se
prescience he wondered, was overborne.

Well, he was for Havana! His cabin on the Morro Castle was secured,
that notable trunkful of personal effects packed; and his father,
greatly to Charles' surprise, outside all women's knowledge, gave him
a small derringer with a handle of mother-of-pearl. He was, now, the
elder told him, almost a man; and, while it was inconceivable that he
would have a use for the pistol, he must accustom himself to such
responsibility. He wouldn't need it; but if he did, there, with its
greased cartridges in their short ugly chambers, it was. "Never shoot
in a passion," the excellent advice went on; "only a cool hand is
steady, and remember that it hasn't much range." It was for desperate
necessity at a very short distance.

With the derringer lying newly in his grasp, his eyes steadily on his
father's slightly anxious gaze, Charles asseverated that he would
faithfully attend every instruction. At the identical moment of this
commitment he pictured himself firing into the braided tunic of a
beastly Spanish officer and supporting a youthful Cuban patriot, dying
pallidly of wounds, in his free arm. The Morro Castle hadn't left its
New York dock before he had determined just what part he would take
in the liberation of Cuba--he'd lead a hopeless demonstration in the
center of Havana, at the hour when the city was its brightest and the
band playing most gaily; his voice, sharp like a shot, so soon to be
stilled in death, would stop the insolence of music.

* * * * *

This was not a tableau of self-glorification or irresponsible youth,
he proceeded; it was more significant than a spirit of adventure. His
determination rested on the abstraction of liberty for an oppressed
people; he saw Cuba as a place which, after great travail, would
become the haunt of perfect peace. That, Charles felt, was not only a
possibility but inevitable; he saw the forces of life drawn up in such
a manner--the good on one side facing the bad on the other. There was
no mingling of the ranks, no grey; simply, conveniently, black and
white. And, in the end, the white would completely triumph; it would
be victorious for the reason that heaven must reign over hell. God was
supreme.

Charles wasn't at all religious, he came of a blood which delegated to
its women the rites and responsibilities of the church; but there was
no question in his mind, no doubt, of the Protestant theological map;