The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 8, 1903, Page 3

man.” thank I'm g Ui on tireless wiggs! at you don't come The may feel & to risk it rely in a_ it old and celg job g to heaven see her in an down too hard I'm goi face and man, for life earth Ga and greeted m_ with cordialit n in paradise when this time, I much better o see more KDnow talk of you He sald she couid eciation of her at- you, wn in a minute.” site of himself. g at? how s ur lips. the eetly her old-fashic rn hink denly rway names vely ped from there n with one : w what 1 will do with you orth actually blushed, sprang up on the arm with y thing, what 1 Sallie when the springs, made me feel won she completely She's She with mama ever liv tuitively my . gives it to 4 e cease 1 wisH{ 1 could manage papa Sailie.” law move him rceful men, my own you are Somehow I cise if T tried. I strong character whim of a woman, augh i n t sther day who a far away . ‘my horse is nother\ride to- you ackpss the Ve over the deep it that e road arrow way that arouna the big trers. along while he of her pres- near = her! power in sat e side. . For and drank his heart ve 1 his lipe tc him_ intc nswer. He tell he silence his_pasion, had studied and tone and look and he had known her. ved him. And vel he was so skilled in the nse, so subtle a mis- art of polite society in deepest secrets are hid he was paralvzed now as drew near. He put it off and gave himself up to the face and form and , and He when she entered the ) ught her hand and Did he court you to- head smilingl *No, 10-mOorTow.’ ting his E on veranda 1's return. 1d boy? he eagerly a word. I'll do it to- partner. TI've been jous thing to run swer ‘yes 'y or ‘no,’ death vou'd rather live on hope a { things drift, don’t you?" I think I can understand for time in my life that awful look er's face on 1 for his lifs, lips of the foreman rst letter of the hat an_interest- By George, 1 up that 1 study. brother now was perfect Ju The warm tempered by wept fresh and invigorating earth t had been drenched rs night. The woods chorus of feather- the old oratorio of Gaston and Sallie shady river road the first day she ng with th ting love. Again ing along the traveled on d taken him drivi you remember this rgad?” she ver forget it. A d in the twilight angry mother. And just brow into a welcom mile for me.” I'm going to risk greater trou- , and take you a mile farther up the river to mill _site _at the rapid most beautiful and romantic the country. The river spreads sarter of a mile in width and goes and das down the rapids thousands of projecting rocks, a white fi you can It's full of tiny green islands with and rhododendron and wild grape their perfume sweetens the alr s along the water. These little some ten feet square, some an full of mocking birds nesting though since the mills were burn- ing the war nobody has lived near. The songs of these birds seem tuned to the music of the river.” “It must be a glimpse of fairyland!” he exclaimed “I know you will be thrilled with its romantic beauty. It's five miles from a house in any directio Gaston was silent. He made a resolu- tion in his soul that he would never leave that spot until he knew his fate. His heart began to thump now like a sledge- hammer. He looked down furtively at her and tried to imagine how she would look and what she would say when he should startle her first with some word of endearment or the sound of her name he had said over and over a thousand times in his heart and aloud when alone, but pever dared to use without its prefix. She saw his abstraction and divined in- tuitively the current of emotions with ich he was struggling, but pretended to notice it. He tied his horse at the mili and they slowly walked down the ik of the river. That is my isiand,” she cried, point- out inta_the river. “That third one n the group, running out from the point. ‘e can step from onme rock to another g this road to face your e kiss smoothed acre there ed was indeed an entrancing spot. The and seemed all alone in the middle of river when one was on it. It was not more than fifty feet wide and a hundred feet long, its length lying with the swift current. At the lower end of it a fine tree spread its dense shade, hangin; out over the still waters that stoo smooth eddy at its roots. On the upper side of this tree lay a big bowlder resting against its trunk and imbedded in 2 mass of clean white sand the water had filter- ed and washed and thrown there on some spring flood. Nsrr‘ar‘?'clhnlwd on this rock, sat down and leaned her bare head against its trunk. This is m throne,” she laughingly cried. He up leaned against the rock and looked t her with eyves through which the yearning, the hunger, the joy and the fear of al life were quivering. What a pic- ture she made under the dark, cool shad- ows! Her dress was again of spotiess Wiaie bt scemed now to have been woven out of the foam of the river. Her throat was bare, her cheeks fiushed and her wavy hair_the wind had blown loose hundred stray ringlets about her neck. Her lips were trembling smile at his speechiess admira- face and with a tion “You seem to have been struck dumb,” she said. “Isn't this glorious?” 3 “Beyond words, Miss Saliie. I didn't know there was such a spot on the earth.” This is my favorite perch. Art and wealth could never make anything like this. I could come here and sit and dream all day long if mamma would let me.” He tried to begin the story of his love, but every time his tongue refused to move. He was trembling with nervous hesitation and began to dig a hole in the sand_with his heel. What is the matter with you to-day? I never saw you so serious and moody.” Just then a female mocking bird in her modest dove-colored dress lit on a sway- ing limb whose tips touched the still wa- ter of the eddy at their feet and her proud mate, with head erect, far up on the top- most twig of g¢he ash struck softly the first note of his immortal love poem, the dropping song. .asten, he's going to sing his dropping song!” he cried in a whisper. nd they listened. He sang his first anza in a low, dreamy voice, and then, as the sweetness of his love and the glory of his triumph grew on his bird soul, he lifted his clear notes higher and higher until the woods on the banks of the river rang with its melody. < His mate turned her eyes upward and quietly twittered a sweet little answer. His response rang like a silver trumpet far up in the sky. He sprang ten feet into the ‘air and siowly dropped singing, singing his long trilling notes of melting sweetness. He stopped on the topmost twig, sat a moment, never ceasing his matchless song, and then began to _fall downward from limb to limb toward his mate, pouring out his 2oul in mad abandonment of joy, but growing softer, sweeter, more tender as he drew nearer. They could see her tremble now with pride and love at his approach, as she glanced timidly upward and answered him with maiden modesty. At last, when he reached her side, his song was so low and sweet and dreamlike it could scarcely be heard. He touched the tip of her beak with a bird kiss, they chirped and flew away to the woods together. Gaston determined to speak or die. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, and he was trembling from head to foot. He had meant to pour out his love for her like that bird in words of passionate beauty, but all he could do was to say with stammering voice low and tense with emotion:, “Miss Sallie, T love you! He had meant to say “Sallie,” but at the last gasp of breath as he spoke, his courage had falled. Hé did not look up at first. And when she was silent he timidly looked up, fearing to hear the an- swer or read it in her face. She smiled at him, and broke into a low peal of joy- ous laughter. And there was a note of in her laughter that was contagious “Please don't laugh at me,” he stam- mered, smiling himseif. She buried her face in her hands and laughed again. She looked up at him with her great blue eyes wide cpen, danc- ing with fun and wet with tears “Do you know, ft's the funniest thing in the world, you are the sixth man who has made lové to me on this rock within and again she laughed in his 00k here, Miss Sallie, this is cruel.” “Dear old' rock. It's enchanted. It never fails!” and she laughed softly again patted the rock with her hand. urely you have tortured me enough. Have some pity."” “It is a pitiable sight to see a big, elo- quent man stammer and do silly things, sn't 112" “Please give me your answer,” he cried, still trembling. “Oh, it's not so serious as all that!"” she said with dancing eyes. “I'm in the dust at your feet.” “You mean in the sand. Did you know that you dug a hole in that sand deep enough to bury me in? I thought once you were meditating murder by the ex- pression on your face.” “Please give me one earnest look from your eyes,” he pleaded. “You're 'a terrible disappointment,” she answered, leaning back and putting her hands behind her head thoughtfully. His heart stood still at this unexpected speech, “How?" he slowly asked, looking down at the sand agaln “Because,” she said in her old tantaliz- ing tone, “I expected so much of you.” “Then you don’t class me with the other poor devils at least?” Le asked hopefully. *“No, no; they were handsome boys and made me beautiful apeeches. But you are distinguished. You are a man that every— body would lcok at twice in a_crowd. You are a famous young orator who can hold thousands breathless with eloquence. I thought you would make the most beauti- ful speech. But you acted like a school- boy, stammered, looked foolish and paw- ed’ a hole in the ground.” Again she laughed. “T confess, Miss Sallie, T was never so overwhelmed with terror and nervousness by an audience before.” *And just one girl to hear!” “Yes_but she counts more with me than all the other millions, and one kind look from her eyes I would hold dearer at this moment than a conquered world's applause.” ¥ “That’s fine. That's something like it! Say more!” she cried. is face clouded and he looked earnest.