SYNOPSIS. ,
. 10 "
Adele la Chesnayne, a belle of New
Prance, Is forced Jnto marriage with
Commlssalre Casslon, henchman of
Governor La Barre, who la plotting to
oust La Salle and his garrison from the
frontier Fort St. Louis, on the Illinois
river. Adele had overheard the plotters
say she had Inherited a great fortune
from her father and they had kept It
from her. La Barre and Cassion learned
of the pirl's knowledge thus the mar
riage and the hurried departure of Cas
elon and a company for Fort St. Louis.
The bride refuses to share sleeping
quarters with her husband. She has
but one friend, young Rene D'Artigny,
b, guide. He is chary of helping her.
Chevet, the girl's uncle, one of the par
ty, is found murdered. A fierce storm
scatters and wrecks the boats. Adele is
rescued.
There comes to Adele an op-
portunity to escape a long life
worse to her than the death
which she has just escaped. Yet
the spell of her marriage vow
forced though it was has a
' strong Influence. The pendulum
of misfortune has reached the
end of its swing and seems to be
returning to center. You wtfl
find much of interest and the
unfolding of a new mystery in
this installment.
CHAPTER XIII Continued.
"Lie still a moment," said a voice
gently. "You will breathe easier short
ly and regain strength."
I knew my fingers closed on the
man's hand convulsively, but the wa
ter yet blinded my eyes. lie must
have perceived this for he wiped my
face with a cloth, and It was then I
perceived his face clearly, and remem
bered. "The Sieur d'Artlgny!" I exclaimed.
"Of course," he answered. "Who
else should it be, madame? Please do
not regret my privilege."
"Your privilege; 'tis a strange word
you choose, monsieur," I faltered, not
yet having control of myself. "Surely
I have granted none."
"Perchance not, as there was small
chance," he Answered, evidently at
tempting to speak lightly. "Nor could
I wait to ask your leave; yet surely
I may esteem it a privilege to bring
you ashore alive."
"It was you then who saved me? I
scarcely understood, monsieur; I lost
consciousness, and am dazed in mind.
You leaped into the water from the
canoe?"
"Yes; there was no other course left
me. My boat was beyond yours, a
few yards farther out In the lake,
when the storm struck. We were par
tially prepared, for I felt assured there
would be trouble. Never did I feel
more deadly blast; no craft such as
ours could face it. We were to your
left and rear when your canoe cap
sized, and I bore down toward where
you struggled in the water. An 1
diari got grip upon you as we 8Wft
by, but the craft dipped so that he let
go, and then I Jumped, for we could
never come back, and that was the
only chance. This is the whole story,
madame, except that by God's help, I
got you ashore."
I looked into his face, Impressed by
the seriousness with which he spoke.
"I I thank you, monsieur," I said,
and held out my hand. "It was most
gallant. Are we alone here? Where
are the others?"
"I do not know, madame," he an
swered, his tone now that of formal
courtesy. " 'Tis but a short time
since we reached this spot, and the
storm yet rages. May I help you to
stand, so you may perceive better our
situation."
He lifted me to my feet, and I
stood erect, my clothes dripping wet,
and my limbs trembling so that I
grasped his arm for support, and
glanced anxiously about. We were
on a narrow sand beach, at the edge
of a small cove, so protected the wa
ters were comparatively calm, al
though the trees above bowed to the
blast, and out beyond the headland I
could see huge waves, whitened with
foam, and perceive the clouds of spray
flung up by the rocks. It was a wild
scene, the roar of the breakers loud
and continuous, and the black clouds
flying above with dizzy rapidity. All
the horror which I had just passed
through seemed typified in the scene,
and I covered my face with my hands.
"You you think thr- they are all
gone?" I asked, forcing the words
from me.
"Oh, no," he answered eagerly, and
his hand touched me. "Do not give
way to that thought. I doubt If any
In your canoe made shore, but the
others need not be in great danger.
They could run before the storm until
they found some opening in the coast
line to yield protection. The sergeant
was no voyageur, and when one of
the paddles broke he steered wrong.
