Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-04-26

OF the deeds, or intentions, of which you
accuse yourself. You are tired, overweight
| worn out with all this-what shall say? i
is natural enough, suppose"
"You say there is no question of forgive
ness" she ,aid, interrupting him, but speak.
ing more. calmly. "What is it, then? What
is the real question? If you have nothing
to forgive. why can We not be friends, as We
were beiore?"
'There is something besides thas needed
1t is not enough that Of two people neither
broken something-destroyed something-l
cannot mend it. wish could"
You wish you could?" she repeated,
earnestly.
II wish that the thing had not been done.
I wish that had not seen what I saw to-
day. We should be where we were this
morning-and he, perhaps, would not be
here"
SIT must have come some day." Unorna
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 I would have been
angry and cruel-for it is my nature to be
cruel when 1 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 I am
sorry Tor what 1 did, and would undo it,
| if deeds were knots and wishes deeds, am
sorry. beynd all words to tell you. How
poor it sounds, now that have said it'll You
| 90 not even believe me"
you are wrong. know that you are in
earnest"
"How do you know ?" she asked bitterly.
1J LII
! me, you would forgive me. If you forgave
me, your friendship would come back.
cannot even swear to you that am telling
the truth. Heaven would not be my wit
ness now if I told u thousand truths, each
truer than the last"
II have nothing to forgive" the Wan
derer said, almost wearily. 81 have told
you so, you have not injured me- bnt him."
"But ii it meant a whole world TO me
no, for am nothing to you-but if it 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, hono- you, respect you? 1t is SO
little, and would mean so much"
ITO 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-"
"Will you say it7 Only say the three
words once"
II 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 il,
though he could not guess the least of the
sins which she made it include. She herself
hardly knew WHY she had so insisted. Per-
haps it was only the longing to hear words
kind in themselves, if not in tone, not in his
meaning of them. Possibly, too, she ielt
dim presumption of her coming end, and
would take with her that infnitesimal 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. Sud-
denly Israel Kafka stirred in his sleep. The
Wanderer went quickly forward and knelt
down beside him and arranged the silken
pillow as best he could. Unorna was on the
other side almost as soon. With q tender
ness of expression and touch which nothing
can describe, she moved the sleeping head
into comfortable position, and smoothed
the cushion, aud drew up the furs disturbed
by the nervous hands. The Wsnderer let
her have her way. When she had finished,
their eyes met. He could not tell whether
she was asking his approval and a. word Of
encouragement, but he withheld neither.
you are very gentle with him. He
would thank you if he could"
'Did you not tell me to be kind to him?"
she said. II am keeping nv word. But
he would not thank me. He would kill me
if he were awake"
The Wanderer shook his head.
uHa i'll opd ,,od rr;th r,I- -
swered- He did not know what he was
doing. When he wakes it will bs differ
emit"
Unorna rose, and the wanderer follow cd
her.
"You cannot believe that I care" she
said, as she resumed her seat. HE is not
you. My soul would not be the nearer to
peace for a word of his"
For long time she sat quite still. her
hands lying idlsin her lap, her head bent
YEARLY as though shsSbore heavy burden.
"Can you not rest?" the Wanderer asked
At length. II can watch alone"
mo: cannot rest I shall never rest
again"
The words came slowly, as though spoken
to herself
'eDo you bid me go?' she asked after 4
time, looking up and seeing his eyes fixed
on her.
IBID you go7 In your own bouse7'' The
tone was one OF ordinary courtesy. Unorna
smiled sadly.
II would rather you struck me than that
you speak to me like thatr' she exclaimed,
"You have no need Of such civil forbear.
ance with me. II you bid me 20, 1 will 20.
If you bid me stay, will not move. Only
speak frankly. Say which you would pre-
fer"
''Then stay" said the Wanderer simply.
10 be Continued Nerf Sttndnn