An Unexpected 
 
 New York 
 Dodd, Mead and Company 
 
Copyright, 1883, 1889, 1892, by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 
 
f 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 " JACK, she played with me deliberately, 
 heartlessly. I can never forgive her." 
 
 " In that case, Will, I congratulate you. 
 Such a girl isn t worth a second thought, and 
 you ve made a happy escape." 
 
 " No congratulations, if you please. You 
 can talk coolly, because in regard to such 
 matters you are cool, and, I may add, a trifle 
 cold. Ambition is your mistress, and a musty 
 law book has more attractions for you than 
 any woman living. I m not so tempered. I 
 am subject to the general law of nature, and a 
 woman s love and sympathy are essential to 
 success in my life and work." 
 
 "That s all right, but there are . as good 
 
 fish ~ M150477 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 Oh, Mve done with your trite nonsense, * 
 interrupted Will Munson impatiently. " I d 
 consult you on a point of law in preference to 
 most of the graybeards, but I was a fool to 
 speak of this affair. And yet as my most inti 
 mate friend 
 
 " Come, Will, I m not unfeeling," and John 
 Ackland rose and put his hand on his friend s 
 shoulder. " I admit that the subject is remote 
 from my line of thought and wholly beyond 
 my experience. If the affair is so serious I 
 shall take it to heart." 
 
 " Serious ! Is it a slight thing to be crip 
 pled for life ? " 
 
 " Oh, come now," said Ackland, giving his 
 friend a hearty and encouraging thump, " you 
 are sound in mind and limb ; what matters a 
 scratch on the heart to a man not twenty- 
 five ?" 
 
 Very well ; I ll say no more about it. 
 When I need a lawyer I ll come to you. 
 Good-by ; I sail for Brazil in the morning." 
 
 14 Will, sit down and look me in the eyes," 
 said Ackland decisively. Will, forgive me. 
 You are in trouble. A man s eyes usually tell 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 9 
 
 me more than all his words, and I don t like 
 the expression of yours. There is yellow fever 
 in Brazil." 
 
 44 I know it," was the careless reply. 
 
 44 What excuse have you for going ? " 
 
 " Business complications have arisen there, 
 and I promptly volunteered to go. My em 
 ployers were kind enough to hesitate and warn 
 me, and to say that they could send a man less 
 valuable to them, but I soon overcame their 
 objections." 
 
 " That is your excuse for going. The reason 
 I see in your eyes. You are reckless, Will." 
 
 14 I have reason to be." 
 
 44 I can t agree with you, but I feel for you 
 all the same. Tell me all about it, for this is 
 sad news to me. I hoped to have joined you 
 on the beach in a few days, and to have spent 
 August with you and my cousin. I confess 1 
 am beginning to feel exceedingly vindictive 
 toward this pretty little monster, and if any 
 harm comes to you I shall be savage enough to 
 scalp her." 
 
 * 4 The harm has come already, Jack. I m 
 hit hard. She showed me a mirage of happi- 
 
10 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 ness that has made my present world a desert, 
 I am reckless I m desperate. You may 
 think it is weak and unmanly, but you don t 
 know anything about it. Time or the fever 
 may cure me, but now I am bankrupt in all 
 that gives value to life. A woman with an 
 art so consummate that it seemed artless, de 
 liberately evoked the best there was in me, 
 then threw it away as indifferently as a cast-off 
 glove. 
 
 Tell me how it came about." 
 11 How can I tell you ? How can I in cold- 
 blood recall glances, words, intonations, the 
 pressure of a hand that seemed alive with re 
 ciprocal feeling ? In addition to her beauty she 
 had the irresistible charm of fascination. I 
 was wary at first, but she angled for me with a 
 skill that would have disarmed any man who 
 did not believe in the inherent falseness of 
 woman. The children in the house idolized 
 her, and I have great faith in a child s intui 
 tions." 
 
 44 Oh, that was only a part of her guile," said 
 Ackland frowningly. 
 
 Probably ; at any rate she has taken all 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT, II 
 
 the color and zest out of my life. I wish some 
 one could pay her back in her own coin. I 
 don t suppose she has a heart, but I wish her 
 vanity might be wounded in a way that would 
 teach her a lesson never to be forgotten." 
 
 4 It certainly would be a well-deserved retri 
 bution," said Ackland musingly. 
 
 Jack, you are the one, of all the world, to 
 administer the punishment. I don t believe a 
 woman s smiles ever quickened your pulse one 
 beat." 
 
 " You are right, Will, it is my cold-blooded 
 ness to put your thought in plain English 
 that will prove your best ally. 
 
 41 I only hope that I am not leading you 
 into danger. You will need an Indian s 
 stoicism." 
 
 " Bah ! I may fail ignominiously, and find 
 her vanity invulnerable, but I pledge you my 
 word that I will avenge you if it be within the 
 compass of my skill. My cousin, Mrs. Alston, 
 may prove a useful ally. I think you wrote 
 me that the name of this siren was Eva Van 
 Tyne?" 
 
 " Yes ; I only wish she had the rudiments 
 
12 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT, 
 
 of a heart, so that she might feel, in a faint, 
 far off way, a little of the pain she has inflicted 
 on me. Don t let her make you falter or grow 
 remorseful, Jack. Remember that you have 
 given a pledge to one who may be dead before 
 you can fulfil it." 
 
 Ackland said farewell to his friend with the 
 fear that he might never see him again, and a 
 few days later found himself at a New England 
 seaside resort, with a relentless purpose lurking 
 in his dark eyes. Mrs. Alston did uncon 
 sciously prove a useful ally, for her wealth and 
 elegance gave her unusual prestige in the 
 house, and in joining her party Ackland 
 achieved immediately all the social recogni 
 tion he desired. 
 
 While strolling with this lady on the piazza 
 he observed the object of his quest, and was at 
 once compelled to make more allowance than 
 he had done hitherto for his friend s discomfit 
 ure. Two or three children were leaning over 
 the young girl s chair, and she was amusing 
 them by some clever caricatures. She was not 
 so interested, however, but that she soon noted 
 the new comer, and bestowed upon him from 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 13 
 
 time to time curious and furtive glances. That 
 these were not returned seemed to occasion 
 her some surprise, for she was not accustomed 
 to be so utterly ignored, even by a stranger. 
 A little later Ackland saw her consulting the 
 hotel register. 
 
 11 I have at least awakened her curiosity," he 
 thought. 
 
 " I ve been waiting for you to ask me who 
 that pretty girl was," said Mrs. Alston, laugh 
 ing ; "you do indeed exceed all men in in 
 difference toward our sex." 
 
 tl I know all about that girl," was the grim 
 reply. "She has played the very deuce with 
 my friend Munson." 
 
 Yes," replied Mrs. Alston indignantly, 
 " it was the most shameful piece of coquetry I 
 ever saw. She is a puzzle to me. To the 
 children and the old people in the house she 
 is consideration and kindness itself, but she 
 appears to regard men of your years as legiti 
 mate game and is perfectly remorseless. So 
 beware. She is dangerous, invulnerable as you 
 imagine yourself to be. She will practise her 
 wiles upon you if you give her half a chance. 
 
14 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 and her art has much more than her pretty 
 face to enforce it. She is unusually clever. 
 
 Ackland s slight shrug was so contemptuous 
 that his cousin was nettled, and she thought, 
 * I wish the girl could disturb his complacent 
 equanimity just a little ; it vexes one to see a 
 man so indifferent ; it s a slight to our sex," 
 and she determined to give Miss Van Tyne the 
 vantage-ground of an introduction at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 And this occurred before the evening was 
 over. To her surprise Ackland entered into 
 an extended conversation with the enemy. 
 4 Well, "she thought, "if he begins in this 
 style there will soon be another victim. Miss 
 Van Tyne can talk to as bright a man as he is 
 and hold her own. Meanwhile she will assail 
 him in a hundred covert ways. Out of regard 
 for his friend he should have shown some dis 
 approval of her, but there he sits quietly talk 
 ing in the publicity of the parlor." 
 
 " Mrs. Alston," said a friend at her elbow, 
 " you ought to forewarn your cousin and tell 
 him of Mr. Munson s fate." 
 
 44 He knows all about Mr. Munson," was 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 15 
 
 her reply. " Indeed, the latter is his most in 
 timate friend. I suppose my cousin is indulg 
 ing in a little natural curiosity concerning this 
 destroyer of masculine peace, and if ever a man 
 could do so in safety he can." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 Well, I never knew so unsusceptible a man. 
 With the exception of a few of his relatives, he 
 has never cared for ladies society." 
 
 Mrs. Alston was far astray in supposing that 
 curiosity was Ackland s motive in his rather 
 prolonged conversation with Miss Van Tyne. 
 It was simply a part of his tactics, for he pro 
 posed to waste no time in skirmishing or in 
 guarded and gradual approaches. He would 
 cross weapons at once, and secure his object by 
 a sharp and aggressive campaign. His object 
 was to obtain immediately some idea of the 
 calibre of the girl s mind, and in this respect 
 he was agreeably surprised, for while giving 
 little evidence of thorough education, she was 
 unusually intelligent and exceedingly quick in 
 her perceptions. He soon learned also that 
 she was gifted with more than woman s cus 
 tomary intuition, that she was watching his 
 
1 6 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 face closely for meanings that he might not 
 choose to express in words or else to conceal 
 by his language. While he feared that his 
 task would be far more difficult than he ex 
 pected, and that he would have to be extreme 
 ly guarded in order not to reveal his design, he 
 was glad to learn that the foe was worthy of 
 his steel. Meanwhile her ability and self- 
 reliance banished all compunction. He had 
 no scruples in humbling the pride of a woman 
 who was at once so proud, so heartless, and so 
 clever. Nor would the effort be wearisome, 
 for she had proved herself both amusing and 
 interesting. He might enjoy it quite as much 
 as an intricate law case. 
 
 Even prejudiced Ackland, as he saw her oc 
 casionally on the following day, was compelled 
 to admit that she was more than pretty. Her 
 features were neither regular nor faultless. Her 
 mouth was too large to be perfect and her 
 nose was not Grecian, but her eyes were pecul 
 iarly fine and illumined her face, whose chief 
 charm lay in its power of expression. If she 
 chose, almost all her thoughts and feelings 
 could find their reflex there. The trouble was 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. ij 
 
 that she could as readily mask her thought and 
 express what she did not feel. Her eyes were 
 of the darkest blue and her hair seemed light in 
 contrast. It was evident that she had studied 
 grace so thoroughly that her manner and car 
 riage appeared unstudied and natural. She 
 never seemed self-conscious, and yet no one had 
 ever seen her in an ungainly posture or had 
 known her to make an awkward gesture. This 
 grace, however, like a finished style in writing, 
 was tinged so strongly with her own individ 
 uality that it appeared original as compared 
 with the fashionable monotony which charac 
 terized the manners of so many of her age. 
 She could not have been much more than 
 twenty, and yet, as Mrs. Alston took pains 
 to inform her cousin, she had long been in 
 ; , society, adding, "It s homage is her breath 
 of life, and from all I hear your friend Munson 
 has had many predecessors. Be on your 
 guard." 
 
 " Your solicitude in my behalf is quite 
 touching," he replied. "Who is this fair 
 buccaneer that has made so many wrecks and 
 exacts so heavy a revenue from society ? Who 
 
1 8 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 has the care of her and what are her antece 
 dents?" 
 
 " She is an orphan and possessed, I am told, 
 of considerable property in her own name. A 
 forceless, nerveless maiden aunt is about the 
 only antecedent we see much of. Her guar 
 dian has been here once or twice, but practically 
 she is independent." 
 
 Miss Van Tyne s efforts to learn something 
 concerning Ackland were apparently quite as 
 casual and indifferent and yet were made with 
 utmost skill. She knew that Mrs. Alston s 
 friend was something of a gossip, and she led 
 her to speak of the subject of her thoughts 
 with an indirect finesse that would have amused 
 the young man exceedingly could he have been 
 an unobserved witness. When she learned 
 that he was Mr. Munson s intimate friend and 
 that he was aware of her treatment of the 
 latter, she was somewhat disconcerted. One so 
 forewarned might not become an easy prey. 
 But the additional fact that he was almost a 
 woman-hater put her upon her mettle at once, 
 and she felt that here was a chance for a con 
 quest such as she had never made before. She 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 19 
 
 now believed that she had discovered the key 
 to his indifference. He was ready enough to 
 amuse himself with her as a clever woman, but 
 knew her too well to bestow upon her even a 
 friendly thought. 
 
 " If I can bring him to my feet it will be a 
 triumph indeed," she murmured exultantly, 
 11 and at my feet he shall be if he gives me 
 half a chance." Seemingly he gave her every 
 chance that she could desire, and while he 
 scarcely made any effort to seek her society, 
 she noted with secret satisfaction that he often 
 appeared as if accidentally near her, and that 
 he ever made it the easiest and most natural 
 thing in the world for her to join him. His 
 conversation was often as gay and unconven 
 tional as she could wish, but she seldom failed 
 to detect in it an uncomfortable element of 
 satire and irony. He always left her dissatis 
 fied with herself and with a depressing con 
 sciousness that she had made no impression 
 upon him. 
 
 His conquest grew into an absorbing desire, 
 and she unobtrusively brought to bear upon 
 him every art and fascination that she possess- 
 
20 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 ed. Her toilets were as exquisite as they 
 were simple. The children were made to idol 
 ize her more than ever, but Ackland was can 
 did enough to admit that this was not all guile 
 on her part, for she was evidently in sympathy 
 with the little people, who can rarely be im 
 posed upon by any amount of false interest. 
 Indeed, he saw no reason to doubt that she 
 abounded in good-nature toward all except the 
 natural objects of her ruling passion ; but the 
 very skill and deliberateness with which she 
 sought to gratify this passion greatly increased 
 his vindictive feeling. He saw how naturally 
 and completely his friend had been deceived 
 and how exquisite must have been the hopes 
 and anticipations so falsely raised. Therefore 
 he smiled more grimly at the close of each suc 
 ceeding day, and was fully bent upon the ac 
 complishment of his purpose. 
 
 At length Miss Van Tyne changed her tac 
 tics and grew quite oblivious to Ackland s pres 
 ence in the house, but she found him appar 
 ently too indifferent to observe the fact. She 
 then permitted one of her several admirers to 
 become devoted ; Ackland did not offer the 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 21 
 
 protest of even a glance. He stood, as it were, 
 just where she had left him, ready for an occa 
 sional chat, stroll or excursion, if the affair 
 came about naturally and without much effort 
 on his part. She found that she could not in 
 duce him to seek her or annoy him by an in 
 difference which she meant should be more 
 marked than his own. 
 
 Some little time after there came a windy day, 
 and the surf was so heavy that there were but 
 few bathers. Ackland was a good swimmer, 
 and took his plunge as usual. He was leaving 
 the water when Miss Van Tyne ran down the 
 beach and was about to dart through the 
 breakers in her wonted fearless style. 
 
 " Be careful," he said to her ; " the under 
 tow is strong, and the man who has charge of 
 the bathing is ill and not here. The tide is 
 changing in fact, running out already I 
 believe. But she would not even look at him, 
 much less answer. As there were other gen 
 tlemen present he started for his bath-house, 
 but had proceeded but a little way up the 
 beach before a cry brought him to the water s 
 edge instantly. 
 
22 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 " Something is wrong with Miss Van Tyne," 
 cried half a dozen voices. " She ventured out 
 recklessly, and it seems as if she couldn t get 
 back." 
 
 At that moment her form rose on the crest 
 of a wave, and above the thunder of the surf 
 came her faint cry, " Help !" 
 
 The other bathers stood irresolute, for she 
 was dangerously far out, and the tide had evi 
 dently turned. Ackland, on the contrary, 
 dashed through the breakers and then, in his 
 efforts for speed, dove through the waves near 
 est to the shore. When he reached the place 
 where he expected to find her he saw nothing 
 for a moment or two but great crested billows 
 that every moment were increasing in height 
 under the rising wind. For a moment he fear 
 ed that she had perished, and the thought that 
 the beautiful creature had met her death so 
 suddenly and awfully made him almost sick 
 and faint. An instant later, however, a wave 
 threw her up from the trough of the sea into 
 full vision somewhat on his right, and a few 
 strong strokes brought him to her side. 
 
 " Oh, save me !" she gasped. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 23 
 
 " Don t cling to me," he said sternly. 
 " Do as I bid you. Strike out for the shore 
 if you are able ; if not, lie on your back and 
 float." 
 
 She did the latter, for now that aid had 
 reached her she apparently recovered from her 
 panic and was perfectly tractable. He placed 
 his left hand under her and struck out quietly, 
 aware that the least excitement causing ex 
 haustion on his part might cost both of them 
 their lives. 
 
 As they approached the shore a rope was 
 thrown to them, and Ackland, who felt his 
 strength giving way, seized it desperately. He 
 passed his arm around his companion with a 
 grasp that almost made her breathless, and 
 they were dragged, half suffocated, through 
 the water until strong hands on either side 
 rushed them through the breakers. 
 
 Miss Van Tyne for a moment or two stood 
 dazed and panting, then disengaged herself 
 from the rather warm support of the devoted 
 admirer whom she had tried to play against 
 Ackland, and tried to walk, but after a few 
 uncertain steps fell senseless on the sand, thus 
 
24 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 for the moment drawing to herself the atten 
 tion of the increasing throng. Ackland, glad 
 to escape notice, was staggering off to his 
 bath-house when several ladies, more mindful 
 of his part in the affair than the men had been, 
 overtook him with a fire of questions and 
 plaudits. 
 
 " Please leave me alone," he said, almost 
 savagely, without looking around. 
 
 "What a bear he is!" they chorused. 
 " Any one else would have been a little com 
 placent over such an exploit." And they fol 
 lowed the unconscious girl who was now being 
 carried to the hotel. 
 
 Ackland locked the door of his little apart 
 ment and sank panting on the bench. " Male 
 dictions on her!" he muttered. "At one 
 time there was a better chance of her being 
 fatal to me than to Munson with his yellow- 
 fever tragedy in prospect. Her recklessness 
 to-day was perfectly insane. If she tries it 
 again she may drown for all that I care, or at 
 least ought to care." 
 
 His anger appeared to act like a tonic, and 
 he was soon ready to return to the house. A 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 25 
 
 dozen sprang forward to congratulate him, but 
 they found such impatience and annoyance at 
 all reference to the affair that with many sur 
 mises the topic was dropped. 
 
 "You are a queer fellow," remarked his 
 privileged cousin, as he took her out to dinner. 
 "Why don t you let people speak naturally 
 about the matter, or rather why don t you pose 
 as the hero of the occasion ?" 
 
 " Because the whole affair was most unnat 
 ural and I am deeply incensed. In a case of 
 necessity I am ready to risk my life, although 
 it has unusual attractions forme, but I m no 
 melodramatic hero looking for adventures. 
 What necessity was there in this case ? It is 
 the old story of Munson over again in another 
 guise. The act was that of an inconsiderate, 
 heartless woman who follows her impulses and 
 inclinations no matter what may be the conse 
 quences. " After a moment he added, less in 
 dignantly, " I must give her credit for one thing, 
 angry as I am she behaved well in the water, 
 otherwise she would have drowned me." 
 
 "She is not a fool. Most women would 
 have drowned you." 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 " She is indeed not a fool ; therefore she s 
 the more to blame. If she is ever so reckless 
 again may I be asleep in my room. Of course 
 one can t stand by and see a woman drown, no 
 matter who or what she is." 
 
 "Jack, what made her so reckless?" Mrs. 
 Alston asked, with a sudden intelligence light- 
 ing up her face. 
 
 " Hang it all \ How should I know ? What 
 made her torture Munson ? She follows her 
 impulses, and they are not always conducive 
 to any one s well-being, not even her own." 
 
 " Mark my words, she has never shown this 
 kind of recklessness before." 
 
 "Oh yes, she has. She was running her 
 horse to death the other hot morning and 
 nearly trampled on a child ;" and he told of an 
 unexpected encounter while he was taking a 
 rather extended ramble. 
 
 Well," exclaimed Mrs. Alston, smiling 
 significantly, " I think I understand her symp 
 toms better than you do. If you are as cold 
 blooded as you seem I may have to interfere." 
 " O bah !" he answered impatiently. " Par 
 don me, but I should despise myself forever 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 27 
 
 should I become sentimental, knowing what I 
 do." 
 
 "Jack, had you no compunctions when 
 fearing that such a beautiful girl might perish ? 
 We -are going to have an awful night. Hear the 
 wind whistle and moan, and the sky is already 
 black with clouds. The roar of the surf grows 
 louder every hour. Think of that lovely form 
 being out in those black, angry waves, darted 
 at and preyed upon by horrible slimy monsters. 
 Oh, it fairly makes my flesh creep !" 
 
 " And mine, too," he said, with a strong 
 gesture of disgust ; " especially when I re 
 member that I should have kept her company, 
 for of course I could not return without her. 
 I confess that when at first I could not find her 
 I was fairly sick at the thought of her fate. 
 But remember how uncalled for it all was 
 quite as much so as that poor Will Munson is 
 on his way to die with the yellow fever like 
 enough." 
 
 " Jack," said his cousin, affectionately, lay 
 ing her hand on his arm, " blessings on your 
 courage to-day. If what might have happened 
 so easily had occurred, I could never have 
 
28 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 looked upon the sea again without a shudder. 
 I should have been tormented by a horrible 
 memory all my life. It was brave and 
 noble " 
 
 "Oh, hush!" he said angrily. "I won t 
 hear another word about it even from you. 
 I m not brave and noble. I went because I 
 was compelled to go ; I hated to go ; I hate 
 the girl, and have more reason now than ever. 
 If we had both drowned, no doubt there would 
 have been less trouble in the world. There 
 would have deen one lawyer the less, and ? 
 coquette extinguished. Now we shall both 
 prey on society in our different ways indefi 
 nitely." 
 
 4 Jack, you are in an awful mood to 
 day. " 
 
 " I am never was in a worse." 
 
 " Having so narrowly escaped death you 
 ought to be subdued and grateful." 
 
 44 On the contrary, I m inclined to profanity. 
 Excuse me don t wish any dessert. I ll try a 
 walk and a cigar. You will now be glad to be 
 rid of me on any terms." 
 
 54 Stay, Jack. See, Miss Van Tyne has so 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 29 
 
 far recovered as to come down. She looked 
 unutterable things toward you as she en 
 tered." 
 
 " Of course she did. Very few of her 
 thoughts concerning me or other young men 
 would sound well if uttered. Tell your friends 
 to let this topic alone, or I shall be rude to 
 them," and without a glance toward the girl 
 he had rescued he left the dining-room. 
 
 o 
 
 4 Well, well," murmured Mrs. Alston, "I 
 never saw Jack in such a mood before. It is 
 quite as unaccountable as Miss Van Tyne s 
 recklessness. I wonder what is the matter 
 with him." 
 
 Ackland was speedily driven back from his 
 walk by the rain, which fact he did not regret, for 
 he found himself exhausted and depressed. 
 Seeking a retired piazza in order to be alone, 
 he sat down with his hat drawn over his eyes 
 and smoked furiously. Before very long, how 
 ever, he was startled out of a painful reverie 
 by a timid voice saying : 
 
 11 Mr. Ackland, won t you permit me to 
 thank you ?" 
 
 He rose, and Miss Van Tyne stood before 
 
30 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT 
 
 him with outstretched hand. He did not 
 notice it, but bowing coldly, said : 
 
 " Please consider that you have thanked me 
 and let the subject drop." 
 
 " Do not be so harsh with me," she plead 
 ed. "I cannot help it if you are. Mr. Ack- 
 land, you saved my life." 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " And possibly you think that it is scarcely 
 worth saving." 
 
 "Possibly your own conscience suggested 
 that thought to you." 
 
 "You are heartless," she burst out indig 
 nantly. 
 
 He began to laugh. " That s a droll charge 
 for you to make," he said. 
 
 She looked at him steadfastly for a moment, 
 and then murmured: "You are thinking of 
 your friend Mr. Munson." 
 
 " That would be quite natural. How many 
 more can you think of?" 
 
 " You are indeed unrelenting," she faltered, 
 tears coming into her eyes; "but I cannot 
 forget that but for you I should now be out 
 there" and she indicated the sea by a gest 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 31 
 
 ure, then covered her face with her hands and 
 shuddered. 
 
 " Do not feel under obligations. I should 
 have been compelled to do as much for any 
 human being. You seem to forget that I stood 
 an even chance of being out there with you, 
 and that there was no more need of the risk 
 than there was that my best friend s life should 
 be blight" 
 
 You you out there ?" she cried, spring 
 ing toward him and pointing to the sea. 
 
 " Certainly. You cannot suppose that, hav 
 ing once found you, I could come ashore with 
 out you. As it was my strength was rapidly 
 giving way, and were it not for the rope 
 
 " Oh, forgive me," she cried, passionately 
 seizing his hand in spite of him. "It never 
 entered my mind that you could drown. I 
 somehow felt that nothing could harm you. I 
 was reckless I didn t know what I was doine 
 
 c> 
 
 I don t understand myself any more. Please 
 please forgive me, or I shall not sleep to 
 night." 
 
 "Certainly," he said lightly, "if you will 
 not refer to our little episode again." 
 
32 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 ft Please don t speak in that way," she sigh 
 ed, turning away. 
 
 " I have complied with your request." 
 
 " I suppose I must be content," she resum- 
 ed sadly. Then turning her head slowly tow 
 ard him she added, hesitatingly, " Will you 
 forgive me for, for treating your friend 
 
 " No," he replied, with such stern emphasis 
 that she shrank from him and trembled. 
 
 * You are indeed heartless," she faltered, as 
 she turned to leave him. 
 
 " Miss Van Tyne," he said indignantly, 
 " twice you have charged me with being heart 
 less. Your voice and manner indicate that I 
 would be unnatural and unworthy of respect 
 were I what you charge. In the name of all 
 that s rational what does this word heartless 
 mean to you ? Where was your heart when 
 you sent my friend away so wretched and hum 
 bled that he is virtually seeking the death from 
 which you are so glad to escape ?" 
 
 " I did not love him," she protested faintly. 
 
 He laughed bitterly, and continued : " Love ! 
 That s a word which I believe has no meaning 
 for you at all, but it had for him. You are a 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 33 
 
 remarkably clever woman, Miss Van Tyne. 
 You have brains in abundance. See, I do you 
 justice. What is more you are so beautiful 
 and can be so fascinating that, a man who 
 believed in you might easily worship you. 
 You made him believe in you. You tried to 
 beguile me into a condition triett with my nat 
 ure would be ruin indeed. You never had the 
 baby plea of a silly, shallow woman. I took 
 pains to find that out the first evening we met. 
 In your art of beguiling an honest, trusting 
 man you were as perfect as you were remorse 
 less, and you understood exactly what you 
 were doing." 
 
 For a time she seemed overwhelmed by his 
 lava-like torrent of words, and stood with 
 bowed head and a shrinking, trembling form, 
 but when he ceased she turned to him and 
 said, bitterly and emphatically : 
 
 " I did not understand what 1 was doing, 
 nor would my brain have taught me were I all 
 intellect like yourself. I half wish you had 
 left me to drown," and with a slight despair 
 ing gesture she turned away and did not look 
 back. 
 
34 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 Ackland s face lighted up with a sudden 
 flash of intelligence and deep feeling. He 
 started to recall her, hesitated and watched 
 her earnestly until she disappeared ; then look 
 ing out on the scowling ocean, he took off his 
 hat and exclaimed in a deep, low tone : 
 
 By all that s divine, can this be ? Is it pos 
 sible that through the suffering of her own 
 awakening heart she is learning to know the 
 pain she has given to others ? Should this be 
 true, the affair is taking an entirely new aspect, 
 and Munson will be avenged as neither of us 
 ever dreamed would be possible." 
 
 He resumed his old position and thought 
 long and deeply, then rejoined his cousin, who 
 was somewhat surprised to find that his bitter 
 mood had given place to his former compos 
 ure. 
 
 " How is this, Jack?" she asked. " As the 
 storm grows wilder without, you become more 
 serene." 
 
 " Only trying to make amends for my 
 former bearishness, " he said carelessly, but 
 with a little rising color. 
 