- 1y at ber. ““Come, come, Miss Sallie, this is too I have torn my heart’s deepest long cruel. secrets open to you and tremblingly laid my life at your feet, and you are laugh- ing at me. I have paid you the highest homage one human soul can offer to an other.” Surely I deserve better than this?" ““There, you do. Forgive me. I have seen so much shallow lovemaking I am never quite sure a boy’s in dead earnest.” She spoke now with ‘seriousness, “You cannot doubt my seriousness, T have spoken to you this morning the first words of love that ever passed my lips. One chamber of my soul has always been sacred. It was the throneroom of Love, reserved for the one woman waiting for me somewhere whom I should find. I would not allow an angel to enter it, and I hid it from the face of God. I have opened it this morning. It is yours.” She softly slipped her hand in his and (rtmbllnfil)’ said, while a tear stole down her cheek: *“I do love you!” He bent over her hand and kissed it, and kissed it, while his frame shook with uncontrollable emotion. Then, looking up through his dimmed eyes he said: “‘My darling, that was the sweetest mu- sic, that sentence, that I shall ever hear in this world in all the worlds beyond it in eternity ““When did you first begin to love me?” she asked. “I don’t know. But I loved you the first moment you looked into my face while T was speaking that day. And I recognized you instantly as the dream of my soul. I have loved you forever, ages before we were born in this world; some- where our souls met and knew and loved. And I've been looking for you ever since, When I saw you there in the crowd that day looking up at me with those beauti- ful blue eyes I felt like shouting. ‘I have found her! I have found her!’ and rushing Lo 00T side lest T should not see you agai "It is strange—this feeling that we have known each other forever. The moment you touched my hand that first day a sense of perfect content and joy in liv- ing came over me. 1 couldn’t remember the time when I hadn't known you. You seemed so much a part of my inmost thoughts and evervday life. 1 laughed this morning .from sheer- madness of joy when you told'me your love. I knew you were going to tell me to-day. You tried yesterday, but 1 held you back. I want- ed you fo tell me here at this beautiful spot, that the music of this water might alwdys sing its chorus with the memory of your words.” d"Lm me kiss your lips once,” he plead- ed. 5 “No, you shall hold my hard and kiss that. " Your touch thrills every nerve of my being Jike wine. It is enough. I prom- ised mamma I would never allow a man to kiss me without asking her. And we are like loving comrades. 1 couldn’t vio- late a promise to her. I will, when she says so."” Then T'll ask her. y side.”” Yes, 1 believe she loves you because “What did you whisper to her that night when we came late and you said she would be angry?”’ *Told her I loved you. . “If I could only have caught that whis- per then! You don’t know how it delights me to think your mother likes me. couldn’t help loving her. It seems to me a divine seal on our lives.” “Yes, and what speclally delights me is, you have completely captured papa, and he’s so hard to please.” You don’t say so! “Yes, he’s been preaching you at me ever since you came the first time. I pre- tended to be indifferent to draw him out. He would say, ‘Now, Sallie, there’s a man for you—no pretty dude, but a_man, with a kingly eye and a big brain. That's the kind u?a man who does things in the world and makes history for smaller men to read.’ And then I'd say, just to ag- gravate him, ‘But papa, he's as poor as Job’s turkey!” 2 “Then you ought to have heard him. ‘Well, what of it? You can begin in a cabin’ like your mother and I did. He's Bot a better start than I had, for he has a better training!” " “l am certainly glad to hear that!” Gas- ton cried with elation. “You may be. For papa is a man of such intense likes and dislikes. The first thing that made my heart flutter with fear was that he might not like {uu. He loves me intensely, and I love him devotedly. I could not marry without his consent.” You are so entirely different from any other beau 1 ever had I couldn’t imagine what papa would think of you. You wear such a serious face, never go into society, care nothing for fine clothes and are so care- less that you even hung your feet out of the buggy that first d: 1 took you to drive. 1 was glad to have you in the woods and not in town. The boys would have guyed me to death. In fact you are the contradiction of the average man I have known, and of all the men I thought as g girl I'd marry some day. I am so glad papa likes you.” That evening when they reached the house she hurried through the hall to her mother, who was standing on the back porch. ' There was a sudden swish of a dress, a Kiss, another! and another! And then the low murmur of a mother’s voice like the crooning over a baby. CHAPTER XIL THE MUSIC OF THE MILLS. When Gaston reached his home that night St. Clare had gone to bed. It was 1 o'clock. He could not sleep yet," so he sat in the window and tried to realize his great happiness as he looked out on the green lawn with its white graveled walk glistening in the full moon. “The world is beautiful, life is sweet a;\d @God is good!” he cried in an ecstasy of joy. e sat there in the moonlight for an hour dreaming of his love and the great, strenuous life of achievement he would live with her to inspire him. It was too £apd to be true. And yet it was the la est living fact. Like throbbing music the words were ringing in his heart, keep- ing time with the rhythm of its beat, “I do love you ‘And theg he did something he had not done for Years—not since his bovhood— he knelt in the silence of the mooniit room and prayed. Love the great revealer had led him into the presence of God. The impulse was spontaneous and resistless. “Lord, I have seen thy face, heard thy voice and felt the touch of thy hand to- day! I bless and praise thee! Forgive my doubts and fears and sins, cleanse and make me worthy of her whom thou has sent as thy messenger!” So he poured out his_soul. ¥ Next morning he grasped St. Clare’s hand as he entered the room. “Bob, I'm the happiest man in the world.” ““Congratulations! You loolg it."” “She loves me. I'd like to€limb up on the top of this house and shout it until all earth and heaven could hear and be glad with me! “Well, don’t do it, my boy; father first.’ “‘She says he likes m ‘Then you're elected. T'm going to tackle him before I go home.” “Don’t rush him. There's a supersti- tion prevalent here that the old gentleman has no idea of ever letting his daughter leave thag home and that he will never give his consent when driven to the wall, unless his son-in-law that is to be will agree to settle down there and take his Yla(‘e in those big mills. He has two great oves, his daughter and his mills, and he doesn’t mean to let either one of them go if he can help it.” “Do you believe it's true?’ Yes, I do. How do you like the idea?" “It's not my style. I've a pretty clear idea of what I'm going to do in this world.” ““Well you’d better begin to haul in your Xlk‘ safls and study cotton goods, is my advice. 'll manage him.” don’t know about it, but if you've got her vou're the first man' that ever got far enough to measure himself with the gen- eral. T wish you luck.” “You the same, old chum. May you con- quer Boston and all the Pilgrim Fathers!” ““Thanks. The vision of one of them d turbs my dreams. One will be enoug Then followed six golden days or the banks of the Catawba. Every day he in- sisted with bovish enthusiasm on return- ing to that rock and seating her on her throne. He called her his queen and wor- shiped at her feet. He had the friendliest little chat with her mother and told her how he loved her daughter and ho*ved for her approval. She answered with frankness that she was glad and would love him as her own sop, but -that she disapproved of kissing and extravagant lovemaking until they were ready to be married and their engage- ment duly announced, So"he could only hold Sallie’s hand and kiss the tips of her fingers and the lit- tle dimples where they joined the hand, and sometimes he would hold it against his own cheek while she smiled at him. But when they rode homeward one evening he dated to put his arm behind her, high on the phaeton’s leather cush- fon, as they were going down a hill, and then lowered it a little as they started up the grade. She leaned back and found it there. At first she nestled against it very timidly and then trustingly. She looked into his face and both smiled. "l’gn'l!:h’a! ?If‘e. Sallie?"” “Yes, s—I don’t think mamm:; ould mind that, do you?” iy “af ]clourse not."” “Well, I never promised not to lean back in a phaeton, did 17" ~Certainly not, and it's all right.” Toward the end of the weefi the gen- eral began to show him a grave, friend- ly interest. He invited Gaston to go over the mills with him. The mills were lo- cated back of the wooded cliffs a quarter of a mile up the river. There were now four magnificent brick buildings stretch- ing out over the river bottoms at right angles to its current. And there was .a big dyehouse, a ginning-house and a cot- tonseed oil mill. The general stood on ;lr(.ren hilitop and proudly pointed it out to »Isn’'t that a grand sight, young man? We employ 00 hands down there and consume hundreds of bales of cotton a day. We began here after the war with- out a cent, except our faith and is magnificent water power. Now look 'You have cerlaln!x done a great work,” sald Gaston. “T had no idea you had so many industries in the inclosure.”" » “Yes, I sit down here on the hill some I know she’s on see her throbbing soul. I dream of the day when tnose swift fingers -will weave their fab- rics of gold and clothe the whole South in splendor—the South 1 love and for which I fought and have yearned over through all these years. Ah, young man, 1 wish you boys of brain and genius would quit throwing yourselves away in law and dirty politics and devote your powers to the South’s development ! ‘“Yes, but general, the people of the South had to go into politics instead of business on account of the enfranchise- ment of the negro. It waS\a matter of life and death.’ . “I-didn’t do it.” 'No, sir, but others did for you.” ‘How?" he asked incredulously, just a tehich of wounded pride. “Well, how many negroes do you employ in these mills?"” “None. We don't allow a negro to come inside the inclosure.” “Precisely so. You have prospered be- cause you have got rid of the negro.” T've simply let the negro-alone. Let other§ do the same.” “But everybody can’t do it. There are now 4,000,000 of them. You've simply shift- ed the burden on others’ shoulders. You haven’t sofved the problem.” 1f we had less politics and more busi- we would be better off.” But the whole trouble is, general, we can’t have more business until politics has settled some things.” “Bah! You're throwing yourself away in, politics, young man. 0 me, sir, politics is a religionn.” “‘Religion! Politics! 1 didn’t know you could ever mix 'em. I thought they were about as far apart as heaven is from hell!” exclaimed the general. “They ought not to be, sir, whatever the terrible facts. 