Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1915-05-25
CHAPTER XVII-ContInued.

CHAPTER xVII-ContInued.
And so with each new arrival He
entrance, but left 1t to Mr.. Black to do
the honors and make the best of sit
1atiOn, difficult, If not inexplicable to
all of them. Nor could it be seen that
any Of these men-city officials, promi-
nent citizens and old friends, recog-
ntzed his figure or suspected his
Identity. Beyond a passing glance his
way, they betrayed neither curiosity
lOr interest, being probably sufficient
" occupied in accounting for their
OWN presence in the home of their
once reVered and now greatly ma
ligned compeer. Judge Ostrander, at
acked through his son, was about to
say or do something which each and
every one Of them secretly thought
had better be left unsaid or undone.
Yet none showed any disposition to
leave the place; and when, after a
short, uneasy pause during which all
attempts at conversation failed, they
heard a slow and weighty step ap-
preaching down the hall, the suspense
was such that no one but Mr.. Black
noticed the quick whirl with which
Oliver turned himself about, nor the
look of mortal anguish with which he
awaited the opening of the door and
his fathers entrance among them. No
one noticed, say, until, Simultaneous
~ with the appearance of Judge Os-
trander on the threshold, a loud cry
swept through the room of Don't!
dOn'ti" and the man they had barely
noticed, flashed by them all, and fell
at the judges feet with a smothered
repetition of his appeal: Don't. IA
Their. DON'T"
Then, each man knew why he had
been summoned there, and knowing,
gazed earnestly at these two faces.
Twelve years of unappeased longing,
of smothered love, rising above doubts,
persisting In spite of doubts, were con-
centrated into that one instant of mu-
tual recognition. The eye of the IA
Their was upon that Of the son and that
Of the son upon that of the father and
for them, ct least in this first instant
OF reunion, the years were forgotten
effaced from their mutual conscious
ness.
Then the tide of life flowed back into
the present, and the judge, motioning
to his son to rise, observed very dis
-ttnctly:
Don't Is an ambiguous word, my
son, and on your lips, at this juncture
may mislead those whom l have called
here to hear the truth from US and the
truth only. You have heard what hap
pened here a few days ago. How a
lOng-guarded, IOng-suppressed suspi-
CiOn-sO guarded and so suppressed
that I had no intimation of its ex-
lstence even, found vent at a moment
of public indignation, and l heard you,
you, Oliver Ostrander, accused to my
face Of having in some boyish fit of
rage struck down the man for whose
death another has long since paid. the
penalty. This you have already been
told"
Yes" The word cut sharply
through the silence; but the fire with
which the young man rose and faced
them all showed him at his best. But
surely, no person present believes it.
No one can who knows you and the
principles in which have been raised.
This fellow whom | beat as a boy has
waited long to start this damnable re-
port. Surely he will get no hearing
from unprecedented and intelligent
men"
The police have listened to him.
Mr.. Andrews, who is one of the gen.
tlemen present, has heard his story
and you see that he stands here silent.
my son. And that is not all. Mrs.
Scoville, who has loved you like a
mother, longs to believe in your limo.
cence, and cannot"
A low cry from the hall.
It died away UNDECIDED
And Mr.. Black. her husbands couu.
sell" continued the father, in the firm
low tones of one who for many long
DAYS and nights had schooled himself
for the duty for this hour. shares her
feeling. He has tried not to: but he
does. They have found evidences-you
know them; proofs which might not
have amounted to much had 1t not
been for the one mischievous fact
which has undermined public conf
dence and given point to these attacks
I refer to the life we have led and the
barriers we have ourselves raised
against our mutual intercourse. These
have undone us. To the question, Why
these barriers?' l can find no answer
but the one which ends this struggle
SuCcumbing myself, | ask you to do Sc
also. Out of the past comes voice
the voice of Algernon Etheridge, de-
handing vengeance for his untimely
end. 1t will not be gainsaid. Not sat
tsded with the toll we have both paid
in these years of suffering and repres-
siOn-unmindful of the hermit's life
have led and of the heart disapp0int-
ments you have borne. its cry for pun
ishment remains insiStent. Gentlemen
hush! Oliver, 1t is for me to cry
Don't now-John Scoville was a
guilty mana murderer anG thief
but he did not WELD the stick which
killed Algerzon Etheridge. Another
hand raised that. No, do not look at
the boy lie is Innocent Look here!
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