THE BARRIER BETWEEN.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XXXXII, Issue 98, 23 May 1900, Page 4

THE BARRIER BETWEEN.

(Continued.)

He comes to himself—he supposes, after a brief insensibility—to learn that he has been ill and delirious for ten days, nursed and cared for by two ladies who chanced to have been passing in their carriage and witnessed the accident. Hi learns that the ladies are spending sonic weeks at the hotel where he lies now, brought thither by their command. Weary and exhausted, Ford falls asleep, and, when he wakes, the ladies themselves are seated by his bed. In one of them he recognizes the girl whose life he saved in the spring; whose strange, magnetic beauty has haunted him with a persistency which no effort of his usually imperious will has been able to shake off. Dizzy, and still half-delirious 'rom the effects of the opiates which have been freely administered, he stares at her and cries: "Am I dreaming, or have I found you ? I know nu>v —I have loved you all the while." He cannot keep awake, however; and, by the time he again rouses, he is in sufficient possession of his senses to talk sanely, arid is no: certain whether that crazy speech he recollecis uttering has been part of his visions or a reality. Miss Upton and her gentle, middle-aged Companion remain until he is pronounced convalescent; but, on the firstday he is able to rise and be dressed, promising himself several hours in her society, one ol the servants brings him a note, saying : " The ladies left, unexpectedly, this morning ; it was so early they wouldn't have yon disturbed to say good-bye." When he is alone, and sufficiently recovered from the stupefaction to see and think, Ford opens the note, and reads : "We are quits now. God bbss you! Farewell!" His first idea is to follow her; and off he will go, as fast as train can carry him, in spite of doctors—everything. The consequence is, he lias a relapse, and lies very ill for ma ly weeks. But as soon u he recovers, he makes inquiries concer itug Miss Upton, and hears that she has g ne to St. Louis. He follows, only to discov :r that she has left for New Orleans. Bu even there he does not overtake her. Sh i and her friend, owing to some unexpected n ;ws, have returned to England. Now he realizes that this Wandering Jew course has be°n a flight worthy of an imbecile escaped from an idiot asylum, and iearns through themedinm of a garrulous acquaintance that Miss Upton had gone to Paris, to choose her troussenn. Another year goes by before memory has found a picture worth putting on its walls—a year ol dtilness, sln.v suffering, heartBtarvation, in the midst of Dives plenty—of made duties and feeble pleasures—let it go ! Then life suddenly assumes colour and brightens its pale routine into brilliant —all effected by another little speech the same acquaintance: )h, no! After all, it was not Geraldine n who married Lord Berwyn ; it was a ve of hers. The other one—the heirAh. "es I Well, the fair Geraldine is snn in cngianu; uue esn never count on tier movements—she is as eccentric as she is handsome!" And for England Ford sails as soon as »ome business matters, into which he has plunged just to pass the time, can be arranged, and got off his hands. Arrived in London, he commits still another blundergets on the wrong track, and goes tc Berlin ! But, after all his disappointments, one gorgeous Easter morning he reaches Rome, and Rome is rendered more beautiful to his eyes Ihan it could have been in the fullest glory of the Caesars, by the fact that Geraldine Upton is there. He tries to write a reasonable letter; he cannot, nor will he wait—he must see her. Sorely, the mutual services they have rendered each other are such as to permit him tocall upon her. He will go. He carries out his intention at once, and reaches the stately old palace where she dwells, to discover that It is her reception day. There are crowds of Carriages at the doors : on the staircase and in the vast salons are uumberless guests, 'from cardinals to merchants: but Ford will jnot turn back. ; He finds her in a little boudoir, surrounded 'by a knot of specially favoured persons, and when his name, which has been echoing like thunder, it seems to him, from one lackey's lips to another—reaches her ears, she rises, and comes forward. She is white as the flowers at her bosom, but calm and graceful as ever; her beauty radiant as of yore—the same sphinx-like smile upon her lips, the same memory-haunted expression in her eyes. "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ford,' she says, holding out her hand. It is cold as death, and her colour does not return, but she is perfectly composed. " This is an unexpected pleasure ! Ah, here is my cousin, Mrs. Rodney—you remember her in Vermont ?" What Ford says he does notfknow; but, with a slight apology, Miss Upton passes, on some magnate's arm, into the centre salon, tnd, for a few moments. Ford stands and listens to Mrs. Rodney s gentle platitudes then can bear it 20 longer., and rushes away. " Going already ?" Miss Upton says, when she encounters him in his flight, much delayed by flounces, furbelows, and all the othei impedimenta of a reception. "You must come to us again! Dear me, dear me, I'm afraid our being in Rome at the same time portends disaster to the old city! But I promise not to set the Tiber boats on fire, if you will agreejto kill no horses, and run no risk to ribs and arms." And he has waited, lived, jouneyed, suffered for this I Ford vows he will never go near her again; but he does, and for a week, morning and evening, haunts every place where he knows he shall find her, though never was man less given to society. She is always cordial; so much so that strangers may think them friends of long standing; still he can never manage to see her alone, and her language is always that ot light badinage and pleasant familiarity. But one day he comes upon her out on the broad Campagna; she* has been driving by herself—has left the carriage for a little stroll. She stands near a moss-grown ruin, gazing, not back at Rome, but across the wide sweep of desert waste—in hereye3 that strange far-off look lying like a shadow. " Geraldine 1" he cries, before she is even aware of his approach. She totters—he throws out his arm ; she waves him off, but he catches her hand, holds it fast, and pours forth his story. " I love you—l love you ! From the first moment we met—and in Vermont—oh, how could you leave me so ? And then I followed you. For a year I thought you married think—think 1 I have no reason to hope, no right, but I love you!" There they stand, conversing for a long hour; but when the twilight begins to gather, cold and gray, they turn to go, and, at last, Geraldine has confessed that she loves liim. " Fate is strong," she says, softly. "-I will struggle no longer—yes, I love you. I had not meant to-marry—my reasons do not matter now ! We know little of each other, ! suppose, but yet I think we know each ■ither better than many friends of a whole life." "We have time; we can talk over everything," he cries. "As for my past—Oh, such a dull, dreary waste " " Never mind the past," she breaks in. " t tell yoi* frankly I never want to think of the past! You will not suppose it holds deed or thought of my own at which I should have cause to blush; but it is painfuldreadful to me—l hold the word in horror." " Let it go, yours and mine," he answers "We have all our future before—Oh, my love, my love!" " All the future; yes, we will have it!" Bhe exclaims, with a strange energy, and so lliey turn homeward. They tell us that time was when angels walked the earth ; hut to Ford comes not the ingel alone—she brings Heaven with her. There are no earthly hues in which to portray the Elysian pictures that the ensuing w«eki present. In the midst of the world they v, 0 manage 10 have n worldapart; freedom ir. spite of al! the restraints upon them; they die for e-ch other, and v.'.'.en a few hours i-eiltabiy elapse without meeting they ex;'..nnve note. The periods which he must dev.-'le ir. sleep are not solitary to Ford, for Hi; carries her so closely in his soul that to tier mer-tai i:T3,'.;e he talks, sleeping or wal.;v,', -.v. I--; y-iv.d if shs were there ia bodily [jrc^iWi,