Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1910-04-22

l wanted to spare you. Miss Pat"
Il know that; and you tried to save
Helen. She was blind and misguided.
She had believed in her father and the
last blow crushed her. Everything
looks dark to her. She refuses to
come over this morning; she thinks
she a not face her uncle, her cousin
or you again"
But she must come" l said. cit
will be easier to-day than at any later
time. There's Gillespie. calling me
now. He's going across the lake to
meet Arthur and Rosalind. l shall
take the launch over to the island to
bring Henry. We should all be back
at Glenarm in an hour. Please tell
Helen that we must lave her, that no
one should stay away"
Miss Pat looked at me oddly, and
her fingers touched a stalk of holly
hook beside her as her eyes rested
on mine.
Larry she said, do not be sorry
for Helen if pity is all you have for
her
I laughed and seized her hands.
Miss Pat, / could not feel pity
for any n so skilled with the sword
as she! 1t would be gratuitOus! She
put up a splendid fight, and it's to her
credit that she stood by her father
and resented >my interference, as she
had every right to to. She was not
really against you, Miss Pat; it merely
happened that you were in the way
when she struck at me with the foil,
don't you see?"
Not just tina way, Larry,'-and
she continued to gaze at me with a
sweet distress in her eyes; then,
'Rosalind is very different" she added.
Il have observed it! The ways in
which they are utterly unlike are re-
markabIe; but mustn't keep Gillespie
waiting. Good-by for a little while"
And some forebOding told me that
sorrow had not yet done with her.
Gillespie shouted impatiently as l
ran toward him at the boathouse.
Its the Stiletto," he called, point
ing to where the sloop lay, midway Of
the lake. "She's in a bad way"
The storm blew her out" I sug-
gested, but the sight of the boat, list
ing badly, as though w~ater-logged,
struck me ominously.
WED better pick her up" he said;
and he was already dropping one of
the canoes into the water. We pad
died swiftly toward the sloop. The
lake was still fretful from the storms
lashing, but the sky was without feck
of flaw. The earliest Of the little
steamers was crossing from the viii
lage, her whistle echOing and reecho-
ing roun5 the lake.
The sloop's about done for" said
Gillespie over his shoulder; and we
drove our blades deeper. The Stiletto
was floating %stern-on and rolling log
gily, but retaining still, I thought,
something of the sinister air that she
had worn on her strange business
through those summer days.
She went to bed all right; see, her
sails are furled snug and everything's
in shape. The storm drove her over
here" said Gillespie. shes struck
something, or somebody's smashed
her"
1t seemed impossible that the storm
unassisted had blown her from Battle
Orchard across Lake A~nnandale; but
we wee now close upon her and seek
ing for means Of getting aboard.
shes a bit sloppy" observed Gil
lespie, as we swung round and caught
hold. The water gurgled drunkenly
in the cuddy, and a broken lantern rat
tied on the deck. | held fast as he
climbed over, sending me off a little
as he jumped aboard, and l was work
ing back again with the paddle when
he cried out in alarm.
AS l came alongside he came pack
TO help me, and when he bent over to
catch the painter | saw that his face
was white.
W might have known it," he said.
It's the last and worst that could hap
pen"
Face down across the cuddy lay the
body of Henry Holbrook. His water
clothing was torn as though
in a fierce struggle. A knife thrust
in the side told the story; he had
crawled to the cuddy roof to get away |
from the water and had died there.
1T was the Italian" said Gillespie.
They must have had a row last night
after we left them, and it came to
this. He chopped a hole in the Stilet-
and set her adrift to sink"
l looked about Tor the steamer,
was backing away from the pier
at Port Annandale, and signaled her
with my handkerchief. And when l
faced Gillespie again he pointed ST
lently toward the lower lake, where a
canoe rode the bright water.
Rosalind and her father were on
their way from Red Gate to Glenarm.
Two blades flashed in the sun as the
canoe came toward US. G%illespie's lips
Quivered and he tried to speak as he
pointed to them; n her we both
turned silently toward ST. Agatha's,
where the chapel tower rose above the
green wood.