1 believe that the Govern- ment is the organized virtue of the com- munity, and that politics is religion in action. ‘Well, that's a new idea.” “It's coming to be more and more recog- nized by thoughtful men, general. 1 be- lieve that the State is now the only or- gan through which the whole people can search for righteousness, and that the progress of the world depends more than ever on its integrity and purity.” Vel you've cut out a blgjob Lor your- self, if that's your ideal. My idea of poll- tics IS a pig pen. The way to clean it is to kill the pigs.” Gaston laughed and shook his head. ‘When they returned from the mills Mrs, Worth drew the general into her room. “‘Did he ask you for Sallie?” “No, the young galoot never mention- ed her name. 1 thought he would. But I must have ‘scared him." ou didn’t quarrel over anything?” o; but 1 found out he had a mind of own. o have you, sir."” with n CHAPTER XIIL THE FIRST KISS. “Why didn't you ask him yesterday?” cried Sallie, as she entered the parlor the next morning. “Darling, 1 was scared out of my wits. ‘We got crossways on some question we were discussing and he snorted at me once, and every time I tried to screw up my courage to speak a lump got in my throat afid I gave it up. I thought I'd wait a day or two until he should be in a better humor.” “He's gone away to-day,” she said with disappointment. “I'm glad of it; I'll write him a letter.” “If you had asked him yesterday it would have been all right. He told me so when he left this merning with a very tender tremor in his voice.” “‘But it will be all right, sweetheart, when I write.” ‘But 1 wanted my ring,” she whispered. “You shall have it,” he sald, as he seiz- ed her hand and led her to a seat. ‘“Have you got it with you?’ she asked with excitement. “Let me see it quick.” He drew the little box from his pocket, withdrew the ring, concealing it in his hand, slipped it on her finger and kissed it. She threw her hand up into the light to_see it. Oh, it is glorious! It's the big green diamond Hiddenite I saw at the exposi- tioi It is the most beautiful stone I ever saw, and the only one of its kind in size »and color in the world. Professor Hidden told me so. I tried to get papa to buy it for me. But he laughed at me, and - said it was childish extravagance. Charlie, dear, how could you get it?” “That's a little secret. "But there are to be no secrets between us any more. 1 had a little hoard saved up from my mother’s estate for the greatest need of my life, Jconféss my extravagance. “You aré a matchlegs lover. I am the proudest and happlest girl that breathes.” “Nothing is toe good for you—I wish I could make a greater sacrifice.” ““Wait till 1 show it to mamma,” and she flew to her mother’'s room. She re- turned immediately, looking at the ring and kissing it. “‘Couldn’t show it to her; she had com- Pfl.n"' she said. “Allan is talking to h Let's get out of the house, dear. I hate that man like a rattlesnake.’ “Don’t be silly; 1 never cared a snap for him.” “I know you didn't, but,there is a poison_about him that tainfs the air for me. Get your horse and let's go to our place at the old mill.” They soon reached the spot, and with a laugh she sprang upon the rock and took her seat against the tree. “‘Now, dear, humor. this whim of mine. I've grown 'superstitious since you've made me happy. 1 have a presentiment of evil because that man was in the house. I am going to take the ring off and put it on your hand again out here, where only the eyes of our birds will see, and the river we love will hear.” “That will be nicer. I somehow feel that my life is built on this dear of rock,” she answered soberly. He' took the ring off her finger. dipped it in the white foam of the river, kissed it and placed it on her hand. “Now the spell is broken, isn't 1t?” she cried, holding it out in the sunlight a mo- ment to catch the flash of its green dia- mond denth. “T've another token for you. will not eves This you t show to your mother* or father.” bent low over a tiny pack- age he unfolded. “This is the - first medal I won at cok- lege,’ he continued, “the first victory of my life.. It was the force that deter mined my character. It gave me an in- flexible wil. I worked at a tremendous disadvantage. Others were two years ahead of me in study for the contest. I locked myself up In my room day and night for ten months and took just enough food and sleep for strength to work. 1 worked seventeen hours a day, except Sundays, for ten months without an hour of play. I won it brilllantly. Ev- ery line cut on its gold surface stands for a thousand aches of my body. Every lit- tle pearl set in it grew in a pain of that struggle which set its seal on my inmost life. came out of those ten months a man. I have never known the .whims of a b[(‘)ydslnce." " “And you engraved someth! back to mt’!')e ine on the iYes, can’t you read it?" My eyes are dim,” she whispered. ‘It is this: ‘In the hand manhood’s /%’enderesl love T bring to theé my boy- 0od’s_brightest dream.” T was a man when I woke, but T have never lived till you taught me. Keep this as a pledge of eternal love. It's the only little trinket I ever possessed. The world will see our ring. Don’t let them see this. It is the seal of your sovereignty of my doul in life, in death and