Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1912-12-27
CHAPTER Ix.-(contInued.)

Ten years ago." abstractedly
What lot of things may happen II
ten years! Deaths, births, marriages,
he went on; "the snuffing out Of king
doms and republics; wars. panics
famine; honor to some and dishonoi
to others. 1t hind of makes fellow
grind his teeth, little girl; it kind OF
makes him shut his fists and long to
run amuck."
why should q strong, intelligent
man, such as you are, think like that
You are resourceful and unafraid
Why should you talk like that? You
are young, too. WhyT
He stopped and looked full into her
eyes. DO you really wish to know"
Had l better?" with a wisdom be-
yond her years.
mo, you had better not. I'M not a
good man, Fortune, as criterions go.
I've slipped here and there; I've gam
bled and drunk and squandered my
time. Why, In my youth l was as
model boy as ever was Percival.
Where the divarication took place
can't say. There's always two forks
In the road, Fortune, and many of US
take the wrong one. It's easier going.
Fine excuse; Ell? Some persons would
call me a scoundrel, a black-leg; in
some ways, yes. But in the days to
come want you always to remember
the two untarnished spots upon my
shield Of honor: l have never cheat
ed a man at cards nor run away with
his wife. The devil must give me
these merits, however painful it may
be to him. Ten years ago, only a
decade; good Lord! it's like a hun
dred years ago, sometimes"
Fortune breathed with difficulty.
Never before had he taken her into
his confidence to such extent. She
essayed to speak; the old terror
seemed fairly to smother her. 1t was
not what he had told her, but what
she wished to but dared not ask. She
was like Bluebeard's wife, only she
had not the moral courage to open the
door OF the grisly closet. Her
mother. her uncle; what of them, ah,
what Of them7 The crooked street
vanished; the roar dwindled away;
she was alone, all, all alone.
II suppose ought not to have told
you," he said troubled at the misery
he saw gathered in her eyes and
vaguely conscious of what had written
II there. your mother and uncle
have been very kind to me. They
know less Of me than you do. have
been to them a kind of errand-boy; a
happy-go-lucky fellow, who cheered
them when they had the doldrums."
With forced cheerfulness he again
took her hand and Struggled it under
his arm, giving 1t friendly reassur-
ing pat. 'I1l not speak to you of
love, child, but hair of your head
Is more precious to me than all Midas
gold. Whenever I've thought Of you,
I've tried to be good. Honestly"
And can't you go back to the be-
ginning and start anew?" tremulously.
Can any one go back? The moving
finger writes. An hour is a terrible
thing when you look to see what can
happen In It. But, come; sermons!
I'd far rather see you smile. Won't
your"
She tried to, but to him 1t was sad
der than her tears would have been.
For an hour they walked through
the dim and musty streets. He exert
cd himself to amuse her and fairly
succeeded. But never did the unac-
countable fear, that presage of misfor-
tune, sleep In her heart. And at last,
when he took her to her carriage and
babe her good-by till dinner, half
formed idea began to grow In her
brain; to save Mr. Jones without be-
traying Ryanne.
The latter's carriage was at the 9TH
er end Of the bazaars; so he strobe
sullenly through the press, rudely ell
bowling those who got In his way. An
occasional curse was flung after him;
but hts height, his breadth Of shout
der, his lowering face, precluded any
thing more active. The Moslems had
q deal Of faith in the efficacy Of
curses; 80 the jostled ones rested up
on the pronise Of these, satisfied that
sAirsatly, or In the near future. Allah