The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-12-18

closely, and -" as she put up her hands as
il to stay him In fear of what he had TO say
all her lately subdued dread OF evil spring.
ing up again in her heart; lit must be told
| at once"
'You meant is to do with-Leo."
81 do mean Mr. Forester"
The news is-badp
That is for you to judge"
tfXou knoz-p
IAN. You wonder howl I. was in the
house that night, and, like you, saw the
murder committed"
Impossible, :" faltered Nellie, whose soul
revolted from that one word murder }" so
that she shrank as from a blow from his
handwriting which, as he did, the ebb and
tiow OF blood in her fair face, telling OF the
pain already at her heart, the horrible pun
ishment, from which no power Of his could
free him-but rather urge him on, as well
already began.
And so be went on.
"Why should pretend to such knowl-
edge unless l can prove itl How else should
l know your secret. how else" the
words came out one by one, ike drops Of
molten lead from boiling cauldron, for
the mask had for once slipped from his
face, the look OF fear upon it horrible to
see; and a strange contrast TO his part in
the scene In progress. How else could
| hope to turn it to the account doF
Turn it to sccouutp
| In her helplessness the girl could only
echo what he said-though mad she tried to
find any clue to the mystery, much less the
true one, she must of course have utterly
failed.
Not even a moments pause was allowed
the wretched man. he must get on with
! bis task with all speed.
"Yes-to my account IL has done so al>
| ready, in part, IL has stopped for me your
| marriage to another man; it shall and will
do the rest-give you to me as my wife"
"Your wife, II Are you mad"
| "No, but you will be if you SO much as
try to thwart me by one straw; You have
vowed to tighten your lovers burden of
| guilt, it but an ounce. You must save him
| the most extreme penalty of his sin. Only
as my wife will his secret, and he, be safe
for-I-love-you."
His eyes of fire had never left her face
while he had spoken. He knew, therefore,
| every whit Of the effect upon her OF what
he did, most of all. though he struggled
with all his heart and soul TO turn his gaze
away, Of that last sci tence, and all its mean
| ing to her.
For not perhaps quite consciously, she
| did not, after the first moment, doubt the
| truth-the application OF the more than
unexpressed wild story. She did not doubt
| the love which was blasting her ife-to her
that very blasting was the most substantial
| proof, il in the need any were needed; but
she would not have been mortal, il despite
| all the vowlng TO her lovers cause, even to
the utmost she had at once so bowed. as she
| yet knew perfectly she must do IN the end.
It is needless to chronicle this fight-it was
so utterly helpless and hopeless from the
first.
How could it be other wise? though the
! weapon of that master of evil was but that
one plea: Il love you"
1t was unanSwerable.
And yet knowing 1t, assured beforehand
of his victory. with each repetition the
dread of what he did grew more AMI mora
great upon the wretched wooer, 80 that at
the last, when the way was won, 1t was the
girl who was stronR-ay, almost JubilRnt in
her victory over self. her vanquisher who
could scarce keep mind and body together
sufficiently to play out his part TO the end.
Almost. indeed be forgot the most impor-
tant item IN his plans, the measure for at
once making fast the bonds which made the
thing that her father. even combined in
force with her lover, might do.
1t was she, who, in the completeness OF
her self sacrifice, called the need to his
mind, led the way as it were in the flight
which must be on the Instant to insure the
price to be paid being sufficient.
Itseemed then that once again, and to the
last need, chance had favored the evil to the
| full-the good to be cast aside, trampled
undertook
Ah-seemed only!
A moment more and the balance would
| forever have been set upon the side OF vii.
| lainy indeed. A moment only, for as the
| little blind girl took the first step which
should take her from her fathers house-
| from safsty-for ever, the scale suddenly
| shifted, at first beneath q feathers weight
only; but who was to know what In the
end might be the weighing down.
Ralph Royal, twice murderer, and a
hundred times, and this once plotter against
all peace aud right, knew to the full what
might be; but because of that one fair
flower OF love grown up amidst the many
dark, dark flowers OF evil In his mind, in
this his greatest need, and desire of all, be
could not so much as lift finger, much less
raise one of his other and more fendlst
weapons to defend the prize he had won
nor even in self-dofence.
The end came sHiftly-the storm short
and sharp, as e tempest ever is which ii
long agathering.
It was Leo who stood this time in the patti
of his bride-his no longer.
At one glance he who had been SO help
lessly, hopelessly blind till now, saw, OF
thought he saw, all the whole plot of the
man who had pretended to be his friend.
He never doubted but that his flight wal
but half the price of the safety OF the littl,
blind girls unhappy father, that the othe
half his child was about to pay.
He did not remember that the same pric,
would be on his own safety. His restored
sense of innocence was too great for that.
And SO, in his mad dazed way, he saw be
fore him embodied the one spur needed Il
complete his lf-saorifice-the balancing O
the little girls love to her fathers side
To what end then was he there at all7
That was TO be seen.
What could he say OF do?
Nothing-absolutely nothing.
Words were useless-they would have diet
an his lips. Not foot, nor a hand, so mucl
as a finger. could he stir, thou III every
nerve in his body was strained in his desir
to seize the slight form of his little love Il
his arms and bear her away to the othe
!; end of the earth, if need be; to hold her in
hold which should defy even death itself.
But though he stood thus, as it were
turned to stone. by one of those strange IN
stincts of blindness, the girl was not onl,
aware of his presence, but to the full under
stood how it was with him, though, o
course, unaware Of the true cause.
And she, too, said nothing, though it wa
: no lack of words nor the will to speak whic
l prevented her.
, lt was an almost more than mortal effor
: which kept her silent.
was the "a var4a Nth bar y-aOa rda ~,