The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-07-30

ILL not every action of life determined for us by circumstances, disposition, heredity, all forces over which we have no control?"
 And after you admit all that, every faculty of your being tells you you are responsible After you have conceded every fatalist argument, you know that it is wrong. And more, you know that when you do wrong you are haunted by remorse, because you feel that you could have done right"
 Right, wrong" said Ricordo. and he laughed in. his soft, insinuating way.
 "You do not believe in them?"
 "Ah, signorina, let us cease 4 to argue. Your faith is a tree which has borne such beautiful flowers and such wondrous fruits that you baffle logic. But then, signofina, you have never lived in hell.''
 Both Herbert Briarfield and Olive cast quick glances at him, but he did not alter his position; he walked quietly on, his eyes fixed on the ground. ! ''I say, Signor Ricordo," said Briar-. field in an expostulating tone.
 That's why I am afraid of the truth" went on Ricordo, without seeming to notice Briarfield. When a man has lived in hell for years. it upsets preconceived notions, it scat ters logic to the winds, it makes con- ventional morality appear to be what it is."
 Olive Castlemaine felt that the man had thrown q kind of spell up- on her. She did not realize that, to say the least, their conversation was not what was natural between people who had met for the first time. Had any one told her the previous day that on meeting a stranger of whom she knew nothing she would enter into a discussion with him on such topics, she would have laughed at it as impossible, yet she felt nothing of the incongruity of the situation. somehow Ricordo seemed like voice of the past. and for a time she for got things present.
 "You have lived-that is-'
 "Yes, Miss Castlemaine, I have lived in hell. I have been deeper in- to it's depths than Dante ever saw. The flames which he saw have burnt ribbed ice,' which Shakespeare spoke of! have crushed out of me all those qualities natural to humanity. Nay, forgot, not all, not all."
 Again Olive Castlemafne shivered. She thought of Leiceseer again, she knew not why. Lately the thought of. him had less and less possessed her mind. A man who had died more than six years before had naturally become more and more only a memory. She could not have told what she thought of him, for this stranger, with his thick black beard and dark skin, bore little resemblance to the pale-faced, clean-shaven man she had known. and loved years ago. Besides, the voice, the manner of speech were different He was cast in a larger mould than Leicester, too, and was older by many years.
 'T am afraid my speech is dis tasteful to you," went on Ricordo, "and I plead your forgiveness. I am not used to your ways, your modes of. expression. And I trust I have not offended you. Believe me, such a thought, such desire is far from me-"
 t'By no means" she said quickly. "I-I am very interested: Doubtless the experiences of those who have lived in other lands are different from, those who spend their lives in sur- roundings such as these.''
 Signor Ricordo cast his eyes quick ly around and beheld one of the fairest tracts of country on earth. Spring had come early, and the burst ing life everywhere made one think of a universal resurrection. All na- ture seemed to be throwing off it's grave-clothes. Woods and hedge rows, fields and gardens seemed to be clothing themselves in a magic mantle before their eyes, while the choirs of heaven were chanting for very joy.
 "I think it must be easy to be good amidst surroundings like these, and on such day as this," said Olive.
 Ricordo stopped suddenly, and lift ed his head. His eyes famed with a new light, his face betrayed passion.
 *What is it all but mockery?" he said-"a promise never to be req lized, the fair skin which covers dis ease-rottenness? Signorina forgive me. But there are spots on earth fairer than this-fairer, yes, a thou sand times. Flowers. foliage, com- pared with which all that you see is but a suggestion The sun, Great Allah. Have you seen an Eastern sun, have you seen the prodigality with which nature scatters her beau ty? But goodness. When did ever natural beauty helD what you call