Full text of "Blood will tell; the strange story of a son of Ham"

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S. G. and E. L. ELBERT

Jtrcstitbtl kit ELLA SMITH "ELBERT 188.

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in 2013

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^HE brutalized features of Walter Burton
were revealed."

Frontispiece

DEDICATION

To all Americans who deem purity
of race an all-important element in
the progress of our beloved country.

THE AUTHOR

For obvious reasons the date
of this story is not given . . .

2U$t of Jlluattattons;

"ATHE brutalized features of Walter Burton
were revealed.

Frontispiece

" jf UCY passed her soft, white arm around
her grandfather's neck."

Page 108

"j|E recklessly rushed in front of Burton."

*c Page 286

"JL UCY, I have always loved you/'

Page 340

BLOOD WILL TELL

BOSTON was shrouded in a mantle of
mist that November day, the north-east
wind bringing at each blast re-enforce-
ment to the all-enveloping and obscuring mass
of gloom that embraced the city in its arms of
darkness.

' Glimmering like toy candles in the distance,
electric lights, making halos of the fog, marked
a pathway for the hurrying crowds that poured
along the narrow, crooked streets of New En-
gland's grand old city. In one of the oldest,
narrowest and most crooked thoroughfares
down near the wharfs a light burning within the
window of an old-fashioned building brought to
sight the name "J- Dimlap" and the words "Ship-
ping and Banking."

No living man in Boston nor the father of any
man in Boston had ever known a day when pass-

BLOOD WILL TELL

ing that old house the sign had not been there
for him to gaze upon and lead him to wonder if
the Dunlap line would last unbroken forever.

In early days of the Republic some Dunlap
had in a small way traded with the West Indian
islands, especially Haiti, and later some descen-
dant of 'this old trade pathfinder had established
a regular line of sailing ships between Boston
and those islands. Then it was that the sign
"J. Dunlap, Shipping and Banking" made its
appearance on the front of the old house. A
maxim of the Dunlap family had been that there
must always be a J. Dunlap, hence sons were
ever christened John, James, Josiah and such
names only as furnished the everlasting J as the
initial.

"J. Dunlap" had grown financially and com-
mercially in proportion to the growth of the Re-
public. There was not room on a single line in
the Commercial Agency books to put A's enough
to express the credit and financial resources of
"J- Dunlap" on this dark November day. Abso-
lutely beyond the shoals and shallows of the
dangerous shore of trade where small crafts

BLOOD WILL TELL

financially are forced to ply, "J. Dunlap" sailed
ever tranquil and serene, neither jars nor shocks
disturbing the calm serenity of the voyage.

This dismal November day marked an unpar-
alleled experience in the career of the present "J.
Dunlap." The customary calm was disturbed. J.
Dunlap disagreed and disagreed positively with
J. Dunlap concerning an important event, and
that event was a family affair.

The exterior of "J- Dunlap" may be dark,
grimy, dingy and old, but within all is bright
with electric light. Behind glass and wire screens
long lines of clerks and accountants bend over
desks and busy pens move across the pages of
huge ledgers and account books — messengers
hurry in and out of two glass partitioned offices.
On the door of one is painted "Mr. Burton, Man-
ager ;" on the other "Mr. Chapman, Superintend-
ent."

Separated by a narrow passageway from the
main office is a large room, high ceiling, old-
fashioned, furnished with leather and mahogany
fittings of ancient make, on the door of which
are the words, "J. Dunlap, Private Office." This

BLOOD WILL TELL

is the sanctum sanctorum in this temple of trade.
Within "J- Dunlap's" private office before a large
grate heaped high with blazing cannel coal two
old men are seated in earnest conversation. They
are "J. Dunlap."

Seventy-two years before this November day
that enfolded Boston with London-like fog there
were born to one J. Dunlap and his wife twin
boys to whom were given in due season the
names of James and John. These boys had grown
to manhood preserving the same likeness to each
other that they had possessed as infants in the
cradle. James married early and when his son
was born and was promptly made a J. Dunlap,
his twin brother vowed that there being a J.
Dunlap to secure the perpetuation of the name,
he should never marry.

When the J. Dunlap, father of the twin broth-
ers, died, the twins succeeded to the business as
well as the other property of their father, share
and share alike. To change the name on the
office window to Dunlap Bros, was never even
dreamed of; such sacrilege would surely have
caused the rising in wrath of the long line of

BLOOD WILL TELL

ghostly "J. Dunlaps" that had preceded the twins.
Hence on this dark day "J- Dunlap" was two in-
stead of one.

Handsome men were all the Dunlaps time out
of mind, but no ancestor was ever more hand-
some than the two clean cut, stalwart, white
haired old men who with eager gestures and
earnest voices discussed the point of difference
between them today.

"My dear brother," said the one whose face
bore traces of a more burning sun than warms
the Berkshire hills, ' 'You know that we have never
differed even in trivial matters, and James, it is
awful to think of anything that could even be
called a disagreement, but I loved your poor boy
John as much as I have ever loved you and when
he died his motherless little girl became more to
me than even you, James, and it hurts my heart
to think of my darling Lucy being within pos-
sible reach of sorrow and shame." The fairer
one of the brothers bent over and grasping with
both hands the raised hand of him who had
spoken said with an emotion that rilled his eyes
with moisture :

BLOOD WILL TELL

"God bless you, John! You dear old fellow!
I know that that loving heart of yours held my
poor boy as near to it as did my own, and that
Lucy has ever been the dearest jewel of your
great soul, but your love and tenderness are now
conjuring up imaginary dangers that are simply
beyond a possibility of existence. While I will
not go so far as to admit that had I known that
there was a trace of negro blood in Burton I
should have forbidden his paying court to my
granddaughter, still I will confess that I should
have considered that fact and consulted with you
before consenting to his seeking Lucy's hand.
However, it is too late now,, John. He has won
our girl's heart and knowing her as you do you
must appreciate the consequences of the disclo-
sure of this discovery and the abrupt termina-
tion of her blissful anticipations. It is not only
a question of the health and happiness of our
dear girl, but her very life would be placed in
jeopardy."

This seemed an unexpected or unrealized
phase of the situation to the first speaker, for he
made no reply at once but sat with troubled

BLOOD WILL TELL

brow gazing into the fire for several minutes,
then with a sigh so deep that it was almost a
groan, exclaimed :

"Oh! that I had known sooner! I am an old
fool! I might have suspected this and investi-
gated Burton's family. John Dunlap, d n

you for the old idiot that you are," and rising he
began pacing the floor; his brother watched
him with eyes of tender, almost womanly affec-
tion until a suspicious moisture dimmed the
sight of his worried second self. Going to him
and taking him by the arm he joined him in his
walk back and forth through the room, saying:

"John, don't worry yourself so much old chap,
there is nothing to fear; what if there be a slight
strain of negro blood in Burton? It will disap-
pear in his descendants and even did Lucy know
all that you have learned, she loves him and
would marry him anyhow. You know her heart
and her high sense of justice. She would not
blame him and really it is no fault of his."

"You say," broke in his brother, "that the negro
blood will disappear in Burton's descendants?
That is just what may not happen! Both in the

BLOOD WILL TELL

United States and Haiti I have seen cases of
breeding back to the type of a remote ancestor
where negro blood, no matter how little, ran in
the veins of the immediate ancestor. In the ani-
mal kingdom see the remoteness of the five toed
horse, yet even now sometimes a horse is born
with five toes. Man is but an animal of the high-
est grade."

"Well, even granting what you say about the
remote possibility of breeding back, you know
that our ancestors years ago stood shoulder to
shoulder with Garrison, Beecher and those grand
heroes who maintained that the enslavement of
the negro was a crime, and that the color of the
skin made no difference — -that all men were
brothers and equal. "

"Yes, I know and agree with our forefathers
in all of that," exclaimed the sun burned J. Dun-
lap with some show of impatience. "But while
slavery was all wrong and equality before the
law is absolutely right, still I have seen both in
this country and in the West Indies such strange
evidence of the inherent barbarism in the negro
race that I am almost ready to paraphrase a

BLOOD WILL TELL

saying of Napoleon and declare, 'Scratch one
with negro blood in him and you find a bar-
barian.' "

"Your long residence in disorderly Haiti,
where your health and our interest kept you has
evidently prejudiced you," replied the fair J.
Dunlap. "Remember that for generations our
family has extended the hospitality of our homes
to those of negro blood provided they were edu-
cated, cultured people/'

"Yes, James, Yes ! Provided they had the cul-
ture and education created by the white man, and
to be frank between ourselves, James, there has
been much affectation about the obliteration of
race distinction even in the case of our own fam-
ily, and you know it! We Dunlaps have made
much of our apparent liberality and consistency,
but in our hearts we are as much race-proud
Aryans as those ancestors who drove the race-
inferior Turanians out of Europe."

James Dunlap was as honest as his more im-
petuous brother. Suddenly stopping and con-
fronting him with agitated countenance, he said :
"You are right, John, in what you say about

BLOOD WILL TELL

our affecting social equality with those of negro
blood. God knows had I been aware of the facts
that you have hastened from Port au Prince to
lay before me all might have been different ; our
accursed affectation may have misled Burton,
who is an honorable gentleman, no matter if his
mother was an quadroon. Social equality may
be all right, but where it leads to the intermar-
riage of the races all the Aryan in me protests
against it, but it is too late and we must trust to
Divine Providence to correct the consequences
of the Dunlap's accursed affectation."

"I expected Lucy to marry Jack Dunlap, the

son of our cousin ; then the old sign might have

answered for another hundred years. Lucy and

Jack were fond of each other always, and I

thought when two years ago I left Boston for

Haiti that the match was quite a settled affair.

Why did you not foster a marriage that would

have been so satisfactory from every standpoint ?"

"I did hope that Lucy would marry your

namesake, dear brother; don't blame me; while

I believe that the boy was really fond of my

granddaughter, still, being poor, and having the

BLOOD WILL TELL

Dunlap pride he positively declined the position
in our office that I offered him. I wished to keep
him near Lucy and to prepare him to succeed us
as 7- Dunlap.' When I made the offer he said in
that frank, manly, sailor man fashion of his that
he was worthless in an office and he wished no
sinecure by reason of being our kinsman ; that he
was a sailor by nature and loved the sea; that he
wished to make his own way in the world; that
if we could fairly advance him in his profession
he would thank us, but that was all that he could
accept at our hands."

'"'See that now !" exclaimed the listener. "Blood
will tell. The blood of some old Yankee sailor
man named Dunlap spoke when our young kins-
man made that reply. Breed back! Yes indeed
we do."

"No persuasion could move the boy from the
position he had taken and as he held a master's
certificate and had proven a careful mate I gave
him command of our ship 'Lucy' in the China
trade. I imagine there was some exhibition of
feeling at the parting of Lucy and John, as my
girl seemed much depressed in spirits after he
left.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"You recall how Walter Burton came to us fif-
teen years ago with a letter from his father, our
correspondent in Port au Prince, saying that he
wished his son to enter Harvard and asking us to
befriend him. The lad was handsome and clever
and we never dreamed of his being other than of
pure blood. He was graduated at the head of his
class, brilliant, amiable, fascinating. Our house
was made bright by his frequent visits.

"When his father died, leaving his great wealth
to Walter, he begged to invest it with us, and lik-
ing the lad we were glad to have him with us.
Beginning at the bottom, by sheer force of ability
and industry, within ten years he has become our
manager. I am sure John Dunlap, your name-
sake, never told Lucy that he loved her before he
sailed for China. The pride of the man would
hold back such a declaration to our heiress. So
with Jack away, his love, if it exist, for Lucy
untold, it is not strange that Burton, and he is a
most charming man, in constant attendance upon
my granddaughter should have won her heart.
He is handsome, educated, cultured and wealthy.
I could imagine no cause for an objection, so

BLOOD WILL TELL

when he asked for Lucy's hand I assented. The
arrangements are completed and they will be mar-
ried next month. Lucy wished you to witness the
ceremony and wrote you and you hasten from
Haiti home with this unpleasant discovery. Now,
John, think of Lucy and tell me, brother, what
your heart says is our duty."

James Dunlap, exhausted by the vehement
earnestness that he had put into this long speech,
recounting the events and circumstances that had
led up to the approaching marriage of his grand-
daughter, dropped into one of the large armchairs
near the fire, waiting for a reply, while his brother
continued his nervous tramp across the room.

Silence was finally disturbed by a light knock
on the door and a messenger entered, saying that
Captain Dunlap begged permission to speak with
the firm a few moments. When the name was an-
nounced the two brothers exchanged glances that
seemed to say, "The man I was thinking of."

"Show him in, of course," cried John Dunlap,
eagerly stopping in his monotonous pacing up
and down the room.

The door opened again and there entered the

BLOOD WILL TELL

room a man of about twenty-seven years of age,
rather below the medium height of Americans,
but of such breadth of shoulders and depth of
chest as to give evidence of unusual physical
strength. A sailor, every inch a sailor, anyone
could tell, from the top of his curly blonde hair
to the sole of his square toed boots. His sun-
burnt face, while not handsome, according to the
ideals of artists, was frank, manly, bold — a brave,
square jawed Anglo-Saxon face, with eyes of that
steely gray that can become as tender as a
mother's and as fierce as a tiger's.

"Come in, Jack," cried both of the old gentle-
men together.

"Glad to see you my boy," added John Dunlap.
"How did you find your good mother and the
rest of our friends in Bedford ? I only landed to-
day; came from Port au Prince to see the Com-
mons once more; heard that the 'Lucy' and her
brave master, my namesake, had arrived a week

ahead of me, safe and sound, from East Indian
waters."

So saying he grasped both of the sailor's hands
and shook them with the genuine cordiality of a
lad of sixteen.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Have you seen my granddaughter since your
return, Captain Jack ?" inquired James Dunlap, as
he shook the young man's hand.

"I was so unfortunate as to call when she was
out shopping, and as Mrs. Church, the house-
keeper, told me that she was so busy preparing
for the approaching wedding that she was en-
gaged all the time, I have hesitated to call again,"
replied the sailor, as with a somewhat deeper
shade of red in his sun burned face he seated him-
self between the twins.

"Lucy will not thank Mrs. Church for that
speech if it is to deprive her of the pleasure of
welcoming her old playmate and cousin back to
Boston and home. You must come and dine
with us tomorrow," said Lucy's grandfather.

"I am much obliged for your kind invitation,
sir, but if you will only grant the request I am
about to make of the firm, my next visit to my
cousin will be to say goodby, as well as to re-
ceive a welcome home from a voyage."

"Why, what do you mean, lad !" exclaimed both
of the brothers simultaneously.

Concealment or deception was probably the

— IIMI — ■■ll—HIIM I'll III II II II Mill

BLOOD WILL TELL

most difficult of all things for this frank man
with 'the free spirit of the sea fresh in his soul, so
that while he answered the color surged up
stronger and stronger in his face until the white
brow, saved from the sun by his hat, was as red
as his close shaven cheeks.

"Well, sir, this is what I mean. I learned yes-
terday that the storm we encountered crossing
the Atlantic coming home had strained my ship
so badly that it will be two months before she is
out of the shipwright's hands."

"What of 'that, Jack," broke in the darker J.
Dunlap. "Take a rest at home. I know your
mother will be delighted, and speaking from a
financial standpoint, as you know, it makes not
the least difference."

"I was going to add, sir, that this morning I
learned that Captain Chadwick of your ship
'Adams,' now loaded and ready to sail for Aus-
tralia, was down with pneumonia and could not
take the ship out, and that there was some diffi-
culty in securing a master that filled the require-
ments of your house. I therefore applied to Mr.
Burton for the command of the 'Adams,' but he

BLOOD WILL TELL

absolutely refused to consider the application
saying that as I had been away for almost two
years, that it would be positively brutal to even
permit me to go to sea again so soon, and that
the 'Adams' might stay loaded and tied to the
dock ten years rather than I should leave home
so speedily."

"Burton is exactly right, I endorse every word
he has said. You can't have the 'Adams' !" said
James Dunlap with emphasis. "What would
Martha Dunlap, your mother, and our dear
cousin's widow, think if we robbed her of her only
son so soon after his return from a long absence
from home?"

"My mother knows, sir, that my stay at home
will be very brief. She expects me to ask to go
to sea again almost immediately. I told her all
about it when I first met her upon my return,"
and as he spoke the shipmaster's gaze was never
raised from the nautical cap that he held in his
hand.

"Well! You are not going to sea again im-
mediately, that is all about it. You have handled
the 'Lucy' for two years, away from home, using

BLOOD WILL TELL

your own judgment, in a manner that, even were
you not our kinsman, would entitle you to a long
rest at the expense of our house as grateful ship-
owners," said Lucy's grandfather.

The young man giving no heed to the compli-
ment contained in the remarks made by James
.Dunlap, but looking up and straight into the eyes
of the brother just arrived from Haiti, said so
earnestly that there could be no question of his
purpose :

"I wish to get to sea as soon as possible. If I
cannot sail in the 'Adams,' much as I dislike to
leave you, sirs, I must seek other employ."

"The devil you will!" exclaimed his godfather
angrily.

"Why, if you sail now you will miss your
cousin's wedding and disappoint her," added
James Dunlap.

"Again, gentlemen, I say that I shall get to
sea within a few days. I either go in the 'Adams'
or seek other employ," and all the time he was
speaking not once did the sailor remove his
steady gaze from the eyes of him for whom he
\vas named.

umurewgiT yrnnywanmn

BLOOD WILL TELL

_ — -., .._- —,..— ■■"■■"— ———^——

To say that the Dunlap brothers were aston-
ished is putting it too mildly; they were amazed.
The master of a Dunlap ship was an object of
envy to every shipmaster out of Boston — the pay
and employ was the best in America — that a kins-
man and master should even propose to leave
their employ was monstrous. In amazement both
of the old gentlemen looked at the young man in
silence.

Suddenly as old John Dunlap looked into
young John Dunlap's honest eyes he read some-
thing there, for first leaning forward in his chair
and gazing more intently into the gray eyes of the
sailor, he sprang to his feet and grasping the arm
of his young kinsman he fairly hauled him to the
window at the other end of the room, then facing
him around so that he could get a good look at his
face, he almost whispered:

"Jack, when did you learn first that Lucy was
to be married?"

"When I came ashore at Boston one week
ago."

The answer came so quickly that the question
must have been read in the eyes of the older man
before uttered.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"I thought so," said the old man softly and
sadly, as he walked, still holding the sailor by
the arm, back to the fire, and added as he neared
his brother :

"James, Jack wants the 'Adams' and is in earn-
est. I can't have him leave our employ ; therefore
he must go as master of that ship."

"But, brother, think of it," exclaimed James
Dunlap.

"There is no but about it, James, I wish him
to sail in our ship, the 'Adams,' as master. I un-
derstand his desire and endorse his wish to get
to sea."

"Oh ! Of course if you really are in earnest
just instruct Burton in the premises, but Jack
must dine with us tomorrow and see Lucy or
she will never forgive him or me."

"Don't you see that the lad has always loved
Lucy, is heartbroken over her marriage and wants
to get away before the wedding?" cried John
Dunlap, as he turned after closing the door upon
Captain Jack's departing figure.

"What a blind old fool I am not to have seen
or thought of that !" exclaimed his brother.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"How I wish in my soul it was our cousin
that my girl was going to marry instead of Bur-
ton, but it is too late, too late.',

Sadly the darker Dunlap brother echoed the
words of Lucy's grandfather, as he sank into a
chair and covered his face with his hands :

Too late ! Too late ! Too late !

II.

YOU don't mean that Mr. Dunlap has con-
sented to your going out to Australia in
charge of the 'Adams/ do you, Captain
Jack?"

The man who asked the question, as he rose
from the desk at which he was sitting, was quite
half a head taller than the sea captain whom he
addressed. His figure was elegant and graceful,
though slim; his face possessed that rare beauty
seen only on the canvas of old Italian masters,
clearly cut features, warm olive complexion in
which the color of the cheeks shows in subdued
mellow shadings, soft, velvet-like brown eyes, a
mouth of almost feminine character and propor-
tion filled with teeth as regular and white as
grains of rice.

Save only that the white surrounding the
brown of his beautiful eyes might have been
clearer, that his shapely hands might have been

■I — — — — —— ^^—— ■

BLOOD WILL TELL .

more perfect, had a bluish tinge not marred the
color of his finger nails, and his small feet might
have been improved by more height of instep,
Walter Burton was an ideal picture of a graceful,
handsome, cultivated gentleman.

"Yes, Mr. Burton, I am to sail as master of
the 'Adams.' How soon can I get a clearance
and put to sea ?"

"It is an absolute outrage to permit you to go
to sea again so soon. Why, Captain, you have
had hardly time to get your shore legs. You have
not seen many of your old friends ; Miss Dunlap
told me last evening that she had not even seen
you."

Burton's voice was as soft, sweet and melo-
dious as the tones of a silver flute, and the
thought of the young sailor's brief stay at home
seemed to strike a chord of sadness that gave
added charm to the words he uttered.

"I expect to dine with my cousin tomorrow eve-
ning and will then give her greeting upon my
home coming and at the same time bid her good-
by upon my departure."

"I declare, Jack, this is awfully sad to me, old

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chap, and I know Lucy will be sorely disappoint-
ed. You know that we are to be married next
month and Lucy has said a dozen times that she
wished you to be present; that you had always
been a tower of strength to her and that nothing
could alarm or make her nervous if, as she put it,
'brave and 'trustworthy Jack be near/ "

The sailor's face lost some of its color in spite
of the tan that sun and sea had given it, as he
listened to words that he had heard Lucy say
when, as a boy and girl, they had climbed New
Hampshire's' hills, or sailed along Massachusetts'
coast together.

"I shall be sorry if Lucy be disappointed, but
I am so much of a sea-swab now that I am rest-
less and unhappy while ashore."

What a poor liar young John Dunlap was. His
manner, or something, not his words, in that in-
stant revealed his secret to Burton, as a flash of
lightning in the darkness discloses a scene, so was
Jack's story and reason for hurried departure
from Boston made plain.

By some yet unexplained process of mental
telegraphy the two young men understood each

■■■■■^■■^■■■■■■■wrMWBTirwii««n««a(m»minnriT«i-i<)-iii¥iir ii i — — — — n i —

BLOOD WILL TELL

other. Spontaneously they extended their hands
and in their warm clasp a bond of silent sympathy
was established. Thus they stood for a moment,
then Burton said in that sad, sweet voice of his :

"Jack, dear old chap, I will get your clearance
papers tomorrow and you may put to sea when
you please, but see Lucy before you sail."

Ere Dunlap could reply the door of the man-
ager's office opened and there entered the room
a man of such peculiar appearance as to attract
the attention of the most casual observer. He
was thin, even to emaciation. The skin over his
almost hairless head seemed drawn as tightly as
the covering of a drum. The ghastliness of his
dead-white face was made more apparent by the
small gleaming black eyes set deep and close to
a huge aquiline nose, and the scarlet, almost
bloody stripe that marked the narrow line of his
lips.

"Beg pardon," said the man, seeing someone
with Burton, and then, recognizing who the visi-
tor was, added :

"Oh, how are you, Jack ? I did not know that
you were with the manager," and he seemed to

BLOOD WILL TELL

put the faintest bit of emphasis upon the word
"manager."

"Well, what is it, Chapman?" said Burton
somewhat impatiently.

"I only wished to inform you that I have se-
cured a mas'ter for the 'Adams.' Captain Mason,
who was formerly in our employ, has applied for
the position and as he was satisfactory when with
us before I considered it very fortunate for us to
secure his services just now."

"The 'Adams' has a master already assigned
to her," interrupted the manager.

"Why! When? Who?" inquired the superin-
tendent eagerly.

"The 'Adams' sails in command of Captain
Dunlap here."

The gleaming black eyes of Chapman seemed
to bury their glances into the very heart of the
manager as he stretched his thin neck forward

and asked:

"Did you give him the ship?"

"J. Dunlap made the assignment of Captain
Jack to the ship today at his own request and
contrary to my wishes," said Burton abruptly,
somewhat annoyed at Chapman's manner.

BLOOD WILL TELL

It was now the turn of Jack to stand the "bat-
tery of those hawk eyes of the superintendent,
who sought to read the honest sailor's soul as he
shot his glances into Jack's clear gray eyes.

"Ah ! Cousin Jack going away so soon and our
Miss Lucy's wedding next month. How
strange !" Chapman seemed speaking to himself.
"If that is all, Chapman, just say to Mason
that the firm appointed a master to the 'Adams'
without your knowledge ; therefore he can't have
the ship," said Burton with annoyance in his tone
and manner, dismissing the superintendent with a
wave of his hand toward the door.

When Chapman glided out of the room, the
man moved always in such a stealthy manner
that he appeared to glide instead of walk, Burton
exclaimed :

"Do you know, Jack, that that man Chapman
can irritate me more by his detective demeanor
than any man I ever saw could do by open insult.
I am ashamed of myself for allowing such to be
the case, but I can't help it. To have a chap about
who seems to be always playing the Sherlock
Holmes act is wearing on one's patience. Why,

BLOOD WILL TELL

confound it ! If he came in this minute to say
that we needed a new supply of postage stamps
he would make such a detective job of it that I
should feel the uncomfortable sensation that the
mailing clerk had stolen the last lot purchased."

Jack, who disliked the sneaky and secretive as
much as any man alive and had just been irritated
himself by Chapman's untimely scrutiny, said :

"I am not astonished and don't blame you.
While I have known Chapman all my life, I
somehow, as a boy and man, have always felt
when talking to him that I was undergoing an
examination before a police magistrate."

"Of course I ought to consider that he has
been with the house for more than forty years
and is fidelity and faithfulness personified to 'J.
Dunlap,' but he is so absurdly jealous and sus-
picious that he would wear out the patience of a
saint, and I don't pretend to be one," supplement-
ed Burton.

"Half the time," said Jack, glad apparently to
discuss Chapman and thus avoid the subject
which beneath the surface of their conversation
was uppermost in the minds of both Burton and
himself.

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"I have not the slightest idea what 'Old
Chap,' as I call him, is driving at. He
goes hunting a hundred miles away for the end of
a coil of rope that is lying at his very feet, and he
is the very devil, too, for finding out anything he
wishes to know. Why, when I was a boy and
used to get into scrapes, if 'Old Chap' cornered
me I knew it was no use trying to get out of the
mess and soon learned to plead guilty at once,"
and Jack smiled in a dreary kind of way at the
recollection of some of his boyish pranks.

"Well, let old Chapman, the modern Sherlock
Holmes, and his searching disposition go for the
present. Promise to be sure to dine with Lucy
tomorrow evening. She expects me to be there
also, as she is going to have one or two young
women and needs some of the male sex to talk
to them. I know that she will want you all to
herself," said Burton.

"Yes, I'll be on hand all right tomorrow night
and you get my papers in shape during the day,
as I will sail as early day after tomorrow as the
tide serves," replied the captain.

"By the way, Jack ! Send your steward to me

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when you go aboard to take charge of the
'Adams' in the morning. Tell him to see me
personally. You sailors are such queer chaps
and care so little about your larder that I am
going to see to it myself that you don't eat salt
pork and hard tack on your voyage out, nor drink
bilge water, either."

"You are awfully kind, Burton, but you need
not trouble yourself. I am sure common sea grub
is good enough for any sailor-man."

As they walked together toward the front door,
when Captain Jack was leaving the building, in
the narrow aisle between the long rows of desks
they came face to face with the superintendent.
He stepped aside and gazing after them, whis-
pered :

"Strange, very strange, for Jack Dunlap to
sail so soon."

"Be sure to send that steward of yours to me
tomorrow, Jack," called the manager of "J. Dun-
lap" as the sturdy figure of the sailor disappeared
in the fog that filled the crooked street in which
Boston's oldest shipping and banking house had
its office.

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— — — — — ■

"And no ship ever sailed from Boston provided
as yours- shall be, poor old chap/' muttered the
manager as he hurried back to his own room in
the office. "There shall be champagne enough
on board the 'Adams,' Jack, to drink our health,
if you so will, on our wedding day, even though
you be off Cape Good Hope."

>js ^c * * * 5J{ #

In the gloaming that dark November day the
Dunlap brothers were seated close together, side
by side, in silence gazing into the heap of coals
that burned in the large grate before them.
John Dunlap's hand rested upon the arm of his
brother, as if in the mere touching of him who
had first seen the light in his company there was
comfort.

Burton thought, as he entered the private of-
fice that no finer picture was ever painted than
that made by these two fine old American gen-
tlemen as the flame from the crackling cannel
coal shot up, revealing their kind, gentle, gen-
erous faces in the surrounding gloom of the
room.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," said the manager,

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pausing on the threshold, hesitating to break in
upon a scene that seemed almost sacred, "but I
was told that you had sent for me while I was
out of the office/'

"Come in, Burton, you were correctly in-
formed," said James Dunlap, still neither chang-
ing his position nor removing his gaze from the
fire.

"My brother John and I have determined as a
mark of love for our young kinsman, Captain
John Dunlap,- and as an evidence of our apprecia-
tion for faithful services rendered to us as mate
and master, to make him a present of our ship
'Adams/ now loaded for Australia," continued
James Dunlap, speaking very low and very soft-

"You will please have the necessary papers for
the transfer made out tonight. We will execute
them in the morning and you will see that the
proper entry is made upon the register at the
custom house. Have the full value of the ship
charged to the private accounts of my brother
John and myself, as the gift is a personal affair
of ours and others interested in our house must

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be fully indemnified," continued the old man as
he turned his eyes and met his brother's assenting
look.

The flame blazing up in the grate at that mo-
ment cast its light on Burton's flushed face as he
listened to the closing sentence of Mr. James
Dunlap's instructions.

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not comprehend
what you mean by 'others interested in our house.'
I believe other than yourselves I alone have the
honor to hold an interest in your house," and
moving forward in the firelight where he would
stand before the brothers he continued, almost in-
dignantly, his voice vibrating with emotion :

"You do me bitter, cruel injustice if you think
that I do not wish, nay more, earnestly beg, to
join in this gift. I have learned that today that
would urge me to plead for permission to share
in this deed were it of ten times the value of the
'Adams.' "

Quickly old John Dunlap, rising from his chair,
placing his hand on Burton's shoulder and re-
garding him kindly, said :

"I am glad to hear you say that, Burton, very

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glad. It proves your heart to be right, but it
cannot be as you wish. Jack is so sensitive even
about receiving aid from us, his kinsmen, that
you must conceal the matter from him, put the
transfer and new registration with his clearance
papers and tell him it is our wish that they be
not opened until he is one week at sea."

"Could the transfer not be made just in the
name of the house without explanation? He
might never think of my being interested," urged
the manager eagerly.

"You are mistaken, Walter," said James Dun-
lap. "Within a month you might see the 'Adams'
sailing back into Boston harbor. I am sorry to
deny you the exercise of your generous impulse ;
we appreciate the intent, but think it best not to
hamper a gift to this proud fellow with anything
that might cause its rejection."

Burton, realizing the truth of the position
taken by the brothers and the hopelessness of
gaining Jack Dunlap's consent to be placed
under obligations to one not of his own blood,
could offer no further argument upon the subject.
Dejected and disappointed he turned to leave the

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room to accomplish the wishes expressed by the
twins. As he reached the door John Dunlap
called to him.

''Hold on a minute, Burton. Have we any in-
terest in the cargo of the 'Adams ?' "

"About one-quarter of her cargo is agricultural
implements consigned to our Australian agent for
the account of the house," quickly answered the
manager.

*' Charge that invoice to me and assign it to
Jack."

''Charge it jointly to us both," added James
Dunlap.

"No you don't, James ! We only agreed on the
ship. John is my godson and namesake. I have
a right to do more than anyone else," exultantly
cried the kind hearted old fellow, and for the first
time that day he laughed as he slapped his brother
on the shoulder and thought of how he had got-
ten ahead of him.

Burton was obliged to smile at the sudden
anxiety of Mr. John to get rid of him when Mr.
James began to protest against his brother's sel-
fishness in wishing to have no partner in the gift
of the cargo.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Now, you just hurry up those papers, Burton.
Yes, hurry! Run along! Yes, Yes," and so
saying old Mr. John fairly rushed him out of the
room.

"How I wish I were Captain Jack's uncle, too,"
thought Burton sadly, with a heart full of gener-
ous sympathy for the man who he knew loved
the woman that ere a month would be Mrs.
Burton.

III.

OME men have one hobby, some have
many and some poor wretches have
none. David Chapman had three hob-
bies and they occupied his whole mind and heart.
First in place and honor was the house of J.
Dunlap. "The pillared firmanent" might fall but
his fidelity to the firm which he had served for
forty years could never fail. His was the fierce
and jealous love of the tigress for her cub where
the house of Dunlap was concerned. He actually
suffered, as from mortal hurt, when any one or
any thing seemed to separate him from this great
object of his adoration.

He had ever regarded the ownership of even
a small interest by Walter Burton as an indig-
nity, ah outrage and a sacrilege. He hated him
for defiling the chiefest idol of his religion and
life. He was jealous of him because he sepa-
rated in a manner the worshiper from the wor-
shiped.

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Because solely of jealous love for this High
Joss of his, Chapman would have gladly, cheer-
fully suffered unheard of agonies to rid
the house of J. Dunlap of this irreverent inter-
loper who did not bear the sacred name of
Dunlap.

The discovery of anything concealed, unrav-
elling a mystery, ferreting out a secret was the
next highest hobby in Chapman's trinity of hob-
bies. He was passionately fond of practicing
the theory of deduction, and was marvelously
successful at arriving at correct conclusions.
No crime, no mystery furnished a sensation for
the Boston newspapers that did not call into play
the exercise of this the second and most peculiar
hobby of Chapman.

By some strange freak of nature in compound-
ing the elements to form the character of David
Chapman, an inordinate love for music was
added to the incongruous mixture, and became
the man's third and most harmless hobby. Chap-
man had devoted years to the study of music,
from pure love of sweet and melodious sounds.
In the great and musical city of Boston no one

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excelled him as master of his favorite instru-
ment, the violoncello. Like Balzac's Herr
Smucker, in his hours of relaxation, he bathed
himself in the flood of his own melody.

Chapman owned, he was not poor, and occu-
pied with his spinster sister, who was almost as
withered as himself, a house well down in the
business section of the city. He could not be
induced to live in the more desirable suburbs.
They were too far from the temple of his chiefest
idol, the house of J. Dunlap.

"Jack Dunlap sails as master of our ship
'Adams' day after tomorrow," suggested Chap-
man meditatively, as he sipped his tea and
glanced across the table at the dry, almost fos-
silized, prim, starchy, old lady seated opposite
him in his comfortable dining room that evening.

"Impossible, David, the boy has only just ar-
rived."

And the little old lady seemed to pick at the
words as she uttered them much as a sparrow
does at crumbs of bread.

"It is not impossible for it is a fact," replied
her brother dryly.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"What is the reason for his sudden departure ?
Did the house order him to sea again?" pecked
out the sister.

"No, that is the strange part of the affair.
Jack himself especialy urged his appointment to
the ship sailing day after tomorrow/'

"Then it is to get away from Boston before
Lucy is married. I believe he is in love with
her and can't bear to see her marry Burton."

Oh ! boastful man, with all your assumed supe-
riority in the realm of reason and your deductive
theories and synthetical systems for forming cor-
rect conclusions. You are but a tyro, a mere
infant in that great field of feeling where love
is crowned king. The most withered, stale, neg-
lected being in whose breast beats a woman's
heart, by that mysterious and sympathetic some-
thing called intuition can lead you like the child
that you are in this, woman's own province.

"You are entirely wrong, Arabella, as usual.
Jack never thought of Miss Lucy in that way;
besides he and Burton are exceedingly friendly ;
can't you make it convenient to visit your friends
in Bedford and see Martha Dunlap? If any-

BLOOD WILL TELL

thing 'be wrong with Jack, and I can help him, I
shall be glad to do so. The mother may be more
communicative than the son."

"I will surely make the attempt to learn if any-
thing be wrong, and gladly, too; I have always
loved that boy Jack, and if he be in trouble I
want you to help him all in your power, David."
The little old maid's face flushed in the earnest-
ness of the expression.

"Burton is still an unsolved problem to me,"
and in saying the words Chapman's jaws moved
with a kind of snap, like a steel trap, while his
"eyes had the glitter of a serpent's in them as he
continued, "for years I have observed him closely
and I cannot make him out at all. I am baffled
by sudden changes of mood in the man ; at times
he is reckless, gay, thoughtless, frivolous, and
I sometimes think lacking in moral stamina ;
again he is dignified, kind, courteous, reserved
and seems to possess the highest standard of
morals."

"I don't suppose that he is unlike other men;
they all have moods. You do yourself, David,
and very unpleasant moods, too," said Arabella

BLOOD WILL TELL

— — — M UMIIIIII !■■! ■■

with the proverbial sourness of the typical New
England spinster.

"Well, I may have moods, as you say, Ara-
bella, but I don't break out suddenly in a kind of
frenzy of gaiety, sing and shout like a street Arab
and then as quickly relapse into a superlatively
dead calm of dignity and the irreproachable de-
meanor of a cultured gentleman.

"Now, David, you are allowing your dislike
for Burton and your prejudice to overdraw the
picture," said prim Miss Arabella, as she daintily
raised the teacup to her lips.

"I am not overdrawing the picture! I have
seen and heard Burton when he thought that he
was alone in the office, and I say that there is
something queer about him; Dr. Jekyl and Mr.
Hyde of that old story are common characters
in comparison. I knew his father well ; he was
an every-day sort of successful business man;
whom his father married and what she was like
I do not know, but I shall find out some day, as
therein may lie the reading of the riddle," re-
torted the brother vehemently.

"As Lucy Dunlap will be married to the man

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shortly and' it will then be too late to do anything,
no matter what is the result of your inquiry, it
seems to me that you should cease to interest
yourself in the matter," chirped the bird-like
voice of Miss Arabella.

