The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1884-02-23
CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.
The agony that Geraldine sufkered
locked in her little room alone. WAS nj
most sufficient punishment for the de-.
oept.on she had practised on her fond.
contiding father.
NO thought Of revenge on the author of
ner misery mingled with her remorsa.
She blamed herself alone.
For days she remained in her darkerad
room; and, to the anxious injuries of her
11ther, only begged to be left alone. She
snrank from the fond caresses of her
SISTER with a shudder, and entreated her
70 leave her with such q look and tone of
agony that the frightened girl retreated
weeping and distressed, to the side of her
Nlght-the season of rest for the weary
brought none to the torn heart and
night after night she paced her room
with weary steps, and lay on the floor
with her arms clasping her throbbina
templea
-Four days had passed since her inter-
tervlew with Eugene when she threw
back the snow-white curtains Ct her
chamber and opened her window. She
teit suffocated. Suddenly a well-known
step sounded under her window and En-
gene BOwmOnt stood beneath.
"Geraldine," he whispered "como
down I must speak to YOU"
Without word she Withdrew. and in n
few moments the shutters of the dining
room were opened. and Eugene slipped
into the room.
He was very pale, and his face wore an
eager, anxious look, very different from
his usual careless manner.
For some moments he gazed in silence
on the marble face that cleaned in the
dim light of the night-lamp. Was this
the bright, beautiful, loving girl who had
SO often flown into his arms In that very
room? This the sweet child he had met
one short year before, and had soothed
and encouraged and vowed to love as he
stood before the altar!
face: Her very lips were white, and her
non, had now q stony look of despair as
she turned them to him.
"Oh, Geraldine!" he groaned "oh,
my poor, poor child, how you have sut-
Yea. / have sniBsred!" she said.
quietly.
For mercy's sake do not speak so,
Geraldine; do not look at me as if life
and happiness had foz ever departed!"
Why not:" she said; my heart is
dead to happiness!"
Would that had never seen you!"
he exclaimed. in a tone of anguish, as he
bent his head upon his arms to hide the
tears which would come.
Eugene, she said, gently laying her
l., -
rested like q snowtake among his dark
curls, lit cannot last very long, dearest;
I shall soon be removed from your path
for ever"
"No. no; it is for you that I grieve,
Geraldine. Oh, do not despair SO; you
shall be happy again"
"HOw!" she asked
II know a lady, dearest who will re-
ceive you into her home. You must per-
suade your father to part with you for
few months in order to go Us companion
to her. Can you do this: p
Still deceiving him." moaned the
girl
"For his own good, Geraldine.
''Yes; oh, yes! will do anything.
When can I go? When can I leave the
roof my very presence desecrates:"
when you like. Geraldine"
"Let it be quickly. then, or l shall die.
[ cannot look upon his aged face or hear
The innocent voice of my sister. Let me
go; anywhere anywhere!"
In three days we will come for you.
Geraldine; I may never look
upon your face again; but have courage"
He pressed his lips to her white fore
head, released her abruptly, and hur-
RED from the room without one backward
glance.
Geraldine remained standing where he
left her. the image of desoair. Then,
with q long. shudIering sign OF misery,
she closed the shutters and returned to
aer room.
For the first time, the next morning
,he was at her usual place at the break
Fast-table. Well was it for her father
hat he could not see the change in his
lcrling; but he heard it in her voice.
This was like u lutte ,lnstrung, from which
III the harmony and music had vanished
Geraldine, my child, said the clergy
nan, II cannot see you. Come here,
md let me speak to You.
II have not been we'll, you know,
learast papa, and illness changes us all. ="
"Yes, yes, my darling, I know; but 1
ear you have been very III, for your
7oice has lost it, sweetness / should
'carcely know the voice of my child, it is
10 changed Perhaps, dearest q little
,hange would restore you. What say
7ou, Geraldine! VIII you 20 to your
lunt? Perhaps the air from the Welsh
Mountains may restore bloom to this
heck that know is pale"
Dear papa said Geraldine, with quiv-
ring lips and downcast eyes II think
know of . better plan. A lady some
ime since wished mo to 60 to her q
I-I-tjink I should like il
you could do without me-"
''As companion. Geraldine-s depend
mt?"
ssYAa danp mana. I af0n1d nok mind