The Morning herald., 1877-01-04
asehs stood With Brandon a ths quarter.

es.hs stood WITH Bsandon oa'ths quarter.
9"No," said Brandon; s'there viii 5. 20
one e meet you here. ! must take you %
'To my homel You p cried Beatrice,
starting back. "You dare not"
II dare"
"Do you know what it is I"
II do not seek to know. I do not ask !;
but yet think know"
"And yet you offer tog go%
u must 60. must see you to the very
last" .rlf :.
"Be it so," said Beatrice, in solemn
voice, "since it is the very last" I'M
Suddenly she looked at him with the
solemn gaze Of one whose soul was filed
with thoughts that overpowered every
common feeli' 6. It was q glance lofty
AID serene and unimpassioned, like that Of
some spirit which has passed beyond hu-
man care, bui sad as that Of some prophet
Of woe. :
"Louis Brandonv'
At this mention of his name fash of
unsPeakable surprise passed over Bran
don's face. She held out her hand. "Take
my hand" said she, calmly, "and hold it
80 that may have strength to speak,"
Louis Brandon p said she, "there was
time on that African island when you
lay under the trees and l was sure that you
were dead. There was no beating to your
heart, and no perceptible breath. The last
test failed, the last hope left me, and l
knelt by your head, and took you in my
arms, and wept in my despair. At your
feet Cato knelt and mourned in his Hindu
fashion. Then mechanically and hope
lsssly he made Last trial to zee if you
were really dead, 80 that he might prepare
your grave. He put his hand under your
clothes against your heart. He held it
there for q long time. Your heart gave no
answer. He withdrew it, and in doing so
took something away that was suspended
about your neck. This was a metallic
case and package wrapped in oiled silk.
He gave them to me-"
Beatrice had spoken with sad. meas
ured tone-such tone as one sometimes
uses in praying passionless monotone,
without agitation and without shame.
Brandon answered not word.
"Take my hand" she said, "or I can
not 60 through. This only can give me
strength" r-sr,e
He clssped it tightly in both Of his.
She drew long breath, and continued:
II thought you dead, and knew the iull
measure of despair. Now, when these
were given me, wished to know the &C.
cret Of the man who had twice rescued me
from death, and finally laid down his life
for my sake. l did it not through curios-
| ity. I did it," and her voice rose slightly,
with solemn emphasis old it through a
holy fe cling that, since my life was due to
you, therefore, as yours was gone, mine
should replace it, and be devoted to the
purpose which you had undertaken.
II opened first the metallic case. 1t was
under the dim shade Of the African forest,
and while holding on my knees the head
of the man who had laid down his life for
me. You know what read there. l read
ola fathers love and agony. read there
the name of the one who had driven him
to death. The shadows of the forest grew
darker around me; as the full meaning
of that revelation came over my soul they
deepened into blackness, and l fell sense
less by your side.
"Better had Cato left US both lying there
to die, and gone off in the boat himself.
But he revived me. 1 laid you down gent
ly, and propped up your head, but never
again dared to defile you with the touch Of
one 90 infamous as l.
TO BE Continued