 " I don t understand you at all," she con- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 35 
 
 tinued, discontentedly. " I saw you sulking 
 in that out-of-the-way corner, and I saw Miss 
 Van Tyne approach you hesitatingly and 
 timidly with the purpose no doubt of thank 
 ing you. Of course I did not stay to watch, 
 but a little later I met Miss Van Tyne, and 
 she looked white and rigid. She has not left 
 her room since. " 
 
 "You take a great interest in Miss Van 
 Tyne. It is well you are not in my place." 
 
 " I half wish I was and had your chances. 
 You are more pitiless than the waves from 
 which you saved her." 
 
 14 I can t help being just what I am," he said 
 coldly. " Good-night." And he too disap 
 peared for the rest of the evening. 
 
 The rain continued to fall in blinding torrents 
 and the building fairly trembled under the 
 violence of the wind. The guests drew 
 together in the lighted rooms, and sought by 
 varied amusements to pass the time until the 
 fierceness of the storm abated, few caring to re 
 tire while the uproar of the elements was so 
 great. 
 
 At last as the storm passed away, and the late 
 
36 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 rising moon threw a sickly gleam on the tumul 
 tuous waters, Eva looked from her window 
 with sleepless eyes, thinking sadly and bitterly 
 of the past and future. Suddenly a dark figure 
 appeared on the beach in the track of the 
 moonlight. She snatched an opera-glass, but 
 could not recognize the solitary form. The 
 thought would come, however, that it was 
 Ackland, and if it were, what were his thoughts 
 and what place had she in them ? Why was 
 he watching so near the spot that might have 
 been their burial-place ? 
 
 " At least he shall not think that I can stol 
 idly sleep after what has occurred," she thought, 
 and she turned up her light, opened her win 
 dow and sat down by it again. Whoever the 
 unseasonable rambler might be he appeared to 
 recognize the gleam from her window, for he 
 walked hastily down the beach and disappear 
 ed. After a time she darkened her room 
 again and waited in vain for his return. " If 
 it were he, he shuns even the slightest recogni 
 tion," she thought despairingly, and the early 
 dawn was not far distant when she fell into an 
 unquiet sleep. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 37 
 
 For the next few days Miss Van Tyne was a 
 puzzle to all except Mrs. Alston. She was 
 quite unlike the girl she had formerly been and 
 she made no effort to disguise the fact. In 
 the place of her old exuberance of life and 
 spirits, there were lassitude and great depres 
 sion. The rich color ebbed steadily from her 
 face, and dark lines under her eyes betokened 
 sleepless nights. She saw the many curious 
 glances directed toward her, but apparently 
 did not care what was thought or surmised. 
 Were it not that her manner toward Ackland 
 was so misleading the tendency to couple 
 their names together would have been far more 
 general. She neither sought nor shunned his 
 society, and in fact treated him as she did the 
 other gentlemen of her acquaintance. She 
 took him at his word. He had said he would 
 forgive her on condition that she would not 
 speak of what he was pleased to term that 
 " little episode," and she never referred to it. 
 
 Her aunt was as much at fault- as the 
 others, and one day querulously complained to 
 Mrs. Alston that she was growing anxious about 
 Eva. " At first I thought she was disappoint- 
 
?8 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 ed over the indifference of that icy cousin of 
 yours, but she does not appear to care a straw 
 for him. When I mention his name she speaks 
 of him in a natural, grateful way, then her 
 thoughts appear to wander off to some matter 
 that is troubling her. I can t find out whether 
 she is ill or whether she has heard some bad 
 news of which she will not speak. She never 
 gave me or any one that I know of much of her 
 confidence." 
 
 Mrs. Alston listened but made no comments. 
 She was sure she was right in regard to Miss 
 Van Tyne s trouble, but her cousin mystified 
 her. Ackland had become perfectly inscru 
 table. As far as she could judge by any word 
 or act of his he had simply lost his interest in 
 Miss Van Tyne, and that was all that could be 
 said, and yet a fine instinct tormented Mrs. 
 Alston with the doubt that this was not true 
 and that the young girl was the subject of a 
 sedulously concealed scrutiny. Was he watch 
 ing for his friend or for his own sake, or was 
 he, in a spirit of retaliation, enjoying the suffer 
 ing of one who had made others suffer ? His 
 reserve was so great that she could not pierce 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 39 
 
 it, and his caution baffled even her vigilance. 
 But she waited patiently, assured that the little 
 drama must soon pass into a more significant 
 
 phase. 
 
 And she was right. Miss Van Tyne could 
 not maintain the line of action she had resolv 
 ed upon. She had thought, " I won t try to 
 appear happy when I am not. I won t adopt 
 the conventional mask of gayety when the 
 heart is wounded. How often I have seen 
 through it and smiled at the transparent farce 
 farce it seemed then, but I now fear it was 
 often tragedy. At any rate there was neither 
 dignity nor deception in it. I have done with 
 being false, and so shall simply act myself and 
 be a lady. Though my heart break a thou 
 sand times, not even by a glance shall I show 
 that it is breaking for him. If he or others 
 surmise the truth they may. Let them. It is a 
 part of my penance, and I will show the higher, 
 stronger pride of one who makes no vain, use 
 less pretence to happy indifference, but who can 
 maintain a self-control so perfect that even 
 Mrs. Alston shall not see one unmaidenly ad 
 vance or overture." 
 
40 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 And she succeeded for a time as we have 
 seen, but she overrated her will and underrated 
 her heart that with a deepening intensity 
 craved the love denied her. With increasing 
 frequency she said to herself, " I must go 
 away. My only course is to hide my weakness 
 and never see him again. He is inflexible, 
 and yet his very obduracy increases my love a 
 hundredfold." 
 
 At last after a lonely walk on the beach she 
 concluded : " My guardian must take me home 
 on Monday next. He comes to-night to 
 spend Sunday with us, and I will make prepara 
 tions to go at once." 
 
 Although her resolution did not fail her she 
 walked forward more and more slowly, and 
 her dejection and weariness were almost over 
 powering. As she was turning a sharp angle 
 of rocks that jutted well down toward the water 
 she came face to face with Ackland and Mrs. 
 Alston. She was off her guard, and her 
 thoughts of him had been so absorbing that 
 she felt he rpust be conscious of them. She 
 flushed painfully, and at first it seemed that 
 she would hurry by with slight recognitioi? and 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 41 
 
 downcast face, but she had scarcely passed 
 them before, acting under a sudden impulse, 
 she stopped and said in a low tone : 
 
 "Mr. Ackland " 
 
 He turned expectantly toward her, and she 
 either forgot or ignored Mrs. Alston. For a 
 moment she found it difficult to speak, and 
 then her face became pale and resolute. 
 
 " Mr. Ackland, I must refer once more to a 
 topic which you have in a sense forbidden. I 
 feel partially absolved, however, for I do not 
 think you have forgiven me anything. At any 
 rate I must ask your pardon once more for 
 having so needlessly and foolishly imperilled 
 your life. I say these words now because I 
 may not have another opportunity ; we leave 
 on Monday." And she raised her eyes to his 
 with an appeal for a little kindness which Mrs. ; 
 Alston was confident could not be resisted. 
 Indeed she was sure that she saw a slight ner 
 vous tremor in Ackland s hands as if he found 
 it hard to control himself. Then he appeared 
 to grow rigid. Lifting his hat he said gravely 
 and unresponsively : 
 
 " Miss VanTyne, you now surely have made 
 
4? AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 ample amends. Please forget the whole 
 affair." 
 
 She turned from him at once, but not so 
 quickly but that both he and his cousin saw 
 the bitter tears that would come. A moment 
 later she was hidden by the angle of the rock. 
 As long as she was visible Ackland watched 
 her without moving, and then he slowly turned 
 toward his cousin and his face was as inscrutable 
 as ever. She walked at his side for a few 
 moments in ill-concealed impatience, then stop 
 ped and said decisively : 
 
 ** I ll go no farther with you to-day. I am 
 losing all respect for you." 
 
 Without speaking he turned to accompany 
 her back to the house. His reticence and cold 
 ness appeared to annoy her beyond endurance, 
 for she soon stopped and sat down on a ledge 
 of the rocks that jutted down the beach where 
 they had met Miss Van Tyne. 
 
 John, you are the most unnatural man I 
 ever saw in my life," she began angrily. 
 
 What reason have you for so flattering an 
 opinion," he asked coolly. 
 
 " You have been giving reason for it every 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 43 
 
 day since you came here," she resumed hotly. 
 " I always heard it said that you had no heart, 
 but I defended you and declared that your 
 course toward your mother even when a boy 
 showed that you had, and that you would 
 prove it some day. But I now believe that 
 you are unnaturally cold, heartless and unfeel 
 ing. I had no objection to your wounding 
 Miss Van Tyne s vanity and encouraged you 
 when that alone bid fair to suffer. But when 
 she proved she had a heart and that you had 
 awakened it, she deserved at least kindness 
 and consideration on your part. If you could 
 not return her affection, you should have gone 
 away at once. But I believe that you have 
 stayed for the sole and cruel purpose of gloat 
 ing over her suffering." 
 
 11 She has not suffered more than my friend 
 or than I would if " 
 
 " You indeed ! The idea of you suffering 
 from any such cause ! I half believe you came 
 here with the deliberate purpose of avenging 
 your friend, and that you are keeping for his 
 inspection a diary in which the poor girl s hu- 
 rr-iliation to-day will form the hateful climax. 
 
44 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 They did not dream that the one most inter 
 ested was near. Miss Van Tyne had felt too 
 faint and sorely wounded to go farther without 
 rest. Believing that the rocks would hide her 
 from those whose eyes she would most wish to 
 shun, she had thrown herself down beyond the 
 angle and was shedding the bitterest tears that 
 she had ever known. Suddenly she heard 
 Mrs. Alston s words but a short distance away, 
 and was so overcome by their import that she 
 hesitated what to do. She would not meet 
 them again for the world, but felt so weak that 
 she doubted whether she could drag herself 
 away without being discovered, especially as 
 the beach trended off to the left so sharply a 
 little farther on that they might discover her. 
 While she was looking vainly for some way of 
 escape she heard Ackland s words and Mrs. 
 Alston s surmise in reply that he had come 
 with the purpose of revenge. She was so 
 stung by their apparent truth that she resolved 
 to clamber up through an opening of the rocks 
 if the thing were possible. Panting and ex 
 hausted she gained the summit, and then 
 hastened to an adjacent grove, as some wound- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 45 
 
 ed, timid creature would run to the nearest 
 cover. Ackland had heard sounds and had 
 stepped around the point of the rocks just in 
 time to see her disappearing above the bank. 
 Returning to Mrs. Alston he said impatiently : 
 
 4 In view of your opinions my society can 
 have no attractions for you. Shall I accom 
 pany you to the hotel ?" 
 
 44 No," was the angry reply. "I m in no 
 mood to speak to you again to-day." 
 
 He merely bowed and turned as if to pursue 
 his walk. The moment she was hidden, how 
 ever, he also climbed the rocks in time to see 
 Miss Van Tyne entering the grove. With 
 swift and silent tread he followed her, but could 
 not at once discover her hiding-place. At last 
 passionate sobs made it evident that she was 
 concealed behind a great oak a little on his 
 left. Approaching cautiously he heard her 
 moan : 
 
 44 Oh, this is worse than death ! He makes 
 me feel as if even God had no mercy for me. 
 But I will expiate my wrong- I will, at the 
 bitterest sacrifice which a woman can make." 
 
 She sprang up and Ackland stood before her 
 
46 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 with folded arms. . She started violently and 
 leaned against the tree for support. But the 
 weakness was momentary, for she wiped the 
 tears from her eyes, and then turned toward 
 him so quietly that only her extreme pallor 
 proved that she realized the import of her 
 words. 
 
 " Mr. Ackland," she asked, " have you Mr. 
 Munson s address ?" 
 
 It was his turn now to start, but he merely 
 answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Do do you think he still cares for me ?" 
 Undoubtedly." 
 
 " Since then you are so near a friend, will 
 you write to him that I will try" she turned 
 away and would not look at him as, after a 
 moment s hesitation, she concluded her sen 
 tence-" I will try to make him as happy as I 
 can." 
 
 "Do you regret your course?" he asked, 
 with a slight tremor in his voice. 
 
 I regret that I misled that I wronged him 
 beyond all words. I am willing to make all 
 the amends in my power." 
 Do you love him ?" 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 47 
 
 She now turned wholly away and shook her 
 head. 
 
 " And yet you would marry him ?" 
 
 Yes, if he wished it, knowing all the 
 truth." 
 
 "Can you believe he would wish it?" he 
 asked indignantly. " Can you believe that 
 any man 
 
 " Then avenge him to your cruel soul s con 
 tent," she exclaimed passionately. Tell 
 him that I have no heart to give to him or to 
 any one. Through no effort or fault of mine I 
 overheard Mrs. Alston s words and yours. I 
 know your design against me. Assuage your 
 friend s grief by assuring him of your entire 
 success of which you are already so well aware. 
 Tell him how you triumphed over an untaught, 
 thoughtless girl who was impelled merely by 
 the love of power and excitement as you are 
 governed by ambition and a remorseless will. 
 I did not know I did not understand how 
 cruel I was, although now that I do know I 
 shall never forgive myself. But if you had the 
 heart of a man you might have seen that you 
 were subjecting me to torture. I did not ask 
 
48 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 or expect that you should care for me, but I 
 had a right to hope for a little kindness, a little 
 manly and delicate consideration, a little heal 
 ing sympathy for the almost mortal wound 
 that you have made. But I now see that you 
 have stood by and watched like a grand in 
 quisitor. Tell your friend that you have 
 transferred the thoughtless girl into a suffering 
 woman. I cannot go to Brazil. I cannot 
 face dangers that might bring rest. I must 
 keep my place in society keep it too under a 
 hundred observant and curious eyes. You 
 have seen it all of late in this house ; I was too 
 wretched to care. It was a part of my pun 
 ishment, and I accepted it. I would not be 
 false again even in trying to conceal a secret 
 which it is like death to a woman to reveal. I 
 only craved one word of kindness from you. 
 Had I received it I would have gone away in 
 silence and suffered in silence. But your couise 
 and what I have heard have made me reckless 
 and despairing, You do not leave me even 
 the poor consolation of self-sacrifice. You are 
 my stony-hearted fate. I wish you had left 
 me to drown. Tell your friend that I am more 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 49 
 
 wretched than he ever can be, because I am a 
 woman. Will he be satisfied ?" 
 
 " He ought to be, was the low, husky 
 reply. 
 
 " Are you proud of your triumph ?" 
 
 14 No, I am heartily ashamed of it ; but 1 
 have kept a pledge that will probably cost me 
 far more than it has you " 
 
 "A pledge?" 
 
 " Yes, my pledge to make you suffer as far 
 as possible as he suffered." 
 
 She put her hand to her side as if she had re 
 ceived a wound, and after a momerit said wea 
 rily and coldly : 
 
 44 Well, tell him that you succeeded, and be 
 content," and she turned to leave him. 
 
 :< Stay," he cried impetuously. It is now 
 your turn. Take your revenge/ 
 
 4< My revenge? she repeated in unfeigned 
 astonishment, 
 
 4 Yes, your revenge. I have loved you from 
 the moment I hoped you had a woman s heart, 
 yes and before when 1 feared I might not be 
 able to save your life. I know it now, though 
 the very thought of it enraged me then. I 
 
50 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 have watched and waited more to be sure that 
 you had a woman s heart than for aught else, 
 though a false sense of honor kept me true to 
 my pledge. After I met you on the beach I 
 determined at once to break my odious bond 
 and place myself at your mercy. You may 
 refuse me in view of my course you probably 
 will ; but every one in that house there shall 
 know that you refused me, and your triumph 
 shall be more complete than mine." 
 
 She looked into his face with an expression 
 of amazement and doubt, but instead of cold 
 ness, there was now a devotion and pleading 
 that she had never seen before. 
 
 She was too confused and astounded, how 
 ever, to comprehend his words immediately, 
 nor could the impression of his hostility 
 toward her pass away readily. 
 
 "You are mocking me," she faltered, 
 scarcely knowing what she said. 
 
 I cannot blame you that you think me 
 capable of mocking the noble candor which 
 has cost you so dear, as I can now understand. 
 I cannot ask you to believe that I appreciate 
 your heroic impulse of self-sacrifice your pur> 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 51 
 
 pose to atone for wrong by inflicting irreparable 
 wrong on yourself. It is natural that you 
 should think of me only as an instrument of 
 revenge with no more feeling than some keen 
 edged weapon would have. This also is the 
 inevitable penalty of my course. When I 
 speak of my love I cannot complain if you 
 smile in bitter incredulity. But I have at least 
 proved that I have a resolute will and that I 
 keep my word, and I again assure you that it 
 shall be known this very night that you have 
 refused me, that I offered you my hand, that 
 you already had my heart where your image is 
 enshrined with that of my mother, and that I 
 entreated you to be my wife. My cousin alone 
 guessed my miserable triumph ; all shall know 
 of yours." 
 
 As he spoke with impassioned earnestness 
 the confusion passed from her mind, she felt 
 the truth of his words, she knew that her ambi 
 tious dream had been fulfilled, and that she had 
 achieved the conquest of a man upon whom 
 all others had smiled in vain. But how im 
 measurably different were her emotions from 
 those which she had once anticipated ; not her 
 
52 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 beauty, not her consummate skill in fascination 
 had wrought this miracle, but her woman s 
 heart, awakened at last ; and it had thrilled 
 with such an unspeakable joy that she had 
 turned away to hide its reflex in her face. He 
 was misled by the act into believing that she 
 could not forgive him, and yet was perplexed 
 when she murmured with a return of her old 
 piquant humor, 
 
 You are mistaken, Mr. Ackland ; it shall 
 never be known that I refused you." 
 
 " How can you prevent it ?" 
 
 " If your words are sincere, you will submit 
 to such terms as I choose to make." 
 
 44 I am sincere, and my actions shall prove it, 
 but I shall permit no mistaken self sacrifice on 
 your part, nor any attempt to shield me from 
 the punishment I well deserve." 
 
 She suddenly turned upon him a radiant face 
 in which he read his happiness, and faltered : 
 
 " Jack, I do believe you, although the 
 change seems wrought by some heavenly 
 magic. But it will take a long time to pay you 
 up. I hope to be your dear torment for a life 
 time. " 
 
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 53 
 
 He. caught her in such a strong, impetuous 
 embrace that she gasped : 
 
 " I thought you were cold toward our 
 
 " It s not your sex that l am clasping, but 
 you you, my Eve. Like the first man, I have 
 won my bride under the green trees and 
 beneath the open sky." 
 
 Yes, Jack, and I give you my whole 
 heart as truly as did the first woman when 
 there was but one man in all the world. That 
 is my revenge. 
 
 This is what Will Munson wrote some weeks 
 later : 
 
 " Well, Jack, I ve had the yellow fever, 
 and it was the most fortunate event of my 
 life. I was staying with a charming family, 
 and they would not permit my removal to a 
 hospital. One of my bravest and most de 
 voted nurses has consented to become my 
 wife. I hope you punished that little wretch 
 Eva Van Tyne as she deserved." 
 
 " Confound your fickle soul !" muttered 
 Ackland. " I punished her as she did not de 
 serve, and I risked more than life in doing so. 
 If her heart had not been as good as gold and 
 
54 AN UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 as kind as Heaven she never would have look 
 ed at me again." 
 
 Ackland is quite as indifferent to the sex as 
 ever, but Eva has never complained that ne 
 was cold toward her. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR 
 TIMES. 
 
II. 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 IT was the beginning of a battle. The 
 skirmish line of the Union advance was sweep- 
 ing rapidly over a rough mountainous region in 
 the South, and in his place on the extreme left 
 of this line was Private Anson Marlow. Tall 
 trees rising from underbrush, rocks, boulders, 
 gulches worn by spring torrents, were the charac 
 teristics of the field, which was in wild contrast 
 with the parade-grounds on which the combat 
 ants had first learned the tactics of war. The 
 majority, however, of those now in the ranks 
 had since been drilled too often under like cir 
 cumstances, and with lead and iron-shotted 
 guns, not to know their duty, and the lines of 
 battle were as regular as the broken country al 
 lowed. So far as many obstacles permitted 
 
5^ CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 Marlow kept his proper distance from the 
 others on the line and fired coolly when he 
 caught glimpses of the retreating Confederate 
 skirmishers. They were retiring with ominous 
 readiness toward a wooded height which the 
 enemy occupied with a force of unknown 
 strength. That strength was soon manifested 
 in temporary disaster to the Union forces, 
 which were driven back with heavy loss. 
 
 Neither the battle nor its fortunes are the 
 objects of our present concern, but rather the 
 fate of Private Marlow. The tide of battle 
 drifted away and left the soldier desperately 
 wounded, in a narrow ravine, through which 
 babbled a small stream. Excepting the voices 
 of his wife and children, no music had ever 
 sounded so sweetly in his ears. With great 
 difficulty he crawled to a little bubbling pool 
 formed by a tiny cascade and encircling stones, 
 and partially slaked his intolerable thirst. 
 
 He believed he was dying bleeding to 
 death. The very thought blunted his facul 
 ties for a time, and he was conscious of little 
 beyond a dull wonder. Could it be possible 
 that the tragedy of his death was enacting in 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 59 
 
 that peaceful, secluded nook ? Could nature 
 be so indifferent or so unconscious, if it were 
 true that he was soon to lie there dead? He 
 saw the speckled trout lying motionless at the 
 bottom of the pool, the gray squirrels sporting 
 in the boughs over his head. The sunlight 
 shimmered and glinted through the leaves, 
 flecking with light his prostrate form. He dip 
 ped his hand in the blood that had welled from 
 his side and it fell in rubies from his fingers. 
 Could that be his blood his life-blood, and 
 would it soon all ooze away ? Could it be that 
 death was coming through all the brightness of 
 that summer afternoon ? 
 
 From a shadowed tree farther up the glen, 
 a wood-thrush suddenly began its almost un 
 rivalled song. The familiar melody, heard so 
 often from his cottage-porch in the June twi 
 light, awoke him to the bitter truth. His wife 
 had then sat beside him, while his little ones 
 played here and there among the trees and 
 shrubbery. They would hear the same song 
 to-day ; he would never hear it again. That 
 counted for little, but the thought of their sit 
 ting behind the vines and listening to their 
 
60 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 favorite bird, spring after spring and summer 
 after summer, and he ever absent, overwhelmed 
 him. 
 
 O Gertrude, my wife, my wife ! O my 
 children !" he groaned. 
 
 His breast heaved with a great sigh ; the 
 blood welled afresh from his wound ; what 
 seemed a mortal weakness crept over him, and 
 
 he thought he died. 
 
 *#***** 
 
 " Say, Eb, is he done gone?" 
 
 Clar to grashus if I know. Pears mighty 
 like it." 
 
 These words were spoken by two stout 
 negroes, who had stolen toward the battle-field 
 as the sounds of conflict died away. 
 
 " I m doggoned if I tink he s dead. He s 
 only swoonded," asserted the man addressed 
 as Eb. Twon t do to lebe im here to die, 
 Zack." 
 
 " Sartin not ; we d hab bad luck all our 
 days." 
 
 " I reckon ole man Pearson will keep him, 
 and his wife s a po ful nuss. " 
 
 44 Pearson orter ; he s a Unioner. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 61 
 
 " S pose we try him ; tain t so bery fur 
 off." 
 
 On the morning of the 24th of December, 
 Mrs. Anson Marlow sat in the living-room of 
 her cottage, that stood well out in the suburbs 
 of a Northern town. Her eyes were hollow 
 and full of trouble that seemed almost beyond 
 tears, and the bare room, that had been strip 
 ped of nearly every appliance and suggestion 
 of comfort, but too plainly indicated one of 
 the causes. Want was stamped on her thin 
 face, that once had been so full and pretty : 
 poverty in its bitter extremity was unmistak 
 ably shown by the uncarpeted floor, the meagre 
 fire and scanty furniture. It was a period of 
 depression ; work had been scarce, and much 
 of the time she had been too ill and feeble to 
 do rnore than care for her children. Away 
 back in August her resources had been running 
 low, bat she had daily expected the long arrears 
 of pay which her husband would receive as 
 soon as the exigencies of the campaign per 
 mitted. Instead of these funds, so greatly 
 needed, came the tidings of a Union defeat, 
 
62 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 with her husband s name down among the 
 missing. Beyond that brief mention, so horri 
 ble in its vagueness, she had never heard a 
 word from the one who not only sustained her 
 home but also her heart. Was he languishing 
 in a Southern prison, or, mortally wounded, 
 had he lingered out some terrible hours on 
 that wild battle-field, a brief description of which 
 had been so dwelt upon by her morbid fancy 
 that it had become like one of the scenes in 
 Dante s " Inferno "? For along time she could 
 not and would not believe that such an over 
 whelming disaster had befallen her and her 
 children, although she knew that similar losses 
 had come to thousands of others. Events that 
 the world regards as not only possible but 
 probable are often so terrible in their personal 
 consequences that we shrink from even the . 
 bare thought of their occurrence. 
 
 If Mrs. Marlow had been told from the first 
 that her husband was dead, the shock resulting 
 would not have been so injurious as the sus 
 pense that robbed her of rest for days, weeks 
 and months. She haunted the post-office, and 
 if a stranger was seen coming up the street 
 
CHRISTMAS, EVE IN WAR TIMES. 63 
 
 toward her cottage she watched feverishly for 
 his turning in at her gate with the tidings of 
 her husband s safety. Night after night she 
 lay awake, hoping, praying that she might 
 hear his step returning on a furlough to which 
 wounds or sickness had entitled him. The 
 natural and inevitable result was illness and 
 nervous prostration. 
 
 Practical neighbors had told her that her 
 course was all wrong ; that she should be re 
 signed and even cheerful for her children s 
 sake ; that she needed to sleep well and live 
 well in order that she might have strength to 
 provide for them. She would make pathetic 
 attempts to follow this sound and thrifty ad 
 vice, but suddenly, when at her work or in her 
 troubled sleep, that awful word " missing" 
 would pierce her heart like an arrow, and she 
 would moan and at times, in the depths of her 
 anguish, cry out, " Oh, where is he? Shall I 
 ever see him again ?" 
 
 But the unrelenting demands of life are 
 made as surely upon the breaking as upon the 
 happy heart. She and her children must have 
 food, clothing and shelter. Her illness and 
 
64 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 feebleness at last taught her that she must not 
 yield to her grief, except so far as she was un 
 able to suppress it ; that, for the sake of those 
 now seemingly dependent upon her, she must 
 rally every shattered nerve and every relaxed 
 muscle. With a heroism far beyond that of 
 her husband and his comrades in the field, she 
 sought to fight the wolf from the door, or at 
 least to keep him at bay. Although the strug 
 gle seemed a hopeless one, she patiently did 
 her best from day to day, eking out her scanty 
 earnings by the sale or pawn of such of her 
 household goods as she could best spare. She 
 felt that she would do anything rather than 
 reveal her poverty or accept chanty. Some 
 help was more or less kindly offered, but be 
 yond such aid as one neighbor may receive of 
 another she had said gently but firmly, " Not 
 yet." 
 
 The Marlows were comparative strangers in 
 the city where they had resided. Her husband 
 had been a teacher in one of its public schools 
 and his salary small. Patriotism had been his 
 motive for entering the army, and, while it had 
 cost him a mighty struggle to leave his family, 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 65 
 
 fee felt that he had no more reason to hold back 
 than thousands of others. He believed that 
 he could still provide for those dependent upon 
 him, and if he fell, those for whom he died 
 would not permit his widow and children to 
 surfer. But the first popular enthusiasm for 
 the war had largely died out ; the city was full 
 of widows and orphans ; there was depression 
 of spirit, stagnation in business, and a very gen 
 eral disposition on the part of those who had 
 means, to take care of themselves, and provide 
 for darker days that might be in the immediate 
 future. Sensitive, retiring Mrs. Marlow was 
 not the one to push her claims or reveal her 
 need. Moreover, she could never give up the 
 hope that tidings from her husband might, at 
 any time, bring relief and safety. 
 
