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AMOS JUDD
AMOS JUDD
BY
J. A. MITCHELL
IIXU8TRATKI) BY A. I. MJtLLM
TORONTO
COPP, CLARK COMPANY, Ltd.
1901
Oopvrig)u, ms, mi, »y CTkorfe* acribM,>, Bon,
ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM DKAWIKOS IX COLOR BV A. I. KELLER
^'^""^ TiUe-Page
"How much do they represent,
the whole lot" !?.„.
Facing page 18
"/ beg your pardon, /— / „>tu startled" 43
It seemed a lougjve minutes j^^
Gently rocking with both feet on the ground m
"I thank you, Bull, for chasing me into Molly
Cabot's heart"
"He is the image of you"
" The end has come, my Moll'
182
206
250
AMOS JUDD
jk T the station of Bingham Cross Roads
/% four passengers got off the train.
-JL ,^^ One, a woman with bundles, who
was evidently familiar with her surroundings,
walked rapidly away through the hot Septem-
ber sunshine toward the little village in the
distance.
The other three stood on the platform and
looked about, as if taking their bearings. They
were foreigners of an unfamiliar species. Their
fellow-passengers in the car had discussed
them with an interest not entirely free fitim
suspicion, and their finally getting out at such
an unimportant station as Bingham Cross
Roads caused a surprise which, although rea-
sonably under control, was still too strong for
concealment. From the windows of the car at
[1]
J
AMOS JUDD
least a do^n pairs of eyes were watching
them. The two men and the little boy who
composed this group were of dark complexion,
with clean-cut, regular features. The oldest, a
man of sixty years or more, had a militaiy
bearing, and was. If one could judge from ap-
pearances, a person of authority in his own
country, wherever that might be. Although
the younger man seemed to resemble him, it
was in such a general way that he might be
either his son or no relation whatever.
But the little boy had excited a yet greater
interest than his companions. Although but six
or seven years old, he comported himself with
as much dignity and reserve as the genUeman
with the sUver hair. This gave the impression,
and without apparent intention on his part,
that he also was an important personage. His
dark eyes were strikingly beautifol and, like
those of his seniors, were distinctiy foreign in
design.
[2]
AMOS JUDD
When the train moved away the three trav-
ellers approached the man with one suspender,
who filled the position of station agent, bag-
gage-master, switchman, telegraph operator
and freight clerk, and inquired if there was
a conveyance to the village of Daleford. He
pointed to a wagon at the farther end of the
platform; that was the Daleford stage. In an-
swer to further questions they learned that the
next train back again, toward New York, left
at six thirty; that Daleford was seven miles
away; that they could spend an hour in that
village and catch the train without hurrying.
The only baggage on the pktform consisted
of two peculiar-looking trunks, or rather boxes,
which the multifarious official knew to br
theirs, as no similar articles had ever been
manufactured in America. They were covered
with designs laid on in metal, all ekborately
engraved, and it was not suspected along the
route that these profuse and tarnished or-
in
I
AMOS JUDD
7 -^PPeO behind .he «^, t,„ ,^.
"^ '"'••'«'«•«<"'»«, a, outh^thU^e
"" and . I.„g neck, ««,„ g..^ hi. p...enge„
7' ««"«>» opportunities to explain them.
«>ve,, which the, neglected. Adde fion. .
few dmple quesuon, .bout DJefori «d Mr
J«i.hJudd, to who« house they we« going,'
theconve«.tionw„in.u„g„.g,„,„^^^^^
■^ »» '"•wledge. The 6r^ two n^e, of their
which they climbed to higher g™„nd. The boy
•eemed interested in the size of the elm,, the
'■>«" of the tob^co fields, the Wild grapes.
«nd the ™rious things that «,y boy might
nohce who h«l never seen their like befo«
■n,e day w«, w«™, and the r«.d dusty, and
-hen they ente«dDaIeforf the boy, with the
oM gentleman's a„„ .bouj ^.^^ j_^ ^^_^
"leep for seve»I miles. Coming into the vU-
[*]
AMOS JUDD
lage .t one end, they dmve down the main
street, beneath double rows of elms that met
.bore their heads in loft^. arches, the wide
common on their right The stnuigers ex-
pressed their admiration at the c.e and beauty
of these trees. Moreover the cool shade was
restful and refreshing. No signs of human life
were visible either in the street or about the
white houses that faced the common, and this
with the unbroken silence gave an impression
that the inhabil^ts, if thej existed, were
either absent or asleep.
The driver stopped for a moment at the
postK,ffice which occupied a comer in the only
store, and gave the mail-bag to the post-mis-
tress, a pale young woman with eye-glasses
and a wealth of artificial hair; then, after rum-
bling through the village for half _ .„
found themselves again in the countiy,
The last house on the right, with
sive portico of Doric
mile, they
its
[*]
mas-
columns, seemingly of
AMOS JUDD
whit. „.*„, h^ a,, .pp^^ ^^ ^ ^_^
™" ««"P'e- But the« .ppe.^^ „„ ^
«puve,thebui]dtogbei„g.p^,.^^^_^^
•nd the nateridl of wtive pine.
A. they .ppwiched thi, mend*^™.. exte-
Hor the little boy ..id «„,ethi„g u, the ^or-
y Unguag. to hi, con,p.,rio..., whe-eupon
*ey told ^he drive, t. .top .t th, door, „
Mr. Judd was inside.
''n»t .i„-t Mr. Judd-, house, ■ he .„,we«d.
H» i. ncriy . ^, ^^, ^^ ^^^ ^^
hiU, .ml he g.ve the ho«e. . gentle blow to
emph«i« the in&mwtioa But the boy „
P"ted hi, .utement, wh.tever it w«, .„d
the younger nu» «ud. with «»e deci,ion:
"Mr. Judd i, tadde. Stop here."
As the driver drew up before the hou,e he
renurked, with . «„,astie .mile:
"If Mr. Judd live, here, he". n,„ved in
ance momin'."
But the ren,.rk n«„le no ,i,ible i„pre,d„n.
[6]
AMOS JUDD
They all got out, and while the two men ap-
proached the front door by an old-fashioned
brick walk, the boy strolled leisurely through
the glassy yard beside the house. The driver
was speculating within himself as to what
kind of a pig-headed noUon made them per-
sist in stopping at Deacon Barlow's, when, to
his surprise, Mr. Judd emerged from a door-
way at the side and advanced with long strides
toward the diminutive figure in his path.
Mr. Judd was a man about sixty yeare of
age, tall, thin and high-shouldered. His long,
bony face bore no suggestions of beauty, but
there was honesty in every line. The black
clothes which hung loosely upon his figure
made him seem even taUer and thinner than
he really was. The boy looked him pleasantly
in the face and, when he had approached suffi-
ciently near, said, in a clear, childish voice,
slowly and with laborious precision:
"Josiah Judd, the General SubahdAr Divo-
[7]
AMOS JUDD
Mr. Judd .^p^ ^^^ ^^
opened, but „, «„^ ^, ^^ ^
«<f rt^ ». « much .,d„ ^ ^,„.
™.<«^ofdta«pect,„d.We.i..fc,.^,„.
-•-to the p^„e. of titled ,t«,g.„„„^
fe American to suapect for • f
tl... I. , *'* "econd.,
"»i.ew««.ev,etta„,^,„^„^
i«J, «,d looked »K« e.„My. Th^
, »^«er ob«n,«, a^ bewilde^ent, .nd
•*"''*'''"'' ™T*ed that .uch.^ple
.t.te„e„t .ho„,d be «ceived in «. pee„ J.
~. But Mr. Judd reeove^d hi, oo»po-
.ure lowe^ the bu.hy eyeb^w,, ^i d„w.
f '" '^•' "^"^ "" -"th .. if to get it
into shape again, asked:
[8]
AMOS J I 1) D
"Who did you My wanted to kc me,
sonny?"
A small hand was ceremoniously waved
toward the two strangers who were now
•pproaching along the Doric portico. Com-
ing up to Mr. Judd they saluted him with a
-lately deference that was se.Mom witnessed
in Dalefonl, and the Geneml handed him
• letter, asking if he were not Mr. Josiah
Judd.
"Yes, sir, that's my name," and as he took
the letter, returned their salutations politely,
but in a lesser degree. He was not yet sure'
that the scene was a real one. The letter,
however, was not only real, but he recognized
at once the handwriting of his brother Mor-
ton, who had been in India the last dozen
years. Morton Judd was a successful merchant
and had enjoyed for some years considerable
financial and political importance in a certain
portion of that country.
[9]
AMOS JVDD
pVEAR Jcam: Thl. letter will be handed
^^ you by two trustworthy gentlemen
who«. name, it i. ^er not to write. They
will expUin dl you wiah to know regarding
the boy they leave in your charge. Please Uke
care of thl. boy at least for a time and treat
him a. your own son. I am writing this at
-hort notice ,and in great haste. You have
probably read of the revolution here that ha.
up^et everything. This boy's life, together with
the lives of many others, depend, upon the
secrecy with which we keep the knowledge of
his whereabouts from those now in power.
Will write you more fully of .11 thi. in a
few days. Give my love to Sarah, and I hope
you are all well. Hannah and I are in excel-
lent health. Your affectionate brother,
Morton Judd.
P. S. You mife:it give out that the boy is
an adopted child of mine and call him Amos
Judd, after father.
r »0]
AMOS JUDD
These words threw a needed light on the
■itiution. He shook hands with the two visi-
tors and greeted them cordially, then, ap-
proaching the boy who was absorbed in the
movements of some turkeys that were stroll-
ing about the yard, he bent over and held out
his hand, saying, with a pleasant smile:
"And you, sir, are very welcome. I think we
can take good care of you."
But the child looked inquiringly from the
hand up to owner's fa';e.
"Mr. Judc .les to take your hand," said
the General, then udding, by way of explana-
tion, "He never shook hands before. But these
customs he will soon acquire." The small hand
was laid in the large one and moved up and
down after the manner of the country.
"Don't they shake hands in India?" asked
Mr. Judd, as if it were something of a joke.
"How do you let another man know you're
glad to see him?"
AMOS JUDD
«Oh, yes, we shake hands sometimes. The
English taught us that. But it is not usual with
persons of his rank. It wUl be easily learned,
however."
After a word or two more they took their
seats in the wagon, the boy at his own request
getting in front with the driver. They soon
cam,e in sight of the Judd residence, a large,
white, square. New England farmhouse of the'
best type, standing on rising ground several
hundred feet from the road, at the end of a
long avenue of maples. Clustered about it were
some magnificent elms. As they entered the
avenue the driver, whose curiosity could be
restrained no longer, turned and said to the
boy;
"Did you ever see Mr. Judd before?"
"No."
"Then how did you know 'twas him?"
"By his face."
He looked down witit a sharp glance, but the
[12]
AMOS JUDD
boy's expression was serious, even melancholy.
"Ever been in this town before?"
"No."
"Did Mr. Judd know you was comin'?"
"No."
"Then what in thunder made you s'pose he
was in Deacon Barlow's?"
"In thunder?"
"What made you think he was in that
house?"
The boy looked off over the landscape and
hesitated before answering.
"I knew he was to be there."
"Oh, then he expected you?"
"No."
Joe laughed. "That 's sort of mixed, ain't it?
Mr. Judd was there to meet you when he
didn't know you were comin'. Kinder met you
by appointment when there wasn't any." This
was said in a sarcastic manner, and he added:
"You was pretty sot on stoppin* and I 'd like
[ 13 J
! '■
if
AMOS JUDD
to know how you come to be so pop sure he
was inside."
The dark eye. looked up .t him i„ gentle
«t.ni.hme„t Thi, gave w., to . g,e.™ ^
.nge,«. they. ...ed. mocking expression,
•nd the lip, parted « if t, .p,^ gut there
-emed to be . change of „,„„, for he ..id
"""""*''"<""■'« «-yto"««J the dist^t hill,
w contemptuous silence. The driver, «, « free
.nd independent America, w« irritated by
this attempted supeHonty in a foreigner, and
e»P«Wly „,uch a young oue, but there wa,
no time to retaliate.
Mrs. Judd, a large. «ndy-h.ired, s,re„g.
featured woman, gave the guests a cordial wel-
eomc. Hie outI«.dish trunk, found their way
"P ^rs. instruction, were given the driver to
"" '" •" "»""' <"<* M"- Judd, With the ser.
vant, hastened preparations for a dinner, as
the travellers, she leamwl h.A ^
, "c learned, had eaten nothing
since early mornuig.
[ 14]
AMOS JUDD
When these were going on Mr. Judd and
the three guests went into the parlor, which,
like many others in New England, was a tri-
umph of severity. Although fanatically clean,
it possessed the usual stuffy smell that is in-
evitable where fresh air and sunlight are ha-
bitually excluded. There were four windows,
none of which were open. All the blinds were
closed. In this dim light, some hair ornaments,
wax flowers, a marriage certificate and a few
family photographs of assiduous and unrelent-
ing aspect seemed waitmg, in hostile patience,
until the next funeral or other congenial cere-
mony should disturb their sepulchral peace.
While the men seated themselves about the
table, the boy climbed upon a long horse-hair
sofa, whence he regarded them with a bored
but dignified patience. The General, before
seating himself, had taken from his waist an
old-fashioned money-belt, which he laid upon
the teble. From this he extracted a surprising
[15]
AMOS JVDD
the™ in mtle ^,Un. Mr. J„dd', curtci.y „„
further i„cre«ed when he took f„„ ^^
portion, of the belt a „„„b,, „f E„^„,^ ^^_
-te,, whieh he smoothed out ™d .!«, ,.id
before his host
"There «r^ twelve th„u«„,d pounds in thes.
note,," he .«id,.<„d. bout two .housed in
sovereign,, with . few hund^d in A„erie.„
money."
"Fourteen thouswd pound,," ,aid Mr. Judd
»aking . rough cleuLtion, "that 's about sev-
enty thousand dollara."
The Generrf nodded toward the boy "It
Wongs to hin. Your brother, Mr. Morton
■Judd, perhaps told you we left in great haste
and this is aH of the avaiUb.e p^perty we
had fame to eonvert into „„ney. The rest will
be «nt you later. That is, whatever we ean
secure of it."
Now Mr. Judd had never been fo..d of re-
r 16 ]
AMOS JUDD
sponsibility. It was in fact his cliief reason
for remaining on the farm while his younger
brother went out into the world for larger
game. Moreover, seventy thousand dollars, to
one brought up as he had been, seemed an
absurdly large amount of money to feed and
clothe a single boy.
"But what am 1 to do with it? Save it up
and give him the interest?"
"Yes, or whatever you and Mr. Morton
Judd may decide upon."
While Mr. Judd was drawing his hand across
his forehead to smooth out the wrinkles he
felt were coming, the General brought forth
from an inner pocket a small silk bag. Unty-
ing the cord he carefully emptied upon the
table a handful of precious stones. Mr. Judd
was no expert in such things, but they were
certainly very pretty to look at and, moreover,
they seemed very large.
"These," continued the General, «are of
[17]
AMOS JUDD
*'■"'''"'»"*"•«.«. of „„„,^rf„..
He ^ke With «,th«ri„m, „d held up .«
•'two of them to the light Mr. Judd «dly
«k«-..dg«, th.t the, we„ ,e^ ^^
»<J threw . hostile gUnce .t the gle«ni„g,
:r""""^' "''■'^^ — befo„ hi™
,„"r ""■;'■ '" "^^ "P"-'. «.e whole
TheGe„e»n«,kedi«,„iH„g,y.t^i,^.
P-O". ne PHnee .hook h„ fc^. „,, ^^
"T^"'^ to «y, but we can give . „„gh
estimate." *
■^ taking them one by .„e, „bie,. ji..
--*' ;-•»"»». Pearis, »d „pphi,e.. the,
"^ • "". putting the value of each in the
cun«.^ of their own county, „,«^^
the total amount to Engliah pound*
«A.neara,iti,p«^M.^ „
^ePnnee,. -their value i, about one hund^
"d 8«t, thousand pound*"
[18]
I
{ i
AMOS JUDD
"One hundred and sixty thousand pounds!"
exclaimed Mr. Judd. "Eight hundred thou-
sand dollars!" and with a frown he pushed hit
chair from the table. The General misunder-
stood the movement, and said: "But, sir, there
are few finer jewels in India, or even in the
world!"
"Oh, that's all right," said Mr. Judd. "I'm
not doubting their worth. It's only kind of
sudden," and he drew his hands across his
eyes, as if to shut out the dazzling mass that
flashed balefiilly up at him from the table.
For a New England farmer, Josiah Judd was
a prosperous man. In fact he was the richest
man in Daleford. But if all his earthly posses-
sions were converted into cash they would
never realize a tenth part of the unwelcome
treasure that now lay before him. He was,
therefore, somewhat startled at being deluged,
as it were, out of a clear sky, with the respon-
sibility of nearly a million dollars. The guests
[19]
I '
AMOS JUDD
•l-o mentioned wme pearl, of extmorfinanr
value in one of the trunks.
"WeIi;'he«,d,withanalrof.^ri^tion,
"I -pose there', no dodgin' it, and I'll have
to do the be.t I can till I hear fiom Morton.
After the boy goe. back to India of cou«e I
■ha'n't have the care of it"
The General glanced toward the .ofa to be
sure he waa'not overheard, then answered, i„
a low voice: "It will be better for him and
will save the shedding of blood if he never
returns."
But the boy heard nothing in that «x,m.
He was slumbering peacefully, with his head
against the high back of the sofa, and his
spirit, if one could judge fiom the smile
upon his lips, was once more in his own land
among his own people. Perhaps playing with
another little boy in an Oriental garden a
garden of fountain and gorgeous flower8,'of
queer-shaped plants with heavy foliage a
[20]
AMOS JUDD
quiet, dreamy garden, where the white walls
of the palace beside it were supported by in-
numerable columns, with elephants' heads for
capitals: where, below a marble terrace, the
broad Ganges shimmered beneath a golden
sun.
Maybe the drowsy air of this ancestral gar-
den with its perfume of familiar flowers made
his sleep more heavy, or was it the thrum of
gentle fingers upon a mandolin in a distant
comer of the garden, mingUng with a woman's
voice?
Whatever the cause, it produced a shock,
this being summoned back to America, to
exile, and to the hdr-cloth sofa by the voice
of Mrs. Judd announciiig dinner; for the step
was long and the change was sudden from the
princely pleasure garden to the Puritan parlor,
and every nerve and fibre of his Oriental heart
revolted at the outrage. There was a war-like
gleam in the melancholy eyes as he joined
[21 ]
AM08 JUDD
dining-™... A. the, «t ,» uWe, the three
«»«U 1th M.» J„dd, who pou^d the te.
I» ftotmed 1th hortUe qr.. „p,„ ,he rteek,
the boUed p«.,«., u,, ^ wedge..h.p«,
piece of j«,lIow ehee«, the pickle., «kJ the
•pple-ple. He w„ empty „d ve,y hungiy, but
he did not e.t He .g«,«l .fc, e«»ple of
the GenenU ^d the Prinee, who dnmk the
•*«»«. green te., «d .wUowed the Miemtu.
hi^-it. « if their h.«f ded«. .t Urt we«
gmtiaed. He «owled upon M.,. A ,ld when
■he tried to leem wh.t he dUiked the leut
But her hu.b«.d, «„,ing to «d ft„ fa . ^k.
ing-«h.lr new the window, h«i no pereeption
of the g.thering cloud, «ul penirted to que
tioning hi. vidtor. to regarf ., i„a.. the cus-
tom, of the people, „d finely „f their .„„
home life. M». J„dd h«J noticed the bi«k
eyebrow. <md re.tle« lip. were becomtog mo«
threatentog « the m«,y quertion. were «.
[23]
AMOS JUDD
•wend; that the two-pronged fork of horn and
iteel was used solely as an offensive weapon to
stab his potatoes and his pie.
At last the tempest came. The glass of
water he had raised with a trembling hand to
his Upa was hurled upon the platter of steak,
and smashed into a dozen pieces. With a swift
movement of his arms, as if to clear the deck,
he pushed the pickles among the potatoes and
swept his pie upon the floor. Then, after a
futile effort to push his chair from the table,
he swung his leg { about and let himself down
from the side. With a face flushed with pas-
sion, he spoke rapidly in a language of which
no word was familiar to his host or hostess,
and ended by pointing dramatically at Mr.
Judd, the little brown finger quivering with
uncontrollable fiiry. It appeared to the aston-
ished occupant of the rocking-chair that the
curse of Allah was being hurled v^ym the
house of Judd. Standing for a moment in si-
[23]
AMOS JUDD
lence and glowering upon them all in turn
the boy swung about with a defiant gesture'
stalked through the open door and out of the'
house.
Josiah Judd, whose heart ™ already sink-
■n« under the responsibility of the e«,„n
jewels of a kingdom, experienced a sickening
collapse in the presence of the OrienUl thun-
derb.It that had just expWed on his peaceful
New England hearthstone. His jaw fell, he
ceased ««ki„g, and turned his eyes in painful
inquuy upon his guests.
There was «, awkwarf silence. The Geneial
^d the Pnnee had risen to their feet as if i„
«Hogy to the hostess, but she had accepted
the outburst with unrufBed calmness. Her
kind, restful, homely face showed no .nnoy-
ance. Rising quietly fi„m the table she fol-
lowed the stormy guest and found him around
in front of the house, sitting upon the gmnfte
door-step, his chin in his hands, frowntog
[24]
L
1
AMOS JUDD
"tiffly upon the quaint old flower-garden be-
fore hinj. He got up as she approached and
stood a tw feet away, regarding her with a
hostile scowl. Seating herself upon the step
she said, with a pleasant smile:
"Of course you are tired, sonny, we all
understand that, and you are unhappy to-day,
but it won't be for long."
These assuring words failed of their purpose,
and he eyed her sidewise, and with suspicion.
He was too old a bird to be fooled so easily.
A few sprigs were torn from the box border
within his reach as if the conversation bored
him.
"I had a boy once," continued Mrs. Judd.
"I understand boys, and know just how you
feel. We shall be good friends, I'm sure."
After a pause devoted to serious reflection,
he inquired:
"Did your boy like you?"
'Oh, yes."
[25]
**i
AMOS JUDD
He came nearer and stood in front of her
Then, slowly and with the precision with
which he always delivered himself when
speakmg English, he said:
«Mv mother was different from you, and
her clothes were more beautiful, but if one
boy liked you another might. I might. Would
you like to see my mother's portrait.^'
Mrs. Judd said she would like very much
to see it, and he began fumbling about and
seemed to be tickling himself near the buckle
of his belt. But, as it proved, he was ascer-
taining the whereabouts of a locket, which
he finally fished up by means of a gold chain
about his neck. The chain was of such a
length that the locket, instead of reposing
near the heart of the wearer, hung a little
below the centre of the stomach. When it
finally emerged above his collar, he placed
the warm miniature in her hand, saying:
"That is my mother."
[26 J
AMOS JUDD
It was a dark face, surmounted by a jew-
elled head-dress of a style that Mrs. Judd
had never seen, even in pictures. After look-
ing more carefully at the miniature and then
up into the eyes that -vere watching hers, she
found the same square forehead and sensitive
mouth, and the same dark melancholy, heavily
fringed eyes, by far the most beautiful she
had ever seen. The picture in her hand was
a truthful portrait of himself. As she looked
from the portrait into the face before her she
felt it was perhaps fortunate this mother was
ignorant of the changes that already had
turned the current of his life. With a brown
hand on each of her knees ne was looking
into her eyes with the anxious gaze of a hun-
gry soul, seeking for sympathy, and too proud
to ask it. But Mrs. Judd understood. She laid
a hand upon his shoulder with an expression
upon her honest face that rendered words un-
necessary. He blinked and swallowed in a
[27 ]
11
/;
AMOS JUDD
that ch V '^'°""' ■-"««»-»
that oha^teri^d h« a„g„ .^ the dinner-
table. Mrs. Judd rested h., i. .
short M .. .. '^"^ "P"" the
snort black hair and tri^d f„
„. , '""■ '" summon words
•^^soi^erora^erthat seemed to threat!
«• ".tegrity of his earthi, body. She eonid
-<. streke his head and ten him not to 1
should soon return home.
I« *e midst of these efforts the voice of
Mr. Judd came around the co^er calling out
-t the wagon... here. 7T.el„,J„„pl, J
H«^- as if he h«, received. Shoe. Lw
* "* ^'"'* <" "« J-'-'et „ress his tear,
f 28]
AMOS JUDD
stained face, he summoned an expression of
severity and indifference that under other
circumstences would have forced a smile from
his newly acquired friend. The soldier was
himself again; the warrior was on parade. As
they walked together around the house to the
dining-room, he beside her with a resolute
step and chin in the air, she wondered what
manner of training could have taught him at
the age of seven to suppress all boyish emo-
tions, and put on at wiU the dignity of a Ro-
man Senator.
