SUPPLEMENT TO THE POVERTY BAY HERALD, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1906.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10770, 15 September 1906, Page 5

SUPPLEMENT TO THE POVERTY BAY HERALD, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1906.

make it so hard for mo to do what is | right. 1 won't lu> dishonorable. 1 won't I be disloyal, I won't be untrue. Happiness that ionics from wrong-doing is always hriel. but, oh. dear lad, 1 love I you, with a love nobody ever had before or ever will have again. I'm not taking anything away from anybody else to give 1o you, so it' isn't dishonorable — it can't be.* Tell me it isn't!" she cried, "oh. tell me !" "It isn't," he assured her. "You couldn't be dishonorable if you tried. You're the brav.'st, finest woman I've ever known." From within came the notes of a violin, muted. The piano, mercifully softened, followed the melody with the full, rich accompaniment which even miserable playing can never wholly spoil. The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, Are as a string of pearls to mo ; I count them over, every one apart — My rosary ! My rosary ! "The pearls mean tears," she whispered brokenly. "Our rosary is made of tears !" The lady from Memphis clattered past them on the balcony, singing the words apparently to herself, but really with an eye to dramatic — and impertinent — effect. For a week, they had been together, the gayest of a gay crowd. That day, all plans had mysteriously fallen through. "Lady Jane, the beautiful Kentuekian, who had, been unanimously elected chaperon, had been summoned home by a telegram. A letter had caused another unexpected departure, a . forgot - i ten engagement loomed up 'before another, a sick headache laid low a fourth, and only they two were left — "the tattered remnant of the old guard," she laughingly said that morning, when they met in the palm-room after breakfast, as usual, to discuss the programme of the day. "Then," he retorted, "the old guard will make the best of it." So they had spent the day together, in public places, mindful of the proprieties. A long talk in the afternoon, full of intimate and searching details, had paved the way for the dazzling revelation made by an accidental touching of hands. In an instant, the world was changed. "Suppose," she said, "that you had been obliged to go away this afternoon, before everything was fully acknowledged between us? Oh, my dear, don't you see what we have? We've got one whole day — a little laughter and a great deal of love and pain, crystallized by parting and denial into something sweet to keep in our hearts for always. Nothing can take to-day away from us — it's ours', beyond the reach of estrangement of change. To-night we'll shut the door upon it and steal away, as from a casket enshrining the dead. "Not dead," he flashed bitterly, "but buried alive !" Oh, memories that bless and burn, Oh, barren gain and bitter loss, I kiss each bead and strive at last to learn To kiss the cross, sweetheart ! To kiss the cross ! The last echo died away, the violin rattled into its case, the piano was closed. The musicians went home, and there was a general movement toward the doors. A far clock chimed twelve and she rose wearily from her chair. "Good night," she faltered, her hand fluttering toward his; "I cannot say good- bye, but we must never see each other again." How it happened, they never knew, but he took her into his arms, unresisting, and kissed her fully, passionately, upon the lips All the joy and pain of the' world seeiued crowded into the instant they stood there, locked in each other's arms. Then the high, bird-like voice of the lady from Memphis broke on their ears in a grating staccato. "She was out here when I saw her last, flirting dreadfully with the war correspondent. I guess she didn't know you were 'coming on that late train." Eagerly, happily, the Other Man rushed out on the balcony, crying boyishly, "Mabel! Are you here'" The words died on his lips. The man who held her in his arms kissed her again, slowly, hungrily ; then reluctantly released her. She steadied herself against the railing of the balcony. In the moonlight her face was ghastly. The scent of the orange blossoms seemed overpowering her with deadly fragrance. "Didn't I tell you?" asked the lady from Memphis gleefully. From the open window, she was enjoying the situation to the full. The Other Man was bewildered. "Mabel," he said inquiringly, "I don't quite understand. Didn't you get my, wire?" The war correspondent stepped forward. He had faced the guns of the enemy before and was not afraid now. A single commanding glance, mingled with scorn, sent tha lady from Memphis scurrying back into the ] aim-room. "I know who you are;" he said to the Other Man, "and I owe you an explanation. I love Miss Ward and I have been trying all day to