Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1909-02-26

Lara fRltered before the revolting poe
sibilities of the moment Mother" she
implored, don't poison the years I am
a grown woman--I 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
ity of the bar suffocated-as II 1t had
pressed against her throat. Every fiber
Of her young body sprang tense to burst
the insufferable bond Not a tissue re-
Taxed, although the bar was forced. Her
mothers fingers scraped like wood across
the casing. The sickening sound made en-
imperishable record in the girls brain.
Mortified 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 relenting.
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 p
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-she needs
youw
Where are you going, Lara2" 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 III have
a carriage brought"
I'm the name of pity, Uncle joey
don't leave mother alone longer-ul
there !" she said desperately. II 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 motherT
The planter turned last look at Breen
and obeyed, his face a field Of conflict
Lara threw the shawl about her shout
ders and hurried to the door, which Breer
opened In utmost amazement. She turned
to him In the dark, with the burning
question:
us Peter Constable deadT
No"
!, lis he hurt-lying on the ship"
mo, he Is reasonably well, and Ii
Saint Pierre"
Reacting weakness rushed over hel
, now, the doubts of an untried soul, anC
: the loneliness of an outcast. The seem
in the upper hallway was upreared in he
brain. She had been borne Throughout
= the day, unerringly by the processes o
mind toward the expression of her owl
will but the fruition was so sudden ant
. horrible as forever to be beyond tn
shadow and circumstance of extenuation
y If Constable were we'll and in Sain
, Pierre, why did he not come to her, in
> stead of sending this man? Even thougl
! Breen were all a man could be, had Con
stable the right to send him to her, afte
l the allegations of the press2 Could Their
+ be any truth in the suggestions of he
! mother? Might there not exist In the Con
stable character a war of the base ant
I noble2
. These big tangible terrors possesses
= her. She could not go back-the bridge
were burned. The man at her side di
o not speak, save to answer her questions
Ahead were possibilities and fancies, be
. side which the rumbling menaces of tn
mountain were clean fears. She halted
Her body swayed a little, and the maj
!, put out his hand to steady her. A CT,
escaped her lips.
II cannot go on !" she exclaimed brok
emily. II have done a terrible wrong II
coming. Everything is different. LeaV
, me. II shall go back toward Fort
France"
ITO be continued.)