Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 31, Number 278, 4 November 1906 — Page 9

Page Nine. E5y Irving IBsichellei Continued ILa,si Sunday-

The Richmond Pp"HJMr Sunday, November '4. 1906.

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.Promise only That you win iov?

le if you see none you lore better. " They were slowly nearlng the door. hiddenly she stopped, looking up at p. 1 "Are you sure you lore me?" she iked. "Yes," he whispered. "Sure?" "As sure as I am that I live." "And will love me always?" "Always," be answered. She drew his head down a little and Lit her lips to his ear. "Then I shall ve you always," she whispered. Mrs. Vaughn was waiting for them : the fireside. They sat talking awhile. "You go off to bed, Polly." said the acher presently. "I've something to y, and you're not to hear It." "I'll listen," said she, laughing. "Tien we'll whisper." Trove an-k-ered. That Isn't fair," she said, with a bk of Injury, as she held the candle. iesides. you don't allow It yourself." f'Polly ought to go away to school," Id he. after Polly bad gone above kurs. "She s a urignt gin And I so poor I'm always wonderg what'll happen tomorrow," 6a id There waa an awkward silence. fs. Vaughn. . "The farm has a mortJge, and It's more than I can- do to Kr the Interest. Some day I'll have to e it up." A "Perhaps I can help you," said the img man, feeling the fur his cap. I'bere was an awkward silence. Fact Is," said the young man, a bit barrassed "fact Is, I love Polly." n the silence that rouowea-urove Lid hear the tick of his watch. Have ye spoken to her?" said the llow. with a serious locik. .' ;. I've told her frankly tonight that I e her." said he. "I couldn't help it. b was so sweet and beautiful." If you couldn't help it, I don't see kv I could." said she. "But Polly's ly a child. She's a big girl, I know, jl she's only eighteen." I haven't asked her for any promise. wouldn't be fair. She must have a knee to meet other young men, but me time I hope sue will be my wife." Poor children!" said Mrs. Vaughn. bu don't either of you know what x're doing." He rose to go. I was a little premature," he added, it you mustn't blame me. Tut yourJf in my place. If you were a young n and loved a girl as sweet as Polly I were .walking home with her on. a onllt night" I presume there'd be more or less emaking." said the widow. "She Is pretty thing and has the way of a man. We were speaking of you the er day, and she said to me: IIe is grateful. ' You can teach the primer bs for him, and be so good that you 1 perfectly miserable, and give him pons In dancing, and put on your t clothes, and make biscuit for him. h then perhaps he'll go out and talk h the hired man. 'Polly. said I. ire getting to be very foolish. ell. it comes so easy 6ald she. 'It's one talent.' " CHAPTER XVIII. I jTEXT day Trove went home. He fl took with him many a souveI g nlr of his first term, including a scarr mat I'oiiy naa unit ror and tho curious things he took an the I renenman i.eoianc ana Ich he. retained partly because they re curious. and partly because Mrs. lane had been anxious to get rid of m. lie soon reioiaea nis class at Islorough. having kept abreast of p history and mathematics by work pr school and over the week's end. was content to fall behind In the ksics. for they were easy, and In in his arrears gave him no terror. Iking for exercise, he laid the plan tils tale and had written some bits erse. Of an evening he went often he Sign of the Dial and there read lines and. got friendly . but severe icism. - 1 us there anything you do not know?" tve Inquired. Jueb." said the tinker, "including depth o" me own folly. A man t displays knowledge hath need o :'C." " " ideed. Trove rarely came for a talk h Darrel when he failed to discover ictliing new in htm a further reach bought and sympathy or some uapected treasure of knowledge. The ;er loved a langh and would often rch his memory for some phrase a. rd or philosopher apt enough to pro :e It. Of his great store of know! e he made no vainer use. rove had been overworking, and but the middle of June they went for ,veck in the woods together. They Iked to Allen's the first day and k?r a brier visit mere went oir in the p woods, -camping by a pond in L-k timbered hills. Coming to the xl shore, they sat down awhile to t A bawk was sailing high ahove still water. Crows began to call In treetops. . An eagle sat on a dead e at the water's edge and seemed to peering down at his own shadow, o deer stood in a marsh on the farr shore looking over at them. Near were the bones of some animal and fresh footprints of a panther. bnds echoed far in the hush of the

