M glad you got back." Rayburn's sister, Mrs. Lampson, said to him at breakfast the morning following his return on the midnight train. "We are having a glorious meeting at our church."
"Oh, is that so?" said the young man, sipping1 his coffee. "Who is conducting it?"
"Brother Maynell," answered Mrs. Lampson, enthusiastically, a tinge2 of color in her wan3, thin face. "He's a travelling evangelist, who has been conducting revivals4 all over the South. It is really remarkable5 the interest he has stirred up. We are holding prayer-meetings morning and afternoon, though only the ladies meet in the afternoon. I conducted the meeting yesterday."
"Oh no; did you, really? Why, sis—"
"Don't begin to poke6 fun at me," said Mrs. Lamp-son. "I know I didn't do as well as some of the others, but I did the best I could, because I felt it was my duty."
"I was not going to make fun," said Miller7, soothingly8; "but it seems mighty9 strange to think of you standing10 up before all the rest, and—"
"It was not such a very hard thing to do," said the lady, who was older than her brother by ten years. She had gray hairs at her temples, and looked generally as if she needed out-door exercise and some diversion to draw her out of herself.
Rayburn helped himself to the deliciously browned, fried chicken, in its bed of cream gravy11, and a hot puffy biscuit.
"And how does Mr. Lapsley, the regular preacher, like this innovation?" he questioned. "I reckon you all pay the new man a fee for stirring things up?"
"Yes; we agreed to give him two hundred dollars, half of which goes to an orphan12 asylum13 he is building. Oh, I don't think brother Lapsley minds much, but of course it must affect him a little to see the great interest brother Maynell has roused, and I suppose some are mean enough to think he could have done the same, if he had tried."
"No, it's clearly a case of a new broom," smiled Rayburn, buttering his biscuit. "Old Lap might get up there and groan14 and whine15 for a week and not touch a mourner with a ten-foot pole. The other chap knows his business, and part of his business is not to stay long enough to wear out his pet phrases or exhaust his rockets. I'm sorry for Lapsley; he's paid a regular salary, and is not good for any other sort of work, and this shows him up unfairly. In the long run, I believe he 'll get as many into the church as the other man, and they will be more apt to stick. Sister, that's the trouble with these tin-pan revivals. The biggest converts backslide. I reckon you are working over old material now."
Mrs. Lampson frowned and her lip stiffened16.
"I don't like your tone in speaking of such things," she said. "Indeed, Rayburn, I have been deeply mortified17 in the last week by some remarks that have been made about you. I didn't intend to mention them, but you make me do it."
"Oh, I knew they wouldn't let me rest," said Miller; "they never do in their annual shake-ups."
"Brother, you are looked on by nearly all religious workers in town as a dangerous young man—I mean dangerous to the boys who are just growing up, because they all regard you as a sort of standard to shape their conduct by. They see you going to balls and dances and playing cards, and they think it is smart and will not be interested in our meetings. They see that you live and seem to prosper18 under it, and they follow in your footsteps. I am afraid you don't realize the awful example you are setting. Brother May-nell has heard of you and asked me about you the other day. Some people think you have been in Atlanta all this time to avoid the meeting."
"I didn't know it was going on," said Miller, testily19. "I assure you I never run from a thing like that. The best thing to do is to add fuel to the fire—it burns out quicker."
"Well, you will go out to meeting, won't you?" insisted the sweet-voiced woman. "You won't have them all thinking you have no respect for the religion of our father and mother—will you?"
Rayburn squirmed under this close fire.
"I shall go occasionally when there is preaching," he said, reluctantly. "I would be out of place at one of the—the knock-down and drag-out shouting-bees." Then, seeing her look of horror at the words which had unthoughtedly glided20 from his lips, he strove to make amends21. "Oh, sister, do—do be reasonable, and look at it from my point of view. I don't believe that's the way to serve God or beautify the world. I believe in being happy in one's own way, just so that you don't tread on the rights of other people."
