The Newark star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1909, 1909-08-18
CHAPTER XVII.

~ the third day she opened her
W ~ to the sun with the thought:
Where is he? From the win
dows of her room she could see the
two pale points and the narrow way
of water that led into the western
ocean. Had he sailed out yonder west
into the east, into that oblivion which
was his only safety. for ever out of her
sight? Or was he still at hand, ignor-
ing warning, defying fate? What diff
ference can that make to me now?"
she thought. "since whether he is here
or yonder I've come to the end"
She drew out the sapphire and held
it in her hand. The cloud of events
had cast no film over its lustre. but
she looked at ii now without pleasure.
For ali its beauty it wasn't worth what
they We're doing for IL. Well, today
they were both of them to see the last
oil 1t. Today she was going to axe it
to Mr.. PurGie to deliver it into his
hands. to tell him how it had fallen
into hers in the goldsmith's shop-all
OF the story that was possible for her
to tell. For the rest, how she came
TO fix suspicion on the Jewel he might
hin her fanciful or morbid. It didn't
matter as long as the weary thing was
out of her hands. 1t couldn't matter!
II leaned and looked through the
thin Veil of her curtains at the splendid
Gay. 1t was one of February's freaks.
1t was hot. The white ghost Of noon
lay over shore and sea. Beneath her
the city seemed to sleep gray and glis-
tening, The tops of hills that rose
above the u~p-creeping houses were
misted green. Across the bay. along
the northern shore, there was a pale
green coast of hills dividing blue and
blue.
She looked down upon all, as lone and
lonely as a deserted lady in a tower.
lifted above these happy, peaceful
things by her strange responsibility.
Her thoughts could not stay with them:
her eyes Travelled seward. h parted
the curtains and, ieanlng a little out.
locked westward at the white sea gate.
a whistle, as of some child calling his
mate, came sWeetly in the silence. 1t
was near, n the duesting, expectant
note caught her ear. Again it came,
sharper, imperative, directly beneath
her. She looked down; she was speech
less. There was a sudden wild current
of blood in her veins. There he stood.
the whistler, neither child nor bird, but
the man himself-Kerr. looking up at
her from the gay oval of her garden.
Come down." he called.
All sorts of wonders and terrors were
beating around her. He had transcend
ed her widest wish; he had come to
her more openly, more daringly. more
-romantically than she could have
dreamed. All the amazement Of why
and how he had braved the battery Of
the windows Of her house was swal-
lowed up in the greater JOY Of seeing
bin there, standing in his '.grays.''
with stiff black hat pushed off his hot
forehead. hands behind him. looking up
at her from the middle of anemones
and daffodils.
Come down." he called again, and
waved at her with his slim, glittering
stick. How far he had come since their
last encounter. to wave at her and
command her, as if she were verify his
own. She left the window, left the
room, ran quickly down the stair. The
house was hushed; no passing but her
own, no butler in the hall, no kitchen
maid on the back stair. Only grim
faces of pictures--ancestors not her
own-glimmered ~reproaehful upon her
as she fed past. Light echoes called
her back along the hall. The furniture,
the mufiing curtains, her own reflec-
ton flying through the mirrors, held
up to her her madness, and by their
mute stability seemed to remind her
of The shelter sne was eaViug-seenael