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TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
to hear you say that! Never has woman loved more truly than I love you — you shall never go away alone. Do you think I will let you suffer alone ? I shall be with you always, to comfort your affliction, if you will take me."
"You cannot mean this, dear," he replied tremblingly. "Think what it would mean to be the wife of a blind man. ' '
' ' Think what it would mean to live my life alone, without you," she returned firmly. ' ' You know little of a woman's love if you think I could leave you now."
' ' Then am I indeed a happy man, ' '
declared John, "for I know that you love me truly. Can you bear a great surprise, my sweetheart? Dont be frightened, but take your own dear hands and lift my bandages."
Wonderingly, wavering between doubt and hope, Mary obeyed, lifting the white coverings, with trembling hands. Then she gave a glad cry, for John's eyes were looking into hers, with a message of hope and joy and unutterable love.
"My brave, true love," he whispered, drawing her close, "you are mine now — all mine. I wandered far, and blundered sorely, but I found you at last— it was the Will of Destiny!"
The Awakening
By LILLA B. N. WESTON
One day my bruised and aching feet Upon the highway ceased to beat ; I paused to gaze across the years — What wealth of misery and tears! How barren was my life of sun ! How far removed from every one !
And lo ! to that still veil there came
A host of souls who conquered shame ;
Strong men who strengthened as they fought
With mighty brain for some great thought ;
And women who grew gladly, old
In watching some loved youth unfold.
I wandered, aimless, down the street — It mattered not to what retreat. By chance I drifted to a room, Serene and long, and dim with gloom ; A snowy screen hung smooth and straight, Like some great veil to curtain Fate.
I knew, outside, a fairy ring
Of golden lights were glittering
Upon an ordinary street;
And yet a voice seemed to repeat,
"Behold, the round world overflows
With mortals who, like you, have woes!"
So now I walk no more alone, For at my gate a rose has grown ; And to each one with hope deferred I give a rose and some brave word ; And tho the world may be askew, I have no time to ask — have you?