Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 15, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 September 1877 — Page 6

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THE MAIL

PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

FISHERS, OF MSN.

Down the calm river they leisurely floated There. In a nook that w»shady ana 0001, "They brought out their line#, and their hooka were oil coated

With bait, well adapted the fishes to fool.

filabel vnu with them, and Urate and Laura, Maidens light-hearted, and merry and fair 'Eacb bestowed smiles on her favorite adorer.

Destined, perchance, to foil into her snare.

^Idly they played wl'h their lines in (he

•,'•£ Little thev cared though no flsh shcnld be jijs caught "Tondly each hoped that the fates would deliver

Into her keeping the lover she sought. Lightly they ta'ked upon themes with which Cupid

Had lavishly filled both their hearts and their brains, And laughingly said that the men were all stupid,

The while they were artfully weaving their chain*-. The day paused away, and the fishing was ended

Plcaapd with themselves the fair innonta looked: They gtusc.1 on their victims, and each comprehended

The flsh she had angled so far was hooked.

Then back to the town the young men rowt-d lightly. Their bast ets all empty—that fishing was

While on each other the maidens smiled bright The flsher* of men had won at their game.

[From iJcribner'a—October.)

JUNE CHANTRY.

He went along the village street in the still, mellow glow of the October afternoon. And as he walked, all the beauty and serenity, the grace and color and tenderness of the time,took personified shape in his mind and then, as if his thought had projected itself upon the scene, put on bodily presence before Ills eyes and came toward bim along the path. He lingered and watched her coming, feeling the dusky sunshine .grow hot on his cheeks. He was not a backward fellow usually though reserved with most people, he was apt to be rather incisive when he did speak, and was sometimes even strenuous in support of his very decided opinions.

But at sight of this fair, fragile girl, a

ger

reat timidity overcame him and he met with a «hy smile, putting out his hand. ..

Good-afternoon," be said. It a a beautiful day for walking, don't you think so?'

Yes,' she answered in a voice clear but very light, with the thrilling quality of a violin string across which the bow is drawn slowly and steadily.

a very lovoly uajThen, as if something in bis manner suggested the question,'

Were you going to stop at our house Yes,' he answered. I was thinking of it. Are yon going far? Should I bo In the way if I came with you

He smilod, and a sudden gentle playfulness, characteristic of her, broke out in her face and voice.

Not if you keep your own side of the

fiath,'

*t-

she said. Then she added seriousy, though the Inward laughter still lingered in a certain deepening and rich

ness

of her light tones, I should like you to come. I was going to see my friend Annie I^andretb, but I can go home now and see Annie again.' oh no,' he replied JI was going to ask you to go out. It is too fine to stay iu-doors.'

So they strolled along, chatting lightly, looking at a tree on fire with autumn's red and yellow flames or the llood ofgold poured over Hold and hillBide. lie paused and looked down a lane that led to the river. •I'm envious of Miss Anna, do you know?' he said, smiling but plainly meaning it. I was going to ask you to pome out on the river. It's such a day as we may not again, and I have to go to court to morrow.'

Well, I think Annie would survive if she did not see me till to-morrow,' she replied, tho inward laughter welling up in her voice and eyes again. The river looks very tempting don't plead too hard unless you really feel the envy you affect.'

He laughed a pleased, low laugh. Come, then,'ne said, but added with a change of voice and face, It was no affectation, though I wouldn't change places with many people this afternoon.'

She glanced up at him without any sign of displeasure, but interposed a gentle banter to that strain.

You're rehearsing your part for tomorrow now. You will be assuring the butchers aud oystermen on the jury of your distinguished regard and confidence, and draw tears to their eyes with your unaffected horror at the fellows on the other side.'

So, while they strolled down toward nnd along the river bank and embarked in the pretty skiff,—while he pulled nlowly up among the bills and she watched the sliding, enchanted picture over which tbe warm base cast a glamour and the sunlight and glowing foliage a glory of color,—while the ourrent lapped low on the shore and bubbled musically against the prow,—while they floated down again toward the village as the Mm sink behind the illumined hill, lie talked to make her talk, listened to the vibrant sweetness of her gentle tones and watched the play of color and exprcssion in her pure, sjvakim face, and Bby, cal-n eves. He lelt thai she was

.ily through

td its shiuing pathway across the flood to bt-r and transfigured her for a moment, making her hair a balo and her JTace as it were a flame, it seemed to him like an attestation of his feeling that she was no creature of the cdmmou earth but of some divine race. That feeling was B»rosi: upon him and made him silent as he regretfully drew the boat to shore and helped her to lat'd. Apparently to break the spell, as they walked

away she asked him about his cases at the court, and he told her of one in which he wai to appear tor a poor widow. He grew warm In the narration and by the time it was finished they were at the gate, He opened it for her*but lingered.

