Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1912-12-24

little except Norvin Blake and the effect
had not been calming.
Oliveta soon discovered that her sister
was in a state to receive rather than
give consolation. 80,
"Carissima, YOU are illr' she said, with
concern.
Vittoria assented. cit is my eyes
NV head. The heat is perhaps as much
TO blame as our many worries. she re-
moved her hat and pressing slnederzhnsels
to her throbbing temples, while OllVetta
drew the curtains against the herce rays
of a westerning sun. Later. clad III a
loose silken robe, Vittoria fluns helseA
mon the low couch and her companion
let down her luxuriant masses OF halr
until II enveloped her like a colud. She
Law back upon the cushions in grateIui
relaxation. while Ollveta combed and
brushed the braids, soothing her with
an occasional touch of cool palms OF
straying fingers.
How strange that both our lives should
have been blighted by this mani! the
peasant girl said at length
"Sh-h! You must not think of him so
increasingly" Vittoria warned her.
zones thoughts go where they will
when one is sick and wearied. have
grown to hate everything about me
the people, the life. the country"
sicily is calling you, perhaps?
Oliveta answered eagerly: Yes! You
too, are unhappy, my dearest. Let us
go home Home!" She let her hands fall
idle and stared ahead of her, seeing the
purple hills behind Terranova, the dusty,
gray-green groves of olive trees, the
brilliant fields of sumach, the arbors bent
beneath their weight of blushing fruit
'I want to see the village people again,
my fathers relatives, old Aliandro, and
the notary's little boy
''He must be a well-grown lad by now"
murmured vittoria. "Aliandro, fear, is
dead. But it is long road to Terrano-
va we have-changed.
''Yes-everything has changed. My
happiness has changed to misery, my
hope to despair, my love to hate"
Poor sister, minew Vittoria sympa-
thized BE patient. No wound is too
deep for time to heal The scar will
remain but the pain will disappear. I
should know, for have suffered"
"And do you suffer no longer? 1t has
been a long time since you mentioned
Martel."
For a moment Vittoria remained SILENT
her eyes closed. When she replied it
was not in answer to the question. st
can never return to Sicily, for it would
awaken nothing but distress in me. But
there is no reason why you should not
go if you wish. You have the means,
while all that 1 had has been given to
the Sisters"
Oliveta cried out at this passionately
81 have nothing. That which you gave
me I hold only for you But 1 would
not go alone; shall never leave you"
"Some time you must, my dear Our
parting is not far off"
ST am not sure" The peasant girl
hesitated Deep in your heart do you
hope to find peace inside the walls of
that hospital?"
"Yes-peace, at least; perhaps content
ment and happiness also"
"That is impossible" said Oliveta, at
which Vittoria's hazel eyes flew open.
''Eh? Why not?"
Because you love this signore
BlakeT
"Oliveta! You are losing your wits"
Perhaps. But 1 have not lost my
eyes. AS for him, he loved you even
in Sicily"
what then q
"1e is a fine man. I think you could
hear an echo to the love you cherished
for Martel, If you but listened"
Vittoria gazed at her foster-sister
with look half tender and half stern.
Her voice had lost some Of it's languid
indifference when she replied:
ANY feeling I might have would in
deed be no more than an echo. lam
not like other women; something in me
is dead-it is the power to love as
women love- I am like a person who
energies from a -conflagration, blinded;
the eyes are there but the sight IS
gone"
Perhaps you only sleep. Like the