Middletown transcript., 1903-05-16
AGNES
By Eta W. PIERCE
IDLY toward him

Agnes!
AS he called her in that wild
importuning voice, she moved for
ward like needle to a magnet
He did not attempt to lay so mucf
as a hand upon her, but drawing
her nearer and nearer by the
might Of the great passion afame
in his face, he opened his arms
mutely, and she glided into them,
and with that yielding grace by
which a woman owns her master,
sank upon his breast.
There was silence for a space,
then Agnes March spoke:
How came you to think of me
to love me-a Bohemian from
my birth up! Had you no other
patient more worthy of your re-
gard?
He did not even smile down at
the arch, splendid face upturned
to his own. He looked stern and
pale.
Has your life, then, been so
hard, my darling? he asked, in a
constrained tone.
Not hard, she answered, for
friends of my father in the west
have sent me, since his murder,
sums more than sufficient for all
my wants-but very sad, very
lonely, Eric.
He held her face pressed down
into his breast.
Since you love me-and you do
you do! he cried, in fierce exul-
tation; and since you have no.
body to consult, and I have no.
body, nothing must stand be-
tween us-not even time. I will
have no delays; they are danger
Gus.
He was smiling his faint, in
comprehensive smile, but there
was look in his eyes, half fear,
half mad joy, which she could
notfathon. Stirred blythe depths
Of her own fiery heart, she rested
in his arms-the arms Of the man
who had acknowledged himself
cruel and pitiless but a few mo-
ments before-her master!
Do you give yourself utterly
and entirely to me, Agnes?
Utterly and entirely, she fall
tered.
He bent and sealed her rich
mouth with one long, slow, pas
sionate kiss.
They sat quietly down in that
mean room to talk of their future.
Over her hands his own, velvet
soft, but strong as steel, closed
with the conscious grasp of pos
session.
I will give you one week longer
here, he said, and only one. Then
we must 60 abroad. I do not
wish to see this part of the globe
for ten years, at least; not till I
have bound you to me indissolu-
bly,; not till you have learned to
love me SO well that angels nor
devils can tear US apart.
Fierce, passionate as she was
with others, Agnes March felt
like wax in the will of this man,
SO much fercer, stronger, more
passionate than herself. Had
Eric Brandt asked her that mo-
ment to sink with him to the bet
tomless pit, she would have done
so, unwilling, perhaps, but pow
erless to resist.
When he had left her in the
deepening twilight of this mo-
mentous day; when she was alone
with the new life of love which
had opened SO suddenly upon her,
she turned in the fulness of her
faithful heart to the portrait
above the mantel.
Papa, she began, in a low, awed
voice, have you heard all? He
loves me! Is it not strange.
papa? He has wealth and genius
and fame; all that I have not. His
presence is like some subtle drug
to me. | am in a delirious dream
when he is near. I am full Of
fear and despair when he goes.
AS he held me to his heart to.
night, he did not know that | was
praying silently to die, that mo-
ment. | could not bear to think |
Of ever living another. o papa, |
If this is love, how terrible it is.
You used to tell me when I was
a little child, that like Charles |
I carried misfortune in
my face; but, oh, whatever losses
await me in the future, pray God |
his love be not one of them! Bet |
ter any fate, any torture, any |
Heath, no matter how cruel.
Then there was silence in the |
room, for Miss March, with her |
face bowed forward on the man.
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