IN NAUVOO.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7607, 17 January 1903, Page 2

IN NAUVOO.

(By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS), Author of " The Red Republic," etc The long drought ended ivith. a cloud fcux3t in the. Western Mountains, which tows a new slide down tho Hank of Lynx Peak, and ssartfed the Gildtd Dome from TOmniit) to base. Then storm followed .storm, bursting through the mountain notch and (sweeping the river into the meadows, where the haycocks wore already afloat, •nd the gaunt mountain cattle floundered; bellowing. The stage from: Whits Lake arrived at poon with the mail, and the driver walked into.the post-office, and slammed tho soaking njail-sack on tie floor. " Gfc«cioua 1" eaid- the little .post-mistress. "Yfti'm," said tie stage-driver irrete- ' 'jwmtly ; " them letters is wttter an' I'm ow-dde^n a swimmm' Shanghai ! Upsot 1 Yes'nx — in Snow Brook. Road's awash, meadders is flooded, an' tho water's aBwashin' an* a-flloshin' in them- tiiere gal■ouhta." He waved one foot about carelessly! scattering muddy apray, then balanced itfmsaH alternately on, heels and toes 4o;heaT the wates wheeae in his drenched boots. "There masfc he a hole in tihe imail- , jMBo&, H «ftld^«ipoßt»inißtr«*s in gentle dis- ' wan. , There certainly •was. The letters were soaked $ the wrappers on newspaper and %aroel hod become detached); the interior fcf the Government's moil-pouch, resembled the pteliminaafy stages of a- paper-pulp vat. (Bui tihe post-mistress worked so diligently ■Huong the debris that by on© o'clock she fcttd BOlted and placed Irf separate numbered! , fcoiea every; letted, newspaper and parcel — jgftne one. ' l 3Jha.k©ne waa a- letter directed to " James SJeta*, Esq., Nattvoo, via White Lake," iead ft was so wet, and! the garni that sealed •j& was kg nearly dissolved, that the post- . Wifebrefla decided) to place it between MotSera, pile two volumes of Government agri•ohltaral reports upon it, and leave it until - ; One., ty we the population of Nauvoo icame 'dripping into the post-office for the matt, then slopped out into the stoion again, tuffbtellas couched in the teeth of . She wind. -But James Helm- did) not com 6 ifor his letter. . The little /Mstwnifltress sat alone in lier •office and looked out into her garden. It was a very wet gardea; the (hollyhocks still raised their flowered spikes lin wie air j the nasturtiums, the vetfbenas lavd 1 the pansios were beaten down and* lyiing prone in muddy puddles. She Wonder!«dwhebber they would ever raiJSe tDeir. ( ifoeads agate—those delicate flower-faces 'that she Wt bo well, her only friends in wfeuvoo. ' ' , Tlwougih, th« long drought she- lad tended tk<&> v ministering to their thirst, protect" \ Ana them from their eneanies the weeds, leas' fros* the. great fuzzy brown andl yellow <c«teßpjUarß which travelled over the fences, teaidwi by instinct and/ a raging appetite. Now each, frail flower had laid its slender flenjih. along 1 tho earth', and the little postinistrSßS. watched them) -wistfully from Iher !raui-<tainadl window. ; flhe bad «xpe«bed to part with, her flovr- < W» j she was going away forever in a few «daya— flomffWhere-H^b© was not yet quite . certain where. 'But now that her nowaijs lay ipr6a9, bruised and broken, the idea of leavr Smj/fcKfcro behind her distressed l her sorely, t ■■'■ \lBSj& ttiofywl up her crutob and walkedi to trfeXlioor. It? ■?«» no üb*j the raiik warned 3ieV 'backji Bh» nab dtorwn again by thft winn, ' idAWtd »#ttl«ih. h«r KTOundedT flowers. , ■ -sfchgW vnm flomeiSilng else that distressed' Afar, tw, alfeboTigi the paradox of parting • Mkfai c, ijWiflon «ba had never met ought.to sa/ toi^p agpeals4 t° 'b** senfld °^ biunour. But i^i W* |i« no{> think of that j she had never, „j Wiftoa ai» !ha<J be«n postMniefcress In iNauvoo. '■f tepo3Efe» on* irord to James Helm, nor 3bad '' '• mtrW: spokon. to her. He had a fcey to this l*ttW^fl»i iw> always cam« toward even* • ' ilgfc ' jt irtui exactly <U year ago to-day that eitnte fey — a silent, pallidBfl^ij|f feSow iwitli unresptoslTe eyes and - t&» bearing of » gentleman. Hie was cor- "'. jfi^ally detested* in Kfluvoo. . J'or