The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-05-05

%nb .jupiIapt as his
despair was profound, ran through
her. The enchanter had bound his
heart with his spells at the first
glance, and the wild nature was al
ready on fire. For one instant the
light shot from her eyes. and then
sank again as quickly as it had come.
He was himself deceived and she
knew it. Beatrice might, indeed.
have died long ago. She could not
tell. But a she sought in the re-
cesses of his mind, she saw that he
had no certainty of it, she saw the
black presentiment between him and
the image, for she could see the
image too. She say the rival she al
ready hated, not receiving a vision of
the reality, but perceiving it through
his mind, as it had always appeared
to him.
She is not dead"
Not dead!' Tho Wanderer started,
but fully two seconds after she had
spoken, as Il man struck by a bullet
in battle, in whom the suddenness Of
the shock has destroyed the power of
instantaneous sensation.
She Is not dead. You have
dreamed it, said Unorna, looking at
him steadily.
He pressed his hand to his FORE
head and then moved it, as though
brushing away something that
troubled him.
Come with me. 1 will show her
to you"
"Whither? With you? How can
you bring me to her? What power
have you to lead the living to the
dead!'
''To the living. Come"
Ito the living-yes-I have
dreamed an evil dream-a dream of
death-she is not-no I see it now.
She is not dead. She is only very far
from me, very, very far. And yet it
was this morning-but | was mis-
ness. All, God! 1 thought l knew
her face! What is it that you want
with me?"
He asked the question as though
again suddenly aware of Unorna's
presence. She had lifted her veil,
and her eyes drew his soul into their
mysterious depths.
very cold"
They had been standing where they
had met. AS she spoke, Unorna
looked up with an expression wholly
unlike the one he had seen a few
moments earlier. Her strong will
was suddenly yelled by the most
gentle and womanly manner, and a
little SILVER, real Dr. feigned, passed
over her as she drew the folds of her
fur more closely around her. The
man before her could resist the ag-
gressive manifestation of her power,
but he was far too courteous to refuse
her request.
(Which way?" he asked, quietly.
ITO the river" she answered.
He turned and took her place by her
side. For some moments they walked
on in silence. 1t was already almost
twilight.
So far as he himself was concerned,
he vas in no humor for talking. He
had seen almost everything in the
world, and had read or heard almost
everything that mankind had to say.
The streets of Prague had no novelty
for him, and there was no charm in
the chance acquaintance of a beauti-
full oma to bring words to his lips.
Unorna, for the first time in her
life, felt that she had not full control
of her faculties. She who was always
so calm, so thoroughly mistress of
her own powers, whose, judgment
Keyork Arabian could deceive, but
whose self-possession he could not
present moment both weak and unbal-
anced. Ten minutes earlier, she had
fancied that it would be an easy thing
to fix her eyes on his and to cast the
veil of d half-sleep owe his already
half-dreaming senses. She had fan
cied that it would be enough to say
"come," and that he would follow.
She had formed the bold scheme of
attaching him to herself, by visions
of the woman whom he loved as she
wished to be loved by him. She be-
lieved that if he were once in that
state she could destroy the old love,
forever, or even turn it to hate, at
her will.
There were great blocks of stone in
the desolate place, landed there be-
fore the river had frozen for a great
building whose gloomy, unfinished
mass stood waiting for the warmth of
spring to be completed. She led him
by the hand. passive and obedient as
a child, to a haltered spot and made
him sit down uron one of the stones.
was grow rg dark.