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Show I ll The Salvation I kl of Daniel. A I i !w.irt.uth.trt.A"fiv;vCv.:vt.'v;u I .j-0 MS- '-"lAl'AUD was lu high I ( vv )( Kood feather; her bay maro I S JVI 8 lU,a fortl Iliul fl!tt;lli;,l one I V" r ""'"died ami thirty golden TfOW sovereigns between them. I Bloreover, she liuil only given eighty I guineas for the nunc Who will lie I astonished, therefore, that she found I tho news of her bargain iulte an y agreeable adjunct to her breakfast that & morning? r Mrs. Trapaud was a woman of tome humor; when her husband died she met a friend a man also of some bumor who knew as all tho world knew, and as .Mrs. Trepaud had never pretended to hide, that tho marriage had been tho reverse to happy. He looked nt hor weeds with it comprehending compre-hending smile. "fiot your divorce at last?' ho said. "Yes, nnd In tho higher courts, too," he replied. , Mrs. Trepaud was always equal to any occasion. t When Trepaud died his widow carried car-ried on the work of his life; she continued con-tinued to breed his horscR. Not so much, bo It understood, from nny I touching sympathy with the dear de parted as from a Found conviction that It was In her to make the thing pay. And she did. It was a strnngo household composed of antiquated serving men nnd women wo-men who had been begotten nnd born on W'c estate, and In whom the Inst expiring breath of feudalism lingered na though dying hard. Trepaud left no heir, and these farm and stable hands, these domestic serving maids, vers Mrs. Trepaud's children. She dosed nnd physicked them when they required It, she rubbed their backs when the rheumatism got Importunate; she scolded, she praised, rewarded and , blamed and they loved her. 4 But as In every household there Is one black sheep, so In this patriarchal family there was one strnngetlng. Dan. lei he bad no other name bad not ticen born and bred on the estate; bo had not even first seen light In the village; no, not within ten leagues of It the gossips said. Ho came from practically nowhere. It was so very far away. On winter night, when the evenings were long nnd dull, the younger ones for age was n mere matter mat-ter of comparison In the Thepaud household would eons old Mrs. 0!nod-heart 0!nod-heart to tell again the story of how Daniel first came to the hall. "It were n wild, bicak night. Jest slcli a one n this," tho old housekeeper housekeep-er would begin. "And the wind were bowling In the chlmbley, we knows," would Interpolate Interpo-late an Irresponsible voire. "Will ye nlver learn )o hnuld per tongue, then, and not Interrunt the story?" a chorus of voices would protest, pro-test, nnd then, Mrs. fJoodheart, hnvlng duly allowed herself to be nnnenscd, the story would drag out Its slow, familiar fa-miliar existence punctuated with "ohs" and "ahs" and "there nows" that had become wnctiued by custom Into n sort of rite, lint the reader who does not know what three hundred and sixty-five days snent on a midland horse , a farm situated n good twenty miles 1 g, from nnywbcre on the map can be like woull hardly appreciate the art with which Dnnlel's history was told, so wo will offer a brief and more modern unrto-date sketch that shall slate the plain matter In n nutshell. One Christmas eve n quarter nf n century ago the hospitable glare nf a fire that not only could roast an ox. but was actually dolpg so. attracted a little ragged follow, who was tramping along, tho high road In search of a night's lodging. Ono of the keepers found him lu the fir plantation and dragged him after him till they stood In the glare of the firelight before Thepaud, The-paud, his wife, and the assembled household. Questioned, the llttln fellow fel-low said his name was Daniel; he was a foundling and had been put out to service with n drunken carpenter, from whom he had run away. Ho had rot na far north as this In a barge along the cannls and had worked nt whatever came to his hand for all the food and lodging that charity had not Riven him. Trapaud liked tho lad's face nnd took