The eventful night had passed, and the great Day God was slowly but surely making his appearance in the Oriental horizon. It proved a bright sunny day, but was there Sunshine in all of our characters’ hearts? No. Deep down in the recesses of the human heart, there is a cord which can be touched in various ways. We will briefly illustrate some of those ways this cord may be touched by Shame—remorse—resentment—humility—degradation—and punishment.

Joshua Sowers was thinking of this when he started out of his house for the mill. So thinking of shame and smitten with remorse for what he had done years ago for revenge and also thinking of the degradation of him and his family if this deed should come to light. He went to the stable after he had started the mill. He found Wilse attending to the horses and he said: “Why, good morning, Wilse, I am glad you didn’t go away, for when I went home I found my daughter in a dead faint and stabbed in the breast, but not very badly stabbed. I hope you will not leave or say anything about our {. . .} it will kill Mattie to hear of her father’s mean plotting. You won’t say anything about [it,] will you, Wilse?”

Wilse studied awhile and then said huskily: ÷ “I don’t know. When a man defies another to do their worst, I think it is time to tell all one knows.” Sowers began to feel scared for fear Wilse would tell, so he said with a sickly smile:

“Well, Wilse, give me your answer when you get your breakfast, won’t you?”

“Yes I will,” said Wilse tartly, and Sowers went slowly toward his house. He met his new miller at the dining-room door.

“Why, how are you, Hugh?” said Mr. Sowers kindly.

“Good morning, Mr. Sowers,” Hugh said with a bow. “I am well, thank you. I couldn’t get off from home yesterday. I hope you’ll excuse me for not coming.”

“Oh, very excusable, Hugh, very excusable.” They took seats on the porch and began talking matters over.

“I am really sorry to hear your daughter had been seriously wounded by some unknown person,” Hugh said in the course of the conversation.

“From all accounts, it was not an unknown person,” said Mr. Sowers as soon as Hugh Walters ceased speaking. He added after a moment’s pause, “Albert King is suspected, as he has disappeared so mysteriously and Just at this particular time.”

Hugh was bewildered. He did not know that Al King was missing. He was interested at once, so he asked:

“Isn’t Albert at the mill?”

“No, he has not been seen or heard of since Sunday,” Mr. Sowers said, and further conversation was cut short by Aunt Sally announcing breakfast. When Hugh went into the dining room, he was warmly greeted by Ella and Mrs. Sowers.

“Why, Miss Ella,” said he, “how have you been enjoying yourself since Willie went away?”

“You are speaking in a jesting way,” said Ella seriously. “But to tell the truth, I can’t enjoy myself while he is away and Al King at large.”

Hugh laughed and said: ÷ “Why, you must think Albert is dangerous. He always acted like a gentleman with me.” Ella did not speak for some time—finally she said:

“It is more than I can say about him. He acted very mean with me not long since.”

They had finished their breakfast, and they rose from the table. Mr. Sowers walked down to the gate, and as Wilse came out he asked in a low voice—

“Wilse, what is your decision?” ÷

Wilse did not stop but said in a voice equally low, “I will not say anything about it.”

While this was going on, Hugh was having a pleasant chat with Ella. Hugh Walters was one of those men who had never had Cupid’s arrow plunged in his heart. He liked to talk with a young Lady, but as for love, he called that nonsense.

Will he be an old bachelor? That question will [be] answered in the course of time. God has not left it for man to look into the future.

“Well, good-day, Ella. Until I see you again,” Hugh said as he started off toward the mill. As soon as Mr. Sowers had given Hugh his full lessons about the mill, he set off for Winchester to see if he could find a person sharp enough for a detective. He thought it useless to try, so he earlier telegraphed to New York for a detective. Before noon he received a reply. It ran as follows: ÷

Will send one immediately.
          A. C. Ricard, Chief of Detectives

He read it and hurried home, in good spirits. He was so glad he had met with success. The doctor rode out with him.

“I am so glad I met with such immediate success,” Sowers said gleefully. Ah, little did he know how completely he had put himself in a man’s power, a man that had been hunting him for years—had been hunting ever since that night him [sic] and Wilse went out to the— We cannot finish that sentence. The pen refuses to the words to finish that sentence. Yes, he had put himself fully in a certain man’s power. Who was this man? Was he a detective? What did he want with the great Virginia mill owner? Would he find Wilse? Would he know him?

Those are all questions, and we are resolved to find answers in the course of time. Answers to all of them.

Sowers and Dr. Maltby soon reached the former’s residence. The doctor went up to see his patient immediately. While he is making an examination, allow me to premise that Dr. Maltby did not leave Mr. Sowers’ residence on that eventful night—until near four o’clock. Therefore, he had had little rest—very little. Well, what is [sic] he got to say about his patient?

“She cannot escape the typhoid fever,” says he, in answer to one of Ella’s anxious inquiries.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” exclaimed the kind-hearted girl. “I am so sorry, so very sorry for poor dear Mattie. Oh Mattie, speak to me, do please.”

There was no answer, only a vacant stare, only an idiotic whimper from kind-hearted Mattie Sowers. She had lost her mind—she knew nothing.

Oh, the bitter pangs of that mother’s heart as she sat at the bedside of her only child! She did not say much, but her thoughts were—“Oh! that I could suffer for thee, my child!” Mrs. Sowers was a meek, uncomplaining woman. She had borne life’s troubles quietly.

Yes, without a murmur. Now here was a new trouble—her dear daughter, an only child, suffering and would perhaps die.

Her reverie was interrupted by Mr. Sowers entering. He asked anxiously:

“Doctor, how is she? Any better?” The doctor replied in the negative. Then Sowers said: “Do you think she will be strong enough—that is, is her constitution strong? Strong enough to carry her through this fever?”