You donH think a lawyer's enthusiasm is always insincere?' he queried.

Your jibe a while ago was not all true?' Oh, I'm only a woman, you know', Hbo returned.the Inward laughter swelling again in her throat. You don't xspect reasonableness in a woman, do you

He laughed softly. Only a woman he answered.

(Do

you know I was thinking, when the unaset shone on you down there, that vou looked like something Knar*?' It* Oh,' she returned, with the samo still laughter, 'you were very much mtataken then 11- nld want much more thanking? f( 'b*V Then she sobered

suddenly. But you don't think I question your sincerety in yonr case. I should like to hear you 'judge the fatherless and plead for the widow/* She gave him ner band and said 'Goodnight.'

He held it a moment. Good-night,' be said, adding, with an only partly sucueeafut attempt to speak, light]v, must come to

good.

Yes, its

The longest excursion an enti, and the be*t

friends must part To meet again,' she answered. Auf vricderschen /'and then she was gone.

The enchanted, brlof afternoon had already turned to dusk' but, as he went his way, her light, pathetic,happy tones sounded and sounded still, and the light of her oountenance pieroed the gloom with tho radiant brightness of morning.

This young lawyer, Gilbert Davney, was not so fond of June Chantry's father as he was of June. Rockville Chantry the Hon. Rockville Chantry,' as the county papers styled him—was a large smooih-fjci-u, pleasant spoken, shining gentleman, with a band and word ana smile for all comers. He was very pop ular some of the first ladies said he was tbo only gentleman In the place. As may have been inferred, be had represented bis district in the legislature, and wi»sa very public spirited citizen. In the minds of the patriotic gentlemen who devoted their lives to the salvation of the country and tbe service of the people, bis opinions carried weight, and be was, indeed, oounrnonly spoken of among them by the endearing diminutive of' Rock' Chautry. But, strange as it may seem, Davney did not like nini. He naturally wanted to be friendly with June's father, and was scrupulously polite to him, but the .politician's effusive kindness always seemed to freeze up his gentle feeling and make him cold and still. Nevertheless, there was one thing about bim that Davney wa quite sure was deep and sincere, and that was his love for June. He had brought her to Riverloop a mere child, and there were no more of their name in that region. All that was good in him wont out to his gentle, unworldly daughter, and there was no reserve in her return. To her, and for her, be was another man than the one all the world saw. There was nothing he would not, and did not, do for her but part with her. He had even dared unpopularity in endeavors to establish a good school in tbe town in order that June might be educated at home. He had not aiwavs thriven, but she never knew want. She had grown up with tbe best that money ooula buy, and it never occurred to her to ask where the money came from. Other people asked behind his back who were very polite to his fac&, but June knew only tbe side of him that ne one else saw. Davney used to ask himself how suob a daughter came of such a father. Her instincts were all so true and fine, her Intelligence so keen, her appreciation of humor exceptional in her sex and, withal, she was so modest and so

He wondered what her mother ad been like June had told him once that she named her from the month in wblch she was born.