htm lnlo his service. Ho was honest nnd Industrious, he had rls. en by slow degrees, and now for seven years he had been butler at the hall, Daniel took n pathetic pleasure lu hearing );Is own story recited; It made flj him feci ii kind nf hero; but there wns H always the ever-present nche at his H heart that he bought his proud posl- Bfejt (Ion at tho cost or love and fear. He ' H" wns never quite on'- of them, hut a BJ thing npnrt as n man who does not PI know his own surname must ever be. t H Mrs, Trnpnud was habitually careful about money, never leaving carelessly nbout nny sums, however small. Sho B never distrusted nny of her people, but B she knew the value of the axiom con-H con-H ternlng tho open door. On this partic ular morning, however, she rang the bell for breakfast to be cleared while the hundred and thirty sovereigns Wt-re still lying glistening lu tho sun upon tho table. Daniel answered tho summons as usual and begnn to clear nwny. As he did so his eye fell on tho money and he gave a little, quick, sharp gasp. Mrs. Trapnud heard It and turned to look nt him. "Yes," she said, "It's n lot of money, Isn't It. Daniel? One hundred nnd thlr-ty thlr-ty pounds. The bay mare nnd her foal fetched t." Daniel murmured some reply, and went on removing the breakfast things. Mrs. Trapnud rose, folded her napkin leisurely, and gathering up the gold pieces, crossed to the fireplace nnd put them In n tidy heap on the mantelpiece. Then she walked Into the conservatory that opened out nf tho room to see how her polntscttln wns coming on. Suddenly her pulses stopped nnd her heart stood still to listen. She heard n voice distinctly speaking lu a weird, mad whistler from the breakfast room behind. "Make a innn rich for life." It said, nnd repeated the phrase like n litany. She turned. Dnnlel was standing near the mantelpiece, mantel-piece, bis face white ns death, great drops of sweat standing nut upon his brow. His lingers twitched nervously, nervous-ly, bis eyeballs were painfully distended. distend-ed. Covctouncss. nvarlce. greed, were writ large nrtnn his countenance. He looked horrible. Instinctively Mr. Trapnud Tra-pnud shrank back among the greenery to watch. "Make a man rich for life!" ret'erat-ed ret'erat-ed Daniel with n curious sibilant sound. "Make a man rich for life-rich life-rich for life!" With one swift look In the direction nf the conservatory, he put out his hnnd. nnd with stealthy touch noiselessly took the gold. You could hnve heard a pin drop. Mrs. Trapnud stepped quickly forward. "Daniel, whnt rre you doing? Tut that money down." She ' spoko sharply peremptorily. Daniel turned. An ugly look came over his face; he was dangerous. "Put It down this minute." she snld. "Make a man rich for life," he muttered, mut-tered, backing to tho door. "Dnnlel. are you mad? Tut It down nt once. I say." She had re-entered the room now nnd her hnnd wns on the bell. With n quick movement Dnnlel reached out to the sideboard nnd seized a knife: In his other fist he still clutched the gold. "I see," she said, quietly. "Then we hnve been bousing a thief and n murderer mur-derer for flve-nnd-twenty years." The knife dropped from his hand. A violent trembling shoolc him In every limb, tho wild, weird look died out of his eyes, nnd he stood for n moment gazing dazedly at the money In his clenched palm. "Daniel, put It down." He crossed to tho mnntelplcce fis though In a dream and put the money back where he had found It In the snlrlt nf n little child. Then he stood there silent, his head bowed upon his breast. "It Is the first time I hnve ever known you drunk Daniel." said Mrs. "Trepaud. slowly. She laid great stress upon the word. "Do not ever let me see you drunk ntraln, or I will hnve to dismiss you. Now you may go." He turned nnd walked slowly to the door. He had bis back to her, but "he could see his shoulders heave. Presently Pres-ently he turned ngnln. his face still bowed unon his breast. "Hod bless 'ee. mlslross." he sntd. brokenlv and went out. Winifred Do-Inn, Do-Inn, In the Tnttjer. |