Morris tribune., 1895-11-13
CHAPTER <.

did, he did not know that she who wa
the subject of it, with her quick, intui
tive sense, fully realized the seriousness
of that struggle and suffered, doubt
less, as keenly as he did himself. Fo
the sergeant knew that in allowing he
to go he had voluntarily relinquishet
that career in which he had distin
guished himself and through which hi
had hoped to rise in her majesty S serv
ice He felt himself dishonored in hi!
own eyes. He felt-so palpable a thins
was his sense of duty-that he was act
ing treacherously to that officer under
whose command he now was He die
not try to soothe his conscience, as many
of his comrades might have done, by
telling himself that the brutal and de,
moralizing conduct of this officer was
such that many good men who had en-
tered the force with the determination tc
walk straight and rise in it had become
so disheartened and their sense of duty
SO perverted that to disobey this officer s
often questionable commands was nei-
ther considered disgrace nor breach Of
duty. 1t was not the mere loss in a
worldly sense that troubled him; this
disregard of himself was indeed what
had kept him comparatively poor man.
He did not attempt to defend his con,
duct by telling himself that he had sac
riiced his career for his great pity for
her-which, indeed, was partly the case
for in his conduct he was conscious of
a feeling which, if it did not altogether
partake of that which some men call
''the unselfshness Of love- still did
not Justify him in acting as he did. For
he knew that allowing her to go meant
that she would in all probability meet
with her father and warn him of the
presence of the police, defeat The ends
of justice and bring discredit On him
self. 1t meant that when his term OF
service had expired in a few months
from then, he must look out for some
other employment. He could not remain
in a force that he could not be faithful
to- He had little money; by working
hard and with economy he might even
be in a position to start ranching in a
humble way.
At times he told himself that he was
a fool and asked himself what this gir7
was to him. If she had entertained any
respect or thought for him, would she
have asked him to as good as sacrifice
himself for her? But when he thought
Of frail girl going out alone at mid
night upon the bleak and blizzard haunt
ed prairie, where death might spring up
and claim her at any moment, with the
faint hope of warning an erring father
from his danger, he felt that to thwart
such noble if natural deed were a
crime that more than outweighed all
other considerations. No, he was hui
man, but he would again do as he had
done if he had occasion to. Yes, even
If he knew-and. when he came to
think of it, she had given him no sign
either one way or another-he were
nothing to her, and, admitting himself
in love with her, he were pursuing an
ignis fatuus.
AS for Marie ST Denis, if she thought
at all about the risk she was running in
going out as she did upon the prairie
weightier considerations. True, she
knew something of the treacherous ma
ture of the blizzard-how for awhile it
will die away, and the sun or moon will
shine out brightly again, only to DE
suddenly obscured as the 6reacherous,
snow laden wind swoops down, like
bird of prey, to seize its hapless victim
unawares. She remembers how, only
last winter, q mounted policeman had
been caught thus-how be had wandered
round about in that fatal and mysteri-
Gus circle, until the singing, icy blast
proved too much for him, and with the
waning of hope came that wavering of
mind and responsibility over ones
own actions which, let us believe, God
sends in his mercy When his frozen
body had been found, some days after
ward, there was a bullet wound in his
head and discharged pistol by his side
He had anticipated death. Though Ma
RE was no fatalist, she was only WON
an who was as sensitive as any other to
the terrors that encompass death and
the mysterious unseen world, but she
was heroine in the truest sense of the
word, in that she did not hesitate to
brave death and its terrors SO that she
might perform faithfully what she con-
sidered her duty.
There was only one thing that trou-
oled her, and the more she thought of
it the more she saw that in her anxiety
to save her father she had imposed
sacrifice on another. She was now pain
fully alive to the fact that, in his chiv-
alrous desire to serve her, Harry Yorke
had sacrificed his worldly career, and,
what was doubtless dearer to him, his
own sense Of honor and duty. Why had
she asked him to compromise that sense
of honor? Could she not have simply
left the possibility Of his noninterference
to that vague but ofttimes favorable
influence men call "chance, and thus
have saved himf She knew that he was
a man looked up to and respected by all |
ranks in his calling. but that. in asking |