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"I have never heard even the sound
of .your voice."
She turned and looked at him,
touching with idle fingers the soft
hair curling on her temples.
"Because," he said humbly, "these
fong years of silent recognition count
for something! And then the strange
ness Of it! the fate of it the quiet
destiny that ruled our lives that
rules them.now now as I am speak
ing, weighting every second with its
tiny burden of fate."
She straightened up, lifting her
half-buried hand from the moss.
"Three years that end today end
with the new moon," he said. "Do
"Yes," she said.
He quivered at the sound of her
voice. "You were there, just beyond
those oaks," he said, eagerly. "The
road turns there "
"Turns by the cemetery," she mur
murder. "Yes, yes, by the cemetery! You
had been there, I think."
"Do you remember that?" she
"I have never forgotten neyer!"
he repeated, striving to hold her eyes
to his own; "it was not twilight; there
was a glimmer of day in the west,
and the new moon lay in the sky, and
the evening was very clear and still."
"The second time I saw you was
in New York," he said "only a
glimpse of your face in the crowd
but I knew you.'
"I saw you," she mused.
"Did you," he cried, enchanted. "I
dared not believe that you recognized
"Yes, I knew you. . . . Tell me
The thrilling voice set him aflame;
faint danger signals tinted her-face
MIn December," he went on un
steadily, "I saw you in Paris I saw
only you amid the thousand faces in
the candlelight of Notre Dame." '
"And I saw you. . . . And then?"
4JAad.then iwo,mojitiis, ,of.idark-
"Wot you doin, Pete?"
"Sh-h! I gotta fine job. The feller
wot runs the hotel pays me $15 a
week to be the Hermit of Scrub Oak
Hill. The people comes up here by
the dozen to look at me, an' I'm
smokin' good cigars the whole day
Jo5-" j l
ness. . . . And at last a light
moonlight and you on the terrace at
"And .... you, there in the
"At Archangel? Yes, it was I."
"On the Goryn?"
"It was I. . . . And I am here at
last with you. It is our destiny."
So, kneeling there beside her in the
shadow of the pines, she absolved
him in their dim confessional, hokK
ing him guiltless under the destiny
that awaits us all.
Made prisoner by love, adoring her,
fearing her, he knelt beside her,
knowing already 'that she had sur
rendered, though fearful yet by word
or gesture or a glance to claim what
destiny was holding for him hold
ing securely, inexorably, for him
(To be concluded Monday.)
SOME SOFT SNAP
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