Davney went to the court-town of Hillsfield, across the county, tbe next morning. The case that occupied most of his attention was the one of which he bad told June. A stock company, called the4 High Rock Water-power Association,' had been organized in Riverloop some years before, in which some of ihtf best men had taken shares, and Davney'sclient, a soldier's widow, had been induced to invest her liitle fortune. After a very fair apparont success for a year or two, one of the managers bad absconded one night, and investigation showed that tbe concern was bankrupt and deeply in debt. What had become of the money had never been clearly made out but tbe result was that, in addition to the loss of the invested capital, a suit had been brought against the stockholders, which most of them had preferred to compromise. But this widow, having nothing left but a cot tage and gardeu.was likely to be turned into the street with her children. Much sympathy was felt for her in Riverloop, and Mr. Chantry had been active in pro moting a subscription to pay Davney to defend her. Davney had fgot the case put over oue term. He nad satisfied himself that the whole a&air was an organized fraud, to which tbe sueing cred* itors were parties, but he had failed to find preof. There were many little circumstances, uone of which amounted to legal evidence, but which all fitted into one another, and wanted but a central link to unite them, which he had oome upon in working up the case, but which would go tor nothing as the matter stood. On, this Tuesday morning, then, he was sitting in tbe court-room, going over these indications in bis mind for tho hundredth time rather despondently, for tbe case was coming on to-mor-row. All the clues, as he followed them one by one, seemed to center upon a man named Raines who had beenin tbe employ of the High Rock Company. He was more sure than ever that this man could clear up the whole black business if he would. Raising his eyes, then, who's should he meot watching him from among tbe audience but those of tae man in his mind. Wbert tbe oourt adjourned, bo went among tbe lawyers and jurors from Riverloop, but uo one knew or any business Raines had there. When the court was asaembl.ng again, Davney spoke with tbe sheriff a minute or two, turned and saw Raines watching them.

Sheriff, I wish you'd keep an eye on that man this afternoon,' be said. He managed to get live minutes talk with the district attorney. As Raines was going into a hotel that evening,Davney touched bis shoulder.

I want to see you a minnte. Oom«ln here' Whin they were in a private room, Davney locked tbe door.

Now then,' he said, his voice deep and strong,with abhorrence,' you know all ahuut this damnable High flock businoss. 1 know that tbo whole thing is a conspiracy to defraud. I mean to make it hot lor the whole gang. Tho best thing you can do is to save yourself hlle you've got the chance.'

The fellow tried to brass it out, but tUvnoy's 11 rano took him off his feet. He fell into a chair and could not say a wjrd.

Dovuey threw him a paper and bade him rf Jul it. It was a guaranty that be should not be proeecuted if he gave snoh evidence as would convict tbe other conspirators.

You give me your word of honor that this paper will clear me if 1 show the thing up asked Rainea.

Of course that is the district attorney's signature. Then I throw up my hand.' be answered. 'They'd sell me out cheap.' He put the paper carefully away.

Davney quea him doaely and from him. He aaid, icre's been one hand on the tiller of this thing all through I want to know whose it is Who was your bead man?*

The answer was—'Rock Chantry.' •Rock Chantry!* Davney repeated slowly. He sat down and turned white and weak. HJo out now,' he said, 'k this quiet be 00 hand to-morrow, try any tricks. You're watched.*

Ho lacked tbe fellow out. He felt as

W&.'S

WJDuty?

TERRE TTA17TE SATURDAY EV JENTB

if, riding in full career, he had been flung against an unaeeii wall. He was brnlaed from face to feet. Her father, her father 1* waa all he oonld aay. An hour ago he had been so strong be bad always felt such oontempt for people wlthont courage of their opiniona, such aoorn of the mercantile principle that business men oannot afford to take aides he had preached that he waa unworthy tbe name of man who oould not put aalde hia own lutereat and do the rignt, let what would oome. He had been proudly confident tbathe could despise considerations of ease, or fortune, or reputation for conscience' sake bad sometimes felt tbe ardor and exaltation of them that oourt death for honor, for country for love. Yes, be had longed for a chance to prov« to June that chivalry was not dead. Where waa his

nide now his scorn and despite Low tbe dust. Then began that oonfliot between settled convictions that have become habitual, and assaulting, clamorous, passionate desires and fears, that will rise and wago in the man whose fate leads him unsuspecting to such a dividing of tbe

It was no such simple matter.

Did be owe no duty to this girl—this tender, spotless,compassionate creature? Could it ne any man's duty to strike her for another woman's sake, much less he of all tbe world Had he aright to do evil that good might come? Could there be any justice in destroying her life and his own to keep a roof over this woman's bead? It was preposterous it waa monstrous. He would sleep under a haystack all his life long to prevent sudh misery. Crowding suggestions, sophistries, regretA and resentment* were followed by more and more cowardly whisperings, wbicb, for a while, held entire possession of bim. It could yet be bushed up. Raines had confessed to noone'but him bis fears could be allayed. The people would not let Mrs. Tiernan suffer be would take it upon himself to see that they did not he would deny himself to help her, and save money to buy back ber house. Then he suddenly remembered seeing Cnantry himaeit going about with a subscription-paper in the same behalf: and at sight of that reflection of ail the wretcheddeceit and subterfuge in which ho thought to plunge beyond return^ he turned with fear and loathing, rose up and went out, and sought tbe judge. •Judge Mandred,' said Davney, 'I have a case coming on before you tomorrow. I have just discovered evidence which involve* persons whom I cannot expose.'

