The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1888-06-15

the sting or remOr-e hereafter ana perhaps
add TO the zest of his triumph the ac-
credited author of ''Cortcs"
He broodod several days upon this idea,
and one night he determined to carry it
out. The weather was chilly, ana a glow
ing coal fire burned in the CRATE of his lib
rary. His wife had retired to rest an hour
ago; IL WAS now past II o'clock. He went
To the desk and took forth the manuscript
of his history. 1t made solid bulk of
sheets. The tears filled his eyes as he
gazed down at the closely written pages,
representing so many hours OF careful toll
But what were they all in theirclabOrated
Thetorial finish compared with the sweet,
spontaneous brillisncy OF "Cortcs''? Hun
dreds Of men could have written this ele-
CANT, easy prose. But the verses OF
"Cortes" had in them the divine, unteach-
able spirit. They were that rarest of rare
,hings, mastery and exquisite poetry.
The history OF Byzantium might mean
reputation, but "Cortes' might mean an
almost everlasting fame.
Lawrence, with faltering steps, drew
near the fire. Its greedy heat devoured
the leaves - he dropped them upon the
scarlet Goals. The work of destruction
Was soon ended. II is always 50 much
easier to destroy than 10 create! What
years of patient work had accomplished a
lew DElcI minutes 4llltNcf-
He sank down on his knees when the
last page was consumed. Hewas terribly
agitsted, and the mental turmoil Of late
weeks made him seem like the phantom
OF his past self. He moved his lips a il
In prayer. He wss, in reality, praying for
pardon TO his dead son. The words were
inaudibie, yet his clasped, uplifted hands
betrayed their character and import. But
presently he rose from his knees with a
palpable shudder as If one OF fear. On the
threshold OF fearful crime, what right
had he todcal in prayer The sacrifice Of
his history could, after all, avail nothing.
His wrong TO the dead would not be one
shade less dark on this account
lie thought something of retiring, cspe-
cially as il WAS then little after mid
night But now that he had taken the
first positive step in evil, he felt dread
lest his wife might be reused from sleep
by his entering their cham ber, and should
address TO him some question which he
would be forced to answer. And how
could | speak to her this night" he
thought, without bctrayin-, my secret ?
| fcar IL would crush its way through my
lips no matter how close / locked them -
He sank upon a lounge, covering his
face with both hands and letting his head
fall backward into one of the soft cEsh-
AOil1 lAt l4tAl lAAti u plil-s si-lttIls
and yet it j. probable that the slumber
which shortly fell upon him was one in
which exhaustion of the body proved deep
enough to overcome excitement OF the
mind.
Ills sleep must have lasted several
hours for the wintry dawn was cleaning
spcctrally in the chamber, and making
the still lighted gas flare thin and sickly
when he Unclosed his eyes. And as he
did so il seemed TO him that he SAW the
form OF his son standing beside heap of
ashes on the hearth place. 1t was new
heap of ashes, not the one his burnt his
tory had made. So real and living was
the form to Lawrence's sight that he ut
tered Gerald's name with a Mortified cry,
as he rose insecurely to his feet.
But an instant later the form had
melted to nothingness. The shape Law
renee saw had doubtless been no ghost
whatever, but merely the remnant of a
dream which had not yet quite floated
away with the departing mists Of sleep.
Lawrence went to the hearth where
that new heap of ashes lay. 1t had some
how attracted his gaze from the moment
that Gerald's form had vanished-per-
haps because the supposed apparition had
faded into air so very near that especial
spot.
Patches of white cleaned here and
there amid the crisp, black debris. Evi-
IDENTIFY, as in the case of the history,
sheets Of paper had been burned.
A sudden thought flashed through Law
rence's mind. He stopped down and cX-
amined one OF the scorched fragments. 1t
contained writing-and In his sons we'll
known hand. But what was the writing?
As he asked himself this question the
sweat broke in cold beads from his
brow. He peered closer over the frag-
mcnt which he held. Five or six words
were plainly leEible there. y quivering z
moan broke from his lips. He turned
and swept lis eyes toward the open desk
in which '"Cortcs'' had lain The manu-
script of the poems was no longer there,
He reeled to a. seat. He had understood
now, or, rather, in the whirl and turmeil
of his frenzed mind lie believed that he
understood.
lit Is the vengeance Of the dcad.7
he Easpcd. My boy has risen from his
grave TO deal NE punishment"
And then there rushed through his
mind the awful realization that both
"Cortes' and his own history were IRE
vocably destroyed. Honor had been saved.
but that only. II seemed 70 hirn rs II the
ground were rocking beneath his fec-.
He comprehended, as he had never doUe
before, the magnitude of his own am.
bition-the greatness of the one hope
which he had relinquished to secure the
still larger promise of another. And now
both were forever lost. An old age
awaited him of goading despair, OF i;u-
measurable se,f-reproach
Three or four hours later he wns found
seated in the arm chair yhich be often oc-
cupied, with head drooped sideways. quite
Iifeless. He must have died from cere-
able time before this discovery.
If he had been in any sort of mental
mood to reflect quietly upon the question
of Geralds poem having met destruction. n.
he might have guessed at the real truth
his own recent proven habit of somnam-
bulism. That would have told him
everything-would have accounted for
everything. He had repeated in sleep the
momentous act just performed while
! awake; and he had repeated it. this sec
ond time, with the manuscript of his
sons treasured poem instead of his own
| history
| And yet, explain the occurrence ration
ally as we may, docs not the vengeance of
the wronged dead seem to have spoken,
on that fatal midnight, in the library of
Campbell Lawrence?
Imagination may easily clothe with SUI
! peruatural dress the severe outlines OF
fact. But even after science has fully
| satisfied us with her colder methods OF
survey, does there not sometimes remain,
in the present tragic instance, n sense
of subtler and more mysterious law work
ing steadily to its retributive end, though
| wrapped IN deepest shadow
|
Paragraphs New and Old,
4 multitude of sparks do not illumin