, 1917-03-15

denly his knees loosened beneath him
and he sank at David's feet. Lydia
Threw her arms around his shoulders.
The mark !" cried Scull, raising
trembling hands.
David looked at the ribbon with a
start. "Why, yes, it is purple. But I
40 not SHOW 1t to you as a sign that I
am keeping my oath of the Brother
mood. No" As he continued his voice
grew tender; he seemed to be speaking
10 himself or to some vision which the
wretched figure kneeling at his feet
could not see.
You v my life just now" he
went on. Il would have thanked you
for ending it, as you ended the love
OF the one L owed most in the world.
For the sake of that lead love 1 prom
Use you that no one shall know from me
you have been, what you are, I
break my oath of the Brotherhood
The groveling creature at David's
feet raised a face of incredulity.
You give up the Brothers ven
geance?'
absolutely"
"You will not hold to your oath?"
81 have said no."
Scull looked up at him, a radiance
transferring his face.
God bless you, Laurence" he said
chokingly. you do not know what
death means. You have only your own
life; | have-God help me 1.-TWO lives
to live forl"
Lydia stopped quickly and lifted Da-
vid's hand to her lips.
She went hastily from the room. The
two men stood facing each other and
for a while there was silence. Then
David spoke slowly:
Are you going to remain here?'
Scull Strengthened himself up.
mol we shall go back to England.
I have robbed you of everything, and
you have given me everything. You
do not wish to see my face again. But
before 1 go 1 will tell Toinette the
truth. L"
David nodded YEARLY and went out.
A cold and dreary rain was still fall
ing, but a ray of light shone from the
tavern loo on the upturned face of the
dead Indian. David stopped and
looked down upon the sightless visage
for a moment and then laughed. The
dreadful features were twisted into a
smile as to ultimate victory, and a
little rivulet of rain trickled unceas-
ingly from the corner Of the mouth.
No more of wretched life; no more of
firewater!
n vide hand ofl1A nN-s1;N.nI L.
the pistol that hung heavily within the
folds of his own blouse. His fingers
frightened on it and his lips drew to-
gether in a harder line. . Why
not? The thing so easily, so
quickly done. . . Why not?
Was there anything remaining to
make him hold to life any longer?
What though Blackford did believe in
him? What though u hundred friends
believed in him? What mattered all
their friendships, their stupid greet
ings, the little kindnesses of daily in
t~ercourse? What did his dreams of
great things to be lone in this new
land amount to? Petty dreams, petty
tasks, buying and selling, squabblings
over pennies, wranglings over little
gains-a sordid prospect, the heritage
of fools.
The rain fell steadily, chilling him
to the very bones. Through its gray
%unceasing torrent he plodded, unchal-
lenged in his loneliness, to his own
in the village. Sodden with the
cold flood, sodden with quenched hopes, |
he sank heavily upon a chair and
bowed his head upon his hands, there
to sit for hours in a numb wrestling
with bitterness that were beyond his
power to shake off.
After a long while, he rose and drew
the pistol from its place-wiped the
dampness from its shining barrel and
RaZed at II with nnSeeing ewes.