Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PRIDE OF TYSON. man who could stop the building of that ‘dam. You see what a child she is? And to you, senor, what could she ever be more than a toy?” - Tyson rose in anger, but the padre rose also and dropped his hands on the shoulders of the young man. “ Think, my son,” he urged gently. “IT shall give you my word,” said Tyson, flushing, “ that before this moment I never thought seriously of the girl. And now—” ’ rT} Ah—now? ” “It is a crime that so rare and genuine a nature should go to Kennedy—one of the canaille!”’ “ And you, sezor, what would you do with her?” - “You speak, sir ’—this with rising irri- tation—“ as if that wild ~ woman were in the hollow of my hand.” “No. I only fear. honor.”’ “ Honor,” said Tyson coldly, “ cannot go in leading strings.” “Ah, my son,” murmured the padre sadly. “ You are filled with double pur- poses, and I only follow the shadow of your mind. Beware! Beware of pride! To-day I feel you are clean of body and mind. But to-morrow you may be viler than the leper. God Himself could hardly cleanse you. Pride, my son, it is a canker that eats the heart of.a man. To-day you feel yourself a proven man. To-morrow your pride may be hurt, and when it is touched you may become a wolf, tearing all things around you.” Tyson frowned. impatiently, padre lifted his hand for silence. A light, sweet whistling, like that of a strong song- ster flying up the wind, came to them over the wall of the cemetery. “It is she!’”? muttered Tyson. “And your face lights with danger,” said the padre gloomily. ‘ Alas! my son, _I fear there were no evil thoughts in your mind before I put them there to-day. Our Father forgive me if it is true. And so you will give me no promises?”’ “ Padre Miguel,” said Tyson, his voice hard, “‘ you are not young.” “It is true,” said the padre, and smiled calmly into the angry face of the youth. I appeal to your Digitized by Google meee. and the. 397 “I am going to meet her,” said Tyson. ‘“‘ Ah?” said the padre. - ‘‘ And I shall] try to act always as a man of honor should act. Does that please you, sir?”’ The padre made a singular gesture of resignation. “The wind pleases me and the calm also,” he said softly; “the drought and the rain as well. The will of our- Father is all.” Tyson whirled on his heel and stalked away, ‘but the Padre Miguel followed the retreating form with the same undecipheral smile. Afterward he resumed his place in the stone chair and remained for a long time gazing down the valley, where the blues. of the evening climbed the sides of Cabeza and Blanca, though rosy light sul rested on their heads. “It is true,” said the padre, and he spoke softly in the solitude. “I am no longer young.” A faint echo nodded gently back to him from the ancient wall. CHAPTER XXX. PRIDE WASHES CLEAN. S for Tyson, he swung down the valley at a rapid pace. Expectancy put a spring in his step, expectancy of what he could not know. The good father ‘had worked. quite the opposite of what he hoped. For the life of Tyson had been singularly clean, strangely free of the usual faults of men of his own leisure class; the companionship of Mar- garet had been an antidote for the atmos- phere of sin in which so much of his life had: been spent. Rona had been to him only a diversion, an oddity, with just a touch of novelty and beauty besides.. But he would probably have seen her a thousand times in full inno- cence. The pride of caste held him in bands of iron. Alt the world he admitted to his acquaintance, The brown, simple Mexi- cans, rough-handed Garth, they were all free to occupy his ear and receive his Ori gine i fro m vee CO