The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1894-06-26

what l have come to tell. If, when have
told it, you wish to throw me to the
street and break every bone in my
worthless body, shall not resist you.
In fact, Icouldnot if l would l am too
weak. Observe, for instance, that"
He extended toward MaXey one of his
lean and sallow hands 1t shook like a
leaf.
'"That is tho effect of the whisky. As
long rs money remains to me to pur.
chase oblivion | do not care for luck or
the devil. am one of those uncongen-
ial, solitary individuals who retire with
jug into an obscure place, lock the
door and hide the key from myself. Aft
er have become maniac, fool and
an inanimato brute by turns / emerge
again into the light, more emaciated,
more broken down, one step nearer the
much TO be desired rest that comes at
the end for us all. A cheerful life, sir,
is it nOt?'
He turned his faded blue eyes with
the bloodShot corners toward the star
tied artist, who vouchsafed him no re-
ply, and continued:
Sir you are saying to yourself: rs
this man seeking to excite my sympathy
or what is his object? What possible
interest does he think / can have in his
greWsomo narative?' Very little, sir, in
deed. Only it will afford some excuse
for me perhaps for the performance Of
the most hcartlcss and dcspicable act of
my whole accurscd existence" "
Mr. Dye uttered the last words saw
agoly and vchcmently. His speech in
deed sounded so much like the muttcr-
ings Of broken intellect that Maycy
involuntarily drow back Il pace or two.
Mr.. Dye did not heed him. He went
on:
"You behold in me, Mr.. Maxoy, a
man who believes in q rcmorseless dcs-
tiny-a destiny which may be as obnox-
ious to the victim as bed Of torture,
as plain before him as the nOonday sun,
and which still he cannot escape. He
sees the little steps which lead to the
great end in the distance presenting
themselves one after the other before
him, and he knows that if he fails to
take any one Of them the whole end
would be changed, but still he never
fails to take them. Sir, that is my life
my religion, if you will And so l
am here, impelled by the same incxora,
Bile fate which has pursued me from the
first, and which will pursue me to the
close, to bring shame and an mhap.
pincss into the midst of joy"
"Wcll, sir, what is it? | am quite
prepared by this time for anything, Mr..
Dye. l do not fear anything you can
say"
''Sir, you are too confident of that.
When | last came, you asked me foI
proofs of the shameful story that told
you then have brought them"
There was utter silence, and then
MaXey advanced step and said in a
quiet voice:
"Wcll, sir, l am waiting for you"
Mr.. Dye did not look up. He put his
trembling hand solcmnly into the breast
Of the throaGbaro coat and drew forth q
little package of paper Maxey took il
and saw that it consisted Of two docu.
monts of a legal aspect, which were
variously suparscribed, "Aiiidavit OF
Mary Stephenson" and Affidavit Of
George Stephenson.
MaXcy compressed his lips and looked
no further.
"Ah, " murmurcd the wrctchcd Dye,
''if you only knew what / have pur.
chased ny placing these accurscd papers
in your hand, you would not think Of
me hereafter with so much bitterness. "
"NIr Dyc," said Maxey suddenly,
"tbc timo to drop this mask of yours is
fully ripe"
The sombor man half turned in his
chair.
"Sir, fail to understand you"
'No? Suppose that Were to tell you
| that / know who sent you hcrc?"
The words had a marked effect on Mr..
Dye. He instantly completed that which
the former question had caused him tc
begin and turned wholly about in his
chair facing the artist with an ashy
countcrmco. As ne did 50 his eye fell
upon the picture.
Maxcy noticed his sudden silence,
though he imperfcctly understood the
cause.
Mr.. Dyc fat in his chair without mo,
tion, his faded oycs wide open, looking
intently at lha portrait ON the easel.
There would have been complete 81.
lcnce in the room but for the tickiug OF
the clock ON the mantcl, the escape Of
the burning gas, the distant sound Of
| voices IN tn" ro@r chamber.
Then Mr. Dyo arose, stcadying him.
self ON the chair back with his shaking
hand--mosc. and turning his eyes on
Maxcy held ont his free arm in a qrcs
tioning way toward tho easel.
"Whlt is the matter? iso you i'll?
don't understand you That is picture
my wife skctch2d.
A terrible trembling camo upon cv.
cry portion Of Tho sJmncr mans franc.
He cried cat in u hoayso voico:
''Thc Jews faco! Tho Jews facet
There was a rush like the breath oI
unseen wings from over tho darkencd
river. The Ghostly hand raped at tho
window, and Mr., Dye fell down upon
the floor.
FRO RE CONTINUED.