Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, March 08, 1893, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. | 3,\\ Jiulependcnt .d&uiiilj llciispaper: ,Jbr the promotion of the political, Social Agricultural and (Commercial Jntercsfs of the ?outh. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL. 39. YOBKVILLE, S. C? WEDNESDAY, MARCH 8, 1893. aSTO. IP. ??S ill If BY JAMES KN. [Copyright, 1892, by Ainerican Press CHAPTER I. | a i :m j .B Aii'ri' , ^ ' I He opened it and read. Ogden Chalmers had just reached New i Orleans and procured the first mail that | he had received for six months. It was ( a characteristic of his?a whim, it might! have been called in another man?to be , bothered as little as possible by letters, j papers or telegrams when traveling. It! was also characteristic that ho often put l: if ?l?li? ! illlUocil WUVXIJ wrj vuu tuc icavii wi or post?perhaps to make doubly sure against such interruption. He had been in Mexico this time, over on the west coast, as far from civilization as he could get, and one may get very far from it indeed there, as every one knows who has had the courago to leave the beaten routes of travel. For. although a finished cosmopolite, Chalmers could adapt himself to the , manners of any people who lived close , to the ways of nature, and hence was as ( much at home among the ignorant peons of Oajaca or Chiapas as upon the pavements and amid the more polished civilization of New York or San-Francisco. There was no apparent reason why Ogden Chalmers?man of fortune and ^ of leisure?should not wander as he pleased or hide himself from the world where and when he chose. He was al- , most wholly without ties?with the single exception of a half brother somewhat younger than himself wholly without? , and his money safely invested, rather so , as to avoid care in its management than ; , with a view toward securing the largestj possible income, he was of course free , , to go and come as he would. He had now come direct to New Orleans via steamer from Vera Cruz, and ! j all the way across the gulf had been , 1 wondering why he was coming hither, i : and which way it would be best to turn i j n6xt. It really mattered very little, but j he supposed he must come to a decision ' 1 of some sort in the latter respect. It; , was winter, and so he did not care to go ; \ farther north. California was an old! : story- _In Cuba the hotels were bad; he ! ] c.-uiict find moro comfort in un Indian', j tepee than there. Then, again, he won- j dered why he had come this way at all; he might better have joined those newspaper men he had met at San Benito? Bohemians, but most thoroughly good fellows?and gone with them down to see the revolution in Guatemala. Yet, after all, something was to be said : in favor of New Orleans in midwinter; j it certainly was not the worst of places i at that season; perhaps he might as well i make up his mind to stay awhile and | see what would turn up. Having come ! to which conclusion Chalmers placed ! his name upon the register of the St. j Charles, and went into breakfast, tak- i ing with him his six months' accumula-1 tion of mail. There was not much of it, j and ho uo'.'cid *.h-* fact whimsically, as indicating how slight were the ties between himself and the world. There j were but two letters and a single paper. One of the letters was from his brother, and bore various postmarks, showing , how it had followed him about. He opened it and read: j Dear Ocden?I am In a devil of a fix about j money. Will yon help me out? If you will, , come home ut oi.ce. as I shall need a big lot. 1 can hold things off for a month, but if you can't'help me by that time I must go under. Your affectionate brother, George Chalmers. ' The letter was dated September first. ' It was now the* fifteenth of January. Chalmers was so deeply engrossed by i 1 the contents of this one that he opened j * the second letter mechanically, without j observing that the address was written in a woman's hand. Mechanically, too, his eye ran over its brief lines,, until their import flashed suddenly upon his | brain. This letter read: Dear Mr. Chalmers?Your brother has been arrested for embezzlement. The bank j claims to have lost more than a hundred thou- i sand dollars. I write you because George will j not, and 1 think you ought to know. He says you will not help him. Must I believe it? Yours sincerely, Lina Tennant. This letter was dated October first, just a month after his brother's letter was written?just the month, he noticed, that George had said he could "hold things off." The paper still lay unopened beside his plate, but Chalmers was so absorbed in the contents of these two letters and j in the effort to grasp the full meaning of their message that he gave the for- 1 mer no attention until he came to realize, through some intuitive process, that its superscription was by the saine hand ; that had penned the letter signed "Lina | Tennant." Then he tore the wrapper off impatiently, duly wondering the while what new word of evil he should find therein. Almost at once a marked paragraph stood out, as though it were [ t*. -i. ' pimicu in uai>u<us. 11 xeau; "George Chalmers, the embezzling 1 cashier of the National bank, was I 1 yesterday adjudged guilty on each count; 5 of the indictment and sentenced to ten years of hard labor in the state peniten- 1 tiary at Columbus." 1 The paper was a Cleveland paper of 1 January first. The tragedy w;is com- ' plete in three acts. Chalmers went on with his breakfast, 1 as he would under almost any circumstances whatever have gone on with any-' 1 thing in which he happened to be en- 1 gaged. But this action was mechanical, as after the first daze had passed away 1 he began to think clearly and rapidly ' alxmt the matter in hand. By the time 1 he had finished his coffee and dropped a ' fee in the palin of the attentive waiter he had every detail of action systematically arranged. "You may cancel my room," he said 1 to the man at the desk as he returned to ' the hotel office. "I shall go on north by ' the first train. How soon can I leave?" "There will be nothing now until; j night, sir. The first train is out at nine fifteen. Sorry you are going to leave us so soon," went c-n the clerk affably. 