Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1891-02-06


the pardon she had so cruelty deniei. He
thought, he honestly believed, that il she
had forgiven him he could have stayed
away. but she had refused him absolution,
and always that pale, small, sorrowful UNI
forgving face was before him.
He could not rest. IL was madness, no
doubt, but she drew him TO her with
force he could not resist.
There was no train to he had at that late
hour when he felt that overpowering desire
TO see her again grow upon him, with
strength not to be conquered; he had
borrowed horse from his host, on an ex-
cuse of instant business and had set out
upon his long ride TO Nentry with fever
ish impatience that rem Tered him imper-
vious 10 cold or rain or fatigue.
Now, at last. as the miles grow fewer, he
confesses 10 himself that he is in "A degree
tired two nights without sleep will tell on
most men, be they ever so happy, but with
n gnawing pain forever at the heart the
loss of those precious hours of forgetfuness
is sometimes worse than death itself.
Everything seems TO recur TO him with n
startling vivdness rs he rides on his silent
way, everything connected with his i'll al
vsed engagement to Katherine Cazalet.
His first meeting with her years ago, when
self-possessed orphan, to share her aunt's
home till she should be of age. He re-
members now with rather idle wonder,
how lovely he then had thought her; he, "a
very young man at that time, mere strip
ping, only one or two years her senior.
Then there was the cousinly relation be-
tween them, that ever seemed 10 draw
them closer together, and the natural pleas
ure he had felt when il dawned upon him
that she warm and tender in her man
ner to him alone whilst cold 10 all the rest
of the world And after that there was
the inSensible drifting into that closer tie
the knowledge, vaguely but certainly con
veyeI to him how, or by whom he hardly
knew then that marriage between the
cousins was matter widely discussed
and looked forward to by the world at
large To draw back now would bring
down on katherine the sneers of their many
friends TO sub iect her to much unpleasant
ness, nay to leave himself open to a charge
that touched his honor.
There was but one thing to be done, and
he had done it with n sufficiently good
grace. 1t seemed TO be the most natural
thing in the world, Katherine SO evidently
had expected it--and so had his mother.
There was no chance for withdrawal, and
besides it had really seemed a very usual
finish to n long friendship; so the betro hal
was speed made public, with a rapidly
! indeed that had astonisned him at the time,
and affairs had arranged themselves, and
everything had settled down into the usual
commonplaceness of an orthodox betrothal.
And tEen--came Norah!
How loud the wind roars; what sui
len cry arises from the sea! Delaney, who
is more worn out in body, and specially in
soul, than he at all believes, reels little
in his saddle, and then pulls himself to-
gether again, W tn fierce, vain wish that
it might all end now, here, this moment
Life! What a worry, turmoil it is! So
much la or Of spirit, so little rest; little
None, il seems TO him.
What flash was that, so blue, so vivid;
yet no thunder. There is strong promise
Of rain for the morrow, to come out OF
those lowering clouds. Delaney hardly
heeds the tempestuous signs o. coming
storm, riding ever onward, in half dazed
fashion, and conscious only of passionate
! longing to see Norah once again.
The moon again! How clear, how wildly
brilliant it makes all things scent To his
disordered fancy it lights the dark and
gloomy earth with a radiance almost super
natural; and somehow too at this time he
cannot help thinking that something is run
ming by his side But what
He looks down involuntarily, and-it is
! absurd of course-he almost laughs aloud
at this fantastic trick his ewes are playing
/ him-but is il a little child that is clinging
! 81 his stirrup leather, A little dead Oh Id
with white uplified face, and wide unseeing
! eyes
The moon goes out again, leaving the
world once more TO its darkness, but still
| Delaney has seen that little form, and feels
! certain it is there, running with him, al
ways with the tiny stiff fingers entangled
! in the strrup leather, and always with the
little dead face upl fled.
AMI now at last he reaches the gates OF
| Nentry, and passes through them down the
| long avenue the dead child entering, too
and clingng 10 him.
All at once horrible certainty smite.
upon him, certainty that it, the sad corpse
face, is like Norah. Norah What mad
ness! He can reason still, yet strong
shudder shakes him rs the thought declares
! Itself. IL follows him all the way round &c
the stables, where he diSmounts, and. with
that Wild fancy still strong upon him, ac-
tually in the darkness brushes down that
side Of the saddle where the small still
hand had seemed to be-to find, of course,
: nothing.
He breathes rather more freely after
! that, aid presses his hand to his forehead
which is throbbing TO an agoniz ng ee.
The whole thing was ridiculous, he tell.
himself as he filings the reins to a sleepy
! groom, and yet it Yves powerful bit OF
imagination, like presentiment-a pre-.
sentiment OF death. But death 10 whom
"A hideous fear thrills him. Yes, the face
! he is sure now-resembles Norah s.
Entering the house by IA small side door
heavily clamped with iron, Of which he has
the key, he goes sol tly up the staircase that
leads 10 the hall above If anything should
have happened TO Norah Perhaps even
now, as he stands here useless, some acci
dent may be taking place. Oh, to be Ger.
tain that she is safe at Clontree with thu
others He has opened the door of the
library and is standing just inside it, his
mind full Of one thought only one longing,
to see Norah again, alive safe His eye:
wander carele sly roun1 the room
then all at once he starts convulSively
What is that lying over there.
Almost it seems to him il must be Norah'.
lifeiess body, the realization of his fear.
and his presentiments-so still, so death
like IN her repose. But n second later wha,