The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1908-10-10

Lara faltered before the revolving pos.
sibifities of the moment. Mother" she
implored, don't poison the years! l am
grown woman see my, way clearly!
She leaned against the arm that cross
ed the doorway. 1t did not give. The
face close to hers in the feeble light
burned away her self-control. The rigid
:ty of the bar suffocated-as If it had
pressed against her throat. Every fiber
of her young body sprang tense to burst
the insufferable bond. Not tissue re-
Taxed, although the bar was forced. Her
mothers fingers scraped like wood across
the casing. The sickening sound made sn
imperishable record in the girls brain.
Horrifed at the thing she had done, Lara
would have fallen at her mothers feet,
praying forgiveness, had there reached
her now a murmur of pain or relentlng.
But the face was not changed. The SOW
ereign will would not have broken had
she hewn her way into the room with
sword. Low-spoken, freezing utterances
found the brain of the girl, promptings OF
the dread, imperfect faculty:
go, grown woman, who sees her way
clearly Go with the thief to your lover
who dares not come to you! Go out
to the hunted ship, then-with the thief
and his dull tool ~
Lara seized her hat and shawl and dart
ed past the pitiless voice, shutting her
ears with her hands. Down the stairway
she sped, her one thought to flee. There
was truce below the awfulness of defeat
behind. The men had heard
nothing. Breen stood by the door, his
face whitened with dust. The planter
waited near the foot of the stairs-an'
other obstacle.
go to mother quickly needs
you'll" -.
Where are you going, Lara?" the old
man gasped.
ITO the ship with the other refugees y
mot with this man, child
"He is Mr.. Constable's friend"
But I'll go with you, dear! I'll have
a carriage brought"
I'm the name of pity, Uncle joey
don't leave mother alone longer-up
there ~ she said desperately. Il am 60
ing out to the ship. Your nephew has
asked me to be-his wife. This man will
take me to him. Go to mother J"
The planter turned last look at Breeh
and obeyed, his face a field of conflict.
Lara threw the shawl about her shout
ders and hurried to the door, which Breen
opened in utmost amazement. She turned
to him in the dark, with the burning
question:
us Peter Constable dead?"
NO"
us he hurt-lying on the ship?"
mo, he is reasonably well, and IN
Saint Pierre"
Reacting weakness rushed over he1
now, the doubts of an untried soul, and
the loneliness of an outcast. The scene
in the upper hallway was upreared in her
brain. She had been borne throughout
the day, unerringly by the processes OF
mind toward the expression of her own
will; but the fruition was so sudden and
horrible as forever to be beyond the
shadow and circumstance OF extenuation.
If Constable were we'll and in Saint
Pierre, why did he not come to her, in
stead of sending this man? Even though
Breen were all a man could be, had Con-
stable the right to send him to her, after
the allegations of the press? Could there
be any truth in the suggestions of her
mother? Might there not exist in the Con-
stable character a war of the base and
noble?
These big tangible terrors possessed
her. She could not go back-the bridges
were burned. The man at her side did
not speak, save to answer her questions.
Ahead were possibilities and fancies, be-
side which the rumbling menaces of the
mountain were clean fears. She halted.
Her body swayed a little, and the man
put out his hand to steady her. A cry
escaped her lips.
II cannot go on" she exclaimed brok.
emily. Il have done a terrible wrong in
coming. Everything is different. Leave
me. IL shall go back toward Fort de
France!'
Ito be continued.)