The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-07-27
Our Daily $bori Story

The holy Padre began the wedding ser vice and you responded: but when he turned to me could not speak; Oh, the agony of my effort to speak those words. 10 answer the wedding service read Tor us. I struggled till my dry bones shook and my eyes rattled Uke marbles In their sockets. Brent, must not intend to come back, but that this IS good bye. not for month. but Tor ever. And feel that my life will go with you when you 90. Brent. How can l live without you? Come to me once more: meet me at the old mine where we have met so often and where no one ever comes to interrupt. This Is the last thing shall ask of you. shall steal away and wait for you there and you must not fail me-
 Poor gfri, Brent had not meant to hurt her. but he had thought 1t better not to tell her that he would never return: hs felt that 1t would be easier for her. He was very fond of her. though his aRection held that indiher- ence that security and time bring to some men, and to some affections Well, he would not refuse her re- quest, he would lee her to say good bye again. When he was gone she would soon be her old self again and then Jose--he wondered If Jose would
 
 The pony. requiring no guiding hand, made an abrupt turn to the left, bring ing Brent's thoughts sharply to the approaching me stiny and in another moment Allen sprang to the ground.
 ''Carmelita! he cried astonished; was this radiant girl the one who had writ ten that heart-broxen letter? Carmclita stood before him smiling, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling as ex- citement will make them sparkle: the excitement of pleasure or of despera tion. So great was Brent's surprise to see this thrilling beauty where he had ex- drew her to him with the fervent af- lection of their first meetings.
 Cara mia. how can leave thee!" he whispered.
 But 1t was not Iong before the lengtheniny shad ,ws warned them that their short interview must end. Before morning Allen must be miles away and that would carry him to >>Ffs northern home. Allen had confessed to Carme- lita that he would not return and she had made no protest; she only smiled an1 shivered a i:tle.
 When he finally made the move to go Carmelita clung to him convulsively for moment then drew into deep
  wrapped herself in heavy shawl as if she were cold.
 Now you must say good bye to me in my own way" Carmelita's voice had an intense ring under the playful tone.
 yes Brent smiled: he was will ling to hunnor her and he knew some- thing of won1an's whims and fancies; besides. time was passing too rapidly to permit of argument or explanation. DO you remember, the sweet low voice came again, how in playfulness you used to fold your arms lightly around me and then suddenly draw me to your"
 Yes, indeed. I remember.
 T want you to do that once more, for the last time. when I say Come. Then promise me that you will go as quickly as you con; ride away at once and shall lie on the ground till no longer hear Bozs footsteps. Will you do just that. Brent. just thatT' swered. and thought. The dear girl does not wish me to see her break down after all her bravery"
 Carmefta drew her dagger from her bel. and poised 1t under the long folds of her thick scarf: she leaned forward little. She laid her hands over the guard in place of the handle which had
 
 Come" just one word. clear and sweet.
 Boz se'tl.d into a steady canter that would soon cover the miles to camp The sombrero set low over Brent's fore head to shut cut the last rays of the setting sun. and Brent Allen was think ing.
 After all carmelita's good by had puzzled him. Her lightness did not come from indifference, he was sure of that; yet in contrast with 1t the last scene seemed tragic; that good bye with it's little shuddering cry. that sounded like a cry of physical pain, as she sank from his arms to the ground. And there she would lic until she could no longer hear Box's footsteps
 shadow swept across the road ahead and Brent abstractedly realized that it was only one of many he had been sec ing In the last few minutes. He raised his eyes indifferently: oh, yes. the vul- lures of Mexico; their strange instinct was guiding them to something dying or dead.
 And Brent Allen rode on thinking.