The Foe in the Household

CHAPTER XVI.

A WEEK had passed since Dr. Detwiler had entered the preacher’s house, and when he went again the aspect of the place had changed to his eyes.

He found the family together. Mr. Holcombe had returned from a circuit, and the doctor had made sure of that fact before he crossed the stream. Detwiler had been in the habit of saying that another house like this of Preacher Holcombe’s was not to be found through the length and breadth of Swatara. Disorder, unrest, discord, falsehood he could bear the more patiently, because he knew of one house in which purity, truth, and love reigned. He could not overestimate the munitions of courage, strength, and hope he had drawn from this arsenal. But now as he came he felt more like retreating. He was afraid that he should make a discovery ; for the suspicion which had flashed upon him a week ago, while he talked with Edna, though many a time rebuked, dismissed, put down, still existed, and it was to convince himself that it had no right to exist that he now came.

Mr, Holcombe, happy man ! was home again after a fortnight of travel, preaching, praying, and exhortation, and now sat under his own vine, playing his flute, the girls on either side of him,—Rosa with her hymn-book, and Edna singing, but at the same time at work with her pencil, making a sketch of him ; while opposite sat Delia with a week’s mending before her, the picture of content. That bex of paints had made Edna so happy that in her inmost heart Mrs. Holcombe was glad.

There was a commotion when the doctor came, — welcome of looks and words ; and after a while the singing was resumed, because he said he had heard nothing but groans and complaints for a year at the very least.

He was sitting beside Rosa, opposite to Edna ; by degrees his eyes wandered from the book, and he closed them to listen; when he opened them again Edna had stopped her work for a moment, and was singing with all her soul. The turn of her head, the expression of her face, — why he had seen all that in Rolfe a hundred times. Perhaps his surprise, or some other emotion, became visible on his face ; glancing towards Delia, he heard something, —it almost seemed to him a voice ; it must have been a magnetic appeal, — asking, “ What are you thinking of?”

“ Something stranger than was ever thought of before,” he answered, as distinctly.

Delia became absorbed in her sewing, and did not look up again.

How happy the young folks were, displaying to the doctor the work they had done, and asking his opinion, and singing their songs ! They showed him how far they had gone in the geology which he had induced them to take up, telling them that the rocks and mountains about them would become as easy to read as any other book, if they would but master the language of the volume. And they showed him the specimens — the slate-stones covered with the impressions of beautiful ferns — they had collected from the materials thrown out of the old mine to which Mr. Boyd had turned his attention anew with such good results.

But at length all this was over, and the doctor walked out to the field back of the garden to bring a pitcher of water from the famous spring there.

It was quite dark, though starlight, and Delia followed him into the porch with a candle. It was a still evening, hardly a breath of air was stirring.

“Stand just there,” he said, “the light falls on the path exactly”; but as if in accordance with a wish, the light of the candle was just then extinguished.

“ No matter,” he said, “ I know the way; don't fear for the pitcher.”

But Delia drew a match across the floor, lighted the lantern, and followed him through the garden.

He now waited, though he could not possibly have missed his way. He had walked it hundreds of times, by daylight, moonlight, starlight, and through positive darkness. But he waited because he felt that Delia wished him to do so. She held the lantern low, and he filled the pitcher ; then they both stood still a moment. The doctor spoke first.

“ How is our girl getting on, Delia ?”

“ Well now, since she has work to her mind. Mr. Elsden was very kind to get that box for her.”

“Yes,” thought the doctor, “but there’s something back of that. What induced him to do it? He always has his motive.” “ Has she sent her stock to market yet ? ” he asked.

“The berries ? They are not ready yet. But she has told me that she did it for me. She would not let herself feel at home here. Think of that! She must pay her way ! ”

“ I rather like that,” said Detwiler ; “ it shows independence, and a consciousness of ability to make her way. I know nothing about her parentage ; she has very little of any Gell that ever I saw in her. She is more like my friend Rolfe, in her character and makeup, and she grows like him. Don't you think so ? ”

“ I do,” said Delia. There she hesitated. Then a sense of the relief it would be to know that Friend Holcombe’s dearest friend should understand all came upon her. “ She is like him. He was her father,” she said.

“ I ought to have known it before! Why didn’t you tell me?” exclaimed the doctor, half vexed, and, in spite of his suspicions, astonished beyond measure, at Delia’s statement.

“How could I tell you ? ”

“ Does Friend know it ? ”

“He does not. But I shall tell him yet. It grows more and more likely,” said Delia, gloomily.

“Was the child born in wedlock ? I am ashamed to ask it about Rolfe ; but so much depends on that, — everything ! ”

“ What everything ? She was. They kept the marriage secret; they had reasons, his were bound up in hers. They did evil that good might come, but, Michael, only evil came ! ”

“ But you know there was a fortune left that went begging for an heir! ”

“ I have counted every thread of this web. I have seen that it is I who must add poverty to that child’s portion. Homeless and poor for me ! How can. I bear it, Michael! I shall die under this burden.”

Detwiler stood dumb ; he had heard, as it were, a cry for life, for rescue, and was motionless.

“When I remember what he was to me,” said he, after a pause, which seemed long to both of them. He stopped suddenly and looked at Delia, and a strange sense of the loneliness and desolation which he seemed to see enveloping her made him shudder. He resumed with a heavy sigh, “ I think I can see what he must have been to this woman, Delia.”

“To me,” she said.

