The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1895-01-25
The P0RTENT.
A Story Of the Inner Vision of the
H~ighIanders, Commonly Called
the Second Sight.
By GEORGE
CHAPTER vIII.-(Continued.)

CHAPTER VIII.-(COntinued)
1 sprang to my feet and opened the
hidden door. There she stood, white,
asleep, with closed eyes, singing like
a bird, only with a heartful of sad
meaning in every tone. / stepped
aside, without speaking, and she pass
ed me into the room. / closed the door
and followed her. She lay already
upon the couch, still and residual
ready covered with my plaid. l sat
down beside her, wait NJ, and cazed
upon her in wonderment. That she
was possessed of very superior intel
lectual powers, whatever might be the
cause Of their having lain dormant so
long, ! had already fully convinced
myself; but was not prepared to find
art az well as intellect.
Here was n song, of her own making
as to the music, so true and so potent,
that, before l knew anything of the
words, it had surrounded me with a
dream of the place in which the scene
of the ballad was laid.
| sat and thought: Some obstruction
In the gateWayS, outward, prevented
her, in her waking hours, from utter
ing herself at all. Their obstruction
damming back upon their sources the
outgoings of life, threw her into this
abnormal sleep. In it the impulse to
~utterancc, still unsatisfied, so wrought
within her unable, yet compliant form,
tina she could not rest, but rose and
walked. And nov afresh surge from
the sea of her unknown being, unre-
pressed by the hitherto Of the objects
Of sense, had burst the gates and bars,
swept the Instructions from its chan
mel, and poured from her in melodious
song.
And now I had once more the delight
of watching a spirit dawn. Il sOul-rise,
in that lovely form. The light flushing
OF its pallid sky was, us before, the
first sign. l dreaded the fash of love
ly flame, and the OutburSt of reCnant
anger. ere | should have time to say
that | was not to blame. But when,
at length, the full dawn, the slow sum
rise came, it was with all the gentle
ness of a cloudy summer morn. Never
did Il more celestial rosy red hang
about the skirts of the level sun, than
decpened and glowed upon her face,
when, opening her eyes, she saw me
beside her. She covered her face
with her hands; and instead of the
words of indignant %reproach which 1
had dreaded to hear, she murmered
behind the snowy screen, 81 am glad
you ave broken your promise"
My heart gave Il bound and was
still. l grew faint with delight. NO
/ said, 81 have not broken my promise,
Lady Alice; l have struggled nearly
to madness to keep it-and l have kept
it"
81 have come then of myself.
Worse and worse! But it is their
fault"
Tears now found their way through
the depressing fingers. l could not
endure to see her weep. / kneeled be-
side her, and, while she still covered
her face with her hands, | Said-I do
not know what I said. They We're
wild. and. doubtless, foolish words in
themselves, but they must have been
wise and true in their meaning. When
/ ceased, l knew that l had ceased on
iy by the great silence about me. l
was still looking at her hands. Slowly
she withdrew them. 1t was as when
h sun breaks forth on a cloudy day.
The winter was Over and gone; the
time of the singing of birds had come.
She smiled on me through her tears,
and heart met heart in the light of
that smile.
She rose to go at once, and | begged
for no delay. 1 only stood with clasp
hands. gazing at her. She turned
at the door. and said:
Il dare say l shall come again; I
am afraid l cannot help it; only mind
you do not wake me-"
Before | could reply, 1 was alone;
and | felt that l must not follow her.