With an Indian there you would have
floated."
-"Then what can we do?"
' "There Is naught that I gee, but
valt Monsieur Casslon will be blown
eouth, but will return when the storm
subsides to seek you. No doubt he
will think you dead, yet will scarcely
leave without search. See, the Bky
grows lighter already, and the wind
Is less fierce. It would be my thought
to attain the woods yonder, and build
A fire to dry our clothes; the air chills."
' I kicked wfcre he pointed, up a nar
the
By RANDALL PARRISH
row rift In the rocks, yet scarcely felt
strength or courage to attempt the
ascent. lie must have read this in
my face, and seen my form shiver as
the wind struck my wet garments, for
he made instant decision.
"Ah, I have a better thought than
that, for you are too weak to attempt
the climb. Ilere, He down, madame,
and I will cover you with the sand.
It is warm and dry. Then I will
clamber up yonder and fling wood
down; 'twill be but a short time until
we have a cheerful blaze here."
From where I lay my head on a
hummock of sand, my body com
pletely buried, I could watch him scale
the rocks, making use of the rift in
the face of the cliff, and finding no
great difficulty. At the top he looked
back, waved his hand, and then dis
appeared among the trees. All was
silent about me, except for the dash
of distant waves, and the rustle of
branches far overhead. I gazed up
at the sky, where the clouds were
thinning, giving glimpses of faintest
blue, and began to collect my own
thoughts, and realize my situation.
D'Artigny appeared at the edge of
the cliff, and called to reassure me of
his presence. He had his arms filled
with broken bits of wood which were
tossed to the sand, and a moment
later he descended the rift in the wall
and paused beside me.
"No sign of anyone up there," he
said, and, I felt, not regretfully. "The
canoes must have been blown some
distance down the coast."
"Were you able to see far."
"Ay, several leagues, for we are
upon a headland, and there Is a wide
sweep of bay below. The shore line
He Lifted Me to My Feet.
is abrupt and the waves still high.
Indeed I saw no spot in all that dis
tance where a boat might make safe
landing. Are you becoming dry?"
"I am at least warm, and already
feel much stronger. Would it not be
best, monsieur, for us to scale the cliff
and wait our rescuers there, where we
can keep lookout?"
"If you feel able to climb the rocks,
although the passage is not difficult
A boat might pass us by here and
never be seen or know of our pres
ence, unless we keep up a fire."
I held out my hand to him and he
helped me to my feet. The warmth
of the sand while it had not entirely
dried my clothing had given me fresh
vigor, and I stood erect, requiring no
assistance. With this knowledge a
new assurance seemed to take posses
sion of me, and I looked about and
smiled.
"I am glad to know you can laugh,"
he said eagerly. "I have felt that our
being thus shipwrecked together was
not altogether to your liking."
"And why?" I asked, pretending
surprise. "Being shipwrecked, of
course, could scarcely appeal to me,
but I am surely not ungrateful to
you for saving my life."
"As to that, I did no more than any
man might be expected to do," be pro
tested. "But you have avoided me
for weeks past, and it can scarcely
be pleasant now to be alone with me
here."
"Avoided you! Rather should I af
firm it was your own choice, monsieur.
If I recall aright I gave you my con
fidence once, long ago on the Ottawa,
and you refused my request of assist
ance. Smee then you have scarcely
been of our party."
"Ah," he burst forth, " I have been
oftentimes nearer you than you
thought. I could not forget what you
said to me at that last meeting, or the
appeal you made for my assistance. I
realize the position you are . In,
madame, married by force to a man
you despise, a wife only in name, and
endeavoring to protect yourself by
wit alone. I could not forget all this,
nor be indifferent. I have been in
your camp at night ay, more than
once dreaming I might be of some
aid to you, and to assure myself of
your safety."
"You have guarded me?"
Irron
"As best I could, without arousing
the wrath of Monsieur Casslon. You
are not angry? It was but the duty
of a friend."
