Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-10-06
CHAPTER XIV.
THE HIGHER LAW.

The LA ~
Mcleod knew from the day OF tnaI
outburst which followed Gaston's speech
in the Democratic convention that no
power on earth could save his ticket TO
the world he put on a bold face and made
his fight to the last ditch, predicting
victory.
His secret anger against the preacher
and CASTOR, his pet. knew no bounds
Chagrined at his repulse by Mrs. Dur
ham and the attitude Of contempt she
had maintained toward him, his tongue
began to wag her name in slander 10
the crowd of young satellites loannS
around his office in Hambright.
"Yes, boys" he said, the preacher Is
a great man, but his wife is greater.
She's the handsomest woman IN the STATE
In spite of a gray thread or two in her
rich chestnut hair. She has the most
beautiful mouth that ever tempted the
soul of a man-and boys, my lips know
what Il means to touch it,.
And when they stared with open eyes
at this statement, Mcleod shook his head,
laughed and whispered
Say nothing about, it-but facts are
factsr'
Mcleod chucklede over the certainty
of the shame and suffering that would
wiring the preachers heart when dirty
gossips of a village had magnified these
words into a complete drama OF scandal
For all preachers Mcleod had profound
contempt and he felt secure now from
personal harm. a.f
The day the preacher first heard OF these
runors was the occasion of Gaston's cam
paien address under the old oak in the
square He had looked forward to this
day with boyish pride mingled with q
great fatherly love- 1t would be his tri-
umph He had stirred this boys imagina-
ton and moulded his character in the
~ = obi
told himself that day he spent with him
in the woods fishing, that he had kindled
a fire in his soul that would not go out
till 1t blazed on the altar Of redeemed
country And he was living to see that
day.
The streets and square were thronged
with such a multitude as the village had
never seen since ii was built. But the
preacher was not among them at the hour
the speaking began.
A simple old friend from the country
asked him about these rur1ors. He turned
pale as death, made no answer, and walk
ed rapidly toward his study in the church
where his library was now arranged he
was dazed with horror. 1t was the first
he had heard of It, One thing in his
estimate Of life had always been as Sc
curely fixed and sheltered in his thoughts
as his faith in God, and that was his
love for his wife, and his perfect faith
in her honor.
He closed his door and locked it mad
sat down trying to think.
Had he not grown careless in the GER
tainty of his wife's salvation. and his own
quiet but intense love? Had he not for
gotten the yearning of a woman's heart
for the eternal repetition of loves langu-
age of sign and word?
The tears were in his eyes now, and
he felt that his heart would beat to
death and break within him!
He saw that his enemy had struck at
his weakest spot, and struck to kill.
lie lifted his face toward the walls in
vague unsceing look and his eyes rested
on q pair of crossed swords over book
case. They had been handed down to
him from a long line of fighting ances-
tors He arose, took them down mechani-
cally, and drew one from its scabbard.
How snugly its rough hilt fitted his nerv-
Gus hand grip! He felt a curious throb-
| bing in this hilt like a pulse. 1t was
alive. and its spirit stirred deep waters
in his soul that had never been ruffied
| before.
He recalled vaguely in memory things
he knew had never happened to him and
yet were part of his Utmost life.
"Demn himi" he involuntarily Kissed as
he gripped the sword hilt with the in
stinctive power Of the fighting animal
that sleeps beneath the skin of all our
culture and religion.
Ard then his eyes rested on a quaint
! little daguerreotype picture of his wife
in her bridal dress, her sweet gi-lish face
| full of Innocent pride and warm with
J his love. BY its side he saw the portrait
| of their dead boy. How he recalled now
every hour of that wonderful preiod pre-
ccdsng his birth-the unspeakable pride
and tenderness with which he watched
over his young wife. He recalled the
morning of his birth and the heart rend-
ing, piteous cries of young motherhood
that tore his heart until The nails of his
own fingers cut the flesh and drew the
blood How the minutes seemed Ions
hours. and how at last he bent over her.
softly kissed the drawn white lips. and
| gazed with fearful wonder and awe on
the little red bundle resting on her breast!
He recalled the tremor Of WEAKNESS in
her voice when she drew his head down
close and whispered:
Il didn't mind the pain, John, though
l couldn't help the cries Hes yours and
rsine-I am tired-I must sleep"
Every movement of his past life seemed
to stand out in this crisis with fiery clear
ness. He seemed to live in an instant
: whole years in every detail of that close
~7~s Of personal life that makes marriage