The General and the Prince were awaiting
them. With many compliments they thanked
the host and hostess for their hospitality, and
regretted the necessity that took them away
in such unfortunate haste; it was a flying trip
and their absence must not be lengthened by
an hour, as these were troublous times in
their part of India. As they moved toward
the wagon Mrs. Judd held her husband back
[29]
AMOS JUDD
believing there might be a parting at which
strangers would not be welcome. But the part-
ing, like all else, was dignified and ceremo-
nious. She could not see the boy's face, for he
stood with his back toward her, but as far as
she could judge he also was calm and self-pos-
sessed. She noticed, however, that the Gen-
eral had to swallow, with a sudden gulp, a
large portion of what appeared to be a care-
fully constructed sentence.
They drove in silence down the long avenue
beneath the maples, and the driver, perhaps
to put them at their ease, said something
about getting along faster in this light wagon
than with the stege, but both his passengers
seemed in a silent mood and made no answer.
As they turned into the main road the Gen-
eral, who was on the side nearest the house,
looked back. At the farther end of the avenue
stood the boy in the same position, still watch-
ing them. The old oldier brought his hand to
[30]
AMOS JUDD
his hat and down again in a miliUiy salute
that was evidently familiar to the little person
at the farther end of the driveway, for it was
promptly acknowledged, and although a fare-
well to the last ties between himself and his
country, was returned with head erect, as from
one veteran to another.
[31 ]
i'
II
•■■ The comer nwnsion of the V«, Kooven
" """• "*"" "«'«• I-"8 ~wa of cTUge.
.urmounted by .leepy coachmen extend long
M.di«.n Avenue „d into the neighboring
.t«et The tcmpomry .wnjng f^ .^^ ^^^
door to,the curbstone «„e, only to shield
the coming and departing guest from the g.„
of heaven, for the moon «,dsu« .re shining
brightly, a, if they also w„„,d ^ke to enter
But when the front door opens, which i. frc-
quent, it emit, a blast of music, taunting and
defiant, reminding the outside univc«e of its
plebeian origin.
Inside there is a scene of festivity and splen-
d.r,of darling gayety, of youth and mirth and
decorous joy. The opulence of the Van K«,ver,
'" °f »"»««fy<ng «.Iidity, and when they give a
"»" they do it in. style to be remembered
[38]
AMOS JUDD
The !»«« ,t.e,f, ^^^ ,^ ,^^^^^ ^
!" *»-'«•" " «-.ind. you rf the A«bi«
Tie* The fiunily portrait,, the g,«io„. *«.
■>"yoftheho,t.ndh«te«,thebe.H„g.fthe
r""' "' "*"' "' '««"8«e "d he^dify
honors. "^
eve,7 comer, .„ fe,t«,„ed ^^ ^^ ^
wmdow,, even ...„g the wall, .„d up the
»t"«, their perfume mingling with the murie
And the music, dre«ny yet voluminous, nvay,'
".ther „d thither.«. of ^d^, ^^
neck, and shimmering jewels, floating ^^^^
fi-Uy .bout in the .rms of .nxious youths.
These youths, ^though unsperfcbly hsppy,
wear upon their ftees,., is n,^„p,„.„^^
•"".ions, «, expresdon of cor»ding e«e
A. a wait, came to an end, a t.,,, Ug^t.
"^ 8^' With Crimson ^s ,„ h„ ^^
[as]
H i
AMOS JU DD
dropped into a seat She fanned herself rapidly
as if to drive away a roost becoming color that
h«l taken possession of her cheeks. Her
breath came quickly, the string of pearis upon
her neck rising and falling as if sharing in the
general joy. With her long throat, her well-
poised head, and a certain dignity of uncon-
scious pride she might be described as old-
fashioned from her resemblance to a favorite
type in the portraits of a century ago. Perhaps
her prettiest feature was the low, wide fore-
head about which the hair seemed to advance
and recede in exceptionally gracefiil lines. Her
charm to those who know her but superficially
was in her voice and manner, in the frankness
of her eyes, and, above all perhaps, in that all-
conquering charm, a total absence of self-con-
sciousness. But whatever the reason, no giri
in the room received more attention.
Her partner, a sculptor with a bald head
and a reputation, took the chair beside her.
[ 34 ]
AMOS J U D I)
A« her eye. wandered carelessly about the
"om she inquired, in an indifferent tone-
"Who is that swarthjr youth talking with Julia
Bancroft?"
"I don't know. He looks like a foreigner."
Then he added, with more interest, "But isn't
he a beauty!"
"Yes, his features are good."
«He is an Oriental of some sort, and does n't
quite harmonize with a claw-hammer coat. He
should wear an emerald-gi^en nightcap with
a ruby in the centre, about the sixe of a hen's
m, a yellow dressing-gown and white satin
trousers, all copiously sprinkled with dUmonds "
She smiled. "Yes, and he might be interest-
ing if he were not quite so handsome; but here
he comes!"
The youth in question, as he came down the
room and passed them, seemed to be having a
jolly time with his companion and he failed to
notice the two people who were discussing
[35]
» !
AMOS JUDD
him. It WM a boyish face notwith«Unding the
regular features and square jaw, and at the
present moment it wore a smile that betnyed
the most intense amusement When he was
well out of hearing, the sculptor exclaimed:
"He is the most artistic thing I ever saw! The
lines of his eyes and nose are superb! And
what a chin! I should like to own him!"
"You <Jouldn't eat him."
"No, but I could put him on exhibition at
five dolhirs a ticket Every girl in New York
would be there; you among them."
Miss Cabot appeared to consider. "I am not
so sure. He probably is much less interesting
than he looks. Handsome males over three
yearn of age are the deadliest bores in life;
sculptors of course excepted."
"It does seem to be a kind of prosperity the
human malr is unable to support without im-
pairment" Then addressing a blas^ young man
lounging wearily by:
[36]
AMOS JUDD
"Homce, do you know who that is talking
with MiM Bancroft?"
Horace, a round-shouldered blond whose
high collar seemed to force his chin, not up-
ward, but outward horisonUlly, fingered the
ends of a frail mustache and asked:
"You mean that pigeon-toed fellow with
the dark face?"
^^ Miss Cabot could not help laughing.
"There's a summing up of your beauty," she
exclaimed, turning to the sculptor.
He smUed as he answered: "It is evident
you are an admirer. But do you know who
he is?"
"Yes, I know him."
"Well, what is it? A Hindu prince, a
Persian poet, or a simple corsair of the Adri-
atic?"
"He is a Connecticut farmer."
"Never!"
"And his name is Judd— Amos Judd."
[37]
AMOSJlJDD
"Oh, dearl" sighed Miss Cabot. "What a
CO- downl We hoped he was something
more unusual than that"
"W«U, he i. more unusual than that He is
•l»«.y.er„fthefen«,eh«>rt.,knewhta
to college. At d«,ce. and parties we were
«ene»l,y sure to find hta tucked away „„
"•e stal™ or out on a poreh with the pret-
,f ' *^' °^ ""^ ■»"• "" "« 'ooked so n.ueh
hke „ OH«,tal p^ee we used to caU hin.
the Bellehugger of Spoonmore." ■
"Disgusttog!"
"But that is a tHfflng and u„h„p.rt.„t de-
t«d of his cha«cter. Miss Cibot, and convev,
.cold ,„.pre..ion of M. Judd's expertences.
Don Giovanni w„ a pu,itanical prig in «,„.
I-™- n.en at «,Uege he h«l the bad taste
to murder a classnute."
Mi.. Cabot looked up in honw.
"But then he had hi, virtues. He could
-•nnk more with«.t Aowing it than any fel-
[S8]
AMOS JUDD
low in college, and he was the richest man in
his class."
"Oh, come now, Horace," said the sculptor,
"you are evidently a good friend of his, but
your desire to do him a good turn may be
carrying you beyond the limits of-how shaU
I say it?"
"You mean that I am lying."
"Well, that is the rough idea."
Horace smiled. «No, I am not lying. It is
aU true," and he passed wearily on.
It was not many minutes before Molly Cabot
was again moving over the floor, this time with
the son of the house. Stephen Van Koover
was one of those unfortunates whose mental
outfit qualified him for something better than
the career of clothes and conversation to which
he was doomed by the family wealth.
"This recalls old times. Isn't it three or
four years since we have danced together?"
he asked. "Or is it three or four hundred?"
[39]
AMOS JUDD
"Thank you! I am glad you realize what
you have missed."
"You do dance like an angel. Miss Molly,
and it's a sin to squander such talent on me.
I wish you would try it with Judd; my sistem
say his dancing is a revelaUon."
"Judd, the murderer?"
"Who told you that?"
"Horace Bennett"
"1 might have guessed it. Truth and Honice
were never chums. Judd bea« the same rela-
tion to Horace as sunshine to a damp cellar."
As the music ceased they strolled to a little
divan at the end of the room.
"He did kill a man, a classmate, but he had
the sympathies of his entire dass. It was partly
an accident, anyway."
"I am glad for his sake, as there seems to
be a prejudice against murder."
"This was a little of both. We were having
a supper, about twenty of us, just before class-
[40 J
\
AMOS JUDD
day. After the supper, when we were all a
trifle hilarious, Slade came up behind Judd
and poured some wine down his neck. Judd
faced about; then Slade made a mock apol-
ogy, and added an insulting speech. He was a
master in that sort of thing, and while doing
it he emptied his wineglass into Judd's face.
Now Judd is ove. weighted with a peculiar
kind of Oriental pride, and also with an un-
fortunate temper; not a bad temper, but a
sudden, unreliable, cyclonic aflair, that carries
the owner with it, generally faster than is
necessary, and sometimes a great deal farther.
Now Slade knew all this, and as he was an
all-around athlete and the heavier man, there
was no doubt in our minds that he meant
Judd should strike out, and then he would
have some fun with him.
"Well, Judd grew as black as a thunder-
cloud, but he kept his temper. His hand shook
as he wiped his face with his handkerchief
[41 ]
AMOS JUDD
T """•"^ '""■«' "" ^ upon hta. IKe.
■t w„ th.t .he .«.„ ^ ^. ^^
to «i.ande„ta„d J„dd-. dec«t bd,.vi<„, J
'"""•^P* "-«•««•» for ^ewhoculd
«d b^ged hU he«. .g.to,e the w.n ^ .
fo- "d fl^ .fc.. „b.^ ^^^ ^^^^
"■"^ "<*='««««-»..«. open ^.
»« .««d. J„dd, h.If Bfti^ ton <i^ ^
17 ""*'-" «^ th^^ thi. Window,
and over the balcony."
JG^o...W„.ede.^,.,^^
"N. but . blow .waited hta oat.de th.t
would We fbiAed „ ox. IT^ window w„
;'^;;'^'''-'*-«.eg„„„d,„dbe.
J-wit rtood. p«ite hitching po.t When
Sl«ie e.n,e down Uke. diver fton.. boat „d
[4*J
AMOS JUDD
«~^*« post fa there to^, ^u, ' '
injury." ^' * °° "«"» °'
"""""^ yo" '!«•'' of it ta „eh . tone -
.T J'"',' "°*^''''°"' "'""««' 'deep
^■.forthev,etin..A„.then.„aaw„„'
»*-^«..hone.t,He«iahe.„„^SU<,e
r "T^' «»' ' -"0 would be better if
-^™chn.en, . «,t „nt, .„d „fi«a to
8» to the flu.e«, .r to we., the „.», ,^
"Which w„ in dfagustingly b«J t«tel"
itfawl'";'"'*""^ """"^^"onest Ana then
2>-^^i^.»judgehin.b,.„^a.^
He » buut ,f fo„i^ ^^^ ^ ^
^ved^^ethh^.^,,^^
n» nature to foigive."
n.ir voiee, were drowned in the music that
"^ «»«» toe .«.„. ^e dauce over, ^
-tered out into the large haU, where Ren.!
r 43 ]
M'
/ i I
, AMOS JUDD
ish and Italian tapestries formed an opulent
harmony with Van Koover portraits. In the air
of this apartment one breathed the ancestral
repose that speaks of princely origin. It was
not intended, however, that this atmosphere
should recaU the founder of the house who,
but four generations ago, was peddling knick-
knacks along the Boweiy.
As Miss Cjabot was uncomfortably warm and
suggested a cooler air he led her to the farther
end of the long hall, beyond the stairs, and
halted at the entrance of a conservatory.
"Delicious!" and she inhaled a long breath
of the fresh, moist air.
"Wait for me just a moment, and I will
bring you the glass of water," and he vanished.
An inviting obscurity pervaded this conser-
vatory, which, like the rest of the Van Koover
mansion, was spacious and impressive. At the
farther end, the gloom was picturesquely
broken by rays of moonlight slanting through
[44]
AMOS JUDD
**" '^y »f»dow». The only living „
«emed to be „„. * «»"lMnt8
^ve". whose voice, .e« f.,„.,^
*e^h„h„,of.he.„«ef„„„..„..„^,^
-P-niment t, .he «,>u«on, tar'
Zt' '""""'''■ ^'""""^ - '^-^e .;
"e l»sta, she stood for .
•Jo™ into it, di!^/ """"'"' '"''"8
"•lody, „d . welcome re,tf„I„ess stole .entlf
"Pon her senses « sh, i„h I j ^
*~"* "^ ">« «~Pio». the peace «,d ™w.^
o' . .-»mer night She st<L LT ^
viel#l,'»» * "^ * moment
^^ to . ,e„t.e e„eh«.„,ent; it seemed
' *«-»t worid, .part fi^ .,^ ^^
»whichshe,i,ed,.,o.dor«owe„!r :r
«■»«, Of fom.t.i„s „d pe^e^ ; J^^;
-oon, «ht„d of whispeHn,,.,.^ """■-'
»^ W he«J »d looked . ^' * *"
looited toward the win.
i II
AMOS JUDD
dows beyond, where a flood of moonlight fflu-
mined deep masses of exotic foliage, repeating
them in fantastic shadows on the marble floor.
Walking slowly from the fountain, she lingered
between tiie overhanging pahns, then stepped
into the moonbeams, a radiant figure with her
bare neck and arms and glistening jewels in
this fiill white light, against the gloom of the
conservatory. The diamonds in the crescent
above her forehead flashed as if quivering into
life as she stopped and looked up at tiie
planet
A figure close beside her, that had formed
part of the surrounding shadow, started back
with a suddenness that caused her, also, to
retireat a step and press a hand to her heart
It was more from nervousness than fear, as she
was simply startled. She at once recovered her-
self, ashamed at being taken off her guard, but
a glance at the man beside her, whose face
was now also in the light, filled her with a
[46]
AMOS JUDD
f make ,„„ he we« „.. ^^^.^
K »« all to „ i^t„
^w- «d „ tocto...^ ,;,::j^t
stammered: ' ®
loigivc mc" ^
^«.eaeua.„,e.elie«e.ee„,„;^\^
■^ '-"X ««»^5 the pl.„b „d out of the
conservatory. ®
n- the d«., of the b.U-™,„, th^ gl,l ^th
[47]
Ill
AMOS JUDD
whom ihe was speaking introduced a friend,
and she found herself again in the presence
of the Connecticut fiurmer, the young man of
the moonlight. But this time he wore a very
different expression from that of the conser-
vatory. There was a pleasant smile on the
dark and somewhat boyish face as he apolo-
gized for thb scene among the plants. ''I am
sorry if it annoyed you, but I was startled by
an unexpected resemblance."
She looked into his eyes as he spoke, and
understood why the sculptor should have been
enthusiastic over such a face. It was of an tm-
familiar type, and bore a curious resemblance
to those she had attributed as a child to the
heroes of her imagination. The eyes were long,
dark, and seemed capable of any quantity of
expression, either good or bad. Miss Cabot was
uncertain as to whether they pleased her. At
present they looked somewhat anxiously into
her own with a touch of misgiving. Neverthe-
[48]
P^iy^^^gp'
IM
III '
:*
AMOS JUDD
««., A. fel. U«, h. WM teUtag her «J, ,
P**""" of the fruUi.
"""'•»y»l.fort»netort.rtIe«„,„,p«^
■^ g««t. ,h„ , .^ „p„„ ,^^^ ^^^^
■"""' " " '•' ■»« to .pologte. No," «,.„
conunutag UMy, m b. began . p„^.^„,„.
Vou needn't expl.i„, Do ^ t„„y^ ^^^^^
•*" '" '•" ■»• «»' only the mort dUturbtog
type" of be.uty c.u« you jurt that kind of .
•hock."
"But why not, if it i. the truth? Beride.,
- y«. .tepped out into the n,«,„l,ght you
were . bUnding .pperition, .11 i„ ^hit,, .^^^
the d.rkne« behind. I have no doubt the
«»oon herwlf wm , UtUe .tartled."
"You eertainly were Ie„ happy ta eonceJ-
••W y» agitation th«, the-other victim."
Although hi, „«„,„ ,„ deferential and
gave todication. of a podtive but diaceetly
"Prewed «lmi„tion, he felt ill ,t ^ ^,h
bm.lty^ in,p„,riM, ^ ^^^^^ ^ ^^^^^
[*9]
'iiii
n
AMOS JUDD
title, and turning partly away she looked over
the room, and answered:
"Since you are completely recovered and
my apology is accepted, I suppose there is
nothing more to be done."
As the words were uttered the opening
strains of a waltz came floating across the
hall, and he begged that she give him a dance
in token of absolution. It was easier to grant
it than to refuse, and in another moment they
were gliding over the floor. As they moved
away she experienced a new sensation. This
partner, while adapting himself to her own
movements, carried her with a gentle force
that relieved her of all volition. While, in ef-
fect, borne up and along by the music, she
was governed by a pressure that was hardly
perceptible; yet, at a critical instant, when a
reckless dancer came plunging toward them,
she felt herself swung lightly from his path,
to relapse at once into a tranquil security and
[ 50 ]
AMOS JUDD
float peacefully away. This floating with the
music was so easy, so ver^ d„,w8y and relax-
ing, that her consciousness almost drifted with
the rhythm of the waltz. Once, as her eyes
were uplifted to the gorgeous frieze, the white-
winged Cupids that a moment before were loU-
ing idly against the blue and gold background
seemed now to be keeping time with the mu-
sic, swaying and dancing in their irresponsible
nakedness.
Miss Cabot was surprised when the music
ceased and at once regretted having danced
such a length of time with a stranger of un-
savory reputation. As they left the baU-room
and entered the ancestral hall she was flushed
and out of breath, endeavoring with one hand
to replace a lock of hair that had fallen about
her neck.
"It's a shame," he muttered.
"What? That we danced so long?"
"Oh, nol That it should ever end!"
[51 ]
AMOS JUDD
They looked about for a resting-place, but
all were occupied. Girls in pink, in white, in
pale blue, in delicate yellow, in every color
that was becoming to their individual beauty,
or to its absence, were clustered about the
great hall, filling every seat Around them,
like bees in a flower garden, hovered men in
black.
"There is our chance," he said, pointing to
the stairs. Upon the first landmg, but three
steps from the floor, there was a semicircular
recess along whose wall ran a cushioned seat.
At the entrance, upon a pedestal of Sienna
marble, sat a Cupid with a finger upon his lips;
a bit of ancient sculpture from a Roman tem-
ple. Behind him, within, an inviting gloom
suggested repose and silence. As they stepped
upon the tiger-skin that nearly covered the
landing. Miss Cabot was accosted by a man
whose thoughtfiil face brightened up at the
meeting. When he glanced at her companion
[52]
AMOS JUDD
there was a simUar welcome, and they called
each other John and Amos, and appeared to
be on intimate terms. After a short conversa-
tion he left them and descended into the hall.
She was puzzled at the friendship of these two
men, and wondered what there could possibly
be in common between a promising clergyman
of exceptional purity of character and this dis-
solute, hot-headed Judd. As they seated them-
selves in the alcove, she said, in a tone of
surprise:
"So you and John Harding are friends!"
He smiled. "Yes; and I lament your as-
tonishment."
She blushed at her stupid betrayal of the
thought, while he made no effort to conceal
his amusement.
«It may be an unkind thing to say of him,
but we have been good friends for several
years."
Laying her fan in her lap, she devoted both
[53]
AMOS JUDD
hands to the wandering lock. "Is that what
drove him to *he church?"
"No. For that I am not responsible, thank
Heaven!"
"Why thank Heaven? Is there any harm in
being a clergyman?"
"It depends on the man. In this case it cer-
tainly seems a waste of good material."
Now, it happened that MoUy Cabot's reli-
gious convictions were deeply rooted, and she
felt a thrill of indignation at this slur upon a
sacred calling. Of course, it was not surprising
that a spoiled youth with a murderous temper
should prove an atheist and a scoffer, but she
was irritated, and instinctively took the field
as the champion of a righteous cause.
"Then you consider it a waste of good
material for an honest man to serve the
church?"
Her energy surprised him, but he answered,
pleasanUy: «I do not say that No one is too
[54]
n
I-
AMOS JUDD
good for any honest work. I only say that a
man of John Harding's originality and courage
puts himself in a false position by so doing."
"I do not see how," and her eyes were fixed
upon his own in open hostility. He still smiled
serenely and met her glance with provoking
calmness.
"WeU, at present he is young and full of
enthusiasm, believing everything, and more
besides; but he is only twenty-seven now and
will do a heap of thinking before he is forty.
The pathetic part of it is that he binds hunself
to a creed, and the man who can think for
thiri;een years on any subject witiiout modify-
ing his faith ought to be in a museum."
"Not if it is the true faith."
"If it is the true faith, there is danger in
thinking, as he may think away from it; so
why waste a brain Hke Harding's?"
In spite of a certain deference and gentie-
ness of tone with which he uttered these posi-
[55]
AMOS JUDD
Uve sentiments there was evident enjoyment
in the shock they created. While he was
speaking she noticed in the centre of his fore-
head a faint scar about the size of a thimble
end. It seemed an evanescent mark, only vis-
ible when he turned his face at certain angles
with the light, and suggested the thought that
if aU young men of such opinions were marked
in a similar manner it might serve as a whole-
some warning tb unbelievers.
She looked down at her fan a moment, then
answered, very quietly:
"So all clergymen over forty are either hyp-
ocrites or fools. It must be veiy satisfying to
enterUin a thorough contempt for so large a
profession."
"Oh, don't say contempt Rather an excess
of sympathy for the unfortunate."
At that moment Horace Bennett, in ascend-
ing the stairs, stopped for an instant upon the
lauding and stood facing them. His eyes rested
[56]
AMOS JUDD
upon herself and Mr. Judd, then she saw him
glance at the marble Cupid who, with his fin-
ger to his lips, seemed acting as a sentinel for
whatever lovers were within. Then he pulled
the ends of his miserable little mustache, and
with a half-suppressed smile muttered some-
thing to his companion, and they passed up
the stairs. The hot blood flew to her cheeks as
she recalled what he had said earlier in the
evening of this man beside her: "We were
sure to find him tucked away on the sUirs or
out on the porch with a girl. So we caUed him
the Bellehugger of Spoonmore."
Never in her life had she felt so degraded,
so cheapened in her own esteem. Hot, cold,
with burning cheeks, and tears of mortification
in her eyes she rose from her seat, pressing
a handkerchief against her lips, and stepped
swiftly out upon the landing and down into
the hall. Mr. Judd followed and inquired anx-
iously if she were ill; could he do anything?
[57]
I i'
ir
AMOS JUDD
Hi. «lldtade, which w„ ge„„to., «.^ t^
»• «»Itae h«, ext«orito^ he, b.h.vl„, „„rt
•PP«r t. hfa,. nie do* 1, to u,. j„„ ^^
""•^ coldly, „urt have rfected her. ft
«• only • UtUe diaiiieM.
To ker g«a «Hef , ,0^ ^ ^^ ^^
•7% op, and exclaimed:
"I h.ve been looktog eve,ywhe« fo, .<„,
Mi» Cbctl The cotillicn i. on!"
A fomul no4 to Mr. J„dd, .rf d,e mov«l
•w«7 With „ mattered p»ye, that their
path, in &t»« might be &, .p„t Her wiA
«• g»nted, .t Ie«t for th.t night, for d,e
"w him no more at the Vm, Kooven'.
When Ae re«Aed home «rf enterrf her
own eh«nber, the moonlight „. rt,e.nUng
into the room, .nd before tmning up the
%l>t. .he h«i the amc«i,y ,„ rt«,d near
the window with . haml.gU» «rf .judy her
°™ ««««•". Only the o™.! &ee wa. there.
""^ " '"^' "»■««"« t«, diort, the chto
[58]
AMOS JUDD
too long, «ul .U the other defect, were pres.
ent; but even in the moonhght they seemed
h«dJy .uffident to frighten « rtn,ng young
nun.
\ S9]
m
V
( ■
111
A FIRST interview with the Hon. J. W.
-^1. Cabot, senior member of the firm of
Cabot, Hollingsworth & Per^, genendly re-
-ulted in a belief that this distinguished law-
yer was a severe, unsympathetic man whose
dignity, under ordinary pressure, was not likely
to abate. An abundant crop of short gray hair
covered a squlwe, weU-shaped head; a head
that seemed hard and strong. His forehead,
his jaw, and his shoulders were also square,
and they also seemed hard and strong.
