The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 18, 1906, Page 3

eyes intently watching the smoke curl- ing up from behind the chair, which from their point of observation was the evidence of its occupancy. Now roam uncertainly about; now they te and seem about to retreat. Ah! they sparkle with merriment T intrude?” queried a laughing breaking the silehce, * No. Do 1?” inquired the man, ris- ing from the chair. “That, sir, cannot be, since it is your privacy that is invaded.” Ah!” expressive of satisfaction. “I was conscious of the odor of a very good cigar, which suggested the thought that there must surely be a man in the immediate vicini “A not fllogical conclusion, mitted. ‘The thought also occurred to me that if I followed the smoke of that cigar far enough I might find a2 man at the he ad end "of it—perhaps a very lonesome man. 8o I trailed you.” “Your theory certainly possess the merit of practical demonstration. You don’t object to the cigar?” “On the contrary, I adore a cigar. It gives one such a comfortable feeling to know that a man is somewhere abcut the place.” Now that the man is discovered, what would you suggest? Will you come down, or—shall T come up?” “Neither, if you please, sir. 1 might suggest a telephone, if you feel unequal to the distance.” “Very sorry, but I don't happen to have one about me. “Very well, then, if you are really inspired by a desire to make the best of a bad situation, you might move your chair over her indicating a space in front of the landing, “and I will possess myself of the gallery, and you may talk to me until Jack returns, This Is perfectly lovely she ex- claimed, a moment later, when he had drawn the big chair across the room, and she had seated herself on the little bene e arrangement - extending around the landing. “T will be the au- dlence, and you may be the actor,,if you please. Fancy me the gallery—a whole row of little gallery gods— “Rather, queen of the heavens,” he gently interposed - “Thank vou, most gallant mummer,” making him a pretty courtesey. “Queen, then since your fancy is better pleased ‘And what part do you think me best fitted to enact?” he inquired, entering o the spirit of her mood. ‘Is it possible you do not know? Why, olc melodrama, to be sure. Arrayed the picturesque garb of the plains, you are quite the ideal hero. Oh, ves, we have ct before!” she laughed, in answer to s look of surprised inquiry, “and I have seen you gorgeously arraved in all your habiliments of war.” ‘Ah The drama is developing most unexpected and no less interesting possibilities. Have a indeed! e, sir. It may develop un- desirable situations as well!” And whai may havg been our relations upon this particular ot&s(on. may I ask?”’ Re sir, you are positively embar- rassing. Permit me to assure you that my intentions are honorable—quite hon- orable drawn Sir “Or be that we were soul afinities 10 a blessed reunjon—'" mere corporeal entities that meet only to part tomorrow?’ he in- with an assumption of serious- today quired, ness We are likely to part very soon at the vou have set, sir. I confess my in- ty to follow you,” she declared, with derable spirit. ““What, then. may we consider the pres- state of our relations—say a conser- ative estimate?” I refuse to force my acquaint- upon 2 man who regards it with utter indifference,” she declared, with impressive dignity. “Would a broader and more liberal in- etation tend to simplify matters and ance the acquaintance to any consid- ble degree?” he inquired, with fine inction. Pray, sir, do not concern yourself fur- I refuse absolutely to discuss the matter. It is really of no importance whether we have met befors, or whether we ever meet again. Why I ever men- foned the ridiculous subject is quite be- d me. I shall wish you good-night, she told him, with chilling and dig- nified composure, rising from her seat, preparing to take her departure. “Pardon me, but it is of the utmost importance—to me,” he qualified, with rare good judgment. “Believe me,” he sald, quite humbly, fully alive to the serious nature of his offense, “‘the seem- ing indifference which vou so justly con- demn is but an assumption—a weak sub- terfuge—a cloak, as it were, to conceal my real ecmotons. And now that T have essed my poor defense, I trust you will be generous and assist me to identify myself.” Was the man quite serious, or was he going from bad to worse, and simply kicking his heels behind the guise as- sumed, and making merry at her ex- pense? fou may dispense with the cloak, If you please, sir. It ill becomes you if yot would know the truth. A man is sometimes judged by the coat that he wears. and it behooves him, In the pres- ent instance, to don his own and his best apparel,” was the somewhat molli- fled yet not entirely satisfied reply. ““Thank you,” he said, bowing contritely. “You are Very generous—as generous as are beautiful. I would say, did T not r ..at my temerity might suffer re- buke. In the meantime my identity re- mains to be established.” “Permit