The judge extracted tbe general facts with a few sharp questions. And who is tbe head deyil

Rockville Chantry.' Tbe judge expressed a very frank and forcible disgust.

And do you want to shield such a scoundrel? Is he any relative of yours?'

Davney flushed aud was silent a moment.

want to shield no scoundrel he is no kin of mine. But he has a daughter yery unlike him.'

The judge sat facing him a minute, stern and silent.turned away and smoked awhile in abstraction. Then be turned back and said:

Some one baa got to do this you can't have another adjournment. If you bad time to coach other counsel, you would only be doing it with another man's hand. It would do Chantry no good nor you they know it is your case, and any one else would give him a rougher handling than you would be likely to. But I leave it to yourself is there any one else who knows tbe case well enough to do yonr clientgJustice?' 7

Davney's head fell. He rose slowly and turned away. The judge came over aud opened the door for him. .His face remained stern, but he gave his hand.

Good night, Mr. Davney,* he said. I'm sorry I can't serve you but I must do my duty, and you must do yours.'

Thank you,' he replied, and came away. Already it waa nine o'clock at night. In fifteen or sixteen hours the case would be called. He heard tbe droning call of tbe clerk, the sharp unsympathizing voice of tbe judge, the pleas of council, his own turn eoming on remorselessly. He knew now what those sounds must UKan to the quaking criminal. It was impossible human fortitude was unequal to such astrain. Yet, again, he was counting tbe hours,—fifteen No, only twelve! Not twelve! He bowed hia bead and groaned. It oould not be: it was more than strength could bear. Yet he counted the hours. He was capable of no resolve, no courago. The pleroing keenness of his anguish was the instinctive feeling tbat it waa inevitable. He made no motion toward it alt his soul turned from it, sickening. Yet he felt it, saw it coming, already so near, coming with the terrible, unhastening swiftness of doom. He knew he should do it,thougL he felt that he could not.

The time was ao abort, and one of the hours fast slipping away! He wished be could bola them back then be felt his helplessness, his utter impotence bow could he hold the world? Yes,that was it: it was the world against, one man. There waa no staying It, no resistance, no escape.

And enly yesterday—at tbe word there leaped out of tho darkness the pure, sweet, «aint-llke face, kindled as with tbe glory of heaven by tbe sunset fires, and Age great wavq of yearning awent hiitvBMald her, body and soul. He must go to her, now, to night once more before it was impossible. Means and distance were of no account he bad started to walk tbe twepty miles before be thought. There was no train he ran in search of a horse, found one, mounted as ho was and rode away.

He ok the nearest road across the rugged bills. Tbe day had been overcast, tbe night was dark and growing chill, tbe winds wandering dismally, and scattering the tailing and fallen leaves for him the night waa nothing he galloped up bill ana down, mile after mile, steeped in one long dream. It was broad afternoon, still, warm, effulgent peace and beauty and happiness 011 field and river June Chantry, the center,tbe breadth and helghth,tho light and sweetness of all. He saw her every look, and smile, and flush her features, ber attitudes, ber walk, her pretty hand training In the water.her eyes reflecting the glowing scene. He beard her every wora again «nd the welling, subdued laughter felt tbe touch of ber band and ber weight thrown modestly, trustfully upon him, as he helped her from the boat. It was nearly one when he rode into Riverloop village, dark and asleep.

Tbe Chantry house was black under tbe ahadow of its trees whose crisping leaves rustling dismally in tbe raw wind, as he rode by to pat up his tone. He name back up the street, there was no one abroad it bad been spitting at intervals since midnight, and now it waa snowing. He waa loth to alarm tbe bouse, but he had BO time to waste. Fortunately, no one beard tbe bell but June. She turned the blinds and lookep out. bavoey spoke to her from below

Is: that you Jsite Wi5l yo%. pleawe comedown t'.

minute before she answerMy father

It was a

ed: Has —la be sick, or hurt.

He felt tbe cold at bla heart and a sudden sense of faintness, and hia voice turned hard.