His manner was cold, his voice firm and
even, and he was never ruflled. The cool gray
eyes rested calmly upon you as if screening,
out of consideration for your own fallacious
knowledge, the profundity of wisdom that re-
posed behind them. His memory seemed in-
fallible. The extent and accuracy of his legal
knowledge was a perpetual surprise, even to
[60]
AMOS JUDD
hi. P-tner.. For Amplifying complex enUn-
glcmenu hi. dearies, «„d «pidity amounted
to . geniu.. Hie fee. were colossal. In short,
he seemed just the man who would never
write such a note as thi»:
iOWHEAD:
I Shall bring an old friend to dinner to-
night
J^'t give US rubber oUves or shad of last
ye«.'. vintage. He is not . bricA-bnu. shop.
JmsBv.
This document was sent to his daughter
who since her mother's death, three years'
•go, had managed the household. When «
child of five she overheard a friend address
him frequenUy as Jim, whereupon she ad-
justed a final syllable to render it le.s formal,
*nd ever after continued to use it
It was an afternoon in March that this note
arrived, nearly four months after the ball at
[61]
I'
/
I i
i '
AMOS JUDD
the Van Koover.', «id when, m hour or two
»«ter, her fiither preiented hi. old fHend, Mr
S-muel FetUpUce, .he w« rtruck by hi. enor-
mou. fi«„c «,d by the ext»orih«,y color of
hi. face. Thl. color, . bhuing, re.ple„dent red,
not only occupied hi. no.e wd cheek., but
extended, in quieter tone., over hi. forehe«i
•nd neck, even to the biUd .pot upon the top
of hi. head. It had eveiy .ppc««ce of being
thMt expendvfe decomtion that am only be
procured by « prolonged and con«rfentiou. in-
dulgence in the choicert Buigundie..
HiB large, round, light-blue eye. were aU the
bluer fiom their crim«m «,tting. A more honert
P^ she had never .een. The«., with hi. rilver
hair and benevolent forehead, gave the impre.-
•ion of a pleawntly intempemte bi.hop. Molly
Cabot well knew that her &ther, and tBptd^ly
her mother, could never have achieved a wann
*nd lasting fHend.hip for one whose habit,
were honestly repre.ented by .uch compromis-
ing colors. [ 62 ]
»
AMOS JUDD
WU, oM.f„hto«d c<H.rt«y he g,,. ^„ ^^
"" '"'° "» ««totag-«»n., «rf „ they ^^
U.««el».. .t ubie he «ud: "You ,ook ukt
'T '^"' '""«<•%."«» I «n gUd „n„
U.e«m.f.,J,e„,l«..d.,,„.,.dHe«n,eki„d
.rpre«lo„. >.,« .;. uj Hh, „ I „, ,.„ ,„,
^n't .. W l.A„,^, ,„^iH..ring the Bf. he
»« led, but il „.,„u b,. , ,.^,t,„ ,h,„g ,^,
• weU-meanin,, y . 1 lo reseu.ble uy Uwyer "
She Uughed= "But p.p. i. ™, „ t^ „
nc looks, you know."
"Ye., he i.; I have known him longer than
you have. But there .eem to be hono« i„ dis-
honor. During these yenr. that I have been
trotting about the globe he ha. been climbing
higher and higher, until now hi. legs are dan-
ghng from the topmost round. Why, J under-
•tand that none but the solidest billionaires and
the fattest monopolies presume to retain him."
"I am afraid someone took you for « hay-
[63 J
(
; )
fl
fl/l
AMOS JUDD
seed, Sarii, and has been stuffing you."
"No, they have not!" exclaimed the daugh-
ter. «Eve,ybody says he is the best lawyer in
New York. He has refused to be a judge sev-
eral Umesl"
"Oh, come, Molly! Don't make a fool of
your old &ther.'"
"Go ahead. Miss Molly," cried Mr. Fetti-
pl«^. "Don't mhid him! I know you are right
But I suppose he pays the customary penalty
for his greatness; slaves day and night, both
summer and winter, eh?"
"Yes, he does, and if you have any influ-
ence with him, Mr. Fettiplace, I wish you
would bring it to bear."
"I will. He shall do just as you decide."
"Now, Molly," said Mr. Cabot, «be just.
Have I not promised to take a three months'
vacation this summer?"
"Where do you spend the summer?" asked
Mr. Fettiplace.
[64J
AMOS JUDD
«I don't know yet. We gave up our place
•t the shore two year, ago. The salt air does
not agree with me any too well; and neither
MoUy nor I care for it particularly."
There was a pause, and the guest felt that
the wife's death might have saddened the
pleasant memories in the house by the sea.
As if struck with an idea, he laid down his
fork and exclaimed;
"Why not come to Daleford? There is a
house aU furnished and ready for you! My
daughter and her husUnd are going abroad,
and you could have it untU November if you
wished."
"Where is that, Sam?"
"WeU," said Mr. Fettiplace, closing his eyes
in a profound calculation, «I am weak at fig-
nres, but on the map it is north of Hartforf
and about a quarter of an inch below the
Massachusetts border."
Mr. Cabot laughed. «I remember you were
[65]
f^'
,1,
fi :
■ t
f V
AMOS JUDD
alway. weak at figures. What ia it, a fashion-
able resort?"
"Not at all. If that is what you are after,
don't think of it"
"But it is not what we are after," said
MoUy. «We want a quiet place to rest and
read in."
"With just enough walking and driving,"
put in the father, «to induce us to eat and
sleep a httl^ more than is necessary."
"Then Daleford is your place," and the
huge guest, with his head to one side, rolled
his light-blue eyes toward Molly.
"Do tell us about it," she demanded.
"Well, in the first place Daleford itself is
a forgotten little village, where nothing was
ever known to happen. Of course births, mar-
riages, and deaths have occurred there, but
even those thmgs have always been more un-
eventful than anywhere else. Nothuig can
teke place without the whole village knowing
[66]
AMOS JUDD
it, and knowing it at once: yet the inhabitants
are always asleep. No one is ever in sight. If
you should lock yourself in your own room,
pull down the curtains and sneeze, say your
prayers or change a garment at an unaccus-
tomed hour, all Daleford would be comment-
ing on it before you could unlock the door
and get downstairs again."
"That sounds inviting," said Mr. Cabot
"There is nothing like privacy."
"I only tell you this so there shall be no de-
ception. But all that does not really concern
you, as our house is a mile from the village."
Then he went on to describe its real advan-
tages: the pure air, the hills, the beautifol
scenery, the restful country life, and when he
kad finished his hearers were much interested
and thought seriously of going to see it
"I notice, Sam, that you make no mention
of the malaria, rheumatism, or organized bands
of mosquitoes, drunk with your own blood
[67 J
Hi
m
\i)
AMOS JUDD
who haul you from your bed at dead of night
Or do you take it for granted we should be
disappointed without those things?"
"No, sir. I take it for gmnted that eveiy
New Yorker brings those things with him,"
and again a large china-blue eye was obscured
by a laborious wink as its mate beamed trium-
phantly upon the daughter.
There were further questions regarding the
house, the m^s of getting there, and finally
Molly asked if there were any neighbors.
"Only one. The others are half a mile
away."
"And who is that one.?" she asked.
"That one is Judd, and he is an ideal
neighbor."
"Is he a farmer?"
"Yes, in a way. He raises horses and pups
and costly cattle." Then, turning to Mr. Cabot.
"It is the young man I brought into your
office this morning, Jim."
[68]
AMOS JUDD
"Well, he is too beautiful for the countiy!
If I could spend a summer near a face like
that I shouldn't care what the sceneiy was."
"Is his name Amos Judd?" asked Molly.
"Why, yes. Do you know him?"
"I think I met him early this winter. His
reputation is not the best in the world, is it?"
Mr. Fettiplace seemed embarrassed. He took
a sip of wine before answering.
"Perhaps not. There have been stories about
him, but," and he continued with more than
his habitual earnestness, «I have a higher
opinion of him and would trust him farther
than any young man I know!"
She felt, nevertheless, that Mr. Judd's repu-
tation might not be a proper subject for a
young lady to discuss, and she remained si-
lent. But her father was not a young lady, and
he had heard nothing of the improprieties of
the young man's career. "What is his particu-
lar line of sin?" he inquired.
[69 J
Id,
A
AMOS JUDD
"He has none. At present he is all right;
but at college, and that was five years ago, I
am afraid he took a livelier interest in petti-
coats than in the advertised course of study."
"Of course he did/' said Mr. Cabot. «That
beauty was given him for the delectation of
other mortals. To conceal it behind a book
would be opposing the will of his Creator."
"Poor Amos/' said Mr. Fettiplace with
a smile, as he slowly shook his head. "His
beauty is his curse. He regards it as a blight
IS ashamed of it, and would give a good deai
to look like other people. Eveiybody wonde«
who he is and where he came f,t,m. As for the
women, they simply cannot keep their eyes
away from him."
"If I were a woman," said Mr. Cabot, in
a slow, judicial mamier, -I should throw my
arms about his neck and insist upon remaining
there." *
Mr. Fettiplace chuckled, not only at the
[70]
AMOS JUDD
■olcmnity of his friend s face during the de-
livery of the speech, but at the contemptuous
silence with which this and simUar utterances
were received by the daughter. There had
always been a gentler and more lovable side
to James Cabot, and he was glad to see that
success and honors had not destroyed the
mental friskiness and love of nonsense that
had been an irresistible charm in former years.
He was also glad to witness the affection and
perfect understanding between father and
daughter. It was evident that from long ex-
perience she was always able to sift the wheat
from the chaff, and was never deceived or
unnecessarily shocked by anything he might
choose to say.
"Well, he will be here soon," said Mr. Fet-
tiplace, «but as you are only a man, you may
have to content yourself with sitting in his
lap."
"Is Mr. Judd coming here this evening?"
[71 J
Ui
AMOS JUDD
'»q"l«J M.%. to . ume tl-t bet«,ed „
•lwn<a of pltmrt .t the newi
H« f.U,„ ,„k«J „«, to ,»Ud .„,pri«.
"' *<" «»Bet to tell youf I .deed him
to dtoe, but he h«J „othe, e„g.ge„ent He
«• to d»p ,„ uter. And, by the w.y, S«,,
where did the young nnu. get thet ftee? No
"toe of Connecticut &™e» bequcthed «ch
*n inheritance."
"No, they did not Judd'. little myrtcy hw
■«ver been cle,«d u,x I c«> only „f^ ^
common knowledge of DJefori, that the boy
w« bought to thia counto- when he w„
•bout dx ye«, old, «,d th.t . few b«diul.
of di«nond, «,d nibie, c«ne with him. The
™"" of thi, ,„.»« h„ b^„ ex.gge„ted,
probably, but with ,11 .Ilow«,c« made it
must have «no„nted to mo« than a million
dollare."
"Why!" exclaimed Molly. "Ifs q„jte 1^,
a faiiy tale! "
[72]
AMOS JUDD
"Yes, and the mjntery ia stUl agoing. Jo-
d*h Judd, in whose hands he was placed, hap-
pened to be the only person who knew the
boy's histoiy, and he died without telling it
Who the child was or why he was sent here
no one knows and no one seems likely to dis-
cover. Josiah died about twelve years ago, and
ever since that time stray clusters of emeralds,
pearls, and diamonds have been turning up
in unexpected places about the house. Some
are hidden away in secretary drawers, others
folded in bits of paper behind books. They
have tumbled from the pockets of Josiah's old
clothes, and a few years ago his widow dis-
covered in one of his ancient slippers an enve-
lope containing something that felt like seeds.
On the outside was written 'Amos's things.'
She tore it open and found a dozen or more
magnificent rubies, rubies such as one never
sees in this countiy. They were sold for over
two hundred thousand dollars."
[73]
.«^"
AMOS JUDD
"G«d„„.|" excWmed Molly, ...h,,
««d him to !«,. u.e„ ta ^^
he cnmyf"
••On «.. e..^, h. «. too „«. No.
'» g»d„.lly. „d ^^^^ ^^^
•rfety to different pl«!e, «, „„. „ ^
i""™". » mat no one thief
- d .to., uj.„ ^. ^^^ ^ ^
"e Averted the p„K«d. to «„id «e«Htl.. N„
•^l.,ewele«ketlti.„.„u^„
that cracks and corner. f«^j .
comers to-dajr are hiding their
precious stones."
••How „y,tori„„ „j ^,^^^,.. ^^
Mo>'^"It«en„to..o.«.«,,„
New England."
••That i. j„.t the t,o„b,e with it," ..id her
&*l.er. He Ie«,ed back to hi. ehai, and eon-
ta.«eu,witha»,ae,..,.„.pectourgue.tha,
been readtog hi, -Monto CH^- ,.to,y, ^^.^
■»«y«c.«nt for. pardonable e«gge„tion to
[74 J
AMOS JUDD
a historian who means to be honest. Who told
you all this, Sam? The Judds* family cat?"
Mr. Fettiplace drew his hand slowly across
his forehead and closed his blue eyes, as if
heriUting for a reply. "There is so much that is
hard to believe connected with Amos that one
ought to prepare his audience before talking
about him. I will tell you one little thing that
happened to myself, an occurrence not de-
pendent upon other people's credulity. One
day hut autumn, late in the afternoon, I was
walking along an untravelled road through the
woods, when I met two little children who
were pkying horse. The front one, the horse,
wore a garment that looked like a white silk
overcoat without sleeves. Otherwise the chil-
dren were roughly clad, with battered straw
hats and bare feet. The overcoat had a curious.
Oriental cut, and there was a good deal of style
to it; so much, in fact, and of such a foreign
flavor, that I stopped to get a better look at
[75]
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I" I \t
AMOS JUDD
it. The wenrer, a boy of eight or ten, I recog-
nized as the son of an unprosperous farmer
who lived in a dilapidated old house not far
away. When I asked him where he got his
jacket he said he wore it at the children's
tableaux: that he was the prince who awoke
the sleeping beauty in the town hall last
night. Then I remembered there had been a
performance to raise money for the library.
"While talking with him I noticed there
were four rows of little pearl-shaped buttonj
around the neck and down the front. They
formed part of an elaborate design, beautifully
embroidered in gold and silver thread, old and
somewhat temished, but in excellent pres-
ervation. I asked him what those ornaments
were, and he answered they were beads.
*But who owns the jacket.?' I asked: 'Does
it belong to you?' No, it belonged to Mrs.
Judd, who had lent it for the performance.
*Then why don't you return it to Mrs. Judd?'
[76]
AMOS JUDD
Oh, they were going to return it to-morrow
morning. I offered to take it, as I was going
that way, and the jacket was handed over.
"The more I examined the article, the
more interested I became, and finally I sat
down on a rock and made a study of it. I
found the garment was of white silk and
completely covered with a most elaborate
stitching of gold and silver thread. I am no
expert in precious stones, but I knew those
beads were either pearls or tremendously
clever imitations, and when I remembered
there was a good old-fashioned mystery con-
nected with Amos's arrival in these parts, I
began to feel that the beads stood a fair
chance of being more than they pretended.
I counted a hundred and twenty of them.
"When I took the garment to Mrs. Judd
and told her what I thought, she did n't seem
at all surprised; simply told me it had been
lying in a bureau-drawer ever since Amos
[77]
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came, about twenty years ago. She is over
eighty and her memory has gone rapidly the
last few years, but she closed her eyes, stroked
her hair, and said she remembered now that
her husband had told her this jacket was
worth a good many dollars. And so they
always kept it locked away in an upstairs
drawer, but she had forgotten all about that
when she offered it to the Faxons for their
performance. Down the front of the jacket
were large splashes of a dark reddish-brown
color which she said had always been there,
and she remembered thinking, as she first laid
the coat away, that Amos had been in some
mischief with currant jelly. Amos was away
just then, but when he returned we took all
the beads off, and a few days later I showed
a dozen of them to a New York jeweller who
said they were not only real pearls, but for
size and quality he had seldom seen their
equal."
[78]
AMOS JUDD
"They must have been tremendously valu-
able," said Molly.
"They averaged twelve hundred dollars
apiece."
"Gracious!" she exclaimed. "And there
were a hundred and twenty of them?"
"Yes; they brought a little more than a
hundred and forty thousand dollars."
"It all harmonizes with Judd's appear-
ance," said Mr. Cabot; "I should not expect
him to subsist on every-day American divi-
dends. But it's a good jacket, even for fairy
land."
"Yes, it certainly is, and yet there was the
usual touch of economy in it," Mr. Fettiplace
continued. "When we came to remove the
pearls, we found a little gold loop or ring in
the setting behind each one of them. Those
loops passed through a sort of circular button-
hole in the garment, and a gold wire, running
along beneath the silk, held the jewels in
[79]
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place, so that by drawing out the wire they
were all detached."
"Well, where was the economy in that?"
"By being adjusted and removed so easily
they probably served, when occasion required,
as necklace, belt, bracelets, earrings, diadems,
or the Lord knows what."
"Of course," assented Mr. Calwt. «A frugal
device thAt might be of service to other farm-
ers. And you began, Sam, by describing Dale-
ford as an uneventful place. It seems to me
that Bagdad is nothing to it."
Mr. Fettiplace sipped his coffee without re-
plying. After a short silence, however, with
his eyes upon the coffee which he stirred in
an absent-minded way, he continued:
"There are one or two other things con-
nected with Judd which are much more diffi-
cult to explain. Daleford is full of mysterious
teles of supernatural happenings in which he
is the hero of prophecies and extiaordinaiy
[80]
AMOS JUDD
fulfilments; always incredible, but told in hon-
est faith by practical, hard-headed people. Any
native will give them to you by the yard, but
the hero, under no conditions, ever alludes tc»
them himself."
"Which probably proves," said Mr. Cabot,
"that the hero is the only one to be relied
on. It is such fun to believe in the incredible!
That is the charm of miracles, that they are
impossible."
The rosy guest turned to the daughter with
a smile, saying: "And there is nothing like a
hard-headed old lawyer to drag you back to
earth."
"What were these tales, Mr. Fettiplace.>
What did they refer to.?" she asked.
But Mr. Fettiplace evidently felt that he
had said enough, possibly because a portion
of his audience was not of encouraging ma-
terial, for he only answered in a general
way that the stories related to impossible
[81 ]
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«perie„e«, .„d we« p„bably „„,y vilW
gOMip. ^
After dinner they «.t .«„nd the fi,e In the
next ,„,„, the ,w„ „.„ with their cig.„ .„<,
Moll, .t work over, bit of upe,t^„p„,,„t.
«« the M.id of Orleans on. fat, white ho«e.
11^" ho«e,.eeoMi„g to her father, „„.t have
belonged to. Liverpool ci„u», and was loaned
to Jo«n. for t.pest,y only. When Mr. J„dd
•ppe«ed Molly felt » .„g„,„,^ .„.^^^ ^_^
this hero of the white j«,ke., but it wa, against
both eon«..ienee snd judgment and in spite of
a Piou, resolve to consider him simply „ .
bberhne with . mu«Je«,us temper. TT.at her
father »d Mr. Fettipl.ce h.d no such .bhor-
rence was evident from their corfial g^eting
The conversation bec«ne gene^l, although
theburde„ofitwasbon,ebyMr.Fcttip,.ce,
"ho seemed ,„ possess upon eve,y subject
either some interesting f„ts or . novel thco„
Once, when he was telling them something
[ 82 ]
AMOS JUDD
to amusing that it seemed safe to count upon
« strict attention from all his hearers, she
looked over at Mr. Judd and found his eyes
fixed earnestly upon her face. It was a look
«> serious, of such infinite melancholy that,
in surprise, her own glance involuntarily lin'
gcred for a second. He at once turned his eyes
in another direction, and she felt angryr with
herself for having given him even so slight a
testimonial of her interest. Although a trivial
episode, it served to increase the existing hos-
tility and to strengthen an heroic resolve. This
resolve was to impress upon him, kindly but
clearly, the impossibility of a serious respect on
her part for a person of such unenviable repute.
Later, when the two older men went up into
the library to settle some dispute concerning
a date, he came over and seated himself in a
chair nearer her own, but also facing the fire.
"Your ears must have tingled this evening,
Mr. Judd."
[ 83 ]
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AMOS JUDD
«Ah, h« Mr. Fettlpl«e been gi»w „.
away?"
"On the contraiy; he is . stanch friend of
yours."
"Indeed he fa, but i, „,gM ^„,„ ^ ^^
o^ingly .kilful friend t. th,„w . fi>v.„ble
light on such a subject"
"How delightfully „«le,t.' I .»,„„ y„„ fc,
««ve you an ejcellent character."
"Did you think it a wilfi., deception, .,
that he was simply mistaken?"
She turned and «.w upon his feee .„
.mused smile, half triumphant yet g«rf.h„.
mo«d. She lowered her eye. to the bm„.e
ornament on the table that was slowly revolv-
'"« '*'**™ *" finger "Am I so incapable
of believing good of others?"
"Certmnly not! But when I «., y.„ Ust 1
suffered from «. unpleasant belief that neither
the Devil nor myself were objects of your
.do»tio„. So I took the liberty of putting one
[84]
AMOS JUDD
or two things together, and decided that the
faithful Bennett might have honored mt by a
mention."
"HTiy suspect Mr. Bennett of such a thing?"
"'Veil, partly because he is a vindictive and
unscrupulous liar, and partly because he is the
only enemy I saw there."
This wa« said gently, in his usual low
voice, with perfect calmness, and it was said
amiably, as if sympathizing with an unfortu-
nate friend.
"You seem able to meet him on his own
ground."
"Oh, no! There is aU the difference in the
world."
She looked toward him interrogatively, but
with an expression that plainly indicated a dif-
ference of opinion. He continued in the same
tone, with no sign of animosity: "The differ-
ence is this, that he tells others what he never
tells me. I tell others his mind is filthy and his
185]
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AMOS JUDD
•pirit i. mean; that he is without honor wd
that he is a Jiar, but I also tell himr
"You have told him that?"
"Often; sometimes to himself alone, some-
times in the presence of others."
She could not restmin a smile. "It must be
a pleasant ithing io tell a man!"
"A man? Oh, that would be a different mat-
ter! "
There was a barUric simplicity in all this
that she could not help respecting, particularly
as she felt he was telling the truth: and she
sympathia^ with him heartily i„ this opinion
of Horace Bennett While openly unforgiving
and vindictive, he appeared to regard his
enemy with the half-serious contempt of a
gentle but experienced philosopher. But she
remembered her resolution.
"Mr. Fettiplace has been telling us about
that white jacket. What an interesting
stoiy!"
[86]
AMOS JUDI)
"Yes, everything he tell« i. interesting. He
h« a rare faculty in that direction."
"But in this case he had an unusual ,ul,jc.ot
It Is like a fairy story. I suppose you wore it
some t<me or other?"
"I suppose so."
"But you must remember."
"Vaguely. I was only seven years old when
I came to this country and I never wore it
here."
"Have you even forgotten how you spilled
the currant jelly down the front?"
"Currant jelly?" he repeated, and looked
inquiringly toward her. «I have not heard that
theory."
"Vou were the culprit and ought to know
But strawberry is just as bad, I sup,>ose."
^ After a slight hesitation he answered,
"Those are blood-stains."
Turning toward him for further information
she could not help thinking how nrnch morJ
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AMOS JUDD
he was in harmony with a tale of pearls and
mystery and human blood than with jam or
currant jelly. As he made no answer but sat
gazing absently at the fire, che expressed a
hope that his youthful nose had not collided
with the stairs or with the fist of some larger
boy. >
"No, not that exactly," he repUed, with his
eyes still upon the fire. "It is a long stoiy and
would not interest you." Then looking up, he
continued, with more animation, "I am glad
there is a possibility of your coming to Dale-
ford. It is an ideal place to be quiet in."
"So Mr. Fettiplace tells us, but you are
mistaken about the history of the jacket. It
mould interest me, and I should Uke extremely
to hear it; unless of course you prefer not to
tell it"
"If you wish to hear it that is reason enough
for the telling, but— isn't it rather cruel to
force a man to talk only about himself?"
[88]
AMOS JUDD
"No; not in this case. It gives an opportu-
nity to prove, by the perfection of your boy-
hood, that you are less vile than you believe
Horace Bennett to have painted you."
"That would be impossible. No human rec-
ord could wipe out an effect once laid in by
such a hand. Besides, there is nothing in the
jacket to repair a damaged reputation."
"The fact of telling the story will count in
your favor."
"In that case I will make an effort." He
rested an elbow on the arm of his chair, slowly
stroking the back of his head as if uncertain
where to begin. "It is really a foolish thing to
do," he said at last, "but if you are relentless
I suppose there is no escape. In the first place,
to begin at the very beginning, there was a
little court with arches all around it, with
grass in the centre and a fountain at each
comer. On the marble steps, at one end, we
were all sitting, a dozen or more children,
[89]
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AMOS JUDD
watching a man with a bear and two man-
keys. These monkeys had sham fights. One
was dressed like an English soldier with a
red jacket, and he always got the worst of it.
It was great fun and we all laughed."
"Where was this?"
"In In^ta. At the veiy beginning .f the
«how, when the Englid, „„„ie^ f„ ^ ^
ment w« „„ top, a serv„t rushed int. the
court and dragged me away. It was . barbar-
•"s deed,and I was ugly; „ disagreeable p^b-
ably as Horace Bennett could have wished
So I only lose ground, y„„ see, by telling this
story." ■
"Never mind. Unless you tell it I shall be-
lieve the woret"
"Well, looking b«=k as I was digged along,
the Ust thing I saw was the red monkey being
chased and beaten by the white one, and they
scrambled right up the bear's back. I„ the
chamber where we went that white jacket w«
[90]
AMOS JUDD
brought out and I made another row, for I
knew it meant a long and tiresome perform-
ance in which I had to keep still and behave
myself."
