OCR Text |
Show 1 I 1 A i THE TRI-WEEKL- , were gatflerffig cffOttnut under a great tree. One was a boy of 14 and an 'other a girl of 12 years. The others were younger. The eldest girl held her apron by the corners, while, the youth emptied his hands of brown nuts iuto tt. John Frostberg rose from his kiarlet chair and opened the folding doors. Take the chill off the bed, he muttered, and resumed his seat. He fixed his eyes on the tiny .white flames.which crept from the bonk of coal on the grate.. Occasionally be. ran. his Jong, bony fingers through bis bristlelike hair, or ''pulled at the point of his chin, or ran bis hands down his cheeks in vain endeavor to smooth them. He threw his head back, resting it on the soft velvet plush, closed his eyes and laid his hands across them. Twenty-fiv- e years ago tonight yes, 25 years ago this very night, be said in slow, audible tones. "He sighed.'" ft waa more like a groan than a sigh. Twenty-fiv- e years, 25 years," ho k6pt repeating. His face grew longer. His lower jaw fell as if dislocated. In another instant be had sprung from his seat witla start, still muttering: Twenty-fiv- e His years tonight eyes wandered around the room until they fell on. the crayon of the children gathering chestnuts. He gazed for 'a moment then threw bis arnJ in front of his faoe, as though brushing something away, rubbed bis eyes and walked to the crayon. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped-tb- e glass which covered the picture. It is 82 years since that time 32 he kept repeatyears 32 years, 82 years. I wonder what ' being came of her, the kind hearted child, the cruel hearted woman. I gave her all the nuts I gathered, every wild flower I colled, every tinted leaf, and she gave me smiles and kisses. Had it only ended there But no! It had to go to the end. Twenty-fiv- e years ago tonight I gave her my heart and she scornfully threw the throbbing thing back to me threw it back with a laugh. In an instant it waa as worthless to me as it waa to her. All the fires save those which feed hate and revenge died ont of it, and in the bitter cold of that Christmas eve 25 years ago the worthless thing froze. It was a soft, tender heart 'when I offered it to her too ten der and too soft." Thfey used to' say that my heart was so tender that it made my head soft I guess that was true. It is not so now. It is hard enough now, and my head is hard too. .Soft hearts end soft heads go together' and bard hearts and hard heads go together. Thanks to you. Miss Fanny; I have a hard heart. Thanks to you, Miss Fanny, I have a hard head, a heart that does not throb with sympathy toward human suffering, a head that is thrifty, a head that makes tho most of the least, a head that is at home with bonds and stocks and mortgages and deeds. Aba! Thanks to you. Miss Fanny ! My heart, which you threw back, in its bitterness and suffering turned to stone and has given character fo tho head. Twenty-fiv- e years I have been gathering, gathering, gathering. He turned from the crayon and ran his long, bony fingers through his bristlelike hair. Withdrawing. them, he put his hands and indeed most of his long arms into his breeches pockets, drew his shoulders up and let his head sink until his neck was lost; Hit brows straightened, aud between them the skin fluted. The pinches in his cheeks and at the corners of bis eyes and mouth deepened until they looked like scars. He sank into the scarlet velvet chair With a'grin and n chuckle as he muttered: , Yes, I may thank you for all, Miss Fanny for the bonds, tbe slocks, the mortgages, tbe deeds and boards of moneyl Yes, for more for the pain, tbe anguish, tbe untold misery aud tbe utter isolation, be paused a few and then added, the desolation ofron I - The storm extended from Labrador to the gulf. The wind had been from the northeast and at points along tho coast had the speed and violence of a hurricane. The sea was in a potential fury and lashed the rocks as if determined upou pounding them to powder. Tha marshes and inlets were as turbulent as the migbty.ooean. The shipping was sheeted in icb, and. the wharfs and docks were hidden iu the eui brace of seething billows. The air was filled with cryttal snow, which struck with such force as to cut the flesh of the nn fortunates wbo.were compelled to face the storm. All ordinary traffic had ceased, and the great city seemed stricken as by plague. The gas lamps bad been horning for honrs, though the day was not yet spent. An bonr before sun-sthe wind. changed to the weft, the great sheet of angry clouds lost their texture, broke into flocks and skurrled to the east as though whipped by the demons of the storm. The cold increased iu intensity and the wind in force, while the dissipating clouds sifted delicate splinters of ice, filling the air with miniature poniards. Bitter, bitter! It is a bitter day! My eyes ache. That blast which Ftruck mo as I turned the corner of the street pierced me like a knife. There is a sting about my heart not a cold but u warm sting as though 'the bitter blast bad turned to steam. This was uttered by a man who had just quit the strect-A- s he soliloquized he drew off his gloves, and then his greatcoat, throwing them on a table standing in the center of the room ; took off a well worn ilk hat, and began rapidly running his long, bony fingers through his hair. It was iron gray, cut closo and stood on