me to suggest that your te- will be less conspicuous and less lia! to suffer rebuke if you refrain from irrelevant observations,” she declared, with considerable asperity. “Would it not be well, then, to definite- ly establish the particular basis on which we are supposed to stand at the present moment " “To corroborate my assertion, yes—for no other reason. I shall be very generous —more generous than you deserve—" h, T knew it!” “I shall offer, say, three suggestions.” she continued, very frigidly, “which may serve to start your mental machinery to v working. Time—about eighteen months ego. Place—Colorado. Scene—harrowing. Now, sir.” “And if my mental machinery fails to perform the allotted task?” “The subject will then be dismissed for all_time. 7 can but feel that your recol- Jection should not be less than mine. All this should be very embarrassing to me. but it is not—it'’s annoying, pure and simple.” “1 have no alternative but to accept your conditions. 1Is there any limit to the game—time?” “Please to remember, sir, that this is not a game, but a very serious matter. 1 advise you to search well the hidden recesses of your memory. The toler- ance 1 am according you is merely to justify my assertion that we have met before—nothing more.” “Thank you,” he softly murmured, Y, BT ' tirely bowing his appreciation of the very great . consideration accorded him. “Your kind admonition is not lost upon me” \ Silence most profound fell upon the scene. Only the ticking of the little timepiece disturbed the stillness of the room, which seemed to grow deeper and more Intense with each swing of the tiny pendulum. The man seemed to be in deep and serious meditation, once or twice glancing up at his com- panion from his position back of the big easy chair over which he was leaning, as if, perchance, to recall sume connecting link which persisted in eluding him. The lady was serenely indifferent, and ap- parently interested in anything and everything in the room except the man, of whose presence she was en- oblivious. It was his fate that was hanging in the balance, and with that she had naught to do. “Ah, ves, 1 have it!” he exultantly exclaimed, suddenly breaking the si- lence. “You in the Grand Canyon. “"Cold—very cold!” she icily inter- rupted. “Burr'r!” shrugging - his shoulders. s, it was—and is!" did not allude to the particular de- gree of temperature, sir. 1 nierely meant that you were wrong--not even on the trail. Is not that a technical term of your profession that you should recognize?’ . “Quite true, indeed. Positively stupid of me not to recognize the vernacular of my profession.” No reply to this remark was vouch- safed, which approached rather near the danger line of facetiousness, and was hardly in keeping with the serious nature of the matter in hadd. Another lapse into silence, Finally, more speculatively than posi- tively, he said, “Perhaps you were In the Antlers, at the Springs, when it armer, but still some agaln interposed, with most discouraging indifference. “That is certainly a conservative es- timate. Now I should have said it was hot—hot as—" “Beware, sir “It could well be. However, that i# a mere matter of opinion.” “I have warned you, sir—I made no reference to the particular temperature of the incident. You are quite hope- less,” she told him despairingly, stu- diously averting her eyes. “I bel'eve I am, notwithstanding my one remaining chance. Is there really no hope of succor before taking my final plunge?” he was concerned to kno “Really, sir, your condition seems quite pitiable, but I fear, that I can do little for you,” she felt constrained to reply, but with considerable less seve- rity. 5 “I fear you fail to appreciate the very great disadvantage under which 1 am laboring. Verily, it is a search for the proverbial needle to discover myself in fhe mass of perplexities in which I have been involved during the past two years. Now I would sug- gest—" » “I do not care to entertain any sug- Zestions from you, sir,” she interposed, with @ififftulty refraining from laughing outright, her indignation not being proof against the supreme good nature of the man. “Can it be possible that I am really taxing your poor mentalities too severely—should I be more len- ient?” she sald, regarding him uncer- tainly, not quite satisfied that he was deserving of consideration. Her indecision was of short dura- tion—the woman triumphed. CHAPTER XVL A Man Who Dared. “Surely, sir you cannot have forgotten that terrible night out in the Colorado mountains, when the overland express, tearing down the mountain side in the dead of night, plunged headlong into a train of cattle? Ah, surely, you must remember that awful scene, far beyond the power of words to adequately por- tray. Those poor people who never knew what fate befell them, yet far more fortunate s than the miserable creatures to whom death finally came as a grateful deliverance. And those other poor creatures! How piteous their long drawn cries, almost human in their