Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 October 1900 — ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS

A BREAM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

By Rev. CHARLES M. SHELDON.

Int Out of “la Bis Steps," "The Crucifixion of PhaipS&ono," "Malum Kirk," Etc. Copyright I9oov by Advance Publishing Oo.] “Yes, sir; I’H go at once. llow is she tow, Mr. Hardy?” James looked him n the face with the look that love neons when It ts true and brave. "‘My boy,” replied Mr. Hardy, laying his hand on James’ shoulder, “I don’t know. There Is something strange about it Get a doctor if you can. But I know there must be many other sad homes today in Barton. Oh, it was horrible]? He flat down and covered his face, :WhHo3aufefl with a brief “God help us, BjrP'Vent oat in search of a doctor. Mr. Hardy went up stairs again and, With his wife, knelt down,, and offered • prayer of thanksgiving and of appeal. “O Lord,” said Robert, “grant that this dear one of ours may be restored to us again. Spare us this anguish, not in return for our goodness, but out of thy great compassion for our sins repented of.” Will and Bess lay in the next room, and now that the reaction had set in they were sleeping. Will feverish and restless, Bess quiet and peaceful, as if nothing had happened out of the usual order of things. . “Where Is George?” asked Mr. Hardy as be rose from bis prayer. “I don’t know, Robert. He started down to the train a little while after you did. Haven’t you seen him?” “No, Mary. God grant he may not”— Mr. Hardy did not dare finish his thought aloud. His wife guessed his thought, and together the two sat hand in hand, drawn very near by their mutual trouble and by all the strange events of that strange week, and together they talked of the accident and of tiara and James and their eldest son, and then Mrs. Hardy said as she trembling drew her husband's face near to her: “Robert, do you still have that impression concerning the time left you here to live? Do you still think this Week hi tA be the en.l V' MrS. Hardy had a vague hope that the shock of the accident might have destroyed the impression of the dream, but her hope was disappointed. “My dear wife,” replied Robert, there is not the least doubt in my

mind that my dream was a vision of what will happen. There is no question but that after Sunday I shall not be with you. This is Wednesday. How lightninglike the days have flown! How precious the moments are! How many of them I have wasted in foolish selfishness! Mary, 1 should go mad with the thought if I did not feel the necessity of making this week the best week of my life, only I do not know what is most important to do. If it had been seven months or even seven weeks, I might have planned more wisely. Oh, it is cruelly brief, the time! But I must make the wisest possible use of it. This accident, so unexpected, has complicated the matter. I had not reckoned on it.” How many of us do reckon on accidents? They always come into our lives with a shock. Yet it seems possible that a man who lives very close to God every day might be so ready for everything that not even the most terrible catastrophe could make much difference to his plans for daily life, least of all deprive him of his reason, as it has so often done. Robert Hardy was Just beginning to realize dimly that life is not one thing, but many things, and that its importance is the Importance which belongs to the charneter of God himself. H" began to talk calmly with his wife concerning what he would do that i*or and was still talking about it when James came In with a doctor, who at once went up stairs. He was just from scene of the accident and bore marks Of a bard night’s work. His first glance at Clara was hard and professional. but as he looked he grew vary fißSvo, and an expression of serisurprise came over his weary face, jlelald his hands on the girl’s eyes and ■pyprntnod them, raised her hand and dropped It upon the bed again. Then, timing to the father and mother, he •aid gently: "Tod must prepare yourselves for a terrible fact resulting from the accid«fit to your daughter. She has suffered a Shock that will probably render bar Mind as long as she lives.” Mt. and Mrs. Hardy listened, pale end troubled. It was hard to tMA of the girl, so strong willed, so neeskmate and yet so capable of noble LThfilsGi and loving desires, as all her

