The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1894-11-17

love her-and kill her if she will not
listen? Helen, I must hold you in my
arms and tell You so! How furious
she would be-or-would she be kind?
l wonder if sne cares?"
The chestnut, with the bride slack
upon his neck, turned slowly from the
beaten road and trod upon the short
brown turf. The hill grew sleeper
and more uneven beneath his hoofs
and the sun became a tint more ruddy.
ibid she think that / vas playing q
game with her heart-as she played
with mine? I would not wrong her so
Il love her-I could not wrong her-I
could not play a false game with Helen.
How gloriously beautiful SIZE was
when she Knocked my pain to-day. And
that wonderful feck Of light in her
brown eyes; one looks, and looks. and
never fathoms it. Yes, l will go to her
tonight and force her to listen-and
to yield"
Still the chestnut strobe on, his
shoulders strained to the work, his
glossy neck reeking from his efforts,
his hoofs sliding yer the dry, slip
perry turf as he neared the summit of
the Tor. Then they rested, and the
nan sat easily in his saddle and looked
away at the sunset. The sky was a
glorious picture of golden shores and
fiery waters, of fame-edged cliffs and
purple islets; it was magniicence--it
was splendor: and the passion of the
mans love surged within him; and he
sat and gazed and stirred not, and
thought no thought at all. while many
moments passed.
Then the fierceness of the sky passed
gradually from it, the burning sea
stretched out in peaceful puppies, the
golden shores grew soft and tawny, a
dimness fell on everything; from the
valley below anne the call of a farm
boy to his cattle; the air grew cool
and dewy, and On the mind of the man
there fell a strange peace, and his
thoughts came slowly.
What would it mean if 1 did all
that? 1 should be a villain. If she
loved me she would trust me. She
does not wan me, and, even if she did,
there is Margaret. My God! The
wrong would be to Margaret! How
little 1 thought of that. Poor little
Margeret-loviDg little girl!r'
The chestnut shifted his hoofs and
shook his head by way of variety. The
sunset had vanished, all but a delicate
afterglow which family flushed the
sky.
Ia man-with nc more strength
fb.n fhof - o,efin- Aaeh ord blood
of which heroes are made-with no
courage to fight a passion and keep
true to a promised wife. Little Mar
g~aret-please God she will never learn
of this. Tomorrow 1 will go back to
her"
But from a crag hard by there arose
suddenly q swift. shrieking night-bird,
and the mans plans were slain at their
birth
With a wailing note the bird struck
the air with its wings and wheeled up
wards to the sky. The chestnut
started, swerved, reared, then tore
across the turf as if q very fiend chung
at his launches. The man strove to
grasp the slackened bride and curb
the creatures pace. but this latter was
impossible: the turf was slippery
beneath his hoofs, the light was dim
and treacherous. powders were thickly
all round about the summit of
the Tor, yet snorting, straining,
terrified, the horse flew on,
on towards the sheer, precipitous
ground on the other side.
Then did the mans thoughts course
through his brain with the swiftness
of a mill-race. 81 am going to be
In a small number of moments
1 shall be lifeless. 1 can never hold
him in-the DEVILS jump-it must be
What will death be like. 1 Won
der? How sudden it all is am to
die-I am to die now"
There came a crash, a stumble, the
struck his hoof on the slant
ing side of a bowlder. fell forward,
over, OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES!
my mother-will they yer know1