The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-06-18
Valerie sprang round with a strartled

Her companion turned also. / saw
now how handsome he was. and how
much younger than |. Singularly
enough, | looked at him, moi at Valerie.
He returned my steadfast gaze.
We stood thus for moment-I, with
the fixed and horrid glare of jealousy
upon my face; he, with the shadow OF
a mocking smile. Suddenly he turned
and went out of the room.
And now | looked at Valerie. Heav-
ems how changed she seemed, Why
should she look so thin and troubled?
| sprang forward and seized her
hands.
valerie, you have been ill?''
She yielded unwillingly to my en-
brace. 4 horrible jealousy sprang
upon me.
WHO is that man?" 1 cried fercely.
A faint color stole into her face.
"My cousin" she said; ''you have
often heard me speak of my cousin,
Harold Masters. He is to spend the
autumn with u.s."
But why" l think my voice must
have sounded piteous; but why did
you not write in SO many days? Oh,
tiCIlG. IL OlI CCGioC " iOfC IlC
[ should 90 mad!'
"Hushn' she said in tone of alarm;
mamma is coming"
| went away little comfortad that
night. At least Valerie was living and
still mine. Death was the only foe to
dread. And should Valerie die, could
| not follow her at once? | remember
what peace | felt in my calm and de-
liberate resolve not to live one hour
longer than my beloved.
Her cousin-much like brothern'
The words Of Valerie's mother still
haunt me at times. Alas, poor trust
ing soul, had she but known.
He was there under the same roof
at her side. My jealousy grew fierce
and terrible. l scarcely could speak
to him in civil tones. He seemed to
comprehend and mock me with his
smile.
| urged an immediate marriage.
Valerie appeared unwilling. Great
Heaven! Had she ceased to love me?
For many days that agonising fear
pursued me, sleeping or waking.
Had she ceased to love me?
Did she shrink from my caresses?
"Valerie!" l paused at the sound of
stitled sobs. She was weeping; she
for whose every tear my heart bled
drop for drop!
| had come in softly; the drawing
room was yet unlighted. She was
alone in the dark, by the window,
where a cool breeze swung the curtain
softly inward. She was there alone;
she had flung herself, face downward,
into a great armchair. | tried to lift
her. valerie! You to weep! What has
happened?"
She resisted me, answering indis-
tinctly:
1T is nothing; lit was lone
some"
A sudden fury seized me. I dragged
her from the chair, crying out hoarsely:
That is not true. You cannot de-
ceive me! Something has happened.
Some trouble is yours. Answer mel"
l had forced her to her feet; held
her wrists in an iron grasp. l was wild
with the great pain gnawing at my
heart-the awful pain that none can
imagine until he has once felt it.
You hurt me-" she faltered | re-
laXed my hold, and she sprang away
from me and from the room.
L remained there in the gathering
dusk. By-and-by l heard voices out
side and near the window.
The servants came and lighted the
lamps. The central radiance of the
room was rosy strong and hopeful; but
on stand not far from where | sat, a
blush globe filtered another flame upon
vase of pallid fragrance. Her lilies
and her hyacinths.
looked at them quietly. l was very
quiet now-now that l knew the worst
now that l knew she loved not me,
but her cousin. How calm | was, with
all that crushing knowledge!
By-and-by another thought seemed
to gnaw deeper than my own agony of
loss. Did-he-love-her? Why had
she wept so? Why should she weep?
Not at any thought of me; that was not
human.
Well, l could easily determine. l
would give her her freedom at once.
and wish her we'll If she still wept,
knew other things that 1 should do.
How my own misery paled in the
light of my fiery zeal for her welfare!
A half hour later had asked her to
walk with me in the grounds. led her
a safe distance from the house.
Valerie, | said, '.it is my dearest
wish, my only dream on earth, to Sc
cure your happiness. Tonight, by
chance, not purpose, | overheard a
conversation. | know that you love
him. | will not stand between you. |
give you back your freedom, and the
blessing of ;l-brother. Valerie, take
heart, for you shall we'd him."
She trembled; she did not answer
Heavens. My horrid suspicion. Why
did she not thank me? Why did she not
show joy?
silent?"
But she only bowed her head upon
my arm and sobbed. Then | knew all.
But she should not, must not know
my thoughts. l dissembled, speaking
,heeriiy.
You are nervous, Valerie; come
back 10 the house, all will be Well"
And in my heart | swore an awful
oath, that he who had stolen her love
from me should keep his vows or die.
| left the house ut once, that | might
avoid seeing her mother or him.
would give him fair chance until the
following day.
had no weapon. | went to meet
him, unarmed save with my great love
for her whom he had wronged, in some
measure-how deeply l scarce could
tell.
| had stayed all night at little hotel
there in that suburb, and going up to
the villa late in the afternoon, discov-
erod that he had gone to the city, to
return by the evening train. | had
seized upon this opportunity to con-
front him alone.
went slowly down the slope, slowly
along the quiet road. There were no
houses near. 1t was very quiet. The
new moon peered with pitiless profile
over the distant hilltops. | waited for
him to come.
/ spoke calmly at the outset, as if
taking for Granted his love for her |