Jasper County Democrat, Volume 12, Number 93, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 March 1910 — PAID IN FULL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

PAID IN FULL

Novelized From Eugene Waiter’s Great Play

...By... JOHN W. HARDING

by G. W.DillinjhtmCe. CHAPTER XXIII. JRUTUMN, chilly and wet, had An brought sojourners In the £ country early to town, anjong them Mrs. Harris and her daughters. Mrs. Harris had requisitioned Jlmsy Smith’s services before ■he descended from the mountains. There was a lot to do on their arrival. Would he mind attending to this and that for them, and would be meet them? Jlmsy duly attended to this and that, met them in his old genial way. saw them Installed In their home, dined with them, as per Mrs. Harris' schedule—and, although the winter was well advanced, had never been there ilnce, except to make a brief call at Christmas. At each of these visits Emma had thrilled at sight of him and at the sound of his voice, it was with timidity that she had extended her hand to him, but neither by pressure of his clasp nor by any sign of manner, expression or intonation had he given indication of remembrance that their secret was known to each other. lie was the same quiet, kindly unchangeable Jlmsy. By her alone was his prolonged absence understood. Mrs. Harris and Beth finally attributed It to a reluctance to meet continually on an equal footing his employer, Captain Williams, who had taken Jlmsy’s place as extra member of the family and Usurped all his prerogatives. To Emma the captain was no longer an object of fear and detestation. She knew that bis affection was purely paternal, and he knew that she understood him as no one dead or living ever had or did. She manifested her appreciation of his regard by a confidence which was to the old fellow a comfort and huge delight. Not that his delight took a demonstrative form; that was not in his nature, and Emma would have been greatly astonished could she have known what a boon to him her frank friendliness was. The fact was that his good deed to Emma had been the first striking effect of a softening process that had been going on very, very slowly, so ■lowly as not to be noticeable to any extent, for several years, which began when he had been admitted to ths family circle of his late general manager and with which, all unconsciously, Emma had had a good deal to do. He had anchored himself to the family as his one connection with refinement and home life. But it had been a cautious anchoring, maintained with distrust and carrying with it no reciprocity In the shape of business or any other favors. A fighter who bad got nothing out of existence without lighting, ever on the alert to forestall an expected treacherous blow, his hand had flown to his hip pocket, 90 to ■peak, at the slightest movement that appeared to him to be suspicious. As time wore on, however, his distrust had vanished, and Mrs. Harris and her daughters had become a necessity to him. He was being civilized. He preferred Emma to the others, which is saying that she was the person he liked best on earth, but his manner of ■bowing it had been repellent because misunderstood. In the first place she had hated him for his supposed injustice to her husband, whereas, having read Brooks through from the start, he despised him and would not help him even to make her lot easier. When reawakened distrust, battling with unwillingness to believe that his high estimate of her had been unmerited, had caused him to try her out relent, lessly on the occasion of her appeal for Brooks, alone with him and at his mercy in his rooms, she had seen that a warm heart, full of pure regard for her, beat beneath his forbidding exterior. From that night she had learned to respect him and judge him at bls real value. His actions and idiosyncrasies received at last their true Interpretation. As for Williams, the proof that he had not been deceived In her fortified his faith and made him really happy. He was getting old. He had won his hard fought, lifelong battle with the world and was as rich as he cared to be. The devil was disposed to turn monk. The yearning for affection, not demonstrative, but existent, which came with the approach of life’s sunset and which was not to be found elsewhere was gratified there. He put on slippers. smoked his pipe, had his favorite chair, expressed his views in his authoritative way and liked to be consulted. But he never ceased to be Impressed with the ostentatious proclivities and aristocratic"'airs of Mrs. Harris and Beth, though he laughed indulgently at many of the mother’s foibles. To him the two women represented the beau monde and were authorities on all that pertained thereto. He deemed it a privilege to place one of his automobiles at - the family’s exclusive command, and It was the most luxurious vehicle money could buy. That he did not give it outright was because he knew their circumstances would not enable them to maintain it Emma was different from her mother and sister. She never gave herself #irs. He felt himself nearer to her,

and the more Intimate they grew the more she became endeared to him. She had changed much since she had left Brooks. A spirituality that be bad not of course, known in her in the old days had increased the charm of her personality, but her sensible, unaffected manner, her gentleness, were always the same. More than once be had surprised a wistful, faraway look in her' eyes, a fleeting expression of melancholy, and his solicitude had been aroused. Something caused him to refrain from questioning her, but he did considerable pondering about it. “What a shame it is that a girl like Emma isn’t married to some nice fellow worthy of her,” he remarked one evening, uttering his thoughts aloud. “There are some things that no man can understand, and this is one of ’em—that she should be handcuffed to a dirty scalawag like Brooks.” “Captain,” ejaculated Mrs. Harris, raising her hands, “you mustn’t! You know it is understood that the person’s name is never to be mentioned.”

