The spectator., 1922-06-13

 ell; 1t had not even been moistened or 1t would have blurred. There was nothing upon 1t to tell how long ago it had been written; but 1t had been written certainly before June 12 After June 12." 1t said.
 That day was August the eighteenth.
 It was seven months since Uncle Benny had gone away. After his strange interview with her that day and his going home. had Uncle Benny gone out directly to his death? There was nothing to show that he had not; the watch and coins must have lain for many weeks, for months. in water and in sand to become eroded in this way. But, aside from this, there was nothing that could be inferred regard ing the time or place of Uncle Benny's death. That the package had been mailed from Manitowoc meant nothing definite. Some one-Constance could not know whom-had had the muffier and the scrawled leaf of directions; later. after lying in water and in sand, the things which were to be 'sent' had come to that some ones hand. Most probably this some one had been one who was going about on ships; when his ship had touched at Mani- towoc, he had executed his charge.
 Constance left the articles upon the bed and threw the window more wide ly open. She trembled and felt stirred and faint, as she leaned against the window, breathing deeply the warm air, full of life and with the scent of the evergreen trees about the house.
 The cottage of some twenty rooms stood among the pines and hemlocks interspersed with hardwood on ''the Point" where were the great fine sum- mer homes of the wealthier Ire sorters."
 This was Uncle Benny's country. Here. twenty-five years before. he had first met Henry. whose birthplace-a farm, deserted now-was only few miles back among the hills. Here. before that. Uncle Benny had been young man, active, vigorous, ambitious. He had loved this country for Itself and for it's traditions. Its Indian legends and fantastic stories. Half her own love for it-and. since her childhood, 1t had been to her a region of delight-was due to him and to the things he had told her about 1t. Dis tinct and definite memories of that companionship came to her. This lit- tie bay, which had become now for the most part only summer play ground for such as she. had been once a place where he and other men had struggled to grow rich swiftly; he had outlined for her the ruined lumber docks and pointed out to her the loca- tions of the dismantled sawmills. It was he who had told her the names of the freighters passing far out. and the names of the lighthouses. and something about each. He had told her. too, about the Indians. She re- membered one starry night when he had pointed out to her in the sky the Indian "Way of Ghosts" the Milky way, along which, by ancient Indian belief, the souls of Indians travelled up to heaven: and how. later, lying place where she could touch the dogs upon the hearth. he had pointed out to her through the window the Indian "Way of Dogs" among the constella- tions. by which the dogs too could make that journey. It was he who had told her about Michabou and the animals; and he had been the first to tell her of the Drum.
 The disgrace. unhappiness, the threat of something worse. which must have made death relief to Uncle Benny. she had seen passed on now to Alan. What more had come to Alan since she had last heard of him!
 Word had reached her father through shipping circles in May and again in July which told of inquiries regarding Uncle Benny which made her and her father believe that Alan was searching for his father upon the lakes. Now these articles which had arrived made plain to her that he would never find Uncle Benny; he would learn. through others or through themselves, that Uncle Benny was dead. Would he believe then that there was no longer any chance of learning what his father had done? Would he remain away because of that. not letting her see or hear from him againf
 She went back and picked up the wedding ring. The thought which had come to her that this was Alan's moth CTS wedding ring. had fastened itself upon her with sense of certainty. It defended that unknown mother; 1t freed her. at least, iron, the stigma which Constance's own mother had been so ready to cast. Constance could not yet begin to place Uncle Benny in relation to that ring but she was beginning to he able to think of Alan and his mother. She held the little band of gold very stenderly in her