bevond. Will you make me this eternal pledge Into the uttermost, Unto the echoed. ““And now what can I <ay or do for you when you show me in_this spirit of prod- igal sacrifice how dear I am in your eyes?” “Those words from your enough,” he declared. “I'll give you more. T'm going to give you just a little bit of myself. I haven't asked mamma, but we are engaged now— come closer."” She placed her beautiful arms around his neck and pressed her IIIM upon his in the first rapturous kiss of love. “No, no more. It is enough,” tested. she murmured. uttermost,” he solemnly lips are she pro- nights in the moonlight and look into this . valley, and the hum of th is like ravishing music. T:: r'::gm:l‘:g seems to me to be a living thing, with millions of fingers of steel and a great, = == AR W\ CHAPTER XIV. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER. He was at home now, waiting impa- tiently for the general's answer to his !E(ter.y Two wegeks had passed and he had not received it. But she had ex- piained in her letters that her father had returned the day he left, had a talk with McLeod and left on important business. They were expecting his return at any moment. It was a new revelation of life he found in their first love letters. He pever knew that he could write hefore. He sat £ hours at his desk in nis law oifice and poured opt to her hus dreams, hopes and ambitions. All the poetry of ycu:h, and the passion and oeauty of life he put into those letters. /He wrote to her every day and she an- swered every other day. She wrote in half tearful apology that her mother dis- approved of a daily letter, and she added wistfully: “I should like to write you twice a day. Take the will for the deed, and as you love me be sure to continue yours daily."” And on the days the letter came with eager, trembling hands he seized it, with- out waiting for the rest of his mail or his papers. With set face and quick, nervous step he wouid mount the stairs to his office, lock his door and sit down to devour it. He would hold it in his hands sometimes for ten minutes just to laugh and muse over it and try to guess what new trick of phrase she had used to express her love. He was surprised at her brilliance and wit. He had not held her so deep a thinker on the serious things of life as these letters had showed, nor had he noticed how keen her sense of humor. He was so busy looking at her beautiful face, an ddrinking the love- light from her eyes, he had overlooked these things when with her. Now they flashed on him as a new treasure, that would enrich his life. At the end of two weeks when the gen- eral had not answered his letter he be- gan_to grow nervous. A vague feeling of fear grew on him. Something had happened o darken his future. He felt it by a subtle telepathy of sympathetic thought. He was gloomy and depressed all day after he had received and feast- ed on the wittlest letter she had ever writ- ten. What could it mean? he asked him- self a thousand times—some shadow had fallen across their lives. He knew it as clearly as if the ravelation of its misery were already unfolded. He went to the postoffice on the next day he was to recelve a letter, crushed with a sense of foreboding. He waited until the mail was all distributed and the general delivery window flung open be- fore he approached his box. He was afraid_to look at her letter. He slowly opened the box. There was nothing in it! “Sam, you're not hold‘ng out my let- ter to tease me, old boy?” he asked pathetically. Sam was about to joke him about the uncertainties of love, when his eye rested on his grawn face. “Lord no, Charlie,” he protested: “you know I wouldn’t treat you like that.” “Then loock again, you may have dropped it.” Sam turned and looked carefully over the floor, over and under his desks and tables and returned. “No, but it may have been thrown in- to the wrong bag by that fool mail clerk on the train. You may get it to-morrow." He turned away and walked to his office, forgetting his key in the open box. The vague sense of calamity that weighed on his heart for the past two days, now became reality. He sat in his office all the afternoon in a dull stupor of suspense. He tried to read her last letter over. But the pages would get biurred and fade out of sight, and he would wake to find he had been staring at one sentence for an hour. He knew his foster mother would be all sympathy and tenderness if he told her, but somehow he hadn’t the heart. She had led him to his love. He had been so boyishly and frankly happy boasting to her of his success, he sicken- ed at the thought of telling her. He went out for a walk in the woods, and lay down alone beside a brook like a wounded animal. The next day he watched his box again with the hope that Sam’s guess might be right, and the missing letter would com But, instead of the big square-cut enve- lope he waited for, he received a bulky letter in an old-fashioned masculine handwriting with the post mark of Inde- pendence, and a mill mark in the upper left hand corner. He did not have to look twice at that letter, It was the sealed verdict of his Jury. He locked his office door. It was long and rambling, full of a kindly sym- pathy expressed in a restrained manner. He could not believe at iirst that so out- spoken a man as the general could have