The Montgomery advertiser., 1907-10-19

for any sleep there'Ii be bed for me-
 John Shfl held out his hand and said nothing. It was simple way of ex- pressing his thanks.
 Would you like to stay here?" con- tinued the doctor. "or will you return to Black Ha1l?"
 T must return" shil replied in q low voice. T caunot explain every thing to you. doctor. but I can tell you that this lady's husband will look for her at Black Hall, and that, if I am ab- sent--well, you can understand what he will think.v
 T understand the doctor replied with a slight frown. He was a clean living man, and he had poor opinion of men who took wives away from their husbands.
 You misunderstood me-" Shil con tinued. If you think that am engaged in common intrigue. that am mixed up in vulgar scandal. This lady is as good and sweet as my own mother. But she loathes her husband. cannot explain the facts to you, nor can ex- plain why I, for certain other reasons am bound to protect her from her hus- bands violence" He spoke earnestly, and looked the doctor full in the face as he spoke.
 q believe you" pr. Hardy replied simply. 4
 If you require any further proof of my intentions" Shil continued, "I will tell you that I am shortly to be mar always passed as an honorable man.
 pr Hardy held out his hand.
 l"These matters do not concern me-" he replied. but I like to deal with straight people. Go home, MT Shil and we'll do all we can. You can do no good here. Come down tomorrow on the first ebb, and I hope I shalf have good news for you" fF
 May I see her before I go?" ask ed Shil. T should like to. if I may. in caste" He paused; he was afraid to put his fears into words.
 He followed the doctor upstairs, and when the latter had opened the door, he entered, and, crossing over to the bedside, looked earnestly at Laura's face. It was scarcely visible in the darkened room, but he could see that the eyes were closed. Then he turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.
 A few minutes later he was sailing down the creek, but when he had crossed the broad estuary, he lowered the sail. and bent to his oars with fu- rious energy. With the help of the fiood-t tide he reached the quay by the park in an hour and half, and walked
 
 arm, and Pat meekly trotting at his heel M
 After a cold bath and a shave and a change of clothes. he felt fresh in body and mind, and did full justice to cold luncheon which was awaiting him in the dining-room. It was half-past four In the afternoon, and he had not tasted food since his breakfast on Conasea Island.
 When he had finished his meal. he re- tired to the smoking room, and lit a pipe He was tired. but more easy in his mind than he had been for hours. Under the soothing influence of good food and wine and tobacco, things .ap- peared in a more rosy light. Laura had fine constitution, and was in good hands. Undoubtedly she would pull through this Illness. All she wanted was rest and quiet and sIkilful nursing. After all, hope and despair are largely a matter of physical content or hard ship.
 Yet, even in this mood of optimism, John Shil could not hide from himself the serious nature of the problem that would confront him in the near future. He had assumed Laura's recovery to health. But after that? marriage to Leonore? For the moment he could not contemplate such an event with equan- unity. Leonore had concealed important news from him, news that must inevit- ably affect their relations toward each other. He could not doubt that she had done this with definite purpose in her mind. She knew we'll enough why he had given up all hope of taking Laura from her husband She was well aware that only the existence of the child re- strained him from sin. She herself had harped on this one point in Widley Street "The child, the child" That had hot with which she had conquered him.
 And now the child was dead, and there was nothing save sense of honour to refrain him from taking the step which would lead him to happi- ness.
 "only my sense of honour" he said to himself, as he watched the blue ceiling; yet that is enough for an honorable man."
 But, as he considered the matter from every point of view, he began to wonder if, all. honour would prove a strong enough chain to bind him to Leonore. It was not purely a question of self. There was Laura to be con- sidered. She had left her husband and come to him for protection. No words of love had passed between them, but he knew well enough why she had come to him, She had evidently decid ed to break loose from all ties which bound her to Sir William Tankerlane 4 and to seek the happiness that had so long been denied to her. She had not spoken of love, but he had seen the passion in her eyes, and the mere fact of her presence at Black Hall was more eloquent than thousand pro- testations of affection.
 The unfortunate man was in a po- sition in which no honorable man ever desires to find himself. It was not even the simple but cruel battle be- tween self and honour. He thrust all idea of self out of his head. but even then. the matter resolved itself into an exquisite problem, On the one hand he had to hehave honourably to Leon ore; on the other, he had to do the best he could for the woman who loved him I and who had placed herself in his hands.
 And as he pondered over the matter, he began to recall Laura's words-the last words she had uttered before her brain had lapsed into hopeless dark ings of 8 maniac, but supposing that they contained even a germ of truth. Supposing that Leonore-oh no, it was ridiculous.
 His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of a footman, who handed him a card on a salver. The card bore the name of Sir William Tankerlane.
 "I will see him., said John Shil curt ly. Show him up here"
 The man left the room. and, when he