A Master's Degree [51]
hesitated, then ceased to speak.
"Why the Dean?" Burgess asked.
"Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks wouldn't let her marry," Bond Saxon said sadly.
Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him.
"Where is she now?"
She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come back," the old man replied.
"And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?"
"No, no. She's never let him know, and if she does n't want him to know, whose business is it to tell him?" Saxon urged. "I have hung about and protected her when she never knew I was near. But when I'm drunk, I'm an idiot and my mind is bent against her. I'd die to save her, and yet I may kill her some day when I don't know it." Bond Saxon's head was drooping pitifully low.
"But why live in such slavery? Why not tell all you know about this man and let the law protect a helpless woman?" Burgess urged.
Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--"Dennie!"
Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie.
"This woman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently.
Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head.
"What became of him? Do you know? Vincent questioned.
Saxon leaned forward, and, clutching Vincent Burgess by the arm, whispered hoarsely, "He's dead. I killed him. But I was drunk when I did it. And this man knows it and holds me bound,"
SERVICE
_If you were born to honor, show it now; if put upon you, make the judgment good that thought you worthy of it_. --SHAKESPEARE
CHAPTER XI
THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
_They enslave their children's children who make compromise with sin_. --LOWELL
IT was mid-December before Lloyd Fenneben saw Lagonda Ledge again. In the murderous attempt upon his life, he had been hurled, head-downward, upon the hidden rock-ledge with such force that even his strong nervous system could barely overcome the shock. Hours of unconsciousness were followed by a raging brain fever, and paralysis, insanity, and death strove together against him. His final complete recovery was slow, and he was wise enough to let nature have ample time for rebuilding what had been so cruelly wrenched out of line. It was this very patience and willingness to take life calmly, when most men would have been in a fever of anxiety about neglected business, that brought Lloyd Fenneben back to Lagonda Ledge in December, a perfectly well man; and aside from the holiday given in honor of the event, aside from the display of flags and the big "Welcome" done in electric lights awaiting him at the railroad station, where all the portable population of Lagonda Ledge and most of the Walnut Valley, headed by the Sunrise contingent, en masse, seemed to be waiting also--aside from the demonstration and general hilarity and thanksgiving and rejoicing, there seemed no difference between the Dean of the days that followed and the Dean of the years before. His black hair was as long and heavy as ever. His black eyes had lost nothing of their keenness. His smile was just the same old, genial outbreak of good will, as he heard the wildly enthusiastic refrain:
Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!!
It was twilight when the train pulled up to the station. The December evening was clear and crisp as southern Kansas Decembers usually are. The lights of the town were twinkling in the dusk. Out beyond the river a gorgeous purple and scarlet after-sunset glow was filling the west with that magnificence of coloring only the hand of Nature dares to paint.
Several passengers left the train, but the company had eyes only for the Pullman car where Fenneben was riding. Nobody, except Bond Saxon, and a cab driver on the edge of the crowd, noticed a gray-haired woman who alighted so quietly and slipped to the cab so quickly that she was almost out to Pigeon Place before Fenneben had been able
"Why the Dean?" Burgess asked.
"Because Lloyd Fenneben's the man she loved years ago, and her folks wouldn't let her marry," Bond Saxon said sadly.
Burgess felt as if the limestone ridge was giving way beneath him.
"Where is she now?"
She's gone, nobody knows where. I hope to heaven she will never come back," the old man replied.
"And it was she who saved Dr. Fenneben's life? Does he know who she is?"
"No, no. She's never let him know, and if she does n't want him to know, whose business is it to tell him?" Saxon urged. "I have hung about and protected her when she never knew I was near. But when I'm drunk, I'm an idiot and my mind is bent against her. I'd die to save her, and yet I may kill her some day when I don't know it." Bond Saxon's head was drooping pitifully low.
"But why live in such slavery? Why not tell all you know about this man and let the law protect a helpless woman?" Burgess urged.
Old Bond Saxon looked up and uttered only one word--"Dennie!"
Vincent Burgess turned away a moment. Dennie! Yes, there was Dennie.
"This woman had a husband, you say?" he asked presently.
Bond Saxon stared straight at him and slowly nodded his head.
"What became of him? Do you know? Vincent questioned.
Saxon leaned forward, and, clutching Vincent Burgess by the arm, whispered hoarsely, "He's dead. I killed him. But I was drunk when I did it. And this man knows it and holds me bound,"
SERVICE
_If you were born to honor, show it now; if put upon you, make the judgment good that thought you worthy of it_. --SHAKESPEARE
CHAPTER XI
THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
_They enslave their children's children who make compromise with sin_. --LOWELL
IT was mid-December before Lloyd Fenneben saw Lagonda Ledge again. In the murderous attempt upon his life, he had been hurled, head-downward, upon the hidden rock-ledge with such force that even his strong nervous system could barely overcome the shock. Hours of unconsciousness were followed by a raging brain fever, and paralysis, insanity, and death strove together against him. His final complete recovery was slow, and he was wise enough to let nature have ample time for rebuilding what had been so cruelly wrenched out of line. It was this very patience and willingness to take life calmly, when most men would have been in a fever of anxiety about neglected business, that brought Lloyd Fenneben back to Lagonda Ledge in December, a perfectly well man; and aside from the holiday given in honor of the event, aside from the display of flags and the big "Welcome" done in electric lights awaiting him at the railroad station, where all the portable population of Lagonda Ledge and most of the Walnut Valley, headed by the Sunrise contingent, en masse, seemed to be waiting also--aside from the demonstration and general hilarity and thanksgiving and rejoicing, there seemed no difference between the Dean of the days that followed and the Dean of the years before. His black hair was as long and heavy as ever. His black eyes had lost nothing of their keenness. His smile was just the same old, genial outbreak of good will, as he heard the wildly enthusiastic refrain:
Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! Rah for Funnybone! _Rah!_ RAH!! RAH!!!
It was twilight when the train pulled up to the station. The December evening was clear and crisp as southern Kansas Decembers usually are. The lights of the town were twinkling in the dusk. Out beyond the river a gorgeous purple and scarlet after-sunset glow was filling the west with that magnificence of coloring only the hand of Nature dares to paint.
Several passengers left the train, but the company had eyes only for the Pullman car where Fenneben was riding. Nobody, except Bond Saxon, and a cab driver on the edge of the crowd, noticed a gray-haired woman who alighted so quietly and slipped to the cab so quickly that she was almost out to Pigeon Place before Fenneben had been able