Evening star., 1924-07-20

ITS no good. Janet. You can't
stand it. You must go back"
| NO" she said gently, I'm not goin'
back"
| A moment his fierce. sullen eyes
measured her. He repeated:
You can't stand it. l was mad to
think Of letting you share my-my
sufferings."
| a small, still smile just moved her
| lips. She said:
Does it hurt you to see me suffer,
! Anson?'
He answered honestly: You know
| 1t does"
Her eyes held him with their mys-
| terious, still look. She said almost
| in a whisper:
"Yet what ! suffer now, Anson.
| amt to be counted with what I'd
have suffered If I'd stayed behind"
Il don't understand you" he said
roughly.
7 only you wouldn't have seen me
suffer then
He had no reply for her. but again
and again during the next day she
saw him watching her with that dark,
brooding look. and she was glad.
At noon, when they stopped by a
pool to eat and drink, she saw herself
in the water. She was changed al
ready. Her skirt was torn, her hair
hung in dank strands, even her face
was thinned and hradened by fatigue.
She put up her hands instinctively to
remedy the disorder. then dropped
them. No. Let him see, let him not
be spared one least small sign of
what she endured.
THAT night she was so exhausted
that she slept before Anson could
bring her food. She woke in the
morning to see him beside her, look
ing darkly down. He said sullenly:
1--WE ought to have been on the
trail hours ago"
She saw that both his blankets as
we'll as her own covered her and that
beside her burned a small fire. She |
knew that he still feared pursuit. |
She said:
You shouldn't have lighted it. 1t
might be seem
He bit his lips then broke out vio-
lently:
Il know! But you needed it, You
had to have it. Janet. you must go
back"
You should have let me suffer, |
Anson. All those others did,
He did not notice her vague words |
He went on:
You can't stand il; can. But |
can't stand seeing what it costs you.
It's "a weight on me, Janet. I feel
as though I'd never get away-with
you here. You remind me- You
hinder me. l can't drag you along
with me-"
I'm not the drag you feel. Anson."
"If you love me, janet
Love" She caught him up. This
amt love, Anson. This is-justice."
His dark rage blazed in his face |
He stepped up to her, and she said |
quietly:
"Are YOU goin' to hit me. Ansone
Dominick Rend hit Mary Appleby that
time he'd had the fight with Everard |
Joyce, and she tried to hold him. |
And Lucy's dress was air tore with |
Garthwick Rend's spurs after he shot |
Col. Easton. He threw her down |
and trod over her to the window. 1t |
was yellow moire dress.
He stood motionless. his lean face !
white. At last he said with diff |
Guilty:
Who told you-that:-
Nobody. l just know it."
He turned from her then. He di- |
vided their food and small equipment |
in two parts. One of the packs he |
shouldered. The other he dropped at !
her feet.
Il shall not strike YOU" he said, |
"and shall not tell you again to go |
back. But you sha'n't spoil my chance |
Of escape. There's enough food here |
to see you home. You can choose |
which you'll do. But I swear that If |
you follow me, in spite of what I've |
told you, I'll stop for you no more |
than as if you were a stone or a bit !
Of grass"
He went away from her then, and |
in moment she shouldered her pack |
and followed silently.
He did not once look back She |
said to herself, with her mysterious
little smile: soon I'll know"
X X < X
CHE followed him all that day along |
rough trail soft with wet. When
she did not see his footprints, the
immemorial solitude of the evergreen
forests shut her in. When she found |
the footprints again, it was like find
ing freedom. OF him she had long
since lost sight.
Only twice she dared to stop for
rest and food. There would be miles
between them If she stopped too
often. She said: I'll know soon. ItIl |
be worth while to be sure
D;rrI
fire under a rock, ate. and fell into |
a sleep like swoon. From this black |
pit of Inconsistencies the first sun
light hauled her as by rope She |
made shift to light the fire again |
and boil some coffee. Then she trod |
out the embers, covered the place
with wet moss and took up the trail |
Her pack was not beyond her natural |
strength, but now it bent her down
she was so tired. Still. it was easier, |
thus, to see his footprints.
Presently she stopped, puzzled. |
There were Anson's tracks of the day |
before. But in a wet place there were |
no less than three distinguishable |
lines of his footprints, two leading |
away from her, one returning. I
Then she knew. He had come back |
in the night to see il she was safe |
Neither her face nor her purpose |
changed, but she bent and pressed |
the marks with her hands
That day, the fifth on the trail, she !
did not see Anson at all. She just |
walked, walked, walked All about |
her the great trees seemed to waver,
as if she walked through their re- |
Elections in water. and the air |
weighed heavy on her body.
The night seemed to fall suddenly. |