 But the crisis had come at last, and on this 
 dreary December day she was face to face with 
 absolute want. The wolf, with his gaunt eyes, 
 was crouched beside her cold hearth. A pit 
 tance owed to her for work had not been paid ; 
 the little food left in the house had furnished 
 the children an unsatisfying breakfast ; she 
 had eaten nothing. On the table beside her 
 
66 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 lay a note from the agent of the estate of which 
 her home was a part, bidding her call that 
 morning. She knew why the rent was two 
 months in arrears. It seemed like death to 
 leave the house in which her husband had 
 placed her and wherein she had spent her hap 
 piest days. It stood well away from the 
 crowded town. The little yard and garden, 
 with their trees, vines and shrubbery, some of 
 which her husband had planted, were all dear 
 from association. In the rear there was a 
 grove and open fields, which, though not 
 belonging to the cottage, were not forbidden 
 to the children, and they formed a wonderland 
 of delight in spring, summer and fall. Must 
 she take her active, restless boy Jamie, the 
 image of his father, into a crowded tenement ? 
 Must golden-haired Susie, with her dower of 
 beauty, be imprisoned in one close room, or 
 else be exposed to the evil of corrupt associa 
 tion just beyond the threshold ? 
 
 Moreover, her retired home had become a 
 refuge. Here she could hide her sorrow and 
 poverty. Here she could touch what he had 
 touched and sit, during the long winter evenv 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 67 
 
 ings, in his favorite corner by the fire. Around 
 her, within and without, were the little appli 
 ances for her comfort which his hands had 
 made. How could she leave all this and live ? 
 Deep in her heart also the hope would linger 
 that he would come again and seek her where 
 he had left her. 
 
 " O God !" she cried suddenly. " Thou 
 wouldst not, couldst not, permit him to die 
 without one farewell word," and she buried 
 her face in her hands and rocked back and 
 forth, while hard, dry sobs shook her slight, 
 famine-pinched form. 
 
 The children stopped their pl.,y and came 
 and leaned upon her lap. 
 
 "Don t cry, mother," said Jamie, a little 
 boy of ten ; "I ll soon be big enough to work 
 for you, and I ll get rich, and you shall have 
 the biggest house in town. I ll take care of 
 you if papa don t comeback." 
 
 Little Sue knew not what to say, but the 
 impulse of her love was her best guide. She 
 threw her arms around her mother s neck with 
 such an impetuous and child-like outburst of 
 affection that the poor woman s bitter and 
 
68 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 despairing thoughts were banished for a time. 
 The deepest chord of her nature, mother love, 
 was touched, and for her children s sake she 
 rose up once more and faced the hard problems 
 of her life. Putting on her bonnet and thin 
 shawl (she had parted with much that she now 
 so sorely needed), she went out into the cold 
 December wind. The sky was clouded like 
 her hopes, and the light, even in the morning 
 hours, was dim and leaden-hued. 
 
 She first called on Mr. Jackson, the agent from 
 whom she rented her home, and besought him 
 to give her a little more time. 
 
 14 I will beg for work from door to door," 
 she said. " Surely in this Christian city there 
 must be those who will give me work, and that 
 is all I ask." 
 
 The sleek, comfortable man, in his well-ap 
 pointed office, was touched slightly, and said 
 in a voice that was not so gruff as he at first 
 had intended it should be : 
 
 Well, I will wait a week or two longer. 
 If then you cannot pay something on what is 
 already due, my duty to my employers will 
 compel me to take the usual course. You 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 69 
 
 have told me all along that your husband would 
 surely return, and I have hated to say a word 
 to discourage you ; but I fear you will have to 
 bring yourself to face the truth and act accord 
 ingly, as so many others have done. I know 
 it s very hard for you, but I am held responsi 
 ble by my employer, and at my intercession 
 he has been lenient, as you must admit. You 
 could get a room or two in town for half 
 what you must pay where you are. Good- 
 morning. " 
 
 She went out again into the street, which 
 the shrouded sky made sombre in spite of prep 
 arations seen on every side for the chief fes 
 tival of the year. The fear was growing 
 strong that like Him, in whose memory the 
 day was honored, she and her little ones might 
 soon not know where to lay their heads. She 
 succeeded in getting the small sum owed to 
 her and payment also for some sewing just 
 finished. More work she could not readily 
 obtain, for every one was busy and preoccu 
 pied by the coming day of gladness. 
 
 " Call again," some said kindly or careless 
 ly, according to their nature. " After the holi- 
 
70 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 days are over we will try to have or make 
 some work for you." 
 
 But I need I must have work now," she 
 ventured to say whenever she had the chance. 
 
 In response to this appeal there were a few 
 offers of charity, small indeed, but from which 
 she drew back with an instinct so strong that 
 it could not be overcome. On every side 
 she heard the same story. The times were 
 very hard ; requests for work and aid had been 
 so frequent that purses and patience were ex 
 hausted. Moreover, people had spent their 
 Christmas money on their own households and 
 friends, and were already beginning to feel 
 poor. 
 
 At last she obtained a little work, and hav 
 ing made a few purchases of that which was 
 absolutely essential, she was about to drag her 
 weary feet homeward when the thought occur 
 red to her that the children would want to hang 
 up their stockings at night, and she murmured, 
 " It may be the last chance I shall ever have 
 to put a Christmas gift in them. Oh, that I 
 were stronger ! Oh, that I could take my sor 
 row more as others seem to take theirs ! But 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 71 
 
 I cannot, I cannot. My burden is greater 
 than I can bear. The cold of this awful day 
 is chilling my very heart, and my grief, as 
 hope dies, is crushing my soul. Oh, he must 
 be dead, he must be dead ! That is what they 
 all think. God help my little ones ! Oh, 
 what will become of them if I sink, as I fear I 
 shall ! If it were not for them I feel as if I 
 would fall and die here in the street. Well, 
 be our fate what it may, they shall owe to me 
 one more gleam of happiness," and she went 
 into a confectioner s shop and bought a few 
 ornamented cakes. These were the only gifts 
 she could afford, and they must be in the form 
 of food. 
 
 Before she reached home the snow was whirl 
 ing in the frosty air, and the shadows of the 
 brief winter day deepening fast. With a smile 
 far more pathetic than tears she greeted the 
 children, who were cold, hungry and frightened 
 at her long absence ; and they, children-like, 
 saw only the smile, and not the grief it mask 
 ed. They saw also the basket which she 
 placed on the table, and were quick to note 
 that it seemed a little fuller than of late. 
 
72 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 " Jamie," she said, " run to the store 
 down the street for some coal and kindlings 
 that I bought, and then we will have a good 
 fire and a nice supper," and the boy, at such a 
 prospect, eagerly obeyed. 
 
 She was glad to have him gone, that she 
 might hide her weakness. She sank into a 
 chair, so white and faint that even little Susie 
 left off peering into the basket, and came to 
 her with a troubled face. 
 
 It s nothing, dearie," the poor creature 
 said. " Mamma s only a little tired. See," 
 she added, tottering to the table, " I have 
 brought you a great piece of gingerbread." 
 
 The hungry child grasped it, and was 
 oblivious and happy. 
 
 By the time Jamie returned with his first 
 basket of kindling and coal, the mother had so \ 
 far rallied from her exhaustion as to meet him 
 smilingly again and help him replenish the 
 dying fire. 
 
 " Now you shall rest and have your ginger 
 bread before going for your second load," she 
 said cheerily, and the boy took what was am 
 brosia to him and danced around the room in 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 75 
 
 joyous reaction from the depression of the long, 
 weary day, during which, lonely and hungry, 
 he had wondered why his mother did not re 
 turn. 
 
 " So little could make them happy, and yet 
 I cannot seem to obtain even that little," she 
 sighed. " I fear indeed, I fear I cannot be 
 with them another Christmas ; therefore they 
 shall remember that I tried to make them 
 happy once more, and the recollection may 
 survive the long, sad days before them, and 
 become a part of my memory." 
 
 The room was now growing dark, and she 
 lighted the lamp. Then she cowered shiver- 
 ingly over the reviving fire, feeling as if she 
 could never be warm again. 
 
 The street-lamps were lighted early on that 
 clouded, stormy evening, and they were a sig 
 nal to Mr. Jackson, the agent, to leave his 
 office. He remembered that he had ordered 
 a holiday dinner, and now found himself 
 in a mood to enjoy it. He had scarcely left 
 his door before a man, coming up the street 
 with great strides and head bent down to 
 tne snow-laden blast, brushed roughly against 
 
74 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 him. The stranger s cap was drawn over his 
 eyes, and the raised collar of his blue army 
 overcoat nearly concealed his face. The man 
 hurriedly begged pardon, and was hastening on 
 when Mr. Jackson s exclamation of surprise 
 cause him to stop and look at the person he 
 had jostled. 
 
 Why, Mr. Marlow, " the agent began, 
 "I m glad to see you. It s a pleasure I feared 
 I should never have again." 
 
 My wife/ the man almost gasped, " she s 
 still in the house I rented of you ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly," was the hasty reply. " It ll 
 be all right now." 
 
 What do you mean ? Has it not been all 
 right?" 
 
 "Well, you see, " said Mr. Jackson apolo 
 getically, " we have been very lenient toward 
 your wife, but the rent has not been paid for 
 over two months, and 
 
 " And you were about to turn her and her 
 children out of doors in midwinter," broke in 
 the soldier wrathfully. " That is the way you 
 sleek, comfortable stay-at-home people care for 
 those fighting your battles. After you con- 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 75 
 
 eluded that I was dead, and that the rent might 
 not be forthcoming, you decided to put my 
 wife into the street. Open your office, sir, 
 and you shall have your rent." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Marlow, there s no cause for 
 pitching into me in this way. You know that 
 I am but an agent, and 
 
 " Tell your rich employer, then, what I 
 have said, and ask him what he would be worth 
 to-day were there not men like myself, who 
 are willing to risk everything and suffer every 
 thing for the Union. But I ve no time to 
 bandy words. Have you seen my wife lately ? 
 
 " Yes," was the hesitating reply ; " she was 
 here to-day, and I 
 
 " How is she ? What did you say to her ?" 
 
 " Well, she doesn t look very strong. I felt 
 sorry for her and gave her more time, taking 
 the responsibility myself " 
 
 " How much time ?" 
 
 " I said two weeks, but no doubt I could 
 have had the time extended." 
 
 " I have my doubts. Will you and your 
 employer please accept my humble gratitude 
 that you had the grace not to turn her out of 
 
76 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 doors during the holiday season. It might 
 have caused remark, but that consideration 
 and some others that I might name are not to 
 be weighed against a few dollars and cents. I 
 shall now remove the strain upon your patriot 
 ism at once, and will not only pay arrears but 
 also for two months in advance." 
 
 " Oh, there s no need of that to-day." 
 Yes, there is. My wife shall feel to-night 
 that she has a home She evidently has not 
 received the letter I wrote as soon as I reached 
 our lines, or you would not have been talking 
 to her about two weeks more of shelter." 
 
 The agent reopened his office and saw a roll 
 of bills extracted from Marlow s pocket that 
 left no doubt of the soldier s ability to provide 
 for his family. He gave his receipt in silence, 
 feeling that words would not mend matters, 
 and then trudged off to his dinner with a flag 
 ging appetite. 
 
 As Marlow strode away he came to a sudden 
 resolution he would look upon his wife and 
 children before they saw him ; he would feast 
 his eyes while they were unconscious of the 
 love that was beaming upon them. The dark- 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 77 
 
 ness and storm favored his project, and in brief 
 time he saw the light in his window. Unlatch 
 ing the gate softly and with his steps muffled 
 by the snow that already carpeted the frozen 
 ground, he reached the window, the blinds of 
 which were but partially closed. His children 
 frolicking about the room were the first objects 
 that caught his eye, and he almost laughed 
 aloud in his joy. Then, by turning another 
 blind slightly, he saw his wife shivering over 
 the fire. 
 
 11 Great God !" he muttered, " how she has 
 suffered !" and he was about to rush in and 
 take her into his arms. On the threshold he 
 restrained himself, paused and said, " No, not 
 yet ; I ll break the news of my return in my 
 own way. The shock of my sudden appear 
 ance might be too great for her ;" and he went 
 back to the window. The wife s eyes were 
 following her children with such a wistful ten 
 derness that the boy, catching her gaze, stop 
 ped his sport, came to her side and began to 
 speak. They were but a few feet away, and 
 Marlovv caught every word. 
 
 " Mamma," the child said, " you didn t eat 
 
78 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES, 
 
 any breakfast, and I don t believe you have 
 eaten anything to-day. You are always giving 
 everything to us. Now I declare I won t eat 
 another bit unless you take half of my cake," 
 and he broke off a piece and laid it in her lap. 
 
 " Oh, Jamie, " cried the poor woman, " you 
 looked so like your father when you spoke that 
 I could almost see him," and she caught him 
 in her arms and covered him with kisses. 
 
 " I ll soon be big enough to take care of 
 you. I m going to grow up just like papa 
 and do everything for you," the boy said 
 proudly as she released him. 
 
 Little Susie also came and placed what was 
 left of her cake in her mother s lap, saying : 
 
 " I ll work for you, too, mamma, and to 
 morrow I ll sell the doll Santa Claus gave me 
 last Christmas, and then we ll all have plent) I 
 to eat." 
 
 Anson Marlovv was sobbing outside the win 
 dow as only a man weeps, and his tears in the 
 bitter cold became drops of ice before they 
 reached the ground. 
 
 " My darlings !" the mother cried. " O 
 God, spare me to you and provide some way 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 79 
 
 for us. Your love should make me rich though 
 I lack all else. There, I won t cry any more, 
 and you shall have as happy a Christmas as I 
 can give you. Perhaps lit who knew what it 
 was to be homeless and shelterless will provide 
 for our need ; so we ll try to trust Him and 
 keep His birthday. And now, Jamie, go and 
 bring the rest of the coal, and then we will make 
 the dear home that papa gave us cheery and 
 warm once more. If he were only with us we 
 wouldn t mind hunger or cold, would we ? O 
 my husband !" she broke out afresh, " if you 
 could only come back, even though crippled 
 and helpless, I feel that I could live and grow 
 strong from simple gladness." 
 
 " Don t you think, mamma," Jamie asked, 
 " that God will let papa come down from 
 heaven and spend Christmas with us ? He 
 might be here like the angels, and we not see 
 him." 
 
 ; * I m afraid not," the sad woman replied, 
 shaking her head and speaking more to herself 
 than to the child. " I don t see how he could 
 go back to heaven and be happy if he knew 
 all. No, we must be patient and try to do 
 
8o CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 our best, so that we can go to him. Go now, 
 Jamie, before it gets too late. I ll get supper, 
 and then we ll sing a Christmas hymn, and you 
 and Susie shall hang up your stockings, just as 
 you did last Christmas, when dear papa was 
 with us. We ll try to do everything he would 
 wish, and then by-and-by we shall see him 
 again." 
 
 As the boy started on his errand his father 
 stepped back out of the light of the window, 
 then followed the child with a great yearning 
 in his heart. He would make sure the boy 
 was safe at home again before he carried out 
 his plan. From a distance he saw the little 
 fellow receive the coal and start slowly home 
 ward with the burden, and he followed to a 
 point where the light of the street lamps ceased, 
 then joined the child, and said in a gruff voice, 
 " Here, little man, I m going your way. Let 
 me carry your basket," and he took it and 
 strode on so fast that the boy had to run to 
 keep pace with him. Jamie shuffled along 
 through the snow as well as he could, but his 
 little legs were so short in comparison with 
 those of the kindly stranger that he found him- 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 81 
 \. 
 
 self gradually falling behind. So he put on an 
 extra burst of speed and managed to lay hold 
 of the long blue skirt of the army overcoat. 
 
 " Please, sir, don t go quite so fast," he 
 panted. 
 
 The stranger slackened his pace, and in a 
 constrained tone of voice, asked : 
 
 " How far are you going, little man ?" 
 
 "Only to our house mamma s. She s 
 Mrs. Marlow, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I know that is, I reckon I do. How 
 much farther is it ?" 
 
 " Oh, not much ; we re most half-way now. 
 I say, you re a soldier, aren t you ?" 
 
 " Yes, my boy," said Marlow, with a lump 
 in his throat. Why ?" 
 
 " Well, you see, my papa is a soldier, too, 
 and I thought you might know him. We 
 haven t heard from him for a good while, 
 and " choking a bit " mamma s afraid he is 
 hurt, or taken prisoner or something." He 
 could not bring himself to say " killed." 
 
 Jamie let go the overcoat to draw his sleeve 
 across his eyes, and the big man once more 
 strode on faster than ever, and Jamie began to 
 
82 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 fear lest the dusky form might disappear in 
 the snow and darkness with both basket and 
 coal, but the apparent stranger so far forgot 
 his part that he put down the basket at Mrs. 
 Marlow s gate, and then passed on so quickly 
 that the panting boy had not time to thank 
 him. Indeed, Anson Marlow knew that if he 
 lingered but a moment he would have the child 
 in his arms. 
 
 Why, Jamie," exclaimed his mother, 
 " how could you get back so soon with that 
 heavy basket ? It was too heavy for you, but 
 you will have to be mamma s little man now." 
 
 " A big man caught up with me and carried 
 it. I don t care if he did have a gruff voice, 
 I m sure he was a good, kind man. He knew 
 where we lived, too, for he put the basket 
 down at our gate before I con Id say a word, I 
 was so out of breath, and then he was out of 
 sight in a minute." Some instinct kept him 
 from saying anything about the army overcoat. 
 
 " It s some neighbor that lives farther up 
 the street, I suppose, and saw you getting the 
 coal at the store," Mrs. Marlow said. " Yes, 
 Jamie, it was a good, kind act to help a little 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 83 
 
 boy, and I think he ll have a happier Christ 
 mas for doing it." 
 
 " Do you really think he ll have a happier 
 Christmas, mamma?" 
 
 "Yes, I truly think so. We are so made 
 that we cannot do a kind act without feeling 
 the better for it." 
 
 " Well, I think he was a queer sort of a man 
 if he was kind. I never knew any one to walk 
 so fast. I spoke to him once, but he did not 
 answer. Perhaps the wind roared so he 
 couldn t hear me." 
 
 " No doubt he was hurrying home to his 
 wife and children," she said, with a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 When his boy disappeared within the door 
 of the cottage, Marlow turned and walked 
 rapidly toward the city, first going to the gro 
 cery at which he had been in the habit of pur 
 chasing his supplies. The merchant stared for 
 a moment, then stepped forward and greeted 
 his customer warmly. 
 
 Well," he said, after his first exclamations 
 of surprise were over, " the snow has made 
 you almost as white as a ghost, but I m glad 
 
84 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 you re not one. We scarce ever thought to 
 see you again." 
 
 " Has my wife an open account here now ?" 
 was the brief response. 
 
 " Yes, and it might have been much larger. 
 I ve told her so, too. She stopped taking 
 credit some time ago, and when she s had a 
 dollar or two to spare she s paid it on the old 
 score. She bought so little that I said to her 
 once that she need not go elsewhere to buy 
 that I d sell to her as cheap as any one ; that I 
 believed you d come back all right, and if you 
 didn t she could pay me when she could. 
 What do you think she did ? Why she burst 
 out crying, and said, God bless you, sir, for 
 saying my husband will come back. So many 
 have discouraged me. I declare to you her 
 feeling was so right down genuine that I had 
 to mop my own eyes. But she wouldn t take 
 any more credit, and she bought so little that 
 I ve been troubled. I d have sent her some 
 thing, but your wife somehow ain t one of 
 them kind that you can give things to, and 
 
 Marlow interrupted the good-hearted, garru 
 lous shopman by saying significantly, " Come 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 85 
 
 with me to your back-office ;" for the soldier 
 feared that some one might enter who would 
 recognize him and carry the tidings to his home 
 prematurely. 
 
 " Mr. Wilkins," he said rapidly, " I wanted 
 to find out if you, too, had thriftily shut down 
 on a soldier s wife. You shall not regret your 
 kindness." 
 
 " Hang it all," broke in Wilkins with com 
 punction, " I haven t been very kind. I ought 
 to have gone and seen your wife and found out 
 how things were, and I meant to, but I ve been 
 so confoundedly busy- " 
 
 " No matter now, I ve not a moment to 
 spare. You must help me to break the news 
 of my return in my own way. I mean they 
 shall have such a Christmas in the little cottage 
 as was never known in this town. You could 
 send a load right over there, couldn t you ?" 
 
 4 Certainly, certainly, " said Wilkins, under 
 the impulse of both business thrift and good 
 will, and a list of tea, coffee, sugar, flour, bread, 
 cakes, apples, etc., was dashed off rapidly ; and 
 Marlow had the satisfaction of seeing the er 
 rand-boy, the two clerks and the proprietor 
 
86 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 himself busily working to fill the order in the 
 shortest possible space of time. 
 
 He next went to a restaurant, a little farther 
 down the street, where he had taken his meals 
 for a short time before he brought his family 
 to town, and was greeted with almost equal 
 surprise and warmth. Marlow cut short all 
 words by his almost feverish naste A huge 
 turkey had just been roasted for. the needs of 
 the coming holiday, and this with a cold ham 
 and a pot of coffee was ordered to be sent in a 
 covered tray within a quarter of an hour. 
 Then a toy-shop was visited, and such a doll 
 purchased ! for tears came into Marlow s eyes 
 whenever he thought of his child s offer to sell 
 her dolly for her mother s sake. 
 
 After selecting a sled for Jamie, and directing 
 that they should be sent at once, he c^uld re 
 strain his impatience no longer, and almost 
 tore back to his station at the cottage window. 
 His wife was placing the meagre little supper 
 on the table, and how poor and scanty it was ! 
 
 " Is that the best the dear soul can do on 
 Christmas eve ?" he groaned. Why, there s 
 scarcely enough for little Sue. Thank God r 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 87 
 
 thy darling, I will sit down with you to a rather 
 different supper before long." 
 
 He bowed his head reverently with his wife 
 as she asked God s blessing, and wondered at 
 her faith. Then he looked and listened again 
 with a heart-hunger which had been growing 
 for months. 
 
 " Do you really think Santa Claus will fill 
 our stockings to-night ?" Sue asked. 
 
 " I think he ll have something i oryou," she 
 replied. There are so many poor little boys 
 and girls in the city that he may not be able 
 to bring very much to you." 
 
 Who is Santa Claus, anyway?" question 
 ed Jamie. 
 
 Tears came into the wife s eyes as she 
 thought of the one who had always remember 
 ed them so kindly as far as his modest means 
 permitted. 
 
 She hesitated in her reply, and before she 
 could decide upon an answer there was a knock 
 at the door. Jamie ran to open it, and started 
 back as a man entered with cap, eyebrows, 
 beard and shaggy coat all white with the fall 
 ing snow. He placed two great baskets of 
 
88 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 provisions on the floor, and said they were for 
 Mrs. Anson Marlow. 
 
 There is some mistake," Mrs. Marlow 
 began, but the children, after staring a mo- 
 merit, shouted, " Santa Glaus ! Santa Glaus !" 
 
 The grocer s man took the unexpected cue 
 instantly, and said, " No mistake, ma am. 
 They are from Santa Glaus ;" and before 
 another word could be spoken he was gone. 
 The face of the grocer s man was not very 
 familiar to Mrs. Marlow, and the snow had 
 disguised him completely. The children had 
 no misgivings, and pounced upon the baskets, 
 and, with exclamations of delight, drew out 
 such articles as they could lift. 
 
 I can t understand it," said the mother, 
 bewildered and almost frightened. 
 
 Why, mamma, it s asplain as day," cried 
 Jamie. :< Didn t he look just like the pictures 
 of Santa Glaus white beard and white eye 
 brows ? Oh, mamma, mamma, here is a great 
 paper of red-cheeked apples;" and he and 
 Susie tugged at it until they dragged it over 
 the side of the basket, when the bottom of the 
 bag came out, and the fruit flecked the floor 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAS TIMES. 89 
 
 with red and gold. Oh, the bliss of picking up 
 those apples ; of comparing one with another 
 of running to the mother and asking which 
 was the biggest and which the reddest and 
 most beautifully streaked ! 
 
 " There must have been some mistake," the 
 poor woman kept murmuring as she examined 
 the baskets and found how liberal and varied 
 was the supply, " for who could or would have 
 been so kind ?" 
 
 " Why, mommie," said little Sue, reproach 
 fully, " Santa Glaus brought em. Haven t you 
 always told us that Santa Claus liked to make 
 us happy ?" 
 
 The long-exiled father felt that he could re 
 strain himself but a few moments longer, and 
 he was glad to see that the rest of his pur 
 chases were at the door. With a look so in 
 tent, and yearning concentration of thought 
 so intense, that it was strange that they could 
 not feel his presence, he bent his eyes once 
 more upon a scene that would imprint itself 
 upon his memory forever. 
 
 But while he stood there another scene came 
 before his mental vision. Oddly enough his 
 
90 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 thought went back to that far-off Southern 
 brookside, where he had lain with his hands in 
 the cool water. He leaned against the win 
 dow-casing, with the Northern snow whirling 
 about his head, but he breathed the balmy 
 breath of a Southern forest, the wood-thrush 
 sang in the trees overhead , and he could so 
 it seemed to him actually feel the water-worn 
 pebbles under his palms as he watched the 
 life-blood ebbing from his side. Then there 
 was a dim consciousness of rough but kindly 
 arms bearing him through the underbrush, 
 and, more distinctly, the memory of weary 
 weeks of convalescence in a mountaineer s 
 cabin. All these scenes of peril, before he 
 finally reached the Union lines, passed before 
 him as he stood in a species of trance beside 
 the window of his home. 
 
 The half-grown boys sent from the restau 
 rant and toy-shop could not be mistaken for 
 Santa Claus even by the credulous fancy of 
 the children, and Mrs. Marlow stepped forward 
 eagerly, and said : 
 
 " I am sure there is some mistake. You are 
 certainly leaving these articles at the wrong 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 91 
 
 house." The faces of the children began to 
 grow anxious and troubled also, for even their 
 faith could not accept such marvellous good 
 fortune. Jamie looked at the sled with a kind 
 of awe, and saw at a glance that it was hand 
 somer than any in the street. " Mr. Lansing, 
 a wealthy man, lives a little farther on," 
 Mrs. Marlow began to urge, " and these things 
 must be meant 
 
 "Isn t your name Mrs. Anson Marlow?" 
 asked the boy from the restaurant. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 4 Then I must do as I ve been told ;" and 
 he opened his tray and placed the turkey, the 
 ham and the coffee on the table. 
 
 " If he s right, I m right, too," said he of 
 the toy-shop. Them was my directions ;" 
 and they were both about to depart when the 
 woman sprang forward and gasped : 
 
 11 Stay!" 
 
 She clasped her hands and trembled violently. 
 
 " Who sent these things?" she faltered. 
 
 " Our bosses, mum," replied the boy from 
 the restaurant, hesitatingly. 
 
 She sprang toward him, seized his arm, and 
 
92 CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES. 
 
 looked imploringly into his face. " Who 
 ordered them sent ?" she asked, in a low, pas 
 sionate voice. 
 
 The young fellow began to smile, and stam 
 mered awkwardly, " I don t think I m to tell." 
 
 She released his arm, and glanced around 
 with a look of intense expectation. 
 
 " Oh, oh !" she gasped, with quick, short 
 sobs, " can it be Then she sprang to the 
 door, opened it, and looked out into the black, 
 stormy night. What seemed a shadow rushed 
 toward her, she felt herself falling, but strong 
 arms caught and bore her, half fainting, to a 
 lounge within the room. 
 
 Many have died from sorrow, but few from 
 joy. With her husband s arms around her 
 Mrs. Marlow s weakness soon passed. In re 
 sponse to his deep, earnest tones of soothing 
 and entreaty, she speedily opened her eyes and 
 gave him a smile so full of content and unut 
 terable joy that all anxiety in her behalf began 
 to pass from his mind. 
 
 Yes," she said softly, " I can live now. It 
 seems as if a new and stronger life were com 
 ing back with every breath." 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE IN V/AR TIMES. 93 
 
 The young fellows who had been the bear 
 ers of the gifts were so touched that they drew 
 their rough sleeves across their eyes as they 
 hastened away, closing; the door on the happi 
 est family in the city. 
 
THREE THAJ^KSaiYESTG KISSES. 
 