“ And I understand,” he continued, with difficulty suppressing a sob, — “I understand, Delia, how this could have happened. Your father was alive; your church obligations bound you.”

“ Make no excuse for me ! Do not say you understand it! My father was alive; my church obligations did bind me ; and I cheated him ; I lied to the people ! Friend Holcombe and his child are accursed in me. Michael! what is left for me ? ”

“Silence, Delia; that is left, — that heroic virtue.”

And there spoke the expediency of a good man.

“ O, that it were the silence of the grave! ”

“ Delia, do not belie all your past by such words. You know that you Could never meet more loving judges than you would find in your own house, if it could be shown that it were best they should know. You have earned the love of all these.”

“Earned it! What do you think it has been to live under that man’s eyes, and see his holy life, and know that he trusts and loves me ? ”

“ He loves you no more worthily than you love him. Remember how happy you have been able to make his life, how he leans on you, and how strong he feels for his work, because he has you by his side in it. I do not wonder that you chose as you did, when it came to disturbing the church or letting fortune go. The time to have spoken was — ”

He was uttering his thoughts as they arose. But recalling that morning in the dairy, when he had ventured to plead Friend Holcombe’s cause so boldly, and remembering how Delia had hesitated, he felt that it was not kind to remind her that she should have given him her confidence then. She understood his hesitation and said : “ I was a coward, and false. There was no going back after I had taken that step, except by owning that I had taken it. I tried to serve where I could not be accepted. My punishment is to love Friend Holcombe and to see myself undeserving of the confidence he gives me, and to hear the man who shares this secret with me persecuting the church because he judges all the brethren by me ! ”

“ Do you mean that Trost knows this ? Did he marry you ? ” asked the doctor, quickly, almost hopefully.

“ Yes.”

“ Then you have a witness ! ”

“No.”

“ You have a certificate, then? ”

“ I want none.”

“ You do want one, and must have one,” said the doctor. “ Get one of him, Delia. Make him write it. It may be of the greatest consequence to you. Don’t fail to do this. Circumstances may arise — ”

“ I will ask him for it,” said Delia quietly, interrupting him. “ Let us go back to the house.”

The doctor left Friend Holcombe’s garden with a pleasant jest, but as he rode towards Emerald he gave vent to an oath, which was evidence of anything but a happy state of mind. A shower of tears followed that lightning. “ She has lived, poor dear, with a sword over her head all these years ! ” he thought.

And so the words which had trembled for years on Delia’s lips were spoken at last ! She felt a calm strength, unknown before even to her, when she could say to herself of her husband’s friend, “ He knows it.” It was as if the honor of her family had now been intrusted to the doctor’s hands.

And that feeling the doctor shared to the uttermost. The honor of that house was in his hands, to be jealously guarded. There was something to be done which seemed to give a new importance to his life. Delia Holcombe must be preserved from the evil that would arise from the discovery of those facts which she had revealed to him. The service to which he felt himself bound would never find him wavering.

But all these years, while she had been walking in a vain show, Delia had believed that her secret was not hid from Detwiler. When she discovered that no such intelligent gaze had been upon her, that she had walked without human sympathy along that dark waste which to other eyes appeared a smooth, sun-lighted path, she shuddered.

It was now evident to her that no soul could ever comprehend what the vanished years had given her. She had culled from them, and borne along with her on her bosom, deadly nightshade, and its poisonous fragrance was exhaled only for herself.

He could never know,—no man, no woman could ever understand the awe with which she had watched Friend Holcombe, or with what bitter self-reproach she had received the evidences of his confiding love.

When Duty had spoken to her in her widowhood through Detwiler’s voice, she had listened at first with alarm, then with hope, then with indignation. Had she fallen so low that she could not see through this specious temptation? Was it thus that she would seek to retrieve herself? The righteous Lord had taken her husband away. She read that fact at least by the light she had. He had sorely visited her for the compromise she had made between filial love and her love for Edward Rolfe. He had indicated his will that she should not go out from among her father’s people. And when in his mercy he had shown her the work he had for her to do in the church, as its pastor’s wife, she had not been able to resist what she deemed to be his pleasure. That she should ever know a second love, that she should love Friend Holcombe, was not to be thought of. But behold ! Love came, kneeling softly at the door of her poor heart. Long he knocked, and patiently he waited ; when at last she opened the door, she dared not look upon the angel, but stood with downcast eyes. And he came blessing her ! he bound up her wounds; he poured oil upon them, not knowing what he did. He gave her wine to drink, and bread to eat. Still she was afraid. Shame, to be bound heart and spirit to this guileless life ! Misery, to have inspired a confidence, a devotion, which was the finest flowering of his nature ! False to the dead, she listened to this living voice, and found in it consolation and despair. And she asked herself, “ Was there ever burden so heavy to bear as I have made of life ? ”

Two summers ago it had seemed to her that an avenue was opening through which she might pass from her prison of existence. It was when Miss Sawyer was under their roof for summer recreation. It was the first time that Friend Holcombe had come within the sphere of a lady of fashion. Miss Sawyer was a handsome woman, cultivated in mind and manner, and a good talker. She had seen the world and could give a good account of it. The group that gathered around her during her evenings at Swatara was a charmed, a fascinated one. The preacher was not less fascinated than the children. Delia looked on. She compared this being with herself. She considered the manner of her speech, the substance thereof, the charm of her graceful acts, the grace of her slightest motion. Observing all, she felt a direful satisfaction. She could bear to know, she thought, that she had lost the heart which she never should have won. If Friend could think now with longing of a portion which was not for him, henceforth he and she stood upon one level. But how long could a satisfaction like that endure, after she clearly understood it ? No ! it was not possible that she should rejoice to see the light of heavenly love fading from his eyes, and another fire glowing in them. She began to pray, “ Save him, good Lord ! ” from such equality as this.