"But," said Mrs. Lampson, her eyes flashing, "you are treading on the rights of others. They are trying to save the souls of the rising generation in the community, and you and your social set use your influence in the other direction."
"But what about the rights of my social set, if you want to call it by that name?" Miller retorted, warmly. "We have the right to enjoy ourselves in our way, just as you have in yours. We don't interfere—we never ask you to close up shop so we can have a dance or a picnic, but you do. If we dare give a party while some revivalist is filling his pockets in town the revivalist jumps on us publicly and holds us up as examples of headlong plungers into fiery22 ruin. There is not a bit of justice or human liberty in that, and you 'll never reach a certain element till you quit such a course. Last year one of the preachers in this town declared in the pulpit that a girl could not be pure and dance a round dance. It raised the very devil in the hearts of the young men, who knew he was a dirty liar23, and they got up as many dances out of spite as they possibly could. In fact, some of them came near knocking the preacher down on the street. I am a conservative sort of fellow, but I secretly wished that somebody would slug that man in the jaw24."
"I'm really afraid you are worse than ever," sighed Mrs. Lampson. "I don't know what to do with you." She laughed good-naturedly as she rose and stood behind his chair, touching25 his head tenderly. "It really does make me rather mad," she confessed, "to hear them making you out such a bad stripe when I know what a wonderful man you really are for your age. I really believe some of them are jealous of your success and standing, but I do want you to be more religious." When Miller reached his office about ten o' clock and had opened the door he noticed that Craig's bank on the corner across the street was still closed. It was an unusual occurrence at that hour and it riveted26 Miller's attention. Few people were on the street, and none of them seemed to have noticed it. The church-bell in the next block was ringing for the revivalist's prayer-meeting, and Miller saw the merchants and lawyers hurrying by on their way to worship. Miller stood in his front door and bowed to them as they passed. Trabue hustled27 out of his office, pulling the door to with a jerk.
"Prayer-meeting?" he asked, glancing at Miller.
"No, not to-day," answered Miller; "got some writing to do."
"That preacher's a hummer," said the old lawyer. "I've never seen his equal. He'd 'a' made a bang-up criminal lawyer. Why, they say old Joe Murphy's converted—got out of his bed at midnight and went to Tim Slocum's house to get 'im to pray for 'im. He's denied thar was a God all his life till now. I say a preacher's worth two hundred to a town if it can do that sort of work."
"He's certainly worth it to Slocum," said Miller, with a smile. "If I'd been denying there was a God as long as he has, I'd pay more than that to get rid of the habit. Slocum's able, and I think he ought to foot that preacher's bill."
"You are a tough customer, Miller," said Trabue, with a knowing laugh. "You'd better look out—May-nell's got an eye on you. He 'll call out yore name some o' these days, an' ask us to pray fer you."
"I was just wondering if there's anything wrong with Craig," said Miller. "I see his door's not open."
"Oh, I reckon not," said the old lawyer. "He's been taking part in the meeting. He may have overslept."
There was a grocery-store near Miller's office, and the proprietor28 came out on the sidewalk and joined the two men. His name was Barnett. He was a powerful man, who stood six feet five in his boots; he wore no coat, and his suspenders were soiled and knotted.
"I see you-uns is watchin' Craig's door," he said. "I've had my eye on it ever since breakfast. I hardly know what to make of it. I went thar to buy some New York exchange to pay for a bill o' flour, but he wouldn't let me in. I know he's thar, for I seed 'im go in about an hour ago. I mighty nigh shook the door off'n the hinges. His clerk, that Western fellow, Win-ship, has gone off to visit his folks, an' I reckon maybe Craig's got all the book-keepin' to do."
"Well, he oughtn't to keep his doors closed at this time of day," remarked Miller. "A man who has other people's money in his charge can' t be too careful."
"He's got some o' mine," said the grocer, "and Mary Ann Tarpley, my wife's sister, put two hundred thar day before yesterday. Oh, I reckon nothin' s wrong, though I do remember I heerd somebody say Craig bought cotton futures29 an' sometimes got skeerd up a little about meetin' his obligations."
