_A Joyful Farewell._
Mr. Seabright sat upright in bed and rubbed his eyes. The gas was
burning and there sat a man in one corner of his bedroom, turning a
rifle over and over, in a cool manner, a keen look of satisfaction in
his eyes.
"Am I dreaming? O, I am dreaming!" said Mr. Seabright, trying to thus
reassure himself; but a man was sitting in a chair in the corner, all as
plain as day.
"But I have had dreams that appeared as real," thought Mr. Seabright.
He pinched himself so as to further determine the fact as to whether he
was awake or asleep. Being thoroughly convinced that he was awake, he
quickly fell back in the bed and pulled the cover over his head.
Remembering, however, the man's rifle, he pulled the covering far enough
down to allow one terrified eye to keep track of the weapon.
"Mr. Seabright!" called the intruder.
"Sir," responded Mr. Seabright, in sepulchral tones.
"I think your wife belongs to that man Marshall's church," remarked the
man.
Mr. Seabright nodded assent.
"Tell her that her pastor will hardly live till morning and that he
would like to see her," said the man.
Mr. Seabright had now found courage to pull the cover down from over the
other eye, and it now rested on his nose.
"Did you hear me," said the man, rather sharply.
"You will please excuse my boldness," said Mr. Seabright, tremblingly,
"but you have a totally wrong conception of my disposition I fear, Mr.
Stranger. You can get the full benefit of my services with only the butt
end of that thing pointing my way, instead of the occasional shifting of
the muzzle in my direction."
The stranger smiled coldly and said, "Tell her what I said."
Mr. Seabright now got out of bed and proceeded to the door opening from
his room into that of his wife.
"Arabelle!" called Mr. Seabright through the partly opened door.
Mrs. Seabright, who was in the midst of a horrible dream, sprang out of
bed.
"Arabelle, Percy G. Marshall is dying and would like to see you."
"O my God! Can I save him?" she cried, wringing her hands.
Excited though she was, it was not long before she was attired and
rushing to the study of the church where she was told that she would
find the dying man. The door of the study was slightly ajar so that she
had no trouble in entering. There upon the sofa lay the dying man, his
hand pressed to his side, evidently in an effort to staunch the flow of
blood. It is the young man whom we saw repeating his childhood prayer
after Mrs. Seabright in the Domain Hotel.
"I knew that it would come to this, mother. I wanted to live to tell you
that," said the dying preacher.
"O my boy, my darling! O what has lain hold of me?" cried Mrs.
Seabright, as she knelt by the bedside of the dying one and kissed his
lips fervently.
A gasp and the spirit of the young man was gone. A loud scream rang out
on the night air when Mrs. Seabright realized that it was all over with
him.
"Wait, my boy, mother is coming."
Taking from her bosom a small vial she swallowed the contents, fell
across the breast of the dead and joined him in the spirit land.
* * * * *
When Mr. Seabright had delivered to Mrs. Seabright the message of the
intruder, he turned and looked at the man in a helpless sort of way.
When Mrs. Seabright was gone the man remarked to Mr. Seabright:
"I been had my eye on your house for sevul years. It makes a good fort
to shoot frum. It'll be turned to that use to-day. You'd better clean
out, for a mob 'll be here soon."
"O my God! Have they found me out? O my God! my God!" said Mr.
Seabright, wringing his hands.
"You may git now, I say," said the man.
Mr. Seabright sought to put on his clothes, but trembled so that he did
not make much headway. His visitor, to expedite matters, assisted him in
dressing.
"Take your money and the like. I won't need it where I'll be 'fore
night," said the intruder.
Mr. Seabright took advantage of this offer to pile into a small valise
all the money, valuable papers and jewels in the house that he could
find. He went out of the rear door and passed back to his stable, and
out into the alley.
Casting a look back at his house, he said: "Farewell, Hades!" Looking up
into the heavens, he whispered as he ran: "In case, O stars, any inquiry
is made of you as to my whereabouts, please let it be known, of course
without specifying the exact spot, that I have gone to the land of the
Eskimo. My face will soon be overgrown with a beard which I shall so dye
that the keenest scented mob in all the world can not discern any
difference between my humble self and the anatomy of the regulation
Eskimo. So, farewell!"