The Art of Disappearing

im? He accepted the new house and the new mother with scarcely a comment. Mrs. Anne Dillon knew him only as a respectable young man of wealth, whom misfortune had driven

bout getting ready a little supper, he dozed in the rocker, thinking of that dear mother who had illumined his youth like a vision, beautiful, refined, ever delightful; then of old Martha, rough, plain, and sad, but with the spirit and wit of the true mother, to cherish the sorrowful. In love for the child these mothers were a

say to-morrow. The first thing in the mornin' Louis Everard will be over to see you. Since he heard of your comin', he's been jist wild, for he was your favorite; you taught him to swim, an' to play ball, an' to skate, an' carried him around with you, though he's six years younger than you. He's goin' to be a priest in time with the blessin' o' God. Then his mother an' sist

know all these

h if you like. As each one comes I'll let you know jist who they are. You needn't talk any more

d him his room, a plain chamber with sacred pictures on th

said with a sob. "An' your picture as y

likeness between the new and the old Arthur was not striking; yet any one who wished or thought to find a resemblan

oy was-was I at t

to understan' why you ran away as you did. I wonder now my heart didn't break over it. The neighbors jist adored yo

hink these accomplishments can be easily learned aga

he's a quiet man that says lit

een the opening of the outer door and the woman's appearance, Arthur took the old lady in his arms and kissed her. She was the

in spite of the whisker

in me own two arrums the night you were born? An' was there a day afther that I didn't have something to do wid ye? Oh, ye little spalpeen, to give us all the fright ye did, runnin' away t

same moment, and they withdrew to bed. He was awakened in the

y on'y, an' not body an' sowl together, that kem home to ye. Jist like ould Mrs. Wilcox the night her son di

way he left me, an' it's so long since I saw him, Judy, an' he's so th

for he saw at once the necessity of removing the very natural constraint indicated by his mother's wo

. "But you and I, son, will have to make many's the explanati

sun looked in on him pleasantly, he took a sniff of air from a brickish garden, saw the brown walls of the cathedral not far away, and then went back to bed. A sudden and overpowering weakness came upon him which made the bed agreeable. Here he

ard! Make m

th a shout, warning him that the returned wanderer was a sick man. There w

if I come any neare

um, whom he had loved, and trained, and tyrannized over long ago. For the first time since his sorrow he felt the inrushing need of love's sympathy, and with tear-dimmed eyes he mutely held out his arms. Louis flew into the proffered em

many that loved the ground you walked on. I cried my eyes out night after night ... an

e thoughtlessness, regretted many a time since. I did it, and there's the en

t is in the right place. I'm not going to tell you all that was said about y

through my experiences and did not show himself ten times b

u," said Louis, gent

rthur lightly, "would you

s. But say, what adventures you must have had! I've got to hear the whole story, mind, from the first chapter to the last. You are to come

g and fishing and prospecting; not to mention love adventures of the tenderest sort. I feel pleasant t

shiver while I begged you to go on. And the room is just the same, for all the new things have the old patt

I hope they may not tire you in the telling. Mother ... t

e now, yes. But one

of the Monsignor's stamp. Tha

," said Louis, tak

hungry for loving intimacy with this fine lad, and stammered in his

ed, and petted Arthur's hands. "I always had to do as you said, and was glad to b

ther when she came later in the day, and welcomed him as a mother would a dear son. A nun accompanied her, whose costume gave him great surprise and some irritation. She was a frank-faced but homely woman, who wore her religious habit with distinction. Arthur felt as if he were in a chapel while she sat by him and studied his face. His mother did the talking for him, com

ot neglected your

lcome his nephew. In the narrow world of the Endicotts the average mind had not strength enough to conceive of a personality which embraced in itself a prize-fighter and a state senator. The terms were contradictory. True, Nero had been actor and gladiator, and the inference was just that an American might achieve equal distinction; but the Endicott mind refused to consider such an inference. Arthur Dillon no longer found anything absurd or impossible. The s

ed him a colonel. Thin he kem home an' wint fightin' the boss o' the town, so they med him a senator. It was all fightin' wid him, an' they say he's at it yet, though he luks so pleasant all the time, he must find it healthy. I don't suppose thim he's fightin' wid finds it as agreeable. Somewan must git the batin', ye know. There's jist the differ betune men. I

. The first impression he made was that of the man. The powerful and subtle essence of the man breathed from him. His face and figure had that boldness of line and depth of color which rightly belong to the well-bred peasant. He was well dressed, and handsome, with eyes as soft and bright as a Spaniard's. Arthur was overcome with delight. In Lo

uld be complete if he lived to see you a man. He died, but I live to see it, an' to welcome you back to your own. The Dillons are dying out. You

ical honors. The Senator beamed with the delight of a man who f

u see where I stand outside. But there's one thing about politics very hard, the enemy don't spare you. If y

