F
ILouis
Beclie
AutTior oi
Rodman
ss. the Boat
OtC . -TV
4 V'
bright light of myriad stars the little barque glided over the
silent sea.
An hour before the dawn Maudsley. who was feeling bet
ter, had taken the wheel, whilst Packenham and the others
were ranging the cnblo ready for anchoring. The clang and
thump of the heavy Iron links as they fell on deek seemed
to put new life Into the crew, and even those lying sick
1 1 the house came out Into the cooling morning air, and with
weakened arms and trimbllng knees helped to flake the chain
along, ship shape.
Just as they had finished, and as the first yellow ligh's
of the rising sun were dispersing the thick mists of Schoutcn
mountains on Fotuna Island, the steward came softly up to
Maudsley and touched his arm.
"The seeoml mate Is dead, sir."
Maudsley's hands gripped the spokes of the wheel tightly,
and then he ran his eye aloft before he answered.
"Was he conscious, steward?"
" Tes. sir he was Just at the last. He arst fur you, sir,
an' when I told Mm that you was at he wheel, an the skip
per an' the rest of the hands were gettin' ready for anchorln",
he say to me. ' Don't mil the mate, steward, but tell' lin ns
there's a letter under my plller for some one as he's a-hcara
HK Montlara, barque, of Sydney, from the New
Tl Hebrides to Samoa with a cargo of black labor,
"I was lying becalmed upon a sea of glass, with
I the pitch bubbling up between Its deck seams.
Ten miles away to the eastward the verdured
slopes of two Islands Fotuna and Alofl which
an hour before had shown a vivid and enchant
ing green, were now changing to a dulled pur
ple under the last rays of an angry, blood red sun.
As four bells struck John Maudsley, the chiif mate, came
up on deck from the main hold and, walking quickly aft.
Joined the captain on the poop.
" Packenham," he said wearily, as he took off his broad
straw hat and fanned his heated face, " there's another poor
devil Just pegged out one of the Santa Cruz boys. Thirteen
In twenty-one days! and unless we get a breeze soon they'll
begin to die like rotten sheep. Look here, old man, It's no
use talking, we must let a batch of say thirty up on deck at
once. It will at least give the rest some more air."
The two men looked Into each other's faces for a few
moments In silence, then Packenham spoke.
" It's terribly risky, Maudsley. There are only three
sound men In the ship besides you and I, and It would simply
be asking those Tanna and Pentecost niggers to cut our
throats and take the ship. What chance should we have,
old man, with even only a dozen of them If they knew our
weakness? Can't you get the sick men to come up on deck?"
" No. They are sulky and savage, and would rather die
down there with suffocation. There are now quite half a
dozen of them sickening. Tried to get one fellow up on his
feet to bring him on deck, but his countrymen looked so
threateningly at me that I had to desist."
" Any of the Tanna and Pentecost boys sick yet?"
" No; It would be a deuced good thing for us if they were.
They're the crowd who are bent on mischief. So far only the
Banks Islanders have been attacked, and they We the least
dangerous of the lot. Something must be done, Packenham.
Always thought measles was a baby's complaint, didn't you?
I say, old man, look out for the deck for a bit and send for
some coffee. I've got a bit of a twister coming on. O, this
Is a lovely trip! All hands but Ave down with fever, measles
among the ' cargo 'the greater portion of which Is only wait
ing Its chance to cut our throats; and a beastly, furious calm
to boot."
".SIteward, bring some coffee, quick," cried Packenham,
lis Maudsley, with chattering teeth and shaking limbs,
trawled up between the upended wings of the skylight, and
clawing his knees to his chest, lay down on his side, whilst
te captain hastily covered him with rugs and blankets
un)il the ague fit was past and the bone wracking agonies
ofi the fever began.'
.' The steward brought the eoUee, and Maudsley raised
himself on his elbow and caught sight of the captain stand-
g over him.
