Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1898-12-08
CHAPTER XIII.

bead Of the road leading from one of
bhe cup shaped hills to the fazenda Ri
{ardo in S. Paula de Muriahe, in the
province of Rio Janeiro. He wore a
lhort, white coat and nankeen trousers
a blue scarf, loosely knotted, showed
few inches of darkly tanned throat. A
vide leafed straw hat, evidently of
brazilian manufacture, was pulled over
his eyes. Even in shadow the eyes were
Enthusiastically Donald Sefain's
He pulled in his horse and remained
lost in study of the scene while the
sunlight of Brazilian January bathed
MIN in an intense food
On every hand as far as the eye could
zee the land was PROSTATE under the
5tare of pitiless sky. There was no
9hadow near him save that of his horse
ind his own broad hated figure. Half
way down the hill one bushy headed
balm and the prongs of some cacti lay
patterned sharply on the bare and daz-
ling earth. Below, in the middle dis
ance, he saw the fazenda, the ugly fac
(ory, the unsheltered square and cluster
IF outbuildings Behind him lay the
waving line of hills on which the coffee
shrubs fourished and from which the
soft, monotonous chant and quavering
pf the negroes came to him.
This scene made his life-the coffee
bearing hills, the unsheltered road lying
between them. Ugly, arid, lonely, were
the words that rose in his mind as he
paused there. The very truth and force
bf the artist in him made his heart rise
In hot revolt. Hatred and longing were
IN his steady gaze.
In few moments another rider came
put of the plantation and drew up be-
Side him. He was big, fair haired
man, his light blue eyes strange anon
aly in his SIENNA brown face. When he
spoke, his broad, musical accent con-
lured vision of English fields on a
Spring morning instead of the hot.
3lothful land blazing around him.
Waiting for me, Sefain?"
"No, was thinking. knew you'd
Follow"
The Englishman looked at him, hest
Gated and at length spoke:
"Sefain, you're making hard fight
nere, aren't your He asked the ques-
zion abruptly as they moved on at a
crawling pace.
"Why?' and Donald's uncommuni-
pative soal, aroused to interest, looked
for a moment speculatively from his
brilliant eye.
"Oh, | can see it. You hold your
tongue better than any man I've ever
-,
This contrary world. But know you
are simply sicl,ening for sight of home
and some woman.
The words sent dark flush up DON
ald's cheek and his silence was cold.
Fact But don't suppose I'm trying
10 force your confidence, my boy. I" He
laid his hand on Donald's wrist. Il
speak this way, because-well, because
I'm deuccd sorry for YOU
You're wasting your pity then.
What the devil do you mean? One
would think I'd been playing the part
Of q sentimental fool.
"Hold on, mi amigo Let not the
tnglez' quarrel and set bad example to
these brown beggars here, and an inn
perturbable smile distended Armitage's
full cheeks. ~ haven't finished I'm
sorry, and I'm envious at the same time.
God To be not yet 30 and in love. To
know the world-only in one pair Of
eyes and comprehend heaven in the
5ouch of five slim fingers. What would
not l give to feel this, tell myself fond
y was fool and be glad was! Hug
your misery, my boy. Be such fool.
Some day, maybe, when you're like me
hnd not living thing is really neces-
sary to you, when you know only the
sleek and deadly level of practical self
content, you'll remember and wish the
tongings which tear you now could
come again and hurt you. That man
only is blest whose happiness depends
Upon another human being"
Donald looked at him in amazement.
He had never heard words like these
from Armitage They touched him too.
Over his lean, brown face dreaminess
stole and just as they crossed the fan
ike shadow OF the solitary palm upon
the roadway he moved his companion S
hand from his wrist and gripped it.
"Armitage, he said, reused for the
moment ont of his self reserve, 81 al
most wish, then, you could love wom-
an as miserably, as passionately, per-
haps as hopelessly, as 1 do She is the
desire of my life and its greatest good. :"
II knew it. The signs never fail
And now l want to talk to you. We
might as we'll here as at the fazenda
why don't you sell out to me or to
Morgan, take what you've made and 60
homer
"Home?" echoed Donald, unable to
repress the note of hope and yearning in
his voice at sound of that sweet word.
'Why?"
"Do you think this''-with a con-
temptuous gesture toward the group Of
low, tiled roof buildings and the bare
and-"pays for the pair in the heart?
JAS for the money you make, it's not
much for the struggle. The days are
gone when big fortunes were made in