Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1911-03-31
By Halle Erminie Rives.
CHAPTER XII.

horizon, where the cloud-bank frayed
away, one white constellation swung
low, a cluster of lamps in golden chains.
But Daunt's thought had no place for
the delicate beauty Of the night
How long he sat there with bowed
head he could not have told, but at
length he rose heavily to his feet. AS
no did so he became aware of a sound
below him-a football, coming toward
him 1t crossed bar Of the moonlight.
He shrank and a tremor ran over
him, for it was Barbara.
She had thrown over her loose
| cloak, and a bit of soft, cling1ng lace
showed between it's dark edges. Her
brilliant hair was loosely gathered in
single braid, and in the moonlight IL
shone like beaten copper against the
vivid pallor of her face He sat STIR
less. smitten with confusion, conscious
| that a movement must betray him. A
painful embarrassment enveloped him, a
| fastidious sense of shrinking from her
sight of him. He felt a dull wave OF
resentment that an antic irony of cir
cupnstance should have brought them
beneath the same roof-to make him
seem the moody pursuer, the unwelcome
trespasser on her reserve-and that now
thrust him into a position which at any
hazard he would have Stunned. But all
thought of himself all feeling save one
vanished, when, with sudden piteous
abandon. she threw herself on her
knees by the bench and broke into slow
sobs, shuddering and fearless.
In that outbreak of emotion, were not
alone the pent-up pain and humiliation
she had suffered. or the desperate joy
of that evenings knowledge. There
were in it, too grief and conjunction,
dsmay and doubt of the future. She
was engaged to Austen Ware. Would
Daunt ever forgive? Would he want
her-now? In the first realization of
her error, wound with the knowledge
that he was so near her, she had felt
only joy; but in the silence of her room,
shock on shock had come the incredu-
lous question, the burning revulslon. A
while she had lain wide-eyed, but at
length, sleepless, she had stolen out to
the balmy, fragrant night, craving its
peace, longing passionately for its soft
shadows and the lowering touch of the
mountains breath on her hair And in
it's friendly shadows the gust of feeling
had swept her from her feet.
The action took Daunt wholly by sur
prise. The sound tore his heart like a
ruthless talon, and drew hoarse word
from his lips:
Barbara? 1t was little more than a
whisper, but she sprang erect with a
gasp. her breath labored and terror
stricken.
FL beg pardon" he said. with a
dry catch in his throat. Don't be
frightened. 1 will go at once. / should
not have stayed. But you came so sud-
denly, and did not dream-I-"
How strange that you should have
been herer She thought he must hear
the loud drumming of her pulse.
He laughed-a hard, colorless little
| laugh. YES" he answered, "it seems
So"
A mist blinded her eyes, for his tone
carried to her, even more sharply than
had the look she had seen from the
balcony, a sense of the pain he had un-
dergone. In what words could she tell
him?
You have been suffering she said in
low voice. 81 see that. And it was
my fault
He gathered himself together with an
effort of will, to still the tingle that
flashed along his nerves. ut was quite
sane and right, no doubt" he said.
when 1 have leaI ned to be honest
enough with myself, / shall see it so.
My mistake was in ever dreaming that
I was worth one of your thoughts or
a, single seconds memory
/ She turned her head abruptly. do
you hear some one talking? 1 thought
heard it as l came up the path-like
some one muttering to himself"
! He listened, but there was no sound.
81 must have imagined it," she said
There was a moments pause, and pres
emily she went on:
"You have been thinking hard things
of me. 1t is natural that you should
And yet I-whatever you think-what-
ever you do-that day in the cave, was
not-was not"
you were nothing you should not
have BEEN" he replied rapidly. Her
voice had sent a tremor over him-he
4 felt ii with a new wave of the morning S
contempt. ct understand. There is
nothing for you to justify, nothing to
I regret"
She shook her head. 1--WE have left
undone those things which we ought
to have DONE" she quoted in low voice
'and have done those things which
we ought not to have done. and there
is no health in us. We all recite that
every Sunday. I have something now
to confess to you. Won't you stand
there in the light? II want to see
your face"
He stepped slowly into a bar of moon
light.
why" she said, you have hurt your
| hand!" She made a quick step toward
him, her eyes on the stained bandage.
ut is nothing" he said hastily. 81
struck II a little while ago. What"
He turned. suddenly alert. A SHARP
whistle had sounded below them, and
bright points here and there pricked the
gloom. "They have turned on the tree
lights" he said. There was a sound OF
voices on. the path. Some one ran across
the foot-bridge.
Something has happened she said
what can 1t be?'
He made no reply. There had flashed
to him a quick realization of the posi-
ton in which, unwittingly, they had
placed themselves. She must not be seer
at such an hour, in that lonely spot
with himl He knew the canons of the
world he lived in! With hushed WORD
he drew her back into the shadow
The voices were speaking in Japanese