helpless appeals; how they echoed against the great mountain sides towering high above us—those black terrifying shadows of the night. And the scene—the whole wild. weird, terrible scene—lighted up by the flames of the burning cars relentlessly consuming everything within their reach, and man utterly powerless to stay thelir way.” “It was indeed terrible,” he said, with quiet seriousness. “And you—you Were everywhere present. Time after time vou went into the burning cars, returning with some unfortunate in your arms. Each time you disappeared into those Jroaring furnaces—they were little les#—I held my breath, fearing, dreading, lest you might neyer return. It seemed there must certainly be a limit to your strength if not to your will. Not until the cars were entirely wrapped In flames did you desist from your work of rescue, and then you set about mak- ing the wounded comfortable, working with untiring strength, doing the right thing at the right time, and with al- ways a kind and encouraging word for those In distress. “But, Oh! can death never be so ter- rible—so sacred—as to inspire respect in living man? Suddenly the terrifyiag and sickening cry of ‘robbers’ rang out. It was true—the dead were being rob- bed! Immediately all was commotion among the little band of survivers. Those who had retained a few scattered senses after © the first terrible shock simply and completely lost them in the presence of this new terror. I should not say all. T caught just a fleeting glimpse of a form I recognized dis- appearing into the little clump of trees whence the cry arose, and almost immediately several shots rang out. Such awful portent those shots seemed to ccho! I think my heart stoppeil beating for a time—the very atmos- phere seemed charged with terror: I was sure that you had been saved from the flames to die—Oh! so cruelly, it seemed—at the hands of those robbers, and vou had simply rushed to your death. An age seemed to pass before You emerged from the woods dragging two despicable looking objects after you, and dropping them on the ground in the full glare of the flames, warned them that if they attempted to escape, you would—do you remember what you told them?” she inquired, pausing abruptly and regarding him curfously. “I dare say an apology may be in order—even at this late day,” he re- plied, somewhat dubiously. “I shall not attempt to quote Jou literally for obvious reasons, but it is well that you should know what a very terrible man you can be upon occasion. You expressed the opinion that a well defined purging would have a beneficial were on the train stalled . effect not only upon the culprits them- selves, but upon . the community at large, which you seemed firmly con- vinced could best be accomplished by reduciug them to ashes. I think they believed you. I am surc I did, and I hoped, bad as they were, and as much as I disliked their company, they would not attempt to escape. We were taken away by the relief train just before daylight. I made inquiries for yoy, as 1 wished to thank you for the many lit- tle things you had done for me. but you had disappeare: ¥ “What you bhave said concerning my part in the unfortunate affair is in a measure true, to be sure, yet you ars pleased to place far too high an esti- mate upon what was the least une could do under such conditions,” ne told her, depreciatingly, after an interval of silence. “There is so little that one is able to accomplish under such grying circumstanges he feels that censure, rather than commendation, should be his portion—the: will is so great, the strength so small.” “Ah, yes! I know but too well. Onz never seems so utterly helpless as wheu a consciousness of the weakness of tae flesh compared. with the strength of the will is forced upon one. - A woman feels so weak and helpless when strength and courage are required—" “There is a strength and courage that man. knows naught of,” he gently but firmly interposed. “More tender hands than mine were at work that night as- suaging pain and thirst, and binding wounds. Softer words than mine gave courage to motherless children and child- less mothers, and strong men dazed and helpless. More loving arms than mine pillowed helpless heads and broken forms. Ah, ves! You were a ministering angel that night, and sometfmes I thought as T saw you flitting from one poor form to another, performing countless little offices that only a woman'’s heart could prompt, or hand could do, how much greater and nobler is the strength of her love; how much nearer the divine precept is the spirit of her sweet ministrations, than the brute strength on which men pride themselves.” . “And you—you really believe all this?” * she cried, almost incredulously, a suspi- clous moistening in her eyes. “Every word,” he replied, with solemn conviction. o S “Oh, that T might believe it as weil! That 1 might honestly -believe muyself worthy of such high esteem—such manly appreciation.” “Then, too, your. woman's wit came to the rescue when bandages were 8o