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

fashion as though he were initiating
a soldier on parade.
lin the first place" he said, lin
order to appreciate my skill, you
should realize the immense disad-
vantages under which I labor. | am
a dwarf, my dear Unorna. In the
presence of that kingly wreck OF a
Homeric man. - he pointed to the
sleeper beside them = II am a Their
sites. if not a pigmy. TO have much
chance Of success. | should ask
you to close your eyes, and
TO imagine that my stat
ire matches my voice. That gift at
least l 1atter myself, would have
been appreciated on the plains OF
Troy. But in other respects L re-
semble neither the long-haired Greeks
DOR the trousered Trojans. | am old
and hi1eous, and in outward appear
ance l am as like Socrates as in in
ward disposition / am totally different
from him. Admit. since | admit it,
that | am the ugliest and smallest
man of your acquaintance"
ut is not to be denied" said
Unorna," with a smile.
1.-The admission will make the per-
formance so much the more interest
ing. And now, as the conjnrer says
when he begins, observe that there is
no deception. That is the figure of
speech called lying, because there is
to be nothing but deception from begin
ming to end. Did you ever consider
the nature Of a lie. Unorna? 1t is a
very interesting subject"
Il thought you were going to make
love to me-"
True; how easily one forgets
these little things! Can there be any
thing more contemplate, more laugha-
BILE, more utterly or hopelessly absurd
than an old and ugly man declaring
his unrequited passion for a woman
who might be his granddaughter"
very like said Unorna with a
laugh.
And yet-my evening star-dear
star of my fast sinking evening-gol-
den UnOrna-shall | be cut off from
love because my years are many? Or
rather, shall | not love you the more,
because the years that are left are
few and scantily blessed? May not
your dawn blend with my sunset and
make together one short day."
THAT is very pretty" said Unorna,
thoughtfully. He had the power OF
making his speech sound like a deep,
soft music.
'For what is love?" he asked. '.Is
it a garment, a jewel, a fanciful orna-
ment which only boys and girls may
wear upon a summers holiday? Is
love beauty? Is love youth? Is love
yellow hair, or black? Is love the
rose upon the lip or the peach bios
som in the cheek that only the young
may call it theirs? If that is love. if
that is the idol of your shrine, the
vision OF your dreams, the familiar
genius of your earthly paradise, why
then, indeed, he who worships by
your side. and who would share the
habitation of your happiness, must
wear Absalom's anointed curls and
walk with Agag's delicate step. What
matter if he be foolish, f~aithless, for
getful, inconstant, changeable as the
tide of the sea? He is young"
Good, :" she said. You tell me
what love is not, but you do not tell
me what it is"
Love ]. the immortal essence of
mortal passion; together they are as
soul and body, one being; separate
them, and the body without the soul is
a monster; the soul without the body
is no longer human, nor earthly, nor
real to US at all, though still divine.
Love stands at the gateway of each
human soul, holding in his hands q
rose and a drawn Sword-the sword is
for the many, the rose is for the one"
s'Have you ever loved that you
should talk like thatP" She asked.
He turned upon her almost ferceIy.
Loved? Yes, as you can never
love; as you, in your woman's heart,
can dream of loving-with
every thought, with every fibre, with
every pulse, with every breath: with
a love that is burning the old oak
through and through, root and
branch, core and knot, to feathery
ashes hat you may scatter with a
sigh-the only sigh you will ever
breathe for me. Unorna Have l loved?
Can | love? Do l love to-day as l
loved yesterday and shall love to-
morrow? All, child! That you should
ask that, with your angels face. when
l am in hell for you! When l would
give my body to death and my soul to
darkness for a touch Of your hand. for
as much kindness and ~gentleness in a
word from your dear lips as you give
the beggars in the street,
When / would tear out my
heart with my hands to feed the very
dog that fawns upon you-and who is
o to you than l, because he is
yours, and all that is yours | love,
and worship, and adore."
''Keyork Arabian, is it possible
that you love mep' she cried in her
| wonder,