1 "Good time to see New Orleans, sir; ' French opera tonight and plenty of quadroon balls going, if you care for J that sort of thing." Chalmers stared hard at the man and ' waited until he had finished. Then he said quietly: "See that my luggage is sent down in ' time for that train and have it checked ( for Cleveland, and get me a Pullman ; section through as far as you can. Now please give me some telegraph blanks." He penned two telegrams. One was to Lina Tennant and was as follows: "I have just heard; shall leave for Cleveland tonight." The ether was to Winston. Lanny and . 1 ?? ' '''' ' I APP REEVE. Association.] Company, Broad street. New York. It \ said: "Turn everything you can into cash and have subject to sight draft within three days. Shall want at least one hundred thousand." When he had sent these it was not quite eleven o'clock. Ten hours of enforced idleness, of absolute inactivity, were before him just at the time when it was more important than it had ever yet been in his whole life that he should be doing something. He had not plant ed for this, and so chafed under the delay and sought for some means by which the time might be employed. Once he thought he would write to George; then he decided to wait and see Lina Tennant and the bank people and learn the whole story. He would make sure of what he I could do before writing to George or j going to Columbus. That he could do something with the means at his command he never doubted for a moment. As to what that something would be, what form it would take, his ideas as yet were indefinite. That would depend upon what he learned at Cleveland. The long day dragged itself on and came to a close at Jast. It was raining when it was time for him to go to the train, and all through the night he could hear the storm beating in gusts against the windows of his berth. All the next day, as the train speeded on northward through the boundless pine forests of Alabama, the rain kept pouring steadily down and adding dreariness to every dreary hour. It would have been enough . had his errand and his thoughts been of the pleasantest. But as it was, with his mind fixed so steadily upon the one wretched fact before him, the monotony was almost unbearable. At Cincinnati, as he changed cars tho next morning, the rain had given place to snow, and as he still went on northward through Ohio the white blanket grew deeper and deeper over the land. The monotony of it was awful; like a shroud spreading itself out over toe earth and, thought Chalmers, winding ever closer and closer about himseif. Would it wind him so close in its foils that he could do nothing in this matter upon which he had come up into this inhospitable wintry land? Toward noon the snow had grown so deep that it began to impede tho progress of the train; frequently it stopped, while the engine was driven ahead to clear the track. A snowplow v-as put on and it threw up , great solid walls of snow, like quarried marble, on either side the line. It seemed as if the snow would never stop com'ng and as though they must be swallowed up in the white desolation. I A passenger in the seat opposite Chal- i mers asked the conductor if they should be able to get through. "I don't know yet. The road is re- \ ported blocked a little way above here. They may get it open by the time v e reach there. If not, the through passengers had better go around by Columbus." Chalmers listened nervously. He knew ; that route. The track wound along | close beneath the great gray walls of j the prison. George was there; he could aot go that way. It would be easi er to lose a little time, even after huirying tor a tliuusaud miles as fast as steam could bring him. At Springfield it was yet doubtful whether they should be able to get through, and some of the passengers changed there and went around by the Columbus branch. This would strike the main line again farther up, ai I would probably save some delay. But Chalmers remained in his coach at d the tram kept on its way?slow ana unce-tain, but gradually making towar I Cleveland. He took out his time card after awhile and made some careful calculations. 'Jim. snow was reported not so bad farther north: they should gtc ! through, but would not reach Cleveland until long after dark. Chalmers felt that he could not endure another nig! t cf suspense and uncertainty, and at the next station he sent another telegram to Lina Tennant. This one read: "Shall be in tonight, but train will be rery late. Wait." After this lie settled down with what patience he could, himself to "wait" j ilso, and let the day and the train take :heir own course to the end. CHAPTER II. It was after ten o'clock when the i train finally rolled into the Union sta:ion. In t\\ j minutes Chalmers was in i cab and had given his order to the . I river: I "Yes. Why not' ]h is to he my lw> biunl." "iNumoer .rruspeci street. Out in the bracing air of the northern winter night he began to feel like himself again. The blowing of the keen wind in his face served to disperse the cloud of doubts and fears that had so tormented him throughout the long and tedious journey. He was again a man Df action, and would beat down the bairiers that stood between his brother and this free air. He began to take some note of his surroundings, and became conscious of the smooth motion of his cab, and saw that it was on runners instead of wheels; and all about him in the broad, well lighted streets other sleighs were speeding about, and the bells upon the harness were jingling merrily, and tltere were sounds of laughter and carnival. As he passed through the square the theaters were just out and the electric lights up in the tall tower shone down an a brilliant scene of fair women and ! gallant men. How George did love to be amid such bounding life and a part cf it, and how well he had always borne himself in it. And then the contrast and the wretchedness of the errand that brought him here this night swept over him as it had not done l>efore?came back upon him again with renewed and appalling force as lte stopped at Lina Tennant's door. He had not paused "to think of himself until now. .Self had been repressed and every thonght and energy of the man bent solely to the one purpose of getting as speedily as he could to those who needed him. That Lina needed him no less than George did was a thing of which he felt assured instinctively, without any elaborate process of reason mg. Her faith 111 tieorge nau neen so complete, her pride in him so great, and she would feel this disgrace so keenly, but would hide it all within her own breast. She would