"I have never heard that," said Rayburn Miller, raising his brows.
"Well, I have, an' I've heerd the same o' Winship," said the grocer, "but I never let it go no furder. I ain't no hand to circulate ill reports agin a good member of the church."
Miller bit his lip and an unpleasant thrill passed over him as Trabue walked on. "Twenty-five thousand," he thought, "is no small amount. It would tempt30 five men out of ten if they were inclined to go wrong, and were in a tight."
The grocer was looking at him steadily31.
"You bank thar, don't you?" he asked.
Miller nodded: "But I happen to have no money there right now. I made a deposit at the other bank yesterday."
"Suspicious, heigh? Now jest a little, wasn't you?" The grocer now spoke32 with undisguised uneasiness.
"Not at all," replied the lawyer. "I was doing some business for the other bank, and felt that I ought to favor them by my cash deposits."
"You don't think thar's anything the matter, do you?" asked the grocer, his face still hardening.
"I think Craig is acting33 queerly—very queerly for a banker," was Miller's slow reply. "He has always been most particular to open up early and—"
"Hello," cried out a cheery voice, that of the middle-aged34 proprietor of the Darley Flouring Mills, emerging from Barnett's store. "I see you fellows have your eye on Craig's front. If he was a drinking man we might suspicion he'd been on a tear last night, wouldn't we?"
"It looks damned shaky to me," retorted the grocer, growing more excited. "I'm goin' over there an' try that door again. A man 'at has my money can't attract the attention Craig has an' me say nothin'."
The miller pulled his little turf of gray beard and winked35 at Rayburn.
"You been scarin' Barnett," he said, with a tentative inflection. "He's easily rattled36. By-the-way, now that I think of it, it does seem to me I heard some of the Methodists talkin' about reproving Craig an' Winship for speculatin' in grain and cotton. I know they've been dabblin' in it, for Craig always got my market reports. He's been dealin' with a bucket-shop in Atlanta."
"I'm going over there," said Miller, abruptly37, and he hurried across in the wake of the big grocer. The miller followed him. On the other side of the street several people were curiously38 watching the bank door, and when Barnett went to it and grasped the handle and began to shake it vigorously they crossed over to him.
"What's wrong?" said a dealer39 in fruits, a short, thick-set man with a florid face; but Barnett's only reply was another furious shaking of the door.
"Why, man, what's got into you?" protested the fruit-dealer, in a rising tone of astonishment40. "Do you intend to break that door down?"
"I will if that damned skunk41 don't open it an' give me my money," said Barnett, who was now red in the face and almost foaming42 at the mouth. "He's back in thar, an' he knows it's past openin' time. By gum! I know more 'n I'm goin' to tell right now."
This was followed by another rattling43 of the door, and the grocer's enormous weight, like a battering-ram, was thrown against the heavy walnut44 shutter45.
"Open up, I say—open up in thar!" yelled the grocer, in a voice hoarse46 with passion and suspense47.
A dozen men were now grouped around the doorway48. Barnett released the handle and stood facing them.
"Somethin' s rotten in Denmark," he panted. "Believe me or not, fellows, I know a thing or two. This bank's in a bad fix."
A thrill of horror shot through Miller. The words had the ring of conviction. Alan Bishop49's money was in bad hands if it was there at all. Suddenly he saw a white, trembling hand fumbling50 with the lower part of the close-drawn51 window-shade, as if some one were about to raise it; but the shade remained down, the interior still obscured. It struck Miller as being a sudden impulse, defeated by fear of violence. There was a pause. Then the storm broke again. About fifty men had assembled, all wild to know what was wrong. Miller elbowed his way to the door and stood on the step, slightly raised above the others, Barnett by his side. "Let me speak to him," he said, pacifically. Barnett yielded doggedly52, and Rayburn put his lips to the crack between the two folding-doors.
"Mr. Craig!" he called out—"Mr. Craig!"
