Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-10-31

pitdl III ludU Town. WlIlln Jne IdSt
few days she had been moved to
Tankerlane Court, and Sir William
Tankerlane had accompanied her. He
| mad received no message from either
of them. 1t was possible that he
would never. come into touch with
either of them again. Sir William
would keep a tight hold on his wife
for the future, and it was possible
that Lauras spirit had been entirely
broken by her illness.
Yet he thought much of her in those
first days of the darkness, and the
flame of his love burnt more fiercely
tho,ns auar in the gloom. But he knew
! that he would never take her from,
her husband and that only the death
Of Tankerlane would give him the de-
sire of his heart. This much, at
least. his adversely had already
taught him. 1t had shown him the
depth of the sin that he mad contem-
into which he would have cast his
own soul and the soul of the woman
lie loved. In his own sufferings he
saw the hand Of Father who chas-
tens His rebellious children, to turn
them from the error of their ways
This much good at any rate, had
come to John Shil out of his illness.
He was too ordinary and too human
to bear his awful affliction with the
patience of a philosopher or a saint.
But he realised that it was a punish
ment, and, though he chafed bitterly
under his burden of misery, he
acknowledged that he had in some
measure paid the penalty exacted by
just Judge. The law of his country
had not yet punished him for the
death of Ben Holland. But God had
exacted full repayment for those few
moments of indecision when the man
had gone down to his death.
And even in the midst of his men
tai sufferings he felt that God had
stayed the full force of His ven
geance. Twice had he been very
near to death, and twice had his life
been spared. Twice had Laura been
brought down to the very edge OF the
Dark Valley, and twice had she been
led back again to the light. He was
light. He was as yet too sorely tried
by his blindness to be grateful for
his own life; but he thanked God
that Laura had been saved, and he
could not help thinking that both
their lives had been spared for some
object, and that sin could have nc
place hereafter in either of their
hearts.
1t was a lonely and humble man
that rose to greet Leonore Jackson, as
she entered the smoking-room at
Black Hall, and as the door closed be
hind her, she paused with a look of
horror in her eyes. She knew moth
ing of the change that had been
wrought within, but she shrank from
the physical weakness and pain that
she saw in every feature and every
limb. The great frame was a mere
skeleton on which the clothes hung
loosely; the back was curved, and the
knees bent, as though unable to sup
port the weight of the body; the
hands were white and bony; the face
was drawn and haggard and Old It
was the face of a mask, almost with
out life, for the eyes which give life
to the face were covered with a
hideous green shade and the features
were moulded into a permanent ex-
preston of pain.
"Ah, Leonore," he said in harsh,
broken voice. Is that you? Here is
my hand. l cannot see yours to take
It,"
Leonore hesitated for moment, and
then, moving quickly forward, she
seized the outstretched hand in hers
and pressed it to her lips.
Jack she whispered. looking at
his face. She waited for moment, as
though expecting him to take her in
his arms. Then, as he made no at
tempt at any more intimate greeting,
she came closer to him, and still held
his hand. i