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

from emotion. ~ came mere TO JnanA
God for my escape from sudden and
violent death. And, having thanked
God, senorita, will you now let me thank
you? Thank you! All, what word
that is to express such debt! If could
only utter what / feel-if there were
only words in which might venture TO
utter itr'
She lifted one hand with a slight, ST.
lencing gesture as she turned her face
toward him. There was still light
enough from the blue sky overarching
the court to show him that it looked like
pale, beautiful cameo in the setting of
the soft, black drapery of China Grape
which surrounded it. Yet, beautiful as
1t looked, Derwent was almost shocked
| to see what change the last few hours
had wrought. 1t was not only the pal
lor of the skin and the purple shadows.
under the eyes-those shadows which
come so quickly in sensitive organiza-
tion from illness or mental pain-but
the very features looked chiseled and at
tenuated, as if by suffering.
''Do not thank me, senor," she said,
with grave gentleness. "Thank God if
you will, and as you truly should, that
was there in time. But how could
have helped doing what l did? 1t was
no merit on my part. saw and fired.
The two things were simultaneous.
! There was not an instant to be lost. l
stepped down upon that path-ah, how
| Enhf Iut- nd
instinct caused me to glance up at the
hillside. The rest was like flash of
| lightning. l saw the sunshine reflected
on the barrel of that gun, saw the man
leaning over the rock and taking aim at
you so intently that he did not perceive
me. To see was to act. / had still in
the pocket of my habit the little pistol
we used yesterday, and do you think it
was an accident that had not taken off
that habiti l felt one thrill of passionate
indignation as l saw you sitting so
quietly, so unsuspiciously and that cow
ard drawing his gun upon you behind
your back on the very soil of Mirafores!'
he saw the flash that came into her
eyes at the recollection. 81 fired, and
was glad to see him drop. Yes; could
not have believed it if / had been told of
it beforehand, but was glad! The hor-
ror of what had been forced to do did
not come over me until l saw the poor
creature bleeding to death. Then-oh,
then it was awful do not think 1
can ever forget the sightr'
| AS she lifted one hand, with an invol-
untary gesture, to her eyes, as if to shut
out the memory, he took the other and
kissed 1.-THE hand that had saved his
life-so gently and so reverently that it
was like offering homage.
"What can say?" he exclaimed. "To
spare you such pain 1 would have done
anything. Would to God l had never
come to Mirahores, since my coming
was to cost you what you have suffered
today"
She withdrew her hand and looked at
him with very sweet and pathetic re-
/ gard. you must not think that" she
said. II should be very sorry if you be-
lieved that l regretted it. How could
that he possible? 1t was a great privi-
lege to be allowed to interpose to save
the innocent from the guilty. But that
I am little unnerved is surely natural.
| The peril was so awfully near. In an
other instant it would have been you
who lay bleeding, dying, before me.
The piteous sight of the other helps me
to realize that. And then, while thank
God that it was spared, the picture of
the poor wretch yonder in the hospital
comes before me, and shudder at the
thought that he is suffering, that he will
die from wound inflicted by my hand. "
He saw that she was indeed thorough
ly unnerved. Something in the tragedy
had certainly stirred her nature to its
depths. The fire that he had suspected
was there; he had seen it blazing in her
eyes as she stood with the uplifted
weapon that had struck the destroyer
down, but how soon 1t was quenched by
gentlest pity and divinist compassion!
His heart melted within him in the stress
of his love and sympathy. Yet what
could he say or dor Never had he felt
more keenly how wide were the barriers
between them than as they stood alone
together in the soft twilight and the
cloistral quiet.
81 feel for you more than can or
dare express" he said. 81 understand
what shock it is to have had such a
necessity laid upon you, and to have
seen the result with your own eyes. 1t
rs vain to repeat that would have done
anything-anything whatever-to spare
you. But we were both powerless; it
was the work of fate"-
mo" she interposed, sit was the
mercy Of God that sent me there and
placed the duty before me. That being
so, what reason have for regret? None;
believe me, none. If l shudder at the
memory of what have seen, l am never
theless very grateful-grateful beyond
measure-to have been allowed to save
your life."
He longed to take and kiss her hand
again, as she said those words with the
most earnest emphasis; but never could
he less have dared anything that savored