The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1895-07-25

/, . s 4
The next moment there was an ex-
clamation from both, for it was the
surplice, with the circle-emblem Of i'm
mortality embroidered upon its front,
that lay there blood-stained and tram
pied.
He sank into the chair again, and
she, who had learned in the last few
months that there were times when it
was best to leave him undisturbed,
silently closed the shutters outside the
broken window and pinned closely
over it the heavy curtains of Mexican
blankets. The room was both sitting
room and study. In the corner prize
dieu, with a threadbare cushion, tes-
titled to the length and frequency OF
his devOtions.
Presently Helen looked anxiously up
from the altar-cloth she was embroid-
ering.
81 wish you would not watch me in
that covert manner" said her husband
with new irritability. ~
He was tired; her woman's heart
child her, after that moment Of strange
and chilled misgiving. 1t was long,
cold walk to the settlement, and the
people there were the most degraded
of his pastoral charge They consisted
only Of ole men, women and children;
the young men were out hunting-a
euphemism for having joined certain
hostile tribes in the northwest.
II have questioned lately, Helen" he
began presently, whether have not,
after all, mistaken my vocation. The
fire has died out of my utterances, my
prayers no longer ascend as on wings
of light, but fall crushingly back upon
my heart. The meaning has gone out
of the Holy Scripture; it's words are
as "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound
and fury, signifying nothing
She spoke gentle, reassuring words,
and the strange foreboding vanished
from her heart.
Long after she had gone to bed, he
was kneeling at the prie-dieu. In the
days that followed, she noticed that
he was unusually silent; that the car
ly services, the prayers and Hastings
became more frequent-the last so
rigorous that she begged to have care
lest his health suffer.
1--WE are commanded" he replied,
so]emnly, Ito cruelty the old man and
utterly abolish the whole body of SIM
He went about his work like man
in a dream. The melancholy that had
always characterized him had become
moodiness, a taciturnity that his wife
learned was best left unquestioned.
His favorite subjects of conversation
had formerly related to his work; now
he never alluded to it. His texts had
been chosen from the New Testament,
that upon which he had most frequent
| ly dwelt being: For their sakes
sanctify myself, that they also may be
| oh t1.11t
his sermons were drawn from the Old
Testament, and particularly from
those accounts that dwelt upon ven
geance and bloodshed. When he read
the lesson telling of the killing Of
Sisera, there was repressed force in
his utterance, an intensity of dramatic
action in the gestures of his slender
hand and flexible wrist that brought
the scene with awful vividness before
his listeners.
"She smote the nail into his tenn
ples-for he was fast asleep and
weary. So he died. His personality
was merged into that Of Jael, and ex.
altation was exultation over the
treacherous and savage deed.
His manner in speaking of his OWL
people had formerly been tinged with
sadness. Was it wild fancy of his
Wife's that it now held a subtle pride
A distinction, too, had evidently grown
up between "these people"-of his
flock and those amongst whom his
, childhood had been passed.
: His walks over the plain became
l more frequent. Helen had supposed
/ their object was the settlement, til
= an allusion to his work there unde
: ceived her. 81 have not been there
I walked twenty, thirty miles owe
/ the plain he said, with an excitemen
{: that all her efforts at restraint coult
t not allow to pass unnoticed.
e Listen" and the words that follow
+ ed were strange to Helen. at is til
T.: tongue of my fathers" went on he
n husband, with solemn pride. "Upo]
IL the vast empty plain, there was
l. sound from heaven as of a might
+ rushing wind, and even as the tongue
T. were given to the disciples at the da
Il of Pentecost, was the language of tn
l. warriors given back to me. With sue
e words did my father speak when n
g told of his brave deeds in the council
g My father was a great brave. He di
e not live amongst the women an
a children. He was not squaw maj
is He was Black Kettle!'
d Bewildered at this strange outburs
a Helen called beseechingly to her hui
II band. He made no reply. 1t wa
/. morning when he arose from the pri
,e dieu.
j. For the next few days except for a
ID almost unbroken silence, he SCENE
J. more like his former SELF Late OF
d, afternoon, word was brought to Hele
le that a woman had been confined
the settlement and was dying for lac
in CT food and clothing. The circur
stances appealed to her with peculi;
e. force. Filling a basket with food al
~ hastily selecting such articles as seer
re ed most needful, she set out on h
lonely walk.
The door Of the hut was ajar. TT
~ one room was empty. In her charj
1 le able visiting in Boston, similar e
NC perience had often confronted her, al
- now, as then, an Involuntary vexatit
~ arose ut having been made dupe
her SymDathieS She made her WI