Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1888-11-10
of ANYBODY else. Then he tried again, and
CHAPTER XXXII.
IUTTUl
A friend :
TOO LATE.

It was the afternoon of the Wednesday
that the steamer Salvador was to sail. But
Philip Breton and the woman he had hoped
to save were yet in their house in Breton
vile, hundreds of miles from the pier. The
clock in Bertha's drawing room had struck
three. 1t was the very hour; the last bell
must be ringing now, and friends were say
ing their farewell words, handkerchiefs were
waving graceful atlieuX, with here and there
teardrop. Home seemed very sweet at this
moment of separation, and dreams Of joys in
strange lands seemed too vague to comfort
many heart that had been light and merry
till now
Philip had not slept these two nights for
anxiety The very air had seemed so full of
danger he had feared the storm would burst
upon them before today. New, haggard
lines had come into his face. He had watched
all the countenances of the villagers for signs
and warnings. Would his enemies give him
time? Well, they had given him time and
yet he waited
He had driven to every train for his old
friend Philbrick, but he had failed him. He
had strained his blood shot eyes so eagerly
last night to make him out of the solitary
arrival on the evening train. If the old man
had known how much depended on him, he
would surely have fastened. Philip dared
not trust his mills in any hands but his. The
old man would be gentle with his charge; he
was patient, he had broader ideas than
Philip Breton, he was less of an aristocrat.
And his mills were very dear to Philip-only
less dear than his wife. Perhaps the old man
might come yet before the next steamer
sailed, but there We're three long days for his
terrible secret to work its way to the light
three long, dark nights for blow to fall.
Philip found Bertha in the drawing room.
waiting for him. The excitement that
flushed her face seemed to have smoothed out
the lines of care, her eyes were brighter than
love for him had ever made them. She
seemed grown young as the first day in the
garden she had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
How the poor girl longed to go. He stood
a moment before her, and love and sorrow
swept over his soul in alternate waves She
was his beautiful wife, who looked to him for
her only protection. And out of pity for the
mob that had insulted her he had let slip,
perhaps, his last hope of saving her. What
did the wretches deserve? Yet perhaps he
had sacrificed his wife to them Perhaps this
delay would make those sweet, eager eyes
weep forever; that queenly, gold crowned
head bow in humiliation. How the world
would wonder that he had not saved her from
a felon's cell, with such wealth and power as
his to command. He had risked her saliva
ton to soften the fate of the thousand un-
grateful creatures in his mill who cared
nothing for him. ..
"Oh, Bertha, forgive mer' he cried as il
his heart broke that moment. All his hope
seemed dead then; the waters of deSolation
were sweeping in ceaseess swelling waves
over his soul.
For a moment the woman looked at him in
silence, trying to interpret for herself the
meaning ON his wan, passion marked face.
1t was for him the supreme moment of an
agony such a soul as hers could not even con-
ceive of The man suffered more in that mo-
ment, than the foulest dungeon in the world.
or the SCOTS of city rabble, or the contempt
of every woman that ever spoke her name
could hurt her. Then she drew herself back
from him; she thought, poor creature, she
understood the expression on his face. g,
"Then you have missed the steamer, and
YOU knew, too, how much | wanted to 60"
He did not speak, but a pitiful look OF con
fusion was struggling into his face.
"When can we go, thenp she asked coldly.
! oThe next steamer sails Saturday" Sat