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Show ,,, !lCUim• pens a lion Gilt> ~ose ant> Sil~>er Out of the wreckage there was one thing he might keep-Isabel. He laughed at the thought that she would accept her release. What would he have done he asked himself, were it she instead of him? Could mutilation, or even death, change his love for her? He was equally sure that hers could not be changed. It was fortunate that she was saved-that it was he instead of Isabel. She had pretty hands -such dear hands as men have loved and kissed since, back in the garden, the First Woman gave hers to the First Man, that he might lead her wheresoever he would. In the midst of the wreckage, he perceived a divine compensation, for Isabel would not fail him-she could not fail him now. Transfigured by tenderness, her coldness changed to the utmost yielding, to-morrow would bring him his goddess, a deeply-loving woman at last. uHow she will come to me," he said to himself, feeling, in fancy, her soft arms around him, and her warm lips on his, while the life-current flowed steadily from her to him and made him a man again, not a weakling. His heart beat with a joy that was almost pain, for he could feel her intoxicating nearness even now. Perhaps her sweet eyes would overflow with the greatness of her love and her tears would fall upon his face when she knelt beside him, to lay her head upon his breast. l "tJo\\? Sbe 1l1lttll <tome to me" "3 "How she will come to me ! " he breathed, in $\\ltd ecstasy. "Ah, how she will come ! " ~Ic:c:p And so, smiling, he slept, as the first shaft of sun that brought his dear To-Morrow fell full upon his face. |