III. 
 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 IT was the day before Thanksgiving. The 
 brief, cloudy November afternoon was fast 
 merging into early twilight. The trees, now 
 gaunt and bare, creaked and groaned in the 
 passing gale, and clashed their icy branches 
 together with sounds sadly unlike the slum 
 berous rustle of their foliage in June. And that 
 same foliage is now flying before the wind, 
 swept hither and thither, like exiles driven by 
 disaster from the moorings of home ; at times 
 finding a brief abiding-place, and then carried 
 forward to parts unknown by circumstances 
 beyond control. The street leading 1 into the 
 village is almost deserted, and the few who 
 come and go hasten on with fluttering gar 
 ments, head bent down, and a shivering sense 
 
90 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 of discomfort. The fields are bare and brown, 
 and the landscape on the uplands rising in the 
 distance would be utterly sombre did not green 
 fields of grain, as childlike faith in wintry age, 
 relieve the gloomy outlook and prophecy of 
 the sunshine and golden harvest of a new year 
 and life. 
 
 But bleak November found no admittance 
 in Mrs. Alford s cosey parlor. Though, as usual, 
 it was kept as the room for state occasions, 
 it was not a stately room. It was furnished 
 with elegance and good taste ; but, what was 
 better, the genial home atmosphere from the 
 rest of the house had invaded it, and one did 
 not feel, on entering it from the free-and-easy 
 sitting-room, as if passing from a sunny climate 
 to the icebergs of the Pole. Therefore I am 
 sure my reader will follow me gladly out of 
 the biting, boisterous wind into the homelike 
 apartment ; and, as we stand in fancy before 
 the glowing grate, we will make the acquaint 
 ance of the May-day creature who is its sole 
 occupant. 
 
 Elsie Alford, just turning seventeen, appears 
 younger than her years warranted. Some 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 99 
 
 girls carry the child far into their teens, and 
 blend the mirthful innocence of infancy with 
 the richer, fuller life of budding womanhood. 
 This was true of Elsie. Hers was not the 
 forced exotic bloom of fashionable life ; but 
 she was like one of the native blossoms of her 
 New England home, having all the delicacy 
 and at the same time hardiness of the wind- 
 flower. She was also as shy and easily agitat 
 ed ; and yet, like the flower she resembled, 
 well rooted among the rocks of principle and 
 truth. She was the youngest and the pet of 
 the household, and yet the " petting" was not 
 of that kind that develops selfishness and wil- 
 fulness ; but, rather, a genial sunlight of love 
 falling upon her as a focus from the entire 
 family. They always spoke of her as " Little 
 Sis," or the " child." And a child it seemed 
 she would ever be, with her kittenish ways, 
 quick impulses, and swiftly alternating moods. 
 As she developed into womanly proportions, 
 her grave, business-like father began to have 
 misgivings. After one of her wild sallies at the 
 table, where she kept every one on the qui vive 
 by her unrestrained chatter, Mr. Alford said : 
 
100 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 " Elsie, will you ever learn to be a woman ?" 
 
 Looking mischievously at him through her 
 curls, she replied : " Yes ; I might if I became 
 as old as Mrs. Methusaleh." 
 
 They finally concluded to leave Elsie s cure 
 to care and trouble two certain elements of 
 earthly life ; and yet her experience of either 
 would be slight, indeed, could their love have 
 shielded her. 
 
 But it would not be exactly care or trouble 
 that would sober Elsie into a thoughtful 
 woman, as our story will show. 
 
 Some of the November wind seemed in her 
 curling hair upon this fateful day ; but her 
 fresh young April face was a pleasant contrast 
 to the scene presented from the window, to 
 which she kept flitting with increasing fre 
 quency. It certainly was not the dismal and 
 darkening landscape that so intensely interested 
 her. The light of a great and coming pleasure 
 is in her face, and her manner is one of rest 
 less, eager expectancy. Little wonder. Her 
 pet brother, the one next older than herself, a 
 promising young theologue, is coming home to 
 spend Thanksgiving. Tt was time he appeared. 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KlSSS^ J ,;io 
 
 The shriek of the locomotive, had i 
 the arrival of the train, and her ardent little 
 spirit could scarcely endure the moments in 
 tervening before she would almost concentrate 
 herself into a rapturous kiss and embrace of 
 welcome, for the favorite brother had been ab 
 sent several long months. 
 
 Her mother called her away for a few 
 moments, for the good old lady was busy, in 
 deed, knowing well that merely full hearts 
 would not answer for a New England Thanks 
 giving. But the moment Elsie was free she 
 darted back to the window, just in time to 
 catch a glimpse, as she supposed, of her 
 brother s well-remembered dark gray overcoat, 
 as he was ascending the front steps. 
 
 A tall, grave-looking young man, an utter 
 stranger to the place and family, had his hand 
 upon the door-bell ; but before he could ring 
 it the door flew open, and a lovely young creat 
 ure precipitated herself on his neck, like a mis 
 sile fired from heavenly battlements, and a kiss 
 was pressed upon his lips that he afterward ad 
 mitted to have felt even to the " toes of his 
 boots." 
 
102 rilXEE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 But hi$ startled .manner caused her to lift her 
 face from under his side-whiskers ; and, though 
 the dusk was deepening, she could see that her 
 arms were around an utter stranger. She re 
 coiled from him with a bound, and trembling 
 like a wind-flower, indeed, her large blue eyes 
 dilated at the intruder with a dismay beyond 
 words. How the awkward scene would have 
 ended it were hard to tell, had not the hearty 
 voice of one coming up the path called out : 
 
 " Hi, there, you witch ! who is that you are 
 kissing, and then standing off to see the 
 effect?" 
 
 There was no mistake this time ; so, impel 
 led by love, shame, and fear of " that horrid 
 man," she fled, half sobbing, to his arms. 
 
 " No, he isn t a horrid man, either," whis 
 pered her brother, laughing. " He is a class 
 mate of mine. Why, Stanhope, how are you ? 
 I did not know that you and my sister were so 
 well acquainted," he added, half banteringly 
 and half curiously, for as yet he did not fully 
 understand the scene. 
 
 The hall lamp, shining through the open 
 door, had revealed the features of the young 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES, 103 
 
 man (whom we must now call Mr. Stanhope), 
 so that his classmate had recognized him. 
 His first impulse had been to slip away in the 
 darkness, and so escape from his awkward pre 
 dicament ; but George Alford s prompt address 
 prevented this and brought him to bay. He 
 was painfully embarrassed, but managed to 
 stammer : 
 
 " I was taken for you, I think. I never 
 had the pleasure honor of meeting your 
 sister." 
 
 " Oh, ho ! I see now. My wild little sister 
 kissed before she looked. Well, that was your 
 good fortune. I could keep two Thanksgiving 
 days on the strength of such a kiss as that," 
 cried the light-hearted student, shaking the 
 diffident, shrinking Mr. Stanhope warmly by 
 the hand. You will hardly need a formal 
 introduction now. But, bless me, where is 
 she ? Has the November wind blown her 
 away ?" 
 
 " I think your sist , the lady, passed 
 around to the side entrance. I fear I have 
 annoyed her sadly." 
 
 " Nonsense ! A good joke. Something to 
 
104 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 tease the little witch about. But come in, 
 I m forgetting the sacred rites." 
 
 And, before the bewildered Mr. Stanhope 
 could help himself, he was half dragged into 
 the lighted hall, and the door shut between 
 him and escape. 
 
 In the mean time, Elsie, like a whirlwind, 
 had burst into the kitchen, where Mrs. Alford 
 was superintending some savory dishes, ex 
 claiming : 
 
 " Oh ! mother, George has come and has a 
 horrid man with him, who nearly devoured 
 me." 
 
 And, with this rather feminine mode of stat 
 ing the case, she darted into the dusky, fire- 
 lighted parlor, from whence, unseen, she could 
 reconnoitre the hall. Mr. Stanhope was just 
 saying : 
 
 " Please let me go. I have stood between 
 you and your welcome long enough. I shall 
 only be a marplot ; and besides, as an utter 
 stranger, I have no right to stay." To all of 
 which Elsie devoutly whispered to herself, 
 " Amen." 
 
 But Mrs. Alford now appeared, and, after a 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 105 
 
 warm, motherly greeting to her son, turned in 
 genial courtesy toward his friend, as she sup 
 posed. 
 
 George was so happy that he wished every 
 one else to be the same. The comical episode 
 attending Mr. Stanhope s unexpected appear 
 ance just hit his frolicsome mood, and promis 
 ed to be a source of endless merriment if he 
 could only keep his classmate over the coming 
 holiday. Moreover, he long had wished to 
 become better acquainted with this young 
 man, whose manner at the seminary had deep 
 ly interested him. So he said : 
 
 Mother, this is Mr. Stanhope, a class 
 mate of mine. I wish you would help me per 
 suade him to stay." 
 
 "Why, certainly, I supposed you expected 
 to stay with us, of course," said Mrs. Alford, 
 heartily. 
 
 Mr. Stanhope looked ready to sink through 
 the floor, and his naturally pale face and even 
 his neck were crimson. 
 
 " I do assure you, madam," he urged, " it 
 is all a mistake. I am not an invited guest. I 
 was merely calling on a little matter of busi- 
 
lo6 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 ness, when " and there he stopped. George 
 exploded into a hearty, uncontrollable laugh ; 
 while Elsie, in the darkness, shook her little 
 fist at the stranger, who hastened to add : 
 14 Please let me bid you good-evening. I have 
 not the slightest claim on your hospitality." 
 
 "Where are you staying?" asked Mrs. 
 Alford, a little mystified. " We would like 
 you to spend at least part of the time with 
 us." 
 
 " I do not expect to be here very long. I 
 have a room at the hotel." 
 
 "Now, look here, Stanhope," cried George, 
 barring all egress by planting his back against 
 the door, " do you take me, a half-fledged 
 theologue, for a heathen ? Do you suppose 
 that I could be such a churl as to let a class^ 
 mate stay at our dingy, forlorn little tavern and 
 eat hash on Thanksgiving Day ? I could never 
 look you in the face at recitation again. Have 
 some consideration for my peace of mind, and 
 I am sure you will find our home quite as 
 endurable as anything Mr. Starks can pro 
 vide." 
 
 " Oh ! as to that, from even the slight 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 107 
 
 glimpse that I have had, this seems more like 
 a home than anything I have known for many 
 years ; but I cannot feel it right that I, an un 
 expected stranger 
 
 "Come, come! No more of that. You 
 know what is written about entertaining 
 strangers ; so that is your strongest claim. 
 Moreover, that text works both ways some 
 times, and the stranger angel finds himself 
 among angels. My old mother here, if she 
 does weigh well on toward two hundred, is 
 more like one than anything I have yet seen. 
 And Elsie, if not an angel, is, at least, part 
 witch and part fairy. But you need not fear 
 ghostly entertainment from mother s larder. 
 As you are a Christian, and not a Pagan, no 
 more of this reluctance. Indeed, nolens 
 volens, I shall not permit you to go out into 
 this November storm to-night ;" and Elsie, tc 
 her dismay, saw him led up to the "spare 
 room" with a sort of hospitable violence. 
 
 With flaming cheeks and eyes half full of 
 indignant tears, she now made onslaught on 
 her mother, who had returned to the kitchen, 
 ;vhere she was making preparations for a sup- 
 
loS THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 per that might almost answer for the dinner 
 the next day. 
 
 "Mother, mother," she exclaimed, "how 
 could you keep that disagreeable stranger ! 
 He will spoil our Thanksgiving." 
 
 "Why, child, what is the matter?" said 
 Mrs. Alford, raising her eyes in surprise to 
 her daughter s face, that looked like a red 
 moon through the mist of savory vapors rising 
 from the ample cooking-stove. I don t un 
 derstand you. Why should not your brother s 
 classmate add to the pleasure of our Thanks- 
 
 " Well, perhaps if we had expected him, if 
 he had come in some other way, and we knew 
 more about him 
 
 " Bless you, child, what a formalist you 
 have become. You stand on a fine point of 
 etiquette, as if it were the broad foundation of 
 hospitality ; while only last week you wanted 
 a ragged tramp, who had every appearance of 
 being a thief, to stay all night. Your brother 
 thinks it a special providence that his friend 
 should have turned up so unexpectedly." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" sighed Elsie. "If that is 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 109 
 
 what the doctrine of special providence means, 
 I shall need a new confession of faith." Then 
 a sudden thought occurred to her, and she 
 vanished, while her mother smiled, saying : 
 
 " What a queer child she is, to be sure." 
 
 A moment later Elsie gave a sharp knock at 
 the spare-room door, and then in a second 
 she was in the farther end of the dark hall. 
 George put his head out. 
 
 "Come here," she whispered. Are you 
 sure it s you ?" she added, holding him off at 
 arm s length. 
 
 His response was such a tempest of kisses 
 and embraces that in her nervous state she was 
 quite panic-stricken. 
 
 "George," she gasped, "have mercy on 
 me." 
 
 "I only wished to show you how he felt, 
 so you would have some sympathy for him." 
 
 " If you don t stop," said the almost des 
 perate girl, " I will shut myself up and not ap 
 pear till he is gone. I will any way, if you 
 don t make me a solemn promise." 
 
 " Leave out the solemn. 
 
 " No, I won t. Upon your word and 
 
no THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 honor, promise never to tell what has happen 
 ed my mistake, I mean." 
 
 Oh ! Elsie, it s too good to keep," laugh 
 ed George. 
 
 " Now, George, if you tell," sobbed Elsie, 
 " you ll spoil my holiday, your visit, and every 
 thing." 
 
 " If you feel that way, you foolish child, of 
 course I won t tell. Indeed, I suppose I 
 should not, for Stanhope seems half frightened 
 out of his wits also." 
 
 11 Serves him right ; though I doubt wheth 
 er he has many to lose," said Elsie, spite 
 fully. 
 
 Well, I will do my best to keep in," said 
 George, soothingly, and stroking her curls. 
 " But you will let it all out ; you see. The 
 idea of you keeping anything with your April 
 face !" 
 
 Elsie acted upon the hint, and went to her 
 room in order to remove all traces of agitation 
 before the supper-bell should summon her to 
 meet the dreaded stranger. 
 
 In the mean time, Mr. Alford and James, 
 the second son, had come up from the village, 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. ill 
 
 where they had a thriving business. They greet 
 ed George s friend so cordially that it went 
 some way toward putting the diffident youth 
 at his ease. But he dreaded meeting Elsie 
 again quite as much as she did him. 
 
 "Who is this Mr. Stanhope?" his parents 
 asked, as they drew George aside for a little 
 private talk after his long absence. 
 
 :< Well, he is a classmate with whom I have 
 long wished to get better acquainted. But he 
 is so shy and retiring that I have made little 
 progress. He came from another seminary, 
 and entered our class in this the middle year. 
 No one seems to know much about him ; and, 
 indeed, he has shunned all intimacies and de 
 votes himself wholly to his books. The reci 
 tation-room is the one place where he appears 
 well ; for there he speaks out, as if forgetting 
 himself, or, rather, losing himself in some truth 
 under contemplation. Sometimes he will ask 
 a question that wakes up both class and pro 
 fessor ; but at other times it seems difficult to 
 pierce the shell of his reserve or diffidence. 
 And yet, from little things I have seen, I know 
 that he has a good, warm heart, and the work- 
 
112 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 ing of his mind in the recitation-room fasci 
 nates me. Further than this I know little about 
 him ; but have just learned, from his explana 
 tion as to his unexpected appearance at our 
 door, that he is very poor, and purposed to 
 spend his holiday vacation as agent for a new 
 magazine that is offering liberal premiums. 
 I think his poverty is one of the reasons why 
 he has so shrank from companionship with the 
 other students. He thinks he ought to go out 
 and continue his efforts to-night." 
 
 "This stormy night!" ejaculated kindly 
 Mrs. Alford. " It would be barbarous." 
 
 " Certainly it would, mother. We must not 
 let him. But you must all be considerate, for 
 he seems excessively diffident and sensitive ; 
 and besides but no matter." 
 
 " No fear but that we will soon make him 
 at home. And it s a pleasure to entertain 
 people who are not surfeited with attention. I 
 don t understand Elsie, however, for she seems 
 to have formed a violent prejudice against 
 him. And from the nature of herann^unce- 
 ment of his presence I gathered that he was a 
 rather forward young man." 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. n^ 
 
 There was a twinkle in George s eye ; but 
 he merely said : 
 
 " Elsie is full of moods and tenses ; but her 
 kind little heart is always the same, and that 
 will bring her around all right." 
 
 They were soon after marshalled to the 
 supper-room, and Elsie slipped in among the 
 others ; but was so stately and demure and 
 with her curls brushed down so straight that 
 you would scarcely have known her. Her 
 father caught his pet around the waist, and 
 was about to introduce her, when George 
 hastened to say, with the solemnity of a fu 
 neral, that Elsie and Mr. Stanhope had met 
 before. 
 
 Elsie repented the promise she had wrung 
 from her brother, for any amount of badinage 
 would be better than this depressing formality. 
 She took her seat, not daring to look at the 
 obnoxious guest ; and the family noticed with 
 surprise that they had never seen the little 
 maiden so quenched and abashed before. But 
 George good-naturedly tried to make the con 
 versation general, so as to give them time to 
 recover themselves. 
 
114 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 Elsie soon ventured to steal shy looks at 
 Mr. Stanhope, and, with her usual quickness, 
 discovered that he was more in terror of her 
 than she of him, and she exulted in the fact. 
 
 " I ll punish him well, if I get a chance," 
 she thought, with a certain phase of the femi 
 nine sense of justice. But the sadness of his 
 face quite disarmed her when her mother, in 
 well-meant kindness, asked : 
 
 Where is your home located, Mr. Stan 
 hope ?" 
 
 " In the seminary, " he answered, in rather a 
 low tone. 
 
 4 You don t mean to say that you have no 
 better one than a forlorn cell in Dogma Hall ?" 
 exclaimed George, earnestly. 
 
 Mr. Stanhope crimsoned, and then grew 
 pale, but tried to say, lightly : " An orphan 
 of my size and years is not a very moving ob 
 ject of sympathy ; but one might well find it 
 difficult not to break the Tenth Commandment 
 while seeing how you are surrounded." 
 
 Elsie was vexed at her disposition to relent 
 toward him ; she so hardened her face, how 
 ever, that James rallied her. 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 115 
 
 " Why, Puss, what is the matter ? Yours is 
 the most unpromising Thanksgiving phiz I 
 have seen to-day. Count your marcies. " 
 
 But Elsie blushed so violently and Mr. 
 Stanhope looked so distressed that James 
 finished his supper in puzzled silence, thinking, 
 however : What has come over the little 
 witch ? For a wonder, she seems to have met 
 a man that she is afraid of ; but the joke is, he 
 seems even more afraid of her." 
 
 In the social parlor some of the stiffness 
 "wore off ; but Elsie and Mr. Stanhope kept on 
 opposite sides of the room and had very little 
 to say to each other. Motherly Mrs. Alford 
 drew the young man out sufficiently, however, 
 to become deeply interested in him. 
 
 By the next morning time for thought had led 
 him to feel that he must trespass on their hos 
 pitality no longer. Moreover, he plainly rec 
 ognized that his presence was an oppression 
 and restraint upon Elsie, and he was very 
 sorry that he had stayed at all. But when he 
 made known his purpose the family would not 
 listen to it. 
 
 ;< I should feel dreadfully hurt if you left us 
 
n6 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 now," said Mrs. Alford, so decidedly that he 
 was in a dilemma, and stole a timid look 
 toward Elsie, who at once guessed his motive 
 in going away. Her kind heart got the better 
 of her, and her face relented in a sudden reas 
 suring smile. Then she turned hastily away. 
 Only George saw and understood the little 
 side scene ; but Mr. Stanhope was induced to 
 remain. Then Elsie, in her quickly varying 
 moods, was vexed at herself, and became more 
 cold and distant than ever. "He will regard 
 me as only a pert, forward miss ; but I will 
 teach him better," she thought, and she as 
 tonished the family more and more by a state- 
 liness utterly unlike herself. Mr. Stanhope 
 sincerely regretted that he not broken away, 
 in spite of the others ; but, in order not to 
 seem vacillating, resolved to stay till the fol 
 lowing morning, even though he departed bur 
 dened with the thought that he had spoiled the 
 day for one of the family. Things had now 
 gone so far that leaving might only lead to ex 
 planations and more general annoyances, for 
 George had intimated that the little mistake of 
 the previous evening should remain a secret. 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 117 
 
 And yet he sincerely wished she would relent 
 toward him, for she could not make her sweet 
 little face repellent, and the kiss she gave him 
 still seemed to tingle in his very soul, while her 
 last smile was like a ray of warmest sunshine. 
 But her face, never designed to be severe, was 
 averted. 
 
 After having heard the affairs of the nation 
 discussed in a sound, scriptural manner, they 
 all sat down to a dinner such as had never 
 blessed poor Mr. Stanhope s vision before. 
 A married son and daughter returned after 
 church and half a dozen grandchildren en 
 livened the occasion. And there was need 
 of them, for Elsie, usually in a state of wild 
 effervescence upon such occasions, was now 
 demure and comparatively silent. The chil 
 dren, with whom she was accustomed to romp 
 like one of them, were perplexed indeed ; 
 and only the intense excitement of a Thanks 
 giving dinner diverted their minds from Aunt 
 Elsie, so sadly changed. She was conscious 
 that all were noting her absent manner, 
 and this embarrassed and vexed her more ; 
 and yet she seemed under a miserable par- 
 
Ii8 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 alysis, that she could neither explain nor 
 escape. 
 
 44 If we had only laughed it off at first," she 
 groaned to herself; "but now the whole 
 thing grows more absurd and disagreeable 
 every moment." 
 
 Why, Elise," said her father, banteringly, 
 " you doubted the other day whether Mrs. 
 Methusaleh s age would ever sober you ; and 
 yet I think that good old lady would have 
 looked more genial on Thanksgiving Day. 
 What is the matter?" 
 
 " I was thinking of the sermon," she said. 
 
 Amid the comic elevation of eyebrows, 
 George said, slyly : 
 
 "Tell us the text." 
 
 Overwhelmed with confusion, she darted a 
 reproachful glance toward him, and mut 
 tered : 
 
 " I did not say anything about the text." 
 
 * Well, tell us about the sermon then," 
 laughed James. 
 
 "No," said Elsie, sharply. "I ll quote, 
 you a text. Eat, drink, and be merry, and 
 let me alone." 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. iifr 
 
 They saw that, for some reason, she could 
 not bear teasing, and that such badinage 
 troubled Mr. Stanhope also. But George 
 came gallantly to the rescue, and the dinner 
 party grew so merry that Elsie thawed percep 
 tibly and Stanhope was beguiled into several 
 witty speeches. At each one Elsie opened her 
 eyes in a wider and growing appreciation. At 
 last, when they rose from their coffee, she 
 came to the surprising conclusion : 
 
 "Why, he is not stupid and bad-looking 
 after all." 
 
 George was bent on breaking the ice 
 between them, and so proposed that the 
 younger members of the family party should 
 go up a swollen stream and see the fall. But 
 Elsie flanked herself with a sister-in-law on one 
 >ide and a niece on the other, and Stanhope 
 was so diffident that nothing but downright en 
 couragement would bring him to her side. So 
 George was almost in despair. Elsie s eyes 
 had been conveying favorable impressions to 
 her reluctant mind throughout the walk, and 
 she sincerely regretted that such an absurd 
 barrier had grown up between them ; but could 
 
120 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 not for the life of her, especially before others, 
 do anything to break the awkward spell. 
 
 At last they were on their return, and were 
 all grouped together on a little bluff, watch 
 ing the water pour foamingly through a narrow 
 gorge. 
 
 " Oh ! see," cried Elsie, suddenly pointing 
 to the opposite bank, " what beautiful moss 
 that is over there. It is just the kind I have 
 been wanting. Oh, dear ! there isn t a bridge 
 within half a mile." 
 
 Stanhope glanced around a moment, and 
 then said, gallantly : " I will get you the moss, 
 Miss Alford." And they saw that in some in 
 conceivable way he intended crossing where 
 they stood. The gorge was much too wide for 
 the most vigorous leap ; so Elsie exclaimed, 
 eagerly : 
 
 41 Oh ! please don t take any risk. What is 
 a little moss ?" 
 
 I say, Stanhope," remonstrated George, 
 seriously, " it would be no laughing matter if 
 you should fall in there." 
 
 But Stanhope only smiled, threw off his over 
 coat, and buttoned his undercoat closely 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 121 
 
 around him. George groaned to himself, 
 " This will be worse than the kissing scrape," 
 and was about to lay a restraining grasp upon 
 his friend. But he slipped away, and lightly 
 overhanded up a tall, slender sapling on the 
 edge of the bank, and the whole party gathered 
 round in breathless expectation. Having 
 reached its slender, swaying top, he threw him 
 self out on the land side, and it at once bent 
 to the ground with his weight, but without snap 
 ping, showing that it was tough and fibrous. 
 Holding firmly to the top, he gave a strong 
 spring, which, with the spring of the bent 
 sapling, sent him well over the gorge on the 
 firm ground beyond. 
 
 There was a round of applause from the little 
 group he had just left, in which Elsie joined 
 heartily ; and her eyes were glowing with ad 
 miration, for when was not power and daring 
 captivating to a woman ? Then, in sudden 
 alarm and forgetfulness of her former coolness, 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 " But how will you get back ?" 
 4 This is my bridge," he replied, smiling 
 brightly across to her and holding on to the 
 
122 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 slender young tree. " You perceive that I was 
 brought up in the country." 
 
 And he tied the sapling down to a root with 
 a handkerchief, and then proceeded to fill 
 another with moss. 
 
 As George saw Elsie s face while she watched 
 Stanhope gather the coveted trifle, he chuckled 
 to himself : 
 
 The ice is broken between them now." 
 
 But Stanhope had insecurely fastened the 
 sapling down. The strain upon the knot was 
 too severe, and suddenly the young tree flew 
 up and stood erect but quivering, with his 
 handkerchief fluttering in its top as a symbol 
 of defeat. There was an exclamation of dis 
 may, and Elsie again asked, with real anxiety 
 in her tone : 
 
 " How will you get back now ?" 
 
 Stanhope shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I confess lam defeated, for there is no like 
 sapling on this side ; but I have the moss, 
 and can join you at the bridge below, it noth 
 ing better offers." 
 
 "George," said Elsie, indignantly, "don t 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 123 
 
 go away and leave Mr. Stanhope s handker 
 chief in that tree." 
 
 " Bless you, child," cried George, mischiev 
 ously, and leading the way down the path, " I 
 can t climb any more than a pumpkin. You 
 will have to go back with him after it, or let it 
 wave as a memento of his gallantry on your 
 behalf." 
 
 "If I can only manage to throw them 
 together without any embarrassing third parties 
 present the ridiculous restraint they are under 
 will soon vanish," he thought ; and so he 
 hastened his steps, and the rest trooped after 
 him, while Stanhope made his way with diffi 
 culty on the opposite bank, where there was no 
 path. His progress, therefore, was slow ; and 
 Elsie saw that if she did not linger he would 
 be left behind Common politeness forbade 
 this, and so she soon found herself alone, car 
 rying his overcoat on one 4>ank, and he keep 
 ing pace with her on the other. She com 
 forted herself at first with the thought that, 
 with the brawling, deafening stream between 
 them, there would be no chance for embarrass- 
 
124 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 ing conversation. But soon her sympathies be 
 came aroused as she saw him toilsomely mak 
 ing his way over the rocks and through the 
 tangled thickets ; and, as she could not speak 
 to him, she smiled her encouragement so 
 often that she felt it would be impossible to 
 go back to her old reserve. 
 
 Stanhope now came to a little opening in the 
 brush. The cleared ground sloped evenly 
 toward the stream, and its current was divided 
 by a large rock. He hailed the opportunity 
 here offered with delight, for he was very anx 
 ious to speak to her before they should join the 
 others. So he startled Elsie by walking out 
 into the clearing, away from the stream. 
 
 "Well! I declare; that s cool, to go and 
 leave me alone without a word," she thought. 
 
 But she was almost terror-stricken to see him 
 turn and dart toward the torrent like an arrow. 
 With a long, flying leap, he landed on the rock 
 in the midst of the stream ; and then, without 
 a second s hesitation, with the impetus already 
 acquired, sprang for the solid ground where 
 she stood, struck it, wavered, and would have 
 fallen backward into the water had not she, 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 125 
 
 quick as thought, stepped forward and given 
 him her hand. 
 
 You have saved me from a ducking, if not 
 worse," he said, giving the little rescuing hand 
 a warm pressure. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed she, panting, "please 
 don t do any more dreadful things. I shall be 
 careful how I make any wishes in your hearing 
 again." 
 
