Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1894-05-10
CHAPTER vII-(Continued.)

my DEAR" answered Everard, "if
you had deceived me and 1 had for
given you, that might have been gener-
Gus; but 1t is not you yourself who have
caused me those weeks Of agony-I
know that. The shortest md best way
= to let by-gones be by-gones and
make a fresh start"
'Thnt is not possible" she answered,
shaking her head; 'tat least 1t is not
possible for me. 1t is for you; and 1t
u what / want you TO do. Oh, why
don't you despise me? Why don't you
hate met i should if ! were In your
place."
II don't think you would said Ev-
erard, TRANQUILITY. Il love you, and ]
know that you love me. More than
that / don't ask, or eve care very
much to know. Nothing else is of any
real consequence"
slow good you are.." cried the girl.
suddenly Selling his hand and pressing
1t to her lips. II do love you! Oh,
can't we escape? Can't you take me
away somewhere and save me?'
"Why, Of course L cam" answered
Everard, folding her in his rms. MY
darling, YOU belong to me and no one
else in the world. If any one else
thinks he can get possession Of you, let
him come and try, that's ALL"
But she wrenched herself away from
him with a revulsion of feeling as
abrupt as the last. mo, nor she ex-
claimed, lit can't be! 1t is madness to
dream Of it. He would kill you!"
Good heavens, what ~nonsense!"
calculated Everard. "How am l to
convince you that this is the most alb
mrd hallucination? AS If 1 should
stand still to be killed! and as IL a man
who uttered such empty threats were
I'm the least likely to carry them out"
"Ah! she sighed, you don't know
what he is; you have never seen him
angry. Before we left London he swore
to me that he would kill you :ather
than that / should ever be your wife;
and / know he meant it; it was 10
empty threat"
"Was it because he said that that you
scft LoIdonT'
Yes, partly-or, rather, no; I don't
vpnt sou to think better of me than l
deserve, / went away because-becaIse
Y had to do as he told me. When !
wrote to you I thought I might sat ,ly
promise TO reriTfn unmarried ell my
i.fe; but eve In that / overrated my
strength. I can't resist him. Ard I
did not know then that beloved me-"
II dent for one moment believe that
he does" returned Everard: "and IL he
Gid, would that make any differan .e?'
II suppose IL would she answered,
slowly. 'Can you understand that one
may loathe a person and yet feel that
his wishes must be in a sort of way
ane'S w wisheS?"
II am not sure that I can"
"No; to you it is only an hysterical
fancy; but to me 1t is as real as any
feel; I can only tell you that 30 1t is"
You die not feel so a moment ago"
Because for a moment I forgot.
Don't try to make me forget again;
1t would be useless and-and cruel"
She had been speaking in a calm,
&sspairing sort Of fashion, but now her
ann became more excited. Don't
sou see," she went on, what would
happen IL we were married? Don't
you see that he would follow us wher-
ever we went, and that, even If he
spared your life, he would not spare
me? 1t Is horrible to think Of 1t; but
Y was obliged to think of il, and l vas
obliged to acknowledge to myself that
ne might make me leave you and go to
him. After admitting that, / could
only admit that l had better be his
wife. Perhaps I shall not live long;
ut any rate, / shall not bring misery
and disgrace upon you. There! now
you know it ALL"
"And now that l know it all, what
do you wish me to dor asked Ever
ard.
There is but one thing that you
can do; you must go away and leave
me to my fate. / hope-I pay that 1
ray never see you again after this!
Not because I don't love you. God
knows! but because our meeting could
only bring you unhappiness. Poor
Aunt Sarah meant to be kind when she
wrote to you; but IL was no kindness,
really, and I'm afraid your having
come here viii make 1t harder FOR you
TO forget. / should like TO tell you how
grateful I am to you, and how very,
very sorry 1t makes me to think that
L have caused you suffering; but it Is
best to say no more. Please 20 low."
Everard knelt down beside the chair
into which she had sunk. Laura" he
said, gently, II have listened to you:
win ycu listen for a minute to me?
Perhaps your feelings are n little be-
ycnd my comprehension, but certainly
mine can be understood easily enough.
DO you think that l, or any man that
loved you,c could be capable Of leaving
you TO your fateY Admitting, for the
sake of argument, that such Il risk rs
you speak Of exists, do You thiak that
i would not a thousand times rather
run it than turn my back upon you
when you most need help, and tameiy
give up all hat makes life worth hay
ing to myself? Isn't it self-evident that
no human being could act n that
way p
But 1t is not the only riskt" cried
Laura. 1T is one risk, and n very ter.
rible one, / think, but 1t isn't the only
one. You won't believe that your life
would be in danger; but. indeed. in
deed ii would. Yes. and ii is in danger
even now. He might come in at any
moment, and if he found you here
"IIe most assuredly will find HE
here" observed Everard, smiling, for