Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 5, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 July 1886 — Page 2

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THE MAIL:

The next day he hunted up Marcy at the real-estate office which he had opened in the city. He greeted Kean jovially and swung him an arm-chair, but Kean took another. "You were pretty frank last night," he said. "Why didn't you speak a little plainer, and say that I trusted you and you turned out a scoundrel and a thief, and that I ought to have put you in jail?"

Marcy paused a moment in the act of lighting a cigar, but then went on. "No," he puffed, "no I really can't accept your terms. Some fellows would consider your

language

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A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE JULY 24, 1886.

Claiborne Kean,

[Ja*. T. Mckay In the Century-] Kean wan junior editor of a new medical journal, and lived with his older brother, Dr. George, and his wife, Helen. She and her brother-in-law, "Clay," as they called him, were fast friends."

Helen had been a McLean, and had an intimate friend and school-mate, Edith Norris, for whom Kean came in time to entertain something more than a friendly regard. "Things went on smoothly for a time then Kx*an went one evening to call upon Edith, ehorishingcortain pleasant fancies by the way, and found with her an early acquaintance of hers, named Charles Marcy, returned after some years' absence in the West. Edith introduced them, but Kean said coldly that he already had that honor and Marcy greeted him warmly, telling Edith that Kean unci he had been well acquainted in the West, and that Kean had treated him very handsomely, particularly in one affair of which he had no reason to be proud, and in which very few would have shown the generous forbearaneo that Kean had practiced toward him. Keen did not respond to his cordial frankness, but remained distant and cold, and came awav presently in a very different humor from that in which he had gone.

impolite. You

-ought to study drawing it mild, xuatnter in modo. you know. Hut I tm frank, and I acknowledge I owe you a balance, and let this go on the account." "You know you are no fit company for Miss NqfRia1""Kean persisted roughly "and I wuMl to know whether or not you propose to make it necessary for me to oxposeyou." "Well, I'm not making proposals at present, but I'm frank to allow that I'm not entirely up to her high-water mark do you happen to know any young man that is? I look at it from the other side, vousee

I'm quito aware that I'll bear

moral elevating, liko most human people I've met, and agree with Mills doctrine (isn't it Mill's?)—1'enlightened self-interest,'—vou reinombor. Most people do, I believe. As to exposing me, ns vou call it. I'm not afraid of you there it's not in your lino. You can't be a tattler if you would you're too still in the back-bone to get down to that. Oh, T'vo got a good opinion

of

you, Kean

1 know where to find you all tho time. Ami that's where I'vo got you on the hip you're a crusader and I'm a freelance. Oo in and win, my bov don't nsk any odds. I'll always talk you up I'll give credit Tor generosity by it and woro one against yon there, Now I think of it, I'll drop into particulars myself, as you can't. I used some money of vours* expecting to cover it in and no one be tho wiser, like theso bank presidents and cashiers. Tilings wont against me and I couldn't come up to time, so I put myself and tho whole thing into your hands and you acted the good Samaritan and said,

Go and sin no

inoro.' It is really touching, Kean, and no woman would find it in her heart not to heap sympathy and forgiveness on the ropontant Hluitor. cs? tluit ih good: thank thee, Jew!' Oh, nothing pays so well on the investment as the truth, the whole truth, the touehed-up and beautified truth!

He laughed, and Kean stood up and spoke harshly. "1 warn vou not to presume on this Iving effrontery. I will stand upon no line-drown sham semblance of honor in dealing with you and your shameless impudence,

Marcy nodded cheerfully and Keati came awav. anything but cheerful. Kean's grandfather had left him some property in the West, and it was while out ihere that he had employed young Marev to look after It, and been first robbed and then fooled by the plausible fellow. His first knowledge of the fraud came to him from Marcy himself, who furnished him all the evidence, much of which he could have destroyed, ami put himself at his mercy, and he had been merciful. But looking Imek now, he could see that it had been a well-played ganuy that by forestalling discovery, and supplying all possible evidence himself, M«rev had both prevented Kean from finding it, and taken a purchase on his honor that effectually precluded him from using it. Instead of putting himself in his hands, Kean saw now that Marev had tied them by his artful frankness/as no deception could have done.

And he perceived that the world was no simple matter. A misgiving that lie would not regard took the heart out of him a physical fear came over him sometimes*whe he thought of Marcy and it seemed to him that tho cunning of the devil incarnate must wear some such frank, smiling countenance when he would deceive the very elect.