neither ask nor per- ; mit sympathy from any. Perhaps 6he ! would repel him?deny that she needed ( hiin. And then Chalmers remembered an- | other time, another night?years ago it seemed now, though he was still young, ' as men go?when she had repelled him as perhaps she would again this night, j Then she had hushed the words that 1 burned upon his lips for utterance?had 1 hushed him with a quick, impetuous wave of the hand as if he had been i nothing and his passion nothing?and as if the passion of her had been ever thing?the universe, infinity, eternity? and that before its flood all else must i give way without question. She was | not ashamed of it; she used no subter- ! fuge; she gloried in it. '*1 love your brother!" she had said. I It was as if he had said: "See, I li. ve all the world?all that it contains is mine. All that is beautiful i or precious or to be desired by the heart of a woman is mine. What can you offer me more? What can you give me in exchange if I sacrifice all this?" What con id he, indeed? A few years less of youth; a somewhat better for- 1 tune; a wider knowledge of the world. But this latter had its drawbacks; while lie could offer her n very honest and manly love, he could not offer her the boyish adoration that goes with fewer years and narrower experience. I do not say that this was the reason why he | could not win her; he might not have j won her in any case, even had there been no one else. But there was another, younger, more ardent, perhaps j better fitted to mate with her young life. And so when slio had stopped him with that gesture, and said, "I love your brother," he had not argued his cause further. Whatever the prize wa , however much he might otherwise have i striven for it. he would not strive against him. And as for her?she was but a woman, and with such a woman the passion and abandon of love outweighs all else. One might protest as well against the sweep- j ing power of fire or flood as to try and stay its coui ;e. Such love gives much, and gives freely and glories in the giving, and it demands much in return; it i will share with no utile**. And such j love will forgive much, but there are ! some things it will never forgive. Chalmers had not expected any outbreak. He knew that her pride would force and sustain a calm and confident exterior, and lie felt that to him le<s than to any other would she willingly j lay bare any of the tortnrings of her heart in this trial. Yet he had hardly looked to meet at once the glint of femi- j nine armor. Perhaps he would have j been better prepared had he known more ( of women. Hon* they steel themselves sometimes against those who would help them most?whose help in their very j hearts they most desire. The room into which Chalmers was ushered, and where he waited for her 1 only a brief moment, bore evident traces : of individuality. Somehow you could I have told that it was a woman's room, though tliero was nothing of mere prettiness about it, no knickknaeks, no hodgepodge of bric-a-brac and home art ; with which women of nonindividuality j clutter their surroundings. There were ! many books, a few good engravings upon the wall, a small bronze of a flying Me**- ' cury, and these were disposed as if they j were severally read and studied and look- j ed at?not as mere decorative paraphernalia?but as a part of the everyday life of the inmate. Into ttuch a room, thought Chalmers ; (and to such a woman, too, perhaps), a \ man could come and beat bis best; here 1 a man (and this mythical woman) could j meet upon a common level, talking, j thinking, bringing out the best that was in each other, forgetting or unheeding i tnat lesser anil oaser lire mac must per- | force be lived out in the world and j among men. Into such a room (and to such a worn- ! an, too, perhaps) he had once thought j it might be possible for him to come; but that lime had gone now. He must ! only think of these things impersonally. To this point in his reverie had Glial- j mers come when Miss Tennant entered j the room. "You have come at last," she said, in an even monotone, as she gave him her j hand. Chalmers was not prepared for the coldness or restraint of her greeting. Yet with a charity that not many who : knew him would have thought him ' capable of he did not resent it. "You blame me for not coming soon- j er," ho answered; "but I did not know. ; Your letter and his and the paper that j you sent all came to me at the same time. Since then I have come as fast as steam could bring me. I have been in Mexico." Thus much he felt he must say in his own defense, but it availed him nothing. "You should not have gone away so," I she said. "You are older than your brother; you have some duties." "You do well to reproach me," ho said moodily. "I went away for you and for him." "You should not have gone," she said again insistently, "at least not so far? 1 not in this way. There was no reason why you should go at all; and he had only you to look to." Doubtless she had been sorely hurt. Women do not stand well the breaking of their idols. And to cover her hurt, womanlike, she turned upon him who had been in nowise to blame. Chalmers thought to himself that it was strange that he should not resent this. He had always been a man who ! was impatient of criticism. Perhaps if he had been in any way to blame in this matter, if there had been any self accusation to contend against, he might have resented her words. She wan calm and pale and cold. But looking at her more closely he could see 1 hat she kept herself under control only by the most determined effort. He would not make it any harder for her. "Yes, I have been to blame," he said | finally. "I should not have gone. But J i nave come uacic now 10 neip mm?auu you, if you will let me. Tell me what I can do." "Oh, I don't know," she answered. 