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"See. boy." said Darrel. with a little gesture of his right hand, "the theater o' the woods! See the sloping hills, tree above tree, like winding galleries! Here is a coliseum old. past reckoning. Why, boy, long before men saw the Seven nills It was old. Yet ree how new it is,' how fresh its color, how strong Its timbers! See the many seats, each with a good view, an" the multitude o' the people, yet most o them are hidden- Ten thousand eyes are looking down upon us. . Tragedies an comedies o the forest are enacted here. Many a thrilling scene has held the stage the .spent deer swimming for his life, the painter stalking his prey or leaping on it" Tl3 a cruel part." said Trove. "He Is the murderer of the play. I cannot understand why there are so many villains in its cast. Both the cat and the serpent baffle me." "Marry, boy, the world is a great school, an this little drama o' the good God is part of.it." said Darrel. "An' the play hath a great moral thou shalt learn to use thy. brain or die. Now, there may be many perils In this land o' the woods, so many that all its people must lean. to think or perish by them. Aprety bit o wisdom it is, sor. It keeps; the great van moving ever moving In the long way to perfection. Now, among animals a growing brain works the legs of Its owner, sending them' far on diverse errand3 until they, are strong. Mind thee, boy, perfection o brain an' body Is the aim o nature'' The cat's paw an' the ser

pent's coil are but the penalties o' weakness an' folly. The world Is for the strong. Therefore God keep thee so or there be serpents will enter thy blood an devour thee millions o them. They sat a little time In silence, looking at the shores of the pond. "Have you "ever felt the love passion?" said Darrel. "Well, there's a girl of the name of Polly," Trove answered. "Ah, Polly! She o the red lips an' the, dark.' eye," said Darrel, smiling. "She's one of a thousand." He clapped his hand upon his knee merrily and sang a sentimental couplet from an old Irish ballad. - "Have ye won her affection, boy?" he added, his hand on the boy's arm. . "I think I have." . -r "God love thee! I'm glad to hear it," said the old man.. "She is' a living wonder, boy, a living wonder, an.' bad I thy youth I'd give, thee worry." "Since her mother cannot afford to do it I wish to send her away to school," said Trove. "Tut. tut. boy. Thou hast barely enough for thy "own schooling.". "I've 82 in my pocket." said Trove proudly. "I do not need It. The job in the mill that will feed me and pay my room, rent,, and my clothes , will do me for another year." "On my word, boy, I like it in thee," said Darrel, "but surely she would not take thy money." "I could not offer it to her, but you might go there, and perhaps she would take It from you." i "Capital!" the tinker exclaimed. "I'll see if I can serve thee. Marry,, good youth. I'll even give away thy money an' take credit for thy benevolence. Teacher, philanthropist, lover I believe thou'rt ready to write." "The plan of my first novel Is complete." said Trove. "That poor thiefhe shall be my chief character the man of whom you told me." "Poor man! God make thee kind to him," said the tinker. "An thou'rt willing, I'll hear o' him tonight. When the firelight flickers that is the time, boy. for tales." They built a rude lean-to, covered with bark and bedded with fragrant th lay in the firelight. Darboughs. Both rel smoking his pipe, as the night fell "Now for thy tale."- said the tinker. The tale was Trove's own solution of his life mystery, shrewdly come to after a long and careful survey of the known facts. And now, shortly, time was to put the seal of truth upon it and daze him with astonishment and fill him with regret of his cunning. It should be known that he had never told Darrel or any one of his coming in the little red sleigh. He lay thinking for a time after the tinker spoke; then he began: "Well, the time Is 1SC5. the place a New England city on the sea. Chapter I A young woman, i walking alpng.a street, with a child sleeping in her arms. She Is dark skinned a Syrian. It Is growing dusk. The street is deserted save by her and two sailors, who are approaching her. The3 too, are Syrians. Oue seems to strike her-r It is mere pretense, however and she falls. The other seizes the child, .who, having been drugged. Is still asleep. A wagon is waiting near. They drive away hurriedly, their captive under a blanket. The kidnapers make for the woods in New Hampshire). , Officers .of the law drive them far. They abandon their horse, tramping- westward over trails in the wilderness, bearing the boy in a sack of sailcloth, open at the top. They had guns and killed their food as they traveled. Snow came "deep. By and by game was scarce and they had grown weary of bearing the boy on their backs. One waited in the woods with the little lad while the other went away to. some town pr.city for provisions. He came back, hauling them in a iittle sleigh. It was much like those made for the delight of the small boy In every land of snow. It had a box painted red and two bobs and a little dashboard. They used It for the transportation of boy and impedimenta. "In the deep wilderness beyond the Adirondacks they found a cave in one of the rock ledges. They were twenty miles from any postoffice, but shortly discovered ae. Letters la cipher were soon passing between mem and their confederates. They learned there was no prospect of getting the ransom He they hadL. thought rich was, not able to raise the money they required or any large sum. Two years went by, and they abandoned hope. What should they do with the boy? One advised murder, but the other defended him. It was unnecessary, he maintained, to kill a mere baby, who knew not a

