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About Eugene weekly guard. (Eugene, Or.) 190?-1910 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 4, 1906)
The Two Vanrevels =5 C: By BOOTH TARKINGTON, Author ot “Yhz Gentlsmsn From Indians" and “Monsieur Bcaucaire" u ■ ■ o Copyright. 1902. by S. $. McClure Co. CHAPTER XI CONTINUED •Tbink 1 must be growing old. anil constitution refuses bear it. Disgra.-e- ful to be seen lu condition, yet celebra tion justified. H'rith for tbe news!” He waved his band wildly. "Ohl r««d, white and blue! American eagle now kiudiy pr<x-ee«l to scream! Star spun- gjt,l banner intends streaming to all the trade winds! Sea to sea! Glorious victories ou political thieving exhibi tion—no. expedition! Everybody tot reajxmsible for the trouble to g> and get*himself patriotically killed!” ••Wb.it do you mean?” ••Water!" said the other feebly. Tom brought the pitcher, and Crailey, set tins Ills hot lips to It. drank long and deeply; then, with his friend’s assist ance, be titsl a heavily moistened towel round his head. "All right very soon and sober again." lie muttered and lay back upon the pillow with eyes tightly closed lu an Intense effort to concen trate bis will. When lie opened them again, four or five minutes later, they had marvelously cleared and his look wns seif contained and sane. "Haven't you heard tbe news?” He moke much more easily now. "It came at midnight to the Journal.” "No; I've been walking in tlie coun try." "The Mexicans crossed the Illo Grande on the 2l»tb of last mouth, cap tured Captain Thornton and iuurdertil Colonel Crook. That means war is cer tain." “It has be«'n certain for a long time,” »aid Tom. “Polk has forctxl it from the first.” •Then It's a pity be can’t be the only man to die!” "Have they called for volunteers?’ asked Tom. going toward tbe door. “No. but if the news is true they Ul." "Yes," said Tom, and as he reached tbe ballway be paused. "Can I help you to undress?” "Certainly not!” Crailey sat up in dignantly. “Can't you see that I'm per fectly sober? It was tlie merest tem porary fit. and I’ve shaken It off. Don’t you see?” He got upon Ills feet, stag gered and came to tbe door with Infirm steps. "You're going to bed, aren’t you?” asked Tom. "Y'ou’d much better.” “No," answered Crailey. “Are you?” “No. I'm going to work.” “Ycu’ve been all up night, too. haven't you?” Crailey put his hand on the oth er’s shoulder. "Were you bunting fur caught in a lie. H" went to the Main street window and seat«! himself upon the ledge, the only on.« In the room not too «litstv for occupation, far here, at this hour. Tom had taken his place every morning sln.-e Elizalieth Carew«« had come from the convent. The window was a coign of vantage, commanding the corner of < arewe and Main streets. Some dis- tarn««» west of the corner the Catholic Church cist Its long shadow across Main street, and In order to enter the church a person who lived upon 'Ca rewe street must pass tlie coruer or else m: ke a half mile detour ami ap proach from the other direction, which tbe person ueier did. Tom lia«l thought It out tbe first night that the image of Miss Betty had kept him awake. an«l that was Hie flrst_nigtit Miss Carewe spent In Rouen. The St. Mary's girl would be sure to go to mass every day, which was why the window ledge was dust«l th«* next morning. The glass doors of the little corner drug store caught the early sun of the hot May morning and became like sheets of polished brass; a farmer's wagon rattle I down the «lusty street; a group of Irish waitresses from the ho tel made the iioaril walk rattle under their liurrit*<l steps as they weut to ward the church, talking to ou«« anoth er. and a blinking youth in his shirt sleeves, who wore th«* air «if on«« newly but not gladly risen, began to strugg!