"I can't! I am absolutely fascinated by the
study of this man's strange, incongruous char-
acter ; you remember what I told you when I re-
turned from the only visit I ever made at
Burton's house. It was business that forced me
to go there, and I have never forgotten what I
saw and heard. I am haunted by something that
I cannot define," said Chapman, intensity of feel-
ing causing his pale face and hairless head to
assume the appearance of the bald-eagle or some
other bird of prey.

"Think of it, Arabella! That summer day as
I reached the door of his lonely dwelling, sur-
rounded by that great garden, through the open
windows there came crashing upon my ears such
a wild, weird burst of song that it held me mo-
tionless where I stood. The sound of those musi-
cal screams of melodious frenzy, dying away in
rythmic cadence until it seemed the soft summer

BLOOD WILL TELL

breeze echoed the sweet harmony in its sighing.
Words, music and expression now wild and un-
bridled as the shriek of a panther, and then low,
gentle and soothing as the murmuring of a peace-
ful brook," cried Chapman, becoming more in-
tense as his musical memory reproduced the
sounds he sought to describe.

"David, you know that music is a passion with
you, and doubtless your sensitive ear gave added
accent and meaning to the improvised music of
a cardess, idle young man," interrupted Miss
Arabella.

"Not so! Not so! I swear that no careless,
idle man ever improvised such wild melody; it
is something unusual in the man ; when at last
the outburst ceased, and I summoned strength
to ring' the bell, there was something almost su-
pernatural that enabled that frenzied musician
to meet me with the suavity of an ordinary cul-
tured gentleman of Boston as Burton did when
I entered his sitting room."

"Brother, I fear that imagination and hatred
in this instance are sadly warping your usually
sound judgment," quietly replied the sedate sis-

BLOOD WILL TELL

ter, seeing the increasing excitement of her
brother.

''Imagination created also, I suppose, the un-
canny, "barbaric splendor with which his apart-
ments were decorated which I described to you,"
sneered the man.

"All young men affect something of that kind,
I am told, in the adornment of their rooms," re-
joined the spinster, mincing her words, and, old
as she was, assuming embarassment in mention-
ing young men's rooms.

"Nonsense ! Arabella, I have seen many of the
Harvard men's rooms. A few swords, daggers,
and other weapons ; a skin or two of wild ani-
mals ; something of that kind, but Burton's apart-
ments were differently decorated; masses of
striking colors, gaudy, glaring, yet so blended by
an artistic eye that they were not offensive to the
sight. Articles of furniture of such strange, sav-
age and grotesque shape as to suggest a barbar-
ian as the designer. The carving on the wood-
work, the paneling, the tone and impression cre-
ated by sight of it all were such as must have filled
the souls of the Spanish conquerors when they

— — — — g— Ml mini i in ■iiiibiii

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first gazed upon the barbaric grandeur of the
Moors, as exposed to their wondering eyes by
the conquest of Granada."

"Don't get excited, David!" said staid Miss
Arabella. "Suppose that you should discover
something to the discredit of Burton, what use
could and would you make of it?"

The veins in Chapman's thin neck and bony
•brow became swollen and distended as if strain-
ing to burst the skin that covered them ; his eyes
flashed baleful fire, as extending his arm and
grasping the empty air as if it were his enemy,
he fairly hissed :

"I ! I ! I would tear him out of the house of
J. Dunlap, intruder that he is, and cast him into
the gutter ! Yea ! though I tore the heartstrings
of a million women such as Lucy Dunlap ! What
is she or her heart in comparison with the glory
of Boston's oldest business name?"

Panting, as a weary hound, who exhausted
but exultant, fastens his fangs in the hunted stag,
overcome by the violence of his hatred, David
Chapman dropped down into his chair.

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Nestling among grand old oaks and profusion
of shrubbery, now leafless in the November air
of New England, on the top of the highest hill
in that portion of the suburbs, sat the "Eyrie,"
the bachelor home of Walter Burton.

Though the house was small, the conservatory
adjoining it was one of the largest in the city.
Burton was an ardent lover of flowers, and an
active collector of rare plants. The house stood
in the center of an extensive and well kept gar-
den through which winding paths ran in every
direction.

The place would have seemed lonely to one
not possessing within himself resources sufficient
to furnish him entertainment independent of the
society of others.

Burton never knew loneliness. He was an ac-
complished musician, an artist of more than ordi-
nary ability, a zealous horticulturist, and an
omnivorous devourer of books.

A housekeeper who was cook at the same time,
one man and a boy for the garden and conserva-
tory and a valet constituted the household ser-
vants of the "Eyrie."

— — — — — — — — a— nan— — m

BLOOD WILL TELL

At the moment that Chapman's wrathful mind
was expressing its concentrated hate for him, the
owner of the white house on the hill sat 'before
the open grand piano in his music-room, his
shapely hands wandering listlessly over the keys,
touching them once in a while in an aimless man-
ner. The young man's mind was filled with
other thoughts than music.

Chapman had drawn an accurate picture of
Burton's apartments in many respects, yet he had
forgotten to mention the many musical instru-
ments scattered about the rooms. Harp, guitar,
mandolin, violin, banjo and numberless sheets
of music, some printed and some written, marked
this as the abode of a natural musician. Burton
was equally proficient in the use of each of the
instruments lying about the room, as well as
being the author of original compositions of great
beauty and merit.

The odor of violets perfumed the whole house.
Great bunches of these, Burton's favorite flower,
filled antique and queerly shaped vases in each
room.

Burton ceased to even sound the keys on which

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his hands rested, and as some scene was disclosed
to fiis sympathetic soul, his soft brown eyes were
•dimmed by a suspicious moisture. Sighing
sadly he murmured:

"Poor Jack ! While I am in a heaven of bliss
with the woman I love, surrounded by all that
makes life enjoyable, he, poor old chap, alone,
heartsick and hopeless, will 'be battling with the
stormy waves of the ocean. Alas! Fate how
inscrutable !"

As his mind drifted onward in this channel of
thought, he added more audibly, "What a heart
Jack has ! There is a man ! He will carry his
secret uncomplaining and in silence to his grave,
that, too, without permitting envy or jealousy
to fill his soul with hatred ; I would that I could
do something to assuage the pain of that brave
heart." And at the word "brave" the stream of
his wandering fancy seemed to take a new direc-
tion.

"Brave! Men who have sailed with him say
he knows no fear ; the last voyage they tell how
lie sprang into the icy sea, all booted as he was,
waves mountain high, the night of inky black-

BLOOD WILL TELL

ness, to save a worthless, brutal Lascar sailor.
Tender as a woman, when a mere child as careful
of baby Cousin Lucy as a granddame could be,
and ever 'her sturdy little knight and champion
from babyhood. Poor Jack !"

Again the current of his thought changed its
course. He paused and whispered to himself,
"Lucy, am I worthy of her? Shall I prove as
kind, as true and brave a husband as Jack would
be to her? Oh! God, I hope so, I will try so
hard. Sometimes there seems to come a strange
inexplicable spell over my spirit — a something
that is beyond my control. A madness seems to
possess my very soul. Involuntarily I say and
do that, during the time that this mysterious
influence holds me powerless in its grasp, that is
so foreign to my natural self that I shudder and
grow sick at heart at the thought of the end to
which it may lead me."

At the recollection of some horror of the past
the young man's face paled and he shivered as
if struck by a cold blast of winter wind.

"Ought I to tell Lucy of these singular mani-
festations? Ought I to alarm my darling con-

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cerning something that may partly be imaginary ?
I am uncertain what, loving her as I do, is right ;
I can always absent myself from her presence
when I feel that hateful influence upon me, and
perhaps after I am married I may be freed from
the horrible thraldom of that irresistible power
that clutches me in its terrible grasp. I cannot
bear the idea of giving my dear love useless pain
or trouble. Had I not better wait?"

At that moment some unpleasant fact must
have suggested itself or rather forced itself upon
Burton's mind for he pushed back the piano-stool
and rising walked with impatient steps about the
room, saying:

"It would be ridiculous! Absurd! Really
unworthy of both Lucy and myself even to men-
tion the subject! Long ago that old, nonsensical
prejudice had disappeared, at least among culti-
vated people in America. There is not a shade
of doubt but that both the Messrs. Dunlap and
Lucy are aware of the fact that my mother was
a quadroon. Doubtless that circumstance is
deemed so trivial that it never has occurred to
them to mention it to me. People of education

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and refinement, regardless of the color of skin,
are welcome in the home of the Dunlaps as every-
where else where enlightenment has dispelled
prejudice."

He paused and bursting into a musical and
merry laugh at something that his memory re-
called, exclaimed,

"Why, I have seen men and women as black
as the proverbial 'ace of spades,' the guests of
honor in Mr. James Dunlap's house, as elsewhere
in Boston. I shall neither bore nor insult the
intelligence of my sweetheart or her family by
introducing the absurd subject of blood in con-
nection with our marriage. The idea of blood
making any difference ! Men are neither hounds
nor horses!"

Laughing at the odd conceit that men, hounds
and horses should be considered akin by any one
not absolutely benighted, he resumed his seat at
the piano and began playing a gay waltz tune
then popular with the dancing set of Boston's
exclusive circle.

As Burton ended the piece of music with a
fantastic flourish of his own composition, he

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turned and saw his valet standing silently waiting
for his master to cease playing.

"Ah! Victor, are the hampers packed care-
fully?" exclaimed Burton.

"Yes, sir," replied the valet, pronouncing his
words with marked French accent. "The stew-
ard at your club furnished all the articles on the
list that the housekeeper lacked, sir."

"You are sure that you put in the hampers the
'44' vintage of champagne, the Burgundy im-
ported by myself, and you examined the cigars
to be certain to get only those of the last lot from
Havana?"

"Quite sure, sir; I packed everything myself,
as you told me you were especially anxious to
have only the very best selected," said the little
Frenchman.

"Now, listen, Victor; tomorrow I dine away
from home, but before I leave the house I shall
arrange a box of flowers, which, with the ham-
pers, you are to carry in my dog-cart to Dunlap's
wharf and there you are to have them placed in
the cabin of the ship 'Adams.' You will open the
box of flowers and arrange them tastefully, as I

BLOOD WILL TELL

know you can, about the \ master's stateroom —
take a half-dozen vases to put them in."

"Very good, sir; it shall be done as you say,
sir," answered the valet bowing and moving to-
ward the door.

"Hold on, Victor!" called Burton, "I wish to
add just this : if by any accident, no matter what,
you fail to get these things on board the 'Adams'
before she sails, my gentle youth, I will break
your neck."

So admonished the servant bowed low and left
the room, as his master turned again to the piano
and began to make the room ring with a furious
and warlike march.

IV.

THE United States is famous for its beau-
tiful women, but even in that councry
where beauty is the common heritage of
her daughters, Lucy Dunlap's loveliness of face
and figure shone as some transcendent planet in
the bright heavens of femininity where all are
stars.

"How can you be so cruel, Jack, as to run away
to sea again so soon and when I need you so
much?"

The great hazel eyes looked so pleadingly into
poor Jack's that he could not even stammer out
an excuse for his departure.

Sailors possibly appreciate women more than
all other classes of men. They are so much
without their society that they never seem to re-
gard them as landsmen do, and Lucy Dunlap was
an exceptional example of womankind to even
the most blase landsman. Small wonder then

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that sailor Jack, confused, could only gaze at the
lovely being before him.

Lucy Dunlap, though of the average height of
women, seemed taller, so round, supple and elas-
tic were the proportions of her perfect figure.
The charm of intellectual power gave added
beauty to a face whose features would have
caused an artist to realize that the ideal model did
not exist alone in the land of dreams.

In the spacious drawing-room of Dunlap's
mansion were gathered those who had enjoyed
the sumptuous dinner served that evening in
honor of their sea-faring kinsman. Mr. John
Dunlap was relating his experiences in Port au
Prince to his old friend, Mrs. Church, while his
brother, with that old-fashioned courtliness that
became him so well, was playing the cavalier to
Miss Winthrop, one of his granddaughter's
pretty friends. Walter Burton was bending over
Miss Stanhope, a talented young musician, who,
seated before the piano, was scanning a new
piece of music.

There seemed a mutual understanding between
all of those present that Lucy should monopolize

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her cousin's attention on this the first occasion
that she had seen him for two years, and proba-
bly the last for a like period of time. In a far
corner of the great room Jack and Lucy were
seated when she asked the question mentioned,
to which Jack finaly made awkward answer by
saying :

"Oh ! well, Lucy, I am not of much account at
social functions. I should only be in some one's
way. I fancy my proper place is the quarter-deck
of a ship at sea."

"Don't be absurd, Jack ! You know much bet-
ter than that," said his cousin, glancing at the
manly, frank face beside her, the handsome, curly
blonde head carried high and firm, and the grand
chest and shoulders of the man, made more no-
ticeable by the close fitting dress coat that he
wore.

"Why, half the women of our set in Boston
will be in love with you if you remain for my
wedding. Please do, Jack. I will find you the
prettiest sweetheart that your sailor-heart ever
pictured."

"I am awfully sorry, little cousin, to disappoint

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you, as you seem to have expected me to be pres-
ent at your wedding," said Jack manfully, at-
tempting to appear cheerful.

"And as for the sweetheart part of your sug-
gestion, it may be ungallant to say so, but I don't
believe there is any place in my log for that kind
of an entry. "

"How odd it is, Jack, that you have never been
in love ; why, any woman could love you, you big-
hearted handsome sailor."

Lucy's admirino" glances rested upon the face
of her cousin .as innocently as when a little maid
she had kissed him and said that she loved him.

"Yes, it is rather odd for a man never to love
some woman, but I can't say that I agree that
any woman could or would love me," answered
Jack dryly, as he smiled at the earnest face
turned toward him.

Miss Stanhope played a magnificent symphony
as only that clever artist could ; Walter Burton's
clear tenor voice rang out in an incomparable
■solo from the latest opera, but Lucy and Jack,
oblivious to all else, in low and confidential tones
conversed in the far corner of the room.

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As of old when she was a child, Lucy had nes-
tled down close to her cousin and resting one
small hand upon his arm was artlessly pouring
out the whole story of her love for Walter Bur-
ton, her bright hopes and expectations, the joy
that rilled her soul, the happiness that she saw
along the vista of the future ; all with that free-
dom from reserve that marks the exchange of
confidences between loving sisters.

The day of the rack and stake has passed, but
as long as human hearts shall beat, the day of
torture can never come to a close; Jack listened
to the heart story of the innocent, confiding
woman beside him, who, all unaware of the tor-
ture she was inflicting, painted the future in
words that wrung more agony from his soul than
rack or stake could have caused his body.

How bravely he battled against the pain that
every word brought to his breast! Pierced by
a hundred darts he still could meet the artless
gaze of those bright, trusting, hazel eyes and
smile in assurance of his interest and sympathy.

"But of course my being married must make
no difference with you, Cousin Jack. You must

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■love me as you always have," she said, as if the
thought of losing something she was accustomed
to have just occurred to her mind.

"I shall always love you, Lucy, as I ever have."
The sailor's voice came hoarse and deep from the
broad breast that rose and fell like heaving bil-
lows.

"You know, Jack, that you were always my
refuge and strength in time of trouble or danger
when I was a child, and even with dear Walter
for my husband I still should feel lost had I not
you to call upon." Lucy's voice trembled a little
and she grasped Jack's strong arm with the hand
that rested there while they had been talking.

"You may call me from the end of the earth,
my dear, and feel sure that I shall come to you,"
said Jack simply, but the earnest manner was
more convincing to the woman at his side than
fine phrases would have been.

"Oh! Jack! what a comfort you are, and how
much I rely upon you. It makes me quite strong
and brave to know that my marriage will make
mo change in your love for me."

"As long as life shall last, my cousin, I shall

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love you," replied the man almost sadly, as be
placed his hand over her's that held his arm.

"Or until some day you marry and your wife
becomes jealous," added Lucy laughing.

"Or until I marry and my wife is jealous,"
repeated Dunlap with the faintest kind of em-
phasis upon "until."

Miss Stanhope began to play a waltz of the
inspiring nature that almost makes old and gouty
feet to tingle, and is perfectly irresistible to the
young and joyous. Burton and Miss Winthrop
in a minute were whirling around the drawing-
room. How perfectly Burton could dance; his
easy rythmic steps were the very poetry of mo-
tion. Lucy and Jack paused to watch the hand-
some couple as they glided gracefully through
the room.

"Does not Walter dance beautifully?" ex-
claimed Lucy as she followed the dancers with
admiring glances.

"Bertie Winthrop, who was at Harvard with
Walter, says that when they were students and
had their stag parties if they could catch Walter
in what Bertie calls 'a gay mood,' he would as-

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tonish them with his wonderful dancing. Bertie
vows that Walter can dance any kind of thing
from a vulgar gig to an exquisite ballet, but he
is so awfully modest about it that he denies Ber-
tie's story and will not dance anything but the
conventional," continued Lucy.

"Take a turn, Jack !" called Burton as he and
his partner swept by the corner where the sailor
and his cousin were seated, and added as he
passed, "It is your last chance for some time."

"Come on, Jack," cried Lucy springing up and
extending her hands. A moment more and Jack
was holding near his bosom the woman for
whom his heart would beat until death should still
it forever.

Oft midst the howling winds and angry waves,
when 'storm tossed on tfhe sea, will Jack dream
o'er again the heavenly bliss of those few mo-
ments when close to his heart rested she who
was the beacon light of his sailor's soul.

When the music of the waltz ended, Jack and
his fair partner found themselves just in front
of the settee where John Dunlap and Mrs.
Church were seated,

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"Uncle John, I have been trying to induce Jack
to stay ashore until after my wedding," said
Lucy addressing Mr. John Dunlap who had been
following her and her partner with his eyes, in
which was a pained expression, as they had cir-
cled about the room.

"Won't you help me, Uncle John ?" added the
young woman in that pleading seductive tone
that always brought immediate surrender on the
part of both her grandfather and granduncle.

"I am afraid, Lucy, that I can't aid you this
time," replied the old gentleman and there was
so much seriousness in his sun-burnt face that
Lucy exclaimed anxiously :

"Why? What is the matter that the house
must send Cousin Jack away almost as soon as he
gets home?"

"Nothing is the matter, dear, but it is an op-
portunity for your cousin to make an advance-
ment in his profession, and you moist not be
selfish in thinking only of your own happiness,
my child. You know men must work and
women must wait," replied her uncle.

"Oh! Is that it? Then I must resign myself

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witfh good grace to the disappointment. I would
not for the world have any whim of mine mar
dear old Jack's prospects," and Lucy clasped
both of her dimpled white hands affectionately
on her cousin's arm, which she still retained after
the waltz ended, as she uttered these sentiments.

"I know Jack would make any sacrifice for me
if I really insisted."

"I am sure tfhat he would, Lucy, so don't in-
sist," said John Dunlap very seriously and posi-
tively.

Just then Burton began singing a mournfully
sweet song, full of sadness and pathos, accom-
panying himself on a guitar that had been lying
on the music stand. All conversation ceased.
Every one turned to look at the singer. What a
mellow, rich voice had Walter Burton. What
expression he put into the music and words !

What a handsome man he was ! As he leaned
forward holding the instrument, and lightly
touching the strings as he sang, Lucy thought
him a perfect Apollo. Her eyes beamed with
pride and love as she regarded her future hus-
band.

BLOOD WILL TELL

None noticed the flush and troubled frcwn on
old John Dunlap's face. Burton's crossed legs
had drawn his trousers tightly around the limb
below the knee, revealing an almost total absence
of calf and that the little existing was placed
higher up than usually is the case. That pecul-
iarty or something never to be explained had
brought some Haitian scene back to the memory
of the flushed and frowning old man and sent a
pang of regret and fear through his kind heart.

"God bless and keep you, lad! Jack, you are
the last of the Dunlaps," said Mr. John Dunlap
solemnly as they all stood in the hall when the
sailor was leaving.

"Amen ! most earnestly, Amen !" added Mr.
James Dunlap, placing his hand on Jack's
shoulder.

"Good-by! dear Jack," said Lucy sorrowfully
while tears rilled her eyes, when she stood at the
outer door of the hall holding her cousin's hand.

"Think of me on the twentieth of next month,
any wedding day," she added, and then drawing
the hand that she held close to her breast a*s if
still clinging to some old remembrance and anx-

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ious to keep fast hold of the past, fearful that it
would escape her, she exclaimed :

"Remember, you are still my trusty knight and
champion, Jack!"

"Until death, Lucy," replied the man, as he
raised the little white hand to his lips and rev-
erently kissed it.

She stood watching the retreating figure until
it was hidden by the gloom of the ghostly elms
that lined the avenue. As she turned Burton
was at her side.

"How horribly lonely Jack must be, Walter,"
she said in pitying tones-

"More so than even you realize, Lucy," re-
joined Burton sadly.

Alone through the darkness strode a man with
a dull, hard, crushing pain in his brave, faithful
heart.

*-Jx * *^C 3$» 5JC 5jC 5jC *f*

"The child will be ruined," said all the old
ladies of the Dunl'aps' acquaintance when they
learned that it had been determined by the child's
grandfather to keep the motherless and father-
less little creature at home with him, rather than

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send1 her to reside with some remote female mem-
bers of her mother's family.

"Those two old gentlemen will surely spoil
her to that degree that she will be unendurable
when she becomes a young woman," asserted the
women with feminine positiveness.

"They will make her Princess of the house of
Dunlap, I suppose," added the most acrimonious.

To a degree these predictions were verified by
the result, but only to a degree. The twin
brothers almost worshiped the beautiful little
maiden, and did in very fact make her their Prin-
cess, and so, too, was she often called; but possi-
bly through no merit in the management of the
brothers, probably simply because Lucy was not
spoilable was the desirable end arrived at that
she grew to be a most amiable and agreeable
woman.

The son of Mr. John Dunlap, the father of
Lucy, survived but one year the death of his wife,
which occurred when Lucy was born. Thus her
grandfather and uncle became sole protectors and
guardians of the child ; that is until the lad, Jack
Dunlap, came to live at the house of his god-
father.

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Young Jack was the only child of a second
cousin oi the twin brothers ; his father had been
lost at sea when Jack was yet a Ibaby. His
mother, Martha Dunlap, had gladly availed her-
self of the kind offer of the boy's kinsman and
godfather, when 'he proposed that the boy should
come and live with him in Boston, where he could
obtain better opportunities for securing an edu-
cation than he could in the old town of Bedford.

Jack was twelve years of age when he became
an inmate of the Dunlap mansion, and a robust,
sturdy little curly haired chap 'he was ; Princess
Lucy's conquest was instantaneous. Jack imme-
diately enrolled himself as the chief henchman,
servitor and guard of the pretty fairy-like maid
of six years. No slave was ever more obedient
and humble.

Great games awoke the echoes through Dun-
l&p's stately old dwelling ; in winter the lawn was
converted into a slide, the fish-pond into a skat-
ing-rink; in summer New Hampshire's hills
reverberated with the merry shouts of Jack and
"Princess" Lucy or flying over the blue waters
of the bay in the yacht that his godfather had

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given him Jack, aided by Lucy's fresh young
voice, sang rollicking songs of the sea.

The old gentlemen dubbed Jack, "Lucy's
Knight," and were always perfectly satisfied
when the little girl was with her cousin.

"He is more careful of her than we are our-
selves," they would reply when speaking of Jack
and his guardianship.

All the fuming of Miss Lucy's maids and the
complaints of Miss Lucy's governess availed
nothing, for even good old Mrs. Church joined
in the conspiracy of the grandfather and uncle,
saying :

"She is perfectly safe in Jack's care, and I
wish to see rosy cheeks rather than hear Emer-
sonian philosophy from our pet."

Notwithstanding the "lots of fun," as Jack
used to call their frolics, Lucy and Jack did good
hard work with their books, music and "all the
rest of it," as the young people called drawing
and dancing.

When Jack became twenty years of age, and
was prepared to enter Harvard college, whe
Mr. John Dunlap proposed to send him, he made

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his appearance one day in the city and asked to
see his kind kinsman.

"I thank you, sir, for your great kindness in
offering to place me in Harvard College, a's I
do for all the countless things you have done for
me, but I can't accept your generous proposition.
You will not be angry, I am sure, for you know,
I hope, how grateful I am for all you have done.
But, sir, I have a widowed mother and I wish to
go to work that I may earn money for her and
obtain a start in life for myself," said Jack with
boyish enthusiasm when admitted to the presence
of Mr. John Dunlap.

Though the old gentleman urged every argu-
ment to alter Jack's determination, the boy stood
firmly by what he had said.

"You are my namesake, the only male repre-
sentative of our family; neither you nor your
mother shall ever want. I have more money
than I need." Many other inducements were
offered still the young man insisted upon the
course that he laid out for himself.

"I am a sailor's son and have a sailor's soul;
x wish to go to sea," Jack finally exclaimed.

BLOOD WILL TELL

Both of tfhe twins loved Jack. He had been
so long in their house and so closely associated
with Lucy that he seemed more to them than, a
remote young kinsman.

Finding Jack's decision unalterable, a compro-
mise was effected on the subject. Jack should
sail in one of their coasting ships, and when on
shore at Boston continue to make their house his
home.

Great was the grief of Lucy at parting with
her Jack, as she called him. But consoling her-
self with the thought that she should see him

often and that the next autumn she should be
obliged to leave Boston for some dreadful semi-
nary and thus they would be separated under any
circumstances, she dried her eyes and entered
with enthusiasm into his preparations for sea,
saying, "I have a good mind to dress up as a boy
and go with Jack ! I declare I would do it, were
it not for grandfather and Uncle John."

Jack^s kit on his first voyage was a marvel in
the way of a sailor's outfit; Lucy had made a
bankrupt of herself in the purchase of the most
extraordinary handkerchiefs, caps, shirts and
things of that kind that could be found in Bos-

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ton, saying proudly to Mrs. Church when dis-
playing the assortment:

"Nothing is too good for my sailor boy."

After several years of sea service Mr. James
Dunlap, during the residence of his brother in
Haiti, had tendered to Jack a position in the office,
hoping that having seen enough of the ocean he
would be willing to remain ashore and possibly
with a half- formed hope that Jack would win
Lucy's hand and thus the house of Dunlap con-
tinue to survive for other generations.

Much to the chagrin of Lucy's grandfather,
Jack absolutely refused to entertain the proposi-
tion, saying:

I should be of no earthly use in the office. I am.
not competent to fill any position there, and I
positively will not accept a sinecure. If you
wish to advance me, do so in the line of my pro-
fession! Make me master of your ship Lucy
anid let me take her for a two years' cruise in
Eastern waters."

Thus it happened that Jack was absent from
Boston for two years and returned to find that
he had lost that, that all the gold of El Dorado
could not replace — the woman whom he loved.

MOTHER SYBELLA, Mother Sybella!
May I approach? yelled every few min-
utes the man seated on a rock half way
up the hill that rose steep from the Port au
Prince highway.

The neglected and broken pavement of the
road that remained as a monument to the long-
departed French governors of Haiti was almost
hidden by the rank, luxurious growth of tropical
plants on either side of it. As seen from the
hillside, where the man was sitting, it seemed
an impracticable path for even the slowly moving
donkeys which here and there crawled between
the overhanging vegetation.

The man looked neither to the right nor to the
left, but throwing back his head, at intervals of
possibly fifteen minutes, as if addressing the
blazing sun above, bawled out at the top of his
voice:

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"Mother Sybella! Mother Sybella! May I
approach ?"

The man was a mulatto, though with features
markedly of the negro type ; around his head he
wore a much soiled white handkerchief. His
body was fairly bursting out of a tight-fitting
blue coat of military fashion, adorned with im-
mense brass buttons. His bare feet and long
thin shanks appeared below dirty duck trousers
that once had been white.

There evidently was something awe-inspiring
about the name, that be shouted even though the
rest of the words were unintelligible to the na-
tives. The man shouted his request in the
English language; the natives of Haiti used a
jargon of French, English and native dialect
difficult to understand1 and impossible to describe
or reproduce in writing.

If, when the man called, a native were passing
along the highway, a)s sometimes happened, he
would spring forward so violently as to endanger
the safety of the huge basket of fruit or vegeta-
bles that he carried upon his head, and glancing
over his shoulder with dread in his distended,

BLOOD WILL TELL

white and rolling eyes, would break into a run
and speed forward as if in mortal terror.

The man had just given utterance to a louder
howl than usual when he felt the grip of bony
claw-like fingers on his shoulder; with one un-
earthly yell he sprang to his feet, turned and fell
upon his knees before the figure that so silently
had stolen to his side.

"Has the yellow dog brought a bone to his
mother?" The word's were spoken in the patois
of the native Haitians with which the man was
familiar.

The speaker was a living, animated but mum-
mified black crone of a woman. She leaned
upon a staff made of three human thigh bones,
joined firmly together by wire. Her fleshless
fingers looked like the talons of a vulture as she
gripped the top of her horrid prop and bent for-
ward toward the man.

Her age seemed incalculable in decades; cen-
turies appeared to have passed since she was
born. The wrinkles in her face were as gashes
in black and aged parchment, so deep were they.
The skin over her toothless jaws was so drawn

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and stretched by untold time that the very hinges
of the jaw were plainly traced; in caver-
nous, inky holes dug deep beneath the retreating
forehead sparkled, like points of flame, eyes so
bright and glittering that sparks of electric fire
shot forth in the gaze by which she transfixed
the groveling wretch at foer feet.

"Answer, Manuel ; what have you brought for
Mother Sybella?"

Finally the startled and fearful Manuel found
courage to reply:

"The coffee, " sugar, ham' and calico are in that
bundle lying over there, Mother Sybella," and the
man pointed to a roll of matting near him.

"And I told you to gather all the gossip and
news of Port au Prince. Have you done so?"
queried the hag with a menacing gesture.

"Yes ! yes ! Mother ; every command has been
obeyed. I have learned what people are talking
of, and, too, I have brought some printed talk
from' among the Yankees," cried the mulatto
quickly, anxious to propitiate the crone.

"Fool, you know I can't make out the Yankee
printed talk," snarled the sunken lips.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"I can though, Mother Sybella ; I lived among
the Yankees many years. I will tell you what
they talk of concerning our country," said the
man rising from his knees.

"I will listen here in the sun's rays ; I am cold.
Sit there at my feet," mumbled the hag, crouch-
ing down on the rock that had been occupied by
Manuel.

"Begin," she commanded fiercely, fixing her
keen gaze upon the yellow face below her.

"Dictator Dupree is unable to obtain money to
pay the army; the Yankees and English will not
make a loan unless concessions be made to the
whites."

"What says Dupree?" muttered the old
woman.

"Dupree fears an insurrection of the people
if he make concession's to the whites, and an out-
break by the army if he fail to pay the arrears
due to it. He is distracted and knows not which
move to make," answered the yellow man at the
hag's feet.

"Dupree is a coward! Let him come to me
and see how quickly his difficulties disappear!

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The army is worthless, the people powerful,"
cried Sybella.

"Go on! Squash-head," she ordered.

"Twenty priests, with a Bishop at their head,
have come from France, and go among the peo-
ple urging them to attend the churches, and
threatening them with awful punishment here-
after if they fail to heed the commands of the
priests," continued Manuel.

"Much goo'd may it do the black-gowns,"
chuckled the old creature, making a horrible
grimace in so doing.

"My children fear Sybella more than the black-
gowns' hell," she cackled exultantly.

"The priests are trying to persuade the Dic-
tator to give them permission to re-open those
schools that have been closed so long, but Dupree
'has not consented yet. He seems to fear the
anger of the black party in Haiti," said the
witch's newsman.

"He does well to hesitate !" exclaimed Sybella.

"If he consent, I shall set up my altar, call my
children around me and then! and then! No
matter, he is a coward ; he will never dare con-

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sent," she added. The mulatto here drew from
his bosom a newspaper. Shading his eyes from
the sun's glare, he began searching for any item
of news in the Boston paper that he had secured
in Port au Prince, which miglit interest his terri-
fying auditor.

"Do you wish to know about the Yankee Presi-
dent and Congress?" he asked humbly, pausing
as he turned the sheet of the newspaper.

"No ! you ape, unless they mention our island,"
replied the woman, her watchful eyes looking
curiously at the printed paper that the man held.

"About the ships coming and going between
the United States and Haiti?" he asked anx-
iously, as if fearing that he might miss some-
thing of importance to the black seeress.

"No ! That is an old story ; the accursed Yan-
kees are ever coming and going, restless fools,"
said the woman.

"Here is a long account of a grand wedding
of a wealthy Haitien that has just taken place in
Boston. He married the granddaughter and
heiress of J. Dunlap, who is largely interested
in our island," remarked Manuel interrogatively.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"His name ! fool, his name !" almost screamed
the hag, springing to her feet with an agility
fearful to contemplate in one so decrepit, sug-
gesting supernatural power to the beholder.
Manuel, with trembling lip, cried, as she fastened
him in the shoulder with her claws:

"Burton! Walter Burton !"

Without changing, by even a line her fingers
from the place where she had first fixed them in
the flesh of the frightened man, she dragged
him, bulky as he was, to his feet, and up the
steep, pathless hillside with a celerity that was
awful to the frightened mulatto.

A deep ravine cutting into the back of the hill
formed a precipice. Along the face of the rocky
wall thus formed a narrow, ill-defined footway
ran, almost unsafe for a mountain goat. Nearly
a thousand feet below, dark and forbidding in
the gloom of jungle and spectral moss-festooned
trees, roared the sullen mutterin'gs of a mountain
torrent.

When near the top of the hill, with a quick
whirl the black crone darted aside and around
the elbow of the hill, dragging Manuel along at

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a furious pace, she dashed down the precipitous
path with the swiftness and confidence of an Al-
pine chamois.

Half way down the cliff, a ledge of rock made
scanty foundation for a hut of roughly hewn
saplings, thatched with the palm plants of the
ravine below. So scarce was room for the hovel
that but one step was necessary to reach the brink
of the declivity.

As the excited hag reached the aperture that
served as the doorwoy of her den, a hideous,
blear-eyed owl, who like an evil spirit kept watch
and ward at the witch's castle, gave forth a
ghostly "Hoot! Hoot!" of welcome to his mis-
tress. At the unexpected sound the mulatto's
quivering knees collapsed and he sank down,
nearly rolling over the edge of the precipice.

Sybella seemed not to feel the weight of the
prostrate man whom she still clutched and hauled
into the dark interior of her lair.

Dropping the almost senseless man, she threw
some resinous dry brush upon a fire that was
smouldering in the center of the hut. As the
flame shot up Manuel opened his eyes. With a

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shriek be sprang to his feet, terror shaking his
every lim'b as he stared about him.

Two giant rats were tugging at some bone,
most human in shape ; each trying to tear it from
the teeth of the other, as squealing they circled
around the fire. In corners toads blinked their
bead-like eyes, while darting lizards flashed
across the floor. Slowly crawling along becween
the unplastered logs of the walls snakes of many
colors moved about or coiled in the thatch of the
roof hung head downward and hissed as they
waved their heads from side to side.

Along the wall a bark shelf stood. On it were
two small skulls with handles made of cane.
These ghastly vessels were filled with milk.
Conch shells and utensil's made of dried gourds
were scattered on the shelf, among which a huge
and ugly buzzard stalked about.

An immense red drum hung from a pole fixed
in a crevice of the rock and by its side dangled
a long and shining knife. A curtain of woven
grass hanging at the rear of the hovel seemed
to conceal the entrance to some cavern within
the hill's rock-ribbed breast.

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When the 'blaze of the burning fagots cast a
glow over the grewsome interior of this temple
of Voo Doo, Sybella, the High Priestess, turned
upon t'he cowering man, upon whose asfiy-hued
face stood great drops of ice-cold sweat, tearing
from her head the scarlet turban that had hidden
'her bare, deathly skull, and 'beckoning him with
'her skeleton hand to approach, in guttural, hiss-
ing voice commanded:

"Say over what you told me on the hill ! Say,
if you dare, you dog, here in my lair where Tu
Konk dwells, that my daughter's grandson, the
last of my blood, has mated with a white cow."

Benumbed by the dazzling light that poured
fiom the black pits in her naked, fleshless skull,
the mulatto could not walk, but falling on his
•hands and knees he moved toward her ; prostrate
at her feet, overcome by fear, he whined faintly :

"Burton, Walter Burton, married a white
woman in Boston the twentieth of last month."

The hag grasping his ears drew his head up
toward her face, and thrusting her terrible head
forward she plunged her gaze like sword points
down into the man's very soul.

BLOOD WILL TELL

With a cry like that of a wounded wild-cat,
she jumped back and throwing her skinny arms
up in the air began waving them above her head,
screaming :

"He does not lie ! It is true ! It is true !"

In impotent rage she dug the sharp nails of her
fingers into the skin of her bald head and tore
long ridges across its smooth bare surface.

Suddenly she seized the mulatto, now half-
dead from terror, crying:

"Come! Goat without horns, let us tell Tu
Konk."

Manuel, limp, scarcely -breathing, staggered to
his feet. The 'hag held him 'by the bleeding ears
that she had half torn from1 his head. Pushing
him before her they passed behind the curtain
suspended against the rock wall at the rear of the
room.

The cave they entered was of small dimen-
sions. It was illuminated by four large candles,
which stood at each of the four corners of a
baby's cradle. This misplaced article occupied
the center of the space walled in by the rocky
sides of the apartment. The place otherwise was
bare.

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Sybella as soon as the curtain fell be'hind her
6egan a monotonous chant. Moving slowly with
shuffling side-long steps around the cradle, sang :

"Awake, my Tu Konk, awake and listen;

Hear my story;

My blood long gone to white dogs;

Daughter, granddaughter, all gone to White
dogs ;

One drop left to me now gone to white cow ;

Tu Konk, Tu Konk, awake and avenge me."

Manuel saw something move beneath the cov-
ering in the cradle.

"Awake, Oh! my Tu Konk;

Awake and avenge me!"

Manuel saw a black head thrust itself from
'below the cover, and rest upon the dainty pillow
in the cradle! The head was covered by an in-
fant's lacy cap.

Sybella saw the head appear. Dashing under
the curtain and seizing one of the skull-cups she
returned and filled a nursing bottle that lay in
the cradle.