serély needed, and more than one poor fsllow has fou to thank for your prompt sacri- fice—" “I forbid, sir: not another syliable!” she commanded. “You are dealing with suppositions entirely unjustifiable at this late day.” she declared, with an assump- tion of seriousness. My ideas are general, rather than spe- cific. T must admit, but sufficient to know- s, “1 fear, sir, that you are still on dan- gerous ground.” she again admonished. “Very well, we will rest the case—ad- mitting the sacrific he insisted. “You are convinced, then, that we have ally met before?” “I never doubted.” “And when, pray, dawn upon you?” “When you first entered this room.” Did she hear aright? Surprise and in- credulity were depicted upon her counten- ance as she silently regarded the man before her. “Am I to understand, sir, that you permitted me to believe vou did not recall our previous meeting, yet you were conscious of the fact from the very beginning?”* “Your expression is painfully plain correct.’” SR : “May T ask you, sir. to be equally plain and explain your motives? Possibly I can be made to see the joke. I am inclined to look upon the ridiculous side if one exists, but in this particular instance it seems somewhat obscure,” she replied, with calm cynicism, betokening no good. ‘Indeed, good lady, you flatter me: "Tis ro joke—but a play—a bit of melo- drama at the special request of the gal- lery—Queen of the heavens. You are pleased to pay my poor histrionic abilities a high compliment indeed." Her features, as she regarded this most excellent actor, slowly relaxed, and molded themselves into a pretty smile as the ridiculous nature of the situation be- came more apparent. “Well, of all-I am quite at a loss for the word I require. And so I carefully prepared a pitfall and deliberately proceeded to throw myself into it for your amusement, which was very obliging of me, was it not?" “If the part was not to your liking. you must remember that it was not of my choosing.”” he told her, impenitently. “None. the less, sir, 1 think you a very bad actor—I do not approve of your style in the least. I am unable to discover whether you are simply poking fun at me, or carrying a chip on your shoulder and inviting me to knock it off. Oh, I ‘am not so sure!” replying to a gesture of protest on his part. “I have an idea that T recognize certain belligerent ten- dencie: If it is the former, I object— seriously. If the latter, your desire may be gratified in a manner least expected, for be it known, T positively revel in a pitched battle with an able-bodied man, and 1 further give you falr warning, quarter will not be asked nor given. Now, sir, T consider myself absolved from all responsibllity of whatsoever kind or char- acte: ““I think you may consider yourself ab- solved from all responsibility,” he told fer. “There seems to be a most com- mendable desire extant to make me the architect of my own fortunes—or misfor- tunes. You are kind enough to corrob- orate a previous warning, to which [ now incline to believe I gave too little heed.” ‘“Indeed! And are you still playing a part, or—yourself? And what, pray, were you warned against, may T ask?”’ “I was warned against this same ag- gressiveness, of which you speak. That people—men in particular—must be sub- servient to your will.” “Go on, sir, if vou please! T trust you will not permit a false delicacy to withhold any part of this very timely warning ' you have received,” she told him, with chilling cynicism. “You may not be aware of the fact, but you make monkeys of men—drive them with a high hand—according to my did the face first informant,” coolly explained this reckless wretch. “Do 1? Indeed! And what if I do? Now I am angry—very, very angry, sir. 89 very angry 1 am not angry—if you can ‘uriderstand me—I am quite beyond.” “Yes, curious—that is the stage be- calmly replied the unscrupulous man, evigently bent upon bringing about his complete undoing. - ““You are right, sir—I am curious. And what more did this friend of mine— friend, I presume—warn you against?”’ ““To be sure, a very warm friend, who further aflvised me to beware of your ir- resistible fascinations—fatal to the aver- age man. That in affairs of the heart Yyou were quite impossible.” “Monstrous! Yeur informant was Jack, the rascal. I recognize his handiwork. He shall suffer a bad quarter of an hour tomorrow. And you—you listened to hlnx . than might bhe a . knowing that a man will not b 'HE. SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. NS et o ing Very gailant, sir, indced,” she told him, with withering easm. . “Yes, I confess. 