The professional world. (Columbia, Mo.) 1901-192?, 1903-08-21

haps, might have conquered 1t, but
for the element of fear which was then
introduced. The question of his soul
was brought forward, and he swore
that l would send 1t to heaven or to
hell. In the light of what l I have read,
and in the recollection of what l have
often heard father say in his argu-
ments with preachers, perhaps l
should have been strong enough to
scout the idea If literal torment, but
I could not. You remember old Aunt
Betsy Taylor, Jim's black nanny.
When l was very young she was still
living on the place, and was to me a
curiosity, the last of her race, l was
told. l did not know what this meant
but it gave her words great weight.
Once she pictured hell to me, the roar
ing furnace. the writhing of the dam
med, and no reason and no reading has
ever served to clear my mind of her
awful painting. With her as the advo-
cate, l could hear the groans of lost
souls; and in my childish way l be-
lieved that the old woman was in.
spired to spread the terrors of perdi'
ton; nor has education and the little
I have seen of society, wholly changed
this belief. So when Mr.. Pennington
swore to me that If l refused to marry
him he would die disappearing the
name of God, my judgement tottered
and fell. l sit here now, looking at the
bed wherein he died. You saw him
breathe his last, saw his smile of peace
and hope. That smile was my reward
For 1t | had wrung the heart of my
father and wiped my feet upon his
pride. But | had sent a soul above. !
have set myself to the task Of perfect
frankness, and l must tell you that In
my heart there was not the semblence
of love for him, love al you know it;
there was only pity and l can say that
pity is not akin to love. Yes, | sold
myself, not as many a woman has, not
as l would have been praised and flat
tered for doing-not for money, but to
save a soul. This written at night
with a still clock above me, the hands
recording the hour and the minute of
his death, and the light of the sun may
fade my words and make them ghast.
ly, but am revealing, to my mother,
my inner self"
Mrs. Cranceford paused to wipe her
eyes, and the Major, who had been
walking up and down the room, now
stood looking through the window at
the sweep of yellow river, far away.
But does she say when she is COM
ing homer" he asked without turning
his head. Read on, please"
The sheets were disarranged and it
Read on, please" he repeated, and
he moved from the window and stood
with his hands resting on the back Of
a chair. Mrs. Cranceford read on:
There is one misfortune Of mine
that has always been apparent to you
and that is my painful sensitiveness.
1t was, however, not looked upon as a
misfortune, but rather as a fault which
at will l might correct, but l could no
| more have obviated it than | could
have changed my entire nature. When
father charged me with ingratitude
realized the justice of the rebuke (from
5 his point of view, while feeling on
my side the injustice of the imputa-
ton. for I was not ungrateful, but SIM
: ply in a desperate state of mind.
l am afraid that I am not making my.
Z self clear. But let me affirm that l do
! not lose sight of the debt I W him,
l the debt Of gallantry. I had always
admired him for his bravery, and hun
. dreds of times have l foollshly day
dreamed Of performing q life saving
office for him. But the and
Z pardon me for saying 1.-THE arrog'
ance which he assumed over me
Q wounded me, and the wound is still
4 slowly bleeding. But in time it will
heal, and when it does 1 will go to
him, but now l cannot"
"But she must come to me or lei
me go to her!" the
Major broke in. 81
confess that I didn't
NS& understand her. Why
CG I'll there is heroism in hel
@N composition. Go ahead
IL Margaret. She's got
ZnaNHSW- more sense than all o.
s4sehSG@ us. Go ahead"
Mrs. Cranceford con
tinued: Il can con
ceive OF nothing more
useless than nv life at home would be