The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1907-05-22


That was undoubted. One day in a
| squall near the Heads he handled the
boat with magnificent GOODNESS and
skill when Tom thought they must
/ both have gone to the sharks When
I they landed safe and sound, he infiict-
| ed so many OF his poems upon Tom.
| whom the salt breezes had overcome
| with drowsiness, that the pantry and
the knives to clean seemed preferable
to such nightly ordeaIs. Tom asked TO
be put into livery and TO work at once
He insisted upon it and gained his
point through the accidental touch of
livery"
They drove into Sydney next day
with specimens of the family crest,
which Tom was 10 bear on every but
ton. Daintree being a magistrate, a
cockade was duly included in the or
der. and for time the master was in
high feather at the prospective dis
play. But it recalled family troubles
ere long, and all the way home he
talked dismaIly of himself as an exile
like Byron-my literary second self"
Somebody had once called him own
brother to Byron" He never tired of
quoting the phrase. He was destitute
of humor and made Tom blush for
him where he would have shaken with
laughter at another.
His contrariety was unique. Not
only was he a good magistrate spoilt
through neglecting the bench for his
desk, but an old athlete who Dragged
about the poetry he could not write
instead of about the races he had real
ly won. On the top of his bookshelf
stood the row of furnished silver cups,
and his proud eye climbed no higher
than the volume or two of mediocre
verse underneath. lie made little
enough OF his genuine triumphs, his
real abilities, but he would talk with
bated breath of few stanzas which
often rhymed as false as they rang.
Once Tom cleaned the cups when Dam
tree was out, and he few into some
thing very like rage when he came
in and saw them He was the most
unaceountabie of men.
''Still he is the kindest" was Toms
reflection on the top of that conclusion,
and the same night he not only made
another of his poor attempts at thank
ing Daintree for all that he was doing
and had done; he at last put the ques-
ton which seemed to mark a stride
in his slow and uphill return from
brute to man. And yet even now it
was no very sincere curiosity, but
rather an uncomfortable feeling that
he ought to seem curious, which
prompted him to say:
81 can't understand your kindness to
me. Why did you begin it? Why do
you go on? | wonder what made you \
take an interest in me at the startp'
Wonder was the word. for wonder
he did, but keenly inquisitive he was
not and the stride was shorter than
it had looked
II believed in your innocence" re-
piled Daintree with -deliberation; that |
was ALL
II can't think why. You were the |
only one. Yet you knew nothing about |
me, it seems" And still his tone was |
that Of purely impersonal speculation.
Daintree took the cheroot from be- |
tween his teeth
81 knew something about Blaydes,'
said he.
"Ahr'
mot much; very little, in fact, but /
that little was pretty bad. / knew
what an internal blackguard he was.
and 1 felt sure there must be more
ruined men than one upon his track.
You remember that point in the de-
fense?'
Tom jumped up. Don't remind me
of it, he cried THE very barrister
in me. And it doesn't in
terest me now; it only hurts. Don't
speak of it, if you please"
"Oh, very we'll" said Daintree,
'only that point was suggested by
me-"
YOU" exclaimed Tenn in an altered
voice. All but what don't / owe to
you? More than | can ever realize or
believe: everything = everything - and
yet l refuse to speak of it TO you of
all men, You see how ungrateful |
am; you see what they've made of me
among them. oh. sir, forgive me, have
patience with me. and | may be CRATE
Jul yet, Give me time, and 1 shall
hank you as l cannot now"
You shall not" rejoined Daintree ]
firmly. You Were quite right, and
we'll speak of all this no more. Good :
leavensi" he cried out. How do you
know my motives We're so pure? What ]
t it was mere whim-and not alto
sether my own: At all events, / take
40 credit for il. and never you thank
ne again. do you hear? You'll offend
ne if you do. You viii indeed
He spoke earnestly. nervously and
without trace of affectation or ego
ism. Nor did Tom remember a single
oible as he looked in the handsome,
lark. inscrutable face and took his
'euefaetor by both hands.
God bless your he whispered. do \
-ou know what l used 10 call you in | /
ny heart when 1 had one? Ny Noble I
Unknown, Well, you are nobler even i
han l thought. Do you know what V
ou are doing: You're giving me my III
:eart back little by little. | shall be j
rateful yet.'' Z
He went TO the door. but would stand c
here gazing at his friend. So long he b
TODD, with burning eyes that seemed c
o ache for tears. but at length he was
one, and Daintree sat alone with a
old cheroot between his fingers II