"A performance on a stage?"
"No; in a large room, with lots of people
standing about. As our procession started for
the big hall, which was several rooms away on
another side of the house, I noticed that my
uncle and one or two others kept closer to me
than usual. There was a tremendous haste and
confusion, and everybody seemed excited."
In telling his story Mr. Judd spoke in a low
voice, pronouncing his words clearly and with
a certain precision. His only gesture consisted
in occasionally drawing a hand slowly up the
back of his head, as if finding solace in rub-
bing the short thick hair in the wrong direc-
tion. Although his voice and manner suggested
an indolent repose, she noticed that the brown
hands, with their long fingers, were hard and
[91 J
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AMOS JUDD
muscular, and were the hands of a nervous
temperament.
"When we entered the large hall there
were lots of people, mostly soldiers, and in
uniforms I had not seen before. The principal
person seemed to be a short, thick-set man
with a n^und face and big eyes, who stood in
yhe centre of the room, and his wide sash
and odd-looking turban with gold scales in-
terested me tremendously. We all .«tood there
a few minutes and there was a good deal of
talk about something, when all of a sudden
this man with the handsome turban seized
me under the arms with both hands, lifted me
up, and handed me to a big chap behind him.
**Then came a free fight, a general commo-
tion, with shouting and rushing about, and
sword-blades in the air. A friend tried to pull
me away, but the big man who held me laid
h''s head open with a blow. A second later the
big man himself received a cut from my uncle
[92]
AMOS JUDD
at the base of his neck, where it joins the
shoulder, that made him stagger and turn half
about: then he tumbled to the floor and held
me all the tighter as he fell. As we landed
I came on top, but he rolled over and lay
across me with his head on my stomach. He
was so heavy that he held me down and the
)Iood poured from his neck over my white
clothes."
Molly had stopped working. With her
hands in her lap and her eyes fixed eagerly
on his face, she uttered an exclamation of
horror. He said, with a smile;
"Not a cheerful story, is it.?"
«It is awful! But what happened then.?"
"Well, as I struggled to get from under
I saw my uncle turn upon the first man, the
leader, but he was too late. Someone gave
him a thrust, and he staggered and came
down beside us. I remember he lay so near
that I reached out and touched his cheek
[93]
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AMOS JUDD
with my finger. I spoke to him, but he nevtr
answered."
There was a silence, she watching him,
waiting for the rest of the story, while he
gazed silently into the fire.
"And what happened next?"
"Oh, excuse me! That is about all. Dur-
ing the hubbub and slaughter my people
hauled me from beneath the big chap and
I was hurried away. I remember, as we ran
through the chambers near the little court,
I heard my friends still laughing at the
monkeys."
He seemed to consider the story finished.
"May I fool with that fire.>" he asked.
"Certainly, but what was aU the fighting
about?"
As the fire was encouraged into a fresher
life he answered; "I never knew distinctly.
That night a few others and myself went
down to the river, through the gardens, were
[94]
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AMOS JUDD
«wed t. . Utae rte^er ^ ^^^„ .^^
We »U,ed down . ,.„g ^,„^ ^^ ^^^
• b.K .te.mer brought three of u, to America.
And then to Daleford."
"Why on earth to Dalefordf"
"Because it wa. deti™ble to land „e in
~".e amusing „et«poli,, «,d I ,„ppo.e the
ehoice hy between Pa™ .nd Dalefori. Dale-
ford, of course, won."
"I t-n your pardon," .he hastened to
«y. "My curiosity seem, to be riming awa,
with me." * '
"Oh, plea« do not apologize. Here i. no
«eret about Daleforf. , only an,we,«l ,„
that way a, , .„dd,^. „^,^ ^^ ^^^^
■ng it must be to hear a. t™^5er tell pathetic
rtories about him«lf. It i. , ,h„ .p„,,^
They brought me to Daleforf through Mr
Judd-s brother, who was a good friend and
was with us at that row."
He stood before the fi,^ with the poker in
[9S]
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AMOS JUDD
his hand, and looked down with a smile as he
continued: "I believe you have never been to
Daleford, but if you were a field-mouse that
could sleep all winter, and didn't care to be
disturbed in summer, you would find it an
ideal spot. If you were a field-mouse of aver-
age social instincts you would never pull
through."
"And yet Mr. Fettiplace advises us to go
there."
"Oh, that's for a summer only, and is
quite different."
From Daleford they went to other sub-
jects, but to her his own career proved of far
greater interest, and the usual topics seemed
commonplace and uneventful by comparison.
Delicately and with subtle tact, she made one
or two eflTorts to get further information
regarding his childhood and the fabulous
jewels, but her endeavors were vain. Of
himself he talked no more. In a sense, how-
[96]
AMOS J V DD
ever, she was rewarded by a somewhat sur-
prising discovery i„ relation to his mental
furniture. When the conversation turned in-
cidentally upon litemture she found him in
the enjoyment of an ignorance so vast and
so comprehensive that it caused her, at first
to doubt the sincerity of his own self-con-'
viction. Of her favorite books he had not
read one. To him the standard novelists were
but names. Of their works he knew nothing.
This ignorance he confessed cheerfully and
without shame.
''But what do you do with yourself;^"
she demanded. «Do you never read any-
thuig.?" ^
"OK yes; I have not forgotten my letters
For modem facts I read the papers, and for
the other side of life I take poetry. But the
modern novel is too severe a punishment. It
IS neither poetry nor wisdom."
Until the two other men came down from
[97]
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the library she had no idea of the latenera
of the hour. Mr. Fettiplace laid a hand on
the young num's shoulder and, with a roseate
smile, expUdned the situation.
"This fellow is from the country, Miss Molly,
and you must excuse him for expecting, when
invite^ out to dinner, that he is to remain to
breakfast"
A moment or two later, as the three men
were standing before the fire, she was aston-
ished by a bit of unexpected wisdom. He was
regarding with apparent interest a little etch-
ing that hung near the mantel, when Mr.
Cabot explained that it was a very old one he
had purchased in Germany, and represented
the battle of Hennersdorf. Mr. Judd thought
it must be the battle of MoUwitz, and gave as
reasons for his belief the position of the Prus-
sians in relation to a certain hill and the re-
treat of the Austrian cavalry at that stage of
the fight. Mr. Cabot, obviously surprised at
[98]
AMOS ,1V DD
the«j deUil,, replied, jokingly, thkt he wa.
not in « position to contradict « soldier who
WM present at the battle.
This afforded great amusement to the rubi-
cund guest, who exclaimed;
"You might as well hack right down, Jim!
Amos is simply a walking cyclopedia of militaiy
facts; and not a condensed one either! He can
give you more reliable details of that battle
than Frederick himself, and of eveiy other
battle that has ever been fought, from Rame-
-es to U. S. Grant. He remembers everjrthing;
why the victors were victorious and how the
defeated might have won. I believe he sleeps
and eats with the great conquerors. You ought
to see his library. It is a gallery of slaughter,
containing nothing but records of camage-
and poetry. Nothing interests him like blood
and verses. Just think," he continued, turning
to Molly, «just think of wasting your life in
the nineteenth centuiy when you feel that
[99 J
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AMOS JUDD
you pouesk a maf^iificent genius for wholesale
murder that can never have a show!"
There was more bantering, especially be-
tween the older men, a promise to visit Dale-
ford, and the two guests departed.
r^
[ 100]
IV
JN April the abou took their trip to Dale-
J. ford .nd found it even more inviting than
Mr. Fettipl.ce h«l promised. The H,«ei«us
house among the elms, with its quaint old
flower-garden, the air, the hills, the restful
beauty of the country, were temptations not to
be resisted, and within am . month they
were comfortably adjusted ai • .at home.
The house, which had formerly ' .longed to
Mr. Morton Judd, stood several hundred feet
from the road at the end of an avenue of wide-
spreading maples. This avenue was the con-
tinuation of another and a similar avenue ex-
tending to the house of Josiah Judd, directly
opposite, and the same disUnce from the high-
way. As you stood at either end it was an un-
broken arch from one residence to the other.
When Mr. Morton Judd was married, some fifty
years ago, his father had erected this at -
[ 101 J
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AMOS JUDD
for him, but the young man soon after went
to India, where as a merchant and a financier
he achieved success, and where both he and
his wife now lay at rest. Although covering
as much ground, the house was less imposing
than the more venerable mansion at the other
end of the avenue.
The journey beneath the maples proved
such a pleasant one and was so easily made
as to invite a certain familiarity of intercourse
t''.at the Cabots saw no good reason to discour-
age. Mrs. Judd, a strong-framed woman with a
heavy chin, whose failing memory seemed her
only weakness, was now about eighty years of
age, and generally sat by a sunny window in
the big dining-room, where she rocked and
knitted from morning till night, paying little
attention to what went on about her. If Amos
had been her own son she could not have
loved him more, and this affection was re-
turned in full with an unceasing thoughtful-
[ 102 ]
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AMOS JUDD
ness and care. Both Molly and her father were
gratified at finding in this young man a neigh-
bor whose society it seemed safe to encourage.
He proved a sensible, unpretending person,
fond of fun and pleasure, but with plenty of
convictions; these convictions, however, while
a source of amusement to Mr. Cabot, were not
always accepted by the daughter. They were
often startling departures from his education
and environment, and showed little respect for
conventionalities. He never attended church,
but owned a pew in each of the five temples
at Daleford, and to each of these societies he
was a constant and liberal contributor. For
three of them he had given parsonages that
were ornaments to the village, and as the sec-
tarian spirit in that locality was alive and hot
these generous gifts had produced altemat-
ing outbursts of thankfulness and rage, all of
which apparently caused neither surprise nor
annoyance to the young philosopher. When
[ 103 ]
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AMOS JUDD
Molly Cabot told him, after learning this, that
it would indicate a more serious Christian
spirit if he paid for but a single pew and sat
in it, he answered:
"But that spirit is just the evti I try to ■■■■■■.
cape, for your good Christian is a hot sectarian.
It is the one thing in his religion he will fight
and die for, and it seems to me the one thing
he ought to be ashamed of. If any one sect is
right and the others wrong it is all a hideous
joke on the majority, and a proper respect for
the Creator prevents my believing in any such
favoritism."
Occasionally the memory of his offensive
title obtruded itself as a bar to that confi-
dence which is the foundation of friendship,
but as she knew him better it became more
difficult to believe that he could ever have
been, in its coarser sense, what that title sig-
nified. As regarded herself, there was never
on his part the faintest suggestion of anything
[ 104 ]
AMOS JUDD
that could be interpreted as love-making, „r
even as the mildest attempt at a flirtation.
She found him under all conditions simple
nd unassuming, and, she was forced to ad-
mit, with no visible tokens of that personal
vanity with which she had so lavishly en-
dowed him. His serious business in life was
the management of the Judd farm, and al-
though the care and development of his ani-
mals was more of a recreation than a rigid
necessity he wasted little money in u suc-
cessful experiments. Mr. Cabot soon discov-
ered that he was far more practical and busi-
ness-like than his leisurely manners seemed
to indicate. The fondness for animals that
seemed one of his strongest characteristics
was more an innate affection than a breeders
fancy. Eveiy animal on his place, from the
thoroughbred horses to the last litter of pups,
he regarded more as personal friends than as
objects of commercial value.
[ 105 J
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When Mr. Cabot and Molly made their first
visit to the farm, they noticed in the comer
of a field a number of dejected horses huddled
solemnly together. Most of them were well
beyond middle age and bore the clearest in-
dications of a future that was devoid of prom-
ise. They ^azed at the visitors with hstless
eyes, and as a congregation seemed burdened
with most of the physical imperfections of ex-
treme antiquity.
"What on earth are those?" asked Mr.
Cabot. "Revolutionary relics? They are too
fat for invalids."
"A few friends of my youth."
"I should think from the number you
have here that you never disposed of your
old friends," said Mr. Cabot.
"Only when life is a burden."
"Well, I am glad to see them," said Molly,
as she patted one or two of the noses that
were thrust toward her. «It does y credit
[ 106]
AMOS JUDD
I think it is horrid to sell a horse that has
used himself up in your service."
As the father and daughter walked home-
ward along the avenue of maples, Mr. Cabot
spoke of the pleasure the young man derived
from his animals, and the good sense he dis-
played in the management of his farm.
"Yes," said Molly, "and he seems too boy-
ish and full of fun for anything veiy weird
or uncanny. But Mr. Fettiplace certainly be-
Ueved in something of that kind, didn't he?"
«Of course, or he wouldn't be Fettiplace.
That sort: of thing is always interesting, and
the world is full of people who can believe
anything if they once put their minds on it.
Who is that in our yard?"
"Deacon White, I think. He has come to
train up some plants for me." A moment later
she took her father's arm and asked, with af-
fected humihty: "Jimsey, will you do some-
thing?"
[ 107]
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"No, for it 's sure to be foolish."
"Well, you are right, but you can do it so
much better than I. Deacon White has prob-
ably known Mr. Judd ever since he was a little
boy, and he would be glad of an opportunity
to tel' what he knows and give us all the
town talk 'besides. I do wish you would just
start him off."
"Start him off! On what? Judd's private
history? On the delicate matters he doesn't
wish advertised?"
"No, no! Of course not, papa! How un-
pleasant you are! I only want him to throw
some light on the mysterious things Mr. Fetti-
place alluded to."
"I shall do nothing of the kind. If you
really have a thirst for that sort of knowl-
edge, get a copy of Hans Andersen. He has
a better style than Deacon White."
A few moments later, when Molly and the
Deacon were alone in the old garden, her de-
[ 108 ]
AMOS JUDD
■ire for ■„&„„.«„„ ^„ ^^yg^ ^ ^^ ^^_
hoped-for extent, .„d the i„fo™.ti„„ ,..,
of . mo„ det«led „d „to„i,hi„g ch«,eter
""" '*•* """W >»'« presumed to «k {„
The Deacon, . little, round-shouldered, „.r-
n.w-ehested m„ .f .eventy, with . s„„^ried
fi«e, «. enonnou, nose, and . long receding
ehin with . white beard beneath, p„«e«ed
. pair of Wide-awake eyes that seemed m«,y
years younger than himself.
"I never have anything to do with r«,es
Without thinkin- of Amos. Did you ever no-
tice his?"
"Yes; they are splendid ones."
"Ain't they! Well, one momin', when he
was a little boy, I was helpin' hi™ set out
roses along the side of the house where the
big trellis is, and he said he wanted red ones
not yellow ones. I said: 'These are red on^s'
They are cut from the same slip as the othe,^
and they've got to be red whether they want
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AMOS JUDD
to or not.' Pretty soon Josiah came out, and
Amos said to him that he could see 'em next
spring and they would all be yellow. And
what took me all aback was that Josiah be-
lieved it, and tried to persuade him that he
might like yellow ones for a change. And I
tell you,'^' said the Deacon, as ne fixed his
little young eyes on her face to watch his
effect, ''I just stood with my mouth open one
momin', a year after, when I saw those roses,
that oughter been red, just come out into a
yeller. Of course it was a mistake in the
bush dt how did he know?"
"It might have been a coincidence."
**Yes, it might have been a coincidence.
But when a boy's life is made up of just those
things you begin to suspect after a while that
perhaps they are too everlastingly reliable for
coincidences. You can't always bet on coinci-
dences, but you can bet eveiy time on Amos.
My daughter Phcebe kept school down in the
[110]
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AMOS JUDD
village for a spell when Amos was about ten
years old. There was another boy, Billy Hines,
who never missed a lesson. Phebe knew he
was a dull boy and that he always tried to
give lamin' the whole road whenever he saw
it comin', and it kinder surprised her to have
him stand at the head of his class all the time
and make better recitations than smarter boys
who worked hard. But he always knew every-
thing and never missed a question. He and
Amos were great friends, more because Amos
felt sorry for him, I guess, than anything else.
Billy used to stand up and shine eveiy day,
when she knew mighty well he was the slow-
est chap in the whole school and hadn't stud-
led his lessons neither. Well, one day Amos
got hove about twenty feet by a colt he was
tryin' to ride and he stayed in bed a few
weeks. Durin' that time Billy Hines couldn't
answer a question. Not a question. He and
arithmetic were strangers. Also geography,
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history, and everything else that he'd been
intimate with. He jest stopped shinin', like a
candle with a stopper on it The amount of it
was she found that Amos had always told him
ahead the questions he was goin' to be asked,
and Billy learned the answers just before he
stood up to recite."
"Why, how did Amos— how did Mr. Judd
know what questions would be asked?"
"I guess 'twas just a series of coincidences
that happened to last all winter."
Molly laughed. "How unforgiving you are,
Mr. White! But did Amos Judd explain it?"
"He did n't. He was too young then to do it
to anybody's satisfaction, and now that he's
older he won't"
"Why not?"
"Well, he 's kind of sensitive about it Never
talks of those things, and don't like to have
other folks."
Molly stood looking over toward the Judd
[ 112]
AMOS JUDD
houw, wondering how much of the Deacon's
Ulc w« tn.th, and how much was village gos-
sip exaggerated by repetition.
"Did you ever hear about Josiah's death?"
Molly shook her head
"•Twas to him that Amos was fetched from
India, One momin' Josiah and I were standin'
in the doorway of his bam talkin'. The old
b.m used to be closer to the house, but Amos
tore it down after he built that tig new one.
Josiah and I stood in the doorway talkin' about
a new yoke of oxen; nothin' exdtin', for there
wasn't any cause for it We stood in the door-
way, both facin' out, when Josiah, without
givin' a, y notice, sort of pitched forward and
fell face down in the snow. I turned him over
and tried to lift him up, but when I saw his
face I was scared. Just at that particular min-
ute the doctor, with Amos sittin' in the sleigh
beside him, drove into the avenue and hurried
along as if he knew there was trouble. We
[ 113 J
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carried Josiah into the house, but "t wa'n't my
use. He wm detA before we got him there.
It WM heart disease. At the funeral I said to
the doctor it was lucky he happened along
just then, even if he couldn't save him, and
I found there was no happen about it; that
Amos had run to his house just as he was start-
ing off somcwheres else, and told him Josiah
was dyin' and to get there as fast as he could."
"That's very strange," Molly said, in a low
voice. She had listened to this story with a
feeling of awe, for she believed the Deacon to
be a truthful man, and this was an experience
of his own. "This mysterious faculty," she said,
"whatever it was, did he realise it fully him-
self?"
"I guess he did!" and the Deacon chuckled
as he went on with his work. "And he used to
play tricks with it. I tell you he was a handful."
"Did you say he lost it as he grew up?"
The Deacon turned about and answered, in
[ 114]
AMOS JUDD
• .eriou. tone: "Na But he wnU folk, to
think .o. All the «me. there's ,K>n,ething be-
tween Amo. «d the Almighty that the rest
of us ain't into."
One Monday morning, towarf the last of
June, Molly left Daleford for a two weeks-
visit at the seashore. Her absence caused a
void that extended from the Cabot household
over to the big white mansion at the further
end of the maples. This emptiness and desola-
tion drove the young man to frequ.ut visits
upon Mr. Cabot, who, in his turn, found a
pleasant relief in the companionship of his
neighbor, and he had no suspicion of the sol-
ace this visitor derived from sitting upon the
piazM so lately honored by the absent girl.
The eminent lawyer was not aware that he
himself, apart from all personal merit, was the
object of an ardent affection from his relation-
ship to his own daughter. For the first twenty,
four hours the two disransolates kept in their
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own preserves to a reasonable extent, but on
Tuesday they took a fishing trip, followed in
the evening by a long talk on the Cabot piazza.
During this conversation the lawyer realized
more fully than ever the courageous ignorance
of his neighbor in all matters that had failed
to interest him. On the other hand, he was
impressed by the young man's clear, compre-
hensive, and iietailed knowledge upon certain
unfamiliar subjects. In spite of his college edu-
cation and a very considerable knowledge of
the worid he was, mentally, something of a
spoiled child; yet from his good sense, origi-
nality, and moral courage he was always inter-
esting.
Wednesday, the third day, brought a north-
east gale that swept the hills and valleys of
Daleford with a drenching rain. Trees, bushes,
flowers, and blades of grass dripping with
water, bent and quivered before the wind. Mr.
Cabot spent the morning among his books
[116]
A M O s J r D D
and papers, y.dting letter, and doing some
work which the pleasant weather had caused
him to defer. For such labors this day seemed
especially designed. In the afternoon, about two
o'clock, he stood looking out upon the storm
from his library window, which was at the cor-
ner of the house and commanded the long
avenue toward the road. The tempest seemed
to rage more viciously than ever. Bounding
across the country in sheets of blinding rain,
it beat savagely against the glass, then poured
in unceasing torrents down the window-panes.
The ground was soaked and spongy with tem-
pestuous little puddles in every hollow of the
surface. In the distance, under the tossing
maples, he espied a figure coming along the
driveway in a waterproof and rubber boots.
He recognized Amos, his head to one side to
keep his hat on, gently trotting before the
gale, as the mighty force against his back ren-
dered a certain degree of speed perfunctory.
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AMOS JUDD
Mr. Cabot had begun to weary of solitude^ and
saw with satisfaction that Amos crossed the
road and continued along the avenue. Beneath
his waterproof was something laige and bulg-
ing, of which he seemed very careful. With a
smiling salutation he splashed by the window
toward the side door, laid off his outer coat and
wiped his ponderous boots in the hall, then
came into the library bearing an enormous
bunch of magnificent yellow roses. Mr. Cabot
recognized them as coming from a bush in
which its owner took the greatest pride, and
in a moment their fragrance filled the room.
"What beauties!" he exclaimed. "But are
you sure they are for me?"
"If she decides to give them to you, sir."
"She? Who? Bridget or Maggie?"
"Neither. They belong to the lady who is
now absent; whose soul is the Flower of Truth,
and whose beauty is the Glory of the Morn-
ing." Then he added, with a gesture of hu-
[ 118]
AMOS JUDD
mility, "That is, of course, if she will deign
to accept them."
"But, my well-meaning young friend, were
you gifted with less poetry and more expen-
ence you would know that these roses will be
faded and decaying memories long before the
recipient returns. And you a farmer!"
Amos looked at the clock. "You seem to
have precious little confidence in my flowers,
sir. They are good for three hours, I think."
"Three hours! Yes, but to-day is Wednes-
day and it is many times three hours before
next Monday afternoon."
A look of such complete surprise came
into Araos's face that Mr. Cabot smiled as he
asked, "Didn't you know her visit was to last
a fortnight?"
The young man made no answer to this,
but looked first at his questioner and then at
his roses with an air that struck Mr. Cabot at
the moment as one of embarrassment. As he
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AMOS JUDD
recalled it afterward, however, he gave it a dif-
ferent significance. With his eyes still on the
flowers Amos, in a lower voice, said, "Don't
you know that she is coming to-day?"
"No. Do you?"
The idea of a secret correspondence between
these two was not a pleasant surprise; and the
ract that he had been successfully kept in igno-
rance of an event of such importance irritated
him more than he cared to show. He asked,
somewhat dryly: "Have you heard from her?"
"No, sir, not a word," and m their eyes
met Mr. Cabot felt it was a truthful answer.
"Then why do you think she is coming?"
Amos looked at the clock and then at his
watch. "Has no one gone to the station for
her?"
"No one," replied Mr. Cabot, as he turned
away and seated himself at his desk. "Why
should they?"
Then, in a tone which struck its hearer as
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AMOS JUDD
being somewhat more melancholy than the sit-
uation demanded, the young man replied: "I
will explain all this to-morrow, or whenever
you wish, Mr. Cabot. It is a long stoiy, but if
she does come to-day she will be at the station
in about fifty minutes. You know what sort of a
vehicle the stage is. May I drive over for her?"
"Certainly, if you wish."
The youpg man lingered a moment as if
there was something more he wished to add,
but left the room without saying it. A min-
ute later he was running as fast as the gale
would let him along the avenue toward his
own house, and in a very short time Mr. Cabot
saw a pair of horses with a covered buggy, its
leather apron well up in front, come dashing
down the avenue from the opposite house.
Amid fountains of mud the little horses
wheeled into the road, trotted swiftly toward
the village and out of sight.
An hour and a half later the same horses,
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AMOS JUDD
bespattered and dripping, drew up at the door.
Amos got out first, and holding the reins with
one hand, assisted Molly with the other. From
the expression on the two faces it was evident
their cheerfulness was more than a match for
the fiercest weather. Mr. Cabot might perhaps
hrve been ashamed to confess it, but his was
a state of mind in which this excess of fehcity
annoyed him. He felt a touch of resentment
that another, however youthful and attractive,
should have been taken into her confidence'
while he was not even notified of her arrival.
But she received a hearty welcome, and her
impulsive, joyful embrace almost restored him
to a normal condition.
A few minutes later they were sitting in
the libraiy, she upon his lap recounting the
events that caused her unexpected return.