end," stiff, brufihlike. Turning his face to the grate of white hot coals, he gazed, for a moment, and then stepped closer. He was 6 feet high, but not erect. Ilia bead bent forward and his sbouldern were rounded and stooped. He was d and angular, with anna so long that they aeemod ont of proportion with his long, gaunt body. His face was thni of a man past middle age. It was pinch- -- i . et V i t r v i i.i.. i t raw-bone- It I ed. all-ov- er p: the month, pinched in the cheeks, pinch- ed everywhere, except over tho nose. There the skin was tight and. smooth,... and the oolor'of parchment. Little red veins coaid be plainly seen and seemed to be running over instead of under tho i . t , kin. The room was more than oftmfortablo it wds hot and close yet ho shiveied as though he were out in the stoma. Ho attempted to stand erect, stretched his neck and threw back his head, but did Dot succeed. After a few moments pause .he began to strike himself upon tho br&it, on the left sido the most. Perhaps he was striking at the sting of which he spoke. Again and again he track, then shrngged his shoulders, twitted his body in his clothes and increased the violence of the blows,, ns if knocking at a door he was impatient to have opened. Still shivering, he poshed a cushioned chair near tho grate and tank into it, as if exhausted. The room was laTge and cheerless, the paper dingy and 6moky, and in a Dumber of places torn and banging in laps from the wall, which showed cracks in zigzag lines. The window frames were twisted out of shape, yielding to the decayed walls, and the panes in the Bashes were dirty, a few broken and patched with paper. The house bad been a fashionable one before the city went up town, but its beauty bad goue with itf fashionable occupants, and it was now pleading with a hundred ragged tongues for repairs. Between the central front windows, incased in the wall, was a mirror reaching from ceiling to floor. The Jfarniturd was scant and poor except the chair into which he sank. That waa elegantly upholstered and looked easy and comfortable. The table on which be had thrown his gloves and greatcoat was of pine aud solid, litter- of my life. ed over with papers, pamphlets, used Again he sighed. It was quick and harp, as if pome breaking cord had envelopes and opened letters. A well smothered it. . His hands came from his worn carpet, blotched and spotted, covered the floor. There were two rooms pockets and fell nerveless on his knees. with folding doors. Tho front he used Sigh followed sigh in quick succession. as a night office and the rear as a bed- Tbe pinches in his cheeks and at the corners of his eyes and mouth grew room. The only occupants of the premises were John Frost berg, broker and smaller. ' The flutes were lessening beGeneral Money Dealer, and b is tween Hi. eyes'. His tong? bony Ungers and the wifeyff the latter. A dovetailed themselves with each other, ingle picture hung on the wall near and his head dropped forward until hit the entrance door. It was a chin rested or. his breast. poorly executed crayon, inclosed in a Oh, cruel, cruel woman! Water frame, which at one time no doubt protected a trickled from the corners of his eyes. two valuable work of art. Four cbil- - His rerji ration was Jour, and teasv. He seb-ond- a, man-erra- nt s. i 'V T JOURNAL, LOGAN, UTAH, DECEMBER 24 1898. Y rose from bis chair like an old 'man, and as he walked to the crayon his step was unsteady. He took ont his hand kerchief not to mb the glass as before, bet to ipe something from his eyes. It is fading. Line after line is disappearing, little by little, bat con atantly going. In a few more years all the outlines offigures will be gone. It libef t Irso. Would thafyofi were gone now. I cannot hide yon away, and would that all wereeffaoed. The Fanny of them and the Fanny of 25 years ago I " ' but tnree were IbfC, and ofld'ot' tfiose would soon be gone, as they were waiting a summons for her. Could he net remain until she departed? Then she and be would be alone, and they, too, would like to did under the old roof. They would feel at home dying there. Ha baL.I Jietcned-t- o sentences, - and - then demanded the amount of my mortgage. He did1' not possess the hundredth part of it. 'You must go, I said. 'I will have my mon ey.' He looked at me a moment, speech less, and then his head fell forward, was sure he was dead he grew ao ghastly pale. "Don't die tore. Go where you were born if you are to die. As you say, will be more homelike.' 'He raised his old head, as if assenting to my words. He appeared dazed, and I called to my man and said: 'Help him out! Help him out! I fear, sir, that he will die in tho street Help him out! Let him die where he pleases outside of my office As the door closed on the wretch touched myself on the breast and said .Stone . here,, stone here ; yes, thanks to you, Miss Fanny, stone here.' He turned from the crayon and san.2 into the scarlet chair, stretched out his legs and let his arms fall at his side. The pinches Cad grown deeper mid coarser, and the skin between his eyes , hit-brok- en . 