The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1908-09-26
CHAPTER vIII.-(Continued.)

crush of self-hate, he smiled at the wom-
an. Until a moment ago the
wrecking work of the morning had put
thoughts of Soronia from his mind. He
had come to the shop partly to marshal
his final resources in an Out-of-the-way
spot and arrange the last line of action.
and partly to avoid the possibility of ar
rest for the moment in case the Panther
had brought an emissary of the law. His
end was a matter of hours at best; his
cruising and his friendship with Consta-
BILE were over Saint Pierre, of the lesser
islands, was the last station of his trav-
cling During three days he had passed
many hours in the shop. What those
hours had accomplished was dramatically
revealed now in the anguish of the maid
en- as she waited for the answer to her
question.
Il have been thinking great deal since
yesterday. l found that l couldn't do
what l tried-at least, without seeing
you again, Sonoria.' Breen spoke vague
ly He had sufficient honesty not to be
deft with the forces he was now employ
ing. 1.-THE future, l cannot tell yet. l
may have to leave Saint Pierre for
awhile, but l shall leave my heart here,
and if l live-I will come back! To-day
l must see my friend and tell him that
I cannot cruise farther south with him."
She would have fallen had he not held
her, but her eyes were shining The old
man ran for restoratives. Breen would
have put the girl into a chair, but she
chung to him.
81 have waited for you so long. my
maker of pictures" she whispered.
Pere Rabeaut stood beside them with
medicines. The veneer of shop servtude
was gone from the gray old face. The
sharp black eyes were directed steadily
upon the stranger, who saw that they
were ready to soften or burst into flame.
Breen saw, too that he was less in the
presence of the father of creole girl
of Martinique than the father of an old
world household.
Il am waiting for you to speak, mon
sieur," said Pere Rabeaut.
you have not waited long, sir" Breen
answered. 1T was just an instant ago
that l had the honor of hearing from
your daughters lips-that she would wait
for me until l could come back perma-
nently to Saint Pierre"
81 know you will forgive an old sol
der of France. So many people do not
understand don't try to understand
that | deemed it privilege to marry the
mother of the maid in your arms-nOt
because a governor general of Martinique
was her father-but because she was wor-
thy the worship of an old soldier of
France. The girl is like her mother,
monsieur
at is an honor l do not deserve, sir
the daughter of a country woman of Jo-
sephine and a soldier of France" said
Breen, grateful that one of his utter
ances contained or covered no lie.
The bow from the veteran was a gra-
cious thing. He held a glass to the lips
of his daughter.
81 do not need it now, father" Soronia
said softly.
There was a knock at the door. The
maid FASTENED to her room, and Pere
Rabeaut, once more the master of the
shop, greeted a gasping patron. Breen
was left to his thoughts. That
which he had done was interchangeable.
Nicholas Stembridge, rejoice this is
your wedding day. he muttered. What
a time you've had down the years! You
have lived long and freely, taking what
you saw and daring consequences and
prattling like defective to keep up your
spirits! Nick, do you recall the prime
sentence of your philosophy-'There is
nothing which Doctor Death cannot
cure? Isn't it wonderful saying? So
wonderful that it has exceptions No,
Death will not put Peter and his lady out
to sea! The police are after
you; your lips are hot with lies; you sit
in the gloom. Nick Stembridge, you are
whipped. cornered. You go out a coward
and liar. Where is your laugh of yes
terday?'
And yet he smiled at the perfection
of the pride humbling trap the Fates had
laid for him this day; smiled at the words
he had uttered to Soronia and her father,
who had bristled into a soldier of France
And yet there had been no other way.
After what he had done to Constable. it
was not in him to deprive Soronia of
what she seemed to need-not under her
pitiful eyes! His own part did not enter.
He conjured no golden haze as the mate
of this creature of ardor, fragrance, and
gentleness. Nor. on the other extreme
did he reflect that to spend ones days
in torrid shop with a woman of black
blood was a fitting end for a brutalized
life.
He put the woman out of his mind
and turned to the sorry business of the
wounded friend He must find Consta-
BILE and say the last words; then take the
blame from his friend in the presence of
the women. If he were taken into GUS
tody on the way-there was no help for
that. All remnants of justice and white
manship demanded that he set out at once.
He hurried to the court
"Soronia," he called, I'll have to go
now. Mr.. Constable expects to leave
with his ship to-day, and l must talk
with him before he goes'
She appeared in the dress in which he
had first seen her. There were tender
remonstrances which he scarcely heard.
but he answered gently. His mind was
with the man.
And you will be back this afternoon 2"
In the hollow of the universe there
seemed no reason that he could utter why