One day the doctor came and found her praying thus. She was not in her closet on her knees, she was in her garden at work. He had seen as he came around by the north road to the house that the preacher was sitting on the front steps with Miss Sawyer, and that the lady was either reading or talking with him. And what he had seen was much more than what he heard, for Delia did not disclose her thought to him. He stayed, however, long enough to discover her mood, and before another day had ended he said to Mr. Holcombe : “Delia has a walking fever. Any other woman almost would be in her bed. An excited state of the brain, that’s little short of insanity, keeps her out of it. Excuse me, but I think you had better banish Miss Sawyer.”

“Well, yes,” said Friend, “if you think Delia is really ill, we must not have her burdened by any unnecessary cares. Carson, or somebody around here, will be willing to take the young woman, if she cares to stay, no doubt.”

“ You are a good fellow,” said the doctor, with genuine admiration. “ I dare say you would never guess, if I didn't tell you, that Delia has been amusing herself by comparing her accomplishments with this young lady’s, and has n’t heen satisfied with the result. And she thinks you are probably as little satisfied.”

The preacher, on whose mind the doctor’s meaning slowly dawned, did not even smile at this statement.

“ I think you must be mistaken,” he said; but my dear wife must have fewer cares ; if she is ill, we must persuade her to go to bed, and be nursed.”

“You won’t do that while she has half a dozen patients whom she must visit daily; but get rid of Miss Sawyer.”

Mr. Holcombe did that very easily; and Delia would never forget the words of Friend, a few days after Miss Sawyer had left them, spoken as if he had read her inmost thought, and thereto responded.

“ My wife, do you know what I am often thinking when I think of you ? As the church is the bride of Christ, so are you my bride.”

And thus he had replied to that dreariest satisfaction ! The cursed equality did not exist between them. And she, on whose account Friend Holcombe would long regard himself with sorrowful condemnation, sat down as it were at his feet, and bathed them with her tears.

CHAPTER XVII.

IT was in these days of Delia’s troubled thought about Deacon Ent and Father Trost, that Bishop Heunsel died. He was an old man,—her father’s successor,— and his death had long been expected.

It seemed as if there could hardly be a question as to who must fill the place made vacant by his death. Delia had no doubt on whom the lot would fall; for who, of all preaching Mennonites, met the requirements so well: “ A bishop must be blameless, vigilant, sober, of good behavior, given to hospitality, apt to teach; not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre ; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous; one that ruleth well his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity(for if a man know not how to rule his own house, hose shall he take care of the church of God?) Not a novice, lest being lifted up with pride he fall into the condemnation of the davil. Moreover he must have a good report of them which are without; lest he fall into reproach, and the. snare of the des'ild

Yet there were other preachers in the district whose names were brought forward, whose qualifications were urged. There were some who had long entertained a secret doubt concerning Friend Holcombe ; they considered it very questionable service that he was rendering the church by keeping school in winter time, as had now for several years been his practice ; world’s wisdom was not the treasure which Mennonites desired for their children. And then, how did it happen that under his ministry such scandal was allowed as Trost was promulgating? It ought long ago to have been known what that old man meant in hurling his charges against their body as a set of hypocrites, whose doings would not bear a moment’s investigation.

But when a meeting had been called, and the people came together, and the books were distributed to the persons considered qualified to perform the duties of a bishop, the lot fell on Mr. Holcombe. In the hymn-book which he held was found the slip of paper which decided that the lot had fallen on him. The Lord’s pleasure thus made known, the people were unanimous in the expression of their satisfaction.

No man could have stood up in the congregation to give the pastoral blessing with fewer misgivings than Mr. Holcombe. No man could have witnessed with gentler smitings of conscience the evidences of satisfaction, which appeared on every side of him, that he should be bishop. Humbly, as became him, and yet with manly dignity, he received the honor and the burden. The seal was set to his ministry ; he was acknowledged a faithful servant.

Ahern and Eby. the two oldest men of the congregation, went home to dine with the new bishop on that memorable day. The names of these venerable men were associated with the settlement of Swatara and with the planting of the church. The event of the morning had unsealed the fountain of memory, and a stream poured forth. They talked to the bishop’s daughter, who was now the bishop’s wife, of her father, and were well pleased that the honorable mantle of her godly mother had fallen on her.

The happy girls garnished the dinner-table with flowers and leaves, for their high festival, and dressed themselves in their Sundaygowns; and Edna put a rose in her hair, and tied a grayribbon. around the head of Rosa, and wished it was bright blue, yet told her that no mistake now she was Sawyerish.

After dinner, when Ahern and Eby stood in the porch preparing to depart, Ahern said to Mr. Holcombe, in the slow way which became his not undignified presence: “Bishop, you have some dealings, or I should say some acquaintance, with Mr. Trost, — Father Trost, as they call him.”

“O yes, I know him,” answered Mr. Holcombe. “ He was a friend to Bishop Rose. Delia recollects him very well as he used to be in old times. You do, I suppose.”

“Yes, yes. I was thinking how he didn’t like Bishop Heunsel over well; but if he’s of your acquaint, perhaps he ’ll treat us hereafter a little fairer.”

