The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1914-11-07
Author OF
THE MAN HIGHER UP" his RISE
TO POWER" Etc.


BobbeMefriu Company
was leaning weakly against the door
jamb. His brain was Keeling, he
breathed sobbingly, but by bracing him
self desperately with the cane, recov
cred In the struggle to stand, he man
aged to hold what he had won.
His brain cleared again. little
steadiness came to the trembling
| limbs. Summoning all his will, he
passed with uncertain dragging steps
out OF the shed. A cold damp wind
breathed refreshingly upon him. He
gripped his cane more tightly and
!, started slowly down the weedy road.
He reached the foot of the hill and
! sank down in a little rain pool, rested
pantingly and laved his hot face few
minutes, then staggered to his feet
| and limped on until weakness over
came him once more and he fell. q.
More than an hour later he was still
lurching along the road. Kazia and
the mills! They were in danger. they
were being taken from him; he must
save them.
So he beat his way slowly along
moonlit stretches OF rough road.
through darkened ravines where only
instinct found path, until at last,
rounding a curve, he saw the furnace
looming huge before him.
AS hours passed and Mark did
not return, a sense Of an approaching
priCiC n q danonr IN o. I'll Tho
squall died away, full darkness fell,
the train she was to have taken with
Piotr rolled to a stop at the station
and out again, and still he had not re-
turned. The sense grew heavier, pas
sive waiting unbearable. To escape
her foreboding she went out into the
night and walked about again in the
place she had once thought of as a
haven. But she quickly left the ram
bling old village, seen for the first
time, yet holding SO many memories
of which she must not think, and went
over to the new Bethel with its wide
paved streets and rows of pretty little
cottages. Many of the cottages were
dark and untenanted as yet, but she
saw them as they would be when they
were the homes of happy folk who
toiled without exhaustion or fear, with
kindness in their hearts one for an.
other.
She left the cluster Of homes-to-be
and retraced her steps over the street
that led past the mills to the bridge,
started to cross. But at the entrance
she stopped. Everywhere 1t was the
same. a redolence of him. After all,
to her Bethel, the haven, was Just
Mark Truitt.
All her fine resolutions and philoso-
ply had become insufficient The sight
Of the river, the woods in their au-
tumnal glory, the song of the rapids
had revivified the scenes of her one
happiness.
She did not think that there might
be some to see. She was weeping,
head bowed on the bridge rail.
"Oh, shouldn't have come. / want
him-him. And / have no right to
have him. 1t would be the cruelest
thing l could do to him-even If he
cared. / was wrong to come"
Thus she told hope-the immortal!
it must not live.
Old Simon had no skill for II and
hence no part in the building of the
mills. But he spent his days watching
them grow. Often at night, when
Bethel was sleeping. he would slip
across the river to realize again that
after SO many years his dreams were
coming magnificently true.
That night he left his seat on the
stoop, where he had been wonderingly
but patiently awaiting the absent
Mark, and trudged down to the river
and across the bridge He saw the
figure leaning on the rail at the farther
end, but not until he was close did he
see 1t was that of a weeping woman.
He would have turned aside, but he
perceived that she had heard him and
lifted her head.
He stopped short, staring in aston
ishment at the woman, a sort that had
never before come within his ken.
hilCi hlOulCut . utSlldllOu ne went
to her.
rs anything wrong, ma'am"
She shook her head.
rs there anything kin do fur ye?"
Again the silent gesture.
IF there is" he persisted: I'D like
to do 1t fur ye"
She found her voice. TT is moth
ing" She tried to smile. Sometimes
women cry for nothing. about little
things"
Some women do" Simon answered
gravely. Il guess ye're a stranger
here. amt ye? I'm Simon Truitt."
She started. You're his father?"
Simon noted the unconscious use OF
the pronoun. Marks, We mean? Yes,
maam. Did We know him, back there
in the city,"
She nodded. rot trusting herself to
speak, and turned her face from the
moonlight. She seemed to be strug-
Cling again with rising sob.
Simon found himself peefing. closely
and unintentionally, into her eyes. He
stepped hastily back and heard him.
self speaking with a holiness he did
not recognize.