If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"I heard that there was a young woman, I jist fergit her name, who took on very hard. It nearly broke her heart at what the parson did. She was a fine singer, too, so I understand. She was sick fer a long time. When she got well she left Glendale, an' I heard later that she became a trained nurse. She was very beautiful. I know that, fer I saw her once myself. She was very much in love with the young parson, so I heard, an' she had her weddin' dress all made. They were to have been married the next summer. It was all very sad."

Tom knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and sat watching the dying embers before him. Martin remained in his chair with his head bent forward, the very embodiment of despair. Occasionally Tom glanced toward him, and his heart smote him with compunction for having caused the man such agony of soul.

Nance wondered more than usual at the expression upon her father's face as she stooped to give him the customary good-night kiss. She noticed that he took both of her hands in his and held them longer than was his wont. She knew that something was troubling his mind, and her heart was very heavy as she went to her room.

During the following days Martin's mind was much disturbed. The news he had heard about his parents caused him intense remorse. He thought of them by day, and would often start up in the dead of night thinking that they were standing by his side. He pictured over and over again their sorrow as they sat alone at night in the old farmhouse, mourning over their wayward son. He recalled the last time he had seen them and how proudly they had looked into his face. Never before did he fully realise what his sin had meant to them. But now it all swept upon him with a maddening intensity. Often a lump would rise in his throat, and tears roll down his cheeks as that night when he had last seen his parents rose before him. Once out on the hills he had buried his face in his hands and sobbed like a child. Only the trees, flowers, and birds witnessed his grief, and they would not divulge the secret.

Although Martin was fond of the old prospector, yet he felt somewhat uneasy in his presence. Several times he found Tom watching him with a wondering expression in his eyes. He was, accordingly, glad when Tom left with Dad for the diggings up the Quaska. But he knew that he would return in a few days, and his peace of mind would once more be disturbed.

One beautiful evening Martin and Nance were seated at the supper table. The ice had run out of the lake and the river over a week ago. The air was balmy, and the days long and fine. Nance had been unusually quiet of late. She was wondering when Dick would return, and if he would be really the same as when he went away. She had thought over and over again every word he had uttered. The chair on which he had sat the last night he was in the cabin she had carefully kept in the same place. "It will be there for him when he comes back," she had whispered to herself.

Hers was the supreme joy of pure first love, and her heart was light and happy. Dick Russell's strong, manly form rose before her. She saw the twinkle in his light-blue eyes, the frank open face, and the erect poise of his head. To her he was a hero, a knight such as she had read about in a book upon the shelf. She was thinking of him as she now sat at the head of the table on this fine evening.

"It will soon be time for us to be packing up, Nance."

The words startled her, and she lifted her eyes quickly to Martin's face.

"Yes," the latter continued, "we must be over to the Mackenzie in time to catch the steamer on its return from the North."