No he'a well. I saw bim In court.* She came down presently and opened tbe door to him. The wind blew out ber light be atepned In and quiokly closed

Ana. in

tbe door. in so doing, he

seemed to

shut out all thai was desolate and fear' fill and witbil| with ber, was a heavenly peace. The firelight touched ber face and hair with its ruddy glow gently and silently she moved about, auating the snow from bis clothes, drawing a chair to tbo fire and kneeling to make it burn, making bim oome and sit down, doing with him as she would by a touch or a sign. Au overpowering yearning and tenderness crept upon him as she stnou beside bim then, with one little hand on the arm or his chair, and looking wistfully, confidingly in his face be felt as if all the good and order of tbe world were in that (ire lit room.

She spoke low with tbe vlbratiou of restrained anxiety in ber light voice.

Have you come far?—from Hillsfield Is there a night train

came on horsebaok,' be said. I have to go back by morning.' Hor eyes but ritot her lips asked more. He took ber band aud held it bowing bis bead. 'June,' be said, 'you are so good to roe, and I am in such trouble tbat I can't tell what I may bay to you. Will you please not to mind nor answer. I do not assume anything I know you are good to all, and I will not misconstrue your kindness or your silence. I am afraid I ought not to bave come tonight, and I know I have no right to speak to you. I would not hurt or trouble you for a great deal but I can't do what I ought to-nigbt. I can't be sure of what I may be led to say but, for both our sakes, you must not let anv kindness or compassion you may feel, lead you to respond and I could not bear any cross or denial from on now.'

He was silent a moment, and June gazed at hiin in steadfast, wondering concern.

Yesterday,' he went on,' I thought there was nothing in tbe woild that could make me hurt or vex yon, and now my very coming must alarm you, and I cannot even tell you why I came.'

Her look of anxious inquiry merged into one of confused pain and she dropped ber eyes awhile. Then she looked up and said with a mild, kind, steady, low voice, 'Can you not trust me You should not doubt my friendship. I am sure I would do anything I could to help you.'

Oh no, June,' he answered,' I don't doubt you. If I doubted you I should believe in nothing else. I am sorry I vex you, but I can't help it I ought not to have come, but I could not stay away. I may never be able to come to see you after to-night.'

The glow of tbe firelight on her cheek could not bide her sudden pallor. 'Are you in danger?' she asked huskily.

No, not of bodily harm.* Then with sudden eagerness,

wish I were! I

wish it was war. To marob out with drum and banner and fight for country or freedom, or for your sake—that would be joy!' He stretched up his arms.

She stood straight before bim, ber eyes kindled and cheeks flushed, and an ardent tremor in her heightened voice, and she answered:

And sbonld I hold you back! Has no woman died for her oountry Have not women sent away sons ana brothers to battle, and borne dread and suspense worse than death She reached out ber hands and he took and held them. 'Iknow, I know!' be responded. 'I have often thought of it. The woman's is tbe harder part to wait on the shore and watch and listen is a hundred times worse than to be out amid wind and waves. I have often thought of it. But there are worse things in the world than I ever conceived, things so bad tbat worse and better mean nothing.'

But she held to her own high strain: I don't care tbe greater the trouble, the greater tbe reason we should help one another. I don't ask you to tell me what it is, you know best about that. But you bave no right to close my moutb. If you come to me in great trouble and say such things to me, you have no right to forbid me to answer. I will speak you shall not come and give me such love and honor and go away to struggle and suffer without knowing that you take mine with you.'

He drew ber to bim and laid her cheek against his own. An unspeakable bliss flooded over him and drownbd pain and fear for a time.

Dear June, you are very good to me.

But quickly a sharp thing in his throat, and lp bowed bis face upon his breast. 'Ob, June, you don't know what you do. I nave no right to let you. I baa no tight to come.'

