OCR Text |
Show ff -. - i 1 .f-'T Jr1 'nTTTr; r.r by upt on Sinclair rvlU iVJilli Ly "AiJ "AUTHOR OF "THE JUNGLE" . her up the head sank over upon her, bat the jfirl bit her lips together grimly. She put her arm about the woman1! waist, and David did the same on the other side, and so the three started, stumbling slowly along in the darkness. 'Are you sure that it is not too much for yon I' David asked. "We can stop whenever yon like, Helen.'? ' CopyrHSit. . der, at' the' same time idving'a clasp ."of relief at the discovery thather husband was- not ia trouble. 'Wher lo. Ah,1 world can she have eome from, David! "I do not kn.ow," be answered, "but she probably wandered off the main road. It is some poor, wretched creature," crea-ture," Helen: she has been drinking and is quite helpless." . And Helen stood still in terror, while David arose and came to her. 'You ar out of breath, dear ' he exclaimed, 'twhy 4id yon eome so fasti ' - , Oh, I was so frightened!" the girl panted. "I cannot tell, you, David, jehat happens in, my heart whenever I think of your coming to any harm. It was dreadful, for I knew something aiust be the matter." . . v. David put his arm -about her and iissed her to quiet her fears; then he said: "You ought not to nave com out, dear, but be calm now, for there is nothing to worry you, only we must take care of this poor woman. It is such a sad sight- Helen; I wish that yon bad not eome here.", J What were yon going to do," asked the girl, forgetting herself quickly "in her sympathy. . n "I meant to eome down and -tell yon," was David's reply; "and. then go back to town and get some one to eome and take her away." . But, David, yon can never get back ever that rough road in the darkness! " exclaimed Helen, in alarm; "it's too far for you to walk, even in the daytime day-time I will not let yon do it, you must nott" . ! "But, dear; this poor creature cannot can-not be left here; it will be a bitter cold night and she might die." Helen was . silent for a moment in thought, and then she said in a low, trembling voice: "David, there is only one thing to do." "What is that, dear?" asked the other. We will have to take her home with 118." "Do you know what you are saying say-ing 1 " asked the other with a start; "that would be a fearful thing to do, Helen." "I cannot help it," she replied; "it is the only thing to do. And it would be wicked not to be willing to do that, because she is a woman. "She is in a fearful way. dear," said the other, hesitatingly; 'and to ask you to take eare of her" -- "I would do anything sooner than let you take that walk in such darkness dark-ness as this!" was the girl's reply: and with that statement she silenced all of his objections. And so at last - David pressed her hand and whispered t "Very well, dear, God will bless yon for it." Then for a while the two stood in silence until Helen asked: "Do you think we can carry her poor creature f" "We may try it," the other replied, and Helen went and knelt by the prostrate pros-trate figure. The woman was muttering mutter-ing to nerself, but she seemed to be quite dazed and not to know what was going on about her. Helen did not hesitate hes-itate any longer, but bent over and I strove to lift her. The woman was, fortunately, for-tunately, of a alight build and seemed to be very thin, eo that, with David's help, it was easy to raise her to her feet. It was a fearful task, none the less, for the poor wretch was foul with the mud in which she had been lying and her wet hair was streaming over her shoulders. As Helen strove t6 lift PART IL CHAPTER IL , ; "You can never' lose yourself toe much, little sweetheart " David whispered; whis-pered; "let ns trust to love, and let it grow aD that it will, Helen, I never knew what it was to live nntil I met you never-knew how. life eouii be so .full .and rich and happy. And never, never will, I be able to tell you bow ".much I love you, dearest soul." - "Oh. but I believe you without being be-ing told!" she said, laughing. "Do you now, I could make myself quite " inad .iust with saying over to myself fthat you love me all that I eould ever wish you to love me, all that I could imagine you loving; me J . Ian t tlist true.Davidt" ... ; " ,. . "Yes, that is true," the man replied. -T "But you don't know what a wonderful won-derful imagination I have,"; laughed the girl, rand how hungry for your -lovel am." And she clasped him i to her passionately and cried, David, -yon can make me too happy to " with that thought! I shall have to think . about it all the time that yonare gone, ". and when you eome back I shall be so wonderfully exeited oh oh, David I J: Then she Jaughed eagerly and sprang up.. "You must not stay any longer, she exclaimed, "because it is getting - late; only hurry back, because I can do ; nothing but wait for you. ' ' And so she led him to the door, and kissed him again, and then watched him as he started up the road. He turned and looked at her as she leaned against the railing of the porch, with the glory or 'the sunset falling upon her hair: she made a radiant picture, for her. cheeks 1 were still flushed, and her boson, stiH heaving with the glory of the thought she bad promised to keep. 