Daily Republican. [volume] ([Wilmington, Del.]) 1874-1890, 1886-09-10

yours. Why did you let me do it?
Why did not you, who might have
done so, save me from myself Some |
time shall end it all with this, and
then"
A quick movement of his arm, and
a low, mirthless laugh breaks from his
lips as she falls back in horror from
sight Of the jewcled revolver flashing
in the moonlight.
"Put it awayp' she pants hoarsely,
stepping forward to touch his arm,
while her great, dark eyes geek his.
"You never will, Cousin Arthur Give
lit to me. Remember, your life and
mine are the work Of your own hands.
II you have spoiled them, there is still
a chance beyond this life. Blame no
one but yourself-no one else is to
blame. In sel6shness you chose the
wealth which was not then mine. II
it has turned to Dead Sea fruit"
"Heavensl' he whispers, snatching
her slim hands in his fiercely, sis not
my loss sufficient without thisy Naomi
| am going away. That is why l
came here to night. Forgive Inc the
base intention; but l meant that you
should fly with me. That is all over
now. am q better, if hopeless man.
/ shall never return, dear. Will you
kiss me once = cousinly, il you will
that | may carry it with me to the
lgrave?'
In silence she lifts her beautiful
head and touches her lips to his, and
perhaps the peace and benediction of
her kiss were registered in heaven.
Then she turns towards the house, tell
ling herself that now, at least, lie is
dead.
"Where have you been, Naomi?"
!cries Dora, meeting her on the bal
cony, and starting back in alright as
she lifts her lovely dark eyes, heavy
with unshed tears. "What is the mat
tier, dear2 l sent Tom to look for you,
and he says he was all over the garden
and could not find you"
! A swift rush of color dyes Naomi's
pale cheeks. OF course he saw her if
he was all oyer the garden, and-him.
Her heart gives wild throb of pain,
! hardly so much for the misery Of the
man she left behind her, as for the
shame of standing before the strong
man, and knowing that in his heart
she is condemned.
!, "You are rash," he says In low,
cold tone, as she leaves them at the
foot of the stairs. "The night air is
dangerous, especially at the lake. 1t
is quite wrong to WOO death"
$50 many things we do that are
Trash and wrong" she says YEARLY,
! turning away, THAT one more or less
cannot matter. | wonder If we ever
do anything right or well?"
But ii is hardly look of scorn with
which his eyes follow the beautiful
form until the corridor takes it from
view; and although he avoids her, ap-
: parently, very frequently during the
brilliant ball his eyes meet hers, and
hold them in some vague, strange way
that thrills and startles Naomi
X
"You were unjust" saws Naomi in
, a low voice; ''you never gave me any
chance; you condemned me before
. you saw me-"
'But never since" replies Tom
Denzil. in a voice quite as low, for the
: shore is crowded with gay, laughing
guests. "Never since the night | came
:, to seek you here, Naomi, and found
. you"
"Don'tl" she whispers, beseechingly
; extending one tiny hand, which hi
/, catches and for moment holds "Bt
r merciful-I am going away to-day
: you know"
=. care your" he asks suddenly. "Yol
: did not tell me. Why"
Il "Why should you care?" she asks
: with averted eyes. sit can make NJ
difference"
"But It does" he answers, so stern
+, ly that her eyes are raised to meet his
"You belong to me by right of dis
'covery that night. No, love-hearing
:. how could | condemn you? | viii
r never surrender you, unless Mao
mi do you love me- Answer me!'
And the strangest part of it is thai
! he takes il for an answor-that shy lil'
of her lovely eyes.