1 "I am only a woman. I could do nothing. I thought when you came you would know?you could suggest" She had depended on him, then. The thought gave Chalmers a new determination to he gentle with her and helpful, whether she asked him or not. He watched the nervous twisting of her long slender lingers for a moment? the only sign of emotion?heforo he spoke again. "I don't understand what has happened. I have had no word except that you sent me. I have seen no one here, j You see 1 am wholly at a loss" "Yes, I understand. You must know the whole story." "I would like to spare you," he said, j "I might get it from some one else; hut it would he better if you could tell me." j "I can tell you," she answered, and then she lifted her head and Chalmers saw in her eyes a glint of the old time l fire and pride. "I can tell you," she repeated; "why not? He did not mean to | do any wrong. I want you to he sure 1 of that, as 1 am. But he longed so to | be a rich man, to have control of money. He wanted to pay hack all that you had 1 given him, and to make more?even j more than you had. He wanted to do the things that can be done only with j monev. to he in the front of great ente - prises." Slit* stopped a moment as if to consider whether it were best to say that which was next in her mind. Then she continued: "1 think he was always a little jeal- ! otis of your money; and it was only the ) more hard because you were so generous with him. lie wanted to show you what he could do alone." "I used to be afraid the money would come between us," said Chalmers; "but I could not help it. It was not my fault that I had the most. You know that it came through my mother, and father i always insisted that it should remain wholly mine. (Joorge would not haw I envied me if he knew how little comfort i it has been. It w is because I had this I advantage, Lina, that I gave up to him ' so readily i.i other things. And it has : brought me nothing else worth the having." He looked fixedly at his companion as he said this, and she flushed deeply i under his steady gaze. "Yes, I know," she answered; "but let us not speak of the past. He wanted j to make money. There was a great panic in the stock market last fall?per-, haps you knew (Chalmers shook his ; head negatively at this)?and George ! thought that it was his opportunity. I don't know much about these things? j perhaps I do not tell this quite right," , she said apologetically, "but I will tell you as I understand it. He thought if ; he could buy them when stocks were | so low he would be entirely safe. He; put in everything he had (he only told me this aftc ward, after it was all over) j and bought on margins. But stocks went down further, and to save himself; he took some money from the bank. : You see he thought it would all coir* j right in a little while. But stocks went down again, lower and lower still, and then he wrote to you." "He did not tell me how bad things were; but it would not; have made any j difference, ns T did not get his letter un-! til now." "George always believed that you had received it. Fred Ermston came up from Mexico and said that he had met you at Vi ra Cruz, and that you should remain there for the winter." "Yes. I did think of that or of staying near there. Vera Cruz itself, you j know, is a beastly place. But 1 changed ; my mind and went over on the other coast, and only came back there on my way out. The letters followed me to one or two points, reaching them always after I had gone on, and finally were sent forward to New Orleans to wait for me." "Well, he felt very badly about it. It would have been a comfort to him if lie could only have heard from you. But he kept on hoping until the end of the month; then he went to Mr. Rodney, the president, and told him all about it." "He did that before there was any suspicion of wrong?" "Yes, he did it of his own accord. 1 think he expected that Mr. Rodney' would help him until they could he ir from you. You see, he never quite gave you up." "What did Rodney say?" "He sent at once for an officer and had George arrested." Miss Tennant could not control herself sufficiently to continue the story further, and Chalmers forbore to press her with questions. He paced thoughtfully across the room, his eyes fixed the while upon the young girl who sat with tier face bowed upon her hands. Her pride could carry her 110 further along this difficult path, and she bent before him and gave way to the abandon of her grief. lie passed and repassed her silently; he could see the outline of her cheek, and fancied it had grown thinner since ho had seen her last. Her form, too, seemed more slender, and the coiled masses of black hair rested like a burden instead of a crown upon the small head. He paused beside her at last, longing ro put out his hand and stroke the shining hair and speak words of comfort to her, as an elder brother might. But he dared not trust himself. Perhaps she felt tlio sympathy of his presence, for she raised her head and looked at him trustingly. "Would money have saved him after that? I mean after he told Rodney?" asked Chalmers. "No." The answer was positive and hopeless. The tone in which the girl uttered the single word carried a weight of conviction that nothing could havo intensified. So positive was it that Chalmers was startled by it. "No! Why? IIow do you know?" ho asked. Iljw Yon tried it?' ..Yes' You know I have somcmonej. I went to sec Mr. Rodney ns soon as 11 knew." "What did he say to you?" "That the law must take its course." "But would you have given up everything for him? It would have taken all; you had." "Yes. Why not? lie is to be my husband." "Then yon will still marry him?after ; this?" "Yes; why not?" She flashed the answer at him as if there could be but that one reply. "I tell you lie did not mean to do any wrong." Chalmers took out his watch and looked at it. "I will see Rodney myself in the morning. It is too late now?and I will see others. I must have time to think whom I need. After that 1 shall go and see George. Good night, Linn." As she took his hand at parting the girl looked at him again confidingly. She had put away the defensive arm t now. It was not needed with this man, who avoided so carefully and chivalrously any word or sign that could distress her, that could reflect upon George, or that could stir up memoties of the past that it were best should remain buried. She even smiled at him hopefully as she said good night. "You will see me again soon," she said. "Just as soon as I have learned anything of importance; as soon as I have decided upon anything. Some time tomorrow at least." "It is tomorrow now." she answered, ! glancing up at the long hands of the hall clock. And then she added meaningly, "Time flies." "Yes, that is the trouble with Time," | answered Chalmers musingly. "When we want him to go quickly he limps along like a lame old man. He has been 1 going at that pace for me for years, j And now that I would like him to wait a little he courses like a race horse." "I suppose he cannot suit