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A THIEF OF HEARTS
35
"He is dead!" she cried, and her beauty was contorted with strange passion, as if some sleeping depth had been stirred, at last, from a lifelong sleep. "He is dead— dead — and I loved him. Mon Dieu, I loved him !"
Pierre was helpless. The death of Novita was a horrible thing; this savage, raging regret, looking from the eyes of the Bianca, was worse. He sought for some word, some solace, and suddenly he bethought him of the letter. He had imagined it to be from Novita. Perhaps it held some word that would soften the cruel grief, or some gentler feeling might be aroused. Silently he banded it to her. There was a long silence. Pierre could not know, but the soul of Ida Bianca was awakened. Real love had touched her flesh and gone beneath. A man had died for her. Life was warm and glowing and safe and sure. Death was cold and still and irrevocable and unknown. And this man had gone into its depths for the love of her.
She turned to Pierre, and Marthe herself could show no whiter face, no deeper anguish. Then, cold and hard and smitten, hatred looked from her eyes.
"I hate you," she said; "you sing of ice and snow — I hate you. Ze God in Heaven Himself cannot know how much ! Go away — away — and nevaire come again — you — you ! ' '
joy, that the release was final. Never again could Ida Bianca snare his spirit thru his senses; never again could he stoop from the heights to probe the depths. And after many months had come and gone, he met Marthe and told her so. And she was a woman, and she loved him. Because of this, she knew her highest happiness in divine forgiveness, in
With the awakening of the Bianca 's soul had come the reviving spirit of the old Pierre. In her hate he read his release, and he knew, with a glad mine.
SUDDENLY HE BETHOUGHT HIM. OF THE LETTER
healing his hurt soul, in ministering to his need.
"Marthe," he whispered to her, as they dined together the evening of their reuniting, ' ' do you know what I have called you always in my dreams? — My Lady of Heart's High Worship."
"And I, Pierre" — the girl looked at him with the eyes of the Madonna and the warmer light of the womanlove — "always I have called you —
The Light
By C. LEON KELLEY
Out of the darkness— the darkness of night — Pure and brilliant, splendidly bright, Embracing a thousand virtues, serene, Shines the true light — the light of the screen.