Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1897-05-20
AS Yorke uttered these words grew


his eyes, but all fear had left me. Yorke's
eyes burned with fierce, unholy flame, and
looked back to them cold, still, unfear-
ing. Then fash of sunlight shot across
our path. The lake waters shimmered
under its golden touch; the drops from
the lifted oars fell like jewel-hames ACROSS
| its still and rippleless surface, and sud-
| denly, without word or warning, a long,
| reverberating echo shook the silence as
with thunder Darby's cry of terror echo
ed my own. Yorke half sprang to his
| feet, but the rowing girl pushed him back
to his place.
"Pistol!' she said, with a broad grin.
| "Only pistol. People shoot him. And
| straightway from under the seat she pro-
duced an old rusty looking blunderbuss,
and began to jabber away in her uncouth
dialect with the greatest huency, | un-
| derstood afterwards that it was the Gus
! tom to let off a pistol at this spot.
| The child was trembling in my arms.
Her fears helped to subdue my own. l
soothed her. and held her closely to my
side while still the boat glided on, and
| finally shot up to little promontory on
the east shore, and there stopped. Oh, the
| delight of touching land again! sprang
|
still. Then | turned to Yorke, my face
and eyes one blaze of Indignation.
''How dared you speak so to me?"
cried, passionatcly. 1T was cruel, cow
ardly, brutaiv'
yes" he said, sit was. But I don't
think you would have minded if | had
carried out my. threat
| you must not be cruel to Jo," said
| Darby, lifting up that pure, calm face of
hers rebukingly. $50 is very good, and
you are not And you made her cry last
night and she was very ill. / do not
like her to cry, and l will tell Sir Ralph
| if you veX her.
Yorke's brow grew very black.
| Leave the child here for moment, "
he said, "and walk on with me. We are
bound to have it out sooner or later. The
| present time is as good as any. Do not be
alarmed. I shall not hurt you. The
the murder mood has passed"
Il am not afraid of you or anything
you can do" l answered, quietly, as
unlinked the child's hands from mine and
| led her to a seat beneath the trees. "But
! you are right | must know why you have
behaved like this-why you have forced
me into such Il position. Your presence
| here is an insult to your uncle, and your
| pretended friendliness disgrace to both.
1t is unmanly and cowardly to revenge
yourself Oh me by acting as you have
! chosen to act
| We moved on, just near enough to keep
| the child in sight, but far enough to be out
| of hearing.
IF you had only waited" began Yorke
-"if you had only trusted, or if | had
not let my brutal temper get the better
of me! Joan, why did you marry my
uncle?'
He was so good l cried family; $50
unselfsh, and he helped us in such sore
straits. He saved Darby's life-he has
rescued father from ruin, and-and he
loved me-"
yes" answered Yorke gloomily; 81 al
ways told you that, and | always knew I
should have 10 chance against him in the
long run. You women want so much
| an ideal so spotless, a physical man with
the soul and nature of an angel. All! if
| you only knew our trials, and snares, and
temptations! We fail you in weak mo-
ment, and then you are relentless. Joan,
would you have married had you not
ceased to believe in me?'
"No," said brokenly; you know that. -
'Well,' said Yorke, II wonder who has
been most to blame-you or l? Not that
it matters much now. The mischief's
done-irreparab done. Joan, l wonder
if you believed loved your
YES" l answered unsteadily; Il did.
That made it all the worse
| "And now?' he said, and that old hate
full sheer was on his lips. ''Now, of
course, we are to be yirtuous and good
to go away, to turn our backs on each
| other, and on all that makes life worth
living. Is that to be the program? Play
| at friendship and decorum in appropriate
! fashion; lock up memory and it's treasures
like an emptied box that one losses into
a lumber room. Do you think that's an
adequate description, Joan?'
1T will do" l said, trembling like a
leaf.
l turned back; went down the rough
path; took the Child hand in mine, and
stumbled like blind thing down to the
waters edge
''Take me homer l cried wildly to Sir
| Ralph as we met face to face. ooh, take
me home! This place is horrible. 1t ter
rifles me. / can't hear any more of it
| l can't indeed!
| And he hundred me-
He said no word, asked no questions,
but | heard his calm and CHEEKY voice
talking to Darby, and it's tones insensibly
soothed my Jared and trembling nerves,
and the wild, hysterical terror subsidized.
Swiftly and surely the boat glided on
amidst the golden warmth and color of
the day, but II sat there with hidden
face and trembling limbs, deaf and blind
to the beauty and the stiffness, and the
peace, only praying over and over again
in some drear, hopeless way.
"Help me to bear it, o Heaven! Help
mech, help me to bear it!'
| Go be coutinued)
| The Secret OF Slack-wire Walking.