Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-06-14

he said The hour has struck which God
ordained for us both. Beatrice, / may
tell you now what You have surely known
since the day we stood together before the
altar love YOU. You are the first and
last woman in my world" His voice
pierced through 10 her senses through
waves of roaring. confusing sound. Her
heart beat till it became unbearable tor
ture. do you remember that second
evening"" he went on. THE priest tried
but | spoke to him and he let you pass.
You asked me what | had said, but |
would not tell you-not then. Now may:
This is the woman whom God has given
She flung his hand violently from her.
You must not say that.' she cried.
with desperate resolution. You must
not say that sort of thfng-to me-
why should l not? love YOU"
You must not love me. II am to be
Capt Staffords WIFE"
"Beatrice." His cry Of incredulous pain
drove her to frantic measures.
1T is true. / swear it,
Then it was all over He made no pro-
test. He rode by her side as though he
had been turned to stone, rigidly upright,
| his hand hanging lifeless at his side, his
, face expressionless. She felt that she
had struck right at his life's vitality
| that she had killed him. Yet Ii was not
remorse that blinded her till the white
| road became a shimmering blur-it was
a frightful personal pain which was hers
and hers alone. Neither spoke. They
passed a crowd of natives returning to
| the bazaar. They salaamed, but Nehal
| Singh made no response, as was his wont.
| He did not seem to see them. Mechan-
ically he guided his horse through the
| bowling crowd. The silence became I'M
bearable. She had fiippantly told herself
! that as long as he did not make a
scene" she would be satisfied. He had
| not made a scene From the moment
| that she had made her final declaration
| he had not spoken, and now she was
| praying that he would say something to
| her-anything, she did not care what. only
| not that terrible accusatory silence. AT
last. in desperation. she began to make IT
up with him as she had planned-1n an IN
| coherent, helpless way.
Il have hurt YOU" she stammered
| Forgive mel did not mean to. 1t has
| all been a cruel mistake. l looked upon
| you as a friend. How could | tell that
you meant more than that? II ! have
deceived you. l can only ask you with all
my heart to forgive me-
| He turned his head and looked at her.
His eyes were dull and clouded. as though
film had been drawn across them.
swered, quietly. II have deceived my
self. I thought 1 was following great
| Godsent light 1t was nothing more than
a FREELY glittering through my darkness
You are not to blame
He was already casting contempt at the
| influence which she had exercised over
him; he was cutting himself free from
her-as she had desired. as was inevitable
Yet, with a foolish. senseless anger, she
sought to draw him back to her and hold
him. If only by the reverence for what
! had been.
do not despise our friendship" she
| pleaded. IF it has not been what you
thought 1t was. has 1t any the less opened
the gates OF heaven and earth, as you
said? What l have given you is good
the very best had to give. The ideal
was high one. helped you toward It
was only friendsiiip-hscansa It eouldn'i