The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-11-09
CHAPTER XIV.

It was a walk Of fifteen minutes from
the woods. Half the distance was passed
over without interchanging word.
Once or twice, when the rays OF the
moon pierced through the clouds, LELAND
thought he saw her wipe away tear.
He guided her cautiously in the dark
ness, although the light step OF the
young lady was scarcely slower in the
obscurity.
Her springy step pressed noiselessly
the fallen leaves-av oided without assist
ance the ruts and marshes, as though en-
dowed with O magical clairvoyance.
When .hey reached cross-road and
Leland seemed uncertain. she would lnd,-
cate the way py slight pressure OF the
arm.
Both were no doubt embarrassed by
the long silence-it was Clara who hrst
broke it.
you have been very good this evening.
MIR. Leland" she said, in low and
slightly agitated voice.
@Ah! love you SOL" said the young
MAD.
He pronounced these words in such
deep, impassioned tone that Clara Denton
trembled and stood still in the road.
Mr.. Leland" she exclaimed.
4Well?" he demanded, in strange tone.
Great heavens! What is this? But
but it can bs nothing. must have mis-.
understood youl'
You did not, maasm. But have said
either 90 much or too little. I will en-
deavor to explain the error"
His voice was calm. but she recoiled
step or two and stood trembling before
him. -.
what said just now," he went on, ia
no more nor less than the truth. l love
you-love you as you deserve to be loved,
with all my soul aud might and strength.
never knew what love was before"
Clara stood there trembling, but made
no sign.
But don't fear that I would take nd
vantage of this solitude of Your ionell.
ness. Believe me, you are sacred to me. >"
Il have no fear" she whispered.
"Oh, no! have no fear!" he repeated. in
a tone OF voice infinitely softened and
tender. 1T is I who am afr4id-it is l
who tremble-yo,l OIL see it; for since l have
spoken, all is over. rect nothing moro
Il hope for nothing; this night has no
possible Tomorrow. know It,. Your
husband I dare not be-your lover I should
not wish to be. I ask nothing Of you
understand we'll! I should like to bum
my heat at your feet, as on an altar
this is all.
DO you believe me? Answer! Are
you ca'mp Are you confident? Will You
hear mep May tell you what image l
carry OF you in the secret recesses OF my
heart?
Dear creature that you are, you do not
All. you do not know how great IS your
worth, and fear to tell you. SO much
am I afraid of stripping you OF your
charms, or one of your virtues. If you
had been proud of yourself, as you have a
rght to be, you would be less perfect,
md I should love you leas.
But wish to tell you how lovnble and
how charming you are. You alone do not
know it. You alone do not see the soft
tame of your large eyes-the reflection OF
your heroic soul on your young bu: serene
brow.
Your charm is over everything you do
your slightest gesture is engraven on
me. Into the most ordinary duties OF
every day life you carry peculiar grace,
like q young priestess who recites her
daily devotions. Your hand, yonr touch,
your breath puri6es everyth'ng-esen en- the
most humble and the most wicked beings
and myself first Of all!
.Uh, how I am astonished at the words
which I pronounce, and the sentiments
which animate me, to whom you have
made clear new truths. Yes, all the
rhapsodies of the poets, all the loves OF
the martyrs, I comprehend in your pres
ence. This is truth itself. 1underst md
those who died for their faith by torture
because I should like 10 suffer for you
because I believe in you-because l re.
spect yon-I cherish you-I adore you!"
He stopped, shivering, and huff pros.
trating himself before her, seized the end
of her veil and kissed it.
Now" continued he. with Kind OF
crave sadness. go, Mrs. Denton; l have
Iorgorten tuu iong you require rerose.
Pardon me-proceed. I shall follow
you at q distance, until you reach your
home, to protect you-but fear nothing
from me"
Clara Denton had listened, without
ones interrupting him even by sign.
Words would only excite the young man
more.
Probably she understood, for the first
tiuo in her life, one Of those songs OF
love-one Of those hymns living with pas
sion. which every woman wishes to hear
before she dies. =,
Should she die because she had heard
it,
She remained without speaking, rs
though lust awakening from o dream, and
lot TALL these words, soft and feeble, like
O sigu:
My God!'
After another pause. she advanced
fa,p ctape IN fha road