Ned Elliott was quite ill when she got there,
and last night the doctor pronounced it ty-
phoid fever; that of course upset the whole
[ 122 ]
AMOS JUDD
house, and she, knowing her room was needed,
decided during the night to come home this
morning. Such was the substance of the nar-
rative, but told in many words, with every
detail that occurred to her, and with frequent
ramifications; for the busy lawyer had always
made a point of taking a very serious interest
in whatever his only child saw fit to tell him.
And this had resulted in an intimacy and a
reliance upon each other which was verjr dear
to both. As Molly was telling her stoiy M«ggie
came in fix,m the kitchen and ha:, ed her fa-
ther a telegram, saying Joe had just brought
it from the post-office. Mr. Cabot felt for his
glasses and then remembered they were over
on his desk. So Molly tore it open and read
the message aloud.
Hon. James Cabot, Dalepord, Covn.
/ lea^efor home this afternoon hy the <me-foHy
train.
Mary Cabot.
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"Why, papa, it is my telegram ! How slow
it has been!"
"When did you send it?"
"1 gave it to Sam Elliott about nine o'clock
this morning, and it would n't be like him to
forget it"
"No, and probably he did not forget it. It
only waited at the Bingham station a few
hours to get its breath before starting on a
six-mile walk."
But he was glad to know she had sent the
message. Suddenly she wheeled about on his
knee and inserted her fingers between his col-
lar and his neck, an old trick of her childhood
and still employed when the closest attention
was required. «But how did you know I was
coming ? "
"I did not"
"But you sent for me."
"No, Amos went for you of his own ac-
cord."
[ 124 ]
AMOS JUDD
"Well, how did he know I was coming?"
Mr. Cabot raised his eyebrows. "1 have no
idea, unless you s nt him word."
"Of course I did n't send him word. What
an idea! Why don't you tell me how you
knew?" and the honest eyes were fixed upon
his own in stem disapproval. He smiled and
said it was evidently a mysterious case; that
she must cross-examine the prophet. He then
told her of the roses and of his interview with
Amos. She was mystified, and also a little ex-
cited as she recalled the stories of Deacon
White, but knowing her father would only
laugh at them, contented herself with exact-
ing the promise of an immediate explar^tion
from Mr. Judd.
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[125]
M
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EARLY in the evening the young man ap-
peared. He found Mr. Cabot and Molly
sitting before a cheerful fire, an agreeable con-
trast to the howling elements without. She
thanked him for the roses, expressing her ad-
miration for thei^ uncommon beauty.
With a grave salutation he answered, "I
told them, one morning, when they were little
buds, that if they surpassed all previous roses
there was a chance of being accepted by the
Dispenser of Sunshine who dwells across the
way; and this is the result of their efforts."
"The results are superb, and I am grate-
ful."
"There is no question of their beauty," said
Mr. Cabot, "and they appear to possess a
knowledge of coming events that must be of
value at times."
"It was not from the roses I got my infor-
[ 126]
AMOS JUDD
m.tion, sir. But I will tell you about that now,
if you wish."
"Well, take a cigar and clear up the rays-
tery."
It seemed a winter's evening, as the three
«at before the fire, the older man in the cen-
tre, the younger people on either side, facing
each other. Mr. Cabot crossed his legs, and
laying his magarine face downward upon his
lap, said, "1 confess I shall be glad to have the
puzzle solved, as it is a little deep for me ex-
cept on the theory that you are skilful liars.
Molly I know to be unpractised in that art,
but as for you, Amos, I can only guess what
you may conceal under a truthful exterior."
Amos smiled. «It is something to look hon-
est, and I am glad you can say even that."
Then, after a pause, he leaned back in his
chair and, in a voice at first a litUe con-
strained, thus began:
''As long ago as I can remember I used to
[127 ]
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AMOS JUDD
imagine things that were to happen, all sorts
of scenes and events that might possibly oc-
cur, as most children do, I suppose. But these
scenes, or imaginings, were of two kinds: those
that required a little effort of my own, and
another kind that came with no effort what-
ever. These last were the most usual, and were
sometimes of use, as they always came true.
That is, they never failed to occur just as I
had seen them. While a child this did not sur-
prise me, as I supposed all the rest of the
world were just like myself."
At this point Amos looked over toward
Molly and added, with a faint smile, "I know
just what your father is thinking. He is re-
gretting that an otherwise healthy young man
should develop such lamentable symptoms."
"Not at all," said Mr. Cabot. "It is veiy
interesting. Go on."
She felt annoyed by her father's calmness.
Here was the most extraordinary, the most
[ 128 J
AMOS J UDD
tn^^rellous thing .he had ever encountered,
•nd yet he behaved as if it were a common-
place experience of every-day life. And he
must know that Amos was telling the tnith!
But Amos himself showed no signs of annoy-
ance.
"As I grew older and discovered gradually
that none of m; friends had this faculty, and
that people looked upon it as something un-
canny and supernatural, I learned to keep it to
myself. I became almost ashamed of the pecu-
liarity and tried by disuse to outgn>w it, but
such a power is too useful a thing to ignore al-
together, and there are times when the temp-
tation is hard to resist. That was the case this
afternoon. I expected a friend who was to tele-
graph me if unable to come, and at half-past
two no message had arrived: but being familiar
with the customs of the Daleford office I knew
there might be a dozen telegrams and I get
none the wiser. So, not wishing to drive twelve
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miles for nothing in such a storm, I yielded
to the old temptetion and put myself ahead
—in spirit of course— and saw the train as it
arrived. You can imagine my surprise when
the first person to get off was Miss Molly
Cabot"
Her eyes were glowing with excitement Re-
pressing an exclamation of wonder, she turned
toward her father and was astonished, and
gently indignant, to find him in the placid
enjoyment of his cigar, showing no surprise.
Then she asked of Amos, almost in a whisper,
for her throat seemed very dry, "What Ume
was it when you saw this?"
"About half-past two."
"And the train got in at four."
"Yes, about four."
"You saw what occurred on the platform as
if you were there in person?" Mr. Cabot in-
quired.
**Yes, sir. The conductor helped her out and
[ 130]
AMOS JUDD
she Started to run into the station to get out
of the rain."
"Yes, yes!" from Molly.
"But the wind twisted you about and blew
you against him. And you both stuck there for
a second."
She laughed nervously: "Yes, that is just
what hapi>ened!"
"But I am surprised, Amos," put in Mr.
Cabot, "that you should have had so little
sympathy for a tempest-tossed lady as to fiul
to observe there was no carriage."
"I took it for granted you had sent for
her."
"But you saw there was none at the sta-
tion."
"There might have been several and I not
see them."
"Then your vision was limited to a certain
spot?"
"Yes, sir, in a way, for I could only see as if
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I were there in person, and I did not move
around to the other side of the station."
"Didn't you take notice as you approached?"
Amos drew a hand up the back of his head
and hesitoted before answering. "I closed my
eyes at home with a wish to be at the station
as the train came in, and I found myself there
without approaching it from any particular
direction."
"And if you had looked down the road,"
Mr. Cabot continued, after a pause, "you
would have seen yourself approaching in a
buggy?"
"Yes, probably."
"And from the buggy you might almost
have seen what you have just described." This
was said so calmly and pleasantly that Molly,
for an instant, did not catch its full meaning;
then her eyes, in disappointment, turned to
Amos. She thought there was a flush on the
dark face, and something resembling anger as
[ 132]
AMOS JUDD
the eyes turned toward her father. But Mr.
Cabot was watching the smoke as it curled
from his hps. After a very short pause Amos
said, quietly, "It had not occurred to me that
my statement could place me in such an un-
fortunate position."
"Not at all unfortunate," and Mr. Ubot
raised a hand in protest. "I know you too well,
Amos, to doubt ;'our sincerity. The worst I can
possibly believe is that you yourself are mis-
led: that you are perhaps attaching a false sig-
nificance to a series of events that might be
explained in another way."
Amos arose and stood facing them with his
back against the mantel. "You are much too
clever for me, Mr. Cabot. I hardly thought you
could accept this explanation, but I have told
you nothing but the truth."
"My dear boy, do not think for a moment
that I doubt your honesty. Older men than
you, and harder-headed ones, have digested
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more incredible things. In telling your stoiy
you ask me to believe what I consider impos-
Bible. There is no wdUuthenticated case on
record of such a faculty. It would interfere
with the workings of nature. Future events
could not arrange themselves with any confi-
dence in your vicinity, and aU historjr that is
to come, and even the elements, would be com-
pelled to adjust themselves according to your
predictions." '
"But, papa, you yourself had positive evi-
dence that he knew of my coming two hou«
before I came. How do you explain that?"
"I do not pretend to explain it, and I will
not infuriate Amos by calling it a good guess,
or a startling coincidence."
Amos smiled. «Oh, call it what you please,
Mr. Cabot But it seems to me that the fact
of these things invariably coming true ought
to count for something, even with the legal
mind."
[ 134]
AMOS JUDD
"You say there has never been a single case
in which your prophecy has failed?"
"Not one."
"Suppose, just for illustration, that you
should look ahead and see yourself in church
next Sunday standing on your head in the
aisle, and suppose you had a serious unwilling-
ness to perform the act. Would you still go to
church and do it?"
"I should go to church and do i
"Out of respect for the prophecy?"
"No, bee nse I could not prevent it"
"Have you often resisted?"
"Not veiy often, but enough to le-- the
lesson."
"And you have always fulfilled the proph-
ecy?"
"Always."
There was a short sUence during which
Molly kept her eyes on her work, while Amos
stood silently beside the fire as if there was
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"oUU^ »»« •» b. -id FMy M. CM
taockea the «h« ft™, h^ ^ .^
-.«. hi. ple...„t..t ™uie, »D. ,.„ tfctok if
o-e of these «ene. i.,„,v«, th, „„,„. ^
would alK> emy it oBt?"
"I thinit «o."
"•n..t if ,„„ t.u „,^ f„ ,„^^^^^ ^^^
tlung I rf..„M d. ,.-„,„«, .t j,,,^^ ^.^^^
I should do it?" '
"I thinlc so."
""""""»' ""'«5»% to do to.„onow.t
noon, „ the cloek striltes twelve?"
"Give me five minute,," „d with dosed
eye, .nd he«l slightly inclined, the young
■^ "■""""' ■'"*« ««™,t the mantel
«thout eh«.ging hi, position. It „emed .
long five minute,. Outside, the tempe,t be.t
vciously against the windows, then with moek-
«eks whirled away into the night To
Molly, excited fancy the echoing chimney
[136]
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AMOS JUDD
WM alive with the mutterings of unearthly
voices. Although in her father's judgment she
pUced a perfect trust, there stUl remained a
lingering faith in this supernatural power,
whatever it was; but she knew it to be a foith
her reason might not support. As for Amos, he
was certainly an interesting figure as he stood
before them, and nothing could be easier at
such a moment than for an imaginative girl to
invest him with mystic attributes. Although
outwardly American so far as raiment, the cut
of his hair, and his own efforts could produce
that impression, he remained, nevertheless,
distinctly Oriental. The dark skin, the long,
black, clearly marked eyebrows, the singular
beauty of his features, almost feminine in their
refinement, betrayed a race whose origin and
btiditions were far removed from his present
surroundings. She was struck by the little scar
upon his forehead, which seemed, of a sudden,
to glow and be alive, as if catching some re-
[ 137 ]
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flection fitm, the firelight WhUe her eye. were
upon it, the fire bhued up in . dying effort,
•nd went out; but the little scar remained .
luminous spot with . f.i„t light of it. own.
She drew her hand ac«>ss her bn,w to brush
•way the illusion, and as she again looked to-
ward him he opened his eyes and ndsed his
head. Then he said to her father, slowly, as if
from a desire to make no mistake:
"To-morrow you will be standing i„ fto„t rf
the Unitarian Church, looking up at the clock
on the steeple as it strikes twelve. Then you
will walk along by the Common until you are
opposite Caleb Famum's, cross the street, and
knock at his door. Mrs. Farnum will open it
She will show you into the parlor, the room on
the right, where you will sit down in a rocking,
chair and wait I left you there, but can tell
you the rest if you choose to give the time."
MoUy glanced at her father and was sur-
prised by his expression. Bending forward, his
[ 138 J
AMOS JUDD
eyes fixed upon Amot with a look of the deep-
est interest, he nude no effort to conceal his
astonishment He leaned back in the chair,
however, and resuming his old atUtude, said,
quietly:
"That is precisely what I intended to do to-
morrow, and at twelve o'clock, as I knew he
would be at home for his dinner. Is it possible
that a wholesome, out-of-doors young chap like
you can be something of a mind-reader and not
know it?"
"No, sir. I have no such talent."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure. It happens that you al-
ready intended to do the thing mentioned,
but that was merely a coincidence."
For a moment or two there was a silence,
during which Mr. Cabot seemed more inter-
ested in the appearance of his cigar than in
the previous conversation. At last he said:
"I understand you to say these scenes, or
[ 139]
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prophcciei, or whatever you caU them, have
never failed of coining true. Now, if I wilfully
refrain from calling on Mr. Famum to-morrow
it wiU have a tendency to prove, will it not,
that your system is fallible?"
"I suppose so."
"And if you can catch it in several such
errors you might* in time lose confidence in
it?"
"Very likely, but I think it will never hap-
pen. At least, not in such a way."
"Just leave that to me," and Mr. Cabot rose
from his seat and stood beside him in front of
the fire. "The only mystery. In my opinion, is
* vivid imagination that sometimes gets the
better of your facts; or rather combines with
your facts and gets the better of yourself.
These visions, however real, are such as come
not only to hosts of children, but to many
older people who are highstrung and imagina-
tive. As for the prophetic faculty, don't let
[ 140 ]
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AMOS JUDD
wony you. It i. . bump that hw
not
■prouted
Dwiel and Eiy.h ^ the only expert, of per-
nuncnt .fnding in th.t line, and even their
reputation* arc not what they used to be."
Amo. .miled and said «,mething about not
pretending to compete with professionals, and
the conver«ition turned to other matters. After
his departure, as they went upstairs, Molly li„.
gered in her father's chamber a moment and
«ked if he really thought Mr. Judd had seen
from his buggy the little incident at the sta-
tion which he thought had appeared to him in
his vision.
"It seems safe to suppose so," he answered.
And he could easily be misled by a little se-
quence of facts, fancies, and coincidences that
happened to form a harmonious whole."
"But in other matters he seems so sensible,
and he certainly is not easily deceived."
"Yes, I know, but those are often the veiy
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people who become the readiest victims. Now
Amos, with all his practical common-sense, I
know to be unusually romantic and imagina-
tive. He loves the mystic and the fabulous. The
other day while we were fishing together-
thank you, Maggie does love a fresh place for
my slippers every night— the other day I dis-
covered, from several things he said, that he
was an out-and-out fatalist But I think we
can weaken nis faith in all that. He is too
young and healthy and has too free a mind to
remain a permanent dupe."
[ 142]
VI
I
'T^HE next morning was clear and bright
X Mr. Cabot, absorbed in his work, spent
nearly the whole forenoon among his papers,
and when he saw Molly in her little cart drive
up to the do with a seamstress from the vil-
lage, he knew the day was getting on. Seeing
him still at his desk as she entered, she bent
over him and put a hand before his eyes. «0h,
crazy man! You have no idea what a day it is,'
and to waste it over an ink-pot! Why, it is
half-past eleven, and I believe you have been
here ever since I left. Stop that work this
minute and go out of doors." A cool cheek was
laid against his face and the pen removed from
his fingers. «Now mind."
"Well, you are right Let us both take a
walk."
"I wish I could, but I must start Mrs. Turr.er
on her sewing. Please go youreelf. It is a h uv-
enly day." f ,43 j
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AMOS JUDD
As he stepped off the piazza a few minutes
later, she called oiit from her chamber window,
"Which way are you going, papa?"
"To the village, and I will get the mail."
"Be sure and not go to Mr. Famum's."
"I promise," and with a smile he walked
away. Her enthusiasm over the quality of the
day he found was not misplaced. The pure,
fresh air brought a new life. Gigantic snowy
clouds, like the floating mountains of fairy
land, moved majestically across the heavens,
and the distant hills stood clear and sharp
against the dazzling blue. The road was muddy,
but that was a detail to a lover of nature, and
Mr. Cabot, as he strode rapidly toward the vil-
lage, experienced an elasticity and exhilara-
tion that recalled his younger days. He felt
more like dancing or climbing trees than plod-
ding sedately along a turnpike. With a quick,
youthful step he ascended the gentle incline
that led to the Common, and if a stranger had
[ 144 ]
AMOS JUDD
been caUed upon to guess at the gentlenum's
•«e M he walked jauntily into the village with
head erect, swinging his cane, he would more
likely have said thirty years than sixty. And
if the stranger had watched him for another
three minutes he would have modified his
guess, and not only have given him credit for
his full age, but might have suspected either
an excessive fatigue or a mild intemperance
For Mr. Cabot, during his short walk thix,ugh
Daleford Village, experienced a series of sen-
sations so novel and so crushing that he never,
in his inner self, recovered completely fo,m'
the shock.
Instead of keeping along the sidewalk to
the right and going to the post-office accord-
ing to his custom, he crossed the muddy road
and took the gravel walk that skirted the
Common. It seemed a natural course, and he
failed to realize, until he had done it, that he
was going out of his way. Now he must cross
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the road again when opposite the store. When
opposite the store^ however, instead of crossing
over he kept along as he had started. Then he
stopped, as if to turn, but his hesitation was
for a second only. Again he went ahead, along
the same path, by the side of the Common. It
was then that Mr. Cabot felt a mild but un-
pleasant thrill creep upward along his spine
and through his hair. This was caused by a
startling suspicion that his movements were
not in obedience to his own will. A moment
later it became a conviction. This conscious-
ness brought the cold sweat to his brow, but
he was too strong a man, too clear-headed and
determined, to lose his bearings without a
struggle or without a definite reason. With all
the force of his nature he stopped once more
to decide it, then and there: and again he
started forward. An indefinable, all-pervading
force, gentle but immeasurably stronger than
himself, was exerting an intangible pressure,
[146]
AMOS JUDD
and never in his recollection had he felt so
powerless, so weak, so completely at the mercy
of something that was no part of himself; yet,
while amazed and impressed beyond his own
belief, he suffered no obscurity of intellect.
The first surprise over, he was more puzzled
than terrified, more irritated than resigned.
For nearly a hundred yards he walked on,
impelled by he knew not what; then, with de-
liberate resolution, he stopped, clutched the
wooden railing at his side, and held it with an
iron grip. As he did so, the clock in the belfiy
of the Unitarian Church across the road began
striking twelve. He raised his eyes, and, re-
calling the prophecy of Amos, he bit his Mp,
and his head reeled as m a dream, "To-'
morrow, as the clock strikes twelve, you will
be standing in front of the Unitarian Church,
looking up at it" Each stroke of the bell—
and no bell ever sounded so loud-vibrated
through every nerve of his being. It was harsh,
[ 147 1
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AMOS JUDD
exultant, almost threatening, and his brain in
a numb, dull way seemed to quiver beneath
the blows. Yet, up there, about the white bel-
fry, pigeons strutted along the moulding, coo-
ing, quarrelsome, and important, Uke any other
pigeons. And the sunlight was even brighter
than usual; the sky bluer and more dazzling.
The tall spu^, frpm the moving clouds behind
it, seemed like a huge ship, sailing forward
and upward as if he and it were floating to a
different world.
Still holding fast to the fence, he drew the
other hand sharply across his eyes to raUy his
wavering senses. The big elms towered se-
renely above him, their leaves rustling Uke a
countless chorus in the summer breeze. Oppo-
site, the row of old-fashioned New England
houses stood calmly in their places, self-pos-
sessed, with no signs of agitation. The world,
to their knowledge, had undergone no sudden
changes within the last five minutes. It must
[ 148 J
AMOS JUDD
have been a delusion: a little collapge of his
nerves, perhaps. So many things can affect the
brain: any doctor could easily explain it. He
would rest a minute, then return.
As he made this resolve his left hand, like
a treacherous servant, quietly relaxed its hold
and he started off, not toward his h6me, but
forward, continuing his journey. He now real-
ized that the force which impelled him, al-
though gentle and seemingly not hostile in
purpose, was so much stronger than himself
that resistance was useless. During the next
three minutes, as he walked mechanically along
the sidewalk by the Common, his brain was
nervously active in an effort to arrive at some
solution of this erratic business; some sensible
solution that was based either on science or on
common-sense. But that solace was denied him.
The more he thought the less he knew. No
previous experience of his own, and no authen-
ticated experience of anyone else, at least of
[ 149 ]
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AMOS JUDD
which he had ever heard, could he summon to
assist him. When opposite the house of SiUs
Famum he turned and left the sidewalk, and
noticed, with an irresponsible interest as he
crossed the road, that with no care of his own
he avoided the puddles and selected for his
feet the drier places. This was another sur-
prise, for he took no thought of his steps; and
the discoveiy added to the overwhelming sense
of helplessness that was taking possession of
him. With no volition of his own he also
avoided the wet grass between the road and
the gravel walk. He next found himself in
front of Siks Famum's gate and his hand
reached forth to open it It was another nuld
surprise when this hand, like a conscious thing,
tried the wrong side of the little gate, then
felt about for the latch. The legs over which
he had ceased to have .direction, carried him
along the narrow brick walk, and one of them
Ufted him upon the granite doorstep.
[ 150]
AMOS JUDD
Once more he resolved, calmly and with a
serious determination, that this humiliating
comedy should go no farther. He would turn
•bout and go home without entering the
house. It would be well for Amos to know
that an old lawyer of sixty was composed of
diflPerent material from the impressionable en-
thusiast of twenty-seven. WhUe making this
resolve the soles of his shoes were drawing
themselves across the m,n semper; then he
saw his hand rise slowly toward the old-fash-
ioned knocker and, with three taps, announce
his presence. A huge fly doring on the knocker
flew off and lit again upon the panel of the
door. As it readjusted its wings and drew a
pah- of front legs over the top of its head Mr.
Cabot wondered, if at the creation of the
world, it was fore-ordained that this insect
should occupy that identical spot at a sped-
fied moment of a certain day, and execute
this trivial performance. If so, what a role
[ 151 ]
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humanity w«s playing! The door opened and
Mn. Faraum, with a smiling face, stood before
him.
"How do you do, Mr. Cabot? Won't you
step in?"
As he opened his lips to decline, he entered
the little hallway, was shown into the parlor
and sat in a horse-hair rocking-chair, in which
he waited for Mrs. Famum to call her hus-
band. When the husband came Mr. Cabot
stated his business and found that he was
once more dependent upon his own volition.
He could rise, walk to the window, say what
he wished, and sit down again when he de-
sired.
Upon reaching home he went directly to
his chamber, and was glad to enter it without
meeting his daughter. His reflection in the
mirror surprised him, as he expected to find
a face thirty years older than when it started
for the village. But there were no outward
[ 152 ]
I ,
AMOS J UDD
twees of the recent struggle. It was the same
face, calm, firm, and as self-reliant as ever.
This was reassuring and did much toward a re-
turn of confidence. He threw himself upon the
bed, and as he laj there he heard through the
open window the voices of Molly and Amos
in the old-fashioned garden. They seemed veiy
jolly and happy, and Molly's laughter came
like music to his ears; but her companion,
although amusing and full of fun, seemed to
do none of the laughing; and then it came
upon him that in all his intercourse with Amos
he had never heard him laugh. Ever ready to
smile, and often irresistible in his high spirits,
yet he never laughed aloud. And the deep
melancholy of his face when in repose— was
that a result of fulfilling prophecies? Were
there solemn secrets behind that boyish face?
The perfume of the flowers stole in through
the closed blinds, and he could hear the buzz-
ing of a bee outside the window, mingling
[ 153]
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AMOS J UDD
with the voices in the garden. TheM voice*
becwne lower, the rabject of conversation hav
ing changed-perhaps to something more se-
rious— and Mr. Cabot took a nap.
[ 154 ]
f*'.
VII
D
ID you go to Silas [•
ar. j'K ,
wn-
Molly'i first questioc u> d ..r futhir
confessed having done prerist l • r.s Amos fiad
predicted; but while givnif a tr uMn! a. comt
of his experience, he told ihe story a a haJf-
jesting manner, attributing lii couipuJsory
visit to some hypnotic influence, and to a tem-
porary irresponsibility of his own. His daugh-
ter, however, was not deceived Her belief in
a supernatural agency renewed its strength.
As for her father, he had never been more
*t sea in the solution of a problem. In his own
mind the only explanation was by the domi-
nance of another mind over his own, by a force
presumably mesmeric. The fact that Amos
himself was also a victim rendered that theory
difficult to accept, unless both were dupes of
some third person. If at the time of his visit to
Silas Famum he had been Ul, or weak, or in a
[ 155 ]
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AMOS JUDD
nervous condition, or had it occurred at night
when the imagination might get the better
of one's judgment, there would have been
the possibility of an explanation on physical
grounds. But that he, James Cabot, of good
health and strength, should, in the sunlight
of a summer noon, be the powerless victim of
such an influence, was a theory so mortifying
and preposterous as to upset his usual pro-
cesses of reason.
It was not untU the next afternoon that an
opportunity was given for a word with Amos.
Out on the grass, beneath a huge elm at the
easterly comer of the house, Mr. Cabot, in a
bamboo chair, was reclining with his paper,
when he noticed his young friend cantering
briskly along the road on a chestnut horse.