'There was so much of her love in the look which she kept upon David that it took some resolution to go on and leave her. Ae for Helen, she watched him until ' he had quite disappeared in. the for- est, after which she turned and gazed across the lake at the gold and crimson crim-son mountains. But all the time she j was still thinking; the thought of J Ovid's love; the wonder of it was still A .iher face, and it seemed to lift her -''. Q Until at last she stretched wide nns, and leaned back her head, a4 drank a deep draught of the even-ing even-ing air, whispering aloud, "On, l ao not dare to be as happy as I can! " And she elaeped her arms upon her bosom and laughed a wild laugh of joy. . Later, because it was cold, she turned and went into the house, singing a song to herself" as she moved. - As she went to the piano and sat down she saw upon up-on the rack the little springtime eong of Grieg's that was the first thing she had . ever heard upon David's violin; Bhe played a few bars of it to her-' her-' self, and then she stopped and sat still, lost in the memory which it brought to her mind of the night when she had sat at the window and listened to it, just .after seeing Arthur for the last time. 'And to think that it was only four - or five months ago!" she whispered to " herself. "And how wretched I was!" "I do not believe I could ever be so . unhappy again," she went on, after a while, '.'I know that I eould not while "-I have David!" after which her thoughts, came back into the old, old course of .oy. When she looked at the music again the memory of her grief was gone, and she read in it all of her own love-glory. She played it through again, ana afterward sat quite still, : until the twilight had begun to gather in the room. Helen then rose and lit the lamp ana the fire in the open fireplace: she ' glanced at the clock and saw that more - Than a quarter of an hour had passed, and she said to herself that it could not bo more than that time again before David was back. ".I should go out and meet nim if I were feeling quite strong," she added, as she went to the door and looked out: 'then she exclaimed suddenly: "But oh, I know how I can please him better!" bet-ter!" And the girl went to the table where some of her books were lying and sat down and began very diligently diligent-ly studying, glancing every half minute at the clock and at the door. "I shall ' be too busy even to hear him!" she said, with a sudden burst of glee; and quite delighted with the effect that every time she fancied she heard a step, and then fixed her eyes upon the . ook and put on a look of most eom-yklete eom-yklete absorption. - T Unfortunately for Helen's plan, how-1 how-1 rter, each time it proved to be a false V Alarm; and so tho fifteen minutes passed 1 completelv, and then five, and five again. The girl had quite given up studying by that time, end was garing at the clock and listening to its tieking atd-wondering very much indeed. At last when more .than three-quarters of "' an hour had passed since David had left " she got up and went to the door once more to listen? and as she did not hear anything, she went out on the piaiza, and finally to the road. AU about her was veiled in shadow, which her eyes strove in vain to pierce: and so growing stiD more impatien-she raised her voice and called, "D. David!" and then stood and listened to the rustling of the leaves and the faint lapping of the water on the shore. "That ie -very strange," Helen thought, growing very arixwus indeed. "It is fearfully strange! What in the word can have happened!" And she called again, with no more fesulir than before; until with a wdf.J"0! she turned and passed quickly into the house,-and flinging a wrap, about , ber came out and started down the road. Occasionally she raised ber voice and shouted David's name, but still she got no reply, and her anxiety soon ehanged into alarm, and she was hurrying along, almost in a run. In this way she climbed the long ascent which the road made from the lake shore; and when she had reached the top of it she gathered gath-ered her breath and shouted once more, louder and more excitedly than ever. Thie time she heard the expected r-plv. r-plv. and found that David was only a tew rods ahead of her. "What is the matter!" she called to him. and as he answered that it was nothing, but to come to him, she ran on more alarmed than ever. ..... . . There was just bght enough jor her to see that David was bending down; -td.tben as she got very near she saw fat on the ground in front of him was " ting a dark, shadowy form. As Helen Yred out again to know what was the liiatter, her husband said: "Do not be frightened, dear; it is only some poor old woman that I have found here by the roadside." "A woman! " the girl echoed in woa- i ' ' : v '. |