"No, I am not angry, monsieur, yet
It was not needed. I do not fear
Casslon, so long as I can protect my
self, for if he attempts evil it will
find some form of treachery. But,
monsieur, later I gave him the pledge
he asked."
"The pledge! What pledge?"
"That I would neither meet, nor
communicate with you until our ar
rival at Fort St. Louis."
My eyes fell before his earnest
gaze, and I felt my limbs tremble.
"Mon dieu! Why? There was some
special cause?"
"Yes, monsieur listen. Do not be
lieve this is my thought, yet I must
tell you the truth. Ilugo Chevet was
found dead, murdered, at St. Ignace.
'Twas the morning of our departure,
and your boat had already gone. Cas
sion accused you of the crime, as some
of the men saw you coming from the
direction where the body was found
late at night, and others reported that
you two had quarreled the evening
before. Cassion would have tried you
offhand, using his authority as com
mander of the expedition, but prom
ised not to file charges until we
reached St. Louis, If I made pledge
'twas then that I gave him my word."
D'Artigny straightened up, the ex
pression on his face one of profound
astonishment.
"He he accused me," he asked, "of
murder to win your promise?"
"No, monsieur; he believed the charge
true, and I pledged myself to assure
you a fair trial."
"Then you believed also that I was
guilty of the foul crime?"
I caught my breath, yet there was
nothing for me to do but give him a
frank answer.
"I I have given no testimony, mon
eleur," I faltered, "but I I saw you
in the moonlight bending over Che
vet's dead body."
CHAPTER XIV.
We Exchange Confidences.
My eyes fell before his; I could not
look Into his face, yet I had a sense
that he was actually glad to hear my
words. There was no anger, rather
happiness and relief in the gray eyes.
"And you actually believed I struck
the blow? You thought me capable
of driving a knife into the man's back
to gain revenge?"
"Monsieur, what could I think?" I
urged eagerly. "It did not seem pos
sible, yet I saw you with my own
eyes. You knew of the murder, but
you made no report, raised no alarm,
and In the morning your boat was
gone before the body was found by
others."
"True, yet there was a reason which
I can confess to you. You also dis
covered the body that night, yet
aroused no alarm. I saw you. Why
did you remain silent? Was it to
protect me from suspicion?"
I bent my head, but failed to find
words with which to answer. D'Arti
gny scarcely permitted me time.
"That is the truth; your silence tells
me it was for my sake you remained
still. Is It not possible, Adele, that
my purpose was the same? Listen to
me, my girl, and have faith in my
words I am not guilty of Hugo Che
vet's death. I did not like the man,
it is true, and we exchanged words in
anger while loading the boats, but I
never gave the matter second thought.
That was not the first night of this
journey that I sought to assure my
self of your safety."
"I know Monsieur Cassion and of
what he is capable, and felt that
some time there would occur between
you a struggle so at every camping
place, where it was possible, I have
watched. It was for that purpose I
approached the Mission house. I
gained glimpse within, and saw Cas
sion asleep on a bench, and knew you
had retired to the chamber above. I
was satisfied, and started to return
to the camp. On my way back I
found Chevet's body at the edge of
the wood. I discovered how he had
been killed a knife thrust in the
back."
"But you made no report; raised no
alarm."
"I was confused, unable to decide
what was best for me to do. I had no
business being there. My -first im
pulse was to arouse the Mission house;
my second to return to camp and tell
the men there. With this last pur
pose in view I entered the wood to
descend the hill, but had hardly done
so when I caught sight of you in the
moonlight, and remained there hidden,
watching your movements with hor
ror. I saw you go straight to the
body, assure yourself the man was
dead; then return to the Mission house
and enter your room by way of the
kitchen roof. Do you realize what
your actions naturally meant to me?"
I stared at him, scarcely able to
speak, yet in some way my lips
formed words.
"You you thought I did it?"
"What else could I think? You
were hiding there; you examined the
body; you crept secretly in through
the window and gave no alarm."
The horror of it all struck hm like
tier
a blow, and I covered my eyes with
my bands, no longer able to restrain
my sobs. D'Artigny caught my hands
and uncovered my face.
