Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1885-09-24
THE ORDEAL

oOhob1 u" " uPSh NhO Nc VI -. W
are putting enough chromatics sor a
whole opera in one poor lirtle score
Are you i'll, or are you asleep2"
Rosamond Villsrs pushed back her
stool, thereby overturning the music
book with a crash over the keys, burst
into tears, and hid her flushed face in
the great "bow-pot" of roses that old
Alexander Piret always kept on the
lamp shelf OF his piano, a ''sweetner Of
study" as he quantity phrssed it.
s'No," she cried. mo! / am not
sick-and l am not asleep; but ah!
am so very-very wretched! And
please, NJ. Piret, / don't know what tc
do" t..t
She looked very pretty, this l7-year
old girl. as she lifted her long dashed
hazel eyes to the old music master
withered face. Bronze-brown hair
full of Furnished CLEANS, eyebrows
like miniature arches of brown velvet
full, red lips, and skin delicately
tinted as the heart of conch-shell
Rosamond Villars would have made q
lovely model for some dimpled, dark.
eyed Hebe. Old Mr.. Piret was ar
artist in his way, despite his sixty odd
years, and saw all this as he stroked
down his pupils wavy hair with ten
der touch.
"My child, my child" said he, a
don't know what is the matter Tel
the old father Confide in me, petite
for i had news for thee when our les,
sons should be complete" "
"You have heard from Cecil, then?'
Rosamond's face lighted up through
her tears. "But. OIL it is thinking of
him that makas me so miserablel"
"My faith, that is strange. But
still, you have not told me. Go on,
What is the grief that brings the dia-
mond drops into the eyes?'
ats because we are so poor sigh
ed Rosamond. Sand they can't wait,
papa and mamma, until | get that
situation to sing in St Marcella's choir,
to earn a little money The rent is
due, and the landlord has been twice
--oh! if you only knew what hard /,
insulting man he is. And there are
SO many debts-petty, gnawing, grip
ing. debts-and papa says it is my
fault that he has to wear a shabby
coat, and do without the glass of claret
at his dinner, and the expensive cigars;
and poor mamma says nothing; but
she cries, and looks wan and heart
broken! Oh! what can 1 do? What
ought l to do? l wish knew some
one to advise me rightly"
"But only wait, my child,' said the
old man, oddly wrinkling his brows
into the shape of the letter 7. Chow
is 1t your fault that they are poor?"
because of Mr.. Richardson, who
wants to marry me- confessed Rosa
nond, coioring and shrinking involun-
tarily. ''He is rich, but he IS old-oh,
nearly as old as you are, M. Piret.
And his hair is grizzled. and his teeth
are so white and even, that | know
they are not real. But he lives in a
great house, and says he will provide
for papa and mamma and all, if only |
will be his wife. Is il not strange he
should want me when there are so
many others, nearer his own age, who
would be glad to accept him?"
"But, petite, you are engaged to my
son Cecil, who has gone to the gold
fields of Australia to toll for you'll"
4 Rosamond's color deepened, her
lashes dropped, as she played nervous
ly with the little jet cross that hung
at her throat. d4 ,fA9a4a'-
"They think ought to break my
engagement, M. Piret. They think
Cecil will never return--or, if at all
not for yearsl They say | ought not
to wait for his uncertain fortunes
NJ. Piret looked keenly at her.
"And what do you think, Rose Of
the vorld7' asked be- "For, after
all, it is your decision which is to
settle this matter"
"Oh, M. Piret," faltered the poor
girl, "what am I to do? 1t is hard
to see those l love suffer, when one
word spoken by me would lift the iron
grip OF poverty from their hearts and
lives. Papa says am selfish even to
hesitate minute. Oh, NJ. Piret, do
help me--do counsel me-"
'It might be selfish said the OF
man. slowly. and still scanning j."
noble. features; ''it might be selGs.A
Rosamond, if it was your own hap
plness alone that hung in the scale.
But there is another person who is
vitality and nearly concerned--my son
Cecill'
Rosamod wrung her hands, while
the sparkling tears coursed down
her cheeks in torrents.
lit is so hard!" she cried passion
ately.
Yet" said Mr. Piret, al would
not attempt through any feeble
eloquence Of mine to bias your deci-
sion. If your own heart does moi
direct you Alright, mo argument o1
mine could do so. Go home, poo
little Rosamond. Sleep on it Pray
H.
over it, and then decide as you will
Tomorrow I will hear your ultima
tim"