word of English ana .vouiu target all In" a month. And murder would only Increase their peril. Now. eight miles from their cave was the cabin of a settler. They passed within a mile of

It on their way out and In. They had ! often met the dog of the settler roving after small game a shepherd, trustful, affectionate and ever ready to make friends. One day they captured the dog and took him to their cave. They could not safely be seen with the boy, so they planned to let the dog go home with him in a little red sleigh. Now, the settler's cabin was, like that of my father, on the shore of a pond. It was round, as a cup's rim, and a mile or so In diameter. Opposite the cabin a trail came to the water's edge, skirting the pond, save in cold weather, when It crossed the ice. They waited for a night when their tracks would soon disappear. Then, having made a cover of the sailcloth sack in which they had brought the boy and stretched it on withes and made it fast to the sleigh box, they put the sleeping boy in the sleigh with hot stones wrapped In paper, and a robe of fur to keep him warm, hitched the dog to it and came over hill and trail to the little pond awhile after midnight Here they bucklqd a ring of bells on the dog's neck anil released him. He made for his Isome on the clear ice, the bells and his bark sounding as he ran. They at the cabin heard him coming and opened their doer to dog and traveler. So came my hero in a little red sleigh and was adopted by the settler and his wife and reared by them with generous affection. Well, he goes to school and learns rapidly and comes to manhood. It's a pretty story that of his life In the big woods. But now for the , love tale. He meets a young lady sweet, tender, graceful, charming." j"A moment." said Darrel, raising his hind. "Prithee, boy, ring down the curtain for a brief parley. Thou say'st they -were Syrians they that stole the lad. " Now, tell me, hast thou reason for that?" limple," said Trove. "When they took him out of the sleigh the first worids he spoke were 'Anah jouhan. He used them many times, and while he forgot they remembered ' them. Now, 'Anah jouhan Is a phrase of the Syrian ' tongue, meaning, 'I am hungry. " "Very well," said the old man, with emphasis, "and sailors. That Is, a just Inference. It was a big port, and far people came on the four winds. Very well! Now, for the young lady. An' away with thy book unless I love her." "She Is from life a simple hearted girl, frank and beautiful and" Trove hesitated, looking Into the dying fire. "Noble, boy. Make sure o' that, an nobler, too, than girls are apt to be. If Emulation would measure height with her see that it stand upon tiptoes." "So I have planned. The young man loves her. She is in every thought and purpose; She has become as the rock on which his hope is founded. Now he loves honor, too, and all things of good report. He has been reared a Puritan. By chance, one day, it comes to him that his father was a thief." The boy paused. For a moment they heard only the voices, of the night. "He dreaded to tell her," Trove continued, "yet he could not ask her to be his wife without telling. Then the question. Had he a right to tell? For his father had not suffered the penalty of the law and, mind you, men thought , him honest." " 'Tis just." said Darrel. "But tell me, how came he to know his father was a thief?" , "That I am thinking of, and before I answer. Is there more you can tell me of him or his people?" Darrel rose and, lighting a torch of pine, stuck it In the ground; then he opened Lis leatheril pocketbook and ! took out a number of cuttings, much j worn and apparently from old newspapers. He put on his glasses and began to examine the cuttings. "The other day." said he, "I found an account of his mother's death. I had forgotten, but her death was an odd tragedy." And ' 3 tinker began reading slowly as follows: "She an' her mother, a lady deaf an feeble, were alone, saving the servant, in a remote corner o' the house. A sound woke her in the still night. She lay awhile. listening. Was it her husband returning without his key? She rose, feeling her way In the dark an' trembling with the fear of a nervous woman. Descending stairs, she came Into a room o many windows. The shades were up. an' there was dim tuooniight in the room. A door with panels o' thick glass led to the garden walk. Beyond it were the dark forms of men. One was peering In, his face at a panel, another kneeling at the lock. Suddenly the door opened. The ,aav fol fainting, with a loud cry. Next day the kidnaped boy was bora." ; Darrel stopped reading, put the clip-; ping into his pocketbook and smothered the torch. "It seems the woman died the same day," said he. "And was my mother." The words came in a broken voice. Half a moment of silence followed them; then Darrel rose slowly, and a tremulous, deep sigh came from the tips of Trove. "Thy mother, boy!" Darrel whispered. The fire had burned low, and the great shadow of the night lay dark upon them. Trove got to his feet and came to the side of Darrel. "Tell me. for God's sake, man, tell me where is my father!" said he. "Hush, boy! Listen. Hear the wind in the trees," said Darrel. There was a breath of silence, broken by -the hoot of an owl and the stir of high branches. "Ye might as well ask o' the wind or the wild owL" Darrel said. "I cannot tell thee. Be calm, boy. and say how thorn hast come to know." Again they sat down together, and presently Trove told him of those silent men who had ever haunted the dark and ghostly house of his Inheritance. " Tis thy mother's terror an thy father's house I make no doubt." said Darrel presently in a deep voice. "But, boy, I cannot tell any man where Is thy father, not een thee, nor his name or tin lajist thinjr anding la oaint him

