The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-04-11


ing thin, and expectation deepened now
with every card Where was the knave of
spades 1t must come soon. Again the
cards went round.
No, not quite. As the last card fell face
upwards on the table thrill went through
the nerves Of the spectators. The two
girls at the window shrank back suddenly,
as if they had been shot. There was the
fatal card at last. The lot had fallen to
Vane himself.
The young man laughed lightly as he
threw down the pack.
"That decides it." he said II 20 first.
You will meet me at the archway in half
an hour from this time; it will then be
dusk, aud we will give ourselves what
chance We can. shall go out alone; the
rest Of you will wait under cover of the
archway, and will rush out the moment
they fire at me. If | fall, two of you must
bring me in-Sanderson and King can do
it. The other four Ihust try to get 4
bucketful of water each-there will be
time for that, | think, though it will be
sharp work. Remember, at the archway,
with all ready, in half an hour.
CHAPTER III.
The men saluted and filed out Vane
was left alone. He turned, and was about
to seat himself at the table, when, to his
surprise, he saw figure standing at the
window of the room. He looked again
and saw that it was Lenora. What could
have brought her there he knew not-the
truth he did not guess. Wondering, he
took a step or two in her direction and
was about to ask her what she wished,
when she came hurriedly forward and stood
beside him.
"St. George" she said, ''you must not
go-you shall not 90. Tell me you will
not; promise me.
As she spoke he thought, for the first
time, of the veranda; she knew what he
was going to do. He would much rather
that she had not known; but he answered
simply: at is my duty, Lenora."
"Duty!" she repeated, with impatience
"Oh, yes-but do not go. Send some one
else; surely there are plenty of men. Do
not 90. St. George" She laid her hand
upon the young mans arm and looked up
into his eyes.
Great is the power of beauty, though it
be the beauty of Delilah. 1t could not
make man like Vane forgetful of his
duty, or shake for more than moment his
natural resolution. But as he looked
down at the lovely lips which tempted
him, he did not turn at once away. And
yet her words Jared on him. He felt no
surprise; he knew Lenora well; but he
would have chosen that the girl to whom
he gave his love, though she might part
from him in agony of mind, would not
have had him shirk his duty in face of
danger. Love might be dearer to her than
life, but honor should be dearer than
either.
He was on the point of speaking, when
there appeared at the window of the room
another figure They both looked up, and
saw it. 1t was Mary Sulland. Her face
was very pale, and as she came forward a
close observer might have seen that she
was trembling But her eyes shone with
strange light, and when she spoke, her
voice, though low, was thrilling in its dis
tinctness. Her first words showed that
she had not overheard, or had not under
stood, what had already passed between
Lenora and St George.
ave know where you are going, she
said, with shining eyes. "Lenora shall not
be alone in bidding you God speed before
You 90. | have come to do so, too" and,
as she spoke, she looked as Spartan
maiden may have looked, when she sent
her lover forth to death or glory.
At the first sound of her voice, Vane
started. Their eyes met, and one might
have Thought that some reflection of the
light in hers had flashed into his own.
Without a word he took her hand and
pressed it to his lips. Then with the same
action of farewell to Lenora he turned
away, reached the door of the apartment,
and was gone.
The whole scene was over almost in
moment Yet scenes as brief have often
been the turning point of lives-and so it
was to be with these.
CHAPTER ".
Lenora, with half hysterical laugh,
turned to the window and went out. Mary
Sulland was left alone, Suddenly she
sank upon chair and burst into such
passion of tears as shook her very frame.
1t is not in the nature of any woman,
however nobly made, however jealous Of
the honor of the man whom she regards,
not to feel, at such a moment, cruel
agony of mind She was alone. The ex-
citement which had sustained her was
already over; and now the hard, plain fact,
without disguise, pressed itself remorse-
lessly upon her soul. Her hero had gone
forth to almost certain death.
Her hero? Yes-he was her hero.
She made no secret of it now, in her own
heart. She loved him we'll Gladly
would she have given her own life for his.
But alas what could she do?
All at once a wild thought struck her
Her cheek famed; the old light kindled in
her eyes. She started to her feet, pale,
eager eyed and trembling ng-trembling now
with new excitement. She seemed like one
possessed by spirit stronger than her own
by an impulse overmastering and resist
less For moment or two she stood
motionless, her eyes cleaning. Then
turning, not to the window, but TO the
door, she hurried from the room.
She went straight to her own chamber.
In few minutes she came out again. She
was now draped in long, close, gray
dressing gown, which completely covered
her own dress. Her tall, slight figure,
thus garmented, looked like nothing so
much as gray ghost-and like ghost in
the failing light of evening she glided out
of her chamber, and passed along the pas
sages and down flight of stairs.
All at once she stopped Some noise
alarmed her. And now she was afraid
afraid, not of what she was about to do,
but of being seen and thwarted in the ex-
ecution of her plan. Presently all being
still, she again stole forward The men
were, for the most part, busy at their posts