The Argosy, August 1905 — page 78: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

must be plain She pressed one hand against her fore- head and closed her eyes, thinking. The tumult of her thoughts hurried her on to one inevitable conclusion. It had been there from the first, but only now did she realize it—that there was a pain- ful way, which she must walk in alone! She turned with no haste. Her eyes, seeking his, held him. 4 * Lloyd,” she said faintly, “ there 1s no bridge.” He stood in the center of the room, looking at her. He was like a prisoner at the bar of her judgment. His face under the lamp-light took on weaker lines. *T'm afraid I don’t understand,” he said stiffly. ‘“ You deal in riddles, Eli- nor.” She erushed the window curtain in one white hand. “There is no bridge,” she repeated hurriedly. “1 cannot come to you— you can never come to me—there must always be the space between!” The spell of a pregnant silence held them both. His eyes shifted. Then he looked over at her boldly. *“ What are you trying to get at?” he said sharply. “Do you mean that you have ceased to love me?” She shook her head. “7 still love you, Lloyd—that part of you that is dead and buried in a grave. The part that lives still belongs ‘to Ethel and those others.” He laughed harshly. “You talk wildly, Elinor. The dead have no claim. Ethel—God! Am I never to be rid of her?” She passed her hand wearily across her eyes. * Lloyd,” she said shiveringly, “ we we must understand. As you cheated Ethel you have cheated me! I have clung all these years to a wraith, a memory—to something that had ceased to exist—and to find it out is the bitterest thing I have eyer known.” He stepped uncertainly toward her. His mouth had taken on cruel lines. “And what of me—what of me? . I cross the world to you for noth- THE ARGOSY. sobbed. “Oh, Lloyd, can’t you see it? We are so far apart—so far apart!” He caught her wrist, holding it firmly. “Are you sending me away?” he asked. “Do you mean that? Don’t be afraid—I’m not sure that I even wish to stay! You send too big a flashlight over my soul!” She didn’t answer him, Her eyes were drinking in every detail of the once- loved face for the last time, At length she leaned over, “Lloyd,” she said very gently, “do you mind—going now? ” ’ He dropped her hand. In the gesture was final relinquishment; it was like let- ting a curtain fall between them. When he spoke it was from the other side. “ Perhaps,” he said, “it is as well so. Good-night, Elinor!—and good-by!” She stood in the daze of a broken dream as his footsteps sounded down the length of the hall. When the door closed, she shuddered, and awoke. There were no tears in her eyes. She felt only a sense of desolation—of lone- liness—as one feels when the dead have been taken away. Then with dragging feet she left the room. A little later, as she tossed on a sleep- less bed, she heard her father come in. The sound of his key in the latch brought her the homely comfort of a familiar thing—she realized at the mo- — ment that flowers grow on graves. With — the thought she tried to curtain the © painful vision of the evening. As he passed her door he ealled to her. “Klinor, are you awake? They kept me late at the Davisons’. Martin was there; and I heard news—Lloyd Dere- van is coming back! ” “Yes,” she said; “I know. Good- night!” — She pillowed her head on her arm, staring into the darkness. “Martin,” she sobbed; “ Martin will understand! ” The morning found her calm and- heavy-eved. Ver grief had worn itself out, but she felt like a thing left deso- late by the sweep of son Nt must begin all over ag: | | comicbooks.com