out until uaUl 1 aia released o me vow. Be csntent. If I can find the man ere long thou shalt have word o him." . Trove leaned against the breast of Darrel, shaking with emotion. His tale had come to an odd and fateful climax. The old man stroked his head tenderly. "Ah. boy," said he. "I know thy heart. I shall make haste I promise thee I shall make hasje. But If the good God should bring thy father to thee an thy head to shame an sorrow for his sin, forgive him, in the name o Christ, forgive him. Aye, boy, thou must forgive all that trespass against thee." "If I ever see him he shall know I am not ungrateful," said the young man. Trove and Darrel walked to the clearing above Faraway. At a corner on

the high hills, where northward they could see smoke and spire of distant villages, each took his way, one leading to Hillsborough, the other to Allen's. "Goodby. An when I return I hope to hear the rest o' thy tale." said Darrel as they parted. "Only God is wise enough to finish It," said the young mm. , "'Well. God help us; 'tis a world to see,' " Darrel quoted., waving hi3 hand. "If thy heart oppress thee, steer for the Blessed Isles." ; CHAPTER XIX. A BIG maple sheltered the house of the Widow Vaughn. After the noon hour of a summer day its tide of shadow began flowing fathoms deep over house and garden to the hear field, where finally It joined the great flood of night. The maple was Indeed a robin's Inn at some crossing of the invisible roads of the air. Its green dome : towered high above and fell to the gable end of the -little house. Its deep and leafy thatch hid every timber of its frame save the rough column. Its trunk was the main beam, each limb a corridor, each tier of limbs a floor, and branch rose abofe branch like steps in a stairway. Up and down the high dome of the maple were a thousand balconies overlooking the meadow. From its highest , tier of a summer morning the notes of -the bobolink came rushing off his lyre, and farther down the golden robin sounded his piccolo. But chiefly it was the home and refuge of the familiar red breasted robin. The inn had its ancients customs. Each young bird, leaving his cradle, climbed his own .stairway till he came out upon a balcony and got a first timid look at field and sky. There he might try his wings and keep ia the world he knew by using bill and claw on the lower tiers. At dawn the great ball of the maple rang with music, for e dger paid his score with song. in It was ever cool and clean ana dy though the sun were hot. Its every nook and cranny was often swept and dusted by the wind. Its branches leading up and outward to the green wall were as ln-v numerable stairways. Each separate home was out on rocking beams.' with Its own flicker of skylight overhead. For a time at dusk there was a continual flutter of weary wings at the lower entrance, a good night twitter and a sound of tiny feet climbing the stairways In that gloomy hall. -At las1 there was a moment of gossip and the" silence on every floor. There seemed to be a night watch In the lower hall, and If