The Yellow Crayon
  before I can catch even a glimpse of her. Never mind. Let me feel that she has you within the circle, and I without, with our lives devoted to her.”      

       “You may rely upon that,” Felix answered. “Wherever she is I am going. I shall be there. I will watch over her.”      

       Mr. Sabin sighed.     

       “The more difficult task is mine,” he said, “but I have no fear of failure. I shall find her surrounded by spies, by those who are now my enemies. Still, they will find it hard to shake me off. It may be that       they took her from me only out of revenge. If that be so my task will be easier. If there are other dangers which she is called upon to face, it is still possible that they might accept my service instead.”      

       “You would give it?” Felix exclaimed.     

       “To the last drop of blood in my body,” Mr. Sabin answered. “Save for my love for her I am a dead man upon the earth. I have no longer politics or ambition. So the past can easily be expunged. Those who must be her guiding influence shall be mine.”      

       “You will win her back,” Felix said. “I am sure of it.”      

       “I am willing to pay any price on earth,” Mr. Sabin answered. “If they can forget the past I can. I want you to remember this. I want her to know it. I want them to know it. That is all, Felix.”      

       Mr. Sabin leaned back in his seat. He had left this country last a stricken and defeated man, left it with the echoes of his ruined schemes crashing in his ears. He came back to it a man with one purpose only, and that such a purpose as never before had guided him—the love of a       woman. Was it a sign of age, he wondered, this return to the humanities? His life had been full of great schemes, he had wielded often a gigantic influence, more than once he had made history. And now the love of these things had gone from him. Their fascination was powerless to quicken by a single beat his steady pulse. Monarchy or republic—what did he care? It was Lucille he wanted, the woman who had shown him how sweet even defeat might be, who had made these three years of his life so happy that they seemed to have passed in one delightful dream. Were they dead, annihilated, these old ambitions, the old love of great doings, or did       
 Prev. P 48/236 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact