The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1903-10-08

| suppose, | am a great coward. L made
up a grand story of being afraid in the
forest. Well, no matter. All the better
isn't it, captainY
"She is as we'll not to know"
"Well l am going, captain. Shall you
be at the rendezvous tomorrow night?
'Hush. do not speak loud. [ cannot
tell. 1t is probable, though. Good night"
And he closed and barred the door be-
hind Gasparde. And returning to the
kitchen, he sank into a seat, with bitter
sigh.
20, for your sake, my poor, innocent
child" he murmured, Il would forsake
this miserable way of life, but | dare
mott dare not!' and he covered his
bowed face. Then, rising and pacing
the room with an unquiet step, he went
on: Poor Rose. to think of the deceit
the crime, that surrounds you! even l,
who should be honest, being the protec-
tor of sinless child like you-even 1
am unfit-ashamed to look in your face.
And you think me a good man! COMPEL
ed to steal out in the dead of night to
scenes of crime and darkness, and then
return to meet your loving, holy kisses,
and listen to your childlike words, that
because their purity shows me my own
guilt in the blacklist hue! O. Rose
Rose to think of the wrongs l have
done and yours the greatestw
The door opened. and, cautiously, prot
ty Rose entered. A quick glance cast
about the room assured her that her dis
agreeable cousin had taken his departure.
She ran joyfully to her fathers side,
exclaiming:
He has really gone, then!
you do not like him, MignonneW
asked her father, tenderly.
Like him?-no, papa, nor ever did.
He is not a pleasant visitor, by any
means. Well, you shall come and eat
some supper. See, it is all ready, and
while you are doing so, will tell you
something"
Let me hear it,
Somebody has been here, papa 1t
was the young Count Louis-the Count
d Artois, papa. He has come to visit
the chateau, as we heard he was about
to do
At this Hugh I.amonte slightly started.
His knife dropped to the floor, and he
quickly stopped to pick it up, exclaiming,
"How careless" Rising, he resumed his
repast.
THE count has been here, Rose? What
did he come here for?'
For shelter"
Hugh Lamonte turned pale.
"Well, Rose-for shelter? You are not
very explicit Shelter from what?' His
tone was hasty and agitated. He SEEM
ed to be aware of it, for he added imme
diately: you must talk both to and for
me, dear child, tonight. and not leave me
anything to do, for you see am fatigued.
Tell me all about it, Rose. What did he
want shelter for, and what did he sayY"
at was raining very hard, you know,
papa" she answered, gently, land he
was journeying to the chateau. He stop
ped until the storm was over"
An hour later Hugh Lamonte paced his
own apartment with stern brow and a
heavy heart, in which a thousand rack
ing and tormenting thoughts rioted. Low
ly and humble seemed his daily life; hon
est and good, though poor, he himself
esteemed, and yet secret sin and years
of hidden anguish and remorse were daily
and hourly cankering in his SOUL Uuder
cover of his constant industry and the
estimation of his neighbors, he led life
of hidden crime. But it was only in the
darkness that he practiced it; only when
he could steal forth and no neighbor was
abroad to watch his steps; and stealing
back again ere the dawn, pass another
day of rustic labor, and await another
night of crime.
Thus it had been for years, and this
was not his worst deed, either. Yet this
man had not always been bad. Away
| back, in the lapse of time, shone forth
/ the light of happy years, and innocent
| thoughts and deeds; of an unstained con-
| science and pure heart; of "a life that
once was sinless. But he dared not look
/ upon these things now. For though he
| had long since sckened of these scenes
of crime, and though he would gladly
have forsaken them, he could not burst
asunder the bonds that held and shackled
! him. He dared not seek separation
from the crew of desperate, lawless men
| who looked to him as their leader.
And the consciousness almost madden
| ed him. There were times when he
would have plunged a thousand degrees
| deeper into vice than ever he had yet
| done, that he might stifie these better
! feeings-these promptings of the yet liv-
| ing monitor within, since they were in
vain; and then it was only the ever-pres-
| ent image of his child that saved him
the memory of her sweet face and inno-
cent life, of her faith and of her love.
| Poor Rose!
1t was this Gasparde-this man whom
we have seen with him to-night-who
planned the last expedition. They Were
Lamonte's men who attacked Louis OAR
tots in the forest; and Gasparde was one
of them. They were defeated, as we have
seen, to the infinite surprise and secret
satisfaction of Hugh, who, while he had