Amos saw him, turned his animal toward the
low stone wall that separated the Cabots* field
from the highway, cleared it with an easy
jump and came cantering over the grass.
[156]
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AMOS JUDD
"Is that old Betty? I didn't know she was
a jumper."
"Oh, yes. She has a record." Dismounting,
he faced her about and, with a tap on the
flank, told her to go home. She returned, how-
ever, and showed a desire to rub noses with
him. "Well, have your way, old lady," and
leaving her to a feast of clover he threw him-
self on the ground at Mr. Cabot's feet.
"You are a kind man to your animals, Amos,
although you may be somewhat offensive as a
prophet"
"So you went, after all?"
"Went where?"
"To see Silas Famum."
"Did I say that?"
Amos looked up with a smile that could
have a dozen meanings. His wily companion,
from a sense of professional cauUon, wished to
feel his way before committing himself.
"You think I went, after all?"
[ 157]
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AMOS J UDD
''Yes, sir, I know you did, from my own
experience."
"Which is that the events inevitably occur
as foreseen?"
"Always."
"Well, I will make a clean breast of it and
tell you just what happened."
"I know it, already, Mr. Cabot, as well as if
you had told me."
"Do you know of my resolve not to do it?
Of my ineffectual resistance and the sensations
I experienced?"
"I think so. I have been through it all my-
self."
For a minute or two neither spoke. Amos,
resting upon an elbow, his cheek against the
palm of one hand, was, with the other, de-
ceiving a very small caterpillar into useless
marches from one end of a blade of grass to
the other. Mr. Cabot, in a more serious tone,
continued: "Can you tell me, Amos, on your
[ 158 ]
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AMOS JUDD
honor, that as far as you know there was no at-
tempt on your part, or on the part of any other
person, to influence me upon that occasion?"
Amos tossed aside the blade of grass and
sat up. «I give you my word, sir, that so far as
I know there is nothing in it of that nature. I
am just as helpless as you when it comes to
any attempt at resistance."
"Then how do you account for it?"
Amos had plucked a longer blade of grass,
and was winding it about his fingers. "My
explanation may seem childish to you, but I
have no better one to offer. It is simply that
certain events are destined to occur at ap-
pointed times, and that my knowing it in ad-
vance is not allowed to interfere with the
natural order of things."
"The evidence may seem to point that way,
judging from my own experience, but can you
believe that the whole human race are carry-
ing out such a cut-and-dried scheme? Accord-
[ i59 ]
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AMOS JUDD
ing to that theory we are merely mechanical
dummies, irresponsible and helpless, like cogs
in a wheel."
"No, sir, we are at liberty to do just as we
please. It was your own idea going to Silas
Famum's. That you happened to be told of
it in advance created an artificial condition,
otherwise you would have gone there in peace
and happiness. In other words, it was ordained
that you should desire to do that thing, and
you were to do as you desired."
The lawyer remained silent a moment, his
face giving no indication either of belief or
denial.
"Have you never been able to prevent or
even modify the fulfilment of an act after
having seen it in advance?"
"No, sir; never."
"Then these scenes as presented to you
are invariably correct, without the slightest
change?"
[ 160]
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"Yes."
Mr. Cabot looked down at his friend with a
feeling that was not without a touch of awe.
Of the young man's honesty he had not the
slightest doubt, and his own recent experience
seemed but one more proof of the correctness
of his facts. He looked with a curious interest
upon this mysterious yet simple Oriental squat-
ting idly on the grass, his straw hat tilted back
on his head, the dark face bent forward, as with
careful fingers he gathered a bunch of clover.
"If this faculty never fails you your knowl-
edge of future events is simply without limit.
You can tell about the weather, the crops, the
stock market, the result of wars, marriages,
births, and deaths, and who the next president
is to be."
"Ye?, sir," he answered quietly, without
looking up.
Mr. Cabot straightened up in his chair and
rubbed his chin. His credulity had .cached its
[ 161 J
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AMOS JUDD
limit, yet, if he could judge by the evidence
already presented, the young man was adher-
ing strictly to the truth. There followed a
silence during which Betty, who in nibbling
about had approached within a few feet of
them, held out her head, and took the clover
from Amos. Mr. Cabot brought a pencil and
piece of paper from his pockets. "I would like
to try one more' experiment, with your per-
mission. Will you write on that paper what I
am to do at— well, say ten o'clock to-night?"
Amos took the paper and closed his eyes,
but in a moment looked up and said, " You
are in the dark and I can see nothing."
"Then you have no knowledge of what goes
on in the dark?"
"No, sir; only of things that I can see. If
there is any light at all I can see as if I were
there in person, but no better. To-night at ten
o'clock you are in your own chamber, and it is
absolutely black."
[ 162]
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AMOS JUDD
"Then change the hour to six o'clock."
As Mr. Cabot, a moment later, turned a
sidelong glance toward his friend, sitting with
closed eyes before him, he thought the little
mark upon his forehead had never been so
distinct. He regarded it with a mild surprise
as it seemed almost aglow; but the sky was
becoming rosy in the west, and there might be
a reflection from the setting sun. Amos wrote
something on a slip of paper, folded it up and
returned it to Mr. Cabot, who carefully tucked
it away in a pocket saying, "I shall not read it
until six-thirty. I will tell you to-morrow if
you are correct."
"Oh, that is correct, sir! You need have no
anxiety on that point."
As he spoke there passed slowly along the
road a cart containing two men, and behind
the cart, securely fastened, walked a heavy,
vicious-looking bull.
"That is an ugly brute," he said.
[ 163 J
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"So I was just thinking. Does he belong in
the town?"
"Yes; it is Banuud's bull. Yesterday he got
loose and so mutilated a horse that it had to
be shot; and within an hour he tried his best
to kill old Barnard himself, which was a good
undertaking and showed public spirit He is
sure to have a victim sooner or later, and it
certamly ought to«be old Barnard if anybody."
"Who is Barnard?"
"He is the oyster-eyed, malignant old liar
and skinflint who lives in that red house about
a mile below here."
"You seem to like him."
"I hate him."
"What has he done to you?"
"Nothing; but he bullies his wife, starves
his cattle, and cheats his neighbors. Even as
a small boy I knew enough to dislike him,
and whenever he went by the house I used to
stone him."
[ 164 ]
AMOS JUDD
"What • pleasant little neighbor you murt
have been!"
Amos tried to smUe, but his anger was evi-
dentij too serious a matter to be treated with
disrespect Mr. Cabot, after regarding for a
moment the wmthful eyes that still followed
the bull, continued:
"You are more than half barbarian, my war-
like farmer. Must you do physical damage to
eveiyone you dislike ? "
"No, sir; but as a rule I should like to.
As for loving your enemies-count me out
I love my friends. The man who pretends to
love his enemies is either a hypocrite or a
poor hater."
The older man smiled at the earnestness
with which this sentence was uttered. «I am
*fi»id, Mr. Amos Judd, you are not a Chris-
tian. Take my advice and join a bible-class
before the devil gets his other hand upon
you."
[ 165 ]
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After a few words on other matters, Amos
called his mare, and departed.
As the hour of six drew near, Mr. Cabot
made a point of realising that he was a free
agent and could do whatever he wished, and
he resolved that no guess, based on a proba-
bility, should prove correct. To assure himself
that there was ao omnpnlsion or outside influ-
ence of any nature, he started first for the bam
to execute a fantastic resolve, then as an addi-
tional proof that he was absolutely his own
master, suddenly changed his mind, turned
about, and went upstairs.
Going along a back passage with no definite
intention, he paused at a half-open door, looked
in, and entered. The blinds were closed, but
between the slats came bars of light fi«m the
western sun, illuminh)g the little room, an un-
used chamber, now serving as a storehouse for
such trunks and sundry relics as had failed to
reach the attic. Mr. Cabot noticed a rocking-
[166]
AMOS JUDD
hone in one comer and his eyes sparkled with
a new idea. After closing the door he dragged
the steed from its resting-place, planted it in
the middle of the floor, and looked at his
watch. It lacked four minutes of six. At he
prepared to mount he saw the legs of a mg-
baby projecting over a shelf, and pulling her
down, could not restrain a smile as he held her
in his arms. A large, round, flat, and very pale
but dirty &ce was emphasized by fieiy cheeks,
whose color, from a want of harmony with the
ooane material of her visage, had only lingered
in erratic blotches. With this lady in his arms
he mounted the horse, and, while gently rock-
ing with both feet on the ground, he again
took out his watch and found he was just on
the minute of six o'clock. But he kept his seat
for a moment longer, judging the situation too
good to be trifled with, and too unusual for
any ordinary guess. Carelessly he rocked a lit-
Ue faster, when a front foot of his overladen
[ 167 ] *^
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AMOS JUDD
steed slipped from its rocker and Mr, Cabot
nearly lost his balance. The damage, however,
he easily repaired; the rag-baby was replaced
upon her shelf, and when he left the little
room and returned to his own chamber there
was an expression upon his face that seemed
indicative of an amiable triumph. Some minutes
later, with a similar expression, he took from
his pocket; the sHp of paper on which Amos
had written, read it once with some haste,
then a second time and more carefully.
The Hon. James Cabot, one of the most respected
residents of Daleford, attempted at six o'clock to
elope with an obscure maiden of the village. But
his horse, an animal with one glass eye and no tail,
broke down before they had fairly started and went
lame in his off front foot.
For several minutes he stood looking down
at the paper between his fingers, occasionally
drawing a hand across his forehead. Then he
[ 168]
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AMOS JUDD
refolded the paper and placing it in his pocket,
took his hat and went out into the orchard, to
think, and to be alone.
On questioning Amos he found no more
light was to be expected from that quarter,
as the young man had already expounded his
only theory, which was that these visions were
but optional warnings of the inevitable; that
all was fore-ordained: that there could be no
variations in the course of Fate. His mind was
not philosophical; his processes of reason were
simple and direct, and he listened with pro-
found interest to Mr. Cabot's deeper and more
scientific attempts at reaching a consistent ex-
planation. Little progress, however, was made
in this direction, and the lawyer admitted that
the evidence, so far, contradicted in no detail
his friend's belief. He also found that Amos,
although deeply concerned in the subject when
once opened, rarely introduced it himself or
referred to it in any way; and that he never
[ 169 J
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AMOS JfJDD
employed hi, power exeept i„ the «re,t emer.
gencies.
Moreover, the L^^er unde«too<I how ,„oh
« faculty, although of value i„ certain ea^es
would, in the great majority, be worse than'
"«Ie», while it eould not fail of an overpower,
.ng iafluenee on the being who employed it
He respected the strength of p„rp«e that
enabled the younfe man to keep it in the back-
round, and he felt that he had discovered a'
least one reason for the restless pleasures .,f
his youth. Now, happily, he was securing a
calmer and a healthier diversion from a life in
tie open air. As his neighbor became the ob-
ject of a deeper study it was evident the eon-
flicting qualities that seemed to give such va.y.
■ng colors to his character were the result of
these extr«,rfina.7 conditions. His occasional
recklessness and indifference were now easily
explained. His disregard for religious obser-
vances was in perfect harmony with an insight
[ 170]
AMOS JUDD
into the workings of a stupendous fate, im-
measurably above the burning of candles and
the laws of ecclesiastical etiquette. His love
of exercise, of sunshine, of every form of plea-
sure and excitement, were but the means of
escape from the pursuing dread of an awful
knowledge. And the lavish generosity that
often startled his friends and bewildered Dale-
ford was a trivial matter to one who, if he cared
to peruse in advance the bulletins of the stock
exchange, could double his fortune in a day.
Off and on through July and a part of Au-
gust an unwonted animation prevailed at the
Cabots', extending at times along the maples
to the other house. Certain visitors of Molly's
were the cause of this gayety, and in their en-
tertainment she found Amos a helpful friend.
His horses, his fields, his groves, his fruits, his
flowers, and himself, were all at her disposal,
absolutely and at any time. A few friends of
his own coming at the same period proved a
f 171 ]
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AMOS JUDD
welcome reinforcement, and the leaves of the
old maples rustled with a new surprise at the
life and laughter, the movement, the color,
and the music that enlivened their restful
shades. And also at night, during the warm
evenings when farmers were abed, the air was
awake with melodies which floated off in the
summer air, dying away among the voices of
the frogs and turtles along the borders of the
meadow.
One warm afternoon in August, when there
were visitors at neither house, Amos and Molly
climbed over a wall into a pasture, for a
shorter cut toward home. The pasture was ex-
tensive, and their course lay diagonally across
a long hill, beyond whose brow they could see
nothing. A crimson sunshade and white dress
were in dazzling contrast to the dull greens
of the pasture, whose prevailing colors were
from rocks and withered grass. Patches of wild
bushes where the huckleberries were in over-
[ 172]
AMOS JUDD
whelming majority necessitated either wide
detours or careful mivigating among thorns and
briars. Her companion seemed indifferent to
the painful fact that knickerbockers are no
protection against these enemies. But pricks
in the leg at the present moment were too
trivial for notice. He was speaking with un-
usual earnestness, keeping close at her side,
and now and then looking anxiously into her
face. It may have been the heat and the exer-
cise that drove the color to her cheeks, and
there were also signs of annoyance as if she
desired to escape him; but the ground was
uneven, and the stones and bushes rendered
haste impossible. She also appeared tired, and
when they stopped at intervals always turned
away her face, until finally, when half across
the field, she sank upon a rock. «I really must
rest. I am dreadfully warm."
He stood beside her, facing in the same
direction, both looking over the peaceful val-
[ 173 J
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ley from which an occasional cow-bell was the
only sound.
"It is really a little unfair that my old
record should come between us. I vas only
twenty then, with no end of money and no
parents or guardian to look after me. Mr. Judd
would let me do whatever I wished, and of
course I sailed ahead and did everything. In-
stead of having an allowance like other fellows
I just asked for what I wanted, and always got
it And that is death to a boy."
He pulled a twig from a bush and began to
bite the end of it. If at that instent he had
glanced down at the face beside him, he might
have detected an expression that was not un-
justly severe. There was a distinct ray of sym-
pathy in the eyes that were fixed thoughtfully
upon the valley.
"And then all the girls met me more than
half-way, as if they, too, had conspired against
me."
[ 174 ]
AMOS JUDD
This was said in a half-reb. > ful, half-plain-
tive tone, and so delightfully free from any
boastfulness that Molly, to conceal something
very near a smile, bent her head and picked
nettles from her skirt
"Of courpj I liked a good time, there is no
denying that, and I struck the wrong gang at
college. I suppose I was weak— everlastingly
and disgustingly weak; but really you might
make allowances, and anyw&y — "
He stopped abruptly and turned about
Looking up she saw an expression in his eyes,
as they gazed at something behind her, that
caused her to spring to her feet and also turn
about As she did so the color left her face and
her knees gave way beneath her. Instinctively
she clutched his arm. Within twenty yards of
them stood Barnard's bull, and in his broad
black head and cruel horns, in the distended
nostrils and bloodshot eye, she read the fury
of an unreasoning brute; and with it her own
[175]
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death and mutilation. HelpleM they stood in
the open pasture with no tree or refuge near.
Amos cast a swift glance to the right, to the
left, and behind them. The bull lowered his
head just a very little, and as he stepped
slowly forward she could hear his breath in
impatient puffs. Her brain began to swim and
hhe closed her eyes, but a sharp word and a
rough shake bi;ought her back with a start
"Do just as I tell you. Turn and walk slowly
off to the wall at the right. Then climb over.
Don't run till I say so. Give me your parasol."
He twisted her about and gave her a push.
"Don't look around."
Gasping, faint, and so weak from terror that
she could hardly direct her steps, she did as
she was told. In her dazed mind there was no
conception of time or distance, but, a moment
after, hearing a snort from the bull and the
quick pounding of his feet, she stopped and
turned. She expected to see Amos on the crea-
[ 176 ]
AMOS JUDI)
tnre'i horns, but AnuM wm running in the
other direction, so far safe, although scarcely
his own length ahead. In an insUnt she saw to
her horror that, although a nimble runner, he
was losing distance with every spring of the
bull. But with a presence of mind that did
much toward renewing her own courage, he
kept looking over his shoulder, and when fur-
ther running was hopeless, he jumped swiftly
to one side, the side up the hill, and the pon-
derous brute plunged on for several feet before
he could come to a stop. Amos looked at once
in her direction, and when he saw her he
shook his hand and cried, in an angry voice:
"Run! Run! Your life depends on it!"
There was no time to say more, for the bull
had wheeled and was again coming toward
him. Molly turned and ran as she never ran
before, and never before did so many thoughts
flash through her mind. Above all came the
tort:uring regret that she could be of no pos-
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Bible service to the man who, at that moment
perhaps, was giving up his life for hers. Leap-
ing rocks, stumbling over hillocks, tearing
through bushes, she Fnall^ reached the wall,
scrambled up and over as best she could, then,
with a throbbing heart anr] pallid face, looked
back into the field.
They were farther up the hill, and Amos
had evidently j\i8t jumped aside, for again the
bull and he were facing each other. The ani-
mal was advancing slowly toward him, head
down, with an angry lashing of the tail and
occasional snorts that drove the blood from the
t
spectator's heart As Amos retreated slowly,
his face to the animal, she saw him look swiftly
in her direction, then back at the bull. Faster
and faster the animal came toward him, and
when finally he bounded forward on a run
Amos turned and ran for his life. He was now
making for this side of the pasture, but she
saw with the keenest anguish that all his elas-
[ 178]
AMOS JUDD
tidty had departed, that he was losing ground
much faster than at first. That he should show
signs of exhaustion caused her no surprise, for
the ground was rough, low briars and bushes
concealing rocks of treacherous shapes and
varying sizes, and the race was harder for the
man than for the bull. The distance between
them was being lessened with a rapidity that
might end the struggle without a second's
warning, and the horns were now within a
yard of his heels. Again he jumped to one side,
but this time it brought a cry of agony from
beyond the wall. His foot slipped, and instead
of hmding a yard or more from the creature's
path, he measured his length upon the ground.
The bull lowered his head and plunged sav-
«gely upon him. The horns grazed the pros-
trate body, and the heavy brute, by his own
impetus, dashed a dozen yards beyond. Amos
raised first his head and shoulders, then
climbed to his feet, slowly, like one bewildered
[ 179]
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or in pain. He stood cautiously apon his legs as
if uncertain of their allegiance, but he still
clutched the crimson sunshade. The bull, with
fiery nostrils and bloodshot eyes, once more
came on, and Amos started for the wall. It
was evident to the one spectator that his
strength was gone. With every jump of the
thing behind him he was losing ground, and
the awful end was near, and coming swiftly.
She sank against the wall and clutched it, for
the sky and pasture were beginning to revolve
before her straming eyes. But Amos, instead
of coming straight for the wall, bore down the
hill. With the hot breath close upon his heels,
he opened the crimson sunshade, jumped aside,
and thrust it upon the pursuing horns: then
without looking back he made a bee-line for
the wall. It was skilfully done, and for one
precious moment the seeming victor was de-
layed by goring the infuriating color; but only
for a moment. He saw his enemy escaping and
[ 180]
AMOS JUDD
bounded in pursuit. This time, however, he
missed him by a dozen feet and saw him vault
the barrier into safety. The wall he accepted
as a conclusion, but he stood close against it,
looking over in sullen anger, frothing, hot-
eyed, and out of breath.
Then he witnessed a scene, to him of little
interest, but which signified much to another
person. He saw the girl, anxious, pale, with dis-
ordered hair, eagerly approach the exhausted
runner; then, nervously pressing a hand to
her cheek, she bent forward and asked a ques-
tion. The young man, who was leaning against
a tree and seemed to have trouble with
his breathing, suddenly, with a joyful face,
stretched forth his hands, and with even more
eagerness than her own, asked in his turn a
question, whereupon the color rushed to her
face. Looking down, then up at him, then
down again, she smiled and muttered some-
thing, and he, without waiting for further
[ 181 ]
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AMOS JUDD
words, seized her in his arms, and with one
hand holding her chin, kissed her mouth and
cheeks, not once but many times. But she
pushed away from him, flushed and possibly
angry. However, it could not have been a
deep-seated or lasting anger, for she created
no disturbance when he took one of her hands
in both of his and made a little speech. It ap-
r ared an interesting discourse, although she
lov ..ed down and off, and all about, at every-
thing except at him, smiling and changing
color all the while. He seemed foolishly happy,
and when a moment later he wished to assist
in rearranging her hair, he was not depressed
because the offer was declined with contempt.
Then the young man took a few steps to-
ward the wall, and stood facing the huge head
whose bloodshot eyes were still upon him. As
he lifted his hand there was a hitch in the
motion, and a spasm of pain drew down a cor-
ner of his mouth, but the girl behind him
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could not see this. He raised his cap and
saluted his adversary.
"I thank you. Bull, for chasing me into
Molly Cabot's heart"
Then he turned, and hand in hand, the two
people disappeared among the pines.
[ 183]
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VIII
ytCCORDING to habit, Mr. Cabot composed
JTV. himself by the hbrarjr table that even-
ing for an hour's reading before going to bed,
but the book was soon lifted from his grasp
and Molly seated herself in his lap. Although
fingers were inserted between his collar and
neck as a warning that the closest attention
was expected, there followed a short silence
before any words were uttered. Then she told
him all: of being face to face with Barnard's
bull; of the narrow escape; of how Amos re-
mained alone in the open field, and lastly, she
gave the substance of what the rescuer had
said to her, and that she had promised to be
his wife. But on condition that her father
should consent.
He received the news gravely; confessed he
was not so very much surprised, although he
had hoped it would come a little later. And
[ 184]
AMOS JUDD
she was very happy to find he made no objec
tion to Amos as a son-in-law, and to hear him
praise his character and pronounce him an
honest, manly fellow. His behavior with the
bull was heroic, but did not she think the
reward he demanded was exorbitant? Was
it not a little greedy to ask as a price for
his services the entire value of the rescued
property? It certainly was not customary to
snatch away the object before placing it in
the owner's hands. "But he risked his life
to save yours, and for that he shall have
anything I own."
The following morning, as she stepped upon
the piazza, the doctor's buggy came down the
opposite avenue and turned toward the village.
Could old Mrs. Judd be ill? or was it one of
the servants?
An hour later, as there were still no signs
of her bull-fighter she began to feel a slight
annoyance. Perhaps after sleeping upon the
[ 185]
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AMOS JUDD
event* of yesterday his enthusiasm had cooled
Perhaps his exceptionally wide experience in
this field had taught him that the most deli-
cate way out of such dilemmas was to give the
girl the initiative, and perhaps, now that he
was sure she loved him, all the fun had de-
parted. Perhaps, in short, he was now realising
that he had committed himself. Although none
of these suspicions took a serious hold there
was a biting of the nether lip and a slight
flush upon the cheeks as she re-entered the
house; and in order that he might not suspect,
when he did come, that his delay had caused
the slightest feeling, or that anyone had
watched for him, she returned to her room.
A few moments later a note was brought in
which was received with indifference, but
which, after Maggie's departure she opened
with nervous fingers.
[186]
AMOS JUDD
Ti^Y G«t: That bull, God bless him!
irX smashed two of my ribs, the doctor
-y, but I know better. They were broken by
•n outward force, a sudden expansion of the
heart, and I felt them going when you came
into a pair of arms.
Please come over, or I shall fly away, as I
feel the sprouting of wings, and there is a
crocking among the other ribs.
Amos.
She went, and although their conversation
that morning touched upon ribs and anatomy,
it would, if taken as a whole, have been of
little value to a scientist It was distinctly per-
sonal. The one sentiment which appeared to
have an irresisUble fascination for the bull-
fighter and his fiancee colored all remarks,
and the fact that the dialogue would have
caused them the most intense mortification if
made public, tended in no degree to lessen
their enjoyment. To a middle-aged person who
[ 187 ]
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had never been in love it would have been
unendurable.
Uter in the day she intercepted the doctor
and learned as much as possible of the pa-
tient's condiUon. Two ribs were badly broken,
he Mid; had been pressed inwaid to a serious
extent, but so far there were no indications
of internal injuries. Of this, however, he could
not at present be absolutely sure, but he
thought there was no great cause for alarm.
The patient, of course, must keep quiet for a
week or two.
Fortunately for Amos there proved to be no
injury save the damaged ribs, but three long
weeks elapsed before he was allowed to go up
and down stairs and move about the house.
The last day of August proved a day of dis-
coveries.
It was bright and warm, yet invigorating,
the perfection of terrestrial weather, and Mr.
Cabot and Molly, early in the afternoon, were
[ 188 ]
AMOS JUDD
•Ittlng upon the pians discussing the date of
their departure, Amos occupying his favorite
place upon the floor in front of them, his back
•gainst a column. When she informed her
father that additional trunks or boxes of some
kind would be needed, Amos said that such
articles were going to waste in the Judd resi-
dence, and if she would but step across the
way and select a few, it would be a lasting
benefit to an overcrowded attic. TUs offer was
accepted and they storted off. A' 'imbing
the final stairs, which were steep a..^ narrow,
Molly seated hewelf upon an old-fashioned
■ettle, the back of which could be lowered and
used cs an ironing table. "How I do love this
sme'. of an attic! Is it the sap from the hot
pine? And isn't there sage in the air, or sum-
mer savory?"
