The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1907-06-29
CHAPTER XVII.

The llttle COlIdSC q WcdIy WOSh oASSA $500
evening when Jean had crept down and
rs gently as possible had told him OF
Audrey's strange aversion to seeing him.
at is only a whim," Jean said, hur-
riedly: I'VE must humor her,"
That same night it was, when they
were sitting alone in the tiny dining
room, that Jack suddenly poured out the
whole miserable story into Jeans ears;
the story of that ball; of how he had
been hoaxed into driving over to see Mr..
Benson, who had never sent for him. OF
all the horrible things he had heard about
Audrey; and, lastly, of how he had come
upon her in the summer house, with bev-
erley Rochfort at her feet kissing ner
hands.
Put yourself in my place, and judge
as judged. Do not view things as they
are now. or you will be harder upon me
than | deserve" he said, as he leaned
his weary, aching brow on his hand.
81 will not be hard upon you at all,
Lord john" Jean said very gently; TOT
l think should have been misled as you
were by such apparently strong clrcum-
stantial evidence. | am glad you nave
spoken out to me. and 1 only wish Au-
drey had done the same for then we
might have arrived at the truth
what is it you mean" Jack asked,
looking up at her, eagerly.
Il mean that l now am convinced that
Willie is right, and that there was some
plot connived against you both at that
ball l have no definite proof, only
woman's intuition to work upon, but that
shall be enough. This must be sifted.
Lord John, sifted to the very dregs. l
love you both" she continued, tears dim
ming her eyes. you have been more
than good to me, and now that Audrey's
mother is gone 1 feel 1 must be friend,
sister and mother in one. You will see
that l am right, and that you and my
dear one were both the victims of some
conspiracy. On the face of it the whole
affair is absurd. Don't you love each
other better than all the world? / shall
write to Willie and tell him all my
doubts"
And the result of that letter was to
put Willie Fullerton on the track of
Murray, whom Jean seemed convinced
could throw some light on the subject
A week had gone. and Audrey was
wonderfully better; it was her first real
day of convalescence, and Jean was sit
ting with her. reading. Downstairs Jack
was trying to comfort himself, when sud
denly a familiar voice accosted him, and
he found himself shaking hands with
Marshall. Marshall, grown older, and
looking very wan in her simple black for
her beloved mistress. 1t somehow COM
forted Jack to see her; she seemed to
bring back a little of the sweet influence
that had surrounded Constance Fraser.
She had come direct from seeing Mr..
Fullerton, who had briefly told her all,
and she now asked to see Audrey at once.
LET me nurse her, my lord" she en-
treated; ''her, my dear's own child. Will
you 90 up and tell her I'm here, my lord
Perhaps I'd best not 60 straight without
saying"
Jacks face flushed; he hesitated; then
he rose and went out of the room. He
could not bring himself to tell Marshall
he was forbidden his wife's presence.
He went steadily upstairs and stood
outside the door. The handle was turn
ed. and from within came the sound of a
faint, low voice. He meant to have call
ed Jean, but the sound of that voice
stopped him.
1t was Audrey speaking. His heart
beat violently, then turned as cold as
iron in his breast. She was speaking of
him, but how bitterly! Each word seem
ed to 60 through him like knife. Jean
had been pleading his cause, but he only
heard Audrey's answer.
II refuse to see him, Jean; 1 refuse 4
hear his name mentioned again. les,
yes; know you think me a foolish
child. a fretful invalid but am more
than this. l may not be very old in
years, but l have suffered as much as
any woman of fifty. Do you forget all
he wrote in that awful letter? Oh, Jean
Jean! You don't know how his words
have struck home! He says 1 have
wronged him-1, who-who-who-
Her voice grew choked for a moment
but she soon mastered her emotion. 'No
Jean; there can be no friendship or kind.
ly feeling between us. As he has Judged
me, so let me live; my pride and my
honor will support me without him. ]
Il trust l shall never see him, again
shall be happier when 1 know he is IA,
away. He said he was going on a tou,
OF the world. Why does he not start;
Why does he add to his former cruelty
BY staying here"
Audrey, you are unjust, you are un.
like yourself; you Judge your husband
most cruelty. If you could only know
how he has suffered"
Audrey broke in with a hard. bite,
laugh.
II see he has won your heart lean
Well, we will say no more, except that
am firm. and that If Lord John has an,
pride left he will not force himself unoI
me, but 90 at once"
But Jack heard no more he did M
know that the hard, contemptuous ton,
suddenly broke with little gaspinr sob
he did not see the thin, small hands cove,
the white. lovely face; he did not know
that Jean had slipped from her chat
and was holding Audrey's weeping fern
ciasped In her arms. No, he knew non,
OF this, for he had gone straight down
stairs. he had picked up his hat and nj
ster, and opening the door, he had wall
ed out into the wind and rain. lookin
neither to the right nor the left. turnir
his back deliberately on all that he he'll
dearest in life