The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1905-12-02

| likely to keep you for several weeks
longer. In the three weeks Of your alb
sence you have written me four letters,
| and those have evidently been an unwel-
come task. Do you guess what I am go
ing to say? l wish were sure you
| knew, that l might be saved the pain of
writing the words. l think you have
found out that you do not care for me in
the way you thought you did, and your
sense OF honor alone is keeping you to
the letter of your engagement to me.
have reasons of which you know nothing
for believing this to be the case; so we
have both made a mistake and that, if
you are willing, our engagement had bet
ter come to an end.
please don't think I blame you in
any way; it was only one of those mis-
takes that everybody is liable to make.
Ever your sincere friend,
ETHEL MALLETT."
Poor Ethel! How she cried over that
letter! How she hoped against hope that
Jack might not be willing to end the
engagement! How carefully she read the
words through to be sure that she had
| not definitely settled the matter-that,
In fact, she had done only what she in
tended-given Jack chance of accept
ing his freedom if he wished for it!
Had the matter-of-fact little epistle
arrived at a more favorable moment,
| had Jack had leisure to read between the
lines and discover the wounded pride
and self-respect that had dictated every
| word, his manhood might have asserted
itself in Etheps favor. AS it was Jack
read the letter impatiently at first, but
as its meaning dawned upon him he
turned back to the top Of the leaf and
| read it again, assured himself of the I'M
equivocal nature Of the offer of freedom,
thrust it into his pocket and went off
whistling enegetically to meet Miss Mall
ing at the station on her return from
town.
Pauline saw at glance that some
thing had happened, and, knowing what
she knew, guessed shrewdly what that
something was. She had not been five
minutes in Jacks society before she felt
a subtle difference in his manner toward
her.
Il am SO glad to find you still here,
MIR. Dornton," she said at luncheon,
glancing at him bewitchingly between the
leaves of a palm plant. eve were so
afraid that you would not have been able
to endure fortnight of this terribly dull
place. Weren't we, Mrs. Sefton?"
you forget that Mr.. Dornton has
had real occupation to make the dull
ness endurable. His life is not passed in
killing time, as yours is, DEAR"
ITO be sure. 1 had forgotten to ask
how the pictures have progressed"
''The view of the house from the
woods is finished as far as 1 can finish
it here. The rest of the work l must do
in Newman street.
''That is where your studio is, is it
| not? l should like to see some of your
completed pictures. Will you ask us up
some day to look at them?'
"Any day you please. Say the day
after tomorrow"
II cannot go back to dusty London
again so soon. l expect my first batch
| of visitors on that day, too. At last I
| shall be able to do something in the way
| of entertaining you, Mr.. Dornton, and
| show my gratitude to you for enlivening
| our solitude in the past"
"You are too kind. But l have made
| arrangements for returning to town to-
morrow"
Nonsense. You speak of arrange
ments in such a serious way that one
might imagine you had wife and chill
/ dren; instead of which you are the en-
viable creature-a man without a tie"
| She paused an instant, dreading his
| reply. He made none; but a dull red
| crept slowly up his face to the roots of
his hair. She read this sign to suit her
self, and went on:
"That being the case, as you have no
| one to claim your presence as a right,
| why not favor me with it as pleasure?
| l should advise you to stay, Mr.. Dorm
ton. There are some really charming
people coming on Thursday whom you
should know"
| Mrs. Seton was the embodiment of
discretion, very model for lady-com-
panions. She walked away, and Jack
followed Miss Mailing to the picture
gallery.
They were standing in front of the
easel on which Jack had placed his paint
| ing Of Mallingford House. 1t was a
charming picture.
| "You must do me a copy of this, Mr..
Dornton," said Pauline, las a memento
of that first morning when l found you
asleep in the wood"
1 "And awakened me!'
| The words were simple enough, but
Jack threw great deal of expression
into them, and his eyes conveyed world
of meaning. Miss Mailing flashed
glance at him as she asked:
| did / wake you? It was quite unin-
territorial on my part"
And involuntary on mine"
Pauline, fearing that the conversation
was getting beyond her control, turned
quickly and caught up the first picture
that came to her hand from the open
portfolio.
As was to be expected, Jack had spent
many of his spare hours during the last
lonely fortnight in painting her portrait
from memory: and it was this that she
caught up in her nervous haste.
"Oh, Mr.. Dornton!" she exclaimed, in
rapturous tones. Even her vanity was
satisfied, and she blushed genuinely at
the lovely picture Jack had made or her.
II am sorry you found saar. You will
L ~h~v