The San Francisco call., 1905-04-09
CHAPTER XIII.
The DcviI's Deal.

an. t1du lnOSe months wrought
Snange IN herr Had She too thought
OF their child? Had the cry he voiced
on the packet that bore him from Eng
land struck an answering chord in
herZ he opened it's cover An in
closure dropped out.
lie picked il up blankly. 1t was the
note he had penciled on the channel,
returned unopened.
The sudden revulsion chilled him. He
broke the seal of the second letter and
read-read while look of utter sick
whiteness crept across his face, look
OF rage and suffering that marked
every feature.
II was from his sister, letter writ
ten with fingers that soiled and creased
II in their agony, blotted and stained
with tears. For the thing it told of
was a dreadful thing. a whispered
charge against him so damning, so sa-
tanic in its cruelty, that though lip
might murmur il to a gloating ear,
yet pen refused to word it. The whole
thing turned black before him, and
the dusk seemed shot through with
barbed and naming javelins OF agony
He crushed the letter in his hand,
and, with gesture like a madman's,
thrust il into Shelley's, turning TO him
a countenance distorted with passion,
gauche. malignant, repulsive.
Read it, Shelley" he said in a stran-
gled voice. Read il and know Lon
don, the most ineffable centaur ever
begotten of hypocrisy and a night
marei Read what its wretched lepers
are saying. There is a place in Michael
Angeles Last Judgment I'M the Sistine
Chapel that was made for their kind.
and may the like await them in that
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
Amen."
With this fearful imprecation he
flung away from their startled faces
along the vineyard lane, on into the
dusk lost to a sense of direction, to
everything save the blackness in his
own soul
The night fell, odorous with grape
scents. and the moon stained the ter
races TO amber. 1t shone on Gordon
as he sat by the little wharf where
the skiff rocked in the ripples, his eye
viewless, looking straight before him
across the lake.
For him there was no sanctuary in
time or in distance. The passage he
had read at Newstead Abbey in his
mothers open Bible beside her body,
flashed through his mind: And among
these nations shalt thou find no ease,
neither shall the sole of thy foot have
rest. In the morning thou shalt
say, Would God it were even! and at
even thou shalt say, Would God 1T were
morning." He had found-should find
Ion had been bound only with fetters of
iron to stone pillars. He was chained
with fiery links of hate to the freezing
walls of the worlds contumelyi
Footsteps went along the shadowy
lane. Shelley's voice spoke: He will
come back soon. and we must comfort
him if we can"
The words came distinctly as the
footsteps died away.
Il
Jane Clermont stood near him, her
eyes smiling into his, fringed with in
toxication and daring.
Il know" she said: they are
bounding you still. They hated me,
too She came quite close TO him.
What need we care? What are they
all 10 us?"
1t was the Jane of the Drury Lane
greenroom he saw noW-the Jane
whose brilliance and wit had held him
then; but there was something
deeper in her look than he had nver
seen before; a reckleSSneSs, an inVi-
tation and an assent.
Janet" he exclaimed.
She touched his hand. why should
we stay here? Let us go away from
them all-where they cannot follow US
TO sting,"
Gordon stared at her, his eyes hold
slip the leash of all that was pagan in
him? What matter? He was damned
anyway social pariah: why strive
to undeserYe the reputation? His
thought was swirling through savage
undercurrents of vindictive wrath,
circling, circling like a maelstrom,
about this one dead center: Civiliza-
tion had cast him off. Henceforth his
life was his own, to live TO himself, for
his own ends. as the savage, as the
beast of the field. To live and to die,
knowing that no greater agony that
was meted TO him now could await
him, even in that nethermost reach
where the lost are driven at the end
I'VE must comfort him If we can't
The words Shelley had spoken
seemed to vibrate in the stiffness like
the caught key of an organ. He
turned to where Villa Diodati above
them slept in the long arms of the
night shadows, listening to The con-
tending voices within him. Comfort
The placid comfort of philosophy for
him whose flesh was fever and his
blood quicksilver? In this girl life
and action beckoned to him-life full
and abundant-forgetfu wen-
dering and pleasure, fieeting surely,
but still his while ii should last And
yet
The girls hand was on the skiff. On
a sudden a cry of fear burst from her
lips and she shrank back as a
disordered figure broke from the
darkness and clutched Gordon's arm
fercely.
Where are you taking her now"
Gordons thought veered. In his
numbness of feeling there scarce
seemed strangeness In the apparition.
AS he looked at the Oriental, mus
tachioed face, haggard and haunted,
his lips rather than his mind replied:
WHO knoWs?'
you liei You ruined her career
and stole her away from London and
from me- Now you want to take her
from these last friends of hers-for
yourself But you cannot go where
/ will not find you! And where you
go the world shall know and despise
you!"
James eyes flashed upon the speak
er. "You." she cried in contemptu-
Gus anger. You hated him even in
London; now you have followed him
here. 1t is you who have set the
peasants to spy upon US! 1t is you
who have spread tales through Cen