us all," she i said. "For me time has been going so fast. It was because we w'ere happy; but since, while I have been waiting for : you to come, it has passed so slowly. I have thought the days?and nightswould ne"er be done." Again, by both words and manner, she let him see how much she had de* 1 1-i- . . TT. I pent leu on nun aim on ms coiii;i- ne was sorry for her?even more so. y than ! for George or for himself. CHAPTER III. I I ^ "I can't recommend the (inventor to jutrthai him." When the door had closed between them and Chalmers found himself again in the open air he felt himself in need < f physical action to relieve the mental Kress under which he had held himselt so long. A walk would do liiin good, and as he started toward the hotel to which he had sent his luggage he took * definite satisfaction in crunching the frozen snow of the pavement briskly under foot. It was after midnight and the aspect of the city had changed. The lights gleamed as brightly as ever in the tall towers, but the merrymakers were gone from the streets. Virtuous and respectable folk had gone to their homes and only the wayfarer and the guardians of the peace remained. Here and there a burst of light and noise came out from the suddenly opened door of a drinking place, as a tipsy reveler came reeling out. A beggar brushed past him and asked for alms. In the square, where had shone such a brilliant scene but a little time before, the shadows of the foliage now made queer flickering shadows on the smooth snow, and in their half light a wretched unsexed outcast of the streets lurked and leered ut him. "Poor devil," he muttered to himself as he tossed Iter a coin, "we're all in trouble together;" and his thoughts were of his brother, in his narrow cell, and of himself, and of the blackhaired woman whom they both loved, but whom now neither perhaps would over wed. Having put his hand to the Usk, Chalmers now shrank from nothing that was needful to further his purpose. His first duty in the morning was to see Mr. Rodney; this he preferred to do at that gentleman's house rather than at the bank, where lie was so well known and where he felt that he would be stared at curiously. The bank president was courteous. but firnilv negatived his pro posals. "1 am sorry for you, Chalmers," lie said, "lint I can't do a tiling to help you. No, I can't recommend the governor to pardon him. It wouldn't be right. No, 1 don't care about the money, the bank can stand that well enough; but it's the principle of the thing. Lots of young men right here in this town are following in George's footsteps, and they've got to be scared out of it. It's the only way to stop them." "I did not understand, Mr. Rodney," said Chalmers stiffly, "that stock gambling?speculation we'll call it?was so wholly opposed to your own practice." "Speculation be blowed!" exclaimed the president, with unfeigned astonishment. "I hope you don't take any stock in that cock and bull story your brother told to Miss Tennant. I thought that was only for the purpose of letting her down easy, so I didn't say a wordthough it was mighty hard work to keep still?when she came here to me with the deeds of every blessed thing she owned and wanted to square his accounts. That girl's a trump, I tell you, Chalmers. But do you suppose I would see her little fortune go to replace money that had gene into the rapacious maw r .1-;. ^ril t : 1... ....llo |,? or l I11S 1^1 IK*, ljt'IMIir, r*nu v.aiia ><v^? self? No. sir: I ain't that kind of a man." "I presume you know what you are saying. Mr. Rodney," replied Chalmers with raininess, startled though he was by the president's implications. "But remember, if you traduce my brother needlessly or attribute to him matters that yon cannot substantiate in his present defenseless condition you will have to answer to me." "Look here. Chalmers," returned the other: "neither you nor 1 are fools, and we both know something of the world. Now listen to me a minute. If George had bought stocks during the slump last fall (as I understand this story goes), when certificates were selling for alxmt the value of waste paper, and had got hold of more than he could carry, and ilild ('(illic I(> llli'miii niiiiif <i uiL-.m uicii.-iL of it, don't you suppose I would have helped liim out, even if he had been dipping into the bank's funds for the purpose? I wish to gracious somebody had had the sense to go in then, and to dr*g me and the bank after them. But we were all afraid?thought the bottom had dropped right out." The president ended with a sigh at the recollection of the lost opportunity; the sight of Chalmers' white face, pale and fixed as marble before him, recalled to him the subject in hand. "No, sir," he resumed, "that wasn't it at all. I don't want to hurt you, but J you might as well know the straight story now." He looked at his companion interrogatively, and the latter nodded to him to ! continue. "The thing had been going on for niree years, ana niigni nave gone an iur I as many more, or until the bank was ruined, if it had not been for one of these government bank examiners, who are always poking into other people's business. He saw that things were going wrong, and told me so first. Then we called George into my private room, and he owned up to the whole thing at once. You see, it had gone so far he couldn't hope to cover his tracks much i longer." "How do you know where the money went? What proof have you?" "Everybody knew that but ourselves; ! and we might have known it if we j hadn't been blind as bats. Ho had fur, nished a suite of rooms for this Leonie within a stone's throw of thebesthouses J on Euclid. They say she has everything there that money can buy. Our money, too, mind you," he added quickly. "And as for diamonds and other claptrap of | that sort, he gave her enough to set up I a shop." "Can you give me the exact amount of my brother's defalcation?" "Yes, sir. I can, of course. But I l would rather not. We specified certain matters, sufficient to insure conviction, in the indictment, but we didn't tell the public the whole story. We have per, sonally made good the entire loss to the i bank now. and we don't care to publish just how badly we were hit through our 1 own stupidity." "As you please," answered Chalmers. "I only asked in order that 1 might reimburse vou. 1 have instructed my bankers in New York to have sufficient funds ready, and if you will name the amount I will give a sight draft for it." "On my word," said the president, more kindly than he had last spoken, "1 appreciate your offer. Mr. Chalmers, and the motive that prompts it. I assure you I do. But we cannot accept your proposal. I presume you will endeavor to have your brother pardoned. Personally 1 would wish not to put a Btraw in your way, but I can't look upon this us a personal matter, and if we took this money, allowing you to square his I account?that is, so far iis money can ! square it?the next thing would be that some of our weak headed directors I would sign your petition, and so t.