There was no reply, but Rayburn heard the rustling53 of paper on the inside near the crack against which his ear was pressed, and then the edge of a sheet of writing-paper was slowly shoved through. Rayburn grasped it, lifting it above a dozen outstretched hands. "Hold on!" he cried, authoritatively54. "Til read it." The silence of the grave fell on the crowd as the young man began to read.
"Friends and citizens," the note ran, "Winship has absconded55 with every dollar in the vaults56, except about two hundred dollars in my small safe. He has been gone two days, I thought on a visit to his kinfolks. I have just discovered the loss. I'm completely ruined, and am now trying to make out a report of my condition. Have mercy on an old man."
Rayburn's face was as white as that of a corpse58. The paper dropped from his hand and he stepped down into the crowd. He was himself no loser, but the Bishops59 had lost their all. How could he break the news to them? Presently he began to hope faintly that old Bishop might, within the last week, have drawn out at least part of the money, but that hope was soon discarded, for he remembered that the old man was waiting to invest the greater part of the deposit in some Shoal Creek60 Cotton Mill stock which had been promised him in a few weeks. No, the hope was groundless. Alan, his father, Mrs. Bishop, and—Adele—Miller's heart sank down into the very ooze61 of despair. All that he had done for Adele's people, and which had roused her deepest, tenderest gratitude62, was swept away. What would she think now?
His train of thought was rudely broken by an oath from Barnett, who, with the rage of a madman, suddenly threw his shoulder against the door. There was a crash, a groan of bursting timber and breaking bolts, and the door flew open. For one instant Miller saw the ghastly face and cowering63 form of the old banker behind the wire-grating, and then, with a scream of terror, Craig ran into a room in the rear, and thence made his escape at a door opening on the side street. The mob filled the bank, and did not discover Craig's escape for a minute; then, with a howl of rage, it surged back into the street. Craig was ahead of them, running towards the church, where prayer-meeting-was being held, the tails of his long frock-coat flying behind him, his worn silk hat in his convulsive grasp.
"Thar he goes!" yelled Barnett, and he led the mob after him, all running at the top of their speed without realizing why they were doing so. They gained on the fleeing banker, and Barnett could almost touch him when they reached the church. With a cry of fear, like that of a wild animal brought to bay, Craig sprang up the steps and ran into the church, crying and groaning64 for help.
A dozen men and women and children were kneeling at the altar to get the benefit of the prayers of the ministers and the congregation, but they stood up in alarm, some of them with wet faces.
The mob checked itself at the door, but the greater part of it crowded into the two aisles65, a motley human mass, many of them without coats or hats. The travelling evangelist seemed shocked out of expression; but the pastor66, Mr. Lapsley, who was an old Confederate soldier, and used to scenes of violence, stood calmly facing them.
"What's all this mean?" he asked.
"I came here for protection," whined67 Craig, "to my own church and people. This mob wants to kill me—tear me limb from limb."
"But what's wrong?" asked the preacher.
"Winship," panted Craig, his white head hanging down as he stood touching the altar railing—"Win-ship's absconded with all the money in my vault57. I'm ruined. These people want me to give up what I haven't got. Oh, God knows, I would refund68 every cent if I had it!"
"You shall have our protection," said the minister, calmly. "They won't violate the sacredness of the house of God by raising a row. You are safe here, brother Craig. I'm sure all reasonable people will not blame you for the fault of another."
"I believe he's got my money," cried out Barnett, in a coarse, sullen69 voice, "and the money of some o' my women folks that's helpless, and he's got to turn it over. Oh, he's got money some'r's, I 'll bet on that!"
"The law is your only recourse, Mr. Barnett," said the preacher, calmly. "Even now you are laying yourself liable to serious prosecution70 for threatening a man with bodily injury when you can't prove he's wilfully71 harmed you."
The words told on the mob, many of them being only small depositors, and Barnett found himself without open support. He was silent. Rayburn Miller, who had come up behind the mob and was now in the church, went to Craig's side. Many thought he was proffering72 his legal services.
"One word, Mr. Craig," he said, touching the quivering arm of the banker.
