The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1921-04-15

ment of his solicitude for her, fretted
by mystification and the feeling OF
| Illustration. She imagined that her
pulses throbbed in time with those un-
hasting, unresting footballs. The temp
| tation to go out to him and comfort
him was all but stronger than her
instinct for self-preservation.
What did 1t matter whether Priscilla
Maine survived or persisted, so that
he were not made unhappy?
After all, what did she care wheth-
er he loved her by this name or by
that, so that he loved her?
Leonora was no more. Carnehan's
confession had confirmed Priscilla
| clairvoyant knowledge Of her death.
| No harm would be done to any living
| soul if she took his love for Leonora
and made it her own; Mario himself
would not be wronged; for the dead
could have loved him no better than
the living did and would, and all his
sadness would become gladness and
his sufferings he assuaged.
Aware-though she denied it-of the
abyss that yawned for her, she was
| constrained by sheer might OF will TO
put away thoughts such as these.
She had needed to remind herself
there could be no enduring happiness
/ in love that was won by fraud
| With determination she attacked the
problem: How to escape?
Her bedchamber had three windows
and, aside from that which opened
on the living room, two doors, of which
one gave access to the bathroom, the
other to Mario's room, which In turn
opened on the living room again.
With infinite stealth she closed and
locked that door.
Two of the windows looked out on
the front of the bungalow, the third
on the side. All were fitted with wire
screens to be raised and lowered like
ordinary glazed sashes. But the wood
had swollen since their installation /;
she could not bulge any of them. And
| when she thought of cutting the wire
! out of the frame, she found no tool
better suited to her needs than pair
! of curved manicure scissors.
Her only way out, then, was through
the living room. And Mario was
there. She would have to be patient.
If he felt as little disposed for bed
as she, after her -day-long sleep, she
would have long to wait.
She ransacked Leonora's slender
wardrobe. without finding any CLOTH
| ing more suitable for her flight than
the dress she had on. Apparently Leo
nora had found time to do but little
shopping for herself. She had not
needed many things to wear, so far
from civilization. Presumably she had
meant to wait till their return to
In the end Priscilla selected long
motoring coat of darkish stuff, rather
heavy, but not too heavy for night
in the hills. She found it not uncom-
Portable, indeed, when she sat down
to wait beside one of the windows.
She had extinguished the candles
which seemed to be the only means
of illumination the bungalow boosted.
The room was black, blacker far than
the night that glimmered beyond the
screens. A few stars were visible, not
many, only enough-as the phrase runs
Ito make the darkness visible. In
the beginning Priscilla could distin-
guish nothing but the stars. After
some time she was able to make out
the profile of the surrounding forest,
dense against the sky. 1t was hours
| before she could see more
She sat quite still, in the lassitude
of melancholy, lonely in the company
of her thoughts.
Once Mario came to the door and
tapped softly, calling on Leonora by
her name.
Priscilla made no sound. He was
soon discouraged, and did not repeat
the overture.
| Shortly after one o'clock Mario went
to his room, and for several minutes
candlelight shone at the bottom of the
communicating door like the minted
rim of a golden coin. When 1t went
out she heard him close the door to
the living-room. Whether he had re-
turned to the latter or had gone to
bed, she could not guess. Though she
crouched, listening, first at one door,
then at the other, till her limbs were
cramped, she heard no more sounds
beyond either.
The night grew bitterly cold.
Discomfort as much as impatience
at length overruled timidity and eau
ton. Warily opening the living-room
door, she found Mario seated in a
chair, facing her.
w. FLIGHT.
He had placed the chair within q
yard of the door. His feet, as he SAT
with legs extended, ankles crossed
were almost on the threshold. She
could hardly pass without stepping ov.
er them. He made no offer to move
Indeed, he did not stir finger. His
hands were clasped before him, his
head rested on the high back of the
chair, his face was masked in deep
| shadow, the deeper for the fire di.
rectly behind him, across the room
whose dying glow furnished the only
l light.
1t was long minute before. his
1 measured breathing revived her cour-
age. She sided out noiselessly in heI
stockinged feet, watching him sus-
picious1y. But the sleep that follows
an emotional crisis, always profound
annulled the precautions he. had tax.
en- to prevent precisely what was hap
pening.