The Portland daily press., 1875-06-09
"He Stops to Conquer
CECIL Ha nthor of sold Hyd'
deIton's M ey,o SC.
[CoNCLUDED-l
CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.
Sir Victor sits alone In his library, but the
shaded lamp sheds little light except upon
the desk before the secretary's empty chair.
Sir Victor has been sitting there reading over
the latest written pages. but now he has
turned to the fire, and fallen deep in thought.
Another letter from his nephew has fixed
his arrival at the Roveries definitely for two
weeks hence. By that time Sir Victor re-
ioices 70 think the book will be finished, and
he and Clare will be alone to welcome him.
II Glare would only show little more real
gladness in the anticipation Of Victor,s COM
ingi If She would only look little more like
she looked on the night when she first came
home.
.sFather, father dear, let me sit here with
you" ,.-.~-,,., >,
1t is the voice that has been recalling itself
sadly to him in his solitude; and the face
that leans against his shoulder is the face
whose memory has been paining him.
"Dear," he answers, stroking her hair
with wonderful tenderness, "where should
YOU be so welcome as here with me? Shall
/ take the shade from Fosters lamp?
"Don't mind, papa"-the pleading hands
are clasped about bis arm, the pleading eyes
are raised to his-"I-I like the dusk. l
want to talk to you little, and we
always liked talking in the freight, didn't We
Papa when will the book be ready?"
''Why, my dear, you don't mean to say
that you need the lamp shaded to ask thdts''
The fathers words are light enough, but
tens to the struggle in his child's voice, and
sees the longing in her eyes.
at will be finished by the day Victor
comes. Rest content with that, my pet"
aAnd Victor comes 10 two weeks time ~
"In two weeks time exactly. 1t will soon
pass, pet don't be impatient"
"Father wasn't it Victor himself who
asked you 10 engage Mr.. Foster%'
eyes, dear; and very much indebted am
to him, though / shall be thoroughly glad
when Foster has finished and gone from
AArs."
For one moment Clars's breath comes with
a quick, sharp pain. ''Father," she whis-
psrs, "will you come away for those two
weeks-away from here-you and only. ?''
''My DEAR" he answers in quick wonder
ment, "the thing is impossible. Don't you
see that if I could leave Foster alone at bis
work / should not be so anxions for him to
finish before Victor's arrival"
'Then papa will you take me away and
leave me, and-and only fetch me when Vic
tor Is come-ls really here ?"
Sir Victor raises the white face, and gaZes
steadfastly down into the feverish eyes. But
''My child, can you have been-even tor
one hour untrue to yourself; untrue to me
untrue to VictorT'.
The girls brave, gentle answer Is but hall
uttered, when the door Is opened, aud Sir
Victor's secretary walks quietly towards his
desk.
mo more writing 10 night Foster" the
Baronet says, In an unuusal tone OF quick
authority. "But stay a moment. As you
are here, may as well tell you of ny pres
emit arrangements. Tomorrow morning
Miss Luhorne and leave the Roveries for
a-for-for few weeks. You have engaged
to have your copying completed in fourteen
DAYS, and hope you will not fail in that en-
gagement, though shall not be here to refer
to. must leave 1t all to you; but you are so
correct and careful that have no hesitation
in doing so. / am sorry toto be called a.
way so suddenly, Foster; doubly sorry, be-
cause Sir Victor breaks off here, and fin
ishes bis speech with change of tone: II
return before you leave. But my daughter
will bid you good-by to-night-now."
Clare rises and moves toward him; slowly,
as if waking from dream whose influence
fingers round her still. Her hand Is held
toward him, but, unheeding 1t, he turns a.
side and addresses Sir Victor.
81 cannot bid her good-by without telling
her, in your presence, Sir Victor, how much
I thank her for trying to make my life happy
here. If her beauty and goodness have
worked me misery instead of happiness, her
viii has had nothing to do with it, and I
would still thank her from my heart-now
while your presence keeps me beyond the cir
Gle of your hearth, and shelters her within 1t
from the need of answering my vain and ar
rogant words. I must thank her, and tell
her it is well that we could part, because my
heart is breaking in It's love for her,"
"Are you mad9 Do you forget to whom
You speak9'
The old Baronets voice is harshly queru-
lous; and one OF his white and shaking
hands lies on his daughters shoulder with a
heavy pressure. Allan thinks that, in his
tremulous anger, the old man needs the sup
port. Clare thinks 1t Is 10 keep her back.
'sNo, do not forget" the young man ans
wers slowly, while his eyss-intent and ques-
tioning-seek Clare's for the first time. "If
could have forgotten, might have told her
this at time when you were not present to
remind her whose daughter che is, and
whose betrothed. No, do not forget,
though I have dared to tell her the pitiful
story of my love.'
His eyes are bright and eager now; so
dauntless that Sir Victor Is little bewil-
dered as he meets them.
$50, my dear" Sir Victor speaks low
and swiftly In his intense ,curbed excitement,
and takes his hand quickly from his child's
shoulder "Why lengthen this scene? Go
at once; and then you may leave u.s."
'Father," she whispers, and hec caresslng
fingers 60 up and lock themselves about his
neck, while her beseechiug eyes seek. his
with new light of happiness within their
depths; "Father, I cannot say good-by now.
Oil father, have pity. Tell him to stay for
my sake" ..
The fathers rage Is terrible to see or hear
all the more terrible from the fierce con troll
he puts upon himself
"Hush, Sir Victor" interrupts the young
man quietly, as he turns his eyes from the
girls panied and frightened face. "These
words are surely needless. You have moth.
ing to fear from my treachery, as you call it.
Let me only ask one question Of Miss Lu-
horne, and will anger you by no other
word tonight. Clare, shall 60 away with
out seeing you again, and will never think
of you but as Mr.. Luhorne's wife, Tiff you
tell me that you will be So"
s'Never-neyer," she answers, shrinking
little from her father as she speaks. 81
never can be Victor's wife now that have
known you. Father, don't look so angry
don't turn from me. Why cannot we be
happy-we three-as we have been? o
father, listen to this one prayer. l am your
' my only child, as you truly say" repeats
the baronet, with stern. cold emphasis. at
is hard for a,man's wish and will to be scorned
and thwarted by his only child. Leave us,
Glare, or your want of love and gratitude
may wiring from me words which can never
be forgotten"
She interrupts him to plead that Victor
knew she had not voluntarily entered into
any engagement with him, and that he would
release her. Bnt, lunheeding these words,
the baronet turns to his secretary, and uis-
misses him in proud, ungovernable anger,
pointing to the door as he utters the last
words he is to speak to Allan Foster.
''One thing would have you remember.
If you succeed in tempting my daughter to
forget her duty TO me and to my nephew, I
shall at once, and without scruple, disnhert
and dsown her. Unless you had treacher-
'ously set yourself to entrap rich mans heir
ess, you would hardly have thought Of wife
at all, except as an incumbrance to you in
your present career"
The young mans face is white as death,
but no words fall from his lips. With a little
sob Of pain which checks her utterance at
first, Clare asks him if this is true.
"If only could know you poor and free,'
he answers; sin my selishness / say tit
only had the right TO show you my love,
you should understand it, as l can never Try
or hope to make you understand it now."
"Then, Allan"-hoW sad in all its earnest