The Ordway new era., 1917-12-21

troll of himself.
Were you thinking about that wom-
an?' he asked sternly.
"What woman?"
"The woman whom We sheltered
here, the woman whose shameless pic
ture is on the cover Of that book"
John swung round on his heel.
"Stop that, Stephen !" he said men-
acingly.
"Why should II" the older man re-
torted. Take up that paper, IL you
want to read n sketch of the life Of
Louise Maurel. See the play she made
her name in-La Gioconda'!'
"What about it?'
Stephen held the paper out to his
brother. John read n few lines and
dashed 1t into corner Of the room.
There's this much about 1t, John"
Stephen continued. 1.-THE woman played
that part night after night-played 1t
TO the life, mind you. She made her
reputation In It. That's the woman
we unknowingly let sleep beneath this
roof! The barn is the place for her
and her sort"
Johns clenched fists were held firm
ly to his sides. His eyes were blazing.
"That's enough Stephen!" he cried.
NO it's not enough" :" was the fierce
reply" ''The truths been burning in my
heart long enough. It's better out.
You want to find her a guest at Rayn-
ham castle. do you?-Raynham castle,
where never n decent woman crosses
the threshold! If she goes there, she
goes Well?"
An anger that was almost paralyZ-
Ing, n sense of the utter impotence of
words, drove John in silence from the
room. He left the house by the back
door, passed quickly through the or
chard. where the tangled moonlight lay
upon the ground in strange fantastic
shadows; across the narrow strip OF
field. field now of golden stubble; up
the hill which looked down upon the
farm buildings and the churchyard.
He sat grimly down upon a great
bowlder, filled with hateful sense of
unwreaked passion, yet with a sheer
thankfulness in his heart that he had
escaped the miasma of evil thoughts
which Stephens words seemed to have
created. The fancy seized him to face
| these half-veiled suggestions of his
brother, so far as they concerned
| himself and his life during the last
| few months.
| Stephen was right. This woman who
had dropped from the clouds for those
few brief hours had played strange
havoc with Johns thoughts and his
| NIhnta nrrtlnpt- 1ifn bn ~
of harvest, the care of his people, his
sports, his cricket, the early days upon
the grouse mOors. had all suddenly
lost their interest for him. Life had
become a task. The echo of her half
mocking. half-challenging words was
always in his ears.
He sat with his head resting upon
his hands, looking steadfastly across
the valley below. Almost at his feet
lay the little church with its grave.
yard, the long line of stacks and barns
the laborers' cottages, the bailiff's
house. the whole little colony around
which his life seemed centered. The
summer moonlight lay upon the grount
almost like snow. He could see TIL,
sheaves of wheat standing up in th'
most distant of the cornfields. Beyont
was the dark gorge toward which h
had looked so many nights at thi
hour.
Across the viaduct there came
blaze of streaming light, n serpentlik
trail, family heard whistle-the Scot
tish express on its way southwar
toward London. His eyes followed
out of sight. He found himself think
| ing of the passengers who would wax
| the next morning in London. He fel
! himself suddenly acutely conscious G
his isolation. Was there not somethin
. almost monastic in the seclusion whic
had become a passion with StepheI
and which had Its grip. too, upor. him
' waste Of life, burying Of talents
e He rose to his feet. The half-forme
t purpose Of weeks held him now, del
mite and secure. He knew that this pi
grimage of his to the hilltop, his RAJ
a contemplation Of the little panoram
!. which had become so dear to him, WI
In sense valedictory.
81 .
After an, two more months passt
before the end came, and Il came the
1 without q moments warning. Il VI
{ . hide past midday whsn John drov
: slc~1y through IL strsses - Hafk
. Kestn II his hlsA dsecart, sxehangil