The Argosy, August 1905 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

THE ARGOSY. trude on you no longer. I can only thank you for all your kindness to me, for the faith you have tried to have im me, for the only words of hope and kind- ness that I shall perhaps ever hear.” “ You ayoided me after you saved my life at the Jordan. Why?” “T cannot tell you.” ie “Had I offended you in any way?” “You? No! You could never of- fend me.” 3 “ Oh, why make a mystery of all this ? Why not be honest with me? Isn’t there enough suffering, enough sorrow in the world without needlessly causing more? ” “Enough sorrow and suffering echoed Mohun, with a mirthless laugh. * Oh, there’s enough of both, If you came here to forget them, you chose a strange place for the purpose. “ Do you know,” he added, his cynical tone changing to one of reverence, “ do you know what garden this is?” ac No.” “Tt is Gethsemane! ” “ Gethsemane?” “The Garden of Sorrows. Was it by chance you came here?” * Yes.” She spoke with a certain awe, recalling the mystic feeling of sur- cease from pain that had stolen upon her the moment her feet had crossed the threshold of the enclosure. * And now,” resumed Ralph, after a pause, “I must go. I shall probably neyer see you again. There is much I would say to yonif I had the right. But J cannot even ask you to think gently of me. So let us say good-by. I suppose you don’t care to shake hands with me?” The appeal in his tone, strangely enough, awakened her slumbering in- dignation. “ How can you ask it?” she said bit- terly. “ You imposed yourself on us, accepted our friendship and became a member of our party without stopping to consider the disgrace and mortifica- tion that might accrue to us when the exposure came and when we should be known as the dupes and associates of a 9 29 ‘ ap have appealed to you this morning person; I have begged you to be honest with me. You owed that, at least, to me and to all of us. You refuse. “T have implored you to return and face the consequences of your act as any man with a spark of honesty and cour- age should. You refuse. I have no alternative but to believe the worst of you. Don’t you know yourself that an honest man could not act as you are doing?” “Yes” assented Mohun heavily, * 1 suppose he couldn’t. And now, if you have quite finished, may 1 go?” CHAPTER IV. FROM PITY TO CONTEMPT. THe reaction from May Farrar’s burst of righteous anger had set in. She was half-inclined to beg his forgiveness for the harshness of her judgment. Yet had he not even now, by his reply, ac- knowledged the justice of that judg- ment? ‘I'he memory of his face as he had looked into her eyes when his strong arms snatched her from death in the quicksands recurred to her with vivid distinctness. “I spoke cruelly,” she said with im- petuous haste. “I forgot for the mo- ment that l owe you my life. I ask your forgiveness.” “There is nothing to forgive,” he re- turned; “and if you feel you owe me anything for what happened at the Jor- dan you can at once cancel the debt and make me happier by forgetting the whole occurrence.” “T can never forget it,” she faltered, instinct and logic warring within her, and with the usual result. = She sank on her knees in the deep grass, buried her face in her hands and broke into a passion of weeping. “Don’t! For God’s sake, don’t!” he . implored brokenly. “I’m not worth it! I’m not worth it, I tell you! ” He bent with outstretched arms as though to gather her to his heart, but by a mighty effort at self-control for- a | comicbooks.com