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Show I SINNERS in HEAVEN I a ' t I CLIVE ARDEN I Copyright by The Sobbs-Mtrrlll Co. PART FOUR Continued. 16 I'.'it fte fl"sr Ini-il otherwise. With llirriMsed Sense of f J-si 1 1 ; r i i ,n und l0Jcl.:1fics-, she f,,res;nw the trilil-t looming In fpjnr of hT -the tiiL-cry sli-1 sli-1 1 1 1 1 I c;iu.se, the link of understanding nhe imi-,t f;ire itlont. Only the desire ro renrh Mrs. I'IpIiI h:ul n-cuncili'd her to thi.s return; now tluit vvus crushed. . . . Ki'wiliiVriMl with coiillirtin emotion, emo-tion, with liiirriln;; tliniat :inl aching heiid, she criiiji-licil, shivering. In a corner cor-ner of the r;irri;ii,'e while Ilimh wrufiped his traveling ru' round her knees. Tin" t r:i In rushed through the wintry dnrUncsH. An flrlorly HerK.viiKin (Io7.mI In one corner of the roinpiirriiicnt ; two HirN rnrri'Ml on a low-voiced roiiverse-Hon, roiiverse-Hon, Interspersed with hursts of liiu'h-tcr. liiu'h-tcr. IIiikIi discoursed upon nil (he little inundiine happenings in Ihirhnry during Iter absence, and she was grateful grate-ful to him. ' 'i'lius, anild prosale surroundintr.s. hidden under unemotional exteriors, life's tragedies and comedies work out tlielr Kcenes. The two girls, ahsorhed now In their magazine stories, were oblivious to the living drama, full of tragedy and hitter Irony, beinj; enacted tint a few feet awny. When ever Barbara Bar-bara looked at Much, the ironic misery of this false si'iiution vvtts Increased. To him, at present, things seemed only vaKliely unsatisfactory. This he had accounted for In the obvious way; therefore, worrying was futile. . . . "I Bnall soon know without being told," Miss Davies had said. And she did. Hy the time she had extricated her niece from the combined watery tendrils of Mrs. Stocklpy and Martha, and kissed her cold faee. she knew! The (,'lrl greeted them all with a oer-1 tain quiet warmth, lacking both effusion effu-sion and emotion, which bore as little resemblance to her old impulsive ways as the forced smile and sunken eyes to a face distinguished by its serenity. Nobody returning to a longed-for home and llanoe would look upon them with those eyes of haunted hopelessness! No illness would leave those rigid lines of pain around a mouth ever easily wreathed In smiles. . . . "Something "Some-thing has happened," the woman of the world said to herself, watching in silence. si-lence. What It might he, she was left to conjecture. Mrs. Stockley, after the poison dropped into her mind the night before, be-fore, regardi'd her daughter's island life as some terrible blot staining the clean pages of her existence, which must not be lightly touched upon. She felt self-conscious upon the subject, shocked and apprehensive over the girl's appearance. As usual, she took refuge in helpless tears. It was Martha, Mar-tha, urged by Hugh, who noticing the chattering teeth and clammy hands, suggested hot soup and bed at once. "With n 'ot bottle," she added. A contraction caught Darbnra's throat, preventing speech. Everything was so familiar, so home-like; and yet so intolerable ! She allowed herself her-self to be led into the well-known dining din-ing room. Somebody removed her coat, and somebody her bat: then Hugh's voice uttered an exclamation. "You've bobbed your hair. Bub! Why?" Kneeling unsteadily before the fire, with hands stretched to the cheerful blaze, she was struck by the strangeness strange-ness of this question coming from him the indirect cause two years before. "It was better short," she replied shakily. "I hope It will soon grow again now," said her mother anxiously. "I dislike the craze for 'bobbed' hair; It's tin-feminine." tin-feminine." The meshes of the net which had loomed near with the advent of the Pe Boroemts. appeared to the girl's distraught dis-traught mind to be closing steadily round her. lake one struggling in vain feet. "Mother lot me go to bed! I feel too ill" It was Hush who caught her. as she stumbled toward the door. With Martha, Mar-tha, be half carried her up the stairs to her old room. . . . And all through 'the night, ns she tossed about, with wide feverish eyes staring at Martha fussing near at hand; where hundreds of years ago. it seemed, she had blown out the candle can-dle upon her old home-life vision after vision rose, full of exquisite torture, to