life shut up within the darkness thus. It was bitter to think of this for her. What would it be to her when she awoke to the whole consciousness of it? The doctor spoke again slowly; “There Is another thing you ought to be prepared for. In rare cases like this, it' happens sometimes that a loss of hearing accompanies tne loss of sight.” Then, after a pause: “And with the loss of sight and hearing it is possible the peculiar shock has deprived your daughter of the power of speech; Ido not know yet whether this has happened, but I prepare you for the worst.” “Blind and deaf and dumb!” murmured Mr. Hardy, while his wife sat down and buried her face in the bedclothes and sobbed. It seemed terrible to them. The doctor, after a little further examination, said nothing more could be done at present, gave directions for certain necessary treatment and departed after giving a look at Will and Bess and prescribing for them. .Mr. Hardy went down stairs and quietly told James all that the doctors had said. To a man living on the .verge of eternity! as Mr. Hardy was, there was no time for evasions or the postponing of bad news or the utterance of soft speeches. James took the news more calmly than Mr. Hardy thought ho would. It was evident he did not realize all that was meant by it. “Can you love Clara under these con T ditions?” asked Mr. Hardy, looking at James with a sympathy that the young man could not help feeling. “Yes, sir; more than ever. Why, is she not more in need of it than ever?” “True, but what can you do with a helpless creature like that?” “Gold help us. sir! If *Ue were my wife now ana were dependent on me, don’t you think 1 could care for her tenderly, better than any one else In the world?” Mr. Hardy shook his head. “This is a hard blow to me, James. I don’t know Just what to say yet. But it is possible the poor girl may not have to suffer all that. Let us hope the doctor Is not Justified in his supposition. Indeed, he said he could not tell for certain that loss of hearing and speech would follow. If It does, 1 cannot see how Clara can retain her reason when* she recovers from the shock. James, I believe you are a good fellow. I have not forgotten my own courtship. I will not stand in the way between you and your love for Clara In anything right and reasonable. I had hoped we might have a good talk together over the matter. This accident has made it impossible for a time at least, but I confide in you as an honest, true man. We must wait for events to take shape. Meanwhile let us pray God to give us wisdom and lead us into the way we need to go.” James Caxton listened to Mr. Hardy with a feeling of astonishment. This was not the Robert Hardy he had known all his life; this was a new man. For a moment his own hopes and fears were almost lost sight of in the thought of the great change in the elder man. In a tumult of feeling he went home after begging Mrs. Hardy to send him word If Clara became worse or if there were any service he could render the family. Robert went back up stairs, where his wife sat by the side of the injured girl. “Mary,” he said, “I must go down to the shops. You know 1 left word with Wellman to do what he could in the office until I could get down, but this accident has made it imperative that 1 be there myself. There are details the men cannot attend to. I cannot do any more here, and I must do what I eau for the sufferers. God has been merciful to us, dear. Our dear ones are spared to us. Oh, when I heard Bessie’s voice in that hell’s pit it seemed to me God was taking pity on me for the burden I am carrying this week! And if she had been killed I do believe I should have gone mad. Pray for me, sweetheart!”

And with a kiss and embrace Robert left the house, and even in the sorrow of all her trouble Mrs. Hardy felt a great wave of joy flow through her at the thought of a love come back to her, aud as she went to the window and watched the, tall, strong figure swing down the street she almost felt a girl again and wondered If he would turn around and see her there and toss his hat to her as In the old days. Yes; just before he reached the corner where he had to turn'he looked back up at the window, saw his wife standing there and took off his hat, with a smile, and she waved her hand at him and colored as when her Robert used to do the same thing while he was courting her. “Two fools!” somebody says. Yes; two children of God who have seen his face and learned what all this life means. He found much to do at the shops. The accident necessitated special work. It looked to him as if he must be down there all day. There was almost a panic In the placing rooms. The air was heavy with the horrhr of the night before. Owing to the wreck there was more need of work In the shops than ever, but along toward noon Borns came Into the office, pulling a long face and asking Mr. Hardy to step across the yard and talk to the men, who had threatened, Burns said, to do mischief If they were not given the afternoon to go down to the scene of the disaster. Mr. Hardy, with a sinking heart, rose and followed Burns into the’planing rooms. He told the foreman to get the men together in the center of the room. They stopped their machines and gathered in the largest open space between' the planers, and Mr. Hardy addressed them: "What do you want? Burns tells me there is dissatisfaction. Speak out so that we may know what the trouble