The head covered with its cap of lace rose
from the pillow. Sybella, on her knees, with

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bowed head and adoring gestures, crept to the
side of the cradle and extended the bottle. King
of terrors ! By all that is Horrible !

The nipple disappeared in the scarlet flaming
mouth of an immense, fiery eyed, hissing black-
snake. It was Tu Konk!"

"Drink, my Tu Konk."

"Bring back my black blood."

"Leave me not childless."

"Curse then the white cow."

"Send 'her the black goat."

"Give her black kids."

"Black kids and white teats."

"Serve thus the white cow."

Chanting these words, the Voo Doo priestess
struck her head repeatedly upon the hard surface
of the floor of the cave. Blood ran down her
face to mingle with the froth that dropped from
her shriveled and distorted lips.

The mulatto with bursting, straining eye-balls
and chattering teeth gasped for breath. The
hideous grotesqueness of the scene had frozen the
very life-blood in his veins. The vestments of
an angel adorning a fiend! Paralyzed by fear,

BLOOD WILL TELL

with bulging eyes nearly popping from their
sockets, the man stared at the horrible head sur-
rounded by those trappings most closely associ-
ated with innocence.

Human nature could stand no more! With
one frenzied shriek Manuel broke the spell that
•held him helpless. Tearing aside the curtain he
leaped out of this Temple of Terrors; heedless
of tfhe danger of plunging over the precipice he
raced along the treacherous path nor paused for
breath until miles intervened between Tu Konk,
Sybella and himself.

VI.

NO SOCIAL event of the season equalled
the Burton-Dunlap wedding. For
weeks prior to the date of the ceremony
it bad been the one all-engrossing theme of con-
versation with everybody ; that is, everybody who
was anybody, in the metropolis of the Old Bay
State.

The immense settlement, the magnificent gifts,
the exquisite trousseau from Paris, the surpass-
ing beauty of the bride, the culture and accom-
plishments of the handsome groom, the exalted
position of the Dunlap family, these formed tlhe
almost exclusive topics of Boston's most exclu-
sive set for many weeks before the wedding.

What a grand church wedding it was! The
church was a perfect mass of flowers and plants
of the rarest and most expensive kind. The
music grandissimo beyond expression. A bishop
assisted by two clergymen performed the oere-

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many. The bride, a dream of loveliness in lace,
satin and orange blossoms; the groom a model
of grace and chivalry ; the tiny maids, earth-born
angels ; the ushers Boston's bluest blooded scions
of the Pilgrim Fathers, and finally everybody
who was anybody was there.

And the reception ! The Dunlap mansion and
grounds were resplendent in a blaze of light ; the
beauty, talent, wealth and great names of New
England were gathered there to congratulate the
happy bride, Dunlap's heiress, and the fortunate
groom.

"A most appropriate match! How fortunate
for all concerned ! How delightful for the two
old gentlemen!" declared everybody who was
anybody.

Four special policemen guarded the glittering
array of almost priceless wedding presents; in
the siplendid refreshment room;, brilliant in glit-
tering glass and silver, Boston's best and gentlest
pledged the happy bride and groom in many a
glass of rarest wine and wished long life and
{happiness to that aharming, well-mated pair.

The bride, radiant in her glorious beauty, re-

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jecting as adornment for this occasion, diamond
necklace and tiara, gifts of the groom, selected
a simple coil of snowy pearls.

"The gift of my Cousin Jack," she proudly
said. "My earliest lover and most steadfast
friend."

The savings of years of sailor life had been
expended ungrudingly to lay this tribute of love
on that fair bosom.

How well assured was the future of this for-
tunate couple! The prospect stretched before
tJhem like one long, joyous journey of uninter-
rupted bliss. ■ Life's pathway all lined with thorn-
less roses beneath summer's smiling sky.

Naught seemed lacking to make assurance of
the future doubly sure. Youth, health, wealth,
social position, culture, refinement, intelligence,
amiability.

Soft strains of music floated on the perfumed
air, bright eyes "spake love to eyes that spake
again," midst palms and in flower-garlanded re-
cesses gentle voices wihispered words of love to
willing ears ; in the center of this unalloyed bliss-
fulness were Burton and his bride.

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"Old bachelors are as excitable concerning
marriage as old spinsters can possibly be. See
Mr. John Dunlap, how flushed and nervous he
seems ! He hovers about the bride like an anx-
ious mother !" So said two elderly grand-dames
behind their fans while watching the group about
Burton's fair young wife.

Among that gay and gallant company moved
one restless figure and peering face. David
Chapman, leaving his sister, Miss Arabella,
under the protecting care of Mrs. Church, lest
during the confusion of so large a gathering,
some daring cavalier, enamored of her maiden-
charms, should elope with the guileless creature,
mingled with the throng of guests, unobtrusive,
but ever vigilant and watchful.

Chapman's countenance bore an odd expres-
sion, a mixture of satisfied curiosity, vindictive-
ness and regret.

That very day a superannuated sailor who for
years had served the house of Dunlap, and now
acted as ship-keeper for vessels in its employ,
called to report to the superintendent some
trifling loss. Before leaving 'be asked respect-
fully, knuckling his forehead.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Is the manager goin' to marry ter'day?"

"Yes; w!hy?" said Chapman sharply.

"Nothim' 'cept I've often seen his mother and
took notice of him 'here," replied the man.

"Where did you see Mr. Burton's mother?
Who was she?" Chapman asked eagerly in his
keen way.

"In Port au Prince, mor'n twenty-five year
er'go. She was Ducros', the sugar planter's
darter, and the puttiest quadroon I ever seen.
Yea, the puttiest woman of any kind I ever seen,"
answered the old ship-keeper in a reminiscent
tone.

Chapman's 'eyes fairly sparkled with pleasure
as he thus secured a clew for future investiga-
tion, but without asking other questions he dis-
missed the retired seaman. It was this infor-
mation that gave to his face that singular expres-
sion during the reception.

A private palace car stood on the track in the
station waiting for the coming of the bridal
party. Naught less than a special train could
be considered when it was decided that Florida
should be the favored spot where the wealthy

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Haitien and his bride, the Dunlap heiress, would
spend their honeymoon.

Soft and balmy are the breezes, that pouring
through the open windows of the ear, flood the
interior with odors of pine cones and orange
blooms, as Burton's special train speeds through
the Flower State of the Union.

The car is decked with the fresh and gorgeous
blossoms of this snowless land ; yet of all the fair-
est is that sweet bud that rests on Burton's
breast.

"Walter, how sweet is life When one loves and
is beloved," said Burton's young wife dreamily,
raising 'her head from his "breast and gazing
fondly into her husband's eyes,

"Yes, love, life then is heaven on earth, sweet
wife," whispered the husband clasping closely
the yielding figure in his arms.

"I am so happy, dearest Walter, I love you so
•dearly," murmured Lucy clinging still closer to
her lover.

"You will always love me thus, I hope, my
'darling," said Walter, as he kissed the white
forehead of his bride.

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Of course I shall, my own dear husband,"
answered unhesitatingly the happy, trusting
woman.

"Could nothing, no matter what, however un-
expected and unforeseen, shake your faith in me,
or take from me that love I hold so sacred and
so dear?" asked Burton earnestly, pressing his
wife to his heart.

"Nothing could alter my love for you, my hus-
band," answered Lucy quickly, as she raised her
'head and kissed him.

The special train slows up at a small station.
Put on breaks ! The whistle calls, and the train
stops until the dispatcher can get a "clear track"
message from the next station.

The crowd of negroes, male and female, large
and small, stare with wondering admiration at
the beautiful being who appears on the rear plat-
form of the car accompanied by such a perfect
Adonis of a man.

Lucy Burton was an object not likely to escape
attention. Her full round form, slender, yet
molded into most delicious curves, was shown to
perfection by the tight-fitting traveling gown of

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some kind of soft stuff that she wore ; her happy,
beautiful face, bright with the love-light in her
hazel eyes, presented a picture calculated to cause
even the most fastidious to stare. To the ignor-
ant black people she was a revelation of loveli-
ness.

As the negroes, in opened-mouthed wonder,
came closer and clustered about the steps of the
car, their great eyes wide and white, Lucy drew
back a little and somewhat timidly slipped her
hand into her husband's, whispering:

"I am afraid of them, they are so black and
shocking with their rolling eyes and thick lips."

"Nonsense! sweetheart," said Walter with a
laugh not all together spontaneous.

"They are a merry, gentle folk, gay and good-
natured; the Southern people would have no
other nurses for their babies. I thought Xew
England people had long since ceased to notice
the color of mankind's skin.

"But, Walter, how horrid they are! We see
so few of them in New England that they don't
seem like these. How dreadfully black and bru-
tal they are. Let us go inside, I really am

BLOOD WILL TELL

afraid I" cried Lucy in a low voice and started
to retreat.

At that moment a tall and very black woman
who held a "baby at her breast, negro-like, car-
ried away by thoughtless good nature and ad-
miration for the lovely stranger, raised her ink-
colored picaninny, and in motherly pride thrust
it forward until its little wooly black head almost
touched Lucy's bosom.

With one glance of loathing, terror and un-
concealed horror at the object resting nearly on
her breast, Lucy gave a scream of fear and fled.
Throwing herself on one of the settees in the car
she buried her face among the cushions and wept
solely from fright and nervousness.

"Why! sweetheart, what is the matter? There
is nothing to fear. Those poor people were only
admiring you, my darling," cried Burton hurry-
ing to his young wife's side and seeking to quiet
her fears.

"I can't help it, Walter, all those black faces
crowded together near to me was awful, and that
dreadful little black thing almost touched me,''
sobbed Lucy nervously.

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"Darling, the dreadful little black thing was
only a harmless baby," replied the husband sooth-
ingly.

"Baby!" cried the astonished young woman,
lifting her head from the cushions and regard-
ing her companion through her undried tears
with doubt, as if suspecting him of joking,
"I thought it was an ape or some hideous little
imp ! Baby !" and seeing that there was no joke
about what her husband said, she added:

"I didn't know negroes looked like that when
babies. I would not touch that loathsome, hor-
rid thing for worlds. It made my flesh fairly
quiver to see it even near me."

Walter Burton succeeded in allaying the alarm
of his wife only after the train had resumed its
rapid journey southward. When Lucy, lulled to
sleep by the low music of the guitar which he
played to distract her attention from the unpleas-
ant recollection, no longer demanded his presence,
Burton sought the smoking-room of the car and
passed an hour in solemn, profound meditation,
as he puffed continuously fragrant Havanas.

"I was wrong ! She did not know. Now she

BLOOD WILL TELL

never shall if I can prevent it." Such were the
words of Lucy's husband when throwing away
his cigar he arose to rejoin his young wife.
***** * *

Many hundred miles from flowery Florida
across a watery way, a ship was wildly tossing
upon an angry, sullen sea. For three days and
nights with ceaseless toil, in constant danger, the
weary crew had battled with howling winds and
tempestuous waves.

A storm of awe-inspiring fury had burst upon
the- good ship "Adams," of Boston, bound for
Melbourne, on the night of December the nine-
teenth in that good year of our Lord.

The superb seamanship of the skipper, com-
bined with the prompt alacrity of the willing
crew, alone saved the ship from adding her
broken frame to that countless multitude which
rest beneath the waves.

The wind was still blowing a gale, but there
was perceptibly less force in it, as shrieking it
tore through the rigging and against the almost
bare masts, than there had been in three days.

Two men stood in the cabin, enveloped in oil-

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skins, with rubber boots reaching above their
knees. Their eyes were red from wind
and watching, while they answered the
'heave of the ^hip wearily as if worn out with the
excessive labor of the last seventy-two hours.
The men were the two mates of the "Adams. "
The captain had sent them below for a glass of
grog and a biscuit. There had been no fire in
the galley for the three days that the storm had
beaten upon the ship.

"The skipper must be made of iron," said the
shorter man, Morgan, the second officer.

"He has hardly left the deck a minute since the
squall strudk us, and he is as quick and strong
as a shark," he continued, munching on the bis-
cuit and balancing himself carefully as he raised
his glass of grog.

"Every inch a sailor is the skipper," growled
the larger man hoarsely.

"Sailed with Captain Dunlap in the 'Lucy/
and no better master ever trod a quarter-deck,"
added Mr. Brioe, the first officer of the "Adams."

"He surely knows his business and handles the
ship with the ease a Chinaman does his chop-

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sticks, but he's the surliest, most silent skipper
I ever sailed with. You told us, Mr. Brice, when
you came aboard that he was the jolliest; was
he like this when you were with him on the
'Lucy'?" said the second mate inquiringly.

"No, he wasn't!" mum'bled old Brice in an-
swer.

"Somethin' went wrong with him ashore," add-
ing angrily as he turned and glared at his young
companion :

"But 'tis none of your blamed business or mine
neither what's up with the skipper; you didn't
ship for society, did you?"

"That's right enough, Mr. Brice, but I 'cell you
What 'tis, the men think the captain a little out
of trim in the sky-sail. They say he walks about
ship at night like a ghost and does queer things.
Second day of the storm, the twentieth, in the
evening, while it was blowing great guns and
ship pitching like she'd stick her nose under for-
ever, I was standin' by to help Collins at the
wheel ; we see the skipper come staggering along
aft balancing himself careful as a rope walker
an a holdin' a glass of wine in his hand. When

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he gets to the rail at the stern he holds up high
the glass and talks to wind, Davy Jones or some-
thin', drinks the wine and hurls the glass to hell
and gone into the sea. How's that, mate? Col-
lins looks at me and shakes his head, and I feels
creepy myself."

For a minute Brice, with red and angry eyes,
stared at the second mate, then he burst out in a
roar:

"I'll knock the head off 'er Collins, and marlin
spike the rest 'er the bloomin' sea lawyers in the
for'castle if I catch them talkin' erbout the skip-
per, and I tell you, Mr. Second Mate, you keep
your mouth well shut or you'll get such 'er keel
•haulin' you won't fergit. Captain Dunlap is no
man to projec'k with and he's mighty rough in
er shindy."

With that closing admonition the first officer
turned and climbed the reeling stairs that led to
the dedk. As he emerged from the companion-
way a great wave struck the side of ship heeling
her over and hurling the mate against the man
who had formed the topic of discussion in the
cabin below.

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The skipper was wet to the skin; he had
thrown aside his oil-skins to enable him to move
more nimbly, his face was worn, drawn and al-
most of leaden hue. Deep lines and the dark
circles around his eyes told a story of loss of
sleep, fatigue and anxiety. How much of this
was due to an aching pain in the heart only Him
to whom all things are revealed could know.

Morgan's story was true. He had described
when, how and under what conditions Jack had
pledged Lucy in a glass of wine on her wedding
day, praying God to send blessings and happiness
to his lost love.

Sing sweet mocking birds ! Shine genial sun !
Bloom fairest flowers of Sunny Florida! Bliss
be thine, loved Lucy ! Dream not of the ocean's
angry roar! The tempest's cruel blast!

102

VII.

I REALLY can hardly realize, grand-
father, that I have been married one
year and that today is che anniversary
of my wedding," exclaimed Mrs. Walter Burton
to 'her grandfather, as lingering over a late break-
fast, they chatted in a desultory manner on many
subjects.

The breakfast-room of the Dunlap mansion
was one of the prettiest apartments in the house ;
bright and airy, with great windows reaching
from ceiling to floor, which flooded the place with
sunshine and cheerfulness this brilliant snowy
New England morning.

Surely it had been difficult to find anything
prettier than the young matron who presided
over the sparkling service with the grace of the
school-girl still visible notwithstanding the re-
cently assumed dignity of wife.

Lucy Burton's face and form possessed that

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rare quality of seeming always displayed' to best
advantage in the last costume she wore. Nothing
could be more becoming than the lace-trimmed
breakfast gown of a clinging silky, pink fabric
worn by her this morning.

The tete-a-tete between grandfather and
granddaughter each morning over the breakfast-
table was an established and, to both, a cherished
custom that had grown up since Lucy's mar-
riage.

Mr. James Dunlap carried his seventy-three
years as lightly as many men of less rugged con^
stitutions carry fifty. His was a fresh, healthy,
'kindly old face, the white hair resting like the
snow on some Alpine peak served but to heighten
the charm of those goodly features below.

"A year to young people means very little, I
judge, daughter, but we old folk regard it differ-
ently. You have been away from me during the
last year so much that old man as I am, the time
has dragged," the grandfather replied laying
aside his morning paper and adjusting his glasses
that he might see better the pretty face across
the table.

104 '

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Now, that I look at you, my dear, apparently
you have not aged to any alarming extent since
you have become a matron," jocosely added the
old gentleman, his eyes beaming lovingly on his
granddaughter.

"I may not show it, still I have my troubles."
Lucy's attempt to wrinkle her smooth brow and
draw down the corners of her sweet mouth while
she tried to muster up a sigh was so ridiculous
that her companion began to laugh.

"Don't laugh at me, grandfather ; it's unkind,"
cried Lucy, with the childish manner that still
crept out when alone with him who had been both
father and mother to her.

"Very well, deary, I shall not laugh. Tell me
of those dire troubles that afflict you," rejoined
her still smiling grandfather.

"Well! now there is Walter, obliged to run
away so early to that horrid old office that I never
see him at the breakfast-table," began the young
creature with pretty pettishness.

"Sad! indeed sad!" said Mr. Dunlap in af-
fected sorrow. "A gay young couple attend
some social function or the theatre nigMy and

105

maMOM n— i

BLOOD WILL TELL

are up late ; the unfortunate young husband is
obliged to be at his office at ten o'clock in the
morning to save an old man of seventy odd from
routine labor; the young wife who is fond of a
morning nap must breakfast alone, save the com-
panionship of an o'ld fogy of a grandfather ; 'tis
the saddest situation I ever heard of."

The laughter in the old gentleman's throat
gurgled like good wine poured for welcome guest
as Lucy puckered up her lips at him.

"Then that hateful old 'Eyrie.' When we were
married and y'oU insisted that we should live here
with you, which, of course, I expected to do, I
thought Walter would sell or lease that lonely
bachelor den of his, but he has done no such
thing ; says he keeps up the establishment for the
sake of the conservatory, which is the finest in
the State," proceeded the wife ruefully recount-
ing her alleged woes.

"Walter speaks truly concerning the conserva-
tory at the 'Eyrie.' Mr. Foster Agnew, who is
authority on the subject, says that he has never
seen a finer collection of rare and beautiful plants
and flowers in any private conservatory in this

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counry," replied Mr. Dunlap in defense of Bur-
ton's action in maintaining his former home.

"Yes, but there is no reason for Walter's run-
ning up there at all hours of the night, and some-
times even staying there all night, telling me that
he is anxious about the temperature; that Leo-
pold may fall asleep or neglect something. I
hate that miserable conservatory," rejoined Lucy
with flushed face and flashing eyes.

"Ob! Pshaw! you exacting little witch! You
are fearfully neglected by reason of the 'Eyrie's'
conservatory, are you? Now, let me see. You
were in Florida and California two months of
the last year, and in Europe four more, leaving
just six months that you have spent in Boston
.since your marriage. I suppose Walter has spent
a half dozen nights at the 'Eyrie.' Great tribula-
tion and trial," rejoined the amused grandfather.

"Well, but Walter knows I don't like his going
there at night. Something might happen to
him," persisted Lucy, woman-like seizing any
argument to gain her point.

"As Princess Lucy does not like it, s'he thinks
that should be a sufficient reason for the visits

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to the 'Eyrie' at night 4o cease. Being accus-
tomed to that humble and abject obedience ren-
dered to her slightest wish by the old slaves John
and James, and the young slave, Jack Dunlap.
Is that it, Princess?" said the old gentleman mak-
ing a mocking salaam to 'Her Highness' as he
sometimes called his pretty vis-a-vis.

"Stop making fun of me, grandfather; I think
you are really unkind. I never made slaves of
you and Uncle John and good old Jack. Did I
now ?"

Lucy Burton surely was a beauty. Small won-
der that the Dunlap men, old and young, loved
her long before Walter Burton came to win her.
She looked so pretty as she asked the last ques-
tion that her grandfather held 'out his hands and
said :

"Come here, my dear, and kiss me. I forgive
you if you 'have been an exacting ruler." When
Lucy settled herself on the arm of his chair as
some graceful bird of gay plumage perches itself
on a twig, the fine old face was filled with ten-
derness and love as he kissed her.

Lucy pa'ssed her soft white arm around her

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grandfather's neck, and resting her dimpled
cheek on his snowy head, she said seriously:

"That is not all of my reason for disliking the
'Eyrie.' You 'know, grandfather, I should not
discuss my husband with any one other than
yourself, so this is a secret; I have noticed that
whenever Walter makes an all-night visit to the
'Eyrie' that the trip is preceded by an outburst
of unusual hilarity on his part ; in fact, on such
occasions I am almost annoyed by something
nearly undignified in Walter's demeanor; he
seemis as thoughtless as a child, says and does
things that are ridiculous and silly."

"Tut, tut, child, you have a very vivid imagi-
nation, and are so anxious for everyone to regard
your husband with the exaggerated admiration
that you have for him, that you are allowing
yourself to become hyperergic, my pet," re-
joined Mr. Dunlap reassuringly.

"No, grandfather, you are mistaken. I not
alone notice something peculiar about Walter's
periodical outbursts of unseemly mirth; I see
others regard with surprise this departure from
his customary reposeful dignity," insisted the

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young wife earnestly with a note of indignation
in her voice when speaking of others observing
any thing strange in the conduct of her husband.

"Oh ! nonsense, Lucy, all young men occasion-
ally cast aside dignity. In the fullness of youth
and vigor they become now and again fairly exu-
berant with happiness and forget all about the
conventionalities of society. I have seen nothing
about Walter in that particular different from
other young men. Don't make yourself wretched
over nothing, little girl."

"Possibly I observe my husband with more
attention than anyone else, even than you, grand-
father, for I certainly perceive a great differenti-
ation between Walter's spasmodic mirth and sim-
ilar exhibitions by other men. Walter seems
different in many ways that mystify me. On
every occasion that he remains all night at the
'Eyrie/ after a display of this extraordinary and
boyish merriment, he returns home the next day
with broad dark circles around his eyes, and is

in a most depressed state of spirits," said the
young wife, with real anxiety revealed in the
tone of her voice.
no

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"Well, really, daughter, if you are anxious
concerning what you say, I shall observe Walter
■more closely. He may be over exerting himself
by the late hours that he keeps in your company,
and the detail work that he has taken off my
hands. However, just as a venture, I will wager
a box of gloves against a kiss, deary, that Walter
does not appear in the condition you have de-
scribed this evening, notwithstanding that he
passed last night at the 'Eyrie' and was markedly
mirthful during last evening," said Lucy's grand-
father, passing his arm around her slim waist and
drawing his anxious girl to his heart.

"I am glad you mentioned last evening, for I
wish to speak of something I noticed during the
serving of dinner and afterward. Who was that
old gentleman whom you introduced as Pro-
fessor Charlton?" said the young woman inter-
rogatively.

"Oh, that is my old friend and fellow classmate
when we were at Harvard. He is a Georgian
and is Dean of the Georgia University and one
of the most learned ethnologists in the world. He
is here to consult with Professor Wright of Har-

iii

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vard concerning a forthcoming book on which
Charlton has been engaged for years. Now, that
I have answered fully, why were you curious
about that old book- worm and chum of mine, my
pretty inquisitor?"

"Simply because he seemed perfectly fasci-
nated by my husband. He appeared unable to
remove his gaze from him even when addressed
by you or any one else. He would peer at him
over his glasses, then raise his head and inspect
Walter through them just as botanists do when
they come upon some rare plant."

"By Jove! What next will that brown head
of your's conjure up to worry over? Are you
jealous of old Charlton's admiring glances? If
he were a pretty woman I might understand, but
old Cobb Charlton. We'll! I am prepared for
anything, my pet, so go ahead. What about
those glances seen by your watchful eyes?" said
her grandfather, chuckling over some farcical
suggestion in connection with old Professor
Thos. Cobb Charlton.

"Yes, but they were not admiring glances, and
I didn't say so. They were studious, scrutiniz-

112

BLOOD WILL TELL

ing, investigating, and I thought, insulting," in-
dignantly replied Lucy.

"Ah ! Now we are called upon to criticise the
quality and kind of glance with which an old
student may regard a gay young fellow who is
rattling gleefully through a somewhat tedious
dinner," said Mr. Dunlap in an amused manner.

"You may laugh at me, grandfather, as much
as you please, but Walter was made so nervous
and uncomfortable by that old fellow's discon-
certing scrutiny that he acted almost silly. I
have never seen him quite so ridiculously merry.
That old Professor squinted even at Walter's
hands, as if he wished for a microscope to exam-
ine themi, and after dinner while Walter was
singing he edged up near the piano and peered
down Walter's throat, listening intently as if to
catch some peculiar note for which he was wait-
ing, all the time with his old head on one side
like an* ugly owl," said the exasperated young
woman.

'Lucy's description of his old college friend
and her manner of setting forth his idiosyncra-
cies was too much for James Dnnlap's risibility.

ii3

■■■m iwi mi miii 111 iii ii ii mi iiiiiihiiiii»hmhihi«mibm

BLOOD WILL TELL

He threw back his head and incontinently
laughed in his granddaughter's pretty flushed
face.

"Oh ! my, Oh ! my ! How old Cobb would en-
joy this! My dearest, old Cobb Charlton is the
jolliest, most amiable fellow on earth. He would
not wound the sensibilities of a street-dog, and
is one of the best bred gentlemen alive. Oh ! my,
Lucy! You'll be the death of me yet with your
whimsical notions," cried the fine old fellow lean-
ing back in his chair, shaking with laughter.

"Well, I don't care; it is just as I said, for
finally, he seemed to discover something about
Walter for which he had been seeking. I saw a
self-satisfied smile steal over his face as he
nodded his bushy white head. Then he stared
at you as if amazed, and then, if I be not blind
and I don't think that I am, he had the imperti-
nence to look at me with, actually, pity in his
big, staring black eyes," retorted Lucy angrily
as she recalled the events of the previous even-
ing.

"Imagination, pure and simple !" exclaimed
Mr. Dunlap, continuing to laugh, enjoying huge-
ly Lucy's anger.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

'''Charlton was possibly thinking about some-
thing connected with his favorite science and
probably did not even see us while apparently
he was casting about those peculiar glances that
you depict so vividly.''

"Even so, I think it ill-bred and unkind in him
to make my husband the subject of a study in
ethnology."

"Ah !" gasped her grandfather, as though a
sudden pain had struck his heart. Some new
idea had flashed upon his brain, the laughter van-
ished from lips and the color from his face. He
straightened up in his chair while a look of anx-
iety replaced the merriment that had sparkled in
his eyes.

"Why, what is the matter, grandfather ?" cried
Lucy in undisguised alarm at the change in his
countenance.

"Nothing, my darling, it will pass away.
Please hand me a glass of water," the old man
answered.

Lucy hastened to fill a glass with water and
while she was so engaged Mr. Dunlap struggled
to master some emotion that had caused the sud-

115

BLOOD WILL TELL

den departure of all his jocoseness of the moment
before she said that 'her husband had been made
a subject of a study in ethnology.

"I am better now, thank you, dear ; it was just
a little twinge of pain that caught me unaware of
its approach," said the old gentleman forcing a
smile to 'his pale lips.

"And ndw let us talk about your Cousin Jack,
and leave alone the vagaries of a moth-eaten old
scholar wlhom you will probably never see again,"
he continued,- as if eager to banish some disa-
greeable thought from his mind.

"Oh, yes ! Do tell me some news of dear old
Jack. His very name seems to 'bring the purity,
freshness and freedom of the sea into this 'hot-
house life one leads in society. Where is he and
how is he?" cried Lucy enthusiastically at men-
tion of the name of her sailor cousin.

"You recall, do you not, the brief mention that
'he made in the first letter that we received after
he sailed of a fearful storm encountered by his
ship when not less than a month out from Bos-
ton, and that his ship (so he wrote) had been
fortunate enough to rescue some people from a

116

BLOOD WILL TELL

foundered and sinking vessel during the gale?"
asked Mr. Dunlap regaining gradually his com-
posure as his mind dwelt upon a subject pleasant
to contemplate.

"Yes, surely, I remember, grandfather, because
the storm', I recall, was at its height on my wed-
ding day and I wondered at the time if in all that
fearful danger Jack even thought of me."

"Well, then ! to begin with I must let you into
a state secret. Your good! Uncle John the day
before Jack sailed insisted that he should carry
old Brice, who had been long in our service, as
one of his mates. John's object was this: know-
ing Jack's pride and obstinacy, he feared that he
might need 'help and not apply to us* for it, so he
sent for Brice and bribed him to stick by our
young kinsman and 'keep us informed concerning
his welfare. We have had only glowing accounts
of Jack's success as a ship-owner from Brice.
Yesterday there came a letter and a copy of a
London paper from him that filled my heart with
pride and pleasure, and I know will overjoy your
uncle.

"Do hurry, grandfather. I can't wait long to

117

BLOOD WILL TELL

rnii'./jwj .tAimmm MWMHramjLmm

hear fine things about my good, faithful old
Jack," exclaimed Lucy impatiently, as she re-
sumed her place on the arm of the old man's
chair.

"This is what the report in the London news-
paper states, and is what neither Jack nor Brice
wrote home. The s'hip that foundered was filled
with emigrants from Ireland bound for Aus-
tralia. The fourth day of the storm she was
sighted by the 'Adams/ While the wind had
subsided somewhat the waves were still rolling
mountain high. When Jack called for volun-
teers to man the boats the crew hung in the wind,
until Jack, noticing the women and children on
the deck of the sinking s'hip, called to Brice to
come with him., and pushing aside the reluctant
crew made ready to spring into a boat which had
been lowered. Then the shamed crew rushed
over the side and insisted that the captain allow
•them to make the attempt to rescue the people
from the wrecked vessel. With the last boat-
load of the emigrants that came safely on board
of the 'Adams' was a little girl who, weeping
bitterly, cried that her sick mother had been left
behind. The sailors and Mr. Morgan, the sec-

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irrrxrrwaca

BLOOD WILL TELL

ond mate of the 'Adams/ said that the child's
mother was nearly dead, lying in a hunk in the
sick-hay, and that she had smallpox and no one
dared lift and carry her to the boat."

"What an awful position ! What did Jack
say?" cried Lucy, breaking the thread of 'her
grandfather's narrative.

"Jack did not say much, but he did that that
makes me proud to call him my kinsman, a Dun-
lap and a Yankee sailor. He whispered to the
ehild not to cry any more, that she should have
her mother brought to her. Then he leaped into
the boat and was shoving off to make the trip
alone to the wreck when old Brice tumbled over
the ship's side and took his place at an oar. Jack
brought the woman in his arms from the sick-
bay and laid her in the boat, regaining his own
ship, he made the smallpox patient comfortable in
his own cabin, nursed her himself and saved her

life," said Mr. Dunlap exultantly, relating the
report of the rescue as published in the English
journal.

"Hurrah! for our noble Jack!" cried Lucy,
springing up and waving about her head a nap-
kin that lay upon the table.

119

BLOOD WILL TELL

"But hear the end, daughter, in recognition of
the humanity of the generous deed, the Royal
Humane Society of England has presented both
Jack and Brice with medals, and as an extraor-
dinary mark of distinction, the King of England
has, with his own hand, written a letter to our
Jack, congratulating him upon the performance
of a noble, unselfish and courageous act," added
the grandfather.

"Three times three ! for brave Jack Dunlap !
Hurrah, for the blood of a good old Yankee race
that tells its story in noble deeds," and waving
the improvised banner above her fair head she
bent down and kissed the glowing cheek of the
proud old man.

"Run along now, d'ear, and dress. You may
take me for a sleigh-ride behind your fast ponies
before I go down to the office."

As Lucy went upstairs, there came floating
back to 'her grandfather's ears her fresh, musical
voice singing:

It's a Yankee ship,
It's a Yankee crew,
That's first on waters blue.

120

VIII.

ARLY in the miorning after Mr. Bun-
lap's dinner-party in honor of Professor
Charlton, when the newly risen sun had
ma'de a dazzling field of glittering diamonds of
the snow that lay white and spotless about the
'Eyrie/ Walter Burton threw up the sash of one
of the long, low windows in his sitting-room and
stepped out on the balcony.

With a sigh of relief he drank in deep draughts
of the fresh, crisp air, and exclaimed as he.
shaded his eyes :

"What a blessing is fresh air and sunlight after
the closeness of the house and gas-light."

The man's face was 'haggard and drawn like
one who 'has passed a night of vigil and suffer-
ing. His eyes were surrounded by bands of
black that gave to them a hollow appearance.

"How utterly idiotic and inexplicable seems

my mood and conduct of last night out here in

121

BLOOD WILL TELL

the sunshine, now that I am my natural self once
more."

Burton walked down from the balcony on the
crackling snow that lay dry and sparkling on the
lawn in front of the house. After a few mo-
ments spent in the exercise of pacing about and
swinging his arms, he returned to his sitting-
room refreshed and apparently restored to his
usual condition of mind.

All around the room that he entered were scat-
tered promiscuously, musical instruments, books,
cushions, flowers and fragments of a late supper,
all in that confusion that could not fail to impress
the beholder with the idea that the room had
been recently the scene of reckless orgies. Pil-
lows heaped upon a sofa still bore the imprint of
some one's head, and was evidently the couch
from which the young man had risen when he
went forth into God's bright sunlight.

With supreme disgust depicted on his aesthetic
countenance, Walter Burton gazed at the evi-
dence of his nocturnal revel while in that state
of mind he had named idiotic.

"These sporadic spells of silliness which come

122

BLOOD WILL TELL

timumnjjLggniiiiTW>i;i *-«« f 'um

over my spirit are as revolting to me, when re-
lieved from their influences, as is incomprehensi-
ble the cause of their coming," muttered Burton,
kicking aside the various articles that littered the
floor.

"What earthly reason could there be for the
peculiar effect produced upon me by the scrutiny
of that old professor from the South? There ex-
ists nothing natural to account for the strange
sensation caused by the penetrating gaze of that
old Southerner.

"The cause must be sought in the sphere of the
supernatural, a province wherein reason, educa-
tion and culture protest against my wandering."
Pausing the young man strove to recall the
scenes and sensations of the previous night, but
in vain.

"It is useless for me to struggle to bring back
the vanished state of feeling that possessed me
last evening. It refuses to pass before the spec-
trum of my mind.

"It is ever thus while the normal condition of
my mental faculties exists. I always fail to catch
the fleeting shadow of that distorting spectre that

123

BLOOD WILL TELL

haunts my spirit with its degrading, masterful
influence.

"Could I but hold that sensation that steals
upon me, while my mental powers are yet unim-
paired by its presence, I might make a diagnosis
of the disease, analyze the cause and produce the
remedy, but my attempts are always futile. I
fail to reproduce the feeling that was all-pervad-
ing a few short hours before the current of my
mind returned to its accustomed channel."

The helplessness and baffled look upon the
man's face as he ended this self-communion was
piteous. Throwing himself into a chair and cov-
ering his face with his hands, he cried almost
with a moan :

"To what depth of degradation, brutality and
crime may I not be carried while actuated by a
power foreign and antagonistic to all that Chris-
tianity, morality and education have imparted to
me?"

"My God! How I had hoped that time and
marriage would cause a diminution in the power
of these strange spells and the frequency of their

124

BLOOD WILL TELL

visits, until, at last, I might be freed from a
thralldom repugnant to all my better self."

"Vain that hoped for release ! Rather do the
mysterious visitations increase in frequency, and
alas ! also in power."

"Like insidious waves that sap and undermine
the foundation of some massive granite cliff, the
delusive tide recedes but to return, each succeed-
ing visit adding to the inroad already ma'de.
Though small may be the gain, they never once
relax their firm grip upon the headway won be-
fore, until the toppling mass comes crashing from
its majestic height, vanquished by and victim of
unremitting insidiousness."

"So I find with each recurrence of the tide of
the strange spell that submerges me. That
granite clirT of Christianity whereon I builded
my castle of morality, that bastion of education,
those redoubts of refinement, culture, aesthetics,
deemed by me as creating an impregnable for-
tress wherein by the aid of civilization I should
find secure shelter, are trembling and toppling,
undermined by the waves of that inexplicable,
relentless influence."

125

BLOOD WILL TELL

''Each attack finds me weaker to resist, each
advance carries me further from my fortress ; I
feel my defense falling ; I am drawing nearer to
the brink; shall I fall? Shall I go crashing
-down, dragged from my high estate by some
fiendish tendency as inexorable as it is degrad-
ing?"

"As yet I am enabled to resist beyond the
point of insensate silliness and folly, but each
returning shock is accompanied by ever stronger
suggestion of immorality, brutality and crime.
S'hall I be strong enough always to repulse this
tireless current of assault? Shall I finally suc-
cumb and fall to the level of the barbarian and
the beast? Soul harrowing thought!"

"The insane or drink frenzied man is uncon-
scious of his acts, but such is not my miserable
fate, while held in bondage by that unknown
power I appreciate the absurdity of my every act.
I still am I, but powerless to control myself; I
catc'h the look of wonder that fills the eyes of
others. I feel the shame, but am powerless to
remove the cause."

"And, oh! the horror of seeing and recogniz-

126

BLOOD WILL TELL

ing a look of rebuke and repulsion in the eyes of
those I love and those who love me. To see the
smile of pride vanish and the blush of mortifica-
tion succeed it on the face of that being of all the
world to me the dearest and fairest."

"Last night in my dear Lucy's eyes I read re-
proof, rebuke, and on her cheeks I saw the red
flag of shame. Cognizant of the cause, I, like a
leaf upon the current of some mighty cataract,
helpless, rushed along in humiliation and self-
disgust. I beat against the stream with all my
remaining strength of mind; I struggled to re-
gain the shore of my accustomed dignity, but all
in vain."

"I was carried on and on, until plunging over
the brink of the fall I struck the bottom where
lie those self-respect destroying rocks of dis-
grace. In ignominy I fled and sought refuge
here ; ceasing my unavailing efforts to break the
chain that held me I gave free rein to the influ-
ences that governed my mood."