«« mournfully with the shutters of Ma- drillon's bank. A moment later Tom heard Crailey come down the stairs, sure of foot and humming lightly to himself. Th«« d«x>r of the office was Closed. Crailey did not look lu. but presently appeared ou the opposite side of the street aud offered badinage to the bo.v who toileci at the shutters. The bell had almost ceased to ring when a lady, dressed plainly in black, but graceful and tall, came rapidly out of Carewe street, turned at tlie corner by tbe little drug store aud went to ward the church. The boy was left staring, for Crailey's banter broke off in the middle of a word. He overtook her on tbe church steps, and they went in together. That afternoon Fanchon Bareaud told Tout how beautiful ber betrothed had been to lier. He bad brought ber a great bouquet of violets and lilies of tbe valley and laid taken her to the cemetery to place them on the grave of her baby brother, whose birthday it was. Tears came to Fanchon's eyes as she spoke of her lover’s gtxxlness and of how wonderfully be had talked as they stoixl lieside tbe little grave. “He was the only one who remem bered that this was poor tiny Jean's birthday,” she said and soblM«d. “He came Just after breakfast and asked me to go ou? there with him.” CHAPTER XII. CAREWE returned one warm May afternoon by the weS «5 «I o’ clock boat, iHiat. which was sometimes a day late and sometimes a few hours early, the lat ter contingency arising, ns in the pres ent instance, when the owner was aboard. Nelson drove him from the wharf to the bank, where he ««onferred brieflv In au undertone with Eugene Madrillon. after which Eugene s«>nt a not«» containing three word« to Tap- pingliain Marsh. Marsh tore up the note and sauntered over to the club, where he foun«l General Trumble and Jefferson Bareaud. "He has come,” said Tappingham, pleased to find tlie pair the only occu pants of tbe place. “II«« saw Madril lon. and there's a session tonight. "Praise the Lord!” exclaimed the stout general rising to his feet. 1 II ae<« obi Chenoweth at once. My lingers have the itch.” "And mine, too," said Bareaud. “I'd begun to think we’d never have a go with him again." "You must s«-e that Crailey comes. We want a full table. Drag him if you can't get him any other way." “He won’t need urging." said Jeffer son. , ••But he cut us last time.' “He won't cut tonight. What hour.' “Nine.” answered Tapplngham. It s to be a full sitting, remember." -Don't fear for us." laughed Trum- M ft seemed quite a journey. “No; not last night.” Crailey lurched suddenly, and Tom caught him about the waist to steady him. "Sweethearting. tippling, vingt-et-un or poker, eh. Tom?” be shouted thickly, with a wiki laugh. "Ha. ha. old smug face, up to my bad tricks nt last!" But, recovering himself immediately, he Pusbeil the other off at arm's length •ml slapped himself smartly on the brow. -Xever mind; all right, all right “-only a bad wave now and then. A walk will make me more a man than You'«! much better go to bed. Crai- I can't. I'm going to change my clothes and go out.” "Why?" ••Now for Crailey.” Jefferson addeii. “After so long a vacation you couldn t keep him away If you chained him to the courthouse pillars. He'd tear em in two!” .. But Jefferson did not encounter the alacrity of acceptance he expected from Crailev when be found him half an hour liter at tbe hotel. Ind*d at first Mr Gray not only refused outright, but seriouslv urged the same course upon Jefferson Moreover, his remonstrance was offered in such good faith that Bareaud. in the act of swallowing one of bis large doses of quinine pau«-d with only half tbe powder down hto throat gazing, nonplused, at hia pro- gpwtive brother-in-law. -My immortal soul!” b” gasr*d. I ffil, (railey Gray? Wh.C. tbe trou- Crailey did not answer, but at that moment the Catholic church bell, sum moning the faithful to mass. pealed fondly on the morning air. and the •teady glance of Tom Vanrevel rested ®Pon the reckless eyes of the man be tide him as they listen«l together to ™ Insistent call. Tom said gently, al- ®o»t timidly; 'You have an—engagement?” This time the answer came briskly. Tes I promised to take Fanchon to “e cemetery before breakfast, to place •"»e flowers on the grave of the little brother who died. This happens to be birthday ” ble?” ••Nothing.” replied Gray 'I“’*1*' It wag Tom who averted bls eyes, not Oalley. ••Only don't go: you've lost enough. • Well, you're a beautiful one. Jef ««a you’d best hurry.” he said besi- ~0ng1y; "? mustn't keep you." and ferson excUimed. e»> ---------- with an ln<«reduj«i , *«nt downstairs to his office with flush laugh "You're a master band- ~~ fbe*kx, a banging head am’ an ex- to talk about losing enough -i know. I know." Crailey began, Pr<*«:on which would have led a stran 1® believe