tvyeareha had -watched him enter the ' .BQfit«offlfi«, tttilook the letter-box., swing on a|s h«4» w»lk wway with, wevef a 3fcbtri<sß lib Taw nor a sign of recogfeition. to IJbtf' : <ii ths village peopl* who rnighi "be tihere. Bhs heard people exchange iin<3om>s «|^n]tary opiniott* ccmo&rninff him: shejh^ani him sneered at, denounced, sbmaered. J?a*ni»lly, being young and lonely, and IjTiiSeifWe; frtam msdioe toward anybody, shs V*A tims to- ooxtsbruot a romanc* around . flpjnv— a, very innocenb ronwuioe of w«ll> yc*n pattern. <and on most unoriginal lines. •* Ictp this romance she sometimes oonduoted herself, billing secretly at her mental in<JijjQretw>n» which) andisoretion so worried 2v<^ tbab she dared not even look at Helm tjiafc evening when he came for his snail, fjfcfc wtt» a grave, gentle little thing—* child gtUl^ whose childhood had been' a tragedy, ppd 'whose womanhood promised only that - ■httdas' of hapninees called oonQ>ntaneut whioh cov^es from, a blameless life, aftd a Saturft which, accepts sorrow without k«< ■entmcfnt. TMnkkig -of "Helm, as she sat theifc by the , /window she b&strd tiie office clock {striking five. Five was Helm's usual, hour, so she hid her crutch, It rra» her one Vanity — - that he «hould nob know she was lame. Skfr totte and lifted the two volumes of ■ Mriculturfli reports frotni the blotters where -Helm's letter lay, then carefully raised one Slower. To bear dismay half of the enTelc^e «tuok to the blotting-paper^ leaving the ■cottteoie of the letter op«n to her view 4 On tha hfiif envelopes lay an objeob ap-pßsantly-so peculiarly terrifying that the little postrJfftjistifcss caught her breath, and torgtia qt(it« white at Might of it. And yei jt ■'vfts oidy a square bit of papfer, per- - fectly blank fiave for half a dozen threadlike iiaas ficattered through its texture. , For ft long while the post-mifttness stood 1 V «tattog at the half envelope and the bit of - , blank paper. Them with trembling fingers ribft lignted a lamp and held the little piece Of pajjer <we*tb» chimney— carefuUy. Wh«n tftfc jpAper was warm, she raised ib up to the Ijiifafr, and read the scrawl that the sympatß&tfaa&k revealed » \ I «eit<i you. a sample of the latest style of tbte. ik>ok out for the new post-master at ■Hjfcspoo. He's &■ Secret! Servios spy, and wi beea.eent to see what you are doing. Thin is the-Jaefr -letter t dare send you by maili" . liheTe was no signature to the message, buts a signaturd was not; necessary to tell ' * Ibfr 3KttfrQQ&treag, who had written the letter W^h set lips and tearless eyes she. "Wa&shttJ the writing fftde slowly on the .pa-|ptir) <M*d when again the paper was , bl«4; rfhe. eat down by the windowj laying* V h«x head) in her arms. ;i\ A fwr- moments later Helm «am« in wrapped in a shining ' wat mackintosh. He glftooed at his box, saw it was empty, y- . wheeled! squarely on his heels, and walked Toward sunset the rain dissolved to mist ; a trail of vapour which marked the course of an Uttfttwa brook floated high among the hemlocks* There was no wind: the feather tips of the pines, powdered with rain . cptay t roso motionless in tho still air. Sud- ~ denly ,th» fiun'a red s«airohlight played . through the foseat; long warm rays fell across wet anoss, rain-drenchedi ferns dripped, tho swamp steamed. In the eaefc the thunder still boomed, and faint light- ' sing flashed under the smother of sombre clouds ; but the storm had rolled off among tho mountains, and already a wfcite-throafcea ' sparrow was calling from the edge of the. clearing. It promised to be a calm evening in Nauvoo. . Meanwhile, Hftjgi walked on. down the muddy loadt i»iding the puddles which the sun turned into pools of liquid flame. He heazd the cat-birds mewing in the alders ; he heard the evening carol of the robin —that sweet, sleepy, thrush-lik© warble which always promises a melody that never follows ;" he picked a spray of . rain-drenched hemlock as he passed, crush- . , isg it in his firm t pale -fingers, to inhale . ' the iragr«nde. Now in the glowing evening : pkjr tfa» bull-baU weie soaring . and . ttem-

bling, and the tree-frogs trilled from the darkening pastures.

Around the bend in the road his house stood all alone, a small, single-storied cottage in a tangled garden. He passed in at his gate, but, instead of unlocking the front door, he began to examine the house, as though had never before seen it; he scrutinised every window, lie made a cautious, Silent tour of the re-turning to stare again at the front door. The door was locked; he^ never left the house without locking it, and he never returned without approaching the house in alert silence, as though it might conceal an enemy. There was no sound of his footfalls as he. mounted the steps; the next instant- ho was inside the house, bis back against the closed door— listening. As usual, he heard nothing except the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house, and as usual he slipped his revolver back into the side-pocket of hia coat, And fitted a key into thft door on his left. The room was pitch dark; he lighted a candle and held it up, shading his eyes with a steady hand. There was a table and one chair in the room; the tajble was littered with engraver's tools, copper plates and bottles of acid, packets of fibre paper and photographic paraphernalia. A camera, a readinglamp and % dark lantern stood on a shelf beside a nickel-pluted clock which ticked sharply. Tho two window's in the room had been Sealed up with planks, over which sheet-' iron was nailed/ The door also had been reinforced with sheet-iron. From a peg above it a repeating rifle hung festoontd with two cartridge belts. When he had fUled his lamp from a can of kerosene lift lit it, and sat down to the task before him with even less interest than usual— and his interest had been waning for weeks. For the excitement that makes crime interesting had subsided, and the novelty was gone. There was no longer anything in his crime that appealed tp his intelject; the problem of successfully accomplishing crime was no longer a problem to him. He had solved it. The twelve months' work on the plate before him demonstrated this; the plate was perfect; 'the counterfeit was an absolute facsimile. The Government stood to lose whatever he chose to take from it. As an artist in engraving, and as an intelligent man, Helm wwats t or had been, proud of his work. But for that very reason, because ho was an artist, he had tirsd of his masterpiece, and was already fingerings a flew plate, vaguely meditating better and more ambitious work. Why hot? -Way should ho nob employ his splen-*---did skill and superb accuracy in something original? That is where the artist and the artisan part company— the artisan is always content to oopy ; the artist, once master of his tools, creates. In Helm the artist was now in the ascendant; he dreamed of engraving living things direct from Nature — the depths of forest) shot with suushine ? the scrubby uplands against a sky crowded with clouds, and perhaps cattle noaing for herbage among the rank fern and tangled briars of a scanty pa*tur&— perhaps even the shy, wild country children, bare-headed and naked of knee and shoulder, staring, halftamed, from the roadside brainbks. It is, of course, possible that Helm was a natural born criminal, yet his motive for trying, his skill at counterfeiting was rovengo and not persona! gain. He had 1 wrv«di nia apprenticeship" in the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.' He "had served the Government tw«lve years, through three admiDlsttations. Being o high^salaried employee, the Civil Service gave him no protection when the quadrennial doublefihuffle ahanged the politics of the Administration. He was thrown aside like a shabby garment which 1 , has served its purpose, and although for years he had known tflhafc ultimate reward was reserved for those whom the Republic hiresj he could never bring himself to believe that yfearg of faithful labour and a skill which increased with every new task set could meet the common fate. So when his resignation wl»b requested, and when, refusing Indignantly, he was turned out, neck and heels, after his twelve years' faultless service! it changed the man terribly. He went away with' revenge in his mind and the skill tuid intelligence to accomplish it. But now that he has accomplished it, and the plate was finished 1 , and the Government at his mercy, the incentive to consummate his roveoge lagged. After oll^ what could £c revenge himself on? The Governmemt —that huge, stupid, abstract bulk ! Had it a efhapo, «. f ortn conorete, nerves, that it could suffer in its turn? 