San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-08-25

She leaned forward and
tapped the window. Hurry
drive more quickly"
After a moment she said calmly
"We will be there first. 1t will be
hours before anyone can come from
Fairdale."
A nurse met Margaret in the hall.
Mrs. Meadows-yes, you may come"
HE is not dead?"
"Not yet"
CALLED FOR HER
Her lips drew sharp against the
protesting cry of anguish.
The nurse went on quietly: "He
was unconscious at first. He rallied
an hour ago and called for you. He
is passing now"
Through the boom and thudding
that is the muffled roar of coming
grief Margaret heard her words. "He
was driving on the Colma road. An
other machine crowded him at the
curve and a third coming in the OPP
posite direction bore against the two
with binding lights. Mr.. Stewards
ear plunged over the cliff. The driver
responsible for the accident spec
away. The third car brought the in
jured here"
"Was he driving alone:"
"Yes."
Down the long white corridor-the
turning of knob-a form lying on
the bed-the grazing brown of An
drew's massy hair-the bronze of his
thin, harricd face-no light in the
half-shut, dreaming eyes.
A forlorn dependence in the way
his hand lay lifeless on the covers.
To Margaret no one ever looked so
lonely: none had ever such a plead.
ing sadness in their look. Oh, that
her arms were wings-great, shelter
ing vings-that might fold down
about him with a life and peace.
Fear left her heart; she moved
with the serene poise of a spirit
come to claim the dying. She
dropped her hand on his, whispering
in voice that was the very music
of immortal rlin: Andrew - An
drew-do you hear?"
EFFORTS TO SPEAK.
His eyes raised, a spark Pickering
in their hidden depths. He tried to
speak. She dropped on her knees
and pressed her fps to his inert
hands. He seemed pleased; ra-
diant, boyish gladness touched his
mouth. With tremendous effort his
thought struggled for uttcrances.
Margaret wanted those words as
the heart wants its pulse.
She said, leaning close: Speak
Andrew-oh, if you can"
"Pve waited-fcr you-Margaret !;
none but you"
Forms moved in the room; the
door closed softly. They were alone.
Suddenly the gallant look was in his
eyes, but they closed abruptly. Her
hands frightened in a sudden mad
ness on his. She fell forward on her
knees so that her face lay against
his on the pillow.
A faint sound of joS; my darling
thanks !"
1t was so like his old, tender
laugh she trcmbled. She remem-
bcred nights and dHvs-his eyes, his
voice, the melting of their hearts in
anguished rapture. She remem-
bered once reaching her hand to
draw his head to hers, remembered
his exultant sigh: "Ah, Life, Mar.
garet-she owes US nothing, not a
sou!"
She whispcrcd' "Andrew-that
night under the madrones-the sill
YER stars?"
His hand gave answer. 1t went
throbbing through her veins like a
song ANDREW, the mountains when
you came?"
81 hear"
"Andrew-all your dear, dear good
ness"
"Ah-don't-"
Then suddenly the scene Of the
morning flashed with stcel-cruel
brightness to her mind. Only this
very morning he clasped her in his
arms. Now she remembered the
hcart-picrcing quiet Of his eyes; the
beseechinf prayer that was in his
voice; remembered suddenly, the APP
palling sense Of doom that fell upon
her when he said: Dear life of mine;
| do not know why am saying
this, but II ii is farewell, my dear
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