“ The way he goes on is outrageous, sir,” said Mr. Eby, chewing his words and ejecting them with considerable force.

“ He is a violent speaker by nature,” said Ahern, and the increasing gentleness of his voice and manner seemed a rebuke of his more zealous brother. “ But now I’m thinking he ’ll be minded of Miss Dely’s feather, and just keep to his own side of the fence.”

“ We have certainly nothing to fear,” said Mr. Holcombe, looking around in the lofty way of conscious integrity, and answering so for all his people. “ We will just hope that he will soon be able to see with more charitable eyes.”

“ O how grand he is,” thought Delia, looking at him with wifely pride, “and to think what a word would do to him ! That he should be shamed through me !”

“I don’t know how you’re going to stop him, sir,” said Mr. Eby, speaking more mildly than before. “ Bein’ reviled we must not revile again ; but it does ’pear as if somebody oughter just speak out and ask him what he means. Long as I ’ve lived. Friend Hulcum, I’ve never knowed a preacher to charge such things agin us as he brings. Trucebreakers, deceivers of the very elec’, — that’s what he said agin us no longer back than last Sunday. He meant us. Everybody knowed it. Pretendin’ to hold ourselves up for patterns, and doin’ in secret what we would be hooted at for doin’ if it was known agin us. I declare, Mr. Hulcum, I thought my old blood had get cooled off considable before that, but it biled.”

“ Did you hear him say it, Mr. Eby? We must not trust too far to hearsay in such a matter.” Mr. Holcombe glanced at his wife as he spoke. She would not fail to grieve at the jeopardy in which Deacon Ent had placed himself. Father Trost had no doubt discovered that August had a divided heart, and was taking this rough method to end his courtship, one way or the other.

Any good woman, he perceived, must have been as much affected as Delia was to hear a charge like this brought against the Zion she loved.

“I did not hear it myself, sir,” Eby answered. “ But it’s the talk all about. Everybody knows it. Folks have got to runnin’ after him, and the more they run the worse he talks. They ’re always expectin’ to hear something worse I reckon. Bein’ a friend, Bishop Hulcum, could n't you bring him to reason, and make him explain ; for if there is any matter such as he declares afoot, we oughter know it.”

“just so. I will speak to Father Trost, brethren. I heard a rumor of the kind before, but there was n't anything I could take hold of. I will speak to Father Trost.”

“ I must speak to him, I see plainly,” he said afterwards to his wife. “ I can get nothing from August. He keeps out of my way, and gives me no opportunity to say a word.”

“ But if this is August’s business,” said Delia, and there she stopped.

“ I shall betray no man. But we must understand Mr. Trost. You said we should be ruined when I told you how the deacon was tempted. I do not fear that; but it is a tribulation to be held up to the scorn and the scoffing of the ungodly, as we are held up by him. I tried to think that the mischief was overstated; but Father Eby is right, and I will go directly to Trost, and discover, if I can, what he means.”

And because it was so evident that he would attend to this business at once, Delia deferred the walk she had proposed to herself, and the request which she had told the doctor she would make. Certainly the present was not a favorable time to go to Father Trost for her certificate.

The fact was unquestionable that ever since the death of Mr. Guildersleeve the preaching of Trost had assumed a more marked denunciatory tone. There was a force in his voice and manner, and a rude strength in his argument, which was felt to be searching as a scorching wind by the undisciplined and the weak of his congregation. The return of Guildersleeve to the Mennonite body, and his reception by the brethren, had excited his surprise. He had looked with confidence for the day when he should himself proclaim that old man as a brand saved by his hands from the burning. Instead, at the last. Friend Holcombe had been sent for to show the reprobate his way out of the world !

When Mary heard her grandfather preach that sermon which was now being talked about everywhere, she listened with the feeling that every word of it was addressed to herself; and he knew that she listened thus. But no manner or degree of emotion exhibited by her, or by any other, could have stopped him when once launched on that tide.

“ Tempted all round,” he had exclaimed on that occasion, “ what shall we do to save ourselves ? ” and having asked the question, he paused till every soul waited for his answer. “Well!” he cried, “there’s more than one ship stands with its door wide open and its cap’n ready to pick you up. But don't you believe there ‘s more than one ark bound for the top of Ararat. They ’ll deceive you, brethren! they ’ll secure your shipwreck, sisters ! I’ve knowed some,” — again he paused, and leaned against the rude desk, and looked around him till the terror of his searching glance was felt, — “I’ve knowed some as fair to look on as any one of you, sisters, who've lived a lie for years an’ years, and no prospect of a change, — O no, ’cause there’s no chance of their being found out! They’ll tell you, if anybody goes along with them, that they must live by the laws, or they ’ll have none of’em. They don't stand by what they say. I tell you, they break their laws and mend ’em agin, and it’s no business of ourn. O no ! it’s no business of ourn. But, brethren and sisters, we won’t put our girls in such tight places that they ’ll be running from us on the sly, forard and back, keeping up a fair show afore the world when they’ve lost their membership with us, if there’s any meaning in the regulations of the church. We won’t have our young men decoying others into what I ’ll call fiat ruin. For, if you get a character to shillyshallying and calling white black, and round about that way to suit themselves, ain’t it all over with that man or woman ? Do you want to have dealings with the like of them ? I don't call names, though ’t would be dreadful easy; but I ’ll just say, the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed.”

