Evening star., 1924-01-19

! into the new movement with all the
glowing fervor of his nature, Sheila
was whig at heart. So these two
girls whispered Of the same great
| things that sent men talking in secret
groups-fair flowers Of girls, daily
Ing with shadows of flames! :.
1t was when the summer was half
| done that Timothy Ilovelace felt the
touch Of the sacred fire. He stopped
! Mr. JEFFERSON one day. and with a
white face and shaking lips, con-
| fronted him.
! 'Tom," he said tensely, there was
night at the Cocks Feather in the
cerly spring when you and I looked
nard in each others eyes and saw
| there grave things that wrung our
| hearts. Recall you that occasion?"
II do" said Mr.. Jefferson, and
waited.
Il was hot in my loyalty to his
| majesty that night. and did presume
to question you for standing by in
| friendliness to that shabby COM
| moner, who was even then In bad
! repute among all loyalists. Today I
big your indulgence for my youth and
said then, a mans Intentions are be-
| tween him and his Cod I, too, know
what am saying and what my words
! may mean"
\ merry eyes were dark with the ex-
| citement of the times. Mr.. Jefferson
smiled. putting forth his hand to
| crush that of his friend therein. The
! mounting light OF patriotism was in
his face.
Thank God for you, Timothy he
said fervently 81 do thank Him for
you! Such as you and land many
of the young gentlemen of James
town and Richmond whom / might
name-cannot rest long beneath the
| iron heel Of oppression. The Hessian
| blood is intolerable. pressing home
it's power. How long, think you. can
| we endure as we are? How long al
our charters taken away. our repre-
How long bow to a tyranny that
| grinds US with a thousand studied
| wrongs? And we are men and Amer
| leans, we will revolt. And ! say, for
one. the sooner the better!"
Timothy Lovelace came to attend
| the small gatherings which strove SO
earnestly to get at the root Of this
some times met and listened to Patrick
Henry, whose wondrous spiritual fire
clothed his words with magic. And. be
| it said to the young blades honor,
he went once and gave his hand to
| whom he had once reviled. Patrick
Henry took 1t, hardly recognizing its
| owner, for he was so high IN the
clouds of patriotism that the Inn
mediate things Of earth seemed
Word of Patrick Henry by this time
| had flown all over the colonies.
He was called whig and traitor. and
other things as bad; yet there were
many who swore by him as a man Of
true vision. The great travail Of the
| future took hold on him and sent him
restlessly here and there, wherever
were gathered those who would listen
| to him; for he had begun to discover
l. h4f r. live oh a INN
Always when he spoke men listened,
and he knsw dimly that when he was
in full power of his simple speech he
! could swing them hither and yon as
he willed.
There was that in his persuasive
voice which played upon the human
! heart like-like-a woman's fingers
on a spinnet's keys!
Those spinnet keys at the Cocks
Feather Inn had struck deep In
among the melodies Of his nature, and
he seemed on many occasions to hear
again their nameless tunes signing
in the twilight of the tender spring.
But the man had scant time for
romancing, what with his constantly
recurring visions. his rides of forty,
sixty and a hundred miles from this
meeting point to that. and the ter
rible gravity of the moment.
He did, however, recall, with a
thrill. the earnest face Of the young
girl that day by the courthouse door,
what time he pleaded his famous
case. and once he presumed upon that
memory.
It was twilight again Of a silent
summers day, and Doxey. alone for
once. since her father had gone to
Richmond on some errand OF pro-
vender for the inn. sat playing her
airs. as was her wont, in the outer
room.
Upon her spirit had fallen, too. the
unrest Of the times, and her mouth
that smiled so often had taken on
new lines Of staid repression. The
meath her fingers was Of different
fiber from those elusive tunes which
she was wont to play some several
months before. being in accord, un-
ing of the day. 1t streamed into the
darkness of the warm night with
martial seeming. with a vague fore
cast of drums and the tread of march
ing feet. The girls fair face was
the ,eed look a Of sae msrtyrsthe | Keen Papt
look of one who Serves God. a
country ora king. She beheld In
fancy the glory OF her sovereign. as
she had been taught to do since baby
! hood. And she was tory-born.
But youth Is versatile given to
| quick transition, and mood follows
mood like the ripples OF wind IN
grass.
psvs ssr swee, face ,ss tn
playing "The Rose and Thorn" If
she fancied a tall form darkened the
, shadows by the door, she was none
to blame. Thus she played on and
on-her maiden thougnts as pure and
down-so that she did not hear at
| first the deeper. finer, softer timber
| Of the music that seemed to flood the
| right 1t seemed only a deepening Of
L n a ,YSN nj gh
citation Of the tender song
At last her fingers drooped on the
keys: stopped Of their own volition,
| az their owner lost herself in her
:, reflections. and for a full minute the
| girl did not realize that the music
Out OF the dew-damp night be-
yond her window and the open door.
the strains of "The Rose and Thorn"
longing! Doxey Fairweather opened
her beautiful mouth in astonishment
| and listened. without a doubt, a
| spell was on the forest-wftchcraft
was here-for a sobbing voice was
| even. as her spinnet had pleaded
/ but in what exouisitely golden tones,
| what f1eartbreaking meiody!
She held her breath and listened.
! heart. as any Of her iatntier sisters
| Of the aristocracy might have laid
| their rose-leaf fingers. She Wa. IN
| the moment all girl. and the martial
music was forgotten.
| Nearer came the plaintive voice.
like a disembodied soul, drifting
across the dust .S Of the beaten yard,
! maid beheld against the stars taII
form with a violin upon It's shoulder
AS the last strains of The R0se
and Thorn" died p4teously upon the
rfrht she thought Of the words Of her
Iof the card game--'a hshinE, Kidding
| ne'er- knew upon the
instant, that the man in the outer
shadow was Patrick Henry. I!
But the exquisite. blending Of fhe