The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-02-15

more, stood staring away from her at
| nothing.
She did not move. There was long
| silence.
He had Weakened suddenly; the skies
| had been sapphire the sward emerald,
/ Plattville a Camelot of romance; to be
| there, northumberland now, like
| meteor burned out in a breath, the
| necromancy fell away and he gazed
| into desolate years. The thought of
| the Square, his dusty office, the bleak
| length of Main Street, as they should
appear tomorrow, gave him a faint
| physical sickness. To-day it had all
been touched to beauty; he had felt fit
| to live and work there a thousand
| years-a FOOLS dream and the waking
was to emptiness. He should die now
| of hunger and thirst in that Sahara;
| he hoped the Fates would let it be soon
but he knew they would not; knew
that this was hysteria that IN his en-
| durance he should plod on, plod, plod
| Justify on, through dingy, lonely
| years.
There was a rumble of thunder far
| out on the western prairie. A cold
| breath stole through the hot Stiffness
| and an arm of vapor reached out be-
! tween the moon and the quiet earth.
| Darkness fell. The man and the girl
kept silence between them. They
| IllSHI nave DGeH TWO Sdu VI
| the black little stream that FLASHED
unseen at their feet. Now and then an
| echo of far away lightning family il
| lumined them with green light.
| Thunder rolled nearer, ominously; the
| gods were driving their chariots over
the bridge. The chill breath passed,
| leaving the air again to it's hot inertia
Il did not want to 60" she said at
| last, with tears just below the surface
of her voice. II wanted to stay here
but he-they Wouldn't can't"
Wanted to stay here?" he said nus
| kily, not turning. "Here?"
Yes"
"In Rouen, you mean?"
| I'm PlattVille."
"In Plattville?" He turned now, as
| founded.
Yes; wouldn't you have taken me
on the 'Herald?'" She rose and came
toward him. II could have supported
myself here if you woodland I've
| studied how newspapers are made; 1
| know / could have earned a wage. We
could have made it a daily" He
searched in vain for trace of raillery
| in her voice; there was none; she
seemed. to intend her words to be taken
| literally.
Il don't understand" he said. 81
don't know what you mean"
Il mean that 1 want to stay here;
| that l ought to stay here; that my
conscience tells me I SHOULDN'T 1
can't and it makes me very unhappy
That was why l acted so badly"
Your conscience?' he cried.
"Oh, l know what a tumble and puz-
zle 1t must seem to you"
Il only know one thing; that you
are going away tomorrow morning
and that shall never see you again"
The darkness had grown heavy. They
could not see each other; but a wan
| glimmer gave him fleeing. misty
| view of her; she stood half-turned
away from him, her hand to her cheek
in the uncertain fashion of his great
moment of the afternoon; her eyes
he saw in the flying picture that he
caught-were adorably troubled and
her hand trembled. She had been ir-
resistible in her gaiety; but now that
mysterious distress assailed her. the
| reason for which he had no guess, she
was so divinely pathetic; and seemed
such a rich and lovely and sad and
happy thing to have come into his life
only to go out of it; and he was so
full of the prophetic sense of loss of
her-it seemed so much like losing eV-
erything-that he found too much to
say to be able to say anything.
He tried to speak, and choked a lit
tie. A big drop of rain fell on his bare
head. Neither of them noticed the
weather or cared for it. They stood
with the renewed blackness hanging
like thick drapery between them.
"Can-can you-tell why you think
you ought not to go?" he whispered,
finally with a great effort.
mo; not now. But l know you
would think 1 am right in wanting to
stay" she cried, impulsively. Il know
you would, if you knew about it-but
can't can't. ] must go in the morn
ing"
II should always think you right"
he answered in an unsteady tone, "Al-
ways!" He went over to the bench,
fumbled about for his hat and picked
1t up.
Come" he said, gently, 1T am going
now"
She stood quite motionless for a full
minute or longer; then, without a word,
she moved toward the house. He went
to her with hand extended to find her,
and his fingers touched her sleeve.
Then together and silently they found
the garden-path and followed its dim
length. In the orchard he touched her
sleeve again and led the way.
AS they came out behind the house
she detained him. Stopping short, she
shook his hand from her arm. She
spoke in a single breath, as if it were
all one word:
is not late. Why do you wish to leave
me, when l shall not see you again?"
THE Lord be good to mel" he broke
out, all his long-pent passion of dreams
rushing to his lips, now that the bar
rier fell. Don't you see it is because
I can't bear to let you go? l hoped
to get away without saying it. want
to be alone. l want to be with my
self and try to realize. / didn't want
to make babbling idiot of myself
but l am! 1t is because l don't want
another second of your sweetness to
leave an added pain when you've gone.
1t is because l don't want to hear your
voice again, to have it haunt me in
the loneliness you will leave--but it's
useless, uselessl I shall hear IL al
ways, just as l shall always see your
face, just as ] have heard your voice
and seen your face these seven years
ever since l first saw you, a child at
Winter Harbor 1 forgot for a while;
thought 1t was a girl had made up
out of my own heart, but IL was you
you always! The impression / thought
nothing of at the time. just the merest
touch on my heart. light as II was,
grew and grew deeper until II was
there forever. You've known me twen-
ty-four hours, and / understand what
you think OF me for speaking TO you
like this. II I had known you for years
and had waited and had the right 20
speak and keep your respect. what
have I 20 offer your ! couldn't even
iehe eaIe q you II you went mad as
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