Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1912-11-28

-~E handed him. But then. since he has
{. ): !. !:
u@8 yNk paid the penalty to the province for the
E6A3N lie he took. Why should he not atone
V&T 4 $ya to God by saving lives? Besides" he
EMAES NE added smiling benignantly "it is hard
n eSgM$ Cor man be very bad here in
Tete Ges Rochcrs."
EsxaxlHm.E Some girls came up The path that led
<stsn to his little stone -hewn house, and.
CD cusng himself the pri@t led them in
side Shade and sat smoking upon the
stoop a2nr downhill toward the lights OF the GU:
hamlet
There's some mighty good-looking girls in this
God -forsakcn corner of the world said Slade but
tell YOU that old convicts daughter has them al!
beaten. Did you sec the look that chunky French
Canadian mill-hand gave me in the store tonight
He's her fance it appears, and he's spotted me tor
o rival When l think of Marie bestowing herself
upon that lout it just makes sick It's crime,
that's what it is and somebody ought to stop it.
And if nobody will why
Slade broke off abruptly, and blessed the fortune
that left me but two fleet weeks in the year in which
to play upon those vagrant ancie5 that Slade freed
from all need Of toll, could indulge perennialy.
We'll hire boat and row to the lighthouse to-
morrow" said Slade. 81 want you to take look at
her I've had quite some talks with her at the store.
She wants to leave home and see the world. and
fancies it's sort of magnhcd and glorihed lete
des Rochcrs. What life for her, cooped UP IN that
old lighthouse with the old man and her crazy
grandfather or whoever that patriarchal ola per
ISL!
The priest came out again and took up his cigar
from the wndow-ledge on which he had laid it. He
waited till his charges had trpped Of sign down
the decvity.
"You wish to go to the lighthouse Tomorrow
he asked. Pardon ii overheard you; my win
dows open behind your heads And | am quick
hearing, he added, with self-depreciation. To-mor
row | visit my charges there, and il you like, !
will call for you al your hotel in the afternoon. |
Shall be your boatman, for rowing is my sole
else until the hunting season begins"
Slade made erirnace 1--WE couldn't
fuse, he said. stroed down the hill. But
don't fancy having that priest around. I wonder
how much he ovcrheard?'
He called for on the following day, late in the
afternoon and pulled through the slack tide.
gaunt mist shrouded the Gulf through which the
booming OF the bel-buoy seemed to diffusc itself i'll
every quarter. On Tcte dies Rochers, where the long
line OF the hill, plunged into The sucking in steep,
black cliffs that shored up the edge OF continent,
the lighthouse had already begun blinking gayly
when arrived We grounded upor the reefs and
stepped cautiously across the slippery weeds until
we reached the little door, where the keeper
met MS
He only gruntcd in answer to the priests intro
ductiOn and, turning led the way up the steps
OF stone until we reached the living halfway
to the top barely furnished place terey devoid
OF those cromographs and cheap colored prints dear
TO the French soul. By the fireplace almost beneath
the hollow fuc that assembled to the roofs, carrying
the and sparks of fire. sat tall old
Of great age, who looked up us, blinking and
n1umbling but said nothing
"lIe never speaks the priest explained. But y
Is thought he understands.
But the girl Sadc had not ovcr-appre ciated her.
She had the black Breton hair so common among
the Canadian descendants Of those first voyagcuTs,
tinted with CLEANS Of bronze; in her blue eyes sur
prise ard Joy struggled with discomfort and
oucrcd IT, And row latent fear, OF whose presence
In nv mind had been but dnly conscious through
the day capcd in my hear. felt the interplay y,
secret antagonslns among those three: between the
girl in whose timd handclasp seemed to read
secret understanding, and the father, standing at the
door between the man and the man AT the hearth
tho graybcard, nscrutable and silent yet ap
| pcared play part in an unfolding drama;
and over all broodcd the benign, keen spirit of the
| priest in his black robe
Even as the father turned for instant away
saw the girls face change and her lips move III
low, in1pas stoned speech. Slade whispered
thing and her eyes flashed PRETTY in half-childish
| anger. Then the father back, and it
though the curtain fell upon drama
| Come Marie" he said harshly "Our oil runs
low; we must carry up more"
Rebellion flashed from her eyes frankly. Their,
with supple adroitness, the priest had ntcrposed
himself between the girl and Shade. | do not think
he spoke; the seams OF the cassock start as
he bent and little folds OF cloth run ripping across
his back then the door closed and three men
| were alone and the graybeard beside the fire, who
never moved.
THE old man thinks Pm good" said Sladc, his
face flushed in humiliation at the priests dexterous
rebuke IF he had any sense he'd never try to hitch
her to that pudding headed mil-hand Why the girl
hates him! If he'd be little less harsh with her
and trust her . that's the way with widowers;
they want to be father and mother rolled into one
he priest came back from the fire; believe he
had been whispering to the graybeard. "Ah,' he
said 81 overheard you again. What should