y and old and worn. He
thought his youth had gone from him forever, but what matter? What was
youth without hope? Youth, love, life, all were to be relinquished. He
closed his eyes to the wonder of the hills and the beauty before him,
yet he knew they were there with their marvelous appeal, and he sat
with bowed head.

"'Arry! 'Arry King!" He raised his head, and there before him were all
that he had relinquished--youth, love, life.

He ran and caught her to him, as one who is drowning catches at life.

"You have leave me so coldly, 'Arry King." He pressed her cheek to
his. "You did not even speak to me a little." He kissed her lips. "You
have break my heart." He held her closer to his own. "Why have you
been so cold--like--like the ice--to leave me so hard--like--like--"

"To save you from just this, Amalia. To save you from the touch of my
hand--this is the crime I have fought against."

"No. To love is not crime."

"To dare to love--with the curse on my head that I feel as Cain felt
it--is crime. In the Eye he saw it always--as I--I--see it. To touch
you--it is like bringing the crime and curse on you, and through your
beautiful love making you suffer for it. See, Amalia? It was all I
could do to go out of your life and say nothing." His voice trembled
and his hand quivered as it rested on her hair. "I sat here to fight
it. My heart--my heart that I have not yet learned to conquer--was
pulling me back to you. I was faint and old. I could walk no farther
until the fight was won. Oh, Amalia--Amalia! Leave me alone, with the
curse on my head! It is not yours."

"No, and it is not yours. You have repent. I do not believe that poem
my mother is thinking so great. It is the terror of the ancient ones,
but to-day, no more. Take this. It is for you I bring it. I have wear
it always on my bosom, wear it now on yours."

She quickly unclasped from her neck a threadlike chain of gold, and
drew from her bosom a small ivory crucifix, to which it was attached.
Reaching up, she clasped it around his neck, and thrust the cross in
his bosom. Then, thinking he meant to protest, she seized his hands
and held them, and her words came with the impetuous rush of her
thoughts.

"No charm will help, Amalia. I killed my friend."

"Ah, no, 'Arry King! Take this of me. It is not as you think for one
charm I give it. No. It is for the love of Christ--that you remember
and think of it. For that I wear it. For that I give it to you. If