224 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



August 



eJiilciish sacrmces were for the benefit of 

 some Indian scliool. Her castoflf toys were 

 sent to Hampton. Her Sunday school 

 class supijnrred an Indian there. Later 

 ehe attciuu'd all the meetings for the bene- 

 fit of the Indians, has been an active mem- 

 ber of the Diikotfi league and devoted all 

 her charitable energies — and a Boston girl 

 must have some outlet for philanthropy, 

 as imperatively as for her love of music, 

 books and a.-!; — to collecting funds and 

 packing barrels of clothing for the In- 

 dians. 



"As she stood by the altar it seemed the 

 culmination of a lifelong fad — an earnest 

 and religious one, if you will, but still 

 merely a fad — in which love bore a minor, 

 if not a doubtful, part. There was a delay 

 in getting to the carriage, and I waited. 

 No, not to throw rice, but — but to see 

 Helen once more. Captain Carter, Helen's 

 cousin — he was best man — closed the car- 

 riage door, with a gay goodby. He stood, 

 with uncovered head, in the fog and driz- 

 zle, and I saw the look upon his face." 



"Thej' say he has always been in love 

 with Helen." 



"It was not that. Insight gave fore- 

 sight, and on the pavement in Copley 

 square lie saw the future, somewhere on 

 the western plains." 



****** 



"You are tired, August?" 



Helen St. (riregory arose from the piano 

 —the one article of luxury she had permit- 

 ted herself — and leaning over the back of 

 her husband's chair played with his hair. 

 It bad been allowed to grow somewhat 

 long in the last few weeks. 



He had just returned from a visit to a 

 settlement, a few miles distant, consisting 

 of a few wretched, scattered huts. His 

 hand sought his throat and loosened the 

 stiff, clerical bands with an impatience 

 that seemed uncontrollable. 



"It is stifling here," he said. "The air 

 of a room n)akes me cough." 



"I will open the window." 



"Open both window^" 



"I cannot, "returned Helen, with some 

 surprise at his imperious tone. "The other 

 window is sealed hermetically with pa- 

 pier mache^ manufactured out of soaked 

 newspapers after Frank Carter's recipe." 



Her husband strode across the room, 

 and with one blow of his clinched fist he 

 broke away the lower part of the sash. 



"August! How could you — oh, your 

 hand is bleeding!" reproach changing to 

 commiseration. 



She caught up a web of soft linen upon 

 the work table. 



"It is nothing," said her husband, al- 

 most haughtily, drawing himself so quick- 

 ly away that the linen fell beneath his foot. 



Thja. iipxt monigpt JherQ wa^ ^n. exclama- 



tion from b ..!/, lor' it was 'Vlie surplice, 

 with the circle emblem of immortality em- 

 broidered upon its iroiU, that lay there, 

 bloodstained and traini)led. 



He sank- into the chair a'jaiu, and she, 

 who had leariK'd in the last few months 

 that there were times when it was best to 

 leave him undisturbed, silently closed the 

 shutters outside the broken window and 

 pinned closely over it the heavy curtains 

 of Mexican blankets. The room was both 

 sitting room and study. In the corner a 

 prie dieu, with ii threadbare cushion, tes- 

 tified to the length and frequency of his 

 devotions. 



Presently Helen looked anxiously up 

 from the altar cloth she was embroidering. 



"I wish you would not watch me in 

 that covert manner," said her husband, 

 with new irritability. 



He was tired. Her woman's heart chid 

 her after that moment of strange and 

 chilled misgiving. It was a long, cold 

 walk to the settlement, and the people 

 there were the most degraded of his pas- 

 toral charge. They consisted only of old 

 men, women and children. The you;ig 

 .men were out hunting, a euphemism for 

 having joined certain hostile tribes in the 

 northwest. 



"I have questioned lately, Helen," he 

 began presently, "whether I have not, aft- 

 er all, mistaken my vocation. The fire 

 has died out of my utterances; ray prayers 

 no longer ascend as on wings of light, but 

 fall crushingly back upon my heart. The 

 meaning has gone out of the Holy Scrip- 

 ture. Its words are as 'a tale told by an 

 idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying 

 nothing.' " 



She spoke gentle, reassuring words, and 

 the strange foreboding vanished from her 

 heart. 



Long after she had gone to bed he was 

 kneeling at the prie dieu. In the days 

 that followed she noticed that he was un- 

 usually silent; that the early services, the 

 prayers and fastings became more frequent, 

 the last so rigorous that she begged him 

 to have care lest his health suffer. 



"We are cctmmanded," he replied sol- 

 emnly, "to -crucify the old man and ut- 

 terly abolish the whole body of sin.' " 



He went about his work like a man in a 

 dream. The melancholy that had always 

 characterized him had become naoodiness, 

 a taciturnity that his wife learned was 

 best left unquestioned. His favorite sub- 

 jects of conversation had formerly related 

 to his work. Now he never alluded to it. 

 His texts had been chosen from the New 

 Testament, that upon which he had most 

 frequently dwelt being, "For their sakes I 

 sanctify myself, that they also may be 

 sanctified through the truth." Now his 

 lermons were drawn from the Old Testa- 



