HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 173, 14 August 1909, Page 4

HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.

Chapter I—A Secret Compact. To au unpractised eye the mountainous slope of mixed heather and bilberry bush, the steep bits of scree and boulder which intersected it here and there, and the fierce uvruanguig crags above, might all have seemed equally- barrea of life mil movement. Hut a "thick-set, blackbearded man, s'taring upward from the road below, could distinguish, three connected sets of action. First he saw sheep running hither and thither among stones larger than themselves, which vet might have been taken tor small pebble* by a man from the plains. Next, his keen eye found the dark leaping forms of the dogs, which were skilfully moving the sheep in a certain fixed direction; and lastly, by ■loting the turned head of a collie which paused and listened for instructions, lie was able to search out the guiding ■pirit of the whole, the gaunt grey form if the shepherd, among the gaunt grev '>ouldcr<. . The bh.ck-lwarded wayfarer looked up theroad and down the road, with acauious c\v, before scrambling clumsily over the wall and starting to climb upwards almost on hands and knees'. He .vas broad-built and heavy—polite neighbors told each other than "he filled his .-■tollies"—and the exertion irked him. ; He presently leaned, panting, against a monstrous su.ne, and, putting both Lands to his month, bellowed forth a halloo in a stentorian bass. A tenor yell answered him, and after i few final wbistles and gesticulations 'ung to the hard-working dogs, the shepi' "i made his way rnpidlv down to the 'i.vcl from which the call Lad reached '•'v„.o ii , ' , "•l* s ***!* •No handshake was exchanged between i lie two -men. The shepherd put out a ""?, thin arm and look the other r ov :he shoulder, and the b1.;.-];-bearded man responded with a number of geatle pats Iclivered upon the arm which seized him. J' Well. William!" he s'aid. 'Well, Dafydd!" said the shepherd, and they looked upon each other with a glow of mutual ►atisfaction which had a mysteriou= gleam of mischief in it. There i>.<- m other point of coincidence in thi\r appearance. David was black-haired, blue-eyed, and broad of countenance A well-to-do air pervaded bis clothes and his manner, as well it might, for Ik' his a quarryman and n jrosperous nieiuWr of that community—the spoilt net among the trades of Xo'rth \V«Im. William, with his long, narrow nice, sad brown cye«, and rough clothe hanging loose upon an attenuated tan was as great a contrast as could be demised. Yet they were brothers. "Xone can see us here to carry tale iO the females," said Divid, casting n i cautious glance backward at the road. I ;le spoke in the delicate and musical iVcleh of Carnarvonshire, an ' William's I ight tenor answered his sonorous bass I ■I the same tongue. c '•They can't!" agreed William. "How t s it there?" f The mournful shake of David's head a eferred to the well-understood purport f the eauuiry. He made no reply to it u n words. "Lizzie has' been leading the a reetiugs at Bculah," he said. "It's won- ij erful how she works upon them. She s as the root of the matter, has Lizzie, s hey were crying put like hawks last izht after her praying." n "Magsrie heard about it, and she was n sking if Lizzie would share her hats a ilh the poor after this!" The twinkle which William loved to tl ring into the eves of bis solemn brother H nneared and disappeared between two p: inks of David's eyelitto, >vi di 'lizzie heard that, tos," fa |g}& 122 U

I "There's no need for the most of them Jto pray for the gift of tongues," scoffed William. '

"But there is more than talking in it this time, whatever to you," David asserted earnestly. "There is, there is. Maggie has been shaken, too, and she is not so bitter as she was against you and Lizzie." "Against me?" answered David, his gentle blue eyes filled with sorrowful ■protest. "Yes, indeed, Diaw! I should have a rough world with her if she was to see us talking together here. She would be complaining from now to Monday." The broad, burly brother unconsciously shifted a little'morc into the shelter of the great stone behind him. "As man can do as lie wills with his wife," ho said, in a tolie of deeision~"bnt peace is better, William bach!" "There's a duet, a famously good One, in the new 'Canlada' of John Hughes," said William irritably. "If they would be reasonable we could learn it, to sing nt some big concert." David only sighed. Both men had a lender affection for their wives, and sooner than affront them they passed each other in the street with averted heads-, though William would often wink with one wicked eye at his brother, while the eye visible to his wife or to Ihe passers-by remained severely melancholy. For «ix months past they had allowed it to be supposed that tliey were irreconcilably estranged on account of the quarrel between the two wives, which had assumed the dimensions' of a party affair in the village.