" Hang you, Packenham, what the devil are you doing
ere?" he chattered. In querulous. Irritable tones: " T-m nil
ht. You tta and set that 'tween Aprt tnri.loi- nn if v,
rs mean to matte a ruin dim mnn nMth a r,,r,
em. Take a look below first, and see what they're
If It wasn't murder to do so In such weather I d clan
tne ajUcnes on. , , .
The-sklpper of the Montlara was well used to his mate's
language, torthe two men were old and tried comrades;
and in all matTera "Concerning natives Packenham always
gave way to his subordinate; for Maudsley was not only his
chief officer but "recruiter" as well, and no man who ever
sailed the Pacific had more nerve and a greater knowledge
of native custom and character, nor had displayed It so often
In the face of the deadliest danger.
Packenham walked along to the main deck and looked
down the hatchway, but the fast gathering darkness pre
vented him from discerning' more than the recumbent fig
ures of his " cargo," with here and there the gleam of a
surreptitious pipe or a clgaret of negrohead tobacco rolled
In a dried bnnana leaf. A sailor, armed with a revolver and
cutlass, was pacing to and fro across the for'ard end of the
hatchway, and presently Packenham motioned him to haul
up the light ladder. This was done without noise; and then
the captain went to the deckhouse, and, putting his head
In at the door, addressed the occupants (six A. B.s) which
It contained.
"Here. I say, you fellows, can't you shake off a bit of
fever? Why, there's the mate, who Is worse than any of
you, and whose teeth are going like a cotton gin at full
speed, dancing a Jig on the poop to himself. Come, buck up,
my lads."
Then raising the lamp he surveyed the place, examined
the men's carbines and pistols, and then went on his usuai
nightly round along the deck of the disease smitten ship.
Ten minutes later he rejoined Maudsley, who was now sitting
up, clad only in his pyjaraa trousers, and pressing his throb
bing head between his hands as the fever ran fiercely througn
his boiling veins.
"Pack!" he began excitedly, "there's a bit of an air up
aloft Look over the side and you'll see we're moving. Does
it stir, Harry?"
" No, sir, not yet," answered the helmsman.
Packenham looked aloft, and then over the side.
" You're right, Maudsley, a breeze is coming sure enough,
and a breeze means everything to us; we can run Into
Slngavl bay on Fotuna, One of the two French priests there
Ct tXk 4Ulk.
0 . - WW P W W t
11
me a-spenkln' of.' An' without another word, sir, he turns
oi: his side, an' dies nice and quiet."
" All right, steward. Go below and get me a stiff glass of
biandy. And. look, while I think of it, put that letter of Mr.
l.-elton'a In the captain's cabin. Hurry up now, you little
ccckney swab, and bring me that brandy-I want it."
-
Is a doctor, and we can put the sick people ashore at any
rate."
Maudsley gave an irritated laugh.
"Don't be a fool. I know you're not a brute; but why
the deuce don't you think of what you're saying? There's a
thousand natives on Fotuna, and it would be a low down,
dirty thing for us to do to dump these measly brutes of ours
among them. If we did, the chances are that there wouldn't
be another native left alive on the Island In a month. Now,
this Is my Idea; If we can get up under the lee of Alofl wo
can anchor. There ia no one living there at least that I
know of as the Island Is only used by the Fotuna people
for their yam plantations, and they seldom go there. There's
good holding ground under the west point ten miles away
from Fotuna."
Packenham nodded.
" I see; go ahead."
" Well, as soon as we get there let us land the whole lot
Tanna boys, Pentecost boys, and the Banks islanders.
Plenty of cocoanuts, yams, and taro, and, above all, a fine
stream of running water. They'll be as right as rain there;
and then while you and the hands disinfect tho hold and the
rest of the ship I'll start off for Slngavl In the boat with a
couple of hands and see If the French priest the medicine
man fellow will come back with me. By heaven, Pack, he'll
have to come. We mustn't let these poor fellows die like
rctten sheep. And I dure, say he can give us some quinine
for the hands; the last was used yesterday."
" Look here, Maudsley; you give the word, and I'll do
whatever you say must be done. Hurrah! here's the breeze
now, and no mistake but nearly dead ahead."
