Rock Island Argus., 1913-02-01

ways few.
Orlando's frown deepened.
Such grief l partly understand"
said he. But time will cure it. Some
day another lovely face"
Wen not talk OF that. Orlando"
No. we'Il not talk of that" acqui /
again, this time to the window. For .
you there's but one woman-and she's
a memory"
KILLED." broke from his brothers
lips slain by her own hand under an !
impulse of wildness and terror! Can I
ever forget that? Do not expect It, 7.
Orlando"
Then you do blame me?' Orlando
turned and was looking full at Oswald, ,
'1 blame your unreasonableness and
your overweening pride"
Orlando stood a moment then
moved towards the door. The heavi-
ness of his step smote upon Oswald's
ear and caused him to exclatm:
Forgive me. Orlando" But the 9th.
er cut him short with an imperative:
Thanks for your candor! If her
spirit ia destined to stand like an i'm
movable shadow between you and me,
I you do right to warn me. But this In
terview must end all allusion to the
subject. | will seek and find another
man TO share my fortunes! (as he said
this he approached suddenly, and took
his papers from the others hand) or
=" Here he hastily retraced his steps
to the door which he softly opened.
"Or," he repeated-but though Oswald
listened for the rest, 1t did not come.
While he waited the other had given
him one deeply concentrated look and
passed out
No heartfelt understanding was pos
sible between these two men.
Crossing the hail. Orlando knocked
at the door of Doris little sitting
room.
No answer. yet she was there. He
knew il in every throbbing fiber of his
body. She was there and quite aware
of his presence; OF this he felt sure;
yet she did not bid him enter. Should
he knock again? Never. but he would
not quit the threshold. not if she kept
him waiting there for hours. Perhaps
meant to open the door to him from
the very first. WHO can tell? What
avails is that she ~ ultimately open
it, and he, meeting her soft eye.
wished from his very heart that his
impulse had led him another way,
even if that way had been to the edge
OF the precipice-and over.
For the face he looked upon was Sc
rene. and there was no serenity in
tim; rather a confusion of uniOosed
passions fearful of barrier and yearn-
ing unanimously for freedom. But,
whatever his revolt, the secret revolt
which makes no show in look or
movement, he kept his ground and
forced a smile of greeting. If her face
was quiet il was also lOyely-too love
; Il. he felt. for man 10 leave it, what
ever might come Of his lingering.
Nothing il Al! his life had ever af-
fected him like it. For him there was
= no other woman in the past. the pres
I ent or the future, ard. realizing this
r taking in to the full what her affection
2 and her trust might be to him in
. those fearsome days TO come, he so
] the courted If women and the admired
= Of men ever since he could remember
I that he failed 10 respond to her vel.
a come and the simple congratulations
1 she felt forced 10 repeat He could
neither speak the commonplace, noI
P listen to it This was his Crucias
j hour. He must find support here, o.
S yield hOpelessIy to the maelstrom in
, whose whirl he was caught
She saw his excitement and faltered
; back a step-a move which she regret
4 ted the next minute, for he took adj
2 vantage Of it to enter and close behind
e him the door which she would never
S have shut of her own accord. Then
i he spoke. abruptly, passiOnately, but
E in those golden tones which no emo
+ tiOn could render other than alluring
? Il am an unhappy man, Miss Scott
q / see that my presence here Is nol
welcome, yet am sure that it would be
/. so if 1t were not for prejudice
which your generous nature shoulC
t 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 o.
r our first meeting. Not to many mer
[ Is it given to find his heart so late
It and when he does, it is for his whole
y life; no second passion can follow 1t
y / know that I am premature in saying
/ this; that you are not prepared tC
r hear such words from me and that /
+, might be wiser for me TO withhold
5 them. but l must leave Derby soon
and I cannot 90 until l know whether
there is the least hope that you vii
o yet lend q light to my career o.
e whether that career must burn ttsel
e 10 ashes at your feet. Oswald-nay
hear me out-Oswald lives in hi
II memories; but l must have an active
d hope-a tangible expectation-if l an
\ to be the man l was meant TO be. VIII
you, then, coldly dismiss me, or vii
d you let my whole future life prove Il
n you the innocence of my past? | vii
not hasten anything: all I ask is som
r indulgence. Time will do the rest"
ID Impossible" she murmuTed
~ -