The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1882-08-10
@ A & I T A.

reproachful assertion; but as Maurice
Vernon uttered it, the dark, liquid eyes
of the girl to whom he addressed it fill
ed with tears. They did not fall; they
only clung to the long lashes, until,
freighted with their weight, it seemed
they must drop from them, but Carita
forced them back
''Not love you?" she repeated, in q
sweet musical voice, to which a foreign
accent lent added piquancy and charm.
'Ah, Maurice, you are very cruel when
you speak to me like that! You know
that / love you but too much, else why
did promise to be your wife?''
"a wife should have no secrets from
her husband, Carita-a fiancee from her
betrothed; yet when l asked you what
possible claim this young man, whom l
met tonight for the second time coming
from your presence, can have upon
you, you refuse to answer me-"
You put it so strangely, so strongly,
when you speak of claim. I acknow-
ledge, Maurice, no claim save yours
But he belongs to my country; he is
in trouble, and he comes to me for SYM
pathy."
Maurice sprang to his feet. and paced
excitedly up and down the pretty room.
Everywhere the lovely dark, tear-wet
eyes followed him.
You are angry with me-" she said,
piteously-'very angry. Have you no
trust, no confidence in me?'
you try all that l have to the utter
most" he answered. ''Carita," paus-
ing before her in his walk, .syou must
,1t ,,,~fc,
again. He must learn to do without
your sympathy" emphasizing the last
word with unconscious irony
The girls beautiful face paled.
You command me to see him no
more?" she asked.
NAY, darling, do not desire to put
it so harshly as a command; but can
not consent to you again receiving him.
do not like his looks. He muttered
something under his breath, too, as l
passed him tonight. He is deceiving
you, Carita; he loves you, and is jeal-
Gus of me as your accepted lover"
mo, no! You are unjust. He can
not love me, we have been friends from
children. He is rash and is in disgrace
with the government. He wishes only the
freedom of our country. He loves moth
ing SO well us freedom-he has no time
to think of other loves; but will tell
him he must come no more. He will
obey me-"
That is NY own, brave. dear girlr'
said Maurice, STOPPING to kiss the
sweet, upturned lips. "And you will
not think me severe, little oneP Y ou will
believe am not all selfish in my re-
questP"
Il will try to believe whatever you
would have me-" she replied, but as she
spoke she sighed.
An hour later, when he had babe her
goodnight, Maurice remembered the
sigh, and wondered what had called it
| forth.
Two months previously he had been
ordered to Italy by his physicians, to re-
| cover from severe illness. The second
day after his arrival he had met the girl
| who had captured his heart She had
been already fortnight his betrothed.
She was an orphan, and living under
the roof of an old aunt. Save her Won
derful beauty, she possessed no wealth,
but many fortunes had been laid at her
little feet, if but with them she would
accept their owner, yet, until Maurice
had come (she told him) her heart had
not awakened from its sleep. He had
been the Magic Prince whose kiss had
| reused it from its slumber.
She had been educated in London,
and spoke English perfectly, though she
best loved her own liquid tongue.
Whispered rumors of a revolution
were rife in Rome just at this time, and
| all strangers were regarded with sus-
picion. therefore it was with real relief
that Maurice, remembering what Carita
| had told him of her friends standing
with the government, recalled her
| promise to him to see him no more.
Why had she sighed when she made it?
| That she gave it at all was proof of her
love, and yet the sigh shadowed it with
jealous doubt he strove in vain to
| drive away.
1t haunted him until he was again with
her, and then he forgot all save that her
eyes and lips together spoke a language
sweeter than any ever known before.
Love, with this man, was no trivial
| sentiment. 1t absorbed his being-it
| dominated over all else. He looked
back upon the thirty-five years OF
his existence in wonderment that he
had never more painfully and acute
ly felt their emptiness. He looked
forward to the future, which Carita was
to share. and its dazzling brightness
blinded him.
He had bade her goodnight. one even.
| ing, few weeks after the talk we have
described between them, when, standing
in the shadow of the street, he deserted
| the figure of a man standing as ifawait-
ing something, Walking few steps, he
turned back to look again.
In that instant, Carita. In her white
dress stepped out through the low French
window of the drawingroom upon the
balcony. As instantly the man vaulteo
over the low railing and stood beside