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Show the island of regeneration by "T!?!t!?ADY (Copyright In Grcnt Britain.) I . CHAPTER XVHX I Divided, l The best thine on earth for a man BJ in the islander's position would hnyo Ha hecn isolation and a chanco to think jfc In oven Tho worst thing on earth for a ffl woman in tho islauder's position was U isolution and a chance tothink it over. jj Jf tho man had been enabled by Jack fU of outside intcrosts to civo free rein II tothis thoughts and let thorn draw him m whither they would, ho inieht have ar- M rived at a different viewpoint, whence H ho could havo on.jdyod u sight of tho M affair in all its bearings and could have adjusted himself to them, but tho op- porlnnitv ho nodded he did not cel. Ho was immediately plunged in an atmos- pherc of such strangeness to. him. liliccl with such compelling necessity for at- tcntion that, although ho loathed The H neccssitv thus imposed upon 'nV. was constrained to tuko part in the lite II that ilowed around him. His instinct i and ho was almost, a woman in his instinctivo capacity was to bo alone. k but it was impossible, and in spite ol I himsolf, what ho saw distracted him. I The pooplo that ho met did more. i Whittaker hustled him below ot i oonrso, as soon as possible and toolc him into his own cabin. Fortunately I hey were men of much the same height and build, although the islander I was the more graceful, symmotric and strong, and he succeeded n poys i him into a civilian suit ot clothing tor ; which he hnd no present use. J here III was both loss and gam in nis n yr Ift anco. There was no gain in tho island- 1 1 er5 feelings, at least, he thought not. It in vjew of tho irksomo restraint oL H i clothing, and yet rhero was a pertain I F satisfaction to his soul in being no . longer singled out from among his fc - I lows by the strangeness 01 his apparel. U As clothes tho garments becamo. him. it and it all depended upon your point ot ? view as to whether you preferred the S handsome bnrbarian with a hint ot . civilization in his enrnage. or the c;- ilizcrl gentleman with a. suKcesUon f & tho barbaric in his bearing. Whittaker reasoned rightly that the sooner ho became accustomed to. theso-tlungs the J better, and that the time to begin v,as immediately. ... lie had had a hasty word or two with I ' the captain before he took htm below, 1 and when he was dressed and it re- j (mired assistance from the houtenant- l commander ere the unfami har hab h- mcnis wore properly adjusted the two passed from the ward room to the cabin of, the captain in the after part of .he ' 5liii. . . 1 Tho few sentences in v.- f ker hnd made his first brsf ' I his superior had in a "loas"' . the captain for the more lcnclh V course that followed, and,, feeling that the situation was one which require more than the simp Ci autho ty of tl e I master ol a suit., nw "ul'V' ' ' i- conference the surgeon and tho chap lain It was to these three men. thcre-3 thcre-3 for", thai Whittaker and tho islander ' ureecniod themselves. ' The chaplain, like Whittaker, was a i Virginian. He had not noted the islander's face when he came aboard in his semi-savage garb, but as his eye dwelt upon him standing clothed and in his right, mind before him ho gave a start of surprise, and so soon as tho formal salutations had boon exchanged, ex-changed, with a word to the captain I for permission, he asked Whittaker a ''"I'bcg vour pardon, Mr. Whittaker, I but what is the gentlomnn's name!' R ti.. t lnmii n vns used natur-i I allv and unconsciously, with an ao- I solute sense of its fitness, as everyone 1 in the cabin could perceive. C "Tt is not rightly known.." said I Whittaker, "but he. is bclicvod to be I a Virginian ot the " . I "T knew it," said the chaplain, lin- I pnlsively; "he is one of the Charnocks of Nnnsemond county." I "Your recognition, chaplain," said I the licutenaut-commander, eagerly, I "will be of great value in determining this stranger's name aifd station. The evidence of it is circumstantial. T do not know how it will be regarded in a court of law." "1 have always understood that the riiurr.ock estato'wns a vast one." said (.'apt. Ash by, "'and since coa.1. has been niinrd on the Virginia lands it has become be-come very valuable." "It is true," answered the chaplain. ''Who holds it now?" asked the surgeon. sur-geon. "It Is held by an old man, my friend of many years standing, the brother of lolin lie veil Charnock." j Dcuevo una to De my name," said the islander. f "J have little douht of it." replied the chaplain, continuing: "The first John Ttcvcll Charnock was lost at sea. Hj lie and his wife and young child some thirty yenrs ago set forth on a voyage around the world for hor health. Tho ship, in which I believe ho had some ownership. wa, called the Nnnsc-mond. Nnnsc-mond. Its. course was traced as far as Valparaiso, thence it sailed for the Philippines and was never heard of again. T know tho story," said the chaplain, turning toward the captain, "because John Revel! Charnock wan one of my best friends, as his brother, Philip Norton Charnock, who now holds the estate." "Is the present Charnock married?" "No." returned the chaplain, "he is an old bachelor." "That will make it. easier for our j friend here." said Mr. Whittaker, "provided the evidence is thought con-vincing. con-vincing. " "The best evidence that ho could present." returneil the chaplain, "is in his face. Ho is the living image oT his father as I knew him, ami he han j family characteristics which T think i would enable almost anyone to identify him without question." "Sir." snid the islander, addressing the chaplain, "did vou know mv mother 7" HI "That r did," returned the old man. H "llcr name was Mary pajre Thornton, and she was one of the sweetest girla in irginia. " ''An(l viI! vou tcI1 o about her. and j about my father and my people?" HI ,"With the greatest pleasure," said H the chaolain, kindly. "Meanwhile l apt. Asliy and those gentlemen will wish to hoar your story. " "Take him to your cabjin." said the H captnin promptlv, "and tell him tho things he wants to know. AVe can wait," "No." returned the islander; "I nn wait. I have wailed nil these years-and 1 ?, foT.iiours n,orc or ,oss vill'malcc Iit- tlo difference. You have a right to know my story, and here it is." Iiapidly, concipely. with a fine dra-H dra-H matic touch, he told tho story a3 he H knew it of his lifo on the island. Ho mM wns so entirely unconventional that ho interwove the bare details of the strnngo HV relation winch he gave them with per- mm sonal touches. Ho made no socret of B his love and worship" for the girl of fl tho belief in her which he had cherished of tho reverence in which ho had held her. Ho exhibited that strange com-mixture com-mixture of feeling with which he re-frarded. re-frarded. her as a human woman and as dcmi-goddcES. He showed that he was I at onco her master and her creature, yet through it all thore ran such a thread of bitterness, of grief, of resent-I resent-I mont, of shamn, that his auditors, at first unpossessed of the key to his feelings, feel-ings, listened to him with amazement and could scnrcely rcalizo or comprehend. compre-hend. Ho told the story of tho two lives up to the sighting o'f tho ship upon up-on tho island, and then, his. heart failing fail-ing him, he turned to Whittaker and bade him take up tho relation. It was a dolicatn matter of which to speak, but the simplicity with which the first part of tho talc had been presented pre-sented gavo tho officer his clow. Ho was a man of retentive memory, of quick apprehensive power, and with a nice fienso of discrimination, a rare man, indeed. And he told tho rost of tho tnlo with a subtle sympathy for the situation and the actors that enabled en-abled him so to present it to the interested inter-ested little group of officers that hp almost al-most made them sec it as it transpired. "And what," asked the captain, when tho final word had been said, "do yon propoBC to do now, Mr. Charnock?" It wno tho first, time that lie had been addressed and the. man started. Ho had heard Mr. Whittakcr's words as ono in a dream. He had been going over that drendful scene on tho sands. His heart.' was lacerated and torn again. Ho was blind to everything but the past. He saw her face dimly in the present. Ho could see nothing of happiness hap-piness in the future. "I don't know." he answered. "But surelv this has not made any differenco in your foelings7" "I can't tell. The differenco is in hor. not in me." "She made a frightful mistake,' said the captain, impressively, "but she has nobly atoned, and " "She's