The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1913-02-18
copyrisht isia By Emerson nouGh
CHAPTER XXI.


Far of, deep In the underground re-
g1ons OF the city, at the focus Of the
republics vast industrialism, the
presses were Keeling and changing
again, heavy with their story OF dis
aster. The civilization OF the day
went on.
Somewhere out upon the mountain
tops, somewhere In the forests. the
forces OF nature gathered, marched on
toward the sea. Somewhere dumbly,
mutely, accomplishing, the great river
and Its mate, the great power, inter
stellar, not international-they two,
as he but now v~auntingly had dreamed,
erstwhile silent partners OF John
Rawn-did their work. For
whom? For what? Answer
that, my brothers. The answer is
your own. AS you and | shall speak
IN that answer, &c shall Our children
eat well. sleep well. In days yet to
come, in this country which we still
call our own, now all to little ours.
1t was far past midnight when John
Hawn again came down the stair, So
bered and whitened by what he had
seen In the death chamber. He tip
toed now back to the library door,
through which and beneath whose
siiken curtains still there pierced a
little shaft OF light. He opened the
door. peered In.
He saw Virginia sitting there silent,
white, unagitated, her features cameo
sharp. her skin waxen, indeed marble
white, a woman as m~otionless, as ST.
lent, apparently as little animate an
the n he had left behind him in the
death chamber beyond the stair. She
turned her eyes. not her face, toward
him. but did not speak. The edge of
her gown was moist, stained.
John Rawn looked In turn at the
long figure upon the couch, motion
hess, silent, it's hands folded. Neither
did 1t speak to him. Suddenly op-
pressed, suddenly afraid. he turned
once more away. Irresolution was in
bis soul, uncertainty.
Rawn was hardly sure that he still
lived. that he still was the same John
Rawn he once had known. II seemed
impossible that all these things could
have fallen upon him, who had not de-
served theml He pitied himself with
q vast pity, revolving at the many in
Justices of fortune now crowding poon
sim, a wholly blameless man. why.
q DAY before, he a held In his hand
power such as few men could equal;
had had. presently before him, power
none other eve could hope to equal.
That opportunity still existed. But
how now could he avail himself of that
opportunity. how could he go on to be
the great John RawH, IL this figure on
the couch could not rise. could not
speak to him, could not perform the
obvious duty of rendering needful as
~sistance to him, John Rawn? The
cruelty Of 1t all ranked In the great
and justiceloving soul OF Mr.. Rawn.
Why, he vas penniless-he--John
Rawnl He was not even sure about
his wife. yonder. She had said things
to him he could not understand. could
not believe. .
He left the room, and walked still
farther down the hall, his head sag
ging, his lower lip %pendulous, his face
warped into a quicker of self-pity-so
absorbed, that first he did not heed
IN approaching football. He paused
almost In touch of some one who ap-
preached him In the h~alf-lighted hall;
some one who was coming down the
stair and along the hall with steady
tread.
There stood before him now the
same tall, gray-haired. unfashionably
dressed woman whom 80 recently he
vaguely had noted at a distance in the
hall above; some woman apparently
busy with duties connected with the
death chamber, as he had reflected
when he saw her; some neighbor, he
presumed, and certainly useful II
was kind of her to come al this time.
He could not, at the time, reccllect
that he had seer her before. Yes, he
would reward her-he would express
his thanks.
He looked up at her now sharply,
and gasped.
LAURA" he exclaimed. as 1t you? 2"
why, yes, john" answered the tall.
Igaunt woman gently. Didn't you see
me. up there? / suppose you were too
much troubled to notice me, John.
Yes. I'm here. ] thought maybe 1
ought to come.
But you s~ee-this-" she held out
to him the letter she had picked up
from the hall table. This didn't get
to her-Grace-not In time. She died
this morning. before noon, they tell
me She never knew her mother was
coming to her when she was in
trouble. She hadn't seen my letter to
her, telling | was coming. l knew
she wa In trouble-and ] saw all the
stories In the papers. i thought I'd
tell her | was coming to her-and you,
John. She was my girl, after all! /
knew she was In trouble"
How did you known"
Why. she wrote to me, of course.
"a girl always writes to her mother
when she's In trouble. She wrote to
tme right often. She wasn't-well, she