Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 123, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 May 1915 — Page 2

Dark Hollow

By Anna Katharine Green

Dkistfediorvs (S& C. D. 13rodes COPYRIGHT 1014- AT DCCEtAtEriD CQWHNif

SYNOPftia. A cutout crowd of neighbor* torodt Mho mysterious horn* of Judg* Ootrandor. eotinty Judx* ut ooooatrto rsduM. following a vailed woman who hoogalnad •ntranca through tha «atoo of A* high double barriers surrounding tho Pl*c*jft»s woman haa disappeared but the Judas la found In a cataleptic stata Bela. Mo servant. appears In a dying condition and prevents entrance to a secret door. Bela tSoa The Judg* awakoa Weeks (explains to him what baa occurred during bis seizure. Ho eecreUy dlecovero the ♦whereabouts of tho veiled woman. Bhe mrovoo to ha tho widow of a pan trUd before tho Judn and electrocuted for marker years before. Her daughter 1* anigsgra to tha Judge's non. from whom halo •atranged, hut tha muidar la hatwuan tha wfin : —»——r —| CHAPTER IV—Continued. Bat aha would not be denied. She Throat it upon him and once his eyes had fallen np It, they clung there. Though evidently agatnet hia will. Ah, ahe knew that Reuther'a exquisite’ countenance would plead for itself 1 Ood seldom grants to such beauty eo lovely a spirit. It tha features themselves failed to appeal, certainly he meet feel the charm of an expression which had already netted eo many hearts. Breathlessly aha watched him, and, ae she watched, she noted the heavy lines carved In his face by thought and possibly by sorrow, slowly relax and his ayes fill with a< wistful tenderness. “Parent* must learn to endure bitterness. I have not been exempt myself from such. Tour child will not 41s. Ton have years of mutual companionship before you, while I have nothing. And now let us end this Interview, eo painful to us both. You have said—“ “No," she broke In with sudden vehemence, all the more startling from A 6 restraint In which she had held herself up to this moment, “I have not said —I have not begun to say what seethes like a consuming fire In my breast. I spoke of a miracle —will you not listen, judgeT lam not wild; I am not unconscious of presumption. I am only In earnest. In deadly earnest. A miracle Is possible. The gulf between these two may yet he spanned. I see a way—” What change was this to which she had suddenly become witness? The face which had not lost all its underlying ben ig nancy even when it looked Ita coldest, had now become settled and hard. Hia manner was absolutely repellent as he broke In with the quick disclaimer: “But there Is no way. What miracle could ever make your daughter, lovely as she, undoubtedly la, a fitting match for my eon! Ndne, madam, absolutely none. Such an alliance would he monstrous; unnatural.” “Why?" The word came out boldly. "Because her father died the death es a criminal?" The answer was equally blunt. “Yes; s criminal over whose trial hie father presided as judge." ... Quick as a flash, however, came the retort. “A judge, however, who showed him every consideration possible. I was told st the time and I have been assured by many since that you were more than just to him in your rulings. Judge Ostrander” —he had taken a step toward the hall"door; hut he paused at this utterance of his name—"answer me this one question. Why did you do this? You must have hated him deeply—your feeling for Mr. Etheridge was well known. Then why such magnanimity toward the man who stood on trial for killing him?" Unaccustomed to be questioned, thnugh living in an atmosphere of continual yes and no, he stared at the veiled features of one who so dared, aa If he found It hard to excuse such presumption. But he answered her nevlerthelesa, and with decided emphasis: “Possibly because his victim was my friend and lifelong companion. A jjndge fears hts own prejudice*." “Possibly; hut you had another reason, judge; s reason which justified yon In your own eyes at the time and *wMeh justifies you in mine now and Always. Am I not right? This is no courtroom; the case la one of the past; tt can never be reopened; the prisoner Is dead. Answer met then, as ons I sorrowing mortal replies to another, hadn't you another reason?" His judge, panoplied though he was jor thought he was. against all conceivable attack, winced at this repetition imt a question he had hoped to Ignore, tend In his anxiety to hide this involuntary betrayal of weakness allowed hia lunger to have full vent, aa he cried oat «ln no measured terms: "What is the meaning of all this? ’What are you after? Why are you raking up these bygones, which only »»hii the presont condition of affairs darker and more hopeless? Oliver (Ostrander, under no circumstances land by it— «"■ of no sophistries, can fevur marry the daughter of John Bcorffla. I should think you would see tn a. m m ’ MW IwDWwVis sty.- ' /fr -' i i 1 — T " ! c~ ~~ . v v

“Madam, your hopes and wishes have misled yon. Your husband was a guilty man; aa guilty a man aa any judge ever passed sentenoe upon." “But he swore tha day I last visited him In the prison, with his arm* pressed tight shout ms and hie eye looking straight Into mine ae you are looking now, that he never struck that blow, I did not believe him then; there were too many dark spots in my memory of old lies premeditated and destructive of my happiness; hut I believed him later, and I believe him aow." “Madam, this Is quite unprofitable. A jury of his peers condemned him as guilty and the law compelled me to pass sentence upon him. Hie Inevitable must bs accepted. I have said my last word." “But not heard mine,” she panted. “For me to acknowledge the Inevitable where my daughter's life and happiness are concerned would make me seem a coward in my own eyes. Helped or unhelped, with the sympathy or without the sympathy of one who 1 looped would show himself my friend, 1 shall proceed with the task to which I have dedicated myself. You will forgive me, judge. You see that John’s last declaration of Innocence goes further with me than your belief, backed as it ta by the full weight of the law.” Gazing at her as at ons gone suddenly demented, he said: *T fall to understand you, Mrs. —I will call you Mrs. AjerilL You speak of a task. What task?” “The only one I have a heart so the proving that Reuther Is not the child of a willful murderer; that another man did the deed for which he Buffered. 1 can do It. I feel confident that I can do It; and If you will not help me —" “Help you! After what I have said and reiterated that he la guilty, guilty, guilty?” Advancing upon her with each repstlon of the word, he towered before her, an imposing, almost formidable figure. She fdfeed again hia anger, which ! might well be righteous, and with almost preternatural insight boldly declared: “You are too vehement to quite convince me, Judge Ostrander. Acknowledge It or not, there la more doubt than certainty In your mind; a doubt which ultimately will lead you to help me. Then my way should broaden — a way. at the end of which I see a united couple—my daughter and your son. Oh, she Is worthy of him,” the woman broke forth, as he made another repellent and Imperative gesture, “ask anyone In the town where we have lived." Abruptly and without apology for hia rudeness. Judge Ostrander turned his back, then with a quick whirl about which brought him face to face with her once more, he Impetuously asked: “Madam, you were In my house this morning. You came In through the gate which Bela had left unlocked. Will you explain how you came to do this? Did you know that he was going down street, leaving the way open behind him? Was there collusion between you?" Her eyes looked clearly Into hia. She felt that ahe had nothing to disguise or conceal.. “I had urged him to do this. Judge Ostrander. I had met him more than once in the street when he went out to do your errands, and I used all my persuasion to Induce him to give me tills one opportunity of pleading my cause with you. He was your devoted servant, he showed It in his death, but he never got over his Affection for Oliver. I had listened to what folks said. I had heard that you would receive nobody; talk to nobody. Bela was my only resource." He was scrutinizing her keenly, and for the first time Whatever her station, past or present, she was certainly no ordinary woman, nor was her face without beauty, lit as It was by passion and every ardor of which a loving woman la capable. No man would be likely to resist It unless his armor were thrice forged. Would he himself be aide to? He began to experience a cold fear—a dread which drew a black veil over tha future; a blacker veil than that which had hitherto rested upon It But his face showed nothing. He proceeded, with a piercing Intensity not to be withstood: ----- “When you entered my house this morning did you come directly to aay room?" "Yes. Bels told mu just how to reach tt" "And when you saw mu indisposed—unable, in fact to greet you what did you do then?" With the force and meaning 6f one who. takes an oath, she brought her hand, palm downward on the table before her, as Ae steadily replied: T Hew back, Into the room through which I had coma; undecided whether to fly the house or .watt for what might happen to you. I did not dare to go tin Bela came back. So I stayed Me room. I mover *sft it tm the ■ • . ' ; r. *.. e. -w. mf<*

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. INP.

crowd earns in. Then I end cut he-' them." -Was the child with you—at your rifle I mean, all this timer "I never let go her hand.” "Woman, you are keeping nothing baekr "Nothing hut my terror at the sight of Bela nrtming in all bloody to escape the people pressing after him." Sincerity was in her manner and in her voice. The judge breathed mote easily, and made the remade: "No one with hearing unimpaired can realise the suspicion of the deaf, nor anyone who la not subject to like mine oonceive the doubts with which a man so cursed views those who have been active about him while the world to him was blank." Thus he dismissed the present subject, to surprise her by a renewal of the old one. “What are your reasons.” said be, "for the hopes you have just expressed? I think It your duty to tell me before we go any further. “Excuse a-ms for tonight. What I have to tell—or rather, what I have to show you—require* daylight" Thou,

He Was Scrutinizing Her Keenly.

as she became oonsclous of his astonishment, added falterlngly: “Have you any objection to meeting me tomorrow on the bluff overlooking Dark—” The judge was looking at her; he had not moved; nor had an eyelash stirred, but the rest of that sentenoe had stuck in her throat, and she found herself standing as immovably quiet as he. “Why there?” he asked. “Because” —her words came slowly, haltingly, as she tremulously, almost fearfully, felt her way with him —“because —there —is —no other place —where —l can made—-my point.” He smiled. It was his first smile in years and naturally was a littlb constrained —and, to her eyes at least, almost more terrifying than his frown. “Why have you waited till now?” he called out, forgetful that they wore not alone in the house, forgetful, apparently, of everything but his surprise and repulsion. “Why not have made use of this point before It was too late? You were at your husband's trial; you were even on the witness stand?”

She nodded, thoroughly cowed at last both by his indignation and the revelation contained tn this question of the judicial mind—“ Why now, when the time was then?" Happily, she had an answer. “Judge Ostrander, I had a reason for that, too; and, like my point, It is a good one. But do not ask me tor It tonight. Tomorrow I will tell you everything. But It will have to be In the place I have mentioned. Will you come to the bluff where the ruins are one-half hour before sunset? Please be exact as to the time. You will see why, If yon come.” Ho leaned across tho table—they were on opposite sides of It—plunging .hia eyes into hen. then drew back, and remarked with an aspect of gloom but with much less the appearance of distrust:

"▲ very odd request, madam. I hope you have good reason for It;" adding, "I bury Bela tomorrow and the cemetery Is In this direction. I will meet you where you say and at the hour you name.' And, regarding him closely as he spoke, Ae saw that for all tha correctness of his manner and the bow of respectful oourtesy with which he Instantly withdrew, that deep would be hia anger and unquestionable the results to her If Ae failed to satisfy him at this meeting of the value of her point In reawakening justice and changing public opinion.

CHAPTER V. yw . _ _ toarr-- - — k* - One of Ae lodgers at Ae Claymore ton had great cause for complaint the next morning. ▲ restless tramping over hia head had kept him awake A night That tt waatotermitteat had made It all Ae more Intolerable. Just when he Aought It had stopped tt would atari up again—to and trow ,to and fro, as regular as clockwork and much more disturbing. But the eomplaint never renAed Mrs. Averin. Tfeo landlady hod been mottoes kamaiC. Indeed, Ae night hadhean one es thought andtoeUag 1 - ~ «.■ 11 -■ -- 3•— ■

understand; flirt Mrs, A vorill'B thought—we should do W«B lO follow. ;; r "i The one treat question which had agitated her was this: Should she trust the Judge 7 Brer since the discovery which had changed Reuther’s prospects she had Instinctively looked to this one source for aid and sympathy. But her faith had been sorely shaken In the interview just related. He was not the friend she had hoped to find. He had Insisted upon her husband’s guilt, and he had remained unmoved, or but very little moved, by the disappointment of his son—his only remaining link to Ufa Judge Ostrander might seem odd—both manner and temper would naturally be much affected by his unique and solitary mode of life—but at heart he must love Oliver. It wae not In nature for It to be otherwlsa And yet— It was at this point In her musing that there came one of the breaks in her restless pacing. She was always of an Impulsive temperament, and always giving way to It. Sitting down before paper and ink. she wrote the following lines: Uy Darling If Unhappy Child: I know that this sudden Journey on mr part must strike you as, cruel, when. If ever, you need your mother’s presence end care. But the love I feel for you. my Reuther, Is deep enough to cause you momentary pain for the sake of the great good 1 hope to bring you out of this shadowy quest: I believe, what I said to Jou on leaving, that a great injustice was one your father. Feeling so. shall I remain quiescent and see youth and love slip from you. without any effort on my part to set this matter straight? I cannot. I have done you the wrong of silence when knowledge would have saved you shock and bitter disillusions but I will not add to my fault the Inertia of a cowardly soul. Have patience with me. then: and continue to cherish those treasures of truth and affection which you may one day feel free to bestow once more uppn one who has a right to each and all of them. __ This is your mother’s prayer.—DEBORAH BCOVUXE. It was not easy for her to sign herself thus. It was a name which she had tried her best to forget for twelve long, preoccupied years. But her purpose had been accomplished, or would be when once this letter reached Reuther. With these words In declaration against her she could not retreat from the stand she had therein taken. £he recommenced that rapid walking to and fro which was working such havoc In the nervea of the man In the room below her. When she paused It was to ransack a trank and bring out a flat wallet filled with newspaper clippings, many of them discolored by time, and all of them showing marks of frequent handling. The first was black with old headlines: (TO BE CONTINUED.)