written it. The substance of its mean- ing, however, was plamn enough. He meant to say that as he was not in a position to ' make a suitable home at present for his wife, and as he dis- approved of long engagements, it seemed better that no engagement should be en- tered into or announced. He stared at this letter for an hour trying to grasp the mystery that la back of its halting, half-contradictory sentences. He did not know till long afterward that the general had written Il& with two blue eyes tearfully watching him, and waiting to read it; that now and then there was the sound of a great sob, and two arms were around his neck, and a still white face lying on his shoul- der, and that tears had washed all the harshness and emphasis out of what he had meant to write, and all but blotted out any meaning to what he did write. But withal it was clear enough in its import. It meant that the general had haltingly but authoritatively denied his suit. He instantly made up his mind to ask an interview at his home, and know piainly all his reasons for this. change of attitude. He wrote his letter and posted it immediately by return mail. He knew that the request would precipitate a crisi: and he trembled at the outcome. Either her father would hesitate and receive him, or end it with a crash of his im- perious woll. CHAPTER XV. A BLOW IN THE DARK. noon mail brought Gaston no At night he felt sure it would The answer. come. When the wagon dashed up to the post- office that night it was fifteen minutes late. He was walking up and down the street on the opposite pavement along the square, keeping under the shadows of the trees. He turned, quickly crossed the street, and stood inside the office, ing with a feeling of strange abstraction to the tramp of the postmaster's feet back and forth as he distributqd the mail. He never knew before what a Yragedy might be concealed in the thrust of a bit of folded paper into a tiny glass-eyed box. As he waited, fearing to face his fate, he remembered the pathetic figure of a gray-haired old man who stood there one day hanging on that desk softlyj talking to himself. He was a stranger at the springs, and they were alone in the office together. Now and then he brushed a tear from hi= eyes, glanced timidly at the window of the general de- livery, staring at every quick movement inside as though afraid the window had opened. Gastom had gone up close to the old man, drawn by the look of anguish in his dignified face. The'stranger in- tuitively recognized the sympathy of the mevement, and explained tremblingly: “My son, I am waiting for a message of life or death”—he faltered, seized his hand, adding, “and I'm afraid to see it!"" Just then the window opened and he clutched his arm and gasped, with dilated staring eyes: “There, there it's “come! You go for me, my son, and ask while I pray!—I'm afraid.” How well Gaston remembered now with what trembling eagerness the old man h: broken the seal, and then stood with head bowed low, saying: “I thank and bless thce, O Mother of Jesus, for this hour!” And looking up into his face with tear-streaming eyes he cried in a rich low voice like tender music: “How beautiful are the feet of them that bring glad tidings!” He could feel now the warm pressure of his hand as he walked out of the office with him. How vividly the whole scene came rushing over him! He thought he sym- pathized with his old friend that night, but now he entered into the fellowship of his sorrow. Now he knew. At last he drew himself up, walked to his box and opened it. His heart leaped. A big square-cut envelope lay in it, ad- dressed to him in her own beautiful hand. He snatched it out and hurried to, his office. The moment he touched it, his heart sank. It was light and thin. Evi- dently there was but a single sheet of paper within. He tore it opened and stared at it with parted lips and balf-seeing eyes. The first word struck his soul with a deadly chill. This is what he read: My Dear Mr. Gaston: - 1 write in obedience Lo the wishes of my parents to say our engagement must end and our correspondence cease. I can- not explain to you the reasons for this. I have acquiesced in their judgment, that it is best “I return your letters by to-morrow’'s mail, and mama requests that you re- turn mine to her at Oakwood immediate- ly. “I leave to-night on.the limited for At- lanta, where I join a friend. We go to Savannah and thence by steamer to Bos- ton, where 1 shall visit Helen for a month. Sincerel SALLIE WORTHL." For a long time he looked at the letter in a stupor of amazement. That her father could coerce. her hand into writ- ing such a brutal commonplace ndte s a revelation of his power he had never dreamed. And then his anger be gan to rise. His fighting blood from soldier ancestors made his nerves tingle at this challenge. He took up the letter and read it again curiously studying each word. He opened the folded sheet hoping to find some de- tached message. There was nothing in- side. But he noticed on the other side of the sheet a lot of indentures as though made by the end of a needle. He turned it back and studied these dots under dif- ferent letters in the words made by the needle points. He spelled— “My darling—unto the uttermost!” ‘And then he covered the note with kisses, sprang to his feet and looked at his