her mtnd. ... A night of delirious deliri-ous terror in a little, vault-like hut. ... A fearful vigil seated upon upturned suit-cases, waiting in the dark for the natives' attack. . . A pair of scissors and a shock of dark hair, from under which dear gray eyes laughed up into her face. ... An early dawn, with a little tin key ring. . Golden hopes of motherhood, dashed almost as soon as awakened. I.Ike a relentless panorama, detail de-tail after detail came vividly to life asrain. with, ever present, the buoyancy of a man's strong personality carrying all before it. . . . She preyed her lips passionately to that little circlet of tin. with a bitterness of grief too deep for the rel'ef of tears. . . . IHwnstalrs. Mrs. Stockley and her Ister sat long into the night, talking, surmising, nriruing. Ever and anon. Uie former damped the atmosphere ber tears "She Is so chang-d so changed!" she repeated at intervals. "If people are already talking, I don't know what they will say when they see her!" "She Is sure to tell you, soon, all that happened." consoled her sister. 'Then we can contradict any wrong suspicions." "I Jim sure she has been Ill-treated," moaned the other; "or why should she look so III and miserable, now she has come home? I don't believe she was even glad to see nie her own mother! It seems so ungrateful. But Bab always al-ways was thoughtless and Inconsiderate Inconsider-ate over my feelings." "Why not ask her for the truth, tomorrow?'.' to-morrow?'.' suggested Miss Davies, her curiosity dillicult to curb. "Or shall I? I am more used to girls in t rouble " "No. Mary!" saiil Mrs. Stockley, with quick anger at any Interference. "I will not have you Insinuate Unit she Is one of of your 'fallen girls,' like tills! If she has suffered anything at that man's hands, she will tell me. herself. I couldn't sponk of it now. Besides. I wouldn't dream of forcing her confidence! confi-dence! After all. It may he only the result of her illness." Miss Davies glanced at her, rather sharply. "What was really the matter at Singapore, do you suppose?" she asked. "Prostration. And shock. Don't you remember? Very natural, I am sure, after such terrible times." Miss Davies drew in her Hps, In her usual way when considering discretion the better part of valor, und made no reply. Ill Mrs. Kochilale gave an annual local dinner party before Christmas every year, over which she presided like a good-natured lien clucking, with her Buff Orpington smile, upon the chick ens pecking at the good things provided pro-vided for them. Everybody who was anybody in the neighborhood received an invitation, so that the parties bore a singular similarity. Fresh interest was aroused this year, owing to the expected presence of Barbara. Bar-bara. So far, she had been seen by few. For a week a severe chill had kept her in bed, invisible to the curious curi-ous eyes of those who buzzed around Lake cottage. The more persevering, after her arrival downstairs, spread interesting in-teresting reports of the extraordinary change wrought in her looks and behavior. be-havior. To The girl, weak In health and tortured tor-tured in mind, everybody and everything every-thing seemed unbearable. Perceiving the suspicious curiosity around her. sihe instinctively cloaked herself witli reserve, throwing no intimate sidelights side-lights upon the vital poi.it causing so much conjecture. News from De lior-eenii lior-eenii was all she craved, and she felt fresh anxiety concerning the lack of It. Had Mrs. Stockley's weak mind not been poisoned, making natural talk upon the island life Impossible to her, things might have been vastly different for all. As it was, the topic became increasingly difficult of approach; until it assumed the character of something some-thing mysteriously tabu. Only the wreck and possible fate of Aunt Dolly were discussed. Croft's name was never even mentioned between them. Urgent business on Mr. Rochdale's Devonshire property summoned Hugli thither before Barbara came downstairs. down-stairs. Still, therefore, the full explanation ex-planation she intended to give him hung heavy on her mind, assuming increasing in-creasing proportions the more she pondered pon-dered over it. His horizon had been so contentedly bounded by conventional, conven-tional, orthodox views, that it might be dillicult to make