Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1896-07-21

y
ing his bodily needs. Alas, his we'll
meant words were worse than USE
less, for even his attitude, as be
stood stiff and unbending in the
center of the room, spoke loudly Of
the disgust he felt Had not Martin
learned to hide his feelings, and to
humble himself in his misfortunes,
he would have ordered his visitor
out of the place. AS it was, he en-
dured his presence in silence.
Nothing l can say affects him, "
lamented Mr. Bernard when he
reached home. II do believe he has
not a spark of gratitude in his com
position.
what is the matter with him,
Horace?"
4 am afraid | didn't ask, he an
swered, a little penitently. He
looked i'll, | noticed; but he ruined
his health years ago. 1t is his own
fault. Why, Ellen, l have been
helping him, off and on, for more
than ten years. The worst of it is,
one never knows whether one is not
doing him more harm than good.
All night the thought of the
wretched man, alone and perhaps
dying, in his miserable room haunted
Mrs. Bernard. She could not sleep
for thinking of him, and soon after
breakfast she set out to see for her
self what allied him. 1t was long
past noon when she returned. She
went at once to her husbands study.
Horace" she began, II have
been to see him, and | am sure that
without proper care he will die"
"Who will die?" demanded the
minister, absently, for he was still
engaged on the long deferred task
of composing his sermon.
''Your cousin Martin, Horace"
she answered, looking earnestly into
his face, ''let me bring him home"
Bring him here' The tone ex-
pressed displeasure as strongly as
surprise. "You don't know what
kind of man he isl"
II do, Horace; he has told me all. "
HE never told me anything.
Even last night l could not get a
word out of him" ....
He has sinned dreadfully, Horace,
but he has suffered, too. Do let me
nurse himl People have been very |
hard and cruel to him; he has hardly |
had chance to become different"
Hardly a chance2 I am sure,
Ellen, + have done what I could. 1
have given him money over and |
over again that l needed for other
things"
Eyes, yes, 1 know that you have
helped him, dear, but what he wants
is little kindness" Mrs. Bernard
spoke impulsively, and was quite in
nocent Of any ironical intention. IF
he dies there, and as he is, we shall
never forgive ourselves, and he is
your own cousin, too.
Mr.. Bernard did not want TO do
this thing. but as a Christian man
he dared not hastily refuse. He
wished his wife had left Martin to
him; why should she want to bring
the broken-down scamp into the
very house2 He knew that she was
still looking at him with those ear
nest, tender eyes, and to escape their
scrutiny he began to read over the
notes he had been writing. He had
taken a new text: Lord, if thou
wilt Thou canst make me clean," and
this is what he read, only one short
sentence: 'The man was leper,
loathsome and uncleau, but Jesus did
not turn away; He touched and healed
him." Whatever he had meant
when he wrote the words, they now
held both lesson and a condemna-
ton for him.
Ellen" he said, do what you
wish. All these years am afraid I
have been trying to save people at
arms length. No wonder | have
failed"
IT don't think you have failed,
Horace" she said, in a tone of sur
prise.
I'm afraid have, Ellen. 1 can
write and preach and talk of love,
but I don't possess it. God help me
and make me different.
Before night Martin was estab-
lished in the contest room in the
house, but for weeks he was too i'll
to notice the change from his old to
his new quarters. Mrs. Bernard
nursed him with untiring care, and
she had an ample reward, for when
he at last rose from his bed of sick
ness he had come to his right mind,
and was ready to make the prodigal's
confession, and to receive the prod
igal's welcome home. In spite of
himself his cousin watched his
struggle upwards with many mis-
givings. But as months grew into
years, Martin still patiently wrestled