 I am sorry to hear you say that," he re 
 plied. And then there was an awkward 
 silence. 
 
 Elsie could think of nothing better than to 
 refer to the handkerchief they had left be 
 hind. 
 
 " Will you wait for me till I run and get 
 it ?" he asked. 
 
 " I will go back with you, if you will permit 
 me," she said, timidly. 
 
 ; Indeed, I could not ask so much of you as 
 that." 
 
 " And yet you could about the same as risk 
 your neck to gratify a whim of mine," she said, 
 more gratefully than she intended. 
 
 " Please do not think," he replied, earnestly, 
 
126 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 11 that I have been practising cheap heroics. 
 As I said, I was a country boy, and in my early 
 home thought nothing of doing such things." 
 But even the brief reference to that vanished 
 home caused him to sigh deeply, and Elsie 
 gave him a wistful look of sympathy. 
 
 For a few moments they walked on in 
 silence. Then Mr. Stanhope turned, and, 
 with some hesitation, said : 
 
 " Miss Alford, I did very wrong to stay after 
 after last evening. But my better judgment 
 was borne down by invitations so cordial that 
 I hardly knew how to resist them. At the 
 same time I now realize that I should have 
 done so. Indeed I would go away at once, 
 would not such a course only make matters 
 worse. And yet, after receiving so much kind 
 ness from your family, more than has blessed 
 me for many long years for since my dear 
 mother died I have been quite alone in the 
 world I feel I cannot go away without some 
 assurance or proof that you will forgive me for 
 being such a marplot in your holiday. 
 
 Elsie s vexation with herself now knew no 
 bounds, and she stopped in the path, deter- 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 127 
 
 mining that she would clear up matters, cost 
 what it might. 
 
 " Mr. Stanhope," she said, " will you grant 
 a request that will contain such assurance, or, 
 rather, will show you that I am heartily 
 ashamed of my foolish course ? Will you not 
 spend next Thanksgiving with us, and give 
 me a chance to retrieve myself from first to 
 last?" 
 
 His face brightened wonderfully, as he 
 replied : " I will only be too glad to do so, if 
 you truly wish it." 
 
 " I do wish it," she said, earnestly. What 
 must you think of me?" (His eyes then ex 
 pressed much admiration ; but hers were fixed 
 on the ground and half filled with tears of vex 
 ation.) Then, with a pretty humility that was 
 exquisite in its simplicity and artlessness, she 
 added : 
 
 " You have noticed at home that they call 
 me child ; and, indeed, I am little more than 
 one, and now see that I have behaved like a 
 very silly and naughty one toward you. I have 
 trampled on every principle of hospitality, 
 kindness, and good breeding. I have no pa 
 
128 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 tience with myself, and I wish another chance 
 to show that I can do better. I 
 
 Oh i Miss Alford, please do not judge 
 yourself so harshly and unjustly," interrupted 
 Stanhope. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" sighed Elsie, " I m so sorry 
 for what happened last night. We all might 
 have had such a good time." 
 
 " Well, then," said Stanhope, demurely, 
 " I suppose I ought to be also." 
 
 And do you mean to say that you are 
 not?" she asked, turning suddenly upon him. 
 
 "Oh! well, certainly, for your sake," he 
 said, with rising color. 
 
 " But not for your own ?" she asked, with 
 almost the naivete of a child. 
 
 He turned away with a perplexed laugh, 
 and replied: "Really, Miss Alford, you are 
 worse than the Catechism." 
 
 She looked at him with a half-amused, half- 
 surprised expression and the thought occurred 
 to her for the first time that it might not have 
 been so disagreeable to him, after all ; and 
 somehow this thought was quite a relief to her, 
 But she said : 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 129 
 
 " I thought you would regard me as a hoy 
 den of the worst species." 
 
 44 Because you kissed your brother? I have 
 never for a moment forgotten that it was only 
 your misfortune that I was not he." 
 
 " I should have remembered that it was not 
 your fault. But here is your handkerchief, fly 
 ing like a flag of truce. So let bygones be by 
 gones. My terms are that you come again 
 another year, and give me a chance to enter 
 tain my brother s friend as a sister ought." 
 
 " I am only too glad to submit to them," he 
 eagerly replied ; and then added, so ardently 
 as to deepen the roses already in her cheeks : 
 44 If such are your punishments, Miss Alford, 
 how delicious must be your favors !" 
 
 By common consent, the subject was drop 
 ped ; and, with tongues released from awk 
 ward restraint, they chatted freely together, 
 till in the early twilight they reached her 
 home. The moment they entered George ex- 
 ultingly saw that the skies were serene. 
 
 But Elsie would never be the frolicsome 
 child of the past again. As she surprised the 
 family at dinner, so now at supper they could 
 
130 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 scarcely believe that the elegant, graceful 
 young lady was the witch of yesterday. She 
 had resolved with all her soul to try to win 
 some place in Mr. Stanhope s respect before 
 he departed, and never did a little maiden suc 
 ceed better. 
 
 In the evening they had music, and Mr. 
 Stanhope pleased them all with his fine tenor, 
 while Elsie delighted him by her clear bird- 
 like voice. So the hours fled away. 
 
 You think better of the horrid man, little 
 Sis," said George, as he kissed her good-night. 
 
 " I was the horrid one," said Elsie, penitent 
 ly. "I can never forgive myself my absurd 
 conduct. But he has promised to come again 
 next Thanksgiving, and give me a chance to do 
 better. So don t you fail to bring him." 
 
 George gave a long, low whistle, and then 
 said : " Oh ! ah ! Seems to me you are com 
 ing on, for an innocent. Are we to get mixed 
 up again in the twilight ?" 
 
 14 Nonsense !" said Elsie, with a peony face, 
 and she slammed her door upon him. 
 
 The next morning, the young man took his 
 leave, and Elsie s last words were : 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 131 
 
 " Mr. Stanhope, remember your prom 
 ise." 
 
 And he did remember more than that, for 
 this brief visit had enshrined a sweet, girlish 
 face within his heart of hearts, and he no 
 longer felt lonely and orphaned. He arid 
 George became the closest friends, and mes 
 sages from the New England home came to 
 him with increasing frequency, which he return 
 ed with prodigal interest. It also transpired 
 that he occasionally wrote for the papers, and 
 Elsie insisted that these should be sent to her ; 
 while he of course wrote much better with the 
 certainty that she would be his critic. Thus, 
 though separated, they daily, became better ac 
 quainted, and during the year George found it 
 not very difficult to induce his friend to make 
 several visits. 
 
 But it was with joy that seemed almost too 
 rich for earthly experience that he found him 
 self walking up the village street with George 
 the ensuing Thanksgiving eve. Elsie was at 
 the door, and he pretended to be disconsolate 
 that his reception was not the same as on the 
 previous year. Indeed she had to endure not 
 
132 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 a little chaffing, for her mistake was a family 
 joke now. 
 
 It was a peerless Thanksgiving eve and day 
 one of the sunlighted heights of human hap 
 piness. 
 
 After dinner they all again took a walk up the 
 brawling stream, and Stanhope and Elsie 
 became separated from the rest, though not so 
 innocently as on the former occasion. 
 
 " See !" cried Elsie, pointing to the well-re 
 membered sapling, which she had often visited. 
 There fluttered our flag of truce last year." 
 
 Stanhope seized her hand, and said, eagerly : 
 
 " And here I again break the truce, and 
 renew the theme we dropped at this place. 
 Oh ! Elsie, I have felt that kiss in the depths of 
 my heart every hour since ; and in that it led 
 to my knowing and loving you it has made 
 every day from that time one of thanksgiving. 
 If you could return my love as I have dared 
 to hope, it would be a happiness beyond words. 
 If I could venture to take one more kiss, as a 
 token that it is returned, I could keep Thanks 
 giving forever." 
 
 Her hand trembled in his, but was not with- 
 
THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 133 
 
 drawn. Her blushing face was turned away 
 toward the brawling stream ; but she saw not 
 its foam, she heard not its hoarse murmurs. A 
 sweeter music was in her ears. She seemed 
 under a delicious spell ; but soon became con 
 scious that a pair of dark eyes were looking 
 down eagerly, anxiously for her answer. Shyly 
 raising hers, that now were like dewy violets, 
 she said, with a little of her old witchery : 
 
 I suppose you will have to kiss me this 
 Thanksgiving, to make things even." 
 Stanhope needed no broader hint. 
 
 I owe you a heavy grudge," said Mr. 
 Alford, in the evening. "A year ago you 
 robbed me of my child, for little, kittenish 
 Elsie became a thoughtful woman from the 
 day you were here. And now you are going 
 to take away the daughter of my old age." 
 
 Yes, indeed, husband, i^ow you know 
 how my father felt," said Mrs. Alford, at the 
 same time wiping something from the corner 
 of her eye. 
 
 "Bless me, are you here?" said the old 
 gentleman, wheeling round to his wife. * Mr. 
 Stanhope, I have nothing more to say." 
 
134 THREE THANKSGIVING KISSES. 
 
 " I declare," exulted George, " that horrid 
 man will devour Elsie yet." 
 
 " Haw ! haw ! haw !" laughed big-voiced, 
 big-hearted James. The idea of our little 
 witch of an Elsie being a minister s wife !" 
 # # * # * & # 
 
 It is again Thanksgiving eve. The trees 
 are gaunt, the fields bare and brown, with dead 
 leaves whirling across them ; but a sweeter 
 than June sunshine seems filling thecosey parlor 
 where Elsie, a radiant bride, is receiving her 
 husband s first kiss almost on the moment that 
 she with her lips so unexpectedly kindled the 
 sacred fire, three years before. 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOMETHING BEFORE UNKNOWN. 
 
 pLARA HEYWARD was dressed in deep 
 w mourning;, and it was evident that the em 
 blems of bereavement were not worn merely in 
 compliance with a social custom. Her face 
 was pallid from grief, and her dark beautiful 
 eyes were dim from much weeping. She sat 
 in the little parlor of a cottage located in a 
 large Californian city, and listened with apa 
 thetic expression as a young man pleaded for 
 the greatest and most sacred gift that a woman 
 can bestow. Ralph Brandt was a fine type of 
 young vigorous manhood ; and we might easily 
 fancy that his strong, resolute face, now elo 
 quent with deep feeling, was not one upon 
 which a girl could look with indifference. 
 Clara s words, however, revealed the apparent 
 hopelessness of his suit. 
 
136 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 " It s of no use, Ralph," she said ; " I m in no 
 mood for such thoughts." 
 
 " You don t believe in me ; you don t trust 
 me," he resumed sadly. "You think that be 
 cause I was once wild, and even worse, that I ll 
 not be true to my promises and live an honest 
 life. Have I not been honest when I knew 
 that being so might cost me dear? Have I not 
 told you of my past life and future purposes 
 when I might have concealed almost every 
 thing ?" 
 
 " It s not that, Ralph. I do believe you are 
 sincere ; and if the dreadful thing which has 
 broken me down with sorrow had not happened, 
 all might have been as you w r ish. I should 
 have quite as much confidence in a young man 
 who, like you, has seen evil and turned reso 
 lutely away from it, as in one who didn t know 
 much about the world or himself either. What s 
 more, father 
 
 At the word "father" her listless manner 
 vanished, and she gave away to passionate sobs. 
 " His foul murder is always before me," she 
 wailed. " Oh, we were so happy ! he was so 
 kind, and made me his companion ! I don t 
 see how I can live without him. I can t think 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 137 
 
 of love and marriage when I remember how he 
 died, and that the villain who killed him is at 
 large and unpunished. What right have I to 
 forget this great wrong and to try to be happy ? 
 No, no ! the knife that killed him pierced my 
 heart ; and it s bleeding all the time. I m not 
 fit to be any man s wife ; and I will not bring 
 my great sorrow into any man s home." 
 
 Brandt sprang up and paced the room for a 
 few moments, his brow contracted in deep 
 thought. Then, apparently coming to a de 
 cision, he sat down by his companion and took 
 her cold, unresisting hand. 
 
 " My poor little girl," he said kindly, " you 
 don t half understand me yet. I love you all 
 the more because you are heart-broken and pale 
 with grief. That is the reason I have spoken 
 so earnestly to-night. You will grieve yourself 
 to death if left alone ; and what good would 
 your death do any one ? It would spoil my life. 
 Believe me, I would welcome you to my home 
 with all your sorrow, all the more because of 
 your sorrow ; and I d be so kind and patient 
 that you d begin to smile again some day. 
 That s what your father would wish if he could 
 speak to you, and not that you should grieve 
 
138 TAKEN ALIVE, 
 
 away your life for what can t be helped now. 
 But I have a plan. It s right in my line to cap 
 ture such scoundrels as the man who murdered 
 your father ; and what s more, I know the man, 
 or rather I used to in old times. I ve played 
 many a game of euchre with him in which he 
 cheated me out of money that I d be glad to 
 have now ; and I m satisfied that he does not 
 know of any change in me. I was away on dis 
 tant detective duty, you know, when your father 
 was killed. I won t ask you to go over the pain 
 ful circumstances ; I can learn them at the 
 prison. I shall try to get permission to search 
 out Bute, desperate and dangerous as he 
 is" 
 
 " Oh, Ralph, Ralph," cried the girl, springing 
 up, her eyes flashing through her tears, " if you 
 will bring my father s murderer to justice, if 
 you will prevent him from destroying other 
 lives, as he surely will, you will find that I can 
 refuse you nothing." 
 
 Then she paused, shook her head sadly, and 
 withdrew the hand she had given him. " No," 
 she resumed, " I shouldn t ask this ; I don t 
 ask it. As you say, he is desperate and danger 
 ous ; and he would take your life the moment 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 139 
 
 he dreamed of your purpose. I should only 
 have another cause for sorrow." 
 
 Brandt now smiled as if he were master of the 
 situation. " Why, Clara," he exclaimed, "don t 
 you know that running- down and capturing 
 desperadoes is now part of my business ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but you can get plenty of work that 
 isn t so dangerous." 
 
 " I should be a nice fellow to ask you to be my 
 wife and yet show I was afraid to arrest your 
 father s murderer. You needn t ask me to do 
 this ; you are not going to be responsible for my 
 course in the least. I shall begin operations 
 this very night, and have no doubt that I can 
 get a chance to work on the case. Now don t 
 burden your heart with any thoughts about my 
 danger. I myself owe Bute as big a grudge as 
 I can have against any human being. He 
 cheated me and led me into deviltry years ago, 
 and then I lost sight of him until he was brought 
 to the prison of which your father was one of the 
 keepers. I ve been absent for the last three 
 months, you know ; but I didn t forget you or 
 your father a day, and you remember I wrote 
 you as soon as I heard of your trouble. I 
 think your father sort of believed in me ; he 
 
140 
 
 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 never made me feel I wasn t fit to see you or to 
 be with you, and I d do more for him living or 
 dead than for any other man." 
 
 " He did believe in you, Ralph, and always 
 spoke well of you. Oh, you can t know how 
 much I lost in him ! After mother died he did 
 not leave me to the care of strangers, but gave 
 me most of his time when off duty. He sent 
 me to the best schools, bought me books to 
 read, and took me out evenings instead of going 
 off by himself as so many men do. He was so 
 kind and so brave ; oh, oh ! you know he lost 
 his life by trying to do his duty when another 
 man would have given up. Bute and two 
 others broke jail. Father saw one of his assist 
 ants stabbed, and he was knocked down himself. 
 He might have remained quiet and escaped 
 with a few bruises ; but he caught Bute s foot, 
 and then the wretch turned and stabbed him. 
 He told me all with his poor pale lips before \ 
 he died. Oh, oh ! when shall I forget ?" 
 
 " You can never forget, dear ; I don t ask any 
 thing contrary to nature. You were a good 
 daughter, and so I believe you will be a good 
 wife. But if I bring the murderer to justice, 
 you will feel that a great wrong has been 
 
TAKEN ALIVE, 14] 
 
 righted, that all has been done that can be 
 done. Then you ll begin to think that your 
 father wouldn t wish you to grieve yourself to 
 death, and that as he tried to make you happy 
 while he was living, so he will wish you to be 
 happy now he s gone." 
 
 " It isn t a question of happiness. I don t 
 feel as if I could ever be happy again ; and so I 
 don t see how I can make you or any one else 
 happy." 
 
 " That s my look-out, Clara. I d be only too 
 glad to take you as you are. Come, now, this is 
 December. If I bring Bute in by Christmas, 
 what will you give me ?" 
 
 She silently and eloquently gave him her 
 hand ; but her lips quivered so she could not 
 speak. He kissed her hand as gallantly as any 
 olden-time knight, then added a little brusquely: 
 
 " See here, little girl, I m not going to bind 
 you by anything that looks like a bargain. I 
 shall attempt all I ve said ; and then on Christ 
 mas, or whenever I get back, I ll speak my 
 heart to you again just as I have spoken 
 now." 
 
 " When a man acts as you do, Ralph, any girl 
 would find it hard to keep free. I shall follow 
 
142 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 you night and day with my thoughts and 
 prayers." 
 
 "Well, I m superstitious enough to believe 
 that I shall be safer and more successful on 
 account of them. Clara, look me in the eyes 
 before I go." 
 
 She looked up to his clear gray eyes as re 
 quested. 
 
 " I don t ask you to forget one who is dead ; 
 but don t you see how much you are to one who 
 is living ? Don t you see that in spite of all your 
 sorrow you can still give happiness ? Now, be as 
 generous and kind as you can. Don t grieve 
 hopelessly while I m gone. That s what is 
 killing you ; and the thought of it fills me with 
 dread. Try to think that you still have some 
 thing and some one to live for. Perhaps you 
 can learn to love me a little if you try, and then 
 everything won t look so black. If you find 
 you can t love me, I won t blame you ; and if I 
 lose you as my wife, you won t lose a true, 
 honest friend." 
 
 For the first time the girl became vaguely 
 conscious of the possiblity of an affection, a tie 
 superseding all others ; she began to see how it 
 was possible to give herself to this man, not 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 143 
 
 from an impulse of gratitude or because she 
 liked him better than any one else, but because 
 of a feeling, new, mysterious, which gave him a 
 sort of divine right in her. Something in the 
 expression of his eyes had been more potent 
 than his words ; something subtle, swift as an 
 electric spark had passed from him to her, 
 awakening a faint, strange tumult in the heart 
 she thought so utterly crushed. A few mo 
 ments before, she could have promised resolutely 
 to be his wife ; she could have permitted his 
 embrace with unresponsive apathy. Now she 
 felt a sudden shyness. A faint color stole into 
 her pale face, and she longed to be alone. 
 
 " Ralph," she faltered, u you are so generous, 
 I I don t know what to say." 
 
 " You needn t say anything till I come back. 
 If possible, I will be here by Christmas, for you 
 shouldn t be alone that day with your grief. 
 Good-by." 
 
 The hand she gave him trembled, and her 
 face was averted now. 
 
 " You will try to love me a little, won t you ? 
 
 " Yes," she whispered. 
 
144 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A VISITOR AT THE MINE. 
 
 RALPH BRANDT was admirably fitted foi 
 the task he had undertaken. With fear 
 lessness he united imperturbable coolness and 
 wearied patience in pursuit of an object. Few 
 knew him in his character of detective, and no 
 one would have singled him out as an expert in 
 his calling. The more difficult and dangerous 
 the work, the more careless and indifferent his 
 manner, giving the impression to superficial 
 observers of being the very last person to be 
 intrusted with responsible duty. But his chief 
 and others on the force well knew that beneath 
 Brandt s careless demeanor was concealed the 
 relentless pertinacity of a bloodhound on track * 
 of its victim. With the trait of dogged pursuit 
 all resemblance to the blood-thirsty animal 
 ceased, and even the worst of criminals found 
 him kind-hearted and good-natured after they 
 were within his power. Failure was an idea 
 not to be entertained. If the man to be caught 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 145 
 
 existed, he could certainly be found, was the 
 principle on which our officer acted. 
 
 He readily obtained permission to attempt 
 the capture of the escaped prisoner, Bute ; but 
 the murderer had disappeared, leaving no clew. 
 Brandt learned that the slums of large cities and 
 several mining camps had been searched in vain, 
 also that the trains running east had been care 
 fully watched. We need not try to follow his 
 processes of thought, nor seek to learn how he 
 soon came to the conclusion that his man was 
 at some distant mining station working under 
 an assumed name. By a kind of instinct his 
 mind kept reverting to one of these stations with 
 increasing frequency. It was not so remote in 
 respect to mere distance ; but it was isolated, off 
 the lines of travel, with a gap of seventy miles 
 between it and what might be termed civiliz 
 ation, and was suspected of being a sort of re 
 fuge for hard characters and fugitives from 
 justice. Bute, when last seen, was making for 
 the mountains in the direction of this mine. 
 Invested with ample authority to bring in the 
 outlaw dead or alive, Brandt followed this 
 vague clew. 
 
 One afternoon Mr. Alford the superintendent 
 
i 4 6 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 of the mine, was informed that a man wished to 
 see him. There was ushered into his private 
 office an elderly gentleman who appeared as if 
 he might be a prospecting capitalist or one of 
 the owners of the mine. The superintendent 
 was kept in doubt as to the character of the 
 visitor for a few moments while Brandt sought 
 by general remarks and leading questions to 
 learn the disposition of the man who must, from 
 the necessities of the case, become to some ex 
 tent his ally in securing the ends of justice. 
 Apparently the detective was satisfied, for he 
 asked suddenly, 
 
 " By the way, have you a man in your employ 
 by the name of Bute ?" 
 
 " No, sir," replied Mr. Alford, with a little 
 surprise. 
 
 "Have you a man, then, who answers to the 
 following description ?" He gave a brief word 
 photograph of the criminal. 
 
 " You want this man ?" Mr. Alford asked in a* 
 low voice. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, really, sir, I would like to know your 
 motive, indeed, I may add, your authority, 
 for,-" 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 147 
 
 "There it is," Brandt smilingly remarked, 
 handing the superintendent a paper. 
 
 " Oh certainly, certainly," said Mr. Alford, 
 after a moment. " This is all right ; and 1 am 
 bound to do nothing to obstruct you in the per 
 formance of your duty." He now carefully 
 closed the door and added, " What do you want 
 this man for ?" 
 
 " It s a case of murder." 
 
 " Phew ! Apparently he is one of the best 
 men on the force." 
 
 "Only apparently ; I know him well." 
 
 Mr. Alford s brow clouded with anxiety, and 
 after a moment he said, "Mr. how shall 1 
 address you ?" 
 
 "You had better continue to call me by the 
 name under which I was introduced, Brown." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Brown, you have a very difficult 
 and hazardous task, and you must be careful 
 how you involve me in your actions. I shall not 
 lay a straw in your way, but I cannot openly 
 help you. It is difficult for me to get labor here 
 at best ; and it is understood that I ask no 
 questions and deal with men on the basis simply 
 of their relations to me. As long as I act n 
 this understanding, I can keep public sentiment 
 
I4 8 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 with me and enforce some degree of discipline. 
 If it were known that I was aiding or abetting 
 you in the enterprise you have in hand, my life 
 would not be worth a rush. There are plenty 
 in camp who would shoot me, just as they would 
 you should they learn of your design. I fear 
 you do not realize what you are attempting. A 
 man like yourself, elderly and alone, has no 
 better chance of taking such a fellow as you 
 describe Bute to be, than of carrying a ton of 
 ore on his back down the mountain. In all 
 sincerity, sir, I must advise you to depart quietly 
 and expeditiously, and give no one besides my 
 self a hint of your errand." 
 
 " Will you please step into the outer office and 
 make sure that no one is within ear-shot," said 
 Brandt, quietly. 
 
 When Mr. Alford returned, the elderly man 
 apparently had disappeared, and a smiling 
 smooth-faced young fellow with short brown 
 hair sat in his place. His host stared, the trans 
 formation was so great. 
 
 " Mr. Alford," said the detective, " I under 
 stand my business and the risks it involves. All 
 I ask of you is that I may not be interfered with 
 so far as you are concerned ; and my chief ob- 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. I49 
 
 ject in calling is to prevent your being surprised 
 by anything you may see or hear. About three 
 miles or thereabouts from here, on the road 
 running east, there is a fellow who keeps a 
 tavern. Do you know him ?" 
 
 " I know no good of him. He s the worst 
 nuisance I have to contend with, for he keeps 
 some of my men disabled much of the time." 
 
 "Well, I knew Bute years ago, and I can 
 make him think I am now what I was then, 
 only worse ; and I will induce him to go with 
 me to raid that tavern. If this plan fails, I 
 shall try another, for I am either going to take 
 Bute alive or else get ample proof that he is 
 dead. There may be some queer goings-on be 
 fore I leave, and all I ask is that you will 
 neither interfere nor investigate. You may be 
 as ignorant and non-committal as you please. 
 I shall report progress to you, however, and 
 may need your testimony, but will see to it that 
 it is given by you as one who had nothing to do 
 with the affair. Now please show me your 
 quarters, so that I can find you at night if need 
 be ; also Bute s sleeping-place and the lay of the 
 land to some extent. You ll find that I can 
 take everything in mighty quick. See, I m 
 
i 5 o TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 the elderly gentleman again," and he resumed 
 his diguise with marvellous celerity. 
 
 Mr. Alford led the way through the outer 
 office ; and the two clerks writing there saw 
 nothing to awaken the slightest suspicion. The 
 superintendent s cottage stood on the road lead 
 ing to the mine and somewhat apart from the 
 other buildings. On the opposite side of the 
 highway was a thicket of pines which promised 
 cover until one plunged into the unbroken forest 
 that covered the mountain-side. 
 
 Brandt observed this, and remarked, " I ve 
 studied the approaches to your place a little as I 
 came along ; but I suppose I shall have to 
 give a day or two more to the work before 
 making my attempt." 
 
 "Well," rejoined Mr. Alford, who was of 
 rather a social turn and felt the isolation of his 
 life, " why not be my guest for a time ? I ll 
 take the risk if you will remain incog., and keep 
 aloof from the men." 
 
 " That I should do in any event till ready to 
 act. Thank you for your kindness, for it may 
 simplify my task very much. I will see to it 
 that I do not compromise you. When I m 
 ready to snare my bird, you can dismiss me a 
 little ostentatiously for New York." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 151 
 
 Brandt s horse was now ordered to the stable. 
 The two men entered the cottage, and soon 
 afterwards visited the different points of in 
 terest, Mr. Alf ord giving the natural impression 
 that he was showing an interested stranger 
 the appliances for working the mine. At one 
 point he remarked in a low tone, " That s Bute s 
 lodging-place. A half-breed, named Apache 
 Jack, who speaks little English, lives with him." 
 
 Brandt s seemingly careless and transitory 
 glance rested on a little shanty and noted that 
 it was separated from others of its class by a 
 considerable interval. 
 
 " Bute, you say, is on the day-shift." 
 
 " Yes, he won t be up till six o clock." 
 
 " I ll manage to see him then without his 
 knowing it." 
 
 " Be careful. I take my risk on the ground of 
 your good faith and prudence." 
 
 " Don t fear." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THWARTED. 
 
 "HRANDT maintained his disguise admirably. 
 D His presence caused little comment, and 
 he was spoken of as a visiting stockholder of the 
 mine. During his walk with Mr. Alford he 
 appeared interested only in machinery, ores, 
 etc., but his trained eyes made a topographical 
 map of surroundings, and everything centred 
 about Bute s shanty. In the evening he amply 
 returned his host s hospitality by comic and 
 tragic stories of criminal life. The next day he 
 began to lay his plans carefully, and disap 
 peared soon after breakfast with the ostensible 
 purpose of climbing a height at some distance 
 for the sake of the prospect. He soon doubled 
 round, noting every covert approach to Bute s 
 lodgings. His eye and ear were as quick as an 
 Indian s ; but he still maintained, in case he 
 was observed, the manner of an elderly stranger 
 strolling about to view the region. 
 