It was this passage of his sermon which was repeated from mouth to mouth with such comments as, “ That was a hard rap for the Mennonites,” “ He knows more than he tells,” “ It ’ll have to come out of him yet "; and so the people followed him, in increasing numbers, to hear what he would say next.

Mr. Holcombe saw Father Trost coming out of Mr. Elsden’s office one afternoon, not long after he had come to his determination to speak with him.

He stopped his horse, for he was driving Sorrel, and invited the old man to ride.

Trost looked as if he doubted the propriety of accepting the invitation, and at last answered gruffly that he did his travelling on foot nowadays. “ When you git to be as old as I am,” he said, “you ’ll be keerful of such temptations to laziness.”

“I think we shall have rain though, within half an hour,” said Friend.

“Well then, let it come. I’m not as afeared of a drop of water as you whiskey-drinkers are.” The old man laughed, and struck his strong staff on the ground with as much vehemence as he was wont to display in bringing down his fist to emphasize the gospel when he preached.

“It is a great thing to be built after your pattern, Father Trost. There is n’t such a promise of vigor in the young plants,” said Mr. Holcombe, perhaps not unconsciously approaching him at his weakest point.

“ I’ve got the start of my rheumatiz at last I think, — left it behind me in Arkansas,” returned the old man, well pleased that his iron frame should have this praise, though it did come from a Mennonite. “It was worth going out there to git red of.”

Trost’s voice had now such friendliness in it, that Mr. Holcombe felt that he might speak to him out of the fulness of his heart, directly; so he said: “ Brother, I wish you would get into this wagon and let me take you the way you are going. From all I hear, the folks around actually believe that there’s enmity between you and me. I think we would be doing our Master good service if we spent the day in driving about the country just to show them how unjust to us and to our cause such a suspicion is.”

“Now what do you mean?” asked Trost, answering the invitation to ride by leaning against the buggy seat. He was prepared for the bishop, and looked, in spite of his question, as if in no doubt as to his meaning.

“You and I haven’t any difficulty that Christian men should not have, Father Trost ? ”

“What do you mean by that?” repeated the old man.

“I mean,” said Friend Holcombe, still speaking patiently, though he now perceived the spirit with which Trost had replied to him, — “I mean that people are beginning to take up your preaching and interpret your sharp sayings against the ungodly, as if they were directed against us. They say you call our people covenant-breakers, — I don’t know what, — for I have tried to forget it. I thought they had misunderstood you, and made a particular application which you did not intend.”

“ I generally try to make myself understood, Hulcum,” said Trost, bringing his hand down heavily on the wagon seat, and closing his mouth after the words, as if he had uttered what would not be recalled, and, at the same time, looking at Mr. Holcombe as if he would have him understand that he could not deceive him, and it was best he should endeavor to do so no longer.

“If they did understand you then, and you have any charge to bring against us, am I not your brother in Christ? am I not at least trying to serve my Master ? You know we are not without the means of righting any wrong wrought in our body. We do not hesitate to purge any iniquity.”

“ But when it comes to cutting off the right hand, or plucking out the right eye, Hulcum, — that comes hard, does n’t it ? ”

The question was an insult as Trost proposed it, but Friend answered, quietly : “ The right band has been cut off, sir, before now, and the right eye plucked out. I trust the gracious Lord would not withhold the strength that would enable me to perform this service to him and to our church, as often as it might be required for the maintenance of our integrity as a Christian brotherhood.”

“ I am an old man,” said Father Trost, speaking with great deliberation, and looking up towards the gray sky from which a fine, cold mist was now falling fast. “But I haven’t lost my faculties. I don’t talk without knowing what I am saying. I reckoned you’d know as well as I could tell you what I meant. I give you to understand if I can teach my young people better gospil than they ’ll git out of your people’s living, I shall do it.”

“ But I tell you plainly that you are speaking in an unknown tongue to me,” said Mr. Holcombe.

“ So much the worse, then. I am not set to watch over your sheep, though. Good day, sir ” ; and with these words, Trost actually put an end to the conversation by walking back to Mr. Elsden’s office.

“Then I must see Ent. He is really bitter against us,” said Mr. Holcombe; and through the chilling mist he drove up the mountain road. But he did not succeed in finding the deacon, who had gone away from home to exhibit his stock at a cattle show, and might not return for several days. There was nothing further to be done in that direction, then, at present. But no lack of work elsewhere. To this work Mr. Holcombe directed his attention, thinking, meanwhile, how much more clearly Delia had foreseen the results of the deacon’s unfortunate attachment than he had done.

Going back into Mr. Elsden’s office, Father Trost said to the superintendent, “ He’s in a tight place.”

“ Holcombe ? was it he you were talking with ? ”

“ Yes. He thinks I’ve been a leetle severe on him.”

“ Surely, you have n’t anything against so good a man as he is ? ” said Mr. Elsden, looking a little amused, and somewhat surprised.

“No —no; nothing personal. But he don’t like to have his folks showed up.”

“ His family ? I thought there never was so perfect a woman as Mrs. Holcombe. And the girls, — surely you haven’t any quarrel with such pretty young things ! ”

“ I have n't any quarrel, sir, with any man living,” said Trost, who no doubt regarded himself as entitled to all the blessings, including those promised to peacemakers.

“ But what do you find against these harmless folks as a body, if that is what you mean ? ”

Mr. Elsden, of course, understood perfectly well the preacher’s meaning, and was merely curious to learn how well he could keep the secret of which he had himself become accidentally possessed.

