66 



THE A ME It J CAN BEE-KEEPER 



March 



Bhould reap sucti louelyjears in punish - 

 merit?" Then he moved toward her, his 

 arms outstretched : "My love, my lost 

 love! Give me one kiss, my first since 

 that other grave closed over us. " 



Ann Quinu gulped, and her hair rose 

 softly. "If you touch me, I'llkill you!" 

 she said hoarsely, catching a knife up 

 from the shelf behind her. The man 

 seemed not to hear her ; he grasped her 

 in his arms and crushed his mouth on 

 hers, and his lips were wet and cold. 



Ann Quinn leaped away from him and 

 buried the great knife in his heart. He 

 looked into her terrified eyes, and a 

 shadow fell on his face. 



"See," he said mournfully, "you 

 have stabbed me — again ; but this time 

 it is to. late. " 



She looked, and there was no blood 

 gushing from that great slash — only the 

 drip, drip of the thick water. Then she 

 covered her face and prayed, for she saw 

 that the man was dead. 



There was a long silence, broken by 

 the chime of a clock in the house behind 

 them. The man shivered. "An hour 

 more, dear God, only an hour more!" 

 he pleaded, and he wrung his hands, 

 crying hurriedly : "How can I say it all! 

 How can I make her understand !" He 

 seized Ann Quinn's arm and shook her 

 fiercely. 



"Remember, woman! Try to remem- 

 ber ! Have I forgotten? Havel not lived 

 alone — waiting — and you never came?" 



She brushed her rough hand over her 

 eyes, something stirred in her torpid 

 brain. As the summer lightning, thread- 

 ing the sky, will show a sudden pearly 

 perspective of unseen cloud mass, theu 

 flash out, leading the saiiii- L"jd uigilit it 

 found, so the soul of Ann ^>Liiun opened 

 for an instant beyond her wretched, worlc 

 ridden world, only to cK e again as 

 quickly. The man caught her look and 

 asked, his voice teuse and quivering: 



"Those faded lilies of the valley, 

 there in that cup, why did you keep 

 them only from the flowers you threw 

 away this morning?" 



"They — they — smelled good," an- 

 swered thowTjisiG, troubled, bewildered. 



"Only that?" 



"Yes, only that." 



"Have you never dreamed of some 

 one you loved, some one apart from this 

 miserable squalor I find you in?" 



The blood flooded her sallow face. 



"What business is that of yours? Go 

 away, I say!" she added weakly, giving 

 him a push and catching at the table to 

 save herself from falling. 



"Tell me," he pleaded, "have you 

 never missed me, who was more to you 

 those few short years ago than life or 

 honor?" 



Ann Quinn looked into his eyes and 

 laughed. There was no mirth in that 

 laugh, though, and he shielded himself 

 as it she had struck at him. Then he 

 spoke again. 



"Listen," he said. "Tonight in a far 

 land my soul will be born anew. Until 

 then the veil is lifted. But we will 

 cheiit God and love and law — you and 

 I together. Soon my eyes will be blind- 

 ed, and I shall not know you except by 

 this. Take it and keep it always over 

 your heart, and though you be old and 

 bent, and though you be a little child, 

 still I shall kujw you. " 



Ho thrust his hand into his breast and 

 drew out a leather case. He opened it 

 and pushed something toward her. She 

 looked. It was a faded spray of lily of 

 the valley. Then he reached into hie 

 pocket and threw a canvas bag down on 

 the table. "Take these," he said. 

 "There is enough here to keep you from 

 this drudgery. " He pointed to the iron- 

 ing. "And now I must begone. The 

 river calls to me. " 



They stood looking at each other in 

 silence. The light swam before Ann 

 Quinn's eyes, and everything blurred but 

 that white face staring into hers. Near- 

 er it came, ever nearer, and she felt her 

 muscles quiver in resistance, then grow 

 lax ; there was a pause, a gasping breath, 

 and she had thrown herself into his 

 arms. The cold ooze from his wet hair 

 trailed on her neck. Closer and closer 

 they swayed together, locked in each 

 other's arms; then, with a strange, thin 

 cry, like the wail of a newborn child, 

 the man tore himself away and leaped 

 from the window into the night beyond. 

 There was a heavy splash and silence. 



The wind had blown out the lamp. 

 Ann Qaiuu groped her way to the table, 

 dazed and stupid. She struck a match. 

 It sputtered and went out. Theu she 

 crawled away into a corner, her wide 

 eyes fixed on the open window. The 

 moon swam high, and the river ran 

 molten silver beneath it. The little stars 