She stood up with a tremulous reproachful face. Oh, why do you speak so If I were in trouble or danger, you would desire nothing better than to take my part. Can you not believe tbat of me Whatever it Is, hardship, sorrow, disgrace, I claim my share, rm not sfraid. I want no better lot than to share your good and evil. Do you not care for that?*

Care Yes. more than for the hope of heaven. Yes, you will share It all/ Tnere was a great bitterness in the last words. But there came, a auddeu reaction—a rebound of his crushed spirit. He straightened up. His voice took on its habitual depth and atrengtb, and more he bent his head and spoke teu^'"jiever'mind, never mind I Why do I vex you? Why should wo fret for to-morrow To-night is ours to-mor-row is in God's bands.' (Tbo thought went through his heart tbat already it was to-day. But be would not regard it.) Let us be happy to-night! Why should I not? There is nothing outside this room I would take in exchange. Help me, June, help me to be thankful for to-nigbt, and trust God for to-mor-row I'

Yes, yes,'—her voice and face were suffused and ber eyes full,—4 He bas been very good to us, and shall we not bear what He lays upon us—' Though he alay me, yet will I trust In him.' 80 they comforted one another, and shut themselves in with their great new happiness, hemmed round and pressed upon by crowding, dread and foreboding. And tbe hurrying minutes counted out the bitterly grudged boun: and before they thought! the dim and cheerless dawn looked in upon them and chilled their hearts.

June went and looked out and came back thivering. 'It's snowing and wild,* she said. 'The ground is all white. You must not go in such a storm. Wont you wait for the train?*

Oh, no, that is nothing. I must go it is time 1 were on tb« road.* fiat he did not move. A great weskneesoveifcame bim and be sat very still. His food was bent from her, but sbe

saw. Sbe stood beside bim and looked at him with a strong, still, eager in-

""•Vou

wont go away without letting me

know how to sympathize with you? You will trust me you're not afraid, to trust me? Have'nt I aright to know now?'

It is the case I told you of last—last— night before last. I have found out what I suspected and it comes very near home. Dear June, don't ask me any more it would be like suffering it twioe.' 'Never mind, then,' she answered, downcast.

He bent down to ber, and oould not rise or speak distinctly for a little while. Wben he oould speak, he said only' God bless you I Good bye!'

And be tore biaiself away Then he was in tbe saddle again, and ere yet it was fairly light be waa gauoping out among tbe barren bills where there was not a bouse for miles. He was whitened with tbe sleet tbat beat in hi* face, but he hardly knew more than he cared. Great tides of passion swept through bim to aud fro. Now it was the thought of June that filled him with fierce joy, and he stood and leaned in hid stirrups, letting the rein swing, and dashing into tbe storm—and snouted and laughed like the neighing of horses in battle. But close on to the heels of Joy trod the thought of what waa liefore him, and wrung him with anguish and dread till he sobbed and cried aloud amid the tempest as madly as be bad re* joiced. It was impossible it was impossible be could not be would not it was not in man! And ail the while, though he wept and shrank and refused be never drew rein, but was riding, riding hard through wind aud sleet, up hill and down, mile after mile, tbat he might not be late!

The court bouse bell was ringing as he rode into Hillsfield there bad been no snow fall here. Ever aince then, when be hears ol tbe Judgment Day, be thinks of tbat black morning and that jangling bell tbe town seemed to rook to and fro witb tbe discordant clang-elang, clang-clang. ,,,

Tbe judge bad 'been less genial than usual this morning had barulv noticed the group of lawyers chatting amicably preparatory to their professional battles, and sat apart, looking forbidding enough. When the clock pointed to nine, he stepped over and spoke to the clerk, and still did not mount the bench. Wondering eyes began to glance from tbe clock to the most punctual judge. At ten minutes past, Davney came in, bent and old, pale, unwashed, disheveled, bis clotbrs and liair crusted white with sleet and snow. He spoke to 110 one, though all eyes turned upon him, and silence fell upon tbe room. He looked round the bouse and saw that Raines was present. Tbe judge immediately got up when he saw him, and came over to him. ,.

4Good

morning, Mr. Davney,' he said.

•We're waiting for you. You've been where there's snow, I see. Hers Rugoies» he called au officer—'take Mr. Davney's coat and shake It. Your case will be called at once I suppose you'd like to bave it over?'

Yes, sir, if you please.'., Court was opened 'Venable versus Tiernan' called, a jury chosen, Davney onlv challer.ging one or two men peremptorily. Tbe plaintiffs stated tueir case, anil proved it by witnesses and documents The news was abroad tbat the High Rock case was on, and of Davney's strange appearance, and tbe house soon filled. Chantry was there, bland and broadclothed, whisporing busily wltli the county treasurer.

Davney rose slowly and began to

.«• II I.i t- Jkn) i4ta.

than any oratorical display. There was no whispering now all eyes and ears were bent.

