The San Francisco call., 1905-04-16
HALLIE -ERMINIEI
RIVES.
. -

inS spear OF Sl1oleSS. 1Sr nuSShS
fluttered in his.
''Yes-yesI" she whispered The
shouts, the music, the surge and
laughter around faded. She felt her ,
self. unafraid. drifting on sea OF
unplummeted depths.
A shock of fright brought her to
herself. A man bent and dressed
richly, with an affectation Of youth.
was passing. attended by a servant.
As they approached, the keen-eyed
servitor had pointed out Gordon.
That is the evil Englishman, Excel
lence, of whom you have heard" he
had said, and the old noble he led
had set his keen eyes on the other
with chuckling relish.
Teresa, in the momentary pause
they made, hardly represSed cry, for
that moment discovery seemed to her
imminent. The old man was the
Count Guiccioli-he who had leaned
that afternoon from the palazzo ball
cony. Her pulses leaped to panic. She
felt as IL that sharp gaze must go
through the veil, and pressed closer TO
Gordon
But master and servant passed on,
and her fear tainted out.
The man beside her had felt that
quick pressure, and instinctively the
touch of his arm reassured her, though
he had not surmised her alarm, In
that instant Gordon had been thinking
like lightning. A temptation had
sprung full-statured before him. In
a flash he had read the daWning secret
behind those eyes, the sweet unspoken
things beneath those trembling lips
crimson-soft as poppy leaves To pos
sess this heart Tor his own. Not TO
tell her who he waS-not yet, when
her purity would shrink-to nurture
this budding regard with meetings like
this faf riI1
it burst into flower for him, all en-
crossing, supremel To make this love,
huttering to him unsOught in the pur-
lieus of his souls despair, his solace
and his sanctuary
Coincidence grappled with him-a
stealthy persuasion. In the crisis of
his madness, when at Geneva he had
cursed every good thing, her pictured
face had sought him out to go with
him. Into the nadir Of his degradation
there in Venice it had dropped like
falling star TO call him to himself.
Fate had led him TO her in the woods
OF La Mlra-had brought them both
face to face at the shop in the piaz-
zetta-and now had led her to him
again her in the midst of the maskers.
1t was Kismeti
Il did not think there was more
than one in all the world who would
have done what you have to-night!''
he said; that would have cared If
lived or diedi Why do you care ?"
"Ah!" she answered hurriedly. rs
there one who would not? l do not
know why. One does not reason of
such things. One feels. 1 know l
have cared-ever since that morning
in the wood, when you found the book.
when / gave you the prayer!
He started. releasing her hands.
'Intercede and obtain for me of thy
Son, our Lord, this grace!" 1t seemed
TO come TO him from the air. de-
moniac echo to his desire. His breath
choked him. She had prayed for him.
purely, unselfshly. How should he
requite? Tonight, for his sake she
had risked reputation. How did he
purpose to repay? Would not the
doing of this thing sink him u thou
sand black leagues below the sky she
breathed? No matter how much she
might come to love, could it recon-
pense for what he would take away2
Between those two lay gulf as deep
as that which stretched between cool
water and a tortured Dives. What
had he, George Gordon, dragging the
chain and ball of a life sentence OF
despair. to do with her in her purity?
He yearned for her because she was
an immaculate thing because she re-
incarnated for him all the white, un-
spotted ideals that he had thrown
| away, that he longed to touch again
II WdS lAlC QCfAl ICAARSAh5 III NAC RANA
of an angel
The mist fell from his eyes.
Child" he said. What you have
done tonight / can never repay.
shall remember it until I die But
am not worthy of your thought-not
worthy of a single throb OF that heart
| of yoursl'
She shook her head protesting.
THAT cannot be true" she contend
ed. But If it were, SignOre. one cam
| not say L WILL or L will not care
when one chooses. Her tone was
: naive. and arch with a smiling. shy
: rebellion.
Listen" he went on. do not think
me jesting. What L say now I say be-
, cause must / want you to promise
. me you will do omething-something
! only for your good. 1 swear that!"
The smile faded from her lips.
chilled by his earnestness-
When you go from here you must
forget that day at La Mira. forget that
[ you came to-night-that we have ever
! metI viii you promise this?''
Her whole mind was a puzzled ques-
ton now. Did he mean she should
. see him no more? Was he quitting
t Venice? The thought came like a
. pang. But to forget! Could she if
she would? Why did he say it was
, for her good? A fear, formless and
: vague. ran through her.
why do you ask that, Signore?"
He turned his face away 1T was
, so much harder than he thought.
| Must he tell her who he was? Could
: he not carry with him this one men,
cry? Must he drink this cup OF
| abnegation to it's last dregs? The very
Z kindness of silence would be cruelty
/, for her. The seed fate had sown,
t watered by mystery, would germinate
: in thorns. He must tell her-ten her
2 now.
r The press of maskers flooding the
: square cireled nearer. and she drew
close. Her hand from under her
: cloak, found his own. suddenly fearful
: feeling bold looks upon them.
/ Bravo la FornarinaP rose jeertng
cry. An exclamation broke from Cor
Q don's lips. A woman had burst from
: the throng like a beautiful embodied
Z storm. Teresa shrank with, sob OF
1 dismay at the vision of flashing black
: ewes and dark hair streaming across