watch. It was now ten-thirty. ,The limited left Independence at eleven o'clock and made no stops for the first hundred miles to- ward Atlanta. But just to the south where the railroad skirted the foot of Kings Mountain, there was a water tank on the mountain side where he knew the train stopped for water about midnight. With a fast horse he could make the eighteen miles and board the limited at this water station. The only danger was if the sky should cloud over and the star- light be lost it would be difficult to keep in the narrow road that wound over the semi-mountainous hills, densely wooded, that must be crossed to make it. “I'll try it!"" he exclaimed. ‘“‘Yes, I will do it!"” he added setting his teeth. “I'll make that train.” He got the best horse he in the livery stable, saw that girths were strong, sprang on and gal- loped toward the south. It was a quarter to eleven when he started, and it seemed a doubtful undertaking. The limited would make the run from Independence, fifty-two miles, in an hour at the most. If she were on time it would be close shave for him to make the eighteen miles. The sky clouded slightly before he reached the mountains. In spite of his vigilance he lost his way and had gone a quarter of a mile befure a rift in the cloud showed him the north star sud- denly, and he found he had taken the wrong road at the crossing and was go- ing straight back home. Wheeling his horse, him, and dashed at through the dense woods. Just as he got within a mile of the tank he heard the train blow for the bridge crossing at the river near by “Now, my boy,” he cried to his horse, patting him. Now your level best!" The horse responded with a spurt of desperate 'speed. He had a way of handling a horse that the animal respond- ed to with almost human sympatny end intelligence. He seemed to breathe his own will into the horse’s spirit. He flew over the ground, and reached the traim just as.the fireman cut off the water and the engineer tapped his bell to start. He flung his horse’s reins over the hitch- 4ng post that stood near the silent little station-house, rushed to the track, and sprang on the day coach as it passed. He had intended to ride fifty miles on this train, see his sweetheart face to face —learn the truth from her own lips— and then return on the up-train. He hoped to ride back to Hambright before day and keep the fact of his trip a se- cret. Now a difficulty arose—a very simple one—that he had not thought of for a moment. She was in a Pullman sleeper of course, and asleep. There were three sleepers, one for At- lanta, one for New Orleans and one for Memphis. He hoped she was in the Atf- lanta sleeper as that was her destinatfon, though if that were crowded in its lower berths she might be in either of the others. But how under heaven could he locate her? The porter probably would not know her. He was puzzled. The conductor 'ap- proached and he paid his fare to the next stop, fifty miles. Ve an important message for a p» senger in one of these sleepers, captain,” he exclaimed. I have ridden across the mountains to catch the train here.” All right, sir,” sald the genial con- ductor. “Go right in and deliver it. You 1o like you had a tussle to get here.” It was a close shave,” Gaston replied. He stepped into the Atlanta sleeper and encountered the dusky potentate who presided over its aisles. The porter looked up from the shoes he was shinjng at Gaston’s disheveled bhair and gave him no welcome. Gaston dropped a half dollar into his hand and the porter dropped the shoes and grinned a royal welcome. nyting I kin do fer ye, boss? ot any ladies in your car?” assir, three un ‘em. Young, or old?" “One young un, en two ole uns.” Did the young lady get on at Inde- pendence?” could find his saddle he put spurs to full speed back ing to Atlanta?" “Yassir.” she very beautiful?"” ‘Boss, she's de purtiest young lady I eber laid my eyes on—but look lak she been cryin’ “Then I want you to wake her. see her.” “Lordy boss, I cain do dat. Hit er ergin de rules.” “But, I'm bound to see her. I've ridden eighteen miles across the mountains and scratched my face all to pleces rushing through those woods. I've a message of the utmost importance for her.” “Cain do it, boss; hit's ergin de rules. But you can go wake her yoself, ef you'se er mind ter. I cain keep you fum it. She's dar in number seben.” Gaston hesitated. “No, you must wake her,” he insisted, dropping another half dollar in the porter’s hand. The porter got up with a grin. He felt he must rise to a great occasion. “Well, T des bumble rcun, de berth en mebbe she wake herse’f, en den I tell her.” Just then the electric bell overhead rang and the index pointed to 7. “Dar now, dat's her callin’ me, sho!™ He approached the berth. “What kin I do fur ye, ma’'m?" be whispered. “Porter, who is that ycu are talking to? It sounds like some one I know.” ““Yassum, hit's young gent name er Gas- ton, jump on bode at the water station —say he got 'portant message fur you.” ‘Tell him I will see him in a moment.” The porter returned with the message. “You des walit in dar, in number one —hit's not made up—twell she come.” he_added. There was the soft rustle of a dressing gown—he sprang to his feet, clasped her hand passionately, kissed it, and silently she took her seat by his side. He still I must