Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1905-02-17

| myBelI alone IN the street. All the ulrec
tons Josiah had given me vanished IL
an instant from my memory, and 1 stood
helpless, not knowing which way to turn
! was in the outskirts of the town, it wal
nearly eleven o'clock, and not a soul wai
about. l walked straight on, fervently
hoping that it might be in the right direc
ton.
Finally l was in the middle Of a long
street, one side Of which was occupied
by ordinary houses, but that on which
found myself was distinguished by q
line of vast. gloomy looking buildings
turreted walls hung with ivy, and broken
ruins. felt awe-struck at the mighty
piles of masonry that lowered above me
| was standing right before an archway
of a grand Norman tower. l walked tim
idly beneath its black, vaulted roof, ia
the iron gate at its further end, and peer
ed at the line Of crumbling ruins that
rose among the trees and shrubs, white
and CHASTITY, in the moonlight.
As stood thus, heard rustic.
Chilled with a sense Of fear. turned
quickly round. Through a rent in the
wall, many yards above my head, came
broad ray Of white light. As / turned,
it was falling upon an object that fasci-
mated my gaze. 1t was the head and
face Of a beautiful girl. but so pale, SO
rigid, that, for an instant, thought they
were those Of statue. She was crouch
ing in the deep shadow of the black
walls. For a moment l stood spell
bound, my eyes fixed upon hers. She
was the first to break the spell Rising
from her crouching position, she timidly
ursNa nd 1ofd
white hand upon my arm. The touch
thrilled me like an electric shock.
You will not hurt me, will your" she
said in a soft, pleading voice. She was
a slight, delicately formed child, about
my own age, my own height, clothed in
dark gray dress. Her features We're so
delicately moulded that they seemed
rather those of a wax doll than of a
human being, except in their expression,
which was full Of soul. Her eyes were
wonderful; have never seen eyes like
them-they were so sad, so distracted,
in their far-of gaze; and, as she fixed
them upon mine, they thrilled my very
soul.
Hurt you?' 1 echoed. 1 knew not
what to say; my brain was too confused.
Can you tell me the road to the
city,? she asked, in the same low voice.
l answered that had no idea-that 1
had lost my way, and knew not where
was
What part do you want p she asked,
with look of deep interest
Il want to get to Little Bethlehem
Chapel then l can find my road an
swered.
At those words she drew back few
steps, and something of mistrust crept
into her face.
How strange that we should meetw
she said, in a dreamy voice. II think
can show you your way. would take
you, but l dare NOT" she added, with
shudder. "But first look out in the
street. and see IL any one is about"
| went to the opening of the gateway,
and looked, out. Not soul was in sight.
beckoned to her and she glided to my
side and pointed out the way l was to
take.
Il think this Is my way" she said,
indicating an entirely opposite direction;
then added, in an anxious tone, 'But
you will not tell any one that you have
seen me?''
l assured her 1 would not. She took
street, with the full moonlight shining
down upon us. / could not talk. / fell
like one deprived of the power of speech
and volition.
II wonder if we shall ever meet again
1t is not likely" she went on, with
sigh. That is your way. Good by"
She lightly pressed my hand, and with
one more glance from those sad eyes she
hurried away.
In less than half an hour I was in
the garden. As l began to climb the
tree the bedroom window was cautiously
raised; my companions were sitting up
for me. The clock struck twelve. MY
escapade had escaped detection. | was
overwhelmed with eager questions. | do
not know what l answered. l had fall
en- back into my dream. l do not know
whether l slept at all that night; my
senses were stepped in a delicious Ian
guor, in which the play and the after in
cident were inextricably woven together
lin which had changed my identity;
was Romeo, and she whom l had so
met was Juliet. With her
l acted all the scenes Of love that l
had witnessed; but mingled with them
were new elements, shadoWy, intangible;
fitting too quickly to ne grasped, but in
which Judith Porter's face was strange
ly mingled. And so these phantoms
chased each other through my brain. un-
til at the last fair head, with delicate
waxen features, wan and colorless, lay
dead in my arms.
(To be continuedl
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