The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1915-05-21

comparable figure. And not that
alone. His expression was different
Had Oliver not seen him in his old
likeness for that one terrible half hour
he would not know these features, so
sunken. yet so eloquent with the peace
of one for whom all struggle is over,
and the haven of his long rest near
Had he been able at this moment to
look beyond the fences which his fear
had reared, he would have seen at
either gate a silent figure guarding the
walk, and recalled, perhaps. the hor.
ror of other days when at the contem-
plation of such a prospect. his spirit
recoiled upon itself in unimaginable
horror and revolt. And yet. who
knows! Lies passions fade when the
heart is at peace. And Archibald Os
trander's heart was at peace. Why
his next words will show.
"Oliver'-his voice was low but
very distinct. never have a secret;
never hide within your bosom a
thought you fear the world to know II
you've done wrong-if you have dis
obeyed the law either of God or man
seek not to hide what can never be
hidden SO long as God reigns or men
make laws. | have suffered, as few
men have suffered and kept their rea
son intact Now that my wickedness
is known, the whole page of ny life
defaced, content has come again.
am no longer a deceiver, my very
worst is known"
"Oliver?"-This some minutes later
Are we alone?
quite alone, father. Mrs. Scoville
is busy and Reuther-Reuther is in
the room above I can hear her light
step overhead"
The Judge was silent. He was gaz'
ing wistfully at the wall where hung
the portrait Of his young wife. He was
no longer in his room. but In the
CHEEKY front parlor. This Deborah had
insisted upon. There was, therefore,
nothing to distract him from the con
temptation l have mentioned.
There are things I want to say to
you. Not many; you already know my
story. But do not know yours. and
cannot die till do. What took you
into the ravine that evening. Oliver
and why. having picked up the stick,
did you fling it from you and fly back
to the highway? For the reason
ascribed to Scoville? Tell me. that
no cloud may remain between US. Let
me know your heart as well as you
now know mine"
The reply brought the blood back
into his fading cheek.
Father, l have already explained
all this to Mr.. Andrews. and now | will
explain it to you. | never liked Mr.
Etheridge as well as you did, and
brooded necessarily in those days
over the influence which he seemed to
exert over you in regard to my future
career But l never dreamed of do.
ing him a harm, and never supposed
that | could so much as attempt any
argument with him on my own behalf
till that very night Of Internal compli.
cations and condolences. The cause
gona upstairs, you remember. leaving
you alone with him as knew you de-
sired. How came to be in the room
above I don't remember, but ! was
there and leaning out Of the window
directly over the porch when you and
Mr.. Etheridge came out and stood in
some final debate on the steps be-
low. He was talking and you were lis
tening. and never shall forget the ef-
feet his words and tones had upon me
I had supposed him devoted to you.
and here he was addressing you tartly
and in an ungracious manner which
bespoke a man very different from the
one had been taught to look upon as
superior. The awe of years yielded
before this display. and finding him
just human like the rest of US. the
courage which l had always lacked in
approaching him took instant posses.
sion of me, and / determined with a
boys unreasoning impulse to subject
him to a personal appeal not to add
his influence to the distaste you at
present felt for the career upon which
had set my heart. Nothing could
have been more foolish and nothing
more natural. perhaps. than the act
which followed. ran down into the
ravine with the wild intention. so
strangely duplicated in yourself few
minutes later, of meeting and pleading
my cause with him at the bridge. but
unlike you, took the middle of the
ravine for my road and not the Sc,
cluded path at the side. 1t was this
which determined our fate. father. for
here saw the stick and. catching 1t
up without further thought than of the
facility it offered for whiting, started
with it down the ravine. Scoville was
not in sight. The moment was the
one when he had quit looking for Reu-
ther and wandered away up the ra-
vine. have thought since that per.
haps the glimpse he had got of his lit
tie one peering from the scene of his
crime may have stirred even his guilty
conscience and sent him off on his
purposeless ramble; but. however this
was, | did not see him or anybody
else as took my way leisurely down
towards the bridge, whiting at the
stick and. thinking of what l should
say to Mr.. Etheridge when met him
And now for fate's final and most fatal
touch! Nothing which came into my
mind struck me quite favorably. The
encounter which seemed such very
simple matter when first contem'