The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1916-04-06

had come-a resolve to win Alan's
battle for him whatever the odds.
Gerry did not sleep that night. he
lay on the little extra bed he had made
upon his sons arrival and, propping
himself on his elbow. gazed around
MIN. The moon shone through great
cracks In the warped shutters and
filled the room with glow that, as his
eyes dilated, became a revealing light.
In one corner was an iron wash-stand
with its vessels of coarse enameled
metal, a recent purchase. In another
corner stood a grotesque clothes-rack.
1t looked like a young pine with irreg-
ular branches and top Topped or. On
the stubs or pegs hung his clothes and
Margarita's and, on the lowest peg Of
all, the Lilliputian garments OF the
Man. The floor was bare and rolling,
for the boards. roughhewn from hard
wood giants of the forest, had warped
steadily through many years. In its
center stood the great rustic bed that
Gerry had made from the twisted
limbs of trees and BOnifacio had plait-
ed with thongs. By raising himself
to the full length of his arm Gerry
could see Margarita lying uncovered
on the coarse, yellOwish homespun.
On her bare, brown arm lay the black
head of her son.
Gerry shuddered at the nearness-
the familiarity-of everything. The
seams of elementary life stood out bru-
tally. For the first time he saw them.
From the touch of the coarse homespun
that covered him. his mind went back
to the feel of Lieber's fine linen. and
from that it poised ON Alan and then
flew back to Alix-Alix, who. seen
through the years, became doubly ethe-
real and howerlike. Where was Alix?
What had Alan done with her? He
must ask him. That, at least, he must
know. But before he could ask he
must decide about Margarita and steel
himself to his purpose. He thought of
the long, still days at Fazenda Flores
before Alan had come to Lieber's-the
struggle and the reward that had been
his-and the firmness in him, the |
steadfastness that had led Alan to |
name him The Rock, rose up in de-
fense of Margarita and her son.
Gerry was up early. AS he was
True Blue Margarita came on
to the veranda. Where art thou GO
ing" she asked.
Gerry looked up. He was a
little pale from the wakeful night |
and there were slight shadows under
his eyes. 81 am going to Lieber's.
There is a sick man there-he is dying
and l must help. He is my fellow
Margarita's eyes searched his face.
Her bosom rose and fell rapidly. do
not CO." she said, and Gerry started at
the passion in her voice.
He looked at her and smiled. II
must see this man before he dies" he
said, half to himself.
"Ah," said Margarita, beating with
her little brown fist on the veranda pill
ar. II know. | know. 1t is not death
that calls thee. Why should one turn
from things that live to fondIe death?
It is the stranger thou wouldst see."
Gerry dropped the reins of his horse.
md, hurrying up the steps. took Mar
yarta in his arms.
"And why not, my beloved?. 1t is
not woman l go to see, but a man.
Shall l not talk with a man that is
It deaths door"
"Let him but die" pleaded Marga-
'ita; "let him but die and thou shalt
20 and bury him. See, the day Is
beautiful. There is a cloud. Perhaps
t will rain. Come, my Geree, let us
20 down to the river and swim. We
will take the Man. He shall sit on the
Dank and the river will play with his
,are toes. He will laugh"
Gerry smiled but shook his head.
Tomorrow. my beloved, tomorrow, we
hall play with the Man and the river"
Margarita's arms fell to her sides
n pathetic surrender. She watched
Ferry mount and ride slowly I'D the
lope to the bridge where Kemp await
d him. Then she went back to the
eranda steps, sat down and wept
With her face hidden in her hand. She
i'd not know why she wept. but she
new she wept for things that were
,oin0 to ha