him understand the true case. She shrink from hurting him. from destroying his faith, as she knew she must do. ,uis. i iciu inici, inn hi uif large-hearted, large-hearted, fan-seeing sympathy so vital a part of her nature, brought a grain of comfort. Full of genuine grief and affection af-fection for her cousin, which she took for granted was shared now by the girl, there was no discreet avoidance of the matter. Being his nearest relative, rela-tive, she was kept informed of all proceedings pro-ceedings concerning the recovery of his body: the lack of information from the De Borceaus. with their possible fate. was. she said, causing renewed anxiety. She urged Barbara to use the "House on the Moor" and its library, whenever she wished, as usual. Mrs. Stockley never encouraged or believed in invalidism other than her own. Once downstairs, her daughter was expected to renew her old household house-hold duties and seek diligently to re-covrr re-covrr parochial ones. That she showed no Inclination for either increased the sense of strain between them. Her shrinking from company would give rise, her mother dreaded, to further "talk." It was. therefore, strongly condemned. con-demned. She found it impossible, as things were, to escape the- ordeal of Mrs. Rochdale's dinner party without hurting the kind old couple by actual rudeness. Having decided that Hugh must be told the truth before anyone else, she was obliged, though shrinking In every fiber of her being, to dress in one of her old evening frocks and be fetched in the Rochdale's big car. . . . This had been one of her frw treats In past years. ... As she I listlessly finished her toilet, the poigr.ant pain of It all struck her afresh. . . . The reflection of shadowy, shad-owy, sunken eyes and aureole of dark hair mocked at her, in the large drawing room mirrors. . . . The unconscious un-conscious irony of the conversation, the kindliness of Hugh's parents and their delight over her. his own affection, affec-tion, were unbearable torture. . . . He had only returned that day, and she spoke to him in desperation, as they went In to dinner together. "Hugh!" she whispered. "1 must see you alone, to tell you " "I know !" he broke in eagerly. "I'm dying to hear everything! It was a beastly nuisance having to go away just then; but it couldn't be bellied. Afraid we shan't get a chance tonight, though." ''Tomorrow, then? Hugh. I must see you alone tomorrow' !" There was a passionate urgency in her voice, a tragic pleading in her eyes both signs which he entirely misunderstood. A Hush overspread his face, and he pressed her bare arm to his side. "Bab, darling!" lie whispered, "don't you think I'm just longing to he alone with you. too? I I counted the hours until I got hack, today!" Barbara sat down at the table, her heart like lead. She felt like a murderer mur-derer who. about to drop poison into the cup of a trusting friend, talks and smiles upon him the while. The vicar's enthusiasm over the missionary mis-sionary results of this providential visit to "children of darkness" (having a double meaning, this phrase was considered con-sidered witty in Darbury), broke loose almost In the same breath wherein he concluded grace. He was not among those whose importunity had been crowned with success where seeing the "Wandering sheep" was concerned. "I am so deeply Interested in your work among the natives." he began, his clear clerical tones arresting every- lilf A Seicre Chill Had Kept Her in Bed. body's attention. "I gathered from the papers that you obtained a wonderful influence over them?" "Weren't they awful creatures?" put in Hugh, with a grimace. "I wonder you weren't scared stiff, Bab!" "I was at first," she owned. "But I grew very fond of them." "Capital !"' beamed the vicar. "Our brothers, in spite of difference in color. Doubtless they responded to your affectionate af-fectionate overtures, poor souls?" A vision of Alan's affectionate overtures over-tures with electrified wire, flashing eyes, and fearful rhetoric, until his brothers became responsive, brought the shadow of a smile into her white face, which old Mr. Rochdale saw and answered. "I imagine Croft got 'em under more hy bullying than affection; didn't he?" he laughed. "That wireless stunt was a brainy notion! I suppose he had to whip up the lazy beggars pretty hard