"Both. With a few old love-letters and a
touch of dried apples."
"Whatever it is, I love it. The days of my
[ 189 J
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chUdhood come galloping back," and with
upturned face she closed her eyes and drew
a longer breath. He bent silenUj over and
touched her lips.
"What a breach of hospitality!"
"When a visitor insults a host by sleeping in
his presence, it is etiquette to awaken her. And
when lips with those particular undulations
look one pleasantly in the eye and say 'Amos,
kiss us,' what do you expect to happen?"
"From you I expect the worst, the most
improper tiling."
"And you will always get it, O spirit of old-
fashioned Roses!"
In opening a window he disturbed an enor-
mous fly, whose buzzing filled every comer of
the roof. «To me," he said, "this atmosphere
recalls long marches and battles, with splendid
victories and awful defeats."
"I don't see why. To me it seems deUght-
fiiUy restful."
[ 190]
AMOS JUDD
From an ancient horse-hair trunk he brought
forth a box, and seating himself at her feet,
emptied its contents upon the floor.
"This is why," and he arranged in parallel
lines the little leaden soldiers, diminutive can-
nons, some with wheels and some without,
and a quantity of dominos, two by two. "These
are troops, and if you care to know how I
passed the rainy days of boyhood this will
show you."
"But, what are the dominos?"
"They are the enemy. These lead soldiers
are mine, and they are all veterans, and all
brave. This is myself," and he held up a bent
and battered relic on a three-legged horse.
"And who are you in these fights. Goosey?"
"Napoleon, generaUy; often Csesar and
Frederick, and sometimes George Washington
and General Lee."
"But you have no head. Is n't that a draw-
back for a commander?"
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"Not with troops like these. I lost that head
at Quebec, as Montcalm."
She looked down upon him with a wish that
she also might have been one of those absurd
little soldiers and shared his victories.
"The cracks between the floor-lK>ards/' h
continued, "are railroads, rivers, canals, stone
walls, or mountain ranges, according to the
campaign." -,
"They must have been a nuisance, though.
Could not a soldier disappear and not return .J*"
"I should say he could! Why, those ravines
are gorged with heroes, and that recalls the
most humiliating event of my career. I was
leading the charge of the Light Brigade, six
of these cavalrymen, each representing a hun-
dred men. I of course was in front, and it was
a supreme moment. As we dashed across the
open field — the cracks, mind you, did n't count
this time — I, the leader, suddenly disappeared,
head downward, feet up, in an open field! Of
[ 192 ]
AMOS JUDD
course the charge could not stop, and the
others rushed on to a magnificent death."
With a sigh he gathered the motley com-
pany together again, and laid them away in
their box. She got up and moved about. «I
should like .o live in an attic. It is mysterious
and poetic, and so crammed with history-. Each
of these things has its little story for some-
body," andshe stopped before a curious feminine
garment in India silk, of a long-ago fashion.
Pointing to a quaint old cap with ear-laps,
she exclaimed, "What a funny rig that is! Put
it on." And she took it from its peg and placed
it upon his head, then laughed and led him to
a broken mirror that was hanging from a
rafter. "Unless you wear it in New York next
winter, I shall never many you!"
"Then I promise, but at present it is a trifle
warm."
As he removed it a letter slipped from the
lining and fell to the floor. She picked it up
[ 193 ]
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and turned it over in her fingers. "Why, it
has never been opened! It is directed to Mr.
Josiah Judd."
Amos examined it, studied the date, then
looked at the old cap. "He wore this at the
time of his death, when he had just come from
the post-office, and the Daleford postmark says
December fifth, the very day before. That is
very curious." And he stood looking down at
the letter, deep in thought.
"Why don't you open it? You are the one
who should do it, I suppose."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Where is it from?"
"India. From Mr. Morton Judd, his brother,
the one who sent me here."
"Oh, yes! I remember. Is Mr. Morton Judd
alive?"
"No, he died ten years ago."
"Well, please open it, for it may be interest-
ing. Come over near the light."
[ 194 ]
AMOS JUDD
As they stood by the open window, leaning
against the sill, he tore open the envelope and
began reading aloud, she looking idly out upon
some haymakers in a neighboring field. Their
voices came faintly to her ears, and they made
a pleasant picture in the afternoon sunlight
with the village spires, the tall elms, and the
purple hills for a background. She wondered if
India was at all like New England.
"pVEAk Josiah; The case ought to reach
A-^ you about a fortnight after this letter,
and if you will write to Mr. Wharton, or better
still, visit him, he will see that there is no
trouble at the Custom House. Give my love to
Sarah, but don't show her the shawl and the
silks before her birthday, in January. What you
say about the boy Amos does not surprise me,
and I was only waiting for you to make your
own discoveries. He gave clear indications
when a veiy small child of this same faculty
[ 195 ]
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in which his mother and the rest of his family
had great faith. In the box you will receive I
send a book giving an account of the Rajah
Sirdar Sing^ his ancestor, a hero of prophetic
powers who died ninety-eight years ago, so
this boy, according to tradition, should inherit
the same supen'itural faculties. Be careful that
he does not see tthis book before coming of
age, as it might put dangerous ideas into his
head, and if he should suspect what he really
is great mischief might ensue. I am glad he
is turning out such a sensible boy. But if he
should ever come over here and make himself
known it would cause a great disturbance, and
might result fatally to himself. Am sorry to
hear about Phil Bates's wife. She was a fool to
marry him. Your affectionate brother,
Morton Judd.
Amos stood looking down at the letter and
remained silent. She laid a hand upon his arm
[196]
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AMOS JUDD
and said, "What does it mean, Amos, about
not letting you know who you are? Who are
you?"
He looked up with a smile. "I don't kno^;
I can only guess."
"Well, what do you guess?"
"I guess that I am the rajah of that prov-
ince."
"Really? Why, you don't mean it! And have
you always known it?"
"I don't know it now, but I have always sus-
pected it."
"You funny old thing! Why, this is awfully
exciting! And you never told me!"
"Why should I? Your father would only
have hastened my departure if I had tried to
pass myself off as a fairy prince ; and you would
have laughed in my face."
"No. I am not so sure. But that was long
ago, and to-day I should believe anything you
told me."
[ 197 ]
f
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AMOS JUDD
"Well, I believe you would," and there, at
the open window, he put his ann about her
waist and did that unnecessary thing true
lovers seem unable to resist. She jumped away
to turn with an anxious face and look cau-
tiously through the window. But the distant
haymakers gave no signs of having received a
shock.
"Could they have seen?" she demanded.
He looked over upon the sunlit field. "No,
poor things, they missed it I"
But Molly moved away and seated herself
upon a venerable litUe horse-hair trunk whose
bald spots w* umerous and of considerable
extent Brass-headed nails, now black with
age, studded all its edges and formed at each
end the initials of Josiah Judd.
"Tell me, little Amos, what happened to
you as a child, that you should consider your-
self a faify prince."
The trunk was short for two, but Amos, by
[ 198 ]
AMOS JUDD
a little pushing and crowding, managed to sit
beside her.
"Well, in the first place, I was always too
wise and too amiable for an ordinary mor-"
"No, no! Be serious."
"Well, almost everything I remember seems
to point in that direction. For instance, there
was a separate seat for me on swell occasions,
« sort of throne, I should say, and all the other
people stood up. In the big hall I told you
about where the fight took place, I used to sit
in an ivory chair with gold ornaments on it,
cocked up on a platform apart from other peo-
ple. And that afternoon I was walking across
the hall toward it when the fierce-looking
chap with the beard caught me up and passed
me along."
"Gracious! This is very exciting! Go on."
"I could give you this sort of stuff by the
yard if the conditions were favorable. The
conditions now are unfavorable."
[ ^99 ]
Hi
AMOS JUDD
Their eyes met, but experience had taught
her caution. "Go on. There are no rajahs in
America, and you will do as I tell you."
"That is very true, but we are too far
apart"
"And all the while you are crowding me off
this trunk!"
"Yes, but at the ^me time I am holding
you on. Do you see that old rocking-chair
over there with one arm that is beckoning to
us?"
There followed a brief, illogical discussion,
then finally a gentle force was used by the
stronger party, and a moment kter the old
chair groaned beneath a heavier burden than
it had borne for thirty years.
After persistent urging the reminiscences
were continued. "They always helped me first
at table, no matter how old the other guests
were, or how many or how swell. The bowing
and saluting was much more elaborate toward
[ 200 ]
m
AMOS JUDD
t" "■"' ""^ •'"* -n* in fa,„t Sh.r.1.
"xmy in . «,rt of «„rty.rf ^,h .^„g, ,,^^
"., «.d I «meml„ what «, e,erU.H„g .fti,
i w«, «d how my unele „,, ,„ ^ ^^^^
•tood behind my chair, while <UI the .welU ««J
P"j««lr«m. cme „p .„d „luted me, then
r^ long. I d.o„Id „y the,« might h.ve
been . million I k„ow I went to sleep „d
7 •»«'« kept tapptag me on the .houlde, to
keep me awake."
"You poor little thing- But y„„ murt «.I,y
h.ve been wmething t«„endoudy important,
mustn't you?"
"It sect s so."
"Well, go on."
"After that there we,, some big reviews,
and I sat on a white pony with officer i„ a
semicircle behind me, while the t«K,ps marched
by, and the generals and colonels all saluted
[ 201 J
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AMOS JUDD
That WM great fun. And I shall never forget
my saddle of crimson leather with the gold
trimmings."
" How romantic! Why, it seems impossible!"
"Do you remember the head-dress in my
mother's miniature?"
"Yes."
"Well, I find that fiort of thing is only worn
by royalty."
There was a pause, during which the old
chair rocked gently to and fro, but noisily, as
if in protest against its double burden, while
the voices from the neighboring field came
drifting in the window and with them the
occasional tinkling of a cow-bell.
"And to think of your being here in Con-
necticut, a farmer! "
"Thank heaven I am!" and there followed
one of those foolish but apparently enjoyable
scenes which no dignified historian is expected
to describe. Stepping away from the rocking-
[ 202 ]
AMOS JUDD
T^ -^up^t « .h. p,««d „ «e.p,„g
««•. ««.ng «» «„t . U, of Mght „«. .fc.
•ttic tut UI„„ri„rf b,,
touch. • «°"«"
«We»»t«„dth.tb«,V.h.«.Uta,«,,
^* "'""'*''«-'«""««• "It Will tell „«,.
»eiy thing, we wish to know ro-,- .
J , «now. Lome, get ud.
•nd hunt!" "
Sl«wly^king,wi.hhi.he«,„.,„,.g.,„,,
'he eh.ir, he „g^,d ^^ ^^
one book I care to study and fh.f •
^' *"** *"«* " « poem in
pink, about five feet !>{« {« i _.^
e leet six in length, with gilt
edges at the top." *
She smiled sadiv "Nr« «^*
saoiy. No, not a poem, but venr
ordmaiy prose, and you will iref «. • ,.
j-uu win get precious little
wisdom from studying it."
"On the contra.7,eve,y page is a revelation.
Why, the binding alone is a poemf Merely
M ;
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s
AMOS JUDD
to hold it in one's lap and look at the cover
is a gentle intoxication."
Wavering between a smile and a frown, she
answered:
"I wonder if all rajahs are such transparent
flatterers. But come! Find the book! It must
be downstairs in the library."
"No, it is pot down there. I know every
book among them."
"Where can it be, then? tucked away in
some trunk or drawer?"
"Probably."
"Could it be in that?" and she pointed to
an old cherry-wood desk just behind him. He
turned and regarded it.
"As likely there as anywhere. It is the desk
he used until he died."
Molly opened the slanting top and found
an array of pigeonholes filled with old papers.
There were some very small drawers, all of
which she opened, but they contained no
[ 204 ]
AMOS J U D I)
book, so she closed tl e top and opened the
long upper drawer. It was alraosL empty, the
only contents being a few envelopes of seeds,
some tools, scattered caitls, and a couple of
marbles that ran about as the ditiwer was
opened.
"I rather think you know this place," and
she lifted up a bladeless jackknife. "Only a
boy could treat a knife in such a way."
"Yes, I remember all those things. That
wooden pistol has killed lots of Indians."
The second drawer held among other things
a camel's-hair shawl, a bed-cover, a pair of wo-
man's slippers, a huge shell-comb elaborately
carved, some black mits, and a package of let-
ters; almost everything except a book. The
third drawer and the fourth were equally dis-
appointing. The lowest drawer was deeper and
heavier, and it stuck. Amos sprang to help her,
and together they pulled it open, then sat
down upon the floor in front of it. The char-
[ 205 ]
M
\]
AMOS JUDD
acter of its contents was much like the others,
but Molly delved thoroughly among its trea-
sures and she received her reward. As her
hand was exploring a farther comer she looked
up into his face with a look of excitement
"Here is a book! It must be the one!" and
a little volume was drawn forth.
'"The Heroes of India!' aren't we in luck!"
It was a handsome little book, with a blue
morocco cover and gilt edges, published in
Calcutta. Turning over the leaves with eager
fingers she came to a bookmark opposite a
portrait, a steel engraving, showing the head
and shoulders of a bejewelled prince.
"Why, it might be you! It is exactly like
you! Look]" and she held it before him.
"So it is, but perhaps they all are. Let's
hear about him if you are sure he is our man."
"Oh, I am sure of it! He is the image of
you and the others are not;" and she began
to read.
[ 206 ]
i
X
AMOS JUDD
"Of all the royal families in India, none
claim an existence more remote than that of
the Maharaja Sirdar Oumra Sing. According to
accepted history and tradition, this princely
house not only dates back to the earliest cen-
turies of Eastern history, but owes its origin to
the immortal Vishn'u himself. It is a romantic
story, in fact the survival of an ancient fable,
poetic and supernatural, but, curiously enough,
seems to be substantiated by the extraordinary
attributes of a recent ruler. The Rajah Sirdar
Sing, whose portrait heads this article, was
perhaps the most popular hero of Northern
India, and unless we reject the evidence of pll
his contemporaries, was possessed of powers
that brought him the most startling victories
both in peace and war, and over adversaries
that were considered invmcible. His kingdom,
during his reign of thirty years, was nearly
doubled in territory and enormously increased
in wealth. In his own country to-day there
[ 207 ]
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AMOS JUDD
are none who question his prophetic powers:
men of science and of letters, historians, high
priests, lawyers, soldiers, all firmly believe in
his immortal gifts. To us Europeans, however,
these tales are more difficult of acceptance.
"In the very centre of Sirdar Sing's fore-
head the reader may have observed a faint
spot scarcely ^half an inch in diameter, and
this appeared, we are told, like a scar or a
bum, of a lighter color than the skin and,
except under certain conditions, was barely
noticeable. But the tradition runs that when
exercising his prophetic faculty this little spot
increased in brilliancy and almost glowed, as
if of flame."
"And so does yours!" and she regarded
him with a look of awe.
"Go ahead," he said, looking down at the
book. "Let us hear the rest"
[ 208 ]
AMOS JUDD
"The legend is this:
"When Vishn'u in his Krishn'a-AvatAra, or
eighth incarnation, was hard-pressed in his
war against the Kurus. he received great as-
sistance from Arjuna, a Pfin'd'u prince who,
after a four days' battle, and at great risk tJ
himself, delivered to his immortal ally the sa-
cred city of DwArakl For this service and in
token of his undying gratitude, Vishn'u laid
his finger upon the forehead of Arjuna and en-
dowea him with a knowledge of future events,
also promising that once in a hundred years a'
descendant should possess this priceless gift.
Although we may not accept this romantic
tale, there is no doubt whatever that Sirdar
Sing, the original of our portrait, was guided
by a knowledge of the future, either earthly
or divine, which neither scientists nor histo-
rians have yet explained. The next in order to
inherit this extraordinary faculty, if there is
truth in the legend, will be the son of the
[ 209 ]
■«
111
n
i
AMOS JUDD
present rajah, whose nuptials have just been
celebrated with s ;ch lavish and magnificent
festivities."
She paused for a moment, then with trem-
bling fingers turned back to the title-page.
The book was printed twenty-eight years ago,
the year before >Amos was bom.
For a long time they sat on the floor talk-
ing; she asking many questions and he an-
swering, until the listening objects in the attic
began to lose their outline and become a part
of the gloom. The sunlight along the rafters
dwindled to a narrow strip, then disappeared;
and the voices of the haymakers were long
since gone when Amos and Molly finally
climbed to their feet and descended the
stairs.
[210]
IX
QEPTEMBER brought other guest,, and
^ with their arrival Amos Judd and Molly
Cabot found the easy, irresponsible «,utine of
their happy summer again disturbed. To his
own fierce regret Amos could invent no decent
pretext for escaping a visit he had p„,mised
early in the summer, and a more unwilling
victim never resigned himself to a week of
pleasure. To the girl he was to leave behind
him, he bewailed the unreasonable cruelty of
his friends. "This leaving you. Soul of my
Soul, is worse than death. I shall not eat while
I am gone, and nights I shall sit up and curse."
But at the end of a week he returned,
promptly on the minute. His moments of de-
pression, however, seemed mther to increase
than diminish, and, although carefully re-
pressed, were visible to a pair of watchful
eyes. Upon his face when in repose there had
[211]
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1/
AMOS JUDD
always been a melancholy look, which now
seemed deepening as from an inward sorrow,
too strong to conquer. This was betrayed oc-
casionally by a careless speech, but to her
questioning he always returned a cheerful an-
swer. In spite of these heroic efforts to main-
tain a joyful front, Molly was not deceived,
and it was evident, even to Mr. Cabot, that the
young man was either ill in '>ody or the victim
of a mental disturbance that might be disas-
trous in its results. Of this he was destined to
have a closer knowledge thrn his daughter. It
came about one Sunday morning, when the
two men had climbed a neighboring hill for a
view which Mr. Cabot had postponed from
week to week since early June. This was his
last Sunday in Daleford and his final oppor-
tunity.
The view was weU worth the cUmb. The
day itself, such a dty as comes oftenest in
September, when the clear air is tempered to
[212]
^^
AMOS J UDD
the exact degree for human comfort by the
rays of a summer sun, was one in which the
most indifferent view could shine without an
effort. Below them, at the foot of the hill, lay
the village of Daleford with its single street.
Except the white spires of the churches, little
of it could be seen, however, beneath the four
rows of overhanging elms. Off to their left,
a mile or two away, «,e broad Connecticut,'
through its valley of elms, flowed serenely to
the sea; and beyond, the changing hills took
on every color from the deepest purple to a
golden yellow. A green valley on their right
wandered off among the woods and hills, and
in it the stetely avenue of maples they both
knew so weU. A sUence so absolute and so far-
reaching rested upon the scene that, after a
word or two of praise, the two men, from a
common impulse, remained without speaking.
As thus they sat under the gentle influence of
a spell which neither cared to break, the notes
[213 ]
I
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AMOS JUDD
of an organ came floating upward from the
trees below them, and mingled with the voices
of a choir. Mr. Cabot's thoughts turned at once
to the friend at his side, whom he felt must
exi)erience a yet deeper impression from these
familiar scenes of his childhood. Turning to
express this thought, he was so struck by the
look upon Amds's face, an expression of such
despairing melancholy, that he stopped in the
middle of his sentence. While well aware that
these tragic eyes were always most pathetic
objects in repose, he had never seen upon a
human face a clearer token of a hopeless
grief.
"What is it, my boy?" he asked, laying a
hand upon the knee beside him. "Tell me. I
may be able to help you."
There was a slight hesitation and a long
breath before the answer came. "I am ashamed
to tell you, Mr. Cabot. I value your good opin-
ion so very much that it comes hard to let you
[ 2U J
3
f i
AMOS JUDD
know wh.t • weak and cow*rdI;r thing I have
b«en, and am."
"Cowarfly-that I do not believe. You may
be weak; all ofus are that; in fact, it seems to
be the distinguishing attribute of the human
fiunUy. But out with it, whatever it is. You can
trust me."
"Oh, I know that, sir! If you were only less
of • T«n and more hke myself, it would be
easier to do it But I will tell you the whole
story. By the fourth of November I shall not
be alive, and I have known it for a year."
Mr. Cabot turned in surprise. "Why do you
think that?"
But Amos went on without heeding the
question.
"1 knew it when I asked Molly to be my
wife; and aU the time that she has gone on
loving me more and more, I have known it,
and done all I could to make things worse.
And now, as the time approaches and I realize
[ 215 J
' I
J
AMOS JUDD
that in a few weeks she will be a broken-
hearted woman— for I have learned what her
affection is and how much I am to her— now I
begin to see what I have done. God knows it
is hard enough to die and leave her, but to die
only to have played a practical joke on the girl
for whom I would joyfully give a thousand lives
if I had them, is too much."
He arose, »and standing before her father,
made a slight gesture as of surrender and resig-
nation. The older man looked away toward the
distant river, but said nothing.
"Listen, sir, and try to believe me." Mr.
Cabot raised his glance to the dark face and
saw truth and an open heart in the eyes fixed
solemnly upon his own; and he recognized a
being transformed by a passion immeasurably
stronger than himself.
"When I found she loved me I could think
of nothing else. Why should I not be happy
for the short time I had to live? Her love was
[216]
AMOS JUDD
more to me than any earthly thing, than any
possible hereafter. Better one summer with her
than to live forever and not have known her.
Oh! I thought of her side of it, often and
often; many a night I have done nothing else,
but I could no more give her up than I could
lift this hill." He paused, drew a long breath,
as if at the hopelessness of words to convey his
meaning, then added, very calmly:
"Now I am soberer, as the end approaches,
and I love her more than ever: but I will
do whatever you say; anything that will make
her happier. No sacrifice can be too great, and
I promise you I will make it. I have often
wished the bull had killed me that day, then I
should have her love and respect forever; and
yours too, perhaps."
"You have both now, Amos. But tell me
why you think you are to die by November
fourth?"
Amos resumed his seat upon the rock and
[217 ]
A
r
\\
)i
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it'
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AMOS JUDD
answered: ''Because I have seen myself lying
dead on that day."
"I have sometimes wondered," said Mr.
Cabot, "if that temptation would not prove too
strong for you."
"No, sir, it was not too strong for me under
ordinary circumstances, but it happened when
I was not myself, when I came out of that fever
hist October,) and as I lay in bed, weak and
half-conscious, I felt sure my day had come. I
thought the doctor was not telling me the
truth, so, by looking ahead for myself, I learned
more than I cared to know, and saw myself
lying on a sofa in a strange room, a place I had
never been into; a public building, I should
think."
"But why do you think it is to be the fourth
of November, and this year?"
"Because I looked about and saw near a
window a little day calendar, and that was the
date it bore. Then on a table lay a daily paper
[218]
AMOS JUDD
of the day before, and two magazines of the
same month, all of this year."
"But is it not possible the room is unoccu-
pied and that these things have been lying
there indefinitely?"
Amos shook his head. «No, sir, it is a room
that is lived in. There are other papers lying
about: books, and a letter on the desk waiting
to be mailed. And in the fireplace the embers
are still glowing."
Mr. Cabot looked with the profoundest sym-
pathy toward his friend, who was scaling bits
of moss from the rock beside him ; then he
turned again to the view and its tranquil
beauty seemed a mockeiy. In the village be-
low them he could see the congregation pour-
ing out from a little white church like ants
from a loaf of sugar. Mr. Cabot was not a re-
ligious man, and at present there was nothing
in his heart that could be mistaken for resig-
nation. His spirit was in revolt, his pugnacity
[ 219 ]
f
i !
AMOS JUDD
aroused, and with this quality he was freely
endowed Rising to his feet he stood for a
moment in silence, with folded arms, fiowning
upon the distant hills.
"Amos," he said, finally, «in spite of bygone
defeats I am inclined to resist this prophecy of
yours. You were not absolutely master of your
own mind at the time, and under such condi-
tions nothing would be easier than to confuse
your own imagining with a vision of another
character. At least it is not unpossible, and if
by good luck you did happen to confound one
with the other we are having our panic for
nothing. Moreover, even if this vision is cor-
rect, it need not necessarily signify an unde-
viating fulfilment in every detail. It may indi-
cate the result to be expected in the natural
order of events; that is, if things are allowed
to take their course without obstruction or in-
tervening influences. But it is difficult for me
to believe this fiiculty is to continue infallible
[ 220 ]
AMOS JUDD
through all your mental and physical develop-
ments and fluctuations of faith, and never,
under any possible conditions, vary a hairV
breadth from the truth. It is a law of nature
that a disused faculty shall weaken and lose
its power, ,»nd for years you have done your
best to repress and forget it"
"Yes, sir, but whenever employed it has
been correct."
"That may be, and its day of failure st
remain a probability. In this present case the
prophecy, aside from its uncertain origin, is
one whose fizlfilment is more easy to avert than
some of the others. You say the room in which
you saw yourself is one you are unfamiliar with,
and consequenUy is not in Daleford."
"Oh, no! There is nothing like it in this
vicinity."
"WeU, suppose you were to remain in Dale-
ford during the critical period with two men,
nominally visitors at your house, to watch you'
[221 ]
AMOS JUDD
day and night and see that you do not escape?