"Oh, you're no loser," said Craig, turning on him. "There was nothing to your credit."
"I know that," whispered Miller, "but as attorney for the Bishops, I have a right to ask if their money is safe." The eyes of the banker went to the ground.
"It's gone—every cent of it!" he said. "It was their money that tempted73 Winship. He'd never seen such a large pile at once."
"You don't mean—" But Miller felt the utter futility74 of the question on his tongue and turned away. Outside he met Jeff Dukes, one of the town marshals, who had been running, and was very red in the face and out of breath.
"Is that mob in thar?" he asked.
"Yes, and quiet now," said Miller. "Let them alone; the important thing is to put the police on Winship's track. Come back down-town."
"I 'll have to git the particulars from Craig fust," said Dukes. "Are you loser?"
"No, but some of my clients are, and I'm ready to stand any expense to catch the thief."
"Well, I 'll see you in a minute, and we 'll heat all the wires out of town. I 'll see you in a minute."
Farther down the street Miller met Dolly Barclay. She had come straight from her home, in an opposite direction from the bank, and had evidently not heard the news.
"I'm on my way to prayer-meeting," she smiled. "I'm getting good to please the old folks, but—" She noticed his pale face. "What is the matter? Has anything—"
"Craig's bank has failed," Rayburn told her briefly75. "He says Winship has absconded with all the cash in the vaults."
Dolly stared aghast. "And you—you—"
"I had no money there," broke in Miller. "I was fortunate enough to escape."
"But Alan—Mr. Bishop?" She was studying his face and pondering his unwonted excitement. "Had they money there?"
Miller did not answer, but she would not be put aside.
"Tell me," she urged—"tell me that."
"If I do, it's in absolute confidence," he said, with professional firmness. "No one must know—not a soul—that they were depositors, for much depends on it. If Wilson knew they were hard up he might drive them to the wall. They were not only depositors, but they lose every cent they have—twenty-five thousand dollars in a lump."
He saw her catch her breath, and her lips moved mutely, as if repeating the words he had just spoken. "Poor Alan!" he heard her say. "This is too, too much, after all he has gone through."
Miller touched his hat and started on, but she joined him, keeping by his side like a patient, pleading child. He marvelled76 over her strength and wonderful poise77. "I am taking you out of your way, Miss Dolly," he said, gently, more gently than he had ever spoken to her before.
"I only want to know if Alan has heard. Do—do tell me that."
"No, he's at home. I shall ride out as soon as I get the matter in the hands of the police."
She put out her slender, shapely hand and touched his arm.
"Tell him," she said, in a low, uncertain voice, "that it has broken my heart. Tell him I love him more than I ever did, and that I shall stick to him always."
Miller turned and took off his hat, giving her his hand.
"And I believe you will do it," he said. "He's a lucky dog, even if he has just struck the ceiling. I know him, and your message will soften78 the blow. But it's awful, simply awful! I can't now see how they can possibly get from under it."
"Well, tell him," said Dolly, with a little, soundless sob79 in her throat—"tell him what I told you."
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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revivals
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| n.复活( revival的名词复数 )；再生；复兴；（老戏多年后）重新上演 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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miller
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soothingly
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mighty
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standing
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gravy
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| n.肉汁；轻易得来的钱，外快 | |
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orphan
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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whine
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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mortified
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prosper
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testily
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glided
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amends
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fiery
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liar
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touching
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riveted
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hustled
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proprietor
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futures
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| n.期货，期货交易 | |
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tempt
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steadily
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spoke
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acting
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middle-aged
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winked
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rattled
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abruptly
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curiously
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dealer
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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41
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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43
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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48
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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49
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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50
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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51
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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53
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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absconded
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| v.（尤指逃避逮捕）潜逃，逃跑( abscond的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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58
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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59
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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60
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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61
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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62
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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68
refund
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| v.退还，偿还；n.归还，偿还额，退款 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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proffering
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的现在分词 ) | |
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73
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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74
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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78
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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