DOING BETTER.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4454, 6 November 1885, Page 4

DOING BETTER.

Br E. F. Koe. (Continued.) His downcast look nnd silence arrested tho glad youth's attention, und ho stnrod for a moment at the conscience-stricken farmer. " What is it ?" guspod Stein; "is Annotto sick?" Thero was such a depth of feeling and anxioty in tho tono that tho father's sluggish soul was pierced with tho truth. " God!" ho cried. "It is worso—worse than if sho was dead. She's married." Thero ho stopped. Ho had meant to soiten tho blow with many words ; ho had teen conning over smooth phrases all tho •way, and now ho had blurred out tho truth just as it appeared to him under tho wronged lovor's oyes. For a timo tho two stared at each other as if appalled at Vhat was botween them. Then tho farmer began in hesitating and trembling tones: " I s'pose we must mako tho best of a bad bargain. Mackriu said he'd give you the mouoy—" "Did you consent to this?" growled Stein like a woundod lion, his lingers working convulsively. " Well, I can't say—l don't know. They kind o' drew mo "into it," tho farmer faltered, backing away. " Old man," said Stein, briefly, " getout of these woods quick. You ain't safe hero," nnd tho fanner obeyed tho hint with trembling alacrity. Stein tottered back into tho cabin, sunk into a chair, and stared at tho iloor with wido, glaring oyes. Tho day declined, night came on, deepened into midnight, and lightened into day again, but ho did not movo a musclo.

Tho friendly backwoodsman found him in thi3 attitude, spoko to him, shook him, boforo there was a change or sign of recognition. Thon tho stricken man drew nnd guvo out such a long, deep breath thut it seemed as if his soul was departing. " Stein, man, don't act this way all along of a light jado as uin't wuth yer finger." cried his friend. " How long yer sat horo liko a stater r* '

" sinco he camo," hoarsely answered Stein

"Thunder! A hull day! and the gal ain't wuth a crookod stick o 1 soft timber. Now look a here, you a mo's churns. I'm going to stand by yer and I'm not going outer this cabin till yor take vitols and shako yerself liko a man." " Tell me about it, Jim."

"Surtuin. I'll tell you tho hull pisen business and make yer mad, and if yer say ao we'll suiiko that ero Maokrin outon these diggins as we would a saw-log." Jim's characteristic ministrations were apparently successful. Stein did shake oil his parulyms, ate, drank, and walked all over his place, but a deep, gloomy purposo was settling in his eyes. "Now what yer goin' ter do, Sloinf Jim asked, as tho sun was again low in tho west. "Who owns that tract north of this, Jim P" " Ebcn Jones." " Will you help mo buy it ?" " I will, and there's my hand. Hanged if I sees yer drift, though." " Fix tho trade for mo. I'll pay for it if given time. Now go back to the village and say I'm quiet and peaceable nnd won't hurt anybody, but buy that tract just to tho north of this in your own name." " But I'll give yer papers, Stein. Yer shan't work agin with nothin' ter show for it."

Jim's story was received in tho villago first with surprise, then with a satirical grin, but at last people concluded that Wteia Wolden was a sensible fellow, who was not going to make bad matters worse by vengeance and breakiug laws on account of a fickle girl. Tho impression was given that he would enter into tho lumbering business as Jim's partner. It was regarded as strange, however, that Stein would not take a penny from Mackrin. This was thought to bo an odd way of taking rovengo. In genial Ma/ Mackrin drove out with his brido to view their homo. The door of tho cabin was nailed up, and deep into a panel was cut tho word " Fatso." "Bah .'"said Mackrin, contemptuously, "a little putty and paint will mend that. Over this spiteful expression of an envious fellow wo might put the Word 'sensible.' "

J3ut forAuuotto tho word "fulso"\vas on her door. Sho was already learning that if sho had nut shown much heart or principle nho hud v conscience. Within a fow days they took possession und begun their household 1 ifc>. Men came from tho village, and tho small stable which Stoiu hud built was enlarged, and sued was put into tho cleared land, but Annette's eheoks grow pale. Everything without, and especially all within, reinindod her of tho wronged man. Whichever way her eyes turned they encountered an accusing object. After all, what did she practically possess but what Stein would have given her as his right as well as her own t Now sho felt that all was stolen. She could never outer her door, never oven look tit it without seeing tho word " False."

Her husband's manner added to her sense of humiliation and disquietude liv was kind enough in his war, but it was a cold, busincss-liko way. Sho had made her birgain and must abido by it. His cool, oif-handed deportment told her a hundred times that sho had sold herself, but tho equivalent no longer seemed what her own and her mother's fancy had painted it. In tho solemn forest, with tho pinus perpetually sighing , , as it were, for the lovo of home and truth that might huvo been, she entered on that saddest phitHC of life, useless, hopeless, yet inevitable regret.

Tho place begun to grow hateful to her and sho never lost an opportunity to ride a way with her husband, but lie soon checked this tendency with the assurance that some one must remain to euro for tho place. Thou blio wished to visit her mother who revive her old philosophy of life, but ho scouted tho idea of living ulono and cooking for himself, thus reminding her of ono who had lived alono so long for her sake. Her prido led to tho utmost effort to appear cheerful. Sho succeeded only in forced, spasmodic gravity. Thoro was ono who somotiines heard her laughter, and his look of gloomy purpose grew darker. Meanwhilo her husband was too preoccupied and indifferent to notu any changes. Indeed sho gradually obtained tho impression that ho would not caro much if sho died, for then the entire property would bo hit*.

As a boarder ia her father's houso ho had appeared very talkative and sociable; now Lo was equally capable of long silenccn, his mind dwelling on his plans i'or lumbering during the coming fall and winter.

Sho grow inoro and more lonely. Her futher rarely came to sco her, for he had a horror of the place and a morbid fear of tho woods. Ho would never tell what passed between himself und Stein, but sho hud not forgotten tho expression of his faeo when ho returned, nor had she failed to noto how fast ho was growing haggard and grey. Her mother grumbled over it all, and now her refrain was, " People do so luck common sense!"

One morning early in August thcro was the sound of an uxo h little to the north of tho cabin, and it had a strong familiar echo. Mackrin said:

" I will go and sco who our near neighbor is, also that ho is not trespassing." Ho soon returned with a white and somewhat frightened face and said angrily, "It's that cursed Weldon. 110 says ho owns tho tract north of this. I offered to pay and nuiko up with him, and to givo employment, for he has been working on farms a few miles away, but lie ordered mo oft' his claim. lie showed mo v blazed lino of trees and told mo to cross it again at my peril. Good heaveu.s! What makes you bo white and faint i If i can't cross his line, ho can't cross mine. That's a game two can play at."

Something in Stein's words and manner prevented further overtures on the part of Mackriu, but as tho uxo to the north wwung steadily day after day, he, too, was evidently ill at oaso. Now, when ho went away, he took his wifo with him. By sotno tacit understanding they never spoke of their neighbor, yet they knew ho was tho subject of their mutual thoughts. Annette's increasing pallor and approhennive looks •wore noted and Maukriu chafed in impotent anger. Ho now wished he had not located thero, but he had invested too much money to think readily of removal. Many schemes to get rid of Stein wcro considered, but either thoy were not feasible or else they involved crime. The fiercely hostile neighbor would soon look down upon them day and night from the superior height of his tract.

To Annette the immediate presence of the etcru lonely man was like nu oppressive nightman;, yet oei-unioiially, no unhappy was her life, i-ho was frightened at her wild impulse to fly to him. Unce, wheu her husbim I wu« iiu'uy lor :» brief time tshe heard Ilia lue nt'iir tho bno. Khu would epeak to hiiu, she would enlruut that ho either be reconciled or elso yo far uwuy. She would — she know not; wlmt. Running l.o\v;trii him, she held out her liaud. mid her voice was (ill appeal as she called ■ ' Stein !' The blows of his axe ceased, ho regarded her frowningly for a moment, then, with an imperious gesture, warned her back and strode awuy. She returned to the cabin so desperate aud despairing that life was v burden.

Indeed, life was becoming nimrden to both husbnud and wife. His heart, howovw, was

full of wrath and bitterness; she was sorrowing as without hope. Her mother's influence had been taken away, tho promised happiness of prosperity had not been received. All too late her heart, the woman within hor, had awakened. Conscience, an element she had not calculated upon, had spoiled everything ; the lover who would have remained such through life had becomo a stern, accusing presence. Late one afternoon sho was feeling this in a vague, dumb way, when she noted that the sun was suddenly darkouiiig. There was a distant roaring in tho west. Then her husband camo ruuning from the clearing and said, with something like torror in his face as ho shut the door, that a storm was coming , . Tho roar increased until it was a continuous and ever-increasing peal of thunder. A minute later and it was mingled with sharp cracks like tho reports of firearms. Then there was an awful crash and she knew no more.

A tallow candle was burning in a little hut and its glimmer fell on the face of an unconscious woman. Bending over her were two rude, shaggy-looking men, applying such simple restoratives as their limited knowledge suggested. Ono of the men was Stein, nnd tho other his friend tho lumberman.

"Oh, Jim, Jim," groaned Stein, "this is awful. Wrath and bitterness wore in my heart, but I wished for nothing like this. To think of it—both dead in a minute."

" Mackriu is dead—dead as a mackerel," said tho literal Jim, "but his wifo ain't. Her heart beats. Gosh ! Stein, she ain't his wifo no longer." " No, nor inino," was tho mournful reply. "0, Jim, think how it all has ended ! My planning and working and hoping! All is wreck and ruin, death. Tho cabin that I workod on and touched as loving as I touched hur hand aud cheek is scattered far and wide. Tho clearing is piled up with toni and broken trees. Oh, it was awful! awful! It took my breath away as it swept by. I was tumbled over and senseless awhile, I think." "Well, Stein, tho Lord was agin sicb doin's. The man what led her into it is done for, but I suspicion that the poor girl repented tho bargain and didn't like tho devil's coin, so the Lord kind o' put his hand over her mite and sho wasn't all splintered, xip like IMiickrin, she's slow comin' round though, mighty slow." " She's agoiu , to die," said Stein despairingly. "It ain't right, it ain't good for us to be so hard on flesh and blood. It's awful to have her die and boliovc forever that I had no rooro mercy than a oyclono. What shall we do, Jim ? What shall wo do ? We ain't tho ones to give the poor creature no chauco for life, if sho has any chauco." "I reckon yer right. You must stay with her, and I'll put out for a doctor and tell hor folks."

Soon Stein was alono witli tho bruised, unconscious woman. Ho chafed her hands with spirits and sought to induce her to swallow a littlo diluted with wator, and he lifted her as gently as if she wero a little child. Apparently it was of no use. Tho shock had been m great that sho could not rally speedily, and her white f aco gave no responso to his reassuring words and even incoherent terms of endearment.

Then ho covered her with his coat as if it miuht impart warmth, and began to build a liro on the hearth. While so engaged ho heard a deep sigh and started to his feet. " Where am I ? What has happened ?" asked a feeble voice. "Oh, Annotte, Annette," cried Stein, ••you won't die? You won't let it all end so horribly ?" "SU-inF" "Yes, Stein, who asks forgiveness that his heart was so full of bitterness nnd revenge." Tho woman looked at him a moment with eager questioning in her eyes. " You will forgive me'?" pleaded Stein. "I am so dazed! Tell me what it all means."

" There was a tornado. It passed close by mo und threw me down, but it struck tho cabin square and your life has been spared as by a miracle." " And—and my husband f"

" Ho is dead."

She was silent a few moments, and then said, tears glistening in her eyes, " Stein, I shall die, too. I feel it. I know it. Such wrong as wo aro guilty of could not prosper. All that we stole from you is gone. I'm glad. I couldn't have stood it much longor. I was so unhappy, so sorry. Forgive me, Stein, and let me die," and she feebly held out her hand.

He took it in both his own as he exclaimed, "I do forgive you, and entreat you to live."

She smiled. "Ah," sho sighed, "pain of body matters littlo when the pain has gone out of tho heart. I should have died—died fooling that you hated mo and despised me. Now 1 can die quietly."

Her eyes closed and. f-hc again became unconscious.

But she did not die; strong men, with lanterns, came through tho night. Thoy climbed over tho wreck and debris of the cyclonu and boro heraway gently on a litter to where a wagon was waiting. They bore away another helpless from—tho broken remains of ono who would scheme no more. Annette's foot was so crushed that it had to be amputated. She was a helpless woman for life, but Farmer Warwick grew less haggard, although his hair had become snowy. When, ufterinoro than a year had passed, and Stein had brought order out of chaos wrought by the cyclone, when he camo and took Annette, maimed, faded, devoured with a bitter experience, to a now and better cabin and made her v bettor devoted husband, Mother Warwick admitted that her daughter had dono well at hist. (the e.vd.)