that be bad Just beer abaklnf his head, "but"— You’ve promised 1 again, aud you're a will see or hear us t «■re there.” I «lou t know Miss Carewe.' "Then you needn't «ar. B««sldes, she'll be out when we m* aud asleep wben we go. She v never know we've lievu in th«« horn "That has il o with it,” Biiiil Crailey ml be was the more ear •a use he remember- ed the dauge ogrnpby of the Ca- bouse, made it I in possible ty oue e the cupola room except by tl. ball which passed certain door will not go. aud, what's more, nived Failchon I'd try to keep y nf it hereafter.” “Lord. Lut virtuous!" laughed the lncredul« ferson. "1'11 come for you at a "1 will not go, I tell y< Jefferson roared. you will. You < oul !n't k- i-p from It If you tri«««!!” Atrl be to I; bir -<«!f off. laughing vio lently. again promising to call for Crai ley on bis way to the tryst and leaving him still warmly protvsting that It woultl be a greut folly for either of them to go. Crailey l«x>ked after the lad's long, thin figure with an expression as near anger as h«« ever wore. “He'll go," he said to himself. "And—all. well—I'll have to risk tt! I'll go with him. but only to try to bring him away early—that Is. as early as it's safe to b«> sure that they are asleep downstairs. Ami I won't play. No. I'll not play; I'll not play.” He Went out of the hotel by a side door. Some distance up the street Bareaud was still to 1^< «en. lounging homeward in the pl«*sint afternoon sunshine. He stopped on a corner and serenely pourtsl another qu'«iine pow der into himself and threw the pap««r to a <*ouple of pigs that looked up from the gutter maliciously. "Confound him!” sal«l Crailey, laugh ing ruefully. "He makes me a mis sionary—for I'll k««ep m.v wort! to Fan chon in that, at least! I'll look after Jefferson tonight. Ah. I might as well be old Toni Vanrevel, indeed!” Meanwhile Mr. Carette had taken possession of Ills own again. His «laughter ran to the door to meet him. She was trembling a little and. blush ing and smiling, held out tmth her hands to hint, so that Mrs. Tanberry vowe«I this was th«« loveliest creature In the world, and the kindest. Mr. Carew«» bowed slightly, as to nn acquaintance, anil «flsregarded the ex- tended bands. At that the blush fade«! from Miss Betty's eli<*cks. she trenibl««<l no more, and a salutation as lev as her father's was returned to him. He bent his heavy brows upon her anil shot a black glance her way. being, of course. Immediately enraged by her reflection of his own manner, but he did not speak to her. Nor did he once address her «luring the evening meal, preferring to honor Mrs. Tanberry with bls <*onversation, to thnt diplomatic Indy's secret anger, but outward amusement. She cheerful ly neglt*ct«sl to answer him nt times, having not the slightest awe of him, and turned to tn«1 girl Instead; Indeed, she was only prevented from rating bint soundly nt his own table by the fear that she might make the situation more difficult for her young charge. As soon as It was possible she made her escaiM* with Miss Betty, and they drove away In the twilight to pay visits of duty, leaving Mr. Carewe frowning at his coffee on the veranda. Wben they came borne three hours later Mias Betty tmtlcisl that a fringe of Illumination bordered each of the heavily curtained windows in the cu pola. and she uttered an exclamation, for she had never known that room to be llghteil. "Look!” she cried, touching Mrs. Tanberry's arm. as the horses trotted through the gates under a drizzle of ruin. "I thought th«« room in the cupola was empty. It’s always locked, and when I came from St. Mary's he told me that old furniture was stored there." Mrs. Tanberry was grateful for the d'trkn««ss. "He may have gone there to read.” she answered in a queer voice. "Let us go quietly to bed. child, so as not to disturb liim.” Betty had as little desire to disturb ber father as she had to see him; there fore she obeyeil ber friend's injunction an«l weut to her room ou tiptoe. The house was very silent as she lit tbe candles ou her bureau. Outside the gentle drizzle and the soothing tinkle from the eaves were the only sounds. Within there was but tbe faint rustle of garments from Mrs. Tanberry h room. Presently tbe latter ceased to be beard, and a wtaxleu umau of protest from tfie four |>oster