 By noon he felt that he had the immediate 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 153 
 
 locality by heart. His afternoon task was to 
 explore the possibilities of a stream that crossed 
 the mine road something- over a mile away, and 
 for this purpose he mounted his horse. He 
 soon reached the shallow ford, and saw that the 
 water was backed up for a considerable dis 
 tance, and that the shallows certainly extended 
 around a high, jutting rock which hid the 
 stream from that point and beyond from the 
 road. The bed appeared smooth, firm and 
 sandy, and he waded his horse up the gentle 
 current until he was concealed from the high 
 way. A place, however, was soon reached 
 where the water came tumbling down over im 
 passable rocks ; and he was compelled to ascend 
 the wooded shore. This he did on the side 
 nearest to the mine house, and found that with 
 care he could lead his horse to a point that 
 could not be, he thought, over half a mile from 
 the superintendent s cottage. Here there was 
 a little dell around which the pines grew so 
 darkly and thickly that he determined to make 
 it his covert should he fail in his first attempt. 
 His object now was to see if his estimate of 
 proximity to the mine was correct ; and leaving 
 his horse, he pushed up the mountain-side. At 
 
I 5 4 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 last he reached a precipitous ledge. Skirting 
 this a short distance, he found a place of com 
 paratively easy ascent, and soon learned with 
 much satisfaction that he was not over two 
 hundred yards from the thicket opposite Mr. 
 Alford s quarters. These discoveries all favored 
 possible future operations ; and he retraced his 
 steps, marking his returning path by bits of 
 white paper, held in place by stones against the 
 high, prevailing winds. Near the spot where 
 he had left his horse he found a nook among 
 the rocks in which a fire would be well hidden. 
 Having marked the place carefully with his 
 eye and obtained his bearings, he led his horse 
 back to the stream and reached the unfrequented 
 road again without being observed. 
 
 His next task was to discover some kind of a 
 passage-way from the mine road to a point on 
 the main highway, leading to the west and out 
 of the mountains. He found no better resource 
 than to strike directly into the forest and travel 
 by points of the compass. Fortunately the 
 trees were lofty and comparatively open, and 
 he encountered no worse difficulties than some 
 steep and rugged descents, and at last emerged 
 on the post road at least a mile to the west of 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 155 
 
 the tavern, which stood near its intersection 
 with the mine road. Returning, he again 
 marked out a path with paper as he had before. 
 The sun was now low in the sky ; and as he 
 trotted toward the mine, he had but one more 
 precaution to take, and that was to find a place 
 where the trees were sufficiently open to per 
 mit him to ride into their shade at night in case 
 he wished to avoid parties upon the road. 
 Having indicated two or three such spots by a 
 single bit of paper that would glimmer in th*. 
 moonlight, he joined Mr. Alford at supper, feel 
 ing that his preparations were nearly complete 
 When they were alone, he told his host that it 
 would be best not to gratify his curiosity, for 
 then he could honestly say that he knew 
 nothing of any detective s plans or where 
 abouts. 
 
 " I cannot help feeling," said Mr. Alford, 
 " that you are playing with fire over a powder 
 magazine. Now that I know you better, I hate 
 to think of the risk that you are taking. It 
 has troubled me terribly all day, I feel as if 
 we were on the eve of a tragedy. You had bet 
 ter leave quietly in the morning and bring a 
 force later that would make resistance impos- 
 
156 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 sible, or else give it tip altogether. Why should 
 you throw away your life ? I tell you again 
 that if the men get a hint of your character or 
 purpose they will hunt you to death." 
 
 " It s a part of my business to incur such 
 risks," replied Brandt, quietly. " Besides, I 
 have a motive in this case which would lead 
 me to take a man out of the jaws of hell." 
 
 " That s what you may find you are attempt 
 ing here. Well, we re in for it now, I suppose, 
 since you are so determined." 
 
 " I don t think you will appear involved in 
 the affair at all. In the morning you give me 
 a sack of grain for my horse and some provisions 
 for myself, and then bid farewell to Mr. Brown 
 in the most open and natural manner possible. 
 You may not see me again. It is possible I 
 may have to borrow a horse of you if my 
 scheme to-night don t work, It will be re 
 turned or paid for very soon." 
 
 " Bute has a pony. He brought it with him, 
 and he and Apache Jack between them manage 
 to keep it. They stable it nights in a little 
 shed back of their shanty." 
 
 " I had discovered this, and hope to take the 
 man away on his pony. I understand why Bute 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 157 
 
 keeps the animal. He knew that he might 
 have to travel suddenly and fast." 
 
 The next morning Mr. Alford parted with 
 Brandt as had been arranged, the latter start 
 ing ostensibly for the nearest railway station. 
 All day long the superintendent was nervous 
 and anxious ; but he saw no evidences of suspi 
 cion or uneasiness among those in his employ. 
 
 Brandt rode at a sharp canter as long as he 
 was in sight, and then approached the stream 
 slowly and warily. When satisfied that he was 
 unobserved, he again passed up its shallow bed 
 around the concealing rock, and sought his 
 hiding-place on the mountain-side. Aware that 
 the coming nights might require ceaseless ac 
 tivity, his first measure was to secure a few 
 hours of sound sleep ; and he had so trained 
 himself that he could, as it were, store up rest 
 against long and trying emergencies. The 
 rocks sheltered him against the wind, and a fire 
 gave all the comfort his hardy frame required, 
 as he reposed on his couch of pine-needles. 
 Early in the afternoon he fed his horse, took a 
 hearty meal himself, and concealed the remain 
 ing store so that no wild creatures could get at 
 it. At early twilight he returned by way of the 
 
158 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 stream and hid his horse well back in the woods 
 near the mine. To this he now went boldly, 
 and inquired for Tim Atkins, Bute s assumed 
 name. He was directed to the shanty with 
 which he had already made himself so familiar. 
 
 Bute was found alone, and was much sur 
 prised at sight of his old gambling acquaintance 
 of better days, for his better days were those 
 of robbery before he had added the deeper stain 
 of murder. Brandt soon allayed active fears 
 and suspicions by giving the impression that in 
 his descensus he had reached the stage of rob 
 bery and had got on the scent of some rich 
 booty in the mountains. 
 
 " But how did you know I was here ?" de 
 manded Bute. 
 
 "I didn t know it," replied Brandt, adopting 
 his old vernacular ; " but I guessed as muchj 
 for I knew there was more n one shady feller 
 in this gang, and I took my chances on fmdin , 
 you, for says I to myself, if I can find Bute, I ve 
 found the right man to help me crack a ranch 
 when there s some risk and big plunder." 
 
 He then disclosed the fact of hearing that the 
 keeper of the tavern had accumulated a good 
 sum of hard money, and was looking out for a 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 159 
 
 chance to send it to a bank. "We can save 
 him the trouble, yer know," he concluded face 
 tiously. 
 
 "Well," said Bute, musingly, "I m gittin 
 tired of this dog s life, and I reckon I ll go 
 snacks with yer and then put out fer parts un 
 known. I was paid t other day, and there ain t 
 much owin me here. I guess it ll be safer fer 
 me ter keep movin on, too." 
 
 " You may well say that, Bute. I heard be 
 low that there was goin to be some investiga 
 tions inter this gang, and that there was more 
 n one feller here whose pictur was on exhibi 
 tion." 
 
 "That so?" said Bute, hastily. "Well, I ll 
 go with yer ter-night, fer it s time I was 
 movin . I kin tell yer one thing, though, 
 there ll be no investigations here unless a fair- 
 sized regiment makes it. Every man keeps his 
 shooter handy." 
 
 " Hanged if we care how the thing turns out. 
 You and me 11 be far enough away from the 
 shindy. Now make your arrangements prompt ; 
 for we must be on the road by nine o clock, so 
 we can get through early in the night and have 
 a good start with the swag. My plan is to am- 
 
160 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 bush the whiskey shop, go and demand drinks 
 soon after everybody is gone, and then proceed 
 to business." 
 
 " Can t we let my mate, Apache Jack, in with 
 us? I ll stand for him." 
 
 " No, no, I don t know anything about Apache 
 Jack ; and I can trust you. We can manage 
 better alone, and I d rather have one-half than 
 one- third." 
 
 "Trust me, kin you? you fool," thought 
 Bute. " So ye thinks I ll sit down and divide 
 the plunder socially with you when I kin give 
 yer a quiet dig in the ribs and take it all. One 
 more man now won t matter. I m a goin ter 
 try fer enough ter-night ter take me well out of 
 these parts." 
 
 Bute s face was sinister enough to suggest 
 any phase of evil, and Brandt well knew that 
 he was capable of what he meditated. It was 
 now the policy of both parties, however, to be 
 very friendly, and Bute was still further mel 
 lowed by a draught of liquor from Brandt s 
 flask. 
 
 They had several games of cards in which it 
 was managed that Bute s winnings should be 
 the larger ; and at nine in the evening they 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. X 6i 
 
 started on what was to Bute another expedition 
 of robbery and murder. Mr. Alford, who was 
 on the alert, saw them depart with a deep 
 sigh of relief. The night was cloudy ; but the 
 moon gave plenty of light for travelling. 
 Brandt soon secured his horse, and then ap 
 peared to give full rein to his careless, reckless 
 spirit. 
 
 As they approached the stream, he remarked, 
 " I say Bute, it s too bad we can t use the paste 
 boards while on the jog ; but I can win a five 
 out of you by an old game of ours. I bet you I 
 can empty my revolver quicker *n you can." 
 
 " We d better save our amernition and make 
 no noise." 
 
 " Oh, shaw ! I always have better luck when 
 I m free and careless like. It s your sneaking 
 fellers that always get caught. Besides, who ll 
 notice ? This little game is common enough all 
 through the mountains, and everybody knows 
 that there s no mischief in such kind of firing. 
 I want to win back some of my money." 
 
 " Well then, take you up ; go ahead." 
 
 Instantly from Brandt s pistol there were six 
 reports following one another so quickly that 
 they could scarcely be distinguished. 
 
162 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 " Now beat that if you can !" cried Brandt, 
 who had a second and concealed revolver ready 
 for an emergency. 
 
 "The fool!" thought Bute, "to put himself 
 at the marcy of any man. I can pluck him to 
 night like a winged pa tridge ;" but he, too, 
 fired almost as quickly as his companion. 
 
 " You only used five ca tridges in that little 
 game, my friend," said Brandt. 
 
 " Nonsense ! I fired so quick you couldn t 
 count em." 
 
 " Now see here, Bute," resumed Brandt, in 
 an aggrieved tone, "you ve got to play fair 
 with me. I ve cut my eye-teeth since you 
 used to fleece me, and I ll swear you fired only 
 five shots. Let s load and try again." 
 
 "What s the use of sich nonsense ? You ll 
 swar that you fired the quickest ; and of course 
 I ll swar the same, and there s nobody here ter 
 jedge. What s more, Ralph Brandt, I wants, 
 you and every man ter know that I always keeps 
 a shot in reserve, and that I never misses. So 
 let s load and jog on, and stop foolin ." 
 
 " That scheme has failed," thought Brandt, 
 as he replaced the shells with cartridges. 
 
 His purpose was to find a moment when his 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 163 
 
 companion was completely in his power, and it 
 came sooner that he expected. When they 
 drew near the brook, it was evident that Bute s 
 pony was thirsty, for it suddenly darted forward 
 and thrust its nose into the water. Therefore, 
 for an instant, Bute was in advance with his 
 back toward the detective. Covering the fellow 
 with his revolver, Brandt shouted, 
 
 " Bute, throw up your hands ; surrender, or 
 you are a dead man !" 
 
 Instantly the truth flashed through the out> 
 law s mind. Instead of complying, he threw 
 himself forward over the pony s neck and urged 
 the animal forward. Brandt fired, and Bute 
 fell with a splash into the water. At that mo 
 ment three miners, returning from the tavern, 
 came shouting to the opposite side of the 
 stream. The frightened pony, relieved of its 
 burden, galloped homeward. Brandt also with 
 drew rapidly toward the mine for some dis 
 tance, and then rode into the woods. Having 
 tied his horse well back from the highway, he 
 reconnoitered the party that had so inoppor 
 tunely interfered with his plans. He discov 
 ered that they were carrying Bute, who, from 
 his groans and oaths, was evidently not dead. 
 
164 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 though he might be mortally wounded. His 
 rescuers were breathing out curses and threats 
 of vengeance against Brandt, now known to be 
 an officer of the law. 
 
 "The job has become a little complicated 
 now," muttered Brandt, after they had passed ; 
 "and I must throw them off the scent. There 
 will be a dozen out after me soon." 
 
 He remounted his horse, stole silently down 
 the road, crossed the stream, and then galloped 
 to the tavern, and calling out the keeper, asked 
 if there was any shorter road out of the moun 
 tains than the one leading to the west. Being 
 answered in the negative, he rode hastily away. 
 On reaching the place where he had struck this 
 road the previous day, he entered the woods, 
 followed the rugged trail that he had marked 
 by bits of paper, and slowly approached the 
 mine road again near the point where the 
 stream crossed it. He then reconnoitered and, 
 learned that there was evidently a large party 
 exploring the woods between the stream and 
 the mine. 
 
 At last they all gathered at the ford for con 
 saltation, and Brandt heard one say, 
 
 "We re wastin time, beatin round here. 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. ^5 
 
 He d naterly put fer the lowlands as soon as he 
 found he was balked in takin his man. I move 
 we call on Whiskey Bob, and see if a man s 
 rode that way ter-night." 
 
 A call on Whiskey Bob was apparently al 
 ways acceptable ; and the party soon disap 
 peared down the road, some on horses and 
 more on foot. Brandt then quietly crossed the 
 road and gained his retreat on the mountain-side. 
 
 "I must camp here now till the fellow dies, 
 and I can prove it, or until I can get another 
 chance," was his conclusion as he rubbed down 
 and fed his horse. 
 
i66 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 A FTER taking some refreshment himself, 
 ** Brandt decided to go to the thicket oppo 
 site the superintendent s house for a little ob 
 servation. He soon reached this outlook, and 
 saw that something unusual was occurring in 
 the cottage. At last the door opened, and Bute 
 was assisted to his shanty by two men. They 
 had scarcely disappeared before Brandt darted 
 across the road and knocked for admittance. 
 
 " Great Scott ! you here ?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Alford. 
 
 " Yes, and here I m going to stay till I take 
 my man," replied the detective, with a laugh. 
 " Don t be alarmed. I shall not remain in your 
 house, but in the neighborhood." 
 
 " You are trifling with your life, and, I may 
 add, with mine." 
 
 "Not at all. Come up to your bedroom. 
 First draw the curtains close, and we ll com 
 pare notes. I won t stay but a few moments." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 167 
 
 Mr. Alford felt that it was best to comply, for 
 some one might come and find them talking in 
 the hall. When Brandt entered the apartment, 
 he threw himself into a chair and laughed in 
 his low careless style as he said, " Well, I almost 
 bagged my game to-night, and would have 
 done so had not three of your men, returning 
 from the tavern, interfered." 
 
 " There s a party out looking for you now." 
 
 " I know it ; but I ve put them on the wrong 
 trail. What I want to learn is, will Bute live ?" 
 
 " Yes ; your shot made a long flesh-wound 
 just above his shoulders. A little closer, and it 
 would have cut his vertebrae and finished him. 
 He has lost a good deal of blood, and could not 
 be moved for some days except at some risk." 
 
 " You are sure of that ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, he may have to incur the risk. I only 
 wish to be certain that he will not take it on his 
 own act at once. You ll soon miss him in any 
 event." 
 
 "The sooner the better. I wish your aim 
 had been surer." 
 
 " That wasn t my good luck. Next time I ll 
 have to shoot closer or else take him alive." 
 
168 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 "But you can t stay in this region. They 
 will all be on the alert now." 
 
 " Oh, no. The impression will be general to 
 morrow that I ve made for the lowlands as fast 
 as my horse could carry me. Don t you worry. 
 Till I move again, I m safe enough. All I ask 
 of you now is to keep Bute in his own shanty, 
 and not to let him have more than one man to 
 take care of him if possible. Good-night. You 
 may not see me again, and then again you 
 may." 
 
 " Well, now that you are here," said the su 
 perintendent, who was naturally brave enough, 
 "spend an hour or two, or else stay till just be 
 fore daylight. I confess I am becoming in 
 tensely interested in your adventure, and would 
 take a hand in it if I could ; but you know 
 well enough that if I did, and it became known, 
 I would have to find business elsewhere very 
 suddenly, that is, if given the chance." 
 
 " I only wish your passive co-operation. I 
 should be glad, however, if you would let me 
 take a horse, if I must." 
 
 "Certainly, as long as you leave my black 
 mare." 
 
 Brandt related what had occurred, giving a 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 169 
 
 comical aspect to everything, and then after re- 
 connoitering the road from a darkened window, 
 regained his cover in safety. He declined to 
 speak of his future plans or to give any clew to 
 his hiding-place, to which he now returnee!. 
 
 During the few remaining hours of darkness 
 and most of the next day, he slept and lounged 
 about his fire. The next night was too bright 
 and clear for anything beyond a reconnoissance, 
 and he saw evidences of an alertness which 
 made him very cautious. He did not seek an 
 other interview with Mr. Alford, for now noth 
 ing was to be gained by it. 
 
 The next day proved cloudy, and with night 
 began a violent storm of wind and rain. Brandt 
 cowered over his fire till nine o clock, and then 
 taking a slight draught from his flask, chuck 
 led, "This is glorious weather for my work. 
 Here s to Clara s luck this time !" 
 
 In little over an hour he started for the mine, 
 near which he concealed his horse. Stealing 
 about in the deep shadows, he soon satisfied 
 himself that no one was on the watch, and then 
 approaching the rear of Bute s shanty found to 
 his joy that the pony was in the shed. A chink 
 in the board siding enabled him to look into the 
 
170 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 room which contained his prey ; he started as 
 he saw Apache Jack, instantly recognizing in 
 him another criminal for whom a large reward 
 was offered. 
 
 " Better luck than I dreamed of," he thought. 
 " I shall take them both ; but I now shall have 
 to borrow a horse of Alford ;" and he glided 
 away, secured an animal from the stable, and 
 tied it near his own. In a short time he was 
 back at his post of observation. It had now be 
 come evident that no one even imagined that 
 there was danger while such a storm was 
 raging. The howling wind would drown all 
 ordinary noises ; and Brandt determined that 
 the two men in the shanty should be on their 
 way to jail that night. When he again put his 
 eye to the chink in the wall, Bute was saying, 
 
 " Well, no one will start fer the mountings 
 while this storm lasts, but, wound or no wound, 
 I must get out of this as soon as it s over. 
 There s no safety fer me here now." 
 
 " Ef they comes fer you, like enough they ll 
 take me," replied Apache Jack, who, now that 
 he was alone with his confederate, could speak 
 his style of English fast enough. His character 
 of half-breed was a disguise which his dark 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 171 
 
 complexion had suggested. " Ter-morrer night, 
 ef it s clar, we ll put out fer the easterd. I 
 know of a shanty in the woods not so very fur 
 from here in which we kin put up till yer s able 
 to travel furder. Come, now, take a swig of 
 whiskey with me and then we ll sleep ; there s 
 no need of our watchin any longer on a night 
 like this. I ll jest step out an see ef the 
 pony s safe ; sich a storm s nuff ter scare him 
 off ter the woods." 
 
 " Well, jest lay my shooter on the cha r here 
 aside me fore you go. I feel safer with the 
 little bull-dog in reach." 
 
 This the man did, then putting his own re 
 volver on the table, that it might not get wet, 
 began to unbar the door. Swift as a shadow 
 Brandt glided out of the shed and around on the 
 opposite side of the shanty. 
 
 An instant later Bute was paralyzed by see 
 ing his enemy enter the open door. Before the 
 outlaw could realize that Brandt was not a fev 
 erish vision induced by his wound, the detective 
 had captured both revolvers, and was standing 
 behind the door awaiting Apache Jack s return. 
 
 " Hist !" whispered Brandt, " not a sound, or 
 you will both be dead in two minutes." 
 
172 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 Bute s nerves were so shattered that he could 
 scarcely have spoken, even if he had been reck 
 less enough to do so. He felt himself doomed ; 
 and when brutal natures like his succumb, they 
 usually break utterly. Therefore he could do 
 no more than shiver with unspeakable dread as 
 if he had an ague. 
 
 Soon Apache Jack came rushing in out of the 
 storm, to be instantly confronted by Brandt s 
 revolver. The fellow glanced at the table, and 
 seeing his own weapon was gone, instinctively 
 half drew a long knife. 
 
 " Put that knife on the table !" ordered 
 Brandt, sternly. " Do you think I d allow any 
 such foolishness ?" 
 
 The man now realized his powerlessness, and 
 obeyed ; and Brandt secured this weapon also. 
 
 " See here, Apache Jack, or whatever your 
 name is, don t you run your head into a noose. 
 You know I m empowered to arrest Bute, and 
 you don t know anything about the force I have 
 at hand. All you ve got to do is to obey me, 
 an officer of the law, like a good citizen. If you 
 don t, I ll shoot you ; and that s all there is 
 about it. Will you obey orders ? " 
 
 u I no understan ." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 173 
 
 " Stop lying ! You understand English as 
 well as I do, and I ll suspect you if you try that 
 on again. Come, now ! I ve no time to lose. 
 It s death or obedience !" 
 
 "You can t blame a fellow fer standin by his 
 mate," was the sullen yet deprecatory reply. 
 
 " I can blame any man and arrest or shoot 
 him too, who obstructs the law. You must 
 obey me for the next half-hour to prove that 
 you are not Bute s accomplice." 
 
 " He s only my mate, and our rule is ter 
 stand by each other ; but, as you say, I can t help 
 myself, and there s no use of my goin ter jail." 
 
 " I should think not," added Brandt, appeal 
 ing to the fellow s selfish hope of escaping 
 further trouble if Bute was taken. " Now get 
 my prisoner out of bed and dress him as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " But he ain t able ter be moved. The super 
 intendent said he wasn t." 
 
 " That s my business, not yours. Do as I bid 
 you." 
 
 "Why don t yer yell for help ?" said Bute, in 
 a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " Because he knows I d shoot him if he did," 
 remarked Brandt, coolly. 
 
174 
 
 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 " Come, old man," said Jack, " luck s agin yer. 
 Ef there s any hollerin to be done, yer s as 
 able ter do that as I be." 
 
 " Quick, quick ! jerk him out of bed and get 
 him into his clothes. I won t permit one false 
 move." 
 
 Jack now believed that his only means of 
 safety was to be as expeditious as possible, and 
 that if Bute was taken safely he would be left 
 unmolested. People of their class rarely keep 
 faith with one another when it is wholly against 
 their interests to do so. Therefore, in spite of 
 the wounded man s groans, he was quickly 
 dressed and his hands tied behind him. As he 
 opened his mouth to give expression to his pro 
 tests, he found himself suddenly gagged by 
 Brandt, who stood behind him. Then a strap 
 was buckled about his feet, and he lay on the 
 floor helpless and incapable of making a sound. 
 
 " Now, Jack," said Brandt, " go before me and ^ 
 bridle and saddle the pony ; then bring him to 
 the door." 
 
 Jack obeyed. 
 
 " Now put Bute upon him. I ll hold his head ; 
 but remember I m covering you with a dead 
 bead all the time." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE, 175 
 
 " No need of that. I m civil enough now." 
 
 " Well, you know we re sort of strangers and 
 it s no more than prudent for me to be on the 
 safe side till we part company. That s right, 
 strap his feet underneath. Now lead the pony 
 in such directions as I say. Don t try to make 
 off till I m through with you, or you ll be shot 
 instantly. I shall keep within a yard of you all 
 the time." 
 
 They were not long in reaching the horse 
 that Brandt had borrowed, and Jack said, "I 
 s pose I kin go now." 
 
 " First untie Bute s hands so he can guide the 
 pony." 
 
 As the fellow attempted to do this, and his 
 two hands were together, Brandt slipped a pair 
 of light steel handcuffs over his wrists, and the 
 man was in his power. Almost before the new 
 prisoner could recover from his surprise, he 
 was lifted on the borrowed horse, and his legs 
 also tied underneath. 
 
 " This ain t f a r. You promised ter let me go 
 when you got Bute off." 
 
 "I have nt got him off yet. Of course I 
 can t let you go right back and bring a dozen 
 men after us. You must be reasonable." 
 
I7 6 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 The fellow yelled for help ; but the wind 
 swept the sound away. 
 
 " If you do that again, I ll gag you, too," said 
 Brandt. "I tell you both once more, and I 
 won t repeat the caution, that your lives depend 
 on obedience." Then he mounted, and added, 
 " Bute, I m going to untie your hands, and you 
 must ride on ahead of me. I ll lead Jack s horse." 
 
 In a moment he had his prisoners in the road, 
 and was leaving the mine at a sharp pace. 
 Bute was so cowed and dazed with terror that 
 he obeyed mechanically. The stream was no 
 longer a shallow brook, but a raging torrent 
 which almost swept them away as Brandt 
 urged them relentlessly through it. The tavern 
 was dark and silent as they passed quickly by 
 it. Then Brandt took the gag from Bute s 
 mouth, and he groaned, cursed, and pleaded by 
 turns. Hour after hour he urged them for 
 ward, until at last Bute gave out and fell for 
 ward on the pony s neck. Brandt dismounted 
 and gave the exhausted man a draught from 
 
 his flask. 
 
 " Oh, shoot me and have done with it !" 
 groaned Bute ; " I f d rather be shot than hanged 
 anyhow." 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 177 
 
 "Couldn t think of it," replied the detective, 
 cheerily. " My rule is to take prisoners alive, 
 so that they can have a fair trial and be sure 
 that they get justice. I d take you the rest of 
 the way in a bed if I could, but if you can t sit up, 
 I ll have to tie you on. We ll reach a friend of 
 mine by daylight, and then you can ride in a 
 wagon, so brace up." 
 
 This the outlaw did for a time, and then he 
 gave out utterly and was tied more securely to 
 the pony. Out of compassion, Brandt there 
 after travelled more slowly ; and when the sun 
 was an hour high, he led his forlorn captives to 
 the house of a man whom he knew could be de 
 pended upon for assistance. After a rest suffi 
 cient to give Bute time to recover somewhat, 
 the remainder of the j jurney was made with 
 out any incident worth mentioning, and the 
 prisoners were securely lodged in jail on the 
 evening of the 24th of December. 
 
178 TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHAT BRANDT SAW CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 BRANDT S words and effort had had their 
 natural effect on the mind of Clara Hey- 
 ward. They proved an increasing diversion of 
 her thoughts, and slowly dispelled the morbid, 
 leaden grief under which she had been sinking. 
 Her new anxiety in regard to her lover s fortune 
 and possible fate was a healthful counter-irrit 
 ant. Half consciously she yielded to the influ 
 ence of his strong hopeful spirit, and almost be 
 fore she was aware of it she, too, began to hope. 
 Chief of all, his manly tenderness and unbar- 
 gaining love stole into her heart like a subtle 
 balm ; and responsive love, the most potent of 
 remedies, was renewing her life. She found 
 herself counting the days and then the hours 
 that must intervene before the 25th. On Christ 
 mas Eve her woman s nature triumphed, and 
 she instinctively added such little graces to her 
 toilet as her sombre costume permitted. She 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. 179 
 
 also arranged her beautiful hair in the style 
 which she knew he admired. He might come ; 
 and she determined that his first glance should 
 reveal that he was not serving one who was 
 coldly apathetic to his brave endeavor and 
 loyalty. 
 
 Indeed, even she herself wondered at the 
 changes that had taken place during the brief 
 time which had elapsed since their parting. 
 There was a new light in her eyes ; and a deli 
 cate bloom tinged her cheeks. 
 
 "Oh," she murmured, "it s all so different 
 now that I feel that I can live for him and make 
 him happy." 
 
 She was sure that she could welcome him in 
 a way that would assure him of the fulfilment 
 of all his hopes ; but when he did come with 
 his eager, questioning eyes, she suddenly found 
 herself under a strange restraint, tongue-tied 
 and embarrassed. She longed to put her arms 
 about his neck and tell him all, the new life, 
 the new hope which his look of deep affection 
 had kindled ; and in effort for self-control, she 
 seemed to him almost cold. He therefore be 
 came perplexed and uncertain of his ground, 
 and took refuge in the details of his expedition, 
 
i8o TAKEN ALIVE. 
 
 meanwhile mentally assuring himself that he 
 must keep his word and put no constraint on 
 the girl contrary to the dictates of her heart. 
 
 As his mind grew clearer, his keen obser 
 vation begar- to reveal hopeful indications. 
 She was listening intently with approval, and 
 something more in her expression, he dared to 
 fancy. Suddenly he exclaimed, " How changed 
 you are for the better, Clara ! You are lovelier 
 to-night than ever you were. What is it in 
 your face that is so sweet and bewildering? 
 You were a pretty girl before ; now you are a 
 beautiful woman." 
 