"Never mind that," said Maudsley, languidly; "we can't
pick up the anchorage tonight, but we'll be near enough at
daylight. Try and fix that wlndsail, Pack, so that some of
this cool breeze goes down Into the hold."
Packenham, with the three seamen who were able to work,
and the steward, set to and trimmed the sails, and under the
The steward disappeared without ft word, and soon cumo
en deck again with half a tumblerful of liquor.
The chief mate, his hand now quite steady, took the glass.
" Thank you, Bteward. You're no cockney swab, but a
rood little chap. There's a $J0 gold piece In the top afcet
drawer of my locker that's for you. You see I've got the
ftver pretty bad this time, and as like as not I'll slip my
cb!e you know what that means, my borough road fried
f.sh eating friend, don't you, though you're no sailor man?
Sometimes It means going to hell suddenly Instead of having
a parson to ready ' you up for it, though as like ns not he'H
tf li you that you'll appear as white as snow before the throne.
Clear out, hang you! What the devil are you staring at?
the skipper will want his coffee presently."
The steward, an under sized, bent shouldered old man,
placed his hand on the edge of the skylight and looked Into
Maudsley's face. '
" You're 111, sir. I can see that. Can't I call one of the
hands, sir, to take the wheel?"
" No, you can't, do below and get that $20 piece and stow
It away and clap a stopper on your Jaw tackle, you silly old
fool!"
Presently Packenham came aft, and stood beside him.
" We're all ready for'ard, Mautly."
"Right you are. Pack. We'll go about presently; another
half hour will bring us close enough, I think, though I can't
see where we are well as yet. Take a cast of the lead, will
you, old man, as soon as we are In stays? O, God! Look
there!" and he sprang down off to the main hatch and tried
to beat back the upward rush of three score or more of nakea
savages with his clenched fists.
Packenham and the three seamen ran to his aid, and then
began a deadly struggle the white men trying to hurl back
the savages Into the hold Instead of using their revolvers.
But in less than ten seconds one of the sailors was thrown
down upon his back and his brains dashed out with a toma
hawk; then, and not till then, was a shot fired. Packenham
was the first to bring his pistol Into play, and none too soon,
for a huge Tanna man had seized him by the beard with his
left hand and in. another moment would have driven a knife
into his heart. The sharp crack of the revolver was foi
lowed by another and another, and each time a native went
down; then came the loud reports of the seamen's carbines,
and the lust of slaughter had seized upon them all. as, fling
ing aside their firearms, they drew their heavy cutlasse
and slashed, and cut, and stabbed the naked figures of the
now maddened Islanders. Up to this time not more than
thirty had succeeded In actually gaining the deck by means of
the ladder they had so cunningly made and placed In poBt
t.'on, and of these eight or ten were lying either dead or dying,
many more had beon hurled below, and the rest, when
thi-y saw rarkenham cut down two of their number and the
toatswain smah the skull of a third with the butt of his
carbine, turned mid tied for'ard. Some of them ran up the
tore rigping. and these were picked off one by one by Tommy
Samoa and tho other seamen when Maudsley struck their
weapons from their hands and fiercely bade them cease such
uselrss slaughter.
"On with the hatches." he said pantlngly, as he stooped
ever the coamings and pulled up the ladder the tiatlves Una
I laced In position a mere bamboo mle with half a d'zen
cross pieces lashed to It with cinnet " on with the hatches,
men. They'll give In now, but we must tako no further risks,
mid there must be no more of this Moody work."
As tho hatches were being put on Maudsley leant over and
looked at the savages below. They bad all gathered as far
ft as possible, believing that the whites men, now daylight
l ad come, would open fire on them.
Maudsley bade them to remain quiet; their lives would
be spared, he said. If they obeyed him. Then he callid to
those of th ir number w ho were aloft, an.l told them to com
oown and go below. Tiny Ft.irod at him sulbnly Hiid refined.
"Tlun stay there, you brutes," he said with a curse;
" they can't hurt us, Packenham, up there. Now Kt us get
t anchor."
A cut from a tomahawk had laid open his cheek, and
Tackenham, who himself had a knife thrust In tho arm.
quickly bound It up, and then Maudsley again went aft to the
wheel and brought the barque to anchor under a high wooded
bluff on the w stern point of Alotl Island and In water as
chlm as that of a mountain lake. The bodies of tho dead
natives were then thrown overboard, and that of tho white
pallor carried aft anil laid beside the second mate's cabin.
Then, when those of the crew who had been wounded had
hail their hurls attended to by captain and steward, the en
sanguined dicks were, washed down, coffee and biscuits wera
served out, and M uidsley went for'ard and again urged the
Tanna men who were aloft to come down.
"If we are to dlo, wo can dlo here," was their sullen I
answer. '
The whlto man was losing patience, tho wound on hla
faco made him feel sick and faint, and a sudden spasm of
ague shook bis frame. Ho took his pistol from his belt.
" I promise you that no harm shall bo done to you if you
come clown quickly an.l go Into the hold with your country
men. Have I ever lied to you?"
" No." replied the oldest man of the four a wild eyed,
vicious faced brute, with his hair twisted Into countless tiny
curls, which hung In a greasy tangle down his neck.
" Then do as I bid you, or I shall kill you from where
I stand quick!" and ho raised his right hand.
Slowly and suspiciously they descended, still grasping their
blood stained knives and tomahawks. As they reached the
deck they stopped and glared about them with the ferocity
and fear of hunted boars.
" Keep back there, men," said Maudsley to the crew,
who were standing near tho malnhatch, " they'll want a bit
of coaxing. Hang a line over the for'ard end of the hatch
pi that they can get down." Then putting his revolver back
Into Its pouch, ho unbuckled the belt and laid it down on
the windlass.
"Now, come with me. men of Tanna," he said quietly,
" no one shall hurt you. See, I hold no weapon In my hand,
and tho rest of tho white men, too, have laid down their
guns." Beckoning to them to follow, ho walked to the
hatchway, then turned and faced them.
" Now listen. Take hold of the rope and go down one by
one. And tell your countrymen and the men of Pentecost
that If they sit dwn quietly until the sun Is high in the
sky they shall have food and water given them. Then when
all tho badness is out of their minds they shall come on deck,
ten at a time, and tho smell of blood will no longer be In our
nostrils. Hut before fixxl and water Is given every tomahawk
pnd every club must be brought on dock to mo by two men.
Now give mo these," and ho reached his hands out for the
weapons they themselves carried.
Two heavy butcher knives anel ono tomahawk were,
after a little hesitation, given up, and were at once thrown
over the sides and tho three disarmed savages went below;
the fourth man still clutched his tomahawk tightly.
" Come, be quick," said MaudHley, " give it to me."
"Take It, white men!" and the native, swinging the keen
edged weapon swiftly above his head, struck it deep Into the
officer's side, and with a yell of triumph he sprang over the
side and swam for the shore only to throw up his arms and
sink, s Packenham sent a bullet through his head before
he was twenty yards from the ship.
" I'm done for, Packenham, old man. No, don't carry ma
aft, time's too short. There's a letter for poor Belton's girl.
Pack, which you must glvo to her. Tell her she must for
give me for tempting him to ship on this cruises my last
cruise, old man." '
Gently they lifted and carried him aft, and quickly rigged
an awning, for the sun was blazing hot and fiercely upon the
vessel's decks. Then Packenham, with the quick falling tears
coursing down his bronzed and bearded face, knelt beside
the dying man and took his hand.
Maudsley opened his eyes and smiled at his captain and
gave a faint answering pressure. " Don't you worry, old
fellow. Somehow I don't much care. But It was hard for
poor Belton to dies he was a bright young shaver, and a
gentleman. I've got my gruel this time, and I'm not going
t make a song over It. And I'm no loss to any one."
Then In slow, labored words he told Packenham what
should be done. The sick natives should be put ashore as
soon as possible; the rest disarmed and kept confined till aid
could be obtained from the white traders in Fotuna, who
would And htm native sailors to help to sail the barque to
Samoa. Nothing escaped him, nothing wasforgotten.
"How does It He, bid man?" he asked presently.
" Snug as possible, Jack," answered tho captain brokenly.
" Plenty of room to swing If the wind comes from the
westward?"
"Plenty, Jack, old man; I've sent the boat to Slngavl for
the French priest. It should be back by noon."
Maudsley shook his head. " I don't want any doctoring,
Pack. That buck sent it home properly." Suddenly, by a
mighty effort he half raised himself.
" Steward, boatswain, come here; I want you fellows to
witness that I have said that all money coming to me for
ihls cruise Is to be paid to Capt. Packenham." Then he
sank back again and motioned to the captain to come closer.
"Jack," he whispered, " send It all to Helton's girl."
Packenham bent his heud, and then Maudsley, the re
cruiter, gave a long, heavy sigh and closed his eyes his last
cruise was ended.
THE ANGEL OF THE WARD
By Robert Halifax.
OW comes It She's never got married?" I ask.
HI "Explain it! A woman with that face that
1 voice, that touch ah, you can't tell me! Call
I her a walking iceberg here, don't they? Know
what I call her? It's written on this here wall,
In letters they can't rub out' Ange'l of the
Ward.' Laughln', are you? 'Scuse me, mate,
you're a born fool) I'm old, as things go, and
I know what I know. There's a secret somewhere a mys
tery with a heart still beatln' In It; and tlme'll bear me out."
Outside lay a deep, darkling reach of the river that wound
away toward the sea and eternity. Here inside all was light
htpe, and warmth; subdued whisperings and low ripples of
laughter came from the group of nurses at the far end of the
main ward. Presumably the "angel" was not among them;
the grizzled, brown old sailor In the corner bed sniffed ana
resumed his husky, strenuous mutterlngs to the wide eyed
young fellow in the bed adjoining.
Grimly crude, but terribly earnest, the old salt had sprung
a subtlety upon the other patients.
Your hospital nurse," be Insisted with warmth; " was
S, womanand something Infinitely more than that. Wnat!
It sounded In her steady step. In her clear, quiet voice- It
was the something deep In her calm eyes that could make
the boldest man feel somehow less than a man." And he
said this after Sister Lou had hovered over his bed for two
rlirnt. burning, awful nights In succession, while fever strug
gled for a grip, and the pendulum swung between life and
death. I'nknown to her, he had noted many little facts that
set him wondering whether life was what it seemed, after
ull. Anyway, a great knot stopped all the words In his
throat, when, one cool morning, she put a hand on his fore
head and whispered:
" There! Doctor says you are tohave your lease renewed.
Thankful? Going to make the most of it this time? No
dead mother to remember?"
Such a hand," he muttered In awe; " like a wisp o' lost
snow strayed on to a gasping desert And such a whlspee,
as if all read all his past and his bit of a future! As long as
he lived he'd never understand why why-she wasn't wed
ded, to make some man's life paradise."
Thst was his queer point of View. There was another of
course. Women dive ff reasons when a man Is content to
bask In tho mere effect The other nurses were definitely
agreed that stately, silent Bister Lou had a past of her own.
and was living with the sole determination to forget It. They
loved her at a distance and, possibly, were Jealous of her
glorious calm, and of the many touching little keepsakes
furtively left in the lobby " for Sister Lou."
That night that particular night, when, as they say, she
came back to life Sister Lou had been assigned to relieve
the 0 o'clock nurse In charge of the Incipient fever ward.
It was fifteen minutes to the hour when she came Into
the main ward, bathed hands and face In antiseptic fluid,
donned the gown and hood that made her look like a pale
nun, took her Instructions In mechanical silence, and rustled
down the long corridor for the night as softly as a breath of
summer wind. There was Just one new case, matron had
said, it might mean anything or nothing; developments
must be watched and recorded. All was so quiet in the bullej
Ing now that a sound from the weirld outside could be fell
Perhaps sixty seconds had elapseel when, after gauging
the temperature of the main ward the matron stepped down
that corridor to open a window. She pause'd to glance out
fit the river lying like a web of silver sequins In the moon
light; and in that brief moment something happened.
She heard a swift confused little rush of feet and a suc
cession of suffocating gasps. Then one of the dividing cur
tains had flashed back, and was framing a never forgotten
picture. Sister Lou, her slight figure drawn up In trembling
rigidity, her face white as whitest marble, queer little sobs
clicking her teeth, her wide eyes staring back us If at some
thing that breathed and waited beyond the next curtain. That
suggestion, Indeed, came so naturally, so vividly, that the
matron swept past and found herself pluc'klpg back the folds
In wonder, before she thought of asking a simple question
"There was nothing nothing at all!" said Lou.
"Sister Lou!" she whispered, with chilling digulty. "I
am surprised! What on earth am I to think?"
"Pleas.- forget! It was nothing-noihin!" She put cm
htf hands and said It with what sounded almost like a pant
liiK laugh of contempt at her own fiar. "Don't send me
there tonight neit tonight!"
"IK.n t end you there?" The matron lacked her brains
to recall a precedent, but could not do It. She looked at the
white, pleading, defiant face. "Come Into my private room."
"No. no; I don't wish any one to know! Let me stand
here a minute; Just a minute. You ar a woman, too; you can
see it Is real! Yes; t may be mistaken, but 1 thoueht I saw
X was don't leave inu!" the breatliksa gasp bruks oft.
" You won't leave me? You won't leave me, will you?"
The matron reflected, stepped back, and turned the key
In the main ward door. Perhaps she understood physical
agony better than mental.
"Now! I must either know, or ring up the house sut
(.on. Yeni saw what? Turn your eyes away from that cur
tain; look straight at me!" She put her hand on the slight,
shrinking shoulder. " Come, dearie; is It not time you leild
Just one woman what shadow lies over your life? Tell me
trust me!"
A moment more, and then came the calm too calm
whisper: " I loved him! I was living for him, and would have died
lot him! I was so happy, so sure! It almost broke my heart
to let him sign away for three years more at sea, but a
wouldn't let him know that. It was to be his last trip; he
had promised. He was to write often; 1 was to be his dear
wife; I had only to wait and wait; I had only to be as br eve
as thousands of women had been before me. . . . He wrote
Just two letters. Think of a woman waiting all those years
for a step and a voice that were never to sound! He had for
gotten me; he had seen some one whose face was more beau
tiful thun mine. That was the man who had made me love
Mm until I lived upon the hope of his truth! He went away
yet again; he had watched and waited outside In the dark,
ashamed to face me and ask my forgiveness. Did he know
did he know the white wedding dress here In Its tissue paper
sheets, every stitch drawn by my own fingers' He knew, at
least, he had taken all the light from a woman's life. I havei
lived only to forget him, to hate him, to pray that I might
never se e him again. Because If I saw -him " The calm
breath breike erfT. She pointed. "And he la there!"
Deepest silence, within and without, broken at last by
the matron's lowered voice.
" And you have won your battle? you hate him you can
forget?'
It was part pity, part vague misgiving, that prompted the
question.
Sister Lou had not seemed to hear. Drawn up rigidly
Hill, she pointed along the corridor. Tragedy's own wan
fingers seemed to l hollowing lines on her face as she stood.
"Forgive you?" She whispered It with quivering, nume
b'ss scorn, us If tha man's imploring glance had followed
he r here and put the question. " Can you dure you ttsk it?
L'n you bring back lbs sunlight to my dttrksned life?"
The matron suddenly clutched her arm, and drew he
away. It was contented, phlegmatic Sister Carrie who
relieved the wondering nurse In the isolated ward that night.
And for quite two hours the matron kept a careful eye on
the corridor between.
It would have been close on mldn'ght. The lights In the
isolated ward were low. Only a few of the beds were elo
quently humped, and sleep seemed to hold the room; Sis
ter Carrie had thought It safe to doze and dream 'for five
minutes, her white and plump hands folded on her lap. So
no one heard the baize covered door open.
Sister Lou, In the hood and gown, stole In. Pale and calm,
she looked like a woman obeying the Impulse of some dream.
Slowly, Boundlessly, across to that bed she moved. Now
she craned forward to listen to his breathing; one hand
fembled out as to touch and wake him; she withdrew It
with a shiver. Was ho sleeping? His eyes were twltchingly
closed, his fingers were drawn up and clenched on air, as it
the mind had been in agony, his head rocked hopelessly on
the pillow. He was a man once it had been vouchsafed to
him to And and win his true mate; and now all was lost.
" Lou! Listenln" Lou?"
It came suddenly up to her the thin, strenuous breath.
Only dreams! All his body was twitching convulsively now,
shaken by the tense pain of regret. It might almost have
seemed that a telepathic message had stirred his confused
brain and prompted him to whisper that name. Sister Lou
vas not to know that he had been breathing some such words
at Intervals for hours.
"Lou! I see her there, wavin' good-by to me and tryln'
to smile. Now it's gone again, Ixird," he whispered to him
self In dull awe, " what's her llfe and what's mine? What
must she think what 'ud any woman think? I'm no good!
I'd die this night If it 'ud pay for all. But who'll tell her
that? Who could?"
Her hand had wavered out again, and almost touched his
own, but only to be drawn back as with dread of the con
tact. "Jim, Jim!" came her sob.
It was quite Involuntary and meaningless. He had
breathed htr name and that happened to be his, that was all.
"Louie, gel! Lou! It's good-by good-by for ever now.
I'm called this tide. I'll have to up anchor and go!"
" No, no!" flashed her quick, fierce breath down in answer.
" You can live, live for her the woman who was better than
me. It's nothing to me at all, I've lie en quite -cjulte happy,
all the world was before me, if I wanted to forget! you're only
ene man.
"O. Jim, Jim!"
Again the sob broke out, In spite of her struggle to keep It
back.
Could he have heard? She held her breath In suspense,
as he became suddenly still. Yes, ho was listening In the
fascination of doubt and rapture as a dying man might llsl?n
to loved voices calling clearer and clearer through the last
great darkness of all. His flnge-r was lifted.
"There, there!" he said. " She's culling to me. Don't
move; you'll hear It. That's her that's my Loul Take-s
moro'n a lifetime to forget that voice! Hark! It'll come
again." .
Never, never! she told herself. Back close to the wall be
hind him she cowered, fighting the fight with her woman
heart. He had won her once to lose her.
"Ah, no!" came his dull whisper at last. "That shows
Lou won't answer she can't, It's too lute. I loved the gel
I know It now as I only thought It then; but she's not to
know that! Almighty knows, though knows the price I've
paid. Wasn't faithful to her, couldn't come back and look
her 'tween the eyes again not Lou's eyesl But I'd wanted
her all along. I knew all afterwurda. You'll tell her that;
you'll say I found out what I'd thrown away. One was love,
and t'other was make be lieve! The dream's gone and tun't
I. called again. Home ono tell he r. O, God, if some ono 'ud
only toll her I know neiw! Little Louie my Lou! That
'good-by' night her warm arms came round my neck ay, Je st
like that! And heT eyes looked past mo Jest like panstus
fadln' In a mist. I'd got tu go for three ye-ars. And she say
to me, as the ship's be ll rang, she says to mo "
Contented, phlegmatic Sister Currlo suddenly sprang to
attontlon; rubbed the treacherous sleep mist frenn her eyes.
"Why, whatever " she began, whispering to hereeit.
" Who's that?"
She thought she had been dreaming. She stared ana
stared, and gradually realized the strangest sight of her pro
fessional or private- experle pce.
Sister Lou, kneeling inotloiiless iig-ilnst tho bed over
there, both arms clasped tightly ubout thee neck of the sle ep,
lug man the man who was to live to let love atono for alt