Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1897-11-23
THE LAST CONFESSION.
By HALL GAME,
Author Of The scapegoa" "The Bondman 1.-The Deemse &c

Gan Rights Keserved.)

were about to do there, but my own |
danger threatened me, and | wished |
: to see and know no more.
AS / was passing out of the town |
in the moonlight an hour before mid |
night, with my grumbling tentmen |
and muleteers at my heels, man |
stepped out of the shadow of the gate |
way arch and leered in my face and
said, in broken English: $50 your |
Christian friend is corrected by Al |
lah?"
1t was the scoundrel whom | had
seen in the coffee-house. l knew hs
must be Larby, and that he had be- |
trayed his master at last. Alas, | knew
that he was aware that / had seen all. !
At that moment, looking down from
my horses back into the mans evil
face my whole nature changed. / re-
membered the one opportunity which
the American had lost-out of WAN
dering impulse of human tenderness
of saving his own life by taking the
life of him that threatened it; and |
said in my heart of hearts, 'Now God
in heaven keep me from the like temp
tation.'
All, Father, do not shrink from me;
think of it, only of it, | was fifteen
hundred miles from home, and l was
going back to my dying boy.
III.
Father. l counted it up Every mile
of the distance / counted it. And |
reckoned every hour since my wife's
letter had been written against the
progress and period Of my boys dis
ease. SO many days since the date Of
the letter, and Noel had been ailing
and i'll so many days before that. The
gross sum of those days was so much,
| and in that time the affection, if it ran
the course | looked for, must have
reached such and such stage. While
toiled along over the broad wastes Of
| that desolate land I seemed to know
at any moment what the condition
must be at the utmost and best of my
boy in his bed at home.
| Then l reckoned the future as well
as the past So many days it would
take me to ride to Tangier, so many
hours to cross from Tangier to CadiZ,
so many days and nights by rail from
Cadiz to London. The grand total of
time past since my poor Noel first be-
came unwell, and of time to come
before l could reach his side, would
be SO much. What would his condi
ton be then? l knew that also. It
would be so and SO.
Thus, step by step I counted it all
UP. The interval would be long, very
long, between the beginning of the at
tack and my getting home, but not too
long for my hopes. All going we'll
with me I should still arrive in time.
If the disease had taken an evil turn
my boy might perhaps be in its last
stages. But then | would be there and
could save him. The operation which
| had spent five years SCf my life to
master would bring him'back from the
gates Of death itself
Father had no doubt of that, and
| had no doubt of my calculations.
Lying here now it seems as if the
like fool in the certainty of the life
l loved, and reckoning nothing Of the
hundred poor chances that might
snuff it out like a candle Call it
frenzy, call it madness, nevertheless
it Kept my heart alive and saved ME
from despair.
But 0, the agony of my impatience!
Il anything should stop me now! Let
me be one day later, only enc, and
what might not occur! Then how
many were the dangers of delay.
First, there was the possibility of i'll
ness overtaking me. Ny health was
not better, but worse than when
left home. | was riding from sun
rise to sunset, and not sleeping at
nights. No matter! | put all fear
from that cause away from me.
! Though my limbs refused to bear me
up, and under the affection of my
| nerves my muscles lost the power to
I hp
onto the back Of my horse | should
still go on.
But then there was the worse dan
ger of coming into collision with the
fanaticism of the people through
whose country l had to pass. / did
not fear the fate of the American,
for l could not be guilty of his folly
| But / remembered the admission Of
the English consul at Tangier that a
! stranger might offend the supersti-
tons of the Muslems unwittingly; |
| recalled his parting words of counsel,
| spoken half in jest, Keep out of
| Moorish prison." and the noisome
dungeon into which the young Ber-
! Der had been cast arose before nv
mind in visions of horror.
| What precautions l took to avoid
these dangers OF delay would be a long
and foolish story. Also, it would be
mean and abject one, and l should
| be ashamed to tell it. How l saluted
every scurvy beggar on the way with
the salutation of his faith and country;
how l dismounted as l approached
town or a village, and only returned
to the saddle when | had gone through
it; how | uncovered my head-in ig-
norance of Eastern custom-as l went
by saints house, and how at length
remembering the Jewish banker who
was beaten) I took off my shoes and
walked barefoot as l passed in front of
a mosque.
Yes, it was l who paid all this need
less homage; l whose pride has always
| been my bane; | who could not bend
the knee to be made knight; | who
have felt humility before no man. Even
so it was. In my eagerness, my impa-
thence, my dread of impeachment on my
journey home TO my darling who wait
ed for me there. l was studying the
faces and grovelling at the feet of that
race Of ignorant fanatics
But the worst of my impediments
were within my own camp. The
American was right The Moor can
not comprehend a disinterested action