 The color came swiftly at his words, and she 
 faltered as she averted her eyes, " Please go on 
 with your story, Ralph. You have scarcely be 
 gun yet. I fear you were in danger." 
 
 He came and stood beside her. " Clara." he 
 pleaded, "look at me." 
 
 Hesitatingly she raised her eyes to his. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I hope I see ?" 
 
 The faintest suggestion of a smile hovered 
 about her trembling lips. 
 
 " I hope I see what you surely see in mine. 
 Come, Clara, you shall choose before you hear 
 my story. Am I to be your husband or friend ? 
 
TAKEN ALIVE. I 
 
 for I ve vowed that you shall not be without a 
 loyal protector." 
 
 " Ralph, Ralph," she cried, springing up and 
 hiding her face on his shoulder, " 1 have no 
 choice at aU. You know how I loved papa ; 
 but I ve learned that there s another ar.d 
 different kind of love. J didn t half understand 
 you when you first spoke ; now I do. You will 
 always see in my eyes what you ve seen 
 to-night." 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 PlCKNICKING in December would be a dreary 
 experience even if one could command all the 
 appliances of comfort which outdoor life per 
 mitted. This would be especially true in the 
 latitude of Boston and on the bleak hills over 
 looking that city and its environing waters. 
 Dreary business indeed Ezekicl Watkins re 
 garded it as he shivered over the smoky camp- 
 fire which he maintained with difficulty. The 
 sun was sinking into the southwest so early in 
 the day that he remarked irritably, " Durned 
 if it was worth while for it to rise at all." 
 
 Ezekiel Watkins, or Zekc, as he was gener 
 ally known among his comrades, had ceased to 
 be a resident on that rocky hillside from 
 pleasure. His heart was in a Connecticut val- 
 183 
 
184 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 ley in more senses than one ; and there was 
 not a more homesick soldier in the army. It 
 will be readily guessed that the events of our 
 story occurred more than a century ago. The 
 shots fired at Bunker Hill had echoed in every 
 nook and corner of the New-England colonies, 
 and the heart of Zeke Watkins, among thou 
 sands of others, had been fired with military 
 ardor. With companions in like frame of mind 
 he had trudged to Boston, breathing slaughter 
 and extermination against the red-coated in 
 struments of English tyranny. To Zeke the 
 expedition had many of the elements of an ex 
 tended bear-hunt, much exalted. There was 
 a spice of danger and a rich promise of novelty 
 and excitement. The march to the lines 
 about Boston had been a continuous ovation ; 
 grandsires came out from the wayside dwell 
 ings and blessed the rustic soldiers ; they were, 
 dined profusely by the housewives, and if not 
 wined, there had been slight stint in New- 
 England rum and cider ; the apple-cheeked 
 daughters of the land gave them the meed of 
 heroes in advance, and abated somewhat of 
 their ruddy hues at the thought of the dangers 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 185 
 
 to be incurred. Zeke was visibly dilated by 
 all this attention, incense, and military glory ; 
 and he stepped forth from each village and 
 hamlet as if the world were scarcely large 
 enough for the prowess of himself and com 
 panions. Even on parade he \vas as stiff as 
 his long-barrelled flintlock, looking as if Eng 
 land could hope for no quarter at his hands ; 
 yet he permitted no admiring glances from 
 bright eyes to escape him. He had not trav 
 ersed half the distance between his native ham 
 let and Boston before he was abundantly satis 
 fied that pretty Susie RollifTe had made no 
 mistake in honoring him among the recruits 
 by marks of especial favor. He wore in his 
 squirrel-skin cap the bit of blue ribbon she 
 had given him, and with the mien of a 
 Homeric hero had intimated darkly that it 
 might be crimson before she saw it again. She 
 had clasped her hands, stifled a little sob, and 
 looked at him admiringly. He needed no 
 stronger assurance than her eyes conveyed at 
 that moment. She had been shy and rather 
 unapproachable before, sought by others than 
 himself, yet very chary of her smiles and 
 
186 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 favors to all. Her ancestors had fought the 
 Indians, and had bequeathed to the demure 
 little maiden much of their own indomitable 
 spirit. She had never worn her heart on her 
 sleeve, and was shy of her rustic admirers 
 chiefly because none of them had realized her 
 ideals of manhood created by fireside stories 
 of the past. 
 
 Zeke s chief competitor for Susie s favor 
 had been Zebulon Jarvis ; and while he had 
 received little encouragement, he laid his un 
 ostentatious devotion at her feet unstintedly, 
 and she knew it. Indeed, she was much in 
 clined to laugh at him, for he was singularly 
 bashful, and a frown from her overwhelmed 
 him. Unsophisticated Susie reasoned that 
 any one who could be so afraid of her could 
 not be much of a man. She had never heard 
 of his doing anything bold and spirited. It 
 might be said, indeed, that the attempt to 
 wring a livelihood for his widowed mother and 
 for his younger brothers and sisters from the 
 stumpy, rocky farm required courage of the 
 highest order ; but it was not of a kind that 
 appealed to the fancy of a romantic young 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 187 
 
 girl. Nothing finer or grander had Zebulon 
 attempted before the recruiting officer came 
 to Opinquake, and when he came, poor Zeb 
 appeared to hang back so timorously that he 
 lost what little place he had in Susie s 
 thoughts. She was ignorant of the struggle 
 taking place in his loyal heart. More intense 
 even than his love for her was the patriotic fire 
 which smouldered in his breast ; yet when 
 other young men were giving in their names 
 and drilling on the village green, he was ab 
 sent. To the war appeals of those who sought 
 him, he replied briefly, " Can t leave till fall." 
 " But the fighting will be over long before 
 that," it was urged. 
 
 " So much the better for others, then, if not 
 for me. " 
 
 Zeke Watkins made it his business that 
 Susie should hear this reply in the abbreviated 
 form of, " So much the better, then." 
 
 She had smiled scornfully, and it must be 
 added, a little bitterly. In his devotion Zeb 
 had been so helpless, so diffidently unable to 
 take his own part and make advances that she, 
 from odd little spasms of sympathy, had taken 
 
i88 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 his part for him, and laughingly repeated to 
 herself in solitude all the fine speeches which 
 she perceived he would be glad to make. But, 
 as has been intimated, it seemed to her droll 
 indeed, that such a great stalwart fellow 
 should appear panic-stricken in her diminutive 
 presence. In brief, he had been timidity em 
 bodied under her demurely-mischievous blue 
 eyes ; and now that the recruiting officer had 
 come and marched away with his squad without 
 him, she felt incensed that such a chicken- 
 hearted fellow had dared to lift his eyes to her. 
 
 " It would go hard with the Widow Jarvis 
 and all those children if Zeb listed," Susie s 
 mother had ventured in half-hearted defence, 
 for did she not look upon him as a promising 
 suitor. 
 
 " The people of Opinquake wouldn t let the 
 widow or the children starve," replied Susie, 
 indignantly. " If I was a big fellow like him,* 
 my country would not call me twice. Think 
 how grandfather left grandma and all the chil 
 dren ! " 
 
 " Well, I guess Zeb thinks he has his hands 
 full, wrastling with that stony farm." 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS, i8g 
 
 He needn t come to see me any more, or 
 steal glances at me tween meetings on Sun 
 day," said the girl, decisively. " He cuts a 
 sorry figure beside Zeke Watkins, who was the 
 first to give in his name, and who began to 
 march like a soldier even before he left us." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Rolliffe ; " Zeke was very 
 forward. If he holds out as he begun Well, 
 well, Zeke allus was a little forward, and able 
 to speak for himself. You are young yet, 
 Susan, and may learn before you reach my 
 years that the race isn t allus to the swift. 
 Don t be in haste to promise yourself to any 
 of the young men." 
 
 " Little danger of my promising myself to a 
 man who is afraid even of me ! I want a hus 
 band like grandfather. He wasn t afraid to 
 face anything, and he honored his wife by act 
 ing as if she wasn t afraid either." 
 
 Zeb gave Susie no chance to bestow the re 
 buffs she had premeditated. He had been 
 down to witness the departure of the Opinquake 
 quota, and had seen Susie s farewell to Zeke 
 Watkins. How much it had meant he was not 
 sure, enough to leave no hope or chance for 
 
1 90 S USIE ROLLIFFE S CHRIS TMA 6. 
 
 him, he had believed ; but he had already 
 fought his first battle, and it had been a harder 
 one than Zeke Watkins or any of his comrades 
 would ever engage in. He had returned and 
 worked on the stony farm until dark. From 
 dawn until dark he continued to work every 
 secular day till September. 
 
 His bronzed face grew as stern as it was 
 thin ; and since he would no longer look at 
 her, Susie Rolliffe began to steal an occasional 
 and wondering glance at him " tween meet 
 ings." 
 
 No one understood the young man or knew 
 his plans except his patient, sad-eyed mother, 
 and she learned more by her intuitions than 
 from his spoken words. She idolized him, and 
 he loved and revered her ; but the terrible 
 Puritan restraint paralyzed manifestations of 
 affection. She was not taken by surprise when 
 one evening he said quietly, " Mother, I guess 
 I ll start in a day or two." 
 
 She could not repress a sort of gasping sob, 
 however, but after a few moments was able to 
 say steadily, "I supposed you were preparing 
 to leave us." 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 191 
 
 "Yes, mother, I ve been a-preparing. I ve 
 done my best to gather in everything that 
 would help keep you and the children and the 
 stock through the winter. The corn is all 
 shocked, and the older children can help you 
 husk it, and gather in the pumpkins, the beans, 
 and the rest. As soon as I finish digging the 
 potatoes I think I ll feel better to be in the lines 
 around Boston. I d have liked to have gone at 
 first, but in order to fight as I ought I d want 
 to remember there was plenty to keep you and 
 the children." 
 
 "I m afraid, Zebulon, you ve been fighting 
 as well as working so hard all summer long. 
 For my sake and the children s, you ve 
 been letting Susan Rolliffe think meanly of 
 you." 
 
 "I can t help what she thinks, mother; I ve 
 tried not to act meanly." 
 
 "Perhaps the God of the widow and the 
 fatherless will shield and bless you, my son. 
 Be that as it may," she added with a heavy 
 sigh, "conscience and His will must guide in 
 everything. If He says go forth to battle, what 
 am I that I should stay you?" Although 
 
i 9 2 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 she did not dream of the truth, the Widow 
 Jarvis was a disciplined soldier herself. To 
 her, faith meant unquestioning submission and 
 obedience; she had been taught to revere a 
 jealous and an exacting God rather than a loving 
 one. The heroism with which she pursued 
 her toilsome, narrow, shadowed pathway was 
 as sublime as it was unrecognized on her part. 
 After she had retired she wept sorely, not only 
 because her eldest child was going to danger, 
 and perhaps death, but also for the reason 
 that her heart clung to him so weakly and sel 
 fishly, as she believed. With a tenderness of 
 which she was half-ashamed she filled his wal 
 let with provisions which would add to his 
 comfort, then, both to his surprise and her 
 own, kissed him good-by. He left her and 
 the younger brood with an aching heart of 
 which there was little outward sign, and with , 
 no loftier ambition than to do his duty; she J 
 followed him with deep, wistful eyes till he, 
 and next the long barrel of his rifle, disap 
 peared in an angle of the road, and then her 
 interrupted work was resumed. 
 
 Susie Rolliffe was returning from ar errand 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 193 
 
 to a neighbor s when she heard the sound of 
 long- rapid steps. 
 
 A hasty glance revealed Zeb in something 
 like pursuit. Her heart fluttered slightly, for 
 he had looked so stern and sad of late that she 
 had felt a little sorry for him in spite of her 
 self. But since he could "wrastle" with 
 nothing more formidable than a stony farm, 
 she did not wish to have anything to say to 
 him, or meet the embarrassment of explaining 
 a tacit estrangement. She was glad, therefore, 
 that her gate was so near, and passed in as if 
 she had not recognized him. She heard his 
 steps become slower and pause at the gate, 
 and then almost in shame in being guilty of 
 too marked discourtesy, she turned to speak, 
 but hesitated in surprise, for now she recog 
 nized his equipment as a soldier. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Jarvis, where are you going?" 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 A dull red flamed through the bronze of his 
 thin cheeks as he replied awkwardly, "I 
 thought I d take a turn in the lines around 
 Boston/ 
 
 "Oh, yes," she replied mischievously, "take 
 
194 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 a turn in the lines. Then we may expect you 
 back by corn-husking? " 
 
 He was deeply wounded, and in his embar 
 rassment could think of no other reply than 
 the familiar words, " Let not him that gird- 
 eth on his harness boast himself as he that 
 putteth it off. 
 
 "I can t help hoping, Mr. Jarvis, that 
 neither you nor others will put it off too soon, 
 not, at least, while King George claims to 
 be our master. When we re free I can stand 
 any amount of boasting." 
 
 "You ll never hear boasting from me, Miss 
 Susie ; " and then an awkward silence fell be 
 tween them. 
 
 Shyly and swiftly she raised her eyes. He 
 looked so humble, deprecatory, and unsoldier- 
 like that she could not repress a laugh. "I m 
 not a British cannon," she began, "that you 
 should be so fearful." 
 
 His manhood was now too deeply wounded 
 for further endurance even from her, for he 
 suddenly straightened himself, and throwing 
 his rifle over his shoulder, said sternly, " I m 
 not a coward. I never hung back from fear. 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 195 
 
 but to keep mother from charity, so I could 
 fight or die as God wills. You may laugh at 
 the man who never gave you anything but 
 love, if you will, but you shall never laugh at 
 my deeds. Call that boasting or not as you 
 please," and he turned on his heel to depart. 
 
 His words and manner almost took away the 
 girl s breath, so unexpected were they, and 
 unlike her idea of the man. In that brief 
 moment a fearless soldier had flashed himself 
 upon her consciousness, revealing a spirit that 
 would flinch at nothing, that had not even 
 quailed at the necessity of forfeiting her es 
 teem, that his mother might not want. Hu 
 miliated and conscience-stricken that she had 
 done him so much injustice, she rushed for 
 ward, crying, "Stop, Zebulon ; please do not 
 go away angry with me ! I do not forget that 
 we have been old friends and playmates. I m 
 willing to own that I ve been wrong about you, 
 and that s a good deal for a girl to do. I only 
 wish I were a man, and I d go with you. 1 
 
 Her kindness restored him to his awkward 
 self again, and he stammered, " I wish you 
 were no, I don t I merely stopped, thinking 
 
296 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 you might have a message ; but I d rather not 
 take any to Zeke Watkins, will, though, if 
 you wish, It cut me all up to have you think 
 I was afraid," and then he became speechless. 
 
 " But you acted as if you were afraid of me, 
 and that seemed so ridiculous." 
 
 He looked at her a moment so earnestly with 
 his dark, deep-set eyes that hers dropped. 
 Miss Susie," he said slowly, and speaking 
 with difficulty, " I am afraid of you, next to 
 God. I don t suppose I ve any right to talk 
 to you so, and I will say good-by. I was reck 
 less when I spoke before. Perhaps you ll go 
 and see mother. My going is hard on her." 
 
 His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, 
 as if he were taking his last look, then he 
 turned slowly away. 
 
 "Good-by, Zeb," she called softly. "I 
 didn t I don t understand. Yes, I will go to, 
 see your mother." 
 
 Susie also watched him as he strode away. 
 He tKbught he could continue on steadfastly 
 "without looking back, but when the road turned 
 he also turned, fairly tugged right about by his 
 loyal heart. She stood where he had left her. 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 197 
 
 and promptly waved her hand. He doffed his 
 cap, and remained a moment in an attitude 
 that appeared to her reverential, then passed 
 out of view. 
 
 The moments lapsed, and still she stood in 
 the gateway, looking down the vacant road as 
 if dazed. Was it in truth awkward, bashful 
 Zeb Jarvis who had just left her? He seemed 
 a new and distinct being in contrast to the 
 youth whom she had smiled at and in a meas 
 ure scoffed at. The little Puritan maiden was 
 not a reasoner, but a creature of impressions 
 and swift intuitions. Zeb had not set his teeth, 
 faced his hard duty, and toiled that long sum 
 mer in vain. He had developed a manhood 
 and a force which in one brief moment had 
 enabled him to compel her recognition. 
 
 "He will face anything," she murmured. 
 "He s afraid of only God and me; what a 
 strange thing to say, afraid of me next to 
 God ! Sounds kind of wicked. What can he 
 mean? Zeke Watkins wasn t a bit afraid of 
 me. As mother said, he was a little forward, 
 and I was fool enough to take him at his own 
 valuation. Afraid of me ! How he stood with 
 
i 9 8 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 his cap off ! Do men ever love so ? Is there 
 a kind of reverence in some men s love ? How 
 absurd that a great strong, brave man, ready 
 to face cannons, can bow down to such a 
 little Her fragmentary exclamations ended 
 in a peal of laughter, but tears dimmed her 
 blue eyes. 
 
 Susie did visit Mrs. Jarvis, and although the 
 reticent woman said little about her son, what 
 she did say meant volumes to the girl who 
 now had the right clew in interpreting his ac 
 tion and character. She too was reticent. 
 New-England girls rarely gushed in those 
 days, so no one knew she was beginning to 
 understand. Her eyes, experienced in country 
 work, were quick, and her mind active. " It 
 looks as if a giant had been wrestling with this 
 stony farm," she muttered. 
 
 Zeb received no ovations on his lonely tramp 
 to the lines, and the vision of Susie Rolliffe 
 waving her hand from the gateway would have 
 blinded him to all the bright and admiring 
 eyes in the world. He was hospitably enter 
 tained, however, when there was occasion ; 
 but the advent of men bound for the army had 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 199 
 
 become an old story. Having at last inquired 
 his way to the position occupied by the Con 
 necticut troops, he was assigned to duty in the 
 same company with Zeke Watkins, who gave 
 him but a cool reception, and sought to over 
 awe him by veteran-like airs. At first poor 
 Zeb was awkward enough in his unaccustomed 
 duties, and no laugh was so scornful as that of 
 his rival. Young Jarvis, however, had not 
 been many days in camp before he guessed 
 that Zeke s star was not in the ascendant. 
 There was but little fighting required, but 
 much digging of intrenchments, drill, and 
 monotonous picket duty. Zeke did not take 
 kindly to such tasks, and shirked them when 
 possible. He was becoming known as the 
 champion grumbler in the mess, and no one 
 escaped his criticism, not even " Old Put," 
 as General Putnam, who commanded the Con 
 necticut quota, was called. Jarvis, on the 
 other hand, performed his military duties as he 
 had worked the farm, and rapidly acquired the 
 bearing of a soldier. Indomitable Putnam 
 gave his men little rest, and was ever seeking 
 to draw his lines nearer to Boston and the 
 
200 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 enemy s ships. He virtually fought with pick 
 and shovel, and his working parties were often 
 exposed to fire while engaged in fortifying the 
 positions successively occupied. The Opin- 
 quake boys regarded themselves as well sea 
 soned to such rude compliments, and were not 
 a little curious to see how Zeb would handle a 
 shovel with cannon-balls whizzing uncomfort 
 ably near. The opportunity soon came. Old 
 Put himself could not have been more coolly 
 oblivious than the raw recruit. At last a ball 
 smashed his shovel to smithereens ; he quietly 
 procured another and went on with his work. 
 Then his former neighbors gave him a cheer, 
 while his captain clapped him on the shoulder, 
 and said, "Promote you to be a veteran on 
 the spot ! " 
 
 The days had grown shorter, colder, and 
 drearier, and the discomforts of camp-life, 
 harder to endure. There were few tents even 
 for the officers, and the men were compelled 
 to improvise such shelter as circumstances per 
 mitted. Huts of stone, wood, and brush, and 
 barricades against the wind, lined the hillside, 
 and the region already was denuded of almost 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS, 201 
 
 everything that would burn. Therefore, when 
 December came, Zeke Watkins found that 
 even a fire was a luxury not to be had without 
 trouble. He had become thoroughly disgusted 
 with a soldier s life, and the military glory 
 which had at first so dazzled him now wore the 
 aspect of the wintry sky. He had recently 
 sought and attained the only promotion for 
 which his captain now deemed him fitted, that 
 of cook for about a dozen of his comrades ; 
 and the close of the December day found him 
 preparing the meagre supper which the limited 
 rations permitted. By virtue of his office,. 
 Zeke was one of the best-fed men in the army, 
 for if there were any choice morsels he could 
 usually manage to secure them ; still, he was 
 not happy. King George and Congress were 
 both pursuing policies inconsistent with his 
 comfort, and he sighed more and more fre 
 quently for the wide kitchen-hearth of his 
 home, which was within easy visiting distance- 
 of the Rolliffe farm-house. His term of en 
 listment expired soon, and he was already 
 counting the days. He was not alone in his; 
 discontent, for there was much homesickness 
 
202 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 and disaffection among the Connecticut troopSc 
 Many had already departed, unwilling to stay 
 an hour after the expiration of their terms ; 
 and not a few had anticipated the periods 
 which legally released them from duty. The 
 organization of the army was so loose that 
 neither appeals nor threats had much influence, 
 and Washington, in deep solicitude, saw his 
 troops melting away. 
 
 It was dark by the time the heavy tramp of 
 the working party was heard returning from 
 the fortifications. The great mess pot, partly 
 filled with pork and beans, was bubbling over 
 the fire ; Zeke, shifting his position from time to 
 time to avoid the smoke which the wind, as if it 
 had a spite against him, blew in his face, was 
 sourly contemplating his charge and his lot, 
 bent on grumbling to the others with even 
 greater gusto than he had complained to him 
 self. His comrades carefully put away their 
 intrenching tools, for they were held responsi 
 ble for them, and then gathered about the fire, 
 clamoring for supper. 
 
 "Zeke, you lazy loon," cried Nat Atkinson, 
 "how many pipes have you smoked to-day? 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 203 
 
 If you d smoke less and forage and dun the 
 commissary more, we d have a little fresh meat 
 once in a hundred years." 
 
 "Yes, just about once in a hundred years !" 
 snarled Zeke. 
 
 * You find something to keep fat on, any 
 how. We ll broil you some cold night. Trot 
 out your beans if there s nothing else." 
 
 "Growl away," retorted Zeke. " Twon t 
 be long before I ll be eating chickens and 
 pumpkin-pie in Opinquake, instead of cooking 
 beans and rusty pork for a lot of hungry 
 wolves." 
 
 "You d be the hungriest wolf of the lot if 
 you d a been picking and shovelling frozen 
 ground all day." 
 
 "I didn t list to be a ditch-digger!" said 
 Zeke. I thought I was going to be a soldier. 
 
 "And you turned out a cook ! " quietly re 
 marked Zeb Jarvis. 
 
 "Well, my hero of the smashed shovel, what 
 do you expect to be, Old Put s successor? 
 You know, fellows, it s settled that you re to dig 
 your way into Boston, tunnel under the water 
 when you come to it. Of course Put will die 
 
204 S US IE ROLLIFFE 5 CHRIS TMA S. 
 
 of old age before you get half there. Zeb ll 
 be the chap of all others to command a divi 
 sion of shovellers. I see you with a pickaxe 
 strapped on your side instead of a sword." 
 
 "Lucky I m not in command now/ replied 
 Zeb, "or you d shovel dirt under fire to the last 
 hour of your enlistment. I d give grumblers 
 like you something to grumble about. See 
 here, fellows, I m sick of this seditious talk in 
 our mess. The Connecticut men are getting to 
 be the talk of the army. You heard a squad 
 of New-Hampshire boys jeer at us to-day, and 
 ask, When are ye going home to mother? 
 You ask, Zeke Watkins, what I expect to be. 
 I expect to be a soldier, and obey orders as 
 long as Old Put and General Washington want 
 a man. All I ask is to be home summers long 
 enough to keep mother and the children off 
 the town. Now what do you expect to be 
 after you give up your cook s ladle ? " 
 
 " None o your business." 
 
 " He s going home to court Susie Rolliffe," 
 cried Nat Atkinson. "They ll be married in 
 the spring, and go into the chicken business. 
 That d just suit Zeke." 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 205 
 
 "It would not suit Susie Rolliffe," said 
 Zeb, hotly. "A braver, better girl doesn t 
 breathe in the colonies, and the man that 
 says a slurring word against her s got to fight 
 me." 
 
 "What! Has she given Zeke the mitten 
 for your sake, Zeb?" piped little Hiram 
 Woodbridge. 
 
 "She hasn t given me anything, and I ve 
 got no claim ; but she is the kind of girl that 
 every fellow from Opinquake should stand up 
 for. We all know that there is nothing chick 
 en-hearted about her." 
 
 "Right, by George, George W., I mean, 
 and not the king," responded Hiram Wood- 
 bridge. " Here s to her health, Zeb, and your 
 success ! I believe she d rather marry a soldier 
 than a cook." 
 
 "Thank you," said Zeb. "You stand as 
 good a chance as I do ; but don t let s bandy 
 her name about in camp any more n we would 
 our mothers . The thing for us to do now is 
 to show that the men from Connecticut have 
 as much backbone as any other fellows in the 
 army, North or South. Zeke may laugh at 
 
206 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Old Put s digging, but you ll soon find that 
 he ll pick his way to a point where he can give 
 the Britishers a dig under the fifth rib. We ve 
 got the best general in the army. Washing, 
 ton, with all his Southern style, believes in 
 him and relies on him. Whether their time s 
 up or not, it s a burning shame that so many 
 of his troops are sneaking off home." 
 
 "It s all very well for you to talk, Zeb 
 Jarvis," growled Zeke. "You haven t been 
 here very long yet ; and you stayed at home 
 when others started out to fight. Now that 
 you ve found that digging and not fighting is 
 the order of the day, you re just suited. It s 
 the line of soldiering you are cut out for. 
 When fighting men and not ditch-diggers are 
 wanted, you ll find me 
 
 "All right, Watkins," said the voice of Cap 
 tain Dean from without the circle of licfht. 
 
 o 
 
 "According to your own story you are just 
 the kind of man needed to-night, no ditch- 
 digging on hand, but dangerous service. I de 
 tail you, for you ve had rest compared with 
 the other men. I ask for volunteers from 
 those who ve been at work all day." 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 207 
 
 Zeb Jarvis was on his feet instantly, and old 
 Ezra Stokes also began to rise with difficulty. 
 " No, Stokes," resumed the officer, "you can t 
 go. I know you ve suffered with the rheuma 
 tism all day, and have worked well in spite of it. 
 For to-night s work I want young fellows with 
 good legs and your spirit. How is it you re 
 here anyhow, Stokes? Your time s up." 
 
 " We ain t into Boston yet," was the quiet 
 reply. 
 
 " So you want to stay ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then you shall cook for the men till you re 
 better. I won t keep so good a soldier, 
 though, at such work any longer than I can 
 help. Your good example and that of the 
 gallant Watkins has brought out the whole 
 squad. I think I ll put Jarvis in command, 
 though ; Zeke might be rash, and attempt the 
 capture of Boston before morning ;" and the 
 facetious captain, who had once been a neigh 
 bor, concluded, "Jarvis, see that every man s 
 piece is primed and ready for use. Be at my 
 hut in fifteen minutes." Then he passed on 
 to the other camp-fires. 
 
2oS SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 In a few minutes Ezra Stokes was alone by 
 the fire, almost roasting his lame leg, and 
 grumbling from pain and the necessity of en 
 forced inaction. He was a taciturn, middle- 
 aged man, and had been the only bachelor of 
 mature years in Opinquake. Although he 
 rarely said much, he had been a great listener, 
 and no one had been better versed in neighbor 
 hood affairs. In brief, he had been the village 
 cobbler, and had not only taken the measure 
 of Susie Rolliffe s little foot, but also of her 
 spirit. Like herself, he had been misled at first 
 by the forwardness of Zeke Watkins and the 
 apparent backwardness of Jarvis. Actual ser 
 vice had changed his views very decidedly. 
 When Zeb appeared he had watched the course 
 of this bashful suitor with interest which had 
 rapidly ripened into warm but undemonstrative 
 good-will. The young fellow had taken pains 
 to relieve the older man, had carried his toofe 
 for him, and more than once with his strong 
 hands had almost rubbed the rheumatism out 
 of the indomitable cobbler s leg. He had re 
 ceived but slight thanks, and had acted as if 
 he didn t care for any. Stokes was not a man 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 209 
 
 to return favors in words ; he brooded over 
 his gratitude as if it were a grudge. " I ll get 
 even with that young Jarvis yet," he muttered, 
 as he nursed his leg over the fire. " I know he 
 worships the ground that little Rolliffe girl 
 treads on, though she don t tread on much at 
 a time. She never trod on me nuther, though 
 I ve had her foot in my hand more n once. 
 She looked at the man that made her shoes as 
 if she would like to make him happier. When 
 a little tot, she used to say I could come and 
 live with her when I got too old to take care 
 of myself. Lame as I be, I d walk to Opin- 
 quake to give her a hint in her choosin . 
 Guess Hi Woodbridge is right, and she 
 wouldn t be long in making up her mind be 
 twixt a soger and a cook, a mighty poor one 
 at that. Somehow or nuther I must let her 
 know before Zeke Watkins sneaks home and 
 parades around as a soldier bove ditch-digging. 
 I ve taken his measure. 
 
