The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1903-11-26

y
yonrs in turn. You-"
"Hold" said Mr.. Vernon, inter.
rupting him with peremptory firm.
ness. "Not another word on that
score. You owe me nothing"
"Well, then, you will not blame
me if I kill him?"
"Whst do You mean?"
81 speak Of Kirk MacCollough,
your son!'
No mere presentation OF the words
can suggest the dramatic import OF
this terse colloquy.
Mr.. Vernon turned quarter about
and seized Burns's other arm.
Behind them little fire hickered
in the fog; they could dimly see each
Others faces, grim and grizzled, as
they leaned closer aud tried to stare
into each others eyes.
Lately Mr.. Vernon had begun to
dread even the thought of this man,
who now seemed the one greatest
danger to his happiness; for it was
through him that the past seemed on
the point of being unlocked and re.
opened. Vasseur knew much; but
Vasseur was easy to manage. One
other knew all; but that one could
always be bought to silence with
money. Burns alone was unmanage-
able; because he alone was sincere
and incorruptible.
When for years man has been ab-
solute master of himself and over all
who have come within the circle OF
his life, it is hard for him to realize
suddenly that his influence is about
to fail. To Mr.. Vernon this threat
ened failure meant much more than
mere loss of power in the direction OF
any ordinary ambition. He had lived
so long aud 80 happily on the crust OF
o volcano, that, until Burns had come,
he had forgotten what FIRE lay under
it. Tho worst of 1t was that man
like MIR. Vernon could but feel help
less and hopeless when dealing with
one like Burns.
AS they stood thus for a moment at
arms length, with their faces thrust
almost together. the two men felt for
the first time clearly how much they
were in each others way. Burns was
aware now that Mr.. Vernon would
stand between him and his one re-
naming desire. He had conferred
with Vasseur, and from him had
snrewdly drawn enough to confirm
himself thoroughly in this thought.
Mr.. Vernon's grip on Burns's arms
drew them inward with such force
that the old mans chest was almost
folded together and his breathing be-
came difficult.
"You, O minister OF the gospel,
priest OF the God OF Heaven. come to
tell me that You are going to assassin.
ate" Mr.. Vernon stopped short
and drew in a deep, shivering breath
as If the words had almost choked
him. "Shall I turn you over to Jack.
SON to be dealt with?"
"Shall I turn you over to him?"
calmly responded Burns.
There was something desperately
reckless, beyond anything that Mr..
Vernon had ever dreamed OF, in the
suggested significance OF the words.
He iuvoluntarily loosed his hold and
let fall his hands as if just released
from a galvanic shock.
"True, true" he murmnred, in a
strangely changed voice; 81 am not
one to lead others to justice"
"You are better, far better than
most men, even with your sins all
counted" said Burns. 'I owe every
thing to you and yours"
"Everytbing?"
eyes. everything. But the evil
part is not"
eyes, yes, the evil and all is from
me-"
"I was hungry and you fed me I
was dying and you nursed me back
to life."
"And now I ask you for more than
life!" exclaimed Mr.. Vernon in q
hoarse whisper.
Il know, I know" faltered Burns.
"No, you do not You know
enough, but not all"
eyes, Thomas MacCollough--"
Mr.. Vernon few at his throat and
shut off mis- words.
"Spsak that name again, and"
He did not complete the sentence; he
was ashamed OF himself instantly.
"Forgive me; I am not myself" he
went on. letting so his hold. His voice
softened. "And you-you are all
wrong, Mr.. Burns, you are permit.
ting your passion to drag you along
with it; let me beg Of you to stop and
give your conscience its freedom once
more"
"I am sure" said Burns, with dry
emphasis, "that you have shown less
self-control than have I. I haven't
tried to choke you"
"Forgive me, I repeat 1t, forgive
!me" Mr.. Vernon supplicated.
"There is nothing to forgive; I
mentioned it only to remind you that
it is not so easy to hold oneself in"