"JEAN," breathed Orlean, from the bed, "where
have you been ? "

He had come unto the house then, and the
man in him was much downcast. He was, and had cause to
feel discouraged, sorrowful and sad. So he explained to
the one who lay upon the bed where he had been, and what
had happened to him, and why he had been delayed.

She sighed when he was through and was sorry. For
a long time he was on his knees at the bedside, and when
an hour had passed, she reached and placed her arm about
his neck, and was thankful that he was spared to her, and
they would live on hopeful ; but both felt their loss deeply.

" I sent papa a telegram," she said presently. Because he
knew he made no answer. He knew the other would come,
and he was resigned as to what would follow. She sighed
again. Perhaps it was because she knew and also feared
what was to follow. . . . She had not known her father
her lifetime without knowing what must happen. But she
loved her husband, and now in the weak state the delivery
had left her she was struggling to withstand the subtle at-
tack her father was sure to make.

Two days passed, and she was progressing toward health
as well as could be expected. Since her marriage her
health on the whole had improved wonderfully. The petty
aches and pains of which she complained formerly had gradually disappeared, and the western air had brought
health and vigor to her.

And then on the third day he arrived. Moreover, he
brought Ethel with him. They rode over the hill that led
to the claim in a hired rig, and Baptiste espied them as
soon as they were in sight.

Our pen cannot describe what Jean Baptiste read in the
eyes of N. J. McCarthy when he alighted from the buggy
and went into the house. But suffice to say, that what had
passed twenty-two years before had come back. There was
to be war between them and as it had been then Baptiste was
at a disadvantage, and must necessarily accept the inevitable.

Ethel was crying, and her tears meant more than words.
She had never cried for love. It had always been some-
thing to the contrary. But we must turn to the one in bed
and helpless !

She saw her father when he stepped from the buggy,
and understood what he carried behind his masklike face.
He did not allow his eyes to rest on Jean Baptiste, and she
noted this. She settled back upon the pillow, and tried
to compose herself for the event that was to be. Her husband was compromised, and could not defend himself. . . .
Therefore it fell upon her and from the sick bed to defend
him.

He was inside the house now, and came toward her, and
she was frightened when he was near and saw his face and
what it held. Hatred within was there and she shuddered
audibly. She closed her eyes to shut it out. Oh, the
agony that came over her. She opened her eyes when his
lips touched hers, and then began the struggle that was
to be hers.

"Papa," she whispered, and in her voice there was a great
appeal. " Don't blame Jean. Jean has burdens, he has responsibilities he's all tied up! He's good to me, he loves
me, he gives me all he has." But before she had finished,
she knew that her appeal had fallen upon deaf ears. Her
father had come and he had brought a purpose to be ful-
filled.

He caressed her; he said many foolish things, and she
pretended to believe him; she made as if his coming had
meant the saving of her life ; but she knew behind all he
pretended was the evil, the evil that was his nature, and
the fear that filled her breast made her weaker; made her
sick.

The doctor had said that she would be able to leave the
bed in ten days, probably a week; but now with grim realization of what was before her she became weak, weaker,
weakest. And all the time she saw that it was being
charged to Jean Baptiste, and to his neglect.

We should perhaps try to make clear at this point in this
story that Jean Baptiste could have settled matters in a
very simple manner. . . . True, the manner in which he
could have settled it, would be the manner in which wars
could be avoided by sacrificing principle. He could have
gone to his Majesty and played a traitor to his nature by
pretending to believe the Elder had been right and justified
in everything; whereas, he, Jean Baptiste, had been as duly
wrong. He could have acted in such a manner as to have
his Majesty feel that he was a great man, that he had been
honored by even knowing him, much less in being privileged
to marry his daughter. This, in view of the fact that having been absent from her bedside at that crucial time, he was
compromised, would have satisfied the Elder, and Baptiste
would not have been compelled to forego all that later came
to pass in their relations. But Jean Baptiste had a principle, and was not a liar, nor a coward, nor a thief. And, although, he had been so unfortunte as not to have been by
the bedside of his wife during that hour, he could have sentimentally appeased his father-in-law, but Jean Baptiste had not nor will he ever in the development of this story, sink
so low. Of what was to come and the most is in this
story, Jean Baptiste at no time sacrificed his manhood for
any cause.

N. Justine McCarthy, and this is true of too many of
his race and to this cause may be attributed many of their
failures, was not a reader. He never read anything but the
newspapers briefly" and the Bible a little. He was, there-
fore, not an informed man. As a result he took little interest in, and appreciated less, what the world is thinking
and doing. He had never understood because he had not
tried, what the people around where Jean Baptiste had come
were doing for posterity. Yet he claimed very loudly to be
an apostle of the race to be willing and was sacrificing his very soul for the cause of Ethiopia. He took
great pride in telling and retelling how he had sacrificed for
his family wife included. As he was heard by others,
he had no faults; could do no wrong, and would surely
reach heaven in the end!

So while they lingered at the bedside of Orlean, he and
Ethel, as a pastime argued with each other, and involved
everybody but themselves with wrongs. For instance, the
Reverend, affecting much piety, would in discussing his
wife, whom he ever did in terms regarding her faults, find
occasion to remark in a burst of self pity and of self pity
he had an abundant supply:

"After all I have done for that woman; after all I have
sacrificed for her ; after all the patience I have endured while
she has held me down kept me from being what I would
have been and should, she is ever bursting out with:

"You're the meanest man in the world! You're the meanest
man in the world!" Whereupon he would affect a look of
deep self pity and eternal mortification.

Unless we lengthen the story unnecessarily, we would not
have the space to relate all he said in reference to his son-
in-law in subtle ways during these days. But Jean Baptiste
was too busy building a barn and other buildings to listen to
these compliments the Elder was bestowing upon his wife
with regard to him. "Yes, my dear," he said time and
again, "If Jean was like your father, you would not be
here now with your child lying dead in the grave. No,
no. You would be in the best hospital in Chicago, with
nurses and attendants all about you and your darling baby
at your side," and, so saying, he would affect another sigh of
self pity.

At first she had struggled to protest, but after a few days
she gave up entirely and became resigned to the inevitable.
She received an occasional diversion, however, when the
Elder and Ethel entered into a controversy. Unlike Orlean,
Ethel was not afraid of her father, especially when he had
something to say about Glavis. The truth was, that while he
so pretended, N. J. McCarthy had no more love for Glavis
than he had for Baptiste; but he could tolerate Glavis because Glavis endeavored to satisfy his vanity. Baptiste, on
the other hand, while he now accepted all his father-in-law
chose to pour upon him in the way of rebuke for what he had
done and should not have, and what he had not done and
should have, he never told the Elder that he was a great
man.

The first few days the Elder had held the usual prayer;
but after some days he dispensed with this, and turned all his
energy to rebuking Jean Baptiste, when he was out of sight.

"Now, don't you talk about Glavis," cried Ethel one day
when his Majesty had tired of abusing Baptiste and sought
a diversion by remarking that Glavis had come from a
stumpy farm in the woodlands of Tennessee. "No, you
don't! Glavis is my husband and you can't abuse him to his
back like you are doing Baptiste!"

"Just listen how she treats her father, Orlean," cried the
Elder, overcome with self pity. Orlean then rebuked Ethel
and chided her father. But the part which escaped her,
was that Ethel defended her mate, while Orlean suffered to
have hers rebuked at will. The greatest reason why Ethel
and her father could not agree, as was well known, was that
they were too much alike.

When Jean Baptiste had completed his barn, and his wife
was out of danger, according to the doctor but would
never be according to the Elder who insisted that the only
cure would be for her to return to Chicago with them,
he was ready to go to work. His wife wanted to go to
Chicago, for what the Reverend had done to her in the
days he had sat by her and professed his great love, would
have made her wish to go anywhere to appease him for
even a day.

"Now, after the expense we have been to," said Baptiste,
"I hardly know whether I can let you go to Chicago or
not."

The Elder sighed, and said to her low enough for her
husband's ears not to hear:" Just listen to that. After all
I have done! Then I will have to pay your way to Chicago
where I shall endeavor to save your life, your dear life
which this man is trying to grind out of you to get rich."

"But I'll think it over," said Baptiste." We have lots of
work this summer, and will try to get caught up," and the
next moment he was gone.

"Did you hear that, daughter?" said the Reverend, now aloud, when the

other's back was turned. " Oh, it's awful,
the man you have married! Just crazy, crazy to get rich!
And puts you after his work; after his horses; after his
everything! And after all your poor old father has done
for you," whereupon he let escape another sigh, and fell into
tears of self pity.

Orlean stroked his head and swallowed what she would
have offered in defense of the man she had married. It
was useless to offer defense, he had broken this down long
since.

"Yes, he is wanting to kill, to kill my poor daughter after
all she has sacrificed," he sobbed," and when you are dead
and in your grave like your baby is out in this wild
'country," his voice was breaking now with sobs," he will up
and marry another woman to enjoy the fruits of your sacrifice!" He was lost in his own tears then, and could say
no more.

"Now, dear," she suddenly heard her husband, and looked
up to find that he had returned. He stooped and kissed her
fondly, and then went on : "I am going up to my sister's
homestead to start the men to work with the engine breaking the land and I must haul them the coal, which I will
get at Colome. Now I will not be back for several days,
but will make up my mind in the meantime as to whether I
can let you go to Chicago or not."

"All right, dear," she said, raising from the bed and
caressing him long and lingeringly. She could not under-
stand how much she wanted him then, it seemed that she
could hold him so forever. She kissed him again and again,
and as he passed out of the room she looked after him long
and lingeringly, and upon her face was a heavenly smile as he
passed out of sight and disappeared over the hill. As he did
so, the Elder got from his position at the other side of the
bed, went to the door, and also watched him out sight. As
he turned away, Baptiste's grandmother who had fed many
a preacher back there in old Illinois, the Reverend included,
started. She had seen his face, and what she had seen
therein had frightened her. When he went back into the
room and to the bed where Orlean lay, she dropped by the
table and buried her face in her old arms and sobbed, long
and silently. And a close observer could have heard these
shaken words:

"Poor Jean, poor Jean, poor Orlean, oh, poor Orlean!
You made all the fight you could but you were weak. You
were doomed before you started, for he knew you and knew
you were weak. But would to God that the world could end
today, for it will end tomorrow for you two. Poor Orlean,
poor Jean!"