any green young bird were late and noisy going up to his home he got a shaking and probably lost a few feathers from the nape of his neck. Long before day loftZZn to P of the bean to break those hungry, half clad little peoworry and crowd their mothers. At first the old birds tried to quiet them with caressing movements and had at last to hold their places with bill and claw. As light came an old cock peered about him. stretched his wings, climbed a stairway and blew his trumpet on the outer wall. The robin's day had begun. Mid-autumn, when its people shivered and found fault and talked of moving, tne maple tried to please them with new and brighter colors gold, with the warmth of summer in Its look; scarlet, suggesting love and the June roses. Soon it stood bare and deserted. Then what was there in the creak-and-whisper chorus of the, old tree for one listening in the night? Belike it might be many things, according to the ear. but was It not often somethins to make one think ol that solemn o?ssage: "Man that la born of woman is of few days and full of trouble?" They who lived in that small house under the tree knew little of all that passed in the big world. Trumpet blasts of fame, thunder of rise and downfall, came faintly to them. There the delights of art and luxury were unknown. Yet those sim- j pie folk were acquainted with pleasure ; and even with thrilling and impressive incidents. Field and garden teemed with eventful life, and hard by was the great city of the woods. Cr APTER XX. ,ROVE was three days in Briei Dale after he came out of the woods. The filly was now a sleek and shapely animal, past three years of age. He began at once breaking her to me saddle, and, thatj done, mounting, he started for Robin's Inn. He carried a game rooster in a sack for the boy Tom. All came out with a word of welcome. Even the small dog grew noisy with delight Tunk Hosely, who had come to work for Mrs. Vaughn, took the mare and led her away, his shoulder leaning with an added sense of horsemanship. Polly began to hurry dinner, fussing with the table and changing me position of every dish until it seemed as if she would never be quite satisfied. . Covered with, the sacred old china and table linen of her grandmother, it had, when j Polly was done with It. a very smart appearance indeed- Then she called the boys and bade them wash their hands and faces and whispered a warning to each, while her mother announced, that dinner was ready

"Paul, what's an adjective?" said me teacher as they sat down. "A word applied to a noun to qualify or limit Its meaning." the boy answered glibly. "Right! And what adjective would you apply to this table?" The boy thought a moment. "Grand!" said he tentatively. "Correct! I'm going to have just such a dinner every day on my farm." "Then you'll have to have Polly too," said Tom Innocently. "Well, you can spare her." "No, sir." the boy answered. "You ain't good to her. She cries every time you go away." ' Tl'cre was an awkward silence, and the widow began to laugh and Tolly and Trove tr blush deeply.

