The Black range. (Robinson, Socorro County, N.M.) 1882-1897, 1883-11-23
A Lakeside Musing.

DO you love me truly, Harold 2"
Lurline Neversink was even more
beautiful than usual as she stood 10 the
soft, mellow light that streamed from
the chandelier overhead. Simpson
felt to wreck forever the happiness of
her young life, to plunge her soul into
the turpid depths of despair and hold
it there by the heels, were a crime
than which none could be more black.
He knew that this girl, whose weird.
passionate nature made her heart a
Lutte for every passing joy or grief to
play upon. had given to him the one
best love of a woman's life-her first.
1t WAS something to be tenderly fond
of, this love-something not to be worn
lightly on the sleeve where all might
see it, but tucked away carefully in
the wOOdshed of mans soul, secur-
ed alike from carping criticism or cruel
jest. And as George W. Simpson gazed
tenderly into the dark, lustrous eyes
that were aglow with hopeful expect
ancy, he felt that the maelstrom of
passionate alteration into which Lur-
line Neversnk had allowed herself to
be drawn would one day cast her young
heart bleeding and torn upon the jag
ged rocks of his refusal. 1t was a ter
rible, maddening thought, and 1t came
with awful force to George as he stood
in that palatial mansion, his feet sink
ing ito the elvet carpet until he was
in danger of becoming cock-ankled, and
heard the words with which this chap
ter opens.
Bending tenderly over the girl
George kisses her in chaste, New Ha-
ven, Conn, manner, but does not trust
himself to answer in words the fateful
question she had asked. And then
they passed into the music-roOm, which
is separated from the hall by a portiere
of navy blue velvet, The windows of
the room are shaded by curtains of the
same rich color, and the walls between
them are covered with paintings.
Statures of Mozart, Beethoven and
Guido led inches, while over the low
mantle hung a full-length portrait of
Maud S. No word was spoken until
Lurline had seated herself at the piano,
and then it was simply request that
he hand her certain piece of music.
AS he stopped forward to comply the
outlines of his face were brought into
strong relief against the ruddy back
ground of his left ear, and Lurline
gazed at him intently. His was such a
countenanc as one sees in old Italian
portraits, In some Vandykes, showing
power strangely blended with passion.
His mouth, beautiful as woman's,
with its smile generous and rare as a
Goldfish, was tightly compressed and
as bloodless as marble. His eyebrows,
dark, straight, and finely pencled. met
over his dark gray eyes, and in the lat
ter there was fixed, resolute express
sion that boded no good to square
meal if he should happen.to meet one.
At last the music was found and
Lullne began to sing. Carried away
by the inspiration of the moment, she
sang on and on until at last she paused
from sheer exhaustion. And then,
seeing that George was not at her side,
she turned to the sautenil at her left.
There he lay-dead in all the proud
grandeur of his glorious manhood,
while on his forehead fell the Golden
Dawning of Grander Day." He died at
the moment when he was passing the
stone that marks the loftiest point on
life's highway-died when manhood's
morning almost touches it,and while the
shadows were falling towards the west.
The mellow light from the chandelier
stole into the hushed chamber Of death
and wandered over his stately form
that lay powerless and stricken, over
his noble. handsome face, telling even
in death, Of the deathless love he bore