The Fort Worth gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-189?, 1891-05-21
turned to him again.

| turned to him again
| There is no forgiveness for me in
| heaven" she said Shall there be none
| on earth, Not even little, from YOU to
| me?-
There is no question of forgiveness be-
| tween you and me. You have not injured
| me, but Israel Kafka. Judge for yourself
| which of US two. he or l, has anything to
| forgive. am to-day what was yesterday,
and may be tomorrow. He lies there, dying
of his love for YOU, if ever a man died for
love. And. as though that were not enough,
| you have tortured him-well. | will not
| speak of it. But that is all. l know moth
| ing of the deeds, or intentions. of which
| YOU accuse yourself. You are tired, over
| wrought, worn out with all this-what
shall say! 1t is natural enough, l sup
| pose
| You say there is no question of forgive
ness. she said, interrupting him, but
speaking more calmly. "What is it, them
What is the real question: If you have
nothing to forgive. why can we not be
| friends, as we were before?''
There is something besides that needed.
1t Is not enough that of two people neither
should have injured the other. You have
broken something something
! cannot mend it. | wish l could"
| "You wish you could.'' she repeated,
earnestly.
Il wish that the thing had not been done.
] wish that had not seen what [ saw to-
| day. We should be where we were this
morning-and he, perhaps, would not be
! here
| 1T must have come some day UnorRi
! said. HE must have seen that loved
| that loved YOU. Is there any use in not
| speaking plainly now Then at some other
| time, IN some other place, he would have
| done what he did, and would have been
angry and cruel-for it is my nature to be
| cruel when | am angry, and to be angry
| easily, at that. Men talk SO easily of self
| control, and self-command and dignity and
| self-respectl They have not loved-that is
| all. | am not angry now, nor cruel. | am
| sorry for what l did, and l would undo it, if
deeds were knots and wishes deeds. | am
| sorry, beyond all words to tell you. How
| poor it sounds, now that l have said it
You do not even believe me-
You are wrong. l know that you are in
earnest
How do you know" she asked bitterly
"Have never lied to you. If you believed
me, you would forgive me. If you forgave
| me, your friendship would come back. /
can not even swear to you that l am telling
the truth. Heaven would not be my wit
| ness now if told thousand truths, each
| truer than the last"
Il have nothing to forgive the Wan
derer said, almost YEARLY. 4 have told
you SO, you have not injured me, but him
But If it meant a whole world to me
no, for | am nothing TO you-but if il cost
you nothing but the little breath that can
carry the three wordsworth you say it?
Is it much TO say! Is it like saying, | love
| you, or, | honor you, respect youR 1t is SO
| little, and would mean so much.''
''To me it can mean nothing, unless you
ask me to forgive you deeds of which |
know nothing. And then it means still less
| to me-
'Win you say it, Only say the three
words once
I forgive YOU said the Wanderer,
quietly. 1t cost him nothing, and to him.
meant less.
Unorna bent her head and was silent. It
was something to have heard him say it.
though he could not guess the least of the
sins which she made it include She her
self hardly knew why she had so insisted
Perhaps it was only the longing to hear
words kind in themselves, if not in tome
| not in his meaning of them. Possibly, too
she felt dim presumption of her coming
end, and would take with her that in
figitesimal grain of pardon to the state in
which she hoped for no other forgiveness
1T was good of you to say it, she said
at last.
A long silence followed, during which the
| thoughts Of each went their own way
Suddenly Israel Kafka stirred in his sleep
The Wanderer went quickly forward and
kneit down beside him and arranged the
silken pillow as best he could. Unorna was
an the other side almost as soon. With
tenderness Of expression and touch which
nothing can describe, she moved the Sleep
ing head into comfortable position and
k,smoothed the cushion and drew up the furs
ISturbed by the nervous hands The Wan
dS tSefler have her way When she had
61aisl their eyes met. He could not tell
whetfl> she was asking his approval or a
word orNcouragement, but he withheld
You ar very gentle with him. He
would thar you if he c6t34
Did yO1 not tell me to lind to him2''
she said, 81 am keeping my \prd But he
he We're awake
He was ill and mad with pain, he an
swered. He did not know what he was.
| doing. When he wakes it will be differ
emit
Unorna rose, and the Wanderer followed
her.
You cannot believe that care, she
said, as she resumed her seat. ''He is not
You. My soul would not be the nearer to
peace for word of his
For long time she sat quite still, her
hands lying idly in her lap, her head bent
YEARLY as though she bore a heavy burden
Can you not rest!" the Wanderer asked
at length. Il can watch alone
mo. can not rest. shall never rest
again"
The words came slowly, as though spoken
to herself.
do you bid me go?'' she asked after
time looking up and seeing his eyes fixed
or her.
bid you go3 In your own house," The
tone was one of ordinary courtesy. Unorna
smiled sadly.
Il would rather you struck me than that
you speak to me like that,' she exclaimed.
You have noneed of such civil forbearance
with me. If you bid me go, will CO. If
you bid me stay, will not move. Only
speak frankly. Say which you would pre-
fer
Then stay" said the Wauderer simply.
30 BE CoNTINUED.)
COAL AND PETROLEUM.
Considerable Area of Brown and Coleman
Counties Underlaid With 1t.
SANTA ANNA, TEX, May g. 1891.