If Any Man Sin

A. Cody H.

Description

Like many of Hiram Alfred Cody's novels, If Any Man Sin is set in the rough-and-tumble frontier of the Canadian Yukon. Clergyman Martin Rutland has been cast out of the church due to bad behavior. He tries to make a fresh start, but finds that his past misdeeds keep catching up to him.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776587810
• Langue: English

Extrait

IF ANY MAN SIN
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H. A. CODY
 
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If Any Man Sin First published in 1915 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-781-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-782-7 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Chords of Memory Chapter II - The Verge of Trembling Chapter III - A Wilderness Waif Chapter IV - By the Mirroring Lake Chapter V - A Cabin for Two Chapter VI - 'Tis Hard to Forget Chapter VII - The Ceaseless Throb Chapter VIII - The Discovery Chapter IX - The Golden Lure Chapter X - The Awakening Chapter XI - Unfolding Chapter XII - The Edge of Events Chapter XIII - The Lap of To-Morrow Chapter XIV - The Supplanter Chapter XV - Suspicion Chapter XVI - Tom Makes a Discovery Chapter XVII - Heart Thrusts Chapter XVIII - The Royal Bounty Chapter XIX - Beginnings Chapter XX - Under Cover of Night Chapter XXI - The Way of a Woman Chapter XXII - Heart Searchings Chapter XXIII - The Meeting Chapter XXIV - Within the Little Room Chapter XXV - The River Flows Between Chapter XXVI - The Face at the Door Chapter XXVII - The Inner Impulse Chapter XXVIII - The Keepsake Chapter XXIX - Atonement Chapter XXX - Revelation Chapter XXXI - The Valley of the Shadows Chapter XXXII - Refined Gold
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TO MY WIFE THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED
Chapter I - Chords of Memory
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It was Sunday night and the great city was hushed in silence. A thickmist hung over streets and houses through which numerous lightsendeavoured to force their rays. Few people were astir and all traffichad ceased. Presently the chimes from a hidden church tower pealed forththeir sweet message to the world. A man standing alone within the shadowof the church started and turned his face upwards. The musical soundsseemed to fascinate him, and he listened as one entranced. He gave noheed to the men and women hurrying by phantom-like on their way to theevening service. Not until the last note had died upon the air did theman abandon his listening attitude. Then his head drooped, his tensebody relaxed, and he stepped back a few paces as if fearful of beingobserved. Twice he started forward, moved by some inner impulse, buteach time he shrank back deeper within the shadow. His strong formtrembled convulsively, telling plainly of a mighty fire of emotionraging within.
The man at length left his place of concealment and paced rapidly up anddown outside the church, with his head bent forward. This he did forsome time. He at last paused, stood for a while in an undecided manner,and then with a stealthy step approached the door. His hand was raisedto the large iron latch when strains of music fell upon his ears. Thenhe heard the sound of numerous voices lifted up in the closing hymn. Hiscourage almost deserted him, and he half turned as if to leave theplace. But some irresistible power seemed to stay his steps and forcehim to open the door and enter.
The church was warm, brightly lighted, and well filled with men andwomen. No one heeded the stranger as he slipped quietly into a back seatand looked around. The trained voices of the white-robed choir thrilledhis soul. Every word of the hymn was familiar to him, for he had oftensung it in days gone by. The congregation, too, was singing, and erelong he distinguished one voice from the rest. He had not heard it atfirst, but now it fell upon his ears with a startling intensity. It wasa woman's voice, sweet, clear, and full of mingled tenderness andpathos. The man's firm white hands clutched hard the back of the seat infront of him, and his face underwent a marvellous transformation. Hiseyes shone with eagerness, and his bosom lifted and fell from thevehemence of his emotion. He leaned forward until he could see thesinger and watched her intently. Then when the hymn was finished, andere the congregation dispersed, the stranger, having cast one morelonging look upon the woman with the sweet voice, slipped noiselesslyout of the building.
Upon reaching the street he stepped aside and waited for the people tocome forth. It was not long ere the big door was thrown wide open, andas the men and women passed by he scrutinised them as closely aspossible. He was watching for one person alone, and presently he saw herwalking by herself. When she had gone a short distance he followedafter, and never once let her out of his sight until she came to a largehouse, the door of which she opened and entered.