How could any husband who loved 'lis wife—and peace—be otherwise than :' his wife's party? The rights of a. ;ij were, to these two tender-hearted .Welshmen, cTearly greater than the rights of the matter. The two women were the best sopranos in the village, and Maggie, the shepherd's wife, was perhaps the better of the two. Yet Lizzie, the wife of the Solid and respectable David, was chosen to sing the solo in an important performance of an oratorio. Then Maggie, red of hair and hot of temper, picked a quarrel, and Lizzie, less inflammable but more implacable, revenged herself by declining at the last moment to sing her part unless Maggie retired from the choir. The performance was to begin in five [minutes, and nothing short of brute force could oust Maggie from her place. [ The conductor had no choice but to start the oratorio, in the hope than one of the two women would be public-s'pirited enough to relent.' But when the critical moment came, Lizzie closed her mouth and her book and sat down. Then Maggie'* beautiful voice struck up. Seen! In • a triumph in case of Lizzie's defection, from cold or temper or any other cause, she had ]»arnt the solo without a word to anyone, and her victory was complete. Every week had added some fresh unforgivable trespass of each against the other. Maggie declared that Lizzie had "husfeed the dogs on her." Lizzie vowed that Maggie had "loosed the cat" among her young chickens. Vengeance followed upon the heels of vengeance, till at Jast the mountain of offence attained a height which divided the friends of the one side from the friends of the other.

. Lizzie's party—though the conductor and his set were virulent against her—was so incomparably the richer and more influential that'she might well have afforded to be magnanimous. But there were people who said that the success of the oratorio had been due to the change at the la*st moment. And the i-itterness of this pill was not easy to forget. So David's wife had come to believe that the whole affair had been engineered from the beginning, and that she herself bad hern 110 more than a reluctant tool in Maggie's bands-. If David, too, had turned against her, her cup would have been full, and all the fuller because she jealously knew that William was the "candle of his eye."

So David turned against his brother, and sighed when his wife's hack was turned: he even sighed before her face when she informed him that "William was going from worse to worse, potting on Saturday night, so that Maggie, the poor creature, had to bear everything from him.''

Mu\ lip sighed when the subject of the duet for tenor and bass was' broached. It would have kept William from the "tnfl'arn'' for one evening, at least.

"If the -Amendment' would get a hold of Maggie, too," he suggested,'"perhaps thev would be melted towards one another.

William laughed. "Some have been running together and kissing in the chapel." he said. "Shall I come to-night and make it up will) you before every:'Odv?" '•Don't seol)', William bach. You would iinl i'.i-f ihe same." Tiere David paused. .i'..l then added, with a shame-faced ■:■'■•:■. "Some have given up the drink

after being there." >'-'iii'aiii swore violeiii . "Are yon w.'.iuing me to make -.-. self a s'poli through the whole di-.ril-t?" he cried. "Jumping up in the meeting like a Robin Sponc. and howling all over the place?" "Don't s«ear, William bach. Y'ou would

ant believe what a blessed piaec there was there last night, and Lizzie will he praying at Beulali again to-night. Come to-night, William bach." "Yes, I'll come, and I'll throw my arms about you and say we are Mend's —it will be as true as the 'i'ader.' And I hen I'll call on Maggie to do the same for Lizzie, and then we shall see if Lizzie will be casting hor off before everybody. A man with a little wits, look you, can turn all waters to hie own mill!" David hesitated. He knew the extent of bis influence over his excitable, brilliant brother, who could write letters in flowing English to the papers, and yes had a deeper confidence in steady-going David than in himself. He knew that he could prevent the carrying out of this profane jest if he were resolved to do so. But he looked at his brother's I face, and saw certain signs in it, and hesitated.

"Come to-night, whatever," he said at last.

William burst into a hearty laugh which illuminated bis melancholy eves. The corners of his mouth curled with mischief. "Yes, I'll- come," be repeated, turning to go to the assistance of his bewildered dogs. "And so will Maggie." He climbed the mountain-side again witt rapid, springing steps, and' Davie, thudded back toward* the road.

Chapter ll.—Confession. Chapel Bculah was crowded. Th. paraffin lamps, swinging from the ceiling, shone upon .a sea of heads packed in orderly waves among Die pews of gleaming yellow pine. All faced towards the "Great Seat," and all eyes were turned upon its occupants. Threads of attention, stretching to that single point from every part of the building, might almost be felt, compelling every thought of every creature there to con -cntrato itself tonsolv on the magnetic area occupied by the leaders of tin meeting. The air was heavy and hot. and loaded with the glare and odour of the paraffin lamps. From an ornament of one ol these an old, dried, black kid glove hun« hy a button, and betrayed by its dcadlv ' stillness '.be total absence of draught. A-i oid man who was proving called atter.tiou to it. "See the old glove there upon th" lamp. It is lost, and going hard and dry and good for nothing. It will foe too late when the owner will come f it again. Seek our lost hearts, 0 Lord. *ok them, to come at them before il will be too late to wear them! Seek them and wear -them upon Thy tw* hands, 0 Lord, to bring more hearts to iho throne of grace." His audience did not smile, and when, a little later, a pause was called for silent prayer, there was not the faintcsl sound to compete with the «oft tiekb? of a clock upon the wall, until the gentle weeping of a woman made itself hoard Then the storm which had been pent up 'n the stillness broke, and the rain of

