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THE POWER OF LOVE
137
think what might have happened that day had you not caught me in your arms and "
The sentence was interrupted by two strong hands that suddenly fell upon hers with quivering force and held them fast.
"Oh — oh, Mr. Benham," she whispered, "what are you doing ?— stop, you hurt!"
The man started suddenly backward, releasing the soft hands, the bracelet dropping to the floor.
' ' Forgive me, Mar — excuse me, Miss Fuller," he panted, "I— I forgot. I know I have no right to — to "
"Forgive you, Mr. Benham?" said the girl, coyly; "what for?"
"Why — because I — because I hurt you," he stammered.
"Oh, I dont mind that — I mean," uddenly correcting herself, "I mean it didn't hurt so much, only it came so sudden, you know, that "
"I can stand it no longer," cried Benham, seizing her in his arms and holding her close; "I care not what happens — dear heart, I adore you!"
Margaret gave no answer. How could she, when he held her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe f She sobbed, just a little, but when she looked up, he saw that they were joyous tears. Then he stooped and picked up the fallen bracelet.
"May I put it on for you?" he whispered.
It took a long time to put it on. Somehow, the catch seemed very dif'ficult to adjust, and the man's hands trembled a little. The shy, flushed face was very near to his, as he bent over the dimpled arm, so near that it was hard to tell which one was to blame when their lips suddenly met.
Fuller, coming quietly up to the rear door, looked in, unobserved, and stole away again.
"All's well with the Fuller Construction Company," he chuckled, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "We've weathered the storm. The girl's happy, the strike's off, and I'll have a son-in-law thg^Kl'm not afraid to trust with the girJLand the business. ' '
The Deserted Village
By JOHN WILLIAM KELLETTE
(After Goldsmith— A Long Time After)
The lights within a thousand homes are out —
No gladsome song bursts forth from gifted throat, The pall of death seems hanging o'er the town
And not a sound escapes where one could gloat. The village seems deserted, all have fled —
What dire catastrophe has spread its gloom? To one that's unacquainted it might spell
The visitation of a deathly doom. But, no!
Within an hour or so the lights will gleam
And song pour forth again as strong as old, As 'round the reading table all will sit
Until the tale of night shall have been told — The deeds of nation's brave will sound anew,
And journeys o'er the world will bring life's glow — The neighborhood, you see, will have returned;
Just now they're at the Motion Photoshow.