The Idea of rivalry with the fellow was utt«rlv odious. The thought of finding him with Kdith kept him away in spite of his hunger to go. He could not be a tell-tale, as Marcy said and even if he could, there was nothing to tell that would not fit Into Marey's own story, and nothing in that story that he could denv. The different coloring lie would put "upon it would be naturally ascribed to a more obvious source than the white light of truth.

Consciousness of all this, and the thought of Marev counting on it, and nlavTng it with pleased assurance as a earn in his game, put Kean in a lockjawed humor when with Kdith that was onlv the more so for his knowledge that she" must misjudge it and Ills changed demeanor toward her naturally aroused it resentment on her part that he misunderstood in his turn. So they creased one another fatuously, and the end soon was that he ceased to go. and so played the more Into Marcy* hands knowing that he did so.

Helen perceived more or less vaguely how things were going, and naturally took the matter to heart. After thinking a good deal about it, she took a sudden determination, went to lvdi -it awhile looking at her absently, ant a-a, in response toKdithViquestioning glance n&id abru yj ••day d~H not know anvthlng about my coming to you, dear. But I afraid you are ns 3 a j:: *t mls' ^p.

The bio into ilthVs face, and she replied hotly: "You are prejudiced. He la too proud

es ier

and Her voice broke, her e: dropped a moment, and she brushed cheeK quickly. "What kind of forgh ness is it that pardons an error, to whi we are all liable, and then scorns the confessed and penitent offender for years afterward? I had rather

iveich

But Helen stopped her, laying her hand on her mouth an instant and putting her arms about her, partly for the feeling she had that estrangement was in danger of coming between them. Edith suffered her passively, and after a little Helen kissed her came away.

So Edith, having but few friends in the city and no near relatives but a rather 'weak aunt, was soon left very much to herself and thus Marcy had the course pretty clear and made the most of his chances and, to be brief about it, he and Edith were married late in the following year, when they went off to the Southwest to invest her little fortune in on enterprise of great and certain profit, which Marcy had devised.

Time went on, as before. Kean worked awav doggedly at his medical journal, was helpful and in the main cheerful at home, fond of the children and a great favorite among them. But he seemed not to care to see any one outside of that household and a very few friends. He stuck close to his work and home, and when they by-and-by urged him to go away for a change he turned it off with a joke. But when Helen spoke of it again ho turned suddenly passionate. "You must not urge me don't you see that it's all I can do?"

Years passed. Kean had ordered the sale of his Vallev City property, and he now received a statement from his agents that astonisliod him. The sale had been effected on good terms and the money paid into the Great Valley bank. So far, rig!it and good. But then a large part of it iiad been paid out on Kean's order to "H. M. Charles." Kean telegraphed that ho know no one named Charles and had given no order. Tho replv started him West at once.

There it appeared that the man calling himself Charles had brought the brokers a letter of authorization in Clay's handwriting, and had ordered certain stocks of them, for which ho gave a draft on the Great Valley bank ostensibly drawn to his order by Kean. The brokers had had tho draft cashed and delivered the stocks to Charles. One of the firm took Clay over to the bank, and there they laid before him the draft and letter, with an expert's certificate that tho most of the letter and the signatures of both were in the same hand as certain other papers of Kean's which the brokers had. As he sat and examined the writing it seemed to look him in the face familiarly, like his reflection in a glass and he grew confused after regarding it awhile, as if it put him out of countenance, and looking up he saw the two men sharply watching nim. "It certainly looks liko my writing," he said. "But I suppose I would know if I had written thom."

They nodded slightly, with unchanged gravity and Kean stood up, more grave than tlicy, and spoke slowly: "I liavo not been in tho habit of having my word disbelieved, and you must excuso me if I don't tako to it kindly." lie went to the chief of police, who recommended a detective named Heller. Ho was a little dark Jew, with a look Kean did not like. He felt at first as if those small, deep-sot evos looked through him with suspicion, but ho soon forgot his dislike in admiration of the houndlike instinct with which he tracked the man Charles under various names, found where he had sold the stocks, lost the the scent and caught it again and again, zigzagging west, oast, and south, always Soi\th,eKean went^vitli hihn from plaeef to place.

