Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 February 1902 — A CLERICAL ERROR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A CLERICAL ERROR

By FRANOIS LYNDE.

[Copyright, 1839, by the Author.] [CONTINUED.] ‘‘After I left you at the house I went down town and wired Hardwicke, the agent at Lavarock, telling him there would be a couple on this train to be married in the hotel parlor on arrival. He is to arrange with the county clerk to keep his office open so that I can get the license, and to have the minister ready. I can drive to the courthouse and back in ten minutes, and we can have if all over with while "the passengers are at supper and be ready to go west on No. 5. ” “It’s very dreadful, Alan,” she murmured. “So pitifully different from one’s.ideal wedding.” “That’s so” —cheerfully “there isn’t any ideality to spare for a fact. But we can’t help that. If we hadn’t made the dash, your father would have packed you off to Ohio between two days, wouldn’t he?” “He said he would, and I’m afraid he meant it. And yet he has always been very good to me, Alan, before—before this, you know.” " “I know; but he meant business this time. And that isn’t all. After I had my little seance with him this morning —when I asked him outright if we mightn’t be married like other people —he abused me like a sheep thief; said he’d write to the general manager and have me discharged, though he didn’t mention upon what grounds he would demand it.” “But how could he do that?” “I give it up. There is nothing on record against me, I believe, except that I’ve had the audacity to fall in love with you after he had quarreled with my father. But I couldn’t help either the one or the other.” “No, indeed. But I hope you didn’t quarrel with him. ” “Didn’t I? I told him to go ahead and write his letter if he wanted to; that 1 guess I could stand the publicity if he could. ” “Alan! You didn’t tell me that.” “No. it didn’t seem judicious. ” “Perhaps I mightn’t have consented if you had. ” “Oh, yes, you would.” “Why would I?” “Because you—love me.” In good truth I could not obtain my own consent to listen any longer. Moreover, the notes of the wood dove, feathered or human, are not particularly edifying in the ears of one who has long esebt fd all thoughts of domestic joys; and I betook myself with my book to the deserted smoking compartment. Here I was left in peace until aftar the train had passed the first telegraph ■ station, but it was no sooner under way again than the conductor entered, followed closely by my young scapegrace. They sat down in the opposite seat, ignoring my presence as if I had been something more or less than a human being. “What is it, Tom?” demanded the young man anxiously. “Oh, you’re in fpr it up to your necks, you two I I have orders to dishonor your passes and put you both off at the next station, * ’ said the conductor, with what I understood to be mock solemnity. Roderick nodded appreciatively. “I thought that would be the first thing he would do. That’s why I bought regular tickets. We’re patrons of the company, just like other people, and I dare you to put us off I” The big conductor’s laugh shook the

wiAdows. “That’s what I wired ’em.” he said. “But that ain’t the worst of it. Your don’t want to be father-in-law’s out

