The midland journal., 1916-02-18
stood up, pointed 70 hImself and then

BIOOQ up, VOluCeQ 90 himself &UU L1eu
down the river to the town The girl
shook her head. She made him under
stand that he was cut Off from the
town by an impossible tributary to
the great river-that he would have
to make long detour inland. Then
she swept her hand from the sun to
the horizon to show him that the day
was too far gone for the journey.
He was not much concerned. An
apathy seized him at the thought Of
going back. He felt as though shame
had left some visible scar on his coun-
tenance that men must see and read.
AS he stood. thoughtful and detached.
the girl grasped his arm with both
her hands and drew his attention to
her. Then she gave. one sweep Of
her arm that embraced all the ruin
Of house and mill and fields. She
pointed to herself. He understood:
these things were hers. Then she fold
ed her hands and with gesture of
surrender laid them in his.
1t was eloquent. There was no mis-
taking her meaning. Gerry was
touched. He held both her clasped
hands in one OF his and put his arm
around her shoulders. She fixed her
eyes on his face for the answer. Once
more Gerry's eyes wandered over all
that ruin. After all, he thought, why
not? Why not bury his own ruin here
in company? But she read no decision
in his face though she watched it long.
What she saw was debate and for the
time it satisfied her.
Gerry all that afternoon was very
silent and thoughtful silent because
there was no one he could talk to,
thoughtfui because the idea the girl
had put into his head was taking
shape, aided by long chain of cir
cunlstances. He looked back over his
covered trail. If he had been some
shrewd fugitive from justice he could
not have planned it better. His sud-
den fight without visiting his home.
his failure to buy a ticket, the subor-
nation of the purser with It's assur-
ance of silence as to his presence or
destination, all that had been wiped
out by his cabIegram to his mother.
But then fate had stepped In again
and once more blotted out the trail
Some genius had heard his wish. The
old Gerry Lansing was dead. Even
from himself the old Gerry lansing
had been torn away in a chariot of
fire.
In the cool of the evening he looked
about him. The tiny world into which
he had fallen was penurious but self
contained. Such fabrics as there were,
were homespun from the bolls Of a
scraggy patch of cotton bushes. A
little oil in a clay dish with twisted
wick of cotton giving forth more
smoke than light seemed to fix him
in his setting of prehistoric man. The
rice, gathered from an enduring bot
tom, formed with manioc, the back
bone of the households sustenance.
From the outcrops of the. abandoned
cane fields, with the assistance Of an
antediluvian hand-mill and an equal
ly antiquated iron pot, they made the
black sirup that served for sugar. Salt,
slightly alkaline, was plentiful A few
cows and their progeny lived In the
open and lived well, for. even untitled,
the lands of the valley were rich. An
occasional member Of the herd was car
ried off to market by the old darlzy.
The proceeds bought the very few con-
tributions of civilization necessary to
the upkeep of the lenten life.
Gerry decided. He looked at the
girl and she ran to him. He put his
arms around her and gazed with a
sort Of numbed emotion into her great
dark eyes. Those eyes were wells Of
simplicity, love, fidelity, but below all
that there were depths unmeasured
and unmeasuring that gave all and de-
manded all.
In the mind OF the husband who
believed himself deserted and betrayed
there no longer existed any barrier be.
tween him and this woman who had
come so strangely into his life. Mar
riage with her was no wrong to Alix.
The last scruples OF civilization and
OF law fell from him like a garment
thrown aside and he became the hus-
band of the girl who had so innocently
woOed him.