THE BROKEN COMPACT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9402, 8 January 1894, Page 3

THE BROKEN COMPACT.

[BY HAROLD R. >^NKE.I [From thv. Christmas Number of ■#» AUCKLAND Weekly News.] v *x y They passed slowly along togethe^s* o6B6 two, by the dull, grey water, that 132? e sullenly up almost at their feet. The man'sT eyes, which were bent on the face of the woman who walked at his side, had both ass ion and despair in them. She, for her part, directed her gaze out upon the heaving mass of murky water, and remained silent. As by mutual impulse they stopped and stood facing each other. It was dusk, and they were quite alone. The woman spoke: " It is foolish of you to love me so," she said. " Folly yes," he replied, grasping her hands in his own. " Folly yes, some would so call it. What do I care for opinions—for anything, save my knowledge that to you I owe the supremest joy of my whole life? The mere knowledge that you love me, that you are mine in soul and spirit, compensates me for all the wretchedness that our love entails. Before I loved you I existed. . You have taught me what it is to live % One hour of your sacred companionship is worth a century of existence without it. While you permit me to worship you I am content, even though our lot is so bitter." The woman smiled, and her sweet, childish face flushed slightly at his words. She released one of the tiny jewelled _ hands and gently caressed his cheek with it. "Hove you, she said very softly, " better than my riches, I think— honour, or even life itself." .......... A minute of silence, during which the man's features worked strangely. Then he drew her closely to him, and spoke hoarsely, fiercely: "You say you love me better than life. Do you mean what you say ?" " I do, she answered, making no effort to repel the feverish kisses with which he accompanied the words. " But why do you look at me so strangely ?" " Listen, my love, my Deity," he went on passionately, " it you love as I do you know that life without love is worthless. Yet in loving me you risk honour, position, and peace. There is peril for ourselves and others in every moment that we spend together. For you lam willing to end it all in you I have heaven. I desire to die before it crumbles away before my eyes. Darling, let us die together." He felt the slender form, so perfect in its delicate outlines, shudder in his strong embrace. She made no answer for awhile. She seemed stunned by the awful proposition. But her face flushed again. Her strongest emotion was the womanly one of pride in being loved so well. " Impossible," she whispered at last, nestling even closer to him. "If we should die together what would the world say? But, oh; it would be sweet to die now— way.' " Listen a moment," he replied, "we will not die to-night. Let us take our farewell of the heaven we have known. But to-morrow night, at a moment we shall fix upon, we will die, you in your home, I in mine. In that way, no one will suspect. We shall be separated, it is true, but our souls will take flight at the same instant. In that supreme moment we shall know the culmination of our oy. Do you consent?" Silence again, unbroken only by the dismal ripple of the little waves on the beach. The woman gazed with swimming eyes into the face of the man and received from that passionate glance something of his ghastly project. Then sank half swooning into his arms again, murmuring, "I consent."

" And so I am to die to-night," she mused. It was within half an hour of midnight and the tall lamp, with its orange-hued shade, stood before the taU mirror. Her white gown caught at the waist by a belt of gold, studded with turquoises and cats-eyes, fell graceful folds to her slippered feet, the, polished surface ot her arms and throat shone like marble beneath the rays of a mid-day »un. The sweet but childish features bore the expression of a fixed resolve. If she feared her fate she did not show it. .-. .; . "Ah how he loves me! -'. she thought. "How 'precious, this dying together. Shall we meet up there, I wonder, or do the fables of the priests go for nothing ;.-.■*•;" ;^- What a picture !—this.dazzling, sylph-like creature, standing there in the soft lamplight, every line of her face and figure suggestive of the joyous, radiant life that surged within, and yet calmly contemplating a self-inflicted death within the narrrow limits of thirty minutes. For midnight was the hour agreed upon. ; ; When i the gilded clock on the mantel should chime the hour of t twelve, that little vessel of laudanum would do its deadly .work. * * ■ ->. ><r Her eyes grew humid and i moist ;in the serene contemplation of that dreamless and infinite sleep. She;folded her hands and waited. j . • ,; ?,

..;■■ The gilded clock gave forth three musical peals. A quarter to twelve. ;> i «, •

He lay half dressed on a lounge in the room he occasionally occupied at bis olub, A

little pile of letters that -he had just written and addressed lay on the table. He was very pale. ", , ' ■■■* " . _..'.-.;" w J This was to be the end, then!' dto.wM the gruesome termination, of a love that had been one long, delicious posm! Well, battel so. And yet— '" '"*.''. The hands of the clock marked a.quarter to twelve. Hia pallor increased. r- „ r ';> : .. Last night he was ready to die. ' Was he ready now ;.■ • -.•>•■■<:••>'?.' Standing in the centre of the apartment, ho tried to realise that in five short minutes hia life would end s and oh, the bitterest thought of ailshe would disappear and become aa nothing. Their very love would pass out of existence along with the million million other mu of , e "numerable and unknown dead! The clock chimed the first hour of midmfc ' '■«•* B ti i l .„ h ,° Btood there irresolute. 'Merciful God 1" he gasped,"why do not 1 shoot? . . :> ,■-■■ * .

. He cast down the pistol. ** Coward!" he moaned, " What have you done He flung on his coat, leaped into a carriage, and drove past her house. It was dark and silent as the grave. . He wandered aimlessly about the streets until morning, and then returned, worn out, to his club. . ' -. '

• They met 1 two nights after that at the opera. # She was arrayed in a queenly gown or white satin, over which great gems were scattered like stars. Both blushed. <■ "I was a poltroon," he managed to stammer, "but I am glad of it now." "For my part," she whispered back, "I would not kill myself until I found out it you loved me enough to die for me."