The champion. (Arcadia, Fla.) 1895-1911, 1908-10-08

He recognized few presidents eith'
in the new methods and millinery vii
which he had invested the service {
In hts personal habits. Instead Of n
tending the meeting Of st. Andrew
guild, after the constant custom {
HIS predecessor, he was apt to be foun
playing his violin "a passion wit
him) in the smart study that adjoine
the gothic chapel where he shepherds
his fashionable flock or trampipg acros
the country with brier pipe in hl
mouth and his brown spaniel, Rumm!
nosing at his heels. His athletic fran
and clean chiseled features made bin
a rare figure for the reading desk, as
his violin practice. the cut of his goli
fiannels, the i'm immaculate elegance OF
his motor car, even the white carna-
ton he affected In his buttonhole,
made him for the younger men good
ly pattern of the cloth, and II had
speedily grown to be the fashion to
hear the brilliant young minister.
Something Of all this was In the law
yer's mind as he paused-a perfunctory
pause-before he continued:
81 do give and bequeath the sum Of
$1,000 and the memory Of his misspent
youth.
Harry Sanderson's eyes had wan.
dered from the chair to the slim fig.
ure Of the girl who sat by the screen
This was Jessica Holme, the orphaned
daughter of friend Of the old mans
early years, who had recently come to
the house In the aspens to ill the void
left by Hugh's departure. Harry could
see the contour OF throat and wrists,
the wild rose mesh of the skin against
the Romney blue gown. the plenteous
red bronze hair uncoiled and falling in
a single braid and the shadowy pathos
Of her eyes. Clear hazel eyes they
were, wide and full, but there was In
them no depth of expression, for Jes.
sica Holme was blind. AS the crisp,
deliberate accent pointed the judicial
period as with subterranean echo Of
lrrefutable condemnation Harry saw
her under lip indrawn, her hands clasp
tightly, then unclasp in her lap Plant.
gra ceful hands, he thought, which even
blindness could not make maladroit
go on" rasped the old man.
''rhe residue Of my estate. real and
personal, do give and bequeath to
my ward, Jessica Holme''-
He broke OFF suddenly, for the girl
was kneeling by the chair cropping for
the restless hand that wandered on the
afghan and crying In a strained, agi-
tated voice; "No-no-you must notl
He is your sonr'
"In the eyes of the law, yes. But
not otherwisev His voice rose. what
has he done to deserve anything from
me? What has he bad all his life but
kindness? And how hao he repaid r.?
By being waster and q prodigaI. By
setting me in contempt and finally by
forsaking me In my old age for his
own paths of rlbaldry."
The girl shook her head. "You don't
know where he Is now or what he is
doing. Oh, he was wild aud reckless. I
have no doubt, but when he quarreled
and left you wasn't II perhaps because
he was too quick temperedi And II he
hasn't come back isn't 1t perhaps be
cause he Is too proud ~ =
"Jessica, I've not forgiven him seven
times. I've forgiven him seventy times
seven. But ne doesn't want forgive
ness. To him am only the old man
who refused to put up longer for his
fopperies and extravagances. When he
left this house six months ago he de.
clared he would never enter 1t again.
Very well; let him stay away! He
shan't come back when / am In nv
grave to play ducks and brakes with
the money he misuses! And I've fixed
It SO that you won't be able to give II
away either, Jessica.p
The girl, still kneeling, turned half
about with hopeless gesture. "Oh
won't you help mer she said. She
spoke more to herself, It seemed. than
to either Of the men who waited.
."Sanderson,p said the old man with
bitter nerceness. lifting his hand, Il
dare say you think am hard, but I
tell you there has never been day
since Hugh was born when l wouldn't
have laid down my life for him! You
are so like! When I look at you seem
to see him as he might have been but
for his own Wayward choicet II ba