Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1914-Jan 1915)

THE GRIP OF THE PAST 43 fail his girls. "Wait for me, dear. I'll bring her back " And he was gone. Thru the suffocating murk he groped his way, feeling, calling, listening. The roar of the flames was a voice of doom in his ears. The deathshrieks of the abandoned horses bewildered him. As he felt his senses swimming, he stumbled over something that clung to him, babbling and laughing. "It's Belle, Pedro," the girl cried. "I came to find you — to die with you." With a hideous roar the floor behind them fell in. The boards under their feet swayed and billowed. She clutched the man who was trying desperately to lift her. With the red stain on her face and her eyes shameless in the face of death, Belle flung her arms about his neck. "You're mine, mine!" she cried, triumphant. "Dont you see how I love you, now, Pedro ? Look at me ! Am I ugly? Am I true? Am I worth loving? Tell me — never mind the flames. I dont want to live. I want to die with you ! ' ' One instant their eyes locked. Then, with a grim laugh, he swung her to his shoulder and turned. The world reeled. He died a hundred deaths before the door was gained. Under his very feet the wood charred into embers, like slushing ice. The cowhide boots were burned from his feet and his lungs were choked with acrid, smarting smoke before life and the outer world stung his smarting eyes. Silently he gave his burden into her sister's care. Jane knelt beside her with a pitiful look. "Oh, Belle! why did you do it?" she moaned. The other girl brushed back her wild, singed hair and smiled coolly with blackened, bitter lips. " Oh ! I went back to get Lady Jane," she said, "but I couldn't find her." She struggled to one elbow. "Come here, Craven. I suppose it was your miserable cigar — come, speak up " The overseer looked around the circle of faces like a trapped thing. His glance fell on Pedro, and a lie sprang to his tongue. "No; 'twas him yonder — the greaser •" Pedro's eyes flashed. He doubled one fist and would have sprung upon the liar, but Jane held him back. "No, no, dear — dont soil your hands with that coward. No one will believe him." Craven flung caution to the winds. He had long nursed hatred of this lithe, handsome young Spaniard who stood so high in the graces of the ladies. His ugly face was distorted with his revenge. "No one will believe him, eh?" he barked in hatred. "Not if he was to say, for instance, that that Spanish cur has nigger blood in his veins ! Ha, ha ! thought you wouldn 't believe me ! But it's true. Your fine lover is a common half-breed. I knew his mother — a pretty slave-girl she was. But o ' course you dont believe me. ' ' He swung on his heel, chuckling. One by one the others slunk away. Pedro held out his arms, joyously. "Never mind his lies, sweetheart," he cried. ' ' Give me a kiss and tell me you're glad I came back to you." Her lips would not move. At the horror of him in her eyes his eager arms fell. "Why — why — you — know — it isn't true, what that fellow said——" She spoke hoarsely. ' ' Pedro, do you know it isn 't true ? ' ' Silence separated them, like a tangible thing. The chasm of distrust opened at her feet, and looking across it he knew that he had lost her forever. It did not come at once. There were tears, broken words, wavering flickers of faith. She alternately shrank from him and clung to him. But thru it all he saw the end. When it came, she lifted a broken, suffering face to his passive one. "I couldn't bear it — the not knowing, Pedro," she said sadly. "There is no proof — never can be one, now that father is gone. I dont suppose you'll say you forgive me " He held himself in check proudly, tho his arms tried to open toward her.