Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1910-08-12

seeing In a mOmen n foot lying In
ert, out of place, and helpless. She's
only tainted" ne said. IT'S her ankle.
She's broken 1t IN the darkness COM
ing to meet US. We will take her to
the ship"
NO" said the a she must come
OF her own free will. Send to the ship
for bandages and whatever you re-
quire."
Very WELL" said the surgeon, rising
and comforting hastily with Mr.. Whit
taker. Meanwhile, you handker-
chiefs, gentlemen, and some cold
water"
There is a spring ~hereabouts," said
the man, ION the other side of the
hill"
Il will fetch the water" said the
chaplain.
He was wearing a tightly woven
straw hat in which he could easily
carry 1T.
Mr.. Whitaker turned and ran to the
beach whence he sent the BOAT OF to
the ship. The surgeon meanwhile had
bound up the wOman's ankle, and
bathed 1t with water and whisky, and
had forced some Of the spirits down
the woman's throat, but the mans
touch, his presence, would have suf-
feed to call her back to life.
do you suffer-" he asked tenderly
as consciousness returned to her.
mot since you are here" she said.
Il ran to meet the ship and fell and
hurt my ankle"
The doctor has fixed 1t up for you.
We have sent to the ship for band
ages"
Man" she said, whose ship is it?'
Mine"
Did you see my ~signal?"
yes, and we were glad because It
told us that you were alive, but we
were coming directly here"
And did you come for me?"
For you only"
How did you know that l was
here?"
81 didn't know it."
why did you come them"
Il was sent here"
who sent you"
"LangfOrd."
Did he tell you l was here?"
mo, he told me to go back to the
island, that was all"
Nothing mOre?"
He gave me a letter which I was
to open when l set foot upon It,"
open it now" said the woman.
She had risen to a sitting position.
He knelt beside her, his arm around
her supporting her. He carried the
letter in his pocket. He had slipped it
there as he started for the shore. He
ook it out and handed it to her.
You M a open it," he said.
With trembling fingers she tore the
envelope. Inside there was nothing
for him, but a smaller envelope adj
dressed to her. The chaplain held
the light close to enable them to see.
1T is for me-" she said, not for
you"
Yes" said Charnock gravely, sti-
fling a spasm Of jealousy in his heart.
You may open it,"
Not l." returned the man touched
by this confidence. at is for you"
Without more ado she tore the Sec
ond envelope. A little slip of paper
fell from it. His message was aston
ishingly brief. While Charnock reso-
lutely averted his head, she read these
words:
Il broke my word once to your sOT-
row; l break it again to your joy.
Won't you try to remember now that
l am one hat 1 tried to make amends
and that l gave him back to you?"
She glanced at the paper and then
she read the simple words aloud.
Charnock understood vaguely that
in some way Langford had known that
the woman was alive-how he could
ascertain later-and that she had
made him promise not to tell; that
he had broken his promise and died.
II don't understand the last words"
said the woman.
They are his last words, 1 take It,
answered the man. HE looked like a
dead man when he came to me at my
house in Virginia and told me to go to
the island"
Poor Langford," said the woman.
May God have mercy on him"
added the chaplain, solemnly. He
knew the story, too. do you forgive
him, my child?" asked the old man as
he, too, turned away to leave these
two alone.
with all my heart" answered the
woman.
And do you forgive meT' asked
Charnock softly.
with all my heart" again an
swered the woman, but with a change
in the intOnation that mad all the diff
ference in the world between the two
statements.
She turned her face toward him,
reaching her arms up to his neck, for
getting the pain in her foot in the
long kiss be pressed upon her up
turned lips while he held her close
there in that still and starry night on
that gemlike island of regeneration in
the far Pacific sea.
THE END.