The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-04-23


honest. and made himself too conspic-
uous in this affair to succeed in an
undertaking requiring so much disSim-
ulation, if not actual falsehood. Indeed,
he was not sure that in his present
state of mind he could hear Frederick 5
name mentioned without flushing. and.
Slight as such a hint might be, it would
be enough to direct attention to Fred
erlck, which, once done, could but lead
to discovery and permanent disgrace TO
all who bore the name of Sutherland.
What was he to do, then? How avoid
a consequence he found himself abso-
lutely unable to face? 1t was a prob
lem which this night must solve for
him. But how? As 1 have said, he
went down to his house to think.
Sweetwater was not a man of abso-
Lutte rectitude. He was not SO much
high-minded as large-hearted. He had,
beside, certain foibles. In the first
place, he was vain, and vanity in a
very plain man is all the more acute
since it centers in his capabilities
rather than in his appearance. Had
Sweetwater been handsome, or even
passably attractive, he might have
been satisfied with the appreciation of
demure maidens and a comradeship
with his fellows. But, being one who
could hope for nothing of this kind, not
even for a decent return to the unreal
soning heart-worship he felt himself
capable of paying. and which he had
once paid for few short days, till,
warned of his presumption by the inso-
lence of the recipient, he had fixed his
hope and his ambition on doing some
thing which would arouse the admira-
ton of those about him and bring him
into that prominence to which he felt
himself entitled That he, a sl<illful
musician, should desire to be known as
brilliant detective, is only one of the
anomalies of human nature which it
would be folly and a waste of time on
our part to endeavor to explain. That,
having chosen to exercise his wits in
this way, he should so well succeed
that he dared not. for his life. continue
in the work he had so publicly under
taken, Occasioned in him a pang of dis
appointment almost as insufferable as
that brought by the realization of what
his efforts were likely to bring upon
the man to whose benevolence he owed
his very life. Hence his struggle,
which must be measured by the extent
of his desires and the limitations which
had been set to his nature by his sur
roundings and the circumstances of his
life and daily history.
If we enter with HIM into the humble
cottage where he was born and from
which he had hardly strayed more than
a dozen miles in the twenty-five years
of his circumscribed life, we may be
able to understand him better.
1t was an implanted house, Derched
on an arid hillside, with nothing before
it but the limitleSS see. He had found
his way to it mechanically, but as he
approached the narrow doorway he
paused and turned his face towards the
stretch of heaYing waters, whose low
or loud booming had been first his
cradle song, and then the ceaSleSS ac-
compartment of his later thoughts and
aspirations. 1t was heaving yet, cease
lessly heaving, and in it's loud complaint
there was sound of moaning not al
ways to be found there, or so 1T seemed
to Sweetwater in his present troubled
mood.
Signing as this sound reached his ear,
and shuddering as it's meaning touched
his heart, Sweetwater pushed open the
door of his small house and entered.
1T is 1, Mamsier' he shouted, in
what he meant to be his usual voice;
but TO a sensitive ear-and what ear
a tremble in it that was not wholly nat
ural.
rs anything the matter. DEAR"
called out that mother, in reply.
The question made him start, though
he replied quickly enough, and in more
guarded tones:
mo, mamse. Go to sleep. I'm tired;
that's all"
Would to God that was all! He re-
called with envy the days when he
dragged himself into the house at sun
down, after twelve long hours of work
on the docks. AS he paused in the dark
hallway and listened till he heard the
breathing of her who had called him
dear-the only enc in all the world who
ever had or ever would call him dear
he had glimpses of that other self which
made him question if his elftutoring
on the violin, and the restless ambition
which had driven him out of the ways
of his ancestors into strange attempts
for which ne was not prepared by any
previous discipline, had brought him
happiness or improved his manhood.
He was forced to acknowledge that the
sleep Of those far distant nights of his
busy bOyhood was sWeeter than the
wakefulness of these later days. and
that it would have been better for him,
and infinitely better for her if he had
remained at the carpenters bench and
been satisfied with a repetition of his
fathers existence.
His mother was the only person shar-
ing that small house with him, and
once assured that she was asleep, he
lighted a lamp in the empty kitchen
and sat down. 1t was Just II o'clock.
This, to anyone accustomed to this pc
culiar young mans habits. had nothing
unusual in it. He was accustomed to
come home late and sit thus by himself
for a short time before going upstairs.
But. to one capable of reading His
sharp and none too mobile coun-
tenance, there was a difference in the
character of the brooding into which
he now sank, which, had that mother
been awake to watch him, would have
made every turn of his eye and move
ment of his hand interesting and i'm
pOrtant.
In the first place, the careless attitude
in which he had fallen was totally at
variance with the restless glance which
took in every object in that well known
room so associated with his mother and
her daily work that he could not i'm
agine her in any other surroundings.
and wondered sometimes if she would
seem any longer his mother if trans
planted to other scenes and engaged in
other tasks.
Little things, pretty objects of house
hcld use or ornament. which he had
seen all his life without specially MOTTO
ing them, seemed under the stress of
his resent mood. to acquire a sudden