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Updated: May 7, 2025
"You still wish it after the affront the Board has given me?" "I know, but what do they know about art? I would give the lectures if it was only to be able incidentally to teach them something. Be a little conciliatory, dear." "I will make no concessions. If I give the lectures, I must be allowed to select my courses. It is my province." "Did you see Elder Craigmile about it?" "I did."
It was no lack of love for his son that kept Elder Craigmile away at the departure of the boys from their camp on the bluff. He had virtually said his say and parted from his son when he gave his consent to his going in the first place. To him war meant sacrifice, and the parting with sons, at no matter what cost. The dominant idea with him was ever the preservation of the Union.
Yet he did not shrink from trying to learn from them all they knew about him, and for what reason they spoke as if to even mention his name was an indiscretion. It was really little they knew, only that he had gravely displeased their nephew, Peter Craigmile, who had brought Richard up, and who was his mother's twin brother. "But why did Uncle Peter have to bring me up?
It isn't the capitalists who have done this. It's the ones who had faith in themselves and dared the dangers and the hardships. They are the ones I honor." "They never went for love of humanity. It was mere love of wandering and migratory instinct," said his father, grimly. Peter Junior laughed merrily. "What did old grandfather Craigmile pull up and come over to this country for?
Elder Craigmile heard it, and consented that his last and only son should enter the ranks and give his life, if need be, for the saving of the nation. Still, tempering all this sorrow and anxiety was the chance for action, and the hope of victory.
Then is he, posing as Peter Craigmile, Jr., free from the charge of murder even if he makes confession thereto. He returns and makes this plea because he would live the life of a free man and not that of an outcast. He has himself told you why. "Now, as for the proofs that he is Richard Kildene, you have heard them and know them to be unanswered. He has not the marks of Elder Craigmile's son.
By Monday evening there were only two people in all the small town of Leauvite who had not heard of the tragedy, and these were Hester Craigmile and Betty Ballard.
The boys laughed uproariously, and the rest all smiled, except Betty, who was grave and really seemed somewhat embarrassed. "What is it?" she asked. "Mr. Thurbyfil, this is Mr. Craigmile," said Martha. "You introduced him as Mr. Junior, Betty." "I didn't! Well, that's because I'm bashful. Come on, everybody, mother's in." So they all climbed into the wagon and began to find their places.
He loved her and was tender of her, but his word was law, and in all matters he was dictator, lawmaker, and judge, and from his decisions there was no appeal. It never occurred to him that there ever need be. So Hester Craigmile, reserved and intense, closed her lips on her own thoughts, which it seemed to her to be useless to utter, and let them eat her heart out in silence.
Take me to the jail to see him, and after that I will try to do what is right. I can think clearer after I have seen him." "I don't know if that will be allowed but " "It will have to be allowed. How can I say if it is Richard until I see him. It may not be Richard. The Elder is too blinded to even go near him, and dear Mrs. Craigmile is not here.
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