The Parma herald. (Parma, Idaho) 1903-1917, 1916-08-10

1t was Colonel Destinn's great forced
march south-one hundred and fifty
kilometers In three days. Many of us
died on the road"
she laughed suddenly. She had the
odd feeling that there was third per-
son In the room-a black faceless
shadow that had laughed with her. She
had to make . great effort to regain
her composurs.
"Yes-and then r
"Afterward they allowed me to 90
back and fetch his body. l did not
know his real name, but he had given
me the locket, and 1t occurred to me
that II ever bis people knew they
would be. glad that he had not been
left out there-alone. He Hes in the
Legion's Philip Grey, No.
8112."
Yes-I remember-thank you"
She did not see him 60. She dressed
quickly and went out into the court
yard A voice called her by name
with monotonous persistency, but she
didn't hear It, There was a woman
with flowers to sell standing hesitantly
In the passage, but she did not see her.
She had grown deaf ard blind to the
present. She was looking back along
the road she had come, and she saw
the fate she had invoked stalking in
visible beside her.
Sylvia! Sylviar'
The nower-girl still stood in the
shadowy passage. Imperturbably. with
fnscrutable eyes, she watched Sylvia
Arnaud's ngure stand out for a mo-
ment against the sunlIt avenue and
disappear.
"Sylviar'
Phillip Grey. No. s112. Legion
Etrangere."
Sylvia knelt, with clasped hands, and
gased at the roughly-cut letters.
Around her and above her sea of
crosses lifted up their gaunt black
arms-hundreds upon hundreds, In the
voiceless identical duplication Of for
gotten things. She prayed softly. She
did not cry. She felt herself surround
ed with peace that was above tears.
Little by little the flood was flowing
back on its old course She was think
Ing what she should say to Destinn
when he came to claim her She would
rise up and point to this piteous I'M
tended mound. "This lies between
u.s." she would say to him. She would
not curse him. In expiation she
would claim Richard Farquhar's life.
She would go back to her husband; she
would take up the broken threads and
weave them to the perfect pattern She
would carry with her the memory Of
that brief glimpse of her own soul, of
her own love. The dead are not In
vain-it was beautiful thought
Steps sounded on the gravel path
way. She looked up. but 1t was not
Destfnn who came toward her. 1t was
the nower-seller. her basket crowded
with fresh blossoms.
Roses, madame? Roses to offer to
the dear deadT
All, yes. thank you. Give me all
that you have"
She covered the low mound with COR
geous red and gold. The beauty of 1t
" eaiS Shuhcc-uiteu her SrleI Oh
soft wings to a gentle, almost happy
resignation. She said, smIlingly. II
shall come every day, and every day
you must bring me all your flowers"
She wondered what 1t was-what
had come over her. Something had
happened. There had been sharp.
Insignificant little pain between her
'houiders-a mere nothing. She caught
Ter breath; 1t hurt her. and she turned
slowly. her eyes wide open with
childish amazement
What has happenedYr
The woman opposite her said moth
ng- Her face, through the rising mist.
vas blank. unreadable Sylvia put her
myers to her lips-she did not know
Why she had done so; she saw now
hat there WAS blood on her fingers.
She remembered that she had kissed
me Of the roses. Perhaps it had bled.
She tried to turn back again. Her
limbs were curIously heavy4almost
eaden- Then she dropped. face down
ward, amid the scattered roses.
(To BE CONTINUED)