? "Maybe she whispered, an he give her a talkin to," said Paul. n"Have you heard about Ezra Tower?" said Mrs. Vaughn, shaking her head at the boys and changing tho topic with shrewd diplomacy. "Much; but nothing new," said Trove. "Well, he swears he'll never cross the Fadden bridge or speak to anybody in Pleasant valley." "Why?" "The taxes. He don't believe in im provements, and when he tried to make a speech in town meeting they all jeer-1 ed him. There ain't any one good ! enough for him to speak to now but himself an' an his Creator." In the midst of dinner they heard an outcry in the yard. Tom's gamecock had challenged the old rooster, and the two were leaping and striking with foot and wing. Before help came me old rooster was badly cut in the neck and breast Tunk rescued him and brought him to the - wood shed, where Trove sewed up his wounds. He had scarcely finished when there came a I6uder outcry among the fowls. Looking out they saw a gobbler striding slowly up the path and leading the gamecock with a firm hold on the back of his neck. The whole flock of fowls were following. The rooster held back and came on with long but unequal strides. Never halting, the turkey led him into the full publicity of the open yard. Now the cock was lifted so his feet came only to the top of the grass; now his head was bent low, and his feet fell heavily. Through it all the gobbler bore himself with dignity and firmness. There was no show of wrath or unnecessary violence. lie swung the cock around near the foot of the maple tree and walked him back and then returned with him. Half his journey the poor cock was reaching for the grass and was then lowered quickly so he had to walk with bent knees. Again and again the gobbler walked up and down with him before the assembled flock. nens and geese cackled loudly and clapped ' their wings. Applause and derision rose high each time the poor cock swung around reaching for the grass, but the gobbler continued his even stride, deliberately and, as it seemed, thoughtfully, applying correction to the quarrelsome bird Walking the grans tips had begun to tire those reaching legs The cock soon straddled along with a serious eye and an open mouth, but the gobbler gave him no rest When at length he released his hold the gamecock lay weary and wild eyed, with no more fight in him than a bunch of rags. Soon he rose and ran away and hid himself In the stable The culprit fowl was then tried, convicted and sentenced to the block. "It's the fate of all fighters that have only a selfish cause," said the teacher. He was sitting on the grass. Polly and Tom and Paul beside him. "Look here." said he suddenly. "I'll show you another fight." All gathered about him. Dow among the grass roots an ant stood facing a big. hairy spider. The ant backed away presently and made a little detour, the spider turning quickly and edging toward him. The ant stood motionless, the spider on tiptoe, with daggers drawn. The big. hairy spider leaped like a lion to its prey. They could see her striking with the fatal knives., her great body quivering with tierce energy. The little ant was hidden beneath it Some uttered a cry of pity, and Paul was for taking sides. "Wait a moment" said the teacher, restraining his hand. The spider had begun to tremble in a curious manner. "Look now," said Trove, with some excitement Her legs had begun to let go and were straightening stiff on both sides of her. In a moment she tilted sideways and lay still. They saw a twinkle of black legs and the ant making oh" in the stubble. They picked up the spider's body; it was now only an emp- i ty shell. Her big stomach had been torn away and lay in little 6trips and chunks down at the roots of the stub ble, "it's the end of a bit of history," said the teacher as he tore away the curved blades of the spider and put them in Follv's Dalm. "Let's see where the ant goes." He got down upon his hands and knees and watched the little black tiger, now hurrying for his lair. In a moment he was joined by others, and presently they came Into a smooth llti tie avenue under the grass. It took them into the edge of the meadow, around a stalk of mullein, where there were a number of webs. "There's where she lived this hairy old woman," said the teacher "up there in that tower. See her snares ia the grass four of them?" L.e rapped on the stalk of mullein with a 6tick, peering into the dusty little cavern of silk near the top of It "Sure enough! Here is where she lived, for the house Is empty and there's living prey in the snares." "What a weird old thing!" said Polly. "Can you tell us more about her?" "Well, every summer." said Trove, "a great city grows up in the field, There are shady streets in it, no wider I than a cricket's back, and millions liv ing in nest and tower and cave and cavern. Among its people are toilers and idlers, -laws and lawbreakers, thieves and highwaymen, grand folk and plain folk. Here is the home of ttu xrea.test criminal in, the city of the

