The Washington herald., 1908-06-02
CHAPTER XVIII.

1t is. on the whole, a merciful provision
OF nature that custom stales;" for II it
limits our joys, II equally minimizes our
griefs. a cannon. fired near our beds.
makes US jump out Of them. hair on end
with CONSERVATION: but after a few morn
ings It does not even waken US. Yes, we
should really be thankful that our nerves
can get tired Fabian Dare was very
thankful
That first morning. when he awoke at
oxford after a night Of dreams, and saw
something in his face which made him
smash the mirror seemed so unbearable
that he only did not kill himself because
he thought ne was going to die. There
were moments when he believed himself
dead, and that the soul he had bartered
was In some torture chamber. already
tasting the second death. He had read OF
nothing in all Dante's Inferno which COM
pared with the poignant anguish OF that
day
lie could not help connecting his terrible
experiences with Abdul Won Tarsenheim.
though he was utterly in the dark as to
what that somber being had done TO him.
He read every work he could get hold OF
which bore on the subject OF possession
by devils; there were many references TO
II in the Bible itself. He read medieval
works. by monkish authors. about men
who had made bargains with powers of
darkness. and IN them saw a ray of light,
for even in such cases the church had
sometimes INTERVIEWED to cheat the devil of
his due.
When he felt he could bear life no
more. and must kill himself he was con-
fronted by such awful possibilities that he
knew he would rather face any life than
pass through the gates Of terror. But at
last his tortured, tired nerves refused to
carry any more messages, and he fell
asleep. He had not dared to write in his
diary that day. He knew he would have
written words which. II read, would send
him to an insane asylum, II, indeed, they
did not whirl him away in brain-storm
which would never end
Abdul Won Tarsenheim's devilish cum
ming had made no mistake in selecting his
man. OF all the broken men he had
watched, IN their places Of assembly, IN
Fabian Dare alone he had seen the look
OF race. the sporting blood which Will
fight a losing fight the finely tempered
bit Of steel which can be bent double and
spring back. With c0mmoner clay 70
work on the operation would have failed.
Ard II was 10 a tremendous fight that
Fabian nerved himself. Temptations such
as no man had known before assailed
h!.n; and, what was worse. the delusion
that he had yielded TO them was often on
the point Of conquering. so accusingly
would his conscience call to him. There
was one temptation he knew he would
never resist. When he met the man IN
the motor mask he would kill him. He
would torture him. and extract the secret
OF the operation, then he would KIN him.
Won Tarsenhelm he regarded as a devil.
who could no. be killed. Every day he
began his diary with the words, II must
not grow morbid or I shall lose the fight"
The feeling that his personality did not
fit him irritated him. as clothes they dis
like irritate children. He worked hard
for his divinity examinations; he had
much lost time TO make up. His sense Of
humor. which went far 10 save him IN
those days, was often touched by the lee
lures he heard on the nature Of sin, and
he used 20 wonder what the harmless old
lecturers. who had spent their sheltered
lives in clustered security. would say II
they could look into his mind and see the
visions Of sin which were recorded there
the echoes Of the life OF Vandraken. the
young girls offered up by that high priest
ess. the Cobra. on the affairs Of his care
fully encouraged depravity.
But he kept his knowledge 10 himself.
and was duly ordained a clergyman.
Something in his face had caused the
bishop 10 look at him curiously and ask
him ~ he was sure ne had a vocation. II
he felt strong enough. And he had asked
the bishop whether 10 have resisted such
temptations as had assailed no man be-
fore did not make him more 1T than the
untried, interrupted youths who had gone
UP. with him. And the bishop looked at
the intellectual. but, 70 his eyes. dissi-
pated face. and thought TO himself. THAT
young man will be either a disgrace 70
the church or great preacher"
The DOnoyle chaplaincy had beer found
ed by an ancestor Of the family two hun
bred years before, and the maintenance
Of a chaplain 20 conduct services in the
chapel Of the castle was an act OF COM
pulsory virtue entailed by the ownership
Of the estates. The post appealed 10 Fa-
bian because IL was in Ireland. IN the
country and offered the only means OF
escape from being a curate. Also. It was
not far away from a town where there
was a large church. in which he would
occasionally he allowed to preach.
Fabians Irish blood reveled In the Irish
atmosphere for the first time. The seen
cry awoke mis- poets soul to rapture, and
helped his tortured nerves to bear their
burden.
Looking out Of the window of his study.
In the little house in the park. he gazed on
a range Of violet-hued mountains, from
whose lap fell a wooded glen, a river OF
foliage winding down, mile after mile, to
the river itself. disclosing In its last bend
a mountain torrent overcoming the last
obstacles OF moss-grown rocks in an eff
fort TO reach the great stream which
would bear II 10 the sea.
What is this atmospheric" he confd-
ed 10 his diary, which seems sacred to
the south of Ireland? 1t is not mist OF
fog. nor haze of heat, but some strange
breath or mystery, which softens and
ideallzes ali Il touches. Perhaps Il is the
breath OF the fairies, whose presence the
dear. delightful peasants seem TO feel al
about them. Has the landscape been
dipped in an ocean OF melted opals? For
mountains fields and woods, all seem 10
be dripping with dew of liquid gems. II
Is my true environment and In It shall
win-I shall win.'