The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1903-04-16

He lay with his hands clasped over his
brow, and ever and anon deep, painful
groans would break from his lips. His
grief was deeper than he could tell, even
in his widest prayers, and his hopes were
all gone. The thing had come upon him
with doubly crushing force, for 1t had
found his soul already bowed down be-
meath the weight of fear. He could have
known that Louise had died, for then he
might have wept awhile, and then calm
ly knelt down and prayed. But now even
that sad and melancholy boon was de-
MED him. Like the frantic mother who
stands and sees the eagle perched upon
the cliff with her shrieking infant, stood
the youth with respect to his beloved.
But, at length, when the first hours af-
ter midnight had come, Goupart sank into
a dull dreamy slumber, and his pains
were for awhile only the phantoms of
sleep.
While Goupart thus lay bordering upon
his terrible misfortune, Simon Lobois
was not alone He was in the chamber
he usually occupied, and with him was
a black slave named Peter. He was q
middle-aged man-Simon's special ser
want, and the only one in the whole
household who had any sympathy for
the dark nephew. Lobois had purchas-
ed him in New Orleans, and though he
had done so only as the marquis agent
yet Peter looked upon the former as his
master. And, moreover, Simon had paid
him various sums Of money to serve him.
Now, Peter" said Simon, after some
other conversation had passed, have you
watched the affair between Goupart and
the marquis, as babe you"
Yes, mas'r; me watch 'um well, an
me hear all. Me foun' de hole you tole
me of in de floor ober de ole mas'r's IL
brary, an me hab watch 'um cherry time
rs got chance"
'And what have you found"
Peter went ON and told a long story
he had heard about letting Simon go.
and about Goupart taking his place
And" uttered the negro, with spark
ling eye as he gave a sort of tiourlshlng
emphasis to the conjunction, mes hearl
one oder ting, berry sartin'; One time
dey feared young masr an missusd neb-
Der cum back, an ole mas'r's gwine to
glib Goupart all his whole fortin'. He'll
hab heaps O. money, eh?'
did he say the whole, PeterY'
HE did sartin, mas'r. An he's plan
ned to glib i'm half of it now. o, tell
We, mas'r Goupart got mitey big hold
onto ole mas'r's pocket, an onto ole
mas'rs Tub, too. Dey's togedder all de
time. Yah-guess ole masr don't s'pect
he'll want you no more"
1t was late in the morning when Simon
T nhniO hiS had
his breakfast served in his own room,
and for some time he had been engaged
in bathing his face. He walked on to the
sitting room, and he found the marquis
and Goupart there.
Monsieur ST. Denis" he said, in low,
icy tone, II would speak with you."
In an instant the young man turned
and followed him. Lobois led the way
to the garden, and there he stopped and
turned.
Monsieur st. Denis" he spoke, while
his eyes flashed and his thin lip trembled,
last night you did what no living man
has ever done before. You struck me in
the face. Ere | leave this place, the
stricken man must be past remembrance
of his shame, or the striker must be not
among the living! You understand!'
Now, Goupart was not in a frame of
mind to endure much, or to argue much
on moral points. His heart was aching
from a horrid wound, and his soul was
tortured by fearful power; and before
him was the serpent who had done 1t all,
who had torn loved children from a dot
ing parent-sundered the brother and sis
ter, and made unhappy the life Of de-
fenseless girl. The young mans eyes
did not flash like his enemy's, but they
burned with a deep, calm fire, such as
utter disgust and abomination add to
fierce hate.
~ think l understand" was st. Denis
reply.
II taught you your first lessons in the
sword exercise, and you were proficient
when l last saw you handle the blade.
Will you now choose that weapon"
YES"
''Then get 1t and join me at once"
Gonupart turned away and went to his
room. He took down his sword, and
buckled the belt about him. Then he
drew the blade, aud for a moment he
gazed upon it. 1t had once been an un-
cle's weapon-the well-tried companion
of Gen. st. Denis, bold and true knight.
1t was of Spanish make, and never yet
had 1t failed in the hour of need. There
was another sword in the room-a lighter
one-a Damascus blade, and Of exquisite
finish, and one, too, with which the youth
had always played But it had been his
fathers swerd, and he would not use it
now. After he had returned the blade
to its scabbard, he stopped a moment to
reflect. Then he moved TO the table,
where an ink horn stood, and tearing a
leaf from his pocketbook, he hurriedly
wrote as follows:
Monsieur lie Marquis-You are my
friend, and you know the few friends |
90