Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1892-01-30

, was needed"
Eyes" said Derwent; ''if she had
been a minute later l should not be
walking here with you now"
He looked around, as if with a sudden
sense of how near the peril had been,
and how narrow the chance that he
would ever look again upon the beauty
of earth. Never had that beauty seemed
to touch him more keenly than in con-
nection with this thought. The long
shadows of late afternoon were now
stretching across the grounds through
which he had watched Dona Zarifa walk
ing in the morning, unconscious, as most
of us are when the dark wing of Azrael
most nearly overshadows us, that he
might be looking his last upon that
gracious form: the wide plain stretched
into magical blueness afar to meet the
luminous sky, the distant purple heights
had more mystic charm than ever in
his eyes, and the fresh, delicious air
seemed fraught with blessing. He had
a feeling as if new life were given to
hiln-a life divided from that of yester
day by the gulf of great danger, and a
life which was the gift (after GodD of
Zarifa. 1T is owing to her that 1 am
herel' he thought, after rush of emo
ton, a sense that existence had become
something dearer and more precious for
that fact. She will tell me that she
would have done the same for any one,
and know that she would have done it
for the poorest peon in Mexico. No mat
ter. IL was for me that she did do it.
| Nothing can alter that"
Almost oppressed with these thoughts,
and also with the passionate desire to
express them lin u modified form), he
| sought Dona Zarifa when he entered the
house, but sought her in vain. He had
| by this time learned most of her haunts,
| but in none Ct them was she to be found
| No one had seen her for hours-not
| since, after having done everything
| that it was in her power to do for the
wounded man, she had returned to the
house and gone to her own apartments.
| She was not there, however, when Der
went, waylaying her maid, asked for
| her. mo, the scnorita has gone out"
| Marcella made him understand. II saw
her pass across the court a short time
ago"
| 1t will not say much for Derwent's de-
votional instincts that it was only when
he WAS altogether baked in his desire to
express his gratitude to Zarifa that he
| thought of Offering the same sentiment
to God. Perhaps he would not have
q. nN s,.1,- ~E
taking his way to church for the pur-
pose-had not the atmosphere of Mira
flores begun to tell on him. But he had
a nature readily impressed by all things
beautiful, and most readily by those
which were beautiful in the moral rather
than in the physical order. When he
saw the whole household of Mirahores,
and all those on the hacienda who were
able to do SO, gather every morning in
the beautiful chapel for the most august
of all acts of worship-when he saw all
day long men, women and children pass
ing through its open doors, seizing few
moments from their toll to offer petit
ton, to leave thanksgiving, or simply
to rest soul and body as in the shelter Of
a fathers house-the beauty of it struck
him more than words can express. The
lovely church, with its never dying altar
fame and it's atmosphere of infinite calm,
seemed like the heart of all the busy life
around-a heart ever turned to God, yet
also open ever to man, and full Of holy
thoughts and words as a censer Is Of
fragrance.
Thither, then, he took his way, as the
sun of the day which might have been
his last on earth was slowly sinking be-
hind the western mountains. Crossing
the quiet, cloisterlike court which led to
the church, he entered by the side door
and found himself in the soft, mellow
gloom, with which he was by this time
familiar. AS usual, two or three figures
were kneeling here and there over the
nave; but it was n It until he had been
in the church for several minutes that
he identified one of them as Zarifa. She
was kneeling ON prie-dieu just before
the altar, her bowed head covered and
her form partially concealed by the
black drapery thrown around her. She
seemed absorbed in prayer, and Der
went watched her for some time before
she made the faintest movement. 1t
was not until the dusk had deepened
and the only light in the church was
that of the fickering, golden radiance
from the tabernacle lamps that she
lifted her head and rising glided across
the nave toward the door by which he
had entered. He followed her at once,
and, when she paused for moment un-
der the pointed archway outside, reached
her and spoke.
"Senor Derwent" she exclaimed with
a start. 81 did not know that you were
here"
Gould l be in better placer" he
asked. in voice that trembled q little