\v ! whole moral effect of the affair would ! bo lost; and?it may sound harsh, but 1 believe what I say?it will be better for the young man to let him serve out his term. If you get him out now he will likely go to the dogs, but if you let him stay until the end of his time he will be j sobered down by that." "You are sincere in that?" asked Chalmers. "Yon think it could do any j man good to spend ten years, ten of the best years of his life in such a place? | Aside from the necessity of punishing crime, you think that sort of punishment can have a salutary effect? Don't you know that prisons make criminals?" 1 Mr. Rodney would have been glad to : avoid further discussion of the subject, i but there was a quiet insistence in the | other's manner that forced him to answer. "Really. 1 don't know much .about it," ; he replied: "it's mostly theory with me, I as with the majority of people, I pre1 Bume. Maybe there is something in it that hardens a man." Chalmers' aggressiveness had vanished as quickly as it appeared. There was no reason why he should quarrel with this mau about his theories and beliefs, much reason perhaps why he should not do so for George's sake. There was really no reason, either, why he should doubt Mr. Rodney's statement as regarded George's affairs, fie reflected that since they had both reached manhood they had not known each other intimately. They had not been much together, nor confided much in each other as to the minutiae of their lives. So much as Chalmers had seen of his brother outwardly when they met, his life appeared circumspect, if perhaps a little less serious than might have been desired; and he was sufficiently versed in human nature to know that a man is seldom just what he appears to be upon the surface. During the morning he received sufficient confirmation of this to have convinced even a greater skeptic, but it did not serve to abate his zeal in his brother's behalf, but on the contrary rather intensified it. CHAPTER IV. '/ would forgive him everything." Mile. Leonie, the queen of the city's half world, had evolved into this sphere I from the obscurity of a small Ohio village solely by the force of some degree of physical beauty and a great degree j of audacity. As Laura Leonard she had been unknown except to the rustics ! of her village: as Mile. Leonie her name I was on men's lips as a wonderful siren. She blazed out in her firmament as a sudden flame, and men rather flattered themselves than otherwise that they should be scorched thereat. To be known as a habitue of her house served to give I one a certain standing among certain i circles. To be privileged to bring her a jewel, to send a statuette for the adorn* : inent of her rooms?for Leonie had dei veloped luxurious and expensive tastes that Laura Leonard could never have known?and to have her say, "Look! this is from my friend C ; is it not 1 fine?" was almost glory enough for some of the callow youth who worshiped at her shrine, for Leonie was exclusive. But this was not enough for George I Chalmers. At heart he was something of a Bohemian and he despised les convenances. When he had first met Leonie he had not only been enchanted by the bold and brilliant aspects of her I physical beauty, which time and the attrition -of city lifo only polished and made more perfect, but as well by the irresistible dash and go of her personality. She was neither dull nor course of mind, and knew how to retain as well as to attract the admiration of men. So, as their intimacy grew, young Chalmers cursed the puritanical sentiment that hedged them about, and strove by lavish generosity to make up to her in some measure for the loss of those things i that he could not do for her before the | world. j So far as his relations with Lina Tennant were concerned, of course this affair with Leonio would be over somo day, and he expected to settlo down finally into the substantial, matter of I fact citizen. Then he could not hope for a better wife than Lina would be, but he wished she had something more ! of Leonie's chic. Leonie did not mean to harm the j young fellow. She knew that ho spent i a great deal of money for her, but it did not occur to her to question its source. ! Perhaps it would have made no difference, anyway. Perhaps she would have let him go on just the same. But, again, ] perhaps she would not, for she really cared for him. In his treatment of hei he had been different from other men i rihe had known. He never seemed ashamed of her friendship. He seemed to recognize her right to a place in the i world, her right to the very place that | she held?if that was the one place to which she was best suited. Society had no right to prescribe her lines. How could the world know whether she would fit into any one of its dull, accusI tomed grooves? How can the world know that of any of us? He would Ii.ivp !>upn clad tn li-v? fewer lines him i self. Ogden Chalmers was probably no better and no worse than other men, and be had never preached a high standard of j morality for the guidance of others. He was content to take men and things as he found them. Yet he felt a strange repugnance when the necessity present, ed itself of going to this woman's house. Already he had associated her in his mind with George's downfall, and as the chief cause thereof; and as the cause ' likewise of the disgrace that had come I upon them all. Toward the woman herself he felt a dull anger, more because she had .crossed the clean, white path: way of Lina Tennant's lifo than for aught else. He expected to find her coarse and loud and probably insolent. Ho would i make his business brief and be done with her. "I don't think I shall detain you long," J he said at once when she came into the room where he waited. "I am Ogden Chalmers, and I have come to cnako you a plain statement and a proposal. My | brother is in prison and mainly througn you. (At this the woman demurred by a negative gesture and tried to speak. I but Chalmers stopped her.) It is my purpose to have him released, if it can be accomplished, as soon as possible, j but only upon one condition." At this the woman looked up curiously and be continued: "That condition is that there j ihall never Imj any chance of his meeting ?iou again. IF you consent to this 1 am willing to pay you well, more man you I could possibly make out of him," he added sneeringly. "And if I do not consent?" "Then I shall have to cease my efforts for his release." "You are very hard," she whimpered. "I care so much for him, and then I never to see him again." "Stop," said Chalmers. "I will not listen to such stuff. You cared for him , for the money you could get out of him. and I tell you that is at an end now." "You don't believe, then, that I could care for him disinterestedly as an honest [ woman would?say as Miss Tennant would?" Chalmers flushed indignantly at this use of Miss Tennant's name. 1 "We will not discuss that lady," he i said briefly. "You may not?1 will," said the worn I an defiantly. "1 have seen her; she is very beautiful. 1 grant you that; and i she thinks she cares for him. But she did not kuow how to keep him by her. and if she knew of me she would never ; forgive him. That is how she cares. But I would forgive him everything;" "I told you tliat 1 would not discuss that," said Chalmers. "I will make you a proposal. If you will go to Europe at once and stay there, you shall bo paid five thousand dollars every year. But if you ever come back, if you hold any intercourse with him, if you l?i him know whero you are, this shall stop j and at once. 1 want to make sure that he will never see you again. Do you consent?" There was perhaps a needless brutality | in Chalmers' words und manner, and I there was an angry gleam in her eyes as ! she answered; "You make very hard conditions, but I will do it for his sake." "Put it as you will," answered her companion coldly, "only so that you do it. It is settled, then?" Sho nodded at him by way of reply. I "Very well, then," he said, rising to I go. "My lawyer will call on you in the ! morning and complete all arrange| ments." From there Chalmers went at once to Lina Tennant's, feeling the while that it | was almost a crime to go from so unj clean a presence into the circle of her | pure life. She met him, and put out both her ; hands impulsively. He took them in his and held them just an instant, but long ; enough for the girl to become conscious | of the intensity of his clasp and for that ! consciousness to mirror itself in her I face. "I shall go to Columbus tonight," he said. "I came only to tell you that. 1 have done what I could today, but am afraid it is not much." j Then he told her what he had done. | That ho had seen Rodney and some other of the directors of the bank. That he had also conferred with George's attor| neys; had called upon some old and in fluential friends of his own and secured ! letters to the governor, which he should present in person tomorrow. Not very much, but Chalmers encouraged her to hope for the best. After he had finished this recital, dur ing which it required his utmost cau1 tion to avoid any reference to Leonie or to her part in George's trouble, he said to her: "Last night you told me that you were still ready to marry him. If 1 have I no success, and lie must remain there his full time, will you wait for him and marry him then?" It was a cruel question, but the girl did not flinch. "I will if he wishes it. I promised him that," she answered readily. "And you said last night," he con| tinued, "that you would do this because you knew he had not meant wrong. If he had been really wicked, a criminal at heart, would you then marry him?" "I don't see how we can know that ! any man is wicked at heart," said the j girl slowly. 'But if you mean, 'If he had done this from base or sordid I motives, if he had taken this money 1 meanly and used it for low purposes'? 1 if you mean that, I can answer you. 1 I could never marr> one who had willfully forfeited his claim to my respect. George has not done that." It was hard to keep his peace when she said that. With a word he could shatter every tie that bound her to him, that linked her future with the future oi this man who had proved himself so | unworthy of her; and if loosed from him and from this false idol that she had set up in her heart and endowed with every j manly and virtuous attribute (as women do endow all men whom they endow likewise with their love), would there 1 not in time be a chance for him to gain that which he had hoped for so long ago? He could .not help asking himself i these things, although never for a moment did it really occur to him that he might thus play his brother false, to the better accomplishment of his own ends; and if it had, and if he had done so, ! would it have profited him? Did any j woman ever learn to think kindly of the one who unmasked to her her own de lusioui" "We wiu <10 our ucsi. r?mu Chalmers, breaking the silence that had | fallen between them, "to put George speedily back in the world and among j men again, where I10 may have the chance to make a new place for himself." "Don't speak as if lie had lost his place in the world," answered Miss Tennant impatiently, "lie has made a singlo mistake. Many men make a ! dozen, do they not? And because they happen not to come to the surface, to the knowledge of the world, they do not j count. Oh, I do believe the world thinks it less of a crime to commit crime than to bo discovered in it!" "I am afraid you are getting worldly i wise," answered Chalmers. "There is | too much truth in what you say. isut if he is discovered, the inexorable fact remains that lie must go to the wall. A man takes his chances; George has taken his and lost." "No, you must not say that. You must not let him think it. I shall not. If he were here it should be just the same with us as it has been in the past. 1 would not let him see that I knew any difference." Ho did not say so to her, but Chalmers wondered if her courago would hold out, and if it did, and her pride sustained her to the end, would not the effort bo i so great that it would kill her love? I Doubtless she loved him well enough to j do this, but would she love him so well after it was done? Up to a certain point women like to suffer for