Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-03-31
Then Jeans frightened little voice:

nnu 50 ny degrees they told me. 1t
was the same old story that is forever
and forever repeating itself. They had
met IN Florida, gone sightseeing and
pieasure-seeking together until, as a
forgone conclusion, they had come to
love one another; and tken-why, then
came jeans summons home, followed
by her formal betrothal to the Baron
Won Stock.
"She never let me know, Madam
Octavia," said Poor Denis, swhere she
was going. or why. Did she suppose l
held her love so lightly won and so
lightly lost? What if she is engaged to
Baron Won Stock, and bound by ali the
b~retrothals in Christendom, it doesn't
matter in the least. No guardian q
dispose of agirl that way in this country.
Jean, l tell you it shall not be. Don't
you believe me, Jean?"
.oi But Jean was sobbingg, quietly to her.
self, her face buried in her hands, only
the SOFT dark, fringe of hair upon her
brow visible.
"Jean,' I said, at last, s.surely there
Is no cause for all these tears. 1t is
quite simple; what Denis says is more
or less true; the Baron will never hold
you unwillingly to your word. Be frank
with him, my dear; it is always the best
way to- be honest"
"You do not know" she answered,
lifting her tear-drenched face into the
moonlight that now streamed in soft
e%ffulgence through the open window.
"what it means to as to have plighted
our troth. 1t is only a very little less
binding than a marriage vow, and L,
above all others, must not break mine;
for, do you not know my dying father
promised for me, and I may not soil
his honor, though l might my ownp"
And from this we could not move her.
Denis was in despair, and [ not less
moved, for l loved these two children
dearly, and in my secret heart had cher
ished the hope that they might one day
become something nearer and dearer
than friends.
Jean sobbed on a little longer, while
Denis held n unresisting hand, and
the kindly shadows of the c I'm May
night wrapped us all in soft %obscurity.
Presently there came the sound of wheels
and the tramping of horses in the quiet
street below, and then my little maid
appeared with her lisping MESSAGE:
"BarOn o Stock was waiting for
Miss D'Orsay."
So Jean dried hear tears, put her hat
over her dark, rutlied hair, gave her
hand calmly to Denis, kissed me hastily,
and then we were left alone. The
horses pranced below, and through the
evening air came jeans plaintive voice.
Then the rolling wheels growing fainter
in the distance, and then-silence.
"Denis," 1 said at length, 'sdon't
give her up"
"Don't give her up, Madam Octa-
via," he replied; ''but what can 1 do?
1t is she that gives me up. What can 1
doP"
$50 to her guardian, Mr.. Haviland,
and tell him. If he has any remnant of
youth left in his heart, he will try and
help you"
This 1 said, not unmindful of Denis's
good family, good looks, and his great
wealth. He frightened somewhat at
this suggestion, and left me, later on,
more willing to see some hope for the
future.
/ did not see either of my children for
some days after that evening; indeed, I
think two weeks had gone by but each
day saw me so busily employed with my
pupils and an amount of extra work,
that l scarcely realized the fight of
time.
One afternoon quite late, as I sat cor
recting a very much out of drawing
study, Jean came in. l did not look
up, but welcomed her from my easel;
she came across the room silently, and
stood before me without speaking.
"Well, my DEAR" 1 said, rubbing out
a forearm with a bit of bread, sit is a
long time since you gladdened my eyes
with a sight of your winsome face"
Then, as she did not answer I looked
up. She was standing directly in front
of me, with the light from the north
long, soft, white null, with a breast
knot of dark Russian %violets; she held
her hat in her hand, and her soft, dark
hair lay slightly moist upon her FORE
head. But it was nom of these &C
cessories that drew from me the startled
exclamation:
"Jean. what have you been doing to
YOURSELF" For she wa perfectly color
less, with a pallor that betokened Sleep
less nights and restless days, while all
the tiny blue veins about her temples
were plainly visible, and beneath her
sweet eyes were dark purple shadows.
She gave a little laugh.
sob, nothing, Octavia, unless break
ing ones heart can be called an occupa-
ton. 1 have been doing that"
"Then you are very foolish" 1 said.
ssWhy should you break your heart, and
some ones else as we'll, when the reme-
dy lies in your own hands?"
She made no answer at first, trifing
in a nervous way with the feathers on
her hat. Then in a troubled voice: sis
it Denis you mean, O~ctavia?"
"Who else should it be?" [ answered.
ssBreak your own heart if you will,
child, but you might have spared my
boys"
/ spoke quickly and in temper, but I
grieved when I had said it. The girl
Started as if wounded, and gave a long,
deep sigh, though she answered me
quietly enough.
"Dear Madam Octavia, in deciding
as l have, believe me, 1 have not spared
myself; but 1 did not come to you to