Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1900-04-19
CHAPTER VI.

1t had been morning of languorous
heat, and now noon-the long, breath
less Indian noon-was at its meridian
when, on a day in May, Don Gordon
arrived at Rawal Pindi and rode out
under a burning sun to Lille Der
vents house.
The durwan met him with evident
surprise and the intimation that 1.-The
gates were closed" lpolite Hindostani
for mot at home'), and for an instant
Don's heart stood still, with a vague
fear of he knew not what.
Then suddenly he remembered it was
the hour of siesta, a time when visits
are never paid in India; and, reas-
sured, he dismounted from his horse,
and, presenting his card with the OBJ
servation that the memsahib would
be sure to see him on receipt of that"
he passed through the vestibule with
masterful step, and went unannounced
into the drawing room to await Lilies
coming.
How long he waited he knew not
He walked to the window and noted,
as the mind will note the veriest trifles
at moments Of tense excitement, that
the great adjutant birds were still doz-
ing in the sunshine, and the peacocks
were spreading their gorgeous plumes
on the terrace, as when last ne looked
OUT upon it from this same window.
The oleander, with it's clusters of
pink; the baubel, with its perfumed
bells of gold; the jasmine and acacia,
luxuriant in their wild beauty; the
blue jays and the crested yellow SPAR
rows, fitting from shrub to shrub; the
brilliant butterflies, sailing through the
voiceless air-all was unchanged, only
the fair Indian home would know its
master never more.
Never more! There was something
terrible in the conviction, something
appalling to Don to remember that
death, chill and stern and awful, lay
beyond this warm young world of bud
ding beauty.
A sharp groan fell from his lips,
stifed even as 1t escaped them; for
the portiere had rustled, and he turned
quickly to find he was no longer alone.
Lille had come to him just as she
had risen from her siesta. Her golden
hair, let loose for GOODNESS, streamed
over her white muslin robe, and round
her waist was broad sash of black
ribbon, the sight of which sent a fresh
pang to her lovers heart.
"A grea, sorrow nobly borne is
great dignity" AS Don looked at her
he realized, almost with a feeling of
awe, that such dignity had fallen upon
Lille now. The dire calamity she
had so dreaded had come to pass, yet
she had not sunk beneath the blow.
The passion of her grief was spent
and resignation had come. Anguish
had left it's pallor on her cheek, but the
hopelessness of despair was not past
Don looked at her, marveling at her
fortitude and calm; then the next in
slant his arms were closing round her
like wise and straining her to his
beating heart, for her calm had given
way, and she had flown to the shell
ter Of his embrace, with tender, Sob
bling cry.
"Oh, Don, Don, my all on earth
now!" she cried.
He held her tight, and kissed her
again and again. 1t was as If he
dreaded the moment might come when
he should never hold her thus any
more, and he was drinking to the
full this embittered cup of bliss. Pres
emily she withdrew herself. for there
was something almost fierce In the
fervor Of his caresses. She sank on