"Do not break down, little girl," he
entreated. "It Is better so, for now
we understand each other. You sought
to shield me, and I endeavored to pro
tect you. 'Twas a strange misunder
standing, and, but for the accident to
the canoe, might have had a tragic
ending."
"You would never have told?"
"Of seeing you there? of suspecting
you? Could you think that possible?"
"But you would have been con
demned; the evidence was all against
you."
"Let us not talk of that now," he
Insisted. "We have come back ,to a
faith in each other. You believe my
word?"
"Yes."
"And I yours."
His handclasp tightened, and there
was that In his eyes which frightened
me.
"No, no, monsieur," I exclaimed and
drew back quickly. "Do not say more,
for I am here with you alone, and
there will be trouble enough when
Cassion returns." .
"Do I not know that?" he said, yet
releasing my hands. "Still it can sure
ly do no harm for us to understand
each other. You care nothing for
Casslon; you dislike, despise the man,
and there is naught sacred in your
marriage. We are in the wilderness,
not Quebec, and La Barre has little
authority here. You have protected
me with your silence was It not be
cause you cared for me?"
"Yes,, monsieur; you have been my
friend."
"Your friend! Is that all?"
"Is that not enough, monsieur? I
like you well; I would save you from
injustice. You could not respect me
if . I said more, for I am Monsieur
Casslon's wife by rite of Holy church.
I do not fear him ie is a coward;
but I fear dishonor, monsieur, for I
am Adele la Chesnayne. I would re
spect myself and you."
The light of conquest vanished from
the gray eyes. For a moment he stood
silent and motionless; then he drew a
fitep backward and bowed.
"Your rebuke is just, madame," he
said soberly. "We of the frontier grow
careless in a land where might is
right, and I have had small training
save in camp and field. I crave your
pardon for my offense."
So contrite was his expression I had
to smile, realizing for the first time
the depth of his interest In my good
will, yet the feeling which swayed me
was not altogether that of pleasure.
He was not one to yield so quietly, or
to long restrain the words burning his
tongue, yet I surrendered to my first
Impulse, and extended my hand.
"There is nothing to pardon, Sieur
d'Artlgny," I said frankly. "There is
no one to whom I owe more of cour
tesy than you. I trust you fully, and
believe your word, and In return I
ask the same faith. Under the condi
tions confronting us we must aid each
other. We have both made mistakes
in thus endeavoring to shield one an
other from suspicion, and, as a result,
are both equally in peril. Our being
alone together here will enrage Mon-
His Handclasp Tightened, and There
Was That in His Eyes Which
Frightened Me.
sieur Cassion, and he will use all his
power for revenge. My testimony will
only make your case more desperate
should I confess what I know, and
you might cast suspicion upon me "
"You do not believe I would."
"No, I do not, and yet, perchance,
It might be better for us both if I
made full confession. I hesitate mere
ly because Cassion would doubt my
word; would conclude that I merely
sought to protect you. Before others
fair-minded Judges at St Louis I
should have no hesitancy in telling the
whole story, for there Is nothing I did
of which I am ashamed, but here,
where Cassion hag full authority, such
a confession would mean your death."
1
A Romance of
Early Days in
the Middle West
"He believes that you feel interest
In me?"
"I have never denied it; the, fact
which rankles, however, is his knowl
edge that I feel no Interest whatever
in him. But we waste time, monsieur,
in fruitless discussion. Our only course
is a discovery of Hugo Chevet's real
murderer. Know you anything to war
rant suspicion?"
D'Artigny did not answer at once,
his eyes looking out on the white
crested waters of the lake.
"No, madame," he said at length
gravely. "The last time Chevet was
seen alive, so far as I now know, was
when he left the boats in company
with Monsieur Cassion to return to the
Mission house. Could there be any
reason why Cassion should desire the
death of Chevet?"
"I know of none. My uncle felt
bitter over the concealment of my for
tune, and no doubt the two had ex
changed words, but there was no open
quarrel. Chevet was rough and head
strong, yet he was not killed in fight
for the knife thrust was from behind."
