The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-06

respected her for the Scorn which now and
then flashed out from her upon himself;
and he felt both reverence and gratitude
for the faithful and fervent passion which
she had spent, and in so much wasted,
upon his life. Nothing can be more un-
true than that in such relations as theirs
reverence is impossible; reverence is ex-
cited by character, not by situation, and
he had learned to appreciate her nature
as he had never done in earlier days. The
very completeness and sincerity of the
proof which she had demanded from him
had showed a force in her before which he
felt himself wavering, weak, almost worth
less of a thought of hers.
He did his utmost TO conceal the de-
preston which weighed upon him; the
distress with which he was haunted when
he thought of that little house in the
gloom and silence of the lone sea shore;
the anger and impatient shame with
which the recollection OF Aubrey's words
of scOrn moved him whenever they Oc-
Cured to him.
He knew-he felt, that one living man
despised hin, and that man the one whom
of all others he the most esteemed him
self, the most admired. He had always
been irritablv conscious of the greatness
of Aubrey's life in contrast with the fri
volity and self-indulgence OF his own. 1t
was an uncomfortable humiliation to him to
be conscious that he had made it possible
for his cousin to address to him those
scathing words which pursued him in
memory as though they were the very
voices of pursuing ghosts.
And although he had received and had
accepted his cousins statement of his re-
lations with his wife, and did honestly in
in hi- halfat-a fhana uaf II ada hi
restless and unhappy to know that their
intimacy, however harmless, was familiar
and unwitnessed. that even, though only
her friend, Aubrey was still her only
friend and her most loyal servant 1t Of
Tended, it wounded, it tormented him;
and all his efforts could not conceal from
the penetration of Beatrice Soria
that the lassitude and dissatisfaction
which she had observed in him when in
her villa on the Brenta in the past autumn
had increased greatly since his brief abb
sence, and were rendered even the more
visible by the endeavor which ne made to
hide them under the over-affectation of
carelessness or the over-protestation of
devotion. She had the intuition and PEN
etration which are alone possible to
woman who is too learned in love to be
the servant of it, and too sure OF her power
ever to be vain with petty vanities; she
saw in him the reflection OF that vague
disappointment which had haunted her
in her meditations amongst the autumn
beauty of her gardens In the Veneto;
she realized that he, too, like herself,
though later than she had, failed to find
the same wonderful flower which they had
found and gathered together IN other
years. She was generous, she was proud
to arrogance, and she knew human char
acter with a knowledge that made her at
once disdainful and impatient of it. She
had had her own way; she had ruled
him as she chose; she had exacted and
enjoyed her just vengeance to the utter
most iota; what more could the future
bring her? And beside this likewise there
was in her the generous scOrn of pa
trician temper to hold By obligation what
has 1ed already in will, u enforce bond
from which the soul has already gone.
There was much arrogance in her, and
there had been some cruelty, but there
was more magnanimity than there was
either.
She said nothing to him, but she
watched him in the weeks which followed
on his return; and she read his mind as
though it had been opened before her
like book. She felt with a pang that
what she read there mattered but little to
her; year before his emotions had been
her world, now it seemed of small ac-
count that they should wander from her.
What Joy would there be in slowly-dying
illusion, in slowly-fading rapture, in
slowly-chilling passson? What triumph
would there be in watching
the sure, if gradual, change OF
ecstasy into mOnotOny, of gratitude, into
tedium, oil fervor into habit? She knew
the truth of the Greek counsel, Break
off the laurel bough whilst it is yet
green and burn it. Wait not until it
withers" She was an Epicurean, and
carried into the passions of her life at
once the fires of the senses and the cold
ness OF philosophy. When she had loved
him first she had been all fire; now her
wisdom was greater than her love; now
she could bear to put her heart under the
spectrum and watch its pulses change
from fast to slow.
The months of carnival follies passed,
and the spring equinox blew open the
spathes of the narcissi and called up the
golden scepters OF the asphOdel in all the
southern pastures. One night they strolled
together along the white terrace which
overhung the sea, as they bad done a
thousand times in the year just passed,
anu III IilS OlltI years VI SLlAA ~ d
cious time. The full moon was shining
the murmur Of the waves was audible, the
air was heavy with the scent OF lemon
flowers from the gardens beyond. 1t was
Italy-luminous, fragrant, amorous; yet
amidst it all he sighed. The sigh was un-
conscious but it was eloquent. She
paused and looked at him. A slight smile
came on her mouth, half of pity, half of
scoTn.
"If you are not happy" she said slowly,
'remember-I am not your jailer. Say
so, and GO"
He started violently, ashamed and be-
wildered, and ignorant of what he had
betrayed.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Happy ?-you have given me happi-
ness of which one needs to be god, not
man, to be worthyp
Eyes, you have been happy" she said
thoughtfully. at is something. Well,
go whilst you still are grateful for it"
"Go? Go whereP"
"Go to your wife,"
Even by the moonlight she saw how
white his face grew as he heard her; he
was paralyzed with fear and wonder.
''Why do you insult me?" he muttered !;
"you have my word"
"Yes, have had your word" she said,
with disdain, but with no anger. What
is a corpse worth when its soul has fled 2"
"You cannot think"