Eeio. See: It is between two leaves, one serving as roof, the other as floor and portico. Here is a long cable that

comes out of her sitting room and ; slopes away to the big snare below, j Look at her sheets of silk In the grass. It's like a washing that's been hung out to dry. From each a slender cord of silk runs to the maia cable. Even a fly's kick or a stroke of his tiny wing must have gone up the tower and shaken the floor of the old lady, maybe, with a sort of thunder. Then she ran out and down the cable to rush upon 1 1 - .... .w. oue a as uu arrant uifjii wny uiuu, mis old lady a creature of craft and violence. She was no sooner married than she slew lier husband a timid thing smaller than she and ate him at one meal. You know the ants are a busy people. This road was probably a thoroughfare for their freight eggs and cattle and wild rice. I'll warrant she used to lie and wait for them, and woe to the little traveler If she caught him unawares, for she could nip him in two with a single thrust of her knives. Then she would seize the egg he bore and make off with it. Now, the ants are cunning. They found her downstairs and cut her off from her ! home and drove her away into the grass Jungle. I've no doubt she faced a score of thorn, but. being a swift climber, with lots of rope In her pocket, ! was able to get away. The soldier ants began to beat the jungle. They separated, content to meet her singly, ! knowing she would refuse to fight If ' confronted by more than one. And you know what happened to her." All that afternoon they spent in the city of me field. The life of the birds in the great maple interested them most of all. In the evening be played "It's your moi'e," said she. checkers with Polly and told her of school life in the village of Hillsborough the work and. play of the students. ' ' ' "Oh, I do wish I could go." said she presently, .wiili .a. deep sigh. He thought of tho $S2 in his pocket and longed to tell her all that he was planning for her sake. Mrs. Vaughn went above stairs with the children. Then Trove took Polly's hand. They looked deeply into each other's eyes a moment, both smiling. "It's jour move." said she, smiling as her glance fell. He moved all the checkers. There came a breath of silence and a groat surge of happiness that washed every checker off the board and left the two with flushed faces. Then, as Mrs. Vaughn was coming downstairs, the checkers began to rattle into position. "I won." said he as the door opened. "But he didn't play fair." said Polly. "Children, I'm afraid you're playing more love than checkers," said the widow. "Y"ou.'re both too young to think of marriage." Those two looked thoughtfully at the ciiecKerDoara, t'ouy s cum resting on her hand. She had begun to- smile. , "I'm rure Mr. Trove has no such thought in his head." said she, still looking at the board. "Your mother is right We're both very young.". said Trove. . "I believe you're afraid of her," said Polly, looking up at him with a smile. "I'm only thinking of your welfare," said Mrs. Vaughn gently. "Young love should be stored away, and if it keeps, Why,' then it's all right." "Like preserves!" said Polly soberly, as if she "were not able to'see the point. ' Against the protest of Polly and her mother Trove went to sleep In the sugar shanty, a quarter of a mile or so back la the woods. On his first trip with the drove he had developed fondness for sleeping out of doors. The shanty, was a rude structure of logs with an open front Tunk went ahead. bearing a pine torch, while Trove followed, the blanket over his shoulder. CHAPTER XXL II EN Trove woke in the morning a package covered with white, paper lay on the blan?t'""near his hand. lie rose and picked it up and saw his own name in a strange handwriting on th wrapper. He turned It ; looking curiously at seal and superscription. Tearing it open, he found to his great surprise a brief note and a roil of money. -Herein is a gift for Mr. Sidney Trove." said the note. "The gift is from a friend unknown, who prays God that wisdom may go with it so it prove a blessing to both." Trove counted the t money carefnl!y. ' There were $3,000 in bank bills. lie sat a moment thinking; then he rose and began searching for tracks around -the shanty He found none, however, i in the dead leaves which he could distinguish from those cf Tunk and him self. "It mast be from my father," said he a thought that troubled him deepfor lt seemed to bring ill news that his father would never make him self known. - "He must have seen me last night Trove went on. "He must even have been near me so near he could have touched me with his hand. If I bad only wakened!

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He put the money ia'his pocket and made ready to go. He would leave at once in quest of Darrel and take counsel of him. It was early, and he could see the first light of the sun high la the tall towers of hemlock. The forest rang with bird songs. He went to ths brook near by and drank of its clear, colJ water and bathed in It. Then h walked slowly to Robin's Inn. where Mrs. Vaughn had begun building fire. She observed the troubled look in his face, but said nothing of it then, Trove greeted her and went to to