induce her to break her engagement with you and marry me instead." The Other Man laughed. He went to the balcony rail where the girl stood, half -fainting, and put his arm around her. "I don't doubt it," he said. "Isn't she the finest, truest, sweetest woman tht Lord ever made? Any man who doesn't love her is a chump. You and I will be good friends — we have a great deal in common." He offered his hand, but the war correspondent bowed and swerved aside. "Good night," he said thickly. "I have played and%>st. I lay down my hand.' He went through the window' hastily, leaving the two alone. "Mabel, clear Mabel!" said the Other Man softly. "You've been through something that has been almost too much for you. Sit down and rest — you're tired !" The words calm, and tender, brought back to her tortured: soul a hint of the old peace. In a pitiless flash of insight, she saw before her two women, either of whom she might become. One was serene and content, deeply and faithfullyloved, sheltered from everything Love could shield her from, watched, taken care of in all the countless little ways that mean so much. The other was to knowLife to its uttermost, all its rage, jealousy and despair, to be shaken in body and soul by fierce elemental passions, to face eclipsing miseries alone, and drain the cup to the lees. The difference was precisely that between a pleasure craft, anchored in a sunny harbor, and the toiling ship that breasts the tempestuous seas. She sat down and suffered him to take her hand. He stroked her wrist silently, in the old and comforting way he had when she was nervous or tired. His face was troubled — hers was working piteously. The lights died down in the palmroom and the last of the revellers went away. The house detective paced through the long room twice and made a careful survey of the balcony. "Darling," said the Other Man, "you don t have to tell me anything you don't want to— you know that; but wouldn't it make you feel better? You've always told me things, and I'm the oest friend you've got. Surely you're not afran now?" His voice failed him at the end, and the girl drew a quick, shuddering breath, but she did not answer. "He was kissing you, wasn't he," asked the Other Man, "when I came?" "Yes," she sail dully," "he was kissing me. but it was for goodbye. He told me he loved me and 1 had told him I loved him. I've known him only a week. He never so much as touched my hand until to-day, but it was only my own personal honor that kept me from marrying him tomorrow, as he begged me to do. I've told you the worst now. Believe what you Jikc — do what you will." The Other Man sighed. His mouth was boyish and for the moment unsteady, but his eyes sought hers, as Honestly and clearly as the war corerspondent's, who had unusual eyes — for a man. "I think I understand," he said brokenly. "I don't blame any man for loving you, dear — I'm prepared for that — and we've been separated .so long and the moonlight and the palms and the roses and all, and you were used to being loved — I think that's why. You were lonesome, weren't you, sweetheart? Didn't you want me?' ' Infinite love and infinite pain surged together in her heart, blending into unspeakable tenderness "Yes, I wanted you," she whispeied. "I always want you. I'm — I'm a bit upset just now, But I haven't taken anything away from you to give to anybody else. It's only an undiscovered country — a big one — that he found to-day. I haven't been intentionally dishonorable. 1 fought, but it was no use — he simply swept me off my feet. Forgive me, if you can !" "Hush ! There'll never be any need of that word between you and me. I've forgiven you, long ago, for everything you've ever done or ever can do. It's an unlimited fund to draw on — that and my love. You know, he went on, in another tone, "that, if it was for your hap jpiness, I could give you up, but I'm pretty sure it isn't. You'd never be as happy with anybody vou'd only known a week, as you would with me, because I've loved you for years. "You have my whole heart, MaLel — there's never been' another woman with even the hint of a claim. I know all your l'ttle moods and tenses, and you don't have to explain things to me. 1 know you can't ride backward and the touch of satin makes you nervous, and that you don't like to walk when you have high-heeled shoes on, and a -thousand other little things that are infinitely dear just because they ax - e you. I was., thinking of them all the way down here, and loving them — every one." "I don't deserve it," she answered, and then broke into wild sobbing. Other Man moved his chair closer Bid drew her head to his shoulder. HtThere-," he said, slipping a clean handHrchief into the hand that covered* her "cry if you want to. You're tired — Hy litle girl is tired.'' held her so until the storm spent ritkftlf.v He kent his face atrainst her. hair,,,