The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1901-11-15

| ~~~.
palms while she gained time to try
and think of something as dramatic
and concise. But her own appearance
did not lend itself to narrative of the
kind. She made a broken murmur,
vague with hints of her own deep
Indebtedness, do instead. Henesly
did not answer; only turned on his
heel and led the way to the landing
steps.
He was there to help her out when
she came back. When she asked ii she
might use the boat next morning ne
told her yes. He explained it to him
self as being proper pride, and that
she should not fancy him afraid. After
a day or two he altered the eXplana-
ton to that it couldn't matter any
way, and often that he did notify to
explain. He let things go. At this
point she fingered, sitting upon the
keel of yawl up for repairs, and
talked about herself in hopeless vein
The ensuing steps were talk about
himself. He responded fairly easily.
and showed his drawings, his tools
and the new gasoline engine band saw
which was his especial pride. He
taught her how to start the engine up,
and to cut along traced lines through
the hardest wood with the toothed
band of steel.
1t was inevita BILE, thereafter, that
they should-having had herself and
himself-come to themselves. Ano
when that happened-it was about
the tenth day of her normal and
healthy" life-much more did as veil.
So that when she started to go at last,
and stood, beautiful, in the midst OF
all the roughness around, his head
went completely, and he caught her
hand against his lips"and held it there.
1t was delight and bliss and temporary
oblivion to him. It was the success OF
an experiment with her, and the point
beyond which she did not mean to 60,
for her wisdom was of this world.
But to Maria, Henesly's Portuguese
wife-who was under the boathouse.
peering up through knothole-it was
rage and jealousy of very savage
kind. She had had her suspicious of
the woman who came SO often and for
so long at break of day, and now she
was verifying them. AS for what they
said, the two, she could neither hear
nor understand all of that. Her Eng
lish was limited. But she saw Henesly
kissing the shapely hand, and there
was nothing incompreheEsible about
that.
If Henesly had had the slightest idea
of what Maria had seen, he would have
been justified in being uneasy and in
recalling the warning Of one of those
poets of his better daya. anent mute
natures which punish you in deeds.
For Maria made no sign at all. She
only waited her time. It came very
soon. That same night Henesly was
called upon to repair the hull of a
launch, and he had to be up until long
past midnight, working with lanterns,
to take advantage of the tide. The
consequence was that he oversight
himself the next day. Maria, however,
When Mrs. Kent came, humming a
snatch of song that she knew would
be calculated to awaken memories in
Henesly, Maria was hidden behind a
pile of lumber in the dark corner
where the gasoline engine was, lying
in wait, with big knife up her sleeve.
Mrs. Kent had no suspicion of that.
She wandered around the boathouse,
playing with various things, and final
ly, as the time grew long, she went
over to the corner and amused her.
self by starting the band-saw up, as
Henesly had shown her how to do.
The gasoline engine began to spit and
hiss, and the shiny contrivances,
whose names she did not know, to clat-
ter and turn. The saw-edged band
itself began to whir so very fast that
it seemed to be quite still. She held
scrap of wood against it and watched
it cut smoothly in two without jar.
When she looked up she could see
Henesly hurry over along the path
through the dunes from his shack.
She stopped playing with the saw, and
stood waiting for him, beginning the
strain of song again. Her hand was
lying close to the moving band. Maria
raised herself up in the shadow and
| looked at it. It was so white, so small,
so near the turning saw. It was the
same hand that Henesly had kissed
the day before.
The whir of the machinery was in
Mrs. Kent's ears. The light of the low
rays falling through the open door
was in her eyes. She did not hear the
boards behind her creak. She did not
see that some one was coming nearer
and nearer, with hot eyes watching
| that white and careless hand.
The engine was splitting and clatter-
ing unconcernedly when Henesly
stepped into the place, and in the
gloomy corner near it, something
white and huddled was on the floor. 1t
was a woman's figure fallen on the
face and with arms thrown out. On
the end of one arm there was hand.
On that of the other-there was none.
Mrs. Kent's tale, to Henesly and to
her husband, was never quite clear.
Perhaps she had moved; perhaps she