has lint heard of Adair, the youth? Who does not. know that, his soul was truth? Woe is 1110! iinw smoothly they speak, 3 And Adair was brave, and a man, but weak."

"lam quite sure a good fairy is coming," said Ruby, cocking her eye aslant at that jieg oil the dresser.

Christian could bear it 110 longer. Ho flung open the door and snatched up tho darling in his arms.

An hour later I10 anil Mona camo out again into the night, leaving the littio ouo, with laughing, wondering, wakeful eves, in bed, and Mrs. Cregeen sitting before the lire with something liko hajijiiness in her usually mournful face.

Laughing at the rejoinder, Christ,ian and Mona went, by the church, and reaching the quay I hey crossed the bridge at, the top of the harbor Then, hand in hand, they walked order the Horse hill, and without thinking what direction they took they turned up tin path that led toward the cottage in tho old quarry.

Half the hillside seemed to be ablaze. Danny's fire over the Poolvash had sjircad north by many hundred yards. The wind was now bh wing strongly from the sea and fanned it into flame. The castle could bo seen by its light from the black rocks fringed about, with foam to the top of Fennella's tower.

When they came abreast of the cottage, they saw that a dim light burned in one window. They stepped up and looked into the house. On a bod, covered by a white sheet, lay all that ren-iined of'Kisseek. An old woman, set to watch tho body, sat knitting beside It.

The deep roar of the sea was all that could be heard there above tho moan of the wind.

(TO UK CONTI.NUK.n.)

HKKK AXDTIIKItK,

Mi^s Bird Buck is visiting in Linden this week. V\ hat is tlie matter with Liberty Mali scribe

Mn»s Lida Vanscnyoc visited home folks Sunday. Albert Mvers ina.f* a Hying vi.-,it to Boone Saturday ni'j-lit-he social at Mr. Patterson was postponed on account of sickness.

Miss Ol lie Hi pes visited Miss Rosa Crain Saturday night, and .Sunday. James Yariscoyoe visited friends and relatives 111 this vicinity last week.

It is rumored that there will be a wed ling soon, but don't tell Arthur N!I-S Nellie II ipes visited Miss Irene Ed wards Saturday night and Sunday,

Mis Ethel and Isolome Powell S1111dayed wj.th.Miss Cora and Stella Vati-, )C

Preaching at Walnut ehajie! Saturday night. Sunday and Sunday night liev. Gott.

1 IlLJX I,It III H,

fit

They, took the road toward tho town A They had no errand there, but tho rest less, tumultuous joy of this night would not leave them a mvrment's peace.

As they passed through the market phico tlioy saw that, tho church windows wero lit up. Tho bells wero ringing. Numbers of young people wero thronging in at ho gates. But tho parson was coming out of tliom. There was 110 pleasant expression on his face as ho beheld tho throngs that sought admission. It was Oiel Verrce, the eve of Mary. Tho bells were ringing for tho only service in the year at which not the parson but the parishioners jirosided. It was an old Manx custom, that after prayers 011 Christmas eve tho church should be given up to tho people for the singing of their native carols. Prayers wero now over, and on his way through the market plitce tho parson encountered Tommy-Bill-beg among the others who were walking toward the church. Ho stopped the harbor master and said, "Mind you seo that all is dono in decency and order, and that you close my church before midnight,." "Aw, but the church is the people's. I'm thinkin," said Tonimy-Bill-beg, with a dcprccatlng shako of his bead. "The people aro as ignorant as goats," said the parson angrily. "Aw, well and you're tho shepherd so just make shecjis of them," answered Tommy, and passed on.

•lames Hunter threshed clover seed omluy.

.Miss Minnie Stonebraker spent Sunday with home folks. laud Ifarp and Miss Mamie Long went to the .Shades Sunday

Quite a number from here attended .-e 1 vices at Balhiuch Sunday. Thomas Harp and daughters Edna and Carrie visited Win. Harp and family Sunday.

Jacob Elmore and family hanusomely entertained a number of vontig folks a* their home Satuiday night.

FOK sale bills see Tuu .JOUIS.N'AI. Co Piu.MKNA