The Columbus journal., 1888-05-02

D"t NNS~ Sf
The light OF the mans noble genius had
flushed his pale cheeks and flashed beauti-
fully in his steel blue eyes. His voice, that
had seemed weak and unsteady as he be-
gan, rang out its bell like tones again as he
saw the sullen faces soften under his match
less power.
..He has made your village blossom by his
love: he has brought smiles to your weary
children's faces: he has planted hope in a
thousand desperate hearts. Do you ask me how
l know! l see 1t N your eyes. l see 1t In the
way your heads rest on Your broad shoulders.
And will You use your new manhood to do
him injury!'
But the man with the bandaged head had
reached the platform, and at this very mo-
meIt. when the orator paused to let his
meaning sink into the hearts Of the people,
he touched Curran on the shoulder and whiS-
pered a few hurried words in his ear.
The people saw their hero's face blanch.
He turned to the fellow with q look that
would break a mans heart, and seemed to be
asking him a question. As the egitator lis
tened TO the reply his knees trembled under
him and he sank into a chair, and still the
messenger of evil bent over him n kept
whispering with poisonous breath into bis
ear. At last Bales stood back from his vic
tim. who bowed his head upon his hands.
Curran's whole body shook with the violence
Of his passion.
The inert people waited. They knew moth
ing else to do. Their hero might nave died
before them, they would never have thought
to stir from their seats. But be rose at last,
n Bales grinned diabolically behind him
They would hear another story now.
Friends, You have heard what / sale"
He spoke as if a great weight was upon him
and his voice came slowly. "Irepeat it, be
patient with your young master; he means
well by you"
But Bales rushed forward and, tearing the
bandages from his head, threw them upon the
platform at his feet. Disease had settled in
swollen and disfigured. He might have been
a ghoul or q gnOme instead of q human
being.
Revenge him. men," he screamed, throw
ing up his arms, ''if you have any spirit in
you l have Just told him-some Of you
spit on the laws, as il they were not for the
rich like him"
1t WAS more like q groan than a shout that
Went up from the crowd before him, which
only waited a word from the bowed, broken
man they loved, to become a ~bloodthirsty
mob. Would he give them that wordf He
had leaped to his feet and thrown his
long right arm in its grandest gesture, and
the murmur of the people died down. His
face was as white as a dead mans, an ashy
white, but his eyes flashed lightning.
Whose wrong is 1t then, this hideous crea.
lures or mine! l will settle my own griev-
ances, l need no mob to right me-" Then
Curran paused q moment. When he began
again it was in a lower tone. BESIDES, the
man is wrong" his voice trembled like a
childs. Il have no-no." he almost broke
down, Il have no wife, AMI am not well,
l must go to my bed, but before I go I want
to be sure you will make no mistake tonight
or tomorrow" He folded his arms across
his broad chest iii a sublime effort of self.
control. His blood boiled in mad fever. every
moment was worth q world to him. agonizina
pictures fioated before his dimmed vision, bu!
he would not stir from his post till he had
conquered this mob. Philip Breton has
shown himself fair to You, be fair with him
II he never did another thing for you-he-he
has Yet deserved your-your patience. You
will excuse me now Iwiu see you tomorrow.
but / need rest. Can | depend on your H. die
not even look at them; his attitude, as he
waited with downcast eyes, was Of q mar
who talks in his SLEEP.
"Yes-yes,' shouted the people, and Their
he turned and stepped off from the platform.
He came down the aisle very strangely. Al
first he would hurry and notice no one. Then
as If by a mighty effort. he would walk very
slowly, then faster again. Then he would stoI
short and put out his hand to some perfect
stranger.
Many eyes watched him curiously when h
separated from his eager friends at the dool
Of the hall and walked rapidly away. Il
Curran had turned off to the road that led Z,
Philip Breton's house on the hill he would
not have gone far alone. but he did not ever
look that way SO long as the half tanned mol
could see him. And the people scattered in
disappointment to their homes.
But Curran is no longer walking in his frs,
direction: he has turned on his heel and made
a route for himself across the fields. Hisfac<
is pointed toward the lights that yet shine
down at him from the stone house on the hill
And the roads are not straight enough fol
the GRAND he is on, nor Is walking fas,
enough, he breaks into q run. Now he fall
over a low fence so violently that a lint
might have been broken, but he only Loses hi
crer h;s male set face as he runs His breath
comes ike the putting of q locomotive; h
can hear his heart throb louder than his foot
falls.
he looks again on his faithless and dishonoret
wife and on the man who has put ms dead
LEST shame upon him. Punishment ca" WIN