"Wild and ribald songs burst from my lips,
hilarious and lascivious music poured from the
instruments that I touched, movements, rythmic

127

BLOOD WILL TELL

but novel, fantastic, barbarous, jerked my limbs
about in the measure of some isavage dance. I
ate and drank more as an untutored tribesman of
the jungle than a civilized citizen df our cultured
country."

"All unrestrained and unopposed that mystify-
ing mood bore me on recklessly, abandoned, until
it swept me to the very verge of wickedness and
sin. On the extremist edge of that precipice,
below w'hich lies the gulf of infamy, I found
strength to grasp and hold the feeble tendrils of
that higher estate that still clung around me ; in
every fiber of my being there surged Satanic
suggestions to relinquish my hold upon the frag-
ile stay to which I desperately clung, and take the
plunge into that dark gulf below."

"Go where base associates await you ! Where
lewdness, lasciviousness, brutality, beastliness
and licensed libidinousness lead to savage satiety
that ends in blood. These were the suggestive
words whispered to me by that fiendish spirit
of these strange 'spells. They vibrated through
every nerve and vein of my racked and straining
being."

128

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Thank God! I still had power of soul suffi-
cient to resist, but Lord! how long shall I be
enabled to avert that which is seemingly my
doom?"

Burton arose and for several minutes walked
a'bout the apartment with agitated, nervous tread.
Passing before a long mirror that stood between
the windows, he stopped suddenly before it,
gazed intently at his image reflected there, and
cried out:

"The reflection there tells me that I appear to
be as other men around me. In stature and
'features I seem1 not essentially at variance with
the average man I meet, perhaps I am even more
comely. What then is it that caused me to fall
shamefaced, embarrassed and simpering like a
silly 'school boy, before the scrutiny of that old
scholar last night?"

"I hold the Christian faith; I possess more
than the ordinary degree of education common
in this country; I have acquired proficiency in
many accomplishments ; I bear the impress of the
culture and refinement of this most enlightened
century, and yet! and yet!"

129

BLOOD WILL TELL

"The searching, piercing glance of that old' sci-
entist seemed to penetrate some concealing veil
and tearing it aside revealed me in my very
nakedness; I seemed to stand forth an exposed
impostor; I felt myself a self-confessed charlatan,
caught in the very act of masquerading in the
stolen trappings of my superiors; I became the
buffoon in borrowed gown and cap of the philos-
opher, an object of ridicule and wrath."

"Before those deep seeing eyes I was no longer
self-assured; convicted of mimicking manners
foreign to myself, I seemed to cast aside the un-
availing, purloined mask and mummery and thus
reveal myself a fraud. Seeking safety from the
scorn and just resentment of the defrauded I took
refuge in pitiful imbecility and silliness."

"Once before the same experience was mine.
In Paris, at the American Ambassador's recep-
tion I met the Liberian minister. As soon as the
gigantic black man fastened his gaze upon me, I
became disconcerted. When we clasped hands
all the feeling of superiority that education gives
departed from me, all the refined sentiments
created by culture vanished, I could only simper

130

BLOOD WILL TELL

and chuckle like a child over senseless jokes as
did the negro giant beside me."

"On that occasion, fearing to shock and disgust
my bride, I stole like a thief from her side and
feigning sudden illness begged a friend to take
my place as escort of my wife, while as one bereft
of reason I raced along the boulevards and buried
myself beneath the dark shade of the trees in the
Bois de Boulogne, where, capering and shouting
madly I danced until, exhausted, I fell to the
ground."

As Burton stood regarding his image reflected
in the mirror, he became suddenly aware of how
wan and worn was the face before him and turn-
ing wearily away he exclaimed,

"I must throw aside these wretched recollec-
tions and forebodings. I look absolutely ill. I
shall be in no condition to appear either at the
office or at my home unless I succeed in obliter-
ating some of the evidences of my suffering last
night."

When, by a mighty effort, he had acquired suf-
ficient control of his nerves and voice as not to
attract the attention of his valet, he rang the bell.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

"Viator, prepare my bath, lay out some linen
and a proper suit of clothing. Order my break-
fast served as soon as I ring, open the windows
and let fresh air into the room when I leave it,"
said Burton to his attendant, when the valet ap-
peared in answer to his master's summons.

A refreshing bath, a liberal indulgence in
strong, black coffee, assisted by the will power of
the man enabled Burton to enter the office of "J.
Dunlap" almost entirely restored to his custom-
ary appearance.

The Manager had just finished examining the
reports submitted by the heads of the various de-
partments of the great Shipping and Banking
house when the door of his office opened and the
Superintendent entered.

David Chapman looked even more hawk-like,
hungry and eager than when he had stood one
year before in the same place.

"Beg pardon, Mr. Burton, but I thought you
might wish to be informed of the fact that under
instructions from Mr. Dunlap, I am forwarding
by the steamer that leaves today for Hong Kong,
a package and some letters that Mr. Dunlap gave

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BLOOD WILL TELL

me to send to Captain Jack Dunlap. The pack-
age contains, I believe, a testimonial of Mr. Dun-
lap's admiration for the noble conduct of his kins-
man in connection with the rescue from the wreck
of that emigrant ship. As I am availing myself
of the opportunity to communicate my own opin-
ion concerning Captain Jack's action, I thought it
not improbable that you would wish to send some
message," said the Superintendent, peering
stealthily at Burton as he spoke.

"I thank you, Chapman, most heartily for let-
ting me know this/' cried Burton warmly.

"How much time may I have to prepare a let-
ter and package to accompany yours and Mr.
Dunlap's?"

"Mr. Dunlap told me to hold the package until
he arrived at the office as it was likely that his
grandaughter would wish to place some commun-
ication for her cousin with his."

"And I am sure she will ! My wife's admira-
tion for her cousin Jack is unbounded. I will
hasten to prepare my contribution to the congrat-
ulations sent to Captain Jack. He is a magnifi-
cent man and I am proud to be connected in any-
way with such a noble character."

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BLOOD WILL TELL

"You are right, sir. Jack Dunlap is a brave,
true man and comes of a brave, true race. His
actions prove that blood will tell," rejoined Chap-
man with more enthusiasm than it seemed pos-
sible for one of his disposition to exhibit.

"Oh ! Pshaw ! Nonsense ! I give Jack
greater credit for his courage and faithfulness
than you do when you announce the absurd doc-
trine that men inherit such qualities. I give him
alone credit for what he is, not his race or blood.
Blood may be well enough in hounds and horses,
but education and culture make the man not the
blood in his veins," exclaimed Burton impatiently.

"The same reason that exists for the superior-
ity of the well-bred horse or dog, causes the man
of a good race to be the superior of the man of
an inferior race," said Chapman meaningly, with
an almost imperceptible sneer in the tone of his
voice.

"That argument might hold good provided that
men like horses carried jockeys to furnish the in-
telligence or like hounds had huntsmen to guide
them," replied the Manager with more heat than
seemed justified.

134

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Give a mule the most astute jockey on earth
and he is no match for the thorough-bred horse.
Give the mongrel cur the craftiest huntsman, he
can neither find nor hold as the hound of pure
blood. Give the man of inferior race every ad-
vantage that education and culture can furnish,
he still remains inferior to the man of the purer,
better race and blood. The superiority of the lat-
ter lies in the inherent qualities of his race," re-
plied Chapman, while a sinister smile distorted
his thin scarlet lips, and a baleful light flashed
from his black eyes. For a moment he waited to
see the effect of his last speech, then turned and
glided from the Manager's office.

135

IX.

ARABELLA CHAPMAN was the neat-
est of housekeepers. The sitting room
of the home of David Chapman was a
pattern of tidiness and cleanliness, the furniture
was rubbed and polished until it shone like glass,
every picture, rug and curtain was as speckless as
newly fallen snow.

Miss Arabella seemed especially created to
form the central figure of her surroundings, as
seated on a low rocking chair, she plied a neat lit-
tle needle on some nice little article of lace-work.

No tiny, tidy wren was ever brighter and more
chipper in its shining little brass cage than was
Miss Arabella, as, bird-like, she peeped at her
brother, when he drew the cover from the violon-
cello which stood in one corner of the room.

"I am glad to see that you intend passing the
evening at home, David," piped up the ancient
maiden.

136

BLOOD WILL TELL

"It has really been so long since we had any
music that I am delighted to see you uncover
your violoncello," continued the twin sister of
David Chapman.

"Well, Arabella, the fact is that in my many
excursions during the last year I have collected
such a quantity of food for thought, that, like a
well filled camel I feel it necessary to pause and
chew the cud awhile," replied David arranging
some sheets of music on a stand and passing his
hand lovingly over the chords of the instrument
that he held.

"I must admit that I should prefer to remain
hungry mentally forever if to procure food for
thought it were necessary to don the apparel of a
tramp, and prowl around at all hours of the night,
seeking, doubtless, in the vilest dens, among the
lowest vagabonds for mental sustenance," chirped
Arabella sharply, prodding her needlework spite-
fully.

"Perhaps, my good sister, you will never quite
undertand that some men are born investigators.
By nature they are led to investigate any phenom-
enon that presents itself."

137

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Then I insist that it is a most unfortunate
thing for one so born," pecked Miss Arabella
with the sharpness of a quarrelsome English
sparrow.

"It causes one to make a Paul Pry of himself
and wander about in a very questionable manner
at unseemly hours, to the injury of both health
and reputation. When one of your age, David,
is so endowed by nature it is a positive misfor-
tune."

Chapman appeared greatly amused by the irri-
tated manner of his sister, for he smiled in that
ghastly way of his as he leaned back in his chair,
still with his violoncello resting between his legs,
and said,

"You see, Arabella, there may be a great dif-
ference in the way we regard the affairs of life.
Doubtless scientific researches may not afford
much pleasure to a spinster of your age, but such
researches are very attractive to me."

"All I can add to the opinion already expressed
is that when your so-called scientific researches
not alone lead you to assume the character of an
outcast, and cause you to wander about at night

138

w— — hi—iimim ■ ■■iiw— mn iiiwii i ■■■ hi ■unman mm

BLOOD WILL TELL

like a homeless cat, but also induce you to make
our home a receptacle for all the stray, vulgar,
dirty negroes that happen to come to Boston, I
must certainly protest against indulgence in such
researches by you," retorted the elderly maiden
severely, as she cast her glances about her immac-
ulately clean apartment, and remembered some
disagreeable event of the last few months.

David was highly amused by this speech, for
he gave utterance to a cackling kind of laugh and
exclaimed,

"Arabella, you'll never get to heaven if the
road be muddy. You will be fearful of getting
your skirts soiled. I shall be right sorry for your
soul if the path to the other place be clean. I
fear in that event that nothing could hold you
back from going straight to Hades." ^jr

"Don't be ridiculous, David. You know full
well that I am no more particular about tidiness
than every other decent woman."

What monomaniac on the subject of cleanliness
ever thought otherwise?

"I insist," continued Miss Arabella indig-
nantly, "that when one indulges a fad to the

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extent of disarranging an entire household, under
the pretense that it is part of a scientific research,
it is time to protest against such proceedings."

"Oh, I don't imagine that the entire household
has seriously suffered by my investigations in the
field of ethnology," replied the brother still enjoy-
ing his sister's perturbation of mind as she re-
called some recent experiences.

"It may be highly amusing to you, David. I
hope that you enjoy the joke, but it has been any-
thing but amusing to me and to Bridget, having
to clean, rub and air every article of furniture in
the house two or three times each week, and it is
no laughing matter to freeze while the cold wind
blows the disgusting odors left by vour guest out
of the rooms. Bridget has notified me that she
will leave if you continue to make a hostelry for
dirty darkies out of the house," said the sister
fairly shivering at the remembrance of the condi-
tion in which she had found her spotless premises
after a visit of some of her brother's newly found
associates.

"I don't think that I am the only member of
this family that has a hobby, Arabella," replied

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Chapman grinning at the flushed little lady.

"I am unaware of what you refer to, David. I
certainly have no such uncomfortable idiosyn-
crasy as a hard ridden hobby."

"Don't you think even cleanliness may become
a most pestiferous hobby?" queried Chapman
with assumed guilelessness.

"Cleanliness and tidiness are but other words
for common decency, and can never be classed
with the vagaries of a 'born investigator/ " said
the spinster sarcastically, sticking her dictum into
her needlework, savagely.

"You doubtless have heard, Arabella, of the
woman who possessed so much of what you call
'common decency' that she forced her family to
live in the barn in order that the dwelling might
remain clean and tidy," answered Chapman, to
whom the wrath of Arabella was the greatest
pleasure imaginable.

"I only wish that we had a 'barn. I would soon
enough force you to entertain your negro visitors
there instead of bringing their odoriferous per-
sons and filthy accompaniments into this house,"
cried the sister vindictively.

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"You must be reasonable, my most precise sis-
ter," said David.

"When I became interested in the science of
ethnology, I deemed it expedient to begin by
studying the negro race, their habits, characteris-
tics, manners and tendencies. Being a man born
and bred in a northern state I have never had the
opportunities possessed by southerners, who are
surrounded by negroes from infancy, to know the
traits of that most interesting race. Hence I have
been forced, on behalf of science, to go forth and
gather such material as was obtainable for sub-
jects of study and observation."

"David, don't be hypocritical with me; you
know that neither ethnology nor the negro race
possessed the slightest interest for you, until you
learned that Walter Burton had a strain of negro
blood in his veins."

"I do not deny that my zeal was not diminished
by that fact," answered Chapman shortly and
dryly.

"And I maintain that your zeal is caused en-
tirely by that fact, and I wish to say further,
David Chapman," exclaimed the withered wisp of

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a woman, drawing herself up very straight in her
chair and looking angrily at her brother, "if all
this investigation and research lead to anything
that may cause trouble, annoyance or pain to
Lucy Dunlap, whom I have held in these arms as
a baby, then I say that you are a wicked, ungrate-
ful man, and I wish to know nothing of your dia-
bolic designs, nor of the disgusting science that
you call ethnology."

God bless the dried-up spinster! God bless
thy bony, skinny arms that held that baby !
Thrice blessed be the good and kindly heart that
beats warmly in thy weak and withered little
body.

Seriously and steadily did Chapman gaze for
a minute at the vehement, fragile figure before
him, then said meditatively,

"I believe she loves the Dunlap name as much
as I do myself."

"More, indeed a great deal more, for I could
not cause pain to one of that name even though
I benefited all the other Dunlaps who have ever
been born by so doing," quickly cried the old
maid.

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"Don't alarm yourself needlessly, sister," said
Chapman earnestly.

"My investigations are neither undertaken to
injure Lucy nor could they do so even had I that
intention. It is too late. I am perfectly frank
and truthful when I state that the subject is ex-
ceedingly interesting to me, and the developments
fascinating. Since I have familiarized myself
somewhat with the leading peculiarities of the
negro race I recognize much more of the negro in
Burton than I imagined could possibly exist in
one possessing so great a preponderance of the
blood of the white race."

"I am glad to learn that no harm can come to
Lucy by your persistent pursuit after knowledge
of ethnology, but I must say it does not seem to
me a very genteel course of conduct for a man of
you age and education to be spying about and
watching an associate in business," said the can-
did Arabella.

"I assure you that I am not obliged either to
play the spy or watch particularly, for it seems
to me that the negro in Burton positively obtrudes
itself daily. In fact I am certain that it is neither

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because I am watching for such evidences, nor
because I can now recognize negro traits better
than formerly, but simply because the negro in
the man becomes daily more obtrusively appar-
ent," answered Dunlap's superintendent as he
began tuning and testing his favorite musical in-
strument.

Even the most prejudiced critic would be
forced to admit that whatever David Chapman
undertook to do he accomplished well. He never
relaxed in persistent effort until an assigned task
was performed. He became for the time being
absolutely fanatic upon any subject he had before
him. His performance on the violoncello was of
the same character as his efforts in other direc-
tions where his attention was demanded. It was
artistic, magnificent, sympathetic and impressive.

To the violoncello Chapman seemed to tell his
soul-story; through it he breathed those hidden
sentiments that were so deeply buried in the
secret recesses of his heart that their existence
could never be suspected. Music seemed the
angel guarding with flaming sword the gateway
of this peculiar man's soul. When music raised

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the barrier glimpses of unexpected beauties sur-
prised all those who knew the jealous, prying,
cynical nature of the man.

As David Chapman began playing his sister
with closed eyes rested her head on the back of
the rocking chair and bathed her lonely old heart
in the flood of melody that poured from the in-
strument in her brother's hands.

How that music spoke to the poor, craving,
hungry heart within her flat and weazen bosom.
Youth and hope seemed singing joyous songs of
life's springtime; love then burst forth blushing
while whispering the sweet serenade of that glor-
ious summer season of womankind. Then in
cadence soft and tender, gently as fall the autumn
leaves, the music sadly told of blighting frosts.
Youth and hope like summer roses withered and
vanished. Now the gloom, despair and disap-
pointment of life's winter wailing forth filled the
heart of the forlorn old maiden; tears rolled
down her wrinkled cheeks unheeded and almost
a sob escaped from her quivering lips.

Weep no more sad heart. The music in peal-
ing tones of triumph is shouting the Glad Tidings

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of that eternity of endless spring, where all is
Love and all is Joy; where the flowers of ever-
lasting summer never fade and die; where no
blighting frost can come to wither the blossoms
of Youth and Hope; where the cold blasts of
winter's gloom and disappointment never blow to
chill and sadden the soul.

Grandly resound those notes triumphant; open
seem the gates of that promised future, together
brother and sister their souls seem ascending;
above all is bright, refulgent with the great light
of gladness, now, coming sweetly, faintly, they
catch the sound of welcome, sung above by that
heavenly chorus.

The music died away in silence. Brother and
sister sat for a long time, each busy with their
own thoughts. Who but the All-wise can ever tell
what thoughts come on such occasions to those
who in silence hold self-communion in the sanc-
tuary of their own souls.

"David, it seems strange to me that one having
the tenderness of heart that you have, should
never have found some good woman to love,"
said the sister softly when the silence was finally
broken.

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"Indeed, sister, I sometimes think I might have
done so and been happier far than I am, had I
not early in life given, in the intense way that is
part of my nature, all the love of my heart and
consecrated all my devotion to the business in
which I then engaged and submerged my every
emotion in the glory and honor of the house of
'J. Dunlap.' "

"Ah, brother, I often think of that and wonder
what would happen if aught should go wrong
with the object of your life-long devotion/'

"It would kill me, Arabella," said Chapman
quietly.

The certainty of the result to the man, should
misfortune shatter the idol of his adoration, was
more convincingly conveyed to the listener by that
simple sentence and quiet tone than excited ex-
clamation could have carried; Arabella uttered a
sigh as she thought of the unshared place that 'J.
Dunlap' held in the strenuous soul of her brother.

"Brother, you should not allow your mind and
heart to become so wrapped up in the house of
Dunlap; remember the two old gentlemen, in the
course of nature, must soon pass away and that

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then there is no Dunlap to continue the business,
and the career of the firm must come to an end."

"No, Arabella, that may not happen," replied
Chapman. His voice, however, gave no evidence
of the pleasure that such a statement from him
seemed to warrant.

'There was an anti-nuptial contract entered
into by Burton, in which it is agreed that any
child born to James Dunlap's granddaughter shall
bear the name of Dunlap ; hence the career of our
great house will not necessarily terminate upon
the death of the twin brothers."

"I am so glad to know that, David. I have
been much concerned for your sake, brother, fear-
ing the dire consequences of the death of both of
the old gentlemen whom you have served so de-
votedly for forty odd years." The reassured lit-
tle creature paused and then a thought, all wo-
manly, occurred to her mind reddening her
peaked visage as she exclaimed,

"What beautiful children the Burton-Dunlaps
should be!"

A worried, anxious, doubtful look came over
Chapman's countenance. He gazed at the floor

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thoughtfully for several minutes and then ap-
parently speaking to himself said,

"That is the point; there is where I am at sea;
it is that question that gives me most anxiety."

"Why, what can you mean, most inscrutable
man, Mr. Burton is one of the handsomest men
that I ever saw and surely no prettier woman
ever lived than sweet Lucy Dunlap," cried the
loyal-hearted old maid.

"It is not a question of beauty, it is a question
of blood. If it be only a matter of appearances
Lucy Burton's children would probably be mar-
vels of infantine loveliness, but it is a scientific
problem," replied David seriously and earnestly.

"What in the name of all that is nonsensical
has science to do with Lucy's babies if any be
sent to her?" cried out Miss Arabella, forgetting
in her excitement that maidenly reserve that was
usually hers.

"I regret to say that science has a great deal to
do with the subject," answered the brother quiet-
ly. "It is a matter of grave doubt in the minds of
many scientific men whether, under any circum-
stances, an octoroon married to one of the white

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race ever can produce descendants; it is claimed
by many respectable authorities that negro blood
is not susceptible of reduction beyond the point
attained in the octoroon; that it must terminate
there or breed back through its original channel,"
continued Chapman.

"It is not true ! I don't believe a word of such
stuff," ejaculated Miss Arabella, dogmatically.

"Authorities admit, it is true, that there may be
exceptions to the invariability of this law, but
claim that such instances are faults in nature and
likely, as all faults in nature, to produce the most
astounding results. These authorities assert that
the progeny of an octoroon and one of the white
race being the outcome of a fault in nature, are
certain to be deficient in strength and vigor, are
apt to be deformed, and even may possibly breed
back to a remote coal-black ancestor," said Chap-
man, speaking slowly, punctuating each sentence
with a gasping sound, almost a groan.

"Stuff and nonsense !" exclaimed his sister ris-
ing in indignation from her chair and moving
toward the door, saying,

"I positively will hear no more of your absurd

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science. It's all foolishness. If that be the idiocy
that you learn from ethnology I think that you
had better occupy your time otherwise. Thanks
to your 'authorities' and their crazy notions, I
suppose that I shall dream all night of monkeys
and monsters, but even that is better than sitting
her and listening to my brother, whom I supposed
had some brains, talk like a fit subject for the
lunatic asylum." With the closing sentence, as a
parting shot at her brother the incensed spinster
sailed out of the door and with a whisk went up
stairs to her virgin chamber.

152

LUCY BURTON is a perfect dream to-
night, is she not ?" exclaimed enthusias-
tically Alice Stanhope, gazing admir-
ingly at the fair companion of her school days
who had just entered the room leaning on the
arm of her husband.

"Almost as pretty as you are," gallantly replied
'Bertie' Winthrop, to whom the remark of the
young woman was addressed.

"Well, don't expect me to vie with you in flat-
tery and reply by saying that Mr. Burton is al-
most as handsome as you are, for I am like the
father of our country, 'I can't tell a lie.' "

"Oh ! Now, that's good. I am justified in sup-
posing from that speech that Burton is not nearly
as handsome as I am, much obliged," replied
young Winthrop, laughing and making a pro-
found obeisance to the pretty creature beside him.

"You know what I mean you rascal, so don't

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try to look innocent. See with what adoring
glances Lucy looks up into her husband's face,"
said Miss Stanhope again calling her attendant's
attention to the group of guests near the entrance.

"Are you going to look at me like that a year
from now?" asked 'Bertie' in a quizzical fashion
as he slyly squeezed the dimpled elbow near his
side. On dit, Alice Stanhope and Albert Win-
throp will soon be married.

"Bertie, you horrid tease, I don't believe you
will ever deserve to be looked at except angrily,"
retorted the blushing girl and added as she
moved a little further from him,

"And you behave, sir, or I won't let you remain
by me another minute.

"It's a deuce of a crush you have gotten up,"
said 'Bertie' promptly disregarding the warning
that he had received by stepping up close to the
side of his fiancee.

"Where did you get all these people anyway,
Alice?"

"There's no 'all these people' about it, they are
the musical set among my friends in Boston and
New York ; as Signor Capello and Mme. Cantara

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are to sing of course everyone invited was eager
to be present."

"Never invite all your musical friends to dine
with us when we are — "

"Hush, you embarrassing wretch," cried Miss
Stanhope turning to welcome some recently ar-
rived guests.

After considerable diplomatic finessing and
resort to that most efficacious auxiliary, "Papa's
cheque book/' Miss Stanhope had secured the
services of the two great operatic luminaries to
sing at a grand musicale given by her.

All the "swell set" of Boston and New York
thronged the palacious home of the Stanhope's on
the occasion. The gray-haired, courtly governor
of Massachusetts was chatting as gaily with
petite Bessie Winthrop as he had done with her
grandmother a half century before. Foreign
diplomatists and Federal potentates discussed in
corners the comparative merits of Italian and
German composers of music ; literary lights from
all over New England joined the musical element
of New York and Boston in filling the Stanhope's
halls.

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"I insisted upon coming here tonight, Alice,
even though this over-worked husband of mine
did complain of a headache at dinner and I was
loathe to have him accompany me. You remem-
ber this is the anniversary of my wedding and I
wished to celebrate the day," said Lucy Burton
to the hostess when at last Burton had managed
to make a way for himself and wife through the
crowded rooms and reached the place where Miss
Stanhope was receiving her guests.

"I am awfully glad you came, dear. We are
sure to have a treat. Signer Capello has prom-
ised to sing "something from the new opera by
Herman that has just been produced in Berlin,"
and addressing Burton Miss Stanhope added,

"I trust that your headache has disappeared."

"Thank you, Miss Alice, it has entirely van-
ished under the influence of my charming wife's
ministrations, and the brilliant gathering about
me here," replied Burton.

"A slight pallor and circles around sad eyes,
you know, Mr. Burton, give an exceedingly in-
teresting and romantic appearance to dark men,"
rejoined Alice Stanhope smiling in spite of her

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effort not to do so when she noticed the anxious,
worshiping look with which Lucy regarded her
husband.

"Really, I believe Lucy is more in love than she
was a year ago," said the laughing hostess as she
turned to receive the German Ambassador, who
had traveled all the way from Washington in the
hope of hearing selections from Herman's new
opera.

In all that gathering of fair women and gallant
men, there was no couple so noticeable as the
splendid pair who this day one year before were
wedded.

As Burton and his wife passed through the
crowded halls all eyes were turned toward them,
paying mute tribute to the exceeding beauty of
both man and woman.

Burton, by one of those sudden rebounds of
spirit to which he was subject, inspired by the
gaiety about him was in a perfect glow of intel-
lectual fire. The brilliancy of his well trained
mind never shone more brightly, his wit scintil-
lated in apt epigrams, and incomparably clever
metaphors. He won the heart of the German

*5Z

ifrrmmmrtm

BLOOD WILL TELL

Ambassador by discussing with the taste and dis-
crimination of a savant that distinguished Teu-
ton's favorite composer, Herman, using the deep
gutturals of the German language with the ease
of a native of Prussia.

He exchanged bon-mots with wicked old Coun-
tess DeMille, who declared him a preux chevalier
and the only American whom she had ever met
who spoke her language, so she called French,
like a Parisian.

Lucy's beaming face and sparkling eyes told
of the rapture of pride and love that filled her
heart. She looked indeed the "Princess" as with
her well-turned head, with its gold-brown
crown, held high, she proudly looked upon her
lover and her lord and caught the approval and
applause that appeared in every eye about her.

Never had her husband seemed so much super-
ior to all other men, in Lucy's mind, as he did this
night. Wherever they paused in their passage
around the rooms, that spot immediately became
the center of a group of people eager to render
homage to the regal beauty of the young matron,
and to enjoy the wit and vivacity of the most
distingue man present.

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"Ah, Mr. Burton, I see that the splendor of the
Rose of Dunlap remains undiminished, notwith-
standing its transference from the garden of its
early growth," said the gallant Governor of the
old Bay State when greeting the young couple as
they stopped near him.

"The splendor of the roses of Massachusetts
is so transcendent that it would remain unim-
paired in any keeping how e'er unworthy," re-
plied Lucy's husband, bowing gracefully to the
Executive of the State.

"When I saw you enter the room, Mrs. Burton,
I hoped to see my old friend, your grandfather,
follow. How is James ? You see I take the liber-
ty of still speaking of him as I did many years
before your bright eyes brought light into the
Dunlap mansion."

"Grandfather is very well, thank you, Gover-
nor, but I failed to coax him away from his easy
chair and slippers this evening; beside I think he
was a little 'grump," as I call it, about having lost
a wager to a certain young woman of about my
height; he declared it was not the box of gloves
but loss of prestige that he disliked," answered

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Lucy merrily as she looked up at the amused
countenance of the Governor.

"I fear that I shall be obliged to exercise my
official prerogative and give that gay youth,
James Dunlap, a lecture if I hear anything more
of his reckless wagers," said the jocose old gen-
tleman, and then added:

"By the way, Mrs. Burton, the newspapers this
evening contain long accounts of the magnificent
conduct of a New England sea captain, to whom
the King of England has sent a letter of congrat-
ulation and praise. As the name given is Captain
John Dunlap, I have been wondering if it can be
that stubborn fellow whom your Uncle John and
I endeavored to convince that he ought to enter
Harvard."

"It is the same stubborn, dear old cousin Jack
who preferred the sea to being sent to Harvard,
and he is the best and bravest sailor on the waters
blue," answered Lucy quickly, her face flushed by
pleasure at hearing Jack's praises sung and pride
in knowing that he was her kinsman.

"It seems the lad was wiser than we were when
he refused to be convinced by John and me. A

1 60

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grand sailor might have been spoiled in the mak-
ing of a poor scholar. As long as the sailor sons
of Uncle Sam can number men of your cousin
Jack's kind among them we need never fear for
honor of the Gem of the Ocean," said the Gover-
nor quite seriously.

"I heartily endorse that sentiment, your Excel-
lency, but fear that on land or sea it would be
difficult to discover many men like Jack Dunlap,"
exclaimed Walter Burton warmly.

"When is he coming home, Lucy? You know
that I lost my heart the first time that I met your
bronzed sailor cousin, and am waiting anxiously
for my mariner's return," said Bessie Winthrop,
her violet-colored eyes twinkling with the glad-
ness of youth and happiness, En passant she was
a fearful little flirt.

"He does not say in his letters when we may
expect him, but when I write I'll tell him what
you say, and if he does not hurry home after that
nothing can induce him to do so," said Lucy as
she moved away with her husband to make room
for several admirers of Miss Winthrop who were
eagerly awaiting an opportunity to pay court to

that popular young lady.

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Just as Burton and his wife left the Governor
and his pretty companion, the tuning of instru-
ments announced the prelude to the programme
for the evening. Silence fell upon the assembly,
the gentlemen sought seats for the ladies and se-
cured the most available standing room for them-
selves.

Surely Signor Capello never sang so grandly
before. The superb harmony of Herman's great
composition rilled the souls of that cultivated
audience. The German Ambassador was in a
perfect ecstasy of delight, and even the least ap-
preciative were impressed, while the hypercritic,
casting aside all assumption of ennui, became en-
thusiastic.

Madame Cantara trilled and warbled in tones
so clear, flute-like and sweet that to close one's
eyes was to imagine the apartment some vast for-
est, filled with a myriad of feathered songsters,
vying with each other for woodland supremacy in
Apollo's blessed sphere.

Miss Stanhope's musicale was a pronounced
and splendid success. Nothing approaching it
had entertained Boston's fastidious "four hun-
dred" that season.

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Burton declared that it was the most delightful
function he had attended in years, when Lucy,
enwrapped in furs, was closely nestled at his
side in the carriage after the entertainment was
over. Burton was par excellence a judge of such
affairs. In fact, he had been accorded the position
of arbiter elegantiarum by a tacit understanding
among people of taste and culture in Boston's
elite society.

It was among such scenes, surroundings, en-
vironments and society as above described that
Burton's life had been passed since coming to
America. It was in this joyous atmosphere that
the first year of Lucy's married life glided by so
rapidly that the length of time seemed difficult
for her to realize. It was like the dream of a sum-
mer's day, so bright, cloudless and calm, so frag-
rant with the perfume of love's early blossoms,

that its passage was as that of a fleeting shadow.
*******

The sinking sun cast lengthening shadows
across Manila Bay, where swinging peacefully
at their anchors lay the great war ships of several
nations, and where the tall masts of a fleet of

163

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merchantmen caused bars of shade to stripe the
burnished waters of the Bay.

The starry flag of the great Republic had re-
ceived that salute, ever loyally given by the sons
of Columbia, as the sun sank beneath the horizon,
and the bugle blew its farewell to the departing
orb of day.

Four majestic, floating fortresses, on whose
decks stood uncovered crews as the proud flag of
the union descended, gave notice to the world of
the might of that young giant of the west that
held dominion in the Philippines.

Striding along in the rapidly darkening twi-
light, up the main street of Manila, walked one
who would have been known as a sailor by his
swinging, rolling gait, even without the nautical
cut and material of the clothing that he wore.

As he approached the newly erected, palacious
American hotel, around which ran a broad
veranda filled with tables and chairs, the chief re-
sort of the army and naval officers stationed at
Manila, a voice cried from the balcony above
him:

"Jack Dunlap, by all that is marvelous !"

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The sailor-man looked up and with an excla-
mation of pleased recognition, shouted:

"Tom Maxon, by all that is fortunate!"

"Come up here this instant, you sea-dog, wet
your whistle and swap yarns with me," called the
first speaker, rising from the table at which he
was seated and hurrying to the top of the half
dozen steps that rose from the sidewalk to the
entrance on the veranda.

The two men shook hands with the warmth
and cordiality of old cronies, when the sailor
reached the balcony. The meeting was evidently
as agreeable as it was unexpected.

The man who had been seated on the veranda,
when the sailor approached, was apparently of
the same age as the friend whose coming he had
hailed with delight. He, too, was evidently a
son of Neptune, for he wore the cap and undress
uniform of a lieutenant in the United States
Navy.

He was a big, fine man on whose good-looking,
tanned face a smile seemed more natural, and,
in fact, was more often seen than a frown.

"Jack, old man, you can't imagine how glad I

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f 1 1 III JMM^^I^^«1lll ■ III I Ml^ MM

am to run afoul of you. Had the choice been left
to me as to whom I would choose to walk up the
street just now, I'd have bawled out 'Good old
Jack Dunlap!' Well, how are you anyway?
Where've you been? and how are all in Boston?
But first let's have a drink; what shall it be,
bully?"

All of these questions and ejaculations were
made while the naval man still held Jack's hand
and was towing him along like a huge, puffing
tug toward the table from which the officer
sprang up to welcome his companion.

"By Jove, Tom, give me time to breathe; you've
hurled a regular broadside of questions into my
hull. Haul off and hold a minute; cease firing!
as you fighters say," expostulated our old ac-
quaintance, Captain Jack, as he was fairly shoved
into a chair at the table and opposite the laugh-
ing and red-faced lieutenant.

"Come here, waiter," called Maxon to a pass-
ing attendant, in high glee over Jack's cry for
quarter and his own good luck in meeting an old
chum when he was especially lonely and eager to
have a talk about home and friends.

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"Bring us a bottle of champagne and let it be
as cold as the Admiral's heart when a poor devil
of a lieutenant asks for a few day's shore leave."

"Now, my water-logged consort, we will first
and foremost drink in a brimming bumper of
'Fizz' the golden dome in Boston and the
bonny-bright eyes of the beauties that beam on
it," exclaimed jolly Tom Maxon, bubbling over
with happiness at having just the man he wished
to talk about Boston with.

"I say ! Tom, have you been studying up on al-
literation? You rang in all the B's of the hive in
that toast," said the merchant skipper, emptying
his glass in honor of Boston and her fair daugh-
ters.

"I don't require thought or study to become
eloquent when the 'Hub' and her beauties be the
theme, but you just up anchor and sail ahead giv-
ing an account of yourself, my hearty." Tom re-
plied with great gusto.

"To begin, then, as the typical story writer
does, one November day some thirteen months
ago, I sailed away (I've caught the complaint.
I came near making a rhyme) from Boston in the

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good ship 'Adams.' When a week out of harbor
as per instructions from the house of Dunlap, I
unsealed my papers to find that the ship had been
presented to me by my kinsmen, the Dunlap
brothers."

"Stop! Hold, my hearty, until we drink the
health of the jolly old twins. May their shadows
never grow less and may the good Lord send
along such kinsmen to poor Tom Maxon," inter-
rupted the irreverent Tom, filling the glasses and
proceeding to honor the toast by promptly drain-
ing his.

Jack and Tom had been pupils in the same
school in Boston when they were boys. Their
tastes and dispositions being much alike they be-
came chums and warm friends. Like young
ducks, both of the lads naturally took to the
water. When they had gotten through with the
grammar-school an appointment to the Annapolis
Naval Academy was offered to young Maxon by
the representative of his Congressional district,
which he joyfully accepted, and hence was now a
United States officer. Jack had entered the High
School and later the merchant marine service.
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BLOOD WILL TELL

Though seeing but little of each other after
their first separation, the same feeling of friend-
ship and comradeship was maintained between
Jack and Tom that had existed when as Boston
schoolboys they chummed together, and when-
ever, at rare intervals, they were fortunate enough
to meet they mutually threw of! all the reserve
that had come to them with age and became Bos-
ton boys once again.

"Now, heave ahead, my bully-boy !" cried Tom,
putting down his empty wine glass.

"In addition to the gift of the ship from the
firm, I found that my old cousin John had per-
sonally presented me with a large part of the
ship's cargo."

"Again hold! you lucky sea-dog! Here's to
dear old Cousin John, and God bless him !" called
Tom gleefully, his generous sailor-soul as happy
over the good fortune of his friend as if he him-
self had been the beneficiary of Mr. John Dun-
lap's munificence, again pledging Jack's kind
kinsman in a glass of iced wine.

"With all my heart I say, amen! Tom, God
never made better men and more liberal kinsmen

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than the 'J- Dunlaps,' " said Jack earnestly as he
began again his recital.

"When I arrived in Melbourne I disposed of
my cargo through our agents, loaded and sailed
for Liverpool, returned to Melbourne, took on a
cargo for Manila, and here I am drinking to long
life and good health to my two old kinsmen with
my school fellow Tom Maxon."

"And the future programme is what" said the
lieutenant.

"You have left out lots about yourself, that I
know of, concerning your past movements, so
try to be truthful about your future plans," con-
tinued Maxon, assuming an inquisitorial air.

"All right, my knowing father confessor,"
answered Dunlap, laughing.

"I have done well as far as making money is
concerned, which statement I wish added to my
former deposition. Oh! most wise judge; I pro-
pose sailing within the week for Hong-kong,
thence to San Francisco, from the latter port I
desire to clear for Boston, in God's country, stop-
ping, however, at Port au Prince, Haiti, both as
a matter of business and also with the design of

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personally thanking my kind godfather for his
gifts. Finally I hope to reach New England and
be with my dear mother while yet the Yankee
hills are blooming with summer flowers. One
word further and my story is finished. My ob-
ject in returning to Boston is to induce my
mother to return with me to Australia, where I
have purchased some property and where I de-
sire to make my home in future — finis — "

"Fairly well told, my bold buccaneer; however,
I disapprove of your making Australia your
home. Now, sir, what about saving a few small-
pox patients, emigrants, and such like, and re-
ceiving a letter from H. M. King of England, and
such trifles as we read of in the newspaper ?" de-
manded Tom, sententiously.

"Oh! That just happened, and there has been
too much said about it to find a place on my log-
book," replied Jack, shortly, coloring just a shade.

"I'm ! — well, no matter — I don't agree with
you, but I will shake your hand once again and
say that I find my old chum as modest as I al-
ways knew him to be brave," rejoined Tom
Maxon, rising, reaching over and grasping Jack's

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hand, and bowing gravely and respectfully as he
held it.

Jack's face was now all fire-red, as he said in
great embarrassment:

"Oh, Pshaw, slack up, Tom, haul off."

"You know what the Admiral said when he
read the account of what you had done?" cried
out Tom when he settled back in his chair.

"Of course, you don't, but it's a fine ram at the
merchant marine. The Admiral thinks that an
officer for sea service can't be made except at
Annapolis. When he read of what you had done,
he exclaimed: 'That fellow is almost good
enough to be an officer in the United States
Navy.' The Executive officer who heard the Ad-
miral repeated it, and ever since the fellows of
our mess, who hate some of the 'snobs' that An-
napolis sends to us, have been quietly poking fun
at the old man about it."

"Now, will Lieutenant Thomas Maxon, U. S.
N., in all the glory of his Annapolis seamanship,
give an account of himself?" broke in Jack, anx-
ious to escape further mention of his own affairs.

"The last time I saw you, Tom, you were

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dancing at the end of Bessie Winthrop's hawser.
Though I had never, at the time, met your charm-
er, I thought her a pretty craft."

"That's it! Now you touch the raw spot!"
cried Tom.

"I was stationed at Boston, and went about
some little. I met Bert Winthrop's sister and,
like an ass of a sailor that I am, fell in love with
her at the first turn of the wheel. Well, I rolled
around after the beauty like a porpoise in the
wake of a dolphin for the whole season. Finally
I mustered up courage to bring the chase to a
climax and got a most graceful conge for my
temerity, whereupon I retired in bad order, and
was rejoiced when assigned to the battleship
Delaware and sent to sea."

As the rollicking sailor ended his story, he
threw back his head and began softly singing in
a sentimental tone, "Oh ! Bessie, you have broken
my heart."

"Well, I'll go bail that the fracture won't kill
you, you incorrigible joker," said Jack, interrupt-
ing the flow of Maxon's sentimentality.

"See, now, our best friends never take us

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seriously, and sympathize with us when we suf-
fer," said the lieutenant dolefully.

"But to continue my sad story. I was ordered
to the U. S. S. Delaware, flag-ship of the Asiatic
fleet. Admiral Snave can out-swear Beelzebub,
has the sympathy of a pirate, and would work up
all the old iron of a fleet if there was as much in
it as in the mountains of Pennsylvania. So your
poor, delicate friend is tempted to ask to be re-
tired on account of physical disability." So say-
ing, Tom began roaring with laughter so health-
ful that it shook his stalwart frame.

"Hold though!" exclaimed the U. S. officer,
stopping in the midst of his outburst of merri-
ment, suddenly thinking of something omitted.

"You must understand that we all admire the
Admiral hugely. He is a magnificent officer, and
a fighter to the end of his plume; carries a chip
on his shoulder when he imagines anyone is
spoiling for a fight, or even looks crossways at
grand Old Glory."

Thus the two friends talked on, relating their
experiences, joking each other, and laughing in
that careless happy way, common alike to school-
boys and those who sail the sea.

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Captain Dunlap declared that this berth was
good enough for him, that he would drop his
anchor right there, and calling a waiter proceeded
to order everything on the menu for dinner,
telling the waiter to serve it where they were and
serve slowly so that they might enjoy a rambling
conversation while they dined.

Eating, drinking, talking and smoking, the
chums of boyhood days sat for hours, until the
streets became, as was the veranda, almost
deserted. Suddenly in an interval of silence as
they puffed their cigars, a piercing scream dis-
turbed the quiet of the street below. Again and
again was the cry repeated in an agonized female
voice.

Both men sprang to their feet and peered along
the dark avenue that ran toward the bay. About
a block away they discerned just within the outer
circle of light cast by an electric burner a strug-
gling mass of men. At the instant that Jack and
Tom discovered whence came the cries, a figure
broke from the crowd and ran screaming through
the illuminated spot on the avenue pursued by a
half dozen men wearing the Russian naval uni-

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form. The pursued figure was that of a half nude
female.

With an angry growl, Jack Dunlap placed one
hand on the low railing around the veranda and
cleared it at a bound, landing on the sidewalk be-
low, he broke into a run, and dashed toward the
group of men under the electric light, who were
struggling with the person whom they had pur-
sued and recaptured.

"The flag follows trade in this case," cried
Maxon, who would joke even on his deathbed, as
he, too, sprang to the pavement and raced after
Jack.

The brutal Finnish sailors of the Russian man-
of-war in Manila Bay swore to their mess-mates
that ten gigantic Yankees had fallen upon them
and taken away the Malay girl. They thus ac-
counted for their broken noses and discolored
optics.

Truth is, that it was a rush; the working of
four well-trained Yankee arms like the piston
rods of a high-speed engine. Outraged American
manhood and old Aryan courage against the
spirit of brutal lustfulness, ignorance and race in-
feriority.
176 "

BLOOD WILL TELL

"I say, Jack," cried out Maxon as he raised his
face from the basin in which he had been bathing
a bruise, "Why don't you go in for the P. R.
championship? You must be a sweet skipper for
a crew to go rusty with ! Why, Matey, yqu had
the whole gang going before I even reached you.
Look here, sonny, you are just hell and a hurri-
cane in a shindy of that kind."

"Well, I tell you, Tom," called Jack from the
next room, where, seated on the edge of the bed,
he was binding a handkerchief around the bleed-
ing knuckles of his left hand.

"That kind of thing always sets my blood
boiling, but that in a city under our flag an out-
rage of that kind should be attempted made me
wild. I guess from the looks of my hands that
maybe I did punch rather hard." Rising, Jack
walked to the open door between the two bed-
rooms and added:

"I don't mind just a plain fight, or even some-
times a murder, but when it comes to a brute as-
saulting a woman or child, I'm damned if I don't
become like one of Victor Hugo's characters, T
see red.' Temper seems to surge in my very
blood.'

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BLOOD WILL TELL

Jack's face, as he spoke, wore an angry scowl,
to which 'the earnest gesticulations with his ban-
daged fists gave double meaning.

"Of course it surges in your blood, old chap,
as it does on such occasions in mine and every
other decent descendant of Shem and Japheth on
earth," replied Tom Maxon.

178

THE Scottish Bard has written that to see
fair Melrose Abbey a-right, one must
visit it in the moon's pale light. To see
New England in its greatest glory one must visit
that section of hallowed memories in the summer
season.

Then it is that granite hills are wrapped in
emerald mantles. Then it is that hill-sides, slopes
and meadows are dimpled with countless daisies,
peeping enticingly from the face of smiling na-
ture. Then it is brooks, released from winter's
icy bondage, laugh, sing, dance and gambol like
merry maidens in some care-free frolic.

August, in the second year of Lucy Burton's
married life, found Dunlap's mansion still occu-
pied by the entire family. True, the Dunlap estate
lay in the most elevated portion of the suburbs
of Boston, and the house stood in the center of

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extensive grounds almost park-like in extent and
arrangement, still it was unusual for the house
to be occupied by the family at that season of the
year.

Generations of Dunlaps had sought relief from
city life and bustle during the month of August,
either among the Berkshire Hills, where an ornate
villa had been owned by them for decades, or at
Old Orchard, where their summer home was
rather a palace than a cottage, though so called by
the family. Burton, too, had a fine establishment
at Newport; yet this eventful August found the
family in their city residence.

Many other things unusual attracted attention
and caused comment among the associates of
members of the Dunlap household. Burton and
Lucy had been noticeably absent during the past
few months from those public functions to which,
by their presence, they had formerly given so
much eclat.

The very clerks in the office of J. Dunlap com-
mented upon the jubilant spirit that had taken
possession of, the always genial, manager. Chap-
man regarded his apparent joyousness with sus-

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picion, and of all the office forces alone seemed
displeased with its presence.

To intimate friends Burton spoke of selling the
"Eyrie," saying that it was of no further use or
pleasure to him; that for months he had only
been near it to select some choice flowers from
the conservatory for the vases that adorned his
wife's apartments.

Mr. James Dunlap, ever the kindest, most con-
siderate of beings, the gentlest of gentlemen, had
become so solicitious concerning his grand-daugh-
ter's comfort and care as to appear almost old
womanish. The anxiety he displayed about all
that tended to Lucy's welfare was absolutely
pathetic.

Walter Burton's demeanor toward his young
wife might, for all men, serve as a model of de-
voted, thoughtful deportment on the part of hus-
bands. To amuse and entertain her seemed his
all-absorbing idea and object. To exercise his
brilliant mental gifts in gay and enlivening con-
versation was his chief pleasure. To use all the
great musical talent that he possessed, to drive
any momentary shadow of sadness from her

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spirit. To stroll about the garden in the moon-
light, again whispering those words of love by
which he had first won her, was blissful occu-
pation to him.

Even good old Uncle John in far-off Haiti im-
bibed the spirit that seemed all pervading in the
realm about the young matron. Great hampers of
tropical fruits, plants and flowers came by trebly-
paid expressage from the West Indies, speed
alone being considered. They must be fresh when
offered to Lucy. Then, too, almost daily mes-
sages came over the cable from Haiti, "How are
all today," signed "John," and it was ordered at
the office that each day should go a message to
Port au Prince, unless especially forbidden, say-
ing, "All is well," this to be signed "James."

Mrs. Church, the most sedate, composed and
stately of old gentlewomen, too, is in a flutter of
suppressed excitement, frequently closeted in
deep and mysterious consultations with medical
men and motherly looking women; giving
strange orders about the preparation of certain
dishes for the table, driving the chef almost dis-
tracted by forbidding sauces that should always

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accompany some favorite entree of that tyrant.

A suite of rooms in the Dunlap mansion has
been newly decorated; nothing like these decora-
tions has ever been seen before in Boston. In
elegance, taste and beauty they are the ne plus
ultra of decorative art. One, while in the sacred
precincts of the recently remodeled apartments,
might readily imagine that spring had been cap-
tured and fettered here to make its sweet, bright
presence perpetual in this favored place. Colors
of the tinted sun-beam mingled with the peach
blossom's tender shade to make the spot a bower
of beauty wherein a smiling cupid might pause
and fold his wings to slumber, forgetful of his
couch of pink pearl shell.

The cultured, artistic, delicate taste of Bos-
ton's arbiter elegantiarum never produced any-
thing approaching the exquisite blending of
colors and unique, airy, harmonious fittings seen
in this, the ideal conception of the abode of
angels.

The delicacy and tenderness of Lucy's refined
and loving spirit contributed to create an inde-
finable feeling that this was the chosen spot where

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innocence, purity and love should seek repose.
Her womanly instinct had added soft shadings to
art's perfect handiwork.

The great sea shell, half opened, made of shin-
ing silver, lined with the pearly product of the
Eastern Isles, in which lie, soft and white as
snow, downy cushions, filled from the breasts of
Orkney's far-famed fowls, and these be-trimmed
with lace in tracery like frost on window pane, in
texture so gossamery and light that the brief
span of life seems all too short in which to weave
one inch, must surely be the nest wherein some
heaven-sent cherub shall nestle down in sleep.

Some sprite from fairy-land alone may make a
toilet with the miniature articles of Etruscan
gold, be jeweled with gems of azure-hued tur-
quois that fill the gilded dressing case.

The chiffoniers, tables, chairs and stands are
all inlaid with woods of the rarest kinds and
colors, with ivory and polished pearl shells inter-
woven in queerly conceived mosaic; mirrors of
finest plate here and there are arranged that they
may catch the beautous image of the cherubic oc-
cupant of this bijou bower, and countlessly re-

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BLOOD WILL TELL

produce its angelic features; urns and basins of
transparent china-ware, in the production of
which France and Germany have surpassed all
former efforts, beautified by the brushes of
world-renowned artists, furnish vessels in which
the rosy, laughing face and dimpled limbs may
lave.

The Western hills have cooled the eager glance
of the August sun. Lucy, softly humming as she
assorts and arranges a great basket of choice buds
and blossoms just arrived from the "Eyrie," is
seated alone in a fantastic garden pagoda, which,
trellised by climbing rose bushes, stands within
the grounds of the Dunlap estate.

As she rocks back and forth in the low chair
that is placed there for her comfort, little gleams
of sunshine sifting through the screen of roses
wander amidst her gold-brown tresses and spot
the filmy gown of white she wears with silver
splashes. As the lights and shadows of the gent-
ly swaying leaves and roses dance about her, she
seems surrounded by hosts of cherubim in frolic-
some attendance on her. Some thought of that
nature came to her, for she let her hands lie still

185

BLOOD WILL TELL

in her lap among the blossoms and watched the
ever fleeting, changeful rays of sunlight and
shade that like an April shower fell upon her.
Then she smiled as at some unseen spirit and
smiling grew pensive.

The limpid light in Lucy's eyes, as gazing into
the future she sees the coming glory of her wo-
manhood, is that same light that shone along the
road from Galilee to Bethlehem, when she, most
blessed of women for all time, rode humbly on an
ass to place an eternal monarch on a throne.

That light in Lucy's pensive hazel eyes, that
gentle, hopeful expectant look on her sweet face,
has, from the time that men were born on earth
subdued the fiery rage of angry braves in mortal
strife engaged, has turned brutality into cower-
ing shame, and caused the harshest, roughest and
most savage of the human kind to smooth the
brow, soften the voice and gently move aside, ren-
dering ready homage to a being raised higher far
than the throne of the mightiest king on earth.

As she, who chambered with the cattle on
Judah's hills, opened the passage from the groan-
ing earth to realms of eternal bliss by what she
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BLOOD WILL TELL

gave to men, so ever those crowned with that
pellucid halo of expected maternity stand holding
ajar the gates that bar the path from man to that
mysterious source of life and soul called God.

It is woman in her grandest glory, who draws
man and his Maker near together, with arms out-
stretched and hands extended she grasps man
and reaches up toward the Divine Author of our
beings.

In simplest attire and humblest station she
sanctifies the spot she stands upon. When most
beset by want or danger there lives no man
worthy of the name, who could refuse to heed her
lightest call.

Oh! that wistful, yearning, hopeful, tender,
loving look that transfigured Lucy's sweet face
until resemblance came to it, to that face that
has employed the souls, hearts and hands of
those most gifted by high heaven with pen and
brush.

Out of this trance-like blissfulness the pensive
dreamer was aroused by the coming of her ever
constant guardian, her grandfather, who told her
that Miss Arabella Chapman had called, bringing

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some offering that could be placed in no other
hand than that of the young matron.

Away hastened Lucy to greet the time-worn
maiden, but fresh-hearted friend, and to hurry
with her up to a sealed and sacred apartment,
over whose threshold no male foot must ever step,
wherein was hidden heaping trays and shelves of
doll-like garments of marvelous texture and
make, articles the names of which no man ever
yet has learned to call, all so cunningly devised
as to create the need of lace, embroidery or such
matter on every edge and corner.

Silky shawls and fleecy wraps, and funny little
caps of spider-spun lace, and socks of soft stuff
so small that Lucy's tiny thumb could scarce find
room therein, all and much more than man can
tell were here stored carefully away and only
shown to closest friends by the fair warder of that
holy keep.

And, oh ! the loving, jealous care of Lucy. No
hand but her own could fold these small gar-
ments just right. What awful calamity might
befall should one crease be awry or disturbed ; no
eye so well could note some need in that dainty,

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BLOOD WILL TELL

diminutive collection of fairy underwear as hers;
no breast could beat so tenderly as hers as close
she pressed, fondled and kissed the little gowns
for elfin wear.

Who would for all the gold coined on earth
rob her of one jot or tittle of her half-girlish, all-
womanly joy and jealous care? Not one who
ever whispered the word Mother !

That night the watchman and his faithful dog
who guarded the Dunlap house and grounds,
saw at the unseemly hour of two o'clock many
lights suddenly appear within the mansion. The
shadow of the family physician, white-haired and
wise, flits by the windows of the room which, for
some weeks, he has occupied. Mrs. Church in
wrapper, lamp in hand, hastens by the great hall
window and ascends the stairs, accompanied by
an elderly woman, who a month before came to
live in the mansion. Soon a window on the bal-
cony is raised and Mr. James Dunlap in dressing
gown and slippers steps out, accompanied by Mr.
Burton, who seems too nervous to notice Mr.
Dunlap's soothing hand placed on his shoulder.

Soon the bell, that warns him to open wide the

189

■ragaignaiimi'iimns— am

BLOOD WILL TELL

outer gate, is rung, and then the watchman and
his dog see no more of the commotion within the
house. As he holds back the gate, he asks of the
coachman, who, with the dog-cart and the horse,
Dark Dick, is racing by:

"What's the matter?" In reply he only catches
the words :

"Another nurse, d quick !"

A standing order of the house of J. Dunlap
was that should at any time neither J. Dunlap nor
the manager appear by the noon hour, the super-
intendent, Mr. Chapman, should take cab and
hasten to the residence of Mr. James Dunlap for
instructions concerning transactions that pressed
for immediate attention.

Five minutes after noon, on the day when
at two o'clock in the morning the private watch-
man had seen lights appear within the Dunlap
mansion, David Chapman was seated in a cab
speeding toward his employer's residence.

As the cab turned the corner on the avenue that
ran before the gate of the Dunlap place, the
horse's hoof-beats were silenced. Chapman looked
out; the straw-carpeted pavement told the whole

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BLOOD WILL TELL

story. He ordered the driver to stop his horse,
and springing from the vehicle the superintend-
ent, walking, proceeded the balance of the dis-
tance.

The vigil and anxiety of the past night had told
fearfully on well-preserved Mrs. Church, thought
Chapman as he noted her drawn, white and
frightened face, and listened to the awed tone of
her voice, as she told him that a boy was born to
Lucy ; that she was very ill ; that Mr. Burton was
troubled and wretched over the danger of his
wife, and would see no one; that Mr. Dunlap, ex-
hausted by agony of mind and weakened by
watching, had fainted, was now lying down and
must not be disturbed under any circumstances.

Chapman in mute amazement stared at the
trembling lips that gave an account of the striking
down, within so short a time, of all three mem-
bers of the family. Speechless he stood and
stared, but could find no words to express either
his surprise or sorrow. As he stood thus, a faint
and husky, yet familiar, voice called from the far
end of the wide hall that ran through the center
of the house.

191

*"~f— "■" ' ■"f"'iwwiffl"iTrffM«,,timn»iiiuifiirni-rTiinrTY-Tm

BLOOD WILL TELL

"David, wait ; I want you."

With uncertain step, and bowed head, a figure
came forward. As Chapman turned he saw that it
was Mr. Dunlap. One moment the old employee
gazed at the approaching man. Then springing
toward him, he cried as he caught sight of the
ashen hue on his old master's blanched and deep-
lined face, and saw the blank look in his kind
eyes :

"You are ill, sir; sit down!"

"Yes, David; I am not well; I am somewhat
weak, but I wish to give you certain commands
that must not, as you value my friendship, be
disobeyed." The old man paused and painfully
sought to gain command of his voice, and failing,
gasped forth:

"Send a message to my brother saying, 'It is a
boy and all is well/ and add — David Chapman,
do you understand me? — and add these very
words, 'Do not come home ; it is unnecessary.'
Sign the message 'James' — and, listen, Chapman,
listen; no word that I am not well or my grand-
daughter in danger must reach my brother
John."

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BLOOD WILL TELL

"Your instructions shall be obeyed, sir," and
Chapman's voice was almost as indistinct as that
of his loved master.

"What of the business, sir, while Mr. Burton is
absent?" the ever- faithful superintendent asked.

"Use your own discretion in everything," and
with a dry, convulsive sob that shook his bended
frame, he added in a whisper :

"It makes no difference now."

David Chapman heard the sob, and caught
those heart-broken words. In an instant that
strangely constituted man was on. his knees at the
feet of him whom of all on earth he worshiped
most.

"Can I help you, sir, in your trouble? Say any-
thing that man can do, and I shall do it, sir," cried
Chapman piteously.

"No, David, no ; but, David, I thank you. Go,
my faithful old friend, and do what I have re-
quested."

Chapman arose and pressed the wan hand that
James Dunlap extended, then hurried from the
house.

Those who saw the superintendent that day

193

r — 'i-'v .■■munnirwt— ■— — ■■hib^ n in n im— nigfriw

BLOOD WILL TELL

wondered why they were unable to tell whether
it was grief or rage that marked the man's face
so deeply.

The message as dictated was sent that day to
Haiti,

194

XII.

BY SPECIAL concession from the Haitian
government, the blacks still maintain-
ing a prejudice against white people
owning real estate in Haiti, John Dunlap had
purchased several acres of land lying in the out-
skirts of Port au Prince, and had built a com-
modious house thereon, constructed in accordance
with the requirements of the warm climate of the
island.

To-night with impatient manner he is walking
up and down the veranda which surrounds the
house, accompanied by Captain Jack Dunlap, to
whom he says :

"I do not like the monotonous sentence that,
without change, has come to me daily for two
weeks past. It is not like my brother James, and
something, that I cannot explain, tells me that all
is not well at home in Boston."

"Don't you think that this presentiment is only

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the result of anxiety; that you are permitting
imaginary evils to disturb you, sir?" put in Jack
respectfully.

"No, Jack, I do not. From boyhood there has
existed an indescribable bond of sympathy be-
tween my brother and myself that has always
conveyed to each of us, no matter how far apart,
a feeling of anxiety if trouble or danger threat-
ened either one. For days this feeling has been
increasing upon me, until it now has become un-
bearable. I regret that I did not take passage on
the steamer that sailed to-day for New York.
Now I must wait a week." As Mr. Dunlap came
to the end of his sentence, a chanting, croning
kind of sound was heard coming from some spot
just beyond the wall around his place.

"Confound that old hag!" cried the impatient
old gentleman, as he heard the first notes of the
weird incantation, "for the last month, night and
day, she has been haunting my premises, wail-
ing out some everlasting song about Tu Konk,
white cows, black kids, and such stuff, all in that
infernal jargon of the mountain blacks. She
looks more like the devil than anything else. I

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tried to bribe her to go away, but the old witch
only laughed in my face. I then ordered her
driven away, but the servants are all afraid of
her and can't be induced to molest her."

"She probably is only some half-witted old wo-
man, whom the superstitious negroes suppose
possessed of supernatural power. I don't think
the matter worthy of your notice," said Jack.

"I suppose it is foolish, but her hanging about
my place just now, makes me nervous; but never
mind the hag at present. I was going to say to
you, when that howling stopped me, that so strong
has become my feeling of apprehension within
the last few hours that could I do so, I should
leave Port au Prince to-night and hurry straight
to Boston and my brother. This cursed Haitian
loan, for which the English and American bank-
ers hold our house morally, if not legally, re-
sponsible, has held me in Haiti this late in the hot
season, and, tonight, I would gladly assume the
entire obligation legally, to be placed instantly
on Boston Common."

The positiveness and seriousness with which his
kinsman spoke caused even Jack's steady nerves

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to become somewhat shaken. Just then footsteps
were heard coming rapidly up the walk that led
to the roadway. As the two Dunlaps reached the
top step of the veranda a telegraph messenger
sprang up the stairs and handed an envelope to
Mr. John Dunlap. With trembling fingers he
opened the paper and going to a lamp that hung
in the hallway read it. Then with a cry of pain
he would have fallen to the floor had not Jack's
strong arms been around him.

"I knew it, I knew it," he moaned.

Jack took the message from the cold, numb
hand of the grief-stricken man and read :

"Come immediately; your brother dying, Lucy
in great danger. David Chapman."

Jack almost carried the groaning old man to a
couch that stood in the hall, placing him upon
it he hurried to the side-board in the dinner-
room for a glass of wine or water; when he re-
turned he found Mr. Dunlap sitting up, with his
face hidden in his hands, rocking back and for-
ward murmuring.

"A million dollars for a steamer ; yea ! all I am

worth for a ship to carry me to Boston! Oh!

Brother, Brother!"
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BLOOD WILL TELL

Jack, though stricken to the heart by what
the message said, still held firm grip upon his
self-command for the sake of the kind old man
before him. When he heard the muttered words
of his suffering friend, for one instant he stood
as if suddenly struck by some helpful idea, then
cried,

"You have the fastest sailing ship on the At-
lantic, Cousin John. The 'Adams' has only half
a cargo aboard. She can beat any steamer that
sails from Haiti to America, if there be breeze
but sufficient to fill her canvas. My crew is
aboard. Within one hour my water casks can be
filled, the anchor up, the bow-sprit pointing to
Boston, and, God send the wind, we'll see the
Boston lights as soon as any steamer could show
them to us, or I'll tear the masts out of the
'Adams' trying."

Like the revivifying effect of an electric

shock, the words of the seaman sent new life
into John Dunlap. He sprang to his feet,
grabbed for a hat and coat lying on the hall-
table and, ere Jack realized what was happenings
was racing down the pathway, leading to the

road, calling back:

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"Come on, my lad, come on !"

Soon Jack was by the old man's side, passing
his arm through that of his godfather, and thus
helping him forward, their race toward the
water was continued.

Not one word was said to the house-servants.
The Dunlaps saw no one before they dashed
from the premises; no, not even the evil, flash-
ing eyes of the old black hag, who, listening to
what they said, peered at them through the low
window case. ,

"Mr. Brice, .call all hands aft," commanded
Captain Dunlap as he stepped upon the deck of
his ship, half an hour after leaving the house of
Mr. Dunlap in Port au Prince.

"Men," said the skipper, when the astonished
crew had gathered at the mast and were waiting.

"Most of you have sailed with me for months,
and know I 'crack on' every sail my ship can
carry at all times. Now, listen well to what I
say. This old gentleman at my side, my kins-
man and friend, and I have those in Boston
whom we love, and we have learned tonight that
one of them is dying and one is in danger. We

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must reach Boston at the earliest moment possi-
ble. Within the hour I'll heave my anchor up
and sail, such carrying of sail, in weather fair
or foul, no sailor yet has seen as I shall do. My
masts may go. I'll take the chance of tearing
them out of the ship if I can but gain one hour.
No man must sail with me in this wild race un-
willingly or unaware of what I intend to do.
Therefore, from mate to cabin-boy, let him who
is unwilling to share the perils of this trip step
forward, take his wages and go over the side
into the small boat that lies beside the ship."

The skipper stopped speaking and waited; for
some seconds there was a scuffling of bare feet
and shoving among the knot of seamen, but no
man said aught nor did any one step forward.
At last the impatient master cried out,

"Well, what's it to be ! Can no man among you
find his tongue?"

Then came more shuffling and shoving and
half audible exclamations of "Say it yourself!"
"Why don't you answer the skipper?" finally
old Brice moved around from behind the captain
and stood between him and the men. Then ad-

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dressing the master but looking at the crew, he
said,

"I think, sir, the men wish to say, that they
are Yankee sailors, and see you and Mr. Dunlap
half scuttled by your sorrow and that they will
stick by you, and be d n to the sail you car-
ry! Is that it, men?"

A hoarse hurrah answered the first officer's
question.

"The mate says right enough; we'll stick to
the ship and skipper," came in chorus from the
brazen lungs of the crew.

Such scampering about the deck was never
seen before on board the "Adams" as that of the
next thirty minutes. When the crew manned
the capstan and began hoisting the anchor a
strange black bundle, with gleaming eyes, came
tumbling over the bow. The startled crew
sprang away from what they took to be a huge
snake, but seeing, when it gathered itself to-
gether and stood upright, that it was an old witch
of a black woman, they bawled out for the mate.

The old termagant fought like a wild-cat,
scratching and tearing at the eyes of the men

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as they bundled her over the ship's side and into
the canoe in which she had come from the shore.
All the time the hag was raving, spitting and
swearing by all kinds of heathenish divinities
that she would go to Boston to see "my grand-
child," and muttering all sorts of imprecations
and incantations, in the jargon of the West In-
dies, upon the heads of all who attempted to pre-
vent her.

As the ship gathered headway and swung
around, Mr. John Dunilap, who stood in (the
stern, heard a weird chant, which he recognized
as coming from below him. He looked over the
railing and saw old Sybella standing upright in
the canoe in which she had been thrust by the
crew, waving her skinny bare arms, and chant-
ing,

"Tu Konk, the great one"
"Send her the Black Goat"
"White cow, Black kid"
"White teat, Black mouth"
"Tu Konk, Oh, Tu Konk"
"Black Blood, Oh, Tu Konk"
"Callback, Oh! Tu Konk."

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When Sybella saw Mr. Dunlap she ceased her
song, and began hurling savage and barbarous
curses upon him and his, which continued until
the tortured old gentleman could neither hear
nor see the crone longer.

There was just enough cargo aboard the
"Adams" to steady her and give her the proper
trim. As soon as Jack secured enough offing,
in sailors' parlance he "cut her loose." Every-
thing in shape of sail that could draw was set,
the skipper took the deck nor did he leave it
again until he sprang into a yawl in Boston har-
bor.

On the second day out from Port au Prince,
the wind increased to the fury of a gale, but still
no stitch of cloth was taken from the straining
masts and yards of the "Adams." Two stalwart
sailors struggled with the wheel, the muscles of
their bared and sinewy arms standing out taut,
as toughened steel. The ship pitched and leaped
like a thing of life. The masts sprang before
the gale as if in their anguish they would jump
clear out of the ship.

With steady, hard set eyes, the skipper

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watched each movement of his ship. He knew
her every motion as huntsman knows the action
of his well-trained hound. His jaws were
locked, the square, firm, Anglo-Saxon chin
might have been modeled out of granite, so rock-
like did it look. Away goes a sail, blown into
fragments that wildly flap against the yard.
Will the skipper ease her now?

Old ' Brice looked toward the master, saw
something in his eyes, and saw him shake his
head —

"Lay along here to clear up the muss, and set
another sail !" bawled Brice, and again he looked
toward the skipper; this time Jack nodded.

Brave old John Dunlap scarcely ever left the
deck. He had a sailor's heart and he had min-
gled with those of the sea from babyhood. He
saw the danger and going to his namesake, said,

"Carry all she'll bear Jack. If you lose the

ship, I'll give you ten; get me to Boston quickly,
lad, or wreck the ship."

"I will," was all the answer that came from
Jack's tightly pressed lips, nor did he change his
gaze from straight ahead while answering — yet

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BLOOD WILL TELL

the old man knew that Jack would make his
promise good.

He, who in the hollow of His hand doth hold
the sea, knew of their need and favoring the ob-
ject of such speed, did send unto that ship safety
through the storm and favoring winds there-
after.

No yacht, though for speed alone designed,
ever made such time, or ever will, or ever can,
as made the good ship "Adams" from Port au
Prince to Boston harbor.

During the two weeks that succeeded the birth
of Lucy's baby, her grandfather never left the
house, but like some wandering spirit of unrest,
moved silently but constantly, in slippered feet,
from room to room, up and down the broad
flight of stairs, and back and forth through the
halls. .

Maids and serving men stepped aside when
they saw the bent and faltering figure approach-
ing; James Dunlap had aged more within two
weeks than during any ten years of his life be-
fore. His kind and beaming eyes of but yester-

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day had lost all save the look of troubled age and
weariness. The ruddy glow bequeathed by tem-
perate youth had vanished from his countenance
in that short time, as mist beneath the rays of the
rising sun. The strong elastic step of seasoned
strength had given place to the shambling gait
of aged pantaloon.

Burton in moody silence kept his room, or
venturing out was seen a changed and altered
man, with blood-shot eyes, as if from endless
tears, and haggard, desperate face deeply traced
by lines of trouble's trenches dug by grief.

Mrs. Church, the physician, nurse and even
the buxom black woman, who came to give suck
to the babe, all, seemed awe struck, distraught,
as if affrighted by some ghostly, awful thing
that they had seen.

And then, too, all seemed to hold some
strange, mysterious secret in common, that in
some ways was connected with the recently ar-
rived heir to the Dunlap proud name and many
millions. The frightened conspirators held so
sacred the apartments blessed by the presence of
the Dunlap heir, that none but themselves might

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enter it, or even, in loyal love for all who bear
their old master's name, see the babe. One poor
maid in loving, eager curiosity had ventured
to peep into the sacred shrine and when discov-
ered, though she had seen naught of the child,
was quickly driven from the house and lost her
cherished employment.

Lucy Burton from the first hour after the birth
of the child was very ill. For two whole days
she hovered, hesitatingly, between life and
death, most of the time entirely unconscious or
when not so in a kind of stupor. But finally,
after two days of anxious watching1, the physician
and Mrs. Church noticed a change. Lucy opened
her eyes and feebly felt beside her as if seeking
something, and finding not what she sought,
weakly motioned Mrs. Church to bend her head
down that she might whisper something in her
ear. As her old friend bent over her, she whis-
pered softly

"My baby, bring it."

Mrs. Church's face became so piteous as she
turned her appealing eyes toward the Doctor
that, that good man arose and coming to the bed-

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side took Lucy's soft white hand in his. He had
known her as an infant, and guessing from Mrs.
Church's face what Lucy wished, he said,

"Not yet, dear child, you are too ill and weak,
and the excitement might be dangerous in your
condition."

But Lucy would listen no longer; she shook
her head and cried out quite audibly :

"Bring me my baby ! I want to see it. Every
mother wishes to see her baby." Tears came
rolling from her sweet eyes.

"But child, the baby boy is not well and fo
bring him to you might cause serious conditions
to arise."

Well did that Doctor know the mother Heart.
How ready that heart ever is to suffer and to
bleed that the off-spring may be shielded from
some danger or a single pang.

"I can wait; don't bring my darling if it will
do him harm. A boy! A boy! My boy! I'll
wait, but where is Walter?"

The Doctor told the nurse fo summon Mr.
Burton, but cautioned Lucy not to excite or agi-
tate herself as she had been quite ill.

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Let him who has seen the look on the con-
demned felon's face, when the poor wretch gazes
on the knife within the guillotine, recall that
look. Let him who has seen the last wild, des-
perate glance of a drowning man, recall that
look, and mingle with these the look of Love at
side of Hope's death-bed, and thus find the look
on Burton's face when he entered his wife's bed-
room.

With arms outstretched she called to the fal-
tering man,

"Walter, it is a boy ! My baby ! Your baby !
My husband!"

The man fell, he did not drop, upon his knees
by the bedside and burying his face in the cover-
ing wept bitterly. He took her hands, kissed
them, and wet them with his tears.

"Oh ! Don't weep so, darling. I will soon be
well, and Oh ! my husband we have a precious
baby boy." Then she said, as if in the joy of
knowing that her baby was a boy, she had for-
gotten all else,

"Tell grandfather to come here. Tell him the
boy shall bear his name."

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BLOOD WILL TELL

The Doctor weftt "himself to bring her grand-
father to her. She never noticed that strange
fact.

James Dunlap, never had you in your seventy-
three years of life more need of strength of mind
than now!

Her grandfather came to her leaning heavily
upon the Doctor's arm. He bent and kissed her
brow, and in so doing dropped a tear upon her
cheek. Quickly she looked up and seeing pain
and grief in the white face above her, she started
and in the alarmed voice of a little child, she
cried,

"Am I going to die ? Are you all so pale and
weep because I am dying? Tell me Doctor!
Why Mamma Church is crying too."

She so had called Mrs. Church when a wee
maid and sometimes did so still.

The Doctor seeing that she was flushed and
greatly excited hastened to the bed-side and said
calmly but most earnestly,

"No, my dear. You will not die, they are not
weeping for that reason, but you have been very
ill and we all love you so much that we weep

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BLOOD WILL TELL

from sympathy for you, my dear. Now please
lie down. You must my child, and all must
leave the room but nurse and me," and speaking
thus, he gently pressed the gold-brown head
back on the pillows and urged all to leave the
room immediately.

That night the nurse and Doctor heard the pa-
tient often murmur both while awake and while
she slept,

"My baby, my baby, it's a boy, my baby."

For two or three days after this night Lucy
was quite ill again. Her mind seemed wander-
ing all along the path of her former life, but al-
ways the all over-shadowing subject in all the
wanderings of her thoughts was, "My baby,"
"My baby." Sometimes she called for Jack say-
ing, "Come Jack, and see my baby," and then
for her uncle, laughing in her sleep and saying
"See, Uncle John, I've brought into the world a
boy, my baby."

When the fever again abated and once more
she became conscious her first words were "My
baby, bring it now."

For several days the mental resources of the

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BLOOD WILL TELL

nurse, Doctor and Mrs. Church were taxed to
their utmost in finding excuses for the absence
of the baby. He was not well. He was asleep,
she was not well enough and many other things
they told her as reasons for not bringing her
baby to her,

But, Oh ! the piteous pleading in her voice and
eyes, as with quivering lips and fluttering hands
extended toward them she would beg

"Please bring my baby to me. Everv mother
wishes to see her baby, to press it to her breast,
to feel its breath upon her cheek, to hold it to
her heart ; Oh ! Please bring my darling to me."

