The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1892-09-25
THE SUN, SUNDAY, September D. 1892.
hsrchief in the shadow. and ssptursd hsr re- re;
struggle. and presently hvshed Itself to rcst

: :ssssjss; Harp sss '! / i.s %ss ,s;sss %si5SS 's, m q SId l Is!
was not only A fool: BUT q brute vi he s, said
.,s Thsy beth pan stopped, an IF Ss wHs st ELL h saonnS h tse
Other figure lightly, 9s the iold Of The garmenrtt IT.
and was presumably unIeiS gfis. a mas mas us
t~ionabis. sitaation: in another moment her
fair head might have, dropped upon his s 81 ~.
speakinT through the voice OF the lawyer
,s1,: .s !, e. e M { ! fs sse's 's''' sssii tff il II he '''s s1''f':
They both started. but Mrs. Peyton's, hand
&nddenly woke up and grasped his firmly;
Then she said In a higher but perfectly level
Yes. think with you we had better look at
waiting for us TO Join them and go IN"
~, The :, wholesome o freshness ,ssn Of e eMdEs m s'sansS
and strengthened. Ills resolution had been
made. He would leave the rancho that morn.
i lori else. eisewh hes "S This Was only rleht to her
whose oss,, future rs f. + sh .s;II me never n.t be sqid he had
il. in, a year or two's struggle. he. could prove
his right to address her again. no would re;
t sarsed h IN h tSs s nSs sno Mith e th s's s si%si t 1nsS ss %
written a iiey lines. Of farewell to be given to
LUTON. albeit a little pale and hollow-eysd
the s' s Sasps a swak s,a,ds tn saS ana sniY ! madss h q
way to the stables. Saddling his horse and
mounting he paced forth into the crisp morn.
bringing out the fresh color Of the flower
strewn, terraces. as the last night shadows
Sn'ssh f msl ca nsas a ias tf lsoh " Me The tbsG pSwn e adsse
quadrangle Of tho quiet house. lust touched
S KIP ia the t srSnSIn sSi Of hfhisshs%%nny;. and as sh so 1 pnss:d
the angle Of the old garden he hesitated. but,
s s9ron ne in his rSsSlnntito5n,h ne put 7 ut the the rSs S S1I lee
out c Er,s,ns NJ eyes
She was standing. BEHIND the grille in the vail
ridden to his rendssSons With sasy. Span;
shoulders. as II she. had dressed hastily and
had run out 70 Inherent him while he was
IN, it's black-hooded recess; and there were
faint circles around her lovely eyes; 80
by, r!0 81. w sais ! sG,ps without saying good
She PASSED her slim white. hand between tho
grating: Clarence leaped to the ground.
mol Nqii", she said. STRUGGLING to With
decided dssM ii it to to 5 Be- oet osfy a I Gould . is- net let you aa se
thus-without a word! There ow,,co Clar;;
enc6-go, please. Don't you SEQ I'm behind
these bars2 Think OF them as the years that
separate US. my poor. dear foolish boy: think
Of them as standing between us-growing
closer. heavier. and, more cruel and hopeless
They had been good old bars n hundred md
fifty years ago. when it was thought as neces-
sary to rcpress the innocence that was behind
them as the wickedness that was without.
They had done duty in the convent at
Santa Inez and the monastery Of Santa
Barbara. and had been brought hither
In Governor Micheltorrena's time to keep
the daughters Of Robes from the in
sidious contact OF the outer world when
they took the air in that clustered pleasaunce.
Guitars had tinkled against them in vain and
they had withstood tho stress and siege. of
love.shafts. But like many other. things that
had had their day and time. they had retained
a semblance Of power even while rafting
loosely in their sockets. only because no one
had ever thought OF putting them to the test.
and that morning In the strong hand OF Clar-
ence. assisted perhaps by tho leaning figure
Of Mrs. Peyton. l grieve to say that the whole
grille suddenly collapsed. became. a string OF
tinkling iron. and then clanked. bar by bar.
into the road. Mrs. Peyton uttered a little cry
and drew back. and Clarence leaping the ruins
caught her in his arms.
For a moment only. for she quickly with
light rosy on her cheeks. said grayely. point
you must stay now: for you never could leave
me here alone and defenceless."
The End