Waterbury evening Democrat., 1908-09-19

cause he is too proud?"
 "Jessica. I've not forgiven him seven times. I've forgiven him seventy times seven. But he 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 we'll; let him stay away! He shan't come back when l am in my grave to play ducks and drakes with the money he misuses! And I've fixed 1t so that you won't be able to give 1t away either. Jessica."
 The girl, still kneeling, turned half about with a hopeless gesture. "Oh, won't you help me-" she said. She spoke more to herself, it seemed, than to either of the men who waited.
 "Sanderson," said the old man with bitter ferceness, lifting his hand. T dare say you think am hard, but I tell you there has never been day since Hugh was born when I wouldn't have laid down my life for him! You are so like! When look at you I seem to see him as he might have been but for his own wayward choice! If he were only as like you in other things as he is in feature! You are nearly the same age. You went to the same col lege, believe. You have had the same advantages and the same temptations. Yet you, an orphan, come out divini- ty student, and Hugh-my sonLcomes out roisterer with gambling debts. member of the fast set one of disso- lute fraternity known as The Saints,' whose very existence, no doubt, was shame to the institution"
 Harry Sanderson turned slowly to the light. A strange panorama in that moment had flashed through his brain -kaleidoscopic pictures of an early reckless era when he had not been known as the "Rev. Henry Sanderson."
 T think ought to say that I was the founder, and at the time you speak of, the abbot of The Saints. was in the same year with Hugh. We sowed our wild oats together. tidy crop. fancy, for us both. That page of my life is pasted down. I speak of 1t now be- cause it would be cowardly not to. I have not seen Hugh since college closed four years ago. But then was all you called him-a waster and prodigal. And was more, for while others followed, led. At college I was known as Satan Sanderson.'
 Tt is the Hugh of the present that I am dealing with" said the old man. For David Stires was just and he was feeling grim respect for Harry's honesty.
 Harry acknowledged the brusque kindliness of the tone with little mo- tion of the hand. AS he spoke he had been feeling his way through maze of contradictory impulses. For moment he had been back in that old irrespon- sible time; the Hugh he had known then had sprung to his minds eye, an initiative idler, with a certain grace and brilliancy of manner that made him hail-fellow-well-met but withal shallow, foppish and incorrigible. a cheap and shabby imitator of the out ward manner, not the inner graces, of good fellowship. Yet Hugh had been one of his own fast set" They had called him "Satan's shadow" a tribute to the actual resemblance as well as to the palpable imitation he affected. Harry shivered little. The situation seemed, In antic irony. to be revers- ing itself. It was as if not alone Hugh, but be. Harry Sanderson, in the person of that past of his, was now brought to bar for judgment in that room. For the instant he forgot how utterly characterless Hugh had shown himself of old, how devoid of all de sire for rehabilitation his present rep utation in the town argued him. At that moment 1t seemed as If in saving Hugh from this condemnation, he was pleading for himself as he had been, for the further chance which he, but for circumstances, perhaps, had needed too.
 You" he said, have lived a life of just and balanced action. It is bred In the bone. You hate all loose con- duct, and rightly. You hate 1t most in Hugh for the simple reason that he is your son. The very relation makes it more impossible to countenance. He should be like you-of temperate and prudent habit. But did you and Ee start on equal terms? Your grand father was a Standish: your ancestry was undiluted Puritan. Did Hugh have all your fund of resistance? With me 1t was the turning of long lane. Hugh perhaps has not turned-yet" A breath of that past life had swept anew over Harry, the old shuddering recoil again had rushed upon him. It gave his voice curious energy as he ended: And I have seen how far a man may go and yet-come back!"
 There was a pause. The judge had an inspiration. He folded the parch- ment
 Perhaps 1t would be as we'll" he said in a matter of fact way, 'ff the signing be left open for the present"
 He rose as he spoke and laid the doc ument on the table.
 Fox . moment QaYd sstizeg eat i1