"Ay, a coward's blow. Chevet
possessed no papers of value?"
I shook my head.
"If so, no mention was ever made
to mo. But . monsieur, you are still
wet, and must be cold In this wind.
Why do you not build the fire, and
dry your clothing?"
"The wind does have an Icy feel,"
he admitted, "but this is a poor spot
Up yonder in the wood shadow there
is more warmth, and besides it af
fords better outlook for the canoes.
Have you strength now to climb the
bluff?"
"The path did not appear difficult,
and it Is dreary enough here. I will
try."
I did not even require his aid, and
was at the top nearly as soon as he.
It was a pleasant spot, a heavy forest
growing almost to the edge, but with
green carpet of grass on which one
could rest, and gaze off across the
wide waste of waters. When I fin
ally turned away I' found that D'Arti
gny had already lighted a fire with
flint and steel in a little hollow within
the forest. He called to me to join
him.
"There is nothing to see," he said,
"and the warmth is welcome. You
had no glimpse of the boats?"
"No," I admitted. "Do you really
believe they survived?"
"There was no reason why they
should not if properly handled. I
have controlled canoes in far worse
storms. They are doubtless safely
ashore beyond the point yonder. You
are not afraid to be left alone?"
"No," in surprise. "Where are you
going?"
"To learn more of our surroundings
and arrange some traps for wild game.
I will not be away long, but someone
should remain here to signal any
canoe returning in search."
I watched him disappear among
the trees without regret or slightest
sense of fear at thus being left alone.
The fire burned brightly and I rested
where the grateful warmth put new
life Into my body. The silence was
profound, depressing, and a sense of
intense loneliness stole over me. I
felt a desire to get away from the
gloom of the woods, and climbed the
bank to where I could look out once
more across the waters.
The view outspread before me re
vealed nothing new; the same dread
waste of water extended to the hori
zon, while down the shore no move
ment was visible. As I rested there,
oppressed by the loneliness, I felt little
hope that the others of our party had
escaped without disaster.
D'Artigny did not believe his own
words; I even suspected that he had
gone now alone to explore the shore
line; seeking to discover the truth and
the real fate of our companions. At
first this conception of our situation
startled me, and yet, strange as It may
seem, my realization brought no deep
regret. I was conscious of a feeling
of freedom, of liberty, such as had not
been mine since we departed from
Quebec. I was no longer watched.
spied upon, my every movement or
dered, my speech criticized. More, I
was delivered from the hated presence
of Cassion, ever reminding me that I
was his wife, and continually threaten
ing to exercise his authority. Ay, and
I was with D'Artlgny, alone with him,
and the Joy of this was so-deep that
I came to a sudden realization of the
truth I loved him.
Do you believe that the love
is mutual; and it is too good to
be true that Cassion has
drowned? $
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Family Tree.
Bacon I see in Jamaica there are
trees called "whip trees," and from
these the natives make strong whips
with the lash and handle all in one.
Egbert Gee, what a family tree for
some people I could mention I
Very Much of One.
"That boy will never make a noise
in the world."
"Don't you believe it He has Just
joined an amateur brass band."
MTMriONAL
fearSoiooL
Lesson
IBv E. O. SELLERS, Acting Director of
the Sunday School Course of the Moody
Bible Institute. Chicago.)
(Copyright. 1918, Western Newspaper Union.)
LESSON FOR AUGUST 20
RIOT AT EPHESUS.
LESSON TEXT Acts 19:23-41.
GOLDEN TEXT The love of money Is
the root of all kinds of evil. I Tim. 6:10.
Teachers ought to have good maps
and keep before the minds of their
classes both the ancient and modem
names of the places Paul visited. Paul
resided at Ephesus nearly three years,
A. D. 53 to 56. The events of this les
son occurred about three years after
our last lesson in Acts.