with a wild engine chasing us, and he’« got special orders giving him right of way over everything north and south.” I could not deny myself a glance at the young man’s.face over the top of my book. It was a striking and instructive study in dismay. “By Jove, Tom, that’s a horse of another color I He’ll overhaul us as sure as fate. What am I going to do?” The big man shrugged. “Can’t you drop off at Alcantro or Syracuse and have it done before Bosty catches up?” “No; that’s the dickens of it; that’s what we’re running away for. We’ve got to get out of the state. Miss Bost-1 wick lacks just three months of being 1 legally of age.” “Oho I I see. That makes it bad. What’s the old man got against yon anyway, Rod?” “Nothing against me. It’s my father. Three or four years ago, when father was running the 291, they had a pretty spiteful tiff and father quit and went over to the East and West. Since that time the master mechanic has had no use for any of us.” “Who was to blame?” “I never knew. They’re both rather peppery, and I guess it was six of one and a half dozen of the other. But that doesn’t help me out of my bucket of hot water. What am I going to do? That’s what I’d like to know.” The conductor opened his watch and appeared to be making a reflective computation. “I’vegot a scheme, but I don’t know as it’s worth much. He registered out 45 minutes behind us. If he doubles our schedule—which he’ll hardly dare to do on this light iron—he can’t catch us before we make Brownsville, can he?” “1 should eay not; but what of that ?” “Just go a little mite easy. I’m coming to the scheme pretty quick now. At Brownsville we meet the way freight, and Jack Benson’s running it. Happen to know Jack?” “I ought to. He was father’s fireman ” “Just so. Now, if I was you, which it’s mighty lucky for me I ain’t, and a good friend of mine was running that way freight, I bet you big money something would happen down at this end of the Brownsville yard that'd hold that there wild engine another 45 minutes or s*>. What!” “Tom, you’re a trump 1 Jack will do it, if it costs him his job. You’ll give me time at Brownsville to get a word with him?” “Sure thing. But you don’t want anybody to see you talking to him—it’s got to be a straight out accident, you know, with nobody to blame. ” “I know,” replied the young rascal, with a nod of intelligence. “Trust me for that. Hello! This is La Vaca. Let’s go see what the wires have to say. ” They went out together, leaving me with a new responsibility. Here was a bold conspiracy to obstruct the railway company's business, possibly to involve an innocent person or perhaps more than one in trouble. Was it not my duty to interfere at all hazards? I confess I have little regard for intermeddlers of any sort, and this was certainly no affair of mine. Nevertheless, I compromised on a resolve to expostulate with the young man himself before we should reach Brownsville, and in the eddy of that determination resumed my book and the interrupted train of thought. Now, it is a student’s weakness to be unconscious of the lapse of time, and, after what seemed to me a very short interval indeed, my young Romeo entered the smoking room alone. Here, tnougnt 1, is my chance to reprehend the young knave, and I was about to do so when he forestalled me. “This is Father Penbarton, I believe,” he began affably, producing a cigar case. “Will you join me?” “Thank you, I do not smoke,” I replied as severely as might be. “No? But you won’t mind my smoking, will you?” “Certainly not. I wish I might as readily absolve you of your weightier offenses. ’ ’ “Meaning?”—bis eyebrows went up in well affected surprise. “Meaning your reckless defiance of the proprieties in eloping with that "sweet young girl in yonder—that and yotar plot to delay her anxious parent,” said I sternly. His smile was more than half a grimace. “You don’t know the circumstances. father. If you did, you wouldn’t blame us much'. And as to the plot -< well, that was rather a shabby trick tc play on the old gentleman, but it’s too late to repent of that now. ” “Too late? How? What do you mean?” “Why, it’s a matter of history, so to speak. We managed among us to delay him nearly ah hour at Brownsville, but he is after us again now at the rate of a mile a minute. ” “Do you meaty to tell me that we have already passed Brownsville?” I demanded, unable to believe that my abstraction had been so profound.

“Rather better than an hour ago This is Jornada, " with a wave of his hand toward the station at which the train was then pausing. The minor transgression being nnpreventable, I was about to attack the major, when h brakeman came in and handed the young man a telegram upon which the ink was not yet dry. The lighted cigar fell from his fingers as he read and would assuredly have burned a hole in the carpet had I not promptly set my foot upon it. “Great murder, but that does settle it I’’ he groaned. “The way of the transgressor”— I began, but he broke in as one who hears not. “Say, Father Penburton, can a priest of the Catholic church marry a pair of heretics at a pinch?” The question seemed singularly irrelevant, but I answered it to the best of my knowledge and belief. “I know of no rule forbidding it. Why do you ask?” “Read that,” ho said tragically, thrusting the message into my hand. “If you can’t help us out, we’re done for, world without end I” I read: To Alan Roderick, on Train No. 7: Everything O. K. as ordered except the-mln-later. He is out at Reservation. Have sent cow puncher after him on best broncho in town, but am afraid lie can’t reach before 7 •'clock. Shall I (jet justice peace? Answer. It was signed “flardwicke,” and there was a footnote in brackets—evidently a bit of extraneous information added by the receiving operator at Jornada : Bosty is overhauling you right. Ho passed Ormsbee five minutes ago, running like the wild Irishman. He'd bent you 15 minutes into Lavarock if he could got by you. “What have I to do with this?” said I, indicating the message. “Why, I thought—that is, I didn’t know but you’d—well, you see, Father Penburton, we’ve got to have a minister of some sort some way. It’s no use talking about a justice of the peace to Eleanor. She won’t listen a minute to that. But she might consent to be married by a Catholic priest. She is what we call pretty high church, you know.” “Still I do not understand. lam not a justice of the peace nor yet a priest of the Romish confession.” “You’re riot? Why, Graflfo said you were, and your—er”— he broke down and finished rather tamely. “I thonght you looked like one.” “Which one?” I asked, trying to be as severe as the occasion demanded. “The magistrate or the priest?” “Don’t hit me when I’m down,” he pleaded. “I meant the priest, of course. ” “Ahl I suppose I should be flattered, but I am not.” He sat twiddling his watch chain nervously while he tried to frame the crucial question. “Then may I ask. Would you mind telling me what kind of a—a minister you are?” he stammered finally. “I am a clergyman of the church of which Miss Bostwick seems by your admission to be a communicant,” said I. “Oh, thank goodness 1” he exclaimed, jumping up to grasp my hand effusively. “Two young fools for luck every timel You’ll help us out, won’t you?” It was my opportunity, and I used it unsparingly. ITO BE CONTINUED;]

I could not deny myself a glance at the young man’s face.