upon which the good lady reposed announced that she bad drawn tbe curtains and wo « m ««1 the rulers of Nod. Although :»was oue of those nights of which they say, “It is a good night to sleep," Miss Betty was not drowsy. She bad half unfastene«! one small san- dai, but sb<- tied the ribbons again and seated herself by the open window Peering out Into tbe dismal nigtit, she found ber own future as black, and It s«x«tned no wonder, that the sisters loved tbe convent Hfe; that tbe pale nuns forsook tbe world wherein there wns so much useless unkindness, where women were petty and Jealous, like that cowardly Fanebon, awl men who looked great were tricksters, like Fan chon's betroth«xl. Miss Betty clinched her delicate lingers. She would uot re member that white, startled again. Another face helped ber to shut ou« the recollection-that of the man who bad come to mass to meet ber yester- <lar morning an«l with whom she had taken a long walk afterward. He bad shown ber a quaint old English garden er who liv«al oto the bank of tbe river, . . t,..r a t«,u |U< t ind she had bel;«e<! him to select another to Send to a »)■ k friend. How beautiftol the flow era were and boa ba;,.; he hail ma<> th«« morning tor her with his gayety. his I ,-litu« and bis Odd wisdom! Was it only yesteniay? Iler father's com ing had made yesterday a fortnight old. But th«« continuously pattering rain ami the soft drip, drop from the roof, though as mournful ns she chose to find them, began after awhile to weave their somnolent spells, aud sb«« slowly drift««d from reveries of unhappy sorts into half dreams. in which she was still aware she was awake, yet sluui- her, heavy eyed, stirring fi om the cur- tain: i beside her with tin* small night bree ze, breathed strange distortions U1KU i familiar things, and drowsy im- pc .sibilitics moved upon the surface of riits. Iler chin, resting ui»ou her thoughts. her baud, sank gently until her head almost lay upon her relax««d arms. "That Is uiiue. Crailey «¡ray!" She sprang to her feet. Immeasurably startled, one baud elutchlug tin« back of lier chair, th«« other tremulously pressed to her cheek, convinced that her father bail stooped over lier and shouted the sentence in her ear. For it was liis voice, aud the house rang with tin« vwinls. All the rooms, halls, ami even the walls, still seemed mur mur >us with the sudden sound, like the tinkling of a bell after it has I «ecu struck. Ami yet—everything was <|Uiet. She pn -ed her lingers to her fore head. trying to untangle tlie make of dreams v.h.«'i had evolved this sh«x«k for her. th«« sudden clamor in lier fa ther's voice of a uanie she hatixl and hoped never to bear again, a name sh«> was trying to forget, but as she was unable to trace anything which had led to it there remained only th«* con clusion that her nerves wen« not what they should l>e. Tilt* vapors having be come obsolete for young ladles as an explanation for all unpleasant sensa tions. they were IpstrUctcd to have "nerves." This was Miss Betty's tlrst consciousness of her own. and. dealr- lug no greater acquaintance with them, sin« t »Id herself it was uuwholesome to fall asleep in a chair by an open win dow wben the night was as sad as she. Turning to a chair in front of the small oval mirror of her bureau, she unclasptsi the brooch which held her lace collar ami, seating herself, began to unfasten her hair. Suddenly she paus««d. her upllfttsl arms falling me- cbanlcally to her sides. Some on«« was coming through the long hall with a soft, almost inaudible Step, a step which was uot her father’s. Bhe knew at once, with Instinctive cer tainty, that It was not he. Xor was It Nelson, who would have shuffled; nor could It be the vain Mamie, nor one of th«« other servants, for they did not sleep In the bouse. It was a step more like a woman’s, though certainly It was not Mrs. Tan berry's. Betty rose, took a candle and sto«xl silent for a moment, the heavy tresses of her hair, half unloosed, falling upon her neck and left shoulder like the folds of a dark drapery. At th«« slight rustk« of ln«r rising the steps ceased instantly. Her heart set up a wild beating, and the candie shook In her hand. But she was brave and young, mid. fidlowing an lrreslstl- bl«« impulse, she ran across the room, flung open the door and threw