not what I thought she was," said the man, "and I love her, I love her now not because, but in spite of what she is. and thoro is a difference." "Miss Brcnton," interposed Whittaker Whit-taker at this n'micture, "has settled the matter herself. Sho says that she will have no man's pity, no man's contempt, that no man shall marry her on sufferance, suf-ferance, and that " "flight," said tho surgeon, who was a man of very few words and general' good ones. "My young friend," broke in tho chaplain,' " it I might advise " "But this," returned tho islander, with fierceness, "is not a matter for advice. J don't know tho world or its customs. But T take it that a man's choice of a wife, a man's settlement of Imk future is not" a thing that, he brooks MM'nol over. At any rate, I want none U.'' Come with me," said the chaplain; we will talk it over. I have lived in the .world," he went on, gently. "Perhaps "Per-haps J can help vou. .Havo wo your permission to withdraw, Captain Ash-bv?" "Certainly," said the captnin. "Pardon me a moment, chaplain," interposed in-terposed Whittaker; "but the young lady has asked that some of us go ashore to rake her deposition as to tho matters that havo been alleged concerning con-cerning our friend here. Captain Ashby, will you?" "Certainly, Mr. Whittaker, T will go. And if you will accompany me, doctor, and you, chaplain, I shall be glad. Mr. Whittaker. you aro a notary public and can administer the necessary oaths." "Vcr.v good, sir," returned Mr. Whittaker. Whit-taker. The other gentlemen bowed their acquiescence. "The lady said she would like to be undisturbed until evening."' "At two bells in the second doc watch then ha.vc the cutter called away," returned tho captain. "Bee pardon, captain," said the surgeon, sur-geon, "but do you or anv of vou know this lady to bo Miss Brontou?"" "No," said the captain, "I don't know her. Do you, Mr. Whittaker, or you, chaplain?" "Well, then," said the surgeon, aa both the officers shook their heals, "it will be necossar3' to havo some one ashore who does know her in order to swear to her identitv to make her deposition de-position worth anything. " "There is Langford," said Whittaker.- "ho knows her." "Very good," said tho captain; "send a boat over to the yacht aud pre-sent pre-sent my compliments to Mr. Langford. Ask him if he will meet us ashore at y:l.j p clock. Say to him also that I should be glad to have him dine with mc tonight at 7. Chaplain, will you and Mr. Charnock take luncheon with mc later?" I Now, to go back to the island. Tho woman stood on tho strand proudly, .wuimuy, sicrmy erect, without a sign or. unbending until the boats reached the sides of the two ships. Lven then she kept herself in the bonds of a control of steel. Sho turnod Rlowly, walked up tho beach, entered the grove of palms, mechanically found the path and plodded nlong it, still erect and unbending, until tho windings wind-ings of the trail and tho thickening of the grovo hid her from any chance watchers on tho ship. Then came tho moment of yielding. As if the tension had boon suddenly released, she reeled, staggered; her heart almost stopped. Her instinct was to throw herself prono upon the grass, but she recovered herself in tune and, with the natural inclination of tho troubled toward tho placo, however how-ever rude and humble it mav be, that is culled home, she summoned hor strength nnd dragged herself on through tho trees over the hill whence a backward glance would havo given her a sight of the ships, but. she never took it down the other slope across the beach and to tho cavo which had been her haven for these three years. Then and not until thon did she givo way completely. Sho throw herself down upon the sand in tho cool shadow ot the great, rocks in what to her had suddenly becomo a weary land, and outstretched hor arms as if to clasp the earth to her breast in default of tho man she had dreamed of nnd trusted, she had lovod and lived for, an,l Ay there a silent, shuddering, wretched figure. Shn wns conscious, never more so, of her own entire innocence, o her own purity of soul. Into hor heart had entered nothing that had defiled her, and out of it nothing of that ilk had come. And. yet there was a soiling bodily consciousness in her mind. Tho terrible interviews of tho morning had bronchi it all back. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. Langford had craved on"ortunily for expiation. Ho had offered iimcnds. Sho could, not but bolievo thnt his heart was in his words. But what amends could there be? What expiation could ho offer? Npt nil the waters of the blue Pacific could wash out the damneJ snot 8 that loomod bo black nnd so huco before tho oyos of tho ono man in whoso vision sho -would fain be sweet and pure and innocent. Sho had thought bitterly in timet gone past, when alio, had realized her s.tua ion,.of.the voice of the world. She had insiHted that ho .should not think of nnv future relationship to her until ho hnd heard tho voice of tho wor d She had believed that tho world . 's voice would condemn her; that tho world would disbelieve her; thut the world would see no possibility of .sweotness and light in her; thnt its mockery nnd scorn would bo hurled upon her: thnt its cry would bo "Away Avith her!" lint she had believed that he would bo difforcnt; that he would see that Hhc had boon sinned against rather than sinning; (hat she had been led astray by a false philosophy for which in largo measure her training and heredity had been responsible; that tho stop she had taken involved no moral turpitudo and carried no evil consequences. Sho had made him, sho and God together. Jn him sho bolicvcd. Sho had spoken of a test, but in a last analysis sho would havo taken him without the test, confident con-fident in his love and in his acquittal of her if her cause should ever bo plead before the bar of his .-judgment. Ho and the world, tho one to sustain, sus-tain, the other to despise; this she had believed, and in both instances she had been gricvouslj- mistaken. If Whittaker Whit-taker and his men represented the voice of the world and there wns no reason why she should believe that they did not the world would withhold denunciation; denun-ciation; it would extend pity. Pit' was not particularly ngroeablo to a proud woman such as she was, but at least it was not bitter censure and scorn, which was. after all. what she hnd received re-ceived from the man in whom sho trusted. She did not mako any allowance for the man at. that moment! It might havo been thought strauge that she had developed de-veloped such a deep, pervading passion for him. She had loved not merely his actualities, but his potentialities, which, with prescient eye, she had divined. Sho knew, or thought she knew, of what, this man was capable.. And now, in tho first moment of trinl, he had shown himself unworthy. It is true he still wanted to marry her; he was still willing to do so. But as she had refused re-fused Langford ;8 offer, which ninety-nino ninety-nino women in a hundred in her position would have jumped at, because she would not. givo a man her hand where her heart, did not go; she could not, ns sho said, see that that which she would regard as crime could make anything any-thing else that had transpired right. Neither would she accept anything from her island companion which did not carry his whole heart. She would be nothing to the one man unless she loved him, and the other man should be noth ing to her unless she seemed to him the supromcst thing in this world. She had had many hours to herself in that long island sojourn, and tho sweetest thought that had como to her had been the relationship in which she stood to. this man. Sho had gloried in the position in which he hnd placed her. She hnd stood at ease and happy on the pedestal upon which ho had cii- j throned her. And now to bo toppled j to receive the charitj' of his consideration considera-tion rather than tho uprush of his adoration adora-tion she could not stand it. Her crushing disappointment at his failure to rise to the measure of her ideal of him, the total end of her dream of happiness, tho breaking of all her hopes, the closing of all her ambitions, the tearing asunder of her heartstrings heart-strings whelmed her in agony. Sho had thought that never could humanity humani-ty experience more than the pain superinduced su-perinduced by the horror of hor position posi-tion upon tho ship, but that pain to the present was like a caress. For to all that old horror was added a new sense of loss, of disappointment aud despair. She had not loved before; now film did. and ihn nrrnw nnd ov.