i stable to feed his mare. Then he - went in to breakfast AM hour later he bade them all goodby and set out for Allen's. A' new fear began to weigh upon him as he traveled. Was this a part of that evil sum, and had his father begun now to scatter what he had never any right to touch? Whoever brought him that big roll of money had robbed him of his peace. Even his ribs, against which it chafed as he rode along, began to feel sore. Home at last he put up the mare and went to tell his mother that he must be off for Hill borough. v , "My son." 6aid she. her arms about his neck, "our eyes are growing dim and for a long time have seen little of you." "And I feel the loss," Trove answer ed. "I have things to do there and 6hall return tonight" "You look troubled," was her answer. "Poor boy! I pray God to keep you unspotted of the world. She wu ever fearing unhappy news of the mystery that something evil would come out of it. - As Trove rode away he took account of all he owed those good people who had been mother and father to him. What a pleasure it would give him to lay that goodly sum In the lap of his mother and bid her spend lt with, no thought of economy. The mare knew him as one may know a brother. There was In her manner some subtle understanding of his mood. Her master saw lt in the poise of her head. In the shift of her ears and in her tender way of feeling for his hand. , She. too, was looking right and left In the fields. There irere the scenes of a boyhood newly but for. ever gone. "That s where you overtook me on the way to school." said he to Phyllis, for 60 the tinker had named her. ' . She drew at the rein, starting play fully as she heard his voice and shaking his hand as if to say: "Oh, master, give me the rein. I will bear yon swiftly to happiness." ; - , Trove looked down at her proudly. luiiiu lur Dii&cu ami ut un ucvi. . as Darrel had once told him, God took note of the look of one's horses, she was fit for the last journey." - Arriving at Hillsborough, he tied - her in the sheds and took his way to the Sign of the Dial. Darrel was working at his little bench. He turned wearily, his . m s m a. race paier man i rove uau ever seen ii. his eyes deeper under their fringe of silvered hair. "An God be praised, the boy!" said he, rising quickly. "Canst thou make a jest, boy a merry jest?1 "Not until you have told me what's the matter." "Illness an the food o bitter fancy." said the tinker, with' a sad face. . t "Bitter fancy?" "Yes, an' o' thee. boy. nad I gathered care In the broad fields all me life an' heaped lt on thy back I could not have done worse by thee." Darrel put his hand upon the boys shoulder, surveying him from head to foot. ' ' ""'But "marry," be added," 'tis ' mighty thih an' a broad back. "Have you seen my father?". "Yes." There was a moment of silence, and Trove began to change color. "And what did he say?" "That he will bear his burden alone.; Then for a moment silence and the ticking of the clocks. "And I shall never know my father? said Trove presently, his . Hps trembling. "God, sir, I insist upon ltl 1 have a right to his name and to his shame also." The .young man sank upon a chair, covering his face. "Nay, boy. it Is not wise," said Darrel tenderly. "Take thought of It. Thou'rt young. The time Is near when thy father can make restitution, aye, an' acknowledge bis sin before the world. All very near to him, saving thyself,1 are dead. Now,, whatever comes, it can do thee no harm. "But I care not for disgrace, and often you have told me that I should live and speak the truth, even though it burn me to the bone." "So have I, boy, so have L But suppose it burn others to the bone. It will burn thy wife an thy children an thy children's children and them that have reared thee, an' it would burn thy father most of all." . Trove was utterly silenced. Ills father was bent on keeping his own disgrace. "Mind thee, boy, the law o truth Is great but the law o love Is greater. A lie for the sake o love think o that a long time, mink until my neart is worn with all fondness an thy soul Is ready for its God, then judge it" "But when he makes confession I shall know and go to him and stand by Lis side." the young man remarked. "Nay. boy, rid thy mind o that If ye were to hear of his crime ye'd never know it was thy father's." "It Is a bitter sorrow, but I shall make the best pf it" said Trove. "Aye, make the best of lt Thou'rt now In the deep sea, an God guide thee." "But I ask your help. Will you read that7 said 'Trove, handing Lim the mysterious note that came with the roll of money. r . "An bow much came with it?" said Darrel as he read the lines. "Three thousand dollars. Here they are. I do not know what to do with them... ' (To be Continued Next Sunday.) See hew what you have, neard lookj in print and get a dollar for doing It Win th news -tip' prize-