The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1904-11-03
J Bound by a Spell.

what is Silas Carston to you, that
you should come here upon such an err
rand? i refuse to make any communi-
cation to yoa- Let him come himself. if
he wishes to know anything. This is
my house, and will not endure Your
presence in it,
Suppose i insist upon remaining until
you answer my questionsT'
Il shall have you expelled by a con-
stable, and sworn over to keep the peace
towards me-"
1T would scarcely be agreeable to my
father. outcast as 1 am, to have his
! name branded in police court, even to
secure your safety"
He spoke in voice of cold irony; hut
the blood was singing in his ears, and
seething in his veins with passion.
what have the dead to DO with the
petty vanities Of earthly fame?" she
asked, sternly.
1.-The deadr' he whispered; the hot
blood changed to a stream Of ice, and
rushed back upon his heart, and he
stared at her, pale and aghast.
The dead" she reiterated, In the
same tone. She looked steadily in his
face, as though doubling the truth of
his astonishment. 1t was too terribly
real to be doubted even by her. But
it could not excite one touch Of pity in
her stony heart; for she added, In
voice Of bitter irony, "a terrible COM
mentary upon your life, Edward Mo-
rant. Your father has been dead three
months. and you do not know 1t.
He had sunk into a chair, and was
staring into vacancy, repeating the wcrd
"Deadr' over and over again. Sudden
~ he asked, in low. anxious tone,
did he ask for me? Did he wish to see
me before he died 2"
He had broken with all earthly ties
months before he died; his thoughts and
words were given to heaven alcne."
Eagerly the man waited for the cruel
answer; and when it came, he covered
his face with his hands and sobbed until
the tears dropped between MS fingers on
to the ground.
Still cold and pitiless as an iron statue,
the woman looked down upon him with
out a shadow of sympathy in her rigid
face. After a minutes pause, she said,
'It. i. useless to prolong this scene
You can now see that all ties are brok-
en- between us. / trust / shall never
look upon your face again. As for Silas
Carston. if he wishes to know anything,
| repeat, he must come to me himself.
take no interest in him. 1 simply desire
to do a duty which / have pledged
myself to perform"
why, then. was he sent TO such a
place as Tabernacle House" he. de-
manded. "Kept in ignorance of his par
| enfs-put to mental work? Do you know
into what keeping ryop consigned him?
This man-this Rev. Mr.. Porter as he
calls himself" he we4<--on=-.I remcnl-
Der as a yagabond-a companion Of
mine. You viii say he is a converted
sinner l tell you this man is the vifest
of hypocrites; trader upon cant, whom
tomorrow | will expose in the midst of
his congregation, and drive out of the
town. His daughter was once for two
years clairvoyant in travelling mes
merism show. What do you think now
of the. guardian of your precious
charger
Leave this house, and never darken
it with your presence again"
The weapons had pierced deep, and
her voice was faint and husky.
although you may never see me
again, you shall feel me-" he went on,
with momentary increasing passion.
Listen, woman, to the last words you
may ever hear me speak! / have never
| injured. nor sought to injure you From
| the moment you first saw me, you h1yed
me because i would not cant and whine;
and because l passed few boyish jests
upon your doctrines, you vowed my de-
struction; you turned my fathers heart
| against me, and had me expelled from
my home, turned adrift upon the world
That act fell back upon yourself in a
| terrible retribution; but while its conse-
quences glanced off your steel heart and
| left no lasting wound, they handed me
over body and soul to Satan himself,
When, homeless and starving, l have
written to my father for money to tuy
bread, the letters were returned unopened
not by his hands. but by yours; and
even on his deathbed you embittered his
heart with enmity against his only child
For the sake of one dear memory, have
borne all this. But there is a limit to
all human endurance. and that limit is
passed with me. 1t seems you have
one being still in whom you take some
interest-that you have one vulnerable
point. and through that I'll strike you!
| There Is no revenge, however fendish.
that 1 will pause at. 1 will never cross
your threshold again, but my shadow
shall be upon you to the last hour OF
your Hfer'
As he spoke. he drew close to her,
| foaning with passion, and wildly gesticu-
| lating, as though he would strike her.
But not one step did she move, but
looked him full and fearlessly in the face,
though her own grew a shade paler The
solemn servant, attracted by the noise,
stood terror-stricken in the doorway. AS
| he spoke the last words, he pushed her
aside, and rushed out of the house, with
Madame Berne's voice ringing In his
ears, Beware what you do, lest the ven
geance fall upon your own headv'
Left alone, her nerve gave way. and
she sank back trembling. and almost
fainting, upon the sofa.
| An hour afterwards, she was on her
way to Gray's Inn. When she arrived,
the Office was closed Early on Monday
morning she sought it again. But the
| time lost was fatal.
| CHAPTER Xxx.
| On Sunday, the Rev. Mr.. Porter had
| just sat down to his early dinner, when
the sour, puritanical looking servant who
had succeeded Martha came into the din
| ing room to announce that a gentlem an
wished to see him. Thinking that this
/ ri .< >>~Io 20 H. 81 ksso-