Daily Republican., 1886-01-07
JUANITA's RQNOR.
BY NJ. 4. HOLAHAN,

Great heavens. Juanita, you arc
cold as icel oh. darling, darling, have
you no hearth
The white moonlight which falls on
the girls pure, pale face, witnesses a
spasm OF exquisite pain and pathos,
then il is gone--unseen by him--and.
leaning against the marble pillar, she
seems some part OF it--a beautiful car
ven goddess--robed in white.
" Oh. no-thank youl" she laughs.
and 1t sounds like the tinkling of tiny
silver bells. " The night is glorious
am not particle cold, and as for
heart-do you really think, Mr.. Ross.
that divine deity could be so unjust
as to deprive me of that necessary
organ?"
You do not carc,' he cries passion
ataly. You never cared, and I-ah,
Hesvenl-I love you madly AS l never
have and never shall love any other
woman. Darling, give me some hope
You do not love him. surely"
"Do not," in careless GOODNESS, that
makes him wish his words recalled.
You are very clever, Mr.. Ross"
A weary CLEAN OF pain flashes in
her great shadowy eyes. rare smile
of bitter beauty lies around the corners
OF her lovely lips.
She never looks at him-she dare
not for fear of breaking down-giving
way to the wild idolatory and love
which she has so fiercely repressed all
those light merry days while she has
been at Mossbank-the guest of Ro-
bert Warren, her own afiianced hus-
band.
II has been rarely happy summer
The hours had danced away in a
mad tarantella of bliss; amid summer
fragrance and summer bloom she had
not realized their fight.
BIT now II was almost at an end: to-
morrow would witness the first depart
ures, the lingering farewells; through
the low French windows of the draw
ing-room they can see the guests gath
ed around the piano; below them in the
garden flooded with white moonlight,
others are grouped around a sparkling
few. and all accepted
lovers arm in arm but one, and that
one Robert Warren.
His eyes are raised 10 the balcony
where these two stand, with look OF
odd tender yearning and deathlcss pain
In their dark depths.
Suddenly a woman's voice, q rich
touched with a rare pathos
Of despair, follows the piano notes from
within, breaks on the hushed white
beauty of the night and blends with
iis harmony.
WI the swallows homsWsrd fly,
And the roses scattered lie;
When from neither hill nor vale,
Chants the silvery nightingale.
In th1se words my bleedi.g heart,
Would 70 thee ite gtef mpAr,,
Whsn 1 thus thy image lose.
Dan l-ah, can e'er know repose?''
AS the last note trembling, Gibbs,
and dies away, the group around the
move slowly toward the
house.
Then at last Juanita Desmond turns
her beautiful face, with quivering lips
and passionate, pain-drawn eyes
oward Mr.. Ross.
You understand" she whispers
holding out her snowy
land. q Let it be peace between us.
After all. time is not eternity, and
lonor is something. l am engaged to
Robert Warren, he is affianced to me
10 matter how-yc we rushed blind
y ON to our fate. Yes"-with
weary smile-"I confess il now-I
owe you; but as you are strong, Den
Ill, be mercifull We both knew; vet
we alone are To blame"
There is touch of imprisoned
'atnos in the sweet, quivering voice
! world of hopeless love in the great
lark eyes that meet his.
He holds out his strong white hands
With ycarning cry of passionate love
md reproach, but she only shrinks
loser against the marble pillar, look
ng like beautiful pinioncd slave in
white garments of severe sim
,licity, and look of fear in her love
y dark eyes.
Seeing that, he grows suddenly
aim and hopeless, and the approach.
ng group are just below them.
He lifts the tiny hand in his own to
lis bearded lips in passionate tender.
less.
" must let you CO." he whispered:
yet love you so wildly that -
Well, / shall love you so until die.
Goodbye, sweetheart"
Then it is all over except the pain.
laughing and chatting, the merry
rowd pause before them, and though
hey can see that he is putting a terri.
lie constraint on himself, her face.
beautiful and white, expresses moth.
ng.
:. I" II | were only sculpture?" cries
Kick Tracey, admiringly. =" You look
s though you were a part of that
White pillar, Juanita. You look like
ne of those beautiful things thew
arve in white stone. Oh, if 1 only
we're an artist, sculpture, a-hl
Don t say Ounce. Tracey" Mr..
laughs nonchalantly. 60 There
$ something so vulgar and uncom-
ortable in facts.
Mr.. Tracey groans dismally, and a
,athetic smile, which they are too hap
~ to notice, curves the beautiful lips
If Juanita.
81 do not think you are very COM
Mr., Tracey" she says,
n marvellous, flute-like voice. ITO
all me thing when had posed for
fleet, and thought l was looking my
,est."
Isn't it beautiful ~ exclaimed
hr. Tracey, with enthusiasm. at
makes me feel almost sentimental.
With his eyes on the face of the pretty
widow, Mrs. Oarew. "Isn't it lovelyf"
"Hold on, Tracey, I'll withdraw"