tears and the wind of sighs accompanied the passionate wail of an old hymn. The weeping woman was Maggie. She lid not move or raise dior voice to tea;ify. She sat and wept, poor girl, nol •o much from a conviction of sin ar'iceniiso of her secret sorrows', knowr. ul.v to herself and the husband who sal "side her. He stared down at the frail ■Touching figure, with Its cloud of dartred hair under an old black hat. and hit heart moved painfully within him. Lizzie had heard the small sobs frontier place near the "Great Seat," within the bay of which her David sat in hie decorous black suit. The chief leader of

the meetiug saw her dark, handsome face working with some strong emotion, and called upon her to pray. She began her prayer as confidently as usual, but t'liough she had never been so greatly moved in spirit, no fervor of words came to her. She hesitated aiui| slopped. Then her voice bejau a«ainJ shakon and a little broken. "Tim Lord snvs I shan't sneak tonight," she s'aid tremulously. "Pray for me, people! There is a bar between me and God—prar for it to be moved!" 1 She had nraved for many herself, bill/

I thi9 appeal for their prayers.. reached] J their hearts more poignantly than her j prayers for their conversion had ever done* They knew her for a proud {mm i jm.-,i immmm

There was a tense silence. It was broken by Lizzies voice again, firm and clear this- time. She had lisen to her feet, and advanced to an open space hefore the Great Seat."

"My heart was hard, but the Lord has' melted it," she said. "I was thinking to praise Him with my heart shut against one that is hero, but now the Lord has melted me. I aßk her to forgive me, and I forgive her. On me was most of the blame."

With a little generous cry, Maggie ran down the alley and flung her thin arms about her sister-in-law. The congregation strained forward to see, but could not hear her murmur of "On me bo all the blame, Lizzie bach, but I only learnt it for fear you had a cold, indeed."

Before the little incident could be closed there was another stir. AH heads' turned to sec William Thomas, the shepherd, swinging down towards the pulpit after his wife. He was not a man whose actions could be reckoned upon. No one could tell what he might do. He might even be intending to forbid the reconciliation. His dark eyes were wide and shining, and his trembling lips and clenched hands' might well be taken lor signs of an overwhelming anger. David listccd breathlessly for his first words.

"There's a quarrel which I have also," cried William. His voice carried easily uver the whole building. "And I am for making it up on the spot."

David's faithfulness to his brother was' greater than his other principles—he went and stood beside the gaunt, poorlyclad figure. Tears of disappointment were in his eyes, but he was prepared to let them pass for tokens of a softened heart. He had taken the risk when he urged William to come, and ho meant to abide by it.

"The ■ quarrel I had was with cold water," continued William, sending a I shock of surprise through the whole congregation. He loved his little effect, but he was none the less sincere. "And now I will set an end to this quarrel before everybody, so that I may not turn again to the drink. Richard Lloyd and Harry Parry, I see you there—l Say it before you, and before these, and before :;-i!."' The two fellow-sinners he had ni.ued exchanged a word and a nod, and stood up shyly in theft places. William was the leading spirit in their set, and the impulse to follow him was strong. "If you will be holding to it, William Tomos, we will be holding to it the same," mumbled one of them, and Davit gave thanks audibly, knowing that they had nailed his brother's colors to the i mast.

Two voices as pure as spring water struck up a hymn of praise. It was Lizzie and M:'ggie. David, that very shy Christian. :'.ddcd his powerful bass, with his face bent to hide his wet eyes, but William, singing tenor with his whole heart, kept his face uplifted, and his eyes,were like a seer's. He poured forth a marvellous prayer after the hymn, and many of the wildest lads in the village followed the lead of tho cleverest in their company.

But it was after the breathless excitement of the meeting was over, and whe-.i the two brothers, with their wives a few paces behind them, were walking home together in a great peace, that he truly unburdened his s'oul to the rejoicing David. •It is you that has beaten. Dafydd bach," he said—"you and Maggie. God forgive me—f couldn't say a word there. to hurt her in her pride before them all —but I have been bad to the little woman. That shall never be again." Maggie came up with them. She hung upon William's arm like a new-made bride, when the moon went behind the clouds, and she could fancy herself unobserved. Secretly she whispered to her husband—"l have forgotten it, William. It will be now again as' it was ti'hen we were married."

One more word William found an opportunity to say to his brother before their ways separated. They had reached a turning where a little river went brawling under the road, and the great hills, a phalanx of silent witnesses, rose high into the sky on either side.

"Dafydd," he said, abruptly. "Did yon fall on the ground, or what, after you left me, this morning, when you were stopping by the wall there, at the bottom ?"

'"The siring of my shoe was' undone," protested David: and then, seeing that hi' was not believed, he added, "but many are praying outside now, and sayins it isti.i good as 1n the chapel, though nobody is (here to see."

For oiipc William's ready tongue found no answer. He turned awav in silence with Maggie, lie. was thinking (and the thought breathed cool wind) that he wis not worthy to tie up that shoe<triiijr.—By Gwendolen Pi'vcc,