The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-06-02

their benefit were in reality consider
able and were said to be boundless.
These explanations seem necessary in
order to account for the readiness
with which she turned to the convent
when she was in danger, and for the
facilities which were then at once Of
fered her for a stay long or short; as
she would please to make it. Some
OF the suspicious nuns looked
grave when they heard she was under
their roof. others. who had not yet
see her, were filled with curiosity,
others, again, had been attached to
her during the time she had formerly
spent among them. and there were
not lacking those who, disappearing
OF her presence, held their peace, in
the anticipation that the rich and
eccentric lady would, on departing,
present a gift Of value to their order.
UnOrna was familiar with convent
life, and was aware that the benedic-
ton was over and that the hour for
the evening meal was approaching. A
fire had been lighted in her sitting
room, but the air was still very cold,
and she sat wrapped in her furs, as
when she had arrived, leaning back
in a corner of the sofa, her head in
clined forward, and one white hand
resting on the green baize cloth
which covered the table.
she was very tired, and the abso-
Lutte stiffness vas refreshing and re-
storing after the long drawn-out emo
tions of the stormy day. Never in her
short and passionate life, had so
many events been crowded into
the space of a few hours.
Since the morning she had felt
almost everything that her wild. high
strung nature was capable of feeling
love, triumph, failure, humiliation
anger, hate, despair and danger of
sudden death. She was amazed when,
looking back, she remembered that
at noon on that day her life and all its
interests had been stationary at the
point familiar to her during a whole
month, the point that still lay within
the boundaries of hopes kingdom, the
point at which the man she loved had
wounded her by speaking of brother
ly affection and sisterly regard. She
could almost believe, when she
thought of it all, that some one had
done to her as she had done to others,
that she had been cast into a state
Of sleep and been forced against
her will to live through the
storms OF years in the
lethargy of an hour. And yet, de-
spite all, her memory was distinct, her
faculties were awake, her intellect
had lost none of its clearness, even in
the last and worst hour of it all. She
could recall each look on the Wander
er's face, each one of his cold speech,
each information of her own passionate
outpourings. Her strong memory
had retained all, and there was not
the slightest break in the continuity
of her recollectiOns, but there was lit
tie comfort to be derived from the
certainty hat she had not been
dreaming. and that everything had
taken place precisely as she re-
membered it. She would have given
all she possessed, which was much, to
return to the hour of noon on that
same day.
In so far as a very unruly nature
can understand itself. Unorna I'M
derstood the springs of the actions
she regretted and confessed that in
all likelihood she would do again as
she had done at each successive stage.
Indeed. since the last great outbreak
of her heart she realized more than
ever the great proportions which her
love had of late assumed and she saw
that she was indeed ready, as she had
said, to dare everything and risk
everything for the sake of obtaining
the very least show of passion in re-
turn.
For awhile, indeed, the pride of a
woman at once youg, beautiful and
accustomed to authority, had kept her
firm in the determination to be loved
for herself, as she believed she de-
served to be loved; and just so long
as that remained, she had held
her head high, confidently ex.
pecting that the mask of in
difference would soon be shivered,
that the eyes she adored would soften
with warm light. that the hand she
worshipped would tremble suddenly,
as though waking to life within her
own. But that pride was gone, and
from its disappearance there had been
but one step to the most utter degree
dation of soul to which a woman can
descend, and from that again but
step o to a resolution almost
stupid in it's hardened obstinacy. But
as though to show how completely
she was dominated by the man whom
she could not win, even her last de-
termination had yielded under the
slightest pressure from his will. She
had left her house beside him with
the mad resolve never again to be
parted from him, cost what it might,
reputation, fortune, life itself. And
yet 10 minutes had not elapsed before
she found herself alone, trusting to a
mere word of his for the hope of ever
seeing him again.
She comforted herself with the
thought that the Wanderer would