- guish were measured by the depth and power of hor passion. The period on tho yacht had boon an episode. This was life, eternal life or death, she thought. And it shows the power of the opisodc that it had colored and would color was it darkly? all the future. That Christian philosophy which sho had fondly believed sho had acquired, and in which 0 fatal error! she had somehow taken pride, fell from het like every other quality, good or bad, that is developed alone. It had lacked-exercise. lacked-exercise. She. too. hnd submitted to no tests since sho had como to the island. She had surmounted no temptations. temp-tations. She had fought no battles. She hud not become a voteran by con-quest. con-quest. She had not perfected her offensive of-fensive and defensive weapons by a series of smaller conflicts which would givo her confidence and courage to ' fight the groat and final battle. Like Elijah of old, dismaved, disheartened broken, sho prayod that she might die. there on the sands. CHAPTER XIX. , The Man's Failure. At Jj o'clock a boat put off from the big white cruiser, conveying the islander, the captain, the other nflieei'6 and Langford to the shore. The woman met them on the sand. She had discarded dis-carded her woven tunic and was dressed in the faded blue blouso and skirt which she had worn when sho had left tho yacht and which she had ever since preserved with such scrupulous scru-pulous care for an omerL'cncv like Hii Well- was it for her that her garments were loose and eas3'-fitting, else sho could not have put them on, so splendidly splen-didly had she developed in waist and chest and limb. She wore stockings and shoes, and, save for a certain natural nat-ural elegance and frocdom in her bearing, she looked much as any other woman, except that few women wcro as beautiful as she. Tho man was greatly surprised. He had never seen her in this dress with any conscious recollection of the fact. Sho had had wit enough to perceive that, having choson a costume, sho must stick to it, and she had never after worn her civilized clothps, never ovon alluded to them, and as ho had never entered her cave after ho had begun to understand and notice things, ho had not ovon suspected her of the possession of them. ' It seemed a difforcnt dif-forcnt woman, therefore, who met him on the strand, one that he did not know, that he did not understand. Sonio of . tho ways of social lifo which had been discarded had como back to her with her dress. On hor part sho was scarcely less surprised than ho. She had often imagined imag-ined what ho might look like in garments gar-ments common to his sex aud period, but hor imaginings had not. prepared her for what she saw- Convention did not ill become him. If sho had loved him in tho wild and savago dress they had been compelled to assume, she did not lovo him less when sho saw him measured by his follows in the garments gar-ments natural and pcculinr to them. He towered abovo all the pnrtv, except Whittaker, and even tha. lioutouaut commander was not the man that her lover was, she thought. Her lover! sho wondered. Her face, always colorless, was paler than ever. Something of tlio anguish thnt sho had gone through was seen thoro by tho keen eyes of Whittaker, at least, and even the others could notice no-tice the strong constraint she put upon herself and the evidonces of sclf-rostraint sclf-rostraint worn pninfully apparent. After a momontnrv hesitation and a glance at tho islander, who, after his i first swift, comprehending survey of tho woman, stood with averted hc'nd sho conncious painfully of his every gosturo nnd movement tho lieutenant commander performed the necessary introductions. This ceremony over, ft was tho wonmn who spoke. I sent for you, gent.lomon." she began, be-gan, in order that a necessnrv deposition deposi-tion might bo made to enable," if possible, possi-ble, my" she paused and bownd formally for-mally toward the islander " this gen-tlpmnn, gen-tlpmnn, to establish his identity, upon which, as .1 learn from Mr. Whittaker, mV?n 8,cc,ns1t1 dopend 1 havo here" Hut could you not do this more con-ycnicnt.Jy con-ycnicnt.Jy later on the ship. Miss Brcnton? Brcn-ton? ' intorposod tho captain. He had boon told that sho intended to stay on the i. island, but lie could not believe it. We Hhall be