The San Francisco call., 1905-04-30

gan the descent. She walked certainly
along the difficult path, though every
nerve was thrilling with agony. her
mind~one incessant clamor. At the
expense of his own heart he had
stayed away. AndNthis was what
their chance meeting to-day had
brought him. Thisi
Gordon was breathing hard at the
foot of the hill. He had fought des-
perately to retain consciousness, but
a film was clouding his eyes.
1T is only a few steps now. she
said, ito the carriage.
He stopped short.
You must obey me-" she insisted
wildly. 1T is the only way! You
must go to Ravenna!'
'"Tita-bring my horse''
1t was the last stubborn flash OF the
will, fainting in physical eclipse With
the words his hand fell heavily from
her shoulder and Tita caught him in
his arms.
At a sign from Teresa the servant
lifted him into the carriage.
'Home." she commanded, "and drive
swiftly.
Through the miles of rapid motion
under the ebon shadows deepening to
twilight she sat chafing Gordon'S
hands. her eyes. widened with q great
suspense upon the broadening stain
crimsoning his waistcoat.
In that interminable ride her soul
passed through a furnace of trans
formation. The touch of his lips upon
ners had been the one deathless in
start of life's unfolding. In that kiss
she had felt poured out all the vir-
ginal freshness OF a love renaiSSant
and complete. no mere to be with
held than a torrent leaping TO the sea.
But the awful instant that followed,
with it's first glimpse into the hideOuS
limbo of possibilities, showed her all
else that might lie in that love. of the
irreparable, the disastrous, the in
finitely terrifying. Her marriage had
been baleful bond of ring and book,
seasoned with hate, empty of sanctity.
His had been sunk somewhere in the
black slough of the past, a stark dead
thing. That they two should love
each other-she had imagined no fur
ther. She had known her own heart,
but that hour on the hill had been
the complete surety that Gordon loved
her fully in return.
Born of his extremity. there swelled
in her now the wondrous instinct OF
the lioness that is 4 part of every
woman's love. 1t lent her it's cour-
age. All fear. save the one suppress
ing dread that gnawed her heart,
slipped from her.
Day fell before they reached the
town, and in the quiet street the
freight of the carriage was not noted.
Before the entrance of Casa GuicciOlli
stood her fathers chaise.
Count Gambia met her in the hall,
to start at her strained look and at
the pallid face of the man Tfta car
ried-a face unknown to him. Paola
was behind him; by this she knew
her husband was returned
She scarcely needed her fathers
CALCULATIONS. Bring linen and water
quickly to the large chamber in the
garden wing she directed, "and send
for Doctor Aglietti."
Paolo went stealthily to inform
his master.
When Count Guiccioli crossed the
threshold of the candle-lighted room
he came upon strange scene. Teresa
bent over the bed. her face colorless
as a mask. Her father, opposite, to
whom she had as yet told nothing,
was tying a temporary bandage. Be-
tween them lay the inert form Of the
man against whom his own morbid
rage had been amassing. His eyes
f1ared. Where had she found him
Had Trevanion bungled or betrayed? !?
Did she guess? And guessing. had
she brought him to this house, in
satanic irony, to die before his very
sight?
At the suspicion the fever of his
moody eyes flew to his face. His
countenance became distorted. He
burst upon them with cracking ex-
clamation: THE Venetian dogi who
has dared fetch him here ?"
''Zitto!" said Count Gambia pettish-
edg" ed D0n you see 'ns man IS "0un0-
S''Wounded or whole. by the body Of
Bacchus. He shall go back tonight
to Bologna. He took a menacing
step forward.
How did you know he was lodged
there?"
Teresa's steely inquiry stayed him.
She had lifted her face, calm as a
white moon. He stopped. nonplused.
You had good reason to know"
She drew from her belt Malay kriss,
its blade stained with red This is
what struck him. 1t belonged to YOU
Am I to learn what it means to bear
the name of a murderer ?"
Her father stared his amazement.
"Dio santissimo," he exclaimed. Was
this why she had been so pale?
Before her movement her husband
had shrunk involuntarily. Il knew
nothing of it." he said in a. muffled
fury; Il am just come from Faenza-" !"
II saw whose hand struck the
blow" She spoke with deadly quiet
ness. "b have seen him more than
once under this roof. But whose was
the brain? Who furnished him this
weapon? 1t was gone from the arras
the day after you brought him to the
casa TO be your sicario-to do what
you dared not do yourself. Foolr'
Her voice rose. do you think a peer
of England common clay for your
clean-handed bravos? Are English
mobiles stabbed abroad without an ac-
counting to the last soldo? Do you
suppose no Roruagnan noble ever
went to the fortress with confiscated
estates? Is your reputation SO clean
that if he dies you think to escape
what / shall say?"
A greenish hue had overspread the
fiery sallow OF the old Counts face,
ghastly under the candles She had
touched two vulnerable points at once
-cupidity and fear. Something, too,
in what she said brought swift un-
welcome memory. He recalled an
other-a poet, also-Manzoni. the
Italian, dead by a hired assassin in
Forli years before; in the night some
times still that mans accusing look