Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-01-18

odors and to hear such tuneful music. A
drcam-like, half mysterious satisfactioi of the
senses dulled the keer self-knowIedge of body
and soul for one short moment. In the stormy
play of his troubled life there was brief inter-
lude of peace. He tasted the fruit of the Lotus.
his lips were mostened in the sweet water of
forgetfulness
not broken, as by a sudden shock, b1; losius
its strong power by quick degrees until it was
wholly gone.
II will answer your question by another"
said the lady. Let your reply be the plain
truth. 1t will be better so"
ASK what you will. Ihave nothing to con.
ceal."
"Do you know who and what am? Do YOU
come here out of curiosity. in the vain hope of
knowing me. having heard of me from others?'
'Assuredly not" A faint flush rose in the
mans pale and noble face. "You have Inv
word" he said, in the tone of one who is sure
of being believed. that have never, to my
knowledge. heard of your existence; that am
ignorant even of your nane-forgive my ignor-
ance-and that Ieutered this house. NOT Know
ing whose it might he, seeking and following
after one foT whom have searched the world,
one dearly loved, long lost long sought"
1T is enough. BE seated. l am Unorna"
"UnornaT repeated the Wanderer, with an
unconscious question in his voice, as though
the name recalled some half-forgotten associa-
tion.
"Unorna-yes. 1 have another name" she
added, with a shade of bitterness ''but it is
hardly mine. Tell me your story. You loved
you lost-you seek-so much Iknow. What
The Wanderer sighed.
You have told in those few words the story
of my life-the unfinished story. A wanderer
1 was born, wanderer l anu. wanderer ]
must ever be, until at last find her whom l
seek. l knew her in a strange land, far from
my birthplace. in city where was known but
10 few, ard loved her. She loved me- too
and that against her fathers will. He would
not have his daughter wed with one not of her
| race; for he himself had taken wife among
strangers and while she was yet alive he had
! Iepented of what he had DONE But would
have overcome his reasons and his arguments
she and 1 could have overcome them to-
gether, for he did not hate me, he bore me 10
1ll-will- We were almost friends when l last
took his hand. Then the hour of destiny came
upon me. The air of that city was treacherous
and deadly. had left her with her father,
and my heart was full OF many things, and
OF words both spoken and unuttered.
fingered upon an ancient bridge that spanned
the river. and the sun went down. Then the
evil fever OF the South laid hold upon me
and poisoned the blood in my veins
and stole the consciousness from my under
standing. Weeks passed away, and memory
returned with the strength to speak. learned
that she L loved and her father were gone, and
none knew whittier. rose and left the accursed
city, being at that time scarcely able to stand
! upright on my feet. Finding no trace of those
! l sought, journeyed to their own country, TOR
knew where her father held his lands. had
| been i'll many weeks, and much time had
passed from the day Oh which l had left her
until was able To move from my bed. When
reached the gate CT her home / was told that
others now dwelt within the walls. inquired
Of these new owners of the land. but neither
they nor any of all those whom l Questioned
could tell me whittier should direct my search.
| The father was q strange man, loving travel
| and change Of movement, restless and unsatis-
fed with the world, rich and free to make his
! own caprice his guide through life: reticent lie
was, moreover, and thoughtful, not given to
| speaking out his intentions. Those who admin
istered his affairs in his absence were
honorable men, bound by his especial I'M junction
| not to reveal his ever-varying plans Many
| times. in my ceaseless search, Lmet persons
who had lately seen him and bis daughter and
| spoken with them. was ever on their track
| from hemisphere to hemisphere, from CONT.
| nent to continent from country to country,
| from city to city, often believing myself close
| upon them, often learning suddenly that an
ocean lay between them and me. Was he
eluding ME, purposely, resolutely, or was he un-
| conscious of my desperate pursuit, being
| served by chance alone and by his own restless
temper? do not Know AT last some one
| told me that she was dead, speaking thought
| lessly, not knowing that / loved her. He who
| told me had heard the pews from another. who
had received it on hearsay from third. None
knew in what place her spirit had parted; none
knew by what manner of sickness she had died.
| Since then have heard Others say that she is
not dead. that they have heard In their turn
| from others that she ye; lives. An hour ago
knew not what to think. To-day saw her in a
crowded church. I'hcard her voice, though I
could not reach her in the throng, strug-
| in haste. lost her at one turning,
I saw her before me nc the next At last Q
| figure, clothed as she had been clothed, entered
| your house, Whether 1t was she know not
| certainly, but do know that in the church /
| saw her. She cannot be within your dwelling,
| without your knovledge; IL she be here-ihen
| have found her. my journey 10 ended. my
wanderings have led me home at last IL she
be not here, II have been mistaken. entreat
| you TO let me set eyes on the other whom mis-.