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Updated: May 10, 2025
Another opportunity of work in the States had come meanwhile; the decision had not been easy to make. When Falkner had written his wife, Bessie had replied: "You must do what seems best to you, as you have always done in the past.... Of course I cannot take the children to Panama."
The Rev. T.F. Falkner and the Rev. E.P. Lowry marched nearly the whole way to Kroonstadt with the troops, and the latter speaks of it as the most trying march of the whole campaign. Opportunities for Christian work, with the exception of the hearty handshake or the whispered prayer, were but few, though during the pauses at Brandfort and at Kroonstadt several successful services were held.
And it was not because of her husband's failures, his follies, not the money mistakes. It was himself, the petty nature he revealed in every act. For women like Margaret Pole can endure vice and folly and disappointment, but not a petty, trivial, chattering biped that masquerades as Man. IN the weeks that followed the accident Margaret Pole saw much of Falkner.
On one occasion the frigate was off one of the French islands, and in a harbour protected by a fort on either side, several privateers and other armed vessels were discovered at anchor. As they were craft likely to do much damage to English merchant shipping, Captain Falkner resolved, though it was an undertaking of considerable risk, to cut them out.
Dick Falkner, Uncle Bobbie and his wife, and Clara Wilson, with George, followed the hearse to the cemetery. To-day, the visitor to Mt. Olive, will read with wonder, the inscription on a simple stone, bearing no name, but telling the story of the young man's death, and followed by these words, "I was a stranger and ye took me not in."
The ignorant villain started and glanced over his shoulder to the dark corner of the cabin; "Thar' might be a ha'nt here, shor' 'nough," he whispered hoarsely. "Do yo' know whar' ye air, Mister?" Then as Whitley remained silent, he continued: "This here's th' house whar' Dickie Falkner war' borned; an' whar' his mammy died; an' an' I'm Jake Tompkins; me 'n his daddy war' pards."
It gave no warning, and Falkner was caught ten miles from camp. He was making a struggle for life before he reached the shack. He was exhausted, and half blinded. He could hardly stand on his feet when he staggered up against his own door. He could see nothing when he entered. He stumbled over a stool, and fell to the floor. Before he could rise a strange weight was upon him.
Nevertheless, his badinage failed somehow to amuse Kate, and she presently excused herself to rejoin her sister, who had already slipped from the room. For the first time during their enforced seclusion a sense of restraint and uneasiness affected Mrs. Hale, her sister, and Falkner at dinner. The latter addressed himself to Mrs. Scott, almost entirely. Mrs.
But of course it couldn't be that way; so we got married properly in the fall in Denver, and then came straight here. And," with a long sigh, "we've been here ever since. Stuck!" "I should think you would have preferred the cabin above the dam," Isabelle suggested, recalling her own romantic notion of Dog Mountain. Mrs. Falkner made a little grimace. "That might do for two or three months.
The summit of the mountain loomed above them, the Altar. Margaret as they turned towards the village stretched her arms upwards to the Altar, there where she had lain as it were naked for the sacrifice before the man she loved. "Come!" he said gently. They had kissed for the last time. As they approached the Inn at the farther end of the village, Falkner was saying in reply to her question:
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