DESTINY



conquered. Every woman has something of restless
yearning in her eyes at some time. To a woman with
great charm and beauty the world sings a siren song.
I saw this thing in your eyes-and soul. I saw it come
and go-and I knew that you had won your fight,
and won through to life's sweetest benison. You have
love. These lives are ended, but yours is beginning."
Then he, too, turned away, and only the girl and young
man were left.
  Mary's beautiful eyes were bright with tears, and,
as she stood there slim and straight, her companion
came close and his arm slipped about her.   For a
moment she seemed unconscious of his presence, then
she turned and her eyes looked steadfastly into his, and
as they looked they smiled through their mistiness.
  "Mary"-the man's voice was earnest and very ten-
der-"Mary, I know that now you're thinking about
other things and they're very sacred things. Besides,
my heart is overflowing and words don't give it enough
power of expression. Since I fell in love with you
life has been all poetry to me-but not a poetry of
words. . . . You    are thinking  of them-"      He
paused and his sober eyes took in the headstones, lin-
gering for a moment on this newest grave upon which
the flowers were banked. They were fine eyes, for in
them dwelt an intrinsic honesty and courage, and,
though it was a moment of deep gravity, the little
wrinkles that ran out from them were assurances that
they were often laughing eyes. This man seemed to
fit into the picture of the hills with the appropriate-
ness of the native-born. In his free-flung shoulders
and broad chest was the health of the open, but on one
finger he wore a heavily carved ring from which glowed
the cool light of a large emerald, and in his scarf was



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