The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1891-04-03

and make light of,-for the finger o
scorn &c point out,-for the foul kissing
tonpue of Scandal to mock att Thi
creature was my wife tn'
mother of my child;-she had cast nut
on her soul by her own free Will an'
choice,-she had selected evil as mel
eood.-she had crowned herself VIII
shame willingly, nay-joyfully: she haf
preferred it to honour. What should DC
done? tortured myself increasingly
with this question. l stared blankly or
the ground-would some demon spring
from'it and give me the answer soughti
What should be done with HEREWITH
him, my treacherous friend, my smil
lag botrayer? Suddenly my eyes
Lighted on the fallen rose-leaves-thost
that had dropped when Guido's
embrace had crushed the flower
she wore. There they lay on the path,
curled softly at the edges like little
crimson shells. / stopped and picked
them up-placed them all in the hol
low of my hand and looked at them
They had a sweet odour almost
kissed them nay, nay!
I uOI-lutl udu lOO Aoih w
! the breast of an embodied Lie! Yes,
she was that, Lie, living, lovely, but
accursed Lie! go and kill her!" Stay
where had / heard that?H Painfully
considered, and at last remembered
and then l thought moodily
| that the starved and miserable rag
picker was more of a man than l. He
| had taken his revenge at once; while /,
! like a fool, had let occasion slip. Yes.
/ but not for ever! There were difTeren,
ways of vengeance; one must decide the
best, the keenest way-and, above all,
the way that shall intlict the longest,
the cruelest agony upon those by whom
honour is wronged. True-it would be
sweet to slay sin in the act of SHINING,
but then-mUst Romani brand himself
as murderer in the sight of men? Not SO;
there were other means-Other roads
leading to the same end if the tired brain
could only plan them out. Slowly
dragged my aching limbs to the fallen
trunk of trees and sat down, still hold
ing the dying rose-leaves in my clenched
palm. There was surging noise in my
ears-my mouth tasted of blood, my lips
were parched and burning as with fever.
"a white-haired fisherman" That was
me! The King had said so. Mechanic
ally looked down at the clothes / wore
the former property of suicide. "He
was a fool" the vendor of them had said,
che killed himself"
Yes, there was no doubt of il @.
he was fool. Iwould not follow his
example, or at least not yet .
/ had something to do tirst-sOmething
! L l. ,lrr
my way clear to it. Yes .
If l could only see my way and
follow it straightly, resolutely, re-
morselessIy! Ny thoughts were con-
fused, like the thoughts of a fever
stricken man in delirium the
scent of the rose-leaves l held sickened
me strangely,-yetI would not throw
them from me: no, l would keep them to
remind me of the embraces | had wit
messed! ! felt for my purse; l found and
opened it, and placed the whitening red
petals carefully within it. As l slipped
il again into my pocket l remembered
the two leathern pouches l carried-the
one filled with gold, the other with the
Jewels | had intended for her.
My adventures in the vault REQUIRED to
me: / smiled as l recollected the dire
struggle had made for life and liberty.
Life and libertv!-of what use were they
to me now, save for one thing-revenge?
/ was not wanted; | was not eX-
pected back to refill my former
place on earth the large fortune
| had possessed was now my wife's
by the decree of my own last will and
testament, which she would have no
difficulty in proving. But still, wealth
was mine-the hidden stories Of the
brigands were sufficient to make any
man more than rich for the term of his
natural life. AS considered this sort
of dull pleasure throbbed in my veins.
Money! Anything could be done for
money-gold would purchase even ven
geance. But what sort of vengeance?
Such a one as sought must be unique
refined, relentless, and complete. l
pondered deeply. The evening wind
blew freshly up from the sea; the leaves
of the swaying trees whispered myster-
iously together; the nightingales war
bled on with untired sweetness; and the
moon, like the round shield Of an angel
warrior, shown brightly against the
dense blue background of the sky.
Needless of the passing Of hours, l sat
still, lost in a bewilderSS reverie.
There was always false note some
where when he sang!' So she had said,
laughing that little laugh of hers as
cold and sharp as a clash Of steel.
True, true; by all the majesty of heaven,
most true! There was indeed a false
note-jarring, not so much the voice, as
the music of life itself. There is stuff in
all of US that will weave, and we desire
it, into a web Of stately or simple har-
mony; but let the meteor-like brilliancy
of woman'S smile-a woman's touch-a
woman's life-intermingle itself with the
strain, and 10! the false note is struck,
discord declares itself, and God Himself,
the great Composer can do nothing in
this life to restore the old calm tune of
peaceful, unspoilt days! So have found:
so all of you must find, long before you
and sorrow grow old together.
"A white haired fisherman?'
The words of the king repeated them
selves over and over again in my tor
tured brain. Yes. .. l was
greatly changed, l looked worn
and old no one would recog-
nize me for my former self. All at once,
with this Thought, an idea occurred to
me, plan of vengeance, so bold, so new,
and withal so terrible that l started
from my seat as though stung by an ad-
der, 1 paced up and down restlesSly,
with this lurid light of fearful revenge