Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1909-01-19
Hidden
Perils
BY MARY CECIL HAY
CHAPTER ky

by Brent of his masters having been out
all .he afternoon.
Since he came in he has been writing
in his own room. sir the man added.
anxiously. and has taken nothing. |
carried up tray, but he didn't seem in
clined 10 be disturbed"
DIR. We're had no hesitation about dis
turning him. He went at once 10 Rourke's
room, and blamed him hctly for his care
less disregard of orders.
Rourke, may l bring Lorraine TO see
you?'
NO. no." Rourke answered, with a
strong shuddering of his whole frame
do not even talk of her tonight. Talk
of Una, Or Have you been to church
to-day, Athol?'
"Yes, | went in on my return. Even if
have only a few minutes, l like to go
in when ! can
YES, l thought so,' Rourke answered,
very low. Tell me what Mr.. Spencer
told you"
'IIe told me much" said Athol, speak
ing very gently and anxiously, preach
ing from those few words in st. john
Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh
away the sin of the world
What is it," questioned Rourke, turn
ing his eyes fully tc his friends face
and asking the question simply as if he
could not grasp The meaning of the words
Atho repeated them reyerently, while
Rourke, leaning forward in his seat,
listened with drawn breath. Then he
spoke with an impotence which was full
of pain.
"Oh. Atholl'' he cried, ''if 1 could have
that one night again-just that one
night If it were not for the sin of that
one night, l could believe those words
those good words
They are true; why doubt them in
any case, Rourke?" said Athol, anxiousiy
"They are all the more precious to us
because of our sins. 1t is not certain sins
He taketh away, you know; it is all sin"
"Athol, / want to finish my letters,
and you ought to go to Lorraine. Don't
look astonished Mr.. Galveston has told
me of your engagement. ! knew why you
did not wish to do so until-until l was
all right again. | ought to have had
the courage to speak of it before, but
could not. l don't know that | can
even now Athol, dear old fellow, don't
be hurt because l cannot say what
ought to say. | ought to wish you happi-
ness, but what need? ] ought to say |
am glad. but / have not been glad-I am
not glad now, | fear-but | shall be. L
seem now rs if | had always known it
would be so. and yet-and yet the truth
came as a thunderelap-a shock that left
me, for a few moments. deaf and blind
hear the same words now, if l chance
to fall asleep, and | feel it all over again.
/ have so loved her. And my little
Rourke-my boy-you will remember
my life-my broken, wasted life-and it
will help you. But what am | saying?
What fear is there for any child taught
by you and Lorraine -you-and-I4or
raine?"
II cannot even go to her tonight" said
Athol, not trusting himself to look upon
the suffering WEAKNESS of Rourke's face !;
81 would rather stay here"
''No; please CO." pleaded Trenham,
with real anxiety. 81 must sit with you
and talk to you if you are here, and
want TO write a little longer. | am al
most well now. Athol, and shall sleep to-
night. You will come back in the morn
ing. / shall be looking for you as soon
as the day dawns. Thank you for your
lifelong kindness-and help-and friend
ship. Goodnight, dear fellow"
ANY message for Mr.. Galveston or
Lorraine" inquired Athol, not trusting
himself to say more, as he saw, with in
finite pain. how Rourke struggled to make
light of his acute suffering.
No none" returned Rourke. steadily
mo message to Lorraine-yet She ,old
me all she wished to say. and | remem-
Der. Why should l hurt her ever again?
Goodnight, Athol.'
In the morning Athol again went to
Rourke's home.
The master had gone to his own room
soon after midnight, Brent said. as he
noiselessly led DR.. We're into the silent
house. He had been writing or sitting
before the fire until then. He, Brent. had
gone in again and again TO persuade him
to go TO bed, but he had only said there
was plenty of time, and just chatted bit
kindly. Brent had been up all night. and
expecting DIR. We're.
Softly the Young physician entered
Rourke's bedroom. Though the morning
sun shone fair and bright without. he
had expected the room to be in darkness
so, for a moment the light dazzled him.
and made him pause
"Rourke." be whispered softly: and as
he spoke he laid his gentle hand upon the
tossed hair. II am come back"
No answer; and Athol bent little
lower. Man as he was. he could not helm
but touch with his ownkhe lips that were
Quivering and parted under the brown
muStache.
Dear fellow, do YOU remember? He
taketh away the sins of the world'?"
The whisper reached the tired brain.
5he weak lips moved with a faint and
wondering smile.
~ remember-Athol-my sins too.
have remembered"
The warm plying sunshine lay upon
Rourke's face. so still and calm at last.
Out afar. in the fathomless blue. the beau
tiful dying eyes were fixed All suffering
was over now; the look of keen and rest
less agony was gone. Even Athol had
not felt ii could be so soon as this that
the sharp pain would cease, and the wait
ing time would come. Even he had not
guessed how quickly sorrow, remorse and
WEAKNESS could bring the end. Kneelng
beside this friend he loved so dearly, he
whispered words of hope and prayer and
comfort, while Gods sunshine streamed
In upon the watcher and the watched.
And thus at last the end came, and Athol
raised his nand and softly closed the dark
blue eyes.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The faded hatchment above the chief
entrance at Hohve--as old as the great
cannon below it-proclaimed 10 all whom
It might, or might not, concern, that the
head of the house was dead. and that the
usual formula of post mortem horrors
were to be paid him now.
Arhol. in his mourning dress, deep as
If he mourned q brother. tilted his hat