Western news and the Libby times. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1920-1933, 1932-07-21
NAN MADE 1HETOWN
64RuBY M.MRES

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faded as she saw Rathbone's face.
"Why-sir-" she stammered.
/ He waved her away impatiently.
j Its all right. You can go. You hat
better go to bed / shall stay till tn
morning"
IF you would like me to stay :. ;
Anna ventured timidly.
No. Markham's up if | want any
thing"
| Anna crept away, closing the dool
behind her
CHAPTER XVI
| Rathbone went back to his old place
beside Diana
There was a curious gray look in
his face, and he sat for a long time
his hands clenched between his knees,
his eyes staring blankly before him
He kept seeing nightmare pictures Of
river, Of woman and of a boy
a boy who had given his life in on
unavailing attempt to save her.
Hobson had broken down and sobbed
as he told how they had at last found
them:
"Clasped in each others arms they
were-as if she'd chung to him and
dragged him down. I'd have given my
life, sir, rather than anything should
have happened to her -"
Diana stirred little in her sleep,
and Rathbone turned his head slowly
and looked at her. Better Rosalie's
life than this childs, if one Of them had
to CO.
If it had been Diana the last
six weeks rose before him, a night
mare panorama.
He tried to do the best thing for her
and he had done the worst He had
meant to be kind, and he had only
succeeded in being brutally cruel.
In an aching imagination he saw her
again sitting at that long dining table
In her white frock-so far away from
him and SO brave. He had not guessed
that 1t had been as great a torment
to her as it had been to him
Surprising he had still been awava
he knew that the chances were that
Diana would have died. This night had
settled all question Of the future: not
again would he let her go way from
him. ;. He would have to find some
way. Then suddenly he remem-
bered-the river-and Hobson's broken
story.
He was free, but at what cost
The life of the woman whom he had
cared for and sheltered for SO many
years, and the life of a boy who as
yet had known nothing of life. Per-
haps in that Jonas was fortunate: ne
was dreamer and dreamers suffer.
Rathbone knew that now the story
OF his marriage would have to made
known; something fresh for the claws
OF gossiping vultures to tear to pieces.
Not that he cared for himself, but it
hurt him inexpressibly for Diana's
sake, and in lesser degree for Rosa
lies She had meant nothing in his
life, and yet he knew he would never
forget her, the pitiful, unreal thing that
had lived for so long in his shadow.
Resale, wife of Donald Rathbone. 2
That was what the vultures would
expect him to write on her tombstone.
there seemed something Of sardonic
humour in it as he sat there, his ewes
on Diana's.
She was his wife-the one love Of
his life; even if he had never seen her
again, nobody would ever have drawn
near to her place in his heart.
Half child, half woman, spoilt wilful
-intolerant of life when it went the
way she did not visible yet loved
Ter with every impulse Of his man
hood
And she loved him; for a moment
ne lost himself in the wonder of that
Of her sleeping face.
Somewhere in the house clock
'himed six, and he stood up, stretching
lis arms, feeling wearied to death, and
yet, amidst all the tragedy surround
ng him, conscious of quiet, perfect
happiness which nothing could spoil.
Diana stirred little, as if conscious
u his movement, fearing that he was
eaving her.
Rathbone stood still, and she turned
Ter head, looking at him with half
eyes, whispering his name.
Donald =
Yes, my heart"
Her hand fluttered little towards
lin, and he took it in his, quiet and
trongly, as if with it he took her also
,ody and soul.
He saw little doubt flicker cross
Ter eyes and vanish.
lt--isn't a dream?" she asked