The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-06-09

pO55iDiiAtJ VI q A6ctlHS
Beatrice and the Wanderer, If Beatrice
remained alive.
There was no escape from the deed.
Beatrice must die. Unorna could pro-
duce death in a form which could
leave no trace, and it would be attri-
buted to a weakness of the heart.
Unorna was sure of herself, and OF
her strength. to perform what she con-
!emplated. There lay the dark beauty
In the corner of the sofa, where she
had sat and talked SO long, and told
her last story, the story of her life
which was.now to end. A few deter
mined words spoken in her ear, a
pressure of the hand upon the brow
and the heart, and she would never
wake again. She would lie there still
until they found her, hour after hour
the pulse growing weaker and
weaker, the delicate hands colder, the
foee more set. At the last there would
be a c%onvulsive shiver Of the ~queenly
form, and that would be the end. The
physicians and the authorities would
come and would speak Of a weakness
OF the heart, and there would be
masses sung for her soul, and she
would rest in peace.
Her soul? In peace? Unorna stood
still. Was that to be all her ven-
geance upon the woman who stood be-
tween her and happiness? Was there
to be nothing but that, nothing but
the painless passing of the pure
young spirit from earth to heaven?
Was no n to suffer for all U~norna's
painp 1t was not enough. There
must be nor than that. And yet,
what more? That was the question.
What imaginable wealth of agony
would be just retribution for her ex-
lstence? Unorna could lead her, as
she had led Israel Kafka, through the
life and death of a martyr, through
a life of wretchedness and a death of
shame, but then, the moment must
come at last, since this was to be
death indeed, and her spotless soul
would be beyond Unorna's reach for
ever. No, that was not enough.
Since she could not be allowed
to live to be tormented, vengeance
must followed her beyond the end of
life.
Unorna stood still. and an awful
light OF evil came into her face. A
thought OF which the enormity would
have terrified a common being had it
entered her mind and taken possession
of it. Beatrice was in her power,
Beatrice should die in mortal sin, and
her soul would be lost forever.
For a long time she did not move,
but stood looking down at the calm
and lovely face of her sleeping
enemy, devising a crime to be i'm
posed upon her for her eternal de-
struction. Unorna was very supersti-
tious, or the hideous scheme could
never have presented itself to her. To
her mind the deed was everything,
whatever it was to be, and the inten-
ton or the Inconsistencies in doing it
could have nothing to do with the con-
sequences to the soul of the doer. She
made 20 theological distinction. Be-
atrice should commit some terrible
crime, and should die in committing
Then she would be lost, and devils
would do in hell the worst torment
which Unorna could not do on earth.
A crime-a robbery, a murder-it
must be done in the convent. Unorna
hesitated, bending her brows and por-
ing, in imagination over her task.
Keyork Arabian! He, indeed, pos
sessed the key to all evil. What
would he have done with Beatrice?
Would he make her rob the church.
murder the abbess in her sleep. Bad,
but not bad enough.
Unorna started. A deed suggested
itself SO hellish, so horrible in its
enormity, so far beyond all conceiv-
able human sin. that for one moment
her brain reeled. She shuddered
again and again, and CROPPED for sup
port and leaned against the wall in a
bodily weakness of terror. For one
moment she, who feared nothing, was
shaken by fear from head to foot, her
FACE turned white, her knees shook,
her sight failed her, her teeth chat
tered. her lips moved Historically.
But she was still strong. The thing
she had sought had come to her sud-
lenly. She set her teeth and thought
Of it again and again, till she could
lace the horror of it without quaking.
Is there any limit to the hardening of
The human heart?
The distant clocks chimed the half
hour, three-quarters past midnight.
Still she waited. AT the stroke OF
| she rose from her seat, and stand
ng beside Beatrice, laid her hand up
IN the dark brow.
A few questions, a few answers fol-
owed. She must be assured herself
hat her victim was in the right state
% execute infinitely all her COM
hands.
She took Beatrice's hand. The dark
woman rose with half-closed eyes and
,et features. Unorna led her out in
% the dark passage.
1T is light here" Unorna said.
You can see your way. But I am
blind. Take my hand-so-and now
cad me to the church by the nuns
'taircase. Make no noise"
Il do not know the Staircase said