1 did enter a protest wo—"" 7 . ‘Still, you were not compelled to lis- en.” “‘Quite true. T might-have choked the rascal, which 1 serfously contemplated, but there again a difficulty presented it- self. 1 should have been gallant, but an exceedingly rude guest—one may not choke one’'s host with impunity. After all, no harm has been done. The admon- ition, T am sure, was as unnecessary as well intended.” “Your meaning, sir, is still somewhat Obscure. What am 1 to infer by ‘unnec- essary? ' she demanded, her curiosity Still greater than her anger. “‘Simply that the young man entertained an exaggerated idea of the dangers against which he so considerately warn- €d me" was the somewhat ambiguqus reply. S “The conversation, 1 am free to admit. has taken rather a peculiar trend. I'must also admit that I feel at a certain disad- Yantage: but as it all seems quite clear 10 you perhaps you will be so good as to enlighten me—1 am still quite curious, You'zee. Just what do you mean? Do You mean that you concede me the benefit of the doubt? Or do vou think me a particularly disagreeable and undesiraby> sort” of person generally. and—well, to be perfectly frank, as you seem to encourage candor—am 1 to understand that you see nothing in me to commend, or to interest your lordship? Am I quits clear?” “Perfectly clear, but a trifle unjust to Yourself. 1 can conceive much, not alone to commend, but to interest. 1 can also conceive of men offering their hands. their hearts, their souls, their all, at the shrine of their heart's most fondly wor- shiped idol, each craving with all the ardor of human desire that he may be the elect of his fellows. Obviously, theh, the happiness of the one must be the migery of the many. Equally obvious, and no less providential, is the fact that this poor creature man is of opposing minds, and while many may strive for a coveted possession: others are content to stand aside and watch the struggle from afar with no greater interest than to see " the best man win." # _“Really, sir, you are most generous! If one must be so unforiunate as be re- garded with such utter and complete in- difference by even a comparative stran- Ber, it is at least gratifying to know that one is not necessarily responsible. All this is Intensely interesting and edifying. Do You mind telllug me the particular ideal to which your fancy turns in its untram- meled .ights? T am merely curious to know the peculiar ideas of a very peculiar man—and a very bold one, if he would know my private opinion.” “I am veally at a loss which to admire the more; your unquaunfied assurance, or my good nature in calmly sitting by and permitting myself to be maligned at the «hands of a reckless stranger. I .iink, t70, T am somewhat surprised at myself. The experience is certainly novel, and per- haps for that reason more Interesting repetition. Do you know,” she sald. looking at him some- what cyriously, ““I am half inclined to be- leve that you| may possess possibilities useful to me—if you are well disposed.” “I am amenable to any reasonable proposition,” -he replied, with becoming modesty. “For instance.” garding his reply, she continued. disre- “the advantage of by any chance, fancy himself in love, and declare hlmlefl at odd and.uncertain intervals, is incaleulable. Such little eccentricities on the part of your sex are more or less em- barrassing, and creative of a certain ‘cons! according to the ardor and ~with which they oecur. One A8 ed of many responsibilities and—Oh! can think of advantages too numerous to mentfon.” “We are sure to get on, if all your re- quirements are equally simple,”” he grave- ly assured her. “The idea is charming—positively allur- ing in the mere contemplation,” she de- clared, but whether sincere, or merely facetiously cynical, was not quite clear. “To begin with, I have a very unruly horse. . He has bebaved very badly., and has disgraced himself generally in the es- timation of several of my friends—he is also quite beyond my groom. I assume that you are an expert in the: manage- ment of horses. and [ shall expect vou to immediately take him in hand and ex- ert vour influence over his fractious spir- its. T have discovered that the man pos- sesses a similar spirit, and I shall close- ly observe his methods in dealing with the beast, and perhaps apply them to the man himself. if he behaves so badly again—beware, sir!” “I trust there will be no occasion for extreme measures—with man or beast,” he replied, with due gravity. B “Then It is quite understood—as you men say,” rising and offering him her hand and a very gracious smile as well. “Friends, then—good-night.” And sa it was that this man and this woman met once upon a time out™n that wild country under circumstances ' which try men’s souls. Each had unconscious- ly shown the other a depth and strength of character, a love and sympathy for their fellows of no common order, and after a lapse of time had been brought together by chance or some strangely or- dered plan. What was the portent? Were they mere creatures of circumstances— or were they molding life’s plastic forces in the strength and fullness of their own divine endowments? Who shall say? CHAPTER XVIL “Love, Indecd!