their love; beyond that?? Under other circumstances he would have liked to pursue this metaphysical problem. TO UK CO NT I NT KD NKXT WKKK. TIRED OF POLITICS. The following statement is made by the Washington correspondent of the Charleston News and Courier : Representative Shell, of South Carolina, has announced to the people of i his State that he will not be a candidate for the governorship or accept another nomination for congress. The I announcement in itself is not startling, but the reasons assigned for his declaration are quite unique. Captain ; Shell does not hesitate to say that he 1 is thoroughly disgusted with politics nt mnlrrw hia nrp? UUU JiUlUIV.Ittil>7? ?? tiuv I" utw vw : ent attitude all the more strange is the fact that he was the originator, or is supposed to be, of the Tillman movement in South Carolina, which resulted | in the overthrowal of General Wade Hampton and the old line Democracy in the Palmetto State. Captain Shell was elected to the present congress as a Tillman Democrat, and is also re-elected to the 53d congress. He is a plain, straightfori ward man, with a conscience which appears to he somewhat different from that of average members of congress. He has been mentioned as the probable successor of Governor Tillman if the latter is successful in defeating Senator Butler for the senate. After serving through the next congress, Captain Shell says he proposes to retire permanently from politics. He is disappointed and is disgusted with national politics. During his brief exi perience in congress he has made an effort to study men and measures from a purely political standpoint, and the I result of his observations is not at all flattering to the lawmakers of the ITA <IA*V1 A A AAnorf ACQ O Gnf V.-UUI11IJ. Jit VUUIC iu tunSi VOV3 ?,IV. having promised the people he represents that he would endeavor to secure I for them such legislation as they desired, notably the free coinage of silver. He is convinced now that national legislation is moulded for the benefit of a comparative few as against the great majority of the people. He finds that it is almost impossible for him to redeem the promises he has made because of the peculiar rules of practice which prevail in congress. He is thoroughly disenchanted by his experience in national legislation'and | he proposes to return to his plantation and endeavor to keep clear of politics j in the future. | Living in Washington.?There is a general complaint again among members of congress about the high cost of j living at the capital, and a number of the old members have declined further service there largely on that account. ; Judge Forney, of Alabama, a long time friend and associate of Samuel J. i Randall, will not go back to Washing| ton at the next session simply because j he refused the renomination. Representative Peel, of Arkansas, the chairman of the committee on Indian affairs, an old, experienced member, has voluntarily retired. Mr. Blount, of Georgia, who has served in the house for twenty years and as chairman of the committee on foreign affairs, also declined a renomination. Mr. Lanbam, of Texas, and several other members will not be in the next house because they find that they are wearing their lives out in the public service without being able to accumulate anything for the support of their J families. Five thousand dollars a year will not pay the expenses in Washington of any member with a family who attempts to live as a member of congress is expected to do it here. There are a good many members who pay | more than that for house rent, while I there are senators who pay from $12,I 000 to $13,000 a session for mere living expenses at a hotel.?Philadelphia ' Press. j Stick to a Legitimate Business. ; Well directed energy and enterprise are the life of American progress, and safety lies in sticking to a legitimate business. No man?manufacturer, or trader or banker?has any moral right to be so energetic and enterprising as to take from his legitimate business tbe capital which it requires to meet ! an emergency. Apologies are sometimes made for firms that have failed, by recurring to the important experiments they have aided, and the unnumbered fields of enterprise where they have freelv scattered their money. We are told that individual losses sustained by those failures will be as nothing compared with the benefits conferred on the community by their liberality in contributing to every public work. There is little force in such reasoning. A man's reactions to a creditor is quite different from his relations to what is called the public. The demands of the one are definite, the claims of the other are just what the ambitions of the man may make them. The histories of honorable, successful business men unite to exalt the importance of sticking to a legimate business; and it is most instructive to see that in the greater portion.of the failures, the real cause of the disaster was the branching out beyond a legitimate business, in the taking hold of this and that tempting offer, and, for some great gain, venturing where they did not j|,n .i.i/l ortiiIf\ nnf fnivi. MJU? IIHJ ^1 WUIHI, UIIU t.v/w .v*v see the pitfall. Abolish thk Blinders.?The best handlers of all classes of horses arc condemning the blinds. Anything applied to obstruct the -sight injures the eyes. As to the influence of curbing or controling the horse i by hiding from him frightful objects, the blind has proven more disastrous in a general way than beneficial. If a horse passes some object not fully understood by him, and causing fright, the shutting off from view of this scarecrow by the blinds, only increases the fear?he doesn't know how soon this frightful object may pounce upon him. This condition of fear has caused many a person severe injuries by being kicked by the frightened animal approached from behind his blindfold. The moment you lay hand on the horse ho nearly jumps out of his hide, while if he could see that it was only the approach of a man he'd be perfectly reconciled. Any horse of ordinary sense 1 can soon be taught not to scare at flags, cars, covered wagons, umbrellas, etc., by letting him see them and understand them. The secret of educating a horse to be a safe river is not | to keep him ignorant of the character of everyday objects on the road. (Jive full power of all his souses; let j him see, hear and smell, if need be, to i satisfy his fears.?Live Stock Indicator.