Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-06-12
en- Island, But

slid from the table into her lap. Some
thing broke loudly IL the kitchen, and
Ireland rising to his feet, became con-
scious that the room was not steady.
He staggered and caught at the din
ing table. 1t slid to meet him, pinning
him against the wall. He looked at
the suspended lamp; it was swinging
like a pendulum and the glass prims
on it tangled fiercely.
Earthquake" he thought, and
fought with fierce, instructive desire
to rush out of the houSe-anywhere.
away from those threatening walls.
The lamp swung slowly now; its
prisms were ceasing to ring upon each
other. In the mind Of Ireland some
wild impulse, too, was slowing down,
some jangling thought was silenced.
Perhaps the earthquake had shaken
his soul as II shook the little house.
If so, the shock was past. In his mind
two words were sounding now, slowly.
like church bells; two words, over and
over:
"Clarie, od-by"
Suzanne was staring at him with
wide eyes. He thought he had never
seen eyes so large and dark, unless in
his own baby-oddly, it had missed it's
mothers russell hair and blue eyes and
his own pervading sandiness; it was a
dusky, pretty thing, with the tiniest
hands and feet. He'd never see those
feet learn to run across the floor now.
stop. Don't think!
Can / do anything for you?" he
asked the woman.
Yes" said Suzanne. "Give me my
bottle of drops"
What for?"
"They quiet me- she said, watch.
ing him closely.
ireland had not spent that year in
the medical schools for nothing.
III measure it," he told her, pick
ing up the bottle and fitting it over a
glass. 1t was preparation of opium
and other drugs, scarce strong enough
to be dangerous. but he did not intend
to run any chances.
He took the glass from Suzanne; she
had scarcely touched it, but he saw
her close her eyes and lie still, the lit
tie hands, with their freight of rings,
resting quietly on the lace of her
gown. Then he went over to the book
case and began looking for something
to read. Reading might be absurd
under the circumstances. but anything
was allowable that kept one from
thought.
There were a few popular novels: he
had read them all. There were some
technical handbooks. mostly about
gold mining: he didn't want to read
those. What else? SCOTS last voy-
age Of discovery. He knew it, but it
would serve.
T 1NDER the lamp that had not yet
quite settled down from it's violent
swinging. he sat. and 1eafed over the
pages. He had always admired Scott
and grudged. bitterly, Amundsen's
snatched victory. He read and real
on. 1t was good stuff. Better than
Suzanne's drops of forgetfulness.
BY the way, what had she been up to?
He lifted his eyes from the book,
and saw her watching him.
Are you in pain?" he asked.
She shook her head. That's fine.
she offered surprisingly. He had not
at is-very fine. Are you fond of
that sort Of thing?" he asked, his
finger at the death of Oates.
who. me?" she asked. I'm not
much of a one for reading, never was.
But read that. My second husband.
he was with Scott on one of his trips;
that was his book; he's mentioned In
it. I used to read it, and pick out the
places. l thought a lot of my second,
for a while. / never was one to stick
to any one overlong."
There was silence again for a while
silence broken only by the growing
rumble and rumor of the mountain
overhead.
Its gettin' louder" she said. Ire
land knew that, had known it for some
time II wish" she said, 81 wish it
would have let one go quiet. 1 was
going quiet. I'd have had another
week or two-just the trees and the
flowers outside. and the bit of sky,
and the sea sounding pleasant down
below: and Mahina to do for me. and
lay me out decently / didn't think.
times when I was down in Sydney and
on the Tanami and when these other
fields broke out didn't think I'd