The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-02-23
CHAPTER XLVI. The Wisdom of inc Wise

though he was in the finest train- ing and the loaned machine suited him to marvel, he gradually went slower and slower till he could almost have walked as fast. Yidas easy dismissal of his offer the completeness of Phil Calmont's vic tory had robbed himself of his sef-con- fidence.
 That had always been his stronghold- his sequence, his four aces, his .Austrain Army Awfully Arrayed.' as Janet had eN- plained to him more than once. He re- membered the last expression. He thought Il sounded like Shakespeare. Vie Morris had never failed in anything before. or course, they had fired" him from the Incubus pits-but then anybody who does his work too well to please other people. must expect that. So VicA did not mind being simply fired" His pride was not hurt by what man could do to him. But women-girls-they were another matter. He had, as he said,. slipped up with Vida. She had been laughing in her sleeve at .him-him-Vic Morris, who up till now had always. had his own way-or taken it. How had he? Why. by crashing through all peevish oppositions with his head down. like bull charging a hazel coppice whose parted shoots smart his Hanks.
 But suddenly, from Vida's attitude, he conceived q dread of what was before
  less did he desire to enter without prepa- ration into the persence of Janet of the Eyes of Live Sapphire. He called to mind Ter letters. One by one he conned them. He remembered whole passages. Yes sitting in the Hotel Colon, or up on the brown sides of the Sierra, they had seemed pretty conclusive. But now there was the shock of Vida-of Phil-once his assistant, the lad to whom he had taught the very A, B, c of his work, whom even yet he could hardly trust (so in his bit terness he told himSelf ito chop kindlins wood without cutting himself" Yet Phil Calmont had been preferred before him: It was unbelievable. Phil had held Vida in his arms. He, the rejected-Ludoyic Morris, c. E.-had heard her laugh even as she pushed Phil away-the laugh that only one man hears from woman-the laugh that Vie Morris had never yet heard in his life. And he bummed '"rhe Voice That Breathed Der Eden," which did not make things easier at all.
 Then something that his friend MT. Iron- gray had said to him after he had been fired" by those Incubus people swan up from the 'under-deeps of consciousness. '@rhe last shall be firstv
 Vic had snorted at the time, refused to receive 1t as philosophy, and had even called it "preachiness'' to his startled friend the Cameronian minister. Well, he
 
 His thoughts turned towards the Kirk on the Hill He would go up there, get some lunch at the manse, and then in tha afternoon, when all would be quiet at the Powders, he would-yes, he would go and have it out with Janet. But, oh-in what a different spirit-in what chastened mood-not Vic Morris but another. Of course, he would tell hera all'
 He climbed up the little. incline, the wagon ruts that led from the Incubus mines dying away as the road forked and reforked, till only the wheelbarrow with which the minister himself or his beadle cultivated the manse garden, could be seen mounting the slope as single track.
 Yes, the Reverend Benjamin was at home. A little thinner, a little paler. a little more compressed about the lips thus Vic Morris found MT. Irongray. Otherwise there was no difference in the manse, save that silent housekeeper of mature years had taken the place of the voluble mother, who had run her sons head against so many stone walls during her ten years conduct of the affairs of the Kirk on the Hill.
 ''Morrisl We'll Morris!'
 And handgrip said the rest Both were strong men, and the water that stood in their eyes may have been due as much to the muscular power developed as to affection. Perhaps there was little of both.
 What brings you here, Morris?"
 This, however, was easier asked than answered.
 Vic had dwelt long enough in Scotland to know how to gain time by asking for MT. Irongrays mother, for his mother-in- law-his sister-his nephews-his nieces-- his relatives unto many generations. For a Scot may grow impatient at your ask ing questions as to his own health, but never when these concern the healths and appetites of his kindred, however remote.
 But what. brings you here?' repeated Mr. Irongray, when all these points had been finally cleared up and disposed of.
 First. for something to eatv' Still Vic put off the evil day. But he himself saw that it could not be for long. The silent, elderly woman of forbidding aspect was already setting the table. The cloth was laid In five minutes they would be left alone
 Vic resolved to open all his heart. He could not have decided better.
 After he had spoken, MT. lrongray laid down his knife and fork.
 do when you do sec Janet Fowler will be to tell her all about your recent interview with Miss Vida-ah-Romer?"
 ..Of course" said Vic promptly, 'I should not be an honest man unless did so
 "Hum,' said the munster, cuttiIlB HlIll- self a frugal slice of cheese to eat with his sisters Ayrshire butter for dessert q thought that would be your way of looking at things. Well, as a church, we do not believe in compulsory auricular confession-least of all to a woman. A man has a little bag in which he drops things he wants to forget. He forgets them-because he wills it.'' And here the voice of the bachelor min ister of the Kirk on the Hill took on q more solemn tone, changing almost as suddenly as if some one had pulled a lever.
 And because of this with reverence be it spoken, there is something Godlike in the worst man. He can forget. And he quoted catena of texts.
 "Who is God like unto thee, who par donest inquity. He retaineth not his anger forever. And thou shalt cast all thy sins into the depths of the sea- Vie was silent, not yet seeing whether he was being led. The minister was at once so simple and so subtle
 Humanity hath sought out many de- vices, but a Womangod, as god of gods hath it not found-and for this reason Human or divine. woman cannot forget and therefore cannot truly forgive. There is always a barrier. Therefore, once again, speak not of the matter of Vida Romer, who was called Bryan, to Janet Fowlerl That were indeed great folly"
 Tt seems like the breaking of q butter fly on a wheel of great texts, said Vic; 'so many have reasons for so light a thing!"
 Nothing is light or heavy before the