The Hidden Hand

Naught's had! all's spent!

When our desires are gained without content.--Shakespeare.

"The colonel!" exclaimed the three men in a breath, as the door opened and a tall, handsome and distinguished-looking gentleman, wrapped in a black military cloak and having his black beaver pulled low over his brow, strode into the room.

All arose upon their feet to greet him as though he had been a prince.

With a haughty wave of the hand, he bade them resume their seats, and beckoning their leader, said: "Donald, I would have a word with you!"

"At your command, colonel!" said the outlaw, rising and taking a candle and leading the way into the adjoining room, the same in which fourteen years before old Granny Grewell and the child had been detained.

Setting the candle upon the mantelpiece, Black Donald stood waiting for the visitor to open the conversation, a thing that the latter seemed in no hurry to do, for he began walking up and down the room in stern silence.

"You seem disturbed, colonel," at length said the outlaw.

"I am disturbed--more than disturbed! I am suffering!"

"Suffering, colonel?"

"Aye, suffering! From what think you? The pangs of remorse!"

"Remorse! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" laughed the outlaw till all the rafters rang.

"Aye, man, you may laugh; but I repeat that I am tortured with remorse! And for what do you suppose? For those acts of self-preservation that fanatics and fools would stigmatize as crimes? No, my good fellow, no! but for one 'unacted crime!'"

"I told your honor so!" cried the outlaw, triumphantly.

"Donald, when I go to church, as I do constantly, I hear the preacher prating of repentance; but man, I never knew the meaning of the word until recently."

"And I can almost guess what it is that has enlightened your honor?" said the outlaw.

"Yes, it is that miserable old woman and babe! Donald, in every vein of my soul I repent not having silenced them both forever while they were yet in my power!"

"Just so, colonel; the dead never come back, or if they do, are not recognized as property holders in this world. I wish your honor had taken my advice and sent that woman and child on a longer journey."

"Donald, I was younger then than now. I--shrank from bloodshed," said the man in a husky voice.

"Bah! superstition! Bloodshed--blood is shed every day! 'We kill to live!' say the butchers. So do we. Every creature preys upon some other creature weaker than himself--the big beasts eat up the little ones--artful men live on the simple! So be it! The world was made for the strong and cunning! Let the weak and foolish look to themselves!" said the outlaw, with a loud laugh.