The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1911-02-22

door in the saloon was daily depres-
SAINT. He had never seen the yachts
new owner, though she had written
him that he might expect her at any
time, and the enigma OF future un-
der woman's orders troubled his
sturdy and unimaginative mind.
'Wish to the Lord she'd come, If
she's ever coming!" he muttered, as
the photograph ran down with a
wheeze. This is two days I've kept
the dinghy lying at the hatoba."
The mate nodded. 1t was not the
first. time the remark had been made.
81 wonder why she ordered his cabin
door kept locked?" he said.
Papers" returned the captain sapi-
emily wants to seal 'em up for the
executor New owner must be rich, l
guess. I'd like to know what she paid
for the outfit. First time l ever signed
under new skipper sight unseen!"
Miss Barbara Fairfax unused the
mate. Nice name. Curious only one
piece of mail should come for her
and second class, too" He picked up
thin package from the table, folded
in dark paper. This had been made
sodden by the rain; now it parted
and fiat, black disk of hard rubber
slipped from it and rolled across the
floor.
Blamed if it isn't photograph rec
ord,' he said, as he picked it up. It's
out of the wrapper now-lets try it"
He set it in place and reWound the
spring, and the saloon filled with
chorus of chirps and tinklings from
quivering catgut smitten by irony
plectrons.
"Samisen!" said the captain. GIVE
heard 'em in the tea houses. Give me
fiddle for mine, any day.
The yachts cabin boy entered. "The
dinghys coming, SIR" he said. Lady
and gentleman aboard her."
The captain got up hastily, put out
hand and stopped the machine.
"Take away those dishes, and be quick
about it, he ordered. "Mr. Rogers,
pipe up the men,"
He hurried on deck and watched
the bobbling craft approach. Under
the rising wind the sea was lifting
rapidly and the dinghy buried it's nose
in the spray. Presently he was civ
ing a helping hand to the visitors at
the break in the rail, looking into a
pair of brown eyes that he thought
were the saddest he had ever seen,
and replying to voice that was say
ing:
81 am Miss Fairfax, Captain Hart,
and this is my uncle, Bishop Ran
dolph."
The train which brought Barbara
and the bishop from Tokyo had crawl
ed for miles along what seemed mar
row ribbon laid on a yellow floor. The
steady, continuous downpour had
flooded the rice fields and the land
scape was waste of turbid freshet,
the rivers deep and swollen torrents.
At one bridge small army of work
men were dumping loads of stone
about a pier head and snoring up the
track with heavy timbers. The train
crossed this at a snail's pace, that
inspired anxiety.
"Im not an engineer" the bishop
had said, "but prophesy this bridge
won't be safe tomorrow unless the wa
ter falls
The early daylight dinner at the
hotel had been we'll nigh a silent cere-
monial. That day, with the temple
solitary, Barbara had gone down into
deeper Valley of Shadow Just as
her longing to go to him in her trouble
had seemed to her overweight, so
now her grief was strangely poignant.
When she thought of him her mind
was confusion Of tremulous half
thoughts and new emotions. She could
not know. that the voice she dimly
heard was the call of blood-that she
was in the grip of that mighty instinct
of filiation which strengthens the life
currents of the world.
AS she stood at length with her
task in the cabin whose door had been
so long locked, she remembered the
story she had heard of the white
robed priests Of Kudan Hill, stalking
barefooted across the hot Goals. Her
soul, she thought, must tread a flery
path on which rested no miracle OF
painlessness. and which had no end.
Above her she could hear the irregu-
lar footballs of the bishop on the tilt
ing deck, and the shrill humming OF
the wind in the ventilators. 1t seemed
TO be hooking her. Before the world
she was living painful pretense.
Even her uncle believed her to be
growing for the man whose life had
gone out that night at Nikko!