The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-08-29

purse. You're welcome to it as a gift"
And he was gone, plunging through /
the high grass and bushes, all fringed 1
with scarlet cardinal flowers and nod
ding marigolds, before Israel could stay |
him.
Israel Esmayne crept back to his
house, or rather, the rude cabin, when
was a sort of hostage that one day n
real home should rise on its foundations,
holding the flat bottle close to him, and
glaneing round with furtive, wandering
eyes.
'T needed it," he said to himself,
"yes, / needed it. l didn't know how
much until tasted it. Just one more
taste. 1t slips over ones palate like
glass, so smooth, so rich, so full OF
strength. One more taste, and then"
When the clock struck nine, the whis--
| tie of the way train sounded faint and
far off, and Israel Esmayne rose uneer-
tainly to his feet.
The subtle, burning fumes Of the
| liquid flame had entered into his brain;
the walls seemed to reel about him, the
stars to swim in the great blue firma-
ment overhead. Nothing was real-all
was faint and far off, and visionary.
But the chains of habit are hard to
shake off; and Israel had gone out at
nine o'clock every night for a year.
Cropping his way and walking with
slow, unsteady steps he went, still clasp
| ing the partially emptied flask to his
breast, in the inner pocket of his coat.
He could hear the rush of the river
below; he could see the rails of the track
glistening in the faint starlight; and
mechanically feeling under a cluster of
spice bushes for the switch key, he
knelt down, and stupidity fumbled there
an instant.
''The way train," he muttered to
himself 'Ips all right. And then the
freight train-half-past ten-a quarter
to ten; and"
He stopped down by the river shore
and wet his burning forehead with the
cool drops he could scoop up in the hol-
low of his hand. He sat down on a
fallen tree, and let his head fall on his
palms.
Gam I-drunk?r he muttered, half
aloud. 80 God! have l come to this, in
spite of everything ?''
And the memory of Dorothy Beers
and his sacred promise to her rose up in
his mind, rs one sometimes remembers
promises made TO the dead. In all the
wilde, wild, reeling, rocking world of
his brain, there was but one certainty.
He had lost Dorothy, his soft-stepping,
sweet-eyed, redeeming angel-the one
in all the world who loved and trusted
him most implicitly.
81 don't deserve her." he thought,
scarcely able to shape definite thoughts
in his chaotic mind; "but-if-I had
only fallen down dead before-before
had touched that accursed stuff! She
would have believed in me then"
The fresh, cool night air on his brow
was SOLDERING him little; the touch of
the cold river water cleared the mists
of his clouded brain in some degree.
He rose up, steadying himself by the
slender stem of a young birch tree, that
grew close beside him, and looked
around
Harki a clear whistle, half q mile
away, cleaving the silence like the call
of some sweet -throated bird.
] 1t was the express, whose plume of
lurid smoke spanned half a continent
the long, serpent-like train, glittering
with lights, and carrying a great eye Of
fire in front, which nightly thundered
over the line of rails, and shot like n
meteor out Of sight into the hush and
silence of the woods, westward bound.
The way train stopped at nine, max
ing brief stoppage at Hurtsley station
beyond, a mere wooden shed with a
platform on either side. Half an hour
afterward slow and heavy freight train
followed il, running off on a side track
toward the river shore until the express
should have safely passed. And it was
the special business Of Israel Esmayne
to set the switch for the hurrying ex-
press.
Had he done this?
With an awful doubt poisoning his
heart, he pressed his hands to his tenn
Piles and tried to think. He had been
|, there-he could recall Just how the
dewy rails looked, wet and glistening
in the starlight. He had had the
!. switch key in his hand-that he could
also remember. But was that before or
after the freight had switched of? He
could not remember whether the freight
had passed or not. He did not know
whether he had locked the switch twice
, or once, or, good HeavensI not at all.
, The past was a swaying vacuum, the
, future strange and dream-like. He
. closed his eyes, he pressed his temples
as if either hand had been a vice of iron,
J in the wild, agonizing effort to recall
the last half hour.
, so Godp' he groaned aloud, as he
threw himself on his face in the wet
6lsAorf AAll L kolliE
Something hard struck against his
breast-bOne rs he flung himself down; il
was the fatal flask. He tore it out, half
full of dark red poison, and dashed il
passionately into the bushes. It was
|. that-that that had done all the mis-
chief.
80 Heavenly Fatherm he cried aloud
in his great anguish, ''if it please Thee
TO avert from me this awful crime OF
murder done a thousandfold - and
|. naught but one Of thy miracles can
avert it nOw-I swear before thy pave
ment of stars to touch that DEVILS broth
no more! o God, hear mel o Christ,
save men'
The earth beneath hisgroveling breast
thrilled and quivered as the express
train flew over the rails, and Israel Es-
mayne held his breath, momentarily
expecting the awful crash which should
stain his soul with the eternal brand OF
: Cain.
Hush! An owl hooting afar off in
the woods, the cry of some sad-voiced
night bird overhead, and then-anotheI
whistle clear and cherry. The express
had passed through Hurtsley-passed
through safe and sound! And Israel
J Esmanye, staggering to his feet, gazed
! around him aud instant, clutched
vaguely at the air, and then fell uncon-
scious.
'Uncle, he is coming TO. o, uncle, ]
! knew knew that he was not deadr'
And the soft eyes of Dorothy Beers
were the first thing Israel Esmayne saw
as his soul came out of the world oi
shadows and oblivion, with old Jona-
than leaning on his cane just beyond.