“ I find their laws are like a sieve to some of ’em. They run right through them.”

“ Is that unexceptional course of conduct ? don't you find that most laws are as a sieve to the lawless, who yet have reasons for keeping up a show of obedience ?” asked Mr. Elsden.

“Not in high places. I shall speak my mind. He tried to git me to call names. I don’t call names, understand. Them the coat fits may put it on. I jest want ’em to know how they look outside to other folks.”

“ But why not tell Holcombe outright.— seems to me that would be fair, — and let him look after his young folks, if they are likely to run wild ? ”

“ His young folks ! good gracious ! He’d have to look nearer home than his young folks ! ” exclaimed Trost.

“You don’t mean to say that he understands what you have been saying, and would like to have you think he did not! ”

Mr. Trost drummed on the superintendent’s desk, nodded his head, looked wise, and said nothing. He would like to seem a great man in Mr. Elsden’s eyes.

“ I should n’t suppose there was a soul living could bring a charge against Mrs. Holcombe.”

“ Nobody has, sir, — nobody has. Nobody ’s going to,” said Trost, a little startled, and yet enjoying Mr. Elsden’s unconscious proximity to the fact.

“But you— Surely, Mr. Trost, it is n’t Mrs. Holcombe who has been playing fast and loose, as you say, with the church regulations ! surely you don’t mean that! ”

“ I call no names, sir, but I' m a preacher of the truth, and I 'll not lie by giving the right hand of fellowship to a parcel of deceivers. They ’ve been making Hulcum their bishop — ”

“ So I hear, and a right good selection it seemed to me.”

“ What would be gall to some, sir, if they was right-minded, is honey to others. Suppose, sir, there was things about this business of yourn which you would n’t have come to Mr. Boyd’s knowledge no how ; how would you feel to have him a heaping honors on you, — what you and he thought was honors, say, no matter how little other folks might vally ’em ? ”

As this was precisely the fact concerning the Elsden and Boyd relationship, Mr. Elsden was rather startled by the question ; but he recovered himself so quickly that even the lynx-eyed old man who was interrogating him did not perceive his emotion,

“I should say, the less of such honors the better all round,” said he.

“ So would any decent, honest man. Very well ; that’s all. This bids fair to be a nasty drizzle, but I ’ll be going. If you hear that I’ve been preaching pretty severe, you ’ll know I had my text with plenty of references handy.”

“ Yes, and that you can keep a secret, Mr. Trost,” said Mr. Elsden, accompanying the old man to the door.

The remark pleased him so much that, as he was about to step out, he looked back and said : “ P'r'aps you are such good friends with ’em down to Hulcum’s, you ’ll be thinking I’ve said too much about them.”

“You have said nothing,” answered Mr. Elsden. “ As to being such good friends, I know very little about them. One of my young men was showing me a little drawing done by the minister’s oldest daughter, and I got a few paints and pencils for her which seemed to please them ; I have been down once or twice since then ; that is about the extent of my acquaintance with them.”

“What d’ye think o’ that girl? Is she like anybody you ever saw before ?” asked Trost, leaning against the door, and looking at the superintendent, and speaking in a cautious voice.

“She looks like her mother,” said Mr. Elsdcn, with the utmost simplicity.

“ Who is her mother ? ” asked Trost, with a vulgar, quizzical, mysterious smile, not lost on this most upright gentleman who had excited it.

“Why, Mrs. Holcombe, of course.”

The old man laughed aloud.

“ You had better not say that in these regions,” said he. “No, sir! Edna is an adopted daughter. Living with ’em it’s going on about three year now, I expect.”

“ Do you tell me so ? ” said Elsden.

“ Do you tell me that you have lived right here and never heerd of that afore ? ” Mr. Trost now had doubts of Mr. Elsden, very decidedly. Mr. Elsden dismissed the doubts for him speedily by saying : “ I assure you I have known almost nothing of those people or their doings until within a few weeks, when, as I said before, one of my young men was speaking of this girl.”

“You made a wonderful hit then if you think she favors Dely Hulcum; I think so myself. Well, good morning.”

“ Call again, Father Trost,” said Mr. Elsden ; and he went back to his desk, saying to himself: “The old slanderer ! he has evidently pledged himself to keep that secret, yet it is oozing out of him in a way to make trouble for those people. I shall serve them in a different way from that.”

Taking from a pigeon-hole a roll of papers, he slipped off the red cord which held them together and spread them out before him. While he was thus engaged, John Edgar came in.

CHAPTER XVIII.

JOHN EDGAR'S visit was not expected at that hour, though, since his last visit, the superintendent would not have been surprised to see him at any time, night or day. Mr. Elsden had, however, only just now made his rounds, and had seen him busy in the shop ; and now he had his coat on, and looked as if he had stopped work. In fact, the terrible thirst which now and then took John to Emerald and hurled him into an excess out of which he came with remorse and self-loathing, was urging him to go down to the station and call on Mr. Max Boyd, — that young gentleman being now at work there, in the bank which his brother had established for his own accommodation in transacting business with his men and with the world beyond Swatara.

When Mr. Elsden came into the shop, John convicted himself of having attempted self-deception. There was no reason why he should call on Mr. Max Boyd, none why he should go to Emerald. Afraid to remain by himself, he hastily donned his coat and cap, and taking with him the drill upon which he had been secretly expending so much thought and time of late, be hurried away to the superintendent’s office. He would find out now what Mr. Elsden had meant when he began to talk about Edna’s parentage, and was interrupted.

