White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1922-11-24
I1EIllY!|Iln Mas I o. e.
O. RdllilIia III Is
~ BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
y ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

II 10 SOuc, BIC iCPCulCu w hdt
is gomez"
"The body" said l. why are you
not with your husband?'
Gomez" said she. You cannot
have looked Come back"
There is no light now said |. ~
dare not"
Il can see in the dark. have been
Standing here SO long-so long" said
she. Come; give me your hand"
We returned to the shrubbery hand
in hand, and to the fatal place.
Take care of the Wood" said l.
"Blood?" she cried, and started vic.
lently back.
Il suppose it will be-" said l. 81
am like blind man."
No said She nothing! Have you
not dreamed?"
"Ah, would to God we had!' cried l
She spied the sword, picked 1t up
| and, seeting the blood, let 1t fall again
| with her hands thrown wide. "Ah!"
DIG CllCu anu tAoL, Will dI iiottlIt
courage, handled 1t the second time
and thrust 1t to the hilt into the froz-
en- ground. Il will take it back and
clean it properly" says she, and again
looked about her on all sides. ut
cannot be that he was dead?" she
added
nr,l lync nf 10 q Yf
said |, and then remembering: why
are you not with your husband?"
1T is no USE" said she, "he will not
speak to me-"
Not speak to your | repeated
ooh, you have not tried!"
"You have right to doubt me-"
she replied, with a gentle dignity.
At this, for the first time, wa
seized with sorrow for her. God
knows, madam" l cried, God knows
am not SO hard as appear; on this
dreadful night, who can veneer his
words? But am a friend to all who
are not Henry Durie's enemies!"
ut is hard, then, you should hest
tate about his wife," said she.
saw all at once, like the rending
of veil, how nobly she had borne
this unnatural calamity. and how gen
erously my reproaches.
I'VE must go back and tell this to
my lord" said l.
Him / cannot face" she cried
You will find him the least moved
of all of u.s." said l.
"And yet cannot face him. said
She
Well" said l, you can return to
Mr.. Henry; l will see my lord
| AS we walked back, bearing the
strange burden for that woman-she
had another thought Should we tell
Henry?" she asked
Let my lord decide" said L.
My lord was nearly dressed when
came to his chamber He heard me
| with frown. "The free-traders,"
said he. But whether dead or
alive?"
81 thought him" said l. and
paused, ashamed of the word
II know; but you may very we'll
have been in error. Why should they
remove him If not living?" he asked
| ooh, here is great door of hope
1t must be given out that he depart
ed-as he came-without any note of
preparation. We must save all
candal."
l saw he had fallen, like the rest
of us, to think mainly of the house.
Now that all the living members of
the family were plunged in irremed
liable sorrow, it was strange how we
turned to that conjoint abstraction
of the family itself, and sought to
bolster up the airy nothing of its rep
utation; not the Duries only, but the
hired steward himself.
Are we to tell Mr.. Henry?'
asked him.
II will see,' said he II am going
first to visit him, then I go forth with
! you to view the shrubbery and con-
| slider"
We went downstairs into the hall.
| Mr. Henry sat by the table with his
head upon his hand, like man of
stone. His wife stood little back
| from him, her hand at her mouth;
it was plain she could not move him.
My old lord walked very steadily to
here his son was sitting; he had
steady countenance, too, but me-
thought little cold; when he was
come quite up, he held out both
hands and said: my son!"
With broken, strangled cry, Mr.
Henry leaped up and fell on his faith
ers neck, crying and weeping, the
most pitiful sight that ever man
witnessed. "Oh, father" he cried,
you know loved him; you know
I loved him in the beginning; /
could have died for him-you know
that. would have given my life
for him and you. Oh, say you know
that! Oh, say you can forgive me!
Oh, father, father. what have done
what have l done? And we used to
be BARNS together!" and wept and
sobbed, and fondled the old man. and
II. l.. A..