™ The family and its guests attended serv- ices next morning in the little church nog far distant, as had been the custom of father and mother even before the mem- orable day when they had been joined in holy wedlock beneath the old roof. Pas- tors had come and gone; some called to positions of greater responsibility; others, they knew not whither. New churches and new creeds had come one after an- other, but the little family continued to worship in the ivy-covered little pile, sa- cred to the memories of the past. Cathalee was no less loval to the little house of worship, and not a few were the trips she made from the city for no other purpose than to attend the simple service, JIn which she seemed fo find a distinct pleasure and satisfaction. She had de- clared upon one occasion, in answer to a query propounded by a friend who mar- veled at this, to her, unaccountable ec- centricity, that she felt a sense of peace and repose within the walls of the little church that she had never experienced In the more imposing edifice in the city in which she was wont to worship. She liked the simple and sincere sermons; she dearly loved to look out on the green fields and waving branches, and breathe the sweet perfumes wafted in through the open windows. “And when,” she added, with characteristic enthusiasm, “the joy- ous volces of the little feathered song- sters mingle with the gladsome songs of man in one long sweet refrain, all nature Seems to be lifting up its voice and pour- ing out its Meart in glad rejoicing. Is it SR NG . not glorious, is it not sublime,” her en- thusiasm increasing, “to think—just to think—if we only knew ourselves better, or if the great laws of our being could be made clear to us, we might always be happy and content, and dwell in the par- adise of which e catch such a little glimpse when ouMsouls are en rapport. and our voices attuned to nature’s chords? " Ah, but it is unfortunate we know ourseives so little. Are we wil- fully ignorant, or is it such a great prob- lem that we cannot understand, and are We never to know?”’ She might be old- fashioned, she admitted, when further pressed, but she preferred her religion distinct from a socfal function. Yes, she fdrther admitted, it was doubtless her misfortune that she was not able to re- concile the two, but such being the case, she was compelled to choose methods and means adapted to her limited mentality— depraved, perhaps—but really, what could bé expected of a poor mortal so af- fllcted? “Why, Jack, where is Edith?” inquired Mrs. Winston, as the little party was about setting out for church. “She, has been trying for am hour or more tp arrange her hair like Cathalee’s. 1 offered to assist her, but she—" “Declined vour valuable 'services,” Maudc supplied. “'Good guess! She pushed me out, lock- ed the door, and declared it was bad enough to be a girl without having a nuisance of @ brother. Poor s She is certainly in hard luck.” “As T am the recipient of such a pretty cpmpliment, it behooves me to sge that T am correctly interpreted,” laughed Cathalee, running lightly up the stairs. “‘Mine enemy!” laughed Jack, looking, atter her in undisguised admiration. is not on speaking terms with m sald, addressing Waldron. “Says I have irredeemably distinguished myself this time. You behaved very badly last even- ing. sir, but it was all my fault, it seems, ‘What do you think of that for logic?" A woman’s logic is not limited by mars understanding,” that gentleman briefly observed. % he says that between us both we don’t leave a poor woman a shred of reputation. T felt positively undone when she had finished with me.” Jack's remarks were eut short by the return of the subject thereof accompanied by Edith, the unruly locks under coutrol, and a very pretty and blushing apology made for keeping t..e party waiting. “L fancy this is quite an unexpected pleasure for Mr. Waldron,” said Cathalee, as a start was finally made. “but it is a penance we exact impartially from all our friends, and T am sufficiently depraved to feel a brutal satisfaction when I have been the means of dragging a poor man off to church against his will. Oh, yes! It is quite true!” she insisted. pausing to note the effect of this dire confession. “You. men!” shaking her pretty head, ‘‘are beyond redemption at mortal hands, 1 fear—you can only be tormented occa- sionally when you are caught unawares.” At the conclusion of the services she informed him that he had behaved very well, but was beyond all doubt a seif- «confessed martyr. He was so very grave that she was prompted to inscribe an epitaph to his lately departed thoughts, the gravity of which impeachment he made no attempt, to deny. The little family bereft of its father and stronger gugrdian, earnestly and rev- erently offering’ its simple devotion to the great Ruler, and asking for strength and guidance; the sweet little face at his side blushing ‘with maldenly modesty ‘when bright met his; the daimtily gloved little hands flying over the leaves, and finding hymns and passages almost before the preacher’s, volce had died away; the little voice blending its plain- tive sweetness with the many. and rev- erently repeating the humble petition as ‘the little head was bowed