The Lebanon express. (Lebanon, Linn County, Or.) 1887-1898, 1896-06-25

A different thought wus III the hus.
bands mind. "Ilut what assurance have
that you arc going on with the dep
uty?" he said, with purposely insulting
deliberation,
My word, sir" said Capt. pinckney,
sharply.
"And II that amt enuff, there's
mine" said the deputy. For " This
gentleman swcrves to the right or lett
betwixt this and Santa Inez. I'ltblow
hole through HIM i;,yscltl And that"
he added, dcprccatmgly. sis sayings
good deal for man who doesn't want
to spoil sport, and, for the matter OF
that, is willing to stand by and see fair
play done at Santa Inca any time to-
morrow before breakfast"
"Then can count on you7" said
Clarence. with q sudden impulse, ex-
tending his hand.
The man hesitated moment and
then grasped 1t. swell, / wasn't ex-
pecting that" he said, slowly; "but you
look as IL you meant business, and II
you amt got anybody else to see you
through, I'm thar lsuppose this gen
tleman will have his fricnds?"
~ shall be there at six with my sec
onds," said Pinckney, curtly. LEAD
on"
The gate closed behind them. Clar-
ence looked around the now empty
patio, and the silent house, from which
he could now see that the servants had
been withdrawn to insure the secrecy
of the gathering. Cool and collected as
he knew he was, he stood still for a
moment in hesitation. Then the sound
o. voices came to his ear from the gar
den room, the light frivolity of Susy's
laugh, and Hooker's huskier accents.
He had forgotten they were there-he
had even forgotten their existence.
Trusting still to his calmness, he
called to Hooker in his usual voice.
That gentleman appeared with face
which his attempts to make meon-
cerned and impassive had, however,
only deepened his iunereal gravity.
81 have something to attend to-"
said Clarence, with faint smile, "and
] must ask you and Susy to excuse me
for little while. She knows the house
perfectly, and will call the servants
from the annex to provide you 10th
with refreshments. ! will Join you q
little later" Satisfied from Hooker's
manner that they knew nothing Of his
later interview with PiRckney he
turned away and ascended to his own
room.
! He then threw himself into an arm
chair by the dim light Of single candle
as II to reflect, but he was conscious,
even then, of his own calmness and
want of excitement, and that no re-
Election was necessary. What he had
done and what he intended to do was
quite clear; there was no alternative
suggested, or to be even sought after.
He had that sense Of relief which
comes with the climax Of all great
s.ruggles--eyen Of defeat. He had
never known before how hopeless and
continuous had been that struggle un-
til now it was over. He had no fear for
tomorrow; he would meet it as he had
to-day with the same singular con-
seriousness Of being equal to the occa-
sion. There was even no necessity of
preparation for it; his will leaving his
fortune to his wife--which seemed q
slight thing now in this greater separa-
tion-was already in his safe in San
Francisco; his pistols were in the next
room. He was even slightly disturbed
by his own insansibility and passed into
his wife's bedroom, partly in the hope Of
disturbing his serenity by some memen.
to of their past. There was no disorder
of light-everything was in its place,
except the drawer Of her desk, which
was still open as If she had taken some
thing from it as an afterthought. There
were letters and papers there-some Of
his own and some in Capt. Pinckney's
handwriting. 1t did not occur to him
to look at them-eyen to justify himself
or excuse her. He knew that his
hatred of Capt, Pinckney was nots
much that he believed him her lover, as
his sudden conviction that they were
alike! He was the male of her species
"a being antagonistic to himself whom
he could fight and crush and revenge
himself upon. But most Of all he
loathed his past, not on account of her,
but OF his own weakness that had made
him her dupe, and o misunderstood man
to his friends. He had been derelict of
duty in his selfish devotion to her; he
had stifled his ambition, and under
rated his own possibilities--no wonder
that others had accepted him at his own
valuation. Clarence Brant was mod
est man, but the egotism of modesty is
more fatal than that Of pretension, for
ii has the haunting consciousness Of su-
iperior virtue.
He reentered his own room ana again
threw himself in his chair. His calm
was being succeeded by . physical
Fweariness; he remembered he had not
slept the night before and he ought to
take some rest to be fresh in the early
morning. Yet he must also show him.
self before his self-inyited guests, Susy
and her husband, or their suspicious