New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1875-02-14

fathers will ?"
eyes"
"Can you assure me that you really un-
derstand Sir Victor's present will, drawn
up and signed and witnessed, legal in
every way? All the property which
should be yours is bequeathed to your
cousin, Victor Luhorne, of Chine Abbey
Do you know this, and that you are left
literally without penny of your father
wealth p
"Iknow," she answers quietly; Il know
it is to go from me-"
"But why should it go from you? Are
you not sorry already?"
81 am very sorry" she answers slowly;
"very, very sorry, but can not change. :"
"Think again, Miss Clare" he says,
watching her intently. "Let me put the
case before you in its practical aspect lean
show you the himsiness of your own in
fatuation, and it is not too late to change
| even now"
sit is too late for me to change" she
answers simply. Il have had a whole
year to think one thought, and it is too
firm one to be shaken now"
sat any rate shall wait over to-mor-
row to see. You will surely be more rea-
sonable when you have come of age.
Think over it all, Miss Clare. Picture
your fathers disappointment in the fail
ure Of his pleasant plans for you and Mr..
Luhorne. Where is he, by the way?"
''He is abroad.again. I wrote to him
at once when Mr.. Foster went from here,
and told him-everything. In his reply
he said he should 60 abroad at once
sis he returning soon p
Il think so. know papa hopes So"
"And so do l. Now I am going to have
a smoke, Miss Glare. Sir Victor has gone
to his ROOM He seems tired and har-
assed and no wonder. Good night, my
dear. In the morning shall have the
pleasure of hearing quite different de-
| cision from your lips"
| He speaks with CHEEKY confidence, but
| in his heart he knows that the girls choice
will never be other than it is tonight.
Sir Victor's room is all darkness when
Clare softly enters it, carrying no light.
He can not see her face as she kneels
beside the bed, but he can guess her
anguish, when he hears her broken and
beseeching words.
"Fsther, this is the last night, and it is
SO miserable for me. Can you really say
that you will never see or speak to me
again if marry Allan? Won't you call
back those cruel words, father? How can
you Danish me? Think what we have
been to each other--we two-only we two
bound by such a holy tie. Can you
break link which God Himself has made?
What is Victor that he should come be-
tween and separate US? Could a cousin
have parted you and my mother years
ago! Think Of your love for her. And,
father in pity to me. think of her love
for YOU
''The cases are different, Sir Victor
answers, Jelly. "Do not name them to-
gether. Not one Of all your race has
acted as you are acting now. Never
speak to me again, Clare, until you have
resolved to obey me-"
Alone again in darkness, after his child
has left him, Sir Victor repeats to himself
again and again that tomorrow will make
all right. Gwen though Foster comes"
he adds in whisper to himself "Eyen |
though ne comes; and he may not come,
for he has not written"
But in the morning Clare is gone. No |
wedding chime is pealing from the church |
across the park, but Sir Victor knows that |
his daughter is married to Allan Foster |
that day.
Sir Victor sits unoccupied in his lonely |
library. The unfinished manuscript lies
on the table, bat the old baronet avoids |
now tie very sight of what for so long has
been bis pride and pleasure. He does not
venture to acknowledge, even to himself
how sorely he misses his childs voice and
step about the house, which has grown so
desolate now, though only two days have
passed since she left it. Sir Victor takes
an open letter from the table near him,
and reads it for the second time, with
little CLEAN of pleasure in his stern, worn
face. It is from his nephew, who is at
home in England at last, and writes to ask
Sir Victor to go and see him, because he
is forcibly kept at home at present. 81
am not exactly ill.," he writes, s'but still
not able to leave home. Do come, Uncle
Victor. Indeed shall SO thoroughly de-
pend upon you that shall send to meet
every train, from the first one you could
take to the one which brings you
Il will CO." the baronet decided with
tired sigh. "Victor has double claim ,
TO courtesy from us-from me, mean.
He is q noble fellow, and can never
orget how we have treated him.
Llstlessly Sir Victor takes up another '
etter, unconsciously, the while, compar-
lng the two hand writings, as Clare had I
lone one morning in the past summer
ne regular, well formed characters in the 9
me; the sprawling words in the other.
This letter, which he also reads second t
lme, IS but simple request from his old Z
ecretary to be allowed to finish, at his Z
wn house, the copying he had so nearly S
onpleted. Leisurely Sir Victor drops his
etter down among the glowing Goals; but s
ne memories it has awakened can not be b
urned to ashes so. He finds himself u
ontrasting Victor's beautiful home in
heshlre with the cottage where he fancies r.
oster has made home for his child. a.
Las she power to make that mean home b
right and beautiful, as she used to make | b
us one, which seems SO empty and SO | L
isolate now? Does she make Fosters
fe now all that his used to be?
Again, in his effort to dispel these
aunting thoughts, the old man brings 90
nth the will which he had dictated on CT
e day before Clares birthday. He will Is
ad it just once through tonight. He tn
rs only read the half when his tremulous In
'nds fall YEARLY upon the words be- d;
use while he reads them they pierce IN
m with an incomprehensible pain. Yet ",
can not alter this will; for had he not W,
ID he would leave his child penniless if sit
e married Foster, and did she not do fe
knowing this? Could any alteration ca
made! Could he leave his wealth to 70
ares child? An! to think of little ~
are mother! A mother struggling to,
ainst poverty, just as gently and as de
avely as she struggled against her mis- SO
iced love. No; he dare not picture that. jus
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