 " He ll be putting on veteran airs, telling 
 big stories of what he s going to do when sol 
 diers are wanted, and drilling such fools as be 
 lieve in him. Young gals are often taken by 
 
210 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 such strutters, and think that men like Jarvis 
 who darsn t speak for themselves are of no 
 account. But I ll put a spoke in Zeke s wheel, 
 if I have to get the captain to write." 
 
 It thus may be gathered that the cobbler 
 had much to say to himself when alone, though 
 so taciturn to others. 
 
 The clouds along the eastern horizon were 
 stained with red before the reconnoitring party 
 returned. Stokes had managed, by hobbling 
 about, to keep up the fire and to fill the mess- 
 kettle with the inevitable pork and beans. The 
 hungry, weary men therefore gave their new 
 cook a cheer when they saw the good fire and 
 provision awaiting them. A moment later, 
 however, Jarvis observed how lame Stokes had 
 become ; he took the cobbler by the shoulder 
 and sat him down in the warmest nook, saying, 
 " I ll be assistant cook until you are better* 
 As Zeke says, I m a wolf sure enough ; but as 
 soon s the beast s hunger is satisfied, I ll rub 
 that leg of yours till you ll want to dance a 
 jig ; " and with the ladle wrung from Stokes s 
 reluctant hand, he began stirring the seething 
 contents of the kettle. 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 211 
 
 Then little Hi Woodbridge piped in his shrill 
 voice, " Another cheer for our assistant cook 
 and ditch-digger ! I say, Zeke, wouldn t you 
 like to tell Ezra that Zeb has showed himself 
 fit for something more than digging? You 
 expressed your opinion very plain If st night, 
 and may have a different one now." 
 
 Zeke growled something inaudible, and 
 stalked to his hut in order to put away his 
 equipments. 
 
 "I m cook-in-chief yet," Stokes declared; 
 "and not a bean will any one of you get till 
 you report all that happened." 
 
 "Well," piped Hi, "you may stick a feather 
 in your old cap, Ezra, for our Opinquake lad 
 captured a British officer last night, and Old 
 Put is pumping him this blessed minute." 
 
 "Well, well, that is news. It must have 
 been Zeke who did that neat job," exclaimed 
 Stokes, ironically; "he s been a-pining for the 
 soldier business." 
 
 "No, no; Zeke s above such night scrim 
 mages. He wants to swim the bay and walk 
 right into Boston in broad daylight, so every 
 body can see him. Come, Zeb, tell how it 
 
212 S USIE ROLLIFFE 5 CHR IS TMA S. 
 
 happened. It was so confounded dark, no 
 one can tell but you." 
 
 "There isn t much to tell that you fellows 
 don t know," was Zeb s laconic answer. "We 
 had sneaked down on the neck so close to the 
 enemy s lines 
 
 "Yes, yes, Zeb Jarvis," interrupted Stokes, 
 "that s the kind of sneaking you re up to, 
 close to the enemy s lines. Go on." 
 
 "Well, I crawled up so close that I saw a 
 Britisher going the round of the sentinels, and 
 I pounced on him and brought him out on the 
 run, that s all." 
 
 "Oho! you both ran away, then? That 
 wasn t good soldiering either, was it, Zeke ? " 
 commented Stokes, in his dry way. 
 
 "It s pretty good soldiering to stand fire 
 within an inch of your nose," resumed Hi, 
 who had become a loyal friend and adherent oi 
 his tall comrade. "Zeb was so close on the 
 Britisher when he fired his pistol that we saw 
 the faces of both in the flash ; and a lot of 
 bullets sung after us, I can tell you, as we 
 dusted out of those diggin s." 
 
 "Compliments of General Putnam to Ser- 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS, 213 
 
 geant Zebulon Jarvis," said an orderly, riding 
 out of the dim twilight of the morning. "The 
 general requests your presence at headquar 
 ters." 
 
 "Sergeant ! promoted ! Another cheer for 
 Zeb ! " and the Opinquake boys gave it with 
 hearty good-will. 
 
 "Jerusalem, fellows! I d like to have a 
 chance at those beans before I go ! " but Zeb 
 promptly tramped off with the orderly. 
 
 When he returned he was subjected to a fire 
 of questions by the two or three men still 
 awake, but all they could get out of him was 
 that he had been given a good breakfast. 
 From Captain Dean, who was with the general 
 at the time of the examination, it leaked out 
 that Zeb was in the line of promotion to a rank 
 higher than that of sergeant. 
 
 The next few days passed uneventfully ; and 
 Zeke was compelled to resume the pick and 
 shovel again. Stokes did his best to fulfil his 
 duties, but it had become evident to all that the 
 exposure of camp would soon disable him ut 
 terly. Jarvis and Captain Dean persuaded him 
 to go home for the winter, and the little squad 
 
2i 4 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 raised a sum which enabled him to make the 
 journey in a stage. Zeke, sullen toward his jeer 
 ing comrades, but immensely elated in secret, 
 had shaken the dust snow and slush rather of 
 camp-life from his feet the day before. He 
 had the grace to wait till the time of his en 
 listment expired, and that was more than 
 could be said of many. 
 
 It spoke well for the little Opinquake quota 
 that only two others besides Zeke availed them 
 selves of their liberty. Poor Stokes was al 
 most forced away, consoled by the hope of re 
 turning in the spring. Zeb was sore-hearted 
 on the day of Zeke s departure. His heart 
 was in the Connecticut Valley also. No mes 
 sage had come to him from Susie Rolliffe. 
 Those were not the days of swift and frequent 
 communication. Even Mrs. Jarvis had written 
 but seldom, and her missives were brief., 
 Mother-love glowed through the few quaint 
 and scriptural phrases like heat in anthracite 
 coals. All that poor Zeb could learn from 
 them was that Susie Rolliffe had kept her 
 word and had been to the farm more than 
 once ; but the girl had been as reticent a<* the 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 215 
 
 mother. Zeke was now on his way home to 
 prosecute his suit in person, and Zeb well knew 
 how forward and plausible he could be. There 
 was no deed of daring that he would not prom 
 ise to perform after spring opened, and Zeb 
 reasoned gloomily that a present lover, impas 
 sioned and importunate, would stand a better 
 chance than an absent one who had never been 
 able to speak for himself. 
 
 When it was settled that Stokes should re 
 turn to Opinquake, Zeb determined that he 
 would not give up the prize to Zeke without 
 one decisive effort ; and as he was rubbing the 
 cobbler s leg, he stammered, " I say, Ezra, will 
 you do me a turn ? Twon t be so much, what 
 I ask, except that I ll like you to keep mum 
 about it, and you re a good hand at keeping 
 mum." 
 
 "I know what yer driving at, Zeb. Write 
 yer letter and I ll deliver it with my own 
 hands." 
 
 " Well, now I m satisfied, I can stay on and 
 fight it out with a clear mind. When Zeke 
 marched away last summer, I thought it was 
 all up with me ; and I can tell you that any 
 
216 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 fighting that s to do about Boston will be fun 
 compared with the fighting I did while hoeing 
 corn and mowing grass. But I don t believe 
 that Susie Rolliffe is promised to Zeke Wat- 
 kins, or any one else yet, and I m going to 
 give her a chance to refuse me plump." 
 
 "That s the way to do it, Zeb," said the 
 bachelor cobbler, with an emphasis that would 
 indicate much successful experience. "Ask 
 ing a girl plump is like standing up in a fair 
 fight. It gives the girl a chance to bowl you 
 over, if that s her mind, so there can t be any 
 mistake about it ; and it seems to me the 
 women-folks ought to have all the chances that 
 in any way belong to them. They have got 
 few enough anyhow." 
 
 " And you think it ll end in my being bowled 
 over ? 
 
 " How should I know, or you either, unlessj 
 you make a square trial ? You re such a strap 
 ping, fighting feller that nothing but a cannon- 
 ball or a woman ever will knock you off your 
 pins." 
 
 "See here, Ezra Stokes, the girl of my 
 heart may refuse me just as plump as I offer 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 217 
 
 myself ; and if that s her mind she has a right 
 to do it. But I don t want either you or her to 
 think I won t stand on my feet. I won t even 
 fight any more recklessly than my duty requires. 
 I have a mother to take care of, even if I 
 never have a wife." 
 
 " I ll put in a few pegs right along to keep 
 in mind what you say ; and I ll give you a fair 
 show by seeing to it that the girl gets your let 
 ter before Zeke can steal a march on you." 
 
 " That s all I ask," said Zeb, with com 
 pressed lips. " She shall choose between us. 
 It s hard enough to write, but it will be a 
 sight easier than facing her. Not a word 
 of this to another soul, Ezra; but I m not 
 going to use you like a mail-carrier, but a 
 friend. After all, there are few in Opinquake, 
 I suppose, but know I d give my eyes for her, 
 so there isn t much use of my putting on secret 
 
 airs." 
 
 " I m not a talker, and you might have sent 
 your letter by a worse messenger n me," was 
 the laconic reply. 
 
 Zeb had never written a love-letter, and was 
 at a loss how to begin or end it. But time 
 
218 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 pressed, and he had to say what was upper 
 most in his mind. It ran as follows : 
 
 "I don t know how to write so as to give 
 my words weight. I cannot come home ; I 
 will not come as long as mother and the chil 
 dren can get on without me. And men are 
 needed here ; men are needed. The general 
 fairly pleads with the soldiers to stay. Stokes 
 would stay if he could. We re almost driving 
 him home. I know you will be kind to him, 
 and remember he has few to care for him. I 
 cannot speak for myself in person very soon, 
 if ever. Perhaps I could not if I stood before 
 you. You laugh at me ; but if you knew how 
 I love you and remember you, how I honor 
 and almost worship you in my heart, you 
 might understand me better. Why is it 
 strange I should be afraid of you ? Only God 
 has more power over me than you. Will you 
 be my wife ? I will do anything to win you 
 that you can ask. Others will plead with you 
 in person. Will you let this letter plead for 
 the absent ? " 
 
 Zeb went to the captain s quarters and got 
 some wax with which to seal this appeal, then 
 saw Stokes depart with the feeling that his 
 destiny was now at stake. 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 219 
 
 Meanwhile Zeke Watkins, with a squad of 
 homeward-bound soldiers, was trudging toward 
 Opinquake. They soon began to look into 
 one another s faces in something like dismay. 
 But little provision was in their wallets when 
 they had started, for there was little to draw 
 upon, and that furnished grudgingly, as may 
 well be supposed. Zeke had not cared. He 
 remembered the continuous feasting that had 
 attended his journey to camp, and supposed 
 that he would only have to present himself to 
 the road-side farmhouses in order to enjoy the 
 fat of the land. This hospitality he proposed 
 to repay abundantly by camp reminiscences in 
 which it would not be difficult to insinuate 
 that the hero of the scene was present. 
 
 In contrast to these rose-hued expectations, 
 doors were slammed in their faces, and they 
 were treated little better than tramps. " I 
 suppose the people near Boston have been 
 called on too often and imposed on too," Zeke 
 reasoned rather ruefully. "When we once 
 get over the Connecticut border we ll begin to 
 find ourselves at home ;" and spurred by hun 
 ger and cold, as well as hope, they pushed OP 
 
220 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 desperately, subsisting . on such coarse pro. 
 visions as they could obtain, sleeping in barns 
 when it stormed, and not infrequently by a fire 
 in the woods. At last they passed the Con 
 necticut border, and led by Zeke they urged 
 their way to a large farm-house, at which, but 
 a few months before, the table had groaned un 
 der rustic dainties, and feather-beds had lux 
 uriously received the weary recruits bound to 
 the front. They approached the opulent farm 
 in the dreary dark of the evening, and pursued 
 by a biting east wind laden with snow. Not 
 only the weather, but the very dogs seemed to 
 have a spite against them ; and the family had 
 to rush out to call them off. 
 
 "Weary soldiers ask for shelter," began 
 Zeke. 
 
 " Of course you re bound for the lines," 
 said the matronly housewife. " Come in." J 
 
 Zeke thought they would better enter at 
 once, before explaining ; and truly the large 
 kitchen, with a great fire blazing on the hearth, 
 seemed like heaven. The door leading into 
 the family sitting-room was open, and there 
 was another fire, with the red-cheeked girls and 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 221 
 
 the white-haired grandsire before it, their eyes 
 turned expectantly toward the newcomers. 
 Instead of hearty welcome, there was a ques 
 tioning look on every face, even on that of the 
 kitchen-maid. Zeke s four companions had a 
 sort of hang-dog look, for they had been 
 cowed by the treatment received along the 
 road ; but he tuied to bear himself confidently, 
 and began with an insinuating smile, " Perhaps 
 I should hardly expect you to remember me. 
 I passed this way last summer 
 
 "Passed this way last summer?" repeated 
 the matron, her face growing stern. "We who 
 cannot fight are ready and glad to share all we 
 have with those who fight for us. Since you 
 carry arms we might very justly think you are 
 hastening forward to use them." 
 
 "These are our own arms ; we furnished 
 them ourselves," Zeke hastened to say. 
 
 Oh, indeed, replied the matron, coldly ; " I 
 supposed that not only the weapons, but the 
 ones who carry them, belonged to the country. 
 I hope you are not deserting from the army." 
 
 "I assure you we are not. Our terms of 
 enlistment have expired." 
 
222 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 "And your country s need was over at the 
 same moment ? Are you hastening home at 
 this season to plough and sow and reap ? " 
 
 "Well, madam, after being away so long we 
 felt like having a little comfort and seeing the 
 folks. We stayed as long as we agreed. 
 When spring opens, or before, if need be " 
 
 "Pardon me, sir; the need is now. The 
 country is not to be saved by men who make 
 bargains like day-laborers, and who quit when 
 the hour is up, but by soldiers who give them 
 selves to their country as they would to their 
 wives and sweethearts. My husband and sons 
 are in the army you have deserted. General 
 Washington has written to our governor ask 
 ing whether an example should not be made of 
 the men who have deserted the cause of their 
 country at this critical time when the enemy 
 are receiving re-enforcements. We are told, 
 that Connecticut men have brought disgrace 
 on our colony and have imperilled the whole 
 army. You feel like taking comfort and see 
 ing the folks. The folks do not feel like see 
 ing you. My husband and the brave men in 
 the lines are in all the more danger because of 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 223 
 
 your desertion, for a soldier s time never ex 
 pires when the enemy is growing stronger and 
 threatening every home in the land. If all 
 followed your example, the British would 
 soon be upon your heels, taking from us our 
 honor and our all. We are not ignorant of 
 the critical condition of our army ; and I can 
 tell you, sir, that if many more of our men 
 come home, the women will take their places." 
 
 Zeke s companions succumbed to the stern 
 arraignment, and after a brief whispered con 
 sultation one spoke for the rest. "Madam," 
 he said, you put it in a way that we hadn t 
 realized before. We ll right-about-face and 
 march back in the morning, for we feel that 
 we d rather face all the British in Boston than 
 any more Connecticut women." 
 
 "Then, sirs, you shall have supper and 
 shelter and welcome," was the prompt reply. 
 
 Zeke assumed an air of importance as he 
 said, "There are reasons why I must be at 
 home for a time, but I not only expect to re 
 turn, but also to take many back with me." 
 
 "I trust your deeds may prove as large 
 as your words," was the chilly reply ; and 
 
224 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 then he was made to feel that he was barely 
 tolerated. Some hints from his old associates 
 added to the disfavor which the family took 
 but little pains to conceal. There was a large 
 vein of selfish calculation in Zeke s nature, and 
 he was not to be swept away by any im 
 pulses. He believed he could have a prolonged 
 visit home, yet manage so admirably that when 
 he returned he would be followed by a squad of 
 recruits, and chief of all he would be the trium 
 phant suitor of Susie Rolliffe. Her manner in 
 parting had satisfied him that he had made so 
 deep an impression that it would be folly not to 
 follow it up. He trudged the remainder of the 
 journey alone, and secured tolerable treatment 
 by assuring the people that he was returning for 
 recruits for the army. He reached home in 
 the afternoon of Christmas ; and although the 
 day was almost completely ignored in the\ 
 Puritan household, yet Mrs. Watkins forgot 
 country, Popery, and all, in her mother-love, 
 and Zeke supped on the finest turkey of the 
 flock. Old Mr. Watkins, it is true, looked 
 rather grim, but the reception had been reas 
 suring in the main ; and Zeke had resolved on 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 225 
 
 a line of tactics which would make him, as 
 he believed, the military hero of the town. 
 After he had satisfied an appetite which had 
 been growing ever since he left camp, he started 
 to call on Susie in all the bravery of his best at- 
 tire, filled with sanguine expectations inspired 
 by memories of the past and recent potations 
 
 of cider. 
 
 Meanwhile Susie had received a guest earlier 
 in the day. The stage had stopped at the gate 
 where she had stood in the September sunshine 
 and waved her bewildered farewell to Zeb. 
 There was no bewilderment or surprise now at 
 her strange and unwonted sensations. 
 had learned why she had stood looking after 
 him dazed and spellbound. Under the magic 
 of her own light irony she had seen her droop, 
 ing rustic lover transformed into the ideal man 
 who could face anything except her unkind- 
 ness. She had guessed the deep secret of his 
 timidity. It was a kind of fear of which she 
 had not dreamed, and which touched her in- 
 nermost soul. 
 
 When the stage stopped at the gate, and she 
 saw the driver helping out Ezra Stokes, a swift 
 
226 5 USIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMA S. 
 
 presentiment made her sure that she would 
 hear from one soldier who was more to her 
 than all the generals. She was soon down the 
 walk, the wind sporting in her light-gold hair, 
 supporting the cobbler on the other side. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Susie!" he said, "I am about 
 worn out, sole and upper. It breaks my heart, 
 when men are so sorely needed, to be thrown 
 aside like an old shoe." 
 
 The girl soothed and comforted him, en 
 sconced him by the fireside, banishing the chill 
 from his heart, while Mrs. RollifTe warmed his 
 blood by a strong, hot drink. Then the mother 
 hastened away to get dinner, while Susie sat 
 down near, nervously twisting and untwisting 
 her fingers, with questions on her lips which 
 she dared not utter, but which brought blushes 
 to her cheeks. Stokes looked at her and sighed 
 over his lost youth, yet smiled as he thought, 
 "Guess I ll get even with that Zeb Jarvis to 
 day." Then he asked, "Isn t there any one 
 you would like to hear about in camp ? " 
 
 She blushed deeper still, and named every 
 one who had gone from Opinquake except 
 Zeb. At last she said a little ironically, "I 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS, 227 
 
 suppose Ezekiel Watkins is almost thinking 
 about being a general about this time ? " 
 
 " Hasn t he been here telling you what he 
 is thinking about ? " 
 
 " Been here ! Do you mean to say he has 
 come home? " 
 
 " He surely started for home. All the gen 
 erals and a yoke of oxen couldn t a kept him 
 in camp, he was so homesick, lovesick too, I 
 guess. Powerful compliment to you, Miss 
 Susie," added the politic cobbler, feeling his 
 way, "that you could draw a man straight 
 from his duty like one of these ere stump-ex 
 tractors." 
 
 "No compliment to me at all ! " cried the 
 girl, indignantly. "He little understands me 
 who seeks my favor by coming home at a time 
 like this. The Connecticut women are up in 
 arms at the way our men are coming home. 
 No offence to you, Mr. Stokes. You re sick, 
 and should come ; but I d like to go myself to 
 show some of the strong young fellows what 
 we think of them." 
 
 " Coming home was worse than rheumatism 
 to me, and I m going back soon s I kin walk 
 
228 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 without a cane. Wouldn t a come as tis, if 
 that Zeb Jarvis hadn t jes packed me off. By 
 Jocks ! I thought you and he was acquainted, 
 but you don t seem to ask arter him." 
 
 " I felt sure he would try I heard he was 
 doing his duty," she replied with averted face. 
 
 " Zeke Watkins says he s no soldier at all,- 
 nothing but a dirt-digger." 
 
 For a moment, as the cobbler had hoped, 
 Susie forgot her blushes and secret in her in- 
 dienation. " Zeke Watkins indeed ! she ex- 
 
 o 
 
 claimed. " He d better not tell me any such 
 story. I don t believe there s a braver, truer 
 man in the Well," she added in sudden 
 confusion, " he hasn t run away and left others 
 to dig their way into Boston, if that s the best 
 way of getting there." 
 
 "Ah, I m going to get even with him yet," 
 chuckled Stokes to himself. " Digging is only 
 the first step, Miss Susie. When Old Put gets 
 good and ready, you ll hear the thunder of the 
 guns a most in Opinquake." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Stokes," stammered Susie, 
 resolving desperately on a short cut to the 
 knowledge she craved, "you ve seen Mr, 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 229 
 
 Jarvis a-soldiering. What do you think about 
 it?" 
 
 " Well, now, that Zeb Jarvis is the sneak- 
 in ist fellow " 
 
 11 What? " cried the girl, her face aflame. 
 
 "Wait till I get in a few more pegs," con 
 tinued Stokes, coolly. " The other night he 
 sneaked right into the enemy s lines and car 
 ried off a British officer as a hawk takes a 
 chicken. The Britisher fired his pistol right 
 under Zeb s nose ; but, law ! he didn t mind 
 that any more n a sketerbite. I call that 
 soldiering, don t you ? Anyhow, Old Put 
 thought it was, and sent for him fore day 
 light, and made a sergeant of him. If I had 
 as good a chance of gettin rid of the rheuma- 
 tiz as he has of bein captain in six months, I d 
 thank the Lord." 
 
 Susie sat up very straight, and tried to look 
 severely judicial ; but her lip was quivering 
 and her whole plump little form trembling 
 with excitement and emotion. Suddenly she 
 dropped her face in her hands and cried in a 
 gust of tears and laughter, "He s just like 
 grandfather ; he d face anything ! " 
 
2 3 o SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 "Anything in the tarnal universe, I guess, 
 *cept you, Miss Susie. I seed a cannon-ball 
 smash a shovel in his hands, and he got another, 
 and went on with his work cool as a cucumber. 
 Then I seed him writin a letter to you, and 
 his hand trembled " 
 
 " A letter to me ! " cried the girl, springing 
 up. 
 
 "Yes; ere it is. I was kind of pegging 
 around till I got to that ; and you know " 
 
 But Susie was reading, her hands also trem 
 bling so she could scarcely hold the paper. 
 "It s about you," she faltered, making one 
 more desperate effort at self-preservation. "He 
 says you d stay if you could ; that they almost 
 drove you home. And he asks that I be kind 
 to you, because there are not many to care for 
 you and and 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! never can get even with that 
 Zeb Jarvis," groaned Ezra. " But you needn t 
 tell me that s all the letter s about." 
 
 Her eyes were full of tears, yet not so full 
 but that she saw the plain, closing words in all 
 their significance. Swiftly the letter went to 
 her lips, then was thrust into her bosom, and 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 231 
 
 she seized the cobbler s hand, exclaiming, 
 1 Yes, I will! I will! You shall stay with 
 us and be one of us!" and in her excite 
 ment she put her left hand caressingly on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 11 Susan ! " exclaimed Mrs. Rolliffe, who en 
 tered at that moment, and looked aghast at the 
 scene. 
 
 " Yes, I will!" exclaimed Susie, too wrought 
 up now for restraint. 
 
 " Will what ? " gasped the mother. 
 " Be Zebulon Jarvis s wife. He s asked me 
 plump and square, like a soldier ; and I ll 
 answer as grandma did, and like grandma I ll 
 face anything for his sake." 
 
 " Well, this is suddent !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Rolliffe, dropping into a chair. "Susan, do 
 you think it is becoming and seemly for a 
 young woman 
 
 "Oh, mother dear, there s no use of your 
 trying to make a prim Puritan maiden of me. 
 Zeb doesn t fight like a deacon, and I can t 
 love like one. Ha ! ha ! ha ! to think that 
 great soldier is afraid of little me, and nothing 
 else ! It s too funny and heavenly 
 
232 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 "Susan, I am dumbfounded at your behav 
 
 ior ! 
 
 At this moment Mr. Rolliffe came in from 
 the wood-lot, and he was dazed by the wonder 
 ful news also. In his eagerness to get even 
 with Zeb, the cobbler enlarged and expatiated 
 till he was hoarse. When he saw that the 
 parents were almost as proud as the daughter 
 over their prospective son-in-law, he relapsed 
 into his old taciturnity, declaring he had talked 
 enough for a month. 
 
 Susie, the only child, who apparently had 
 inherited all the fire and spirit of her fighting 
 ancestors, darted out, and soon returned with 
 her rosebud of a face enveloped in a great 
 calyx of a woollen hood. 
 
 " Where are you going?" exclaimed her 
 parents. 
 
 "You ve had the news. I guess Mother* 
 Jarvis has the next right." And she was off 
 over the hills with almost the lightness and 
 swiftness of a snowbird. 
 
 In due time Zeke appeared, and smiled en- 
 couragingly on Mrs. Rolliffe, who sat knitting 
 by the kitchen fire. The matron did not rise, 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS, 233 
 
 and gave him but a cool salutation. He dis 
 cussed the coldness of the weather awkwardly 
 for a few moments, and then ventured, "Is 
 Miss Susan at home ? " 
 
 "No, sir," replied Mrs. Rolliffe; "she s 
 gone to make a visit to her mother-in-law that 
 is to be, the Widow Jarvis. Ezra Stokes is 
 sittin in the next room, sent home sick. Per 
 haps you d like to talk over camp-life with 
 him." 
 
 Not even the cider now sustained Zeke. He 
 looked as if a cannon-ball had wrecked all his 
 hopes and plans instead of a shovel. " Good- 
 evening, Mrs. Rolliffe," he stammered; " I 
 guess I ll I ll go home." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Jarvis had a spiritual conflict that 
 day which she never forgot. Susie s face had 
 flashed at the window near which she had sat 
 spinning, and sighing perhaps that Nature had 
 not provided feathers or fur for a brood like 
 hers ; then the girl s arms were about her neck, 
 the news was stammered out for the letter 
 could never be shown to any one in a way 
 that tore primness to tatters. The widow 
 tried to act as if it were a dispensation of 
 
234 SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Providence which should be received in solemn 
 gratitude ; but before she knew it she was 
 laughing and crying, kissing her sweet-faced 
 daughter, or telling how good and brave Zeb 
 had been when his heart was almost break 
 ing. 
 
 Compunction had already seized upon the 
 widow. " Susan," she began, " I fear we are 
 not mortifyin the flesh as we ought 
 
 " No mortifying just yet, if you please, "cried 
 Susie. "The most important thing of all is 
 yet to be done. Zeb hasn t heard the news ; 
 just think of it ! You must write and tell him 
 that I ll help you spin the children s clothes 
 and work the farm ; that we ll face everything 
 in Opinquake as long as Old Put needs men. 
 Where is the ink-horn? I ll sharpen a pen 
 for you and one for me, and such news as he ll 
 get ! Wish I could tell him, though, and see 
 the great fellow tremble once more. Afraid 
 of me ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! that s the funniest 
 thing Why, Mother Jarvis, this is Christmas 
 Day!" 
 
 "So it is," said the widow, in an awed 
 tone. " Susie, my heart misgives me that all 
 
SUSIE ROLLIFFE S CHRISTMAS. 235 
 
 this should have happened on a day of which 
 Popery has made so much." 
 
 " No, no," cried the girl. " Thank God it 
 is Christmas ! and hereafter I shall keep 
 Christmas as long as love is love and God is 
 good." 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 books are subjea to immediate recall 
 
 >- 
 
 19b, 
 
5/1150477 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY