Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 57, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 March 1916 — THE FRATERNAL HEART [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE FRATERNAL HEART

By VICTOR REDCLIFFE.

“Yea, all the fools in the world are not dead yet.” —«, “And the man you were telling about who lived In yonder house was one of them?” “Exactly. Mark Paxton. He’s out of It now, they tell. No wonder. No tramp ever went to hla door unrewarded. If a poor family in town couldn’t pay their rent, Paxton came to the rescue. He simply gave away all that he had.” "And now?” , “On the road to the poorhouse. About a year ago he took in a likely young fellow in hard luck. The ingrate got up in the night, robbed him of his last thousand dollars and eloped.” . —*—i—“Well, we’ve pretty nigh got his double down at Hamilton, where I live. Only it’s a woman. She is a Miss Lesbis Tresham, a young old maid. Thinks she was put in the world to help everybody that came along. Pretty nearly as bad off now as this Mark Paxton of yours.” And then the two strollers discussing the situation moved away, and from behind a hedge where he had been resting Mark Paxton sat up and looked reflective. "That’s the way I look to the world, eh?” he soliloquized, “ —a fool! All right, I’m glad I’ve had my run. Poor, worse off than they think —not quite the almshouse, though, for I know how to work. I’ve mad# some happier out of the crowd I’ve fed and housed and given money to. I have distributed

the gifts Providence sent me, I didn’t quite expect this end, but why worry? My heart is clean and peaceful as that of a boy and I’m glad I’ve been a—fool.” Mark Paxton was leaving the old house, for it had been seized on a mortgage. He was leaving town, because he had sadly learned that those whom he had benefited in the past had no gratitude in the present. He had never been an idle man, even if he had done more pottering about the place than steady work. He knew he was handy and willing though, and he doubted not that he would be able to earn a living. Not for a moment *did ftferk Paxton bewail his fate. He owed no man a dollar and was content. He did not regret his past benefactions to others. It warmed his heart still to recall the weak and helpless, aided at least a little along their hard road of life. They had forgotten him? Well, that was human nature— ; lu the main good, he decided. “The stranger spoke of another fool. Just like me,” ruminated Mark- “A woman after my own heart, I’m thinking. I'd like to know her.” He remembered the name Lesbis Tresham. He knew that she lived “down Hamilton way." Hamilton was fifty miles distant, far enough away to serve as a trial point for work without intruding gossips dishing out his erstwhile “foolishness.” “I’ll try Hamilton, anyway,” decided

Mark and thitherward bent his way. "Why, I’m getting looney, I do believe!" he added with a faint smile. “I can’t get this Miss Tresham oat of my mind. You’d think I was some loverlprn simpleton doting over a Sweetheart, the way I keep feeling somehow, as if, being a friend to all humanity, as they say she is, Bhe must be a friend to me.” Mark was not analyst enough tq comprehend that the thought of Miss Tresham stayed because he had no settled plans in his mind, and one definite point focused it and held it steadfast At all events Mark reached Hamilton. Then rather sheepishly, though cautiously, he began to make inquiries concerning Miss Tresham. It was pleasing entertainment to have some object in view. He learned that she had the life tenure of a house and A little patch of ground on the edge of the town. This Mark located. Its owner he had heard a dozen times had impoverished herself with her illadvised generosity. Mark noticed a woman in a sun bonnet trimming some rose bushes. He trembled, and h 6

flushed, too, as he entered the garden and approached her. "Miss Tresham?” he inquired siumblingly, “I—I—" There he paused. There was turned towards him the sweet lovely face that the sonbonnet had hidden. Fathomless eyes looked into his own kindly, encouragingly, true blue eyes, the expression of which he never forgot. She smiled indulgently as he faltered on: ‘jl am a poor man, no work. I understand gardening. There’s that little patch behind the house —potatoes, peas, winter’s vegetables. I —l —would work for board and lodging.” “Why, you are welcome to that much, if you need It," spoke the lady brightly. "There is a very comfortable furnished room over the Btable and as to the meals —they are plain —” “I’m a plain man,” answered Mark eagerly and unmistakably. So it was arranged. "Snuggled right down into a nest of rare comfort,” Mark put it. He loved his work. He loved bis pretty quarters over the stable. Alas! he finally thought of tearing himself away, for he loved Miss Tresham, too! As to the lady, she discovered traits in his character that soon interested her. One day she came across him tenderly restoring a wounded robin to Its nest. Then she learned of his sitting up all night with the dying head of a poor family in town. Then she found who he really was. The hero! —the first man she had yet met who, sharing her love for fellow human creatures, had devoted his life and his fortune towards doing them good! At the end of a month, one lovely afternoon, Mark Paxton, grave of face but with set resolute lips came to her as she sat on the porch sewing. “Miss Tresham,” he said, “I am going away.” She regarded him sadly. She flushed as she met his steady glance. Then she said softly: “Yes, I think it is better that you should^-’ What was it he read in her words and manner that thrilled him! “We are so poor,” she quavered, and bent her face to conceal the tears. “You cannot accept any more burdens, but—you are the grandest man I ever knew!” She grasped both of his hands warmly. He saw lovelight brimming over in those lovely eyes and understood. She ran into the house, crying. “Hello, I’ve found you!” shouted a sudden voice, and in amazement Mark turned to face an intruder. He stared hard. “Why,” he observed, “you are the man who stole my thousand dollarstwo years ago!” “Better than that!” chuckled the man —“the reformed man who robbed you. A measly act, wasn’t it, after all your kindness to me?” “I hope the money did you some good—” “It didn’t,” was the blunt reply, “for I squandered it. But when I got sober and decent again, I never ceased to feel ashamed. I went West and became a miner. I worked hard and 1 struck luck. All along I thought of my mean act. I’ve come to give you back your thousand dollars ten times over. You good, grand man —I'll never forget you!” And, "called a grand, good man” twice within as this strange visitor departed after counting out ten thousand dollars in cash, Mark Paxton took heart of hope. He went into the house and laid love and fortune at the feet .of the woman he adored. He CEiine out of it, his arm around her waist, and her eyes devotedly devouring his rapturous glance. (Copyright. 1916. by W. G. Chapman.)

He Loved His Work.