The San Francisco call., 1905-04-16
CHAPTER xxxII.
The Restraining Hand.

An east wind blew from the Adri-
attic. 1t churned the shallow lagoon TO
an ashen yeast of fury. hurled cnurlish
waves against the sand-reef of the
Lido and drove fieering rains gusts over
the lonely canals and deserted squares
of Venice to drench the batfied and be-
draggled pigeons huddled under the
columns OF the Doges' Palace. 1t beat
down the early blossoms in the, garden
Ut the Palazzo Albrizzi till they lay
broken and sodden about the arbor and
the Wet stone benches. 1t charged
against the closed shutters of the Pa
iazzo Mocenigo, where Fletcher. ODE
dient though foreboding, awaited the
retuIn of his master. The sky was
piled with dreary portents, clouds IT,
tanic, unmixed. like avalanches of gray
falling cliffs, and beneath 1t Venice lay
as ghostly and as gray, all it's miracle
hues gone lack-luster, its glories palled,
its whole face pallid and corpse-like.
In the old monastery of San Lazzar-
ro, in the bare whitewashed room used
as library, with wide windows 'front.'
ing the sea, Gordon sat bending over a
table He had been trying TO write, but
could not for the thoughts that fiocked
between him and the paper.
They were thoughts OF Teresa, of
what he had innocently brought upon
her. TO save her pain he would HIM
self have gone through imn1easurable
niiserieS, but no pang of his could
tighten hers, or ward the jealous fury
that might sting and embiJter her life.
Where was she? Behind some cold
palazzo walls of Venice, suffering
through him? He knew not even her
name now. Should they never meet
again?
She loved him. When and how she
had crossed that indistinguishable
frontier mattered nothing. The fact
~.
loved before, he thought. Not Lady
Caroline Lamb; hers was an aberrant
fancy, an orchid bred of hothouse
life in London. Not Annabel. his wife;
she had loved the commiseration of her
world more. than she loved him. Not
Jane Clermont-he shuddered as he
thought OF her. For he knew that. not
for one ephemeral moment Of that
reckless companionship had a real love
furnished extenuation.
Now. he told himself. Il. who could
not love when / might, may not when
/ can Yet in spite of the black past
that bars my life from such as Teresa s
II love heri In. spite OF although for
both of. US 1T is an impossible condi-
ton, impossible then since i was
chained to a marriage in England,
doubly impossible now since she Is
bound by q marriage here. 1 love her
and she loves me! And our love can be
only what the waves of hell were TO
Tantalus!"
He struck the Uttered sheets of pa
per with his hand, as a heavier gust OF
wet wind ratified the easement Dark
ness and despairt' he said aloud. That
Is all my pen can paint nowl"
A door opened and Padre Somalian
entered.
The friar surveyed the scene OF tenn
pest from the window a moment in 81
lence: then approached the table and
sat down.
.You are at work. my son?" he in
quired in English.
The toue was mild as a child's. Since
his penance after that scene by the
shrine the eye of the padre had seen
truer But he had asked the man be-
fore him nothing.
"Only idle verses, padre"
Why idle?''
Because they cannot express whar l
would have them"
The friar pondered, his fingers laced
in his beard. To-day. in the dreariness
of the elemental turmoil without, he
longed intensely to touch some chord In
this lonely man that would vibrate to
confidence.
What would you have them ex-
press?" he asked at length.
a dream of mine last night. padre.
A dreamI Dreams were but the reflex
of the waking mind. The friar felt
suddenly nearer his goal.
''Will you tell IL to me, my son
Gordon rose, went to the window and
looked out as the other had done. His
face was still turned seaward as ne be-
gan:
TT was dream OF darkness. The sun
was extinguished and moon and stars
went wandering into space 1t was not
the darkness of storm and night, padre,
for in them Is movement. In my dream
there was none. Without the sun, riv-
ers and lakes lay stagnant. The waves
were dead, the tides were. in their
graves. Ships rotted on the sea TIL
their masts fell. The very winds were
withered. Darkness was everything-it
was the universal That was my
dream"
There is no darkness in Gods uni
verse" said Padre Somalian, after a
pause. 1T Is only in the human heart.
Men love darkness rather than light.
says the Book Did men welcome II IN
your dream?"
"Morning came" went on Gordon:
"came and went. and came, but il was
not day. Men forgot their hates and
passions. They prayed only for light
but IL did not come. They lived by
watch fires, and when their fuel was
gone they put the torch to their own
homes to see one duOtner races nuts
and palaces and thrones blazed for
beacons. Whole cities burned at once.
The forests were set on fire and their
cracking trunks dropped and faded
hour by hour. AS the ember-fiashes
fell by fits on the men who watched
them. their faces looked unearthly.
Some lay down in the ashes and howled
and hid their eyes. Some rested their
chins on their clenched hands and
smiled. Others hurried TO and fro feed
ing the flames. looking up only TO curse
the sky--the pail of past world. Wild
birds fiuttered on the baked ground and
brutes crawled tame and tremulous.
Vipers hissed under foot and did nor
sting. They were killed for food. War
was everywhere. for every meal was
bought with blood. and each man sat
apart sullenly and gorged himself In
the darkness. One thought ruled
death, quick and ignominious. Famine
came. Men died and lay unburied. The