A Day of Fate. Edward Payson Roe

is the vice of our age. I am out of the whirl, and can see it all the more clearly. Thee admits that thy city life was killing thee—I know it would kill me in a month."

      "I would like to have a chance to be killed by it," said Adah, with a sigh.

      "Thy absence would be fatal to some in the country," I heard Silas

       Jones remark, and with a look designed to be very reproachful.

      "Don't tell me that. Melissa Bunting would soon console thee."

      "Thee stands city life quite well, Emily," said Mrs. Yocomb.

      "Yes, better than I once did. I am learning how to live there and still enjoy a little of your quiet; but were it not for my long summers in the country I fear it would go hard with me also."

      "You have suggested my remedy," I said. "My business does not permit much chance for rest, unless it is taken resolutely; and, like many other sinners, I have great reforms in contemplation."

      "It must be a dreadful business that came so near killing you," Adah remarked, looking at me curiously. "What can it be?"

      Mrs. Yocomb glanced at her daughter reprovingly, but Miss Warren's eyes were dancing, and I saw she was enjoying my rather blank look immensely.

      T decided, however, that honesty and audacity would be my best allies, and at the same time I hoped to punish Adah a little through her curiosity.

      "I must admit that it is a dreadful business. Deeds of darkness occupy much of my time; and when good, honest men, like your father, are asleep, my brain, and hand are busiest. Now you see what a suspicious character your father and mother have harbored in their unquestioning hospitality."

      The young lady looked at me with a thoroughly perplexed and half alarmed expression.

      "My gracious!" she exclaimed. "What do you do?"

      "You do not look as if 'inclined to mercy,'" I replied. "Mr. Yocomb and Miss Warren believe in the terrors of the law, so I have decided to make a full confession to Mrs. Yocomb after supper. I think that I am one of the 'transgressors' that she could 'coax.'"

      After a momentary and puzzled glance at my laughing critic, Mrs. Yocomb said:

      "Emily Warren knows thy secret."

      "So you have told Emily Warren, but will not tell us," Adah complained, in a piqued tone and manner.

      "Indeed, you are mistaken. Miss Warren found me out by intuition. I am learning that there is no occasion to tell her things: she sees them."

      Mr. Yocomb's face wore a decidedly puzzled look, and contained also the suggestion of an apt guess.

      "Well," he said, "thee has shown the shrewdness of an editor, and a

       Yankee one at that."

      Miss Warren now laughed outright.

      "Thee thinks," he continued, "that if thee gets mother on thy side thee's safe. I guess I'll adopt a common editorial policy, and sit safely on the fence till I hear what mother says to thy confession."

      "Are you laughing at me?" I asked Miss Warren, with an injured air.

      "To think that one of your calling should have got into such a dilemma!" she said, in a low tone. "It's delicious!"

      "My cheeks may become bronzed, but never brazen, Miss Warren. My guilelessness should touch your sympathies."

      "Well," said Adah, with rather a spiteful look at Miss Warren, "I'm glad I've not got a prying disposition. I talked with you half the afternoon and did not find you out."

      Even Mrs. Yocomb laughed at this.

      "Now, Miss Warren," I said, turning to her with a triumphant look, "I hope you feel properly quenched."

      "Is there any record of your crime, or misfortune, or whatever it may be, in Miss Warren's newspaper?" asked Silas Jones, with a slight sneer.

      "Yes, sir, of both, if the truth must be told," I replied. "That is the way she found me out."

      This unexpected admission increased the perplexity all around, and also added to Miss Warren's merriment.

      "Where is the paper?" said Adah, quickly.

      At this peculiar proof of his daughter's indifference Mr. Yocomb fairly exploded with laughter. He seemingly shared his wife's confidence in Miss Warren to that degree that the young lady's knowledge of my business, combined with her manner, was a guarantee against anything seriously wrong. Moreover, the young girl's laugh was singularly contagious. Its spontaneity and heartiness were irresistible, and I feared that her singing would not be half so musical.

      "Richard Morton," said Mrs. Yocomb, rising, "if thee wishes to free thy mind, or conscience, or heart, I will now give thee an opportunity."

      "My fate is in your hands. If you send me back to my old life and work

       I will go at once."

      "Ah!" exclaimed Miss Warren, in mock gravity, "now there is a touch of tragedy in your words. Must we all hold our breaths till you return, absolved or condemned?"

      "And were I condemned would you breathe freely?"

      "Yes, indeed I would, if Mrs. Yocomb condemned you. But after my sense of justice was satisfied I might be moved to pity."

      "And you think I may become a pitiable object?"

      "You would be, indeed, if Mrs. Yocomb condemned you."

      "Lead on," I exclaimed, with a gesture of mock tragedy; "this is the hour of destiny."

CHAPTER VII

       Table of Contents

      A FRIEND

      "Richard Morton," said Mrs. Yocomb, as she sat down encouragingly near me in the low-studded parlor, "thee does not look into my eyes as if thee had a great burden on thy conscience."

      "I have a great fear in my heart," I said.

      "The two should go together," she remarked a little gravely; "and strength will be given thee to cast away both."

      The spirit of jesting left me at once, and I know that I looked into her kind motherly face very wistfully and appealingly. After a moment I asked:

      "Mrs. Yocomb, did you ever treat an utter stranger so kindly before?"

      "I think so," she said, with a smile. "Emily Warren came to us an entire stranger and we already love her very much."

      "I can understand that. Miss Warren is a genuine woman—one after your own heart. I was not long in finding that out. But I am a man of the world, and you must have noted the fact from the first."

      "Richard Morton, supposing thee is a sinner above all others in Galilee, where do I find a warrant for the 'I am better than thou' spirit?"

      She said these words so gently and sincerely that they touched my very soul, and I exclaimed:

      "If evil had been my choice a thousand years, you might me from it."

      She shook her head gravely as she said:

      "Thee doesn't understand. Weak is the arm of flesh."

      "But kindness and charity are omnipotent."

      "Yes, if thee turns to Omnipotence for them. But far be it from me to judge thee, Richard Morton. Because thee does not walk just where I am walking is no proof that thou art not a pilgrim."

      "I must tell you in all sincerity that I am not. My brain, heart, and soul have been absorbed by the world, and not by its best things either. Fifteen years ago, when scarcely more than a child, I was left alone in it. I have feared it inexpressibly, and with good reason. I have