Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-08-14
OLEANDERS.

Margaret! Is it possible? After SO
many years! Tell me you are not
dream, Margaret! Margaret!'
John Stair put ont his hands as he
spoke and caught both those Of the
woman firmly in his hold. She, rising
from her seat, gazed at him with
startled eyes and parted lips, while the
flowers in her lap were scattered in
rosy mass about her feet.
II was thinking of you," the man
went on in soft voice of entire glad
ness. Gin all the years, the long ten
years, since we said goodby you have
been in my remembrance always, al
ways. AT every little pause in the life
which has been SO full and yet so empty
your face has come before me, and here
just now, looking at the sea and the
sunlight, the pain was more than 1
could bear. turned to leave the ter
race, and there you were among the
flowers, Margaret. In all my life it is
the first good turn that fate has done
me- Tell me you are glad to see me
again. -
Margaret drew her hands from his
with sigh, still looking up at the thin,
keen face, the gray eyes bent eagerly
upon her.
"Glad-yes, I am glad" she said,
but her voice was sad with the remem-
brance Of long pain and much weeping.
"It will be worse afterward-but for
the moment-ah, John, how long the
years have been How lonely"
There was pause between them,
and he sat beside her on the low bench,
each afraid to break the silence, while
he gathered up the flowers and laid
them on her knees again. Round them
azaleas and oleanders grew in a glow
ing curve Of rosy color, shutting out the
length of terrace. Before them, beyond
the glitter of the white houses on the
beach, lay the sea, blue and sail flecked,
meeting the blue curves of the cloudless
sky in it's serenest mood.
''Tell me of yourself, !" he said at last,
leaning forward and touching the fut-
ter of black ribbons Oh her white dress.
81 know so little-just few meager
lines in the paper or chance remark
in mans letter. know that he is
dead, that you are free, but that is all
Tell me, Margaret
The spell of his entreating voice was
on her, and the long sorrow of her lone
ly life came to her in vivid stroke
which caught her by the throat in sob
and drowned the blueness of her eyes in
tears.
"There is not much to tell" she an
swered, leaving her fingers in his clasp.
"Six months after you left for India /
was married to him, as you read, Of
course"
Her brow knitted sharply in an in
slant s contraction Of pain, but he did
not turn away.
"Yes?"
"Well, there it is-the story of my
life," Margaret said, with little smile
sadder than her tears. ~ was 30, pen
niless and pretty. I married million
aire of 60, and you--you went to India"
A silence, while the eyes of both were
bent upon the sea and the sound of mu-
sic from the hotel terrace above came
family over the fowery screen around
them.
''He was generous in his way" Mar
garet went on after little. "He freed
my father from the money he owed
him. and the boys got on all right and
Dolly made good match. Father and
mother got their part Of the bargain,
and newell, he got his too.
John Stair flung her hand from him
suddenly and turned away sharply.
"Ah, you wheel" said Margaret bit
terly. But for me-think Of it-he was
hard and misery and coarse, and ! was
his wife and loved you.
Stair turned to her again.
"But now? You are free?'
eyes," she answered slowly, II am
free Two years ago he died and left
me free and rich and childless. Tell me
now, John-tell me about your wife. "
"Ah, no; not now," Stair said eager
s II. "Let us forget for few hours
forget all except that we have been SO
long apart that we have met again,
Margaret.
mo, no, you shall tell me-, Mar
garet cried sharply. "Why, why did
you marry? You were man, and
strong. There was no one to torture
you. You shall tell me. +"
The eager look on Stairs keen face
faded, and his face grew white.
"It was in India. was ill, down
for months with fever, and she nursed
me at the risk Of her own life and good
name. I could do nothing else but
marry her. Poor Martial
''Martha-is that her nameY'
eyes"
"What Ia she like-your Martha?"
There was ring Of scorn in Margaret's
voice, but her eyes saw the sea through
the glitter Of her unshed. tears. "What
10 she likeP"
"A homely little body, very small