The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1894-10-24
ALL'S WELL.


A shadow thSt falls like knife be-
tween the dreaming man and his wife.
A shadow at first thin and gray, that
seems. for all it is so slight, to rob the
sunshine suddenly of all its warmth and
brightness, and leave the evening cod
and cherries. a shadow that grows
quickly broader, and blacxer, and icier.
until II bots out the figures Of the wife
and child. and darkens the little porch;
that steals up swiftly, like a cloud of
deadly vapOr round the red tiles of the
cottage roof and wraps all the pictures
at last in impenetrable shroud.
shadow that somehow gathered itself
gradually into the form of a mans face
coarse, thick-lipped, sensuous, with
gloating eyes and a false smile--a face
that might, for all its coarseness. be made
attractive by that Turing smile, yet in
itself cruel and disso.ute, and evil-look-
ing.
Slowly the face energies from behind
that shadowy curtain. Slowly the feat
ures come dimly forth, as one by one
they recur to the tortured mind of the
man in his waking dream. Slowly the
eyes oftthe dream face turn and gaze
down upon him mocking.y
Then great surge of blood-red light
floods over the gliding face. and hides il
from view, and there is on.y the gray
shadow left.
So far the vision had always been the
same; but lately, since the Silent Man
had taken his passage on board the
Amsterdam, there had been something
more which followed ft-another ending
10 the never-ending dream.
An ending in which he sees a scrap OF
paper, traced over with trembling charac-
ters-a letter dated four weeks before
from No. 26 Omaha-ave., LumberviIe. L.
s. A.
The characters range themselves uner-
ringly before his mind
L have snned and God knows 1 have
repented. I do not ask to BE- forgiven
That canno- be. But for our chfd's sake,
for little Goddess sake. come quickly. She
who was once YOUR WIFE"
The Silent Mans hands steals into the
breast OF his coat. and touches something
there-something hard and cold made Of
metal; something THAI he touches softly
and caITesslngiy looking al his fingers
atterward. to make sure that the sea-
waten has not reached Il: something that
IN the darkness Of the night, as he lies
crOuching In the bows OF the tossing boat,
he takes from his breast and examines and
weighs in his hand
And he listens To the washing Of the
waves as they sp-ash on the boats side.
and laughs softly to himself as they. TOO
sfem 70 bear the sans message AIS
We!lr'
An was yet wsll-for what he had - do
The morning dawned al last, when there
on board the boat-dawned with a glorious
uprising of the sun, 10 show THAI the
deathly fog had rolled away that all was
clear as far a. the horizOa-line. that a
salling-ship was standing down toward
them.
They were saved.
Who shall say what those mon felt?
Who shall describe the weeping and
laughter intermiXed. the incOherpnts cries
Of joy. the frantic waving Of the ema-
fafa tod IA ,f,4
fused thanksgiving and importation that
burst from their blackened ips2 Who
shall wonder that but for their failing
strength, they would have east them
selves into the waves. and struggled TO
gain the boat that was lowered TO rescue
them; that in the moment of their p~escr-
walton from a death but few hours dis
tant their minds became distraugh,?
All save the Silent Man.
He alone was calm. To him alone their
rescue seemed not unexpected. To him
alone ii was not. q miracle like 10 the
raising from the dead. To him alone t.
was but the fulhllment Of an omen.
The sailng-ship that picked them up
was bound for Rio; but the Silent Man
was destined 10 dream that strange
dream many a time yet before land was
reached. For several weeks they beat
about the Atlantic. They We're delayed
by headwinds, thrown out of their course
by constantly recurring gales beralmed
for three whole days on the equator. IL
was close upon two months from that
glorious dawn when the little boat had
been espied drifting on the waste of toss
ing waters that they first saw the coast OF
BraZil-like a streak Of blush cloud ris-
ing behind the sealine-opcning out be-
fore them.
Their voyage was nearly at al end.
The blush cloud resolved itself into
dark green masses OF vegetation grow
ing down to the waters edge: the veyeta-
ton became dotted and broken by the
white roofs of buildings: The buildings
collected themselves together. tier be-
yOnd tier, and blocked out the Vegeta-
ton; a great cOncourse of masts ana spars
rose before the buildings; they Were en-
tering Rio harbor.
1t was long yet before the Silent Man
resumed his Journey. There were in
quiries TO be made-inquiries wherein the
object OF that journey was sought for
but not revealed, the story OF the loaS at
the Amsterdam and OF the awful days that
followed II, had 10 be told and told again
a sum Of money was raised and paid TO
him.
At last ne was embarked for New Work
Then followed more days Of dazzling
heat, and glittering water, and the rising
and falling Of the ships deck: days IN
which he lay inactive, watching the
feathery clouds that flOated across the
sky, tracing the ships wake as il wound
over the CLASSY surface Of the sea; ui.hts
creep up the cottage wall, and the face
fashion itself out of the shadow, ard The
flash Of blood that ended IL all. And then
his hand would seek the thing thas he
carried i'm his breast, and ne would .ook
at IL stealthily in the moonlight and laugh
exulungly to himself.
once more he was on land, in the
crowded streets Of New York. lie wanted
to get to LumbervEle; 1t is a long dis
lance. almost half way across the con-
tinent. But he had got plenty Of time to
do that which he had come 10 do
His money would not suffice TO carry
him the whole way For two days he
Travelled by the railroad, faneying in the
motion Of the cars that he was still at
sea, expecting almost. he looked from
the windows Of the car, TO see the leaden-
cO,Ored waves, and the gray mist, and
the tangses of floating sea-weed. Then
his money was gone, and he must walk
Rough, lOosely-made roads. thick with
sand and grit Long days tramps under
the brOi,ing sun, when the little hiIlOck
or the stunted tree, that looked so close
at hand across the unbroken Level of the
prairie, was only reached after half an
hours weary walking Starlit nights
when he cast himself down on the long
coarse grass TO Sleep the deathlke Sleep
of exhaustion. to dream once more that
never-changing dream. Homesteads OF
hewn timber, where he was made well
come i'm rough. yet kindly fashion.
where he was allowed to sleep, perhaps
on a bed Of straw in the empty barn,
where round-eyed children brought him
milk and lunches Of bread. and stayed