very glad indood to offer .you passage home. The ship is fitted ior a flag and tho admiral's quarters aro yours to commnnd. Wo are sailing direct to the United States, with a stop at Honolulu, and will be glad to re-sto-ytV! to..yr friends." , . SJV said the womnu, "I have no inpndsCwho care en0iu,h nbout mo to welcome mo or whom I care enough about to wish to see. My mind is made up. J nhall stay on the' island, at least for tho present.1' 'n,y dear young ladv," began the otticer. "Captain Ashby," said tho woman, you are tho commander of that ship?" "I am." 1 'To .Vou is committed the ordering of her course?" iX ne lonc Mias Brcnton." ... decide all questions connected wit. i Her on your own responsibility?" I do, certainly; but" bir, this is my ship, this island. If I choose to stay here, I cannot think you will endeavor to lake me hence by torec. " 'By no means." '.Nor have I any more fondness for having my decisions discussed than you would have for hearing your ordors argued or questioned." It is my island," cried tho man r0VF-,J,v' nml 5f J0" stav 1 stay." 'Wo lose time," said tho woman shortly. "T am here 1o givo my testimony; testi-mony; aro you prepared to take'it?" I am' said tho lioutcnant-com-mander, stepping forward, notebook in hand. "Captain, will you conduct the necessary inquiry?" "Certainly," said the captain. "Mr. Langford, do you identify this lady?" we, do ir'" answered Langford. Sho is Miss Katherine Brontou of San Francisco." 1 on. say this of your own personal knowledge?" "Yes, sir." r '!y.,u win mako affidavit to that fact?" "With pleasure." . V1 '01dcrcd," said the woman bit-t.erlv. bit-t.erlv. "why you camo back." It was at my wish, madam," returned re-turned Capt. Ashbv, formally. He was not greatly prepossessed with the imperative manner and demeanor de-meanor of this young woman, but he did not see exactly how he could re- ;S Jt-?,1" forlc "" improvement in it. Will you proceed now with your story," he continued. "Will vou speak slowly so that Mr. Whitta'kor, who docs not write shorthand, can take it down?" Thereupon the woman told that portion por-tion of her tale which related to tho evidence which she exhibited, tho piece of the boat, with Mm ship upon it. the dog collar, the silver box. the Bible, the two rings. Thee were marked, sot down and sworn to. I he affidavit to which she subscribed her name, and to which sho took oath on the vory Bible of the island, was brief, though comprehensive, and the little ceremony was soon over. Mr. Whittaker assumed charge of all (he exhibits. The tale having been completed com-pleted and all the little formalities not through with, the little party stood around in awkward silence, wondenn what was next to be done ' Miss Brcnton," said the captain at last, breaking tho pauso. "if. seems a shame. .For God's sake, reconsider ship!'' ! 1310,1 and Con, off l the ''"returned the woman quictlv, "my mind is made up." "Katherine!" exclaimed Langford, extending his hand in ono final an! peak ' "Not with you, cither," said the woman. ,rry ,19ar ,.Y0"P lady,", began the old chaplain, ''li nk wi.if u Has any human being with such powers as you possess a. right, to bun- herself cnUn l0UCly ,B,and? Is t:i,oro no i"Sir!'! xthc womfln interposed, "your plea might move mo if anything could, but indocd ftis as useless as the rest, " Hoar mine, then." said tho man abruptly, oven harshly. The woman turnod and faced him LXnr?ernUvF .?na as determined as she had faced the others. What could I ho say? There was but ono plea that cou d m0ve her. Was he about to make' Ae have loved each other," he went on brokenly, "ft was mv dearest dear-est wish, my most settled determination, determina-tion, to make. you my wife. That wish i. still entertain, that determination has not departed from mc. You have' refused re-fused to marry that man" And would you have mc do so?" asked tho woman. "No, a thousand times, no. I am sorrier every moment that I look at him that I did not; kill him. But having refused re-fused him, thoro is nothing now that vou can do but, marry me. And as you have retused him. it makes if. tho more incumbent upon mo to marry you and takp 3'ou away. Your honor demands . "My honor!" flamed out the woman, indignantly. "J. have said it," returned the man, doggedly. Gentlemen, you will forgive our fraukness," said the woman, turning to the little group who waited, nil except Langford, who had walked away out of earshot and who resolutelv kept his back toward the partv, "but this thing has to bo sott.lod. Now," said tho woman, wo-man, "there is no question of honor, but ot love. I ask vouj Man, do you lovo me as you did 'last night?" "L " he began, falteringly. You. havo never told mo a lie," she continued. "You havo never known aiivthing but the truth." 'Until T learned from you." cried the man, "from what you had concealed." con-cealed." The woman smiled bitterlv, waving aside this cruel stab. "Tell mc tho truth. Do you love mc as you did last night?" "If you will have it, no," said the man, rushing to his doom. Men havo taken a bullet in the breast, a shot in the heart, nnd for a moment have maintained their erect position, "ho woman knew in that moment, how such things could be. And I still want you for my wife." 'Last night," went on the woman, as if in a dream, "1 seemed to you tho euibouimon of every excellence that humanity can possess short of the divine." di-vine." "Yes," said the man, ".I lovod you as " "Do I still possess those qualities in your eyes?" Ho hesitated. Ho strove to speak. "Tho truth! The truth!" whispered the woman. "Nothing else, so help you God! " "No," said the man, "but L love you still, and 3-011 ought to marry me, you must. Can't .you understand?" "Listen." said tho woman, ficrcclv. "I did not go to that man yonder, although al-though ho offered 1110 ovorvthing that honor could dictate and tliat true affection af-fection could suggest, I do bolievo, because be-cause I did not love him, although I havo sinco come to respect him. after I. have f-hought it over. It is not duty, but Jove, which is the compelling motive mo-tive in this matter. And I won't take you; r. would not lake, an angel from heaven unless he thought me in every particular all that 11 woman should be to a man, unless he loved me with Ins whplo heart, and soul absolutely, ab-solutely, nnfeigucdly, completely You don't. I don't even think that I love you now. "Vou have been tried and tested, and .you havo failed. Gentlemen, Gentle-men, will you tako him awav?" I stay here." said the man bluntlv. drawing apart from the others, "and I will lull with my own hands the man who lays finger upon me." "Sir," said the captain, "this land. T take it. is the United States. As the ranking officer present, 1 represent its law. H is under my rule. As to your choice, I have nothing to sav, but as far as regards other things, yo'u will have to obey mc here as any other citizen citi-zen oi our country." "And 1 know nothing of the United Slates or its laws,' answered the man, pr?lm J 1 am a nv? "to myself." "llic first lesson thnt tlio world will tench you, sir," returned tho captain, cap-tain, pointedly, "ia that that position cannot be .maintained; that the whole labric of civilization depends upon concessions con-cessions by individuals of natural rights and upon the enforcement of these concessions con-cessions by other individuals to whom has been delegated that power." 1 t on.t w,sll fc0 learn ll. and that is why 1 will not leave this island," persisted per-sisted the man. It was the woman who intervened. She steppod close to tho man and laid tier hand upon his arm. "You said that in some fashion vou loved me," she urged. "Tn some fashion I do," he replied, it grows late.. Captain, can your ship lie by the -island until morning?" morn-ing?" "Jf you wish, certainly," returned the captain. "Very well.. Man. will you thon go aboard tho ship with these gentlemen night?" 1,10 aln0 llC1'C for thc tninA1"C' "d""11" exclaimed thc cap- C;rJ,aml-v'.p,r' returned thc woman. wom-an. 'There is not a harmful thing upon tho island. You can come back in the morning and we will discuss Mien; what is best to be dono. Pcally gentlemen." she went on, with a piteous pite-ous tremble of her lip, for ono moment osing her control, "I have .been tried beyond the strength of woman today, ii I .can have a quiet rest, if in thc morning " "That is reasonable," said the surgeon. sur-geon. "The lady is in no state for his discussion, nor. Indeed, you. sir " he continued, looking hard at tho man: .AVoryrWCJ,V' sa,id ,'he captain. Lome, Mr. Charnock, vou cannot refuse re-fuse that request; gentlemen. Madam, good night. " Ho turned away, followed by the others. Charnock for tho moment hesitated. hes-itated. n "I give you one more chance." wispered the woman in his onr. "1 think myself fit for tho wife of my man, do 3-011 think so? Do you love me? Do "you care for me as you did last night?