Omaha daily bee., 1902-12-26

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she said. taking a chair by the hreside.
There was only one lamp in the room and
its light scarcely reached her face.
But for all the good he did in coming
II would seem that he might as we'll have
stayed away. for he had no comfort to ofer
her. He drew forward a chair and sat
down with that square slowness Of move
ment which IL natural to the limbs Of men
who deal exclusively with nature and ac-
tion. and he looked into the FIRE without
saying a word. Again Il was she who
spoke and her words surprised the man
who had only dealt with women at sea,
where women are not seen at their best.
Il do not want you to grieve for me-"
she said quietly. you have enough
trouble OF your own without thinking OF
me. You have lost your friend . " .
and your ship"
, He made a little movement of the lips
and glanced at her slowly. He held his
lip between his teeth, as he was won't to
Lold IL during the moments OF suspense be-
fore letting 20 the anchors in a crowded
roadstead as he stood at his post on the
forecastle head awaiting the captains sig
nal. She was the first to divine what the
ship had been to him. Her eyes were wait
ing for his. They were alight with a gen
tie glow. which he took to be pity. She
spoke calmly and her voice was always
low and quiet. But he was quite lure that
her heart was broken and the thought
must have been conveyed to her by the
silent messenger that passes to and fro be-
tween kindred minds, for she Immediately
took up his thought.
1T is not" she said, rather hurriedly,
las II 1t would break my heart. Long ago
I used TO think II would. l was very
proud Of him and of his-popularity. But"
And she said no more, but sat with
dreaming eyes looking into the ERE. After
a long pause she spoke again.
so you must not grieve for me" she
said. returning persistently to her point.
she was quite simple and honest. Hers
was that rare wisdom which is given only
to the pure in heart. for they see through
into the soul Of man and sift out the honest
from among the false.
1t seemed that she had gained her object,
for stokes was visIbly relieved. He told
her many things which he had withheld
from other inqulrers. He cleared Dixon's
good name from anything but that liability
TO error which is only human, and spoke OF
the captains splendid nerve and steadiness
In the hour Of danger. Insensibly they
lapsed into a low-voiced discussion of
Dixon as of the character of a lost friend
equally dear to them both.
Then he rose to take his leave before II
was really necessary to go in order to
catch his train, impatient to meet her eyes
which were waiting for his-for a mo-
ment as they said goodbye; as the man
who Is the slave Of a habit waits impa-
tiently for the time when he can give way
to 1t.
H vent home to the room he always oc-
cupied near his club in London. There he
found a number OF letters which had been
sent on from the steamship company's
once. The first he opened bore the post
mark Of St. Just In Cornwall. 1t was from
the coast guard captain of that remote
western station, and IL had been originally
posted to st. Kerverne.
Dear sir" he wrote. zone Of your crew
or passengers has turned up here on foot.
He must have been wandering about for
nearly a week and is destitute. At times
his mind is unhinged. He began to write
a letter but could not finish 1t and gives
no name. Please come over and identify
him. Meanwhile / will take good care Of
him"
Stoke opened the folded paper which had
dropped from the envelope.
Dear Jack" 1t began. One or two
StuttHCeS lOllONtus pul lhblO a NJ Y
Quence or sense In them. The writing
was that Of Captain Dixon without its
Characteristic hrmness or cohesion.
Stoke glanced at bis watch and took up
his bag-a new bag hurriendly bought in
Falmouth stuffed full of a few necessities
pressed upon him by kind persons at st.
Keverne when he stood among them in
the clothes In which he had swum ashore,
which had dried upon him during q long
November night. There was Just time to
catch the night mail to PenSAnce. Heaven
was kind TO him and gave him no time to
think.
The coach leaves P~enzance at . in the
morning for a two-hours' climb over bare
moorland to st. Just-a little gray, emote
town on the western sea. The loneliness OF
the hills is emphasized here and there by
the ruin OF an abandoned mine. st. Just
Itself, the very acme of remoteness-is
yearly diminishing in Importance and pop
~ulation, sending forth her burrowing sons
to those places in the world where silver
and copper and gold are found.
The coast-guard captain was awaiting
Stokes arrival in the little deserted square
where the PenEance omnibus deposits its
| passengers. The two men shook hands
with that subtle and silent fellowship
WnlCn draws together bcunneh VI Gil
classes and all nations. They walked
away together on matters Of their daily
business.
HE doesn't pick up at ALL" said the
coast guard captain at length; lust sits
mum all day. My wife looks after him.
but she can't stir him up. II anybody
could she could"
And the man walked on looking straight
In front OF him with a patient eye. He
spoke with unconscious feeling.
He is a gentleman despite the clothes
he came ashore in. Getting across TO the
southern states under a cloud as likely as
not" be said presently. Some bank
manager perhaps. He must have changed
clothes with some forecsstle hand. They
we're seamen's clothes and he had been
sleeping or hiding in a ditch"
He led the way TO his house. standing
apart in the we'll kept garden of the sta
ton. He opened the door Of the simply
furnished drawing room.
Here As a friend come to see you he
said, and standing aside he invited Stoke
by a silent gesture OF the head to pass in.
A man was sitting in front Of the fire
with his back toward the door. He did