Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1900-08-23
CHAPTER ".

Il shall not let you go!' Paul an
swered vehemently You dare not
send me from you, Margaret-you can
not! If nothing else gives me right
to you. surely my love does?"
She made no answer, but shiyered as
If with cold
Cleland went on passionately:
IF you can say to me, Margaret, that
you no longer love me, that the past
is dead and buried to you, or that you
have been self-deceived when you
imagined you did love me, then | shall
go away and trouble you no more. 1t
may be that shall shortly be leaving
this country, perhaps forever; and
felt | could not go without knowing
the truth"
He felt her shiver again, but her
strength came back, and she stood
erect, looking at him with eyes that
had something of the look of hunted
animal at bay in them.
Margaret" he went on slowly, after
q pause, you must tell me, now and
here, have you ceased to love me? By
your answer l will abide; it will be
final with me-"
A strange look crossed the girls
face.
If refuse to answer"
81 shall not leave you till you an
swer," said Cleland. Margaret. II
you can say these words after me
Paul, no longer love you'll shall be
satisfied and go my way. 1t is all
ask"
Again the white hands moved con-
vulsively. 1t gave Cleland a curious
sensation-as if she had wrung them
piteously. She began slowly:
Paul, I-no-longer-" Then her
voice dropped and broke into half
sob and her face fell between her
hands.
In the silence that followed Paul
Cleland felt his heart quicken its beat
ing, with an emotion that was half
Joy, half pain. She loved him still,
then! These proud, pure lips of hers
could not utter an untruth. But the
agony that could wiring that sob from
self-contained Margaret Crawford
most frightened him. He could 1t
even guess at its cause.
He spoke at last, in a voice I'M
steady and uncertain.
Then you love me still, Marga-
ret?"
She looked up then and at sight of
his agitation her own calm seemed to
return. That one pitiful yielding to
weakness had startled her back to her
old self. And her woman's heart, for
getting its own pain and trouble, tried
90 find some comfort for his.
Paul" she said, gently laying her
hand upon his with a touch that
thrilled him through and through, Il
cannot hide the truth from you. do
love you-I shall love you always; but
there is a reason why ! can never al
low you 10 speak of this, why We can
never, never be anything to each
other. There is a terrible barrier be-
tween US which can never be removed.
Do not ask me what it isl cannot
tell you. Do | seem cruel? Believe
me, it is because | wish to save you
pain that | cannot tell you more.
Paul, God has laid on us both heavy
burden; but he will surely give US
strength to bear it,"
you ask hard thing of me, Mar
garet," said Paul Cleland, huskily.
You ask me to give you up forever,
and | am not even to know why. If |
knew your reason, l might submit to
your decree; but you cannot expect
me tameIy to give you up without
knowing why | am to do SOL
Margaret was silent. She felt that
il would be easier for her also could
she tell him the whole truth; but what
cruelty it would be to intiict on him
the knowledge that his father had
died-or taken his own life, as Paul
himself seemed to think-believing his
son guilty of so fearful a crime?
No, she must never tell the truth.
For Paul's own sake, for the sake of
the dead, she must not.
will you not take my word for it?"
she said at last, very gently. The
barrier between us is insuperable. and
| cannot, must not, tell you the nature
of it. Oh, spare yourself and me
further pain, Paul, by leaving ME now!
We must try to forget"
Il shall never forget" said Paul, a
little harshly. He was a Scotchman,
and "dour" and obstinate rather than
passionate. You are sacrificing your
own happiness and mine, Margaret, to
some absurd notion of honor. You
think | am coward enough to shrink
before the sneers of the world over a
dead mans memory; you have, per-
haps, learned after all your father was
guilty, and you will not confess it to
me- You would rather wreck my life
and my happiness!"
But the next moment he stood hum
bled and contrite before the look of
those tender, dark eyes, and the cOur-
age and sweetness of the pure. pale
face He raised her little white hand
and kissed the hem of her sleeve rev.
ertntly.
Margaret Margaret, forgive met"
he cried. "Only say it is that alone
that divides us, and | shall sweep the
phantom from our path"
1T is not only that" she answered,
in a low voice. IF it were, then
should leave it to you to judge wheth-
er it was a real barrier or not; but it
would only make your pain the great
er if were to tell you what the bar
rier is. 1t can never be done away
with; it must stand between us for
ever"
And I am to go from you, Margaret,
knowing no more than this?"
ut must be so. 1t is as Heaven has