For some time the man stood outside, keeping his eyes fixed upon thebuilding. A policeman passing by noted the man, and, mistaking him for avagrant, ordered him away. The stranger's pale face flushed, and hishands clenched as he obeyed the command. Slowly he walked along thestreet with his eyes fixed upon the pavement. At length he paused,retraced his steps, and stood once more before the house into which thewoman had entered. Here he remained until the clock of a nearby churchstruck the hour of eleven. Then, drawing himself together, the manhurried away with rapid steps. Reaching a house on a side street, heopened a door with a latch-key, and passed within. Up three flights ofstairs he moved till he came to a little room on the top floor. Gropingaround in the dark, he lighted an oil lamp fastened to the wall.
It was a humble and scantily furnished garret he had entered. In onecorner was a narrow cot. At its foot stood a wash-stand, over which hunga small cracked mirror. A rough worn table occupied the centre of theroom, upon which rested a well-kept violin lying by its open case.Opposite the door was an open fire-place, and as the night was chillythe man lighted a fire from several dry sticks, and threw on some softcoal. Soon a cheerful blaze was curling up the chimney, before which theman sat on the one rickety chair the room contained and warmed hisnumbed hands.
For over half an hour he remained thus, gazing down intently into thefire. But hotter than the coals before him seemed the eyes which burnedin his head. At last he aroused from his reverie and, crossing the room,opened a small grip and brought forth a carefully-folded newspaperclipping. This he unwrapped, spread it out upon the table, and drawingup his chair sat down. He fixed his eyes upon an article with the bigheadline, "Deposed by His Bishop." A deep flush mantled his cheeks andbrow as he read for more than the thousandth time that story of disgraceand degradation. He had really no need to read it over again, for everyword was seared upon his soul as with a red-hot iron. But the printedwords seemed to fascinate him. The tale was all there in black andwhite, and the newspaper had made the most of it.
But there were things which were not recorded in cold type, and ere longhis eyes drifted from the printed page far off into space. He beheldagain the white-haired bishop sitting in his library, and heard hisvoice tremble as he uttered the words which deposed him forever from theMinistry. Then he recalled his own hot invectives hurled against theChurch, and the vow that he would banish it and its teaching entirelyfrom his heart and mind, and free himself from its influence. Heremembered his scornful laugh when the bishop told him that such a thingwas impossible. "Martin Rutland," he had said in an impressive voice,"you know not what you are saying. Do you imagine that you can cutyourself off from the influence of the Church of your childhood? I tellyou that you are mistaken, for such a thing is utterly impossible. TheChurch and her teaching will follow you to the grave, no matter to whatpart of the world you go." He had laughed at the bishop's words then,thinking them to be only an old man's empty threat.
He lived over again his last visit to his aged parents. It was the daybefore Christmas, and they believed that he had to hurry away to attendthe services in his parish the next morning. Never for a moment did theysuspect him of a single wrong. How proudly they had looked upon him ashe stood before them ere he left the house. He never saw them again, andnow in the loneliness of his barren room, a wretched outcast, buffetedby the world, he bowed his head upon the table and gave vent to hisfeelings in a flood of passionate tears. The whole vision rose beforehim with stinging vividness: his little home and the happy days ofyouth; his bright prospects, and what he would make of life; his parentstoiling and denying themselves to provide for his education. It all cameback to him this night like a mighty rushing torrent. In the excitementof the years of aimless wandering, he had partly stifled the thoughts.But to-night it was impossible. The pent-up stream, which could nolonger be curbed, had given way in one onward sweep, all the greater,and over-mastering because of the restraint of years.
He rose abruptly to his feet and paced rapidly up and down the room. Heknew what had brought upon him this mood. Why had he been so weak as toenter that church? he asked himself. And what was she doing there? Hecould not separate the two. The Church and Beryl were always connected.He recalled the last time he had seen her in his old parish. It was theevening of the day he had said good-bye to his parents. He wished to seeher, but upon approaching her home his courage had failed him. How couldhe look into her face with the great stain upon him? Her large lustrouseyes would have pierced his very soul. She believed him to be true,noble, and upright. But how little was she aware as she sat at the pianothat night, practising the Christmas m