the light of th«« candle Into the hall, holding it at arm's length before her. She came almost fuce to face with Crailey Gray. The bl«ssl went from bis cheeks ns a swallow flies down from a naif, He start ed back against the opposite wall with a stilled groan, while she stared at him blankly and grew as deathly pale as he II«« wns a man of great resource In all emergencies which required a quick tongue, but for the moment this was beyond him. He felt himself lost, top pling backward iuto an abyss, and the nselessu«*ss of bis destruction made him physically sick. For be n«s«d not have been there; he bad not wish««d to come; be had well counted the danger to himself, and this one time lu bis life bad gone to the cupola room out of good nature. But Bareaud bad been obstinate, and CdUley had come away alone, hoping that Jefferson might fol low. And here he was. poor trapped rat. convicted ami ruined because of a good action! At last lie knew consist ency to tie a Jewel and that a gre««dy boy should never give a crust; that a fool shouhl stick to his folly, a villain to his deviltry and each hold bis own; for the man who thrusts a g<ssl deed into a life of lies is wound about with perilous passes, and in bis devious ways a thousand unexpected damna tions spring. Beaten, stunned, hang Jawed with despair, he return«! her long, dum- founded gaze hopelessly ami told the truth like an inspired dunce. “I came—I came to bring another away,” he whispered brokenly; to eager talk overhea«!. 6Iinking"ey Tile* white baud that belt! the* caudle “I waut to know v wavered, aud the saadow s gutted tu a know ami what 1 a huge, grotes«;ue dauce. Twice she es know s except me. \ sayed to speak before she could uo so, Ing there tmi.gilt, u at the same mutueut motiouitig qu.irrel la-twisti Mr. back, tor he hail mude a vague g« father that bin! to d« toward her. “1 am uot faiut. Do you tue.iu. from up there?” She poiu'.ed cupola stairs. matter that " Y v*s.” "Have-bate you s*«eu my father The questiou cauu* out of depth of lucredulousuess that CHAPTER XIII. more au articulation of the li M \ \\i VEI a sound, but h«« caught It, umi. to 1the 1 » not hope. l*ut the shadow of a 11 KI»ruing the far of hope, a liand wav iug from UHI il; tin shore to tiie swimmer who has lieen o’cloek. and roturms! with the letters down twice. Dili she fear for bis for th«« tirui of Gray a V .inrevel, both sake?" persoual and official. Crailey aud he “No—I hate not aeeu him.” He was shared everything, even a box at tn«« groping blindly. postnfliee. mid in fruit of this box on«« "You did not <x>m«> from that room?" moruiug. after a night of raiu. Tom "No.” stood staring at a white envelope bear "llow did you enter the house?” ing a small black seal. The address Th«« draft through tin* ball was blow was in a writing In« hail never seen be ing upon him; the double dixtrs upon fore, but the Instant it fell under bls the veranda had been left open for cool eye lie was struck with a distinctly ness. «There." he said, pointing to pleasurable excitement. them. Suddenly mid without reason he "But—I heartl you come from the knew that It cam«« from Elixalietb Ca- other direction.” rewe. He was breathing quickly, lit* saw 11«« walk«l back <|Uiekly to bls office his chance—If Jefferson Bareaud did with the letter in the left pocket of liis not come now. eoat. threw tin« bundl«« of general cor "You «lid not hear me com«« down the respondence upon Ills desk, weut up to He leaned toward her, risking stairs.” the floor uliove auil paused at his own It all on that. door to listeu. Deep tiren tiling from “No.” across tin« hall indicatisi that Mr. "All!” A sigh tisi like a gasp burst Gray's soul was still incased In slum front Crailey. His head lifted a little, tier. and tils ««yes were luminous with an Vanrevel went to his own room, lock eagerness that was almost anguish. ed the door mi l tool; th«« letter from He set bls utmost will at work to col bis pocket, At lust, after examining all lect himself mid to think hard and fast. tin« blades of Ills pocketknife. In* select- "1 came here resolved to lake a num «1 on«* brlgh er than tin« others aud away, com«« what would!" he said. "1 loosemsl th«« flap of the envelope us found th«« «loor open, went to th«* foot gently and carefully as if It had I hi « u of that stairway, then 1 stopped. I re- tin* petal of a rosebud that In« was membered something. I turmsl and opening. was going away when you opened the Dear Mi- Vanrevel—I believed you last door.” night, though l did not understand. Put I im.l, i 1 i.