not knowing it, and the
beautiful woman with red shame in her soul followed him with downcast
face. In the church porch she lifted up her face as she said with her
fair, false mouth: "Tom, isn't it funny how those kind of people
sometimes have talent--just like the lower animals seem to have
intelligence. Dear me, but that child's music has upset me!"

The man's heart was full of pride and hate and the woman's heart was
full of pride and jealousy. Still the air was sweet for them, the birds
sang for them, and the sun shone tenderly upon them. They even laughed,
as they went their high Jovian way, at the vanities of the world on its
lower plane. But their very laughter was the crackling of thorns under a
pot wherein their hearts were burning.

CHAPTER XXVII

IN WHICH WE SEE SOMETHING COME INTO THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF THE MATERIAL
WORLD

"Life," writes Mr. Left, using the pseudonym of the Peachblow
philosopher, "disheartens us because we expect the wrong things of it.
We expect material rewards for spiritual virtues, material punishments
for spiritual transgressions; when even in the material world, material
rewards and punishments do not always follow the acts which seem to
require them. Yet the only sure thing in the world is that our spiritual
lapses bring spiritual punishments, and our spiritual virtues have their
spiritual rewards."

Now these observations of Mr. Left might well be taken for the thesis of
this story. Tom Van Dorn's spiritual transgressions had no material
punishments and the good that was in Grant Adams had no material reward.
Yet the spiritual laws which they obeyed or violated were inexorable in
their rewards and punishments.

Once there entered the life of Judge Van Dorn, from the outside, the
play of purely spiritual forces, which looped him up and tripped him in
another man's game, and Tom, poor fellow, may have thought that it was a
special Providence around with a warrant looking after him. Now this
statement hangs on one "if,"--if you can call Nate Perry a man! "One
generation passeth and another cometh on," saith the Preacher. Perhaps
it has occurred to the reader that the love affairs of this book are
becoming exceedingly middle aged; some have only the dying glow of early
reminiscence. But here comes one that is as young as spring flowers;
that is--if Nate Perry is a man, and is entitled to a love affair at
all. Let's take a look at him: long legged, lean faced, keen eyed, ra