The Ketchum keystone. [volume] (Ketchum, Idaho) 1885-1899, 1886-09-25

idly, and obeyed him.
. Lifting her fresh young voice she
sent it afar on the evening silence
, free and unframed as the voice of q
bird. Passionate pain-passionate
protest against the fate that parted
them, all the wild hunger Of her
; heart for the love that was going out
of her life, were in the clear pulls
ing notes as they left the white lips
Of the girl. The rocks caught them
and flung them back, over the sheen
Of the waters, where they fingered
like spirit-cries.
Something in the voice-some-
thing in the face Of the singer
stirred Glynn Harris's selfish heart
as he lay on the sands and listened.
Some faint touch of regret for his
idle wooing of this innocent young
heart stole to him, and, as she fin
ished her song, he arose slowly to
his feet.
The last note had died to silence
far away on the broad bosom OF
the deep. The eyes Of the girl
seemed to follow it as they strained
over the waters, dilated, dark, des-
pairing.
"She is very beautiful y he told
himself, as he had told himself so
of tenduring that dead summer
time.
Then, aloud:
Child, you sing as sweetly as a
German Lorelei. l never heard you
sing like that"
She looked at him then, and a
faint smile came about her lips,
while she shivered slightly.
1t was my farewell to you-to
ALL" she said softly; when you
go to your world you will some
times remember; and I"
Again that slight shudder went
over her, and her slender figure wav-
cred she put up one brown hand
and crushed it hard against her
bosom.
care you i'll J" he questioned,
alarmed at her pallor.
"No," she said, still very softly /;
it is not illness it is death !"
With the word on her lips, she
rceled back against the rocks.
He sprung forward and caught
her in his arms, startled out of his
easy Incidence by grey shadow
that swept over her face.
As he did so that shudder con-
vulsed her again, and a rushing
stream of crimson burst from her
lips, flowing over his hands, show
ing red and ghastly on the sands
at his feet.
He had slain the sailors child,
but with a weapon which left him
guiltless in the sight of men.
A party of guests from the great
hotel below, who had been walking
on the sand, head the frantic cry of
Glynn Harris-a cry that made
them hasten to him, where he
stood with the dying girl in his
arms, his own face white as the
one that lay helpness against his
shoulder, his eyes fixed in horror
on the warm red drops that were
flowing, more slowly now, from
her blue convulsed lips.
II am physician" one said to
him. Let me see what can be
done, and tell me what brought on
the hemorrhage?"
81 do not know" he faltered, all
the gay, selfish, worldly ease gone
from him, as all the careless hap
piness had gone from her.
They laid her on the sands, and
did all they could to check that
warm red flow of life-blood but
the physician stood up at last, his
face pale and sad.
"It is no use he said can art
cry has given; she is fast bleeding
to death. Let us get her to her
home-you can direct?" to Glynn,
who was ashen and trembling.
He pointed to the little cottage
far up the sands. He could not go
with them, could not face the eyes
Of her mother, could not see the
end of his summers amusement.
While they lifted her tenderly,
and bore her along the beach, he
remained there by the ocean, now
still, and cold, and grey as was her
young face when it lay calm
against his shoulder.
Perhaps he prayed there-who
knows? Perhaps he asked pardon
of God and of poor Virgie's flutter-
ing soul-what mortal knows?
But in the rose hues of dawn he
bent over the dead little figure, sobs
choking in his throat.
He laid few flowers on the still
heart he had broken, and the mother
blessed him in her ignorance.
He went back to his world, but
some tongue carried the tidings of
his Irritation by the sea. The wo-
man he loved broke troth with him
because of it. and perhaps in the !
1nnO lonely wears that followed the |