The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-08-09
 THE MAN
  .WH0 ROSE .AGAIN|
 
 ......by...... JOSEPH ROCKING Copyright, 1909, by George IL Doran Company
JOSEPH ROCKING
......by......
.Onpa ny

|IiIIiIIiIIIiIII ly. She was glad of this mistake which he had made. Somehow ii gave her chance of speaking, ot giving some little expression to the wild tumult of her heart.
 "Of years," repeated the other quickly. "Ah, you do not under stand. I am an Eastern, and ar Eastern thinks long, long thoughts Like every man, I have dreamed o1 the woman I should love, and who should be all and in all to me; and dc you know, signorina, that when out on the sands of the desert, all alone in the night, with the myriads ot stars shining from the clear sky, saw you. Yes, that was years ago I remember it perfectly. No clouds f1ecked the wondrous blue of the sky, no moon shone, and yet the stars made darkness impossible. Noth- ing was to be seen around me but the wide stretch of sand, no sound stirred the silence. And I was alone, all alone with my heart and the Great Spirit of the desert. Then l saw your face, and heard your voice. Ay, as plainly as I have seen and heard this night. I knew I should meet you in reality. I dreamed of tonight then; I dreamed of what should tell you, dreamed of what we should be to each other. Do you wonder, then, at what I felt as I saw the look in Briarfield's eyes, when I heard the laughter in his voice What does he feel to what I feel? ? What are his hopes, his thoughts to mine? And so I come to you, sig norina, and I ask you to forget him. to forget that he ever spoke to you. I ask you, nay, plead with you will you be my wife,"
 Olive could hear the beating of her own heart, and she knew that Her bert Briarfield's pleadings were but as idle words compared with what this man had said. Nay more, she knew that although her fear for him had not left her, she could never marry the honest young Devonshire squire. Whether she loved Ricordo or no she was not sure, but she knew that the thought of him made it inn Tor her to fhiplx of onofbor All distinctions of race, of education, of associations were broken down. There was no such thing as race. This man loved her, and his love stirred her heart in a way she could not understand. Everything was real to her, and yet noth- ing was real. Somehow his voice seemed the voice of long ago. When Herbert Briarfield had spoken to her that day, the thought of her promise to Leicester did not seem real, save when she thought of what Ricordo would say, but now the past became vivid again. She had never felt that she must tell Briarleld anything con- cerning her love for Leicester, but she knew that if she were to prom ise to be the wife of Ricordo, she could hide nothing from him. His eyes would be like the eyes of basil fisk piercing her very soul.
 will. you?" continued Ricordo. "I cc in, al r., I cannot take refusal I cannot conceive that you would cast me in- to darkness. You will fulfill the dream of my life, you will translate the dream into reality. Tell me, signorina, tell me-
 She looked into his face, and was frightened. He looked pale, in spite of years spent under an Eastern sun: his voice quivered, his hands trem- bled.
 "I cannot answer you tonight" she replied. T must have time toto think
 "But when, when?" he asked.
 ''Tomorrow-yes, tomorrow at this time."
 Tomorrow night then-at this time I will be here. Good-night. signorina"
 He walked away without another word. When he reached the park, instead of going down the drive. he turned away towards the golf links. Crossing the River Linden by a lit tie wooden bridge, he climbed the hill, and presently he reached the broad expanse of moors Then. and not until then, did he manifest any feeling whatever.
 No one was near, the great moors were desolated by the night. Birds, and beasts, and flowers were asleep. The night winds swept gently across the spaces. making a kind of sad music. The man laughed aIoud-a wild, harsh laugh. There was a kind of joy in the laugh, but it was unhoIy joy. It was the laugh of a man who believed he had succeeded in an evil thing-such a laugh as Mephisto- pheles uttered when he watched the ruin of Faust and Marguerite.
 For hours he tramped the heathery moors; he seemed to rejoice in the silence of the night in the IoneIinass