Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1915-03-25
adiuration. with it's expressive hand ac-

adjuration, with its expressive hand ac-
compartment. was meant for the dis
tracted boy, but somehow 1t went far
Their. 1t was the means of checking the
caustic reprimand that rose to the lips
of each of the elder Blagdens, as We'll
as putting his scandalized wife in her
proper place before h could utter a
word-which was something he had
never been able to do before. You
u not give way to rage like that.
You should try to govern, try to con-
quer the vicious impulse that is back
OF such outbursts. l am sorry-very
sorry. Eric-to hear UGH words from
your lips. Only ruffians and the be-
sotted of our world utter such threats.
these base thoughts If you will but try.
Try, my boy. try. u
Amen" exclaimed his wife.
"Amen!" added Chetwynd from his
chair in the corner. Mr.. Presbrey
turned a dark red. He vas conscious
of ridicule in the boys dolorous itera-
ton.
Mr.. Blagden--" he began warmly.
"Chetwynd!" Numbered the young
mans father, Leave the room!"
What have / done?' whined Chef
wynd, thoroughly frightened.
Never mind, Mr.. Blagden, l beseech
YOU cried Mr.. Presbrey in haste. re-
toiiSaooIi lS dH iIlpdi5C. 3hi sbtS
Chetwynd spoke with sincerity in his
heart. DO not chide him, l implore."
Mr.. Rlagden shook his finger at
Chetwynd, and the incident was closed.
But in of the undiscovered recesses
of MI. Presbrey's soul, a small, bitter
thing took root, and from it. all IN
b~eknownst to him, a most unchristiaD
aversion to Chetwynd was to grow with
amazing swiftness. Mr.. Presbrey new
er had hated anyone or anything in all
his life. But he was destined know
the feeling and to enjoy it.
He renewed his appeal to the boy on
the sofa. You would have though that
Eric already stood in the shadow Of
the scaffold, so eloquently did the eX-
cellent gentleman plead for his re-
generation, The boy. after his single
outburst, shrank within himself.
crushed, Inundated, trembling. Some
how, he knew now that old Jabez had
lied to him. and that these horrid SEN
fences confined the truth. The light
went out of his soul, the Warmth from
his heart. A beautiful ideal was being
shattered as he looked on, n he could
offer no resistance to the demolition. 1t
was all true. His father was a muir
derer. He had shot down a man with
out mercy. without fairness. There vas
nothing left for the boy to build on.
nothing that could stand firmly enough
for hin to attach his dreams to-noth-
ing. The minister was telling the
truth. The minister, could not lie. Old
Jabez nae lied. Old Jabez could lie, he
recalled in q haZy fashion as he tried
TO prop up his hopes by putting the old
seaman's word against that of the
divine.
His face .was white with the frost
that had entered his blood. His eyes
were burning, his soul was faint
Twice, even thrice. he looked to his
49, ~ ~ -~I $500 F- h~,.- 10
knew not why. Something told him be-
f~orehand that they would not come to
his relief, that they had no desire TO
shield him from the truth-aye, that
they had brought 1t about for some in
applicable reason of their own He did
not feel the convulsive c%lutching of his
sisters fingers; he was dead to every
thing except the steel that was slip
ping into his heart.
Once he heard Mr.. Presbrey say, as
If from affair: Don't you remember,
Eric dear. the mar who was hanged in
Ridgely county last fall? Think of
that! Think of that mans feelings!"
But he could not think of that mans
feelings. He could only think of his
own. of his sisters. OF his fathers.
Why should she ask him to think of
that mans feelings? What was that
man to him, or to his sister? What had
he to do with the case? That mar had
why hlllSu ia WHY ZIG Ilad 1Ol hilISO
q scoundrel, as his father had lone.
Come to Christ! Come 10 Christi"
droned the gentle, persistent voice OF
the minister, punctuating his harangue
with earnest appeal from time to time.
Out of the maze Eric heard his uncle's
voice:
d. not hesitate on my account,
Presbrey. Tell them of their mother"
In the middle of Mr.. Presbrey's de-
vout castigation Of Horace Blagden's
protagonistic sister, little Mary threw
herself on Eric's shoulder and sobbed
as if her heart would break. Ertc's
trembling voice broke in on her sobs,
in the feeble effort to comfort her.
Don't cry. Mamie, please don't!
Listen! You never can be like that
You've got me. I'll stand by you. Moth
ing can ever happen to you" Then he
turned fercely upon his uncle: why
do you let him say such things abou,
your sister, Uncle Horace? She was
your sister, my mother a I'd kill q
man, If j was a a II he said such
things about my sister! AS an after
clap. he added shrilly: Even if they
hung me for IT."
fled co1nposure that made him .he
great man of Corinth. He felt Of his
watch fob-mind you. he did not tumble
it-and gazed blandly at Mrs. Pres
brey, a queer little smile of apology or
his lips. AS much as to say: In my
own house, DEAF me-"
y won't listen to any more" CRIED
Eric, coming to his feet and facing
them all. 81 shan't stay here. Mary
l know where We can so. l."
Eric! Be quiet" commanded III,
uncle. And sit down"