Arthur. "You ought to have told them that no one ne

ucation. I never knew the emperors did any ring business. What a sock

done with fig

situation would have been improved if the Sena

do with politics, an' regular all my sins are retailed in the papers. But one thing they can never say: that I was a liar or a thief. An' they can't say that I ever broke

raid of any man on earth, or that you ever hurt the helpl

justify himself even before this sinner, because his dead brother and his sister-in-law had

r, pressing the hand which still held h

nd I'll willingly punch the head

me in me fightin' days, an' makin' your dear mother mad by threatenin' to go into the ring yourself? Why; you had your own fightin' gear,

but I never thought h

neral wildness was born in you an' me. Look into his face an' you'll see it. Fine? The boy hasn't his li

er be," said Ar

ught you yours, if you want to take it.

anything wit

, if I ask how things stood with

ssed in trying to do something for me, then I withdraw. Speak right ou

Californy straight an' square, so that nothin' could

as a die

ecretary to the chief an' so get acqu

if you can wait till I am a

proudest man in the state to

g," said

An' I can tell from your talk that you have education

te conversation with his nephew the Senat

till more will they wish to give him the right hand of fellowship when they learn that he is about to enter on a political career. Now, why not save time and t

the new relationships; and it would save time in the business of renewing old acquaintance. They took up the work eagerly. The old house had to be refitted for the occasion, his mother had to replenish a scanty wardrobe, and he had to dress himself in the fashion proper to Arthur Dillon. Anne's taste was good, incli

ung and danced his way into the hearts of his friends, who had been a wit for a boy, bubbling over with good spirits, an athlete, a manager of amateur minstrels, a precocious gallant among the girls, a fighter ever ready to defend the weak, a tireless leader in any enterprise, and of a bright mind,

felt confident that Horace Endicott had fairly disappeared beneath the new man Dillon. His figure had filled out slightly, and had lost its mournful stoop; his face was no longer wolfish in its leanness, and his color had returned, though melancholy eyes marked by deep circles still betrayed the sick heart. Yet the figure in the glass looked as unlike Horace En

e aristocrat. His smooth face was insolent with happiness and prosperity, with that spirit called the pride of life. But for what he knew of this man, he could have laughed at his self-sufficiency. The mirror gave back a shrunken, sickly figure, somewhat concealed by new garments, and the eyes betrayed a poor soul, cracked and seamed by grief and wrong; no longer Horace Endicot

himself, whoever he might be, some one seemed struggling for release, or expression, or dominion. He interpreted it promptly. Outwardly, he was living the life of Arthur Dillon, and inwardly that Arthur was making war on Horace En

porridge, and had since done their own washing and baking for a time. Only a practised eye could have distinguished them from their sisters born in the purple. Mona was a beauty, who earned her own living as a teacher, and had the little virtues of the profession well marked; truly a daughter of the gods, tall for a woman, with a mocking face all sparkle and bloom, s

ady. "This is not a society affair. It's an affair of the clan. The Dillons and their frien

return to life and home and friends, they wrung his hands, wept over him, and blessed him until their warm delight and sincerity nearly overcame him, who had never known the deep love of the humble for the head of the clan. The Senator was their benefactor, their bulwark and their glory; but Arthur was

she looks," they s

Louis, "for priest is written all over him,

Mona. "Wirra, an' to think she'd lo

the splendor of the mother and the son, and the beauty of the old house made over new. After

tocracy now, the hig

at the superior insolence of the returned Dillon. Reminded of the story that he had returned a wealthy man, many of them lingered. With these visitors however came the pillars of Irish society, solid men and dignified women, whom the Senator introduced as they passed. There were three emphatic moments which impressed Arthur Dillon. A hush fell upon the chattering crowd one instant, an

enator in a whisper, "is worth

secretary. He would have left at once but that the Senator whispered something in his ear; and presently the two went into the hall to receive the third personage of the evening, and came back with him, deeply impressed by the honor of his presence. He was a short, stocky man, of a military bearing, with a face so strongly marked as to indicate a certain ferocity of temper

end. Then came a dance in the garden for the young people, and the school-friends of Arthur Dillon made demands upon him for the entertainment of which his boyhood had given such promise; so he sang his songs with nerve and success

ht," said Louis at parting, "

e, and changes were accepted as the natural result of growth. They took him to their heart without question. He was loved. What Horace Endicott could not command with all his wealth, the love of his own kin, a poor, broken adventurer, Arthur Dillon, enjoyed in plenty. Well, thank God for the good fortu