- Can vou think ot mo n all that is sweet and lovely and noble ami pure, and worthy of an- man's infection in-fection .'" She bent closer toward him in tho intensity of her footings. The words rushed 'from her. Tho mau passed his hand over his forehead. " I can 011I3- sav what f said before, that I love, .you still, that I, will marry 3'ou, aud that you ought to be " "That is enough, " interrupted the woman. "Good bve. " Sho drew instant I v apart from him. 'Mr. Charnoek." rang the captain's voice, imperatively. Slowly the islander turned and made his wa3: to the sen after tho others. Thc woman, thus left alom upon the island, was face to face with a crisis which could only be met in two w;i3'5. Hither she mu'sl go away. with the uinn, or they must both remain on the island. It was possible that the captain might be induced to use force I to take the man away, but that was not likely, and if it were attempted, she believed, with much foundation for her belief, that thc man who had never been coerced by u human being oxcept her would fight until he died She could not go away with him: sho could not live with him 011 tho island. A future opened before him. She had learned that afternoon on the sand that if his identity could bo established estab-lished he would be a man of groat wealth, a power, a factor in the world's affairs. She had had her experience ex-perience in life, her tnsle of power. It did not matter about her. It mattered great ly about him. She hnd given him a final chance. He did not love her as she would bo loved. He could not love her. Tt was evident to her that he never would. She had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, nothing to dream about. There was one way of cutting the Gor-dian Gor-dian knot; she could die. And yet, somehow, the instinct of life was strong in her heart. Sho crossed thc island to her side where she was hidden from thc ship, and went down to the edge of the water. wa-ter. She even slipped off tho garments of civilization and stood forth a primitive primi-tive Eve and waded out :i little way into thc lagoon. Thc night had fallen and she wns calm in the screen of the darkness. She could oasih-'swim out to the barrier reef, clamber upon it. and then plunge into the blue Pacific and .swim on and on and fight and fight until thc last vestige of her strength was gone, and then sink down, leaving him free and settling the question. And .vet the waters lapping lap-ping about her feet held her back, drove her back, retarded her in her advance. Could she do it? Should she do it 7 At least sho would not give 'up tho I idea for want, of tn-ing. She resolute- 1 lv set herself to wade into the deeper I sea. That she. waded was evidence 1 of her indecision. Under other circumstances, cir-cumstances, or had she been clear in her mind as to her course, a quick run. a spring, a splash, and she would have 1 been in the midst of the lagoon. She went slowhv and as the water J grew deeper, she went more slowl-. Tt was warm and pleasant, in the lagoon. ) The slight, difference of temperature between the water and the air ordinarily ordinar-ily was only stimulating. And .vet the sea had never seemed so cold to Iter as it was in that hour. She was young, strong, splendidly ' dowered with health and bodily vigor. The mere animal clinging to life was . intense 111 her. It docs hot minimize , her lionrthronk or lior ronlii;r, 4 settle the question that she found it hard to go on. Hy and by she stopped, J S the waters now up to her breast. The J wind blew gently toward the laud, and ,j ft the waves struck her softly and beat her back. Sho stopped dead still and Z thought and thought, wrestling with- 7 her; problem, full of passionate disap. t point incut, vain regret, despair, con- M Jfi scions that life held nothing for her Si i and vet clinging to it, unknowing what w would be the outcomo of the Titanic struggle raging in her breast between f! id primal passions, love of life and love M of man! jjg: (Continued next Sunday.) , 1 JjJ |
