The Cecil Whig., 1884-09-06


believe that you-what can | say?
viii you forgive me-"
"On the day you say you love me,
and that is coming, " she answered with
a solemn impressiyeness that shook his
nerves in spite Of his knowledge that
her words were utterly futile. The
superabundant life that had been one
of her greatest charms was SO soon to
quenched, and she spoke of what was
to happen between them after the great
final change had cxtinguished it.
"Why not now, Dora?" he implored,
taking her hand. GLOW can there be
forgiveness if not now?"
That remains with you," she said
family, "and on that day my soul will
know and tell you. | shall again see
you with other eyes. :"
After that she refused to speak either
to him or to the Others who came back
into the room they had left that she
might talk at her ease.
"The end" murmurcd Fielding as
he stood beside her open grave with
uncovered head Eve are born and
we die, and that is the end"
i \
Time passed as usual. Fielding
threw himself more and more passion
ately into his profession, and for so
young man was becoming celebrated
for his micropcopic investigations Of
the life germ. He finally discovered
that he needed rest long after every
one else had been urging him to give
up his absorbing pursuit for time
and he betook himself in search of
health and eyesight to pretty village,
where SO few went for the summer that
he would be practically alone if he
wished. He made his temporary home
with a widow who rejoiced in the pos
session of one daughter, as beautiful a
specimen of humanity as it had ever
been Fielding's good fortune to meet.
He looked at her as physician is in
clined to regard pretty woman, with
the eye of an anatomist and found her
perfect.
He was willing to make it dual sol
itude for few weeks, and at first he
was amused at the loquacity of the
pretty mouth curving upward at the
corners like a Cupids bow. Pretty
mouths are SO rare in this world. Most
of those you see are mere gashes for
the exit of the necessary revelation or
concealment of ideas, or the perform
ance of gastromomic fcats or else the
heavy, unfinished lips lie loosely against
each other, as if heavens journeyman
had made them and not made them
well.
After a while he began to grow tired
of the ceascless flow of words without
an idea.
81 wish | dare make Il bargain with
her mother for her brain in case |
should outlivc her." he wrote in his
journal. ''The examination of it would
solve several problems that are torment
ing me at present. never met any
one in full possession of all her facul-
ties and a common education that
came SO near to being an idiot. She
seems to have absolutely no soul"
He started, stared at what he had
written, and threw down the pen in
disgust.
"What impelled me to use a word
there that | have not used for years?
How long is it since poor Dora Varian
died? Three years upon my word.
How time flies 1t seems like last
week, and yet | know it is months
since | have thought of her. But what
is that-does Miss Barrows play the
guitaro"
He leaned out of his window, for
he thought he heard low vibration
like musical string rapidly untuned.
No, it seemed in the room beside him.
He shook himself impatiently, muir
INJURED something about taking cold,
and then went down stairs where Miss
BaIrows was lounging in chair in the
sunset glow. She gave him sleepy
little smile as he took the chair beside
her; the heat had silenced her for a
few moments. Fielding took the fan
from her hand and slowly piled it back
and forth until her closed eyes and reg
ular breathing suggested that she might
be entirely oblivious of his presence.
He surveyed her with a feeling of
something like aversion, in spite of her
beauty, There was no intelligence in
the heavenly Clearness of her eyes, nc
trace of thought on the brows that
seemed almost chiseled the slip-shod
English that came from her full throat
in voice that at times was unearthly
sweet, dismayed his fastidious ear. He
Slightly pushed back his chair and
thought Of one Summer night when he
hae forgotten how the time passed when
Dora Narian andhc paced up and down
the garden path, softly talking. Miss
BarrowS stirred and unCloscd her eyes
when he moved.
'Have you missed me?" she said,
quietly, and again the guitar vibrated
on the air.
What was the matter with the girl?
Those were her eyes surely that he sat
gazing into aghast, and yet, where had
they caught that look of Dora Varian?
"Well," she said, with Dora's own
smile, Il have waited and watched, and
Al. 49,, l.. 1900,