1 1 was heavily fluted. Ue took . a handkerchief from hit poihet and u ijjiJ the Qian. were not the same, you, but none for her. I sent her out of my heart with a bound that Christmas eve. She crept back, but I would not let her stay. She calne for admission at odd times. At night, when I was aching for sleep; in the morning when I awoke ; when in sickness, and always when in darkness and alone, she has knocked for admittance, but I have bad but one answer,-'N-o room. All the avenues to my hfart are closed against her. Trifling, perfidious woman Ihatohcr! You were innocent, pure, geutle, trustful and truthful. You had not learned of the world. The clover blossoms, the wild flowers and myself were your loves. You were artless, sincere, innoceut and sweet as the birds which saug in the branches of the elms and tbe chestnuts. And I bad no thonghtwhich was not for you or of you. My boyish fancy sent out fehips on every sea, laden for you, and in from brought ships every port, each freighted for yon. The future was a panorama which passed before me, with you in every scene. On the evening cf your departure you wept yourself to aleep in my arms, and I dried your tears with my hot lips. You went, and I was in despair. There was no longer musio in the song bf the birds, nor beauty and ragrance in flowers. She for whom they sang and for whom they bloomed could not bear or see tbem, and the melody of the one and the beauty and the fragrance of the other were goue. I still .remember the weary years of her absence, and still fresher is tbe recollection of my visit to her. You, the girl, was lost, and she, tbe woman, was in your stead. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, then blushed and turned away as though she had committed a shameful act. As I met her day after day I felt that she had drifted I knew not where, but from me. I should have returned to my home and left her to the world with which she was in love, but I could not I loved her as I did you when I filled your apron with chestnuts or waded for tbe buttercup and the oowBlip or climbed the rock for the wild honeysuckle; loved her as I did you when-- freighted all ships for you. 1 felt that I oould not live without her, and therefore had to tell the story. The fatal evening came.I caiThear her laugh of derision even now. For years it rang in my ears, and in my heart too. It was like the laugh of a maniac. It came near making one of me. Had I not cast her out I should have gone' to the madhouse. The fire left my heart and took possession of my brain, and for days sud weeks I was all flame. The love I had for you turned to hate for her, and tonight for you there ia love; for her, nothing but hate fierce, consuming hate. 'When my love for her took wing love for all but myself went with it. I have revenged myself on. tbe world, which stole her from home. 'Dead to human suffering, I will oontinue to wring sighs and groans and tears and blood from them. Today I chuckled when that old man wept He cried like a babe that is drowning itself in tears. His words rounded like sighs hot from his heart. He had been born in tbe house, and all his long years had lived pnder its roof. There had been births and deaths in it for 70 years. Babes had come and gone. Tho wg 11s had echoed to the laughter of children and to the musio of marriage hells They had beard the lamentations of tbe lirls&ovet tbe loved dead, and now 1 John Frostberg, you are a success, he soliloquized. Your touch Is tho philosophers stone. Streams of gold start at your biddiog. Men court you and fear you, flatter you to your face aud deride you behind your back. Why should any man court me? A11 the flattery and sycophancy that con be prao ticed would not affect me to tbe granting of the slightest favor or accommodation. I have no transactions save to' my own advantage. One aim controls all my actions gold ; yellow, bright, precions gold, sought by tbe myriad but found by the few. I am of the few. For more than 20 years it has come to me in an unbroken flood, increasing in volume with each day in each year. The first stroke of my pick threw up a nugget. Three months after that fatal Christmas night 25 years ago, wherein I moodily discussed if it were not better to cast myself into the sea, landed me on the Pacifio coast. I was soon among the outgoing crowd, seeking the mines. I made no friends, entered into no allianoes; just joined the crowd aud bustled cu, I knew not where. I was soon known as tbe silent man. I hated my fellows ns I hated everything but gold. No partnerships were offered ms; no proposition of joint labor. I waa eft alone to myself and in my heart I was glad. The first stroke of my pick threw up a nugget. I looked around to sea if any one were near before reaching or tbe glittering lump. They had avoided roe. I was alone. There was no sound of pick or shovel or voice, no At that song of bird or bum of insect moment I felt that I Was tbe only liv-n- g thing. As I gazed on the metal, glittering in the sun's rays, thoughts of home, of mother and of her came to me, and for tho iustunt I forgot the precious ore. Thoughts of 'her!' Yes of Fanny I was under tbe chestnuts and elms agaiu. In my heart I beard ier sweet voice and saw her still sweeter face. One of my ships had come into port. It was freighted for 'her.' Sho had crept back into my heart aud whs whispering, 'For me, forme.' 'No, not for you, put for myself, myself, I answered. 