NONSENSE TO STAY IN RUT

Ability to “Rise” In Life Is More er Less Present In Every Human Being. In every business there are many who know nothing about their possibilities. They live humdrum lives, plodding along In the same old ruta from day to day, but in a business sense they are practically dead Ad finish their business careers wiAont waking up—Aey Just exist. They see a occasional man rjs® up from Ae mass on Ae wings of fortune or fame. He is a nine-day wonder, Ad Aen Ae rest of Ae community settle down again and wait for something to “turn up” for them. The hidden forces tor rising out of Ae ruts are to be found In all “ordinary” folk. All Aat Is needed to put those forces to work is an awakening—a realization Aat great effort is behind great accomplishments. Fame and fortune do not come unhidden. They come only by reaching out Ad grasping Asm as Aey pass by. The man who is satisfied wiA things as Aey are, will never rise above his fellows, but Ae man who reaches out and grasps every opportunity Is Ae man upon whom good luA will smile. ' .

The hidden power Is In you, all right, and Aere it will stay until you wake up Ad go out to Ae world Ad make yourself known. Modesty may be a virtue, but merit Aat vaunts Itself occasionally la Ae kind that brings home this money to Ae wife Ad children.

Looking to the Future.

We are to consider that nations like Rome, France, Austria, Russia, Great Britain, hare gone forward* by the TniiiAnntwm—the thousand years. We hare not yet grown into our name. We are a nation in our small cloth ea. America! It is already—(dating from 1898) —something bigger than the United States, tWe are even more fortunate than Rome, for if It be nature’s Intent to widemour hire, and if it would in any way conciliate the In-dlan-Spanlsh and Indian-Portuguese of the South, we could wisely and without humiliation abandon our’shipdark Vespucius and accept our captain’s name of Columbia for our huge portion of the western world. Columbia may become the gem of the oceans. Six seas may lap her beaches. —John McGovern, in National Magazine.

Famous Products of Cyprus.

Cyprus gave its name to the metal copper. For it was from this island ♦i«t the got their supplies of the metal, which they knew as “Cyprium ass,- or. for short. “Cyprium,” in late Latin -cuprum.- Another famous product of the island was s tree —not the cypress, which has nothing to do with Cypres, bat the "cypres,” from which s valuable ea was mads. But it la better worth remembering as

Among the Tent Dwellers

IN HIS travels through Asiatic Russia, the land of Cqpsack and Kirghiz, Stephen Graham found much of interest, and In Country Life he thus tells some of his experiences : I Issued forth from Kopal on a broad moorland road, and after several hours’ upland tramping came to the Cossack village of Arazan —a typical willow-shaded settlement with irrigation streamlets rushing along the channels between the roadway and the cottages. In the pleasant coolness of five o’clock sunshine I passed out at the other end of the only street of the village and climbed up into the hills beyond. I turned a tains, descended by little green gorges into strange valleys and climbed out of them, to high ridges and cold, windswept heights. All about me grew desolate and rugged. It was touching to look back at the little collection of homes I had left —the compact little island of trees In the ocean of moorland below me and behind me —and to loi>k forward to the pass where all seemed dreadful and forbidding in front of me. In such a view I spread my-bed and slept

Next morning, with great difficulty I collected roots and withered grass enough to boil a pot and make my morning tea. While sitting there, the large raindrops came, and. they made deep black spots in the dust of the road, the lightning flashed across my knife, the thunder rplled bowlders about the mountains and I sped to a cave to avoid a drenching shower. In a Celebrated District.

I was in a somewhat celebrated district.' The Pass and Gorge of Abakum are among the sights of Seven Rivers land and are visited by Russian holi-day-makers and picnickers. All the rocks are scrawled with the names of bygone visitors, and by that fact alone you know the place has a name and is accounted beautiful. When the rain ceased and I ventured out of the cave again I saw a Russian at work writing his name. He had a stick dipped in the pitch with which the axles of his cart were oiled, and the wheels of the cart were nearly off for him to get it. For the first time I saw how these Intensely black scrawls were written on the rocks.