At the end of a weok or two they went out one day to Sharp's Junction, and Heller and tho station-agent talked together. Kean did not near much of what they said, but sat looking out at the sunny, level southern country, still and lonely under/ho brooding sky. But suddenly" iio caught one word of their conversation "Kranklinburg." Upon the instant he got up and went, out upon tho track. lie walked along one of tho lines, mounted a slight swell a little way off, and looked round at the wide, desolate land with a heavy sonso of the sufficiency and silence of nature and man's strange dependence and isolation in its midst. He had taken a sudden great disgust toward Heller and his own life of these lastdavs. FrauKlinburg was the plate to which the Mareys had removed, ami the mention of tin- name let in upon him a liood of recollection that rolled over him and would havo its way. JIo wandered apart to a place screened from view and throw himself down in tho dry herbage. He still lay there while the sun sank red and droughty, while the twilight passed and the stars came out in the southern night.

When lie came back to the station, Heller said nothing, but regarded him with the same furtive suspicion as 011 the first (lav. Kean paid him off, and saw him take the night train for the north. There would be no train east till towards morning. He lay on the bench, still in the that waking dream, powerless even to wish to shake it off, until at last he drifted into a disturbed sleep.

Bv-and-bv he woke in the great stillness of that wide, uninhabited land The faint airs of the night stole through 1lang and hard. Tho faces of those grave men

lit? 1»«UI VI uiv O"

the own doors and windows and Kean mood had wholly changed. Ho felt sore

at the bank, tho cunning glance of the detective, the whole hateful attitude of deceit and stupid roguery in which the swindle had placed him, scorched his soul like white-hot metal. To be not onlv robbed, but put at the same time in the'light of the thief, stung him intolerably. And ho knew now who the swindler was, had known it all this night since he heard that word which let In the Hood of remembrance that swept awav all cans and thought of the detestable"affair. But it ..meback to him now and made him furious. The signatui were genuine: all the while he had felt it. had seen the reflection of himself in them.

He got up and went out, impatient for the train. It seemed very long till he heard the hoarse whistle, but finally the train came clanking dismally, and then he was off eastward. He ached and hungered to have the scoundrel by the throat.

It was afternoon when they clanked into Franklinburg. Kean got a room and refreshed hin If. Then he came down and went .!•:«- the bar-room to make some inquiries, but he saw through doors the man he wanted coming .ntlly across the dusky road, and lie stood still and waited for him. Hie fellow stopped abruptly in the doorway, and his sanguine race turned white and haggard. had been prepared for this po^ibuity. tuiJ. h"d planned out how he should walk at night up to Kean and salt him truly: but now, when lb® occ&dan had me. It was somehow different. K«*n*aslill li- kst*gg .l him. he ^*ed himself by the dowr-post*. But 1, mmoned up bis assurance and came forward gmmety. "Why, Kean, old fellow, where did you drop from? I'm blessed glad to see TOO,"

But he did not lay his hand on Kean's arm as he inlendHt, and he did n»t Mean ilarly glad. Kean neither moved jwered for a minute, Looking past

part nor

TBHRB "FT ATTTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

him out of doors. Then he said simply: "Go upstairs." The fellow looked to right and left a feeling of fear came over him, but he could not have turned his back then if he would. He hesitated a moment, then went a little unevenly up the stairs and into the room Kean pointed out. Kean followed and closed the door. The fellow lounged by the window. Kean motioned to a chair against the waU, and he went slowly and took it. Kean leaned back against the bed and took a folded paper from his pocket-book. "You forged this draft."

Marcy gathered himself together as he could, and the programme he had rehearsed helped him, though feebly. He attempted no vain denial. "You will heardly make it forgery, I think the signature is genuine.

Kean lifted his eyes. "Be careful," he said. "You stole the paper with mv signature."

Marcy grew a little more like his customary bold self. He raised his head and crossed his legs. "I am not quite sure that a man can steal from his wife."

Kean roae to his feet, and the fellow quailed. "Take care, I toll you," Kean said. And after a pause he continued in the same low, menacing way, "Will you go voluntarily to Valley City and confess your villiany, or shall I have you taken there?" "I don't think we shall do either," Marcy answered and his head was thrown back and a lock of his hair straggled down his forehead as of old. "You can't strike me alone."

Ivcan's face Hushed blood-red. He swayed slowly forward and back. A film came over liis sight, and he stood still awhile, then turned slowly away.