Poor Mrs. Church, no martyr ever suffered
more than did that tender-hearted woman, who
loved Lucy with a mother's heart.

The Doctor, when he had reassured and quite-
ed, for a little while, his patient, would leave
the room and standing in the hall would wring
his hands and groan, as if in mortal agony.

One night when Lucy seemed more restful
than usual, and was slumbering, worn out by
emotion and watching, the Doctor, lying on a
couch in the hall, fell fast asleep. The nurse,

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mamaaammnaa

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seeing all about her resting, her charge peace-
fully and regularly, first became drowsy, nodded
and then slept.

The gold-brown head was raised cautiously
from its pillows, the hazel eyes wide opened
looked about, and seeing that the nurse was
sleeping and that no one was looking, then two
little white feet slipped stealthily from beneath
the coverlet, the slim figure rose, left the bed
and glided along the well remembered passage
that led from her chamber to that bower of
beauty made for her baby. As she, weak and
trembling, stole along, she smiled and whispered
to herself:

"I will see my baby ! I will hold him in my
arms, I am his own mother."

In the room, that with loving, hopeful hands
she had helped to decorate, the faintest flame
gave dim, uncertain light, yet quick she reached
the silver shell-like crib and feeling found no
baby there. Hearing a steady, loud breathing
of some one asleep and seeing the indistinct out-
line of a bed in one corner of the room, she
softly crept to its side and feeling gently with

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BLOOD WILL TELL

her soft hands found a tiny figure reposing be-
side the snoring sleeper. To gather the baby to
the warm breast wherein her longing, loving
heart was beating wildly was the work of only
an instant.

With her babe clutched close to her, she
opened her gown and laid its little head against
her soft and snowy bosom, then she stole back,
carrying her treasure to her own chamber.

Like child that she was, women have much of
childish feeling ever in them. In girlish happi-
ness she closed her eyes and felt her way to the
gas-light, and turned it up full blast, laughing
to herself and saying as she uncovered the baby's
face,

"I won't peep. I'll see my baby's beauty all at
once."

She opened her eyes and looked!

Now, Oh! Mother of the Lord look down!
Oh! Christ, who hanging on His cross for the
thief could pity feel, have pity now!

The thing she held upon her milk white breast
was Black — Black with hideous, misshapen
head receding to a point; with staring, roll-

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BLOOD WILL TELL

ing eyes of white set in its inky skin; and feat-
ures of an apish cast, increased the horror of the
thing.

My God! That shriek! It pealed through
chamber, dome and hall. Again, again it rang
like scream of tortured soul in hell. It roused
the horses in the barn, they neighed in terror,
stamped upon the floor and struggled to be free.
The doves in fright forsook their cot. The dogs
began to bark. Yet high above all other sound,
that wild, loud scream rang out.

When the nurse sprang up she dared not move
so wild were Lucy's eyes. The Doctor, Burton,
her grandfather found her standing, hair un-
bound, glaring wildly at what crying, lay on
the floor.

"Away, you thieves!" she screamed, and
motioned to the door.

"You have robbed me of my babe, and left
that in its stead." She pointed at the object on
the floor.

Her grandfather pallid, tottering, moved to-
ward her.

"Back, old man, back! You stole my child

216

Mr— an ■■! 111 ii ■wnrrTiiattMnM— n

BLOOD WILL TELL

away," she yelled, her blazing eyes filled with
insane rage and hate.

"My God ! She is mad," the Doctor cried, and
rushing forward caught her as she fell.

"Thank God ! She has fainted ; help me place
her on the bed."

Burton, petrified by the awfulness of the scene
had until that moment stood like some ghastly,
reeling statue, now in an automatic manner he
came forward and helped the Doctor place her
on the bed.

"Look to Mr. Dunlap," cried the Doctor but
ere anyone could reach him the old man fell for-
ward, crashing on the floor; a stroke of paralysis
had deadened and benumbed his whole right side.

Chapman was told next day that James Dun-
lap was dying. Then, for the first and only time
in the life of David Chapman, he disobeyed an
order given by a Dunlap and sent the message
to Haiti.

217

XIII.

THE pilot is mad," cried one old tar ; an-
said,

"The master is drunk, or there's mu-
tiny aboard that ship."

Thus spoke among themselves a knot of sea-
faring men who stood on the Boston docks
watching a ship under almost full sail, that came
tearing before a strong northeast gale into Bos-
ton's crowded harbor.

i The man who held the wheel and guided the
ship through the lanes of sail-less vessels an-
chored in the harbor, as a skillful driver does
his team in crowded streets, was neither mad nor
drunk nor was there mutiny among the crew.
The man was Jack Dunlap; the ship was the
"Adams."

Jack knew the harbor, as does the dog its ken-
nel. He held a pilot's certificate and waiving
assistance steered his ship himself in this mad

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race with time, that no moment should be lost
by lowering sails until the anchor dropped in
Massachusetts sand.

The crew was ready at the sheets and running
gear. Each man at his station and all attention.
Old Brice in the waist stood watching the skip-
per ready to pass the word, to "let all go;" Mor-
gan, the second mate, at the boat davits held the
tackle to lower away the yawl the instant the
ship "came round."

The skipper at the wheel, stood steady, firm
and sure, as though chiseled from hardest rock.
He never shifted his blood-shot eyes from
straight ahead. His strong, determined face,
colorless beneath the tan, never relaxed a line
of the intensity that stamped it with sharp an-
gles. The skipper had not closed his eyes in
sleep since leaving Port au Prince nor had he
left the deck for a single hour.

"Let go all!" the helmsman called and Brice
repeated the order. The ship flew around, like
a startled stag and then came,

"Let go the anchor ! Lower away on that boat
tackle ! Come, Cousin John, we are opposite

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BLOOD WILL TELL

Dunlap's docks. This is Boston harbor, thank
God !" So called Jack Dunlap, springing toward
the descending small boat that had hung at the
davits, and dragging the no-way backward old
gentleman, John Dunlap, along with him.

The only moment lost in Port au Prince be-
fore the "Adams" sailed was to arouse the oper-
ator and send a message to Chapman saying that
John Dunlap had left in the "Adams" and was
on his way to Boston and his brother's bedside.

When the red ball barred with black stream-
ing from the masthead announced that a Dunlap
ship was entering the port, the information was
sent at once to the city, and an anxious, thin and
sorrowing man gave an order to the driver of
the fastest team in the Dunlap stables, to hasten
to Dunlap's wharf and sprang into the carriage.

The impatient, scrawny figure of David Chap-
man caught the eyes of the two passengers in
the yawl, as with lusty strokes the sailors at the
oars urged the small boat toward the steps of the
dock. Chapman in his excitement fairly raced
up and down the dock waving his hands toward
the approaching boat.

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"He still lives !" he shouted when they could
hear him, instinctively knowing that, that ques-
tion was first in the minds of those nearing the
wharf.

"And Lucy?" said Jack huskily, as he stepped
on the dock and_ grasped Chapman's extended
hand. Old John Dunlap had said never a word
nor looked right nor left, but springing up the
steps with extraordinary agility in one of his
age, had run directly to the waiting carriage.

"Alive but better dead," was all that the su-
perintenden could find breath to say as he ran
beside Jack toward the carriage and leaped in.

"Stop for nothing; put the horses to a gal-
lop," commanded Mr. Dunlap, leaning out of the
carriage window and addressing the coachman
as he wheeled his horses around and turned up-
on the street.

It was at an early hour on Sunday morning
when the Dunlaps landed and the streets were
freed from the week day traffic and the number
of vehicles that usually crowded them.

As the swaying carriage dashed along, Chap-
man was unable to make the recently arrived

221

BLOOD WILL TELL

men understand more than that Lucy had sud-
denly become deranged as a result of her illness,
and that this appalling circumstance, in connec-
tion with his idolized granddaughter's severe
sickness had produced a paralytic stroke, that
had rendered powerless the entire right side of
James Dunlap's body; that his vitality was so
low and his whole constitution seemed so shaken
and undermined by the events of the last few
weeks, that the physicians despaired of his life.

As the foaming horses were halted before the
entrance of the Dunlap mansion, Mr. John Dun-
lap jumped from the still swaying vehicle and
ran up the steps, heedless of Mrs. Church and
the servants in the hall, he rushed straight to
the well remembered room where, as boys, he and
his brother had slept, and which was still the
bed-chamber occupied by Mr. James Dunlap.

John Dunlap opened the door and for a mo-
ment faltered on the threshold; then that voice
he loved so well called out

"Is that my brother John ?" The stricken man
had recognized his brother's footsteps.

An instant more and John Dunlap had thrown

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BLOOD WILL TELL

himself across the bed and his arms were around
his brother ; for several minutes those two hearts,
which in unison had beaten since first the life-
blood pulsated through them, were pressed to-
gether. James Dunlap's left hand weakly pat-
ting his brother.

David Chapman had followed, close upon the
heels of John Dunlap and was crouching at the
bottom of the bed, with his face hidden by the
bed-clothing that covered his old master's feet,
and was silently sobbing. When Jack Dunlap
entered the hall good Mrs. Church, who had
been a second mother to him while he lived at
the Dunlap house in his school boy days, ran
to him and throwing her arms about his neck
fell upon |u=abroad breast, weeping and crying,

"My boy is home ! Thank God for sending
you, Jack. We have suffered so, and needed
you so much, my boy 1"

When the sailor man had succeeded in pacify-
ing the distressed old housekeeper and disen-
gaged himself from her embrace, he hastened
after Chapman. As he entered the room and
stepped near the bed he heard a feeble voice

22$

BLOOD WILL TELL

which he scarcely recognized1 as that of Mr.
James Dunlap, say,

"It is all my fault John. You, brother, tried
to prevent it. I alone am to blame. I have
driven my darling mad and I believe that it will
kill her. I did it Oh God ! I did it. Blame no
one John; be kind, punish no one, my brother.
I alone am at fault."

These words came with the force of a terrible
blow to Jack Dunlap, and halted him in mute
and motionless wonder where he was.

"James, don't talk that way. I can't stand it,
brother. Whatever you have done, I know not,
and care not, it is noble, just and right and I
stand with you, brother, in whatsoever it may
be," said John Dunlap in a bro^n^u*. energetic
voice. *^^^

"Has no one told you then, John?" came
faintly from the partially paralyzed lips of him
who lay upon the bed.

"Told me what? Brother James; but no mat-
ter what they have to tell, you are not blamable
as you say; I stand by that."
Though the voice was husky, there was a chal-
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BLOOD WILL TELL

lenge in the tone that said, let no man dare at-
tack my brother. The innate chivalry of the old
New Englander was superior even to his sor-
row.

"Who is in the room beside you, John?" asked
James Dunlap, anxious that something he had
to say should not be heard by other than the
trustworthy, and unable to move his head to as-
certain.

"No one, James, but our kinsman, Jack Dun-
lap, and faithful David Chapman," replied his
brother.

The palsied man struggled with some pow-
erful emotion, and by the greatest effort was
only able to utter in a whisper the words,

"Lucy's bafr1 H black and impish. The negro
blood in Burt^i caused the breeding back to a
remote ancestor, as, John, you warned me might
be the case. It has driven my granddaughter
insane and will cause her death. God have
mercy on me !" The effort and emotion was too
much for the weak old gentleman; his head fell >
to one side; he had fainted.
John Dunlap started when he heard these dire-

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BLOOD WILL TELL

ful words. A look of horror on his face, but
brotherly love stronger than all else caused him
to put aside every thought and endeavor to re-
suscitate the unconscious man.

Poor Jack. He had borne manfully much
heartache, but the dreadful thing that he had
just heard was too much for even his iron will
and nerves. He collapsed as if a dagger had
pierced his heart, and would have fallen to the
floor had he not gripped the bedstead when his
legs gave way.

Chapman raised his head and gazed, with eyes
red from weeping, at him who told the calami-
tous story of the events that had stricken him
down. There was a dangerous glitter in the
red eyes as Chapman sprung to John Dunlap's
assistance in reviving the senseless man.

When Jack recovered self-command sufficient
to realize what was happening about him, he
found that the physician, who had been sum-
moned, had administered restoratives and stim-
ulants, and that the patient had returned to con-
sciousness; that the kind Doctor was trying to
comfort the heartbroken brother of the sufferer

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BLOOD WILL TELL

even while obliged to admit that the end of life
for James Dunlap was not far distant.

"Come and get in my bed, Jack," came in a
low and indistinct voice from the couch of the
helpless patient. Captain Dunlap started in
surprise, but old John Dunlap made a motion
with his hand and said in a voice choking with
emotion,

"He always so called me when we were boys,"
and lying down by his brother he put his arms
lovingly and protectingly around him.

Thus the two old men lay side by side as they
had done years before in their cradle. The si-
lence remained for a long time unbroken, save
for the muffled sobs that came from those who
watched and grieved in the chamber.

"How cold it is, Jack, come closer; Fm cold.
I broke through the ice today and got wet but
don't tell mother, she will worry. Jack, don't
tell on me." The words were whispered to his
brother by the dying man.

"No, Jim, I'll not tell, old fellow," bravely an-
swered John Dunlap, but a smothered sob shook
his shoulders. He knew his brother's mind was

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BLOOD WILL TELL

straying back into the days of their boyhood.

For what inscrutable cause does the mind of
the most aged recur to scenes and associations
of childhood when Death, the dread conqueror,
draws near? Why does the most patriarchal
prattle as though still at the mother knee in that
last and saddest hour? Is it because mother,
child, in purity approach nearest to that tran-
scendent pellucidity that surrounds the throne of
Him before whom all must appear? Does the
nearness of the coming hour cast its shadow on
the soul, causing it to return to the period of
greatest innocence, and that love that is purest
on earth?

"Jack, hold me, I am slipping, I am going,
going, Jack."

Alas! James Dunlap had gone on that long,
last journey! The noble, kindly soul had gone
to its God. John Dunlap held in his arms the
pulseless form of him who for seventy-three
years had been his second self, and whom he had
loved with a devotedness seldom seen in this sel-
fish world of ours.

To see a strong man weep is painful; to hear

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BLOOD WILL TELL

him sob is dreadful; but to listen and look upon
the sorrow of a strong and aged man is heart-
breaking and will cause sympathetic tears to
flow from eyes of all who are not flinty-hearted.

Chapman, when he knew the end had come,
clasped the cold feet of his old employer and
wept bitterly; Jack could bear no more. With
bursting heart he fled from the room, but kept
the chamber sacred from intrusion, and in the
sole possession of the two old men who sorrowed
there.

The funeral of James Dunlap was attended by
the foremost citizens of that section of the
United States, where for so many years he had
justly held a position of honor and prominence.

The universal gloom and hush that was ob-
servable throughout the city of Boston on the
day that the sorrowful cortege followed all that
remained earthly of this esteemed citizen, gave
greater evidence of universal grief than words
or weeping could have done.

While James Dunlap had never held any civic
or political position, his broad charity, unosten-
tatious generosity, kindliness of spirit, constant

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BLOOD WILL TELL

thoughtfulness of his fellow men, and the unas-
suming gentleness of his lovable disposition and
character, gave him an undisputed high place in
the hearts of his fellow citizens of both lofty
and lowly condition.

The chief executive of his native state, jurists,
scholars, and capitalists gathered with rough,
weather beaten sea-faring men, clerks and labor-
ers to listen to the final prayer offered up, to
Him above, at the old family vault of the Dun-
laps beneath the sighing willow trees.

Haggard and worn by the emotions that had
wrenched his very soul for the past two or three
weeks, David Chapman dragged himself to the
tea-table where his sister waited on the evening
of the day of the funeral ceremonies.

With the fidelity of a faithful, loving dog he
had held a position during all of many nights at
the feet of him who in life had been his object
of paramount devotion; during those days with
unswerving faithfulness to the house of "J- Dun-
lap," he was found leaden hued and worn, but
still attentive, at his desk in the office. The

230

rjaif «m ii nil i mi -rrr— — — ~

BLOOD WILL TELL

great business must not suffer, thought the man,
even if I drop dead from exhaustion. Neither
John Dunlap nor Walter Burton was in a condi-
tion, nor could they force themselves, to attend
to the business of the house no matter how urg-
ent the need might be.

When the business of the day ended, Chap-
man hastened to the Dunlap mansion, and like a
ghostly shadow glided to his position at the feet
of his old employer, speaking to no one and no
one saying him nay — it seemed the sad watcher's
right.

As David Chapman dropped into a chair at
the tea-table, the anxious and sympathetic sister
said,

"Brother, you really must take some rest. In-
deed you must, David, now that all is over."

"Yes, Arabella, I feel utterly exhausted and
shall rest."

The man's condition was pitiable; his words
came from his throat with the dry, rasping
sound of a file working on hardest steel.

"What a God-send Jack Dunlap is at this
time, sister. He has taken charge of everything,

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BLOOD WILL TELL

and in that steady, confident, masterful way of
his has brought order out of the chaos that ex-
isted at the mansion. It may be the training and
habits acquired at sea, but no matter what it is
the transformation in the affairs at the house is
wonderful. His decisive manner of directing
everything and everybody and the correctness
and promptness with which all people and things
are disposed of by him is phenomenal. I thank
Providence for the relief that Jack's coming has
brought."

The total exhaustion of Chapman's intense
energy was best exhibited in the satisfaction he
felt at having some one to assist him even in the
affairs of the Dunlaps.

"Jack is one of the best and strongest minded
men in the world. While I know that his heart
is bleeding for all, especially for Lucy, he has
maintained a self-control that is superb," said
the spinster.

"When he learned that Lucy's hallucination
led her to believe that the old family physician
had conspired to deprive her of her baby, he
promptly procured the attendance of another

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BLOOD WILL TELL

— I. I 1.1MI HJM] I —III, Bill ITM— »IH— MMM^^gJM— — — — M—

doctor, saying positively, 'Lucy's mind must not
be disturbed by sight of anything or person tend-
ing to aggravate her mental disorder/ He for-
bade Mrs. Church going into Lucy's apartments,
dismissed the nurse and procured a new one, had
that accursed infant put with his nurse into
other apartments and did it all so firmly and qui-
etly that no one dreamed of disputing any order
given by him," said David wearily, but evidently
much relieved with the changes made by Jack.

"What of Lucy? How is she?" anxiously
questioned Arabella.

"Her mental faculties are totally disarranged.
She has not spoken coherently since she fell
senseless on that dreadful night and was carried
to her bed. Besides, her physical condition is
precarious in the extreme," replied the brother.

"Has Jack seen her yet?" inquired the old
maid sadly.

"Yes, and it is very strange how rational she
became as soon as she saw him enter the room.
You know, Arabella, the steady, earnest, matter
of fact manner he has. Well, he walked into her
room with just that manner, they say he

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BLOOD WILL TELL

stopped to steady himself before going in, and
said 'How are you, Cousin Lucy? I've come
home to see you/ and without a quiver took her
extended hands and pressed them to his breast.

Lucy knew him at once when he stepped inside
the door. She looked intently at him, then gave
a glad, joyful cry and held out her hands, calling,
"Jack, Oh Jack! Come to me, my champion!
Now all will be well.' Then she put her weak,
white arms about his neck and began to weep as
she sobbed out, 'Jack, I have needed you. You
said you would come from the end of the earth
to me. I knew you would come ; Jack, they have
stolen my angel boy, my baby. Jack, find it,
bring it to me. I know you can. You said until
death you would love me, Jack. Oh! find my
baby, my darling.' "

"Poor Lucy! Poor Jack!" broke in the old
lady, as tears of pity ran down her withered
cheek.

"But think of the strength of the man, Ara-
bella. You and I know what he was suffering.
Yet he answered with never a waver in his
voice, 'All right, little cousin, I am here and no

234

r'.l.lnmiHIIIIBMimillM | Hill ||[TlMl»1«Hl'MIMIHUHUlW«.MHlHMIIMII»»ltHH—

BLOOD WILL TELL

harm shall come to you. I'll help you, but you
must be a good little girl and stay quiet and get
well. Shall I have my mother come to sit with
you?' She cried out at once, 'Please do, Jack,
Cousin Martha did not steal my baby,' and then
he insisted that she put her head back on the
pillow and close her eyes. When she did so Jack
had the courage to sit on the bedside and sing
softly some old song about the sea that they had
sung together when children. The poor girl fell
fast asleep as he sung, but still clung to Jack's
brown hand."

Chapman gave a groan when he finished as if
the harrowing scene was before him.

"Blessings on the stout hearted boy," whim-
pered the old lady.

"Lucy never calls, as formerly, for her grand-
father or husband. In fact, when Burton en-
tered her room after that awful night she flew
into a perfect frenzy, accusing him of stealing
her child and putting some imp that, at some
time, she had seen in Florida, in his place, not-
withstanding his protestations and entreaties.
Her mad fury increased to such a degree that

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BLOOD WILL TELL

the doctor insisted that Burton should leave the
room, and has forbidden him to again visit his
wife until there is a change in her mental coadi-
tion. Of course, Lucy knows nothing of the
death of her grandfather." The man's voice
became choked as he uttered the last sentence.

"Have Jack and Mr. Burton been together since
Jack's return?" inquired Arabella, after a long
silence.

"I think not, except once when they were clos-
eted in the library for two hours the day after
Jack arrived. When they came out I was in the
hall and heard Jack say, as he left the library
with Burton, 'I shall hold you to your promise.
You must wait until my cousin be in a condition
of mind to express her wishes in that matter.'
Jack's voice was firm and emphatic and his face
was very stern. Burton replied, 'I gave you my
word of honor.' He seemed in great distress and
mental anguish. My opinion is that he had pro-
posed disappearing forever, and I think so for
the reason that he had asked me to dispose of a
great amount of his personal securities, and to
bring him currency for the proceeds in bills of

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BLOOD WILL TELL

large denomination, and Jack must have object-
ed,'' rejoined Chapman.

"I am sorry for Mr. Burton and am glad Jack
would not let him go away," said the kind spin-
ster.

"Well I am not," cried Chapman savagely,
notwithstanding his fatigue.

1 'They would better let him go. This misfortune
is the physical one that long ago I told you was
possible. The next may be spiritual and result
in some emotional or fanatic outburst of barbar-
ous religious fervor that may again disgrace us
all. Then may develop the bestial propensities
of the sensual nature of savages and may result
in crime and ruin the house of Dunlap forever."

"David, go to bed and rest. You are worn
out and conjure up imaginary horrors purely by
reason of nervousness and weariness," said the
sister soothingly.

"You maintained months ago that the danger
of breeding back was imaginary. What do you
think now? The other things that I suggest as
possible, are inherent in Burton's blood and may
tell their story yet."

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BLOOD WILL TELL

Chapman, though weak, became vehement im-
mediately upon the mention of this unfortunate
subject. It required all the persuasion and di-
plomacy of his good sister to get him to desist
and finally to retire to his bed room for the rest
that was so needed by the worn out man.

238

XIV.

YOU have been a tower of strength to
me, Jack, in the grief and trouble of the
last three months. I don't know what
would have become of us all without your aid
and comfort."

So spoke Mr. John Dunlap. He appeared
many years older than he did when three months
before he arrived in Boston on board the
"Adams." He was bent, and care worn. Deep
sorrow had taken the fire and mirth from his
honest, kindly eyes.

"I am rejoiced and repaid if I have been able
to be of service to those whom I love, and who
have always been so kind to me," replied Jack
Dunlap simply.

The two men were seated in the library of the
Dunlap mansion in the closing hour of that late
November day, watching the heavy snow flakes
falling without.

"Jack, I have meditated for several days upon

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BLOOD WILL TELL

what I am about to say and can find no way but
to beg you to make more sacrifices for us." said
the old gentleman, after a lapse of several min-
utes,

"The condition in which our family is demands
the presence of some younger, stronger head and
hand than mine is now. I know the 'Adams' is
refitted, after her two years of service, and ready
for sea. I know you. my lad, and your reluct-
ance to remain idle when you think that you
should be at work."

"To be frank, sir. you have hit upon a subject
about which I desired to talk with you but have
hesitated for several days." said the young man.
with something of relief in his tone.

"Well then. Jack, to begin with. I wish to
charter your ship for a voyage and to show that
it is no subterfuge to hold you here, I say at
once I wish you to sail in her." Mr. Dunlap
paused for a moment to note the effect of his
proposal and then continued.

"Let me go over the situation, Jack, and tell
mc if you do not agree in my conclusions. Lucy.
while apparently restored in a degree to her for-

240

BLOOD WILL TELL

mer health, is still weak and looks fragile. The
physicians advise me to take her to a warmer
climate before our New England Winter sets in.
Her dementia still continues, and while she is
perfectly gentle and harmless, she will neither
tolerate the presence of her husband, nor poor
Mrs. Church, and is even not pleased or quiet in
my company. I think my likeness to my beloved
brother affects her. She clings to your good
mother and to you, my lad, with the confident af-
fection of a child. When she is not softly sing-
ing, as she rocks and smiles in a heartrending,
far-off-way, some baby lullaby, she is flitting
about the house like some sweet and sorrowful
shadow. Can we, Jack, expose our girl in this
condition to the unsympathetic gaze of stran-
gers ?"

"No, no, a thousand times no !" was the quick
and emphatic answer of the younger man.

"Now listen, Jack. Since the death of that
poor, little misshapen black creature, which in-
nocently brought so much trouble into our lives,
and, Jack, your thoughtfulness in having it
buried quietly in Bedford instead of here is

241

BLOOD WILL TELL

something I shall never forget. But to return
to Lucy: Since that object is out of the way, and
after the consultation of those great specialists
in mental disorder cases, I am led to hope that
Lucy may be restored to us in all the glory of
her former mental condition."

"God speed the day," exclaimed Jack fervently
and reverently.

"The specialists affirm that as this aberration
of mind was produced by a shock and as there
is no inherited insanity involved in the case, that
the restoration may occur at any moment in the
most unexpected manner. A surprise, shock or
some accident may instantly produce the joyful
change.

"It is for that very reason that I have insisted
that Burton should remain near at hand, and
ready to respond to a call from the restored wife
for her husband's presence. We must bear in
mind the fact that Lucy, before this hallucina-
tion, was devotedly attached to her husband andl
grandfather. With the return of her reason
we may justly expect the return of her former
affections and feelings," interrupted Jack by way

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BLOOD WILL TELL

of explanation of something he had done. '

"I know that, Jack, and approve of your
course, but I am only a weak human creature,
and notwithstanding the injunction of my dying
brother to blame no one, I cannot eradicate from
my mind a feeling of animosity toward Burton.
I know that he is not culpable, but still I should
be glad to have him pass out of our lives, if it
were not for the probable effect upon Lucy if
she ever be restored to reason. However, I was
not displeased by his decision to return to his
own house, the 'Eyrie/ until his presence was re-
quired here."

"Burton's position, sir, has been a very trying
one. I may say a very dreadful one, and I think
that he has acted in a very manly, courageous
manner, sir, and I think it our duty, as Christian
men, to put aside even our natural repugnance
to the author of our misfortune and be lenient
toward one who has suffered as well as our-
selves."

The young sailor stopped, hesitated, and then
jerked out the words

"And to be frank and outspoken with you, sir,

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BLOOD WILL TELL

by heavens ! I am saving him for Lucy's sake ; if
she wish him, when she know all, she shall
have him safe and sound if it cost my life."
There was a fierce determination in Jack's voice
that boded no good to Burton should he attempt
to disappear, nor to any one who attempted to
injure the man whom Lucy's loyal sailor knight
was safe-keeping for his hopeless love's sake.

"Jack, I love you, lad." was all that the old
Dunlap said, but he knew and felt the grandeur
of the character of the man, who pressed the
dagger down into his own heart, to save a single
pang to the woman whom he loved so unself-
ishly.

"But to resume the recital of my plans and
our situation," said the old gentleman settling
back in his chair. He had leaned forward to pat
Jack on the shoulder.

"We agree that Lucy cannot be subjected to
the scrutiny and criticism of strangers. I pro-
pose, that as the physicians advise a warmer cli-
mate, to charter the 'Adams,' have the cabin re-
modeled to accommodate Lucy, your mother, the
nurse and Lucy's maid, and to take them all with

244

BLOOD WILL TELL

me to Haiti, just as soon as the changes in the
accommodations on your ship can be made."

"Burton goes with us, of course," said Jack,
assertively.

"Well, I had not determined that point. What
do you think?"

"Decidedly, yes! The business may suffer,
but let it. What is business in comparison to the
restoration of Lucy?" cried Jack in an aggres-
sive tone of voice.

"It shall be as you think best, my lad. The
business will not suffer in any event, for since
Burton's return to his position as manager, he
has in some extraordinary manner become
worthless in the management of the affairs of
the house. He does not inspire the respect that
he did formerly nor does he seem to possess the
same self-confidence and decision of character
that marked his manner before the events of the
past few weeks. I don't know what I should
have done had it not been for Chapman. He has
taken full charge of everything and will continue
in control while I am absent, if you decide to
take Burton along."

245

BLOOD WILL TELL

a if i n ti'inTfnurrnn ' jag—— i ii hi ii ■miii i. i m i ii.'JummiJBC

"You surprise me, sir. I had noticed no alter-
ation in Burton's manner," exclaimed Jack, sin-
cerely astonished at what he heard.

"That is quite likely as he seems to regard you
with a kind of awed respect, but nevertheless
what I state is an absolute fact. When first he
made his appearance at the office he endeavored
by a brave, bold front to resume his position, but
somehow his attempt was a lamentable failure.
He seemed to feel that everyone was aware that
there was something sham about his assumed dig-
nity and authority and like an urchin caught mas-
querading in his father's coat and hat, he has dis-
carded the borrowed garments and relapsed into
the character that nature gave him. Burton's
succeeding efforts to impress the office force and
people with whom we do business with a sense
of his importance have been absurdly laughable,"
said Mr. Dunlap.

"The secret of the child, and all that concerns
our family is confined to our own people, and a
few old and faithful friends, is it not?" asked
Jack in an anxious, troubled voice.

"Certainly, but that apparently does not lessen

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BLOOD WILL TELL

pi— — —

Burton's sense of being garbed in stolen apparel.
I can notice the dignity and culture of the white
race growing less day by day in Burton's speech
and manner, just as frost-pictures on a window
pane lessen each hour in the rays of the sun un-
til naught remains but the naked and bared
glass."

'"What will be the end of all this, if you be
correct?" cried Jack.

"One by one the purloined habiliments of the
superior race will disappear until finally he will
stand forth stripped of the acquired veneering
created by the culture of the white race, a negro.
This transformation, which I think time will ef-
fect, recalls to me an example of the inordinate
vanity and love of parading in borrowed plumage
common to the negro race. During one of the
numerous insurrections in Haiti I used to see one
of the major generals of the insurgents — they
had a dozen for every hundred privates — a big
black fellow, strut about, puffed up with as-
sumed importance and dignity. In less than one
week after the insurrection was suppressed he
was at my door selling fish. While there he be-

247

BLOOD WILL TELL

gan to 'pat Juba,' as he called it, and dance, gig-
gling with childish glee and winding up the per-
formance by begging me for a quarter. There
you see the negro of it. Prick the balloon and
when the borrowed elevating gas escapes the skin
collapses immediately," said John Dunlap, with
the positiveness of a prophet.

"God grant that the end be not as you surmise
or let God in His mercy continue our Lucy in
her present condition. It were more merciful.
History gives the records of men of the negro
race who did not end their lives in the manner
you suggest, however," replied Jack, extracting
a crumb of comfort from the last statement.

"True! my lad, true! There have been white
elephants and white crows; in every forest occa-
sionally a rare bird is found. So with the negro
race, rare exceptions to the general rule do ap-
pear but so infrequently as to only accentuate

the accuracy of the general rule."

n* * * * * *

Walter Burton was seated at a table in his
bed-room at the "Eyrie." Before him were scat-
tered letters, papers and writing material. It

248

BLOOD WILL TELL

was late at night and he had evidently been en-
gaged in assorting and destroying the contents
of an iron box placed beside him on the floor.
His elbows were on the table and his chin rested
in both of his hands while he gazed meditatively
at the flame in the lamp before him.

"I am, oh ! so weary of this farce. How I long
to be able to run away and be free/' he sighed as
he said this to himself. After a little while he
continued.

"The farce has been played to the final act. I
know it. What is the use to continue upon the
stage longer? Should Lucy's mind return to its
normal condition she must be informed of what
has transpired and then my happiness will ter-
minate anyhow. Of what earthly use is it for
me to remain here. She might call for me at
first, but only to repulse me at last. I am toler-
ated by old John Dunlap, hated or despised by
the others except the noblest of them all, Jack
Dunlap. He relies upon my word of honor. I
must not lose his respect. I would to God I
had given another the promise not to disappear."

The man paused for some time in his solilo-

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BLOOD WILL TELL

quy and then broke out again by exclaiming,

"The moment that the nurse showed the child
to me a curtain of darkness seemed to roll back.
I saw clearly what produced the strange spells
that for so long have mystified me. I am a ne-
gro. My blood and natural inclinations are those
common to the descendants of Ham. It matters
not that my skin is white, I am still a negro. The
acquirement of the education, culture and refine-
ment of the white race has made no change in
my blood and inherent instincts. I am ever a
negro. Like a jaded harlot I may paint my face
with the hues of health but I am like her, a dis-
eased imitator of the healthy. I may have every
outward and visible sign but the inward and
spiritual grace of the white race is not and can
never be mine. I am a wretched sham, fraud
and libel upon the white race with my fair skin
and affected manner."

The man's arms fell upon the table and he
hid his head in them and groaned. Thus he re-
mained for a short time, then raised his head and
cried out,

"I even doubt that my Christianity is genuine

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BLOOD WILL TELL

and not a hollow mockery ! The doctrine of Ma-
homet is received more readily, and practiced
more consistently by my native race in its ancient
home of Africa than the pure and elevating
teachings of Christ. The laws of Mahomet
seem more consistent with the sensual nature of
my race than the chaste commands of Christ.
History relates that Islamism is able to turn an
African negro from idolatry where the Christian
religion utterly fails. Are my protestations of
faith in Christianity like my refinement, culture
and manners, merely outward manifestations in
imitation of the white race and as deceitful as is
the color of my skin?"

Burton sat silent for several moments and then
said in a tone of sad reminiscence.

"I recall how everything in the Christian re-
ligion or service that appealed to the emotional
element within me aroused me, but is my nature
as a negro, susceptible of receiving, retaining
and appreciating permanently the truths of that
purest and noblest of all faiths ?" Again the
man paused as if silently struggling to solve the
problem suggested.

251

BLOOD WILL TELL

"It has of late, I know, become the fashion to
refuse to accept the Scriptures literally, but there
is one prophecy concerning the descendants of
Ham which thousands of years have demonstrat-
ed as true."

The sculpture of that oldest of civilizations,
the mother of all culture, the Egyptian, proves
beyond a doubt that the children of Ham came
in contact with the source of Greek and Roman
culture yet they advanced not one step. The
profiles of some even of the early Pharoahs as
seen on their tombs furnish unmistakable proof
of that contact in the Negroid type of the fea-
tures of Egypt's rulers."

"The Romans carried civilization to every
people whom they conquered and to those who
escaped the Roman domination they bequeathed
an impetus that urged them forward, with the
single exception of the accursed Hamites."

"The Arabs occupied Northern Africa and kept
burning the torch of civilization in the chaos of
the Dark Ages in Europe. The Arabs frater-
nized more freely with the sons of Ham than all
other branches of the human race, but failed to

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BLOOD WILL TELL

push, pull or drive them along the highway of
culture."

"The negro race seems bound by that old
Scriptural prophecy concerning the descendants
of Ham. It does not advance beyond being the
hewers of wood and drawers of water for the
balance of mankind, notwithstanding five thous-
and years of opportunity and inducement."

"The negro race in Africa, its ancestral land,
can point to no ruined temples, no not even
mounds like can the American Indians. It bor-
rowed not even the art of laying stones from
Egypt. It has no written language though the
Phoenicians gave that blessing to the world. It
has no religion worthy of the name, neither laws
nor well defined language. Notwithstanding its
association with Egyptian, Roman and Arabian
culture and civilization, fountains for all of the
thirsty white race, the negro race has benefited
not at all. It is where it was five thousand
years ago. God's will be done!"

Burton paused while a sneer came to his lips
when he began again speaking.

"Haiti, after decades of freedom, starting with

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BLOOD WILL TELL

the benefits conferred by the religion and civili-
zation of one of the leading nations of earth, is
the home today of ignorance,, slothfulhess and
superstition. Every improvement made by the
former white rulers neglected and passing away.
In the hands of the white race it had now been
a Paradise. Liberia is as dead, stagnant and
torpid as if progress had vanished with the fos-
tering care of the white nations that founded
that republic."

The young man ceased in recapitulating the
failures of his race, but added with a sigh,

"In America! Well one may grow oranges
in New England by covering the trees with glass
and heating the conservatory, but break the glass
or let the fire expire and the orange trees die.
Break the civilization of the white race in Amer-
ica like the glass, let the fire of its culture be-
come extinguished and alas for the exotic race
and its artificial progress."

"But enough of my race," exclaimed Burton
impatiently as he arose from the table and began
walking about the room.

"Formerly I tried to curb an inclination that

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was incomprehensible. Now that I know the
cause I rather enjoy the relapses into my natural
self. I welcome the casting aside of the mask
and affectation of the unreal. It is a relief. The
restraint imposed by the presence of those who
know me for what I am, is irksome. I long all
day for the freedom of my isolation here in the
'Eyrie' where no prying eye is finely discriminat-
ing the real from the sham. I loath the office
and the association there. Each day I seem to
drop a link of the chain that binds me to an arti-
ficial existence."

Suddenly an idea seemed to present some new
phase to the soliloquizing man. He put his hand
to his head as if in pain, and cried out,

"But the end! What shall it be?"

255

XV.

IT was good of you Jack, to Have Mr.
Dunlap invite me to dine with him this
evening. I am deucedly weary of the
'off colored/ " exclaimed Lieutenant Tom Maxon
as he and his companion, Captain Jack Dunlap
walked in the twilight through the outskirts of
Port au Prince.

