The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1898-09-20


sweeter than music, Kiss me first. ="
There was a long pause-Y eldham
sat blankly staring at the Goals, and I
gazed intently into the lnists of nicotine
that curled upward to the ceiling.
''There are some kisses,' he said
presently, "that are worth the whole
sum of human pleasure. Pleasurel
Faughl A rotten Notwithstanding to
those who only half live"
He handled cigarette mechanically
and lit it,
"We had gone through most of the
dresses when we came to some fine azure
drapery incrusted with Japanese gold.
1t was NINE she said, and was
worn by a woman hated. She borrow
ed it one night after coming over in the
rain.
Yet you hated her?' asked, talk
ing my cue from the curl of her lip.
mot then. In those days thought
men were true-George truest of all
and women good
81 looked down at the gold storks on
the heavy eastern silk, and said, And
when did you change your opinion?'
"When hung away this gown, and
determined it should never touch me.
II rose to put my arm around her,
to break the skein of unpleasant asso-
Citations, but she moved away, and said
in hard, almost defiant voice:
There is one more, tell me it's tale
if you can, and if not
"She paused while I took the fine
lace and lawn into my fingers. 1t seemed
summer dress, scarcely crushed. In
front, however, and on the sleeve was
a splash of dull red brown.
Paint?' suggested, or blood. An
accident perhaps:?' and in questioning
met her eyes.
Don't, don't!' I cried, don't
speak! flung myself back in the chair
and covered my face to avoid the sight
Of hers-the expression of horror that
was staring from it.
i will, must speak. Yes, blood;
his blood. OH! she exclaimed, stand
ing in front Of me i'll that Cassandralike
attitude / had noticed before. Il can
see it now. George had gone to the
country-so he had said-and I, to pass
the time, dined with an uncle at Big
nard's S. You know the room--the t..ou-
sand lights and loaded tables, the G. ink
OF glass and glow Of silver-the gay
and brilliant company that is always
there? We dined, and were leaving aft
erward for the opera. My uncle passed
out first and Twas about to follow him,
when, at little table, saw George
and her; George looking down, down
into her eyes with a hot red flush in his
cheeks and lifted wineglass in his
hand. I don't know what happened
burst between them, flung the glass
from his fingers, and them
thought she must scream, but only
a gasp escaped her. She looked at some
thing on the ground and added in an
awed, strangely intense voice, He was
dead
"The tone compelled mo to her side;
torrent of agony seemed frozen at her
lips.
Listen' she cried, still standing
rigid, though the thrilling tone of her
voice confessed her emotion. 1.-THE YER
dict of acquittal was merely doom tc
| perpetual remorse. A life for life,
was cried to me from even the daybreal,
chirping of the birds.
:" oh, Aubrey, be merciful-spare
me all you can, for I am like pilgrim
who faints in sight of the great road. !
know now that it is not the pulse OF
life. but the color and the scent of it,
| that makes ones sacrifice. I believe
that every guilty soul must have his
moment of high opportunity, of expia-
ton, and this is mine. You are brave,
you are great, you are generous Shall
you tempt me-and stay, or will you
save me-and go?' I"
Poor Yeldham's voice broke to a
hoarse whisper, and l laid sympathet-
ic hand upon his knee.
"And you, Aubrey, you went?'
81 am here" he answered. with a
groan that was more pitiful than tears.
| -Coudensed From Black and White