The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1916-11-16
CHAPTER VI-(Continued).

this closet the week before, in order to
hang therein her Sunday gowns, whose
front breadth was covered with grease
spots, thickly oyerlaid with French
chalk. The French chalk had done Its
work and removed the grease spots,
and now lay thickly OH the floor
OF the closet, but the imprisoned bride
groom did not know that, and he sat
down quite naturally TO rest from his
unusual eXertions, n to reflect on
what could be done next. The immed1-
ate present passed rapidly in review.
He could not afford more than 10 min
utes TO get out Of this hole. He ought
10 be on the way to the church at once.
There was no knowing what nonsense
Celia might get into her head II he de-
ayed. He had known her since her
childhood, and she had always scorned
him, The hold he had upon her now
was like a rope of sand, but only he
knew that. IL he could but knock that
old door down! II he only hadn't hung
Gp his coat In the closet! II the mar
who built tho house only hadn't put
such q fool catch OF the door! When
be got out he would take time to chop
II Off II only he had a little more
room, and q little more air! 1t was
sitting! Great beads of p~erspiration
went rolling down his hot forehead, and
bis wet collar made a cool band about
his neck. He wondered If he had an
80 ttCoti olt Vi AA1N 49,
style with him. IL he only could get
out OF this accursed place! Where were
all the people? Why was everything
90 still? Would they never come and
let him out?
He reflected that he had told the jan
ltor he would occupy the room with his
baggage for two or three weeks per-
haps. but he expected to go away on a
trip this very evening. The janitor
would not think 1t strange II he did
not appear. How would 1t be to stay
here and die? Horrible thought!
He jumped UP from the floor n
began his howlingS a gyrations once
more. but soon desisted, and sat down
20 be entertained by a panorama of his
past life, which Is always unpleasantly
In evidence at such times. Fine n
clear in the darkness Of the closet stood
out the nicely laid scheme of deviltry
py which he a contrtved to be at last
within reach Of q coveted fortune.
Occasionally would come the frantic
thought that just through this little
mishap OF a foolish clothespress catch
he might ever yet lose Ii. The fraud
and trickery by which he had an heir
ess in his power did not trouble him
90 much as the thought of losing her
at least of losing the fortune. He must
have that fortune, for he was deep in
dept. and-but then he would refuse to
think, and get up to batter at his pris-
pm loo again.
Four hours his prison walls enclosed
him, with inky blackness all around
saw for q faint glimmer of light, which
marked the well fitted base Of the door
as the night outside drew On. He had
lighted the gas when he began dressing,
for the room q already been filled
with shadows, and now. 1t began to
seem as If that streak of Pickering gas
light was the only thing that saved him
from losing his mind,
Somewhere from out of the dim shad-
ows "a face evolved itself and gazed a
him, q haggard face with piercing hol-
low eyes n despair written upon IL.
II reproached him with a sin he thought
IONS forgotteH. He shrank back in hor-
ror and the cold perspiration stood out
upon his forehead, for the eyes were
the eyes OF the man whose name he
had forged upon a note involving trust
money Is years before; and the man, a
quiet, kindly, un~suspecting creature had
suffered the penalty In a prison cell I'M
Gil his death soroe five years ago.
Sometimes at night in the first years
after his crime, that face had haunted
him, appearing at odd Intervals when
ne was plotting some particularly shady
means Of adding to his income, until he
had resolved to turn over a new leaf,
and actually gave up one or two
schemes as being too INSCRIPTIONS to
be INDUCED in, thus acquiring a COM
forting feeling Of being ~virtuous. But
u was long since the face had come.
Pethad settled 1t in his mind that the
{ gerry was merely a patch Of wild
Cats which he had sown In his youth.
something to be regretted, but not too
severely blamed for. and thus ~forgiving
himself he had grown to feel that It
was more the worlds fault for not CIV
ing what he wanted than his own for
putting a harmless old man In prison.
or the shame that had killed the old
man he knew nothing, nor could have
understood. The actual punishment
itself was all that appealed to him. He
was ever hat had to be taught with
the lash. n then only kept straight
while 1t was in sight.
But h face was very near and vivid
here In the thick darkness. 1t was like
q cell, this closet. bare, cold, black. The
eyes In the gloom seemed to pierce him
with the thought: This is what you
made me suffer. 1t Is your turn now. It
Is your turn now!" Nearer and nearer
they came looking into his own, until
they saw down into his very soul, his
little sinful soul. and drew back ap-
palled at the littleness and n Of
what they saw.
Then for the first time in his whole
selfish life George Hayne knew
shame, for h eyes read forth to him
all that they had seen, and how 1t
t00keQ 10 tnen' ana DeSlQe the tale
they told the eyes were clean Of sin
and almost glad in spite of suffering
wrongfully.
Closer and thicker grew the air Of
the small closet: ftercer grew the rage
and shame and horror of the man in
c~arcerated.
Now, from out the shadows there
looked other eyes, eyes that had never
haunted him before; yes of victims to
whom he had never cast a half a
thought. Eyes OF men and women he
had robbed by his artful, gen.
tiemanly craft: eye OF innocent
girls whose wrecked lives had con-
tributed to his selfish scheme of
hvings even the great reproachful
eyes Of little children who a looked
10 him for pity and found one. Last,
above them all were the eyes of the
lovely girl he was to have married.
He had always loved Celia Hathaway
more than he could have loved anyone
or anything else besides himself, and II
had eaten iRto his very being that he
never could make her bow to him; not
even by torture could lie bring her to