The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1901-10-22

olsllkes suited. He had travelled in
many countries and had seemingly
the lntrlcacies of the European capt.
tals at his tongues end; she had read
widely and experienced much She
grew INTO mis- heart and became a
part of it. Being sensible, she un-
derWent no lengthy throes of men,
tai dissection in the effort to deter
mine whether or not she liked him.
She loved him and knew that she
loved MIN. and she waited for him to
speak.
Rowland was not a good man, but
ne was strong mentally and physically.
There had been much in his life to
make him a hater of the world. Hith-
erto he had not been worried by the
fact that he dwelt apart from his
kind; he had rather liked it, Now it
seemed to him that he had missed
much. He could not condemn the wo-
man to a life of solitude-and there
were other reasons why he should not
take her to him. 1t was characteristic
of him that he never doubted her love
for him. Indeed, she made no effort
to conceal it, though between them
there had been no declaration of it, As
he was strong the temptation assailed
him in double force and he fought with
1t nightly. Let ii be set down to his
credit that the better part of him won.
There was good-much good--in Row
land if only he had been permitted TO
show it earlier in life.
OF a soft and brilliantly moonlit
night, when the hemlocks cast black
shadows upon the water and the de-
moniacal laughter of a floating loon
came from afar, he rested upon his
oars and spoke to her. His face was
dead white and he gripped the oar
handles until his knuckles showed
white also. He said:
II leave tomorrow; l should have
gone long ago. Do you know that l
love you?"
She answered soberly: II do"
DO you love me?"
Again: II do"
Il knew it; 1 felt it; was afraid of
it! Yet the knowledge is sweet. Do not
think that I have staid on and on in
the desire to win you. l would have
gone if it had been possible to me, but
you held me. 1 cannot ask you to go
with me now; cannot ask you to come
to me in future. There is a gulf between
US, wide, deep, impossible. What my
life would have been with you to guide
and sustain it I cannot say: but I
know what it has been and is: It is
/ damnable. If you belonged to me 1
| should smirch you, and l love you too
well to blacken you. I cannot ask you
to come; I do not believe that you
| would come if you knew the truth. and
II would be necessary to me to tell you
| the truth"
! She had had her dreams within the
| past month and now they were shat
tered, but she was brave and looked at
him straight as she replied:
accept your words at their face
VaIue. You only know yourself; what
you have been; what you are; what
you will be. If there is contamination
IN you do not ask me to come in touch
with it. because I should refuse and
1t would go hard with me- / do not
want your secret. 1 know that you
have not spoken idly. Let me remem-
Der you as you came into my life and
dWelt there for little while, 1t will
be a dear memory"
q"
She raised one slender hand in the
moonlight and the words were stilled
on his lips. The boat grated at the
pier and she walked alone up the path
on the hillside that wound threadlike
among the pines Once in an open
space she turned toward him. The
silver bars sifted through the branches
and fell upon her and she waved him
a good-by.
Winifred Bray. taking up her life
work where she let it fall and doing
her duty as she saw it, with an ever
lessening poignancy of regret, coming
in time to think of her vanished sum-
mer as something dead, to be put away
into dust, did not read this paragraph
in the daily press and would not have
remembered it if she had:
"Sweetwater. Mimi, Nov. 10-Bur-
glars last night blew open the vault
of the First National Bank at Home
wood, twenty miles east of here. This
morning the local police attempted to
arrest two strangers who reached here
in a wagon. A desperate fight follow.
ed in which one of the men was slain;
the other escaped and a posse is in
pursuit. The wagon contained the cash
and kit of tools. Letters in the dead
mans pocket We're addressed to C. J.
Howard He is believed to have been
Black Cyrus Howard, the notorious
craftsman from Boston"