Fort Worth gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-1898, 1891-06-07

nave
today" she tried to say.
Then the tears came, tears of shame, big
hot, slow. They fell upon his hand. She
was weeping for JOY, he thought. What
else could any man think in such case
He drew her to him, and pressed her cheek
with his hand as her head nestled on his
shoulder
when you put this ring on my finger,
| dear-So long ago
| She S0bbed aloud
No, darlng-no, dear heart; he said.
| comforting her, You must not cry-that
| long ago is over now and gone forever. Do
you remember that day, sweetheart, in the
broad spring sun upon the terrace among
| the lemon trees? No dear-your tears hurt
me al ways, even when they are shed for
| happlness-no, dear, no. Rest there-let
me dry your dear eyeS-so and so. Again
! Forever, if You will While YOU have tears
L have kisses TO dry them-it was so then,
on that very day. | can remember. l can
can see 1t ali-and you-you have not
| changed. love, IN all those years more than
a blossom changes in one hour of sum-
mer's day! You took this ring and put it
| on my finger Do You remember what
! saidE | know the very words | promised
| you-it needed no promise, either-that it
| should never leave its place until you took
1t back-and you-hOw well | remember
| your face-you said that you would take it
from my hand some day, when all was well,
| when you should be free to give me another
| in its stead, and to take one in return
| L have kept my word, beloved. Keep
| yours-l have brought you back the ring
| lake 1t, sweetheart. 1t is heavy with the
| burden OF lonely years. Take ii, and give
me that other which l claim -
| She did not speak. for she was fighting
down the choking sobs, struggling to keep
| back the burning drops that scaded her
| cheeks, striving TO gather strength for the
| weight OF greater shame. Lie or lose all
| the voice said
Very slowly she raised her head She
| knew that his hand was close to hers, held
there that she might fulfill Beatrice's
promise. Was she not free? Could she not
give him what he asked2 No matter how
she tried to say it to herself and could not
He was waiting. II she did not act soon or
speak he would wonder what held her back
--wonder-suspicion neXt-and them She
put out her hand TO touch his fingers, hali
blinded, cropping as though she could not
see. He made it easy for her He fancied
she was trembling, as she was weeping
with the Joy of it all.
She felt the ring, though she dared not
look at it. She drew it little, and felt that
it would come off easily. She felt the tin
gers she loved so well, straight, strong and
nervous, and she touched them loyiDgly.
The ring was not tight, it would pass easily
over the joint that alone kept it in its place.
Take it, beloved" he said, sit has
waited long enough
He was beginning to wonder at her hest
tation, as she knew he would. After Won
der would come suspicion-and then? Very
Slowly-it was Just upon the Joint of his
finger now. Should she do it? What would
happen? He would have broken his VOW
unwittirgiy. How quickly and gladly Be
atrice would have taken it. What would
she say if they lived and met-why should
they not meet? Would the spell endure
that shock-who would Beatrice be then,
The woman who had given him this ring?
Or another whom he would no longer know.
But she must be quick. He was waiting,
and Beatrice would not have made him
wait
Her hand was like stone, numb. motion
less, immoyahle, IS though some unseen be-
ing had taken it in an iron grasp and held
it there, in mid-air, Just touching his. Yes
no-yeS-she could not mOve-a hand was
clasped upon her wrist, a hand smaller
than his, but strong as fate. fixed in its grip
IS an iron vice.
Unorna felt cold breath, that was not
his, upon her forehead, and she felt rs
though her heavy hair We're rising OF itself
upon her head. She knew that horror, for
she had been ovcrtal:en by it once before
She was not afraid, but she knew what it
was. There was a shadow, too, and dark
woman, tall, queenly, with deep flashing
eyes, was standing beside her. She knew,
before she looked; she looked and it was
there. Her own face was whittier than that
other woman's.
Have you come already2n she asked Of
the shadow, in a low deSpairing tone.
'Beatrice-what has happened" cried
the Wanderer. To him, she seemed to be
speaking to the empty air and her white
face startled him. .a--.
Yes" she said staring still in the same
hopeless voice. 1T IS Beatrice. She has
come for YOU
Observation-Disclosures not speak like
that, For Gods sake-what do you see
There is nothing here"
Beatrice is there. I am Unorna."
''Cnorna, Beatrice-have we not said it
should be all the same? Sweetheart-loek
at me! Rest here-shut those dear eyes of
yours. 1t is gone now whatever it was
you are tired, dear-you must rest
Her eyes closed and her head sank. 1t
was gone, as he said, and she knew what it
had been-a mere vision called up by her
own over-tortured brain. Keyork Arabian
had name for ii.
Frightened by your own nerves, laughed
the voice, when if you had not been a cow
ard, you might have faced it down
and all would have been well. But
you shall have another chance, and lying is
very easy, even when the nerves are over
wrought. You will do better the next
time.
The voice was like Keyork Arabian's.
Cnstrong, almost forgetting all, she Won
dered vaguely at the sound, for it was real
sound and n real voice to her. Was her soul
his, indeed, and was he drawing it on
slowly, surely to the end? Had he been be-
hind her last nights Had he left an hours
liberty only to come back and take at last
what was his?
There is time yet, you have not lost him,
for he thinks You mad. The voice spoke
once more.
And at the same moment the strong, dear
arms were again around her, again her head
was on that restful shoulder of his, again
ner pale face was turned DIP to his, and
kisses were raining on her tired eyes, while
broken words of love and tenderness made
music through the tempest.
Again the vast temptation rose. How |
could he ever know Who was to undeceive |
him If he was not vet uudeceived2 Who |
so long as the spell lasted9 Why not then |
take what was given TO her, and when the |
end came, If it came, then tell all boldly
Even then he would not understand. Had |
he understood last night, when she had con- |
fessed all that she had done before! He |
had not believed one word of it, except that
she loved him. Could she make him believe |
it now, when he was clasping her so tierceiy |
to his breast. half mad with love for her |
himself.
So easy, too. She had to but forget that |
passing vision, to put her arms about his |
neck, TO give kiss for kiss, and loving word |
for loving word. Not even that. She had |