The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1892-06-03
.Rerod. She eriad. ..what is the matter ?

''Herod, " she cried. what is the matter?
Do you know her?"
know herp' he repeated. "Nhy, the
whole world knows her! She is a noted ad.
ventures! You were IN ignorance Of TINS
he sternly questioned, looking at the glrl S
sweet face, from which the color had tled.
"0h, yes, yes! She deserted US soon alter
nv fathers death, but have never known
the full extent of her disgrace ana mine
until now. II Paul knew he did not tel
me- Dearest she went on, pleadlngy,
you are not angry? ] am stu the same
Dorothy whom you love- Oh, HerodF her
breath coming in quick, sharp sobs, Speak
to me. Tell me that her sins cannot teucn
our happinessp
But Hcrod was silent He had laid his
head on his folded arms which rested on
table His brain was whlTllng around, and
he felt that he must think before speaking.
This discovery had shocked him greatly
Dorothy, his pure, white lily, to spring from
that mire-to bear stained name. Aud
vet he could not give her his own; he could
not bear the sc0rn OF his aristOcTatic FAM
ily-the Teproach that the daughter OF an
adventures bore the old and h0nOred name
of Rodman.
Not one doubt Of Dorothy's innate purity
crossed his mind. Even though that
creatures blood was in her veins there was
no faint OF il in her heart. OF that he was
certain. To give her up was torture; but
fostered in him, and now his love could not
eIbalance ii. He must not marry her
Fate, so he selfshly reasoned with himself,
had willed it so.
lie arose slowly and looked at Dorothy,
who stood with bowed head, as though the
weight of her sorrow and shame was more
than she could bear. HerOd caught her in
his arms and rained despairing kisses on
her face.
"Oh. Dorothy, my darling, my sweet
hearth he murmured, Il love you dearly,
but we must part. Heaven has been very
By, my love-gOOd- by. forever"
Fearing to trust himself longer in her
presence, he pressed a last long kiss on her
cold lips, and quickly left The room.
Dorothy stood looking after him. a sick
ening sense Of what might have been, a
deSpairing realization OF what never could
be, seized her. She felt passionate anger
against her mother But for her sins,
HerOd and happiness unbOunded would
have been hers. She did not blame him.
Despite her ineXperience, she acknOw ledged
that he had done what was best FOR the
proud family from which he sprang, the
honor Of which he had no right 10 sully.
She found hundred excuses for the man
she loved; but her mother
g can never forgive her," she thought,
never! Even If when dying she implored
my pardon, could not grant it.. She has
robbed me OF everything, my name, ana
now my love. l am so young and life is SO
lOngw
She gazed YEARLY through the window
and watched HeTod hurTying down the
path. each step taking him farther away
from her. The click OF the gate sounded
like a death knel. And Her0d ROdman
came into Dorothy'S life never again.
In a hospital ward, tossing on a narrow
bed. a woman lay and in her once hand
some face, despite the marks of sin, there
was a strange resemblance to the nurse
who ministered to her in her dying hour.
The fresh spring wind dTifted through the
open window, laden with the promise OF
summer; but 70 the dying woman it brought
memories CT the past, of the days wnen she
was young and pure and her future as full
of promise as the breeze. Repentance came
too late now; the sands of her life were run
and its strife and passions over.
She writhed with pain, and turned her
eyes with an implOring look 10 the nurse.
Dorothy" she gasped, Il am sorry!
Won't you kiss NE and say Mother for
give your"
Her voice died away, but her eyes were
full Of mute pleading The hand of death
was already upon her. its icy touch fast
stilling her heart, and Dorothy pressed
kiss on the diving liUS and said;
Mother, l forgive you as freely as l
hope TO be forgiven"