The San Francisco call., 1905-04-09

bestowed upon him. And grant that
the punishment his evil behavior has
already brought him be more than suf-
ficient to cover his guilt from Thine
eyes.
On blessed Virgin, Queen of the
most holy Rosary. Intercede and OBJ
tain for me of thy Son our Lord this
grace! Alnen.''
A step fell behind him. He turned
half-dazed, his mind full of conflict.
A girl stood near him, delicate and
alert and wand-like as golden will
low, her curling amber hair loosely
caught her sea-blue eyes wide and
little startled. She wore Venetian
hood, out of whose green sheath her
face looked, like lilies under leaves.
Gordon's mind came back to the pres
ent time and space across an illimita-
bic distance
He stared, half believing himself in
some automatic hallucinatiOn. There
had been no time to speculate upon
wrat manner of hand had written
those words, what manner of woman's
soul had SO weirdly touched his own
out OF the void. knowledge came stag
geringly. Hers was the face of the
miniature that his heel had crushed
to powder.
He noted that her eyes had fallen to
the book in his hand, as mechanically
he asked, in Italian:
This book is yours, Signorina?"
Yes" There was faint flush of
color in her cheek, for she saw the
volume was open at the written page.
II there be an ear which is open to
human appeal" he added gently. that
prayer was registered, I knowi''
If there be-" Her thought stirred
protestingly. .Ah, Signore, surely
there is. some one who hears! How
could one live and pray otherwise?"
The girl caught the mixed feeling in
cent had told her that. He was an
Englishman, too, perhaps. Do you
know him. Signore ?"
His head turned quickly toward her.
In truth, had he ever really known
himself? Yes he answered after a
pause. Il know him. Signorina-far
better than most of the world. =
She hesitated, opening and closing
the book in her hands.
rs he all. they say of hin? 2"
who knows. Signorina ?"
1t was an involuntary exclamation
that sounded like acquiescence. The
girls face fell. In her thought, the man
of her dreaming, lacking an open ad-
vocate, had gained the secret one of
sympathy. Was it all true then? Her
voice faltered a little.
Il have not believed, Signore, that
with a heart all evil one could write
SOL"
Into the raw blend of tangent emo
tions which were enwrapping Gordon,
had entered, as she spoke. another
well-defined. Never in his life, for his
own sake, had he cared whether one
or many believed truth or lie of him.
But now there thrilled in him, new
born. a desire that this slight girl
should not judge him as did the world.
The feeling lent his words a curious
energy:
Many tales are told. Signorina, that
are true-some that are false. If he
were here-and / speak from certain
knowledge of him-he would not wish
me to extenuate; least of all to you
who have written what Is on that leaf.
Perhaps that has been one of his faults,
that he has never justified himself. BY
common report he has committed all
crimes, Signorina. He has thought it
useless to deny, since slander is not
guilt, nor is denial innocence, and since
neither good nor bad report could
tighten or add to his wretchedness. ;"
The tint of her clear eyes deepened.
Il knew he was wretched. Signore! 1t
was for that reason / left the prayer
here overnight before Our Lady of Sor-
rows-becauses have heard he is an
outcast from his own country and his
own people And then, because of
this" She touched the volume. "Ah,
/ have read little of all he has written
this is the only poem-for I read his
English tongue SO poorly; but in this
his heart speaks, Signore. 1t speaks of
pain and suffering and bondage. 1t
was not only the long-ago prisoner he
sang of; it was himself! himself!
felt there like hurt"
She had spoken rapidly, stumblingly,
and ended with hand pressed on her
heart. Her own feeling, as she sud-
denly became aware of her vehemenc
startled her, and she half turned away,
her lips trembling.
A softer light suffused her cheek.
His. pain-engraved face brought a
mist to her eyes. She was a
child of the sun, with blood
leaping to quick response and heart
a we'll of undiscovered impulses The
wicked milord's form lost distinction
and faded. Here was being mysteri-
Gus, wretched, too. and alone-not in
tangible as was he of the PalaZzo
Mocenigo, but beside her, speaking
with a voice which thrilled everv nerve
of her sensitive nature. Unconsciously
she drew closer to him.
At that moment call came under
the bare boughs: Teresa! Teresa"
She drew back. 1T is La Contessa,' -
she said; II must hasten and started
quickly through the trees.
His voice overlook her. "Signorina."
The word vibrated. "Will you give me
the prayer" He had come toward
her as she stopped. There is charm
in such things, perhaps"
The voice called again, and more
impatiently: "Teresa!"
She opened the book and tore out
the leaf with uncertain fingers. AS he
took 1t his hand met hers. He bent his
head and touched it with his lips.
She flushed deeply. then turned and
S