Ceredo advance. [volume] (Ceredo, W. Va.) 1885-1939, 1892-05-04

INC farmer and his Wt4o received ~
cordially. 1t was still early In Ne
evening when he arrived. and the old
rooms were cheerful with sunshine.
But he was tired, the short railway Jour
ney had wearied him, and even the Eve
mile drive from Petersield seemed to
have done him small good, although
the air was fresh and sweet.
His hostess conducted him 70 his
room with apologies, but he scarcely
heard what she was saying. Some
necessary repairs had been going ON in
the upper part of the house; the guest
chamber" was unfit for use, and n
smaller room had been got ready hast
| lily for Mr.. Chase.
There was nothing to complain Of in
the room save its small size. 1t was
furnished with quaint old bedstead,
daintily draped with fresh white dimi-
ty hangings. and everything else was
old-fashioned and pretty in its way.
The window looked out over the vii
lage and its Unfolding downs, softly
gilded now with the first glory of sun
set. There was no ordinary ceiling;
overhead rose n roof like church-roof,
the arches springing from corbels, sup
ported by those carved heads which
were to be found in most of the upper
apartments of the courthouse.
For n few seconds Michael stood at
the open window and let the cool air
breathe upon his worn face. The scent
OF violets fioated up from the old gar
den; the bell began to ring for evening
prayer, and sleeping memories awolxe
with the perfume and chime. How
sweet and familiar all this had been
oncel He thought he had forgotten the
past, out here it was within him, fresh
and living still
As he turned from the window his eve
fell on sculptured head. Just then
Illuminated by the evening light. 1t
was crowned in kingly fashion, and the
royal circlet rose above n massive brow,
and cruel, clever face. The nose was
straight and delicate; n mustache hung
over the mouth, but did not hide the
firm outlines of the thin lips that were
curved into faint but hooking smile.
The sharp contour of the cheek and
the sunken temples told of wasting
mental toll. A man with such face
might have been versed in all the wiles
of statecraft; he would have worked
with his Scheming brain but never with
his hands. He might have raised ar
mics, and directed their advance upon
the foe, but he would never had led
them on to battle with his own sword.
Ii was face that could have looked ON
unmoved while men and women were
tortured, and even the soft western
light that shone upon it with gentle
glow could bring out no sign of tender
ness or nobility.
Yet somewhere, whether lately or in
the far past he could not tell, Michael
had seen face that resembled this.
There was something familiar in the
chiseling of the features and the up
right line between the brows He stood
and gaZed at it with curious feeling IF
repulsion and strange dread. He was
afraid of the face; absurd as il seems,
he felt that it was moclSing him, and
defying him to find that other face that
was like it,
Then, with a sudden impulse, he
walked to the glass, and looked at him
self. There was no installing the like
ness now, that crowned human fiend
had features like his own. In that
carven stone he saw all that was evil in
his own visage deepened and intensi-
ned. few more years of selfish
scheming and of deliberate scorn of all
holy things, and then his mouth would
take that pitiless curve, and that Satan
ic smile might be stamped upon it until
it turned to dust.
He shuddered and passed his hand
across his eyes. Had he been led here
to receive mute warning? Weakened
by long-neglected illness, weary with
incessant toll, he could not shake off
this idea as he would have done
once. 1t would haunt him sleeping and
waking with a fear that he had never
known till now
And was it, after all, merely morbid
fancy? So great are the possibilities Of
good and evil within us that every one
may carry about in his soul the future
angel or the future fiend. The man
who by his own will has been left to
himself" may well be startled il he gets
glimpse of that which self may be-
come. That God does sometimes vouch-
safe these glimpses of the possible we
cannot doubt There, but for His
grace, goes John Bradford" cried the
old Puritan preacher when he saw the
criminal led TO execution.
II will go out of DOORS" thought
Michael, as he left the room. "a walk
through the old village will calm my
nerves, and insure quiet night"
CHAPTER XVIII