"To tell you the truth, Tom, I was not think-
ing of your pleasure in the visit half so much as
I was about my old kinsman's. You see we have
been here a month, and as my Cousin Lucy is
an invalid and sees no company, Mr. Dunlap has
divided his great rambling house into two parts.
He and Burton occupy one part and the women
folk the other; I join them as often as possible
but as Burton is exceedingly popular with the
dusky Haitians and often absent, my old cousin
is apt to be lonely. I thought your habitual jolli-
ness would do him good, and at the same time
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BLOOD WILL TELL

secure you a fine dinner, excellent wine and the
best cigars in Haiti; hence the invitation."

"How is Mrs. Burton? I remember her from
the days when you, the little Princess and I used
to make 'Rome howl' in the Dunlap attic."

"Lucy is much improved by the sea voyage
and change of climate, but must have absolute
quiet. For that reason my mother keeps up an
establishment in one part of the house to insure
against noise, or intrusion," said Jack.

"I hope that you didn't promise much jollity
on my part this evening, old chum, for the
thought of our little Princess being an invalid
and under the same roof knocks all the laugh
and joke out of even a mirthful idiot like Tom
Maxon," said the lieutenant.

"It's sailing rather close to tears, I confess,
Tom, but I do wish you to cheer the old gentle-
man up some if you can," replied Jack as they
strolled along the highway between dense masses
of tropical foliage.

"I say, Jack, is Mr. Dunlap's place much fur-
ther? I don't half like its location," said Maxon
as he looked about him and noticed the absence

257

BLOOD WILL TELL

of houses and the thick underbrush.

"Why? What's the matter with it? Are you
leg weary already, you sea-swab?" cried Dunlap
laughing.

"Not a bit; but I'll tell you something that
may be a little imprudent in a naval officer, but
still I think you ought to know. The American
Consul fears some trouble from the blacks on
account of the concessions that Dictator Dupree
was forced to grant the whites before the Eng-
lish and American bankers would make the loan
that Mr. Dunlap negotiated. The rumor is that
the ignorant blacks from the mountains blame
your kinsman and mutter threats against him.
When Admiral Snave received the order at Gib-
raltar to call at Port au Prince on our way home
with the flag-ship Delaware and one cruiser, we
all suspected something was up, and after we
arrived and the old fighting-cock placed guards
at the American Consulate we felt sure of it,"
replied Lieutenant Tom seriously.

"Oh! pshaw, these black fellows are always
muttering and threatening but it ends at that,"
said Jack with a contemptuous gesture.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

" 'Luff round,' shipmate," suddenly called
Tom Maxon grabbing hold of Jack's arm and
pointing through a break in the jungle that lined
the roadway.

"Isn't that a queer combination over there by
that dead tree?" continued the officer directing
Jack's gaze to a cleared spot on the edge of the
forest.

In the dim light could be distinguished the
figure of a well-dressed man, who was not black,
in earnest conversation with a bent old hag of a
black woman who rested her hand familiarly and
affectionately upon his arm. Dunlap started
when he first glanced at them. The figure and
dress of the man was strangely similar to that
of Walter Burton.

"Some go-between in a dusky love affair
doubtless," said Jack shortly as he moved on.

"Well, I think I could select a better looking
Cupid," exclaimed Tom laughing at the sug-
gestion of the old witch playing the part of love's
messenger.

"By the way, Jack, speaking of Cupid, I re-
ceived a peculiar communication at Gibraltar,

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BLOOD WILL TELL

It was only a clipping from some society paper
ibut this was what it said: 'Mr. T. DeMontmor-
ency Jones has sailed in his magnificent yacht
the "Bessie" for the Mediterranean, where he
will spend the winter, En J>assant} rumor says
the engagement between Mr. Jones and one of
Boston's most popular belles has been termina-
ted/ This same spindle shanked popinjay of a
millionaire was sailing in the wake of my inam-
orata and was said to have cut me out of the race
after my Trafalgar. So, when I tell you, old
chap, that the writing on the envelope looks
suspiciously like the chirography of Miss Eliza-
beth Winthrop, you can guess why I can sing
There's a sweetheart over the sea*
'And she's awaiting there for me.' "

The light-hearted lieutenant aroused the birds
from their roosts by the gusto of his boisterous
baritone in his improvised song. He stopped
short and said abruptly

"Jack, why the deuce didn't you fall in love
with the little Princess and marry her yourself?"

"Hold hard, Tom. My cousin Lucy is the
object of too much serious concern to us all to

260

BLOOD WILL TELL

'be made the subject of jest just now, even by
you, comrade, and what you ask is infernal non-
sense anyhow," replied Jack, somewhat confused
and with more heat than seemed justifiable.

"Oh ! I beg your pardon, Jack. You know that
I'm such a thoughtless fool, I didn't think how
the question might sound," said Tom quickly, in
embarrassment.

Captain Dunlap made no mistake in promising
the lieutenant of the U. S. N. a good dinner, rare
wine and fine cigars. John Dunlap in the desert
of Sahara would have surrounded himself, some-
how, with all the accessories necessary to an ideal
'host.

Good-natured Tom Maxon exercised himself
to the utmost in cheering the old gentleman and
dispelling any loneliness or gloom that he might
feel. Tom told amusing anecdotes of the iras-
cible admiral, recounted odd experiences and
funny incidents in his term of service among the
Philippinoes and Chinese ; he sang queer parodies
on popular ballads, and rollicking, jolly sea songs
until the old gentleman, temporarily forgetting
his care and grief, was laughing like a school-
boy.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

When they were seated, feet upon the railing,
a la Americaine, on the broad1 piazza, listening to
the songs of the tropical night birds, as they
smoked their cigars, the lieutenant recalled the'
subject of the location of Mr. Dunlap's house, by
saying,

"I mentioned to Jack, while on my way here,
sir, that it seemed to me that you would be safer
nearer the American Consulate in case anv
trouble should arise concerning the concessions
to the whites made by Dupree."

"Oh! I don't think that there is any occasion
for alarm. To bluff and bluster is part of the
negro nature. The whole talk is inspired by the
agitation caused by the Voo Doo priests and
priestesses among the superstitious blacks from
the mountains. By the way, Jack, our old friend
the witch who wished to sail in your ship with
us when we left for Boston, still haunts my prem-
ises." As if to corroborate what the speaker had
just said, a wailing chant arose on the tranquil
night air, coming from just beyond the wall
around the garden,

"Oh ! Tu Konk, my Tu Konk"
"Send back the black blood."

262

BLOOD WILL TELL

"There she is now," exclaimed Jack and Mr.
Dunlap at the same time.

"My black boy who waits at the table told me
that the old crone was holding meetings nightly
in worship of Voo Doo, 'and that too in the very
suburbs of the city," said Mr. Dunlap when the
sound of old Sybella's voice died away in the
distance.

"Where is Burton tonight?" asked Jack as if
recalling something.

"I don't know. When he does not appear at
the established dinner hour I take it for granted
that he is at the club in the city or dining with
some of his newly made friends. He is quite
popular here, being a Haitian himself," replied
the old gentleman

s}t if: J}c ^s sf; $z ^j

It was late that night when Walter Burton en-
tered the apartments reserved for his exclusive
use in the house of John Dunlap. Throwing
off his coat he sat down in a great easy chair in
the moonlight by the open window and lighted a
cigar.

"I wish that I were free to fly to the mountains

263

BLOOD WILL TELL

and 'hide myself here in Haiti among my own
people forever," sighed the young man glancing
away off to the shadowy outline of the hills
against the moonlit sky.

"The sensation of being pitied is humiliating
and hateful, and that was what I endured during
the voyage from Boston, and have suffered ever
since I arrived and have 'been in enforced asso-
ciation with the Dunlaps. The devoted love for
Lucy, my wife, is a source of pain, not pleasure.
Her unreasoning antipathy now is more bearable
than will surely be the repulsion that must arise
if, when restored to reason, she learn that I am
the author of the cause of her disappointment,
horror and dementia. Woe is mine under any
circumstances! The evil consequences of at-
tempted amalgamation of the negro and white
races are not borne alone by the white partici-
pants but fall as heavily upon those of the negro
blood who share in the abortive effort."

Burton seemed to ruminate for a long while,
smoking in silence, then he muttered,

"Am I much happier when with my own race?
Hardly! When I am in the society of even the

264

BLOOD WILL TELL

most highly culivated Haitian negroes I am un-
able to free myself from the thought that we are
much like a lot of monkeys, such as Italian street
musicians carry with them. We negroes are
togged out in the dignity, education and culture
of the white race, but we are only aping the nat-
ural, self-evolved civilization and culture of the
whites. The clothing does not fit us, the gar-
ments were not cut according to our mental and
moral measurements, and we appear ridiculous
when we don the borrowed trappings of the white
race's mind, and pompously strut before an
amused and jeering world."

"When I imagined the mantle that I wore was
my own it set lightly and comfortably on me.
Now that I realize that it is the property of an-
other, it has become cumbersome, unwieldy, awk-
ward and is slipping rapidly from my shoulders."

"On the other side of the subject are equal
difficulties. If, weary of imitation and affecta-
tion, I seek the society of my race in all its natural
purity and ignorance, my senses have become so
acute, softened and made tender by the long use
of my borrowed mantle that I am shocked, horri-

265

BLOOD WILL TELL

fied or disgusted. Oh! Son of Ham, escape
from the doom pronounced against you while
yet time was new seems impossible. In My Book
it is writ, saith fhe Lord !"

In melancholy musing the man tortured by so
many contrary emotions and feelings, sat silently
gazing at the distant stars and then cried out in
anguish of spirit,

"Oh! that I should be forced to feel that the
Creator of all this grand universe is unjust!
That I should regard education and culture as a
curse to those foredoomed to be hewers of wood
and drawers of water. That I should realize
that refinement is a cankerous limb, a clog and
hindrance to a negro, unfitting him for associa-
tion with his own race and yet impotent to change
those innate characteristics inherited by him from
his ancestors, that disqualify him from homoge-
neousness with the white race."

The young man's voice was full of despair and
even something of reproach as his subtle intellect
wove the meshes of the adamantine condition
that bound him helpless, in agony, to the rack of
race inferiority.

266

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Mother Sybella, who has proven herself my
great-grandmother, urges me to fly and seek
among my own people that surcease from suffer-
ing unattainable among the whites. While she
fascinates me, she fills me with horror. I am
drawn toward her yet I am repelled by something
loathsome in the association with her. She seems
to possess hypnotic power over my senses ; she
leads me by some magnetic influence that exerts
control over the negro portion of my nature."

"I am ashamed to be seen by the white people,
especially the Dunlaps, in familiar conversation
with the grandmother of my mocher, but in our
secret and frequent interviews she has told me
much that I was unaware of concerning my an-
cestors and my mother. I have promised to at-
tend a meeting of my kinsmen tomorrow night,
which will be held in a secluded spot near the
city, whither she herself will guide me. I do not
wish to go. I did not wish to make the promise
and appointment to meet her, but was compelled
by the overmastering power she wields over the
natural proclivities within me. I must meet her
and go with her."

267

BLOOD WILL TELL

The struggle in the dual nature of the man be-
tween the contending forces of the innate and
the acquired was obvious in the reluctant tone
in which, while he admitted that he would obey
the innate, he lamented the abandonment of the
acquired.

"I must go, I feel that I must! My destiny
was written ere Shem, Ham and Japhet sepa-
rated to people the world. I bow to the inevi-
table! I am pledged to Dupree for dinner to-
morrow evening, but I shall excuse myself early,
and keep my appointment with Mother Sybella,
and accompany her to the meeting of my kin-
dred.

268

XVL

THE cleared spot selected by Mother
Sybella as the scene of her mystic
ceremonies and the gathering place
of the worshipers of Voo Doo, though
scarcely beyond the outskirts of the city,
was so screened by the umbrageous growth of
tropical forest, interlaced with vanilla and grape-
vines that festoon every woodland of Haiti, that
its presence was not even suspected save by the
initiated.

On the night that Dictator Dupree entertained,
among other guests the wealthy Haitian, Walter
Burton, partner in the great American house of
"J. Dunlap," and husband of the heiress to the
millions accumulated by the long line of "J. Dun-
flaps" which had controlled the Halitian trade
with the United States, a strange and uncanny
drama was enacted almost within sound of the
music that enlivened the Dictator's banquet.

Through trees entwined by gigantic vines, re-

269

BLOOD WILL TELL

semlbling monstrous writhing serpents, glided
silently many dark forms carrying blazing
torches of resinous wood to guide the flitting fig-
ures through the intricacies of the hardly defin-
able pathways that ran in serpentine indistinct-
ness toward the clear spot, where Mother Sybella
had set up the altar of Tu Konk, and was calling
her children to worship by the booming of an
immense red drum upon which she beat at short
intervals.

In the center of the clearing, coiled upon the
stump of a large tree, was a huge black snake,
that occasionally reared its head and, waving it
from side to side, emitted a fearful hissing sound
as it shot forth its scarlet, flame-like tongue.

Torches and bon-fires illuminated the spot and
cast gleams of light upon the dark faces and dis-
tended, white and rolling eyes of the men and
women who, squatting in a circle back in the
shade of the underbrush, chanted a monotonous
dirge-like invocation to the Voo Doo divinity
called by them Tu Konk, and supposed to dwell
in the loathsome body of the serpent on the
stump.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

By almost imperceptible degrees the blows up-
on the drum increased in frequency; old Sybella
seemed some tireless fiend incarnate as gradually
she animated the multitude and quickened the
growing excitement of her emotional lijteners
<by the ceaseless booming of her improved tom-
tom. Soon the forest began to resound with
hollow bellowing of conch shells carried by many
of the squatters about the circle. The chant be-
came quicker. Shouting took the place of the
droning monotonous incantations to Tu Konk.

Higher and higher grew the gale of excite-
ment. The shouting grew in volume and intens-
ity. Wild whoops mingled with the more sonor-
ous shouts that made the forest reverberate.

Suddenly the half-clad figure of a man sprang
into the circle of light that girded the stump
whereon the now irritated snake was hissing con-
tinuously. The man was bare to the waist and
without covering on his legs and feet below the
knees; his eyes glared about him, the revolving
white balls in their ebony colored setting was
something terrifying to behold. The man uttered
whoop after whoop and began shuffling sideways

271

BLOOD WILL TELL

around the stump, every moment adding to the
rapidity and violence of his motions until shortly
he was madly bounding into the air and with
savage shouts tearing at the wool on his head,
while white foam flecked his bare black breast.

The man's madness became contagious. Fig-
ure after figure sprang within the lighted space
about the serpent. Men, women, and even chil-
dren all more or less nude, the few garments worn
presenting a 'heterogeneal kaleidoscope of vivid,
garish colors as the frenzied dancers whirled
about in the irregular light of the torches and
bonfires.

Soon spouting streams of red stained the glis-
tening black bodies, and joined the tide of white
foam pouring from the protruding, gaping, blub-
ber lips of the howling, frantic worshipers.

The fanatic followers of Voo Dooism were
wounding themselves in the delirium of irrespon-
sible emotion. Blood gushed from long gashes
made by sharp knives on cheeks, breasts, backs
and limbs. The gyrations of the gory, crazed
and howling mass were hideous to behold.

When the tempest of curbless frenzy seemed

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BLOOD WILL TELL

to have readied a point beyond which increase
appeared impossible, old Sybella rushed forward,
like the wraith of the ancient witch of En-dor,
dashing the dancers aside, springing to the stump
she seized the snake and winding its shining
coils about her she waved aloft the long, glitter-
ing blade of the knife that she held in hand, and
shrieked out, in the voice of an infuriated fiend,

"Bring forth the hornless goat. Let Tu Konk
taste the blood of the 'hornless one!"

A crowd of perfectly naked and bleeding men
darted forward bearing in their midst an entirely
nude girl, who in a perfect paroxysm of terror
fought, writhed and struggled fearfully, yelling
wildly all the time, in the grip of her merciless
and insensate captors.

The men stretched the screaming wretch across
the stump on Which the snake had rested, pressed
back the agonized girl's head until her slender
neck was drawn taut. Quick as the serpent's
darting tongue, Sybella's bright, sharp blade de-
scended, severing at one stroke the head almost
from the quivering body.

A fiercer, wilder cry arose from tlie insane de-

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BLOOD WILL TELL

votees as a great tub nearly full of fiery native
rum was placed to catch the gushing stream that
flowed in a crimson torrent from the still twitch-
ing body of the sacrifice to Voo Doo.

Sybella stirred the horrible mixture of blood
and rum with a ladle, made of an infant's skull
affixed to a shin-bone of an adult human being,
and having replaced the snake upon his throne,
on the stump, in an abject posture presented to
the serpent the ladle filled with the nauseating
stuff. The re-incarnate Tu Konk thrust his head
repeatedly into the skull-bowl and scattered drops
of the scarlet liquid over his black and s'hining
coils.

Then Sybella using the skull-ladle began filling
enormous dippers made of gourds, that the eager,
maddened crowd about the Voo Doo altar held
expectantly forth, craving a portion in the liba-
tion to Tu Konk.

The maniacal host gorged themselves with the
loathsome fluid, gulped down in frenzied haste,
great draughts of that devilish brew, from the
large calabashes that Sybella filled.

Now hell itself broke forth. No longer were

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BLOOD WILL TELL

the worshipers men and women. The lid was
lifted from hell's deepest, most fiendish caldron.
A crew of damned demons was spewed out upon
earth. With demoniac screams that rent the
calmness of the night, they beat and gashed them-
selves, their slabbering, thick lips slapping to-
gether as they gibbered, like insane monkeys,
sending flying showers of foam over their bare
and bleeding bodies. Human imps of hell's cre-
ation fell senseless to the ground or writhing in
hideous, inhuman convulsions twined their dis-
torted limbs about the furious dancers who
stamped upon their hellish faces and brought
the dancers shrieking to the earth.

In the midst of this pandemonium, redolent
with the odor of inferno, a dark figure, that,
crouched in the deep shade of the clustering palm
plants, and covered with a dark mantle, had re-
mained unnoticed a spectatoriof the scene, sprang
up, hurled to one side the concealing cloak and
bounded toward the stump whereon the serpent
hissed defiance at his adorers.

With an unearthly yell, half-groan, half-moan,
but all insane, frantic and wild, the neophyte

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BLOOD WILL TELL

leaped about in erratic gyrations of adoration be-
fore the snake, that embodiment of Tu Konk, the
Voo Doo divinity.

As whirling and, in an ecstacy of emotion,
waving aloft his hands the howling dancer turned
and the light of the bonfire fell upon his face, the
brutalized features of Walter Burton were re-
vealed.

Those refined, aesthetic features that had made
the man "the observed of all observers" at Miss
'Stanhope's musicale in Boston, had scarcely been
recognized as the same in the strangely flattened
nose, the thickened lips, the popped and rolling
eyes of the man who, in the forest glade of Haiti
danced before the Voo Doo god Tu Konk the
serpent.

Burton's evening dress was torn and disar-
ranged, his hair disheveled, his immaculate linen
spotted with blood, his shoes broken and muddy,
his face contorted and agonized, as twisting and
squirming in every limb he sprang and leaped in
a fiercely violent dance before the snake. Yells
of long pent-up savage fury rang through the
dank night air, as Burton threw back his head

and whooped in barbarous license.
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BLOOD WILL TELL

Sybella's flashing eyes gleamed with joy as she
gazed at this reclaimed scion of the negro race.
She stole toward the flying figure that spun
around, transported to the acme of insane emo-
tion, singing in triumphant screeches as she crept
forward,

"Tu Konk, the Great one"

"Tu Konk, I thank thee"

"Back comes black blood"

"No longer childless"

"Tu Konk, I praise thee."

sk ?Jc sk sk «te ste 3k 3k

Mr. Dunlap was aroused at daylight by a mes-
senger wearing the naval uniform of the United
States, who waited below with an important com-
munication from Lieutenant Maxon.

Two hours before Mr. Dunlap heard the rap
on 'his bedroom door, a pale and trembling figure,
clothed in a dilapidated evening suit, had slunk
stealthily past his chamber and entered the apart-
ments occupied by the husband of the Dunlap
heiress.

"Dear Mr. Dunlap.— I am instructed by Ad-
miral Snave to inform you that an uprising of

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the blacks is imminent ; that it will be impossible
to protect you in your exposed position should
such an event take place. The admiral suggests
that you remove your family at once to the Amer-
ican Consulate, where protection will be fur-
nished all Americans. Very respectfully,

Thomas Maxon,
Lieut. U. S. N."

"P. S. — Please adopt the Admiral's suggestion.
I think you had better let Jack know about this.

T. M."

Such were the contents of the letter of which
the U. S. marine was bearer and it was answered
as follows:

"Dear Mr. Maxon. — Express my gratitude to
Admiral Snave for the suggestion, but be good
enough to add that the health of my niece de-
mands absolute quiet and that I shall remain here
instead of going to the crowded Consulate; that
I deem any disturbance as exceedingly improb-
able from my intimate acquaintance with the
character of the natives of this island.
Very respectfully,

J. Dunlap.

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P. S. — Will notify Jack to bring a man or two
from his ship to guard premises for a night or
so.

In the evening, as the shadows of night fell
upon the house of Mr. John Dunlap and the owls
began to flutter from their roosts and hoot, Mr.
Brice, first officer, and McLeod, the big, bony
carpenter of the "Adams" were seated on the
steps of the piazza in quiet contentment, puffing
the good cigars furnished by Mr. Dunlap after,
what seemed to them, a sumptuous banquet.

"I declare, Jack, were it not that the conse-
quences might be serious, I should rather enjoy
seeing long-limbed Brice and that wild, red-
haired Scotchman of yours, led by you, charging
an angry mob of blacks, armed with those anti-
quated cutlasses that your fellows brought from
the ship. The blacks would surely run in poire
fright at the supposed resurrection of the ancient
buccaneers. No scene in a comic opera could
compare with what you and your men would
present/' said Mr. Dunlap in an amused tone, as
he rocked back and forth in an easy chair on the
veranda, and chatted with his namesake, Jack.

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— — — murnrannTiTiraiiMgCTOT

"It might be amusing to you, sir," replied Jack
laughing, "but it would be death to any black
who came within the swing of either of the cut-
lasses carried by Brice and McLeod. I picked
up a half dozen of those old swords at a sale in
Manila, and decorated my cabin with them.
When I told the men that there might be a fight
they could find no other weapons on board ship
so denuded my cabin of its decorations and
brought them along. Of course I have a revol-
ver but in a rush those old cutlasses could do
fearful execution. They are heavy and as sharp
as razors."

"While I am unwilling to take even a remote
risk with Lucy and your mother in the house, still
in my opinion there is not one chance in a million
that anything but bluff and bluster will come of
this muttering. Admiral Snave is always anxious
for a fight, and the wish is father of the thought
in this alarm," said the old gentleman.

"Why isn't Burton here?" asked Jack almost
angrily.

"He is up stairs. He has been feeling ill all
day and asked not to be disturbed unless he be

280

BLOOD WILL TELL

needed. I shall let him rest. However, he has
a revolver and is an excellent shot and will prove
a valuable aid to us should the fools attempt to
molest the premises."

For an hour or two Brice and McLeod ex-
changed an occasional word or two but gradually
these brief speeches became less frequent and
finally ceased altogether. Mr. Dunlap and Jack
carried on a desultory conversation for some
time, but had sat in silent communion with their
own thoughts for possibly an hour when, under
the somnific influence of the night songsters, the
Scotch ship-carpenter yawned, rose to his feet
and stretched his long, hairy arms. He paused
in the act and thrust forward his head to catch
some indistinct sound, then growled,

"I hear murmuring like surf on a lee-shore."

Brice arose and listened for a minute then
called out,

"Captain, I hear the sound of bare feet patter-
ing on the highway."

Jack was on his feet in an instant and ran down
the" walk to the gate in the high brick wall that
surrounded the premises. He came running back

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almost immediately and said in low voice as he
reached the piazza.

"There is a mob coming toward the house,
along the road leading from the mountains. They
carry torches and may mean mischief. Cousin
John, will you have Burton called and will you
please remain here to look after the women. Brice
you and McLeod get cutlasses and bring me one
also. We will meet the mob at the gate."

"Oh ! It is nothing Jack, maybe a negro frolic.
No use arousing Burton," said the elder Dunlap.

"If you please, sir, do as I ask. I will be pre-
pared in any event/' said Jack Dunlap tersely.

"All right, Commander, the laugh will be at
your expense," cried the amused old gentleman
as he ordered a servant to call Burton.

Jack and his two stalwart supporters had barely
reached the gate when the advance guard of the
savage horde of black mountaineers appeared
before it. Instantly it flashed upon the mind of
the skipper that if he barred the gate, that then
part of the mob might go around and break over
the wall in the rear of the house and attack the
defenceless women.

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"Throw open the gate, McLeod, we will meet
them here," commanded Captain Dunlap, and
turning as some one touched his shoulder, he
found Burton at his side, very pale and but half
clad, with a revolver in his hand.

"Glad you are here, Burton."

"I did not have time to put on my shoes." said
Burton.

The main body of the mob now came up and
gathered about the open gate. The men were
armed with clubs and knives and some few, who
were evidently woodsmen, carried axes. Many
torches shed their light over the black and brutal
faces, making them appear more ebony by the
white and angry eyes that glared at the men who
stood ready to do battle just within the gate- way.

"I wish you people to understand that if you
attempt to enter this gate many of you will be
killed."

Young Dunlap spoke in a quiet voice, as he
stood between the pillars of the gate, but there
was such an unmistakable menace in the steady
tone that even the ignorant barbarians understood
what he meant.

283

BLOOD WILL TELL

For the space of a minute of time the mob hes-
itated. Suddenly a tall woodsman struck a
sweeping, chopping blow with his ax. The skip-
per sprang aside just in time, and as quick as a
flash of lightning a stream of flame poured out
of the pistol he held in his hand, and that woods-
man would never chop wood again.

Brice and McLeod had cast aside their coats,
and with their long, sinewy arms bared to the
elbows, cutlasses grasped in their strong hands,
they were by Jack's side in a second.

As the pistol shot rang out it seemed to give
the signal for an assault. With a howl, like
wild and enraged animals, the mob rushed upon
the men at the gate. The rush was met by the
rapid discharge of the revolvers held by Dunlap
and Burton ; for a moment it was checked, then a
shrill voice was heard screaming high above the
'howling of the savages,

"Kill the white cow ! She has stolen our son
from us ! Kill the Yankee robbers ! Spare my
black goat!"

Sybella could be heard though concealed by the
tall black men of the mountains who again hurled

284

BLOOD WILL TELL

themselves on the white men who guarded the
gateway.

The revolvers were empty. Jack sent his fly-
ing into a black face as he gripped the hilt of his
cutlass and joined old Brice and the carpenter in
the deadly reaping they were doing. Burton
having no other weapon than the revolver, threw
it aside and seized a club that had dropped from
the hands of one of the slain blacks.

The sweep of tho;e old cutlasses in the power-
ful hands that held them was awful, magnificent ;
no matter what may have been the history of
those old blades they had never been wielded as
now. But numbers began to tell and the infur-
iated negroes fought like fiends, urged on by
the old siren Sybella who shrieked out a kind of
battle song of the blacks.

How long the four held back the hundreds
none can tell, but it seemed an age to the fast
wearying men who held the gate. A blow from
an ax split McLeod's head and he fell dead with-
out even a groan. Brice turned as he heard his
shipmate fall and received a stunning smash on
the temple from a club that felled him like an
ox in the shambles.

285

BLOOD WILL TELL

Jack saw Burton, who was fighting furiously,
beset 'by two savage blacks armed with axes
stuck on long poles. In that supreme moment of
peril the thought of Lucy's sorrow at loss of her
husband, should she be restored to reason, came
to the mind of the great hearted sailor. He reck-
lessly rushed in front of Burton, severed at a
stroke of his sword the arm of one of Burton's
assailants, and caught the descending ax of the
other when within an inch of the head of the man
who had taken the place in Lucy's love that he
had hoped for.

Jack Dunlap's cutlass warded off the blow from
Burton but the sharp ax glanced along the blade
and was buried in the broad breast of Lucy's
knight, and he fell across the bodies of his faith-
ful followers, Brice and McLeod; Jack's fast
deafening ears caught sound of —

"Follow me, lads, give them cold steel. Don't
s'hoot. You may hit friends ! Charge !"

Tom Maxon's voice was far from jolly now.
There was death in every note of it as, at the
head of a body of United States Blue- jackets, he
dashed in among the black barbarians. When

he caught sight of the prostrate, bleeding form
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BLOOD WILL TELL

of his old school-fellow he raged like a wounded
lion among Sybella's savage followers.

As the lieutenant saw that the range of fire
was free from his friends, he cried out, hoarse
with passion,

"Fire at will. Give them hell !" and he emptied
his own revolver into the huddled crowd of moun-
taineers, who still stood, brave to recklessness,
hesitating about what to do against the new ad-
versaries.

The repeating rifles of the Americans soon
covered the roadway with dark corpses. Long
lanes were cut by the rapid fire through the
'black mass. With howls and yells of mingled
terror, rage and disappointment the mob broke
and taking to the jungle disappeared in the dark-
ness of the adjacent forest.

A sailor kicked aside what he thought was a
'bundle of rags, and started back as the torch that

he 'bore revealed the open, fangless mouth and
snake-like, glaring eyes of an old crone of a
woman who in death seemed even more horrible
than in life.

A rifle ball, at close range, had shattered
Mother Sybella's skull.

287

XVII.

ALL established rules of the house of "J.
Dunlap" were as the laws of the Medes
and Persians to David Chapman, invio-
lable. When the hour of twelve struck and
neither Mr. John Dunlap nor Mr. Burton ap-
peared at "the office, the Superintendent immedi-
ately proceeded to the residence of Mr. Dunlap.

"I am sorry, Chapman, to have given you the
trouble of coming out here, but the fact is I am
not so strong as formerly, and I expected that
Burton would be at the office and thought a day
of repose might benefit me," remarked Mr. John
Dunlap as Chapman entered his library carrying
a bundle of papers this March afternoon.

"Mr. Burton has only been at the office once
within the past week and not more than a dozen
times since you all returned from Haiti some two
imonfths ago," replied the Superintendent, me-
thodically arranging the various memoranda on
the large library table.

288

feE recklessly rushed in front of Burton."

Page 286

BLOOD WILL TELL

"First in order of date is as follows : Douglass
and McPherson, the solicitors at Glasgow, write
that they have purchased the annuity for old Mrs.
McLeod and that the income secured to her is
far larger than any possible comfort or even lux-
ury can require ; they also say that the lot in the
graveyard has been secured and that the mother
of the dead ship carpenter is filled with gratitude
for the granite stone you have provided to mark
her son's grave and that no nobler epitaph for
any Scotsman could be carved than the one sug-
gested by you to be cut on the stone, 'Died de-
fending innocent women;' they expect the body
to arrive within a few days and will follow in-
structions concerning the reinterment of the re-
mains of gallant McLeod ; they add that beyond
all expenditures ordered they will hold a balance
to our credit and ask what is your pleasure con-
cerning same, that the four thousand pounds
remitted by you was far too large a sum."

"Far too small ! Tell them to buy a cottage
for McLeod's mother and draw at sight for more
money, that the cottage may be a good one.
Why! Chapman, McLeod was a hero; but they

289

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were all of them that. He, however, gave his
life in our defense and there is no money value
that can repay that debt to him and his," ex-
claimed Mr. Dunlap earnestly, and leaning for-
ward in the excitement that the recollection of
the past recalled, continued:

"David, the dead were heaped about the spot
where McLeod, Brice and Jack fell like corded
fire-wood. When I could leave the women,
Lieutenant Maxon and his men had dispersed
the blacks, I fairly waded in blood to reach
the place where Maxon and Burcon were bend-
ing over Jack. It was a fearful sight. It had
been an awful struggle, but it was all awful that
nigfat. I dared not leave the women, yet I knew
that even my weak help was needed at the gate.
Had my messenger not met Maxon on the road,
to whom notice of the intended attack had been
given by a friendly black, we had all been killed."

The excited old gentleman paused to regain his
breath and resumed the story of that dreadful
experience.

"Martha Dunlap is the kind of woman to be
mother of a hero. She was as calm and brave

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BLOOD WILL TELL

as her son and helped me like a real heroine in
keeping the others quiet. We told Lucy it was
only a jubilee among the natives and that they
were shouting and shooting off firearms in their
sport along the highway. God forgive me for the
falsehood, but it served to keep our poor girl per-
fectly calm and she does not even now know to
the contrary." Mr. Dunlap reverently inclined
his head when he spoke of that most excusable
lie that he had told.

"Jack does not get all of his nerve and courage
from the Dunlap blood, that is sure ! When the
surgeon was examining the great gash in his
breast, Martha stood at his side and held the
basin ; her hand never trembled though her tear-
less face was as white as snow. All the others
of us, I fear, were blubbering like babies, I know,
anyhow Tom Maxon was whimpering more like
a lass than the brave and terrible fighter that he
is. When the surgeon gave us the joyful news
that the blow of the ax had been stopped by the
strong breast bone over our boy's brave heart,
we were all ready to shout with gladness, but
Martha then, woman like, broke down and began
weeping."

291

BLOOD WILL TELL

There was rather a suspicious moisture in the
eyes of the relator of the scene, as he thought
over the occurrences of that night in Haiti. Even
though all danger was past and his beloved name-
sake, Jack Dunlap, was now so far recovered as
to be able to walk about, true somewhat paler
in complexion and with one arm bound across
his breast, but entirely beyond danger from the
blow of the desperate Haitian axman.

"That fighting devil of an American admiral
soon cleared Port au Prince of the insurgents
and wished me to take up my residence at the
•consulate, but I had enough of Haiti, for awhile
anyway. So as soon as Jack could safely be
moved, and old Brice, whose skull must be made
of iron, had come around sufficiently after that
smashing blow in the head, to take command of
the 'Adams' and navigate her to Boston, I bun-
dled everybody belonging to me aboard and
sailed for home." The word home came with a
sigh of relief from Mr. Dunlap's lips as be set-
tled back in his chair.

"When we heard xjf your frightful experience,
I had some faint hope that the shock might have
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BLOOD WILL TELL

restored Mrs. Burton to her normal condition
of mind," said Chapman.

"Well, in the first place Lucy learned nothing
concerning the affair, and was simply told when
she called for Jack that he was not well and
would be absent from her for a short time. But
even had she received a nervous shock from the
harrowing events of that night, the experts in
mental disorders inform me that it is most un-
likely that any good result could have been pro-
duced ; that as the primary cause of her dementia
is disappointed hope, expectation, and the recoil
of the purest and best outpouring of her heart,
that the only shock at all probable to bring about
the desired change must come from a similar
source," answered Mr. Dunlap.

"To proceed with my report," said the Super-
intendent glancing over some papers.

"Lieutenant Maxon is not wealthy, in fact, has
only his pay from the United States, and while
his family is one of the oldest and most highly
respected in Massachusetts all the members of it
are far from rich. The watch ordered made in
New York will be finished by the time the U. S.

293

BLOOD WILL TELL

Ship Delaware arrives, which will not be 'before
next month."

"That all being as you have ascertained, I am
going to make a requisition upon your ingenuity,
David. You must secure the placing in Maxon's
hands of twenty one-thousand dollar bills with
no other explanation than that it is from 'an ad-
mirer.' The handsome, gay fellow may think
some doting old dowager sent it to him. The
watch I will present as a slight token of my
friendship when I have him here to dine with
me, and he can never suspect me in the money
matter." Mr. Dunlap chuckled at the deep cun-
ning of the diabolical scheme.

Chapman evidently was accustomed to the un-
stinted munificence of the house of Dunlap, for
he accepted the instruction quite as a mere detail
of the business, made a few notes and with his
pen held between his teeth as he folded the paper,
mumbled :

"111 see that he gets the money all right, sir,
without knowing where it comes from."

"Here are several things that Mr. Burton, who
is familiar with the preceding transactions,

294

BLOOD WILL TELL

should pass upon, but as he is so seldom at the
office, I have had no opportunity to lay them be-
fore him," continued the ever vigilant Chapman,
turning over a number of documents.

"I know even less than you do about Burton's
department, so make out the best way that you
can under the circumstances."

"Is Mr. Burton ill, sir, or what is the reason
why he is absent from the office so much ?" asked
Chapman, to whom it seemed that the greatest
deprivation in life must be loss of ability to be
present daily in the office of J. Dunlap.

"I am utterly at a loss to explain Burton's con-
duct, especially since our return from Haiti. He
is morbid, melancholy, and seems to avoid the
society of all those who formerly were his chosen
associates and companions. He calls or sends
•here daily with religious regularity to ascertain
the condition of Lucy's health, and occasionally
asks Jack to accompany him on a ride behind
his fine team. You know that he is aware that
Jack saved his life by taking the blow on his own
breast that was aimed at Burton's head. He
was devoted to Jack on the voyage home and

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BLOOD WILL TELL

here, until Jack's recovery was assured beyond a
doubt, but now he acts so peculiarly that I don't
know what to make of him," replied the per-
plexed old gentleman.

"Humph! Humph!" grunted Chapman, in a
disparaging tone, and resumed the examination
of the sheets of paper before him. Selecting one,
he said:

"I find Malloy, the father of the girl, who was
the victim of that nameless crime and afterward
murdered, to be a respectable, worthy man, poor,
but in need of no assistance. He is a porter at
Brown Brothers. It appears that the girl, who
was only fifteen years of age, was one of the
nursery maids in the Greenleaf family, and had
obtained permission to visit her father's home on
the night of the crime and was on her way there
when she was assaulted."

"What has been done by the Police Depart-
ment?" asked Mr. Dunlap eagerly.

"To tell the truth, very little. The detectives
seem mystified by a crime of so rare occurrence
in our section that it has shocked the whole of
New England. However, I know what would

296

BLOOD WILL TELL

have happened had the crowd assembled around
Malloy's house when the body was brought home,
been able to lay hands on the perpetrator of the
deed, the whole police force of Boston notwith-
standing."