Marcv's words had been well chosen. The paralyzing sense of impotence that had gagged and manacled Kean from the first took all force out of him. The game had been so well planned that even the plaver might not hold his hand, though lie quailed ver so cravenly, from the final movow. A smothering sense of the iron grasp of fate seized upon Kean. He felt the place sink and heave under him, saw a blackness in the sunshine and heard thunderous tones hi the still air. The whole universe circled about him, and he the one thing in the midst that could not move.

Suddenly he caught sight, through a dusty window across the way, of Heller's dark, watchful face.

It was too much the bonds that held him snapped. He turned ftround and when Marcy saw his look, he stood up and grow Nvhite and staid so. Kean seemed to have grown heavy and sunk together, and there was murder in his face.

He grasped a wooden chair by the back with both hands, raised it, and advanced slowlv and Marcy backed, step by step, before him, until he struck tho wall and could back no more. He did not dare to move hand or lip he knew that to move or speak would be to bring the first crashing blow and he felt with a swooning terror how, once begun, the blows would follow one another, swift, merciless, horrible, till blows mattered no more. Things swam before him tho sight wont out of liis staring eves.

There was a small looking-glass a red square frame on the wall close to Marey's head and as Kean advanced, he saw the window reflected, and through it, beyond the ragged chimneys of tlie houso opposite, a white road slanted up a hill, and on it a young woman walking with a child. They were descending the hill tho little girl stumbled as he loo\ed, and the rtiotMer stopped to liffnnd comfort her. He watched them till they came on again and passed out of sight.

His face fell ho lowered the chair and stood, still grasping its back. Hedged thus in his corner, Marey's strength went out of him, and he sank down abjectly in a heap. Though Kean's eyes were bent upon him, he did not see him, but still only tho white hill road, and the woman walking 011 it with the child. And then Marcy began to beg in a cringing tono from where he crouched: "You don't want to hurt 1110, Kean it wouldn't do you any good. I can't pay back the money now I did intend to, I swear I did. I was worth twenty thousand dollars three weeks ago, and now I haven't got a cent. The luck always turns against me. I'll liiake you the onlv reparation 1 can—I'll go awav and stay. After a whilo 3'ou'll very likely hear of my being shot in some row. I

make

you this offer honestly. It 011 can be sure I won't come back you hold over mo what will secure you of t.iat."

Kean only heard him vaguely all he saw

was

a white hill road and a young

mother on it, bending over a child. And Marcy maundered on, growing bolder from Ivcan's silence, till at length he dared to mention names.

Then Kean straightened up stiffly and turned a look on tlie fellow that froze his speech and ho lifted his foot and placed it 011 his breast, quelled him with a prossure of detestation, turned away and fumbled at the lock of the door, and went out down the stairs and into the street.

It was late afternoon. He went along slowly, and turned into the road that led up the bill toward the railway. He walked weakly and crossed tho path from side to side. Gaining the height, he stood and looked down at the straggling village in tho vallev he could see the long low hotel with its broad verandas, and certain ragged chimneys a little to the west. He walked along tho ridge road until below him he saw a steep byroad winding down toward the river. He descended it part way. Here was the place, jnst above this little shop which tie recalled.

Here she had stopped here was the stone on which the child had tripped, yonder the turn where they went out of sight. He felt sick and leaned against a tree, aside In the shadow. The sun was down and the dusk beginning to draw (v. r. Presently a lamp was lighted in the little shop. A woman came slowly up the hill and went in, and a man came out and went down. Then Kean heard the man speak to some one below, out of sight anl soon he heard light feet rasping on the gravel, as they came up slowly. Before he could see any one, he heart! a child's voice chattering. Then, as thev came near the small shop, he saw them." The little girl turned toward the lighted window, in which were displayed cakes and fruit, and he beard her ask mamma to buy her something, complaining that she was hungry. But the mother drew her on, saying she had no pennies now. The child fretted a little and then asked to be carried, complaining that she was tired. They were nearly opposite then, and the mother answered that she could not carry her—she was too heavy it was only a little way now, and they would soon be home. But the child fretted on:

MI

carry, mamma I tails down. The mother stood a moment, looking down at her, and stooped to take her

Kean left the tree where he lean­

ed and crossed the road and Edith straightened up at the sound. Theme was nothing between tbem and the west here, and it was still light out of the Shadows. She drew a long, deep breath, wid pronounced his name. He did not answer, but looked at her a moment with a searching gaze. In that moment be knew that afi estiangement bad been

washed away from between them, that the deep-rooted regard and confidence of their early companionship had not been weakened by time or distance. And he knew, too, that she had not changed, that nothing could change her, that hers was the purity to which all things are pure and of which all is of good report. But he saw, by unmistakable signs and with a sudden resentment, that she had suffered much and was in want. He could not speak to her, but he stooped down and took the child up in his arms, and said: "I will carry the little girl if she will let me."

