Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1893-05-04
CHAPTER VI.
RETRIBCTION.


She went west in due time, Heroes.
tunes were magnificent: they were
black, but comely. At the hotel at
Omaha, Jose came to see her. She sat
on sofa, in her own private room,
to await his coming, attired like a
queen who has sustained domestic
atfliction. At the appointed hour,
Jose sauntered in, large OF limb, free
OF gait. with poetica carlessness
about the front hair and shirt collar.
Maisie rose to meet him, in her sweep
ing black dress, a red rose at her
bosom, and her cheeks like q rose with
expectant pleasure. Jose gave her his
hand. She clasped it in her own, and
thrilled through to the core
Never, the poet thought, had he seen
her look prouder, more lissome,
more beautiful. He paused, and sur
veyed her approvingy from head to
foot. "Well, Maisie," he said, with
unfeigned Joy in her beauty, "you are
a splendid creature, and no mistake;
supple and glorious and warm like a
tiger. How good OF you to come
across all this way to see me. Eve
written you poem, too. I've brought
it here to-day for you"
you've brought me better than u
poem Maisie answered, flushing still
redder with delight, in her imperial
beauty. "IoI've brought me the
poet. You've brought me yourself.
What more could you bring me? And
Jose. now, whatever's mine is yours.
am rich, so are you. You can free
yourself at last from the milst one
round your neck. You can cast off
the encumbrance."
Jose looked down upon her with a
strange smile, fitting lambert about
his lips. He enjoyed this slow playing
her as he would have enjoyed playing
a noble salmon, darting madly down
stream with the hook in it's nostrils
Free myself from the millstone?' he
said airly, after long deep pause.
"And why? And for what? Not sure.
ly to 60 back again, my child, into the
self-same slavery"
A sickening horror came over
N1aisie's soul. What could he mean
by this-her Jose, her poet? Shestead-
led herself by a chair, for she was
still standing in front OF him. Her
heart sank in her breast. "Oh,
Jose" she cried wildly" "what
do you mean? What do you
say? And with me, too! Slavery!"
Jose laid his two big hands on her
shoulders, and pushing her down un-
resisted, seated her in chair. Then
he surveyed her from above with crit.
ical calmness. II like you when you're
gone that way" he said, rolling the
words on his tongue. "The tigress
looks grandest when she fghts-or
despairs. You're as noble a creature
as ever Ilsaw in my life. It's worth
while wounding you. Your death
theories deserve any scIiptor's atten-
ton. That attitude, row-ah, what
grace, what revulsion, what hopeless
ness"
Maisie gazed up at him, appalled,.
In truth and indeed she had met her
fate. She could be heartless in her
small feminine way; but such colossal,
gigantic, egotistic, male heartlessness
as this lay wholly beyond her scope.
She had no strength left, were it only
to speak. She just gasped out family,
in q voice OF incredulous despair,
"But, Jose, do you mean to say you're
not going to marry me""'
The strong man put one hand on
his hip, poised his head on one side,
drew back a pace, still fronting her,
and looked her over steadily.
Beautiful" he said, once more, in q
voice as if entranced; every beautiful
indeed! No painter ever drew, no poet
dreamed lovelier."
She held out her arms to him i'm
ploringy, enticingly. She could hard
ly believe her ears. This was CHASTITY
incredible.
"Oh, JOSE" she cried in an agonized
burst. "would you kill me? Would
you kill me? But you're only in jest!
You do it to try me. You mean in
the end, OF course, to marry me?"
But Jose looked hard at her still
with that cold alarming smile of his.
truly he was right in what he had
said to her At Washington he was the
complement OF her kind, the male of
her species. And the male is always
more terrible still and more deadly
than it's mate, because stronger and
fercer. He watched her throes, all
attention.
"Marry you?" he repeated lowly, in
n deliberate voice. "Ah! marry you?
Marry you? ...... ...... Well, Maisie,
it's bad for a woman to act on her
own responsibility too much, with
ont advice sought beforehand from her
natural affinity, the born lord OF her
being.
The penalty OF failure for her is a
very bitter one-to lose his compan.
ionship for life, which might other.
wise have been hers il she'd acted
more wisely ...... ......You've man.
aged this matter clunsily, my child.