“Yes,” the doctor said. “Yes, I think her constitution is strong enough. It will be hard for her, though.”

Soon after this, the doctor took his leave. Before he left, Sowers told him not to say anything about the detective. Shortly after the doctor left, Kate came up to see Mattie. She expressed her “heartfelt” sorrow in this wise:^[1] ÷ “Oh poor thing, I wonder who could have the heart to harm one hair of her head.”

“Kate, don’t talk so loud,” said Ella sternly but in a low voice. “It will be worse than stabbing her if you kill her by your harangue.”

Kate did not care for what Ella said for, as previously mentioned, she didn’t take insults.

She talked a great deal about the wickedness of the world, and she said in conclusion: ÷

“Indeed, I think the world will not stand long if people don’t get better.”

After this she went down in the kitchen and, as she said, “to have a pleasant chat with Aunt Sally.” When she entered the kitchen, Aunt Sally was singing one of her peculiar hymns. The words ran thus:

Oh de church was built an’ de aingile mourn.
          King Jesus laid de corner stone
                    Oh my Jesus he died on de tree

George came in about this time, and he remarked:

“Don’t cry any more, Aunt Sally. Your mother is better, I hope.” Aunt Sally grew indignant at this and started George off in a hurry.

“George is so impudent,” Kate said to Aunt Sally sympathetically, but Aunt Sally grew more indignant than ever. She gave Kate a “black” look and said:

“Now Kate, hain’t I done gone an’ tole you yistiddy dat we dem don’t want you here?”

“I know you said so, but I hope you don’t mean it,” Kate said, smiling faintly.

“Yes, I does mean it,” said Aunt Sally sternly, and Kate took leave at once.

We now find Mr. Sowers in the haymow talking to Wilse. He kept nothing from Wilse, so he told Wilse about the coming of a detective. Wilse paled a little at hearing this.

“Now, Wilse, I don’t want you to tell anyone about this detective or let him know that you know he is a detective.” Sowers said this as he was about to go to his house. As soon as he left, Wilse began talking to himself:

“If they catch my fellow, I am done for. Confound the detective! He may come fooling around me. If he does, I will put a knife in his heart.” After a short pause, he added, “If I was only out of Jane Barton’s power, I might close business and leave before the detective comes. I must be on my guard, for if he should call me by any other name than Wilse, if he does, I must not answer.” His reverie was stopped by Herbert Armstead riding to the yard to fasten his horse. As soon as Herbert had secured his horse, he went to Mr. Sowers’ house. He found Ella in the dining-room alone.

“How do you find yourself, Ella, and how is Miss Mattie?” Herbert said this as he entered the room.

“I am well, Bertie. But poor Mattie is very low. Oh Bertie, you know how I loved her. You can Sympathize with me. Can’t you?”

“Yes indeed, dear Sister, I can sympathize with you,” said Herbert warmly. He added after a pause, “Who could have done this? Have you formed any theory?”

“Yes, we have formed a theory. Al King is suspected, as he has not been seen since Sunday.” Herbert looked surprised.

“What!” says he. “Al King ain’t gone?”

“Yes, Al King is gone somewhere, where at we are not able to say,” Ella said complacently.

They had a long talk. Near the conclusion, Herbert said, “Well, perhaps it is best for him, for I came up here with the intention of whipping [him] thoroughly.” He then went over to the mill to see his old friend Hugh Walters.

“Well Hugh, you are millering alone, I see,” said Herbert, as he shook his friend’s hand.

“Yes, I am alone,” Hugh said. “And I am glad of it, if it was not for one thing. That is, Al King is suspected of attempting to murder young Miss Sowers. I hope he may come back soon and prove his innocence or confess his crime, for I call it nothing less than a crime.” They talked a good while, perhaps upon subjects that would not interest the Reader. So we will not rehearse them.

We will give more attention to Joshua Sowers. He was sitting on his porch in a deep study as usual.

“Let see,” said he to himself. “The detective will be here by Saturday morning, if not sooner. I wish he was here now. I want to get on the intended assassin’s track as soon as possible.”

Dinner was announced and they all went promptly to it. After this was over, we follow Ella to the sick room and find Mattie with a high fever and raving. Mrs. Barton came up in the afternoon and stayed awhile, and about four o’clock Dr. Maltby came. He looked at his patient for some time. Finally he turned to Ella and said:

“Miss Ella, I will give you a sign to go by. This is the third day of April. If any change takes place the eleventh, why, you can decide for yourself—namely, if she gets better that day, she will be pretty certain to rally; if she gets worse, her chances are small.”

“Well, I will look anxiously forward for that day,” Ella said earnestly, and the doctor said as he rose to go:

“Miss Ella, if you follow my directions implicitly you may rest assured that the change will be for the better and so, until tomorrow, au revoir.”

“Good evening, Doctor,” said Ella. As he finished speaking, the doctor hurried off for home.

The great one has ordained time to go fast. It must obey. So it was not long after the doctor left before the great Day God was slowly sinking behind the western hills. About nine o’clock p.m., on entering Mrs. Sowers’ chamber, we find her on her knees entreating the great one to spare her child.

Ella was sitting by Mattie’s bed thinking of her lover and wondering where he was.

It would have been a tedious task for some persons to sit there by that sick bed all the time. It was not to Ella.

Sitting there in one of her reveries, she did not see two tigerish eyes gleaming with malice fixed upon her, nor did she see a figure try to raise the window. Did she hear that voice saying, “I will kill her if I get a chance?” No, she sat there all unconscious of the danger she was in. Suddenly there was a pistol pointed at her through the window—there was a loud report and a still louder scream and all was still!