But she was frightened and would have cried, and he turned back toward the shop and coaxed her with an offer of cakes and candy and he took her in and held her up while she pointed here and there with her pretty hand and gave her orders soberly: "One of 'ese, and two of 'ese, and one-two-six-for of 'ese."

With a cake in her hand and mouth, and her other purchases clasped tight, she looked with solemn inquiry into his face as he brought her away. "You oan give some to your brother you've got a brother, haven't you?" Kean said. "'Es," she answered, with a pretty nod. "Holly's his name he's in heaven now. He can't come back, but lio isn't Sick any more, and mamma's going to take me"to see him some day, and I'll tako him some of 'ese. You can go there too, if you're good."

Edith walked beside them as they talked and as the child prattled of her dead brother, he saw the mother's hand grope hastily for her handkerchief and put it to her face. "Oh, forgive mo, Edith," he besought

I did not know." The child looked troubled at her mother a moment, but then she turned back to Kean. "Mamma won't ky auy more when we go to heaven. And I want you to come too 3*011 aro good now, I know, and you're going to be good?" "Yes, dear, yes!" he answered "I will trv." "And you'll want to know my name, won't you?'' she continued. "It's Ellie, Ellie Lane Marcy." "Ellie Lane,' he repeated with a thrill, —Helen McLean, is it?" 'Es after 111 Aunty Ellie. I've never seen her, but mamma has, and she's real good." "Yes, Ellie," I10 answered. "She is mv sister, and she is very good." ivean found himself walking unsteadily the slight child's weight was a burden to him. As she still prattled they gained the level, went a little way to the left, and stopped at a gateway. The gate was gone and the fence broken. Ho saw without looking that it was a tumbledown place and that poverty dwelt within, lie set the child on the rickety gatepost and held her there with his arm about her, partly for his own support.

Edith doubled her handkerchief and pressed it hard on either cheek, then put it in her pocket out of sight and she looked up and spoke, but with the grieving note still in lier voice. "You must not understand I have no complaint to make. I was crying about mv little boy. It is so fresh and sharp!"

She turned. away again a moment, but looked back directly. "But I mustn't bo selfish I haven't asked about you. Have you been well and—how is Holen I saw by the papers that she had a loss too I was very sorry." "Helen is well," lie said.

Then there was a pause. After awhile he spoke again, his voice sounding to him like something apart from himself. "I did not set out with any intention of coming here. I havo been through a great trial it is not safe for mo to stay here I should go away on tho first train. But I can quite trust myself I feel very tirod, and am afraid of what may happen. I want you to help mo."

She looked at him earnestly, troubled and vaguely infected with his fear. "Tho northern train passes here soon," she said. "Elllo'and I will come with you to the station it is not very far."

The bade the little girl to show the good gentleman the way, and they walked along beside him. She asked him about old friends and he answered, speaking and walking languidly.

They sat down in a corner of the wait-ing-room. The station-master passed by them and saluted Edith politely Kean had noticed that others whom they met treated her with the same marked respect. She wont over presently and spoke with the agent. She came back and stood beside Kean and the child and talked in her old soft, low way. "The train is behind time, but will bo here in half an hour," she said. "Mr. Gates is a neighbor of mine they are verv kind."

Their talk drifted back to the dead child, of whom Edith spoke freely out of her full heait, as if it had been pent up and she were glad of the"relief of utterance to one who would caro and comprehend. And Kean listened to her sacred confidence with such emotions as mav be imagined. lie said what he could to control her and reassure her sorely tried faith and they talked on of the more real concerns, the imminent matters of death and immortality. And, more out of a well-remombered conviction than any-present feeling of his shattered consciousness, he strove to stretighen her with the profound assurance that had taken deeper and deeper root in him the longer ho lived, that there is an underlying order in all the seeming confusion and blindness of the world, as in the stars'nightly round that a higher right than our dull sense can apprehend rules in this strange being of ours, and that all things work together for righteousness.