Or, better still, let me send you to an institu-
tion in which I am a director, where you will
be confined as a dangerous patient, and where
escape, even if you attempted it, would be as
hopeless as from a prison."
Amos doubted the success of any attempt at
foiling fate, or, in other words, giving the lie
to a revelatidn once received, but he was will-
ing to do whatever his friend desired. As they
walked home they discussed the plan in detail
and decided to act upon it; also to take eveiy
precaution that Molly should be kept in igno-
rance.
The first week in October the house at the
north end of the avenue was empty and the
Cabots were in New York. As the end of the
month approached a little tale was invented
to explain the cessation for a time of Amos's
visits, and early one afternoon the two men
got into a cab and were driven to the out-
[ 222 ]
AMOS JUDD
Airt. rf the oity. Thejr entered the g™„d.
of . weU-km,™ imtitution, were received bv
the ™perintendent «rf ,„e „ two other offi-
ctal., then, .t the reqaet of the elder vidlor
were .hown over the entire building and into
every room of «,y .i„ <„ imporbmce. When
th« inq»eti„n w« over Mr. Cabot took hi,
compudon .dde "d «ked if he hrf ««,
the room they «H.ght Amos shook hi, he«l
"d replied that no .uch ,00m could be within
the grom,d,. a few minute, Uter the young
■»« ™ .hown to . ch«nber where hi, trunk
W preceded him. The two iKend, were Jone
fi» . moment, „d „ they «p.„.,ed Am«
gave the h«rf in hi, „™ , 5^ ^^^^
«ying: "Don't think I .m wed^ening, Mr'
Cbot, but I e«mot help feeling that I have
»ee„ Molly for the hst time. And if you and
I never meet again, you may be ,u« my Ia,t
thought, were with you both."
In a cheerful tone the lawyer an^vered: «I
[ 22s ]
AMOS JUDD
shall listen to no such sentiments. If your
prophecy is correct you are to be lying in a
room outside these grounds on November
fourth. No such prophecy can be carried out
And if the prophecy is incorrect we shall meet
for several years yet So good-by, my boy. I
shall be here the third."
During ten days Amos was to remain under
the strictest watch, to be guarded by two men
at night and by two others in the day-time,
and to be permitted under no conditions to
leave that wing of the building. By the subor-
dinate in chcirge and by the four guardians he
was believed to be the victim of a suicidal
mania. As the fourth of November approached
Mr. Cabot's thoughts were less upon his busi-
ness than with his imprisoned friend. He
remembered with what inexorable force he
himself had been held to the fulfihnent of a
prediction. He had felt the hand of an un-
swerving fate; and he had not forgotten.
[ 224 ]
AMOS JUDD
But the fourth of November came and went
with no serious results, and when the five suc-
ceeding days had safely passed he experienced
• reUef which he was very careful to conceal.
With friendly hypocrisy he assumed a perfect
confidence in the result of their course, and he
was glad to see that Amos himself began to
realize that anything like a Uteral fulfilment of
his vision was now improbable.
One week later, the hist day of dunmce, the
prisoner and Mr. Cabot had an interview with
Dr. Chapin in the latter's private office. Dr.
Chapin, the physician in charge, an expert of
distinction in mental disorders, was a man
about sixty years of age, short, slight, and pale,
with small eyes, a veiy large nose, and a nar-
row, clean-shaven face. His physical peculiari-
ties were emphasized by a complete indiffer-
ence as to the shape or quality of his miment;
his coat was a consummate misfit, and his
trousers were baggy at the knees. Even the
[ 225 ]
. /
AMOS JUDD
spectacles, which also fitted badly, were never
parallel with his eyes and constantly required
an upward shove along his nose. But a profes-
sional intercourse with this gentlenuui led to a
conviction that his mental outfit bore no rela-
tion to his apparel Mr. Cabot had known him
for years, and Amos felt at once that he was in
the presence of a man of unusual insight. Dr.
Chapin spoke calmly and without pretension,
but as one careful of his speech and who knew
his facts.
"That you should have made that visit
against your will," he said to Mr. Cabot in an-
swering a question, "is not difficult to explain as
Mr. Judd unconsciously brought to bear upon
your movements a force to which he himself
has repeatedly yielded. If he happens to re-
member, I think he will find that his thoughts
were with you at that time," and he smiled
pleasantly on Amos.
"Yes, sir, but only as a matter of interest in
[ 226 ]
AMOS JUDD
the novel experience I knew Mr. Cabot was
going through."
"Certainly, bat if you had forgotten the
virit and if you believed at that moment that
he was to go in another direction, Mr. Cabot
would have followed the other thought with
equal obedience. This unconscious control of
one Intelligence over another is well established
and within certain limits can be explained, but
in these aflPairs science is compelled to accept
a barrier beyond which we can only speculate.
In this case the unusual and the most interest-
ing feature is the unvarying accuracy of your
visions. You have inherited something from
your Eastern ancestors to which a hypothesis
can be adjusted, but which is in fact beyond a
scientific explanation. I should not be at all
surprised to find somewhere in the city the
room in which you saw yourself lying; and it
is more than probable that, if unrestrained,
you would have discovered it and fulfilled your
[ 227 ]
i
I
AMOS JUDD
prophecy, unconsciously obedient to that Irre-
•isUble force. A blow, a fall, a stroke of apo-
plexy or heart disease; the sudden yielding of
your weakest part under a nervous pressure,
could easily bring about the completion of
your picture. Some of the authenticated re-
ports of corresponding cases are almost in-
credible. But before you are forty, Mr. Judd,
you will find in these visions a gradual diminu-
tion of accuracy and also, as in this case, that
their fulfilment is by no means imperative."
For Amos there was immense relief in hear-
ing this, especially from such a source, and he
left the building with a lighter heart than he
had known for months. Now that the danger
was over, he wished the wedding to take place
at once, but Molly would consent to no undig-
nified haste. He found, however, an unexpected
and influential ally in her grandmother Jouve-
nal, just arrived from her home in Maryland
for a month's visit, and who insisted upon the
[ 228 ]
AMOS JUDD
wedding Uki : place while d,e w- with them.
Mr.. Jouvenal wm • .lender per«,„ of .prightly
»«ner., whose long life h«i been sweetly
tempered by « exaggerated e.timate of the
imporUnce of her own family; but in other
matter, .he wa. rea«,nable and clear-headed,
endowed with quick perception., a ready wit,
and one of thow youthful .pirit. that never
grow old. She wa. intere.ted in all that went
on about her, wa. never bored and never dull.
It wa. of cour«j a little diwppoinUng that a
girl with .uch an ancestry a. Molly'., on her
mother-, .ide, .hould give he«elf to an un-
known Judd from an obscure New England
village; but her fondness for Amo. «x,n con-
«oled her for the m^Uiance. Molly had a
strong derire to acquaint her grandmother
with the ancestral facts of the case, but Amos
refused to give his consent Those discoveries
in the attic he insisted they mu.t keep to
thenwelve., at least while he was alive. " W n
[ 229 ]
r
■l i:
f
AMOS JUDD
I am transplanted I shall be beyond the reach
of terrestrial snobs, and you can do as you
please."
The first week in December Mrs. Jouvenal
was to visit her son in Boston. ''And really,
my child/' she said to Molly, "it is the last
wedding in the family I shall be alive to see,
and with such an exotic specimen as you have
selected, I shall not be sure of a Christian
ceremony unless I see it myself."
As her father remained neutral Molly finally
yielded, and there was a wedding the first
Wednesday in December.
1 !
[ 2S0 ]
"T^^ ^ looJ' tired and dragged out?"
LJ asked the bride of an hour as they
drove to the train.
"You look a little tired, a little flushed, a
little ashamed, and tremendously interesting.
But you may hold my hand."
"I am ashamea," and she pushed the up-
turned hand from her kp and looked out the
window.
"But, Light of my Soul, you give us away
by those imbecile blushes. You might just as
well thrust your head out of the carriage and
cry, 'Behold the bride and groom!'"
She smiled and leaned back, but stUl looked
out "That's the horrid feature of a honey-
moon. Everybody knows it and everybody
looks at you. Is it too kte to go back and
undo it?"
"What a bloodcurdling thought!"
[ 231 ]
hi tl
■
!■
AMOS JUDD
"And it should n't rain on our wedding-day,
little Amos."
"Of course it rains. These are the tears of
countless lovers who lived before the days of
Molly Cabot."
But they left the rain behind them, and
farther South, away down in Carolina, they
found plenty of sunshine, with green grass
and flowers and 'piny woods.
One of their first diversions on reaching this
southern country was to go out with a driver
and a pair of horses, but the harvest of plea-
sure was insufficient "The conversation of a
honeymoon," observed the bridegroom, "is too
exalted for other ears. If we talk as the spirit
moves us, the coachman, unless in love him-
self, may collapse from nausea: so let us be
merciful and drive ourselves."
Thereupon he secured a buggy with an old
gray horse, and from this combination their
felicity was much increased. The old horse
[ 232 J
AMOS JUDD
they called Browser, because of the only thing
he would do without being urged; and it re-
quired but a single drive to develop his good
points, which happened to be the very quali-
ties required. He was dreamy, inattentive,
never hasty, and not easily disgusted. His in-
fluence was distinctly restful, and his capacity
for ignoring a foolish conversation phenomenal.
It was decided by his present associates that
these virtues were either hereditary, or had
been developed to the highest perfection by
a long and tender experience.
"It's my opinion," remarked the gnwm,
"that being so extensively used as a nuptial
horse has resulted in his reganiing honeymoon
foolishness as the usual form of conversation.
He probably thinks they talk that way in the
courts and on the Stock Exchange."
But accustomed as Browser was to cloying
repetitions, there were times when his endur-
ance was sorely tried. On one occasion the
[ 233 ]
i
AMOS JUDD
bride alighted from the buggy, and going a
little ahead, gathered wild flowers by the road-
ride; and as she returned, Amos, who was giv-
ing Browser a handful of grass, raised his hat
in a ceremonious manner and advanced toward
her with extended hand, exclaiming:
"Why, Miss Cabot! How do you do? I had
no idea you were here. My name is Judd."
"I beg your pardon," she replied, drawing
stiffly back, "your name is not Judd, and you
don't know what it is. I can never many a
man who — "
"Wait till you are asked," he interrupted,
then threw both arms about her, and so they
stood for a moment, she making no effort to
escape.
Brovraer blushed and turned away.
In secluded comers of the vast and ramify-
ing hotel piazza they spent long evenings and
watched the moon, the other people, and the
distant ocean, and talked, and talked, and
[234]
AMOS JUDD
talked Of this talk no serious pen couJd write.
The veiy ink would laugh or turn to sugar and
nm away in shame. And when these conver-
sations were finished, two weU^ssed and
seemingly intelligent people would arise, and
with brazen faces enter the grand rotunda of
the hotel, where other guests would see them
enter the elevator, float heavenward and dis-
appear from human eyes. But the vexatious
color stiU came and went in MoUy's face, and
seemed ever ready to give the lie to the gen-
tle dignity and composure which rarely de-
serted her. Strolling through the gai^ens of
the hotel one afternoon, they met a stately
matron with her two daughters, whom Molly
knew, and as they separated after the usual
conversation, Amos jeered at the bride, saying;
"ReaUy, old Girl, it is mortifying the way you
blush upon this trip. I don't blame the blushes
for selecting such a face, but you only give
yourself away. It is merely another manner of
[ 235 J
. AMOS JUDD
saying 'I know I am guilty, and just see how
ashamed I ami'"
"Oh, don't talk about it! It's hideous, but I
can't help it Are all brides such fools?"
"I don't know, I never travelled with one
before, but I shall leave you behind if you keep
it up. Tiy and think you have been married
for twenty years. Do you suppose the daisies
giggle and tjhe sun winks at the other phmets
every time we look out the window? Or that it
is because Molly and Amos are spliced that
the carnations blush and the violets hide their
faces? But I will say this for you. Spirit of
Old-fashioned Roses, that all this blushing
and unblushing is tremendously becoming."
"Thank you; but I must paint or wear a
veil, or only come out at night. There is no
other way."
The days went by, aU much alike, in the
sunny atmosphere of an overwhelming content.
In the woods they found a distant spot which
[ 236 ]
AMOS JUDD
Uid n. cIl™ to publicity, ™d he« „p,„ ,he
P-n. o»p,t With the d»w,y ™,„i„g „f ,h^
le.»e. .b.,e, they p.«^ ^^ ^^^ j_^ ^ ^
"me indifference to the flight of time. &,„«.
ttoe. they b«™ght . b«,k, „ot . page of which
w« ever ™d, but .«. deceit w„ „ece».,y, „
th« only wit„e»e. were occ«i„„d bi«b „d
■quiml. who« idea, .f decorun. were pAni-
t. ve «d none too rtrict One birf, who seemed
f wear . dreM^^ ^u, ^ ^^ ^^^
considered hi, household in d«ger .„d J
quired « insolent habit of perching himself
upon . bough within . dozen feet, «rf doing
hfa best to sere them oiT. But .s they reap.
P"«d day after day «,d respected his right,
k« "ger gr«lually diminished, until at h.t
he ™ied hi. rituper.ti.ns by a pecnliar song,
bo* joyous and triumphant, which amused the
interlopers.
"I should like to know what his little feel-
mgs really are," said the bride, as with a pine-
[ 237 ]
AMOS JUDD
needle she annoyed the sensitive portions of
the head reposing in her Up. The uptiuned
eyes lingered for a mmnent upon the patch of
blue between the pine-tops, then with a look
of mild surprise turned lasily to her own.
"Do you really mean to confess. Gentle
Roses, that you don't know what he says?"
As this speech was uttered the instrument
of torture was cleverly inserted between the
parted lips. "No; and perhaps I don't care to."
"But listen. There! Don't you get it? He
knows we are on a honeymoon and keeps re-
peating, in that victorious way:
"Amos has got her I
Amos has got herT
The bride laughed; her face bent over to
the one beneath, but the bird upon the bough
was not disgusted. He stood his ground and
sang his song as if Love and Folly were things
to be respected.
[ 238 ]
AMOS JUDD
l"»ck. with «,™w „p„„ , r«Ung.pl.ce
:'"" ""' «-» "»r knew „ ,.' ' J
tr-in n«,ved .w.y d.. whi.pe«,, ..g.^.^^
noneymoon!"
"«<».•» „y tut," excised An... ..I^eu,
"o'donU.itfo^ver.I.Mdie.Wer.ndl
expect the same of you."
rk. j,r«a^ ^ Godmother J„„ve™j w«
-ot&^tteo.™,. when the„.ft the t^inat
• attle «.tio„ to M«yu„d . cartage w„
T"* "■*»• ^ a^y ente^d the .venue
«.d«»me in sight <rf the old h<««, Molly.,.
8«<Jed he, oon.p.Mo„ with eager eye, to be
•»» th.t he w« p„periy i„p,^^
"If, iine!" he exclaimed. "An ideal „..„.
r*';?^'"'"^^'^y'-«y"i. over two
Hundred years old?"
f 239 ]
AMOS JUDD
'*Yes, the main house is, but just wait till
you see the inside! It's crammed fiill of colo-
nial furniture and family portraits."
"What on earth is the circular part at the
end of that wing? Is it a circus or only a gym-
nasium for your grandmother?"
Molly laughed. ''That's the library. Grand-
pa's fadier was an astronomer and started to
build an observatory, but died when it was
half-way up; so grandpa, who was not an as-
tronomer, finished it as a library. But it makes
a beautiful room."
From her grandmother they received a cor-
dial welcome. It was dark when they wrived,
and as Mrs. Jouvenal had accepted for them
an invitation to a dance that evening at the
house of a neighbor, whose daughters were old
playmates of Molly's, there was little time for
seeing the house. But Molly did not like to
wait and proposed a hasty tour, wishing to
show Amos at once the old portraits and fur-
[ 240 ]
AMOS JUDD
T: "■' "" "^"^ •' '^y -"ver. To
""• ''" ««-*»<>«»' obj«,«l ..ft, .^^
•"-moiTow. chili Your Amo. ~» i
yet R.„.„be, I only «„,» fc^
"-'»», .fter. two „o„th...fc„ J/"''
"nved «,ly .t the UU, «d „ ^. .„ J
"Of course I wa Only n«m. „ j ,
^-.«<..hU™eW«H.«.yl.e,„^^J
by«ycn.pltaentnponl,i,.ppe.^.
A« you vcy „„eh .ttached to tht c«.
cent in your hair?"
-If I were it d.ould n„ke „. ^
Voud„„-tlikeit..ndth.t..enou«V«d.he
[S« J
;ll
AMOS JUDD
nised her hand to remove the ornament. But
he interrupted the motion. "Don't take it off
noWf for you have nothing to repUce it; but
that it the smallest part of tlie request. The
real favor is that you shall not ask me why I
do it."
"That is asking a good deal, but I consent.
And now tell ine, how do I look? There is a
wretched light in there."
"You look like what you are, the joy of
to-day and the rainbow of a happy morrow."
"No, be serious. Is my hair in every direc-
tion?"
He regarded her gravely and with care.
"Your hair is just right, and for general effect
you are far and away the prettiest, the dain-
tiest, the most highbred-looking girl within a
thousand miles of this or of any other spot;
and if we were alone and unobserved, I should
gather you in as — " Voices close at hand
caused them to turn and descend the stairs
[ 242 ]
AMOS JUDD
with the ^etnnity of «, .„dent couple who
find dignity • w,tftU aubrtitute for ihc frivoll-
ties of youth. Once In the bal1-r.K, ., with U.e
wild Hungarian muric «t their f.e< k, there « u,
litUe repow; for two «,ch d uu-. n. \Vh. ., fh.
first notes of the walti thaf Moll- iou I v...
•II others, came floating Uucm^I. Cu- hall,
Amoi cut in before a youth who was )^h.U uj?
toward the bride and swung her out .cros. the
floor. A. they ghded away with the music that
was stirring in her heart old memories of what
•eemed a previous existence, she heard at her
ear «Do you remember when first we waltaed?
How you did snub me! But life began that
night"
Instead of returning at eleven o'clock, they
returned at two in the morning. By Amos's
request it had been arranged that no servant
should sit up for them, but when they entered
the hall and found it dark Molly expressed
surprise that not a single light should have
[ 243 ]
AMOS JUDD
been left burning. They easUy found the
matches, however, and lighted a candle. Amos
had just learned from the coachman that a let-
ter ready at six in the morning would go by
an early train, so Molly showed him a little
desk of her grandmother's in the dining-room,
and then left him to his writing. Passing
through the hall toward the stairs she hap-
pened to look into a sitting-room, and beyond
it, through a corridor, saw a portion of the big
library where the moonlight fell upon a marble
bust She paused, then returning to the door
of the dining-room, asked,
"How long shall you be at that letter, little
prince?"
"Not five minutes."
"Then come into the library and see it in
the moonlight You will find a giri there who
is interested in you."
"All right. That giri will not wait long."
Alt'nough familiar with the old library,
[ 244 ]
AMOS JUDD
MoUy was impressed anew by its sUtely p«,.
portions as she entered from the httle corridor.
The spacious room was now flooded by the
moonlight that streamed through the high
windows at the farther end and brought out,
in ghostly relief, the white Ionic columns'
•gainst the encircling wall. Between them, m
vaiying shapes and sizes, hung the family por-
traits, and in front of ever,r column stood a
pedestal with its marble bust At the present
moment the pallid face of Dante caught the
moonbeams, and seemed to follow her with
solemn eyes. As she swept with a rustle of silk
along the huge, round, crimson carpet, she re-
membered how deeply she had been impressed
in former years by the knowledge that it was
made in England expressly for this nK>m. The
perfect stillness was broken only by herself as
she moved out into the wide circle of mysteri-
ous faces.
At her right, between two of the columns,
[245]
AMOS JUDD
in a lofty mirror that filled the space from floor
to cornice, marched her own reflection. She
stopped, and regarded it With her white dress
and the moonlight upon her head and shoul-
ders, it was a striking figure and recalled the
night, a year ago, when she stood at the win-
dow of her chamber, and tried in vain to dis-
cover why such a vision should have startled
Mr. Amos Judd. Mr. Amos Judd! How she
hated him that night! Hated him! the dear,
lovely, old, perfect Amos! She smiled, and
beat time with a foot, humming a fragment of
that bewitching waltz. And the crescent that
he had asked her not to wear again, flashed
back at her from the mirror. She would remove
it now, upon the instant, and never more, not
even to-night, should the dear boy be troubled
by it As her fingers touched the jewels she
saw something in the mirror that sent the
blood from her heart, and caused the hand to
drop convulsively to her breast Behind her,
[ 246 ]
AMOS JUDD
•cross the room, in the shadow of a pedestal,
were glistening two other things that moved
like . pair of human eyes. With an involuntary
«y she wheeled about, and before she could
turn again at a sudden movement behind her,
*n arm was thrown about her waist, strong
fingers clutched her throat and in her ear came
a muttered warning: «Be quiet, lady, or it's
up with yer!"
But the cry had reached Amos in the dis-
tant dining-room, and she heard his footsteps
hurrying across the hall. The fingers tightened
at her throat; she was pushed with violence
into the shadow of the nearest column, and
held there. Gasping, stranghng, she seized in-
stinctively with both hands the wrist that was
squeezing the life from her body, but her
feeble fingers against such a strength were as
nothing. Pressing close upon her she saw the
dim outline of a cap upon tne back of a head,
a big neck, and a heavy chin. With bursting
[247 J
AMOS JUDD
throbs the blood beat through her head and
eyes, and she would have sunk to the floor but
for the hands that held her with an iron force.
In this torture of suffocation came a blur,
but through it she saw Amos spring into the
room, then stop for a second as if to find his
bearings.
"Moll," he said, in a half-whisper.
There was no answer. Fainting, powerless
even to make an effort, she saw the man be-
fore her raise a revolver with his other hand,
and take deliberate aim at the broad, white
shirt-front, an easy target in the surrounding
gloom. In an agony of despair she made a
frenzied effort, struck up the weapon as the
shot was fired, and sent the bullet high above
its mark, through the waistcoat of a colonial
governor.
The next instant the fingers were torn from
her throat, and as she sank half-fainting to
her knees, the two men in a savage tussle
[248]
AMOS JUDD
swayed out into the room, then back with such
force agahist a pedestal that it tottered, and
with its heavy bust came crashing to the floor.
The struggling figures also fell. The burglar
was beneath, and as he landed, his wea|)on
was knocked from his hand. With a blow and
a sudden twist Amos wrenched away, picked
up the pistol, turned upon his swiftly rising
foe, and sent a bullet through his skull. With-
out a sound the man sank back again to the
floor.
"Are you hurt, Moll?" was the first ques-
tion as Amos took a step toward the white,
crouching figure. Her bare arm shot out into
the moonlight and a finger pointed across the
library. "There 's another! look out!"
The second man, m his stocking feet like
his comrade, had crept from his hiding place,
and as she pointed he swung up his pistol and
pulled the trigger. But Amos was quicker.
Shots in rapid succession echoed through the
[ 249 J
AMOS JUDD
house, two, three, perhaps half « do«jn, she
never knew; but she saw to her joy, that Amos
at the end of it aU was still standing, while
the burglar, with a smothered malediction,
tumbled heavily into an easy chair behind him,
slid out of it to his knees, and pitched forward
on his face. There was a convulsive twitching
of the legs, and aU was stiU again. Beneath
him lay a bag into which, a few moments be-
fore, had beea stuffed the ancestral silver.
As she climbed painfully to her feet, grasp-
ing with tremulous fingers a chair at her side,
she saw Amos turn about, and with wavering
steps, approach the column between the win-
dows where, in the full light of the moon,
hung a little calendar, and on it
Nov.
4
He uttered no sound, but his head drooped
and he staggered back. Reeling against a low
divan he feU his length upon it, and lay with
[ 250 ]
t'f
AMOS JUDD
upturned face, motionless as the two men upon
• the floor.
MoUy hastened to his side and bent over
him with an anxious question. In the full nys
of the moon her head and neck with the white
dress were almost luminous against the dim
recesses of the room behind; and his eyes
rested with a da«ed, half-frightened look on
the diamond crescent, then fell to her face,
and up again to the jewels in her hair. With
an effort he laid a hand upon her shoulder and
answered, with a feeble smile, "The end has
come, my Moll."
"No, no. Don't say that! I '11 send for the
doctor and have him here at once!"
But the hand restrained her. "It's of no use.
The ball went here, through the chest."
"But, darling, your life may depend upon
it! You don't know."
"Yes— I do know. My own death, with you
bending over me in the moonlight— in this
[ 251 ]
AMOS JUDD
room— I saw before we ever met The same
vision again— when you stood before me in
the conservatory, was what- startled me-
that night, a year aga"
He spoke with difficulty, in a failing tone.
There followed broken words; from the face
against his own tears fell upon his cheek, and
she murmured, "Take me with you, Amos."
«No-not that;" then slowly, in a voice
growing fainter with each won!, "but there is
no Heaven without you, Spirit-of Old-fash-
ioned-Roses."
A genUe pressure from the fingers that held
her own, and in the moonlight lay a peaceful
face where a snule stiU lingered on the lips.
D. B. Updike, The MerrymouHt Preu, Boston