'Even if it could suffer, after all, ho was . tired of suffering. Tbete wins »«> novelty in it. Perhaps his recent life alone in the sweet, Wholesome woods had soothed <k bitter and rebellious fceart. There i« a balm/ for deepest wounds in the wiud, and in. the stillness of a wilderness there is a salve fdr souls. As lie sat there brooditug, or dreaming of Qic work life Bright, yet do, there stole into his senses that impalpabte consdiousaeas qt another presence> nneatr t andl coming nearer. Alert, silent, he io«e, and as he turned he heard the front gate click. In, an instant he had extinguished lamp and candle, and stepping back into the hallway, he laid his eat to^the door. In the silence he heard steps along the gravel, then in the iporoh. There was a Eause ; leaning closer to the door, he could ear the rapid irregular breathing of his visitor. Knocking began at Ja*b, a very gentle rapping, silence, another uncertain rap, then tho sound of retreading steps from th» gravel «nd the click of the gate latoh. With one hand covering the weapon in his ooat pocket he opened the door without a sound, and stepped, out. Ayoung girl stood just outside his gate. "Who are, you, and what is your business with this house?" he inquired grimly. The criminal in him was now in the ascendant ; he was alert, cool, suspicious and insolent. Ho saw in anybody who approached his house the menace of discovery, perhaps on intentional and cunning attempt to entrap -and destroy llittl. All that was evil in him ca-me to the surface ; the fear that anybody might forcibly frustrate his revenge— if he chose to revenge, himself— raised a demon in him that blanched his naturally pallid face, and started his lip^muscles into that curious recession which, in animals, is tiiQ first symptom of the snarl. "What do you want?" he repeated. " Why do you knock a*ad then slink away?" "I did not know you were at home," eaid the girl faintly. " Then why do you oome knocking? Who are you, anyway?" he demanded harshly, knowing perfectly w«ll who she was. " I am the post-mistress at Nauvoo," dbe faltered: "that is, I was— " "Really," he «ftid angrily ; "your intelligence might teach you to go where- you ore more welcome." His brutality appeared to paralyse the girl.' She looked; at him, as though, attempting to comprehend bis meaning. "Are you not Mr Helm?" she asked, in a 1 sweet, be-, wildered voice. <■ " Yea, I ittm," he replied shortly. •' I thought you were a gentleman,," she continued in the same stunned voice." ' " I'm not," said Helm bitterly j " I fancy you will agree with me, too. Good -night." He deliberately^ turned his back on her, and flat down on the wooden steps of the porch; but his finely modelled cart were alert and listening, and when, to hie amazement,; he heard her open his gate again and re-enter, he swung around with eyes contracting wickedly. | She met his 'evil glance quite bravely, wincing when he invited her to leave the yard. But she came nearer, crowing the xank, soakiny grass, and stood beside him j where he wa* «tstmg. «„ , "May I tell you something?" she asked timidiy. . ' "Will you be good enough to pass your way r he answered, rising. " Not yet," she replied, end seated herself on the steps. . The next moment »he, vna crying silently, but that only lasted, until she could touch her eyes with 'her handkerchief,. He stood above her on-the.stejys: Fer^

hapa it wa« asto-nisbment that sealed his lips, perhaps decency* Go had noticed that she was slightly lame, although heD aknder figure appeared almost faultless. He waited for a moment. >Far on the clearing's dusky edge a whitethroated sparrow called persistently to a mate that did not answer. If Helm still felb alarm or feared fcreach : cry his voice did not 'betray it. " What is the trouble?" he demanded less roughly. She said without looking at him. "I have deceived 1 you. Theie was a letter for you to-day. It came apart and — I found — this—" She held out a bit of paper. He took it mechanically. ,His face had suddenly turned grey.. The paper wass fibre paper. He stood there bieatliless, his face a ghastly, bloodless mask ; and when ho found his voice, it was only the gliost of a voice. "What is all this about?" he asked. "About fibre paper," she answered, looking up at him. ; •' Fibre paper ?" he repeated, confounded) by her candour. " Yes— Government fibre. Do you think I don't know what it is T" ■ For the first time there was bitterness in her voice. She turned' partly round, j supporting her body on one arm. " Fibre paper? Ah, yes, I know what it is," s&e Said again. He fqoked her squarely in the eyes, and he saw in her face that &he knew what he was and what ho had been doing in iNauvoo. Tho blood slowly stained his pallid cheeks. „ "Well," he said coolly, "what are you going-, to do about iff" His ey*s began to grow narrow, and tihe lines about his mouth deepened. The crim- 1 ihal in him, brought to bay, watched every movement of the ■ young girl before him. Tranquil <wid optimistic, he quietly seated himself on the wooden steps beside her. Little he cared' for her and her discovery. It would take more than a pretty, lame girl to turn him from his destiny and his destiny was whab he chose to make it. He almost smiled at her. " So," The said, in smooth, even tones, "you think tho game is ;ip?" " Yes ; but nothing need harm you," she answered eagerly. " Harm me !" he repeated! with an ugly ] sneer ; then a sudden wholesorrfe curiosity deized him, and he blurted out: "But what ! do you care?" ' Looking up art; him, she started to reply, and the words failed her. She bent her head in silence. . \ "Why?" he demanded again. j "I have oiten seen you,' she faltered; j "I sometimes thought you were unhappy 1 ." j " But why do you come to warn me ? l*eopla hate me in Nauvoo." " I do not hate you," slid replied faintly. "Whyr \ "Idon'tknovr." A star suddenly gleamed low over the forest's level crest. Night had fallen in Nauvoo. After a silence ho said in an atter-ed voice: "Am. I to understand* that you came to warn a. common criminal?" I She did not answer. "Do you know what I am doing?" he asked. "Yes." "What?" x " You are counterfeiting." "How dp you know? he said with a touch of menace in his sullen voice. " Because— -because — niy father did it — " "Did what?" " Counterfeited — what you are doing now !" she gasped. " That is how 1 know nbout the fibre. I !kn«w it the moment I saw it— Government fibre — and I knew what was on.it; the flame justified me. And oh, I could not let them take you us they took father — to prison for all those yeai's !" "Your father!" he blurted out. "Yes!" she cried, revolting; "and his handwriting . is on that piece of paper in your hand !" Through, the stillness of the evening the rushing of a distant brook among the hemlocks grew louder, increasing on. the night wind like the souijd of a distant train on a trestle. Then the wind died out; a, nightbird whistled in the starlight: a white nioth hummed up and down the vines over the porch. , " I know who- you are now," the girl continued ; " you knew my Tatlver in the Bureau of Engraving and Printing?" "And your name list hot Helm?" "No." ' V "Do you not know the Government watch?* discharged employees of the Burreau of" Engraving and Printing?" "ik^QWit;." "So you changed your name?" "Yos." She leaned nearer, looking earnestly into his shadowy eyes. " Do you know that an officer of the Secret Service is coming to Nauvoo?" "I could take the plate a-ud go. There is time," he answered sullenly. "Yea — there is time." A dry sob choked her. He heard the catch an her voice, but he did not move his eyes from * the ground. His heart seemed to have grown curiously heavy j a strange inertia weighted his limbs. Fear, anger, bitterness — riay, revengV itself — had died out, leaving not a tranquil mind, but a tired one. The pulse scarcely beat in his body. After awhile the apathy of mind and body appeared to rest him. He was so tired of hate. " Give me the keys," she whispered. "Is it in there? Where is the plate? In that room? Give mo the keys." As in a dream he handed Her his keys. Through a lethargy which was almost a stupor, he saw her enter his house ; he heard !her unlock the door of the room where his plates lay. After a moment she found a match and lighted the candles. Helm sat heavily on the step*, his head on his breast, dimly aware that she was passing and re^passing, carrying bottles and armfuls of" tools and paper and plates out into the darkness somewhere. • It may have been a few minutes } it may have been an hour before she returned to him on the steps, 'breathing rapidly, her limp gown clinging to her limbs, her dark hair faJling to her shoulders. "The plates and acida will never be found," she said, breathlessly ; " I put everything into the swamp. It is quickBand." For a long time neither spoke. At length she slowly turned away* toward the gate, jind: he. rose and followed, ' scaroely aware of what he was doing. At the gate she stooped and pushed a dark object out of sight under the" bushes ■by the fence. " Let me help you," h* said, bending beside h*r. " No, no, dom't," she stammered ; "it is noflbinff." He found it, and handed it to her. It was her crutch ; and she turned crimson to the roots of her hair. " Lean on m«," he said, very gently. The girl bit her trembling lip till the blood came. " Thank you," sne ' said, crushing back her tears; "my crutch is enough, 'but you needl not have known it. Kindness is comparative; one can be too kind." He misunderstood her, and drew back. "I forgot," he said, quietly, "what privileges are denied to criminals." " Privilege," she faltered. After a moment she laid one hand on bis arm. "I shall be v»ry glad of your help," she j s*id; "X am more lame than I wish the world to know. It was only the vanity of j a cripple that refused you." . .___ ; But he thought h«r very beautiful as she paswd with him out into the starlight.

The most extraordinary of all British lighthouses is to be found on Arnish Bock, Stornow&y Bay— a rock which is separated from/ the Island of Lewis by a channel over 600 ft wide. On this rock a conical beacon is erected, and on its summit a lantern is fixed, from which, night after night, shines a light which, is seen by thp fishermen far and wide.' The; way in which this lighthouse » illuminated is this: On the Island of Lewis is a lighthouse, and from a win* dow in the tower a stream of light is -projected on to a mirror in. the lantern on j the summit of Arnish Bock,