afterward, to make 'em work?" "No," she replied, aware of many eyes upon her face at this open allusion. allu-sion. "They loved him and obeyed him because" her voice faltered "because he had the personality to command obedience. He inspired them to work for their own good. They learned cleanliness: and we taught tliem to talk a little English " "Capital ! capital !" The vicar beamed again at her, through his pince-nez. "How did they receive the Word?" "Wonderfully quickly," she answered, an-swered, misunderstanding. "Some of them could talk quite fluently in a very short time " "But the Word? How did they receive re-ceive the Gospel?" "Oh ! We did not attempt to disturb dis-turb their own religion." The vicar gazed at her, aghast, as did most of those present. "You mean " he began, "you can't mean that yon neglected the first opportunity oppor-tunity of giving them the Truth?" "Yes." she said calmly, "if you look upon It in that light. We thought it unwise, for manv reasons. For one thing, we had to play upon their superstitions super-stitions to insure our own safety and obtain any Influence at all. It needed great wariness." "But surely." he remonstrated pedantically, pe-dantically, "at the risk of one's life one should carry on the Gospel? -Missionaries have to risk " "We were not missionaries!" she reminded him sharply. She looked impatiently im-patiently at bis self-complacent, horrified horri-fied face and short-sighted eyes. "We tried to encourage them in cleanliness, gentleness, and consideration. Isn't that all part of the Gospel's real meaning? mean-ing? To have stuffed entirely new doctrines down their throats would have been ridiculous!" Quick startled glances were directed upon her from all directions; the "Negatives" present flushed uncomfortably; uncom-fortably; Mrs. Stockley tried, ineffectually, ineffec-tually, to lix her with a stony eye. "Apparently your success was nat very great," she observed tartly. Old Mr. Rochdale hastily smoothed over possible trouble by inquiring concerning con-cerning the personal character of the natives. "They are very simple and real." the girl replied warmly. "You find the same fears and jealousies and faults as everywhere else; but they are not hidden by any thin veneer of civilization. civiliza-tion. When they love or hate, they do so openly." "I hope," remarked Miss Davies. not much liking her tone, "you made them wear decent clothing?" "Most of them were naked," said Barbara ; "some wore a little matting." Everybody rather hurriedly went on eating. Hugh hurled himself into the silence, thinking to change the subject. sub-ject. "What did you do about clothes, Bab? Did your own last out?" "Fairly well. I made some breeches, and wore them." The vicar oougneq; Mrs. stockley refused her favorite game In her embarrassment.' em-barrassment.' . . . Mrs. Rochdale remarked tactfully: "Dear, dear! Isn't it all like a novel? If you had been there, Hugh. It would have been really romantic !" " Hugh laughed. "I shouldn't he much good on a desert Island." he observed modestly. "Must have been beastly uncomfortable." "I bet Bab often wished you were there!" smiled old Mr. Rochdale, In his genial way. "Only she won't own It. Now. Hugh, make her confess!" But Hugh's glance had fallen upon the girl's left hand, and he did not reply. Barbara felt like one undergoing slow torture ; her nerves seemed lacerated. lacer-ated. It was the constant repetition of little drops of water which sent the condemned man mad. "Bab," asked Hugh, "whatever are you wearing in the shape of a ring? Where is mine?" Everybody craned forward, and she hastily withdrew her hand. It seemed as if curious hostile eyes were peering at something sacred, the only thing of value to her now in life. "I have lost your ring, Hugh. It was left on the island with everything else." "And you are wearing that instead? I must get another at once. What is it? A key ring?" "Y-yes." "Once." remarked the vicar, rising from his oblivion, "I had the case of a wedding party forgetting the ring; and I married them with a key ring!" "Really !" asked Miss Davies. "I suppose it is quite legal?" "Quite! Provided-, of course, that everything else is in order and a priest performs the ceremony." Barbara's right hand closed convulsively con-vulsively upon her left, under the table. . (TO EE CONTINUED.) |