-'w ■ vei tn w i»it• • r "You remembered what?” The flicker of hoi«« in bls breast In to me us the truth is, I must show you plainly that I know ull of It. nor can I ereasisl pr<sllgiously. and th«« rush of it rest until 1 do show you. 1 want you to took the breath from his throat and answer tills 1 -iter—though 1 must not see choktsl him. Good God! Was she you again for a lotut time—und In your an iv< r you must s, « me right If I am going to believe him? anywhere mistaken In what I have learn "I remembered—you!" ed “What?" she said wontleringly. At first, und until after the second time Art returmsl with a splendid bound, we nu I. I <hd not believe in y our heart, I did In your mind mid humor full pinioned, bls beautiful mid trcaih though E'en since then there huve come strange, «•rotis familiar who h id tleserttsl him small. Inex,« 'cable mistrusting« of you. at th«« crucialtnstant, but slit* made up but now I ttirow them ull away und trust for it n«iw, folding liitti In protective you whol'y. Monsieur Citizen tlesirgos Mellhic' I shutl always think of you in wings and breathing through Ills spirit. those l:npossitdi- garnishments of my poor In rapid and vehement wliispers be great-uiK I«-, and 1 persuade myself that poured out the words u | h > ii the girl in he must have been u little like von. 1 trust you la-cause I have heard the the doorway. story of your profound goodness. The "I have a friend, and 1 would lay first r'ason for my father's dislike was down my life to make bint what he your !>• ¡1« f In freedom us the right of all <«oul«l lie. He lias always thrown ev men. Ah. It Is not your pretty exaggera tions at I flatteries (I laugh at themll that erything away, his life. Ills talents, all speak for you. liut your career Itself and his money mid all of mine, for tin« sake the brave ihtn « you have done! My fa of—throwing them away! Some other ther's dislike flare«! Into hatred because war- t«-«l him when lie discovered that must tell you about that rotini. but it you bs could not aucccHSf ully defend the Ims ruined my friend. Tonight I «Ils wrong iigalnst you and fell back upon coverod that he bail b«s«n summoned sheer insult. lie la a man whom 1 do not know— her«», ami I made up my mind to come strange ns that seems as I write it. tt and take him away. Your father has Is only to you, who have taught me so sworn to shoot nn* If I set foot in bls much, tr hat I could write It. 1 have tried house or on ground of tils. Well, m.v to know him and to realize that I am his but we are the coldest acquaint duty wits clear, and I emu«* to <lo It. daughter, ances. I i 1 ■ i i < ianot »•■•« how a And yet I stopinsl at the foot of the eh in :•• could < otne I do not understand stair because Iwcmtse I remembered him; least of all do I understand why he that you were Iloliert Carewa’a «laugh la a s «mbler. It has tieen explained to me that it la his great passion, but all I com ter. What of you if I went up and prehend In these words la that they are harm came to me front your father? full of shame foi his daughter. This la v i. t was told me: He has al- For I swear I would not have touched wa«a pla>< 1 heavily und h lllfully. adding him! You asked me not to speak of much to his estate In that way. und In •personal’ things, and I hnve obeyed Hour n alwa* a with a certain coterie, i MN ugo by you, but you see 1 must tel) you one which t man -. on - i.nc to -ave last night. thing now. I have cared for this friend the Your devotlpn to .Mr. limy has been of mine mor • than for all els«« under the most beautiful thing In your life. I heaven, but I turned ami left him to know all that the town knows of that, ex- tdA ruin am! would n thousand times •«Dt the thousand hidden sacrifices you have made for him, those things which rather than brlug trouble upon you! no one will ever know «And yet. you see, A thousand times?' Ah, I swear It I know them after all.) For your sake, should be a tlmusmid times a thou because you love him, 1 will not even call him unworthy. sand !” I have heard- from one who told