The San Francisco call., 1905-05-14

age indifference and insolent disdain
and struggling for a fresh foothold on
life { he malice that had pursued him
in Trevanion he had accepted unre
sistiugly as part of an ordained ne
cesSity But with the unfolding Of the
new conception and character he had
uonle 10 realize that. as the most inti-
mate clements ot his own destruction
had lain within himself, SO only 10
himself could he lock Tor seif-retrleVal,
Ard VAS that retrieval TO be found
in the fatuous passiveness behind
ahich he had intrenched himself2
If there were an appointed des-
Tiny it could not lie that way, but
rather in the meeting of the issues fate
offered. the doing of a worthy deed for
the deeds own sake. the making real
of an heroic dream-putting aside
the paltry pride that caviled how OF
why that issue was prcsented-Nlthout
reckoning save cf the final outcome.
He thought of an oaken box now on
its way TO a cemetery in Rome. What
would the man whose ashes it held
have replied? Ee needed no answer 10
that.
As he pondered, frcm the shadowy
garden under the orange trees, woven
With the warm scents of summer, rose
a soft strain. 1t was Teresa singing II
her harp. her voice burdened Tonight
with the grief of Mary Shelley-the
song Gordon had long ago written TO
plaintive Hindoo refrain.
Low as the words were, they came
clearly into the silence:
Oh.-my Ioneiy-ionely-ion -ionely-pillow!
Where * my lov,r? Where Is my lover?
Is II his bark which my droary dreams dis
cOyer2
Far-far away, and alone along the bIl,ox7
oh.-my loneIy-loneIy-l,nei neiy-tillov:
Why must my head ache where his gentle
How the long night nsgs loyelassly and slosly
And my head drcogs over the hhe lie
willow,
Gordon's gaze had turned in the di-
rection Of the sound. He could see l.er
sitting in her favorite spct, her hair a
dusk OF starlight. leaning on her harp.
If she only had not sung that-now,
Il do not ask hasty answer Bla-
quiere was speaking agdin-'it is not
a light proposal Your lordship will
wish time"
The man TO whom he spoke put out
his hand with a sudden gesture.
Wait. he said.
What need OF time? Would a day
week. make him more abe?' Through
The turmoil OF new emotions he rea-
soned swiftly.
There were two to cousider-the
woman he loved. whose singing voice
he heard, and Ada his child If for Te-
resa's happiness he put aside this call,
what then? A continuance CT life in
this fond refuge he had found here in
ltaly-in time, peace and quiet, per-
hars. But happiness cankered for
them both by the recollection of what
he might have done, but would not.
And for Ada2 The knowledge that he
had once failed a supreme cause.
The song rose again. Pietro Gamba's
face turned suddenly tender.
On, thou. my sad ard solitary pillow.
send me kind dreams TO Keep my heart from
In return for the tears I shed upon the
waking:
Lei Tnria not die till he comes back DER the
biowl
If ne went-and did not return.
To die worthily for a great cause
though he be but one of the many
waves that break upon the shore be-
fore the tide can reach its mark To
forward the splendid march of freedom
against the barbarian. To lead Greece
toward its promised land. even though
he himself be, like Moses destined to
see ii but afar off. The world could
sneer or praise. as it chose. 1t might
attribute 10 him the highest motives
or the most vainglorious. Some time it
would understand. 1t would have his
memoirs. his final bequest to Ada.
He Thought of picture in England,
daughter should grow W to know
the features OF her father.
by their deeds ve shall know
them"-the saving possessed him. Far
kinder his going FOR her memory Of
him.
Better for Teresa. Her brother re-
nained 10 care for her. She had in
her own right only the doWry returned
to her from the Guiccioli ccffers with
her papaI separation. But by selling
Newstead Abbey-Dallas could ar
range that-he could put her beyond
the reach % want forever. Better far
for her, In her recollection ii would
cover the stain of that life in Venice
from which her hand had drawn him
and leave her love j higher, nobler
thing.
He lifted his head suddenly and ad-
dressed Blaquiere:
y viii 60" he said.