It was a pleasant noontide along the narrow road between crumbling indigo rocks and heaped debris. The stony slopes were rain-washed, the air fresh, and all along the way were dwarf rose bushes, very thorny hut covered with scores of bright yellow blossoms on little red stems. The jagged highway climbed again high up—to the sky, and gave me a Vision of a new land, the vast dead plain of Northern Semiretchie and of Southern Siberia. Northward to the horizon lay deserts, salt marshes and vast lakes with uninhabited shores, withered moors and wilted lowlands.

From that height, which was evidently the famous pass, I descended into-the pretty gorge of Abakum. The road was steep and narrow, the cliffs on each side sheer. A little foaming stream runs down from the cliffs, over rubbish heaps of rocks, and accompanies tbe highways in an artificially devised channel. A strange gateway has been formed in s thin partition of rock, and through this runs the stream below and the telegraph wire overhead —there is a footway, but carts are 'obliged to make a detour. At this gateway I saw the first intimation of Siberia and a reflection of the American spirit. Commercial travelers had scrawled: BUY PROVODNIK GALOSHES AT OMSK and BUY INDIAN TEA AND GET RICH. On the Road to Sarkand.

It Is a green and joyous road from Ahnfcutn eastward to. Sarkand, keeping to the mountain slopes and not faring forth upon the scorched plain that lies away northward. I did not repent that the cross-roads tempted me to go eastward hugging the mountains. Long green grass waved on each side of the* road, and in the grass blue larkspur and immense yellow hollyhocks. I was in the land where the Kirghis has his summer pasture, and often I came upon whole clans that had just pitched their tents. It was a many-colored picture of camels, bulls and horses, of sheep swarming among children, of kittens playing with one another's tails, of tents whose frame-work only was as yet put up, of heaps of felt carpet on tbe grass, of old wooden chests and antediluvian pots and jugs of sagging leather lying promiscuously to

IN THE OPEN BAZAAR

made. Qn this road the Chinese jugglers overtook me and camped very near where I slept one night. I was amused to see the old conjurer who had juggled the steaming samovaf put of thin air hunting mournfully for bita of wood and roots to make that same samovar boil in real earnest. Next day I came to the village of Jaiman Terekti and its remarkable scenery. The River.Baskau flows between extraordinary banks, great bare rocks all squared and architectural in appearance giving the impression r Immense ancient fortresses over the stream. These squared and shelved rocks are characteristic of the countryside and the geological formations, and they give much grandeur to what otherwise are quiet comers. Among the Cossacks. Lepsinsk is what the Russians call a medvezhy ugolok, a bear’s corner, a place where in winter the wolves

roam the main streets as if they did not distinguish it from their peculiar haunts. It is by post road 945 miles from Tashkent on the one hand and 1,040 miles frdm Omsk on the other — roughly, 1,000 miles from a railway station. It is high up. on the mountains on the Mongolian frontier, and lives a life of its own—almost completely unaware of what is happening in Russia and in Europe —a window on to Mongolia, a local wit has called It—a ground-glass window. Lepsinsk is a Cossack settlement. All the young men are horsemen, have to serve their term dn war and are liable to military service without any .exemption or exception. All Cossack families and Cossack villages are brought up on these terms. The children ride bareback as soon as they can walk and jump. The little boys get their elder brothers’ uniforms cut down to wear. I spent many hours with the Cossacks in the Lepsa valley," calling at cottages for food. A feckless folk you would call them, by the sight of their homes. The women dre very lazy and go to sleep after dinner, leaving all the dirty dishes on the table for 50,000 flies to fluster around.

Next day I went deep into the desert, into a land of snakes, eagles, snipe and lizards. I got-my noonday meal of koumiss in a Kirghiz yurt, borrowed a horse with which to get across the difficult fords, one of black, reed-grown mud, the other of swiftflowing water. All day I plowed through ankle-deep sand, and but for the fact that the sun was obscured by clouds I should have suffered much from heat As it was, the duet and sand-laden wind was very trying. Early in the. evening I resolved to stop for the day, and found shelter in one of twenty tents air pitched beside one another in a pleasant green pasture land which lay between two'bends of the river—a veritable oasis. : It was a good resting place. An old man spread for me carpets and rugs and bade me sleep, and I lay down for an hour. In the meantime tea was made for me from some chips of Mongolian brick tea. The old Kirghis took a black block of *his solidified tea dust and cut it with an old razor. After tea I went out and sat on a mound among the cattle, and watched the children drive in sheep and goats and cows, and the wives milk them

KIRGHIZ GRANDMOTHER