He forgot the lapse of time, but the striking of a clock reminded Edith. "It is nearly time now," she said "have vou a ticket?"

He got up wearily and went across to the office. The child "had tired of playin with her purchases and was sleepy an fretful, and her mother was trying to keep her awake as Kean came back with his pocket-book in his hand. He snapped the bright clasp to amuse her, and she roused up and took it to play with. When the train whistled Edith bade her give it back, but she demurred and Kean said: "No keep it, Ellie. Here are some pennies 111 put in it, for you and nobody else, uet mamma to put it away for you when vou go home."

Edith thought he had of course taken out the rest of the money, but when she looked that night she found he had not. Her instant impulse was to return it, and she sat down to write to Helen about it, but finally could not make up her mind that she had aright to take it from the child nor find the heart to thrust it back upon him. 1* 1

When Kean had given the child three

the

went out upon

pocket-book they the platform. It by this time. The train came clanging in and stood, hissing. Kean stooped and kissed the little girl, then held Edith's hand a moment. She said goodbye and he turned and climbed up the steps of the car. grasping the iron* with both hands. Edith lingered till the train was gone, but did not see him HjrmlW-

It was bright moonlight

Keen mi with his back to the window, and the train went plunging on. To his sense it was as If chaos crashed round

him. All that central order and calm of which he had spoken to her was no more. He was swallowed up in a sea of confusion. All was false, mocking, unjust truth trampled and spit upon, lying deceit rewarded and triumphant, Satan the ruler of the world and the earth his fit abiding-place. Job's old desperation cried out again: "He will laugh at the trial of the innocent" "The just, upright man is laughed to scorn" "The tabernacles of robbers prosper!" Sounds and sights of terror raving around him, waking dream and a doziug vision and swoon of utter exhaustion and desolation mingling and succeeding one another.

Night and day were alike to him, and he staid where he was in the ordinary car. The conductor's lantern flashing in his face half roused him now and then and when he continued to drowse after daylight he excited contempt.

When another conductor took the train, the two came in and looked at him in his eorner. "A day of fasting and humiliation will bring him round, 1 reckon," one said.

The. next conductor was more doubtful, and another talked to him and telegraphed ahead. When they stopped for breakfast on the second morning, a doctor was waiting for them and came into the car. Kean lay still in the corner of the seat. "He hasn't been out of the car and hardly ever moves," the conductor said.

Tho doctor bent over and .held Kean's wrist and examined his face closely. "He's no drinking man," he said.

He took hold of him and made him get on his feet, shook him, and called sharply into his half-opyn eyes: "What's the matter with you?"

Kean heard the words from the upper air and tried to remember, but the waters Avere too deep above him.

They got him out of the car, and tho crisp air revived him somewhat. Tlie doctor took him to tho breakfiust room, set him down in an arm-chair, got him some food, and ordered him to eat and he tried, but did not succeed very well. The doctor brought something in a glass and made him drink. Then he sat close in front of him and questioned him distinctly and with repetition, making notes with his pocket-pen on a prescription paper. Then he went into the telegraph office. When he came back lie said: "I've sent word to your brother." He went back into the car with him, spoko to the conductor, and said a parting word to Kean. Keen felt in his pockets and looked blank, trjnng to remember something. "I don't think I've got any money,' I10 said. "I haven't asked you for any," the doctor answered, and went out abruptly.

Then Kean felt the world swinging on again, and the deep sea rolied over him. At nightfall Dr. George boarded the train and took charge of Vis brother.

Some time later, while Kean was still weak and confined to the house, he told Helen 0110 day a part of the story and she showed him a letter sho had received from Edith, written tho night of his departure from Franklinburg, in which she told Helen of her meeting with hi 111and licr fear that ho was ill, and anxiety to hoar of his safe arrival.

The broken intercourse thus resumed, Helen and Edith kept up a correspondence thenceforth, in which tho effoctionate relations of the two friends were renewed.

A year or two later Edith was forced to leave her husband and returned with her little girl to her native village, where Helen went occasionally to visit her and help her to find work tqrsupport herself. She was in the city now and then, and Kean mot her casually and exchanged a few words with her once or twice in half a year. So three or four half yoars passed by.