'You aro cast out, and in your 1 1 ing for the tongs, began to teed too grate from the large scuttle. Little blue flames commenced to creep through the' fresh coal, and as they struggled John Frostberg with the poker opened ways for the fiery tongnea-dhroug- h the black ' Ikpile. Little red flames took the place of the tiny blue ones; and soon the whole-m- ass was ablaze- ,- The eold chills were" gone,, and John Frostberg yawned. WithouCrisingp he pushed the scarlet chair farther from tbe grate and then looked aronnd the room, apprehensive that some one had entered without his jiotice. Satisfied that he was alone, he carefully loosened one'of the studa in hlf shirt front, paused, and thenmadeT ' effort toreadjust it His chin lasted on his breast for several minutes, whilst be gazed intently at the mass of burning coals, apparently without really looking at it. -- He loosened another stud, working very slowly. The pinches on his face were softening; the hard, close lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth were losing their distinctness. The flutes between his brows had entirely disappeared ; the long, bony fingers of his right hand crept into the opening in his shirt front and rested. They were drawn out, only to creep slowly back. There waa a motion . as if feeling for something. The hand came out.' It was ' not open, as when it entered, but tightly closed. His.eVes turned from the ' burning coals anf&ested on the closed hand, when it gradually opened, and in it- - lay a small miniature. The piuches were fast disappearing. The hard expression had gone, and his face looked like a new one. Ten years of life had been wiped out of it He raised tbe pic- ture to his lips and kissed Again and again he kissed it r.HIa eyes closed and tears started from tbem. Apt hey touched the pinches, which still lingered at, their corners, they washed them out. They ran down his cheeks and smoothed them. They touched the pinches at the corners of his mouth, aud they disappeared. All tbe pinches were gone, washed out by the waters that flow from the eyes, but have their birth in the hearts It was no longer the fuce of John Frostberg. Love and light, pity and charity, hope and fear, had driven away greed, avarice, revenge and hate. His hand opened and. the face of the miniature was exposed. It waa that of tbe girl under the chestnut tree aa-- . tured by years. Girlhood had given way to womanhood. Again it went to his lips, where he held it, kissing it -- int it -- , -- passionately. gave it to me the morning after arrival in the city. AsI kissed h my in her presence she laughed and said it was a cold thing to kiss, that its cheeks could not burn nor its "Ups be warm and generoua. O Godl That she bud not learned of the world and I had not learned of her I The bitter, bitter end came. She was lost, and I was a For.25 years I have been living dead. All whom I loved are gone. The earth has opened and closed over them forever. Would that I were in tbe narrow house with those who are dear to me. I have never inquired for her. No one knew my passion bnt she, no one save her the cruel blow which drove me from home' and friends aud made me a stranger on tbe earth. Where is she? In the grave with tbe others I loved? What if she still lives? What if she is anothers? Why did I return to this soulless ciiy which I had forsworn' She is dead, else I should have seen her heard of her beanty, would have seeu it in some childs sweet face ou the citv streets. No, ms she is dead. I couM not have moved through the throngs tor . five years and not heard of her if She is dead. It is better that sho is in her grave. There I can forgive her. Living, ! would hate her. Ho looked at the miuiature intently, raised it to his lips aud pressed it there, as if it were a living thing. His head fell back on the scarlet plush. The mass of coal waa alUgnited. and . the chim- - v wan-dere- r. cL-tir- o . liv-ng- noy.was singing. ia baritone.-Joh- n. Frostberg was back at tbe homestead. He was romping with a fair haired gir over the meadows and through the stubble and resting under the chestnuts and tbe elms. He was platting wild flowers in her golden tresses in the early springtime, stringing ruby red cherries around her peck. for coralia .the sum- tuer sunshine or gathering .brown nuta for her in tbe misty autumn days. Memory was throwing all her early day treasures into the lap of the pres- ent , - t -- y - Coma in, he said in response to a ' rap at the door. The door opened without noise and closed as quietly. John frostberg did Dot rise or even turn his beaL.i,. Well, Madison, what is your wish? This is Christmas eve.' I suppose you expect a present, or a leave of absence. You will get neither. I have no gift for you and will n,eed you tomorrow. I hate thl custom of gift giving, and I never You have been with me Indulge Iu long enough to .know my disposition iu this particular. . You need not greet me in tbe morning with Merry Christmas. I do not wish one. I have not for years, and never will. I have not had one for 25 years, and never expect one. Christ-- "Help him nut? stead are greed, avarice, revenge and hate.. I snatched the glittering lump, and as I hid it from sight I muttered, 'For myself.' My streugtb grew with success, aud every stroke of' the pick rolled the metal to my feet. It eame in little tiny scales, and then again in strangely shaped lumps, as though they had their birth in fire. I gathered the yellow particles and thrust them deep into my pockets as I muttered, For my- self." , CHAPTER IL He jtqpped hls.poliloacr. and- - reach it mas is to me worse than an ordinary day The law makes it a holiday, and I hate holIdat. JThevatara1t4. ! . b 1 |