A Modern Instance

ltaneity of events in dreams the sense of all his blame, of which the blow given for a blow seemed the least part. He was not so wrong in that as he was wrong in

his tongue. "He died in a fit." He almost believed it as it murmured itself from his lips. There was no mark, no bruise, nothing to show that he had touched the boy. Suddenly he felt the lie choke him. He pulled down the window to let in the fresh air, and this pure breath of heaven blew into his darkened spirit and lifted there a little the vapors which were thickening in it. The horror of having to tell that lie, even if he should escape by it, all his life long, till he was a gray old man, and to keep the truth forever from his lips, presented itself to him as intolerable slavery. "Oh, my God!" he spoke aloud, "how can I bear that?" An

street, and enabled Bartley to get him up into his office, without publicity or explanation other than tha

e so mechanically from his tongue that he began to be

his happen? Te

tley delivered up the truth, as a prisoner of war-or a ca

id the doctor.

table, and the doctor, wetting his handkerchie

id Bartley. "I didn't even inte

do with physical effects," rep

and, muttering feebly, "M

ctor. "We had better get him home. Drive

street was really empty, as it often was in the middle of the forenoon at Equity. The apothecary, w

nting-office, where the farmers delivered his wood. "I thought we could get him out better that way," he explained, and

in her widowhood-bereft of all her children but this son-with sickness and death, to show even surprise, if she felt it. When Bartley broke out into his lamentable confession, "Oh, Mrs. Bird! this is my work!" she only wrung her hands and answered, "Your work! Oh, Mr. Hubbard, he thought the world of you!" and did not ask him how or why he had done it. After they had got Henry on the bed, Bartley was no

nce more, and looked round, while Bartley still sat with his face in his hands. "Where-wh

knees beside the bed. "Here, here! Here I am, Henry! Oh, Henry, I did

told him that he had fainted. After a time, he put out his hand and lai

id not spare himself; he had often found that strenuous self-condemnation moved others to compassion; and besides, it was his nature to

r that there seemed to be something t

ey. "I must have been crazy-I must have been in

mber it," ans

to Bartley, with such a significant look that the young man retired from the bedside, and stood aw

tay and watch with him,-I sha'n't eat or sleep till he's on foot again. And I can't leave till y

ways pretended to be so fond of him, and he thought the world of yo

ground. I loved him,-I thought the world of him, too. I'd ten thousand times rather h

tly say I forgive you just yet." Doubtless she was dealing conscientiously wit

Mrs. Bird is very unjust, Doctor. I've done everything I could, and said everything to explain the matter;

dryly, "she'll feel differently, a

r. "Get along! Why-why you think he

rely using her wor

l it? I thought it was very strange,

the brain." Bartley shuddered at the phrase, but he could not ask anything further. "What I wanted to say to you," continued the doctor, "was that this may be a long thing,

ou don'

as far as it goes. If you have thought it advisable to keep anythin

hat drunken old scoundrel of a Morrison got us into it. He accused me of making love to his daughter; and Henry was jealous-I

You can't keep it from having an ugly look if it gets out; and it may have to be ma

there," said Bartley

ement. The fact that he must now also see her father upon the legal aspect of his case certainly complicated the affair, and detracted from its heroic quality. He could not tell which to see first, for he naturally wished his action to look as well as possible; and if he went first to Marcia, and she condemned him, he did not know in what figure he should approach her father. If, on the other hand, he went first to Squire Gaylo

g around his neck. His burdened heart yearned upon her with a tenderness he had not known before; he realized the preciousness of an embrace that might be the last; but he dared not put down his lips to hers. She pushed back her head in a little wonder, and saw the haggardn

to make it all appear well. He did not speak at once, and Marcia pressed him into a chair, and then, like an eager child, who will not let its friend escape till it has been told what it wishes to know, she

k, but Marcia repeated in a

truck

to know why Henry Bird struck you, when you've made so m

at her father. "And

rcia, "and I should have despised you if you had

hand,-but he fell and struck his head on the floor. I'm afraid it hurt him pretty badly." He felt the pang th

een dusting, and sat down in a chair on the other side of the stove. He p

after seeing it with her father's eyes, or possibly, if her father viewed it favorably, have had

ment for answer, and did not move. He laughe

and from his shoulder, while her father worked his jaws upon the bit of stick he had picked up from the pile of wood, and

trouble! I told you so!" She stood clinching her hands, and her father bent his keen s

have her wages

N

rily assumed the attitude of a lawye

sed me of-He said I had-made

ia g

him think

been kind to the girl, and favored her all I could, because she see

he Squire. "And that m

the office, and came back, he called me a liar, and struck me in the face." He did not lift his eyes to

had made up to

N

se, now and then?" s

did no

told how much you thoug

to do with it," said Bart

ty girl," returned the Squire. He was silent awhile.

revived, and we got him home to his mother's. The doctor sa

sses of th

e alone in

one else

Mrs. Bird. Henry couldn

out Morrison, or what

thi

t's all

es

noring the girl, who stood apart from them, gray in the face as her d

kindly, "better go into the ho

, Bartley. Here's yours." She slipped it off her fin

implored, con

my ring

ck on the finger from which she had so fondly suffered

m round the neck, and pressed against his face, once, and twice, and thrice, her own gray face, in which all love, and unrelenting, and despair, were painted. Once and

mouth awhile before he added: "I guess she won't want to talk about you any more. I drew you out a little on that Hannah Morrison business, because I wanted her to understand just what kind of fellow you were. You see it isn't the trouble you've got into with Henry Bi

onor, there isn't any more of this thing than I've told yo

girl seems to like it? Yes, it is rather hard. And I suppose

se not!

o think they marry a man's whole life,-his past as well as his future,-and that makes 'em particular. And they distinguish between different kinds of men. You'll find 'em pinning their faith to a fellow who's been through pretty much everything, an

njust to me,"

bly turn round with some excuse about what she had suffered, and that would be the end of it. She would say that she

med Bartley. "I care al

ean to say that you didn't know till you asked

y was

girl. You didn't care! But Marcia did, you see. She wasn't one of the kind that let any good-looking fellow make love to them. It was because it was

to pull himself together for some sort of protest, but he ended by hanging his head in silence. He always believed that Squire Gaylord had liked him, and here he was treating him like his bitterest enemy, and seeming to enjoy his misery. He could not understand it; he thought it extremely unjust, and past

t last, rising from his chai

. "You're not going to leave me i

ame's been mixed up too much with my girl's, for me to let you come to shame openly, if I can help it.

shall I go?"

to your office, and go to work as if nothing had happened-till something does happen. I shall close the paper out as soon as I can. I was thinking of doing that just

ately, with, "Come, come! You must start some time." And Bartley dragged his leaden weight out of the door. The Squire closed it after him; but he did not accompany him dow