I. The Missionary Work of Paul
(vv. 1-10). How long Paul remained at
Antioch after his second journey we
do not know, but having passed
through the "upper coast" he came to
this city of Ephesus, which was an
Important city and a great mission
field. In Revelations 2 and 3 Is a list
of the churches which he evangelized
from this center. It was a great and
effectual door for him (I Cor. 6:9;
read also Acts 20:17; 2:35). In this
city Paul found a religious guild of 12
members (see vv. 2-7), whose relig
ious experience needed the enrichment
of the Holy Spirit ; a like need is ever
before the Christian church.
II. The Miracles Wrought by Paul
(vv. 11-20). Ephesus was a center of
magic and witchcraft, and special
power was given Paul to work mira-
VIVO TTiilVU LVUIUUIIUCU IUU UialVlUU7
In this, their stronghold. The Gospel
proves Its power most and best by
transforming the characters of , men.
Deeds of love and service are the best
proofs of Christianity, and these are
the things which awaken heathen na
tions to seek after the Christian relig
ion. But such deeds are often Imi
tated as In this case. (See v. 13.)
However, only the real spirit of Christ
can work the true workings of the
Gospel, and thus the name of the Lord
Jesus was magnified in Ephesus. Imi
tation Is often the sincerest form of
flattery. '
III. The Mob's Attack Upon Paul's
Work (vv. 21-41). The first result of
Paul's work was the burning of the
books of magic (vv. 18-20). Many who
had been dupes of the magician
ceased their secret practices and de
clared their wrongdoings in this pub
lic manner. Literally, book after book
was thrown Into the fire, much the
same as In Florence Savonarola had
his "bonfire of vanities." Paul's won
derful success had to have Its testing
before he left The Gospel "way," the
way of salvation, of true living, Is
sure to create a stir sooner or later.
Preach the Gospel faithfully and fully,
and it will stir up any community. It
Is not necessarily a bad sign when
things begin to be disturbed. It may
simply indicate that the fire Is get
ting hot The good results of reviv
als do not hurt business, but they do
hurt the devil. So that "big business"
was intensely stirred up in the city
of Ephesus. Demetrius, their leader,
uttered a striking and truthful com
mendation of Paul (v. 26), although
it was entirely unintentional. (See
I Thess. 1:9-10). Demetrius does not
seem to seek to controvert the preach
ing of Paul, or that it did not square
with the word of God, but rather that
It would interfere with financial con
siderations. The modern world is full
of descendants of the Ephesian silver
smiths, politicians and business in
terests which defend the saloon, and
fairly respectable citizens who receive
rents from such business, or from im
moral or unsanitary properties, and
who cry out against any reform which
Interferes with trade and money mak
ing. There are many today who are
very enthusiastic religionists if they
can coin money out of it of get Into
an office.
At this theater meeting (Paul was
not present, vv. 29, 31) Demetrius ap
pealed (1) to wealth, (2) to religion,
(3) to the honor and fame of the city,
and (4) he also made an esthetic ap
peal, (vv. 25, 26, 27). .The Jews put
forward one of their number, Alexan
der, to make a defense unto the peo
ple, and to show that they were not
in sympathy with Paul and his com
panions in their preaching against the
worship of Diana or that as Jewish
Christians they did not maliciously
hope to destroy the worship of Diana
and the business interests of that city.
Their effort, however, only stirred the
mob to a larger shout, "Great Is Diana
of the Epheslans," which lasted for
two hours.
Those who yell the loudest think
they are sure to prove their point,
though in such a way the point does
not stay proved. Paul combines fear-
loca nnlirn rro nnrl tmmhlo rnmmnr
sense, and, while he fain would ap
peal to the mob (v. SO), he refrained.
The mob must-soon awaken to the
manliness and spirit of Paul's soul.
It was the town clerk who Interfered
(v. 35-41) and by skillful management
quelled the excited mob. He was the
temple keeper and showed that the
worship of Diana was so settled In
Ephesus that no company of Jews
could overthrow It, and that they did
not have any real cause for violence.
He also emphasizes the fact that
the Image of Diana, their chief god,
had been miraculously sent to them
by Jupiter. He called attention to the
fact that Paul had not committed the
wrong of which he was charged.