Page:Maud Howe - Atlanta in the South.djvu/251

 How beautiful you are, Robert! I could almost love you, were it not forbidden." The words ceased; a faint perfume was wafted over him; some one had kissed him as he slept,—a kiss burning, yet tender. He had dreamed of such kisses before; but those dream-embraces were given by a pale maiden with a small rose mouth like a half-unfolded flower, not by this tall woman with fiery dark eyes and lips as red as blood who was now kneeling beside him.

With an effort he awoke and started to his feet, confused and terrified, only to fall back faint and sick, a sharp pain in his side, a cry of agony on his lips. He had been stabbed; and on the floor beside him lay a jewelled crystal dagger, whose rubies looked pale beside the crimson dye that stained it. He had been stabbed, and he must die unless that red tide creeping across the tiger-skin could be stanched. Beside him was the little blue garment; he had slept with it in his embrace. With his last remaining strength he pressed the vesture of the woman he loved close to the gaping wound; and then his very soul seemed to be borne away on the stream of scarlet life-blood creeping across the tiger-skin toward the door.

Nearer and nearer to the sill stole the narrow thread of scarlet liquor, every drop of which lessened his chances of life. It stopped at the