Carnac's Folly, Volume 3_

t on, the strain became intense. Her eyes were aflame with excitement, but she grew thinner, until at last she was like a ghost haunt

er a quarter of a century, but it had an unforgettable touch. She waited a moment, her face pale, her eyes shining with tortured memory. She waited for the servant to answer the kn

e trembled. Some old quiver of the dead days swept through her. How distant and how-bad

you wish her

e on the handle. "I cannot speak with the night looking in. Won

r. Then she turned, and,

both a robber

ntil they had enter

against me now. Is he not bril

n her face

the end. Your speech roused in him the native public sense, the ancient fire of the people from whom he did not know he came. His origin has been his bane from the start. He did not know why the man he thought his father seemed almost a st

though to stay her speec

ck with feeling-"that he never could bear to take money from John Grier, and that, even as a child, gifts seemed to trouble him. I think he wanted to give back again all that John Grier had ever paid out to him or for him; and now, at last, he fights the m

rd reflections on her face, he had a feeling that she was more than normal. He saw her greater than he had ever imagined her. Something in him revolted at a war between his own son and himself. Also,

an who, in a real sense, had been his mistress of body and mind for one short term of life, and who once, and once only, had yielded to him. They were both advanced in

ances to the

too generous to injure anyone. Down at the bottom of his heart, cantank

had hunger of the body, but of love you did not know. I know you, Barode Barouche. You have no hear

yes, in his whole being. His face flushed: his eye

t you both to yourselves was the best proof I was not neglectful. I was sorry, with all my soul, that you should have suffered through me. In the first reaction, I felt that nothing could put me right with you or with eternal justice. So I shra

It would seem the horrible revenge Destiny should take." He took a step nearer to her. His face flame

s flushed. She

for no one else. To him, life was his business, and to the long end business mastered his emotions. I have no faith in you! In the depth of my soul something cries out: 'He is not true. His life is false.' To leave me that was

me from me. Why should you say that all that's good in the boy is yours-that the boy, in all he do

now-young, beautiful, buoyant; but I come to you because I feel we might still have some years of happines

as in his fingers something which stirred ulcers long

l live for my son. I hope he will defeat you. I don't lift a hand to help him except to give him money, not John Grier's money but my own, always that.

y. Once again, and perhaps for the last time, she had renewed the splendour of her young womanhood. Th

t of contest in him. The evil thing in him, which her love for her son had almost conquered, ca

to the isolation whence he came. Do you think I don't know how to win an election? Why from east to west, from north to south in this Province of Quebec my n

when he defeats you, it will finish everything for you. You will disappear from public life, and your day will be done. Men will point at you as you pass along the street, and say: 'There goes Barode Barouche. He was a great man in his day. He was defeated by a boy with a painter's

onquered. Instead of telling her of Luzanne Larue, and of what he would do if he found things going against him, instead of that he resolved to say naught. He saw he c

efeat Carnac. No, do not shake your head. He shall not put me from my place. For you and me there is no future-none; yet I

his stick, he left the room. He opened the front door, stepped