unwill He bad para«l«»il lu ou«* speech fro«B ingly the story of the night two years the prisoner’s dock to Capulet's gar ago when the play ran so terribly high, den, atnl her eyes were shining lnt* and how In the morning when they went away all were poorer except one—their bis like a great light when be finished. host; how Mr. Gray had nothing left In "Go quickly!” she whispered. "Go the world and owed my father a great sum. which was to be paid In twenty-four quickly! Go quickly!” hours; how you took everything you had "But do you understand?” , saved In the years of hard work at your “Not yet. but 1 shall. Will you go? ' pi ion m i borrowed ths tost on your They might come—my father might word and brought It to my father that afternoon; how. when you hail paid your tome—at uny moment.” friend's debt, you asked my father not to "But”— play with Mr Gray again, und my father "I>o you want to drive me quite made that his excuse to send you a chal lenge. You laughed at the challenge— load? Please go!" Sb«* laid a tretn- and you could afford to laugh at It. bling, urgent hand upon his aleeve. Hut this Is all shume, shame for Robert "Never, until you tell me that you Carew« s daughter. It seems to me that I should hide and not lift my head; that I. understand." repli«! Crailey firmly, lis tening keenly for the sliglit«*st sound being of my father's blood, could never look you In the face again It Is so un from overhead. "Never—until then!” speakably painful and ugly I think of "When I do I sbnll tell you; now I my father's stiff pride ami his look of the eagle and he still plays with your friend, only know that you must go.” almost always "successfully!" And your "But tell me”— friend still comes to play! But I will not "Yup must go.”' speak of that side of It. There w as a shuttling of chairs on the Mr. Gray has maile you poor, but I floor overb« nd. aud Crailey went. He know It was not that which made you seeking him last night, when I weut even more hastily than might come found _ you there In the hull. It was for have b>s«n expected from the adaman his sake you earn«- and you went away tine attitude lie bad just previously ns- for mine Now that I know, at last—now I have beard what your life has been sumed. Realizing this as he reached that «and. oh. 1 heard so much more than 1 the wet path, be riake«l stealing round have written'!-now that my eyee have to her window. been opened to see you as you are, I am "For your sake!” be breathed, and. proud and glad and humble that I can believe that you felt a friendship for mo having thus forestalled any trifling im strong enough to have made you go "for perfection which might arise in tier rec my sake ." You will write to me just once ollection of bls exit from the bouse, be —won't you?- and tell me If there was any disappeared, kissing bls hand to tbe error In what 1 listened to, but you must not come to the garden. Now that I rain as be run down tbe street. know you I cannot meet you clandestine Miss Betty locked her door an«l pulled ly again. It would hurt the dignity which clone the curtains of ber window. A I feel In you now and my own poor dig numerous but careful sound of foot nity—euch as It to! I have been earnestly warned of the danger to you. Besides, steps came from tbe ball, went by her you must let me test myself. I am all door and out across the veranda, Bi fluttering and frightened and excited. lently she wnited until she beard ber You will obey me. won't you? Do not come until I send for you. ____ fath«T go alone to bis room. ELIZABETH CAREW«. Kbe took tbe candle and went In to Mr. Gray, oecnpled with bls toilet Mrs. Tanberry. 8bc set tbe light upon a table, pulletl a cbalr close to tbe bed about noon, heard hie partner deacend- side aud placed ber <-<x>l band lightly Ing to the office with a heavy step. and issued from bls room to rail a hearty on tbe great lady's forebead. Tsu't It rrrf late, child? Why are greeting. Tom looked back over bls shoulder and replied cheerily. though you not asleep?” "Mrs. Tanlierry. I want to know why with a certain embarrassment, bat Fact to fnce u nA Cralby Uray there was a light In the cupola room Crailey. catching sight of bis faee. ut ter«! a sharp ejaculation and came ami. at the very moment, several tonight ?" down to him. "Wbat?” Mrs. Tanberry rolled bar- heavy, half .suppressed voices broke Ut seif as upright as possible am! sat with - “W. what's the matter. Tom? J i for a couple and «1 own “Cai ut I able"- It's «omethlng I'll bave to **Xo utteu I to myself." "All. I s' ppise." said Crailey gently, “I s"p i-.