THE CHEMIST.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11229, 25 November 1899, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE CHEMIST.

"It is so long in coining," she sobbed softly. " I cannot bear the pain as I did at first—l cannot smile when it comes. Oh, let me go, let me go, before I am ugly with it, and before I say things that you will hate to remember when lam gone. Let me go, before you wish me away!" The Chemist for some time said nothing in reply. He held her two hands in his, while his face was hidden in the bed-clothes; but the quivering of his body made the bed tremble. Then, at last, he lifted his head, and spoke as he had never spoken before. He arguments he used were only those that would have occurred to most people. He spoke of the general belief that suicide is impious, and bears a heavy punishment. .. " Who really knows what is to come" he ended. "It may be that if you take it upon yourself to govern these things, you lessen our chance of ever meeting again— you leave me alone, with nothing but that fear before me. Repent, now, of your selfishness, and promise, as you love me, never to dream of such an act as even possible!" Love is often selfish, and a cool judge might have seen selfishness in most of the argument which the Chemist used. He saw it himself; but the woman found only love and heard love, and nothing else, in his voice, which indeed appealed to her far more strongly than any woras. She still sobbed, but now only as a tired child sobs itself to sleep in a forgiving mother's'arms, " You do love me still?" she said. "More than my own soul," the Chemist told her; and she, even while tenderly scolding him for saying so, sighed and fell contentedly asleep When ha rose, as at last he did, he gave himself no further time for consideration, no moment for doubt, which might be reflected from his mind to hers. Everything had been considered fully and finally, an hour ago among the crucibles. He ppured out medicine at its appointed time, and, with a steady hand, added what he had brought from the laboratory. Then smiling, he bent and woke her. " Oh, I have had such sleep, such pleasant dreams!" she told him, sighing, still half asleep. " Drink, and dream again," said the Chemist softly. He supported her with one arm about her body (oh, so thin!), and he held the glass to her lips. As she drank, he felt one strong shudder pass through her, and then, suddenly, she was a dead weight on his arm. " If any soul be lost, it will not be yours 1" whispered the Chemist a moment later, as he laid the body down,—Riccardo Stephens, ,in -the Butterfly. ; , . . -