Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1894-04-18

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sionately.
"You can and you WILL" she replied.
There was bright spark in her eye. The
other features of her face indicated only
sympathy, kindness.
"Good-by," faltered.
"Rather say adieu," she said softly.
She took my hand and pressed it kindly,
so kindly that it almost seemed that her
regret was not entirely on my account.
81 shall have word to say to you before
you CO." she added. MAY see you here
tomorrow evening, when the moon rises?"
sBetter go at once" replied bitterly.
''Shall see your she repeated.
bowed silent assent.
The interval between this parting and
the next evening, on which was to be
accorded one more interview, seemed in
terminable. believed her decision to
be irrevocable; but what lover will not
hope SO long as there is desire? Still I
wished it all over and l steaming on a
train-anywhere to get away from her
who 1 had suddenly discovered was to
embitter my life. As the hour of our
meeting approached paced the porch,
walking, chatting, waiting for-the moon.
had consulted the almanac and set my
watch carefully. Nevertheless it seemed
on this evening that all astronomical cal
culations were in error. The time would
not go, or SO slowly that whenever l ex-
amined my timepiece the hands seemed
scarcely to have moved. At last there
was Frightening of the heavens, but
ali! how slow! 1t gathered and deepened
and grew until, far out on the dark ocean,
a tiny wave leaping higher than it's fell
lows caught spark of gilt. Soon others
were touched by the gliding moon, and
at last broken stream of light shot from
the rising orb to the shore. When the
moon stood full out on the horizon Iheard
a step behind me. turned. 1t was Edith
Ward.
She was clad in the light drapery of
midsummer. The moonlight fell on her
advancing figure, softening the gauzy
folds of her dress and blending them
with the environing shadow. She was
to me human appaIition; substantial
yet unsubstantial, spiritual loneliness in
human beauty. Why was she not less
beautiful or less conscientious?
AS she approached my eye was caught
by flash of something, evidently me-
tallic, where lace handkerchief crossed
her bosom. was led by some unac-
countable attraction to fasten my gaze
on this object, which knew had not
seen before, and which, as she drew
nearer, shaped itself more distinctly. In
another moment it flashed upon me
what it was.
And what was it? To this day the an
swer brings thrill of pleasure, causes
my blood to quicken, my pulses to throb
faster. What was it? A trinket, bit of
gold and stone, a souvenir. It was the
mate to my cameo.
sprang across the short distance that
separated us.
"And you are Delia?"
"No, Edith"
"Then how did you come by that
cameo?'
"You gave it to me-"
Sand the name De1ia?-explain."
''That was my fathers doing. It was
first Edie. Papa corrupted it to Decide
A single letter had misled me for
twelve years.
"And you have kept my souvenir"
81 was forbidden to do so. I went to
the park the day after I. met you to re-
turn it. You were not there"
mo, was not there. And you re-
member meT'
81 have not entirely forgotten" she
said, dropping her eyes, 'though 1 was
pretty young to-
She did not finish.
''Love?" asked trembling.
There came an expression of earnest
ness in her face which, mellowed by the
moonlight, can iken to nothing else
than that of divine messenger from
another sphere. And she said, looking
straight out on the ocean and speaking
as one in dream:
"Would you kill him because you in
suited him? because you struck him?"
A kind of awe crept over me; there
was something in her appearance SO far
beyond mortality, something SO typical
OF a reverse of that descent into the
accused region of remorse which had
once threatened me.
Edith! Edithp' cried, the words of
the night before bursting involuntarily
from my lips, 81 will kill no one I am
no longer boy. Thank God, I escaped
the dreadful result of that boyish folly.
1t was you who prevented; you who
taught me what is true courage; teach
me now what is love-"
"And you have repented that you ever
thought of taking life-the life of
friend?'
'Repented? Yes, often, now, forever"
She stood silent q moment and then
said softly, "Then keep your VOW"
A smile broke through her serious
ness. In twinkling she was the little
witch who, twelve years before, had
decorated me with ribbons.
I have a little daughter Z years old,
with blue eyes. My wife and l are con-
tinually wrangling about the name, since