"What do you mean, David?"

"I mean that the wretch would have been
lynched," exclaimed Chapman.

"That had been a disgrace to the Common-
wealth of Massachusetts," said the old gentleman
warmly.

"That may or may not be, sir. Malloy and
his friends are all peaceable, law-abiding citizens.
Malloy was almost a maniac, not at the death
of his child but the rest of the crime, and the
agony of the heart-broken father was too much
for the human nature of his neighbors, and hu-
man nature is the same in New England as else-
where in our land "

"But the law will punish crime and must be
respected no matter what may be the provocation
to ignore its regular administration of justice,"
said Mr. Dunlap with a judicial air.

"Truth is, sir, that one can hardly comprehend

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a father's feelings under such circumstances, and
I don't imagine there is a great difference be-
tween the paternal heart in Massachusetts and in
Mississippi. Human nature is much alike in the
same race in every clime. Men of the North
may occasionally be slower to wrath but are fear-
fully in earnest when aroused by an outrage,"
rejoined Chapman.

"I frankly confess, David, that I recognize that
it is one thing for me to sit here calmly in my
library and coolly discuss a crime in which I have
no direct personal interest, and announce that
justice according to written law only should be
administered, but it would be quite a different
state of mind with which I should regard this
crime if one of my own family were the victim
of the brute's attack. I fear then I should forget
about my calm theory of allowing the regular
execution of justice and everything else, even my
age and hoary head, and be foremost in seeking

quick revenge on the wretch," said the old New
Englander hotly.

"Knowing you and your family as I do, sir,
I'll make oath that you would head the mob of
lynchers."

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"My brother James, who was the soul of honor
and a citizen of whom the Commonwealth was
justly proud, was very liberal in his opinion of
lynching for this crime. It was the single crim-
inal act for which his noble, charitable heart
could find no excuse. I think even my brother
James, model citizen though he was, would have
been a law-forgetting man under such circum-
stances.,,

Old John Dunlap's voice grew soft and tender
when he mentioned the name of his beloved
brother, and either Chapman became extraordi-
narily near-sighted or the papers in his hand re-
quired close scrutiny.

"I have published the notice of the reward of
one thousand dollars offered by our house for the
capture of the perpetrator of the crime," said the
Superintendent rather huskily, changing the sub-
ject from that of the character of his old master.

"That is well, we are the oldest business house
in Boston, and none can think it presumptuous
that we should be anxious to erase this stain
from the escutcheon of our Commonwealth. I
wish every inducement offered that may lead to

299

BLOOD WILL TELL

the apprehension of the criminal." Mr. Dunlap
stopped short as if suddenly some new idea
had occurred to his mind, and then exclaimed:

"David, you possess a wonderful faculty for
fathoming deep and complex mysteries. Why
don't you seek to discover the perpetrator of this
horrible crime?"

David Chapman was not in the habit of blush-
ing, but certainly his cheeks took on an unusually
bright crimson hue, as Mr. Dunlap asked the
question, and he answered in a somewhat
abashed manner, as though detected in some act
of youthful folly.

"I confess, sir, that I am making a little inves-
tigation in my own way. There are a few
trifling circumstances and fragments of evidence
left by the criminal that were considered un-
worthy of attention by the police that I am trac-
ing up, like an amateur Sherlock Holmes."

"Good for you, David! May you succeed in
unearthing the brutal villain! You have carte-
hlanche to draw on the house for any expense
that your search may entail. Go ahead ! I will
stand by you!" cried John Dunlap enthusiasti-
cally.

300

XVIII.

THE abysmal depth of degradation has
now been reached; I no longer, even
in my moments of affected refinement,
attempt to conceal the fact from myself, the
gauzy veil of acquisition no longer deceives even
me, it long since failed to deceive others."

What evil genii of metamorphosis had trans-
formed the debonair Walter Burton into the
wretched, slovenly, brutalized being who, grunt-
ing, gave utterance to such sentiments, while
stretched, in unkempt abandonment, on a dis-
ordered couch in the center of the unswept and
neglected music-room in the 'Eyrie' early on this
March morning?

Even the linen of the once fastidious model of
masculine cleanliness was soiled, and the delights
of the bath seemed quite unknown to the heavy-
eyed, listless lounger on the couch.

"I have abandoned useless effort to rehabilitate

301

BLOOD WILL TELL

myself in the misfit garments of a civilization
and culture for which the configuration of my
mental structure, by nature, renders me unsuited.
My child indicated the off-springs natural to me.
My emotion and actions in the forest of Haiti
gave evidence of the degree of the pure spirit of
religion to be found in my inmost soul, and my
conduct, following natural inclinations, since my
return to Boston, has demonstrated how little
control civilization, morality, or pity have over
my inherent savage nature."

The man seemed in a peculiar way to derive
some satisfaction from, rehearsing the story of
his hopeless condition, and in the fact that he had
reached the limit of descent.

"I should have fled to the mountains of Haiti,
had I not been led to fight against my own kins-
men. For the moment I was blinded by the
thread-bare thought that I was of the white in-
stead of black race, and when I had time to free
my mind from that old misleading idea, my hands
were stained with the blood of my own race. I
was obliged to leave Haiti or suffer the fate that
ever overtakes a traitor to his race."

302

caraanaanirMii »—— ■ min n ■■■!— ^amnu ■- mg'. -sl-aw«»

BLOOD WILL TELL

"There is no hope of the restoration of my
wife's mental faculties, and even should there be
that is all the more reason for my fleeing from
Boston and forever disappearing, I retain enough
of the borrowed refinement of the whites in my
recollection to know that as* I am now I should be
loathesome to her."

"Here, I must shun the sight of those who
'know me, realizing that I can no longer appear
in the assumed character that I formerly did.
Here, I skulk the streets at night in the apparel
of a tramp seeking gratification of proclivities
that are natural to me."

"I know that I must leave this city and country
as quickly as possible. The long repressed de-
sires natural to me break forth with a fury that
renders me oblivious to consequences and my own
safety. Repression by civilization and culture
foreign to a race but serves to increase the vio-
lence of the outburst when the barrier once is
broken."

"I will go to the office today, secure some pri-
vate documents and notify Mr. Dunlap that I
•desire to withdraw at once from the firm of J.

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BLOOD WILL TELL

Dunlap. I will nerve myself for one more act
in the farce. I will don the costume in which I
paraded the stage so long for one more occa-
sion."

Burton arose slowly from his recumbent posi-
tion as if reluctant to resume even for a day a
character that had become tiresome and obnox-
ious to his negro nature.

itf ^tf *$r *V *V *S* v**

*J* +$+ <f* ^* Jfi 5Ji ^[»

David Chapman had on several occasions made
suggestions to the head of the Police Department
in Boston that had resulted in the detection and
apprehension of elusive criminals. Unlike many
professional detectives, Chief O'Brien welcomed
the aid of amateurs and listened respectfully to
theories, sometimes ridiculous, but occasionally
suggestive of the correct solution of an appar-
ently incomprehensible crime.

The deductive method of solving the problem
of a mysterious crime employed by Chapman was
not alone interesting to the Chief of Detectives,
but appeared wonderful in the correctness of the
conclusions obtained. He therefore gave eager
attention to what Chapman communicated to him

304

BLOOD WILL TELL

while seated in the Chief's private office on the
•evening of the day that Burton visited the office
of J. Dunlap to secure his private correspond-
ence and documents.

"In the first place, Chief, as soon as I learned
the details of this Malloy crime, I decided that
the perpetrator of it was of the negro race," said
Chapman, methodically arranging a number of
slips of paper on the Chief's desk, at which he
sat confronting O'Brien on the opposite side.

"How did you arrive at that decision?" said
the detective.

"Well, as you are aware, for you laughed at
me often enough when you ran across me with
my black associates, I 'slummed' among the
negroes for months to gain some knowledge of
the negro nature "

"Yes, I know that and often wondered at your
persistent prosecution of such a disagreeable un-
dertaking," said O'Brien.

"I learned in that investigation that beneath
the surface of careless, thoughtless gaiety and
good nature there lies a tremendous amount of
cruelty and brutal savagery in the negro nature ;

305

BLOOD WILL TELL

that dire results have been caused by a miscon-
ception of the negro character on this point to
those associated with them ; that while sensual
satiety produces lassitude in other races, in the
negro race it engenders a lust for blood that al-
most invariably results in the murder of the vic-
tim of a brutal attack. I checked the correctness
of my conclusions by an examination of all ob-
tainable records and completely verified the accu-
racy of my deduction.'*

"That had not occurred to me before," said the
Chief frankly ; "now that you mention it, I think
from the record of that crime, as it recurs to me
at this moment, that your statement is true."

"The next step was to look for the particular
individual of the negro race who could fit in with
the trifling evidence in your possession, which
you so readily submitted to me. From the mold
taken by your men of the criminal's foot-prints it
is evident that his feet were small and clad in
expensive shoes. In the shape of the imprints I
find corroboration of my premise that the author
of the crime was of the negro race. The frag-
ment of finger nail embedded in the girl's throat,

306

BLOOD TILL TELL

under a microscope reveals the fact that., while
the nail was not free from dirt, it had recently
been under the manipulation of a manicure and
was not of thick, coarse grain like a manual
laborer's nails,'' said the amateur detective glanc-
ing at his notes.

'"'Yes, I agree in all that, Mr. Chapman. Go
ahead; what follows?'' remarked O'Brien.

"We have then a negro, but one not engaged
in the usual employment of the negro residents
in Boston, to look for ; next you found clutched
in the fingers of the dead girl two threads of
brownish color and coarse material, together with
a fragment of paper like a part of an envelope
on which was written a few notes of music."

"Yes, and I defy the devil to make anything
result from such infinitesimal particles of evi-
dence," exclaimed the professional detective.

"Well, I'm not the devil." said Chapman,
quietly proceeding to recapitulate the process
adopted by him.

"From the few notes — you know that I am
something of a musician — I began, poco a poco,
as they say in music, to reconstruct the tune of

307

BLOOD WILL TELL

which the few notes were a part. As I proceeded,
going over the notes time and again on my violon-
cello, I became convinced that I had heard that
wild tune before, and am now able to say where
and when."

"Wonderful, perfectly wonderful if you can,
Chapman," cried the thoroughly interested Chief.

"What next?" O'Brien asked, impatient at the
calmness of the man on the opposite side of the
desk.

"To-day I saw the finger that the fragment of
nail found in the girl's neck would fit, and one
finger-nail had been broken and was gone," con-
tinued Chapman, by great effort restraining the
evidence of the exultation that he felt.

"Where, man, where? And whose was the
hand?" gasped O'Brien.

"Wait a moment! Upon reflection I realized
that the only part of a man's apparel likely to give
way in a desperate struggle would be a coat
pocket ; that the hand of the girl had grasped the
edge of the pocket and in so doing had closed
upon an old envelope in the pocket, which was
torn and remained in her hand with a couple of

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BLOOD WILL TELL

threads from the cloth of the coat when the mur-
derer finally wrenched the coat out of her life-
less fingers."

"Quite likely/' exclaimed the Chief impa-
tiently.

"But hurry along, man," urged the officer.

"This afternoon I examined under the most
powerful microscope procurable in Boston the
threads that your assistant has in safe keeping. I
recognized the color and material of which those
threads are made. I know the coat whence the
threads came, and the owner of the coat," de-
clared Chapman emphatically.

"His name," almost yelled the astonished de-
tective.

"David Chapman," was the cool and triumph-
ant reply.

The Chief glared at the exultant amateur with
wonder, in which a doubt of the man's sanity
was mingled.

"It is the coat of the suit I wore while 'slum-
ming' in my investigations concerning the negro
race. It has hung in my private closet in the
office until some time within the last two months,

309

BLOOD WILL TELL

when it was abstracted by some one having keys
to the private offices of J. Dunlap. Mr. Dunlap,
Walter Burton and I alone possess such keys.
Burton, like me, is tall and slim, the suit will fit
him ; Burton is of the negro race ; I heard Burton
play the tune of which the few notes are part
when I went to his house on the only occasion
that I ever visited the 'Eyrie;' Burtor-'s shoes —
I tried an old one to-day which was left at the
office some months ago — exactly fit the tracks
left by the murderer. Burton having no suit
that he could wear as a disguise while rambling
the streets in search of adventure, found and ap-
propriated my old 'slumming' suit. You will find
that suit, blood-stained, the coat pocket torn, now
hidden somewhere in the 'Eyrie' if it be not de-
stroyed. Walter Burton is guilty of the Malloy
assault and murder !" Chapman had risen from
his chair, his face was aflame with vindictiveness
and passion, his small eyes blazing with satisfied
hatred as he almost yelled, in his excitement, the
denunciation of Burton.

"Great God ! man, it can't be," gasped the Chief
of Detectives, saying as he regained his breath,

310

BLOOD WILL TELL

"Burton and the Dunlaps are not people to
make mistakes with in such a horrible case as
this."

"Burton has withdrawn from our firm. He
has provided himself with a large sum of cur-
rency. He is leaving the country. Tomorrow
night he dines with Mr. Dunlap to complete the
arrangements for the severance of his relations
with the house of J. Dunlap. Captain Jack Dun-
lap will dine with Mr. Dunlap on that occasion,
and I shall be there to draw up any papers re-
quired. The coast will be clear at the 'Eyrie;'
go there upon the pretext of arresting Victor,
Burton's valet, on the charge of larceny; search
thoroughly the premises; if you find the gar-
ments, and the coat is in the condition I describe,
come at once to the Dunlap mansion and arrest
the murderer, or it will be too late, the bird will
have flown." The veins in Chapman's brow and
neck were fairly bursting through the skin, so
intense were the passion and vehemence of the
man who, straining forward, shouted out direc-
tions to the detective.

O'Brien sat for several minutes in silence, bur-

BLOOD WILL TELL

ied in deep meditation, glancing ever and anon
at Chapman, who, chafing with impatience, fairly
danced before the desk.. The official arose and,
walking to the window, stood for some time gaz-
ing out upon the lighted street below. Suddenly
he turned and came back to Chapman, whom he
held by the lapel of the coat, while he said,

"Chapman, I know that you hate Burton. I
know also of your fidelity to the Dunlaps. You
would never- have told this to me, even as much
as you hate Burton, if it were not true. This dis-
closure and disgrace, if it be as you suspect, will
wound those dear to you."

This phase of the situation had evidently not
occurred to David Chapman in his zeal for satis-
faction to his all-consuming hatred of Burton.
He dropped his eyes, nervously clasped and un-
clasped his hands, while his face paled as he
faltered out,

"Well — maybe you had best not act upon my
suggestions ; I may be all wrong."

"There, Mr. Chapman, is where I can't agree
with you. I am a sworn officer of this common-
wealth, and, by heavens ! I would arrest the

312

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governor of the state if I knew it to be my duty.
Not all the money of the Dunlaps or in the whole
of Massachusetts could prevent me from laying
my hand on Walter Burton and placing him un-
der arrest for the murder of the Malloy girl, if
I find the clothing you mention in the condition
you describe. I shall wait to make the search at
the 'Eyrie' until tomorrow night, that if there be
a mistake it shall not be an irreparable one," said
the conscientious Chief of Detectives sternly, in
a determined tone of voice.

"But I may be mistaken," urged the agitated
amateur detective.

"You have convinced me that there are grounds
for your statements; I know them now, and,
knowing them, by my oath of office, must take
action," quietly replied O'Brien.

"Then promise to keep my connection with the
case a secret, except what may be required of me
■as a witness subpoenaed to appear and testify,"
cried the now remorseful Chapman.

"That I will, and readily too, as it is but a
small favor in comparison to the great aid you
have been to our department, and is not in con-

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flict with my duty. I shall also collect and hand
over to you all of the reward."

"Never mind the reward ; keep it for your pen-
sion fund," replied the regretful Superintendent
of J. Dunlap, who had played detective once too
often and too well for his own peace of mind.

3X4

XIX

NEVER had there assembled beneath the
roof of the Dunlap mansion since the
old house was constructed, a company
so entirely uncomfortable as that around the table
in the library on the night that Walter Burton
dined for the last time with Mr. Dunlap.

John Dunlap's mind was filled with doubts
concerning what was his duty with regard to
Burton, having due consideration for the memory
of his deceased brother, and as to what would
have been the wish of that beloved brother under
existing circumstances. Recognizing, as John
Dunlap did, the influence that his personal antip-
athy for Burton had upon his conduct, he was
nervous and uncomfortable.

Burton felt the restraint imposed upon him irk-
some, even for the time of this brief and1 final
visit to the home where his best emotions had
been aroused, and the purest delights of his arti-

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ficial existence enjoyed. He was anxious to be
gone, to be free, to forget, and was impatient of
delay.

Jack Dunlap, pale and somewhat thin, still
carrying his arm bound to his breast, felt the
weight of the responsibility resting upon him in
releasing Lucy's husband from a promise that
for months had held him near her should the
husband's presence be required at any moment,
and was correspondingly silent and meditative.

Nervous, expectant and fearful, David Chap-
man sat only half attentive to what was said or
done around him. His ears were strained to
catch the first sound that announced the coming
of the visitors which he now dreaded.

"The terms of the settlement of my interest in
your house, Mr. Dunlap, are entirely too liberal
to me, and I only accept them because of my
anxiety to be freed from the cares of business at
the earliest possible moment, and am unwilling
to await the report of examining accountants,"
said Walter Burton as he glanced over the paper
submitted to him by Chapman.

"Do you expect to leave the city at once?"

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BLOOD WILL TELL

asked Mr. Dunlap in a hesitating, doubtful voice.

"Yes, I will make a tour through the Southern
States, probably go to California and may return
and take a trip to Europe. I have promised Cap-
tain Dunlap to keep your house informed of my
movements and address at all times, and shall
immediately respond, by promptly returning, if
my presence in Boston be called for," replied
Burton.

"I confess, Burton, that my mind is not free
from doubt as to the propriety of allowing you
to withdraw from our house. I should like to
act as my brother James would have done. His
wishes are as binding upon me now as when he
lived/' said Mr. Dunlap in a low and troubled
voice.

"It is needless to rehearse the painful story of
the last few months, Mr. Dunlap. Had your
•brother lived he must have perceived the total
vanity of some of his most cherished wishes re-
garding the union of his granddaughter and my-
self. Heirs to his name and estate must be im-
possible from that union under the unalterable
conditions. My wife's dementia and her irra-

317

BLOOD WILL TELL

tional aversion to my presence would have influ-
enced him as it does you and me, and — I might
as well say it — I am aware of the fact and realize
the naturalness of the sentiment. I am persona
non grata here."

There was a tinge of bitterness in the closing
sentence and Burton accompanied it with a de-
fiant manner that evinced much concealed resent-
ment.

As Burton ceased speaking, the eyes of the
four men sitting at the table turned to the door,
hearing it open. The footman who had opened
it had hardly crossed the threshold when he was
pushed aside by the firm hand of Chief of De-
tectives O'Brien, who, in full uniform, followed
by a man in citizens' dress carrying a bundle un-
der his arm, entered the room.

Mr. Dunlap hurriedly arose and advancing
with outstretched hand exclaimed,

"Why! Chief, this is an unexpected pleas-
ure^— "

"Mr. Dunlap, stop a moment." There was a
look in the official's eyes that froze Mr. Dunlap's
welcome on his lips and nailed him to the spot on
318

BLOOD WILL TELL

which he stood. Chapman glanced at Burton,
on whom O'Brien's gaze was fastened. Burton
had risen and stood trembling like an aspen leaf
without a single shade of color left in cheeks or
lips. Jack Dunlap's face flushed somewhat in-
dignantly as he rose and walked forward to the
side of his kinsman.

"With all due regard for that high respect I
entertain for you, Mr. Dunlap, it has become my
painful duty to enter your house tonight in my
official capacity and arrest one accused of the most
serious crime known to the law." While O'Brien
was speaking he moved toward the table, never
removing his eyes from Burton.

"What do you mean, sir?" cried Jack in a
wrathful voice, interposing himself between
O'Brien and the table.

"Stand aside, Captain Dunlap !" said the Chief
sternly. Quickly stepping to Burton's side and
placing his hand on his shoulder he said,

"Walter Burton, I arrest you in trie name of
the Commonwealth, on the charge of murder."

With a movement too quick even for a glance
to catch, the Chief jerked Burton's hands togeth-

319

BLOOD WILL TELL

er and1 snapped a pair of handcuffs on the wrists
of the rapidly collapsing man.

The eyes of all present were fixed, in stupified
amazement, on O'Brien and Burton, and had not
seen what stood in the open doorway until a low
moan caused Jack to turn his head. He saw
then the figure of Lucy slowly sinking to the
floor.

Lucy in her wanderings about the house was
passing through the hall when the uniformed
officer entered. Attracted by the unusual spec-
tacle of a man in a blue coat ornamented with
•brass buttons, she had followed the policeman
and overheard all that he had said, and seen
what he had done.

"I will furnish bail in any amount, O'Brien,"
exclaimed Mr. Dunlap, staying the two officers
by stepping before them as they almost carried
Burton, unable to walk, from the room.

"Please stand aside, Mr. Dunlap," said the
Chief kindly.

"Don't make it harder than it is now for me
to do my duty," and gently pushing the old gen-
tleman aside, O'Brien and his assistant bore Bur-

320

BLOOD WILL TELL

ton from the library and the Dunlap mansion.

"Help me, quick! Lucy has fainted!" called
Jack, who, crippled as he was, could not raise
the unconscious wife of Burton.

When Mr. Dunlap reached Jack's bending fig-
ure, Lucy opened her eyes, gazed about wildly
for an instant, gasped for breath as if suffocat-
ing, and suddenly sprang unassisted to her feet,
as if shot upward by some hidden mechanism.

"Walter! My husband! Where is he? Where
is grandfather? What has happened)?" she cried
out, in a confused way, as one just aroused from
a sound sleep.

Jack and Mr. Dunlap stared at her for a mo-
ment in wonderment ; then something in her eyes
gave them the gladsome tidings, in this their
'hour of greatest trouble, that reason had resumed
its sway over loved Lucy's mind ; she was restored
to sanity. The shock had been to her heart and
'restored her senses, as a similar shock had de-
prived her of them. The experts had predicted
correctly.

"Walter is in trouble, danger. I heard that

policeman say murder ! Save my husband, Jack !

Uncle John! Where is my grandfather?"

321

BLOOD WILL TELL

Jack finally gathered enough of his scattered
composure to reply somehow to the excited young
woman. He said all that he dared say so soon
after the return of reason to her distracted head.
"Be calm, Cousin Lucy ! Your grandfather is
absent from the city. You have been ill. Your
Uncle John and I will do all in our power to aid
Walter if he be in danger."

She turned her eyes toward her Uncle John
and regarded him steadily for the space of a min-
ute, and then she whirled about and faced Jack,
crying out in clear and ringing tones,

"I will not trust Uncle John. He dislikes
Walter and always has, but you ! you, Jack Dun-
lap, I trust next to my God and my good grand-
father. Will you promise to aid Walter ?"

"I promise, Lucy. Now be calm," said Jack
gently.

There was no madness now in Lucy's bright,
gleaming, hazel eyes ; womanly anxiety as a wife
was superb in its earnestness. She was grand,
sublime as with the majestic grace of a queen
of tragedy she swept close to her cousin, then
raising herself to her greatest height, with her
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BLOOD WILL TELL

hand extended upward, pointing to heaven, she
commanded as a sovereign might have done.

"Swear to me, Jack Dunlap, by God above us
and your sacred honor, that you will stop at
nothing in the effort to save my husband.
Swear!"

"I swear," said the sailor simply as he raised
his hand.

The woman's manner, speech, and the scene
did not seem strange to those who stood about
her. She was suddenly aroused to reason to find
the object of her tenderest love in direst danger;
her stay, prop and reliance, her grandfather, un-
accountably absent. In that trying stress of cir-
cumstances, the intensity of the feeling within
her wrought-up soul found expression in exces-
sive demand's and exaggerated attitudes.

"Now go! my Jack; hurry after Walter and
help him," she urged as with nervous hands she
pushed him toward the door.

Next morning, when the newspapers made the
startling announcement that a member of the
firm of J. Dunlap, Boston's oldest and wealthiest
business house, had been arrested on the charge

323

BLOOD WILL TELL

of that nameless crime and the murder of the
Malloy girl, the entire city was stunned by the
intelligence.

A crowd quickly gathered around the city jail.
Threatful mutterings were heard as the multi-
tude increased in numbers about the prison. When
Malloy came and his neighbors clustered about
the infuriated father of the outraged victim, that
slow and slumbering wrath that lies beneath the
calm, deceptive surface of the New England
character began to make itself evident. "Tear
down the gates!" "Lynch the fiend," and such
expressions were heard among the men, momen-
tarily growing louder, as the cool exterior of the
Northern nature gave away.

Soon many seafaring men were seen moving
among the most excited of the mob, saying as
they passed from one group to another, "It's not
true! You know the Dunlaps too well !" "Keep
quiet, it's a lie !" "Dunlap offered a reward for
the arrest of the villain ; it can't be as the papers
say!"

One sailor-man, who carried a crippled arm,
mounted a box and made a speech, telling the

324

BLOOD WILL TELL

people there must be a mistake and begging them
to be quiet. When he said that his name was
Dunlap, the seafaring men began to cheer for
"Skipper Jack," and the mob joined in. Seeing
one of the Dunlap name so calm, honest and
brave in their very midst, the mob began to
doubt, and shaking their heads the people moved
gradually away and dispersed, persuaded that
naught connected with the worthy Dunlap name
could cause such foul wrong and disgrace to the
Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

The best legal talent of New England was re-
tained that day for the defense of Burton. When
they had examined the circumstantial evidence
against Burton they frankly told Jack Dunlap
that an alibi, positively established, alone could
save the accused man.

The unselfish sailor sought the seclusion of his
cabin on board his ship, that lay at anchor in the
harbor, there to ponder over the tenible infor-
mation given him by the leading lawyers of Bos-
ton.

Uncomplainingly the man had resigned his
hope of the greatest joy that could come to his

325

BLOOD WILL TELL

strong, unselfish soul — Lucy's love. For the sake
of her whom he loved he had concealed his suf-
fering. He had smothered the sorrow that well
nigh wrenched the heart out of his bosom, that
he might minister to her in the hour of her men-
tal affliction. He had shed his blood in shielding
with his breast the man whom she had selected
in his stead. All this he had done as ungrudg-
ingly and gladly as he had tended her slightest
bidding when as wee maid she had ruled him.

Love demanded of this great heart the final
and culminating sacrifice. Could he, would he
offer up his honor on the altar of his love?

To this knight by right of nature, honor and
truth were dearer far than his blood or his life.
Would he surrender the one prize he cherished
highest for his hopeless love's sake?

"I will swear that you were aboard my ship
with me every hour of the night on which the
crime of which you stand accused was commit-
ted. An absolute alibi alone can save you. May
God forgive you! May God forgive me! and
may the people of Massachusetts pardon

Perjured Jack Bitmap."

326

BLOOD WILL TELL

Such was the letter sent by the sailor, by
well paid and trusty hand, to the successful suitor
for Lucy's hand, now closely mewed within the
prison walls of Boston's strongest jail.

Could any man's love be greater than the love
of him who sent that letter?

327

THE court room was crowded, not only
by the casual visitors to such places,
who are ever in search of satisfaction to
their morbid. curiosity, but also by the most fash-
ionable of Boston's elite society.

The preliminary examination in the case of the
Commonwealth vs. Walter Burton was on the
docket for hearing that day.

Nearly a month had elapsed since the arrest;
all that an unlimited amount of money could ac-
complish had been done to ameliorate the terrible
position of the prisoner. More than a million
dollars was offered in bail for the accused, and
it was hoped that by a preliminary examination
such a strong probability of the establishment of
an alibi could be presented, that the Court would
make an order permitting the acceptance of bail
for the appearance of the accused after the re-
port of the Grand Jury.

328

BLOOD WILL TELL

Neither old John Dunlap nor Burton's wife
was present. Jack had insisted that they must
not be in the court-room when he was called upon
to give his evidence.

Lieutenant Thomas Maxon, bronzed, stalwart,
and serious, sat beside his friend Jack Dunlap
among the witnesses for the defense.

With a face of ghastly white, Jack Dunlap, his
arm still in a sling, stared straight before him,
heedless of the stir and flutter around him while
the audience was waiting the appearance of the
judge and the accused.

There was a look of desperate resolve and defi-
ance on Burton's face as he entered the court-
room between two officers and took his seat at
the counsel table behind the lawyers who ap-
peared for the defense.

The prosecuting attorney proceeded, when the
case was called, to present the case for the Com-
monwealth with the coldness and emotionless
precision that marks the movements of an expert
surgeon as he digs and cuts among the vitals of a
subject on the operating table.

Chapman was much embarrassed and very ner-

329

BLOOD TILL TELL

• jus on the witness stand: his testimony was

fairly dragged from his livid, unwilling lips : he
interjected every doubt and possible suspicion
that might weigh against his evidence and weak-
en the case :: the Commonwealth. When he left
the stand he staggered like one intoxicated as
he walked back to his seat among the witnesses.

When the case of the people was closed, the
leading counsel for the defense, one most [earned
in the law. arose and, making a few well-chosen
introductory remarks, turned to a hailir: and said.

"Call Captain John Durdap."

For the first time in his life Tack Durdap scent-
ed afraid to look men in the eyes. Neither glanc-
ing right nor left, he strode with a determined
air to the witness stand and took itis seat. His
face wore the hue of death. His jaws were so
clamped together that they seemed bo crush his
teeth between them.

They asked his name, age and occupation and
then his whereabout on the night of the crime
for which the prisoner stood accus

The witness made answer brief. each of

these questions without removing his gaze From

33c

BLOOD WILL TELL

the wall above the heads of the audience, and
seemed collecting himself for an ordeal yet to
come.

"Who was with you on board your ship, the
'Adams,' that night?" was the next question of
the lawyer for the defense.

"Stop! Do not answer, Jack!" came in clear,
commanding' tones from the mouth of the pris-
oner as he sprang to his feet. His lawyers about
him tried to pull him down into his chair, but he
struggled and shook himself free and stood where
all could see him.

Burton looked around him defiantly at the as-
sembled crowd in the court-room, holding up his
hand with palm turned toward Jack, in protest
against his giving answer to the last question.
Then, throwing back his head, he said in a loud
and steady voice,

"I must and do protest against this further
sacrifice in my behalf on the part of that noble,
generous, grand man on the stand. Already he has
far exceeded the belief of the most credulous in
sacrificing himself for those whom he loves. That
I may prevent this last and grandest ofiering, the

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BLOOD WILL TELL

honor of that brave man, I tell you all that I am
guilty of the crime as charged, and further, I
hurl into your teeth the fact that by your accursed
affectation of social equality between the White
and Negro races, which can never exist, you are
responsible in part for my crime, and you are
wholly answerable for much agony to the most
innocent and blameless of mortals on earth.
Your canting, maudlin, sentimental cry of social
intercourse between the races has caused wrong,
suffering, sorrow, crime, and now causes my
death."

As Burton ceased speaking he swiftly threw a
powder between his lips and quickly swallowed it.

The audience, judge, lawyers, bailiffs, all sat
still, chained in a trance of astonishment as the
accused man uttered this unexpected phillipic
against a sometime tradition of New England,
and likewise pronounced his guilt by this open
and voluntary confession.

None seemed to realize that the prisoner's
speech was also his valedictory to life, until they
saw him reel, and, ere the nearest man could reach
him, fall, face downward, upon the court-room
floor, dead.

332

BLOOD WILL TELL

Like the last ray of the setting sun, Burton's
expiring speech and deed had been the parting
gleam of the nobility begotten by the blood of the
superior race within his veins, and reflected on
the bright surface of the civilization and culture
of the white race. The predominance of animal-
ism in the negro nature precludes the possibility
of suicide in even the extremest cases of con-
scious debasement. Suicide is almost unknown
among the negro race.

"Chapman found dead at his desk in the of-
fice ! My God ! What more must I bear in my
old age! Oh! God, have mercy upon an old
man !"

Poor old John Dunlap fell upon Jack's shoul-
der and wept from very weakness and misery,
and so the sailor supported and 'held him until the
paroxysm of wretchedness had passed ; then he
gently led the broken old gentleman to the easiest
chair in the parlor of the Dunlap house and
begged him to sit down and compose his over-
wrought feelings.

"You say, Jack, that the porter found 'him

333

BLOOD WILL TELL

seated at his desk this morning; that he thought
he was sleeping, as my faithful employee's head
rested on his arms, and that it was only when he
touched him and noticed how cold he was that he
realized that Chapman was dead. My God !
How awful !" groaned the distressed speaker.

"Yes, sir, and wnen the head clerks of the dif-
ferent departments arrived and raised him they
saw lying on his desk before him ready for pub-
lication the notice of the closing of the business
career of the house of J. Dunlap, and they took
from the dead man's stiffened fingers the long
record of the firm to which he clung even in
death."

"I saw the poor fellow's face grow pale and
his features twitch as if in pain when I told him
that the career of our 'house was ended. I urged
him to rest here until he was better, but he only
shook his head and hurried from my presence."

Mr. Dunlap spoke sadly and after a pause of
several minutes, during which an expression of
deepest melancholy settled over his countenance,
he continued sorrowfully,

"Poor David Chapman, good and faithful ser-

334

BLOOD WILL TELL

vant! He loved the old house of 'J. Dunlap'
with all of his soul, and when he knew that the
end had come, it broke that intense heart of his."

"Why did you determine, sir, to take the old
sign down, and close those doors that for two
hundred years have stood open every day except
holidays?" asked Jack, full of sympathy for
the grief-stricken kinsman 'beside him.

"I cannot bear the sight of my loved boyhood's
home, dear old Boston, at present. It has been
the scene of so much agony and horror for me
within the past year that I must, for my own
sake, get away from the agonizing associations
all about me here. Lucy absolutely must be taken
away now that her mind is restored to its normal
condition, or she will surely go mad from weep-
ing and grieving. As soon as she is able to travel
we shall go to Europe to be absent months, —
years. I am an old man, maybe I shall never see
Boston again." The old man stopped to choke
back a sob and then said,

"It is hard, very hard, on me that I should be
obliged to close the house my brother James loved
so well, and that has been a glory to the Dunlap

335

BLOOD WILL TELL

name for two centuries. It may break my heart,
too, lad."

The white head sunk on the heaving chest and
an audible sob now shook the bended frame.
Jack watched his good godfather with manly
tears filling his honest eyes. Then, laying his
hand softly on the old man's arm, he said,

"Cousin John, would you feel less wretched if
I promised to leave the sea, and do my best to
keep the old sign, 'J. Dunlap/ in its place in the
crooked street where it has hung for two hun-
dred years ?"

John Dunlap raised his head almost as soon as
his namesake began to speak, and when Jaxk had
finished he had him around the neck and was
hugging the sturdy sailor, crying all the time,

"God bless you, boy! Will you do that for
your old kinsman? Will you, lad?" And then
wringing Jack's hand he cried,

"A young J. Dunlap succeeds the old ; all the
ships, trade and the capital remain as before!
You and Lucy are sole heirs to everything ! The
chief clerks will shout for joy to know that the
house still goes on ; they will help you faithfully

336

3f UCY I have always loved you."

Page 340

BLOOD WILL TELL

for love of my brother James and me. And oh !
Jack, when I am far away it will make my heart
beat easier to know that the Dunlap red ball
barred with black still floats upon the ocean, and
that the old sign is still here; tfrat I was not the
one of my long line to take it from its place."

337

BLOOD WILL TELL

EPILOGUE.

Five times has Boston Common, old, honored
in history's story, slept beneath its snowy coun-
terpane, all damaskeened by winter sunbeam's
glory.

Five times have brooks in Yankee vales burst
icy chains to flee, with gladsome shouts of merri-
ment, on joyous journey to the sea.

Five times have Massachusetts hills and dales
been garbed in cloak of emerald, embroidered
wide in gay designs of daffodils and daisies since
the grand old Commonwealth was shocked by
the commission of a horrid crime by one called
Burton.

An old sign still swings before an even older
building, in one of Boston's most crooked streets.
"J- Dunlap, Shipping and Banking," is what
the passersby may read on the old sign.

Sometimes an old man is seen to enter the
building above the door of which is suspended
this sign ; he is much bent and wnite of hair, but

338

BLOOD WILL TELL

sturdy still, despite some four-score years. All
men of Boston accord great respect to this hand-
some old gentleman.

The man who is head and manager of all the
business done within the old building where that
sign is seen, has the tanned and rugged look of
one who had long gazed upon the bright surface
of the sea. While he is only seen in landsmen's
dress, it seems that clothing of a nautical cut
would best befit his stalwart figure.

This head man at J. Dunlap's office is cavalier-
in-chief to three old ladies, with whom he often
is seen driving in Boston's beautiful suburbs;
one of these white-haired old dames he addresses
as "Mother," another as "Mrs. Church," and the
most withered one of the three he calls "Miss
Arabella."

He has been seen, too, with a sweet, sad, yet
very lovely young woman in whose glorious
crown of gold-brown hair silver silken threads
run in and out.

A big, jovial naval man periodically drives up
before the old sign and shouting out, "Jack, come
here and see the latest !" exhibits a baby to the

339

BLOOD WILL TELL

sailor-looking manager. The last time he roared
in greatest glee, "It's a girl, named Bessie, for
her mother."

Kind harvest moon, send forth your tenderest
glances, that fall betwixt the tall elm's branches
on that sad, sweet face that lies so restfully
against a sailor's loyal bosom.

"Lucy, I have always loved you !" Jack Dun-
lap kissed his "Little Princess" and put his strong
arms around her.

Everlasting time, catch up those words, and
bear them on forever, as motto of most faithful
lover.

An old man, standing at a window in the Dun-
lap mansion, watched the man and woman in the
moonlight between the elm trees, and what he
witnessed seemed to bring a great joy to his good,
kind heart, for he reverently raised his eyes to
heaven and said,

"My God, I thank Thee !"

340

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