“I was thinking of you,” said Mr. Elsden, understanding at a glance that John had his sufficient reason for seeking him, and glad that he had inspired him with confidence to come, if, indeed, his errand was other than a business one. “ Look here.” he continued, “ I found these drawings among some old papers. Perhaps Miss Edna would find them of service. They were made by a gentleman whom you never saw — ”

“ Rolfe,” said John, reading the name pencilled beneath the drawings. “ I have heard of him ; she lent me a book that belonged to him.”

“ Ah ! Miss Edna knows about him ? She will like these drawings all the more, then. There’s a variety, you see, from engines up — or down. That pine-tree looks as if it had stood for its portrait. Take them along with you. Tell her I found them among some old office papers.”

Mr. Elsden tied them up again, and pushed the roll towards John. “Well, what have you there ? Something for me ? ”

“Thai’s IT,” answered John, putting the roll in his pocket, and exhibiting the drill.

“And you're going to bore through the earth with it, eh ? Let me caution you, in the first place, though I believe I have said it before, keep your secret. It will he worth quite as much to you, if it’s worth anything, if you say nothing about it, but just experiment for a while. Have you tried it ?”

Edgar answered by producing a circular piece of rock, four inches in diameter, and five or six inches in length.

“ You drilled that out with the engine to back you ?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ That is an innocent-looking instrument to do such a thing. And you really think that, with an adequate degree of force, we could get to the bottom of the Pit Hole mystery?”

“ Yes, sir, and of Hook too. There ’s coal there, sir, by the ton.”

“ I have no doubt of it,” answered Mr. Elsden; “but, as I told Mr. Boyd, it will cost a fortune to mine it. We have no reason for regretting that we opened that Ridge gulf again.”

“No,” said John, “but it always seemed to me we went at Hook wrongend first. There’s more than one way of getting through a piece of woods.” John said this as though he rather doubted how it would be received : indeed, he had reason to doubt.

But Mr. Elsden was in the friendliest mood. “ I had some of the best judges here prospecting before we went to work,” said lie, desirous that John should understand. “ We proceeded according to advice. That’s all I know about it.”

But though Mr. Elsden spoke with perfect naturalness of voice and manner, it had cost him a great deal more than his year’s salary was worth to transfer the mining operations from Hook to the Ridge. He had been obliged to direct and compel a somewhat obstinate public opinion.

“ I felt that we were making a vault for Mr. Boyd’s money,” he said; “it would be safe there, to be sure, for nobody would ever be able to get at it again. Your drill will come into use in Hook, I believe. But take your time about that ; for the Ridge, according to all appearance, will keep us busy for twenty years to come.”

“ Twenty years is a long time, sir. I shall be getting on towards forty. They say, if a man has n’t made his fortune at that age, he may as well give it up.”

“ I am past forty,” answered Mr. Elsden. “ A fortune is a very slippery thing indeed. You may have it before you are forty, but how are you going to make sure of keeping it, unless you are willing to make a Jew of yourself and live in a nutshell, as no gentleman and no generous man could consent to do. I have seen three fortunes of my own washed overboard while I was busy looking after the interests of other people.”

“ I hope the next time, sir, you will look out for yourself.”

“ It would seem as if I must have learned how to do that by this time.” Mr. Elsden’s way of saying this emboldened John to make a remark which showed the superintendent how far he had succeeded in his endeavor to make the young man consider him a friend.

“ It never seemed to me, sir, that this was exactly the place for you, — such a rough set of men as we are to live amongst.” And much impressed was John by the answer he received : —

“ My business is to pay my debts before I die. If Swatara will help me to do that, I shall be grateful to Swatara.”

Thinking what it was for a fellow like him to have drawn an acknowledgment like that from a gentleman like Mr. Elsden, John exclaimed that it was a cursed thing to be poor.

“ Not at all,” said the superintendent. “ I have thought of you with a sort of envy since you have bestirred yourself and promised such good things.”

John’s eyes flashed. Then he suddenly recollected what his purpose had been an hour ago. — to go to Emerald and drink himself drunk! His face clouded with gloom, his eyes were cast down. “ I am a poor stick,” said he.

Mr. Elsden assured him that nothing could be more becoming in youth, nothing more beautiful, than humility.

“ I am honest, I know. I ’ll do what I can ; but you do not know all I have to struggle against, sir,” said John, almost crying. Mr. Elsden liked pluck, courage, daring, but he was patient with this tearful, self-depreciating mood. It seemed to show him that Edgar would be a less difficult coadjutor than he had supposed.

He had a strong tonic for him, and now administered it.

“ I have been thinking a good deal. John, about that young lady we take so much interest in,” he said, very cheerfully. “ I would not like to go out and say all I think about her to everybody I chanced to meet.”

John looked pleased ; he knew that Mr. Elsden referred, for one thing, to the admiration Edna had excited even in him ; but then, besides, there was that mystery which he had hinted at, that secret concealed from her to her hurt!

“ You are quite willing, sir, to tell me now all that you have been thinking about her ? ” said he.

“ Quite ; those events which came so unexpectedly to my knowledge made me suspect at once, as I still suspect, that she is actually the heir to a large property.”

“ I was going to ask you about that, sir,” said John.

“ I admire your self-control, that you have not followed me about like my shadow in order to find an opportunity for asking it. I am sure you would have been justifiable.”

More than he could express, it pleased John to be praised for self-control. He smiled.

“ What was the name, if you please,” said he.

Mr. Elsden hesitated.

“ I do not know that I am quite wise in telling you. Even dead men’s names must not be handled too freely ; but I have confidence in you, Edgar; the name was Rolfe.”

“ By thunder ! ” exclaimed John. “That is the name in those books and on those drawings.”

“ Exactly.”

“ They must know, then, about it at Holcombe’s ? ”

“It would seem as if they must.”

“ Do you suppose, sir, they are a party to — to —keeping her out of her rights ? ”

“ I hardly know what to suppose about it. Things have a queer look ; but there’s one thing, John, you must make up your mind to be cool about it, if you go into this investigation. It may be more difficult than either of us supposes. But I think you will see that without my suggestion. You certainly ought to be trusted to look after your own affairs.” Mr. Elsden was evidently apologizing for having offered his counsel.

“ Miss Edna was brought up from Hollandsburgh to old Annie Gell,”said John, reflecting. “ She has told me about it. Her mother died at Ancaster, I believe.”

“ It is no very difficult thing to carry a child from one place to another,” said Mr. Elsden. “There may have been good reasons for her being born there even though it was not her mother’s home. Rolfe, certainly, did not live down there.”

John sat silently thinking. Mr. Elsden broke in upon his meditation.

“ If I were you,” said he, “ I should consider my fortune made.”

“ Suppose I go to Mr. Holcombe, and ask him outright for the truth ! ” exclaimed John, looking up, and waiting encouragement to take that step at once.

“ I really suppose that you would gain nothing by it. I have reason to think he knows as little about this business as he seems to know. I think it not improbable, moreover, that Edna’s mother may be living yet. She may have married again. If she belonged to the poor Mennonites, and was persuaded into a secret marriage, it would perhaps have seemed impossible to her to acknowledge the relation after Rolfe’s sudden death. It is the most plausible theory I have been able to form from the facts under observation. But, as to your Edna’s being related to that old woman who took care of her, I don’t believe one word of it. I can say that without having seen her, and merely from observation of facts.”

“ What facts ? ” asked John, stupidly ; but Mr. Elsden expected him to ask.

“ Merely those before us, — that Edna is made quite in the fashion of a lady, and the rest.”

Then John was set upon a new consideration of that great fact, and the others were summarily dismissed, because of inferior importance, as “the rest.”

What were they ?

Merely that, on the death of Annie Gell, Edna, at the old woman’s request, had been brought by the doctor to Mr. Holcombe’s house, and there had been received as a daughter, and promised a home. Doctor Detwiler then might be able to throw some light on this business. John was thinking of the doctor, planning a talk with him, when Mr. Elsden said, briskly, intending to put an end to the interview : "Well, sir, you have your hands full. If you manage rightly with that drill, and all the rest, anybody might venture on a prophecy in regard to your future.”

“ I thank you, sir.”

“ I did not understand that your drill was so nearly completed,” continued the superintendent, in the same animated tone. “ I recommend the north side of Pit Hole, just above the gully towards the east, to your observations. I was down there lately, and I think I saw indications of ore. Perhaps I was mistaken, but that is our business, —yours and mine, I mean. We '1l not start any extra talk about Pit Hole ; it has made enough already.”

“ And a regular pit it was, was n’t it, sir, for the party you bought it of?”

“ I am afraid so. I took it off their hands, because there was n’t another man who would give a bid for it. If there should be iron, why, that is what was never asked for of Pit Hole.”

Mr. Elsden had not promised that it was a thing that never should be asked for, when he came forward to the relief of the ruined company, and took the mine off their hands at a price which would have seemed to decide its worthlessness. They had proved, as he said, that no coal was there ; and coal was the thing they wanted, or, at least, the thing they had looked for. If he had chosen to incur ridicule, and run the risk of finding nothing, that was his business. Five years had passed since he made his purchase. It was really a matter of indifference to him whether Edgar ever experimented with his drill among the rocks ; but he thought he saw that the time was not far distant when it would be safe to discover iron there, and therefore he invited him to make the discovery.

“ If you should find anything worth while,” said he, “ I would make you my partner. One of my greatest wants here is a young man I can trust.”

“ If there is anything to be found, sir, trust me to find it for you. Or, if there’s anything to be done, let me do it,” said John, with enthusiasm.

“ Very well,” returned the superintendent. “ There are two things, though, which, let me tell you, I have always admired in Mr. Boyd, —his confidence in himself, and his reticence. He never boasts ; but you see how he usually succeeds in hitting the thing he aims at. He startled people, going up so like a rocket, as they said ; they prophesied he would come down like a stick. He has n’t done it yet.”

“And never will!” said Edgar; for the man whom of all men he most admired was Christopher Boyd.

“ I will look about among those rocks the first thing to-morrow morning,” said he. “Nobody ever goes that way. If I find anything, you are the man I shall report to.”

“ If there’s anything forthcoming, you shall be my partner; hold me to that,” said Mr. Elsden.

And when an elderly gentleman says anything like that to a young man, a great deal is implied. The superintendent had probably discovered that he stood in need of John Edgar’s assistance.

When John left the office, he remembered his temptation of a few hours past with disgust and loathing. He had accepted every thought, every suggestion, that had fallen from the superintendent’s lips. Yes! for him he would search out the secrets of nature and of heritage. The rocks should be laid open, and he would discover Edna’s parentage.