« It's impirtunt aud you , mete b Well— G >.1 knows .« «u're right! I've shown .« >u often en «ugh how Im« impotent I am I I i! > ar..«, th ug but write Jingles!" "You «1 » s • tie more of them—without tin* whisky. Crailey. They're worth mor«« th n u!l the lowing that Gray Ac Vanrovel have ever done or ever will do. G mdby au«l la* kiud to your- self." Ho ileseetniisl to tin* tlrst landing, anil then. “Ob. Crailey.” be called with the air of having forgotten somethlug be had meant to say. "Yes. Tom?" "Tills morning nt th«« postofflee I foutiil a letter iuhlr«‘ss«sl to me. I open- ««<1 it and”— He hesitated, anil un easily shifted Ills weight from one fort to the other with a f««eble, deprecatory laugh. "Yes, what of It?” "Well, there seemed to be a mistake. 1 think It must liav«« been meant for you. Somehow, she—she's plckisl up a good many wrong Impressions, and, l.ml knows how. but she's mixed o ir names up and—am! I've left th«» letter for you. It's on tny table." He turtnsl ami, calling a final gisv«1- by over his shoulder, went clattering noisily down to tin* street and vanish- ««<1 from Crnl'.ey's sight. Noou found Toni far out on the Na tional road, creaking nlong over the yellow- «lust In it light wagon. Hi« stoppeil at every farmhouse anti cabin, nml where tin« young men work- “ Il li u, what's the matter, Tom t ed In the fields bailed them from the road or hltclie«! Ills hors«« to the fence and crossed the soft furrows to talk with them. At such times lie stood erect again ami spoke stirringly, find ing eager listeners. There was one question they asked him over ami over: “But are you sure the cull will come?” “As sure as that we stand here, And it will com«« liefor«« the week is • »»» ” out. W«> must • • lie ready! Often when In« left them they would turn from the work in hand, leaving it as it wns to lie untinislie«l in the fields, au<! make their way slowly and thoughtfully to their homes, while Tom climbed Into Ills creaking little wugon once more, only to fall into the sain» Anil, hunched over attitude. He had many things to think out before he faced Rouen and Crailey Gray again, ■nA more to tight through to the end with himself. Three days be took for it, three «lays driving through the soft May weather IwtiinJ the kind old jog t>-ottiiig horse. But on the evening of the thinl day he drove iuto txvn, with the stoop out of his shoulders and the luster back in bis eyes. He was haggard, gray, dusty, but lie had solve«! bis puzzle, and one thing wua clear in his mind us the thing that lie would do. He patted the old horse a hearty farewell as be left him with the liveryman from whom be bad hired him and strode up Main street with the air of a man who is going somewhere. It was late, but there w ere more lights than usual in the windows and more |>eople ou the streets. Au obi man, a cobbler, who bad left n leg nt Tippecanoe and re- place«! It with a wcxxlen oue, chastely decoratisl with designs of his own carvings, came stumping excitedly down the middle of the street, where bs walked for fear of the cracks In the wisslen pavement, which were danger ous to Ids art leg when he came from the Rouen House bar. as on the present occasion. lie hailed Tom by name, "You're the lad, Tom Vanrevel!” bo shouted, "You’re the man to lead the boys out for the glory of the state! You git the whole blame fire depart ment out and enlist 'em before morn ing. Take 'em down to the Rio Grande, you bear me? Ami you needn't be afraid of their puttin’ It out, if It ketches afire, neither!" Tom waved his band and passed on, but at the o|>en doors of the Catbolle church he stopped ami looked up and down the street, and then, unnoticed, entered to the dim Interior, where the few candles showetl only a bent old woman lu black kneeling at the altar, Tom knew where KUaabeth Carewe knelt each morning He step|>ed softly through the shadowy silence to her Continued Next Week rhe Guard punting office tarns out the lieet of work for very reasonable prices, Ij«tt««r heads, envelope cards, eta. i