He said he had littlo to do witb tbe formal case presented by the plaintiffs care bad been taken that it should be regular and complete. Tbe defense he should put in was simply that tbe entire enterprise, from its inception to tbe present time—tho incorporation, the management, the defalcation, tho bankruptcy, the projecution of tbe stock holders—bed been one ingenious, continuous and remorseless conspiracy and robbery. He called Jeremiah Raines. He elicited from bim the infamous narrative, and the authorship and meaning of the papers ho bad supplied. Instinctively be had kept back as long as possible a certain name, but be could not have contrived any way to give it greater emphasis, for tho audlenco were wrought up beforehand, not only to a deep abhorrence but to eager expectation and when the well known name of Rockville Chantry came from tbe witness at last, a moment of unbroken silonce followed, succeeded by a burst of fierce hisses. Then there was sudden bustle behind Davney, and he turned mechanically. The people about Chanty ry rose with a common feeling and drew from him, and, as Davney turned, tbeir eyes met. For minute they looked at one another with equally pallid faces tbe one. stolid, haggard expressionless the other, an embodiment of hate and fear. The judge commanded silence, and ins lew, clear, peremptory tone: •Mr. Davney, proceed.' 'That is all,' said Davney, and sat down.

Raines having been cross examined, Davney callea some prominent men to testify to signatures, and rested his

The judge examined the papers, passed them to tbe jury, and said:

4This

case need go no further I direct

the jury to find for tbe defendant. What do you say, gentlemen?* The jurymen whispered together. 'For the defendant,' said the foreman,

Tbe court ordered judgment with costs and additional allowance, and called tbe next case.

Davney found bis way out and to bis hotel, fell on the bed, and slept heavily for hours. Then be got up and washed and dressed himself: He took tbe afternoon train for Riverloop. Chantry was on the Bame train. The news had reached Riverloop, and flown from moutb to mouth. There was not a house in the village it had not entered, save one. In stores and on tbe streets knots of men gathered and talked excitedly, and there was no division of opinion. A crowd collected at tbe station at dusk to await tbe train. As Cbantry got down, some rough fellows stood in bis way. He bsd regained apart of his habitual assurance, and be exclaimed, with exagrated urbanity and a very persuasive inch: •Make room, gentlemen let me pass on.'

But tbey stood their ground, and the fellow whom be bad touched asked, sulkily and profanely, who he was a sbovin*. He found the way blocked wherever be turned, ami by the time he got off the platform he was badly rumpled. 'High Rock! High Rock!' began to be shouted. Then, 'High Rock Chantry!' Something knocked off his shining high hat, and ft was immediately kicked about with hoarse and derisive cries and laughter.

A little further on beenwrged Into a

lighted place, bareheaded and ooatleas, very badly pelted and buffeted. Suddenly Davney appeared by his side, and the crowd fell back. Someone called °D'Bavney! Davney! Three cheers for Gil Davney!' 'Keep off now,' Davney shouted.

He waved them away, and walked on, beside

Cbantry

without looking at him

or speaking. A mob of boys and loafers followed, booting, but no more molestation was offered. They reached Chantry's door. Chantry went in, and Davney stood on tho threshold. June stood inside in the full glare of the lamps, motionless and speechless, bereyes upon her father, and her look made Davney feel as If he were iu hell.

Tbe battered man turned on him and. cursed bim, and tried to force tiie door upon bim. lie paid no heed, only barred the door with bis body, and called to hen 'June! June!'

All things swam before June, and she turned about unconsciously but it seemed to Davney that heaven and earth turned tbeir backs upon him, and with, oue loud sob be wheeled away, and Cbantry locked him out.

Chautty turned and spoke to June, as he never bad before. Sne could not answer sbe trembled as though at the

Eer

oint of dissolution. Tbat could not be father—that shaken, battered, wildhaired, bent old man with the dark face and blasphemous tongue! She shrank from him into a corner, and he turned, bis back and sat bowed before the fire. A dreadful sllenoe followed, and lasted, a good while. Then suddenly the father body heaved he lilted himself, covered his faoe, and began to sob. Swift as a bird, then, tbo girl came fluttering, to him and threw her arms about his neck. The fountains of tbe hard man's nature, that only she htd kept from drying up, broke forth and he wept like a an •Ob, June,' he complained, 'to think tbat you

should

turn against me! You

were all that I had I did everything for yon I never let you want for anythii I bave been troubled many a day to

were an iu« 1 rou I never let you want for anything. I bave been troubled many a day to know how to make my way, and I never showed you an anxious face or denied you anything. Whatever I have done was for your sake I should never have oome to this but for you. And now wben the whole world turns upon me you take sides witb tbem and shrink 4 from me you choose between me and ., tbe man who bas put me to shame. Go away you aro no daughter, but an ungrateful girl.' ,,