It was summer, and the shadow of pestilence fell upon the far South. One afternoon Kean came in hastily, and showed Helen an evening paper 111 which she read: "Charles H. Marcy is down with the fever here, the only new case to-day."

Kean left Helen reading it and went upstairs to his room. She heard him tramping about overhead. Sho followed hiui and found him packing a valiso. He asked her about some of his tilings. She went over and closed a drawer and loaned against it. "What are you about, Clay?" she asked* "I'm going down there," he said. "Don't try to hindor me."

When lie first saw the dispatch, he fell into a rcvery from which lie awoko suddenly with something like affright, and a remembered phrase in his mind about one who was "consenting unto his death." He took a quick resolve, got up, and came hurriedly home.

Helen left him in his room, came down and sent for her husband. Presently there was a ring, and she heard Edith voice and went to meet her. Edith was excited she saw the paper in Helen's hand. '"You have seen it then," she said "tell me what I ought to do. I think I should go there, but I haven't tho money."

Helen heard George on the stair and went out and told him. Ho came in and took Edith's hand, and spoke to her gravely: "I don't think you should go there your first duty is here with your child."

Quick steps*came down the stairs, and Kean tramped in with his valise grasped tight and his hat on his head. He had beard part of the words ho looked round and comprehended. He stood before Edith, and a great thankfulness camo over him that he had so decided. "I am going there," ho said to hetV

Then Edith"sank down on a low seat and covered her face. George came and took hold of his brother, and drew him outside the door. "Clay," he said, "what do you mean? He has no claim on you. There isn't one chance in ten of your coming back, and he may be dead before you get there*"

But lie answered: "George, I'm sorry about vou and Helen, but don't try to hinder me. It is no use. I'm going on my own account, not his."

George studied him earnestly and shook his head but he brought him in again, and said to him: "Wait here. We will go with you to the depot."

He ran down to order a carriage, and Helen left the room. Kean came and stood over Edith. Both. were silent awhile. "Oh, I have much trouble!" she sobhed* "Hush, Edith," he answered "don't do that. I feel it no trouble. 1 am eager to go, except for Helen and George."

George and Helen came back presently and the carriage was waiting. Helen took hold of Clay's arm and he felt her trembling but she did not dissuade him. At the door Clay faltered and looked back. Helen went over where Edith still sat and brought her with them. In the carriage Clay penciled some instructions, then talked cheerfully to one and another. The others had all three the feeling that they were going to a funeral. Then they stood together in the thronging depot. George told him and dropped his bead a moment, then said: "Promise that you will use every precaution and do all you can to keep well,

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or I won't let you go." Clay promised and turned to Helen, who was leaning on her husband's arm, and she did not speak but drew down Clay's face quickly and kissed him. He hesitated, looked at them all, took Edith's hand, and was gone.

Helen made Edith come and stay with, them. They heard pretty constantly from Clay, directly or "through the press ana one clay the report came that Marcy was convalescent, and that he would undoubtedly have died but for the devotion of Dr. 'Kean.

Two weeks later George came in ono morning and brought tnem news that his face told without words—Clay was down.

Marcv, still weak and subdued fronv liis near approach to death and not* wholly recovered from the astonished thankfulness for Clay's great and illdeserved service, did all he could for him.

How the three home went about hushed in those auxious days, as if beside tho lied where Clay lay stricken far away, the lieart-sick prayers that went up in the waking nights, the mingled dread and eagerness for the daily report, the sinking confidence, the succeeding dumb expectation, need not be further told. Deep gloom settled down upon tliem, and then was suddenly pierced by a ray of promise.

And as they lind feared together and mourned in anticipation, so now they rejoiced with one another, at first with trembling and then with grateful confidence. Clav continued to revive, and: by-and-by was reported out of danger.

Edith went home again. The prayed-,.' for frosts quenched the plague, and presently Clay came creeping home, to meet in George and Helen tho strong joy

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one raised from the dead. Kean heard from Marcy once or twice, then tliev lost all track of him for a good while, ivean took up his old life cheerfully, and came more and more to tho front in his medical journal, whoso increasing success was acknowledged to bo largely due to him.

