The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1913-02-27

rene, anu tucT0 WAS ~ SeIcAal! III
! him; rather confusion of Embossed
passions fearful of barrier and yesrn
| inx unanimously for freedom. But
! whatever his revolt, the secret revolt
which makes no show in look or
movement, he kept his ground and
! forced q smile of greeting. II her face
was quiet, it was also lovely-too love.
", he felt, for man to leave 1t. what
ever might come of his lingering.
Nothing in all his life had ever at
fected him like it. For him there was
no other woman in the past, the pres
emit or the future, and, realizing this
taking In to the full what her affection
and her trust might be to him in
those fearsome days to come, he 80
dreaded q rebuf-he. who had bees
the courted of women ana the admired
! of men ever since he could remember
that he failed to respond to her well
come and the simple congratulations
she felt forced to repeat. He could
neither speak the commonplace. nor
listen to it. This was his crucial
hour He must find support here, or
yield hopelessly to the maelstrom in
whose whirl he was caught.
She saw his excitement and faltered
back step-a move which she regret
ted the next minute, for he took ad-
vantage of it to enter and close behind
! him the door which she would never
have shut of her own accord. Then
| he spoke, abruptly, passionately, but
in those golden tones which no emo
! ton could render other than ailuring:
Il am an unhappy man, Miss Scott.
I see that my presence here is not
welcome, yet am sure that 1t would be
| so If it were not for prejudice
which your generous nature should
! be the first to cast aside, in face of the
! outspoken confidence of my brother
Oswald. Doris, little Doris, ! love you.
I have loved you from the moment OF
our first meeting. Not to many men
is it given to find his heart SO late,
and when he does, it is for his whole
life; no second passion can follow 1t.
know that am premature In saying
| this; that you are not prepared to
hear such words from me and that 1t
might be wiser for me to withhold
them, but l must leave Derby soon,
and l cannot go until know whether
| there is the least hope that you will
yet lend light to my career or
whether that career must burn itself
| to ashes at your feet. Oswa}d-nay,
hear me out-Oswald lives in his
memories; but must have an active
hope-a tangible expectation-if ! am
to be the man was meant to be. VIII
you, then, coldly dismiss me, or will
you let my whole future life prove to
you the innocence of my past? / will
not hasten anything; all I ask is some
indulgence. Time will do the rest"
Impossible" she murmured.
But that was word for which he
had no ear. He saw that she was
moved, unexpectedly SO; that while
her eyes wandered restlessly at times
towards the door, they ever came back
in.girlish wonder, If not fascination, to
his face, emboldening him SO that he
ventured at last, to add:
Doris, little Doris, l viii teach you
! q marvellous lesson, If you will only
turn your dainty ear my way. Love
such as mine carries infinite treasure
with it. Will you have that treasure
heaped, piled before your feet? Your
lips say no, but your eyes-the truest
eyes 1 ever saw-whisper different
/ language. The day will come when
you will find your joy in the breast of
| of fn tr,rc n
not waiting for disclaimer or even u
glance of reproach from the eyes he
had so wilfully misread, he withdrew
| with a. movement as abrupt as that
with which he had entered.
Why, then, with the memory of this
did the midnight find him in his soli-
tary hangar in the moonlit woods, q
1 deeply depending figure again. Be
side him swung the huge machine
which represented a life of power and
luxury; but he no longer saw it. 1t
called to him with many a creak and
quiet snap-sounds to start his blood
and fire his eye a weekday. a day
ago. But he was deaf to this music
now; the call went unheeded; the fu-
ture had no further meaning for him,
nor did he know or think whether he
sat in light or in darkness; whether
the woods were silent about him, or
painting with life and sound. His
demon had gripped him again and the
final battle was on. There would new
er be another. Mighty as he felt HIM
self to be, there were limits even to
his capacity for endurance. He could
sustain no further conflict. How then
would it end? He never had a doubt
himself: Yet he sat there.
Around him in the forest, the night
owls screeched and innumerable small
things without a name, skurried from
lair to lair.
He heard them not.
Above. the moon rode, fecking the
deepest shadows with the silver from
her half-turned urn, but none of the
soft and healing drops fell upon him
Nature was no longer a goddess, but
an avenger; light a revealer, not 9
solace. Darkness the only boon.