Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1875-07-22
cival. In the eyes of heaven We

are engaged
'Claud Percival! wandering, beg
r carly artistp rOared the farmer. Mar
!. ry him before man like Squire Mas
sin! No, Lucie, we've been good
> friends to this moment, but henceforth
you are no daughter of mine if you say
that. I'll see you and Claud Percival
, to the deuce before / give you to him!'
Father, in mercy she implored, do
not speak so hastily. What is wealth
without love? But love can be price
less without wealth. 1 cannOt-1 must
, not wed other than Claud Percival!
would rather die'
Die, then!' roared John Western,
when hand was placed on his shoul-
der. 1t was Gerald Massin's.
He had entered unheard. His coun-
tenance was calm, but also stern, as he
addressed first the father, and then the
daughter:
MIR. Western he said control your
self. Miss Western, am l to consider
you refuse my proposal to make you
my wife?'
'Mr. Massin,' replied Lucie, trem-
bling very much as she rose, though
deeply sensible of the great honor you
would do me-fOr which, indeed, l am
very grateful-I must decline. Not on
ly is such a position too exalted for one
of my station, but, as probably you
just now heard, my love is already
given. 1 am sorry to cause you pain
very, very sorry, for you have been
80 kind, and-I would not, could help
it, be the cause of pain to any One.'
She averted her head, unable to sup
| press her tears.
This is your irrevocable reply?' he
asked. 1T is.' 90 -
That is enough he rejoined, quit
ting the room, and taking the farmer
with him. Not word further he
said, getting ON his horse. You shall
hear from me this evening"
The Squire was true to his promise.
| AS Lucie sat in her own room, eXhaus-
ted with suffering, she heard her faith
er's step on the stair. A second after
he entered the apartment. His healthy
face was pale and wrathful, his tones
hoarse, as, casting letter on the ta-
BILE, he said:
Read that
Amazed, suspectfng more trouble,
Lucie complied, and read with horror.
The writing consisted only of few
cold, matter-Of-fact lines stating that
unless Lucie consented to marry Gerald
Massin, the farmer must consider his
| lease Cancelled, as the Squire would de-
sire the land for himself.
He is villainn cried Lucie, starting
up Indignantly.
VILLAIN or not exclaimed the farm
er, sinking into chair, and dropping
his head on the table with a groan, i
am ruined-I have worked and tOiled
in vain-ruined-ruined! and you my
own daughter, Lucie, are the cause; |
for you might have, and yet could, save
me-
'Oh! father-father, do not say thatp
she cred, falling on his neck; you break
my heart! 1 cannot be false to him.
60, then-marry him! calculated
the farmer, wrathfully. BE happy,
and leave me to ruin-beggary. What
do you care? Go, say!'
He thrust her angrily from him.
With a cry of despair, she fell insen- |
sible to the floor.
Two months passed, and the support
Lucie had looked for in Claud Perci- |
val's presence did not arrive. Not a |
line had she had from him; neither did
he come. She was weighed down by
misery and dOubt-dOubt whether she
was doing right to sacrifice her father,
he to whom she owed her birth, for her
own happiness, or even Glands. She
looked at the farmer; she noted his
gloom, his Indifference to events, and
saw that he rarely went abroad in the
farm which he had received notice to
quit. 1t might be his death, and she
yes, she could not deny it-would be
the cause.
That idea conquered her.
One evening, crossing to him, put
ting her hand on his head, she said:
Father, tell Gerald Massin ] will
marry him.
'What, Luciep cried John Western,
starting erect, you will?'
Il will save you from ruin, father.
Say no more. Let me be alone she
sighed, and carried her tears and break
ing heart to her own room.
Gay and many were the preparations
for the master of HOlme ManOr's we'd
ding. In all that, part of Edenshire
there was rejoicing, save at the farm,
in Lucie's breast. Gladly would she
have acquainted Claud with what had
happened, but she was unaware of his
address; and now she dreaded his COM
ing. She felt his look of horror and
distress would kill her. But she made
no sign.
The wedding-day arrived. Wishing
for death, she attired herself in her
bridal clothes, and descended to the
parlor, where she expected Farmer
Western to be awaiting her. i
1t was not he, however, who stood
by the window-not he who, turning,
caused her, with wild shrek, to sink,
half-fainting to the floor.
1t was Claud Percival, the artist.
They were his arms which clasped
her; it was he who raised her 10 a
chair; it was his anxious face as he
knelt by her side that her eyes first
rested upon. -
'Oh, heavens!' she gasped; why did S
either live for this? Go-ge, Claud!
In pity leave mel Is
NO, Lucie,' he rejoined, clasping her {
hand. 1 have been a fool-an idiot,
yet in thus seeing you, bitterly am c
punished for what 1 havet done. VIII c
YOU ever pardon me when you hear?' Ii
pardon you? 1t is II who need t
thatv she sobbed. Oh, Claud, it was to I
save my father. This is my wedding Il
day!' f
4 know it, darling
know 1t? and you speak thus?'
Yes he smiled. You have prom
ised to marry the master of Holme !
Manor; and / am he.' If
'Yes; be composed, sweet love, and
listen. A year back, before L knew d
should be its owner, 1 came here tncog- \
nito to visit the place. l saw you, r
Iucie-I loyed-the affection of the
poor artist was returned. When unex-
pectedly found myself its owner, and
rich, an ideal see now q foolish one !:
by those pale echeeks-seized me to sur
prise you. 1 put q friend as Gerald
Massin in my place awhile to see III :
wealth and position could win you
- -. =. -. IL. a "a, ~ LIE, IL urnnld not .