She clung to him, though his words beat ber like murderous blows. 'Ob, stop, father!' she cried hoarsely. •You are mistaken you don't know I will not go away lam your daughter: nothing shall separate UJ. Oh, why did you not let me know? I would haveg^l worked I would have suffered anything. How could I know you should bave told me. I would bave shared want*. or trouble with you gladly and then worse would not bave oome. But, never mind it has come now, and we will share it together. We will give up everything and go away. I can teach or sew, a in

He raised bis face and looked into 1 hers. He spoke to ber once more and sbe answered. Then she lay like death, upon bis breast a good while. Flnallv sbe got up, brought a basin, washed his face and smoothed his hair, and made him clothe himself. She set out the supper that had been awaiting bim andj made him sit down to it, though sbe tottered now and tbeu aa she wont and could not speak. Then she put on he hat aud cloak and wont out, saying only: '1 will be back soon.'

How sbe went, hurried and shrinking through tbe dark streets, and the more dreaded lighted places with tbeir groups of excited men, she hardly knew but she came to Davney's door and rang timidly. His sister Grace let her in. She asked^ lor bim, and tbe elder lady regarded her with a grave tenderness and drew her gently toward her. 'Come in, June,' she said softly. 'Gilbert is lying down be is ill to-nigbt, but' he will come down to you.'

Sbe lingered a moment when June was seated. .. 'Can I do anything for you, doai? If should be glad.'

Tbe tears quickly sprang to June's dryr eyes. She pressed tbem against the" kind band. l| •Oh, uo, you're very good but you canr do nothing for me. No one can but?_ God.'

Grace soothed her with silent caresses,..: and went lor ber brother. Ho bad beard^ the voice aud got up. Sbe met him in thei ball. 'June,' she said softly, and be went in.

Sbe was sitting still across tbe room, her face in shadow bent upon her band. Ho leaned against tbe closed door, wait-"

^ftesently sbe raised her head and J, looked at bim witb afar off, unearthly gaze, as perchance our dead friends look' at 11s out or heaven. She motioned toward a chair near her and be came slowly .-s over and sat down. Both of them were quite Calm, and wben Davney spoke after a little, bis words, though very low, bsdi.be fall, deep sound of a voice sometimes beard at prayer through cathedral aisles. 'Do you lame me, Jane?' v. 'No. That is what I came to tell you. I could not oome after to night. I havei promised.' ....

right!'

i.'

r1"

He bowed before those unfaltering, words, as they tell us great trees break silently under tbe Sierra suows. But June was immovable, unshaken tbe crushing weight seemed to bave pressed her into tbe ground and fixed ber immovably. SbeSht still. Then she said very slowly, with a hoarse strain In her voice: •Don't do tbat, Gilbert. We bave no time. I must go soon. Tell me what I must do.' ,.

He now sat up slowly, calmed by her calm. •You must take bim away to night,* he said. 'For to morrow may be too^r

She started up. But be suddenly took1? hold of her, impelled by a rush of pas-** slon. 'Oh, June, you muit not go I cannot let you go I can't bear it! It is not

"^fibe began to shake then, but sbe answered with a low but passionate intensity: •Oh yes, it Is right. Tbe Iniquities of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generations I ana his child I cannot escape. He has done': everything for we be has cared for nothing else. He did this for my sake. I have profited by bis sin I must share? the penalty. I cannot escape. I have1 eaten tbe bread of robbery. Her eyes fell upon the ruby ou ber finger. 'See, I have worn furs and jewels tnst belonged to tbe bungryana cold.* Sbe stripped the gold from ber finger, ber wrists, ner neck and breast. She heaped it in his hands. •Take them, tbey burn me! Sell tbem and give tbe money to the rightful owners. I have nothing the clothes I have on are theirs. Oh yes, it is all

There was a strain in ber voloe like a Continued en Seventh Page.]

®I!IS