“I know,” he said, “but you can’t alter facts because, being disagreeable, you don’t want to remember ’em. Brooks is a disagreeable fact, a darned disagreeable fact, and he’s Emma’s husband into the bargain. As such he ain’t to be ignored altogether, because he stands between her and the fair pasture lands.” “Why, captain,” smiled Emma, “I’m happy enough. What more could I want than the peace I have?” “Are you sure, girl?” be answered, shaking his head doubtfully. “I don't know—l don’t know.”

“Certalnly-sbe’s happy,” put in Beth. “And. as for getting married again, I should think she’s had enough of that to last her all her life.” “It’s your turn now, Beth,” observed Emma. “Me? Oh, I shall never marry!” “It doesn’t follow because I have been unfortunate that you should be,” said Emma. “It is easy to conceive of perfect happiness with the right husband.” “Of course 1 mean I won’t marry until the proper man comes along. I should never make the mistake ol hlndlng myself to such a man as—as that beast, or even Jlmsy, for Instance, though I'm not comparing Jimsy with him in any way.”

“What’s the matter with Smith?” grunted the captain. “Well, you would never think of him as a lover. He’s so old and unromantlc. Besides, his education’s terribly defective.”

“And he isn’t rich,” added her mother. “When Beth marries I hope it will be to a gentleman in the position to keep her as she ought to be kept” “I wonder why Jlmsy doesn’t come around any more,” said Beth. “He hasn’t been here since Christmas.” “He says he’s too busy,” observed Mrs. Harris. “Captain, you must be working him to death.” “Smith’s a good man, a corking good man,” replied the captain thoughtfully. “He’s doing more work than any three. There ain’t no necessity that I know of for him to work all night, though, if that’s what he’s doing.” Emma appeared to be absolutely indifferent to the turn the conversation had taken, though in truth she was listening greedily to Williams’ encomiums.

”D’ you know,” went on the captain, •Tve often thought that a man like Smith would be just the right kind of a husband for Emma.”

“Like Jlmsy?” Mrs. Harris laughed. She did not know whether he was joking or not, but thought he was. This time a sudden flush dyed Emma’s cheeks and deepened over her face to the very ears. No one noticed

It, however, unless It was the captain, but when he was leaning forward with his hands between his knees, as he was then, his bushy eyebrows bent In thought, It was Impossible to tell where he was looking. "That’s what I said,” he emphasized. “Take Smith himself, for the sake of argument. We’re talking among ourselves, so it don’t matter, as it won’t go any further. Suppose Emma ’d married him? Is his heart all right? Is he on the level? I’d bank on him, and that’s more’n I’d say of any other man I know. Is he capable? Brainy as they make ’em. Is he good looking? He ain’t bad looking, and with that ■mile of his he has most good lookers I’ve seen beat a mile. Beth says he

Ain’t poetic and aD that sort of thing. Maybe—maybe, but what of that? Also she says he ain't what you’d call educated. That may be, too, but when he wants to he cau bring an amount of cold sense to bear that’ll upset most men’s logic and give a bluff no chance. He’ll go far if he keeps on, for all his slow ways, and let me tell you it ain’t the man who starts off at top speed that always wins the race.” “What you say may be all true, but these qualities haven’t made Jimsy rich so far, and I doubt if they ever will. A imin can’t have everything; but money, as I’ve often told ■my girls, makes up for a lot of shortcomings, and without it—what? Here’s Emm*. married for seven years, separated from her husband, can’t get a divorce unless it’s of the. Dakota sort, which I’d never consent to, hasn’t got a cent in the world and couldn’t collect a cent of alimony if she had the right to it because the beast’s a pauper.” “No, and if he were as wealthy as the grand Turk I’d starve to death before I’d touch any money or anything else belonging to him,” commented Emma.

“Mrs. Harris,” answered the captain, with deep feeling, “money, while it’s a whole lot, ain’t everything, as I’ve found, though it’s taken me sixtyfive years to do it. It’s no fault of Emma’s that she’s poor, and I tell you that if she was to marry a man like Smith I’d settle $500,000 worth of Latin-American line stock on her for a wedding present. I would, by Sam. ma’am!”

“You would do that?” asked Mrs. Harris, overwhelmed with astonishment.

“This minute.” “Well!” - • It was all she could find to say about the reiteration. But if the family were amazed Williams was evidently alarmed at having allowed his feelings to get the better of his discretion in this way, for he lapsed into gloomy silence and very soon departed abruptly. (To be Continued.)

“I’d settle half a million dollars' worth on her for a wedding present."