Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-05-03

ever loved. An enchantment greater than
her own was upon her and held her In bonds
she could neither bend nor break.
She was sitting in her own chair now and
he was kneeling before her, holding her
hands and looking up to her. Fer him the
world held nothing else. For him her hair
was black as night, for him the unlike eyes
were dark and fatboniless. for him the heavy
marble hand was light. responsive, delicate;
for him her face was the face OF Beatrice, as
he had last seen it long ago: The years had
passed, indeed, and he had sought her
through many lands, but she had come back
to him the same, in the glory of her youth.
in the strength of her love, in the divinity
Of her dark beauty, his always, through 1t
all. his now, forever.
For long time he did not speak. The
words rose to his lips and failed of utter
ance, as the first mist of early morning is
drawn heavenward to Danish In the rising
sun. The long-drawn breath could have
made no sound of sweeter meaning than the
unspoken speech that rose In the deep gray
eyes. Natures grand organ, touched by
hand divine, can yield no chord more mov-
ing than lovers sigh.
Words came at last, as after the welcome
shower in summers heat the song Of birds
rings through the woods and out across the
fields upon the clear, earth-scented air-words
fresh from their long rest within his heart,
unused in years of loneliness. but unforgot-
ten and familiar still; untarnished jewels
from the inmost depths, rich treasures from
the storehouse Of a deathless faith, diamonds
of truth, rubies of passion, pearls of devo-
tion, studding the golden links of the chain
Of love.
SAT last-at last-at lasti Life of my
life, the day Is come that is not day without
you, and now it will always be day for us
two-day without end, and sun foreverl
And yet. I have seen you always in my
night, just as see you now. As I hold
your dear hands, / have held them-day by
day and year by year-and I have smoothed
that black hair of yours that love, and
kissed those dark eyes OF yours many and
many a thousand times. It has been SO long,
love, so very long! But knew it would
come some day-I knew I should find you,
for you have been always with me-dear-
always and everywhere. The world is all
full of you, for have wandered through 1t
all and taken you with me and made every
place yours with the thought of you and the
love of you and the worship of you. For
me, there is not an ocean nor q sea nor q
river, nor rock, nor sea, nor island, nor
broad continent of earth, that has not
known Beatrice and loved her name.
nedTt Ol NY uedTt, soul VI NY soui
the nights and days without you, the
/ the enjIessness of this little world that hid
you somewhere, the littleness of the whole
| universe without you-how can you ever
know what il has been to me? And so
| it is gone at last-gone as dream of sick
ness in the morning of health, gone as the
blackness of storm-clouds in the sweep Of
the clear west wind, gone as the shadow Of
| evil before the face of an angel of light. And
know it all. see 1t all in your eyes.
You knew was true. and you knew sought
| you and would find you at last-and you
have waited-and there has been no other,
not the thought Of another, not the passing
image Of another between Us. For know
there has not been that. and should have
known it anywhere in all these years, the
| chill of it would have found me, the sharp
| ness of it would have been in my heart-no
matter where, no matter how far-yet say it,
say it once-say that you have loved me,
| too"
"God knows how I have loved you-how
I love you nowP Unorna said, in low,
| unsteady voice.
The light that had been in his face grew
brighter still as che spoke, while she looked
at him, wondering, her head thrown back
| against the high chair, her eyelids wet and
dropping. her lips still parted, her hand In
| his. Small wonder if he had loved her for
| herself, she was so beautiful Small won
| der it would have been If she had taken
Beatrice's place in his heart during those
weeks of close and daily converse. But that
| first great love had left no fertile ground in
! which to plant another seed, no warmth oi
kindness under which the tender shoot
might grow to strength, no room beneath its
| heaven for other branches than its own.
Alone it had stood in majesty as = lordly
tree, straight, tall and ever green, on silent
| mountain top. Alone it had borne the bur
| den of griei's heavy SHOWS unbent, for all
| its Loneliness, it had stood against the raging
! tempest, and, green still, in all its giant
strength of stem and branch, in all its
kingly robe of unwithered foliage, un-
scathed, unshaken, it yet stood - Neither
storm nor lightning, wind nor rain, sun mol
and cast it down that another might grow in
| its place.
Yet this love WAS not for her to whom he
| spoke, and she knew it as she answered
him, though she answered truly. from the
| fullness of her heart. She had cast an en-
ehantment over him unwittngly, and she
was taken in the tolls OF her own magic,
even as she had sworn that she would never
again put forth her powers. She shuddered
as she realized it all. In few short mo-
ments she had felt his kisses and heard his
words, and had been clasped to his heart, as
she had many time rnadly hoped. But in
those moments, too. she had known the
truth of her woman's instinct, when it had
told her that love must be for herself and
for her own sake, or not be love at all.
The falseness, the fathomless truth OF 1t,
would have been bad enough alone. But
the truth that was 50 strong made it horri-
BILE. Had she but inspired in him burn
ing love for herself, however much against
his will. it would have been very different.
She would have heard her name from his
lips, she would have known that all. how.
ever false. however artificial, was Tor her
self, while it might last. To know that il
was real, and not for her, was intolerable.
To see this love of his break out at last
this other love which she had dreaded,
against which she had fought which she
had met with jealousy as strong as itself,
and struggled with and buried under an i'm
posed forgetfulness-to feel its great waves
surging around her and beating up against
her heart, was more than she could bear.
Her face grew whittier and her hands were
cold. She dreaded each moment lest he
should call her Beatrice again. and say that
her fair hair was black and that he loved
those deep, dark eyes of hers.
To be Continued Neat Sunday.1
A GREAT LYRIC ARTIST