There was an awkward pause. Then one man spoke up: **•>'* , think the company ought to glv# us the day off.” “What for?” asked Mr. Hardy mildly. Under any other circumstances he would have told the men they might leave for good If they didn’t like the pay and the company. He had done just that thing twice before, but things were different now. He looked at the men In a new light. He was a new man himself. Besides, it was imperative that the work In the shops go on. The company could 111 afford to lose the work just at this particular time. All these considerations did not blind Robert to his obligations as an officer of the company. He was only anxious that no injustice should be done; so be said, “W’hat for?” mildly and quietly and waited for an answer. The spokesman was not quite ready with an answer. The directness ctf the question and the mildness of It also surprised him. Another man spoke up: “Our friends were in the accident. We want to go see them.” “Very well. How many men had relatives or friends In the accident who are injured or killed? Let them step forward.” — : r — • There was a moment of inaction. Then three men stepped out. Mr. Har-

dy said: “You may go If you want to. Why didn’t you ask for leave off if you wanted It? What reason have you to suppose the company would refuse such a request? Now, what Is the trouble with the rest? The company Is not in a position to grant a holiday at this particular time, and you know it. Come, be fair, men! I can’t shut down the shops all day to let you go and see a railroad wreck. Be reasonable! What do you want?” “We want more pay and freedom from Sunday work,” said a big fellow, the Norwegian who ran the biggest planer in the shop. He had more than once proved troublesome to Burns, but he was a remarkably intelligent and skillful workman, and the foreman had endured much irritation on that account. Mr. Hardy replied, still speaking pleasantly, “The matter of more pay Is one we cannot well discuss here now, but I will say to you and all the rest that as fy as It is in my power there shall be no more Sunday work demanded”—“while I live,” Mr. Hardy was on the point of saying, but he said Instead, “of the men in the shops.” “Still, that Is not the question,” replied the man in an Insolent tone. Mr. Hardy looked at him more closely and saw that he had been drinking. Several of the workmen cried out: “Shut up, Herman! Mr. Hardy be right! We be fools to make row now at this time!’' A dozen men started for their machines to go to work again, while Burns went up and laid his hand on the Norwegian’s arm and said to him roughly: "Quit off now. You’ve been dipping that beard of yours into a whisky barrel. -Better mind your pegs or you get your walking papers.” “Mind your own, Burns,” replied the big man heavily. “You be somethings of a beard drinker yourself if you had the beard.” Burus was so enraged at the drunken retort that he drew back as If to strike the man, when the Norwegian Bmote the foreman a blow that laid him sprawling In the iron dust. Instantly Mr. Hardy stepped up between the two men before Burns could rise. We have spoken of Robert’s* Intense horror of the coarse physical vices. It seemed totally wrong to him that a workman should degrade himself with drink. Besides, he could not tolerate such actions In the shops. He looked the drunken man In the face and said sternly: “You are discharged! I cannot afford to employ drunken men in these shops. You may go this Instant.” The man leered at Mr. Hardy, raised his arm as If to strike, while the manager confronted him with a stern look, but before he could do any harm two or three of seized him and hustled him back to the other end of the shops, while Burns rose, vowing vengeance. The men went back to their machines, and Mr. Hardy, with an anxious feeling of'heart, went back Into the office, satisfied that there would be no trouble at the shops for the rest of the day at least. He felt sorry that he had been obliged to dlscharge*Herman, but he felt that he bad done the right thing. The company could not afford in any way to employ men who were drunkards, especially not just at this time, when It began to be more than plainly hinted that the result of the accident on the road was duetto the partial intoxication of a track inapector. That accident was a complication in Robert Hardy's seven days. * It was demanding of him precious Jtime that ha longed to spend In hls*famlly. At one tune in the afternoon as he worked at tixs Haroy -was temped to resign pis position luid go borne, come

what might But, to his credit be it said, even In his most selfish moments formerly he had been faithful to his duties at the office. At present no one could take his place at once. He felt that hie duty to the company and to the public demanded his services at the time of a crisis in railroad matters. So he rteid and worked on, praying as he worked for his dear ones and hoping, as no bad news came from home, that Clara was better. He had been to the telephone several times and hpU tx on or thcoA short talks wltt} his fTO BB COWTIITOED.*

"Oh, she is dead!"

Instantly Mr. Hardy stepped up between the two men before Burns could rise.