Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1907-06-15

n harhOr fretted with waves like azure
shells and winding among shores still
green and wholesome from Il winters
rains. 1t was Sunday, too, and round
the woody headlands and across the
dark blue inlets came the sound of
bells for afternoon church. Tom lay
on his back. his head beneath Il Nor
felix island pine. his heels in the warm
sand at the waters edge. His eyes
We're closed. but he was listening TO
the bells.
lie fancied the sound as 1900
miles away, for so had he lain and
listened amid the Suffolk rabbit war
rens on summer Sundays when his
place was in the cool. dark rcctory
pew. His spirit was in Suffolk now.
Then the bells stopped. Then he lay
very still, and when he turned he half
expected his back to smart and his
legs to jingle. Once more he was
felon in felon's country 1t was that
despite sun and waves and soft white
sand, and felon was his name no less
for this his unmerited ease. AS he
looked across the bay Il black fin broke
the blue and made an allegory with Il
single sIudge. Even as those sweet
waters teemed with sharks. so the fair
land that locked them was rank and
rotten with intestine horror and cru
city ana corruption.
Fourteen thousand miles! The dis
lance was brought home to Tom by
being printed on the chart. beneath an
ideal course, in small type. which the
little ROSamund was sailing over at
| that moment. 1t set him thinking of
| Claire. but the thoughts had no form
and little sting. Not even yet could
| he think or feel acuteIy. \ bundle of
| dead nerves and ciouded brains, he
could but ache and work or ache and
basli as he was doing HOW .'.
An odd number of THE Pickwicl1
Papers had found its way to the
| bungalow and now lay in the sand be-
side Tom. He had finished 1t, to his
| sorrow. before the bells began. Pres
emily up came Daintree with the dog
that still followed him to every haunt
! but his study. He carried his camp
| stool and an arnful Of books. and
| Toms heart sank. their taste in litcra-
| ture differing terribly, though of the
| two only one held himself qualified to
! judge. The judge glanced at the green
! cover in the sand much as he would
| have favored Il mountebank ut 4 fair,
with insolent nostrils Snd a plying
eye for those who smiled. He opened
his Byron and read canto of Lara"
! aloud and admirably, but Tom nearly
| fell asleep and was accused of having
no soul for poetry. cor for anything
else" Tom reminded the reader, who
shut the book with an offended snap,
but opened another next minute.
| Perhaps" said Daintree, you pre-
fer this sort of thing. l shouldn't Won
der"
And he read:
| "Oh that 'twere possible
| After long grief and pain
| To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!
"When I was wont to meet her
In the silent woody places
OF the land that gave me birth
We stood tranced in long embraces
Mixed with kisses sweeter. sweeter
| Than anything on earth.
| "a shadow fits before me-
| Not thou, but like to thee.
| All, God. that it were possible
For one short hour to see
The souls we loved, that they might
tell us
What and where they beg'
When Daintree began, Toms eyes
had been swimming lazily about the
bay, but the first Quatrain brought
them at a bound to the readers face
and now he was hanging upon every
word Line after line rang through
him like trumpet CALL waking ole
echoes, stirring and stabbing him, un
: til the whole man tingled with the
rushing of long stagnant blood. An(
now came stanZas that went no deeper
than the ear, while those three raj
their course through every vein. Ye
when he next caught up the thread /
was his own soul still speaking. Tn,
very story was now his own.
"Alas for her that met me.
That heard me softly call:
Came glimmering through the laurels
At the quiet eventual
In the garden by the turrets
OF the old immortal hall"
He had turned his head. A blue mis-
hid the world. but through it shone
4 poignant vision of Claire Harding
among the Winwood fir trees-n tn
autumn evenings long ago. And this |
how the tears came back into Ton
Erichsen's eyes, to show him that hi
j soul had lived through nights bush
ranging and four months of MajO
Honeybone'S iron gang.
Daintree looked on with a jealou
scorn. That few stray verses in til
Annual Register should put fire and wa