One winter Helen told him she thought Marcy had hunted up Edith and was taking money from her, and later that sho was sure of it. In early spring, on his way to the office, Kean met Edith for the first time in a good while and he walked a few blocks with her, going a little out of his way. Soon after reaching the office a man inquired for him, and was shown into Ins room. Kean was standing, leaning back thoughtfully and I10 lifted his eyes and saw Marcy. He did not movo or say anything, but looked at the fellow steadily and Marcy abruptly asked him for money to pay his fare west.

A certain assurance in the fellow's manner increased Kean's desire on general principles to fling him downstairs. But ho stood still with unchanging features and his eyes on the swaggering intruder whilo lie argued the case with himself. Ought I10 not to send him out of mischief if lie could? lie had nothing to -gain by it and no wish to spend money on him he could get him a ticket ami see that ho started. Then ho saw clear again. He straightened up, looked around, saw an improved scalpel lying near, took it up, and said ho would givo him a ticket to another place and I10 drove him liofore him, tripping and stumbling down the stairs so that people came out to see.

Once or twice, after that, I10 saw him in the company of faro nion and liko gentry.

Finally Edith was obliged to consult Helen and George, and they advised and helped her to romove out of the way of his pursuits and robbery.' Then Clay scarcely ever saw lier.

Some time afterward ho got a note from his friend Dr. Bain of St. Lazarus hospital, saying that they had a man there who wished to see him. He went up, and found it was-Marcy. Ho saw it was a bad ease, and the houso surgeon confirmed his opinion. Ho wont to see him several times, and 0110 night ho found him excited and garrulous. Ho said he was glad to see Kean, that ho felt better to-night, and wanted to talk to him.

Continued on Third Page.

100 I)OHCH Ono DOIIHI'

Is Inseparably conncetcd with Hood's Hurnaparllln, and Is true of no other medicine. It Is an unanswerable argument us to strength and economy, while thousands tenllfy to Its Kupnrlor blood-pnrlfyhiK and strengthening qualities. A Ixittlc of Hood's Harwiparlllu contains 1(X) doses and will last a month, while others will average to last not over a week. Hence, for economy, buy Hood's Harsapartlla ___________

It is too late in tho season for a grasshopper scare on wheat.

Not a particle of calomel or any other deleterious substance enters into tlie composition of Ayer's Cathartic Pills. On'tho contrary, they prove of special service to those who.nave used calomel and other mineral po^ons as medicines, and feel their injurious effects. In such cases Ayer's Pills are invaluable.

He is a great President ho weighH about 800 pounds in his summer shirt.

Ilrown'a Little Joke.

"Why, Brown, how short your coat is," sai(l Jones one day to his friend, Brown, who wittily replied: "Yes "but it will bo long enough before I got another." Some men spend so much for medicines that neither nor help them, that new clothes is with them liko angels' visits—few and far between. Internal fevers, weakness of the lungs, shortness of breath and lingering coughs soon yield to tho maeic inuu royal en Medical Discovery."

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yield to tho magic influence of that remcdv. Dr. R. V. Pierce's "Gold-

Beware of Scrofula

Scrofula is probably more general than any other disease. It is insidious in character, and manifests itself in running sores, pustular eruptions, boils, swellings, enlarged joints, abscesses, sore eyes, etc. Hood's Sarsaparllla expels all trace of scrofula from the blood, leaving it pure, enriched, and healthy.

I was severely afflicted with scrofula, and over a year had two running sores on my neck. Took five bottles Hood's Sarsaparllla, and am cured.". C. E. LOVEJOT, Lowell, Mass.

C. A. Arnold, Arnold, Me., had scrofulous sores for seven years, spring and fall. Hood's Sarsaparllla cored him.

Salt Rheum

Is one of the most disagreeable diseases caused by impure blood. It Is readily cured by Hood's Sarsararllla. the crest blood purifier.

William Spies, Elyria, O., suffered greatly from erysipelas and salt rheum, caused by handling tobacco. At times bis hands would erack open and bleed. He tried various preparations without aid finally took Hood's Sarsaparllla, and now says: "lam entirely welL" "My son had salt rheum on his bands and 011 the calves of his lees. He tood Hood's Sarsaparllla and Is entirely cared." J. B. Stanton, Mt. Vernon, Ohio.

Hood's Sarsaparllla

Sold by drantcU. #1 six forf&. Xsdeoolf by C. HOOD A OO, Apotfascartes, Lowell, Xua.

100 Doses One Dollar,

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