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Woodrow, Nancy Mann Waddel, 1870-1935

"The Black Pearl"


You will soon forget this hut in the mountains, and--and all that it has
meant." He buried his head in his arms.
She, too, rose and laid the handful of her jewels on the table without
another glance at them. "These mountains!" She threw wide her arms and
drew a long, ecstatic breath. She came near to him and touched his arm.
"I hated them once, I love them now." She smiled up at him, her darkly
slumbrous, scarlet-lipped smile.
He leaned toward her as if to clasp her close, but the vows he had sworn
to himself a thousand times since she had been in his cabin alone with
him still held him. Slowly he drew back and with all the strength of his
nature fought for self-control. He called upon every force of his will,
and in that supreme moment his face hardened to the appearance of a
sculptured mask; all of its finely-drawn outlines seemed set in stone.
She turned angry shoulders to him and stirred the stones on the table
with impatient fingers until they rolled about, flashing darts of light.
Symbols of power, of material and deadening splendor; eternal
accompaniments of imperial magnificence! The sapphires sang triumph, the
diamonds conquest, the rubies passionate and fulfilled love.
"They are what you really care for." He spoke huskily; his voice sounded
thick and uncertain in his ears. "That and--and your wonderful dancing,
and applause--and success and money. It's natural that you should--but
it all makes me realize--clearly, that I can't even try to force myself
into your life.


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