The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-07-07
CHAPTER VII.
THE PATH.

ings and directions of q dominating
spirit, so the old bank clerk proceeded
from the private Office. his eyes fixed,
his face pale aud set like some penitent
culprit traversinR a cindered via dolorosa'
His task had been melted out to him.
To study that mobile face. one would
discern at a glance the vascilating weak
ness that was a part OF his character.
He was not naturally q bad man, but
circumstance had set his face towards
the downward path, and ashrewd, tyrani-
cal master was pushing him slowly
farther down the steep incline, until in
sheer despair the conscience-tormented
wretch ceased to struggle.
Away back in this mans life was a
certain dark chapter. Newly-married,
the incumbent of a subordinate govern
mental position, a glass Of wine had led
him to gamble. Step by step he was
drawn into a net spread by unscrupu-
Ious acouaintances. In q last frantic
endeavor to recount bis losses, he bor-
rowed temporarily o small amount from
trust funds. He lost again. The theft
was discovered. Trivial as was the Of
Tense, light as might this first sin be
made before q charitable court, in his
situation, the frightened Wharton saw
only ruin, the ~penitentiarY. Like the
weak coward he was, he fed, abandoning
friends, home, and family, He sought a
foreign land, tried by honest labor to
earn sufficient to reimburse the govern.
ment, and send for his wife and chill
dren. He had never written them.
Shame and lear OF being traced and ar
rested prevented that. Under an as
sumed name he finally returned to
America Time had changed him. He
was accounted dead, forgotten. No one
recognized him. He had long since sent to
the government the amount he had
stolen. He only sought the pardon of his
wife, penitential rehabilitation with his
family, with the idea Of beginning life
over again with them in some secluded
village.
Alas! he found no trace. The sad rec.
ord of their weary waiting was lost in
the whirl and changes of a great city.
Disgraced, their name furnished, they
had hidden themselves afar, where, he
had never found ont.
In his distress, John Wharton took to
drink. One day, accidentally, he was
met and recognized BY an old fellow-em-
ploye in the government service-Arnold
DdCTS. 1uC w "oo Wv eASs
time a clerk in the Ridgefeld bank.
he saw in the disheartened refugee a pill
able tool, in his knowledge Of the past a
menace that would WELD Wharton to his
caprices. From the day that the old
clerk entered the employ Of Abel Mer-
wyn, it was to become the ally, the slave,
the hireling Of the man who could crush
him at his will.
.a~+ {LA hN,~- ~ +hn ~ 10
cradle man as he dreaded the covered
passage way leading from the rear OF
the bank, and emerged on the street. A
sudden dizzy spell seemed to overcome
him. as the broad, faring sunlight daz-
zIed his eyes. For a moment he wavered
unsteadily to and fro, and it was with
difficulty that he collected his benumbed
faculties, and recalled the mission he
had been sent to execute.
81 am to hold, to hide the package"
he told himself, slowly, painfully, like q
dull child memorlzing a difficult lesson,
II am to 90 among the men and play a
part-play-a-part"
A CHASTITY pallor overspread his face
as he repeated the words. Some mental
wrench upsetting the natural faculties,
frightened him. A man ever terrified by
phantoms, the unreal, uncanny lot ap-
portioned him by his hard taSkmaster
was too dreadful, in his present In
hinged mental condition to grapple with.
He had read Of men foigning insanity,
and
John Wharton quickened his footsteps.
Like a scurrying thief evading a Gordon
of police, he traversed alleys, lanes, and
unfamiliar by-wayS- He reached his
lodgings by a rear staircase, entered his
plainly-furnished room, tottered to q
chair, and sunk into it
One hour-two hours. His head bent
on his open hands, he never moved
thinking, thinking! Three hours! A
shambl bling, limping step sounding on the
stairs, and q thin, diSeaSe-worn face
peered in at the door, timidly opened:
SIT might'nt be you, Mr.. Wharton"
projected a hesitating voice.
The old clerk aroused himself with an
effort, struggled to his feet, gulped
. down a great groan, and turned his hol-
low eyes on the intruder.
The latter was a cripple. Partial
paralysis had robbed him Of health in
the prime of life. The one being in all
the wide world whom he could truly
call friend, the single creature in the
universe who seemed to possess a parti-
Gle of genuine affection tor him. Whar-
ton had picked the poor wretch from the
gutter one dark night a year agone, and
out of sheer sympathy, Tom Cupples, as
he was called, had since been his pen
sioner.
Faithful as a slave, grateful as .
starving dog, lifted to comfort and
plenty, the cripple had since taken care
of his room, meIded his clothes, black.
enei his boots, tried In his half, helpless
way to earn the food he ate.
"Goodncssr!' he calculated, as Whar-
ton turned his wan face towards him,
what has happened? Mr.. Wharton,
you are i'll! / will send for a doctor"
In genuine alarm. the frightened-faced
Cupples started towards the door.
Stop ordered Whorton, in a frenzy
of irritability. II am not i'll. The bank
has failed, amigo to the tavern and
bring me some liquor"
Tom Cupples recoiled as if from an
electric shock. A mute horror came in
to his dull eyes.
"Liquor9" he gasped, tottering-''ohl
MI. Wharton"
Liquor! well might he thrill. 1t had
been his ruin-from the sparse conf
dences Of the protector he revered, be
knew what it had also done for him..
"Go, I tell you" cried the frantic
Wharton, for the first time in his life
employing a h~arshness toward the Grip
pie that Jared his sensitive nature like
q blow. IL must, l will have it. Fiery
-. ,lo,hto l,ctilal and ba nnir1t 7