The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1908-06-11

michael as he spoke-the piteous, en-
treating eyes. 1t was the look of soul
that cannot rest.
MY father would never consent"
Godfrey said. "As you put 1t so
| strongly, l would agree myself, but he
would not. Nobody is allowed to re
main in that room; very few people
have seen it Of late years"
Il would suggest that your fathers
permission should not be asked. If I
am mistaken. it would be a great pity
to have troubled him for nothing, to
have revived such painful memories.
If, on the other hand, / am right in
thinking that there Is something wait
ing to be revealed, it will be time
enough to tell him when | have heard
it. Whatever it may be, 1 promise"
laying stress on the word, that you,
at least, shall know what ii Is. Then
you can use your own judgment
whether you tell him."
And after some more discussion the
matter was settled in this way.
The old house was wrapped In 81
lence and darkness when Carmichael
went up the little staircase leading to
the Tower Room. Godfrey had given
him the key, and when he had opened
the door, he locked it again on himself.
He pushed open one OF the windows,
and soft wind blew In, bringing a
breath of life. 1t was a bright moon
light night, and Carmichael stood adj
miring the sweep of meadow and wood
with the MIST hills in the distance. 1t
was a beautiful view. What had the
girl thought of it whose favorite room
this had been? Had she grown a little
weary of it as the years passed? Car
michael wondered.
He sat down, facing the portrait on
the wall.
"What was it?" he murmured. uncon-
sciously speaking his thoughts aloud.
What went wrong? You would expect
so much from life-too much you were
doomed to disappointment. For no.
body, not even for you, can it be roses,
roses all the way Had the days be-
gun to drag? Did you feel like a bird
in a cage up here?"
The face looked back at him, holding
his eyes. 1t changed as he gazed, and
his breath came more quickly. The
hard eyes grew sad and entreating, the
whole face softened until Ii resembled
the woman Of his dreams.
Presently, without realizing what he
was doing. he took pencil and paper
from his pocket and began to write. He
wrote automatically, quickly, and
clearly like a machine, never pausing
for word. Until the pencil dropped
from his fingers TO the floor he did not
know what he had been doing. He
could not have told how he came to
write, or what he had written. Pass
ing his hand over his eyes, for he was
still little dazed, Carmichael picked
up the sheet of paper, and read the
message from the dead. 1t had 'got
through" as he had thought 1t might,
but in a way he had not anticipated.
he had, Of course, heard Of automatic
writing. but this was his first personal
experience Of it.
Forgive me-" ii ran. 81 cannot rest
until you do. had hardly gone before
repented. | would have come back,
but he never left me for moment.
oh forgive me. 1t was you loved all
the time, but 1 grew tired OF our quiet
life. / wanted change and excitement.
and he knew how to work on my weak
ness. God was merciful. and sent
death to save me. i died thinking of
you"
That was all, but life's history can
be told in a few words. Carmichael
understood, as though he had heard the
whole story. The brilliant butterfl
creature, neither strong nor WISE but
meaning no evil. The temptation, The
sudden impulse, repented of almost as
soon as conceived. The swift retribu-
ton, which gave no time for explana-
ton or pardon, which left only the bare
truth In its hideousness. Mr.. Dallas
had kept his terrible secret all these
years. kept 1t from everybody, even his
own son.
The next morning he sought an in
terview with Mr.. Dallas in the library.
He looked at the stern, proud old face,
miserable under all its pride; at the
restless, seeking eyes, and he was
thankful that at last the question they
asked could be answered in way to
make for peace. AS briefly as possible
he explained how he came into posses
sion of the paper he held, and then he
put in down on the table and turned
away.
AS Carmichael stood looking out Of
the window, he heard a broken voice
sobbing, Thank God Thank God!"
He saw the white head bowed on the
hands above that message from the
dead, and he went silently from the