in prayer, all tended to make him serious. And per- chance his thoughts strayed away to that far country—to his own life among scenes and people so vastly different, yet children of the one great family: to life in the great city—its multitude of com- plexities; to life—the great problem. Per- haps, too, his thoughts took him in their winged flight bagk to the days even more remote when he, the only child of loving parents. bowed his head, and breathed the same enduring words of hope and sup- plication—those days of childhood’s hap- Py hours when he was privileged the sweet companionship and solace of a mother’s love, and a father‘s wisdom and guidance. But what had been his™ life since those days long past? How little had parental prayers and plans availed against a higher power. What destiny was this same immutable law preparing for the sweet young soul at his side? ‘Would her life be embittered by the sin and wretchedness of the great world? ‘Would she soon be drawn into the tur- moil from which her young life had been shielded, and of wuw.ca she was blissfully unconscious? Or would she blossom into the fruition of her woman- hood, protécted and guarded by the strength of him into whose keeping she gave her life? God grant it might be! God grant that the mother's prayers for her children be not without avail! The first impression of the young miss concerning the stranger were seemingly Jjustified by further acquaintance, and they were soon on terms of .good com- radeship. He was early made acquaint- ed with her pets—a particular mark of esteem und confidence. Her dog—the greatest ¢f his kind in the estimation of his mistress—wagged approval of the big stranger of kindly voice who talked to him: familiarly. and appreciated his fine poin‘s. Oid Dick blinked approval of his blography as sec forth by his little mis- trk!k!—no equine could quite compare with Dick. and corners indoors and out were duly explored, and the man was unconsciously made possession of many an innocent thought and girlish confidence—indeed. it seemed never to occur to the little miss that she might not repose the most im- plicit confidence in her new friend. If he had thought to receive all this attention without giving value received, he was quickly undecelved. All uncon- sciously was he led into one of the cozy corners of his little hostess, a comfort- able place made for him, and a running fire questions suddenly flung at him whicll only the curfosity of youthful en- thusiasm could suggest. Nor was the little miss the only. one impelled to interest herself in his be- half. A certain other friend seemed to find a keen delight in covert flings and in- nuendos whenever opportunity’ presented. Perhaps In retaliation for the questionable treatment received at hig hands the night before; he should be made ‘o pay dearly for his temerity, and his oftice of friend to her majesty, the fair Czthalee, might not prove to he tue sinecure I'e seemed to antlcipate. FHowever, there was no out- ward evidence that a vulnerable spot had been reached. On tihe contrary. he re- ceived the winged shafts with the most exasperating indiffarence and good na- ture. Perhaps re.conridered turn about fair play, and was entirely willing that the other side shol'd have a fling. Per- haps, again, 'ne merely bided his time when he might catch his charming tor- mentor off her guard, and with one fell swoop put to =out the arch enemy per- sistently preying upoa his good nature. Her garden plots, favorite nooks - Many things come to PMim who waits— and to her as well. “Still in the Jand of dreams?" she queried, pausiug on the landing, and con- templating the man of thoughtful mien, who chanced at that mement to be alone in the living-room. “Not a penny for your thoughts. but your thoughts gratis. Surely none but a lover could gaze so far away Into nothingness and find so much to interest him.” “Man is ever at a disadvantage with your sex. Even his innermost thoughts are not sacred from intrusiom, but must be laid bare at the passing fane# of the first fair creature who chances to interest herself in his behalf,” he replied, with complacent resignation. “Now that I have discavered your se- cret you must take me into your confl- dence. Now don’t tell me that I am en- tirely wrong—I simply refuse to have my divinations ruthlessly upset. Besides, you have already committed yourself—tacitly admitted that you are a slave to the divine passion,” she insisted, with. laugh- ing ‘good nature. “‘Strange to say, I don’t know,” he said, somewhat doubtfully. ‘ cometimes I think I may bave experienced ¢he great pas- sion; again I am not so sure.” “How very interesting! ive me your symptoms, sir, and I will very quickly set your mind at rest as to whether you are suffering from an acute attack, or fjom a counterfeit presentment.” “You are most kind to interest your- self in my poor love affairs: yet per- haps you may be able to assist me very appreciably—a woman’s insight is so much deeper than a man's.” “That you are willing to conflde in me is a compliment in itself, and in return for your confidence, I shall be very in- terested, and render my very best judg- ment. I shall remain right here where [ calmly sat last evening and permitted myself to be assailed and reviled by a comparative - stranger. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself today, sir? T have since wonderedwhow [ eame to put up with your insolence. But that is another story. We are friends. now, and you have a very interesting story to teil me, I am sure.” “I believe the story is not without a certain element of interest,” he modestly admitted, “You must tell me everything—reserv- ing nothing. The whole truth to your doc- tor, lawyer and—love’s confessor,” she stipulated. “Please begin at once—I am all impatience.” “It is not a long story—I shall trespass but little upon your good nature. It all happened in Chicago—in a very brief in- terval, T may say. One late afternoon, some six months ago. I chanced\to be passing along Randolph street, between State and Wabash—I mention these little detalls, not because they have a direct bearing upon the vital point in question, but merely to localize the incident. My mind, as I well remember, was busily engaged with matters of serious import, and my eyes, as not infrequently hap- pens when my mind is thus employed, were directed downward. Suddenly. with- out volition of my own, T could almost swear, I raised my eyes and looked di- rectly into those of a lady who chanced to be passing at that instant.” “How very interesting!”’ exclaimed the fair confessor. ‘Please go on quickly—I can see possibilities.” “She was a beautiful creature!” he con- tinued, with profound emphasis. “T shall not attempt to describe her—mere words are inadequate to portray such loveliness as met my eyes.” “How beautiful she must ha been!™ she unconsclously exclaimed. “Was she tall ‘and fair, or—I want to know more about her!” she protested. “I think that the instant our eyes met.” he continued. ignoring her protest, I stopped short and, I dare say, gave other outward evidence o. the tumuit raging within me. That this was not our first meeating—that I had known her at some remote period of my existence was the strange freak my fancy played me. The sensation of ecstatic bliss that accom- panjed this unaccountable fancy is be- yond my power to describe. Was it a soul recognition? Was it merely a chance happening? Or was it only fancy on my part? What was it—tnat was the vexed question. No especial hypothesis seemed struggling for recognition. My subjective consciousness evidently deemed it unnec- sary or inexpedient to enlighten my grosser seif.” “What happened then?” she demanded, with eager interest. *“Please do not stop at such a very interesting situation.” “When I finally recovered my presence of mind, she had passed. I turned, but she had disappeared in the crowd. The glance, short as it was, had enabled me to take a mental photograph of that fair face, and whichever way [ turned, the same beautiful vision confronted me.” “You turned and followed?" she de- manded, with breathles Interest. “You followed her—" . “No, not at all,” he coolly replied, com- fortably disposing of himself I the easy chair. “Ah, T understand! You met her after- ward—became acquainted, and—well, mat- ters are not progressing to your satisfac- tion. Am I right?" “Cold—very cold. ““There now, sir, I do seriously object!"” she vigorously protested. “That Is past. I have forgiven you, and the least you can do {3 to refrain from poking fun at me—which is particularly unkind at the present moment.” - ““Your pardon. I have no more wish to offend than I am ungrateful for your very kind offices in my behalf,” he replied, with deep humility. s “I fear I cannot hope to suggest the outcome of the incident; besides, I am not to guess—you are to tell me. and I am to render judgment, you know." “My understanding, exactly. ~The evi- dence is quite complete. The case now rests with the court. The point at issue is: Did the Individual in question, to the best of the knowledge and bellef of said court, in that one brief instant experience the great and divine passion—the highest and noblest—the great desideratum of hu- man life—said to be?” ““Well, of all ridiculous nonsense, I have never heard the equal!” exclaimed the surprised and indignant court, starting to its feet, “‘except my own in sitting calm- ly by and helping to ridicule myself.. As for your love affair, you simply mistook the seat of your atlment—you should have tried a tonic. That is the opinion of the court to which vou are entirely ‘welcome,” and the outraged court swept majestically up the stairs, leaving the cause of its abrupt adjournment to con- tinue his meditations undisturbed. Her indignation, however, was not of long duration, and when she appeared at tea a little later, she was once more in full possession of her good nature. More- g:r. she tnnxlm ly hl.;!hurmad the family of manner hd a certain lady of worldly e: