"The cowardly insinuations against the record of a justly honored capitalist,"said the "Pioneer,""although quite in keeping with the brazen 'Clarion,'might attract the attentions of the slandered party,if it were not known to his friends as well as himself that it may be traced almost directly to a cast-off member of his own family,who,it seems,is reduced to haunting the back doors of certain blatant journals to dispose of his cheap wares.The slanderer is secure from public exposure in the superior decency of his relations,who refrain from airing their family linen upon editorial lines."This was the journal to which John Milton had hopefully turned for work.When he read it there seemed but one thing for him to do--and he did it.Gentle and optimistic as was his nature,he had been brought up in a community where sincere directness of personal offense was followed by equally sincere directness of personal redress,and--he challenged the editor.The bearer of his cartel was one Jack Hamlin,I grieve to say a gambler by profession,but between whom and John Milton had sprung up an odd friendship of which the best that can be said is that it was to each equally and unselfishly unprofitable.The challenge was accepted,the preliminaries arranged."I suppose,"said Jack carelessly,"as the old man ought to do something for your wife in case of accident,you've made some sort of a will?""I've thought of that,"said John Milton,dubiously,"but I'm afraid it's no use.You see"--he hesitated--"I'm not of age.""May I ask how old you are,sonny?"said Jack with great gravity.
"I'm almost twenty,"said John Milton,coloring.
"It isn't exactly vingt-et-un,but I'd stand on it;if I were you Iwouldn't draw to such a hand,"said Jack,coolly.
The young husband had arranged to be absent from his home that night,and early morning found him,with Jack,grave,but courageous,in a little hollow behind the Mission Hills.To them presently approached his antagonist,jauntily accompanied by Colonel Starbottle,his second.They halted,but after the formal salutation were instantly joined by Jack Hamlin.For a few moments John Milton remained awkwardly alone--pending a conversation which even at that supreme moment he felt as being like the general attitude of his friends towards him,in its complete ignoring of himself.The next moment the three men stepped towards him."We have come,sir,"said Colonel Starbottle in his precisest speech but his jauntiest manner,"to offer you a full and ample apology--a personal apology--which only supplements that full public apology that my principal,sir,this gentleman,"indicating the editor of the "Pioneer,""has this morning made in the columns of his paper,as you will observe,"producing a newspaper."We have,sir,"continued the colonel loftily,"only within the last twelve hours become aware of the--er--REAL circumstances of the case.We would regret that the affair had gone so far already,if it had not given us,sir,the opportunity of testifying to your gallantry.We do so gladly;and if--er--er--a FEW YEARS LATER,Mr.Harcourt,you should ever need--a friend in any matter of this kind,I am,sir,at your service."John Milton gazed half inquiringly,half uneasily at Jack.
"It's all right,Milt,"he said sotto voce."Shake hands all round and let's go to breakfast.And I rather think that editor wants to employ you HIMSELF."It was true,for when that night he climbed eagerly the steep homeward hill he carried with him the written offer of an engagement on the "Pioneer."As he entered the door his wife's nurse and companion met him with a serious face.There had been a strange and unexpected change in the patient's condition,and the doctor had already been there twice.As he put aside his coat and hat and entered her room,it seemed to him that he had forever put aside all else of essay and ambition beyond those four walls.And with the thought a great peace came upon him.It seemed good to him to live for her alone.
It was not for long.As each monotonous day brought the morning mist and evening fog regularly to the little hilltop where his whole being was now centred,she seemed to grow daily weaker,and the little circle of her life narrowed day by day.One morning when the usual mist appeared to have been withheld and the sun had risen with a strange and cruel brightness;when the waves danced and sparkled on the bay below and light glanced from dazzling sails,and even the white tombs on Lone Mountain glittered keenly;when cheery voices hailing each other on the hillside came to him clearly but without sense or meaning;when earth,sky,and sea seemed quivering with life and motion,--he opened the door of that one little house on which the only shadow seemed to have fallen,and went forth again into the world alone.
